#just shades of red and that doesn’t kill people | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

inseobts · 2 months ago

Note

Idk if u do request but can you do Scary reader x One piece men? Law, Shanks, Sabo, Ace, Croc, The monster trio & whoever else you want! Basically the reader is really scary but {{char}} finds their scariness attractive.

Attractive Scariness

a/n: sorry but at some point I got out of ideas lmao

characters: luffy, zoro, sanji, law, ace, shanks, sabo and crocodile

words count: around 0.4k - 0.9k each

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

── .✦ Monkey D. Luffy:

You’re used to fear.

The wide eyes, the shaky hands, the people stumbling over themselves to get away, etc. It’s always the same. Ever since you ate your Devil Fruit, people have called you a monster. Even when you’re not fighting, your presence alone makes people nervous.

So when you land on this island and step into a small village, you already expect the usual reaction.

And you get it.

The streets clear as soon as you walk in. The market stalls empty. Even the shopkeepers pretend not to see you.

You sigh.

“Again?” you mutter “I just want some food…”

You’re about to turn around when someone doesn’t run. A boy in a red vest and a straw hat stands right in front of you, grinning like he doesn’t even notice how scary you are.

No. He notices. He just doesn’t care.

“Whoa!” he exclaims, eyes shining “You’re super strong, huh?”

You blink “What?”

“I can tell!” He nods, completely sure of himself “Strong people have this feeling about them. And you feel really strong!”

You stare at him. That’s… new. No “stay away from me” or “please don’t kill me.” Just pure excitement.

Luffy tilts his head “What’s your power?”

You hesitate. Usually, this is the part where people scream. But he’s looking at you like a kid waiting for a magic trick.

You raise your hand. A shadow swirls around your fingers, shifting like smoke. The air around you grows heavy, dark, unnatural.

Luffy gasps.

“That’s so cool!”

“…Huh?”

“You can control shadows? Or darkness? Or... wait, is it nightmares?” He’s practically bouncing “Can you do giant shadow hands? Or make yourself super big? Or—”

You blink at him “You’re… not scared?”

Luffy grins wider “Why would I be? You’re awesome!”

This has never happened before. Ever. You don’t know what to do.

Then Luffy grabs your wrist “Hey, join my crew!”

Your brain short-circuits “What?”

“I’m Luffy! I’m gonna be King of the Pirates, and I need strong people on my crew. And you’re really strong!”

You open your mouth, then close it. You look at him, at his bright, careless smile, at the way he’s just standing there, holding onto your wrist like it’s the most normal thing in the world. Like you’re just a person.

Not a monster.

“…You’re weird” you say.

Luffy laughs “People tell me that a lot.”

You stare at him for a long moment. Then, for the first time in forever, you smile.

“…Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I’ll join you.”

Luffy cheers, throwing his fists in the air “Yes! This is gonna be awesome!”

You have no idea what you’ve just signed up for. But for once, you don’t feel like a nightmare.

You just feel like you.

Years have passed since you met Luffy. Since he grabbed your wrist, called you strong, and changed your life without even trying.

Back then, you weren’t sure what you were getting into. Now, you know.

Being with Luffy means chaos. It means waking up to find him hanging upside down from the ship’s mast, laughing like it’s normal. It means fighting beside him, watching him charge straight at danger without fear—because he trusts you to have his back.

It means love.

A love that is loud and wild, but also simple. Easy. Because Luffy has never been afraid of you. Not then, not now.

Right now, you’re on an island, sitting in the shade while the crew runs around. The villagers are keeping their distance, just like always. Even after all these years, people still fear you.

But it doesn’t matter anymore.

Because across the field, Luffy is waving at you, smiling so wide it makes your chest feel warm. He doesn’t care that people avoid you. He doesn’t care that you’re “scary”, to him, you’re just you.

He runs over, plopping down next to you with a grin “Whatcha doin’?”

You raise an eyebrow “Sitting.”

Luffy gasps dramatically “No way. That’s crazy.”

You snort, shoving his shoulder. He just laughs, leaning against you without a care in the world.

For a while, you sit there together. The sun is warm, the breeze is nice, and Luffy is… Luffy. He hums a little song under his breath, playing with your fingers like he’s fascinated by them.

Then, he says “You know, you’re kinda scary.”

You pause “Oh?”

He nods “Yeah. Like, super scary. When you fight, people freak out. Even Zoro said you’re the last person he’d wanna fight seriously.”

You wait for the usual words to follow. Monster. Freak. Too much.

But instead, Luffy grins and squeezes your hand.

“I love it.”

Your heart stops for a second.

Luffy keeps talking, like he hasn’t just turned your entire world upside down “It’s awesome! You’re so strong, and you do that cool shadowy thing, and when you get serious, even the bad guys look like they’re gonna cry.” He laughs, eyes shining “It’s really cool.”

You don’t answer right away. Because what is there to say?

For so long, your power was a curse. Something that made you different. Something that made you alone.

But here, with Luffy, it’s just another part of you.

“…You’re an idiot” you mumble, looking away.

Luffy laughs “Yeah, but you love me.”

You roll your eyes “Unfortunately.”

He gasps “What?!”

You shove his face away, and he just laughs harder, wrapping his arms around you like an octopus. He clings to you, laughing and warm, and you sigh, pretending to be annoyed.

But the truth is, you wouldn’t trade this for anything.

Because you are strong. And scary. And Luffy loves it.

And that is more than enough.

── .✦ Roronoa Zoro:

Zoro knows strength when he sees it.

He can sense it in the way people move, in the way they breathe. Some fighters hesitate, some carry doubt, but you don’t.

From the moment he meets you, he can tell. You don’t just fight. You hunt. And for some reason, he can’t take his eyes off you.

It starts on an island known for its warriors. The crew stops to rest, but Zoro wants a challenge. A real fight. So when he hears rumors of a swordsfighter so deadly that even bounty hunters avoid them, he doesn’t hesitate.

But when he finds you, it’s not what he expects.

You’re not some old master or a towering brute. You’re just… you. Sitting under a tree, sharpening your blade like you have all the time in the world.

Zoro stops a few feet away, arms crossed “You’re the one they’re all scared of?”

You glance up. Your eyes are sharp, your aura heavy, and for a second, it’s like the temperature drops.

Zoro grins. Oh, yeah. This is gonna be good.

You sigh, standing up “You here to fight me too?”

He smirks “Yeah. Unless you’re scared.”

Something flickers in your gaze, something dark and dangerous. Then you smile, slow and sharp “You’ll regret that.”

And then you move.

It happens fast. One second, you’re standing still. The next, your own blade is inches from his neck. Zoro barely blocks in time, his instincts the only thing keeping his head attached.

His blood rushes.

You don’t fight like normal swordsfighters. Your movements are smooth, calculated, but there’s something more. Something predatory.

Zoro grins “Not bad.”

You tilt your head “Not bad?”

And then you attack for real.

The clash of steel echoes through the trees. Zoro meets each strike, but he can feel the difference in the way you fight. You don’t waste movement. You don’t test him. You go straight for the kill.

Most people would find that terrifying.

Zoro finds it hot as hell.

His smirk widens “You don’t hold back, huh?”

You don’t answer, but there’s something in your eyes... curiosity, maybe. Like you’re testing him.

Good. He likes a challenge.

The fight goes on, fast and brutal, but in the end, neither of you go all out. It’s just a taste, a promise of something more. When you finally lower your blade, Zoro does the same.

You study him for a moment, then nod “You’re not bad either.”

Zoro huffs a laugh “High praise.”

You sheath your sword and turn away “I’m going back to town. You coming or what?”

He watches you go, smirking to himself.

Yeah. He’s definitely interested.

Years Later – Zoro should probably be concerned that his partner is one of the most terrifying people he’s ever met.

But he’s not.

In fact, it just makes him like you more.

Right now, you’re standing on the deck of the Sunny, staring down a group of bounty hunters dumb enough to challenge you. You haven’t even drawn your sword yet, but the way you look at them, sharp, unreadable, deadly, makes them hesitate.

Zoro leans against the railing, watching with amusement. He already knows how this will go.

One of the bounty hunters shifts nervously “Y-you gonna fight or what?”

You tilt your head, smiling faintly “You first.”

There’s a moment of hesitation. Then they charge. Big mistake.

Zoro watches as you dodge effortlessly, your blade a blur. The fight lasts seconds. By the time you sheath your sword, your opponents are on the ground, groaning in pain.

Silence. Then, Luffy cheers from the mast “That was awesome!”

Zoro smirks. Damn right it was.

You turn to him, raising an eyebrow “You just gonna watch?”

He shrugs with a smirk “I was enjoying watching... and didn’t wanna get in your way.”

You walk over, stopping in front of him “You’re getting lazy.”

He scoffs “Oh yeah?”

You lean in, voice low “Yeah. Maybe I should fight you next.”

Zoro feels a familiar rush of excitement. His hand twitches toward his swords “You sure you can keep up?”

You smirk “Try me.”

And just like that, he’s gone.

Lost in you, in the fight, in the thrill of having someone who meets him blow for blow.

You’re terrifying. And beautiful. And stronger than hell.

And he wouldn’t have you any other way.

── .✦ Vinsmoke Sanji:

Sanji has seen all kinds of people. Beautiful women, powerful warriors, even actual monsters. But he’s never met anyone like you.

You meet in a quiet, dimly lit tavern. The crew stops for a meal, and Sanji, always on the lookout for interesting faces, notices you immediately.

You sit in the darkest corner, barely touching your drink. Your posture is relaxed, but there’s something wrong about it, like you could strike at any moment. The air around you feels heavy.

People glance at you and quickly look away. A group of bounty hunters at a nearby table seem tense, whispering among themselves.

Sanji watches as one of them inches toward the door. His hands are shaking.

That’s when he realizes, they’re afraid of you. A lot.

Sanji takes a slow drag of his cigarette. Interesting.

“Hey cook, what are you doing there, standing like an idiot.” Zoro says while they all sit at a table.

He’s about to turn back to his crew and reply to that marimo when the bartender makes a mistake and accidentally spills a drink on your sleeve.

The entire tavern stops breathing.

The bartender goes pale “I—I’m so sorry—”

You say nothing. You don’t even look at him. Just slowly, carefully, you pick up a napkin and wipe your sleeve.

The silence stretches.

Sanji almost laughs at how scared everyone looks. What, do they think you’re gonna kill him for a drink spill?

The bartender swallows “Please, let me—”

“It’s fine” you say.

Your voice is quiet. Smooth. Too calm.

The bartender flinches anyway.

Sanji watches as you set the napkin down, push your drink away, and stand. You turn toward the door, and the crowd parts around you, everyone desperate to get out of your way.

Sanji, curious as hell, does the exact opposite.

He steps into your path, smiling “Leaving so soon?”

You stop and lift your gaze, as everyone there gasps.

Most people can’t meet Sanji’s eyes for long. His confidence, his sharpness, it makes them squirm. But you?

You stare right through him.

For the first time in a long time, Sanji feels his heart skip.

“…Who are you?” he asks.

You tilt your head slightly “Does it matter?”

That voice. Calm. Slow. Like a knife dragging against silk.

Sanji exhales smoke, smirking “I’d like to think so.”

You study him. And for some reason, he feels like he’s the one being hunted.

Then you smile, small, unreadable “See you around… cook.”

And just like that, you’re gone.

Sanji stands there, heart pounding as he thinks, oh, I’m in trouble.

Years Later – Sanji likes to think he doesn’t scare easy. He’s faced warlords, monsters, and the wrath of Nami’s fist.

But nothing terrifies him more than the way you just appear.

“Sanji.”

“GAH—!”

He jumps, nearly dropping the plate he’s holding. You’re suddenly right next to him, quiet as a shadow.

He clutches his chest “How do you do that?!”

You blink “Do what?”

“That!” He gestures at you wildly “I didn’t hear you at all! You just—just materialized!”

You tilt your head, amused “I walked in.”

“No, you haunted in.”

You hum in thought “Maybe you should pay more attention.”

Sanji groans, running a hand through his hair “You’re gonna kill me one day, I swear.”

“Wouldn’t be much fun,” you say, smirking slightly “I’d miss this.”

Sanji pauses. Then, with a slow, dramatic sigh, he pulls you into a hug.

You stiffen at first, but he’s patient. He knows you’re not used to softness.

When you relax, he kisses the top of your head “You’re cruel, y’know that?”

“Am I?”

“You make my heart stop every damn day.”

You smile against his chest “Good.”

── .✦ Trafalgar D. Law:

Law prides himself on being composed. No matter the situation, he never loses control.

But then he meets you, and for the first time in a long time, he feels something close to unease.

It happens on a stormy night. The Heart Pirates dock at a quiet island, and Law sets off alone, drawn by rumors of a dangerous individual hiding in town. Some say you’re a ghost, others call you a demon.

He doesn’t believe in superstition. But he believes in threats.

So when he finds you in the ruins outside of town, standing perfectly still, eyes dark and unreadable, he watches you carefully.

“You’ve been causing trouble” he says, testing your reaction.

You don’t move. Don’t speak. The wind howls through the ruins, but you remain as still as a statue.

Most people shift under his gaze. But you? You don’t even blink.

Law narrows his eyes “Who are you?”

Finally, you tilt your head “You already know, don’t you?”

Your voice is calm. Steady. Wrong.

It reminds him of the quiet before a scalpel slices skin.

Law tightens his grip on Kikoku “What’s your ability?”

You step forward, and the ground cracks beneath your foot. A shadow flickers at the edge of his vision, stretching unnaturally.

“Does it matter?” you ask.

Law doesn’t flinch. But something deep in his chest tightens.

Because he knows that feeling. The quiet hum of danger.

And yet, instead of fear, he feels something else. Intrigue. He's actually really attracted and he can't deny it.

It takes Law a while to notice. To really notice.

Because you’re fearless in battle. You fight like a force of nature, silent and merciless, the kind of presence that makes enemies pray they don’t cross your path. You don’t just win fights, you end them.

And yet, when you’re with the crew, you’re… different.

Law catches it in small moments.

The way you ruffle Bepo’s fur when you think no one’s looking. The way you always make sure Penguin and Shachi get extra food after a long day. The way you quietly fix things around the ship before anyone else notices they’re broken.

And he feels it most with him. Like when you sit beside him in the submarine’s dimly lit halls, comfortable in silence, just existing next to him without expectation. Or when you lean against him after a rough mission, exhaustion making you a little softer, a little less guarded.

Or, most obviously, when you think he’s asleep.

He catches you once, fingers brushing against his hair, barely there, like you’re memorizing the shape of him.

He should say something. Call you out. But he doesn’t.

Because for some reason, the realization that the person who terrifies even seasoned killers, is so unbelievably gentle with him?

It does something to him.

Something dangerous.

Years Later – Being in a relationship with you comes with some complications.

Like right now.

“Sit still, damn it” Law mutters, pressing bandages against your side.

You sigh “It’s just a scratch.”

Law glares at you “It’s a stab wound.”

You shrug “Same thing.”

He clenches his jaw, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at him “I swear, you are the worst patient I’ve ever had.”

You smirk “And yet, I’m still your favorite.”

Law groans, but he doesn’t deny it.

Because despite everything, your terrifying strength, your eerie presence, your complete disregard for injuries, he can’t help but be drawn to you.

You are the only person who unsettles him. And somehow, you’ve also become the one person he trusts the most.

He huffs, finishing the bandages “Try not to die.”

You grin, leaning in “Worried about me, doctor?”

“Tch” He flicks your forehead “Shut up.”

And despite himself, he smiles.

The next time you get hurt, Law doesn’t even bother hiding his frustration.

“You’re reckless,” he mutters, tightening the bandage around your arm “One of these days, you’re gonna get yourself killed.”

You watch him, amused “Would you miss me?”

He scowls “Shut up”

You smirk “You would.”

Law clicks his tongue, looking away. He hates how smug you sound. Hates it even more because you’re right.

Instead of answering, he sighs, finishing the bandage. Then, before he can talk himself out of it, he presses a hand against your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek.

“You’re lucky I like you” he mutters.

For the first time, you freeze.

Then, slowly, you smile. And Law knows he’s in so much trouble.

── .✦ Portgas D. Ace:

On a nameless island, a pit stop for pirates and criminals alike, Ace hears the rumors first, stories about a lone warrior, someone so deadly that even bounty hunters won’t go near them.

He thinks it sounds like fun.

So when he walks into a bar and sees everyone stiffening at the mere sight of someone sitting in the corner, he knows he’s found you.

You sit alone, idly spinning a knife between your fingers. Your expression is calm, unreadable, but the tension in the room is thick.

Ace grins, making his way over “Mind if I sit?”

You don’t look up “Do what you want.”

He plops down across from you, resting his chin in his hand “Y’know, people are real scared of you.”

Silence.

Ace watches you carefully. You don’t move like a normal fighter. There’s something off about the way you breathe, the way your presence lingers like a shadow stretching too far.

It should probably freak him out.

Instead, it makes his blood rush.

“So,” he continues, smirking “What’s your deal? You a bounty hunter? Are you here to fight?”

You finally meet his eyes. Your gaze is sharp, calculating, like you’re dissecting him without lifting a finger.

"I was just curious who everyone was talking about, turns out it was you."

“…You’re not scared of me?”

Ace grins wider “Should I be?”

The knife in your hand stops spinning and or a split second, the air feels heavy.

Then, slowly, you smirk “Maybe? You tell me. That's what you came here for, isn't it?”

Ace laughs. Loud, bright, genuine.

And just like that, he decides that he actually finds you very attractive, and isn't letting you go so easily.

Years Later – Ace still remembers the first time he saw you fight.

He has always been the kind of guy who laughs in the face of danger.

He doesn’t hesitate to charge into battle, doesn’t flinch at the thought of death. He’s faced warlords, marines, even entire armies.

But when he saw you fighting? For the first time in his life, he felt like prey, even if you weren't fighting him.

How you moved like a phantom, striking fast, silent, merciless. How your enemies barely had time to scream before they hit the ground.

Everyone calls you terrifying. A monster. A nightmare in a human form.

And yet, right now, curled up against him, grumbling sleepily as he wraps his arms around you Ace can’t help but laugh.

You groan “What? You going crazy now?”

“You,” he teases, resting his chin on top of your head “You’re supposed to be the scariest person alive, but look at you.”

You swat at his chest “Shut up.”

Ace just grins, pulling you closer “Nah. I like reminding you.”

"You're always so annoying..." you say turning to not let him see you blush.

Because despite the way you fight, despite the way you terrify your enemies, Ace has seen what no one else has.

How you tuck into his blankets when you're alone. How you always make sure the crew eats before you do. How you fuss over him when he pretends his injuries don’t hurt.

You act all tough, all sharp edges and killing intent.

But Ace knows the truth.

You’re soft. At least, with him.

And that makes him fall for you even more.

He turn your head so that he can see you and with a smirk he says "Don't worry you're hot both ways, I don't mind your soft side at all"

Then he kiss your forehead and you try to hide again, making him laugh softly.

── .✦ Shanks:

Shanks has seen a lot in his life.

He’s fought warlords, crossed paths with the most dangerous men on the seas, and stared death in the face with a grin.

But when he meets you, he realizes he’s never met someone who could scare him and turn him on at the same time.

It happens in a crowded port town, where pirates and mercenaries walk side by side, tension thick in the air. Shanks and his crew are enjoying a round of drinks when Benn nudges him, nodding toward a shadowed corner of the bar.

“Oi, I found out that one’s got quite the reputation.”

Shanks follows his gaze and sees you.

You sit alone, posture relaxed but too still. There’s something about you... something in the way the people around you refuse to meet your eyes, in the way the bartender serves you with hands that tremble, scared to even do his own job.

The crew isn’t easily shaken, but even they seem wary.

Shanks just grins. Because if there’s one thing he can’t resist, it’s a challenge.

“Think I’ll go say hi.”

Benn sighs “Of course you will. Never doubted it.”

Shanks strolls over, drink in hand, and slides into the seat across from you without asking.

You don’t react. Just lift your gaze and meet his like you’re peering into his soul.

He whistles “You’ve got quite the stare.”

“You’ve got quite the nerve...” you reply smoothly.

Shanks chuckles “I get that a lot, actually.”

Silence stretches between you. He expects you to get annoyed, to tell him to leave, but surprisingly you don’t.

You just watch him. Measuring. Calculating. And damn if it doesn’t send a thrill up his spine.

Finally, you speak “You’re not scared of me.”

Shanks smirks, tipping his drink toward you “Should I be?”

Your eyes glint with something sharp. Dangerous. Interested.

“Maybe not, but who knows.”

Shanks leans forward, grinning “I like my odds.”

"I can see it..."

Years Later - “You’re doing it again” Benn mutters.

Shanks blinks “Doing what?”

Benn nods toward you. You’re across the deck, casually sharpening a blade, the crew giving you a very wide berth.

“You’re staring like a love-struck idiot” Benn sighs.

Shanks laughs “Can you blame me?”

Because despite years of being with you, despite knowing exactly how terrifying you can be, Shanks still finds himself completely captivated whenever you're fighting or not.

He’s seen you end fights with a single strike, watched entire battlefields fall silent at your presence. You are ruthless when necessary, the kind of person who doesn’t waste time with threats, just action.

And yet when you think no one’s watching, he sees the little things.

How you make sure the younger crew members eat first. How you adjust someone’s coat when they’re not paying attention. How, late at night, when exhaustion weighs heavy, you let yourself lean into him.

And Shanks?

He eats it up.

Because out of everyone in the world, you choose to be soft only with him.

Later that night, as you both sit on the deck watching the waves, Shanks stretches, throwing an arm around your shoulders.

You roll your eyes but don’t push him away.

He grins “Y’know, for someone so scary, you’re kinda sweet.”

You turn, raising a brow “Wanna say that again?”

Shanks chuckles “Not if I value my life, and I do.”

You smirk, leaning against him just a little.

And that small, rare gesture is worth more to him than any treasure. He's totally in your hands, can you believe it? Because even he something looks at himself and shake his own head at the thought, but at the end who cares? He's with the most attractive person out there.

── .✦ Sabo:

Sabo isn’t the type to scare easily.

He has fought world nobles, infiltrated enemy territory, and stared death in the face more times than he can count. Fear isn’t something he entertains, it’s something he’s learned to push aside, to control.

But when he meets you?

For the first time in a long while, he actually hesitates.

It happens in a revolution-friendly town, the kind of place where people whisper about rebellion but fear retaliation too much to act. Sabo’s here on business, but what he doesn’t expect is to hear a name spoken in hushed, almost fearful tones.

A name that isn’t a government official or a bounty hunter, but yours.

“Who are they?” he asks a local, intrigued.

The man pales “Someone you don’t want to cross.”

Sabo just smirks “Is that so?”

He should probably be cautious. Should probably listen to the fear in the man’s voice.

But instead, he just wants to meet you more.

You’re exactly as the rumors say. You're cold, calculating and dangerous.

When Sabo finds you, you don’t attack him. You just watch him. Still. Silent. Your presence alone feels heavy, like the weight of an unseen blade resting against his throat, daring him to make a wrong move.

Most people would crack under it.

Sabo just grins “Heard a lot about you.”

You don’t react “Likewise.”

He hums, studying you. Most would be unnerved by your unwavering stare, the cold calculation in your eyes. But Sabo finds it fascinating. Finds you fascinating.

He hums, studying you “And? What’s your verdict?”

Your eyes narrow slightly, assessing him like he’s prey “Too early to tell. I don't judge based on rumors.”

For a moment, the two of you just stand there, a quiet tension settling between you. Sabo knows he should be cautious, he knows he’s facing someone whose strength is being feared even among revolutionaries.

But all he can think is — Damn. They’re kinda hot.

Years Later – It’s funny.

Everyone fears you. The Revolutionary Army sees you as a force of nature, one of their strongest, deadliest members. You’re efficient in battle, merciless when necessary. People whisper about you in the same breath as high-ranking officers, speaking of you like a phantom, something to be respected, but never approached.

But Sabo sees more than just the deadly aura that makes people tread lightly.

He sees the way your eyes gleam with amusement when a mission goes exactly as planned. He sees the way you tilt your head in interest, studying your enemies as if they’re puzzles to be solved before being discarded. He sees the way you move, every motion precise, effortless, a dance with death that you never lose.

And he loves it.

Loves the sharp edges, the lethal grace, the way you make his heart race, not with fear, but with something far more intoxicating.

And yet, he also sees the moments no one else does.

You, sitting beside him late at night, absentmindedly tracing circles against his palm.

You, making sure Koala doesn’t overwork herself, leaving her favorite snacks on her desk without a word.

You, rolling your eyes but still letting Sabo pull you into a hug after a long mission, even though your reputation could probably shatter just from being seen indulging him.

“You know,” he teases one night, tilting his head, “for someone so scary, you’re kind of a softie.”

You give him a flat look “Take that back.”

Sabo laughs, eyes gleaming with challenge “Nope. Never gonna happen.”

You grumble something under your breath but don’t pull away, and he counts that as a win.

Because out of everyone in the world, he knows you’re only ever like this with him.

And as much as he adores every part of you, it’s that razor-sharp danger in your eyes, that power in your every movement, that makes his blood sing.

It’s terrifying. It’s exhilarating.

And damn, does he love you for it.

── .✦ Crocodile:

Crocodile has met aaaall kinds of people.

Cowards who grovel at his feet. Fools who think they can challenge him. Liars who smile while plotting his downfall.

But you? You don’t fit into any category.

Because when he first meets you, standing over the broken bodies of bounty hunters, face calm, eyes cold, he doesn’t see fear. He doesn’t see arrogance.

He sees power.

And for the first time in a long while, he’s interested.

When in Rainbase, long after the fall of Baroque Works, Crocodile has been rebuilding, regaining influence, cutting down anyone foolish enough to think he’s lost his edge.

And then you show up.

A ghost in the desert, they call you. A storm without warning. The kind of person who doesn’t make threats, just leaves bodies in their wake.

Crocodile hears the whispers. He almost ignores them.

Until one of his men ends up dead.

Then it's when he decides it’s time to meet you himself.

He finds you in a back alley, wiping blood from your blade.

You don’t look surprised to see him.

“You’ve been causing many problems” he says, exhaling smoke.

You tilt your head, unconcerned “That depends on who you ask.”

Crocodile’s lips curl into something amused. He’s used to people trembling in his presence. But you? You just stand there, watching him with the same detached intensity one might give a corpse.

It should irritate him.

Instead, it makes his blood thrill.

“I don’t like loose ends,” he says “So tell me, why shouldn’t I kill you?”

For the first time, you smile.

Not kind. Not warm.

Just sharp. Cold. Dangerous.

“You could try, I'm happy if you try.”

The air shifts.

Crocodile’s grip on his cigar tightens. His instincts, honed from years of surviving the worst of the worst, tell him that fighting you would not be easy.

And he likes that.

Years Later – Most people don’t look him in the eye.

Most people don’t speak without permission, don’t challenge his decisions, don’t dare to stand too close.

You do all of that.

And Crocodile lets you.

Because unlike the weaklings who grovel before him, you don’t need protection. You don’t need his power to survive.

You’re strong. Cold. Unshaken by blood or war.

And that makes you the only person truly worth his time.

One night, you’re both on the balcony of his hideout, looking down at the city below.

Crocodile exhales smoke, glancing at you “Most people would rather die than be in my company.”

You don’t even blink “Most people are weak.”

He chuckles, low and dark “That so?”

You finally meet his gaze, and in your eyes, he sees something sharp. Something dangerous.

Something that matches him.

He smirks.

Because finally, after years of dealing with fools, liars, and cowards, he’s found someone who is exactly his kind of monster.

2K notes · View notes

gldrushh · 4 months ago

Text

GUILTY AS SIN? | JK | PART 𝐈

"You are stuck in time, and Jungkook doesn't stop running from it until he eventually does, and you learn that grief doesn’t wait for death, that love isn't all that dignifying."

→ Pairing brother in law!Jungkook × widowed fem!reader

→ Genre forbidden love! au, childhood friends to lovers, angst, smut

→ W.C 17. 32k

→ Warnings unrequited love :(, oc is in love with his older brother, early character death of the said older brother who is haunting the narrative, cute childhood sweethearts who are doomed by me, mentions of dealing with grief and acceptance, mention of cancer, a minor scene where harassment is attempted,emotionally troubled! oc, emotionally troubled and detached! jk, simp jk, pathetic man in love, he's so so lovesick, ceo! jk, protective jk, yearning, pining, loads of angst, fluff if you squint, breif yoongi mention, namjin yay!!,rich people party, mentions of anxiety,sexual tension,slow burnish,smut (omg everyone look away), kissing, unprotected sex (raw and deep, next question),dirty talking, oc is insecure,hickies,oral (f! Receiving), he cums in his pants,big dick jk, soft Dom Jungkook, fingering, penetrative sex, creampie, praise, cuddles if you squint again

→ Playlist Guilty as sin, control, killing me softly with his song, do I wanna know?

→ A/N the idea of this one shot came to me at 1 am when I was supposed to be studying for a test that probably my future depends upon and after much much complementing I'm finally posting it. To me, its very experimental and I was just trying to explore my writing style and writing things that I haven't before, like smut 🫠 so please please bear that in mind!! I hope you enjoy reading and if you did please comment!! It makes my whole day 🥰💕💕

P.S: cross posted on wattpad.

| PART 1 | PART 2 |

It is a believed fact that it takes three to four short months to fall in love.

For you, it took one summer. The summer spent watching him sketch galaxies in the dirt with a twig, summer spent learning the way his laughter sounded after stealing popsicles from the freezer, summer spent holding his hand as they made paper planes under the blazing sun. It was the kind of love that grew roots so deep, you couldn’t separate where he ended and you began.

That summer, you met Minho. The boy next door with a mind as wild as his curls and a heart so warm it seemed to shine blindingly bright. He showed you how to climb trees, told stories he'd crafted all by himself, convincing you that the universe could be held in the palm of your hand. He shared his world with you, and you fell in love with it.

You kissed his cheek on the porch of your house one late July evening, bold and brimming with the kind of confidence only childhood summers could bring. “Now you’re gonna have to marry me, Min Min,” you teased, hands behind your back, your toes curling against the wooden floorboards.

He blushed, a shade of red that rivaled the setting sun, but his grin mirrored yours.

The porch of your house was a witness to many things. Your first steps, held your first scraped knees, your first dog and Minho's new brother; your new friend.

A boy of your age, younger than Minho had appeared from right behind him, his hands clutching onto Minho's flannel, his watchful eyes going everywhere all at once. The kind of boy who never spoke unless he had to, the kind who was more familiar with loss than comfort, lingering on the edges of things, unsure if he belonged.

Jungkook.

Now, Jeon Jungkook.

You and his brother had taken it upon themselves to bring him into your fold, turning your duo into a trio. With time, he laughed with you both, trusted you both, became one of you both.

The three of you were inseparable— in the backyard of your house, in elementary school, in high school. How could you not be? You had tied the promise in the form of handmade friendship bracelets around the wrist of both boys.

Even though what you wanted with minho was far from friendship. A bold dreamer, you always have been. But not so much when you turned sixteen. Sixteen; what a awkward age.

An age of overthinking haircuts, dreams, and the lives your peers are gonna live all at once. Visits to the school councilor are doubled. Relationships happen; Friends part.

But you only grew closer with Jungkook. He didn’t seemed interested in making a move on the timid, short haired girl who passed him notes in chemistry class, neither did he talk much about the future. When you asked him what he wanted to do, he’d shrug and say something like, “Whatever makes sense at the time.” He wasn’t aimless, exactly—just grounded in a way that made you think he didn’t feel the need to plan everything out.

Minho, though, was spiraling.

He now spent more time with the councilor that he spent with you both. Had this bitter look on his face every morning you saw him on the bus stop that will have you sharing a knowing look with Jungkook—Minho had been having a lot of fights with his dad, had been overthinking a lot more because the world seemed so much bigger than he had imagined.

Maybe for the eldest son and heir to a family that ran a company as old as the town itself, the world really was big. But to you, he was just a hopeful boy with all the colors in his eyes. The colors that you loved. The colors that didn't belong in a office, crunching numbers.

Your heart ached for him, but you didn’t know what to say. At sixteen, nobody has the answers.

Seventeen is a different story. It's a starlight dream. It's you acing the college entrance test. It's Minho surfacing back. It's Minho kissing you on that very same porch, promising, “One day, we’ll have our own porch, and I’ll kiss you there every day.”

And he was one to keep his promises.

You married him at twenty-five, in crisp autumn. To your family and friends, it was "About time." To you, it was nothing short of a dream as you walked to promise forever to the man you love, a vision in white. It was nothing big, just a dreamy intimate affair with soft twinkling string lights. Something you both agreed on. Because you were content with what you had, overjoyed actually after picking out a quite cozy apartment for the both of you and landing a job as a humanities professor in a university that wasn't too far from the said apartment. Minho was too and while things weren't the same with his father now, he did what he loved. Ever the artist at heart.

It was like everything you ever wrote in your middle school diary, everything you wished for was now laid under your feet like a carpet unfolding.

You were given a good time before it started pulling away from your feet.

At first, it was subtle. A missed dinner here, a canceled hangout there. Then he told you both he’d taken up an opportunity abroad to manage the family business, something Minho had no interest in, just on the night of your wedding after he had fulfilled his role of the groom's best man, watched you walk down the aisle.

You hadn’t seen the decision coming—not that night, not like this—but you couldn’t deny it either. Jungkook had seemed restless here, especially after finishing college.Conversations with him in those days had been brief, distracted, his eyes darting to the distance even as he smiled at you. It felt as you were trying to talk to the Jungkook who had appeared on your porch the first time. He hadn’t asked for understanding, and you hadn’t known how to offer it. His reasons were vague, more like placeholders for something unsaid. And so he left, quietly, with little fanfare, and though Minho seemed sad to see him go, you could tell he understood.

“It’s good for him,” Minho had said. “He deserves something for himself.”

Relationship happened; Friends parted.

You weren't sure if you understood. While you agreed with Minho, you couldn’t help but feel the loss of a friend now that his calls became less frequent until they stopped altogether. One day, he was simply gone, leaving behind only the memory of the boy who had once trusted you with his rare, precious smiles.

"You’d laugh if you saw me right now. I tried to fix the leaky sink in the kitchen, and now the entire floor is flooded. Minho’s being no help—just standing there laughing."

"Hey, stranger. Our anniversary is next weekend. We’re just doing a small dinner. You should come. Seriously, koo, don’t make me guilt-trip you."

"Saved you a slice of cake, but Minho ate it. You’d better show up next year, or I’ll stop saving you anything."

"Hey, Koo. Just checking in. Hope you're healthy and happy. Would love to hear from you"

You'd text him timely, in hopes that he still knows how to use a phone. But apparently, not.

Still, you had Minho. Your husband, your best friend.

Until you didn't.

Until the carpet was at last, snatched right down from your feet.

The diagnosis came in the spring. It started with a faint weakness in his voice. A shortness of breath he dismissed with a wave of his hand. “Just tired,” he’d say, smiling that same easy smile. But tired turned into tests. Tests turned into results. And results turned into a diagnosis that was oh so cruel.

Leukemia. Early stages. Aggressive.

The months that followed were a blur of hospital visits, treatments, and quiet nights where you held him as he cried. You tried to be strong, for him, for both of you. Told him what the doctor in the sterile white office will tell you. "They've caught it early so we're not at a great risk here." You'd reassure him. "You have yet to get away from me, min min." You'd try making him laugh but he had always been better at that.

Now, suddenly he wasn't. The next two years, your life was just the slow, agonizing process of watching the man you loved fade away, losing every bit of his lively soul to the cancer, holding his hand when he was too weak to hold yours back.

Perhaps it wasn't only Minho who was chipping away. It was you too.

You turned into the woman who knew exactly how to track medication schedules, who could list every side effect of his treatment in order of severity, who spoke with doctors as if reciting a memorized script. You learned how to bite back the frustration when he snapped at you because he was in pain, and how to smile when all you wanted was to scream at the unfairness of it all.

You started to measure time not in days or months but in cycles of chemotherapy, in percentages of remission and relapse. Life was divided into hours spent in sterile hospital rooms, waiting for results that were never as hopeful as you needed them to be, and hours spent at home trying to pretend those results didn’t exist.

You had stopped dreaming. And minho had stopped painting.

Grief doesn’t wait for death— or so you've realized as you often found yourself grieving the life you had built together, the one you knew would never be the same. You grieved the sound of his laugh, which became quieter as the months passed. You grieved the way he used to tease you about your love for terrible reality shows, You grieved the mornings spent tangled together, talking about everything and nothing.

By the time the end came, you had already lost so much of him that you thought you might be prepared.

You weren’t.

And then he was gone.

With an, "I'm sorry. I love you." He was gone.

The house was too quiet without him, the days too long. You withdrew, not just from the world but from yourself, letting grief shape the edges of your existence.

The world moved on, even if you didn’t. They tell you how long it takes to fall in love but not how long it takes to get over it.

2 years, 240 days. And you're still counting.

Time passed in pieces—fractured and unrelenting.

Your family, Minho’s family, even well-meaning friends—none of them knew what to do with the mess you’d become, so they did what people often did. They tried to fix it. To fix you.

Blind dates were their answer, little nudges toward what they called healing. The word had been said so many times it began to lose its meaning. Healing. As if it were something—a destination you could stumble upon.

You didn’t have the energy to argue anymore, so you let them dress you up, hand you phone numbers, and convince you that this—whatever this was—was what you needed.

But your heart wasn’t in it.

Because as the man sat in front of you in the dimly lit bar continued to talk about how his ex couldn't handle his success, the trials of being a man with ambition, you really couldn't even bother to pretend you were interested. He was nice enough—tall, well dressed (consdering the dingy bar) with a confident smile but your thoughts kept drifting, as they often did.

2 years, 240 days since Minho had died.

2 years, 240 days of waking up alone in your bed, his side untouched.

2 years, 240 days of trying to find your way back to the woman you used to be.

“Hey,” the man interrupted your thoughts, leaning forward with an eager grin. “I feel like I’m talking too much. Tell me about yourself. What do you do for fun?”

You forced a smile, your stomach twisting. “I paint. It’s... therapeutic.”

“That’s nice,” he said, reaching across the table to touch your hand. You pulled back instinctively, your stool scraping against the floor. His brows furrowed.

“Sorry,” you muttered. “I just—”

“You don’t need to apologize,” he said, but his tone was tighter now. He leaned back, shrugging as if trying to dismiss the moment. “You know, you should loosen up a little. You’ll never find anyone if you keep acting like you’re still married.”

The words hit you like a slap, your chest tightening as you struggled to process the audacity of his statement. “Excuse me?”

“I’m just saying,” he continued, ignoring the warning in your tone, “you should give people a chance. I mean, you’re here, right?” He smirked and stood, coming around the table. “Let me take you home. We can—”

“Stop,” you said sharply, rising to your feet.

But he didn’t listen. His hand reached for your arm, his grip firm.

Then, just as suddenly as he’d grabbed you, he was gone.

The man stumbled backward, a hand jerking him by the collar. The force was so swift, so unexpected, that it took you a moment to register what had happened.

And then you saw him.

“..Jungkook?” The name caught in your throat as you turned.

You took in the man standing before you, taller and broader than you remembered, the years etched into the sharp lines of his jaw and the set of his shoulders. His dark eyes were fixed on the man who had dared to touch you, glinting coldly.

His voice was low, dangerous. “She said stop. I suggest you listen.”

For a moment, the world tilted.

You weren’t in a dingy bar anymore.

You were standing at the edge of a memory—the first time you’d ever seen Jungkook, the quiet boy who clung to Minho’s shadow.

And the last.

The last time you’d seen him, a looming figure in an ocean of black suits. A barely recognizable shadow among the mourners at your husband's funeral.

Now, standing before you, he was real, tangible—and so was the flood of emotions crashing over you.

It was so loud, you could barely hear as the the man stammered out an excuse, something about a misunderstanding.

“Leave.” Jungkook snapped, his voice sharp enough to cut and bring you back to the moment.

The man hesitated, his mouth opening as though he wanted to argue, but one glance at Jungkook’s expression and he decided against it. Without another word, he turned and stalked out, muttering something under his breath that neither of you caught.

Silence followed.

Only then did you felt his gaze on you. His presence was larger than life, and you were suddenly hyper-aware of how much had changed. How much he had changed. You hadn’t registered that at the funeral. Now, you didn't know what to say, you could hardly manage to look at him. While he wasn't Minho's real brother, didn't share any resemblance with him, it still hurt you, sucked you back into those times when it was the three of you, when it wasn't.

He too didn't reply right away, his gaze searching your face, as though he was also trying to piece together the version of you he remembered with the one standing before him now. When it landed on the arm you were clutching, the arm that dipshit had grabbed, you saw his eyes glint again.

"Did he hurt you?" It sounded more like a demand rather than a question but you couldn't even deciper the words, too focused on how his boyish tone had turned sharper, harder.

"W-What?" You fumble out like a fool.

"Did he hurt you, y/n?" This time, you heard him.

Letting your hand fall, embarrassed, you shook your head, finally managing to utter something sensible out. “No—yeah. I’m fine.”

He glanced back at the door that man had fled from before looking back at you. Finally, he exhaled, his voice low and quiet.

“You weren’t answering your phone.”

You blinked. “My phone?” You don't remember getting a call from anyone but then you realize your battery had died down as you looked down to see your dead device laying flat. "Oh. I didn't realis—"

“Mom said you’d been gone a while. Told me where you were.” He interrupted. There was an edge to his voice now, faint but undeniable.

You feel more embarrassed now that you know it's because of your mother in law's anxious nature that he is here. Your fingers brushed against the strap of your purse, desperate for something to do, something to hold onto as he speaks again. "Are you ready to leave?"

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, the words tumbling out before you could think them through. “I can get a cab.”

His brows furrowed, just slightly, and you noticed for the first time the faint shadows beneath his eyes, the hint of weariness in his expression. “It’s late,” he said simply.

"So?”

“So,” he echoed, his tone calm but unyielding, “I’ll take you.”

You hesitated, your pride and your exhaustion warring within you. Finally, you exhaled out in defeat, reaching for your coat. It's just a thirty minute ride. You reassured yourself. It'll be fine.

The cool night air wrapped around you and so did your coat as you stepped outside, and the streetlights cast long shadows that flickered as you walked toward his car. He opened the passenger door for you, his movements deliberate, and waited for you to slide in before closing it softly behind you.

The drive started in silence.

It wasn’t the silence of old friends, the kind that felt easy and safe. This was different—fraught, taut, like a thread stretched too tight.

You stole a glance at him as he started the engine, too aware of the small space you were packed in with him.

“I didn’t know you were back,” you said finally, your statement sounding more accusatory that you or he would have liked.

“Just for a little while,” he replied, his tone ofcourse, unfazed. “Business.”

Buisness. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at the word. If someone could look like that word, you thought, it'd be the man in the fine tailored suit with eyes fixed on the road ahead and a rolex that didn't look any more cheaper than the car he was driving and you wondered.

Wondered if the lines of his palms—the callouses from late-night basketball games, the way they had felt solid and familiar when he held yours to steady you on the wobbly bike Minho had convinced you to ride—had changed too.

Had they turned forigen, unyielding? Had time eroded their familiarity?

When the car slowed, you glanced out the window, expecting to see the acquinated sight of your apartment building. But instead, the streetlights gave way to a quieter, darker road. You frowned, turning to him.

“This isn’t the way to my place.”

“I know,” he said simply, not bothering to elaborate. "You're coming with me."

You felt your chest tighten, your pulse quickening as unease prickled at the back of your neck. “Jungkook,” you started, the word heavy with protest.

"Y/N." He ends, sparing you a glance that has you sinking back into your seat, arms folded across your chest like a petulant child that you could swear made his lips twitch at the corner, you could swear you saw your old friend who had grown a sassy tounge at the age of fourteen that'd earn smacks at the head from his older brother for a fleeting cruel second there. But that was it. It was gone as fast as it had appeared, summoning the return of the silence that felt like its own living thing.

The house was still the same.

That was the first thing you noticed as the car slowed down in front of the building that loomed at the end of the road like a memory waiting to consume you.

The overhead lights still flickered faintly, casting shadows across the steps where you and Minho had once sat, daring each other to stay outside until the stars disappeared. Even the smell was the same—faintly woody, with the comforting hint of whatever candle Jungkook’s mom always lit in the hallway.

You hesitated in the doorway, the memories rushing in too fast, too loud. It's not like you haven't been here in ages but since the year you celebrated your first marriage anniversary with Minho here, it felt like you have lived a thousand lives.

Lives that haunted you still, made you randomly pause in the grocery aisle and now before this house until you felt Jungkook’s presence press behind you as if silently urging you on.

Clearing your throat, you slipped out of your heels that have been as much as pain as the man you had been on a date with. The floor creaked softly beneath your feet as you stepped inside, the sound jarring. The same hardwood floors, polished to a faint sheen. The same floral wallpaper lining the hallway. The same photo frames arranged along the wall—a collection of childhoods captured and frozen in time.

But as you glanced toward the corner of the living room where the three of you used to pile up pillows and blankets for makeshift forts. The corner was bare now, save for an old armchair, but in your mind, you saw it vividly: Minho’s determined grin as he shuffled the pillows, Jungkook, always following the lead but never quite competing for it. You would snuggle a pillow to your lap, nestled between the two brothers, peeking from behind your fingers and giggling at the the way Minho’s face would light up in triumph when he won another round of rock-paper-scissors.

A type of smugness that came from knowing he’d get to flick Jungkook’s forehead next. But your smile would fade as soon as you would realize that it's your turn next. “Wait, wait!” you’d plead, wide-eyed, deploying the best puppy-dog look you could muster. It was the same look that had, on occasion, earned you extra TV time with your dad. Jungkook would glance at you and chuckle. Relent like your father would and sheild your forehead with his palm that'd have Minho pouting. "Hey! That's not how you do it!"

"Y/N?" A well recognized voice pulled you back to the where you were supposed to be, back from the fort of pillows and blankets.

You turned around and instantly found yourself wrapped up in a tight hug. You managed a small smile, letting your arms wrap around the warm frame of your mother in law, the scent of her jasmine oil and apprehensive energy pulling you in. "Mom." You greeted back.

Mrs Jeon hadn't always been this.. overbearing. Though after the passing of your husband, she had teamed up with your mother and been on a determined mission to make sure you are well and on a road to healing.

The next few minutes, she did what she had been doing best—fussed over you, asking how you’d been, if you’d eaten, if you were warm enough. In that time being, Jungkook had resigned to wherever his room was.

You planned to do the same, especially now that you could see on her face how she is on the brink of asking about the disaster tonight. You showed some obvious sign of weariness, in hopes she'd let it go for the night and tell you where you're supposed to go to bed for.

"Third on the left, my dear. And I'm gonna need you to stay for breakfast, okay?" You wondered if stubbornness was a running streak in this family.

Hours later, sleep had yet to come.

You lay awake, staring at the ceiling, counting the faint grooves in the plaster as if they could somehow lull you into rest. The trick didn't work. It hadn’t worked in your own apartment either—the one you and Minho had picked out together, picked the colors of the walls together, and argued over where the bookshelf should be. Yet, it was still your space. You could control how you faced the memories there, pacing them, deciding when and how to confront them.

There, at least, you’d managed four or five hours of sleep on a good night. Here? In this house that held so much of him, so much of them, you weren’t sure you’d manage even one.

The room you were led to was neat and welcoming, the kind of space that had been carefully prepared for guests. But there was no comfort to be found in the knowledge that two doors down lay Minho’s childhood room, untouched, a shrine to a boy who grew up into the man you loved and lost.

At some point, you gave up.

Sliding out of bed, you wrapped your arms around yourself as you padded quietly downstairs. The house was silent as you made your way downstairs, the faint hum of the refrigerator the only sound, the indistinct glow from the kitchen spilling into the dimness. You didn’t expect to find anyone there, but as you rounded the corner, your steps faltered.

Jungkook stood by the counter, a glass of amber liquid in his hand, his other resting on the marble surface. His jacket was gone, abandoned somewhere, leaving him in his dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

Tattoos.

They sprawled across his skin, intricate designs etched into muscle and sinew, that you didn't think you'd ever see on him.

Perhaps you thought wrong. Perhaps you never knew. Never knew him.

He glanced up, his dark eyes meeting yours that looked just as caught off guard as yours did. For a moment, you didn't feel comfortable moving from your spot until he eventually spoke.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, his voice quiet.

You shook your head, stepping into the kitchen. “Needed some water.” You said and opened a cabinet, finding the glasses exactly where you remembered, and filled one with water.

Behind you, Jungkook leaned against the counter, his presence impossible to ignore. Funny, how he always preferred to blend in the background as a child, now his mere cologne—earthy and warm—demanded attention, filled the room before he had even entered.

“Do you… do you drink often now?” you asked hesitantly, glancing over your shoulder, at the way his fingers curled around the glass, the tattoos on his hand shifting as he tilted it.

“Sometimes.” he said, his tone vague.

If things were anything like before between you two or anything like before at all, maybe you'd have pushed further, asked him if this was growing to be a unhealthy habit.

Now, it didn’t seem right when there was an ocean between you—a chasm of time. Felt intrusive. And you know it would only sound hypocritical from your mouth—talking about unhealthy mechanisms. Hah.

You ended up only nodding and put the washed glass back so you could go back to counting the grooves in the plaster. Resume your restless attempt at sleep.

But Jungkook spoke again.

"How long have you been going on.." He started suddenly, setting his glass down with a quiet clink. His voice was calm, but the muscle in his jaw twitched as he spoke. "These dates?"

You blinked at him, taken aback by the question. "Uh—for a while now, I guess?"

“Are you willing, or are they forcing you?”

The question, the way he asked it—sharp, direct—left you off balance. So did the way he was looking at you now, his eyes no longer holding the casualty as they once did when he had the glass of alcohol in his hand.

“I—” You faltered. “They just want to help. They think it’s time.”

“And what do you want?”

To go back to your room. To ask him what did it even matter to him, after all this time.

But what came out was forthright honesty. “I don’t know,” you admitted, “I don’t know what I want anymore.”

He stepped closer, his feet padding softly against the kitchen floor—a contrast to his rigid frame that now towered just close enough. Close enough to see how his chest rose and fell with every breath. Close enough to see how his eyes lingered on you, like he was trying to unravel something he didn’t understand.

“You don’t have to do anything for them or anyone,” he said, his voice soft but no less rough. “Not if you’re not ready.”

You opened your mouth to respond, to deflect, to do something, but his gaze held you in place, tracing down from the dark circles that weighted your eyes to your parted lips. All you could feel was his gaze burning on you and hear your own pulse in your ears.

“Jungkook…” His name escaped your lips in a whisper, barely audible.

He lingered for a beat longer, his eyes searching yours, then he stepped back, his jaw just as tight. “Get some rest.” He clipped out before he turned and walked away, leaving you alone again.

You didn't got any sleep that night.

8:00'o clock. The time's a etched number in your brain ever since you started your job at the university.

It's a routine that needs no alarm clock. It's a number you keep waiting for as you blink at the time passing. And you're more than eager when the morning comes softly along with smaller needle stopping at 8, sunlight slipping through the curtains in streaks too gentle to match the weight in your chest.

With Minho, you were the one to wake up first but here you find that the house was awake before you.

The smell of freshly brewed coffee drifted through the air, mingling with the faint sound of voices coming from the dining room. Breakfast was warm and lively, much like your mother in law. She greeted you with a brightness that almost made you feel guilty for your somber disposition.

“Good morning!” she said with a smile that could have been plucked from a painting. Reaching for a plate of toast, setting it down in front of the empty seat beside her.

“Good morning.” you murmured, sliding into a chair.

Across the table, your father in law sat at his usual spot, his attention fixed on his phone, only looking up to give you a nod of acknowledgment. You had never fully understood him, not as Minho’s father, not as a man.

Perhaps, It had always been because of the sore spot between him and your husband, the way his father disapproved of his wishes—choosing art over business, passion over practicality. You remembered the arguments you thought would never hear after the age of sixteen, the way Minho would come home, his face tight with frustration. “He doesn’t get it,” he’d say. “He never will.” You saw the way it wore on him, the way he carried the weight of his father’s disapproval like it was stitched into his very skin.

Even now, as you sat across from him, you wondered if he ever regretted it—if he ever wished he had spoken softer, loved louder. But his face was as impassive as ever, his thoughts a mystery.

“Jungkook left early this morning,” his mother said, breaking the silence. “Something about a meeting downtown.”

You nodded, relief washing over you in a way that felt almost shameful. You hadn’t realized how much you were dreading seeing him until you knew you wouldn’t have to.

“Busy as always,” you said lightly, reaching for your coffee.

The conversation drifted into familiar topics—neighbors, extended family, stories you half-listened to with polite nods. The table felt both too full and too empty, the gazes of all the people that sat there never straying to the right one in the left corner, just right beside yours.

The older woman turned to you, her tone bright with enthusiasm.

“There’s a party this weekend,” she said, her smile widening. “Just a small gathering with some friends and business partners. It would be lovely if you came with us.”

The suggestion made you squirm uncomfortably in your chair. “Oh, I don’t think—”

“It’ll be good for you,” she interrupted gently, her gaze soft but insistent. “Everyone would love to see you.”

You hesitated, the thought of mingling with people, of putting on a brave face for strangers already making you want to go back to bed. “I’m not sure I’d be good company,” You glanced towards your father in law, half-hoping he might say something to discourage the idea, but he couldn't be any less bothered.

“Nonsense!” she pressed. “You don’t even have to stay long. But it would mean so much to us.”

There was no malice in her persistence, no attempt to guilt you, just a genuine desire to include you in their lives. You couldn’t bear to disappoint her.

“Okay,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll come.”

Her face lit up with a smile. “Wonderful. Jungkook will pick you up and bring you there. That way, you don’t have to worry about driving.”

You froze, cup midway to your mouth. "There's no need for that, mom."

"Oh hush." she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “He’ll be coming from the office, so it’s no trouble.”

You nodded slowly, your appetite not too great or you just wanted to get out of here.

8'30. You glanced at the rose gold wrist watch, your first anniversary gift. Your first class is due in an hour, the perfect excuse wrapped around your wrist which you use to excuse yourself from the suffocating walls that always feel like they are closing in on you.

You have come to prefer the morning buzz of the university more—the hum of young adults chatting in the hallways, the scrape of chairs against tiled floors.It was a rhythm you found comforting, predictable in its own way. Here, you were just a professor, the one who explained history and philosophy with hands that only shook sometimes.

The teenage year you would have thought predictable as boring but you— a woman gone through a dubious sets of events found a fellow feeling in it.

Found the task of grading thesis, making power point presentation better than you would have ever imagined.

But Gods, your students need to realize that they can't dump about their toxic ex in every essay. A woman can only take so much.

You were sorting through the said papers in your office when the door creaked open, and a woman peeked her head in, the light from the outside catching in her curly locks.

“You busy?” she asked, her voice light and familiar.

You looked up to see Mira, the economics professor and one of your closest colleagues, walking toward you with her usual warm smile. Mira was more than just a coworker though—being practically family, the wife of Minho’s dark haired cousin who didn’t talk much in family gatherings, and over the years, she had become a friend you could rely on and share lunch with.

“Not for you,” you said, smiling as you waved her in.

She dropped into the chair across from you, setting her bag on the floor. “You look like you didn’t sleep a wink.”

Was it that obvious?

“I didn’t,” you admitted, sighing softly. “I stayed at the Jeons’ last night.”

Her eyebrows rose, but there was something in her eyes—a softness, an understanding—that made you look away for a second. “How’d that go?”

You hesitated, picking at the edge of a notebook on your desk. “It was… fine.”

“Just fine?”

“Jungkook’s back,” you said, and her eyes widened slightly, the topic seeming to catch her attention.

“Really? I didn’t know he was in town.”

“Neither did I, until yesterday.” You shrugged, leaning back in your chair. “Just for a while, though. Business stuff, y'know?”

Mira tilted her head, a small, knowing smile tugging at her lips. “And how’s that going?”

You frowned, caught off guard by the question. “What do you mean?”

She shrugged, but her eyes stayed on you, curious. “I mean, it’s been years, hasn’t it?"

“Yeah,” you said slowly. "It's fine, I suppose. We didn't talk much."

“Hmm.” Mira hummed thoughtfully as if tasting the question she was gonna ask on her tounge. “Are you okay with him being back?”

Were you okay with him behind back? Okay with him stepping in your vicinity after years of acting like you were not even family, let alone a friend?

“I don’t know,” you admitted finally. “It’s strange seeing him again after all this time. But he’s been… kind. Quiet, mostly.”

Mira didn’t press further, but there was something in her expression that made you uneasy, as if she knew something you didn’t.

You cleared your throat, desperate to change the subject. “There’s a party this weekend. His mom invited me. Please tell me you’re going.”

Mira winced, her smile apologetic. “Date night with the husband. Non-negotiable.”

"Oh." You tried not to show the dejection on your face but it was there. "Lucky you."

She studied you for a moment, her expression gentle. “Are you okay with going?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “I feel like I have to.”

“You don’t have to do anything for them. Not if you’re not ready.”

If only he understood how much easier it was to do things for others than to face yourself.

“Y/N…” Her voice softened, and for a moment, she looked like she wanted to say more. Instead, she reached out and squeezed your hand. “You’ll be fine. And if you’re not, you can text me. I’ll make up some excuse to get you out of there.”

You smiled, grateful for her before bidding bye to her for her next class and focusing back on the pending work spread across your desk while simultaneously going through your closet in your mind.

Minho had always said red made the brown of your eyes excel more.

And you have really tried to believe it, looking at yourself from above your shoulder, from the side of your arm in the mirror but perhaps it's not only this red, off shoulder dress that's not doing your eyes justice. It's every color you have once known, once loved.

It's like, it's you that's not doing them justice.

As you stared into the mirror, your eyes flitting from one detail to the next—the slightly uneven tuck of fabric, the exposed skin of your collarbone—it felt wrong.

The little things were missing—his hands fixing the clasp of your necklace, his voice telling you not to overthink it, that you looked beautiful. That it didn’t matter what you wore, because it was you who wore it.

But he wasn’t here.

With a sigh, you adjusted the necklace you had chosen yourself, a simple silver chain that rested delicately against your collarbone. The mirror wasn’t forgiving, but you looked anyway, searching for something familiar in your own reflection. You smoothed your hands over the fabric, told yourself this was just another party, and dodged the doubts of this being a mistake.

The knock at your door came too soon, sharp and punctual, like everything Jungkook had become.

You felt your stomach clench, nerves twisting with something else you couldn’t name. Smoothing your dress one last time, you crossed the small space of your apartment, pausing just before the door.

When you opened it, Jungkook was standing right before you.

He had stood on the edge of cliffs where oceans met skies too, in countless countries at that, walked through streets that droned with history. Scrawled through the wonders of the world—the kind that made poets immortalize them in verse—but nothing—nothing—would ever measure up to this.

To you.

You, standing in the doorway, framed by the soft glow of the hall light, your hair falling in waves that he had memorized long ago.

His chest tightened, the memory of another doorway bleeding into the moment as gaily as if it had just happened. He had been in the room meant for waiting, where your parents had sat moments before, your mother sniffling into a tissue, your father pacing in his polished shoes. Now it had been his turn.

The thought alone of being the second person to see you before you walked away from him for good had made his tie that he had been trying to get the hang off felt too stressed around his neck, his palms clammy despite the air conditioning. He rubbed them on his pants, glancing at the small clock on the mantle every few seconds. The minutes dragged, each one seemed longer than the other.

What would you look like?

The thought ran circles in his mind, only for a creak of the door to startle him back.

Footsteps had echoed in the quiet, minimizing the distance until he could practically feel the nervous energy of a bride bounce against his. "Okay. You can turn around now." He had heard you speak, had seen the skittish smile on your face before he even turned around.

And when he did, he felt as if the air had been sucked out of the room.

The dress hugged you like it had been designed with only you in mind, its soft fabric flowing as if in defiance of gravity. Your veil cascaded behind you, catching the light, and your smile was small, almost shy, as you looked up at him, waiting for his reaction.

“Well?” you prompted, turning slightly, your hands brushing the fabric at your sides. “What do you think?”

What did he think? He thought the universe was wicked for allowing him to witness this and still expect him to let you go.

He had swallowed hard, forcing his voice to steady when he finally said, “You look—” His tongue had faltered over every adjective that came to mind. Beautiful wasn’t enough. Breathtaking felt like a cliché. “Perfect.”

You—Beautiful, Devastatingly, so.

You—who weren’t his to look at this way.

He feels his breath catch, his hands clenching at his sides to keep himself from reaching for you.

Because while that version of you had been a dream, this version—worn, weathered, but still so unmistakably you—was real. And the reality of you had always been what he wanted most.

Fuck. He shouldn’t be here.

He shouldn’t have agreed to pick you up, shouldn’t have stepped into this space, should have kept the distance he had spent years bridging.

But he has always found himself hopeless and running back to wherever you were concerned, hopeless in a way that had him studying for a test he didn’t even have to keep you company or show up.. here. Content to be near you in whatever capacity he could. He told himself it was enough. That it would be enough to watch you from the sidelines, to sit across from you at family dinners.

It wasn’t.

Because Jungkook wasn't a virtuous man. He never had been.

Virtue belonged to his brother—the one who could weave dreams out of thin air, who saw the world in colors Jungkook had never learned to name. His brother—Minho—who had been the light, the warmth that people, he gravitated toward. He had admired Minho, even envied him, resented him in ways he never admitted aloud and kept it in shadows.

When Minho died, the shadow became a man. And that man had spent years running.

Running into work, into unfamiliar cities, into the kind of purpose that left no room for thought. No room for the times when everything was right, when he tasted family and friendship for the first time ever, no room for the last time he tasted it when you walked down the aisle to his brother looking at him like he was the sun and how it burned, how he had burned with nails biting into his palms.

And only men with no integrity burn. Men who are cowards, restless, afraid of thier own greed try to run, in hopes that the distance would save them.

But distance didn’t save men like Jungkook.

Because here he was again, standing before you, the fire still smoldering.

“Hi,” you said softly, your voice pulling him back, creating a doubt in his belief.

“Hi,” he replied, his own tounge feeling heavy in his mouth.

“You’re early,” you said, your tone carefully light.

He cleared his throat, his hands slipping into the pockets of his slacks in an attempt to keep them to themselves. “Traffic was lighter than I expected. Are you ready to leave?"

You nodded and he stepped back, revealing his sleek Mercedes benz parked just right in front. He let you walk before him, watching how your movements were hesitant, as if the ground beneath your feet wasn’t entirely steady. He wanted to ask you if you were okay. He wanted to tell you it was okay if you weren't.

He settled for opening the car door for you.

“Thanks for this,” you said, your gaze fixed on the passing streetlights. “I know it’s probably the last thing you want to do.”

His grip tightened against the leather of the steering wheel with a force that made his knuckles ache. There was a rancorous way that you spoke to him, carefully restrained, that he couldn't even blame you for.

"It's not." He gritted out. "It's not a problem."

He had earned every inch of this gap between you, had spent years building it brick by brick, mile by mile. He's all to blame for. For carving the space between you with every ignored call, every excuse he made to avoid family dinners where you’d inevitably be.

For the leaving the wreckage in his wake—yours, his, theirs.

It wasn’t fair to hate the consequences of his own choices.

But hell, if he didn't outright loathed feeling like he was staring at a wall of frosted glass when he looked at you—where he could see the outline of you, but the details were blurred, distant. Like he had lost the privilge of knowing you from one glance, lost the privilge of having you speak up to him whenever you wanted, call him out, intoxicate him with your laughter that lightened up a room he wasn't even aware was dark. Found it fucking unbearable.

So much that he felt relief washing over him when the venue of the gathering came in view. A grand mansion, framed by manicured gardens and sprawling oaks that seemed to whisper old secrets to one another. It had a timeless elegance that made you wonder how many lives it had seen pass through its doors.

Small gathering, she said. You scoffed internally at rich people and their definition of small.

“Nice place,” you murmured as you walked beside him, your steps careful on the stone path after the car was eased into a parking spot.

“It’s the Kim's family home,” Jungkook said. You nodded, though the name didn’t spark much recognition. The Kims had been mentioned here and there at family dinners—names dropped in passing between sips of wine and shared laughter. You had barely paid attention then, too busy suppressing laughs at the jokes that Minho whispered near.

The front doors were open, the faint scent of fresh flowers and expensive cologne wafting out to greet you. Inside, the space was as opulent as expected—high ceilings adorned with crystal chandeliers, polished floors that gleamed under the soft light, and clusters of well-dressed guests milling about with drinks in hand.

A tall man stood near the entrance, his broad shoulders and sharp jawline making him impossible to miss. Beside him, another man stood with a softer air, his eyes crinkling with warmth as he leaned into the first man’s side.

The taller of the two men turned, his expression lighting up as he spotted Jungkook. “There he is,” He said, his deep voice carrying effortlessly.

"Hyung." Jungkook softened, clasping hands in a firm shake before pulling each other into a brief hug, the kind that spoke of collaboration and respect.

You shifted awkwardly on your feet, your fingers curling around the strap of your purse as you wondered whether to step back and leave him to his conversation or stay and risk being out of place.Would it be rude if you chose the former?

You were saved from your uncertainty when the two of them pulled away from Jungkook and took you in, a gleam of recognition passing through their face. Recognition, shock, then pity. You know how it went.

“You must be Y/N,” the taller one said, his gaze shifting to you with a warm smile.

You blinked, clearly caught off guard by the direct attention. “Yes, that’s me.”

“Kim Namjoon ” he said, offering his hand. “And this is Seokjin, my partner.” You smiled, nodding in acknowledgment before taking the hand of the charming one in the beige suit. “It’s nice to meet you, both. This is a beautiful venue.” You assume that they're the hosts of the party. The Kims that this house belonged to.

“Thank my father for that,” Namjoon said with a chuckle. “Sixty years old and still insists on hosting the most extravagant parties. He’d never let me live it down if I didn’t pull out all the stops.”

“Extravagant is an understatement,” Seokjin chimed in, his tone playful as he glanced at Namjoon. “I’m pretty sure half the flowers in the city ended up here.”

You smiled again, but it faltered when Seokjin's expression changed in a beat.

“We’ve heard a lot about you too,” he said gently, his gaze dipping briefly to Jungkook before meeting yours again.

You tilted your head, curiosity flashing across your face. “All good things, I hope.”

“Of course,” Namjoon assured you. “Your family is well-regarded, and we-we're sorry about Minho. He was brilliant in every sense of the world. We can't even imagin—"

“Thank you,” you said softly, trying really hard to not let the tightening of your throat strain your voice. “He was.”

Jungkook watched as your smile faltered, just slightly, at the mention of Minho. He decided to steer the conversation away but you recovered quickly, offering a polite nod and beat him to it.

There was a brief, loaded pause before you glanced at Jungkook. “I should find mom. She asked me to join her earlier.”

"Yeah, right.” Jungkook said, his voice steady despite the way his chest tightened again when he looked at you.

You walked by Jungkook, brushing close enough that your shoulder brushed against his chest, the faintest hint of your vanilla perfume that was so maddeningly you lingered in the air. He tensed, his breath catching before he could stop it. His fingers twitched at his sides, an almost imperceptible motion, but it was enough.

Subtle as he tried to be, he caught himself leaning slightly, his chest rising with a quiet inhale as though he could take the ghost of your scent and keep it for himself.

"Not as subtle as you think." Seokjin snickered by his boyfriend's side who also raised an eyebrow, his expression knowing and somewhat giving away his discomfort. “Is there something you’d like to share with the class?”

Shit.

Jungkook straightened, his jaw clenching as he avoided their eyes, fixing the collar of his shirt hoping they won't catch on the heat creeping up on his neck too. “Don’t.” he said quietly, his tone low and edged with warning.

"Maybe you don't sniff her like a dog in public? Maybe you have some decorum?" Seokjin judged, proud and loud.

"I have plenty, hyung." The younger male side eyed the older one, his eyes narrowed and the tips of his ears already crimson red like he was a boy caught watching porn for the very first time.

Namjoon sighed, though there was a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Let him be, honey.”

But the look he gave Jungkook was far from dismissive. It was the kind of look that saw too much, that peeled back layers Jungkook wasn’t ready to confront. Gods, he needed new friends.

He turned his attention back to the crowd where you disappeared.

The soft hum of conversations and the faint clinking of glasses followed you as you weaved through the grand hall, your eyes scanning for your mother-in-law’s familiar figure. The air in the mansion was heavier than it had been when you arrived, the brush of silk against silk, the way every movement seemed calculated, observed, and weighed.

You navigated through the crowd like a ghost in a gallery, your steps measured and slow, eyes flicking to the floor more than once to avoid the speculative stares. With rich circles came dirty gossip—whispered words disguised as laughter, false smiles that hid daggers. You’d learned to let them roll off your back, like rain on stone.

The Jeon matriarch had mentioned being near the back, closer to where the banquet tables were set. You followed the direction she’d gestured toward earlier, passing servers who moved seamlessly with trays of sparkling champagne.

Halfway through the journey, your steps faltered as your gaze landed on the centerpiece of one table—a chocolate fountain. Warm, rich, and cascading like liquid satin, it stood surrounded by an array of treats. Strawberries gleamed like rubies in the low light, their surfaces polished and inviting.

You hesitated, glanced around as if expecting someone to berate you for indulging in something so ordinary, but eventually, you plucked a strawberry and dipped it into the cascading chocolate.

You let the sweetness settle on your tongue, closing your eyes for a brief moment. For the first time all evening, you found this place somewhat tolerable.

Free food always making things better.

“Excuse me, miss.” a small voice piped up beside you, tugging on the flowy end of your dress.

A boy, no older than six or seven, stood by your side, his wide eyes flicking between you and the fountain. He looked as if he had stepped out of a luxury children’s catalog, his little suit tailored perfectly, his bow tie slightly askew. “Can you grab one for me? I’m not allowed to reach it by myself.” he asked, pointing at the fountain. His voice was polite, but there was a hopeful edge to it, as if he wasn’t used to asking for things twice.

“Of course, love.” you said, your lips curving into a small smile. You picked another strawberry, dipping it with care before crouching slightly to hand it to him. "There you go."

“Thank you!” he chirped, grinning immediate and radiant, the kind that softened the edges of a hard day.

"What's your name?" You asked him, crouching down to his level.

“Do-yun!” came a sharp voice, the kind that turned your stomach before your brain even processed it.

Who you assumed was the boy's mother stepped forward, her elegance severe, her lips painted in a red that matched the strawberries. She took her son’s hand but not before her eyes raked over you, head to toe, with an expression that left no room for interpretation.

"What did I tell you about bothering strangers?” she scolded do-yun who stared at the skewer in his hand apologetically.

“He wasn’t bothering me,” you said gently, straightening up and having the woman’s eyes flicker to you again, assessing.

“He just wanted a treat.”

Her eyes flicked to the chocolate fountain, then back to you, her lips pressing into a tight smile. “how kind of you.”

There was no warmth in her tone, no hint of gratitude. Just a faintly dismissive air. And with that, she turned, her child in tow, leaving you with the faint scent of something floral and the taste of bitterness on your tongue.

You'd learned better than to expect warmth from people bound by history.

You'd learned not to mind it. To overlook it. To not pay attention to them at all.

"That's her, isn't she?"

“Such a shame, losing her husband so young.”

“Yes, but you know, they weren’t exactly power players, were they? He was an artist, wasn’t he?”

The words hung in the air like cigarette smoke, acrid and inescapable.

A laugh, soft and cruel. “I suppose she’s lucky the Jeons still keep her close. Poor thing, all alone now. Must be awful.”

You stopped in your tracks. The sharp sting of their voices cut through the party’s hum, louder than the music, louder than your own heartbeat.

You could feel your palms start to get sweaty, eyes suddenly unable to meet anyone's.

Breathe. You reminded yourself.

One: Find your breath.

Two: Focus on something neutral—the fountain, the floor, the chandelier above.

Three: Remind yourself: They don’t know you. Their words are weightless.

But weightless wasn’t the right word.

“Though, you’d think she’d be a bit more modest. That dress isn’t exactly… widow-appropriate, is it?”

You tried to focus on your numbers but you lost it.

You turned, your fists clenched, your lips thinned, the polite demeanor cracking away from your face under the weight of your frustration.

“I’m sorry,” you said, your voice sharper than you intended. “Was there something you wanted to say to my face?”

The women froze, their eyes widening in surprise. One of them, a younger woman with a nervous smile, tried to backpedal. “Oh, no, we didn’t mean—”

“Because if you have an issue with me or my dress, feel free to say it outright,” you continued, your voice clear despite the way your heart hammered in your chest. “I’d hate for you to waste any more time whispering behind my back.”

The group exchanged glances, communicating in a language of their own, you couldn’t care less about. Atleast not in this moment.

“We didn’t mean to offend,” one of them muttered, her tone brittle.

“Of course you didn’t,” you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “How could I possibly take offense to strangers dissecting my life as if it’s some dinner party entertainment?”

Stupid old hags with no life of their own!

You kept that to yourself.

Then, without waiting for a response, you turned on your heel and stormed away.

The chandeliers above blurred as tears pricked the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Not here. Not now.

You weren’t looking for anything specific—just distance, just air that wasn’t thick with judgment and whispers. A bathroom, maybe, though you weren’t going to ask for directions not when your voice felt like it would crack the moment you opened your mouth.

People brushed past you, their scents of expensive perfumes swirling in the air, their muted voices blending into a hum you couldn’t quite focus on. One or two bumped into your shoulder, but you didn’t apologize, didn’t bother looking back.

You just needed to get away—you just needed out of here.

And then, as if the universe wasn’t finished testing you, a firm hand of another one of a frame you jerked into, closed around your wrist, halting your momentum.

You looked up, brows scrunched, eyes glossy and mouth parting, ready to snap but then you were met with a amicable pair of dark eyes.

A crease of his own wrinkling his forehead as he looked down at you. "Is something wrong?" He asked and you almost wanted to laugh mockingly.

Instead, you did what you initially wanted to do. Your eyes flicked to his hand, then back to his face. “Let me go.”

He hesitated for a moment, tounge poking his cheek, grip on your hand loosening but not releasing entirely. "What's wrong, y/n?"

“I said, let me go,” you repeated, your voice firm, frangible at the edges before you pulled your hand away from him and pushed past to walk away without another word.

The next random hallway you stumbled into was quieter, emptier, and for that, you were grateful, stretched ahead like an endless corridor of polished wood and muted gold accents. The noise of the party faded into the background, muffled by the thick walls and heavy doors.

You couldn’t find it in yourself to roam around mindlessly any further. This should be good enough, you told yourself and leaned against one of the walls, your forehead pressing against the cool surface as you tried to breathe through the wave of vehemence emotions that crashed through you.

One: Inhale.

Two: Exhale.

Three: Forget the words they said. Forget them.

But they echoed, persistent and savage, circling in your mind like vultures.

Poor thing, all alone now. Must be awful.

You’d think she’d be a bit more modest. That dress isn’t exactly widow-appropriate, is it?

Your chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths, your hands clutching at your dress as if the fabric could somehow hold you together. But nothing could, nothing had. You had tried and tried and tried.. and fuck you didn't wanted to do it anymore.

Turning around, your head tipped back against the wall, the ceiling swimming in and out of focus as your vision blurred.

You shouldn’t have come here.

You should have stayed home, buried yourself in the comfort of your quiet apartment where no one whispered behind your back or looked at you with pity thinly disguised as deference.

Why did they care? Why did it matter to them how you dressed, how you existed, how you grieved?

It shouldn’t have mattered.

But it did.

You pressed the heels of your palms against your eyes, trying to will the tears away. Crying wouldn’t help. It wouldn’t change anything.

Your hands gripped your clutch tightly, the edges digging into your palms, and for a moment, you considered throwing it—hurling it across the hall just to feel something break.

But you didn’t.

You couldn’t.

Because even here, in this quiet, empty hallway, you felt the silent expectation that you hold yourself together, that you keep smiling, keep nodding, keep existing in a way that made other people comfortable.

You hated this. You hated being you. You hated being the one who was left behind. And God you hated being alone. No Minho to make a quiet joke about the ridiculousness of it all and pull you toward something fun and irreverent.

Just you.

It will be always be just you. You've never admitted that to yourself but now that you did, you feel such panic rise in your chest that you don't hear him at first. Not until his voice broke through the haze.

“Y/N.”

It was soft, tentative, but it still cut through the silence like a blade.

You flinched, your head snapping toward the source of the voice. Jungkook stood a few feet away, his dark eyes searching yours, his expression shadowed with concern.

He had followed you.

“I told you to leave me alone,” you managed, your voice trembling as you turned away, willing him to disappear.

“I’m not leaving,” he said, his footsteps growing louder as he moved closer with a cautiousness that made you feel like a wounded animal. “Talk to me.” He added, the pleading in his voice almost running free.

"I mean it, Jungkook.. go away." You tried putting distance between the both of you again but far too quick for your slowed senses, he was now standing right in front of you, hands hovering in the air as if he didn't know what to do with him while also knowing.

"And I told you, I'm not leaving." His tone had coarsened and your dam had broke.

“Why now?” you cried, stepping closer to him, your fists balling at your sides. “Why do you want to stay now? You’ve spent years acting like a stranger, Jungkook. Years acting like I didn’t exist. And now—”

You shoved at his chest, your fists pounding weakly against him, but he didn’t move.

“Now you want to act like you care?” you yelled, your voice cracking as you hit him again. “Now you want to be here? Why?”

Jungkook stood still, his arms at his sides, his chest solid and unyielding beneath your fists. He didn’t flinch, didn’t step back, didn’t even try to stop you. He just let you hit him, let you pour out everything.His silence infuriated you, and yet it steadied you in a way you couldn’t explain.

"Why do you care now?" you repeated, your voice cracking, trembling like your hands as they hit his chest incessantly. Each word felt like it scraped raw against your throat. "Where were you, Jungkook? When everything fell apart, when I—when I needed someone. Where were you?"

“I don’t need you now!” you snapped, your tears falling freely now. “I don’t need you to come here and act like you care, like you’ve always cared, because we both know that’s not true."

“Because you left!" your voice cracked, the words laced with betrayal. The hurt from the breach of faith weakening you and your punches on his chest until they finally stilled, your hands trembling still as they curled into the fabric of his shirt. Jungkook caught your wrists, his hold firm but gentle, and for a moment, you fought him, your breaths coming in sharp and ragged. But when he didn’t let go, when he didn’t flinch or step back, the fight drained out of you.

Your knees buckled, and his arms came around you slowly, hesitantly, as if he were afraid you might push him away. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. You were too tired now. Empty hands that had been holding onto something for as long as you could remember were too tired, have forgotten the feeling of what it felt like to be held instead.

You allowed to let yourself feel that. You allowed yourself to feel someone else other than the woman you couldn’t even recognize in a mirror as you sagged against him, your head pressing against his shoulder as your tears soaked into his shirt, body shaking and shivering from the quiet sobs that you let out.

"I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry, angel." You heard him say those words like a mantra against your hair, arms tightening around you, nestling you close against his chest.

For a moment, you heard pain there, raw and unfiltered, pain that felt similiar to your own in ways you hadn’t expected. You clutched his shirt tighter. You didn't wanted to be alone and Jungkook felt and smelled of times when you weren't. Earthy and Warm. Like that one time when he pulled you in to him after the death of milo- your first dog, and didn’t even mind your snort.

You had clung to those memories but it felt better clinging to him. A small, desperate part of you wanting to drag him closer, to cling to what little you had left of the past. The rest of you wanted to push him away, to keep screaming at him for daring to come back after all this time, after all this distance.

The sobs subsided slowly, leaving behind the kind of stillness that felt fragile, as if it might shatter with the wrong word or movement. Jungkook didn’t push you away, didn’t loosen his hold. If anything, he pulled you closer, as though he feared you’d slip through his fingers if he let go.

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him, your gaze searching his face. His eyes shadowed, a stupid perfect strand of his stupid perfect hair falling on his forehead with tension prominent in his jaw and you wondered if there was a time there wasn't.

You wondered if it would make you any more vulnerable that you are right now if you say the words that sit on the top of your tounge, sting in the tears that linger in the corner of your eyes.

“I missed you,” you said softly, the words slipping out before you could stop them. They felt dangerous, like exposing a wound that had barely begun to scab over.

His eyes darkened, a low sound rumbling in his chest—something between a growl and a sigh. “Fuck,” he muttered, his hand coming up to cradle the back of your head as he pressed his forehead to yours. “I missed you too, angel."

The rawness in his tone made your chest clench, a part of you craving more, while another part shrieked at you to stop this before it went any further, gather whatever semblance has left of you and walk away, play his cards against him.

But you have never been too good with cards or walking away.

“Then why did you leave?” you croaked. “Why did you stay away for so long?”

His gaze dropped to the space between you before meeting your eyes again, his own breathing now getting uneven. You could feel it beneath you. Rising. And Rising. And Rising.

"I didn’t knew how to look at you and not feel like I'm.. betraying him." His voice trembles as he drews in breath and you're so close you feel the heat of it brush against your temple. "And I can not, not look at you. That became a problem."

Your body stiffened at the confession, the world around you shrinking until it was just the two of you, his voice echoing in your ears.

Your first instinct was disbelief.

This can't mean what you think it does.

This can’t mean what you think it does!

The words replayed in your mind, over and over, refusing to settle. Each repetition twisted something deeper, something buried in the hollow space that had once been you.

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him, needing space, needing air.

He didn’t move. His gaze followed you, his expression resolute, like he was determined to lay everything bare now that the first truth had slipped out.

But you didn’t even wanted to acknowledge it as something, let alone, a truth. “That’s not—” Your voice cracked, and you forced yourself to start again. "Are you drunk, Jungkook?" You found the thought so repulsing, you could only think of ways to brush this up, put all the blame on the champagne.

From the way his eyes narrowed and brow ridged, you could tell that it was not the champagne.

“Y/N.” he says with a warning. “I’m not fucking drunk.”

“Well, you sound like you are,” you shot back, your tone sharper than you intended. “Because that—what you just said—sounds like something someone says when they’re not thinking clearly. You're not making any sense, Jungkook!"

“It makes sense,” he was starting to get frustated now. “It’s the only thing that’s ever made sense to me.”

And you were starting to get scared. You needed him to stop talking. Anything and everything he said made you physically want to recoil. You took another step back, your arms wrapping around yourself as if you could shield yourself from the weight of unsaid words that are no longer so.

“Don’t,” you said, your voice breaking, hands tempted to cover your ears like a child. His confession felt like a pin pulled from a grenade, and now the blast was unfurling within you. “Don’t do this. It's not fair. It's-It's not fair to him. Or me. Or you."

I know. He admits quietly to himself because he doesn't think anyone knows better than the man who was holding the jagged ends of a once delicate thread. And he hates himself for it because hating you was as unrealistic as the existence of a greater being to him. He had tried. Tried turning to salvation. Tried to despise you for being the one thing that has turned him the best and worst person he can be but he just can't. He prefers hating himself better.

He wants this punishment, that is you. He wants to whisper I'm sorry- I'm sorry for leaving- I'm sorry for coming back in every crook and nook of your body for the rest of his life so you'd feel his expression of regret that could only be a product of love so consuming embedding into you.

Because it's truth. It's his truth, has been for years and years, before he even knew what are the consequences of being a honest person. Now that he is seeing you in front of him—you with a revolting look, a stray tear rolling down your eyes that is nowhere near as angry as it had been before, he understands that it's not a consequence he can take.

He dares to step forward again and even if takes a whole lot of power in him not to pull you into him again, he doesn't and only raises a hand and catches the tear with his thumb.

“You don’t get to do this to me.” you repeat, your voice low and trembling.

And so does his. "I know."

Jungkook didn’t know what he expected you to say, what he hoped for. Forgiveness? Understanding? He wasn’t sure he deserved either.

Yet when you don't pull away, look back at him with the same daring he had stepped forward with, a silence understanding passes between the space that is separating you from him. And he's done being separated from you.

He tilted his head down, his breath stirring your hair when he inhaled deeply, his nose tracing a path down until it rubbed against yours—softly, deliberately—as if giving you time to move away. You didn't and his eyes fell on your inviting mouth again.

Fuck it.

Jungkook surged forward, his hands cupping your face, tipping your face up to him as his lips crashed against yours. The way he kissed you was nothing like the way he had touched you. It was rough, desperate with the way tounge and teeth clashed, filled with years of pent up desire and regret and emotions too tangled to name.

He kissed you like the nights he’d spent staring at the ceiling in places too far from home, wondering if you’d be happier without him there to complicate things, wondering if things had been any different if he said something before. Will you have looked at him like the way you looked at his brother? Would that choice have saved you from years and years of tragedy? Would that have saved him from the weight of his guilt, his love—love that had been a silent, unwelcome presence in his life for so long that it felt like another organ, vital and inescapable?

When he felt you grip him again and kiss him back. Nothing else mattered. The world stopped spinning and he didn't wanted to run anymore.

His hands found your waist, gripping tightly. A low groan slipping from his mouth to yours at the feeling of how you melted against him when he deepened the kiss, tounge proding and exploring all that your sweet mouth had to offer. Gods, he was drunk now.

"Shit." He shuddered as the taste of you finally started to settle in, pulling you closer and closer, then pushing you back until your back met the wall of the hallway.

You should be scared, anxious and pushing him back. The mere thought of someone walking in on you kissing him, your supposed family. Should make you want to end this because you could only imagine the stake they'd pin you on. They'd be not wrong to.

This is traitorous—what you're doing, what you're allowing yourself. But so is a shameful part of you that had always reached for him. Something that whispered to you, so soft it felt like it came from inside your own chest.

It's not so bad. His lips feel good.

But oh, it is. It makes you sick from just thinking how bad it is. Anger, confusion, guilt—oh, the guilt—swirl together and make you so sick.

"W-We shouldn’t.." You gasp against him as your unpracticed lips suck on his in a contradiction.

"No, we shouldn't." He kisses you harder, his mouth only leaving yours to trail a train of kisses along the column of your accessible throat to him, making you whimper out loud that he takes as an sign to nibble and bite.

Your hands find their way to his shoulder and his to your hips. "Legs around me." He licks the length of your neck, narrowing your world down to the feeling of his provoking wet tounge on your skin, his calloused fingers squeezing your hips. It felt all too real now. And despite you being balant enough to start this in the first place, you're not sure if you're still feeling bold. What you are feeling is this sinful, unexplainable craving seeping into your bones, curling around your ribs, making it hard to breath and think. Or maybe it's him.

Whatever it is, you get yourself to pause his eager hands and hungry mouth and speak, your breath coming in short, hot puffs. "Jungkook.. I don't think-" He straightens up and the vulnerability in his voice and eyes is gone as he squeezes your hips tighter.

"Finally gave me that perfect mouth of yours and now you want to walk away? Do you like tormenting me, angel? Do you like knowing that I'd fuck my fist to only the thought of you when you do?" He growls against your ear and you feel yourself flush so hard you're sure he even feels the heat coming off you in ripples.

"Please, baby." He pleads unapologetically, fingers tugging you closer even when all of you is pressed against all of him. "I want you." So bad it hurts.

Gone is the man who had once been so armored, seemed so unreachable and untouchable. And left is Jeon Jungkook, who looks like he will crumble to the ground if you pull away now.

You wouldn't want that. But the words came anyway, right from where shame twisted in your stomach, tangling with the guilt that clawed at your throat. "Do you still want me even if I'm nothing like the woman I used to be?" It came out breakable and in segments, and the second they left your lips, you weren’t sure what to except as a answer.

For a moment, all you could hear was the ragged rhythm of your combined breathing.

You swallowed hard, pulling back slightly to meet his gaze. The intensity in his dark eyes was almost unbearable, raw and unrelenting as they searched yours.

"Don't ever say that again." he bit out, every syllable heavy. "I want you always. I want you with my every breath. There's always been only you for me, understand?" He added with a brief grind of his hardened arousal against your front, making you mewl.

The words, though, hit you like a physical forcek, breaking through the walls you’d built around yourself, the ones you’d convinced yourself were impenetrable.

Before you could respond, he moved.

His mouth fell onto yours again and with practiced ease, his hands slid to the backs of your thighs, lifting you like you weighed nothing. "Now. Legs around me, baby." he murmured in the kiss, and though your mind was a whirlwind of what seemed like every single thought you've ever had, your body obeyed.

You could barely figure out to where he was taking you, too engrossed in the kiss that you steered towards a softer, mellow one, fingers tangling in the hair that has grown a little bit on the nape of his neck. Feeling like you both were two audacious college students trying to find a space in a messy party where you both won't be interrupted.

When he halted in his steps, you assumed that he found it as he kicked it open with a firm nudge of his boot, the room beyond dim and quiet but he barely give you time to register anything else, his movements urgent and frantic as he carried you over to the bed in the middle after swiftly locking you both away. You bounced on the silk mattress as he set you down, though his intentions were grave, his actions or the way he held you was gentle, tounge swiping over his glistening lips like chasing the taste of you that made you want to give him once more.

Audacious, you were.

Your eyes on his face, shadows played along the planes, softening the hard edges of his jaw, but his gaze burned. Dark and piercing, it held you in place as if daring you to look away.

You didn’t.

Your eyes followed the sluggish movements of his hands as he reached up, his fingers deftly working the knot of his tie. The fabric slid free, whispering against the buttons of his dress shirt before he cast it aside, forgotten on the nearby chair.

Next came his jacket. He shrugged it off with practiced ease, the broad span of his shoulders rolling beneath the fabric. Your breath hitched as he discarded it, leaving him in the crisp white shirt that clung to his frame, the outline of him barely hidden.

And then his hands moved again, this time to his wrist.

You watched, mesmerized, as he undid the strap of his watch, the silver buckle catching the faint light. He pulled it free and set it down on the nightstand, the movement so fluid it felt almost rehearsed.

It wasn’t until he turned his wrist slightly that you noticed it—the worn thread of a bracelet wrapped around his wrist, faded from time and use but unmistakable.

The one you’d tied around his wrist when you were kids in an action of promise to stay friends for years to come.

But he still wore it.

He still wore it.

Your fingers twitched against the bedspread, the urge to reach out and touch him almost overwhelming.

And as if understanding your anticipation, he soon followed you down, your breath catching as he hovered above you. You waited for him to kiss you again because god help you, you liked a little too much but he only pressed a chaste one, smirking subtly at the pout that subconsciously formed on your lips that soon parted in a gasp when he started to suck on your neck again, this time with the intention to claim the spot with the scrape of his teeth.

He hummed against your skin, the sound deep and satisfied, before he drew your flesh into his mouth again, harder this time. The sharp pull sent a jolt of pleasure-pain coursing through you, thighs clenching together.

"My angel." he said softly, yet nothing was soft about the way he pulled down on the straps of your dress. The fabric slipped, baring the smooth skin of your shoulder, and he pressed his lips there, warm and firm, before trailing lower, his mouth following the path he’d just uncovered. "My undoing."

The red fabric gathered at your arms as he pushed it further, exposing the tops of your collarbones and the swell of your chest. His gaze flicked up to meet yours then, dark and questioning, seeking permission even though his hands were steady, his intention clear.

You nodded, perhaps with too much enthusiasm and earned a chuckle from him that you were sure was the reason for the wetness pooling between your legs.

You had missed that sound. You had missed him.

And he was hell bent on making up for lost time as he dived face first into your chest, humming again when he took in your pebbled nipple in his mouth, swirling his tounge around the roundness of you.

"Oh shit." Your back arched, hands finding their way to his hair again. Pulling and tugging. Urging him on until his hand was fondling the other, abandoned tit. Squeezing under his rough palms that made the heat lowering your stomach worse—all of it felt too much, too soon. And yet, it wasn’t enough.

It had been so long.

Too long since someone had touched you like this, with a reverence that made you feel seen, whole, wanted.

You told yourself it was natural, that anyone in your position would respond this way. That it wasn’t about him—it couldn’t be. But your body betrayed you before your mind could even catch up. Your legs wrapped around his waist once more as you ground yourself against him. Against the print of his bulging length you could feel pulsing against you.

"Fuck yeah.." You cursed low, head falling back on the pillows and Jungkook looked up, his own cock twitching at the sight of you, at the feel of you. Of everything he has ever wanted. Of everything he thought he would never have. But here you were straight from his flithest wet dream that would have him taking more cold showers that he could keep count of.

A goddamn miracle for him, this wasn't a dream.

"This here needs some attention too, hmm?" He rasped, hands slipping down from the curve of your waist, to bunch up your dress to your hips. Wasting no time in finding the wet mess you made of your panties. "Look at this." He grunted, hand cupping your clothed mound. "So wet."

You exhaled out like you'd been freed from shackles that felt too heavy and a whimper followed right after when he disposed you of them, exposing your deprived cunt to the cold air that had you clenching around nothing. "And so fucking responsive." He breathed against your bare sex after moving his head down.

You hadn’t expected that. You breath was bated, cheeks were flushed and heart was pounding at the view alone of his face between your thighs.

Then again, he was all about surprising you today.

Though, it didn't make it any less overwhelming.

The way his hands gripped your thighs, firm yet careful, as if he were both anchoring you and holding himself back. His fingers dug into your skin just enough to leave the faintest imprint, a reminder of where he had been, where he was. Your legs draped over his shoulders, trembling with a mix of anticipation and disbelief, as though your body was still catching up to the reality of this moment.

Never in your wildest dreams, it would have come to this. Come to Jungkook licking a greedy strip up from your folds.

"Jungkook—oh God!" You gasped and he groaned, feeling all of his restraint and the plan to savor this, to savor you, slip away from his tightening hands. One taste of you and he wanted to grasp every drop of like it would be his last.

And so he did.

Burying his face in your wanting pussy like a man with purpose, he lapped. His mouth wrapped around your clit, tounge swiping and licking with a reverence because you were something sacred, something he had put on a pedestal so high, others in his life barely mattered.

"Oh- mhm. Feels so good!" You moan out, mind in a haze of pure fog and he takes it as his cue to plunge his digit inside your dripping core. You're sure you've got no mind now. Grunts of his own leaving him at the thought of your heat wrapping around his aching cock instead.

He felt no shame in that. No shame in what he was doing right now. Because then you moved, your body arching toward him as if to erase every doubt. Your fingers found their way to his hair, tugging as selfishly as he fed on you, flatenning his tounge on your slit to take all he can get, to give you all he can.

A shaky exhale brushing against your folds. The sound was low, guttural, and filled with more longing than he knew how to contain. "Does it, baby? Sweet pussy's feeling good?" His fingers—knuckles deep now—worked you faster, curling and testing ways to get you closer to the edge.

This was more desire that he knew he was possible of as his hips started to rut on their own, seeking friction in a way that was both instinctual and helpless. Brain flat lining. Face drowned in the essence of you. Desperate, as you pulled on his hair. Pathetic, as he chased his own high from just the taste of you, from just how you enveloped his curving fingers. Ecastic, when you finally reached your breaking point from how he alternated between broad strokes and targeted flicks, making you come all over his mouth that kindles his face, that he swallow all because he refuses to let anything go to waste.

"Ah fuck—Oh lord!" You fingers tear in his scalp and hips bucked against his face, eyes rolling back until they whitened.

Oh.

It was in this moment, with your thighs braced against his shoulders and his name spilling from her lips, that Jungkook knew.

He would never be the same again.

That he too would be coming in his pants like a high school boy.

It wasn’t enough—nothing would ever be enough—but it was all he had, and it drove him to the edge faster than he would’ve liked to admit. The tension inside him snapped before he could stop it, his body tensing and toes curling because he found everything else secondary to the sheer joy of watching you fall apart beneath him.

"Oh shit, y/n. Shit. Shit. Shit." He whimpers against your cunt, his hips finally slowing down their mindless movement. His forehead pressed against your thigh as he caught his breath. His chest heaved, his heartbeat thundered in his ears, and his entire body felt like it was vibrating, the aftershocks of his release making his muscles twitch.

He swallowed hard, his throat dry, and shifted slightly, pressing a kiss to your clit before leaning back up to feel another wave of release threatening to overcome him when he sees your content expression, hands loosening their grip in his raven hair, half lidded eyes meeting his own before they trail down. "Y-You.." You didn’t know what to say, couldn’t have spoken even if you tried.

A lazy smirk made it's way to his lips that caught the light before he licked whatever remnant what was left of you on his fingers.

"I'm a starved man, angel. Cut me some slack." He panted, pinching your bud in emphasis and moved back up before you could even process it, the warmth of his breath retreating, replaced by the cooler air of the room as he straightened. The absence of his lips against you left you gasping, your chest heaving, your pulse thundering in your ears or maybe it was you still riding your orgasm or maybe it was the knowledge that he came in his pants from just eating you out.

Then he was there again, his hands sliding from your thighs to the mattress on either side of you, bracketing you in like a secret he refused to let escape.

"Hi." He breathed against your forehead.

You felt a shy smile twitch on your lips. "Hi." You reply just as breathlessly.

He presses another kiss, this time to the tip of your nose. "I'm gonna fuck you now, yeah?" You couldn’t reconcile it.

How could he say things that made your cheeks flush, your body respond in ways you couldn’t control, while his lips brushed against your temple with a tenderness that felt like an apology?

How could he make you feel like you were unraveling and being held together all at once?

You wanted to know. "Mhm. Please." You mewl, hands softly going through the beautiful mess that you made of his hair.

"Please, what?" He demanded, lips on your cheek.

"Please fuck me." You whine and he bumped his nose against your face, chest rumbling from a sound so feverish that you can't help but grind against him again. Coaxing his cock back into hardness with your bare cunt against him, from the realization that you shared the insatiable urges with him.

It got his hand trembling when they reached down to unbind his belt, pushing the fabric down his hips to reveal predicament he's made of his boxers that were bounding his hard, leaking cock but hell if he had it in himself to care.

He had been bidding his time for far too long. Waited enough—longer than any man should have to wait for something that felt this inevitable, this right, this his.

Ridding himself of the last piece of clothing on him, other than the white dress shirt that flexed against his coiled muscles, he took himself In a fist, groaning when he pumped himself in one slow stroke. Eyes never leaving your wide ones like you weren’t sure if you should be impressed, intimidated, or both.

Your breath hitched audibly, and your chest rose and fell as your eyes darted from his face to the undeniable evidence of his arousal. Heat bloomed across your cheeks, but you couldn’t seem to tear your gaze away, couldn’t stop the thought that immediately took hold.

"You're too big." Your throat dry, and your fingers fisted the sheet beneath you, trying not too think too much about how thick he would feel down your throat. The sounds he'd make when you would lick him just right.

"And you're gonna take every inch." He said it like a statement, a prominent vein popping in his neck when he finally let go of the locked gaze and focused instead on compressing the tip of his angry, veiny cock to your slick folds.

"Won't you, angel?" He asks with a confident smirk passed your way for a second before his breath wavered again, brows scrunched together and if it wasn't for his tip nudging inside you, you'd thought him endearing.

But once his tip is actually is in, you're left with no thought. Rendered speechless, eyes falling shut when he starts to jab inch by inch.

"Dear lord—" You gasp out loud. The sheet beneath you not providing much semblance so you switch to his shoulders. And you swear, he feel him shake when he is finally all in. Closes his eyes and relishes in your heat stretching around. "Fucking hell." The sensation was overwhelming—heat and softness so consuming it felt like his mind short-circuited, every thought dissolving into static.

But you feel that its your pussy that feels like it's going to split apart any moment now that's stopping him from moving. And partly it is. "You're so..tight." He hisses out and squeezes your hips with great roughness.

"Been long since you've been fucked, eh?" He muses, dark hungry eyes devouring yours when he makes an attempt to move inside you like he was testing your limits. Your mind reels, caught between the sharpness of the initial sensation and the overwhelming desire that followed.

He felt impossibly big, like your body wasn’t prepared for the sheer intensity of him, and for a fleeting moment, doubt crept into your thoughts.

It’s been so long.

The thought came unbidden. Your body had grown used to quiet nights and cold sheets, to the impersonal hum of a vibrator and the absence of warmth.

"Been so long." You confirm, nails clawing at his shoulders, mimicking the roughness that only spurs him on. His lashes fluttered shut, his forehead drops to your shoulder and with a whine of disagreement from you, he pulls back fully just to (to your satisfaction) bury himself back to the hilt.

An unadulterated moan from you broke the silence, a sound so sweet it made him want to come right there and then again. But he'd much rather have you convulse first. Priorities.

His jaw clenched, a low groan rumbling in his chest as he started to move his hips against yours, slow and deliberate, like he needed to feel every inch of your.

Your legs tensed around his hips, pulling him closer. You couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop the way your body reacted to him, your mind a dizzy blur of heat and need and overwhelming sensation.

He pulled back again, the drag of him leaving you feeling empty, only to return with the same slow, measured thrust.

“That’s right,” he muttered, his voice rough and uneven, barely coherent through the sounds your free spilling moans and the fact that his face was buried in the crook of your shoulder. “You’re—fuck, you’re perfect.” His voice unrefined at the edges, raw with honesty and disbelief, like he couldn’t believe you were really here, with him, like this.

Your hands slid down his back, clinging to the flexing muscles beneath your palms. You suddenly didn't like that his shirt was still on. Wanting to map out his bare skin with every graze of your nails. But with each thrust, pleasure sparked at the base of your spine and spread outward, your thoughts scattered like autumn leaves.

"Yeah- Oh mphm! Just like that!" He flourished in your cries of encouragement, his grip on your hips tightening, his fingers digging into your skin as he was afraid he'd lose control too soon.

And you wanted nothing more. "F-Faster! Please go faster!" His pace was unhurried but devastating, every pull and thrust deliberate, designed to drag you to the edge and keep you there, teetering. You couldn’t take that anymore.

And Jungkook couldn’t take keeping you unsatisfied. His lips found the corner of your mouth, brushing against it in a fleeting kiss before moving lower, his teeth grazing your jaw. His hands moved to your thighs, urging them higher, wrapping them around his waist as he drove into you with more force, more intent.

“taking me so well, was made for this cock.” Were made for me. he praised, his voice sounding like a backdrop to the obscene sounds his hips snapping against yours as your own body moved with his, meeting him with the same intensity, the same desperate need. "Yeah." He grunted, punctuating his words with a squeeze to your boob. "Fuck me back. Use me. Feel me."

All you could possibly do was feel him.

He felt like fire and electricity all at once, a heat that spread from your core to the very tips of your fingers and toes.

“Jungkook…” you whispered again, your voice catching on the syllables when his head tipped forward, his forehead pressing against yours, his damp hair brushing your skin.

He whimpered in response, a deep, guttural sound that reverberated through you, and he pistoned his cock harder, pulling a cry from your lips that you couldn’t hold back.

"I-I missed you." You can feel tears gather in your eyes again. You don't even know why. Why you're repeating what you've already admitted. Why the words feel more vulnerable now. All you know that you missed him and the coil is tightening in your stomach.

Jungkook, too feels like he will break down any moment when he stares down at you. But he’s got a impending orgasm to deliver.

He kisses your eyelids, is tempted to lick the tears that slowly make their way down to your chin but doesn't. He's not sure he'll be able to handle the taste of your despair without feeling like he has to chastise himself for ever being the reason for it.

"I know. I know." His cock thrusts with renewed vigor. "I missed you too. I missed you." He says through his gritted teeth, feeling how your walls fluttered around him.

"Gonna cum now?" He knows what your answer will be. There's a smug underline tone in his rasps that gives him away. How he takes pride in knowing that he's the one to make you release all this tension; once on his mouth; then on his cock that is pulsing with an reoccurring ache.

You can only manage to nod, lips tightly tucked between your teeth, hands scratching and marking on his once crisp shirt that is now crumpled from the fate of your hands.

"Gonna soak my cock, huh? Go ahead, baby. Go ahead and come with me." He demands, his hand slipping between you to rub tight circles against your puffy clit that is just enough to tip you over at last.

"Koo.. ah..oh god!" The name you've always called him with a fondness falls unintentionally from your lips when your walls tighten for the last time and you release all over his cock that is now stuttering with it's every thrust.

"Oh fuck. Call me that again." He all but snarls. Cock turns firmer inside your heat that hugs him. And balls screw up.

"Koo.." You whine and that's all he needs before thick ropes of white hot cum is spilling inside you, filling you to the brim. "Mhm, take it all. There's my girl. Pussy looks so good stuffed with my cum." He grinds the best his spent body can into yours that still welcomes him and fuck if that doesn't make him never want to leave.

And he doesn't, for a moment, when he collapses onto you. Just not enough to crush you under his weight. Just enough to latch his lips where ever he can find and whisper words of affection. "Could'nt fucking breathe without you." He's yet to get enough of you. This life won't suffice, he thinks. Then finally pulls out his softening cock from your slick hole with a hiss.

You too feel the loss the of the connection that had pulsed faintly between you, leaving you achingly empty.

He moved with the same carefulness, reaching for the tissues on the bedside table. The room was quiet save for your mingled breaths as he knelt beside you, his touch impossibly tender as he wiped at the inside of your thighs. You shivered under the cool press of the tissue against your skin, the sensation making you acutely aware of the aftermath—the way your body still quivered, the way your breaths still came uneven.

You stared at the ceiling while he did so, the edges of your perception blurred as you tried to silence the tingles that still hummed across the length of your legs. A reminder of how throughly he had disentangle you, how throughly his very essence had penetrated into you.

You were ruined by him.

There was no going back from this. You knew that.

What scared you was the realization that you didn’t want to.

You just didn't know how to admit that out loud where everyone and he could hear you.

Your eyes seeked out for him as if that alone could answer all your questions. He returned back against you without a question. Hands finely adjusted the strap of your dress and drew you closer to him with a soft voice, hoarse from the strain of everything he’d given you. "Come here, angel." Bundled you up in his arms and then only did he breathe out.

Your breath stayed differing. “Why do you call me that?” Your voice was curious but tentative. “I don’t think I’ve ever asked you.”

You felt his lips curve up against your temple. "You were wearing this really pretty white dress the first time I met you." he began, his voice quiet, almost wistful. “Had these frills on the sleeves. I thought you looked like an angel."

You tried to piece together the memory. “That was so long ago."

It might be understood that it takes months to fall in love but Jungkook had been falling all his life.

2K notes · View notes

tsunodaradio · 3 months ago

Text

pick your poison, babe (i’m poison either way) ⛐ 𝐋𝐍𝟒

♫ and i'll tell you one thing, honey: i can tell when somebody still wants me. come clean.

ꔮ starring: lando norris x dj!reader. ꔮ word count: 2.8k. ꔮ includes: fluff, romance. mention of alcohol, profanity. unspecified monza race win, feelings realization/denial, lando has a crush. title from taylor swift's imgonnagetyouback. ꔮ commentary box: feels apt to dedicate my first post on this blog to the person who introduced me to F1, @norrisradio. papaya forever, baby. this feels like something that could be part of a bigger story, but for now! enjoy a down bad lando. <3 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The Monza podium still feels like a fever dream. The kind of night he should be spending at an over-the-top afterparty, champagne showers and all, with people yelling his name like he hadn’t just spent two hours driving for his life.

Instead of basking in the glow of P3 with the rest of the grid, Lando finds himself tugging the brim of a McLaren cap lower over his eyes, slipping past the bouncer of an underground rave.

He mumbles something unintelligible when the bouncer glances at him for a beat too long, and the guy doesn’t press. Maybe he doesn't care, or maybe he just thinks Lando’s another kid trying too hard to look mysterious. Either way, Lando is grateful.

Lando hurries down the narrow hallway, his trainers squeaking against the concrete floor as the bass rattles through the venue like a pulse.He tells himself he’s here for the music. That he’s been desperate for a proper night out, a way to blow off steam without the whole world watching.

But the truth is, he knows exactly who’s playing tonight. He’d seen the lineup on Instagram— your name sandwiched between two other local DJs— and something in him short-circuited.

You’ve met a couple of times, exchanged a handful of words over mixing decks at a mutual friend’s house party in Monaco. He picked up DJ-ing as a hobby a few years back, a way to kill time between races.

He had become painfully aware of how much of an amateur he was the moment you’d started playing. You made it look effortless.

He’d been hooked since.

Not in a crush way, obviously.

That would be ridiculous.

Lando shoves his hands into the pockets of his hoodie and follows the glow of LED lights deeper into the venue. The air smells like sweat and cheap liquor, the crowd a chaotic mess of limbs and blurry faces. People bump into him, and Lando mutters apologies swallowed up by the music.

He clocks you at the DJ booth almost immediately.

It’s embarrassing how quickly he finds you. How his eyes cut through the sea of bodies like they’ve been trained on you this whole time.

You’re lit up in shades of red and blue, fingers dancing across the soundboard with a kind of swagger that makes Lando want to rip his cap off and run straight back to the paddock.

He tells himself he won’t get too close. That he’ll hang back, maybe grab a drink and nod along like he’s just here for the vibe. But then you glance up from the decks, and your gaze flickers through the crowd like you can sense him there.

Lando panics, jerking to the side and bumping into someone holding a full cup of beer. “Mate,” the guy groans, shaking liquid off his arm, but Lando doesn’t even register it.

His pulse is hammering, a bead of sweat rolling down the back of his neck. Must be the heat, he thinks to himself.

He’s not nervous.

He’s not.

Lando leans against a graffiti-splattered wall, heart in his throat as the bass thrums through his chest. He’ll stay for a bit. Maybe until your set ends. Maybe until you step off the stage, and he can casually, accidentally cross paths with you.

Just to say ‘hi’.

Nothing else.

The beat thrums through the floor, reverberating up Lando's spine like the aftershock of a race. Bodies move in synchronized chaos under the strobing lights, but he only sees you.

You, perched behind the DJ booth, fingers deftly turning dials and sliding faders. Your hair is damp with sweat, the glint of neon catching on your skin. You look like you belong here— like the music isn't just something you play, but something you breathe.

Lando tells himself he’s just appreciating the artistry, the technical skill.

It has nothing to do with the way his chest tightens every time you flash a grin at the crowd.

His feet start moving before his brain can catch up. He snakes through the crowd, heart hammering harder than it did on the podium. He angles himself perfectly— or so he convinces himself— lingering just by the side of the stage.

When you descend, your set concluded, your shoulder brushes his chest. Lando executes the most intentional accidental bump in history.

“Oh, shit— sorry!”

He barely registers your words. The second your eyes meet his, he knows he’s completely screwed.

Recognition blooms on your face like a firework. When you smile at him, it feels like the entire world tilts.

“Lando Norris?” you laugh, incredulous. “What are you doing here?”

He tugs his cap lower, hoping it might shield him from how devastatingly charming you are. “Just thought I’d check out the music scene,” he lies, his voice failing to land anywhere near casual.

You cock your head, suspicious but amused. “And you just so happened to end up at my set?”

Lando swallows, throat tight. “Just my luck,” he says, the words brittle on his tongue.

You laugh, the sound bright and sharp despite the dozens of other noises warring for his attention. The music hums through Lando’s body like a second heartbeat, but it dulls to a murmur the longer he stands next to you.

He’s keenly aware of every movement you make. The way you tuck loose strands of hair behind your ear, the lingering adrenaline in your smile, the subtle shift of your weight as you rock on your heels.

“You here with anyone?” you ask, voice still pitched a little louder from your set. “Want anything? A drink?”

Lando shakes his head so quickly he almost gives himself whiplash. “No, I’m good. Thanks, though.” He licks his lips, nerves writhing in his chest like live wires. And because he’s a masochist, he asks, “Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Here with anyone.”

You tilt your head, brows lifting. For a second, Lando thinks he’s made a mistake, that you’re about to brush him off, but then you shake your head with an easy grin.

“Nope,” you say. “Just me.”

The knot in Lando’s stomach loosens, and the relief is instant— almost shameful in how palpable it is. He feels a little steadier now, a little more like himself. The familiar tinge of confidence edges its way back into his voice.

“Well,” he starts, just on the right side of teasing, “I hope I’m not keeping you from anything.”

Your gaze lingers on him, contemplating. Lando swears his pulse stutters.

After a beat, you shrug. “Nowhere better to be.”

A small, smug smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, but he bites it back. “Guess that makes two of us,” he says, just loud enough for you to hear.

The bass thumps back to life, rippling through the crowd like a living thing, and you tilt your head at Lando, eyes glinting with mischief.

“Do pretty little drivers like you even know how to rave?” you ask, voice raised over the music.

Lando scoffs, the sound drowned out by the beat. He lifts his chin, his usual cocky edge peeking through. “Do pretty little DJs like you know how to drive?”

You laugh; Lando thinks he could live off the sound. Before he knows it, you’re tugging him back into the crowd, bodies pressing in on either side as the music surges. The neon lights flicker across your skin, and Lando, without really meaning to (or maybe meaning to a little too much), lets the crowd shift him closer to you. Shoulder brushing shoulder, arm to arm, fingertips grazing as you both move to the rhythm.

It’s a flimsy excuse to touch you, and he’s pathetically grateful for it.

You notice the way his eyes flicker to the occasional flash of a camera, the way he subtly angles his face down to keep the shadow of his cap in place. You lean in, close enough that your lips nearly graze the shell of his ear. Instinctively, he tilts his head down so you can reach him without straining too much.

“Tell me, Norris,” you tease, your voice a low hum that curls through his chest, “are you still racing?”

“What?” he sputters out with a laugh.

“Answer the question,” you insist, unable to hold back your own laughs. “Are you racing away from something? Racing towards something?”

Lando knows the answer. That doesn’t make things any easier. And so he does what he does best— play it off, be incorrigible. “Pardon?” he asks, feigning the hardness of hearing. “You have to speak up!”

You roll your eyes, the expression making you look a lot cuter than Lando cares to admit. “Nevermind,” you holler, pulling away.

The pang of loss he feels is incomparable to his relief. For the next hour or so, that’s how he dodges your more invasive queries.

“Why are you really here, Norris?” you ask at one point, voice raised to cut through the noise.

Lando cups a hand around his ear and squints at you like he’s struggling to understand. “Sorry, what did you say?”

You shake your head but try again. “Why are you here?”

“Did you just ask if I’ve got hair in my ear?!”

You smack his shoulder, but he only grins wider, reveling in the way your touch lingers just a little longer than necessary. “You’re impossible,” you huff, but your smile softens the words.

A beat passes, and then you add, quieter, “I’m glad you’re here.”

Lando’s chest tightens. For a second, he forgets how to breathe. He recovers fast, though, leaning closer until his forehead nearly bumps yours. “Yeah,” he says, voice low but clear despite the music. “That’s what I thought you said.”

Your eyes narrow in suspicion, catching him out. “So you can hear me!”

He laughs, and laughs, and laughs, feeling very much like he won for a second time that night.

The night wears on. Lando could keep going, really, but then your hand grazes his wrist. A fleeting touch before you beckon him with a tilt of your head. Lando follows without a word, the warmth of your fingers lingering on his skin like a brand.

He keeps his head down, tugging his cap lower as you weave through the venue. He glances around often, wary eyes flitting to clusters of people, to the occasional glint of a camera lens reflecting the strobes.

“I promise you’re not going to have dating rumors come tomorrow,” you say, catching his unease. Your voice is low, teasing, but there’s a sincerity beneath it that makes his chest ache.

“Promise?” he asks, trying to match your tone, but his voice wavers.

You smile, throwing a casual look over your shoulder. “Swear on it.”

Lando doesn’t know how you manage to navigate the labyrinthine corridors of the venue, weaving through bodies and shadowy hallways with practiced ease. You take him through a side door and up a flight of stairs, the clatter of your footsteps echoing in the narrow space.

At the top, you push open another door. Suddenly, you’re outside. The rooftop stretches out before you, bathed in the glow of the distant city lights. The air is crisp, carrying the faint scent of night-blooming flowers and lingering smoke. From up here, the music is a distant hum, the chaos below reduced to a quiet murmur.

You walk over to the edge, resting your elbows on the ledge. “Better?” you ask, looking at him out of the corner of your eye.

Lando exhales all the tension in his body before settling next to you. “Yeah,” he says, voice rough. “Better.”

The view is breathtaking. Monza sprawls out beneath you, a patchwork of golden lights against the darkened landscape. Lando watches you tip your head back to look at the sky, the faint sheen of sweat on your skin catching the glow from the streetlights.

You’re radiant.

It’s not fair.

“Is this your usual post-set ritual?” he asks, leaning his forearms on the ledge.

“Kinda,” you answer vaguely. “Helps me clear my head.”

Lando hums in agreement, though his head feels anything but clear. His heart is still pounding— not from the dancing, not from the adrenaline of sneaking around, but from being this close to you.

You half-turn to face him, your shoulder brushing against his. “So,” you start, playful but quiet. “Are you finally going to tell me why you’re really here?”

“Ah.” Lando laughs at your attempt to double down. “So that’s what this is. A trap.”

You arch a brow. “I mean, it’s a fair question. Podium finisher skips team dinner to go rave in Monza?”

Lando squints at you, a slow grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Wait,” he starts slowly, “you knew I podiumed?”

“Everyone knows,” you deflect, looking back out over the city lights.

He inches closer, eyes gleaming. “You checked.”

You don’t even hesitate, barreling on where Lando might’ve sidetracked. “Of course I did,” you say. “I wanted to know if you’d win.”

Lando blinks, caught completely off guard. The rush of exhilaration that barrels through him is almost disorienting. “You were rooting for me?”

“You act like that’s weird.” You glance at him again, the corner of your mouth twitching upward. “I may not know much about racing, but I know enough to hope you’d end up on top.”

Lando’s throat bobs with a hard swallow. He doesn’t know what to do with that, doesn’t know how to process the fact that you— the person who makes him feel like he’s spinning out even when he’s on solid ground— had been watching, keeping tabs.

He clears his throat, feigning nonchalance. “I guess I had to come celebrate with my number one fan, then.”

You snort. “I never said I was your number one fan.”

He clutches his chest like you’ve physically wounded him. “Ouch. Brutal.”

You laugh, the sound echoing into the night, and Lando fears it’s becoming his new favorite noise. Much better than the squeal of tires, the roar of crowds, the electronic dance music that’d been spun downstairs.

“So?” you prompt, turning to face him fully. “Why are you here, Mr. P3?”

He tilts his head, mouth curling up in a sly smile. “What was that?”

Your eyes narrow. “Don’t start.”

“Couldn’t hear you,” he quips, cupping a hand to his ear. “Something about my heart?”

You push off the railing. “I swear, Norris—”

"Okay, okay!" He laughs, hands raised in surrender.

The second your expression softens, though, he falters.

The truth sticks to the roof of his mouth like honey, too sweet and too heavy to spit out. He glances down, scuffing the toe of his sneaker against the concrete. “I just… wanted to unwind. Long weekend. And…”

Fuck it. Lando swallows. Scratches the back of his neck. “Maybe I wanted to see you play.”

The words slip out like he’s admitting a felony. He doesn’t dare look at you, afraid of what he might find in your face. Amusement, pity, or worse— understanding. Because you’re smart enough to figure it out, figure him out. Because you probably already know what he’s danced around this entire evening.

He risks a glance, and his heart stutters.

You’re smiling.

Not in a way that mocks or patronizes, but something softer. Something that knots him up inside.

“Maybe?” you echo, tilting your head.

Lando exhales, rubbing a hand over his face like he can physically scrub the embarrassment away. He takes a careful step closer, shrugging like the confession doesn’t carry the weight of the world.

“Okay, probably,” he relents. “But, like, only a little.”

You hum, pretending to think it over, and Lando swears his heart is trying to punch a hole through his chest.

“I can live with that,” you say after a moment.

It’s not much. It’s not a denial, not an acceptance, but it’s not like Lando is asking for anything, either.

He could, he realizes. Ask what you have planned after this, ask if you’d like to chase each other through Monza’s streets like one of those old romantic comedies his mum would make him sit through.

Instead, he only manages a soft, almost breathless, “Yeah?”

The hope in his tone is a dangerous, treacherous thing. It’s almost as damning as the way he shifts just a little bit closer to you, the two of you leaning back against the railing.

Lando isn’t going to kiss you tonight. He knows that much.

Not tonight, but maybe—

“Yeah.” Your voice sounds just like his. Tender, hopeful. A whisper of I don’t mind seeing you, a promise of next time. Wherever and whenever that might be.

Your shoulders press against each other.

Neither of you pull away. ⛐

#lando norris x reader #lando norris imagines #lando norris x you #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fluff #f1 x reader #f1 imagines #f1 fluff #⛐ kae prix #⛐ ln4 #me when i use yet another taylor swift lyric for something... fork found in kitchen!!!#i will nail the f1 tagging system someday. today will nawt be that day

450 notes · View notes

gaywineauntsstuff · 5 months ago

Text

Me: I really like dc canon and frankly I think that fanon flanderizes the characters to the point where they are unrecognizable

Also me: Dick and Jason are drinking buddies,

Tim has put kon, Bernard and Steph in a gc called “the roster” and dipped.

Dick is not allowed to meet Barbara’s friends bc they all like him too much and then it’s rlly hard to bitch about him. (This is actually kinda canon thank u Dinah lance in birds of pray lmao)

The reverse of this is also true but for Dicks exes and Barbara like they get along TOO well.

Babs and Kori are friends.

Babs and Donna are sworn enemies. (Mutual)

Dick gets a different signature food with each of his siblings except Steph cuz they get smoothies.

Dick keeps trying to get Steph and Donna to meet up but Everytime he tries Gotham gets blown up

Damian refuses to sneak pets in a trench coat bc it’s bad for them to be squished.

Duke is the only bat who knows about the mpreg joker story

Tim and Jason’s only texts to each other are “help” or “you lil shit what did you do!!?!”

Tim, Jason, Cass and Duke all like the discowing suit

Steph and Damian hate it

Damian says he’s spending the weekend not with his dad and everyone assumes Bruce and talia are trying split custody but he needs to bitch about Bruce so he goes to bludhaven

Donna and Dick get drunk together and get progressively more and more sappy about how they should move in together and how much they love each other, you’re amazing no you’re amazing.

Roy and Dick are besties who text like a divorced couple trying to coparent

Dicks exes are in a discord server called “raw. next question” and they have channels called “red heads only” “also dated his brother” “tried to kill him” etc

The redheads don’t have names in this discord “redhead 1” “red head 2” “redhead 3” and so on

They also don’t discuss dick in this server at all

Bruce calls dick for ideas about the Brucie Wayne persona and also when he just doesn’t get why people are mad at him.

Dick calls wally for help with menial tasks

Tim is a big big big fan of THC (same)

Dick goes to raves

Jason is actually the DARE Robin

An image of Dick at a rave went viral on Twitter and Bruce had a mental breakdown so did Jason

Stephanie will never ask Bruce for anything but she buys a 10$ coffee every morning on his card bc of that video of people saying young people can’t buy houses bc of Starbucks and avocado toast.

Jason has a video of 19 yr old Dick spitting at a police officer and he sent it on the family gc when he found out dick went undercover as a cop. It is one of 5 messages he has sent.

Everyone of the Bats is some shade of bisexual

Dicks house is the defacto Bruce is being a lil bitch for the bats and literally everyone who is affiliated with Bruce as long as you bring liquor you’re welcome

Garth and Dick watch sad movies together

Tim and Bruce watch all the bond films together

Damian and Dick watch bird documentaries together

Jason doesn’t watch tv bc he’s a secret hipster (he doesn’t have a tv they keep blowing up.)

Linda has absolutely asked Dick to swing with her and Wally and Dick told Wally about this and Wally’s only reaction was…”soooo is that a yesss or a no?”

The fab 5 titans all hate each others exes, refuse to acknowledge any guilt their friend had in the matter , and will absolutely pretend none of them have dated (they have all dated)

Bruce is in absolute denial that his children date. Like he knows dick has dated people but he assumes that it is kindergarten dating “ah dick spent the night at Barbara’s they must really like holding hands” “Bernard and Tim are moving so fast I mean I saw one of them kiss the other on the cheek??” Meanwhile he has traumatized all robins to ever Robin bc him and Selina Kyle can’t keep their hands right themselves

Also me: cognitive dissonance thank you for your service

Dick has like 25million ig followers, donna does his photos

Tim has a very popular shitpost account on Twitter from his pre Robin days that has statements like “if i was Batman I would simply barricade Arkham” and “stalking Nightwing rn we are up to 120 flips and 30 quips…. There is no else here”

747 notes · View notes

sluttysnowangel666 · 3 months ago

Text

sweet like candy - choi su bong / thanos

pairings : thanos/ su bong x fem reader part 2

summary/request : despite only a few insignificant interactions with thanos, he grows jealous when he sees you talking to an ex marine, dae ho.

warnings: jealous thanos, use of drugs, swearing, violence, ooc thanos bc he’s kinda nice most of the time except for when he’s jealous, lowkey sub thanos idk how it happened but bros a good boy😭, oral(f receiving), hand job, sex(p in v)

ngl this is not my best work unfortunately:( it just feels like i rushed too much at certain parts but i just didn’t want it to be too repetitive to other stories with too much detail when we all know how the games work. send me some requests, i wanna do au or write for thanos where the reader and him are outside of the games

not responsible for the content you consume, use discretion when reading past the border. 18+

“Señorita, excuse me.”

You turn, an eyebrow already raised at the strange pet name you’d just been called. It’s a tall, young ish man. You take in his appearance; his hair is a bright shade of purple, slender fingers painted like infinity stones, marked with dark tattoos, chunky rings, and a cross necklace.

You don’t respond, instead continuing to walk in the eerie room painted like the sky, with a giant doll at the other side.

You sigh, still confused at how you ended up here with 456 other people in ugly green tracksuits and millions, if not billions, of won in debt.

He raps you a song, also stating his name is Thanos, which you try to tune out but its mediocrity makes you stifle a laugh. He notices, and your sweet smile makes him smile.

“I like you.” He says, flashing you a little heart with his fingers. You roll your eyes, walking past him as he lingers on your trail.

A man runs out, player 456, you note. He begins screaming, saying the game was “Red Light, Green Light” and the doll was going to kill us if we moved. His reaction makes you nervous, his fear seemed so genuine.

“My dad comes home like this sometimes,” Thanos says, noticing your shift in demeanor. “Saying there’s bugs in the walls and his phone’s been tapped by the government.”

“Do you think the guy yelling is high?” You ask.

He smirks a little before answering, which doesn’t go unnoticed by you. “Fuck no.”

The game begins, and Thanos takes your hand. You go to pull away but his grip is tight.

“Let go.” You whisper, on a red light.

“Come on, señorita. Let’s stick together.” He whispers back.

Before you can respond, the girl in front of you starts screaming about a bee landing on her. She faces you both and laughs a little.

“Oh, shit. I just moved, didn’t I?”

Bang.

Blood splatters on you and Thanos’ face.

“Don’t scream.” He whispers, but even if you wanted to, you couldn’t. Your body is in shock, frozen. You grip his hand in return now, trying to hold your shaking.

More rounds continue, but neither of you move. That is until the man tells you to finish you have to be behind the doll. Thanos moves you behind him, and you press your head into his back with your eyes shut tight, gripping his jacket. He slowly moves, pulling you with him.

A woman reacts to the body, and an another shot goes off. Panic ensues, as people run and shots fire continuously. All you can hear is screaming and shooting.

During the next green light Thanos doesn’t move, but you feel him fidgeting around. Two rounds go by of this before he finally moves again.

He lurches forward, and you feel him go “Ding” as he pushes a group of people down. Three shots ring off, and during the next green light you let go of him. He doesn’t even notice, skipping and jumping and dancing during every green light.

In the end, you survive. Splattered in blood, yes, but alive nonetheless.

You avoid him after that, feeling unnerved by the way he played during the games. You noticed him sharing a pill with a guy later, which made his behavior in the game make sense to you.

You sat on your bed, your face buried in your knees as you rocked back and forth. The lights were out, everyone going to sleep but, how could you? After everything you saw?

You glanced up at the piggy bank, glowing gold

and filled with won.

———

The next game was about to begin.

You had been brought into a room, eerily similar to the one with the doll, except the room had rainbow tracks and pink suit men standing around it. They ordered you to get into teams of 5.

You wandered around, searching for a group of people who wouldn’t kill you for fun.

“Hi.”

You turned, facing a handsome dark haired man, his hair half tied up. He was neatly kept, carrying himself with confidence and grace, despite everything.

“Hi.” You respond, meekly.

“Would you like to join our group?” He motions to the 4 men behind him. Their faces are stoic, but they look friendly enough. You notice the one man on the team was the one who warned everyone about the last games. You accept their offer; it’s not like you really had a choice anyway. Besides, why not let them pity you if they felt sorry enough to offer you a spot? No one else was itching to have you on your team…

Or so you thought.

On the other side of the room, Thanos was searching for you to be in his group. He felt inclined to protect you now after the events of the first game. The drugs were fueling him into wanting to be the hero of your story. He was convinced he could you get out of here, and you would tell the world Thanos the Great saved you with a snap of his fingers. Besides, such a sweet face like yours? It would be such a waste for you to die somewhere so silly.

He finds you, in the sea of people, talking to another man.

He fumes with rage, the ecstasy making him react more uncontrollably than usual.

He bites his lip, all of his prior convictions now forgotten. Let the bitch die then, he thinks to himself.

The games start, and players drop like flies from the first groups alone.

Thanos’ team goes, and you can’t help but cheer when you see them play successfully. You jump up and down, laughing and clapping at their win.

Thanos locks his eyes on yours, noticing your childlike joy at his win. It makes him strangely prideful, makes him forget why he was so mad at you in the first place.

He bows to you, like a musician after a performance. You blush a little, smiling at him, forgetting why he scared you in the first place.

Your team is last, and you’re up first playing ddakji. Your whole team plays successfully, and you survive another round of the games.

You go back to your bunks, Dae Ho wrapping a friendly and comforting arm around you as you both walk. You sit with your group, eating and laughing while you slowly forget the chaos around you.

Thanos watched it all play out with Dae Ho again. His palms were sweaty the whole time, hoping you’d survive and walk back into that room. The second you walked back through the door alive, his eyes were on you.

“Are you good?” Nam Gyu asks Thanos, noticing his eyes constantly following you.

“I don’t know what the fuck are you talking about.” Thanos spits, defensively. He takes another pill, needing the courage for his next move.

“Let me have one.” Nam Gyu begs. Thanos reluctantly hands one over.

Nam Gyu takes it with haste, as Thanos stands and makes his way towards you. He quickly gets up and follows his friend, ready for whatever fight may come.

Each time you laugh at Dae Ho, Thanos picks his pace up a little faster. He’s convinced that it’s like with each laugh that slips past your honey coated lips, then the closer Dae Ho is to getting to taste them. He sways his body unnaturally as he walks, wanting to appear more bad ass than he really felt.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He says as he approaches you.

“Thanos.” You say, a warning in your voice to leave you alone.

“You good, bro?” Dae Ho asks.

“Why the fuck are you talking to my girl?” He addresses Dae Ho now. You and Dae Ho both scoff in disbelief, but this is how your reaction played out in Thanos’ mind.

They both laugh

“Dae Ho, you’re so funny.”

“Well, you’re sexy.”

“Let’s make out and fuck right here in front of Thanos.”

“Whatever you say, beautiful.”

He reaches his hand out, grabbing you by your jacket and yanking you to your feet.

“Thanos!” You yell. Dae Ho and In Ho stand up to diffuse the situation. Before they can even intervene, you land a closed fist to Thanos’ eye.

He backs away, holding it as a little cut forms.

“Crazy bitch.” He says. He points at Dae Ho. “You stay away from her.”

“Fuck off.” You yell at Thanos. He backs away, still facing you and nodding his head in anger. His face reads This isn’t over.

“You okay?” Dae Ho asks. You nod, slightly breathless.

The way Thanos grabbed you was rude,

unnecessary,

controlling…

and hot.

You wanted to kick yourself for feeling so attracted to him in that moment. He was mentally unstable, high; everything that could be wrong with a man, he was.

Yet here you were, yearning for a piece of him just as he yearned for you.

Later that night, you couldn’t sleep in your bunk. You were stressed with nerves, with the thought that each next day could be your last. You tapped your foot relentlessly against the frame of the bed, until a person above you made a threat.

You sighed, getting up and walking to the door to be let to the bathroom.

You washed your face again for what was probably the 15th time, feeling like the blood was still on you.

You didn’t even hear the door, didn’t hear him walk up behind you, didn’t notice he was there until his hands were on your hips.

You gasped, turning with your fist, ready to make a collision; but Thanos was quicker than you this time, catching your wrist before you could seal the hit.

“Whoa.” He said, “Relax, girl.”

“What are you doing in here?” You yelled at him. He shushed you, making a tcht tcht tcht sound.

“You embarrassed me out there.” He said, tilting his head to show you his bruised eye.

“You? How about you yanking me to my feet in a room full of people?”

He says nothing, but he smirks at you.

“You’re just so pretty. How am I supposed to sit back and watch my girl flirt with other men?”

You sigh, rolling your eyes. “Is that what you think I am?”

“It’s what I know you are.” He says lowly, his hand resting against your throat. “You’re mine.”

“I’m not yours. You don’t ask, you just take from people. You’re a bully.”

“What are we, kids on a school yard? I’m a bully?” He steps closer than he already was, pressing himself into you.

“Yes.” You whisper out.

“Quiet now, aren’t we?” He teases, his voice low.

“If you’re gonna kill me, just fucking do it.” You say.

He laughs loudly, “Kill you? Get serious, girl.”

“Then what do you want?”

“You.”

You say nothing. Your hands are pressed against the counter top of the sink, and his body is pressed against yours. Chest to chest, you have nowhere to go.

“Move.” You say. Your eyes are locked, and you feel like prey being tortured by predator. Tortured in the way he’s doing nothing, just staring you down. He doesn’t budge still.

You grab him by his collar, pulling his face inches from yours.

“Move.” You say again, your voice pleading.

He notices. You’re not pleading him to move because of fear, you’re pleading for him to move because of lust.

His fingers trail up your arm, then trace your jaw to pull your chin up. He laces his fingers through your hair, pulling you so that your lips are on his.

He didn’t expect you to kiss him the way you did, it took him by such surprise, which he dared never admit because he was almost never surprised. But the way you grabbed his collar, trying to pull him so deep into you that you both might collapse into each other like stars.

“Where’d this come from?” He asks breathlessly, barely able to break away from you to get the question out.

“Can you just shut up?” You say quickly, pulling him back into you.

“As my queen commands.” He says, matching your ferocity with the kiss.

Both of his hands rest on your cheeks while he kisses you, but you take one and slowly push it down to your sweats.

“Why so eager?” He asks, breathlessly.

“You’re talking too much.” You say, pushing him off you. “Get on your knees.”

He scoffs, shocked. “Are you serious?”

You nod, and so he listens. He kisses down your body, tugging on your sweats when he’s on his knees. He kisses your thighs, mumbling sweet nothings about your body that were too soft to hear.

“Thanos-“

“Su Bong.” He corrects you, needing to hear you moan his real name.

“Su Bong, please don’t tease me.” You whine, so he concedes. Lifting up your leg onto his shoulder so he can kiss and lick and suck every part of you. You whine, pulling his purple tufts of hair.

“You are so sweet,” He whispers. “Sweet like candy.”

“Oh, my boy.” You moan, egging him on. His nails grip into your thighs unintentionally. He’s just so desperate for you, desperate to taste every drop.

Your nails dig into his forearm, scratching for release.

“Please, oh, please, Su Bong.”

He looks up at you, pupils dilated like the size of black holes. You throw your head back, grinding your hips into his mouth, chasing your release.

You pull his hair harshly, and he digs his nails into your thighs even more as you release. You cry out, repeating his name like a prayer, and he moans into you, fueling your release. He doesn’t miss a drop.

He comes off you, breathless. He sets your leg down, pulling your sweats back up as he stands.

You stare at each other, both of you panting in silence for a few moments. You sneak your hand down, resting it against his hard crotch. You smirk a little, and he mirrors it.

“I think I love you.” He moans as you rub him.

“I think you’re high.” You respond, and he laughs and nods. He leans down to kiss you again, gentler this time.

“Do you want one?” He asks, nodding to his necklace. You hesitate, but end up shaking your head no.

“I think we should head back.” You whisper, still rubbing him. He shakes his head no, moaning into your neck. He grips your jacket in desperate agony.

“I need you so bad.” He finally admits.

“Fine.” You fold, and he’s ever so quick to pull your sweats back down. He unhooks one of your legs from the pants, pulling it up so he can rest it around his hips as he pushes his sweats down just slightly so he can insert himself into you.

So, there you both are. Standing with one leg hooked around him and absolutely gripping the sink as he thrusts into you relentlessly. You don’t even try to hide your moans, throwing your head back in euphoria as Thanos buries his face in your neck with shameful whimpers. You grip onto whatever part of him you can for support. Your back is slamming into the edge of the sink over and over, surely leaving a bruise on your tailbone.

He kisses and sucks on your neck, leaving dark bruised purple hickeys on every inch. Marking you, so that you knew who you belong to and so that everyone else out there knew too.

His thrusts were relentless, and the angle he fucked you was crucial, hitting into your cervix each time. Your hands pushed on his hips, resisting his movements slightly, which only fueled him more.

“Stop it.” He moans.

“You stop, you’re being so rough.” You whimper.

“This is me being gentle,” He says. “You want something less than this, then I better not ever catch you speaking to another man again.”

You moan in defeated acceptance, grasping at his shoulders instead for balance. His perfect thrusts make you leak all over him, his pants soaked with your juices.

“You’re so wet.” He moans. “I think you’re gonna make me cum.”

You tighten around him, sending him into a frenzy. His hands tighten their hold on your thighs, and you yank him by the collar to pull his lips onto yours.

“Fuck, I’m cumming, oh please.” You beg him, between kisses.

“I’ve got you.” He manages to get out, holding you as you let out the most heavenly cry. Your moans send him over, and he pulls out to spill himself all over your cunt.

He smears it on your folds with his hands, and you smack his chest, giving him a push off you while he laughs at your irritability.

“You’re such a dick.” You say, wiping yourself with a paper towel from the dispenser. He kisses your neck with a smirk.

“Come lay with me when you’re done.” He says, walking out of the bathroom.

You roll your eyes, cleaning yourself up before walking out.

You re enter the bunks, searching the room for his bed. He’s in a lower ish one, laying down with hands resting behind his head and his eyes blissfully closed. Your eyes move back and forth between his bed and your empty one, until your feet start moving before your mind can even decide.

He doesn’t even open his eyes when you crawl in beside him. He just wraps his arm around you, kissing your temple as you both drift off to sleep,

both of you blissfully unaware of the horrors of tomorrow’s game…

Part 2?

#choi su bong #choi seung hyun #t.o.p #t.o.p bigbang #thanos squid game #thanos smut #thanos #squid game #squid game thanos #thanos x reader #nam gyu #gi hun squid game #squid games

514 notes · View notes

ifwdominicfike · 5 months ago

Text

you embarrassed dilf!matt with your whining when out christmas shopping with him and now he has plans for when you two get home..

── .✦. ──

“when can we go home, m’feet hurtttt” is what matt has heard maybe over 50 times in the past hour, to be fair — he did warn you about the extensive amount of time he would be out searching for gifts but you didn’t think he would take this long. your feet were killing you, you guess wearing your mary janes wasn’t the brightest idea to have.

“sweet girl please, just another 30 minutes and we’ll be on our way out okay?” matt said, trying his best not to let any annoyance slip in between those words. “b-but you said that 30 minutes ago!!” you grumble and slump into him like a toddler, which wouldn’t have been a problem if it was just you and matt alone since he’s now used to your bratty behavior but there was a few more than a couple of people around who gave you odd looks.

“my love- cut it out, people are staring.” his tone now stern and assertive, which makes you stand up straight and look behind you to find the amount of judgmental looks you had gotten.

your face now a bright shade of red as you begin to hide your in his neck, breathing in the small hints of mahogany and vanilla — which somewhat calms your nerves. you two finally leave the mall and are on your way home, you’re now sitting with your hands in your lap and matt is gripping onto the wheel which makes you clench your thighs and your mind begin to wander. all of that is interrupted when you hear matt speak up.

“can’t believe you, embarrassing me acting like a whiny little brat. couldn’t even wait 30 more minutes, you’re in for it when we get home.” he says not even glancing over at you, you’re heart starts to race at the possible ways tonight could go but that only makes a familiar wet patch start to form in your lacy panties.

he looks over to see you in you’re own world fantasizing about later tonight but that doesn’t last long.

“y’hear me? what are you smiling about over there?” the car abruptly stops at the red light and he grips onto your chin so your now face to face with him. “c’mon doll, tell me. or ya’ too shy to?” he laughs before letting go of your face. “y’really think m’gonna give you what you want huh?” he laughs once more before driving again when the light turns green.

thats when you knew you were really in for it tonight.

- avery’s note ˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡-

AVERY RELEASING 2 FICS IN ONE DAY??? guys be proud of me im not even sure where this is coming from and im PRAYING this energy stays for a little bit 😭

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - @ellaapsworld @chrissv4mp @jetaimevous @mattsbrowser @submattenthusiast @flouvela @sturniolosiphone @chrislova @sophand4n4 @mattsfavoritestar @mattslolita @y3sterdaysproblem @strnilolover @cayleeuhithinknott @cherrynflowergarden @sturnsmia @slut4chris888 @marrykisskilled @chaossturns

#— ⋆ ˚｡ writings .ᐟ ꩜#dilf!matt au ʚଓ #brat!reader ⋆. 𐙚 ˚#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo blurb #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo x reader

614 notes · View notes

lvlybin · 2 months ago

Note

If you have time OT9 on marking you up? The thought of letting people know you are theirs kinda killing me >< if you have time and willing to write of course ^^

cw kissing, neck kissing, marking, hickies, biting, mentions of sex, mentions of oral sex (f!receiving), lowkey a breeding kink in Hanbin's part, Binnie's a little drunk in his part, jealousy & reassurance :) 18+ MDNI

✉️ hi my love! sorry it took me so long to respond to this :( exams have been CRAZY for me... anyways, I just did legal line with this, but I hope you enjoy!

ㅤ ⎯⎯ㅤ 𝓙iwoong ﹙𝓴.﹚

It was one of those nights when Jiwoong had invited you to a work party with him. Any evening spent with him was perfect, especially when he would show you off. Jiwoong always made you feel so treasured and loved, all while he worshiped the ground you walked on. And the way he’d introduced you to his team members that night with a huge smile on his face only proved that further. It was nice meeting Jiwoong’s colleagues; like you were being shown another glimpse of his everyday, more intimate life. You were shown a glimpse of something else, too.

After returning home from the party, you’d been quick to head to the en-suite bathroom of your shared room to remove your makeup and get ready for bed. Jiwoong followed closely behind you, you still in your formal dress and him still in his suit as you began to take care of your skin. “I didn’t realize how long these events could go on for,” you hum, still high off the feeling of the amazing evening. Your eyes meet Jiwoong’s in the mirror. They’re a shade darker than usual, his pupils dilated as he consumes the image of you getting ready for bed. What truly sends a wave of warmth through you, though, is the smile that doesn’t quite meet his eyes.

“They usually don’t,” Jiwoong comments as he moves closer to you. “Everyone just wanted to talk to you, though, didn’t they…” His hands run over your sides before settling on your waist. The touch leaves a tingling sensation in their wake, just like always, but you do your best to continue removing your makeup. Jiwoong’s hands tighten around your middle. “Can’t blame them, though. This dress looks beautiful on you.”

A small gasp leaves you as his lips lower to the skin of your neck, and subconsciously, you tilt your head back to give him more access. The kisses are warm, lulling you into a familiar state of comfort and beginning sparks of pleasure. Jiwoong’s usually gentle in soft, quiet moments like these. Even with the underlying tension beginning to grow akin to the pleasure heating in your veins. His mouth works to suck gently at all of the sensitive spots he’s mapped out on your body, causing your body to tremble in his arms from the combination of pleasure and the way his tongue licks over your skin before he moves on.

By the time he pulls away, you can barely keep your eyes open. Your brain already feels a bit fuzzy from the intense amount of attention, and your panties are thoroughly soaked. Jiwoong smirks a little as he trails his thumb over the string of hickies he’s left on you: a blossoming red that would later darken to purple. You’d be lucky if he let you cover them up. “Should’ve done that before we left.”

ㅤ ⎯⎯ㅤ 𝓗ao ﹙𝔃.﹚

“You’re no fun,” Hao whispers to you, his body pressed closely to yours as the darkness of this random storage closet prevents you from fully seeing him.

“And you’re acting like a child,” you retort quietly as your eyes adjust. His freshly dyed pink hair is still noticeable even in this dim lighting and is fluffy as always, while his full lips press into a pout. The entire group was excited for this comeback, you included, and performing the tracks at music shows was a highlight for all of you, especially your boyfriend, who put his entire being into giving the fans his best. At least, it was supposed to be fun for him until another male idol got a little too close and a little too friendly to you for his liking. Now, here you were, pinned between Hao and the wall with only a few minutes before your group was due on stage. “You’re going to get us in trouble–”

“You already are in trouble.” You resist the urge to roll your eyes at his words, opting to reach up to place your hands on his shoulders. “Come on, YNie, reassure your boyfriend.”

Hao had everyone wrapped around his finger, and he knew it. Knew that he wouldn’t get in trouble for being a little late, wouldn’t be in trouble with you for letting his jealousy get the best of him, wouldn’t get in trouble as his lips find your neck. Your grip on his shoulders tightens as your body presses closer to his at the sudden stimulation, and in turn, his hands grip your waist, ruffling whatever stupid skirt and accessories the stylist had put on you that day.

“I’ll do it myself then,” Hao mumbles against your skin, the feeling of his breath causing you to shudder. The feeling of him smirking against your neck? That has wetness pooling in your panties. You don’t have any time to protest as Hao busies himself with marking you. His teeth graze against your neck teasingly, reminding you of the way they would play with your clit when his mouth was on another part of your body, and his fingers dig further into your hips to hold you in place. A small whimper leaves you as he bites down a bit harder on an extra-sensitive spot, making you squirm in his grip.

“Let me finish,” Hao breathes against your skin, the scent of his hair overwhelming your nose as he sucks harshly at your neck. “Want him to know you’re mine. Want everyone to know…” Finally, he pulls away, one of his hands leaving your trembling body to fish his phone out of his back pocket. The brightness of the flashlight feature has you blinking quickly, unprepared for the sudden change of lighting. But you can see the way Hao’s pupils dilate as his fingers find your chin and force you to tilt your head. The only sounds in the storage closet is your and Hao’s heavy breathing as he assesses the marks he’s left.

When he’s satisfied with his work, the light turns off. Instead, the natural lighting from the door being opened floods the closet. “If the makeup artist tries to cover them up, tell her no.”

ㅤ ⎯⎯ㅤ 𝓗anbin ﹙𝓼.﹚

The sounds of Hanbin’s giggles meet your ears as he rolls over with you on the bed again. You weren’t sure what had caused this burst of energy from him, but it was definitely too late in the day for it. It was probably the alcohol he’d had at dinner with you. Your boyfriend was tipsy. He laughs again as your head hits the pillow, a small huff leaving you. “You’re so cute,” Hanbin mumbles, the tone of his voice making it sound like he’s in awe.

You would return the compliment if you weren’t so tired and he was the only thing standing between you and sleep. “I’m tired,” you correct. Hanbin grumbles something as he buries his face in your neck. His arms are wrapped tightly around your body, pinning your arms to your sides. “And you’re going to be too when you sober up a little.”

“M’not drunk,” he protests, voice muffled by your skin. The tickling sensation has you squirming under him. And it certainly doesn’t go unnoticed by him, and you can feel his body tense a little. “I’ll prove it…” The determination in his voice has every bit of sleepiness leaving you, the familiar sensation of arousal beginning to course through your bloodstream.

Still, you sigh, knowing Hanbin shouldn’t be doing anything like this with you while he’s under the influence. “We should sleep, Bin.” He shushes you, nose running along the curve of your neck as he breathes your scent in. When his eyes flutter shut and a small whine escapes him, you know he’s gone.

“How am I supposed to sleep with you underneath me?” Then, his lips find your neck.

Hanbin’s such a tease, barely making contact with your neck before biting down a little, making you twist in his hold. Teasing in the way he would chuckle every time some kind of noise would escape your throat and with the way he purposely would brush over the sensitive spots on your neck, neglecting them. He scatters love bites all along the column of your throat, a sense of satisfaction calming his tipsy mind at the sight of you bearing his marks. If he had it his way, you’d be marked in a different way (your stomach round with his child), but now’s not the time for that. Instead, he continues running his tongue over your skin, sucking hard enough for your skin to bloom with color. When he finally pulls away, he has a dazed look in his eyes that you’re sure matches your expression. “See? M’drunk– M’not drunk enough to forget that you’re most sensitive.” He pauses to press a fleeting kiss to your neck, “Spot is here.”

ㅤ ⎯⎯ㅤ 𝓜atthew ﹙𝓼.﹚

Matthew was always busy, always moving, so it was normal for him to have a bit too much energy when he’s been lying with you for a significant amount of time. His hands grip your sides just a bit tighter every now and then, like he’s trying to calm himself down. It’d been a lazy day for the two of you, just lounging around your apartment and enjoying each other’s company. Now, cuddled up on the couch, it was clear Matthew wanted something. And by the way his eyes kept darting to your neck, you had a feeling you knew what it was.

“Matt?” He hums when you say his name. “What’s wrong?” His body shifts against yours as his warm brown eyes meet yours.

“Nothing. Just want to keep cuddling.” Right. You resist the urge to roll your eyes at the cheeky smile that grows on his face. “Whattt?”

“You keep looking at my neck.” His smile somehow gets bigger.

“I just think it looks empty.” And a few moments later, he had you underneath him as his mouth worked at your neck. Small kisses had been peppered along your skin at first before Matthew bit down against your neck. The feeling of his teeth harshly marking your skin has you crying out, his hands wrapping around your wrists to pin them against the couch cushion. Matthew wasn’t exactly always thorough when marking you, but he definitely left enough marks to get the point across. His need to mark you up came sparingly, but the sessions would always leave you needy and ready for more.

This time though, he was practically biting your neck, following the feeling of his teeth with harsh sucks, like he wanted the marks to appear right away and be dark just as fast. “Matt…” you breathe, legs wrapping around his middle as he continues sucking your neck. His lips trail down to where your collarbones are exposed because of the loose t-shirt you’re wearing. At this spot, the sensation of his teeth grazing against your skin is heightened, and it has you whining and arching your body up to his.

His grip on your wrists tightens. “Stay still.”

You never thought leaving hickies could be rough, but here you were–Matthew biting down against your skin to make his marks on you as deep as possible. It's probably so they would show longer. Because as much as he loved to mark you up, he knew how sensitive you could get if he was doing it every night. A particularly harsh bite has you yelping. Matthew pulls away instantly, eyes searching your face in concern. “You okay?” You don’t respond for a moment, eyes half lidded. Then, something clicks in Matthew’s mind. “Aw, you like it when I’m rough, don’t you?”

ㅤ ⎯⎯ㅤ 𝓣aerae ﹙𝓴.﹚ㅤ

It was rare for Taerae to get jealous. It was something you adored about your relationship: you both felt confident in each other and knew that the other would never do anything to hurt you. That couldn’t be said about those surrounding you, though.

Sat silently in the passenger's seat of Taerae’s car, you watch as his knuckles tighten around the wheel. Seeing one of the workers at the coffee shop flirt with you wasn’t the way he wanted to end his day, especially when the other man just didn’t seem to pick up on any of the hints you were dropping that you were very much already taken.

“It’s not your fault,” Taerae says softly when he sees you glance over at him for the hundredth time. “I’m not mad at you.”

“I know,” you sigh. You were honestly probably as annoyed as he was. “I really thought saying outright that you were my boyfriend would make things clear.” Taerae can’t help but smile a little at your words as he turns the car into the parking lot of your apartment complex. He keeps the car running as he puts the car in park before looking over to you.

“I can think of a few ways to fix that.”

Taerae maneuvers you to straddle him in the driver’s seat, his hand finding your hips as his lips trail firmly up your neck. A soft kiss is placed on your jaw, then your lips, before he returns to your neck. He has his unmistakable confidence in his movements as he sucks marks onto your skin, his tongue running over your skin in a way that has you squirming on his lap. Taerae focuses on one spot, one that’s visible, one that’s particularly sensitive for you, to leave the largest mark.

He uses the size of his mouth to his advantage, not wanting anyone to miss the fact that you’ve so clearly been marked. That you’re his.

A few more marks are scattered across the column of your throat, but the hickey he’d spent most of his attention on is impossible for Taerae to pull his eyes away from. “There we go… Nothing to worry about now.” There’s a warmth that’s settled in your belly, and it’s only one that Taerae can fulfill. It has you both rushing out of your car and back up to your apartment, not caring about the strange looks you get from the other people in the lobby.

ㅤ ⎯⎯ㅤ 𝓡icky ﹙𝓼.﹚ㅤ

You loved kissing Ricky. How soft and comforting it was, especially when you were cuddled up in his bed. The atmosphere was the epitome of calm, his scent wrapping around you in the same way his arms were, the warmth of the blankets making you limp and drowsy. His mouth captures yours in an almost tender way. For a moment, it’s just your lips pressing against his before his tongue runs along the seam of your lips, requesting entrance. When you part your lips, Ricky takes his time to deepen the kiss.

His tongue slides against yours slowly before he pulls back just enough to break the kiss, his nose brushing against yours. He can’t help but get a little shy at the way you look at him before leaning in to kiss him again. The movements are slow, like the sleepiness the two of you are feeling, but are full of love. When Ricky abruptly separates your lips, you feel a bit confused.

“Can I, um… kiss your neck?” The urge to coo over how cute he’s being is hard to resist.

“Kiss my neck? You don’t have to ask to do that.” By the way Ricky avoids your eyes for a moment, you can tell that he’s hesitating to tell you something. “What do you want, Ricky?”

“Want to give you hickies,” he mumbles, and the shy admission makes you feel warm. “Please.”

You giggle softly as you nod, “Knock yourself out.”

Ricky tucks his face in your neck, his kisses light and barely there, feeling like butterfly wings. And then, when he finally begins sucking on your skin, the gentle pressure is enough to have that warmth you were feeling pooling in your belly. His hands aren’t harsh as he holds you, more loving, like he’s reassuring himself that you’re there and this is real. You whimper softly when his lips find a particularly sensitive spot.

“There?” he asks breathlessly, and you can only let out a small hum in response. It doesn’t take him long to go back to marking you up, gentle as always with how he handles you. Ricky’s always careful with you, and the small marks he leaves on your neck show that. None of them are too large or too deep, just enough to be visible. Ricky didn’t like drawing attention to the two of you, wanting to keep you to himself, so the marks he leaves on you are there for just yours and his eyes.

He pulls away, settling back into bed. “Wanna do me now?”

ㅤ ⎯⎯ㅤ 𝓖yuvin ﹙𝓴.﹚

When Gyuvin got jealous, he wouldn’t get angry or possessive like some of the other guys you’ve been with. Instead, he gets pouty. And part of you feels sad at the sight, but the other part of you can’t help but find it adorable. Gyuvin’s arms wrap tightly around your middle, and he rests his chin on your shoulder as you waddle around the kitchen with him. As you’re filling up your water bottle, your boyfriend finally speaks up, “You love me, right?”

Your heart breaks a little at his question. “I love you more than anyone,” you say softly to him, turning your head so his fluffy hair presses against your cheek. “You’re everything I need. Don’t even know what that other guy was thinking when I was literally clinging to you.” You feel Gyuvin’s pout turn into a smile against your shoulder. “Don’t be sad, ‘kay? I love you.”

“I love you too,” Gyuvin sighs, and you can feel all of the tension leave his body as he holds onto you. You finish filling your water bottle up and the two of you head back to your bedroom. Gyuvin climbs into bed first before opening his arms for you. You place your water bottle on the bedside table and practically fall into his arms, only to be met with several kisses on the top of your head.

“You know what would make you feel even better?” you ask him, looking up at his wide, brown eyes. “Wanna mark up my neck?”

A light blush covers his cheeks as a sly smile spreads on his lips. “Really?” The excited tone of his voice has you laughing as you nod. Gyuvin’s grin gets bigger as his large hands hold onto your hips, rolling over so you’re underneath him. “God, I love you…” he trails off as his lips meet where your neck meets your shoulder.

His touches are eager and loving. His kisses trail up your neck before Gyuvin settles on a spot to leave the first hickey. Strong arms encircle your waist, holding you tightly against him as he sucks on your neck, like he’s afraid you’re going to disappear. Reassuringly, your arms wrap around his shoulders as Gyuvin continues leaving marks on your skin. The idea of marking up your body has any insecurity or sadness fading from Gyuvin’s mind instantly, knowing that you’re so willing to let him have you like this enough to reassure him.

Slowly, his lips travel back down your neck, pecking each of the marks he’d left before he continues traveling down your body. “Need to kiss one more place before I fully feel better,” he whispers against your shirt as his fingers hook in the waistband of your pajama pants.

ㅤ ⎯⎯ㅤ 𝓖unwook ﹙𝓹.﹚

Gunwook’s extra tired when he arrives at your apartment tonight. His feet drag as he follows you around your apartment while you prepare for bed, his eyes drooping. But he refuses to go to sleep without you. You feel bad at the way he’s almost in a daze as you make sure the door and windows to your apartment are locked, with the way he clings to you as you go through your nighttime routine, and with the way he flops down in your bed the moment you finish your skincare.

“Let me hold you,” he mumbles, his voice soft yet rough at the same time. And who are you to deny that? You turn off the majority of the lights in your bedroom, leaving the bedside table lamp on to cast a dim, warm glow around the room. Then, you climb into Gunwook’s arms.

“You’ve been so sleepy recently,” you say gently, one of your hands going up to run your fingers through his hair in a soothing manner. “Feeling relaxed?” Gunwook hums as he tucks his face into your neck. His soft breathing against your skin is enough to make you feel as sleepy as him too.

The two of you are quick to fall into the purest state of lovers: vulnerable and completely at ease with each other, your bodies melding together. Instead of feeling turned on when he begins to kiss your neck like you usually do, the sensation just makes you soften even more between his warm body and the bed. Gunwook’s kisses are sloppy against your neck, like he’s too desperate for just even a taste of you, as he sucks on your skin. He doesn’t use his teeth on you, just his tongue presses against the column of your neck as he enjoys your taste. Gunwook’s mind barely registers that he’s leaving several marks on you, just that you’re here in his arms. And all he wants to do when you’re in his arms is love on you.

“Taste so good,” Gunwook mumbles tiredly, his hands kneading against your waist.

Your hands trail up to his hair, tangling comfortingly in the strands again. “You’re probably eating my lotion.” Gunwook chuckles, and you squirm at how it tickles.

“Don’t care. Get to kiss you, that’s all that matters.” You hum at his words, hands moving from his hair and down his back. “Feel very relaxed now.” “Yeah? Me too,” you agree, body lax in his arms. His weight settles on you a bit heavier as he looks at your neck. “Looks good?” Gunwook presses one more peck to your skin before he cuddles back into you, his eyes falling shut. “Looks perfect.”

365 notes · View notes

sky-forts-and-burning-citadels · 4 months ago

Text

A devotee shan't rest until they've worshipped their deity for a lifetime.

Summary: Sol gets sick of waiting.

Warnings: Non-con, straight up porn, religious references, photograph abuse.

Word Count: 3K

A/N: This is straight up somnophilia AKA es'SA'y. Don't let this be normalised.

P.S.: Also reposted from the AO3, check it out! All the longer works are there.

The room was pitch black, so heavily ensnared in the gaping shade of the darkened night that even shadows disappeared under its tarlike veil. Any ordinary, random burglar would be blindly stumbling about like an idiot, if they happened upon your apartment with…impure intentions.

Sol wasn’t a burglar, and he was definitely not ordinary. He wasn’t a mindless passerby on the streets, with a forgettable face and unassuming nature. Sure, he acted the part well, played the weak-minded shy kid well. But that act, that mask? It’s for the faces that litter his vision, that plague his sight and try to distract him from his goal, his mission, his messiah.

Faces that exist as a way to try and deter him from his forever, from his life and his bride, from his venerant Annabel Lee.

You.

He’s saving his true, adaptable, self for you. He’s willing to morph into anyone for you, alter himself, hurt himself if you so merely asked!

You could ask him to kill for you and he wouldn’t even blink until said soul was eviscerated; and their body exsanguinated and dumped in an outskirt lake.

He was the only one for you, your only soulmate, your only lover, your only.

So why did you always neglect him? Ignore him; spend time with him as a last resort, all in favour of that insignificant bastard-born slug?!

What did he have that Sol didn’t? Hmm?

The queries began to flood his mind, onslaught his body. He barked out a laugh, a cold, brisk sound that reverberated across the walls, before cruelly biting the skin of his knuckles.

Hush, can’t have you wake up now darling, not when you’re so serene and at ease.

He didn’t want to do anything bad to you, of course not, he loves you…! But even the best of lovers need to be taught a lesson…or seven.

Boots softly thud against your floor, their path marked by years of memory and intuition, and like normal, he makes his way to your bedside.

Sol might not be able to see you, but he doesn’t need to. He already knows how you sleep, he remembers the precise dosage of medication he needs to do this…he’s all set…

Yet the longer he stands there, the more time ticks by him, gently ageing you both second by second closer to a fated death, he was struck by an epiphany:

Why the fuck should he settle for this? He’s been in the darkness long enough.

The kid at the back.

The afterthought.

The forgotten face of the world.

If Jericho Ichabod gets to see you…then so shall fucking he.

In a bout of ornery, he ditched his boots and marched into the lightless expanse of your lounge. He knew you had a torch hidden somewhere, might as well finally make use of it.

Like he will of you.

Most people would’ve already ditched or aimlessly clambered around; but Sol wasn’t most people. He knew your residence inside out, all of them.Each place, grandiose or minimalistic, apartment or house. No matter where you go, he’s always watching, tonight’s just a little more…intimate, a touch closer than his usual escapades.

His hand softly searched the drawers, each soft click sent a thrilling chill down his spine, his body shuddered as he tactfully manoeuvred his way about the room. His fingers casually map each surface, fondling for anything remotely cylindrical…until, after what felt like millenia, he finds it. How lucky.

A lava lamp. Bright enough to see you, dim enough to not awaken you; and look at that…it’s red, like his eyes, like his lips…like his cock.

Were you thinking of me, beloved?

With methodical steps, silent as the grave, he strode back to you, placed the lamp in the closet door…and by God’s holy grail was he once more rendered stunned.

The soft crimson rays paint your frame in a way he prayed to one day replicate, with his own blood, perhaps? Paint wouldn’t be enough to perfectly capture your divine essence.

Your lips look so fucking good.

He wanted to have you so damn badly it hurt.

And he would’ve…until something crossed his peripherals.

A small photo, about the size of his palm, lay tucked away on your bedside drawer.

To say Sol was intrigued by this was an understatement, and his bubbling wonder continued to froth as he took in the details of this quaint square and halted.

All intrigue turned to rage, white and hot like his flesh and it pelted his mind like hail on an abandoned car; before an idea, comical as it was repulsive, crept into the depraved depths of his mind.

What better way to avenge himself than make the whore see? See how much better he is, both in appearance and in bed?

A lifeless grin moulded into his face, Sol positioned the photo to ensure it stared right at him; The slug isn’t worthy of seeing the pretty things you’ll do; he thought.

He bored his eyes into ones of disgusting cobalt, before turning down to the grandest feast of his life.

Slender fingers, corpse-like in colour, caressed your face, measuring once more the map that is your body, his eyes hungrily raking over your sleeping form.

Against his better judgement, he lowers his head and drags his tongue, languid and unhurried, across your neck, his teeth softly rubbing across your zen pulse.

He swiftly rose up, his face burning and his breaths stuttering; all the while his cock — like the night before, and the one before that — began to fucking ache, straining horribly against his pants, almost begging to be allowed freedom from its constant confines.

The urge to tear off your clothes and piston himself so deep inside you that your body would refuse any other dick was so tempting. The mere thought made a small wet spot appear, yet Sol would take his time, after all, this was merely you making up for teasing him, right?

Fuck it.

In one swift motion, he’s at your side, his nose buried in the crook of your neck as his hand casually dived under your shirt, worming its way towards the mounds that lay atop your angelic heart; but you couldn’t possibly blame him, they’re so malleable and beautiful; just like you!

He inhaled sharply, before closing his eyes and stifling a pathetic whimper.

You smell so fucking good.

His whole body was like a bomb, ticking away until either his time runs out and he leaves to care for himself elsewhere, or until he allows himself to… indulge.

If Ichabod got to revel in your presence, then so shall he.

“Mhh??”

Shit.

He froze, his body arched over you, his hoodie half off, exposing his burnt abdomen, carmine circles and purple dots peppering him like seasoning.

Ahh…you told me I was beautiful in your eyes once…but I won’t risk you rejecting me from these, darling.

Another reason why he loved you oh-so much. You’re so pristine, so pure, so perfect that it stung. He didn’t deserve you, he wasn’t remotely close to reaching the bar of whom someone like you should have; but he didn’t care anymore. You were here, beneath him.

And he was going to have you if it’s the last thing he ever does.

Soon enough, his mouth returned to your pulse, suckling on the throbbing flesh and his teeth cautiously caging the arteries, until a mark — angry red like the burns that paint his skin — started to blossom.

His hand inched up your breast, the pads of his chilled fingers encircled your areolas, the nips hardened and prodded at him, begging to be pleasurably satiated — and satiate he inevitably would.

He swiftly moved to straddling you, this time in entirety, careful to avoid putting too much pressure on your torso. When you’re lying so prettily before him it was almost too easy to forget how much bigger than you he was, how small and dainty and delicate you were compared to him.

Using his other hand to lift your nightshirt to your collarbones, Sol redirected himself fully to your breasts, his teeth grazing over the buds before rapidly digging them into the warm fat, his nails clawing at your sides like they were pencils upon a blank canvas and the artist had the eureka of a lifetime.

His face felt torrid, his whole body felt like it’d been set ablaze and he’d barely started.

Look at what you’ve turned me into, but I’m not complaining, how can I?

Sol suddenly wished he was a snake, so he could coil around your body forever, his fangs lodged in either your neck or tits, while his tip would remain buried so deeply within you that you’d forget what it meant to move normally.

But hey, he could still do one of those things. The drugs are significantly stronger this time.

As if to test the waters, he delicately shifted your blouse off of you, tossing it somewhere else on the bed whilst he — perverted as he knew he was — admired your figure, his hands mellowly brushing your arms and kneading your curves, wanting to ingrain this image of you for the rest of his life.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty. How are you so pretty?”

His cock was shrieking now, hell, he was struggling to contain himself. But he could hold off a little longer, right?

No. No I can’t.

His hands weren’t even his anymore, by the time he’d ceased gazing at you, his belt was being yanked out and he was aggressively tugging his pants down, a sharp slap! bouncing off the walls as his dick emerged from its confines, dribbles of translucent white steadily seeped out the shroomy head.

He inched closer to you, deciding to fully ditch his clothes as he tenderly brought your hands into his. He covered them each in kisses, suckled on your fingertips, before guiding them towards his throbbing crotch, your fingers tightly clutched onto it; it’s like you’ve wanted this as much as him!

Shit. Fuck. Fuck you’re so pretty.

Blanketing your fingers with his longer ones, Sol slowly pumped himself into your palm, his whole body almost falling on top of you with how violently he shook at the sheer magnitude of carnal pleasure that coursed through his veins.

A pitiful whine emitted from his tongue as he commenced vigorously propelling himself into your hand, the drastic change in speed and temperament making the sensations nearly overwhelming.

It forced him to hold his weight up over you; like his arm was a pillar to a divine shrine, one that he deems you more than worthy of. But he supposed this is the best way to be close to a god, to worship a god.

Shit, I love you. I love you so much, you don’t know how crazed I get when it comes to you.

Sol turned to the small picture of Ichabod, before looking respectlessly at the view under him, and smirked.

From his nigh-omniscience when it comes to you, Sol knows you’ve never had sex, and he’d be damned if your first would be Crowe.

He continued to piston himself into your palm, contemplating whether he should move on…elsewhere, while he could.

Your hands weren’t gonna be enough, he wanted Ichabod to see him fucking you, making love to you; you didn’t have to be conscious, you’d still love him either way.

Sol relished in the thought, as his thrusts grew erratic and variable, his abs clenching and his arms locking in as he prepared to release, to paint his magnum opus — to paint you white with his cum.

I love you, I love you so much, I want you so much, you’re everything to me IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou.

He moaned, gripped your hand and placed a messy kiss to your lips, using his other appendage to pump faster and faster, until his body physically stuttered into it — until his whole being shattered, and a fountain of his sperm splattered onto your skin, leaving your body glistening under the vermillion light of the lamp.

But Sol wasn’t done this time, for how could he be? He had to make sure nobody got to you before he did.

He kissed you again, his tongue diving into your mouth, exploring the wet cavern, his hand — the one that formerly served as a buttress — coming down to the band of your shorts, his fingers gently prying them down with your panties, and judging by its appearance, it was one of the few he hadn’t touched — how cute. It’s like you wanted him to gather every garment that’s pressed against your core, that felt your slick as you touched yourself.

Gah, the thought of your fingers buried inside you, toying with your clit, playing with your tits.

Anything you do arouses him, but the thought, oh fuck him, the thought of you using yourself whilst thinking of him — like he about you — makes him feral.

Without even thinking, he plunged two digits into your pussy, silently (s)creaming at how smoothly they entered.

Your body knows it’s mine, hahah! Fuck…you’re hot.

Pressing a thumb to your clit and his other hand over your mouth, Sol feels himself going sexdrunk, watching in slick satisfaction the squelches and pretty little Os your hole made around him, trying to crush his bones and slurp them into its warmth, as if it wanted him there forever. Not that he mind, he’d curl up inside you and live as your sentient sex toy if he had his way.

He sighs, his cock turning a brutal shade of red as his eyes observe the beauty that lay within how well cocooned he is inside you, and that’s with his fingers!

Repositioning your wrists so that he could comfortably hold them in one of his own, he redirects his attention to your pussy, thrusting with vehement pleasure into your depths, feeling your wet rapture on his skin, and his pace only increases; like fire on drywood.

The flames of his lust for you, the burning pyre of his love for you, it wasn’t enough in his eyes to see you so shortly each night. It shouldn’t be normal for him, he wanted to take you, to have and hold and love and worship and admire and caress you each day and night, for all his life until both of your ephemeral existences fell by the threads and you both lie in a shared sepulchre next to the sea.

He goes faster, his thumb circling the fleshy nub with affection, a small whimper stirring from your lips.

“Mh…C-crowe?”

Sol ceases, ears alert, eyes widened as he realised whose name you uttered.

Hah. Hahahahah. That motherfucker.

He was gonna go nice and soft on you, gonna be loving to you; but clearly, clearly you needed a little…reminder, of whose thick, fat, juicy cock was inside you.

Removing his sticky fingers, Sol tore apart your thighs, his nails etched so callously in your flesh he barely registered the groan that slipped past your mouth.

Crowe huh? My gorgeous darling, you’re so beautiful but you should know you can’t say such vile things.

He moved his cock with a tenderness towards your gaping entrance, the head brushing against your labia, a waterfall of gasps tumbling out of his mouth as the contact — evasive yet so direct — sent rushes of cold adrenaline down his spine, making him arch himself into you, searching for the closeness he’d wanted for so long.

Cupping your hand in his, he forced himself deep inside you, an onslaught of euphoria surging past any potential despondencies he might’ve had and he slammed his lips onto yours, the slapping of skin and the popping of each entry and exit his cock made out of you left him dazed in the sensual chorus of a symphony built upon ecstasy.

Even in all the times Sol’s touched himself to you, fucked himself into your undergarments or clothes, he’s never thought how immaculately well you fit around him, as if you were the warm, tight nut to his aching, etched bolt.

He was in pain, a beloved pain that came only from first love and lust, his heart screaming as he kissed your lips again and again, squeezing the life out of your hands as he muttered an obsessive, possessive manta:

I love you. I love you. I love you.

He spent so many years waiting in eager anticipation for you to be his — to feel this sick love that he felt for you — like he was yours, and now, now he had you, claimed you. He wished Crowe was here so he could spit down his stupid throat. The idea felt tempting, maybe Hyugo could help him one more time.

But that’s for later, he’s with you now, and nothing is more invaluable to Solivan Brugmansia than you.

He couldn’t cease his gratifying motions, his suppressed moans, or the blitzes of unfiltered joy that rained down his face as he cried; fell apart both bodily and soulfully. His lips fell to your neck again and he marked you, tainted your priceless flesh with his teeth, contaging you with the plague that long since infested his mind.

His thrusts grew sloppier, his body was boiling as he stuttered out a hushed whimper:

Shit, I love you, I’m cumming, I’m cumming, I love you so much-

And with a sharp bite to your shoulder, a callous bracelet of bruises to your wrists, and blood seeping from your swollen lips, Sol came deep within your heat — oceans of his desire-fueled suspension tumbling about inside you, painting you in white, his dove-white passion. For you.

Only you.

Yet as the waves of his lust left him spent and empty, he rose his sweating body above your form, tears running down his pallid face, and cupped your cheek.

He knew he should clean you up before he loses himself once more, but whilst he remained buried within you — his kingdom, filled with the seas of his undying adoration, he turned to the photo of Jericho Ichabod, yanked it off the shelf — and tore it to shreds.

#tkatb #tkatb sol #solivan brugmansia #sol brugmansia #tkatb x reader #tkatb smut

299 notes · View notes

niki-phoria · 3 months ago

Text

'cause i don't wanna be in love with another / even in another life

pairing: arisu ryohei x gn!reader (no pronouns used) genre: fluff word count: 965

notes: need s3 to be released immediately, mandatory apology for my inconsistent posting, uni is killing me, only one bed trope, established relationship, arisu is touch starved a little bit, awkward loser arisu my beloved <33, not proofread !! pls forgive any mistakes, title from the maria's - heavy

the twin sized mattress is far too small for two people - easily evidenced by the cramped way ARISU RYOHEI’S shoulder awkwardly brushes against your own. his entire body feels stiff; he feels more like a corpse than a man when he shuffles slightly, still overly close to you.

the beach is never quiet. even within the confines of a hotel room you had chosen at random, you can vaguely hear the music blasting throughout the hotel. chatter fills the otherwise quiet night. if you’re not careful enough, you can sometimes walk in on a session of drunken sex or a drug deal in progress. neon lights dance across the sky, drowning out the stars that are visible near the eerily empty shopping centers and traffic lights.

arisu freezes when you roll onto your side, moving even close to him in the process. it feels like the entire world shifts when you do. despite all of his effort, you’re impossible to ignore. “arisu,” you whisper. your voice cuts through the darkness, stealing his attention away from the intricate patterns engraved into the ceiling. the man twists just enough to face you, overly conscious of every movement he makes. “are you alright?”

arisu swallows. hard. he sends a silent prayer that the shake in his voice will disappear by the time he quietly murmurs, “i’m fine.”

the butterflies swarming throughout his stomach only seem to increase when you chuckle quietly. you smile softly. sweetly. “you don’t have to be so nervous, you know.” you reach up, gingerly resting a hand against his cheek. arisu’s skin feels hot against your palm as you trace your thumb against his cheekbone. “if you’re not ready to share a bed i can go find somewhere else to sleep. i’m sure kuina wouldn’t mind.”

“no! no- i-” arisu stutters. his face flushes an embarrassingly deep shade of red and his mind races. he desperately tries to remember whatever advice karube had drunkenly told him over rounds of cheap beer and ramen noodles. “please don’t go. i want this.”

there’s a pause. arisu squeezes his eyes shut, waiting for you to say something. an apology lingers on the tip of his tongue, about to escape from his lips when you murmur- “good,” you smile. “i want this, too.”

outside of your window, glass shatters. loud cheers fill the night as the party rages on with no regard for the time of night. arisu has never been a fan of parties, preferring to stand in the corner and watch as karube flirted with anyone who seemed interested or slipping outside under the guise of a “smoke break” with chota for some fresh air.

you don’t seem to mind, however, as you shuffle ever so closer. your hand slips away from his face, leaving goosebumps in its wake. arisu frowns softly at the loss of warmth before you wrap your arm around his waist instead.

beneath the cheap hotel blankets, you further entangle your body with arisu’s. he can’t seem to pull away. or, maybe he doesn’t want to. he hasn’t quite figured it out yet.

but when you curl your body further against him, now leaning your head against his shoulder, he lets out a quiet breath. slowly, the tension in his body begins to slip away. his anxiety lessens with each passing moment until his heartbeat has calmed to a slow, rhythmic beating in his chest.

this time when he turns to face you, your eyes are closed. soft breaths occasionally leave your parted lips. tentatively, arisu brushes a shaky hand through your hair. he tucks a few stray strands behind your ear.

with your features now exposed, he can see the way neon light streaming in despite the closed curtains dances across your cheeks. before arisu knows it, his lips have curled upwards into a soft smile. he lowers his hand until it rests against the curve of your waist, just below your rib cage.

now finally comfortable, arisu allows himself to relax against the pillows. his own eyes flutter shut as the incessant pounding of the dj’s music begins to lull him to sleep. maybe he could get used to this.

if you enjoyed this fic, please consider leaving a like, comment, feedback, or rebloging !! and if you want to support me, check out my aib masterlist <33

305 notes · View notes

somebody-not-from-here · 15 days ago

Text

Snippet of something I started on the bus home from watching Thunderbolts bc hooo boy did I miss Bucky

No spoilers just congressman!Bucky x media assistant!reader

“Well, at least you have a lot of online support.” She posited. “Especially with younger people.“

That piqued his interest. “I didn’t know the younger generations cared about veteran’s rights policies.”

She fiddled with the screen of her laptop, pushing it back and forth on its hinges, contemplating how to phrase her next sentence. “Well, it’s not exactly your policy - though that definitely helps - it’s more. Well, congress is filled with mostly old white men, you know?”

A scoff. “I’m an old white man. I literally fought in world war 2.”

“Yeah but… how do I say this…The other old white congressmen, with good policies, don’t have the added advantage of being the de facto sex symbol of politics, right now.”

Fuck. Worst possible way she could have said it. Proven further by the look of utter confusion and dumbfoundedness on her boss’ face right now.

“The- what?”

“You…” god. Her face was burning. “To put it plainly; you’re a hit with the straight ladies and the gays, uh, sir.”

“They think I’m…attractive.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Why?”

That was a hilarious question to receive - from the man that pays her salary, no less. From the winter soldier, even. And the sheer comical nature of it all was heightened by how genuinely he had asked. Clearly he had never been literally anywhere on the internet, in the last year. How does she even begin to answer, not only something so incredulous, but also (in her non-professional and very much personal unshared opinion) kind of obvious?

“Well,” her eyes couldn’t help but trace his figure. I mean surely he knew he was attractive, right? She could only imagine the amount of girls he would have pulled back when he was just a boy in uniform on his days off from punching nazis and protecting the country. She wasn’t even particularly pro-military, herself, and even she could see the appeal.

Add to that the beard scruff and the hair you could only dream of running your hands through and those eyes and the fucking motorcycle-

“You’re just naturally likeable. It’s attractive.” Is what she settles on, so that she doesn’t sound like a college freshman in heat in front of her fucking boss.

Something makes him hesitate, then. Blue eyes assess her for what feels like forever. And, for a moment, she’s so sure that being blipped all over again would be preferable to the whatever energy that this conversation has brought into the room and has her face turning every shade of red.

Then he smiles, amused. “Naturally likeable.” He actually laughs a bit, and seeing Congressman Barnes laugh feels like something extremely precious and rare. Something she is getting an absolute privilege to see. “There’s very viable claims out there that I could have killed JFK, and you think I’m naturally likeable.”

“You’re mysterious! Dangerous but noble. Intimidating but not an asshole about it,” - and you have a great ass, she holds back, “it’s appealing!”

“ I have a metal arm that could crush a person’s skull with barely any effort.”

“Yeah! It’s hot!”

His eyebrows shoot up and she curses internally. Shit. “Um, that’s what the demographics say, anyway. Sorry. That was just my professional opinion and I spoke out of turn. I’ll just stop now-“

“No, no, please. Continue, sweetheart.” His smile turns ever so sinister and she’s pretty sure she’s going to pass out. “I’d love to hear your unprofessional opinions on why I’m appealing.”

———————————————————————-

Maybe I’ll continue it. I have ideas…

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #congressman barnes #james bucky buchanan barnes #congressman bucky x reader #bucky barns fanfiction

177 notes · View notes

originalwinnerfanfish · 9 months ago

Text

Well, this was a big piece of work, hah

I took a break from RW and decided to draw something nostalgic

Actually I've been stuck with this idea for two years now and I'm glad I finally found the strength to do something about it. Thanks for inspiration from one good man)

Long story short

In this AU autobots and deceptions are two unions of different tribes: mudwings, seawings and sandwings for the firsts and icewings, nightwings, rainwings and Pantala tribes for seconds. Skywings doesn’t exist anymore (because we need someone who takes place of predacons).

People are just people or scavenger if you prefer. And instead of whole cosmos it’s just two mainlands.

- Optimus Prime - I kinda like tfp Optimus. So formidable, powerful and mysterious but really gentle at the same time. And mud/sea combo works here in the best way. As the representation of two main tribes union and strong father/brother figure for team members.

I also think he might be an animus (but don’t use his magic often, especially for killing someone)

- Ultra Magnus - Pure Icewing already will be great for him, but I gave him part of seawing so he could be more like an Optimus. But instead of being softer and warmer, Magnus is more cold and pragmatic version of him. A character who sees other dragons not as close allies and friends but as ordinary soldiers.

- Ratchet - Yeah, the seawing would fit him better, but i just don’t know how to make the colors work here sooo… he’s a weak-fire mudwing. Like a skywing, but mudwing. Why not. Make sense with his lack of guns in origin. I think he’s design can be better, and maybe I’ll remake it.

I love his arc of recognizing people as equals and especially his interactions with Raphael. I think Ratchet often read him scrolls about history and magical artifacts.

- Bulkhead - No surprises here - mudwing fit him perfectly. I think that the Wreckers could been a big and strong mudwing troops, and Bulkhead was a bigwings in such a one. He is lost a lot of his siblings during the war, and therefore tries with all his might to protect the new members of his family. I absolutely adore his relationship with Miko and Jackie, so for me he’s one of the cutest character, and I tried to make his forms round and soft.

- Bumblebee - I know that majority draw him as a hivewing, but in that case the most logical for him will be a night/sandwing. Literally, autobots get their own Sunny)

I think in this version with his lack of a voice he could communicate using sign language or some variation of aquatic.

- Arcee - Also nothing special - she is a seawing. I originally wanted to give her a helmet but it was too hard to draw. Just like Sunny she was born pretty small and now even younger dragons can be bigger than her. I’m pretty sure she is old enough to have seen Bumblebee when he was a dragonet, so she's literally like an older sister to him.

Actually she really gives me a Queen Glory vibes with her sarcasm and dangerous beauty, so rainwing might fit her as well.

- Smokescreen - I used to think he was just a cringe, but now I realize he's a pretty interesting and realistic character. Like Ultra Magnus, I wanted to make him look like Optimus, only this time Smoke is more of a younger and much more irresponsible version of him. I think in this version (being part rainwing) he's trying to mimic Optimus's coloring using same red, blue and pale-gray shades.

- Wheeljack - The scruffy boy! I think in this version he could be Bulkhead's "adopted sibling", so they are really close to each other. And, because he spent most of his life with Bulkhead, it's harder for him to get close to other tribes and dragons.

Painting scales to keep canonical colors is kinda cheating, but for this dude it totally works. He should have a pretty bright appearance with all those scars and bright spots.

Cliffjumper - Ohoh… this poor guy. I didn't even think of putting him here, but I like his smug face too much. Even making his scales darker than the original, it's still too brightly colored for mudwing. He probably jokes about it a lot, saying that his ancestors were skywings.

I really like his dynamic with Arcee, and it's a shame we haven't seen much of their relationship. I think I need to do something cute about that.

#wof #wings of fire #mudwing #seawing #sandwing #tfp #transformers #transformers prime #wof crossover #tf #tf crossover #optimus prime #ultra magnus #bumblebee #arcee #ratchet #tfp smokescreen #cliffjumper #bulkhead

957 notes · View notes

laruezzzz · 20 days ago

Text

~ 𝖘𝖙𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖒𝖊𝖗!𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖎𝖊 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖈𝖆𝖓𝖔𝖓𝖘 [𝖘𝖋𝖜 + 𝖓𝖘𝖋𝖜]

⋆.˚🎧✮˚.⋆🎮 𝔩𝔬𝔤𝔤𝔢𝔡 𝔬𝔫, 𝔩𝔬𝔠𝔨𝔢𝔡 𝔦𝔫, 𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯𝔰

𝖘𝖋𝖜

~ streamer!ellie, who starts every stream with a joke she rehearsed on you first. in the bathroom mirror. with a toothbrush in her mouth. sounding it out like a little kid reading a big word for the first time. it’s always some dumb pun or low-blow jab at a game dev, and every time you laugh- even if it’s fake- she files that sound away under “yes, this’ll totally kill!”

~ streamer!ellie, who tries to act all aloof and too-cool-for-twitch the first time you ever watched one of her streams, only to absolutely spiral when she saw your username notif pop up in chat. "oh- oh shit, that's- uh. babe?" she mumbles into the mic, suddenly forgetting how her own keyboard works. her chat goes feral. you haven’t even typed anything yet, you’re just lurking like a ghost. now every time you stop by, she does a gentle little voice. her voice gets all soft around the edges. it’s a little embarrassing, she knows, but she can’t help it.

~ streamer!ellie, who keeps a little sticky note stuck to the corner of her monitor that says “reminder: NO pet names on stream.” has she ever followed it? nope, not once. the minute you pass behind her cam, even in just socks and your ‘ugly but legal’ hoodie, she short-circuits. “hey babe- SHIT, wait, not babe- uh, you didn’t see that, right chat?” the clip hits twitter in like thirty seconds flat. she can’t ban the people who bring it up fast enough.

~ streamer!ellie, who mods her own minecraft server and only lets her mutuals in, but built a weirdly specific little cottage deep in the forest- moss on the roof, flower boxes, custom textures and everything- and when someone asks “who lives here?” she just shrugs and mumbles, “my girlfriend. obviously.” no one else can open the front door but you. she made sure of that herself, using redstone (yes i know this isn't possible shut up). it took her six hours and several breakdowns.

~ streamer!ellie, who has two camera setups- one for her desk, one for her sketchbook, but ends up never using the second cause she doesn’t like people seeing the way her hands shake when she draws something for you. it’s not nerves. it’s adrenaline. she stays up until 3am getting the shading on a silly chibi of you two kissing in the stardew valley style just right, then shyly posts it in her discord art channel with a “made this for my gf heheh don’t look at it.” everyone looks at it, of course.

~ streamer!ellie, who once did a Q&A and someone asked “how’d you two meet?” and she tried to tell the story but just about halfway through she got sidetracked describing your laugh. "okay wait, sorry—hold on. you know that like, pffft sound? Like a soda can opening but if it was like.. gay? yeah, that’s her laugh! makes me insane." forty-five minutes go by, and she’s still talking about you. no one remembers the original question.

𝖓𝖘𝖋𝖜

~ streamer!ellie, who swears up and down she doesn't get off on the sound of you teasing her while she's live. but, god, when you're sprawled out on the bed just off-camera, mouthing filth at her behind her monitor, she fumbles her controller like it’s greased up. “yeah, i- i meant to drop that grenade. tactical, yknow?” her chat's making fun of her. her pulse is tap-dancing. when she finally ends the stream she’s all over you with her headset still on, dragging your ass under her and exclaiming, “do you think you're funny!?” poor baby, she is so flustered.

~ streamer!ellie, who tries to sext you mid-stream with the literal worst euphemisms imaginable. “my joystick is overheating. might need some cooling from a certain technician 😼” she types under her desk, looking smug like she just wrote shakespeare. afterwards, as she waits for your reply, her face is beet red and she's trying not to laugh at her own stupid innuendo. later, when you're alone, she trips over her own shoes trying to pull her jeans off, muttering, “oh, the technician’s here! time to, uh- fix my…data…hard drive…” you silence her with a kiss before she starts yapping on about RAM.

~ streamer!ellie, who wanted to surprise you by playing a sexy version of her sub goal wheel- except she forgot like half the prompts. so you’re sitting on the bed while she spins it live, and suddenly she’s reading out loud: “uh… okay… it says ‘lick something sweet’- wait, i meant like candy, not- well, okay, now i’m thinking about licking you…” she snorts, wheels the chair back from the cam, and whispers, “you wanna be my dessert after this?” later, she’s got whipped cream on her chin, and you're trying to take her seriously while she deadpans, “this is peak content.”

~ streamer!ellie, who tried to record a freaky audio for your birthday. she thought she’d be all smooth about it- low, raspy voice, moans, the works. but five seconds in, she hiccups, giggles, and drops her phone. “okay, okay- listen, i'm restarting. this time i’m gonna sound like a sex demon, promise.” she does not. she sounds like a total nerd trying her best, getting more turned on by how flustered she is than the script. you end up using the bloopers as foreplay. she’s in your lap, laughing between kisses, voice all breathy as she admits, “i wanted it to be all sexy, not… not... like scooby doo!”

~ streamer!ellie, who swore she was gonna top this time- like, she even practiced her “dom voice” in the mirror in preparation. “you’re mine tonight, got it?” but when it came down to it, all that practiced confidence unraveled the second you called her “ma’am” in a half-joking voice. “don’t do that,” she squeaks, climbing on top of you with all the menace of a nervous puppy, hoodie sleeves falling over her hands. “i will literally combust.” she tries to hold eye contact while riding you, but fails miserably, of course. she keeps biting her lip to stifle the whimpery little sounds she’s making. “fuck, this wasn’t the plan,” she mumbles. “you were supposed to be the one blushing.”

~ streamer!ellie, who gets so turned on watching you play her favourite games that she ends up draped across your lap, making “helpful suggestions” with her hand buried in your panties. "you're aiming a little low- oh, fuck, right there is good, actually." when you raise an eyebrow, she just grins. “it's some tactical distraction, babe! gotta keep the game realistic, no?”

#tlou2 #tlou #ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie the last of us #ellie willams x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader #tlou ellie #ruezzzzheadcanons #sapphic #lesbian #wlw nsft #lesbian nsft #ellie williams smut

161 notes · View notes

deaddovedecadence · 1 year ago

Text

Title: First Meeting (The Sunshine Verse)

Summary: You come face to face with the leader of the Batclan mob

Warning(s): Possesive behavior, scarring, kidnapping

You don’t remember being drugged, you don’t remember losing track of Lyre, you don’t remember going anywhere and yet you’re here, stuck in an unfamiliar room, a chain on your ankle. You’re unsafe, you know this, and there’s nothing you can do about it. The room is clean, not a speck of dust anywhere, and it smells like lemons, not lemon scented cleaner but real, fresh lemons. You hate it. It's not your first time being kidnapped but usually you’re confined to a dark room or messy, dirty basements that make you want to throw up. This is your first time being kidnapped since joining the force (you had a really unique childhood okay) and you can’t help but wonder why you've been taken, if someone thinks you'll have real information for that.

Soft, well muffled sounds start up next to the door but quickly fade to silence. You hate it here, the thick silence, the not knowing where your best friend (brother) is, the chain that rests on your ankle. Speaking of the chain, you haven’t tried to walk yet and you can’t help but be curious. Slowly, carefully,, you get yourself out of bed and walk to one of the doors, letting it creak open. It;s only a bathroom. There’s one other door in the room and you’re pretty sure that you know where it leads. Out of here. You start walking towards that door but the chain stops you before you can get too close. Going back a few steps, you make a few loops in the area that seems safe and attempt to run towards the door. Immediately the chains are pulling you back and you slam to the floor. Well whoever has you certainly isn’t an idiot, which makes your job all that much harder.

Eventually you pull yourself off of the floor and crawl to the bed. As soon as you’ve arranged yourself in a manner that doesn’t hurt too much, you’re asleep.

“Lyre,” you call, listening to the echoing chirps of the birds, trying to ignore the sounds of “lyre, lyre, not lyre,” to themselves, loud as can be. It’s foggy out today, but not so much that you can’t see in front of you. The walk to work is weird without your best friend, but peaceful, even though the birds are chirping loudly, mocking birds calling Lyre’s name. As you’re approaching the police station, you note the crowd of people, how their murmurs grow and change. They’re all saying his name. You get closer and your best friend (brother) is just laying there, spread out on the pavement, his blood staining everything a terrible shade of red. You kneel down, staring at him. Lyre’s eyes are wide open, unseeing and you can’t help closing them. Your hands are red now.

You wake up screaming.

It takes a minute of blind panic for you to calm down and become aware of your surroundings again. You’re in the same room as yesterday and still sore as fuck. The only real change is that there’s a chair in the middle of the room, well more like a throne (you may or may not role your eyes) and a man sitting on the throne. He’s wearing a venetian carnival mask, black with a white bat around each eye. Every gothamite knows it as Sire’s mask.

You’ve been kidnapped by the fucking bats. Shit!

“May I help you?” You ask politely as you can manage. Sire’s mask, cold and porcelain keeps smiling,golden even as the man takes off his fucking mask. You’re going to die, you’re going to fucking die. You look down so you can’t see his face. The man sighs.

“You can look up. I have no plans to kill you. Rather I’d like to thank you. You took care of my son while he wouldn’t allow me to.” Now you’re confused. You chance a look up and meet the eyes of bruce fucking wayne, gotham’s biggest philanthropist. You don’t even know what to say, because the man who’s been credited for saving Gotham is the one keeping it in order as the cruelest man on the east coast. “I don’t understand Mr.Wayne. I don’t know any of your children.”

Bruce Wayne smiles faintly, “Not even Jason?” Every single person born and bred in Gotham knows the tragedy of Jason. It’s said that a mobster went after him and killed him, and in revenge Mr. Wayne swore to oust the mob from Gotham city. Knowing what you know now makes you wonder what really happened. “No offense but I’m pretty sure that Jason is dead.” Wayne laughs bitterly. “We thought so but when your friend Lyre had to go to the hospital,, my doctors found something pretty interesting. A blood match. Would you like to guess who exactly is the match” everything starts to fade out and go dizzy. You were the one that made Lyre go to the hospital because he’s always hated hospitals. “Was it Jason?”

“It was Jason.” Wayne unless his legs, neatly rearranging himself. “I’d like to tell you a story.” You shrug, looking away. “When my son was a child, he lived on the streets. One day I had a meeting in Crime alley and he was crazy enough to try and steal the tires off my car. You can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of you. It’s so much like the Lyre you know that you know, mischievous and carefully reckless, always doing something that he shouldn’t be. What was real? “And when I came back to my car, there was this tiny vicious little boy fighting my guards and fucking winning. I’ve always been fond of stubbornness and there was something about Jason’s desperate desire to survive that stuck me so I brought him home with me. He’s been a member of the family ever since.”

When Wayne talks about Jason, you’re reminded of a Pet owner talking about their best show animal or something. He’s not talking about them like they’re humans but as if they’re prizes to be won. He sounds like a collector, marveling over his trophies. You can’t help but want to upset this man, can’t help but dislike him.

“If he was a member of your family, why did he leave you?” Maybe he’ll hurt you, maybe he’ll kill you but either way you’re going to mouth off for lyre. Wayne’s expression doesn’t even change. “I have six other children,” he explains, “and half of them have anger issues. Do you really think that you’re going to phase me?”

Your logical mind reminds you to be polite, your desire to live tells you to go apeshit. “That doesn’t answer my question,” you snap, ignoring his question all together. He doesn’t even blink. “Jason left because he didn’t agree with our methods. He did not understand the reasons I allowed my youngest to work in the basement at twelve nor did he appreciate our love. “ You’ve heard the stories from Lyre about his family, about the scars he carries from their love. Now that you've met Wayne you can’t help but wonder how many of those scars are physical. There’s a scars on Lyre’s back, tally marks, five of them to be exact. Are those from here? Are his tattoos from here?

“When do I get to see Lyre again?”

Wayne smiles Serenely, and for a moment he doesn’t look like a monster, instead he looks soft, and almost genuine. “When Jason calms down enough to be safe to be around again.” You tilt your head, wonder what he means and carefully do not ask. “Am I stuck in here permanently?” Wayne shakes his head politely. “No you’ll be coming to dinner tonight and Alfred will help you order anything that you might need.” That’s not what you mean. You want to go home. “Can I go home?” “This is your home.” You scoff and bear teeth. “My home is a little apartment by the wharf, not a mansion full of crazy people.”

Wayne’s smile turns sharp, vicious. “I’d like to remind you that your privileges hedge on your good behavior. It’d be very easy to lock you away until you’re feeling more polite.” You get the feeling that wayne isn’t making a threat. He’s making a promise.

#yandere #platonic yandere #yandere writing prompts #yandere platonic #yandere batfamily #batboy tag #yandere batfam #yandere batman #yandere bruce wayne #yandere x reader #the sunshine verse

542 notes · View notes

persevereforahappyending · 5 months ago

Text

A Beacon in the Dark |11|

Pairing: Joey x Reader

Summary: Joey likes helping people, it's what she's best at. Hunting down the monsters of myth and legend might be the best way to save people.

Warnings: Death, Murder, Killing, Kidnapping, Guns, Shooting, Stabbing, Blood, Violence, A LOT of Violence

Word Count: 17.6k

Note: This chapter was always going to be long but turned out MUCH longer than expected. Probably should have tried breaking it up... but oh well!

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

You rolled over with a groan, as soon as you opened your eyes you closed them, bringing a hand to shade them from the bright light. You rolled over again, blinking the spots away as you focused on the cool ground beneath you. You furrowed your brow, tilting your head as you looked at the cold concrete you were apparently laying on, there hadn’t been any concrete in the woods. Your head snapped up, your eyes going wide, the woods. You had been in the woods. Joey. Joey had been with you.

Your heart began beating out of your chest as you frantically looked around, you’d never forgive yourself if you hurt her. You finally looked down at your hands and saw them stained red. You shook your head, there was so much blood. You backed away, as if you could get away from it. When you looked down you saw your entire body was caked in dried blood.

You looked up when you heard a door open. You held your breath until you caught the familiar scent of Grace. You were home, you were in your cage. You remembered giving Joey the device, meaning she used it if Grace found you and got you back here. You had no idea what you did before that though, no idea how long it was before Joey pressed the button, what you did during that time before or after. Your eyes tracked Grace as she walked across the room to your cage before pulling out her phone and unlocking the door. The door swung open, she stood at the entrance, but you didn’t move.

“Did I hurt her?” You rasped out. Your throat was always so dry after changing, especially if you had killed. You couldn’t help the way your eyes filled with tears as you awaited Graces answer.

“No,” Grace whispered. She always spoke so soft after you shifted back, like she was afraid to spook you.

You let out a relived breath. “Who did I hurt?” You might not have hurt Joey, but you clearly killed someone, multiple someone’s from the amount of blood covering you. You knew it wasn’t an animal, you weren’t that lucky, besides, you could smell it.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does!” You roared. You pinched your eyes shut, this was why Grace treated you like this after shifting back, you were always irritable at best. “Who did I hurt?” You looked up, meeting Graces eyes for the first time.

Grace walked up to you; she brought a hand to your cheek, but you pulled away. She gave you a pointed look and when she caressed your cheek again you couldn’t help but lean into the touch. “The witches.” Your tear-filled eyes searched her face, trying to figure out if she was saying what you thought she was saying. “They were the only ones killed.”

You let out a shaky breath and ran a hand through your hair. You didn’t care about the blood, you were already covered in it, you would need a shower anyway. “The girls?” You ask hesitantly, just because you apparently didn’t kill them didn’t mean someone didn’t. You got ambushed by the witches and once you shifted everything was blank, you weren’t sure what happened, if the witches started the ritual before you killed them all or not.

“They escaped.” Your lip twitched, you wanted nothing more than to smile at a successful mission, but you couldn’t. “Were found by a park ranger, who got them help.” You nodded, your eyes drifted down to the concrete, all that mattered was that the girls were safe. “They didn’t see you; they just said a group of women kidnapped them. An investigation is underway, they’ll find the tunnel and the room the girls were kept in, but no bodies.”

You nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for.”

You mindlessly nodded. Every time an incident happened you apologized, and every time afterwards Grace said the same thing. You wondered what it would take for you to need to apologize. You couldn’t control what you did while shifted, you had no memory of your time as a wolf. Despite all that, the guilt never seemed to go away, you never knew what you felt guilty for, you just knew you deserved to feel that way.

“She’s in the living room,” Grace’s soft voice cut through the self-hatred. You froze, you weren’t expecting that, you didn’t know why Joey was still there, she saw you for what you truly were, she should have run back home where she would be safe.

“Why?” You asked, keeping your eyes fixated on the floor. You thought she was warming up to you, but you didn’t think you had developed the kind of loyalty where she would stay. She probably only wanted to get answers, learn the truth, learn why you lied to her, then she’d cut you off, tell you exactly what kind of monster you were. “She probably hates me.”

“I convinced her to stay.” You looked up, meeting Grace with tear filled eyes. “She deserves the truth.” She was right, Joey never deserved you lying to her. Everyone was entitled to their privacy, but your secret could have gotten Joey killed, or worse.

“What did you tell her?”

“Nothing, it’s your story to tell.” You nodded, it was never easy to talk about, the only one you talked to about everything was Grace and that was because she was the one to find you. You would tell Joey though, you would tell her everything, assuming she wanted to stick around and hear it. “Get cleaned up.”

You mindlessly walked out the door. You made sure to take a path that wouldn’t lead you past the living room. You listened for Joey’s heartbeat, hearing it was steady as she didn’t move from her spot. You didn’t want her to turn a corner and come face to face with you all naked and bloody, she might have already seen you at your worst, but you were hoping she didn’t see the aftermath.

When you got to your room you went straight to the bathroom. You didn’t have any clothes to peel off since shifting shredded them, so you just hopped right into the shower. You turned the shower on the hottest setting and let the water pour over you. You didn’t react as the water got progressively hotter, until it would burn a normal person, but you could take it, you liked the sting. It felt like the only way you could ever clean yourself of all the blood was by taking a scalding hot shower, you weren’t sure if it was because it hurt, and you deserved the pain or because the hotter the water was the more it felt like you were actually getting clean.

You kept your head down, your eyes staring at the drain as all the water going down was tainted red. After a few minutes of letting the water run over your body you finally grabbed your scrub brush and got to work. It took several minutes of scrubbing your entire body before it was finally not stained red. You tilted your head back, letting the water wash over your hair before running your hair through it a few times, making sure to get the clumps of blood and anything else out. When you didn’t scrub well enough you learned glops of blood or chunks of flesh tended to get stuck in places. Ever since the first time you learned to be incredible thorough with your scrubbing.

When you were finally cleaned up you stepped out of the shower, looking back to see the tile stained as well. You would have to bleach and spray it down when you got done with your talk with Joey. You went through this every month, you wished there was an easier way to clean the shower, you felt bad for always leaving it a mess, even though Grace understood and always said it was fine. You grabbed a towel off the rack wrapping it around yourself then grabbed another to run through your hair.

You made your way out of the bathroom, smiling when you saw Grace laid out a set of clean clothes, all nice and folded at the end of the bed. You slipped on the sweats and the t-shirt, not even bothering to put on socks as you walked back into the bathroom. You put an obscene amount of toothpaste on the toothbrush and began scrubbing your mouth, trying to get rid of the taste of whatever you tore apart out of your mouth. Not that it mattered, it was usually a few days before things went back to tasting normal. When you were finished you frowned at the toothbrush, seeing all the bristles broken and curved. Ever since you changed you went through a toothbrush pretty much once a month.

After tossing the toothbrush in the trash you gripped the edge of the sink and stared at your own reflection. There were dark circles around your eyes, you usually took a very long nap after shifting back but you didn’t have time for that, you needed to talk to Joey. At the thought of Joey, you gripped the counter tighter, the last time she had seen you you were a raging monster filled with bloodlust, you remembered the fear in her eyes when you started to change in front of her. You finally released the counter when you began to hear a crack, it wouldn’t be the first time you broke one of Grace’s marble countertops, but you knew it wasn’t cheap to replace, and it was always awkward trying to explain how it happened.

You shook your head, you couldn’t keep stalling, Grace got Joey to hear you out, she had been here long enough. You flung open the door and made your way out of your room, as soon as you got to the stairs you hesitated again. You didn’t kill her, but you didn’t know what you did do, if you hurt her, how close you came to hurting her, you knew you didn’t bite her, Grace would have told you that.

“Stop stalling,” you heard Grace whisper. Your head snapped up; she was probably in her office, if she wasn’t still cleaning out the cell, but you heard her as if she were standing next to you. One of the perks to what you were, came in handy on missions, but the benefits definitely didn’t out way the consequences in your opinion. No amount of strength, speed, heightened senses, none of it was worth it when you had to go through what you did every month.

You let out a shaky breath and took the first step. You had to get it over with. There was no doubt in your mind Joey would hate you, she would hate you for lying, for being a monster, for almost killing her, she’d never want to see you again. You slowly descended the stairs, completely lost in your mind, it was better this way, probably. Joey hating you was for the best, she would be safer, it’s not like you actually thought she’d ever like you back, this would just help rip off the band aid. Joey would be alive and safe with her son as far away from you as possible, and you were better off alone where you couldn’t hurt anyone.

You came to a stop once you hit the entryway of the living room. Your eyes instantly found Joey, she was sitting on the couch, hunched over and had her hands bawled into fists. Her entire body was tense, and it was all your fault. “Hey,” you whispered, afraid to break the uneasy silence.

The second you spoke Joey somehow tensed up even more. She slowly lifted her head, and you could tell she was cautious, she had no idea what she would see when she looked at you. You held eye contact for a moment, seeing the distrust all over her face. You walked across the room, her eyes tracking every move you made. You would normally sit on the couch, it was much more comfortable, but Joey probably didn’t want you anywhere near her, so you opted for the chair that was as far away from her as possible but still around the little coffee table.

“Ar-are you okay?” You asked. Your arms were on the armrest, but you gripped it tighter than necessary. You wanted to appear open to Joey, showing her there was nothing to fear, even though you knew that was useless at this point.

Joey let out a humorless chuckle. You couldn’t help but look away when she looked at you, the anger burning behind her eyes. “Am I okay?” She scoffed.

“Did I hurt you?” You whispered, gripping the armrest tighter. You would never hear the end of it if you ripped Grace’s chair, but you couldn’t relax until Joey answered the question, until you knew you didn’t hurt her.

“No.” Your grip instantly relaxed making you flex your fingers and let them hang loosely on the armrest again. “You certainly tried though.”

You closed your eyes. You wondered how close you got; how close you were to tearing Joey apart. “I’m sorry,” you rasped out. It didn’t mean anything, even if it was true, you still did it, you lied and almost killed Joey, an apology didn’t mean shit, it’s not like she’d forgive you anyway, it’s not like you deserved her forgiveness.

“You lied to me, from the very beginning. You told me we were going to hunt down monsters,” she let out another humorless chuckle. “You talked about how much you hated them. When all this time…” you flinched at her words, she never finished her sentence, but you knew what she was about to say when all this time you were a monster as well. “Why lie? Why put me on a mission when you knew what would happen?”

“I didn’t want you on that mission,” you said instantly. “I fought against it every step of the way. I wanted to go out there alone, it’s what we should have done.”

“Grace said she wanted me there.” You nodded. “Not for the witches or the girls but for you.” You let out a deep sigh, Grace was always trying to protect you, you didn’t deserve it. “Why? It’s not like I could have stopped you.”

You nodded, taking in Joeys question. You fought her on it but you knew exactly why Grace wanted her on that mission. “It was to give everyone else a chance,” you answered. “If I had gone alone, I would have torn through everything in my path.”

“You did.”

You looked up at Joey through tear filled eyes. “It would have been so much worse.” You looked back down in shame; you couldn’t stand the judgment coming off of Joey. “You alerted Grace, that allowed her to get to me in time before I could hurt innocent people. You being there also stalled me, the wolf only wants to hunt and focusing on the witches and then you kept the girls alive and Grace getting there stopped me from finding campers or who knows what else I could have come across.”

“So, I was just a distraction,” Joey scoffed.

“No, not exactly,” you quickly denied. “Grace always hoped that if I was around someone familiar when I was changed, that I would hesitate, that I might recognize them.”

“You don’t recognize people when you turn?”

You swallowed a lump and just shook your head. “I don’t remember anything after I shift. The last thing I remember before everything goes black is my bones breaking.”

You didn’t know why you didn’t remember. Every other werewolf you ever came across had control, they attacked who they wanted and left others alone, they had their human memories as a wolf and vice versa. You learned a few blacked out their first few shifts but you had yet to experience that.

“So, you know you don’t remember things and you left me completely defenseless,” Joey nodded along. “A heads up would have been nice, a way to stop you. I don’t know what kills a werewolf but-”

“Silver,” you cut her off. You looked over at her to see her eyes widen, as if she didn’t expect you to say that, or didn’t expect you to answer at all. “Anything made out of silver will hurt me.”

At that Joey furrowed her brow. “That knife,” she said slowly. “It wasn’t like mine; it wasn’t iron.”

You shook your head. “It was a precaution; I had hoped to use it to hold myself off.” You scoffed, “Lot of good that did.” You thought maybe having the knife would give Joey a better chance, but you never even got the chance to hand it off to her before the witches got you. “Silver will hold me off but a silver bullet right here,” you held a finger to your head. “Will kill me.”

“Is that how Grace restrained you?”

“Partly,” you nodded. “She had that trailer rigged in case anything like that happened.” Which it had happened more times than you cared to admit, but at least Grace’s invention was getting use. Despite the fact that it was literally meant to contain you, you had to admire the device, it was pure genius. “She avoided my head, but she did shoot me with silver bullets, then the trailer is metal, thick and strong enough for me to not instantly break through.”

“Meaning you can break through if you want?” Joey raised her eyebrows.

“Technically yes.” There were metals you couldn’t break through easily, like the cage downstairs but to use that for a trailer would make it too heavy and Grace needed to be able to drive you away, whether it be in the middle of the woods where you couldn’t hurt anyone or back home. “The spikes she shot me with,” you gestured to your shoulder where one of them hit you. “Are made of silver. Then once I was in the container, she released wolfsbane.”

“Wolfsbane?” Joey raised her eyebrows at that. “That’s also real?”

You couldn’t help but smile. There were so many movies and shows about werewolves, like vampires, one didn’t know what was real and what was pure fiction. There were a lot of weird things fiction brought into the werewolf curse but the two things they always seemed to get right were silver bullets and wolfsbane.

“It’s a plant but it can be spread through the air or mixed in with a liquid, there’s a lot of ways to get it in the system,” you said. “It won’t kill a werewolf, but it hurts like hell, it burns us.” You winced just thinking about all the times wolfsbane had been used on you.

“Why are you telling me all this?” Joey asked. Despite what you and Grace told her about her questions being answered she clearly didn’t believe that would actually happen or maybe she didn’t believe you would be so willing to tell her how to kill you.

“So, you know what to do next time,” you shrugged. “Even if you don’t continue working with us, it’s good to know what’s out there and how to stop it.” You let out a deep sigh, if Joey by chance wanted to continue working with you, you wanted to give her a chance to escape next time. You also knew what else was out there, the kind of wolves that existed, not many of them were as restrained as you.

“You’re literally telling me how to kill you,” Joey let out a disbelieving huff. “Who does that? You kept this secret from me the entire time and now you’re just willingly telling me how to kill you.”

“Because I hate what I am!” You snapped. You closed your eyes then clenched your fist and slowly unclenched them. “I don’t want to hurt you, or Grace, or anyone.” You opened your eyes again. When you looked at Joey this time, it was through tear filled eyes. “If it came down to it, I would rather be killed then have to hurt you or Grace or someone innocent. That’s not who I want to be.”

You gripped your knees tight. When you slowly release your knees you stared down at your hand, it was still human looking. You had been getting better at control, there were times you’d grip your knee or clench your fist so tight that your claws popped out and you usually didn’t notice until blood was running down your arm or leg.

“How long have you been like this?” Joey asked softly. You weren’t sure if she was being kinder because of your outburst, and she was worried you’d rip her throat out or if she actually cared about not upsetting you.

“I was bit two years ago,” you rasped out. Looking down at where the bite mark was, you had forgotten about until it was all over, that night flashed through your mind.

“That’s how it works?” You looked up to see a spark of curiosity in Joey’s eyes. She might have been pissed at you, but she still had that wonder about all this stuff. “A bite?”

You nodded. “Not sure how it all started,” you shrugged. “There’s families who are born into this, but then someone can also be turned by a bite.”

“H-how did it happen?”

You sucked in a breath. You knew the question was coming but you still weren’t ready for it. “That’s a long story.”

“I know you promised me answers, but if it’s too much to talk about, you don’t have to.”

The corner of your mouth twitched up, even after lying to her, Joey was still so understanding. “No,” you shook your head. “You deserve to know.” You let out a long sigh as you leaned back in the chair. “It’s not a pretty story.” You looked at Joey until she gave you a nod to continue. Just because it wasn’t easy for you to talk about didn’t mean it wasn’t hard for other people to hear. “Two years ago, I was on my way home when…”

You walked down the street like any other day. You had just got off a late shift at the bar and were making your way back to your crappy apartment. You shoved your hands in the pockets of your jacket, trying to keep them as warm as possible. You really needed to save up for a car, the New York winters weren’t doing you any good.

Someone came up behind you, throwing a bag over your head. You tried whipping around but you felt strong arms grab you and hold you in place. Your eyes darted around, even though you only saw darkness. You could hear the squeak of brakes as, what you assumed was some sort of vehicle, pull up to your left. There was a click, a door sliding open, and the next thing you knew you were tossed into the back of the vehicle. You crawled around, trying to find your footing when you heard the door slide shut and a second later a car door close.

You reached up and ripped the bag off your head only to be met with more darkness. You blinked, trying to get your eyes to adjust to the little bit of light coming from the little lights on the roof of the vehicle. You were definitely in a van of some sort, you looked back and saw nothing but a metal wall blocking you from the front seat, there wasn’t even a window to see the driver.

You whipped back around when you heard whimpering. You squinted and could just barely make out a group of two girls and two guys huddled in the corner. With a shaky finger one of the girls pointed to the other side of the van. You followed her finger to see a large man in all black and a mask covering everything but his eyes and mouth. He jerked his head to the side, telling you to huddle together with the others. You couldn’t see any weapons, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have any and there were at least two more people in the front seat, so you did as he asked.

The two girls gripped onto you, pulling you into the huddle as soon as you got within reach. You could feel the others trembling against you, or it might have been you, you weren’t quite sure. You weren’t sure what was going on, you had heard stories of human trafficking and people getting kidnapped, you just never thought it would be you. Something about this felt different though, they were wearing masks, but they weren’t worried about restraining any of you, maybe they were just that cocky or they were confident that none of you would fight back. You could only stare up at the man in the back with all of you, his body jostled from side to side as the van continued to speed down the street. All you could see was his dark eyes when they met yours, you held your breath, waiting for him to say something but he just smirked.

You weren’t sure how long all of you were in the car before it came to a stop, sending all of you flying forward into the far wall. You heard the man chuckle and through the pile of limbs you noticed him get up. He was just a giant shadowy figure towering over all of you, then someone opened the back doors of the van, and the man was illuminated in moonlight. The man walked backwards, not bothering to turn around until he hopped out of the van.

“Let’s go!” Another man shouted, slamming his fist on the side of the van. You and the others froze, you were sure ignoring the man was a bad idea, but you didn’t know what would happen if you didn’t listen to him. “Now!” He pounded the side of the van even harder.

You and the others scrambled to your feet, most of you needing to crouch down so you didn’t hit your head on the top of the van. All of you hopped out of the van single file, with you making sure to stick towards the middle of the group, you wanted to bring as little attention to yourself as possible. You kept your head down; you didn’t know what would happen if you began looking around or caught the eyes of one of the men around you. You tried to sneak a peek through your lashes though, you saw three men near the van, most likely the ones that grabbed you, then you saw more boots further to the side, though you couldn’t make out whether they belong to men or women.

You tensed when you heard the wheels of another vehicle approach, you took a risk and looked up, seeing an identical van come to a stop. Two men hopped out of the van and made their way to the back, where the man from the passenger side opened the back doors, allowing a third man to hop out. They did the same thing as the guys from your van, they banged on the side of the van and ordered everyone to get out. A few seconds later a group of another five people, one girl and four guys, hopped out of the van and stood in a single file line, each of them with their heads down. You could practically see them shaking from where you stood. There was now a total of ten of you, with six masked men standing around all of you.

“Everyone line up!” A man shouted. Everyone seemed to freeze at the same time, you weren’t sure if your two groups were supposed to line up together, technically you were lined up, unless they wanted a different type of line. “Now!”

You all quickly scrambled, forming a long single file line. You all kept your heads bowed as the men walked up and down on both sides of you. You held your breath when you heard the crunch of boots getting closer. You weren’t sure where you were, but you were standing on dirt, you tried glancing out of the side of your eyes at your surroundings, but everything was so dark, the only lights seemed to come from the vehicles.

“March!” The man ordered. This time none of you hesitated to get moving.

You all marched in single file, some people moved too quickly and stepped on the heel of the one in front of them. You weren’t sure where they were taking all of you but eventually you crossed over onto a grassy area. You strained your ears to try and decipher anything that might tell you where you were, but you heard nothing, not even bugs.

Everyone bumped into each other as the line slowly came to a stop. There was a loud groan, like a latch on a metal door being lifted, then there was the sound of a large metal door creaking open. “Move!” Someone from the back shouted. You assumed whoever it was shoved the person at the end of the line because the person behind you stumbled into you, making you stumble into the person in front of you.

All of you shuffled forward, eventually leaving the outdoors and entering some sort of building. You couldn’t tell what it was, there were no lights inside, but when you passed by the door you saw it was indeed a giant metal industrial style door. The door had a large latch that had to be lifted up to unlock the door, and there was nothing to open the door from the inside. You had never seen a door quite like that, you knew a door that only opened one way was always meant to keep something in, though you couldn’t imagine what they possibly wanted all of you for, that would make them want to lock you all up.

“Along the back wall!” A male voice echoed throughout the room.

Since there was no light you all stumbled forward until you hit a brick wall. You kept one hand on the wall, feeling the cold stone beneath your fingers as you turned around. You kept your head down even though it was dark, for some reason you thought they’d know if you looked at them. You heard several pairs of boots shuffling away from all of you, indicating the men were making their way out of the room. A second later there was a loud sound of the metal door slamming shut, and then the latch being flipped back into place, locking all ten of you in the cold dark room.

There was only the sound of everyone’s breathing for several minutes. It seemed as though all of you were afraid to move. You were pretty sure not a single one of the people who had taken you were in the room, but you didn’t know what would happen if you moved. You weren’t sure what game they were playing, why they wanted you or any of these other people. For all you knew there were cameras or listening devices in the room and as soon as any of you started trying to escape someone would come in and take and do who knows what to you.

“What the hell is this?” One of the guys asked.

“I-I-I-I was ju-jus-just wa-walk-walking ho-home,” one of the girls got out. You couldn’t see her, but it sounded like she was hyperventilating or close to a panic attack, not that you could blame her for that.

“Me too,” one of the other girls whispered.

“Same,” one of the guys spoke up.

“So, they grabbed all of us off the street?” the same man who asked the question spoke again.

“Seems that way.”

“What do they want? Who the fuck are these people?”

“I didn’t even know they were there until they tossed a bag over my head,” another man said.

“Same,” you finally rasped out. “Two men grabbed me, tossed a bag over my head, I didn’t see anything, I just heard the car roll up before they tossed me in.”

“Someone had to see something right?” another girl spoke up, sounding more hysterical than the first one. “We were picked off the street, there’s cameras, witnesses, something!”

“It was the middle of the night,” the first man replied not unkindly. “I don’t know about all of you but as far as I know there was no one around.”

Everyone remained silent, everyone seemed to have been in the same position, you knew it had been the same for you. The girl wasn’t wrong about cameras, there were traffic cams, store cams, ATMs, there was some form of camera all over the city. The only issue was that if no one knew any of you were missing, or no one knew where you last were, then there would be no reason to check the cameras. You highly doubted some store owner checked the cameras to his shop every morning, unless he had a reason to, and even if by some chance they did, they’d also have to care. People had a habit of remaining quiet when something happened, usually not wanting to get involved, or not wanting to put a target on their own back. In this case you honestly couldn’t blame anyone for not wanting to talk about a van rolling up and grabbing someone, the speed and way it happened told you it was definitely not the first time for these people, they were professionals.

“Well, someone will miss us, right?” the girl asked again. “Family? Friends? Someone will definitely notice when we don’t show up to work!”

You let out a humorless chuckle. “I have no one,” you said with a careless shrug. You had a job but even if you didn’t show up your boss would only be pissed about the inconvenience, he might leave an angry message but otherwise he’d write you off, fire you without giving your existence a second thought.

No one spoke up, no one tried to say their friends or families would look for them, it seemed everyone was in the same boat as you. All of you were taken the same way, all of you were people that no one would miss. You furrowed your brow, for the guys who grabbed you to know all that it meant they had to be watching all of you for some time. They had to know when and where each of you would be to plan this so perfectly. You let your head flop back against the stone wall and slid down to the floor, something this big, with this much planning and so many people involved, there was no way any of you were getting out of this.

“What if we attack them when they come back?” one of the guys asked. “We can work together and as soon as they open the door, we grab them!”

“What about the other five?” the first man asked.

“Not to mention all the others,” you added. “No idea how many, but there’s a lot more than the six who grabbed us.”

“There’s still ten of us!” the guy continued to try and be hopeful.

“And who knows how many of them there are!” the first guy snapped. “They’ve clearly planned this all out. We don’t know their numbers or what kind of weapons they have.”

“I didn’t see the guy in the back of the van with a weapon,” the man said weakly, still trying not to give up on his argument.

“That doesn’t mean he didn’t have one.”

“Or that others don’t have one,” you added. “They’ve clearly done this before; it would be way to risky to take this many people and not have a way to keep us in line.” Even if all of you made it out of the room you had no idea what awaited you on the outside. You didn’t get a good look, but you had to be out in the middle of nowhere or on a large patch of property. You didn’t know the area so odds were if you ran, you’d get lost, it would probably be easy for them to catch you all again, or take you out, they might just shoot you in the back as you tried to run away.

“So, what do we do?” the guy asked.

You and the man didn’t respond, there didn’t seem to be anything you could do besides wait and meet your fate. When no one answered it seemed to take all of the fight out of him because you heard someone plop down on the floor with sigh. Hope was the strongest thing one could have in this type of situation, hope of someone rescuing you, hope of surviving this, hope of getting out, but none of you wanted to provide hope. As much as you wanted to fight back, you wouldn’t just roll over and let them do what they wanted, but it was still hard to find any sliver of hope that you would get out of this. If you were being honest with yourself, your only hope was that your death would be quick.

You remained against the wall, your leg propped up and your arm resting over your knee, while the other leg was stretched out. Your eyes had adjusted to the dark as best as they could, but it still wasn’t like you could see anything. Everyone had shuffled around the room, it sounded like someone was feeling around the walls, hoping for some sort of weakness, two of the girls were huddled together to the left of you and were sobbing as quietly as they could. You turned your head, when you felt someone slide down the wall and sit next to you, even though you couldn’t make out any sort of features on the person.

“Hey,” the guy said, and you recognized him as the one who first spoke up. “Are you the person who actually agreed with me?”

You huffed out a laugh. “Yeah,” you replied. None of you could see each other, you barely knew what anyone looked like. The only way to identify each at the moment was based on each other’s voice, and not everyone had spoken, there were still two guys who had yet to speak.

“My name’s Cody.”

You weren’t sure why he was telling you; you didn’t believe any of you would be alive long enough to warrant knowing each other’s names. “Y/N,” you told him anyway.

“What’s your take on all this?”

You let out a deep sigh as you gave it some thought, not that you hadn’t been trying to figure that exact thing out since they first grabbed you. “I have no idea,” you shrugged. “At first I thought maybe human trafficking.”

“It doesn’t feel like that.” Cody seemed to be thinking as he said that, he wasn’t trying to dismiss your thought, he just wasn’t sure he agreed with it. “I’m not sure I can explain why.”

“I know what you mean.” You let your head flop back against the wall again, you weren’t sure why, but you didn’t think the people who grabbed you would be coming back to transport you all again, you had a feeling that whatever was going to happen to all of you would be done here.

“Clearly they’ve been watching us,” you whispered, even though the room was empty, and you knew the others could hear your entire conversation. “There’s a reason they grabbed us, they didn’t pick us at random.”

“But?” he asked, clearly already sensing you weren’t done yet.

“But it also doesn’t seem like they care who they grabbed. They grabbed both men and women, but not an even number.” You furrowed your brow, there was ten of you and you’d normally think if they were kidnapping both men and women that they’d want an even number of each but that’s not the case, the number of men was higher than the number of women.

“Maybe that’s not what’s important to them. Maybe the most important part is people who won’t be missed.

“Then that makes what they’re planning even more concerning.”

Cody sucked in a breath, seeming to understand what you meant. They didn’t care about gender, that didn’t play any importance in their plan, that just meant the same thing was going to happen to all of you. That didn’t do anything to ease your worries, that only made them worse. You weren’t sure if the guys were going to come in an take you out one by one, take you out in pairs. Or do something to the entire group of you, there were endless possibilities of horrors they could put you all through.

“Whatever happens,” Cody whispered. “We need to stick together.”

You weren’t sure if Cody actually had some sort of hope that you guys could make it out of this or not. The way he spoke to the other guy made it seem like he knew fighting back would be pointless, but this kind of comment made it seem like he thought there was a fighting chance. Even if there was no chance, even if you all faced what was surely a guaranteed death, at least sticking together would mean you might not die alone, and maybe it would mean making things a little more difficult for your captors, which even if you did die would definitely be worth it.

Everyone fell silent after that. Sobs eventually died down, whether it was because they passed out or because they were finally gathering themselves you didn’t know. The guy who had been looking for away out kicked and pounded on the door, screaming in frustration until finally slumping to the floor, seeming to realize there truly was no way out. You weren’t sure how long all of you had been in there, no one ever came to check on you, no one ever came to drop off food or water, for all you knew it would be days before anyone ever came back. Eventually you found it hard to keep your eyes open and you fell into a restless sleep.

You shot awake, your eyes darting around trying to make out anything but only seeing darkness. “Hey, hey,” Cody said, his hand coming over to rest on your shoulder. “You fell asleep.”

You let your head flop back against the wall and you closed your eyes as you let out a shaky breath. You had hoped everything had been a horrible nightmare, but it wasn’t, you were still locked away in some mysterious dark building. You didn’t open your eyes again until your heart no longer felt like it was about to beat out of your chest.

“Did I miss anything?” you rasped out. You cleared your throat; you couldn’t tell how much time had passed exactly but your dry throat told you it had been several hours.

“Nope,” Cody sighed.

All of you continued to sit in the dark, occasionally the sound of someone shuffling around could be heard but no one tried to find a way to escape again. You and Cody sat in silence for the most part, some of the others had whispered conversations but you didn’t see the point. There was no use in getting to know each other when you didn’t know what was going to happen, you didn’t want to build connections with these people, for all you knew this was some weird fight club and you’d be forced to fight and kill each other. That was doubtful in your mind but still, there was a chance something would happen, and you might have to choose between yourself and one of the others, or maybe they’d make you choose who lived and who died between the others, you had no idea what these people planned.

The sound of the latch being lifted had all of you perking up. You straightened your back but didn’t pull yourself back up to your feet again. You held your breath as you waited to see who would walk through the door, but no one did. There was a groan as the door swung open slightly, just enough to show it was open, but no one came through. It was dark outside, but a small bit of moonlight was enough to let a bit of light in the room.

You and Cody, both pulled yourselves back to your feet and glanced at each other. You each had the same suspicious look in your eyes, not quite sure if you should move and what would be awaiting you if you stepped outside. You finally got a good look at Cody, he hadn’t been one of the guys in your van, he had been in the second one. He looked about your age, his hair was dirty blond, he was in a blue t-shirt and jeans, each of which were rather dirty, and his boots were caked in dried mud. Cody definitely looked like he did manual labor, most likely working in construction of some sort.

“This could be our only chance,” the guy who kept trying to convince you all to fight back said. He ran to the door but turned around when he realized no one else had moved. “Come on!” he gestured with his arm.

“We don’t know what’s waiting for us,” Cody said.

“So, we should just sit here and wait to die?” you looked at Cody and saw the way his eyebrows knitted together. Cody seemed just as conflicted as you, if you stayed you were just giving up, waiting to let them do whatever they wanted but if you ran, it was an unknown, who knew what they’d do to you then, it could be so much worse. “Whatever,” the man scoffed. “I’m not sitting here to wait to die.” And with that he pushed the door open the rest of the way and took off out into the night.

You stepped forward and Cody instantly grabbed your arm. You looked back to see the worry in his eyes. You raised your hand, silently asking him to give you a minute, you could see the internal struggle behind his eyes but eventually he, although reluctantly, let go of your arm. You inched forward towards the door; you could feel everyone’s eyes on you as they waited to see what would happen.

You finally came to the threshold and couldn’t bring yourself to cross it yet. You peeked your head out the door and saw nothing and no one. You furrowed your brow, you could see the man still running at full speed towards the woods, but no one was chasing after him.

“What do you see?” one of the other guys whispered.

“Nothing,” you answered, shaking your head. “It’s just a giant open field and it looks like woods surrounding us.”

“I’m out of here,” he said and pushed past you and took off towards the woods.

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out before the other three guys pushed past you, taking off after the others. You looked back to see Cody had stepped forward a bit, but he still seemed cautious about leaving the room. One of the girls stood up and made her way to the middle of the room. “What are we waiting for?” she asked. “This is our chance!” when none of you moved, she just rolled her eyes and ran out the door as well.

You looked back to the two other girls, seeing one curled in a ball in the corner of the room, while the other stood on her feet, trying to get the other girl to stand as well. The other girl tried to coax the girl to get up as softly as she could, but the girl just sobbed and shook her head, curling in on herself even more. The girl eventually let go of the other one and took a few steps away, shaking her head as she made her way out of the room as well.

“What are you thinking?” you asked Cody.

Cody shook his head as he stared out the open door. “Something about this doesn’t feel right.”

“Agreed.” Someone clearly opened the door, they wanted all of you to run, but you couldn’t figure out why. You weren’t sure why someone would kidnap ten people only to just let them go. “But we can’t stay here.”

Cody gripped at his hair and groaned. He eventually nodded, seeming to reluctantly agree with you. “We can’t just leave her,” he pointed at the girl still in the corner.

You opened your mouth, but Cody was already crouching down next to the girl. He was whispering comforting words to her, trying everything to get her to stand up. It seemed futile though, the girl wouldn’t budge, she wouldn’t so much as look at any of you. It was harsh but you needed to leave her, you couldn’t stick around waiting for them to come and pick you off, all because you didn’t want to leave some girl you didn’t even know.

“We can come back for her,” you suggested. Cody looked up at you with a furrowed brow, clearly not liking the idea of leaving the girl here. “If she doesn’t want to come, we can’t do anything.” You were really jus trying to be practical, even if Cody wanted to carry the girl it would only slow the two of you down. “We can’t do any good if we don’t save ourselves first.” You didn’t lie, if you somehow managed to make it out alive, you would come back for the girl, you would send help, but you weren’t about to stand there and die for someone you didn’t know.

Cody slowly got up and reluctantly nodded as he joined your side. You grabbed Cody by the arm and pulled him through the door, he didn’t take his eyes off the girl the entire time. When the cool air hit you both Cody finally turned around. “Everyone took off that way,” you said, pointing towards the right where the woods were.

“Where the hell are we?” Cody asked.

The two of you stepped away from the box and spun in a circle. A box was the only way to describe what you were kept in; it was literally a giant box made out of stone and metal. There were no windows or ventilation of any kind, if you were all left in there, after a few days you would have all surely suffocated. There was nothing else around, there was a patch of dirt that you had all been standing on when you first arrived, but the rest of the area was just a large grassy field. There wasn’t even an actual dirt path the vehicles drove on, just tire tracks from them driving the same path over and over again.

Both of your heads snapped back towards the woods when you heard a howl echo throughout the air. Your eyes widened, you had never seen a wolf in the wild before but that was most definitely a wolf, though it sounded larger than you expected. A few seconds later a screamed ripped through the air, making your entire body shudder. You didn’t know who the scream belonged to, but you knew it was a man’s scream.

“We need to go,” you said. You weren’t sure why, but every fiber of your body was telling you to run. “We need to go now!” you took off to the woods and only looked back once to see Cody was following your lead.

As the two of you ran for the woods you heard several more howls begin to echo throughout. You weren’t sure where any of them were coming from, it sounded like they were surrounding you, yet nowhere near you. As soon as you hit the woods you came to a stop, every direction looked the same, you weren’t sure how far you were from civilization to begin with. You jumped back, Cody and you grabbing onto each other when you heard a girl’s scream pierce the air next.

“What the hell is going on?” you whispered. You hadn’t seen any of your captors, but you had a feeling this is exactly what they planned.

“Let’s just keep moving,” Cody said.

It was clear he was trying to come off as confident, but you could see the way he was shaking. You nodded and the two of you began making your way through the woods. Unlike the previous night it was now a full moon and lit your surroundings as well as it could, but there were still too many obstacles that prevented the two of you from taking off and running again.

You heard another girl scream, but this time it came from behind you. You and Cody both looked back in the direction you had come, each of your eyes widened when you realized there was only one person in that direction. Cody didn’t hesitate to take back off the way you had just come. “Wait!” you called after him, but nothing seemed to be stopping him. You looked in the direction you had been going and then back to Cody’s disappearing figure, you groaned, internally slapping yourself before turning and taking off after Cody.

You quickly caught up to Cody before he broke through the woods. The two of you slowed down as you approached the box again, the screaming had died down, but you could hear snarling and growling coming from the inside. When you got close enough you could see a large black wolf chomping down on something in the corner. You brought a hand to your mouth when you noticed the pool of blood now coating the floor and the human hand at the wolf’s side.

You must have made some sort of noise because the wolfs head snapped back and glowing yellow eyes were now staring back at you. You stepped back, nearly tripping as you realized it wasn’t a normal wolf at all, it turned around on all fours, but you could see that the creature definitely wasn’t just a wolf. It lunged for you, but Cody slammed the door on it. He kept his back pressed to the door, putting all his weight on it as he tried to keep it closed. Cody’s eyes widened as his feet began to slide and claws slowly started to inch their way out of the door. You shook yourself out of your shock and ran towards Cody, slamming your body into the door. The monster let out a whine as it pulled its claws back in and you and Cody flipped the latch, locking the creature inside.

“What the fuck was that?” you shouted, gesturing at the box. You jumped back when the entire box shook as the monster began throwing itself at the walls and growling.

“Who fucking cares,” Cody said. “We need to go!” He grabbed your arm and the two of you took off back towards the woods. This time neither of you slowed down when you hit the woods, you just kept running, jumping over logs and rocks as they appeared in your path, and ignoring the way the branches smacked you.

There were two more screams just like the others and if they met the same fate as the girl that meant there was only one more girl left and two more guys, plus you and Cody. Your numbers were quickly dwindling, and you were pretty sure you and Cody were the only ones paired up. You weren’t sure if the creature you locked in the box was the only one out there or if there were more, you also weren’t ready to admit to yourself what it was, all you knew was that it wasn’t a normal wolf.

You and Cody kept running until your foot got caught on a branch, sending you tumbling to the ground. You groaned as you pushed yourself up, but your eyes widened when you were met with the face of one of the girls. You scrambled back and snapped your head back when you felt a boot but quickly relaxed when you saw it was only Cody. Cody reached down and helped you back to your feet, neither of your eyes ever leaving the body.

“What the fuck,” Cody whispered. “She was torn apart.” You shook your head, the girls’ lifeless eyes stared up at you, the rest of her was ripped to shreds, her entire stomach look like it had been clawed open and her rib cage was practically ripped in half.

“You think this is from the same one?” you whispered. Almost as soon as the question left your lips you heard another howl, then another, and another, as if they were communicating.

You let out a shaky breath as tears filled your eyes. “They’re hunting us,” you whispered. Cody shook his head as if denying your claim, but he still couldn’t form the words to actually argue against it. You didn’t say it outright, but you implied that the people who captured you were these monsters, and they brought you out here to hunt you down. Which was insane, monsters weren’t real, the Wolfman, all of that, it was just fiction.

“We need to keep moving,” Cody whispered.

You nodded even though you honestly didn’t see the point. You trapped one in the box, but that was only because it was already in there. You weren’t sure how many of these things were out there, you had no weapons, there was no way you could outrun a normal wolf so you highly doubted you would be able to outrun one of these things.

“Come on,” Cody said, and gently led you over the body.

The two of you took of through the woods again, not as fast as you had been moving before but much more careful than previously. You tried to ignore the howls as you ran through the woods, none of them sounded close but for all you knew they were waiting and watching for the perfect time to attack the two of you.

Cody suddenly stopped, making you run into him. You furrowed your brow until you heard a branch crack, making you freeze. Cody scanned one side while you scanned the other, each of you holding your breath. Not even the insects were making a sound, you were just waiting to catch the glimmer of yellow eyes before you saw razor sharp teeth lunging at you again. There was another crack and then more, whatever was coming at you was coming fast. You and Cody both turned when you could determine the direction the sound was coming from only to see one of the guy stumbling out of the woods.

You both jumped back, it was the guy that ran out the door first. He was panting and covered in dirt and blood, you weren’t sure if the blood was his own or someone else’s. He looked around until his eyes landed on the two of you, there were tears streaming down his face. “It killed them,” he sobbed.

“Who?” Cody asked.

“The-the girl,” he pointed off in the direction he had come from, that meant all the girls were dead. “And two of the others,” he shook his head. That meant that there was at least one man still out there, you, Cody, and the man in front of you. You weren’t sure if the guy you heard scream was part of the one’s the man mentioned or if that had been two other men. “It-it just tore them apart.”

“What did?” the man was looking around frantically; you weren’t sure he had even heard Cody’s question. “Hey,” Cody grasped the man by the shoulders and forced him to look at him. “What was it?”

The man was still shaking, and tears were still streaming down his face as he stared right into Cody’s eyes. “Werewolves,” he whispered.

Cody let go of the man, giving him a forceful shove away. “Bullshit.” The man stumbled back but remained upright. “Those aren’t real!”

You stumbled back, grabbing Cody by the arm to pull him with you. Your eyes widened and stared above the man’s head when you saw a large grey wolf standing on his hindlegs as it towered over him. The man choked on a silent sob, seeming to already know what was behind him before he turned around. You and Cody could deny it all you wanted but there was no arguing that standing before you was a werewolf, there was nothing else it could be, despite how insane it sounded.

The werewolf swiped its large claws at the man. The man stumbled slightly as he slowly turned to face the two of you again. He brought a hand to his neck, and you could see blood gushing between his fingers. He opened his mouth trying to speak but nothing came out, nothing needed to though, you could see the word he was trying to form, ‘run’ that was all it seemed Cody needed to grab you by the arm and yank you off in another direction. You looked back over your shoulder to see the werewolf swipe up, impaling its claws through the man’s back before lifting him high in the air. The werewolf let out a monstrous roar and you turned back around, unable to watched what happened next.

As the two of you took off through the woods you heard another scream from a man, not too far away from you. The two of you slid to a stop, the scream came from just in front of you. You tugged on Cody’s arm to drag him to the right, you needed to keep moving, you already knew what awaited you if you continued forward. If your math was right, then you and Cody were most likely the only ones left. There was a small probability of one other guy was still out there, but for all you knew he was already dead, and if he wasn’t dead yet, it was only a matter of time before one of the wolves caught up to him.

The two of you continued to run until you broke through the woods. You slowly came to a stop, furrowing your brow at your surroundings, it was different than where you were previously. There was still a large patch of land but in the center of it was, what you could only describe as, a giant mansion. There was a paved driveway that led to the house, making a giant circle out front and to the right was a giant four car garage. There were no gates or walls around the mansion, it was completely open, and then surrounding the area was woods. It seemed the driveway led to the only road out of this place. You wanted nothing more than to run the entire way, but you knew if you didn’t get a car or weapons of some sort, the two of you would never make it.

You heard more howling, making the two of you turn back to the woods, it sounded like the monsters were all off, still trying to hunt you down, they probably didn’t know the two of you had reached their home. “Let’s go,” Cody said, nodding at the house.

The two of you took off across the lawn as quickly and quietly as you could. You tiptoed up the front steps, you and Cody shared a look before Cody rested his hand on the door handle and gently pushed it open. It was unlocked, meaning they certainly didn’t expect anyone to make it to their home. Cody slipped into the house first with you right behind him, you quietly closed the door as soon as you entered.

You strained your ears, listening for any sort of movement in the house but heard none. The house was gigantic though, so you knew you’d have to be careful, you weren’t sure how many of these people there were still. You followed Cody as he creeped forward, gently pushing open the door to the left before peeking his head in. He looked back at you and gave a small nod, indicating it was all clear.

The two of you moved through the house, checking each room before entering them. You hadn’t run into anyone yet and still had yet to hear a sound. Besides the werewolves hunting you outside, this seemed like a relatively normal mansion, well, as normal as a mansion could be. You finally pushed open the door to what appeared to be an office. Your eyes widened at the large oak desk centered at the back of the room, there were two oak chairs in front of it, then in the middle of the room was an oak coffee table, accompanied by two oak sofa’s, each of the chairs and sofas had matching lush red cushions, and everything looked hand carved.

“Hey, over here,” Cody whispered as he made his way towards one of the cabinets in the room. He tried to open the doors, but they didn’t budge, he groaned as he began searching the surrounding area for what you assumed was a key.

You started to make your way towards Cody when something above the desk caught your eye. You walked past Cody and made your way around the desk. You sucked in a breath as you stared up at the painting hanging on the wall. “Hey, help me look for a key,” Cody said. You were only partially aware of him beside you as he began opening the drawers of the desk. “What’s wrong?” he finally stood up and you could feel his presence behind you.

You were staring at a hand painted family portrait. If you counted right, there were fifteen people in the portrait. Several men and several women, standing side by side in matching outfits. Most of the men were large, anyone of them could have been the ones to grab you off the street. Your eyes landed on one man in the middle of the back row. You pointed your finger at him, as it tried to click in your brain as to how to recognized him.

“That’s the man,” you said. You looked at Cody who scrunched his eyebrows together before looking back at the painting. “He was the one in the back of the van.”

“Are you sure?” Cody asked hesitantly. “You said they were wearing mask.”

“He was but yes.” You turned to face Cody, absolutely confident that that was the man from the van. “He’s got the same stupid smirk,” you flicked a glare at the portrait.

“So, what,” Cody’s furrowed brow only deepened. “This is like some family bullshit? They kidnap us then hunt us down? Like, some weird sort of cult?”

“Like a pack,” you whispered, your eyes widening in realization. You didn’t know how everyone in the portrait was related but based on what you’d already seen tonight, you would say this wasn’t just some psycho family, it was a pack of werewolves, who seemed to like to hunt for their prey under the full moon.

“This is insane!” Cody shook his head.

“I know! But I got nothing else, do you?” Cody just closed his eyes, unable to come up with a better argument.

“There’s weapons over there,” he pointed at the cabinet he was trying to get into before. You looked over to see a large wooden case that had several types of guns and various other weapons locked behind it. “We need a key.”

You nodded and turned to help Cody continue digging through the desk. Eventually you found a small metal key taped under one of the drawers of the desk. You handed it to Cody, giving him a hopeful look. If the key didn’t work you would need to find another way to get the cabinet open, there was no way you’d survive without any weapons. Cody rushed over to the cabinet and after jiggling the key in the lock a few times there was finally a click.

You ran over to the cabinet, swinging both doors open so the both of you could look at everything together. You grabbed one of the shotguns and a box of shells. “Do you know how to use that?” Cody asked.

You opened your mouth then shook your head. “Never really been into guns or hunting,” you admitted.

“Here,” Cody took the shot gun from you. He opened it up and held out his hand and you dropped two shells into his palm. He placed the shells into the barrel of the gun and then flipped it up, snapping it back into place. He pumped the bottom part of the gun; you weren’t sure on the technical name, but you knew from movies that doing that meant as soon as you pulled the trigger the gun would fire. “It’s got two shots,” he handed you back the gun. “Then you’d need to reload. You nodded and slipped the box of shells into your pocket.

“Will any of this even work?” you looked at Cody. He grabbed one of the magazines and placed it into a handgun; after giving it a quick check he slipped it into his waistband. “It’s all we have.” He grabbed another handgun, doing the same thing but this time he handed it to you. You looked down at it before copying Cody’s move and slipped it into your waistband.

Cody pulled open one of the drawers and revealed several types of knives. You each grabbed a large hunting knife and another smaller one you could slip into your pocket. You opened another drawer, and your eyes widened as grenades lined the drawer. You looked at Cody who had the same look as you, you each grabbed a few grenades, and the stuff needed to strap them to your bodies.

Your head snapped up when you heard the creak of a floorboard. You both froze and heard nothing for a second until the floor creaked again. Cody held a finger to his lips and pointed at the door to the right of you. You inched towards the door with Cody following behind, neither of you taking your eyes off the door to the office. You turned the doorknob, flinched at the quiet squeak it made but sounded loud as it echoed throughout the otherwise quiet mansion.

You pushed open the door as quietly as possible and backed into the room. As soon as you turned around your eyes went wide. You stumbled forward when you felt Cody bump into you as he made his way into the room as well. You could hear him suck in a breath, telling you he was seeing the same thing you were. The entire room off the office was filled with werewolf stuff.

The two of you stepped further into the room that seemed to show the history of werewolves, or at the very least this family. There were paintings of various werewolves, none of which looked like the two you saw earlier, based on the clothing of who they were killing they looked older, possibly this family’s ancestors. Each of the paintings involved a werewolf standing over someone, based on the weapons strewn on the ground they were most likely a hunter. There was also a bookcase lining one of the walls and it was stuffed with, not books, but what appeared to be leatherbound journals.

Cody made a noise, making you turn around, he waved you over to a large table in the middle of the room. You furrowed your brow as you joined his side, looking down at the table when you got close enough. Your eyes widened, the table had a large map pinned down, it seemed to be the layout of the land, there was a red dot that you assumed represented the house you were currently in, then surrounding the house, as expected, was nothing but woods, then there was a large patch of land with a small yellow dot, which you assumed represented the box.

You found the driveway and ran your finger down the path, trailing it through the woods, then eventually finally hitting a road, which you followed down until you hit what looked to be a main road. You let out a scoff and shook your head, you were literally miles from civilization, you had to get onto a small two-lane road, then turn down a one lane path that led through the woods, then you would finally hit the driveway that led up to the house. You really need to find a car to get out of there otherwise the two of you would be walking for hours.

You felt Cody brush your shoulder and you looked to see him sliding photos and documents across the table. You scrunched your eyebrows together, they weren’t just any normal photos, they were photos of you, and everyone else that they had grabbed. The photos were taken from far away, like they just snapped the picture while you were walking down the street or coming out of a store. You noticed there was a single page document on each of you, each of the papers said the same things, some basic details about where to find each of you, what your patterns were, and that none of you had any family.

You shook your head and walked away from the table, needing a minute to process everything. It was one thing to suspect how well they planned everything; it was another to see all their plans and researched laid out on a table in front of you. You ended up making your way over to one of the walls that had the largest painting of a werewolf, it was standing tall, it had dark grey fur, its arms rested at its side, but the black claws glinted in the moonlight, and its glowing yellow eyes stared down at you, with the moon being partially blocked by the beast standing so tall. Unlike the other paintings this one didn’t have any bodies around the werewolf, it was just the creature itself, standing tall and imposing.

You noticed a little golden plaque at the bottom of the painting. The plaque had the name ‘Edward Whalen’ etched into it. Underneath the name plaque was another one, this one was slightly bigger and has an inscription on it as well. You bent down to get a better view, your eyes scanned over it and learned Edward was a rather infamous werewolf a long time ago, he was the original leader of this pack, known to be the biggest and strongest of all the wolves. As you read on you learned Edward was slain by a hunter, who used a spear to kill him.

You looked down at the case and noticed a painting of the man who seemed to be the hunter. There was a knife and a few other items that looked like they would have belonged to that period of time. You looked to the right where there was another display case, this one talked about how the rest of the pack hunted down the hunter and killed him. You nodded, those were definitely his actual items in the other case. You looked up to see there was a large spear mounted to the wall next to the painting of Edward, the little gold plaque under it confirmed it was the spear the hunter had used to kill Edward.

“We need to get out of here,” Cody whispered. You nodded and followed Cody to a door you hoped led back out into the hall and not to another room.

You held your breath as you turned the doorknob and waited, listening for any sort of movement. You hadn’t heard anything since the floors creaked, you figured that was just the house settling, it was old, those types of homes made noises all the time. When you heard nothing you both slipped into the hall, staying back-to-back as you check both ends, making sure it was all clear. The two of you slowly made your way down the hall towards the other end of the mansion where you knew the garage was located. You both froze as you passed the main entry when you heard a howl. You waited and listened, it still seemed like the wolves were out in the woods.

You continued to make your way through the mansion, eventually getting to the garage. You opened the door, your eyes widened, as it was in fact, filled with four vehicles. The two vans all of you had been tossed in weren’t there, you weren’t sure where they kept those. The garage was filled with two large SUV’s and two large trucks.

“Which one?” you asked.

Cody shrugged and pointed to one of the trucks. While Cody dug through the little key box on the wall to search for the correct key set you ran around to the passenger side. As soon as Cody unlocked the truck, you hopped in, and Cody jumped in the driver’s seat a few seconds later. He hit the garage door button and began backing up before it was up all the way.

Cody whipped the truck around and began speeding down the driveway. Before you could hit the edge of the woods a large brown werewolf dropped down in front of you. Cody jerked the wheel, making the truck swerve, trying to avoid the werewolf. It was no use though, the werewolf jumped onto the hood, and smashed it’s clawed hand through the windshield. You pushed yourself against the door, trying to avoid the claws and smacked around for your knife until your hands finally wrapped around the hilt. You stabbed the knife through the creature’s palm, making it let out a pained howl. Cody jerked the wheel back and forth, trying to regain control until you slammed into a tree, pinning the werewolf between the truck and tree.

The werewolf arched its back, letting out another howl. Cody slammed his foot down on the gas, pushing the werewolf harder against the tree. “Gun!” he shouted.

You struggled but you lifted the shotgun and stuck it out of the newly shatter windshield, aiming it right at the creature’s head. You pulled the trigger, the kickback making you groan as it pushed you back against the seat. The werewolf’s head snapped back, both of you held your breath as you watched the blood and chunks of fur drop down onto the hood. The werewolf slowly lowered it’s head, acting as if half its face wasn’t blown off by the blast, and then then it let out a growl right in your faces. You raised the gun again and fired at his head once again. Its head snapped back again but it slowly lowered it and showed all its teeth as it snarled.

“Go!” Cody shouted, already opening his door as he bailed out of the car. You followed his lead, running around the truck as you reloaded the shotgun just as Cody showed you. The two of you could only stand there as the werewolf gripped both sides of the truck, its claws digging into the metal as it began to push the vehicle away. Your eyes widened; it was slowly rolling back, but it was only a matter of time before the werewolf was free, then two of you would be dead.

Cody raised his gun and began firing at the gas tank on the car. You saw a few bullets go into the car but only gasoline poured out, nothing caught on fire. “Fuck!” Cody said.

A large grey werewolf jumped into the bed of the truck. Both of you stumbled back, your eyes now on the newcomer. All of them probably heard the howls of the one pinned, it was only a matter of time before they all showed up. The grey wolf looked to the one pinned and you could swear its eyes darkened as it slowly turned its head towards the two of you and let out a snarl.

You reached around and grabbed one of the grenades strapped to you. You looked down at it, pulled the pin and threw it. The grenade landed in the bed, making the werewolf look down. A second later the grenade blew, the reaction causing the back of the truck to explode, the bit of gas that leaked onto the ground catching fire. The grey werewolf caught fire and was slashing around its claws, trying to put itself out. Almost instantly the fire traveled to the front of the truck and blew up, setting the wolf that was pinned on fire as well.

The two of you could only stand there as you watched the truck along with two werewolves burn. The one pinned to the tree eventually slumped forward and the one in the bed fell forward out of the truck. Both of them were left unmoving in burning heaping lumps of flesh. You felt Cody grabbing at you and you turned and ran back into the house where the garage door was still open.

As soon as you got back inside Cody closed the garage door again. You furrowed your brow; you figured you were just going to grab another vehicle. “We’ll never make it,” Cody said. “Not with them still out there,” he pointed towards the outside. “We need to kill them.”

You let out a humorless chuckle. “Did you not see what it took to kill those two?” you asked. “I shot one in the face, twice!”

“And fire worked!”

“There’s at least thirteen left.” Cody furrowed his brow, you just shrugged. There were fifteen people in the family portrait and now two of the werewolves were dead, assuming there weren’t others in the pack and the entire family was out there tonight that meant there were thirteen left. “How can we possibly kill all of them?”

“We need a big explosion.” Cody looked up; his mind looked like it was running a mile a minute as his eyes darted around the garage. “There!” he pointed to a few gas cannisters. “We can pour this around the house, then light it up and…” he made an exploding motion with his hands.

You nodded, blowing up the entire house with them inside would certainly work. At the very least it might weaken them enough that a shot gun to the head would kill them. “That only works if they’re all in the house,” you pointed out.

Cody nodded. “They had to have heard all that,” he gestured towards the outside again. “It’s only a matter of time before they come running.”

You nodded and the two of you got to work, knowing you wouldn’t have much time. You each took two gas cannisters and began walking towards the door. The doorknob started to move as soon as you approached it. You dropped the cannisters and slammed your body into the door, closing it on whoever was on the other side. You stayed like that for a moment, tilting your head as you listened for movement on the other side.

A hard forced slammed into the door pushing it open. You gritted your teeth as you pushed back trying to keep the beast at bay. You screamed at you felt something sharp pierce your side, you looked down to see your shirt torn and blood already beginning to soak through. You didn’t have time to dwell on it though because on the other side of you a claws had burst through the door. You saw Cody flinch, raising his hand to block the woodchips flying at him. You saw Cody’s eyes widen before you felt something sharp stab you in the shoulder.

You were pulled through the door and dragged through the hall. “No!” you heard Cody scream as you were dragged further away from him.

You kicked your feet trying to catch yourself on something. You tried punching back at the beast, but it only made it dig its teeth into you further. You reached down and felt the hilt of the smaller knife you had grabbed earlier. You brought the knife up, stabbing blindly until you heard the creature let out a whine, finally releasing its hold on you.

The wolf was whipping its head around and then suddenly an axe came down, slicing right through the top of the creature’s head. Blood gushed from the wound, dripping down on to you. You felt a hand grab you and yank you back to your feet. You saw Cody looking at you with concerned eyes. You jumped when you heard something flop to the ground, you looked down to see the werewolf dead, an axe sticking out of its head. You then noticed you had stabbed the knife right through its eye, you bent down and pulled it out, swiping the blood on your jeans.

“Oh god,” Cody whispered. You turned to see him looking you over. You let out a hiss when his finger brushed over the wound on your shoulder. “Sorry.” You looked over to see blood was now soaking through your shirt over your shoulder and through the tears you could see the puncture marks of where it dug its teeth into. “Are you okay?”

You looked up, meeting Cody’s eyes. You could feel your hair sticking to your forehead and your body suddenly felt much more exhausted than a moment ago. “I’m fine,” you brushed it off. “Let’s end this.”

Cody looked at you for a moment then reluctantly nodded. You followed him back to the garage and picked up your cannisters again. “I’ll take the upstairs,” Cody nodded to the staircase.

You nodded and picked up your cannister and began pouring. You started at the garage and made your way down the hallway. You made sure to open the rooms you passed and pour some gasoline in there as well, though you didn’t enter the rooms all the way. When you got to the staircase you saw them already soaked with gas. You looked up at the balcony to see Cody making his way down the hall.

“Hey,” Cody whispered. “Look for a lighter.”

You nodded and continued on your way down the hall. You sat the can down when you got to the kitchen. You had already ransacked the office, so you knew there was no lighter there, the only other logical place would be the kitchen. You entered the kitchen, slightly taken aback by how large it was, there was a dining room with a large wood table off to the left of it. You shook your head and began digging around until you finally came up with a lighter.

You smirked to yourself as you twirled the lighter around on your finger. When you looked up you were met with glowing yellow eyes staring back at you through the window. You dropped to the floor just as its arm shot through the window, shattering the glass. You flipped open the cabinet under the sink and dug through it until you found a cleaning spray. You slid to the side and stood up, you raised the spray can and pressed the top, spraying the werewolf in the face. It shook its head, but you raised the lighter, clicking it a few times until a flame appeared, instantly igniting the spray and creating a small flamethrower.

The werewolf backed away from the window, clawing at it’s face but you knew that wasn’t enough to kill it, it wasn’t even enough to catch it on fire. You didn’t waste time as you ran over and opened the oven. You turned the knobs on the stove, making sure to turn everything on but not ignite the gas. You then hit the button to start heating up the oven even though the door was open. You dug around through the drawers again and pulled out all the silverware you could get your hands around, you shoved it all in the microwave and shoved the cleaning spray in there as well and slammed the door shut.

The door that led outside burst open and the werewolf stomped in, standing on its hindlegs. You hit the popcorn button and ducked down, barely catching sight of the werewolf snapping its head in your direction. The werewolf stomped around the island, and you ducked out of the way, making your way out the door. You looked back to see the werewolf look at the microwave just as it began to spark and make a popping sound. You slammed the door shut and took cover. A second later there was a loud explosion and a howl of pain. What followed was another bigger explosion that blew the door apart, sending wood pieces raining down on you.

You pushed yourself off the floor and peaked your head back in the kitchen, seeing everything charred black, small fires still going on the wood surfaces, and a werewolf laying dead and burnt on the ground. You picked up the gasoline cannister again, silently thankful the explosion wasn’t big enough to ignite what you had already poured.

You made your way into the office and actually poured a trail of gas all around the room. You dumped some on the desk and tossed some on the family portrait. You then made your way into the history or trophy room and poured more gas all around the room. You made sure to toss gas on each and every single one of the paintings and a good amount on the table with the map and all the files on you and the others.

You stopped at the display with the spear one last time. You weren’t sure why, but you ripped the spear off the wall. You figured if the spear was actually used to kill a werewolf before then it would surely work again. You poured the remainer of the gas out as you entered the hallway again. You dropped the cannister when you heard Cody scream.

You ran to the entryway and saw Cody on the balcony with a large werewolf standing over him. The werewolf raised its paw and swiped Cody across the chest, making him let out another yell.

“Hey!” you called out, but the werewolf didn’t even look at you. You reached for the handgun Cody gave you and fired, aiming for any part of the werewolf you could hit.

The werewolf whipped it’s head around and glared down at you. It seemed to forget about Cody as it stood up on two legs and launched itself over the railing. You fell to the ground as the creature landed on top of you, dropping the spear in the process. You turned your head as the wolf roared in your face. You pinched your eyes shut, preparing for the tearing of your flesh to begin but it never came.

You slowly turned your head and opened your eyes to see the werewolf still above you, tilting its head as it stared down at you. You let out a shaky breath as the creature raised its paw and gently pulled back your collar with its claw. The werewolf leaned forward and took a good whiff. You weren’t sure why it hadn’t killed you yet, you searched its face, it opened its mouth in what you could only describe as a smile.

You fumbled around until you could wiggle the shot gun out from under you and slide it around to your front. You raised the shot gun up, pressing it under the werewolf’s head. It looked down at you, so the barrel of the gun was directly under its chin. You stared into its yellow eyes and pulled the trigger, sending chunks of werewolf raining down on you. Its body slumped to the side and your grip on the shotgun only tightened. You looked over to see it was in fact dead. You guessed that at such a close range the werewolf couldn’t survive having its head half blown off. You wiggled out from underneath the creature the rest of the way and grabbed the spear.

You whipped around when you heard Cody stumbling down the stairs. You caught him, wrapping an arm around his waist and one of his around your shoulder so he didn’t collapse. “We’re not done yet,” Cody said through gritted teeth. “Down there,” he pointed to one of the doors.

“Let me,” you said. “You’re too weak.”

Cody shook his head. “I’m fine.” He stumbled as he moved away from you and let out a long groan as he picked up his second cannister. He shuffled on his feet towards the door and opened it, revealing a staircase that descended down into the dark.

You rolled your eyes as you went and grabbed your second cannister. You knew there would be no arguing with Cody, you would just have to make sure he didn’t bleed out. You followed him down the stairs into the darkness, making sure to pour the gasoline as you made your descent. As soon as your feet his the ground you brought a hand to your nose, even the gasoline wasn’t strong enough to cover up the wretched scent that was the entire basement.

There were flickering lights lighting the way as you pour gasoline behind you. You bumped into Cody when he suddenly came to a stop. You turned around, your eyes widening at the sight of cages lining one side of the room. You weren’t sure how you didn’t hear them before but there were five wolves, each of them locked in a cage. They were pacing back and forth, snarling and snapping at you and Cody.

“Keep going,” you said, nodding at Cody.

He got to moving and you each poured more gasoline, making sure to toss some into the cells, watching as the locked-up werewolves flinched away and growled at the intrusion. You weren’t sure what made these werewolves different, why they were locked up if the others got to roam free. Assuming these five were part of the same family, you began counting in your head, by your math there were only five werewolves still running around somewhere.

A large force hit you, sending you flying back. You coughed as it knocked the wind out of you. You pushed yourself up on your forearms to see a large werewolf standing in front of you. “Hey!” Cody shouted and fired his shotgun at the back of the monster’s head.

The werewolf smacked its arm back, not even looking as it hit Cody, sending him flying into a brick wall. Cody slumped to the ground, his shotgun falling to his side. You had just begun to pull yourself to your feet when the werewolf turned around and dug its claws into Cody’s gut. Cody tried to let out a scream, but it was more of a cough as he began to gag and spit up blood.

“No!” you yelled. You didn’t even think as your grip around the spear tightened and you ran to Cody. You jumped, raising the spear high and shoved it through the werewolf back, impaling it through the heart, and coming out the other side.

The werewolves in the cells began to howl and throw themselves at the bars of their cages as the werewolf slumped forward. You dropped down next to Cody, pressing your hands to his wounds to try and stop the bleeding. Cody coughed again, spitting up more blood.

“You need to go,” Cody rasped out.

“No,” you said, shaking your head. “I’m not leaving you.”

Cody’s bloody hand dropped onto yours, making you look up at him. “I’m done.” Tears filled your eyes, and you shook your head, this couldn’t be the end, you almost made it, the two of you needed to make it out. “I can at least do this.” You furrowed your brow then you looked down when you felt his hand move, you followed his hand as he reached for a grenade.

“No,” you reached up, covering his hand holding the grenade.

“You have to go.” He blinked his eyes a few times, you could see how hard he was fighting to stay conscious. “This has to be worth it.” You buried your head in his chest and shook your head, this was exactly why you didn’t want to care about the others. “I’ll buy you as much time as I can.”

You looked up at Cody one more time before pulling away. “I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“Go,” he ordered, getting weaker with each breath. As soon as you started backing away, he pulled the pin from the grenade but didn’t let go of it, he couldn’t risk it blowing until you were out, and the remaining wolves were in the house. “Hey!” he yelled with a burst of energy. “I’m down here!” he lifted his handgun with his other hand, despite all the shaking he fired a few rounds, hitting one of the wolves in the cell, making them cry out.

You wiped your tears on your sleeve as you realized what he was doing. You ran across the room and hid on the side of the wall when you heard the pounding of something big running down the stairs. You pressed yourself against the wall as you watched one wolf run into the basement, then another, then another, then another. Four. There were now four wolves in the basement, the last ones left. You looked back just as Cody pointed his gun at the incoming wolves, firing more rounds, even though he knew it wouldn’t stop them.

You took the opportunity, knowing Cody was buying you as much time as he could to run up the stairs. You heard an explosion just as you reached the top of the stairs, you didn’t look back, you could feel the heat of the flames as the fire quickly spread. You burst out the front door, not bothering to close it behind you. You barely got away from the house before a bigger explosion happened, the force of it sending you flying further away from the house and into the grass.

You stumbled as you stood up again, watching as the entire mansion was ablaze. You could hear the cries of the remaining werewolves as they slowly burned alive. You reached for your wounded shoulder, not even flinching when your fingers brushed over where the wound should be. You pulled your collar down to see the bite mark was still there but had completely healed. Your eyes widened and you lifted your shirt, only to see the gash that you had gotten was also healed. You shook your head and turned away from the burning house, you couldn’t think about what this could possibly mean as you began your long walk down the driveway.

“Eventually I stumbled upon a gas station,” you said, blinking away the tears that had started to fall during your story. “There was a bathroom around back and used it to clean myself up. Jumped in the back of a pickup as it left the station.”

You looked over to see Joey nodding, seeming to process your story. “That’s how you became…” she said but unable to finish her sentence.

You nodded. “Tried to pretend everything was fine, acted like everything was normal, and it was normal, for about a month, until…”

“The full moon.”

You nodded. “I had no idea what was happening to me. I was walking home from work when…”

You stumbled out of the bar. You had gotten a job at a different place because even though you were only gone twenty-four hours, as you had suspected, your boss had replaced you. You didn’t know what was wrong as you gripped the edge of a dumpster, you felt like you were burning up and you had been irritable all day. Customers were always jerks but for some reason you seemed to have a short fuse today.

There was a pounding in your head, making you bring a hand to it, trying to ease the ache. You pulled your hand away when you felt something sharp scratch your scalp. Your eyes widened when you held your hand out and you saw claws where your fingernails should be. You pulled away from the dumpster when you saw that hand looked the exact same. You shook your head and ran down the alley.

“No, no, no,” you mumbled to yourself. “This can’t be happening.” You tripped as you tried to cross the road, your ankle snapping in a direction it wasn’t meant to go.

You pushed your way forward, dragging your broken angle with you as more of your bones snapped. You eventually made it to the closest bit of woods you could find and collapsed to your knees. You pressed your palms into the ground, your eyes watching as your claws dug into the dirt. “No!” your growled out, your back arching as it snapped, forcing you to look up directly at the full moon.

The werewolf that stood over you played through your mind, it had peeled back your shirt, it saw the bite healed, it knew. You had been bitten and now you were one of them. Tears streamed down your face as more of your bones broke and reformed until everything went black.

You groaned as you rolled over, slowly opening your eyes only to raise a hand to block the sun shining down on you. You were squinting as you tried to get your eyes to adjust, the last thing you remembered was leaving work. You looked down and scrunched your eyebrows at the sight of leaves and twigs under you. You brought a hand to your head, trying to remember what happened. Bones breaking flashed through your mind, you jolted backwards when you remembered your hands having claws.

You raised your hands to see they were back to normal, but they were covered in blood. You looked down, seeing the rest of your body was stained with dried blood. You shook your head as tears filled your eyes, you had hurt someone, you became one of those monsters and hurt someone. You collapsed forward, pressing your forehead into the ground as your fingers dug into the back of your head, you just wanted to wake up from this nightmare.

You froze when you heard the sound of a shotgun. You held your breath as you felt the barrel of the gun rest against the back of your head. You slowly lifted your head and came face to face with the barrel of the gun. Past the gun was a blonde woman, wearing jeans and a leather jacket, her eyes were unforgiving and trained on you.

“Please,” you whispered. Tears continued to fall from your eyes as you leaned forward, putting your forehead directly against the gun. “Please,” you pleaded as your body shook with sobs. You didn’t know who this woman was, but you wanted her to pull the trigger, you deserved it, you couldn’t live like this, you couldn’t hurt people like the monsters who hurt you. “Please.”

“That was Grace,” Joey concluded. You nodded, neither of you talked about that day but it never left your mind, you would never forget begging Grace to end it all. “But she didn’t shoot.”

You shook your head again, wiping away one of the tears that had started to fall. “Said she saw something in me,” you said with a little shrug. You still weren’t sure what made Grace save you, she had no reason to. She came across a monster covered in blood, and she should have put a bullet in their head, but she didn’t. “She took me in and said she’d help me.”

“And you’ve been with her ever since.”

You nodded. “I owe Grace everything,” you looked over at Joey. “She saved me.”

You suddenly stood up, wiping your eyes as you refused to look at Joey again. “Now you know,” you looked down at the floor. “That’s my story.” Joey still hadn’t said anything, and you weren’t sure you wanted her to, you weren’t sure you could handle whatever she had to say. “I’ll send Grace in; she can take you home.” You knew there was no way Joey would want to be alone in a car with you ever again.

You made your way across the room and rested your hand on the entryway as you glanced back, but not enough to actually look at Joey. “I understand you probably never want to see me again,” you cleared your throat, you couldn’t breakdown again. “But it was an honor working with you, anyone would be lucky to have you as an employee or a partner.” You quickly left the room, not waiting to see if she’d respond as you went to get Grace.

Taglist: @thinking1bee @so-to-aqui-pelas-fic @alexkolax @thatshyboy1998 @chxrry-lov3

@bella423 @morganismspam23 @pianogirl2121

#joey abigail #joey (abigail)#ana lucia cruz #ana lucia cruz abigail #joey (abigail) x reader #ana lucia cruz x reader #ana lucia cruz (joey)#melissa barrera #abigail movie #abigail 2024 #a beacon in the dark

118 notes · View notes