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reilemon · 6 months ago

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🌊Beneath the Abyss🌊

♡︎ synopsis: Lured by a haunting melody, you find yourself pulled into the depths of the sea, only to be saved by Rafayel, a mysterious merman.

♡︎ pairing: merman!Rafayel x fem!reader

♡︎ part 2 ♡︎

⭒˗ˏˋ𓆩 ⚠ 𓆪ˎˊ˗⭒MINORS DNI (18+ ONLY)⭒˗ˏˋ𓆩 ⚠ 𓆪ˎˊ˗⭒

♡︎ cw: depictions of (almost) drowning, mermaid au , semi-public seggs, oral (f!receiving)

♡︎ word count: 6.2k

♡︎ a/n: the second story for kinktober 2024. the beginning was very fun to write for someone with thalassophobia 🙂

♡︎ Thank you to my dearest friend and my beta reader ♡︎@its-de♡︎ for helping.

divider by @cafekitsune

Tonight is like any other night - where you sit on a wooden bench by the cliffside and read an old book. The sky is dark as ink, the stars distant and blinking slowly. The moon hangs low and casts a silvery light, illuminating the worn pages of your book. The sea is far below, its waves like whispers, soothing your thoughts as you read. Each wave crashes against the cliff’s base in a rhythmic hum. This place seems cold and unwelcome, but it’s yours. You’ve always come here, seeking solitude that only the night can offer. The dark doesn’t frighten you—it embraces you like an old friend. You feel safe here.

But then, it happens.

A sound, soft at first, like a breath carried on the wind, slips through the night. As it drifts closer, it wraps itself around your mind, around your soul. It’s a melody unlike anything you’ve ever heard—haunting, hypnotic, and achingly beautiful. It calls to something deep inside of you, and before you even realize what you’re doing, you’re standing, the book forgotten, your feet moving on their own.

The song grows stronger, tugging at you, pulling you toward the cliff's edge. You don’t resist. You can’t. The sea below crashing, dark and deep, but it no longer feels distant or dangerous. It feels inviting. The melody grows stronger, filling the air with its melancholic beauty. It’s not the sweetness of the song that unnerves you, but the way it seeps into your bones, like the sea pulling at the shore. You take another step, the rocks beneath your feet slick and uneven, but none of it matters now. Only the song matters.

And then—you fall.

The world tilts, and the sky spins above you as you plummet toward the water. Panic grips your chest, your heart racing as you crash into the icy depths. The cold is shocking, like needles through your lungs, and the once inviting sea now feels like it has you in its grasp, pulling you under. You thrash, desperate, your limbs sluggish as the water envelops your whole being. You open your mouth to scream, but no sound escapes—only bubbles rising to the surface.

You can’t believe this is happening. You’re going to drown.

Terror floods your veins as you sink deeper, your lungs burning, the black water pressing in from all sides. The song, the beautiful, irresistible song, has led you to this cold, watery grave.

You’re sinking into the deep. How could you let this happen to you?

But then, through the suffocating darkness, you see him.

A figure, a shadow, moving swiftly through the water. His form isn’t human, but sleek and graceful. His movements are too fluid, too fast. You blink, your vision fading as the last of your air escapes in a stream of bubbles.

For a brief moment, you think he’ll leave you to this terrible fate. But then, his hands, cool and firm, wrap around your waist, pulling you upward with a strength that feels effortless. His touch is strangely gentle as he propels you toward the surface, through the crushing weight of the sea.

You break through the surface with a gasp, sucking in air as your body shakes, your limbs still heavy and numb from the cold. His grip remains on you, guiding you through the water as he swims toward the shore. He brings you to a sheltered cove hidden from the world. Here, the water is calm, the sea’s roar softened to a murmur. He releases you gently onto the shore, your body trembling, your mind reeling from what just happened.

You lie there for a moment, catching your breath, your heart pounding in your chest. When you finally lift your head, you see him.

You can’t believe it. You sit in the sand, your breath ragged, lungs burning from the saltwater you swallowed, but your eyes—your eyes are locked on him. A figure not human, not entirely, but something out of stories you were told as a child. Stories you never believed. Myths, you always thought.

A merman.

The word seems impossible, heavy and foreign in your mind, yet he is there before you, dripping with seawater, his form half in the waves, half on the shore. His dusky purple hair clings to his forehead, eyes the color of shifting sunsets—blue fading into pink, hypnotic and unreal. His pale blue tail glistens under the moonlight, every shimmering scale catching the silver glow, moving with a grace that seems almost too smooth.

Are you hallucinating? You struggle to grasp at the fact what you're seeing is true. Mermaids were the stuff of stories, tales sailors told after too much drink, legends spun to explain away the strange sea. But now, here he is. A merman. He saved you.

You feel the weight of that thought settle in your chest—he saved you. Pulled you from the dark, icy depths. His hands had been firm around your waist, his strength undeniable as he swam you to safety, your body limp and helpless in his grip. The memory of it sends a shiver through you, a mixture of fear and awe. And now he is watching you with those strange, unreadable eyes. Your heart beats faster, not out of fear but something deeper—curiosity, wonder, gratitude. You don’t know how to feel.

“Thank you,” you manage to say, your voice hoarse and trembling.

He doesn’t respond, his gaze flickering as if trying to understand your words. He’s silent, but there’s something in his eyes—something that isn’t cold, something that isn’t indifferent. He’s saved you, and yet, you can see the hesitation and caution. His lips part, as if he wants to say something, but no words come. He seems frustrated, as though language is a barrier neither of you can cross.

Still, there’s a connection between you—fragile but real. You stand up and take a small step toward him, your eyes meeting his. He stares at you, taking in your wet form, the way your clothes cling to your body. There’s a flicker of something in his expression—something that looks almost like curiosity. But then, as quickly as it appeared, it’s gone.

As he slips back into the water, his eyes linger on you one last time, and without a word, he disappears beneath the surface. You realize then, with a strange certainty, that you’ll see him again. He may not have meant for you to be drawn into his world, but now, neither of you can escape it. You’ve crossed a threshold, and there’s no going back.

Tomorrow, you’ll return. You both will.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𓇼 ࣪ 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⋆｡𖦹 °. 𓇼

You arrive at the cove just as the sun begins to set, the sky turning into shades of amber and rose. What happened last night feels surreal. But the ache in your muscles tells you it was very much real. In your hand, you clutch a small gold bracelet. It’s a token, a simple gesture, but it feels like the least you can offer him for saving your life. You hope he’ll accept it.

You sit by the shore, the same place where he left you, eyes scanning the horizon. You don’t know how long you’ll wait, but something tells you he’ll come. And you don’t wait long.

The water stirs, a ripple moving across the surface. Your breath catches in your throat as you see him. He emerges from the depths with that same graceful ease, his scales glistening in the fading sunset. His eyes find yours, and for a moment, neither of you speak. You simply stare, caught in the same strange tension from the night before. He stays just out of reach, half-submerged in the shallow waters of the cove, watching you.

You shift towards him slowly, trying not to startle him this time. You hold up the bracelet. “For you.” your voice hesitant. You know he doesn’t understand the words, but maybe he’ll understand the gesture.

His gaze flickers to the bracelet, and slowly, cautiously, he moves closer. He raises one hand from the sea, fingers delicate, reaching toward the gift. His gaze never leaves yours as his fingers brush against the gold. You clasp it around his wrist gently, and a breath you’ve been holding leaves your lips. He stares at it for a moment, watching the way it catches the light. Then, he looks at you, his expression unreadable, but his guard... lowered. He doesn’t speak, but there’s a softness in his gaze now.

You smile, gesturing to yourself. “I’m...” You say your name slow and clear, hoping he’ll understand. You point again, repeating, “My name is...”

He watches you, brow furrowing in concentration. He lifts a hand, mimicking your gesture, pointing to himself. “Rafayel,” he says, and your heart skips a beat at the sound of his silky voice.

A smile tugs at your lips. You repeat his name, savoring the sound of it. It’s a small step, but it feels like a bridge between your worlds.

For the next few minutes, you try to teach him more. Simple words. “Water.” You gesture to the sea. “Sky.” You point to the sky. Each time, he watches you closely, though his lips struggle to form the words. He repeats after you, hesitant at first, but with growing confidence. It’s slow, but it’s something. You laugh softly when he stumbles over a word, and his lips twitch, just the slightest hint of amusement in return.

The moon starts to rise. You sit by the shore while Rafayel rests in the shallow water, his body half-submerged. The quiet between you feels comfortable now, no longer heavy with uncertainty. He watches you with a mix of curiosity and caution, his guard still there, but not as rigid.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𓇼 ࣪ 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⋆｡𖦹 °. 𓇼

You bring a book the next night, an old fairytale, the kind with simple words and enchanting stories. He’s there again and you sit together by the water, turning the pages. You point at the pictures, saying the words slowly, and he listens, repeating the ones he can manage. Each night, you bring another, reading to him in the soft glow of the moon. His words are broken, but he tries. He watches your lips when you speak, mimicking the movements, and each night, you get a little closer to understanding each other.

And as the days pass, something else shifts between you. His wariness fades, replaced by a playful curiosity. He teases you with small splashes of water, grinning at your surprised reactions. His hands linger when he helps you stand up, his touch growing bolder, more confident. You catch him staring sometimes, his eyes roaming your face, your body, with an intensity that sends warmth rushing through you.

You talk more now, not just with words but with gestures, shared looks, and smiles. He asks questions, his voice thick with the unfamiliar human language, but eager to learn. You tell him about your world, your life, and he listens, even if he doesn’t understand it all. And when he speaks of his world, you try to piece together the meaning from the few words he knows, from the way his hands move as if painting a picture.

And each night, as you leave the cove, there’s a part of you that doesn’t want to go. There’s a part of him, too, that lingers in the water, watching you with a look that makes you think he feels the same.

The gold bracelet still gleams on his wrist, a reminder of the night he saved your life.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𓇼 ࣪ 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⋆｡𖦹 °. 𓇼

Rafayel has always been wary of humans, but with you, he finds himself wanting to know more. There’s a softness in your eyes that eases him, a vulnerability that makes him open up, bit by bit. Each time you smile at him, something stirs in his chest, he can’t quite explain it. It’s different from anything he’s ever known. You’re not like the humans he’s been taught to avoid; there’s no malice, no threat in your presence.

Your beauty, though undeniable, isn’t what captivates him the most. It’s the way you see him. He is not a creature from the deep, something to be feared, but something - someone you want to know. And it confuses him—this growing need to be closer to you, to understand you, to touch you. He’s never felt this way before, and it scares him. But he can’t stay away. The more time he spends with you, the more he begins to desire your presence, the way you make him feel more alive.

The comfort of the cove has become a sanctuary for Rafayel and you. But tonight, something lingers in the air. You’ve been thinking about that first night—about the song that led you to the edge of the cliff. You turn to him, your voice soft but curious “That night, the song... were you the one singing it?”

Rafayel’s gaze hardens at the question, his eyes showing a mix of emotions. He doesn’t answer right away, and for a moment, you worry that you’ve overstepped. But then, his head dips, as if looking for the right words. He takes a breath, his voice low. “Song... not for you.” His eyes meet yours, and there’s something darker there now, something painful. “For sailors, bad men. Hurt... my kind.”

You feel the weight of his words. You’ve heard stories of sailors plundering the depths, but seeing the pain in Rafayel’s eyes—it feels real now. His hand reaches for yours. He explains, his voice thick with emotions he struggles to contain. “Revenge, for my kind. They come, take… kill. They don’t care. ”His fingers tighten slightly around yours, as if bracing himself for what he’s about to say next. “I... stop them. I sing, they follow.”

You realize then what his song was meant to do. It was a lure for the sailors, to drag them beneath the waves. The weight of that presses down on you, and yet, there’s no fear. Only sadness for the pain he’s carried. You swallow, trying to find the right words. “But... I wasn’t meant to hear it.”

He shakes his head, his grip on your hand softening, his voice quieter now. “No. You... not like them. You hear, but...” His brow furrows. “I... not want to hurt you.” The vulnerability in his voice catches you off guard. This creature, so powerful and full of vengeance, pulled you from the depths when he could have just let you drown.

You look at him. “I’m sorry.” you say softly, though you know it’s not enough. “I’m sorry for what they did to you. I didn’t know.”

His eyes soften, the darkness in them fading as he looks at you. “You... don’t need to know,” he murmurs. “You are... different.”

You squeeze his hand gently, offering what comfort you can. “I’m glad you didn’t let me drown.” you say, a soft smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

Rafayel smiles back and you see a glimmer of warmth in his eyes. “Me too.” he says quietly, his thumb brushing against the back of your hand.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𓇼 ࣪ 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⋆｡𖦹 °. 𓇼

The nights spent by the cove have become a routine. You sit with a fairytale book in your lap, your fingers tracing over the worn pages as you read aloud. Rafayel lies on his stomach, his body still, but his gaze is not. He watches you, ombre eyes tracing every movement of your lips, every flutter of lashes as you speak. You glance up from the book, catching the intensity of his stare. A playful smile tugs at your lips, and you pause mid-sentence. "What are you looking at?" you tease.

Rafayel’s brows furrow in concentration. He still struggles to find the words, but he gestures to his own face, then to yours. "You... beautiful."

The words catch you off guard, a blush peppering your cheeks. You are taken aback by his honesty. He says it so simply, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. Your heart skips a beat, but you brush it off with a soft laugh. “Thank you.”

He tilts his head with confusion in his eyes, as though he doesn’t understand why you would laugh. You shake your head, reaching out to rest your hand on his arm, feeling his cool skin. His body reacts instantly to your touch, a shiver running through him, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, his hand comes to rest over yours.

Each evening, the distance between slowly fades. Touches become more frequent, more intentional. A hand resting on his arm, fingers tracing his jaw, the way his tail brushes lightly against your leg as he moves closer.

One night, Rafayel’s curiosity takes a new turn. You’re sitting on the sand, the fabric of your flowy dress bunched up around your legs. His gaze lingers on the material that shifts with the breeze. He tilts his head, lips in a small pout. Then he reaches out, pointing at your legs, gesturing to the flowing fabric. “Why... clothes?” he asks.

You laugh softly. “Humans wear different clothing depending on the weather, or their style. And we wear shoes to protect our feet.”

At the mention of shoes, his eyes drop to your bare feet. He looks back at you, his lips parting as if to ask something, but hesitates.

"Do you want to touch them?" you ask.

His face lights up with a mix of curiosity and caution. He nods. You stretch your leg out toward him, offering your foot, and he reaches for it, his fingers brushing lightly over the arch. You smile, watching his face as he studies your foot with such focus that makes you chuckle. But then, his fingers accidentally graze a ticklish spot making you pull away from his grasp and laugh as a reflex.

He jerks his hand back, eyes wide with concern, but you shake your head quickly, still laughing. “It’s okay! You just tickled me.”

His expression softens into a playful one, and he does it again, deliberately this time. He watches as your body reacts, your foot flinching away from his mischievous hands, your laughter bubbling up again. You can see the spark in his eyes, the way his lips curl into that rare smile you’re starting to see more often.

Now your eyes trace pale blue tail that glimmers in the water. You can’t stop yourself from staring. You’ve wanted to touch it from the very first moment you saw him.

You take a deep breath. “Can I... touch your tail? It’s okay if you don’t wa - .”

He chuckles at your stammering and nods, easing your anxiety. He takes your hand in his, and lowers it onto his tail, around where knees would be. Your lips part in awe, feeling the cool, sleek texture of his scales beneath your fingertips. It’s smooth, almost silky.

You look up at him. “Your tail... it’s incredible.”

Rafayel’s lips twitch into a small smile, pleased by your fascination. He shifts his body, fully focusing on your legs again. His eyes travel up, towards the space between your thighs. He glances at your face, then back, as though trying to make sense of something. Slowly, he leans in, his head tilting as he peers under the hem of your dress, his curiosity as innocent as it is bold.

A flush of heat rises to your cheeks, scooting back and pressing your thighs together. "Uh, Rafayel..." you murmur, your voice catching.

He looks up at you, confused. You can tell he doesn’t fully understand what he’s done to make you flustered, but he’s aware of the shift in your energy. “What... there?” he asks, his voice uncertain, his hand motioning toward your dress.

You bite your lip, the blush deepening. There’s no hidden intent in his question—just pure curiosity, the same way he’d ask about the books or the language you’re teaching him. You take a shaky breath. “It’s... private,” you say, choosing your words carefully. “Humans have parts that are personal, and we usually keep them covered, especially around others.”

He nods slowly. His eyes go to your dress for just a moment before they return to yours. “Private,” he repeats, the word unfamiliar on his tongue, but he seems to grasp the meaning of it. You can see the restraint in him now, the way he pulls back slightly, giving you space.

In the quiet that follows, you smile at him, reaching out to touch his face lightly, your fingers brushing over his soft skin. “You’re learning quickly,” you say softly, and he leans into your touch, his eyes closing for just a moment. But now you have a question. Your heart races as you summon the courage to speak. "Rafayel..." you begin, your voice barely above a whisper. You swallow hard, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. "Where... where are your private parts?"

The words hang awkwardly between you, and you immediately regret it. Your body tenses as you brace for his reaction. Instead of laughing or brushing off the question, Rafayel’s expression softens with understanding. He lies on his back, glancing down at his sleek, muscled form. There’s a pause as he considers how to respond, his lips curving in a soft smile.

"They're hidden," he says quietly, pointing to the area right below his pelvis. "Beneath, for… when we need them."

You find yourself staring at the spot where he’s pointing. You bite your lip, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. His gaze is already on you, soft and unassuming, as if waiting for you to speak.

"So… how does it work?" you ask hesitantly.

Rafayel tilts his head, his brow furrowing slightly as he processes your words. "Work?" he repeats. He looks down at his tail, then back up at you. "You… want to know?"

The heat rises to your cheeks, and you glance away, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your dress. "I—I guess, yeah," you stammer. "I mean, you asked me, and I…" You trail off, embarrassed.

Rafayel’s lips quirk into a small, knowing smile, and his eyes soften at the sight of your flushed cheeks. Slowly, he speaks again. "I can… show?"

Your breath catches in your throat. The idea of him revealing that intimate part of himself makes your heart race. But before you can respond, Rafayel adds "If… I see yours too?"

Your hands tighten on the fabric of your dress, your mind racing. There's an openness in the way he asks, a genuine desire to understand you better. "You want to see mine?" you ask, your voice trembling just a little. Rafayel nods, his eyes flicking downward for just a second before meeting yours again. “Yes. You… show me. I… show you."

The tension hangs heavy between you, and for a moment, you both just sit there. You consider his words and finally, you nod. "Okay."

Rafayel hesitates for a moment, his eyes searching yours for permission one more time. With a slow nod from you, he shifts, moving just enough to give you a better view. The area he pointed at begins to part slightly, the scales pulling aside to show what is hidden. Your eyes widen as you catch the first glimpse of what lies underneath. The sight is mesmerizing, a beautiful hybrid of human and something entirely otherworldly. His member, long and thick, tapers slightly toward the tip. The texture is smooth with faint ridges along its surface. Your breath hitches as you notice how his arousal throbs gently, merging seamlessly with his aquatic form.

Rafayel watches you, how fascinated you are by this part of him. His lips quirk into a teasing smile, but a faint blush colors his cheeks. He’s aware of the tension of this moment, but there’s a playful, mischievous glint in his eyes as he tilts his head.

"You… stare long time," he teases, "You… like?"

Your breath catches as you meet Rafayel’s gaze, embarrassed for staring for so long. "Maybe," you admit with a shy smile.

Rafayel’s smile widens, his blush deepening. He glances down at himself, starting to feel bashful under your gaze, before his eyes return to yours. He shifts slightly, his hand moving to caress your cheek. His eyes move downward, toward the thin piece of clothing, then back to your face. You know it’s your turn.

The realization makes your palms clammy. Rafayel’s gaze never leaves yours, patient but full of expectation. And you want to match his vulnerability, to let him see you in the same way you’ve seen him. With a trembling hand, you reach under your dress, tugging down the bottom part of your swimsuit, his eyes following your every movement. Discarding the piece of clothing to the side, you lean back on your hands, spreading your legs.

Rafayel’s eyes widen as he stares at your exposed form, lingering on the soft skin between your thighs, on the slickness already gathering there. He looks mesmerized, his gaze flicking between your face and your body, as if he can’t decide where to focus.

"Can… I touch?" he asks, his fingers twitching with anticipation.

You nod, your heart racing. Slowly, his fingers brush against your inner thigh, cool and soft at first. His fingertips graze your entrance, and you let out a small gasp as a jolt of pleasure courses through you.

He pauses, glancing up at you with concern. “Hurt?”

You shake your head quickly, breathless. "No, no… that feels good," you assure him, your voice a little shaky. "But… if you keep touching me like that, I’ll get more… aroused." The honest answer makes your face flush even more.

Rafayel seems both intrigued and flustered by your response. Rafayel watches you closely, his fingers still resting gently against your slick entrance. He looks down, his breath catching as he feels the wetness coating his fingers. You can see his chest rising and falling as if he's trying to keep control of himself.

He glances back up at you. "Can I… touch more?"

The question takes you by surprise. This isn’t just curiosity or playful exploration anymore—this is crossing into something more intimate. You look at him, your breath catching in your throat. There’s a need that’s been growing inside him for so long—one he’s kept carefully in check, unsure if he could ask, unsure if this moment would ever come.

You feel a rush of warmth flood through you at the realization, and with a soft, shaky breath, you nod, guiding his hand a little higher. "Touch me… here," you whisper, your voice barely audible as you place his fingers on the sensitive nub just above your entrance. "This is… very sensitive. If you touch it the right way, it’ll feel incredible."

Rafayel’s breath hitches as his fingers move under your guidance. His touch is light at first, but as he watches your reaction—how your body tenses with pleasure—he grows bolder, circling the sensitive spot with slow, deliberate movements.

The sensations are overwhelming, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you with every stroke of his fingers. Your hips instinctively move, seeking more of his touch, and you can’t help the soft moans that escape your lips. Rafayel’s eyes are locked on you now, his breath coming faster, his arousal clear in the way his body tenses.

"Yes," you gasp, your hands gripping the fabric of your dress as you struggle to hold back the rising tide of pleasure. "Just like that…"

Your body is trembling now, shaky gasps leaving your lips, each stroke pulling you closer to the edge. He watches you intently, eyes wide with fascination. He’s studying every reaction, every sound you make. Your fingers dig into the sand, gripping tightly as the pressure builds inside you, a tight coil ready to snap. His touch is gentle but insistent, the perfect rhythm against your most sensitive spot, and it doesn’t take long before you feel that wave approaching. Your hips buck against his hand, and the pleasure becomes too much, too overwhelming to resist.

“Rafayel -” you moan, your voice shaky. Everything seems to blur as the intense pleasure crashes over you in waves, your thighs trembling, your back arching helplessly as you come. Rafayel watches in awe, mesmerized by the way your body reacts to his touch, his hand still gently moving over your clit, prolonging your release as you ride out every last wave of pleasure. Your chest heaves, breathless, the sensation so intense you can barely focus, your body still twitching from the aftershocks. But as the pleasure subsides, his curiosity hasn’t. His fingers, still slick from your release, hover near your entrance, and he glances up at you. His fingers brush against your wetness, lingering just on the edge.

“What… if I…” he trails off.

You’re still catching your breath, your body sensitive, but you manage a nod, giving him permission. He moves slowly, his fingers slipping inside you, cautiously exploring. His finger slides into you easily, your entrance wet from your orgasm, and you let out a soft gasp as he pushes deeper. When he adds a second finger, stretching you just a little more, a shiver runs down your spine, the fullness making you moan softly. His eyes flick up to yours again, watching your face for any sign of discomfort, but all he finds is more of that same pleasure, your hips gently rocking against his hand, guiding him.

And then, as he curls his fingers inside you, searching, he finds it—the spongy spot deep within that makes your body jolt with pleasure. You react immediately, a gasp escaping your lips as he presses against it.

“There,” you gasp, your voice breathless and needy. “Right there…”

Rafayel’s eyes light up, his fingers moving with more confidence now, curling and stroking that sensitive spot inside you. The pleasure is overwhelming, a different kind of ecstasy that makes you arch into his touch, your walls tightening around his fingers. Each movement makes your moans grow louder, more desperate.

Without warning, he leans down, his mouth hovering just above your clit. Then he presses his lips to the sensitive nub. The shock of his warm mouth against you makes you cry out, your hips jerking against him as the pleasure intensifies tenfold. His tongue flicks out, tasting you, and when he hears your moan, he repeats the motion. Your hands instinctively tangle in his hair, guiding him as his tongue moves over your clit, licking and sucking in perfect rhythm with the motion of his fingers inside you. The combination is almost too much, the sensations making you dizzy, your body on the verge of losing control.

Rafayel seems affected by your reactions, his own breathing heavy now, his face flushed. He’s learning fast, his fingers curling just right inside you, hitting that sensitive spot over and over, while his mouth works your clit with growing skill. Your hips move desperately against him, seeking more of the pleasure he’s giving you, unable to stop yourself.

And then, you feel it—the tight coil inside you, about to snap again, but this time it’s different. The pleasure so intense it’s almost unbearable. You can feel your muscles clenching around his fingers, wet sounds filling the air as your body responds to him.

“I can’t… I’m going to…” you gasp, but before you can finish, your orgasm crashes over you, more powerful than anything you’ve ever felt before, your body convulsing, your hips bucking wildly against his hand and mouth. A sudden gush of wetness escapes you, your release splashing against his fingers, your muscles spasm with the force of it.

Rafayel freezes for a moment, startled by the intensity of your release, but he doesn’t pull away. His fingers stay inside you, his mouth still working your clit as you ride out the most intense orgasm of your life.

As your release finally subsides, you collapse back against the sand, panting and spent, your body still tingling. Rafayel pulls back, his fingers slipping from your entrance, wet with your release. He looks up at you, awe and a hint of pride in his eyes, as if he can hardly believe what he’s just made you feel.

When you catch the sight of Rafayel’s face, glistening with the remnants of your release, a shy smile tugs at your lips. You reach out, brushing your thumb gently across his cheek, wiping away the wetness. Both of you share a soft, breathy chuckle. Rafayel, his gaze lingering on your lips, leans down slowly. His breath fans across your skin, and then, with a soft press, his lips meet yours. It’s gentle at first, but the moment your lips connect, something shifts. The kiss deepens, grows more urgent, as though all the pent-up desire comes to the surface.

Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, needing more of him. His lips move against yours, his tongue teasing yours, and you feel the weight of his body pressing against you. His tail shifts in the sand, positioning himself between your legs, his hardened member brushing against your thigh. The contact makes you moan into the kiss, and you both know where this is headed. It feels natural, like this is where you were always meant to end up, like the bond between you has been building toward this moment. Rafayel’s gaze locks onto yours, checking for any sign of hesitation. But all you offer him is a small nod, your body aching to feel him inside you.

He begins to push forward, slow and careful, the head of his throbbing member pressing against your wetness. You can feel the stretch as he starts to ease into you, your body accommodating his size. The sensation is intense, your walls fluttering around him as he gradually sinks deeper. His eyes never leave yours, his brow furrowed in concentration, his mouth slightly parted.

“You… okay?” he asks softly, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.

“Yes,” you gasp, your body trembling. “Don’t stop.”

Encouraged, Rafayel moves deeper. Rolling his hips, each thrust pushes him further, until he’s fully within you, his body pressed flush against yours. He stills for a moment, savoring the warmth of your body wrapped around him. His hand moves down to where your bodies are joined, his thumb finding your clit, pressing against it in slow circles. You moan, your hips instinctively bucking against his, the stimulation pushing you closer and closer to the edge again.

Every thrust brings him deeper, hitting that sweet spot inside you, and you can’t hold back any longer. Your orgasm crashes over you, more powerful than the last. Your walls clench tightly around him, drawing him deeper, and you cry out his name. Your entire body shudders with the force of your release. The feeling of you pulsing around him pushes Rafayel over the edge. His thrusts become erratic, his breath ragged. With a deep groan, he buries himself inside you, his body shaking as his own orgasm overtakes him.

As the last hints of pleasure fade from your bodies, the night air settles around you, cool and soothing against your flushed skin. Rafayel’s body remains pressed against yours, his chest rising and falling in rhythm with your own as he holds you close. Your legs are still tangled with his tail, the beautiful texture of his scales brushing against your thighs, grounding you in this moment.

Rafayel presses a tender kiss to your temple. His lips trail down to your cheek, then to the corner of your mouth, and you turn your head, meeting him in a soft, languid kiss. Neither of you speaks for a long moment, simply resting in the aftermath. Rafayel shifts slightly, easing out of you carefully, and you can’t help but shiver at the loss of connection. He watches your face for any sign of discomfort, but all you offer him is a lazy smile.

A faint blush lingers on his cheeks, and his lips curve into a small, sheepish smile. "You not hurt?"

You laugh softly, shaking your head. "No," you reply, your voice gentle. "Not at all. That was… wonderful."

He exhales in relief and chuckles softly. "Good."

You move to rest your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. He wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer, as if he can’t bear to let go just yet.

Then, after a few moments, you both start to chuckle, the sound light and easy. "I… didn’t think this would happen," you admit with a smile. "Not like this. Not tonight."

Rafayel hums in agreement. "You… so different. So... human," he adds with a playful smirk, but his tone softens. "And yet…"

You smile, lifting your head slightly to meet his gaze, finishing for him. "And yet, it feels right." Rafayel’s lips curve into a slow, gentle smile, and he leans down, his breath warm against your skin as he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. "Yes," he whispers. "It… feels right."

For a long time, you simply lie there together, wrapped in each other’s arms, your bodies warm and comfortable against the cool night air. Rafayel’s fingers continue to caress your skin, his touch tender and slow.

"Stay close," he whispers after a while, his voice barely audible, as if he’s speaking to himself, as if the thought of distance—any distance—is unbearable. His arms tighten around you, his embrace full of warmth and need.

You smile against his chest, nuzzling closer. "I’m not going anywhere," you murmur back. And you mean it. Whatever comes next, you’ll face it together.

#love and deepspace #rafayel love and deepspace #love and deepspace smut #love and deepspace rafayel #rafayel smut #lads smut #lads x reader #lads rafayel #rafayel x reader #rafayel x you #kinktober 2024 #kinktober

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coffee-and-geto · 4 months ago

Text

“YOU WOULDN’T LIKE ME WHEN I’M HUNGRY!”

“Just warm? I thought you meant I was hot, hot.” “Hot, hot?” “Yeah, I guess I’m a handsome guy, am I not?” You snort. “And so full of yourself.”

pairing: werewolf! satoru gojo x f!reader | kinkoctober

summary: since you were kid, you’ve been friends with satoru gojo. having grown up in the same village, it’s perfectly normal to meet up, laugh in front of a campfire and reminisce about the good old days, isn’t it? not the place or the time to confess your true nature, hmm?

warnings: +18 only, smut, nsfw, childhood friends to lovers, both lived in a small village, firecamp mood, sex (p in v), fingering (f!receiving), doggy style, handjob, bredding kink, full moon, nipple play, dirty talk, talking about being parents, fluff, (if you wanna picture werewolf like it’s same as jacob in twilight).

wc: 3,568

“I’m a werewolf.”

Those words, whispered in the silent night — or almost silent. Unless you count the cicadas’ songs that break the inaudible, sacred stillness of the dark. Under a sky where stars shimmer and the village campfire is the main source of light, casting a fiery glow in Satoru's eyes as he looks at you.

The dry, earthy ground, the scent of pine trees, roasted marshmallows, and the laughter of other young villagers — all back for the famous autumn full moon.

And you, sitting beside your childhood friend — Satoru Gojo.

Who utters words you never thought you’d hear from him, whispered without a care about being overheard. His azure gaze fixed on yours, as though searching the depths of your soul for any reaction besides your obvious shock.

With his hands pressed against the dry ground, his long legs stretched out, his torso turned toward you — every ounce of his attention captivated by you and only you.

As it always has been, hasn’t it?

And out of all the things he could have confessed, this declaration is what passes through his lips, cutting short your laughter and turning it into a gasp.

Then nothing. Silence.

“You— Satoru, what?”

And oh, how he could have fallen for that little frown of yours, so confused, so lost, so utterly adorable.

But he doesn’t repeat his words. He just watches you, lips flat but eyes replacing the smile you knew so well. The glow of the flames licking the campfire’s wood casts orange hues across his face like a phantom’s shadow.

Swallowing hard at his lack of reaction, you glance around, disoriented — your village, your family, your friends, your neighbors. No one seems the least bit troubled, nor does it seem like they’re paying attention to your conversation.

“Sweetheart.”

The nickname makes your panicked heart swell, and Satoru gently anticipates your next move. His rough, warm hand rests over yours, silently asking you not to worry.

“I always thought you’d figure it out on your own one day,” he murmurs.

“What do you mean?” you reply, and he can’t help but chuckle — a low, rumbling sound that almost seems wolfish.

“All the stories since we were kids.” He pauses, giving you time to process. “Our parents told us, and it’s also the history of the village.”

“A story is just a story, Satoru.” You pull your hand from his and prepare to stand up.

Enough with the tasteless jokes.

“This isn’t funny.” And his little heart breaks, because he hates the annoyed tone you take, though he still tries to salvage the situation.

Why the hell did he blurt it out like that?

“Wait, sweetheart,” Satoru pleads, his voice low and husky. His large, warm hand gently catches yours, urging you to sit back down. But as you persist in pulling away, he ends up confessing in desperation, “Am I disgusting to you?”

This time, it’s not the night’s silence that overwhelms you but Satoru’s puppy-dog eyes. Like he’s afraid you’ll walk away from him forever.

“Disgusting? Satoru…” You pinch the bridge of your nose and sigh. “You know I hate your jokes, and—”

“I’m not lying.” He presses his hand desperately over yours, tugging slightly to make you sit down again. “Do you want me to show you?”

Your eyes widen. “Excuse me? Here? In front of everyone?”

“Everyone already knows. You’re the only one blind to it,” Satoru breathes, standing gracefully without ever letting go of your hand.

“What are you even talking about? And where are you taking me?” you protest, stiffening your legs so he won’t drag you away. But he only chuckles softly, turns toward you, and suddenly hoists you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes (yes, really — nothing more, nothing less).

Only a chuckle answers your protests as you weakly pound your fists against his perfectly sculpted back under his white t-shirt, hiding so much more beneath.

“Satoru fucking Gojo!”

“Hmm, so Satoru is gay and he fucks Gojo?” He bursts into laughter at his own joke, tightening his grip to keep you from falling as he carries you further into the forest of tall pines that have watched you both grow up.

Yet you persist, thrashing about to make him let go — but in vain.

He walks surprisingly fast, as if guided by some instinct, knowing exactly where he’s going. Or maybe he’s been here countless times when you weren’t around — or when you were asleep?

When he finally stops, Satoru carefully sets you down and presses his lips together to stifle his laughter at the sight of your disheveled hair and utterly defeated expression.

Heat rises to your cheeks as you turn your back on him, trying to fix your hair. Your gaze lands on the river running through the forest, its surface shimmering under the moonlight tonight.

Lips press a kiss to your cheek, and you shove Satoru away as he laughs, delighted by your tomato-red face.

“Stop it.” You punch his chest, though he doesn’t budge an inch.

It’s like hitting solid concrete — only slightly softer.

He takes advantage of your moment of confusion to step back and peel off his t-shirt, revealing his muscular chest, pale skin, and far-too-defined V-line.

Your eyes dart away from the sight he’s offering, one even the moon seems to embellish with its rays. But then the sound of a belt buckle clicking open makes your eyes widen.

“Satoru, don’t you dare—”

“Relax, I just don’t want to tear my clothes while transforming. How else am I supposed to get back home after?” He chuckles, giving you time to turn around and offer him some privacy.

You can feel his damned smirk, but you swallow down yet another sharp retort.

It’s always been like this with him. He’d tease you, you’d say you didn’t like it, and then chase him around while convincing yourself it wasn’t funny — ignoring the laughter that always bubbled in your chest.

At school, it was the same story. You were practically glued to each other, one always with the other. A constant war between two friends competing over anything and everything. Who would leave the haunted house first, who would blink first, or who could sleep without a nightlight after yet another story about the village’s werewolves.

Since you were kids, you hardly ever kept secrets from one another.

So why does this unpleasant sound of bones cracking and flesh tearing behind you feel both so new and so familiar?

Has Satoru always carried this secret within himself when you spent your evenings together watching movies? Had he tried to tell you, leaving hints for you to eventually uncover the truth?

All those times he managed to climb impossible places no ordinary human could, or when he walked past you and, with one sniff, could tell if you’d changed shampoo?

Or how he seemed to turn into your personal bodyguard at least once a month, and anyone who dared hurt you ended up with a broken limb?

Since middle school, he had always seemed more mature despite his jokester nature. And his physique — how drastically it had changed when he turned 18. If it hadn’t been for the Satoru you knew, you would never have guessed that back then, he was just a young adult.

And now in college, the two of you seemed like proper adults.

Real, young adults, still friends.

Even if kissing your friend on the cheek isn’t exactly common?

Even if sleeping in the same bed with nothing but cuddles and hugs isn’t normal?

Even if you’d both seen each other practically naked under the right circumstances without either of you daring to ogle the other?

A bark snaps you out of your thoughts, and you turn around with a start.

Standing before you is a massive wolf-dog with snow-white fur tinged with silvery hues, and cerulean blue eyes piercing through the forest's shadowy darkness.

You freeze in place, staring at the creature before you. It is both majestic and terrifying.

“Satoru?”

The white wolf barks and rushes toward you, affectionately nuzzling his nose against your stomach before moving up to lick your chin. If it weren’t for his sheer size, he might’ve been mistaken for a puppy.

A tender smile spreads across your lips, and you stroke Satoru’s head, his fur so soft and cool you can’t resist planting a small kiss on it.

“You’re gorgeous.” Another kiss on his snout earns a bark that sounds like joy. “And so cute, and so big, I’d hold you like a plushie all the time if I could.”

He lets out a soft growl against you, lifting his front paws to rest them on your shoulders. In the background, his bushy white tail wags happily.

You cup his face in your hands, noticing the glint of his sharp teeth as he opens his mouth slightly.

“You’re not scary,” you coo, kissing the top of his head, and he squeals in appreciation. “And you’re not disgusting at all, I swear.”

He barks happily once more before bounding away, running around wildly before stopping to howl at the moon.

The sound is so powerful that a shiver runs down your spine.

~~~~

Back in the village, Satoru is already back in his normal form, and you scream in terror when you find him standing completely naked in front of you, a mischievous smile playing on his lips before he puts on the clothes he had tossed onto a fallen tree trunk.

No one seems to notice that you’ve just witnessed a werewolf transformation. According to Satoru, it’s simply because you haven’t realized that nearly half the male population of the village shares the same condition.

On this full moon night, new werewolves are being initiated, others are transforming just for fun like Satoru (since it’s the only time he can do it freely without going mad for the rest of the month while waiting for the next full moon), while some are engaging in reproduction.

Because, as he tells you, a full moon means mating season for werewolves.

But tired of it all, you head back home, with Satoru following closely behind—where no one will return for quite some time.

You collapse onto your bed, immediately curling up under the blanket before scooting over to make space for Satoru.

He doesn’t waste any time.

He slides in beside you, wrapping his strong arms around you to warm you with his naturally higher-than-average body temperature.

“You’re going to be useful in the winter,” you giggle, closing your eyes with a smile, your back pressed firmly against Satoru’s warm chest.

“I’m pretty hot, huh?” he murmurs into your hair, placing a welcome kiss there. No need to wonder what he means anymore, right?

“Mh-hmm,” you hum. “Like a warm comforter.”

Satoru frowns. “Just warm? I thought you meant I was hot, hot.”

“Hot, hot?”

“Yeah, I guess I’m a handsome guy, am I not?”

You snort. “And so full of yourself.”

His embrace tightens around you, and he grazes his lips against the shell of your ear. “Am I?”

“Admit that you aren’t just hot in both ways,” you mutter.

“Because there is a third?” he asks, his breath tickling you.

“Don’t act innocent.”

He settles his head fully onto the pillow, the moonlight filtering through your window caressing his flawless face. “Never said I was.”

And he chuckles when you huff.

Then he returns to his original position, pulling you closer to his chest before gently running his hand along your forearm. His touch is warm, inviting, mischievous—yet affectionate, asking for nothing but a little more closeness.

You sigh, closing your eyes, slightly parting your lips as you let the back of your head rest against his neck.

He takes advantage of your vulnerable position, sliding his arm around your waist and closing any remaining space between you. His thumb traces slow, soft, patient circles over your stomach. Each motion makes you crave more.

So you shift slightly, freeing your torso to give him access to your neck, where his warm, steady breath teases your skin. He must feel it by now—the way your heart races in your chest, how your breathing grows quicker, shallower.

And Satoru, in his sly delight, doesn’t react more than you desire.

He simply lowers his nose to the hollow of your neck and shoulder, brushing his lips against your skin, resisting the primal urge to claim you as his. To mark you as his own.

So you move again, giving him full access to mark your bare neck or shoulder, your ass pressed firmly against him, wriggling just a bit to adjust—or perhaps not.

Satoru presses his lips together as he feels a surge and a quickening heartbeat in his pants, blood rushing to the area. Giving in, he sinks his mouth onto your neck, planting open-mouthed kisses, the wet, noisy sounds of his lips against your skin sending shivers of pleasure through you.

You press yourself impossibly closer to him, guiding one of his large hands to your breast. Your back arches so deliciously against him as he cups the soft mound in his palm.

Between the kisses that turn into hickeys along your trapezius and his hands kneading your breast, teasing your hard nipples, you reach for his other hand with a soft whimper and guide it under your shorts.

He doesn’t waste a second, his already warm hand finding its way to your already puffy clit. He rubs slow, torturous circles, spreading your wetness over it to make things easier. You are now reduced to shallow pants and lewd, adorable noises.

“F-Fuck, Toru,” you whisper, looking up at him with pleading eyes.

“Let it go, sweetheart,” he murmurs, toying with your intimate area, using his middle finger to spread your lower lips and gently pat your drenched entrance, the tight little ring of resistance testing his patience. “Will you let me take care of you?”

You nod, your eyes fluttering shut as you moan his name again when he breaches the soft, wet resistance of your entrance. His middle finger slips inside you, gently parting your walls as he seeks out that one sweet spot that makes your toes curl.

When he finds it, he rubs it gently, drawing gasps from you while his forefinger plays with your clit, his other hand busy tugging and twisting your nipples under your shirt. He bites down on your neck, slurping your soft skin before pumping his finger into you.

“Feels good?” he asks in a hoarse voice. The sound of him like this — taking care of you while pressing his hardness against your ass — is almost as good as what he’s doing to your body. You squirm against him, relishing the way your movements draw a throb from his length. It feels like he’s about to cum in his pants.

“Such a tease, hmm? Didn’t know this side of you,” he whispers into your ear, sliding a second finger inside you. He thrusts both digits knuckle-deep, curling them perfectly.

You mewl, letting him feel your walls tightening and clenching around his fingers every time he brushes your sweet spot. The slick, wet sounds of your arousal make him groan — did you just throb?

“Close,” you warn, your body folding as the knot in your stomach tightens, teetering on the edge of release. You wince, struggling to control your shallow breaths as your orgasm approaches. “Please, Toru.”

“Cum, baby, cum,” he coaxes, his voice soft and encouraging as he thrusts his fingers deeper into you. His grip tightens on your breast, and his fingers work your clit with relentless precision.

A second later, you come undone, cumming hard on his fingers. Your walls spasm around them, coating them in your warm juices. You bury your face in the pillow, gasping for air as the pleasure courses through you.

Satoru carefully withdraws his fingers, bringing them to his mouth to taste you. “Hmm, tastes as good as I thought you would,” he hums.

“You thought?” you repeat, your voice feeble.

“I never said I was innocent,” he says, echoing his earlier words with a smirk.

“You thought about how I’d taste?” you ask, raising an eyebrow with a skeptical pout.

“Not exactly that dirty, but…” he presses a soft kiss to your temple, “Can you blame me?”

You chuckle softly, sliding your shorts and soaked panties off under the blanket, your thighs damp with sweat and slick. As you shift, Satoru pinches the soft flesh of your rear.

“Didn’t you say tonight was the werewolves’ breeding night?” you tease, a smirk playing on your lips. The mere sight makes him want to cum in his pants.

“Would you let me?”

“I’m just waiting for you,” you say, blowing out a breath.

At those words, he wastes no time, undoing his belt and sliding his pants and boxers down. A damp spot betrays how hard and ready he is, his tip already leaking.

You reach out, wrapping your hand around his flushed, twitching length. It jumps slightly as you stroke him gently, a naughty smile playing on your lips — a sight that nearly drives him wild. You lower your head, giving him a perfect view of your bare ass as you tease him.

Each stroke of your hand makes him bite his lip harder, suppressing a moan. He’s trying to stay composed — he’s a man, after all.

But when you guide his shaft to your swollen lips, rubbing his reddened tip back and forth against your slick entrance, it nearly breaks him. You coat his mushroom tip with your cum, then press it against your tight, dripping hole.

Satoru exhales a trembling sigh, gripping your hips as if to ground himself. His fingers tighten, promising marks that will bloom later on your skin.

“Lemme fuck you, please, sweetheart,” he groans, his voice desperate as he struggles not to buck his hips into you.

And you smile. Such a naughty girl.

You sit up, slipping off your top to feel freer, and then position yourself on all fours, lifting your hips to give him full access to your dripping pussy, which aches to be filled.

You giggle softly, wiggling your hips, burying your face into the pillow.

Satoru takes it as an invitation. He positions himself at your entrance, stroking himself a few times before sliding into you. The stretch is delicious, like something out of a dream.

Your whimpers fill the room, rising into melodic, lewd moans — music to his ears.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Satoru hisses, gripping your hips to pull you closer, sliding his cock all the way inside until his tip kisses your womb. When he bottoms out, he knows it.

Even though he’s on the verge of cumming, Satoru wants to make sure you cum with him — to breed you thoroughly. His babies. Making you a mom.

The thought makes his thrusts gentle at first, letting you adjust to his size. But when you push your hips back and babble for him to fuck you for real…

He snaps.

He’s pounding into you, his heavy balls slapping against your clit, adding to the obscene wet sounds filling the room. Your ass meets his hips again and again, your walls gripping him tighter each time he withdraws, only to pull him back in harder.

It’s not just your bodies syncing but your hearts too. Breathless pants, gasps, pleading moans, and filthy whispers intertwine, creating something sacred between you.

“Toru, ah, please, deeper,” you whine, your hands gripping the sheets as he fucks you so perfectly.

“Deeper?” he repeats, his voice teasing as he grabs your hair gently, pulling your head back to arch your spine. It gives him even better access to the sweet spot he intends to flood with his seed. “You want me to be a daddy? And you a mommy? Cute little werewolf babies?”

“Fuck,” you moan, clenching tighter around him. “I want it. I want to be full of your cum and have babies.”

“So good, so tight,” he groans, his thrusts relentless. “Promise. You’re mine, remember?” But your nod isn’t enough for him. “Say it, sweetheart.”

“I’m yours, I’m all yours, Toru,” you sob, tears streaming as you teeter on the edge. “I-I’m close,” you babble, your hips moving in tandem with his.

Satoru leans over you, his chest pressing against your arched back. His cock twitches as he growls, “Gonna take my load? Gonna cum so fucking much, yeah?”

One final thrust sends you both spiraling.

You cum hard, clenching so tightly around him that it’s a miracle his length fits inside you. He fills you with his warm seed, so much that it spills out in thick spurts.

Heartbeats pounding, breaths ragged, Satoru softens inside you, slowly pulling out. He kneels to watch the mix of your juices and his spill from your stretched hole.

He slides two fingers back in, gently pushing his seed back inside. “Need it to stay here,” he murmurs, patting your ass and pressing a kiss to your back. “Wanna go back to the village later?” Satoru asks.

You shake your head. “Just stay with me. With the future mother of your children.”

“Hmm, I think I can get used to this. Or maybe ‘wife’ is a better title?” He collapses beside you, a tired but peaceful smile on his face.

“Husband too,” you whisper, your voice filled with warmth.

a/n: thank you guys to have read this silly fic <3 on my period rn and it sucks but anyway. lot of tests coming so i think the stress is the reason haha. this time i don’t have a lot to say, just that writing about satoru is the best thing lol. some memes about wolves come to my mind i just wanna add them somewhere lmao

like and reblogs are always appreciated as comments <33

tags: @ssetsuka @zara-zara11 @bearwithmoo @elliesndg @lymsfm @mutsu422 @elliesndg

@drippymcdrippison @koshhin @v31v3t @wawuwe @cybersomniq @sanemistar

@monokaix

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pirateprincessblog · 1 year ago

Text

Killer Eyes

𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫.: when a lowly prisoner's eyes meet the ones of a kind young woman, his heart fills with a will to live again

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: song mingi x fem!reader, ft jeong yunho (not a love interest)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 12.4k

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: smut, angst, prisoner!mingi, prisondoctor!reader, prison theme

𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: masturbation, body worshipping, praising, size kink, possessive kink, marking, v-card loss, fingering, squirting, creampie

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: self h*rming, attempted s*icide, bullying, violence, swearing, r*pe mentions, unprotected sex

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: oh how i love angst and cliffhangers. also, the reader is not actually pictured as someone tiny or small, it's just the way mingi views her because of her kind nature.

check out sequel HERE

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲.

it wasn't fair how slow the sun and the moon chased each other. how slow the shadows of the cold metal bars moved on the dusty floor. perhaps it was on purpose. perhaps it was their way of making fun of him. as if they knew just how long he was going to be a cuffed man, and they decided to make it just a little longer.

song mingi sat on his bed. the mattress was heavy from dust, dead skin cells and sweat. it smelled horrible, and whenever mingi would get the privilege of taking a shower, he would rather sleep on the floor, so he can feel cleaner. the floor was swept regularly, yet the smelly old mattress stayed the same.

mingi stared at a can of coke a fellow prisoner had smuggled him. it was empty, the sweet burning of the beverage running down his throat and getting rid of the summer heat for a while. now, his attention was on the cap. he has removed it, the small item ripping a part of the can and leaving it very sharp and dangerous. he played with it, spinning it between his fingers. little by little, he worked up the courage.

he brought the cap to his wrist, the metal cutting in like a knife in soft butter. he yanks it, ripping his skin apart and dripping red liquid down his hand and into his palm. he shook, watching the beads stain the floor. another one, then another one. tears roll down his cheeks, mixing with sweat and dust.

"fuck!" he yells, standing up and banging his head on the wall.

nobody understood. nobody knew what he knew. everybody held him accountable, but nobody knew why he did what he did. as if it was easy to have his hands stained with someone's blood, to have his sister stare at him with horror, to have his body dragged over the floor all the way to the police car, tears and blood dripping down his face. none of it was easy, but if he found himself in that situation again, he would do the same. it was the only way to save her.

loud thuds echoed in the room, startling the man and making him crawl to the corner. he sat, knees firmly pressed against his chest, and body shaking as he sobbed. the knocking on the door doesn't stop, and neither does the blood pooling on the ground.

"do i really need to come in today? you didn't have enough yesterday?"

at the mention of yesterday, mingi clenched his back. the cuts and bruises are still open, untreated, and probably infected. he spent the night pressed against the cold wall, in hopes to help relieve the pain.

the thumping stops, and mingi hears rattling, multiple keys turning, then finally, a familiar creak of the door opening. freshly polished black boots step into the dusty room. mingi has nightmares about those very same boots.

"stand up."

the man on the floor stills, sobs stopping for a moment. he comes to a realisation. yesterday's torture was going to happen again. and today, it might be the end of him.

"what are you, fucking deaf? stand up!" his voice roars, bouncing off the walls and travelling to mingi's already sensitive ears.

he sits still, vision blurry with upcoming tears. the boots take a few steps towards the man, stopping right before him. the guard sighs, then turns around. just when mingi wanted to sigh in relief, the boots are headed his way again, this time one of them aimed for his face. the pointy part of it hits mingi in the jaw, throwing his head against the wall.

"fucking rapist, murderer, manipulator, playing victim games with me?!" with each word, the guard proceeded to kick, punch and slap the man, taking great satisfaction in seeing blood drip down his face.

he pulls his hair, dragging his body across the dusty floor, until he is near the bed. the guard positions the man on his knees, back turned towards him, and head buried in the mattress.

"stop, stop!" mingi begs, gripping at the bed sheets stained with fresh blood and tears.

the fabric is ripped from mingi's body, exposing his massacred body to the one that massacred it. a finger trails down his spine, then suddenly, goes a different path. a deep scream leaves mingi's throat, his nails and teeth ripping the sheets apart, as the guard's finger dips into his wound, picking at it.

"stop, stop, stop!" he groans, mouth foaming from anger and pain.

"excuse me, what is going on here?"

a gasp, a cracking sound, and a scream later, mingi finally gets a second of peace. his teeth let go of the sheets, face relaxing into the somewhat soft surface.

"oh, doctor, please. don't you worry about it."

"that man needs help!"

"this man has his assigned doctor. besides, a newbie like you cannot handle a psychopath like him. you're better off with thieves."

"help"

his voice comes out raspy, tired and painful. he hoped that the person at the door would show mercy, and do as little as distract the guard for a while.

"i'm calling help, mr barnes."

"you do that and i'll smash your head right between this iron door and this stone wall."

mingi's vision is dark, his body collapsing from weakness. he lets go of the sheets, falling on his back and taking in his surroundings one more time. when his eyes land on the figure whose voice he heard today for the first time in his life, he is glad that you're the last thing he sees.

you're furious. you can't believe what this place has allowed to happen. judging by all of those wounds, this isn't the first time. and something tells you it won't be the last one either.

you are told to not sympathize with prisoners, they'll use you as a way out of this place. but how can you not sympathize, seeing the poor man covered in blood and scars, suffering new ones right in front of you? has anyone cleaned those wounds? washed up the blood from his body? assured him that it won't happen again? then did something to make it not happen again?

"i want a patient change."

"prisoner change, you mean?" the supervisor doesn't lift his eyes from the scattered papers on his desk.

"he's a human before everything, sir."

the man throws the pile of papers on his desk, letting out an exhausted huff. you're amazing at what you do, that he knows. but he also knows just how stubborn you are. and he has no patience to compete with you today.

"him being a human doesn't excuse the reasons why he's here, no?"

"i'm just a doctor–"

"–s assistant, yes." he finishes, giving you a tight smile. he stands up, his hands finding comfort in the pockets of the perfectly ironed suit pants. he stops right before you, looking at you as if you're not close to evaporating from anger right there in front of him. "mind your business, love. otherwise, you'll become a marionette in the hands of those criminals. inhumans."

"i am but just a doc–" you try again. a finger finds its way on your lips, catching you off guard and shutting you down.

"then act like it."

he turns on his heel, and in a short moment, he is back in his seat.

"jeong yunho!" your voice betrays you, and you immediately cover your mouth.

at the mention of his full name, he drops the papers once again. the chair falls back when he stands up again, this time marching towards you with a look that you know means trouble. he has you pressed against the wall, body hovering just a little above the ground. he is shaking, the angry veins on his neck popping and warning you to be quiet.

"sister dear, please, follow my instructions so you don't get yourself killed." he says through his teeth. you cough, your hands desperately trying to move his from your neck. "i don't want you to get involved with that part of this building. understood?"

you struggle to answer, so you opt for head nodding. his grip gets stronger, and you gasp, head falling back in hopes to get some sweet oxygen.

"understood?!"

"yes, yes–"

your body hits the floor, and stays there as you try to breathe normally. you're all red and sweaty, hair sticking to your face and your throat feeling as if you fell on needles with it.

"you," you breathe out, glaring at him from the floor," you absolute asshole."

"no matter the blood relation, i am still your supervisor. you take orders from me, and me only. you don't do reckless things, like playing an empath and falling right into the killers hands."

"i just want to help him heal physically. that's all."

"no need. he deserves everything he gets." he is firm with his decision, truly believing that a prison is a place of suffering, not healing and learning of a better life. "if i hear about you stepping foot into the H section, i will personally chain you up right next to him and make you watch."

"you're–" you start, tears spilling down your cheeks from defeat.

"a monster, yeah. very original. talk to me when you come up with a better one." he finishes for you, then sits at his desk again.

you stand still, hoping he might somehow change his mind. but how hopeful can you be, when he just choked you seconds ago? he looks up at you, making you twitch at the sudden eye-contact.

"dismissed."

days pass awfully slow, with you spending them in your office, buried in papers. you are holding a file. one that you borrowed from jeong yunho himself. the printer finally made a sound, letting you know that it is still alive and capable of the task you gave it.

a few duplicates land on your desk, and you swallow. the soft brown eyes look at you from a small picture, and it takes you back to the day you found him gripping the sheets and screaming in pain. your chest feels tight, and you feel the tears gather in your eyes again.

what could he have possibly done to end up in the H section? isolated from everyone except two guards, his doctor, and yunho. no proper food, no normal conversations, no clean water. just four stone cold walls, a dusty floor, and a probably bedbug infested mattress.

you return the file, making sure to position it right as you found it. you return to your desk, and breathe out. in the mugshot you have printed out, a bigger format than in the file, he has dried blood on his face, lots of bruises, and a cut on his lip and cheekbone.

your fingers brush over his lips, admiring the shape and volume. if only you could brush an alcohol dipped cotton ball over it, to clean his cut and feel him under your fingertips. the people of this building intrigue you. especially those who have done heavy crimes and believe they did the right thing. they have their own twisted belief of what's morally wrong and what is not. but this person is something that is reaching deep parts of your brain. it might be that you're only feeling sorry for the way he is treated, but either way, you want to know more.

your eyes look into his. a deep brown, anger evident in his gaze. in that moment, he also believed he did the right thing. maybe he believed now too, that's why he is being punished the way he is. this man might just be the most gorgeous one in this building, but if the guards and yunho keep it up this way, his pretty face will soon be butchered. you let out a huff, then proceed onto the next paper.

PRISONER INFO

name: mingi song

record id: ##############

nationality: korean

gender: male

citizen: yes

eye colour: brown

hair colour: brown

dob: 09081999

age: 24

height: 183 cm

weight: 75 kg

ARREST & SENTENCING INFO

date: 25122022

charge: kidnapping, assault, voluntary manslaughter, domestic violence

summary: song mingi breaks into the song residence on christmas day, assaulting the partner of his sibling, in the process hurting the sibling and his mother. proceeds to lock himself in a house, threatening to commit suicide and dragging the victim with him. upon hearing the gunshot, the forces run in to find the victim laying with a hole in his chest, and song mingi with a gun in his hand. later on, the mother admits to domestic abuse going on at home, coming from song mingi himself.

you cannot believe your eyes. something smells funny in that paragraph, and you think you have just found yourself a new hobby.

the phone rings, startling you and making you drop the papers into a drawer. you clear your throat, then glance at the clock. it's been two hours since you started your mission, and during that time, you've done a lot of worrying and thinking. lots of it. so much, that you think they'll see the files through the phone. that's why you lock the drawer, before you swallow and pick it up.

"jeong office."

"i'll need you to cover for me today."

"doctor?"

"just do the hospital visits; draw some random check marks, and tell them to rest. do not interact with them more than necessary. i have someone else that needs taken care of."

it's like an early birthday present. to cover her means getting her chip. and to get her chip, means entering the H section. you are smiling, your gaze fixed on the locked drawer.

"hey." her voice is firm. she knows you're up to no good. "no funny business. i very much hate cleaning your messes."

"i grew out of it." you assure, opening the drawer and getting the picture out. you look at his eyes one more time. "nothing funny this time, promise."

"they aren't your level patients, but they're all cuffed, so no worries, doc." the kind guard assures, before opening the door for you.

you are in one of your usual institution uniforms, not the actual doctors one. if anything, your brother had a fashion sense. he demanded colour, and each outfit had to be approved by him before anyone could wear it. your heels click over the freshly mopped marble floor, the hot pink matching with the blouse and the lipstick. your white pants already had a small chocolate stain, which you so cleverly covered up with the silk bow from your new promotion bag. your freedom with outfits makes you feel powerful. as if you're working for a fashion or marketing company, not your brother's prison.

you hold the files tight in your hand, scanning the room in front of you. beds are lined up on each side, every single person cuffed to it. they are all in critical condition; from heart and lung diseases, to broken ribs and sewn faces.

"good morning." you try with a smile, and immediately regret.

they are all loud, trying to stand up and reach out towards you. you're lucky they're in bad shape and have elijah next to you, otherwise, you'd be dead meat by now.

"sit on my face, doc. guaranteed i'll feel better."

"no, sit on mine!"

"i'd rather her sit between my legs."

"i'd rather sit between her legs! ha!"

you're feeling dizzy and sick. they're not like your thieves and fighters from A section. these are real criminals. those who have killed, and will kill again if given the chance. you look back at the doors, making sure the guard is still there. the kind man nods towards you, as a way of assuring you that he will protect you if anything happens.

you do exactly as you were told; draw random check marks, tell them they'll get well soon, and move on. you try to ignore the awful sexual comments directed at you, but each one makes your stomach twist, and you can't wait to get out of here. you are ready to do so, when the guard comes to you.

"come here." he guides you to a door at the end of the room, entering first.

"what is it, elijah?"

the big man turns on the light, and carefully lets you in. your breath stops at the sight.

"he usually gets a detailed checkup, his state isn't the best. i went into his room at least five times today, he hasn't moved an inch. i know, i know, he's dangerous. just... i want to know he's okay."

and with that, he closes the door, leaving you alone in the room with one bed. a man lays there, a man whose face is now familiar in your eyes.

"song mingi." you whisper to yourself.

he is breathing through a mask, thin tubes connecting him to multiple devices. you sit in the chair next to his bed, and pull out a fresh white paper. the clock is ticking loudly on the wall, making it hard for you to focus on not doing anything stupid. he's there, completely exposed and vulnerable to you. and so fucking beautiful. even with the ugly mask on.

"i'm here to do a quick checkup on you instead of dr rachel maslow. i won't stay long, i know i'm disturbing you."

he doesn't move an inch. you gulp, then glance at the tubes connected to his arm. stupidly, you reach out to take his arm in your lap. you notice cuts, old and fresh ones. untreated. your thumb grazes over one, making him jolt and grab your wrist.

"fuck!" you jump, but his grip is strong, and holds your body in place.

you try to squeeze out, nails subconsciously digging into his wounds, trying to defend yourself, but only making it worse.

"let go of me," you beg, "you're hurting me!"

you gasp when he pulls you hard, your body falling over his. you're face to face with him, eyes looking deep into yours.

"imagine how it hurts me."

you gulp. you let go of his arm, hand slowly creeping into your pocket. he doesn't release your wrist, grip so strong it makes your skin lose colour.

"can you make my pain stop, doctor?"

"i'll do my best if you let go, mr song."

"the source of my pain, doctor. please."

your hand stops in your pocket. the injection is in your hand, ready to be used. and he seems clueless, or he knows, he is just used to it.

"you want me to find a way to stop the guard?"

"guard, doctor maslow, jeong yunho, everyone."

you stare in silence, words ringing inside your head. tears have become a regular visitor since you've started working for your brother, but it's always uncomfortable when they announce their arrival. your voice is stuck in your throat, and seeing the man so vulnerable at your fingertips, makes you want to take him into your arms and assure him that you'll protect him. the sun rays fall on him, brown eyes turning into gold pools of honey. he stares at you, eyelids half closed, and grip falling loose. you drop the injection in your pocket, body inching closer to him. an invisible force pulls you, but to tell the truth, you don't fight it. you help it, hand reaching to move the hair out of his eyes.

he exhales, eyes falling shut. you carefully monitor his body language, suddenly aware that you are in the presence of a prisoner after all. you almost choke on your spit, when you see a tear escape his closed eye and roll down his cheek.

"mr song?"

"god, that's the first time i didn't get hit for speaking."

he laughs, tears creating streams down his colorless skin. tears of joy, you guess. he is now staring at the white ceiling, laughing like crazy, an occasional sniff interrupting him. his eyes lock with yours, causing you to twitch at the sudden emotion change. his lip twitches, tears of sadness replacing the ones of joy. your heart breaks at his state, but there's only so much you can do right now, and that is to sit and listen to his side of the story. the justice is in yunho's hands. in wrong hands. maybe better. if it were in yours, you'd set everyone free.

"i forgot what it feels like to be a human. it's been years."

"i'm sorry." you say, aware that yunho has forbidden you to use those words with prisoners.

at this point, you are doing everything that he has forbidden you. talking to patients that do not belong to you, entering places you're not supposed to, physical contact with someone from a restricted section, stealing his files, and whatnot. mingi has taken comfort in keeping your wrist secure in his hand, and is breathing normally again.

"i'm not asking to get out of here. all i ask is to be treated like a human. why is a child molester better treated than someone who just wanted to protect his family?"

"because the world is a rotten place, mr song."

"mingi," he exhales.

"i'm not supposed to-"

"please."

you gulp. one of the rules is also to not get comfortable around them and have them call you by your first name, or call them by their first name. but how can you decline such a polite request?

"okay, mingi."

his name rolls off your tongue like it was made up to fit you. his lips twitch in a weak smile, and his grip on your wrist loosens.

"is there... a chance that i could have you as my doctor?" he asks.

"i don't think so. dr maslow is quite persistent when it comes to, well-"

"dangerous criminals, yeah. i figured."

he exhales, defeated. you want it, you really do. but going against your colleague means going against yunho too, and you do not have the energy for that. not yet.

"but i will do my best to somehow ease the situation for you. maybe move you to another cell?"

"i think the bed bugs will evolve into a new type of dinosaur before i get a new cell. i am fine with it, really. i don't need anything materialistic. only a meal and proper healthcare. that's all i ask."

your heart feels heavy. it really is cruel how child molesters and cold blooded serial killers and rapists are treated better. the place is a sinking hole, and you alone cannot change anything. it is only a matter of time when someone dies from all this cruelty going on. knowing your brother, he could easily cover it up. now that you think about it, it could've already happened, and you know nothing about it. that's how immoral this place is.

"i will do my best to provide that." you assure him, then try freeing your hand from his.

he tenses up, immediately grabbing you back and opening his eyes to look at you, pure fear transforming his face.

"mingi, you will have to let me go."

"just a bit more, please."

"i'm sorry, i can't. if i'm not back in the office in the next fifteen minutes, this might be the last time you see me. just let me do a quick check-up and then you can continue your rest."

the man immediately lets go of your hand, laying still in the bed. you take the time to check his tubes, and write up a quick description of the state he is in.

"lift your shirt up for me, please?"

he does it, wincing in pain as he moves his arms. sore muscles, you conclude. no visible bruises or cuts other than the cuts below his elbow. your eyes scan his torso, and you sigh with disappointment when you examine it closely. he is poorly wrapped up in bandages, blood seeping through it and onto the shirt and thin blanket he was covered with.

you stand up, rolling his shirt up further. his body emits warmth and caresses your fingers as you work on him, making you slightly flushed. even though his state is awful, you cannot help your own feelings. he is a gorgeous man, with the warmest eyes you've ever seen in your life. and right now, you are about to touch his bare skin. it is only normal for the swarm of butterflies to act this way in your stomach.

you start unwrapping his bandage, and he hisses under your touch.

"you'll have to sit up for me. can you do that?"

"i think so." he says, voice raspy from pain.

he sits up, and holds his shirt up so you can work easier on him.

"good job," you say, smiling at him as encouragement.

he smiles back, his eyes forming crescent moons. he almost doesn't feel the pain anymore, his whole focus shifting on the way your hair falls over your eyes as you remove the stained bandages. he can almost feel your kindness wrap him in a big warm hug, and he wishes the feeling stays there forever.

"you're pretty." he blurts out.

"huh?" you say, not sure if you heard him right.

"nothing." he says, cheeks red with embarrassment.

"i thought you said something about me being ugly?" you poke, a playful smile on your lips.

"no, no! you're very pretty, that's what i said." he repeats himself, cheeks so warm he looks feverish.

"thank you, mingi. you're very sweet."

you finally take a good look at his wound. two open lines decorate his torso, remains of dried blood splattered around them.

"oh, god. what is this?"

"that would be a belt." he says, as if it the most normal thing in the world.

"a belt?!"

"a high quality one, too. managed to break my skin. it doesn't do that usually."

"usually," you repeat, scoffing in disbelief.

you are utterly disgusted by everyone at this point. the guards, the doctor, other prisoners, your brother. you are sick and tired. no man deserves this.

"and what about this? does this hurt-?"

"ow!" he jumps in the bed, body running away from your touch.

your fingers retread from his body. the area on his rib cage is slightly deformed and bruised, and judging by the intense reaction made from a light touch, it could mean a broken bone.

"i'll write you down for an x-ray, okay? this doesn't look good."

"x-ray? what could it be?"

"probably a fractured bone. i'll get you fixed, don't worry."

he seems very nervous, eyes big with concern and curiosity as he tries to read what you are scribbling down on your notes. you check the time, and when you realize that you have stayed here longer than you should've, you hurriedly stand up, collecting your things.

"so, uh..." he trails, hands still holding his shirt.

"oh, god, i'm so sorry. right."

your fingers tremble as you search the room for new bandages and wiping alcohol. you are very late, and considering that both yunho and rachel know where you've gone, they could barge here any second now. and mingi will be at fault again. there is no time for you to be as gentle as you wanted to be with him. your heart feels heavy each time you swipe the cotton on his skin and you hear him hiss and flex under your touch. you are nearly done, all that's left is to put fresh bandages on him and check his tubes before taking a few more notes and leaving.

"are you eating properly?"

he chuckles, but not the funny chuckle. the tired, sarcastic chuckle.

"sorry. i forgot that your section is..."

"a shithole, yeah. i eat four to five spoons of lentils, and two cups of water a day. three if i've been good. which is confusing, i always try to be good. he just-" mingi stops, biting his lip.

he has said too much already. he doesn't want to bother you. after all, you are here just to do your own job. not save him.

"just what?" you ask, curiosity overshadowing the fear from your brother.

"nothing."

"you can tell me." you push.

the man stays silent, eyes fixed on the ceiling. he isn't showing any intention of answering your question, or speaking further. he has exposed himself too much, and now you can sense him pulling his walls up.

"mingi..." you start, trying to tell him that you understand and won't push him harder. but he doesn't let you finish.

"i said nothing! get out!" he yells, making you jump from the chair.

his eyes are wide, bloodshot. they are glossy, and you realize that he wants you out of the room before he breaks down. he doesn't want to cry in front of you again.

"i'll be back for that x-ray. i'll also try to get you proper food so you can heal."

you see remorse on his face, but he doesn't say anything. he is overwhelmed with emotions. he feels sadness, anger, and sudden comfort coming from a new person. it is a rollercoaster of emotions, and he doesn't know how to navigate it. it is best to leave him be before he explodes.

"take care." you give him a smile, and finally leave for your office.

a week later, song mingi exits the x-ray room. he is disappointed, his eyes not able to find your face behind the glass among the doctors. maybe you were there, but hid from him. after all, he did yell at you last time he saw you. he couldn't help it. he was scared of anyone and anything at this point, no matter how tough he tried to act. song mingi is just a flower who has surrounded himself with a walnut shell.

the man furrows his eyebrows, seeing that the guards are guiding him to a lower level of the building. then, when he musters up enough courage to ask where they're taking him, the words stop in his throat as his eyes fall on your figure. he smiles, so wide that his cheeks hurt. you smile back, and as you approach him, he is reminded just how beautiful you are.

"good morning, mingi."

he hated his name. it was screamed and drenched in pain and sorrow many times before he ended up here. you saying it, it felt like the name was just given to him. like he had no awful history behind it.

"answer when someone talks to you." the guard hits the back of his head, and the smile disappears off his lips.

"good morn–"

slap.

mingi looks up, terrified. he looks over at the guard who hit him, only to find him holding his cheek and looking down at your shoes.

"do not, ever, and I mean ever, do that again. did I make myself clear?"

the guard nods, gaze still fixed down.

"did I make myself clear?!"

"yes, yes! perfectly clear."

mingi is mesmerized by your sudden surge of confidence. he saw you as an innocent young woman, gentle and quiet. this, however, didn't shut down the growing interest he has for you. in fact, his heart beat just a bit faster when his eyes met yours. the transition from tough to soft gaze when you finally looked at him had him blushing hard.

"you feeling alright?" you tilt your head slightly, trying to properly look at him.

his head still hangs a little low, too afraid to cross a boundary with his staring and overly friendly smiles. he nods, then slightly bows his head as a thank you.

"that's good to hear. I managed to get you a better cell for your recovery. if you continue being a good boy, they'll let you stay."

you say it playfully, but mingi is ashamed by the twitch in his pants once the words leave your mouth.

a good boy.

he'll be the goodest boy ever for you. just to see you proud of him. after all, it is your work reflecting on him. he will help you leave a good impression in this hellhole. and, if he's lucky, he'll keep you as his doctor.

"right, then. I'll come and visit soon, I hope. take care. and take your medications!"

he nods again, suddenly unable to speak. he wanted to say so much. he wanted to drop on his knees and thank you. he wanted to feel your hands on his face again. but he soon realises just how unprofessional that is. he would rather only secretly glance at your figure one more time, before the guards drag him to his new home.

he is thrown on the floor, the humiliated guard landing kicks all over his freshly bandaged torso. blood seeps through them again, staining the new prisoner uniform you have gotten him.

"piece of shit, that's what you are. no fucking dinner for you, you pig."

but mingi did not care. he stayed on the floor, not bothering to check out the new cell he was given. he only stared as the heavy doors shut, listening to multiple locks turning, before he smiled to himself like a crazy man.

you looked stunning in your blouse. purple is your colour, he concludes.

in the morning, mingi finds himself laying on a soft surface. he opens one of his eyes, the light too strong for him to handle. he sits up, rubbing his eyes, before feeling discomfort in his lower body. he looks down, and soon enough discovers why it feels that way. his crotch is a sticky mess, and it feels hot.

he wonders how that happened. he fell asleep from exhaustion and pain last night, on the floor. he knows he didn't jerk off. and he knows for sure he didn't willingly climb on the bed. now, he either came in his sleep on the floor and humiliated himself when someone transferred him, or he came peacefully in the bed after the transfer. either way, his brain works hard to figure out the reason of the relief.

he barely manages to glance around the room, taking in all the sunlight, before the doors open. then, as soon as you walk in, he is reminded how the mess spawned in his underwear and all over his pants.

your sighs against his ear, your skin under his fingertips, your warm walls swallowing his hard cock. that's why he didn't hear the three knocks for breakfast in the morning. and that's why he didn't feel the transfer to the bed. all because he was having wettest dreams about you.

his jaw is slightly hanging, seeing you approach him so cheerfully. you are wearing a dress, past the knees length, with long flowy sleeves. he spends a few seconds memorizing every curve of your body, so he can inappropriately think about you after you leave. you are lovely, kindness embodied, and as pretty as the first cherry blossom in spring. mingi wishes he could keep you in his cell, just so that he can look at you and feel safe.

he lowers his gaze, scared that you might see in his eyes exactly what he is thinking about. but you grab a chair, and sit in front of him. your finger find a spot under his chin, gently guiding him so that he can look at you.

"you're not supposed to-" the guard steps forward, in case mingi tries something.

"shut the hell up."

the man on the bed had to fight the urge to laugh in the guard's face. he loves your fierce side. as long as he doesn't get on it, it's hot. way too soon, your hand leaves mingi's face. you flip through your notebook, scribbling something down.

"that lip cut looks new." you comment.

"uh, yes." he confirms, scratching his neck.

"cole?"

"yes, doctor?" the short male answers.

"you don't happen to know where mr song got that cut, do you?"

"no, doctor." the guard lies easily to your face.

"okay."

mingi doesn't say anything, in fear of you more than the man behind you. but you only give him a sweet smile, before writing into your notebook again. the pen glides so smoothly on the paper, and maybe he was just smitten, but mingi swore that he never saw such pretty handwriting.

"here's your medication."

you hold out a singular blue pill, waiting for him to take it. he does, unsurely popping it into his mouth, and then takes the water bottle that stood untouched on his nightstand. your intense gaze makes him accidentally spill it all over his t-shirt, and before he can start apologizing, you take the bottle and close it for him.

"good job. you'll heal in no time." you encourage, then hand him a towel.

"thank you." he finally says something without mumbling or stuttering.

"no, no. thank you, for being cooperative and not giving me headaches. like some people." you look over at the moody guard.

the young prisoner smiles, knowing that it will probably earn him a kick or two as soon as you leave. you stand up, closing your notebook.

"get him new pants." you casually comment, and mingi immediately feels his ears heat up from embarrasment.

"i'm so sorry-" he apologizes, again and again, until your hand finds its place on his to stop them from flapping around while explaining.

"stop apologizing for everything. and i better see you in the canteen for lunch soon. got it?" you playfully demand.

"canteen?"

"yes. i worked something out and got you access to the canteen. you can't heal from lentils only."

and with another smile, you are gone.

canteen. he hasn't seen that place for years now. he barely remembers the taste of real meat and potatoes. but he vividly remembers the cold silver tables and stools. the very tables where he got thrown on and beat lots of times, by both guards and prisoners. all because he didn't want to share his bread or give away the little earning of the day he had made. eventually, they stopped letting him into the canteen, simply because his presence alone would cause chaos. he was everybody's punching bag, and as much as he cried of hunger at nights, he would rather stay in the safety of the four walls. well, partial safety. one bully is still better than twenty.

the next few weeks, you visit him often. to give him the blue pill, hype him up, and treat to his wounds. he has healed nicely, and you are proud of him. he is mostly silent, except when he thanks you or apologizes to you. he still doesn't have enough courage to leave the cell to get himself food, so he settles for lentils for two more weeks. until you've had enough, and scold him.

"your progress is going awfully slow, and you're making it harder for me. please go eat something."

"okay," he finally agrees.

he doesn't get to know about you much. you are there only for a few minutes a day, but even that is better than nothing. he gets to stare at you as you write into your notebook, and each night when his hand travels down his pants, his image of you is more and more vivid.

with new fresh pants and a t-shirt, song mingi finally walks up to the canteen doors. he sees so many people, ones he has known, and ones he will get to know. the loneliness is slowly vanishing, but the anxiety is just announcing its arrival. mingi is swallowed by fear. he doesn't want to let you down, but what will he do if someone decides to test him? will he have enough self control?

"you're not getting married, you're just getting food. get in." he is pushed through the doors.

the smell of fried chicken and soup fills his nostrils, and his stomach grumbles in anticipation. his legs carry him to the waiting line, hands already grabbing an empty tray. he blends in so easily, like he was here every day. he announces his order to the kind lady that has always liked him and given him the best piece of meat, feeling fully confident in himself. the lady smiles widely at him, and mingi is happy knowing that he has two people caring about him.

he takes a seat in the empty corner by himself, eyeing the warm soup. finally, he dives in. the liquid drips down his chin as he eats like a starved man, the chicken flavour melting on his tongue. he is lost in the joy of eating, he almost doesn't notice a hand grabbing the chocolate muffin off his tray. but he does, dropping the spoon in the already empty bowl.

"well, well. lookie here."

three men surround his table, each sending him smirks and glares. mingi isn't scared of them anymore. he won't give them a reason to be a threat. for you.

"oh, sorry, were you gonna eat that?" the bald one speaks with a stuffed mouth. chocolate bits fall on the table, making mingi grimace in disgust.

"no, you can have it." he simply says, then moves on to his fried chicken.

"oh?" the men look at each other, surprised by how calm he is. three years ago he would've gone feral on all of them, giving the whole canteen a reason to start a chaos. all for a piece of pork.

"did you want my juice too?" the young man holds the little box of apple juice out for one of them to take.

they're all puzzled. just what was happening in section H that made mingi calm down like this? or was this his new strategy? what exactly was in that apple juice?

"cut the shit, asshole. let's relive some memories, shall we?" the taller one grabs mingi by his collar, dragging him up so that he stands.

"i'd rather not. not in the mood. another day maybe?"

"oh, another day? so you're back for a longer period, huh?"

"hope so." he genuinely says, looking around the place.

"aren't you a dove. almost makes me feel sorry for what i'm about to do to that pretty face."

the third man suddenly starts tapping their shoulders, looking behind at the doors opening. mingi is dropped on his stool, all forgotten. the three men don't move away from his table yet, but their attention remains on the people that have just walked in. and when mingi finally sees it too, his mind and heart have a very difficult time.

jeong yunho, dr rachel maslow, and you, walking peacefully to the end of the line, each grabbing a tray.

"i thought they had their own fancy ass canteen?"

"they do. i don't know what the fuck kinda experiment this is, but i'm not liking it."

"i don't know about you, but i'm liking the view of the chick."

"you think if we kill that asshole that we can escape? i mean, he's right there."

"nah, he's invincible. remember that guy who tried to stab him with scissors? the bastard survived even that. i heard he keeps the scissors framed in his office."

mingi eavesdrops further, in hopes of getting information he can forward to you. but his ears pick up something that itched a certain part of his brain. a click, which set his old self free.

"maybe see how useful his sissy is and serve him her head when we're done with her?"

"i'd rather her give me a head."

"i heard she's a virgin."

"aw, i get to be her first and last!"

mingi sees red. his hand grips the empty soup bowl, and his teeth are biting the insides of his cheeks. he looks at you as you get your own food, walking with such elegance that every woman on the planet should envy you. and then, he sees you naked, scared, in the hands of these awful men. he sees your big, scared eyes looking up at him and silently begging for help, while the laughter of the three men rings in his ears.

one thought leads to another, and mingi does exactly what earned him the section H. he loses himself to his overthinking and rage. his hand smashes the bowl on the head of the bald man, his other hand soon grabbing his throat.

"i'll keep her safe," the young prisoner mutters, looking into the man's eyes as he fails to beg for mercy.

mingi's fingers dig into his neck, as if trying to rip his throat out. he feels punches on his shoulders and back, and when the man in his hands finally collapses, he turns around. he lands a punch into one's nose, sending him back a few steps. he turns towards the third one, the one who made a comment about being your first and last.

"i'll keep her safe," he repeats, this time louder. he marches at the man, biting into his throat and ripping out a chunk of meat. red liquid drips down mingi's chin, but he isn't bothered. his fingers dig into the scrunched body, holding it in place so that it doesn't run from the death grip that is song mingi.

"what the fuck?!"

"oh my god!"

"who let him in here?"

"run!"

"get dr rachel!"

his ears are ringing, and his vision blurs. but he still doesn't stop, not until life fades from the men's eyes and they lay on the floor, painting the floor red. he isn't sure how long he stays there kicking their bodies, smashing their limbs and ribs, until a pair of hands grab him by his shoulders.

he kneels down by force, the brand new uniform drenched in the blood he spilled. your face appears in his frame, and he sees that you are kneeling, just like him. you are speaking, but he doesn't hear a thing. only the distant echo of their laugh, and your silent pleas for help. he looks down on the floor, and feels terrible guilt when he sees that your dress is slowly turning red.

"safe..." he whispers.

jeong yunho holds the man in place, while dr rachel fidgets with something in her hands. you send him a confused look, not knowing what the word safe means in this situation. you want to help him, you truly do. but he makes it very difficult.

"i'll keep you safe," he says again, more to himself than you.

"safe from what, mingi?"

"i'll keep you safe."

his body loses strength under yunho, dr rachel already pulling an empty injection from his arm. he is dizzy, but his eyes don't leave yours. he uses his last ounces of strength to smile at you, before collapsing.

"see what he's capable of? you still want to go play good doctor with him?"

dr rachel scoffs, throwing the injection in the trash bin. yunho doesn't speak. he walks around his desk, hands behind his back. he is probably thinking of ways to punish you. but you couldn't care less about what happens to you. you need to know that mingi is alright before everything. then, you need to know what caused the outburst.

"this isn't a fanfiction, you can't change him. he's locked in section H for a reason, and you stay away from those sections for a reason. i do not want you near him again."

"that isn't your call to make." you spit at her, then look over at yunho with anticipation.

"mr jeong?" she searches for support.

but he remains silent.

"so what? you granted him access to the canteen, then brought me there just so i could witness him going feral? you planned it all?"

"shut up."

"you sent those men at him, didn't you? you wanted to create a problem..."

"shut up."

"...so that mingi acts up. and when he does, rachel will prove that i am not capable..."

"shut up."

"...of taking care of such high level criminals, and you'll go back to your bullying ways again uninterrupted. is that what-"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

yunho throws the lamp from his desk right at the wall beside your head.

"fuck!" he kicks the little coffee table in front of his desk, flipping it and spilling the cold coffees all over the carpet. "fuck, fuck, fuck!"

tears stream down your face from fear. each time you see him recently, he has less control. it isn't your brother anymore. it's just mr jeong.

"i will say this one more time, and if you bring me into a situation where i have to repeat myself, i swear to god, i will fry his brains in front of you. you'll see him on that electric chair every time you close your eyes, and you'll hear his screams every time you go to sleep at night. i will make the experience so traumatic and gruesome for you that you will need not two, not three, but ten fucking psychiatrists to heal you! you will stay the fuck away from him, stay the fuck away from my files, my prisoners, my business, and my way of doing things! if i see you, no, if i even hear possible rumors that might not even be true, that you stepped foot - not in the cell, but in the section - i will personally serve you his long suffering and death. and i'll enjoy every second of it. have i made myself clear?"

your jaw hangs low, blood running cold in your veins. pure venom drips from yunho's lips, and it makes your stomach sick. you feel like throwing up. he turns around at your lack of response, marching over to you. you run, squealing. hiding behind the armchair, you shield yourself from the person that possessed your brother.

you nod frantically, trying to swallow the lump of pure fear in your throat.

"i don't want to see your face anymore for today. or tomorrow. get lost."

and you obey, running past him and into the hallway. you struggle to catch your breath as you reach your office, and once you're safe behind the locked doors, you finally let it out. you sob, whimper, fingers reaching into the drawer to pull out his picture. the kind brown eyes look at you from the paper, and it only makes your chest hurt from the upcoming sobs.

"i'm sorry," you say, as if he can hear you.

days turn into weeks, and you are scared to even look at the sign that says section H. dr rachel has her eye on you, and you don't dare disobey. you work with a lifeless expression, mind and heart drained of the will to live. guilt is eating you inside out, and it's killing you that you can't ask anyone about mingi's wellbeing.

you haven't seen yunho since that day. and you don't think you have the strength to. you hate him. you hate what he's done with this place. you hate that a place of rehabilitation has turned into one of torture. and you hate that he's corrupted all the other workers. is it the pay? is it their equally fucked up morals? how can all of them be alright with it?

"doctor?"

you turn around, expecting to be given more news about ill prisoners. the flu is spreading like crazy the past two days. but when you see elijah approaching you, your heart flutters. he is usually unreachable, always roaming the forbidden section.

"how is he?" you ask before thinking.

elijah looks around for you, and when he makes sure that he coast is clear, he lowers his voice.

"not bad, but not good. he is holding on."

"how are his injuries? anything new?"

"barnes is beating the life out of him for every little thing he does. so he decided to go on a strike and just sit in the corner all day and all night. he doesn't eat, barely sleeps, and started harming himself worse than before. he wants to die, doctor."

you feel your heart dropping low in your chest, and it hurts. you wanted to help him, and look what you did.

"don't blame yourself. he did it to himself." as if he knew what you were thinking, elijah interrupts.

"he was talking about... safety? do you have any idea what that might've been?"

"keep you safe, that's what he keeps repeating. apparently, he heard a few guys talk bad about you, planning to do something to you, and he lost it."

"i need to see him."

"no."

"make it happen, please. please, elijah."

"all three of us will lose our heads, doctor."

you feel your cheeks become wet, your vision getting blurry. putting your palms together, you beg. "please. for just a second. and then i'll never ask for him again. never think of him."

elijah exhales. "fine."

at exactly two o'clock in the morning on a sunday, you walk barefoot down the hallways, like a ghost who haunts a castle. successfully avoiding guards, you slip into the H section, scanning elijah's code on the hallway doors and letting yourself in. the heavy door waits for you at the end of the hall, mysterious and inviting. mr barnes is not in his usual position, meaning elijah has found a way to distract him. you had exactly fifteen minutes, and five have already passed.

hurriedly, you scan the code again, then as quiet as possible turn all the locks. your breath stops once you get in, the smell of sweat and blood hitting your nostrils. then, you see him. curled up on the floor, holding his head, knees to his chest. sobbing, fingers pulling his hair, and shivering.

you feel the dusty floor under your bare feet, and wonder if the room ever gets swept. it looks the same as when you first found him. slowly approaching, you try not to startle him. he doesn't know that you are coming, and one wrong move could send you flying into the wall. you saw what he was capable of, like dr rachel said. but you also know he doesn't do it for no reason. treat him like a human, and he will do the same.

"mingi," you call in a whisper.

his sobs quiet down, and shivering stops. he sits up, back still turned towards you. the hallway light poorly illuminates it, open wounds on his skin making your heart sink.

"you shouldn't be here," he says, voice raspy.

"sorry, i- i had to. i had to make sure you're okay."

"well, i'm not."

you don't know how to respond. you can see that he is not, you just don't know how to help. there is no time. so you settle for a simple shoulder touch, which he doesn't reject.

"i know. i'm sorry." silence swallows the room. mingi doesn't move. he doesn't remove your hand from his shoulder either. with a gulp, you continue. "can i see you? please?"

when he doesn't budge, your other hand finds its way on one of his wounds. immediately, you realize your mistake. the man stands up before you get the chance to properly feel his rough skin under your fingertips, grabbing you by your neck and slamming you against the wall. your toes barely touch the ground, and for a split second, you are back in the room with yunho doing the same thing to you. only this time, the man in front of you has a full right to do so. you violated his privacy, and he reacted.

"i'm sorry," you choke out.

you sound pathetic to yourself. apologizing three times under five minutes, and still breaking boundaries.

"i don't want... i don't want to hurt you." his grip softens, and he slowly lets your feet touch the ground. "i want to keep you. i want to- i need to have you."

his voice fades as his gaze falls on your lips. you are unsure what he means, considering that he is still holding your throat, but his gaze is locked on your lips. he gulps, then looks into your eyes intensely, making you subconsciously clench your thighs. you feel a rush in your lower stomach, one that you're not sure you've ever felt.

"can i? please?"

"i'm not sure what you mean, mingi." your voice is a whisper, afraid that if you speak louder you'll spook him away.

"i just- let me put it this way. i want to thank you."

"for what? i've done nothing but cause you trouble."

"i've caused it myself. i did it to myself. you only helped me. you healed me, treated me with kindness, and i'd like to repay."

a sudden creak from the hallway makes both of you jump, and you run into the corner behind the door. mingi follows, putting his hands on the wall beside your head and shielding you with his body. footsteps approach, and almost get to the unlocked but closed doors, then stop.

"barnes! care for a drink?"

"i'm doing checkups. besides, with you, elijah? no thanks."

"come on. now that we work in the same section, how about we bury the axe? besides, i did the checkups already. it was my turn anyway. we should be good for half an hour."

"you paying?"

"sure am."

"then what the fuck we waiting for?"

the footsteps slowly drift away. and you thank elijah for his quick thinking and buying you time. your attention is on mingi again, whose eyes are still fixed on your lips.

"my savior," he says, hand gently cupping your jaw and thumb caressing your cheek.

"you're exaggerating. i barely did anything to help you. i got you into bigger troubles than you started with and-"

mingi doesn't hesitate anymore. he leans in, still tilting your jaw so that you're almost at his level, and softly presses his lips into yours. you stand there, wide eyed, still processing what's happening. it isn't until mingi presses his body against you, trapping you between one cold wall and one warm one that you finally relax in his arms. you're not sure what to do, or what to feel. you're being kissed and held by a prisoner, and not just any prisoner. the prisoner that is considered one of the most dangerous ones in the whole building. and you're enjoying it. why else would your stomach feel like hot magma waiting to burst.

sensing your frozen state, mingi pulls away. his other hand rests on your waist, fingers subconsciously drawing patterns over your blouse. "let me thank you, doctor. please."

"i'm not sure i'm familiar with this type of thanking," you admit, your cheeks heating up.

his eyes change, from soft to hard, and you're not sure what to feel. yet again.

"so it's true."

"what is?"

"you're a virgin."

"well... yeah, i mean. yes. does it matter?"

"then, the gratitude i had in mind falls off."

oh. oh.

"you should go back before they return. or before i lose my mind."

"no, wait! we have a little less than thirty minutes, i didn't go through all this trouble just to go back."

the young man lays down in bed, hissing a little when his back makes contact with it, then folds his arms over his chest in protest.

"don't be a brat. i came to see you."

"and you did. i'm fine. now go."

"why are you like this suddenly?" your eyes start burning, tears gathering in the corners and blurring your vision. there's a lump in your throat, and no matter how hard you try, it's hard to swallow it. "you're mean to me, when you yourself said that all i've done is help you. make up your mind, do you hate me, or do you like me? do you want me close, or not? do you-"

"what i want is out of line and question. so the next thing i want is naturally for you to leave." he looks at you, almost glaring, before adding, "please."

"don't make this difficult. tell me, and i promise, i'll leave you alone. you'll never hear from me again."

he lays in silence, eyes closed. as if that will make you leave. instead, it brings out the stubbornness and braveness in you, overshadowing your fears. you know what he wants. you are a virgin, but not stupid. if you weren't sure, the obvious bulge in his pants makes it clear. without much thinking, your fingers start unbuttoning the purple blouse, revealing the black bra underneath. you don't take it off, instead leaving it to hang off your shoulders.

mingi's eyes open when he senses the mattress dipping, then a warm body hovering over him. he feels your warm crotch on his naked torso, your skirt hiked up and your bra exposed.

"i can't."

"why not?"

"i'll hurt you. and i already did that tonight, and i won't do it again."

"maybe i want to be hurt."

"you don't mean that. trust me, you don't mean that."

your hands take his cold ones, guiding them so that they rest on your waist. your body shivers at the cold touch, but you don't remove them. instead, you guide them higher up, until his big hand covers your breast. he gulps under you, afraid to move.

"i'd break you."

you lean in, capturing his lips in a kiss. this time, you are more confident, and allow yourself to swipe your tongue across his plump lips. he responds, biting softly into your bottom lip and tugging it, gently sucking on it and licking it. you shiver in his hands, from pleasure more than from the cold. you finally pull away, a string of saliva connecting your lips in a way so erotic that you haven't seen it in movies even.

"please do." you finally respond, a whisper into his mouth.

"and if you regret it?"

"i'll get over it."

with a swift move, mingi's hand yanks your bra down, freeing your breasts and attaching his lips to your tense nipples. you sigh, fingers reaching for his hair and pushing his head into you. his rough tongue swipes over the sensitive bud, lips sucking, while his finger spins the other one. you shake under his touch, never having been touched this way before except by yourself. it feels more intense when it is someone else, and you are dying for more.

"more, please," you beg, pulling at his hair.

"i'll give you anything you want. just ask, doctor. say it, and i'll give it to you."

"touch me more. i need more."

the dark haired man grabs your waist, and like a doll, easily lays you down on the bed and hovers above you. his strength fascinates you, and turns you on even more. you have the urge to feel his every inch under your fingers, but you aren't sure how he will take it. so you settle for placing your hands on his firm chest, just to see his reaction.

he doesn't say or do anything about it. instead, he plants kisses between your breasts, down your stomach, to the waistband of your skirt.

"should i take it off?"

"no." he says firmly. "keep it all on. bright colours look beautiful on you."

"but won't it be difficult?"

"let me do the worrying. you just relax."

with a glint in his eyes, he disappears under your skirt, and you almost yelp when his cold fingers touch your thighs. you try closing them, but his strong grip keeps them apart.

"stay still for me, princess."

a new flood of arousal washes your panties, the new nickname almost making your back arch from the hard mattress. his fingers move your panties aside, and without any warning, his lips press against your folds, leaving a kiss to test the grounds. you gasp at the newfound pleasure, and then moan when his wet muscle swipes across your clit.

"i'll make you feel so good, i promise. i'll repay you. i'll show you how good i can make you feel. just stick around me, please. i'll let you use me for your own pleasure any time you want. do anything you want to me, or order me to do anything you want to you. just stay with me. please."

"i will, i promise, i do." you're lost in the feeling of pure ecstasy, his plush lips sucking and kissing your clit as his finger tests your hole. you clench at the strange feeling, pleasure now being replaced with discomfort. "mingi-"

"trust me. relax." he peeks over the skirt, lips glistening with your arousal.

and you do, at least try to. his lips return to abusing your swollen clit, tugging it and circling it with his tongue, distracting you from his finger. when he decides that you are wet enough, he slides it in, slowly. he tests the waters, and when he sees that you're not clenching, he goes deeper. he moves in and out, knowing that you don't feel anything just yet, but preparing you for the second one.

he watches as your chest rises and falls heavily, soft sighs and moans leaving your pretty parted lips, and your hair already sticking to your face. he is satisfied with himself, finally living out his fantasy of making you feel good as a thank you. he inserts a second finger, easily gliding it along your walls. he curves them slightly upwards, brushing against the spongy part of you, and when you slightly jump and reach for his hair, he smiles to himself. jackpot.

"does it hurt, doctor?"

"it's a bit unpleasant." you admit.

"it'll be better, i promise. i'm just preparing you so that it hurts less later."

his fingers continue pumping inside you, with each entrance gently grazing your soft spot until you get used to it. when your whines turn into moans, mingi finally gives it his all. his thumb rubs your clit, while his two fingers continue with a faster pace. his lips find yours once again, tongue rubbing yours and letting you taste yourself from him. your brain feels fuzzy, and your stomach warm.

"stop, stop." you try pushing his hand away.

"why?"

"i'm close." you whine, trying to push the feeling away. it feels too soon.

"don't worry. i can do wonders in fifteen minutes."

his pumps become stronger and faster, and you helplessly grip at his biceps, nails digging into his already poor tormented skin. but he doesn't complain. he is too lost in the way you look, pure bliss on your face from his touch.

"that's a good girl," he mumbles when a long moan escapes your throat, your body collapsing under him with pure pleasure. "ride it out, come on."

your hips grind on his hand, which continues abusing your overstimulated pussy. you try to move away, but mingi grips your wrists and pins them above your head, then proceeds to finger you faster.

"please-" you're not sure what you're begging for; him to stop or to give you more.

tears stream down your face, pain and pleasure mixing inside of you and creating a roller coaster of emotions. your body twitches, another orgasm washing you over. the room is filled with squelching noises, and when you gather an ounce of strength to pick your head up and look down, you are shocked to see liquid spraying out of you and all over mingi's arm and bed. the man removes his fingers from you, wasting no time and popping them in his mouth. you watch as his tongue swirls around them, his gaze pure lust as he watches your body recover.

"forgive me."

"for wha- oh." your panties are ripped apart, pieces of fabric hanging loosely from your thighs.

"you're so pretty," he kisses you, "so beautiful," your neck, "so pure," your collarbone, "so kind," your stomach, "and so perfectly made for me."

his hands pick you up from the bed, then gently lay you across the dusty old desk near the little window with your back turned towards him. your upper body shivers when it makes contact with the cold wood, and legs almost tremble. you grip the edges of the desk, not questioning his methods. you can barely stand, but your desire to feel him, all of him, gives you energy.

"you're so small underneath me," his hand flips your skirt over, fingers caressing your buttcheeks and thighs while his other hand works on his boxers. "you fit in my hands just perfect."

you can only hum, too lost in the euphoria. his hand spreads your legs apart, and carefully pulls your hair back so that it doesn't fall in your face. you feel a warm muscle circle your hole, which clenches around nothing.

"i'm gonna claim you, doctor. you'll be mine, full of me. i'll mark you up, let everyone know that you belong to me, and i belong to you."

then, he slides in, making you grip the desk and almost bite into it. it hurts like hell, his thick cock splitting you apart. you almost growl in pain, but mingi puts his hand over your mouth just in time. you bite into it, finding comfort in hurting him while he hurts you. but it doesn't last long, because mingi knows what he's doing. he gently pulls out, then slides back in, and so a few times until your hips willingly push back in search for his cock. you are stuffed, and feel him in your stomach. his hands hold your hips in place, while his lips kiss along your spine and shoulders. every now and then, he bites and sucks, marking you just like he promised.

"you'll be mine, and mine only. won't you? tell me you will, please. have mercy on me."

"yes, yes, i will." you groan, focusing on chasing the pleasure.

"can i stuff you full of my cum?"

"you can, please."

"are you on any pills?"

"no, oh fuck- no, i'm not. just- just fuck me, please. i don't care."

mingi is taken aback by your request. but who is he to disobey you? he finds himself roughly pounding into you, completely ignoring your painful whines. he raises one of your legs on the table, and finally reaches the angle he needed. you bite into his hand again, hiding moans. he would love to hear you, more than anything, but with elijah and barnes right around the corner, it's impossible. another time. if mingi is lucky, he'll get to see and hear it.

"pretty," thrust, "so pretty," thrust, "i'm obsessed with you."

"you look beautiful stuffed with my cock."

"your cunt is the prettiest one i've ever seen."

"i want to see your cumming face every day, forever."

"i want you all to myself."

he chants against your ear, warm chest pressing against your back as he reaches deep inside of you, his pace slowing.

"i want to feel your walls swallow me every single day."

"your cunt was shaped for me."

"i'll have you squirting all over my tongue."

"nobody can touch you except me. not even you."

"and nobody will touch me, except you."

"please, doctor, make me the happiest prisoner in this shithole."

he halts his movements to catch a breath. but you, so desperate for him, move your hips and fuck yourself on him. it gives him a new surge of energy, and mingi can't help but bruise your skin with his grip as his skin slaps against yours, cock kissing your cervix and driving you insane.

"cream all over my cock, princess. please."

he doesn't have to say it twice. the third orgasm has your vision blurry, and you mouth almost drooling. you fuck yourself dumb on his cock, riding out your orgasm and feeling warm liquid spilling inside of you. he grunts behind you, helping both of you get the final touches of pleasure out before pulling out. his cum drips from your hole, down your thigh, and mingi fights the urge to stuff you full of himself one more time. it's enough for one night, he concludes.

"see? and five minutes to spare." he jokingly whispers, planting a kiss on your shoulder where a purple bite sized bruise is being formed. "let me help you get dressed."

you stand up straight, and allow him to take care of you. he delicately buttons your blouse up, fixing your collar, then reaches for his half soaked bed sheet so he can dry your skirt. you watch him as he tries his best to put you together, thinking if this was your best or worst decision of your life.

"wow. just what the fuck did i say? i find you, i kill him."

your legs feel cold, like they were sliced. your eyes widen, and mingi stills on his knees under you. you can only put your hands on his head and bring him close to you for a hug in hopes of protecting him somehow. a few seconds feel like hours to you, holding his body close to you and feeling his hands hug your legs shakily, before he is mercilessly torn away and dragged down the hallway, by none other than elijah and barnes.

jeong yunho stays at the door, a smirk expanding on his lips. he knew. from the moment you met mingi, yunho knew this moment would come. he just needed a puppet to arrange his sentence.

my saviour, the young prisoner said.

yet he didn't know that you would be his death. served as kindness on a platter, only to turn out the biggest bullet of them all.

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serpentandlily · 9 months ago

Text

Birds of a Feather - Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel had been your closest friend, made from the very same things as you—birds of a feather, as they say. But you were not the girl he chose to fall in love with. So all you could do was love your mate in the shadows until the day you died.

Warnings: angst angst angst

A/n: Inspired by Birds of a Feather by Billie Eilish, but this is a more sad interpretation of the song. Hope you enjoy! (Epilogue HERE)

• ───────────────── •

I want you to stay

'Til I'm in the grave

'Til I rot away, dead and buried

'Til I'm in the casket you carry

• ───────────────── •

A flick of golden brown hair caught your eye as Elain tossed her head back with her lilting laughter. So soft. So beautiful. So charming. You could hardly blame Azriel for being so enraptured by her. To him, she was probably the answer to all his questions, all his insecurities and doubt. To have someone like Elain look at him like that…Well, it seemed like it had healed something in him.

Unfortunately for you, it had done the opposite. It had completely destroyed you. Torn your heart into pieces. Opened new wounds and old wounds. It had shined a light on every single insecurity you felt. Because you had been praying for the day that Azriel would look at you the way he looked at her. But that day had never come and it never would.

You hadn’t been good enough for him. Hadn’t been beautiful enough to catch his attention like Mor and Elain had. Hadn’t been sweet enough to serve as a beacon of light for him. Hadn’t been soft enough to bring him comfort.

You slipped out of the back door. No one even noticed your disappearance, all too happy in this new little family they had created with all three of the Archeron sisters.

Tears lined your eyes as you hugged yourself, slowly walking along the Sidra towards your apartment. You had been naive to think you’d ever have a love like Feyre and Rhys or Nesta and Cassian. Azriel had been right that night you’d overheard him in the High Lord’s office.

The Cauldron had gotten it wrong. It had gotten it all so wrong.

Azriel was your mate. He was supposed to love and cherish you. Not her. But he had never looked your way once—not like that. You’d been best friends since the dawn of time, since you had entered each other’s lives. But that was all the companionship he could give you.

On nights like this, you almost wished you had told him about the mating bond when it had snapped for you. But you had hoped and prayed that he would come to love you for you and not for the mating bond. So you never spoke a word of it to anyone and maybe that had been your mistake.

But you didn’t want a love that only existed because of the mating bond. You wanted a love that felt real and deep—with the mating bond only serving as the cherry on top. You didn’t regret not telling him. But you did regret sticking around to watch him fall in love with another girl.

It didn’t help that Elain was the opposite of you. She was all sunshine and flowers, soft warm bread and honey. You were a creature of the night. You were the moon and its shadows, cryptic and grim. It was why you thought you and Azriel got along so well. You were made of all the same things. But he had always hated that about himself so really, it shouldn’t have been so surprising that he would look for someone who embodied the opposite.

It hurt though, it hurt so much.

You were his equal. You lived in the shadows as much as he did. Your soul was made from the same essence as his. You were birds of a feather. You were companions. He was the only one who understood you completely and you were the only one who saw him and loved him as he was—darkness and all.

You were supposed to stick together through it all.

But…he hadn’t chosen you.

You finally made it back to your apartment and hung up your coat before collapsing on your bed and letting the sobs ricochet through the utter silence of your home.

Alone once again.

As you always would be.

• ───────────────── •

Birds of a feather, we should stick together, I know

I said I'd never think I wasn't better alone

Can't change the weather, might not be forever

But if it's forever, it's even better

• ───────────────── •

All you had wanted to do today was get lost in your book and forget about your own life for a few hours. That was what you had planned, why you were even in the private library at the River House. But of course, the Mother decided to spite you once again.

Azriel sat on the armchair across from you, fiddling with Truth-teller as he ranted about Rhysand for the millionth time. He was still upset about your High Lord telling him to stay away from Elain, even though he had completely ignored those orders anyways. As far as you knew, Rhys hadn’t brought it up again.

Your jaw was clenched as he brought up Lucien, laminating on how much Elain didn’t want him or the mating bond between them. You blinked away the tears that threatened to come. It almost felt like he was talking about the mating bond between the two of you—the one he still had no idea existed.

Your heart was pounding in your chest, your stomach tossing and turning. You were so in love with the male sitting before you, so in love with your best friend. And here you were, listening to him talk about another girl the way you wished he’d talk about you.

You cleared your throat when silence finally overtook the library, your eyes darting to the fireplace that was lacking any light—cold and dusty—the same way you felt inside.

“Don’t you think…” you started, not looking at Azriel, not sure you wanted to say the words lingering in your throat.

“Do I think what?” Azriel raised an eyebrow at you.

You looked away again.

“I don’t know,” you hesitated before continuing, “Don’t you think that Rhys might actually have a point?”

You were still focused on the fireplace as you awaited his response with a bated breath. It was the first time you’d addressed his interest in Elain without being positive. But you just had to poke at it once—just once to make sure you were right in keeping the mating bond from him.

“Oh Gods,” Azriel groaned. “Not you, too.”

“I’m just asking,” you said in your defense. “What if…what if in ten years Elain decides she does actually want to give Lucien a shot? The mating bond—”

“Is godsdamn stupid, is what it is,” Azriel scoffed. “She doesn’t want Lucien, Y/n. She wants me. We want each other. Is that such a bad thing?”

“No, I’m not saying that,” you grimaced, “But what if you find your mate? Would you…would you stay with Elain?”

“Of course I would,” Azriel answered without missing a beat, digging that dagger into your heart a little more. “I don’t have a mate and even if I did, I would only ever feel sorry for her. For being cursed and shackled to me. At least Elain is choosing me. She is choosing me, Y/n. Over her own mate. If that isn’t love, then what is?”

“I don’t know, Az.” You swallowed harshly, your throat closing up the further this conversation went on. You wanted to scream and sew your mouth shut at the same time. “Is that what this is? Are you truly in love with her?”

This was it. The question you had been avoiding for months. And his answer would solidify everything. It would either put the nail in the coffin between the two of you or it would lighten the weight on your shoulders for just a minute—give you a modicum of hope to hang onto.

“I am,” Azriel snapped, surprising you with his sudden ire. He rose from his seat, his eyes narrowing at you. “What is wrong with you? I thought you cared about me. I thought you were my friend, Y/n, and you’re acting just like Rhysand.”

You shot up from your seat, eyes wide. “No, Az, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way, I just—”

“No, I get it,” Azriel scoffed, cutting you off. His eyes were ice cold. He had never looked at you like that before. It made your heart pause. “You just want me to continue being miserable. Because that’s always been why the two of us got along so well. Both lonely and so unhappy and now that I’m finally not, you want to drag me back down. Maybe one day someone will love you the way me and Elain love each other. But just because no one does right now, does not mean I have to give up my happiness to keep being miserable with you.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, your lower lip wobbling. All you wanted was Azriel to be happy. It was another reason why you hadn’t said anything about the mating bond. Because he was happy with Elain and you didn’t want to throw a wrench into that. You hadn’t meant anything by asking him those questions—only wanted a bit of closure for yourself.

Well, you had gotten closure, all right. Azriel would never choose you. He was right. You were miserable and lonely and heartbroken. Why would he choose you? But you hadn’t expected him to be so harsh. A simple yes would’ve done the same. Tears slipped down your cheeks and the anger from Azriel’s eyes was washed away.

But you didn’t stick around to hear his half-assed apology. You couldn’t. Not when your heart was being ripped apart in your chest, not as bile was rising in your hoarse throat. You dropped your book down on the coffee table before fleeing from the room, ignoring his calls of your name as you left.

• ───────────────── •

But you're so full of shit,

Tell me it's a bit,

Say you don't see it, your mind's polluted

Say you wanna quit, don't be stupid

• ───────────────── •

Months went by, all meshing together. You had avoided Azriel since that day in the library. It hurt but being around him hurt even more. It was all you could do to protect your already broken heart. He didn’t reach out to you either, instead all of his attention went to Elain.

Elain who had finally told Lucien she would never accept their bond.

And so Azriel and her had finally proclaimed their love to the whole family. A family you felt yourself slipping away from bit by bit. No one even seemed to notice. After all, it had always been you and Azriel hiding away in the shadows—content to observe and love from the corners of the room.

But now it was just you in that corner, all alone.

You stopped going to family dinners, stopped hanging around the River House, stopped going to training with the Valkyries. You began to disappear from their lives day by day. You couldn’t bring yourself to stay. Not when your mate was in love with someone else—not as they all started new chapters in their lives and left you behind.

You had overstayed your welcome. No longer Azriel’s closest friend and confidant. No longer Cassian’s sparring buddy. No longer an extra ear for Rhys to run court decisions by. No longer Mor’s dancing partner or Amren’s pupil to bully.

You became a shadow of yourself. Sleepless nights led to a lack of energy and focus. Constant tears led to being voiceless. You couldn’t even resort to alcohol because it made the steely barrier you had put up to block out the mating bond come tumbling down, flooding you with all of Azriel’s feelings. Happiness, joy, lust, desire, satiation.

It was just a reminder that you weren’t the one giving him those things.

But you couldn’t disappear the way you wanted to. Not when a new war started with Koschei. Despite months of not being around, Rhysand still sent you a notice to come to a meeting to discuss strategy and to inform everyone of new developments.

You wanted to ignore the summons but the thought of Azriel going into battle again without you around to watch his back nearly sent you spiraling. So you made your way to the River House, eyes on the floor the whole time as you stepped inside and hung up your coat.

You were about to go up the stairs to get to Rhys’s office when a hand on your shoulder stopped you. You spun around and your breath caught in your throat as you came face to face with Azriel. You took a shaky step away from him, your hand coming up to grip at your chest. The mating bond you had been trying to ignore shoved its way through your defenses—bombarding you with Azriel’s emotions once again.

His hazel eyes were filled with a bit of guilt and remorse. “Y/n, I was wondering if you were going to show up today. I…I’ve been wanting to talk to you but you haven’t been around much.”

Your mouth opened and closed, no words coming out. You didn’t trust yourself to speak. Azriel hesitated for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck before speaking, “I never got to apologize for the things I said to you. It's not an excuse, but Rhys had just laid into me again about Elain before I found you in the library and I took my anger out on you when you were just trying to be a good friend and I am truly sorry for what I said to you. I didn’t mean any of it.”

“It’s okay,” you mumbled, looking away from him. His words had felt true that day. Besides, what he said to you might’ve been wrong but that didn’t take away from the fact that he was in love with someone else. Regardless of his apology, there was no way you could go back to being his friend. It hurt too much.

Azriel seemed to be waiting for you to say anything else and his shoulders deflated a bit when he realized you weren’t going to. He gave you a weak smile before summoning something from his shadows. An envelope. He held it out for you to grab. You took it from him with a questioning look.

“It’s an invitation,” Azriel explained. “Me and Elain are getting married. I wanted to deliver this to you in person. It would mean a lot to have you there, Y/n.”

You stared at the envelope in your hand.

Stared and stared and stared.

Even throughout the whole meeting with the Inner Circle, all you could do was stare at that godsdamn envelope. Because inside of it was the last piece of your broken heart, smashed and weeping. Azriel was getting married…and not to you. To her.

So when Rhys announced his plans of attack for Koschei and how he needed someone to act as bait for the Death God, you were the first to volunteer because you truly had nothing left to lose.

• ───────────────── •

And I don't know what I'm crying for

I don't think I could love you more

Might not be long, but baby, I

Don't wanna say goodbye

• ───────────────── •

“Are you sure you don’t want to sit up front with the rest of us?” Feyre asked.

You looked up at her from your seat in the very back of the temple, shaking your head. You gave her a blank look. “No, it’s all right. I’m fine back here. You know I don’t like that attention of sitting near the High Lord and Lady.”

Feyre gave you an understanding nod. “Okay, but you will sit with us at the reception. I’m not taking no for an answer.”

You nodded to appease her, knowing you had no intentions of staying past the ceremony. You were only here for one reason—because Azriel had asked you to be here and you could never say no to him. So here you sat, your chest empty and your eyes sore from the tears you spilled last night.

This wedding felt more like a funeral to you and in some ways, it was. You were saying goodbye to a future you could’ve had with your mate, giving up the final piece of yourself for his sake, and getting to watch him be happy and free, such a bittersweet feeling. All you had ever wished was that he could be happy with you but that was just a dream—that’s all it would ever be.

Elain looked so beautiful in her wedding gown, as she always did.

Azriel’s eyes lit up the moment she came through the doorway, striding down the aisle to him. He held out his hand for her, helping her up the steps to stand before him. They didn’t look away from each other for a single moment during the ceremony. He was so in love with her. So in love with her and not you…never you.

The whole room was bursting with joy but not you. You were happy for him, of course. But you couldn’t help but feel that ache in your chest and everything that came with it. The hurt, the jealousy, the grief.

Had he even really wanted you here or had it been a pity invite? It didn’t matter because he took no notice of anyone but Elain. So when the ceremony ended and everyone began to make their way to the reception, you slinked into the shadows and disappeared once again.

• ───────────────── •

I'll love you 'til the day that I die

'Til the day that I die

'Til the light leaves my eyes

'Til the day that I die

• ───────────────── •

The battle was over. Koschei had been defeated. You had gone through with serving as the bait for this plan to work. It had cost so much to finally take him down. So many lives, so much power. And you. It had cost you everything.

You were dying. Slowly.

But you knew this was the end for you.

Even if you could be saved, you didn’t want to be.

You wanted to let death embrace you in his cold arms.

You wanted to leave behind this life finally.

Everyone was still cheering and hugging with relief when you stumbled back into the war camp. You pressed a hand against the deep wound in your stomach, blood bubbling through the cracks in your fingers as you passed by everyone—no one taking notice of you or your severely injured state.

Not until you made it to the main tent where the rest of the Inner Circle had begun to celebrate the victory.

It was Feyre who noticed you first, her gasp alerting the rest of them to your presence. But you were only looking at Azriel as you stumbled into the tent, barely making it past the threshold before you crumbled to the ground. You choked on the blood filling up your mouth, some of it trickling out of your lips.

Azriel shouted your name, pushing Cassian out of his way to get to you. He knelt before you, eyes wide with panic as he grasped your shoulders. In the background, you could faintly hear Rhysand shouting for a healer but you knew it was too late for that.

You weakly smiled up at Azriel. This is what you wanted. To just see him one last time. To let his face be the last thing you see before death came to take you. You reached a hand out, letting your fingertips brush against his jaw.

It took you being gravely injured for the mating bond to finally snap in place for him. You knew the minute he realized. The mating bond hummed in your chest but its song was so quiet now…so, so quiet.

It was slowly fraying as your life dimmed.

“Mate,” Azriel choked out in a whisper, his hand resting on your cheek. His eyes were still full of panic. “You’re…You’re my mate.”

You nodded, coughing again and more blood slipped out of your lips and down your chin. Azriel shouted frantically for a healer before focusing on you again, his eyes searching yours. “You knew?”

You nodded again, your body sagging in his hold. He let out a panicked cry and pulled you into his lap. “How long? How long have you known?”

“A while,” you managed to croak, your fingers raising to caress his jaw again.

Azriel stared at you in horror as he shouted again for a healer. You could hear the pounding of feet and other panicked whispers but you tuned it all out. You just wanted to go peacefully. No screaming, no cries. Just you and Azriel for the last second of your life.

“Why?” he cried out, wiping one of your tears away. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You…were…happy,” you struggled to get out, your eyes closing with the effort. Azriel shook your body, tears filling up in his eyes.

“No, stay awake, Y/n, you have to stay awake,” Azriel pleaded with you. “The healer is almost here, okay. Just stay awake a little longer.”

“I-It’s…okay,” you mumbled. “Want…want to go.”

You coughed again, blood splatting your face. Azriel released a cry that nearly caused the ground to shake. “No, you can’t. You can’t go. You’re my mate, Y/n. You can’t do this to me!”

“I’ll find…you…again,” you slurred out. “Maybe…maybe I’ll be…good enough….then.”

You blinked once, your vision blurry but you could see Azriel’s beautiful face. Gods, he was so beautiful. He was screaming something but your hearing went along with your vision, slowly worsening until finally, your heart stopped beating in your chest.

And with that, the pain was finally gone.

• ───────────────── •

I knew you in another life

You had that same look in your eyes

I love you, don't act so surprised

• ───────────────── •

Epilogue

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #acotar x you #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel fanfic #azriel angst #azriel spymaster #acotar angst #Spotify

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moonlight-prose · 7 months ago

Text

SWEETNESS OF THE DAMNED

a/n: this was a quick drabble at first, but somehow turned into an allegory for persophone and hades. which isn’t surprising for me given that i’m already plotting october fics. logan isn’t a monster in this, nor is he a vampire even though the vibe and title may give that off. i just really love gothic vibes in everything i write so who better to give it to than old man logan.

summary: when night falls and wine overflows in glasses of crystal, logan finds his home in between your thighs.

word count: 1.2k+

pairing: old man!logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, p in v sex, alcohol consumption, allegories for persephone and hades, biting, scratching even though he heals, cumplay, overstimulation, squirting, dirty talk, older logan is so filthy i’m blushing.

The acrid embers of the fire burned your nose the deeper your breaths became. Red wine remained chocolatey and bitter on your tongue; the dinner you tried to eat quickly was now forgotten in favor of something else. You thought you could smell the cigar he smoked on the porch an hour ago on his bare skin. You couldn't.

Not when his fingers dug into your hips, lips pressed against the shell of your ear. He grunted with each slap of skin. The wet slick of how he pounded into you echoed loud and bright in the cabin.

You would have been embarrassed if it weren't for the sounds he let out. The way his eyes fell shut the closer you got to that fiery peak.

"C'mon baby," he sighed, ragged and needy. "I can feel ya."

Wine had gone to your head the second he poured you a third glass. Your red dress of crushed velvet lay in a heap on the floor. A pair of his jeans and a shirt beside it. The soft fabric of his flannel was smooth beneath your knees where he dropped it. Careful to keep your skin from going raw as he took you before dinner could even finish.

The alcohol is what brought this night to an early conclusion.

You already knew it would happen. Hoped for it on long days with hours that stretched for miles. Ached for his presence when you curled up in bed—the scent of his body still stuck on the cotton sheets. Logan promised to give you everything with a soft kiss at the door, his fingers gripping your chin to hold you there a minute longer. To slip his tongue past your maroon painted lips and lick along your teeth.

"'S too much," you garbled.

He laughed as you clenched around his leaking cock—tearing a deep moan from his chest. The heat of his body burned its way into yours where the fireplace couldn't reach. Each muscle and ridge along his stomach pressed into your back—his hips strong enough to break you slowed into punishing thrusts that bounced you on his thighs.

Time didn't exist; seasons began to blend into one.

The both of you resided where spring met summer and the shadow of night met fall's full moon. You wore a crown of wilted flowers—red spilling over your hands from where he asked you to bite into his skin. This was your damned hour. Your time of need.

You were the other half of an already broken soul, and he found that in your absence he couldn't hold it together for quite as long.

"You feel that?" His hand cupped your cunt—fingers spread around where he ended and you began. "She's leakin' for me baby."

"L-Logan," you gasped your throat thick with too many emotions.

The slow grind of his hips into yours sent your body hurtling towards yet another release. Your stomach was sticky where his other hand pressed - already coated in the three before. Holding onto the fraying pieces of your mind proved to be difficult when his teeth latched onto your shoulder. His fingers drew a shape around the edge of your throbbing clit.

His initials.

"You want another one don't ya honey?"

Yes. No. Please never fucking stop.

Instead all you could get out was a whine of his name. Your back arched into his hold, head pressed hard against his chest, as you fought to keep up with him. To grind against his lap and feel the drag of his cock along your walls.

"Yeah. You do," he murmured against your ear. "She wants to be good for me."

Down in the base of your stomach you felt the familiar pull of bliss begin to draw tight. You knew what came next. The rush of mind numbing pleasure trickled into your veins. Slowly drawing you higher with each stunted thrust—each echo of his fingers toying with your stretched cunt. You could count the seconds until it finally burst.

"I'm gonna–" The breath caught in your throat, hands clasping around his wrists as something shifted. "F-Fuck. Logan I'm–"

"Fuck yeah ya are," he grunted into your neck. "Gonna lick you clean after this. Get my fuckin' dessert."

His cock pounded deep against your walls, fingers pulling up the hood of your clit to circle rapidly against nerves that were already shot. And you sobbed his name. Your nails drew red angry marks on his arms that healed moments later; your body too fucking rigid and too hot to process what the fuck he was doing.

Elysium and the River Styx were ripping you apart. As if you were being pulled in two very different directions.

A clatter echoed beside you when he reached for your glass of wine, still stained with the now faded red of your lipstick. You felt his thigh shake—his cock twitching in the heat of your body. You wondered if this is what it felt like to burn alive. The sweet aching bliss of being held by your lover as he drowned you in the fire. Would this be how he took you to the Underworld?

The cold wash of wine spilled along your body as he poured out the remainder of the glass. His tongue quickly dragged across your blistering skin—drinking the cabernet off your body with a raspy groan of your name.

"'M almost there." He gripped the back of your neck and yanked you back with a kiss. His tongue plunging into your mouth—sharing the wine as his fingers pressed hard and fast against your swollen bud. "Give it to me huh? Fuckin' cum on my cock."

Your release ripped through your body with a scream. The echo of his name came back to you eventually, yet you couldn't figure out if you were the one saying it. With your nails piercing his skin, he felt you gush, choking his cock and milking him dry. A splatter of something wet landed on his thighs as he wrapped an arm around your waist to keep you still.

To bury himself as deep as he could go and finish with a blissful ragged groan against your shoulder. Wave after wave of ecstasy washed over your spent body and you felt him fill you until it began to leak out. Coating the inside of your thighs.

"Are you breathing?" he chuckled, lips sliding along your neck to find your mouth.

You answered with a whimper. Which proved enough for him.

The stickiness of the wine began to dry against your bare body while his fingers dragged through the mixture of your cum that stuck to your thigh. He sighed—content and warm—as he lowered himself to the floor. His back pressed against your clothes and softening cock still buried in your dripping cunt.

"Speak to me bub." His fingers tapped your cheek, nose nudging against your jaw. "I can't have killed ya."

"You almost did," you mumbled, barely able to open your eyes.

Exhaustion sunk right down to your bones the longer you lay there wrapped in his arms. You knew the both of you should shower. Clean up and actually eat something in its entirety this time around. Logan would say the same if it weren't for the comforting press of your weight against his body. He cupped your breasts, thumbs toying with your peaked nipples, and kissed you with a sigh.

The both of you should say something to get the other moving. Yet neither of you did.

Instead you were met with silence and the crackle of the fire. Time, now a nonexistent variable to a night spent in each other's arms.

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x y/n #logan howlett smut #logan howlett #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #my writing

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ubeb0nes · 3 months ago

Text

Sevika x Fem!Bar Owner!Reader - The One Who Pours the Drinks

Pt. 3 (can be read as standalone)

༇ ༇ ༇

Summary: After their (very homosexually-charged) estrangement a few weeks ago, Angel tries to bury the sour Sevika left in her heart. Sevika does the same, dismissing any meaning to be found in how she still makes sure to walk by the Five-Copper Furnace at least twice a week.

But one thing remains true: No one threatens the one who pours the drinks.

a/n: i'm a dirty filthy liar, i finished pt. 3 for bar owner reader before i even started my warmup for writing sevika's character LMFAO. will still do that prompt at some point!!

w/c: like 4.3k ish

༇ ༇ ༇

The world doesn’t stop spinning because of one person.

It’s a sentiment you were forced to be fond of in your life before the one you had now. People had always come and gone, it was the nature of the crime life, and it was certainly the nature of the Zaun one too. To stop and mourn for too long was to die.

And you had a business to run.

You did your best to count your lucky stars every night, reminding yourself as you wiped down the bar that there were other people. Plenty of women with smokey laughs and eyes like the moon. You were a good-looking bastard, you’d find the next one. You had all the time in the world now, away from the strife that used to follow you like a shadow.

Pay no mind to how you always swiped harder at the bar as you had these thoughts, slamming tumblers and plates into their places beneath the bar with extra vigor. Nor to how Zaun was about as different from Bilgewater as steel to iron.

Sevika’s men and their presence started to dwindle with hers, albeit more slowly; many of them almost seemed hesitant, apologetic. You caught one of them on your way into the bar to open it for the evening.

“I’m real sorry, Angel,” he’d said.

“I’m sure she’s got other work for you,” you said, waving him off as if it was- and indeed, it was- nothing personal. You only had problems with one ex-frequent of your bar. You weren’t even all that inclined to include the heavy muscle she brought in with her on the last visit.

“Always other work where the boss is concerned,” he affirmed, “But… this has been one of the better gigs.” You stayed static outside your bar for a moment as he walked away, your key still stuck in the lock.

It’s not like you needed protection in the first place, you were more than capable. Not that Sevika knew that. You grumbled to yourself as you organized the prep area behind the bar; you hadn’t had to give much mind to security the past several months, Sevika handled the matter in its entirety without you so much as having to ask.

You’d have to add that back into your list of tasks. Along with putting all the stools up at closing time. And what were you supposed to do with all these damn cigarillos you had behind the counter? You didn’t smoke nearly as much as she did.

You smacked a hand that wasn’t yours away from the aforementioned stash, smirking when you heard a small, “Ow, jerk!”

“You’re not old enough to smoke.”

“It’s Zaun, babies would smoke if they could,” the boy, a little tail of yours named Kix, retorted, pouting as he hopped up on the counter. You sighed. “I finished that book you gave me.”

“Yeah? How was it?”

“Pretty good! And, I think, as a reward for finishing it, I should-”

“Yeah, I’m gonna stop you right there,” you said, stepping away to move the lemons you just sliced into a container. Your tail, of course, followed.

“Fine, can I at least finally get a knife?”

“When you can wield one of those batons without smacking yourself in the face, yeah. ‘Til then, hell no.”

“That’s a bad word!”

“Like you care!” You could only breathe out a laugh. The children of Zaun were sharp, often leaving you deeply amused and incredulous.

“Ugh,” he said dramatically, flailing against the bar. You shot one of your patrons an apologetic look at the antics of Stray Wet Cat #1. “But you have so many, Angel!” He exclaimed, “How’d you get those anyway? Did you kill somebody?”

I killed a lot of people, you wanted to say, but something told you that wouldn’t have been appropriate. “I told you before, Kix,” you started, voice gentle like a teacher’s, “Zaun isn’t the only place in the world where you need to defend yourself. The world is way bigger.”

“Doesn’t feel like it,” he muttered to himself, pushing away from the bar and trudging back to the lounge area connected to the kitchen, where a few of the other kids spent their time. You frowned as you watched him walk away, then looked down at the paring knife in your right hand.

For the children of Zaun, life depended on which end of the knife you found yourself on, and oftentimes nothing more. How much were you really doing for them, giving them sandwiches to eat and rudimentary lessons on how to hold a blade? They all had to leave the bar at the end of each day, stepping back into the streets waiting to swallow them whole on their treks back home.

“Don’t be so hard on ya’self, Ang’,” the patron you’d shared a look with earlier interjected. You looked up at him in a daze, quickly putting on a thoughtful smile.

“I’m okay,” you replied simply.

“And so are those kids, thanks to you,” he said, “A little bit goes a long way in Zaun. These kids can stretch an inch of kindness, always have been able to.”

You saw eyes like slate in your mind as the gentleman went back to nursing his drink, and your smile faltered.

Weren’t these the kids Sevika claimed to be doing her righteous work for? What could she tell them as she chipped away at their safe haven, showing up bi-weekly just to take away a little more? You growled lowly as you swiped a cigarillo from beneath the counter, abiding the thought to linger in your mind- as if you could condition yourself to hate her faster.

You were busy staring down the end of the cigarillo as you lit it, almost too busy to notice how a wave of quiet had washed over the Five-Copper Furnace. Your eyes flicked to the door just in time, though.

Your busy mind halted all thoughts more trivial than the now, a low voice reminding you of the shotgun beneath your bar, the knives in your sleeves, and the preeminent experience in violence that scarred your skin. Four men wearing all manners of weapons, and gleaming belt buckles of meridian silver, stalked into your bar.

𒀭 𒀭 𒀭

Sevika was, for whatever reason, a woman well-versed in the department of odd and unwanted talents. Being weirdly good with kids was at the forefront.

“Oh! Captain-General Metal Arm Lady!” Well, she knew which kid that was*.*

“Why is my name so long?” She muttered to herself as she stopped anyway, and turned on her heel to face him. The boy, one of Angel’s little henchmen named Kix, skidded to a stop in front of her. “What is it, kid?” She asked gruffly.

“Where’ve you been? Are you and Angel having a lover’s quarrel?”

Isn’t he like twelve?? Sevika picked her jaw up from the ground as quickly as it’d fallen. “Who the hell even taught you what that is?” She asked incredulously.

“That’s a bad word. And I read it in a book. Are you coming to the Five-Copper?”

“No, I’m busy,” Sevika said flatly. Her brow furrowed at the way his face fell. Not like a child who’d been told no, but a boy who had something to fear. “…Why?”

“Well, uh… m-maybe you could just stop by?” He rocked back on his heels, looking over his shoulder at the bar in question. He’d caught Sevika so close to the place, he just needed to get her through the door… “I think Angel might… u-um…”

Sevika sighed. “Before tomorrow, Kix.”

“I think Angel might need you.”

Sevika scoffed, turning with a small flare of her cloak (drama queen), “She’s a big girl, she can handle herself just fine, kid. I gotta go.” A small, surprised grunt rose out of her when she felt a tug on her metal arm. She looked down at the boy, shooting him a glare that lacked even an inch of fire.

“Please, Miss Sevika! A bunch of guys just walked in and I don’t know them, a-and they have really ugly, scary faces, and-”

“Okay! Okay. C’mon, let’s go,” Sevika rattled her arm out of Kix’s grasp, sweeping it back beneath her cloak. The boy let out a small cheer as her broad form turned in the direction of the Five-Copper Furnace, and he fell into step under the cover of her shadow. “And don’t call me ‘Miss Sevika’. Just Sevika is alright,” she made a small, grossed-out sound.

“Okay! Does that mean we’re friends?”

“No,” she replied, giving his head a small nudge as they walked.

“Ack! Bully!”

The smile that began to flicker across her features promptly melted back into her perpetual frown as she watched almost half a dozen patrons leave the Five-Copper in succession. “How many of them were there, kid?” She asked in a low voice.

“Uh, I think four?”

Sevika hummed, stopping beside the entrance. She pulled Kix aside by the collar with her, as even more patrons filed out. “Are your friends in there?” She asked. The boy nodded. “Okay. Go get ‘em through the back. And go home.”

“But-!”

“Uh-uh. She’s already pissed at me enough, can’t imagine how mad she’d be if you brats got hurt once this goes down.”

“So…” Sevika felt a few grey hairs grow in at the same time Kix’s frown faded into a grin, “…it is a lover’s quarrel?”

“Kix!”

“Okay, bye Sevika!” He hopped up and down as if to charge himself up before sprinting off. Sevika watched as he nearly tripped over himself when he quickly halted again. “Uh… you won’t let them hurt Angel, right?”

“She’ll be fine,” Sevika said. She sighed as his feet stayed planted in the ground. Her voice was softer when she spoke again, “You have my word, kid. Angel will be okay.” He gave her a final grin, before darting off. Sevika cracked her neck as she zeroed back on the entrance to Angel’s bar. “Guess collections is early this month,” she muttered wryly, before pushing the door open.

𒀭 𒀭 𒀭

“These people don’t even know, do they?”

You breathed out tendrils of smoke from your nose, lowering your voice in line with the bounty hunter’s. His friends had stayed mute, opting to survey your patrons and the bar itself like three angry lighthouses.

You smiled slightly at those who hadn’t left yet, whose postures were coiled tightly like metal springs.

“I can’t imagine it’d change a thing,” you replied. You picked up the wanted poster (old fashioned, you were aware) he’d thrown on the counter, giving it another flippant once-over. Your likeness had been- rather skillfully- illustrated in the center, with meaningless words like ‘Wanted’ and ‘approach with care’ swimming around it.

God, I’m good-looking, you thought with a smile and a nod.

“And yet you have ‘em call you a different name. Bury your old one with the rest of your money, huh?”

“Oh, that isn’t buried. Not one bit,” Your face spread into a grin, wolfish teeth crushing the filter of the cigarillo. You saw the hunger that flickered in his eyes, a greed so romantically entwined with the people of Bilgewater that men died for it. Like this one would.

“Well, good to know! Between that and the hundred Golden Krakens on your head, you’ll make a fine cashout,” the rancid man said, “Angel.”

Your eyes widened slowly, mockingly. “A hundred Golden Krakens?” You echoed, “…Can I turn myself in?” Your eyes flicked casually to the door as you heard it open once again.

“Very funny. Now…”

Whatever the hunter had to say ceased to matter as you watched her walk in. Wide shoulders curved inwards, entering with the same intent your remaining customers all had. Sevika met your eyes immediately.

On one hand, not only was your safety further secured, but a return in a casket to your old city was all but out of the question now. Sevika wouldn’t let you die, at the very least, you knew that much.

On the other hand… Sevika was in your bar. Your eyes narrowed at her, and you gave her a look that practically screamed ‘piss off’ in spite of your other senses relaxing. She shook her head at you, matching your rising agitation with an annoyed curl of her lip.

Kix, she mouthed. Oh, thanks, kid. What a wingman.

You would’ve found it silly the way she stuck to the walls as she moved through the bar. Trying to get closer to you, you realized. A hand slamming down on the table and another grabbing your collar brought your attention back to more pressing matters.

Sevika felt her heart jump higher in her chest, and she resisted the urge to rush right to you and pluck that man’s head from the rest of him. A firm hand on her shoulder was all that prevented her, and she leveled her gaze with the fool who’d stepped in her line of view.

“We called dibs on this job, you’re too late,” the hunter said. Sevika furrowed her brows in brief confusion, but the pieces came together quickly in a mind as sharp as hers.

Bounty hunters? For you?

He gave her shoulder a shove, and Sevika let herself be moved. Some distance to deploy her left arm’s blade, good. “Go on,” he growled.

A scream from the bar counter swiveled all heads in that direction.

Sevika’s eyes widened as your name started to rise in her throat, until she saw the main perpetrator sink like a stone in water… his hand left behind in your grasp. You wiped the knife on your apron, throwing your still-burning cigarillo at him as he writhed on the floor.

Sevika threw her cloak to the ground before her sensibilities turned to steel.

𒀭 𒀭 𒀭

You would’ve made a fine alchemist, if you hadn’t chosen the more profitable industry of alcoholism instead.

You also would’ve been far less likely to have ever encountered Sevika and the all-consuming rage she inspired in you if you’d started an Apothecary. What with her- very much expected- aversion to seeking out any medical assistance of any sort.

“Ow.”

“Stay still.”

“Ow.” Sevika hissed when you pressed the tonic-doused cloth to her wound with the exact same vigor as before, thrashing away from you. You sat up straight, leveling her with a look that seethed with your indignance.

“You’re acting like a wuss.”

“And you’re acting like a child who didn’t get her way,” she snapped. Your eye twitched, and so you closed them to take a moment to gather yourself.

You missed the way Sevika’s gaze fell slowly to your lap, eyes creasing as she frowned at your battered hands. You hadn’t had time to pull your gun from beneath the bar before shit went down, and so you’d resorted to hacking with hand and blade. Sevika had been at your back like a magnet, sticking to you and letting the hunters come to her. You’d held your own valiantly.

She only serviced you a lukewarm glare as you moved back to her, this time gently easing the cloth onto her wounded cheek. You held her in place by the other side of her face. “You can take a punch but not a wound disinfectant,” you quipped.

“I took more than just a punch recently, princess.” Sevika side-eyed you when your touch faltered, letting out a shallow huff from her nose.

“Unbelievable…” you muttered.

“Who the hell were those guys? What could they possibly want with you?” Sevika asked. You jutted your lip at her in annoyance when her movements shifted the cloth.

She looked down to ponder the fight from a few hours ago (the lower floor was still an absolute wreck, but that was a problem for you to deal with tomorrow). Silver teeth; and weaponry not at all reminiscient of anything you’d find in Zaun, or Piltover. They had moved with an erratic tick to their attacks, not completely unlike the Shimmer-dependent henchmen Silco kept; although their addiction ran strictly red.

“They weren’t Zaunites,” she mused aloud.

“…No. They weren’t. They were from Bilgewater.”

You freed your other hand to reach for your wanted poster you’d nabbed before heading upstairs, and handed it to Sevika. There was a hanging silence between you as she read the same words over and over again.

“They got your likeness wrong,” she said. You pursed your lips, waiting. “Your head is bigger than that.”

“Shut up.”

Sevika chuckled; or at least gave a limp attempt at it. Her hand holding the poster fell with a soft crunch as she sighed. You let your own hands rest in your lap as she closed her eyes, and leaned her head over the back of your couch.

She had such a pretty neck. The lines of that strange scar were like wisps of blue smoke on her skin. You wanted to reach out to touch them, to thank her sweetly for defending you even as you spat fire on her wounds. You wanted to kiss all the smooth and rough patches you could see, lull her into a soft sleep-

“This is gonna get back to Silco in a couple of days tops.”

You scoffed. “What, is he gonna raise my rent? Doesn’t he have a revolution to claim to run?”

Deep down, you were impressed with what Sevika let you get away with saying to her. Inadvertently discounting her life’s work was no small thing, and you’d seen her put others on the ground for less. It was even more surprising when she gave a real answer to your poor-faithed question.

“You should’ve kept your head low. And let me deal with it. Not- cut a guy’s hand off.” She shook her head, rubbing her forehead. You opened your mouth to refute your lost honor, but she beat you to it, “You’re too… competent. He’ll wanna bring you in now. And you’re no good to the Undercity if he pockets you.”

You’re about to ask her why the hell does she work for him then, but another piece clicks into place before the words surface. Sevika watches the realization cross your face. “So that’s why you…”

“Trust me,” Sevika took hold of your wrist as she raised her head to stare scrutinizingly at your wall, and guided you to press the cloth back to her face. “The collections I take from you are cheaper than really being under his heel. You should see what he takes from that Sheriff up in Piltover.” She breathed out a humorless laugh. Your eyes widened, as the scope of Silco’s reach did too. **

You were a fool. Had going straight truly dulled your cunning mind? (Or was it just the handsome woman sitting in your living room…)

“That’s the discounted price too, by the way,” she muttered. You were pulled from your thoughts with a soft laugh.

“I knew you were fond of me.”

“I like what you do for the kids.”

“It’s nothing,” you said softly, surveying the injury on her face and deeming it sufficiently stabilized to move onto the next. You were glad, at least, that the brunt of the pain had been inflicted on you two rather than your good-willed customers.

Sevika’s brow furrowed as she watched you go through the motions of prepping her next injury. Truthfully, she didn’t know why she let you drag her upstairs in the first place; the way you coupled your attentive- if not presumptuous- touch with barbed jabs at her gall for walking into your bar should’ve pissed her off. But she let you move her like you were a breeze.

Your movements were practiced, like you’d spent a whole lifetime sweeping up the broken pieces of stupid, pointless fights. Sevika looked down at the wanted poster again. “…How much is 100 Golden Krakens?” She asked.

You hummed as you tried to think of the best comparison in Zaun’s economy, “Probably eightteen months’ worth of what I make running the bar.”

“Janna-”

You laughed heartily as you carefully peeled the wax paper from a bandage. Subconsciously, you rubbed over the wound once it was patched to soothe the ache, not noticing how Sevika’s gaze immediately went to your nimble hand. “Why, you thinkin’ about turning me in?” You teased.

“Funny,” she deadpanned, “Would be one less pain in the ass for me, though.” She gave you a pointed onceover. Her feigned exasperation melted into a grin when you slapped her leg (albeit very weakly).

“You just said you like me!”

“That isn’t what I said,” she said, still feigning dismissal so smugly. You hated how well she wore a petty smirk, or how pretty her teeth were when she gleaned a real smile.

(You wanted to kiss that stupid look right off her face.)

Instead, all you did was roll your eyes, collapsing on the opposite end of the couch. In Sevika’s mind, she just won that encounter.

“You mind if I smoke?”

You waved your hand, looking out the window of your kitchen, “Worse has happened in my house today.” She didn’t pull your gaze back to her until you heard her shifting around for a longer amount of time than it should’ve taken for someone to find a cig and lighter. “Lose your lighter?” You mocked, taking in the cigarillo hanging out of her mouth as she patted down her pockets with mild frustration on her face.

“One of the bastards must have knocked it out of my pack,” she said with an agitated sigh. Her eyes perked up at the metal clink of… your lighter. You laid your head back against the arm of the couch, resting the open lighter slightly above your abdomen. Sevika’s breath caught as she realized how close she’d have to get to you- how close you’d make her get to you- to get a light.

Her eyes narrowed into a glare as they slid up to meet your gaze. She wasn’t about to make a coward of herself now, though. She held your expectant stare as she leaned down between your legs, one of her hands boldly bracing on your shin with a slight squeeze. She cupped her hand protectively around yours as she lit the end of her cigarillo. The way your eyes widened and your chest stopped rising with breath wasn’t lost on her.

I take it back, Kix, she thought, I don’t think she’s all that pissed.

She turned her head to the side as she blew smoke from her mouth. “Tell me something,” she said, her voice nearly a purr. You had to fight with your own goddamn eyes to tear away from the small puffs of smoke that left her mouth as she spoke. You cocked a brow. “Were you a pirate or something?” She asked. Her eyes widened slightly when you met her with silence. “Oh, sweet hell…”

“Don’t laugh!”

She laughed. You loved that she did.

“That was… a long time ago,” you waved your hand like you could bat the memories away, but they’d never felt more with you than today. You had nearly forgotten how easy it was to snatch someone’s life away. You’d made a fortune on it once, and yet… the muscle of ruthlessness had grown weak and disoriented with lack of exercise. You frowned to yourself, shaking your head. “I did a lot of things I’m not proud of.”

Sevika shrugged, taking another drag. “We don’t choose where life puts us,” she replied. You shouldn’t have been surprised by such a… thoughtful sentence leaving her mouth. But your brows still raised slightly as you looked at her. “I’m not gonna be the one to judge you around here.”

You frowned, guilt jabbing in your gut. “But I did you.”

“Maybe you weren’t wrong for it,” she retorted softly. Your eyes widened. She inhaled softly before continuing, swiveling her gaze to meet yours again. “I used to try an’ push Silco to do more for the kids. Get books smuggled in in between all the Shimmer requisitions,” she scoffed, shaking her head. Your heart squeezed as you watched her carefully begin to pull the curtains around her true self back- for you. “Give people resources, just… something. I didn’t realize I let four years go by ‘til I saw you doing all that for the kids the moment you touched down here.”

You sighed, swinging your legs over the edge of the couch to rub your face with both hands. “You really think I won’t be able to help them at all once Silco comes knocking?” You asked, biting your lip as you felt like what was the only answer was slowly enclosing around you.

Immediately though, Sevika shook her head. Your mouth opened slightly in confusion as she stood up from your couch. “No. I’m gonna handle this,” the determination in her step would have been beyond adorable if it weren’t for your utter bemusement. “I… owe you,” she said slowly. You wanted to laugh at how her fierce bravado seemed to come to a skidding stop the moment she had to make an admission on her pride.

“Oh yeah?” You teased.

She rolled her eyes as she pulled her cloak back on over her shoulders, concealing that absolute unit of a figure from your prying eyes. You smiled at how her broad shoulders were still very apparent, and the beginnings of her v-line peeked out with that damn cropped vest- get it together, Angel. “He’s gonna know I was here anyway, might as well make something out of it,” she explained (right, you bought that…), pausing again to scrutinize you, “You’re all good?”

Trigonometric equations started floating around in your head as you tried to decipher what she could possibly mean with that question, until her arched brow turned judgemental at how long you were taking to answer.

Oh. She was just asking about your… general wellbeing. Aw!

“O-oh, yeah, I’m all good,” you said. Truthfully too, you were more used to fighting the Bilgewater types than her, and had come out of the confrontation mostly unscathed. Your jaw stuttered as if to say more when she hummed and took a swift step forward, tilting your head up with her index and thumb.

“You’re not lying?” She asked lowly, turning your head gently from side to side.

“E-even if I was, it’s none of your business,” you snapped defensively. Dumbass. Did you have any idea how red your face was?

With an amused exhale from her nose, Sevika gently let go of your chin, fleetingly brushing her crooked index over your cheek. “Whatever you say, princess,” she said. She didn’t even give you a chance to shoot back something clever (as if you had something prepared) before she was sweeping towards the door, fixing her cigarillo in the corner of her mouth. “Your bar’s a mess,” she quipped over her shoulder, just to be a dick.

“Fuck you!” You called after her, the smile on your face crystal-clear in your tone. The last thing you saw was her pretty side-profile as she half-glanced at you with smug amusement lining her face, before she closed the door behind her.

You slumped back on the couch, letting out a heavy sigh. “That goddamn woman…” you muttered, “Fuck.”

#sevika #arcane sevika #sevika x reader #ubebones writing #arcane #angel the pirate

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spideyjimin · 2 months ago

Text

Bloodlines entwined: III | jjk

⤷ having a baby alone was supposed to be easy. but an accidental twist of fate pulled you into a hidden world of werewolves, and ancient bloodlines. navigating your already complicated life becomes even harder as you uncover your past; one tied to a legacy you never knew existed. and in the middle of this chaos stands jungkook, the werewolf king… and the father of your child.

— pairing: werewolf!jungkook x female reader

— genre: strangers to lovers, parents-to-be au, royalty au, werewolves au, soulmates au, angst, fluff, and smut

— rating: 18+

— words: 7,460

— warnings: mention of death, murder, and abortion, crying, kind of heartbreak, nervousness, a tiny growing sexual tension, and some teasing

— author’s note: sssooo this chapter finally explains a bit more about the werewolf universe, and i hope it’s a bit clearer for you. a lot more explanations will come throughout the series as i can’t reveal it all in one chapter. the next chapter is actually my favourite and i definelty can’t wait to post it 😊 hope you’ll enjoy this one & let me know what you think <3

taglist is closed!

Chapter III: untold truth

SERIES MASTERLIST | previous | next

Jungkook spent the rest of the night thinking about you. He couldn’t believe what he saw. He couldn’t believe that you’re a werewolf.

Obviously, you’re not aware of it otherwise you wouldn’t have reacted the way you did when he revealed the existence of the werewolf word. Normally, you should have recognized him since he’s the king, but you didn’t. So, he strongly believes that you were adopted. That’s the only reason that could explain why you aren’t aware.

Now, he needs to understand why you were adopted. A pack never gives up on their little ones. He can think of many reasons why, but he needs to figure out what happened to you. He doesn’t want to simply reveal your true nature without having any certainty.

However, what concerns him is the fact that you haven’t turned yet. Normally, around fourteen years old, under a full moon, you should have experienced your first transformation. Maybe the fact that you ignore everything about that has caused your wolf blood to be dormant.

The next morning, he started looking into every record he has access to about the Shadows. The blue eyes are a characteristic specific to the Shadow pack. Every pack has its own eye color; it’s the way to distinguish every wolf. Jungkook’s pack, the Bloods, has red eyes. However, his eyes have a darker red shade. This is a trait specific to the king; he inherits it the second he goes from heir to king.

“Jungkook,” Taehyung, his best friend makes his way inside his office.

The man looks up at his best friend before a bright smile appears on his face. It’s been a little while since they last saw each other. Taehyung has been traveling a lot lately; he said he wants to discover the world before settling with his mate. However, it looks like he doesn’t want to settle down at all.

“Hey, Tae,” he stands up to greet his best friend. “What are you doing here? I thought you were lost somewhere in France.”

“Well, I needed to come back,” he replies with a smile. “Couldn’t stay forever in France.”

Both men start talking about what has been happening for the last month. Jungkook doesn’t go too much into detail. He only mentions he contacted a fertility clinic, and that he’s right now concerned about something happening in the Shadow pack.

Taehyung, on his side, tells his friend about all the places he went to. He was in Europe, discovering a lot of different countries. He definitely adored going around and discovering new cultures, new food, and meeting new people. For sure, his favorite place was Paris.

“Do you need any help with those Shadows research?” Taehyung asks casually although his sharp gaze indicates that he already knows the answer.

Jungkook nods, his shoulders visibly tense. He’s never been one to ask for help, but this time he definitely would need some.

“I wouldn’t refuse it,” he answers to his most trusted friend.

Taehyung crosses his arms, leaning against Jungkook’s wooden bookcase.

“What exactly are you looking for?” he frowns while grabbing a book.

“I don’t really know,” Jungkook says. “A record, a mention, a trace of a couple that died or disappeared,” he explains.

Taehyung looks up at his friend before looking down at the book again. By pure coincidence, the book he’s holding is an old one about the different werewolf packs. It’s one of the first books he read; it details the characteristics of each pack.

“A couple who died or disappeared?” he repeats his friend’s words. “Is this by any chance related to a girl?”

Jungkook freezes for a split second, but it’s enough for Taehyung to catch. He’s been very observant, especially when it comes to Jungkook.

“No,” he lies, his voice steady and firm.

Taehyung isn’t convinced; his eyes narrow as he studies his friend. He knows Jungkook better than anyone else, and while he’s very good at hiding his emotions, there’s something in his posture, something in the way he’s looking at Taehyung, that betrays him.

“You’re unreadable when you want it, you know that?” Taehyung finally says, walking closer to his friend who is standing behind his desk. “But something tells me this isn’t just about finding old records. If you’re diving into the Shadows' history, there’s a good reason behind it. You don’t waste your time on anything without a reason.”

Jungkook sights while running a hand through his hair. “It’s complicated, Tae.”

“You know I’m here, right? Whatever this is, whatever you’re digging into, you don’t have to do it alone.”

The werewolf king would love to tell him everything, but he doesn’t want to involve anyone at this stage. First, he needs to make sure you’re a werewolf, and only then, he’ll reveal it.

“I know, Tae. I just need to be sure before I tell you anything,” his voice lowers. “Before I tell anyone anything.”

Taehyung nods, understanding that his best friend will share when he’s ready.

“Alright,” he says. “I’ll start digging into the Shadow Pack archives. See if I can find anything about missing couples and unexplained disappearances.”

Taehyung’s aunt is married to a Shadow alpha so it will definitely help. As a king, he for sure has access to a lot of records, but not everything. Each pack has its own secrets, and that’s the beauty of it. If Jungkook knew everything, his job would be boring. There’s always something new to unveil. Like your past.

Taehyung disappears a little while after, leaving Jungkook alone with his eyes fixed on the flames in the fireplace. The shadows dance across the stone walls, but his mind is somewhere else, on you, and on the fragile heartbeat growing inside you. He can still hear it perfectly.

He runs a hand down his face before letting out a deep breath. This was never supposed to go down like that. This mistake was never supposed to happen. But the raw and undeniable truth has already sunk its claws into him.

How can he turn away from this? From you? From the baby?

He remembers the flicker of blue in your eyes. It’s been replaying constantly on his mind, but what is deeply engraved in him is this connection with you. He constantly feels your presence around him, something he’s never felt with anyone else.

Even though he’s been deeply sorry to have brought you to his world, this flicker of blue made him realize that he brought you to your world. A world you didn’t know existed until he revealed it. His duty has been telling him to stay away, but he can’t.

The thought creeps in quietly, yet with unshakable certainty: This was never a mistake.

The world may call it an accident, but Jungkook can feel something deeper, something ancient, something undeniable. Fate, destiny… whatever name it might have, it brought the two of you here. Together.

Every choice and every moment has led to this point. To you.

Now, standing quietly in his study, he feels the truth settling deep in his bones. This child growing inside you was always meant to happen. Jungkook leans against the edge of his desk.

“I can’t abandon this child, my child,” he whispers to himself. “I can’t abandon yn.”

It isn’t about duty anymore. It’s about you. It’s about the fragile life caught between two worlds, and the bond he can already feel forming. Whether he’s ready to admit it or not. Jungkook straightens up, shoulders squared, and jaw tight. The king in him knows what needs to be done, but the man knows what he wants to do.

“I’m staying,” he runs his hand over his hair.

This isn’t just a choice. It’s the acceptance of what was always meant to be. Whatever challenges await, Jungkook knows one thing with absolute certainty: This was always supposed to happen.

For the past five days, Jungkook and Taehyung have been trying to find anything about missing couples and mysterious disappearances, but it’s been in vain. There’s absolutely nothing. Thirty years ago, nothing special happened.

However, Jungkook asked Sungmin, Taehyung’s uncle to meet. Records are one thing, but Jungkook knows better than anyone that there might have been something off records that happened. Some secrets are kept hidden, locked away in the minds of those who lived them.

“Thanks for having me, Mister Song,” Jungkook says as he enters Sungmin’s house.

“I couldn’t refuse my king’s visit,” he replies with a warm smile.

Many people believe that the Alphas of every pack refuse the authority of a king, but those closest to the throne are often the first to kneel. For sure, Jungkook’s natural leadership certainly helps. However, the truth is that the werewolf hierarchy isn’t just a tradition; it’s more than that. Every werewolf deeply holds onto it.

“I could say that I’m surprised, but it’d be a lie,” he admits while he guides Jungkook towards the terrace. “I was expecting it after Tae’s request.”

“I imagine,” Jungkook responds.

The covered terrace is a serene and private space. Jungkook’s eyes quickly scan the surroundings. It’s a little but pretty space. Plates, cups, and a selection of biscuits are neatly arranged on the modest wooden table.

“Would you like some coffee or tea?” Sungmin gestures for Jungkook to sit.

“A coffee would be fine,” Jungkook answers.

The man takes one of the porcelain carafes on the table and carefully pours the drink into a cup, placing it in front of Jungkook.

“I was originally looking for a couple’s death or disappearances in your pack, but I couldn’t find anything documented,” Jungkook is straightforward.

Sungmin nods thoughtfully. “When do you believe this event happened?”

“Around thirty years ago,” he says.

Tae’s uncle freezes for a brief moment at his answers. His eyes flicker with something that Jungkook recognizes instantly: recognition mixed with hesitation. This is it. This might be the key to understanding your past.

“Something did happen thirty years ago,” Sungmin admits. “But we didn’t keep any trace of it out of respect to the family concerned.”

Jungkook is definitely very intrigued about this.

“The eldest daughter of an estimated member of our pack fell in love with a human. Despite our objections, she decided to run away with him. We all knew why,” he shakes his head as he remembers the sad story. “She was pregnant with that human child.”

The werewolf king listens patiently, absorbing every word.

“We didn’t inform your father immediately as we thought we could handle it ourselves. Involving the king into this would have drawn unwanted attention to this. For us, Shadows, discretion is everything.”

Jungkook nods, knowing perfectly the Shadow’s reputation. They are the ghosts of the werewolf world, unseen and often unheard, but fiercely loyal and deadly when necessary. The Shadows blend into their surroundings, disappearing when needed.

“We looked for them for years but couldn’t find them,” he seems really affected as he recalls what happened. “They were clever. They stayed hidden, and after nine years, we had no choice but to involve your father.”

Jungkook nods, understanding that after all that time, it’s normal to be reaching out to the king. “And he found them.”

Sungmin sighs deeply. “Yes. Your father had better resources than us. Within a year, he found them. Thankfully, this stayed between us and the king. He let us deal with this internally,” he explains.

The air feels heavier now, the weight of unspoken words pressing down on the two men.

“They were living in a totally different city. And they had indeed a child. A ten-year-old kid…”

Jungkook notices how hard it is for Sungmin to remember this terrible event.

“It was very hard to end their lives, but we had to. The woman, her human mate, the kid, the life they had built… all of it was extinguished.”

Sungmin pauses, his throat tightening. For a moment, Jungkook sees the weight of guilt appearing on the older Alpha’s face.

“Killing a child was way too hard, but hybrids are forbidden. A child of two worlds, carrying both human and werewolf blood could destabilize everything. We told ourselves it was necessary.”

Jungkook grips the edge of his coffee cup, his jaw clenched. The thought of such a decision sits uneasily within him. He’s not sure he would have had the strength to do that. It is one thing to terminate a pregnancy, but killing a ten-year-old child is totally another story.

“Did anyone else know about this? Anyone outside the pack?”

“No, only your father, and now you.”

“Do you think it’s possible that the child survived?” Jungkook asks, his voice steady but intense.

Sungmin looks directly into his king’s eyes. “We are certain they didn’t.”

Jungkook leans back in the chair, his mind racing. If the child had somehow survived, if they had slipped through the cracks of fate, then everything changes. And if that child was you… He shakes his head, not sure that it’s possible.

“Thank you, Mister Song. This has been illuminating.”

Jungkook steps away, his heart beating fast. There are too many resemblances between this story and your story.

To yn: hi yn, could we meet tonight or tomorrow?

Barely a minute later he receives an answer.

From yn: hi Jungkook, tonight is fine. Same place as last time?

To yn: sure

As you’re walking towards the location you agreed with Jungkook, you try to understand the reason behind his sudden need to talk to you. This is unexpected for you, so it definitely makes you nervous. Is he going to tell you that he changed his mind about the baby? Is he going to pressure you to abort considering the hybrid situation? Or even worse, has something happened? Your mind races through every possibility.

“Calm down, yn,” you mumble to yourself.

You take a deep breath, your eyes closing for a brief moment. The beating of your heart drums in your ears, and slowly, you can hear it calming down. You can’t start overthinking before you even get to listen to what Jungkook wants to tell you. Maybe it’s nothing serious or something you have to really worry about.

When you arrive, you notice you’re the first one; Jungkook hasn’t arrived yet. So, you decide to sit on the closest bench. You look at the passersby walking around you with ‘Tití Me Perguntó’ from Bad Bunny playing in your headphones. It’s one of your favorite songs.

After a couple of minutes, you feel Jungkook’s presence. Your eyes stare at the surroundings to check if he’s indeed nearby. Your senses are right, you see a man walking in your direction. Even when he walks, he has such an imposing posture.

This presence feeling grows stronger as he gets closer to you, and you can’t seem to look away, as if your eyes are glued on him. Weird things have been happening with Jungkook since you’ve met him, and you can’t quite explain them.

Once he’s in front of you, you stand up, a smile naturally growing on your face. He’s incredibly handsome and charming. Once again, he has opted for a casual look: a white shirt layered under a leather jacket completed with loose, brown suede-like pants.

His strong presence near you soothes you in a way you never experienced before. All the nervousness you were feeling minutes ago is completely washed away. His strong and bestial scent fills the air and calms down your racing thoughts.

For a moment, you remain in silence, but it isn’t an awkward one. It’s actually quite the opposite. His gaze holds yours, and the intensity of his eyes draws you even more. It feels like none of you needs to speak. It is as if the two of you are communicating on a deeper level that doesn’t need language.

“Hi,” you break the silence.

“Hey, yn,” he takes a step closer.

By the way he approaches you, you sense he’s about to hug you or something similar. You prepare yourself for such, but he ends up not doing it. Jungkook just stands there, a shy smile appearing on his face.

“How have you been feeling?” he asks with evident concern in his voice.

As always, being around him comforts you. It makes you feel like you don’t need to hold anything back. There’s no need to hide your thoughts and feelings behind a mask. You can be entirely honest, saying what you truly feel without the fear of being judged. It’s part of the weird things you’ve been experiencing with Jungkook. It’s something you never felt with anyone else, not even an ex. This makes you wonder just how much this connection truly means.

“Very much torn apart by the decision I need to make,” you admit.

“Have you already considered one of them?” he questions.

You decide to sit down on the bench, your hands rubbing your face. Should you be telling him that you’re very much inclined to keep the baby? Isn’t it better if he doesn’t know anything? In any case, he won’t be around anymore. He said he’d walk away.

“I’ve kind of made a decision,” you try to be as vague as possible.

Jungkook takes a seat next to you. This time around, he doesn’t seem to try to look away from you. His deep dark orbs stare straight into your eyes. As usual, he’s pretty much unreadable, but he has that soft expression on his face. It almost looks like he truly cares and worries about you.

“In case you…” he seems to hesitate, but he doesn’t look away. “If you keep the baby,” he continues, and your heart starts hammering in your chest. “I think I won’t be able to step away.”

You close your eyes while taking a deep breath. You’re not sure what you’re supposed to be feeling right now.

“I thought stepping away was the right decision,” he starts explaining. “Every time I tried to pull back, I find myself being drawn to you… to our child.”

The word ‘our child’ sends shivers down your spine.

“I can’t turn my back on this—not on you, not on them.”

As he says those words, his eyes look down at your stomach, where a precious life is growing. Even though your eyes are closed, you can feel his gaze on you. You can feel it on your baby. You can simply feel Jungkook. His entire being calls for you, and your body responds to it by being completely drawn to him.

“Why now?” your voice trembles as your eyes open to look at him. “What has changed?”

This doesn’t make any sense. Almost a month ago, he told you that he couldn’t father this child because you aren’t a werewolf, and that this child's existence is completely forbidden. Things are still the same, nothing has changed since then.

“You said you couldn’t have this child because of the whole werewolf thing,” your voice tone is slowly getting higher.

Jungkook’s face now seems to soften and it looks like he carries an emotional weight. There is definitely something going on that you can’t quite explain. And it’s scaring you.

“I think…” he runs his hand through his hair, a nervous gesture you’ve started to recognize. “You’re not just a woman carrying my child,” he seems to struggle to express what’s inside his mind. “I think you might be one of us.”

His words hand in the air, your entire body freezing. For a moment, it feels like the world completely stopped moving. You blink at him, trying to process the enormity of what he just said. At this stage it feels like, Jungkook likes to make cruel jokes. First, it’s the werewolf world, and now, it’s this. How on earth can you be a werewolf? It’s simply impossible. If that was the case, you would have already turned or something like that.

“What are you talking about?” the sharpness of your voice even surprises you.

Anger grows inside you, but it masks the deeper emotion of fear that you can feel. Your heart starts pounding erratically in your chest as the air grows heavier. How dare he? How dare he turn your world upside down with this unbelievable claim? You stand up, trying to calm yourself down.

“That’s impossible,” you say with a trembling voice.

You rest a hand on top of your heart, trying to anchor yourself, but the panic bubbling beneath your surface is relentless. The thought of upsetting the baby crosses your mind, but it doesn’t help to calm you.

Jungkook stands as well, hands raising as if he’s about to reassure you, but as he does so, he watches you disappear before his eyes.

“It’s incredible,” he whispers to himself.

Now, he has solid proof that you’re indeed a werewolf, a member of the Shadow pack.

“Yn, listen to me.”

“No, Jungkook,” you cut him off. “I am not a werewolf. That��s ridiculous. If I were one, I would have transformed or something like that.”

“Maybe,” he says quietly. “But you didn’t know you were one so things might work differently in that case.”

“Stop!” you scream. “Just stop. Do you even hear yourself? Do you even realize what you’re saying?”

Jungkook stands there, looking somewhere, but he doesn’t even know where you are.

“Take your phone, yn,” he tells you.

“What?” you say with evident surprise, and your anger turns into confusion.

“Just take your phone,” he repeats, his tone calm but firm.

Still breathing heavily and with shaky hands, you look for your phone in your purse. You’re not sure why he’s saying that or what to expect when you look at your phone.

“Now, pretend like you’ll take a selfie.”

As you look at him, there is something in his expression that compels you to obey. Slowly you lift your phone, positioning it in front of your face. The moment your screen comes into view, your breath catches in your throat. Your reflection is completely gone.

Your mind struggles to understand what is going on. The town square is visible in the background, clear as day, but your face is missing. It’s as though you’ve been erased from existence.

“What is happening?” you almost scream. “What kind of sorcery is this?”

Your gaze remains glued to the phone, your hand trembling so much that the image blurs. You’re gone. Completely gone. Your hand instinctively goes to your face, touching your skin as though it might bring you back into view. But when you glance at the screen again, even your hand remains invisible. This can’t be true. How can you even disappear? How is that possible?

“It’s not sorcery,” he calmly replies. “It’s you. It’s your nature. Only a werewolf can do that.”

“No! That’s not true. That’s not who I am. I’m human. I’ve always been human,” you shake your head before putting your phone back in your purse. “But I’m carrying your child so that must be it.”

Jungkook shakes his head.

“That’s not how it works, yn. I swear,” he’s trying to look for you, so it makes him look like a crazy man. “Pregnancies only bring out even more any abilities someone has,” he explains. “This pregnancy is simply revealing your true nature.”

Tears stream down your face while your heart hurts.

“Have you been experiencing some weird stuff lately?” he says. “Like heightened hearing or smell or night vision or superhuman strength or even super speed.”

Then, your body freezes once more.

“No,” you answer, and for a moment, you hesitate to reveal the truth. “But I’ve always had heightened hearing and smell, and I perfectly see in the dark.”

This all confirms what he says. You’re a werewolf.

“I can hear your heartbeat,” you add. “I can hear everybody's heartbeats, even the baby’s.”

You close your eyes, the truth violently hitting you. All this time you’ve been a werewolf, and nobody told you anything. You’re not sure Felix knows it, but it hurts to realize that your parents hid something so big from you. It’s your nature after all.

“You have your answer, yn,” he responds.

Now, you’re crying because the world is collapsing underneath your feet. Your life has been filled with lies, and you’re only discovering this now. It hurts even more that it’s the father of your child who’s revealing this and not your parents.

Jungkook follows the sound of your tears to come closer. You fall in his arms, holding him as tight as possible. He tries to hold you back in his arms, but he doesn’t see you at all. The only thing that can make you reappear is for you to relax. Your emotions are the keys to your powers.

“Focus on the baby’s heartbeat,” he murmurs in your ear. “Focus only on that.”

While tears keep running down your face, you try to search for your baby’s heartbeat. It’s super faint, but you quickly find it. This little sound has rocked you to sleep so many times, and it’s one of the most comforting sounds you’ve ever heard.

“Tudum, Tudum, Tudum,” Jungkook starts mimicking the sound of the baby’s beat.

You close your eyes to only focus on that sound. Slowly but surely, you reappear which reassures Jungkook, and he holds you tighter in his arms. His warm embrace and the sound of the baby’s heartbeat calm you down. He presses a gentle kiss on your head while his hands start to soothe your back. Seeing you like this is heartbreaking, and he hates the fact that he was the one delivering this news.

For a little while, you both remain like this, and his arms feel like the safest place on earth. Even if you hate this entire situation, his presence reassures you. Everything about this moment right now appeases your soul. There is absolutely no doubt that the reality you now have to face is devastating, but you feel like you’ll have Jungkook by your side. And strangely, it seems like it’s the only thing that you need.

Today was a hell of a day!

Everything was simply awful, and it felt like it was a never-ending day. Your mind was constantly thinking about the words Jungkook said. ‘I think you might be one of us.’ You swear you could hear them on repeat all day long.

Due to how you’ve been feeling, you’ve left everybody on read—even Jungkook. Dealing with this strange reality is too heavy, and you need space. You need some time to digest the news. You need time to simply breathe.

Once you’re at home, you wrap yourself in your Harry Potter robe, lay on the couch, and play the first Harry Potter movie. Right now, all you need is to find comfort in something, and Harry Potter is your escape.

Although the movie is playing in the background, you’re not really watching it. Your thoughts are totally lost somewhere else, somewhere that includes werewolves. You can’t believe that this is your new reality. It hurts deeply that your parents never said anything to you. How could they keep something so monumental from you? Were they intending to let this part of themselves, this part of you die in silence?

Things would have been completely different if they had informed you about that side of you. Maybe you would have sought answers earlier. Maybe you would have explored what it means to carry this legacy. There is a whole culture, heritage, and part of yourself that you’ve missed out on for thirty years. And what hurts the most is that you hate your parents right now. For years, you’ve been hating your parents’ murderer, and now, the tables have turned.

You hate them for what they withheld, for what they never gave you a chance to understand.

This whole journey of becoming a mom has been a complete nightmare. This hasn’t been going as planned. This has been anything but easy. And now, it leaves you wondering if you should really keep the baby. Maybe, you should simply terminate the pregnancy and leave this all behind. But will this be so simple? Obviously, not.

Terminating the pregnancy won’t change anything. It wouldn’t change the fact that Jungkook came into your life to completely wreck your world. Cutting short the life growing inside you will probably just make you feel guilty for doing it. Jungkook won’t disappear, and neither will your wolf side.

This isn’t fair.

Fairness has never been part of your life. It feels like your life has always been robbed. Everybody has been controlling it, making you feel completely powerless all the time. This pregnancy was about gaining control again, but even like that, it wasn’t. A big part of you wants to keep this baby, and you’re very much inclined to keep them. But you don’t know. Jungkook’s revelation still needs to be processed.

“What am I going to do, baby?” you whisper as your hands naturally caress your stomach.

In the end, this baby isn’t a hybrid one. They’re fully a werewolf. You can understand why Jungkook changed his mind. He didn’t want the child because he believed it was a hybrid, something completely forbidden in his world. But now that it’s not the case, he wants to be part of his child's life, if you keep it.

It makes perfect sense, but the hurt remains. He gets what he wants, doesn’t he? The chance to raise his child. But what about you? What about what you want?

“You’re a wolfy,” you continue saying. “So, your daddy wants you now.”

However, if you keep this child, you’ll have to teach them what it means to be a werewolf. You’ll have to guide and prepare them for a life you know nothing about. You’ll have to learn everything with them; every instinct, every tradition, and every secret. You’ll develop your wolf’s abilities together. This life inside you isn’t just a new life; it’s a symbol of your own transformation. This child represents the end of your human life and the beginning of something different.

Are you ready for that?

You’re not sure. You’re not sure if you want to embark on this new journey. A journey where you figure out who and what you are. A journey where you’ll have to dig into your parents’ past. A journey where you’ll have to face your ghosts. A journey where you might find all the answers you’ve always desired to have.

Jungkook seems to hold the key to all of that. The truth, the answers, and the future. You need him, more than you want to admit. He’s the only werewolf you know, and he might as well be your guide on this.

Even if everything scares you, this is what will help you to figure out what happened to your parents twenty years ago. This is the key to finally getting to truly know them. This hasn’t been going as you planned it, but it has been going the way you need it.

For now, you’re simply going to enjoy this comforting and reassuring movie before truly facing this new reality of yours. Tonight is your last night as a human, and tomorrow, you’ll start to understand what it means to be a werewolf.

For the millionth time, you check that your apartment is perfectly cleaned and tidied. Jungkook is coming tonight; you’ve invited him over to discuss this werewolf thing. You’re incredibly nervous as you’re very scared of how things could go. Are you going to learn some unpleasant truths about your lineage?

Also, you can’t forget to tell him you have your first ultrasound tomorrow. He’ll probably want to come as he’s expressed his change of mind concerning this child. Your child. Instinctively your hand cradles your stomach.

Before the doorbell echoes in your apartment, you sense Jungkook’s presence behind the door. This thing of sensing him is definitely extremely weird, and you’re not even sure you’ll get used to it. But you guess, it’s part of being a werewolf.

You take a deep breath while opening the door to him. As he comes into view, his beauty takes your breath away. His hair is perfectly pushed back, only a strand of hair falling on his forehead. This time around, he’s dressed in a more formal outfit. Like the first time you met him at the clinic, he’s wearing a suit. Only this time, it’s a dark blue one.

And it fits him so well.

A smile grows on his face when his eyes lay on you. It warms your heart, and you can’t help but smile back at him.

“Hi, yn,” he says.

“Hi, Jungkook,” you reply. “Come on in,” you take a step back to let him in.

Jungkook steps into your cocoon, his gaze briefly wandering at the entrance. With practiced ease, he shrugs off his long black coat, the movement accentuating the subtle play of his muscles. Your curious eyes can’t help but follow the way his shoulders shift and his arms flex as he removes his coat and slips off his shoes.

A little grin shows up when he realizes you’ve been staring at him. However, you both pretend you didn’t notice what the other was doing. It’s like you’re pretending you don’t feel drawn to each other.

“Would you like to drink or eat something?” you politely ask.

“No, no,” he shakes his head. “I’ve already eaten and drank enough for today,” a little giggle escapes his pretty lips. “I had a long and exhausting meeting this afternoon.”

“Oh,” you simply say. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to eat a bit because I’m quite hungry.”

His eyes inevitably look down at your stomach, the sound of the child’s heartbeat resonating in his ears. It’s such a comforting sound.

“No,” he answers. “Eat as much as you want.”

You drag him to the kitchen so you can eat something while you discuss about the madness that your life has become. You open the cabinets to check what you have, but then, you remember you bought your favorite yogurt two days ago. Without no further hesitation, you move to the fridge, grab it together with a spoon, and start eating it.

While you do that, Jungkook’s eyes are glued on you. His stare carefully follows you as you move through the kitchen. Honestly, he’s glad to be here with you; he finally gets to see you in your comfort zone, and you definitely seem to be glowing in this place.

“Can I ask you what you do for a living?” you ask while bringing the spoon to your mouth.

His eyes follow your hand before looking up. He leans on the cabinets while never looking away from you. Jungkook crosses his arms on his chest and heavily considers what to tell you.

“Well…” he seems hesitant to reveal it. “I’m not sure you’re going to believe me.”

You tilt your head, wondering what it could be. Is he working with the mafia like you thought before he announced his wolfy side? Or is he some kind of criminal? Or is it the opposite, like a doctor?

“Try me,” you tease him.

Jungkook didn’t know up until now how much he needed to hear the teasing tone in your voice.

His eyes never cease to follow your hand’s movements with the spoon. It’s mesmerizing, holding him captive as if he’s unable to look away. The way your lips wrap around the spoon sends shivers down his spine. Jungkook shakes his head, pushing away those weird thoughts. It’s inappropriate.

“I’m a king,” his tone is firm, leaving no room for doubts.

You almost choke with the spoon in your mouth. Of all the jobs you considered, this one definitely wasn’t on the list. This is beyond unexpected and by the way he looks, you know that he isn’t joking. You’ve seen his serious face so many times now, so you know he’s telling the truth.

“A king?” you repeat to make sure you heard it right.

Jungkook nods, and then, you can’t unsee it. This entire outfit breathes power—and money—, his charisma is beyond magnetic, and he has a strong presence. Let’s not forget about the unreadable face he always has on. There is definitely something royal about him, and he definitely looks like a king.

“That makes the child in my belly a future king or queen then?” you ask half-jokingly.

“Yep,” he answers. “And as a king, I’m expected to give the perfect heir, so the hybrid child wasn’t really one.”

When he explained the situation a month ago, everything made sense, but now it makes even more sense. This child carries royal blood.

“I’m not carrying anyone’s kid,” you playfully say. “A king,” you whisper.

This definitely changes your view of the situation. Now that he wants this child, it makes them the heir to the werewolf throne. The baby growing inside you will one day be a king or a queen. It makes you feel important but scared as well.

“It’s crazy,” you look up at him while bringing the spoon to your mouth once more.

Right there and then, your heart skips a beat when you realize the way he’s looking at you, or should you say, the way his eyes are devouring you. You can’t remember the last time someone looked at you in that way.

“It is,” he admits.

“And what does a werewolf king do exactly?” you curiously ask.

“Many things,” he smiles at you. “I’m the supreme leader of the packs which makes me the bridge between them. If any issue arises between them, I have to resolve them and also make sure the werewolves follow the rules. I’m also their protector. I must ensure the laws are respected and nobody reveals our secrets. And do many other things, but those are the most important ones.”

You nod, wondering if these responsibilities aren’t too much of a burden for him. It mustn’t be easy to be the one making decisions, and it definitely sounds like the entire werewolf world relies on him.

“And you?” he asks. “What do you do?”

A bright smile appears on your face. “I’m an Elementary teacher.”

Thinking about the little kids you see every day simply makes you happy. Being able to give those little humans the tools they need to grow in this world is one of the most fulfilling things. This job has been healing your inner child because teaching those young children has allowed you to guide and give them a stability you never had in your childhood.

“Oh, nice,” he says.

The yogurt is now over so you suggest going to the living room. This way, you’ll be sitting comfortably on the couch while discussing the hot topic. Werewolves.

Last night, while in bed, you were mentally going through all the questions you might have for him. There is so much for you to know about this new world, this new heritage. For sure, last night, you didn’t know he was a king, but now that you do, you believe that he might help you a lot more than expected.

Jungkook sits down next to you, and you decide to face each other.

“So,” you start saying. “I guess you can imagine why I invited you.”

The man sitting next to you nods. “Your wolf blood.”

“Indeed,” you nod as you speak. “I have a lot of questions.”

You don’t even know where to start.

“You said there are packs,” you begin. “Would you know to which pack I belong?”

“Yes,” he answers without hesitation. “The Shadow pack,” he pauses for a couple of seconds. “Each pack has a wolf eye color. Mine is red as you’ve already seen, which indicates that I’m the king and member of The Blood pack. The Shadow’s eye color is blue, and for the third and last pack, The Lunar, it’s white,” he explains. “A week ago, I saw your eyes turning blue, that’s how I discovered it.”

The Shadow, The Blood, and The Lunar. Three packs. You mentally register the information he gives you. There is so much to discover about this new reality.

“The Shadows also have unique abilities, one of them being the fact that they can blur into their surroundings.”

That’s what happened to you two days ago after he revealed your true nature. It was just the confirmation of who you are.

“As far as I can remember, I’ve only had heightened senses, but I never came to shift into a wolf. How is that possible?”

“That is something I ignore,” he admits. “You’re the first werewolf who didn’t grow up with her pack’s member. My first guess is the ignorance of your nature prevented it from fully revealing itself.”

You look down at your feet on the couch. It seems so weird that only a part of your abilities has revealed itself throughout your life.

“I’ve tried to find something about you, but I couldn’t,” he admits. “I even reached out to an Alpha of the pack, but nothing.”

“Oh,” you simply say, your eyes meeting his. “Do you think I could meet that Alpha?”

“Yes,” he smiles at you. “I’m sure he’d be happy to meet you, and he might probably help you more than me with your past and even your abilities.”

Jungkook then proceeds to explain how the werewolf world works. There is a hierarchy. Alpha, Beta, Delta, and Omega. Alpha being the highest rank, and you only achieve it once you fully master your powers. Logically, you’re an Omega as you barely know what you can do. Jungkook is an Alpha which makes sense since he’s a king.

If you keep the baby, they will automatically become an Alpha when they become king or queen. Things work a bit differently for the royal family.

Normally, a werewolf experiences their first shift on the first full moon of their fourteenth anniversary. The difference with the royal family is the fact that they experience that at ten years old. It’s quite early in life, but that allows them to master their abilities a lot earlier than any other werewolf.

Obviously, the parents and the family remain by your side throughout your first full moon. They guide you through the pain when transforming, and they stay with you while you’re a wolf. Jungkook tells you that the first transformation is very hard to handle. The pain is unbearable and once you’re a wolf, all your human senses disappear. You’re just a beast. A hunting beast. Having your family by your side prevents you from killing anyone or anything. Slowly and with a lot of work, you are able to control that primal urge.

The question left hanging is when and if you’ll transform. If this pregnancy brings out your wolf blood, there are higher chances that you’ll experience your first full moon. But Jungkook doesn’t have an answer to give.

Then, he informs you that you can’t transform someone by biting them, that’s an absolute myth. Being a werewolf is genetic. You inherit it from your parents, and you’ll give that gene to your children. Thus, the importance of maintaining pure blood.

“For now, I guess that’s all,” you tell him once you’ve asked all the questions.

“Since the next full moon is in two days, I’d like to be with you in case you transform,” he says.

Well, you don’t have much of a choice. There’s this unknown about you, and you wouldn’t like to be alone during your first full moon, especially if it’s painful and bestial.

“Thanks,” you mumble while looking down.

Jungkook offers you a little smile.

“I’m by your side now, yn,” he places his fingers under your chin to slowly lift your head. “I won’t let you navigate this alone.”

His eyes shine with sincerity. You’re thankful that, in the middle of this chaos, you found Jungkook. This man brings so much comfort and seems to have one of the prettiest hearts you have encountered.

“And I’ll support you no matter what you decide with the baby,” he adds.

You remain in silence for a moment, your eyes scanning his soft face. You’ve never seen him this close. You’ve never noticed that little mole under his lips, or the little scar on his cheek, or how perfectly round his nose is. He looks even prettier this closely.

The decision about your child has already been made, but you haven’t said it out loud yet. Jungkook will be the first one to know, and it makes sense since he’s the father.

“I’m going to keep the baby,” you reveal.

#bts #bts fanfic #bts imagine #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook fanfic #bts angst #jungkook angst #bts fluff #jungkook fluff #bts smut #jungkook smut #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #bloodlines entwined #bloodlines entwined: chapter 3 #spideyjimin

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illbegottenfaith · 10 days ago

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stutter (a puzzle pieces by saint motel inspired fic)

something about you and your features reawakens theo's stutter (theo nott x reader)

a/n - LOVE how I usually naturally write in British English (for the most part) but the title of this fic is apparently the American English variant?? sorry but stammar just doesn't have the same sound as stutter and it rlly messes with the flow of my sentences lmao

tropes/warnings - fluff, theo has a stutter, tw alcohol, slightlyy mean reader? very mild tho lmao

word count - 3.2k

taglist - @allie-sturns @hzdhrtss @friedfreyfries @bushnellswife @rose-of-the-grave @thaliashifts @pariahsparadise @babene-e @fratbrochrisgf

Theo’s stutter had never been bad exactly - just bad enough to be noticed. Bad enough to make him hesitate before speaking, bad enough to make his father sigh whenever he tripped over a word at the dinner table.

"Think before you speak," his father would say, voice clipped, disapproving. "There's no point in opening your mouth if you don't know what you're going to say."

As if Theo didn’t already try.

So he adapted. He learned to pick his words carefully, to stay quiet unless absolutely necessary, to keep his voice even and deliberate. The less he spoke, the less he had to risk tripping over his own tongue. He stopped rushing and started living his life at a careful, highly controlled pace.

Over time, with extensive help from the best speech therapists his father could find, he grew out of his stutter. By the time he was old enough to be surrounded by classmates who would’ve torn him apart for it, it was already buried beneath layers of indifference. He built himself a reputation on cool control - on quiet, dry wit and the ability to cut someone down with a single unimpressed look. He spoke when he wanted to, not when people expected him to, and that was enough to keep it from ever being a problem.

Until you.

Because for some infuriating reason, with you, it found a way to slip through the cracks.

You and Theo were like two puzzle pieces that never quite fit right.

You didn’t hate each other - not really - but it seemed like a stretch to call yourselves friends. Try as you might, your personalities seemed fundamentally disconnected. He had little patience for your sense of humour, or lack thereof in his opinion. On the bad days, you had a snarky quip ready for even his most innocent comments. It was the most maddening thing for your friends - just as seemed that the two of you had finally learned to get along, Theo would take the mickey out of you, or you would turn your nose up at his boorish antics, and the cycle would repeat.

Unfortunately (or fortunately), all of that changed two weeks ago. It had happened on a brisk Wednesday night. His dorm was fresh out of bottled water and it was too late and too cold to sneak down to the Kitchens to get some. Mattheo was keeping everyone up fretting about what-if-someone-gets-extra-thirsty-in-the-middle-of-the-night-then-what and no one could get him to shut up. Naturally, Theo had been rather unceremoniously evicted from his cosy, dry bed to fetch water from the girls’ dormitory, after a unanimous (and unfair) vote.

So there he had stood outside the girls’ dormitory, shivering, waiting for one of your friends to bring out some water. He had glared at the distorted view of the moon through the common room walls, fuming about how it already was the middle of the night and none of his roommates seemed the least bit thirsty, not that Mattheo would listen to reason.

Finally, the door had swung open, and out of the shadows peered your wan, tired face.

Maybe it was something in the way your lips twisted in displeasure as your droopy eyes struggled to stay open. For some odd, inexplicable reason, he felt a pang of regret over having woken you.

If you were slightly more awake, you might have noticed the glazed look in his eyes. But as it were, all you had done was shove a small jug into his lax hands, manually curling his fingers around the handle when his grip refused to tighten. Of course, you and your roommates were too environmentally conscious to be entertaining single-use plastic.

“Hold still,” you had muttered as you tipped your room’s jug into the smaller one, filling it up. In the pale moonlight, it had been as though he was seeing you in a completely different light for the first time, both figuratively and otherwise. You hair looked unbearably soft from the way it cascaded down your shoulders. Almost as soft as your pillowy lips, which were now parting to release a sigh. And did your skin always smell this sweet, he wondered, as you stepped closer?

“You want a cookie?” you had asked waspishly when he had kept staring at you once his jug was full. That had snapped him out of his trance. After bidding you a hasty, clipped goodnight, he had crept back down to the boy’s dormitories, head reeling, heart thudding. Before finally nodding off in the wee hours of the morning, he had put the whole thing down to sleep deprivation.

But when you looked just as adorable in your 9 am Charms lesson the next day, bags under your eyes as you poorly stifled your yawns, he knew he was well and truly fucked.

That had been two weeks ago. Now, he’d be hard pressed to muster up any real sort of annoyance over the reactions you elicited from him, knowingly or otherwise.

You were all in the Great Hall, having breakfast. Your friends were talking about some book they had read recently. Mattheo and Draco were having an arm wrestling match right over their eggs. Enzo was yammering in Theo’s ear, not that he was listening. Theo had long since learned to tune out Enzo’s chatter until lunch, when he was sufficiently awake to actually process it.

No, what he was doing was watching you - watching the way you chewed on your bottom lip instead of your breakfast, a faint crease between your eyebrows as your eyes flitted across the parchment. He cast his eyes around the table listlessly, desperately wishing for a change in topic, preferably one that had to do with you.

His prayers were soon answered. Ivy turned away from her conversation to look at you.

“How’s the essay coming along, Y/N?”

You finally peeled your eyes away from the essay you were proofreading, sliding your gaze disinterestedly to Theo and the rest of your friends. He watched your sleepy, downturned eyes momentarily rest on his, a familiar electric jolt twinging in his chest. There was no denying it - what had previously seemed uninteresting or unimaginative was now hopelessly irresistible to him.

You scowled, flipping back to the first page. “Terrible. Awful. I don’t know what possessed McGonagall to let me take N.E.W.T level Transfiguration.”

Because you’re brilliant at it, Theo wanted to say, just like how you’re brilliant at everything else.

“I’m sure it’s not that bad,” Ivy said reasonably as you haphazardly started gathering your things.

“It is, it really is. Even worse, my guinea pig escaped so now everyone has something to practice on except me.”

“I can be your Guinea pig,” Theo murmured. Mattheo gave him a hard shove in the shoulder blade.

“What?” You distractedly pushed a lock of hair out of your face.

He grimaced, a throbbing pain now settling in his upper back. “I said,” he forced out, “serves you right. Losing your guinea pig.”

You rolled your eyes. “Charming as ever, Nott.”

You hurriedly placed a kiss on Ivy’s cheek, glowering at Theo as you walked off. Just as he opened his mouth to ask (yell) where his kiss was, Mattheo shoved a bun into his mouth.

"Real subtle, mate," he said sarcastically.

Theo shot him a glare, but the delicate flush dusting his face betrayed him. "Shut up."

Mattheo only smirked, taking a bite of his own toast. "Whatever you say."

Some nights, trouble had a face. Tonight, it was yours.

He saw you before you saw him - tucked inside an alcove at the far end of the corridor, bathed in the flickering glow of a lone torch. It was the late kind of hour when nothing good was bound to happen. A half-empty bottle of firewhiskey dangled loosely from your fingers, the deep amber liquid catching the dim light as you swirled it absentmindedly.

It wasn’t the first time he’d seen you like this - pushing limits just for the sake of it. It wasn't immediately apparent, but anyone who paid close enough attention would see you had a habit of toeing the line between reckless and untouchable.

He should have walked away. Should’ve let you self-destruct in peace.

But Theo was never that smart when it came to you.

"You’re not exactly being subtle," he said, stepping out of the shadows.

You didn’t jump, didn’t startle. Instead, you turned to face him with a slow, deliberate ease, like you’d been expecting him all along.

"Wasn’t trying to be."

He raised his eyebrows.

"Could’ve fooled me."

You smirked, raising the bottle in a lazy toast before taking another sip.

"What, you gonna tell on me?"

Theo scoffed. "If I wanted to get you in trouble, you'd know."

"Mm. So you’re just here to nag, then?"

"Not nagging," Theo said. "Just pointing out that if you’re going to break the rules, you should at least be smart about it."

You hummed, swaying the bottle between your fingers, humming poorly. You were definitely well past tipsy. "Smart’s overrated."

"Yeah? So’s liver failure."

That made you laugh, short and sharp, like you hadn’t expected him to be funny.

He shouldn’t have cared about that. Shouldn’t have cared that his words - his stupid, judgemental, throwaway words - had gotten a laugh out of you.

But he did. And that was the problem.

You studied him for a moment before holding out the bottle. "Want some?"

He looked at it disdainfully. "Generous."

"Hardly," you said. "Figured it might loosen you up a bit. You’re wound tight, Nott."

Theo exhaled, crossing his arms. He knew all about being tightly wound when it came to you. "Right. Because getting pissed in a dark corridor is the key to inner peace."

"You should try it sometime."

"Hard pass."

You shrugged. "Suit yourself."

Then, just to be a menace, you took another slow swill, letting your lips linger at the rim of the bottle before licking a stray drop off the corner of your mouth.

Theo didn’t react. Wouldn’t react. You weren’t doing anything special. Just drinking. Just looking at him with that same lazy amusement, like you had him all figured out.

And maybe you did. Maybe that was what rattled him.

"You’re - " He started, but his tongue tripped over the word, catching slightly before he forced it out. "You’re d-drunk."

Your drooping eyes widened fractionally. Your lips parted in your efforts to concentrate as a slight frown creased your forehead, not all that different from the one at breakfast a few days ago,

Theo felt the heat crawl up his neck before he could stop it. His mind scrambled for damage control, but the way you were watching him - head tilted, intrigued, like you were piecing something together - made it worse.

"You good?" you asked, something teasing yet concerned in your tone.

Theo cleared his throat awkwardly, trying to regain control of his rogue tongue. "Obviously," he muttered, shifting his weight.

You let the silence stretch a beat too long before raising an eyebrow.

"You sure? ‘Cause for a second there, you almost sounded - "

"Drop it," he cut in, swiping the bottle from your hands before you could protest. He took a slow sip, letting the firewhiskey burn its way down, using it as an excuse to steady himself.

You watched him succumb to the buzz of the drink. "You’re changing the subject," you noted, smirking.

"Yeah?" He felt less wired, less sober. "You’re still an idiot for doing this in the open."

You watched him lean against the wall opposite yours, eyes gleaming in the dim alcove. You let him have that one. But just as he thought you were letting it go, your gaze flicked up, sharp and knowing.

"Don’t act like you’re any better," you mused.

Theo frowned. "What?"

You nodded toward his pocket, where a cigarette pack was sticking out slightly. "Don’t you go through, like, three packs a day?"

He pressed his lips into a thin line. You had him there. "That’s not the same."

You widened your eyes mockingly. "No, you’re right. I might get liver failure in thirty years. You’re aiming for lung failure by, what - next week?"

Theo clicked his tongue, tucking the pack deeper into his pocket. "Cute."

"Not as cute as you stuttering over your words a minute ago."

Theo groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "I hate you."

"Sure you do," you murmured, grinning as you took back the firewhiskey.

The Slytherin common room was empty when you both stepped inside, drenched from head to toe. The fire crackled in the hearth, but the warmth did nothing to dry the water you trailed in as you stalked toward it.

Theo watched you try to wring out your sleeves with an air of great suffering, muttering something about "bloody weather conspiracies" under your breath as you peeled off some of your outer layers.

"This is all your fault," you grumbled.

Theo exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his wet hair. "Yeah? How’s that?"

"You control everything else," you shot back, flicking a few stray drops of water at him. "Figured you had a deal with the bloody sky, too."

He smirked. "Don't give me ideas."

You rolled your eyes, crouching slightly to warm your frozen hands by the fire. Your clothes clung to your frame, and Theo forced himself to look away before his thoughts could wander into dangerous territory. Instead, he shrugged off his soaked sweater and tossed it over the back of the nearest couch.

"Relax. You’ll live," he said idly.

"You better hope so," you threatened. "If I don’t, I’m haunting you forever."

Theo snorted, undoing the cuffs of his shirt.

"I don't think you have the attention span for that."

You shot him a look. "I'd find a way," you said darkly.

"Sure," he agreed sarcastically.

You huffed, standing up straight again.

"And here I was, thinking you actually liked me."

The words were meant to be teasing, flippant, meaningless. But something about them made his pulse stutter.

Maybe it was the way you said it, light and careless, like the idea was so ridiculous it wasn’t even worth entertaining. Maybe it was the way the firelight flickered against your golden skin. Maybe it was the way a stray droplet trickled down your throat, inch by agonising inch, before disappearing beneath the collar of your shirt.

Maybe it was the fact that he did actually like you.

Theo didn’t know what made him say it - either the warmth from the fire or the cold still clinging to his skin or the fact that he could feel the exhaustion of restraint pressing against his ribs. But before he could stop himself, he was opening his mouth, lips forming words he had barely formulated.

"You look - " he started, then faltered.

Shit.

His tongue tripped, his brain suddenly too slow to catch up. He could feel the syllable stuck in his throat, unable to escape, the word stuttering into nothing.

"Y-you l - l -"

Silence.

"Oh, my god," you murmured, slow and smug, realisation dawning on your face.

Theo exhaled sharply, his stomach twisting as he tried to force his expression into something impassive, something cool, something...unaffected. In short, he tried attempting what was an impossible feat when your very features were enough to leave him dizzy.

A wicked smile unfurled across your face. He wasn’t getting out of this alive, was he?

"Do you not know how to talk?" you demanded, eyes glittering with suppressed mirth. "Is this your first day on planet Earth?"

Theo clenched his jaw, crossing his arms in a futile attempt to feign indifference. "Shut up."

You refused to let up. "No, really. What was that? You looked - what? What do I look like, Theo? Enlighten me."

He forced himself to roll his eyes as his fingers curled into his sleeves. "You’re insufferable."

"J-j-j-j - " You stuttered mockingly, eyes alight with mischief. "What are you, an idiot? Does your tongue need rewiring?"

Theo should’ve turned away, should’ve thrown himself onto the couch and forced himself to think about literally anything else. But he couldn’t help it.

He watched you - watched the way you grinned to yourself, watched the way your fingers twisted in the fabric of your damp clothes, watched the way you were so completely and utterly oblivious to the way you made his mind unravel.

It wasn’t just attraction. It wasn’t just the heat in his chest or the feeling in his bones or the fact that his name sounded so damn good dripping off your honeyed lips while you teased him.

It was everything.

It was the way you filled every empty space like you belonged there, like you’d always belonged there. It was the way your laughter lived in his head rent-free, the way you made even the most infuriating drivel you spouted feel like something he couldn't bear to go without. It was the fact that no matter how much you poked and prodded, no matter how ruthlessly or relentlessly you mocked him - he still wanted you. Desperately.

He should be embarrassed. The Theo of a few years ago would have been - would’ve burned with the humiliation, would’ve clenched his fists at the reminder of all the times he’d stood in front of his father, struggling to string together a coherent sentence under the weight of that unimpressed gaze.

But you were different. He could hear it in your voice, buried beneath the teasing - the unmistakable warmth, the absolute delight you took in making fun of him. Not because you wanted to humiliate him, but because it amused you. It endeared him to you. Because you liked getting under his skin.

And, Merlin help him, he liked that you liked it.

"Go on," you continued mockingly, roughly drying your hair with a towel, still oblivious to Theo watching you like you hung the stars and moon. "Careful with the big words, now."

Theo just stood there, staring at you, utterly gone. He wasn’t even trying to school his expression anymore.

When you finally looked up from drying yourself, your teasing faltered ever so slightly at the look in his eyes.

You blinked. “What?”

Theo shook his head, leaning against the wall thoughtfully.

“Nothing.”

You stilled. Because for the first time, you actually noticed. Theo wasn’t scowling. He wasn’t enduring your teasing with quiet exasperation.

He was watching you with something softer - something warmer, something dangerously close to adoration. It lingered in the lines of his face, in the almost-smile playing at his lips, in the flicker of fondness he couldn’t quite suppress fast enough before your eyes met his.

You stared back, speechless. Theo swallowed, tearing his gaze away, turning sharply as if shaking himself out of it.

"You should dry off before you actually get sick," he muttered, forcing his voice into something steady.

You stared at him for half a second longer, something unreadable in your expression.

"Right," you finally said, clearing your throat.

Neither of you acknowledged the moment for what it was. But the resurgence of Theo's stutter remained a secret kept only between the two of you.

#theo nott #theo nott x reader #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #theodore nott fluff

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pearlymel · 7 months ago

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"The Masks We Wear"

Summary: as a journalist, you are itching to find the identity of this mysterious hero. But could it be that the hero is closer to you than you think?

Wc: 7.3k eat up

Warnings: Wriothesley x afab!reader, gn! reader, modern au, hero and villian au (one of each), reader is a journalist/cameraman, fluff, making out, crack (i laughed a lot writing this), angst (oops), one small sex scene, slightly under the influence, cursing, it's pretty unrealistic, petnames used: sunshine, love, and sweetheart.

Notes: i poured my heart and soul into this, i think it's my best piece so far ^^ give it a chance, maybe you'll love it. (Pleasepleasepleaseplease) Rbs are greatly appreciated!

Credits: banner art by the great @/danijaci

Click!

The city is absolutely beautiful today. No, no. It’s not because of the lights that makes the place brighter and a bit more magical, how it seems livelier with a group of teenagers laughing together while buying street foods together, or the old couple that seem still very much in love, the gentleman kneeling down and tying her shoes just to make sure she wouldn’t trip this time.

Humans can be cute, you think.

But of course, among those innocent ‘humans’ are those who desire destruction.

This time, you think you might have caught something in the shadows, and you stare intently at your camera, zooming it in to see the faintest color blending in with the darkness. Hair? A part of clothes? You don’t know, but you got it.

you have this obsession of finding out who the hero of this city was, or even the villian. Although, you would be technically be walking into death if you try finding out who the villian is.

Where did this hero come from? No one knows. Sure the crime rate has lowered, but it felt like the world became even more messed up.

It all started a couple of years ago when you were in your college days, one day almost dying from a falling building, and you thought you saw the scythe waiting to take your soul at that very moment but, no.

The mysterious hero of the city that you never thought you would never encounter carried the building with his super strength power, apparently.

He who has no name, took your hand and lead you into a safer area with the police.

cliché story, right. But that’s what got you into journalism and media now.

And let’s say… you’re too far into the deep black hole to back down now.

The almost blinding light made you come back to your senses, the sounds of engine roaring in the air as the bike approached you, and your shoulders were already slumped.

“How did you find me?” You raise your voice due to the loud engine running, covering parts of your vision from the light.

“Lucky guess.” Wriothesley replied gruffly, pulling his helmet off and shaking his head slightly to fix up his messy strands.

“Care to explain what on earth are you doing here in this shady alleyway? At nine thirty where the moon is out and wolves could be coming for you?” He starts scolding you, quirking an eyebrow when you give him the bored expression, and he immediately mimics it back.

“Taking pictures.”

“Of the rats?”

“Wriothesley.” You shoot him a look and he raises his hands in the air. “I understand your… obsession. But it could hurt you in the process, mentally and physically.”

You know he’s saying all this because he cares so much about you. Loves you too much that it would break his soul piece by piece if one day what you’re doing will hurt you.

“Hop in, sweetheart.” He hands you the extra helmet, and you take it with a sigh. Securing it around your head before taking your place behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist as he revved the engine.

The whole ride back was silent, yet traffic, which entirely ruined the whole mood. With the constant car horns ringing in your ear.

You tap at his thigh to grab his attention, “Why’s it traffic?” You grumble, rising yourself from the seat to look at the row of cars trying to get through.

“Not any holidays or events i can think of,” he responds back to you.

Red mixed with orange fills your vision, suddenly the car at the very front explodes. The car parts flying in the air and landing at the other vehicles which makes you frozen in shock.

Wriothesley’s clenches his hands tightly as he turns the bike around, speeding his way far away from the scene. “Hold onto me tight, and don’t look back, you hear?” He yells enough to grab your attention, and your arms tightens around him, but you have your head turned around to see the people yelling and dashing out of the vehicles. You want to capture the moment with your phone so you could submit it in for the news, but you know more than to ignore Wriothesley right now.

It’s not rare to see destruction happen in your city, it’s just… terrifying every time anybody witnesses it.

Maybe it wasn’t an accident, maybe it was planned.

“You’re not allowed to go out after seven.” Wriothesley makes it clear to you with his firm tone as you both step inside your shared apartment, locking the apartment with a click. He then tosses his keys into a bowl on a small table, before turning to look at you.

“Are you seriously setting a curfew for me? Please. what happened was not new—”

Your face is now being cradled by his rough hands, but the way he swipes a thumb under your eyebags really makes you melt. And you forget what you were going to say when his lips curl the slightest.

“I don't want anything happening to you. Ever.” He takes you in his arms, holding you like you were the most precious thing he ever held. “I didn't mean to pressure you like that. I'd hate it if you were in the position of those injured people.”

You pat his back to reassure him that hopefully nothing like that will happen. “And, if, hypothetically, something like that happened; What would y—”

“I'll kill everyone.” he doesn't even let you continue before he answers, though the chuckle against your hair followed after makes your tense shoulders relax.

“maybe not to that extent,” he lifts your head up to lean in and press a tender kiss on your forehead.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“what is it?”

“… something or someone.”

Your boss gives you a nonchalant sharp look when you eagerly showed him the bits you managed to capture last night before you were interrupted by your great boyfriend.

His eyes squints at the more of a blurred photo that sits on the display of your camera, taking the glasses that hanged from his collar.

The sigh afterwards makes you feel discouraged when he hands you back your camera.

“i see it.” He starts and you perk up immediately.

“it looks like a blurred image of a fucking bird taking a shit on the electrical cords.” You press your lips into a thin line at his description. Too detailed of a description,

what a bastard.

It.. certainly didn't look like that.

You clear your throat, pinching the bridge of your nose to compose yourself.

“You're lucky i like your determination or you would've been fired,” he utters out in a lax tone, resting his glasses on his big bald head that you want to spill with ketchup.

“Keep looking, i need the hero's face, details, anything. Just think of the money you and i could both earn.” He seems too enthusiastic about it, showing you determination with his fists pressing together and his wide ear to ear smile.

You leave work early that day, starting your daily walk of looking around for at least two hours or—one hour?

No, Wriothesley would be too worried if you came back after… nine. Your words not his.

You need to rearrange a schedule in your head.

Step one: somehow convince your boss that you need to leave early everyday.

Step two: search every nook and cranny of the city, ask every shady person if they get to talk to the hero in person or got a glimpse of his name.

Step three: go to the dark web— is that car flying infront of you right now?!

Shit. Just why does everything have to go down wherever path you go?

The people around you panics, and you equally panic with them because you're no fucking hero to tell them to get away from that flying car.

You take your camera out hurriedly from its case that slung around your shoulder, pressing record while frantically looking around. The ground shakes, it shakes so much that it feels like an earthquake almost.

“it's him! The villian!” Someone shouts from the distance, and just like that the screams that follows are in sync.

You know why the ground shook, the street has become a battlefield for the hero and villain fighting together with all their strengths, the air is filled with tension as they both clash in an epic confrontation. The ground trembles beneath your feet again as they traded blows, sending shockwaves through the battlefield. The once tranquil street has now been transformed into a chaotic arena of power and destruction. As the battle rages on. The hero and villain continue their fight, each strike more powerful than the last, their movements a blur of speed and precision.

You try capturing anything with your camera, but your hand shakes that it was impossible. When the villian lands a powerful punch on the hero’s shoulder, sending him way back, it makes you think it's time to leave.

You run with the rest without stubbornness this time. You should've listened to Wriothesley, why did you always have to be so curious about everything?

This curiousity will kill you next after the cat.

“Taxi!” You shout, waving your hand at the yellow vehicle, but every taxi seems to ignore the people's pleas, determined to save themselves instead.

Guess it's time to burn calories and run back home.

You were a panting mess once you reached back to your comfort space, eyes zeroing at the running television in the living room. Watching the newscaster talk about today's battle and how it affected the shops and buildings.

It seems like the battle lasted twenty minutes before the villian gave up and fled away.

Your head snaps to the bathroom once you hear the sink water drip, you didn't even think if he would be here this early.

“Wriothesley,” you say breathlessly when you swing the door open, arms squeezing his side as you take a deep breath in.

“woah, easy there. What happened?” He takes you in, hand rubbing at your arm.

“i was…” nevermind. Maybe you shouldn't tell him what you have witnessed, he'll know once he checks the news.

You only realise that he was chest bared at the moment, and you furrow your eyebrows once you see a bruise on his shoulder.

“What happened?” It was your turn to ask, talking a gentle finger and running it over the bruise, earning a hiss from him.

“was changing the car oil at the repair shop.” He mumbles, gaze turning to the mirror, “then accidentally hit my shoulder once i got up.” he turns his arm, swinging it slowly.

“but you don't work at a car repair shop?”

“it's a side hustle, sunshine.”

“why didn't you tell me?” You press on, and he hangs his head low, both of his hands gripping the sink bowl.

Okay, maybe you have annoyed him a little too much now. Upon sensing your incoming apology, Wriothesley smiles at you.

“don't worry your pretty little head too much. The bruise will fade.”

“i can massage you later?” You offer, and he lets out a breathy chuckle. “You're the best.” He gives you a chaste kiss on your lips on his way out, which makes you feel a little fuzzy.

The evening gave way to the night sky, and you found yourself lying on the bed, replaying the video captured on your camera. The footage was far from perfect, shaky and lacking in clarity, but it still managed to capture fragments of the intense confrontation between the hero and the villain. You couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement as you watched the brief glimpses of the clash that had taken place earlier.

How the villian managed to blow a punch on the hero’s shoulder, sending him way back. Must've hurted.

It's almost like the same spot Wriothesley got his bruise on.

…

Wait, the same spot? You sit up on the mattress, replaying the video on repeat of their fight.

The hero was about the same height as him, the same physique, same cake—

You shake your head, focus. Wriothesley can't be the hero, no that's impossible. He was a busy man, doing… side jobs and whatnot.

Sure he was kind, always helping everyone, even walking the neighbors dog because they got sick one day.

But then again… you never saw Wriothesley and the hero at the same time,

Or was it merely a coincidence, a random alignment of physical features?

“Sunshine?” You gasp when you snap your head up to find Wriothesley leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed.

“y-yes?” You set the camera aside on top of the drawer. He moves closer, seating himself on the edge of the bed, his eyes fixated on you then glancing at he camera.

“dinner's ready.”

You nod, silence fills the room after. You know he's waiting for you tell him more, on why you were so shocked.

“was looking at the hero's pictures.”

“not mine? I'm wounded.”

You roll your eyes, a slow smile creeping up your face, and he loves it. He takes it as an invitation to lean closer, suddenly pinning you down on the bed to capture your lips with his.

It's slow, and gentle. It makes you hum softly, taking his face in your hands to kiss him back, moving your lips together until you were gasping for air.

You forget you were even suspicious of him a second ago.

Your fingers lightly trace his jawline and you feel the pricks of his growing facial hair. A small smile plays on your lips as you inform him in a soft tone, "You need to shave." Wriothesley chuckles softly, the sound warm and low. He reaches up to your hand, gently taking hold of it and bringing it to his lips, pressing a kiss on your palm. "Is that why you stopped kissing me?" He says, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "No! I find you more.. attractive. Plus it.. yeah, it feels like little needles on my face.” you admit quietly.

Wriothesley presses his face into your neck, his lips tracing soft kisses along your skin. His hands begin roving your body, each touch sending a gentle shiver across your flesh. He whispers quietly next to your ear, his voice low and smooth as he responds, "I'll shave after dinner." The sensations of his lips against your neck and his hands exploring your body mix together, creating a heady combination that heightens your senses and ignites a slow fire within you.

“I'll.. help.” You whisper, bringing both of your arms to wrap them around his back. “What a sweetheart.” he uttered out, voice muffled from trying to mold into your skin.

Your mind stops working for a second when he presses his knee gently between your legs to pull them apart, “Wriothesley, what about dinner?” You frantically ask him, tugging his hair up so both of your gazes could meet. And the almost drunken expression he has on makes you let out a shaky breath.

“later,” he drawls, his fingers tracing lazily along your sides.

Hero? Pftt, what hero? This is just your wriothesley, it's quite impossible for him to be the hero.

You snap out of your daydream when your colleague hands you a cup of coffee, he raises an eyebrow at you and you smile back awkwardly.

A sip of the coffee to get a bit of energy, but only just a bit, since too much caffeine makes you nervous.

“You filmed the crazy battle yesterday?” Your colleague sneaks from behind you, watching the video replay again on your camera.

“they do movies about them now, insane huh?”

“well atleast the hero knows he's popular.” You reply bluntly, taking anothsr sip from your hot beverage.

“flash news, someone heard that his name starts with the letter ‘W’ or som—”

You spit out your coffee all over your white attire. You both exchange surprised looks, but you quickly wipe your mouth using the back of your hand.

“where exactly did you hear that?” You get straight to the point, gesturing them to sit next to you.

“from my father's friend’s cousin sister.”

His reply makes your eyes twitch, from who and who?

“Okay…” you whisper, turning around and thinking of the utter nonsense they spouted.

“you don't believe me.” he sighed, “I've been telling this to everyone in the building but no one is believing me! Just tryna’ do my job here.”

Let's say maybe you believe him. But the dots are connecting too fast that you want to refuse from believing it.

Was your target closer to you than you had expected?

“I'm clocking out, can you cover for me today?” You inform your colleague, and he crosses his arms while eyeing you up and down.

Your roll your eyes, “I'll be the cameraman for next week. So you could get three days off.” You force a smile and they smile back enthusiastically.

Wriothesley is definitely home. Earlier than the usual time he'd be back.

Oh, he's asleep on the couch. Leaning back tiredly with an almost stern expression on, but his body seems relaxed.

Now is the time to do anything. Investigate? Go through his things without his permission? That sounded all awful… surely he's not hiding any—

“go search his things.” You furrow your eyebrows when the devil on your left shoulder speaks, it makes you rub your face in annoyance.

Then a sudden white little angel poofs on your right shoulder with a disappointed face, “no, don't do it. He's a little scary when he gets mad. But he'd never betray you!” you feel reassured at it's words and you nod in agreement.

“don't listen to it. He could hurt you if you keep it a secret.” The red devil whispers again and it makes you shiver a bit.

“he would never hurt you.” The angel frowns.

“yes he would, he's a man.”

“a good man.”

“yeah? You're no better than me, you just want that—”

“okay shut up both of you. Shoo.” You brush both of your shoulders off before taking a deep breath to brace yourself.

You'll just search his.. clothes.

You feel guilty once you pocket his jackets and pants in his side of the wardrobe, checking every hidden pocket thoroughly while glancing at the door once in a while to make sure he doesn't wake up.

As your fingers brush against his jacket, you notice an unusual sensation – a cool, metal feeling hidden underneath the fabric. Your eyes widen in surprise as you recognize it to be the form of a gun's handle. A mixture of curiosity and concern floods through you, freezing you in place.

It really is a gun. You study it carefully, turning it around and feeling it's heaviness in your palm.

But you feel your heart run out of your ribcage when two pairs of arms wrap tightly around you, his chin resting on your shoulder.

Shit.

“hi,” he whispers next to your ear, but you're too nervous to even look back at him.

“nice thing you got there.” He muses, and you feel like you're losing oxygen once he tightens his grip around you even more.

“… i just found it.” You mutter, mostly to yourself. Your head hanging too low to avoid his eyes.

“Could've just asked me, no?” He clicks his tongue, almost in disappointment.

“i have it on me because—”

“because you use it for the good, right? Because you're the hero?” Your voice is shaky when you ask, the gun in your hand shaking with you, and you're afraid to drop it.

“hero?” Wriothesley repeats, shaking you gently awake and you gasp harshly, taking in big breaths, your boyfriend immediately trying to soothe you.

it was a dream.

“you were mumbling something about a hero in your sleep. Are you okay?” He asks in concern, brushing a strand off your face. You were sweating too much for your liking.

“when did i get here?” You look around, taking your palms to rub the sleepiness off. “Right when you got off work. You slept on the bed without changing your clothes.”

Oh… so you never checked his clothes. Deciding to just sleep instead.

Your head turns back to the wardrobe, staring at it intently. Could the jacket be in the same arrangement as you found it in your dream? Or will the gun also be there?

“you're going to poke a hole through it if you keep staring.” He stifles a laugh, and you couldn't help but try to smile as well. “Drink up. Slow sips.” He offers you a glass of water, and you hold the glass firmly in your hand.

“so… what was your dream about? Even this hero appears in your dreams? Can't say I'm not jealous.”

“You'll have grey hairs too early from overthinking.” You tease, sitting upright in bed, “oh no, you already do, old man.” you frown, tracing the grey strands along with his black hair. He watches in amusement.

Wriothesley lets out a deep sigh, “give your old man a break. They're a badge of wisdom and experience,” he rests his head on your lap, nuzzling close as you massage his scalp.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Breaking news: the ‘’lola” flower shop sets on fire just three hours ago. Our dear hero saves the day yet again, protecting the old lady just in time before her shop explodes. The cause of the fire is still unknown…”

Destruction out of nowhere again. Accidents out of nowhere again.

The voice of the newscaster on the television fades away in this little diner you're in. You drive your attention away from it, instead focusing now on the Polaroid pictures laid out infront of you.

The hero always wore a mask to cover his identity, obviously. But even after watching the countless of interviews he had, the deep tone slightly matches Wriothesley’s voice, or maybe he's changing his tone on purpose. You can see it by zooming in on the video, how he's catching his breath everytime he speaks when he's just sitting down.

Asthma? Nah.

You tap your fingers impatiently on the table, this is not helping at all, and the slightest itch in your brain worsens as the time goes by.

You think about giving up on this, but the possibility of finding the answer on how or why did all of this happen is probably closer to you than you think.

“Bad guys never end with their schemes. Bunch of attention seekers.” The hero speaks on the television, and you hum curiously as the hero salutes the camera playfully before disappearing from the crowd.

Is it possible that there are multiple heros? Working all together in some basement and taking turns to go out and do a better job than the police?

Possibly, and you write down your new theories down on your little notepad.

You check your phone next, Wriothesley still hasn't answered you back from your most recent text to him.

It's nothing to worry about, but the thought that he's busy saving the city is gnawing at you.

Batman?

You shake your head again, gathering your things to stand up from your seat. You should be blunt asking him about it tonight.

It's cold. Colder than usual. Was the air conditioning on? No. But the windows are sure wide open. You look around the living room before closing the windows and curtains from the outside world, as you draw the curtains, the outside world becomes obscured, leaving the room in a soft semi-darkness.

“Wriothesley, honey?” You call out softly, peeking through the bathroom, not there. The bedroom? Nope.

That leaves the kitchen, you slowly peek your head in he kitchen, and sure enough, he was there.

Wriothesley was rubbing his face in exhaustion while mumbling words under his breath that you can't quite hear. Having one singular glass of some drink in his hand.

“hero this.. hero that..” you finally listen to his mumbles, which makes you furrow your eyebrows together.

"Wrio...?" You call out softly, flipping the switch to turn on the light. His sharp eyes immediately dart up to look at you, and you can't help but shiver under his intense stare. You let out a small gasp of surprise as he suddenly stands up, the glass in his hand slipping from his grip and shattering on the ground along with its contents.

Taken aback by his sudden movement, you instinctively take a step back as he approaches you. But before you can even register what's happening, he crashes his lips against yours in a hasty, rushed kiss. Caught off guard, you cling tightly to him, desperately seeking support to prevent yourself from toppling over.

“You love me,” Wriothesley's voice breaks through the heated kiss, his words coming out in a low, guttural groan. He grips the back of your thighs, hoisting you up against the wall and wrapping your legs around his waist. “right?” His voice holds a hint of vulnerability and desperation, as if seeking reassurance and affirmation of your feelings for him.

And when you don't answer him right away, he takes your lower lip between his teeth, nipping at it gently, “answer me.” He almost growls.

“love, what are you taking about? Are you drunk?” You ask breathlessly in concern, your lips feeling swollen.

His jaw clenches, “Why can't you say it?” he inhales your perfume, your scent filling him that it makes him groan, his mouth lavishing your neck and collarbone, leaving kisses and littering marks then soothing the area with his tongue that it makes your pant softly, pressing your face into his hair while your fingers weaving through his black-greyish strands.

“i love you,” you utter quietly, and it suddenly makes him start grinding his hardened length against you. “I'm sorry in advance, sweetheart.”

One minute you're confused about his words, and then the next he's pounding so hard into you like there was no tomorrow.

Strings of “don't leave me,” and “i love you’s,” are echoed in the air. Wriothesley's mouth moves against yours with a sense of urgency and haste, his tongue gliding and tangling with yours in a fervent dance. The bed creaks so loud underneath you that you think it might break anytime, the embarrassment of the headboard banging against the wall immediately gone once he hits your sweet spot rapidly.

Poor neighbors

"Wrio... Wriothesley?” you slowly flutter your eyes open, still in the hazy realm between sleep and wakefulness. The sunlight streams through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room, and you blink a few times as you take in your surroundings. A quiet sense of contentment washes over you as you remember the events of the night before, the memories of Wriothesley's body against yours and his lips on yours still fresh in your mind.

You prop yourself up using your elbows, only to look down at the sight of your sleeping lover with his head pressed up on your chest. You collapse back on the bed with a tired sigh.

You still couldn't understand the reasoning behind his.. desperate actions last night. He seemed so pent up and stressed, you'll forgive him this time.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••• It's the day where you're covering for your colleague, being the cameraman for tonight's news. Yes, tonight.

Wriothesley would kill you if he knew you were working so late at night, but only because he cares about your safety. Good thing he's out of the city for a day.

Or he claims to be out of the city for some important work.

You press the button on your video camera, adjusting the lens to focus on the newscaster standing in front of the camera, holding the microphone with a serious expression. The news van is parked in front of a desolate, run-down neighborhood known for its high crime rate and dangerous reputation. The newscaster speaks into the camera, her eyes boring into the lens as she reports on the neighborhood.

“We are now standing in the heart of one of the most dangerous areas in the city. This neighborhood is notorious for its high crime rate and volatile atmosphere.”

Your senses are heightened at this rate and you really try to focus but the moment you hear the faint crunch of leaves, you lose composure just a bit.

Okay you're a bit scared, but as long as your workmates are he—

a group of armed gang members suddenly appear from the alleyways between the buildings, surrounding the news van and the camera crew. The newscaster, taken off guard, gasps and steps back.

The gang members brandish their weapons, circling the news crew menacingly. One of them shouts at the newscaster, waving his gun in the air. “Hold it right there, pretty lady. This is our turf! You ain’t gonna be broadcasting nothing about us!”

You're about to shit your pants for real this time.

“Drop your cameras and get outta here, or things are gonna get real ugly real fast,” he growls, and one of them points the gun right on your camera.

“I'm talkin’ to you too.”

Yeah, you're not going to fight anyone and act all big. You simply drop the camera on the ground to raise your hands in the air.

As the gang members close in on the news crew, the atmosphere is suddenly shattered by the sound of footsteps pounding against the pavement. Everyone turns to see a tall, muscular figure approaching from the distance.

It's the hero.

You watch in awe as the hero strides towards the group of armed gang members, his movements fluid and precise. With a swift swing of his fist, he lands a powerful punch on the leader's face, sending him stumbling backwards. The other gang members are taken aback by his sudden appearance and the display of force, their eyes widening in surprise and fear. They exchange nervous looks, realizing they're facing a much stronger opponent than they anticipated.

“Hey, let's go!” Your workmate calls for your name. Her hand waving at you so you could all retreat back to the van.

And before you could follow, the van explodes.

The sudden explosion catches you off guard, jolting you out of your stupor. Shouting in surprise, you recoil from the loud blast, ducking instinctively as debris and fragments fly through the air. Your colleague, sitting next to you in the van, lets out a terrified yell as the force of the explosion propels the driver backward. The van shudders and lurches from the impact, the windows shattering and various objects sent flying.

“in the building! Let's go!” All three of you dash to protect yourselves inside this tall company building.

“I will call the police,”

“but the hero is here!” the driver of the van speaks, almost yelling in frustration.

“the hero is also a human. Just a strong one. We can't rely on him—” but before you could continue, you all cover your ears once you hear gunshots come from outside.

Ohmygosh. It’s—it could possibly be Wriothesley who's getting hurt right now. What are even the chances?!

“Fine! Just call the fucking police!” The driver gives up, leaning back against the wall while breathing heavily.

You want to go out there. You want to see. It's your chance to see who the hero is if he got hurt. Just to get the crumbs of news in exchange for your life apparently.

When it grows quiet, you peek outside, “it's clear, I'll take a look—”

“No, you're not.” her hand is firm as she grips your wrist, “just let them go.” He, on the other hand, scowls.

“Be safe!” She shouts at you as you make a run for it, running down the alleyway while looking left and right.

Someone's in the area.

You dart behind the nearby dumpster, heart pounding in your chest as adrenaline courses through your veins. Hiding as best you can, you press yourself against the rough metal, trying to keep your breathing steady and quiet. Peeking out from behind the dumpster, you cautiously scan the surroundings, trying to catch a glimpse of someone nearby. For now, the area seems to be clear, but you can't shake the feeling that someone is in the vicinity, lurking in the shadows.

“Where ya at, lil’ birdie?” You cover your mouth when you hear someone speak, it sends a chill down your spine and you can feel your heart drumming in your ears.

Your sharp eyes turn to your side to find a metal rod, you don't hesitate to grab it before smacking the shit out of the guy.

No that did not happen, but you wish it did.

Instead, the minute you see his feet pass the dumpster, with a swift movement, you grab hold of both of his ankles, using your weight and leverage to pull them out from under him. He lets out a pained shriek as he suddenly loses his balance and topples to the ground, his body hitting the pavement with a thud.

Alright, you can be cool sometimes.

Stepping at his hands to hear him cry again, you run put of the place, making turns and finally spotting the hero sitting down against the building wall while panting, seemingly exhausted.

“…” you take slow steps once you approach him, looking down at him with your eyes already glistening.

This is it, you just have to confirm it.

Your hand pulls at his mask, “Wrio—”

Huh?

This…

Is not

Wriothesley.

“Ah, what the fuck?” He grunts, the blonde grabbing the mask from your hands and you take a step back.

“Elias?!” You yell out in confusion, it's your colleague that you're covering for supposedly today's shoot.

“You're the hero??”

“not a word. Scram, you freak.” he mutters, eyes diverting away from you and staring up at the roof. “The roof,” he whispers to himself, making the effort to stand back at his knees.

Is this bitch serious? He's the last person you expected to be the hero. With his stupidly arrogant and lax attitude.

You give him an almost death stare, studying his features again before making your way out.

You need to check the other people that were with you.

But when you arrive back at the building, they were gone.

Did the police arrive? You don't hear any sirens. Could they have possibly went up on one of the floors to hide?

You find yourself in the elevator next, watching as the doors close with your hands clasped infront of you nervously.

You take deep breaths, trying to calm your racing heart and steady your nerves. Hey, at least there's nice elevator music.

As the elevator comes to a halt, the doors slide open with a soft ding, revealing the rooftop and the figure standing in the open space.

There's a figure standing at the edge of the building, you can see the person's silhouette clearly now, but you can't make out their features just yet.

Your steps are hesitant as you slowly approach the figure, the wind gently billowing around you. The city lights twinkle below, but your attention is entirely focused on the person standing at the edge of the roof. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for whatever may come, and call out tentatively, "Hello?”

Your voice rings in the air, that the person's shoulders tense.

When they look around, you're met by the same blue eyes you've known for three years now.

“Wriothesley.” You whisper, in shock, breathlessly under your breath.

He's holding.. a gun? The same gun you remember seeing in your dream.

Something in his mind snaps when you turn around, in fear. Like it was a mistake to ever see him in the first place.

Wriothesley doesn’t even give himself time to think before his body suddenly reacts, suddenly reaching out and circling his hand around your wrist to forcibly tug you back.

He yanks hard enough that you lose your balance and fall against him, his other arm coming up to wrap around your shoulders, preventing you from going anywhere.

“W-wrio—”

“think it's time we talk, sunshine.” He speak into your ear.

When you try to move the slightest from his hold, he grips you around him tighter. You figure it's best to stay still for now.

“what? Are you going to kidnap me now?” You manage to chuckle out, nervously though, your voice coming out more shaky than you intended to.

“Is that going to satisfy your little fantasy? What, I should play into it and shove you into a corner, keep you under my thumb until you’re begging me to set you free? Or no… you want to be saved by the hero.”

"You know you're not helping with your case, right? You really sound like the bad guy now.”

You’ve definitely found his breaking point because that comment makes him snap.

Wriothesley suddenly whirls you around so you’re facing him before he’s pinning you against the nearest wall, his body practically covering your own.

“Well…” He whisper, raising an eyebrow calmly in the way you look being at his mercy. “Aren’t I?”

Your jaw practically hangs at his words. Is he... Playing the bad guy now?

Or was he really… not the opposite of the hero?

He sees the shiver you try so hard to suppress and smirks at that, clearly satisfied with your reaction, “What’s wrong, sunshine? Finally realize that the man you’ve been dating isn’t the hero you've obsessing over?” He chuckles.

“i… i knew it—”

“You didn’t,” he says, his tone suddenly becoming cool and firm.

Wriothesley leans forward, pressing into you so that you’re smashed between him and the wall. His hand suddenly comes up, cupping your jaw so that he tilts your chin up to look directly into his eyes.

“If you’d known, you’d never have come within twenty feet of me. You’d never have been alone with me or spent a single night in our bed.”

He's right. And you hate it. You feel betrayed, lied to, even.

It makes you rethink your life choices.

You've gotten too comfortable with him that you didn't even think about him being the villian. You've gotten too close while you were being a complete idiot.

“you hid it.”

Wriothesley laughs, the sound almost sounding cold, “of course I hid it, sunshine. I wasn’t going to just come strutting in wearing a big, red sign saying ‘look at me, I’m a bad guy!’ was I?”

You clench your fists together, “you tricked me.”

“Tricked? No.” He shakes his head slightly. “I simply… left out key details.”

“Why?”

“ah, there it is.” He steps back, giving you space to breath, to recollect your thoughts.

“why? Because the hero isn't a hero. He started all of this destruction. Why? To get fame, recognition, power, and to be seen, to look like he's doing something when he's not.” He lets out all in one breath, and you lips part again.

“four years ago when the building almost fell on you? He did that, on purpose. then saved you to make it look like he's the one that everyone needs.”

What the hell?

“Wriothesley, we were strangers to each other four years ago. How did you know?” You don't hesitate to step closer to get more answers out of him, but he only stares at you.

You swallow thickly when he draws infront of you once again, “i did this all for you, love. I-i will do everything in my power to stop him, i will kill him so you wouldn't get hurt—”

“Okay, fucker. Out of my way,” Elias, the ’hero’, suddenly barks, and without warning, a gunshot rings out. The bullet pierces through Wriothesley's shoulder, causing him to flinch and stagger backwards.

Your eyes widen in horror as you watch the scene unfold. "Wriothesley!" you cry out, watching as he turns around despite the injury and charges towards Elias.

Despite the pain he must be in, Wriothesley doesn't relent. Ignoring the gunshot wound, he barrels towards Elias with unmatched determination, closing the distance between them.

"Bastard," Wriothesley manages to grit out as he collides with Elias, knocking him off his feet and sending them both crashing to the ground.

You don't hesitate to rush forward, with adrenaline fueling your actions, you move quickly towards them as they roll dangerously close to the edge of the roof.

"Stop!" you shout, your voice filled with desperation. "You'll fall!”

And surely enough, Your two hand clamps down on Wriothesley's, desperately grasping onto anything you can to prevent him from plunging off the edge.

Meanwhile, Elias grips Wriothesley's leg, using his strength to anchor him in place. The three of you hang there, suspended over the city, Wriothesley's body along with Elias’s dangling in the air.

“Sweetheart—”

“shut the fuck up I'm not letting go.” They're both too heavy, the feel of his fingers slipping away from yours increases everytime you try to pull them up.

Elias is purposely pulling Wriothesley's leg down to drop them both, your lips quiver, crying when two of his fingers slip now.

“hey,” his voice is soothing when he calls for you.

“at least… i protected you till the very end, right?” He tries smiling but it only makes the lump in your throat grow.

“i love you.”

“Wriothesley!”

…

“Wriothesley—!” You gasp harshly when you open your eyes so wide, finding that your hand was already reaching out for nothing.

You rest your hand on your chest before leaning back on your seat.

“are you okay?” The newscaster, the friend you made, offers you her handkerchief so you could swipe the sweat off your face.

“i think… continuesly searching about this, is making you stressed.” She points out, looking at the papers and drawings splayed out on your desk.

More theories of the disappearances of the hero and villian. Not their death. Their bodies were never found.

“it's been a year.”

The realization is like a punch to the gut as you bring a sweaty palm to rub at your temples.

“This is not over.” You whisper, more to yourself than to her. “We got no more trouble. No more heroic or bad guy news. The world is back to normal, almost like they never existed huh?”

Never existed.

She then suddenly gasps, which catches you off gaurd, “are engaged??” She eyes at the gem resting on your left ring finger.

The ring you found in one of his jacket pockets when you sorted his things out.

“yeah…” you decide to drawl out before sitting upright on your seat.

“now, if you'll excuse me, i got work to do.”

You're never going to stop searching, to find another answer of the question; 'why?'

Even if it will mean risking your life this time.

#Wriothesley #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin fluff #genshin angst #wriothesley smut #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x you #wriothesley fluff #wriothesley angst #genshin impact x you #genshin x reader #fanfic #wriothesley #genshin wriothesley #wriothesley genshin

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eepy-cookies · 1 month ago

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Characters: Shadow Milk Cookie x G/N! Reader Content Warning: Angst, Hurt/Comfort Spoilers for Beast-Yeast episode 8 of the finale Disclaimer: If the characters are ooc, remember that this is made for fun. (ngl its been a while since I type a fanfic, but I am still rusty on that so bear with me, plus I found a post on twitter that SMC could also be Blue Moon Cookie but its just a guess.)

After the defeat of the jester that got away...

There was a memory in the distant past, WAY before he himself was created. Surely you have heard the tale of the first five cookies that were made before they become the beast cookies, a cookie one of the beast fell in love but...

The witches had to hide a terrible secret that if a cookie has the most missing incomplete ingredients, that said cookie is sick and cannot live until old age.

??? Cookie: "Um... Are you sure that there is a way to create a cure?"

??? Cookie: "There is a possibility I believe, as a fount of knowledge I will find the cure. But if I kindly ask"

(I remember the first meeting we have (Y/N) Cookie, it pains me to know this...)

That unfortunate cookie named (Y/N) Cookie has an incurable illness, due to the Witch's mistake, The Fount of Knowledge was desperate to find the cure for (Y/N) Cookie, the very first friend who greeted the pre-corrupted beast in a kingdom that was now long gone. One of them falls for that unfortunate cookie, their kindness, patience, and confidence they had charmed him even if he was at his lowest. He knew the pain in the future and yet, he yearned for more.

They both get along well, it was peaceful for them. He never felt any happier just being by their side, but not all happiness last much longer.

One day he was about to give (Y/N) Cookie a gift, a love letter that will never be opened and read.

???: "(Y/N) COOKIE?!" ???: "PLEASE WAKE UP!"

He stood there shocked, (Y/N) Cookie was on the floor struggling to get up. He knew (Y/N) Cookie was sick and yet their own health is getting worse by the minute, in a act of desperation he decided to look further into knowledge casting a spell on (Y/N) Cookie to keep their health in check, but as the years go by madness took hold of him and decided to cast a spell on them.

???: "My love...I am sorry...."

Madness CLEARLY took a hold of him.

Shadow Milk Cookie: "I can't afford to lose you! So I will make you as one of my puppets! Hehehe... HAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!"

And yet...

Tears fell from his face, he drops down to his knees leaning closer to them.

He can't do it.

He can't harm the one he love dearly.

Leaving only behind a kiss on the forehead, and the unread love letter in their hands. He casted the spell that would last much longer in hopes to find a cure while he is away. After all he will just lie to himself that he killed them, it's no big deal.

----

Pure Vanilla Cookie: This must be the place.

Wizard Cookie: A coffin? Why this place?

Gingerbrave Cookie: !!! Look a cookie is inside!

Strawberry Cookie: Are they...still breathing?!

Pure Vanilla Cookie watch as the sleeping (Y/N) remained in the coffin, sleeping peacefully. To which he now understands why Shadow Milk Cookie was trying to preserve some of his energy, casting a life lasting spell was taking a toll on him even if he was sealed.

Pure Vanilla Cookie: I hope this spell allowed you to wake up...

With no other explanation another spell was casted, pure healing magic was casting on (Y/N) Cookie. Pure Vanilla Cookie witnessed this tragic memory, and yet he had to secretly admit, he is evil but his capability of magic was greater far from what he had imagined.

But all that's left was silence, and yet...

Everyone: !!!

??? Cookie: ...W....Wh....

Gingerbrave Cookie: Look their awake!

Pure Vanilla Cookie: (Y/N) Cookie..... are you awake?

(Y/N) Cookie: ...H...hung.....r..y...

Strawberry Cookie quickly pull out an extra supply of royal bear jellies and gently feed (Y/N) Cookie as the others watch in concern. In the corner of Pure Vanilla Cookie's soul jam they aren't the only ones who witness a miracle that was tragic yet so real.

---

Arriving at a safe in (Y/N) Cookie was put on a wheel chair carefully eating the jelly soup one of the cookies made, they themselves were confused knowing that they would pass on and yet here they are somehow alive, still sick but still living, as if someone was carrying the burden off from their shoulders.

(Y/N) Cookie looked at the letter that they kept and had not opened and kept it close to them at all times. They need to know what happen, what year is it, and most importantly...where are their only friends?

...

That night when everyone is asleep, (Y/N) Cookie wheeled their way to the balcony watching the stars holding the letter close to their chest. Wondering where did their friend go, glancing at the letter that was remained fresh despite how many years has passed. They opened the letter carefully just to give it a read.

But before they can actually read it...

??? Cookie: ...(Y../N) Cookie?"

That recognizable voice from behind, (Y/N) Cookie looked to see that what was once the one they knew was in a different appearance of a jester. They were supposed to feel fear and yet...

(Y/N) Cookie: ...Are...you.... Blue Moon / Blueberry Milk Cookie?

He walked closer to see if they are actually alive, (Y/N) is still sick but cannot walk properly. Their hands reached out to him, gently touching his cheek. His face was unreadable and yet...

Shadow Milk Cookie: Are you....awake? (Y/N) Cookie?

There was no voice is mischief or anything, just pure vulnerable voice he has left of them. (Y/N) Cookie nodded as he kneel on the ground gently yet carefully hugging (Y/N) Cookie hiding his face to their chest. (Y/N) Cookie gently hugged him back remembering the usual scent that they personally love.

His own body shaking which (Y/N) was crying in turn, wondering to themselves what happened to him when they are asleep for SO very long?

#crk x reader #crk x you #shadow milk cookie x reader #shadow milk x reader #//this looked rushed mb

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elikajinnie · 5 months ago

Text

You Taste So Sweet - P.S

P: Vampire!Sunghoon X Fem!Reader (16+)

Warnings: Blood, Blood Drinking, Teasing, Slight Stalking, Suggestive Content, Fated Lovers, Ambigious Ending, Predator/Prey.

Wordcount: 16,6k

Synopsis: A camping trip turns into a nightmare when a dare leads you to a vampire's castle. Instead of death, you find an alluring vampire who desires your heart and soul. As his obsession grows, you realize escaping his grasp may be impossible because he wants you more than anything.

a/n: as a kid.. i remember having a mega crush on the 3 vampire wives from Van Helsing :D but anyways, so i got some of the vampire ability ideas from @ yjskat on TikTok :) So credits to them! i also did alot of research for these themes :)

੭﹕ ̊ ̟ ꒷꒦

Ever since you were young, you were captivated by stories of mythical creatures—centaurs galloping across ancient forests, sirens luring sailors to their doom, vampires lurking in the shadows, and werewolves howling at the full moon. But as fascinating as these tales were, you never believed them. Why would they exist in the real world, especially now, in an age of science and reason?

Maybe that’s why you found yourself standing in front of a hundred-year-old castle deep in the woods. It had started innocently enough—just a weekend camping trip with some friends, far away from civilization and the distractions of the internet. After the sun had long ago dipped below the horizon, leaving the sky a blanket of darkness, you had all gathered around the campfire, pulling out flashlights to illuminate your faces in the flickering glow.

The night began with laughter and harmless stories, but somehow, things had taken a turn. One of your friends had brought up a legend—a vampire said to live in a castle not far from where you had set up camp. At first, you scoffed. Vampires? In this day and age? No way.

That’s when the dare came up. Prove it. Spend the night in the castle, and if you came back in the morning with nothing to show but a few laughs, they'd drop it. You, stubborn as always, accepted without a second thought. How bad could it be?

But now, as you stood before the towering, ancient structure, its stone walls covered in moss and shadows that seemed to shift and breathe in the moonlight, the weight of your decision settled in. The castle loomed above you, its dark, jagged spires reaching into the starless sky. For a moment, you swore the whole place was alive, like the stone itself was moving beneath your feet, pulsing with something ancient.

The wind whispered through the skeletal branches of trees surrounding the castle, and the heavy iron gates creaked eerily in front of you, almost as if they were beckoning you in. You laughed nervously, trying to brush off the unsettling feeling creeping up your spine.

“There’s nothing here,” you muttered, tugging the strap of your bag tighter across your shoulder as if it could shield you from the growing unease. The gate groaned as you squeezed through the narrow opening, and with a deep breath, you started up the path toward the castle. Each step felt heavier than the last, and you couldn’t help but glance up at the looming structure. It was completely dark inside, not a single flicker of light behind the cracked, weathered windows.

You sighed, trying to shake off the creeping dread. Of course, it’s dark. No one’s lived here for ages. You were about to convince yourself of that when a sudden rustling beside you caught your attention. Instinctively, you whipped your flashlight toward the sound, heart pounding. A black raven sat perched in a twisted tree, its beady eyes fixed on you. For a moment, neither of you moved, staring each other down in the silent night. Then, with a sharp caw, it spread its wings and soared toward the castle, disappearing into the darkness above.

You swallowed hard, shaking your head. “It’s fine, it’s fine,” you muttered under your breath, trying to ignore the way your pulse was racing. Forcing yourself to keep moving, you continued up the path, the shadow of the castle growing larger with each step.

The gravel crunched beneath your boots as you approached the heavy oak doors of the castle. The flashlight beam trembled slightly in your hand, casting long, jagged shadows on the stone. You paused in front of the entrance, staring up at the intricately carved door. The wood was ancient, worn down by centuries of wind and rain, yet still sturdy, almost intimidating.

You hesitated. Behind you, the forest was eerily silent, save for the distant rustling of leaves and the occasional hoot of an owl. It was as if the woods were holding their breath, waiting for you to make a move.

Steeling yourself, you reached out and placed your hand on the cold metal handle. The touch sent a shiver down your spine, but you ignored it, forcing yourself to push the door open with a loud creak that echoed through the empty halls inside.

The air inside was thick and musty, the scent of dust and decay hitting you as soon as you stepped over the threshold. You swept the flashlight across the entrance hall, revealing towering pillars and grand, faded tapestries hanging from the walls. Cobwebs clung to the ceiling, and the floor was littered with debris—remnants of a place long forgotten.

You sighed again, this time in a mix of relief and unease. There was no sign of anything unusual. No vampires, no strange noises, nothing that would suggest the castle was anything more than an abandoned relic. “See? Nothing to worry about,” you whispered, your voice barely audible in the vast, empty space.

But just as you were about to take another step, a loud thud echoed from somewhere deep within the castle. You froze, heart leaping into your throat as the sound reverberated through the halls. Your flashlight flickered for a second, casting the shadows into an eerie dance.

“It’s fine,” you whispered again, but this time, the words felt hollow. You weren’t so sure anymore.

You exhaled slowly, trying to steady your nerves. “It’s fine,” you muttered once more, as if saying it enough times would make it true. Deciding to set up camp before your imagination got the better of you, you unrolled your sleeping bag by the entrance. The cold stone floor sent a chill through your body as you knelt down, but you forced yourself to ignore it. After making sure your bag was securely in place, you sat back for a moment, listening to the unsettling quiet.

The idea of staying right by the door for the night was reassuring—at least you could make a quick escape if anything went wrong. But despite that small comfort, your curiosity gnawed at you. The castle felt… alive, in a way. You had already come this far, and the stories your friends had told around the campfire echoed in your mind, tempting you to explore further.

Grabbing your flashlight, you stood up, feeling an odd mixture of excitement and dread. You hadn’t come here just to sleep by the entrance. If you were going to prove there was nothing lurking in the dark, you had to see the castle for yourself. Maybe then you could return to camp in the morning and laugh it off with everyone else.

The long corridor ahead of you beckoned, its darkened arches seeming to stretch into the unknown. Your footsteps echoed against the stone as you cautiously made your way deeper into the castle. The air grew colder the further you went, as if the walls themselves were closing in around you.

The place was clearly abandoned, but it felt like you weren’t alone. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something—or someone—was watching you from the shadows.

Suddenly, you heard it again. Thud.

This time, it was louder, more distinct. It sounded like something heavy had fallen, or perhaps… something had been moved. Your breath caught in your throat as you turned in the direction of the noise, the beam of your flashlight trembling slightly.

“Hello?” you called out, immediately regretting it as your voice echoed down the hall.

There was no response, but the silence that followed felt different. Heavier.

Against your better judgment, you followed the sound, each step you took feeling like it carried you further into the unknown. At the end of the hall, there was a massive door, partially ajar. You approached cautiously, your hand hovering over the handle.

With a deep breath, you pushed the door open. It creaked loudly, revealing a grand staircase that spiraled upward into darkness. You hesitated, glancing back toward the entrance where your sleeping bag was waiting for you. For a moment, you considered turning back.

But something urged you on.

With the flashlight held tightly in your hand, you started up the stairs, each step amplifying the growing sense that something was lurking just out of sight.

You ascended the staircase slowly, each creaky step echoing louder than the last in the oppressive silence. The air grew colder with each step, and the darkness seemed to press in closer. Your flashlight’s beam flickered slightly, but you shook it, willing it to hold steady. As you neared the top of the stairs, a large, ornate doorway came into view, framed by heavy wooden doors that looked far sturdier than the ones downstairs. Unlike the rest of the castle, these doors seemed well-maintained, almost as if they were still in use.

With a deep breath, you reached out and pushed one of the doors open. It groaned loudly on its hinges, revealing what lay beyond: a grand ballroom. You stepped through the doorway, your breath catching in your throat.

The room was vast, with high ceilings and enormous windows draped with thick, faded curtains. A massive chandelier, still glittering despite its age, hung from the ceiling, casting a faint, ghostly glimmer as your flashlight passed over it. The floor beneath you was a dark, polished wood, still gleaming faintly despite the passage of time. The room, though worn, was far better kept than anything you had seen downstairs.

You scanned the room, taking in the details. Dust hung in the air, swirling in the faint beam of your flashlight, but the place didn’t feel abandoned like the lower levels had. The tattered tapestries and cracked pillars of the lower halls were replaced here by careful preservation. It was as if something—or someone—had been taking care of this part of the castle, long after the rest had been forgotten.

The eerie stillness of the ballroom weighed heavy on your shoulders. The faint echo of your footsteps on the wooden floor was the only sound. You swept the light across the room again, lingering on a grand piano in the far corner, its glossy surface free of dust. It looked as though it had been played recently, the lid slightly ajar, exposing the strings inside.

Your heart pounded in your chest, every instinct telling you this was wrong. It wasn’t just that the room was better kept than the rest of the castle—it was the strange, unshakable feeling that this place was waiting for something. Or someone.

You took a step closer to the center of the ballroom, glancing around nervously. Your footsteps were soft on the polished floor, but they felt impossibly loud in the quiet space. The air here felt heavier, as though something unseen lingered just beyond your sight.

Suddenly, you froze. From the far end of the ballroom, you heard it—a soft, almost imperceptible whisper that sent chills racing down your spine.

Your heart raced as you slowly turned toward the direction of the whisper. Raising your flashlight, you shone the beam across the far end of the ballroom. The light cut through the shadows, revealing nothing but the empty space where the sound had come from. No one was there. Just the eerie silence of the room, thick and suffocating.

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your breath, and called out, “Is anyone there?”

Your voice echoed back to you, bouncing off the high ceilings and polished floors, but there was no answer—only the hollow repetition of your own words. The stillness that followed made your skin prickle with unease.

Your grip on the flashlight tightened as you glanced around, feeling more disoriented by the second. Something was off. You knew it, but the logical part of your mind still clung to the idea that this was just an old, empty castle.

Then, you noticed something—a faint swishing sound, like fabric being stirred by a gentle breeze. You aimed your flashlight upwards and saw the source: a large window on the far wall, slightly ajar. The curtains, heavy and dark, shifted ever so slightly in the draft that crept in from the outside. The wind was toying with the edges of the fabric, making them sway back and forth like the room was breathing along with you.

You exhaled in relief, telling yourself that it was just the wind. That had to be it. The strange noises, the whisper—maybe it was just your nerves getting the better of you in this unsettling place.

But as the wind swirled through the crack in the window, the cold air carried something else with it—a faint, distant melody, barely audible. It sounded like music, haunting and old, drifting through the night like a ghostly remnant of something long past.

Your heart skipped a beat.

You shook your head, trying to shake off the creeping unease that had settled in your chest. It’s just the wind, you told yourself. An old building. No need to overthink it. The ballroom was strange, yes, but it felt safer than the decaying entrance hall you had set up camp in.

With one last glance at the open window, you turned and hurried back down the winding staircase. Each step felt faster as you tried to distance yourself from the unsettling whispers and sounds that still seemed to linger in the air. When you reached the entrance hall, you wasted no time gathering your things—your sleeping bag, snacks, and whatever else you had left behind.

As you packed up, the hard, cold stone beneath you was a stark reminder of how uncomfortable the night would be if you stayed here. The ballroom, despite its eerie atmosphere, at least had a smooth, polished floor that was far more inviting than the uneven stone slabs below. You figured you’d be able to sleep easier in a room that wasn’t as decrepit.

With your belongings secured, you made your way back up to the ballroom. The staircase creaked beneath your feet, but you ignored it this time, focused on the task at hand. When you reached the top and stepped back into the vast ballroom, the cool breeze from the window greeted you again, but it was gentler now, as if the castle had grown quiet in your absence.

You unrolled your sleeping bag in the center of the room, right under the chandelier. The polished wooden floor, though still cold, was a welcome change from the rough stone. After settling everything in place, you stood for a moment, staring around the ballroom. The eerie whispers were gone, and the faint melody you thought you had heard earlier was nowhere to be found.

You exhaled a long breath, trying to let go of the tension still gripping you. “It’s fine,” you said again, your voice soft in the stillness. The ballroom’s grandeur, though worn, had a strange comfort to it now, and maybe—just maybe—you could get some sleep here.

You sat in your sleeping bag for what felt like hours, though in reality, it had only been a short while. The ballroom was eerily quiet now, with nothing but the faint rustling of the wind from the slightly open window to break the silence. The air was still cold, but the polished floor was more comfortable than the hard stone downstairs.

Your flashlight sat beside you, its beam pointed toward the ceiling, casting soft shadows that swayed gently with the breeze. You kept glancing around the room, your eyes following the flickers of light, trying to shake the lingering feeling that something was watching you. But there was nothing. Just the grand, worn-down ballroom and the sound of your own breathing.

You pulled the sleeping bag tighter around your body, trying to warm yourself as the chill of the castle seeped in. The massive chandelier above you swayed ever so slightly, but you told yourself it was just from the draft coming in through the window. Your mind wandered back to your friends, probably huddled around the campfire, laughing at the ridiculous dare they’d set for you. It felt absurd now, sitting here alone in this massive, decaying castle, waiting for morning to come.

Finally, you decided it was time to get some sleep. There was no point in staying awake any longer, especially when nothing strange had happened since you’d returned to the ballroom. You took one last look around, reassuring yourself that everything was as it should be.

Lying down, you turned onto your side, pulling the hood of your jacket over your head as you curled up inside the sleeping bag. The quiet of the castle pressed in on you, the faint sound of the wind outside barely audible now. Your eyes fluttered shut, exhaustion from the long day finally catching up with you.

Eventually, sleep claimed you. The eerie stillness of the castle, once so unnerving, faded into the background as exhaustion took over. Wrapped tightly in your sleeping bag, you drifted into a restless slumber, your mind retreating from the strange surroundings.

But even in your sleep, something felt… off.

A faint sensation brushed against your cheek, gentle and cold, like the touch of a feather or a breeze. You hummed softly, stirring in your sleep. Your brow furrowed, and you shifted, turning onto your other side as if trying to escape the odd feeling. But the sensation returned, more insistent this time. The caress was cool and deliberate, like someone was carefully tracing the curve of your cheek.

You tossed slightly, murmuring, your body reacting to the touch but your mind too deep in the fog of sleep to fully register it. The sensation lingered, delicate yet persistent, as though whoever or whatever was responsible was toying with you, watching your every reaction.

You turned again, your breathing quickening in your sleep as the cold touch remained against your skin. Unbeknownst to you, a shadow loomed over your sleeping form, standing impossibly still. Gleaming eyes observed you with an unsettling intensity, the figure’s presence unseen but undeniably there.

And still, you slept—unaware of the watcher that hovered in the darkness above you.

੭﹕ ̊ ̟ ꒷꒦

You slowly woke to the soft glow of sunlight streaming through the cracks in the curtains, illuminating the dust particles dancing in the air. The gentle warmth coaxed you out of your sleep, and you blinked a few times, trying to shake off the remnants of dreams that felt oddly vivid.

For a moment, you lay still, the events of the previous night rushing back to you. You remembered the whispers, the caress against your cheek, and the feeling of being watched. But as you glanced around the grand ballroom, the memories felt more like fleeting shadows than genuine threats. Everything appeared normal—the chandelier sparkled in the morning light, and the polished floor was still eerily silent.

With a sigh, you pushed yourself up and stretched, feeling the stiffness in your muscles from sleeping on the floor. After a quick glance around, you began to pack your belongings. You rolled up your sleeping bag and made sure you hadn’t left anything behind. It felt good to have made it through the night, and you were relieved that the castle hadn’t consumed you in the darkness.

Once you were ready, you retraced your steps back down the winding staircase, the air warmer as you stepped out into the sunlight. The forest greeted you with chirping birds and rustling leaves, and you couldn’t help but smile at the beauty of the morning.

The campsite wasn’t far from the castle, and as you approached, you could see your friends gathered around, still bright and cheerful. They looked up when they saw you, a mix of curiosity and excitement on their faces.

“How was it?” Yuna called out, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.

You shrugged, trying to downplay your experience. “It was easy. Just an old, empty castle.” You didn’t want to admit the odd feelings you’d had or the strange sensations from the night before.

But your nonchalance only fueled their interest. “Come on! You can’t just leave us hanging like that!” Wooyoung chimed in, leaning forward with a grin. “We all want to see it now. Let’s go explore it together!”

Your stomach dropped a little at the thought, but your friends' enthusiasm was infectious. They began to gather their things, excitedly chattering about what they might find. You hesitated, glancing back toward the castle.

Still, you couldn’t let fear dictate your day. “Alright, let’s go,” you said, forcing a smile. After all, it was just a castle—nothing you hadn’t survived the night before.

As you set off toward the castle again, your heart raced with both apprehension and excitement. Maybe exploring with your friends would be a different experience entirely. After all, safety in numbers, right?

As you and your friends entered the castle once more, the atmosphere felt different with the warmth of the morning sun streaming through the windows. The grand ballroom was just as you had left it, a stunning sight in the daylight, with dust particles dancing in the rays of light.

“Wow, this place is amazing!” Wooyoung exclaimed, stepping into the ballroom and spinning around as if he were the star of a grand performance. “Imagine having a party here!”

You couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm, and the others soon joined him, their excitement palpable. Ji-Sun and Jiwon began to inspect the piano in the corner, while Mackiah wandered over to the chandelier, eyeing the outlines of the crystal fixtures with wonder.

“Okay, where to next?” Wonbin asked, looking around. “We should check out that staircase.”

The grand staircase spiraled upward, and with eager agreement, the group moved toward it.

As you ascended the staircase, you noticed the details of the castle more keenly—the intricate carvings on the banisters and the faded portraits hanging on the walls, their subjects gazing down at you with expressions both regal and haunting. At the top, a balcony overlooked the ballroom, and the view was breathtaking.

“Look at this!” Jiwon exclaimed, leaning over the edge. “Can you imagine the parties they must have had here?”

“It must’ve been incredible,” you replied, peering down at the empty space below, which now felt less intimidating in the light of day.

From there, you and your friends explored the various hallways branching off from the balcony, each leading to old rooms that seemed frozen in time. The doors creaked as you pushed them open, revealing dusty bedrooms, a library filled with crumbling books, and a dining room where the remains of an old banquet still lingered in the air.

“This is wild,” Ji-Sun said as she flipped through the pages of a weathered book, its title long faded. “I can’t believe this place hasn’t collapsed yet!”

Your friends moved through the rooms, each one filled with awe and curiosity. You found yourself drawn to a small alcove with an old tapestry depicting a grand feast, the colors faded but still vibrant in their depiction of revelry. It was a stark contrast to the silence of the castle now.

But as you all continued your exploration, you were oblivious to the dark figure that had followed you. A black raven lingered just outside, its beady eyes watching your every move with an unsettling intensity. It cawed softly, as if keeping watch over the group as you wandered deeper into the castle.

“Hey, check this out!” Wooyoung called from a room at the end of the hall, his voice echoing off the walls. “I think I found a secret passage!”

You turned to see him gesturing excitedly toward a hidden door cleverly concealed by a heavy curtain. The thrill of discovery sparked a rush of adrenaline within you, pulling you closer to the group. As you approached, the raven flapped its wings, disappearing into the shadows of the castle.

“What do you think is behind it?” Mackiah asked, peering over Wooyoung’s shoulder.

“Only one way to find out!” Ji-Sun said, stepping forward with a bold grin.

The group gathered around, anticipation buzzing in the air as Wooyoung pulled back the curtain, revealing the door.

With a deep breath, Wooyoung grasped the handle of the concealed door and pulled it open. It creaked ominously, the sound reverberating through the stillness of the hallway. The group leaned in closer, peering into the dimly lit passage that lay beyond. A cool breeze wafted out, carrying with it the faint scent of must and something else—something earthy.

“Are you sure about this?” you asked, glancing at your friends. The thrill of adventure coursed through you, but the shadows lurking just beyond the door felt unnervingly alive.

“Come on, it’ll be fun!” Ji-Sun encouraged, her eyes gleaming with excitement. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Mackiah and Wonbin exchanged amused glances, clearly eager to explore. “Besides,” Wonbin added, “if it’s just a storage room or something, we can always turn back.”

After a brief moment of hesitation, you nodded, curiosity overtaking your apprehension. The group stepped forward, with Wooyoung leading the way into the passage. You followed closely behind, your heart racing with a mix of excitement and trepidation.

The narrow hallway was dark, with only the flickering beam of your flashlight cutting through the gloom. The walls were lined with ancient stone, and cobwebs hung from the ceiling like delicate lace. You could hear the distant sound of your friends’ footsteps echoing off the walls as they ventured further in.

“Whoa, look at this!” Ji-Sun’s voice echoed back to you, her tone a mixture of awe and disbelief. You hurried to catch up, your flashlight illuminating the space ahead.

You emerged into a larger chamber, and gasps of wonder filled the air. The room was vast, its ceiling arching high above, supported by sturdy stone columns that reached toward the dark ceiling. At the center stood a large, circular table, surrounded by mismatched chairs that looked like they hadn’t been touched in decades. Dust motes danced in the light as you stepped closer.

“This must be where they held meetings or something,” Jiwon mused, brushing her fingers along the table’s surface, revealing intricate carvings underneath the layer of dust.

“Or maybe it was a secret gathering place,” you suggested, the idea thrilling you. “Like for a hidden society or something.”

As you explored the room, you noticed an old fireplace along one wall, its mantel adorned with faded photographs in gilded frames.

“Hey, look at these!” Wonbin called from the fireplace, his voice drawing you over. “These people look kind of… creepy.”

You approached and squinted at the photographs. Indeed, the faces of those in the images seemed to have an unsettling intensity, their gazes almost following you as you moved. You felt a shiver run down your spine, but you shook it off.

“Just old pictures,” you said, attempting to sound more confident than you felt.

Suddenly, from the corner of your eye, you spotted movement. You turned, instinctively pointing your flashlight toward the shadows, but saw nothing. Your heart raced, and you glanced back at your friends, who were all engrossed in their own discoveries.

“Did anyone else see that?” you asked, your voice slightly shaky.

Your question was met with puzzled looks. “See what?” Ji-Sun replied, frowning.

“Never mind,” you said, trying to brush it off. The shadows danced just out of your flashlight's reach, but there was something about the air that felt charged, as if it held secrets waiting to be uncovered.

As the group continued to explore the room, a sudden rustle echoed from the passage you had entered. Everyone froze, their heads snapping toward the source of the sound. A cold breeze swept through the chamber, carrying the faintest whisper, barely audible, yet distinct—like a voice calling from the depths of time.

“What was that?” Jiwon whispered, her eyes wide with apprehension.

Your heart thudded in your chest as you turned your flashlight toward the entrance. The shadows shifted, and you felt an inexplicable urge to flee the room, a instinct clawing at you from deep within. But you also felt a strange compulsion to stay.

You took a deep breath, ready to voice your concerns, when suddenly, the whispering grew louder—a chorus of hushed tones that seemed to echo from all around you, sending chills racing down your spine.

You glanced at your friends, who were all looking back at you with wide eyes, clearly feeling the same unsettling energy.

“Guys… I think we should leave,” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper.

But before anyone could respond, a loud thud resonated from the passage behind you, sending everyone jumping back. The tension in the air became palpable, and you could feel the fear rising among the group.

“What was that?!” Wooyoung exclaimed, his bravado fading.

“I don’t know, but I think we should get out of here,” you urged, your heart racing.

Just as you all turned to make your escape, a sharp hissing sound sliced through the air, causing you to freeze in your tracks. The noise reverberated in the cavernous room, echoing ominously off the stone walls.

“What was that?!” Wonbin asked, his voice laced with anxiety.

You all instinctively looked up, and the sight that met your eyes made your blood run cold. A mass of bats hung from the ceiling, their wings folded tightly against their bodies, and their yellow eyes glimmered in the dim light like tiny lanterns. They swayed slightly in the draft, their presence looming like a dark cloud overhead.

“Oh man, this is not good,” Mackiah whispered, taking a step back.

The hissing intensified, a cacophony of flutters and screeches that sent a wave of panic through the group. The bats began to stir, their wings rustling as they seemed to sense the movement below.

“Do you think they’re… friendly?” Ji-Sun ventured, though her tone was far from convincing.

You shook your head, feeling a knot tighten in your stomach. “I don’t think we should stick around to find out.”

As if sensing your fear, the bats suddenly took flight, swirling around in a chaotic flurry. Their wings created a thunderous sound that filled the chamber, making it hard to think or hear. In a panic, your friends began to scatter, trying to find a way out of the room.

“Run!” you shouted, urging everyone to move.

You bolted toward the exit, your heart pounding in your chest as the bats whirled around you. The sheer force of their wings felt like a gust of wind, pushing against you. You could hear your friends behind you, their shouts mingling with the chaotic cacophony of fluttering wings.

You dashed through the doorway, stumbling slightly as you exited the large chamber, and you could feel the cool air of the hallway hitting your face. It was quieter here, but you could still hear the flapping of wings echoing behind you.

“Keep moving!” Ji-Won yelled as she caught up to you, her eyes wide with fear.

You all sprinted down the hallway, adrenaline coursing through your veins. The hissing had faded to a distant memory, but the shadows felt alive, pulsating as you dashed past them.

“Where do we go?” Jiwon panted, glancing nervously over her shoulder.

“Back to the ballroom!” you suggested, hoping it was the safest place.

You veered toward the grand ballroom, bursting through the doors, you skidded to a halt, panting heavily.

“Is everyone here?” you gasped, quickly counting heads.

“Yeah, but what was that?” Wonbin asked, trying to catch his breath.

“I don’t know, but those bats… it felt like they were warning us or something,” you replied, glancing back at the door as if expecting the creatures to follow.

“They were creepy!” Ji-Sun exclaimed, her voice shaky. “We need to get out of here before something worse happens!”

You nodded in agreement, and the group gathered together, looking around for a way to leave the castle behind. The sunlight streaming through the ballroom windows was comforting, but the thought of returning to the depths of the castle sent chills down your spine.

“Let’s head back outside,” you suggested, moving toward the grand entrance.

As you approached the massive doors, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was still watching you from the shadows. You paused, glancing back toward the hallway, half-expecting to see anything, but there was nothing.

“Are we all ready?” you asked, your voice steady despite the anxiety thrumming beneath the surface.

With a series of nods, you pushed open the heavy doors, and the bright light flooded in, illuminating the worn stone path ahead. Stepping outside felt like stepping back into reality, and the cool breeze was a welcome relief.

“Let’s get back to camp and enjoy the rest of the day,” you said, trying to lighten the mood. “No more creepy castles for now.”

With a collective sigh of relief, the group started to make their way back, the tension from the bats and shadows slowly fading as laughter and chatter resumed.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of lightheartedness, a stark contrast to the unsettling events of the morning. Once you all returned to camp, the tension eased with every hour spent lounging in the sun, telling jokes, and sharing snacks around the firepit. The eerie weight of the castle seemed to vanish in the daylight, and by mid-afternoon, the memory of the bats and the cold whispers in the shadows felt more like a strange dream.

Wooyoung and Mackiah led the charge in cooking a hearty dinner—grilled meat and vegetables wrapped in foil, while Ji-Sun and Jiwon worked on creating s'mores, laughing over burnt marshmallows and chocolate smeared on their faces.

Yuna sitting by you leaned back on her elbows, gazing up at the sky as it began to change hues from bright blue to shades of orange and pink.

“This is perfect,” she sighed. You only nodded in agreement.

By the time night fell, everyone was pleasantly tired. The campfire crackled as the flames danced, illuminating the circle of your friends' faces with a soft glow. You wrapped yourself in your blanket, the chill of the night air seeping in but held at bay by the fire's warmth.

“Well, I think that was enough adventure for one trip,” Wooyoung said with a yawn, stretching his arms overhead.

“Yeah, no more creepy castles for me,” Jiwon added, rubbing her arms as if she could still feel the cold draft of the castle's hallways.

As the conversation lulled, the stars appeared one by one in the clear sky above. Exhaustion from the day's excitement began to settle over everyone, and soon enough, one by one, your friends slipped off to their tents.

You watched the fire die down, the embers glowing faintly as the world around you grew quiet. The rustling of the wind in the trees and the soft chirping of distant crickets became the only sounds. After a few moments, you finally stood up, feeling the weight of sleep tugging at you as well.

“Time for bed,” you whispered to yourself, pulling your blanket tighter around your shoulders as you headed toward your tent.

Once inside, you unrolled your sleeping bag, the familiar scent of the forest around you somehow comforting. You glanced around, hearing the faint movements of your friends as they, too, settled in for the night.

Lying down, you shifted into a comfortable position, letting the soothing sounds of the forest wash over you. Your eyes grew heavy as you listened to the distant hooting of an owl, its call echoing through the trees. The peace of the camp surrounded you, and with a long sigh, you allowed yourself to drift into sleep.

But as you slipped further into unconsciousness, a cold breeze seemed to sweep through the tent, the kind of chill that felt familiar, like the air inside the castle. You stirred slightly, but exhaustion kept you from fully waking. Somewhere in the back of your mind, a flicker of unease crept in, as if something had followed you back from the castle—something unseen, waiting in the shadows.

Yet you didn't open your eyes.

੭﹕ ̊ ̟ ꒷꒦

You woke with a start, your breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. The sensation of soft, velvet sheets beneath your fingers sent a surge of confusion through you. This wasn’t your tent. This wasn’t the camp.

Sitting up quickly, you glanced around the room, your heart pounding as you took in your surroundings. The room was grand—far too grand. The bed you sat on was enormous, draped in luxurious fabrics with dark, ornate wood framing it. Heavy curtains hung at the tall windows, blocking out all light except for a faint glow filtering through the gaps.

No. No, no, no, your mind screamed.

You were back in the castle.

“How…?” you muttered to yourself, throwing the covers off as you stood, your legs shaking slightly as they hit the cold stone floor. You tried to recall how you got here, but your memory was a blur. The last thing you remembered was falling asleep at the campsite. You had been with your friends, safe beneath the stars.

“What’s going on?” you whispered, your voice echoing in the oppressive silence.

You hurried to the door, your pulse racing as you grabbed the handle and pulled it open. The hallway beyond stretched endlessly, lit only by the faintest light from flickering wall sconces. You stepped out, the cold draft brushing past you, making you shiver.

Each step echoed in the stillness as you walked through the corridor, your footsteps hesitant but driven by a gnawing urgency to understand what was happening. The castle felt different now—more alive, more… aware. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end as though you were being watched.

Then, as you rounded a corner, a sound drifted toward you—soft, haunting, and unmistakable.

A piano.

Your heart skipped a beat as you recognized the melody. It was faint, almost like a whisper carried by the wind, but it was there. A sad, melancholic tune that tugged at your soul. The same piano that stood in the ballroom.

You swallowed hard, feeling an icy chill settle over you. The ballroom. The same room where you and your friends had explored earlier, where you had seen the bats and felt the castle's lingering presence.

The sound grew louder as you followed it, your body moving almost of its own accord as you passed through familiar hallways, each one more ominous than the last, until you reached the massive double doors of the ballroom.

The haunting melody played on, drawing you closer.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed the door open, the creak of the hinges echoing through the cavernous room. Inside, the ballroom was just as you remembered, but something was different. The light was dim, casting long shadows across the floor, and in the center of the room, sitting at the grand piano, was a figure.

They were cloaked in darkness, their form barely visible in the faint light, but their hands moved gracefully over the keys, producing the haunting melody that had lured you here.

You took a step forward, your breath catching in your throat as you spoke, your voice shaky. “Hello?”

The figure didn’t respond, continuing to play as though unaware of your presence. The melody swirled around you, tugging at something deep inside, making your chest tighten with an inexplicable sorrow.

Your feet moved on their own, carrying you closer until you stood at the edge of the ballroom floor, the soft glow of candlelight casting flickering shadows over the room. The figure finally stopped playing, their hands resting on the keys.

In the silence that followed, you felt the weight of their gaze, though you couldn’t see their face clearly.

“Why… why am I here?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, but the question hung in the air like a plea.

The figure slowly rose from the bench, the shadows clinging to them like a second skin. Then the figure turned slowly toward you, stepping fully into the faint light, and you froze in place, caught off guard by the sheer intensity of his presence. He was tall, much taller than you had imagined, his long black cloak accentuating his height and flowing gracefully with his every movement. The shadows seemed to cling to him like they belonged to him.

His pale skin contrasted starkly with his dark hair, which framed his sharp, otherworldly features. His face was elegant yet unnerving, the kind of beauty that both mesmerized and unsettled. His strong, defined jawline and sharp nose gave his face an aristocratic appearance, while a few faint moles dotted his otherwise perfect complexion. His thick, dark eyebrows added a commanding intensity to his gaze, one that made it hard to look away.

But it was his eyes that held you captive—piercing and gleaming like two pools of silver, reflecting the faint light in a way that felt almost inhuman. They stared at you with an unnerving intensity, as though they could see through you, past the surface, into the deepest parts of your soul.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, slow and deliberate, as though he found some silent amusement in your reaction. His presence was overwhelming, like the very air in the room shifted to accommodate his power. You could feel it, a heavy, ancient energy that radiated from him, seeping into the space between you.

"You are not afraid," he said, his voice smooth and low, carrying an almost hypnotic quality. He took another step closer, and your pulse quickened, though your feet remained rooted in place. "Curious, perhaps… but not afraid."

His words sent a chill down your spine, but you couldn’t bring yourself to back away. His beauty was haunting, but there was something dangerous beneath it, something ancient and powerful. The way he moved, the way he looked at you—it was as if he had all the time in the world, as if he had been waiting for you specifically.

“Who are you?” you managed to ask, your voice quieter than you intended.

He didn’t answer immediately, his intense gaze never leaving yours. Instead, he reached out slowly, his pale fingers brushing against a lock of your hair, almost tenderly. His touch was cold, but the gesture felt oddly intimate.

"You will know soon enough," he whispered, his voice like velvet, wrapping around you. "But for now, consider yourself… a guest."

The way he said it made your stomach twist. A guest in this castle, or something else entirely? You weren’t sure you wanted to find out.

A sudden caw echoed through the room, piercing the tension like a knife. The raven from earlier swooped down through the open window, its wings flapping as it landed on the ledge. His attention shifted, his cold, gleaming eyes breaking away from yours for just a moment.

It was enough.

The spell that had held you frozen broke, and you gasped for breath, your body suddenly free to move. Without thinking, you turned on your heel and ran, the sound of your heartbeat roaring in your ears. Your legs moved as fast as they could, carrying you toward the ballroom doors, your only thought to escape.

But just as you were within reach of the exit, the heavy wooden doors slammed shut with a thunderous boom. The impact left the room in total darkness, as though the very light had been snuffed out by some unseen force.

A scream tore from your throat, but it barely reached your own ears over the rush of adrenaline. Panic surged through your veins as you spun around, desperate to see where he had gone. But the darkness was impenetrable, and where he had stood moments before was now just a void.

Your breath came in ragged gasps as you fumbled toward the door, hoping—praying—it would open. But before you could even touch it, you were met with a pair of glowing red eyes, gleaming like embers in the blackness. They were upside down, hanging just inches from your face, and you stumbled backward, your heart nearly stopping.

“You’re not leaving so soon, are you?” His voice was smooth, with an edge of mockery, as if he were disappointed. You could almost hear the smirk in his tone as he added, “It’s impolite to leave without saying goodbye.”

His red eyes bore into you, his tone calm but menacing, and your body reacted before your mind could catch up. You turned and ran again, darting toward any exit, any escape.

"I love it when they run," you heard him say from behind you, his voice almost a purr.

Your heart raced even faster, and you sprinted through the ballroom, past the pillars, through the shadows, your every instinct screaming to get away. The castle was a maze, but you didn’t care. You had to get out, even if it meant throwing yourself blindly into the unknown corridors ahead. The echo of your footsteps was the only sound as you ran, knowing—feeling—that he was right behind you, enjoying every second of your terror.

As you ran through the dark, twisting corridors of the castle, his voice seemed to follow you, wrapping around your thoughts like a cold fog. It wasn’t loud—it was more like an echo, a taunting whisper in your ears, weaving in and out of your mind, always there no matter how far or fast you ran.

"You think you can escape?" his voice purred, teasing, as though the chase amused him. "There is no escape from me. Not here."

Your breaths came in short, desperate gasps as you darted down another hallway, your legs burning with every frantic step. His presence loomed behind you, unseen but felt, a shadow just out of reach. You could hear his low chuckle, an infuriating sound that sent chills down your spine.

"I could catch you any time I wanted," he said, the words floating around you like smoke. "But this… this is so much more entertaining."

Your heart hammered wildly in your chest, the thudding of your pulse so loud you were sure he could hear it. His voice was so close now, almost like he was whispering directly into your ear.

"I can hear it, you know. Your heart," he murmured, the satisfaction clear in his tone. "It’s beating so fast. So wild. I can feel your blood thrumming beneath your skin, calling to me. So sweet, so tempting."

The way he spoke about your heartbeat, your blood—it made your skin crawl. You turned another corner, stumbling slightly as your fear overtook you, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t stop.

"You’ll end up in my arms eventually," he continued, his voice velvet-smooth and filled with certainty. "Why fight it? You're running in circles, and we both know how this ends."

You pushed yourself harder, the overwhelming dread threatening to consume you. His voice wrapped tighter around your mind, mocking, as if he knew every thought, every fear coursing through you.

"And to think," he said, his voice dripping with amusement, "you didn’t even believe. You scoffed at the idea of my kind, so sure of yourself. So sure it was all just folklore."

He laughed then, a soft, mocking sound that sent shivers down your spine. "Now look at you—running from the very thing you denied. How ironic."

Tears stung your eyes, not from pain, but from the sheer helplessness of the situation. His presence felt suffocating, growing stronger with every passing second. You could feel him behind you, his gaze like a predator's, tracking your every move, savoring the chase.

You kept running, but in the pit of your stomach, you knew he was right. This was his game, and he was in complete control. The vampire wasn’t just toying with you; he was savoring your terror.

You suddenly skidded to a halt, your chest heaving as you stared ahead. A dead end.

Panic surged through you, your heart racing faster than before. You turned, pressing your back against the cold stone wall, eyes scanning the darkness for any sign of him. But there was nothing. The hallway behind you was empty, silent except for the faint echo of your ragged breathing. Yet, you knew he was there. Somewhere in the shadows, waiting, watching.

Your breath hitched as your fingers brushed against the stone at your back, searching for any way out, any escape from this nightmare. Just then, you felt something—a click beneath your palm. You barely had time to register what it was before the wall behind you shifted.

With a sudden jolt, the stone gave way, and you let out a small noise of surprise as you stumbled backward. The floor beneath your feet disappeared, and before you could react, you were sliding—falling into darkness as the wall sealed shut above you.

The stone passage gave way to a steep, slick tunnel, and you slid down fast, the air rushing past you as the world blurred around you. Your heart pounded in your chest, your hands grasping at the smooth, unforgiving surface as you tumbled deeper into the unknown. There was no way to stop yourself, no way to control the rapid descent.

The tunnel twisted and turned, and you had no idea where it led—or if it would ever end. All you knew was that it was taking you farther from him, away from the overwhelming presence that had haunted you. But at what cost?

After what felt like an eternity, the tunnel spit you out onto a hard, damp floor. You gasped, the impact knocking the wind from your lungs as you lay there, disoriented, the cold seeping through your clothes. The room you found yourself in was dimly lit by torches mounted on ancient stone walls, the flickering light casting long shadows. It looked like an underground chamber, far beneath the castle.

For a moment, you just lay there, catching your breath, trying to process what had just happened. You’d escaped—at least for now. But as the adrenaline began to fade, the terror settled in once more. You had no idea where you were, no idea how deep into the castle you had fallen.

And no idea if he was still following you.

You pulled yourself up onto shaky legs, looking around the chamber, your eyes catching on a doorway at the far end. It seemed to lead further into the labyrinth beneath the castle. You swallowed hard, a sense of foreboding settling in your gut. But you couldn’t stay here. You had to move, to keep going, even if it meant diving deeper into this strange, twisted place.

You glanced behind you, half-expecting to see those glowing red eyes emerge from the shadows. But for now, there was only silence.

You pushed yourself foward, your legs trembling as you forced them to move. Every step felt heavy, the fear still gripping you like a vice. The chamber stretched out ahead of you, dim and eerie, the flickering torchlight casting long, dancing shadows across the stone walls.

You hesitated at the doorway, staring into the hallway beyond, a narrow passage lined with more rooms, each one giving off an air of something long-forgotten. You swallowed hard, the silence around you oppressive, and took a tentative step forward.

The first room you passed was small, the door slightly ajar. Curiosity mixed with dread as you nudged it open further, revealing its contents. In the center of the room sat a single coffin, its lid partially cracked open, the heavy wood creaking under its own weight. Your breath hitched as you moved closer, half-expecting something to leap out from within.

But it was empty.

Just an old, decaying coffin, its insides lined with faded velvet. You backed away slowly, glancing over your shoulder as you left the room behind, hoping that whatever had been inside had long since departed.

As you moved further down the passage, you found another room. This one was larger, the door hanging loosely from its hinges. The coffin here was fully closed, the surface covered in a thick layer of dust. You stepped inside, your footsteps echoing in the stillness as you circled it, unease prickling at the back of your neck. Something about this room felt different—heavier, somehow. But when you finally gathered the nerve to push the coffin lid open, you found it empty too.

One by one, you passed through room after room, each holding a coffin at its center. Some were open, revealing nothing but darkness inside. Others were sealed tight, but there was no sign of life—or unlife—in any of them. The further you went, the more the rooms began to blur together, all holding the same macabre centerpiece. The coffins, despite their ominous presence, seemed abandoned.

But why?

You shuddered, the silence pressing in around you like a weight, each breath you took feeling like a strain. This place wasn’t just old—it was ancient, steeped in something far darker than time. You couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn’t a mere crypt. It felt like a lair.

And if these coffins were empty… where were their inhabitants now?

The question sent a chill down your spine, and you quickened your pace, moving from room to room, hoping to find an exit, an escape from this twisted place. But the longer you wandered through the labyrinth of coffins, the more you felt the walls closing in on you.

As you reached the end of the hallway, your breath shallow and your nerves on edge, you hesitated in front of the final door. The wood was polished, untouched by time or decay, standing in stark contrast to the worn stone and dilapidated coffins behind you. Something about this door felt different—almost inviting, as if it didn’t belong in the same world as the crypt-like rooms you had passed through.

Slowly, you reached for the handle and pushed the door open.

What you found on the other side left you momentarily speechless. It wasn’t the cold, dark chamber you had expected. Instead, you stepped into a room that felt strangely… warm. Cozy, even. The scent of aged wood and faint traces of smoke from long-dead fires hung in the air, and the soft glow from several lamps bathed the room in a golden light.

The room was well-kept, utterly free from the dust and decay that plagued the rest of the castle. Tall bookshelves lined the walls, filled with leather-bound tomes that looked like they had been carefully preserved over centuries. Plush couches and chairs were scattered around the room, their rich, dark fabrics pristine as if waiting for guests to arrive. Empty fireplaces dotted the walls, their mantels adorned with intricate carvings and relics. The ambiance was one of strange elegance and a sense of deep history.

But what caught your attention most were the portraits hanging on the walls. You walked closer, your eyes widening in recognition. The first painting was of the man, tall and regal, with the same otherworldly beauty as you had encountered in the ballroom. His dark hair fell in loose waves around his face, and though he appeared younger in the portrait, his eyes—the same piercing gaze you had locked eyes with earlier—remained the same. Cold. Intense.

Your breath hitched as you moved to the next painting. It was him again, this time standing beside another figure who looked similar in appearance, though this person’s features were softer, less severe. They were younger here, almost ageless, but there was a darkness in their eyes that hadn’t been captured in the earlier portraits.

You continued down the line of paintings, each depicting moments from what must have been his life—or rather, his existence. In some, he stood alone in grand ballrooms or ancient forests, always with that same commanding presence. In others, he was surrounded by people, but their faces were blurred, as if time had erased their significance.

Every painting radiated an unsettling energy, and with each new portrait, you felt the weight of his presence grow stronger. It was as though he had always been here, lurking in the shadows of the castle for centuries, waiting.

And now you were in his domain.

You took a shaky step back, your mind racing. The man you had met wasn’t just some passing phantom—he was something much older. The fact that this room looked so well-preserved while the rest of the castle crumbled around it told you that it was special, important. This was his space, and you had wandered right into it.

A creeping sense of dread settled in your chest as you glanced at the portrait once more. His eyes, even from the canvas, seemed to watch your every move, as though he was still there, lurking just out of sight.

As you continued to absorb the enchanting yet unsettling atmosphere of the cozy room, your eyes fell on the books lining the shelves. They were a mix of titles, but one caught your attention—a familiar spine adorned with elegant lettering. It was a book you had read long ago, a tale of forbidden love between a human and a vampire, steeped in tragedy and longing.

You approached the shelf, your heart racing. The book felt almost like a beacon, calling out to you. With trembling hands, you reached for it, pulling it gently from its place. As you did, a soft click echoed through the room, causing you to pause mid-motion. Your breath hitched as the shelf shifted slightly, revealing a narrow gap—a hidden door.

You couldn’t believe your eyes. A secret passageway? Without a second thought, you placed the book down on one of the couches, your heart pounding with anticipation. Slipping behind the shelf, you squeezed through the narrow opening, the air cooler as you entered the darkness of the hidden hallway.

The passage was dimly lit, the walls lined with rough stone, and you moved quickly, driven by a sense of urgency. You had no idea how long you had before the vampire would realize you were gone. The hallway twisted and turned, each step echoing in the silence, leading you deeper into the bowels of the castle.

Finally, you reached the end of the corridor, where a hatch stood ajar, the faint light of the moon spilling in through the crack. Your heart raced as you climbed up, pushing the hatch open and crawling through. As you emerged, the cool night air hit your face like a breath of fresh freedom.

You blinked against the brightness, taking in your surroundings. You were in a courtyard, the stars twinkling above like a million tiny lanterns. The space was overgrown with wildflowers and tangled vines, the stone walls of the castle looming high around you. It was eerily quiet, the kind of quiet that hinted at secrets lingering in the shadows.

You took a moment to catch your breath, relief flooding through you. You had escaped! But as you stood there, taking in the beauty of the courtyard, you couldn't shake the feeling that you weren’t entirely safe yet. The castle was alive with its own history, and you were still very much a part of it.

Then, just as you were about to make your way toward an exit, you heard it—a faint rustling behind you. Instinctively, you turned, heart pounding as you scanned the area. The shadows danced, and for a brief moment, you thought you caught a glimpse of dark hair and those hauntingly bright eyes among the foliage.

Your breath caught in your throat.

It was him.

“Where are you going?” His voice drifted through the air, smooth and inviting, yet laced with an undercurrent of danger.

You felt the urge to run again, to flee into the night, but your legs felt like lead. You were trapped in a moment where fear and curiosity collided, and there he was, stepping out from the shadows, a smirk playing on his lips, an ethereal figure framed by the moonlight.

You backed away, your heart racing as he stepped closer, closing the distance between you with an unsettling grace. The night air felt charged, and you could almost feel the heat radiating off him, drawing you in even as every instinct told you to flee.

You averted your gaze, focusing instead on the tangled vines and wildflowers at your feet, determined not to meet his intense stare. His presence was overwhelming, and you felt like a moth drawn to a flame, teetering on the edge of danger.

He chuckled softly, the sound smooth and velvety, cutting through the stillness of the courtyard. “Oh, my sweet,” he purred, his voice low and mesmerizing. “Why are you avoiding me? I can see you trying not to look into my eyes, and I must admit, I would love to see your beautiful eyes.”

Your heart thudded in your chest, a mix of fear and something else—a strange, inexplicable allure. He took another step forward, his gaze locking onto you with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. “I want to see all of you,” he continued, his voice almost a whisper, beckoning you to look at him.

For a fleeting moment, you felt the pull of his words, the way they wrapped around you like a silken thread. But you held strong, forcing yourself to look away. You focused on the distant trees lining the edge of the courtyard, the moonlight casting long shadows that felt like barriers between you and him.

“Come now,” he teased, his tone playful yet dripping with a seductive edge. “Don’t you want to see me too? It’s only fair, isn’t it?”

His words curled around you, tempting you to relent, to give in to that magnetic pull. But you steeled yourself, clenching your fists at your sides. “I don’t believe in vampires,” you whispered, even though the words felt hollow.

“Is that so?” His voice took on a mocking lilt, though there was an undeniable intrigue beneath it. “And yet, here you are, in my courtyard, speaking to me. Perhaps you should reconsider your beliefs.”

You took another step back, your mind racing. “I don’t want to be here,” you replied, desperation creeping into your voice. “I need to leave.”

His expression shifted, the playful demeanor slipping slightly, replaced with something darker, more serious. “You think you can just run away from me?”

The challenge hung heavy in the air. He stepped forward again, and you felt a spark of panic. But instead of fleeing, you summoned your courage and stood your ground. “I’m not afraid of you,” you declared, even as uncertainty gripped you.

“Not afraid?” he echoed, tilting his head, eyes glimmering with mischief. “Then why do you tremble? Why does your heart beat so fast, as if it's dancing to a rhythm only I can hear?”

You felt your heart racing, pulse pounding in your ears. But still, you refused to look him in the eye. “Because I know what you are,” you replied, trying to sound steady despite the tremor in your voice.

His lips curved into a slow, wicked smile, and he stepped even closer, closing the gap until you could feel the coldness radiating from him. “Then you should know that running only makes it more exciting. The chase is always the best part.”

Your heart raced faster at his words, and as you felt the pull of his gaze, you realized how dangerous this game truly was. You were caught between the urge to run and the undeniable allure of the dark figure before you, each moment stretching out like an eternity.

Before you could react, he zoomed toward you, his movements blurring in the dim light. In an instant, he grasped your waist and pulled you into a whirlwind dance, swirling you around the courtyard. The force of his embrace was intoxicating, and you found you couldn’t break free from his grip, caught in a dizzying mix of fear and exhilaration as you spun beneath the gaze of the dark figure before you.

In an instant, he wrapped his strong arms around you, lifting you effortlessly off the ground. Panic surged through you as he flew into the night sky, the wind whipping around you like a storm.

You screamed, gripping his cloak tightly, your heart racing as the ground fell away beneath you. “What are you doing?!” you yelled, your voice lost in the rush of the wind.

He only laughed, a low, melodic sound that echoed through the air. “Relax, I won’t drop you!” he teased, spinning you around in midair. His cloak unfurled behind him like dark wings, creating a mesmerizing display against the moonlit sky.

Your stomach dropped as he twirled you around, the world below a dizzying blur. Fear mingled with exhilaration, and you felt your breath catch in your throat. “You’re insane!” you shouted.

Just as you thought you might lose your nerve, he began to descend, spiraling down closer to the ground. Seizing the moment, you slipped out of his grasp, landing roughly on your feet. You stumbled but quickly regained your balance, glancing up to find surprise etched across his face. He hadn’t expected you to break free so easily.

Without a second thought, you turned and ran, bolting toward the open door of the castle. Your heart raced as adrenaline coursed through your veins, your instincts screaming at you to get away.

“Round two then…” you heard him murmur, his tone thrilled, as he followed after you. There was no rush in his movements; he glided toward you with an unsettling calmness, as if he was toying with you rather than truly trying to catch you.

You dashed back into the castle, the cool air of the interior hitting you like a wave as you ducked through the doorway. You could hear him behind you, a predator enjoying the chase. The thrill of the hunt invigorated him, and you knew he was reveling in every moment.

You sprinted down the familiar hallways, weaving in and out of rooms as you sought a place to hide or a way to escape. Your mind raced, frantically considering your options, while the echo of his laughter followed you like a shadow.

“Come now,” he called playfully, his voice echoing off the walls. “You can’t run forever.”

His words sent a chill down your spine, and you pushed yourself harder, dodging into a nearby room. You quickly glanced around, noting the furnishings and the looming shadows. It was another beautifully decorated room, but the ominous atmosphere made it feel like a trap.

Taking a moment to catch your breath, you ducked behind a large armoire, the wood cool against your back. You listened intently, the sound of his footsteps echoing through the hall as he approached. The anticipation sent your heart racing again, each thud echoing louder in your ears.

“Where are you hiding?” he called out, a hint of amusement in his tone. “You can’t hide forever."

You swallowed hard, peering around the edge of the armoire. The room was dim, shadows flickering in the corners, but you couldn’t see him yet. The tension was palpable, and as you prepared to make another move, you felt the cold chill of his presence creeping closer.

“I can smell your fear,” he teased, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. “It’s intoxicating.”

His voice echoed through the dim room, weaving around you like a silken thread. “Oh, come on now. You know it’s no fun if you don’t try to make it interesting,” he taunted, the amusement clear in his tone. You felt a rush of heat rise to your cheeks as your heart raced, adrenaline coursing through your veins.

You knew you had to stay focused, but something compelled you to look up. As your gaze traveled upward, your breath caught in your throat. There he was, hanging upside down from the ceiling like a bat, his striking red eyes fixed on you with a intense gleam. The sight was both mesmerizing and terrifying, and your instincts screamed at you to run.

Before you could react, he dropped down gracefully, landing silently beside you. The world spun as darkness enveloped you, and you felt yourself slipping away, consciousness fading into oblivion.

੭﹕ ̊ ̟ ꒷꒦

When you came to, the softness of a couch enveloped you, and you blinked against the dim light filtering through the room. The walls were adorned with rich, dark fabrics, giving the space an opulent yet eerie feel. Confusion washed over you as you took in your surroundings, noting the closed black coffin positioned ominously beside the couch and the door, which appeared solid and unyielding.

You stood up groggily, the remnants of sleep still clouding your mind. Shaking off the dizziness, you staggered toward the door, hoping to escape, but it wouldn’t budge under your hands. You shoved against it with all your strength, but it remained stubbornly closed. “No, no, no…” you murmured, fear rising like bile in your throat.

Turning away from the door, you focused on the coffin, a sense of dread washing over you. It was beautifully crafted, the wood polished to a dark sheen that seemed to absorb the light. You stepped closer, your heart thudding in your chest with each cautious footfall. The atmosphere was thick with an unsettling energy, and you felt drawn to it against your better judgment.

Your fingers brushed against the cool surface of the coffin, and you hesitated, breath hitching. Should you open it? Even if every instinct told you to turn away, to flee, but curiosity gnawed at you, urging you to find out what lay within.

Taking a deep breath, you grasped the lid, feeling the smooth, cold wood beneath your fingers. With a steadying exhale, you began to lift it, the creaking hinges sounding like a whisper in the silence. As the lid opened, darkness greeted you from within, a chill creeping into the room.

Before you could fully comprehend what you were seeing, an icy hand shot out from within the coffin, wrapping around your arm with a grip like iron. You gasped and stumbled back, your heart racing as he emerged from the coffin, his face inches from yours.

He looked just as otherworldly as before, with his pale skin and sharp features accentuated in the dim light. His dark hair framed his face, and his crimson eyes locked onto yours, gleaming with a mixture of amusement and intrigue.

“Did you miss me?” he asked, his voice low and teasing, a smirk playing on his lips.

You recoiled instinctively, yanking your arm away from his grip, but he only laughed softly, the sound echoing eerily in the enclosed space. “You shouldn’t be so scared,” he continued, tilting his head as if studying you.

“What do you want from me?” you demanded, trying to sound braver than you felt.

He leaned closer, his expression shifting to one of genuine curiosity. “You’re fascinating, really. So full of life, and yet you came all the way into my domain, challenging everything you thought you knew.”

“Let me go,” you pleaded, glancing nervously at the closed door. “I didn’t ask to be here!”

“Oh, but you’re exactly where you’re meant to be,” he replied, his tone dripping with an unsettling calmness.

As he climbed out of the coffin, his movements were fluid and graceful, almost predatory. You instinctively took a step back, your heart racing as he approached. The air around him felt charged, and the darkness of the room seemed to pulse with his energy.

He stepped closer, his eyes locked onto yours, a hungry glint flickering in their depths. “You smell absolutely divine,” he murmured, a fanged smile stretching across his lips. “I can only imagine how sweet your blood would taste.”

You backed away instinctively, but soon you felt the cold, unforgiving wall pressing against your back, trapping you. There was no escape, and the realization sent a wave of dread crashing over you. Before you could think of a plan, he closed the distance, pulling you tightly against him.

His grip was unyielding, and panic surged within you as you struggled against his hold. “Let me go!” you gasped, twisting in his grasp, but he only tsked, shaking his head slowly.

“Oh, but you’re mine now,” he said, his voice low and teasing.

With a swift motion, he leaned in, his lips barely grazing your neck. You could feel his cold breath against your skin, and it sent shivers down your spine. The sensation was both terrifying and strangely exhilarating. You instinctively wiggled free, but he only tightened his grip, his fingers like iron around your waist.

“I will earn my fill now that I have you,” he continued, his voice dripping with dark delight. “You’re trapped, sweet creature. You don’t stand a chance against me. I could sense you the moment you stepped foot into my castle.”

His gaze was intense, a mix of hunger and fascination, and you couldn’t help but feel the weight of his words. “You’ve been claimed ever since you entered my domain,” he said, his smirk growing wider. “You’re mine, and there’s no escaping that.”

The world around you felt like it was closing in, the reality of your situation dawning on you like a heavy fog. He was not just a vampire; he was a predator, and you were his prey. Your heart raced, pounding loudly in your chest, and you could almost hear it echoing in the stillness of the room.

“Please,” you breathed, trying to regain some semblance of control. “You don’t have to do this. Just let me go.”

He chuckled softly, leaning closer until his mouth hovered just above your skin. “But why would I? This is the most fun I’ve had in centuries.”

The way he said it sent a chill through you. It was a thrill for him, a game, and the realization sank deep into your bones. You could feel his cold, sharp fangs grazing your neck, teasingly close, and a rush of fear mixed with an unsettling curiosity washed over you.

He pulled back slightly to look into your eyes, an intense gaze that seemed to see right through you. “Don’t be coy,” he murmured, his voice low and sultry. “I can sense what you really feel in your heart.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” you stammered, pushing against him, your hands resting on his chest. The silk of his blouse felt cool against your skin, and the cold seeped through to your fingertips, but what sent a shiver down your spine was the absence of a heartbeat beneath your palms.

As he registered the shock on your face, he grinned wider, revealing his glinting fangs. “What did you expect?” he asked, his tone playful yet dark. “I’m an undead creature of the night, after all.”

His words sent another wave of fear coursing through you, yet the thrill of his presence was undeniable. You were teetering on the edge, caught between the instinct to flee and the inexplicable pull that drew you closer to him.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered, his voice a dark caress. “I won’t take more than you can give. For now, let’s just enjoy the moment.”

He leaned in, his lips nearly brushing against yours, the proximity igniting a fire within you that both terrified and thrilled. Just as you felt the magnetic pull to close the distance, you instinctively pulled back, breaking the tension.

He chuckled softly, a low, melodic sound that resonated in the air between you, as if he found your hesitation amusing. “Aren’t you curious?” he teased, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

You felt your resolve faltering, caught between terror and the strange allure of the unknown. Your instincts screamed at you to flee, yet part of you was mesmerized by the intensity of his gaze. You were lost in a battle of wills, and as he held you there, you couldn’t help but wonder what this encounter would truly mean.

He leaned in close again, his breath cool against your skin as he teased you, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. “You’re so captivating,” he murmured, his fingers dancing along your arm, caressing you with a gentleness that belied the danger he posed. “It’s almost a shame that I have to take you like this.”

As his gaze bore into you, something within began to unravel. You felt your defenses crumbling, the tension in your body slowly ebbing away under his intense scrutiny. It was terrifying to feel yourself succumbing, yet the more he spoke, the more you felt that fear dissipate. “That’s it… give in,” he whispered, his voice sultry and low, as he gently tilted your head to the side, exposing your neck.

Your heart raced, anticipation mingling with dread, as he opened his mouth, revealing his elongated fangs gleaming in the dim light. The sight sent a thrill of both terror and unexpected excitement coursing through you.

Before you could protest, he bit down, sharp pain piercing through your skin but quickly melting into a rush of pleasure that took you completely by surprise. A gasp escaped your lips, followed by a soft whine as he began to suck your blood greedily, drawing it from you with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine.

Your body slackened in his hold, your strength fading as he continued to feast. You felt a wave of warmth wash over you, a sensation so intoxicating that it rendered you breathless. Your hands barely clutched at the fabric of his black blouse, a feeble attempt to ground yourself, yet it felt as if every rational thought was slipping away with each heartbeat.

All you could hear was the soft sound of him huffing and groaning, as if he were savoring a fine delicacy. The sensation was overwhelming, a blend of pleasure and danger that left you lightheaded.

“Delicious,” he murmured against your skin, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through you. “You taste even better than I imagined.”

Every pull of his lips made you feel both exhilarated and vulnerable, the world around you fading into nothingness as he consumed you. You had crossed a threshold, stepping into a realm where fear mingled with desire, and it was intoxicating.

As the edges of your consciousness began to blur, you found yourself surrendering to the moment. You could feel him pulling more from you, but it no longer felt like a threat. Instead, it felt like a dark embrace, one that wrapped around you and pulled you deeper into his allure. The fear you once had started to dissipate, replaced by an unexpected yearning, and all you could think was how surreal it felt to be in his grasp—his captive.

When he finally pulled back, your vision swam for a moment, the world around you fading into a soft haze. The room swirled, edges blurring as you struggled to grasp what had just happened. He lingered close, his breath cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth that still radiated from where he had bitten you. You caught a glimpse of his lips, stained crimson with your blood, and the sight was both horrifying and oddly mesmerizing.

“Can’t waste a single drop of your blood,” he purred, his voice a low, seductive whisper that wrapped around you like silk, each word tinged with a lingering hunger. The intensity of his gaze held you captive, drawing you into the depths of his eyes—dark pools filled with an unsettling mixture of desire and something deeper.

As he leaned in closer, you noticed his long fangs retracting slowly, almost reluctantly, until they returned to their normal size. It was a strange sight, watching the sharpness dissolve into a more human form, yet the danger remained palpable. His smile, revealing just enough of those once-fearsome fangs, only added to the allure, a reminder of what he was capable of.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” he asked, his voice a low murmur that sent shivers down your spine. “The way your blood flows, so rich and warm. You can’t deny the connection we share, can you?” He moved even closer, brushing a cold finger along your jawline, his touch electric against your skin.

You watched his eyes, captivated by the way they shimmered with something that felt almost tender. “You’re special,” he continued, his voice a soft caress.

As he neared, you could feel the subtle pull of his presence, an intoxicating mix of danger and allure. He tilted his head slightly, his dark hair brushing against your cheek, and his gaze flickered down to the bite mark on your neck. The anticipation made your breath hitch as he moved with a deliberate slowness, almost savoring the moment.

Then, with a soft, teasing smile, he leaned in, his lips hovering just above your skin. You could feel the chill radiating from him, mingling with the warmth of your own blood. He extended his tongue, the tip just barely brushing against the puncture wound, and a gasp escaped your lips.

“Such a sweet taste,” he murmured, his voice a husky caress. He began to lick the remnants of your blood from your neck, his tongue gliding smoothly over your skin, each stroke sending shivers racing down your spine. The sensation was electric, a mix of pleasure and fear that left you breathless.

“You did so well,” he complimented, his voice a gentle caress. “You’re absolutely delicious.” The warmth in his tone made your heart race, a mixture of exhilaration and vulnerability flooding your senses.

He wore a soft smile, an expression that contrasted sharply with the predatory nature he had just displayed. “Now, you should sleep,” he said, his words wrapping around you like a warm blanket.

Before you could respond, you felt an overwhelming wave of drowsiness crash over you, your eyelids growing heavy. The world around you blurred again, the shadows of the room fading as you succumbed to the enveloping darkness.

Just as you slipped into the depths of sleep, you heard him whisper one last thing: “Rest, my sweet.”

The last remnants of your consciousness faded away, leaving you with the warmth of his presence lingering in your mind, a mix of fear and something akin to longing swirling within you as you drifted into a dreamless slumber.

੭﹕ ̊ ̟ ꒷꒦

When you finally woke up, the soft light of the morning sun filtered through the fabric of your tent, casting warm patterns across your sleeping bag. You sat up slowly, a sharp jolt of pain and lingering pleasure coursing through your body, making you gasp.

Grabbing your phone from your bag, you opened the camera app and hesitated for a moment, dread settling in your stomach. With a shaky breath, you turned the camera toward your neck, revealing two distinct puncture wounds where fangs had sunk into your skin. They weren’t bleeding, at least, but they were tender and very sore, a painful reminder of the night you had just endured.

Groaning softly, you covered the marks with the collar of your hoodie, hoping to hide the evidence of your encounter. You took a moment to gather yourself, shaking off the disorienting feelings that clouded your mind. Somehow, you felt a strange urge to keep it to yourself, a compulsion that tightened your throat. You couldn’t tell them. You physically couldn’t.

Taking a deep breath, you unzipped the tent and stepped outside, greeted by the crisp morning air and the sounds of your friends bustling around the campsite. They were in high spirits, joking and laughing as they packed up their gear, blissfully unaware of the turmoil brewing inside you.

“Hey, sleepyhead! You finally up?” Ji-won called, her voice cheerful and light. You managed a smile, forcing yourself to blend in with their laughter, the normalcy of the moment clashing violently with the chaos in your mind.

“Yeah, just needed a little extra rest,” you replied, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling within. You helped your friends pack the car, moving through the motions mechanically, but every time someone brushed against your shoulder or joked about the trip, you felt a pang of guilt twist in your stomach.

This was it - you were leaving the forest.

You climbed into the car, the familiar sights of trees and trails began to fade into the background, replaced by the hum of the engine and the chatter of your friends.

But the beauty of the forest was lost on you now, overshadowed by the memory of the castle and the enigmatic figure that haunted your thoughts. The drive back to the city felt interminable, a blur of colors and sounds that felt distant and unreal.

As you gazed out the window, the world sped by, but inside, time stood still. You wondered what would happen next, the memory of his voice echoing in your mind.

੭﹕ ̊ ̟ ꒷꒦

The days after returning from the forest blurred into a haze of mundane life. You went through the motions—work, meals, interactions with friends��yet your mind often drifted back to him. It was absurd, really. You didn’t even know his name. He was a vampire for Christ’s sake! He had kidnapped you, hunted you down and sucked your blood. Logic screamed that it should be over. You should be relieved, grateful even. But instead, you found yourself longing for the very presence that had terrified you.

As you watched the bite heal over the following days, the hollow feeling in your chest only deepened. It was maddening to crave someone who had brought you so much fear, but you couldn’t help it. You missed the thrill of his presence, the way he had made you feel—alive and desired in a way that was intoxicatingly dangerous.

Finally, one restless night, you’d had enough. You packed a small bag with essentials—nothing too much, just enough for a quick escape. As you walked to your car, the cool air brushed against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. You glanced up at the star-speckled sky, letting the weight of your decision settle in. This was it; you were going back to find him, to confront whatever feelings you had buried deep inside.

Just then, you heard it—the soft but unmistakable sound of flapping wings. You squinted into the darkness, and to your shock, a large bat soared toward you, silhouetted against the moonlight. Your heart raced as the creature approached, growing larger and larger until it was right above you.

In an instant, the bat transformed, wings sweeping down as if caught in an invisible breeze. The dark silhouette shifted, the outline of the creature expanding and elongating until, with a graceful flourish, the wings folded and melted into the fabric of a dark cloak. It billowed around him, framing his tall, imposing figure as he stood before you in all his otherworldly glory.

His transformation was mesmerizing, each movement fluid and enchanting, as though he were a figure drawn from the pages of an ancient tale. The bat's fur receded, revealing smooth, pale skin, and his elongated face morphed into the man—sharp features emerging from the shadows.

When he fully materialized before you, his eyes, shimmering silver and reminiscent of the moonlit night, locked onto yours with an intensity that stole your breath. Those mesmerizing orbs held a depth that beckoned you closer, promising untold secrets and dark delights.

As he stepped forward, the cloak fluttered lightly around him, accentuating his tall, imposing frame. His movements were deliberate and graceful, as though he were still part of the night air, gliding instead of walking.

“Don’t be afraid,” he said, his voice a low murmur. Before you could reply, he stepped forward and pulled you into his arms, his hold both possessive and comforting. “I couldn’t bear to be away from you. This desire, this need to be close to you—it snapped the moment you left.”

Your heart raced, a mixture of fear and exhilaration coursing through you as you gazed up at him. “I felt the same,” you admitted, the words tumbling out before you could second-guess them. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

A smile broke across his face, radiant and wicked, lighting up his features in the moonlight. “Then let’s not waste another moment.” He leaned down, capturing your lips with his in a kiss that was deep, hungry, and filled with all the longing you both had kept at bay.

As his mouth moved against yours, you melted into him, your earlier fears dissolving into a warmth that spread through your entire being. You were no longer just a scared girl standing in the dark; you were alive and desired.

You pulled back slightly from the kiss, still feeling the lingering heat of his lips against yours. “I didn’t think you would come,” you admitted, your heart racing from the intensity of the moment.

His gaze softened, and he brushed a thumb against your cheek. “You were meant for me,” he said, the certainty in his voice sending a shiver down your spine. “Long before we even met.”

Before you could respond, he lifted you effortlessly into his arms, and with a powerful thrust, he soared into the night sky. The wind whipped around you, and you gasped in a mix of exhilaration and fear as he held you tightly against him, his body a solid anchor. Below, the forest shrank away, and soon, the familiar silhouette of the castle emerged from the darkness.

He landed gracefully at the entrance, setting you down with a gentleness that belied his strength. You glanced around, awe washing over you as he led you inside. The castle felt alive, its ancient stones thrumming with an energy that pulsed in time with your heartbeat.

He guided you through dimly lit hallways until you reached a room at the heart of the castle. It was spacious, adorned with ornate furniture and draped fabrics that whispered tales of the past. The centerpiece of the room was an old portrait hanging on the wall, its colors faded but still striking.

You stepped closer, your breath catching in your throat as you took in the two figures locked in an embrace—lovers entwined as if frozen in time. They looked remarkably similar to you and him, their features hauntingly alike, as if you were gazing into a reflection of your own souls.

“We are destined to be together in every lifetime,” he said softly, his voice resonating with emotion. “Only in this one… you aren’t a vampire like me.”

You turned to him, searching his eyes for understanding. “But why? Why me?”

He stepped closer, cupping your face in his cold hands. “Because you’re the light to my darkness. My existence has always been shadowed, but you… you bring warmth, hope. I couldn’t let you go without fighting for you.”

As you looked into his eyes, the gravity of his words sank in, filling the space between you with an electric tension. You felt an overwhelming connection, as if the universe had conspired to bring you together across time and space.

“I want to understand this,” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. “I want to be with you.”

His expression softened, and he leaned closer, brushing his lips against your forehead. “Then let me show you what it means to be together in this life. We have all the time in the world to explore our love, to create a new destiny.”

He leaned in again, capturing your lips with his in a passionate kiss that sent shivers down your spine. His warmth enveloped you, igniting a fire deep within. You melted into him, lost in the depths of his embrace until he pulled away, his gaze locking onto the bite mark on your neck.

His expression shifted, a mix of hunger and longing in his eyes. “Please,” he whispered, his voice laced with an almost desperate edge. “I need to taste you again. Just a little… I promise it will feel even better this time.”

You felt a rush of excitement and trepidation as he lowered his mouth toward your neck. There was a part of you that wanted to resist, to remember the fear from before, but another part—one that yearned for him—welcomed the idea. You nodded, your breath hitching in your throat as he extended his fangs.

As they grazed your skin, a wave of anticipation coursed through you. He sank his fangs into the tender flesh, and the sensation was electric. A mix of pain and pleasure surged through your body, so much more intense than the first time. You gasped, a soft moan escaping your lips as he drew your blood, his mouth moving with a grace that sent pleasure spiraling through you.

Each pull was deeper, more fervent, and you felt your heart race in response. It was intoxicating, the way he savored every drop, as if you were the sweetest nectar he had ever tasted.

“More,” he murmured against your skin, his voice thick with desire. You could feel his cool breath against your neck, heightening the experience as he drank you in, and you willingly surrendered to him. Every fiber of your being hummed with pleasure, and you felt yourself growing weaker, but you didn’t care. You craved this connection, the intensity of being with him.

When he finally pulled back, he looked almost dazed, eyes glinting with satisfaction and desire. “You’re even sweeter than I remembered,” he said, his voice low and husky, stained with your blood.

Your pulse quickened as you met his gaze, the lines between fear and desire blurring with each heartbeat. You realized you were irrevocably drawn to him, a part of you now tethered to his dark world.

“Now,” he continued, brushing his thumb over the bite mark as if to savor the memory, “we are truly connected. You’ve given me a piece of yourself, and now I want to give you everything in return.”

He then licked his lips, a playful glint in his eyes. “I will show you what it means to be loved by a vampire,” he promised, his voice smooth like silk. “I will take such good care of you, and together, I will reveal my world to you.” With each word, he pressed soft kisses along your neck, trailing to your throat, and then finally capturing your lips with his.

As he hovered slightly in the air, cradling you in his arms, you felt an overwhelming sense of trust and desire blooming within you. You nodded, unable to contain the excitement that surged through your veins. “Show me,” you breathed, and he smiled against your lips before taking off toward his room.

The world blurred around you as he flew effortlessly, the castle’s dark beauty rushing by in a haze. Within moments, you found yourselves in his chamber, where an open coffin awaited, its interior lined with dark velvet. He slowly descended, sinking into the coffin with you on top of him, still locked in a fervent embrace.

As he kissed you, his lips peppering your face with soft pecks, he whispered sweet nothings against your skin, his hands gliding down your back, anchoring you to him. “I’ve craved to hold you like this," he murmured, his voice a melodic caress that wrapped around you like a warm embrace.

You melted against him, heart racing. His lips found yours again, melding together in a tender yet passionate dance that left you breathless. But amidst the blissful haze, a question that had burned in your mind resurfaced, demanding to be answered. Pulling back slightly, you gazed into his mesmerizing eyes, the intensity of his gaze holding you captive. “What’s your name?” you asked, your breath hitching slightly as you searched his face for the answer.

“Sunghoon,” he replied, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. The sound of his name rolled off his tongue like a secret whispered in the dark, and you felt a thrill at the intimacy it promised.

Your heart raced as you whispered your name to him, and a knowing smile spread across his lips. “I know,” he said softly, his breath ghosting over your skin as he kissed your wrist with a tenderness that made your heart flutter. It was a sweet, intimate gesture that sent shivers coursing through you, awakening a desire you didn’t fully understand.

“Become my vampire bride,” he said, his gaze intense and brimming with yearning, making you feel like the only person in the world. The weight of his words hung between you like a promise, igniting a deep urge to be close to him, to belong to him entirely. But before you could find the words to respond, he leaned in, pressing his lips to a sensitive spot on your neck. A soft whine escaped your mouth, the sound betraying your excitement and vulnerability.

“Yes,” you gasped, overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through you. “I want to.”

Sunghoon’s eyes brightened with delight, and he captured your lips again, the kiss deepening as he pulled you closer, his warmth enveloping you. But he didn’t stop there; his lips trailed down your neck, leaving a path of gentle bites and teasing kisses. Each brush of his lips sent a wave of heat through your body, a rush of pleasure mixed with anticipation that left you breathless.

He nipped and sucked at your skin, his fangs grazing you just enough to send sparks dancing beneath the surface. You could feel the blood pooling just below your skin, and with each kiss, he seemed to coax it forth, drawing it into his eager mouth. The sensations built with every passing moment, the combination of his cold touch and the warmth of your blood leaving you hazy and utterly lost in the moment.

“Please, just a little more,” he groaned, his voice thick with longing as he lavished attention on your neck. The way he suckled at your skin, lapping at the small wounds he’d created, made you gasp and arch into him, your fingers tangling in his dark hair. The sound of your whines intertwined with his groans, creating a echo in the stillness of the room.

With each tender bite, he coaxed forth more of your blood, and the line between pleasure and pain blurred beautifully. You felt as though you were teetering on the edge of something profound, lost in the depths of his dark desire and your own.

੭﹕ ̊ ̟ ꒷꒦

Just outside the window, a raven flapped its wings, its caw slicing through the thick silence of the night. It soared into the star-speckled sky, a dark silhouette against the moonlight. In a flurry of shadowy wings, a horde of bats followed closely behind, darting after the raven toward the depths of the forest.

But inside the dimly lit room, you and Sunghoon were far too consumed in each other to notice the creatures of the night flitting past. His lips were on your skin, painting soft, fevered kisses that left your heart racing and your mind spiraling. He was a whirlwind of dark passion, and you were ensnared in his spell. Every time he pulled back to meet your gaze, his red eyes sparkled with love and hunger.

(Feel free to reblog and like! <3)

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fangdokja · 2 months ago

Text

🔞“He says he’d do anything for you. But would you believe him?”

❤︎ Synopsis. Beneath his playful smile lies a predator in waiting—muscles honed for control, a filthy mind veiled by charm, and a dark obsession that festers with every glance you give him. You think he’s harmless, but when his restraint finally snaps, you’ll learn just how wrong you’ve been.

♡ Book. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Best Friend x Fem. Reader

♡ Headcanons. Unspoken Desires - Part 1

♡ Word Count. 5,283

♡ TW. dom + top + older + sadistic yandere, general non-con + manipulation, fear play, isolation, monitoring, non-con kissing and/or touching, forced relationship, BDSM, depression and mental illnesses, implied suicidal tendencies, unhealthy coping mechanisms, masturbation, hinted needle play, degradation, name calling, implied drugging

♡ Note. Due to Tumblr content guidelines involving mental illnesses, self-harm, and suicide, some plot details of the original story were purposefully made ambiguous to fit the platform.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who grew up with you in a tiny village nestled deep in the heart of a high fantasy world, where magic thrummed beneath the earth like a heartbeat and gods were whispered about in the rustling of leaves. A world where war and peace ebbed and flowed like the tides, and your childhood playgrounds were forests that spoke in riddles and rivers that glowed faintly under moonlight.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who first met you when you saved his life—or maybe he saved yours. You can’t even remember anymore. But you were just kids back then, barely old enough to wield a knife, much less survive a wolf attack in the woods. He’d laughed with bloodied teeth and sparkling eyes, like almost dying was the best day of his life.

"You’re an idiot," you’d muttered as you yanked him out of the beast’s jaws, dragging him behind a tree.

"Yeah, but you saved me," he grinned through bloodied teeth, his grin wide enough to split his face.

"Only so I don’t have to explain to everyone else why I let you die."

"Sure, sure. Keep telling yourself that."

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who was always a little too much—too fast, too loud, too bright. The kind of kid whose presence filled every corner of a room, whose schemes were impossible to ignore, and whose laugh could somehow make you feel both exhausted and alive.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who was the sun, burning at a temperature that should’ve incinerated him, and you? You were the moon, distant and cold, orbiting him only because you didn’t mind the warmth.

"You’re like a puppy," you said once, watching him pace excitedly as he rattled off yet another harebrained scheme.

"Like a what?" He froze mid-step, his eyes wide with mock offense.

"A puppy. Annoying, loud, and too full of energy."

"I am not annoying!" he exclaimed, throwing his arms out dramatically. "I’m charming."

"Sure you are."

"And loud? That’s just passion!"

"Passion’s another word for obnoxious, you know."

He gasped, clutching his chest like you’d stabbed him. "Take it back!"

"No."

"You’re heartless!"

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who was your partner in everything. You weren’t just two kids in a village—you were an unstoppable duo, a myth in the making. Climbing mountains to see if you could touch the clouds, sneaking into the elder’s home to steal forbidden scrolls, setting traps for monsters that only existed in bedtime stories.

"You’re going to get us caught," you whispered as he crouched beside the elder’s door, fiddling with the lock.

"Not if you keep watch," he replied, grinning like this was the most fun he’d ever had.

"Keep watch? I’m not an accomplice to your idiocy."

"Too late. You’re already here."

"By force."

"Uh-huh. And yet you’re still standing here, helping me."

You rolled your eyes, but your lips twitched into a reluctant smile. "I hate you sometimes."

"Only sometimes? I must be doing something right!"

Everyone else thought he was insane, but you always followed. Not because you believed in his harebrained schemes, but because his chaos made you feel alive in a way you didn’t understand.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who was terrifyingly smart in ways that shouldn’t have been possible. He didn’t just think outside the box; he dismantled it, set it on fire, and then asked why it existed in the first place. He could weave together plans and schemes that made grown adults stammer in awe—or fear.

"You’re going to blow us up one day," you deadpanned as he rigged a trap out of nothing but twigs and string.

"Not ‘blow up,’" he corrected, his hands moving deftly. "Just… scare off the bad guys."

"Bad guys? You mean the squirrels?"

"They’re shifty little things."

"You’re insane."

"And yet, you’re still standing here."

"To see how you plan to die this time."

But he was also the same boy who fell into rivers because he forgot they were slippery, or who got stuck in a tree because he didn’t think about how he’d climb back down.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who, even as a child, hated the idea of losing you. He didn’t show it in ways you’d notice—he wasn’t clingy or possessive yet—but he’d always insist on being there.

"You don’t have to follow me everywhere," you grumbled one day, watching him trail behind you.

"Yeah, but what if something happens to you?" he said, grinning like it was a joke.

"Like what? Tripping on a rock?"

"You joke, but rocks are deadly."

"You’re impossible."

"And you’re stuck with me."

Wherever you went, whatever you did, he was there. Even when he got mad at you, even when you got mad at him, the idea of being apart was something neither of you could bear.

────────────

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who, as you both grew older, turned your childhood games into full-fledged adventures.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who always made sure you had his back, just as he had yours. It didn’t matter if you were facing bandits, cursed creatures, or labyrinths that seemed impossible to escape—he would always find a way to pull you through.

And you’d do the same for him, even when he tried to stop you. Especially when he tried to stop you.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who hated how you always put yourself in danger for him.

Whether it was throwing yourself in front of an attack, volunteering to distract enemies so he could escape, or using the last of your strength to save him, it drove him absolutely insane.

He’d smile through gritted teeth, trying to play it off as his usual carefree self, but you could see the tightness in his jaw, the way his hands clenched into fists.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who started to argue with you more and more because of it.

At first, it was just teasing jabs—“You know, one day you’re going to get yourself killed pulling stunts like that.”

But when you kept doing it, his tone grew sharper, his words harsher. “Do you even care about your own life? Do you think I’d just let you throw yourself away like that?!”

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who, despite his frustration, couldn’t stop you.

No matter how many times he argued, begged, or outright yelled at you to stop risking yourself, you always brushed him off with that infuriatingly calm logic of yours.

“If I didn’t, you’d be dead. So what’s the problem?” And every time you said it, he felt like his chest was going to explode—partly from anger, but mostly from fear.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who would never admit it, but the thought of losing you terrified him more than anything else in the world.

He’d rather lose a limb, his powers, even his own mind, if it meant keeping you safe.

And the fact that you didn’t seem to value your life as much as he did made something dark and desperate coil in his chest.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who, during one of your worst arguments, snapped. His usual charm and humor vanished, replaced by raw, unfiltered rage.

“Do you think I need your sacrifices? That I’m some helpless idiot who can’t survive without you throwing yourself in harm’s way? I’m not weak, and I don’t want to watch you die for me, do you understand that?!”

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who stormed off after that, leaving you both in silence for hours, maybe even days.

But when he came back, he wasn’t angry anymore.

His voice was calm, his smile soft, but there was something unsettling about the way he looked at you, like he was trying to memorize every inch of you in case you disappeared.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who started to take more control over your adventures after that. He’d laugh and joke like normal, but he always seemed to steer you away from the most dangerous paths, even if it meant taking longer to reach your destination.

And if you ever tried to put yourself in harm’s way again, he’d find a way to stop you—whether it was with words, tricks, or, in the most extreme cases, outright forcing you to stay behind.

———

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who never thought he liked you as anything more than a best friend. You were his partner-in-crime, his constant, the only person who truly understood him. He couldn’t imagine his life without you, but that didn’t mean he liked you like that.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who felt something strange the first time you smiled at someone else like you smiled at him.

It was during one of your adventures—a random stranger you helped along the way. They cracked a joke, and for the first time, you laughed. Not your usual quiet, wry chuckle, but something brighter, something real. He grinned along with you, but inside, something cold and heavy settled in his chest.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who didn’t understand why it bothered him so much when others got too close to you.

You’d always been his.

Not in a romantic way—just in the way best friends were.

You were his partner, his moon, the person he trusted more than anyone.

But when someone else tried to share your attention, that bad feeling in his chest twisted into something darker.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who started noticing it more and more.

The way you’d listen to someone else’s plans without questioning them, even though you always teased his. The way you didn’t hesitate to step between someone else and danger, even though you knew it would make him furious. The way your expression softened when you thought no one was watching, as if you never looked at him like that.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who told himself it was nothing, just a weird phase.

Maybe he was overthinking it.

He had no reason to be upset.

You were his best friend—you weren’t going anywhere. But the more he thought about it, the more that thought didn’t feel like enough.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who started acting without realizing it. His smiles grew sharper when others talked to you, his words more cutting, his presence heavier. He’d laugh it off when you called him out, waving his hand like it was all a joke, but deep down, he knew it wasn’t.

He just couldn’t figure out why.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who, during one of your adventures, snapped at you for the first time in a way that wasn’t about your safety.

It was something small—someone you met on the road had complimented you, and you’d actually smiled back.

He didn’t know what came over him, but before he could stop himself, he was already muttering, “You’re just going to smile at anyone now, huh? What’s next, inviting them to join us?”

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who immediately regretted it when you frowned and looked away. You didn’t argue back, didn’t tease him like usual. You just stayed quiet, which somehow felt worse than anything you could’ve said.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who started avoiding the subject entirely after that. He went back to his usual carefree self—laughing, joking, pulling you into more wild adventures.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who didn’t know why he felt this way until one night, while camping under the stars, he caught himself staring at you. The way the firelight flickered across your face, the way your usually emotionless eyes softened when you stared into the flames, the way you always sat close enough for him to feel your warmth but never closer.

Something in his chest ached, and for the first time, he realized why.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who didn’t want to admit it. Didn’t want to ruin what you had, didn’t want to think about what it might mean.

But he couldn’t stop himself from wondering. Wondering if anyone else could make you smile the way he did.

Wondering if anyone else could be your constant.

———

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who isn’t stupid—he knows you don’t see him the way he sees you.

He can tell by the way you laugh around him, carefree and unguarded, like you’re sharing a joke with an older brother. By the way you roll your eyes at his antics, always more amused than annoyed.

By the way you lean on him, not like someone who’s in love, but like someone who trusts him to always be there, no matter what.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who knows he’s just your best friend, the person who drags you on adventures and watches your back.

Nothing more, nothing less.

But that doesn’t stop the knot in his chest from tightening every time you treat him like something so casual.

Like he’s just another part of your world, instead of your entire world, the way you are to him.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who wonders sometimes if he’s being selfish, wanting more than what you’re already giving him. You let him into your life, trusted him in a way you trusted no one else. But it wasn’t enough.

It was never enough.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who pretends it doesn’t bother him, flashing his usual grin and cracking jokes whenever you call him out for being clingy.

“Can you blame me? You’re my favorite person in the world! No one else even comes close.” But underneath the laughter, his mind is racing, twisting, plotting.

Because if you couldn’t love him the way he loved you, then he’d just have to make sure no one else could either.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who starts pushing the boundaries of your friendship without you even noticing.

Casual touches linger just a second too long, playful teasing takes on a sharper edge, and his protectiveness turns into something almost suffocating. If you notice, you don’t say anything—maybe because it’s easier to brush it off as just him being his usual self. But he knows better.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who tells himself it’s fine.

That he can wait. That you’ll realize it eventually.

That you’ll see no one else will ever understand you the way he does, no one else will ever protect you the way he does, no one else will ever love you the way he does.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who grows darker, quieter, when someone else gets too close to you. The usual charm and humor are still there, but there’s something off about the way he smiles, too sharp and too cold.

He won’t say anything at first, just watching, waiting, calculating.

But if they try to take you away, to pull you out of his orbit, that’s when things start to unravel.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who starts isolating you without you even realizing it. He’s the only one who can keep up with you, the only one who knows how to handle your quirks and your flaws.

The only one who will never leave you. He plants the idea so carefully, so subtly, that you don’t even question it.

It’s just the way things are.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who knows, deep down, that you don’t love him the way he loves you.

Not yet, at least. But that’s okay.

Because he doesn’t need your love—he just needs you.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who tells himself it doesn’t matter how long it takes. Days, months, years—it’s all the same to him.

Because in the end, you’ll cave.

You’ll see that no one else could ever love you the way he does. That no one else could ever deserve you.

———

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who didn’t even realize how far gone he was until one day, when you were bathing, he accidentally walked in.

You didn’t scream, didn’t flinch, didn’t even care.

Just stared at him with those cold, emotionless eyes of yours and calmly said, “Door’s unlocked.”

As if it was nothing.

As if the sight of your bare skin, the water sliding down your body, wouldn’t haunt him for the rest of his life.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who felt his breath catch in his throat, his usual wit failing him for once.

He laughed it off awkwardly, muttered some excuse about needing something, and stumbled out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

But the image of you was burned into his mind, refusing to fade no matter how hard he tried to shake it off.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who hated himself for it, hated how much his body reacted to you.

He wasn’t supposed to think about you like this, wasn’t supposed to feel this way.

But no matter how much he tried to fight it, the memory of you kept creeping back in, setting his skin on fire and making his heart race.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who found himself lying awake that night, your image replaying in his mind on an endless loop.

He could still see the way the water glistened on your skin, the way your hair clung to your shoulders, the way you looked at him so casually, so apathetically, as if you had no idea what you were doing to him.

———

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who you’ve always seen as a goofy, harmless puppy.

Sure, he’s tall and muscular—towering over most people effortlessly—but his easygoing attitude and boyish charm have always made him seem more like a loyal guard dog than anything remotely dangerous. You’ve never thought twice about sharing space with him, leaning on him, treating him like the oversized, overprotective best friend he appears to be.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who knows exactly what you think of him. He plays his part so well: the playful idiot, the one who makes you laugh when you’re down, the one who keeps you safe without asking for anything in return.

And while some parts of that are true, they’re far from the whole story. Because the truth is, underneath that sunshine grin and those puppy-dog eyes, he’s not your harmless protector. He’s something much darker, much more dangerous, and he hides it all so well.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who doesn’t just want you—he wants to own you.

Every glance, every laugh, every little touch you give him fuels something primal inside of him, something he keeps locked away beneath layers of charm and wit. Did you think his broad shoulders and ripped physique were just for show?

That all those hours spent training, honing his body, were just about looking good? No. It was for you. It’s always been for you. To keep you safe. To keep others away.

To ensure that when the time comes, no one—not even you—could stop him from taking what’s his.

———

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who goes home after a long day with you, his head swimming with the way your body brushed against his, the way your apathetic expression softened for just a second when you cracked one of your rare, sarcastic jokes.

It’s unbearable, the tension coiling tighter and tighter in his chest, and by the time he’s alone, he’s already burning up with the need for release.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who hates how much power you have over him. Hates how weak you make him feel when he’s wrapped around your little finger, playing the role of your goofy best friend when all he really wants is to pin you down and make you look at him differently—to see him not as your protector, but as something darker.

Someone who could ruin you in ways you’ve never even imagined.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who locks himself in his room, leaning back against the door with a sharp exhale, his muscles tight with tension.

The second his hand dips into his waistband, it’s like a dam breaking. He doesn’t even try to fight it anymore. His mind goes straight to you—how you’d feel, how you’d sound, how you’d look beneath him, your apathetic mask cracking under the weight of his touch.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who starts slow, dragging his hand lazily over his length as he pictures the way you’d squirm beneath him, trying to keep your composure. He knows you’d fight him at first—of course you would—but he also knows how easily you’d give in if he played his cards right.

How easily he could shatter your walls and make you depend on him, need him, the way he needs you.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who whispers your name under his breath, his voice rough with desperation as his strokes grow faster, harder, more erratic.

His mind races with all the things he wants to do to you, all the ways he wants to mark you, claim you, destroy you so completely that no one else could ever have you the way he does.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who bites his lip to muffle the low, guttural sounds escaping his throat, his free hand gripping the edge of his desk so tightly his knuckles turn white.

He pictures you underneath him, tears welling in your eyes as you try to push him away, only to melt under his touch. The thought makes his head spin, and his hips jerk up involuntarily as he chases his release.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who finally spills with a choked groan, your name falling from his lips like a broken prayer. The pleasure rips through him like a tidal wave, leaving him trembling and breathless, his body taut with the intensity of it.

But as the high fades, a darker satisfaction settles over him, mixed with a burning hunger that refuses to be quenched.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who leans back against the wall, wiping a hand over his face as he catches his breath.

He feels no guilt, no shame—only a gnawing desire for more.

Because this isn’t enough. It’ll never be enough.

He wants you for real, not just in the dark recesses of his mind.

———

You lay there, the soft, rhythmic sound of your breathing the only thing that pierced the quiet of the night. The warmth of the small, candlelit room was comforting, a stark contrast to the cold, dark woods outside the village walls.

You were nestled in your bed, the soft fabric of your nightgown clinging to your body as you drifted in and out of consciousness, your dreams filled with the excitement of the adventures you and your best friend had shared throughout the years.

Unbeknownst to you, his eyes were fixated on your form, his gaze hungry and possessive. He'd been watching you for hours, his thoughts growing darker with every passing minute.

He knew you didn't see him the way he saw you, but that was a problem that could be rectified.

He took a deep breath, his hand moving to the bulge in his pants, and whispered to himself, "Mine. You're always mine." His grip tightened as he began to stroke himself, his eyes never leaving your peaceful face.

The sound of his zipper was the only disturbance in the stillness, and he felt his heart pound in his chest as he grew harder at the thought of you, his untouchable moon.

"Sleep tight, fucktoy," he murmured, a twisted smile playing on his lips, "because when you wake up, you'll finally know who you truly belong to."

The tension grew palpable as his strokes grew quicker, his breathing becoming ragged and erratic. He was lost in his own twisted fantasy, imagining the way your eyes would widen in shock and fear as you awoke to find him there, invading your personal space, claiming what he believed was rightfully his.

"You think you can ignore me?" he whispered harshly, the anger and frustration in his voice barely contained.

"You think I don't notice when you laugh with others, when you let them touch you?" His hand moved faster, his teeth clenched in determination. "You're mine, and you always will be. I'll make sure of it."

His eyes roved over your body, lingering on the curve of your hip, the swell of your breasts, and the delicate line of your neck. The urge to reach out and touch you, to mark you in some way, was almost overwhelming.

But no, not yet.

The anticipation was too sweet.

He sat on the edge of the bed, the soft mattress groaning slightly under his weight. The room was suffocating in its darkness, only the flickering candle on the bedside table casting dancing shadows across your peaceful face.

He could see the gentle rise and fall of your chest, the soft sound of your breaths echoing in the quiet space. It was a sound he'd become all too familiar with, a sweet melody that lulled him into a sense of security and power.

His hand moved under the covers, the fabric of his own trousers straining against his growing arousal. He gritted his teeth, trying to keep his breaths even as he touched himself.

His eyes never left you, studying every curve and line of your body as if he could burn the image into his mind. You were so close, yet so far away. It was infuriating, a constant reminder of what wasn't his.

Yet.

He corrected the thought in his head with a smirk.

You were his, had always been his, even if you didn't know it yet.

He'd make sure of it.

His hand stroked faster, the wet sounds of his self-indulgence seeming too loud in the otherwise silent room. He couldn't help but feel a twisted sense of triumph as he watched your chest rise and fall, oblivious to the dark desires that swirled around you like a tempest.

"Bitchy cumdump," he murmured under his breath, the word a vile whisper that seemed to hang in the air like a curse.

"Rape slut." He liked those names, the way they painted a picture of you that was so much more… palatable than the cold, untouchable moon you portrayed to him.

But you could also be warm, alive, full of passion and fire, and he knew it.

He just hadn't figured out how to make you burn for him alone.

His hand stroked himself roughly, his eyes never leaving your sleeping form. You had your back to him, the soft curves of your body hidden beneath the thin fabric of your nightgown.

It was almost translucent, revealing the shadowy outline of your curves, your skin so pale it seemed to glow in the moonlight filtering through the window.

His eyes roved over you greedily, taking in every detail, his mind racing with thoughts of what lay beneath that delicate exterior.

He reached out with his other hand, the one not busy with his own desires, and traced a line down your spine.

You shifted slightly, a soft sigh escaping your lips, but you remained asleep. The sound of his own breath grew heavier, his strokes more frantic as he felt the heat of your body through the fabric.

"Mine," he whispered again, his voice low and guttural.

It was a promise, a vow that echoed in the quiet of the room, a declaration of war against anyone who dared to claim you.

His breath hitched as he reached the peak of his desire, his hand moving faster and faster as he thought of claiming you, making you his in every way possible.

With a low, primal growl, he came, his seed spilling onto the bed sheets.

The warmth and wetness of his release brought him back to reality, his hand slowing as he stared at the evidence of his obsession with you.

His heart raced in his chest, a heady mix of longing and satisfaction coursing through his veins. He had never felt so alive, so powerful, so… right.

He leaned back against the headboard, his eyes still glued to your form. You hadn't stirred, hadn't woken up.

It was like you were a doll, a perfect creation made just for his amusement.

He felt a twisted sense of pride that you hadn't noticed his depravity, that his need for you was so strong it could only be expressed in the dark when you were at your most vulnerable.

But that would change.

Oh, how it would change.

As he withdraws his hand from the warmth of his climax, he was careful not to disturb you, his eyes lingering on the soft rise and fall of your chest. He reaches for a cloth beside the bed to clean up the mess he’s made, his mind racing with thoughts of what he’ll do next to claim you fully.

He’s always been the one to watch over you, the one to save you, the one who understands you better than anyone else.

But now, it’s no longer enough to just be your best friend.

He reaches under his bed, his hand brushing against the cold, rough fabric of a hidden bag.

The zipper whispers open, revealing an assortment of morally questionable items: ropes, gags, handcuffs, and a few bottles of clear liquid with handwritten labels. The scent of leather and something else—something darker—wafts out, mingling with the stale air of the room.

His breath hitches as he runs his fingers over the contents, feeling the weight of each item. They're tools of his obsession, tokens of the future he's crafting in his twisted mind.

His eyes flicker back to you, sleeping so peacefully, so utterly unaware of what's to come.

He pulls out a syringe from the bag, the cold metal glinting in the moonlight.

With practiced hands, he fills it with a pink liquid, the viscous substance swirling within the glass tube like a trapped, desperate thing.

It's a potion of his own making, something that would ensure that when the time came, you'd be too compliant to resist him.

He's not a complete monster—he doesn't want to take you by force, not yet at least.

But he knows that the path to your heart is paved with fear and obedience.

He rolls the plunger between his thumb and forefinger, feeling the liquid warm against his skin. The anticipation of using it on you makes his breath catch.

He watches you sleep, the fabric of your nightgown clinging to your body like a second skin. His eyes trace the gentle curves of your breasts and the way your hips dip before flaring out, the shadow between your thighs taunting him with what lies beneath.

The urge to claim you fully is overwhelming, but he reminds himself that patience is key.

Instead, he allows his gaze to linger, his hands straying to the syringe filled with his homemade potion—a blend of aphrodisiac and sedative that would make you pliable in his hands. He imagines pushing it into your soft flesh, watching as the liquid fills you, turning you into a vessel of his desires.

He reaches out with trembling hands, his breath shallow and ragged with anticipation. His fingertips graze the soft fabric of your nightgown, tracing the line of your slit, feeling the heat radiating from your body. You stir slightly in your sleep, but do not wake, oblivious to the violation he's about to commit. He gently parts the fabric, exposing your bare skin to the cool air of the room.

He takes one of the syringes filled with his potion and holds it up to the moonlight, admiring the way the liquid shimmers. "Soon, you'll be mine," he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper, thick with lust and possession.

He brings the needle closer, poised at the entrance of your pussy, savoring the moment. "And no one will ever be able to take you from me."

♡ A/N. Actually I was trying to write wholesome, then it went to my usual writing style oop. Though, I wouldn't really say this is explicit. Seems lax for me, but that also has its own appeal.

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♡ Book 1. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology

♡ Book 2. Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires.

♡ Book 3. World Ablaze (WA) : For You, I'd Burn the World.

♡ Book 4 [you are here]. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

♡ Book 5. Ink & Insight (I&I): From Dead Dove to Daydreams.

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♡ Book 6. The Red Ledger (TRL): Stained in Lust, Written in Blood.

♡ Notice #2. This masterlist is strictly for non-con smut and serves as an exercise in refining erotic horror writing. Comments that reduce my work to mere sexual gratification, thirst, or casual simping will not be tolerated. If your response is primarily thirst-driven, keep it to yourself—repeated violations may result in blocking. Read the RULES before engaging. The tag list is reserved for followers I trust to respect my boundaries; being included is a privilege, not a right. You may request to be added, but I will decide based on trust and adherence to my guidelines. I also reserve the right to remove anyone at any time if their engagement becomes inappropriate.

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crowsofdarkness · 2 months ago

Text

Just For Tonight: Part One

-gif not mine. credit to owner-

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes

Content Warnings: 18+ smut which includes spanking, voyeurism, oral with male receiving, protected p in v with reader being on birth control, anal, and m/f/m relations.

Summary: Steve lets you live out your secret fantasy. Just for tonight.

Authors Note: This is basically porn with some plot. Part Two will be posted later. Enjoy!

Tags: @that-blonde-girl @bookofriverr

-this is not connected to my other Stucky fic Ménage a Trios-

PART TWO

“You’re such a little brat,” Steve stumbled into his bedroom with me attached on his lips.

My hand worked at the buttons of his jacket, trying to get it off, but he smacked them away.

“Steve,” I whined, my pussy clenching around nothing.

His hair wasslicked but he blew away a few loose strands. There was a darkness in his eyes, something I didn’t recognize, and for a brief moment it scared me.

“You’ve been riling me up all night knowing I can’t do anything about it. Then when I finally think we’re going to fuck, you stop and talk to an old friend for twenty minutes,” I angrily gruffed while crossing my arms over my chest.

Steve cocked his head to the side, those eyes glazing over the pout of my bottom lip before glancing over my shoulder briefly.

“Haven’t you learned anything? Don’t you want to be a good girl for me, Y/N?”

I gulped loud in the quiet darkness of his bedroom, knowing that whatever I was in for tonight wouldn’t be good.

Not like I would complain.

“Take it off,” he plucked at the strap of my dress.

I quickly shimmed out of it, letting the silky material pool at my feet. Steve’s hungry eyes raked over my bare chest and pebbled nipples, licking his lips ever so slowly. He closed the distance between us, engulfing me in a feverious kiss that was filled with biting lips and crashing teeth. His tongue devoured every inch of my mouth, reveling in the taste of my drink earlier. I scratched and clawed at his shirt, wishing he would take it off so I could graze my teeth over every inch of skin.

“You’re such a pretty little thing,” Steve bit along my jawline, down to my neck as his fingers worked circles on my clit.

I hissed in pleasure, trying to remove his clothing while I stood bare for him.

“I’m fucking tired of all the teasing, Steve,” I grumbled and began working on his belt.

The sound of skin on skin echoed in the room and I cried out in ecstasy when he slapped my ass again.

“I’m tired of you being a brat. Get on your knees,” his eyes darkened.

I stood tall to him, not backing down with a wicked smirk on my face.

“No.”

Through the darkness of his bedroom, only cast in the ever-growing light of the moon, Steve stepped back into the shadows with a playful gleam in his eye as a darker voice sounded from the corner of the room. My shoulders went stiff as the smirk was wiped off my face, knowing exactly who that voice belonged to.

“You heard him, doll. Get on your fucking knees.”

I blinked rapidly, trying to gather my bearings as I turned slowly towards the voice, now seeing the figure sitting in the corner of Steve’s bedroom. His ankle was crossed over to his other knee, tattooed hands resting on the arms of the chair.

“B-Bucky,” you gulped. “How long have you been sitting there?”

A soft click echoed in the room and it was soon bathed in an orange glow thanks to him turning on the lamp next to him. I sucked in a breath at the sight before me.

Bucky was still dressed in his party clothes and his hair somehow managed to stay perfectly combed back from when I last talked with him last on the couch less than an hour ago.

There was a typical monthly party at the Avengers Tower and even though I’d been glued to Steve’s hip all night, I found myself slipping away to talk to Bucky.

“Wait,” I turned back to Steve. “Did you two plan this?”

He gently cupped my cheek and left a chaste kiss on my lips. “I see the way you look at him, Y/N. How your eyes linger when he walks away.”

My lips parted to speak but felt a swift smack to my ass.

“Don’t lie,” Steve clicked his tongue. “It’s clear you want him to fuck you.”

“Steve,” I breathed, trying to figure out what to say.

It was futile though because it was true.

While I loved Steve with every part of my soul, lately I couldn’t ignore the way my heart leaped into my throat when Bucky walked into a room. It wasn’t always like this, I’d grown up with both of them. But recently, as Bucky started becoming healthier and growing into the man that sat before me, something in my brain kept telling me to let my gaze linger a while longer than what’s deemed normal for someone who was in a relationship.

“I know what happened in the kitchen,” Steve chuckled.

My head snapped back to Bucky, anger radiating off of me in waves. “You told him?”

He tried to wipe the smirk off of his face, failing miserably. “I don’t keep secrets from Steve.”

It felt as if a weight had pulled down my stomach when I remembered what happened in the kitchen three nights ago.

Tiptoeing down the stairs quietly in fear of waking up the rest of the house, I pulled on the bottom of Steve' shirt hoping it would cover my ass. Unfortunately it didn't and part of my yellow panties peaked through the end of it.

“Just a quick snack,” I muttered into the dark air, reaching for the fridge.

“Did you want some popcorn?”

Screaming, I whirled around to see Bucky sitting at the kitchen table, lit up by the faint light of his phone. He extended a bowl of popcorn towards me.

“What the fuck!” I held a hand to my racing heart. “You scared the shit out of me, Bucky!”

Chuckling, he rose from the table to slowly stalk over to me. “Steve asleep?”

I raised a brow. “Yeah, why?”

Bucky shrugged before running a hand through his long hair and I did my best not to gawk at his bare chest.

“My room is next to his and you’re not exactly quiet,” he said while standing in front me, towering over with his tall frame.

Heat rose to my cheeks when I realized exactly what he was talking about.

“Uh,” I pulled down the end of my shirt, hoping to cover my ass. “Sorry. Sometimes I don’t even realize how loud I can be.”

He hummed, the noise vibrating in his chest, and his vibranium fingers swiftly brushed over the heated skin of my thigh.

“Don’t apologize, Y/N. I liked what I heard.”

My gaze flashed down to his cock when I felt it brush up against my thigh, feeling exactly how much he liked what he had heard. Every part of me ignited with a burning desire that seemed to only be lit when Bucky was around. The guilt wouldn’t stop eating away at me though because I knew it was wrong to feel this way, especially because Steve also made me feel the same.

I loved Steve so much, I saw a future with him. We’d been together for years.

But the prospect of something new lingered on my mind for quite some time and the more I tried to ignore it, the harder it became to tell myself I didn’t want Bucky as well.

“Bucky,” I breathed as my eyes fluttered shut.

His fingers grazed up the skin of my thigh, burrowing up the shirt so they could rest on my hips. His warm breath tickled the side of my neck as he breathed me in deep. I didn’t push him away, I let his lips graze over the purple marks Steve left earlier and my fingers wrapped around his thick biceps. My nails dug into the skin, claiming what wasn’t mine.

“Yellow is your color, doll,” he ghosted over my lips before stalking out of the kitchen, leaving me in a pool of my own desire.

“It wasn’t anything,” I tried to tell Steve, hoping he would understand.

With his hand still resting on my cheek, he grazed his thumb just underneath my eye.

“It’s alright, honey,” he reassured you with another kiss. “I talked with Bucky and I have something to run by you.”

A sudden chill brushed over me, causing my nipples to peak.

“What is it?”

Bucky spoke next, still sitting in the chair in the corner of Steve’s room. “One night. You can have the both of us for one night.”

I nearly choked on my spit when I realized my darkest desire was about to come true.

“You’re joking, right? This is some kind of prank?” I asked Steve.

He sternly shook his head. “It’s the truth, Y/N. As long as you agree, you can have Bucky either along with me or just him. Just for tonight.”

My jaw fell to the floor in shock. There was absolutely no way that Steve was being serious. The second I touched Bucky, would he freak out and break up with me?

“How do we expect things to go back to normal after tonight? You can’t possibly think we’ll all forget this happened,” I snorted.

“Doll.”

Turning my head towards Bucky, he beckoned me over with a crooked finger but I was still unable to move. I felt Steve slink up behind me, his hands trailing up my stomach.

“It’s alright, honey,” he whispered.

Swallowing thickly, I took a step towards Bucky but he sharply shook his head.

“Crawl.”

Heat shot straight down to my core, that fire igniting as I slowly dropped to my knees so I could crawl over to him. His ocean eyes were blown wide as they tracked my every movement until I stopped in front of him.

“I need you to agree, doll,” he said, body vibrating with adrenaline.

I threw a look over my shoulder at Steve who had sat on the edge of the bed resting his elbows on his knees. He gave me another reassuring nod so I looked back to Bucky.

“Yes,” I breathed.

The pale skin his neck bobbed slightly as he swallowed. “Take my cock out and stroke it.”

Fucking finally.

My hands worked quickly to undo the button and zipper on Bucky’s pants and I gasped when I noticed how hard his cock was in the confines of his briefs.

“Do you see what you do to me?” He groaned while his cock sprang free.

I licked my lips at the sight of precum that beaded at the head of his cock; so pretty and pink.

While Steve’ was a bit shorter and thicker, Bucky’s was longer and had a vein that ran underneath. It looked angry, like he’d been fighting a boner all night long. My hand worked up and down, squeezing every so often as I went, and Bucky’s head fell back against the chair.

“Fuck,” his jaw went slack when my mouth began to take all of him.

His hands found my hair, keeping me locked in place as he fucked into my throat. My feet dug into the carpet trying to keep myself locked in place and my nails dug into his clothed thighs.

“Easy, Bucky,” Steve warned.

“She can take it. Can’t ya, doll?” Bucky’s one hand cupped my cheek, working out the tightness.

I nodded, urging him to keep going with a pat to his thigh.

Now he didn’t hold back, rising up from the chair as he fucked the back of my throat all while keeping my head in place.

“Shit,” he cursed.

Opening my eyes, I glanced up at him with tears, begging him to keep going.

“Beautiful,” he mused while holding his arms out wide moments before I felt his warm seed shoot down the back of my throat.

I hummed in such delicious delight, swallowing all of him, before falling back to my knees and wiped the drool with the back of my hand. Bucky was still slumped in the chair, breathless, and I dared a glance over to Steve to see that he was gripping the blanket tightly. I feared that maybe he was angry with what happened but realized he, in fact, loved what he saw because I could tell how hard his dick was underneath his pants.

Large hands gripped me from my armpits and forced me to sit on a lap, Bucky’s warm breath fanning over the back of my neck. He spread my legs wide, giving Steve a preview of how wet I was between them.

“Do you want to be a good girl and give him a show?”

I nodded to Steve. “Can I?”

He palmed his dick. “Of course, honey. I want to see you fall apart.”

“Touch yourself,” Bucky rasped while biting my ear.

Moaning out in pleasure, my fingers worked in fast circles against my clit and when Bucky’s cock brushed along my folds, I shivered in his embrace.

“You want my cock, doll? You’re so fucking needy for it like the slut you are.”

“Please,” I choked out. “I’ve wanted it for so long.”

I felt Bucky’s chest rumble underneath me. “Did you hear that, Steve? Your girl has been wanting my cock for a long time.”

Steve snorted. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

My entire body was red from not only the heat of my growing orgasm but the fact that these two could read me like a book. Knowing what I wanted before I even knew.

I jerked, halting my actions slightly, when Bucky pressed himself inside of me.

“She has an implant,” Steve answered for me when he realized I was too far gone with touching myself that I wouldn’t be able to answer.

Slowly but all at once, Bucky filled me completely and I groaned out his name. My hips rode against the length of it and my hand, that familiar white haze creeping into all of my senses.

Unlike how he fucked my throat, Bucky was soft and gentle while dragging his cock in and out of my pussy.

“So tight,” he bit down on the skin of my shoulder, causing me to cry out in ecstasy.

“I’m so close,” I panted, fingers working even faster.

Grunting filled my ears and through lidded eyes, I watched as Steve pumped his cock desperately trying to chase his own release. The sight of me being speared open by Bucky’s cock drove him wild, his hair no longer slicked back.

A hand turned my face and now I was staring at Bucky, whose eyes glanced down to my lips; a silent question.

“Please,” I sighed.

His lips tasted different than Steve’s. They were softer, more plump and the few hairs that peppered around his mouth tickled my skin as our tongues danced slowly together, getting used to each other.

Without warning, my orgasm tore through me violently and I screamed my release into Bucky’s mouth. His cock twitched inside of me before I felt that familiar feeling coating my insides, spilling onto my thigh and his pants.

“Fucking hell, doll,” Bucky tried to catch his breath and wrapped his arms tighter around me.

Steve halted his grip on his cock to lift me off of Bucky, tossing me onto the bed. I was exhausted but knew we were only just getting started.

“I need you now, honey.” Steve made quick work of discarding all of his clothes. “Is that alright?”

I reached out for his hand, pulling him down on top of me. “Please, Stevie.”

His eyes fluttered shut at my nickname for him and then he lined his cock up with my pussy. “I won’t last long. Seeing you on Bucky’s cock nearly tipped me over the edge.”

I ran a hand through his long hair and gave a lazy smile. “It’s alright.”

The vast difference between the two men was evident as Steve’ cock filled me. His pace was erratic, him pulling my knees to my chest so he can fuck into me even deeper.

The bed creaked beneath us, the headboard slamming into the wall, and Bucky chuckled from his corner of the room.

“This is what I would hear every fucking night. Imagining this scene in front of me; although seeing now, it’s much better than what I thought,” Bucky said.

I turned my head towards him, watching as he slowly rose from the chair to toss his clothes to the growing pile on the floor.

“Holy shit,” I mused at the sight in front of me.

Bucky was like a god, as well as Steve. A pair of super soldiers. The muscles of Bucky’s stomach constricted as he began lazily stroking his cock. I held out a hand, inviting him over to us. He was too far away, I needed to feel his body heat against me again.

“Honey?” Steve whined in my ear, causing my attention to snap back to him. “I can’t hold on.”

I pressed a kiss to his lips. “Cum for me, Stevie. It’s alright.”

I knew he wanted to try and bring me to another orgasm and felt bad. But I reassured him it was alright and soon felt himself spill inside of me; his cum mixing with Bucky’s.

Spent, he fell to the bed beside me and I gazed tiredly up at the ceiling, noticing all the faint hairline cracks that ran along it. The bed dipped at my feet and I felt Bucky’s long vibranium fingers gather the cum that started to run down my legs, forcing it back inside of me.

“We can’t have this go to waste, doll,” he pressed a kiss to the inside of my knee.

“Bucky,” I whined when he slipped in another finger. “I don't think-.”

“You can. I know you can,” his voice was gone, taken by the lust that consumed him.

Steve rose from the bed to help Bucky position me on my knees. Bucky then slipped underneath while Steve knelt behind me. His finger grazed over my puckered hole and I shivered.

We’d only have done anal a few times, more recently the last few days. It was then that I realized he was preparing me for this moment.

“Stevie,” my head fell against his shoulder.

He kissed me long and slow, savioring how I faintly tasted like Bucky.

“You can back out if you want,” he reminded me.

I shook my head. “No, I want this.”

I then looked down to Bucky, who gave me a warm smile. “I want both of you.”

It took a bit of finessing but we managed to get a perfect position as I slowly sank down on Bucky’s cock. Steve then pushed me over so my breasts could press against Bucky’s chest. His arms held me in place while Steve gathered some of the cum inside of me, coating his cock with it.

“Safe word?” He asked.

I glanced over my shoulder at him, remembering that we came up with one a while ago when we decided to start experimenting sexually.

“Mercy,” I breathed. “But don’t stop.”

“Keep her distracted, Bucky,” Steve ordered.

He did by capturing my lips in a feverish kiss, one that was a fight for dominance and ultimately, he won. My nails scraped along his scalp, causing Bucky to hiss out in pleasure.

“I’ve wanted you for so long, doll,” he admitted while moving his hips, fucking me all over again.

I brushed away the sweat sticken hair from his forehead, agreeing with a nod. “I feel the same.”

Steve left a kiss to the base of my spine. “Ready?”

I nodded and slowly, the head of his cock began to press inside of my ass and my cries were swallowed by Bucky as he kissed me again. I’d never felt so full in my life and it took me a moment to adjust to having both of their cocks inside of me at the same time.

“Tell us when, doll,” Bucky’s voice cooed in my ear.

“Go,” I urged them on.

After a moment, Steve and Bucky figured out the best rhythm that worked best and my body felt like it was in overdrive. All of my senses were heightened as both of their cocks worked in spreading me wide for them. The room filled with the scent of all three of us, tangling together with the tellings of our ever growing affair. Some might have thought this was wrong but it felt so right; so free.

This was supposed to be one night and then we would go back to our normal, everyday lives. Bucky would have to watch Steve and I be in love while he received none of that.

How was that fair to him?

How was it fair to my heart that always yearned for him?

Bucky’s vibranium fingers wrapped around my throat, his thumb titling my chin up so he can leave bruising marks there with his lips.

Steve' pace was slow, not wanting to hurt me, while Bucky’s was fast paced and down right ruthless; the perfect mixture that brought me closer and closer to the euphoric release I’d been craving.

“Doll,” Bucky bit down on the sensitive part of my neck when his second release of the night filled me.

His body fell limp underneath me but we dared not move, fear of stopping how good Steve felt inside of me.

“I love you,” Steve panted into the skin of my back.

“I love you too.”

My eyes hooked with Bucky’s and for the briefest of moments, I could see something twinkle in them. Our lips met in another kiss and not a few seconds later, both Steve and I let out our releases at the same time.

The three of us lay in a mess of tangled limbs, me snuggling up in Bucky’s chest while Steve held onto me from behind. I was sticky and wet between my legs but I couldn’t be bothered to clean up. Sleep was beginning to sink its claws into me, desperate to pull me into the darkness with it, until I felt the bed beneath me shift.

Bucky was getting ready to leave after noticing Steve was asleep, an arm draped over my stomach. But I grabbed onto his arm, stopping Bucky.

“Where are you going?”

His ocean eyes motioned to Steve behind me but I pulled him back into bed with us.

“Y/N,” he breathed.

“Please stay? For me?” I begged with bright eyes.

He brushed away a strand of hair from my face and eventually agreed with a gentle kiss to my lips. “Anything for you, doll.”

None of us knew what this meant but I think we all could agree that we’d be unable to go back to our old lives after this. I’d have to be open to Steve about my feelings for Bucky and I could only hope he’d understand that my heart was big enough to love both of them; equally.

For now though, I lay with both of them. Feeling both of their heartbeats and skin on mine lull me to the sleep my body was craving.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #sebastian stan #bucky barnes and reader #Steve Rogers #steve rogers and reader #Steve rogers smut #Bucky Barnes smut #marvel smut #stucky #stucky x reader #stucky smut #just for tonight stucky

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