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textmel8r · 5 months ago

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[ DRABBLE ] 𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 ! ( ninth installment ) in which you are forced to plan a corporate event with your office enemy .

୨୧˚ part; one. two. three. four. five. six. seven. eight. nine. ten. eleven.

୨୧˚ incl; kento nanami

୨୧˚ cw; profanity , alcohol consumption , inebriation , sexual harassment , violence , vomit

୨୧˚ an; i love nami kempo (dis shit like 4k werdssss) ALSO i’ve been getting comments that my tag list isn’t working for me dumb someone help me pls tell me what im doing wrong

୨୧˚ join my discord server ! we share headcanons, fanfic recs, color roles, and more drooling emoji

“Why am I here?” Nanami thinks out loud, glaring pointedly around the unlit dive bar. It’s unglamorous, walls garbed in eclectic music paraphernalia, references that go right past him. Flurries of reds and yellows and oranges in the decor cut brightly, shining through the dim atmosphere. Seriously, would it kill them to switch a light on? It bustles with life; university kids, Nanami is subjected to think based on the… unique fashion sense present in the room. Street wear, torn jeans, crop tops way too short to be considered shirts anymore. He cringes, feeling entirely too dated to be hanging amongst this kind of crowd. His leg bounces restlessly under the ledge of the bar, and he turns to look at you. “Why are we here?”

You’re smiling—actually smiling—flagging down the bartender. “You knew we were coming to a bar,” you cut yourself short, holding up a single finger to him whilst you relayed your order to the older gentleman behind the bar. A rum and coke, you asked politely before glancing toward Nanami. It took a moment for him to realize what that look meant.

“I’ll have scotch, neat. Thanks.”

“As I was saying,” you steal back his attention, “I made it clear we were coming to a bar. What’s the problem?”

There was a hint of an attitude catching at your words, and Nanami felt his brow twitch in frustration. “You failed to tell me that we’d be in…” He grimaces, peeking back over his shoulder to the sea of youthful patrons slinging over nearly every stool and booth. “ . . . Mixed company.” God awful pop music fizzles through the speakers, twisting and crackling with pops of static; fuel to the billowing flames of Nanami’s overstimulation. “I was expecting something a bit more sophisticated.”

“I can tell,” you’re laughing as you give him a once over, and he gets a shiver of Deja Vu from the coffee shop where you pulled the same exact move. You tweeze at the expensive cotton button down, plucking the bunched fabric of a sleeve at the crease of his elbow. “Thought we said no more fancy clothes?”

Tonight he threw together a plain white shirt and a pair of slim fit khaki pants; the quintessential dad outfit, sure, but fancy? Nanami didn’t think so. “I’m dressed down.”

“Nixing the suit jacket and tie didn’t do much. You still look stiff, man.” Two glasses are brought over, one placed before either of you respectively. Nanami stares down into the glass, a foggy, brown abyss. His alcohol looks watered down and piss cheap. “You stick out, it’s kind of embarrassing.”

“Oh please, you’re too kind.” Nanami rolls his eyes, hunching over the bar and downing a swig from the scotch. Yeah, It was definitely watered down. Fuck this place.

Your hand slaps his back. “So dramatic. I was kidding Nanami, you look fine.” A cheeky laugh reaches his ears before you tack on, “very handsome.”

Now he knows you’re messing with him.

You grin into your cup. “Stop sulking. It’s not so bad here.” Nanami would beg to differ. A debate that isn’t worth having because frankly, it’s a Saturday night and he doesn’t have nearly enough energy to draft a list of all the cons that this joint has to offer. “We got booze,” you raise your glass. “Booze makes everything better.”

His forehead wrinkles. “That’s a horrible mindset to have, Y/n.”

Your boisterous laugh outweighs the ambient chatter, and you take a hearty gulp. Nanami follows suit, albeit a bit awkwardly, tipping more spirits down his throat. You look surprisingly comfortable, slinking against the bar counter with a hazy smile that welcomes strangers in. This time, you weren’t wearing a flowery dress; instead, a low cut shirt and jeans, both equal parts dark and tight. The neckline plummeted deep, exposing slivers of your bra cups and entirely too much cleavage. By God, was his self restraint something to write home about.

It was easy to fall into comfortable conversation. All in all, Nanami enjoys talking to you now, even if once upon a time the thought of engaging with you evoked such dread that he’d outwardly avoid your presence around the office. Passing along orders specifically meant for you to other colleagues and entrusting them to deliver the message, lengthening the conveyor belt of relation simply because you got him in a tizzy. Back then, all Nanami could see when he looked at you was that cowardly girl in the bathroom with smeared lipstick and a trembling pout. How shameful, he thinks, that it took him this long to see past that terrible first impression.

“So there I was, balancing ten cups of coffee, shaking like a little bitch,” you laughed as you shared an anecdote from an internship in your university years. Nanami listened intently, head propped up on his fist as he watched your theatrics. Your cheeks flushed with the evidence of alcohol, eyes lidded, smile wobbly. Nanami was feeling the edge of his buzz coming on too, an amazing revelation considering the diluted alcohol this place served. “And I’m walking up ten flights of stairs–”

“Ten flights?” He gawks, feeling looser and matching you with melodrama. “What, did your office not have an elevator?”

You laughed. “It was out of order.”

“Your luck astounds me.”

You flip him off playfully. “I finally get to the last stair and my heel catches on the floor and I eat total shit in front of the entire room!” Nanami can’t stop his own tittering, cupping a palm over his grin. “Spilled the coffee everywhere, twisted my ankle, too. I probably laid in that puddle for ten minutes.”

“That’s why you don’t wear high heels anymore?”

There’s a grimace on your face when you nod, topping off the rest of your glass. “Mm.”

Nanami swaps his own story, of a time when he was in his third year of college and his work laptop got stolen. “I think I cried,” and you guffawed at his misery. “I’m serious, I really think I cried. Alone, on the floor of my dormitory. It was finals week, and I had written my dissertation on that laptop.”

“So what did you do?”

“I pulled an all-nighter in the library on campus and rewrote my entire thesis.” Merely remembering that chaotically stressful night had Nanami huffing a sigh of anguish and dragging an exasperated hand down his face.

The bartender slides you another drink. Gosh, he was lagging behind. “I would’ve dropped out.” You spoke over the rim of the glass.

“Trust me, I was really close.” Nanami’s eyes narrow, gaging the swell of your throat as you knock back a few swigs. “How many have you had?”

“A few.” Your answer was blunt, and from that Nanami could gather that his question had rendered you the slightest bit irritated. He understood why; you were a grown woman, who was he to regulate how many rounds you decide to have? But even with this understanding, the man couldn’t shake his concern. “More than you, old timer. Keep up.”

He shakes his head, scratching at his cheek. “This is my last for the night.” Any more, and Nanami would wake up the next morning nauseous with a pounding headache. He took precautions to avoid breaching his limits, he really disliked that hungover feeling.

You gawk at the declaration. “How lame.” Then you hiccup.

“You can call me lame now, but which one of us will wake up tomorrow not in pain?”

You wave a hand through the air, brushing off his very astute observation. “Hush, that’s for future me to deal with. Present me doesn’t have a care in the world.”

You’re immature, but it’s amusing, so he doesn’t offer any rebuttals. The way you are so insistent on living in the moment is fascinating, almost inspiring even. Nanami feels as though he’s ever crushed by the impending future, always so concerned with what the next day, next week, next month, next year brings. He thinks ahead to a fault, and because of that, forgets to enjoy the little things. But you always stop and smell the roses. It’s admirable.

“Bartender!” You wag a finger in the air, slamming down your empty glass. Fiending for yet another drink.

Okay, maybe your ability to live in the now is to a fault as well. Nanami holds a hand up, signaling the barkeep to halt. “Sorry,” he apologizes politely, “she’s all good for now, thanks.” Ain’t that the truth. Your face looked tacky with sweat, pupils scarily dilated. Your words come out dimly slurred, and your gestures uncoordinated. As your business associate, he feels obligated to intervene at this point.

A hand slaps his down. Your hand. “Hey what gives?” You’re upset with him. “Just because you’re done doesn’t mean I am.”

“You’re three sips away from throwing up on yourself,” Nanami deadpans, unphased by your drunken outburst. Unbeknownst to the two of you, another patron had taken up the stool opposite of you. To be expected; the bar was decently crowded, that being said neither of you paid much mind to the man. He was younger than Nanami for sure, his hair unkempt and shaggy, swept back by sweat and something that looked like grease. He was smiling, probably on some brand of dope that Nanami was unfamiliar with. The stranger interrupts, leaning over with his elbow planted on the countertop.

“You her father or some shit?” He speaks without any warning, catching both you and Nanami’s attention.

Father? Nanami internally grimaces, jaw tightening. Just how old does he think I am? Trying not to be offended by the inquiry, he corrects the man. “Just a concerned friend, that’s all.” You have yet to speak, still a tad caught off guard by the unexpected company.

The stranger’s grin widens, reaching shit-eating status. “Then hop the fuck off her case, man.” He shoots a pair of lidded, droopy eyes toward you, eyebrows jumping in a manner that is entirely too suggestive for Nanami’s liking. “If the lady wants another drink, then let her have another drink.”

Nanami feels the awkward tension thicken the air between this interaction. For all the shit you talked about getting hit on in bars, he would have never expected you to act so timid when put in a position like this. Nanami fully expected you to side with the latter party, to order another round of vodka-whatever and then leave with your newfound knight in shining armor. What actually happened: “No, er, my friend might be right actually,” followed by an incredibly strained chuckle. Your shoulders stiffen, Nanami can practically feel the way you harden up beside him. “I should probably take it easy.”

The man feigns grief. “Aw, c’mon. You seemed so eager before. Let me buy you another?”

“She just said—”

“I was talking to her, not you.”

Nanami was utterly shocked by the sheer gall this young man possessed. Was he trying to intimidate him? It was painfully ineffective. “I don’t want one,” you said with a little more oomph this time, fiercely hanging on the urge to defend Nanami. It made him feel strangely prideful.

The stranger’s smile never retreated, but something sinister glinted in the ocean of his dark eyes. He gave a sniff, brushing the point of his nose with the pad of his thumb before hurling yet another unwanted flirtation your way. “Baby, hey, what’s one more drink? I saw you from across the room, I’ve been dyin’ to chat you up.” Under the table, his hand slips into your personal space. Nanami sees it unfold in his peripherals; the pallor hand slithering over your lap, grabbing a handful of your denim-clad thigh. You yelped in surprise, wincing. Nanami saw it all.

He was not a violent man. In fact, he could count the number of times he’s thrown a punch in his life on one hand. Physical fights were pointless, a waste of time and energy because Nanami wholeheartedly believed that altercations were best settled with words. But the moment your nervous squeak found his ears, Nanami couldn’t control the urge to beat this guy’s face in. So that’s what he did; sliding out of his seat to round you and pull the stranger off his stool by the collar of his faux leather jacket. The material felt cheap and mingy, not something Nanami would ever be caught dead wearing. Without so much as a second thought, Nanami sends a heavy fist barreling into the meat of his cheek. One good, solid punch, and the sinewy gentleman was tumbling to the ground, walking the thin line between consciousness. “Shit…” Nanami breathes, chest heaving with barely concealed rage, knuckles throbbing to the beat of his racing heart. The bar went dead, too many pairs of eyes locked onto him to count, but the only ones he could care about were yours.

You looked at Nanami with such astonishment, with your eyes pried wide as dinner plates and your mouth ajar. He was ready for you to yell at him, to curse him for embarrassing you in a pub you frequented, but nothing came. Well, almost nothing.

“Security!” The bartender hollered thick and deep, slapping a damp rag onto the counter with a wet plap.

“Shit!” Nanami repeated, cuffing a hand around the thinnest part of your wrist, tugging you into his side as you both raced toward the exit. “Let’s go.”

You’re gurgling and grumbling, latching onto the material of his shirt as little bouts of complaining bubbled past your lips. “Not so fast!” and “Oh God, my stomach” and “I don’t feel good.” Nanami had been reduced to your crutch at this point; he bore the entirety of your weight without batting an eye because your own legs were too wobbly to do it yourself.

“I know,” he murmured, maneuvering through the crowd. “Hold it together, we’re almost there.”

The first step outside felt like entering Heaven. Nanami basked in the cleanliness of the chilly night air, gulping down a big breath of fresh oxygen that hadn’t been tainted by marijuana smoke. But suddenly, you’re detaching yourself from his hip and he’s bewildered by your sudden need for proximity. “Y/n—”

He turns to face you, only to be met with the crown of your head. Doubled over at the waist, hands on the lower fraction of your thighs, you vomit onto the dewy pavement… and his shoes. Nanami’s cursing once more, drawing closer despite how much you obviously don’t want him to. “Alright,” he coos in exasperation, gathering your hair into a bundle and holding it away from the splash zone. “It’s alright, get it out.”

“You’re… Did I just puke on y-your feet?” Your voice is croaky, something of a mixture of embarrassment and illness. You can’t even look at him.

“Stand up,” Nanami tells you. He’s unbending you, straightening your body upright with a hand pressing your back in from his bowed shape. “Can you look at me?”

You pout, childlike. “No.” You’re looking at his shoes, the toes slick with remnants of your stomach acid.

“They’re just shoes, I have a million pairs.” His head cocks to a tilt. “Would you look at me, please?”

You’re sighing, but looking up to him nonetheless. Gazing up with big, glossy eyes and wet lashes that clumped together through tears. Eyeliner diluted and cradling your undereyes in a dark embrace. You wipe your mouth with the back of a palm, smearing shimmery gloss out of the confines of your lip line. It’s all so nauseatingly familiar, this pitiful display. Nanami decides he hates seeing you like this.

“I’m sorry,” you chirp.

“Don’t apologize.”

“I’ll pay for them.”

Nanami puts a hand on your shoulder when he notices the slant in your posture. “Cut it out, that’s entirely unnecessary.” He looks around the parking lot, full of vehicles. They catch the glint from the yellowish street lamps. “Did you drive here?” He thinks it’s unlikely, seeing as you let yourself fall under such intoxication. You weren’t so irresponsible; if you drove here, you would’ve made sure you’d be able to drive home too, like he did.

You’re shaking your head. “Caught a train.”

Nanami nods, pleased. “Good. That’s good.” With all the grace and gentleness in the world, the man loops your limp arm back around his nape, securing you against his oblique with a sturdy arm snaked around your waist. Everything is ginger, lest he upset your stomach again. “Are you good to walk?”

“Yeah, I think I’m alright.”

“Then let me take you to my car.”

That pulls a frown from you. “You don’t need—need to drive me there, Nana’. The station—” Hiccup “It’s just down the road.”

The blonde glowers. “You can barely stand on your own, public transportation is out of the question.” Like Hell he’s going to let an obviously inebriated, attractive young woman such as yourself ride the subway alone. Please, don’t make him laugh. “I’m driving you home.”

“It’s out of your way.”

“I don’t care.”

It’s a slow race, but Nanami eventually hauls you to his car parked at the entrance of the lot. A midnight shade Maserati; he doesn’t miss the way you gawk at his luxurious ride. “If I had a car like this, I’d never leave it.” He laughs. You smack his bicep. “I’m not kidding, I’d sleep in this thing. She’s gorgeous.”

“She says thank you,” he huffs his response. Nanami leans you up against the side of his car, pinning you between its door and his thigh while he opens the passenger door. “Watch your head.” His hand curls around the roof’s ledge, a makeshift cushion to protect your skull as you duck into the car seat. Immediately, you’re slumping back into the comfortable leather interior, moaning out quiet mewls of exhaustion.

“Yeah, I’d definitely sleep in here.”

“Keep those eyes open.” The door swings shut, and Nanami makes haste when rounding the rear of his car to the driver’s side. He had barely toed the line of sobriety anyways, but knocking a stranger on his ass was definitely more than enough to woosh any semblance of haziness from his veins. Nanami wouldn’t think about driving—wouldn’t think about putting you or anyone else on the road in danger—if he felt even the slightest bit impaired by the scotch. Behind the wheel, the man leans across the center console to grab your seat’s safety belt, carefully dragging it over your chest and clipping it into the buckle. “I need your address first, then you can knock out.”

“My address…” You ponder, lips pursed and eyes blinking at a snail’s pace. Sleepiness prevails, and you fall in and out of slumber, head lolling and cheek mashed up against your shoulder.

Nanami carps, unappreciative of your inability to stay awake long enough for this much needed conversation. “Hey,” he bleats, patting the top of your thigh. “Come on, Y/n. I need to know where you live.”

You whine, rolling your eyes at his persistence. “The city.”

“You live in the city.” Nanami deadpans at the useless information you’ve just spared.

“Mm.” And then you’re drifting back to sleep.

Nanami pinches high on the bridge of his nose with a thumb and forefinger, over the permanent divets where his glasses have drilled into his skin. The contortment of his fingers sends another spike of pain over his bruising knuckles. “Wake up and give me a proper address.” He supposes his heated seats aren’t doing much to stave off your tiredness, so he presses his knuckle into the off button. You whine.

“I don’t remember, okay?”

That’s how you ended up at Nanami’s home, tucked under his lavish sheets in his bed that’s entirely too big for one person. Your outfit had been neatly folded and piled upon his dresser, exchanged for one of his tee shirts and a pair of sweatpants that were cinched at the waist. He helped you into his clothes—with your undivided consent, of course. A completely clinical and respectful process; Nanami looked elsewhere, acting as a handle for you to hold onto as you stepped into the oversized pants he held open for you. They were far too wide, falling off your hips, so he took the time to tie a precious, little bow with the drawstrings.

“Comfy?” He asks upon his return to the bedroom, holding a glass of tap water in one hand, a bottle of pills rattling in the other. You’re exactly where he left you; swimming in his bedsheets, the comforter hoisted up to your chest. Nanami sets the water down on the bedside table, then takes a seat on the edge of his mattress, working the bottle open.

“I’ve never been more comfortable,” you sigh blissfully, taking a deep inhale. “Your blankets smell good.”

The blonde can’t help his chuckle. “I’ll give you the name of the laundry detergent I use tomorrow.” With deft fingers, he plucks two small tablets, light pain medication, and sets the pair on the table next to your water glass.

“Promise?” Your tongue pokes out from between your teeth, playful. He chides an airy yes, snapping the tylenol bottle shut. Then, your smile fades; you’re averting your eyes, fixing them somewhere over to the blank canvas of Nanami’s gray, bedroom wall. “Hey, um…” He watched the side of your face, watches the flex of your jawline and the tension in your neck. “Did I—I didn’t really throw up on you, right?”

You rub at your temple, like you’re trying to find the memory but it’s just out of reach. “No,” he replies instantly, steadily, like it’s not a complete lie. Like his bile-ridden shoes aren’t sitting outside on his front door step, waiting to be cleaned. “You don’t remember?”

“It’s fuzzy,” you grumble, frustrated with yourself. “I had too much.”

Normal circumstances permitted, Nanami would’ve totally took this opportunity to have his I told you so moment. But you already looked upset, maybe a little bit sick still, so he bit his tongue for you. “Some drunk imbecile interrupted us. We shared words, and then he got sick on us.” He was pleased with himself, his story must’ve been believable with the way you nodded along.

“And then you punched him, right?”

His face drops. “That’s what you remember?”

Your shrug. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget it, Nanami. Not for my entire life.”

“Kento.” You hum, confused, so he reiterates, “I mean, call me Kento. I just clothed you, I’d say we’re close enough.” It’s true, you guys were getting more and more comfortable together by the day. Even outside of work and the management project, Nanami and you share text conversations more frequently than he would’ve ever imagined. And these little hangouts—granted, only two have been executed thus far—have been the most fun he’s had in ages. More fun than he’d ever hope to have with his ‘friendly’ business colleagues. You’re his friend.

You, Y/n L/n, are his friend. What a strange fucking twist of events, it nearly gives Nanami whiplash.

“Ken… To…” You speak each syllable slowly, peeking up at him through your eyelashes. He nods, grinning easily. Happy. “Kento, Kento, Ken—”

“Okay, okay enough.” He rises, arms raised as he gives a hearty stretch to his back. “It’s bedtime. Over there,” Nanami points at a door, “is the bathroom if you need it. You’ve got water here, and make sure you take the medicine in the mornings. You’re going to have a terrible migraine.”

“Wait, where are you gonna go?”

“I’ll take the couch for tonight.”

“Kento…” You whine, and he really wished you wouldn’t do that. “C’mere. There’s room.”

You’re patting the expansive open space beside you, peeling back the heavy blankets. It’s an enticing offer, to slip in beside you and feed off your body heat. To hold you to him and— Stop, what are you thinking? Stupid. “I think it’s best we don’t. Sorry.” And then he’s fleeing to the door because the way in which he worded that made the depths of his soul curl with cringe. Nanami bids you a polite sleep well before leaving you to the darkness, though he has enough sense left to keep the door cracked just in case you should yell for him in the night.

likes and reblogs are appreciated !

tags . • @justbelljust @amnmich @ti-mame @silkija @maddietries @vyntagei @ebrysteria @aesukuni @lololooolleonnaaa @nanamiswife22 @r0ckst4rjk @mizzfizz @saiki-enthusiast @taelattecookie @enchantingkitty @kindadolly @reinam00n @hqtoge @syamamas @numblytemporary @xxravenxstarxx-blog @bloomedintome @guacam011y @jameinfrau @luvvmae @kazisupreme @nowhoremones @https-tank @venjrnjrbhrr19 @ya9amicide @darkstarlight82 @archivefortoji @alczam02 @kaiparkerwifes @kenz1eluvs @iaminyourfloors @queeen-goldfish @beautifulloverwitch @nxuriah @invisible-mori @hexrts-anatomy @katharinasdiaryy @moonlightazriel @mermaidian02 @squishies0102 @saintkaylaa @vi-ola666 @alettertonana @seeyapizzazz @jtoddlover

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starszinhis3y3s · 2 months ago

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im so dead ☠️ soon as i saw "nothin in this holler" i KNEW to stay 100 fucken yards back from that gate 😭 & entire property line

you have to be fucking kidding me dude i don’t think any of you twee idiots yelling about appalachia have ever even fucking lived in the woods. this is an “i will shoot you” sign and it’s not even subtle be fucking serious. jesus christ

#tacked up like THAT on the gate? oh u gon DIE walkin in there w no invitation #my pawpaw grew up in around the Appalachian area and he made damn sure i knew all the possible warning signs cross country #i think he lost a hunting dog that way🤔#but also i grew up queer & brown in a sundown town so 😐 ya learn real damn quick #purple marks means private property orange marks means construction or demolition

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ranticore · 11 days ago

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some thoughts about Clothes For Horses

out of practicality the average ironwall citizen wears a blanket made for horses (even if they are not horses). the blankets are bulk-ordered by specialist ironwall tailor shops and modified on the premises, sometimes while the customer is waiting. the modifications lengthen the straps so that they can be easily reached. this is considered okay for casualwear but tacky for formal occasions.

the upper body can usually just wear whatever mass produced human clothing they like. the only item of clothing which is made specifically for these guys is the waist sash (sometimes with an additional cloth drape on the front, which can smarten up an outfit). these are people whose culture has a deep seam of embarrassment at being part animal, and this fact should be hidden if at all possible even though it isn't possible but you just have to try. the junction between fur and skin is always hidden. the orange blanket pictured above is about as skimpy as you could get away with in public. mane hair is usually shaved off for practicality's sake.

for practical work where harnesses and tack are required, these are usually worn over blankets and modified to include no reins/other control apparatus. for those for whom it is possible, horse-shoes are worn on the front feet for daily city life, and on all feet for hard manual labour or any activities/hobbies/etc which require good traction on the hind legs. shoes are usually not made of metal but of a composite into which grip studs can be inserted if necessary. the imagery of hard metal shoes is associated with counterculture movements and sometimes if you wanna look hard you can have your shoes spraypainted to be shiny. barefoot is actually fine in most circumstances

dedicated centaur clothing is stupid expensive because very few manufacturers produce it and the fabric yardage is insane so it is a class signifier. the garment shape & purpose is unisex though due to influence from dominant human cultures in the area, there's still a difference between a Stallion's Manly Robes and a Demure Filly Dress. ideally the full body is covered and the overall impression is of a human strapped to some mysterious shape idk what could possibly be under there. normal human legs i bet.

#they got me doing furgonomics here #ironwall

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puckinghischier · 4 months ago

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Crowded

Luke Hughes x fem!reader

summary: reader gets nervous in the crowd, but luke is right there to help her out of it

notes: i’m once again throwing a luke fic out into the world. i saw this request in my inbox and immediately thought of the zach bryan concert the boys just went to. i would literally give anything to attend a concert with them. i just KNOW they’re great concert buddies. sorry it’s kinda short, i just didn’t know how to drag it out any longer. i hope you enjoy!! happy reading!! 🫶🏼

request: from my 400 follower celly - Character A can tell Character B is getting nervous in a big crowd, so A slips their hand into theirs to help them calm down.

[2.8k]

You had been looking forward to tonight for months. From the second Luke surprised you with the tickets for your birthday, you immediately started planning an outfit, making a playlist, and anticipating the trip.

When he told you his brothers and a few friends were tagging along, it only made you more excited, enjoying every moment you got to spend with your boyfriend’s brothers and their hockey friends.

After the concert, everyone was driving over to stay at the lake house for a few weeks, enjoying as much of the summer together as they can before pre-season training starts. You couldn’t wait to have a few weeks of fun on the water, but also wanted tonight to last as long as it could.

Your excitement grew even more when you found the perfect outfit for the occasion, even buying a matching light-up cowboy hat off of Etsy. You were especially excited for the chance to wear your boots again, not having many excuses to wear them in Jersey.

Luke had his hand planted firmly on the small of your back, making sure not to lose you as you weave through the crowd. You had bought Luke a new shirt for tonight, the orange t-shirt matching the burnt orange color of your dress.

He leads you over to the crowded merchandise stand, telling you to pick whatever you wanted. You struggled, loving every item tacked onto the display board. When you told him you couldn’t decided between a t-shirt and a hoodie, he bought you both before you could even open your mouth to protest, buying himself a hat and t-shirt as well.

“Luke, you just spent over $300 without even batting an eye,” you barked at him, crossing your arms to try and look menacing.

You know Luke could’ve afforded to buy you the entire stand and still not make a dent in his bank account, but you don’t like when he spends large amounts on you for no reason.

“Yeah, so?” he shrugs, taking your elbow and leading you away from the cloth covered table, slinging the clear bag of merchandise over his shoulder.

You roll your eyes and huff at him, unfolding your arms and taking his hand, letting him lead you through the sea of bodies.

“’So?’”, you mimicked his response. “You didn’t have to buy half of the merch stand just because it took me more than three seconds to choose which shirt I wanted.”

He glances back at you over his shoulder. “The fact that you didn’t have your mind made up the second you saw the options means you clearly wanted both, so I bought you both.”

You reach over and pinch his side, mildly annoyed with how well he understands the way your brain works.

“Quit pinching me you little gremlin,” Luke hisses out, the nickname being one he uses when you’re being stubborn or annoying.

“Quit spending all of your money on me, you giraffe-man,” you fire back.

You can see his shoulder’s shake, your impromptu nickname for him amusing him.

He doesn’t respond right away, the two of you having made it to the entrance to your seats, walking up to the worker standing under the numbered sign.

The usher instructs you to show your tickets to one of the workers at the bottom of the set of stairs.

When you walk into the arena, you notice how large the space feels, the open floor and mostly empty seats creating the illusion of size.

Luke has to nudge you a bit, reminding you to keep walking, too in awe of the fact you’re actually here.

“Not so unhappy with me spending my money on you now, huh?” he leans down to whisper into your ear, making sure you can hear him over the roaring chatter.

You hit him lightly in the chest, a smirk on his face as the two of you walk down, showing your tickets to the usher once you reach the bottom of the stairs, a bright colored wristband with bold letters spelling out VIP FLOOR printed on each one.

You make your way over to a small, sectioned off area near the main stage, seeing the rest of your group already waiting for the two of you.

Jack is the first one to notice you approaching, his eyes lighting up and arms being slung into the air.

“It’s about time! We were starting to worry the two of you got lost!” he calls out, causing the rest of the group to turn their heads and call out greetings.

You smile, having missed those in the group that didn’t live in New Jersey.

Walking over to Quinn first, you give him a long hug, the last time you saw him being when he played his brothers in Jersey months ago. The frequent facetime calls the two of you share not being enough to scratch your Quinn itch.

“Quinnifer! I missed you!” you squeal as you squeeze him as tight as you can.

You can feel his chuckle as he squeezes you back. “I missed you too, Munchkin” he leans back, ruffling your hair.

Although you see Jack nearly every day back home in Jersey, Quinn is the brother you’re closest to. You and Jack are literally two peas in a pod, but there’s something about Quinn that made you feel comfortable with him from the moment Luke introduced the two of you.

He’s like the big brother you never had, always calling him when you need advice or need to complain to someone about Luke.

Anytime you have a particularly nasty argument with Luke, Quinn is the one you call. He always allows you say whatever you need to get out of your system before breaking the problem down and agreeing that his brother is an idiot, but that he also loves you with everything he has in him.

At first you tried to go to Jack with problems surrounding your relationship with Luke, but he clearly didn’t know how to help you. He either told Luke about your conversations, causing the argument to grow worse because Luke claimed Jack had no business knowing about what’s happening in your relationship, or he would shrug his shoulders and say “just don’t yell at him when I’m trying to sleep. I need my beauty rest.”

You swat Quinn’s hand away, trying to smooth down your now tousled hair.

“I see you dressed the goon, tonight,” he points out Luke’s orange shirt.

You turn your head to see him talking with Cole.

“Believe it or not, it was his idea,” you think back to after you bought your dress, trying it on for Luke once you came home from shopping with your girls. He loved the way you looked in it, his eyes widening the second you emerged from your walk-in closet.

He swallowed thickly, his gravelly voice choking out a “Did they happen to have a matching shirt? Because if you’re wearing that, I’m going to need something to match so everyone knows you’re there with me, not up for grabs.”

You blush at the memory, looking back over to Quinn.

“I always knew he was whipped, but damn you’ve got him down bad, huh?” he shakes his head, smiling in amusement.

“Wrapped around my little finger,” you hold up your pinky, wiggling it at Quinn with a giggle.

You feel a pair of arms snake their way around your waist, a heavy object resting itself on top of your head.

“What’s wrapped around your little finger?” Luke asks, his chin bumping against your scalp as he talks.

“You, duh,” you reply, moving your head forward and craning your neck to look up at him.

He looks between you and his older brother before uttering out a “Oh one hundred percent. Couldn’t unravel myself if I even wanted to,” he lets go of you, stepping up to stand beside you.

Quinn just laughs, bringing Luke in for a hug.

After you make your way around to greet everyone, the lights are dimming and the atmosphere inside of the arena changes.

You love the hum of excitement in the air, finding Luke and standing in front of him. You hear the first notes of Overtime as Zach Bryan comes onto the stage, screaming as loud as you possibly can.

Luke has a content, amused smile on his face as you scream out the lyrics, jumping and dancing around as the beat allows.

As the concert goes on, you make the switch from dancing with Luke to dancing with Jack, attempt to get on Quinn’s shoulders to get Zach’s attention, and slinging your arm over Cole’s shoulder to sway back and forth with him during one of the slower songs.

When it comes time for Zach to sing Revival, your favorite song of his, you beg Luke to leave your secluded area to get closer to the stage, wanting to experience being in the crowd for this one particular song.

He looks at you apprehensively, eyeing the large sea of people on top of one another, barely any room between the bodies pressed together. He worries about losing you in the crowd, your small frame allowing you to get swept away easily.

You tug on his arm like a little kid, repeating “please, please, please,” over and over again, assuring him you’ll be fine.

Luke eventually gives in, letting his brothers know where you two are going, claiming you’ll meet back up with them after the concert.

Grabbing your hand, Luke leads you off of the small platform and into the crowd, pushing his way as far up to the front as his large body will allow him.

You stop just a row or two of people away from the stage where Zach had just climbed onto, adjusting his guitar and microphone before starting the song.

As the song rang out around you, you sang along to every word, joining the rowdy crowd as the chorus starts.

You start to jump around in the small space you have, enjoying every second, until Zach walks his way over to the small portion of stage in front of where you stand.

As soon as his figure stands over the crowd around you, bodies start pushing against one another, everyone trying to get as close to him as they can. You feel yourself being shifted towards the metal barricade, not being able to fight against the rush of people.

You start panicking, whipping your head from side to side to find Luke. All you can see around you are strangers, not being able to move your body to look behind you. You have absolutely no control over your own body anymore, being stuck in-between a girl slightly taller than you and a man that has at least a hundred pounds on you.

Squeaking out a “excuse me,” and “can you let me out please?” you try to make your exit from the suffocating situation. Your eyes turn frantic when you realize that no one can hear you or cares to hear you. Your breath picks up, heart pounding in your chest.

You can feel the tears pricking in your eyes, not being able to regulate your breathing anymore, gasping hot air into your lungs as fast as you can.

You’re about to let out a scream, begging someone to pay attention to you and let you out of the mess you’re in, when you feel a familiar hand slip its way into yours.

Whipping your head around, you catch a glimpse of curly hair behind you, not realizing that the body pressed against your back has been Luke this entire time. You figured you had lost him when you were surged forward, unable to see him anywhere around you.

Your breath starts to slow slightly, knowing you’re not alone in this crowd easing some of your nerves. The feeling of your heart pounding is still present, not wanting to be in this situation one second longer.

Luke attempts to tug your body back towards him, but the impenetrable wall of people around you prevents him from doing so.

You manage to wiggle your way in a circle somehow, now facing Luke.

He takes one look at your frightened face and knows he has to get you out of here, now.

Pulling you towards him, he cages you in with is arms, your cheek pressed to his chest. He starts walking backwards, his hockey roots coming in handy as he all but body checks people out of his way. The two of you finally make it to the back of the large crowd, Luke not letting go of you until you were back over in your original section.

Quinn was watching the whole thing from the small platform he was stood on, about to walk over and fish you out himself before he noticed Luke’s head slowly moving backwards, away from the stage.

He can see you’re still shaken, walking over to meet the two of you at the top of the ramp.

“Is she okay? Is she hurt?” Quinn asks, concerned about how frightened even Luke’s face looks right now.

“No, she’s fine. Just shaken up, I think. She got trapped between a random girl and some dude at least triple her size,” he tells Quinn, running his hand down your hair in soothing motions. Your hands were still clutching his t-shirt, not wanting to let go of him just yet.

Quinn stares at your trembling figure the whole time, knowing you don’t want to leave Luke’s embrace but wishing he could do something to help you.

“Let’s get her out of here and to the car, yeah?” Quinn suggests, picking up yours and Luke’s bag of merchandise off of the floor of the platform.

Luke just nods, leading you back down the ramp.

Quinn steps over and let’s everyone know to just meet them in the parking garage before following yours and Luke’s intertwined bodies towards the nearest exist.

Luke manages to get you up the stairs and out into the outer ring of the arena without letting you go. Both pairs of your feet moving in tandem, not once risking tripping over one another.

He leads you out of the doors and into the cool night air.

You finally allow yourself to leave his embrace, instantly feeling better in the openness of the outdoors. Never letting go of his hand, you continue to let him lead you to the large garage.

Luke’s BMW sits right where he parked it, the loud beep echoing in the dark garage as he unlocks it.

He opens the passenger door, lifting you slightly to sit you down on the leather seat. His hands come up to your cheeks, his thumbs wiping the stray hairs that were sticking to the damp skin under your eyes.

“All good now?” he asks you, the frantic look of your eyes now gone.

You nod, looking into his concerned eyes. “M’alright. Just got scared. Too many people,” you mumble out, leaning into Luke’s palm slightly. “Sorry I made us go out there. Just wanted to have fun.”

Luke leans his forehead against yours, shaking it back and forth slightly. “No, it’s not your fault. Just bad timing is all,” he assures you, knowing how upset you’re going to be when you realized you missed most of the last song.

He pulls his head back, standing back to his full height outside of the SUV.

You notice Quinn standing a few feet away, letting you and Luke have your space.

Frowning, you call out to the eldest Hughes. “You didn’t have to leave early too, Quinny.”

Quinn looks over when he hears you address him, walking closer to the vehicle.

“Ehh, show was almost over anyways,” he waves you off. “Had to make sure my favorite little munchkin was okay,” he shrugs, telling you its no big deal.

You smile at him, thankful you not only have your boyfriend to look out for you, but Quinn as well.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you. Both of you,” you look between the two brothers, only ever seeing how alike they look when they’re standing in front of you.

They both tell you it’s not necessary, the main priority being that you’re safe and sound outside of the arena.

“Fine, I guess that means neither of you want to stop for post-concert pancakes on the way to the lake, then?” you tease, watching both of their heads snap up. All three brothers’ secret love of sweets is something you use to your advantage, only ever having to mention how good ice creams sounds before Luke and Jack are ushering you out of the door and driving you to the nearest ice-cream shop.

“Well, I guess if you really just feel the need to do something nice for us…” Quinn trails off, making a smile break out on your face, unable to hide the laugh at the sudden switch up.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” you continue to laugh at the pair, Luke leaning in to buckle your seatbelt for you as Quinn climbs in the backseat, sending a quick text to the rest of your group, telling them if they want to join in on the pancake outing, they need to be making their way out of the arena, and fast.

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annwrites · 5 months ago

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⸻ one in the same. part one.

· pairing: otto hightower x bastardtargfem!reader · type: part of a series · summary: after aemma's funeral, you wish to go to the sept to grieve alone, but otto offers to come with you. &, for once, you actually wish for his company—or, rather, just the simple company of another. · tw: misogyny, religion · word count: 2,322

"I wish to offer you my condolences, My Lady."

You tighten the clasp of your hands around one another, digging your nails into your tender skin. You stare over his shoulder, refusing to meet his eyes. "Thank you, Ser Otto. For your kind words."

You make to turn, to go somewhere else—anywhere else—until he, too, turns to begin walking alongside you. You roll your eyes upward, merely glancing at the large expanse of clear blue sky above you momentarily, before looking forward once more.

He gently takes your elbow in his grip, then, and you clench your jaw at him touching you so forwardly.

He looks down at you, while you look to the side. "My Lady, if there is something I can do—anything—so as to...ease your pain, as she was your mother, too—"

You swallow down the lump in your throat, shocked to hear him say such things—even more-so that he's speaking properly to you in general. "Forgive me, Ser Otto, but I wish to go to the Sept," you glance up to him, ready to tack on 'alone', but your chin suddenly wobbles, eyes growing glassy, and a small sob escapes your lips.

You quickly reach up, cupping your hand over your mouth, trying to swallow it down—telling yourself: not here, not in front of him—but it's too late. The waves take you under as the tears continue to fall—slipping down your cheeks—your shallow breaths causing your chest to heave as your sorrow escapes you.

"Oh, My Lady," he says softly, not even hesitating as he takes you in his arms, pulling you against his chest.

You have half-a-mind to shove him away, ask him how dare he touch you without permission, but you instead remain quiet, unable to do naught else but cry and grieve and drown in your tears.

You bury your face in his chest, which smells of mint and parchment and rain, fisting the material of his cloak in your small fists—trying desperately to quiet yourself—but when you feel his gloved hand cup the back of your head, the comforting gesture only serves to make you weep harder.

Eventually, you begin to quiet, feeling so tired now. Not that you hadn't already felt weary—you'd not slept the night before; had hardly slept since her passing in general, especially with knowing the gruesome circumstances of it.

Whenever you imagined her lying there at the maester's mercy—your father's mercy—being cut open as she cried and bled out...it always brought you to tears. Made you feel sick.

You pull away from him, quickly wiping your cheeks, trying to gather yourself—even if you feel wholly unraveled now—as you stand straight, smoothing your skirts before clasping your hands in front of you once more. "Forgive me," you start again, but he interrupts you.

"May I accompany you, My Lady?"

You look up to him. He wants to come with you? In what lifetime would he ever willingly ask to spend time with you—be near you by his own want; accord?

"Unless, of course," he continues. "You wish to be alone."

You shake your head, too tired to keep up this game of pushing him away at every turn out of spite. For today, you can allow his company at your side. Not because it is his company that you desire, specifically. Rather, that it is someone's. Anyone's. Even if he sits silently beside you, it will be enough.

"No. I do not wish for that."

He nods once, then gestures toward your waiting litter.

While you kneel before rows of burning candles that cast a soft orange glow upon your face, Otto seats himself upon the surface where it is clear of wax and flames, knowing kneeling would be a foolish thing to even attempt with his old knees.

He looks down to you and you merely stare at the dripping wax before you, not bothering to fold your hands, or close your eyes, or speak to Gods that do not listen. Not that you believe them to exist in the first place.

You then glance up to him, wondering if he does.

"Would you like for me to step away, to give you a moment of privacy as you pray, My Lady?"

You consider him for a moment, then shake your head. "I did not come here to pray."

He turns more toward you.

"I came here to grieve in silence. Away from watchful eyes. I..."

You consider telling him the truth, then. One you've kept hidden—locked away inside of you, out of fear of punishment or judgement—for years, since the death of your birth mother. For him to be the one person you tell it to...

At one time, sharing such a hard-to-speak truth with him, of all people, would've been unimaginable. Today, you find you care very little for what he may think. What anyone may. About anything.

Your faith, or lack thereof, is not what matters. Not right now.

"Go on," he encourages gently, wondering what truths lay hidden inside of you.

Ever an enigma to him as you've grown older. Into a woman, that is.

It would be a falsehood for him to claim that he's never had you followed—watched—or spied on.

He'd done it, at first, primarily as a safety measure. Not for you, but, rather, for the King—House Targaryen, which you had become a legitimate part of at such a young age, despite his protests otherwise, which had fallen upon deaf ears.

He'd been most-certain, for such a long while, that you would grow into a duplicate of your mother: a wanton whore after gold, even if Viserys had claimed she had been good to him; kind.

Otto knew the ways of such women, however. Knew the follies of men when it came to falling into their arms—their beds.

And, in time, she had given him a daughter—her birthplace being that of a brothel upon the Street of Silk. The King, fearing he would never have another child, as Aemma had repeatedly miscarried heir after heir, had legitimized you at the age of five. Not quite a year later, however, Aemma had become pregnant with the young Princess Rhaenyra, but the title could then not be rescinded. Not that Viserys would've had it any other way.

Viserys had doted on you, and then Aemma as well, after your mother's passing.

He'd not understood it himself: the affections they held toward you, but it was not his place to question it. It was his place, however, to keep a watchful eye over you, ensuring that you kept yourself in-line. Exhibited appropriate behavior, befitting that of a young, titled lady of a great house.

And, much to his surprise, you had and did. You were dutiful in your lessons: reading, writing, and historical studies. Singing, dancing, playing the bells and the harp. Painting, drawing, sewing, dress and jewelry-making. The list went on and on.

Your septa had shaped you well, and you had grown into an excellent example of what a young lady should be. Often-times, even more well-behaved than that of the Princess herself.

He'd always anticipated a slip-up, though; some dangerous or careless decision made by you, which would bring shame upon your house. Instead, however, you were rather the introvert. No late-night escapades into the city, or untoward interactions with young knights or lords for you.

You merely kept company with yourself, and occasionally your half-sister, your step-mother, and your father. He had made clear, very early-on with Alicent, though, that she was to stay away from you. And she had, thankfully—for the most part, at least—honored such demands.

Now, he wonders, if you would not have been a better companion to his daughter than the rebellious Rhaenyra.

You sigh. "I do not...believe in them. After my mother died..." You grow quiet, taking calming breaths, not wishing to cry yet again. "I was angry with them. For a very long while. And then I began to tell myself that I did not believe at all. It was only out of resentment initially. But, somewhere along the way, it became true: my loss of faith. I do not believe that, even if I tried, I could ever get it back. I don't think I would want to."

You look up to him, fearful that he will tell your father. That you will be punished for this most unspeakable truth. You are meant to worship the same Gods as your king. At the very least, a God. Whether Old or New, the Drowned, or the Merling King. Something. Anything.

He considers what you've said for a moment, his eyes trailing along the statues of the Seven, which surround the both of you, before meeting your gaze once again. "You and I, it seems, are one in the same, in more than just loyalty to your house."

Your brows furrow.

He leans down toward you, forearms resting atop his thighs. "My late Lady wife, and my daughter, were and are devout believers. I, myself, however, cannot say the same, I'm afraid."

You blink up at him. "You...you do not believe in the Gods?"

His eyes stare into your own. "No. Not for some time now."

You rise then, seating yourself beside him, looking upon the statue of the Mother. "I don't even remember what she looked like anymore."

He knows it is your birth mother that you refer to.

You decide to change the subject—not wishing to hear him speak ill of her—knowing his feelings toward the woman you came from.

"Why join me?"

He turns his head to look at you. "My Lady?"

You shake your head slightly. "You've always held me in contempt. Even as a little girl; an innocent child. Even then I earned your ire." Your eyes meet his own. "I used to fear you, you know."

His jaw feathers.

"I could never understand what it was that I had done wrong. To deserve such treatment. Leering glares and being chastised for...for just...having fun."

You look away, tears stinging your eyes. "I tried once to mend between us whatever I had broken at the tender age of eight-years-old. Do you remember?" You look to him again.

He remains silent, waiting for explanation.

"I made you a doll. It looked like you. I thought..." You look down to your hands in your lap, remembering its small tunic that you'd perfectly embroidered the Hightower heraldry upon in emerald green thread, hoping it would please him.

"I later found it discarded in the hall. That was the same day I grew to hate you in return. The day I decided that I did not need your approval any longer." You swallow. "I had sought it for so long, for whatever God's-forsaken reason. Someone who never deserved it in the first place."

He clears his throat. "My Lady—"

"Why? Explain it to me." You state, tone demanding.

He sighs. "I had...disagreed with your father—the King's—decision to legitimize you. I disapproved of the circumstances of your birth, most certainly. I'd always anticipated less than comely behavior from you. I'm afraid I resented you simply on principle."

He rests his hand atop yours. "I see now...that it was a mistake. Of all days, this is the one where you most deserve an apology. And I do apologize, My Lady. Truly."

He removes his hand then, leaving your own cold.

You blink back tears. "Thank you."

He was one man in all the realm who seemed least like to ever admit fault—to you of all people. An apology uttered from his lips for only your ears to hear in private...it leaves you without words, unsure of how to further reply.

"What came of it?" He asks.

You look to him, brows knitted together. "Hm?"

"The doll," he says, lip twitching.

You grin, smoothing the skirt of your dress. "I threw it into the hearth in my room. I had hoped you would feel it, perhaps." Your cheeks warm.

"Ah, so that was where the burning had come from all that time ago. Quite an uncomfortable night, as I recall. My chambers far too warm to find sleep."

You laugh quietly, as does he. You're surprised he knows how to do such things: jest and smile. He always seem so incredibly serious at all times. Like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders. Though, you suppose, in some ways, he does. At the very least, the Realm.

He speaks again. "Do you forgive me?"

"Do you truly care whether I do?"

He shrugs. "I suppose it is little late now for me to ask for such things. So, let me instead make you a proposal."

He stands and you lean your neck back, staring up at him.

He holds out his bare hand to you, his gloves now tucked away into his pockets. "Let us start anew. You are a lady now grown. We may, if you are agreeable, begin again. As a repentant man, and, if I am fortunate: a clement woman."

You take a moment to look at his large hand, his outstretched palm, and you consider.

He has shown you a different side of himself today, for reasons you are unsure of. Perhaps it is out of kindness—sympathy—for your loss. Perhaps it is to get in your good graces, now that you truly are a lady, and at times have your father's ear. Perhaps it originates from something else entirely.

Perhaps...you will have to accept his offer to find out his motives, if he indeed has any. As Hand of the King, you imagine he must. Even if he does seem sincere.

You slide your delicate hand into his own, standing before him. "To starting anew," you say softly.

#fic: hotd (otto hightower x reader)#otto hightower x reader #otto hightower x you #otto hightower x y/n #hotd x reader #hotd x you #hotd x y/n #otto hightower imagine #hotd imagine

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wrestlezon · 9 months ago

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the fact chuck gave him a valentines day gift full of tacks... wahhhh how sweet. chuck loves thumbtacks

anyway remember how orange won against chuck in this 2019 gcw match

awesome

#postzon #orange cassidy #chuck taylor #iirc chuck thinks tack spots are hilarious. so #im sorry about my 320p gifs i was in a race against time

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kwanisms · 1 month ago

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Kinktober 「10:08」 — txt choi line

» txt menu | bg menu | yj menu | sb menu | kinktober masterlist «

➮ kumiho!Beomgyu × fem!Reader (feat. kumiho!Yeonjun & kumiho! Soobin) wc: 8.3k summary: When Y/N’s best friends Yeonjun and Soobin dared her to explore an old mine shaft on the edge of town, she never expected to find anything but rock so when she stumbles across an extremely gorgeous man with bright orange glowing eyes, to say she was shocked was an understatement. genres/themes/au: angst/fluff/smut; supernatural, horror, thriller; non idol au, monster idol au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, mention of alcohol consumption, supernatural and horror themes, mentions of: parental death, thoughts of suicide and depression, mental illness struggles; sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut! taglist has been moved to reblogs join my taglists! kinktober taglist is closed! Strikethrough means I cannot tag you. MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL ALSO BE BLOCKED.

a/n: we’re back baybee!!!! Sorry for skipping days 5-7 but they will be tacked on at the end, don’t worry! I don’t have much to say about this other than if you don’t like dubcon or CNC, do not read this. I’ve given you all the warnings so it’s up to you to monitor your content consumption. That being said, there’s not much else to say other than thank you for reading and as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: teratophilia (aka monsterfucking), dacryphilia, CNC (if this makes you uncomfortable, DO NOT READ), unprotected sex (use condoms pls), fingering (f receiving), oral (f receiving), biting (f receiving), foursome (in a way. Just… you’ll see lol), use of pet names (doll, darling, sweetheart, etc.) that should be everything? Let me know if I missed some. kinks: Dacryphilia + CNC dialogue prompt: ❛❛ I love it when you cry. ❜❜ + ❛❛ What do you mean you’ve never cum from sex? ❜❜ + ❛❛ Your panties are soaked already. ❜❜

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“You are so full of shit,” you laughed, pushing Yeonjun's shoulder. The tall dark-haired man looked at you in shock before turning to the blond male next to him who seemed silly uninterested in the conversation at hand.

“Soob,” he whined, sounding like a child tattling to his parents, despite being the older of the two. “She's being mean!” He glowered in your direction as Soobin, who had been twisting pieces of grass together with no goal in mind, sighed heavily. “You’re being annoying,” Soobin said softly, not even looking up.

“Will you please tell her it’s true though?!” Yeonjun said, nudging Soobin’s knee. The younger man looked down at his black pants, noticing a few specks of dirt on the material. “Yah,” he said in a low tone as he brushed them away. “Don’t touch me with your dirty feet.”

Yeonjun groaned, dramatically, throwing himself back on the grass and hitting his head with a dull thud which sounded like it hurt. Your suspicions were later confirmed when he let out a groan, lifting his head to rub the back of it. “Ow,” he murmured.

You rolled your eyes, looking at Soobin who exchanged looks with you.

You had learned pretty quickly that Yeonjun was often dramatic for effect and that Soobin didn’t fall victim to it which in turn made you not fall for his act. “What are you doing?” Yeonjun asked, looking at Soobin’s hands. The blond looked up at him with an uninterested look on his face.He glanced down at the blades of grass in his hands, twisted together like some early stage rope.

“Nothing,” Soobin said, tossing the grass in Yeonjun’s direction. The older man clicked his tongue as one of the blades fluttered through the air and landed on his leg. “Don’t put your grass on me,” he said in a gruff voice as he brushed it away. Soobin wordlessly reached out, grabbing a handful of grass and ripped it up from the ground before throwing it at Yeonjun.

It rained down on him like green confetti. “YAH!” Yeonjun said, sitting up quickly. You picked up a clump of dirt and flicked it at him. “Calm down,” you said in a monotonous voice. Yeonjun glared at you before settling back on his elbows. “He’s rubbing off on you too much,” he said, nodding pointedly at Soobin.

You had met the two a few years back. They were what the residents of your town called ‘drifters.’ They moved from town to town, never staying too long. Nomadic was another word you heard thrown around. Except for the fact that Yeonjun and Soobin had been living in your small mountain town for nearly three years now.

They hadn’t been able to find an apartment since your town had one apartment building and land was too expensive so they lived in the only motel in the town, sharing one room with two beds. The motel was old, outdated, and didn’t see a lot of visitors. Only the occasional drifters.

The town itself was an old mining town and from the mid 1800’s to the beginning of the twentieth century, it was a prosperous town. But just after the start of the Great War, it fell onto hard times when all the able bodied men were pulled and made to serve. When they returned at the conclusion of the war, the town had been reduced to nothing more than a shell of its former self.

You were born and raised there. It was all you knew. You had been one of the fortunate ones to leave upon graduating high school and attending college in the next town over, gaining new experiences and meeting new people. Afterwards, you landed a job in the city and moved much further away from home.

After a couple years, you returned to your hometown when your mother got sick and your father was unable to work and take care of her. Thankfully, you were able to find work in the next town over which was only an hour commute in the morning and the evening. You moved back into your childhood home, updating your old bedroom.

Just before you met, Yeonjun and Soobin, your mother’s health had taken a turn for the worse and she ended up being hospitalized and passed away. You had every intention of moving back to the city and trying to get your old job back but you found yourself unable to leave your father like that.

It was just you and your father for a while and then one night when returning home from work, you found your father unconscious on the kitchen floor. Paramedics arrived and pronounced him dead at the scene. In less than two years, you lost both your parents.

You inherited the house but you spiraled into a deep depression. Your boss and co-workers were understanding, giving you time to grieve and even allowing you to work from home as your depression worsened. It was hard to even pull yourself out of bed and oftentimes, you thought about driving out to the old quarry and ending it all.

During one of these visits that you ultimately chickened out of, you found yourself at the twenty-four hour diner in town. You walked in, taking a seat at the bar and ordering a single mug of coffee. As you sat there, behind you, in the back corner booth sat two men who were clearly annoying one another but when you looked, you could tell they were quite possibly the best of friends.

You knew you’d never seen them before and when they noticed you noticing them, it was like a lightbulb went off and an instant connection was formed. They moved from the booth to take a seat on either side of you. One of them, Yeonjun, noticed how you looked like hell. The other, Soobin, told him to knock it off and asked you the most mundane of questions.

“Are you okay?”

His inquiry made you break down in the middle of the diner and it was then they forced you to sit at the booth with them and you poured your entire soul out onto the table over ice cream, pie, and coffee until at least four in the morning. That night, your life was forever changed by these two and the three of you became as thick as thieves… whatever that meant. You always heard people say that but never knew what it actually meant.

“Earth to Y/N,” Yeonjun’s voice broke through, knocking you out of whatever trance you had been in. You looked at him staring at you with a dumbfounded look. “What the hell is your problem?” he asked, hissing in pain when Soobin pinched his ankle. “Stop being such a dick,” Soobin said softly, brows furrowing as he glared at Yeonjun.

“Sorry,” you said softly. “I was just disassociating.” Yeonjun narrowed his eyes. “You’re not thinking about jumping into the old quarry again, are you?” he asked, earning a slap from Yeonjun. “What?!” Yeonjun yelped, holding his arm where Soobin’s hand had made contact.

You simply laughed, drawing their attention. Yeonjun looked alarmed but Soobin’s expression softened. “I’m fine, guys,” you said, waving your hand and dismissing their concern. “I was just staring off into the void.” Yeonjun snorted. “Did it stare back?” he asked. You shook your head.

“No,” you answered. “She was polite and didn’t make eye contact.”

Yeonjun nodded before clearing his throat. “Anyway,” he said loudly. “I was trying to tell you Soobin and I know it sounds ridiculous,” he added. “But there really is something that lives in the mines.” You glanced at the taller of the two who rolled his eyes. “Rats,” he said softly. “Rats live in the mines, Jjun,” he countered. Yeonjun glared at him. There was a look there, an understanding that happened in a split second that you didn’t seem to pick up on.

“Oh, you’re talking about that,” Soobin said suddenly, making you look up, snapping your attention to him. “What?” you asked, glancing between the two. “What is he talking about? What’s that?” you asked. Yeonjun smiled slowly, turning his attention to you. “Some say it’s a monster,” he said nonchalantly. “Others say it’s a man.”

It was your turn to roll your eyes. “You’ve lived in this town for what? Three years?” you asked, raising a brow at him. “What would you know of our folklore?” Yeonjun pretended to look offended. “Your tiny town is famous all over the mountain,” Yeonjun said, pausing for dramatic effect. “And besides,” he continued. “Don’t you know all these mines connect to one another via the natural cave system?”

You perked up at that. “Wait,” you said softly, turning to look at Soobin. “Is that true?”

The blond man sighed, glaring at Yeonjun before turning to look at you. “Yes,” he said softly. “The mines are all connected, theoretically,” he said, emphasizing the last word and looking at Yeonjun as if to make a point. “No one has entered one mine and exited another from a different system.” You relaxed back into the grass. “That’d be pretty cool if they did,” you said softly.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you enjoyed the light breeze of early autumn.

“Why don’t we check it out?”

Your eyes snapped open and you lifted your head to look at Yeonjun. “Are you nuts?” you asked. “When did you become a spelunker?” Yeonjun snorted as he pulled himself up, crossing his legs as he sat on his backside. “I’ve always been interested in caves,” he pointed out. “And the mines.”

You sat up too, completing the trifecta of you sitting in the shape of a triangle, facing an invisible center between you. “What’s so interesting about the mines?” you asked. “They’re always a hotbed of activity,” Yeonjun replied. “People died down there,” he continued. “They’re probably, like, hella haunted.”

Yeonjun let out another yelp as he received a second slap from Soobin. “You’re right,” the younger male started. “People died down there.” Yeonjun rolled his eyes. “Not anyone we know,” he retorted. Soobin threw a look in your direction. You waved your hand. “My family were all white collar workers,” you said quickly. “My parents moved here when mom was pregnant with me. None of my relatives died down there.”

“Come on!” Yeonjun said excitedly. “Let’s explore it!” Soobin looked at you hesitantly. “I don’t know…” he trailed off. He looked extremely apprehensive. Like he was worried about you. “It’s fine,” you said, reaching out to take his hand. “I’ll be fine, Binnie,” you continued. “I’m a big girl. And besides. I wanna see the mines!” Soobin moved his hand, lacing his fingers with yours.

“You’re absolutely sure?” he asked. You nodded, smiling widely at him. “Yes,” you answered. “It sounds like a lot of fun!” Yeonjun smiled triumphantly, looking at Soobin with a smug look. “See?” he said softly. “I told you she’d be down!” You were almost bouncing where you sat on the hard ground, the sun setting behind and casting a golden glow over everything.

“Fine,” Soobin said, a soft wind picking up around the three of you, the leaves on the trees rustling slightly. The orangish glow hit both Soobin and Yeonjun and made them look almost… ethereal and you could have sworn you saw their eyes flash for the briefest moment to match the orangey- gold color of the setting sun.

“Let’s do it tomorrow.”

The next day, you packed some clothes, tight fitting and warm for the trip down into the caves. You might have to spend extra time down there and seeing as you’d never been, you didn’t know how big the system was. Yeonjun and Soobin said they would handle all the gear you needed and meet you at the old mine entrance.

As the sun was on the rise, you reached the meeting spot and found Yeonjun and Soobin waiting for you, each supporting a decent sized pack on their backs. “You weren’t kidding,” you said softly with a chuckle as you drew level. “You really went wild on the gear.”

Yeonjun shrugged. “I told you, I’m interested in caves. I’ve investigated a fair share of them.” You turned to Soobin for confirmation and when he nodded, you felt much more at ease. “What about you?” you asked, looking up at Soobin. “I’ve been in a few,” he answered. “Enough to know what to do.”

“We should get going,” Yeonjun said suddenly. “We don’t know how long this is going to take and the sun is rising.” You followed his gaze up to the sky that was slowly lightening up to a periwinkle as the sun slowly rose above the horizon. It hadn’t yet broken over the mountains but it was getting there.

“Lead the way,” you said, glancing between the two, wondering who was going to take the lead and not surprised in the slightest when Yeonjun turned and headed for the entrance. You followed, with Soobin in tow and bringing up the rear.

The entrance was mostly unobstructed with only a few planks of wood in place. It was very dark beyond where the low level of light could reach. Yeonjun reached into a hip pouch, producing two flashlights. He handed one to you and clicked his on, shining the light into the void.

“It looks pretty clear,” he said as he moved around the light. For such a small flashlight, it was certainly powerful. “Come on,” he added, starting into the mouth of the mine. It wasn’t as large or as grand as you were picturing and upon entering, it immediately started to dip down a mild incline.

The walk down was long, rocky, and for the most part, relatively easy to hike. Yeonjun stayed in the front and Soobin in the back, making sure to keep you in the middle. It made you feel much safer. The ground started to even out after a while and soon you reached a junction. It dawned on you that none of you had been down here and you were suddenly worried about getting lost.

“Wait,” you said as Yeonjun started for the left fork. “What if we lose our way?” you asked. Yeonjun glanced at Soobin. “She has a point,” Soobin agreed. “We should at the very least mark our path so we can follow it out.” Yeonjun nodded and looked around. “Oh,” he said. “This should work.”

You watched as he knelt down, removing his pack and unzipping one of the pockets, starting to sift through it. He pulled out what looked suspiciously like a chisel which was confirmed by the next words out of Soobin’s mouth. “Why the fuck do you have a chisel?”

Yeonjun’s smile fell and he frowned at the taller man. “Shut the fuck up,” he snapped back, zipping his pack back up and getting to his feet, pulling the bag back on. “If you’ve got something better, I’m all ears,” he added as he walked towards the entrance of the leftmost cave.

You glanced back at Soobin who shook his head with an exasperated sigh and then nodded, gesturing for you to follow. You started forward, shining your light around. As the beam passed over the entrance to the right, you could have sworn you saw something glowing, almost like a pair of eyes.

You stopped abruptly, staring wide-eyed at the tunnel, shining your light back over the entrance. Soobin ran into you from behind and made you drop your light. “Oh shit,” he grumbled, quickly bending down to snatch it from the dirt and hand it to you. “Why’d you stop?” he asked softly.

You glanced up at him. “I thought I saw something,” you said, returning your gaze to the right cave. Soobin followed your gaze. “It was probably your eyes,” he said softly. “The dark likes to play tricks on you.” You felt his hand take yours and he started forward. “Come on,” he urged gently.

“We’ll lose Yeonjun if we don’t keep up.”

The rest of the way into the mines, Soobin held you hand and while it did make you feel better, you couldn’t shake the feeling you were being watched. As you descended further and further, you started to see more and more signs that something had indeed made the caves its home.

Carcasses of various small prey animals were scattered about, mostly just bone left behind. You reached a large chamber where the ceiling was full of stalactites and bats roosted in between them, clinging to the rock as they rested.

“Oh wow,” you said softly as you heard the sound of water and shined your light into the far end of the chamber to find a small pool and a waterfall. It wasn’t a particularly large or powerful cascade but it meant that it led from somewhere.

You rested briefly with the guys, munching on fruit snacks and protein bars. Once you were ready to go, you started for the only exit you could see. You stopped by the water, kneeling down to dip your fingers into it. “It’s freezing!” you said, your voice laced with excitement. Soobin smiled as he watched you while Yeonjun inspected the exit.

“Come on,” he said softly. “It’s this way.”

You glanced up, finding his choice of words a little odd. “It’s?” you asked as Soobin held a hand out for you to take. You accepted, placing your hand in his and letting him pull you to your feet. “Poor choice of words,” he said simply. “He probably meant the other mine,” he added. You nodded and allowed Soobin to walk forward. Before you could take another step, you heard the sound of scraping and froze.

You quickly turned your head away from where Soobin was heading for the large opening and shined your flashlight around the chamber. You couldn’t see anything but you heard another scraping sound and instead of ignoring it and following your friends, you turned and started back into the chamber.

Besides the stalactites and stalagmites forming, there were also a good amount of stalagnates and other rock formations in the cave. You walked slowly, carefully shining your light around as you investigated the source of the noise. You reached an empty wall and sighed. ‘Nothing.’

You turned back around and let out a gasp. Before you stood a man you’d never seen before.

You looked over him, expecting him to be injured in some way but he looked unharmed. He was tall, maybe about as tall as Yeonjun. He had short black hair similar to Yeonjun’s but styled slightly different. His eyes were a goldish orange and seemed to almost glow in the darkness of the cave.

“Uh,” you said softly, looking around him nervously to see if Soobin was still standing at the exit of the chamber where Yeonjun disappeared earlier. “Hi,” you greeted the man. He simply tilted his head, staring at you with a look of curiosity. “Who are you?” the man asked in a surprisingly clear voice.

His question left you baffled. Instead of asking for help or anything one might expect of encountering a stranger in a cave system, he asked you a question as if you’d just intruded into his home.

Yeonjun’s words came to mind. ‘Others say it’s a man.’

You stared at the man before you with the glowing golden-orange eyes. “Who are you?” you countered, catching him by surprise but it only lasted for a moment before a smile settled onto his face. Not an unsettling one but certainly not one you were expecting to see.

“I’m Beomgyu,” he said simply. “I’m a kumiho.”

Your eyes widened in shock as you stared at him. ‘He was right,’ you thought. “Holy shit,” you breathed. Yeonjun was right. A creature did live in these caves and it was right in front of you while your friends were nowhere to be seen. ‘Fuck.’

“Are you all alone down here?” he asked, drawing you from your thoughts. ‘Wh-what?’ You stared in shock at him for a moment before answering. “N-no,” you lied. His smile slowly dropped. “Now,” he said softly before tsking. “Don’t lie to me.” You felt a chill up your spine as he spoke, taking a step closer.

“Okay!” you said, backing up. “I’m not alone! My friends are here. They went that way —” you started but he cut you off. “Went off and left you all alone?” he asked. “Left you all defenseless,” he added, taking another step forward.” Poor little bird.”

Each step was punctuated with a step until he had you backed against the wall of the cave and caged in between his arms. “Some friends they are,” he whispered, leaning in to whisper in your ear. “Left you all alone down here with a monster.”

Goosebumps erupted over your skin as you felt one of his hands slide down your arm to your waist.

“And what an absolutely delicious morsel you are.”

You let out a whimper, holding back tears but Beomgyu simply chuckled and backed away slightly. “I’m only teasing,” he said softly, reaching up to caressing your cheek before taking your chin in between his thumb and index finger. “I’m not going to eat you,” he started. “Yet,” he added with a wink.

“I’m inclined to let you go in fact,” he continued. Your heart jumped at the mention of being set free. “But you first must do something for me.” The small glimmer of hope faded away quickly as you stared at Beomgyu. “You must play a game of riddles with me.”

Your eyes looked around the cave before settling back on him. “Riddles?” you asked incredulously. He nodded. “Yes. Riddles. If you get three out of five riddles correct, I will let you go but if you get three out of five wrong…” he trailed off, licking his lips as his golden-orange eyes scanned over your frame.

Your cheeks burned and you awkwardly shuffled your feet, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Okay,” you replied meekly. “It’s not like I have much of a choice anyway.” Beomgyu smiled, showing his pointed canines. Much sharper than was considered normal for a human.

“No,” he answered. “You don’t.”

You straightened up, crossing your arms over your chest. “Well,” you said softly. “Get on with it.”

Beomgyu’s eyes narrowed but instead of remarking, he cleared his throat to deliver the first of five riddles.

“I am the beginning of the end, and the end of time and space. I am essential to creation, and I surround every place. What am I?”

You stared at him as his words sank in. ‘The beginning of the end, and the end of time and space.’

“Beginning of the end,” you whispered to yourself as you mulled over the words again. “Take your time,” Beomgyu said softly. “We have all day and night.” You glanced at him as you continued to think.

“Essential to creation and surround every place?”

“Beginning of the end, and the end of time and space…”

“Oh!” you said suddenly, snapping your fingers. “The letter e!”

Beomgyu’s smile returned and he nodded. “Good,” he answered. “Here’s your second riddle,” he said, moving to lean against one of the stalagnates, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Ripped from my mother’s womb, Beaten and burned, I become a bloodthirsty killer. What am I?”

You stared at him in mild horror. “Ripped from my mother’s womb?” you asked incredulously. He nodded, smiling at you as you started to look around, turning the words around in your head. ‘Bloodthirsty killer?’ you wondered. The gears were turning in your head but you were coming up blank.

After a few minutes of silence, you finally relented, hoping the other three riddles wouldn’t be this hard.

“I…” you cleared your throat. “I don’t know.”

Beomgyu’s smile turned into a smirk. “I was hoping you might get it, considering our location,” he said with a tone of mocking sympathy. “The answer is iron ore.” You stared at him, suddenly feeling very foolish. You were standing in a mine and you missed the riddle about mines.

“That’s one to one,” Beomgyu said. “You have three chances left.” You nodded and motioned for him to give you the next one.

“Lighter than what I am made of, More of me is hidden Than is seen. What am I?”

The answer came to mind immediately.

“An iceberg,” you fired back. Beomgyu’s brow furrowed. “Have you heard that one before?” he asked. You shook your head. “No,” you answered truthfully. “I’m just obsessed with the sinking of the Titanic,” you continued. “I know Icebergs are much larger under the water than above it.”

Beomgyu studied your face for a moment before relenting. “Fine,” he said. “Two to one. Next riddle.”

He gave you another which you got wrong making it two to two. You’d lost track of time and it felt like hours since you last saw Soobin or Yeonjun. Beomgyu was now standing right in front of you, leaning against the wall as he caged your body in, your back pressed against the rock. “What happens if I lose?” you asked softly. His eyes traveled down your body back back up.

“I get to keep you.”

‘Keep me?’ you wondered silently. “What does that mean?” His smile grew slightly. “It means you stay down here for me for as long as I want.” You swallowed the lump in your throat as he got even closer, lips inches from your ear. “Ready?” he whispered. You nodded wordlessly, silently praying to whatever that he would give you one you could figure out.

“I build up castles. I tear down mountains. I make some men blind, I help others to see. What am I?”

Your heart sank as you slowly realized this one was going to be hard to solve and your assumption was proven right as you spent an embarrassing amount of time trying to figure it out.

“Do you give up?” Beomgyu asked, tilting his head. He’d been more than generous, allowing you two guesses but you were on your third and you were coming up blank. You didn’t want to stay down here in the caves with him for however long he decided. It could be days, it could be years, it could be forever. Surely, your friends would come looking for you, right?

They wouldn’t leave you here, right?

You hung your head in defeat, the sound of Beomgyu’s chuckles sending yet another chill up your spine. “Poor little bird,” he cooed, placing a finger under your chin and lifting your head. “Bound to spend eternity here in the caves with me.”

Your eyes widened. “E-eternity?!” you gasped. Beomgyu chuckled, grabbing your wrist. “As long as I want, remember princess?” he asked. “You’re stuck with me now.”

He pulled you along the cave, stopping at the pool of water. He turned to you, grabbing the straps of your bag and pushing them off you. “Leave that here,” he said softly. “You won’t need it.”

You tried to protest but Beomgyu grabbed your hand, surprisingly delicately and stepped back into the pool onto a rock jutting out from the side of the pool. “Come,” he said in a commanding tone. You hesitated for only a moment before your body reacted, following him into the pool. The water was freezing. Bumps erupted across your skin, your nipples hardening in your bra as the chill of the water set into your body.

Beomgyu pulled you to the edge of the rock and stood behind you. “Deep breath in,” he said softly into your ear, hands moving to your arms, just under your shoulders. You inhaled slowly as you stared at the water, trying not to panic. “I hope you can swim.”

Beomgyu pushed you off the rock into the water. Your body splashed loudly and immediately, you kicked towards the surface, sputtering as you surfaced. You shook the water from your face and looked around the dark cave, illuminated by the flashlight you left by your pack.

You saw no sign of Beomgyu. You started to swim back to the side and almost reached the edge when you felt something grab your ankle and drag you down. You kicked and fought against the entity but soon lost the battle, losing consciousness in the process.

When you came to, you were laying on something soft. Your eyes slowly blinked open, light invading your senses as you tried to wake up. Your limbs were heavy and it was hard to move. Your eyes took a long time to focus but finally, they did.

You looked around, taking in your surroundings.

You seemed to be laying on a bed of what looked like furs. There were various colors but they were all extremely soft. You thought back to the scattered animal bones that you saw in the cave and now you knew who the culprit was. As you tried to sit up, you realized your clothes had been removed and you were covered with a brown blanket. You brought your arm up, holding the blanket against your chest.

“What the?” you whispered as you looked around further. You raised your eyes and noticed a massive hole in the ceiling of the cave you were in. Light was filtering in, bathing you in a bright glow. Your ears picked up a scraping sound and you looked down, eyes trying to see beyond the sunlit area but it was no use. You couldn’t pick up anything.

“I see you’re awake,” a voice said softly from beside you. Turning your head, you tried to see past the circle of light, squinting but you were still unable to make anything out. Another scraping sound rang out from the other side and your head snapped in that direction.

“Did you take my clothes off?” you called, raising a hand to shield your eyes.

“Your clothes were wet,” he said simply. “I am sorry about that by the way.” You squinted in the direction of the voice. “The only way to get here is through the waterfall,” he continued. “And that water is quite cold.” You listened carefully, hearing soft footsteps making their way towards you.

“I did, however, bring your pack,” he stated. “There were some clean undergarments in there and I put those on you.”

Finally, a figure emerged from beyond the edge of the light. It was Beomgyu. He stopped at the edge of the pile of furs. “Is this your home?” you asked, looking up at him as you made sure your body was covered. He nodded, hands tucked into the pockets of his clothes. Before you hadn’t noticed but he was wearing a simple tunic and a pair of dark pants. He wore no shoes.

“Did you… do anything to me?” you asked softly. Beomgyu chuckled, shaking his head. “Not yet,” he said, removing his hands from his pockets. He slowly knelt onto the pile of furs, crawling towards you at a tortoise’s pace. You leaned back, holding the blanket up to your chest with both hands now. He slowly leaned over you, forcing you to lay back against the bed.

“Would you like me to?” he asked quietly, one of his hands taking your chin, the pad of his thumb pressing against your bottom lip and pulling down slightly. “I could do anything you want me to,” he said softly. “Be anyone you want me to be.” You watched in shock as his form shifted effortlessly into the familiar face of one of your friends.

“Come on,” he whined in Yeonjun’s voice, your friend’s dark brown eyes looking back at you. “It’ll be fun!” You shook your head, trying to push him off you. “Or perhaps someone else?” he asked and again his form shifted into that of your other friend. “Yeah,” he said in the low, collected tone of Soobin.

“You seemed awfully close to this one.”

“Stop it!” you shrieked, shutting your eyes and turning your head away. “Hey,” he said, his voice back to normal. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to make you more comfortable.” You opened your eyes slowly, Beomgyu’s face coming back into view. “I could be anything you want. Fulfill any fantasy or desire of yours,” he added, cupping your cheek.

“All you have to do is say yes.”

You stared up at him, skin heating up under his gaze as the weight of his body settled on top of you. He lowered himself, pressing against your core through the blanket. “I could also just take you right now,” he added, rolling his hips slightly. “It’s more fun if you fight.”

You blinked up at him, processing his words. “What if I… pretend?” you asked in a soft voice. He tilted his head. “Pretend? Pretend what?” he asked, sounding every bit curious. “What if I pretend to fight you? If it’s more fun. Wouldn’t it be better if I gave you my consent?”

Beomgyu’s brow furrowed in confusion. “I don’t think I understand,” he started. “Are you saying you’ll give yourself to me but that you’ll fight me?” You nodded. “In a way. I’m consenting to sex but if you want me to struggle, I can pretend.” A smile slowly grew across his face. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of such a thing before.”

“I’ll give myself to you and pretend to struggle and fight against it but only if you promise me something,” you said as his hand started to wander. “And what’s that?” he asked, lips brushing against yours as he leaned in. “That you’ll stop if I really ask you to.” He frowned slightly but quickly his expression went neutral. “Fine,” he started. “But how will I know when to stop?” he asked, tilting his head.

You wracked your brain for a safeword. “Pumpkin pie,” you said suddenly. Beomgyu gave you a perplexed look. “If I say pumpkin pie, you need to stop, okay?” His golden eyes studied your face for a moment before he nodded. “Fine. I accept your terms,” he said,

“Now,” he said softly as he laid his weight on top of you, his hips slotting between your thighs.

“Tell me about your fantasies. What do you want? Do you want me to stay like this? Or shall I change into one of your friends?” he asked with a smirk. You shook your head wordlessly. “Just like this is fine,” you said. “Good,” he said softly. “But I can’t promise I won’t shift a little while we’re in the midst of it.”

You were about to protest when he leaned in, capturing your lips in a heated but cautious kiss. He was testing the waters, lips moving against yours as one of his hands continued to roam, exploring your body over the blanket. “You’re supposed to fight me,” he murmured against your lips, hand slipping under the blanket and darting between your legs.

“S-sorry,” you stammered as his fingers pressed the fabric of your underwear into your sex, chuckling as he felt how wet you were growing. “Your panties are soaked already,” he murmured, amused at how easy you seemed to get aroused. You let out a whimper as he slipped his hand dipped past the waistband of your panties, feeling between your folds.

“So wet and ready for me,” he purred. “You’re supposed to be struggling against me, love.”

You mentally cursed again. It just felt so good having his fingers working against your clit. “S-sorry,” you murmured again. You tried to push him off you but he was clearly much stronger. He moved his arm, pressing his forearm against your collar across your chest and holding you down.

“Keep struggling,” he said, a glint in his eye. You tried to throw your weight into it. “S-stop,” you said softly. “Oh I think you can do better than that,” Beomgyu said, fingers halting. “Go on now, do it properly.” You stared up at him as his fingers started to move again, inching down towards your entrance. “S-stop! Get off me!” you nearly shouted.

Your voice echoed around the cave, the smile on Beomgyu’s face spreading. “That’s it,” he murmured. “Keep fighting me.” You grabbed at his shirt trying to push or pull him off you to no avail. The more you struggled and found more confidence the more excited he seemed to get.

Finally you threw everything into it, managing to flip him onto his side. You quickly tried to get up but he was quicker, grabbing you by the ankle and pulling you back, dragging you back onto the bed. You fought against his hold, trying to slap his hands away as he grabbed you and turned you over onto your stomach.

You hadn’t used your safeword and if truth be told, you were enjoying this. You kicked and struggled, trying to throw him off you until he managed to climb over you, pinning you legs down between his thighs, grabbing and pinning your wrists down next to your head.

“Oh, I’m going to have fun with you,” he said, his voice full of excitement. You tried to struggle against him, screaming at him to get off you. He leaned over, lips near your ear. “If you want me to stop, you know what to say. Are you going to use that word?” You shook your head. “No,” you whispered.

Beomgyu chuckled darkly, pushing himself back up. “Good,” he said as he pulled your arms, moving them behind your back and scooting back so he could grab your panties. “I’m sure you have more of these,” he said softly, running his fingertips over the lace.

You heard the fabric pull against you, biting into your skin as he ripped them off you, discarding them somewhere. Your bra followed, being ripped in the same fashion and discarded quickly. Beomgyu held your wrists with one hand as the other moved down, sliding over your backside.

His fingers dug into the flesh of your ass. “So beautiful,” he murmured, his voice taking on a different tone. You turned your head, seeing out of the corner of your eye, he’d changed his appearance to that of Yeonjun. “I said stop doing that!” you said quickly. Yeonjun’s face looked up at you, a devilish grin spreading over his face.

“Are you using your safeword?” he asked, tilting his head. Your heart skipped a beat. “N-no,” you whispered, letting out a moan as his hand dipped between your thighs. “That’s what I thought. The appearances weren’t part of the deal, doll,” he continued. “If you want me to stop, you’re going to have to use your safeword, otherwise…” he trailed off, fingers finding your slit and sinking into your cunt.

He let out a sigh as your warm walls welcomed his fingers. “I can’t wait to feel you wrapped around my cock,” he murmured, still in Yeonjun’s voice. It was uncanny but your walls clenched around his fingers and he chuckled. “Do you often think about fucking your friends?” he asked.

You were rendered speechless as he curled his fingers slowly, starting to pump in and out of you. “I’ll bet you do. Two tall handsome guys like that? I bet they would jump at the chance to have even a taste of you. Don’t you think so?”

You moaned in response, burying your face into the furs. “I’d really like a taste of this,” he said softly as he pulled his fingers out of you. “Will you be good long enough for me to get a taste of this pretty little cunt you have?” You moaned, nodding again as he squeezed your ass, kneading gently.

“On your back then,” he murmured. You did as he asked, rolling onto your back. He used the lapse in attention on you to remove his own clothes but he was down on his stomach, grabbing your hips and pulling you closer to his face. His tongue peeked out to wet his lips before he glanced up at you.

“No fighting me,” he warned. You nodded silently. “I promise,” you breathed out. He smiled, giving you a wink. “Good girl,” he said before dipping his head, tongue pressing between your lips to find your clit. The moment he got a taste, he let out the most erotic groan you’d ever heard and it was like a feeding frenzy had started.

His tongue moved expertly, dragging over your clit in slow strokes, alternating between soft and hard, flicking the nub with the tip of his tongue and gently sucking. Your hands flew to his dark hair, fingers locking in the tresses. It was surreal to have him between your thighs, looking identical to one of your best friends but you’d be a liar if you said you hadn’t thought about this at least once.

Yeonjun was an extremely good-looking guy and you trusted him. He may be annoying at times but he was smart, funny, kind, and more importantly, loyal. Anyone would want someone like that. His confidence was extremely attractive and he exuded it.

“F-fuck,” you gasped, thighs trembling as your orgasm neared. The kumiho, back in the form of Beomgyu, noticed and pulled away. “No!” you cried out as you were robbed of your climax. “So eager to cum already?” Beomgyu chuckled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “It’s the only way I can…” you trailed off, realizing you’d said too much.

You felt Beomgyu kiss his way up your stomach and chest, skipping over your breast until he reached your neck. You tilted your head away, allowing him more access. His tongue ran over your pulsepoint and you let out a cry as he sank his teeth into your skin.

“It’s the only way you can what?” he whispered into your ear. “Nothing,” you answered quickly. Beomgyu clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Come on now, darling,” he cooed. “You can tell me.” Yeonjun’s voice was back and when you opened your eyes, you were looking into his brown ones. “It’s me, you can tell me anything, right?”

You let out a squeak as his fingers slipped back inside you, pumping steadily. It was enough to keep you on the edge but not enough to give you release. “It’s the only way I can cum!” you blurted out in the deceivingly comforting brown eyes of the kumiho masquerading as your best friend.

“What do you mean?” he asked, tilting his head, looking every bit a curious puppy. “I’ve never…” you trailed off and he seemed to pick up what you were hinting at. “No,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. “Never?” he asked. You nodded, feeling quite embarrassed about what you were admitting to. The fox spirit stared at you in shock.

“What do you mean you’ve never come from sex?!” he asked incredulously. You tried to cover your face but he grabbed your wrists. “What loser have you been fucking?” You whined in shame, face heating up as you tried to pull your wrists free. “Oh no,” he said. “We’re not having that.”

He turned you onto your stomach. “I’m gonna make you cum,” he said as he grabbed your wrists, pinning your arms behind your back. It was then you realized you were supposed to be struggling against him. You tried to pull but he merely pressed you down into the furs.

“Change of plans, sweetheart,” he said as he nudged your thighs apart. “You don’t need to fight me. I’m going to make you cum on this cock until you can’t take it anymore,” he continued, holding your wrists with one hand as he guided the head of his cock to your hole. You felt him rub the tip through your folds, gathering your wetness before he slowly pushed into you.

You let out a groan as he sank his cock in, your warm walls squeezing and inviting him deeper, sucking him in further. You moaned loudly as his hips snapped forward against your ass, sheathing himself in one motion. It was sudden and harsh and sent a stinging sensation through your cunt as it stretched around him. “Oh, you’re so warm,” he groaned.

His voice had changed again.

You glanced over your shoulder finding the familiar face of Soobin, chocolate brown eyes staring back at you and his blond hair a mess. You clenched hard around the cock currently lodged in your pussy, making the kumiho groan as well. “You seem more receptive to this one,” he murmured, pulling back slightly. He thrust into you, making you gasp.

“Much more receptive,” he continued. He released your wrists and instead wrapped an arm around your chest as he pressed his weight on top of you. He started a steady but fast pace with his thrusts, the wet sound of his cock pumping in and out of you filling the cave and echoing over the sounds of your moans and panting.

“Squeezing so tight,” he murmured in your ear, sending chills down your spine. His hold tightened as he pulled your back against his chest. “M’gonna fuck you so full,” he growled in your ear. You whimpered, corners of your eyes burning. The pleasure was so overwhelming, moving you to the brink of tears. A small sob escaped you and the fox spirit halted his movement.

“Are you crying?” he asked, sounding amused. “Does it feel that good?” he asked. You nodded, choking back sobs, tears starting to fall onto your cheeks. “Fuck,” he groaned, cock twitching inside you. He quickly pulled out, turning you onto your back before sliding back into you. Your tears didn’t stop when he started fucking you harder in this position, grunting with the effort it took to deliver each powerful thrust.

You let out a cry of pleasure, more tears spilling from your eyes.

“Fuck,” he growled. Soobin’s voice sounded so different. So animalistic. You’d never heard him sound like that before and it made you want to know what he really sounded like in the midst of passion. Not that you would probably ever learn. You’d have to settle for what the kumiho would give you. It was a likeness to be sure and the closest you’d ever get.

“God, I love it when you cry,” he groaned, pounding into you. Each thrust had a strained sob mixed with a moan falling from your lips, more tears flowing freely. “Fuck, I could cum just from watching you cry.” You let out a moan, cunt spasming around his cock as your orgasm hurtled towards you.

You felt him snake a hand between your bodies, thumb finding your clit and rubbing it in time with his thrusts, driving you over the edge. Your walls clamped down on his cock as you came, a loud moan escaping you as your back arched off the bed.

“Fuck, yes, that’s it sweetheart, come for me,” Soobin’s voice said in a deep, strained tone. “Gonna make me cum.” His hips stuttered as he let out a low moan into your ear, he thrust into you a few more times before he finally came, his thick load spilling into you and painting your walls. “Fuuuuuck,” he groaned, burying his cock into your used cunt and stilling there as he tried to catch his breath.

You passed out quickly and when you woke, you were wrapped up in the same brown blanket the furs under you were warm and soft. The sun had set, replaced with the moon instead which casted a silvery glow over the bed. You blinked the sleep away and started to sit up. Beside you was Beomgyu, fast asleep.

You heard voices whispering and looked out to see the cave wasn’t much bigger than the area where you lay. There was a small slit in the rocks that extended up about ten feet and beyond it you could hear rushing water. To the left, you noticed a fire and two figures. Your eyes widened as you realized they were the forms of your two friends.

“Y-Yeonjun?!” you called out. “Soobin?!!” They heard you and lifted their heads, turning to look in your direction. You let out a gasp as you met their gazes and saw staring back at you two two sets of golden-orange eyes.

‘No,’ you thought.

“Didn’t you find it odd that I knew their forms so well?” Beomgyu whispered from beside you, nuzzling into your neck. “That I knew every single detail and their voices so well?” Suddenly everything made so much sense. The subtle clues were there all along as far back as you could remember since meeting Yeonjun and Soobin.

“We weren’t even supposed to stay this long,” he said softly. “But they kept saying how enticing you were. So sweet, so kind, so pretty,” he continued, pressing kisses against your skin. “I just had to see for myself,” he added. You glanced at him, taking your eyes off Yeonjun and Soobin.

“And now that you’re here,” he added, reaching up to cup the side of your neck. “You’re not leaving.”

Your heart skipped a beat as his golden-orange eyes burned into yours. “And neither are we,” a voice said softly in your ear. You turned your head, locking eyes with Soobin. “He told us how much you seemed to enjoy it,” Yeonjun said from behind you, trailing his fingers up your spine.

“Especially when he shifted to look like Soobin.”

You felt a strong hand grab your chin gently but firmly and turn your head. You met Soobin’s gaze. “If you wanted me so bad, you should have just said so, sweetheart,” he said in a deep voice. “I would have gladly let you in my bed.”

He leaned in, lips brushing against yours. “You got a preview,” he murmured, breath hot against your face.

“Now how about the real thing?”

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