#provided they put a fitting face paint for it

[enchanted-lightning-aes]

I've always had beef with the way mattel handled the face paint of some specific face sculpts/molds for barbie. Millie, for all its overusage and flaws, seems to be spared from the excessive face paint given to generation girl prior to her debut.

But regardless.

[ID: a collage of Barbie dolls in pink dresses with different face nolds / finish ID]

[dior-luxury]

hi!!! could you write a reaction where y/n says that (karasu, shidou and barou's) hair looks better down? Tyy! 😋

𝐓𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐇𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐃𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞

( ✧ ) ────── 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 . 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐚 - 𝐬𝐡𝐞/𝐡𝐞𝐫 .

- [𝐜𝐡.] karasu tabito . barou shoei . shidou ryusei - [𝐩:𝐬] sfw

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: This is such a funny prompt (￣▽￣)! I have always loved how these three looked with their hair down and it sucks that the manga/anime didn't show it.. (>_<) cause I would've eaten it up lol.

Karasu Tabito

He takes great pride in his hair and spends a lot of time styling it each day. His unique, gravity-defying hairstyle is his trademark look. However, light-hearted comments about his hair can annoy him, as he feels they show a lack of appreciation for the effort he puts into it. For Karasu, his hairstyle is a crucial part of his identity.

Once you gently explained to him that his hair was perfectly fine just the way it was—and that you simply preferred seeing it down—he seemed to relax a bit. Although neither of you would openly admit it, there was an unspoken understanding that he actually favored the feel of his hair without all the gel weighing it down. There was a sense of liberation in letting it cascade freely, and he might find himself embracing that look more often now, simply because it pleased you.

Karasu had always been a bit sulky when anyone dared to touch his hair, as if safeguarding his autonomy over it.

At that moment, he lay comfortably on his pillow, watching you with interest as you sat at his desk, engrossed in your homework for Science class. The room was quiet, save for the occasional sound of your pen scratching against the paper, and it was clear you were wrestling with the material, trying to catch up.

Sighing with a hint of boredom, you put your pen down and turned your gaze towards him. The sight of Karasu, with his dark purple hair spilling over the pillow, captivated you. His hair looked free and unrestrained, the soft strands framing his angular face. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight; he looked ethereal, almost like he belonged in a painting.

He caught your gaze and raised an eyebrow, a subtle hint of curiosity dancing in his eyes. “Ya? What do you want?” he asked, his tone betraying just a hint of playful skepticism.

You couldn’t suppress your smile as you responded, “You look so much better with your hair down, you know, Karasu?” You stood up from your chair and approached him, allowing yourself to appreciate the way his deep purple locks shone slightly in the soft light.

Karasu narrowed his eyes, regarding you with a mixture of suspicion and intrigue, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. Compliments weren’t something he was used to receiving, especially not about his appearance.

A flicker of joy crossed his face, despite his best efforts to mask it. “Ya, I guess it looks good,” he replied, the defensive tone ill-fitting against the slight smile that crept onto his lips. It was clear that, deep down, he relished the attention you were giving him, even if he tried to play it off. The connection between you both felt alive in that moment, marked by unspoken feelings and newfound understanding.

Barou Shoei

Barou would certainly resonate with your thoughts on hairstyles. He finds a certain joy in allowing his hair to cascade freely, savoring the liberating feeling it provides. There’s an undeniable allure to the way it frames his face, giving him a relaxed yet striking appearance. However, in the heat of competition on the field, he often encounters frustration with the untamed strands, as they tend to become a distraction during intense moments of play.

Yet, despite these challenges, he holds a particular fondness for wearing his hair down. Much like Karasu, he embraces this style not just for himself, but because it brightens your day, bringing a genuine smile to your lips.

You found yourself at Barou's house, spending quality time with him and his family during the winter break. This rare respite was one of the few occasions he had off from BlueLock, allowing you to enjoy each other's company without the pressures of training or competition hanging over you.

As laughter filled the air downstairs, you could hear the chatter of everyone gathered around the television, engrossed in a family movie. Meanwhile, you and Barou's younger sisters occupied the cozy space upstairs, engrossed in a world of colorful Barbies. The room echoed with giggles and imaginative play, creating an atmosphere of pure joy.

After a while, Barou quietly made his way upstairs, having just spent some time washing out the hair wax he typically styled his hair with. You and his sisters were too caught up in your fun to notice him at first, until his younger sister caught sight of him and exclaimed, drawing your attention. You turned your head toward the doorway, and your breath caught in your throat for a moment. There stood Barou, framed by the doorway in an almost ethereal way, his hair cascading down in soft waves without any product weighing it down. The transformation was striking—his normally slicked-back style giving way to a more relaxed and natural look that accentuated the sharp angles of his face.

With a bright smile, you couldn't help but exclaim, "I’ve never seen you with your hair down; you should do it more often!" Your admiration was clear in your voice, genuine and infectious.

Barou, caught off guard by the compliment, flashed a teasing smirk, his cheeks slightly flushed. "Oh really?" he mumbled, clearly enjoying the attention.

His younger sister, ever the honest critic, piped up, looking between the two of you with a frown. "Seriously? I think he looks terrible like that!" she said, scrunching her nose in exaggerated disapproval, which only made you giggle more. The playful banter added warmth to the already delightful afternoon.

Shidou Ryusei

Shidou is someone who stands firmly in his beliefs, especially when it comes to his appearance. He is entirely dismissive of others' opinions regarding his hair; no matter what anyone says, he remains unshaken and unbothered. In fact, Shidou tends to be more easily annoyed than someone like Karasu, which often adds a playful tension to interactions.

During one of your conversations, you casually mention how much you prefer his hair down instead of styled up. He raises an eyebrow, a hint of irritation flickering across his face. “What do you mean you like my hair down more?” he replies, a mix of incredulity and an underlying challenge in his tone.

Once the discussion continues, your relentless insistence nudges him closer to submission. After some back-and-forth, he finally relents and agrees to wear his hair down more often, though he’s far too proud to openly admit he actually enjoys it. Instead, he will make cheeky, suggestive comments about your fascination with his hair when it's down, teasing you in a light-hearted manner, which only adds to the dynamic between you two.

Today marks a joyous milestone for both of you as you revel in your first anniversary at a vibrant arcade, a dazzling realm awash with colorful lights and the lively cacophony of games echoing all around. The atmosphere hums with excitement, each corner alive with laughter and the joyful shouts of fellow players. Shidou, who typically embraces a more reserved style, has taken a bold step today, styling his hair in a way that beautifully frames his face. The softer look is striking— a refreshing shift from his usual spiky, gelled hairstyle. He seems aware of the newfound charm, casting playful glances your way while a teasing smile flits across his lips. His eyes sparkle with an undeniable mischief, hinting that beneath his laid-back exterior, he’s secretly reveling in your attention.

As you glide through the arcade, your laughter rises above the clatter of tokens and the beeps of machines. There’s an exhilarating array of games just waiting to be conquered—everything from fast-paced basketball shootouts to delightful claw machines overflowing with plushies begging to be won. You and Shidou dive into the fun, playfully ribbing each other while erupting into fits of giggles. Each of his playful, yet comically unsuccessful attempts to snag one of those adorable plushies only makes you laugh harder. The way he misjudges the claw’s reach is a comedy show in itself, and each blunder seems to bring you closer together, weaving a tapestry of joyous moments that feel oh-so-precious.

As the day dances on, you find a cozy table amid the arcade chaos, the mouthwatering aroma from nearby food stalls both tempting and irresistible. With steaming plates brimming with deliciousness in front of you, the conversation flows like a river. You delve deep into discussions about your favorite movies and anime—when the name Jurassic Park pops up, Shidou nearly leaps from his seat, a broad grin lighting up his face. His enthusiasm is infectious as he passionately shares the brilliance behind the plot and his enduring love for dinosaurs, exclaiming how “cute” it is when they eat people. His insight is both amusing and concerning, but knowing Shidou, it feels right in its quirky way.

Amidst this delightful exchange, the subject shifts to hairstyles. You can’t hold back your curiosity and wonder out loud how he might look with his hair down. The suggestion takes him aback, eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “My hair down? Y/N-chan, are you pulling my leg?” His teasing tone is underlined with genuine bewilderment, making you smile.

Quick to clarify, you reassure him, “It’s not that I dislike your hair up! I just think it’d be fun to see it down, that’s all.”

As your words hang in the air, Shidou blinks, his expression shifting from confusion to realization. “That makes more sense, Y/N-chan,” he finally responds, amusement sparkling in his eyes once more. “But I swear, I would have to tackle you if you said otherwise… just kidding~” His laughter is utterly infectious, wrapping around you like a warm embrace, and in that moment, the bond between you deepens even further, filled with warmth, humor, and a touch of mischief.

[m1d-45]

for all to see

summary: fontaine’s court of law is questionable on a good day. on a bad day? well…

word count: ~1.2k

-> warnings: you die, blood mention, spoilers for fontaine archon quest (only names of things), potentially ooc neuvillette(?)

-> gn reader (you/yours)

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr

< masterlist >

despite being the nation of justice, fontaine was not known for its fairness.

trials took place in opera houses, the prosecution focused not on proving their claim, but to put on a show. the citizens didn’t care for the outcome if it wasn’t amusing, the archon known for throwing fits if things were too boring. to survive was to be entertaining, painting as many coats of shimmering blue over your soul until it was shiny enough to go outside.

obtuse laws hid around every corner. no floating objects for the first three days of each month. no fonta was to be brought into any government buildings, unless the date was a prime number, in which case it could be any flavor but strawberry. mechanical pens had long since been invented, but had to be classed as a meka, which required a permit that far outweighed the price of the pen itself.

nothing made sense. even neuvilette, as well versed in the law as he was, did not understand the reasoning behind most of these rules.

however, there was one that he backed entirely, the very first law ever established in fontaine—arguably in teyvat as a whole, the very notion of such a crime pulling disgust regardless of origin.

‘Any person or persons found to be impersonating the divine creator, with the exceptions of roles within an opera or other such performance, shall be punished with the full extent of the law, up to and including the death penalty.’

“defendant, do you have any evidence to refute ms furina’s claims?”

you said nothing, staring down at your hands. you’d stopped pulling at the cuffs that bound you to the railing, leaving you still as stone. your entire appearance was disheveled, a result of the nearly year’s long hunt for you. part of him felt pity, but he quickly dismissed it. you deserved this—provided you didn’t, somehow, have evidence to the contrary…

you looked up, overgrown hair falling into tired eyes. you were dirty, dark crusts of blood lining hairline scratches all over your face and arms. you didn’t say a word, but he found himself avoiding your sharp gaze quickly, inspecting your wrists instead. raw, angry, the metal cuffs unkind.

“if you wish to think, say so. if your silence continues, i will be forced to move on.”

you looked back down to the banister wordlessly, the crowd murmuring at your silence. he ignored them.

“we now turn to the oratrice mecanique d'analyse cardinale to render the final verdict on the charges.”

the oratrice clicked and clunked, gears spinning and meshing as the machine drew its conclusion. blue faith filled the tubes within the walls, collecting, then were pulled back in relative quiet. now would be when the scales would return to normal, but he hadn’t heard them tilt at all during the trial… he pushed aside that train of thought once again. he was getting distracted too easily considering the importance of this trial.

he picked up the verdict from the oratrice, addressing the crowd. “according to the judgement of the oratrice mechanique d’analyse cardinale, the defendant is…” his breath skips as he opened the small folder, something in his chest twisting violently. “…innocent?”

how?

furina sat up in a hurry, the audience clamoring for reasoning, but he barely hears anything. if the oratrice itself declared you innocent, then…

behind furina, his god also stands, cold eyes staring into the crowd. “calm down, everyone. it’s clear this fraud has simply tampered with the oratrice.” your head snapped up as neuvillette closed the pages from the oratrice, sending it back down the chute.

“my god, i can personally assure you that the defendant has not had the opportunity to-“

“silence.”

he bowed his head when they turned to him, mouth dry. something was off about the situation, but what?

“since we clearly have all the evidence in front of us, i think we can safely override the oratrice’s rule.”

“divine one, in fontaine law it clearly states that the oratrice-“

“and i’ve stated that it can be overruled. which is more important, fontaine’s laws or divine laws?” he couldn’t speak. “clorinde, my bow.”

he watched as clorinde produced a bow, as quiet as the crowd below. nobody could say a word—the death penalty hadn’t been imposed in fontaine for years… but this was a special case..

black steel arrows reflected light into his eyes as the creator pointed them at you, his heart thundering. the air was always polluted in fontaine, but it felt twice as oppressive now.

“chief justice. i can’t get a clean shot.”

neuvillette bowed once more, feeling cold. he weaved through the private hallways of the opera house, making his way to the defendant’s balcony.

he didn’t even know your name. you’d refused to give it- refused to say anything, really. how his god had arrived at this verdict was beyond him… but he could not overrule the divine. he opened the door to the balcony, uncertainly stepping to your side.

this was wrong. he could hear it begin to rain, water pattering against the windows, but all he could tangibly feel was confusion. he knew something was wrong, but what?

he lifted his hand but you beat him to it, lifting your head as you turned to face him. “step back,” you mumbled, and he found himself obeying in the split second before the arrow struck. bright blue blood flew into the air, landing right where he would have been.

you didn’t want him to get blood on his clothing.

the rain picked up, lightning striking close and shaking the floor beneath him. the whole house gasped, all eyes turned to you as you collapsed. he couldn’t look away, not when he heard the sound of a sword—clorinde’s, likely, furina was never one for a fight—or the shouts of the gardes. he was paralyzed, watching blue spread out beneath you, reaching the edge of the balcony and beginning to drip.

he’d known. he’d felt it. and yet he was powerless to stop your death, the one he- the one they all perceived as divine pinning down teyvat. he should have known from the moment they overruled the oratrice, should have seen the blue tint to your scratches, should have asked for more evidence before- before—

rain came down in hails, his hands shaking as he stared at the injustice before him.

[sukunasweetheart]

the whole court and justice system stuff going on right now in jjk is giving me ideas for modern au where criminal!sukuna put on trial for some heinous deeds he's done... but upon a fated happenstance he gets to hire the most perfect and competent defence lawyer who manages to somehow get him out of the situation as a free and innocent man. and being the charismatic and so very thoughtful man that he is, he decides he wants to do something for you in return...

warnings; female reader, smut, oral fem!receiving, mentions of murder and killing, dubcon-ish, morally corrupted reader, mildly submissive sukuna, male masturbation, cum in panties

words: 2.3k

criminal!sukuna, who's showing you gratitude in the only way he knows how... somewhere in a secluded room with the door locked behind. he sinks to his knees and hikes up your skirt, slides your panties down...

criminal!sukuna, who's kneeling down while your back is against the wall, one of your legs propped up on his shoulder as he eats you out so good that you're shuddering and twitching with every flicker of his tongue against your clit...

criminal!sukuna, who is getting drunk on the taste of you on his tongue, disregarding the fact that his face is beginning to sweat from the heat between your legs, and his cock is so hard that it hurts right now.

criminal!sukuna, who pulls out orgasm after orgasm out of you, not minding your slick that dribbles down his chin from doing so.

(how far will you let him take this?)

sukuna hadn't really cared much, whether he were to be ruled as innocent or be judged as guilty and sent to prison. he really was just planning on going with the flow, whichever direction life threw him in-- he's not one to cry and throw a tantrum over spoiled milk... if he gets locked up, so be it, he'd either find a way to cunningly get back out or he'd probably rise to the top amongst the inmates inside.

so even when he was introduced to you, a famously proficient defence lawyer and the top in your field, he wasn't expecting much from you at all.

but upon his first meeting with you, you managed to pique his interest when you confessed that you didn't give a fuck whether he's actually a criminal or not. as long as he's paying good money, you're going to get him out with 100% innocence. and to do that, you'll need a bit of his cooperation and honesty. whatever information you ask for, he needs to provide. so you can either slip it under the rug, or use it to your advantage in court.

he already thinks you're pretty fuckin' sexy. your formal and classy lawyer fit, tight ass pencil skirt... he'd like to get under it. your snobby and overly professional attitude. hah. he'd like to rip that away from you and see what's underneath all of it.

but for now, he does as you advise of him.

there were many instances where masses of journalists with their obnoxious mics and flashing cameras surrounded sukuna while he was getting moved from place to place with cuffs on his hands. he remained expressionless, all while thinking of how nice it would feel to paint the concrete floors with the blood of all these people. he'd even spare one of them, so they could publish whatever rubbish story they wanted. let the whole world know what he is.

and amongst all those who were against him, there really was only you. he's not quite used to this feeling, of having someone at his defence. he's never really needed it until he eventually slipped up and a detective caught onto his trail. he spent a considerable amount of time with you one-on-one.

while he was detained for a time before the trial began, there were times you visited him because you needed some confirmation on some of the information you had, but you also wanted to give him some advice on how he should answer questions when he was being interrogated.

"well, aren't i lucky to have a visitor with such a pretty face? nothing but unsightly insects and the stench of men in this filthy place," sukuna crooned with mischief in his tone, sitting himself down in front of you as a thin transparent wall separated the two of you.

"endure it. you won't be here for long after all."

god, he'd never seen someone with more confidence than himself in a long while. he wondered how you'd look if you did end up losing the trial. what a humiliation that would be. but something inside him said that you were going to prevail. his gut feelings are usually never wrong.

he's still quite nonchalant about it all, but oh boy, when he's sat next to you in court and watches you defend him against the prosecutor in front of a crowd for the first time... it does something to him. your voice, confident and clearly audible, how you articulate your words... all for his sake? (not really. but you get what i mean.)

"i know being cocky is your whole theme... but it'd be helpful if you could refrain from smirking or looking unapologetic during the trial. to get the jury on our side." you'd told him.

and he's trying, he really is (kind of...), but the corners of his mouth keep rising every time you debunk a piece of evidence presented by the prosecutor with ease. their expressions are really amusing. it's obvious how frustrated they are getting.

then he also thinks about what you'd said to him after that.

"ah, but perhaps... the media will favour you a bit better. they're always biased towards handsome faces. and don't underestimate the public's influence on court rulings."

you'd called him handsome, in such a matter of fact way. not that it was a rare occurrence- but something about you openly admitting it with your rigid personality had him going in a way no one else could.

in a matter of weeks, the tables had turned completely, and the court ruled him as an innocent man.

triumphant, you gathered your documents neatly put them in one pile. he's declared free to go, and while the place slowly empties of people, you meet sukuna in a now empty hall.

"so, you've set me free. knowing that i really was the one who did it," he voices dangerously, with a smirk. "i'd have to say, it's foolish thing to do. what if i made you my next victim? criminals know no courtesy, after all."

"you paid me a hefty sum. i don't do this for courtesy, you should know this by now. if i die by the hands of someone i defended, then so be it. i'll gladly bear the consequences of my own actions."

part of him wants to test your words. but it'd be such a waste to have you dead. right now, he's aching for something else.

"bold statement. you're not even a bit afraid? my cuffs have been off for a while now." you don't flinch even as he reaches out and palms your cheek. his hand is warm.

"not at all. you've been the most unreadable criminal i've defended, but after speaking to you for a while, i believe i've gotten better at interpreting your expressions."

"you've been reading me like a book, hey? well, enlighten me. i'm interested in hearing your thoughts."

"i may know what you want, but i don't plan on giving it to you. that's one line i don't cross with my clients."

"...oh yeah? well, good thing i'll be the one giving instead. how about we find an empty room first?"

"i don't need-"

"or should we do it here? do you like being an exhibitionist?"

you purse your lips together and give him a stern look, arms crossed.

"c'mon sweetheart. keep staring at me like that, and i'll get hard."

"enough. i have another client waiting."

"i'm sure you do. so i'll make it quick. you deserve a little something after all that hard work."

in the end, he successfully drags you off to a secluded room, somewhere in the building.

which finally brings you to present time...

sukuna's knees are probably going to be bruised later on. but at the moment, he doesn't feel a thing. all he can feel is arousal when he hears your whines and moans that seem so unlike you. gripping at his head, full body twitching as he sucks around your puffy and swollen clit, every huffing breath he takes in having the scent of you drenched in it.

you reach your third orgasm while standing in his manner, and he groans deeply as he feels it, your cunt pulsing against his lips.

you're clasping a hand over your mouth, but your muffled noises are still audible. deep down, you're starting to admit that perhaps you needed this, after all. sukuna was undeniably attractive, and you'd been constantly reminding yourself that he was but a murderer with blood on his hands... all for your efforts to come crashing down now.

it feels too good. he's getting you hot and bothered in a way no one else does. his hands palm and grope your asscheeks, touching whatever he can. whatever you'll let him.

once your clit begins to get too sensitive that it hurts, you have to push him away. and when he comes out from under your skirt, you take quite the liking to the state of his disheveled hair, flushed cheeks, your slick shining on his chin, and his glassy eyes. your leg comes off his shoulder, and the two of you are panting for a full minute before saying anything.

"fuck... i'll be honest, it was better than i thought it would be," you tell him, chest still rising up and down from the sexual high.

"bet it was. it's the least i could do after you were so good to me..." sukuna responds teasingly with a hoarse voice, looking up at you with his knees still against the floor, grinning.

you stare back, until your eyes wander down to the outline of his dick in his pants, clearly strained by the fabric.

"and what about you?" you ask with plenty a playfulness in your tone, smiling so gracefully. his cock visibly throbs when you mention it. you nudge it, gently dragging the tip of your toe up it's shape, still wearing your heels. sukuna doesn't hate it. in fact, he has to swallow up a moan coming from the back of his throat.

"feeling gracious enough to help relieve me?" he says with a cloudy haze in his eyes, grabbing your ankle with one of his calloused hands.

"hmm...not really. but i'm willing to watch you do it yourself."

"how perverted. to think you were so opposed to this, minutes before-"

you press down harder against his erection using the sole of your heel, and he groans, unable to stop himself this time.

"is that a no?"

"...if you'll let me finish in your panties, i will," he relents.

you give it some thought. and then you agree to it.

sukuna stands, and he stands close, towering over you with his height. he wastes no time in unbuckling himself.

revealing his thick cock, you marvel at its size and the way its drooling precum, veins running along its side and twitching against his palm. he begins to stroke himself. other hand against the wall behind you, he starts jacking off like he would if no one were around. like you're not there right in front of him.

you watch with a small smile, staring at his hand that goes up and down his erection at a fast pace. staring down at his leaking tip. listening to his small grunts and the wet sound of him fucking his fist.

then your gaze begins to wander. your eyes trail up and up, reaching his face, where you realise that he's looking directly at you. lust in his irises. your reflection shining in both those pupils of his.

sukuna hasn't touched himself in a while. he's never really needed to. but with a few words from you, he willingly obliged. now when you meet his eyes like that, he can't resist leaning down for a messy kiss with you, all while mumbling "mm..fuck-" against your lips.

he angles his hips closer to your pussy, making it so that every stroke makes his tip catch onto your clitoris. his hand speeds up. you hitch in a breath at the tension, at how close he is, as he's basically leaning into you now.

"i'm close... open up," he mutters into your ear, breaking the kiss.

your panties are hanging between your thighs, and you slip them up a little more up for him. his breathing starts to get faster.

"shit... 'm cumming-"

he aims it to the fabric of your underwear, and releases. sukuna groans deeply, twisting his hand towards the head of his bulbous tip as he spurts rope after rope of his seed on, hips jerking and dick throbbing with every hot string that comes out.

your hole clenches around nothing at the sight. there's so much. you're slightly starting to regret agreeing to this. it might seep out if he continues letting out this much.

thankfully, he comes to a stop soon. he squeezes himself for one last drop, and then his cock starts softening in his hand.

"all done?" you ask.

"every last drop." he watches you with a smirk as you pull it up. the warmth of it hits your cunt and you hide the way it feels arousing. he also tucks himself back in.

"now i'm running late," you say with a frown, taking a quick look at your wristwatch.

"so you actually had someone waiting?" he questions, raising an eyebrow.

"of course. why would i lie about that?"

the thought of you seeing another client with his sticky mess between your legs makes him a little hard again. you start heading off to the door, but he blocks your way.

"we'll be seeing each other again, won't we?"

"i don't know. will we?"

"of course we will," he offers slyly. "i'll have you choking on my dick, next time."

he's very adamant about it, and it doesn't seem like he'll let you through unless you give some sort of agreement to him.

"we'll see about that," you tell him. and then you follow it up with a small kiss to his cheek, which stuns him slightly. you make your way out the door and he stands as he listens to your footsteps that get further and further away.

...he knew that jerking off once would be far from enough for him. he regrets not asking for your panties instead.

Masterlist

[nyoomerr]

Fic prompt: SY is the chosen cleric of LBH, the world's most possessive divine emperor, accent on the divine. He did not sign up for this. (Meanwhile, LBH is trying to figure out how he can fit a divine empress into this pantheon)

i actually got very into this AU once i thought about it for 0.5 seconds, so here's a lil drabble that i hope to expand on and put on ao3 in the future ;>

---

Shen Yuan wouldn’t consider himself to be particularly religious. He believed in the gods, of course - the proof of their existence is written on every street corner and under every roof. The lights of the city that have no discernible power source outside of the goddess of invention herself, the unemptiable food basket that had been gifted to Shen Yuan’s father by the god of plenty, the buzz of raw energy in the air each weekend when the city gathers to say its prayers. 

Undoubtedly, Shen Yuan had grown up in a city blessed by the gods, so naturally he believes in them. He just doesn’t much care for them.

A city blessed by the gods is also a city kept by them, after all. No inventions that could possibly be construed as a weapon would ever be approved by the ministry of creation. No civil courts existed when the gods could directly send down divine punishment to sinners.

No life in the city would ever survive if the gods found it unworthy.

Shen Yuan knew, objectively, why the rules of the gods were so strict. Divine Emperor Luo wrote them himself, and each one had been crafted specifically to prevent the sort of strife and abuse that he had witnessed when he was a mere mortal. Every schoolchild learns the story of the pitiful Luo Binghe who struggled to reach the heavens, faced every day with proof of humanity’s dishonor and ugliness.

When that pathetic Luo Binghe had awakened his blood as the Divine Emperor, he’d immediately sought to rewrite the rules of the heavens to fix the issues he’d seen as a mortal. It made sense. It even worked, to some objective degree of measurement: starvation and war between human lands was barely heard of, these days.

Shen Yuan casts his eyes up to the ceiling of the chapel. A mural of Divine Emperor Luo is painted in bright splashes of color, his eyes piercing down at the viewer as he holds a drink in one hand and a woman in the other. An image of wealth and wellness; a warning to stay in line if you wish for a similar happy ending. 

Shen Yuan thinks that the Divine Emperor must truly have had a hard life, to rule as such an immature god. A child that never got the chance to grow up freely, now imposing their black-and-white outlook of life on an entire land of people who are mature enough to understand that life isn’t so simple.

Shen Yuan looks back down, peering through barely open eyes at his feet. He isn’t supposed to have his eyes open at all, during prayer. It’s just - despite the issues he has with the gods’ reign, and despite the apathy he feels in place of admiration or piety, he really can’t help but think - 

How pitiful, to have ascended without first understanding the joy of being human. How sad, to have your ‘happy ending’ worshiped by the masses without understanding it yourself, believing it to be good only because it follows your own strict rules. 

Shen Yuan sighs, a quiet release of air in the quiet of the chapel.

His next breath in feels electric. 

The vaulted ceilings of the chapel suddenly feel claustrophobic. The quiet hum of hands rubbing against hands in silent prayer rises to a crescendo of skin and movement and life. What low light the candles lining the pews had provided now burns as brightly as the light of a hundred divine lanterns, but there isn’t anywhere Shen Yuan can cast his eyes towards that is less shocking to look at. 

And there, at the front of the chapel, is a god. 

Shen Yuan’s breath catches. He can’t look away. The god is beautiful; more divine than any blessing that Shen Yuan has ever witnessed. 

He is also looking directly at Shen Yuan, meeting his gaze through half lidded eyes and with the laziness of an apex predator. 

Around Shen Yuan, the other church-goers have begun to break from their prayers, startled and choking on the divine presence around them. Many of them dare to sneak peeks at the descended god, but none of them seem able to look directly at him, their eyes sliding off of him before they quickly duck their heads and take up the pose of prayer once more.

Shen Yuan still can’t look away.

Slowly, the god steps down from the pulpit and begins to approach. He doesn’t bother to look at Shen Yuan as he moves forward, casually glancing around the chapel as if assessing it. His eyes catch on the mural on the ceiling - his own face looking down at him, though paling in comparison to the beauty and power of the real thing. 

And then he pulls his eyes back to Shen Yuan, and Shen Yuan realizes with a start that he’s stopped walking, standing directly in front of the pew Shen Yuan is sitting in.

Shen Yuan wets his lips. His pulse beats jack-rabbit fast in his throat.

“Divine Emperor Luo,” he greets. “How - how can I serve you?”

The weight of the Divine Emperor’s attention is no lighter than if Shen Yuan had held the entire ocean on his shoulders. He looks at Shen Yuan as if he might eat him, and expects Shen Yuan to thank him for the honor of filling a divine stomach.

“Do you think you can?” He asks, and Shen Yuan shudders at the sound of his voice. An infinitely powerful being, and he’s speaking to Shen Yuan as if Shen Yuan were a peculiarity, something fit to either be played with or disposed of once the god has finished assessing him. 

“Can I - um, my apologies, Divine Emperor, can I…?”

“Serve me,” The gods says. “Or did you offer such a thing unthinkingly?”

Shen Yuan stares at him. Divine Emperor Luo stares back, his gaze sharp as he takes Shen Yuan in. 

“Can you,” Divine Emperor Luo says, voice low and dangerous, “serve a god that you see as pitiful?”

Shen Yuan jerks back as if slapped. How useless would it be to say that he hadn’t meant it? If a god can hear any thought about them, not only directed prayers - for certainly, Shen Yuan’s private ruminations about the tragedy of Luo Binghe’s story had been nothing like a prayer, and yet they had clearly been heard - then there is no point in lying. If Shen Yuan were to claim one thing with his mouth and another with his mind, he’d only be branded one of the many sinners to be smited by the Divine Emperor’s just hand. Deceit was hardly looked favorably upon; to lie to a god that could hear the truth from your own mind would be suicide. 

Shen Yuan hesitates. At his back, he knows his family must be terrified, and yet he also knows that they dare not look at the Divine Emperor, and that their heads must be bowed in prayer like everyone else in the chapel. 

A room with a hundred people, and it may as well just be Shen Yuan and his god.

The Divine Emperor’s lips quirk up. It isn’t a friendly expression. 

“Your god, little Shen Yuan?” He asks cruelly. “You can pity me, and you can know in your heart that you are incapable of serving me, and yet you claim to be devout to me in the same breath?”

“Aren’t I yours, Divine Emperor?” Shen Yuan asks. His voice does not waver, but it is a near thing. “If I didn’t belong to you, could I dare to live in this city? Every living thing here must live by your rule; naturally, we must all belong to you.”

“What pretty words,” Divine Emperor Luo says. His eyes glint red from beneath his lashes, and Shen Yuan thinks -

Ah, so red is truly the color of the divine. 

Divine Emperor Luo’s eyes are very suddenly the same deep brown that his murals all portray him with. Shen Yuan lowers his gaze deferentially, and wonders idly if all the other too-sharp pieces of the Divine Emperor would smooth out if Shen Yuan’s thoughts lingered on them. 

“If Divine Emperor Luo finds my words pretty, then I will dare to keep speaking,” Shen Yuan says, keeping his eyes turned down. 

“Go on, then. Speak.”

Shen Yuan takes a shuddering breath in. His family is still cowering behind him. The old lady who lives down the street is shaking in her pew across the aisle. 

And Shen Yuan has never considered himself especially religious, because believing in the gods is very different from placing your faith in them. 

“To spy is the manifestation of distrust,” Shen Yuan recites, the words long since memorized after a lifetime of growing up under the gods’ many rules about morality and punishment. “A lack of trust in others implies something impure within yourself. Spying should be punished with ten lashes.”

Shen Yuan’s mother lets out a quiet sound of alarm, stifled so quickly it sounds like a whimper. Shen Yuan does not bother to send her any sort of mental apology; it would not reach her, and would instead be intercepted by an outsider. 

Besides, Shen Yuan had known well what he was doing, quoting the rules that the Divine Emperor had written right back at him, implying that a god should be punished. It would be foolish to apologize for something he had done so purposefully. 

“Spying,” Divine Emperor Luo says, after the silence in the chapel has stretched long. “What a funny way to describe listening to the prayers of my followers. Is it spying for you to hear a call made to you from within your own house?”

“If all of the prayers that the Divine Emperor receives sound like what he heard from me,” Shen Yuan says, glancing back up to meet the god’s eyes defiantly. “Then I wonder why he hasn’t bothered to descend before today to scold us all.”

“Does little Shen Yuan think I will scold him?” Divine Emperor Luo asks, voice soft. 

“I think,” Shen Yuan says, “that a god normally so busy with punishing us would not bother to descend unless it was to fulfill those duties.”

“The world is good, from the work that I do,” Divine Emperor Luo says sharply. 

“Is it?” Shen Yuan asks, and he finds that his fear has been pushed down, his chest tight with a lifetime of reading about the gods and wondering why, if Luo Binghe’s life was so miserable, would he be unable to recognize misery in his own subjects, living every day in fear of him? 

Luo Binghe had been pitiful, and he’d never been allowed to grow up peacefully, and Shen Yuan truly thinks it sad that a divine being could live in such a tragic way. 

But that doesn’t make him blind to the way that Luo Binghe’s immaturity has scorched the mortal plane, nor does his pity completely dissolve his anger over such a thing. 

Shen Yuan’s fate had been sealed from the moment they the Divine Emperor had descended. If he’s going to be punished regardless, then it will be for having said his piece. 

Dying from bitching this pathetic god out is a far better story than dying from having only thought it. 

And yet, before Shen Yuan can open his mouth again -

The Divine Emperor turns suddenly, facing the cleric at the front of the chapel. The old man is clutching at his prayer book with shaking hands, and he ducks his head instantly when the god looks his way. 

“Take him in as a disciple,” Divine Emperor Luo commands, gesturing lazily in Shen Yuan’s direction. “I want him trained and moved to the main church by the end of the year.”

Shen Yuan looks at the cleric, and then back at the god in front of him. He - what?

The Divine Emperor glances back at Shen Yuan, his lips quirked up and his eyes once more a blazing red. 

“There’s another reason for a god to descend than to administer punishment,” he says. “We must also appoint clerics.”

And then Divine Emperor Luo is gone, the space where he once stood crackling with divine energy. 

In disbelief, Shen Yuan - the first cleric to be personally appointed by the Divine Emperor in nearly a century - falls to his knees. Fuck, he thinks, and he hopes that the god is still listening to hear it. 

[placeinthemiddleofnowhere]

Reign Down on Me - Part 11

Pairing: Ghost x Hybrid!reader (eventual poly!141)

No use of y/n or mention of gender/race

Summary: Reader is a wolf hybrid in a world that treats them like second class citizens, given a horrible start in life after being thrown into the military with no preparation. After years of struggle, they're finally taken away from their base by Ghost, now a permanent member of taskforce 141 reader struggles to come to terms with the fact that perhaps there's a life there for them - if only they reach out and accept it.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, Angst, abuse mentions, self doubt, violent scenes

A/N: Thanks everyone for sticking with me 💕

-🐺-

“So, Pup, now that we’re acquainted I want to start the session by doing a quick check in to see how you’re feeling. For the first few visits with my clients, I usually like to provide a sheet just to help you express yourself properly. So I’m gonna give you this and then once you’ve made your selections we can talk about them and I can answer any questions you have. Don’t be afraid to pick as many as you need to!”

You stared dead eyed at Dr. Beale, already plotting a bloody murder attempt on Price; one befitting of the betrayal that you felt by being subjected to a therapist with all her gentle tones and well meaning smiles. She appeared nice enough, dark coils of hair twisted into a bun, a bright watercolour patterned dress, a small pair of black rimmed glasses; she could’ve passed for a school teacher honestly. 

You decided you wouldn’t be fooled by her outward appearance though, plenty of people could put on a good front afterall. She was probably going to play mind tricks on you. That’s what everyone said about therapists, right? She was going to find out about the things you resolved to tell no one about…

Besides, It wasn’t fair! Surely everyone in the team had their shit to deal with. Why were they allowed to romp around and continue with normal training while you’d been dumped into the quacks office? An office beckoning secrets to march out in the dreary reality of it all. 

The room itself was painted a now worn yellow with a bobbly carpet across the expanse of it that looked like it was about to match the walls with just a little more foot traffic. Despite that, Dr.Beale had clearly tried to make her best effort to cheer the place up. A string of fairy lights glowed behind her across the wall, illuminating the colourful art that was pinned up all over the place. She’d stuffed a few pot plants by the one window that did its best to shine a little light into the room, and from your puffy old armchair, you could just see a ‘plant mother’ mug sat at her desk to the left of her. 

Plants and fairy lights or not, you still felt like you were in hell. Waiting to be condescended to, waiting to be told what your feelings are and how to deal with them as if you hadn’t been managing yourself your whole life. Not to mention be shaken down for that one thing you said you purposefully wouldn’t discuss with her. 

“Here you go! Circle the ones you think fit best right now.” 

Dr. Beale finished shuffling through the papers in her hands and reached over to give you the floppy laminated sheet she selected. After that you were handed a whiteboard marker and given an expectant smile. 

You sighed and looked down at the assignment, almost groaning out loud when you saw what was on it. A few rows of cartoon faces greeted you and underneath each was an emotion. At the top of the sheet was a big thick fonted title that read ‘today I feel…’ 

Today I feel like I’m gonna puke up breakfast, you thought. 

For a moment you considered walking out and begging Price to give you one more chance, to drop the whole therapy thing. However once you remembered back to Ghost dropping you off, you let your ears sag against your head and dismissed the idea. The last thing you needed was Ghost marching into the room and getting in the middle of it all. 

Besides everyone had their work cut out for them. That’s what you told yourself. Soap and Gaz had to train, Ghost was at a meeting about the parade and Price was busy fuming over dead end leads and uncooperative guests. 

With that in mind you circled the orange grumpy face that said annoyed, the grey neutral face and at the last minute, also circled the light blue embarrassed face. After your selections were made you handed the sheet back to Dr.Beale and watched as she studied it. Of course when she looked back up at you she greeted you with that same neutral little smile. 

“Ok, thank you so much for sharing that with me. Now why don’t we talk about this a little. Would you like to tell me why you’re annoyed?” 

You bit your lip, undecided if you’d be honest or if you’d try to brush her off. Once you looked into her steely eyes though, you knew she didn’t look like a woman that was going to be easily fooled. Besides, over the time you’d been with him, Ghost had hammered the need to be honest into you till you felt sore at the idea of deflecting anymore. Well, deflecting about most things anyway. 

“I don’t think I need therapy,” you shrugged. “I could be doing something worthwhile right now, training with my team, or helping Ghost, even the gym seems more productive. No one’s ever stopped to talk about my emotions before and I don’t get what use that’s gonna be now. It’s not like any of the others have to take time out to talk about their feelings, why should I be any different?”

“I see,” she nodded. “And is that why you’re embarrassed? You think that being away from your team and talking with me is something to feel ashamed of?”

You nodded. 

“Well, I can see why you feel that way, it’s valid from your perspective, but i think it’s worthwhile remembering that your team have different needs than you.”

“What, you think all hybrids need therapy?” You frowned. 

She laughed a little at that and shook her head. The silence of her pause rang out, prompting you to look away from her and focus on a leaf on one of the plants. You watched it bounce and sway with the slight draft that swept in through the window. 

“I meant that as an individual we have different needs, is all,” she finally said. “We all struggle with different issues, need a little help with things now and then. Can you think of a reason why your captain signed you up for your sessions with me? Is there something you need to work through that you need help with?”

“I uh…” you paused this time, recognising that her tone conveyed that she knew exactly what you were supposed to say, Price had already told her of course. “I…black out sometimes when I’m put to work. I give into my instincts and I stop- stop being myself.”

She nodded, giving you space to add anything else with a gentle smile. It unnerved you. Never in your long career had you ever been given the space to sit and tell someone all your problems before, and only in that moment did you realise how much you could actually talk about if you let the dam break. 

Everything rushed through your head at once, the pressure bursting through your skull and reverberating across your clenched teeth. Your parents leaving you, Maddox torturing you, moments where you had no one to talk to, no one to comfort you, getting practically thrown out of helicopters and Jeeps and sent into the line of fire, sweating for hours in hot climates and assisting aid workers till you passed out, shivering and breathing out fading pillars of steam in the Norwegian mountains because your clothing was in such poor condition, starving in the kennels, begging for medical attention-

“Are you alright? Would you like a cup of tea or some water or something?”

You blinked over at Dr. Beale. Suddenly you were back in your body and you realised you’d been clenching the arms of your chair so hard that your claws had stuck themselves into the puffy lining.

You apologised and asked for some tea in as even a tone as you could muster. 

“When Price reached out, he told me about the instinct driven black outs- said Ghost had been managing you mostly, but that in a recent mission you wouldn’t listen and you almost died,” Dr. Beale said, standing by the kettle you hadn’t spotted before as it rumbled to life. “He also said, despite the blackouts, you’d been enjoying your time with your new team, said your relationship with Ghost was solid. Is that how you feel?”

“Yeah.”

“Care to share more on any of that?”

You had to take a second to process what you were going to tell her. Words weren't flooding to you in those moments. Your mind was still busy turning different possibilities over, sifting through possible outcomes of telling her or not telling her certain things. Was Beale to be trusted, would she actually help you? Why would Price make you speak to someone who wasn’t being genuine in their intention to help? But then how well did he know this doctor? 

“I dunno, the 141 have been nice to me. They all look after me and I like that I get to feel…like a part of something.”

“That’s great! It’s important to have bonds like that in your line of work. It’s hard when you’re a hybrid though, huh?”

“Mmhm, I didn’t think I’d ever have a handler,” you shrugged. “I’m lucky to have gotten Ghost though. He’s been…really nice to me.”

She stirred the tea bag around in the mug a second, the tinkling sound of the metal against ceramic causing your ears to flick. After quickly asking if you wanted milk and sugar, you were soon handed the warm mug, giving your hands something to clench onto. The steam gave you a sense of clarity, reminded you to breathe more. 

“What kinds of nice things does Ghost do then?”

-🐺-

“Get your coat on, we’re heading out.”

You looked up from the colourful pages of your graphic novel and huffed out a sigh as Ghost passed by your room. The day after getting back from Mexico you had been looking forward to catching up on your reading and doing nothing for most of the day. Apparently Ghost had other plans though. 

He was already at the door getting his boots on when you emerged, your ears drawn back and mouth set in a firm line. Your fingers curled into the warmth of your jacket sleeves, waiting on Ghost moving out the way so that you could get your own shoes on. The hall was cold since the heating hadn’t been on and the smell of the recent rain fall had managed to permeate around the door all the while. You liked that smell, didn’t mind that Ghost took a few extra seconds. 

“Where we going?” You asked, only speaking once you started to do up your laces. 

“Out.”

“Why?” You tried again, smiling when you saw his own barely concealed grin in the crinkles of his eyes. 

“Because I found somethin’ you’d like.”

“And what is it I like?” You pressed, ears standing fully to attention now. 

“Asking too many bloody questions apparently, fuck me,” he chuckled.

He ruffled your hair and was rewarded with a growl for his effort. He didn’t back down though. You playfully went to chomp on the edge of his palm, trying to discourage him from messing up your appearance right before going, but he drew his hand back in time before your teeth could connect. Your fangs biting into air.

“Naughty.”

“You started it,” you said with a smirk. 

“And I’ll put an end to it too. Anymore tryin’ to bite me and I’ll bite ya back.”

You folded your ears back in fake alarm, but of course Ghost knew exactly what you were doing and laughed you off. After ordering you to get your boots on it didn’t take long before you were out the door and following him into the car. The destination was still a mystery and Ghost remained stalwart in refusing any clues. It was to be an off base trip, that much was obvious, but to where?

Once Ghost got driving the scenery flashed by like a rolling screen, the barracks houses soon fading to country lanes and then springing back up to houses, then blocks of flats, the familiar route to the city splashing out ahead of you. All the way through the roads, classical music played softly in the background, the dramatic violins willing the road to pass under the wheels faster and faster while the road roared above it all. You liked car rides with Ghost, appreciated that you got to sit in his quiet company while he concentrated on the drive. 

After about a half hour, once day had quickly faded into night like a blinking eye, the car rolled up and up until eventually coming to a stop in a tall parking structure. When you got out of the car, the chill of the air bit your cheeks and beckoned you to come closer into its winds. You peeked over the edge of the barrier, staring down over the solid fencing at the city below with a cautious head tilt. You thought of the many vantage points you’d waited at throughout your life and couldn’t help but wait to be told to track a target. 

“C’mon, Pup. This way.”

Ghost pulled up his neck gaiter, newly ordered for the parade, and marched off toward the doorway. He knew you’d follow. Both of you milling past cars and toward the doors of the shopping centre beyond. Through the frosted glass you could already see the beginning glow of the lights beyond, smell the scattered scents of different shops teas and perfumes and chocolates among the mingling aromas.

“Gonna take me on another shopping spree?” You enquired. 

“Oh yeah, gonna make sure we get you kitted out. Get you all the clothes you’ve been begging me for,” he deadpanned. “Little fashionista.”

His flat voice gave nothing away. Only the crinkle of his eyes indicated to you that he wasn’t serious. It was hard to resist playing along with the bit however. 

“You think I’ll finally get that cowboy hat I always wanted?”

“Mm,” he grunted thoughtfully. “Get you the boots to match too.”

“And a whip?”

“Now that’ll do, I’ve only got so much budget.”

Finally you both entered through the double doors, Ghost holding the door open for you and letting you walk into the warmth first. The twinkling lights were easy to see now, all brightly sparkling amongst the banners that rolled down  from the ceiling, all advertising great deals to be had and fun places to go to. A couple of the banners even seemed to show a few hybrids. You stood for a second to to take them in, still surprised that hybrids were shown on advertisements now, blinking up for a few moments before you followed Ghost again. 

“So where are we actually going?” You huffed, finally falling in line with his huge steps. 

“You’ll see soon,” he laughed.

He waved you off with his hand when you tried to whine at him. It didn’t matter what you threw his way, he was quite content to swat you off like a fly. At one point he started digging his hand into your neck just to make you laugh and distract you from asking any more questions.

After some amount of shoving from each of you, you soon ended up in front of a bookstore. It was one of the chains you were used to going to, the fuzzy purple carpet the same as all the others, the tall stacks of colourful shelves gleaming with promise of adventure, romance and cartoon ass kickings. 

“You were being all secretive about going to the bookshop, why exactly?” You asked, cocking an ear back in confusion. 

Not that you weren’t grateful. However you’d gone to the book shop before with him, it was hardly worthy of being a secret. Ghost was cryptic as ever though. He merely shrugged his shoulders and lead the way inside, already beelining for the graphic novels without any input from you. You followed after him with a shake of your head after. 

With the next three books in your favourite series secured, plus another novel ‘without bloody pictures in it’ at Ghost’s insistence, he took you out of the shop and lead you up to the food court afterwards. The ‘adventure’ wasn’t at an end yet. You stood on the escalator and looked out at the people walking around - all to absorbed with themselves to worry about you, you’d now learned. It wasn’t a very busy night either, as stairs flattened at the top, it was revealed the food court was much the same as the rest of the place. 

“What do you want then?” He asked, stopping at a pillar and letting you survey the floor while he leaned his back against it. 

All the usual offerings filled the place, random Chinese, Italian, and sandwich shops, chains dotted in between them, and of course some random desert stalls. The smells invaded your senses, most tempting you to choose them, until one particular one won out. Pizza.

“I’ll not bother asking what you want on it,” Ghost snorted.

You’d protest if you didn’t know your own predictability. Besides there were more important things at stake than a wrong order. Once you were situated behind a young couple, you couldn’t help diving into your bag of books and pulling out your new book. It’d been a while since you’d read something with full sentences, the graphic novels were too addictive and easy to read after a long day, but this story seemed interesting at least. 

“You’re a nonsense, you are.”

“What? You’re the one that was encouraging me to get the thing and now I can’t read it?”

“Didn’t say you couldn’t read it. Most people just wait till they’re sat down to read.”

“I’m not most people,” you shrugged, shooting him a sly smile and a flick of the ears. 

He didn’t protest that. In true Ghost fashion, he nodded and made some gruff comment about you being a ‘harmless weirdo’ at least. Which, of course, you wouldn’t let stand. Harmless? It would be an insult to let him call you harmless when he knew exactly what you could do. You gave him a flash of your teeth, but were quickly disarmed when he squeezed the funny spot between your neck and shoulder again. 

“Stop doing that!” you whined, slapping his arm.

“But it’s funny,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “And you like it when I tease ya.”

“Do not.”

“Yeah you do. Your tail’s wagging.”

“That’s an annoyed wag actually. There’s a big difference,” you said, ensuring you weren’t looking anywhere near his eyes. 

If you had made eye contact you would’ve been afraid that Ghost would figure out you just liked it any time he touched you - no matter if it was teasing or not. After so long a time spent isolated and shoved away in kennels or bunks, every casual gesture felt like another drop in the cup that had been empty for so long. Now it felt like that cup was filling up more and more by the day, and you weren’t sure that there was an end, but knew that the bottom was just a bad memory now. 

The people ahead of you in the line stood off to the side a moment after, and soon you were snapped out of your thoughts and watching the Lieutenant. Ghost parted from you to get the pizzas and pay, quickly reeling off the order and tapping his card on the machine. He motioned his head for you to follow him to the next nearest pillar. His back once again easing against the solid surface. 

“You’re getting better at making shit up. Must be all that reading you’re doing,” Ghost noted, forcing you to remember what you’d just been talking about. “Or too much time with Gaz, cheeky bastard.”

He pulled you into him and mussed your hair, paying special attention to your ears. You whined but it didn’t matter. His knuckles relentlessly went on and built static between his skin and your hair and fur. Even without a mirror you knew that you were going to look a mess. You grabbed onto his hand and tried to separate yourself from the big lump holding you down, but it was no use.

“You’re not funny,” you huffed.

“Now that’s a lie,” Ghost laughed, finally letting you go. “Tails still waggin’ an’ all.”

“What my tail does isn’t any of your business,” you said petulantly.

“Everything you do is my business, Pup.”

“Oh yeah? Why that?”

“Cause you’re mine,” he said, a smile in his eyes while he smoothed the back of his hand across your jaw. 

In that moment, you couldn’t be more glad that he was called to go pick up the pizza, otherwise he might’ve caught the way your pupils expanded like a playful cat’s and the obnoxious speed of your tail. With a gulp and ‘get yourself together’, you walked toward a nearby table and waited for him to bring the food. There was no way you could muster looking toward him without crumbling into an overexcited bundle of nerves. 

“Excuse me,” called a small voice, capturing your attention.

You tilted your head and turned, soon finding the source of the sound. A small boy that had somehow materialised next to you on the bench that you’d chosen, his ears folded back and tail in his hand. At first you wondered where his parents were, worrying about what could happen to a hybrid child that found themselves missing, but then you remembered he’d tried to get your attention. 

“Are you ok? Do you need help?” You asked, still glancing around for a parent or some other family member who he might belong to. 

“No, no I’m fine,” he said, releasing his tail and sitting up tall on his knees. “I wanted to ask you something.”

You tilted your head again and looked him up and down. He was maybe seven or eight, quite tall even while on his knees on the bench, but he was all lanky and fluffy with his small age still. You weren’t much older than him when you’d been sent off to Branhaven. Had you looked so fragile and sweet once?

“What is it?” you finally asked, trying to forget about your own thoughts for the moment. 

“Are you a soldier?” he asked, pointing to the collar at your neck.

“I am,” you confirmed, a smile forming. “Why do you wanna know?”

“My daddy’s a soldier,” the boy shrugged, “he has a collar like that, but he only wears it when he has to work. Are you working?”

Now you could only frown. His father was a hybrid? And a soldier? It raised a few different questions for you, namely how could he have had a child with the lifestyle he led, and furthermore how could he be present when he’d be bound to a handler. Had you felt it appropriate, you would’ve thrown a thousand questions at the boy, but instead you answered him. 

“I’m not working,” you said. “I just don’t like taking it off.”

“Why?”

“I feel like I’m naked without it,” you shrugged.

The boy giggled at your answer, his bushy black tail wagging with delight. He was thoroughly impressed until Ghost walked over, sticking your pizza down and giving you a questioning look. Then the boy cocked his head, unsure of what to do. 

“Did you multiply while I wasn’t looking?” he asked, eyes crinkling.

The boy smiled again and wagged his tail, clearly sensing that Ghost must be safe. When you’d first met him it had taken a while to convince you of that, but then you supposed in his civvy clothes there was more of a softness about him. 

“Uh, kinda,” you said sheepishly, again wondering about where the kid’s parents were. “He was asking about my collar. Saying his dad is a hybrid soldier like me.”

“That right?” Ghost asked, taking the chair out across from you both. “What’s your name then?”

“I’m Ben Killroy,” the boy said proudly, puffing his chest up. “And I’m gonna be a soldier just like my dad and your hybrid.”

That made your stomach drop. A weight settling somewhere deep in your bones at the very idea of being driven down and delivered off into the same life you were. How long until that little smile washed off his face? A whole day or maybe just a few hours?

“That so? And your dad wants that for you does he?” Ghost asked.

“Well no,” he huffed, his ears folding back in annoyance. “Him and mum told me I’m not allowed to go, they keep saying I have to keep going to stupid school and get an education. Except they can’t tell me what to do once I’m eighteen, so then I can join!”

“School isn’t stupid, you’ll have a lot more fun there than the army,” you said sternly, firmly agreeing with his parents. 

“Ugh, you’re just like my parents,” he groaned, throwing his hands up. “School is crap! You have to sit in a room and pay attention to a stupid blackboard and you only get like… forty minutes outside. Plus there’s bullies that pull your tail and call you big ears in my school. If I went to a hybrid training program then no one would bully me for my tail or ears because everyone would have them! Except my dad says that’s not true and you do get bullied, but then when i ask him to prove it, he doesn’t tell me how its not true! That means he must be lying.”

At that you couldn’t help but snort, wishing you could pat his dad on the back. How right he was. Before you could tell him just how ludicrous the idea of not getting bullied in the army was, Ghost got in before you. Leaving you simmering to yourself.

“You know in the army you have to stay inside all day sometimes, and you have to sit in meetings for hours where you’re not allowed to speak or move?” Ghost said, peering over at you. “Isn’t that right, Pup?”

You nodded at him, watching as Ben narrowed his eyes.

“Why would you have to be in meetings not speaking or moving for hours?”

“Sometimes your handler has to be in them and talk about the mission you were on. You have to be there too, just in case you have to answer questions as well, but most of the time you’re expected to sit quiet and in the same spot without fidgeting- otherwise you get punished,” Ghost explained, nodding toward you. “Pup knows all about that, don’t you?”

“One time I had sit in a ten hour long meeting, and the one time I let out a yawn I got written up for it,” you said, full to bursting with unsavoury experiences you could regale him with. 

“But that’s not fair, ten hours is like…its like basically a whole day!”

“Uh huh, and after that I had to sleep outdoors all night,” you shrugged.

“You have to sleep outside? In the cold?” He asked, frowning deeper now and holding his tail again. 

“Yup. That’s one of the punishments you get the most when you’re in training.”

The boy didn’t look pleased about that at all. Though before he could question it any more a tall woman in a rain coat came by and snatched him by his hand. Not a hybrid, but still she clutched at him protectively and wore a panicked look in her eyes. 

“What has mummy told you about running off in public places, Ben! I went to the play area and got a shock when you weren’t there, that’s not very nice to mummy is it? ” She said sternly, ushering him to her side before addressing you and Ghost. “I’m really sorry about him. He always has to talk to every other hybrid he sees, even when he’s been told not to go wandering off.”

“Muuum,” he whined, ears glued to the side of his head. “You’re embarassing me in front of the soldiers.”

She raised her brows and looked properly at you both, eyes flickering to the collar around your neck and then over at Ghost. Knowing what you were, she seemed to tense a bit more.

“He hasn’t caused any trouble has he?” She asked, wrapping an arm around the huffing boy.

“He's fine,” Ghost said, dipping his head a little. “Was just telling us how he wanted to join up is all. We were saying that there’s no rush, school first.”

“Oh,” she said, relaxing again and smoothing a hand over her son’s head. “Yes, that’s very good advice. Do you hear that, Ben? School first!”

“But dad didn’t have to go to school,” Ben grumbled. 

“Well that’s because he didn’t get a choice, did he? C’mon, we’ve been enough of a distraction to these nice people. Let’s get you home, you little rascal,” she said sternly, looking to you for the last time she went on to say, “thanks for looking after him. You're a good soul.”

With that she ushered the protesting boy away and left you and Ghost to your food. At first the silence lingered between you both like a chasm, both of you digging in to your pizza. You staring off into the distance after the woman, while Ghost looked on at you with a calculating gaze. 

“You alright?” He finally asked.

“Mhmm,” you mumbled, rolling your eyes when he did nothing but raise his brows at you. “I just…I dunno. His mum was scared for him. She cares about him and wants him to go to school…”

Another moment of quiet passed. You chewed thoughtfully on a bit of pizza, barely tasting it, while figuring out what to say. Truthfully you didn’t really know how to put coherent words to what you were thinking beyond, ‘it’s not fair’. The beat of that particular drum almost outweighed all other thought. 

“And his dad… is like me. How does a hybrid soldier have a kid he’s raising?”

“Things have gotten a bit better the last few years. If you met someone and had a kid with them, you’d be given time off and be allowed to stay with them outside your work hours,” Ghost shrugged. “Did you not know that?”

“No… I suppose that never really applied to me till now though. Nobody ever took me off base, so it’s not like I would’ve met anyone.”

Ghost reached across the table and settled his warm hand on top of yours, his roughened thumb tracing the outline of yours. Your ears perked up at that. 

“Well it’s not like that anymore. You’ve got options, and people that care about you,” he murmured, his hand still caressing yours. “Just don’t go runnin’ off too quick. We’d miss ya.”

You smiled at that, a swish working its way back into your tail. The strange look Ghost wore on his face had a wave of giddiness washing over you. If you weren’t mistaken it was almost like…

“Are you jealous at the idea of me going off to live with someone else, Ghost?” You asked, tone light enough that it could pass for a joke. 

He snorted at that and drew back, looking away for a second before returning his eyes to yours. His stare was just as piercing as always. Vats of molten honey. 

“I told you in Mexico, I didn’t like it when you were gone. Feels wrong.”

“But you’d let me go if I asked?”

Ghost said yes. Tone clipped, shoulders hunched as he shovelled his way through another slice of pizza. He didn’t know it, but you smiled then and could hardly look at him as you thought about the possibilities that a lifetime with him could entail. 

“I don’t think I could imagine living with someone else now,” you said thoughtfully. “Not even the others. Especially not Price.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Too scarred after Mexico, the snore levels that man is capable of. I think health and safety should do a decibel test on him,” you said with a grin, watching on with glee as Ghost’s smile returned.

“It’s funny you say that because Price had similar complaints about you,” he said slyly. 

“No he didn’t!”

“Yes he did. Said you were squirmy and all, that you kept trying to shift yourself under his arms till he was cuddling you,” He laughed, pointing his pizza at you. 

“No I didn’t, that’s a lie!” you protested, a full whine breaking out into your voice.

Ghost’s dirty laugh came into full affect then, a full body thing that had your cheeks warming with the sound. Despite feeling mortified at the idea of unconsciously making Price spoon you, the fact that you were back on track with Ghost again couldn’t help but derail your shock. It was another moment of feeling normal, feeling almost human. It had you shaking your head at him instead and finishing your pizza with a little sigh of ‘unbelievable’.

“He didn’t actually say that, but you always do that with me.”

And thus the back and forth continued, the two of you fighting good naturedly while putting the pizza boxes in the bin, then still as you walked to the unknown next location and so finally stopping when you reached the cinema. The big dark lobby encased you, the dim lights making Ghost’s eyes sparkle all the more while he still refused to tell you what the big surprise was. 

Even when you reached the screen and sat in your big comfy chairs, you still couldn’t get the answer out of him, no more than a ‘wait and see’ was given. Not that it mattered to you of course. It had been many many years since you’d gone to the cinema and truth be told you were happy to watch just about anything. The smell of your popcorn filled your senses, while the low lights and quiet conversations lulled you into a relaxed state, drawing you closer and closer to Ghost’s chair next to you until you were leaning your head against the bulk of his shoulder. 

“I forgot how much I loved the cinema,” you sighed. “Thanks for bringing me.”

“S’alright.”

You were quiet a few moments more, watching with rapt attention even at the adverts, noting some of the trailers in your head for later so that you could see those movies later. A comedy that made you full on snort till Ghost was giving you a funny look, and a romance film that you would never confess to Ghost to wanting to see and would find a way to watch yourself, were among the few you’d catalogued away. 

Soon the lights blackened almost completely and any hushed conversations then died down. Your ears perked up when the screen went black and you tilted your head, waiting to read the title of the movie. When the screen showed, you blinked a couple times and tilted your head again. It was… the same title as the graphic novels you read. You frowned and turned to Ghost, waiting to see if your assumption was surely wrong, but the smile that inched onto his face told you otherwise.

“No way!” you whispered ecstatically. 

“Surprise,” he whispered back, bumping you with his shoulder. 

At that point you were sat up straight in your chair, full attention directed onto the screen as the opening music blared on and vibrant colours and shapes that seemed to have been pulled right off the pages of your books were dancing into life on the screen. Characters that you had spent hours thinking about began to appear, lines that you could remember reading and rereading were spoken and it was like magic itself was woven into the world in that moment. 

Ghost’s secrecy had paid off. Perhaps it had paid off a little too well - for hours after the film you were going on and on regaleing him about similarities and differences to the graphic novels, making sure he knew that one of the characters was different but so much better, that the ending of that film would lead to the next few comics in the series, that the lore of the world was worked into the film so well while covering the 3 books that it was based off. At times he would sprinkle in some questions here and there, but mostly you hit him with your full analysis until it probably felt like to him that you had seen the movie twice together.

Once you’d gotten home and into the bathroom, delving into your nightly routine, something in your chest simply wouldn’t let you settle into your own bed. Everything in you vibrated like a spring that needed to bounce, so much so that after trying to read the same line of your book five times, you admitted to yourself that you couldn’t get back into your routine after the day you’d had. And so you did the only thing you could think to do. 

Creeping into the hallway, you padded downward until you reached Ghost’s room, perking an ear up and listening for any sounds of sleep. Even with your superior hearing you couldn’t really make out much, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t already knocked out.

“Ghost,” you said, hoping your voice would pierce through the door just enough to hear. “Are you asleep yet?”

A moment passed. 

“Did you have another bloody thought about that movie?” came his bleary reply.

You grinned to yourself and opened the door, revealing Ghost propped against his pillows and sitting on his phone with the dull lamp on. His hair was fluffy with static, and his eyes betrayed his tiredness. Contrary to you, he looked like he could fall back and rest the second he could. 

“It’s not about the movie,” you affirmed, closing the door behind you and settling onto the foot of his bed. “I just wanted a minute.”

He grunted over at you, continuing to finish up whatever he was doing on his phone. You clutched your knees in your hands, in the meantime, looking around at all the familiar cracks in the wall and bits and pieces on the floor. It was warm that night, but even so you curled up into something small. 

“Come on up then,” Ghost finally said, chucking his phone to his bedside table before lifting up the sheet. “Might as well get comfy.”

Even worming your way into his sheets felt like a hug, his scent spilling from the cotton as if you were pressed in close to him. However, you remained across from him, propping yourself up on an elbow and looking up at him like a worshipper to a god. His pale chest was revealed now that the covers had shifted, and so while you stared at him your eyes lingered there while your mind whirred, not really sure what to say. 

“I wanted to thank you again for today,” you finally said, looking him in the eyes. “And I wanted to say that I really appreciate everything you do for me. I don’t think I ever would’ve been able to come up with anything like this if you’d have asked me where I’d want to be months ago and I just wanted to say that you’re amazing. I’m not sure what I did to deserve all this, or you, but I’m really glad I got to.”

He blinked syrupy slow and kept looking at you with an easy smile on his face, now turning to meet you in your sideways position. Ghost’s heat now began seeping into you, your heart rate thumping as he pulled you into his orbit. His own pulse danced in your ears and soon you were hypnotised by it, just looking his eyes while he looked into yours.

“You’re too sweet,” he murmured, reaching out and stroking your cheek with his thumb. “I’m glad you had a nice night. Though I’m not someone that you need to worry about deserving, darlin’.”

“Yeah you are,” you said breathily, smile growing.

In a moment of impish fun, you turned your head and pretended to bite his thumb, fastening your two sets of teeth around it and letting the points of your canines graze against his skin. He raised his eyebrows and used his other hand to grab your cheeks, giving you a warning squeeze. You let him go, but his grip still remained on you. 

“What’d I say about you biting me, you little shit?” he said, good humour still written on his face.

“You said you’d bite me back,” you shrugged. 

“Wouldn’t want that now, would you?” he grunted.

“Maybe I do,” you smiled, raising your eyebrows at him again. “What then?”

He shook his head, his teeth on full show from his smile. His full face seemed to glow like white gold, the lamplight casting its rays onto him. Things moved slow then, he got closer to you, breaking the space between you until he was pushed right up against you, releasing your face finally, but still keeping you pinned with arm against your back. He watched you carefully, and you stared right back, breathing slow but expression alight. 

“Feels to me like you’re after something else now,” he said as fact, you both knew it. 

Even if he didn’t need a response, you nodded slowly. Your heart was pounding like a train in your ears, body rattling with stray energy now that you were in a position you’d thought of only in daydreams. For a little second of panic you wondered if this was him about to admonish you of thinking such things. Though he didn’t let you worry long. 

“You sure?” he asked, voice thick with something you couldn’t explain.

“Yes,” you whispered.

He bit his lip, the scar there tightening with the action.

“Ask me.”

“What?” you frowned, shifting back and feeling his hand press into your back. 

“Ask me for what you want. Go on,” he said, an indescribable look crossing his eyes. 

“You want me to ask you for…” you trailed, waiting for him to interrupt, but he didn’t. “I want- for… you to kiss me.”

He chuckled at you stumbling on your words.

“You what now?”

You growled out a frustrated sigh and turned your face into his pillow.

“I want you to kiss me, alright?” you snapped, words muffled in the fabric. 

At that he ushered you out of the pillow and brought his lips to yours. His mouth hot and firm against yours as every little cell in your body seemed to dance. His hands gripped your waist, making sparking little fires dance across your nerves and his body pushed into yours once again. He allowed you to come back into your body, continuing to kiss you gently, until eventually your lips moved with his and soon enough opened so that your tongues could meet. 

A few seconds later and you were parting. Finally catapulting out from a stupor you soon opened your eyes and met his searching ones. Ghost breathed heavily, but then so did you and for a few seconds neither of you said anything. You simply weren’t capable. Your lips felt like they were tingling still. 

“You alright?” 

-🐺-

“Pup are you alright?” Dr. Beale asked, her worried expression dragging you back into the room.

Only then did you realise your chest was pounding and you accidentally squeaked, feeling as though her gaze was seeking out forbidden information. You cleared your throat, pretending that was all you were doing the whole time, and took a sip of your tea, thinking back to the last thing you’d told her.

Of course you’d regaled her about your trip out, about meeting the boy in the food court and going to your movie, however when it came to going home. You figured you’d skip that part. Instead you looked off into the room and shook your head. Your body dispelling the last paranoid nerves that told you she was psychic and knew your every thought. 

“Sorry… I just had a weird dream that night was all. Anyway, basically Ghost is really nice, yeah. What else did you want to know?”

[cjsoleil]

You’re My Angel Baby (Mingi x Reader)

Summary: Y/N goes to a Halloween party and ends up taking care of a cute, drunk cowboy outlaw. Mingi wakes up in the morning with a vague memory of a girl dressed as an angel, and decides he has to meet her.

Halloween night, and somehow Y/N got swindled into joining her best friend, Seonghwa and his boyfriend, Hongjoong, to some party one of their friends planned. It took a lot of convincing, and even more bribery, but she did agree to go. She's dressed in a all white, a flowey long in the back short in the front dress with pure white boots. She put a silver, sparkly and floral headpiece in her hair and beside her sits a pair of fake white angel wings that she’ll put on when she gets out of the car. A cliche yes, but it was a little last minute. She borrowed the wings from a friend.

“Again with the pirate costume Hongjoong?” Y/N teases from the backseat. Hongjoong is wearing a bandana, white jeans, white shirt that is kinda like a blouse and a jacket. Clearly a pirate, “Is that three years in a row now?”

“Shut up.” Hongjoong snaps his usual comeback.

“You should appreciate me more Joongie.” Seonghwa pats the hand resting on his thigh, “I’ve been adapting my costumes to fit yours for years.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“But I want couples costumes!” That’s true, Seonghwa dressed up as a pirate too a few years back, then a parrot, now the mermaid, well, more like siren. He did his make up to suit his look, wearing a sparkly dress with baggy pants and he painted little scales around his ears, neck, and hands. It’s very much a DIY costume, but still very pretty. He’s going to run out of ideas soon. Y/N zones back in to see the car stopped at a red light and the two boys smiling at each other all cute. She groans and wonders how she’s ended up being these two perminate third wheel.

“Do I really have to come?”

“Sorry dear.” Seonghwa coos and looks back at his friend, “But we need a sober driver.”

“Besides. Your a nursing student, you can stop people from dying from alcohol poisoning.” Hongjoong adds.

“I cannot. You better not bring some shit faced frat boy to me and expect me to take care of him. Or her. Anyone. It’s not my job to take care of people outside my placement.” Because Y/N is not interested in dealing with whatever asshole drank too much. If they get alcohol poisoning from being stupid, it’s not anyone’s problem but their own.

“Whatever you say ratchet.”

“I’ll show you ratchet, Hongjoong.”

“Be nice you two.”

At the party, Y/N makes sure to stay close to Seonghwa and Hongjoong, and she smiles pleasantly at the people they talk to. Luckily it’s not all bad, Jongho and Yeosang are there too, so at least there’s some people she knows. She watches over her friends while they drink, making sure they don’t do anything very stupid. She can condone a little stupidity. It’s all very boring. She doesn’t have a lot of people that she can talk to, and she doesn’t have anything to really do. There’s some people dancing on the open floor, but she’d honestly rather die than become involved with that. On the bright side, someone had the decency to provide food. So after telling her friends, she wanders into the kitchen area and looks at what they have. There’s candy in a big bowl on the counter, and obviously a shit ton of alcohol she’s not able to drink, nothing great. She wishes they had cinnamon doughnuts or something, when a plate on the counter further away catches her eye.

“What the hell!” She whispers shouts, going over and grabbing an candy apple. There very clearly bought by an actual place that knows how to make them based off how well made they are. So she eats one. Or four. Who knows. Fuck she wishes they had a caramel apple too. Those are the best fall treats.

Someone else wanders into the kitchen, Y/N ignores him. Then the sound of glass breaking catches her attention. She turns her head to see a boy dressed as a cowboy staring at the broken cup on the floor, the cupboard at his head is open. He’s wearing a hat and a mask that covers the bottom half of his face, a leather jacket and tight pants. Despite not seeing much of his face, the boy is clearly drunk based off his heavy movements and pink ears. He’s also, Y/N must admit, very attractive. Maybe it’s the effect of the mask, but she just knows a pretty face hides under the mask. She watches as he kneels down, about to pick up the glass.

“Stop.” The boy looks up at her, stopping his movement, “Stay still. You're going to hurt yourself.” After making sure the boy is actually listening to her, Y/N looks around the kitchen for a broom or something. She doesn’t end up finding one, but she does find a rag, so she goes back to the boy, rag in hand just to see him with large pieces of glass in his hand.

“What did I just say?” Y/N sighs and cleans up the glass around the man and taking the piece from his hand, throwing it all out. She goes back to the still kneeling cowboy and crouches next to him, seeing his hand is bleeding. She cringes, not because of the blood, she’s used to that, but just because she imagines it hurts.

“Look at this. You should have listened to me.” She scolds, and the boy has enough sense to be ashamed, looking down.

“Sorry Angel.” He says, speech a little slurred and she can tell he’s pouting behind the mask, “Help me? Please?” Y/N sighs, looks like she’s playing caretaker tonight after all. At least he seems to be nice. She helps him stand up, which is a little hard because he’s much bigger than her.

“What’s your name?”

“Mingi.” She introduces herself as well.

“Well Mingi, let’s get to a bathroom so you can stop bleeding all over the place.” Y/N walks with Mingi, keeping a hand on his back and stabilizing him when he stumbles. Mingi cups his good hand under the bleeding one, but a few drops still get on the floor. She just ignores it, not her problem.

Y/N notices that people are watching her and Mingi, but she just gives them a dirty look when they catch her eye.

“People need to mind their business.” She mumbles, looking around for wherever the bathroom could be. She doesn’t just want to open random doors. More out of fear of being traumatized than out of respect for the homeowners privacy. She doesn’t even know whose party this is, it wouldn’t matter if she chose to snoop a little. Well, that’s a little hypocritical considering what she just said.

“There.” Mingi points to a closed door and Y/N opens it to see a bathroom.

“Okay, wash your hand and go sit on the toilet while I look for a bandage.” Mingi obeys and Y/N rifles through the medicine cabinet. She grabs bandages and isopropyl, as well as a cotton ball.

“Hold out your hand cowboy.”

“Outlaw.” She hears him mumble as she dips some of the isopropyl onto the cotton ball.

“Hm?”

“Outlaw, not cowboy.” Y/N smiles, and gently grabs Mingi’s hand.

“Outlaw, this may sting a bit.” She plays into his words, because what is the harm? While she doesn’t know the difference between an outlaw and a cowboy, she’s not about to start an argument over it. Mingi only cringes a little when he feels the disinfectant. Then Y/N grabs the roll of bandages, wrapping his hand. Mingi stares at her as she works.

“Pretty Angel.” He mumbles out, and Y/N just barely catches it.

“What a charmer.” She laughs, not taking the words of a drunk man seriously. After a few more moments, she’s done with the bandage.

“There.” She pats his hand a few times, “Now there won’t be blood all over the place. Well, anymore blood. I feel bad for whoever has to clean that up.” She laughs and he looks up at her, staring with wide eyes. He keeps his hand held out to her, “What is it?”

“Kiss it better.”

“Huh?”

“Kiss it better please?” Now, anyone else and she would’ve said no instantly and walk away. But Mingi seems so genuine. And he’s so cute and sweet. So Y/N gives a quick kiss to the palm of his bandaged hand.

“Better?” Mingi nods excitedly. He’s still wearing his mask. He should probably take that off, what if he throws up?

“Mingi. Take off your mask please.” Mingi nods and lifts his good hand to his face, tugging at the fabric. But he doesn’t actually do anything efficient. Just how much did he drink? Finding this a little pathetic, Y/N decides doing it herself would be better.

“Mingi, how about I help you?”

“Sure.” She gets the mask off quickly, fingers just grazing against Mingi’s hot ears.

I was right she thinks when she sees Mingi’s face fully, he is hot. Okay, the stares make more sense now. She puts the mask on the sink.

“Thank you Angel.” He says, smiling at the girl.

“You do know that’s not my name right?” Based off Mingi’s confused look, it’s clear he does not understand that.

“Whatever. Do you have a friend to watch over you?”

“Yunho.” Mingi answers, a name Y/N is somewhat familiar with, “but he left. Don’t know where he is.” Y/N is irritated hearing that. Mingi’s friend just abandoned him while he’s clearly not in his right mind, what if someone took advantage of him? Or if he drank more and got alcohol poisoning, or made the stupid decision to drive? When this Yunho comes back, she’s going to give him a strong lecture on how to treat your intoxicated friends.

“We can hang out until he gets here then.” Mingi looks happy hearing that, smiling brightly.

“Thank you Angel.”

“You are so polite.” Y/N comments, and gives into her urge to pat his cheek gently. Then she helps him stand up again, but when he’s standing, Y/N notices that he looks a little off. She’s about to ask about it, but then she hears Mingi make a gagging sound.

“Shit!” She lifts the toilet seat and pushes Mingi to sit, just in time. Mingi throws up in the toilet, and Y/N rubs his back sympathetically. She takes off his hat and holds it in her other hand.

Once the sickness passes, Mingi leans back and is panting and sweating a little.

“Poor guy.” Y/N puts the hat on his lap before opening the drawer under the sink, grabbing a rag. She runs it over cold water and rings it out, before going back over to Mingi. She holds his chin and wipes his face gently. He hums in content.

“Feels good.” He hums again, Y/N compares him to a happy cat. When she’s done, she wets another rag and lays it over the back of his neck. She lets him be for a while, wanting the nausea to pass before even trying to move him again.

“Hey Mingi.” He looks over to her, blinking tiredly, “I’m gonna go do something real quick-“

“Noo.” Hands grab her wings, tugging at the fake feathers, “Don’t go.”

“It will only be for a minute.”

“Angel, stay with me please.” Y/N is left standing still. The sentiment means a lot more than it should, coming from a drunk man. She sighs, wondering whatever made her so soft hearted. Seonghwa and Hongjoong will just have to wonder where she is for a while. So she grabs the mouthwash from under the sink and fills the cap half way, giving it as well as a small cup she found for Mingi to spit in. When he does so, she cleans out the cup in the sink. Curse her for being so nice. And curse Mingi for being so cute. If he wasn’t, she probably would’ve just cleaned up his cut and let him be.

Okay, maybe she isn't really nice.

“Okay cowboy- sorry, outlaw.” She then clicks her tongue with though, “What am I going to do with you?”

“Want to go to my room.”

“Your room? Do you live here?” Mingi nods, stretching his neck.

“Yeah. With my roommates.” Well this makes things a little easier. She will simply bring Mingi to his bedroom so he can sleep this off, and he’ll wake up in the morning without any recollection of her, or anything else that happened tonight. As well as a massive hangover. He’ll probably have to skip class tomorrow, if he has any.

“Wait, do you know where you got those candy apples- actually don’t answer that. Are you feeling better?” Mingi nods, and Y/N squints her eyes at him, “Are you sure? Is your head dizzy, stomach hurting?”

“M’okay.” Well, he is definitely looking more alive than before, so Y/N choses to believe him.

“Up we go then.” She holds out her hands and Mingi grabs them, allowing her to hoist him up until he’s standing. Honestly, she’s pretty proud of herself for being strong enough to do that. When he’s stable, Y/N walks him down the hall until he points to a door, and tells her it’s his bedroom. She opens the door, and quickly ushers him to sit on his double bed that takes up most of the room. She understands the need though, he would never fit in a twin bed like her own.

“Tired Mingi?” The boy yawns in response, making her laugh. She helps Mingi with taking off his shoes and jacket, and Mingi takes off his own shirt.

Oh my god. Y/N has to stop himself from saying the words out loud. She can’t help it, he’s just so so hot. Like seriously, his face was beautiful enough as it is and his body- nope she can’t even think about it without feeling like a pervert. So she quickly pulls back the covers of the bed and gestures for Mingi to lay down there. Then she pulls the blankets over him. She stays standing beside the bed.

“There’s a place downtown that makes them.” Mingi says into the blankets.

“Makes what?”

“The apples. I don’t like sweet stuff very much, but I thought they’d be nice.” He yawns, “Expensive though.”

“I thought so.” Y/N laughs, before whispering playfully, “I’m pretty sure I ate like, half of them though. Sorry about that.”

“Did you like them?”

“Very much.”

“Then it was worth it.” Mingi smiles up at the girl, before patting the side of his bed. Y/N takes the invitation and sits.

“Sorry.”

“For what?”

“Ruining your night.” Y/N smiles, and pets Mingi’s dark hair. She had already put his hat on his nightstand.

“Believe me or not, but this was the best part of my night Mingi.” And really, it was. She’s not into parties, nothing about them is appealing to her. As much as she complained about it to her friends earlier, this was a much more pleasant experience.

“Angel.”

“Yes?”

“You’re so beautiful. And kind.” Mingi lifts a hand, grabbing her arm and really underestimated his strength, pulling the girl on top of him. Letting out a yelp, Y/N plants her hands on the sides of Mingi’s head on the pillow. This leaves their faces only inches apart, and Y/N can smell the alcohol on Mingi. That makes her break eye contact with him and start to push her arms upwards. Before she can get far, Mingi cups her face with one hand, thumb under her chin and fingers splayed out on her cheek. The action puts her in such a state of shock, she doesn’t react in time to move away from him as he lifts his head up, pressing his lips to hers.

Her eyes widen and she quickly pulls away before the kiss can be considered anything more than a peck. Mingi whines when she pulls away.

“Mingi, no.”

“Why not?”

“Why not?” She parrots, frowning a little, “You don’t even know who I am.”

“You’re my Angel baby.” He grins, lets out a little laugh before surging forward, kissing her again. Her mouth opens a little in surprise at being kissed again, giving Mingi the chance to push his tongue into her mouth, the taste of cheep beer still present. And Y/N is just disillusioned enough to lean in for a moment, and she probably would have actually reciprocated if her mind was any more fogged up from a simple kiss. But she’s not about to kiss someone who can’t possibly understand what they’re doing. Maybe kiss someone more would be more accurate.

So she pulls away again, this time pushing a hand on Mingi’s chest to keep him laying down flat on the bed. Mingi groans a little, a complaint, but doesn’t say much more. Until out of nowhere, he mutters.

“We should go out tomorrow.” Only a little fazed, Y/N shakes her head at the question.

“Honey, you’re probably not going to be able to stand properly tomorrow. Just go to sleep.” She continues to pet Mingi’s head, until she’s sure that he’s asleep. Standing up, she grabs the trash can in the corner of the room and puts it next to the bed. Then she grabs a sticky note from his desk and a pen. She writes a quick note, puts it on the nightstand before leaving the room, making sure to close the door as gently as he can.

The party is dwindling down, Y/N notes. So she easily finds Seonghwa and Hongjoong.

“Where were you?” Seonghwa asks when he sees her, “I was worried sick!”

“Sorry Hwa.”

“What were you doing?” Hongjoong questions.

“Playing nurse. Are you ready to go?”

“What happened to ‘I’m not taking care of some drunk loser’?”

“I guess he changed my mind.”

“He?” Seonghwa grins, making Y/N get this sudden feeling of dread, “Who was it? Was he hot? Was he nice to you? Of course he was, you would’ve kicked him to the curb if he was mean-“ Seonghwa trips over nothing, Hongjoong just catches him.

“Careful baby.”

“Thanks Joongie.” Seonghwa leans over and kisses the younger boy. Y/N pretends to gag.

“Wait, why is your face so red?”

“Let’s just go! Please.”

“Fine. You have to tell us all about this guy though!”

“Yeah yeah.”

When Mingi wakes up, he instantly wishes to be asleep again. His head hurts, and he feels so sick he can barely move. God, he shouldn’t have drank so much last night. He sits up, only to be hit with a wave of nausea that has him nearly doubled over.

“Fuck…” he takes a few deep breaths before standing up, groaning as he does so. He notices the trash can by his bed, and wonders how he had enough sense to grab that. Yunho must have moved it for him. His jacket, shoes and shirt are off, as well as his hat. Yunho must have done that too. He takes off his shirt and puts on a pair of sweatpants before heading to the bathroom.

When he comes out, he goes to the living room where Yunho greets him.

“Hey man-“

“Shhh.” Mingi holds his head in his hands as he sits on the couch, “Too loud.” Yunho’s voice was really just barely above a whisper.

“How much did I drink yesterday?”

“I stopped counting after the second beer and the third shot.”

“I swear Yunho, I’m never getting drunk again.” He looks down at his bandaged hand, and tries to recall exactly what he did to hurt himself.

“What happened to my hand?”

“How would I know?”

“Weren’t you the one that wrapped it?” Yunho stares at him with a surprised face.

“Damn, do you really not remember anything from last night?” Mingi shrugs.

“Pretty much.”

“Well, I left around half way through with a few others to grab some beer and you insisted that you stay here. You kept on saying ‘I’m feeling great’ so I just told you to be careful and left. By the time I came back, you were tucked into bed and sleeping like the dead.” Mingi nods along, realizing he can’t rely on Yunho to fill in the blanks of his memory.

“Wait actually, I saw a note on your nightstand.”

“Did you?”

“Yeah. Didn’t read it though.”

“Okay. Can you get me some painkillers or something?”

“Sure.” Mingi goes to his bedroom and there on the nightstand, is a bright pink sticky note. He grabs it and reads the words in black ink.

Hey Mingi,

I can imagine you have quite the hangover today, you were pretty drunk last night. Make sure to clean that cut of yours and wrap it up again, though it will probably be all healed in a few days (The power of a little kiss). Maybe I’ll see you around. Anyways, take care outlaw.

Yours, Angel.

Angel. Images of a woman with no clear face fills his mind. White feathers, the feeling of warm lips on his palm and a hand running through his hair.

Mingi comes out of his room, still holding the note.

“Yunho, did you see anyone dressed as an angel yesterday?”

“It was Halloween. Many people were. Why?”

“The girl that took care of me dressed as one. But I can’t remember her name.”

“What did she look like?”

“Uhh..” Mingi sheepishly scratches the back of his neck, “She was pretty? Look, I’ll know her when I see her.”

“Does that really matter?” Yunho asks, tilting his head, “I mean, yeah, I get that she took care of you. That was very nice of her, but do you have to meet her?”

“Of course I do.” Mingi lays back down on rhe couch, closing his eyes.

“Oh my god you have a thing for her. You have a thing for a girl who’s name you do not know, you don’t know what she looks like and know nothing about her as a person.”

“Not true.” Mingi objects, “I know she’s sweet, pretty, angelic.” Mingi snorts, “Oh, and that she likes candy apples.”

“Whoa Mingi, sounds like it’s time to pop the question to Miss Angel.”

“I wish she would’ve left her number.” Mingi complains, placing a pillow over his face.

“Well, I’ll ask around if anyone knows her, but it’s gonna be hard without knowing anything about her.”

“Thanks Yunho.”

“I’m heading to class, you staying in?” Mingi nods slightly, “Thought so. Painkillers are in the kitchen.”

“Thanks Yunho. See ya.”

“Later.”

The next day, Mingi actually does go to school. He was hoping that miraculously, Angel would be in one of his classes. Unfortunately, this was not the case for him. Yunho, like he said, mentioned her to some people but at last, no luck. Really though, he didn’t expect more. At the moment, he’s at a cafe near campus with Hongjoong and San, doing a little group review.

“Where’s your other half?” San questions Hongjoong, wondering where the older boy is.

“He’s in the library.”

“And you left him alone?” Hongjoong rolls his eyes.

“I would’ve followed, but Seonghwa said that I couldn’t since he and ratchet were studying for biology I think.”

“Ratchet?” Mingi questions.

“Y/N. Seonghwa’s nursing friend.”

“That is so mean of you.” San says, shaking his head at Hongjoong nicknaming this poor girl after a crazy murderous nurse. Mingi finds the name a little familiar, but he can’t put his finger on it, so he doesn’t question it.

“You weren’t in class yesterday.” San states.

“Yeah, i had this massive hangover. Felt dead.”

“What happened with your hand?”

“I don’t remember, but I think I cut it on a piece of glass or something.”

“Damn, you really were wasted.” Mingi can only agree.

“Please please please please-“

“Seonghwa.”

“Y/N please just tell me about this guy.” Seonghwa begs, shaking Y/N’s shoulders. She was supposed to tell him on the way home from the party, but he fell asleep right away. And yesterday they were too busy, “You don’t even need to tell me who it was.”

“Fine.” Y/N relents, shutting her text book, “He was tall, handsome and sweet.”

“Oh!” Seonghwa puts his hands over his heart, “All one could want in a man.”

“You only have two of the three.” Seonghwa kicks her but is still laughing.

“He asked if he could go out with me?”

“What? You said yes right?” Y/N shrugs.

“I didn’t say anything. It was just talk anyways. He was drunk.”

“Either way, you should have left your number with him.”

“No point, he didn’t even know my name. Just called me Angel the whole night.”

“That is so cute but unhelpful.” Seonghwa sighs, “What did you guys even do?” She tells her friend about the boy cutting himself by accident and having to clean up his cut, and tuck him into bed.

“So cute.” He analyzes his friend for another moment, “What aren’t you telling me?”

“Nothing.”

“Liar. I can tell. What’s up?” Y/N dramatically groans and puts her heads in her hands, mumbling her words, “Excuse me?”

“We may have… kissed.”

“You kissed!” Seonghwa exclaims, Y/N is quick to shush him.

“Shut up!”

“Sorry this is just crazy to me.”

“What is? That guys only want to kiss me when they’re drunk?”

“Ha. Who initiated it?”

“Him obviously.”

“Come on! Give me the details.” Y/N can’t refuse.

“He kissed me, I said that was irresponsible, he kissed me again and fell asleep like five minutes after.” Seonghwa aw’s as Y/N dramatically rests her head on her arms.

“Wait, is this not cute? Were you not okay with it? If not, I’ll find him and beat him up.” Y/N looks up at him, “Fine, Hongjoong will beat him up.” A long pause, “Jongho will beat him up.”

“There you go. But no, it was… fine? Really, If he was sober, I probably would have actually kissed him back.” Though if he was sober, she’s sure neither of them would have paid the other any mind whatsoever.

“You know if you tell me his name I could probably find him and you set you guys up.”

“Are you trying to get rid of me?”

“Noo.” Seonghwa pulls the girl into a hug, “We love you.”

“If you do, can we stop talking about this and study.”

“Fine. I have to go soon though, I said I’d meet up with Hongjoong later. Would you like to accompany us?”

“Ew.”

“You won’t be saying that when you and mystery boy get together. We can go on a double date!”

“Stop pushing your couple agenda on me.”

After a few hours of studying at the café, the two boys start to back up their bags to leave. San has already left. They hear the bell at the door ring, and Mingi’s sees Seonghwa make his way towards the table.

“Hey Joongie.” Seonghwa greets Hongjoong, leaning down to kiss his cheek before saying hi to Mingi.

“How are you guys?” He asks while sitting down.

“Good.” “Slightly hungover.” Seonghwa snorts at Mingi’s comment. But his laughter stops when he sees the bandage on Mingi’s hand.

“Hey, what happened with your hand?” Mingi looks down at his hand.

“I think I cut it on something, but I don’t really remember.”

“Huh.” Seonghwa hums for a moment before his eyes lighten up.

“Mingi, do you remember anything from your party?”

“A little bit yeah, why?”

��Did you spend anytime with a girl there? She-“

“Angel?” Mingi asks, wide eyed. He was planning to ask Hongjoong about her before they left.

“She was dressed as an Angel yes!” Seonghwa claps his hands in joy, “I’m so smart, I thought this would take longer to figure out.”

“Ohh.” Hongjoong says, just clueing in, “Mingi was the guy Y/N watched over at the party? Man, you didn’t tell me that.”

“I didn’t know who she was! I was gonna ask you if you knew a girl dressed as an angel.”

“Small world.” Seonghwa smiles, “She said you asked her out, is that true?”

“I really don’t know, sorry Hwa.” Mingi runs a hand through his hair, “But I’d love to actually meet her, thank her in person at least. Could you give me her number?” Seonghwa shakes his head.

“No, she’d be upset if I did that.” Patting the table, Seonghwa thinks, “but… if you did happen to run into her outside class, well that would be fate.”

“Would you?”

“I’ll text you her next class right now.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. You’d be good together.”

“What?”

“Let’s go Hwa, bye Mingi.” Hongjoong and Seonghwa leave, and Mingi choses to ignore Seonghwa’s comment.

He leaves the café and starts walking back to his place. The street he’s on has a ton of little shops and bakeries, so he window shops a little as he makes his way. The a sight makes him stop. There in the window, is a display case of different candy apples. A picture plays in his mind, of a pretty girl in an Angel costume eating the candied fruit in his kitchen. His phone buzzes from his pocket, and he pulls it out and sees a text from Seonghwa. He texted the younger the building, classroom number, as well as the start and end times.

Are you sure she won’t mind?

It’s fine! Tell her I sent you

I’m glad I can blame you

Great. Have fun ;)

Mingi looks at the display case again, before stepping inside.

I hate kinesiology Y/N thinks as she steps out of her classroom. She makes her way out of the building, weaving through the crowd of people. When she’s outside, just a few meters away from the building door, she feels someone tap her shoulder. Turning around, she sees a sight she wasn’t expecting to see so soon.

“Mingi?”

“Hi Angel.” Mingi grins with a small blush on his face, one hand held behind his back.

“Isn’t this a surprise.” Y/N can’t help but smile.

“Yeah, um, I just wanted to thank you for taking such good care of me the other night. You didn’t have to.” Y/N shakes her head, waving a hand in the air.

“No problem. I’m surprised you remember me.” Mingi blushes more, and shifts his feet.

“Well, I kinda didn’t. But I saw your note and remembered a girl dressed as an angel, but not what you looked like.”

“Hm.” Y/N hums, and crosses her arms, shifting her weight to her right leg, “Disappointed?”

“God no.” Mingi answers immediately, “You’re pretty.”

“You said that.”

“Did I?”

“Multiple times. Thank you. How do you know who I am though? If you didn’t know what I looked like.” Mingi looks a little flustered and avoids eye contact.

“I ran into Seonghwa and he figured that you were the one who took care of me because of, well, this.” He lifts his own bandaged hand, “He told me your name and that you were here and that your class would be ending around this time so I came by to see if I could catch you. And I knew I would recognize you once I saw you. Even without the wings.” He spoke so fast, Y/N barely caught all of his words.

“I see. How’s the hand?”

“Good, uh, I was wondering what you meant, by your note?”

“The kiss comment?” Y/N laughs uncomfortably, pulling at the ends of her hair, “Well, um, you did ask me to kiss your hand better…”

“And?”

“You- don’t be upset please- you did kiss me. Twice.” Mingi looks ready to combust from the embarrassment he’s feeling.

“I did? Fuck, Y/N I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. You were-“

“Please don’t say I was drunk. That’s no fucking excuse.” Y/N smiles softly.

“Fine. I forgive you.” Mingi laughs.

“You shouldn’t give in so easily. Here.” He pulls the box from behind his back and presents the caramel apple to her.

“For you.” He tells her, watching as the girl gives him an expression of pure joy.

“You-“ Y/N starts, taking the boxed caramel apple from Mingi’s hand, “Are the sweetest.” It seems that Mingi remembered a little more than she thought.

“Seonghwa said that I apparently asked you out.” Y/N nods in agreement, Mingi takes a deep breath, “I wanted to let you know that the question is still open, I’d love to go out with you.” Silence is all he gets in response. He feels a sense of dread in his stomach, but that soon leaves when he actually looks at the girl to see that she looks… flustered?

“Really? Um, yeah that- that would be nice.”

“And…” Mingi takes a breath, stepping closer to the girl. He slowly lifts his hand and rests it in the nape of her neck.

“If it’s not too much to ask, could I get a little reminder of what I forgot?” Blood rushes to Y/N’s ears and her heart beats faster. She brings her hands to his shoulders, grabbing onto the fabric of his shirt.

“I suppose I can.” Mingi leans down and brings his face close to the girl. Before his lips can meet hers though, Y/N covers his mouth with her hand, “Not now.” Mingi grabs her wrist and kisses the palm of her hand.

“After an actual date.” Where I don’t witness you throw up. She doesn’t say that know. She doesn’t want to embarrass him too much just yet. With a quick motion of his wrist, Mingi links their hands and brings them down.

“Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“On a date. Duh.” Y/N grins.

“Aw, our first, completely sober date!”

“I’m never drinking that much again.”

When Halloween rolled around the next year, Mingi did, in fact, drink that much again. It’s okay though, he still had an angel to take care of him.

[amuyyi]

she wants me (to be loved) .

synopsis; you have always loved huh yunjin, but not in the way she loved you.

trope; huh yunjin x f!reader, angst, unrequited (?) love, bittersweet ending

wc; 4.6k

cw; idk like one cuss word LMAO

a/n; i swear im still in forever writers block but THIS FIC IS INSPIRED BY THE SHE WANTS ME TO BE LOVED WARRIOR CATS AMV ON YOUTUBE ITS ABOUT BLUEFUR AND THRUSHPELT PLEEEEK WATCH IT AND/OR LISTEN TO THE SONG WHILE READING IM JUST SO ARRGGHHH also its almost 4 am i am half asleep i just realllyy wanted to finish this. also i used to be a theatre kid so.

You have always loved Huh Yunjin. But not in the way she loved you.

You recall very vividly the first day you met her.

It was the middle of freshman year of high school, and you had just moved into New York from out of state. Your father had just gotten a new job opportunity, and practically wasted no time packing all of your things to move in the middle of the school year. Perfect. New place, new faces, and definitely no friends. Everything an emotional teenage girl needed in a cruical stage of her development. All of the other students in your classes were nice enough, but everyone already had their established friend groups by now, and you simply didn't fit what they were looking for.

Despite the different environment, there was one thing that this school provided that provided some sort of familiarity.

Theater.

Back in middle school and for the brief semester you had in your old high school, you had always been a fan of the big stage. The music, the dramatics, the acting… It was all so whimsical and alluring to you. How could you not get involved?

(Okay, honestly.. You had gotten really into musical theater in middle school once you found a Hamilton animatic and it became your sole personality trait for a good two years or so–)

Unfortunately, you were too much of a coward to truly put yourself out there like the actors around you. High school insecurities and poor self esteem truly did take its toll on you back then. So instead, you settled for being part of the stage crew. 

You thought that getting involved with a club would make it easier for you to socialize and make friends. You could join a community. Yet somehow, it made everything all the more difficult.

Everybody seemed to already know each other and have their own established friends. On top of that, everyone also seemed to know who they hated as well. You would always overhear what other actors and techies would say about one another and it only just put you off from making friends even more. The whole environment was incredible… cliquey. 

Still, you had nothing else better to do, so you stayed. It was… Fine. You still had no real friends, but you did enjoy doing various tasks around the stage. Working with stage lights, helping prepare costumes, painting backdrops. It keeps you busy. It was routine.

It wasn’t an uncommon sight to walk in on actors practicing their lines or their songs backstage. Back home, you knew everyone involved within the production– including the actors. You would always compliment them and occasionally even provide help whenever you didn’t have your own techy jobs to fulfill. The main problem? This isn't home. Nobody here was your friend.

But when you found a pretty girl practicing for this semester's production of Phantom of The Opera in an empty hallway, you couldn't help but stop in your tracks and stare. You’ve never seen her before. Well, it's not like you bothered to pay much attention to the people around you anymore— but you feel like you wouldn't miss a face like hers.

She had the prettiest brown hair with highlights and the cutest beauty mark near the corner of her mouth. She was pacing around the hall, script in hand as she did various vocal exercises. The sound of her voice echoes off the walls, and it was just as angelic as she looked. 

“Prima Donna, your song shall live again…!” She sings out, her voice at a steady yet powerful vibrato throughout her verse. Her Bel Canto was skilled and practiced, and you can't help but wonder how long she’s been doing this for. Surely she’s overqualified for a simple high school production? You needed to hear more…

She moves her hands in elegant and dramatic forms as she immerses herself into the self-centered character of Carlotta. She played the roke perfectly, considering how most definitely had your attention now.

 “You took a snub, but theres a public who needs you, think of the cr—“

A loud thud rings throughout the hallway, startling the mystery opera singer as well as yourself. Shit. You look down and see the culprit. Well, it was you. you caused the interruption— but more specifically, it was a freshly decapitated mannequin head with a wig you were going to more securely attach to the top. It was a bit of a horrific sight, in all honesty.

Now that you think about it, this prop might actually be for her. Though you didn't have much time to ponder that thought considering the mysterious brown haired beauty has now caught you eavesdropping on her singing.

The head rolls across the tile floor and lands at her feet. You feel your face warm to what was most likely a bright tomato red as she picks it up by its shortened neck, the wig threatening to fall off as it dangles limply off of the top of its head.

“I'm assuming this is yours?” She smiles kindly at you, though a bit wary. Understandable, really. You would be wary of yourself too if you were in her shoes.

“Y-Yeah, sorry…” you nervously laugh, taking the head from her hands as you try to pat the wig back into place. 

“You sounded good, by the way!” You quickly stammer out, absentmindedly hugging the head to your chest, “Like… really good. Seriously.”

The mystery girl laughs at your flustered words, and she waves her hand dismissively. Her cheeks warm bashfully as she shakes her head.

“Thanks but… I have a lot to work on. My tones off, and I still need to memorize these lines by tomorrow…” she trails off, moving to press her back against the wall, sliding and sitting down on the floor.

Fiddling a bit with the mannequin head, you don't allow yourself to think too hard before you suddenly blurt out.

“I-I can help!”

You watch as her pretty brown eyes widen slightly, and

“Really? You sure you arent too busy?

You were actually quite busy, but she didnt have to know that.

“Of course not,” you lie confidently, sticking a hand out, “I’m y/n.”

She eyes your hand curiously, but ultimately shakes it, “Yunjin. Jennifer, if you’d like.”

From then on, you would spend every other day after school with Yunjin, helping her recite her lines, fitting her for costume changes, and even finishing that mannequin head prop for her.

Soon after, your after school hangouts turned into out of school hangouts and then eventual sleepovers every weekend. You learned everything possible about Yunjin. Like how she had always dreamed of being a performer, how she wanted to make it big in the Kpop industry, how she loves snakes…

Since then, you knew you loved her.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

On one seemingly normal spring afternoon, you were abruptly torn away from your sunkissed siesta with the sound of your door being kicked open.

With the growing bond between you and Yunjin, you made the mistake of giving the girl a spare key to your own home. (Oddly enough, your parents werent against the idea. They considered Yunjin like a second daughter.)

You whine out as she grasps at your half asleep form, shaking you aggressively.

“I got accepted into a company, y/n!! I'm gonna be a trainee!”

Eyes shooting open, you try to sit up through the aggressive grip Yunjin had on you.

“No kidding?” You croak out, looking at her with disbelief.

“I'm not!” She cheers, bouncing happily through your bedroom. Trying to match her energy through the grogginess, you slip out of bed, stumbling a bit as you tumble into her arms. Yunjin laughs at your state, wrapping her arms around your waist to keep you steady as she jumps excitedly.

“I’m  going to move back to Korea next month— this is so exciting!!” She squeals out, and your smile falters ever so slightly. Move? To Korea?

Still, you bite back the sickly feeling developing in your stomach as you squeal alongside her.

You were happy for her, and did nothing but support her all throughout her time in Korea. Called her every night after training, sent her pictures of school life without her, even voting for her in that odd survival show she participated in. You did anything and everything you could to be the best friend you could be.

Yunjin always had the stars in her eyes. But in yours? There was only ever her. 

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

The day that everything truly changed is still fresh in your mind.

After spending years chasing after Yunjin, it feels like you have finally caught up to her. She's back in the states after her time in Korea, and she's planning on staying. She looked a little different than before, but it was the same old Jennifer you knew and loved— even when missing a few moles and deeper eyebags.

Upon her arrival back home, it was like no time had passed. Once again attached at the hip, as it should be. You practically made it your job to crawl into her skin at any given moment and to pamper her with all of her favorite things. 

You would treat her to meals, spontaneous shopping sprees, and simple girls nights out. All of the good stuff to make up for lost time. Unfortunately, your attempts to keep your best friend happy came with their own obstacles. you would occasionally find advertisements or clips of idols that would show up during your time together, and for just a brief moment, you would see that usual spark within Yunjin’s eyes falter. It was a stark reminder of what she could have had.

It hurt you to see her get reminded of her time as a trainee. It truly was everything she wanted and more. But it was okay, you were here now, and you weren't planning on letting her go this time.

You’d drop any and everything for Yunjin. You allowed her to vent whenever she needed, to come over whenever she wanted, and to indulge in spontaneous late night meals whenever you two felt like it.

Needless to say, your wallet was crying by the time summer was nearing its end, but you didn’t mind at all. Yunjin was back. She was happy. You were happy. Things were finally returning to normal.

The two of you decide on a college to attend together in Boston, both pursuing a major in business. It's neither of your first choices in majors, but it's a good enough money maker in the long run. 

The pair of you sat in Yunjins bedroom, with you comfortably propped up against her bedframe on the floor whilst the brunette lay comfortably on the mattress. You hugged the  djungelskog plushie you had gifted Yunjin some birthday ago close to your chest as you atared at your phone, with Yunjin crunching away on cheez-its as the entire La La Land soundtrack softly plays from the record player in the corner of the room. 

Its nearly less than a month until move in day at Boston University, and you feel beyond giddy. Actual independence? And spending it with your best friend slash secret crush? Your dreams were coming true. Looking through your college dorms on the website, the pair of you converse about the future.

“What kind of theme do you think we should go for our dorm?” you ask, leaning your head against the bed to look up at Yunjin, who was still crunching away contentedly at her snacks.

“I'm not sure… But I do know I want to cover my wall with all of my posters…”

“Ooh! Yeah!! I can add fake flowers on the walls…”

“ Of course, we need a bit of girlish charm— oh! we need to make room for a record player and my guitar.”

“Google maps says there's a 7-eleven near the campus…” you murmur, your short attention prompting you to immediately shift to another topic.

“ Should we go got late night snack runs?”

“Duh.”

“Or maybe if we get tired of the dorm food, we can get equally as crappy convenience store food for instead–”

Suddenly, the music from Yunjin’s phone gets cut off, being replaced with her ringtone (it was Come Inside Of My Heart by IV of Spades ) as she huffs.

“ sorry, hold that thought..” She murmurs, answering the call.

You didn't know any Korean, the only bits you’re familiar with are the phrases Yunjin taught you to talk with her parents (which you also butchered) so you naturally begin to tune out whatever she begins to say on her end. Despite this though, you easily pick up on the shift in tone as she speaks. Professionalism, skepticism, to Shock. That was all you could read off of Yunjin as you looked up from your phone, curiously glancing at her. Her eyes were boggling out of her skull, and she placed a hand over her mouth before ending the call.

The brunette remains frozen in place, hand still over her mouth as a silence passes over the room.

“So….?” You ask, crawling up onto the bed to sit next to her.

Yunjin’s voice is shaky, yet laced with a twinge of excitement and disbelief as she speaks, “I just got a call from Hybe. I… I have the chance to debut.”

You don’t know what came over you at that moment. It felt like the world came collapsing down on you. Right now, you should be happy. Jumping for joy, focusing all on Yunjin and her chance for success. She's been given a real chance to make her dreams come true, even after it seemed impossible, even after all the years of rejection and work. This was all she wanted in life and more— you should be happy? Right?

But you’ve always been a selfish person. Or maybe you convinced yourself you were ever since that day. You don’t know. Maybe in that moment, you realized you could lose everything you’ve been waiting for. You’d lose the girl you've chased after for so many years now. If you didn't do something now, you wouldn’t have the chance to do it ever again. You were a greedy person, so you confess.

“Yunjin, I love you. I always have.”

The words feel like a slap to the face, and it shows. It shows in the way her eyes widen and smile falls. This was a bad idea, but you can't back out now. Your eyes begin to water as your voice cracks.

“I… I don’t want you to go— to leave me…” you choke out, “What about uni? Our dorm? What am I going to do without you?”

You knew you were being manipulative, you knew you were being selfish. But you didn’t care. You wanted her to know how you truly felt. You didn’t want her to leave you, not again. Your heart couldn’t handle it.

Through tears threatening to spill out, you can see her cheeks slowly dust a faint shade of pink as she processes your words. She seems… hesitant. Over what? You weren’t too sure. You weren’t too sure if you even wanted to know. 

The silence that washes over the two of you is beyond suffocating. You feel like you’re drowning, digging your nails into your palms as you look away. If you looked at her, you were scared you’d break, and the tears would begin to flow. After a few moments that feel like hours, she finally responds.

“I believe you have feelings for me…” she begins, voice soft yet strained. For some reason, those words leave a bad feeling in your gut. You muster up enough courage to meet her gaze. She looked just as hurt and conflicted as you felt. Yunjins grip on her phone tightens as she takes a deep breath, continuing, “...but I can’t give this up, y/n. It's my dream.”

That was the moment you knew you truly lost her.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

In another life, you and Yunjin would be at Boston University together, pursuing that business degree that neither of you want.

It's a dream that used to occasionally return to you when Yunjin was overseas. Every now and then, you’d wake up in a cold sweat, and you’d check Yunjins location. She’d still be in Seoul. It was okay though, because you knew she’d always come back. She always came back. Now it haunts you every other night.

The dream is always so incredibly vivid and real. You would wake up to Yunjins many alarms that she somehow manages to sleep through every single time, and you’d peel your eyes opened to your shared dorm room. Though you didn’t have much time to admire the beauty of it all through the sound of an alarm continuously dragging you out of your slumber. She’s always been a heavy sleeper. you’d have to jump on Yunjins sleeping form to even stir her into some form of consciousness.

Yunjin groaned in protest, but you knew her. She wasn’t truly bothered, not when it came to you. Instead of entertaining your futile attempts to wake her up, she would wrap her arm around your waist, dragging you down with her as you squeal out.

She's warm. Her brown bobbed hair has grown out by now, black roots peeking through the top of her head as you join the mess that is her bed (and hair.) She smells like vanilla and wood, and you can't help but laugh into her embrace. You’ll be late to the dining hall for breakfast, but it doesn't really matter. There was a 7-eleven nearby that could provide breakfast while the two of you rushed to your classes– in which you had meticulously planned to have almost every single class together.

After a long day of school, you would return back to your dorm both collapsing on your respective beds as exhaustion settles in. It was decorated just the way you two liked it. With both boy and girl band posters littering the walls alongside some fake vines, flowers, and a multitude of polaroids you two have accumulated over the years. 

Once the two of you move out of the dorms and graduate, you’d find an apartment to share. Dual income and no children, that was the way to live. Alongside a cat and a dog, of course. You’d have a black cat named Binx, and a golden retriever named Dug, something you two had discussed many times before. 

It’s beyond perfect. You lay on the couch, comfortably in Yunjins arms as a blanket is lazily draped over your forms. Binx is settled upon your lap as Dug takes up the space on the rug. The tv is playing Coraline— a staple movie for you two, and you'd smile. Yunjin would lovingly return the grin, leaning in to place a soft kiss on your lips.

And then you’d wake up, the grim reality of your situation compared to your dream sending tears flowing down your cheeks. You’re constantly reminded how Yunjin wasn't yours. Not in this lifetime. And it hurt more than anything else.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

You’ve always been there for Yunjin, both before and after she became famous.

In High school, you of course supported her throughout your brief time in the drama club. But you also provided a shoulder to cry on, a free source of math homework answers, a friend.

When she moved back to Korea to become a trainee, you helped her through the rough patches. Hours of dance training, rigorous workouts, and unhealthy dieting took a toll on her. But you were always there through the phone, no matter the time. 

Even after her debut, you remained loyally by her side. Yunjin grew busier and more distant over the years, and it was understandable. You were busy too. With college, internships, and general “adulting,” it was a challenge to remain in contact. Still, when you two did find time to talk, Yunjin would tell you stories of her members, of the rumors and scandals that would plague the group. It hurt to see her hurting, especially knowing you couldn't be there for her like before. But you were glad to see her achieving all she wanted and more.

You hop into one of Yunjins late night livestreams (even if it was the morning for you.) It wasn’t like you couldn’t just call her whenever you wanted, but it was just another one of the little things you would do to continuously support your friend. Yunjin never made a scene whenever you popped in, but always made sure to look for your comments and read them out every single time.

“Sing something from Phantom or you’re lame?” She reads out, a soft laugh slipping past her lips as she does so.

The idol gives the camera a knowing look, one that only could be read by you, and you smile as she clears her throat. Phantom of the Opera is what brought you two together, after all. She spends a few minutes doing short vocal exercises to warm up her voice, and the sight is oddly nostalgic. Yunjin then sits up straight as she begins to sing, and you feel your heart twinge slightly at her song choice.

“Think of me,

Think of me fondly,

When we've said goodbye.

Remember me,

Once in a while,

Please promise me you'll try.” 

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Now here you were, in a completely foreign country, placed in more than accommodating seats within the VIP section of this unfamiliar venue you’ve never even heard of before. There were hordes of men around you, all cheering in a deep voiced mass for the girls on stage. You stuck out like a sore thumb. Yet, there was Yunjin. You watch her, shining brightly on stage whilst donning a fresh head of bright orange hair. It suited her. Her fiery passion, her fierce determination that got her here in the first place, her glowing smile. It was all only a physical expression of who she was on the inside.

Yunjin had insisted on getting you these tickets– even going out of her way to even cover part of your plane ticket here despite you having a very stable and office job now. You tried to tell her you were happy enough to see her from the nosebleed seats in the back, especially since it was all you could afford on such short notice. But she refused, pulling some strings to give you the best seats possible. She wanted you here. More than anyone else.

You’ve seen Yunjin perform before. How could you not? You could vividly recall the way she would sing out and capture the entire crowd’s attention from the stage of your high school’s auditorium. How she would perform with such confidence and precision, how she performed like she was made for this. 

Things have changed a lot since then. There was no business college in your future together anymore. No planned dorms together. No more late night talks. No 7-eleven snack runs. Yet oddly enough, despite the changes, this was seemingly no different than before. Every person in the crowd was entranced, immediately allured by her natural charm and her passionate voice. You included. Just like those many years before, she still managed to have you bewitched on the sidelines while she chases after the spotlight.

So you cheer. Joining the roaring crowd as you call out Yunjins name, a bright smile playing on your lips as you do so. You’ve always been her biggest fan, after all. You swear you saw her make eye contact with you, seemingly providing her an energy boost as she sings out to the audience. She was beautiful, and she knew it.

Once the show is over, you find your way to the backstage area. You tried your best to explain to the security how you were friends with one of the members, and how she invited you back there. Unfortunately, your Korean was less than conversational, and you pretty much looked like an embarrassingly desperate and obsessive fan until Chaewon came and saved the day.

“y/n-nnie! Come, Come!! I saw you in the crowd!!” She chirps out sweetly, abruptly pushing past the guard and dragging you backstage, leaving the security both confused and a bit exhausted. This might not have been the first time the girls have tried to meet with their friends after performances.

There were people everywhere. Stage hands, stylists, makeup artists, and more, all rushing around you two and occasionally praising Chaewon. You felt beyond out of place, and probably looked the part too. Despite having Yunjin as a friend, you’ve never once felt like you were friends with a celebrity. She was simply your Jennifer, and that was more than enough. Being here though, you could truly see the extent of the impact she had on people. How so many people respected her and admired her.

Lost within your thoughts and observations of the crowd, you barely notice when Chaewon lets go of your arm, leaving you to fall victim to a bright orange mass stampeding your way. Without warning, you’re tackled into a hug by none other than Yunjin herself. You swear you see stars as the air gets forced out of your lungs.

“y/n!! You made it!!” She beams, giving you a firm squeeze pulling away to fully take in the sight of you. Her arms are still firmly wrapped around your form as her eyes almost sparkled with pure affection for you. Your cheeks warm at the contact, and you can't help but shyly avoid her gaze. Even after all of this time, she still has the same effect on you. After letting out a soft breath, she quietly murmurs, “I was singing for you, y’know.”

And your heart aches. Aches for what you two could have had. Aches for feelings she chooses not to reciprocate. You want to be angry with her. Despise her for leaving you behind and living this luxurious celebrity life. 

Yet your heart also swells. Swells with pure affection for the girl you love. The way she holds you, how she insists on having you attend, how sweetly she says your name. All of it makes you crumble all too easily. She truly cares for you, and never let the fame change that. You truly were lucky to have her.

“Really, now? You sure you weren't singing for the sea of men you forced me to sit with?” You laugh out, gently shoving her, “I swear I heard a guy say he ditched a family dinner to be there.”

Yunjin loudly laughs at your comment as she shakes her head, “How about you come over to our dorms to celebrate tonight, yeah? We’ll even let you pick a movie – or I’ll make them watch whatever you choose… Please?”

You were a bit hesitant. These were Yunjin’s friends. You didn’t want to intrude, especially after a crazy night like this. Yet, despite your reluctance, Yunjin stares down at you with those damn puppy eyes, and somehow manages to get Eunchae and Chaewon to join in…

“... Okay, fine,” you groan out, feigning disappointment as you see Yunjins eyes light up. “but we’re watching Coraline.”

The girls all cheer and pull you into a tight hug, with Yunjin holding onto you just a bit tighter than the others.

Huh Yunjin loves you. But not in the way you want. Yunjin wants you to be loved. 

And loved you are, even if it means she can't be yours.

[sideeve]

ARKHAM KNIGHT THOUGHT

the lock pick in your hand fumbles and falls out of your palm as you crouch in front of the last door until you saw freedom. "what are you doing, little bunny?" you freeze, your whole body suddenly not being able to move.

the heavy footsteps creep up on you. "i know my little bunny didn't want to leave me, did she?" he stops behind you. you slowly turn around, worried as you see a mini group of militia behind him. the arkham knight eyes the lockpick by your feet before picking it up, twirling it around in his fingers as he examines it.

"where did you get this, bunny?" he turns his head to you, his mask concealing his face. "answer me!" "i-i found it in one of the vents." you stutter. "one of my past bunnies must've left it." he pushes it in one of his many pockets, his attention on you again. "i'm feeling generous. don't disobey me again and we'll have a good day." he pulls you onto your feet again by your chin, his gloved index finger curled under your head.

"i have a meeting soon. i don't trust you to be on your own so you're coming with me." you looked down at your attire. you were wearing a red and black oversized sweater with some black socks. you weren't ready for a meeting. "i-i'm not wearing any good clothes." 'it'll do." he yanks you by your arm close to him.

"do we understand the basis of the mission?" the arkham knight's booming voice sounds throughout the whole room. the militia's eyes were all on you. the arkham knight was known for making abrupt decisions but him bringing you was unpredictable.

your plump ass was fit perfectly on his crotch. every time you tried to adjust your bare thighs on his rough military pants, you could feel his cock hardening. "i'm tired of you teasing me." he seethes in your ear before lifting the bottom of your sweater up to your waist. you hated that he never provided you with underwear. you were always walking around the quarters without any panties. but he loved it. he could take you whenever-wherever and no one could say anything.

he didn't care of how obvious he was being with you. he was so quick to pull out his cock from his fly before bending you over, plunging in you. "you see this?" he chuckles as he hears you whine. "this little bunny has tried to escape. we don't want that. do we, boys?" the room fills with 'no's. the arkham knight grips your waist as you grip his arms, needing to hold something as he abused your cunt in front of his soldiers.

"she's mine. if any of you touch her-shit!" he groans, throwing his head back as he slaps your ass. " you're 's fucking tight." he laughs before continuing his sentence. "if any of you touch her without my permission, i'll kill you." he pulls his gun from his side holder, pointing it around the room.

then his attention averts back to you. he would never admit to anyone but he's growing fond of you. every time he took you, he secretly took notes of what sent shivers down your spine, what made your walls flutter around his length. he yearned to make you feel good during intimate acts. so for you leave him after falling for you left a sick taste in his mouth. "say you love me." he begins to thrust harder. "you're-" he seethes, "you're all dismissed." he had taken notice of his men palming themselves at the sight of him taking you apart.

the men beeline out of the meeting room. most likely rushing to their bunkers to relieve themselves, storing this moment in their spank bank. "say it." his mask was now fully off, the 'J' scar saying hello to you. "i love you..." you moan. you felt a ring of arousal around the base of his cock as you both release, streams of hot white cum painting your walls. "kiss me." he pants. he couldn't get enough of you. he was insatiable.

he shoves his tongue down your mouth, the tip of his tongue not letting any part of your mouth be undiscovered. "you're not leaving me. i'm making sure of it." he pants, putting your cheek as he sees you drift off. "understand me?" you nod, your eyelids heavy. "good. 'cause fucking love you." he huffs, rubbing your ass before pulling out.

[raptorish]

Therianthropy, Unconventional Gear, and Masking Up

Written by Max on December 4th, 2024.

I have theriotype-affirming gear, wereside-affirming gear, and it's even a mask - but it's not a painted and crafted animal mask made to resemble the face of my theriotype. I think those are really neat, from what I've seen on TikTok and other more visual platforms, and the creativity is wonderful! It's just not the same thing as what I've ended up doing - so I thought I'd talk about what I do for species affirmation, to add another voice to the conversation!

See, I'm a velociraptor - and I also talk to my raptorbrain. Wei're a median system, where it spends its time happily as the nonhuman animal part of me. When I'm doing my day-to-day human activities, it dips out of talking to me or interacting with the world around me, because, frankly, it gets bored - it's a nonsapient animal with approximately the worldly comprehension of a cat, which means it doesn't understand things like maths or biochemistry or writing. It would much rather eat a lizard.

In fact, it would rather eat a lizard so bad that it perks back up to shift and chitter and want to stalk-and-hunt when we're outside walking and it sees something that looks like food, like a squirrel or a perching bird or someone's small dog on a leash. And it doesn't like when wei're being annoyed by somebody else, except it would rather not use words and instead growl, hiss, or snap its jaws threateningly in their direction.

This is where the therian gear comes in: single-use disposable face masks. Seriously. That's it.

I wear a face mask for many reasons - avoiding airborne disease if I'm not sick, not passing on a disease if I am sick, warming my nose and air in the cold weather, hiding any embarrassing expressions from strangers, and my private species affirmation.

I wear a face mask because, hilariously enough, it does feel like the closest thing we have to a muzzle made for human jaws - like any well-fitted muzzle, it doesn't restrict breathing or speech, but it does provide a barrier over the mouth. It prevents me from putting anything directly into my jaws, unless I pull it off with my hands.

This feels species-affirming to me, in that I'm both the animal and its keeper. Having a mask on reminds me that I'm an animal, which affirms my nonhumanity, and reminds my raptorside that it's an animal in public, which means it has to be polite and can't go around snapping at annoying people or trying to hunt small animals. It reminds me that I'm the handler, which affirms my humanity, and reminds me that I'm practicing my personal sort of responsible animal management, which means keeping it under control in public so it doesn't growl or snap in a way that negatively disrupts muir lives. Wei take the mask off at home, and can chirp and hiss and make muir odd raptor noises as much as wei want indoors.

As species affirming gear goes, this is completely mundane. I'm not doing anything that makes me stand out, or makes me look outwardly nonhuman, or requires any artistic effort on my end - but it doesn't have to involve any of that. I feel fulfilled in my self as a human animal and as a nonhuman animal, just by wearing a disposable mask. Gear doesn't need to fit any sort of mold; it can be anything you wear that affirms what you are, no matter how odd or small it might seem!

[futureplayboibunnie]

Spiderman Kiss

Miguel O’Hara x fem! Black Cat! reader

part 2 (18+)

it took me so damn long to write this but here we are. a few of y’all wanted a part two with some steamy times so i shall provide (this shit is so long i’m sorryyyy) this man makes it so easy to write angsty smut i swear.

warnings: dirtytalk, pnv, angsty fluffy yet flirtatious idek anymore, finger sucking. jusy filth all together (may god forgive my soul)

You left Miguel. You left him shattered. You left him wanting more. The kiss was still lingering on his lips.

The rain dripped through his hair, the clouds rumbling above him and darkening with every second that passed after you left him. Miguel thought he looked like an idiot dangling upside down watching an empty space that once carried your perfect frame. He was afraid your scent would fade with his memory, he couldn't move- he was stiff with need, sadness, and angst. He was scattered and he was sure the furrow of his brows expressed that tenfold.

Miguel didn't know what to do. He doesn't know what to do with you.

So many questions melded into his head- he wasn't sure if he wanted to follow his brain or his dick. But his gut was telling him to not let you leave right now. There was nothing he could do though. Miguel had to tamper his own desires down, he had to put his other spiders first. He had to put the damn multiverse first. God, he gave up too much to quit now but a part of him wanted to relieve that pressure...he wanted to relieve that pressure with you.

Miguel groaned as he dragged himself out of his head and walked up the side of the building he was on, swinging from building to building taking in the dark horizon as if to reflect his mood, the rain becoming heavier on his back, beating at his mind like a punching bag. Miguel used this time swinging to contemplate what he wanted, it was simple: he wanted you...but he had other responsibilities. The thunder and lightning rocked above him, souring his mood. All he could think about was how stupid he was, falling for someone he couldn't have, someone he shouldn't want. That bleeding heart of his was going to get him killed.

-

You arrived at your apartment before the rain got too heavy and you couldn't conceal the side smile that was painted all over your face- like you were laughing at an inside joke only you knew. Your kiss with Miguel was still tingling on top of your lips and a blush stained your face ever since. It really went against everything you stood for - wanting the good guy. Well, he wasn't known for being that good...but far too much of a goody-two-shoes for you.

Your apartment was gloomy, a blue hue seeped through the windows as you sighed into the cold empty space. You knew if Miguel was here he would obliterate anything in his path, you swallowed hard at the thought. That dull ache crawled back into your lower stomach and the hairs on your neck stood to attention just thinking about him. Jesus. You threw your umbrella into a dark corner before unbuttoning your trenchcoat and throwing it on the back of the couch. Your boots clacked against the hardwood floor as you went to the kitchen to fix yourself a stiff drink- you needed it tonight so you would forget fucking yourself lazily with only Miguel on your mind, you were hoping it would soften the blow of how pathetic you had become over one kiss with a man you were sure would choose the multiverse over you.

Miguel was at your apartment, hanging outside of your window to see if you were there and you just disappeared to the kitchen. He shimmied your window open quietly and crawled inside, slightly surprised that he fit. He stood up and the first thing his eyes caught onto was the mass amount of stolen paintings you were probably pawning off. Oh, bad girl. Very bad indeed. His eyes were fixed on the doorframe, waiting for you to emerge.

You ruffled your hair, walking out to sprawl on your couch and drink the kiss away even though it was already seared to the forefront of your mind. Looking up, your pulse skyrocketed and a gasp fell sharply from your throat. You dropped your damn drink on your floor. Miguel was happy with the response it was apparent with the smirk that painted his face.

‘’What the fuck?’’ You breathed, clutching at your heart to calm your raising chest. It wasn't working. You weren't sure if it was the fact that he scared you half to death or it was that he was here right now when you were about to strip naked and moan all the feelings away. ‘’Why do all Spider-people hate using fucking doors?’’ You questioned brashly as your foot swiped away at the broken shards of glass that adorned your floor, you'll deal with it later. He was your main focus now. It was like you manifested him.

‘’I didn't scare you, did I?’’He boasted and it made you want to kick his stupidly perfect teeth in, rip out his fangs, put them in a frame, and hang it on your wall. He had this smug look on his face and it was like he was reveling in your reaction.

"You didn't.’’ You lamented hard-eyed scowl and all. You stalked up to him like a smiling assassin looking as hungry as ever, a plan obviously forming in your head but he couldn't see through it. Inches were separating you and he had to tamper down the urge to just grab you. 'I wasn't expecting you back so soon.’’ You exhorted, lithe tongue wetting your lips- reaching for the inside joke. Miguel didn't respond, he was too fucking enthralled by your sheer presence to say anything meaningful. Suddenly, your palm went to his chest and pushed down aggressively hard. ‘’Sit.’’ You ordered endearingly, a sugar coating to the venom you were hiding as your eyes went doe. His eyes daren't waver from yours, they were wide and needy...something you never would've associated with Miguel O'Hara. You sat him down on your couch. ‘’I'll be right back.’’

A plan resided within you, you were going to do what you've always seemed to do with him: toy with him, play with him like you would with a cat and laser pen. It was one of the only constants you had with him. You sauntered and disappeared your way to the kitchen and a wicked idea started to form in your head- the more you thought about it, the more insane it was. But you didn't care. Every second you spent with him was just another semblance of your rationality withering away. You wondered if he affected all women like this- on the brink of insanity. The idea of him with another woman made you wince slightly. Instinctively, you kicked off your boots and shimmied out of your dress, also discarding the underwear and bra that covered you. Smiling to yourself, you grabbed another glass and poured out some whiskey for him like a doting housewife.

Miguel's fingers dug into his thighs, his patience wearing thin as the uncertainty and hunger weren't reaching a healthy equilibrium. He didn't like to be kept waiting. He resented it, his tapping foot and hard face were a clear reflection of that. He raked an exasperated hand through his hair and then he heard soft footsteps behind him. Finally. A flash of skin pierced his peripheral...and his mouth popped open, gaping a hole into your face as he drank you in like a thirsting animal. You were naked in front of him, wearing nothing but an innocent smile for a scene so obscenely filthy. You extended your hand to offer him the drink, acting so obviously coy.

‘’Thirsty?’’

Miguel's eyes were glued to yours, his mind was bugged with white noise and static as you stood there so innocently. Oh, you filthy bitch. You fucking liar. It was like time was frozen as he grabbed the glass from your hand. Miguel suddenly stood up, one massive hand grabbed your waist making you stumble back a few steps and the other crushed the glass with the might of his palm, he was surprised that you didn't even flinch but he was adamant about not showing it. You didn't deserve the privilege after toying with him like this: he was fiending for you. Miguel's grip on your waist was piercing and firm, lolling your head back to look into his eyes was a brutal mistake, they were aglow with rage and want that was slightly terrifying but also oddly thrilling at the same time, the sensation clawed at your throat and you were absorbing every second of it.

‘’Now what's all this?’’ He chuckled menacingly, it was like he was assessing you and the sly smile wired on his face was a large indicator of his greed. A clawed finger went to stroke your face. ‘’Hm?’’

‘’I got tired of waiting on you.’’ Surprising yourself with your own ability to breathe when he's touching you like this.

"I can see why that must be... frustrating...for you.’’ His gaze lowered and raked down your naked body, eating you with his eyes like he was a dog starved. “I can taste how wet you are.” Miguel mumbled as his wandering hands traced their way down your body, leaving a pattern of goosebumps in his wake until he reached your aching heat. '”You want me to make it better?” His fingers teased your entrance, waiting for verbal confirmation of how you wanted him to fuck you.

“I don't just want you...Miguel, I need you. I thought you'd know that by now.” You hoped your desperation would make him get the fucking hint. Now he was acting all patient and stretching it out, you just wanted him to play with you. Instead, he retracted his fingers. You shuddered as his warmth left you, the flames of desire were now roaring but all you could give him was a cold look at his callousness.

“Oh, you need me? Que maravilla... You're spoiling me.” He whispered in your ear then pulled back from you.

You gripped onto his suit and pulled him back into you, desperate eyes searching his. “Now give me what I want.” You sounded way more needy than he anticipated and he loved it. “Please.”

Miguel chuckled lowly, his large hand gripping your cheeks to make you pout and he mocked it like you were a whiny kid. “I've always wanted to fuck your face.”

You were too stiff to reply, his fingers dug into your skin and all you could do was moan.

“Would you let me?”

‘’Perhaps you fancy my pure heart, maybe I should feed it to you.’’

‘’Yeah, I'll do that later.’’ His promise was threateningly genuine and it made you gulp. Miguel suddenly grabbed you as if you weighed nothing and threw you over his shoulder, his apathetic palm smacking roughly against your backside as he dragged you to your bedroom, you yelped at his brashness. ‘’Stop squirming baby. Relax for me.’’

Miguel kicked your bedroom door open before you could even give in to his demands. He threw you on the bed, and without a second to lose you sat at the edge of it, you spread your legs wider for him. He grasped your chin so you were directly looking up into his scorching eyes- that look on your face was sinful. Miguel wasn't sure if was a religious man, not after everything that happened to him but if there was a time to believe in God it would be right now. You can't talk or think properly, it was the most ironic thing he's ever witnessed. You were always so...prepared, so intelligent, and challenging, it was interesting to see this side of you. He stood tall between your parted legs and the silence that boomed between you two was crackling through the air, Miguel's face was unamused as his fingers lightly traced your cheek- an odd form of tenderness in comparison to the filthy shit he said to you about 3 minutes ago. It was like it was the mercy before he was about to eat you whole.

‘’Fucking gorgeous.’’ Miguel muttered drunkenly, his darkening gaze surveying you intently as if you were under a microscope. He memorized every detail and frame of your desperate, whiny face. His thumb brushed the soft flesh of your bottom lip, all you could do was blink up at him dumbly. 'Come on...open up for me.' He urged when his fingers teased your lips, you opened your mouth and your tongue welcomed his large fingers, twisting and turning against the skin. A small shiver rippled through his body as you practically drooled over his fingers.

Mine. Was all he could think. Mine. All mine. No one else's. Miguel's heart skipped a little, a spark setting in his chest at the idea.

He was getting more and more impatient the longer you deepthroated his fingers, it was a little harrowing to see his deepest desires turn into a real-life experience. When he kissed you he thought that you wouldn't reciorocate or that you would kill him for even assuming such a preposterous thing, but no. You wanted him. The way he wanted you. If he were a smarter man he would bury the thought of you, he'd let another man want you up close, not from a distance like he does- but he just couldn't. He couldn't let you go and he resented it.

You just gave him a blank look when he retracted his fingers from your mouth, you wondered if his claws would come out when they were in the deep chasms of your throat, you were unsure if he was about to rip your vocal cords out. Miguel's palm instantly pinched at your cheeks again and he full force-bounced you back to lay flat on the bed. He loomed over you, his other hand sliding between your bodies to feel the softness of your skin, a small layer of sweat adding a little sparkle to your already glowing body. Why was he fucking dragging this along? Here you were, naked and wet, ready to be devoured and he insists on taking his sweet time. The multiverse becomes more and more unstable the longer he's with you. The unsettling thought made you frown and Miguel clocked onto it.

“What's with the frown?”

“Too slow, hurry up.” You moaned in his ear. His eyes darted to the contents of your room and he smirked.

“These paintings...they aren't yours, are they?” Miguel cooed at you. “It's cute that you think you're sneaky.”

“You're one to talk, following me around like an obsessed fan. It's cute.” You bit back at him, his teeth unclenched enough for a low moan to slip out. His mouth followed the trail of goosebumps down your neck, your body started to arch as his mouth captured your nipple, and your eyes widened as you felt his fangs dig into you.

“I want to fucking drain myself in you.” Miguel grunted and you quite literally felt the crunching of bones in his jaw. His nose trailed up your chest, inhaling your scent and committing it to memory.

“Take it off and fuck me or I'll find someone else who's-“ A gasp fell from your lips when he wrappled his fist around your hair and yanked it back. He thre your body around on the bed until your head plummeted to the soft pillows.

“I dare you to finish that sentence hermosa.”Miguel's fingers plunged into you, knuckle-deep feeling at you- so warm, so wet. You were dripping around his fingers. “Come on...finish it.” He moved his fingers in a circular motion, his thumb rubbed and pressed at your clit. A wave of jealousy washed over him at your words, the idea of someone else doing what he's doing to you made his eyes glow a dim red.

“'Miguel-“ He rubbed faster and harder.

“Someone else who's better than me? Someone who's...stronger than me? Someone who can...fuck you like this?’’He trusted his fingers harder into you and it made you cry out. ‘’Apologize.’’

“But I'm not sorry.”

In a flash, his hologram suit exposed his bare skin and your eyes widened at his cock slapping against your thigh. Your gaze wandered down and you couldn't conceal your gape, he was rock hard and the tip was sticky. “I'll make you sorry.”

“You're a bastard M-“ He cut you off with a sharp thrust into your warm wet pussy, Miguel was ambitious as always, glaring a hole into that pretty face to see just how well he was fucking you. Your fingers dug into the skin of his back and clawed, you drew an inkling of blood and he groaned at the sensation. The look on your face was priceless. Your moans bounced off of the walls, growing louder and louder with every thrust, he reached a spot within that you didn't know fucking existed. He thought your body was a work of fucking art, a thin sheen of sweat coated your skin, and every dip and curve was sculpted by Greek Gods. Miguel grabbed onto the headboard as his pace was getting more and more violent, his fist clenched white and his claws dug into the wood.

“You always this tight?” He questions breathlessly, Jesus Christ it was like you were vacuum sealed to his dick. You were sucking him dry. Your face scrunched up cutely as you whined at him, and your hands went to the sheets holding onto dear life. “No, don't clutch the sheets, grab onto me instead.” for once, you actually obeyed. You gripped onto his hair instead and tugged onto it. Miguel grabbed your legs and lifted them onto his broad shoulders, he sucked air into his teeth and his muscles tensed as you squeezed him even harder. “What, no smartass remark hermosa?”

“Oh my God.” You whimpered, and he kissed you passionately to muffle your pretty little sounds, absorbing them onto his tongue. His cock was fucking magic, he stretched you out so well it fucking hurt. The heated curl in your stomach was about to unfurl, the knots were twisting and turning with every brutal kiss and clash of teeth.

“Cum for me. You know you want to.” Miguel boasted like a proud high school jock. The slap of skin echoed around the whole room, he felt your stringy wetness cover him as a raw moan escaped from your lips. Your body arched against the bed as the waves of desire resounded throughout your entire body. You wanted to giggle, you had never come so hard before. It was kind of revolutionary. He fucked you through it, the kisses getting more desperate, passionate, and sloppy as if to mimic his pounding. “Tell me you want it.”

“I want it Miguel, please just - fuck.”with those sweet words, you could feel him spurt inside of you, the warm sticky liquid coating your insides. His body tensed with every stroke, completely emptying himself inside of you. Lord, you milked him dry and his groan was an indicator of that. You felt proud of yourself, Miguel O'Hara being breathless was something you never anticipated…well that was before he kissed you and everything went to pure chaos.

You lowered your legs from his shoulders and wrapped them around his waist, your lips meeting his tenderly. He liked it when you raked your slender fingers through his hair. He sighed before he pulled out of you, his gaze landed upon your pussy and the mess you both made. You chuckled at each other like a couple of teenagers, lightly blushing and doing the devil's tango. Miguel rolled next to you, both of you panting at what you had just experienced. He was so...good...at that.

The soft dim light lit up the room, the window outside casting a pale shadow of the New York skyline outside. You turned your head to Miguel, his angled features looking stoic as ever. It was obvious his mood changed but you didn't know why. Your cheek was buried in the pillow as you laid on your stomach, your hair tumbling down looking sexed out as always and he almost wanted to laugh, he definitely would've if the weight of the multiverse wasn't on his shoulders. Your hand flew to his and ruffled the disheveled tufts and he practically melted into your touch.

“You're a million miles away.” You repeated what you said earlier tonight before he kissed you. Miguel moved closer to you, leaning up on the divinely carved headboard as you lay there playing with his hair. He was agitated but a sliver of sadness warped through him and he didn't like it. His eyes latched onto yours, heady and scorching, his eyebrows twinging in sadness as he stared into your beautiful face- like it was the last time he'd be seeing it. He opened his mouth to speak but instead, he grabbed the hand that was in his hair and brought it to his lips, kissing your soft glowing flesh and tasting your sweet flushed skin.

“Mi amor.” 'He whispered, placing your palm on his face.

“Oh, that's new.” You smiled, and his eyes lingered on the curve of your ass. He had to suppress a shit-eating grin, his hand landed and stroked the skin of your thighs. “Am I still 'mi amor' even when I've been a bad girl?” You blinked up at him and then stared at all the stolen artwork and sculptures littering your room and adorning every wall, he just squinted your eyes in a judgemental manner at your question, he keep transitioning in and out of silence. It was obvious something was bothering him.

“What is it, Miguel?”

After a palpable silence, he finally opened his mouth, his gaze downcast as if he didn't want to look at you made you all the more confused. “It hurts me. How much I want you...I don't want to be tragically wounded and damaged by demons I can't escape... I just want to be with you.” He began unraveling what was eating at him, baring apart his battered soul and heavy mind, the expression your face made was one of...sorrow. “I don’t want to leave you alone. I can’t but I’m sure you’ve firgured that out by now.”

Miguel's confession echoed through your very soul and tolled at your brain, your heart on the other hand was thumping in your chest and beating at your fingertips. You didn't know what to do or say. You gripped his chin so he could face you, his hold on your thighs becoming stronger.

“You're fighting yourself and you're not even fighting fair. God you have no idea, do you?”

“I don't know what to do.” He replied back softly and it broke your heart seeing him so vulnerable with you, his eyes were quaking in fear. To hear him talk so lowly of himself made guilt pang at your heartstrings, if only he knew what good he's done.

“Have you got any idea how much good you've done? Everything you've done for spiders in every single world?” You urged him to see reason, he was always so damn rational. Why wasn't he seeing it? “Being Spiderman is a sacrifice, you know this. If that means losing sometimes...you must let it pass unhindered. But that doesn’t change how much I want you. ”

“No.” Miguel replied curtly, he knew you were right but he just couldn’t handle the idea of losing you right now. He just grabbed your face and kissed you, toppling you onto his lap to forget all about it and just melt into your warm embrace.

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

Kinkuary Day 4

AN: Given how much this man touches people's necks, this was a given. Also, I have been experiencing a bit of Hao brainrot lately so this came up at the perfect time lol.

Synopsis: Xu Minghao is not typically what you envision when you think of the word 'fuckboy.' However, with how often you've found yourself in his bed, the term fits him to a t. Not that you're complaining.

General tags and warnings: Xu Minghao x Fem! Reader, university au, non-idol, (sort of) friend with benefits! Minghao and this is pretty much pwp.

Primary kink: Choking.

Smut tags and warnings: hair pulling (f. receiving), biting (f. receiving), mentions of clawing (both f. and m. receiving), some manhandling, overstimulation (f. receiving), mild dirty talk, choking (f. receiving), dacryphilia if you squint and piv sex with a condom (I know, who am I?).

Word count: 1.8k.

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

You really did intend to spend tonight catching up with your friends.

Mingyu and Seokmin have been begging you to catch up with them for ages now and, you always feel like you've kicked two giant puppies when you apologise to them and have to decline every invite to hang out. Between essays and attending lectures all in an attempt to earn your Honours, you've barely had time to be a human being these past few months.

The two of them always understood. Because of course they did. They're probably the two kindest men you've ever met and, it's all just made you feel like even more of an asshole for constantly turning them down.

It doesn't help that you've been more than happy to spend time with their other friend either.

Calling your relationship with Minghao friendship would be generous. Frankly, it's a miracle the two of you can manage to stand each other given his disposition for cynicism and fondness for mocking your taste in music. However, to put it crassly, he's hot. All seemingly never ending dark locks, masterfully applied eyeliner and chipped, black painted fingernails. Considering your past ‘relationships’ with men like Seungcheol, Chan and even Mingyu that one summer, it's safe to say your friends were more than a little surprised when they noticed you and the perpetually stoic man gravitating towards each other.

“Am I boring you?” Minghao's words cut through your momentarily guilt swiftly. Long fingers winding themselves in your hair and tugging hard enough to provide a pleasant sting.

“N–No, I ah–,” your train of thought is interrupted by an especially harsh snap of his hips, his tip brushing against the part of your walls that renders everything but, him white noise. You claw at his sheets while he continues to fuck you into his bed. The obscene sounds of his hips snapping into your ass echoing throughout his bedroom. Luckily, the music blasting outside is more than enough to drown out whatever noises the two of you typically have to muffle.

“Good to know,” he laughs breathlessly into your ear, biting down on the lobe in time with his other hand gripping one of your breasts hard enough for the slight pain of his fingernails to shoot straight to your clit. If he wasn't holding onto you so fiercely, you're sure you would've fallen face first into one of his pillows by now.

You know Minghao fucks around with other people so, you're not going to delude yourself into thinking he's especially ravenous tonight because it's been a couple of weeks since the two of you have fooled around. However, it's hard not to think that way when he sinks his teeth into your shoulder while kneading your breasts in his massive hands. It's especially hard not to think that way when he's thrusting into you so deeply that you're sure you can feel him in your lungs and you're dangerously close to cumming again.

Sometimes, Minghao's phenomenal observation skills are great. Mostly, however, he uses them to drive you closer and closer to insanity.

“Close already?” He snarks against your skin, one of his hands snaking its way down your stomach to lightly brush your swollen clit. You reaction is immediate. A broken moan ripping itself from somewhere deep inside of you while your walls clench around him like a vice. He's barely touching you but, it's still enough for the network of knots in your core to grow tighter and tighter again.

“Hao,” you pant, your eyes squeezing shut when he graces you with more pressure on your clit. The circles he's drawing are lazy and slow but, it's better than nothing. You'll happily take what you can get at this point. “Please, I'm– It's– I'm so close,” you gasp out.

You're already too far gone to really pay attention to what he's saying but, your heart does leap into your throat when you feel the familiar weight of his hand around your neck. That simple gesture alone is enough to violently shove you over the metaphorical edge. Somewhere in the distance you can hear him curse behind you but, your brain is too busy breaking into a million pieces to really pay all that much attention.

It's easy to forget how strong Minghao is sometimes. In these moments, where he keeps you from crumbling into a heap on his bed while your body is hit with wave after wave of release, you're appreciative of that fact.

“–making a mess on my sheets,” are the first words your muddled brain can make out when you start to come back to your body. Everything is still a haze (and the purple lights decorating his room definitely add to that feeling) so you just barely register him manoeuvring you on your back. Still trying to catch your breath, a sweaty, eyeliner smudged Minghao entering your line of sight isn't helping matters.

He kisses you before you can think to do or say anything else. God, you'd almost forgotten how fucking great of a kisser he is. Full, plump lips leaving no room in your mind for anything but, him while his large hands spread your sticky thighs to allow space for him to comfortably position himself between them. He smirks against your mouth when you gasp in shock at the single thrust it takes for him to fully sheath himself inside of you again.

“Always so tight,” he groans, dragging himself out slowly enough for you to feel every vein of his cock before snapping forward. All you can think to do is claw at his muscular back while he fucks you into his bed once more. You're veering dangerously close to overstimulation territory but, you know from experience that that's what Minghao is hoping for. Precise thrusts making sure to hit that spot inside of you that causes your pussy to flutter around him and tears to build in the corners of your glossy eyes.

Minghao watches every twitch in your face like a hawk. Drinking every furrow of your brow and part of your lips in as though he needs them. Typically he's better at holding off his own release but, it's been far too long since he's fucked you and the way you're gripping him like you want to milk him for every last drop shoots sparks to the very tips of his fingers. However, he has to make you cum at least one more time on his cock before he lets himself go.

Everything in you seizes up for a brief moment when Minghao wraps his hand around your neck again. Blinking your eyes open takes a great deal of effort (when did you even shut them?) but, it's worth it to see him like this. Minghao is always hot but, when he's all sweaty and his eyeliner is smudged on his handsome face, he looks out of this world.

The air in your lungs vanishes in an instantly when he tightens his hold on your neck. His fingers burn every bit of skin they touch and the lack of air is making it increasingly difficult to focus on anything that isn't Minghao and his cock.

“–so fucking beautiful,” is all you hear before his mouth crashes into yours and his fingers apply more pressure. Sometimes, you wish he'd push your limits a little more but, between his cock continuing to bully your sensitive walls and the light-headedness you feel, you can't complain too much. God, would it be so terrible to spend the rest of your days with his hand around your neck? You don't think so.

You quickly shove that insane thought aside. His muffled groans and breathy curses add to the growing wetness you can feel leaking out of you onto his sheets with every precise stroke of his cock. However, it's ultimately his thumb pressing against your pulse that makes you fracture around him all over again. Noone has ever made you squirt but, you think this is the first time you've come dangerously close to doing so.

Minghao does not let up this time. Continuing to fuck you through your release, kissing away the stray tears that roll down your face due to the all-encompassing overstimulation. You don't think you can cum again right now but, with the way he continues to choke you through this already intense orgasm, he seems to be putting all of energy into trying to get you to cum again soon.

“Ha-Hao,” you choke out, teary eyes meeting his wild ones while he chases his own release. “I–It's–I'm– To-Too mu–much,” you babble out between broken moans and watery whimpers.

You've always (sort of) joked that Minghao has a very obvious sadistic side. He's never agreed with you but, he's never outright denied it either. Now, when he moans out a string of curses along with your name, you don't think he has much of a leg to stand on. He still has the presence of mind to drop his hand from your neck before nuzzling into your neck. Mouthing at whatever skin he can while his body jerks with every rope of cum he shoots into the condom he hastily put on who knows how long ago.

It's the smart, safe option obviously but, sometimes, when you're by yourself, you wonder what it would be like for him to paint your walls white instead.

The rush of oxygen must be getting to your head.

“Fuck,” is the coherent first word he pants out before pulling out of you and rolling onto his back. The pleasant pain of a thorough, good session already starts to set into the apex of your thighs and, you're honestly tempted to just pull his blanket over your body and crash. However, you two don't do sleepovers. It's become an unspoken part of your arrangement. Plus, you really should actually go spend some time with Seokmin and Mingyu. They're probably worried sick by now.

“Where are you going?” He croaks out, watching you with one eye as you crawl to the edge of his bed. You choose to ignore the way your clit zips back to life at the scratchiness in his voice. You know better than to look back at him right now. You really might just wind up under him again.

“To clean up and get dressed?” You ask back, confusion colouring your voice. You still don't look at him.

“Relax, you don't have to be in such a hurry,” he responds, grabbing your wrist and tugging you back into his bed. Your heart leaps to your throat when he awards you with a throaty chuckle, your hand reflexively coming to rest on his sweaty chest as you slot yourself comfortably into his side.

Well, you're sure Mingyu and Seokmin will understand.

Reblogs are greatly appreciated.

Do not repost, edit, copy and/or translate my work. I do not give you my permission to do so, nor will you ever receive it.

Kinkuary Masterlist | Seventeen Masterlist | Ko-fi.

[sinkingnotsoslowly]

Muse

Pairing: (f) Reader x Hyunjin

Warning: angst if you squint, royalty au

DO NOT STEAL MY WORK. REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK ARE APPRECIATED.

masterlist

Autumn's sighs- little soft thoughts about our favourite boys

Life in the palace was lonely. The tall ceilings and dark walls seemed never-ending. The end of the hallways looked like black holes, once they suck you in there’s no way out. The only place Hyunjin felt at ease in the entire palace was his bedchamber. It was devoid of the darkness that seemed to engulf everything in the palace. Instead, it was decorated by splashes of colours here and there, paintbrushes scattered across the floor, several complete and incomplete canvases kept wherever Hyunjin could fit them and even the bed unmade. It was not what any other person would call ‘decorated’ by any means. Even Hyunjin knew it was a mess, “But a pretty mess” he would argue.

One would think life was easy for the royals. They could have whatever they wanted, and with the whole nation at their feet achieving so was as easy as pie. And maybe it was true to a certain extent. But unfortunately for Hyunjin, he did not desire anything that the royal life was able to provide. What need does he have for power and wealth? The little prince used to ask his tutor. And the only thing everybody he asked this to had to say was that he was the eldest prince, the future king, and he ought to have the power to rule the nation. Hyunjin did not want to rule anything.

 “Your brother is being made the crown prince” the royal guard stomped onto the balcony where Hyunjin had set up his easel and canvas.

“And I remember telling you not to pester me when I am painting, Changbin.”

The sunset was becoming too yellow, this wouldn’t do. Hyunjin started mixing some red with the yellow on his palette and looked up to see the guard still standing there, looking at him with a face of disbelief. “Do you have anything more to say?”

“Don’t you have anything to say? You were supposed to have that title Hyunjin”

Hyunjin went back to put some orange on the canvas. Now the sunset had some texture. “I am happy for Yongbok is what I have to say”

“Hyunjin”

Sighing, he put down the brush to look at the guard frowning. Changbin was the only person in the palace he could call upon. He was a little dense at times and maybe that was why when everyone left Hyunjin to his own devices, he followed him like a lost puppy.

“I never wanted that title. I am glad that the King deemed me unworthy. I would have much rather enjoyed being born to a simple farmer. Work hard during the day and paint at night. It is a dream indeed.”

“And it will remain a dream. There is no point in dreaming what you cannot achieve. Hyunjin, you could have handled the business affairs during the day and painted at night-”

“I do not want to handle the business. Yongbok is far more willing and capable of it. It is the right decision to make him the crown prince. I am happy like this” Hyunjin picked up his brush to continue the finishing touches. It was almost dark now; he couldn’t sit out here much longer.

“So, you are all right with people making you out to be mad?” his brush stilled for a moment. “Yes. Yes, I am. It is nothing new. You should leave, I want to finish this painting before it gets too dark.”

Hyunjin had expected to be at peace after his younger brother was made the crown prince. The King now had no reason to fret and Hyunjin could go about doing his own things. But he was wrong. His peace of mind did not last long as not even a week later the King decided that it would be best for the eldest to get married. Perhaps a wife would help his delirious mind.

To Hyunjin that was worse than being the next King. A wife? It was the nation’s ruler who was mad not him. Having a wife meant letting an outsider enter the little delicate space he had so tenderly sewed. An outsider who would judge him for his choices, call him a lunatic and tear apart his safe abode. Then there would be nothing remaining of him. How would he survive? These thoughts kept him up at night. And when finally sleep came he was haunted by nightmares, where a faceless woman would smirk at him, looking at him with disdain and make a mockery of him.

No amount of pleading stopped the marriage. Even the younger prince tried to convince his father against it after seeing his brother in so much distress. The King stood firm on his decision. And so the wedding preparations began. Hyunjin was certain that the King had lied about him to make a man marry off his daughter to a prince like him. Or maybe this man did not value his daughter enough to pick a worthy husband for her. Either way, Hyunjin did not think his to-be wife would treat him differently than the rest of the masses. So he did not bother to show any interest whatsoever in the maids’ gossip about the unfortunate lady who was to become a part of the royal family. But Changbin enthusiastically visited Hyunjin to tell him about her whenever he heard something new. And so he’s heard that the lady was the princess of a small kingdom far south. Their nation was suffering from famine, so their King was marrying off his daughter to save their people. More of a trade than a marriage. Hyunjin should have known that his father had played some cards for a nation to give up their princess to him.

The first time Hyunjin saw her was at the altar. Dressed in white with accents of gold and a veil drawn low upon her face. Still, Hyunjin could make out her features; as delicate as a flower, full of innocence, untainted by the harsh condemnation of the world. At once Hyunjin thought of how exquisite she would look sitting in one of the garden chairs among all the other flowers while he painted her. And when she shyly looked up at him, gauging the features of her new husband, Hyunjin knew he was done for.

The first few weeks after the grand wedding passed with the newlyweds awkwardly shuffling around each other and stumbling over their words like babies learning to speak. “This is intolerable. Both of you make me want to smash my head against the wall " Changbin barged into the library, where he knew he would find the older prince. He’d had enough of the couple.

“And what did I tell you about disturbing me when I’m in the library Changbin?” Hyunjin said as he flipped through yet another romantic novel, he says inspired him to paint. Changbin ignored the prince’s blatant show of uninterest and continued, “Do all of us in the palace a favour Hyunjin, grow a pair and talk to your wife properly. You cannot keep running away forever”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Although Hyunjin chased away Changbin he knew that it was becoming ridiculous. He had not touched his paintbrush since the night before the wedding when he locked away all his paints and brushes in drawers, hid the easel under the bed and all his finished and unfinished paintings in trunks. And when his wife stared at him with a questioning look when he insisted on always keeping those drawers locked, he had stupidly said, “I’m a very paranoid man.”  Hyunjin never considered himself to be awkward when conversing with people, he could be very charming at times. So he kept wondering why this sudden idiocy had seized him.

Hyunjin was certain that he had reached a point of restlessness where he would spontaneously combust at any moment if he did not get his hands on even a pencil and a piece of paper to sketch. And of all times now his head was swarming with inspirations when he could not put them down on paper. Ridiculous is what it is, he thought. He did not even know why he was hiding himself from his wife when he never bothered to do so for any other person no matter how many vile words they spewed at him. Maybe he did not want those doe-like eyes, wide with curiosity, to look at him with disdain when she would find out that her husband was not right in his head, that he devoted all his time not to his duties to the nation but to playing with paint. He did not want her to be disappointed since he was not what she had expected.

But as the fates worked their way it turned out that his wife was not the one Hyunjin had expected. It was one night when Hyunjin was sitting with his nose in a book when (Y/n) seemed to no longer able to hold her tongue and asked, “Do you, perhaps paint milord?”

Hyunjin looked up from his book looking like he was caught with his hand in a cookie jar.

“What- how did you know?”

“I noticed the smell of paints on the very first day and I couldn’t hold my curiosity anymore,” seeing Hyunjin’s face ashen she hurriedly continued, “I paint too. Well, at least I used to before I came here.”

“You paint?”

“Yes,” Hyunjin couldn’t believe his ears.

“Would you- would you like to see my paintings?”

“I would love to.” This was the first time he saw her smile that bright since the wedding day. There was no doubt that it was true, that she was not just mocking him. Hesitantly, Hyunjin unlocked one of the trunks and brought out a small painting of a magnolia they had in the palace garden. (Y/n) gasped and Hyunjin quickly looked at her face for signs of disappointment. “That is so beautiful. It looks more real than the paintings I have seen in botanical books,” her eyes were dazzling with amazement. This encouraged him as he brought out more of his paintings, always checking to see how (Y/n) was reacting.

One would say that the chambers were back to how they used to be with how canvases were spread across the room. And amidst those paintings were the princess and the prince, in their little world. “Will you teach me how to paint like this milord?” shyly she asked. But even her shyness could not hide the excitement in her eyes.

“Of course. But only if you stop calling me milord”

“Then what should I call you?” Hyunjin chuckled at how adorable she was.

“Hmm, you could call me Hyunjin, Hyune, darling, love, whatever you wish angel.”

(Y/n) hid her face in her hands. Hyunjin could only giggle seeing her flustered. But even his ears felt hot. He did not mind; he was happy. This was not the type of happiness he felt after completing a sketch or reading a ‘happily ever after’ ending. He hadn’t felt like this for a long time, since after his mother passed. He did not feel judged when (Y/n) picked up the canvases and looked closely at them. She was not disappointed in him, rather she looked like this was everything she could ever ask for; she looked happy. And Hyunjin wanted to paint that happiness on the white canvas, he wanted to paint her. Hyunjin had found his muse.

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

Black Beauty.

Synopsis: Being in love with a murder is never fun, especially when it’s a forbidden love

Warnings: 1920’s, mentions of racism, songfic, mentions of murder, mature themes, mentions of sex (wrap it before you tap it!), slightly toxic Alastor

Black Beauty by Lana Del Rey

Navigation!! // Masterlist!!

I paint my nails black

I dye my hair a darker shade of brown

‘Cause you like your women Spanish, dark brown and proud

I paint my sky black

You said if you could have it your way

You’d make it nighttime all day

So it’d suit the mood of your soul

“You look very lovely in that dress my dear.” Alastor says, smiling from his place behind you as you get your dress fitted. You smile showing off your pearly whites as you turn around to face him from the elevated surface you stand on. The mirrors around you both help provide an all around view of your dress. It’s a dark red, almost the color of wine, with small white beads adorning the neckline.

“Well I’m very pleased that you like it.” You say with a smile and nod. Alastor just grins, stepping toward you to put his hands on your waist, level with your eyes. Now that you both are the same height, you can comfortably wrap your arms around his neck. He smiles, leaning inn to pepper a few kisses against your cheek, trailing down your neck to your collarbone, inhaling your scent.

“You smell divine too. Is this a new perfume I smell?” He asked, leaning in close just enough to rub the tip of his nose against your neck. You giggle, pushing him away slightly, but your attempts are futile in comparison to his dedication. You laugh, clinging onto him as he tickles you all over, holding you upright so you don’t collapse from laughter. “I think you should get this one.” He says finally pulling away from you. You gasp and catch your breath, face flushed from the laughter.

“Well then I guess I’ll be taking this one.” You say, turning back around to face yourself in the mirror, hands shimming yourself into your dress a bit more, picking up your neckline just a bit. It seemed it had fallen a bit during Alastor’s small ambush on you. “I’ll need to call Rosie to help take this off. You say, looking down at the train of the dress. It was for your brothers wedding, farther into the city where the oldest money families would be. You needed to look perfect.

“Oh let’s not bother my old friend. I can do the job just fine, can I not?” Alastor asked with a grin, stepping up onto the small platform you were standing on, handing slowly running up your sides. You watch him in the mirror as he leans his head on your shoulder, his larger frame almost covering yours. He turns his head to kiss your neck, a sly smile creeping onto his face when he feels your pulse quicken.

“This is highly inappropriate.” You manage to say, a blush forming across your cheeks as his hands wrap around your waist, pulling you back against him. The fabric is only but such a barrier for so much.

“When has that ever stopped me before?” He asked, before his hands move to the clips along your back, which holds your dress against you. He’s slow in removing them, unclipping on after the other, letting them fall to the floor. Your hands fly to the top of your dress to keep it from falling once the second clip is gone. He shakes his head, removing the last clip before his eyes meet yours in the mirror.

“Please don’t make me lose my patience dear.”

Oh, what can I do?

Nothing, my sparrow blue

Oh, what can I do?

Life is beautiful, but you don’t have a clue

Sun and ocean blue

Their magnificence, it don’t make sense to you

Black beauty

Black beauty

“Thank you so much for coming little sister!” Your brother shouts over the loud music. You smile and lean in to hug him with grace, his new wife at his side. She smiles to you, embracing you next.

“Yes, we’re so happy you’re here!” She said with a smile. You smile to the both of them, about to say something when a man walk pasts your brother, catching his attention. Before you can blink, the man is at your brothers side.

“Sister, I’d like you to meet a good friend of mine, Valentino.” He says. The man in question is taller, and his eyes practically pierce through your soul as you smile at him, extending your hand to shake his out of force of habit. He shakes your hand, but takes a second too long to let go as his eyes roam over your frame and drink you in, being under his gaze making you uncomfortable alone.

“Valentino, this is my youngest sister.” He says, and you fight the chill that threatens to run along your spine.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Valentino says, his voice smooth but with an underlying edge that makes you wary.

You nod politely, trying to ignore the unease. “Likewise.”

Your brother is pulled away by another guest, leaving you alone with Valentino. He takes a step closer, his presence almost overwhelming. “So, how are you finding the wedding?” he asks, his eyes never leaving yours.

“It’s lovely,” you reply, forcing a smile. “My brother and his wife seem very happy.”

Valentino smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Indeed. Happiness is a precious thing.” He pauses, his gaze intensifying. “Tell me, do you believe in destiny?”

Before you can answer, the lights dim as the band begins to play a slow, romantic tune. Taking advantage of the distraction, you excuse yourself. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to find my mother.”

You slip away into the crowd, your heart pounding. As you weave through the guests, the lavish decorations and flappers blur together, you almost feel like you’re in a fever dream. You step outside onto the terrace, the cool night air a welcome relief.

Standing by the railing, you take a deep breath and try to calm your nerves. The night is quiet except for the faint sounds of the party inside. You glance back through the windows and see Valentino scanning the crowd, looking for you.

It’s only when you hear a few cheers, signaling the end of a speech, when you finally go back inside. People are scattered about and the band is loud, but you see someone you would’ve never thought to see.

Alastor. On his arm, a woman with deep caramel skin stands next to him, the two with linked arms greeting other guests. Her hair is long and braided, and her dress followed suit, a warm orange color on her dress as she adorned gold jewelry. She was stunning, and she glowed next to him. His kiss to her cheek made it clear just how close they were. Unconsciously, you found yourself drifting toward them, not wanting to believe the sight before you. How dare he?

“So happy you could make it!” Your brother says, greeting Alastor with a firm handshake and nodding to the woman on his arm. You stand next to your brothers new wife, the two of you sharing a glance as you waited for your brother to introduce you to Alastor and this new woman. It took a whole five minutes before Alastor had noticed both your brothers wife and you. Noticing his gaze, your brother finally introduced you both. “This is my wife, but you already knew that.” He laughed, before gesturing to you. “Ah, and this is my little sister. Our families pride and joy.” He said, before he paused, leaning closer to tell everyone something in a lower voice. “Don’t tell others, but mother and father hope to find my sister a proper husband tonight. Isn’t that right sister?” He asked, putting you on the spot. You glanced around, the woman on Alastor’s arm smiling politely to you, and your brothers wife urging you silently to answer.

“Yes, I do believe my brother is right. Mother and father want me to marry as soon as possible.” You say, forcing a smile that feels almost too painful to bear. You almost don’t notice the way Alastor’s eye twitches slightly at that.

“Well now, enough chit chat, let’s enjoy ourselves!” Your brother said with a laugh, standing next to his wife and leading her away.

I paint the house black

My wedding dress black leather too

You have no room for light, love is lost on you

I keep my lips red

To seem like cherries in the spring

Darling, you can't let everything seem so dark blue

“Who was she?” You asked, jumping off the bed quickly, wrapping the duvet around yourself. Alastor stands just as quickly, dressing himself back into his slacks before chasing after you.

“A friend of mine dear. You know no one will ever replace you.” Alastor says, watching as you go to the bathroom to retrieve a pack of cigarettes, lighting one with shaky hands. You face is tear stained. You sit on the edge of the tub, watching Alastor through hatred filled eyes as he stands at the doorway.

“A friend?” You ask, blowing out smoke. “Friend my ass.” You say, taking another drag of the cigarette before tapping it few times.

“She really is a friend dear. Why don’t you believe me?” He asked, smiling in disbelief.

“You brought her to my brothers wedding Alastor!” You shouted, standing. “You kissed her on the dance floor and took her home. You told my brothers groomsmen you were courting her!” You shouted, tears running down your face. You’d be damned if he tried to play dumb now.

“It’s all a lie mon amour.” He said, trying to say you with his french. You rolled your eyes at him, waving him off with a hand.

“Yeah sure! Go run off with her! Don’t waste your breath lying to me.” You said, taking another drag of the cigarette again, turning away from him.

“Please forgive me.” He whispered, his hands wrapping around your waist. You felt tired, having no more energy to fight. You felt his lips kiss your temple, letting your body rest against his. “I’m sorry.” He whispered into your ear, his thumb rubbing a soft pattern into your side. “I’m so sorry.” He whispered again, his kisses trailing lower and lower. You sighed and breathed out the smoke, letting yourself relax despite the tears that still ran down your cheeks.

“Why can’t you love me?” You asked, causing him to pause, shifting your weight to face him.

“Because even if I spent my whole life loving you it still wouldn’t be enough for me.”

But oh, what can I do

To turn you on or get through you?

“What? What are you saying?” You asked, pushing yourself away from him, your stomach forming knots.

“My dear do you know what people will say?” He asked, trying to step closer, reaching out for you.

“I don’t care about what they would say.” You said, and he shook his head, pausing to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t either. But you and I both know we could be killed; hung for this.” He said, finally opening his eyes to look at you. Your eyes were shot red, cheeks heated and nose a shade of pink from sniffling so much.

“S-so what? You’re just gonna run off with another woman?” You asked, and he sighed, walking toward you. This time you didn’t run, but instead, you let him hold you. 

“I don’t want to. Believe me dear, I don’t.” He said, and you frowned, watching him through teary eyes as he took the cigarette from you. “I’d kill anyone I’d have to if it meant being with you dear.” He said, kissing your cheek and stopping a tear from rolling down your face. “I’d do anything to be with you. But we both know the world is cruel.” He said, shaking his head as he stared into you.

Oh, what can I do?

Life is beautiful, but you don't have a clue

Sun and ocean blue

Their magnificence, it don't make sense to you

“You know I love you.” He said, kissing you softly, moving the stray hairs out of your face. You nod, feeling his hands cradle your cheeks. “Please don’t make this difficult for us.” He said, kissing the tip of your nose. “I have to do this. For us.” He said, and you nodded, accepting the fact this was the way life would be.

“ Who is she?” You asked, before he gave you a sad smile.

“A nice woman. Her name is Vivian…I believe you two could have been friends if the circumstances were different.” He said, before you looked down, not saying anything else.

Black beauty

Black beauty

Black beauty

Black beauty

Black beauty

“How long have you been courting her?” You ask, before he grows quiet. He stays that way for a bit, and it dawns on you that you were nothing more than a secret to him. A small, unimportant, secret.

“I can’t do this.” You say, just picturing the two of them in her mind over and over again. You couldn’t take it. This was so, confusing.

Black beauty, baby

Black beauty, baby

“Y/n.” Alastor said, grabbing your wrist before you could leave. He turned you to face him, his face now a mixture of frustration and desperation. “Please think for a moment, use your head dear. I know you have a brain in there.” He said, his eyes stern, forcing you to look at him. Willing you to stay.

Oh, what can I do?

Life is beautiful, but you don't have a clue

Sun and ocean blue

Their magnificence, it don't make sense to you

“I know this is very disheartening dear, really I do, but if I do not do this people will talk and they will find out about us and we could be killed, hung even.” He said, his other hand moving to hold yours, his other still not letting go of your wrist. You turned your body to face him fully. “I cannot bear the thought of you facing an unfortunate fate all because of my love.” He said, leaning in closer to you, the tip of his nose brushing yours. “Please don’t go.”

But it was too much. You knew you both could never be together, and as long as this Vivían woman was around, you knew you also couldn’t be. You turned and left, tears streaming down your face as you wrapped yourself in whatever cloth you could find, before making the long walk home.

Black beauty

Black beauty

Black beauty

Black beauty

[bbhyeoliskooks]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐎𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 | csb

✥ genre: soobin x reader (f), the other woman, forbidden romance, pretty much angst, 1.5k+ words

✥ warnings: infidelity, suggestive

✥ song rec: The Other Woman -- Lana Del Ray

Soobin's fingers lightly traced the upper part of your cheek, gently waking you up as if the sun's meager rays weren't enough. He didn't manage to get very far, your eyelashes barely fluttering as you tiredly opened one eye. His touch was soft, absolutely warm as it glided lower to cup your cheek.

You glanced at the alarm clock behind him, noticing the bright red letters that yelled 5:03am. Typical, you thought, rolling on your other side so that you could prolong Soobin's departure. He would always leave around this time when you finally got to dream, waking you up so he could muster a quick goodbye. While you appreciated the effort, you were always too tired to realize that he was going away. Again.

This time however, you hadn't entered the REM stage of sleeping, with only 2 hours of sleep under your belt. Soobin had treated you to a wonderful night, clothes scattered on the floor haphazardly that it kept you up, euphorically biting your lip. The whole night his arm was wrapped tightly around you, letting you know that he subconsciously wanted you near. Because of your lack of sleep, you were able to open your eyes easily, being woken up by Soobin's many kisses and physical touches.

You groaned and tried to look at him as he peppered soft kisses against your cold shoulder. Of course you hadn't gone to sleep wearing anything, but that was the usual with Soobin. He always wanted them off you when you went to sleep, arguing that sleep was warmer this way. It's not like you cared anyway as you were desperate to have him near you in any way possible- as pathetic as that sounded.

"Hey love, I have to go," he mumbled, his voice breathy against the stark contrast of birds chirping outside.

You hummed, turning around once again to bury your face in his neck, "can't you just stay a little longer?"

Although you already knew the answer to that foolish question, you wanted to take your chances, to have him here until the sun actually warmed the room. He never did, the moon being his companion whenever he drove to your house in the silence of the night. Being here, under the simultaneous light of the sun and moon, made him look like a painting from the golden age of the Renaissance. He was perfect here, a source of your personal heat and more so, your love. If anything, Soobin belonged in your room; he belonged with you.

The dimple on his cheek appeared when he frowned, eyes falling onto your body that was lazily covered in the heavy bedsheets. "My wife will notice I'm gone. I'm sorry, I can't."

How could you be surprised at this point? Countless times he was wrapped within you, his body extremely close to yours so often that they molded together so easily. His legs would fit with yours perfectly, his chest flush against yours in a way that provided comfort. You were made for him, how could he not see that? Then as always, the next day he would be taken away from you- to her, the woman that didn't get this vulnerable side of Soobin at all.

You didn't care that you were the other woman, as harsh as it was. You knew Soobin loved you more. You put more effort in your appearance, you kept your house tidy at all times for his arrival, you did everything that made him love you more. She, on the other hand, never put much thought into it and took him for granted. Because of this he loved you more and if you were going to be cocky, you didn't even have to lift a finger. Despite knowing this you felt disappointed, your heart sinking involuntarily at his expected answer.

"It's fine, Soobin... but can I ask something?" You whispered, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

A gentle smile fell on his face as he gazed at you as well, admiring the way the light hit your eyes. For a couple of seconds he stared at you, before reluctantly getting up.

"Of course, love." The cold air hit him and he hissed, looking around for his clothes that were scandalously thrown off to the side.

You began to toy with your fingers, a line drawn tightly on your lips as you watched him loop his legs through his pants. It had been a question that you were pondering for so long ever since the affair started. Now that you were awake enough, you could finally receive an answer that would probably leave you tossing and turning the next night.

You started before pausing again, glancing at his bare chest. The sight was better than looking at his face- you knew his clouded expression would crush you with the words you said next.

"Why can't you leave her? I mean, we love each other but it's still wrong."

An awkward silence filled the room, taking the place of the sun rays. You got up as well, opting to wrap the blanket against your naked body, his warmth already fleeting from it. The only thing that could be heard was the tired breaths between you and Soobin, plus the rustling of him trying to buckle his pants. You shut your eyes as if the action would shield the hurt you knew you were going to feel in a couple of seconds, if he actually decided to answer.

"It's not that easy," Soobin sighed wistfully, grabbing his shirt- the last thing to be put on, "my parents will be unhappy and I'll lose a long marriage of 5 years."

You felt your throat dry up and become parched at his words. The dizziness of barely getting sleep seemed to be affecting you, and you felt your jelly legs falter from being glued to the floor. Before thinking, you said the words on the tip of your tongue.

"But don't you care that you'll lose me too if you keep this up? I want to be with you, Bin," you pleaded desperately, hoping that he would see your heart, "and- and I know you love me more than her." It was no use, the knowing, abandoned look on his face telling you everything his voice couldn't.

"I'm sorry... I'll text you when you wake up, okay?"

But you weren't going to give up without a fight. You ran over to him, who was already at the door of your bedroom. You grabbed onto the ends of his shirt, willing to do whatever to keep him here- even if that meant arguing.

"Then you'll just delete it? Hide me from your wife and everyone else?"

Turning around, Soobin's hand found its way to ruffle your hair softly before falling and cupping your cheek. You melted into his touch, letting half of your weight fall onto the left side of your leg. Momentarily you felt your dizziness pass, thankful that he was here for just a second more.

"Listen, sweetheart," he coaxed, his thumb delicately rubbing against your cheek, "you know I love you, but no one can know besides us. You also know that I want to be with you too; the circumstances just make it very hard."

If it was even possible, your heart seemed to shatter a little bit more, a physical crack running down through the middle. Tears prickled at your eyes, threatening to spill over. Crying was usually your last resort- he would never deny you when you were on the verge of tears. And although crying worked in your favor, sadness was truly what you were feeling as well. His words were a dagger to the heart, even though they were simultaneously sweet, calling you that pet name he specifically kept for you. They were the meaning of bittersweet, keeping you with a married man longer than what your self-respect demanded and what his poor wife deserved.

"Please choose me. I love you, Bin. I have loved you longer than her and I make you happy, don't I?" Your voice faltered, cracking at the end of each sentence. This time you let a tear fall, no shame in getting the waterworks flowing. It's not like you had a choice anyway; whatever Soobin did, your body involuntarily reacted at.

The married man stood in front of you, his tall stature merely towering over you as you looked at him with hopeful, sad eyes. He pressed a kiss against your forehead, hoping that the sweet action would soften the cruel words that he would say next. When you saw his hand cradling the doorknob, your eyes electric to analyze his every action, you knew. He was going to leave you in the night again, utterly alone and useless.

"You do... I'm sorry, sweetheart. I have to go," Soobin whispered as he regretfully opened the door.

You watched as he left, ruthlessly taking your heart with him to bring home to his naive wife. As always, this is what the other woman experienced daily. Wrongfully having his attention but unfortunately never his love.

Released: July 11, 2024 (9:22pm CT)

Thoughts: pls know that I do not condone cheating!! I just got this idea from listening to the other woman from Lana del Ray, which is what led me to writing this. even though it's wrong, I can't help but feel my heart break and feel sympathy :( not at the cheating part, rather doing whatever to make someone stay even though you know they won't :( anyway hope y'all enjoyed!

Tags:

[the-unidentified-author]

The Man in the Mask | Kylo Ren | Star Wars

Warnings/ Tags: Roughness, use of the force, harsh a words

Summary: Kylo Ren takes you as part of a bargain to leave your planet alone. he wants you to provide him with some information, but gets a lot more than he bargained for...

Word Count: 6,334

*Not my gif!

You watched as the sleek, metallic ships pierced through the sky, leaving trails of fire as they entered your planet's atmosphere. The air seemed to crackle with tension, each ship casting an ominous shadow over the vast gardens. Drawing a deep breath to steady yourself, you turned away from the spectacle and walked back inside the castle.

The grand hall was alive with chaos. Your staff bustled around frantically, their faces painted with anxiety. The rich tapestries lining the walls seemed to blur as your eyes scanned the crowd for your father. Sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows, casting colourful patterns on the polished marble floors, chaotic reflections of the turmoil within.

Spotting your father by the throne a towering, ornate seat that had witnessed centuries of history, you pressed forward, weaving through clusters of advisors and guards. The air smelled of polish and fresh flowers, a stark contrast to the palpable fear. Your heart thumped in your chest as you sidestepped a flustered steward, determined to reach the familiar figure that represented both authority and comfort in this uncertain moment.

Your maid stopped you in the hall, a squat, round old woman who had terrified you as a child, but you had grown to like her as she had been there for you when you lost your mother. She had a kind, weathered face that was currently etched with concern. Her grey curls bounced as she walked, and she wore a simple, yet neatly pressed maid's uniform. In her hands, she clutched a cloth which she wrung nervously.

"Oh gosh Y/n, I told you to put on a dress!" she said, putting her hands on her hips and looking at your appearance. Her eyes, though filled with worry, held a hint of affection for you.

Your outfit was a blend of masculine and feminine elements, designed to reflect your station as a princess while also showcasing a hint of practicality. The dark brown tight trousers were made of a durable, yet supple material, providing both comfort and agility.

Complementing these trousers were a pair of knee-high riding boots, their leather construction ensuring both style and functionality. The boots boasted a modest heel, allowing you to maintain a regal posture while still being able to move with ease.

The only thing that gave you a hint of femininity amidst this ensemble was the embroidery on your white fitted cotton shirt. This garment was tailored to fit snugly against your form, accentuating your curves while still allowing for freedom of movement. Intricate patterns adorned the shirt, their delicate stitching adding an elegant touch to your overall attire.

"Well, it will just have to do!" she exclaimed, twirling you around and deftly undoing the braid in your long hair. As soon as she finished, she spun you back to face her, gently fluffing your wavy locks around your face. With a sigh, she said, "Quick, hurry! We don't have much time. You need to get to the throne room."

She scurried away after she again looked at you and shook her head. You sighed and rolled your eyes before continuing your way to the throne room. As you walked away, you couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions. The weight of the situation pressing down upon you, yet the familiar chaos of the castle offered a semblance of comfort. The scent of polish and fresh flowers greeted you as you journeyed through the halls, each step echoing against the marble floors.

You pushed open the grand doors and stepped into the throne room. Your father was already seated on his ornate throne, the regal seat seeming to dwarf his weary form. His brow was furrowed with worry, and his normally steady gaze was clouded with unease. The light streaming through the tall, arched windows cast long shadows across the stone floor, highlighting the tension that filled the room.

Even from across the hall, you could see the tired lines etched into his face, and the way his shoulders sagged slightly under the weight of his crown. Despite his commanding presence, a sense of vulnerability emanated from him, revealing the strain of the situation at hand.

"They're early then," you said, walking up to the steps with a sense of urgency in your stride. The tension in the air was palpable as you approached him.

"Yep, they sure are," he replied, looking up at you with a mixture of resignation and hope in his eyes. "I hoped we might have more time to prepare."

"Time seems to be something we never have enough of these days," you responded, glancing briefly at the windows where the sky was beginning to darken with incoming ships. "Do you have any idea what they might want this time?"

He sighed, the sound heavy and laden with years of experience. "With the First Order, it's hard to say. Every demand feels like a test of our resolve."

You nodded, sharing the weight of his concerns. "Well, whatever it is, we'll face it together. We always do."

There was a brief moment of silence as both of you considered the challenges ahead, the enormity of the situation binding you in an unspoken alliance.

Your father was a strong man, respected and revered by his people; under his reign, your planet had weathered many storms and survived countless ordeals. Yet, as you looked at him now, you saw a side of him that was unfamiliar, so tired and full of despair. It was as if the weight of the universe had settled on his shoulders.

You noticed the slight tremble in his hands, the way his eyes occasionally darted to the side, as though checking for something unseen. It made you wonder if there was something more, something he wasn't telling you—a secret that cast a shadow over his every decision.

Despite the facade of strength he put on for you and the court, there were cracks forming beneath the veneer. His smile, when it appeared, never quite reached his eyes, and his laughter was thin and hollow amid the tension filling the air.

What burden was he shouldering alone, you wondered, and how long could he continue to keep it hidden before it consumed him whole?

"What is it, Father, what aren't you telling me?" You asked, your tone concerned but laced with underlying fear.

"The First Order," he began, his voice heavy with the weight of his words, "they've threatened to burn our planet if we don't show our allegiance to them." He sat back up in his chair, his eyes shifting from you to the flurry of people in the room that was slowly shrinking.

"Wait, they don't know about our dealings with the Resistance, do they?" you pressed, your heart hammering in your chest.

"I don't think so," he replied, though uncertainty tinged his voice. "But Kylo Ren himself is coming here to greet us, so your guess is as good as mine."

"Then we'll just have to pledge our allegiance to them," you stated, your voice firm despite the fear gnawing at you. "I know they're the bad guys, but we have to do everything possible to keep our people alive. They are our responsibility."

He looked at you, a mixture of pride and sorrow in his eyes. "I raised you well," he whispered, a small smile briefly gracing his lips before it disappeared again.

"But what if there's another way?" you asked, desperation creeping into your voice. "What if we can find a way to buy more time, to keep them at bay until we figure something out?"

"And risk everything?" he countered, the gravity of his gaze piercing through you. "We are treading on a dangerous line, and every decision feels like a gamble."

"Perhaps you can appeal to his humanity, if there's any left," you suggested, hope glimmering faintly.

He sighed deeply, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I'll try, but with someone like Kylo Ren, it's unpredictable. We must prepare for whatever may come."

The reality of the situation settled over you both as you steeled yourselves for what lay ahead.

You wanted desperately to say something to comfort him, to bring the happy man buried within him back to the surface. Memories flickered through your mind—his warm laughter at family dinners, the playful twinkle in his eyes when recounting tales of old adventures, the unwavering confidence that once radiated from him like the sun.

But now, as you looked at the weary figure before you, words seemed insufficient. How could mere syllables mend the fractures wrought by fear and uncertainty? You reached for his hand, squeezing it gently in silent solidarity. The familiar roughness of his palm was a reminder of the strength he once carried without effort.

His eyes met yours, a flicker of gratitude amidst the storm. It was a silent exchange, a promise that whatever lay ahead, you would face it together. Even if the words were absent, the bond you shared spoke volumes.

At that moment, you resolved to find a way to reclaim that laughter, to rekindle the joy that once defined him—even if it meant walking through fire side by side.

A voice suddenly called out, "Your Majesty." You turned towards the speaker and recognised him as one of your father's advisors. His gaze remained fixed on the floor as he continued, "They've arrived, shall I bring them in?"

 Your father nodded with authority, snapping his fingers and responding with a resounding, "Yes."

The man nodded and walked towards the exit, his footsteps echoing softly in the vast chamber. You turned and made your way to the smaller throne beside your father's, the fabric of your attire rustling as you moved. Settling into the seat, you felt its cool surface beneath you, a stark reminder of the authority it symbolised despite its reduced stature.

Your eyes remained fixed on the grand doors at the end of the great hall. The anticipation in the room was almost tangible, a silent hush falling over the assembled advisors and guards. Sunlight filtered through the high arched windows, casting a dappled mosaic of light and shadow across the polished floor.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the fluttering in your chest. Thoughts raced through your mind, but you pushed them aside, focusing instead on the steady rhythm of your heart. You knew that whatever happened next, you would face it with the courage that defined your lineage.

Turning briefly, you exchanged a glance with your father, his expression a mix of determination and unspoken fears. The weight of their shared responsibility settled upon you both, yet you felt an unwavering resolve take root within you.

"So, what do they want, surely it's more than just a pledge?" you whispered, casting a quick glance at your father before refocusing your attention on the door.

"I don't know; they haven't said," your father replied, his voice carrying a hint of unease. He stood abruptly, just as two attendants hurried into the room. Their movements were swift, almost frantic, as they draped the rich, regal cloak around his shoulders and carefully settled the ornate crown upon his head.

With each piece of regalia added, your father seemed to transform, drawing strength from the symbols of his authority. He sat back down with a deliberate motion, his posture now fierce and imposing, a stark contrast to the vulnerable slouch he had moments before.

"So they could just be here to announce they're going to blow us up," you sighed, exasperation lacing your voice.

"Well, let's try to stay positive," he replied, attempting to sound reassuring. "Perhaps they're only interested in acquiring our ships or our grain supplies."

"Yeah, let's hope so," you responded, a hint of doubt lingering in your tone as you shook your head.

"And try not to think about the Resistance," he urged, his voice a tense, hushed whisper. "Rumour has it, he can probe people's minds. Focus on anything else. The chipped tile over there, the frayed carpet, anything but them. It's the only way to keep them safe."

"But do you know how impossible it is to not think about something?!" you shot back, your eyes wide with a mix of disbelief and stress ratcheting through your veins.

Your father was about to reply when the door creaked open, its ancient hinges groaning in protest. A chilling hush fell over the room as a black masked figure stepped inside, flanked by a group of four storm troopers. The troopers' boots clacked menacingly against the polished marble floor as they marched forwards into the throne room, their expressions concealed behind their stark white helmets.

The small group advanced in unison, their movements marked by an eerie, almost robotic precision. They moved along the blood-red carpet that stretched across the middle of the room, the ominous crimson colour serving as a stark contrast to the cool, pale stone walls.

As they marched deeper into the room, a ginger-haired man followed closely behind them, his angry expression mirroring the tense atmosphere that had settled over the throne room. His footsteps echoed faintly against the marble floor, the sound a subtle reminder of the growing sense of dread that hung heavy in the air.

The man's ginger hair stood out in stark contrast to the black-clad figures surrounding him, and his bright, fiery locks seemed to almost clash with the somber, shadowy surroundings. His eyes burned with a furious intensity, his anger palpable even from across the vast expanse of the throne room.

The group stopped just a foot from the first of three steps that lead up to where you and your father were sitting. There was silence for a moment as the masked figure seemed to stare at your father.

"King James," came the chilling, robotic voice, sending a shiver down your spine. The figure appeared to take notice, as the mask turned toward you, then back to your father. The expression of disgust that had been lurking on the edges of your face now fully took hold. You despised this man.

"Supreme leader," your father said, bowing his head in a gesture of respect before looking back up at the figure.

Your eyes flickered nervously between the two figures—the cold, expressionless mask of Kylo Ren and the worn, determined face of your father. The mask was an unsettling void, giving away nothing, hiding the emotions and intentions of the man beneath. In contrast, your father's features were etched with a mixture of defiance and resignation, the lines of stress and worry more pronounced than ever. His eyes held the weight of the kingdom, every glance filled with unspoken fears and the heavy burden of impending decisions.

"We're here so you can pledge your allegiance to the First Order," announced the high-pitched voice of the unmasked man at the back of the group. The stormtroopers shifted aside, allowing him to step forward and position himself next to the masked figure.

"Yes, I'm aware," your father replied, rising from his seat. With deliberate, slow steps, he descended to stand before the two men. Lowering himself onto one knee, he bowed his head once more. "I pledge allegiance to the First Order," he declared, his voice carrying an unmistakable dryness.

Your father was a master of his emotions—an essential skill for a king. Yet, even he could barely contain the disgust that threatened to spill over as the pledge left his lips. His voice might have been steady, but the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed the turmoil within.

Rising to his full height, he met the gaze of the two men before him. His eyes, usually so unwavering, now held a storm of resentment and resistance. The ginger-haired man beside Kylo Ren allowed a small, satisfied smile to creep across his face, his eyes gleaming with smug satisfaction. It was as if the very tension in the room fuelled his sense of triumph, heightening the oppressive atmosphere that surrounded the throne.

"Well we accept your allegiance-" he began, but his words were suddenly cut off by the booming voice of the masked figure.

"No!" the masked man said, his voice calm but with an unmistakable sharpness that cut through the air like a knife's edge.

You swallowed hard, your gaze darting from your father to the two men, an overwhelming sense of panic clawing at your insides as uncertainty hung heavy in the air. Your heart raced, the silence in the room amplifying your fear of what was to come.

"Name your price," your father spoke, regaining his composure, though you could sense the underlying tension in his voice. He was making a valiant effort to appear unfazed by the sudden outburst. You frowned, puzzled for a moment, before the realisation dawned on you—he was trying to negotiate.

You watched in anticipation, your heart pounding, as the masked man remained eerily silent, his features unreadable behind the dark visor. The room held its collective breath, the weight of unspoken possibilities hanging heavily in the air.

"We have an army, an abundance of ships, and a great harvest," your father continued, listing the formidable resources of your planet with an air of practiced diplomacy. His voice was steady, determined to project strength.

He paused briefly, searching for the right words to sway the masked figure standing before him, his mind racing to offer every possible advantage your kingdom held. But as he hesitated, the uncertainty of what the masked man truly wanted loomed larger, a shadow casting itself over hopes of peaceful resolution.

"Her" spoke the man, pointing over at you. The ginger man frowned confused, clearly taken aback by this unexpected turn. He looked at the masked figure, then back at you, puzzlement etched across his face.

Even your father seemed momentarily stunned, his eyebrows knitting together in a clear display of confusion. He looked at the man, then over at you, his eyes scanning your face for a moment before he shook his head slightly, as if trying to dislodge this unexpected piece of information.

You swallowed, feeling your heart rate quicken as the reality of the situation began to sink in. You looked back at the masked man, your gaze meeting the empty, unreadable eyes of the mask.

"What?" your father said out loud, clearly annoyed and confused. The anger and frustration in his voice was palpable, reflecting the gravity of the situation that had taken such a sudden, unexpected turn.

“You heard him," said the ginger man, composing himself and standing up straighter, his earlier confusion rapidly replaced by a grim resolve. His voice carried a cold finality as he reiterated, "Her or your planet burns."

You turned to your father, eyes wide with shock and a burgeoning fear that threatened to overwhelm you. The room seemed to close in, the dire ultimatum echoing off the high stone walls.

"No," your father responded, every word laced with venom as he struggled to rein in his simmering anger. His voice, low and dangerous, reverberated with the restrained fury of a man on the brink.

"Very well," spoke the masked figure, his voice calm and detached, as if the fate of millions hinged on nothing more than routine. With a deliberate turn, he began to walk away, his cloak trailing behind him like a shadow of impending doom.

"Hux, send a message to the star base," he commanded without pause, the authority in his tone leaving no room for doubt. "Tell them to charge the weapon."

The ginger man muttered a curt "yes, sir," his voice barely audible yet loaded with obedience. As he moved to carry out the order, your mind raced, the weight of the situation crashing down on you like a tidal wave. Details blurred into a chaotic swirl—a montage of fleeting images: the looming star base, the weapon's ominous glow, the potential annihilation of everything you held dear.

You could feel your heartbeat quicken, each thud echoing louder in your ears as you came to the sudden realisation of what was going to happen. The gravity of the threat hung heavily in the air, a silent testament to the powerlessness that threatened to consume you. Your eyes darted around the room, desperately seeking a way out, a solution, anything to stop the impending disaster.

Time seemed to stretch, each second expanding into an eternity as you grappled with the terrifying reality. The fate of your planet, your people, and everyone you loved rested on a knife's edge, teetering precariously towards destruction.

"Wait!" you yelled, your voice cutting through the tension as you swiftly rose from your seat. You walked quickly to stand next to your father, feeling the weight of every eye in the room upon you. "We agree to your terms!"

The masked man stopped abruptly, as though time itself had halted. He turned sharply to face you, the hollow gaze of his mask fixed on you, unreadable and unnerving.

"What are you doing?" your father whispered urgently, his voice a mixture of disbelief and fear. The two of you stared at the masked figure, the room around you silent, the air thick with anticipation.

"My life for the life of everyone on this planet, that's an easy decision to make," you whispered back, your voice unwavering despite the turmoil inside. You clenched your jaw, steeling yourself against the wave of emotions threatening to break your resolve.

Your father's eyes bore into yours, a mix of pride, anger, and profound sorrow swirling within them. Though he feared for your safety, he understood the courage it took to make such a sacrifice. A flicker of anguish passed over his face as he struggled with the decision before him.

"I can't let you do that!" he said, turning towards you with a desperation that mirrored the fear and concern in his eyes. His voice was strained, laden with the weight of impending grief. You couldn't bring yourself to look at him; it was too painful. The bond between a parent and child made more fragile by the terrible choice you faced.

You could feel his eyes on you, a tangible presence that tugged at your heart. His gaze was a plea, a silent protest following every step you took as you walked steadily towards the supreme leader, a figure shrouded in menace and power.

As you drew within two feet of him, the air seemed to thicken, charged with a mixture of fear and anticipation. Two stormtroopers moved with precise coordination, falling into step beside you, their armour clinking softly in the silence. They were a physical barrier, both protection and cage, guiding you past the masked figure whose dark presence loomed over everything like a storm cloud.

You sensed the supremacy of the leader without needing to see him—it was in the way the room shifted focus, how the very atmosphere seemed to bend around his will. Yet, your resolve was unshaken, even as the enormity of the situation bore down on you, solidifying the path you had chosen.

***** 

You stood at the base of the ramp leading up to Kylo's imposing ship, feeling the cool metal beneath your feet. The stormtroopers flanked you, their blasters pointed subtly, yet firmly, ordering you to stop. At the top of the ramp, you caught sight of Kylo Ren and a man you now identified as Hux locked in a heated exchange. Hux's face was a vivid palette of emotion—shifting from frustration to something close to fury, his skin flushed a deep crimson.

As you watched, Kylo leaned in, his voice low and potent, saying something that seemed to cut through the tension like a blade. Hux's expression shifted dramatically, morphing from anger to a mix of understanding and surprise. With a sharp nod, he gestured for the stormtroopers to bring you up the ramp.

One of the soldiers prodded you gently but insistently with the hilt of their blaster, urging you forward. You hesitated for a fraction of a second before stepping onto the ramp. Each step felt deliberate, as if you were crossing an invisible boundary into something unknown.

Your gaze fell upon the masked figure awaiting your arrival. You swallowed hard, instinctively averting your eyes from the penetrating void of the mask. The closer you got, the more the air itself seemed to hum with Kylo's aura, it was a palpable force, an electric tension that sent shivers down your spine.

As you reached the top, your eyes lowered, coming to rest at his feet, clad in imposing black boots. "I know what you are," he intoned, his voice smooth yet filled with an unyielding authority. With a subtle wave of his hand, an invisible force gripped you, halting you mid-step. Your body betrayed you, unable to move. He regarded you, from head to toe, his dark eyes obscured yet so watchful beneath the mask.

As if satisfied with his appraisal, Kylo snapped his fingers. Instantly, everything veiled into blackness, your world plunging into a silent void.

As the world faded away, your body went limp, collapsing without any awareness of the fall. But before you could hit the cold metal floor, a pair of strong arms swiftly enveloped you. Kylo Ren caught you with surprising gentleness, holding you securely against his chest.

He scooped you up effortlessly, cradling you in his arms as if you weighed nothing, the dark fabric of his cloak brushing against your skin. You were draped like a bride, unconscious and oblivious to your surroundings.

Without hesitation, he turned, his footsteps echoing with a sense of purpose as he carried you up the ship's ramp. The interior loomed ahead, a cavernous entrance leading into the heart of the vessel. The stormtroopers stepped aside, allowing him to pass, their blasters lowered in deference.

Inside the ship, the atmosphere changed, becoming cooler and dimly lit, cast in shades of charcoal and steel. The mechanical hum of the vessel was a constant, rhythmic presence as Kylo moved with determined strides, his grip steady and unyielding.

As he carried you deeper into the ship, the door behind you sealed shut with an ominous hiss, isolating you within the stark and foreign environment. Your unconscious form lay still, cradled in the arms of a man you didn’t know.

*****

  You opened your eyes, blinking rapidly, as if attempting to clear a foggy veil. Your head was fuzzy, and you felt a little sick. You sat up, rubbing your eyes, and tried to get your stomach to stop churning. It felt like you had been hit with a ton of bricks.

As the fog slowly drifted out of your head, you took in your surroundings. You were lying in a bed, one that was unfamiliar to you. The mattress was plush, offering a comforting respite from the turmoil you had just experienced.

The room was dimly lit, the only source of illumination being a cluster of crimson-hued lamps that bathed the space in a warm, yet eerie glow. The bed you were in was draped in black sheets, a stark contrast to the deep red walls that seemed to pulse with a life of their own.

A deep voice echoed from somewhere off to your left. It was a voice that was both strange and yet somehow familiar, like a distant memory that was just unreachable.

"You're with the Resistance," came a deep, menacing voice from somewhere off to your left. The words struck like a bolt, startling you into full alertness. Your eyes darted through the shadows, seeking the owner of the voice with growing trepidation.

You heard the subtle shuffle of fabric, a sinister sound akin to curtains catching the wind. A figure emerged, stepping into the crimson-tinged light with an air of imposing authority. His presence was suffocating, a tangible weight pressing down on the room.

For a moment, confusion gripped you, but then you discerned the familiar attire, a dark ensemble marked by flowing robes and a commanding cape. "Kylo Ren," you whispered, barely able to mask the awe and fear in your voice.

His eyes were captivatingly dark, possessing a depth that seemed to draw you in with an unspoken promise of mystery and danger. His features were sharply angular, giving his face a striking structure that exuded an undeniably magnetic presence. Despite the intensity of his gaze, there was something undeniably appealing about the way he looked, a rugged handsomeness that was both disarming and commanding.

Framing his face was a mane of black wavy hair, cascading with perfect imperfection, adding a wild yet controlled allure to his appearance. Each strand seemed to catch the dim crimson light, creating an almost halo-like effect that contrasted with the shadowy aura he projected.

"Where are they?" he inquired, his voice a mesmerising blend of deep resonance and melodious charm, captivating you and compelling you to hang onto every syllable. "I know you were helping them, where are they?" he continued, this time his voice slightly angrier than the last.

"I don't know," you replied in a calm, almost monotone voice, maintaining steady eye contact with him.

He clenched his jaw, and you could almost see him shake with anger as his lips curled into a snarl.

"WHERE ARE THEY!" he bellowed in a sudden outburst of fury, the veins in his forehead and neck standing out prominently as he flew forward in a flurry of wrath. As he approached, the sleeves of his fitted black uniform shifted ever so slightly, revealing a tantalising glimpse of the well-defined muscles beneath.

Gracefully and with unexpected elegance, he wrapped a gloved hand around your throat, pinning you to the wall in a swift, precise motion. The black uniform fabric glided smoothly against your skin, heightening the sense of danger and intensity of the moment.

He brought his face close to yours, his eyes locking with yours in a gaze that seemed to peer straight into your soul. Despite the danger, you couldn't help but notice the captivating intensity they held, a mix of power and allure that was impossible to ignore. Your hands instinctively went to his wrist, feeling the strength beneath the leather, as he kept his grasp on your throat—firm enough to keep you pinned to the wall, yet loose enough for you to draw breath with minimal difficulty.

Although you knew you should be scared, terrified even, at the thought of how easily this man could end your life, a part of you was drawn to him, intrigued by the magnetism that radiated from him like an irresistible force.

Suddenly, your father's words echoed through your mind, a warning that sliced through the haze of emotions: "He can probe people's minds."

You realised what he was about to do so you tried to think of anything but the Resistance, your mind hummed, possibilities flying through it before you focused on the man in front of you. The attraction was undeniable, and despite the dangerous circumstances, you found yourself captivated by him.

The soft soapy scent of him washed over you, and you breathed it in slowly, savouring the intoxicating blend of cleanliness and allure. Your eyes were drawn to his lips, their red, plump fullness igniting a curiosity that burned hot within you.

The image of running your finger down his jawline danced through your mind, a tantalising promise of what might be if circumstances were different. Your fingers itched to imagine the sensation of his hair tangled through them, a mix of anticipation and desire.

In that moment, you decided to think about him, allowing the allure of the forbidden to consume you, even amidst the chaos that surrounded you. His head twitched, and his face was overcome with confusion, but the pull you felt towards him was undeniable.

He dropped his hand, and as you crumpled to the floor, drawing in a breath and putting your hand to your throat, rubbing it gently, the reality of the situation seemed to fade away, replaced instead by the intensity of your feelings towards him.

Your gaze locked with his, and for a brief moment, you clenched your jaw, acknowledging the danger that was so inextricably tied to your attraction.

You stood up and came face to face with him, he took a step forwards, and you took a step backwards, your back touching the familiar cool metal wall. Your heart hammered as his eyes scanned your face, you frowned and stared at him too. This took him by surprise once again.

"I'm not scared of you" you whispered, you watched his chest rise and fall as he frowned again and bit his lip.

His eyes, intense and probing, scanned every detail of your face, creating a spark of awareness between you. You frowned, meeting his gaze head-on with a mixture of defiance and curiosity, refusing to be the one who looked away first.

The boldness of your response seemed to take him by surprise once again, his expression momentarily softening as he weighed the unexpected allure of your resolve.

You thought about your hands slowly unbuttoning his tight black uniform, the smooth, cool sensation of the fabric slipping through your fingers evoking a sense of anticipation. As the uniform fell to the floor, you took a moment to admire the expanse of his exposed chest. Running your fingertips lightly across his skin, you felt a shiver of response quiver through him, a barely perceptible reaction.

You continued exploring him in your mind letting your imagination run wild. Drawing him close, so your lips were almost touching as your hands fell to the waistband of his trousers, your fingers began to dance across the fabric teasingly. The subtle pressure of your touch against the contours of his body was both a promise and a challenge, an invitation to explore the depths of desire that simmered just beneath the surface.

As your fingers grazed against the fabric, you could see the effect it had on him, the way his breath caught in his throat, the slightest tremor that ran through his muscles. It was a dance of seduction, a delicate interplay between attraction and control, as you continued to weave this spellbinding web of allure and temptation. It was working, you could hear how ragged his breathing had become. The way that he looked at you.

He turned back around and stormed over to you, pushing you forcibly against the wall, holding your hands either side of your head, his face just an inch from yours.

"What the hell are you?" he snarled, his voice a low, dangerous growl. The veins in his neck and forehead stood out prominently, a testament to the intensity of his anger. His eyes flashed with a fiery rage, burning with an unspoken challenge as he loomed over you.

Your heart hammered in your chest, a relentless rhythm that threatened to betray the fear that coursed through your veins. Despite this, you did your best to maintain your composure, your expression calm and collected. A part of you knew that showing fear would only serve to feed into his ego, a realisation that fuelled your determination to remain defiant in the face of his anger.

Silently, you resolved that if this was to be your last stand, then you would make sure to spend your final moments doing everything in your power to piss him off, rather than cowering in submission.

"Horny?" you asked before placing a small kiss on his lips.

His expression softened momentarily, a flicker of confusion crossing his face as he stepped back, releasing your hands. Despite his anger, curiosity sparked in his eyes, puzzled at how you managed to show him only what you wanted. The conflicting emotions of frustration and intrigue warred within him.

Why did you let him see just that? His frustration grew at not being able to extract the information he so desperately sought. But another part of him was unsettled, disturbed by how these glimpses into your mind made him feel vulnerable and left him craving more.

Seizing the moment, you boldly took a step toward him, watching as he instinctively retreated. The sudden reversal of power invigorated you, infusing you with a newfound sense of control and confidence.

"You're Force sensitive," he whispered, his voice low and tinged with an awe that sent a shiver down your spine. For a brief moment, it felt as if time stood still as his realisation sunk in. 

"Only slightly, but enough," you replied cautiously, a hint of unease creeping into your tone as he stepped closer, encroaching on your personal space. His gaze bore into you, a mix of admiration and intrigue swirling in his intense eyes. "So?" you whispered, your heart racing at his sudden shift in demeanour, unsure of what this revelation would mean for you.

"So that makes you far more interesting and valuable than I first thought," he murmured, his voice smooth yet charged with intensity. His proximity was electric, with barely an inch separating your bodies as he leaned in closer. You could feel the warmth radiating from him, amplifying the tension in the air.

His expression was one of fascination, a spark of something deeper lingering beneath the surface. "Very intriguing indeed..." he continued, almost as if he were savouring the implications of what this knowledge meant, his curiosity igniting a new kind of hunger within him.