#so he was chasing me around in the air and it was so cool i was so fast flying around like in a minecraft elytra course

[cowboybeepboop]

Hunted

"What are you doing to me, little one? You're driving me insane.."

Pairing: Sergei Kravinoff x fem! Reader 

Genre: Smut

Word count: 4.5k 

Summary: Sergei finds you lost in the woods, comes to your rescue, and seduces you all in one day. 

Warnings: Mentions of being chased/harassed by men, being hunted, uses of “little one”, a size kink, unprotected sex, oral (both receiving)

a/n: Guys I’m so obsessed with Kraven omg, since I’m on break right now I’m grinding the fuck out of writing. also, I didn't proofread (per usual) I hope you all enjoy and send any requests you might have my way

You’re a little lost, well more than a little. Somehow you ended up being taken by a few strange men, and managed to get free but what good does that do if you’re lost, cold, alone, and limping in the Siberian forests? 

You drop down to rest, wrapping your arms around your body as the cool air assaults you. Trying to think of what to do next, while keeping in mind that there are three crazed men on the hunt for you. 

Kravinoff observes silently as he watches you drop to the ground, wrapping your arms around yourself to keep warm. His expression remains stoic, his eyes taking in every little detail about you. As he watches you shivering, he can't help but feel a small pang of...sympathy? No, that can't be right.

After a few moments of silent observation, Sergei finally breaks the silence, his voice gruff and blunt. "Lost, little one?"

You flinch at the sound of his voice, immediately reaching for a branch to attempt to defend yourself. "G-go away.." you murmur weakly, teeth chattering as you speak, your eyes trained on the floor. 

Kravinoff raises an eyebrow at your display, his lips twitching into a slight smirk as he sees you reaching for a branch to use as a weapon. 

He slowly takes a step closer, his heavy boots crunching in the snow as he does so. "You're a feisty one, aren't you? But that weak voice and shivering body are hardly intimidating."

"Please.." you murmur, eyes watery as you gaze up at him with puppy dog eyes, reminiscent of something his younger brother would do. "Please don't hurt me.." 

Sergei's expression softens for a moment as he looks down at you, the puppy dog eyes tugging at a very small part of his heart that he's long since tried to bury. "Hurt you? You think I'm going to hurt you?"

He takes a few more steps towards you, his eyes roaming over your form, taking in the sight of your shivering and shivering body. "You're trembling, little one. And that limp, you're hurt."

"It's not that bad, I can walk," you whisper, watching as he approaches you slowly. 

"Not that bad, hm?" Sergei lets out a scoff, his dark eyes flickering over your body. "You're shivering from the cold, and you're clearly hurt. You can barely stand, let alone walk."

He crouches down in front of you, his large frame towering over you. "Tell me, what's your name, little one?"

"My name is Y/N.. there's these guys, they're hunting me. I don't, I don't know what to do." Your expression is pleading as you weakly stand up, shakey voice matching the trembles of your body. 

Sergei's expression darkens at the mention of other men hunting you. He glances around, his eyes scanning the area like a predator watching for prey.

"Hunters, huh? And they're after you. Interesting." Sergei's eyes return to you, his hand instinctively going to rest on the handle of one of the knives holstered on his belt.

"Why are they hunting you? What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything," you lean toward him, seeking the warmth that's radiating from his body. "At least I don't think I did? All I remember was waking up in a tent, they said that we were going to play a game.. I-" you trail off, a small tear falling down your cheek. 

Sergei watches as you lean towards him, a small pang of sympathy shooting through him again when he notices the tear rolling down your cheek. He's not used to comforting people, but something about you triggers a protective instinct within him.

"A game... What kind of game, little one?" He asks, his voice gruff but surprisingly gentle. He gently reaches out and places a hand on your shoulder to steady you.

"He said they would hunt me.." you mutter, voice barely above a whisper as a whistle sounds through the air. You press your body to his, eyes wide with fear, "i.. think they're getting close." 

Sergei's expression hardens as he hears the whistle through the air, his hand instinctively tightening on the handle of his knife. He glances around once more, his senses on high alert.

"Shhh," he murmurs, his other hand gently reaching out to hold you closer to him. "Stay quiet. They won't find you."

He pulls you to his chest, his large frame shielding you partially from view as he scans the woods once more.

You bury your reddened face into his chest, breathing in his musk and seeking safety in his grasp. Your arms move to cling to his waist, holding yourself closer to him. 

Sergei's nostrils flare as you bury your face into his chest, the scent of your skin, mixed with the musk of the forest, filling his senses. He can feel your arms clinging to his waist, the feel of your body pressed against his stirring something deep within him. He slowly reaches up and rests his hand on the back of your head, gently holding you against him.

"Don't worry, little one," he murmurs gruffly, his eyes still scanning the woods. "You're safe with me." You nod against his chest, too tired to speak. 

Sergei can feel the exhaustion radiating off you, your weary body leaning heavily against him. His fingers gently brush through your hair in a small, comforting gesture.

"You're exhausted," he murmurs, his voice still gruff but softer than before. "Let's find somewhere we can rest and get you warmed up."

Sergei shifts ever so slightly, his large frame adjusting so he's able to lift you gently into his arms, cradling you like a child.

You gasp as he effortlessly picks you up, arms instinctively going to his neck. "Where will we go?" you murmur.

Sergi glances down at you, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck, and a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He enjoys the feel of you in his arms, the way your body fits snugly against his.

"Somewhere safe," he replies, his voice gruff. "Somewhere these 'hunters' won't find us."

Carefully, Sergei begins moving through the forest, his powerful legs carrying both of you through the deep snow with ease. You nuzzle your face against his shoulder, finding him comforting in the vast forest. 

As you nuzzle your face against his shoulder, Sergei can't help but notice how much he's enjoying the feel of you in his arms. Your warmth against his chest, the soft sound of your breathing, and the gentle feel of you nuzzling against him.

He continues to move through the forest, weaving through trees and navigating the deep snow like a natural tracker. Every now and then, he glances down at you, his eyes taking in your tired, but now tranquil face.

You drift to sleep in his arms, body going limp as he continues to trek toward his home. Bringing you closer and closer to a warm safe shelter. 

Sergei feels your body go limp in his arms, signaling that you've fallen asleep. His arms instinctively tighten their grip on you, holding you securely against his chest as he continues to trek through the snowy forest.

Each step brings you both closer to his home, a small cabin nestled deep in the forest, away from the chaos of the outside world. As he approaches the cabin, Sergei can't help but feel an odd sense of protectiveness over you.

He gently pushes open the door to his cabin and steps inside, careful not to wake you. The cabin is warm and cozy, illuminated by the soft glow of a fireplace in the corner.

Sergei carries you over to a large, comfortable armchair and carefully sets you down, ensuring you're settled and comfortable. He takes a moment to gaze down at you, his eyes roaming over your tired face as you sleep.

He sighs deeply, his hands resting on the arms of the chair as he contemplates what to do next. You stir slightly at the lack of his body against yours, your arms reach out, seeking him once more. 

As you stir and reach out for him, searching for the warmth of his body, Sergei can't help but smirk to himself. He's not used to being sought after like this, and it brings an odd feeling of satisfaction to him.

He steps closer, gently taking hold of your seeking hands and holding them in his own large, calloused ones.

"I'm right here, little one," he murmurs gruffly, his voice low so as not to startle you.

As the morning sunlight streams through the windows, bathing the cabin in a warm, golden light, you stir in the soft, comfortable embrace of the armchair.

Sergei, who had spent the night keeping watch by the fireplace, notices your movements and rises silently from his chair. He watches as you pull the soft cloth blanket up to cover your face, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

He takes a step closer, leaning against the back of the armchair, and speaks in a low, gruff voice. "Morning, little one."

"You never told me your name.." you murmur, sliding out of the chair and sleepily moving to his side. 

Sergei's eyes roam over your sleepy form as you move to stand beside him, a small chuckle escaping his lips as he hears your question.

"I suppose I didn't," he says gruffly, his eyes watching you with a mixture of amusement and something else, something he can't quite place.

He lifts a hand and gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, before replying, "My name is Sergei. Sergei Kravinoff."

"Sergei.." You repeat, settling onto the ground next to him, basking in the heat of the flames.

As you say his name, a small shiver of satisfaction runs through Sergei's body. He can't remember the last time anyone has spoken his name with such soft, sweet lips.

He watches as you settle onto the floor next to him, your body seeking the warmth of the flames. He can't help but admire your small, fragile form, your skin flushed and weary but still so very beautiful.

He glances down at you, his voice still gruff but softer than usual. "You should eat something, little one. You must be hungry."

Your face lights up at the mention of food, your stomach growling as if on cue. "I am a little hungry.." 

A small, satisfied smile tugs at the corners of Sergei's lips as he watches your face light up at the mention of food, and hears your stomach growl in confirmation.

"Looks like that settles it," he says gruffly, pushing himself up off the floor. "I'll fix you something to eat. Stay there and warm up."

Without waiting for a reply, he strides over to the small kitchen in the cabin, starting to prepare a meal.

You turn to watch his movements, craving his company at your side once again. A feeling of heat rises in your stomach as you gulp, eyes glued to his muscular frame. 

Sergei can feel your eyes on him as he moves around the kitchen, his muscular frame easily handling the preparation of the simple meal. He can't help but detect a hint of something in your gaze, a heat that he's not sure he quite understands.

He glances over at you, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he meets your gaze. "What is it, little one?" he asks gruffly, his voice filled with a mix of curiosity and mild amusement.

Your cheeks flush a bright pink, causing you to shake your head. "Nothing.. it's nothing." you reply softly.

Sergei's smirk grows wider as he notices the bright pink flush on your cheeks, knowing that he's caused a reaction in you. He can't help but be captivated by the innocent, shy look on your face.

He lets out a gruff chuckle, returning to his task of preparing the meal. "It's not nothing," he says, his voice holding a hint of playfulness. "You're staring at me, little one. I can feel your gaze on me. What are you thinking?"

"You're just very big.." you whisper, shocked by the words coming from your mouth. Clenching the blanket tight around you, you carefully adjust your clothes, feeling your panties becoming wet.

Sergei's eyes widen slightly at your words, a soft chuckle escaping his lips at the innocent bluntness of your statement. He can't help but be amused by your shyness, your flushed cheeks, and the way your body fidgets under the blanket.

He turns to face you fully, his eyes roaming over your form, drinking in the sight of you. He can sense the change in you, the heat in your body, and he can't help but wonder if you're even aware of it. 

"Is that so?" he asks gruffly, his voice holding a hint of something else, something deeper.

You nod, mind wandering to.. other parts of him, and how big it might be. "Mhm.." you murmur, looking up at him as he brings you a plate of food.

As you nod and confirm his words, Sergei can't help but notice the way your eyes wander over his frame, lingering on certain parts of his anatomy. He knows what you're thinking, and a small smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.

He approaches you, holding out the plate of food. As he does, his eyes lock onto yours, his voice gruff as he speaks again. "Eat up, little one. You need your strength."

"Thank you Sergei.." you smile up at him, taking the plate and beginning to take a few small bites, your mind still focused on him. 

Sergei watches as you take the plate and begin to eat, his gaze studying you intently. He notices the small, subtle things, the way your eyes wander over his form, the way your lips move as you chew.

A small, amused smile tugs at the corner of his lips as he watches you, his own thoughts wandering to the same subject as yours.

"You're welcome, little one," he grunts, his voice gruff and low. "Make sure you eat all of it. Can't have you wasting away on me."

"Yes sir," you murmur between bites. Comfortable silence fills the air as he takes a seat next to you, his shoulder lightly brushing yours.

As you finish your meal, the silence of the cabin is filled with a comfortable stillness. Sergei lowers himself down to sit beside you, taking a moment to admire the sight of you as you finish eating.

His shoulder lightly brushed yours, the contact sending a small shiver through his body. Despite his gruff and stoic exterior, he can't help but be drawn to you, your innocence and vulnerability stirring something deep within him.

"Feeling better now, little one?" he asks, his voice a low, gravelly murmur.

"Much better," you grin, leaning against him, your hand falling to his lap. You're craving more, more of his touch, more of him, you just need him. 

As you lean against him and your hand falls to his lap, Sergei's body tenses momentarily, his breath catching in his chest. He can feel the heat radiating off your body, the slight weight of your hand on his thigh, and it awakening something within him.

He can't help but glance down at your hand, then back up at your face, a mix of surprise, desire, and a hint of hesitation in his gaze. "Little one..." he growls, his voice deep and hoarse.

"Yes, Sergei?" you breathe out, biting down on your bottom lip with desire. 

Sergei's eyes are fixated on your biting your lip, the sight sending a wave of heat through him. He can feel his body reacting to your closeness, to the desire in your voice.

He leans closer to you, his breath tickling your ear as he speaks, his voice a low, gruff whisper, "What are you doing to me, little one? You're driving me insane.."

You gasp as his voice sends shivers down your body, leaning closer to him you find a small amount of confidence. You slide your hand up his though, nearing the place you're most curious about. "Sergei.. I'm curious about something.."

As your hand slowly slides up his thigh, nearing a sensitive spot, Sergei's body tenses once more, his breath catching in his throat. He can feel the heat of your touch, the desire in your movements, and it's driving him wild.

He glances down at your hand, then back up at your face, his eyes dark and intense. "What is it, little one?" he growls, his voice thick with desire. "What are you curious about?"

"How big is it?" you gulp, looking up at him through your lashes as you settle between his legs. Almost salivating at the thought of seeing his cock.

As your words sink in, and your body moves between his legs, Sergei's breath hitches in his chest, a low growl escaping his lips. He can feel the heat in your body, the desire in your gaze, and it's driving him crazy.

He looks down at you, his eyes dark and ravenous, as he responds in a low, guttural tone, "Are you sure you want to know, little one?"

"Mhm, I'm really curious," you whisper, hand sliding to the buckle of his belt and slowly maneuvering to remove it. "Is this okay?"

Sergei watches as your hand moves to his belt, slowly working to undo the buckle. Your touch is innocent yet filled with a desire that he can't deny.

He takes a deep breath, his chest rising and falling as he contemplates your question. "You're very forward, little one," he says gruffly, his voice thick with a mix of desire and surprise. "But yes.. it's okay."

You slowly remove his garments, moving to free his hardness. Your body trembles in anticipation, desire coursing through you.

As you remove his garments, revealing his hardness, Sergei's breath hitches in his chest, his body trembling slightly as you bare him to your gaze.

He watches you, his eyes roaming over your face, studying the mix of desire and innocence in your expression. He can feel his own desire growing stronger by the second, a mixture of primal need and unexpected gentleness.

"Look at you..." he mutters gruffly, his voice thick with want. "You're so, so curious.."

Your hand wraps around his thick hard dick, eyes wide as you take in the sheer size of it. "I want to taste you," your gaze is focused on his length as you stick your tongue out, licking his tip slightly.

As you wrap your hand around his length, a low, guttural moan escapes his lips, his body tensing at the feel of your touch.

He watches as you lick his tip, your gaze fixed on his manhood, and it drives him crazy. The heat in your eyes, the desire in your movements, it's driving him to the edge.

"Is that so, little one?" he growls, his voice thick and strained. "You want to taste me, do you?"

You nod, lips wrapping around his throbbing cock. Your mouth is full of his manhood, eyes fluttering shut as you moan at the taste of his precum.

With a deep, shaky breath, Sergei allows you to continue, his eyes fluttering shut as he feels the warmth of your mouth engulfs his cock. The sensation sends waves of pleasure through his body, his muscles tightening and his heart racing. 

His hands instinctively move to the back of your head, guiding your movements gently as you take him in deeper, your soft moans muffled by his flesh. The feeling of your wetness and the gentle suction as you work your mouth over him is almost too much to handle, and he has to fight the urge to thrust into you.

Sergei's eyes snap open as your eager mouth continues to explore him, his grip on the back of your head tightening slightly as he watches you with a mix of hunger and amazement. "You're a natural, little one," he grunts, his voice strained as he feels himself getting closer to the edge. 

His hips begin to move almost imperceptibly, matching the rhythm of your mouth. The warmth, the wetness, the way your tongue swirls around his head – it's all too much for him to handle. He can feel his orgasm building, the tension coiling in his stomach and balls, begging for release. But he doesn't want this to end yet. He wants more of you, all of you.

With a sudden urgency, he pulls you off his cock, panting heavily. "Not yet," he growls, his eyes burning with desire as he looks down at you. He lifts you up and carries you to the bed, laying you down gently before climbing over you, his large frame looming over you protectively. 

His hand moves to the hem of your shirt, sliding it up to reveal your soft, pale stomach. His lips follow the trail of his hand, kissing and nibbling gently, leaving a path of heat in their wake. 

You gasp and arch up into his touch, your own desires spiraling out of control. His rough hands begin to unbutton your pants, his gaze never leaving yours as he slowly reveals your most intimate secrets.

As he unbuttons your pants, Sergei's eyes are dark with need, watching your every reaction with a predatory focus. 

He can feel the heat between your legs, smell the sweet scent of your arousal, and it's all he can do to not rip the rest of your clothes off in one swift move. But he holds back, enjoying the slow, methodical unveiling of your body.

He slides your pants down, his calloused hands brushing against the softness of your skin. His eyes are drawn to the small, lacy underwear you're wearing, the stark contrast to the ruggedness of the cabin and his own attire not lost on him. 

With a smirk, he hooks his fingers under the elastic and pulls them down, revealing your bare, shaven pussy.

"So beautiful," he murmurs, his voice thick with lust. His eyes roam over the delicate folds of your sex, the sight of your wetness making his cock throb even more. He leans down and presses a kiss to your inner thigh, his breath hot and heavy against your skin.

You whimper at his gentle touch, your body quivering with anticipation. "Sergei," you breathe out his name like a prayer, your legs falling open wider to give him better access. You can't believe this is happening, but all you want is for him to keep going.

His mouth follows the path of his kisses, moving closer to your core. When he reaches your pussy, he lingers for a moment, his breath fanning over your sensitive flesh before his tongue darts out to taste you. The sensation is electric, sending bolts of pleasure shooting through your body as he explores you with the same curiosity and hunger he had when you first touched him.

"Oh god," you moan, your hands fisting in the sheets as his tongue delves deeper into your wetness. He licks and sucks, his beard scraping gently against your thighs, sending sparks of pleasure through you. Your hips buck against his mouth, seeking more, begging for it.

Sergei growls in satisfaction, the sound vibrating against your clit, sending you spiraling closer to the edge. His hands move to grip your hips, holding you in place as he devours you, his tongue swirling and flicking with expert precision. You're lost in the feeling, your world narrowing down to the warmth of his mouth and the exquisite pleasure he's giving you.

And as your orgasm builds, he slows down, teasing you, making you beg for release. "Please," you whine, your voice desperate and needy.

He looks up at you, his eyes dark with lust and something else, something that makes your stomach flip. "Please what, little one?" he asks, his voice a low rumble that resonates through your core.

"Please, make me cum," you plead, your voice barely above a whisper.

With a smirk, he goes back to work, his tongue and lips bringing you closer and closer to the precipice until, with one final, hard suck, you're tumbling over, your body shaking with the intensity of your climax. You cry out his name as waves of pleasure wash over you, leaving you trembling and breathless beneath him.

Sergei watches you come with a fierce satisfaction, his cock pulsing with his own need. He moves up your body, his eyes locked on yours as he positions himself at your entrance. "Are you ready for me, little one?" he asks, his voice a gruff whisper.

You nod, your eyes glazed with passion as you reach up to pull him closer. "Yes," you pant, your body arching up to meet his. "I need you inside me."

And with that, he pushes in, filling you up with one long, slow stroke that has you gasping for air. Your bodies fit together perfectly, like two puzzle pieces finally coming together. He begins to move, his thrusts deep and measured, his gaze never leaving yours as he takes you, claiming you as his in this moment of raw, primal passion.

With a fierce growl, Sergei slams into you, his cock stretching your tight pussy as he takes what he's craved since the moment he laid eyes on you. The feeling of you, warm and wet around him, is indescribable, and he can't hold back any longer. 

He begins to pound into you, each stroke hitting just the right spot, making you scream out in ecstasy. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him deeper, your heels digging into his muscular back as you meet his rhythm, urging him to go faster, harder. 

The bed beneath you creaks and shakes with the force of his thrusts, the headboard slamming into the wall in a steady rhythm that matches the beating of your heart. The room is filled with the sounds of your passion, the slapping of skin on skin, the harsh breaths, and desperate moans that fill the air like a symphony of desire. 

Your nails dig into the smooth skin of his back, leaving swollen red marks on his tanned skin, your pussy clenching around him as he continues to thrust into you. With each move of his hips, you become more and more needy, gasping and moaning his name. 

Sergei’s movements stutter, his hips pushing flush against yours, his head digging into your g-spot. His thick cock swells inside of you as your grip around him, your body coaxing his orgasm out of him. 

He buries his face into your neck, moaning lowly as he fills you with his warmth. You arch up into him, spasming around his still-hard length. 

“Fuck, oh fuck…” you whine, eyes fluttering shut as he collapses onto the bed next to you, pulling you to his chest. 

[kruegerslov3r]

the dust motes danced in the afternoon sunbeams slanting through the apartment windows as y/n tidied. theyd shoved a stack of old magazines aside when a small, leather-bound notebook slipped from the shelf, landing with a soft thud on the hardwood floor. curious, they picked it up. the cover was worn smooth with age, the leather softened and darkened with time. there was no title, just the faint impression of what might have once been gold lettering.

y/n opened the book carefully. the pages were yellowed and brittle, filled with elegant, looping handwriting in faded ink. it wasn't a journal but a recipe book. each entry was meticulously written, not just the ingredients and instructions, but also little notes scribbled in the margins – "simon loves this with extra cinnamon," or "perfect for a rainy tuesday."

flipping further, a small, faded photograph slipped from between the pages. it depicted a younger simon, beaming mischievously, perched on a kitchen counter next to a woman with kind eyes and a warm smile. y/n recognized the woman instantly from a few framed photos around the apartment – simon's mother. a pang of bittersweet sadness touched her heart. y/n knew simon rarely spoke about his mother, who had passed away many years ago. this notebook was a precious relic, a tangible connection to a part of simon's life he kept carefully tucked away.

a thought sparked in y/n's mind. what better way to honor simon's mother than to bring her recipes back to life? they carefully selected two recipes – "grandma rose's apple cake," with a note in the margin, "simon's absolute favorite," and "hearty chicken soup," annotated with "lerfect for chasing away the blues."

the apartment, usually quiet and orderly, filled with the comforting chaos of cooking. y/n hummed softly as they measured flour and spices, the scent of cinnamon and apples filling the air. they imagined simon's mother in this very kitchen, creating these same dishes with love and care.

as the apple cake cooled on the kitchen counter and the chicken soup simmered on the stove, y/n set the table. they placed the worn recipe book in the center, open to the page of "grandma rose's apple cake," the faded photograph of simon and his mother tucked inside. when simon arrived home, he stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes widening as he took in the scene. the aroma of familiar comfort food hung in the air, an aroma he hadn’t realized he’d missed so deeply. he picked up the notebook, his fingers tracing his mother's handwriting, a mixture of surprise and emotion swirling in his eyes. y/n watched him, her heart full, knowing she had stumbled upon something truly special. this wasn't just about a meal; it was about memory, love, and the enduring power of food to connect us to the ones we cherish.

my dear grandmother passed away on saturday, and the first memory that came to mind was of her baking sweet rolls for my sister and me, which we enjoyed with milk. It saddens me to realize I will never again taste those rolls. rip, my dear. i will always love you.

[parkitrighthere]

Hey , will we get an update on AOP ? If not you mentioned we could get a sneak peak . Could we get that ?

Heyyy sweet anon!! How’s it going?? I hope you’re having the BEST day ever and soaking in all the Christmas magic!! I’m so sorry I didn’t check my inbox earlier, and well… rest is history, right? But hey, better late than never, right?? Sooo, here’s a little sneak peek for you, I hope you like it!

Okay, quick heads up:

This is the beginning of chapter 3. I mean, it’s not super exciting or anything yet (shocker, right?), but I promise it’ll do for now. I’m still working on the chapter, so cut me some slack. Also, I’ve realized I have a ridiculous amount of love for Kenji right now… like, why did I just say that out loud? 🤷‍♀️ Oh well, I did. #KenjiIsLife

So, here’s a little snippet (under the cut, obviously because suspense and all that jazz). Please try your best to like it, even though my dialogue game is still under construction. I swear, I’m leveling up my writing skills (slowly but surely). 😅 And seriously, tell me what you think, I’m dying to know!

And... uh, forgive me? Or maybe not? But, like, please? 🙈

Alright, here it goes—enjoy!

(Jimin have nothing to do with it. I merely posted him to distract you from all the mess I've posted)

The darkness wrapped the sky in its velvet shroud, a blend of endless black and the faint glow of stars. The moon hung high, heavy and luminous, as if holding up the weight of the heavens. Its light spilled through the open window, brushing across the room in silvery streaks, making the shadows dance on the walls. The cold air slipped in, sharp and biting, rushing past your face. You inhaled deeply, your chest rising as the chill pricked your skin.

It was already midnight, and sleeping wasn't an option. Your fingers gripped the edge of the windowsill, as you leaned forward, staring into the stillness of the night. The coolness of the wood beneath your palm punished you, but your mind was far away, caught in a storm you couldn’t quite name

 You weren’t crying—there were no tears left to shed. You weren’t angry either. The fiery edge of rage had dulled long ago, leaving behind an ache too stubborn to fade.

You exhaled sharply, your breath mingling within the cold air. It wasn’t sadness—not anymore. You’d come to terms with it after talking to Elizabeth.

Your shoulders slumped, and you rubbed at your temples, trying to massage away the tension. It wasn’t about you. It never had been. Your reflection in the window—dull eyes and a tired face—stared back, and you nodded at it, a soft chuckle skipping past your lips. Acceptance wasn’t a choice; it was the only option left.

 You thought enough about it, and one thing you grew certain of was that it was, and never would be, about you. You were ready to accept the bond—it was always about him. You knew you couldn’t keep trying alone. You tilted your head back, the moonlight catching the wet shine in your eyes, though no tears fell. It wasn’t how it worked. It couldn’t be.

 Slowly, you pulled back from the window, the cold air chasing after you. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you let out a shaky breath. You wouldn’t beg—not for him, not for love. No.

You couldn’t deny it, not to yourself at least—you wanted to try. More than anything. Your chest ached with the thought, your fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt as if clutching at the hope you refused to voice. You didn’t know much about him, not really, except one undeniable truth: he was intense, passionate, extreme. And so were his emotions—wild, consuming, and impossibly bright. But he hid them, masked them behind a wall so impenetrable that even you, his mate, couldn’t see through it.

Your hands trembled as you ran them through your hair, the strands tangling between your fingers. The memory of his dark, shimmering boba eyes flashed in your mind. You’d imagined them so many nights—staring at you, full of the love and affection you so desperately wanted. No, deserved. Didn’t you? And even if you didn’t, a part of you insisted he should give it anyway. Because weren’t you his mate? Your lips pressed into a thin line, and your jaw clenched as bitterness bubbled in your chest.

You had the right to him, didn’t you? But fate, cruel and merciless as it always was, had turned your bond into a twisted game. Or maybe it wasn’t fate at all. Maybe it was him—your mate, the one who could ignite every nerve in your body with a single glance but chose instead to keep his distance.

Your shoulders sagged, and you leaned back against the wall, letting the cold surface seep through your dress. You didn’t know why he kept you at arm’s length, why his indifference cut so deep. A sharp breath escaped your lips, your chest tightening. Did you even want to know? That was the question that kept you awake at night, gnawing at the edges of your sanity.

The air felt heavier now, as you straightened, your fingers curling into fists at your sides. You didn’t know the reason behind his indifference. But did you want to? That was a big question now. You wouldn’t beg. Not for a man’s attention, not for his love. You might crave him—God, you craved him with every fiber of your being. His presence, his touch, the way his voice seemed to echo in your mind long after he’d spoken. But you would cut yourself open before you begged.

You were just a low-ranking werewolf, a speck compared to the royal Lycan king. But rank didn’t matter now, not to you. You would not grovel—not for him or anyone. If he wanted you, he’d have to fight for you, just as fiercely as you’d once wanted to fight for him. And it wasn’t necessarily that bad here; at least you were being fed.

There was no point in thinking about it now.  As tired as your mind was, your body was weirdly energetic, yet you felt paradoxically weak—the lack of training and shifting in weeks was finally getting to you.

Your eyes darted around the room, taking in the too-familiar walls and furniture. Boredom surged like a wildfire, quick and consuming. You hated this place—its silence, its stillness. But if someone were to ask what you hated most, the answer came easily, almost reflexively. Him. Your mate. Jeon Jungkook.

You huffed, shaking your head as if trying to dislodge the thought. You stood there for a moment, swaying slightly, your arms hanging limply at your sides. Your chest rose and fell in slow, deliberate breaths. The night wrapped around you like a second skin, colder than it should’ve been. You rubbed your arms absentmindedly, even though you felt no sense of cold. There was something strange in the air tonight, though. Something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. It clung to you, just out of reach, like a whisper you couldn’t fully hear.

You, once again, reached to the window, your fingertips brushing the edge of the curtain. The cold glass pressed against your palm as you stared out at the still, dark world. A frown tugged at your lips. It wasn’t delight you were feeling—not even close. It wasn’t contentment either. No, this was different, deeper.

Fulfillment. As if something had shifted back into place, something you hadn’t realized was missing.

But with it came fear. A cold, tearing fear that settled in your chest and refused to let go. Your hand pressed over your heart, feeling its unsteady rhythm thrum beneath your skin. Your throat tightened, and your eyes flicked toward the moonlit horizon, searching for something you couldn’t name.

You turned away from the window, pacing the room with quick, uneven steps. Your fingers ran through your hair, tugging at the strands as if the slight pain would ground you. It didn’t.

You paused mid-step, staring at your hands as they trembled. Was it the bond? You didn’t know, but your gut screamed that it was. Everything—the restlessness, the strange sense of completion, the fear—it all traced back to him.

You glanced out the window at the night sky—heavenly dark and ethereally calm—and a small smile tugged at your lips, unbidden. The moon was truly magnificent tonight; you thought nothing could ever match the quiet beauty of nature—especially the moon.

You drew in a long, deep breath, holding it in your chest before letting it out slowly. The weight against your ribs loosened, if only a little. Your eyes dropped to your hands, fingers curling and uncurling as you bit your bottom lip in thought.

Without a second thought, you turned on your heel, your movements dogged but not rushed. You slipped out of your quarters and into the dimly lit hallway, pausing for a moment to glance around.

Where to go?

You tilted your head, brows knitting together as the question settled in your mind. You didn’t have an answer, you merely didn't want to sit in your quarters. With a small nod to yourself.

The guards stationed along the walls watched you with wary eyes, their expressions unreadable. You didn’t pay them any mind, your focus elsewhere. The coolness of the air pressed against your skin, seeping through your clothes like icy fingers. A shiver ran down your spine, but instead of recoiling, you welcomed it.

Winter was near. The thought sent a flicker of warmth through you, chasing away some of the cold. You’d always loved winter, the way the world transformed under a blanket of snow, quiet and pristine. In just a month, the first snowfall would come, covering everything in a soft, white hush.

A smile broke across your face, wide and genuine. Your fingers brushed against your arms as you imagined the crunch of snow beneath bare feet, or the feel of it against your fur in wolf form. She loved winter too.

And then there was the blue moon. Only three weeks away, a grand celebration waiting on the horizon. The thought made your chest swell with anticipation, and a quiet giggle escaped your lips before you could stop it.

Your steps quickened, your feet almost skipping as you moved through the halls. You practically bounced on your toes, the cold air swirling around you but unable to dampen your mood. For the first time in days, maybe weeks, something sparked inside you—something bright, something hopeful.

But happiness had always been a fleeting guest in your life, and tonight proved no exception. Your steps faltered, the soft rhythm of your bare feet on the cold floor coming to an abrupt halt. The smile that had warmed your lips vanished, leaving them pressed into a thin line as Jungkook’s voice tore through the stillness of the still night.

It was sharp, loud, booming even. The sound echoed around you, bouncing off the walls. Without realizing it, you had wandered near his quarters. Your chest tightened as frustration bubbled beneath your skin. No matter how much you tried, how much you willed yourself to stay away, you always found yourself here—drawn to him like a moth to flame. You hated it. You hated him.

Your teeth dug into your bottom lip. His voice rang out again, louder this time, filled with venom and a simmering rage that made your stomach churn.

“I’m not obligated to tell you anything. Anything.”

Your body flinched involuntarily at the sound, as if the force of his anger had reached out and struck you. It wasn’t fear, not exactly. It was instinct—your body recoiling from the raw, unfiltered aggression in his tone.

You turned your head slightly, your gaze shifting to the floor. Your lips parted, but no sound came out. For a moment, you considered walking away, your feet itching to retreat. But you stayed rooted to the spot.

He was angry.

He was yelling.

But why? At who?

The questions spun relentlessly in your mind, but the answers evaded you. Your curiosity, though unwelcome, began clawing at your chest, demanding to be fed. A small voice whispered in the back of your head, urging you to move closer, to press your ear to the door and unravel the tension vibrating through the walls.

You shook your head, swallowing hard, forcing your feet to stay planted. Jungkook had made many things painfully clear on your first day here—one of them being that you were not to involve yourself in pack matters unless explicitly asked. His rules were ironclad, just like the wall he had built between the two of you.

Fine. If he didn’t respect or care for you, you wouldn’t care for him—or his pack. You took a slow, deliberate step forward, ready to walk past his quarters without so much as a glance.

But then you heard it.

Her voice.

Elizabeth.

The sound froze you mid-step, your body stiffening as if an invisible force had gripped you by the shoulders. She was in there, her voice carrying through the closed door—tenacious, loud, yet gentle. She was asking him something, and though his voice was lower now, you could still hear the anger simmering in every clipped word he threw back at her.

Your stomach twisted, curiosity roaring to life and twisting into something darker. Jealousy.

The fire of it ignited low in your chest, spreading quickly, burning hotter with every second you stood there. What were they talking about? Why was she here, in his quarters, this late? The questions pushed everything else from your mind, leaving only a sharp, all-consuming need to know.

Your jaw tightened, teeth grinding together as your breath came out shakier than you wanted to admit. Your chest heaved as you stared at the door, as if willing it to give up its secrets. The thought of her—of them—on the other side of it sent a cold, bitter shiver down your spine. You clenched your teeth harder, your body trembling with an emotion you didn’t want to name.

Still, your feet remained rooted, caught between storming forward and fleeing altogether. You told yourself you didn’t care, that whatever was happening in that room didn’t matter to you. But the fire raging inside you screamed otherwise.

"Jungkook, you can’t just run away from all you’ve done!" Elizabeth’s voice cut through the heavy, pregnant silence like a blade, shrill and demanding. Each word was laced with venom, her tone rising an octave with every syllable. "It’ll be the death of us all. Do you even have any idea what would happen if Jimin found out what you’ve done? Do you know how many vamp—"

“Leave!!”

Jungkook’s voice thundered through the air, slamming into you like a physical force. The raw power in his Alpha command made your breath hitch, your chest tightening painfully as if an unseen hand had wrapped itself around your throat, forcing you to bare it.

Your knees buckled slightly, your hand shooting out to the cold wall beside you to steady yourself. The sheer authority in his tone wasn’t just heard—it was felt, reverberating through your body, making your heart stutter and your skin break out in goosebumps.

For a moment, you stood frozen, your wide eyes staring blankly ahead as the weight of his words settled over you. But then something stirred deep within you.

Your wolf.

You hadn't felt her in days.

It was a faint ripple at first, a flicker of energy in the pit of your stomach. But it grew quickly, spreading like a wildfire through your veins. She was there—fully present in a way she hadn’t been in years. You could feel her strength, her defiance, her barely restrained anger.

Why was she angry?

It took you a moment to realize that you were feeling Jungkook’s emotions. It was the first time you had ever experienced them. His feelings were so intense that it was becoming hard to breathe. It felt as if a fire was burning in the centre of your chest.

Your lips parted in a shaky exhale, and your fingers gripped the wall as you tried to steady your racing heart. The connection was overwhelming, a storm of emotions flooding your senses: pride, fury, longing—all of it tangled together.

Oh! Moon goddess, it was overwhelming

Your head turned slightly, your gaze narrowing on the closed door as Elizabeth’s voice was abruptly silenced. The tension in the air was suffocating, thick enough to choke on, and yet... you couldn’t move.

You didn’t know what you were waiting for. Maybe for Elizabeth to storm out, her face twisted with fury. Maybe for Jungkook to step into the hallway, his presence as commanding as his voice.

Or maybe, you were waiting for yourself—to decide whether you would stay or walk away, pretending none of this had ever happened.

"Move, Bee."

The whisper of your wolf echoed faintly in your mind, a nudge that left no room for argument. Before you could even process her words, your legs carried you away from the shadows where you stood rooted. Your feet moved on instinct, silent against the cold marble floor as you melted into the darkness of the hallway, just out of sight.

The door to Jungkook’s bedroom creaked open, and Elizabeth stepped out.

You stilled, your breath catching in your throat as your gaze locked on her. She looked… dreadful. Her hair was slightly disheveled, her cheeks flushed, and her lips pressed into a thin, angry line. But it was her eyes that unsettled you most—they were wide, almost frantic, as if she’d seen something that had shaken her to her very core.

What is wrong?

Your fingers twitched at your sides, itching to reach out and grab her, demand answers to the storm of questions swirling in your mind. But before you could act, she stormed off, her hurried footsteps fading into the distance.

The silence that followed was deafening, and your chest ached with your unanswered questions.

You kept walking and without realizing it, you were outside. The icy wind bit at your skin, and your bare feet pressed into the damp grass of the royal garden. The once soothing serenity of the night now felt oppressive.

The soft rustle of leaves and the distant hoot of the night animals did little to calm the unease gnawing at you. The cold that had earlier been invigorating now seemed to seep into your very bones, chilling you from the inside out.

Your steps faltered, and you wrapped your arms around yourself, your fingers digging into the fabric of your sleeves as your mind raced.

What were they talking about?

Your thoughts spiralled, wild and rigid. The memory of Jungkook’s loud voice echoed in your head, and Elizabeth’s pale, distraught face lingered in your mind.

What was she doing in his room in the middle of the night?

"Bee, you’re thinking way too much," your wolf interjected with a bored sigh.

You couldn’t help the dry chuckle that escaped your lips, your breath fogging in the crisp night air.

'Thinking too much? That’s rich coming from you,' you muttered under your breath, the tension in your shoulders easing ever so slightly.

Your wolf hummed in response, unbothered, as if this entire situation didn’t concern her in the slightest. She had made her grand reappearance only to take over your body, push you into the cold night, and now, she was defending him.

"Of course, you’d side with him," you said, shaking your head with a humourless smile. You paced aimlessly through the garden, your fingers brushing against the brittle leaves of the hedges as you walked.

"I’m not defending anyone, Bee. I only said you’re thinking too much," your wolf’s voice came again, calm and infuriatingly smug.

You huffed, dragging your hands through your hair in exasperation as you continued pacing. The cool breeze tugged at the strands, but it didn’t calm you—it only added to the storm brewing in your chest.

"You’ve said enough," you muttered aloud, a bitter chuckle slipping past your lips as you shook your head.

"Aww, Bee trying to be sassy? That’s new… and dumb," she quipped, her tone laced with amusement.

You froze mid-step, your jaw tightening as irritation rippled through you. Balling your fists, you let out a slow, shaky breath, your eyes narrowing at the empty garden ahead of you as if you could glare at her.

"I’m curious," you snapped, your voice low and laced with frustration.

"And jealous," she added with a shrug you could practically feel, the smugness in her tone igniting the fire in your chest.

You clenched your teeth, your fingers twitching at your sides as you turned on your heel and paced again. Was she always this difficult? you wondered, your steps now faster, heavier, as if walking harder would somehow silence her.

"You’re being impossible," you muttered, your voice clipped.

"Well… I’m trying," she retorted, her smirk audible in your mind.

You let out a low growl, a sound of pure frustration as you stopped in your tracks and threw your hands in the air. The cold bit at your skin, and the grass beneath your feet squished as you shifted your weight, trying to ground yourself.

"Why do you always do this?" you hissed through gritted teeth, pacing again, your movements acute and agitated.

Your wolf merely hummed, her silence somehow louder than her teasing had been. It was like she was sitting back, watching the chaos unfold, amused by your every reaction.

You pressed your palm to your forehead, your other hand on your hip, and let out a shaky breath. The night around you was still, the garden eerily quiet except for the rustle of leaves and your own unsteady breaths.

"Aren’t you curi—" you started, your voice harsh, ready to lash out at your wolf and her endless sass.

But the words died on your tongue when a hand landed on your shoulder, firm yet not harsh. The touch yanked you out of your spiralling thoughts, and for a moment, the world tilted. Your breath hitched, eyes flickering from their glowing yellow back to their usual shade as a startled scream tore from your lips.

Instinct kicked in as you twisted away, prying the hand off your shoulder with shaky fingers. Your movements were frantic, unsteady. In your rush to create distance, your foot slipped on the damp grass.

You stumbled backward, arms flailing uselessly to regain your balance, but gravity wasn’t forgiving tonight.

"No, no, no—!" The words barely left your lips before you felt it: an arm curling around your waist, warm and secure, trying to steady you. For a fleeting moment, you thought you’d be pulled back, saved from the inevitable fall.

But fate had other plans.

You went down, and so did he.

The icy water swallowed you both, shocking the air from your lungs as you hit its surface. The cold stabbed at your skin like a thousand tiny needles, and a gasp escaped you, only for the water to rush in through your mouth and nose.

Panic surged as your chest tightened, the burning need for air overwhelming your senses. Your limbs flailed in the dark water, your vision a blur of silvery moonlight and shifting shadows.

Just when the pressure in your lungs became unbearable, the same hand that had startled you moments ago was back, gripping your arm with unwavering strength. With a single pull, you were yanked upward, as if you weighed nothing.

You broke through the surface with a desperate gasp, coughing and sputtering as cold air filled your lungs. Your vision cleared just enough to make out the figure before you, drenched and dripping, his chest rising and falling as he caught his own breath.

You blinked rapidly, your body shivering violently from the cold. Water dripped down your face, tangling in your lashes and blurring your view, but you could still make out his piercing gaze locked onto yours.

"Stand still, Luna. It's not that deep," Kenji's voice broke through the haze in your mind, soft and distant. His words, though meant to calm you, barely registered in your brain. They felt like whispers, faint and without meaning, as your world rolled in the aftermath of the cold water.

You didn’t have the energy to respond. Everything felt numb, too much to process. You barely felt his hands as they gripped your body, pulling you out of the water, his strong arms steadying you. The cold air hit your skin like a slap, making your body tremble, but you didn’t care. Your clothes clung to your body, heavy and soaked, as if they were another layer of ice.

"Are you okay?" His voice, low and smooth, carried a tinge of concern, but you couldn’t answer him. You were too focused on your own ragged breathing, each gasp severe and painful as you tried to fill your lungs with air.

You nodded, still struggling to steady yourself, your knees weak beneath you. Kenji’s hands loosened their grip but remained close, as if afraid you might collapse. His eyes—green, intense, filled with raw worry—never left your face.

Your gaze flickered to him, taking in his drenched appearance. His black shirt clung to his frame, outlining the taut muscles of his chest and abdomen. Eight abs? You thought dazedly, momentarily distracted by the sharp, perfect definition of his body. His arms, thick with muscle, rippled as he shifted, veins prominent under his skin. His coat was missing, leaving only the damp shirt, trouser and boots that squeaked with every movement as water pooled around his feet.

For a moment, the world felt quieter, but the thudding of your pulse in your ears reminded you of the mess still swirling in your mind. Kenji’s eyes never left you, scanning you for any signs of distress, his worry plain in the furrow of his brows.

You opened your mouth, wanting to speak, but a cough seized you, harsh and sudden, the water still making its presence known in your lungs. You doubled over, a sharp spasm running through your chest as your throat burned.

Cough, cough.

You wheezed, the water still clogging your chest. Kenji’s hand was warm on your back, patting gently as you tried to catch your breath. His touch was surprisingly comforting, but it couldn’t shake the rush of anger and embarrassment bubbling up inside you. When your breathing finally steadied, he brushed your wet hair behind your ear.

"I’m sorry. I didn’t know you’d be this frightened," he murmured, his voice soft and apologetic, eyes scanning you with an unreadable expression.

"Really," You snapped, unable to hold back your frustration any longer, huffing sharply and turning your gaze away from him. "Of course, I’ll be frightened. You came out of nowhere!" You couldn’t help it. The adrenaline still buzzed under your skin, your heart racing in a way you didn’t understand. Your eyes darted around, desperately looking for something to focus on, when you caught sight of the lake.

"There’s a lake here. A lake." The words came out in disbelief as you took a step back, your mouth falling open as you stared at the calm water behind you. You couldn’t believe it. It was like you had stepped into another world, even though you were still in the Lycan palace.

Kenji was still beside you, and his puzzled gaze flickered between you and the lake. "Why do you seem so angry at the fact?" His voice was light, but there was confusion in his eyes.

"Because. I. Fell." The words came out sharp, punctuated with an exaggerated roll of your eyes. You crossed your arms tightly over your chest, shivering from the cold water clinging to your clothes, which now felt like a second skin, heavy and soaked.

Kenji raised an eyebrow, a quiet chuckle escaping his lips. "Valid," he said, almost too calmly, his eyes still filled with curiosity.

"Duh!" You huffed again, your arms tightening across your chest in annoyance. The cold bite of the air wasn’t helping, and the peaceful lake, which had once seemed serene, now only added to your growing frustration. Everything felt off now—strange and disorienting. You were unable to contemplate why were you feeling cold, you were a werewolf.

The anger, now mixed with frustration, flared up again. "Who has a lake behind their palace garden?" You shook your head, still in disbelief.

Kenji’s voice was full of pride as he spoke, "We do." The way he said it made you want to smack him, but you held yourself back, the urge bubbling up in your chest. It would be unladylike, un-queenly. No, you couldn’t afford to lose control like that. You sucked in a breath, steadying yourself. Elegance, composure—those were the things you had to focus on.

You forced a smile, one that felt far too wide, far too tight. "Kenji." Your voice was soft, almost sweet, and the smile that accompanied it was dripping with artificial sweetness. His eyes snapped to yours, widening for a moment, and you saw the exact second his face twisted into something almost grotesque.

"That’s so fake!" he blurted, his voice betraying the shock in his tone.

A gasp slipped past your lips, surprise flashing across your face before it quickly melted into something else. His eyes shot wide with horror, his skin paling as he stepped back slightly, as if you had just slapped him. "Oh! Moon goddess, forgive me, Luna. I—I…" His words faltered, stuttering, as if he could barely comprehend the mistake he had just made.

You blinked, confused. His reaction felt over the top, but there was a genuine fear in his eyes now, one that caught you off guard. You weren’t strong enough to fight him off, and you weren’t a queen yet—not in his eyes, not in anyone's eyes. The only one who might consider you his queen was Jungkook, and he barely acknowledged you as his mate.

You crossed your arms tightly over your chest, the cold air biting at your skin as you stared at Kenji, ignoring the tension that still hung between you. You couldn’t care less about his reaction to your earlier words, focusing instead on the question hanging in the air.

“What are you doing here at this time?” you asked, your tone sharper than you intended. His eyes flickered with surprise, his mouth opening, but then nothing. He pointed a finger toward you, lips moving, but no sound came out. It was almost comical, watching him struggle to form words.

“What?” you snapped, growing impatient.

He blinked, his brows furrowing, trying to process your response before mumbling, “You mean, pardon?”

“No, I mean what. Now start talking, will you?” you demanded, your patience wearing thin.

He blinked at you, bewildered. “That was my question.”

“I mean once again. What?” You were so done with his indecision, the confusion clear on your face.

“That was my question.”

A frustrated sigh slipped past your lips, your eyes narrowing as you crossed your arms tighter. “I heard it before. Explain.”

Kenji’s eyes hardened slightly, frustration creeping into his expression, but he didn’t back down. “What are you doing here?” he repeated, his voice finally steady, but it only made you more annoyed.

“Walking?” you replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. You tilted your head, locking eyes with him. Your voice was dismissive, but the corners of your lips lifted in something close to a smirk.

“At this time?"

"When I walk, I don’t care about time. Walking is good.” You shrugged nonchalantly, your gaze challenging him to argue. His expression faltered for a moment, his mouth falling open as he stared at you, as if you’d grown two heads. You didn’t care.

“What? I can walk. It keeps you fit,” you added, eyes narrowing into a defiant glare, daring him to question you further.

Kenji stood tall, as he spoke, his gaze intense as if daring you to question him further. “We are. No. You are a werewolf. We have high metabolism. We stay fit anyway without walking,” he countered, his voice carrying a hint of amusement as he crossed his arms over his chest.

You arched an eyebrow, not even bothered by his words. “And?” you shot back, your voice laced with indifference. You still didn’t have a reason for being here, but you weren’t about to back down.

He sighed, clearly growing tired. “What are you doing here?” you asked again, as if it was the most obvious question in the world.

His gaze flicked to you, and before you could even bink, the words reached your ear. “Patrolling.” He said it with such ease, as if it were a routine task. His shoulders shifted, a casual shrug, as he waited for you to process. His eyes never left yours, a slight raise of his brow as if daring you to argue.

“Why?” you asked, your confusion evident. You could already feel the answer forming in his mind, but you were far too frustrated to wait for it. “I mean, why you?” you continued, gesturing at his strong frame. “You’re a warrior. A strong one. You have different duties. The guards who patrol are different.”

Kenji’s lips curled into a grin, and he stepped forward, looking down at you with pride. “First of all, I’m not a strong warrior. I’m the strongest.” His chest puffed out even more, his chin tilting upwards as if the very idea of being anything less than the best was an insult. The smirk on his face deepened as he caught your eye. “And don’t you know we were attacked yesterday? One of our warriors almost died?”

His words hit you like a slap. You blinked in disbelief, the words barely registering in your mind. “What?” The harshness in your voice made Kenji wince, his hand instinctively going to his ear as if to shield it from the sound. He stepped back, his face contorting in discomfort, eyes wide with surprise.

“You don’t know? Nobody told you?” His voice was quieter now, almost uncertain, and you shook your head in response. His brow furrowed, confusion turning to something else—something closer to curiosity. “Why?” he asked, a tinge of disbelief still hanging in his voice.

“I was ordered by Jungkook to stay away from pack business and so was told others not to tell me anything,” you explained, the words coming out flat, detached. You didn’t expect his reaction—his face drained of colour, and he looked like he had seen a ghost. His throat bobbed, and a heavy gulp escaped him, loud and clear. There was panic in his eyes now.

“Kenji?” You walked closer, your gaze softening as his body trembled slightly. You put your arm on his shoulder, trying to offer some form of comfort.

But what you didn’t expect was the shift in his posture, the way his shoulders hunched as if the weight of something far heavier rested on them.

“Are you crying?” you asked in disbelief, your voice almost a whisper.

“I don’t want to die.” He whispered, his voice small and muted. The words hung in the air, heavy and confusing.

“I still want to find my mate and impregnate her.” His confession was quiet, the last part barely audible.

You stood there for a moment, unsure of what to say.

Okay, now I’m just here nervously waiting for your thoughts! Please go easy on me, I promise I’m trying my best! 😬

[whumpy-wyrms]

yk i was having trouble writing tllr chapter 12 because Dew is sick with a fever in the beginning and i just,, idk felt uninspired or something because im not the biggest fan of sickfics or whatever

well now i’m sick with a fever and it’s helll so sorry Dew im gonna have to put you through this now my bad 👍👍 at least i am now inspired

if this post makes no sense it’s because my brain hurts and i’m tired 👍👍👍

[fiendishartist2]

need this strength at the end of this assignment

[jungwnies]

TIKTOK TREND WITH YOUR F1 BOYFRIEND | "suspect...."

୨ৎ : featuring : max verstappen, lewis hamilton, george russell, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris, oscar piastri ୨ৎ : synopsis : "suspect..." trend

୨ৎ : genre : humor ୨ৎ : tws : teasing ୨ৎ : word count : 2344

୨ masterlist ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : race weekend !!

ʚ・max verstappen

you and max had just finished dinner, comfortably tangled up on the couch, your legs draped over his lap. you were scrolling through tiktok, barely paying attention, until a trend made you grin. a couple was chasing each other, shouting their most embarrassing secrets. you nudged max, holding up your phone.

"this feels very us," you teased.

he glanced at the screen, smirking. "you just wanna air my dirty laundry, huh?"

"and yours is so juicy," you shot back. "come on, let's do it."

outside under the porch light, you hit record. the night air was crisp, but max was already loosening up, stretching like he was about to hit the track. "i'll go first," you announced, and before you could blink, max bolted.

"suspect has lucky race underwear and acts like it's the end of the world if they're missing!" you yelled, chasing after him.

he whipped around, laughing so hard he nearly tripped. "okay, rude! that's classified intel."

you handed him the phone as you jogged ahead. "your turn."

max didn't hesitate. "suspect raids the pantry at 3 a.m. like a gremlin and blames it on 'sleepwalking.'"

"i do sleepwalk!" you gasped, laughing as he sprinted closer.

you grabbed the phone back, turning the camera on him. "suspect sings way too passionately to abba in the shower and denies it when I catch him."

max froze mid-step, glaring playfully. "low blow." then, with a grin, he snatched the phone and chased you down the driveway.

"suspect still sleeps with a stuffed panda named mr. wuffles—and argues with him like he's real."

you shrieked, lunging for the camera, tackling max to the ground. the two of you collapsed in a heap of laughter, the phone still recording as you tried to catch your breath.

"mr. wuffles doesn't deserve this slander," you mumbled into his shoulder.

max grinned, brushing hair out of your face. "neither do my lucky boxers."

ʚ・lewis hamilton

you and lewis were lounging by the pool under a canopy of string lights, the cool night breeze carrying the soft ripple of water. roscoe was stretched out on a lounge chair, his head resting on a cushion like he owned the place. lewis was reclined next to you, scrolling through his phone, his fingers absently drumming to the beat of the music playing from a nearby speaker.

you were curled up with your phone, scrolling through tiktok when a trend made you snort—a couple chasing each other, shouting out each other’s most embarrassing quirks. you nudged lewis, holding the screen up for him to see.

“this feels like something you’d absolutely crush me at,” you said, laughing.

he glanced over, his lips curving into that playful smile that made your stomach flip. “oh, no doubt. but do you really wanna go there?”

you grinned, hopping off the lounge chair. “game on.”

lewis chuckled, setting his phone down and standing up, stretching like he was warming up for a race. roscoe gave a sleepy glance but didn’t move.

“ladies first,” lewis said, gesturing dramatically.

you hit record, backing away as he smirked. “suspect can’t go two days without FaceTiming roscoe when he’s away, and yes, he gives him motivational speeches.”

lewis burst into laughter, jogging after you. “don’t call me out like that—roscoe’s a star athlete in his own right!” he grabbed the camera and started walking backward. “alright, my turn.”

you crossed your arms, pretending to look unfazed as he started recording. “suspect spends more time perfecting their smoothie recipes than I spend in the gym. and they still taste like fruit soup.”

you gasped, laughing as you chased him across the patio. “they’re healthy! and delicious!”

“sure, chef,” he teased, holding the camera high above your head.

you managed to snatch it back, breathless. “suspect has an alarm on his phone labeled ‘manifest greatness,’ and I caught him chanting along to it last week.”

lewis stopped, doubling over in laughter. “okay, first of all, it works!” he protested, grabbing the camera back. “but suspect won’t admit they cried during a kids movie last weekend.”

“it was Marley & Me! what do you want from me?!” you shrieked, laughing so hard you stumbled.

roscoe finally lifted his head, giving you both a look of mild disapproval before going back to sleep. the two of you collapsed on the pool deck, gasping for air as the camera captured your laughter under the lights.

ʚ・george russell

you and george were out in the garden under the string lights, leaning against the picnic table as the evening settled in. you were scrolling through tiktok when a video of a couple exposing each other’s quirks made you laugh.

“think you could handle this?” you asked, showing george.

he smirked. “you’re playing a dangerous game.”

you hit record and stepped back. “suspect triple-checks his hair in every mirror before leaving the house, even for groceries.”

george laughed, jogging after you. “it’s called standards,” he countered, grabbing the phone. “suspect once demanded a rematch at mini golf because the wind was ‘unfair.’”

“it was!” you protested, chasing him.

snatching the phone back, you grinned. “suspect listens to dramatic orchestra scores like they’re in a movie montage.”

he groaned, laughing. “oh hush! suspect talks in their sleep about ordering pizza and existential philosophy.”

you gasped, collapsing onto the bench in laughter as george sat beside you, flipping the camera toward you both.

“lesson learned?” he teased.

“you’re obsessive,” you said.

“and you’re chaos,” he shot back with a grin.

“and yet, it works,” you replied, leaning into him as he ended the video.

ʚ・carlos sainz

you and carlos had just finished a game of tennis in the backyard, both of you sweating and laughing as you collapsed onto the grass. the sky was fading into a deep blue, the evening still warm. carlos tossed his racket aside, stretching with a satisfied groan, while you grabbed your water bottle.

“you know, i think i’ve got you beat this time,” you said, grinning between sips.

“you wish, mi amor,” carlos laughed, shaking his head. “i let you win on purpose. i’m a gentleman.”

“uh-huh, sure, whatever helps you sleep at night,” you teased.

you pulled out your phone, noticing a trend on tiktok—a couple running around, calling out each other’s quirks. you nudged him, showing him the video.

“come on, let’s do it. i bet you’ve got some embarrassing stuff to share,” you said.

“oh, i’m sure you’ve got more embarrassing things than me,” he grinned. “alright, let’s do it. i’m ready.”

you hit record, stepping back with a playful smirk. “suspect uses way too many spices when cooking and ends up burning half the meal every time.”

carlos laughed, raising his hands in defense. “hey, a little smoky flavor never hurt anyone!” he grabbed the phone and pointed it at you. “suspect always loses their keys and blames it on me, even when i’m nowhere near them.”

“because you always steal them!” you shot back, chasing him around the yard.

he stopped, turning to face you. “suspect watches motivational videos, then complains about doing chores two minutes later,” he teased, laughing.

you gasped, nearly dropping the phone. “i’m just… i’m saving my energy for the important stuff!”

carlos smirked, taking the phone back. “suspect can’t make it through a single movie without falling asleep halfway through. i’ve seen it!”

“i’m relaxing, okay?” you said, laughing as you tried to catch up with him.

carlos finally collapsed next to you on the grass, both of you laughing, as he turned the camera toward you both.

“well, that was fun, amor,” he said, grinning.

“you’re a menace,” you teased.

“and you love me for it,” he replied with a wink, before ending the video.

ʚ・charles leclerc

you and charles were in the kitchen, the scent of fresh-baked cookies filling the air as you waited for them to finish baking. with the oven timer ticking down, you two decided to kill time. charles was leaning against the doorframe of the hallway, his dog leo sprawled out on the floor at his feet, looking up at you both with a relaxed expression.

“okay, so what should we do while we wait, mon chéri?” charles asked, his gaze playful. “i’m not just gonna stand here, you know.”

you grinned, glancing around the hallway. “well, we could always play that tiktok game i showed you last week. i bet you’ve got some embarrassing habits i can call out.”

charles raised an eyebrow, glancing at leo, who was lazily licking his paws. “you think i’m embarrassed by anything?”

“oh, definitely,” you teased, pulling out your phone. “you’ve got some quirks.”

“alright, fine,” he grinned, crossing his arms. “let’s do it, but no making fun of me too much, mon amour.” he tells you kissing the top of your head before you both make your way to the hallway. 

you hit record, stepping back with a smirk. “suspect has a very specific routine for his coffee, and gets very upset if it’s made wrong.”

charles laughed, shaking his head. “that’s not a secret, amour. i like my coffee just right, nothing wrong with that.” he grabbed the phone and pointed it at you. “suspect spends way too much time scrolling through food videos but never actually cooks anything.”

“hey!” you protested, laughing. “i get inspiration!”

“ah, i know you too well,” he teased. “suspect also insists on getting up in the middle of the night for snacks, but never remembers what they actually wanted.”

“i don’t even want to hear it,” you shot back. “suspect can’t even make it through a day without getting at least five different snacks. i’ve seen it with my own eyes!”

“hey, i’m a growing boy,” charles grinned. “i need my fuel. you, on the other hand… suspect has to try to make food, but ends up burning everything and then calling me to save you.”

“sure, sure,” you teased. “suspect also has to ask for everyones opinion before making a decision about anything.”

“it’s called being thorough,” he grinned.

“right, thorough,” you laughed. “suspect spends way too long staring at himself in the mirror after a race, making sure everything’s perfect for the cameras.”

charles laughed, shaking his head. “okay, that’s fair. but you talk to leo like he’s a person, and i swear, he knows all your secrets.”

“leo’s my best friend!” you protested, laughing.

“and he knows you better than you know yourself,” charles teased.

“oh, don’t even!” you laughed. you lunged for the phone, laughing, but charles held it just out of reach.

“oh no, i’m not done with you yet,” you teased, but charles just grinned, lowering the camera as leo wagged his tail.

“well, that was fun,” charles said, still grinning as he scratched leo behind the ears.

“you’re impossible,” you teased, nudging him.

“and you love me for it, mon chéri,” he replied with a wink, turning off the camera.

ʚ・lando norris

you and lando had just finished messing around on his sim, and now you were sitting on the floor of the hallway, sharing a bowl of popcorn. the soft glow of the hallway light made the moment feel cozy, but lando, being lando, was already up to something.

“have you seen this?” he asked, holding up his phone to show you a tiktok of people calling out their partners' embarrassing habits. his grin was wide, already plotting.

“don’t even think about it,” you warned, narrowing your eyes.

“too late,” he said, opening the app and hitting record. “alright, suspect loves to smack talk during karting, but can’t stop spinning out when things get competitive.”

“you’re so full of it!” you laughed, grabbing the phone. “suspect sets five alarms every morning and still manages to be late.”

lando gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. “i’m just not a morning person, alright?”

“and yet, you have no problem staying up all night playing video games,” you shot back, aiming the phone at him again.

“because i’m a gamer,” he grinned, grabbing the phone back. “suspect refuses to admit they’re bad at fifa, even though i’ve beaten you like, ten times in a row.”

“that’s because you cheat! i swear your controller’s rigged!”

“sure, blame the controller,” he teased, flipping the camera to you. “suspect also eats all the snacks during a movie and then pretends they don’t know where they went.”

you gasped. “i get hungry! and you don’t even share your chips properly.”

“because you take the big ones,” lando said, shaking his head. “suspect also hides my hoodies and claims they don’t know where they are.”

you smirked. “they just mysteriously end up in my closet. weird, huh?”

“you’re unbelievable,” he laughed, setting the phone down as you both leaned back against the wall.

“you love it,” you teased, nudging his shoulder.

“yeah,” he said, grinning at you. “i do.”

ʚ・oscar piastri

you and oscar were out on the back deck, the sun dipping below the horizon as the brownies you’d baked earlier cooled inside. the soft hum of cicadas filled the air, and oscar was stretched out on a lounge chair, tossing a tennis ball up and catching it lazily.

“so, how long until we can eat them?” he asked, tilting his head toward the kitchen window.

“not long,” you replied, scrolling through your phone. then, a tiktok caught your attention—a couple roasting each other’s quirks. you grinned, holding it up to oscar. “wanna try this?”

he sat up, catching the ball one last time. “you’re really inviting chaos, huh? alright, let’s go.”

you hit record and pointed the phone at him. “suspect leaves half-finished cups of tea everywhere and then wonders why we have no clean mugs.”

“because tea gets cold too quick!” oscar said, snatching the phone. “suspect insists they’re an expert at driving but screams every time i take a corner a bit fast.”

“because you drive like it’s the grand prix!” you laughed, taking the phone back. “suspect uses ‘just one more episode’ as an excuse to stay up until 3 a.m.”

“it’s called commitment,” oscar said, smirking as he grabbed the phone again. “suspect pretends to like my playlist but skips my songs when they think i’m not looking.”

“they’re all acoustic covers of 2000s pop songs, oscar!” you protested.

“and they’re brilliant,” he said, aiming the phone at you. “suspect also googles the plot of movies halfway through because they’re too impatient to wait and see what happens.”

“okay, but at least i don’t fake losing at card games to make you feel better,” you shot back, smirking.

oscar gasped dramatically. “i would never!”

you both burst into laughter, leaning against the counter as the timer beeped in the background.

“guess i win,” oscar said smugly, reaching for the phone.

“in your dreams,” you teased, bumping his shoulder.

© 2024 jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[tonycries]

Lemme Ride, Baby!

Synopsis. Riding your cocky boyfriend to insanity is not a want, but a need. Especially when he sits there so deliciously arrogant - you just have to break him.

Pairing. Multiple x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, unprotected, cowgirl, slight switch! boys, established relationship, creampie, power dynamics, dirty talk, swearing.

Word count. 1.3k 

A/N. Had this in my drafts for so long.

He sits across from you on the bed. Long legs spread, eyes half-lidded, and kiss-bitten lips turned into an aggravating smirk that makes your dripping cunt clench. 

“Good luck lasting more than five seconds, pretty girl.” he drawled lazily, oozing pure cockiness.

So that’s how he’s gonna play, huh?

“Let’s see if you can live up to your own hype, darling.”

“Mhm, I won’t be the one begging for mercy.”

Ah, for the life of him he should’ve known. Should’ve gotten an inkling at the way you sauntered over to him in nothing but a predatory grin. Should’ve begged for mercy at that carnal gleam in your eyes that made blood rush straight to his traitorously hard cock. You wanted to eat him alive. 

And he was going to eat his words.

At first, your cocky boyfriend pretended to be unfazed, laying back leisurely on his forearms. But you saw the way his eyes flickered with nervousness when you grabbed him roughly by the shoulders and slammed him onto the mattress. You felt the way his already-throbbing erection twitched so animalistically as you urgently swung a leg over his hips. You knew you had him wrapped around your little finger. 

“Let’s hope you can last as long as you talk.”

Bullying his achingly hard cock into your snug cunt, sinking down agonizingly slowly. Relishing the way his eyes roll back in sheer ecstasy as your plushy walls suck him up so desperately. “Fuck, yes. You feel s’amazing wrapped around me. Sure you can handle it all?” 

You waste no time. 

Abruptly slamming down on his leaking cock. “Ah- Hah-” Your boyfriend’s surprised moans get choked in his throat as you rock your hips back and forth at a punishing pace. 

Pulling all the way up till his furiously flushed tip is teasing your sloppy hole. Slick dripping on his length, slamming down down down - his glistening veins massaging that one spot just right. Over and over. Harder. Faster. 

The sinful squelches of your cunt filling the heady air of your bedroom. Driving him to insanity.

“Oh, god yes- jus’ like that ah fuck fuck fuck…” his low groans come in ragged bursts, cock twitching wildly. A large hand shoots up to clutch your bouncing breasts, tweaking your hardened nipples, the other having a white-knuckled grip on the sheets.

“Give up ye- ah! Hngh, you little fucker-” a moan escapes your lips as he bucks his hips defiantly, chasing his high. Thick tip kissing your cervix so painfully good. 

Your hungry eyes bore into his blown-out ones, a defiant glint in them as he still tries to maintain his cool façade. Biting his bottom lip, brows furrowed in heavy concentration as he fights to hold back cumming. 

Stubborn bastard.

Several things happen at once.

Your hand shoots out to grip his exposed neck, nails digging into his skin, hard. Almost as hard as you ram down on his cock, sheathing him till his twitching balls smack your ass. Wasting no time once he’s bottomed out. Harsh, purposeful movements just to fuck his soul out. 

His pretty lips fall into soft oh. Fucked out, gurgled moans leaving his lips around the hand at his throat. “Oh! Ah! Shit, tha’s right. Take every inch.” And if he thought he was going to pass out before then- 

He couldn’t even finish the thought, brain stuck on the way you clamp down so obscenely around him, milking him greedily. Biceps curling, a hand reaches above him to hold onto the headboard - and maybe his sanity.

“Give up yet?” You grind down mercilessly, walls hugging his throbbing erection impossibly tight. Clit rubbing against his toned pelvis. Back and forth and back and forth and- Sloppy, it was so sloppy.

Slick gushing out of your heated cunt, dripping down his length and pooling at his heavy balls, stinging your ass at each merciless thrust. “God, fuck- hah. That all you got, pretty girl?.” 

Thighs burning, you alternate between torturously slow strokes and frantic bouncing that left you both restless. Hypnotizing rhythm him slowly towards the edge, only to reel him back again. 

He will eat his words. 

You lose track of time. Maybe it’s been hours - maybe even just a few minutes. 

Pulling and pushing. Over and over. 

“Ah- Hngh-.” Eyes barely keeping open, torn between the fucking obscene view of your dripping pussy swallowing his cock so greedily and the lustful, power-drunk expression on your face. “Wanna- wanna cum, pretty girl.”

“Then beg for it.”

“No.”

Voice strangled, sweat beading on his forehead. You watch, cunt fluttering at the fucked-out little smile curling his lips, and the carnal way his neck was leaning into the tight grasp you had around it. 

You lean forward, a cruel smile playing on your lips, “Beg for it.” you repeat, voice sultry and dangerous.

He shakes his head desperately, tears peeking out from where his eyes were scrunched closed. “No.” he whispers, jaw clenched tight.

You press impossibly closer, breasts hot against his sculpted chest, sticky with sweat. Not stopping your maddening rhythm, your breath is hot against his ear, “Beg for it, and I’ll let you cum harder than you ever have before.”

He throws his head back, toes curling into the mattress, and thighs quivering at the way you were using him like nothing more than a toy.

“Please.” he finally breathes, words barely audible over the sloppy slapping of skin on skin.

“Louder.” 

“Please, let me cum, pretty girl.” he groans, leaning into the mockingly innocent peck you leave on the tip of his nose.

You reward him, slamming down on his throbbing cock with renewed vigor. Finally giving into the way you were drunk off his cock just as much as he was off your pussy. A hand reaching behind you to massage his balls, feeling the weight on your palm. Tugging on them in a way that has his breath hitching and dick twitching so desperately inside you. Aching for release.

“God, yes. Yes, yes, yes. Right there.” He lets out a guttural moan, thrusting up into you in short, frantic jabs to match your unforgiving cadence. His leaking tip hitting that perfect angle to send sparks flying behind your eyelids. 

And you let him, chasing your high as much as his, eyes locked on his greedy gaze.

How long has it even been? All he knows is that fuck if heaven was real then he was there right now, looking at a goddess herself. Ah, close. So close. His thrusts grow jerkier, cock pulsing inside you. 

“Cum for me, darling. Fill me up till you’re leaking out of me.”

A sharp whimper of your name and he’s spilling into you. His body bows into yours, thick, hot ropes of his cum that fill your snug cunt. Painting your walls white to match the pleasure that runs down his spine - all the way to his leaking cock. It gushes inside of you, trailing down his sensitive cock to form a creamy ring at his base. 

Stars behind his eyes, teeth gritted. He’s heard of orgasms so powerful they take control of one’s body, and right now fuck if this isn’t that then he didn’t know what was. 

Nails digging into your hips - keeping you still as he pounds into you, fucking his seed deeper and deeper. Cock throbbing around your quivering walls - overstimulated as you cum around the feeling of him filling you up. Vision blurring, blood roaring in your ears as everything crashes together like a tidal wave. 

Before you know it, you’re collapsing onto his heated chest. Limbs tangled and breaths mingling as you both try to catch your breaths. 

You can feel his cum leaking out of you, thick and sticky. Pooling between your legs. Stomach feeling so full of him.

“Looks like you talked a lot more shit than you could handle, darling.” you grin, still breathless. 

Oh. You shouldn’t have said that. 

It was like a flip switched.

Seizing your moment of weakness, rolling over in the blink of an eye. You sink into the now-soaked mattress as his large hands hold a bruising grip on your wrists, pinning them right above your head. 

He loomed menacingly over you, low whisper hot against your ear and sending shivers down your spine. 

“My turn, pretty girl.”

- GOJO, Choso, OIKAWA, Kuroo, Suna, Tsukishima, ATSUMU, EREN

A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 26: Fuck

Summary: You're going insane. The need is insatiable, but that's not the only thing plaguing you.

Pairings: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 6,261

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, p in v sex, unprotected sex, oral (f and m receiving), fingering, bodily fluids, gagging, creampie, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, a sprinkle of angst, fluff, obviously language, someone drops the L word, Simon rizzin' with the 'tism

A/N: You might be asking, am I really naming the chapter that? Yeah. I've been half asleep these last couple days (including while writing most of this) due to my change of meds so if this is ass, blame it on my medication lol. Anyway, yeah, you'll see with this one.

I'd also like to give very special thanks to @141wh0re who helped me with the Johnny scene I owe you big time, princess 🫶

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

Hands squeeze your ass cheeks, pushing them apart to reveal your soaked pussy. You let out a quiet moan as the cool air in the room hits your damp slit. Another, louder moan leaves your lips as a thumb drags through your folds. Your pussy clenches at the sensation, slick oozing out of you in anticipation. Fingers rub it through your folds, teasing over your clit before pulling back. 

You let out a whine of indignation and disappointment, pressing your hips back as you chase after the touch needily. 

“Easy, you needy little pup.” You jump at the harsh slap against your cheek in retaliation. “I'll give you what you need.”

You whine, face pressed into the sheets as John kneels behind you. His warm breath across your damp folds is a delicious contrast to the cool air in the room. It has you whining and twitching, fingers sinking into the soft fabric under you. 

Your legs nearly give out at the first drag of his tongue through your folds. You moan softly, pressing back against his mouth. His hands press against your ass, keeping you still as he drags his tongue through your folds again. His beard tickles your thighs, prickling deliciously against the sensitive skin. You'll have beard burn by the end of this, but you can hardly complain. 

You never do. 

His thumbs part your folds again, spreading you open as his lips close around your clit. A long moan falls from your lips as he sucks on the sensitive bud. You're close to cumming already, your pussy sensitive after the last few days of near nonstop fucking with the members of your pack. 

“Fuck!” You moan against the sheets as John gives your clit a particularly hard suck. 

“Sensitive little thing.” He murmurs against your clit, his tongue flicking against the bud. 

You whine, legs starting to tremble as they fight to hold you up against the pleasure from John's mouth. He continues his relentless ministrations against your clit, rotating between suckling it and flicking it with his tongue. 

Your moans get more and more needy as you get closer and closer to the edge, John pushing you harder against the mattress so you don’t fall as your legs nearly give out. 

You cum with a cry, legs shaking as he holds you up, licking up every last drop from your pussy. 

He stands from between your legs, delivering another light slap to your ass. “On the bed.”

You pull yourself up fully on the mattress, turning to face him with a smirk. “How do you want me, daddy?”

A low growl rumbles in his chest as he stares down at you, his gaze darkening. He nods towards the pillow, his voice deep and rough. “On your back.”

You shift so you're laying on the bed, sinking into the pillow. He strips off his shirt and pants, hard cock springing free. You nearly drool at the sight of it, hard and weeping. He climbs onto the bed, the mattress dipping from his weight. He settles himself between your knees, pushing them apart so you're spread open before him. He stares down at your weeping pussy, licking his lips. 

“So fucking needy.” He groans, pressing two fingers into you. You mewl at the stretch, pussy fluttering around his fingers. “So worked up over the littlest things. You'd cum just like this on my fingers, couldn't you?”

You clench around his fingers, your hips pressing closer to his hand. You could, even if he held them still. Your body feels like it's on fire, desire and lust and pleasure coursing through you. His scent has gone straight to your head, driving the neediness and desperation for some relief, something to take the edge off the intense throbbing in your pussy. 

“Need you, alpha.” You whine, continuing to fuck yourself on his fingers. 

He holds his hand there for a few moments, watching your slick coat his fingers before he pulls them free, spreading your legs further apart. You lift yourself up on your elbows as you watch him press forward, dragging his cock through your folds. Your lips part, quiet gasps slipping free as his head catches on your clit, smearing his precum through your folds. 

You flop back against the pillow again as he presses into you, splitting you open around his cock. He's so big, so warm as he takes his time, working himself into you. You moan at the stretch, pressing your legs further open around him, as if that will help him sink in deeper. 

You can't do anything but lay there and moan as he pushes into you to the hilt, hips flush against yours as he bends over you, his hands framing your face. You stare up at him, meeting his gaze as he sits there inside you for a moment. Your pussy flutters around him, the intensity of his stare shooting straight through you. 

He lets out a quiet grunt as you squeeze around him, pulling his hips back before slowly pressing back in. You’re nearly hypnotized as you stare up at him, as he continues to move, fucking you slowly. Your breath hitches at the intensity, the passion building in the moment. 

He shifts his position, pressing his body down against yours. He grinds against you as he picks up the pace, his hand cupping the back of your head as he presses his lips to yours. You moan into the kiss with every pass of his pelvis over your clit, your arms lifting to wrap around his back, pressing him as close to you as you can. He pulls back from your mouth, his lips parting in a groan as you wrap your legs around his waist, trying to take him deeper than he already is. It's all very sensual, the way he moves against you, his eyes locked on yours, the quiet grunts leaving his lips, the twitch of his cock inside you. 

It’s too much as you cum suddenly, your orgasm slamming into you like a battering ram. You squeeze around him, legs tightening around his hips. He lets out a low groan, his pace faltering a bit as you squeeze around him like a vice. It doesn't stop him, though, his thrusts continuing even after your body has gone lax around him. You continue to cling to him, holding on for dear life as he fucks you to the point of overstimulation. 

You whine, nails digging into his back as the sensations become too much, squirming in his grasp. 

“You can take it.” He grunts, shifting his hips just slightly. “Come on, be a good girl for me.” 

You whine at his words, your body shaking as sweat drips down your face. “Yes, daddy.” 

He lets out a deep growl, his hips slamming against yours at the pet name. You’re not quite sure where it came from, why you’ve decided now is the time to pull it from the recesses of your mind. You remember when he jokingly told you, you could call him that if you wanted before your last heat, but you had yet to be brave enough to let it slip from your lips. 

Until now. 

Maybe it was the desperation, the neediness driving you to sink to places you’ve never gone before. He likes it, you can tell by the growls rumbling in his chest, the way his cock throbbed inside you when you let the name spill out. Maybe once the ache in your pussy subsides, when this relentless itch has finally been scratched, you’ll be brave enough to say it again. 

He finally cums, hips snapping into yours as he spills into you with a deep groan. His hips twitch against you as you continue to hold him there, letting him fill you. 

He nearly collapses over you, just managing to keep his full weight off of you. His skin is hot against yours, only adding to the sweat slicking your bodies. You’re worried he might suction to you, though you could hardly complain. You’d suction yourself to your alpha permanently if you could. You stroke his sweaty back, both of you laying in silence as you catch your breaths, letting the pleasure of the moment linger as long as possible. Your pussy flutters around him, pushing some of his seed out around his cock. 

“Fuck.” He groans, his lips brushing your ear. “Making my cock hurt, sweetheart.”

You hum, drawing patterns on his back. “You don't have to do it, you know. I can always go to one of the others.”

He lets out a low growl, pressing down so his weight is almost fully against you, trapping you under him. “You're mine to take care of.” He rumbles in your ear, lips brushing the shell. 

You let out a quiet whine, relaxing under him as he presses soft kisses to your skin. A shiver running through you as he kisses his mark on your neck. You arch your back slightly, pressing closer to his chest. 

“Easy, pup.” He says, shifting off of you. You whine as his cock slips from your pussy, your walls fluttering at the loss. “You need to rest.”

You pout as he rolls you onto your side, locking his arms around you to keep you still. Your pout shifts into a smirk as you press your ass back against him, putting pressure on his cock. 

“Stop.” He commands, releasing you to slap the side of your thigh. 

You yelp at the contact, but a smile pulls at your lips. “Yes, daddy.”

A low growl rumbles in his chest as he wraps his arms around you again, keeping you pinned against his chest. “What prompted this change?” He growls in your ear. 

You shrug, your hands coming up to wrap around his arms. “Mood felt right, I guess.” 

“I’m certainly not complaining.” He says, nipping at your ear. 

You whine, pressing your ass back against him again. He pushes back, pressing your legs further forward. 

“You need to sleep.” He says, the warning in his tone clear as day. 

“Can’t.” You whine, slickness already coating your thighs again. 

He slips a hand down your front, pushing it between your legs to feel how wet you are still. “Did you tell Dr. Keller about this?” He asks. 

You nod, spreading your legs as he pushes two fingers into you. “Yeah.” 

“And what did she say?” He asks, holding his fingers still inside you. 

You pause for a moment, your hazy brain trying to remember that conversation, but all you can remember is how insanely horny you’ve been these last few days. “I don’t remember.” 

He grunts in disapproval, your legs closing around his hand, trapping him there. “I’ll ask her about it tomorrow.” He breathes, pressing a kiss behind your ear. “Get some rest, for me. I know you’re tired.” 

You let out a quiet whine at the growl under his voice, his alpha slipping out to try and convince you to sleep without commanding it. You know he could, he probably should, as you shift on his fingers, moaning softly as they press up against your sensitive walls. 

This is going to be a long night. 

He feels like this is becoming a regular occurrence, sitting across from Dr. Keller, voicing his concerns about his omega. She always looks so sympathetic and understanding, always so attentive, listening to every word. He never had any doubts about your doctor, but the more time he spends in her office, he can see why you like her so much. 

“Pseudo-heat.” She says, after listening to him ramble on about your intense desire and neediness, the insane level of horniness that’s plagued you these last few days, ever since your first time with Simon. “I had my concerns after our last appointment together. She brought it up, but she was so out of it, here but not here.” A smile tugs at her lips. “I’m not sure she heard a word I said.” 

“I don’t think she did.” John says, leaning back in his seat. “Is this dangerous?” 

Dr. Keller shakes her head. “Not entirely. They can happen for many reasons, usually a hormone imbalance, a disruption in pack dynamics, or a rejection of an alpha. Occasionally, though, they can be brought on by a new bond with a second alpha.” 

John grunts quietly, the pieces beginning to come together. “This started after she slept with Simon the first time.” 

Dr. Keller nods. Obviously you would have brought that up to her. “They both have very intense instincts, and while Lieutenant Riley might not have claimed her, that bond is equally as intense as it settles into place.” 

“Is there a way to stop the intense...neediness? I’m worried she might fuck herself to death.” 

Dr. Keller chuckles. “She won’t. She’s young and healthy and while it might take a physical toll, the rest of you are more likely to suffer before she does. This is where toys come in handy for omegas. I don’t doubt the rest of you are beginning to feel it.” 

John grunts. “You could say that.” 

“Keep her hydrated, try to get her to rest if you can. It’ll pass in a few days.” 

“Will this have an effect on her actual heat?” John asks. He knows you’re due for one very soon. 

“It shouldn’t.” Dr. Keller says, looking at her calendar. “The only thing I’d worry about is if she’ll have enough time to physically recover before it starts. Otherwise she’s going to be in for a world of hurt when she comes out the other side. Of course, I can help with that once she gets there. It’s very likely her preheat may cause this all to stop. I doubt she’d get thrown into her heat without her body doing any preparation. Just keep a close eye on her, watch her temperature and any other typical physical signs of her heat.” 

John nods. He knows how dangerous it would be if you suddenly went into heat. He’d never dream of hurting Simon on purpose, but the thought of losing his mind and attacking his second alpha over their omega has him terrified. 

“Simon?” You ask, rolling over in his bed as he picks up the towel from the floor. 

“Hm?” He hums, walking into the bathroom to hang the towel over the shower door. 

“Can I ask you something?” You continue as he comes back out of the bathroom with a damp rag, parting your legs to wipe you clean. You wince at the roughness of the rag on your sensitive skin.

“Depends.” He says, going back into the bathroom. You hear running water for a few seconds before he comes back out. 

“You don't have to answer if you don't want to.” You say, scooting over to give him room as he slides under the covers with you. “Just curious.”

“Go ahead.” He says, tucking his sheets around the two of you. 

“How did you learn to do that?” You ask, pressing yourself against his chest, your cheeks warming a bit. “Make a girl squirt?” 

He hums again, the sound vibrating against your ear. “One of the few relationships I've been in, back when I was a recruit. Dated a beta. She was into it and taught me how to do it.” 

“Why did you break up?” You ask, immediately regretting the question. You know how closed off he is, how tightly he keeps his past sealed. That you know as much as you do about him is a privilege.

“Mutual decision.” He says. “Got busy, started going on longer and longer deployments as I moved up the ranks. She didn't like me being away for so long at a time, so we moved on with our lives. Never really had time for another relationship or wanted one until I joined this pack. Even then, at first I wasn't interested.”

“But Johnny wormed his way into your heart.” You say. You've heard the story from Johnny before. 

Simon huffs out a laugh. “Persistent bastard.” He squeezes you tightly. “Almost worse than you.”

You giggle, squirming in his grasp as he tickles your sides. “Hey! I wasn't even trying!” 

He rolls over onto his back, shifting you onto his chest. “Still.” He says, cupping your face. “Managed to win me over in the end.”

“I'm glad I did.” You say, looking into his eyes. “I'm glad you finally gave in.”

He smirks under the mask, you can tell by the way his mouth moves beneath the fabric. “Me too.” He releases your face, letting you rest on his chest. “Don’t tell Johnny.” 

Your nails drag over the top of his muscular thighs, feeling the soft skin mingling with faded scars and wiry hair. Johnny stares at you over the edge of his sketchpad, his dark eyes watching your every move like a hawk. 

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip, fighting to contain the eager grin that bares your teeth to him, showing your excitement at being face to face with his cock. Your nails dare to venture closer to his base, teasing the skin of his pelvis now as you lower your head to place a kiss on his weeping tip. 

Johnny’s breath hitches, his eyes falling shut at the initial contact. A shudder runs through him, his grip on the sketch pad tightening, fingers curling around the edges. 

“Thought you were supposed to be drawing.” You say, your hand wrapping around the base of his cock.

“Christ almighty...” He breathes, staring at you for a moment longer before turning his gaze to the sketchpad. 

You don’t move until you hear the scratch of his pencil on the paper, lowering your head as you hold his length in place. Johnny bites his lip, a strangled moan choking in his throat as your tongue trails a line from his sack, up the length of his shaft until you reach the sensitive head. You close your mouth around the tip, meeting his gaze as the sound of the pencil pauses. 

You pull away from him, meeting his gaze as he stares at you. A smile tugs at your lips, your hand holding his cock in place as he fights the urge to throw the sketch pad off the bed. He’s struggling to stay focused, fighting the urge to succumb to the pleasure of your touch. 

You don’t move until he looks back at the pad, the scratch of the pencil starting once more. You return your attention to his cock, flicking your tongue over his slit, tasting the salty precum pooling at the tip. Johnny’s nostrils flare as he exhales deeply, shaking his head just slightly as if he’s trying to shake off the distraction you’re proving to be. 

Your other hand moves to gently cup his balls, massaging and rolling the soft spheres in your hold. Johnny finally reacts, letting a breathless moan escape him in a moment of lost concentration, his hips bucking involuntarily. 

“Christ, bonnie,” He exhales. 

Your thighs clench together, still slick from when you sat on his face earlier, pussy still pulsing despite the three orgasms he gave you. Your arousal threatens to leave a damp spot on the bed, a lasting reminder of the events of this evening. 

You finally take him into your mouth, shifting just slightly as you sink down on his length. Another groan leaves his lips, the pencil stalling for a moment as you flatten your tongue against his shaft, taking as much as you can into your mouth. You fight the urge to gag around him, pulling back until just his tip is in your mouth. You swallow the build up of saliva in your mouth, tinted with the flavor of his precum. 

You continue your ministrations as he continues drawing, bobbing in a slow, steady rhythm as your free hand cups his balls. His legs clench around you, muscles flexing and relaxing, flexing and relaxing as he fights to keep control over himself. Drool pools at the edges of your lips, dribbling down his length and collecting at the hand still wrapped around his base. 

You take a breath through your nose before easing further down until his tip hits the back of your throat. You gag around him, tears reflexively rimming your waterline. Johnny's hips twitch as he fights the urge to buck up into you, knuckles going white around the edge of the sketchpad. 

You hold that position for a moment, breathing through your nose before relaxing your throat, taking him as far as you can. Johnny groans, peering over the edge of the sketchpad, meeting your gaze as your lips nearly press against the hand holding his base. He stares at you for a moment before going back to his sketch, pretending to pay you no mind as his legs relax around you. 

You accept the silent challenge, speeding up your movements as you bob on him, your tongue flicking the underside of his crown. Your hands leave his cock, settling on his thighs as you take him as deep as you can with each movement of your head, nails biting into the sensitive skin. 

“Fuck....” He groans, muscles tensing under you again, and you would have smiled had it not been for the cock currently stuffed in your mouth. 

Your lips are starting to sting from being stretched around his girth as you take him deep into your throat, gagging around him. He echoes with his own groan from the way your throat constricts around him. The hand holding the sketch pad is shaking slightly, his breaths quiet gasps as he tries to hold in his pleasure. 

You ease yourself back up his cock, your tongue tracing the tick vein on the underside of his shaft. You flick the tip of your tongue along the underside of his crown, nearly pulling a whine from his lips. The pathetic sound drives you to continue the motion, flicking your tongue back and forth as your hand shifts to stroke his length. His cock is raging red, twitching in your grasp as you drag your tongue along his weeping slit again. 

“Fuck...” He hisses, his hips twitching again. 

He’s not holding back anymore, needy moans falling from his lips, his pencil continuing to falter as you tease his head. His hips jerk, trying to push his cock against your face, smearing precum on your lips. 

“Gonna cum?” You ask, taking hold of his cock again as you lazily trailing your tongue over the veins lining the throbbing appendage. 

He groans, fingers nearly denting the sketch pad as he grips it for dear life. “Fuckin’...yes!” 

You take him into your mouth again, sinking down as far as you can, your nose nearly touching the hand holding his cock. He twitches in your mouth, his stomach flexing as you gag again, squeezing your eyes shut to fight the reflex. More drool drips onto his pelvis, soaking the dark hair that lines his cock. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He drops his pencil, his hand shooting to hold the back of your head as he cums in your mouth. You take what he gives you, swallowing around him as he twitches against your tongue. “Screamin’ Jesus.” He moans, tugging on your hair to lift you off his cock. “Gonnae kill me. Fuckin’ got my boabie aching.” 

You lick your lips, getting every last drop of precum and drool left. Johnny groans as he releases your hair, his hand reaching for his pencil where he’d dropped it off to his side. He’s not wrong in complaining about his cock hurting. Even you’re beginning to feel the last few days, the ache lingering longer and longer after every fuck, every orgasm. 

You crawl your way up Johnny’s body, flopping yourself on his chest. He grunts quietly as your weight falls rather ungracefully on him. You lay there, catching your breath, the salty tang of his cum on your tongue. He’s breathing heavily too, sweat slicking his skin where it’s pressed against yours. 

“Insatiable little kitten.” He grumbles, resting his sketchpad on your back as he returns to drawing. 

“Can't help it.” You murmur, your head resting on his shoulder. “Feel like I'm going insane.”

“Yer just releasin’ pent up energy.” Johnny says. 

You shift slightly against his chest, shocked he can have such coherent thoughts after an orgasm. “Huh?”

“You and Simon have been dancin’ around each other fer months now. Ye have a lot of pent up energy between you, and ye need to let it out. He's been just as insatiable.” Johnny explains. 

A frown pulls at your brows as you think it over. It makes sense, that the two of you would have a lot of pent up energy, paired with your heightened instincts, you just want to fuck each other senseless until that energy disperses. 

“Makes sense.” You murmur, nuzzling against Johnny's shoulder, relaxing in his soothing scent and the sound of the pencil on paper. 

He hums, the sound vibrating through you. He presses his nose into your hair for a moment, breathing you in. His lips brush your forehead, pressing soft kisses along your hairline. “So fuckin’ sweet.” He groans. “Fuckin’ love you.”

His words wipe all urge to sleep from your mind, suddenly wide awake. You tense just slightly, waiting for him to realize what he said, to change his mind and backtrack. 

You've said it, confessed your feelings to John and he had said it back with no hesitation, but had he only said it because you said it first? He hasn't said it since then, but neither have you. 

You take in a shaky breath, planting your hand against his chest to ground yourself. You'll never know until you ask. It's Johnny, you can trust him, ask him anything and trust he'll be honest with you. “You mean it?” the words are small, quiet on the off chance he won't hear and you can backtrack yourself. 

“Course.” He says, his lips brushing your forehead. “We all do. Hard not to love our sweet omega.” 

You hum quietly, shocked by the words. “Well, that’s good.” You say, swallowing the nervous lump forming in your throat. “Because I love you too.” 

He turns to look at you, a grin pulling at his lips. He sets his sketchpad against your back, wrapping his arms around you. He presses his lips to yours, tangling a hand in his hair again. The kiss leaves you breathless, so much emotion and passion poured into it. He licks into your mouth, stirring the warmth in your stomach again. 

He groans against your lips, feeling the slick of your thighs as you start to slip off his chest to his side. “Not again.” He whines, pulling away from your lips. 

“I’m fine.” You say, trying to force away the insatiable warmth in your stomach. “Can I see what you were drawing?” 

“‘Course.” He says, shifting the sketch pad to his right hand so you can see. 

It’s a drawing of you, eyes looking forward with his cock halfway into your mouth, lips spread around him. Your hand is holding his base, fingers delicately wrapped around the thick shaft. You lick your lips, suddenly finding it hard to stop the slick wetting your thighs again. 

“If you ever get tired of the military, you could be a professional artist.” You say, staring at the detail in the drawing that he managed despite the fact you were attempting to suck the soul out of him. 

He chuckles. “Yer not the first one to say that.” 

“‘M serious.” You say, as the exhaustion from the day starts to weigh heavy on your brain. 

“Thank ye.” He says, kissing your forehead. “Get some rest, kitten.” He says, moving the sketchpad back so it’s resting on your side as he goes back to drawing. 

You can't help it as your eyes begin to slip closed, lulled to sleep by his warmth and the sounds of him sketching. 

It's the first time in days you've woken up without your pussy throbbing in need. Your half asleep brain can't comprehend what it means as you press a hand between your legs, finding only the dried fluids from the night stuck to your thighs. You blink awareness back into your mind, laying there with your hand between your legs. 

Kyle groans behind you, his arm tight around your waist. “Not again.”

You're finally awake enough to digest what the dryness between your legs means and you push yourself up to sit. “I'm not horny.”

Kyle shifts slightly behind you, still half asleep. “Hmm?”

“I'm not horny.” You repeat yourself, withdrawing your hand from between your legs. 

Kyle pushes himself up to sit, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He slips his own hand between your legs, running his fingers over your folds. Despite how nice it feels, you don't feel the urge to grind against them, to take his wrist and hold his hand still as you fuck yourself on his fingers. 

“Damn.” He says, withdrawing his hand. “Looks like we finally fucked it out of you.” He leans over, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “Fucking glad, my cock is starting to hurt.”

You huff out a breath. “You old men and your sore cocks.”

“Hey!” He tries to grab for you, but you're faster, slipping out of arm's length as you grab your panties from the floor. “‘M not that old.”

“Well, you're certainly acting like it.” You say, sticking your tongue out at him. 

He jumps off the bed, wrapping his arms around you before you can reach the door, lifting you off your feet. His fingers dig into your sides, tickling you. You shriek out a laugh, wiggling to try and escape his relentless tickling. 

“Okay, okay!” You gasp out. “You’re not old.” 

“Thank you.” He says, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he sets you back on your feet. “We've spent way too much time fucking this week for you to call me old.” He delivers a slap to your ass before pulling away. 

He grabs clothes to change into and you steal one of his shirts, pulling it on before walking down to your room. You pause in front of your door, your eyes drawing to the gap between the door and the frame. Your heart rate picks up as you stand there, panic making your fingers shake. You closed it. You distinctly remember closing it, hearing it click before you slipped into Kyle's room. 

You peek around the hallway, trying to keep your breathing even. Johnny's door is open across the hall, but he's not inside. Kyle has gone to the bathroom, and both Simon’s and John's doors are closed. You have half a mind to run for John's office, or to knock on the doors, something. 

What if they're not in there, though? No one will hear you if something happens, or be able to get to you in time. 

But what is the likelihood of anyone managing to get in without anyone noticing, even if none of them are in the hallway? Kyle had just left and would have noticed. There would be a smell, a bad vibe, something. Simon would have noticed immediately if he’s left his room already. Johnny would have noticed. Someone would know. 

Your fingers shake as they wrap around the knob. You can scream. Scream and they'll make it in record time. For all you know, maybe you didn't close your door. Or maybe one of them had come looking for you and forgot to close it. 

Yeah. 

That's probably it. 

You take a deep breath in, closing your hand around the knob tightly before throwing the door open. You take half a step back in shock, your startled shriek reducing to a squeak in your throat as a familiar dark figure turns to you. 

“Simon!” You gasp, putting a hand on your chest. “You scared the shit out of me!” You look between him and your closet, and the many clothes draped over your bed and your desk chair, and even the bear. “What are you doing?” 

“Your closet is a mess.” He says, hanging the shirt in his hands. “You're living in a pigsty.”

You pout, looking around at your dirty clothes on the floor. “It's not a pigsty.”

He gives you a glance out of the corner of his eye as he hangs the shirt in your closet. 

You step into your room, calming the uneasy panic. It's just Simon who entered your room. Simon who felt the need to reorganize your clothes. “Simon?”  

He hums, hanging things back in your closet. 

���Where's my laundry basket?” You ask, noticing the empty space against the wall. 

“Started a load for you.” He says, grabbing more from the stack on your desk chair. 

You look over at your desk, your eyes scanning your books. “Did...did you reorganize my books too?” 

He nods. “Alphabetically by author's last name in each genre.” 

You nod slowly, turning away from your desk. “Right. How long have you been up?” 

Simon shrugs. “Couple hours.” 

“Uh huh.” You nod, moving to your dresser to dig out clean clothes for the day. 

Simon lets out a long breath as you dig for a shirt, drawing your gaze up to him. He shakes his head, eyes focused on your mess. 

“It's not that bad!” You say defensively, pushing the drawer closed. 

“How do you find anything?” He says, staring down at you disappointedly. 

“Like I just did. I know which shirt is which.” You say, crossing your arms. 

He shakes his head, rolling his eyes as he turns back to your closet. “Fucking hell.” 

You can’t hide your smile as you head for your bathroom, getting ready for the day. 

Your stomach starts to growl as you’re brushing your teeth, the hunger gnawing almost painfully. You frown, rubbing at your stomach as you rinse your mouth. You’d had a snack last night before creeping into Kyle’s room. Maybe the exertion of the last week is catching up to you. 

You exit the bathroom, finding your clothes put away in your closet and Simon missing with the dirty clothes on the floor. You’re not usually that messy, but with the last week having gone the way it did, cleaning was the last thing on your mind. You grab a pair of shoes before stepping out into the hallway, still rubbing your stomach. 

“Hungry?” John asks, coming down the hallway. 

You nod, your stomach growling again. “Yeah.” 

“Come on.” He puts a hand on your back, steering you out of the barracks. 

You’re still a bit on edge from your panic earlier, your body shifting towards John’s as you pass by groups of soldiers. He wraps an arm around you, keeping you glued to his side as you make your way into the mess. 

He makes your tray for you, plating up your favorites before carrying it to the table. You’re the first ones there, the other three still missing. You don’t care, digging into your tray immediately to try and ease the ache in your stomach. It’s like you’ve traded now, the ache in your pussy for the ache in your stomach. 

You're halfway done with your tray by the time the others take their seats, not even pausing shoveling food in your mouth to acknowledge their presence. 

“Slow down, love. Food’s not going anywhere.” Kyle says, patting your back gently. 

“Hungry.” Is all you say around bites of sausage. 

“How much of a workout did ye put her through last night?” Johnny asks Kyle. 

Kyle smirks, glancing down at you before looking at Johnny. “Apparently a good one.” 

The dig into their own trays, eating slowly as you continue to inhale your food until there’s nothing left. The scrape of your spoon against the tray has you pouting, your stomach still rumbling. You’re half tempted to lick the tray to get up every last bit of food off of it. 

“What?” Simon asks, looking at you as you pout. 

“Still hungry.” You say, pushing your empty tray away from you, resting your elbows on the table and your head in your hands. 

They all share a look, pausing in their own eating. You feel like crying, the gnawing in your stomach relentless and uncomfortable. 

“Love...” Kyle says, his tone hesitant, like he’s about to deliver horrible news. 

It will be horrible news. The pieces are beginning to come together now. Waking up not horny after nearly a week of being horny, the insatiable hunger, your pouty attitude. 

You lift your head from your hands, your arms dropping onto the table. You don’t look at them, already knowing what you’d see if you did. They’ve put it together faster than you have, your stomach swirling with emotions. You’ve lost track of time, not even thinking about how much time has passed, how the weeks have flown by. Dr. Keller had mentioned it briefly, but you had been in too much of a horny daze to really comprehend it. 

There’s a pit in your stomach, the panic from earlier starting to bubble up again, but this time for a different reason. You feel like crawling under the table and curling up in a ball, that, or stealing Johnny’s tray to finish off the eggs he’s not eating nearly fast enough. You take in a deep breath, trying to steady the sudden onslaught of overwhelming emotions

“Fuck.” 

NEXT ->

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[hoshifighting]

when you start to ignore them — seventeen as your crush

hyung line / maknae line

minghao’s not dumb—he felt it when things shifted. the way you suddenly stopped giving him those small gifts, the attention, the lingering gazes when he caught your eye. he didn’t know why, but he knew something had changed. he never mentioned it, though. minghao’s never been one to chase attention, but yours? yeah, he got used to it. maybe too used to it. the weird part is, he started to crush on you too. he’d look forward to your little gifts, the way you’d brighten up around him. he thought he’d play it cool, but now? now he feels like he’s the one waiting.

one afternoon, after another day of you barely acknowledging him, he corners you. his voice is calm, but there’s something sharp beneath the surface. “did something happen between us?” you blink at him, caught off guard by the sudden confrontation. “no… why?”

he tilts his head, eyes narrowing. “you stopped talking to me. stopped giving me attention.” his lips curl into a smirk, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “i thought you liked me.” the words hang in the air, and for a second, you swear you see a flicker of irritation in his eyes. “or was that just for fun?”

mingyu’s used to girls crushing on him. he’s tall, handsome, and charming without even trying, so it never surprises him when people start showing him attention. he thought you were just like everyone else at first—another person fawning over him. but then, you stopped. and fuck, that’s when he realized it was different.

he never thought much of it before, but when your gifts stopped showing up, when you stopped hanging around him, it hit him hard. he didn’t expect to miss it, didn’t expect to miss you. but here he is, sitting in the practice room, scrolling through his phone, wondering why you’re suddenly ignoring him. “hey,” he catches you outside the dorms one evening, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “you’ve been… quiet.”

you raise an eyebrow. “quiet?”

he nods, swallowing. “yeah. you used to, y’know, be around more.” he glances away, almost embarrassed. “i kinda miss it.” there’s a pause, and when you don’t respond right away, mingyu’s chest tightens. “did i do something wrong? or… were you just over it?” his voice is softer than usual, less cocky, and it makes you realize how much he actually liked having you around. maybe more than he let on.

seokmin doesn’t take it well. when you stop giving him attention, he feels it immediately. it’s like a cloud settles over him, and he doesn’t know how to shake it.

he tries to laugh it off at first. “oh, what did I do now y/n-nie?” he jokes, flashing you one of his signature grins. but when you don’t laugh, when you just shrug and walk away, his smile falters. it eats at him for daysssss!! he hates it. hates how much he’s thinking about you, about the way you’ve been avoiding him. he misses your presence, your gifts, your attention.

finally, he can’t take it anymore. one night, after practice, he pulls you aside, his expression serious for once. “why are you ignoring me?”

“i’m not—”

“you are,” he cuts you off, his voice a little sharper than usual. “you used to care, you used to… i don’t know, you used to make me feel special. now it’s like i don’t even exist to you.” his voice cracks.

“what the hell ive done?! or are you just tired of me?”

seungkwan’s first instinct is to make you jealous. when he realizes you’ve stopped giving him attention, stopped following him around, his pride takes a hit. so, he starts flirting with others more openly, trying to get a reaction out of you.

but it doesn’t work. you don’t even seem to care, and that only makes him more frustrated. after a week of his failed attempts, he finally gives up and decides to confront you. “what’s going on?” he asks one day, crossing his arms over his chest, clearly annoyed. “you’ve been ignoring me, and it’s pissing me off.”

you raise an eyebrow, not really in the mood for his theatrics. “pissing you off?” he huffs, rolling his eyes. “yeah. you used to be all over me, and now… nothing. did you find someone else or something?”

there’s a pause, and for the first time, seungkwan’s usual confidence wavers. “i don’t like it,” he admits quietly, his voice softer now. “i miss you.” it’s a rare moment of openness from him, and you can tell he means it.

“can we… can we go back to how things were?”

vernon doesn’t say anything for a while. he notices when you stop hanging around him, but he’s not the type to make a big deal out of it. he figures you’re just busy, or maybe you’ve lost interest, and he tells himself it’s fine. but deep down he knows its not.

after a few days of silence, vernon starts to feel restless. he misses the small things—the way you’d smile at him, the way you’d always bring him snacks, when you click your fingers on his face when he zooms out or laugh at his dumb jokes. without you around, everything feels off. he catches you one day after class, his hands shoved in his pockets as he looks at you. “sup’, you good?”

“yeah, why?”

he shrugs, glancing away. “just… you’ve been kinda distant.” he pauses, trying to find the right words. “i don’t like it. actually, i like having you around...” his voice is quiet, almost shy, and it takes you a second to realize he’s being serious. “i mean, i get it if you’re over it or whatever, but…” he trails off, rubbing the back of his neck. “i really miss you. that’s all.”

chan’s reaction is instantaneous. the moment you stop giving him attention, he starts giving it right back. it’s like he can’t stand the idea of losing your presence, so he tries to fill the gap himself.

suddenly, he’s the one following you around, offering you snacks, little gifts, even bubblegum. “here, thought you might like this,” he says with a grin, holding out a pack of your favorite candy.

“uh, thanks…”

he smiles, but there’s a hint of nervousness in his eyes. “you’ve been kinda quiet lately. figured i’d return the favor, y’know?” he keeps it up for days, going out of his way to get your attention, to make you smile. and when you finally ask him why he’s doing it, he just shrugs, his usual confidence slipping a bit.

“i missed you,” he admits softly, his eyes dropping to the floor. “you used to do all this for me, and i didn’t realize how much i liked it until you stopped.” there’s a beat of silence before he looks up at you again, his voice quieter now. “i guess… i just wanted to remind you that i care too.”

[pucksandpower]

Wild Goose Chase

Oscar Piastri x soulmate!Reader

Summary: in which Oscar is terrorized by the soulmate goose of enforcement … until he runs into you (literally)

Oscar Piastri is not one to get flustered. It’s kind of his thing — cool under pressure, calm in the face of chaos, composed when the world around him loses its mind. But right now, he’s seconds away from losing his.

“Bloody hell,” he mutters under his breath, scanning the area around the paddock, eyes darting from side to side.

The coast looks clear, but Oscar knows better by now. The stupid goose is lurking somewhere, probably eyeing him like he’s the world’s most wanted criminal. He barely makes it five steps before he hears the familiar, grating honk.

“Oh, come on!” Oscar yelps, whirling around to face the persistent bird. Sure enough, there it is, waddling towards him like it owns the place, beady eyes fixed on him with the intensity of a predator stalking its prey. “What do you want from me?”

The goose doesn’t answer, obviously. It just keeps coming, wings fluttering slightly as if gearing up to make his life a living hell for the umpteenth time that day. Oscar takes a cautious step back, then another, but the bird matches his pace, honking louder, as if it’s mocking him.

“This is ridiculous,” he mumbles, glancing around for any sign of help. But the paddock is nearly deserted — most of the crew are inside, probably watching the CCTV footage of his latest goose chase and having a good laugh at his expense. He sighs, resignation settling in as the goose inches closer, its beak snapping in a way that’s far more menacing than it has any right to be.

“Fine, you win,” Oscar concedes, hands held up in surrender. “But you’re not biting me again.”

He takes off, jogging towards the gate that leads out of the paddock, hoping to shake the bird off. It’s a fool’s hope, really. The goose gives chase, honking triumphantly as it gains on him. Oscar barely makes it through the gate before the bird nips at his ankles, forcing him into a full-on sprint down the sidewalk.

“I don’t even know where I’m going!” He shouts over his shoulder, like that might actually make the goose reconsider its life choices. It doesn’t. Of course, it doesn’t. The bird just keeps at it, relentless as ever, as if this is its sole mission in life.

Oscar rounds a corner, nearly colliding with a group of tourists who scatter like pigeons at the sight of the manic goose. He mutters an apology, hardly slowing down as he bolts across the street, narrowly avoiding a car. The goose, undeterred by traffic, flies over the vehicle and lands in front of him, honking like it’s conducting some kind of victory parade.

“Alright, alright, I get it! Just leave me alone!” Oscar’s practically pleading now, breath coming in short bursts as he darts into a nearby alleyway, hoping to lose the bird in the maze of narrow streets. But the goose follows, nipping at his heels like a relentless shadow.

He’s so busy looking back at the bird that he doesn’t notice you — at least not until he crashes into you, the impact sending you both sprawling to the ground. Time seems to slow as he twists mid-air, instinctively trying to cushion your fall with his own body. He hits the pavement first, the breath knocked out of him as you land on top of him in a tangle of limbs.

“Ow,” you groan, pushing yourself up on your elbows, blinking down at him in confusion. “What the hell was that?”

Oscar’s too winded to answer immediately. He blinks up at you, dazed, trying to process what just happened. The goose, victorious, waddles in front of you both, honking one last time before it saunters off as if it has better things to do.

“Did … did that goose just attack you?” You ask, incredulity coloring your voice as you roll off him and sit up.

Oscar finally catches his breath, nodding as he pushes himself into a sitting position beside you. “Yeah,” he pants, running a hand through his hair. “That’s … been happening a lot, actually.”

You stare at him, wide-eyed. “Seriously?”

“Unfortunately,” he replies, shooting the retreating goose a glare. “It’s like it has some kind of vendetta against me.”

You can’t help it — you laugh. It’s a startled, slightly hysterical sound, but it quickly turns into something genuine as you take in the absurdity of the situation. Oscar joins in, the tension in his shoulders easing as the laughter bubbles up between you.

“This is so weird,” you say, shaking your head as the laughter dies down. “I’ve never heard of a goose doing that before.”

“Neither have I,” Oscar agrees, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “But here we are.”

There’s a beat of silence as you both catch your breath, the ridiculousness of the situation settling in. Finally, you look at him, curiosity shining in your eyes. “So … what’s your deal? Did you, like, offend the goose gods or something?”

Oscar chuckles, shaking his head. “Not that I know of. I’m just trying to do my job, and that bird’s decided it doesn’t like me.”

“And what’s your job?” You ask, genuinely curious now. “Are you, like, a bird whisperer or something?”

He laughs again, this time a bit more ruefully. “No, nothing like that. I’m a driver. For McLaren.”

You blink, clearly not recognizing the name. “Is that, like, a taxi service?”

Oscar blinks back at you, momentarily stunned into silence. “No, it’s … it’s Formula 1. Racing.”

Your eyes widen in realization. “Oh! Right, that makes sense. Sorry, I don’t really follow sports.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, waving off your apology with a grin. “Most people don’t get chased by geese for a living.”

You smile at that, the tension between you easing into something more comfortable. “So, what brings you here, then? Besides being terrorized by a bird, I mean.”

“Just in town for a race,” he replies, glancing around as if the goose might come back at any moment. “But, uh, I didn’t expect my biggest challenge this weekend to be a goose.”

You laugh again, shaking your head in disbelief. “I can’t believe this is happening right now. You’re probably the last person I’d expect to crash into on a random street.”

“Believe me, the feeling’s mutual,” Oscar says, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “But, I guess if I had to crash into someone, I’m glad it was you.”

You raise an eyebrow, the hint of a smirk playing on your lips. “Oh? And why’s that?”

Oscar opens his mouth to respond, but before he can, the goose makes a reappearance, honking loudly as it charges at him again. His eyes widen in alarm, and he scrambles to his feet, pulling you up with him. “Because you might be able to help me get rid of this thing!”

You yelp in surprise as he grabs your hand, dragging you along as he takes off down the street. The goose gives chase once more, honking furiously as it flaps its wings in a bid to catch up.

“Do you even know where you’re going?” You shout, barely keeping pace with him as he pulls you around a corner.

“Not a clue!” Oscar admits, breathless but grinning as he glances back at you. “But it’s either this or let the goose win!”

You can’t help but laugh, the absurdity of the situation catching up to you again. “Okay, okay, I’m in! Let’s outsmart this goose!”

You round another corner together, darting into a small park in the hopes of losing the bird in the greenery. The goose, however, is nothing if not persistent, and it’s not long before it spots you again, honking in triumph as it barrels towards you both.

“Any bright ideas?” You ask, glancing around frantically for an escape route.

Oscar scans the park, his mind racing. “There!” He says, pointing towards a small, man-made pond. “If we can get across that bridge, maybe we can lose it in the water.”

You nod, and the two of you take off towards the pond, the goose hot on your heels. As you reach the bridge, Oscar lets go of your hand, urging you to go first.

“Ladies first!” He shouts, grinning despite the situation.

You roll your eyes but can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips as you sprint across the bridge. Oscar follows close behind, and for a moment, it seems like the plan might work. But then the goose decides it’s had enough of running and takes flight, swooping low over the water and landing directly in front of you on the other side of the bridge.

“Seriously?” You exclaim, skidding to a halt as the bird blocks your path, its beady eyes glinting with what can only be described as malicious glee.

Oscar stops short beside you, hands on his knees as he catches his breath. “Okay, new plan,” he says between gasps for air. “We … we try to reason with it.”

You stare at him like he’s lost his mind. “Reason with a goose? Are you for real?”

“Do you have a better idea?” He shoots back, straightening up and taking a cautious step forward. “Hey, uh, Mr. Goose? We, uh, we come in peace. There’s no need for any more … biting or chasing or-” He flinches as the goose lets out a loud, aggressive honk, cutting him off mid-sentence.

You try not to laugh, but a snort escapes anyway, earning you a sidelong glance from Oscar. “I’m just saying,” you whisper, “this is probably the weirdest thing I’ve ever been a part of.”

“You and me both,” he mutters, still watching the goose warily. “Okay, new plan … again.”

“Run?” You suggest, but there’s no real conviction in your voice. It’s clear neither of you has much hope of outrunning the bird, especially now that it’s in full attack mode.

“Actually, I was thinking maybe we just …” Oscar hesitates, then sighs, “Sit down.”

“Sit down?” You’re incredulous, but he’s already lowering himself to the grass, crossing his legs like he’s about to meditate. The goose, now only a few feet away, seems puzzled by this new development. It tilts its head to the side, honking softly, almost as if it’s confused.

“Worth a try,” Oscar says, motioning for you to sit beside him. “I have no idea if this will work, but we’ve tried everything else.”

You give him a skeptical look but eventually lower yourself beside him, crossing your legs and mirroring his posture. The goose blinks, looking between the two of you, as if it’s trying to figure out what the catch is.

For a moment, nothing happens. The three of you sit there, locked in a bizarre standoff, with you and Oscar on one side and the goose on the other. Then, to your surprise, the bird takes a cautious step forward. Then another. And another, until it’s standing right in front of you both, its head tilted as if it’s studying you.

“What now?” You whisper, barely daring to breathe.

“I don’t know,” Oscar admits, his voice just as low. “Maybe … maybe it just wanted us to stop running.”

You exchange a glance, both of you too stunned to do much more than sit there and wait for whatever’s going to happen next. The goose seems to consider you for a long moment before it lets out a soft honk — nothing like the aggressive sounds from earlier. Then, with a final bob of its head, it turns and waddles away, disappearing into the bushes on the other side of the pond.

“Did that just happen?” You ask, still half-expecting the bird to reappear and resume its attack.

Oscar blinks, as if coming out of a daze. “I think … I think it gave up.”

You look at him, and then suddenly the absurdity of it all hits you like a tidal wave. You laugh, loud and unrestrained, doubling over as the stress and tension of the chase evaporate. Oscar joins in, his laughter rich and full, and before you know it, you’re both lying back on the grass, staring up at the sky, tears streaming down your faces.

“I can’t believe that actually worked,” Oscar says between fits of laughter, his voice filled with disbelief.

“Neither can I,” you manage to gasp out, wiping away the tears from your eyes. “What even was that? I feel like I’m in some kind of weird dream.”

“Tell me about it,” Oscar says, finally catching his breath. “I’ve faced some crazy stuff on the track, but this … this takes the cake.”

You both lie there in silence for a moment, the sky above you turning a soft shade of orange as the sun begins to set. The chaos of the day feels far away now, replaced by a strange sense of peace that settles over you both.

“I’m glad I crashed into you,” Oscar says suddenly, his voice quieter now, more thoughtful.

You turn your head to look at him, surprised by the sincerity in his tone. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he nods, his eyes still on the sky. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I could’ve done without the goose situation, but … I don’t know. Maybe it was worth it.”

You smile, a warmth spreading through your chest. “I guess if a goose had to chase you down, it’s kind of nice that it led you here.”

“To you,” he adds, his eyes meeting yours, something unspoken passing between you.

The air between you shifts, the playful banter from earlier giving way to something more serious, more charged. For a moment, neither of you says anything, just holding each other’s gaze as the reality of what’s happened settles in.

“Do you think …” you start, then hesitate, unsure of how to put it into words. “Do you think the goose was trying to, I don’t know, tell us something?”

Oscar chuckles softly, but there’s a seriousness in his eyes as he nods. “Maybe. I mean, it’s a pretty crazy thought, but after everything that just happened … I don’t know. It’s almost like it was trying to push us together.”

“Like fate or something?” You suggest, half-joking, but there’s a hint of curiosity in your voice.

“Yeah,” Oscar agrees, the word hanging in the air between you, heavy with meaning. “Like fate.”

Another silence falls, this one filled with unspoken possibilities. Then, slowly, Oscar reaches out, his fingers brushing yours. It’s a small gesture, tentative, but it sends a jolt of electricity through you.

“Maybe this is going to sound weird,” he says, his voice a little unsteady, “but I feel like I’ve been looking for something — or someone — for a long time. And today … I don’t know, it feels like maybe I found it.”

You swallow, your heart pounding in your chest. There’s something about the way he’s looking at you, like he’s seeing you — really seeing you — for the first time. And it makes you wonder if maybe he’s right. Maybe all of this wasn’t just random. Maybe the goose, as ridiculous as it sounds, was trying to show you both something that you wouldn’t have seen otherwise.

“I think maybe I have too,” you admit softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Oscar’s eyes light up at your words, and he squeezes your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a way that’s both comforting and intimate. The connection between you is undeniable, and for the first time all day, the world feels like it’s stopped spinning out of control.

“So what now?” You ask, a small smile playing on your lips.

“Well,” Oscar says, a grin spreading across his face, “how about we get out of here? Maybe go somewhere the goose can’t follow us.”

You laugh, nodding in agreement as you both stand up, brushing the grass from your clothes. “I like that idea.”

Oscar doesn’t let go of your hand as you start to walk away from the park, the warmth of his palm against yours sending a thrill through you. As you leave the park behind, you glance back over your shoulder one last time, half-expecting to see the goose watching you, but it’s nowhere to be seen.

Maybe it’s gone for good. Or maybe it’s just done what it needed to do — bringing you and Oscar together in the most bizarre, unexpected way imaginable.

“So,” you say as you walk side by side, your steps in sync, “where do we go from here?”

Oscar looks at you, his smile soft and genuine. “Wherever we want.”

And just like that, the world feels right again.

[logansdoll]

thank you

you never thought you'd be murdered in the middle of an alley... but you also never thought you'd be saved by a man with knives in his fists so... yeah.

CW: suggestive, profanity, the dude that attacks you is clinically insane, Logan's a little socially awkward, your power is kinda bad but kinda good, etc.

It was amazing how quick your day could go from fantastic, to an absolute, fucking shit storm.

Waking up that morning, as you went through your morning routine, something in the air just told you that everything was going to go right.

Your curls turned out perfect after your nightly twist, your makeup flawless, accentuating your natural beauty, and your breakfast sandwich tasted especially delicious.

That, along with the relatively quiet day at the hospital, left you leaving work with a certain pep in your step that made you feel like you could take on anything.

So not once did you plan to end up in the middle of a dark alleyway, and not once did you plan to stand off with a shady, seemingly dangerous, man because of it.

You were too lost in the music of your earphones to notice you had taken a wrong turn, a rookie mistake to make so late at night.

A mistake you were currently cursing yourself for.

"Look," you started, hands up and voice calm in an attempt to placate the irritated man. "I didn't mean to walk over here. I'm just trying to get home."

Slowly, he stalked closer, stance low and beady eyes staring at you in a way that made your stomach drop, and blood run cold.

'Shit.'

"Please... I don't want any trouble," you continued, taking a few steps back, "Just let me pass."

He tutted in response, wagging his finger as a sadistic grin slowly rose to his lips, "People who trespass on my territory gotta pay a toll, sweetheart," he licked his teeth, words slurring together, "and I can see you got more than enough..."

Shamelessly, his eyes dragged over your body, the surface of your skin erupting with a feel of grime and dirt.

You'd need a serious shower when you got home.

If you made it home...

As he drew closer, your hand discreetly slid into your jean jacket pocket, latching onto the cool, metal handle of your switchblade.

You were hoping to de-escalate the situation, but with the way things were looking, you knew you'd probably have to fight your way out.

"I'm only gonna ask one more time," you warned, your tone curt as your expression sharpened into a glare. "Let me go."

Without warning, he let out a manic shout, charging for you at full force.

You let out a shriek of surprise, quickly moving out the way before he could tackle you, whipping your blade out your pocket and flicking it open in one fluid motion.

Quickly, he turned around, expression furious as he ran again, hands out in an attempt to grab you.

And as you tried to dodge, he managed to latch onto the back of your scrub, roughly throwing you to the ground with a grunt.

"Fuck!" you spat, head throbbing as you attempted to sit up, your chest pounding as he grabbed your ankles and dragged you closer.

Fear struck your heart like a freight train, and in a bout of panic, you swung your knife, plunging it into the closest thing you could reach.

He let out a roar of pain, dropping your ankles as he nursed his injured foot, and the handle sticking out of it would've been funny were it not for the dire situation.

Quickly, you scrambled to your feet, stumbling towards your purse which laid on the ground not too far away.

But the man took notice, his foot becoming a thing of the past as he chased you again, scooping up a large shard of broken glass as he ran.

"Get away!" you cried, hugging your purse into your chest as his charge backed you into a corner, your legs giving out as you slid down the wall.

Horrible visions of your fate flashed through your mind as he approached, images of your lifeless body plastered on the nightly news, or your smiling picture on a missing persons poster.

What a fabulous time for your power to chime in...

You squeezed your eyes shut, bracing yourself for whatever was to come, when a loud shink and a pained grunt cut through the air.

Forcing your eyes back open, they landed on a figure, who stood over the dead body of your attacker.

The way the man laid, and the way he was injured, made it look as if he was mauled by some sort of animal.

'Holy shit...'

Pulling yourself back to reality, you realized the figure was now standing right in front of you.

He held his hand out for you to take, sharp, brown eyes flicking between you expectantly.

Finally having the chance to get a good look at him, you took in his appearance.

With his broad chest and strong jaw, you'd think he'd be on the cover of Sexy Bikers weekly, arms and legs thick with muscle under his leather jacket and blue jeans.

Your eyes met in an instant, an electric buzz shooting up your spine at his features.

From what you could see through the darkness, they were sharp, but strong and hard, handsome in their own rugged way.

His lips pulled taut in a line as he stared back, brows furrowing while his eyes flicked around you, almost like he was trying to gauge your reaction.

Slowly, you placed your hand in his allowing him to pull you up to your feet.

"Thank you," you exhaled, shoulders dropping as relief finally sank in your shoulders. "I don't know what I would've done if you didn't come when you did..."

His arms came back to his sides, tiredly, as he awkwardly cleared his throat.

As if he didn't expect you to actually talk to him...

"What're you doin' walkin' by yourself so late?" he asked, his voice a deep rumble. "You got a death wish?"

The sound ignited something in you, a sudden flood of warmth rushing to your stomach, your reply nearly dying in your throat.

"I just got off from work... I wasn't paying attention and turned the wrong corner," you explained, choppily, the embarrassment of your mistake setting in.

It was a stupid one.

Especially for someone who's mutation gave her the ability to see the future.

Or variations of it, at least.

"You got a way to get home?" he asked, resting a hand on his hips.

His arms flexed with the motion, his bicep straining against the jacket sleeve, your eyes drawn to it almost instantly.

You'd never seen a man as handsome as him before, and while you felt bad for gawking, you were more concerned by the flurry of feelings swirling in your chest.

"Cab," you blurted, snapping yourself out of it, "I can hail a cab."

He nodded, smoothly and, to your surprise, silently, stepping to the side and out of your way.

You were ready to head back toward the street, when you suddenly remembered something.

"My purse—" Jittery, the man nervously shoved it into your arms, averting his eyes from your thankful expression.

Your gorgeous, thankful expression.

God, he didn't understand what such a beautiful woman like you was doing in a place like this.

"I found it on the ground over there," he cleared his throat once again, shifting his weight on his feet, "I put your knife back in, too. You might wanna wash it—"

Without warning, you pulled him into a hug, nearly sending his heart into a frenzy.

He kept his hands up, quite confused and unsure of what to do, especially since your impossibly soft cheek was pressed against his chest.

"Thank you... really," you smiled, warmly, as you looked up at him.

God, he was handsome.

Though, you pushed that thought to the back of your mind.

"It was nothin'," he assured, awkwardly, as you backed out.

"I don't suppose I could learn your name, could I?" you asked, a small smile rising to your lips at his social graces.

It was adorable.

Someone so big and strong being so nervous.

Instantly, he tensed, completely taken aback by your bold comment.

Maybe he was imagining things, but he could've sworn your tone made it sound like you were flirting with—

"Logan," he blurted, stiffly.

You grinned, tucking a stray hair behind your ear, "(y/n)."

Slowly, you started toward the mouth of the alleyway, his eyes following you intently, "Well, Logan, I hope we meet again... Then I'll pay you back."

"Not necessary," he assured, shaking his head.

You paused your walk for a moment, turning to glance at him with a devilish glint in your eye.

"We meet again... I'll have something for you," you promised, crossing your fingers.

A shiver rolled down his spine at your words, and you continued on your merry way, exiting the alley and hailing a nearby cab.

Once he was sure you were gone, he let out a loud sigh, allowing his shoulders to sink and a tired hand to run through his hair.

You were something...

One conversation and he already knew you were going to be trouble, the smell of your perfume and the warmth of your smile already plaguing his mind.

He shook his head, taking a deep breath before turning to walk out the alley.

But just as he stepped forward, he felt something under his foot, lifting it to reveal a necklace.

You must've lost it in the melee...

Carefully, he picked it up off the ground, placing it in his pocket before walking out the backstreet.

The next time he saw you... he'd have something for you, too.

[impeakcharacterdesign]

Just the Tip

— Thomas Hewitt x Fem!Reader —

MDNI!!!

Summary: It’s the 1960s and Luda Mae frowns upon premarital sex like any good Christian woman. You and Tommy are young, hot, and in love but the only problem is that Tommy was raised to wait until marriage and never lets you two go any further than kissing and some groping.

But the devil lives in the hot Texan sun and even God takes a break from the summer heat.

Notes: this is super short, just pure smut, self indulgent I’m obsessed with big boy Tommy 😭😭😭 i swear I’m working on part 2 of my sister Sinclair fic but Tommy has me in a choke hold and I needed an outlet.

No TW that I can think of other than bad smut and maybe ??? Coercion??? Cause Tommy wants to be a good boy and stop before y’all go too far but you flash him and then he’s absolutely 100% in. A bit of religious stuff, period typical sexism but vaguely. Let me know if I should add anything else and I’ll get right on it. Reader isn’t ever referred to using “she/her” pronouns but is described as having breasts and does have female genitalia so I tagged it fem reader to be safe

Enjoy!!!

The early morning sun burned, chasing away what little cool air remained of the night before. While the barn shaded you from the unforgiving sun and hid you from disapproving eyes — or lecherous in the case of the older men of the family — it also trapped in the heat your two bodies gave off.

Thomas pressed his open mouth to your own, tongue swiping over your teeth eager to taste you. Your hands gripped his dark hair, ruining any half-effort attempt he had made earlier in the day to smooth down his unruly hair. He held you in his arms, body pressed tightly against him in an attempt to get as close as possible, his large frame hiding you even further from prying eyes than the shadowed corners of the old barn. The kiss was deep and hungry and served as a brief respite from Luda Maes ever watching eyes. While she had been fine with you living with the family before you and Tommy were married, she forbade you from sharing a room or being intimate, a rule she absolutely refused to budge on and one that Uncle Charlie took a strange glee in ribbing you about. But much like the Texan heat, the heated looks you gave each other were unavoidable and only grew hotter as the summer days went on. Luda Mae wanted to wait until the following spring to make your union official but at the rate the town was drying up, there wouldn't even be a priest to officiate the ceremony, much less any guest to attend. You highly doubted anyone outside of the family would want to witness your union anyway but still, Luda Mae didn't want the few who would to get wise and start counting months.

These stolen moments in the barn were as good as you could get — and by god were they good.

Tommy’s large hands groped at your breasts, pawing roughy at your nipples through the worn fabric of your old dress. It wasn’t long before you found yourself in the familiar position of being sprawled out on the barn floor, coarse hay a discomfort you had long learned to endure for the sake of pleasure.

You desperately thrust your sex up onto his growing bulge, whining when he groaned and pinned your hips with his own, preventing you from getting your desired stimulation. “Please Tommy,” you beg, lips separating, “We don’t have to do too much, I just wanna touch you.” You press open-mouthed kisses to his neck, pulling softly at the flesh with your teeth and tongue dragging across the bites to taste the salt on his skin. Your hands eagerly worked to untuck his faded green shirt and wrap around him, roaming the vast expanse of his back. His whole body shuddered in your arms, an attempt to hold back from eating you whole.

You know Thomas will put an end to your romp soon, the tense lines of his shoulders and the way he shuts his eyes a sign that he's reaching his limit, that if you two don't stop now you won't be able to stop — but that’s exactly what you want.

You're tired of holding back, of this constant edging you have to endure when you’re in his presence and it gets harder every day. Just yesterday afternoon, Uncle Charlie sprayed Tommy with the hose, telling him that he was filthy and needed to get out of those clothes before he went inside. Watching as he undressed by the back door so that you could put his clothes on the line to dry had nearly given you a heatstroke — and if Charlie’s leering grin was any clue, you swear he did it on purpose in an attempt to rile you up. You ran off before you sinned right there in the yard, the memory of Thomas's shirt clinging to his arms, his chest glistening with water had kept you company well into the night.

So before Tommy puts a stop to your roll in the hay you make your move. You lift your dress up past your breast and expose yourself to him, you can see his breath stutter in his chest, this was quickly becoming the farthest you two had ever gone.

“Just watch me, Tommy, watch me,” you say breathlessly.

And he does, he sits on his haunches like a predator, his engorged cock straining against his pants and imagining just a taste has your tongue darting out to wet your lips, his gaze fixated on the movement.

Sliding your panties off your legs, your fingers dip briefly into your wet hole, gathering slick to rub onto your clit. At the very first touch, you let out a shuddering breath and you watch as his shoulders heave.

You begin rubbing your clit at an intense pace already turned on from the earlier heavy petting, not once breaking eye contact with Thomas as you do. With each moan you muffle you see his eyes grow darker with desire breathing with his mouth open as though he could taste your scent in the air. When he finally lets his cock spring free you let out your loudest moan yet. It’s better than you ever thought. His cock is thick and heavy, drooping slightly under its own weight but still undeniably firm. It curves slightly and you imagine that if it was inside you it would scrape against your walls in a way you've never been able to do with just your fingers.

Thomas grips his cock firmly and gives it a few tugs, eyes alternating between hungrily drinking in the sight of your blissed-out expression and your dripping pussy. You buck your hips, desperate to press your clit against your fingers and Thomas jerks his length even faster, rubbing his tip and spreading his precum on his hand.

God, you wished it was you that was touching him.

Thomas settles onto his knees and after a brief hesitation begins to shuffle closer to you. The sight of him crawling to you on his knees with his dripping length in hand made your pussy clench around nothing and you let out a whimper. You remove your fingers from your clit, feeling the heat radiating from his cock as he settles on top of you, legs spreading around his waist, your hips slightly raised and resting on his thighs.

The tip hesitantly pressed against your clit and your moan fills the small space before you can suppress it. This was better than you were hoping and it felt as though you were pressing against the boundaries the lord had set for you. Tommy’s eyes find yours looking for reassurance, asking without words, “Do you think this is okay?”

You find enough comprehension in your lust-addled brain to come up with a coherent answer, “It should be fine, I think,” you stammer out, “I mean, it’s not like — not like you’re putting it in so, it should be fine.”

You’re not overly familiar with the word of God outside of Sunday services and Luda Mae’s lectures, both of which you were forced to attend and spent tuning out in favor of watching the sweat build on Tommy’s brow while he worked through the window.

You think that if God could feel the weight of Thomas like you did, feel the heat like you could, you think he’d forgive the sin of your act.

It seems like that was all the reassurance that Thomas needed because no sooner than the words fumbled their way out of your mouth that he begins to drag the length of his cock against your slit.

God, if this is what hell was supposed to be like, burning and full of decadence, then perhaps you didn’t mind being a sinner.

The way he ruts against you is euphoric. Heavy breaths escape you both and you can’t help the words that spill from your lips.

“God, Tommy, I wish you would put it inside me,” you whine out “‘wanna feel your fat cock in my pussy, wanna get filled,” you might as well be begging at this point, and Tommy's increases his pace to the point that you think he wants the same thing, that he’s desperate to thrust into you rather than against you and —

And then the tip of his cock catches on your entrance and you both stop breathing.

“Maybe — Maybe it doesn’t count.” You stammer out, “It didn’t go in and it’s just the tip, and I don’t think that the tip counts” With the slightest twitch of his hips the tip of his cock has slipped inside.

"It's - it's just the tip it's fine” Your words sound empty even to you but the reassurance is all Tommy needs to push forward and let the head of his cock slide into your welcoming heat

His soul nearly leaves his body when he feels your raw pussy on the head of his cock. He jerks his length furiously and your fingers begin to move against your clit again, eager to meet your high with Thomas.

But it’s not enough. He was right there, right there just one push of his hips he’d be right where you needed him

“Please Tommy” Canting your hips slightly so the tip begins to dig deeper into you, you begin to plead once more, “wanna feel you fill me up, wanna remember the shape of your cock please”

Thomas feels years of control break at your words and with one swing of his hips, he bottoms out instantly. You feel like you've been punched in the gut as the air rushes out of you and you let out a sound like a wounded animal. Tommy stays still deep inside you, shaking and heaving, absolutely drunk on the feeling of your soaked walls clenching vigorously around his length.

You feel full in a way you've never thought possible. His length throbs, its girth stretching you in a way that burns.

When he finally starts thrusting, you’re not ready. He’s like a man possessed, solely focused on the feel of you around him, your skin pressed against his, his blood pounding in his ears.

“Wait— Tommy, ah, slow — slow down, oh god!” You can’t hold back your moans and he can’t stop, both fully engrossed in the feel of each other with no control over your own lust. Thomas crashes his lips onto yours in a halfhearted attempt to keep down your moans, it’s sloppy, clashing teeth and drooling tongues, spit escaping your lips, unlike any you’ve shared before.

This is completely different from what you’ve imagined your first time together would be like. It’s not your wedding night, you're laying on the dirty barn floor and there’s absolutely nothing gentle about the way Tommy is ravaging you. Your pussy is sopping wet and with every thrust, it lets out an embarrassing squelch, your juices and Tommy’s pre-cum leak down your ass and make a sticky mess in his dark pubes.

He doesn’t stop even as your walls spasm around him, cumming on his cock and digging your nails into his strong back. He works you through your orgasm even as your mouth clumsily forms the words to beg for him to slow down or to give you a moment. It’s too much, the sensations completely overloading your brain and all you can do is hold on tightly to him, lost in the ecstasy of your release.

Thomas lets out a deep, guttural groan as he cums, hips stuttering as he bullies his fat cock into the deepest part of your sex, filling you to the brim and your vision goes white.

Boneless, neither one of you makes a move to separate from the other, so thoroughly satisfied and content to lie where you are holding each other, Thomas’s softening cocking slipping out of you and spilling his release onto the ground.

His weight on you is comforting, you gently press kisses to his face and bask in the way his heavy breaths caress your sweaty skin.

“I love you.” You whisper into the shell of his ear and he squeezes you against him, repeating the words in his garbled voice the best he could. Your love is just for the two of you, no one else had a place in your world, no one else had the right to peak in on your affection or gawk at your differences.

This moment in time was just for the two of you.

“Thomas! Where the hell are ya, boy!”

Well, until Uncle Charlie’s voice brought you back down to reality.

[luvtak]

fade into you, lmh x reader

genre/tw est. relationship! suggestive, pure sugar cane fluff (like high fructose corn syrup fluff), minho only knows how to talk with his hands </3, gn!reader!! minho calls you kitty and honey <3!! seriously cavity inducing fluff be warned !! mostly unedited…

w/c 848

omg i haven’t posted a fic in so long nor have i written anything in months :(( but i’m finally a lot more settled after a busy drama filled couple of months! I hope you love this fic as much as i loved writing it. I’m not kidding when i say i wrote this in an hour on my phones notes app, don’t be afraid to tell me how you feel hehe 🩵

It’s cold outside your sleeping bag, frigid morning fog seeping into the once cozy tent. You shiver at Minho’s nose pressing into your neck, his face as cold as a dog who’s been outside too long. 

You’re not sure why you let your boyfriend convince you to camp in the middle of autumn… less sure why he insisted it was just the two of you, but you could never refuse Minho when he asked you so nicely— hands easing sighs while his mouth asked the question; the only thing you could say was yes, over and over. 

Unfortunately, the ecstasy of being asked was not akin to the actual experience.

Insistent rain stormed down from the second you arrived to the last minute before your eyes closed, Minho in all his excitement forgot the cooler and was forced to drive all the way back—leaving you to shiver in the tent alone. No, it was not the romantic getaway your boyfriend promised, but being here now—warm despite the wilderness’s wishes—you think it could be.

“Are you still cold, honey?” Minho asks, his voice just a whisper amongst the whistling trees. 

With your eyes still closed, you can only imagine what he looks like… Soft with sleep, his eyelashes cascading shadows across the slopes of his skin, beautiful like hypnos after creating dreams. You can feel his breath against your neck and his hands clutching at your waist, so safe despite how strong he is. 

“No, min, I’m just right” you say, and you can feel his laugh, rumbling through him, feel his smile against your skin. 

You wish he knew how much you cherish him… how much you treasure these little moments with him. How you’ll think about this moment every time he’s away from you; rolling the memory around your tongue like it’s a piece of candy. 

Sometimes, you’re sure you can see a cord running from you to him, wrapping around the two of you like cling wrap—like every moment you’ve ever had was crafted by the fates, your story weaved by the gods themselves. 

“Just right huh?” he says, before he’s lifting his head to look at you, eyes open and beautiful. “Well goldilocks, look how pretty you are this morning.” His smile is mischievous and if you didn’t know better you may think he was joking, but his tone gives him away: too quiet to be anything but the truth. 

“Minho!” you cry, embarrassed by compliments this early, “lay back down, I need you to keep me warm.” He smiles down at you, knowing you well enough to see that you’re flustered, it’s always too easy; one compliment, and your skin is hot, his kiss lasts a second too long and you’re pulling away shaking. 

Minho doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of making your blood rush, enjoying the chase even when he has you. 

When his skin gets closer to yours again, chest to chest/heart to heart, you find yourself breathing his air like you share one pair of lungs. He’s so close to you, searing your skin even as the sleeping bag pulls awkwardly around your legs, letting cool air settle around your figure. 

His lips are so close to yours, one breath away from a kiss, so close you can feel his words flow into your open mouth. 

“Are you warm now, kitty?”  he asks, his eyes boring into yours before flitting down to look at your skin; miles and miles of it under his hands, valleys of skin that are his as much as yours.

“I’m warm, Minho, are you?” Just a whisper.

“just right.” A smirk. 

One breath, two breaths, three, and then he’s kissing you. Lips urging gasps to flow out of you, hands grasping at his tension filled spine. You’ve shared many kisses, sweet and sultry, frantic and lust filled, but something about this hunger is foreign to you. 

His kiss is filled with wanting yes, but it’s almost like he’s trying to tell you something but forgot the words. His hands on your thighs urging you to listen, please please please understand, they say, clutching at the muscle like he’s afraid you’ll never know. 

But you do, and so do your lips and your hands and you try your hardest to speak his language; responding to every bite with a nip of your own, gasping when his hands ask, kissing away the sleep still in his eyes. You know what he’s saying, I love you, I’m sorry you’re cold, I’m sorry I made you come on this rain coated trip, I love you I'm sorry, I love you I love you.” 

Your boy, always so embarrassed to tell you how he feels, but never afraid to show you. 

When you pull apart, hands locked together still, eyes gleaming with an inside joke, a shared confession; you can see he wants to say something, see he’s trying to build the courage to split his heart open. Instead he flits his eyes up to the sky and smiles. 

Look honey, the suns coming out” 

And you understand. 

© LUVTAK 2024

[tojisun]

simon (ghost) riley x fem reader

!! suggestive-ish; hinted age difference (20s vs 30s); hinted d/s; minors dni

“why won’t you fuck me?”

your pitiful voice stops simon from moving, his feet stuttering with muted thuds. he breathes in sharply, not having expected the words that slipped from your lips, before he turns and tips his head towards you.

you’re trembling, and simon doesn’t know if it’s because of the cool air or the intensity of your emotions, those that urged you to whine at his pathetic display of restraint, but still he hesitates. afraid that if he comes close, then the remnant of his patience will finally snap.

because it’s not that simon wouldn’t fuck you – god knows there’s nothing more he’d want to do than love you slowly and deeply, caressing you tenderly until you are trembling at the intensity of his passion; until the doubts are finally crushed by the force of his affections – but it’s that he knew you deserve someone better.

someone who wouldn’t leave you for months and years long because of a mission. someone who’d stay by your side each and every hour because he knows you (sometimes he wished he didn’t, if only to make it easier to forget about you), and he knows that you need someone to spoil you. to pamper you.

simon knows you deserve more than the world, knows that he can only give you pieces of it but he’s selfish. he’s a monster wearing a human suit – incapable of surrendering, incapable of giving you up.

because simon knows you deserve better but gods he doesn’t want to let you go.

he moves to speak but you beat him to it, your lips wobbling as tears trickle down the corners of your eyes like molten diamonds. “you parade me around like a trophy wife but you won’t even give me a portion of that attention. you-”

his heart stops at the choked sob that gets stuck in the base of your throat, your face crumpling as you tremble at the intensity of your heartache.

it was instant how he moved to you, his frantic steps echoing against the cobblestone. he takes you in his arms, tucking your head underneath his chin and engulfing you in his embrace, hoping that you’d hear the staccato of his heart and know that it only ever beats for you.

you whine like you couldn’t decide if you want his comfort or not and simon freezes, afraid that he’s just heightened your bleeding heart. he moves to step away, his lips parting for an apology, but you clutch at the ends of his shirt, refusing to let go.

he follows your silent command – simon will follow you no matter where, no matter what – and presses you close again, his warmth mixing with yours and chasing away the goosebumps that littered your skin.

he kisses the top of your head, breathing you in. simon mulls over what to say, his own hesitation bursting at the corners of his mind, but he wants to stop pretending. he wants to stop lying to himself.

you love him and he loves you – sometimes, it could be that easy.

words aren’t his strongest suits but he tries anyway. “i love you,” he begins, the words slipping past his teeth with the simplicity of the truth. “i burn with the desire to be with you, sweet girl. but not this way. not yet.”

you tip your head up just enough to catch his gaze and simon croons at your swollen eyes, pressing gentle kisses on your eyebrows in comfort.

“why not?” you ask, ever so stubborn.

“because there are preparations that need to be done,” he replies, humming when your eyes widen in surprise. “i want to make love with you, sweetheart. not just make it as something fast and temporary.”

he watches you breathe in shakily.

“would you want that?” simon continues amidst your silence, his hand coming up to tuck a stray strand of your hair behind your ear.

you bite your bottom lip and nod. he clicks his tongue. “use y’r words. i need to hear it from you.”

“yes please,” you whisper, and simon coos at the broken rumble of your voice, still heavy with doubt. “i- yes. please, simon. i’d love that.”

“me too, sweet girl.” simon kisses your forehead, sealing the promise. “i’d love nothing more.”

[cherrixpie]

HOW NOT TO DATE A SLYTHERIN

part four of five

↬ being harry potter's sister wouldn't make dating theodore nott any easier - which was why you tried to hide it. only, you could only lie to your brother for so long...

↬ sfw; fluff & angst; wc: 5.4k; cw: suggestive, partial nudity; secret relationship trope, potter!reader, griffindor! reader

The castle was alive with anticipation, the crisp morning air buzzing with excitement of match day. The first quidditch match of the season, Griffindor versus Slytherin, was to take part today. After breakfast, you would join your team on the pitch and -hopefully- win the game. The first game of the season had always been the most nerve wracking to you, but with the new layer of excitement of playing against your secret boyfriend, you were vibrating with anticipation.

As you made your way towards the Great Hall, the sound of distant cheers and chants already echoed from the grounds outside, early fans eager to secure the best seats. Griffindor red and Slytherin green clashed in waves of color as students of either house swarmed towards breakfast. Though you didn't stick out in your quidditch attire that was as scarlet red as the hats, capes and scarfs of the Griffindor fans, the people who noticed you wished you good luck for the match.

Rounding the corner near the staircase, you nearly collided with Theo, who was casually leaning against the stone wall, his broom slung over his shoulder and his emerald scarf lazily wrapped around his neck. You knew he had been waiting for you when your eyes met. After last night, you had been worried your argument would result in a permanent rift between you, but his eyes lit up when they locked with yours.

“Well well,” he drawled, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “If it isn't Gryffindor’s star chaser. Shouldn't you be off practicing some last-minute heroics?”

You pretended to be annoyed rather than filled to the brim with adoration and rolled your eyes, but you couldn't help the small smile that crept onto your face. “Funny. I was just about to ask if Slytherin had finally resorted to bribing Madam Hooch. Seems like the only way you’d stand a chance today.”

Glancing around the deserted booth under the staircase, Theo pushed himself off the wall and strode slowly towards you. You uncrossed your arms to take his hand, and there you stood, brooms in one hand, holding onto each other with the second. Finally, the subtle smile reached Theo’s eyes as he played with your fingers. “You’ll be great today.”

“You too,” you smiled with exhilaration and took a step closer. Your eyes darted around the small space nervously, but there was no one to see you. So you stood on your tip toes and pecked Theo’s lips softly. What you hadn't anticipated was Theo jolting and surging at you, chasing your retreating lips until he had them locked in a soft caress of his own. A surprised moan escaped you and Theo chuckled softly into your mouth. One hand held your jaw still as he kissed you senseless, the other trailed down to toy with the hem of your jersey.

Kisses with Theo were always a careful mix of fervent passion on your part and disciplined control on his. It was no different now, as Theo lead the kiss, caressing all the right places, balancing that perfect combination of tender and dominating. You fisted your hands in his shirt and pulled him impossibly closer. Suddenly, a cool hand closed around both your wrists, yanking them away and over your hand, making you stumble as your back hit the wall. One of Theo’s hand held your wrists in place over your hand, the other lifted your chin to gain access to your neck.

“Tesoro,” he sighed against your skin, “let me give you a good luck token for the match.” You knew what he meant, and your suspicions were only confirmed when you saw the hungry look in his eyes. You twitched under his heavy gaze and his eyes grew impossibly darker. “Theo… no one can see.”

When he used his index finger to draw a line down your throat towards your collar bone, he left a row of goosebumps in its wake that he took in with great satisfaction. The soft material of your quidditch uniform gave in to his pull as he exposed part of your cleavage. “They won't,” he promised in an impossibly soft voice. “I’ll do it where nobody can see.”

You could barely hear your whispered “okay” over the thundering of your heart beat. The fear of being caught paired with the thrill of anticipation and his dark, hungry eyes culminated in the uncontrollable beating of your heart against your ribcage, as if it wanted to escape from your body, to seek shelter in the meticulous hands of your lover.

Theo dipped his head down to the exposed skin of your cleavage and left a trail of pecks before he found a suitable spot. Biting down on it, he relished in the little gasp it elicited from you. As Theo worked diligently on perfecting the mark, you slipped your hands from his grip and buried them in his dark locks. In response, Theo let out a small groan and lifted his head, tugging up your jersey with a satisfied little smirk. “Now you’re ready.”

During breakfast at the Griffindor table, you kept tugging at your jersey to a point when Hermoine asked wether you were okay. You stocked it up to performance anxiety. When Harry, Ron, Ginny and you left for the quidditch pitch, several people all over the table patted you on the shoulders. Their shouted wishes of luck followed you all the way out of the Great Hall and down the grounds toward the stadium, where you were joined by the rest of the team.

Harry didn't bother with much of a speech, but after yesterday’s brawl, he seemed determined to wipe the smirk off of Malfoy’s face. A notion you couldn't object to. After revising your strategy, the team stepped out onto the pitch, where the Slytherins and Madam Hooch were already waiting. The hollers and booing of a green and red mass of people drowned out any other noise, like the splatter of rain.

The snowfall of the day before had been replaced by a thick rain that made it almost impossible to see farther than a few feet. Not very favorable conditions. You could barely make out Theo within the midst of the Slytherin players. Harry and Malfoy shook hands with particulars nasty scowls on their faces, before you all mounted your brooms and shot up into the rainy mist above. Madam Hooch released the quaffel, Ginny got a hold of it and the game was on.

It was almost impossible to differentiate between friend and foe when your vision was clouded by rain and mist. Your only reconciliation was that the Slytherins weren't any better off than you. It took at least ten minutes for the first goal by Slytherin that had only succeeded because an exasperated Theo had given up on the attempt to pass the Quaffel around as it would be inevitably lost to the mist or a Griffindor player, and did a lucky solo run, completely catching Ron off guard.

After some more failed attempts from both sides, Ginny finally managed to goal for Griffindor. You as well, a few minutes later, because one of Slytherin’s beaters flew into you full force, vision obstructed by the downpour, and Madam Hooch granted a free kick to you. But soon after that, Slytherin had the lead once more. As the game went on, it became increasingly hard to keep track of the score. Though you were pretty sure your team had earned sixty points, you had no idea how many goals Slytherin had. By now you were shaking and clattering your teeth and your hands felt frozen to your broom. If Harry didn't catch the snitch soon, you’d get frostbite.

Nobody flew in formation or followed strategy anymore. When Theo flew past you with the Quaffel, quickly approaching the rings, you took up the chase. You had lost sight of your third chaser for a while now, but you managed to attract Ginny’s attention, who followed you hot on your heels. Seeking cover, you let yourself drop to a few feet under Theo but did not lessen your speed. Waiting until he was only a short distance away from the rings and raised his hand with the Quaffel to dunk it into one of them, you made a sharp turn upwards.

It was risky, but you played on his protective instincts. Theo sensed an approaching figure and lowered his arm. You, on the other hand, shot towards him perpendicularly and caught him off guard. To avoid a collision which he -other than you- would have been able to pull through, Theo turned his broom in a rapid motion. Ginny used the opportunity to knock the Quaffel out of his hands. You caught it, locking eyes with a startled Theo for a split second, and the two of you set off in the direction of the Slytherin rings.

Steering your broom through green and red flashes, you accelerated your speed. Wherever your beaters were, they were doing a fantastic job, as you and Ginny passed through the Slytherins without any bludgers knocking you off your brooms, passing the Quaffel back and forth. When the rings came into sight, you took the lead, shielded your face against the rain to aim and threw the ball. It hit. But another thing hit, too.

WHAM

A sudden pain shot through your body and your hands slipped off your broom. It was so horrible you must have screamed, but your head and senses were numb and unresponsive. You were vaguely aware that the pain originated from your stomach region. That was all, before your body failed you and you could feel yourself falling into darkness.

“Open your eyes, idiota!”

You snapped your eyes open and the first thing you saw was Theo, hovering over you. Just then, you realized he was holding you in his arms and kneeling on the ground of the quidditch pitch. It could have only been a few seconds you blacked out, but judging by the stings and aching all over your body, as well as the fact you were lying beside the stands, you had knocked into the wooden wall of the stands in your fall, where he must’ve caught you. Oh crap. Theo had caught you.

“Get off!” you hushed, scrambling back to your feet even as pain shot through your body at the slightest movement. A particularly nasty ache made you stumble and Theo caught you once more, frowning at you. “Where does it hurt? Where did it hit you?” Oh, right. It must've been a bludger at last. “Can you hear me?” Theo asked and you registered the worry laced into every syllable. Raw, unconcealed fear.

“Y-yeah,” you gritted through clenched teeth and clawed at your side where the bludger had made its impact. It must've been shot from short distance, because rarely had a bludger hit hurt this bad. “Midriff, left side.”

When his hand brushed over the hurting spot, you let out a whimper of agony and Theo quickly retracted it. If it hadn't been for the pain clouding your mind, you’d have teased him for his visible distress. “Where's my broom?” you choked out and Theo looked at you incredulously. “You’re going to Madam Pomphrey, Tesoro. Now.”

“What?” you exclaimed, vaguely aware of voices approaching. You didn't have much time. “No, Theo, I need to play! One of my chasers has taken off, you’ll win! Wait, is that why you’re-”

“Cazzo , Tesoro,” Theo cursed, sending wary glances to the side. “I don't care about winning, I’ll throw the match with you if that's what it takes.”

Suddenly, a familiar voice shouted your name and Theo’s face hardened as Hermoine reached you, looking concerned and rather disheveled. “Are you okay? Madam Pomphrey is on the way.” Obviously under the impression that Theo was harassing you, she gave him a sinister scowl. “What are you doing here, Nott?”

Theo, who’d settled for a mask of indifference once more, let out a mere “tch”, set you down on the grass with a suspicious precariousness, and reached for his broom when-

“HARRY POTTER HAS CAUGHT THE SNITCH!” the commentator roared and you breathed out a sigh of relief. About time. “GRIFFINDOR WINS!” announced the speakers and even through the slashing and splashing of the rainfall, your ears were thrumming at the hollers and shouts from the Griffindors.

Though you couldn't see them approaching, soft thuds announced the arrival of your teammates around you. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched Theo walk over to his team where he ran into a furious Malfoy, gesticulating heatedly. “Are you okay?” Ginny asked as she and Harry kneeled down to your level. “That damn bludger,” Harry cursed, still holding the snitch. “That Slytherin beater hit you from a few feet distance, Madam Hooch should’ve given him a reprimand!”

“I’m okay,” you assured them and stood up shakily. Hermoine helped you support your weight. “Great job,” you told your brother, ruffling his unruly hair. “I was beginning to think we’d send an imposter in your place.” Even Harry laughed, though he still looked very disconcerted. “What was that guy Nott doing? Did he hex you?”

Oh, most certainly, yes.

“He caught me,” you said in a neutral voice, as if the mere mention of his name didn't have your stomach do cartwheels. Sceptical expressions surrounded you, but they all shrugged it off- all except Ginny. “I’d have gone after you,” she explained apologetically, “But Nott was shooting down like damn lightning and I didn't want to get in the way of that.”

“Weird guy,” you said in an effort to diffuse Hermoine's suspicious look. Harry stepped forward to support your weight, but you let go of Hermoine to demonstrate your walking ability. “I’m fine, I’m okay, just a little bruised up.”

Indeed, none of the others seemed very eager to concentrate on your injuries. Everyone was in the mood for celebration as they changed out of their quidditch robes, already planning the winners party. As they walked out one after the other, you volunteered for cleaning duties, an unpopular job, especially after a won match. “I’ll be there in ten,” you shouted after your brother and Ron leaving for the castle and shut the door.

With a pained groan, you sat down on one of the benches. You hadn't even changed yet, in fear of what you would find on your stomach. Earlier, Madam Pomphrey had cleared you while muttering about the dangers of Quidditch. She had recommended murtlap essence, and you checked the medical closet for it. You found a bottle of the potion and set it down on the bench. The sound of the pouring rain still pelting the roof of the changing room filled the quiet hair as you reached for the hem of your jersey, wincing as your shoulder protested the movement. You thought you were alone- until a quiet knock on the doorframe behind you made you freeze.

“Do you always take this long after a match, or are you just stalling?”

Theo's voice was low, but it carried a certain edge that hindered the casual tone. As you tugged your jersey down in a haste, you spun around to see him leaning against the doorframe. His hair was still damp from the rain, the dark locks were clinging to his forehead. The faintests of smiles tugged at his lips, but it was a little grim, matching the somber look in his eyes. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay,” you repeated the words you’d been echoing for the last half hour. You hoped a convincing smile would ease his nerves, but his gaze only sharpened when your casual shrug made you wince. “Don't lie to me, tesoro,” Theo said softly, drawing closer to you. He came to a halt and you frowned at the pained look in his eyes. “Bell is a maledetto coglione, Voleva ucciderti? Non hai idea di quanto desiderassi farlo cadere dalla scopa!”

Theo seemed to talk himself into a rage, rambling on in Italian as his careful hands brushed over your chin down your arms, inspecting your bruises and cuts. You wouldn't deny that you loved to hear him talk Italian, especially when his quiet voice was brimming with controlled fury. Fiddling with the hem of your jersey, you searched for his eyes but he didn't meet yours. “Theo?” you asked, locking your fingers so he would stop with his inspection. “Don't put Bell in the hospital wing again, yeah?”

Theo glared at you and freed his hand to guide you down onto the bench. “Take off your shirt.” Even though it was a purely practical request, you felt a surge of excitement and nervousness. You froze for a second, then held onto the hem of your jersey and attempted to pull it over your head, but flinched at the pain. Theo helped you, carefully prying it off of you.

Theo’s hands froze the moment the jersey slipped over your head, leaving your skin bare save for the bruises blooming across your ribs and shoulders. His usual sharp retorts or smirking comments were conspicuously absent as his eyes lingered, first on the angry purple marks and then, almost hesitantly, on the soft curve of your body.

He swallowed hard, his fingers brushing your arm lightly as if unsure where to look or how to act. “You’re… very hurt,” he murmured finally, his voice quieter than you’d ever heard it, but there was a flicker of something else -something unspoken- flickering in his gaze before he quickly turned his attention back to the task at hand. He reached for the murtlap serum, grabbing the air at first attempt before pulling himself together and seizing the bottle and a cloth.

No words were exchanged as he started tending to your bruises, first the large one on your midriff that was the color of an angry red. When his soft fingers, dapped in murtlap essence, touched your skin, you took a sharp inhale and breathed rapidly. Theo could have smothered himself for the lingering of his eyes on your chest. He attempted to keep his focus on you and started treating the bruise.

You felt the relief of pain in an instant and sighed. “Thanks, Theo.” A light grunt was all you got in response, but the tender care of his fingers was answer enough. Though the murtlap was cool, his his touch left you uncomfortably warm and you tried not to squirm under his deft fingers.

The topic of intimacy was still a shy topic in your relationship. You knew his prior liaisons had been primarily sexual. Thus, you avoided the topic, seeing as your experience was almost none next to his. In any of your relationships, you had never gone beyond kissing and making out, and didn't know wether Theo even knew you were a virgin, let alone wether he’d want to have sex with you after hearing it. Theo had never initiated anything either, seeming perfectly content with your relationship as it was. But you couldn't deny the occasional hunger, the daydreams, the not so innocent thoughts.

Theo’s voice caught your attention. His brows were furrowed as he worked on your scratches from the fall. “Should’ve kept looking out for bludgers, cara. Stupid gryffindor recklessness.” When you recognized the worry in his voice, you smiled and ran a hand through his damp hair. “I’ll make sure to do that.” He seemed content and locked your fingers. “Shirt goes on again, tesoro.”

The itching when you pulled your shirt over your head was nothing compared to the pain from before. As your eyes appeared over your collar once more, you saw Theo had stood up and was putting the murtlap essence back to its place of origin with a lot more fuzz than the task required. Maybe it was just your imagination playing tricks on you, but he seemed to avert his eyes and avoided to look at you.

Before you could contemplate this, Theo had turned around once more and handed you your cloak. “We should get back to our teams before our absence is noticed.” You would have liked to say something to diffuse the light hint of bitterness in his voice, but Theo gave you a calming smile and was out of the door in an instant. Still, the rain brewed up a symphony on the roof of the changing rooms, but your own thoughts sounded too loud for you to notice.

The Gryffindor common room was a cacophony of sound and color, the flickering firelight mingling with enchanted banners that decked the walls in red and gold. Laughter and cheers echoed from every corner, the victorious chants of your teammates nearly drowning out the music. The smell of butterbeer wafted through the room, mixing with the damp, earthy scent of post-match rain that still clung to everyone’s robes.

You smiled faintly as Seamus led an exaggerated reenactment of the game on a table, nearly knocking over a platter of snacks, but the sheer noise of it all pressed against your temples, leaving you torn between wanting to join the celebration and retreating to somewhere quiet. When Seamus started pulling out fireworks, you slipped out of the room through the portrait hole for a quick withdrawal.

Knowing that some of the others, including your friends, had sneaked down to the kitchens to supply the party with more butterbeer and snacks, you took the path down to the dungeons. Though you tread lightly to avoid detection by Filch or Mrs Norris, the sound of your footsteps echoed of the walls as you hurried down the stairs. It was wonderfully quiet, a stark contrast to the hustle and bustle of the Griffindor common room, and you relished in the fresh, cool air that turned more moist the deeper you went.

Just as you were about to turn around a corner, you collided with a hard chest. Your prior speed made you stumble and you fell, closing your eyes and shielding yourself for the impact. It didn't come. Opening your eyes, your were met with the infamous raised eyebrow of Theodore Nott, hovering only inches above you. You could be slapped yourself for the breathless “Hi” that escaped you, but it made his lips curl with cold amusement. “Hello, tesoro, where are you off to in such a haste?”

“Kitchens,” you said sheepishly as he pulled you back up and steadied you on your feet. Theo threw a quick glance around the corridor before he slipped his hands into his pockets and switched to a more relaxed stand. Under his heavy gaze, you played with your fingers, trying not to think about the way he had been looking at you in the changing rooms “I forgot to tell you before, you played good,” Theo complimented you softly.

“Thanks,” you smiled. It was a weird situation. Usually, the two of you only talked like this in secret corridors, abandoned classrooms, locked broom cupboards or the astronomy tower, not out in the open. But it was night, and you supposed it was fine. And even if… You had been contemplating it ever since your argument yesterday. Would it be the end of the world if you just talked to Harry and the others about it? Even if they disapproved, you didn't want Theo to feel like an accessory, and sneaking around was not as fun as you thought.

Theo seemed to sense your thoughts had wandered off elsewhere and stepped towards you until your chests almost touched. When he flicked your forehead, you flinched and swatted his hand away. “Hey!”

“What are you thinking about?” Theo asked in a soft but demanding tone. You sighed. “Nothing.” But Theo was not thrown off the scent so easily. Deliberate hands wandered to your hips as he prepared for the attack, but you were faster. You gripped the collar of his shirt, pulled him down by it and kissed him.

The reaction was immediate. You were pulled flush against his body, his hands roamed under your shirt to your bare back making you shudder. “Jeez, Nott, your hands are ice cold,” you mumbled between kisses, but Theo pushed you back against the wall and seized your lips, swallowing every sound, every whimper that fell from them eagerly. You noticed that he avoided your bruised spots as his hands trailed over your bare skin and couldn't help the rush of affection that surged through you at his care.

“Someone could see us,” Theo muttered into the kiss, but you merely whimpered needily and buried your hands in his soft curls. “Then they see us.” The answer seemed to spur him on. It was as if it had awakened some primal part of him, tucked away behind his usual composure. The kiss turned messy as your lips clashed into each other without the usual rhyme and reason. When your eyes met his for a split second, you saw the dark hunger swirling inside them and breathed in shakily. It only seemed to spur him on even more as his head dipped back down and you felt his thigh coming up between your legs, eliciting a pathetic little whimper from you.

“What the bloody hell is going on here?”

Theo and you surged apart, or rather, you scrambled away and he made sure you didn't trip and fall in your haste to put some space between the two of you. Harry, Ron and Hermoine, as well as some other embarrassed looking griffindors, stood a few feet away from you, having just rounded the corner. Their arms were full of pastries, snacks and bottles of butterbeer and lemonade, safe for Harry's, who seemed to have dropped his load at the sight of you and Theo.

“What's it look like I'm doing?” you asked, chest heaving and hair probably a mess. Glancing at Theo, you saw he had leaned against the wall, watching Harry with sharp eyes. The message was clear. He left it up to you to resolve this, but the second Harry stepped over the line, he was a goner.

Your brother shook his head wildly, as if he couldn't believe what was happening and planned to shake the image out of his memory. He called your name incensedly. “Tell me I didn't just see you snogging Theodore Nott in the dungeons.”

With a quick glance at Theo, you decided it was all in. “Would you rather have me snog him in the astronomy tower?” you asked, a hint of sass creeping into your tone. “Because that's what I've been doing for the last months.” Ron and Hermoine looked at each other incredulously, but Harry looked straight up furious as he kicked the pastries aside to step closer to you. When you saw the look in his eyes and caught Theo's slight movement in the corner of your eye, you suddenly began to worry about an altercation between the two. An altercation that, with all your love for him, Harry had no chances of winning.

Harry had caught Theo’s movement as well and turned to him abruptly. “If you think I’m going to stand by and let this happen, you’ve got another thing coming.” You could've kissed Theo for remaining where he stood without blinking, leaving it up to you to resolve this. “Look, Harry,” you tried the diplomatical route. “Would you just listen to m-”

“Do you even know who he is? What he stands for?” Harry cut you off. You were hit with the sudden realization that the footsteps of multiple people were drawing closer, and indeed, a group of Slytherins that had been awoken by the sudden noise appeared in the hallway next to you, watching the conflict with great interest. “I know perfectly well-” you tried to answer but again, Harry didn't let you finish. “His father is a death eater! What, does that excite you?”

“Excuse me?” you hissed and saw Theo shift slightly. “Are you even listening to yourself right now, Harry?” But he probably wasn't. Your brother looked just about ready to tear down walls and you began to doubt wether you could even reason with him about this. “That's a horrible thing to say,” you shot back, folding your arms over your chest. “And Theo’s not his father.”

“Theo? Oh yes?” Harry said angrily, ignoring Hermoine tugging at his robes in an effort to calm him down. “He's just as bad as the rest of them, I don't know how you could be this naive!”

“Is it impossible for you to even entertain the possibility that I can look out for myself?” You hadn't realized you were shouting now as well. “Would you, just for one second, consider that I have a mind and a life of my own? That I can be trusted to make decisions in my life without you chiming in and questioning them?” Your breathing was labored and you tried to calm down, lowering your voice. “Why can't you accept that this was my choice, and it's a valid one? Why would you think you know Theo better than me? Do you think I can't trust my judgement, that I'm just a love-sick, hysterical, stupid schoolgirl who can't descipher reality and delusion?”

“Maybe you are!” Harry bellowed and you flinched, a sudden wave of hurt crashing down on you.

“You say that again,” a voice, soft and eerily composed, said, “and you’ll regret it.” The words hung gravely in the air as everyone, including the groups of Griffindors and Slytherins, stared at Theo, stunned by the both deliberate and utterly terrifying tone of his voice. But the speechlessness didn't last long.

“After everything we’ve been through,” Harry hissed at you, hurt brimming in his eyes, “this is how you repay me? By sneaking around with him?” His fists were clenched at his sides and he paid no attention to Hermoine's pleas to just leave.

“This isnt about you,” you breathed, aghast at his nerve, “This is about me. For once, this is just about me! God, Harry, why are you being so self-centered? This has nothing to do with you!”

“It has everything to do with me!” Harry shouted, stepping even closer. “I just don't get how you could be so stupid! You think he cares about you? He’s a Slytherin- he’s probably using you!” His words were hurtful and they stung worse than the bruises from earlier, but Harry wasn't done yet. “What happens when he gets bored of you? Have you thought about that? If you think Theodore Nott is interested in you, you’re even more naive than I thought.”

You knew he didn't mean it that way. But it still hurt you. This assumption that Theo could never like you for you, could never be interested in you apart from the fact that you were Harry Potter’s sister. That there was nothing about you that made you special, or lovable. That you had no idea what you were doing and no agency of your own. Just a stupid little girl fooling around with something she didn't understand. He was wrong. You told it to yourself over and over in your head as you stared at him silently, watching his anger shift into something else. He was wrong, Theo liked you. Right? But what did he like about you? What was there about you?

You hadn't realized you were crying, you only registered it when Theo himself stepped forward. Apart from the most threatening death glare you had ever seen from him, he didn't attack Harry. His attention was fixed on you, as if he was waiting for your command. But you could only stand there, under the eyes of your classmates, as tears ran down your face.

Harry seemed to realize now what he had said and took a step forward, but you took one back and let out a dry laugh. No words came out. Even if you had some to shoot back, defend Theo or stand up for yourself, they wouldn't have made it past the lump in your throat. Swallowing hard, you took another step back, then another, and before you knew it, you were fleeing up the stairs, ignoring the shouts behind you. You didn't know wether they were directed at you, or Harry, or Theo. You only wanted to get away.

taglist: @annaisabookworm @empath-bunny @k0z3me @slutfordpr @aespaslut @kiarst @the-oracle-at-delphinitely-not @fakem0net @sammyreid @tulipsc @yasmin-oviedo @lazycrazyme @vratune @mariadvorak

[nerdlvr]

friends?

just fluff , bsf jeno to lovers , haechan is haechan ofc, mark and renjun cameo , mentions of chenle and jaemin , touchy friends , pet names , cuddling , they don’t act like friends ofc , kissing for like 2 seconds , requested here !

"look at those two."

mark followed renjun's finger to the dance floor, you and jeno looking very friendly as your bodies swayed against each other.

"then she complains that she doesn't have a boyfriend, everyone in this party thinks they're dating! like come-"

mark held his hand up,

"wait wait wait, look."

now renjun was the one following mark's finger to the dance floor, there you were being pulled away by some mystery figure, jeno standing there dumfounded.

"oh shit."

"dude wait, wait act normal he's coming towards us."

mark turned his back to jeno, pretending like he was having some interesting conversation with renjun,

"and then i was like- oh hey jeno! didn't see you ther-"

"don't be an idiot i know you were watching us."

mark's lips formed a straight line as renjun laughed at him,

"nice one markie, always subtle."

"shut up renjun."

jeno rolled his eyes, the cup in his hand crinkling slightly under his grasp,

"how about both of you shut up?"

haechan joined the three of them, two drinks in hand,

"someones got an attitude, must be cause i just saw y/n-"

mark gestured for haechan to shut his mouth, his eyes wide as he swiped his hand across his neck in a cutting motion,

"and i will be leaving now, good day gentlemen."

haechan swayed his hips as he danced away. at least someone was in a good mood.

"can you all stop acting like that."

renjun stared into his drink, swirling it around the red cup,

"can you stop acting like you're not in love with y/n?"

renjun side eyed jeno, hesitantly waiting for him to respond. but instead jeno slumped against the kitchen counter, his hands coming up to rub roughly against his face.

"i'm not in love with her, she's- she's my best friend."

"if that's what you wanna call it dude, but renjun's my best friend and you don't see me dancing up on him-"

it was mark's turn to talk, a slight laugh in his voice as renjun made a gagging gesture,

"and i definitely don't get jealous when he's talking to other people."

jeno looked up at mark to respond when he felt a warm figure latch onto his side, and there you were, a small sleepy grin on your face. any harsh words that would've been directed to mark died in his throat as he brought his hands up to cup your face,

"ready to go home bubs?"

you nodded against his hands, eyes momentarily fluttering shut. you giggled as he blew on your face to wake you up, your eyes opening to see his soft smile,

"wake up, lets go home sleepyhead."

he let go of your face to wave his friends goodbye, giggling softly as you started to dig your face into his chest,

"we're gonna get going, you have a ride home right?"

their heads turned as a screaming haechan zoomed past them half naked, a man in a gorilla costume chasing after him. mark shook his head as he threw his thumb out to point towards where haechan had just been running,

"that's my ride! don't worry about it jen, you take care of your... friend there, me and renjun will take care of our haechan."

jeno let out a small laugh as he waved goodbye before turning to leave, not missing how mark shook his head, mouthing the words not best friends.

.

you didn't even know you had arrived home until you felt the warmth of your bed engulfing you, your puppy plushy tucked gently into your arms,

"jen?"

your voice was soft as you called out into your empty room, your bed no longer feeling as warm as it should. you sat up, arms hitting against your puffy duvet as you looked around for any sign of jeno.

he wouldn't just leave you. you didn't know why you felt so frantic as you rushed out of bed, the cool air making you shiver. your slippers quickly slid along your wood flooring as you shuffled out of your room, eyes searching around your living area.

he wouldn't just leave you. your chest tightened as you heard your bathroom door open, a worried looking jeno stepping out quickly. he rushed over to you hands immediately cupping your face to examine you,

"did you call me? is everything alright? i'm sorry i just wanted to wash up before-"

of course he wouldn’t leave you. you pushed his hands away, your arms reaching forward to pull him in by his waist. he smelled of your shampoo, warm and sweet. your voice was muffled against his chest as you let out a breath of relief,

"everything's okay, come to bed... please?"

you both walked awkwardly towards your room, your arms still tightly wrapped around him as you stood on his feet. he wobbled you both to bed, giggling as you refused to release him, your head shoved firmly against his chest,

"come on lovey, lets get into bed, i know you're tired."

you finally let go of him as you crawled into bed, a small smile on your face as you watched him get in after you. his body was warm against yours, arms wrapping around your waist as he pulled you against his chest.

"whats got you so smiley hm?"

you shoved your face into his shoulder hiding your growing smile,

"just happy you're here."

"would you have been happy if that other guy had brought you home?"

he bit his lip waiting for your response, real smooth jeno.

you placed your chin on his chest, a slight pout on your lips,

"no."

your response was simple, straight and clear. but for some reason the word no hung in the air, the slight shift in the room making you giggle nervously.

"i mean like- you know- just- just no."

"what if it was jaemin?"

your eyes rolled,

"no."

"chenle?"

you shook your head against his chest,

"nope."

"what about haechan?"

you stopped shaking your head to look at him, a grimace on your face,

"is that even a question?"

he laughed at your response, hands coming up to rub at your hair,

"so just me?"

"just you jen. there's no one like you."

you rubbed his chest softly. a light blush on both your cheeks as your words settled between you two.

“it’s always gonna be just us.”

us. was there an us? you were too scared to ask, scared of what an us might imply. but jeno always knew just what to say, he was good at that, even if sometimes he doubted himself,

“i only want it to be us. me and you. seeing you with someone else isn’t right.”

your blush now spread down your neck, your body radiating softly against his. his expression mimicked yours, cheeks a pretty pink as he chuckled nervously,

“yeah… just- be with me you know. don’t waste your time on other guys that don’t even know you, i’ve been here always and you- you- what are you thinking right now?”

he looked down to see you grinning up at him, your smile making his chest ache. you tried to hide your smile, ducking your head into his chest again,

“i just think- okay.”

“okay?”

his voice was a little confused maybe even a little surprised. what did you mean okay?

“just okay. this is nothing new jen, it’s always been just us, we were just too scared to put a label on it. i mean even haechan tried to show us and he’s the most-“

“haechan?”

you giggled against his chest,

“yeah, that guy that asked me to dance said that haechan promised him 20 bucks if he pulled me away from you.”

jeno brought a hand up to rub his face, groaning loudly,

“oh my god, and mark- and renjun! i can’t believe i fell for it!”

you gave his chest light pats rubbing after to soothe him,

“it’s okay jen, we all know you can’t hold in your jealousy.”

he held onto your hand, sitting up slightly,

“i was not jealous!”

you giggled as you leaned up slightly to plant a soft kiss on his cheek,

“whatever you say jen, whatever you say.”

he rolled his eyes at you unable to hold back his smile,

“give me another kiss and i’ll consider datin g you even after you left me to dance with some other guy.”

“and if i don’t?”

he pouted slightly before cupping your face, his lips spreading back into a smile,

“brat, you know i’m gonna kiss you anyways.”

only a soft mhm left your lips as he pressed his lips against yours, soft and sweet, the light taste of liquor on his tongue invading your senses.

you both parted slowly, dazed looks on your faces as you both just smiled at each other, cheeks pink and lips shiny.

you both owed haechan, big time.