#soulmate smut

[causeilikelix]

Rose Garden - Part One - Lee Know Smut

↳Pairing: Prince!Lee Know x Maid!afab reader

↳Words: 7,800

↳Warnings: SMUT 18+ only!!!!! Minors DNI!!!!!, Lee Know has a dirty mouth, unprotected sex (we all know the drill), inexperienced virgin!reader, Lee Know also might be a virgin but idk, pretty vanilla stuff, power dynamics, creampie, multiple orgasms, multiple (2) positions, semi-public sex, they almost get caught but aren't, angst, a mention of throwing up but no one does

↳Summery:  You are a maid for one of the ladies eligible for a chance to see if they are the prince's soulmate. You join your lady and attend the tea party but you grow bored and wander off. After a while, you stumble across a beautiful rose garden and an even more beautiful man- though he's not very nice.

TAGLIST: @ohmy-moonlightx , @junebug032 , @giyusatorou , @skzfelixlove , @kittkat44 , @nap-of-a-starr, @ventitto , @blankdyean , @lethallyprotected , @poisonivy21 , @nobody3210 , @chuuswifereal , @hisokasimp1

(Strikethrough means unable to tag)

↳Notes: Long story short, I work a lot and I'm tired but I'm trying to get these written!!!

↳Ready on my AO3: Here

Part One

“MOTHER!”  JOY COMPLAINED loudly, “Do I really have to go to this ridiculous ball?” 

“Yes, darling,” Joy’s mother, Mrs. Park, flitted around the room and checked each of the offerings of the maids, “Tonight is vital.  You must catch the eye of the Prince!”

“What if he's not my soulmate, though?”  Joy pouted, which you caught through her vanity mirror as you carefully curled her hair. 

“Darling, when you’re this high up in society you can’t be concerned about all of that soulmate dribble!  You are a lady!  You are out in society and your position matters!”  Mrs Park insisted.  She made her way over to the vanity and gestured for you to move aside. 

Wordlessly and obediently, you stepped aside to let Joy’s mother take over your task of doing Joy’s hair.  You backed away to stand with the other maids who were holding various jewelry options for this afternoon’s tea party.  

Joy looked absolutely stunning, which was truly no surprise.  As one of the higher ladies of the court, she had to be.  Whenever she went to these tea parties or balls, it was part of your job to make sure she looked her best.  You did her hair, helped her into whichever gown was chosen for the event, and applied the perfect amount of rouge to her cheeks.  As her dedicated ladies maid, you also had to cater to her every whim.  

Technically, you weren’t allowed to be friends with the lady you served but you and Joy had gotten rid of that ages ago.  As her mother rambled on about the importance of holding the family’s position in society, Joy locked eyes with you through the vanity mirror and rolled her eyes.  You had to stifle your giggle into your hand and pretend it was a sneeze in order for the other maids to ignore you. 

“Mother, the prince does absolutely nothing for me.  We would be an awful match!”  Joy whined. 

“Joy, I won’t keep telling you why you have to attend this event.  This is your last chance to catch the Queen’s eye.  If you don’t then they will choose a bride for him this evening at the ball.”

“But every eligible girl in society will also be peacocking around!  There’s no way I could ever stand out.”

“Joy!”  Mrs Park scolded with a light smack to her shoulder.  She moved away and gestured for you to continue your task.  “Ms. Y/N, please do your best work.  You are serving the potential future princess of our fine country!”

“Mother!”  Joy screeched, but Mrs Park made her way out of the room before Joy could whine much more.  “Y/N, you’d better make me look like a monster!”  

“Ma’am, I’ve heard that the Prince is a fine young man!”  You chimed in as you went back to putting small crystals into Joy’s dramatic updo.

“Oh, come on, please don’t call me that when mother isn’t around.  It makes me feel like an old maid.”  Joy pouted. 

“Of course.  Which jewelry set do you want to go with your dress?”  You waved over the other maids, who hurried over to present their offerings.  Joy perused them for a moment before pointing at a silver and blue set to complement the rich navy she had on.

“I don’t know why mother insists on jewel tones.”  Joy sighed, “She knows I prefer pastels.  All the other girls will be wearing pastels to tea!”

“Or maybe they won’t!  This is the last chance to impress the Queen before she makes the decision for him.”

“I hope she’s decided already.  I think I’d hate being married to a prince.  What if he’s dull?”  Joy sighed.

“Honestly, they probably chose his intended ages ago and they’re doing all this for the sake of some social events and entertainment,” You suggested innocently.  

Joy gasped in horror and turned to look at you.

“How dare you insult the royal family!”  She exclaimed.  Her eyebrows furrowed and your heart dropped into your stomach.  You hadn’t meant to-

Joy cracked a smile.  She giggled openly, which helped your muscles relax.  She was just joking.

“Don’t frighten me so!”

“I will never reprimand you for voicing your opinions, even about the royal family.  I believe we are well past that, don’t you?”  Joy turned back to the mirror and you got back to work on her hair. 

You were able to breathe a little better. 

Once Joy had her hair done and her jewels put on, she got up and started towards the door.  You bowed as she left and mentally ran through the list of duties you had to attend to once she left.  Tidy the closet, dust the shelves, make her bed, wash her pillow cases and-

“Oh,” Joy sighed, her hand on the doorknob, “I do wish you could come with me.  You make much better company than any of the other ladies.”

“I wish I could go too, Miss.”  The formality slipped out, but she allowed it. 

“Maybe you could go.”  Joy mused, “I could demand you accompany me in case I have a fainting spell or something.  I suddenly feel one coming on.”

She shot you a mischievous grin.  

“You just want to paint all afternoon."

For almost ten years she’d been faking fainting spells in order to either get out of an event or get you to go with her.  You were surprised that she hadn’t faked one today.  Despite the dramatic navy gown and the sparkly jewelry, Joy preferred to spend her days with you in the greenhouse painting away.  Each year for your birthday she gifted you a blank sketchbook and some pencils and often invited you to paint with her.  You weren’t nearly as good as her, but it allowed for you to have something to do together.  An even playing field.  No titles. 

“You caught me.  What can I say?  I prefer painting with my best and only friend in the ton over mingling and pretending to hope for the Queen’s approval.”  Joy mused for a few long moments.  Then, terrifyingly, her eyes lit up.  She opened the door and called out into the house.  “Mother! Y/N is joining us to the ball today!  I shall require her assistance changing into my other gown for the ball.”

“What?”  You gawked.

Joy closed the door and turned to you triumphantly.

“Crystal,”  Joy turned to one of the other maids, “Please prepare my pink and blue gown with the flowers and sapphires on the bodice for the palace with the fullest underskirt you can find.  Oh, and the pink set of jewelry that Papa gave me for Christmas!  Y/N, go prepare your best dress!  You’re going to the royal ball!”

~!~!~!~!~!~

Joy’s scheming got you right where she wanted you.  If you had the chance, you definitely would have stayed home but you were in no position to refuse her.  Joy’s mother wasn’t thrilled that you were there but at this point she knew that there were some battles you just don’t win.  

It wasn’t as if there was much for you to do at this party anyway.  Joy made you change into your event uniform, which was really just a cleaner black-and-white version of what you normally wore.  Today you wore a long black dress with a white lace apron layered over the skirt, with a white collar and cuffs.  

All well and good if the tea party wasn’t outdoors.

By all means, the temperature outside was quite pleasant unless you had to stand off to the side with the other ladies maids in direct sunlight.  All of you had delicate sheens of sweat along the backs of your necks as you waited to be summoned by your respective ladies.  Some of the maids you’d seen before and had decent friendships with.  The great part about being a maid is that almost all of them were into gossip, as if they were reading a dramatic-real life romance novel. 

“Ryujin, you’ll never believe it!”  Yuna exclaimed, “Mr Lee proposed to Lady Shim last week!  They had a few moments together in the garden and he got down on one knee and he had a ring prepared and everything!”

“How romantic!”  Ryujin squealed, “Did she accept?”

“Honestly, I’m in disbelief!  She didn’t refuse him but she said she needed time to think.  It’s possible that she’s hoping to be chosen by the Queen but she can’t be selected if she’s betrothed.”

“Have any of you actually seen Prince Minho?”  Ryujin sighed, “I mean, Mr Lee is a catch.  Why would she turn him down?”

“I saw the prince once!”  Lia, another maid into all the gossip, chimed in eagerly, “He is unbelievably handsome.”

“Oh, shove it.  You only saw the back of his head once.” Yuna rolled her eyes, “I saw him once a few weeks ago.  He is, without a doubt, one of the most handsome men I’ve ever set my eyes on!”

“What about you, Y/N, have you seen the prince?”  Ryujin turned the attention onto you.

“No, I’ve only heard about him from Lady Joy.  She has no interest in him.”

“Well, I think he actually plans on attending this event alongside the Queen, so hopefully we should get a glimpse of him soon!”

“Why aren’t they searching for his soulmate?  I heard that a soulmate match makes for more successful breeding.”  You asked.

“That was the purpose of these parties all month!  They’ve been bringing in all the ladies and the princesses of neighboring countries to each try their hand at being his soulmate but no one suitable has been found,” Ryujin explained, “If he doesn’t find his soulmate tonight then the Queen will choose one of the offers submitted by various other royal or noble families.”

“This is all so dull,” you sighed, “Who cares about soulmates and politics.  All we can do is watch!  At this rate I’ll die an old maid.”

“If you find your soulmate I’m sure your lady will let you marry!”  

“Only if he’s someone of my rank.”  You rolled your eyes, “It looks like Lady Joy is enjoying herself so I think I might go for a walk, care to join me?”

“Goodness, no.  I would get in trouble if I ever left my lady’s sight!”

“Well, tell her I had to find the servant’s quarters if she asks about me.” 

You didn’t know why Joy wanted you along so badly if she was only going to get caught up in the other ladies she was friends with.  You figured a turn around the gardens wouldn’t be such a bad thing, especially since no one was paying any attention to you.  Also, this might be the only chance you ever got to see the royal garden.  

Quietly, you slipped away from the other maids and turned to venture deeper in the gardens.  The party was relatively localized so there were acres of untouched flora to explore.  Maybe, if you were lucky, there would be a pond or a fountain to sit by and watch.  Something about water always fascinated you. 

The sun warmed your skin as you walked through the hedges and trees.  The cobblestone paths crunched delicately beneath your shoes.  Flowers and shrubs lined the path, allowing for a delicate floral scent to fill the air.  You sighed happily when a light breeze helped the aroma into your nose.  

By all means, this was the perfect day for a tea party.  The only thing missing was the tea.  The more you thought about it the more a cup of tea sounded wonderful, but you would have to wait for a cup until you got back to the house and put Joy to bed.

As you walked you occasionally passed by other maids or servants of the palace but they paid you no mind.  Your finer uniform gave the impression that you belonged within the palace walls, but you knew you did not.  Your family was intimately entwined with the Park family.  From birth you were predestined to be Joy’s lady's maid.  You feared that you would never do anything else. 

When you were a little girl you used to dream of entering the palace.  As a child, it was as a woman of nobility who got to wear all of the pretty dresses that Lady Joy got to wear and dance at all the balls.  However, as you got older you figured that the more realistic track would be for you to enter the kitchen and work as a servant.  There was little to no chance of changing rank and now that you were a proper soulmate-seeking adult, you had to accept your reality.  Nothing would ever change for you.

Then the gardens began to change. 

The standard hedges turned into lofty lattice structures.  The wood was painted white and the structures created square arches over the path.  Lattice fences lined the walkway as well.  Vines snaked up the structures and overhead, creating lovely shadows that helped to soothe the sweat pearling at the back of your neck.  The white gravel turned to cobblestones under your feet.

Soon, however, flowers began to appear on the vines.  As you ventured deeper into the garden, roses of every color began to decorate the lattice and the arches.  There were several stripes of color.  Several feet of white roses, then orange, then red, then purple.  The soft aroma of the roses wafted into your nose and you sighed happily.  The occasional iron bench lined the path and you had half a mind to sit down and take a rest for a while. 

“Goddamn it!”  A voice carried from a crevice in the hedges and you jumped.  The exclamation was soon followed by a loud thump and a groan of pain. 

On instinct, you gasped and went to find the source of the noise.  The second groan of pain helped you navigate the maze of lattice fences with roses on them.  The path curved into a generous arch before an opening into the center of the garden appeared.  You dipped through a circular hedge gate until you emerged into probably the most beautiful place you’d ever seen in your life. 

In the center of a generous opening was a stone gazebo with lattice fences lining it.  Those, of course, had large rose bushes wound throughout making the gazebo feel like a proper enclosed building.  A delicate trickling stone fountain of a woman pouring water into a basin sat in front.  A plethora of garden trimming tools like shears and a basket of weeds sat at the stone woman’s feet.  Along the back wall were more fences lined with roses so you supposed you shouldn’t have been surprised to see the man on the ground near them. 

The man wore a pair of brown trousers and a white flowy top that hung off his shoulders and showed off his milky collarbones.  He wore a pair of black boots that went up just below his knees.  You couldn’t see his full face but you knew only from his profile that he would be beautiful.  He groaned and wiped his hands on his pants before standing back up.  He sighed and fixed his cuffs before turning and seeing you at the entrance to the small garden.  Instantly, his face morphed into one of horror and he backed away from you slowly.

“Leave immediately!”  The man commanded in a sweet and melodic voice that was a strong contrast to his barked orders, “And tell no one what you saw!”

“I… I’m sorry!”  You dipped down into a low curtsey, even though you couldn’t tell who he was.  Judging from the dirt on his pants and the trimming shears on the ground by your feet, you had something of an idea. 

“Didn’t I tell you to go?”  He asked again after you hesitated to move. 

“I do apologize but… I appear to have lost my way and-”

“You lost your way?  Isn’t it required of the help to know their way around this oppressive castle?”  The man rolled his handsome cat-like eyes and he tossed a hand through his rich brown locks. 

“I… Well, I am just visiting.”  Your throat closed as you spoke.  He glared at you, making you feel small under his intense gaze. 

“Ah, you’re just visiting then?  For the party?  Well, that makes you forgiven for your presence here.  You shouldn’t be away from your post.”  The man scoffed, making you doubt that he was serious about his words. 

“Sir, I’m truly sorry.  I got lost.  If you could tell me the way out then I will-”

“I will tell you.”  The man sighed in defeat, “but only if you tell no one where you were or what you saw.”

“Sir, no one would believe me anyway.  If you wish to escape then it’s none of my business.”  

“You are just a ladies maid, I suppose.  Fine, if you go back through the arch and turn left then-”  the man paused.  

He finally looked up at you and straight into your eyes.  You were shocked by how strangely warm his eyes were, despite the neverending glare.  The sunlight was hitting them just right and making his eyes a swirling exhibit of chestnut and gold.  The crease between his eyebrows softened after a moment before his entire face relaxed and he sighed.  

“Sir?”

“Look, I’m…”  he winced before he forced out the next words, “I’m sorry.  I am under a lot of stress right now and I shouldn’t be taking it out on you.”

“What kind of stress?”  You blurted out your question before you could stop yourself.  You knew you had to get back to your duties but something about this man kept your feet glued to the ground. 

“Have you ever had a huge obligation?  Like, something that has been planned practically since your birth that you can’t get out of?”  He paused to gauge your reaction.  You shook your head.  “I suppose not.  Anyway, it’s like there’s all this theater to pretend like my life is up to me but I know that it’s not.  I will be the subject of command my entire life and I can’t take it anymore.  I need to get out of here before it’s too late.”

“And you’re trying to climb the rose bushes?”

“Not successfully, I might add.  Those bristles are sharp.  But it’s the only place in the garden that has any sort of structure that can get me out.”

“Do you need some assistance, sir?”  You took a bold step deeper into the garden and towards the beautiful man. 

“Assistance?”  he chuckled, “You mean you would help me try to get over this fence?”

“Well, if you truly don’t want the life that’s been planned for you, why go through with it?  I believe that everyone should have a chance to live the life they want.  Granted, that’s not completely realistic in this society…”  

“It’s not?”  The man blinked at you in surprise, as if he was genuinely learning of hierarchy for the first time.

“Well, no.  Everybody has their master.  There’s no room for dreaming.  So, I think that if you have the opportunity to escape and follow your dream then you should.  What is your dream, if not this?”  You gestured vaguely to the flowers.  

“I want to live a simple life.  I want to be in control of myself and who I love.  I don’t want anyone to decide for me who I’m supposed to be with.  I don’t want anyone looking over my shoulder all the time.”

“Then go!  I’m certainly not stopping you.  It looks like there’s a place to grip the fence up there, if you want me to give you a lift?”  You moved a little closer, tearing your eyes off of the beautiful stranger and up at the lattice fence.  

“You?  Want to give me a lift?  Are you sure you wouldn’t be crushed under my weight?”

“I am a ladies maid, sir, I would sooner be crushed under the laundry I must do after the ball this evening.”  

The man smiled at you.  The first warm gesture since you’d met.  For a moment, the smile almost seemed… endearing.  

You couldn’t deny that being under his gaze made you weak in the knees.  Whoever this escapist gardener was, he was handsome.  You enjoyed the sound of his voice as it wafted through the air.  It sounded sweeter than the scent of the bold blooms surrounding you.  Sunbeams that were cast through the flowers landed on his golden skin, making him practically glow.  Your time together was fleeting… and you wanted more of him.

“Come,”  he gestured with his hand for you to move closer.  You appreciated the contrast from only a few moments ago. 

You followed his command and floated closer to him.  Your feet practically moved on their own, as if you were being drawn to him like a magnet. 

“You’re so obedient when you want to be.”  He complimented.  He turned towards the wall and put his hands on his hips.  He scanned it until he found the patch of white wood that wasn’t covered in the thorny flowers or their leaves.  “I think that will work, like you said.  Why don’t you come stand right here and-”

He turned and suddenly put his hands on your shoulders.  You gasped at the contact but let him move you into position by the wall.  As he dropped his hands from your shoulders, the tips of his fingers grazed against the back of your hand.  The man stopped speaking at the skin-on-skin contact, but he also didn’t stop touching you.  His fingers lingered there for a few seconds before he pulled away entirely. 

“I’m sorry, do forgive me.  I know that was careless but-”  He began but he was cut short by a gasp.  

You both gasped at the same time when the tell-tale arousal ripped up your spine.  It was practically instantaneous how you went from completely normal to, in a matter of seconds, dripping and empty.  You watched as his trousers grew tighter as an erection swelled under the fabric.  Both of you stared at each other for a few horrible seconds.  Of all places to meet your soulmate, why here?  Why now?

Your gaze flickered from his eyes to his mouth and you almost audibly groaned.  His pretty pink lips were parted slightly and they looked shiny with spit.  All you wanted to do was taste him.  From the way his eyes flicked down to your lips, you could only assume he wanted the same.

“You?”  He breathed out. 

“I could go,” you offered, though you could barely recognize the sound of your own voice.  He stared at you for a few long seconds.

“Don’t you dare.”

Then his mouth was on yours.  No ceremony, no build-up, just pure urgency.  His hands circled your waist as he waited for you to respond to his kiss.  Your eyes were open for a second as you contemplated the new situation, but before you knew it your eyes closed and you kissed him back.  He wasted no time in twisting his head and deepening the kiss.  Your inexperience didn’t seem to bother him as he worked his mouth with yours.  

He kissed you as if his life was on the line, as if this was the last time you would ever see each other.  For a moment, you wondered if that was true.  

The thought left your mind the moment his tongue swiped at your lower lip, requesting entrance.  You wasted no time in parting your lips and pushing your tongue against his.  You wondered if he really did taste like honey or if that was the soulmate hormone talking.  Your hands curled into his hair and he moaned at the contact.  Gratefully, you swallowed every noise that came from him.  

“I need to have you now,” he mumbled against your lips, “Please, let me have you.”

“I’m yours for the taking.”  

He wasted no time at all.  

In an instant, he was pushing you into a corner of the rose garden that was just out of sight of the entrance.  There wasn’t a bench or anything to sit on and he didn’t have anything to cushion the ground, but it didn’t really matter to either of you.  The emptiness between your legs was probably going to kill you if you didn’t have him immediately, so you pulled him to the ground and straddled his lithe hips. 

He gasped in surprise when his back hit the ground, but he grinned at your enthusiasm.  The kiss broken, you worked together to get your skirts out of the way and he tugged at your undergarments.  He glared at them like they were offensive to him personally.  He shot you a quick smirk before the sound of tearing fabric met your ears.

“Hey!  I kind of need those.”  You protested.

“I want to see what’s mine.”  

He lifted his head off the ground to gaze at your dripping sex.  You wonder if he could tell how wet you were just by a little kissing.  He moved one of his hands towards your center, shooting you a quick glance as if to ask permission.  The moment you nodded, the tips of his fingers grazed your outer sex and you gasped at the touch.  The mere touch alone tasted sweet.  

His fingers explored further, slipping beneath your lips to prod at your drenched hole.  He sucked in a sharp breath when he pushed his index finger into the first knuckle. 

“Damn, angel, you’re so wet.  This is all for me, hm?”   He pulled his fingers away and you groaned at the lack of contact.  Your eyes widened when he slipped his pointer finger into his mouth and lapped at your essence.  His eyes rolled into the back of his head at your taste before he looked up at you with eyes clouded with lust.  “Angel, I wish we had time for you to sit on my face so I can drink you up but right now I think I’ll die if I’m not inside you soon.” 

Honestly, you shared the sentiment.  You reached for the laces on his britches and tugged at them.  He leaned back and watched you wrestle with his pants for a few minutes.  However, it didn’t take him long to get needy himself and soon his fingers were joining yours. 

Together, you freed the laces and pushed his pants down just enough for his cock to pop out and slap onto his lower belly.  You were thankful that his shirt had ridden up a little in your efforts.  His dick, while being the only real one you’d ever seen, looked perfect.  It was thick and long and the head was a gorgeous shape of pink that matched his kiss swollen lips.  Since turning twenty one and being told about some of what to do, you had an idea of what was about to happen.  

“Have you ever seen one before?”  He grasped his cock with one hand and stroked it a few times.  His other hand gripped your waist and maneuvered you into place above him. 

“No, I’ve only heard about them, sir.”  You gasped when something hot and wet glided through your lower lips.  

“They really don’t teach you girls anything, do they?”  He tsked and pressed the head against your dripping hole.  With how wet you were, it could have slipped right in with no resistance.  “I’m going to put it inside you now.  There might very well be some discomfort, but you’re so wet I think you’ll drown my cock, so I think you’ll be fine.”

“Please, put it in.”  You practically begged, lowering your hips and accepting him into you.

You let out an embarrassingly loud moan when the head breached your entrance and began pushing inside you.  Your swollen walls stretched to accommodate him readily.  Like he said, there was a little discomfort from the initial stretch but there was no pain.  He moved the hand that was on his dick to your waist and used both hands to help you descend onto him.  You squeezed your eyes shut and let it happen.

When your hips were flush with one another, your thighs were shaking with effort.  You dropped your hands to his chest and held on for stability.  You kept your weight off him as much as you could, aside from how your pussy was finally wrapped around his delicious cock.  

“Are you alright?”  His soft voice made your eyes snap open to look at him.  His eyebrows were furrowed in concern and his grip on you tightened.  “You need not hold yourself up.”

“I am quite heavy, sir.  I don't want to crush you.”

“Nonsense.”   He growled, pushing down on your hips hard enough for your legs to give out.  Your full weight descended onto his hips, shoving his cock deeper into you and causing you both to let out groans of satisfaction.  The pressure of him being fully sheathed inside you made you want to cry.  It was as if he’d split you open.

Instantly, he lifted a hand to press it over your mouth.  Effortlessly, he pushed his hips up, held you in the circle of his arms and rolled you so you were on your back.  He shifted his hips a little bit just to be sure he wouldn’t slip out of you while he changed your position.  Once he was over you, dick still lodged within your warm and wet walls, he leaned down to whisper against your ear. 

“We don’t want to get caught, do we?  Stay quiet while I ruin you, yeah?”  

He kept his hand across your mouth as he ground his hips into you.  You groaned against his skin as the friction sent sparks of pleasure up your spine.  All of the discomfort of being filled melted away until all you could feel was absolute pleasure.  His cock massaged your insides perfectly with every single thrust.  He was so deep you could practically feel him in the back of your throat.  

You gazed up at him through your eyelashes, watching his face as he fucked you.  Every time he pushed in, his face contorted into a beautiful picture of pleasure.  Droplets of sweat trickled down his face, giving his skin a glowing sheen.  He gazed right back down at you, locking your eyes together with every grind of his hips.  From this angle, his shirt dipped down and you could see the expanse of his collarbones and chest.  You wished you had a better angle without all these pesky clothes in the way so you could see his cock as it entered you.

You mumbled against his sweaty hand, tasting the addicting salt of him.  

“Can you stay quiet if I take my hand away, my angel?”  He moaned lowly as a particularly deep thrust made you clench around him.  You nodded rapidly and he slowly pulled his hand away.  “What is it?”

“Faster,”  you begged.  You slightly pulled your knees up and your skirts away to give him more room.  “Please, sir, want to feel you.”

“Do you think you can handle it, precious angel?”  He threw two quick, hard thrusts into your heat and you bit back a pitiful moan.  You nodded quickly at his question.

“Please, I want more.”  You parted your knees a little more and it was his turn to moan.  He buried his head in your neck so that he could not be heard outside of your bubble. 

“Since you asked so nicely,”  He groaned and he began to pick up the pace.  Each thrust made an audible noise as your skin collided.  The burn between your legs grew and you reveled in the feeling.  

“S-so good,”  you reached for him to tangle your fingers in his hair, desperate for something to hold onto, “Don’t stop, sir.”

“Never, Angel.  Never.  You feel so fucking good.  So wet and tight for me.   Just wanna be inside you all the time, never wanna pull out.  You’re mine, yeah?  All mine, just mine.”  

His hands were everywhere.  He grabbed at your neck, your chest, reached below your skirts to grab your thighs before circling up towards a distinct target.  You weren’t sure what he was doing until his fingertips were collecting your slick and circling up your slit.  You didn’t think it could get much better until he circled a spot that had you biting his shoulder to keep from moaning loudly.  He grinned and kept his efforts focused on that spot.  

The pleasure began to mount.  Something pulled taut in your stomach and your legs began to shake.  A string in your belly tensed.  Your pussy ached from his constant rough thrusting but it sent sparks of pleasure all the way down to your toes.  

“Sir, please… please it feels-”  You weren’t sure what you were begging for but your soulmate seemed to double his efforts.  He thrust harder and pressed a little more on the swollen bundle of nerves at your center.  

“It’s okay, angel.  Just lay back and feel.  Don’t think of anything else.  Cum for me,”  He peppered kisses on your sweaty neck and collarbones.  

You focused on the pleasure building within you.  The peak approached you quicker than you would have liked, but before you knew it something wondrous washed over you.  Your thighs clenched around him and a choked moan caught in your throat.  You grabbed onto his shoulders and dug your nails into his skin, desperate for something to hold onto as a powerful orgasm washed over you.  

Your soulmate kept pushing his thick cock into you, but he slowed down to help you ride out your orgasm without overwhelming you.  Something sticky slipped out of you and he was sure that you’d left a gorgeous white ring of cum at the base of his cock.  

His angel had given him a halo.

He moved his hand away from your clit and anchored his elbows by your head.  He landed several soft kisses on your cheeks and lips but you were too far gone to respond.  Your ears were ringing and all you could think about was the avalanche of pleasure between your legs.  Waves of your orgasm made your thighs quiver a little.  You stared at the leaves above you and the golden streaks of light that stole in from the gaps.  The world slowly formed around you.  When you met his eyes, he smiled warmly.

“There you are.”  He whispered.

“That was… amazing.”  You sighed, but it turned into a gasp as your soulmate rocked his hips into yours a few times. 

“Angel, I still need to cum, too.  We can stop if you want but I need to-”

“Yes!  Please, keep going.”  You begged suddenly.  Your walls ached from the exertion but you also craved the feeling of him inside you even more. 

“Yeah?”  He groaned lowly as he pushed into you again.  He moaned into your neck as his pace began to increase more and more.  “Good.  Fuck, angel, I can’t wait to cum inside you.  Please can I cum inside you?”

“Yes, please!”  You begged.  

You knew what could happen if he came in you and you didn’t really want that right now, but the desire and the need to feel his release inside of you overpowered every other thing in the world.  You probably wouldn’t have cared if the prince walked in on you at this point.  

Your soulmate’s thrusts began to pick up speed.  The overstimulation in your pussy stung but you gritted your teeth through it.  His moans got higher in pitch and he panted wetly against your neck.

“I’m getting close, angel.”  He grunted above you.

His thick cock speared into you over and over again.  His heavy balls slapped against your ass and you just knew that he would have a lot of cum to give you. 

Your assumption was proven right only moments later.  He groaned loudly, shoved himself as deep into you as he could go, and his milky release coated your insides.  The pressure and the warmth against your cervix made your skin tingle at the base of your spine and you figured you could probably cum again.  You reached down between your legs and gasped to find your center slick and messy.  You rubbed your fingertips around until you hit your clit.  

It only took a few short rubs before your cunt clamped onto him.  He moaned at the feeling.

He thrusted shallowly into you a few times to ride out his high and every push resulted in another generous spurt of cum inside you.  It was as if your orgasm triggered his to last longer.

Finally, he slumped against you.  He did his best to keep his full weight off you but at this angle it couldn’t be helped.  You didn’t mind.  Despite the warmth of the day and the fact that your skin was sweat slicked, you needed him close.  

Together, you laid on the ground in each other’s arms for a few seconds.  The afterglow began to set in.  You craved his body close.  It must have only been seconds because a loud voice boomed through the garden, startling you both back into the real world. 

“Where is he!  He is going to be late to his own party!  I don’t care what he wants!  He’ll be an embarrassment to the royal family if he doesn’t make an appearance!  Search the grounds, go!  Now!”  A stern voice barked.

“Oh, shit.”  Your soulmate muttered. 

In an instant, he slid out of you, stood up and worked on redoing the laces on his pants.  His nimble fingers got the job done in almost no time.  It left you to quickly gather yourself.  Your undergarments were ripped but you could tie the scraps a little to keep yourself somewhat decent.  You fixed your skirts and started to get up, but your soulmate spoke again.

“Let me.”  His soft voice sounded sweet, like the roses.

He offered you his hand and he helped you rise to your feet and brush off the leaves and petals from your skirt.  When you met his eyes, you were shocked by the grief swimming in them.

“Are you okay?”  You reached out to cup his cheek in your hand but he flinched away from your touch.

“I’m sorry, I must go.”  He turned on his heel and started out of the garden. 

“Wait… what?”  You gasped out and followed him a few steps. 

“I must go.  I’m sorry, I wish I could stay but… I’ve waited too long and duty calls.” 

“But… wait, shouldn’t we talk about this?”  You followed him to the archway that led into the garden.  He stopped abruptly, his back to you for a few seconds.  His breath heaved.  When he turned to face you, his eyebrows were hardset.

“No.  I’m sorry, this shouldn’t have happened.  You can’t be my soulmate.  They would never allow it.  Let’s try to forget this ever happened, okay?  It’s for the best.”  His hard voice sent a shock down your spine.

You stared at him in surprise.  He didn’t give you the time to retort before he was stalking away and disappearing into the green.  You hurried after him but quickly found that you had no idea where you were going.  The turns and the bushes all looked identical.  

Tears welled in your eyes.  The more you searched for him, the more lost you became.  You ran blindly through the garden, your dress swirling at your ankles.  The sun beat down on you and a bead of sweat dripped down your temple.  Was it sweat on your face, or tears?  Was it sweat dripping down your legs, or cum? 

You ran until you bumped into a palace maid.  Both of you cried out in surprise and fell back.  You were unable to stop yourself from crying.  The other maid scolded you for making her drop her washing, but she stopped after a moment when she noticed your hysterical state. 

“Are you alright?”  She asked tentatively. 

“I don’t know… I… my soulmate… the party!  I’m lost!  What if… my mistress… she needs me.”  You wailed, dropping your head into your hands. 

“Are you a ladies maid for one of the ladies at the party?” 

“Yes.  I only stepped away for a moment but I got lost!”

“It’s okay!  It’ll be okay, I promise.”  The maid soothingly rubbed your arm.  “Let’s get you back to the party, okay?  You’re not far.”

The maid led you through the garden.  You followed blindly, not really paying any attention to where you were going.  The garden didn’t hold as much beauty as it did a few minutes ago.  You kept your eyes peeled for the gardener.  Your soulmate.  

Like she said, it wasn’t long before soft music filled the air.  A harp, by the light, airy sound of it.  Then the murmur the guests followed.  Before anyone could come into sight, the maid turned around and stopped you. 

“You look a mess, my dear.  Let’s clean you up first.  You don’t want your lady to see you in this state, do we?”  The palace maid gently wiped away your tears and smoothed your hair.  She pulled a few leaves out of the tangled strands. 

“Why are you being so nice to me?”  You sniffled.  The maid smiled sadly. 

“My soulmate is above my standing, too, love.” 

“What?  No, it’s the gardener… he just ran off and-”

“There.”  The maid smoothed your hair one last time.  “Go on!  You don’t want to keep your lady waiting.”  

Before you could think to ask what she meant, the maid hurried back into the garden, leaving you alone with your thoughts.  

Only moments ago, you were with the person you were meant to be with but now you were alone.  Your body ached and your eyes burned from crying.  You needed a drink.  

Instead, you held your head high and ventured back into the garden where the party was in full swing.  So to speak.  A few women danced in a clearing next to the pavilion where the musicians played.  Mostly, people milled about, sipped on drinks, and snacked on hors d'Oeuvres.  The girls wore various lightly colored pastel dresses that glittered and shimmered in the sunlight.  If you were sweating in your dress, you were certain that the girls in attendance would be feeling faint.  Luckily, there were several open-air tents pitched around the garden where the girls who weren’t partaking in the festivities could rest. 

It came to no surprise to you that Joy had set up underneath one of the tents.  You made your way over to her and she waved at you the second she saw you weaving through the crowd.  You hurried to her side and you curtsied deeply in apology.

“Miss, I apologize for slipping away without saying anything first, I-”

“You what?”  Joy blinked at you in surprise.  “You know what, it’s okay.  It’s no matter.  I called you over because the prince is about to make his entrance!  I wanted you to get a good look at him.  There’s a tiny chance he’ll be my soulmate, afterall.”

“It might be nice to live at the palace.”  You cleared your throat, hoping that she wouldn’t catch on to the fact that tears still brimmed in your eyes. 

“It is quite pretty, isn’t it?  I’m not sure if I could stomach all of the royal duties.  Waving at crowds, kissing babies, the politics within the court.  How exhausting!  Maybe if he’s handsome then this wouldn’t be so bad.”  Joy sighed, “Y/N, how I wish you were a lady.  I would rather sit with you, gossip, and share this food with you.  Maybe I should have dressed you up in one of my gowns and pretended you were my cousin from out of town.”

“I’m afraid I’d be useless at one of these parties.” 

“Nonsense!  Didn’t I teach you to dance when we were teenagers?  You know all the steps.”  Something clicked in Joy’s head and she jumped.  “A-ha!  Y/N!  I had Crystal pack an extra gown and corset in case I spilled tea on this one.  After the party, let’s dress you in that!  You can attend the ball with me!  Not as a maid, but as a friend.”

“Miss!  I don’t think that would be proper.  I am only a maid and-”

“No one will recognize you!  Once you put on a gown, no one will be the wiser.  What do you say?” 

“I’m not sure if that’s wise-”

“ALL RISE.”  A voice boomed over the party. 

The music and the murmur of the crowd lulled and faded out.  A butler stood up a few stairs on a path towards the palace.  He stood tall and held a cone in his hand in order to amplify his voice.  Those who were seated scrambled to their feet, Joy included. 

“I am here to announce the entrance of the Royal Prince Lee Minho!  All bow!”  The butler screamed into the cone.  A few birds squawked and flew out of their nest that was in a tree along the back wall of the garden.

The musicians played a fanfare.  You joined in bowing with all of the guests and maids at the party.  The music swelled and you peeked up to see if you could catch a glimpse of the prince. 

His footsteps echoed on the stone path.  His pants were blindingly white but it was offset by a blood red officer's coat, adorned with a sash and multiple medals of honor.  A golden circlet crown sat atop his head.  His stoic face- wait.

That face. 

That gait. 

His cat-like eyes surveyed the crowd, taking in his subjects.  Prince Minho’s shoulders were set and broad.  There was no happiness in his face and, in fact, his eyes looked a little puffy as if he’d just woken up or if… he’d been crying.  

His face was one you knew well.  You’d know him anywhere.  It would be impossible to forget the man whose cum was currently dripping down your legs. 

Your stomach lurched and you could have sworn that you were going to throw up.  

“Lady Joy?”  You whispered. 

“Hm?”

“I’ll take you up on it.  I want to go to the ball.”  

You looked back up at the Prince to find him staring right back at you.  He showed no surprise on his face, only melancholy.  

Horror settled inside you when the realization washed over your senses.  Everything and nothing made sense all at once. 

Prince Minho was your soulmate.

Part Two ->

[lillyrob]

Actual footage of me patently waiting for my favorite author to upload😫😫😫

[godmadeaterribleerror]

I Could Have You

Main Masterlist

Read on A03!

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, Love Confessions, Smut (p in v, oral both receiving), light angst, soulmates, sex pollen, no use of y/n

Summary/Warnings: Dean is hit with a lust spell, and it doesn't seem to only be effecting him. No one's really sure why, and Dean refuses to give in to the curse, so you'll just ride this out.

You'll defiantly be able to just ride this out.

Author's Note: I had a lot of fun with this one, I hope you enjoy it!

Title from Normal Fucking Rockwell by Lana Del Ray

Word Count: 6k

You’re losing your mind.

Your skin is on fire, your back is flat on the cold bathroom floor, and you’re moaning and whining and bucking into the air but nothing is fixing this. Nothing is relieving you, not your fingers or the pillows or the toy a very red-faced Sam had bought you. Nothing is going to save you, because only one, stupid, handsome, selfless idiot can, and he’s suddenly too good to just fuck you.

Hell, that idiot is the only reason this is happening. According to Sam and Bobby, Dean got hit with a sex spell in Colorado, you started whimpering for him in South Dakota, and you’re not allowed to have sex with him for… reasons.

Reasons no one seems willing to fully share with you, but reasons.

You know Dean wants you. You’ve known he wants you. Neither of you have ever been able to do something about that—never going beyond flirting and lingering touches and stares—but you’re certain he feels the same way. Maybe not the exact same way, because you want whatever Dean offers you, his body or mind or heart or very soul, but you know he’s attracted to you. And if the countless little pieces of evidence you’ve hoarded in your brain—winks and smirks and long, apperceive scans of your body—weren’t enough for you to know, this was. You’d heard Dean roar your name from outside Bobby’s cabin as the Impala door slammed. You’d seen the feral, lust-blown expression on his face as he’d charged at you. Sam had tackled him to the ground as you’d grown a little dizzy with need, and Bobby grabbed your wrist, dragging you upstairs. Away from Dean, from the cure, from his big hands and soft mouth and huge-

“You’re gonna need to stay in here.” Bobby had muttered, refusing to meet your eyes as he shuffled out of the room. “Least until we get Dean’s head right, or figure out what the hell is going on.”

It’s been almost a day, and they’ve made almost no progress. From Sam’s last update, all they’re certain of is: Sex spell, you and Dean, no other options except you and Dean.

“What do you mean no other options,” you’d said, leaning up to frown at Sam. “Did Dean-“

“No.” Sam shakes his head, giving you a sheepish expression. “I mean, Bobby and I suggested it, but he said no.”

“Oh,” you’d mumbled, falling back down on the mattress. “Why?”

Sam had shrugged, leaning into your line of vision. “Do you want to have sex with me?”

“No, Sam, what the fuck-“

“That’s why.”

He’d stood up and left, and you hadn’t had a clue what the hell he was talking about. Sure, you didn’t want to have sex with him, but he was like a brother to you. Dean, somehow, wasn’t. Dean was Dean. And it wasn’t like you’d say no to a random, no-strings attached hookup right now-

Something had tugged in your gut, and you’d realized—staggering to the toilet and vomiting up your lunch—that you could not do a random hookup. You wanted Dean. You needed him. You might die if you didn’t get him, and it had to be him, and he must feel it too, but when you’d asked Sam he said no.

“No?!” You’d rolled over on the floor to glare up at him, wishing you could find the strength to surge up and punch him in his stupid, apologetic face. “What do you mean No?!”

“Dean, um,” Sam had sighed again, and if he kept doing that you were going to kick him in the balls. “He made us lock him in the safe room. He won’t come out until we cure him.”

“Why did he-“ You’d cut yourself off as it hit you, another, softer wave of sickness rolling over your body. The sickness lived in your heart. This sickness was made of the tragic reality that Dean might want you, but he didn’t want you. Maybe that was why he’d never made a move. Maybe he was attracted to you physically, but couldn’t see you like that, and didn’t really want to try to.

Maybe Dean was disgusted by the idea. Maybe he hated that his body found you hot, because he thinks of you like you think of Sam.

“Oh,” you’d rolled back onto your stomach, and prayed Sam would leave soon so you could go back to humping the floor. “Okay.”

Sam had said your name, waiting until you hummed an acknowledgment to continue. “We’re going to fix this-“

“I know.” You’d let out a long, slow breath, curling into your own body. “We always do.”

They would fix this. And then you’d have to look Dean in the eyes, and find a way to be okay with his rejection. Teach yourself how to not turn into a pining dumbass, chasing after someone who obviously didn’t want you. You wouldn’t lose him, he was your best friend, but you’d also have to learn to pretend it didn’t feel like your heart hadn’t just been ripped out of your chest and stomped on.

And now you’re here. Hoping Sam and Bobby will fix this soon, crawling into the empty bathtub to try and sleep. The bed is too warm, too intimate, to inviting of fantasies that will never be reality. Daydreams of Dean’s hands on you, trailing over your skin and setting of little sparks as he maps your body. Those same hands pushing open your thighs, two of his fingers teasing over your pussy, his mouth wrapping around your nipple as he started pumping and scissoring and crooking inside you-

There’s a knock on the bathroom door, and you yank your own fingers out of your cunt, wiping them on the towel as you speak, your voice far too hoarse. “Yeah, Sam?”

“Not Sam.” Bobby grumbles, his voice slightly muffled through the door. “You decent?”

You toss a towel over your body, having long abandoned clothing. “Yep, is everything-“

You cut yourself off as Bobby pushes the door open, his face angled up to avoid you.

“I said I’m decent, Bobby, you can look.”

He grunts, and you sit up a little straighter, making your voice a little firmer.

“It’s weirder if you don’t, you know.”

Bobby nods, his gaze slowly dropping to yours as he sits on the toilet, bracing his arms on his knees. “Sorry.” He mutters. “Ain’t tryin’ to make it uncomfortable. Just not lookin’ to see one of my, uh-“

“I know,” you sigh, leaning your head back on the tile. “I get it. Must be weird seeing Dean as well.”

“Eh.” Bobby shrugs. “I’ve walked in on him with lady company before, this ain’t new-“

“But it’s new with me?” You ask, raising your brows, and Bobby glares at you.

“I didn’t help raise you girl. And you’re just as important to me as those boys, but you’re also a girl. I mean, not a girl, but I don’t got those parts-“

“Jesus, Bobby.” You mumble, bringing your knees up to your chest. “I’m teasing. I know what you mean, I promise, just,” you swallow, shaking your head slightly. “Sorry. I’m tired.”

Bobby rolls his eyes, but his voice becomes a little softer, and far less panicked. “That ain’t nice, kid, you’re gonna give an old man a heart attack.”

“You’d be fine. I know CPR.”

He gives you a flat look. “We both know you ain’t in any condition to give me CPR.”

You wave him off. “I’d call Sam.”

“He wouldn’t hear you, he’s down in the panic room with-“

Bobby cuts himself off, and you roll your head to the side, giving him a bored glare.

“You can say his name, Bobby.”

“Fine.” He grunts. “Sam’s down checkin’ on Dean. He,” Bobby frowns at the air. “He still ain’t listenin’ to reason.”

You hum, hoping Bobby doesn’t notice how you’ve moved the towel between your thighs, just for something. “Reason?”

“We don’t have anythin’ to cure this except, uh, that way.” Bobby mutters. “And he’s still insistin’ we keep him chained up.”

“Ah.” You swallow. “Awesome.”

Bobby says your name, and it’s gentle. Like he’s consulting a child who’s had a nightmare, instead of a grown woman who was just finger-fucking herself in a tub. “You don’t gotta pretend this ain’t hurtin’ you.”

“I mean, it doesn’t feel good-“

“Not the spell.” Bobby says, and you frown at him.

“What-“

“Dean. He’s bein’ a fuckin’ dumbass, and you don’t need to act like he’s not.”

Your voice drops to a whisper. “He’s not what?”

“Killin’ you.” Bobby grunts, scanning over your face. “Rippin’ your heart out and take a big fat shit on it.”

You grimace. “That’s gross, Bobby-“

“Truth ain’t always sunshine and glitter-“

“It’s not the truth!” You snap, your voice suddenly harsh as something wilts and twists in his your chest. “I’m fine! I get it! Dean doesn’t want to do that, and that’s not his fault.”

Bobby leans back on the toilet, holding your glare with his own. “Why do you think you and Dean are the only idjits gettin’ hit by this? Why isn’t Sam humpin’ pillows and leavin’ stains on my walls?”

You feel a rush of heat from that thought—the image of Dean fucking into his hand flashing through your mind and leaving a mark between your thighs—and your voice is almost a squeak. “Because Dean’s the one that got hit?”

“Sam says he was in the line of that bitch’s fire too. But only Dean got,” Bobby makes a vague gesture over you. “This.”

“I don’t-“

“And Sam ain’t in love with his fuckin’ brother, so he was safe.”

You flush, gaping at Bobby for a long, wired silence, and when you speak your voice is a squeak.

“I- I’m, I’m not in love with Dean. I mean, maybe I have a crush, or something, but that’s, that’s not love-“

Bobby gives you a flat, disbelieving look. “You feel safer ‘round him?”

“Yeah, but I-“

“You laugh at all his jokes?”

“Maybe, but he can be funny-“

Bobby mutters your name, shaking his head. “I love that boy like a son, and he ain’t half as funny as he thinks he is.”

You frown. “He’s funny-“

“He can be,” Bobby shrugs. “But his jokes ain’t all winners. And you laugh at every single oneof ‘em. And,” he sighs, rubbing his beard. “He laughs at all’a your jokes.”

“Hey.” You scowl. “I’m a riot-“

“Didn’t say you weren’t. But even you can miss, girl. And he never seems to care.”

“So?” You shuffle on the floor, desperate not to starting grinding on the air in front of Bobby, but getting more and more wet from just the mention of Dean. “We’re friends, friends laugh at each other’s jokes-“

“Do friends get connected by sex spells ‘cross state lines?”

“I dunno,” you mumble. “Never been hit by a sex spell before.”

“You weren’t hit by one,” Bobby snaps your name, starting to sound exasperated. “Dean was. And that’s my damn point. Sam and I, we,” he sighs, giving you a long, confusing look. “We got it. We know what’s goin’ on.”

“Fuck,” you sit up, glowering at him. “Why didn’t you lead with that-“

“Cause you ain’t gonna like it.” Bobby grunts. “It’s an old location spell. Back in the day rich assholes would cast it on their highest eldest sons, so he could find his,” Bobby cringes, his last word pushed through his teeth. “Mate.”

“Mate?” You repeat, letting out a dry, huffing laugh. “What are we, fucking dogs-“

“Soulmate.” Bobby mutters, giving you a look that might have been sympathetic, or kind, or pitiful, but you’re suddenly a little dizzy and can’t really think or see.

“That’s not,” you shake your head. “No, Bobby, soulmates aren’t real-“

Bobby says your name, his voice stern. “You should know better than to say somethin’ like that in our line of work. Sam called Cas, and he said they’re real, but population increases or somethin’ made them ‘logistically impossible’, so they aren’t on the shop line no more.”

“But- But wouldn’t we have like, I don’t know, noticed? If that was true?”

“You shoulda.” Bobby shrugs. “Cas seemed pretty shocked you hadn’t. Said he had assumed you knew, because the pull is like a magnet or some shit. Spell’s only an enhancer, to move the train along.”

“So why-“

“You hopped in right after Dean got back from hell.” Bobby mutters. “Dean’s soul mighta been fucked enough not to recognize you. Spell mighta jumpstarted it.”

“Oh.”

“Yep.”

It’s a few minutes before you speak again, and Bobby waits patiently as you spiral. Down, down, down in your head, trying to rationalize how this could possibly be true. It couldn’t be true. There was no way it was true. Sure, you’ve liked Dean since you first met him, from the moment he introduced himself with a cocky grin, smirk, and fake name. You liked him even more when you called him out on his fake name, and he’d just chuckled, figured out you were a hunter, and offered to buy you a drink. You’d liked him when that drink had turned into a long, sleepless night of only conversation, and when you’d joined him and Sam on the road. And you’d kept thinking of him like that, and you thought of him all the time, but that didn’t mean anything. You didn’t love him. It’s not like you feel better when you wake up in a motel bed and he’s next to you, or a smile always tugs at your lips whenever he so much as looks at you, or the thought of him being in alone or pain makes you physically ill. It’s not like, if he grabbed your hand and told you he was done with hunting—the only life you’d ever both known—then asked you to join him in a boring, easy apple pie life you’d immediately say yes and kiss him, because you’ll go wherever he goes and he’s the only person you’ve ever really-

Oh.

You might be in love with Dean.

You might be soulmates with Dean.

“What, um,” you swallow, watching Bobby carefully. “What did Dean think? Of this?”

“We have told him yet.” Bobby’s jaw ticks, holding your gaze. “We ain’t sure he’ll-“

“Yeah.” You whisper, turning your attention back to the ceiling. There’s a little crack on it. Jagged and split through the white paint, easy to stare at and get lost in. Helpful in pretending this doesn’t hurt like a bitch. “Okay.”

Bobby mutters a promise of at least trying to talk some sense into Dean, but you both know his words are empty. Because Dean won’t believe this. It won’t be a matter of you and Dean, it will just be Dean, believing something like a soulmate could never happen to someone like him. He’ll insist they’re lying, or Cas is wrong, or all of this fucking bullshit.

“You ever wondered about aliens?” He’d asked you once, leaning against the Impala as you lay on the hood, watching him from an upside-down angle.

“Just like, in general?”

“Yeah.”

“I guess,” you’d tilted your head at him. “Why?”

“I dunno, just curious.” There had been another moment of silence, then, “You think they’re real?”

“They have to be right?” You’d reached over your head, grabbing his chin and tilting it up, until he was staring at the night sky. “I mean, look at that, De. It’s huge.”

He’d chuckled, swatting your hand away. “Where have I heard that before-“

“Eat me, Winchester.” You’d rolled your eyes, and his shit-eating grin had grown. “No. Shut it.”

He’d raised his hands in surrender. “Didn’t say a thing.”

“Uh huh.” You’d let your own attention trail up, over the vast darkness above you, splattered in infinite stars that you think—if you really tried—you’d be able to grab and hold in your hands. Maybe offer one to Dean. He’d deserve it.

You were silent for a while longer, you watching the sky, Dean waiting for you to come back to earth, and when he’d spoken again his voice was soft.

“You think you’d want to go? If they were?”

You’d looked back to him with a frown, and found him already looking at you. “What, aliens?”

He’d nodded, and you’d furrowed your brow in thought.

“Maybe. I’ve never thought about it before. I kind of like Earth.” You’d rolled onto your stomach, swinging your legs around to rest in Baby’s open window as you looked down at Dean. “What about you?”

“Nah,” he’d held your gaze, pulling himself up to sit at your side. “Not now.”

“Not now?”

“I would’ve when I was younger, if I coulda taken Sammy with me.” Dean had let out a dry chuckle. “But I’m not that lucky.”

He wasn’t that lucky. Dean didn’t get to be abducted by aliens, because he wasn’t lucky. Because saviors and little lights to guide you forward don’t just drop out of the sky.

But you didn’t drop out of the sky. You’d been on the ground, and tangible, and very, very real.

You feel real, to yourself. You didn’t feel like a possibility, or a myth, or a lie.

And you might love Dean.

And you know that, the longer you don’t get to at least see him, touch him, breathe him, the more you go mad. The harder it becomes to speak to Sam and Bobby when they check on you, the less you allow them to even say the word Dean, because it makes you writhe and moan and everyone just gets very uncomfortable.

So if Dean’s too much of a righteous, noble, self-loathing buttface to do something about this, you will.

You wait until the house is dark and quiet. Until you hear Bobby mutter a goodnight through the door—about an hour ago you’d started whining every other breath and fucking the edge of the bathtub, so Bobby wasn’t coming into the room anymore—and Sam walks in backwards to make sure you’re not dead and have enough food and water. Like you’re a caged animal.

You do feel a little like one. You feel like someone’s sucked everything rational and careful out of your brain and replaced it with Dean. Dean, Dean, Dean, you need him or you’ll die. He needs to need you, or something worse than death will happen.

And you’re willing to risk that, that small possibility of Dean looking at you—bare and wet and pleading for him—and still turning you away, because at least you’ll see him.

You need to at least see him.

It’s shocking easy to sneak around the house. For two seasoned, well-respected hunters, neither Sam nor Bobby seem to wake up as you crawl down to Dean, despite the floorboard creaking under you movements and the downright pathetic whimpers that keep escaping your mouth. It takes all your focus to grab the key to Bobby’s panic room, unlock the door, and push it open.

It’s dark. Pitch black. But you know Dean’s in here, because every nerve is trying to fly off your body and into the shadows. To Dean.

“What the hell are you doing,” Dean groans your name from the back of the room, and you feel molten. “You can’t be here-“

“It’s not your panic room, Dean.” You mumble, pushing yourself up on the wall and fiddling around for the light switch. “I can be wherever I want-“

“Not here.” Dean snaps. “Go.”

You shake your head, and the lights blind you as you flip them on. It takes a moment to adjust—blinking and hugging your body in a desperate play to not leap across the room to Dean the moment you see him—and when you do a high whine escapes your mouth.

Dean looks as feral as you feel. He’s just as naked as you are, just as drenched in sweat and flushed, and—if the proud, massive cock between his legs, standing at full attention and twitching as he scans over you, is any sign—just as aroused.

“Dean.” You whisper. “Please.”

“You need to leave.” He grunts, his fists clenched at his sides. “Now.”

“I don’t want to go-“

“Yes, you do.”

You frown. “You don’t get to tell me what I want, Dean. I want to stay-“

“No,” he hisses, and you might come just from him looking at you like that. Primal and wanting, with a gleam in his eyes that feels like a promise. “You don’t know what you want-“

That gets you to scoff. “Fuck off, asshole-“

“See!” He makes a dramatic gesture, then flinches back from himself. “I, I can’t let you do this. You don’t want me,” Dean mutters your name, running a hand over his face. “The spell wants me. Doesn’t count.”

“Yeah, the spell does want you, you idiot!” You take an unsteady step forward, and he steps back. “Because I want you!”

“No, you don’t-“

“Yes, I do! I need you, Dean, and I think you need me-“

“Doesn’t matter what I need.” He grunts, bracing his body and you take another step. “Go back upstairs.”

“Did Bobby talk to you?”

He scowls. “Bobby’s wrong. That’s- No.”

“Because it’s me?”

“Of course not,” he snaps, and it’s too quick. “Because that, that’s not a thing. People would be runnin’ around, selling soulmates in little bottles if they were real. And we’d have known by now-“

“We do know now.” You whisper, swaying slightly in the middle of the room. “And Cas says-“

“Cas is wrong.” Dean mutters. “I don’t, there’s no way that’s true. Not for me.”

His beautiful, deep eyes look so sad. Glossed over and weighted down of years of that being the truth. That things like that, like this, don’t happen for Dean.

You’d really love to be the first exception.

“What about for me?”

“What are you-“

“What about for me, Dean.” You watch his jaw clench, his nostrils flaring. “Does it get to be true for me?”

He doesn’t answer, and you push on.

“If it’s true for me, it’s you.” You talk another step forward, and this time he doesn’t flinch. “Just you.”

“It’s just the spell.” He mutters, and you don’t think he’s convincing himself. Not when his throat bobs and his eyes darken. “You don’t want me, baby, not really.”

You almost fall over from that. From Dean calling you baby, and saying it the exact same way he says your name. Low and rolling and lined with something soft.

“I do.” You hold your ground, raising your chin. “I want you, Dean Winchester. Fix this.”

He shakes his head, barely a jerked movement, and you start to feel a little faint.

“Dean. I need you to look me in the eyes,” your voice starts to rise, growing pleading and frantic. “And tell me you don’t want me. Say that you wanting me is just the spell, and I’ll go. I promise. I just need to you to fucking say it, Dean, just fucking say you don’t want me or need me or love me-“

He moves before you even realize what’s happening. Almost leaping onto you as his mouth crashed into yours, his hands cupping your face as he walks you back, back, back into the wall and growls down your throat. And you’d been wrong. His hand on you don’t feel like small bursts of electricity. They’re like lighting. Dragging something you hadn’t known existed to the surface, and setting off a storm of need in your body.

“Course I want you,” one arm snakes around your waist, pressing your right into his erection. “Always fucking wanted you. You’re smoking hot,” he starts to kiss over your face, his words slightly muffled against your skin as you cling to his body. “Funnier than I am, and smart as hell. You feel like home and smell so good and, fuck, I’ve lost sleep thinkin’ about how it’d feel to get lost in you. I’d have to be fucking blind and dumb not to want you,” Dean grunts your name, returning your mouth to yours with a painfully soft, gentle, featherlight kiss. “But I’m not-“

“If you say good for me,” you mutter, leaning back to glare at him. “I’ll punch you.” He chuckles, and it’s dry and low, rumbling from his chest into yours. “I’m not-“

“You are.” You whisper, offering him a small, slightly broken smile. You need him to get this. You might start crying if he doesn’t. “You’re good for me. And I want you. I love you.” Something flashes in his eyes, and you don’t care if he believes you. He doesn’t have to believe you. He just needs to get it. “No spell, Dean. I’m here, and I’m yours. Take me.”

Your nails dig into his skin—attempting to leave a mark of him if he turns you away—and his breathing is ragged. Heavy and hot, fanning across your face as he stares at you, just stares at you, why is he just staring at you-

“Dean-“

This kiss is brutal It’s teeth and tongue and bruising lips, like he’s trying to move into your body. His hands are everywhere on you, squeezing your ass and palming your tits, rolling your nipple between two fingers before groaning down your throat when you moan.

“Fuck,” Dean mutters your name, his hand on your ass glides onto your pussy, playing with your folds and flicking at your clit once, twice, three times and you feel fucking high- “So wet for me-“

“For you,” you whimper, nodding stupidly as Dean presses him thumb down on that bundle of nerves, rubbing slowly. “Fuck, Dean, all for you-“ 

“Need to taste you,” he growls, pulling his mouth fully back, watching you grind onto his hand with a dark gaze. “You gonna let me taste you, baby? Let me eat that pretty pussy-“ 

You’ve barely nodded before he’s on his knees, one arm still around your waist to support you both as he dives into your cunt. 

Oh.

He’s good at this. Really, really fucking good at this. You can’t really think anything that’s not Dean, or make any noise that’s not a moan kind of good at this. He’s ravenous and starved, his nose bumping and pressing into your clit in an impossibly mind-numbing rhythm, his tongue plunging in and out of your cunt until your squirming above him, desperate for more.

“Dean,” your hand tug at his hair, and you don’t know if you’re trying to push him deeper or pull him away. “Shit, Dean, I’m gonna cum-“

He groans against you, his eyes opening to watch you come apart above him, and you think he might be getting off on this.

“Please,” you whimper. “God, please, I need to cum-“

Dean bites your clit, and your orgasm crashes through you like a tidal wave. It’s all bliss and relief and a high, bright haze of Dean, and then you’re falling down.

Dean’s pulling you down. Onto his lap as he leans back, moving you to straddle over him as his cock throbs between his legs.

You want to touch him.

You push back on him, just enough for his grip to loosen, and take him in your hand. He’s huge. And pretty. Dicks aren’t supposed to be pretty, but Dean’s is, and it might be because every part of Dean is pretty. Every part of him is impossible pretty, from his cock twitching in your hand as you run your thumb over the slit, to his lidded eyes and parted mouth as he watches you with wonder.

“Shit,” he moans your name, and fuck, even that was pretty. “What are you doing to me-“

“Handjob,” you whisper, placing your free hand lightly on his chest in a silent request for him to lay back. “I think.”

Dean huffs a laugh, leaning back with a smirk. “Ya think? You sure you know what you’re doing with that- Fuck-“

You hum around Dean’s cock, your lips wrapped around the base as your tongue swirls around his shaft, and his groans are sinful. The fire in your corse hadn’t lessened by any means from your orgasm, but it grows unbearable as you move Dean’s hand to your hair and let him guide you up and down. Let him set the pace, moaning when his hips jerk and he hits the back of your throat, and squeezing his thighs in silent reassurance that you’re good. You’re really, really good. You’re grinding onto Dean’s knee as he fucks your face, playing with his balls with your free hand and devouring every bit of slightly slurred praise that falls from his mouth.

“Fucking hell, baby, you always been this good at sucking cock? You’re, shit, you look like a wet dream, look like an angel, fuck.” He hisses at your teeth graze over him. “You look so good like this. Mouth stuffed full of cock, desperate and wet for me-“ You roll your hips against him, and Dean tugs you fully up, smirking at your swollen lips and glossy eyes. “Careful,” he warns, sitting up as his thumb swipes a little bit of drool from your cheek. “When I’m cumming tonight, I’m cumming in you, baby, got that?”

“Yes, please,” you whimper. You’re on the pill anyway. “Dean-“

“C’mere.” He tugs you into his lap with careful hands, scanning over you with a small shake of his head. “Son of bitch, you’re gorgeous. You’re sure you-“

“I’m sure.” You grind against his cock, never looking away from him as the head of him bumps your clit. It goes on for too long, Dean just watching you fuck yourself on his lap with his hands bruising your hips, and you start to whine. “Shit, Dean, need you-“

Dean surges forward, kissing you long and deep and slow, and keeps his brow pressed to yours as he looks down to where you’re moving on him.

“Hold on,” he mutters, and you follow the order without a second thought.

Your arms wrap around Dean’s neck just as he lines himself up, and you almost scream when he pushes into you.

“Shit,” he looks back at you, eyes wide. “Are you-“

“Don’t stop,” you moan, burying your face in the crook of his neck. “Fuck, it feels so good, Dean, don’t stop.”

He nods, kissing the side of your head, and slowly moves into your aching pussy until he bottoms out with a long exhale.

“Gonna, fuck-“ He groans as you squeeze around him. “Can’t do that, baby, I won’t last a minute-

“Sorry,” you mumble against him, playing with the short, soft hair at the nape of his neck. “Didn’t meant to-“

“It’s fine.” He grunts, still not moving. “Just, fuck, you feel so good. So warm,” he groans, pressing his face onto the top of your head. “So tight and warm, feel so good-“

“Dean, please-“

You gasp as he gives one, short thrust upward.

“So good,” Dean growls in your ear, making another small, dizzying movement that presses him right up against that spongey spot deep inside of you. “Ready?”

“Ye-“

You squeal as Dean rises to his knees, keeping himself sheathed inside you as he falls forward, his hand splayed on your back and holding you carefully against him. His face is resting between your breasts, his cock angled so deep inside you it might drive you insane if he doesn’t start to fucking move, and his eyes stay yours as you only watch each other for a long moment.

He’s asking permission. Dean’s not pulling away, but he’s also not moving, because he’s offering you one last chance to turn him down. 

You move one hand to hold his face, wrapping your legs around his waist and squirming around him in silent encouragement.

It snaps something in him. Dean grabs your hand, moves it onto the back of his neck, and lowers you fully onto the ground so you’re caged between him and floor. He scans over you for only a second, a small, cocky smirk crawling onto his face, leans down to give you one last, almost sweet kiss.

A soft moan leaves you as Dean traces his tongue over your lips, and his low growl is the only warning you get before he starts to fuck into you like an animal.

It’s sloppy and wet and loud, skin slapping against skin as Dean abuses your cunt, and fuck you’ve never felt better. You feel full, split open on his cock and right where you belong, alive in a way that seeps right into your soul and ignites your blood into a holy fire of Dean. Groaning your name on your skin and touching you with calloused, big, expert hands. Watching you as you unravel beneath him, scraping your nails over his back and making needy sounds that only spur him on.

You’re going to fly out of your body. Dean’s muscles are ripping above and around you as he fucks you into the floor, and his mouth is mold perfectly onto yours. Neither of you seem to care to breathe, or speak, or do anything but nips and suck and lick at each other. Trying to get impossibly closer, to drag the other over the edge so you can fall with them. You grind up into Dean, and Dean bites your lip. Dean rolls his hips as he bottoms out, making your mouth fall open for his tongue to plunge down your throat, and you scrape and claw as his chest until he groans, and you manage to slip one hand down to play with his balls.

He wins he swats your hand away and starts to rub small, firm circles on your clit. He’s unrelenting, and watching you with an affection that feels a little misplaced for the carnal hunger on his handsome features.

“Always want you,” he mutters your name, pressing his thumb flat against you. “Cum for me, baby.”

Your vision blurs as you find release, and it feels like heaven. Like stars and fire and water and light under your skin, in your blood, like a halo around your head that’s all just the pleasure Dean’s is still wringing from your body. Your pussy is fluttering and gushing around his cock, and it sends him over the edge with a roar, his hips slamming home as he paints the walls of your cunt white.

And when you’re both spent and Dean rolls you over—carefully adjusting you to be right on top of him, his body a barrier between you and the now-cold floor—you feel good. Really, really good. Fucked out and high, nothing trying to burst out of your skin or eat at your stomach. You feel better than you might have ever felt in your whole life. The only warmth in your body is heat you’re trading with Dean, and you feel good.

“We, um.” You trace over his tattoo, looking up at him under your eyelashes. “We should probably talk, or something-“

“Or something.” He agrees, grinning down at you. “Don’t feel like it’s a rush though. Sammy and Bobby will find us in the morning. Right now,” Dean kisses your brow, squeezing his arms around your body. “You’re all mine.”

You can be all his. It’ll be really, really easy to be all Dean, because he hasn’t said he loves you, but he does. You know he does. It lives in how he’s still touching and holding you, still talking to you like you’re his best friend and not a mistake, and running his hands through your hair mindlessly.

And you’ll have a lot to talk about later. A lot to fight about, and fuck about, and laugh and cry and scream about.

But right now you just have to be Dean’s.

And that will be really easy.

End Note: Bobby Singer you are fifty times the father John Winchester could ever HOPE to be.

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

Taglist

@artemys-ackles @ambiguous-avery

[butterymangowrites]

permanent fix

soulmate au + a/b/o

paring: alpha atsumu x fem beta reader

warnings: bullying, dub-con, atsumu is not nice, smut, slight breeding kink, biting, blood, choking, mirror sex, possessiveness, jealousy, alpha rut, atsumu talks shit, dramatic atsumu

word count: 2.2k

english is not my first language. please excuse any mistakes

Born as a beta, you never thought fate would toy with you by giving an alpha as your soulmate. Especially not one like Miya Atsumu, the one whom you went to school through college with and still having to see his face ever so frequently as if he had sworn to never let you live in peace. 

For someone who made faces when seeing the lunchboxes your mom packed for you and proclaimed a beta was weak when you first presented at fifteen, Miya Atsumu couldn’t seem to detach himself from you. 

So when you had a crush on one of your colleagues at twenty five, having his nose in your business as usual, Atsumu knew instantly. 

“Another beta.” Lying comfortably on your couch, Atsumu scoffed. “Predictable.” 

“Didn’t ask for your opinions.” 

“I’m giving it anyway,” he said in a singsong voice, but his face was without mirth. “You can fuck whoever you want, but I’m getting my fix. That’s non-negotiable.”

Oh, yeah. His fix. 

He patted his lap. “Come here.”

Then it all began again. Him cradling you in his lap, hands going all over, lips spilling hateful words. 

‘Weak fucking beta.’ He would say. ‘Even Osamu got an omega soulmate. Makes me jealous as fuck.’ 

But then he would kiss you like the world might end tomorrow, doing everything opposite of what he said. This time was no different. His hot tongue was everywhere he could reach, acquainted itself with yours before leaving a wet trail down your neck. 

You protested when he nipped a little too hard, scared he might leave marks. He did that once. The deep purple hickey you saw in the mirror after he left your apartment scared the shit out of you. A little more force and teeth could have broken the skin, and that thought caused chills to run all over your body. You didn’t want to bear his marks. 

Yet, Atsumu didn’t care. He never did. His hands were now on your buttocks, squeezing hard through your thin pajama bottoms. He moved you to one of his thighs for better concentration. The hands on your butt now rolled your hips back and forth, to the point your moan finally slipped out of your tightly zipped lips and you forgot about the harsh nibbling on your neck.

“Go whore yourself out,” Atsumu whispered. “Like I fucking care.”

Same here, asshole.

You thought, didn’t say out loud. 

Touching each other lifted the heavy weight in the heart caused by the act of not accepting the soulmate bond. Nothing more, nothing less. If not for this calling of intimacy both of you obliged to feel, he wouldn’t be here. You knew that. He said it way too many times. 

Still, your cheeks were licked, your lips were tasted, neck wet with saliva. You felt like a prey about to be eaten every time he was close. Yes, he may not care. But he sure was possessive enough of things that were given to him. 

Whenever you tried to wiggle out of his firm grasp, he tightened his fist. This time was the hardest you ever felt. 

—

In more than twenty years of knowing each other, never once did Atsumu come to you when he had gone into rut. So when he called you two in the morning one week after his last fix, ordered you to pack a bag and tell your boss you would be on leave for a week, you were baffled. It was never more than kisses and touches with him. Your clothes were always intact and on. The idea of that being changed had you flat out saying no. 

That didn’t stop Atsumu from coming to get you one hour later though. When he saw that you did nothing to get ready, his jaw was clenched. A split second later, he packed your bag himself, shoving clothes and toiletries in without any care. You were still in pajamas when the passenger door was slammed closed and he hit the gas. 

—

There were reasons why betas are not for alphas. Physically, they were incompatible. Betas weren’t designed for alpha’s stamina, not to mention one in rut. At one point, you did not care to count anymore how many times you had blacked out. Fading in and out really fucked with your memory. All you remembered was the non-stop pounding, Atsumu’s breath against your face, and his uncharacteristic cooing, praising you as his good girl. 

“Knew you were built for me.” The blond menace pulled on both of your wrists, never stopped his thrusting. “Let me knot you again, okay?” When you shook your head, face wet with tears, Atsumu shushed you softly. “Shhhhh. You can do it, I know you can.”

And you could. But it was not without pain. 

“Shouldn’t have waited this long,” Atsumu said close to your lips. “You almost got away.” 

He talked too much. But it would have been a big fat lie to deny that his words didn’t turn you on. That his vile confession didn’t affect you.

“Bold of you to even think I would let someone else touch you.” He sounded out of breath, closing to his end. “All the effort goes to waste. No no no no.” 

You felt it coming, just seconds before. Then your whole body was taken by the waves of thrills and your whole vision turned white. Atsumu was not your first, but as if he was the harbinger of agony, it hurt when he first penetrated, hurt when he knotted. And when you felt a sharp sting at your sensitive neck, you knew he defied the rule of nature once again by marking you. 

Fruitless. That was what it would be. Betas were not made for alphas. Mating bites did not forge any bond with the wrong person and would fade over time. But Atsumu had always been stubborn. One bite turned into two, three, then countless. All you felt was pain and the wetness of blood before darkness took your consciousness like the many rounds before. 

—

The mating bites faded within two weeks, all except the first mark, proving to you that even biology could not win over destiny. Same went with all other beta-alpha soulmate couples out there after you had done some research. They were rare, but they were there. You shouldn’t have let Atsumu bite you. Should have known better that things could get weird when it came to soulmates. Now, he wouldn’t get off your ass, had the audacity to move his things to your apartment and yours to his, calling you his girlfriend in front of everyone and expecting to see you at his games. 

You didn’t even like volleyball to begin with. And as you watched his magnificent tosses to any players he deemed to have high chances to score, you thought of a way to get out of his clutch. 

He needed an omega, the correct designation he always longed for. Because even with all the protective caresses and the promise to never let you go, Atsumu was still mean. Like going back to the ninth grade when you put makeup on for the first time and he gave you the nastiest comment that made you go wash everything off in the school toilet, his words still stung badly when he chose to weaponize them. 

‘Samu’s mate smells like she needs to be bred.’ He said that nonchalantly one day at Onigiri Miya, sitting side by side with you at the counter where his twin and his mate helped each other with cooking and serving the hungry athletes who were there to celebrate the day’s victory ‘Don’t know how he stands that. So sweet’ 

Hearing that made your conversation with Hinata pause. His steely gaze was the first thing you saw when turning to face ‘your boyfriend’. 

It didn’t end there. For days Atsumu was in a devilish mood, his jabs that you knew most of them were meant to just rile you up for fun had become a real emotional harm. He still fucked you, make no mistake about that. And it was as devilish as his temper. 

‘Too hard, Miya. Too hard.’ You still wouldn’t call him by his first name. 

Veiny hands wrapped snugly around your neck, Atsumu only went faster after hearing that. The bathroom mirror was foggy with hot steam from the shower, but you could see enough. One of your legs was perched on the counter, allowing the view of his cock pistoning in and out of you, your breasts bouncing fast. 

‘Would have been pregnant already if you were an omega.’ The sentence came out coated with his accent, thicker than normal, like he didn’t have full control of how he spoke. ‘But that’s alright. I can take my time with you. We’ll get there,’ he purred. ‘Still, what a shame, huh?’ 

Shame his ass for saying that and not letting you leave. ‘Go fuck an omega then.’

He smirked. Pissed you off. ‘Nah.’ 

As his toss to Sakusa scored a winning point, the loud cheer brought you back to the present. You saw Atsumu eyes staring up at you from the court below and knew what you had to do. 

—

Getting an omega who wanted to spend a heat with Miya Atsumu was easy enough. Sending her up to your apartment where he was already there waiting for you was as simple. You drove away then, not far, stopping at your favorite 24-hour cafe because you needed somewhere to sit and waited for the first feedback from the omega girl. Half an hour later, you got a call. 

The screen showed the female omega’s name. You picked up and said hello, expecting to hear that everything went well and that you could go find somewhere else to sleep for the next five nights.

But you only heard cries. Not of pleasure, just a full-blown crying with hiccups. 

“Hey, are you okay?” you asked, frowning. “Talk to me. What happened?” 

“He—he screamed—at me,” she spluttered, almost incoherently, “and only asked where you were.” 

You cursed quietly, finally able to stop stirring the poor coffee you ordered without any interest in taking a sip. “Where is he now?” 

“I don’t know,” she cried. “He left—after the screaming.” Her voice wavered all the more when she kept on trying to speak. “You had to see him. He looked murderous. There was not even a hello. He straight up shouted at me, accusing me of breaking in. When I tried to explain—mentioned you, his face was all red.” A hiccup interrupted the long babbling. “He said he was married to you and showed me the ring.”

You were not sure what crack Atsumu was on, but there was definitely no ring or marriage. 

The call was still on when you heard the cafe’s door pushed open. And it was as if you saw the devil with your own naked eyes.

Atsumu walked in. 

His strides declared no peace or mercy when he saw you, ignoring the greetings from the two night shift baristas. 

Not wanting to cause a scene, you stood up, didn’t say anything when he put his hand on your shoulder and led the way out. 

The drive was silent. Your car was left at the parking lot near the cafe, you would have to come and get it as soon as you could before the parking fee turned as murderous as him. When asked where he was going, he answered solemnly, “My place. Yours stinks.” 

You just knew it was going to be a long night. 

—

Atsumu was the one who got the car out for you the next morning since he was the one who could still walk without wobbling. The sheets you slept on were rumpled. They reeked of cum. 

You reeked of cum. 

‘You think you’re so funny?’ he asked, knowing you couldn’t answer with his cock occupying your mouth but did it nonetheless ‘You wanted me to fuck her? What was going on in that pretty little head?’ 

He pulled you by the nape of your neck before pushing your head down, forcing your throat to take more of him till you felt the urge to gag. 

‘I thought we had an understanding, baby,’ he said, finally relenting his grip on your head. ‘No whoring yourself out.’ Then he stressed, ‘And no whoring me out. I’m yours.’

‘Do you understand?’ 

You only nodded.

‘Words.’ 

‘Yes, Miya.’ 

‘Atsumu,’ he said, looking like he wanted to throw up. ‘You’re not fucking my brother. Don’t make me imagine that. Call me Atsumu.’

‘Yes, Tsumu.’ 

Looked like you delivered. Atsumu grinned from ear to ear. ‘Good girl. My best girl.’ 

That was last night. 

A warm kiss to the cheek woke you again, must have dozed off after Atsumu left, but those scenes were not a dream. You heard him whisper, 

“I got your car. Parked it at your place.”

He looked like he got a ten-hour sleep while you could not move a limb without feeling sore. Not fair. And the way he looked so good in sheep’s clothing, his wolf’s skin all hidden. Not fair at all.

“Shower.” Your voice was hoarse, but you got the message through. That was good enough. 

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

Soap's second favorite way to indulge himself on you is under you. talk about a front-row seat.

nsfw, rough sex, Soap being filthy and possessive ⬇

he wants to see you touch yourself.

but, frustratingly, you use both hands to keep steady as you ride him. 

you lean back, knees up and feet flat on either side of his ribcage as you work your hips up and down his swollen cock. he's distracted watching it disappear into your hole. your pussy grips him so hard the friction gives you resistance as you bounce.

it's hot as hell. but he's impatient. he snips at you. don't you want to get yourself off already? you look as desperate as you sound, and you sound like you've half lost your mind riding him like this. you want to cum, he tells you, you know you do.

you do what he wants and you'll have no trouble. but ignore his demands and refuse, huffing out something about getting him off first? nah, not happening.

he shifts, one rough hand grabbing where your hip opens into your thigh, and grinds his calloused thumb into your clit to punish you. your legs twitch with the shock, and you let out a long, unsteady sound. with him gripping you and the pleasure making your legs rubbery, you're unable to keep up your diligent pace.

but that's fine. he thrusts up into you languidly. edges you until you're begging.

and then he keeps edging you until you push his hand away from your clit and replace it with your own, rubbing furiously.

he praises you with a mean, smug edge in his voice. you circle two fingers over the twitching bundle of nerves and down the sides of your slit, skimming his cock with your slippery fingers as you keep working him over. working yourself over. you can't quite reach that same brisk pace you rode him before, neurons fried on oxytocin as they are, but-- well. he doesn't mind much if that slows you down.

if anything it just makes him harder. drives him crazy. and when he's ready to take what he wants, to use you for all you're worth, he plants his own feet on the bed and fucks up into you again. 

he breaks your rhythm and tears a wild sound from your throat. grabs your hip as leverage and pulls you down on his cock over and over again, matches his own thrusts, fucks you so deep your vision blurs. grabs the hair at the nape of your neck, tugs down, forces your head back and eyes up, and makes you bare your throat to him. his eyes glaze, head filled with the sound of your pretty voice made wrecked and hoarse by his grip on your hair, and eyes glued to your spasming hole as you rub your clit like your life depends on it.

he eases his grip and his pace once he's fucked you through your climax. but when you come down, you'd better not stop moving that hand no matter how overstimulated you get. or else Soap will put you right back at square one.

(Soap's first favorite way to indulge himself on you is to lace your fingers with his, palm to palm, holding your hands down beside your head so he can maintain steady eye contact no matter how aggressively he fucks you. he won't cum until he knows without a doubt he's ruined you yet again for other men. that's just a silly little thing he's decided he likes hearing you say in bed <3 and no, it's not optional.)

...

more Soap / soulmate Soap / masterlist

see also: Soap is a munch, but it’s not for your benefit

[bluemari23]

inspiration || min yoongi

summary: you had been called to your soulmates studio for "inspiration" and walked into an unexpected but not unwelcomed situation. pairing: yoongi x reader genre: smut warnings: mr tongue technology himself, pussy eating, clothes ripping, face sitting, overstimulation masterlist

To be honest, you're not exactly sure how you got into this position. You were just supposed to come to the studio to help your boyfriend with his mental block. You were just supposed to come and give him inspiration. That was it.

"C'mon baby girl." You looked at your boyfriend, laying down on the couch in his studio. He was motioning you toward him, his hand waving you in his direction.

"Hi baby. What do you need me for?" You can't help but ask him, not sure what inspiration you can be for him and his music. You didn't feel inspirational and was confused by his text message.

"Come here baby. Come sit." You slowly move forward, now noticing the smirk on Yoongi's lips, knowing he was up to something.

Once you make it close enough, Yoongi pulls you forward, towards his face until you have to catch yourself on the top of the couch. You were know kneeling over his chest and had a good idea of what your boyfriend wanted you to do.

"Yoongi, this is your studio. What if someone comes in?" You try to talk your way out of it, not exactly feeling comfortable knowing anyone with the code could come in.

"Don't worry baby." Yoongi groans out as he rips the bottom of your leggings, your underwear now on display. "I locked the door with my phone when you came in. No one will see my pretty baby while I pleasure her."

You don't even have a chance to say anything else before he rips your underwear as well and pulls you to his mouth.

You squeal at the feeling of his lips on you as he groans at the taste of you finally on his tongue.

Yoongi had been having an off day, really. He had a deadline for the song he was working on, and couldn't come up with anything worthy of having the stamp 'Produced by Suga" on it.

He couldn't help but to think of you, knowing his best songs that are beloved by Army were thought of when he was with you. So, he texted you, already coming up with a way to get the inspiration he needed.

Plus, he loved being with you and watching your face when you come on his tongue is his favorite thing.

"Yoongi" You whine out, moving one of your hands to grip at his hair, pulling it as you writhe on his tongue. He only moans at the feeling of you pulling his hair, moving his tongue up your slit to suck at your clit.

"Please please please" You plead, not even knowing what you were asking for, but Yoongi did. He knew exactly what you wanted and always knew how to caress your body to the tune of his inner song.

He moved back a little, giving you a little reprieve before diving back in, licking a long stipe up your slit before moving back down, pressing his tongue against your cunt, in and out while his nose nudged against your slit. He knew you loved when he did this, the stimulation helping you to orgasm.

He helped you move your hips, riding his lips as he tried to prolong your orgasm, loving the sounds you made. He could practically feel your thighs quaking against the sides of his head.

This- this was the inspiration he needed.

Once the overstimulation kicked in, he pulled you back, your tired body now sitting and falling onto his chest from exhaustion.

"Thank you baby. That was just what I needed." Yoongi sighed out, helping you to actually lay on his chest and pulling the blanket he kept on the couch over you.

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Honey Girl.

Synopsis - The Universe shows you your soulmate when it feels like you need them most. When you least expect it, you're given yours - Bucky Barnes. Your Dad's best friend. You can try to refuse it all you like; but the Universe wants what it wants. There's no denying fate.

Pairing - Dad'sBestFriend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au

Age Rating - 18+

Word Count - 5.1k

Warnings - cursing. sexual content towards the end. mild alcohol consumption. age gap. smut in next chapter(s).

Author's Note - part one is finally here!! thank you so much to everyone who asked to be tagged, and who liked and reblogged the masterlist. i am SO excited to share this with you. i've built this world in my head and trust me it is gorgeous - salty ocean breezes, sunsoaked sailboats and billowing white linen shirts. i hope you can lose yourself in my little seaside town with bucky for the time it takes you to read this, just as i did while writing it. i can't wait to write more of this series for you x

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback!) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

Masterlist. Requests. Series Masterlist. The Playlist.

next chapter (two).

Tethering /tɛð(ə)rɪŋ/

An event in which two soulmates are bound together forever. Only occurs when the Universe decides it is time. No sooner, no later.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The gentle ocean breeze gives you a moment of respite from the scorching sun that's beating down. You're half asleep, laying on the cool tile of your balcony when your phone rings.

"Babe! Babe! Babe!"

"Lacie? Are you okay? What's wrong?"

"I am freaking out right now, oh my god. I didn't know who to call. You'll never guess what just happened to me!"

You can guess. In fact, you already have.

Lacie's Tethering. It's finally happened.

You're taught, growing up, that your Tethering is the biggest moment of your life. It shapes who you are forever. Sets you on your eternal path. You're presented with your soulmate in a big display of love and affection and metaphorical fireworks. It's supposed to be magical.

You wish people would shut up about it.

The World seems to be split into two categories - the people that have been Tethered, and the people that haven't.

You fall into the latter.

You're repeatedly told it'll happen one day. It'll happen when the time is right. It'll happen when you least expect it.

You're not sure you ever want it to happen.

The idea that the Universe determines the person you're with forever has never sat right with you. What happened to free will? What happened to personal preference? You believe you should at least have a choice in the matter. It's your future, after all.

Not everyone shares the same sentiment.

"Babe, you still there?"

Lacie's excitement filled voice pulls you back to reality.

"Yeah, I'm here."

"Are you busy? Can you meet me for coffee, like, now?"

You take a deep breath and plaster a fake smile on your face.

"Sure. I'll see you in ten."

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Oh my god babe, it was just incredible! You won't even believe it. There's nothing like it, truly."

You remind yourself quickly that Lacie is your best friend, and that you owe it to her to be happy for her. Personal feelings about soulmates aside.

"Tell me all about it, Lace!" you encourage, grabbing a hold of her hand excitedly.

The blonde girl squeals before shuffling closer to you, pressing her knees against yours.

"Okay, so. Picture this. I'm at my gym, doing my usual routine. I'm wearing my super cute pink Lulu Lemon set, you know the one with the flowers?"

She waits for you to nod in affirmation before she continues.

"So, I accidentally drop a weight on the ground, and it makes the biggest noise. I'm super embarrassed, and I'm trying to pick it up, but it's so heavy. And then, the hottest guy I have ever seen appears. Like, seriously gorgeous."

As much as you despise the whole soulmate thing, you can't deny how happy Lacie seems. She's almost vibrating with it, bouncing up and down in her seat.

"He comes over and picks it up for me, sets in back on the rack. And then he introduces himself, and shakes my hand, and it happened."

"What was it like?" you smile, eager for her to carry on.

"Like fucking magic."

You've heard that before. A million times. From literally everyone. Surely it can't be that magical if billions of people have experienced it.

"Magic?" you prompt.

"It is indescribable, babe. It's like... it's like everything just falls into place. Like everything finally makes sense!"

She jumps out of her chair, hugging you tightly. She's practically sat on your lap in the coffee shop, but neither of you really care.

"So, what's his name? What's he like?"

"His name is Cameron. He's new in town, he just moved here for work. He's a personal trainer, so he's like, super fit. And gorgeous. Did I mention gorgeous?"

"Maybe once or twice," you laugh.

"I'm so happy," Lacie whispers, emotion choking her voice. "I can't believe it finally happened. This is the day I've been waiting for since I was a little girl."

You hug her tighter, and ignore the look you get from the barista.

"I love you," she declares, suddenly serious. "You know that me being Tethered now doesn't change that, right?"

"I know," you confirm. "I love you too, Lace. I'm really happy for you."

You genuinely mean it. Lacie has talked about meeting her soulmate every day since you met her in the 3rd grade. You may have never quite shared her enthusiasm, but you admire her passion. And you adore her, more than anyone.

"So, what now? Are you gonna get married tomorrow and run off into the sunset?"

"I'm choosing to ignore your sarcasm because I know you're using it as a coping mechanism," she tells you pointedly. "And I know that there's a tiny part of you that wishes you'd been Tethered already, so you don't have to deal with everyone talking to you about it."

Jackpot. She's read you like a book.

"No, we're not getting married tomorrow," she rolls her eyes before continuing, "but we are going on a real date tonight. We're gonna get dinner and get to know each other. Isn't this crazy? I'm going on a date with the guy I'm gonna be spending the rest of my life with!"

"That is kinda crazy, actually," you laugh. "What are you gonna wear?"

"It doesn't matter - we're going to be together forever anyway!"

You make Lacie promise to send you a picture of her outfit as you're leaving the coffee shop, which she agrees to with glee. On your way home, you pick up some of your Mom's favourite wine, and prepare yourself for another soulmate based conversation that will inevitably happen when you tell your parents the events of the day at dinner tonight.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Hi, sweetheart!" your Dad beams as you step through the front door of your childhood home.

"Hey, Dad," you greet, allowing him to pull you in for a hug. "Where's Mom? I brought wine."

"Kitchen," he gestures with a nod of his head. "She's making that mango dessert you like."

Walking into your Mother's kitchen is like dipping your feet into a pool on a scorching hot day. The windows are propped open, curtains billowing softly in the wind. The ocean breeze drifts through the room, ruffling your Mom's dress and floating the hair away from her face. The evening sun beams in, illuminating the space with a golden glow. It smells like fresh fruit, mint, and salt water. It's a haven.

"Hi, Mama."

"Oh, my love! Just in time. I was about to call you to see if you were alright."

She makes her way over to you and kisses you on the head swiftly, before walking to the cabinet to grab wine glasses.

"Sorry I'm a little later than I said. I changed my outfit three times - it's warmer than I thought it was going to be."

"I know! Summer, finally. We've been waiting long enough."

She takes the bottle of wine from your hand and pours it into the glasses.

"You've poured four, Mama."

"Didn't your Dad tell you? Bucky's joining us for dinner."

"Oh. No, he didn't mention anything."

"He's back from his vacation. He promised he'd show us all of the pictures he took!"

She grabs the glasses and floats out of the room, leaving you alone in the kitchen, thoughts of Bucky Barnes swirling around like dust in the sunlight.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

James Buchanan Barnes. Bucky.

Your Dad's best friend.

They met a few years ago, when Bucky moved to town. He said he was looking for something quieter, sick of city living. He wanted to slow down a bit, finally take a breath.

He was out for a run around town, getting his bearings, when he stopped your Dad on the driveway to ask about his car. They bonded over their love for motorcycles and vintage vehicles, and the rest is history.

Bucky's been a regular fixture in your life for so long, you can't remember a time before. All you know, is that it was probably a little more peaceful. His boyish charm is infectious, bringing out the youth in your Dad. They're like teenagers, when they're together. Long lost frat brothers, your Mom jokes.

She's got a soft spot for him. Most people do. It might have something to do with the fact he's devastatingly handsome.

It's no secret that Bucky Barnes is a ladies man. He is without even trying. He's charming, gorgeous, funny in all the right ways. He's mysterious, but not disarming. Tough, but not scary. Rebellious, but not a liability. He's a catch.

A catch, with a taste for beautiful women.

Your Dad always jokes that he's the towns most eligible bachelor. You can't count on two hands the amount of women you know that have dated him - but nothing seems to stick. He isn't Tethered, after all.

Some people choose not to date, if they haven't met their soulmate. They wait and wait, and when the time comes, they're complete. Others take pleasure in dating before it happens. Might as well make the most of the freedom, Bucky said once. You can't help but agree.

Might as well make the most of the freedom.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Hey, buddy!" you hear from the hallway. You make your way out of the kitchen to be met with the sight of Bucky, sun-kissed and practically glowing. His hair has a few light streaks from the sun, and the faint freckles on his cheeks are more prominent now. His steel blue eyes meet yours, mischief rife in them.

"Hi, honey," he greets, draping an arm around your shoulders. He kisses you on the cheek, light stubble scratching your skin. You throw an arm around his back and look up at him.

"There's no way this tan is natural," you tease, nudging him slightly.

"It makes me even more gorgeous, doesn't it?" he jokes, winking at you. He squeezes your shoulder before letting go, grabbing a bottle of wine from his bag.

"I brought your favourite, Lori."

"So did I," you echo, laughing.

"Great minds, honey. Great minds!"

"You can never have too much wine," your Mom yells out from the kitchen doorway. "Bring it in here, Buck. I'll put it in the refrigerator."

"Yes ma'am," he obliges, making his way to her with a smile on his face.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Guess what happened today," you begin, in between bites of your strawberry salad.

The three of them look at you intently, urging you to continue.

"Lacie got Tethered."

"How exciting!" your Mom squeals.

"That's a long time coming," Bucky chimes in. You look at him and smirk.

"Tell me about it."

"Here we go," your Dad smiles. "Our two anti soulmate protestors."

"Don't make it sound so political," Bucky laughs. "She's the only one that gets it."

"I've said it a thousand times, and I'll say it again. Just. You. Wait," your Mom lectures. "The two of you don't get it."

"Magic, fireworks, eternal love, blah blah blah. Trust me, I get it."

"She gets it," Bucky echoes. "And so do I. The Universe decides our fate, and we get no choice whatsoever. I don't believe in it, is all. I have no faith in the system. I should get to choose."

"But you feel like you are choosing," your Dad defends. "It didn't feel like it was being determined for me. It's hard to explain."

"It's just so... backwards," you justify. "I can't believe we live in a Universe where we have all the choices in the world, but don't get to choose the person we spend the rest of our lives with."

"It's worked out pretty well for us," your Mom smiles.

And it has. The first thing anyone notices when they meet your parents is that they are undeniably in love. You've never met two people more perfect for each other - which should solidify your belief in the Universe, really. But it doesn't. You can't explain where your lack of faith in it came from. It just appeared one day, and you haven't been able to shake it since. You're grateful every day to have two Tethered, happy, smitten parents. You've seen how hard it is for people with Untethered Mothers and Fathers. The judgment, the uncertainty, the hushed whispers. It sounds unbearable.

"Yes it did," your Dad confirms, shaking you from your thoughts. He reaches for your Mom's hand and kisses the back of it tenderly, eyes never once leaving hers. You look to Bucky next to you, who smiles at you gently. Feelings about soulmates aside, the both of you love these two people sat across the table with all your heart.

"Trust me, sweetheart," your Mom begins. "I know you're against the idea now - God knows I was the same at your age. But when it happens, you'll forget about all of your rebellion. You'll just be happy."

You nod in agreement, praying for the conversation to be over. As if he can read your mind, Bucky pipes up.

"Let me show you some pictures from Italy. I did promise I would."

You shoot him a grateful look before picking up your empty wine glass and making your way to the kitchen for a refill.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The dining room is now lit solely by candlelight, wax dripping onto the white lace tablecloth like condensation on a cold glass. The sun fell asleep hours ago, the four of you enjoying each others company with no regard for time.

"Oh, shit. It's late," your Dad says suddenly.

"You got big late night plans?" you tease.

"We have Clara and Mike's wedding at the weekend, so we're flying out tomorrow. We should probably get some sleep, so we're not exhausted."

Your Mom rises from her chair and kisses you on the head, before grabbing the dessert bowls from the table. Your Dad helps, smiling every time his hand brushes hers accidentally.

"Thanks for coming, kiddo. Your place next week?"

"Of course. I think I'll try that salmon recipe you sent me."

"Can't wait," your Dad assures you, giving you a one sided hug. He squeezes you once before letting you go to grab your shoes.

You can hear your parents saying their goodbyes to Bucky as you tie your laces, smoothing out the skirt of your dress as you stand. They all join you in the hallway, Bucky leaning over to grab his jacket from behind you. Fuck, he smells good.

"Have a great time at the wedding, you guys. Send me pictures, please!" you say as you hug your Mom goodbye.

"We will! Drive home safe, the both of you!"

They shut the door softly, leaving you and Bucky stood on the porch. The evening air chills your bare legs, salt in the breeze sticking to your lips.

"Where's your car?" he asks, looking around.

"Oh, I walked. It was a nice day, and I'm trying to be a little greener. Save the planet, and all," you chuckle.

"You want a ride, then?" he offers, leaning against the side of his truck.

"Uh - maybe," you hesitate, shifting your weight from foot to foot. You feel antsy, for some reason. There's a buzz flowing through your veins, making you a little restless.

"Maybe?" he smirks.

"I just, I'm not sure if I wanna go home yet. It might be that I've had three glasses of wine, but I'm kinda... jittery? Think I need to burn off some energy. Maybe I'll walk home."

"Like hell you will," he grumbles.

You quirk a brow in confusion.

"It's dark, and all those college kids are in town on their break. I don't trust 'em."

You fight to keep the grin off your face. You weirdly like it when Bucky gets protective. He's always so calm, so relaxed - it takes a lot to rile him up. He looks hot with a clenched jaw.

"Why don't we go somewhere?"

"Where?" you ask tentatively.

"I don't know," he thinks for a second. "How about the beach?"

You smile, gazing at him with a twinkle in your eyes.

"I fucking love the beach."

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The ocean waves break the shore steadily, the repetitive pattern calming you both. You're sat on the sand, grains slipping through your hands where you're pouring it out through your fingers. The light of the moon reflects off the surface of the sea, illuminating the abandoned cove. It's just you, Bucky, and the night sky.

The alcohol in your system has evened you out, warm buzz keeping you sheltered from the chill. Bucky's stretched out next to you, strong arms folded underneath his head. His shirt rides up slightly, exposing a slither of sun kissed skin. You pretend not to notice his Adonis belt, or the little trail of hair that leads down into his waistband.

The silence is easy, comfortable. You don't get to hang out like this often, just the two of you. It's nice.

A notification on your phone breaks through the tranquility. You both flinch.

"Sorry," you mutter, checking the screen. "It's Lacie, telling me about her perfect date."

He chuckles lowly at your tone, sitting up to look at you.

"This is hard for you, isn't it?" he asks. "You hate the whole soulmate thing, but you like seeing her happy."

Bingo. It's like he's read your mind.

"I don't know why I hate it so much" you confess quietly. "It's a part of life. I can't avoid it. I just think - what if... what if I'm like, the exception, or something? What if I never meet my soulmate - or - what if I meet them when I'm like, seventy? That happens, you know! And then I'll be fucking cursed to spend my entire life feeling like this."

"And what is this?"

"Hopeless. That's what this is. I just feel pretty fucking hopeless."

You're not sure why you're baring your soul to Bucky tonight. You could blame the wine, but you know that's not what it is. Maybe it's because he seems to be the only one that understands.

"Me too," he whispers.

You whip your head around to stare at him in shock. He laughs at the look on your face, and continues.

"You're young - you have time. I'm forty in a couple of years. Every single one of my friends is married to their soulmate - except for me."

You bite at your lip nervously, but refuse to tear your eyes away from his steel blue ones. His face is lit by the glow from the moon, and it takes your breath away for a second. He looks almost ethereal.

"You always act so... unbothered. I didn't realise... I guess I just, I didn't -" you try to gather your thoughts before continuing. "This fucking sucks, huh?"

He laughs with his whole chest, and you're convinced the sound is so special, so rare, that you should bottle it. Sell it as medicine. It'd cure anything, you're sure of it.

"Yeah, it does," he agrees with a chuckle. "It's the waiting around that's the worst part. The unknown. It could be minutes, it could be decades. I just don't know."

"At least for now, we have each other," you joke.

"Every cloud has a silver lining, huh?" he teases, nudging you with his shoulder.

You allow your weight to press into his side a little, leaning in. He's warm, and he's familiar, and in this moment, he understands you better than anyone else in the world.

"We'll be okay, honey," he murmurs. "It'll all work out the way it's supposed to."

You close your eyes, and allow his words and the breaking waves to calm your nerves. Bucky wraps an arm around you, and all the tension melts from your muscles.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You're not sure if it's the honest conversation, or the brisk ocean breeze, but you've sobered up in record time. Your body registers this, and sends a shiver down your spine.

"You cold?" Bucky asks you. "You wanna go home?"

"Not yet," you whisper. "Not yet."

He shrugs off his worn brown leather jacket and slips it over your shoulders. It smells so strongly of him that it makes you dizzy. Bucky settles back down in his original place, returning his arm to where it was draped over you. His rough fingertips rub patterns into the material that now covers your arms, and you wish, for a fleeting moment, that it was your bare skin instead.

"You been working on anything new recently?" he enquires in a hushed tone, careful not to ruin the atmosphere.

"I made a damn good batch of macarons yesterday," you reply, beaming smile etched across your face. "Raspberry and lemon. I'll bring you some, next time I pass the Garage. You're gonna love them."

"You know, I think the only reason I ever get Mechanic of the Month is because you bring by all of your sweet treats."

You laugh melodiously, and the sound makes Bucky's heart stutter in his chest without warning.

"Happy to be of service," you tease. "I take requests, too, if you ever want something specific. Just let me know."

"You're the best, sugar."

You sink into Bucky's hold a little, daring to rest your head on his shoulder. When he doesn't stop you, you exhale, and relax even more.

"Are you working tomorrow?" he asks.

"Nope. You?"

"Nah. I'm going sailing, finally. It's been way too fuckin' long," he grumbles. "Your Dad's usually my right hand man, but he'll be in Ohio. You wanna come?"

The idea of laying on the deck of a boat in the blazing sunshine with a shirtless Bucky Barnes sounds like heaven. Who could say no to an offer like that?

"Yeah, of course. I'll bring a picnic, if you like. It's the least I can do."

"Sounds perfect," he replies, squeezing your shoulder.

Suddenly, he rises to his feet, extending a hand out to you. You grab it, and he pulls you up, the both of you shaking sand off yourselves.

"It's late, and dark, and a little cold. You ready to go?"

You nod your head, and make your way over to his truck, ignoring the heat that blooms over your chest when he opens the passenger door for you before his own.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Thank you, for tonight," you say as he pulls up in front of your apartment building.

"Thank you," he replies, killing the engine. "It's nice to have you back, you know. Wondered if you were gonna finish college and stay out there in California. Thought we might not see you again."

He almost sounds... relieved. The idea that he might have missed you if you didn't return effects you more than it should.

"I liked it there, but... I don't know. My family's here. I'm only twenty three. I've got time to move around the country. I missed this place too much when I was away."

"Never thought I'd hear you say that," he chuckles.

"I know, trust me. They do say absence makes the heart grow fonder."

"Yeah, they say a lot of fuckin' things," he jokes.

Bucky swings his door open, hopping down from the drivers seat. He makes his way over to your side, holding out a hand so you can jump out.

"Careful," he warns. "It's higher than it looks."

You grab his hand, and step onto the metal sill. Your foot slips slightly, sending you tumbling down and forward, out of the truck. Luckily, Bucky catches you, one hand in yours, other on your hip.

"Woah, easy. You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good," you breathe.

He places his hands on your cheeks and cradles your face, searching for any signs of distress. You place your palms over his, silently reassuring him.

And then, it happens.

Warm, golden, molten electricity surges through your veins, lighting up each and every one of your nerve endings. Your surroundings explode into glorious technicolour, everything suddenly brighter and more vibrant. It feels like your heart is being ripped out of your chest, only to be replaced by one that beats in a slightly different rhythm. There's flowers blooming in your ribcage, new life happening inside of you. You catch eyes with Bucky, expecting to see his stormy blue ones looking back at you. Instead, all you see is your future.

Vivid, flashing images of Bucky Barnes fill your mind, each one of them tinted with a warm, rosy hue. You feel like you're being reinvented. Your skin is alive, hyperaware of the way Bucky's palms are still gently cupping your cheeks. Your fingertips tingle with anticipation where they rest on his, itching to touch every inch of him. You feel as if the oxygen has been stolen from your lungs, and replaced with love.

Your knees are the first to buckle, the weight of the moment taking you down. You hit the ground, and so does Bucky, his palms not once leaving your face. You're both kneeling on the warm concrete, ocean waves providing a distant soundtrack. Blood is rushing in your ears, and you wonder for a second if you're about to pass out. You squeeze Bucky's hands so hard, it's a miracle you don't break his fingers. He squeezes back, eyes locked on one another.

After what feels like an eternity, you both break out of your reverie. You lean forward, resting your forehead against Bucky's, both of you panting.

You're trying to catch your breath unsuccessfully. You move one of your hands to rest on Bucky's chest, right on his heart. You swear the steady beat of it spells out your name.

He mirrors you, and moves his own hand to rest above your frantic heart, the other still glued to your cheek. You both breathe, in and out, trying to match each other. When you finally do, it's as if time stops. It's just you and Bucky. One heartbeat. One soul.

You break away from him to look into his eyes again. They look different, you think. He looks different.

He gazes back at you, cheeks flushed and chest heaving. The moonlight dances off your faces, illuminating the moment both your lives changed forever.

"It's you," he breathes in disbelief.

A laugh escapes your chest, surprising you both. He chuckles with you, and before you know it, the both of you are in hysterics, sitting on the sidewalk at three in the morning.

"Of course it's me," you giggle. "The two people that hate soulmates, Tethered together. You couldn't write it."

Bucky grins at you, clutching at his stomach.

You both take a breath, and realise your surroundings. Bucky gets up first, heaving you up by your arms. He towers over you, suddenly close. Not close enough, you decide. Never close enough.

You lunge forward and crash your lips to his. Bucky instinctively wraps one arm around your back, moving his other hand to hold you by the back of your neck. He tastes like salt and spearmint and every kiss for the rest of your life.

Bucky presses himself into you, attempting to tangle your bodies together. He wants to feel every inch of you against his skin, willing you to come closer. He aches to climb into you, sew himself into your ribcage. He'd be content to live there, beating your heart, forever.

You whine, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, exploring eagerly. You tilt your head back, and fist your hands into his shirt, plastering yourself to his front. He shoves his thigh in between your legs, the rough denim a welcome contrast to your soft skin. You buck your hips forward, and the friction is so delicious it makes you dizzy. You've never been kissed like this. It's almost feral. You're both surrendering to your fates, giving in to the animalistic urges coursing through you.

A seagull caws on a nearby street lamp, and the sound makes you both jump. You suddenly realise your scenario. Your Dad's best friend, who also happens to be your soulmate, has you pressed against his truck in the street, kissing you like he's running out of air and you're his only oxygen source. If it goes any further, you'll both get arrested for public indecency.

"Fuck, sugar," he murmurs against your mouth. "My pretty girl. My honey."

"My soulmate," you whisper.

The reality of it comes crashing down like a tsunami, drenching the both of you.

Bucky kisses you again, gentler this time. The tenderness makes you want to cry.

"What do we do now?" you mumble, fear coating your voice.

He senses your trepidation instantly. He feels it, actually, right in the front of his chest. It's like you suddenly share one body. There's no guessing, anymore. He knows exactly how you feel.

He takes a deep breath, trying to settle his building anxiety. He knows that if he stays calm, you'll stay calm. That's how Tethering works, right? He has to keep it together for the both of you, despite the panic that's rising in him, vibrating in his bones.

"How about... how about we both go to bed, get some sleep - and then we go sailing, later on today, just like we planned? And no matter what, we take everything one step at a time."

"One step at a time," you repeat, attempting to pacify you both.

"We'll figure it out," he reassures. "I know we will."

You find the will to step apart, which proves harder than you thought. It's like Bucky's an anchor - fastening you to peace, to happiness, to serenity. The more distance you put between your bodies, the more unsettled you feel. When you're not touching him, it's as if everything becomes unsteady, more difficult. You feel like you're on a rogue sailboat, battling the waves, threatened to be thrown overboard. Bucky is your lifevest, your lighthouse in the dark night. You're not sure how you're supposed to live your life any more than two feet away from him at all times.

You breathe, and smooth down your dress, running your fingers through your hair. You reach out and adjust Bucky's shirt where it's been wrinkled due to your tight grip.

"Goodnight, sweetheart," he murmurs, fingers tangling around your own.

"Goodnight, Buck," you echo.

He leans in to press a chaste kiss to your lips, savouring the taste of your cherry lip balm. He wraps his arms around you, unable to resist. Bucky breathes you in deeply, smiling uncontrollably. Nudging your nose with his, he murmurs gently against your mouth.

"My honey girl."

tag list <3

@lillytracy6996 @securegorgon @roostersforevergirl @povlvr @tilltheendofthelinepal9950 @val-writesstuff @t-t-hello @dreadfulxives18 @1deadpool26 @abbygraceasd @nyutasgirl @mavrellover91 @myloveniall @winterslove1917 @f-this42 @skewedcherries @floralwsloki @noisesinthedark @kandis-mom @black-cat-2 @harrystylesandthegoobs @vladsgirlxx @h0nestly-though @arienotari @nash-dara @alesabisou @wandaneedstherapy @galaxy-dusk @justherefortheficandsmut @pedropascalsleftfoot @cremebruleequeen @ladifreakingda @cjand10 @buggy14 @avengers-fixation @blueberrybambi @beautiful-loserr @evan-peters-wife @llamazarecoolaf @ace-27749 @hinata7346

[sunsburns]

kiss of life (ii.)

pairing: luke castellan x aphrodite!daughter reader

kiss of life masterlist

summary: i actually suck at writing summaries but basically this is part two of part one of that soulmate au fic i posted a week ago lol

—or: luke castellan is being haunted by kronos and... well, you.

word count: 6.42k

warnings: sorry for any spelling errors, i haven’t checked yet, suppperrr angsty, luke castellan pov as he's slowly being corrupted by kronos, long reading time, descriptive injuries, blood, pre-tlt, luke is stubborn and a dick, loser!luke, annabeth smacking some sense to luke, grover being an icon, reader is lowkey unreliable tbh... cliff hanger (again... lmfao sorry)

a/n: part two!!! thank you guys for all the love on the first part! i am so grateful for everything and i love reading all the comments and reblogs. i hope this one doesn't end up flopping lmfaooo. i honestly wanted this to be a short angsty fic but i got carried away and now i'm planning a whole multi-part fic for this, phew. anyways enjoyyy <;33

At eighteen, Luke was cursed with nightmares. 

They clawed at the edges of his mind, threatening to unravel the fragile front of peace that he had fought so hard to maintain. Each night, he would awaken drenched in a cold sweat, the echoes of his tortured dreams lingering in the corners of his mind like a haunting melody.

The Hermes cabin, once a sanctuary from the outside world, now felt like a prison, its walls closing in around him with each passing moment. The moon, a silent witness to his torment, cast its ethereal glow through the window, illuminating the slumbering forms of campers. Some were children of Hermes, like himself, bound by the tenuous ties of blood and kinship. Others, however, were unclaimed, their parentage shrouded in mystery and uncertainty.

And as Luke lay awake in the stillness of the night, a sense of loneliness washed over him like a tidal wave, drowning him in a sea of doubt. In the depths of his troubled sleep, he could feel the tendrils of darkness closing in around him, threatening to consume him whole. And try as he might to deny it, he knew that his nightmares held a deeper significance, a harbinger of events yet to unfold in the shadowy pits of fate.

His nightmares were callings. A taunting voice would echo through the corridors of his mind, its insidious whispers weaving a thought of deceit and manipulation. It masqueraded as a voice of reason, a beacon beckoning him towards a destiny that promised demigods everything.

At first, Luke dismissed it as nothing more than the ramblings of a tortured soul, the byproduct of his own restlessness. But as the whispers grew louder and more insistent, he could no longer ignore the chilling realization that they were something far more sinister—a call to arms, a summons to embrace his role as a harbinger of the new world.

The nights he wasn't shaking from night terrors, he was tossing and turning at the thought of you. And he didn’t know what was worse. He couldn't escape you. The haunting image of you lingered in his mind even during sleep — your lips, your eyes, your skin, your voice, and that shared scar and your demise.

But at least, you'd given up on him by then. Your persistent efforts to reach out to Luke gradually dwindled into nothingness. Though you were still everywhere, a shadow that seemed to torment his every move, you no longer gave him even a fraction of your attention.

Gone were the days of you seeking him out, your footsteps no longer echoing in the halls of Camp Half-Blood in search of him. You refrained from asking for Chris's help, no longer burdening him with questions on Luke's whereabouts. The notes you once left behind were now relics of a time long past, their words fading with each passing day.

And as the full moon rose once more over the waters of the lake, you no longer waited by its shores.

Luke turned in bed, his mind restless as he tried to shake the image of you. He pulled the covers tighter around himself, seeking comfort in the warmth they provided, but the chill of unease still lingered in the air.

His gaze drifted across the row of beds, each a testament to the diverse personalities that inhabited the Hermes cabin. The floor was strewn with a chaotic array of sleeping bags, toys, and discarded clothing, while a collection of rocks adorned one corner near the closets, and drawings adorned the walls.

Despite the usual chaos that reigned during the day, the cabin now lay quiet and still. The children of Hermes, along with the unclaimed children and the ones of minor gods, had finally settled into the embrace of sleep. 

But amidst the calm, a sense of unease gnawed at Luke's consciousness. He couldn't shake the feeling that had settled over him after he noticed the empty bed and the slightly ajar door. 

Luke pushed back the covers and rose from his bed. His footsteps echoed softly as he made his way toward the empty bottom bunk, hoping not to wake anyone. The sight of an old penguin stuffed animal discarded at the foot of the bed made him edgy. His eyes trailed to the traces of blood splattered on the hardwood floor, stark against the dim light filtering through the cabin windows.

With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Luke picked up the toy, its soft white and black material now stained with crimson. Clutching it tightly in his hand, he made his way out of the cabin, the urgency of his steps echoing in the stillness of the night.

He knew all too well who the missing camper was – five-year-old Penelope, one of the newest arrivals to Camp Half-Blood and possibly one of the youngest campers. Found wandering alone in the woods near the camp hill just a week ago, she had been brought to safety by a group of fellow demigods on a quest. Luke couldn't shake the resemblance she bore to a younger Annabeth, with her wide eyes and insatiable thirst for knowledge. He wouldn't be surprised if Athena claimed her as her own one day–that is if he ever found her.

Luke's worry for Penelope weighed heavily on his mind, a knot of anxiety tightening in his chest as he combed through every inch of camp. The traces of blood he discovered fueled his unease, each droplet a stark reminder of the dangers lurking just beyond the safety of the camp's borders.

In his search, Luke traversed familiar paths and hidden corners, his footsteps echoing in the quiet stillness of the night. He scoured the armour, the climbing wall, and the camp store.

Luke had known all about campers disappearing, whether it be on a quest or to escape and try to live a normal life with humans that never really lasted long enough as monsters would dwell within the shadows outside of camp. 

It was in the dim glow of the kitchen lights that Luke finally caught a glimpse of Penelope, perched on the counter in her pyjamas, her hair adorned with two loose pigtails. A sense of relief washed over him at the sight of her safe and sound, yet it was short-lived as he noticed she wasn't alone.

His hand hovered over the door, hesitating as he listened to the soft murmur of conversation from within. With a steady breath, Luke pushed the door open ever so slightly, peering through the crack to catch a glimpse of Penelope. And you.

You, who looked older than when you first met in the infirmary. There was an air of maturity about you, a gracefulness that hadn't been there before. Your features seemed more refined, your presence commanding attention in a way that spoke of inner strength and resilience. Luke couldn't help but notice how your beauty had blossomed, surpassing the standards of mere mortal allure. It was a beauty that seemed to defy classification, uniquely yours yet undeniably captivating.

Despite this, Luke sensed a shift in your demeanour—a resignation, perhaps, to the reality of his ignorance. You had lost any hope you once harboured for him. His guarded nature would forever keep you at arm's length. And while part of him knew that this was for the best, a small, almost imperceptible part of him couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret.

For in the crossroads of his heart, amidst the shadows that threatened to consume him, there lingered a faint glimmer of longing. The thought of being intertwined with someone who could offer solace in his darkest moments, who could bring light to the depths of his despair, held an undeniable appeal. And as much as he tried to deny it, the chance of you approaching him once more tugged at the fringes of his resolve, tempting him to let down his guard and allow you closer than he ever dared to imagine.

"So, you wanna tell me what you're doing up this late?" You approached Penelope with a gentle smile, a cookie in your hand as a peace offering. 

Your words hung in the air, gentle and coaxing, as you tried to draw Penelope out of her shell. Luke watched from the shadows, his gaze flickering between you and the young camper, a sense of admiration stirring at how you spoke to Penelope.

Penelope hesitated, her gaze shifting between the cookie in her hand and you. 

"You don't know?" You persisted, your voice a soft murmur that carried a hint of playfulness. You settled beside Penelope on the counter, your posture was relaxed as you leaned in closer to her. "Is it... a secret?" you whispered.

Luke noted the subtle change in your demeanour, the way you seemed to adapt effortlessly to Penelope's shy nature. It was a side of you he hadn't seen before, one that resonated deeply with him.

As Penelope nodded in response to your question, you continued, your tone gentle and reassuring. "Let me tell you a secret," you offered, holding up your pinky finger as a symbol of trust. "I am the best secret keeper in this camp. I pinky promise."

After a moment's hesitation, Penelope tentatively reached out, her tiny finger linking with yours in a hesitant pinky promise. A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

Penelope murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "I got hurt."

"What?" You gasped in genuine concern, your eyes widening as you shifted your attention to the young camper. "Can I see?"

Penelope nodded silently, her arm outstretched towards you. Luke observed from his vantage point, his heart twisting with worry as he noted the faint hint of red near Penelope's elbow.

You took Penelope's arm into your hands gently, your touch tender and reassuring as you rolled up the sleeves of her pale pink pyjamas. Luke couldn't help but notice the familiarity of those pyjamas, a subtle reminder of Annabeth's kindness and resourcefulness in making Penelope feel at home.

"Oh, wow, that looks like it hurts," You remarked softly, your brows furrowing in sympathy as you retrieved a first aid kit from the nearby cabinets. "You're handling it very well," you praised Penelope, your tone gentle and encouraging. "So brave of you."

Penelope watched you attentively as you began to clean her wound, her small frame tense with discomfort. "I don't feel brave," she admitted quietly.

"No?" You glanced up at her, "why not?"

"I miss my mommy."

Her words were tinged with a sense of longing that struck a chord with both you and Luke.

Luke chewed on the inside of his cheek, his thoughts drifting to his own longing for his mother. Penelope's admission resonated with him deeply, reminding him of the ache that never truly faded, no matter how many years passed, no matter how deep he tried to bury it. 

It was a sentiment shared by every demigod at camp, a silent ache that echoed through the cabins and training grounds. Yet, it was a pain rarely spoken aloud as if verbalizing it would make it all too real, too unbearable.

The yearning for a parent, for someone to fill the void left by their absence, weighed heavily on each camper's shoulders. It was a burden they carried silently, masking their vulnerability with bravado and determination. But for Penelope, the longing was raw in its innocence.

At just five years old, she was too young to fully comprehend the extent of her emotions. She couldn't grasp the complexities of her situation, the world of gods and monsters that surrounded her. All she knew was the absence of a mother's embrace, the absence of a comforting presence to soothe her fears and wipe away her tears.

It was a pain she didn't deserve, a burden too heavy for such a young soul to bear. The gods, in their arrogance and indifference, seemed oblivious to the lives they had shattered, and the pain they had inflicted upon their own children.

"Yeah?" You responded gently, "How much do you miss her?"

"This much," Penelope replied, her small hands spreading wide.

"Wow! That's a lot," you remarked, a sombre note underlying your tone as you processed Penelope's words. After a beat of silence, you shook off the heaviness of the moment and mustered a smile for her. "There we go. All cleaned up," you announced cheerfully, pressing a bandaid onto her elbow.

Penelope's smile widened in response, a glimmer of gratitude shining in her eyes as she kicked her feet. In a quiet voice barely above a whisper, she murmured her thanks to you.

"So, you wanna tell me how you got hurt?"

"I don't know." This had been the most Luke had ever seen Penelope talk, and while her voice was still timid, the words slipping out hesitantly, she seemed to confide in you. "I woke up because my arm hurt."

"The cut was just there?" You asked, and when she nodded, you hummed sympathetically. "...I get those too, you know."

Penelope's eyes widened, "You do?"

"Yes," you affirmed with a soft chuckle. "A lot of people do. You get them from your soulmate. Did your mom ever tell you about soulmates?"

"Sometimes."

"Well, a long time ago, humans used to have four arms, four legs, and two faces," You explained.

"What?"

"I know, right? Super freaky. So freaky that Zeus decided to split them in half. So, now we have two arms, two legs, and one face."

"What happened to the other half?"

"That's our soulmate. Our other half. And Aphrodite gave us a gift to help us find our soulmate." The smile that had adorned your face slowly waned, "Every time you get hurt, your soulmate gets hurt too."

"Is that why you have a cut on your face?"

The question lingered, hanging in the air like a whispered secret. Luke held his breath, his gaze fixed on you, waiting for your response. But instead of answering, you reached out to Penelope, a bittersweet smile gracing your lips as you guided her off the counter.

"Let's get you back to your cabin."

Your words were gentle, a soft reassurance for Penelope's sake, but Luke could sense the undercurrent of sadness that ran beneath them. As you led Penelope away, Luke's heart ached in a way that felt so familiar yet foreign at the same time. It burned the same way it did when he returned from the quest when he hated the world and everyone in it, but this time, the only person he could find himself hating was himself.

He retreated from the door, clutching the stuffed animal in his hands. He felt a fleeting reminder of the times he would hide from the monsters with Thalia.

Luke's mind swirled with discordant emotions, each thought a whirlwind of uncertainty. He knew he didn't deserve your answer, didn't deserve the solace of your words. He had made it clear too many times to count that he never wanted a soulmate, never wanted you.

But despite his protests, despite the walls he had built around his heart, Luke couldn't deny the tug that pulled him to you, the hunger in his soul that refused to be ignored. It was a longing he couldn't shake, a yearning that whispered of a connection he dared not embrace. Knowing that keeping you away was the only way to protect you from the darkness that lurked within him was what kept him sane.

"Luke?"

The sound of his name tore Luke out of his thoughts like a violent gust of wind. He spun around, finding you standing on the porch to the kitchens, Penelope at your side. She held your hand, a small beacon of warmth and light in the dimness of the night. 

It seemed too perfect, too surreal, and Luke couldn't help but feel a pang of disbelief. Were you trying to kill him? It had been too long since the last time he spoke to you, let alone stood so close to you, and here you were, the epitome of what a demigod should be, even if you were still in the dreaded bright orange camp shirt.

"Hey," he managed to say.

You continued to descend the stairs, each step cautious and deliberate. "What- uh, what are you doing up?"

"I was actually looking for Penelope." Luke motioned to the girl hiding behind your legs. When he caught her eye, Penelope grinned and let go of your hand, darting over to Luke and jumping into his arms. He lifted her easily, a small smile tugging at his lips as he handed her the stuffed toy she had left behind. 

"Oh." You hummed, "I didn't know you're a Hermes kid?"

"I'm unclaimed," Penelope chimed.

"For now," Luke's voice was gentle as he held Penelope in his arms. "And what were you doing up?"

"I was looking for a bandaid. I got lost." Penelope's words were punctuated by a soft yawn, and she nestled her head against Luke's shoulder, her exhaustion evident in every movement.

You hesitated, your gaze shifting to meet Luke's. "I found her by the canoes... near the dock."

The silence that settled between you felt heavy, suffocating almost as if it threatened to engulf you both. Luke found himself wandering back to the memories of you waiting for him at the dock during the summer nights and the regret that weighed heavily on his heart for never approaching you. He remembered the countless times he stood among the trees, watching you from afar, paralyzed by his own insecurities and fears.

Were you waiting for him there tonight? 

No, you couldn't have.

Guilt gnawed at him, threatening to consume him whole. "Listen, I-"

"I'm gonna go." You cut him off abruptly, your voice carrying a hint of tension. "Counsellor duties and all. I've got cabin checks in the morning so... you know, I gotta print papers... and stuff..."

Luke frowned at your lame excuse. "It's midnight."

"It's never too early to start now." You huffed defensively. "Bye, Penelope."

"Bye," Penelope mumbled sleepily, her hand lazily waving in your direction as you walked away, disappearing into the darkness of the night and the trail leading to the Aphrodite cabin.

As they made their way back to the Hermes cabin, Luke held onto Penelope tightly, feeling the weight of her small body in his arms. The night air was cool against his skin, and he couldn't help but feel a pang of shame for the unease he noticed in you earlier. He wanted to say something, to bridge the gap that seemed to have formed between you, but the words remained trapped in his throat.

Once they returned to the warmth of their cabin, Luke moved with a careful grace, mindful not to disturb the sleeping campers around them. He gently placed Penelope back on her bed and tucked her in. But as he began to step away, her small hand shot out, wrapping around two of his fingers. Luke froze, eyes wide with surprise.

"Luke?" Penelope's voice was barely above a whisper, but it cut through the silence of the cabin like a knife.

"Yeah?" Luke's voice was equally quiet.

"I think your soulmate is really cool." 

Penelope's words hung in the air, a simple statement that carried more weight than he could have ever anticipated.

Seven hours later, the memory of your face lingered in Luke's mind like an unshakeable ghost. Tossing back and forth in his bed, he tried to rid himself of the image, but it clung to him like a shadow. Each time he closed his eyes, your face flashed before him, haunting his thoughts. Even when he turned away, the spectre of Kronos lurked in the depths of his subconscious, a reminder of the choice that still loomed over him.

As morning broke over Camp Half-Blood, Luke found himself seated at the breakfast table, surrounded by the hustle and bustle of his fellow campers. Annabeth's presence brought a brief distraction.

She slid into the seat in front of him during breakfast and gave him a strange look, slightly out of breath from the morning rush, a half-eaten apple in hand.

"Hey," she greeted him, her voice carrying a note of concern. Pausing to tie back her braids, she studied him intently. "Who you looking for?"

Luke's response came too quickly, "No one," he replied, his voice strained. Thankfully, Chris had left earlier because he was in charge of the climbing wall in the morning, he wasn't there to tell Annabeth that Luke had been looking for you. His eyes scanned the sea of faces in the dining hall, a futile attempt to catch sight of you amidst the crowd. He felt pathetic. "What's up with you?"

Annabeth raised her brows. "Archery? Together? Remember? Or did you forget?"

"No. I didn't forget."

She only stared at him, skeptical.

"What?" he asked, "why do you keep looking at me like that?"

"Oh, I get it," Annabeth's smirk hinted at a newfound understanding, her eyes sparkling with amusement. She let out a laugh, the sound echoing through the dining hall, as she shook her head and rested her chin on her hand. "How long are you planning to keep this up for?"

Luke frowned, confused.

"This entire act you have with... you know," She didn't need to say your name for him to catch on. "It's getting out of hand, no?"

"I..." Caught off guard by her directness, Luke hesitated, unsure of how to respond. Choosing to play dumb, he feigned innocence. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Right." Annabeth's knowing look pierced through his facade. She was always too perceptive for her own good. Fixing him with a narrowed gaze, she gave him a playful kick under the table, the impact enough to draw a startled reaction from Luke. With a mischievous glint in her eyes, she took another bite of her apple before teasing him further. "Well, Grover said you're killing yourself."

"What?" He blinked at her, taken aback, "I'm not killing myself. Grover's just being dramatic."

"I don't think so." She said, slowly, carefully forming her words. "I mean, if I had a soulmate..."

Luke's defences bristled at the mention of soulmates, a topic he preferred to avoid. "Is this all you wanted to talk about?" 

"I'm allowed to worry, "Annabeth reminded him, her words tinged with a gentle insistence. "Family, remember?"

The word 'family' carried weight, a reminder of their shared history and the bond they had forged over the years. It was a phrase Annabeth often employed to coax Luke out of his shell, to encourage him to confide in her. When they were younger, 'family' meant everything to Luke, thanks in no small part to Annabeth's influence.

"You don't need to worry," Luke assured her, though uncertainty gnawed at the edges of his resolve. "I know what I'm doing." But did he? Luke longed for the simplicity of a time before he met you when the idea of having a soulmate seemed like a distant fantasy. Now, every decision he made, every scar he bore, carried weight, knowing it could impact you in ways he couldn't comprehend.

"The least you can do is get to know her before she leaves."

Her words struck a chord within him, prompting Luke to cast a discreet glance around the dining hall, searching for you amidst the bustling crowd again.

"She's leaving?"

"Not forever, "Annabeth clarified with a chuckle, "Just on a quest. Search and rescue. Nothing fancy."

"...How do you know this?" he said after a moment.

"Chiron told me," Annabeth shrugged nonchalantly. "He also told me to tell you that the ceremony is tonight. I hope that doesn't kill you."

It did kill him a bit. At least, it felt like it did. Luke Castellan moved through camp with a sense of urgency, his strides purposeful yet tinged with a hint of apprehension. His fingers, calloused from years of wielding weapons, throbbed with a dull ache with the burn from the bow and arrow. 

Shoulders tense, skin prickling under the relentless glare of the sun, he scanned the bustling campgrounds.

The weight of his bow rested heavily on his shoulder, the familiar weight offering a semblance of comfort amidst the chaos. With practiced precision, he counted the arrows in his quiver, his movements fluid and sure. 

Then, he heard it—the sound that drew him like a siren's call. Your voice, lilting and laughter-filled, cut through the clamour of the camp, pulling him toward you like a magnet. There you stood, leaning against the doorway of the Hephaestus cabin, a clipboard clutched to your chest as you exchanged banter with Atticus, the skilled swordsmith whose craftsmanship had forged Luke's sword.

There was something different about you today, something delicate, more approachable than he had ever seen before. Last night, with Penelope, you had worn a similar expression—gentle, caring—but it was a side of you that Luke had never been privileged to witness. With him, you had always been guarded, reserved, as though afraid that he would cut or maim you.

As you scribbled something onto your clipboard, Luke found himself intrigued by the way your smile softened. It was a stark contrast to the confident facade you often wore, and for a moment, Luke felt a pang of guilt for pushing you away so soon.

Unbeknownst to you, you were drawing closer to Luke with each step, your path inexorably leading you toward him. Part of him craved to reach out, while another part hesitated, unsure of how to talk to you after all this time.

"Hey," Luke finally managed to utter as you drew near, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

You paused, a hint of surprise flickering across your features as you registered his presence. "Hi?" Your response was tentative, laced with a hint of confusion. After a moment's hesitation, you glanced down at your clipboard, "I'm not changing my rank on your cabin. I know three is low, but I was being generous."

A ghost of a smile tugged at Luke's lips. He was all too familiar with the chaotic nature of Cabin Eleven, where overcrowding was the norm and taking turns on the sleeping bags was treated as a game. "No, no. I just..." He trailed off, suddenly realizing he hadn't thought through the purpose of seeking you out. "I think we need to talk."

The confusion in your expression mirrored his own, and for a moment, there was a palpable sense of uncertainty hanging between you. "Talk?" you echoed.

Luke nodded, his gaze meeting yours earnestly. "Yes."

"You want to talk...? To me?" 

"I hope it's not that bizzare."

He tried to smile for you, but it felt wrong. Luke couldn't shake the weight of unease that settled in the pit of his stomach. He knew all too well that he hadn't been the embodiment of an ideal soulmate. In his mind, there lingered a pervasive belief that you harboured nothing but hatred towards him, something that you made obvious with every interaction between you two.

He wondered if this was the way you felt during the days he avoided you. 

Luke had noticed the shift. There was a calculated recklessness to your actions, a deliberate disregard for your own well-being that bordered on self-destructive. You stubbed your toe on roots and table legs, tugged too hard at your hair, and scraped your knees. You started to pull your punches while sparring with Clarisse, just enough to ensure that he felt the sting of every blow. You never blocked a hit in the face, a twisted satisfaction in the knowledge that your pain mirrored his own. Together, you would limp into the infirmary, bloodied and bruised where you'd be grinning far too wide, barely offering an ounce of guilt when Luke held ice to his face.

You lowered the clipboard from your chest, letting it rest against your side as you faced Luke. The warm rays of the sun filtered through the dense foliage above, casting dappled shadows that danced across your features and forced you to squint against the brightness. The noise of children's laughter and the sound of feet pounding against the earth filled the air.

Your voice cut through the noise, "You've made it pretty clear that you want nothing to do with me, Luke," you began, your words carrying the weight of unspoken hurt. "You can't blame me for being surprised."

As you began to walk toward the next cabin, Luke fell into step beside you, "Can you just give me a chance—" 

"I think you're too late for that."

"I know, I just—" Luke's words faltered, his thoughts tumbling over one another in a desperate attempt to articulate his feelings.

"I have nothing to say to you," you declared abruptly, stopping in your tracks and turning to face him. Luke skidded to a stop just in time, his gaze meeting yours as you regarded him with a mixture of sadness and frustration. "Seriously. I understand, okay? Did I come on too strong? Maybe. Yeah, I'll admit that" you acknowledged, your expression softening slightly. "Maybe coming to you hours after your shit quest was stupid, but I gave you space when you asked—"

"I just wanted to wish you luck on your quest," Luke interrupted, his voice gentle yet tinged with a hint of remorse.

With a quiet "Oh," you stepped back, your eyes momentarily averting his gaze. Were you embarrassed? Were you disappointed? Did you want to fight? 

"Sorry," you mumbled, your voice tinged with uncertainty. "Thanks. I'm, uh, I'm seeing the Oracle after this. So... not technically a quest yet."

"It's your first one, right?" Luke's voice softened, an unspoken understanding passing between them.

"If you're worried about getting another scar, don't worry, I doubt it's anything dangerous," you reassured him, though your words held a hint of hesitation. There was a fleeting moment where your gaze lingered on him as if expecting a sudden change in his demeanour, but Luke remained still, his expression unreadable. "I just need to find Eros and go from there."

"Eros?" Luke's pace slowed, curiosity dancing in his eyes as he raised his brows in interest. Yet beneath the surface, a seed of annoyance sprouted, tendrils of jealousy winding their way through his thoughts. Your quest sounded far more intriguing than his own, and a bitter brew of envy churned in the depths of his stomach. Despite his inner turmoil, he attempted to play it off with a forced chuckle. "Has Cupid gone missing?"

"Apparently," you muttered bitterly under your breath, the resentment palpable in your tone. Luke sensed the edge to your words, though he pretended not to notice.

You sighed, "Is this conversation going anywhere? I really need to finish these cabin checks. I'm busy enough as it is."

Your words held an unspoken plea for him to leave, and though Luke understood, a pang of disappointment nagged at him. He couldn't entirely blame you; after all, he'd been an ass for months.

Both of you hesitated just outside the door to cabin eight, and Luke could feel your eyes on him. When you began to step away, his hand shot out, wrapping around your wrist. You froze, eyes wide with surprise.

“I also wanted to thank you,” He said, words rushing off his tongue.

“For what?” you asked.

“For last night.” He wasn't sure why he brought it up, why he felt like he needed you to know. "With Penelope."

"It was nothing," you said, voice barely audible. "We gotta look out for each other, right?"

Then, you left, you hurried up the short staircase to the cabin door, barely sparing him a glance before knocking. From his place, Luke could hear someone welcoming you into Artemis's cabin. He watched you until the door was shut behind you, vanishing you from his sight.

As the ceremony approached, the hues of twilight painted Camp Half-Blood in a golden glow, a serene yet foreboding atmosphere enveloping the surroundings. Luke's unease mounted with the setting sun, casting stretched-out shadows that seemed to carry something unnoticed. He couldn't shake the image of the figure from his nightmares, its monstrous visage haunting his thoughts with each passing moment. Yet, amidst the creeping darkness, there was an allure to the unknown, a temptation that beckoned him; its words, its promise of seeing the truth.

His gaze remained fixed on the white marble archway, half-expecting the nightmare to materialize at any moment, its twisted form emerging from the shadows with outstretched fingers. However, it was you who appeared, ascending the steps with graceful determination. Your presence seemed to dispel the shadows, bathing the surroundings in a radiant glow that eclipsed the fears that had once gripped Luke's heart. You were a blinding vice.

"Didn't think I'd see you here."

A sudden jab to his side sent him recoiling, a sharp pain shooting through his ribs. Luke winced, his gaze flickering to you as you flinched, subtly reaching for your own side. Quickly diverting his attention, he focused on the girl who had spoken.

Clarisse arched a brow at Luke, a smirk dancing on her lips. "Jumpy."

"Give him a break," Chris interjected, joining Luke's side and draping an arm over his shoulder. "Luke had a rough night, he lost a kid."

"Is that so?" Clarisse's grin widened. "And Chiron doesn't know? I'm assuming he doesn't otherwise, he wouldn't have picked you for this."

Luke scoffed and crossed his arms, "I'm the best swordsman at camp."

Clarisse's sarcasm was palpable. "Oh, I don't doubt it. The most humble, too," she retorted, unfazed by his glare. "But let's face it, a search and rescue isn't exaclty your thing anymore. You're more of an action kind of guy. You live off the glory of victory. Chiron knows that."

She was right, Chiron did know that. Which was why he rarely requested Luke to stand in unless there was a catch. Then, the flames in the torches flickered to life, and silence enveloped the candidates. Each demigod chosen by Chiron swiftly took their place, standing tall and resolute by a marble pillar, eager to showcase themselves as the prime choice for the quest. Anything for Kleos. Anything for glory.

Chiron nodded, his gesture sharp and decisive, as he placed a firm hand on your shoulder before addressing the assembly. 

"The Oracle has confirmed that this quest is a search and rescue," he stated, casting a brief, confident glance in your direction. "One where you will use all your best efforts to bring Eros back to the safety of Mount Olympus and restore the lost balance. I'm sure you know where to find him." His gaze then shifted to the rest of the candidates. "Here, I have selected some of our most compelling candidates from which you will choose one to join you on your quest, ensuring your success. Annabeth Chase, Atticus Brang, Chris Rodrigues, Clarisse La-"

As Chiron listed the candidates, you carefully evaluated your options, your eyes calculating. In the dim torchlight, Luke could just discern the thin line etched across your face, stretching from the end of your brow to your-

"I choose Luke."

The ensuing silence felt like something they could all drown in, leaving everyone stunned. Even Annabeth raised her eyebrows in surprise, though there was a glint of amusement in her eyes as she spotted Luke's bewilderment. Surely, he must have misheard. There couldn't possibly be any way you had chosen him, could there?

Chiron turned to you, his tone measured. "Are you sure?"

You never shifted your gaze from Luke, who refused to meet your eyes as he stared fixedly at the pillar across from him. Yet, the clenching of his jaw, whether from anger or annoyance or something else, was enough to elicit a satisfied smile from you.

"I'm sure," you affirmed.

taglist: @pleasingregulus , @weasleylovers , @telliette , @jarofshells , @jess-fae , @s0urw00lf , @srvbryn , @justanotherkpopstanlol , @coryoskywalker , @simplyjake , @girlyp-0-p , @aquangxl , @lovebug0 , @number-onekidqueen , @mxtokko , @patitotodd , @gloryekaterina , @simpforsunwoo , @ladyslytherin7 , @criesinlies , @mashiromochi , @quackitysdrugdealer , @jadahxx , @maraschinocherry3 , @trovailleangel , @daliscrim , @wicca-void , @girljakeperalta , @kurtcobaingirlie , @yourlocaldelusional , @elisa20beth , @lifeonawhim (lmk if you wanna be added <3 pls make sure ur tags on on! <3)

reblog to support your writers!

© sunsburns.tumblr 2024. all rights reserved. unauthorized copying, translation, or claiming of my writing or any works as your own is strictly prohibited.

[vivalabunbun]

As We Are, We Will Be

Summary: A nonsensical question is proposed in one singular moment between a stoic and stoic face in one singular universe.

Word Count: 9k (It was supposed to be short and sweet-)

Tags: Alhaitham X Fem! Reader, Smut, NSFW, Fluff, a lot of fluff, slight angst, soulmate au, slow fic, established relationship, married life, Soft! Alhaitham, attempts at comedy, mentions of aging, slightly jealous! Alhaitham, mutual pinning, soft sex, vanilla, safe sex (wrap it up), riding (cowgirl), fingering, slow sex, making love, really bad expatiations of scientific theories and math, just two nerds in love.

Authors Note: Happy belated birthday and Valentine's Day to my favorite dendro nerd. A continuation of this piece, one I hold dear. A thought experiment based on nothing more than the feverish delirium of love.

It was just for a moment. 

A mere pasting instance in the contentious momentum of time when a glimmer caught your eyes in the muddled chatter of a crowd, a silver shimmer like starlight.

Interrupting your contemplation as your eyes impulsively search for the source.

A late morning on a Saturday, the markets and stalls were lively with families replenishing a week's worth of groceries. Bodies veering and easing through the bustle of the busty streets.

The wide breadth of life that moved all around you. Like a collection of small dots within the vastness of a universe. 

But amid the vast collection of blurry faces were the flicker of silvery locks refracting the late morning light. Originating from a pair, an elderly lady and an elderly man, their aged hands intertwined. 

Time had made her marks upon them, and gravity had pulled down on their wrinkled faces. Yet, the ends of their lips were pointed toward the sky. The corners of their eyes wrinkled as their gazes held each other's faces. 

From their view, do they not see the starlight hue of their hair? Instead, do they still see the vibrancy and youth of their locks which age had stolen from them? 

The image of each other reflected in their irises, was it from a time before the hands of gravity pulled on their creased skin and bowed bones? Would you ever be able to find out? 

“I wasn’t aware you had a hobby of people-watching.” A baritone voice ghosts over your ear. 

Jolting your head to your right, you come face to face with the interruption. Or perhaps, your mind finally registered Alhaitham’s presence just off to the side of you. His arms were weighted down with various bags. 

Oh, that’s right, the markets and stalls were lively on the weekend with families restocking groceries for the upcoming week. You and Alhaitham were no different. 

Glancing up at his ashen trestles and then scanning back at the starlight locks of the elderly couple, and then back to your husband. 

“Hmm, not quite. Just noting the fact your hair is the same color as an old man’s, Haitham.” You catch the subtle twitch of his brow. 

“Is that so? I hope you are aware you’re not immune to the inevitably of aging, wife,” Alhaitham returns your jest. 

“Well, with your hair color and grumpiness, I’d say you’re already halfway there.” 

“I needn’t expound on your equivalent levels of grumpiness, it won’t be long before your locks share the same ashen hue.” 

“I guess that’s why we get along then, dear husband.” 

“That’s one theory,” he huffs, a simple tone lacking any bite.

You pan your face back toward the crowd, partly because it’s getting harder to hold the neutral position of your lips, partly because your curiosity aches for an untold conclusion. 

However, when your gaze returned to the ever-bustling sea of people, the pair of starlight hues were nowhere to be found. It was regrettable, but expected, the elderly couple were nothing more than a pair of strangers in a crowd full of unfamiliar faces.

They were just a brief scene that disappeared into the moving tides of people. 

Leaving you with your unresolved musings. 

“Is there anything else we need for the week?” 

Alhaitham’s voice reels your consciousness back, swiftly you check the crinkled slip of parchment within your hand. Scanning down the list of written items, all with a neat little line crossed through their immaculately penned letters. 

“It looks like we got everything we need.” You tuck the list into your pocket. 

“Then it’s best we get home before our groceries are spoiled by the heat.” Alhaitham readjusts the bags in his hands. 

A hum takes its place as your response. Pivoting your body in the direction of your shared home. From the corner of your field of view, his strides were paced to coincide with your shorter steps. 

Studying the numerous bags occupying his hands, you can’t help but think it’s quite convenient to have someone as robust as your husband. Maybe it's these weekly grocery runs that are the secret behind his physique. 

Discreetly, your hand slowly slips between the gap of his arm and body, linking your elbows together. So that your frame and his could withstand the push and pull of the crowd’s contentious momentum. 

The neutrality of your lips had long slipped away, softened by the familiarity of his warmth. Even as your eyes were pointed on the path ahead, you had an inkling that a similar occurrence was mirrored on his lips as well. 

An inquiry your curiosity didn’t need to peek to resolve. 

 

That ache for an untold conclusion morphed into a new musing by the afternoon. 

The silver shimmer from that elderly couple’s hair truly was like starlight. Perhaps that’s the correlation that steered your thoughts down this winding path of pondering. 

Everyone, from those taking their first stumbling steps of youth to the slowed cane-assisted tramps in their golden years, is technically billions of years old. Or more accurately, the atoms and minerals in everyone are billions of years old. 

The carbon in muscles, the calcium in bones, and the iron in blood were all forged in the hearts of bygone stars. When those bright beacons burned out they exploded in one last finale, expelling those materials across interstellar space. Stardust that found its way here. 

Here within you, and here within the slow breaths of the man in front of you. 

After being around for billions of years, does stardust ever get exhausted? 

That would be a sensible explanation for why Alhaitham had snuck away amidst hanging up freshly washed laundry. 

His tall frame stretched the expanse of the couch as his starlight lashes were shut, shamelessly relishing in a nap under the streams of sunlight trickled in from the window. 

Squatting down you observe the guiltless expression plastered over his resting face, still deep in the trenches of sleep, a small huff passes through your lips. Well, this morning you did have him carry all the groceries from the market back home.

Your husband does deserve this little nap.

Trailing your eyes down his neck you note the lack of a pillow, then as your gaze travels further you note the absence of a blanket as well. Internally, your mind tsks at this forgetful habit of his. 

Although his body and yours still have youth coursing through your veins, it doesn’t mean they’ll remain as impervious as they are now later down the line, especially if preventative measures aren’t taken.

Like having a pillow to support one’s neck, or a blanket to prevent chills from plaguing the body. 

Standing back to full height, you retrieved the missing artifacts, returning with a plush pillow and light comforter.  

Even when his head was momentarily lifted to make space for the pillow, and when the spare comforter was draped over him, Alhaitham didn’t stir one bit. At times you can’t determine if he’s a light sleeper or if his stubbornness refuses to leave the plain of dreams. 

It’s a true wonder of life how Alhaitham’s able to sleep so soundly at night given his extensive naps. 

The vivid sunlight illuminated patterns upon his cheeks and trestles, causing the ashen strands to dazzle in their refraction of the afternoon light. A sight your eyes just couldn’t help but be enraptured by. 

Maybe you could blame the warmth of the sunlight, or maybe the serenity of this quiet Saturday afternoon, or perhaps even these fickle inquiries about his naps for the yawn that left your lips. Now might be the prime time for some research. 

Lifting up the comforter just enough for an opportunity to slip through, your body settles in the space right against his. It’s crowded on the couch, the cushions unprepared for two bodies to occupy its entirety, the open edge looming against your back.

Even after all the shuffling and pressing against his dozing frame, your husband didn’t budge a bit. 

Leaden lashes still shut and lips set in that all too familiar line, chest rhythmically rising and falling in time with yours. The very image of unperturbedness under the blessing of sleep. 

“You really are like an old man.” 

At that mere jab, the corners of his lips tugged down while his eyes remained closed. A quick slip that confirmed your earlier suspicions. 

“Who knew you were so talented in acting, Haitham,” you snicker. 

A muscular arm soon enveloped your form, further pressing you against his chest as if to silence any more sardonic quips from entering his ears. 

It was quite the challenge to stifle those giggles before they could erupt from your lips. Peeking up, there’s an ever-so-subtle lift at the corners of his mouth. An express which yours mirrored. 

Studying the details of the lips just a breath away, a new musing worms its way into your thoughts:

 When the hands of gravity and time start to pull down on his skin and yours the same, leaving wrinkles and creases in their wake, will the edges of his lips still curl like this? 

Would yours mirror the same? 

A second yawn sneaks past your lips as your lashes grow heavier with each fluttering blink. Claiming a corner of the pillow to lay your head upon, the seconds between each subsequent blink grew longer and longer until your lids were too heavy to lift. 

Perhaps the stardust in your bones was exhausted, craving a short rest in his warmth. 

--------------------------------

There’s something against your back and your legs are tangled in something, sensations which gradually alert your dozing sense back from the fog of slumber.

At first, you only had the strength to peek open one lid, then promptly shut it. But in the nothingness behind your eyelids, something was halting your limps from stretching the weariness out from themselves. 

You tried again, this time fluttering both sets of lashes apart ever so slightly. There’s a dry film coating your throat and mouth, feeling the impressions of the couch cushions and bundled comforter imprinted into your skin.  

What time was it?

Blinking away the haze of sleep just enough to notice how the golden rays of a star were missing. A gray overlay was plastered over the living room despite the ticking clock hands displaying that it was late afternoon.

Peering back through the window behind, observing the congregating insipid clouds blocking out the azure sky. 

A sure sign of rain despite the morning forecast. Rain… wasn’t there something left unfinished on the clotheslines outside? The groggy recollection of responsibilities creeps into the forefront of your mind. 

The reign of your weary limbs slowly returns, and your legs languidly attempt to stretch out from the reveal they were caught in. However, their movements only caused a pair of longer limbs to ensnarl them further.

Alhaitham’s legs promptly caught yours, stifling any prospect of escape. 

Your displeased whine was responded with a disgruntled groan by the man keeping your body locked against his. 

Wasn’t your back looming just about the edge of the couch when you fell asleep? So why are you in this position now?

Your body wedged between the plush backing of the couch and his solid frame, the comforter swaddling you also didn’t aid in your immobility. Brawny arm draped over your waist, halting your feeble squirms at freedom. 

“The laundry,” you mumble.

“Later.” A blunt interjection from a groggy voice. 

“It’s going to rain.” 

“Less than a 30% chance.” 

“Haitham…” 

Your husband simply burrows his head deeper into the leveled pillow, likely an attempt to leverage the cushy material to block out your grievances. His ashen lashes still stubbornly shut, much to your displeasure.

“Alhaitham.”

No fluctuations in your volume nor tone, but it was enough for one teal eye to peek out from under ashen lashes. Trailing up to a subtle frown to the furrow between your brow, then finally meeting your unamused stare.

“Laundry,” you try again. 

A silent stare down, one stone face gazing upon an equally stoic face, like an immovable object pressed against an equally immovable object.

Which one will defend their title of most stubborn today? 

His chest expands with a deep breath, grasp enclosing around your waist before his teal gaze shamelessly vanishes behind closed lashes. Robust frame pinning you further to the back of the couch as he continues to ignore your huffy floundering. 

“Release me, don’t you dare-” 

Your grievance was soon muffled by a gentle hand pressing your cheek into his palatial chest. A move that stupefies the irksomeness bubbling within until it falls defeated into placidness. 

“Whether it be now or later, they’ll be clean regardless, it’s quite comfortable right here.” The resonance of his voice vibrates in his chest. 

You respond with a humbled grunt. In terms of strength you’d always lose to your feeble husband, wouldn’t you? 

There’s no point in peering up, for the pleased satisfaction of his resting face would bring a sour taste to your tongue. Thus, you merely adjust your limbs, coiling your arms around to his back and pulling his form closer.

It’s crowded on the couch, it’ll be troublesome if Alhaitham were to slip off the edge if his back were to stray any further. 

At this distance, entangled so closely together, the soft beats of his heart in time with yours like a rhythmic lullaby beckons the heavy to return to your eyelids.

The gentle drumming of his heartbeat coaxes out a final sigh from you, lashes descending down as your vision dims back into the realm of slumber. 

Slow breaths and heartbeats homogenize into a tender duet, tranquil enough to distract from the sporadic pattering against the glass and gradually increase in consistency. 

A less than 30% chance of rain doesn’t mean that there’s a greater than 70% chance of no rain. It’s merely a statistical probability of 0.01 units of more precipitation at a given area in the given forecast area in the time period specified. 

Known as the precipitation probability, calculated based on two factors: 

The forecaster's certainty that precipitation will form or move into the area X The areal coverage of precipitation that is expected, then multiplied by 100. 

Thus, if the forecaster were 90% certain that 30% of the forecast area would receive rain, then the forecast displayed on screens would read as a 27% chance of rain.

A crucial bit of information that seemed to have slipped his mind midst a quiet afternoon. 

A troublesome miscalculation Alhaitham tsks at internally as he wrings out the pillowcase into a sink before tossing it back into the washing machine. Button-down shirts and blouses, wrinkled from the process of twisting out as much rainwater as possible, sat in damp piles awaiting their turn to be rewashed. 

As he measures out the detergent he can hear the rattles and clanks of the pot and pans from the kitchen. A late dinner in preparation, a task which was supposed to be his this week.

When he woke up to the pattering of rain drumming against the window panes, the afternoon long gone, it stirred an ever-so-sinking pit of dread. Second only to the unamused stare of his wife as she replicated an overconfident statement:

“Less than a 30% chance, Alhaitham?”

How unfortunate it all was, that the area where this quaint house resides was part of that 30% of the forecasted area.

Teal eyes watch the bedsheets whirl and fumble as they spin in the wash, contemplating the circumstance and further action. 

There is only one spare bedding set in the closet, so it’d be wise to allow you to have it for tonight as all the sheets and covers get rewashed and dried.

Your bed is about the same size as his, so two bodies wouldn’t have an issue fitting. At this rate, the two of you just slept in whichever bed was the most convenient. 

However, given the current state of things, Alhaitham wonders if he should prepare himself to brave tonight on his bare mattress with a flimsy spare blanket and pillow.

He might as well return to the couch for tonight if that was the case. 

The accumulation of all the years of science, mathematics, and research, Alhaitham wonders if there was ever a bright mind who came up with a formula to calculate how displeased one’s wife is.

What would be the factors plugged into the equation? And how accurate would it be? 

More specifics needed to be gathered, something the man couldn’t do in the refugee of the laundry room. Thus, Alhaitham must brave a journey into the kitchen. His slipper-clad footsteps are slow and methodical as the kitchen appears from around the corner of the hallway.

Sights honed in on your back as you stood by the stove, a rich aroma wafting through the air. 

Sleep still dusted your hair, evident in the few unruly strands sticking up erratically on your head, you made no attempt at fixing it. One hand is too occupied with stirring the pot on the stove, and the other set upon your hip.

Your stance wasn’t exactly tipping the scales in his favor. 

Cautiously, Alhaitham made his way to you. Stopping just a few paces as your eyes peer over your shoulder, stoic gaze halting him in place just a few paces away. The faded imprint of the crumpled blankets and couch cushions on your cheek.

His hand twitches with the urge to run his thumb along the impressions, but rationally warns him of the consequences. 

“The laundry?” No discernable tone in your voice. 

“Everything has been collected and wrung out, I’ll rewash everything tomorrow.” It’s best to answer your questions this time. 

“Hmm, they were out in the rain for quite a while now. They were dripping out onto the floor when you brought them in.” 

“I’ve mopped away any rain and mud tracked between the back door and laundry room.” Teal eyes quickly checked the aforementioned area to ensure they were pristine before returning to you. 

“Hmm.” You turn back towards the stove. 

The soft ticks of the clock accompany the waning drums of raindrops against the glass, the kitchen hood whirring as a ladle continues to stir in a pot. A quiet lull engulfed the home. Treading on the side of caution, Alhaitham inhales deeply. 

Without opening the box, one will never be able to confirm to fate of Schrödinger's cat. 

“What’s for dinner?” 

“Hmm? Well, it’s raining tonight, what better to eat on a rainy night than some Sabz Meat Stew, no?” 

He’s careful to not sigh too audibly, lest he goes to bed with a stomach half-full of instant noodles and that miffed stare of yours.

Alhaitham decides to hold his tongue as teal eyes continue to watch you add more spices to the pot. Studying how nicely the apron is tied around your waist. 

But it wouldn’t be wise of him to stand so close when the fabric of his shirt was still damp with rainwater transferred to him by the soaked laundry and sky. 

His chain of thought was interrupted by the chimes of your phone on the countertop, catching your eyes as well as his to peek at the over. A certain name is displayed across the screen. It’s as if the hands of fate wanted to throw more salt into his face. 

Bahram (Manager)

It’s a Saturday night, for what reason would an employer need to contact an employee so late?

Alhaitham’s focus shifts to your gaze which is still honed in on the screen. A bitter tinge crawls up the tip of his tongue, threatening to spoil his appetite. Perhaps, he wouldn’t mind settling down in his bare bed with just a spare comforter without dinner tonight.

“Can you reject the call for me? He can wait until Monday to get me to resolve whatever he messed up,” you scoff before rolling your eyes back to the stove. 

Swiftly he swipes to decline the call, let your voicemail remind Bahram of the concept of ‘off time’. The phone whirs again right after the first rejection, but he simply swipes decline again.

Pushing the device away with a bit too much satisfaction in his veins. 

Glancing back at your frame, he lets out a sigh as he relents. Resting his head into the crook of your neck, careful to leave a bit of distance between your bodies and to not hamper your shoulder’s movement. 

“Hm?” You hum expectantly. 

“It was my oversight tonight.” A string of words a bit unfamiliar on his tongue, but stubbornness hasn’t been in his favor tonight. 

“And?”

“I’ll be more cautious regarding naps.” 

“Hmph.” 

The lull returns, him resting his head on your shoulder and you continuing to watch over the stew. Teal eyes on you and your eyes on the stove. Until your shoulders raise with a deep inhale. 

“Go get changed out of that wet shirt then set the table, this bastardized version of ‘soup’ will be ready in 20 minutes.” You reach for a skillet just off to the side. 

He hums this time, the liberation from treading in suffocating lull tugs at the end of his lips. He surmises that laying his head against you for a few moments more won’t be so consequential. 

The patter of raindrops still splattered against the glass panes of the window, drops which warped and blurred the scenery beyond the glass. Not that there’s any scenery to look at, not with the dreary clouds crowding the sky. 

A heavy sigh huffs through your nose, curling onto your side as you adjust your pillow. 

A filling dinner, a warm shower, and soft comforters. Factors that should contribute to a restful night’s sleep, or at the very least make your eyelids weary with the weight of lethargy.

Yes, perhaps those components should’ve granted you entry into the reprieve of a dream. 

If it wasn’t for the fact you’ve intruded into the domain of slumber twice already today. 

And the tempter who lured you to do so currently has his arm wrapped around your waist. 

Alhaitham’s chest rises and falls against your back, soundly asleep without an ounce of guilt over the predicament he’s partly responsible for. 

Lifting your head off the flattened pillow, your body twists around to fluff the stale stuffing back up before settling back to your position.

His body rested against yours just as it would any other night. But there’s a weight at the corners of your lips, one only grew heavier as your ears witnessed each content exhale resounding from the man who seemingly stole your sleep. 

If you were crueler, you would’ve exiled Alhaitham to the couch or his barren mattress. 

However, he’d probably sleep just fine regardless. 

Canting your head up, you flip your pillow to the other side once more. 

Your rolls and rhythm were abruptly interrupted by the clasp of two harsh hands pulling your hips into his, the contours of his rigor now digging into the plush of your ass. Forcing a stunned gasp up your throat.

“It seems like my wife has quite a bit of energy.” His timbre deeper from grogginess. 

Ah, all the twisting and turning you did just to adjust the troublesome pillow must've disturbed him. 

The softness of your ass cradled against his pelvis through the thin material of a button-down, an item borrowed from his closet that you’ve designated as sleepwear, and his sweatpants. 

‘Serves him right.’ 

Your attempts to twist out from his iron-clad hold only ground your ass more against the stiffness, earning a grumble from his lips. 

“Oh? And who’s fault is it?” You retort, still protesting in his hold. 

Snaking one hand downwards Alhaitham presses against your lower stomach to arch your ass further into him. Leaning his face closer to yours. 

“Do you want me to take responsibility?” His whisper ghosts over the shell of your ear.

You could feel the pads of his fingertips tracing under the loose button-down.

“Shouldn’t you resolve the issues you’ve caused?” A huff leaves you.

The outline of his shape pressed along your skin, the plushness of your bottom contrasting against the rigidity. 

“I can say the same to you.” 

The pads of his fingers trail up your heated skin, crawling along your torso, feathering touches alighting your senses like sparks. Massaging the tired yet restless muscles. You sigh in contentment.

The billowing button-down dragged up by his vascular hand, unveiling your skin to the cool sheets. Wandering touches slow as they rest in the valley of your breasts. His fingers enclose around one mount, gently twisting the defenseless nipple.

“H-hey! Hmph-“ Barely catching a moan before it fled past sealed lips. 

“Hm?” His lips are now right next to your ears. “Surely you foresaw this, I’m just helping my wife with all her excess energy.”

His forgotten hand made its presence known as it kneaded your hips, cunning touches breaching under the feeble defenses of your panties. Effortlessly brushing them to the side, long fingers encroaching closer to their destination. 

Your thighs react, squeezing together to prevent him from venturing further. Unfortunately, it was all in vain, for his fingertips already dipped into an all too familiar sap.

“See, you seem quite eager,” he taunts.

Stubbornly, your body attempts to buckle away from his influence. Face firmly pointed away from his lest he peeks at your heated cheeks. 

Alhaitham abandons the perch on your breast, two large hands attempting to tame the bucks and rolls of your hips. He releases a slow sigh into the crook of your neck. 

“Are you not feeling it tonight?” His hands remain where they were, but the strength missing.

At the lack of resistance, your hips seem to have lost interest in their writhing, staying within his yielding hold. Internally, you chiding your body for being so straightforward. The only thing blocking an answer from exiting your throat was that fickle ego of yours. 

“Won’t you allow me to make up for my blunders today, wife?” He soothes his hand along your leg.

With that stubborn ego of yours still biting down on your tongue, you simply nod your head. Feeling the heat of your cheeks reflected to you by the pillow. 

Permitting your thighs to give into the tow of his grasp. Allowing the grip of one large hand to pull your bent leg open, exposing your vulnerable cunt. Shielded from the view of the raindrops by a mere blanket. 

The hand snaked under your waist took swift advantage of the oppurtunity. Sliding one firm finger down to part the fold of your slit as his warm hand cups your greed. 

Alhaitham continued with the caresses of his fingers. Your lashes and lips pressed tightly shut, your leg still held in his tender hold. His slow breaths brush ghosting your skin. 

He spreads the slick along your slit, the tips of his fingers ever so often knocking against the bud at the very top. Teal eyes catch the sudden jolts of your body every time it happens. 

He moves his fingers downwards, slowly parting the now soft folds of your core. Feeling the subtle puckers of your entrance as his touch traced closer, more wetness dribbling out from the honeypot. 

The tip of his finger now encircles the fluttering hole. Your hip subtly bucked into his hand, as if to lure him in a soundless plea. 

Breaths getting deeper as your eyes follow his touch, the warm pad of his index finger twirling against your clit. Stoking a burgeoning fire with each slow circle. Your placid sighs fill the lull. 

His middle finger ventures past the entrance of your satin walls welcomed with a lewd squelch. Curling his finger against slick walls to test the give, he wonders if this hidden oasis is etched into his shape yet.

Diligently, his digit continues to sink in and out of your weeping hole, making your teeth sink into the flesh of your bottom lip. The squelches increased in volume as trickles of nectar began pooling on the sheets. Walls clamping around a lonely finger, it wasn’t enough to quell that mounting heat within. 

A second deft finger joined in, sliding past a hungry entrance. A tangled dance amongst gummy walls as they curled and stretched the space. The lewd squelches resounding in your ear, a whimper trapped in your throat. The heel of his warm palm now pressed flat against the soft mound of your cunt, every movement of his hand resulting in a grind against your clit. 

Each grind causes a hot flash to shock throughout your body, starting from your curled toes to the very top of your head. The jostling of your hips and legs gradually expels the blanket off the bed. 

“Mmph!” A whine from a sudden surge of bliss when his thick fingers curled against a spongy patch deep within. 

“T-there! More there!”

Your body writhes, no longer docile under the white searing pleasure frying the ends of every nerve within your being. 

He gladly obliges. Unrelenting rhythm slipping in and out of your convulsing walls. Ensuring to grind against that spongey patch.

 Your body twitches and flails in reaction. Trying to find some way to handle this surcharge of sensations. 

Legs instinctively wanting to shut together as if to cease this turbulent sensation, unfortunately, your pitiful strength gave no resistance against his rigid hold.

Piqued by the sweet tune, Alhaitham watches the scrunch in your trembling brows. He repeats his actions, another mewl leaves your lips as your head leans further into his shoulder.

The mellow pace of his fingers suddenly amps up, retreating out only to clap back in as his palm presses into the twitching bud. 

“Ah! Haitham.”

A pressure mounting up, a sirens call beckoning you closer and closer to a hazardous cliff’s edge. The only foundation for your sanity is thousand-count fabric, thus you twist the silk fibers as tremors overtake your body.

Walls clamping down to trap his thick digits inside as it spasms. Muscles tensing and quivering as your back arches away from his chest, parted lips with nothing choking past them. 

Three thick fingers sink deeper into your pussy without a hint of resistance, as a reward he makes sure to roll your overstimulated clit in firm circles with his palms. Judging from the violent tremors in your legs, it seemed you were almost there. 

Just at the cusp of rapture when your hand tangles into his ashen-locks, canting your head back so that your panting lips could capture his. Alhaitham returns to gesture with just as much fervor in his kiss, swallowing down your sweet mewls for himself. 

With a singular gasp, the siren’s call had beckoned your sanity to drown in the murky depths. It’s as if you lost control of your body to the possession of pleasure.

Eyes rolled back and lips broke away as breathy moans escaped the prison of your throat, a haze heavy over your thoughts, pride long lost amongst the gale of an orgasm. 

The beckoning depths of euphoria welcome your descent. 

Your limp frame rests against him. A light layer of sweat coating your panting chest, blurred vision merging and blending the details of the ceiling above the bed.

Alhaitham coaxes the contractions of your core, riding out the waves of their squeezes and sucks against his fingers. Earning an addictive whimper from you when his digits pulled away. Entranced by the glimmering string of nectar stretching between his fingers and your oasis. 

Trailing back up to your face, he notes the return of your hazy irises from their ogle of the bedroom ceiling. 

“Better?” Teal gaze watching the pants of your chest as they steady. 

‘No, not at all’, a statement just at the tip of your tongue, but your lips were busy attempting to grasp deep breaths. The surplus of vigor festering into unquenchable desire. To be closer, deeper, more. You needed more. 

Where words fail, action must take its place. Even before your mind finishes up the scheme brewing within, your lips catch him off guard, plush lips embracing his in a tender waltz.

Your body rolls back so that your breast can press against his chest through the thin fabric of his stolen shirt.

At the tender caress of your kiss, teal eyes disappear behind ashen lashes, the clasp of his grip loosening. Allowing you the mobility to finally pull your body on top of his, lips never once parting until you were finally settled atop his broad body.

A certain stiffness makes its reintroduction against your roused clit.

Breaking the seal of the kiss as a line of salvia stretches between your tongues, arms pushing against his firm chest to prop your body up as you gaze down at him.

“Still have too much energy?” Haughty eyes peer into yours, yet you can see the ardor oh so thinly concealed behind the brilliant teal. 

“What do you mean? Aren’t you the eager one?” You hum, rolling your hips against the rigidness trapped behind the prison of sweatpants.

“Hmm.” He sucks in a breath through his teeth. 

Large hands feel down along the plumpness of your ass as they drag a flimsy bit of fabric down your thighs. Daintier hands pull down the hem of sweatpants and briefs. 

A fair exchange. Him helping you out of those ruined panties, and you freeing him from a compressed prison of cloth. Discarded and forgotten along the floorboards as the fog of passion obscured them from further consideration.

His vascular hands slide down the curves of your body, settling on your hip as your legs plant themselves on either side of his body. Alhaitham coaxes the hem of his stolen button-down just above your midriff. Sharp eyes surveying the puffiness of your clit, glistening with temptation. 

Lowering your hips a breathy sigh leaves his lips and yours as the ridges of his cock drag against your slick folds. A few slow rolls starting from his leaking tip sliding down, thick veins skimming against your swollen clit. Precum mixing with arousal in a sinful concoction along his length. 

Perhaps he should convince you to participate in more naps if he knew it’d make you this excitable. 

“Oh,” you hum aloud, pausing your hips as you reach over to the bedside table.

Pulling open the drawer and rustling about a box followed by the crinkling of foil. Holding up the corner of the packet to your lip, tearing the foil while your gaze held his. Taking your time in dragging the condom out from its package. Easing it down his length while your fingers traced along, feeling each twitch and shudder. 

“You sure do know how to test my patience.” 

“Hmm?” You feign innocence. 

A pair of shaky breaths mingle as Alhaitham helps position his engorged tip at your dripping entrance. Your hand guides him while raising your hips.

Other hand pressing his chest down for support as your thighs sink back down, a shameful squelch accompanying heavy breaths as your walls welcome his cock’s fat head.

Weeping pussy engulfing his girth in bit by bit until you clit kisses his pelvis. Sending jolts of searing pleasure that caused your satin walls to twitch and tighten. 

Releasing a breathy sigh as you gather your senses.

Drawing out his cock inch by thick inch, sloppy trails of arousal caught on each ridge before dropping back down. Earning low grunts and sighs each time your satin walls swallowed his girth. The rhythm of your hips is paced and controlled despite how Alhaitham’s fingers dug into your skin. 

A whine living your drooling lips with each slap of his skin against your clit. Pushing each tantalizing inch to stroke your starved walls until his skin claps against yours with a wet kiss. The bedframe creaks with each calculated movement, back and forth, back and forth the wood sings along. 

Your head was light, intoxicated by a feverish potion of lust and desire. Feeling him reach the deepest depths, fat tip grinding against those spots which made your legs falter momentarily each time.

Utilizing the strength of both your arms now to support yourself. However, the jolts of pleasure that shot up your spine with each roll of your hips were too maddening to stop. 

His calloused fingers massage circles into your hips. Squeezing the plush flesh to ground his sanity, watching your lewd face as you shamelessly bounced on him for your pleasure. Observing the subtle ripples with each slap of your hips and the jumps of your perky breast. 

The ghostly touches of your fingers skim across his lips, prompting his eyes to connect with yours. Lush and glossy lips parted with your deep pants as your lust-hazed eyes peer down at him, unspoken plea inscribed within them. Who is he to not fulfill your desires?

Lurching his upper body up, he answers your plea, capturing your lips with his. Swiping his tongue against your bottom lip, deepening the kiss. A messy and feverish tangle as if to replace the air in your lungs with his. 

Mewls and whimpers muffled by his skin, your hands moving to perch themselves on his broad shoulders. Your quivering legs grew limp as the strength of his hands took over. Barely processing the sweet nothings whispered as your core relishes in the fullness. Like an ache that’s been finally satisfied. 

He wondered if tonight’s excessive vigor was fraying his control, or if your body was just this addictive. 

By now any notion of decency and integrity has long left you, your hand clawing into his shoulders, marking him with the scars of rapture. A harsh thrust of his hips recoils through you, a wanton moan reverbing off the walls as it forces your tangled lips to part. 

Tongue unable to produce anything other than strained moans, your head nods into his broad shoulder as your hips ground against his. The wet squelch announces the reciprocation of your walls. 

The intervals of those unrelenting rams increasing between the tender thrusts, half-lidded eyes trained on the shivers of your body. Cock sliding against satin ridges of your wall. Grunts and pants reverberate through his throat, teeth clenching as your heat engulfs him again. Reaching deeper into your welcoming core as your lips fall open. 

“Is this not enough?” You could feel the mirth in his whisper. 

Closer, deeper, more. You want more. Walls aching for more, for his girth to jostle your core more, to extinguish this all-consuming heat within you. Hips floundering in harmony with breathy mewls. 

Pressing libidinous kisses along his throat feeling the vibrations of his grunts and pants, a deep chuckle was soon felt against your lips.

“Good grief you are a greedy little thing aren’t you.” 

A deafening slam of skin resounds through the heavy air, swiftly followed by another and another. A new tempo in this waltz of passion takes over like a wave sweeping both of you out to a sea of indulgence.

Possessed by the desperation of chasing a white light, your hand rakes deeper into his toned arms. Seizing anything to prevent your mind from abandoning your sinful body as his girth twitches within your velvety folds. 

Sanity like a foolish sailor who’s beckoned by the lure of a siren’s voice, uncaring of the rocks which will sink them to the very bottom of the bemused tides. Keening against your husband shamelessly, a shameless wife on the cusp of her second fall into ecstasy. 

The heavy scent of lust, the smothering heat, his unrelenting and unshakable thrusts amalgamating into the spark that lit your nerves alight. Toes arched into the air and eyes reaching the back of your head. Sobs and incoherent babbles resounding through the room. 

Your devious walls clamped around his dick with maddening convulsions, gummy muscles suckling against his girth eager to quell your aching greed. It was too much. 

His fingers claw into your soft hips, pressing your cunt flush against his hips with a sloppy slap of skin. The bulbous tip prodding against that weakness deep within you. Bruising grip holding your body in place as his lips crash back into yours.

Swallowing down his breathless groans with your sweet mewls and praddles.

A heat is spilled into the rubber, making your greedy walls quiver amidst the aftershocks of ecstasy. Alhaitham’s hips twitch with each subsequent rip of his orgasm, thrusting his length further into your crowded cavity with each one. The filthiness of it all prolongs your sinful depravity. 

Chest expanding with pants, your lopsided shirt falling further down your shoulder. Your eyes return from seeing blinding white, exhaustion drenching each fiber of your body.

Limp figure crumbling against your husband as his back lays back on the creaking headboard. Even before your worn mind could conjure a coherent thought, your hands caress his starlight tresses. 

As his own breath evades him Alhaitham releases one hand to cup your cheek, thumb brushing softly against your smoldering skin, guiding your lips back to his. 

Basking in the warmth forged between your bodies, between drumming heartbeats and breathless lungs. 

Two bodies lay under silken sheets, skin freshly wiped clean of sweat as the crisp breeze brushed against the curtains gradually erasing the sinful haze. The cool air aids your rising and falling chest to pace itself. 

Muscles and bones heavy with fatigue, yet your eyes couldn’t bring themselves to retire behind shut lids. Not when those dreary clouds have finally retreated. 

The moon hangs high in the sky, finally free from the shroud of rain clouds, she sits among the twinkling dots. Twinkling dots were in actuality brilliant stars, some even larger and brighter than the beloved sun. 

Glimmering lustrously as they traverse through the contentious vacuum of space and past other nameless stars. A scene from a late-morning market trip wanders its way back from the depths of your memory, bringing its musings with it.

“Something on your mind?” A timbre voice beckons your conscious mind back from its trek.

Teal eyes set upon yours as your heads rest on plush pillows, just a breath away from one another.

“Hm, just senseless musings.” Your gaze shifts away from the window. 

In a changed world with millions of hands will your hands and his find each other to make two pairs of hands?

In a different time with a million pairs of legs, will your steps and his steps still coincide in time with each other 

In a new life with a sea of new faces, will a stoic face and another stoic face spot each other in the crowd? 

What is the likelihood of those odds? 

“If you keep letting your thoughts fester, it’ll only bring trouble upon yourself in the morning from sleep deprivation.” He shifts his position, supporting his cheek on his fist as he stares down at your face. 

You sigh because he spoke exactly what those whispers of rationale were urging you, but the scoffs of pride had deemed these rampant inquiries ‘childish’. However, it’s a bit hard to avoid his eyes now. 

“I was just musing about the soulmates concept again,” you confess. 

Alhaitham hums in curiosity. 

“Do you…” You take a deep breath, forcing the hard-to-vocalize question from your tongue. “Do you think we’ll only be together in this life?” 

He’s silent. Just the muted chorus of Summer crickets rejoicing over the conclusion of a rainstorm resounding through the space.

“In a different time, a different universe, or the next life, do you think we’ll be soulmates again?” You muster together the courage to peer up at his face. 

“I don’t recall ever reading an article or paper related to this topic, so it’ll be convoluted to get an answer.” He brings his other hand to his face, signifying his musings. 

Right, there isn’t even a definitive answer for what happens after life passes, an afterlife, a cycle, or nothing, no one knows. Was this the only universe where life exists or are there infinitely many far out there in the stars? Does anyone know?

Your hand pulls your blanket up to your face, partially to cover the growing shame creeping up your face. That haughty voice within was right, these baseless questions are silly and childish. Perhaps even too morbid to bring up so unprompted on this weekend night. 

What were you expecting Alhaitham to even do? Did you want him to give you an answer? What can he even do? A question you can’t even begin to understand, why would you even expect him to have some solution prepared? 

What to do now? Can you just take back your previous words from his memory, so he’ll just forget what you said? Maybe just ask him to quell any more mindless musings from plaguing you tonight by placing his lips on your forehead? So that you could finally drift into the realm of slumber. 

However, is that temporary solution enough? Enough to stifle the contentions and riddles clattering together into a clamorous ruckus in your head? Could sleep even spare you from their tumult? 

“The Membrane Multiverse Theory or reincarnation, hm, do you have any personal theories you’d like to share?” The sensation of his fingers grasping yours brings you back to reality. 

Glancing at him with a quirk in your brow, you wait for him to continue. 

“Who knows, maybe we’ll be the first to publish something for this topic.” His thumb runs along your knuckles. 

“So, is there a speculation or possible rationale you feel particular to?” Teal eyes reconnect with yours. 

“Well…” You sigh, relishing in the warmth of his hand as you concoct a half-baked theory. 

“There’s stardust from stars that had burst billions of years ago, that have somehow ended up on this planet. Subsequently, every being on earth has the atoms of stars in them. So, naturally by the law of conservation, the earth is where the atoms of the human body will return.”

“Based on the law that atoms cannot be created or destroyed?” He drones. 

“Yes, they all had to come from something before them. The carbon in muscles, the calcium in bones, and the iron in blood. The atoms that make up you and I might become part of something else, or even of different people too.” 

“Hm, that sounds probable.”

“But, then this brings up a whole new host of questions, such as, if the new people our atoms become a part of are even ‘us’? Will they ever meet? What if you become a tree and I a rock? What if the atoms of you end up on one side of Teyvat and I on the other end?”

You peer into his irises, but you were just searching for an answer that isn’t there. 

For his beryl irises were impassive. But it was the impassive foundation you needed to ground your rambling thoughts and nonsensical musings into the desolate truth of it all.

The warmth of his hand slips away.

“Never mind, I suppose it’s the most logical to conclude that we’re just soulmates in this instance of time, in this universe, and only here.” Your hand closes over the empty space he left. 

Maybe it’s wise to dismiss it as silly rambling and then withdraw from his indecipherable eyes. Is it too late to put this plan into motion now?

The weight of a muscular arm is draped over your waist, hand pulling you closer unlike your ploy to escape. 

“But I have a few theories I haven’t shared yet.” He glances out toward the bedroom window. 

“While the theory of reincarnation currently doesn’t have any solid scientific backing, in some way, the law of conservation of mass does give a bit of merit to that notion.” Alhaitham draws circles into the small of your back. 

You hum in response. 

“The atoms that created us will return to the earth after us and become a part of something or someone else’s molecular structure. A tree or a rock, a human or a beast, it’s all probable. However…” Beryl eyes return to meet yours. 

“What’s stopping them from repeating the same molecular structures as right now?” He asks. 

Maybe it was his turn to peer into your eyes to search for an answer, an answer currently brewing and forging between your united gazes. 

“What’s stopping these atoms from returning to these exact molecular structures in the future? In a different time, the atoms of us now could one day in the far future come together again and make ‘us’ once more. Maybe just you, maybe just me, or maybe both at the same time.” 

He frees his other hand from the duty of supporting his head, broad body settling down into the bed and blankets, allowing his face to move closer to your level upon his pillow. 

“What’s the likelihood of those odds? Me and you again?” You ask. 

Alhaitham pauses. All the bright minds of science, mathematics, and physics, have yet to come up with a formula to calculate such a thing.

What would be the factors plugged into the equation? And how accurate would it even be?

The ashen-haired man wasn’t sure, but there was at least a statistical observation that would provide some basis. 

“A true 0% chance is an absolute impossibility, just as nothing can be proven absolutely 100%. Since we don't know the absolutes of time, existence, or physics. So, there’ll always be a non-zero chance.” Feeling the drums of your heartbeat against his chest. 

“Then, when they do, I think I’ll spend my life pondering what could fit into the spaces between my fingers like this.” He slips his hand into the gaps of yours, intertwining them. 

Then finally, he saw the smile he’d been yearning for rising on your lush lips. The ends of your eyes crinkle as it make its way to your irises as well. Your grip mirrors his as you nestle your face closer to his. 

“You won’t get tired of this stoic face?” You taunt.

“Will you get tired of mine?” He counters. 

Your shoulders quiver with stifled giggles. 

“No, no I won’t,” you promise him. 

“Then I won’t,” he promises back. 

His larger hand brings yours closer to himself, all the while your attentive eyes watch failing to keep the curl of your lips under control. 

“Any thoughts on the Membrane Multiverse Theory? How will your astute mind surmise the possibility of us laying like this somewhere else in the stars?” Honeyed-voice mimicking awe as your face inches closer.

“I believe I’ve shared enough, I’d much rather hear what your brilliant postulate is.” His tone casted with mirth, but the bite missing from teal eyes. 

Letting a soft hum, your mind rifling through all the paragraphs and journals your hands had ever thumbed through.

The soft rhythm of his breaths kept time. Stringing the words together on your tongue, you hope this monologue of yours will provide some amusement for him. 

“If universes are randomly put into 2 boxes of ‘yes’ and ‘no’, then on average the number of universes in each box would be the same. For every universe I’m not with you, there’ll be equally as many where I am with you.” 

A coin toss, perhaps it was all just a coin toss after all. Whether or not the Akasha paired a stoic face with another stoic face, for the gaps of your fingers to fit his so perfectly.

It could have all been a coin toss, for one half to stumble upon the other half cruelly parted from them by the hands of unseen gods. 

“Something akin to a bijection existing between both sets of universes?” He cross-examines. 

“Maybe… If we were to assign one type ‘yes’ to a positive integer, and the other type ‘no’ to a negative integer, then perhaps we can construct a bijection from the positive and negative integers.” Your brow furrows in contemplation. 

“If we submit this theory do you think the Akademiya would publish it?” 

“Not likely, bijections are usually made between sets of elements like numbers, not sure if bijections can be applied to something like whole universes. I’m just hypothesising nonsense,” you sigh.

“But they did publish the nonsense known as The Lifespan of Love,” he interjects. 

“Hm, then maybe there’s a non-zero chance they’ll publish our nonsense too.” You stifle a scoff. 

“Hm,” Alhaitham hums in amused agreement. 

His free hand pulls the covers further up over your frame then smoothing out the wrinkles. Observing the growing delays between your slowing blinks.

“Only you and I would turn pillow talk into an academic deliberation.” You couldn’t hold back the giggle any longer. 

He sighs in agreement, nestling his head closer to yours on the plush pillows, teal gaze never once leaving yours. 

“It’ll make any romantic keel over and die from how dry it is, wouldn’t it, Haitham?”

“I say let them.” 

Scoffing and shaking your head at his crude declaration as a yawn slips past your lips, a conclusion to this nonsensical academic deliberation.

With one hand still intertwined in the tender grasp of another you pull Alhaitham closer. So that the spaces of your body could lay against the spaces of his. 

The warmth of his skin mingling with the warmth of yours, pressed against one another. You drawing mindless shapes into his back, his hand tracing senseless ruins into yours.

Perhaps, an illogical attempt to echt memories into the stardust in your bodies. 

So he and you could imprint the memory of each other into the very fibers of your beings. Then maybe someday when these atoms return to these exact molecular structures, they’ll remember this too. 

The law of conservation of mass, the probabilities upon probabilities, and bijections used in an inconsequential pseudo-academic ramblings to no one but an audience of silent stars.

Alhaitham’s certain no academic publisher would spare a glance at them. 

But this nonsensical instance in the continuum of time, feeling the rhythm of your heart on the other side of his chest next to his own, is his most precious epiphany. 

Fin~

©️vivalabunbun DON’T PLAGIARIZE, REPOST, OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS. 

[wildernessuntothemselves]

Soulmate(s) | Part 1

Genre: smut, fluff, angst

Word Count: 3.7

 Summary: In a world where you get the name of your soulmate tattooed on your skin the night you turn 21, there should be no reason to even think about fucking around with anyone else. Why would you when you know that the perfect person who is made just for you is somewhere out there waiting for you to find them? 

So how the hell did you end up messing around with your two best friends and what are you going to do if neither of them ends up being your soulmate or worse, what if one of them is your soulmate?

Warnings: fem!reader, soulmates au, this is not a light fic, there will be backstabbing and manipulation, sub!soobin, dom!gyu, also sub!gyu, dom!oc, masturbation, handjob, blowjob, dry humping, dirty talk, mentions of panty stealing

It feels so wrong doing this but so right at the same time. You know you’re not supposed to mess around with anyone other than your soulmate. In a world where you get the name of your soulmate tattoed on your skin the night you turn 21, there should be no reason to even think about fucking around with anyone else. Why would you when you know that the perfect person who is made just for you is somewhere out there waiting for you to find them? 

And it's not like you have much longer to wait. You're 20 now, just a few months shy of turning 21. You'll know your soulmate's name soon enough. But maybe that's why you're doing this. The idea of only being with one person forever and ever is both exciting and daunting. To only belong to one person–for them to have your first touch, your first kiss, your first everything… It felt a bit overwhelming. That’s how you had somehow convinced Soobin to do this with you. 

He is one of your two best friends. Honestly you could’ve equally asked Beomgyu, your other best friend, but he’s such a loud mouth you're scared he would’ve exposed you unintentionally. 

So Soobin it was, and he is good. He is sweet and shy and his lips feel heavenly against yours. You can tell he is as nervous as you are, hands timidly holding onto your sides as you clumsily kiss each other. Despite both your inexperience, it still feels good, and for a brief period of time as you’re kissing him, your worries and fears fade into the back of your mind and you think you’ve made the right decision.

It makes sense to explore such an intimate experience with someone you feel so comfortable with. If anything, it may make you better prepared to be mentally and physically present when you do meet your soulmate since you’ll already have gone through these nerve-racking firsts and learned what you like and what you don’t like in a zero-stakes environment. It would take a lot of the stress out of the equation for you. Yes, this seems more and more and more like a good idea by the second. 

But of course, it wasn’t a good idea and you’re stupid to think you could get away with it so easily. 

“What are you doing?” You hear Beomgyu's loud voice gasp and you both immediately pull away from each other. 

“Umm… nothing.” Soobin says dumbly after a long period of silence, making Beomgyu roll his eyes. 

“Sure didn't look like nothing. Are you two fucking?”

Now it was your turn to gasp and smack Beomgyu's shoulder. “Don't be disgusting. We were just kissing.”

“How long have you been kissing for?” He pushes curiously and you groan. “Just now. Just this once. I just wanted to know what it feels like before I'm bound to my soulmate forever. Please don't make this a big deal.”

You’re pleading your case, hoping he’d understand why you did this and not expose your ass. But of course, that wasn’t what was on Beomgyu’s mind. “Why didn't you ask me?”

You cringe at the offended tone in his voice. Of course, he’d make this into a competition. “I thought about it but I knew you wouldn't be able to keep your mouth shut.”

“What are you talking about?” He scoffs, now seriously offended. “I'm great at keeping secrets. I didn't tell Soobin that you have a crush on him. I didn’t tell you that I've found a couple of your underwear under Soobin's pillow.” 

You and Soobin's eyes widen comically. 

“Oops.” Beomgyu grins. That bastard did it on purpose. “Well, I guess the cat's out of the bag. I like you both too and I want to be involved in whatever this is.” 

Hold on. Hold on. Soobin likes you? Beomgyu likes you? What the hell is going on? This is too much information at once for your brain to process, and you try to ignore the way it all makes your heart flutter in your chest. You can't think about this too much. Your soulmate's name will be revealed to you soon. It is useless to think about what feelings who has for who.

“There is nothing to be involved in. This is over.” You proclaim and Soobin shoots Beomgyu a glare as if to say ‘thanks for blowing it’, but Beomgyu ignores him and instead rushes to protest, “Why? Why the sudden change of mind, baby? You were very into it just a minute ago.”

You scowl at him. Baby? “Yeah that was before you ruined it.”

“Oh come on, don't tell me you don't want some of this.” Beomgyu says greasily, pulling you by the hips and pressing your body against his body. 

Despite what the warmth of his body does to you, you keep the unimpressed look on your face, knowing Beomgyu can do little else but get you in trouble.  “Beomgyu, I am seriously going to throw up over you.” 

“Okay, okay, I'll tone it down.” He says, but doesn’t make any move to take his hands off you or separate his body from yours. “But seriously, I really want to try this too. I'm nervous about my soulmate too. What if I don't like them?”

You give him a look as if he's stupid and he clarifies, rolling his eyes, “I know I will love them obviously because that’s what’s written for me but what if I don't like them? You understand me?”

“I do.” You hesitate. Is a love you have no choice over really love? 

“But I know I like you. Both of you. And I want to experience this with you before I belong to someone else forever.” You’ve rarely seen Beombgyu look so genuine before–your best friend usually would rather be caught dead than serious–and you know he really means it. 

You finally relent. “Okay.”

“So can I get a kiss?” He asks gleefully and you look at Soobin who shrugs. You look back at Beomgyu and sigh. Oh well, what have you got to lose? It’s not like you don’t have feelings for Beomgyu, and may or may not have always found him to be really pretty–not that you’d tell him that of course. If his head gets any bigger, you’re not sure he’d be able to walk into rooms anymore. 

With that in mind, you bend down, pressing your lips against his. But Beomgyu wasn’t shy or reserved like Soobin and he immediately presses into the kiss fully, deliberately, taking your breath away before you even realize it. 

His lips are insistent against yours, guiding the kiss into something passionate, something that has your fingers tingling and the breath taken out of your lungs. 

But when you feel his tongue press against your lips, seeking to deepen the kiss even more, you have to pull back. “Beomgyu, no, too much.”

“Why not?” He whines, and his deep voice that's gotten even deepers causes you to shiver, the heavy look in his eyes making you want to melt into a puddle. 

You know some things about sex. You all do as it's encouraged for you to know what to expect when you finally meet your soulmate. So you know that look in Beomgyu's eyes too well and you have to say that being on the receiving end of it was making you weak in the knees. He’s always had smoldering eyes, and when you combine that with the desire and want he’s regarding you with right now, it’s hard not to burn up under his gaze. 

You gulp down the saliva pooling in your mouth. “Not so fast.”

“Please, baby.” He bends to kiss down your neck, his breath erupting a trail of goosebumps in his wake. Why the hell is he so good at this? Did he do this before? No, that’s crazy. 

You push him away before you lose it. “No, Beomgyu.”

“You're such a tease.” He groans, his rolling eyes landing on Soobin and he smirks. 

“Aw, did that get you excited, baby?” He grins, pulling Soobin into his arms just like he had you, but this time Soobin was looming over him. It didn't make a difference though. Beomgyu was still in control. “Be a good boy and stay still.”

He kisses Soobin and, fuck, you never thought about it before but seeing your best friends kiss was the hottest thing you've ever witnessed. Beomgyu is just as passionate kissing Soobin as he had just been kissing you, and it’s not hard to see why Soobin was so affected by the sight–except Soobin doesn’t protest when Beomgyu pushes his tongue into his mouth, and as soon as it touches his, he lets out a pathetic moan that has you dripping in your underwear. 

You see Beomgyu's smile into the kiss–fuck why was his cockiness so sexy?--before he presses even harder, muffling the rest of Soobin's moans. 

They're both messy–wet kissing noises filling the room and making you press your thighs together for some relief. They’re the ones kissing but you feel like you're the one going crazy. Seeing the filthy way Beomgyu was kissing the taller male, making him submit to him… it makes you almost turn into a puddle.

Finally, after a good five minute makeout session that has both you and Soobin struggling to catch your breath, Beomgyu pulls away, and you swear Soobin lets out a little mewl in protest. 

“Did a little bit of kissing get you all hot and bothered, Binnie?” You look down to where Beomgyu was looking and blush when you see Soobin's pants bulging out. 

It's not like Beomgyu was any better. He was hard too, but his demeanor was enough so that Soobin didn't realize the irony of his statement. 

You didn't expect him to actually do it but Beomgyu reaches out to cup Soobin's bulge, making the both of you gasp. That draws Beomgyu's attention back to you and he grins. “You like what you see, baby?”

He looks down and you realize you are touching yourself now. But you don't care. You just want this to continue. You're too horny to think clearly so you just nod. You’ll deal with consequences of crossing this boundary later when your brain isn't swimming in sex hormones. 

“Want to watch me jerk him off?”

You nod again enthusiastically and Beomgyu grins, turning back to Soobin to undo his pants. 

“Let's put on a good show for her, huh, baby?”

Soobin whimpers as Beomgyu pulls him out of his pants and starts jerking him off. 

“Fuck, so big.” You mutter mindlessly and Beomgyu turns to you, scoffing, “Yeah? Bet he can't even use it if the way he's humping my hand is any indication.”

“Of course, he doesn’t. This is new to all of us.” Your retort breaks into a pathetic gasp as your own fingers rubbing your clit mercilessly, copying the way Beomgyu's long fingers rub Soobin's slit. But Beomgyu’s not interested in your smart-assery.

“Why don't you take off your underwear, princess? Show us what's under that tiny skirt you’re always teasing us with.” Beomgyu demands, making you blush. Teasing them? You never intended or even thought you were doing that. 

“I wasn’t teasing.” You frown, pace faltering as your brows furrow in confusion. 

“Oh, but you are.” Beomgyu laughs, “Tell her, Binnie.” 

You look to Soobin who seems to be bowing under the pressure of the pleasure from Beomgyu’s touch as well as your curious and disbelieving gaze. 

“Yeah. You a-are a tease.” He mutters lowly, not meeting your eyes. “You don’t have t-to wear skirts so short around us. We’re still men.” 

“Hence the panty stealing.” Beomgyu adds and you snort, trying not to think too hard about what they’ve just admitted to because what the fuck? The fucking perverts! How could you have not known? “Hence? Surprised you know that word, Gyu.”

But Beomgyu doesn’t let you derail the mortifying yet somehow flattering conversation. “You’re teasing right now. Come on, let us see that pretty pussy.” 

Your body heats up, your face burning and your ears feel like they could fall off any second. You never thought that one of your best friends, the guys you practically grew up with, would be spouting such filth at you one day and basically admitting that they’ve both been seeing you in a more than platonic way and using you as spankbank material to jack off to you without you being none the wiser, and you certainly didn’t expect how fucking hot you’d find their depravity. “Can't have poor Binnie here feel like he's the only one exposed.”

“Why don't you take off your pants then and jerk both of your cocks together so he wouldn’t feel alone?” You counter to try and take some of the heat off of you but Beomgyu just laughs lightly, leaving you to wonder how he can be so calm about all of this when you feel like you’re one second away from spontaneously combusting. “You'd love to see that, wouldn't you? Dirty girl.” 

Before you can squabble more, Soobin lets out a loud whine. “Beomgyu, please I'll cum” 

“Will you? Is it turning you on to be jerked off for her to see and play with her pretty pussy? Do you wanna show her how much your big cock can fill her up if she lets you fuck her?”

Fuck, that is so hot and so wrong. There is no way you’d let Soobin fuck you if he’s not your soulmate, but just the idea of doing something so taboo clearly gets to the both of you. You shudder when you see Soobin cry out, staring at your hand playing with yourself under your skirt as he cums, covering Beomgyu's hand and clothes with his seed. 

Beomgyu grabs the taller boy by the neck and pulls him into a rough kiss, muffling his moans of overstimulation as he pulls even more cum out of his now red cock. You can’t take it anymore, your body finally succumbing to the obscenity unfolding in front of you as you cum watching your two best friends make out. 

“Good boy.” Beomgyu drawls, pulling back from the kiss to look at your shuddering body coming off your own orgasm and smirks. 

“God, you're both so easy.” He proclaims cockily, and as the fog of your high clears, you go back to being annoyed at his attitude, letting it coarse through you and burn off the embarrassment you feel at what you’ve just done. Who does he think he is? Of course, you're easy. You're all virgins here. He probably is easy too despite his bravado. He is just better at hiding it for some reason and it’s getting on your nerves. You’ll show him. You’ll prove that he’s just as pathetic as the both of you. 

With that in mind, you stalk towards him, roughly pushing him down on the bed behind him before straddling him. You rest your soaked underwear on top of the bulge in his pants and give your hips an experimental roll that pulls a choked moan out of him and makes his hands fly out to grab you by the ass, pushing your crotch further against his cock. 

“Oh fuck, yes. Ride my cock, baby.” He groans, his hips eagerly bucking up against yours. 

“Who is easy now?” You attempt to gain the upper hand, but Beomgyu doesn’t care, easily giving it up to you.

“I don't care just keep going, fuck.” He mutters, his hold on your bruising as a string of truly pitiful moans and whimpers fall out of his pretty lips, almost giving you whiplash. He crumbled so easily. 

“You were acting all cocky and in control, making fun of Soobinie for being eager but look at you now, acting even worse, saying anything just to have something rubbing against your needy cock.”

You don't know what came over you, but putting Beomgyu in his place brought you immense pleasure. He is usually so loud and bratty and you can do nothing about it, so it feels good to finally have found a way to get the best of the brat. 

“God, I can feel your wet pussy even through all the clothes.” He whines, and you should feel embarrassed. You should find it mortifying that you're so wet he can feel it even though you're both still fully dressed but the needy look on his face and the desperate way he is clutching onto you just makes you feel powerful. 

“Yeah? Wanna make a mess in your pants for Binnie to see?”

He looks at the other boy who is now back to being fully hard and stroking his cock over the scene playing out in front of him. 

“Yeah. Wanna cum for you.”

“What do you think, Binnie? Does Beommie deserve to cum after the way he was just acting? Or should I leave him all wet and horny?”

Beomgyu shivers and shakes his head. “No, please.” He turns to Soobin, panicking. “Binnie, baby, didn't I make you cum?”

“I don't know. You were very mean, making fun of me.” 

You grin, loving that Soobin is playing along in tormenting Beomgyu. After all, it's not too often that you get to get back at the little shit. 

“No, baby, I was just putting on a show. Please.” He puts on his best puppy dog eyes as he tries to justify himself but you all know it’s bullshit. He fucking loved every second of tormenting Soobin just as you love every second of tormenting him. 

“Shut up, Beomgyu, before I have Binnie shove his cock down your throat to shut you up.” You were only making empty threats, but seeing the way Soobin bites his lip at that and jerks himself off harder makes you actually want to do it. 

“Oh, do you wanna fuck Gyu’s throat, Binnie? Finally shut up that loud mouth of his?” 

“Please.” The tall boy steps closer, but waits for you to give the go ahead. You look back down at Gyu who looks a bit scared but does not protest. “What do you say, Gyu? You wanna cum, right?”

“Baby–”

“Come on, don’t be such a tease.” You mock him, pushing two of your fingers into his mouth and moving them in and out as if you’re fucking it. “You wanted more right?” 

He nods, gagging a little as you push your fingers in too far. “Yeah. You’re gonna be good and get Binnie off with your mouth?” You ask, grabbing his tongue between your thumb and index finger and pulling it out of his mouth so he can’t speak, but he nods. 

“Good boy.” You reward him by pulling the head of his cock out of his pants and thumbing at it with your saliva covered fingers. He throws his head back, mouth hung open in a loud moan, and you motion for Soobin to go ahead–the power rush you’re getting from bossing the two boys around making Beomgyu’s pants sticky with your arousal. 

Soobin can only get half of his cock into Beomgyu’s mouth before the other boy is choking, but it’s difficult for Beomgyu to protest when you’re grinding against him so deliciously while your index finger teases his weeping slit mercilessly–not that he would be able to say much anyway with the older boy’s cock stuffing his big mouth. 

Soobin on the other hand can say a lot, and he’s spouting off all sorts of exclamations and curses at the feeling of Beomgyu’s warm, wet mouth around his member. 

“Fuck, this feels amazing.” He groans and turns to you, “Can I use him every day?” He asks you cheekily and you grin as you hump against Beomgyu harder. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. Look at him, he’s soaking my hand with precum. He must love having cock in his mouth.” 

You hear Beomgyu garbled moans around Soobin’s cock and you question him. “What’s wrong, baby? Is Binnie using his big cock right this time?” 

Beomgyu whines again and you laugh at him, but Soobin doesn’t find it so funny, not with his cock getting the full brunt of all of Beomgyu’s vocalizations. “Oh god, I’m close. Can I cum on his face?” 

You grin widely. “Of course, Binnie. I’m sure Gyu wants to help out his hyung any way he can. He’s so needy he’ll let you cover his pretty face in cum because he knows that will earn him a reward. Isn’t that right, baby?”

Beomgyu pulls away from Soobin’s dick, gasping out, “Yeah, want you to cum, Binnie.” 

“Good boy.” You drawl, rocking yourself against Beomgyu’s dick and making him moan out. “Please, cum. Please.” 

You don’t know if he’s begging for Soobin to cum or for you to let him cum but it doesn’t matter as the effect is immediate on Soobin who empties his balls on the pretty boy’s face, and the sight of Beomgyu covered in Soobin’s cum pushes you over the edge too. 

As you shake and spasm, you make sure to grab Beomgyu’s dick and jerk it off harshly, and within seconds, he too is cumming, making a mess of himself even more as he covers his body with his own cum. 

“Fuck, fuck!” His back arches as his orgasm racks through him, almost throwing you off, before he falls back to the bed and convulses with the aftershocks of his orgasm. “Holy shit.” 

Holy shit is the right phrase because wow, this was amazing, way better than doing it alone and guiltily conjuring up faceless apparitions of companions that in weak moments take the form of one of your two best friends. 

No, the real thing was much better, but as the fog of the pleasure lifts off and only the mess of your crime scene is left behind, the guilt and dread sink their claws into your stomach. 

Your eyes dart between Soobin who is slumped on the chair next to the bed catching his breath with his cock still in his hand to Beomgyu who is still under you, absolutely soaked in all your combined fluids as he struggles to catch his own breath–both of them still sporting that dazed blissful look on their faces, not having yet joined you in realization land where the only thing running through your mind right now is ‘Oh, dear god, what have you done? What does this mean? And where the hell do you go from here?’

_________________________

A/N: surprise drop lol. i am still working on the yandere iron age gyu twoshot but it's much more difficult to write so have this in the meantime. hope you like it and let me know what your predictions for this series is

[causeilikelix]

The fic was sooo good!! I can't wait to read the others!! Jisung soon? 👀👀

OMG thank you!!! I'm excited to write them lol

Don't worry I have lots of fun planned for Jisung 😏😏😏

[fics-lovebot]

bts fic recs

main masterlist

· · ♡ · · tysm to the amazing creative minds of the writers for giving me sevaral moments of joy reading your creations

i´ll be constantly updating this list so make sure to check it out often for new recs

pls remember to reblog if you like any of my recs❤️

divider creds: @notaorbital & @v6que

LAST UPDATED: 14/11/2024

here you can find jungkook ´s m.list

poly / ot7

love octagon? - ( @whyse7vn ) this was just too funny to me fsdfhsd, i always read it when a want to lift my mood

lovesick - ( @angelicyoongie ) yandere ot7, soulmate au, stalking, harrasment, you got 7 soulmates you don´t know about the you deff know about you, this is an on going series, hopefully i´ll be updated soon bc i loved it

seokjin

tba

yoongi

yoongi joins you in your bath and you talk about your days - ( @borathae) fluffy, vampire!yoongs, this is so wholesome :(

bewitched - ( @borathae) smut, fluff, vamp!yoongi, witch!reader, you put a spell on him so he cant cum till you say so, ON MY SOUL I FELT THIS ALL THE WAY TO MY TOES, the smut is gewwwd and the fluff is amazing ughhh, loved it

namjoon

namjoon loves creampies - ( @euphoricfilter ) smut obv, he is an ASS gUY as he shouldd, he luvs him some reverse cowgirl position, obssesed with watching cum dripping outta you, he´s just laying there thinking nasty stuff while watching you ride or die, its TEW MUCHHH

belly bulge -( @euphoricfilter ) ,,,,,do you even have to ask what this is about?, ITS A LOT GOING ONNNNNN, talking about big beeffy thick wide strong bear built namjoon and his big ol dicc, who wouldnt like this??, he jerks himself off throught your stomach...

forg_tful - ( @joon4eva ) established relationship, angstt, fluff, this one makes me cry every tIMEEEE, he forgets something important for the 2394823948th time so reader thinks he just doesn´t care, he doesn´t like being away from her :((((, but he owns it up bc he is a grown mature emotionally stable man, we love it

love language - ( @rmnamjoons ) soulmate au, mute!reader, non idol au. THE FLUFF IS BEAUTIFULLLLLLL, i love joons pov before meeting her, and the day the meet???? i died, it was so cute

blushes from a rose - ( @army-author ) fluff, supernatural au, popular witch!namjoon, shy forest nymph!reader, so like,,i need a movie of this asap

hoseok

tba

jimin

split - ( @sombreboy ) smut, snake hybrid!jimin, he has a fORKED tongue and TWO cocks!!!! :D NOW THIS, i remember reading it a long time ago and thinking it was the best hybrid!jimin fic out there, i´ve read about him being a cat, a dog, etc but a SNAKE??? now that´s new, loved it

faded love - ( @jamaisjoons ) angst, fluff, cheating husband!jimin, ceo!jimin. "he doesn’t need to say it. because you can feel your husband, park jimin, falling out of love with you." ANGST FESSSTTTT, another one for my personal collection, i love this sm

taehyung

devotion - ( @borathae) smut, vampire!tae, period sex, multiple orgasms, period blood licking, its a LOT GOING ON I- wow, pls just read it

These Things Take Time - ( @laughing-with-god ) yandere! supernatural tae, gaslighting, gore, horror, ex bf jimin, this is written so well , ghost? tae but not really, doppleganger kinda thing, loved it

let love be enough - ( @jingabitch ) ex-husband!tae, cheater!tae, divorce au, you meet again after 20 years on your daughter´s wedding. YUPPP this is an angst fest right here, probably my favorite tae angsty fic out there, i LOVE IT

the curse of a crush - ( @army-author ) fluff, supernatural au, down bad witch!taehyung, witch!reader, he´s so in love with you he thinks you´ve cursed him with a love potion, SO CUTEEE

[kasagia]

Let me follow

Pairing: Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!Fremen!soulmate! reader Summary: You were taught that there were monsters lurking in the darkness. That you should never talk to them—those who are just waiting to get at you in your defenceless state. But how do you avoid something that haunts your dreams every night? And what to do when a nightmare suddenly enters your reality? Warning: violence; blood; Feyd Rautha; death; soulmate au!; Taglist for Feyd: @avidreader73 Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Part II ~•♤♤♤•~

At first you thought it was just a nightmare.

One of those terrifyingly stupid ones that happens when you collapse into bed in exhaustion after a long day of training with your father.

You don't remember exactly how you ended up on Arrakis, but you know for sure that it wasn't your home planet. You may have been too young to remember everything from your past or to have one sure memory about living somewhere else than that one huge dune, but it didn't change that at night you are haunted by images that the human imagination couldn't create on its own.

However, you preferred not to mention it to your father. He kept the story of your little family close to him, not telling anyone from your Sietch any details. For him, the past was supposed to stay in the past. So you didn't push him. The life you had... was, for lack of a better word, enough. You didn't go hungry, you didn't lack water as much as other groups, and you lived a peaceful life far from the Atreides and Harkonnens who tried to take over Arrakis or the cunning plans of the Bene Gesserit. You lived in peace.

Until some time.

It all began with a nightmare…

You shiver as you feel the heat rising from the desert sands surrounding you. A warm wind blows into your eyes, mocking you as it hits grains of sand in your eyes. You curse, rubbing your hand over your eyes as you try to cover them so you can take in as much of your surroundings as the crazy sandstorm will allow you.

In the distance, you see something like a cave carved into a rocky dune. You head there in hopes of finding shelter there. You go slowly, step by step. Sand gets inside your shoes; you feel it everywhere. On the skin, in the hair, on the eyelashes, on the lips. You feel like you're about to choke on it.

The pungent scent of the spice fills your lungs, making you feel stronger and more alert as you wade through the folds of sand.

And suddenly, you hear it. Gentle, dull thumps on the ground. You freeze, realising what they could mean—or rather, what they could attract.

You run ahead even before you notice the sand moving due to the sandworm's arrival. You feel the ground shake as you desperately try to escape the bloodthirsty creature of Arrakis. But, as always, you're too slow. The sandworm emerges, engulfing you completely. Darkness envelopes you as you feel yourself falling.

Only this time you don't wake up with a racing heart or jump out of bed with rapid breathing, grabbing for the sword that rests safely by your bed.

No. This time, you land in a large, empty, black room.

You shudder, wrapping your hands around yourself and rubbing your arms as you feel the coldness of the room hit your skin. You frown as you walk over to the mirror, which seems to be the only thing in the room illuminated by the dim glow of the torchlight on the wall. You're wearing a long black nightgown; your nails are painted black, as are your lips. Your skin is a little paler than usual, but you're relieved to no longer have to deal with the sands of Arrakis. You are fed up with this planet every day, seeing it in your dreams only kills you more…

You don't recognise this place, but something about the darkness surrounding you makes you feel uneasy. Your heart quickens as you look for a way out of the empty, black chamber.

Your bare feet lead you into the darkness, all you can hear is your breathing, your heartbeat, and your quiet footsteps as you take quick steps, trying to have as little contact as possible between your skin and the cold, black marble underneath your feet.

You start to hear whispers. Quiet, feminine. You don't understand most of them; they all merge into a tangle of sounds, from which it is difficult to distinguish single words. You walk forward, only to once again stand in front of the same mirror as at the beginning of your journey.

You examine the black frame, looking for some hidden mechanism they might be hiding, convinced that there is some secret passage hidden behind the mirror. You run your fingertips lightly over the frame of the mirror and flinch when you accidentally prick your finger.

You hiss as a trickle of blood runs down your finger. You put it on your lips, but before you can lick the blood off it, you see in the mirror that someone's large, white hand is firmly gripping your wrist, stopping you from doing so.

You freeze when your eyes meet the icy blue irises of a man emerging from the shadows behind you. Your heart beats faster when you see his white, bald head and eyebrowless face. The sneer on his face allows you to see his pitch-black teeth for a moment, which makes you shiver.

Harkonnen.

You feel him pressing his chest against your back. He wraps his other hand around your waist like a snake, making you feel trapped, like you can't breathe anymore.

Somehow, you can't move your gaze from the mirror. And even when you're in Harkonnen's dangerous grasp, all you can do is look at him, or more precisely, into his eyes. You are hypnotised as if you have never seen one in your life, as you have never killed one. You can't shake the feeling that he's familiar to you. Your stupid heart calms down at his proximity, but your mind screams at you to run away from the enemy. And it's right. As always. But you're too stunned to listen to reason, too enchanted by the developments you're seeing in the mirror in front of you.

As he tightens his grip on your wrist, you break out of whatever strange spell you're under, letting your survival instincts take over. You try to fight him, to break free from his grip, but he doesn't seem to care that you are struggling against him. He directs your hand with your bleeding finger to your neck, leaving a trail of blood from your mouth to your neck, collarbone, and shoulder.

You shiver as he finishes, and, keeping his gaze on you in the mirror, he guides your hand to his mouth. The inside of his mouth is warm, his tongue wraps around your finger, drawing in every drop of blood that still escapes from the wound that is healing. He sucks up the last of your blood, licking his lips as he releases your finger.

"Sweet." His soft purring in your ear gives you goosebumps.

He leans down and places a wet kiss on your shoulder. His tongue caresses your skin as he licks up the blood he placed there earlier. You stare at the mirror, frozen, as his pale, almost white skin touches yours as he follows a trail of blood, leaving small bites and a black streak in his wake. You're not sure if it was his saliva that was black or if it was from the paint they probably used on their teeth and the inside of their mouths (or at least you hoped they weren't naturally black).

You fight against him as he peppers your neck with kisses, leaving a few hickeys there. But he's too strong, and with your movements, you rub against him, not causing him any serious pain, which somehow makes him even more aroused. He is pressing the evidence of his... excitement uncomfortably against your ass.

Suddenly, his hand is wrapped tightly around your neck as he turn you to face him and pins you to the mirror. Looking at him through the mirror was completely different from looking at him straight in the eyes. It all felt… more real, however real a figment of your horrible imagination might feel.

He leans down, making you very aware that he had one spot left where your blood was still. Your lips. You try to move away from him, but the more you press yourself against the mirror, the more his body presses against you.

"Oh, she's a little warrior... that makes all of it even sweeter." He chuckles darkly, playing with a strand of your hair. You shiver, feeling his hard length press against your clothed core.

The whispers around you turn into screams and chants as he leans down to kiss the last drop of blood from your lips. You turn your head, causing his pale lips to land on your cheek. You feel his breath against your skin as he chuckles again. He takes the opportunity to lick a path from your cheekbone to your temple before catching your jaw in a tight grip.

"You won't get far, little mouse. Accept your fate." He says, leaning in again, his nose brushing against yours, you feel the cold radiating from him as he digs his fingers hard into your skin as he lazily and leisurely brings his lips to yours...

Feyd opens his eyes as the metal tray clatters against the black marble floor of his chamber.

He automatically reaches for the dagger hidden under his pillow and throws it at one of his concubines, who accidentally dropped the tray down. The other two freeze, staring at their dead sister. The dead body falls to the floor with a thud. The blood quickly begins to pool around the body of the dead harpy.

Feyd smiles, seeing both fear and hunger in their eyes when they see the opportunity to eat good meat. Pathetic. He had warned them not to wake him up today.

"Clean up and get out." He growls at them, furious. He carefully watches as they carry out the body (presumably to feast on it as the remnants of humanity within them lose to starvation) and clean the floor before obediently leaving his chambers.

Furious, he falls on the bed. He covers his eyes with his hand in a feeble attempt to return to his dream and taste your lips. He wonders if maybe it wasn't for the better... after all, he should have tasted the real thing instead of toying with you in dreamland, where his options were... quite limited.

He sighs, taking from the bedside table an empty vial of magical liquid that an old Bene Gesserit witch had given him. To connect with his soulmate in a dream.

As a little boy, he was prophesied that he would only become emperor if his soulmate stood by his side. Of course, his uncle and brother made it difficult for him to find you, believing it to be the mad ravings of an old witch. They said it wasn't the time, that he should train to be a warrior and not play some pathetic character into a romance history, that Giedi Prime needed him more, and that he shouldn't believe the old witches' prophecies and the stupid initials on his wrist. His uncle believes that he will bring him to the highest throne himself. That he doesn't need any whore whose initials match those on Feyd's wrist. That his soulmate will only weaken him.

Soulmates were rare on his 'home planet'. The baron didn't have his. His brother was too cowardly and inept to even think about looking for his own. People here rarely loved anyone other than themselves. Feyd was perfectly fine with it. Until visions began to haunt him in the night. About his soulmate. The hazy future he might have had began to plague him more and more often as he approached his age of maturity.

Before his father died and Feyd killed his mother, he remembers glimpses of good times. Where he was loved. Where he was the apple of his parents' eyes, who were each other's soulmates and loved each other more than life itself. So much so that after his father's death, his mother stopped living. She just existed, not paying attention to anything or anyone, including her own son. Her own blood… By killing her, Feyd ended her suffering and his own at the same time. Did he regret it? Not at all. Not after the training he received at the hands of the Baron.

He told himself that he only wanted to find you because he has promised a great future with you as his wife. That he has to have you if he wants to get to the top. But the passage of time only intensified his sense of loneliness. Longing for someone who is meant for him and who is supposed to be his and only his. Entirely. Willingly. Always by his side. He runs his fingertip thoughtfully over the initials tattooed on his wrist—a daily reminder of the one thing he wants most and which is out of his reach.

Feyd got used to always getting what he wanted. The ruthlessness and cruelty he learned under his uncle's supervision ensured that his every whim would be fulfilled. Either by himself or as a result of his service to the baron when he received gifts from him. But lately, he hasn't been happy with anything. He passively accepted the baron's praise, new concubines, blades, and other gifts. It no longer mattered to him. His ambitions began to grow. And after they had successfully disposed of House Atreides, Feyd realised the possibilities before him. Imperial throne. The promised golden future with his soulmate was within his reach. He just needed to find you and catch you in his iron grip.

You occupied his days, nights, and thoughts when he was fighting in the arena and at the extremely boring council meetings. And it's not like Feyd fell in love. He was incapable of love. Not after everything he's been through. But there was something irresistibly tempting about the idea of having someone who was completely HIS.

He considered it more of an obsession, a desire for something he had never had, something no one had shown him—care, affection, and devotion. And in his visions... in his visions he saw you giving him all these things. So he decided to make it a reality. And when he gets tired of you... he will always have the title of emperor, which you are destined to provide for him. He didn't know exactly how, and maybe he had previously dismissed the Bene Gesserit's prophecies and plots as a bunch of nonsense, but this one seemed... quite good to fulfil and to believe in.

"You asked for me, my na-baron." The artist he commissioned to draw your portrait stands in his doorway, shaking like jelly. He probably heard about how he killed one of his concubines this morning. Feyd had to start getting rid of them. After all, once he has you, he won't need them anymore.

"What took you so long?" He growls at him irritably as he gets out of bed and puts on a black silk robe. Maybe he would have laughed at the terrified man if his first encounter with you in dreams hadn't been so brutally interrupted. He had to find that old hag to give him more of that liquid...

"I arrived as quickly as I could, my lord na-baron. Please let me show you what I managed to create."

Feyd nods at him impatiently, letting him spread out his sketches on the desk. Feyd snaps his fingers at the maid waiting at the door. She pours him a glass of water, which he takes as he lazily saunters along the desk, assessing the sketches the man was supposed to create based on Feyd's description.

"The nose is too small. The jaw is too sharp. Is it supposed to be a woman? Burn it before I burn you. Breasts and hips are too big. Do you think my soulmate has a bulge? It looks like a caricature made by a child." He grades the drawings one by one, going through the dozens of sketches the artist has made over the past three days.

Just as Feyd is about to pick up the dagger from the chest of drawers nearby to kill an incompetent artist, he notices one particular portrait that almost perfectly captures you and your beauty. He takes it between two fingers and looks at it carefully.

"Hmm..." he hums, drinking water. He hands this drawing to the artist. "My congratulations, you managed to keep your head and prove your usefulness. Fix it. Eyes a little smaller, cheeky twinkle. I want a version of this in different outfits. Nobility, beggar, knight, whatever comes to your mind, except a whore, otherwise you'll end up like one. How long will it take you?"

"I…um…a week, my lord?" He almost rolls his eyes and loses his patience with him. If he had a dagger close at hand, he would definitely have plunged it into the man's throat by now.

"You only need one hand to draw. So don't test your lucky, or I will make sure you only have that one. I want to have portaits which fully reflects the beauty of my na-baroness by the end of the week - before I leave to Arrakis. Understood?" He asks, appreciating that the artist has the decency to at least show real fear.

"Yes, my na-baron."

"So don't waste my air."

The relieved artist quickly leaves the room before he changes his mind. Feyd nods to the maid, who follows the man and closes the door behind her. Feyd looks at the portraits on the desk again.

No higher families had a daughter who looked like you. So he had to expand the scope of his search and give orders to his soldiers to... gently capture you (or women like you) and bring them to him. After seeing you clearly in a dream, and not as the result of some distant vision of the future that wasn't that clear, he knew exactly what face he was looking for. He also had initials.

He was thinking about you as his fingertips traced the two precious letters on his wrist. He will find you. He'll look into any hole to do it. You cannot hide from him for long.

You jump up from your bed, your heart beating rapidly as you breathe heavily after waking up from another nightmare.

This went on for a week. You'd be transported from your usual nightmare about Arrakis and put into a black room with a Harkonnen who... was doing completely different things to you than they normally did.

You blush, wiping your sweaty forehead as you remember all the... almost lewd dreams you've had. You curse your imagination for coming up with such a terrible and embarrassing scenario. You began to fear that you were developing some sick desires towards a nation that brutally persecuted your brothers and sisters, disturbed your peace, and murdered more than one friend you had managed to make here.

You should be dreaming of killing them, not of being… groped and defiled by one of them. Especially on the day when you were supposed to rescue your people imprisoned by the Harkonnens.

"Karamakala." Your friend enters your tent. "Move your ass; they're calling for sandworm."

You roll your eyes when she calls you by your tribal name. Due to your… unique skills, the Naib of your sietch bestowed it on you. The miracle of the desert.

Your father wasn't happy about that. That name attracted attention he never wanted. He preferred it when you stayed in the shadows, away from the people you travelled with in the desert. The fact that he even allowed you to go on a rescue mission with them and others was a miracle. He made his decision only through the persuasion of your Naib, who said that only if you were coming with them would they have a chance to recover the prisoners and safely go back to your camp.

You and your friend left the tent fully prepared for the mission, joining the group while waiting for the sandworm to appear. You closed your eyes and took a few deep breaths, trying to feel the monster breaking through the sand. What you felt most strongly was the heartbeat of your companions, but when you focused a little more, you could feel a small heartbeat in the distance, buried several metres beneath the sands of Arrakis. You twist your fingers, controlling the flow of blood from the sandworm's arteries, trying to direct it more towards where you were waiting with your hooks to dig into its body.

"Save your strength for the Harkonnens." Your father's voice booms from behind your shoulder. You sigh and let your hand fall freely, stopping playing with the animal's blood. "I want you close to me; in my sight, no stupid heroic actions, okay? We're in and out as fast as all hell breaks loose, or we get our people back."

"It's just a small base. Even without being outnumbered, we would be able to kill them all."

"Not now. They changed power. Now the baron's youngest nephew gives the orders. A psychopathic, bloodthirsty madman. But he's a good strategist; you have to give him that. He took back control of parts of Arrakis that Muad'Dib had managed to retake, so Harkonnens now again have the lands they once took. And they are not going to stop until the Arrakis is completely theirs. If they go further south we will have to leave this planet." He speaks quietly, carefully observing the people around you. You frown, staring at him in surprise.

"But you said that here was the safest for us to live. Are we supposed to run away like cowards?" You ask indignantly.

He always presented you with a fait accompli, with a decision that he made for you. Which was supposed to be best for you and your safety. But you were tired of constantly running and hiding. You wanted to take your life into your own hands. Contribute to something rather than passively watching the decline of the people you grew up with.

"It is better to be a coward than to be a dead hero. Since you were born, all I have done is protect you. So don't doubt me, daughter. I know what I'm doing." Your father scolds you, readying your hooks as you see sand moving in the distance due to the sandworm's movements.

"It would be much easier if you told me what you are protecting me from, father." You scoff at him, getting even more angry when a sudden gust of wind sends sand flying across your face, stopping in your hair. Your father chuckles, at which you glare madly at him.

"From a fate that is not seeming to be very kind for you."

"Well sometimes we have to accept it." You position yourself next to him, preparing to attach yourself to the body of the sandworm that would take you to the small Harkonnen's military base.

"As long as I'm breathing, I won't let this happen. We create our fate. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise." He says that before you both find yourself on the animal's back. You hide your face behind scarves and safety glasses, preparing for the long road.

Your thoughts involuntarily wander to the Harkonnen you have been dreaming about lately. Maybe a sleep potion could help you get rid of those strange, erotic dreams where one of these monsters is trying to seduce you. You had to test it later.

Feyd takes a swing, driving his spiked whip into the body of a Fremen his men recently captured. He rarely deals with prisoners himself, but lately, when he drinks a Bene Gesserit potion every night just to meet you in his dreams, he feels... frustrated. And he knew of no better way than to take it out on his enemies.

He swings his whip. The man's moans come to him as he recalls his last encounter with you, from which he woke up a few hours ago.

He watches you from the darkness of the chamber. You look gorgeous wearing a black silk nightgown that hugs your body to the delight of his eyes. He notices the muscles you had to develop during combat or training. You must have been much more than just a delicate, pretty petal.

Which made him extremely happy. He liked a good fight. He enjoyed winning them even more.

He approaches you silently, as always, and wraps his arms around your waist. He hums contentedly against your ear, fingertips roaming your body as he makes sure you can't break away from his grip and you're pressed tightly against him.

"You should be used to me being close to you by now, my little warrior." He whispers in your ear, stopping you from fighting him in any way. He doesn't like the way you're so tense in his arms, but he's more than ready to coerce you, gently or not, into cooperating with him.

"Get your hands off me, Harkonen dog!" You growl, elbowing him between the ribs. Feyd grabs your wrists and twists them behind your back, making sure you can't move them. You gasp as he pushes you against the wall, pressing his growing length against your ass.

"Relax, I won't hurt you… yet. Keep acting like that, and I'll tie you up so you won't be able to struggle anymore." He whispers in his husky voice into your ear. He nuzzles your temple, trailing it to your neck. You hold your breath as you feel his teeth graze against your tender skin.

You know that in a moment he will sink his teeth into your body, that he will start marking you with tiny bites and hickeys. This time, however, you want to win the fight with him. You are fully ready to use against him everything you learned on Arrakis.

The moment his teeth pierce your skin, you reach for the blade at his side and push him away from you. You stick the blade out at him, making sure to make a cut on his shoulder before bringing the steel to his pale throat.

He chuckles darkly, watching you carefully as his fingers reach out to his thick black blood flowing from his wound. He licks the blood from his fingers, making sure your eyes follow the way his pink tongue wraps around his fingers, sucking the black liquid from them.

"Clever little thing… believe me, you don't want to know my wrath. Put it down. It's not a toy... well, not for you." He takes a step towards you. Before he manages to get any closer to you, you press the blade against his skin, causing a small cut along his jawline and at his Adam's apple.

Fascinated by the way the black blood flows gently down his throat, you don't notice as he knocks the dagger from your hand. He throws it behind him, causing it to fall to the floor with a thud as he reaches for you.

You growl, kicking, trying to break free from his grip as he carries you across the room. Your efforts intensify when you feel the smooth, velvety material of the sheets beneath you.

He hovers above you, one of his hands grabbing your wrists and pinning them to the mattress above your head. His hard length rubs against your core through the fabric of your clothes. You sigh, trying to push him away or bite him when he leans down to tease the skin of your neck again.

"You smell so beautiful, so different. My little soulmate. So fierce. So brave. My little warrior. I could teach you so many things… if only you would stop hiding from me." You shiver as his fingers trail under your black nightgown. He cups his hand around your breast and plays with your nipple, pinching and nibbling it, wanting to see the little pebbled mounds that lift the black fabric of your clothes. He rolls up the fabric of your nightgown and rubs himself against your bare core, groaning at the way you soak his pants with your unwanted arousal. He throws his shirt aside and grabs your throat in a tight grip, forcing you to look into his eyes whether you want to or not. "But you know what? No matter how far or fast you run, no matter how deep you hide, I will find you. I will find you in every corner of the world. I will follow you. Follow after every trace of you, whether you let me or not, and I WILL find you. I will catch you in my arms, I will dig my claws into you, and I will not let you go. Enjoy your freedom during the day, little warrior, while you still can. But in the darkness of the night, you are utterly mine."

You growl in anger, making one last attempt to fight him off. You lean towards him and bite down roughly on his neck. He groans, digging his fingers and nails into your hips, making you gasp as you feel him leave crescent-shaped marks on your skin.

You take advantage of his moment of inattention and dig your nails into his chest, dragging them across his collarbones and down to his abdominal muscles. You push him away from you, kicking him out of bed, and just as Feyd's head lands on the floor, he wakes up from his dream.

"Na-Baron. We… The Fremen attacked the south gate." One of his soldiers hesitantly approaches him. Feyd glances at him briefly, selecting his dagger from the body of a prisoner, but still watches the soldier out of the corner of his eye.

"What do you mean they attacked us?"

"These rats want to retrieve the transport of prisoners that arrived last week, my lord." The man replies, horrified by the calmness with which Feyd addresses him.

Everyone knew perfectly well that the young Na-Baron could compliment your fighting skills one moment and then slit your throat like nothing happened. He was dangerous in any state of humour. This was common knowledge and opinion that Feyd had been working on for a long time.

He didn't need a reason to do something.

"So gather two troops. Let's have some fun with them. It's not every day that they come willingly and eagerly to their slaughter." Feyd responds with a sneer, readying his blades. It was exactly what he needed—to take his frustration out on those rats who thought they could outsmart him and his men.

You run through the corridors of the Harkonnen's base from the soldiers with your friend by your side. They held your people for several days without water or food; most of them couldn't move on their own, so as soon as you saw a face you had known since childhood among the prisoners, you threw the man's arm over yours and dragged him to the place where the entire squad was supposed to gather.

You hold your breath and hide in one of the side corridors. You hold him close to you and breathe softly, trying not to attract anyone's attention. You manage to reach your group of men safely, but that's where your luck ends.

Within moments, a group of Harkonnens surrounds you. You must disperse. Each of you is on your own after you manage to attach your unconscious friends to a sandworm's body so they can survive the trip to your sietch.

You manage to avoid most of the Harkonnen soldiers, and you kill those who get in your way without blinking an eye. You're halfway to the second emergency exit you and your men had marked out before raiding the base when you bump into someone as you run to another corridor.

You gasp, trying to regain your balance. You freeze when you recognise the black Harkonnen's armour on the arms, which keeps you from falling to the floor. You look up and freeze, seeing the same blue irises that haunt you in your nightmares.

"Well, well... what do we have here?" You're shaking. His voice in real life is as hoarse, deep, and dark as in your nightmares. He is exactly as you dreamed of him. You hate the way your body somehow recognises him and automatically relaxes in his arms—the way his scent and closeness have become familiar to you.

You struggle in his arms and manage to push him away from you. You run as fast as you can, trying to lose him among the corridors. You hear his raspy laugh behind you before his quick footsteps begin to echo down the empty halls as he follows after you.

You scream as he lunges at you and pins you to the stone floor. You struggle under him, kicking and trying to scratch him, but he grabs your wrists in his strong grip.

"Take it easy, little warrior. We knew from the beginning how it would end. Do not move. I don't want to hurt you, but I will if you try to escape." You sigh, closing your eyes. You freeze, focusing on your surroundings, your mind racing as you wonder how to get out of his arms and this place. You shiver when you feel his nose brush against yours. "Exactly like this. Beautifully. That's my pretty girl. Who would have thought you would be one of those rats?"

"Be careful with your words." You growl, enduring the intense gaze of his blue eyes.

He laughs hoarsely and leans in. His full lips brush against yours in a kiss. First, he takes his time checking how far he can go, but when he sees that you are not trying to bite him, push him away, or run away, he deepens the kiss. His hand tangles in your hair, and the other frees your wrists to trace you through your Fremen attire.

For a moment, you allow yourself to lose yourself in the feeling of his lips, the way he caresses your lips so gently and with such passion, and the way he practically wants to devour you just because he actually can—that this is not one of your dreams but reality. A reality that Feyd was yearning for so long—too long—to even admit.

Eventually, however, you manage to break free from his strange charm. You run your hands down his chest to his hips. He moans into your mouth, entwining his tongue with yours. You reach for his dagger and stab him in the back without blinking an eye. You push him off of you, and, ignoring his growl, you get up and continue running away.

Your heart is beating like crazy, and your muscles are starting to ache from exerting yourself for so long, but you continue running until you can no longer hear any footsteps behind you. You sigh in relief as you reach a group of other Fremen. You are getting ready to evacuate; you are about to summon a sandworm when another group of Harkonnens attacks you again.

You look around in panic, searching for your father in the crowd, but you can't find him anywhere. Your heart speeds up, and adrenaline rushes through you, speeding up your reactions to the blows. You fight like crazy, not stopping even for a moment. However, you notice that slowly, the Harkonnens are starting to win. You signal to your companions and retreat into the desert. You release a small bomb whose main purpose is to raise the sand and create a cover for you.

The sands of Arrakis swirl around you. You run forward, trying to get as far away from the base as possible. As far away from HIM as possible.

Your lungs hurt from the sand you inhale. You want to cough and cry from the sand getting into your eyes, but you don't stop running. You gasp as the sand beneath your feet suddenly begins to move strangely. Strangely familiar. You curse under your breath, realising that the sandworm is about to appear in a second.

And suddenly, you feel like being back in your nightmare. You see the mouth of a sandworm again. You stare at his teeth again, a black abyss that is soon going to swallow you completely. You stand there frozen, completely forgetting about all your training, as if you had accepted a long time ago that this is how you were going to die.

And everything happens exactly as in your nightmare. Only this time, as you surrender to the darkness around you, you hear the roar of the ship's engine and the harsh language of the Harkonnens when you pass out.

You feel your head pounding. Huge pain, as if thousands of tiny needles were being stuck into your temples. You open your eyes, squinting as you adjust to the dimness around you. Judging by the immense pain you felt, you definitely weren't dead. Or you did, and you were in hell now; you weren't sure yet. You look around you, noticing a fire in the middle of the small cave you were in. You lean back on your elbows and freeze when you see Harkonnen's bald, pale head.

You get up silently and move to where your gun was, looking carefully at the man kneeling by the radio who was trying to transmit a signal. With a knife in your hand, you begin to examine your surroundings more closely. You notice that the entrance to the cave has been blocked by a ship. If you wanted to escape, you had to get past or kill Harkonnen and guide the ship out of this place.

"If I were you, I wouldn't do that, little warrior." A shiver runs through you as you hear the familiar, raspy voice that has tormented you in your dreams many times. You tighten your grip on the blade's handle and point the tip of it at him, maintaining your fighting stance. "You have a torn ankle ligament, a minor concussion, and you're dehydrated. Even with your knowledge of the desert, you won't survive there when a sandstorm rages. Here." He turns to you for a moment and throws the water bottle at you. You grab it with one hand, still eyeing him warily.

He speaks something in his language; you only manage to recognise a few words, such as Na-Baron, Dune, reinforcements, ship, and your location data. When he finishes, he stands up, turns to you, and furrows his hairless eyebrows, watching you closely.

"Drink. You'll feel better." He says this and sits down by the fire as if nothing had happened. You blink a few times, staring at him in shock as you try to understand why he acts so strangely... calm. You step back and hiss as your foot goes out of alignment, straining the torn muscle. "I told you so."

"Where are we?" You ask, wincing at the sound of your hoarse voice. He stares pointedly at the bottle of water in your hands, but you'd rather die than try anything he gave you.

He sighs, annoyed, and stands up. You raise your knife, pointing it at him as he starts to walk towards you. However, he doesn't stop, only when the tip of the blade pierces gently into his chest. He reaches for the water bottle and unscrews it. He takes a small sip and licks his lips, giving you a glimpse of his black teeth.

"Not far from our base. Your people summoned a sandworm. If I hadn't flown the ship to you and taken you away, it would have swallowed you. A moment later, a sandstorm came, and I had to take us to a safe place. We'll wait it out here, and you'll come back with me to the main stronghold. So be a good girl and listen to me while I feel like going easy on you. I guess you can do this for me for saving you, right, my desert rose?"

"You do one decent thing and expect me to submit to you? I didn't ask you to save me, and besides, I think in the grand scheme of things, one saved life doesn't do anything to make up for the many others that you took." You reply furiously and take the water bottle from him. You take a few sips, appreciating the way it soothes the dryness of your chapped lips and throat.

"Said the woman who killed 10 of my men with a small knife." He replies, amused. His eyes linger on your mouth for a moment as you lick your lips, spreading the holy water across them. Feyd has a strong desire to lean in and kiss you; maybe even let you stick your little knife into him...

"It's not my fault they are so incompetent." You say, pushing past him and walking towards the fire. The night was starting to fall, and it was starting to get colder in the cave. You sit next to the fire, wrapping your arms around yourself and staring into the flames as you try to ignore HIS presence.

"Things I could do to you…" He mumbles to himself as you brush your arm against his. Your scent reaches his nostrils, and Feyd closes his eyes, inhaling it like a drug. He imagines things he wanted to do to you, things that would make him feel more closely that sweet scent coming from you.

Goosebumps appear on your skin as he takes a few steps closer to you and stands behind you. You try to ignore him, but the burning sensation where his initials are carved into your wrist keeps you from forgetting who the Harkonnen you are trapped with is. You tense as he drops to his knees next to you. He places his hand on your ankle, and you almost make a move to kick him when you feel his low growl in your ear.

"Relax. I just want to check your leg. You almost lost it in the mouth of a sandworm." With one hand, he pushes you to lean against his chest. You reluctantly let him, becoming more and more aware of the burning sensation in your leg.

He takes off your shoe and places it in your hands. He takes his time, slowly peeling off the layers of fabric. You are surprised to see that you already have a dressing—a dressing that is soaked in your blood. You shiver, feeling his fingertips on your skin as he unwraps the bandage. You hiss as he tears the fabric away from your slick skin, fully showing you your wound. A few centimetres deeper, and you wouldn't be able to move it.

"I need to disinfect this again. When we get back to base, we'll give you the anti-venom serum." He hums, leaving you for a moment. He walks over to the ship and pulls out a first-aid kit. You wince as you move so you can rest your back against the cave wall.

"I'm not coming back with you anywhere." You growl, still gripping your knife tightly, though in your current state, you realise you're not that much of a threat to him. He snorts at your response, kneeling down next to you. You bite your lip as he disinfects your wound and begins to bandage it.

"Hush, little warrior. You're talking nonsense because of the effects of the venom." His condescending tone makes your blood boil. You tilt your leg to make it harder for him to bandage you, and he just gives you a furious look before returning to his task without a word. You frown, staring at him. To be honest, you would rather expect him to stab you, cut you into pieces, and eat you than voluntarily take care of you and your health.

"Why are you doing this?" He stops what he's doing and looks at you like you're an idiot, like you asked the most absurd question possible.

He reaches for your hand. You tense up, ready to elbow him in the teeth, but you stop when you see him gently roll up the fabric of your linen shirt and wrap his hand around your wrist. You shiver as his thumb strokes the initials on your wrist.

"Can't you guess, a snarky little thing?" You remove your hand from his grip and hug your knees to your chest, curling into a ball and watching him warily.

"You do not know me. You kill people like me without blinking an eye."

"I do." He says, staring at you intensely, as if that fact had no significance and shouldn't affect your opinion of him. "And you kill people like me. I guess we can call it even."

"I do it only because you are invading our land and people! You are desecrating our holy places; you have no respect for our culture; you treat us worse than... don't look at me like that." You whisper the last sentence, moving closer to the wall as he leans into you. You swallow, shifting your gaze from his blue irises to his bloody hands. Large, rough, bloody hands. Bloody hands that could touch you so well in your dreams.

"Like what?" He asks hoarsely, reaching his hand to cup your cheek. You shiver as he spreads your burgundy blood there. You close your eyes and breathe shakily, which is your biggest mistake. He takes advantage of your distraction and leans down to lick the blood from your cheek.

He moves away from you. His eyes are locked on you as he wraps his lips around the finger of his other hand. You lick your lips involuntarily, watching him lick your blood from his fingers. You shake your head and clear your throat, moving away from him as far as you can, feeling one of the rocks dig into your back.

"Like that." You mutter, shifting your gaze to the flames in the fire.

"Why?"

"You know why. We… we are from two completely different worlds."

"Are we?" He asks, moving closer to you. You shiver as his arms wrap around you, and he rests his chin on your shoulder. His warm breath against your ear makes you feel warmer—something you don't want to admit to yourself and something he noticed the moment your shoulders shuddered slightly at the coldness emitting from the cave walls. You still hold the knife stubbornly in your hand, as if it would somehow protect you from Harkonnen.

You sit there in silence. You let him cuddle you, enjoying a little of the warmth he gives you. You sigh, trying to ignore how good you felt in his arms and how his scent enveloped you nicely, making your eyes close on their own. However, you try to remain vigilant, still unable to trust him in any way.

You sigh as he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you closer to his chest. He lies down on the blanket he spread for you earlier and covers you with the other one, making sure that you are comfortable and warm. You don't try to argue with him or get out of his arms. You know there's no point in fighting him. It's starting to get colder, and he's becoming a better source of heat with each minute you are in his arms.

You know that if anyone in your sietch saw you right now, cuddled up to the Harkonnen, sharing your body heat with him, you would be banished, maybe even sentenced to death for associating with the enemy.

You had very conflicted feelings about him. Your mind was screaming at you, telling you to come to your senses and plunge your knife into Harkonnen's heart while you had the chance, but your heart, a strange instinct, was drawing you to him, encouraging you to bury your face in the crook of his neck and listen to his soft breathing.

Your heart speeds up slightly as he reaches out to intertwine his hand with yours, the one that still holds the knife. He pulls you closer to him, his arms trapping you in an iron-tight embrace. His lips brush against your earlobe as he whispers to you, his husky tone of voice giving you goosebumps.

"Are you afraid of me, my little warrior?"

You swallow and close your eyes, grateful that he can't see your face, which is blushing involuntarily. You wonder what's wrong with you to react to him like this and why the mark of your soulmate, or rather, his initials on your wrist, burns you hotter than the sun of Arrakis has ever done.

"Of course I am. You're a Harkonnen. You are our greatest enemy. I hate you just as much as I fear you."

"And as much as you desire me?" A gasp escapes your lips as his other hand is suddenly under your clothes. You can't help but moan as his fingertips tease your bundle of nerves, gradually moving to the spot where your juices ungodly and humiliatingly leak out of you. Your water. "You think I can't smell you? That I don't see the way you tremble every time I touch you? The way warmth radiates from you every time I'm this close? I may not have known you here while awake, but I know you from our dreams. I recognise your every little reaction to me, to my touch, to my kisses. And what's more, my little warrior, you are breaking more than one law of your people. You give me your water in such a sinfully delicious way, and you don't even know my name."

You squirm in his arms, but he holds you tightly with his other hand, so all you do is rub against his hand in your feeble attempt to escape. You tighten your grip on the knife, but that's all you can do as he explores areas of you no one has ever had access to before. You're helpless, too dizzy from the sudden, intense pleasure he also gave you in your dreams. You never thought you could feel such... sensations while awake. Pleasant experiences.

"Maybe I should give you something you can moan and scream, hmm? Tell me, sweetheart, do you want to know whose fingers are touching you? Who do you give your precious water to? Who showed you things in our dreams that you would be ashamed to mention to your people?"

It's embarrassing. The way he made you melt under his touch. All you could do was moan and grind against his hand as he brought you immense pleasure. You move your hand with the knife and press the blade against his neck at the back of his head. You trace patterns on the skin of his bald head with your finger, resting your head on his shoulder as a wave of an unfamiliar feeling washes over you, cutting off all your senses. All you can feel is your core and his fingers as they continue to push into your depths, intensifying your indescribable pleasure.

"Feyd." He whispers into your ear, biting the lobe. You repeat his name stupidly, moaning and screaming it as he teases your over-aroused core, making your water flow out of you uncontrollably a second time, wetting your pants and his hand.

When he finally removes his hand from your pants, you shiver uncontrollably, curled up on his chest. You breathe quickly, staring at the cave's stone ceiling, waiting for your brain to finally reconnect with your body. You gasp as he pushes his fingers through your mouth, forcing you to taste yourself.

"Don't waste your water. Sweet, right, little warrior? When we get home, I'll spend a week between those beautiful legs. You'll wrap them tight around me, won't you? Will you dig your heels and claws into me, pressing my face against this wonderful source of water in this damn desert?" The way he talks to you, so blatant and disgusting, should make you stab a knife into his throat without a moment's hesitation. Instead, you let the blade fall next to his head as you tried to recover from what you just experienced. You're warm. Hot. And you want more. You need more.

He takes your hand and guides it to the bulge in his pants. You sigh, feeling all of his glory. And suddenly you feel extremely empty.

"Mmm… another time. Sleep." He mumbles and presses a kiss on your temple. His arms wrap painfully tight around you as he makes sure there is no space between you. The cocoon of blankets keeps you warm from your... last sensation at his hands. And you feel as embarrassed about it as you feel comfortable lying in the warmth.

You allow yourself to listen to his calm breathing. He don't fall asleep. Neither do you. You both wait to see who will faint from exhaustion first, and as much as you want to surrender to sleep, you know that the moment you close your eyes, you seal your fate forever. You will irreversibly become Harkonnen's prisoner.

Feyd's prisoner. Na-Baron's captive. You don't want this fate.

So close your eyes, relax your muscles, and slow down your breathing. Pretending to fall asleep is all you can fool him with, because yes, he saw you in your dreams in various situations and knew you inside and out, but he didn't know one thing. He didn't know what you looked like when you fell asleep.

You didn't know what he looked like when he was sleeping either, so you took a little risk with your not-so-well-thought-out plan, but you knew it was the only way to somehow escape from Harkonnen's grasp.

You wait a bit for him to relax, too. He puts his chin on your head, hugging you like some cuddly toy. But you know better than to assume that these monsters have some cuddly toys. If anything, teethers with spikes.

You lie there for a good few minutes, maybe even hours, going over your escape plan in your head. You breathe calmly, thinking about what you will do if you fail... you can always stab yourself if things don't go your way.

You quickly reach for the knife and plunge it into his knee. You twist it, damaging his joint, so he can't follow you, and you stand up. His screams and growls make you ignore the pain in your leg and run towards the ship that was blocking the exit. Somehow you manage to open it, your hands shaking as you unlock the door. Somehow he manages to get up and walk towards you, approaching dangerously fast, but you are more agile than him. You lock yourself inside the ship, break the window on the other side, and run forward.

You ignore his screams and threats and run deep into the desert, knowing full well that he won't catch up with you. The sandstorm had long ended, and the sun had risen again over Arrakis. You were in your territory; you were unstoppable.

You feel remorse, but only a little. You know perfectly well that the Harkonnens were incapable of love. You would be his prey and nothing else. You had to run away from him as far as you could.

And if he wanted to chase you? You would let him.

He could follow you wherever he wanted, but here on Arrakis, he could never catch you. And you really hoped you wouldn't have to run away from him to another planet.

[lo1k-diamonds]

Down Bad 💜 PJM (Part 1)

Kissing you was not on the agenda, and it threw him off. How the fuck was he supposed to let go of you now?

PAIRING: Vampire!Jimin x human(f)reader

SUMMARY: You find the cure to your clumsiness in becoming Jimin’s dance partner. But twirling in his arms risks more than just your heart, especially after he bites you.

WORD COUNT: 18.7k (Total: 31.5 k)

GENRE:  Soulmates AU, angst, smut

RATING: R (explicit)

WARNINGS: typical vampire-related warnings (blood, biting, scents, feral moments), arguing, fighting, graphic depictions of cuts, bites, and wounds (including blood), angst, multiple smut scenes (unprotected sex), including praise kink, oral (f rec), penetrative sex, pleading, bit of a dom!Jimin

A.N. Here we have it, my Christmas gift this year. For some reason, I've been... unexpectedly insecure about my writing, so this story was somewhat... more difficult to perfect than usual. I'd like to thank @downbad4yoongi, @pars-ley, @colormepurplex2 and @hisunshiine for working through it with me and helping me reach this final version - by far the most fleshed-out and intriguing, even if it became huge. Also thank you to @itaeewon for the beautiful banner! This is my entry in the upcoming @bangtanwritershq 4th Quarter Writing Event: Monster Mash!

Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad | Scroll my stories on Tumblr | Schedule and WIPs

“Hey! Good to see you!”

You smiled at Jung Hoseok and adjusted the strap of your gym bag on your shoulder with a small smile. His pearly whites showed a gorgeous smile that once wouldn’t have had you wondering how he hid his nature so well.

“He’s already here in the backroom with a few other contestants,” Hoseok continued as he circled the reception counter of his gym to reach you. “Do you need help with anything? Need to change?”

“Changed at home,” you replied quietly, motioning the hands still inside the pockets of your closed coat. It was freezing outside due to the snow, and you still didn’t have the guts to open it up. Your toes were blueish from the chill, and you wiggled them a little; maybe you shouldn’t have put on your open-toed heels before coming.

“Alright, good.” He nodded affably before raising his hand in the direction of the corridor you knew so well. Still, he walked side by side with you, intending to escort you. “How was your Christmas?”

You told him about your grandmother’s wailing, entirely compensated by her delicious cooking, and how you helped your sister with your baby nephew. “He just looks at me with such wide eyes, and I instantly feel like a fraud, you know?”

You huffed, a bit discouraged, as Hoseok laughed and pushed the door open. 

“There she is.” Taehyung grinned, skipping in your direction. He was the image of tall perfection, hiding a soft teddy bear personality underneath his dazzling eyes and handsome features. Some were just born like this, and you doubted his nature was the only reason for it. “I thought you might get cold feet.”

“My feet are pretty cold,” you mumbled, looking down, and he chuckled, eying Hoseok, who was smiling too.

“Are you ready?”

Taehyung towered over you as he stood by your side and waved Hoseok away, and the strain on your neck from looking up reminded you of how this was supposed to be different. How you had been excited about this moment for a year; trained, planned, dreamt of it… Only for it to turn out so different. 

Only for that uncomfortable strain to make you grimace slightly and press your fingers into the back of your neck. “Yeah, let’s warm up.”

You let him guide you across the room, then put your bag down and draped your coat over a chair, revealing your red, sparkling dress that ended just above your knee. You had to rub your arms for some warmth, and Taehyung waited for you without touching you, and you appreciated him for it. You knew he wouldn’t do anything inappropriate, but…

You sighed and raised your arms, signaling you were ready, and he grabbed your hand. He spun you a few times to loosen you up, then pulled you closer to start what you instinctively assumed were a few of your Cha-cha-cha choreography moves. 

It wasn’t enough to pull your thoughts away from the pit they invariably fell back into. Taehyung wasn’t the problem; he had always been respectful and treated you with utmost care. Jimin picked him after everything that happened, and you trusted his judgement. After all, Jimin—

You were twirled across the dance floor, spinning beautifully with your delicate arms floating at your sides as you were supposed to, but then you gasped. Your heels didn't find purchase on the floating wood floor; you were spinning too fast. You couldn’t discern Taehyung in the blur around you nor call out to him, overwhelmed as you were. Your arms flailed, further taking you off course, and suddenly, a smear of a reflection caught your eye right before your right side collided with an immovable object. Whatever you smashed into sent you sprawling on the floor in an unceremonious heap.

You groaned and closed your eyes to avoid the wave of nausea that threatened to sweep over you, then felt a few shattered glass pieces falling from above you like a short drizzle. For a second, you were too dazed to comprehend what just happened. But then you winced and sat up, feeling countless prickling sensations all over your leg, arm, shoulder, and even your cheek.

You winced as something sharp dug into your skin, and you turned your palm up. Dusting off whatever debris and mirror glass had bothered you there made you aware of the big glass shard nestled into your arm's soft flesh.

Someone kneeled beside you, but you didn’t hear them. Your first instinct was to remove the foreign body from your arm, and as the glass clinked on the floor, you gasped.

“Shit!” You were surprised, pressing your palm to your arm to stop the torrent of dark crimson blood.

It dripped between your fingers, and you looked up, searching for help, but what you found cooled you to the bone. Taehyung had shifted back, still on his knees, and one look into his eyes told you everything you needed to know before your eyes drifted across the other contestants. Some were the same as him, hence why they were frozen, unnaturally static as they observed you.

Your eyes turned back to Taehyung; he winced, and that was good enough for you.

You jumped to your feet with as much speed as you could muster, regardless of pain, and stormed out of there without bothering to look back. Sounds of struggle still reached your ears before the heavy doors closed behind you, but you kept running down the hallway. People would stop to look at you; some were frozen inside their classes or in the machines room, and so you kept running with fear gripping your heart. You couldn’t tell how they were looking at you, seeing that there were one-way mirrors between you. No one should know you were on this side, running, and yet there they were, with their eyes fixed on your rushing form. It made your stomach twist, and suddenly, it felt as though everyone was the predator, with only you left as the prey.

You rushed for the exit but quickly realized by the looks of the people you crossed along the way that you’d never make it. You knew what the sting of a bite felt like, but at that time you were elated, in love; this would be different. You were safe with Jimin, no matter what he said, but he wasn't here. He left you, and those were different. 

This would be the death of you.

So, in a last-ditch effort, you swerved left and disappeared behind a door that said, Staff Only. You raced down the stairs and reached the basement, where a boiler room lay quietly under the purr of plenty of machines. You didn’t care how dark and damp it was; you used your whole strength and body weight to push the old, stuck metal door closed, then pulled the lever into place so the door would be locked.

Your heart raced inside your chest louder than the machines, and as your breathing calmed, you considered if maybe your reaction was disproportionate.

But then a smack to the door, what sounded like someone trying to push it open, startled you into jumping away from it. You could swear you heard hisses and growls, though who knew over the noise? Still, you backed away to the opposite corner and sat on the floor, curling your knees to your chest, and fought the tears as you pressed your wound again.

You had no idea how to get yourself out of this one. Maybe a friendly vampire would come to get you out.

14 months earlier

“Take my hand.”

Jiyu’s voice from above made you sniffle and look around. The waiter you collided harshly with was already sitting up and apologizing profusely while he stayed on his knees to collect the glass and porcelain shards all over the floor. A few colleagues of his were helping him and while the manager tried apologizing to you, and Jiyu smiled and reassured her, you kept your eyes low.

The entrance bell chimed with the old lady you had dodged leaving the café slowly, and your eyes fell on the treacherous step responsible for the whole ordeal.

“Hey,” Jiyu called your name, drawing your attention to her hand. You finally took it and allowed her to pull you to stand. “Are you burned?”

You looked down; besides the brown stains and whipped cream on your white blouse, you were fine.

“I’m not, it’s fine.”

She nodded, a sigh of relief crossing her lips quietly, before she ran a hand through her long, black hair. “This can't continue. I mean it,” she insisted when you scoffed playfully. This was your daily life; you were too clumsy to take two steps without tripping. “I don't think you'll survive me moving out.”

“I’ll be fine,” you retorted automatically.

You knew of her worries about you, but it was becoming silly. Sure, you were the type to collide with waiters, almost get run over by bikes, and constantly have things go wrong. But that didn’t mean Jiyu should not move in with her fiancé just to stay by your side.

After a million apologies from both the waiter and you, Jiyu finally opened the door for you to exit into the early evening ahead of her. The bell chimed above her head, and she said, “You know what? You’re coming with me.”

“Where?” you asked curiously.

“My Zumba class,” she revealed as she laced her arm with yours.

You were effectively dragged with her. “No, I’m— I’m not good at it and— I’m not sporty like you and—”

“Maybe that’s the problem!”

Her humor didn’t resonate with you as you both crossed the street to make your way to your apartment. “But I have nothing to wear!”

She snorted, “But I do.” She could feel your shoulders squaring as you walked stiffly beside her, and she poked you with her elbow. “Come on, it will be fun! I promise!”

When two hours later your ass met the floor for the fourth time that day, you groaned and knew it would be blue and sore in the morning. You were confused, not about sitting on the floor, but by the turn of events. Exercising was supposed to help you, but you couldn’t follow the instructor’s directions while moving and making sure to stay in your assigned spot. Jiyu was next to you and tried helping, but you stumbled over your own feet. Not even she could save you from yourself.

And her worried eyes as she reached out to check on you only made you feel worse.

“Maybe you should rest a bit.”

You accepted the instructor's hand to get back on your feet and left the room, hearing them resume class as you grabbed your things and wandered off to the reception to wait for Jiyu.

“Hey!”

You turned to look at the tall, gentle-smiled man at the reception. Jiyu had called him Hoseok, and he was very nice — he owned the place and let you try the class for free.

“Shouldn’t you be in class? It’s not eight yet.” He checked the clock on the wall behind him before turning back to you with raised eyebrows above inquisitive eyes. “What’s the matter?”

“I just… I’m no use,” you confessed with tearing eyes and a quivering chin. You were tired and sad, and Jiyu was probably disappointed besides worried.

“What? Nonsense! How about coffee? Come with me.”

You normally wouldn’t have gone, but you were feeling so low that it was easy to drag your feet behind him into a new hallway. He was cheerful and comforted you the whole time as he took you to the staff break room, even taking your arm to pull you out of the way of a door that abruptly opened across the hall.

He sat down with you after pouring you both coffees, and as you explained your plight to him, he listened attentively.

“Hmmm,” he mused. “Jiyu had the right idea, but to start by attending an advanced Zumba class was not the right move. But dancing is definitely the way to go — it will strengthen your core muscles and help you with your coordination. How about private classes?”

You looked down at your half-drunk coffee and sulked further. “I don’t know.” You remembered the look on the waiter’s face, and your shoulders slumped. “How can I do that to them?”

“Who? The dance instructor?” Hoseok burst out laughing before giving you a gorgeous grin. “Don’t worry. He’s perfectly equipped to handle it. In fact, I know just the one. He can do miracles.”

He kept selling this trainer to you, mentioning the many dance competitions he had won and how he was the gentlest, most patient soul, having worked so hard to be such a good dancer, and eventually, you nodded. Your sad eyes raised to meet his, and you gritted your teeth in determination; you could do it. He was a professional, after all, and you wanted to fix this annoying trait about yourself.

A week after your first encounter with Hoseok, you were back at the gym for your first class and you were a bit nervous. Jiyu advised you to take comfortable clothes and sneakers, and you even picked an oversized jumper just so you could hide your hands in the sleeves in case you started picking at your nails or the skin surrounding them.

Hoseok walked you to the dance room and kept it casual, reassuring you that this would be great for you, and while you wanted to listen to him, you couldn’t. The most stunningly handsome man had just entered the room with the gentlest smile as he neared you both, and you forgot how to breathe. He talked about something with Hoseok, and you kept blinking up at him, mesmerized. He raked his fingers through dark, lush strands of hair to pull them out of equally dark eyes of such an intensity that your heart skipped a beat. And yet, while his eyes and beauty were off the charts, his smile was dazzling, gentle, and warm. Everything about him glowed grace and delicateness, especially as his soft hair fell over his eyes as he crouched, searching for something inside a duffel bag nearby. You couldn’t stop looking at him and wondered if you’d be so lucky to have him.

“Oh, this is Jimin,” Hoseok said apologetically, probably noticing you were lost. “He’ll be your instructor this evening.”

Jimin glanced at you and smiled, and your stomach did cartwheels, hitching your breath. Something warm made you flush as you shuddered from head to toe with a single thought in your head — him close, eyes closed, kissing you and nuzzling you like you were his whole world.

He got up, giving something to Hoseok, and you blinked, rubbing your cheeks in an effort to ground yourself. Those thoughts were completely inappropriate and—

“What’s your name?”

You peered up at him and stammered your name out.

He simply smiled again and extended his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

You grabbed his hand with your eyes transfixed on his, and Hoseok raised an eyebrow beside you, shaking his head softly.

“You’re set, have an amazing time! And don’t be hard on yourself. You’re only just starting.”

Those last words as the door closed behind him broke your trance away and made you swallow dryly. Even then, you didn’t want to make a fool out of yourself in front of Jimin.

“He’s right.” Jimin smiled to put you at ease, but his next words made your stomach twist with nervousness. “I’ve heard you’re a bit clumsy.”

“That’s an understatement,” you mumbled instantly, and he smirked.

“Let’s see, shall we? I’ll turn the music on.”

You bit the inside of your lip as you tried to focus on his instructions, but it was hard. The fear of messing up was too great; you felt like a kid on the first day of school.

You should have known your clumsiness would have flared even harder in the presence of an instructor; you were as good as cursed. Tripping on your suddenly untied shoelaces after not even ten steps into the warm-up routine was just devastating.

At least until Jimin laughed and picked you up from the floor by pulling your hands. “Oh, I see. This is going to be fun.”

Your big eyes looked up at him in wonder, but then he kneeled, turning his gaze down so he could tie your shoes for you. Your cheeks flushed even more as you stammered quiet thank yous, and in a flash, he was done. 

He smiled contentedly at you. “Ready?”

You hurried to get back in position by his side, and everything got back on track. That was possibly the first time you didn’t feel embarrassed or apologetic for tumbling down. On the contrary, you wanted to laugh it out, too. 

When the class ended, you felt quite good about yourself. You were tired and sweaty, but your smile was as big as his. You couldn’t recall his words of encouragement throughout, or the amount of times you tripped or stumbled, only that you were dead set on feeling like that again. Especially by his side.

Hoseok entered the room not long after the music stopped. He found Jimin toweling his face as you drank water and seemed pleased. “So?”

Jimin looked at you, giving you a subtle nod to share your thoughts, and you tried not sounding as eager as you felt, “I liked it…”

Hoseok nodded as though he expected more information, and glancing at Jimin, he caught the hint of a hidden smile disappearing under the towel. “Alright… so, second class?”

“Sounds good,” Jimin agreed, putting the towel over his shoulders and hanging onto it. “In two days?”

You nodded as unenthusiastically as you could and, after settling a few details, left the two men to go home. 

*****

Hoseok turned to Jimin as soon as you walked out the door and asked again, “How was it?”

Jimin’s eyes were still on the door. His silence made Hoseok tilt his head, intrigued by the weird turn of events. Your reaction to Jimin wasn’t entirely implausible — Jimin was undeniably charming; it was only natural to stare and drool. But Jimin’s reaction to you was odd. Why would he ask your name when Hoseok had already told him? Not to mention, Jimin was not the type to get close to his students. He was not touchy with them and was usually distanced and professional — so why would he choose to take your hand rather than just to bow? The way he lingered with that connection while looking at you was all the weirder, but it continued even now that you had left, with his eyes fixed on the door as though he could still see you walking away behind it.

Jimin finally licked his lips and grabbed his bag. “She’s…”

Jimin seemed distracted while he searched for words and Hoseok tried helping, “Clumsy—”

“A ray of—”

Hoseok’s eyebrows twitched in surprise. “What?”

Jimin began walking away, and it seemed to Hoseok like he wanted to escape that conversation. 

So he followed him. “Hey, if you’re uncomfortable because she’s—”

“No,” Jimin’s reply was instant as he stopped to face his hyung. “She’s just… the clumsiest ray of sunshine I’ve ever seen.”

Hoseok nodded slowly. “It’s not often we get to see that…”

Jimin’s jaw twitched, but he said nothing else, and Hoseok let him go. Both knew he was not just talking about the sun, but whatever else was happening, Jimin preferred to stay quiet.

12 months earlier

So you started your tri-weekly meet-ups. You appreciated Jimin agreeing always to have the class at the same time after dinner, which made it easier for you with work. No matter how many times you tripped on your feet or lost your balance from a simple side step, you didn’t give up. His hand catching you every time before you could get hurt was surely a reason for you to not hold back, but even as it became less necessary, you found he was always there, supporting you however you needed.

It started fun and cheeky, back when he still needed to catch you multiple times per lesson. Two months later, he still occasionally teased you about your stiff Hip Hop moves but never made you feel bad about yourself. On the contrary, he smirked every time you needed him and eyed you in this way that always warmed your cheeks, especially when an arm circled your waist or a hand wrapped around your wrist.

“I’m going back to my hometown to visit my family for Christmas, so this is our last lesson of the year.” You smiled just as he stopped the music.

He returned to you with a gentle nod. “That sounds fun.”

You scoffed playfully, “Hardly. My older sister is pregnant, so I have no drinking buddy for New Year's Eve.”

He smirked as you put everything inside your duffel bag and got out a thin jacket. “Maybe you need a new one.” You put the jacket on despite still feeling so hot, and increasingly so; was he offering? “How about dancing with somebody new?”

You physically recoiled but disguised it as just adjusting the jacket before you grabbed your thick winter coat. “And risk stepping on their feet? No, thanks.”

“What if they want you to?”

You looked at him quizzically, and he raised his hands, beckoning you closer.

Your heartbeat still quickened whenever he’d look at you with that playful smile dancing on his lips, and as usual, you took his hand, letting him have his way.

He pulled you closer, causing you to lose your balance and step on his foot. You gasped, about to apologize and pull back, but he grinned and pulled your hand to force your balance to shift. Your foot pressed into his harder as your other foot raised from the floor, and he pulled you flush to his chest. Your other hand pressed to his firm chest, making you huff and look up. All that awaited you was a gentle smile and sparkling eyes. Then his eyebrows raised playfully, and you gasped.

You were floating. No, you were hovering. Your feet rested on his, lulling you to a mimicry of a slow dance. His arms stayed around your waist, supporting your back gently, and you looked up at him again with stars in your eyes. That was the first time you danced with someone.

The holidays came and went, as did the stroke of midnight, without a dance or a kiss in sight, but you didn’t want them. Jimin just chuckled when you revealed the lack of a dancing partner on those occasions, hence no reason to dance, but you had sheepishly shrugged. You didn’t want to dance with anyone else.

You realized you harbored feelings for your dance instructor. Almost three months into your classes, it was hard not to. Your sister noticed something was up; you were at ease with her and uninterested in partying, and she tried poking you, but you had nothing to say. Jiyu had suspicions, and once you told her the truth of the matter, she had just sighed. She had moved out with a clear conscience since you were at significantly less risk of injuring yourself, but now she was worried about something else.

“It’s harmless, innocent, I promise,” you told her when you visited her to see her new place.

“I just don’t like the power dynamic… You pay him to teach you, and he has a role of authority.”

“So… you’re saying he’d never look at me twice if he wasn’t paid to and that he has power over me because he can dance better than me?”

She huffed in frustration, “You know exactly what I mean.”

You shrugged. “You may be right on the first part—”

“That’s not what I—”

“— but it doesn’t change anything. I’m not paying him to go on dates with me. Nothing is ever going to happen, I know that.”

It hurt you a little bit to admit that, but you were at peace with it. You thought there was no harm in your crush until you realized that every week of improvement brought the inevitable end to your classes. Of course, he would have better things to do than spend three hours a week with you. After all, being less clumsy did not make you a worthy dance partner for such a fantastic professional.

But to your surprise, he suggested something else once you could do Zumba, Hip Hop, and Cize.

“I want us to try this,” he suggested with his bottom lip between his teeth as he showed you a colorful poster. It featured a couple entwined in a dance, and reading it, you gasped.

“What?”

“It’s a regional competition of Latin dance styles. I’d like us to participate.”

You widened your eyes at him. “I can’t do that!”

“Would I have suggested it if I didn’t know you could?”

His intense dark eyes felt like a caress down your neck, and you sighed. “If you think so…”

“I know so.” He put down the poster, and you shrugged.

“I guess we can try—”

He grabbed your hands and pulled you closer. “We can do it. We have the whole year to train.”

Your heart was beating so fast, flushed to his chest again while looking up at him. Naively, you thought maybe he also didn’t want the lessons to end. He surely didn’t have to be so enthusiastic about it, telling you all about his ideas for the competition. He had so many ideas, he had already taken notes of some choreography moves he wanted to train with you and the styles he thought would suit you best. Jimin was excited about spending the next year training with you, and it made you smile.

10 months earlier

“Ugh, it’s just no use!”

You pushed yourself off Jimin and turned away with annoyance gritting your teeth. Your dress swooshed around you as the taps that always accompanied your steps made you cringe, and even Jimin's soft voice didn’t make it go away.

“Stop worrying about it.”

“I can’t!”

You couldn’t even face him; you didn’t want him to see your tears of frustration.

“Why not?”

He respected your need for space, staying exactly where you left him, and you bit your tongue.

One of Jimin’s worst ideas was for you to wear heels to every class from the moment you agreed to the competition. He said it was necessary, otherwise you’d have different mindsets attached to different shoes, and you believed him, but damn. You struggled to get used to it; you felt the looming threat of falling more sharply than ever before, even months later. 

He caught you every time, of course, but you kept stepping on him like just now and it just unnerved you. You weren’t good enough to dance by his side, to be by his side, to—

A sob shook you silently, and you looked at the ceiling so you wouldn’t cry. “I’ll just embarrass you.”

His chuckle from behind you shook you more than his touch on your arm as he spun you around.

“You won’t. You’ll be perfect.” His smile was dazzling as his hands settled back on your waist, and heat emerged on your cheeks instantly. 

You couldn’t help it, no matter how many times he had pulled you close to him like that in the last couple of months. It was part of the routine, of course, but your silly, palpitating heart didn’t know better. 

He tapped your temple with a fingertip. “You’re so much better than you think you are.”

You stared at him with stars in your eyes and thought for the hundredth time how it was impossible not to have a crush on him. 

“Let’s go again, come on. Ready?” He smiled softly like he always did before resuming the lesson, and you nodded, also accepting it was all it would ever be. A silly crush on your dance instructor turned dance partner.

As you let him twirl you around as he pleased with every new step of the choreography you were training, trusting him wholeheartedly, you considered that he didn’t make it any easier for you. He didn’t have to tease you about the perks of wearing heels — you could finally reach his chin — or about how you spun so beautifully into his arms. He made a point of saying it, praising you every time you twirled and landed softly back into his arms, and you had to remind yourself constantly that he was just doing his job.

Jimin always held you and spun you like the world was that room, making you feel confident and beautiful, at least until your thoughts got in the way. 

You almost tripped with the last step, but he pulled on your hand harder, making sure you landed safely against his chest. He kept you in his arms, both of you winded as you recovered.

He pulled away and brushed your sweaty hair out of your face, trying to look at you, and whispered, “Are you okay?”

You closed your eyes and nodded, always appreciating that contact and closeness more than you probably should. You never said anything about it, even now that he took longer and longer to let you go.

“Let’s repeat that last set,” he finally said as he gently let go of you.

You agreed and glued your eyes to the floor, trying to purge your thoughts so you could focus properly.

He restarted the music a bit before the set he was talking about, then returned to you. “Ready?”

His attentive eyes always made sure you were, and you nodded and raised your hand. He took it, restarting the dance on the right beat after a short countdown.

You were focused, concentrated not only on your feet or the choreography, but also on your balance. Yet, that last move was tricky; you tripped.

He caught you at the last second, his firm grip the only thing between you and the wood floor. Then, he held you to him again, only this time, he fitted your legs around him like a koala bear in his arms.

“You okay?” he asked, brushing your hair away so he could look at you. 

You nodded, not once worried or hurt despite his strength, and rubbed your cheek against his, appreciating his closeness yet again. Suddenly, though, it was gone. A set of plump lips gently brushed your skin instead, tracing your flushed, sweaty cheek, covering you in goosebumps until his lips found yours.

You trembled in his arms, barely believing that feather-like touch was gracing your mouth, but it was as sure as his firm hold on you. It wasn’t an accident or a mishap because he kept going; he brushed your hair aside and kissed your lips softly as though he had wanted to do that for a long time.

You’d never forget the look in his eyes when you pulled away, needing to breathe but, most of all, to believe that it was really happening. His eyes had a fierceness to them, making you wonder about his thoughts: what did he make of this?

A surge of emotions whirled through you as he carried you across the room. He sat down and simply held you on his lap, and that class ended like that — with you both letting that closeness sink in.

7 months earlier

Jimin should never have kissed you, he knew that. Once he did, the truth was out, and it could never be ignored again — his feelings weren’t platonic.

For as long as he held you in that firm embrace afterward, his mind was ravished by thoughts of inevitability and fate. 

At first, he didn’t believe it. He didn’t even know it could happen. He had heard the stories about his kind finding their muses, those special humans one would find in a lifetime whose spirit spoke to a vampire uniquely, but he figured them to be rumors. Dreams ushered by the elders to keep the younglings from going too crazy, in case they happened to touch one such human and make their matching vampire mad.

But then he met you, and certain things just made sense to him. He could never get tired of your stumbles, your scent awoke his senses, and when you moved near him, he just answered in tandem. But what made him certain, despite his initial denial, was that when you smiled, he saw light. Not concrete light, but a glimmer that he had never seen before and that he couldn’t help longing to see again.

He was inspired; he convinced himself the days spent planning your classes and how he could make you shine even more and brighter were due to your improvement, not his need to think about you incessantly. The competition was an excuse to keep working together, and he had given it so much thought and planning, he had most of the choreography figured out before you even said yes.

But then he kissed you, even when he promised himself he didn’t need that, and that he’d stay away for your sake. Of course, beautiful stories about the eternal love between a muse and a vampire were still told, but so were the cautionary tales. Sometimes, things went wrong, be it because of jealousy, unbridled fascination, or tragedy. Undoubtedly, there was always hurt — for the human, whose life would never be the same again, and for the vampire, whose existence would forever spin around one single axis. Once, he thought that was ludicrous. Who’d want that? But now he had met you, and he didn’t want anyone else. The very thought seemed senseless.

But he vowed to stay away from you for your sake — if you never got involved, you’d never have to suffer through such things. You’d never fully step into his world, and you’d be able to live your human life to its full extent.

Kissing you was not on the agenda, and it threw him off. How the fuck was he supposed to let go of you now?

He tried, though. You kept coming to class and, while he was perhaps a bit more attentive than before, he kept the space between you. He focused hard on the choreography, wanting to make sure you’d shine as brightly as he knew you could. It did sadden him that you never mentioned the kiss, but he would never bring it up and make you uncomfortable — seeing you smile as you twirled around was all he needed.

He thought that was all you needed, too, but then you showed him it wasn’t so. In the third class after he had first tasted you, you twirled into his arms as part of the choreography, but then you grabbed his cheeks and crashed your mouths together.

Your kiss was hot and hungry as your hips swiveled together with his, and he lost his mind. He grabbed you closer and groaned into your mouth, desperately drinking every drop of your taste. Even with his eyes closed, he could see light in the darkness, no matter how faint, and the enticement was powerful. The more you kissed him, the more his heart gave in, quickly promising you everything you could ever desire, even if rationally he knew he shouldn’t.

I shouldn’t, I shouldn’t, I shouldn’t.

That day, as you smiled up at him, he convinced himself that a middle ground was possible  — he could just give.

The intimacy of what you were doing was undeniable, he could recognize that. Dancing like you two did, touching and breathing closely, brought you close. But as he took you on that learning journey with each new step in your routine, he figured he could give you whatever you’d ask and keep himself in check. That way, he’d keep you safe and free and content, and he wouldn’t break his promise.

He started with the Cha-cha-cha choreography as the first dance of the competition. The dance was playful and flirtatious, and you focused very hard on each distinct step so you could claim an unspoken reward — stolen kisses.

Then came the Rumba, with smooth, flowing movements that had your heart beating intensely inside your chest; he could hear it. Every time he pulled you closer and guided your hips close to his, he noticed your blood rushing to your cheeks and who knew where else, deepening your breath. Often, he glued his nose to your cheek or touched your foreheads together as he moved your waist in movements that made his imagination fly, despite his self-castigation. The kisses that followed became fiery hot in time, and although he felt the urge to dive deeper into you every time, he always held back. 

Surprisingly, Tango was the hardest for you. After seeing how you excelled at the others, he thought it would have been easier. Even though he insisted it was all about trust and letting go, the intricate footwork and required precision drove you insane. You had to worry about your feet all the time, and it just didn’t work. You confessed you were a bit overwhelmed, but he wouldn’t give it up. That just meant more training and more time to be close to you.

“Stop worrying,” he said, swinging your bodies around with your chests glued together. “You’ll always land on your feet, or I’ll catch you.”

You swallowed and nodded.

“Keep your back arched, and I’ll spin us.”

With your heart racing, you did before he pulled you firmly back into his arms.

“Raise your leg.” He raised your knee to his waist. “When I pull your hand up like this, it’s your cue to bend back. Our feet are locked, and I’ll grab this leg.” He tapped on your knee around him, “and arm as you reach back to the floor. I have you,” he promised, and you let go slowly.

You didn’t dare bend too far back, but he caught you just as if you had, swaying you for a second before giving you the cue to step away and mirror him.

“Good.” He smiled. “Now close.”

You knew you were supposed to raise your hand and bring it slowly behind his head, gluing your foreheads, and you did, but then you stopped. He did the same, with his eyes focused on yours, not half as winded as you. 

He kept you close and connected, eyes fixed on every line of your face. “That’s it, you’re perfect.”

You couldn’t blush any more than you already had, but you could try and pretend it was just the exertion.

“We’ll get there,” he assured you. “Soon, you’ll be ready for me to raise you high and spin you around.”

You raised your wide eyes. “I can’t do that!”

He smiled. “You can.”

“No!”

“How else am I supposed to show you off?” Your lips parted in shock as he brushed your flushed cheek with all the sweetness in the world. “This is all about you and letting you shine. No one will be able to take their eyes off of you.”

“But I’m not the experienced dancer here,” you whined, confused.

“No, but you are exquisite.” He pressed you harder against him; that close embrace wasn’t enough. “Irresistible, delectable even, and you’ll show it with every move of your hips,” his words were slow, pausing to guide you with a deliberate, deep hip swivel. “Every time your heel touches the floor.” He leaned you back ever the slightest, and the tap echoed loudly in your heart. “And every time you hold your breath, making them all wait…”

He smiled and you blinked, dazzled. Your body was moving, responding to his every push, pull, and subtle shift in weight and pressure. You could be coordinated and sharp if you didn’t think about it. Letting him direct you into raising your leg around him and falling backward, arching your back to the max with tension stretching you from head to toe.

He smiled, pulling you back, and you fell into his arms, his lips finding yours.

You kissed him as passionately, reveling in the way he had sought your kiss for the first time in a while. You didn’t doubt he liked it when you touched him, but you had felt discouraged about being the one always searching for him. After a while, it made you hesitate, wondering if you were stepping over the line and making him uncomfortable, and so that untamed kiss washed away your worries.

Not only that, but it gave you the green light to feel more. You didn’t just want his company, his attention and affection; you wanted to fulfill that tension, that unspoken promise. He wasn’t just showing you that you could dance. He showed you that you could do it — you could dance by his side and be, too.

Your mouths never parted, with tongues sharing desires and heavy breaths never quite deeply enough. You couldn’t care less about breathing, though; you were burning up, gripping his shirt over his shoulders as you ground your hips still pressed to his.

Your back hit the mirror, making you gasp in surprise, yet as he kissed down your jawline and neck, you smiled. It was as though he had finally stopped resisting and touched you like flames licking at your silhouette. One of your legs surrounded him, welcoming his excitement rubbing your core deliciously, and you moaned, ready to ignite.

Only he pulled away and tried to breathe despite your lips on his cheek lowering to his neck.

“I can't.”

He sounded tortured and your blood froze. Your head fell back to the mirror to face him, not hiding the fear taking hold of you at his words. Why couldn’t he—

“No, it’s not that,” he reassured you, whispering as he cupped your cheek. “I just—” He was breathless and lost, and looking into your sparkling eyes, he finally gave in, “Not here. Not like this. It— It wouldn't be right.”

“Come home with me, then.”

Your whisper had him looking into your eyes with a glint of anxiety. “If you’re sure.”

You smiled. “I am.”

*****

That night, you took Jimin home. He hesitated to pass the threshold of your apartment, and you just grabbed his hand and pulled him inside. That simple gesture was enough for him to settle his hands on your waist and his lips on yours.

You weren’t just kissing or stripping as your lips and tongue tasted, your skin rampant with goosebumps and your core wet with need. You were connected; every press of his fingers guided you, while every brush of his plump lips over your exposed skin conveyed secrets. Elation made your heart sing. Your senses were heightened; every whisper shook you, and every graze set you alight.

He let you touch him and explore however you liked, even when your fingers first traced down his neck and onto his shoulders, gripping his muscles through his shirt. His response was instant, pulling you closer, deepening your kiss, urging you with sweet whispers to keep going, and you didn’t hesitate. You pulled every article of clothing from his body greedily, entertaining his kisses while you waited. Anticipation made your heart thrum faster until the last barrier disappeared. 

The white tee shirt fell on your carpeted floor with a muffled sound, contrasting your silent focus. His body was firm, his skin flawless under your gentle touch. You don’t think you had ever felt the urge to touch and know someone like this before, and you blamed it on his perfect body. Why was his chest so smooth, with round dark nipples, while his stomach was delineated with taut muscles on a delicate frame? 

You shook your head and quickly dragged your fingers up his chest to his shoulders to pull him close, falling into a passionate kiss as you placed his hands on the hem of your shirt. He felt slightly cold to the touch, and you wanted to heat him up. Luckily, with the way he followed your kiss, you doubted it would take long. You guided him to your bedroom between kisses, leaving your clothes and inhibitions behind, and parted your lips from his only when you sat on the bed. 

You moved back on your elbows with your eyes on his, offering yourself clearly to him despite the way you were trembling. His eyes drank you up silently, tracing every line and curve of yours so intensely you could feel his scorching gaze. Your nipples perked as your chest heaved under his gaze, aching for him before his eyes trailed lower, below your navel. You weren’t shy about opening your legs more, letting him see how dripping wet you were for him, and that was when you noticed his fists beside his hips, and a raging boner matching the tension on his features.

You raised your hand, ready to coax him to come closer when he seemingly relaxed. He kneeled on the bed and traced down your legs as he settled between them.

“Jimin,” you pleaded, needing him closer.

Yet he simply nuzzled down your inner thigh. “Not yet, little light. This is all about you.”

You whimpered, needing his touch all over you, and as he pecked your delicate skin, you trembled from head to toe in anticipation.

“Slowly,” he whispered, and you squirmed a little. He looked up, only to find your hands taking your breasts in full, squeezing them, and his eyes darkened. “That’s it. Touch them, make yourself feel good.” He traced the back of your thighs with his fingers until he squeezed your ass, making your legs open limply. “So perfect,” he murmured, tracing kisses just a little closer to where you wanted him, but not yet. “I wish I could squeeze all of you at the same time,” he sighed, and looking up, hummed. “Do that again, little light.”

You squeezed your breasts again, and a sensual moan fell from your lips.

“That’s it, so good… pinch them. Come on.” He smiled, grazing his teeth on the junction between your thigh and sex. You trembled and did as he said, pressing your nipples between your fingers, only to hump your hips toward him. He laughed darkly against your skin, sprinkling your mound with kisses. “Good, so good… I want you as wet as can be. What do you think? Should I check?”

You whimpered incoherently as he dragged his lips to your lower ones and parted them with his tongue, letting your slick coat it. His short growl was enough to make you flush, but the way he gripped your ass to pin you down under him made you clench.

You felt his sigh deep inside your core as he lapped his tongue in circles, taking every single drop of sweetness.

“All for me, little light.”

You contained your moans, feeling your face and chest so hot, you thought your very sweat would evaporate. You only noticed the way you were curling into yourself, lost, when he grabbed your hand in his hair to loosen your grip.

“Let me take care of you,” he coaxed, kissing your fingertips before leaning to nuzzle your clit. “I’m not going anywhere.”

It made your heart skip, and you finally laid back down. He placed your hand back on his head with a mischievous smile before diving in again, and you bit your lip, knowing you were melting, just giving him more of what he wanted. You didn’t know why, but the way he reassured you made it so you could relax and forget yourself, focusing simply on the pleasure. His tongue was restless, but his nose on your clit was gentle, almost a tease, as though poking a reaction out of you. You weren’t shy about sighing, moaning, or grazing his scalp gently now, but when he gave your clit a few circular rubs, you started shaking and let out a deep moan.

He kept his touches so light, his kisses so feather-like that you couldn’t help but moan and combust with each new lap. His dark eyes stayed on yours while his pink tongue leaped over you with utmost gentleness and led you down a path where, in the end, you felt like a supernova — a star about to burst and be set free.

Your climax made you moan and shake; you would have forgotten who you were if not for that single point of contact. You searched for him, and he grabbed your hands, instantly giving you the direction you needed. But while he coaxed you gently down to earth, you became anxious.

“I want you,” you breathed, looking down at him, still kissing your inner thighs as if he didn’t intend on leaving that spot.

“You have me, little light.”

“I need you,” you insisted.

“I know, and I'll give you everything you want.”

His tone was losing its lightness, but you were not sated. “Then give me… you,” you sobbed when his lips skimmed your folds, shaking you with a shiver. “Jimin, please.”

He squeezed your hands before latching his lips more firmly to your core, grunting and fluttering his eyes closed, but it wasn’t enough for you. You whimpered his name, pulling his hands to you, and he chuckled, “I’m trying, but—”

“No, you. I need to feel you inside me,” you pleaded, trying your best to describe the urge unsettling you from the inside out. “I'm so empty, I need you, please!”

You only noticed you had managed to pull him over you like a heated blanket when his face was hovering above yours. He cupped your cheeks with a line of worry between his eyebrows. “This is about you.”

“This is about us,” you instantly corrected, also cradling his lovely cheeks. “Please.”

His eyes peered at your features, and his hesitation hurt you. It hurt him, too. You closed your eyes and leaned into his touch, and he wished he could be truthful with you. You were everything he had ever wanted or ever would; his reluctance to continue was not out of uncertainty of his feelings or lack of desire for you. It was because he didn’t know if he’d be able to control himself with you. He knew what drinking someone drunk on lust tasted like, but they weren’t you. He couldn’t help his curiosity, but he could never endanger you like that. Not without you knowing the risks. On top of it, what if he marked you? Claimed you? He could feel his selfish, untamable urge to do so, to link you to him forever.

But how could he do that without telling you about him? Without changing your life forever? Without revealing that he had been lying to you? That the person you were lying with, who he was, was not what you thought?

“Jimin,” your quiet voice brought him back, and his heart made the decision. He just wanted to erase that deep sadness from your features and show you that with him, you’d never find anything but love.

He kissed you, vowing to himself for the hundredth time that he’d give you everything he could, and never hold you back or hurt you. To seal those promises, he dragged his lips and tongue down your jaw and neck. A whiff of your scent there as your jugular thrummed against his lips made him groan, but he trailed lower to your sternum, promising right to your heart.

You squeezed your breasts around his face and he smiled, obliging your desires. He grabbed them over your hands and nipped at a nipple, appreciating how you writhed under him. Your legs squeezed around his waist, humping your hips as though you could align yourself with him, and it was sweet. It was wild, untempered, and the thought that perhaps you felt as strongly about him as he did about you almost made him adjust so he could join your bodies as one.

But he groaned into your chest as he teased you and reminded himself that this was about you. So he pulled away and lay next to you.

A wave of cold invaded you, making you look at him with worry again. Did he really not want to—

“Get on top of me, little light,” he instructed, extending his hand to you. You eyed it, and he gave you a dazzling smile. “Come on, I want to see you.”

You pressed your lips and took his hand, letting him guide you as he had countless times before. You straddled him just like he asked you, and when his eyes moved down your body, you stayed put. A part of you feared you weren’t to his liking, but the way he drank your every detail, tracing his palms up and down your curves, soothed you quickly. Instead, you let the way he touched you relax you into lowering yourself down his chest.

He kissed you instantly, wanting you to get lost in him. You were easily overwhelmed, shuddering with his curious fingertips tracing your every line. Meanwhile, his lips pecked your cheek and jawline whenever you dared breathe, only to steal your breath away seconds later by kissing you again. This intimate rhythm distracted you enough to let him gently push and pull your waist over him. You found yourself moving in a steady sway, noticing only how it was making you burn and lose yourself when a moan pushed out of your lips.

You broke away from the kiss, noticing under your lowered eyelids how his lips chased yours.

“Good?” he asked, lips peppering every inch of skin they could find as he covered you with hot breaths. “Do you like it, little light?”

You would have smacked his shoulder out of embarrassment, but his hands pressed your hips down the slightest, and your clit on his hard shaft made you moan breathlessly. Your cheeks flushed as you hid in his neck, unable to stop your hips.

He suckled your exposed neck, feeling you exude heat as pleasure overtook your senses. “You’re doing so well,” he cooed, gently brushing your hair away. “You sound about to cum again—”

You froze and pushed away to face him. Despite the heat clouding your judgment, you realized what you were doing — just humping him, using him for your pleasure selfishly. When, in fact, you wanted so much more at that moment.

“Why did you stop?”

He caressed your cheek, and you whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” His tone was ever so gentle, even as his brow furrowed. 

You nodded, “I got carried away.”

He smiled, “That’s good.”

You shook your head shyly. “No. I want to feel you, please,” you whispered to his lips, reminding him of what you had requested earlier. 

He sighed and pecked your lips once, cupping your cheeks. “You can do whatever you want, little light. I want to feel you, too.”

You pressed a kiss to his lips before rising to your knees and looking down. You could barely process the perfect body underneath you or the starry eyes looking up at you. Jimin was so perfect, with his smooth muscles matching astonishing features, not to mention his perfect hard cock glistening under you. You rolled your hips, grinding your slit on him just a bit more, and the friction drew a moan out of you as you sank your teeth into your bottom lip.

You grabbed his dick and gave him a few flicks of your wrist, but he was already as hard as can be. He was also the image of pure sin, gripping the sheets as he fought to keep his eyes from rolling back.

“Do you like it? This is what you do to me,” he managed to say with a low groan, and you bit your lip.

“Me?”

“You.” 

His eyes opened to set on yours, and you could instinctively read the hunger behind them. It could have intimidated you, but instead, you brought his cock closer to your entrance as though you finally understood each other. You couldn’t phrase it, but that desire you saw in his eyes was a reflection of your own. You wanted to feel him deep inside you, parting you open to fit with you in ways no one else could, and he wanted the same. You could feel it and know it as you sank on him.

He groaned and pushed himself further inside you, letting your tight walls squeeze a dream-like haze over him. You both moaned with the connection, and he had to hold back from biting you and drawing blood as he hid in the crook of your neck. Not even because he wanted your blood, but just because he couldn’t control the way he needed to become a part of you.

You moved your hips, and he groaned again, needing to still you seconds later. That unique, euphoric sensation lacing every wave of pleasure brought tears to his eyes, even more so when you pecked his forehead. Every time you moved, he saw sparks of white. It was beautiful and heavenly, and he knew he’d want it for the rest of his days.

You restarted your hips, moving in a way that his cock bottomed out, and he tensed again, unable to stop you and overwhelmed by everything you gave him. 

He could only breathe when you stopped again, moaning for him with your lip tucked between your teeth as you swiveled your hips to grind your clit on him. “I won’t last.”

He kissed your shoulder with closed eyes and knew you felt his hard dick throb inside you. No matter what, he’d let you have your way. He just couldn’t say no to you.

Your moans echoed across the room as you rolled your hips harder, making good use of his slicked length inside you, but it was only when he joined in, fucking you hard and fast, that you lost sight of yourself. You closed your eyes and let him take you, your desperate moans the only hint he could have to how close you were.

Until you sobbed his name, crashing down around him in waves of frenzied bliss. He fucked you slower, cupping your cheeks to keep you looking at him the whole time, and you almost cursed him. You had never felt so connected and complete, all while you trembled and cried your pleasure, staring directly into his gorgeous dark eyes.

His strangled name out of your lips as you peaked made everything come cascading down for Jimin. That single moment rewrote him and changed him, because as you came, and your body and blood sang to him, he swore he saw light. It made him cling to you, the only ray of light in his darkness, and the pleasure that washed over him as he joined you washed him clean. He wasn’t just Jimin, and he wasn’t just a vampire, he was yours. Undoubtedly, for the rest of his days, regardless if he ever claimed you.

You let your forehead fall to his as your hushed breaths filled the room, and he hugged you closer.

“I was made for you,” he whispered, then pressed his lips to yours before he’d confess more of the turmoil inside him.

“So was I.”

6 months earlier

“You always let me eat the whole popcorn tub,” you giggled as you dragged him outside the cinema and into the night as your dress twirled around you. The temperatures were rising, and Jimin liked seeing you in dresses.

“I know you like sweet things.” He shrugged as he followed you, ignoring the few people leaving the late-night session alongside the two of you.

“Still, not even one? You make me feel bad for letting you pay half.”

You were grinning, so he didn’t take it too seriously. At first, comments like those made him freeze and think of excuses, but a month was enough to know that you didn’t really care.

“Buy my ticket next time,” he suggested, pulling you closer to cross the park hand in hand. He knew you thought it was for safety, but it was just for the pleasure of it. No one would dare come close to you two, and if someone tried, he’d avoid it before you even realized the situation.

You walked side by side and raised your eyebrows, “Are you saying you want to do this again?”

He squeezed your hand, “You know I do.”

You chuckled and stayed quiet, turning your head up to observe the breeze move the tree canopies above your heads as you walked the city park. Lately, you had been there so many times that he knew the way back to your place like the back of his hand. He couldn’t help his smile as you observed the night sky with a light purse of your lips. 

“How about we go see the stars next time?” you asked, turning to him.

“So you don’t buy me a ticket?”

“What?” You chuckled and shook your head once you realized his tease. “Of course, I’ll get you a ticket. But on another day, we could go see the stars. We can’t really see them from here.”

You stopped to look at the sky, and he mimicked you, though your wonder was far more interesting.

“There’s this place outside the city…” he suggested. “It’s a bit of a drive, but it will be beautiful on a summer night.”

Your lips curved playfully. “Sounds like a good idea. Should we make it a weekend?”

He pursed his lips. “No, I can… drive us back.”

You nodded and looked down, taking one step to resume your walk, when he pulled you back to him.

“I’m not saying no to a weekend away with you,” he clarified, looking intently into your eyes. “We can plan something better than just star gazing.”

You hummed in thought, though you didn’t move away, letting your hands rest on his chest. “I’m sure it would involve cuddles at some point.”

“Cuddles?” It was his turn to hum, exaggerating as he swayed you in his embrace. “You’re right; that does make it much better.” You smiled cheekily, and he pinched your pink cheek. “We’ll plan something.”

You smiled, getting on your toes to kiss him when your phone rang. You pulled it out of your handbag and picked up the call in one swift movement that made Jimin sigh.

“Don’t tell me you’re still out?” you asked Jiyu in disbelief, knowing it was about three-thirty in the morning.

He raised an eyebrow, though he tried not to give away how much he could hear of the conversation.

“Yeah, we’re still out! And you are too, so get your ass here!”

“We’re just out of the cinema,” you started, glancing at him.

“So you’re already out of the house! And bring Jimin. It’s high time he hears some truths!”

“Are you drunk?” you asked gently, and the roll of high-pitched grumbles that followed confirmed it.

“You just never go out anymore! It’s all his fault! I never see you anymore, and it’s not because I moved out! Would I even see you if we still lived together?! You’re just out on dates every night or whatever!”

“We also watch movies at home and snuggle—”

“I don’t care!” There was a sniffle. “I don't know if I like him! I trust Hoseok, but ever since you started dating, I just don't see you! You're busy every night!”

“We are…” you started, looking at him before glancing away, “getting to know each other.”

Her voice sounded strangled, “Just get your ass here, or I’ll never forgive you!”

Jimin could hear the others’ awwws and don’t be like that, and knew Jiyu was crying. You looked at Jimin again and bit your lip; so you knew it, too. “Where are you? Okay, I know where it is.” You turned, looking around to situate yourself. “I’m fifteen minutes out. See you soon.”

Jimin had a light frown on his face as you put your phone away.

“Jiyu is at Club Gabbia,” you told him with a bit of a shy smile. “I haven’t seen her in a while, or the others, so I’ll join them before I go home.”

He pursed his lips, wondering why you weren’t inviting him to come along when it was clear Jiyu needed reassurance. “It’s not safe for you to go alone…”

You smiled while you shook your head. “Jiyu is with the girls, and they’ve had a bit to drink… I’m sure you’d be annoyed.”

“Not as long as I’m with you.” The words flew out before he could stop them, and he raked his fingers through his hair. “I just wouldn’t be at ease knowing you were by yourself.”

You nodded slowly. “I should tell you that… if they see you, they won't let you get away. Only Jiyu knows you, and they’re… curious,” you settled on a word, and he nodded. “And they’re also drunk, so they might be a bit too much.”

“Are you trying to convince me not to meet them?”

His tone had amusement, and you sighed. “Just telling you what to expect…”

He grabbed your hand and turned down another path, “Club Gabbia… I think I remember where that is.”

He led you calmly down the stone path, asking you things about your friends so you’d relax. He preferred to hear you talk than to worry about his problems — like the fact that Jiyu already noticed how close you were to Jimin. Only one month had passed, and you spent every night together, either out on a date or home snuggling — getting to know each other, as you said. 

Some would say that meeting your friends would complicate everything, but he couldn’t let you go alone or create even more friction with Jiyu. After all, you would always gravitate towards him; that was inevitable, but you were not bonded. He had made sure to keep that side of him in check precisely so you wouldn’t change or sacrifice your life to be with him. So you could walk away one day. Perhaps pretending to be a normal guy would help you with this.

You reached the club and entered quickly, and Jimin’s hand tightened around yours as you guided him upstairs. The whole structure was black metal, an industrial concept that made it seem like the building was still under construction. He tried focusing on the floor, but the flashing lights almost made his sensitive eyes cry. On top of this, the open concept meant that the booming noise from the dance floor echoed up, making him grit his teeth. Clubs were too much for creatures like him.

“I don’t believe it!”

A couple of shrieks and shouts ahead told him which table had your friends before you headed that way. Jiyu was sitting in the middle and didn’t get up like the others to greet you two. Instead, her eyes lingered on him while you greeted everyone and told them about being nearby.

“So you never go out clubbing?” Jiyu asked, raising her voice so he’d know she was talking to him.

“Not my thing,” he replied with a tense smile. “I prefer the bars downtown,” he added with a shout, making a point. “Easier to have a conversation.”

Jiyu pursed her lips, and you raised your hand to her, inviting her to get up and hug you, which she did. She was pouting, drunk, and Jimin only smiled to himself—he understood the feeling; he would also get jealous if he were in her shoes.

“Aren’t you going to introduce us?” A friend of yours smiled boldly, and you let go of Jiyu, who you were talking to by speaking in each other’s ears as you hugged.

“Girls, this is Jimin.”

They started giggling and teasing, and he found them amusing. You looked flustered as they asked if he was your boyfriend, and your reply was bashful. “We’re getting to know each other.”

He didn’t correct you, and a playful smile rested on his lips when he pulled you to sit next to him. He didn’t think you were downplaying what you two were doing; you were likely just afraid of saying something that he wouldn’t agree with. It was funny to him because you were so beyond “girlfriend” or any other human designation, and you didn’t even know it. Little did he know, however, that his smile was interpreted the wrong way.

Your friends were keen on getting to know him, asking him a myriad of unexpected questions. Fortunately, his handling of humans as a dance instructor meant he had a well-rehearsed story and was totally unfazed. Jiyu had the hardest questions, interrupting only when there was an opportunity to dig a little deeper. How many siblings did he have? Were his grandparents still alive? Did he own his apartment?

He didn’t take it personally and answered everything according to the fictional story Hoseok had drafted for him back when he started at the gym. It wasn’t enough, he thought. Jiyu kept analyzing him, scrutinizing his worth. Even you realized this, grabbing her hand and leaning into her ear to tell her to take it easy.

It didn’t help that he refused drinks vehemently and couldn’t hide how uncomfortable he was. Jiyu perceived it as disliking her questions, but it was really the nauseating flashing lights.

Your friends got on the bandwagon and joined the questioning, though their questions were more playful. Had he ever dated seriously, or did he prefer dating around? When was his last long-term relationship? Was he available to teach them to dance, too?

He wasn’t ready for those, and it didn’t feel right to answer them when you had never touched such topics just the two of you. Fortunately, that was the moment you decided to leave.

“It’s almost five, and I’d like not to be a zombie tomorrow.”

Jiyu agreed, and so did Jimin. “I’ll take you home.”

He was eager to leave before the sun showed and made it uncomfortable for him. Not that he’d instantly combust, but he hated the sun-induced rash even after just a few minutes of exposure.

Your other friends tried their best, but you were out quickly, taking Jiyu to a taxi where she eyed Jimin one last time with a small head bow.

“I don’t think she likes me,” Jimin told you when the taxi moved away.

“She’s just looking out for me,” you replied, letting him guide you by the hand out of the crowd. When you got to a side street, it was easier to walk side by side and talk. “I’m sorry about the others, though.”

“Hmm? Why?”

“They were… kind of intrusive, no? And that last question…”

His thumb brushed circles on your hand as he tried recalling. “About being available for more classes?”

You huffed and looked away. “Said like that, it sounds innocent, but… it was not an innocent question, and I…”

He looked at you, and you instantly stiffened.

“I mean, of course, you’re free to give anyone classes. I just…”

He stopped and pulled you close to make sure you looked at him. “It bothers you?”

You took a deep breath and nodded. “Their insinuation? Yes.”

“I see,” he hummed as he grabbed your other hand. “I’m not teaching anyone else one-on-one, but even if I were, this,” he squeezed your hands, “wouldn’t happen. We might have met through dancing, but we’re much more than that. You’re special to me.”

You blushed, looking up at him with stars in your eyes, and he chuckled when you got on your tiptoes to kiss him.

5 months earlier

“Well done, everyone.” Jimin smiled as he stopped the music and clapped along with everyone in the class. “Have a safe trip back home!”

The sweaty attendees of his class bowed and expressed their appreciation before starting to disperse, and Jimin turned his back to grab his things.

“We’re going out for a drink, Jimin-ssi.”

He turned to face one of the usuals smiling at him with a flushed, cheeky smile. He couldn’t recall her name.

She pointed behind her at a group of seven or so people from that same class. “Want to join us?”

He nodded at them in acknowledgment but instantly shook his head. “No, I got somewhere to be.”

“Come on, Eun-Yeong,” one of them called. “Can’t you see Jimin-ssi is going home to his girlfriend?”

Her scowl was instant as she turned to glare at the guy, and Jimin chuckled, “Well…”

“Oh,” Eun-Yeong suddenly said as realization spread over her features. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that you— I’m sorry.” She bowed deeply, and Jimin grabbed his things.

“No worries. You enjoy yourselves and get home safely.” He gave them all light head bows before heading straight to the exit into the warm night. 

The days were longer now, which meant not as much time to be with you. While he was inside the gym, it was fine, but he couldn’t stay so long in the morning, which annoyed him greatly.

He walked to your place on autopilot, wondering about what his students had said. Girlfriend. Would you have said yes if you were asked? He hoped so, considering. Though he knew there was a chance you wouldn’t, and he’d understand.

It was his fault. He knew that for humans, dating and seeing each other every day meant being serious, and he was serious about you — he just didn’t want you to know.

Yes, he was yours, body and soul, but no, he had never told you that. He never revealed much about himself other than the made-up human story, and so it felt wrong to even touch on establishing a relationship. Because it would have been based on lies, and he didn’t want that, even though it had to stay that way.

With time, he became certain that he wouldn’t hurt you, even when lust-crazed. He would know, you spared no efforts trying to get him there. Whether you edged him for hours or begged him to fuck you while you two were dancing, you had understood two things about him: he’d never say no to you, and you were safe in his embrace.

This made it even more cruel that he never expressed how he felt about you, nor did he let you do it. You would look into his eyes with such endearment, and he’d kiss you to shut you both up, or you would cry his name as you came and while he chanted his love for you a thousand times in his head, he prayed that you wouldn’t say it. Even though he knew you felt it, and even though you never defined what you two were.

You had never expressed that being an issue for you, and he didn’t need to define it because he knew what you were to him. If anything, he knew you loved him because your blood told him so.

Not that he had ever tasted you like that, of course. He had grown confident that he could control that aspect of his nature and keep you safe and blissfully ignorant. Your blood still sang to him, though, but that was not an issue. It called to him, but it wasn’t what shot him up to the sky, letting him float among the stars under the glow of the moon. That elation that accompanied touching you, making his heart sing, had nothing to do with the prospect of sinking his teeth into you. It was just quite simply the way you were together; it was just you. He couldn’t get enough of your taste, be it your fruity slick, your flowery-scented skin, or your ambrosia-like kisses. He was so in love with you, that spending his nights by your side was all that mattered, blissfully ignoring the elephant in the room. 

At least until that conversation reminded him of all this, only for your sweet smile to make him forget all about it as soon as you opened the door for him.

“There you are,” you quipped, throwing your arms around his shoulders.

He held you and gave you a quick peck before coming inside.

“I always ask, but,” you started, already in the kitchen while he took off his shoes. “You’ve eaten?”

“As always, I have.”

You shrugged and grabbed a Twinkie. “I blame your schedule for my midnight snacks.”

He agreed and joined you on the couch. “I’ll take responsibility and make you burn the calories.”

He winked, and you chuckled with your mouth full; it was adorable. You hugged a pillow and put your feet on his lap, and he took them to press the balls of your feet. It was almost routine by now — you trained in high heels, and he massaged your feet.

“How was your day?”

You swallowed hurriedly to answer him, “I met Jiyu to hash out the last details of our summer trip.” You reached for the cup of iced tea you had left on the coffee table to push the cake down, waving your hand as though much had been said, but you weren’t going into details. “She insisted again that it wasn’t normal for you to not come along, and she went on this super paranoid tangent,” you laughed, putting the cup down. “She says that you act like a married man, always leaving, not introducing me to your family, never joining us on our trips, and I just had to laugh because she’s so dramatic.”

You were laughing with it but he couldn’t match you. He only pursed his lips for a moment, “It’s silly.”

“Right? I mean, we’re too young to get married, and we’ve only been together for like five months, and…” You paused, seeing that a light demeanor similar to yours could not be found on the other side of the couch. Jimin looked rigid, staring at your feet without ever stopping his digits digging into the sole of your foot. “Just because she is marrying her high school sweetheart, it doesn’t mean others have to do the same as her.”

You pulled your foot from his touch and he gritted his teeth, but kept his eyes low.

“Then she was going on about how it could be fun to go on double dates and so on, but don’t worry, I shot her down. You don’t have time for that type of thing.”

“I work at night.”

“She suggested during the day, but I told her you were a night owl type of guy.”

You got up from the couch, taking the cup with you to pour the tea down the drain and rinse it, and he stayed behind. He couldn’t think of anything to say; he didn’t want to admit he’d been lying, but he didn’t want you to think he didn’t care. He cared, so he couldn’t make it serious. He couldn’t go on trips with your friends or meet your family, and certainly not introduce you to his. This way, he could make sure that one day you could walk away and live the rest of your life in peace.

Which was ironic considering the way his heart was tightening painfully from just feeling the slightest disconnection between you. He didn’t want you to misinterpret him or distance yourself, so how would he ever let you go?

The cup clinked as you put it down, drying your hands with a towel. “So, as you know, I’ll leave tomorrow.”

He got up to join you, suddenly restless. The detachment in your voice was like a jab to his heart, and when your eyes raised to his, he felt it more sharply.

He grabbed your hands, and you looked down. “Will you come water the plants? The week I’m gone?”

“I’ll come every day,” he said quietly, hurting with the way your eyes stayed hidden. “I’m not married, and I don’t have anyone else, I’m just—”

He hesitated, and you offered, “A night owl?”

He nodded, looking away and pressing his lips. He gripped your hands, struggling with what to say and what path to take when you smiled.

“You’re not ready, it’s fine. I get it.” Your tone was soft, but he could see through you in the rigid lines of your face. “I have friends that dated for years and never introduced their partners to anyone, it’s fine. I mean, they’re not together anymore, but—”

His lips crashed to yours, his hand darting to hold your head in place when he suddenly backed off with wide eyes and blown pupils.

“What?” you asked, gripping his arms unceremoniously. You wanted him to kiss you, you didn’t know why he stopped. Thinking about all this made you insecure, so you needed to feel him close.

He licked his lips and looked at your mouth, and for a second, you thought he’d ravish you.

But then he raised your chin. “You picked skin on your lip?”

You pressed your lips. “I… do that sometimes—”

“You can’t. You can never hurt yourself like that again. Okay?” His tone was firm and commanding, and you blinked up, slightly befuddled by his strong reaction. He caressed your cheek. “What if it scars? Or hurts? How would I kiss you?”

“You’d have to wait,” you mumbled, seeing the worry in his watery eyes.

“I can’t, I need you.” His quiet confession made your stomach fuzzy as he kissed your lips again, groaning into your mouth.

In seconds, you were lost in the kiss and sitting on the counter with your legs around him. He kept tracing his hands over you firmly, possessively, and you matched his fervor. You could swear he felt insecure as well, and you didn’t want him to. You loved him, wanted him and a future with him, dreaded the upcoming week without him, and didn’t want him to feel uncertain about you.

But you realized that he wasn’t ready to talk about feelings or relationships, and while a year ago you would have shot down the notion of being with someone without knowing where you stood, with him, you just… Let it go. 

Because everything felt so right as he picked you up and carried you to bed. He undressed you and revered every inch of you revealed to him, and as always, you felt special, seen, and important. All you needed was for him to look at you like that, with such longing, and touch you with such care, almost like he was thankful you existed. It was selfish, perhaps, but you had never felt that way before, and it wasn’t just him. You knew you reflected that same myriad of feelings in your eyes, in your touch. It didn’t matter if you were yet to meet his parents or become officially his girlfriend or if he was too busy to go on trips with Jiyu. This was your decision, and you would pick him, always.

You welcomed his kiss, and although normally, Jimin would take his time preparing you and worshiping you, he couldn’t wait this time. He aligned himself with your entrance and pushed in, settling as deeply as you would take him. It forced a groan out of him and a moan out of you, but when he looked at you, he knew you were fine; better than. You crossed your legs behind him, and he knew that expression of yours; you wanted to feel him, and he wanted nothing else.

Your heart and blood were calling to him louder than ever before, and he knew his was answering the same way, even if you couldn’t hear it. He could only show you, which was why he was fucking you hard, grabbing the back of your neck to him so you’d let him nuzzle your jugular as he thrust into you frantically. The slap of skin wasn’t enough, not even your moans were, so he suckled your skin, just to feel your heartbeat in his mouth. It was the closest he’d ever be to tasting and hearing your love, and it drove him wild. He needed you. Needed you in his life, in his mouth, in his body, and in his own blood. Needed to be a part of you, your life, and your body. He needed to mark you just as much as he needed to love you, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t tell you, even if he heard your love in your sweet heartbeat and smelled it in your blood. He couldn’t tell you, especially because he could. Because you already loved him, but you didn’t even know the truth.

Your voice vibrated on his lips as you moaned, tightening your warm, velvety walls around him as you sank your nails into his shoulders, and he closed his eyes. He knew you were about to find rapture, so when you jumped, he tumbled right after you, mixing his moans with yours as he came, trembling, same as you.

Your heart was racing as you kissed his head, caressing his hair gently, and he stayed put, just listening. He didn’t know how to keep you by his side, but he just couldn’t lose you. 

1 month earlier

You were happy that night when Jimin entered your bed, slipping in behind you, hugging you awake.

You had met for training earlier in the night, and you had teased him relentlessly. With only one month away from the competition, you deserved compensation for your improvements, and you didn’t care about trophies. 

He jokingly pointed out that he still caught you when you tripped, and you chuckled, “Maybe I do it on purpose so you’ll catch me.”

He hummed as though he wasn’t convinced, and you bit your lip.

“So come over and give me everything I deserve?”

He sighed at your pout, and you smiled victoriously when he said, “Maybe.”

You knew he was busy helping Hoseok with the competition, since it was happening at the gym. They’d pull all-nighters to get everything ready, and that meant you had less time with Jimin. You missed your movie nights and star gazing. You missed him, it was hard for you.

Jiyu had noticed his absence and your sadness, but even she had to admit it was likely tough for Jimin. “Plus, he’s participating, can you imagine? Must be super stressful.”

You sighed and snuggled closer to him; what mattered was that at least tonight he’d sleep at home. Or rather, with you. You finally felt at home.

Despite settling quietly behind you, Jimin was hard, and you weren’t shy about rubbing your ass against his crotch to make double sure. He groaned quietly with his hand on your waist, and you wasted no time, pulling your pajama pants and underwear down your legs. 

He groaned into your hair when he felt your soft, warm skin, and you pleaded, “Please.”

You knew you had him when his hand traced your curves under your shirt to squeeze your breast and tease your nipple.

“My little light,” he sighed, making you squirm. “I missed you.”

You were easily set ablaze, dragging his hand lower to settle between your legs. “I missed you, too. Please.”

His fingers were quick to catch your wetness and spread it to your clit, and you closed your eyes as you gripped the sheets. No matter how much you enjoyed it when he gave to you, focusing on your pleasure before his own, that was not what you needed tonight.

“Jimin,” you called, writhing more into his chest. “Fuck me. Please.”

He must have expected and welcomed your request because he didn’t waste a second. His lips pressed to your neck as he opened his pants only to enter you, groaning softly in your ear in tune with you. He knew the way inside you now like the back of his hand, just as he knew how to give you exactly what you wanted.

You needed to feel him hard and deep. You needed him to cover you with love bites just so you had something other than the soreness between your thighs to remember him by once he left at dawn.

You moaned when he gripped your hip harder, melting and tightening around his cock. You loved it when he fucked you like this, a steady rhythm meant to make you feel good and drive you both insane as the two of you teetered on the edge of your volatile emotions for as long as possible. Only tonight you knew that wouldn’t work for either of you; you were bound to pop quickly out of sheer longing. Distance makes the heart go fonder and all that, which right now meant that you were craving to cream his cock and hear him groan his pleasure in the form of your name as he nestled inside you, filling you with his cum. You wanted it enough that the slightest touch turned you on — and he was slamming into you full force.

You moaned his name and worked against his ruts to feel him as deeply as possible. “Fuck, don’t stop,” you pleaded, feeling a gut-ripping fire start to flare in your lower stomach. It was going to blow and take everything with it, and you wanted nothing else. “Harder, please!”

You loved when he bit down your neck as he fucked you so hard you saw stars; it was perfect. He was still the Jimin you knew, the one you wanted, yours—

“Fuck, I’m—” Your words vanished as you moaned, your mind slipping past you with your orgasm as you kept mumbling, “I love you—I love—”

You groaned harder when a prick on your neck made you squirm a little, but instantly the bee sting-like sensation vanished as your orgasm took a new breath. Something exciting and exhilarating was making you soar high. It was as though you were floating as your heart pumped pure bliss, nearly exploding with happiness. Your only thought beyond the white waves of pleasure was that Jimin was right there with you, joining you, taking this leap together. You could feel him coming deep inside you as his arms kept you tethered to him, and you needed nothing else.

Coming down, you were like a feather waiting for the breeze to gently put you down. Of course, Jimin couldn’t wait to kiss you, so he turned your head up to connect your mouths. A ferric taste invaded your tastebuds, but you thought nothing of it. Not until he pulled away with wide, spooked eyes and you frowned. What was that on his mouth?

You whimpered when the stung-like sensation returned to your neck, and you touched it. It was wet, and you knew that smell.

You got up from bed. “Ah shit, it’s going to stain the pillows—”

Suddenly, the world was spinning, and your head was too light. You frowned as you stumbled, but a firm hand grabbed your arm to keep you steady.

You smiled, about to thank Jimin for catching you, as always, when your eyes fell on the mirror and found a gruesome image: your white pajama top was crimson because you had two small holes in your skin, pouring blood down your neck. Behind you, Jimin was hugging you to him, and his mouth and chin had traces of crimson.

“What the fuck?” You moved away from him to see better in the mirror under the moonlight, but he didn’t let you go.

“Wait.”

You tsked, “You bit too hard!”

You faced him in the mirror, a bit angry, and he couldn’t meet your eyes. “Let me close it.”

You blinked, stupefied by his answer. “What?”

“Here, just let me—” He leaned down into your neck and swiped his tongue across both holes, and you shuddered from head to toe. “There,” he said quietly, and you pressed your hand to your neck in bewilderment.

He stepped away, and you looked in a mirror; you still had blood stains all over your skin and clothes, but you weren’t bleeding out anymore. Because he licked you. 

What?

You spun on yourself, frowning with a surge of questions rattling in your brain, only for them to abruptly stop. Jimin was gripping his hair a few meters away from you, and he looked absolutely panicked.

“What just happened?” you asked, as though you needed him to confirm it, else you would start thinking you were imagining things.

“I bit you,” he mumbled, glancing at you before looking away. His eyes glistened with such emotion, your heart tightened in response.

Still, you shook your head. “Yeah, but why go so far?” You looked at your white pajamas as though you needed to confirm the evidence was still there.

“Because I fucked up!”

He was clearly anxious, and you blinked a few times, bafflingly waiting for more information. He didn’t open his mouth, so you insisted, “Well, okay, but why? I mean, clearly biting me like this without asking me first—”

“Asking?!” He turned to you with wide, glossed eyes, and you frowned again. Why was he looking at you as though you had lost your mind? “What the hell are you saying?!”

“Well, obviously! I’m okay with you having a bite or blood kink or something, but you have to talk to me first so that we can—”

“Stop! Okay, stop, just—”

He covered his face with his hands as though he needed a moment, and the silence in the room almost made him believe time had stopped. If it weren’t for your heartbeat.

He fucked up. He tried so hard to pretend you could be together, to convince himself that he wouldn’t hurt you, that you were safe, that—

He sighed. He tried so hard to convince himself that he wouldn’t have to tell you.

He opened his eyes. “It’s not a kink. I’m not human.”

You raised your eyebrows. “What does that mean?”

You were confused, but at least you gave him the benefit of the doubt instead of laughing. Maybe now you could sense the danger you were in.

“I’m a vampire.”

Your eyebrows skyrocketed as you eyed him from head to toe, and then frowned. “What?”

“I’m a—”

“No, no.” You waved your hand as you squinted your eyes. “You’re— You’re a specimen of a fictional species?”

“Now you know we’re not just fictional,” he replied darkly.

His lips pulled back, his tongue licked over his teeth, and then you saw them — his teeth were different. It was as though they elongated seamlessly before your eyes. They were still crimson with traces of your blood.

“You need blood.” You shook your head. “I mean, you— You feed on people?”

“No,” his answer was sharp and firm. “Of course, there are instincts and appropriate places if— No, I don’t. I haven’t in years.”

You stayed quiet, eying him as though you could catch him lying. “You did bite me.”

“It’s not the same.”

“How?”

He heaved a deep breath. “You’re— You’re not just someone I want to—” Your eyebrow twitched, daring him to speak openly, and he did. “You’re not someone I just want to play with for the thrill. You’re not someone I want to risk killing because I lost control. You’re not someone I want to endanger or bring into this world to just get torn apart by—”

His features twisted into a grimace as he stopped himself, and you observed as the conflict continued, hurting him inside and out. You didn’t know what he was talking about, you couldn’t follow his train of thought.

“Is that why you never told me? Or maybe it's the opposite.” You looked down, remembering a talk you once had with Jiyu. “I’m nothing serious to you, so why bother telling me. Right?”

He was already shaking his head before you were done. “No, not right. If you were nothing serious, I wouldn’t have bothered even looking at you twice.”

“But you never told me.” You shrugged.

“For your safety.”

“Knowing would put me in danger?” You arched a skeptical eyebrow. “How would anyone know I know?”

He chewed on his lip. “That’s not the only problem.”

“Then what is?”

You crossed your arms over your chest and, as the seconds ticked by in silence, felt his cum starting to drip down from inside you.

You huffed and searched for your underwear and pajama bottoms in between the sheets. His eyes stayed on you as you put your clothes back on. He also tucked his dick away and composed his clothes, but he didn’t answer your question.

By the time you were left standing, looking at him again, the quiet had already chipped at your patience. “Maybe the real problem is that you can’t seem to be honest?”

His jawline hardened. “I just wanted you to be safe.”

“From what?”

“From everyone!” He threw his hands up at your caustic tone. “From everything, from hurting, from— From me!”

You crossed your arms over your chest again. “Well, that didn’t work, did it?”

He growled and turned away, and you bit your tongue. You were angry, but saying that did not help.

“I shouldn’t have said that, I—”

“No, you’re right.” 

You instantly straightened your back; his tone was cold and detached as he turned back to face you.

“It was the one thing I wanted. To keep you safe from this side of me. I thought I could do it because no matter how good you smelled, or sweet you tasted, I stopped wanting your blood long ago.”

Your heart was beating harshly, anxiety gripping you as you waited for the other shoe to drop. “Then… What happened tonight?”

He pursed his lips for a moment, and you saw his inner battle before he looked away. His eyes held resolution when they faced you again. “You spoke your heart, and I… couldn’t keep it in anymore.” You were confused, and he chuckled, “It’s not your blood, or rather, not to feed. I didn’t want to feed on you, but I do want… to bite you.”

Your heart pumped strongly inside your rib cage, a mix of relief and —oddly— acceptance spreading through your veins. “That’s… that’s fine, I—”

“That is not fine.”

His tone was so absolute that you frowned. “What? Why?”

“Because you have no idea what it means.”

He turned away to leave the room, and you followed him, confused and agitated. “Well, because you won’t tell me! Maybe if you told me, I could decide differently, but—” He started putting on his shoes, and you sucked in an aggravated breath. “Won’t you face this with me?!” You couldn’t believe he wanted to leave instead of explaining everything to you properly. “Besides, it’s my body and my blood! Shouldn't it be my decision?”

He only glanced at you, a single look worth a thousand words — you had no idea what you were talking about.

“Fucking explain it to me, then,” you bit back at him as he grabbed the doorknob and stepped outside.

He turned to you with such a blank expression, your anger made you clench your jaw.

“This was a mistake on my part.”

“Biting me without warning? Sure—”

“Letting this… happen.”

He waved between you, and you weren’t sure you were breathing right or hearing properly, but suddenly, there was an agonizing sting in your chest.

“I should have known it wouldn’t work out. It was naive of me, I’m sorry.”

Your disbelief and pain morphed your features, but before you could say something, he was already stepping back and away.

“Let’s stop it here.”

It took you a second to react, but you did. “Wait!”

But stepping into the corridor, you saw no one. You looked both ways, confused, but then the building's front door slammed from the floor below yours, cutting through the silence, and you gritted your teeth.

You threw on a coat to withstand the November cold and a pair of boots for the snow and ran after him.

Or so you thought. Thinking about where you should go made you realize you didn't even know where he lived. It never bothered you as much as it did now as you kept running. 

But at least you knew where he worked, and it wasn't far. You saw the building lit up like a mirage in a desert of snow and made your way straight for the twenty-four-seven gym.

*****

Hoseok frowned as the doors that led to the staff area slammed, but he didn’t have time to say or do anything because, suddenly, his priorities shifted. His mouth salivated as his vision narrowed, a tension tingling down his spine as a sweet scent hit his nose. His first instinct was to rush to the reception counter and check the surveillance cameras — maybe a human had gotten hurt, though it was weird because—

You rushed through the automated front door with conviction, scanning the lobby before turning to Hoseok, who was speechless. He instantly could tell that you were the problem; how could you smell so sweet?

“Is he here? Is Jimin here?”

Hoseok was already stepping toward you with his hands in the air to stop you; this was bad. “Are you hurt?! You have blood—”

“I'm not hurt,” you cut in, and the scrutiny in your eyes froze him midway. “How do you know about the blood?”

He could see that your coat covered you from ear to knee. So he could follow your train of thought; how would he know of any blood, unless…

“You're one, too?”

Your question interrupted whatever excuse he was about to give.

He eyed you a bit reluctantly before nodding. “You smell strongly of blood. It's dangerous, you—”

He stilled again with a shudder down his spine. He could feel someone's eyes on him and knew that he could not touch you. No matter what.

Hoseok’s erratic behavior or the fact that you also didn't know that he was a vampire didn’t seem to bother you.

You shook your head to focus. “Is Jimin here? Did he come here?”

Your voice wavered with a cry, and Hoseok glanced back before focusing on you. “Did something happen?”

“He told me he's—” You swallowed. You were trembling along with your voice. You gripped your cold fingers. “He left. We—” 

Hoseok did not react; he didn’t really understand what you were saying, and your presence there was too dangerous. 

You brushed your palms down your face to wipe the tears and tried again, “We've been… seeing one another for… almost a year, and he never told me he… isn't human, and tonight… he bit me.”

Hoseok’s eyes glistened, but he stayed put. “I'm sure that was very traumatic.”

“What?” You frowned, confounded, even as he kept an expectant gaze on you. “I'm not traumatized! Or scared! Or in danger!”

“You don't know about—”

“Shut up!” Your outburst quieted him and you groaned, “I'm sorry, I just— I'm tired of being told I don't know. Of course I don't know! He didn’t tell me anything! And now he ran off without telling me anything! Does that make sense?! With one breath, he says I'm not just anyone, and with the other, he fucking leaves me without any explanation!”

Tears broke down your face again, and this time, you couldn’t help your grimace, turning to hide it for a moment. It hurt you so much. It was so confusing but the more you had time to think about it, the more it hurt.

Your shoulders shook with a sob. “I love him— I told him as much, and now— It's like I have no idea what is happening.”

“Hey,” Hoseok said from behind you as you sniffled and tried controlling your bawling. He was trying to calm you, whispering as you cried, but he couldn’t move, not even one step closer to you.

You turned back to face him, with red eyes and wet cheeks. “You're one, too,” you sniffled, “so tell me the truth. Is it me? Did I do something? He said we were a mistake, so— Is it because I'm human? I don't understand; does it matter?”

Hoseok shook his head. “It's a personal thing. Some will never think of a human beyond prey while others can… see more when they find someone special.”

His tone was gentle, but you didn't catch what he meant; you simply pressed your eyes with your palms to hide. “So I'm neither. Not a human to feed on and not special enough to learn about him.”

“You can't make assumptions like that,” he tried, worry marring his features, and you sniffled and cleaned your face again.

“He left me. Assumptions are all I have.”

“I'm sure he'll talk to you when he's ready,” Hoseok was confident as he declared this, and you shook your head.

“He looked at me like I… was already worthless,” your voice broke down with new tears, and Hoseok raised his hands again, but you stopped him. “It's fine, I… I'm emotional right now, I… I should think about it, too, right? I mean… I love him, but do I even know him?”

Hoseok’s expression hardened. “You do.”

You pressed your lips with skepticism. “Thank you for listening, Hoseok. I… I'm happy you were here.”

You waved weakly and left the same way you came, and Hoseok stayed put, watching you go. “Should we keep an eye on her? At least until she makes it home?”

“She lives just around the corner, and I can hear her heartbeat,” Jimin said, pushing the doors out of the staff area to join Hoseok in the lobby. “I'll hear it if something happens.”

Hoseok’s eyes were inscrutable. “So you did bite her and drink her blood.” Jimin pressed his lips and tried stilling his tongue from licking around to get more of your lingering taste. “And she's still walking about,” Hoseok declared pointedly, then insisted. “She didn't bleed out.”

“Of course not,” Jimin scowled, annoyed that Hoseok even mentioned it. “I closed the wounds.”

“Oh, of course,” he said dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. Jimin’s expression stayed harsh and Hoseok rolled his eyes. “She wasn't scared of you or upset by the fact that you bit her, so what is it? Why are you running away from her?”

“Because it’s not safe for her.”

“You closed the wounds instead of feeding on her.” It was not a question but an attempt at making the younger vampire realize what he had done. Seeing as Jimin’s expression was unmovable, he sighed, “Are you sure she's not safe with you?”

“I bit her!”

The disgust twisted Jimin’s face and Hoseok was unfazed. “So?”

“I could have killed her!”

“Could you, though? You closed the wounds so easily… meaning you didn't want to feed. You want to mark her…” he hummed in thought, and Jimin bit down on his lip. He couldn't deny it, and so Hoseok continued, “That's why you bit her, but you were able to stop and put her first. Because she's yours, isn't she?” He kept probing, trying to get Jimin to say it, but he remained quiet. “Are you sure you would hurt her?”

“I just did!”

Jimin’s annoyance flared with a deep hate, and Hoseok hummed, “Sounds to me like you hurt her more by hiding your nature from her. You heard her — she loves you.”

“Well, she shouldn't!” he finally burst out, with glistening eyes promptly hiding as he turned away. “She doesn't know me!”

“I wonder if that's true,” Hoseok said calmly, contrasting with Jimin greatly. “If you're also hers, and all that.”

A shudder warmed Jimin's blood at the thought, but then he shook his head. “She wouldn’t know.”

“She might. She's a muse, after all.” Hoseok’s voice had a tone of wisdom, and Jimin didn’t bother denying it. “They probably sense these things.” Jimin was looking away, but Hoseok was happy he said it; it was important for Jimin to think about it, too. “You're sure you didn't mark her?”

“No, I… stopped in time.” He swallowed hard as he remembered. 

Cumming inside you was bliss, but doing so drunk on your blood while you chanted your love was euphoric. He had been completely overwhelmed, with both your loves crashing inside his chest, stealing his reason. He loved you so much, he—

He cleared his voice, “Why?”

Hoseok’s eyes were still on the door. “She… smells sweeter.”

Jimin's fists closed by his sides as he searched inside his chest and focused. He could hear your stable heartbeat and sense you were arriving home safely, but that was it. What if he had hurt you in ways he couldn't sense? More than breaking your heart, what if he had done enough damage that you wouldn’t be able to walk away unscathed like he promised?

“I… I'd feel it, right?”

Hoseok finally turned to him. “I don't know. We don’t know anyone who has found their muse to ask, either. Besides, you already love her. I'm not sure if a bond would feel much different.”

Jimin closed his eyes with a muted groan and raked his hands through his hair multiple times; he had loved you for so long, it felt like his whole life. He also didn't know if there would be a difference.

“What are you going to do?” Hoseok asked, and Jimin stopped to look at him. “You can't leave her in the dark like that. You can't.”

His insistence printed on Jimin's heart, but he still looked away. “It's better this way.”

“What?” Hoseok frowned. “Why?”

“It's not safe for her.”

“Sounds to me like she's safer with you than anyone else. No one dared to come near her with you around, even when she smelled so injured and sweet.”

Jimin pressed his eyes for a moment; he couldn't help it. He could hear the other vampires in the vicinity, the same as Hoseok. The humans, too, same as everyone else. But it was his kind that smelled the traces of blood on you, which could have been dangerous, but not while he emitted such an aura — he would destroy whoever would dare to touch you. As simple as that. He couldn't control it, you were—

He sighed, “I'm keeping her safe. It's my fault she was bleeding, so…”

“So?”

“I have to protect her.”

“Do you?” 

Jimin huffed, starting to dread Hoseok questioning his every thought. 

“I mean, sure.” Hoseok shrugged. “She smells sweet, but no one would dare harm her in this neighborhood. You know our rules.” Jimin's jaw twitched, and Hoseok wondered, “So why do you think she needs protection? Maybe you could kill two birds with one stone and protect her while you love her.”

Jimin's jawline hardened. “I can love her from afar.”

“But why would you? Seems to me like she wants you close.”

“We can't be together,” he whispered, and Hoseok chuckled. Jimin insisted, “If she becomes mine… her life as she knows it will end. Eventually, at least. Family, friends… she'll have to let go of what she knows. She won't ever build a family. She'll have to sacrifice everything and step into this dark world she doesn't understand.”

“Sure… But you're her fate,” Hoseok said casually, and Jimin couldn’t deny it, even if he looked down. “Maybe she doesn't even want all those things humans want. Have you asked her?”

Jimin's lips pursed before he pressed them quickly. Hoseok didn't wait for an answer; he patted Jimin's shoulder and got back to his place behind the front desk, leaving the youngest to his devices. He knew Jimin hadn't asked you. They both knew there was so much left unsaid and unexplained by Jimin, just as they knew why that was.

Jimin was too afraid of your decision.

>Click here for Part 2<

[nyeddleblog]

A little piece of heaven [Part 1]

Pairing: Wade Wilson x Original Female Character x Logan Howlett. Summary: In Wade's timeline, Iris is his supernice upstairs neighbor. In Wolverine's, she's his beloved dead wife. A/N: This is a Wattpad Fic with an original character of mine that you can find here. This is just the first chapter that I wanted to share with you. Warnings: Deadpool & Wolverine spoilers, kinda.

Chapter 1: Refraction.

When they entered the room she was in a corner, elbows resting on the table as she talked passionately to Vanessa. Logan's gaze was instantly hooked on her, ever since he realized how her delicate features were exactly as he remembered. He froze, inhaling sharply as the memories came back flooding. Her gentle touch, her soft melodic voice, her cute laugh.

This wasn't, of course, his Iris. He tried to pinpoint each difference as soon as he could but both her beauty and her lively nature were tearing him apart.

Her silky blonde hair fell in blowout waves and her lips were a glossy crimson color. She wore a strange piano pleated skirt that barely covered anything and a mesh blouse that showed the bright red bralette she wore underneath. It felt like a desecration to his wife's memory. A sexier, younger, messier version of what she used to be.

Yet she laughed, her eyes crinkling, her small tooth gap showing. And her shoulders shook, and she talked, and her voice was gleeful and melodic. Iris swayed to the music delicately, timidly and then smiled at her friend in front of her.

She was a sight.

Logan felt Wade's hand gently tap his back and understood that he knew. Rage filled him. The little fucker knew, even back when Logan had told him about his dead wife. The little fucker knew and he hadn't told him that it wasn't like that in every universe. Wade knew that in his, Iris was alive and well. He was going to stab him as soon as she was out of sight.

Logan turned to leave but Wade put a firm hand on his chest and pushed him into the picture, acting as if he didn't know what he was doing.

"Wade!" Iris turned around, smiling sweetly, "I thought for a second there that you weren't going to make it! This is actually my outfit for your funeral!"

"It's the most hideous thing I've seen in my life and yet you managed to pull it off!" he answered snappily, with a smile as sweet as hers, "I came back and I brought you a gift."

Logan frowned, not remembering Wade taking anything from the void. Then, he felt his hand firmly press against the back of his neck, like he was some kind of kitten being carried by it's mother, as he dragged him and pulled him onto Iris. 

He was actually going to stab him right there.

"For me?" Iris followed him suit, putting a hand softly on Logan's shoulder, but giving him an apologetic look when they made eye contact, "I've always wanted a Wolverine!"

"Oh, sweetheart" Wade pressed his hands together and tilted his head, "I know."

"You shouldn't have..." And then she laughed, and extended her hand out for him to shake, "Iris Finch, a pleasure."

She looked up through her lashes and Iris had always had such plump, soft and inviting lips that, despite knowing it wasn't his wife, he wanted to kiss her. 

He managed a nod, his voice barely audible, "Pleasure."

And Logan tried to avoid her for the rest of the night. Emphasis in 'tried', because Wade didn't seem to respect the fact that that was not his dead wife. No, this Iris had dirty blonde hair and she never got her teeth fixed. This Iris used a different perfume, a cheaper one, and seemed to like Wade's jokes far more than what Logan was comfortable with.

But just like his Iris, she had an impecable intuition and every time he wanted to take a look at her, she stared back, giving him a smile. Just like his Iris had, she timidly approached, a known curiosity in her eyes that he missed dearly. And he was back there all over again, feeling endearment for her already.

"I know this is sudden, and maybe a bit forward, but I don't remember you."

"Oh, I'm not from..." he tried to explain, his voice rough, "I'm from another..."

"Timeline, I know" she nodded, fidgeting with the beer in her hand, "I meant..." she looked back at Wade, who was finally talking to Vanessa, and then gave Logan a bashful smile, "What was your Iris' abilities?"

Logan frowned. His Iris. He knew the distinction, he knew the distinction, but how did she know he had a Iris? He licked his lips, feeling uncomfortable, yet he answered "Lucid dreaming."

Iris nodded, "And she never told you what dreamwalking was?"

He felt his nostrils flare and anger start to get a hold of him. He didn't understand why yet, but Iris' existence alone was starting to enrage him. Felt like an impostor, uncanny and profaning.

"No."

The girl, oblivious of his annoyance, smiled widely and started explaining in depth the abilities of his beloved dead wife. To be fair, she was explaining her own abilities but Logan didn't want another version of Iris telling him something about her. 

"...And that's why every time I fall asleep, I usually see a Wolverine." she continued, making him raise his eyebrows "And of course I don't think I've met every single one of them, but I'm pretty sure I would've remembered you if I had!"

"In order for you to dreamwalk into another universe, you need another you inhabiting it, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well, my wif... Iris" he corrected himself, making sure that he was staring straight into her eyes and making himself clear, "Has been dead for over twenty years."

Iris's smile faltered, replaced by a look of genuine surprise.

"I... I'm so sorry. I didn't know. I thought..."

Logan's anger was slowly simmering down, replaced by a cold, hard realization. It wasn't really her fault that she was another version of the love of his life, however fucked up that was.

A long silence stretched between them, filled only by the soft murmur of the crowd. Iris was the first to break it, smiling yet again. 

"So, you're my new downstairs neighbor, huh?"

A/N: I hope u guys understand where I'm going with this... And yes, I'm going to make a side fanfiction where I write the sweet, tragic story of Logan and Iris of his timeline.

NEXT PART.

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Honey Girl. The Masterlist.

Series Synopsis - The Universe shows you your soulmate when it feels like you need them most. When you least expect it, you're given yours - Bucky Barnes. Your Dad's best friend. You can try to refuse it all you like; but the universe wants what it wants. There's no denying fate.

Pairing - Dad'sBestFriend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au

Warnings - smut. age gap (but all legal and consensual). cursing. angst. alcohol consumption.

Word Count (so far) - 60k

Author's Note - another idea i've had for so long!! set in a beautiful coastal beach town - picture sunshine, sailing, beaches and your dad's hot best friend. what more could you want?

Chapter One.

Chapter Two.

Chapter Three.

Chapter Four.

Chapter Five.

Chapter Six.

Chapter Seven.

Chapter Eight.

Chapter Nine.

Chapter Nine - the reveal I didn’t choose.

Chapter Ten.

Chapter Eleven.

Chapter Twelve.

Christmas.

to be continued…

The Playlist.

The Moodboard.