#the BANG after the first 'i let it all go' like the thud of a body against cold pavement? the swell of screeching strings afterwards? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bleachification · 11 months

Text

⸻ JEALOUS, JEALOUS BOY

pairing: sanji x reader

word count: 5.7k

synopsis: life as a pirate is never boring, especially when your best friend is sanji—a flirtatious chef who can’t seem to sort out his feelings, or yours, for that matter. that makes things all the more complicated when you’re forced to go undercover and sanji is dragged along with you as your very fake husband. the million-dollar question is: when lines start blurring, how do you differentiate between what’s fake and what’s real?

+ + + + + + + + + + + + +

“We broke up.”

“How long? Two months?”

You shrug. “I stopped counting anniversaries after the first couple of failed ones.”

Sanji swings his knife a tad too forcefully. The loud THUD of it smashing into the cutting board causes you to jump. You peer over the counter and grimace at the sight.

“God, what did that poor tuna ever do to you?”

Sanji continues slicing into the red flesh, more aggressively than before, but still with the same care and precision that he affords every ingredient he touches.

“Why?”

“Why what?” You lift your gaze to his face, smiling softly at the concentration twisting his features. It’s one of the things you admire greatly about Sanji—the sheer dedication and love he has for his craft.

“Why did you break up with him?” Sanji repeats. He’s chopping up a variety of garnish now. Again, with more aggression than necessary.

You raise a brow, but decide not to comment on it.

“What makes you think I was the one who called it quits?”

He sets the knife down and turns to you, blonde bangs falling across his face. Sanji flashes you his signature flirtatious smile, but there’s a strange hint of tension attached to it.

“Who would ever think to break up with you?” He leans in, gaze darkening. “They would have to be crazy.”

You pull back, rolling your eyes. He’s always like this. Coy. Intimate. The ultimate womanizer. Sometimes… you wish it could be different.

“Well, he must have been crazy then.”

“What?” Sanji pauses, confusion etches his expression. “You… wait… he broke up with you?!”

“Don’t sound so surprised. He only beat me to it by a week. I had the decency to try and wait until after Valentines,” you note. You aren’t particularly broken up about the whole thing. Your ex is barely an ex—a summer fling, if anything. But Sanji, on the other hand, is acting as if some horrible crime has been committed.

“I’ll kill him.”

You blink. “Okay. A bit of an overreaction.”

“How dare he…” Sanji mumbles, not hearing you. His hand tightly grips the knife handle, and you swear the temperature just dropped even in the presence of boiling pots and simmering roux.

“Alright, enough. Don’t be so dramatic,” you laugh, moving to gently pry his fingers from their iron grip on the handle. He lets you—watching as you take the blade from him, and relishing in the soft feel of your skin against his. He itches to grab your hand and pull you closer. But he doesn’t. He won’t.

He can’t.

Sanji learned very quickly that his charms and gimmicks weren’t going to work on you. In all fairness, they rarely do, but for some unfathomable reason, he can’t seem to let that particular rejection go. He will always resent that part of him for pushing you away and drawing that boundary—a line you both delicately toe, never to cross over to each other’s side.

Your first meeting was… disastrous, to say the least. Sanji had just met the crew, and was tripping over himself to impress Nami, when you had made your way back to the others after a quick break in the powder room.

You had witnessed all of his shameless flirting and blatant promiscuity on your way back. You immediately took a strong dislike to the blonde chef, his behaviour reminiscent of exes that were none too pleasant.

“I’m back.”

At the sound of your voice, Sanji beamed, turning to strike up another flowery bombardment of compliments and flattery… only to freeze in place when he saw you.

For once, his silver tongue lacked its luster, fumbling before the sight of you.

For once, he knew not what to say or do. He could only stare. Only admire and behold.

“Good job. You broke the chef,” Zoro deadpanned.

You pulled an expression of slight concern and mild annoyance.

“Um… are you alright?” You waved a hand across Sanji’s face. No reaction. The rest of the crew barely paid him any mind, too busy either eating, drinking… or arguing, in Nami and Zoro’s case.

You slipped into the booth next to Zoro, choosing to ignore the bizarre situation, when a deep, rumbling voice belonging to a peg-legged old man boomed from across Baratie.

“SANJI!”

It snapped Sanji out of his stupor, grounding him back into reality.

“Marry me.”

But perhaps not logic.

“What?”

Zoro pulled a face of disgust eerily similar to your own. Somewhere in the background, you vaguely heard Ussop choking on his drink. Nami clapped thunderously on his back. Is she trying to help him or kill him?

Luffy, through all of this, watched with bright, curious eyes.

“Yuuummphh fuu’yyy,” exclaimed Luffy, his mouth full of bread, gravy, and what you can only assume is a whole ribeye steak.

Zoro turned his disgust toward the captain. “Are you kidding?”

Luffy scarfed down another forkful of food, grinning wide as he swallowed the last of his meal. He patted his stomach, content, before turning his attention back to Sanji.

“You’re funny!” He laughed.

“That’s what you were trying to say?!”

Luffy ignored Zoro’s exasperation and just giggled in his usual carefree manner. Sanji ignored them all, choosing only you to spare his attention. You shifted uncomfortably, tension coursing through your veins at the way he watched you. As if you were the greatest treasure in all of the Four Seas and he was the king of the pirates—a man would do anything to covet it. Covet you.

Zoro and Luffy didn’t seem to grasp the situation as they continued to bicker in the background.

“Boys. Stop… FIGHTING!” Nami barked out. A swift smack from the ginger settled them both down, each sulking in a corner as she berated them for their behaviour.

You took a deep breath, willing your nerves to calm. You met Sanji’s eyes and they shone with hope.

“You want me to marry you?”

“Yes. Desperately,” he breathed out.

If heart eyes were real, they would beat within the passion of his gaze. Strong. Intense. Unabashed. You despised it. How could he look at you in that way after mere moments of greetings? It was lust. Nothing less, and certainly nothing more.

“SANJI, GET YOUR ASS BACK IN HERE!”

Sanji clenched his jaw at the voice, frustration and irritation barely contained. His expression smoothed over as he spoke to you.

“Think it over?”

You raise a brow. “What? The proposal?”

“Precisely that,” he smiled. Gorgeous asshole.

“Over my dead body,” you scoffed. Your rejection didn’t seem to deter him though, the grin on his face still present even as he left for the kitchen.

So many sleepless nights later and Sanji still can’t help but sigh whenever he remembers that day. He wishes he could take back his words, his actions… his everything. Maybe you would love him back if he did. Maybe you wouldn’t be dating morons who don’t even come close to deserving you—not that he does, but he would try.

For you, he would try it all.

Your soft voice breaks him out of his trip down memory lane.

“Seriously, it’s not a big deal,” you reassure.

Sanji wants to shout, But it is! Don’t you get that? How could losing you not be a big deal?

Instead, he shakes his head and takes a long draw from his cigarette. He watches the clouds waft up in lazy rings, circle around your head, and disintegrate into the kitchen heat. Sanji finds it increasingly difficult to meet your eyes.

“Are you alright, love?”

His genuine concern for you makes you smile. “I’m alright, Sanji. I wasn’t that attached, anyway.”

That twinkle in his eyes. It's back again.

“Really? Then what about my initial offer?” he jokes. Though it doesn’t sound like a joke to him. Doesn’t feel like one either.

“What are you talking about?” You ask. You take a spoonful of the broth and bring it to your lips, ignorant of the tense atmosphere. At least until the magnitude of Sanji’s next words drops.

“You know… marrying me.” Sanji holds his breath.

Shit. Why did I say that? He thinks, regretfully.

You falter, the spoon quickly forgotten in the pot. Your appetite disappears just as swiftly.

“Everytime I think we’re having a nice, serious conversation, you just have to go and… say something like that. Aren’t you bored of it? Tired of all the false promises and sweet talk?” You shake your head and stand up to leave.

“[Name], I–”

You cut him off. “I’m disappointed, Sanji.”

“Please, just hear–”

The kitchen door bursts open to show Usopp, who hurriedly beckons you both outside.

“Crew meeting, come on!”

Sanji turns to you, about to say something else, but you ignore him and follow Usopp out into the hallway and up to the deck. Sanji has no choice but to do the same.

Winter has arrived in the form of early nights and fresh snowfall—as if the chilling temperature itself isn’t enough of an indicator. Your breath crystallizes in the air as the three of you venture outside to where you meet the rest of the crew.

Nami has a large sheet of parchment spread flat across the floor with each member of the crew positioned around it in a wide circle. Upon closer inspection, you realize it isn’t one of her usual cartographic maps. It’s a blueprint. And the subject of it… is a castle?

“Nami, what is this?” You ask as you take a seat next to her.

With a pen, she circles a small room located in the eastern wing of the building’s upper level. It sits above a sprawling space. A ballroom, you wager. The schematics look complicated enough.

Nami begins to explain. “This is a blueprint of Ceres Palace, a high-security manor sitting atop the nearest port city. It is home to a powerful noble family…”

She flips the paper over. “…and this.”

A mass of glimmering golden ink shines under the moonlight, every meticulously painted stroke deliberate and delicate. The image is clear.

“Is that a devil fruit?” Robin inquires, eyes narrowing.

“One crafted from solid gold and pure diamond dust, gilded with sea jadeite. It is the most monetarily valuable ‘devil fruit’ in the world, depending on who you ask,” Nami answers. She flips the parchment again. “And we are going to steal it.”

“Wait a damn minu-“

“Hold on-“

“Are we sure that’s-“

A chorus of protests and concerns rise from the rest of the crew, and for good reason. From just a first glance of the palace grounds, you can tell this will be a risky heist, and something in your gut tells you that there’s more to it.

Nami shuts them all up with a pointed glare.

“Do you realize how long I spent drawing up this stupid thing?! One more word from any of you and I will shove it down your throat. Whole,” she threatens.

No one speaks.

“Good. Now, as I was saying, this heist will consist of two parts. The actual theft and the distraction.”

Sanji raises his hand. Nami points at him and nods.

“Why, exactly, are we stealing someone’s gold…er…artifact? I get that we’re pirates but… a bit out of the way, isn’t it?”

Nami, Ussop, and Chopper sigh in unison. The latter ambles your way and climbs into your lap, snuggling for warmth.

“Hello baby,” you murmur. You smile softly as the little reindeer tucks himself into your welcome embrace. You give Chopper a scratch under the chin before turning your attention back to the conversation at hand.

Zoro barely pays any attention, head bobbing a bit. He’s already falling asleep. Typical. Robin, on the other hand, seems to recognize the object.

“I’ve heard of this. Its original name was The Monarch’s Heart. It belonged to the royal family of that island. Twenty years ago, the king’s most trusted advisor spearheaded a coup d’état and a violent rebellion broke out, ending with the execution of the royal family, as well as the usurpation of the former, now exiled, king.” Robin crouches and lightly brushes the blueprint, tracing along its curves. “All this time, the Heart was believed to have been lost amidst war. You’re saying one of the nobles stole it?”

Nami scratches her head and grimaces. “Well, yeah, kinda.”

“What do you mean, ‘kinda’”? You ask.

“We don’t have any proof. Not really,” she shrugs.

“So, again, why are we doing this?” Sanji reiterates.

“We have proof!” Luffy grins. Your captain finally speaks up, too preoccupied with messing with a sleeping Zoro moments ago.

“Luffy—” Nami starts.

“What? I believe the old man. He’s a good guy.” Luffy pats his stomach. “He fed me.”

“What old man?” You’re getting more and more confused as the meeting drags on.

“Luffy. You met the exiled king, didn’t you?” Robin’s eyes twinkle with curiosity.

“Um… I don’t know? I forgot his name but he was nice. Told me about how his stuff got stolen unfairly so I promised to get it back for him.”

“So you don’t even know if he’s telling the truth? What if he was the bad guy, and the nobles who took over overthrew a tyrant?” Sanji blows smoke from his cigarette as he prods.

“He was not,” Robin states factually. “The king was known to be kind and benevolent, catering only to the needs of his people. Since that nation's birth, the royal faction was always at odds with the avaricious nobility. That tension came to a head in the form of a brutal uprising. Though massacre is much more fitting of a description for what occurred.”

“Mhm, mhm, mhm.” Luffy nods vigorously at her words. “So we’re gonna get his gold back for him.”

“Liberating another nation, are we?” Zoro yawns, barely waking up.

“Seems like it,” Nami sighs.

“It’s what the captain wants,” Robin smiles.

“And what Luffy wants…” you begin.

Everyone else groans.

“Luffy gets.”

“So…” Sanji shifts next to you. Closer. His warmth clouds your senses a little and you try to ignore the dizzying effect it has on you. “How do we do this, exactly?”

“I bust down the door and slice ‘em up,” Zoro offers.

“In your dreams, Mosshead. I could take down—”

You pinch his side. Sanji jumps and turns to you, a slight pout on his face. Despite what happened earlier, you find yourself trying not to laugh.

“You’re not doing that, Zoro,” Chopper scolds.

The swordsman tsks. “Fine. Then how the hell are we actually pulling this off?”

Nami explains the plan.

Sanji turns white.

Your mouth drops open. “Excuse me?!”

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 . 　

“Oh god, I’m going to throw up.”

Robin chuckles as she hands you silken gloves. “Don’t worry. You’ll do just fine. Remember, get in, pull the alarm, get out.”

“Easier said than done,” you grumble.

The plan is actually much more complex than what Robin makes it out to be.

The palace itself has two separate alarm systems—one for the vault, and another in case of fire. If both are activated at the same exact moment, they cause a complete system break, and the fire alarm overrides the theft security, forcing an evacuation with everyone none the wiser.

The plan is for you and Sanji to infiltrate the party under the pretense of a foreign dignitary and his spouse, survey and locate the alarm, cause a distraction, and pull the alarm the precise moment Nami unlocks the vault. All communicated via Den Den Mushi earpieces.

Easy peasy.

Your clothing sticks to you uncomfortably—tight in areas you don’t normally expose to the world. The scented oil in your hair makes you smell like you had just popped fresh out of the oven. A layered film of glittering makeup rests on your features, rendering the person in the mirror a complete, hapless stranger.

“Why did it have to be me?”

And Sanji?

You don’t voice that last bit.

“Nami’s the thief, the other boys would blow their covers immediately, I have other matters to attend to, and Chopper… Well, Chopper’s a reindeer.”

You run a hand through your hair. Anxiety claws at your skin. You feel a sudden urge to feign illness and rid yourself of this ridiculous plan.

“Must we pose as a couple? Surely there are other ways,” you implore.

“The invites we swiped were from married nobles,” Robin reminds.

You groan. Robin pats your shoulder supportively.

“There there. Don’t fret, you’ll do fine. Are you ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Robin gives you another encouraging pat before she ushers you out of the dressing room.

You make your way outside, shivering slightly as the winter winds bite into your skin. The thin fabric of your garments do nothing to shield the cold.

Someone lets out a sharp inhale. You turn towards the noise. Sanji stands to your left, clutching an envelope in hand. His usual suave demeanour is displaced by an air of buzzing anxiety and a starstruck expression.

He’s dressed in a sleek three-piece black suit. It pains you how devastatingly handsome he looks.

“You clean up nice,” you note.

“I…uh. You—Sorry, yeah, what?” Sanji replies, all smooth and intelligent.

“…Pardon?”

Robin watches the entire interaction with a pained grimace. Having enough, she steps up and gently steers you towards Sanji.

“Hurry up, now. They’re expecting you both soon. Don’t forget to stay in character, lest you end up blowing your covers.” She winks at you both, but you can’t help but think it was directed more towards Sanji.

“Shall we?”

Seemingly recovered from whatever alien had possessed him seconds ago, the chef offers you his arm with a small smile. You place your hand around his bicep and try to ignore his rippling muscles underneath your fingertips.

“Color me surprised. I really thought you’d have showered me with compliments by now,” you joke.

“I thought you didn’t like that part of me.”

Disappointment blooms in your chest.

“Right. I don’t. I just…” you trail off. You just thought you looked nice tonight. And maybe a small part of you was hoping he felt the same.

“Never mind.”

You slip your hand out of the crook of Sanji’s arm and start walking a little bit faster, hoping he doesn’t notice the conflicting emotions on your face.

When Sanji first joined the crew, you made yourself a promise: that you would never fall for his charms. But as time went on and he showed you a mountain of kindness, understanding, and empathy… that promise, steadily, became much harder to keep and much easier to forget. It wasn’t his flirting and charms that were dangerous—it was the man buried underneath all that playful pretense. A man who has stubbornly found his way into your guarded heart, despite your best efforts of keeping him out.

It was always easier that way. Easier to turn away, to shut him out. Easier to walk away when you catch him with others who drew his interest and to stop listening as he murmurs sweet nothings in their ears—the very ones he had whispered to you. It was easier to accept that you are not, and will not, be special to him.

You refuse to be just another mark in his book of conquests, and if all it takes is a silent heartbreak to avoid such a fate, so be it. You’ve survived much worse before.

The palace soon comes into view, a grand structure that stretches into the vertical horizon. The path towards the marbled entrance is busy with bustling guests and the glowing orbs of rainbow fireflies. You steadily, and as elegantly as possible, make your way towards the host out in front.

“Good evening, may I see your invitations for the night?” He asks, gloved hand outstretched in expectation.

Sanji flashes him a million-berry smile. “Of course, my good sir. I have them right here.”

He pulls out the envelope you had seen earlier from inside his black suit jacket. The greeter accepts the documents and diligently scans them. After a few seconds, he nods, satisfied by what he sees, and hands the papers back to Sanji.

“Enjoy your night.” He moves aside to let you pass and holds an arm out, guiding you both through the white stone doors.

As soon as you step through the entrance , you are greeted by a foyer fit for kings. A cascading staircase blanketed by red velvet leads to even larger double doors, both white like the walls, but trimmed with gold linings and spiral handles. A crystal chandelier, bigger than you ever thought possible, hangs from the ceiling. It casts shining diamonds in every reflection of the room.

Sanji holds out his arm for you again as you both prepare to execute the mission, but you don’t immediately go to take it. Sanji must sense your hesitation because he sighs and gives you a strained, yet still affectionate smile.

“[Name], please. If not for me, then for appearances. We’re married, remember?”

“Fake married,” you correct, although you relent and slip your hand in the crook of his elbow anyway.

“You don’t have to remind me.”

Arm in arm, Sanji leads you to the ballroom. The doors open to reveal hundreds of nobles draped in silk and pearls, dining on delicacies, and mingling with others of their same social echelon. You already want to go home.

You both find a small table tucked into a corner and stand around it.

“We have to wait until Nami gives us the signal. First, let’s blend in and make sure to look like we belong,” you whisper.

Sanji leans in to hear you better. “What do you suggest? We could hit the banquet table, the food doesn’t look half bad.”

You peer over his shoulder at the platters of hor d'oeuvres and fancy desserts. “They don’t look nearly as good as what you make.”

“Was that a compliment?” Sanji grins.

“Don’t get used to it. Your heads already far too big,” you smirk.

“I don’t have that much of an ego,” he grumbles, picking at a loose thread on his sleeve.

“Hey, don’t do that.” You gently swat at his hand, admonishing him for trying to pull the string out.

“Why? It’s annoying.”

“Yeah, but you’ll ruin it even more if you just yank at it. Hold on.” You pluck a small oyster shucker from a passing waitress’s pocket, with her none the wiser. With the knife, you smoothly cut away the thread and flick it into a bin behind you.

Sanji stares at you in awe. “Did you just pickpocket the…”

“Not a word.”

“Got it.”

“Anyway, we don’t want to ruin these clothes. They’re borrowed. And so much nicer than what we’re used to.”

You pull at your collar to adjust it, only to realize Sanji is staring at you again, but with a different glint in his eyes. One with more… heat. It is only now that you realize how close you are to him—pressed up against his side, thigh-to-thigh and shoulder-to-shoulder, as you both converse away from the crowd. Sanji exudes warmth that, mixed with your own cluttered feelings, makes you a bit dizzy. You take a step back. Sanji’s gaze never leaves you.

“Did I tell you earlier how good you look?”

You swallow. “No.”

He steps closer, closing the gap again. “You look good. Really, really good.”

“Thanks. Formal clothing does wonders.” Your laugh comes out more nervous than you intended.

“Unbelievably good,” he murmurs, almost to himself—like he can’t believe what’s right in front of him.

“Sanji–”

A screeching violin note interrupts you and the strange moment you both got caught up in. Sanji snaps back to his usual self and quickly shakes his head, as if clearing away a fog.

“Food,” he coughs.

You blink. “Right. Food.”

“I’m gonna…” Sanji motions towards the buffet.

You’ve never seen him this… awkward. You’re not sure what to make of it.

“Yeah. Go ahead. I’m gonna scope out the place and figure out where the alarm is.”

He stiffly nods, then makes his way across the ballroom. You turn heel and begin walking along the corridors, scanning for anything that may resemble an alarm.

A static noise crackles in your right ear.

“Can…I—“

A sudden spike of sharp feedback makes you wince.

“Sorry! Can you hear me?” Nami’s voice pipes up.

“Yes. Comms are working. What am I looking for, Nami?”

“Something resembling a button, maybe? Look for a red button or something along those lines.”

“Understood..”

After about ten minutes of searching, you finally come upon it, a small red lever nestled in a corner behind the bar, protected by a square glass casing.

You spot Sanji across the room, mid-conversation with a beautiful, young noble. Your chest twinges, but you push the feeling away. His eyes flit to yours and you subtly wave him over, gesturing to the alarm handle.

Sanji excuses himself and briskly makes his way to you.

“You found it?”

“Of course. It’s the whole reason we’re here, remember?” You ignore the lump in your throat.

“Sorry, I got distracted. I didn’t think—”

“It’s fine, Sanji. You were having fun. You don’t have to apologize. Did you get her number at least?” You try and coolly play it off.

His eyebrows knit together. “No. No, I—”

“Anyway, we should figure out how to distract the bartender. He’s the only one who is in the way.”

If Sanji notices your blatant attempt at changing the subject, he doesn’t show it.

“Sure. Any ideas, beautiful?”

“One.”

“What’s the plan?”

You fidget with your sleeve. “He’s been eyeing me all night.”

Sanji makes a disapproving noise. “...I noticed.”

“I’ll distract him. You get the alarm,” you shrug.

Sanji’s eyes narrow. “How, exactly, are you going to do that?”

“C’mon, Sanji, you can’t be that dense. I’m going to seduce him.”

His reply is immediate and final. “No.”

You balk at his flat tone. “What do you mean: no?”

“No. As in opposite of yes. As in absolutely not,” he hisses.

“Sanji. I have t-”

“No as in not okay!”

You place a hand over his mouth in an effort to stop his outburst. “Shhh! Stop that. Are you trying to draw attention to us?!”

He pulls your arm away, undeterred by your growing panic of being found out. “If it’ll get you to reconsider, then yes!”

“Sanji, enough. What is wrong with you? Why are you so worked up?”

“Do you seriously have to ask that?” He cries out, exasperated.

You open your mouth to retort, but Nami’s voice interrupts you.

“Sorry to break up whatever dumb fight this is, but I need someone to pull the alarm in exactly 60 seconds.”

You give Sanji an expectant look. He firmly shakes his head.

“Not happening.”

Before you can stop him, the chef makes his way to the bar, stumbling as if drunk. Before you know what’s happening, Sanji pulls a whiskey bottle from behind the bar, much to the bartender's protests and dismay. He takes a large swig, and you blow out a breath of relief when he sets it down.

Then he picks it back up again. You watch in horror as he lifts the bottle up and… accidentally pours the entire thing onto the champagne tower beside him. The glasses overflow, and the weight of the extra liquid becomes too much. One by one, the glasses come tumbling down in a landslide of alcohol and crystal.

The bartender cries out in distress. Sanji is unapologetic.

You run to the alarm amidst the mess.

“Ready, [name]?”

“Whenever you are, Nami.”

She begins counting down and the moment you hear: Now!, you pull the handle.

All hell breaks loose.

Blaring alarms ring out, drowning out every other possible sound. Sprinklers sprout from the ceiling and rain down on the partygoers, soaking them and the luxury furniture. Hundreds of panicked patrons scramble to leave, directed by equally flustered staff.

You feel a tug on your sleeve. It’s Sanji.

He tries saying something but is drowned out by the chaos around you. Frustrated, he beckons you over and motions for you to follow him.

After a couple minutes of navigating through screaming nobility, you end up on a secluded balcony away from all the activity. The alarms are barely louder than bells on this end of the palace.

You take a second to catch your breath. Both of you are drenched to the bone, and the chilly winter air does nothing to help your chattering teeth.

Sanji notices your shivering form and immediately drapes his jacket over your shoulders.

You smile gratefully at him, but falter when you see the frown on his face.

“What’s wrong?”

“Take it out.”

You blink. “What?”

“The earpiece. Take it out,” he says, impatient.

“Why?”

Sanji runs a hand through his hair in both irritation and anxiousness. “Because I’m going to confess my love for you and I don’t want everyone to hear it. They’d never let me live it down, especially that green-haired freak.”

You freeze. Your thoughts freeze. Every fucking thing stops dead in it’s tracks, including your heart.

“Sanji, this isn’t funny.” Your voice trembles.

“Baby, take the earpiece out. Let me talk to you,” he asks softly.

You don’t say anything, you don’t trust yourself to. With shaking hands, you take the Den Den Mushi out and turn it off.

It is only you and Sanji now.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” you echo.

“[Name].”

God, why does he have to say your name in that way? Like it means something more than friends—like it’s worth its weight in both diamonds and gold.

“This still isn’t funny.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not joking,” he says, tone as serious as you’ve ever heard it.

You sigh. “What are we doing, Sanji?”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m trying to confess my undying love to my favourite person in the world. It’s scary.”

“You say that—”

“I mean it,” he interjects.

“What makes me different? What makes me…”

Worthy of your love?

Sanji reaches for you, but stops himself at your expression. You continue questioning his words.

“How do I know this isn’t just some temporary thing? A fleeting crush?” You swallow hard. For some reason, you’re unable to meet his steady gaze. “How do I know this is real?”

He rubs the back of his neck, conflicting emotions flickering across his face. Sanji struggles to find the words needed to convince you. He tries his best, anyway.

“I know what my reputation is like. I know the personality I present to the world. But after I met you, none of it seemed worth it anymore. There was no appeal to living that type of life,” he pauses. Sanji lifts his head and stares straight at you, unwavering in his words. “The moment I saw you, I thought I’d die if I couldn’t be yours. I still think that now.”

Oh. Your chest is trying to kill you. That’s the only explanation for the ache you feel.

“I trust you with my life, Sanji. But not my heart.”

The alarms have stopped by now. Soon, people will come trickling back inside and the mission will be over. This moment in time will soon fade into the background of reality.

“I only ask that you give me a chance.”

“What makes you so sure that you’re the kind of guy I want to be with?”

“As opposed to your exes? Those guys—none of them deserved you,” he scoffs, annoyed at the mere mention of them.

You raise a brow. “Do you?”

“No. Of course not,” he answers. “But I want to try. Please, god, let me try.”

Your hands are still shaking, but not from the cold.

“We should get back to the ship,” you say, a strained smile on your face.

Sanji’s face falls at your deflection, but he accepts it and doesn’t push. He nods, and you both make your way back to the Merry, an uncomfortable silence hanging over you like a wet blanket.

You are only a couple hundred meters out from the ship when you stop abruptly. Sanji almost crashes into you, but steadies himself at the last second.

“Is something wrong?” He asks in concern.

Before you can lose your nerve, you whirl around and utter two words: “One date.”

It takes Sanji a few moments to understand what you just said, but when he does, he lights up like a kid on Christmas Eve. One who just met Santa. The sheer joy on his face makes it all worth it.

“You’re not messing with me, right? Please say no,” he shakily pleads.

You shake your head. “One. Make it count.”

Instead of answering, he throws his arms around you, wrapping you in his warm embrace.

You loop your arms around his neck and he melts into you, never wanting to let go.

“I’ll make you say yes to a second one. And then a third. And then a lifetime of dates after that. I swear it on my honour as a chef.”

“It’ll have to be a pretty damn good date then,” you laugh.

Sanji presses his forehead on yours.

“It’ll be the best date.”

“And how do you know that?” You tease.

“Because you will be there.”

—

˚ · . tags: @zjarrmiii @aiizenn @emyyy007

1K notes · View notes

nonuify · 5 months

Note

Hiii I just read your top 3 kinks svt would have and it was so good! Made my brain go brrr 💦 Can I request a full one shot for Jeonghan with the corruption kink? Maybe smth with him corrupting his innocent, virgin gf? Thank youuu!

ᝰ.ᐟ ♟️ — Y.JH ; ! not so angelic

nsfw is included ! minors do not interact 18+. [ smut, fluff ] ꩜. | wc ; 1.1k.

“ when you & your boyfriend got in a heated make out session but he stopped knowing your a virgin. so you send him some not so innocent photos in work so he gets back & bends you over “

you & your lovely boyfriend jeonghan were watching a movie all cuddley together then suddenly you ended up on his lap making out, grinding on his crotch here in there. “ hannie please please let’s do it “ you pouted then went back to kiss him, he then stopped in his tracks to reply “ baby i know it’s just in the heat of the moment, i want our first to be special” he caressed your cheeks so lovingly “ but- “ you got cut off by him. “ trust me on this baby, cmon let’s go to back to watching the movie.”how dare he?

how dare he leaving you all hot & bothered like that. yes you were inexperienced but that didn’t meant you don’t have horny thoughts & it doesn’t help having a hot fucking boyfriend.

you slouched back on the couch trying to focus on the movie, but clearly by you’re face you weren’t having it all.

after your little encounter with jeonghan yesterday, you woke up still horny & bothered.

you couldn’t do anything about it too, jeonghan had gone to work which made even worse.

trying to just forget about it, you go to make yourself some food, watch tv do anything at this point but you can’t help but ache down there, you’ve always wondered how it feels if jeonghan just pumped his pretty cock in you i mean yes of course, you’ve masturbated but you little fingers don’t compare obviously to his cock, you’ve seen him hard one time & boy was it obvious he was big & lengthy.

sitting down on the same couch as last night. you’re being tortured by this needy feeling, pouting & hugging the pillow next to you “ I wish han was here “ you said… thoughts taking over suddenly you looked over the pillow that you were hugging.

looking at it puzzled till it hit you. grabbing your shorts & panties taking them off leaving you just with a little top.

the feeling of the cold pillow hitting your sensitive needy nub rolled your eyes, letting out a whine, beginning to hump on it slowly absolutely loving the feeling of the fabric rubbing your clit “m-mph, I wish it was hannie” you moaned out loud, feeling overwhelmed you sped up, wanting more of it.

grabbing your tit with one hand & teasing your hard nipples. “ f-fuck “ it was the first time you’ve done this and certainly not the last, this new sensation was so good n made u feel so dirty.

oh how clueless you are for feeling that, it was only a pillow after all not your lovers dick.

a feeling inside your stomach came, which made you go even faster till orgasm came spewing on the pillow, you flopped on the couch processing what just happened, biting your lip, then grabbing your phone snapping a pic of the pill then your wet cunt.

you hit the send button to your boyfriend jeonghan. “that’ll teach him to give what I want” you giggled

ping !

hannie 🎀 / what the fuck did you just did??

you / just a little surprise 🤭

hannie 🎀 / you fuckin whore thinking your so smug, sending this to me while at work ? I’ll ruin you, tried to be so nice about making love to you for a first time. but my baby thought other things

you / just wanted you :((

hannie 🎀 / oh you’ll get me all right.

fuck you’ve never seen this side of him before he was always so sweet & loving to you.

not that you hated it you absolutely fucking loved it. you were ready to get ruined by him.

bang !

a loud thud. he was here & you were kinda nervous. not scared if you didn’t want it he would drop everything & hug you so lovingly.

“hi hannie“ you came up to him & all your naked glory. he pulled your hair causing you to look up to him “think your acting so sweet didn’t know my innocent pretty angel was like this“ he eyed you. you felt your knees weaken. fuck he was so hot like this.

picking you up like a princess & laying you down “gonna shove my cock down your throat how does that sound baby?, wanna just hear you fuckin’ gag hm” his belt came off. kissing you.

plopping you up your knees at the end of bed while he sat it on it.

you saw his raging boner poking out his pants, before he revealed his pretty dick, hitting his chest when he pulled it out, you saw how his tip was a pretty pink shade with a little bit of precum. “cmon baby it isn’t going to suck itself isn’t it?” lining it up your mouth, you opened and licked his tip.

then slowly you swallowed it adjusting its big fat size, for fucks sake it was your first time.

he wasn’t patient. no he grabbed your head & pushed it all the way to the back of your throat it hit, you gagged really loud “fuck sure is this your first time? takin me so well s-shit” he threw his head, face-fucking you to guide you a little bit while you got working on taking him whole.

your head bobbing up & down, looking at your pretty boyfriend who was in complete pleasure groaning so loud & cussing here in there.

“angel im gonna cum fuck!” his warm seed shot down your throat with a little bit spilling of your lips. “open your mouth f’me” you obeyed & did.

you did not expect for this to happen, he spat. fuckin spat in your mouth. “swallow for me pretty” you did, loving the salty & warm taste you moaned.

“shit didn’t do nothing to you & your like a bitch in heat” laughed at you, you got even more wet by the second, pulling you up letting you straddle his lap “wan’ ride you just like the pillow hannie” you whined “hm since you sucked my dick, cmon ride me baby” he allowed you.

now you were terrified but you were determined to take his cock like champ & give him the best experience, he could since worry on your face, he held it & said “I know you can do it sweets, if you don’t wan-“ “no I want it” you retorted.

holding his dick up for you, you positioned yourself on his member, sliding only his tip, you moaned “f-fuck!” he held your hips to help you, slid through half of his shaft “is it all of it n-now” you pouted “baby you’re only half way” he chuckled to himself then thrusted slowly to take him up full “m-m!! hannie fuck you feel so good when I’m so full” “ cmon move those hips for me baby, be my dirty little angel” he whispered as you began to move your hips slowly to adjust to his size picking up the speed with it

han would fuck his cock into you so it hit all your good spots while you bounced up & down on him, loving your fucked out figure. tits bouncing with you he slapped’’em.

feeling up as you were close to your high, by your face he knew that your close.

suddenly he flipping you over onto missionary drilling his hips into you “s-slow down !” you didn’t actually mean it you were a whore for it “nah gonna fuck you till you only remember my name baby hmm like that?” “feeling so boled sending your pretty puffed up pussy like I wasn’t gonna ruin ya?” he kissed & bit your lip you just moaned & whined “need an answer from you” smack! he hit your tits once again pinching your pretty little nipple “m-mph y-yeah hannie please please ruin me” you said loudly, tears falling from how good you were feeling.

this was now what? your fourth orgasm he had no mercy on you going on your fifth “cmon sweets just this time think your gonna cum for me hmm? do it for your hannie can you?” he fake pouted kissing your earlobe while whispering that.

grabbing your thighs and pushing them forwards making you & throwing your legs on his shoulder so he can get deeper into you.

“s-shit gonna fuckin cum with you is that what you want hm?” he sped up while you were dangerously close to orgasming once again.

then finally came gushing out of you trembling from the orgasm you just had. he pulled out and came all over you tummy.

jeonghan then went up to the bathroom & ran a warm bath for you, coming to pick you up then both you and him bathed together.

“m’sorry i was to rough on you angel.” he spoke “nonsense hannie it was the best first time in my life!” you slapped his chest lightly then kissed his cheeks “might as well send you pics always” giggling you said “try it one more time & I’ll be meaner on you” “you’ll be mean but you love me more” you layed your head in his shoulder “i really do love you” he smiled.

! 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ thank you for reading >ᴗ< !! i hope this is to your like anon !! thank you for requesting!

#seventeen smut #seventeen x reader #seventeen scenarios #jeonghan smut #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan x you #jeonghan scenarios #jeonghan imagines #seventeen fluff

572 notes · View notes

pinkcarnatixns · 6 months

Text

leah williamson | hands down

synopsis your girlfriend (barely) faces the consequences for her irritating behavior [1.5K] contents bf! leah, slightly suggestive

You were unbelievably pissed.

Banging open the door to your shared apartment, you make a beeline for the couch and throw your weight into it with a huff. Making a show of being occupied with clicking through channels, you stubbornly keep your eye on the screen when the sound of your girlfriend’s sock-clad feet pad into the room.

“Baby,” she whined. Sparing her a glance, you only narrowed your eyes further at her standing form, complete with a pout and carrying both of your heavy training bags. At the resolute silence she receives and losing your gaze to the TV, she makes a statement of letting them both thud to the floor and stomping over.

“You cannot be serious!” She argues as she’s met with a socked foot to the abdomen when making a move to sit next to you.

As she’s standing over you, you make an effort for an even steelier gaze as the beginnings of a smirk tease her lips. Slowly, she leans more and more weight onto your leg which, shaky from training- quickly crumbles under the pressure. “Get off Leah! You are stinky and annoying!” The small victory she gets from crashing onto you is quickly replaced by shock as she tumbles to the floor at your retaliation.

“You can kick me all you want but do not call me Leah!” She scoffs, clutching her chest and looking up at you with her all-too-familiar furrowed brow. “Why not Williamson? It is your name, isn’t it?” You smack away the ghost of her hand on your thigh and roll your eyes.

“Stop that! You only call me that when you’re angry!” She groans as she stands to her feet, matching your crossed arms, “And I haven’t done anything!”

“Oh really! Then it must have been my other completely irritating girlfriend who insists on poking and prodding me like a teenage boy all day long!” You punctuate your words by standing and digging your pointer finger into her sternum.

In an attempt to quell your frustration, her hands find a familiar place on your hips in the small space between your bodies. You avert your gaze to avoid crumbling at the act of affection accompanied by the heady smell of her perfume, your crossed arms still your only line of defense. Her head tilts softly as she gazes down at you, “Is it such a crime to be obsessed with my lovely, gorgeous, talented girlfriend?”

Heat rises to your cheeks, shy under her complete attention and frustrated at the way she can still make you blush easily after all these years. At the small break in your angry facade, she takes the opportunity to let her hands wander lower, unfortunately jogging your memory to what had instigated your fury in the first place. “It absolutely is when you feel the need to smack my butt in front of all our teammates like a horny boy while they laugh on like your own little fraternity! Honestly!” Shoving at her chest, you stalk over to your shared bedroom.

Following at a much slower pace and with her head down like a scolded child, she watches on quietly as you rip through the drawers for a change of clothes, grabbing a towel so hard you nearly send the whole stack tumbling. Realizing where this is going, she starts pleading, “Honey, I’m so sorry, they were really egging me on! I swear Katie-”

She stops talking and tailing you as she nearly collides with your back, mustering up her most pitiful puppy eyes as you set your things on the counter. Whipping around to face her, you stand in the threshold of the bathroom, gripping the door with white knuckles. “I’m taking a shower! Alone!” The door is then promptly shut in her face and she hears the lock’s definite click ringing in her ears.

She pouts at the hardwood in self-pity before deciding there was much groveling that needed to be done and she should try to get a head start while you cooled off.

After taking your time in the shower, you did feel much more relaxed- enough that you reached for one of Leah’s sweaters when leaving the warm steam of the bathroom. Treading back into the living room, you were surprised at her absence on the couch, your girlfriend normally one for lazing around after training.

You’re suspicious at the small glimpse of her in the kitchen, striding over to you with a sheepish smile, steaming plate in each hand. She had clearly taken the time to shower in the guest room, clad in a hoodie that you remembered complimenting at some point, accompanied by some oversized basketball shorts. Her hair was haphazardly tied up, and you found your frown dissolving at the sight of her bangs sticking out, never quite cooperating much to your girlfriend’s chagrin.

“‘M sorry, I know it’s not much but it’s all I can make without burning our kitchen down.” She awkwardly chuckles, avoiding your eyes slightly in shame. You sigh, irritation gone from your body, and reach for one of the plates of spaghetti when she yanks it back towards herself. She lights up completely at your small acceptance of her peace offering and smirks. “No! Nothing but the princess treatment tonight, my love!”

Navigating around you towards the couch with a new pep in her step, you stand stunned at her sudden change in attitude. You watch on as she carefully sets the plates down on the coffee table next to wine glasses that you hadn’t noticed before, happily plopping into her normal spot.

She had clearly prepared this to some extent, as she drags your favorite blanket half over herself, hovering the rest next to her as an invitation. She shoots you with her familiar pleading gaze, shaking your side of the blanket for emphasis. You were never destined to hold out for long, treading over with a roll of your eyes. As you sit down next to her, she shoots you a thousand-kilowatt smile, leaning over you and tucking the blanket under your thigh, clearly a ruse to have you scooch closer to her- her body heat now seeping into yours.

“You get to pick the entertainment for tonight, no complaints, I swear!” She passes you the remote, and lets her arm fall around your shoulders, gazing at you with a smug grin on her face. Leah always claimed to hate your ‘cheesy’ movies, forever trying to distract you from them with affection. “I should pick a movie I know you hate after that earlier stunt.” You mumble, but she recognizes the teasing lilt to your voice.

“I’m sorry honey. You really just looked too good today! It should be illegal to be that pretty after running around in the dirt all day, seriously!” You blush at her words, leaning over to place a small peck on her lips to shut her up and because you really could not keep up this facade much longer.

She lights up even further, smile bursting at the seams as she eagerly reaches over to place your plate in your lap. At your fork in her hand and her refusal to hand it to you, you quickly catch on to what she’s trying to do. “Leah. Please do not.”

She sinks a little at your words, and groans. “Call me anything but Leah, I’m literally begging.”

You giggle at her dramatics. “Fine baby, please do not embarrass me in my own home, I’m capable of feeding myself.”

Completely ignoring your words, she makes a point of twisting around some noodles into a little bite and holding it up to your mouth. At your glare, she just smiles harder and moves it closer to your mouth. Knowing she wouldn’t drop it, you open your mouth and allow her to feed you. As you chew, she stares pensively, “How is it?”

It’s entirely too salty, forever being the girl’s favorite ‘seasoning,’ but you get it down and send her a thumbs up anyway- accompanied with a small smile. She’s ecstatic at your praise and peppers your face with kisses before you push her away lightly, giggling with your mouth still a bit full.

“Now that’s settled! Finish your five star meal and then I deserve a much-needed cuddle session for all my hard work!” She grabs her own bowl and starts scarfing it down. You chuckle to yourself at her newfound enthusiasm, satisfied at the fact that she still glues one hand to your thigh while eating with the other.

As your plates are almost clean, you break the comfortable silence with a final warning. “Do not do that again baby. You are the vice captain of a professional team and a grown woman, not a twelve year old boy. And Katie’s still in big trouble for egging you on.”

She sets both of your finished bowls back on the table, dragging your legs over hers which leaves you half on her lap. Meeting your pouty gaze, she breaks out in a shit-eating grin. “But baby, you’re so hot when you’re mad at me.”

You hope that the neighbors don’t complain at the resounding yelp she lets out as your hand slaps her bare thigh with all the strength you can muster.

#leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #woso x reader #woso community #leah williamson fluff #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso one shot

971 notes · View notes

hollyhomburg · 5 months

Text

Before I Leave You (Pt.69)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: The pack meet with moonbyul to discuss terms.

Tags: Violence, Angst with the happy ending on the horizon, fluff if you squint, Yoongi gets really really angry and kinda triggers the m/c, allusions to past abuse, Blood, manipulative behavior, murderous tendencies, trans! tae, Transphobia, Trans! moonbyul,

W/c: 11.5k

A/n: wow something went heavily wrong with the formatting while i was editing this! if you notice any extra lines or weird breaks (especially on mobile) i tried my best! not sure what went wrong but i might just have to physically re-type this chapter again.

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

I’ll let you in on a little secret:

In every other version of this story, Hobi doesn’t get to the door in time.

In every other version, the doors would close and Hoseok would hit them with his fists and yell. Screaming himself bloody and hoarse in the futility of it all. Watching as his future with you melts away at his fingertips like ocean foam, slipping away into the sea like a piece of clear sea glass, disappearing into the deep. They’d miss you at the next station and the one after that too.

In every other version of reality, in every parallel universe, he's too late to save you.

But in this one, he gets his pinky finger between the doors just before they slam shut.

The safety feature that keeps the train from closing on any late passengers shoots open with a hiss of compressed air. It's only open for a split second but Hoseok shoves himself through the 8-inch gap and into the warm interior of the train. Jungkook is left on the other side, banging on the door, running to keep up with the car as it thuds and lurches and starts to speed up.

"Next station" Jungkook’s mouth forms the words but Hoseok doesn't hear him say it over the roar of the train. There’s only a few seconds of them staring at each other. Jungkook’s messy hair flops as he runs. The wetness on his cheeks from frustrated tears glistening in the yellow sunlight before Jungkook runs out of the platform and is left standing there at the edge. Hoseok hurdles on.

Hoseok’s blood is roaring in his ears. He puts his hands on his knees and pants. The thudding momentum of the train makes Hoseok fall over, either that or it's from lack of oxygen. One second he's looking at JK and then next he's sprawled on the dirty linoleum floor before he pulls himself upright.

His throat feels like it’s still swelling a little. He puts his hands there, trying to steady himself. Black spots dance in his vision and he catches himself for a second time on the metal rail as the train rolls and jostles.

When he coughs, there’s dark blood in the palm of his hands. Hoseok wipes it on his pajama pants and starts looking.

He knows he must look like something horrific because an old woman in the first priority row looks at him with a crinkle of concern twisting her face. “Are you alright son?” She asks, voice squeaky.

“Yeah, just a rough morning” he grabs the back of her seat as he sways, steading himself for just a second before he uses the headrest of the seat to pull himself back down the train.

Hobi combs through the train cars slowly, betting that you'll be close to the end. He takes the longer route first, better to go down to the end and work his way back up in case you're in the first three cars, just in case you decide to get off at the next station.

He searches and searches until the fear starts to take hold in his stomach, nausea or maybe it’s just motion sickness.

He draws a bit of attention as he moves. Mostly from adults, the little unpresented pups that jump back and forth between the seats without a care in the world don’t find the bruises on his neck anything out of the ordinary. But an omega pulls his pups into his lap at Hoseok's approach. Hoseok is too sick with worry to pay them any mind.

But Hoseok doesn't need to worry, because he finds you on the fifth train car.

The blue sticky vinyl seats are full of all sorts of people; A stuffy alpha in a suit and a pair of bright yellow headphones. A small elderly omega woman with a big bushel of frizzy hair and about 10 tote bags to her name muddles through her morning commute. Two freshly presented teenagers with patched-up jackets, punky and honest in their aesthetic.

But there- at the end of the car where the booth seats facing each other turn into single rows all facing the same direction. Folded into the window a figure in dark clothes hunched over trying to look as small as possible. Trying to disappear.

Trying to hide.

Anyone would be able to scent the clear and clary smell of distress and loneliness on the air. It’s the same scent that soaks Namjoon’s hospital- noxious and pungent. It hits Hoseok with such a visceral wave that he almost falls over again.

You’re wearing his sweatshirt and Yoongi’s jacket. The hood drawn up over your head to hide your sob blotchy face from the strangers. Sniffling as you look out the window. He sees you wipe your eyes. You don't look up at all. You don't even notice Hobi approaching until he's slipping into the seat next to you and sliding his hand to lace through yours. His knuckle, your knuckle, then his.

You startle. Predictably- your fear response has always been a little bit over the top. You flinch, whirling, starting when you see it’s him. Jerking your hand out of his on instinct and nearly backing yourself into the window. Getting yourself as far away from him on the narrow seat as possible.

He wants to yell at you, he wants to shout at how stupid you are for leaving something good. (Don’t you know how rare good is for people like us? Don’t you want to hold onto it?) All of the shit with his ex- with Moonbyul seems impossible- but you sacrificing yourself for others is not hard for Hobi to believe. That part of this is so painfully logical and so painfully you that if Hobi were less scared right now he might start crying.

You've always thought you were less valuable, less necessary, less loved by the pack. The last one in is the first one out. Hoseok knows you think this because he used to think that way too.

He wants to yell at you but instead his voice comes out soft, the way that the others used to talk to you back when you didn’t speak. Like he's comforting a startled animal. You are a startled animal.

"You used the train ticket" He swallows. It stings. Hurts like a bitch really. Every time he speaks it hurts. "I never thought you'd use it."

Hoseok puts his hand on the seat in front of you blocking you as you try and get up and out of your seat. Moving automatically to get away- to get safe. That might be all that you know how to do- keep yourself safe.

You stand there for a second, in stalemate. Blood drains from your face, and you stare each other down as Hoseok goes from devastated to angry and then sad again. Struggling not to cry. Hoseok doesn’t like to cry- it’s too much like begging. His body asking for what he can’t.

It’s quiet, you have to be quiet here. There aren’t too many people but a few rows in front of you is a pair of alpha's in suits with briefcases. Unseemly eyes could be hidden everywhere so you need to be quiet. Hoseok's voice is quiet anyway. He still can’t speak much above a whisper.

No quicker have you startled than you start to push at him, at his shoulders. Literally trying to push him out of the chair. Shaking your head. "You can't be here Hobi you have to go, they'll kill you-" You start to pull him up to his feet but he makes himself a lead weight.

“No- no I’m not going to let you go.” Hoseok cups your cheek, long fingers rubbing your tears away. The pads of his fingers cradling your cheek. Soft skin, your cheeks have always been so soft. Hobi’s brain gets caught on the sensation.

"This is how this is going to work; we're going to get off at the train station- and then with any luck- Yoongi and Jimin and Jungkook will already be there and we're going to go home, okay?" He tilts his face, trying to get a better look under your hood, lower lip wobbling, voice breaking, “You have to come home with me, okay?”

You’re trembling so hard that Hobi can feel it as he holds your face, shaking your head stubbornly.

"Hobi, if I don't go. Jimin’s going to die, you're going to die, Jin’s going to die. I can't not do something. Don't pretend one life outweighs three."

"I can't let you go."

You lean into his hand. Has Hoseok ever cupped your cheek before or is the first time he's touched you this way? He can't remember. There are so many firsts that he can't remember. So many firsts that haven't happened yet. Slipping through his fingers like water.

"And I can't let you die."

Hoseok holds your cheeks, thumbs skimming up and down your cheekbones, a little more hollow than usual. These last few days have stretched all of you thin and honest. The truth does not feed you, like subsiding off of air. This truth is not one that he wants to share but-

Yoongi had looked a little shocked when he’d told him, that kind of shock that sort of feels vindicating- like you matter. Hoseok doesn't understand why Moonbyul being his ex matters. But Yoongi's reaction makes him think it is.

The light fills the train car honey golden slipping away to the clean brightness of a winter day. The light flashing through the trees like some sort of strobe light, flickering across both of you here- at the back of the train where there is no one to overhear.

Hoseok pulls himself closer to you, his lips brushing your ear. "I never told you- the name of my old pack omega but I think you know her.”

The train hisses and shrieks and your hand settles over Hoseok’s bruised wrist.

“I think you know her very very well because Yoongi said you do."

Hoseok pulls you flush against him, across the seat, your foot hitting his ankle, and whispers it into your ear.

"Her name was Moon Byul-yi."

You freeze in his hold, trembling, and he pulls away to watch the visceral realization dawn on your face. You're smart. The Moonbyul he knew would have never thought to anticipate that either of you was smart. Haughty and superior to the last inch. She’d have assumed that she had the upper hand like all narcissists do. Why would prey know anything about the hunt?

You panic, your conviction is slipping away, Hoseok can see you’re struggling to hold onto it. “Hoseok- you don’t understand, I have to do this, I need to.”

He takes your hand in his. “Okay- if you want to go then I’m coming with you.”

“Hoseok.”

He shakes his head and brings the back of your hand up to his mouth to run his lips along your knuckles. Gripping it tight. Your bones and his bones all aligned, the sunburn on the back of his hands that’s always sort of there from driving and the faint scars that line your hands from cooking. Both self-inflicted and accidental.

(Love is that way too, either something that you seek out or something that happens to you. You are the best thing that’s ever happened to Hoseok, you could never be the worst).

There is one scar at the bottom of your hand and the bottom of his; a line across his right palm and a line across your left one- both gotten the night that you tried to take the train. You didn’t take the train then but you’ve taken it now.

You’ve made your choice and Hoseok makes his. “Either together or not at all.”

Hoseok rationalizes it by thinking- If you were going back to Geumjae and if he was still alive, you’d never let him walk into his clutches. You would never let Geumjae lay a hand on him, so he won’t let you go to her. Will do everything in his power to get you off of this fucking train.

“I’m sorry, Hobi- I’m-”

He pulls himself closer to you. Lips touching your temple just like the sunlight. Your warm thigh pressed to his warm thigh.

“You have nothing to apologize for. Nothing to make up for. If we want to survive this then we need to do it together.” Hoseok presses a kiss to your hairline and lets it linger there. “I won't haunt you if you won't haunt me."

“You don’t understand-“

“Why? Why do you have to be the one? If you can answer me that honestly and in a way that makes sense, then I’ll let you go.” Hoseok says the words as he drags his nose across your hairline in a small scent mark. A growl rolling in his throat. His hand itching towards the back of your neck- if he were able to scruff you- he could drag you off this train with or without your say-so.

Hoseok won't do that to you unless it's absolutely necessary. He won't scruff you maliciously but honestly, he'd damn the consequences at this point. You know the risks, and yet you let his hand settle on the back of your neck. He doesn't scruff you yet.

You are on the train now, but you could get off of it. Hoseok managed to convince you once he can convince you again. You do not respond to him, but he doesn’t need you to. He continues on word vomiting out his feelings. Drenched half in panic and half in fear that if he stops talking you’ll tell him something heartbreaking. Hoseok can’t handle any more heartbreak today.

"I know you’ve been in a lot of pain. I’ve known it since the first day I met you. But this self-sabotage- sacrificing yourself because you think your life isn't worth risking the rest of ours- this isn’t the way to do it. This isn’t the way that you get out.”

This is the question that you’ve been asking the whole time he’s known you. All of this is just trying to get out of the holes that you dig for yourself. The graves that you haunt. Graves of things that might have been and the things that should or shouldn’t have happened to you.

Your voice is so small and quiet, your palm in his tightens just a little bit. “How do I? How do I get out?”

"You can start by just getting off this fucking train."

You eye him like you think it’s impossible like it can’t possibly be that easy.

The announcer overhead is telling you you’re almost to the next stop. To mind the gap and such. The same way people mind children and precious objects. Mind the gap. Such a strange turn of phrase. How do you treasure the space between one motion ending and the other beginning? The end of one place and time and the beginning of another.

“How do I do it? How do I-”

Hoseok laces his hand with yours again and pulls you up onto your feet. The train is slowing. “I’ll show you just- follow me. I’ve got you.”

I’ve got you.

You do follow Hobi, you follow Hobi off the train as he coxes you softly onto the platform and onto the frosty tracks. It’s mid morning by now and the sun is streaming in that bright yellow way when he tugs you up the stairs slow. Slow because he still has to. His body aches from yesterday. Both of you are bruised and tired but together. Clinging to each other- his hand and your hand and not a breath of space between.

In the parking lot, there is a red car double parked across the lines closest to the stairs. Jimin and Yoongi and Jungkook are already standing outside, the doors blown open. Jimin falls into a squat the second he sees you. Head in his hands. Running through his hair and tugging. A cigarette discarded on the concrete bouncing before it rolls to a stop and burns.

“Oh thank fucking god, Tae would have fucking killed me-”

Jungkook groans and rests his head on the hood of the car, hitting it with an open-palmed slap. It echoes in the empty parking lot.

"That sentence is substantially less funny today than it would have been yesterday.”

Yoongi is just staring at you fists and shoulders tight. You watch him swell the closer that you walk. Every step made in trepidation. He's breathing heavy, eyes wild with panic and anger and his hair stands on end. His eyes are bloodshot and his scent is almost acidly salty. The kind of salt that guides metal to rust and break. The salt that melts cities. That crunches under your feet next to dark puddles from snowmelt.

When you're 3 paces away he seems to break, stalking up to you and jabbing a finger in your face. “If you ever pull a stunt like that again I swear I’ll-” Yoongi breaks himself off. Shaking so viscerally that it's hard for you to keep your hands by your side. but you stand your ground as Hoseok swats yoongi's jabbed finger away. his other hand tightly laced with yours.

“Yoongi, let’s just get into the car and go home- please. Let's not talk about this here.” The parking lot is mostly empty, but the danger still lingers. There’s too much to talk about. Moonbyul's name rings in Hoseok's ears like the subtle hum of hearing loss, like a high-pitched shriek. There are things more important than Yoongi's anger.

But Yoongi’s not done with you- oh- he’s boiling with rage. Shaking with it as he opens the door for you, every action, every little moment restrained. His anger is palpable. You get into the back of the Lamborghini and Hobi follows.

You can tell he wants to slam the door but doesn't. He shuts it extra extra soft but you flinch anyway. He gets into the driver's seat every moment controlled but tense, like he'll explode if he moves with any more energy than necessary, a firework with a fuse burned all the way down just begging for heat.

Yoongi waits for everyone to buckle their seat belt but you don’t, frozen watching him in the window and then the rearview mirror when he gets into the front seat. Yoongi doesn’t even get around to starting the car. Sliding the key home but the beep goes once, twice, and then a third time because you don't have your seatbelt buckled. The others wait in silence.

“Yoongi-“

“Fuck!” He kicks open his door again with a stream of spat explicatives. Slamming it shut this time. The others don't say anything, completely silent in the face of his anger.

Yoongi doesn't get angry. You've never seen him like this before. He wrenches your door open and for a horrible moment, you think he's going to yank you out of the car and tell you to get lost.

Yoongi's murmuring things to himself, so low that you almost can't make out what he's saying as he pushes himself into the backseat. The backseat of the Lambo isn’t that large. Hardly big enough to fit two people let alone four.

Jungkook lets out a belated “Hey!” at being squished up against the door but Hoseok just reaches around him and unlocks it for him to get out. Jimin is already out of the passenger seat and heading in the direction of the driver's side as Yoongi scrambles with your seat belt, jerking it over your shoulder and slamming it home.

"-Fucking asshole- of all the stupid omegas in the world I had to be mated to the fucking- dumbest- little- fucking-" The belt digs into your shoulder extra tight and Jimin starts the car wordlessly.

You're closed in on both sides by him and Hobi on the other. They switch and shuffle. Jimin pulls away from the train station, gentler this time but still faster and with more finesse than you'd do it. Yoongi is still looking at you, glaring, tears in his eyes with wet cheeks, his voice low and uncompromising.

“Give me your phone.”

“My what?”

“Your. Phone. You used it to call her didn’t you?” You nod after a second, slowly pulling it from your sweatshirt pocket and handing it over.

Yoongi takes your phone and breaks it over his thigh.

It’s a bit impressive really- the show of strength. He brings it down once and the screen breaks, winking out like a shooting star. Another and it bends just a little, a third time- and it's practically at a right angle. It breaks so easily in the face of adrenaline and anger and fear.

You make a small noise, not a whimper but a descending sound. Yoongi raises his eyebrows at you, wild. Like he’ll break even further if you complain. Hoseok’s not sure he’s ever seen Yoongi this broken.

"Just- There were pictures of Noodle and Tae on there.”

Fear and anger are an intoxicating mix to anyone- let alone someone who almost lost their person. He goes at your phone until its jagged edge bites into his hand drawing blood. Then he tosses both pieces of your phone onto the floor of the car like they're paperweights.

One of the pieces hits your shoe with a small metal clink, and even Hobi looks down in surprise at the sound.

Yoongi laughs and then bends over. Yanking the gun out of your boot. Small, shoved there. Hoseok didn’t notice. He's not sure why it surprises him- that you'd be armed. You're not an idiot, you know the risks, and you were armed the last time that you tried to run away.

He holds it out to you, long fingers wrapped around the barrel pointed at his chest. The handle facing you, the barrel of the gun level with his heart.

“You want to do the honors sweetheart?"

Jungkook’s worrying away at his lower lip, turning around, nervous. “Yoongi-" but Yoongi just holds a finger out, cutting him off. He's watching you, waiting to see what you'll do.

Jimin very gently reaches back and takes the gun from Yoongi. The beta lets him. Jimin flicks the safety off with a twitch of his thumb. And takes out the magazine one-handed that he hands to Jungkook before he puts the body of the gun barrel down in the cup holder where it rattles freely.

“Don’t fucking do that. we do not point guns at ourselves or each other in this pack.”

Yoongi hardly looks mad, he hardly reacts to Jimin at all. Jungkook's eyes flicker nervously from Jimin to Yoongi, then to Jimin's shoulder.

Jimin's flush sits on the top of his cheekbones, "Jin-hyung gets a pass obviously."

You quirk an eyebrow at your mate, not impressed in the slightest, not even intimidated truly. Hoseok doesn’t think you’ve fought since you tried to leave the first time.

“You didn’t really expect me to go unarmed, did you? Thought I could at least take one of them out- at least Moonbyul before they-” Jimin breathes hard through his teeth and Hoseok actually laughs, although he sounds a little unhinged. Yoongi runs his hands through his hair, pulling a little.

“I didn’t expect you to fucking leave me either but here we fucking are.” Yoongi has never raised his voice with you- he never raises his voice period. But anger and terror have made his words sloppy where usually they strike exact.

In the mirror, you see Jungkook’s jaw clench as Jimin accelerates home a little faster. Yoongi crowds you against Hoseok. Resting his forehead against yours, you can hear the grit in his teeth as he grinds them together nearly spitting, but it’s quiet.

“If you try something like that again, you will see a side of me that I do not want to show you. Do you understand?”

That makes you unnerved, and makes your lower lip start to tremble. Your “Yes.” Comes out so quiet that Hoseok is sure Jimin and Jungkook can't hear it in the front seat over the Lambo's purr.

You’re unable to meet his eyes, Yoongi has never been rough with you, but he’s shaking with the effort to hold himself back from screaming, yelling, crying. There are no words for you, no words that he could ever say that might hold you. He is so angry he can’t even fucking speak.

For a terrible moment, you think that he's going to hit the seat in front of you. But then he tucks your hair behind your ear out of your face so that he can look at you properly.

This is Yoongi's karma for leaving the pack all those months ago. He's come to know their pain so keenly, this was only a few hours of what they endured but still- this is exactly like that.

“You know- I’ve never wondered if you need me, but sometimes I wonder if you love me at all.”

His hand slides down your cheek, gentle in the way that he goes, and it hurts so much more than a slap or punch ever would. It stings. Everywhere Yoongi touches you stings.

“I know you don’t love me the way that I love you- I’m not that dumb, but-"

Your face screws into a whimper, and you can't whisper out that you're sorry quick enough. Yoongi guides your forehead back to rest against his. Still angry, still spitting the words like they take something from him. You should deny what he says and you want to, but you’re mute in the face of your mate's anger. "How many hours do you think will exist between your death and mine?” You’re silent as Jimin drives, but his eyes meet yours in the rearview mirror. You don’t see any pity in his eyes maybe because Yoongi, like you, had nearly left them broken. Had actually left and stayed gone. Yoongi will never quite deserve pity for words like those. Yoongi directs your face away from Jimin and back to his.

“How many god damn it!” He grips your cheeks, gentle, fingers that touch so softly, that cradle you, shaking all the while.

“Five? Ten? Sweetheart- I'd last 5 minutes without you and you won't even look at me long enough to apologize and you don't make it easy- I don't-

"Yoongi. That is enough."

Jimin is steely. Cutting him off before Yoongi can say something that he regrets and that he doesn't mean. But Yoongi won’t continue anyway. He's crying so hard he can’t see your face, can’t even see the way that you crumple.

He rests his forehead on your shoulder for the remainder of the drive. Pushing away your hands every time you try and wrap them around him until you’re crying with how frustrated you are. Keeping that one point of contact only, his crumpled face pressed against your mating mark.

He doesn’t want your touch- the touch of someone who hurt him. This is the first time that Yoongi has denied you something so simple, something so habitual as your arms around his shoulders.

Your pleas fall on deaf ears, your words come too late. "I'm sorry, i'm so sorry Yoongi I didn't mean- please believe me- I didn't- Please i'm so sorry-"

It’s a pity isn’t it; someone always has to love the other more. This is the oldest story, and there is no other story. Karma comes just in time or not at all. But right now? Right now it does not feel nice being Yoongi’s karma for leaving the pack all those months ago.

The car ride is mostly silent for the rest of the drive. The car has barely stopped when Yoongi scrambles to get out. The car door flings open with the momentum of Jimin stopping. The hood is hot when he skims his fingers across it steadying himself to round it and dash inside.

Your hands shake too hard to unbuckle yourself as Yoongi hurries, he almost runs. Hoseok gets out of the car, shouting "Yoongi!" but your mate doesn't turn around, doesn't do anything but barrel past the others. Pushing away their worried questions and hands to get inside the house.

The bindings on your hands are already bleeding a little bit, your hands chubby and swollen, and unable to see the seat buckle as you claw at it.

A warm chest hits the side of your face as strong arms reach around you. Jungkook unbuckles you, close and filling the backseat in Yoongi's absence. He holds you for a second, giving you a squeeze and a sideways hug. "Just give him a second it’s gonna be alright."

You stare at Jungkook for a second. Wiping your tears away with a curled fist. He looks tired. “I mean you’re literally his mate so- it's not like he can really...” Jungkook trails off, and the keys jingle in Jimin's hands as he waits. mute and unreadable, staring at the steps where tae stands with Jin and Namjoon.

"Aren't you guys going to yell at me too?" Jungkook snorts, and when you pull back to look at his face, he doesn't look angry, he doesn't even look tired.

"That wouldn't solve anything." Your face crumples further, but Jungkook just starts to pull you to the edge of the leather seat to hug you better under the guise of firmly setting you on your feet.

"What I am gonna do is make you go work out with me. I'm gonna make you do like- so many burpees in punishment for making me run that early in the morning."

You laugh wetly and Jungkook giggles, nuzzling the top of your head. Gripping around your waist to pick you up just a little.

Jin looks just as puffed up as Yoongi but so much less angry, wrapped in your big blue blanket like a cape, a corner pulled over his head and ears like a hood, his fluffy bunny slippers poking out below.

The wooden planks of the deck have dried in the winter sunlight and Tae is barefoot where she stands, silk robe too thin for the winter chill. looking at you with that same hollow look she’s had for the last day.

Jin doesn’t try to grab Yoongi as he stalks past. Namjoon sends a conflicted glance at him and then at you. His shoulders are pinned up by his ears, the scraggly five o'clock shadow he wears looks tear tacky. He looks at you for a single second but then heads into the house after your mate. You blanch, but you're not surprised that Namjoon needs a second before he talks to you too.

The pervasive sound of wrenching can be heard echoing out into the porch, and a look inside says that Namjoon’s got a hand on Yoongi's back where he's bent over the sink. Throwing up nothing because your mate had hardly eaten last night- worried about you and Hobi. You've never felt more undeserving of him, the guilt hits you harder than any words ever could.

You swallow at the bottom of the steps. Hoseok and Jungkook and Jimin behind you, hand on the small of your back urging you forward gently. Willing to let you stray more than a few steps away after chasing you down.

Jin is extra tall and on the upper step, looking down at you with an unreadable expression on his face, he places a hand over the back of your neck scruffing you smoothly and evenly until you almost fall, knees already shaky. Jungkook steps up and grabs you before you hit the floor. But Jin just stoops. Lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“When this is over, when everyone is safe, we’re going to have a long long talk about this. About why pups don’t make decisions on their own. Give me your phone.”

You can hear Jimin’s grimace in his voice, “Yoongi already broke it.”

“Are you angry with me?” You ask lower lip wobbling, tears drifting down your nose, “Please don’t be angry with me- please-” Jin squeezes the nape of your neck again, harder. You see sparkles in your vision- your body compensating for Jin's touch even though you're so tired you feel like you might pass out. You easily submit to the scruff, you'll do anything Jin asks right now just to temper his disappointment.

Hoseok grabs under your elbows to keep you standing. Between him and Jin and Jungkook- you’re a soggy little bundle of omegas. You don’t see it, but from the railing, Tae cups Jimin’s cheek.

Jin croons. “Hush pup. Come inside where it's warm. We've got a lot to talk about- mostly what we can do besides make rash decisions like that."

Hoseok's hand is on Jin's wrist before he has a chance to continue. Eyes bright with something that looks an awful lot like hope.

"About that..." Hoseok gulps, “We think we figured out how to get out of this Jinnie. I have to talk to Yoongi about it again but-” Jin tugs Hoseok onto his other shoulder.

“I think we’ve figured a way out of this.”

You sniffle where you're tucked against Jin's chest, but you’re right next to his scent gland when it swells with pride, sweet and milky. Jin runs the back of his hand softly over Hoseok's warm cheeks, and croons.

“Good puppy.”

~-~

The next time you call Moonbyul, you’re all sitting around the dining room table. The blinds are drawn and Noodle has been fed. Jimin’s collection of guns lay on the table in several neat little rows, the barrels of them pointed in the same direction like the legs of some long-dead arachnid.

A list of demands and a dialogue are written out in front of you but they're not for you. Jin and Yoongi will be doing most of the talking. You've done nothing for the last hour it took to hatch the plan other than sit obediently at the reach of your alphas. Willing to trade little 'I'm sorries' and the barest attempt at teasing after you'd gotten up to get a glass of water and they'd all flinched. Jimin had even gotten up and out of his chair before shaking his head and sitting back down. instincts reacting to your movement before his brain caught up.

"Would it make you feel better if you put me in handcuffs?"

"Only if they're the fuzzy ones."

"Jk- now is not the time.”

All in all, Jungkook and Hobi seem to be the ones who are the least angry at you for trying to pull that stunt. Jimin's just a little more tactile with you than usual pulling you to sit close to him at the table. rubbing over your knee. Fiddling with your hands and gently avoiding the wounds there.

Namjoon still can't look at you, eyes flickering away every time you speak. Not angry- but maybe still upset- still working through his feelings.

There are more important things to work through; the plan, the facts of what you know, a list with numbers sit next to your dialogue. The facts of everything connected with arrows and different handwriting and a good bit of doodles- courtesy of Jungkook and Tae (and you- when she'd prodded).

Your list goes like this:

Moonbyul is not an alpha (verified by Hobi) (ew it's so gross to think of you with another omega hyung)

Only an alpha can rule the family. (That's a little sexist) (I didn't write the rules Tae)

LEVERAGE.

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ (JK- stop doodling on official FBI documents.)

Yoongi hasn't spoken a word to you since he came inside the house and you don't expect him to right now. That’s hardly the most important matter at hand. Baby steps.

Baby steps.

You call her with Jimin’s work burner. The one he keeps in his car and uses exclusively for instructions about which murder and which target needs to be taken out. Moonbyul answers on the first ring and guesses it’s you before you even have a chance to speak. The others had unanimously decided that you wouldn't be speaking for this conversation. You don't mind sitting back for this.

Whatever makes them happy, whatever makes them feel better.

Her voice strikes a chill down your spine, now that you know that she's the one who hurt Hobi. It's her he sees behind his eyes on his worst days and it's her voice he hears when his internal monologue becomes vicious and self-shaming. You hear it differently than you did before; a cross between a snake's hiss and the purr of some dark-furred jungle cat.

“Any much longer and you’re going to be late pup, you know how impatient I can be.”

It's surprisingly difficult to not give her a piece of your mind. Your hands tighten into fists, your bones and skin all tight where you'd hurt your hands. But before your knuckles can even go white a big hand covers yours, prying your fingers apart so that your fingernails don't dig into the gauze, still bloody. You look up at Namjoon. He shakes his head, just a little, and you relax your hands.

Yoongi leans over the table so that his voice comes across clearer over the speakerphone.

“I think you’ll want to be patient for this alpha- or should I say omega.”

Hoseok holds the edge of the table hard, leaning in too. He's sure the hitch of his breath must be audible over the phone. But Moonbyul doesn't remark on it. Jin’s hand remains settled on the nape of his neck and you wish you were sitting next to him too.

Yoongi scoots himself closer to the edge of the table. On the side opposite from you. “The claws of an alpha don’t suit you, cousin.”

Moonbyul laughs and none of you smile. The tone of her voice shifts, a bit more serious. “They fit me better than they'd fit you. Let me see how deep your bite is or should I ask Hoseok? Is that pup there? How about Minnie and mommy?”

Tae folds her hands over her chest, affronted, but doesn't speak either. Your hand goes hard on Namjoon's wrist and he grips yours back just as hard. Holding out his hand for Hobi's across the table.

You open your mouth to retaliate- for the comment on Tae alone (you're not sure how Moonbyul found out about your nickname for her) but Jimin mouths across the table, “Don’t” You're all silent, waiting for her next move.

Jin's FBI training kicks in. Negotiation and kidnappings had been a course he'd been required to take during his orientation to the fbi. and his voice is measured and polite.

"I think we're past the point of petty jabs and assassin's, aren't we? Let's talk, pack omega to pack omega."

“You want to parley then? Make a deal?”

Jin drums his hands across the table. Nervous but his voice doesn't shake, not even a little bit.

“This has gone on for long enough. Let’s meet.”

~-~ Moonbyul comes in with the quiet.

The hours drag on in the space before she arrives at the house. The pack perks up in the direction of every errant sound or neighbor in your cul-de-sac. The sound of the little kids across the street leaving for Saturday morning sports, of the dull scape of someone shoveling out their driveway, the rumbling of distant cars on the highway.

It’s a Sunday, isn’t it? Strange, that this kind of thing should happen on a Sunday. Jimin stares out at the driveway, leaning against the railing, and thinks it must be some sort of punishment both wretched and divine. He smokes his cigarette, spitting the smoke out like he's burning, and shakes off the shivers of a god he doesn't believe in.

He finishes his cigarette, then he and the others and ready the house for Moonbyul’s arrival.

Hobi feels every tick of the clock like the beat of his heart knowing that she’s on her way. She’d started driving after Jimin had shown her a video of his guns being thrown into the river. A meeting without any weapons will be as safe as anyone can get.

But still- the pack isn't stupid. Hobi watches from the kitchen as Jin tapes the pack’s sharpest and largest kitchen knife under the kitchen table in front of his seat as well as Jimin’s and Yoongi’s just in case.

Allowing her inside the den goes against every instinct. To have their softest most safe place violated by the presence of someone who has hurt them like this. It's almost too much. But to have the upper hand and have this meeting on their turf is more than they’ve hoped for. So Namjoon restrains his growls, hand still held in yours at the table. After a tangle of so many hours and days of all this violence, the pack takes their chances for a way out.

You'd discussed the meeting happening at the house before you'd even called and agreed. Talked it out between the eight of you the idea location for any meet up. Only Namjoon was against it- but he's been overruled by Jin and Yoongi.

You’d remained mostly silent and agreed with Yoongi when it came to a vote. Warm big eyes on him, waiting for a hint of approval that never came. Jimin thinks that wound is going to take more than simple obedience to heal.

Yoongi doesn’t know what to think, or what to do. Jin and Jimin take over most of the planning as far as what’s going to be said and how. Everything needs to be carefully orchestrated for this to not go poorly. Everyone needs to be on their best behavior.

But there is hope here, on the edge of their scheming is a plan that might work- this might really work. You all might get out of this unscathed. Even Yoongi who’s never taken a simple breath outside of this life of murder and secrets. Who has had this violence built into his blood from the moment he was born. Yoongi was born a liar. Yoongi always thought that he'd live and die belonging to his family- at the will of their beck and call.

Now he's not so sure.

He feels like he’s hyper-aware of you, in your orbit the way an addict is always aware of how little or lot is left of a drug. Every twitch and movement of your body sets him on edge. But when you’re not watching- Yoongi watches you. Tensing with every step you take in the direction of the door, heaving a thankful sigh whenever you pass by it.

He tries not to touch you but it’s hard. He’d taken your shoes and locked them in the closet upstairs, it's silly but it's necessary.

His pulse is still beating so fast that it scares him a little. The mating mark at his hip aches with every step, he wonders if yours aches with every word or breath. Pressed there against your throat where he'd kissed countless times, where he'd nuzzled sleeplessly just last night. Breathing in your scent because it soothed him.

It still soothes him, even if he doesn't want it to.

Yoongi spends every few minutes bent over the kitchen sink or the toilet, the revulsion curling up in his gut like a snake dragging its teeth down the sides of his heart. You’d left him again, actually left him again. Yoongi wants to scream and cry but-

But there are moments of you saying you’re sorry- to Tae, to Jimin, and Jungkook- who stubbornly wraps his arms around your back like a living blanket and makes you stoop forward with his weight. Or Jimin who rubs his chin across the top of your head and jostles you with the aggressiveness of his scent mark, catching your wrists in both of his hands roughly in a way that almost- almost has Yoongi intervening. He's just clumsy and tired.

All of you are.

There are other moments of Jin lingering close, speaking to you in the soft stern way that has you deflating that makes Yoongi’s body hum in that mate way- that way that lets him know you need him.

Namjoon hasn't changed the bandages on your hands yet, even though there's a tiny bit of blood on your right one. Yoongi wants to ask him to change it out but can't make his mouth form the words.

Hobi watches you from wear he rests against the couch, pointedly not sitting on the spot that Jin cleaned of blood. Holding a bit of ice to his throat and sipping on water. Able to talk now- for real. Voice strengthening with every minute.

Yoongi pauses by his side and asks, loud enough for you to overhear "aren't you angry?" Hoseok doesn't miss the way your shoulders tense. You’re looking over things and talking with Jin and Jimin, clarifying something- some rules about the family that only you and Yoongi know of. There are documents on the table with the title FBI property- do not reproduce or take off premises.

He tips his head back against the back of the couch, Hoseok’s legs sprawled out, aching from running so hard and so fast and being so out of practice with it. Fuck- Hoseok is so tired. So anxious and so keyed up by the knowledge that Moonbyul will be here within the next hour. He yawns in Yoongi’s face without covering his mouth. His stretched lips full of teeth teeth teeth.

Yoongi feels his anger quiet even before Hoseok shrugs. "i don't know if my anger would make it better. i care more about making sure we all get to wake up tomorrow without feeling like shit"

Jungkook echoes the same sentiment on his way past. “Same like- I cannot wait to nest” And Jimin nods, blonde hair fluffing. Even namjoon's subtle agreement as he does the dishes makes yoongi feel...Not better...but maybe a little less angry.

Namjoon does the dishes, but you're his close shadow. They could wait- but Namjoon needs something to do with his hands besides holding onto yours. You still haven’t talked at all, and haven't apologized verbally to him for that phone call. He wants a wide birth and you give it to him.

Survival first- and apologies and forgiveness later.

"I think motive counts for something too," Hoseok says, looking at you across the room helping Namjoon stack dishes without being asked. "You didn't mean to hurt us when you left, but you felt like you had to." Yoongi swallows hard and feels like he's the one who's been choked in the last 48 hours.

If there’s one thing Yoongi hates, it’s how love makes you forgive. (Yoongi wouldn’t be standing in this house right now with the pack if love wasn’t this way). You could hurt me and I’d ask for it, beg for it really, as long as I’m still yours. As long as you stay.

At the beginning, the fact that Yoongi loved you more always hurt the pack, Jin especially. But watching Yoongi’s eyes follow your movements as you're asked to do some small remedial task to appease the pack, watching you do it with so much sweet eagerness. the pack find that they're thankful for it.

You say you’re sorry to anyone who will listen. And Jungkook's endless replies of "it's okay" make Yoongi's ears itch in the interim.

The moments and minutes stretch out long.

But about an hour before Moonbyul is due to arrive, in the quiet panic of making sure things are ready and just waiting, Jin tries to convince you to go upstairs for the entirety of your meeting. But as much as the pack doesn't want to admit it you might be the best at getting what you want from Moonbyul. They're prepared for you to be a little bratty about it, to push back a little regardless of the circumstances.

What they're not prepared for is Hoseok standing up in the center of the room, setting his icepack on the couch with a small crunch, before he says “I want to see her again.”

It's met with an immediate rejection, and a barrage of questions from the other alpha's, Jimin and Namjoon especially have their hackles raised. Yoongi actually checks his ears to see if they're bleeding. Jin quite literally grabs Hobi and shakes him a little. But he’s convinced that he needs too. He’s got questions for her that no one else can answer.

You had been the one person who had agreed with him. Some questions can only be answered by the person who hurt you.

Moonbyul isn’t stupid- she won’t walk into your den without a few face cards in her hands. You won’t let her come here without a card up your sleeve either. But aces are aces- a royal flush will beat 4 aces every time, and it’s up to you who wears the crown.

You watch the pack put on the air of royalty. Watch Namjoon recline at the head of the table the picture of Pack alpha ease. Scent blockers are applied to all of you liberally out of necessity. You rub it into Hobi’s scent gland yourself (You won’t let Moonbyul get a wif of him).

You watch your mate settle into his shoulders; neck held high. Putting on the same Placid but brutal he'd worn the first time you'd met him. That untouchable coldness that all members of the family wear out of necessity.

But Yoongi had never been good enough at keeping the warmth out of his eyes. Even back then.

Moonbyul comes in a black car, non-descript. She's driving herself today. No extra ears or extra packmates attached to her hip. Even Hyejin is absent and it’s strange, strange to not see her get out of the car with her.

It sets you off kilter when you peer out the window. Lingering until Yoongi comes close. Your breath hitches as his hands touch your shoulders. Urging you upstairs without a word, an unspoken heaviness in his eyes.

Regardless of what you'd agreed, now that she's here. yoongi doesn't think he can do this if you're not upstairs safe.

“But Yoongi- Hobi-“ Hobi stands by the door. If he's going to talk to her you want to be by his side. But Yoongi's scared, you can see it in his face and feel it in the mating mark.

You think you'll have a few more moments to sort this out, but Moonbyul does not knock on your door, she just lets herself in.

“Cousin!” she starts, splaying her hands like she’s about to go in for a hug but Yoongi does not smile, Yoongi does nothing but glare at her until her smile and her hands both drop.

Seeing Moonbyul again after so long does not feel like just seeing her photograph. For a second Hoseok feels cold, so so cold looking at her face. Her fair skin, her silver hair. Tunnel vision and the most dizzying mix of fear and anger and alpha posturing that he’s ever felt. His instincts yell at him, screaming in his ear that he needs to run, needs to get away.

She smells different, metallic and medicinal, different than her sweet omega peppermint smell that he remembers. It's stronger now- more musky. the scent of an alpha and not an omega. Hoseok wouldn't be able to pinpoint that it was an artificial change if he hadn't smelled the same sort of hormone shift on Tae.

He’s distantly aware that there are people in between him and her, you, Yoongi, Jimin, Namjoon, and even Jungkook who fluffs up, looking determined and like he’s about to unleash all 5 years of experience he has teaching kickboxing on her. (Tae stays at the back of the room- the soft and delicate fairy star child that she is- but even she subtly stands straighter, eyeing Moonbyul’s stiff black coat with the same air that Anna Wintour might wear while viewing a subpar fashion show).

6 feet away and every bit of his instincts is yelling at him to move, to run. His heart thunders in his ears like a battalion of racehorses. How stupid of him to think he was ready- that seeing her face after all these years wouldn’t hurt- that the fear wouldn’t be there- his breath hitches and-

She grins at him and Hoseok flinches.

In his peripheries, he sees Namjoon and Jimin start to say or do something. Hoseok had put himself- almost perfunctorily in front of you. But after a second with your hand on his wrist tightening, you put yourself between him and her. Stepping around him and Yoongi in one clean movement and blocking his face from view. Moonbyul just raises her eyebrows at you. Before anything more can happen- before any jabs or warnings can be exchanged, a grey mass skitters across the floor. As quick as a bullet and twice as violent. Out for blood and the bringer of death.

Puffed up and looking large and menacing. Noodle yowls loud, a war cry, before driving his needle-like teeth into Moonbyul's ankle and right through the leather of her Louis Vuitton boots, ripping them with a vicious toss of his neck.

“What the fuck-“

Moonbyul startles, knocking into the wall in her surprise at your cat's viciousness. She hardly wastes a breath before she kicks Noodle clear across the floor.

You gasp and Tae makes a noise. But Noodle is totally fine, He goes hissing and spluttering, and claws his way right back for more not deterred in the slightest. He leaves gash marks on the shiny floor as he aims himself, back to bite her again.

You have no doubt that he’d be headed for bloodshed and her other ankle if Yoongi didn’t scoop him up from the floor and hold him to his chest. Honestly- Noodle looks more surprised at Yoongi holding him than he does about getting kicked.

“If you touch my fucking cat again, I’ll fucking kill you." Yoongi's deadly serious. No part of him joking as he says it.

It's barely 60 seconds in and this meeting is already going to shit.

Namjoon steps up and steps around Yoongi’s shoulder shoving the beta behind him as Noodle starts to squirm in Yoongi's hold. “Please, lets just get this over with.” He tips his head and gestures to the dining room table for her to sit.

Tae takes Noodle from Yoongi’s arms. Checking his stomach. Glaring at Moonbyul who does not grin, does not smile, only tucks an errant hair behind her ear.

The sound of chair legs scraping the floor is the only sound as the 9 of you sit in silence. Noodle stays in Tae’s lap, big tail swishing as his beady yellow eyes track Moonbyul across the room. Everyone’s silent, settling. Yoongi and Jimin are the ones seated closest to Moonbyul. You and Hobi are the farthest by Namjoon on the other side.

“Well- you’re the one who wanted to talk.” But Moonbyul is not looking at Jin and Namjoon and Yoongi- she’s looking at Hoseok- who can do little but look at her through his bangs. Skin burning when she looks at it. A feeling like Hoseok wants to hide and maybe shower until his skin falls off almost overcoming him and making him run.

“I didn’t want to talk, I wanted to get you fucking flayed out on this kitchen table and-”

“Jimin.” Tae cuts him off with a snap of her teeth around his name. Her hand is on Hobi’s thigh, holding him still keeping his thigh from jumping up and down under the table.

“The time for violence is over,” Jin says sternly.

Moonbyul grins, “is it?” she drags a sharp nail over a groove in the table. A spot where a bullet or maybe a knife grazed it, probably from the last few days. You wouldn’t know where it came from even if you thought hard about it.

“Some would consider the very act of possessing something that’s mine violence and you have two things that belong to me.”

Hoseok shivers, and you narrowly avoid snapping a smart retort at her. Jimin’s fingers hover around the knife under the table. Ready to wip it out and drive it clean through her hand splayed on the table. Ready to kill her in the next second if the pack wish it. He’s half convinced he should do it before she opens her mouth because Hoseok looks like he’s going to be sick all over the table and Tae is shaking faintly.

But then Jimin looks up, meets your eyes, and takes his eyes off of his target for a second. You shake your head a little imperceptibly.

“Some would also consider lying violence as well- how well do you think that the rest of your family and organization would handle the fact that they’ve been lied too?”

Yoongi settles, tilting his head. Jin and Yoongi are a dangerous pair when they talk through things like this. “We both know that all I’d have to do is pick up a phone and you’d be dead. You and your pack. If you kill me- someone will tell and you'll die. If you touch my pack again- I'll tell and you'll die. And if even think about taking my mate from me again- if i start to sense that you've tried to manipulate her away from me in the slightest- I'll kill you my fucking self."

She turns to you, mirth toying at her lips, "I got away with killing the beta once, what makes you think I can't do it again?"

Jin smiles at her, it's an honest and genuine smile. "The truth is- you gave us too much time to think. Too much time to figure it out and plan. There's a trigger clause out there. On a computer you couldn't possibly find. If I don't log in every 36 hours, an email will be sent with pictures of her recipe book to the director of the FBI, and you'll go down for it." Moonbyul turns to you, narrowing her eyes, "You'd risk going to prison or being killed? Rather than be with me?"

You shrug. "You- prison- tomato tamato. And besides- I know enough- you made sure I knew enough to be useful to them. I'd probably land a sweet gig in witness protection."

Tae pets over noodles head, smiling at you, "We could call Noodle meatball."

Yoongi straightens, getting you back on track. "We'd also send pictures and evidence to the heads of house too; you'd have to take your pick who you'd want to deal with- them or the Feds." Moonbyul goes quiet and for the first time but you know you have her backed into a corner with this. This secret- this secret is truly her undoing. She fidgets, settling herself firmly into the uncomfortable chair.

And then it comes, her concession, “What do you want?”

Yoongi nearly lunges forward with how eager he is to outline your terms. “Release Jimin from his contract. Let Y/n go and relinquish the bullshit claim you have on her. Don’t punish Jin for working for the FBI and never contact me again for my responsibilities as a beta. Leave us alone- never touch us again and you can have your empire. We won’t say a word to anyone about your true sub-gender.” He lays his hands flat on the table. "But lay a finger on any one of my packmates and I'll tell everyone what you really are."

Moonbyul is a manipulator first and foremost, and a good one at that, you don’t know if it’s honesty or a simple tactic when she turns to Tae and appeals to her.

“You’d let them do this for what? One female alpha to the other?” Moonbyul’s eyes are too empty for her to be totally honest. Jungkook can’t stop his flinch. She knows what she’s doing. How to find the weak spots in your conviction and press at them.

“One trans person to another? You'd let them forcefully out me? don't you know how wrong that is?”

You physically can’t look at her, you have to look away- and Jimin looks like he wants to punch her, jaw rolling- preparing to spit before Tae splays her hands on the table, chipped nail polish catching the light.

Tae struggles to find the right words. “I don’t know if your reasons are the same as mine.”

Moonbyul scoffs, crossing her arms. The mask slips at the same second. “Sure they are. You chose to become a woman rather than stay a man because you liked the set of qualities your life could have as a woman better. That's no different from me choosing to be an alpha over an omega because it gave my pack and me the most security.”

You know, you know in your heart that security isn't what Moonbyul's after, it's always been power, but Tae's scent starts to leak around the scent blockers, going sour.

Tae sits back in her chair. “That’s the thing- it wasn’t a choice.”

Moonbyul’s fingernails are digging into her arms in an effort to keep her hands busy. “Was it? You were comfortable being a man once until the risks outweighed the benefits of not being honest with the people you love. That seems like a choice to me- if it wasn’t a choice- you’d never have had to tell anyone- they’d just have known.”

Moonbyul has always had a terrible knack for finding people's soft spots, Hoseok knows this, and yet he can't say anything. Can't come to Tae's defense. Can't scream at her to shut up- to not touch Tae. To not find the weakest link or perhaps a link she can exploit.

Tae’s hands tighten into a fist and she swallows, before standing up from the table. Noodle falls to the floor with a jingle of his bell collar and an offended meow. Tae leaves the room heading up the stairs and leaves you behind. Done with Moonbyul and the conversation, A choice in itself. You follow her, heading upstairs after Tae with not even a glance in Moonbyul’s direction.

Moonbyul laughs and laughs and laughs, it’s a little unhinged. The pack stays silent. They just watch her. Yoongi settles into his shoulders and when she leans back in the chair and tucks her hair behind her ear, she’s still smiling.

“Alright cousin, let’s draw up terms.”

The family does things in old ways, a smear of Yoongi’s blood and Moonbyul’s blood on the bottom of a slip of paper and their names ink signed. A red seal printed with both of their initials. Paper that Jin will burn up later because what’s written on it could condemn them all. She also writes up a release of Jimin’s contract too- this one does not get burned. While Jin types up his resignation too.

“I’d still laser off your fingerprints if I were you.” Jimin is already planning on it. He’s not too worried about the loss of income or the family possibly rolling on him and using his long history of murder to put him in jail. He still has his other job after all.

In the end, Moonbyul leaves not with a bang, but with the click of the closing door, soft as all can be. Violent with the gentleness of her actions when she gets up from the table and says goodbye to Yoongi and only Yoongi. But when she makes to leave, she has to pass by the stairs where you wait.

You do not speak from up on top of the stairs, where you’d gone after Tae and left after she told you she was fine, that she wanted to be alone for a moment. Now Moonbyul smiles from the bottom step. Her teeth catch the light like the pearls at the bottom of the ocean.

“I guess it was never going to be us, was it?” Her eyes flick to the mark on your neck and all at once you’re reminded of the feeling of it;

Geumjae’s teeth sink into your throat, the pulse of your veins around his teeth, the feeling of his tongue hitting your skin and the pain and shock of it. Her smiling feels like that. Her smiling up at you makes it feel like she’s taking something from you.

“There is something in you that’s hungry pup- hungry for more than they can give you. And when they realize that- when they realize that you’re more like me than like Tae- Don’t worry, I’ll be waiting for when you decide that this is not enough.”

Your finger trails down the railing of the stairs. You don’t meet her eyes. “That’s the thing isn’t it, I do get to decide, don’t I? It's my choice.”

But Hoseok is there, between you and her, and there’s no one between the two of them. Not Noodle or the others although Yoongi gets up quick and comes over to his side. Both of you hem Hobi in.

“Wait- I just have one question for you- before you go.”

Moonbyul hovers, hand on the door. Almost out of your lives for good. You keep a hand on Hobi’s back, holding him, letting him know you’re there. You can feel the tremble in his shoulders.

“Why did you do it, why did you hurt me like that when you could have just left? I’ve thought through it for years but I’ve never been able to figure it out. Did you know that you were hurting me when you did it?”

“Yes,” there isn’t a bit of remorse in her face, none at all.

Maybe Hoseok is expecting something like this- something like this: “I thought if we broke you down, we might be able to remake you into something great”

“I didn’t need to be changed I just needed you to love me.”

But there is none of that. It’s infuriating and it will bother him for years later but what Hoseok gets is this:

“There wasn’t a reason, we were just bored and waiting for my father to give me the chance to transition.” transition into power or transition into an alpha? She doesn't clarify. She’s remorseless, nothing in her inflection indicates that she regrets what she did.

“You weren’t the first.”

Hoseok feels nauseous like he's going to be sick on the entryway floor. Hobi doesn’t respond and she leaves without a second glance behind her. Out of your lives for good. Leaving Hoseok standing there in the precipice of the door, watching her pull away from the house and staring at the empty driveway after she’s gone. He'll never see her again after today.

Namjoon gets up and opens up a window, clearing the house of her smell of peppermint.

He doesn’t realize he’s crying until you dab your sleeve at his cheek. Yoongi at his front and you holding him from behind, keeping him together as he cries and cries and cries. Jimin puts himself between you two and the door, a knife that he'd tapped under the table in his hands.

Jungkook huffs. "Should have stabbed her when you had the chance Minnie."

Closure escapes him, just out of his fingers. Hoseok wants to run after her and demand an apology. But he doesn’t know what’s better, an apology that’s hollow or none at all. No one talks for a moment while they watch her car pull out of the driveway and leave. No one says a word.

And then Jin gets up from the table and walks over to the kitchen. Namjoon follows him. Tae’s at the top of the steps, she’s changed her clothes from her PJs and washed off the scent blockers. Her hair hangs shaggy and messy over her glossy face, her bangs in a curly pink roller, and her skin pearly from her skincare.

She doesn’t smell distressed or upset. She doesn’t smell like anything at all but she’s wearing her favorite pink sweater. She comes close, runs her hands through Hobi's hair.

"I'll be fine, just give me a second I just need-"

"You cry for as long as you need to ho-baby."

"Yeah- cry as much as you want, use me as a napkin for all I care." your shirt is wet at the collar where Hobi burrows in.

Jin opens up the pack's liquor cabinet. Small and just to the side of the fridge. None of them really drink- but occasionally patients give Namjoon expensive bottles of whiskey for saving their lives. Jin pours himself a full glass of the most expensive bottle of it. No ice. He pours a second glass for Yoongi without asking. It’s barely noon, but when he asks “who wants a drink?” Seven hands shoot up.

~-~

Please Like, Comment, and Reblog! Every bit of encouragement helps me write the next chapter!

Come tell me what you liked about this chapter!

Series Masterlist ~ Donate ~ Twitter

~-~

Notes:

the very fist part of this chapter where hoseok and her are on the train was a part that i liked until final edits and then it felt??? idk??? clunky??? maybe a bit repetitive???? idk what it is and it's way too late to fix it T-T

this chapter is really an ode to what i originally thought of for bily, in the og version of this story yoongi was supposed to hate the m/c at the beginning for taking him away from the pack. i think his anger at the end is entirely justified- it's also like- his karma for leaving at the beginning you know? he might take it a bit too far in his reaction but tbh- i think we can cut him some slack for everything he's ever given to the m/c- all of the unconditional love.

i think that the train is like- a metaphor for getting better, or not getting better and keeping going on the reductive patterns that make you sick, because the things that make you feel better- like picking at a sticky scab- will only make you scar deeper. this is the last moment for the m/c, the moment she starts to heal for good.

the moment where hobi and the m/c are walking up to the car and yoongi is there i litterally see him puffing up like a studio ghibli charecter you know? or maybe like noodle whenever yoongi comes close.

honestly- the line where yoongi says that she doesn't love him like he loves her made me fucking sick when i wrote it like???? not me lowkey not giving them a happy ending. but i think that the part of bily thats always been fun to experiment with is how people sometimes people hurting you doesn't change how you feel about them.

did you catch the reasons wreched and divine refrence????

the line that yoongi says “Five? Ten? Sweetheart- I'd last ////5 minutes without you and you won't even look at me long enough too apologize and-" is very much a refrence to what hoseok says to yoongi at the begining of the series "You won’t even tell me now when I'm fucking dying over you, suffocating under the weight of things you just won’t say- and you don’t even care!” and i think thats pretty.

i think the yoongi parts will either make you guys feel vindicated or upset. i think it's up to you if he goes too far when he's angry- but i do think it's very human of him to get so angry like...the m/c is his whole fucking world...he will get over it! don't worry! he's just momentarily angry!

the part between when the pack call her and she arrifes felt really clunky while i was editing it, i decided not to take it down too much because i wanted you guys to feel some of their anticipation- but maybe it's too much. it's this kind of part that might get seriously paired down once i go back through bily and clean it up

"fuck this bitch"- noodle probably

noodle is like my favorite charecter i swear to god i love him so so much. i had the idea that he would be the only one to get some bloodletting in since the very begining of the series before he was ever written into the story. this is also the begining of them sorta being friends like- after this noodle is alot more tolerant of yoongi.

Moonbyul discloses that she has some pretty uncomfy views of being trans in this! i think it's pretty obvious that it's not meant to be like 'this is how all trans people are' and more of an effort to contrast tae- we are also talking like fake secondary genders here as well so- do with that what you will!

i also wanted to make the point with hobi and moonbyul's part at the end that sometimes the people who hurt you have no remorse, you don't get clousrure from them because they'll never admit that they shouldn't have done something. and the biggest closure that you can get is from giving yourself the strenght to let go. in a way- this directly contrasts the parts on the train in the begining. in order to heal a wound you have to stop touching it.

this chapter may feel like an ending in a sense because it is an end of all the mafia parts. truly- after this chapter we won't see any more violence or blood or anything close to the last 6. it's all happy endings from here <3 Thank you for sticking with it!

372 notes · View notes

anantaru · 11 months

Text

DAY 14 —YANDERE CORRUPTION

kinktober 2023. — masterlist | ao3

a/n. the albedo one got quite long and i adore how i wrote him there, i will definitely write a separate fic on this version of him in the future, enjoy!

𖧡 — including — lyney, albedo

𖧡 — warnings — fem! reader, angsty, yan! genshin men & manipulative genshin men, possessive, albedo without emotions, unhealthy behavior, unprotected syx, nipple play/tit play

𖧡 — LYNEY

lyney strangulates the sweltering tension linked on your bodies when he towers on top of you— and he proceeds slowly when he leans into your ear, certainly impressed that his calculations were proven to be right once again.

"i knew you'd come back to me." he breathes out a laugh, that for some reason harbored deep parallelisms to horridity, the tiny hairs around the back of your neck standing tall when you realize that, yes, quite frankly, you had returned to him even after you originally forced yourself to leave him behind.

with a planted kiss on your forehead, lyney steadies both hands around your thighs before feeling up your glistening pussy, his cock head roughing up and down your naked folds, leisurely gathering your arousal on his shaft to mock this situation more notably— the way you were already soaked without much required touches of him only further proved his point.

his rasping groans were continuously deepening but glimmered with an added pitchy timbre, yet were certainly nothing in comparison to the heavenly whines and whimpers you had hoped you'd be able to keep hidden in your chest.

"no, no, no," he mutters, distraught, and you flinch when he prods his rosy tip over your slit to make you sob at him, yet he still wouldn't move himself inside. "you need to be vocal with me, okay?" clearly, you weren't capable to see the danger of the situation, and it's ominously lurking like a frightening shadow on top of you, manifesting in the darkness of his eyes— his pupils lost on the brilliant twinkle around them that you originally fell in love with, his light bangs sticking to his forehead when he, at last, slides himself inside your cunt.

you toss your head into the pillows when he penetrates you, your legs instantly clinging around his waist as he fucks into the solidity of your slit, eagerly awaiting your noises whilst suffocating his own.

lyney cannot be louder than you right now, he had to hear you first— now, that your pussy was so tightly wrapped around his dripping cock, a brew of your arousal and his white pre trickling down his balls and seeping onto the silken bedsheets, staining the clean linen.

you drawl out the bundling moans in your throat all shakily as he carries on to pistol his thudding erection into you, the squelching noises only growing louder by now, buzzing through the darkened room as you lose any form of possible regret in you— his hands continuously tightening around your hips, lusting after wanting to feel more of you, the growing yearn for you, especially of how you're clamping down on his shaft and taking him like a second skin, sucking his length in as he grinds at the spongy patches on your sweet spots.

"that’s right, keep showing me how you feel, baby," lyney groans into your lips, eyes glazed with lust, "because— ah, fuck, you know i need to hear it." and you don't answer him with words, far too embarrassed that it had gotten to this point again, instead huffing out a pitchy weep, being unable to hear anything besides the ever-growing slap,slap,slap of your bodies colliding against each other, finding the skin so effortlessly well as lyney leans into your neck to meet your shoulder, mouthing over the wet spots before reaching your ear at last.

"because you know i'll never be able to let you go."

𖧡 — ALBEDO

"oh, when you look at me like that, my darling, what did you expect?"

with infinite tenderness, albedo kisses your chest after speaking with a weary resignation enlaced around his words, directly taking notice of the rapid thuds behind your ribcage— you're nervous, hanging on every word he said and each move he made.

the soothing trace of his lips prancing on your skin ignited the nerves of your body— the tranquil look on your soft features signalizing such, not to mention your high-lifting noises all together pulled his soul back inside of him, his cheeks bathing in a valentine-red when you squeeze your hips into his groin.

it makes albedo tilt his head with a small smile dancing on his face, all whilst his sunny, kind expression was silently melting off as his focused gaze shadows over your tied hands pushed above your head— an experiment, he might add, something he had originally proposed to you a while back, and thankfully you did give him your agreement to it, a shimmering layer of your sweat touching up your forehead as your breath stammers inside of you the moment he rolls the flat of his tongue over your nipples.

"i noticed—" he stops in midst his sentencing, his hot breath tickling the wet spots on your breasts before he hums to himself, "you like my usage of alternative names for you, am I correct?" he wraps his mouth around your tit before hollowing his cheeks whilst your heels dug into the mattress due to the sheer roughness of it— it's not like it doesn't feel nice, but it appears as if there was no sort of emotion webbed into his handle on your frame, yet your back arches like a bow despite your worry as he traps your nipple between his lips, all the while suckling harder until he lets it go with a loud 'pop'.

you paw around his soft locks before softening your fingers inside his hair, half-lidded eyes unable to ponder around the continues red flags ringing across your entire nervous system, "yes.." you huff out, his calculated ministrations coaxed twitch after twitch from your body, "it.. feels nice to hear it."

you're already so sensitive albedo cannot believe it, besides, he hasn't even laid his fingers on you that much— your soaked cunt was still untainted for the night, although fluttering around nothing but air and practically awaiting him bare and open.

"i will remember that." he says, stoic, and he always did, the most important tool in his life being knowledge and understanding more, understanding you or humans for that matter— just as during his experiments, you so happen to be of perfect help to him, your tits also always so extra reactive when albedo had them inside his hot mouth fusing his saliva with your fluids, it makes you shiver beyond any repair when he digs his tongue against the perky nipple while holding the other breast in his hand, perceiving the immediate kindness and obedience of your returning touch.

with the drawn out foreplay, you're on the brink of a sharp edge, bracing yourself before tangling your hands further into his silken hair, "albedo," you mutter, a blazing heat pummeling on top of your cheeks as his gaze meets yours instantly, "c-can you kiss me again?"

it's silent for a second, yet it felt like an eternal state of being before he props himself up by his hands and curves one palm around your cheeks, moving closer, his facial expression not showing much but he slants against you so close that your lips almost brush against each other, even though they ultimately didn't.

"for what matter?" he asks, and his question seemed genuine, almost as if he was only waiting to receive an answer and write it down somewhere, so he can further study human emotions and perhaps even copy some samples and integrate them in his life, to appear more normal, like he was a mortal being with functioning feelings.

"no reason at all." you bite back a whimper when his grip on you suddenly tightens a little, but then ultimately softens again, pushing himself off your body before resting his weight on his knees, keeping himself slotted in between your quivering thighs— the outlines of his growing erection were obviously drawn on his pants, his chest exposed with his shirt lazily dangling around his shoulders, his skin glimmering golden with no ounce of imperfections in sight.

"i must decline," the man coughs out into his fist, and you can feel the growing awkwardness inside of your chest but also the increase of irritation as to why he was removing himself all of a sudden. for whatever reason, you brace yourself again to ask him, instantaneously covering your naked chest before propping yourself up by your elbows and tilted your head to the side.

"why?"

"—that would give off the assumption, based on books I've read," he stammers, but quickly recollects himself, "that we are harboring some kind of romantic feelings for each other, which, is not the case."

—at least from my side."

your heart sinks into your chest at the realization of what his words truly meant— wow, who would’ve thought? even after all the countless situations you had aided him in his research, have even given him your body to continue his work and sometimes looked after him when he would forget to do so himself— only to be met with the bitterly cold, numbing feeling which was referred to as reality that the man in front of you, albedo, the chief alchemist, had no single sense of human emotions inside his body, besides the ones he acted out spontaneously, almost too perfectly, to make himself fit in.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #lyney x reader #lyney smut #albedo x reader #albedo smut #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #lyney x you #albedo x you #genshin drabbles #kinktober #genshin impact drabbles

1K notes · View notes

agi-ppangx · 9 months

Text

🎄CHRISTMAS EVE WITH BANG CHAN🎄

mini series masterlist

the delicious smell of chocolate chip cookies made its way through your apartment as you were looking for your jewellery to complete the outfit. you had less and less time to find it - chan and you were supposed to leave for the dinner with his parents any minute now.

“baby?” you heard your boyfriend’s voice from the living room. you hummed, rummaging through your vanity table, and soon after you noticed chan enter your bedroom. “you ready? we should leave soon,” he said, leaning on the doorframe. you huffed at his words.

“i know, i just-” you whined, closing the drawer with a loud thud. “-i can’t find my earrings.” chan smiled at you softly, taking a step into your direction. he wrapped his arms around your back, placing a gentle kiss on your exposed neck.

“are you nervous?” he whispered, swaying both of you from side to side.

you stayed silent for a moment. of course you were nervous, you were supposed to finally meet his parents after all. you wanted to make a good first impression, hoping that they’d accept you. you really loved chan, thinking seriously about your future, so his parents’ approval was madly important to you.

“i just don’t want to let you down,” you finally mumbled, playing with your bracelet. chan chuckled and squeezed your waist.

“baby, they’re gonna love you, trust me,” he responded, placing one more kiss on your head. “you have nothing to worry about. also-” he added. “-your earrings are in the bathroom. i’ll get them for you.”

when he came back to the bedroom he stood right in front of you, reaching out and putting the golden loops in your ears. chan’s touch was gentle and he was smiling the whole time.

“there you go. you look stunning, baby. but now come on, we gotta go,” he rushed you playfully, making his way to the kitchen to pack the still warm cookies. you exhaled loudly, taking one last look at yourself in the mirror and smiled softly at your appearance.

you walked up to the wardrobe, taking out all of the gifts you’d bought for chan’s parents and him as well. still nervous but also excited, you walked out of the bedroom to put on your coat and hopefully become a part of chan’s family.

taglist !

@lynlyndoll @iyenbread @flooo71 @skz-streamer @inniescandy-01 @hannahhbahng @prettymiye0n @ggsez31 @laylasbunbunny @like-a-diamondinthesky @axel-skz @kittymaryam-thebrowniefairy @l3visbby

#skz #stray kids #stray kids headcanons #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #stray kids scenarios #skz au #stray kids fluff #skz bang chan #bang chan fanfic #bang chan scenarios #bang chan fluff #bang chan x reader #bang chan

315 notes · View notes

keikiri-kitten · 1 year

Text

IT’S YOU THAT I ADORE ★ LEON KENNEDY

leon x reader, late 30’s/early 40’s leon, early 20’s reader, smut adjacent, angst, fluff, addressing leon’s drinking habit

Leon swore on any pure thing left on this Earth that he found a good thing in the one who took a chance on him, the old man.

Your smile ignited his heart; the flames warmed him up to the idea of a world filled with hope and promise. Something he hadn’t felt in a long time. He could actually anticipate the sound of your laugh in the morning and dig his fingertips into your flesh when he hugs you. Your kisses drive him wild and your sprite-like spirit makes him feel twenty seven again. Twenty one even.

He appreciates your willingness to stick besides him despite his stubborn nature. One that hasn’t changed since he was a rookie In Raccoon city. Leon’s a stubborn man in many aspects and the main one? Keeping you safe from any unsavory parts of him.

Alcohol was nothing short of a hobby with Leon and when he gets wasted, he’d come home late. The both of you could nearly count on him stumbling in at one in the morning with liquor on his breath as he finally begins to sober up. Nights like that make him choose to sleep on the couch. He won’t take off his clothes, he’ll sleep in an upright position with his head hanging on the back of the couch. Truly using his best judgment.

By the morning, he’s sober and can find you either staring at him pitifully in love or getting your day ready as you let him continue to rest. It’s usually like that when he gets wasted. Though that’s only how he perceives nights like this.

He doesn’t think about how you wake up in the middle of the night to hear him barging in. He doesn’t realize that you understand why he confides in a flask. Though what he doesn’t realize is that you wished he’d come to bed. No matter how much commotion he causes. You wish he’d be vulnerable in every aspect. You hope he knows you are in love with him for the good, bad and ugly he had to offer.

It’s the same kind of night tonight; Leon is stumbling in with a better sense of self awareness than what he had a couple of hours ago. You’re rocked awake from the sound, hearing him shuffle to the couch.

You hear him swear after a small thud, knowing that he banged his toe on what most likely was the couch. It causes you to shift in the bed that you two are supposed to share. This time was going to be different. You’ll get to catch him before he falls asleep. Pushing your tired body out of the bed, you tug the heavy duvet behind you until you’re peeking out from the door frame.

It’s easy to spot Leon who’s taken a similar position as always on the couch. He’s sitting up, limbs spread all over the couch and his eyes are hunting all over you. It’s obvious you startled him. A familiar black leather jacket and ragged boots are placed by the loveseat to leave the man in a dingy navy blue t-shirt and black jeans. His eyes roll while he scolds himself for waking you up.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he starts. His words are slightly slurred but his intentions are near sober. “Go back to sleep.”

“Leon, come to bed.” You tiredly coo, never minding the shameful look on his face. “I want you in bed with me.”

“I smell like alcohol. You don’t need to smell that…” he tries, sitting up as he continues to ramble off reasons to leave you be. “I’m sure you’re pissed with me for coming in late, waking you up.”

He’s talking but you’re not registering anything he’s saying. Your feet shuffle towards the older man, watching his body become tense. A hand of yours grips the blanket tighter in your fist. Out of instinct, his hands reach out for your hips, allowing you to fall in his hands. That and he longed for your touch.

As you begin to straddle his legs, he grips your hips and pulls you in close. Your face meets his chest, missing the sound of his heartbeat. Leon is stunned at first but he regains composure and takes the duvet from you and covers the both of you with it.

“I don’t care that you’re coming home late. I know how hard it is. I see it on you… I smell it on you,” you whisper. “I just want you to come home to me and not the couch. I love you.”

It was sudden but under the comfort of the cover, you could feel a strong hold wrap around you. Leon’s secure hold made you sigh out in comfort. With one arm wrapped around your waist and his other hand caressing the back of your head, he rests his cheek on the top of your head. “I love you too.”

“How can you sleep like this?” You ask.

“I can sleep just fine, doll face.” He mutters, shushing you, kissing your temple.

Your head slowly lifts off of Leon’s body to meet his eyes. The searing blue ached for your attention. They flickered between your eyes and lips. They have age to them; his eyes are hooded over and they’re accessorized with crows feet and bags from stress.

The hand behind your head drops to your neck as it brings your face closer to his. He didn’t have the intention of kissing you, it would have been tasteless. However with the pound of your heart increasing the longer he kept his eyes on you, you took it upon yourself to dress his lips in your kiss.

Leon stutters within the kiss for a brief moment as if he were about to object. Though your willingness to make him feel comfortable made his body sink deeper into the couch and his chest fall. Kissing you back, his kisses were damn near bruising. He secured your face against his with that grip on your waist almost piercing you.

It was only when he could feel your hands loosely drape around his neck that he tensed up so he could at least try to keep you against a sturdy surface. His hand that kept your kiss pressed against his lips traced to your cheek, naturally causing you to tilt your head in the palm of his hand. His lips grazed from your lips and over your jaw and down your neck with gentle kisses. You could feel the stubble on his jaw tickle at your skin.

The tip of his nose trails along your neck while he adorns you with kisses. “Leon,” you tiredly breathe out, knowing what he’s trying to get out of you.

That rough grip he has on your waist drops to snake his fingertips underneath the shirt of his you wore to bed. He wouldn’t speak, but he was obedient. It hurt to try and pull away his lips from you. They found their way back to yours in a last ditch effort for you to change your mind. They don’t kiss you but ghost over your lips. “I want you,” he mutters.

“Maybe when you’re completely sober we can talk about it, hm? I can make your hangover easier,” you tease, sending him a smile.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“I keep my promises, Kennedy.” You chirp, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Leon smiles. Truly.

He knows that he’s comfortable with sleeping sitting up, but he wouldn’t dare let you sleep in such a way. He adjusts your bodies to lay down on the cushions of the couch. All you could do is cozy into the firmness of his chest. “Now you can sleep. You’ve got me feeling like an ass having you sleep on the couch.”

Snorting, you shake your head. “Goodnight, Leon.”

“Good night, beautiful.”

#leon x reader #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy drabble #leon kennedy angst #leon fluff #leon angst #residentevilbirdie #resident evil leon #resident evil x reader #residentbirdie #leon scott kennedy #Leon Drabble

768 notes · View notes

lila-lou · 7 days

Text

✨Rough around the edges - Pt. 1✨

Summary: Jack's day couldn’t have gotten any worse. Exhausted from a grueling shift under the scorching sun, he just wanted to crash at home with some wings and a football game. But his plans for a quiet night were shattered when the racket from his new neighbor echoed through the walls.

Pairing: Jack x Reader

Warnings: Language, age gap

Word Count: 4385

A/N: English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

"Fucking shit!", Jack grumbled as he yanked the heavy piece of wood back into place, his muscles straining from the sudden weight. His colleague had almost dropped it from his side, barely catching it in time. Jack's patience was wearing thin after hours of working under the hot sun. They were up on the fifth floor of a building still under construction, the framework barely holding together as they handed over beam after beam to meet the firm’s relentless deadline.

"Watch it, man", Jack muttered, glaring at his coworker, and best friend, who shrugged it off with a nervous chuckle. He wasn’t in the mood for apologies or excuses. He adjusted his grip, steadying the beam as they maneuvered it into place, his hands rough and worn from the constant grind. The city skyline stretched out in the distance, a reminder of how much work still lay ahead.

They were only halfway through the shift, and Jack could already feel the familiar ache settling into his shoulders. It wasn’t like he hated the job — he was good at it, and it paid the bills — but days like these made him wonder how long he could keep it up.

One misstep up here and things could go bad real quick.

A few hours later, as Jack made his way toward his car, the heat of the day still clung to him, though the sweat on his body had started to dry. His shirt stuck to his back, and every step felt like a reminder of the long, grueling hours spent on the site. His muscles ached, and all he could think about was getting home.

Just as he unlocked his car, he heard footsteps pounding behind him. Anthony, his best friend, jogged up with that usual grin plastered on his face. “Hey, man! You wanna grab a beer in town? Some of the guys are heading over to O’Malley’s”.

Jack groaned inwardly, barely holding back an eye roll. The last thing he wanted right now was to be surrounded by loud voices and more chaos. He glanced at Anthony and waved him off. "Dude, even my fucking balls are sweating. I'm beat to hell after this week".

Anthony laughed, clapping him on the shoulder, but Jack wasn’t in the mood.

“Nah, man. I’m heading home. All I wanna do is watch the football game, grab a bucket of wings, crack open a six-pack, and call it a night”. He paused and smirked, half-joking. “Might jerk off if I can stay awake long enough”.

Anthony let out a loud, obnoxious laugh. “Sounds like a hell of a night. Alright, man, catch you next time”.

Jack nodded, climbing into his car and slamming the door shut. As soon as the engine roared to life, he felt the weight of exhaustion settle over him. His mind was already on the couch waiting for him. Nothing fancy. Just a little peace, a little food, and maybe, if he wasn’t too worn out, a moment to himself before crashing into bed.

Half an hour later, Jack trudged up the stairs to his apartment, the bucket of wings tucked under his arm like a lifeline. His body ached with every step. Man, he was tired. All he wanted was to collapse on the couch.

As he reached the top of the stairs, nearing his door, a loud bang jolted him out of his thoughts. He froze, listening, and sure enough, there were more sounds—soft curses, followed by another series of thuds—coming from the apartment across the hall. The one that had been empty for months since the old lady who lived there had moved to a retirement home.

Jack paused, glancing over his shoulder at the door. Whoever it was clearly wasn’t having the smoothest move-in. He heard something fall again, accompanied by a muffled groan of frustration.

Jack groaned in annoyance, rubbing a hand across his face. Just great. As if the week hadn’t been exhausting enough, now he had to imagine his weekend being a noisy mess thanks to whoever was moving in. All he wanted was some peace and quiet. Instead, it seemed like his weekend would be filled with endless bangs and thuds coming from across the hall.

Another loud thud echoed through the hallway, followed by a soft “Ouchy” that made him roll his eyes. He could already picture some clueless person fumbling around with boxes, knocking stuff over, and generally making a racket. The kind of person who probably had no idea how to move without turning it into a circus.

Jack shifted the bucket of wings under his arm, debating whether or not to knock on the door. Part of him wanted to just ignore it, retreat into his apartment, and hope for the best. But the other part, the more frustrated part, was tempted to knock and tell them to keep it down. He’d had a long week, and he deserved a break, damn it.

Finally, he took a deep breath and approached the door, raising his fist to knock.

Just then, the door swung open unexpectedly, and there you were, looking frazzled and clearly unprepared for company. You were wearing nothing more than a pair of shorts and a tank top, your skin glistening slightly from the heat. Your hair, a messy bun on top of your head, looked like it had been thrown together in a hurry, and you had no makeup on, not that you needed it.

Jack blinked, momentarily caught off guard, staring at the younger woman standing in front of him.

You, on the other hand, were equally surprised to see the man standing in front of you. He had to be at least double your age, but damn, he was handsome—broad-shouldered, his shirt sticking to his body in places from what looked like a long day of work, and those tired, slightly irritated eyes that made him seem like someone who didn’t put up with much nonsense.

“Uh… hi”, you blurted, your voice a little breathless from all the moving. You glanced down at the two boxes sitting in front of your door, which you had come out to grab. “Sorry about the noise. I swear, I’m almost done”.

Jack let out a deep breath. “Yeah, I was kind of wondering if you were trying to tear the place down before you even moved in”.

You laughed, a soft, self-conscious sound, running a hand over your face. “Feels like it. I’m not exactly an expert at this moving thing. Been here all day, and I’m pretty sure I’ve destroyed more stuff than I’ve unpacked”.

Jack’s eyes flicked over you, taking in the sight of your casual shorts and tank top, the slight sheen of sweat on your skin. His gaze wasn’t lewd, but it was unmistakably assessing, like he was trying to figure you out. The tiredness in his eyes gave way to something more skeptical, maybe even judgmental. He crossed his arms, one eyebrow raising slightly as if he couldn’t believe someone as young as you could afford a place like this without some help from your parents—or worse, without a party lifestyle attached.

“You’re not planning on partying every day, though, right?”, Jack said, his voice carrying an edge of suspicion. His eyes lingered just a moment too long before meeting yours again. It was clear he wasn’t thrilled at the idea of noisy neighbors—especially younger ones.

You blinked, momentarily taken aback by the implication. Seriously? He didn’t even know you, and already he was sizing you up like you were going to turn the building into a constant rave scene. You clenched your jaw, irritation bubbling up despite the exhaustion from moving.

“Uh, no”, you mumbled, crossing your arms defensively. “I actually have to work. So no, I’m not throwing parties 24/7”.

His eyebrow quirked slightly at that, as if reassessing you now. He didn’t say anything, just gave a small grunt in response. It was hard to tell whether he believed you or not, but he didn’t press the issue.

You shifted uncomfortably, feeling judged by this man who you had just met. He was rude, but still frustratingly handsome, even if you hated to admit it. “Anyway”, you added, trying to keep the edge out of your voice, “I just moved in today, so I’m probably more exhausted than you are right now”.

Jack glanced at the boxes again, the annoyance in his posture easing just slightly. He seemed to realize that you weren’t what he’d assumed at first glance. “Fair enough”, he said after a moment. “I’m not trying to be a dick. It’s just been a long week, and I wasn’t expecting… all this noise”.

“Yeah, well, me neither”, you said, rolling your eyes and grabbing one of the boxes. “Last thing I wanted today was to turn my move into a construction site soundtrack”.

There was a beat of silence between the two of you before Jack let out a small sigh, as if he were finally letting go of the tension. “Alright”, he said, softer now.

With that, Jack simply turned around, seemingly content to let the conversation end there. His broad shoulders shifted as he took a few steps toward his door, the tension finally draining from the air between you. You stood there for a moment, watching him, still feeling a bit stung by the way he had sized you up but relieved that the exchange hadn’t escalated into anything worse.

“I’m Y/N, by the way”, you called after him, hoping to salvage at least a shred of neighborly civility. Maybe if you introduced yourself, it would take the edge off his attitude.

But he didn’t stop. He was already at his door, turning the knob without so much as glancing back. The heavy sound of the door slamming shut echoed in the hallway, leaving you standing there, feeling awkward and a little insulted. Clearly, Jack wasn’t the friendly type—or maybe he was just having a bad day.

You exhaled slowly, gripping the edge of the box a little tighter as you shuffled it into your apartment. Shutting your own door behind you, you leaned against it for a second, shaking your head. Great, you thought, this is going to be an interesting neighbor dynamic.

Moving boxes and unpacking was hard enough, but now you had to deal with the grumpy guy across the hall. You couldn't help but wonder if he’d always be this much of a grump or if this was just his post-work exhaustion talking. Either way, you figured you wouldn’t be getting on his good side any time soon.

Meanwhile, Jack made his way into his apartment, the door closing behind him with a thud. He set the bucket of wings down on the counter, exhaling as he ran a hand through his sweat-dampened hair. He couldn’t shake the image of you—frazzled, yet oddly composed—out of his mind. It annoyed him, mostly because he knew he’d been unnecessarily rude.

Shaking it off, he emptied the bucket of wings into his air fryer and set the timer. He had earned this meal after the week he’d had, and he wasn’t about to let anything ruin that. As the air fryer whirred to life, Jack peeled off his work shirt, which clung to his skin, then kicked off his boots as he headed toward the bathroom.

The mirror caught a glimpse of his reflection as he stripped down, his body still sore from the grind of lifting and hauling all day. He sighed, stepping into the shower, letting the hot water wash over him. It was like the heat and frustration of the day started to melt away the moment the water hit his skin.

Jack leaned his head against the tile, letting the water cascade down his back, rinsing away the grime.

Around two hours later, Jack sat slumped on his couch, the room dimly lit by the glow of the TV. The low sounds of a porn scene played in the background, but his mind was barely focused on the screen. His head rested back against the couch, his eyes half-lidded as he worked his hand around himself, having slipped out of his sweatpants. This was his way of letting off steam after a week like the one he’d just had.

It was routine by now—something easy, quick, and without the complications of dealing with a woman who might end up being clingy or demanding more than he was willing to give. This was uncomplicated, his way of zoning out and shutting off the outside world. No messy emotions, no obligations—just a quiet moment for himself.

Jack exhaled heavily, his hand moving in rhythm as the sounds from the TV filled the otherwise silent apartment. His muscles were still tired, but there was a certain release in this moment. The frustrations of the day, including the brief encounter with you, seemed distant now. This was about turning off everything for a little while—no thoughts, no stress, just the physical release he needed.

And after? He’d down the rest of his six-pack and knock out on the couch, forgetting the world entirely, at least for a few hours.

But Jack had planned it all without accounting for you. Just as he was about to finish, his stomach tightening with that familiar tension, the loud, jarring sound of a hammer hitting nails into the wall echoed through the apartment, shaking the thin wall behind his TV.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”, Jack muttered, his mood immediately broken as the banging continued, louder now. He clenched his jaw, frustration boiling up again. He had been so close to just letting go of the entire day’s stress, and now this. The relentless thud of hammering kept going, pulling him completely out of the moment.

His hand stilled, and he slammed his fist against the side of the couch in frustration. Of course, he thought, it had to be the new neighbor. You were likely trying to settle in, oblivious to the fact that you were ruining what little escape he had. Jack exhaled sharply, running a hand over his face as he sat up, the mood thoroughly killed.

The hammering continued, and Jack could feel the tension in his body shifting from desire to pure annoyance. He thought about just letting it go, but every time the hammer hit, it felt like another push against his patience. Grumbling under his breath, he yanked his sweatpants back up and stood, glaring at the wall as if that would somehow stop the noise.

For a second, he considered banging on the wall in retaliation. But he knew that wasn’t going to help. Instead, he grabbed a T-shirt from the floor, pulling it over his head as he stormed toward the door.

Time to have a little chat about the noise.

Jack was beyond fucked up. His head was pounding with the frustration of being yanked out of the one bit of peace he’d managed to carve out for himself. The incessant hammering felt like a personal attack. His mind was still half-focused on the release he had been chasing, now replaced by a surge of raw anger coursing through him.

He stomped to the door, yanking it open with more force than necessary. He didn’t care anymore if he looked like a pissed-off wreck. This was supposed to be his time to unwind, to shut the world out, and here you were, ruining it without even knowing. His thoughts raced, blending his frustration with the earlier judgment he’d passed on you. Young, new neighbor—probably clueless about the noise, or just didn’t give a damn.

He crossed the hallway with long strides, already regretting not saying something earlier when you’d first made a racket. Without bothering to calm down, Jack raised his fist and banged on your door with the same intensity as the hammering that had interrupted his night.

The hammering stopped suddenly, and Jack stood there, his jaw clenched, waiting. His breathing was still heavy, fueled by the adrenaline from both the frustration and the situation he had been pulled out of. He heard footsteps approach the door, and it opened to reveal you, looking slightly surprised and flushed, probably from all the effort of settling in. You still had that slightly frazzled look, your hair in a messy bun, and a hammer in hand.

“Hey, I—”, you started, but Jack cut you off before you could finish.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?”. His voice was sharp, almost a growl. “I’ve had the longest fucking week, and all I wanted was to relax for once, but instead, I’ve got you hammering away like it’s a fucking championship".

You blinked, clearly caught off guard by the aggression in his tone. “I… I’m sorry. I didn’t realize—”.

“Yeah, well, now you do”, Jack snapped. “Some of us don’t want to listen to that shit at this hour”.

You stood there for a second, staring at him. Then, with a deep breath, you said, “Look, I didn’t mean to bother anyone. I just moved in, and I’m trying to get this done before it gets too late. But I didn’t think it would be this loud. I can stop”.

Just then, a heavy crash echoed from inside your apartment, cutting the tense moment between you and Jack short. Both of your heads snapped toward the source of the noise—your bedroom. Your face paled as realization hit you.

“Oh no”, you whined under your breath, eyes wide in horror.

Jack leaned slightly to the side, peeking over your shoulder, and sure enough, he saw straight into your bedroom. The massive bookshelf you’d just tried to hang with nails was now lying crookedly on your bed, surrounded by scattered books and what looked like pieces of drywall that had fallen from the wall.

He stood there for a moment, staring, trying to process what he was seeing. Then, almost involuntarily, a muttered, “Are you serious?”, escaped his lips. The disbelief was clear in his tone, but there was also a flicker of amusement breaking through the anger. His lips twitched in the faintest hint of a smirk.

“You really tried hanging that… with nails?”, Jack asked, incredulous, but there was something different in his voice now—a touch of dry humor.

You flushed, your embarrassment reaching new heights as you buried your face in your hands for a moment, groaning. “I thought it would hold! I didn’t realize it was that heavy!”.

Jack huffed, shaking his head in disbelief. “That thing’s massive. Nails? Really? You need anchors or brackets for something like that. Not nails”.

You glanced up at him, your embarrassment deepening, but his tone had shifted enough that you felt less defensive. He wasn’t ripping into you anymore, at least. “I didn’t think it through, clearly”, you admitted, rubbing the back of your neck. “I just… I wanted to get it done, you know?”.

Jack exhaled, still standing in your doorway, but some of the anger and tension from earlier had melted away, replaced by the undeniable ridiculousness of the situation. He crossed his arms, shaking his head with a mixture of amusement and exasperation.

He sighed heavily, rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced from you to the chaotic scene in your bedroom. He seemed torn between frustration and reluctant amusement, clearly trying to figure out how he got roped into this situation. After a moment, he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear, “If I put that stupid bookshelf on the wall… are you actually gonna go to fucking sleep after?”.

You blinked, surprised by the unexpected offer, and despite the roughness in his tone, there was a hint of something almost… helpful? You couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or just resigned to the situation. Either way, you couldn’t believe he was volunteering to help after everything.

You nodded quickly, still flustered. “Yeah, absolutely. I’ll be out of your hair for the rest of the night”.

Jack rolled his eyes but stepped back into the hallway. “Fine. Let me grab my tools. I’m not doing this again tomorrow”. He shot you a look as if to say, You owe me for this, and turned back toward his apartment.

As he disappeared into his place, you stood in the doorway for a second, a mix of relief and embarrassment washing over you. This wasn’t how you expected your night to go, but at least you weren’t completely on your own with the bookshelf disaster now.

A few minutes later, Jack returned with a drill, a level, and some heavy-duty wall anchors, looking every bit like the reluctant handyman he had somehow become tonight. “Alright”, he grumbled as he walked past you into your bedroom, “Let’s do this before I regret offering”.

You followed him into the room, standing awkwardly off to the side as he inspected the damage. He shook his head, muttering under his breath again. “Shit, the whole thing could’ve taken the wall down with it”.

You couldn’t help but let out a small, nervous laugh. “Yeah… definitely didn’t think it through”.

Jack just gave you a look before getting to work, drilling into the wall with quick efficiency. You watched in silence, half-grateful and half-embarrassed that this grumpy, tired stranger was now saving you from your own DIY disaster.

Within ten minutes, the bookshelf was back up, this time secured with proper brackets and anchors. Jack stepped back, giving it a firm tug to test its stability. “There. That’s not coming down unless you drive a truck through the wall”.

You grinned, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. “Thank you. Seriously”.

Jack gave a half-shrug, packing up his tools. “Just keep it quiet, alright? I wasn’t kidding about the long week”.

You nodded, grateful. “I promise. No more hammering”.

“Next time, get your damn boyfriend to do that shit before you and your furniture end up breaking through my wall”, Jack muttered, nodding toward the picture frame sitting on top of a moving box. In the photo, you were smiling alongside a tall, athletic-looking guy with his arm wrapped around you. Jack’s comment was laced with a hint of irritation, but also that same dry humor you’d been getting used to.

Your smile faltered for a moment as your eyes followed his to the photo. Little did he know, that guy in the picture wasn’t in your life anymore—and that was the whole reason you had moved into this place. The sting of your breakup surfaced briefly, the memory of catching him cheating on you still raw. You swallowed hard, quickly deciding not to let Jack in on that painful detail. It wasn’t like he needed to know, and the last thing you wanted was pity from a man who had barely tolerated your existence for the last few hours.

“I’m Jack”, he grumbled, finally acknowledging your earlier introduction. It was a reluctant gesture, his voice still rough with exhaustion, as though even saying his name was a chore. He barely looked at you as he muttered it, his eyes already shifting toward his door like he couldn’t wait to escape the interaction.

Before you could respond or even offer a polite “nice to meet you”, he was already halfway back to his apartment. The door closed with a soft click behind him, leaving you standing there in the quiet hallway, feeling the weight of everything settle on your shoulders again. His abruptness wasn’t surprising, but it still stung a little after the tense back-and-forth of the evening.

You let out a sigh, glancing back at the photo on the box. Jack, you thought, rolling his name over in your mind. He was clearly rough around the edges, quick to frustration, but at least he hadn’t been completely heartless. He’d helped with the bookshelf, after all—something he absolutely didn’t have to do.

You stood there for a moment longer, gathering your thoughts. The apartment felt quiet now, too quiet, after the chaos of the last few hours. The silence brought your mind back to why you’d moved in the first place, and without meaning to, you found yourself thinking of your ex again—how easily he'd broken your trust, how it had shattered everything you'd built together.

You shook your head, pushing the memories away. This was a new start, and you weren’t going to let thoughts of him ruin it. No more looking back.

Turning back to the room, you tidied up the last of the scattered books and straightened out the bedding. As you moved around, Jack’s gruff demeanor kept replaying in your mind—his judgmental comments, his unexpected offer of help, and the brief glimpse of amusement when the bookshelf came crashing down. You couldn’t quite pin him down, and that intrigued you in a way you weren’t expecting.

By the time you were ready to settle into bed, you found yourself glancing at the wall you shared with Jack’s apartment, half-expecting to hear some noise, but it was completely silent. You lay down, pulling the covers over you, and for the first time in a while, you felt a strange sense of calm. Despite the chaos of the night, the disaster with the bookshelf, and the awkward introduction to your grumpy neighbor, things didn’t feel quite as overwhelming as they had earlier.

Maybe this place would turn out to be a fresh start after all.

———————————

A/N: I had way too much fun writing this. This story will definitely be a multi-part one.

I guess there will be also more from Jack in the future.

Please let me know what you think.🥰

Part 2

Taglist: @blackcherrywhiskey @baby19sthings @suckitands33 @spnfamily-j2 @lyarr24 @deans-baby-momma @reignsboy19 @kawaii-arfid-memes @mekkencspony @lovziy @artemys-ackles @fitxgrld @libby99hb @lovelyvirtualperson @a-lil-pr1ncess @nancymcl @the-last-ry @spndeanwinchesterlvr @hobby27 @themarebarroww @kr804573 @impala67rollingthroughtown @deans-queen @deadlymistletoe @selfdestructionandrhum @utyblyn @winchesterwild78 @jackles010378 @chirazsstuff @foxyjwls007 @smoothdogsgirl @woooonau @whimsyfinny @freyabear @laaadygisbooornex3 @quietgirll75 @cheynovak @ookidoki @deans-spinster-witch @n-o-p-e-never @riah1606 @stoneyggirl2 @saintnourah

#jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #buddy games #jack durfy #jack durfy x reader #jack durfy x you #jack durfy x Y/N

132 notes · View notes

tvgals · 1 year

Text

ੈ✩‧₊˚ NO NUT NOVEMBER? I HARDLY KNOW HER!

awkward! gojo x black! boss! reader

— when staying after work during no nut november, awkward! gojo ends the month with a bang…

gojo was at his desk typing away at his computer, subconsciously ignoring the strain against his pants. gojo hadn’t touched himself in a month, him and a few of his friends doing a stupid ass nnn challenge. gojo was an idiot for accepting the challenge, knowing that almost everyday when he’d go home he’d stroke his dick to the thought of you, his boss. some days your tits would pop out of the top of your shirts, your ass poking out of the bottom of your skirts anytime you bent down to pick up a pen you dropped or a document, all the men in the office thirsted over your fat pussy lips on display.

“ah! hello satoru, what are you doing here so late?” you teasingly ask, walking up to him. “oh! i just-i just had to take care of some documents i forgot about!” gojo stammered, his eyes glued to his computer because he knows that if he looks up at you, his erection will be even more painful. “i see.” you nod, walking behind gojo, slowly trailing your acrylics along his shoulders, your tits pressing against the back of his head. “you’re doing such a good job.” you praise the ivory haired man, rubbing circles along his back. “thank you ma’am…” gojo sighs out, peering down at his dick, the blood flowing faster than ever.

“mhm. i’ll be in my office if you need anything, make sure to knock first.” you smirk, walking away. gojo heaved a sigh and slumped down in his seat, unzipping his pants. i mean, he could tug one right here and now. you were in your office, and gojo heard you locking the door. so if he were to get off to the thought of you in the office, you wouldn’t know. gojo unzipped his pants and shimmied them down a bit, his cock hitting just at his belly button with a thud. he groans, slapping a hand over his mouth with the other works at his cock. “shit shit shit.” gojo moaned, muffled by his hand. you were in your office scrolling away on instagram, your other hand digging around in a bag of chips. you decided it was time for gojo to head home for the night, he’d been working hard the whole week, it was only fair to give him a break.

you stood up and opened your door, your heels clacking against the tile floor. your face scrunched up in confusion as you heard meek moans and whines. you slowly converted into a smile, walking up to gojo as he stroked his dick even faster. “ah satoru, what am i going to do with you?” you tut mockingly, gojo immediately letting go of his dick and looking up at you with puppy eyes. “no no! it isn’t what it looks like, promise!” gojo cried out, trying to pull his pants back up. in a swift motion, you pull your leg up and pin gojo’s dick to his stomach with the toe of your heel. “oh shit!” gojo chokes out a strangled moan.

“now who do you think you are getting off in my office?” you snarl, putting more pressure onto his dick. “i’m sorry, ma’am! i just n-needed- i just needed relief!” gojo cried, fat tears streaming down his face. “my stupid little employee, what ever will i do with you?” you coo, retracting your foot from his dick. you hiked your skirt up and pulled your panties down, letting them fall to your ankles before stepping out of them. “w-what are you doing?..” gojo whispers, his eyes glued to your thighs. “teaching you a lesson. however will you learn to not touch yourself in my building?” you ask, unbuttoning your blouse to let your tits pop out freely. gojo’s breath starts to become more heavy and dense.

“i’m so- sorry! please ma’am, i’ll never come back!” gojo pleaded, his hands gripping at the handles of his chair. “oh no, you can stay as much as you want. it’s when you get too much free will, that’s my problem with you.” you say, staring into gojo’s eyes. you make your way in from of him, grasping his dick and slowly sinking down. gojo hisses and bucks his hips up involuntarily. “i’m sorry ma’am..�� gojo whines, throwing his head back. you respond with a moan once you make it to the base. “feel so good already…” you laugh airily. gojo start breathing heavier and heavier, curling his toes in his work shoes. you open gojo’s computer and skim through a few documents, slowly rolling your hips onto his. “ah, satoru. these documents are all wrong!” you sigh out, now bouncing up and down onto his dick.

“‘m sorry, ma’am..i’m trying..” gojo whined, moving a hand to grab the fat of your hip. “apparently not hard enough.” you mumble to yourself, bringing gojo’s other hand that was grasping his chair to pinch your nipple. “doing so good f’me baby..” you mewl, trying to keep focused on the documents. “thank you so much..been thinking about this for years almost…all th-this time i’ve worked here…always had my..my eyes on you.” gojo admitted, you still bouncing on his cock. “you had all of these chances, satoru. what happened?” you ask, deleting all of gojo’s hard work. “was scared…i d-didn’t know how to talk to you…” gojo said, feeling his high approaching. you giggled to yourself, the gojo who barely talked to people at work and who often ate lunch alone in his car wanted you.

“i see..” you mumble, the feeling of satoru’s tip hitting your cervix becoming too much. “‘m gonna cum! please ma’am!” gojo practically screamed, arching his back. “give it to me, baby. cmon.” you coax gojo, feeling his hand move from your tit and to start vigorously rubbing your clit. you moaned out at the extra stimulation, feeling yourself let go. “shit- pl-please keep cumming..” gojo whined, slamming his cock upwards into you. gojo came with a whine, both of his hands gripping at your hips.

“g-good boy..” you praised gojo, loving the way his dick twitched inside of you. “t-thank you ma’am..” gojo cries out, feeling you stand up off of his dick. “don’t mention it.” you sigh out. “here, wear these tomorrow. i’ll check.” you demand, throwing your black lacy panties at him, walking back to your office. gojo nodded silently and turned back to his computer, his eyes widening at all the work that was lost by you. looks like he’ll have to stay later tomorrow.

TAGLIST —

@looking4chanel @draculara-vonvamp @therealcees-blog @laylasbunbunny @lovelytayy @d7n3 @deadgirlkisses @darkknightpeanutbagel @thecoloredpages @xricly @chinaza444 @baboon-milk333 @marcelineormars @mxspiderman2099 @ts1mp0ne @23victoria @ravereina @stevenknightmarc @laaailuh @diorsbrando @madz-rulez @spiderheartzz @chinieh @asensitivecookie @tourbug @anikaluv @mainvamp @strawberryshortcake143 @spectr3inl0ve @anitatvd @yuckyygutz @janaeby @milesmoralesesposa @lily-pythonz @naijagrl @ninaaaazzzz @sucuretcannelle @captaincyberqueen @cafehyunji @gtsflawless @v1rtu4lsworld

530 notes · View notes

catiuskaa · 9 months

Text

this close to begging

SUMMARY: an angsty tension formed out of pent-up feelings. a mix of alcohol, changbin and you might find just the way of solving it.

WC: 1.6k

CW: swearing, angsty feelings, drinking, drunk oral sex (f rec.), mentions of degradation and size kink, use of nicknames: bubs, my love, bunny, recreational use of pussydrunk!changbin because I say so, why not, and I think that’s all, folks! (pls tell me if I missed anything!)

TAGGING! @ur-boyfiends-reading, from a fellow seolar <3 hope you like it! (feel no pressure at all if it isn’t your kind of thing tho)

[◾️☆💠☆◾️]

You hadn’t meant it. Of course you hadn’t.

You had been fed up with everyone’s bullshit in the past week. Dealing with the cons of dating an idol was usually fine, but added to the recent stress in your minimum-wage job, with your boss constanltly prancing around and making everyone’s mood so fucking crispy, roaming and firing people in several departments— including yours.

Let’s just say you weren’t in your best of days. Or… weeks.

And Changbin, well, you hadn’t had the heart to tell him just yet. Or to talk. Much to your and his despair, his schedule had also been against you seeing each other. Always full to the brim. Packed to the infinity.

You had barely seen him the past week. Maybe even the one before, which didn’t help at all with your current exhaustion.

Still, it wasn’t an excuse for the argument that stroke between both of you. You couldn’t point out who or what had started it, but the tension made the focal point of the loud discussion change.

“Leave me the fuck alone for a minute, okay!? You’re always clinging to me like a desperate little bitch.”

You froze, hands slightly trembling after those lies came out of your mouth. You hadn’t meant it, at all. You loved your smol little cuddly Binnie. You loved how you would usually wake up with his hands beneath your shirt as he pampered your face and neck with kisses, his hair messy and fluffy and his face puffy from sleep. You couldn’t figure in your head how that sentence had come off. You couldn’t understand it.

Still, for both his and your sanity, you had moved from your shared bed to the first floor, and locked yourself inside the guest’s room, which was never really used by anyone else than the rest of the members whenever they wanted to stay the night.

After you entered the spare room, you heard a ruffle of sorts and then the loud slam of the main door closing.

And since then, a couple of hours had passed.

You didn’t have the heart to text or apologize. You wouldn’t know where to start, and being honest, you weren’t sure he was going to forgive you. In your mind, that was totally plausible and justifiably so.

Where could Changbin gone? Your chest tightened, not daring to get out. What if he had left to stay elsewhere? No, Chan would’ve texted you.

Right?

You sighed, slowly banging your head against the door behind you, feeling the guilt spread through your body.

Brushing off the tears on your cheeks, you stood up, shaking your head, and decided to step out and head to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee.

The silence in the apartment was killing you slowly. Usually, as loud as he could be, Changbin would leave traces of where he was or what he was doing with small sounds. Like the little giggles when he was texting the members. The loud cackles when he watched instagram reels, and the proud snicker when he encountered edits of himself. The low humming when a song got stuck in his head, there it be one of his own creations or the ones he listened to. The small thuds as he practiced choreographys in his study, for tiktok trends or for Felix’s enjoyment.

Now, it was just silence as you sipped from he mug. It was probably not a good idea to have coffee past one am, but you didn’t care.

And then, you heard the struggles of a drunk man trying to open the door.

You hesitated. He was a mess when he was drunk, but now he’d probably be mad. And you kind of deserved it.

Shaking your head, you opened the door, and his body, slightly taller than yours, fell like a puppet, his head nuzzling into your neck as his arms closed around your waist.

“Bubs, y-you’re so preettty,” he sniffed. He was… crying? “Ah… I- m-missed you, sooo, so muchh…” he trailed off, his eyes teary.

You tried to craddle his face or to move him away, and failed to guide him upstairs.

“N-no!” He refused, tightening his grip around you.

“My love, you should go to bed.” You mentioned softly.

His eyes widened, and his head shot up, his hands now cradling your face.

“W-what did you just say?” He muttered. “D-don’t say that. If you… do that… n-no…”

You blinked, pouting unconciously.

“What, baby?” He shivered under your touch when your hands softly grabbed his wrists.

“Remember how… I uh… said that… alcohol… uh…”

The intense blush in his face made you almost jump in your place, your eyebrows shot up slightly.

You were unable to control a smile that creeped from underneath. “My love…” you started, and he almost whimpered. “Are you getting horny?” You whispered, and he nodded against your neck.

“You… you’re just s’prettyy… ‘n you keep wearing my clothes…” his fingers started to trail patterns, slowly riding up an old hoodie of his that you had most definetely stolen.

You licked your lips.

“Let’s get you to bed, yeah? Lemme take care of you.”

His body fell on the bed like dead weight. His eyes were closed, his features so soft you thought he had fallen asleep.

You started taking his shoes off, followed by his socks, because you knew he hated sleeping with them on.

Changbin sighed, and you stopped.

“Bubs, please,” his hand tugged your sleeve. “P-please… just. Just… this once. ‘M so sorry. I’ll fix this. I’ll do whatever I can. I’ll talk to the company or something.” He blabbered messily, and tugged your sleeve harder, swiftly taking your other arm and pulling towards him, making you fall on top of him.

He brushed a couple of stray hairs from your face, and you struggled you find a comfortable position to lie on him.

“B-bunny, w-wait.” His hands stopped your waist. “Fuck, I need you. Please. I know ‘m drunk… just…” his features scrunched up, thinking.

“Love…” you started.

“Wait, I know!” He blurted out. “Just lemme taste you.” He smiled, breathing against your lips, in a way that you could almost taste what he had drinked earlier.

“W-what?”

He whined. “You always taste s’good, bubs. Please. Binnie need this, pleaaase…” he trailed off, peppering messy kisses on your neck.

You felt him harden underneath you as you thought for an answer.

“But we had a fight, love. I don’t want you to do this and feel wrong about it tomorrow.” You said lowly, biting your lip. “Are you sure about this?”

“I know, I know. ‘m drunk, sure, but you still taste so fucking good ‘nd look like a goddess. Thinking I’ll regret this ‘s bullshit.” He mumbled against your skin.

You got lost in thought, and he took that in advantage, rolling his hips against yours.

“You said you’d take care of me,” he whimpers lowly, his voice hoarse. “Kiss me.” Changbin licked his lips, his mouth dry. “Please.”

There was an urgency, a burning desire that crashed through your body as his lips devoured yours after a shy nod. Each touch of his lips sent ripples of warmth through your body, making both of you more hot and bothered as it grew in intensity. It was a kiss that spoke volumes without uttering a word, a language of emotions conveyed through the mixture of breaths. A way of apologizing from before and a form of drunk reassurance.

The taste was a mixture of the drinks he had taken and your flavoured chapstick, tongues clashing against one another as his hands moved to your waist and turned both of you. With his figure over yours, he parted your legs with soft strokes on your thigh, leaning in, unable to separate from your lips, taste stronger and more addicting than any drink he could’ve found over at the bar.

When you broke apart, a thin strand of drool followed your lips, and without missing a beat, Changbin licked it clean. You panted, your hand on his chest as both of you stared at each other, eyes, lips, taking in the other’s untamed beauty. It was a moment suspended in time, entering your shared bubble back in what felt like months of craving.

Changbin went right back, biting your bottom lip, trailing lustful kisses down your neck, taking your and his clothes off as if they burned, nonchalantly throwing them elsewhere.

“So good, my cute little bunny… already wet, huh?” He snickered, leaving marks on your neck and trailing dow, playfully biting the inside of your thighs. “Binnie’ll make ya feel s’good.”

His kisses started to get closer and closer to your core, making your sigh impatiently, whimpering. He cooead at you, and planted a teasing kiss on your cunt.

You squirmed on your place. “B-binnie…!”

“Shhh, bunny. S’okay.” Changbin smirked slyly, dragging his tongue on you in languid strokes. He grunted when you started moaning louder, your hands now in his hair, his mouth spread wide on you.

As you started babbling in pleasure, he started making out with your sloppy cunt more vigorously, tugging at your thighs, like he wanted to be crushed by them.

“Y’know, fuck…” he moans, and it travels all through your body. “when ya said I was a desperate lil’ bitch… fuck… made me so horny…”

He stared at you from in between your legs. “Binnie’s such a desperate slut for bunny, huh?”

He spread you open with two slender finger, moaning just by feeling how small you are and how you clenched around his fingers, imagining how tight you'd be around him, and he started grinding against the matress unconciously.

He stops grinding when you moan his name and grasp his hair, and lets you ride his face as you reel in pleasure.

You whine when his kisses get too intense and he comes up, his arousal all over his lips and chin, kissing you with all tongue and teeth, allowing you to taste yourself.

“We’ll keep going in the morning,” he panted. “Can’t have enough of you.” Changbin murmured against your neck, falling asleep with you.

~kats, who wrote this while blasting ‘careless whisper’ on her headphones just to see how far she could take it.

THINK I DID OK AS MY FIRST ACTUAL SMUT?!

206 notes · View notes

mingirn · 1 year

Text

tell me it's love

mark lee x reader

genre: smut, some angst and fluff

warnings: dry humping, cumming untouched, childhood best friends to fuck buddies, unrequited love, hidden feelings

word count: 3.6k

notes: first nct fic kinda nervous. there will be a part 2 to this i already have most of it written i just got scared it’d be too long LMFAO

”Do you like it better like this? Or, wait- like this?”

Mark is sitting on his floor in front of the full-length mirror he’d demanded help from both you and Johnny to put up. He’s messing with his hair, it’s been a while since he’s gotten a haircut and this is a new routine. He’ll sit in front of the mirror, arranging his bangs to lay across his forehead, or pushing them back, parting his hair in the middle and on each side, asking for your opinions.

”Mark,” you sigh. ”You keep asking this, but then you still wear your hair like you always do anyways.”

”Yeah, but… it looks stupid, doesn’t it?”

You haven’t even bothered to look up at him. You don’t need to in order to predict what he’ll look like, it’s the 4th night in a row now and you’ve seen it all. Instead, you keep your eyes on your book.

”If it bothers you so much, why don’t you cut it?” you ask.

”And ask Yuta again? After last time? It took me three months to grow that tragedy out, no way!” He breathes out something between a sigh and a groan and slumps down on the floor with a thud.

”Then stop complaining.”

Mark protests with an overblown sigh, but offers no rebuttal. Your focus shifts back to your book now, getting lost in the plot while Mark lies in silence on the floor. His dorm room is nicely lit, glowing warmly from his night lamp and a few fairy lights he’s got set up. The campus has that usual 10 pm quiet, and you know you should drag yourself back to your own dorm room soon but Marks bed is just so nice and soft, and your book is just getting good, and it is Friday.

”You got any space for me up there?” Mark asks, already making his way up and without waiting for your answer he’s climbing onto the bed.

You huff a little from the sudden disruption, but this is also pretty much routine, and Mark quickly finds a resting spot for his head on your shoulder.

”Still the same one?” he asks, as if it isn’t obvious.

”Yeah. If you’d stop distracting me, I might actually be able to finish it sometime.”

It’s Marks turn to huff now. He lays in silence next to you for a while, though it's all but peaceful. Mark always fidgets, he just always seems to be buzzing with something. There are these pressures and expectations packed tightly under his skin and a brain that never seems to shut off. It's Friday, he's got two days of rest ahead of him, yet you know he's probably already going through the schedule for next week in his head.

"Mark," you say, softly and silently.

"Mm?"

"You're squirming."

"Oh, sorry," he apologizes, sounding more like he's sighing. He runs his hand over his face, as if to reset, then sighs again.

You ponder for a moment. Then you speak, "Remember when we got drunk like two weeks ago? I threw up in your bathroom and afterward you read to me to keep me from freaking out."

Mark hums.

"What if- do you want to lay in my lap? You could read to me, and I'll play with your hair. Maybe it'll relax you," you suggest.

"Mhm, yeah, that'd be nice.." he murmurs. He lets you scoot yourself up to make space for him, with the way you're sat against the wall. He lays the side of his head down on your thigh, grabbing your book and bracing it against your leg so that he can easily turn the pages.

"Should I just start here?" he asks.

"At the second paragraph," you tell him.

He clears his throat and starts reading. The back of his head is turned towards you, like this you can brush your fingers through the thick of his hair. Mark sounds sleepy, his voice is low and warm, sounding very soft as he reads out loud. If his hair didn't feel so nice in your hands you think you could fall asleep right here, lulled by only his voice.

His hair really has gotten long. It's been a long time since he's dyed it too, there's some brown left at the tips but most of it is his natural color by now. You card your fingers through it, pressing at his scalp and feeling him melt in your hands.

This is what you like best, you think. Times like these, when it's quiet around you and it feels like no one exists but you and Mark. Like this, like the warmth of his cheek against your leg, the soft strands of hair between your fingers, the sound of his voice filling your head.

Your eyes start to drift a little, first following the sight of his dark hair falling from your hands, then down to his neck, then over the expanse of his shoulders. You rarely let yourself do this, to just look at him. You've convinced yourself that letting your eyes linger on him for more than a few seconds would tell on you. Like he'd be able to look into your eyes and little confessions would float in your irises, that he'd know just from looking that you're in love with him. With his back against you like this you feel shielded, you can let yourself look.

He’s wearing a thin shirt with a wide neckline, it almost hangs off of his shoulders and you’re struck with the need to just touch him. It's like a silent bet, you dare yourself to move your hand down just a little. The tips of your fingers ghost down the back of his neck where his skin is fully exposed. Mark twitches, and you get scared for just a moment, wanting to pull back, worrying that his body is alarmed at your touch. But you keep your hand in place, and he lets you.

His skin is warm under your hand, and there’s still a sliver of bare skin underneath your hand, so you trail your fingers down, all the way to where the hem of his shirt is hanging.

Something in the room shifts. Marks voice stutters and he sucks in a deep breath of air. You can hear it hitch in his throat, and you expect him to ask you what you're doing, for the illusion to break. But he does nothing, just squares his shoulders to lean into your touch.

You keep it light, dragging your fingertips up and down his back, staying outside of his shirt. It's thin enough that you can still feel the heat of his body through the fabric. You can also feel the way his ribs rise and fall with each breath he takes, how it's becoming faster.

Suddenly, Mark stops reading. He draws another deep breath, and from what you can see of his face you notice his eyes fluttering shut. There's a long silent moment where it feels like time stands still. The only thing that is happening, the single action taking place while the rest of the universe stops is Mark turning towards you.

And surely he must know, then. He's looking into your eyes, and doing nothing to avert from them. In absolute silence, he grabs your hand and lays it on his chest. You wonder if the universe has resumed moving yet, or if time is still only yours and Marks.

Mark closes his eyes again, and he squeezes your hand. His instruction is wordless, but you understand it nonetheless. Touch me, he urges.

You gather the courage to move your hand down, coming over the muscles that make up his chest. He’s almost feverishly warm, and you can feel his chest move with every labored breath. You've never touched him like this before, flattening your hand over his stomach and moving over every little inch of his torso. You're really taking him in, learning what he feels like, how defined his muscles are, how broad his chest is.

Marks mouth falls open, and he lets out a low, quiet moan. It heats you, like this hot flash that shoots through your body and makes your chest tighten. It's so bright and hot that it knocks the wind out of you.

Moving solely on instinct, just this thoughtless and desperate urge, the sight of his parted lips has you trailing your hand up his chest, and then along the column of his neck to end up at his mouth. You tap the pad of your pointer finger against his lips once, to test the waters. Mark pouts, chasing your touch. You abide, tracing your finger over his bottom lip and feeling his hot breath against your finger.

”You’re so pretty, Mark,” you tell him. You're not even thinking. Your hands move on their own and so does your mouth.

His eyes open again, so heavily lidded, and for a moment you think he’s about to say something. That maybe his eyes will sharpen and he's going to snap out of this illusion. Instead, he sits up. His gaze is focused on you and there still isn't a hint of hesitation or distress in his eyes.

”Please,” he pleas, only that.

You pat his shoulder, ”What, please? What do you want?”

”I want to kiss you.”

Mark blinks, looking down at your lips as he says it. You should probably stop to ask him if he means it, if it’s just a heat of the moment thing, but he’s so beautiful, and so eager, and his eyes still have not left your mouth. You just lean forward, connecting your lips with his and Mark kisses you back in an instant.

Whatever first kisses are supposed to be, you're sure this isn't it. In the books you read they describe the fireworks, the instant passion and how their lips just meld together. With Mark it's clumsy, he makes contact with the corner of your mouth and pulls back too quickly, then kisses you again before you've regained your breath. You can feel your heart pound in your chest and you swear Mark can hear it, and you wonder if his heart is doing the same. The very tips of your fingers feel cold, your entire body is filled with a heat so warm it's paralyzing and all you can think about is the fact that Mark is still kissing you.

He's not pulling away. He kisses you, again, and again, and again. It makes your heart surge, the fact that he isn't scared off by how awkward it is at first. The possibility of what that means rushes through you like a wave but you forbid yourself to ruminate on it now.

Whatever first kisses are, this isn't it, but it's infinitely better.

Marks hands come up to your neck, curling around the back of it so that he can pull you impossibly close as he parts his lips, swiping his tongue along yours. You have to part for air but he hardly lets you, with the way he keeps his lips just close enough to be ghosting yours.

"Touch me," he whispers into the kiss.

You’re not exactly sure where he wants you, but he releases a satisfactory hum when you trace your hands down over his chest. He leans his forehead against yours and you can feel his breath come out hot and short against your mouth. Spurred on by the moment, you trail your hands even lower to lift the hem of his shirt to touch his bare hips. He gasps at the contact, and a whine builds in the back of his throat, so quiet that you’d be unable to catch it if he wasn’t so close.

He's right above you, closer than he's ever been before and he guides you to lie down. He's laying on top of you now, pressed against you so that you can feel him everywhere. Your hands are frantic under his shirt, rushing to feel every inch of him. Quiet moans continue to slip past his lips the more you touch him, and you wish to swallow them all up.

”Take my shirt off,” he mumbles, barely parting from your lips to speak. It's already hiked up his torso, all you need to do is bring it over his head and your hands tremble when he sits back to let you take it off.

You watch him, breathless, as he sits shirtless in front of you. His hair is messy, ruffled by the shirt and he shakes his head to get it to fall pretty again. Mark leaves little time for you to take in the sight of him bare before he's kissing you again, this time far more passionately.

Somewhere in the haze of it all you've spread your legs, and Mark has positioned himself between them. His hands are as rushed as yours, moving over your thighs and the side of your ass, squeezing at your hips, feeling you everywhere he can. Mark whines, letting out these desperate sounds into your mouth that only quiet down when you wrap your legs around his hips and press him against your body.

Everything about it is needy, neither of you can get enough. Marks hands are everywhere, tangling his fingers into your hair, caressing your face, cradling your jaw, wrapped around your neck. It's like you're making up for all the time you haven't had each other like this. A million touches laced into this one hand on his naked torso, so many words spoken in this total silence.

Mark pulls away, moving to trail kisses over your jaw. A spot in the junction of your ear and jaw makes you gasp once he kisses it, and Mark smiles. He lets out this satisfied chuckle, and there's still a smile on his lips when he puts his mouth on your neck again. He sucks your skin into his mouth, letting his teeth grace ever so slightly against your neck. His mouth feels so good on you, it has little gasps and moans spilling from your mouth. Embarrassment makes you silence them as best you can, but Mark seems dedicated to making you even louder.

He starts to leave open-mouthed kisses down your neck, stopping sometimes to suck your skin into his mouth. He falters by a spot right above your collarbone, just where your shoulder starts, where he sinks his teeth into the flesh. Your body just melts, and you feel weightless, only whispering out his name under hushed breaths.

"Hm, you okay?" he asks, breaking away from the kiss. He comes up to your face again, close like before, where his breath tickles your mouth.

"What?" you ask, before you realize where his concern has come from. "Oh, yeah, yeah. More than okay. You?"

"Me? I'm okay," he laughs. Your heart is beating out of your chest, and your fingertips have still not returned to their normal temperature. It's still the same Mark looking back at you right now, the one you knew as a child, the Mark you've spent every milestone of a lifetime with.

The way he looks at you is new though. His eyes flit from your eyes to your mouth, it makes him look dazed in a way.

"Do you.. do you want to?" He doesn't finish the question. He moves towards you ever so slightly, still focused on your lips. He barely waits for the little time it takes you to rush out a 'yeah, yeah, please' until his lips are back on yours and his hands return to your body.

Something inside of you clicks, bringing you back to reality instead of the swimming fantasy in your head. You become aware of the weight of him above you, and the fact that his lips taste like buttercream chapstick. You can feel his hands on you, fingertips chancing to go underneath your shirt. It has taken until now for you to realize that his hips are pressed against your own, and with your legs wrapped around him, he's so close, so fucking close that through all the layers of clothing, you can still feel that he's hard.

Just the feeling of it has your legs squeezing around him, without really meaning to you push yourself against him. Your stomach swirls and tightens and your own arousal builds as Mark starts grinding himself against you.

”Oh my god, what the fuck," his breath shudders, words spoken into a kiss.

He's not even making direct contact with you but it still feels so fucking good. Marks hand is under your shirt now, his soft fingers tracing your naked skin. His touch feels so good on your body, and he's starting to angle his hips in just the right way, so you can feel his dick right where it feels good.

His voice is hushed and strained, pulling away from you to rest his head in the crook of your neck while he moans your name. You're probably making too much noise, the walls are thin and you worry that anyone walking by would be able to hear the noise inside Marks room. It's only a fleeting thought, easily silenced by Mark groaning, deep and low, so that you can feel the vibrations in his chest.

"Mark, Mark," you whine. He lifts his head and looks at you, but his hips keep moving. "Kiss me, please."

He leans in for a clumsy kiss, his mouth clashing with yours. It's messy, all tongue and teeth, but you can hardly care when his hips rut against yours and his breathing is becoming more jagged. You wish he'd keep kissing you, but when he pulls back and only looks at you, it doesn't matter. You're too enamored by him, watching every microexpression on his face and reveling in his beauty, and what that means for your friendship is something you’re not willing to unpack now.

It feels almost infinite, cosmic in a way, this very second that Mark stares into your eyes. His lips are parted and his eyes are still heavily lidded, there's a blush dusting his cheeks that's spreading all the way down his neck and chest.

"Baby," he gasps, leaning his forehead against yours. His hips stutter, getting faster and needier. He stutters, "Fuck, I'm- I'm gonna cum."

Words shouldn't do this much. His voice shouldn't be enough to make you feel like you could cum untouched but it is, and he keeps mumbling your name the closer he gets.

It's all a haze, your head is just filled with Mark, Mark, Mark and his voice seems to fill every space within you. You can't tell if you cum first or if he does, it's only moments before you're both grabbing onto each other and it feels like there isn't enough air in the world with how breathless you both become. Mark puts his lips to yours, too distracted to kiss but desperate enough that he needs you close.

You feel it out to your very fingertips, and it takes a second for the ringing in your ears to stop and for the air to return to your lungs. Mark is slowing his hips down, riding it out, and he finally kisses you.

The kiss is far too tender and careful for a moment like this. He’s so gentle, just brushing against your lips at first. His hand comes up to the back of your head, burying in your hair as he pulls you in even closer. You drag your hands along the sides of his torso, then curling around his shoulders in a hug.

"Mark," you try to say, muffled by his kiss.

"Mm, what?"

"We have to get cleaned up," you speak, sort of quietly. Part of you somehow believes that there's a barrier to be broken, like if you raise your voice something will exit the room and take this moment with it.

Mark lets out an exaggerated groan as he rolls off of you. The room is still dimly lit, just like before, the sky is still dark outside and you don't understand how everything is exactly the same when you aren't.

"Hm," he thinks for a moment. "Are you.. staying here, or?"

You suck in a breath. Something about the way he asks it feels kind of loaded. You've slept here before, next to him in this very bed, but something about the tone of his voice makes this feel different.

"Why?" you ask.

"Just cause, like, you'd need to borrow something to sleep in."

"Are you saying you'd make me walk to my room like this if I didn't want to sleep here?" you ask, faking upsetness. "This isn't only my cum, you know."

He looks over at you, at the little wet spot on your sweatpants that matches the one on his own.

"Jesus, yeah, sorry!" he laughs breathily, throwing his arm over his face. The whine in his voice is gone by now, but he's still being playful. Nothing in his tone conveys that he's upset, or that regret has set in. You need to stop dwelling on it though, or the deepest parts of your mind will find something to latch onto to ruin this. You can't think about it, any of it, it’s going to mess you up and you know it.

There's a moment of silence where your eyes fix on the ceiling. You steal little glances to the side, at Marks bare skin. You had just been touching him, your fingertips must be imprinted on some parts of his skin. Right now, the only part of him that is touching you is his pinky against yours. He moves it, just a little, like a twitch, and strokes it over your finger.

"So.. you're staying?" he asks.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm staying."

#queueing this to post while i sleep #mark lee x reader #nct x reader #nct smut #nct imagines #mark lee smut #nct scenarios #[🗒] mine #[📎] mark

1K notes · View notes