#the one who laments au
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Hmm, so today i worked with a bit of horror and this came to me
What if we make the Batman into a cryptid but the cooler kind, the leyend to scare young kids type
Before you write or send a comment, i'm mexican, born and raised, still live there. Thank You.
This came from me thinking about La llorona, a leyend (scary one) here in MĂ©xico and some other parts of latam it seems(?) and it's in short, about a woman whose kids die and she dies from sadness over it, with her eyes drying up from so much crying, becoming a spirit that haunts the world while calling for her children in desperate screams
The reason behind the kids' death changes depending on who you ask, either she killed them or it was an accident, but they die by drowing in all versions, and, as a result of the above, any kid she comes across gets taken away because she mistakes them for her own, they end up dying by her hands too tho (because she thinks they're hers and drowns them, or because she realizes they aren't)
She's also a single mother (the story goes back to the 1500 btw)
And I think Bruce fits this. So. Fucking. Well.
Like, Jason and Dick die, and he becomes this, and then Tim was trying to help him pass from the world but he couldn't and instead became his child too, and the rest followed along, by accident, by choice or not
Can he be a hero here? I don't think so, but, maybe he does care for the children somehow, the ones that he realizes aren't his, that they have parents to go to are the ones he protects
He cares for the people, who are not at fault for his loss, so he protects the city he also haunts
He cares for the nice old man who's never been afraid of him, who gives him a sad smile and who he feels like he knows but all the memories of his life are buried down and forgotten behind his children dying
He might not even want the children he takes to die, it's like the pit rage in canon, it takes over him and they world gets too blurry to think right
And he cares for those kids, he really does, it's not their fault, but there's one he can never remember the name of (Dick) no matter how many times he repeats it
Dick forgave his dad (whatever the reason for their deaths might be) and wanders around him in a nice way, doing his best so all of them can finally pass away
Jason hasn't. He haunts Bruce, most of the episodes where he snatches more kids away are Jason's fault, as he appears and dissapears in front of him, making him believe any kid is his boy, Jason doesn't notice and actually tries to protect other kids.
Steph's 'your not my dad!' call hits harder in this au-
Cass was wandering around town alone, she didn't stand a chance because she couldn't even scream for help. She's like a second shadow to Bruce, always near, always watching, and some who have scaped them swear her eyes never stop looking at you. She might be the only kid who's not mad at him for taking her away
Duke is similar enough, he didn't like the dark, but when there's no other choice is the worst thing that happens.
Damian's tale as a child of his that Bruce originally thought to have died gets worse when he gets taken, reunited but only by death, one that is his dad's fault.
One where Bruce got another one of his kids killed.
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Hoenstly, i'd like to work on this au? If that's like fine?
I'll try to make some designs and maybe like some draws, if i get to, a series of one-shots
Oh, and if you non-latam people want to know more about la llorona, well, there's a kids animated movie :D is called "La leyenda de la llorona" pretty sure you can find it with subtitles (always better than dub tbh) it's part of a saga on mexican leyends too, can watch the others if it calls your attention, they're fun
#batman#batfamily#batman is a cryptid au#bruce wayne#good dad bruce wayne#sort of#also#bad dad bruce wayne#like at the same time#dick grayson#jason todd#damian wayne#tim drake#i should name this au something if i'm working on it#the one who laments au#for now
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Though in think tank:
It's just the two of us (three actually, its a tricycle now)
harringroveson, metalsandwhich
just the two of them wanting the same guy and finding each other
while said guy is trying to be filling. they're having the feels and steve is horny. he's fine though. I'll decide if I can keep this going. they will fuck nasty. in like, the next parts.
Billy Hargrove and Eddie Munson are hooking up. They've got a good thing going on.
They're into each other, they have stuff in common, be it music, the fashion, their preferences. They're fast and quick. Furious and sharp, all teeth when they're together. Get a thrill and kind of comfort with how consistent and similar they could be. They bounce off and work each other to heights. It feels like it's only the two of them, like steel sharpening steel. In this small hick town.
Billy's always felt a lot, even more now he's stuck here. Always ran hot now he's stuck in a chilly, dreary town, used to feel like he could breathe slow and easy out there but not when he's stuck here. And with Eddie. Well, Eddie always wanted more, knows he's made for more. He's flagging half-heartedly in a small town, and now Billy has to tuck himself in. They both always feel bigger on the inside. No one is like them. Not in the way they know.
No one else feels jagged or rough. Neither Eddie nor Billy know anyone who can stop the itch, the aches in their jaw, the tightness.
Enter Steve Harrington. Just, not really.
Now, Steve seemed exactly nothing like either of them. Yes, he's masculine. A man. But he's not.. like them. Not dark or sharp, probably not what either of them would experience, probably doesn't feel like a whirlwind in his body, doesn't scratch. But it doesn't stop either of them from ogling. Shooting the shit with each other, letting out comments and thoughts on guys the've seen. And even if Harrington was open, or experimenting, or anything that would lead preppy jocks astray, he probably wouldn't be any good. Wouldn't be fun, no matter how pretty. No matter how soft.
Billy and Eddie's standards on the anyone in Hawkins, any man they might think of in the sense they'd think of each other. None for now, just them. Clocked each other so fast and collided with each other like a car crash. But both can agree, yeah. Steve's hot.
Billy's been knowing about it, having been hanging out with Steve. Knowing who he is, mostly on the court. Gets a kind of satisfaction being able to push this boy around.
And Eddie, who's there with his comments as they talk, will also have assumptions. He's known the guy longer. (If he ever really knew him. What more do you need when everyone else knows some.)
"Bill, he's just the usual, man." He takes a drag out of his cigarette, leaning on the side of his van. "Harrington. He's just a dude. I mean we're in Hawkins. Pretty boys like him got to be repressed. One way or another."
He scoffs, turning his head to him, eyebrows raised and hands waving vaguely in front of him, "have you seen him with Tommy? Before you came around those two wereâ" he puts up a tight fist and shakes it, like it would mean something. "Y'know? Tommy boy's been trailing after him since eighth grade."
Billy let's out a sharp laugh, stealing Eddie's cigarette, "calling me a homewrecker, Munson?"
"Is it homewrecking when you 'wreck' both parties? You ensnare Tommy away from the King and then you come round to have a chat with Harrington in the showers?" He let's Billy have the cigarette, crossing his arms as he leans in closer, "which, what was that about?"
(Eddie's been in this town, longer than the fresh meat Billy was supposed to be. Has seen the King parading around, stuck in his own little world. Head up in the clouds and not bothering to look down and check if his feet were even touching the ground. Til '83 that is.
It was weird. After Nancy Wheeler, sometime in November with all of them being gone for a while after two people go missing âone was Byers' little brother he remembers, he wasn't sure who the other one was, a girl?âonly to come back with Wheeler on Jonathan Byers side of all places. Sweet and looking at each other like they've found someone who understands. Found someone who knows life outside. As if they knew there'd be more out there.
And Steve. Steve looked settled. Looked normal and still moving even when he looked at either of them, the couple. Like he knows he's small in this stupid town but doesn't feel tight in his own skin. That even though he hasn't found anyone like that, and even lost something he's still fine. That he's seen more and knows better even when he stood still. He's found out about the same things Byers and Wheeler had. Went through the motions. Was just waiting for a pin drop to be able to live. It fascinated, Eddie. He envied it. He scoffs in his mind, what would Steve Harrington know?
Will he ever get to know? The boy and the why?)
Billy rolls his eyes, taking one last drag from his cigarette before putting it out, dropping it on the concrete for hi to stomp, "fucking nothing, Edward."
Not nothing. He heard Eddie and his 'normal dude' rant. But he can't fool Billy. He knows the guy saw the same thing in Harrington he did. He was different and radiant in this stupid town while also fitting in perfectly. He was fucking lame and didn't know a single thing. But. He also knew some things. Makes it seem like the things he knows were life altering
Harrington was an enigma. A person with thoughts and feelings and in some kind of state. He was your average fucking prep. Image obsessed, vain, and so impossibly normal. And a flea who only knows the jar can't jump over the cap. But Steve. It's like he doesn't care. He doesn't know why he only knows this side of The King's rebrand. How he only knows one side to the story. How he knows Tommy and his weird obsession with Steve and how he left, and turned fucking bitch. Acted like he was now bottom of the barrel. But the King (although Billy has a feeling he isn't one anymore) is fine. Acted like dropping his nuclear friend group and demographic was nothing. Which in the grand scheme of things, maybe it wasn't. But it's supposed to be something, to boys like Steve Harrington. He doesn't know why he cares.
"Ouuh, fucking nothing, Edward, blah blah. Also, don't call me that." He huffs. "You're not the only one thirsting, William. Everyone wants, envies, covets at a piece of Steve Harrington. But again, he's just a dude. Hell, I had the hots for him too. Besides," he knocks shoulders with Hargrove, finger going up to flick at his piercing then to loop around a blonde curl.
"Ya got me right now."
Billy looks at him with considering gaze, before smirking. He straightens up off the van, "you wish, freak." He goes round to the back of the van, opening it up, before crawling in.
Eddie grins, scampering off after him. He pushes the both of them obssesed with Steve Harrington bit away from his mind. He's hanging with Billy.
Steve frowns a bit as he sees both men hop into the back of Munson's van. He was just passing by the parking lot. He sighs, scratching his head. He needs to go to another fucking bar. His nightmares are acting up again. Who knew the eerie light of the pool and his own house lights would make him twitch? What a life. He's okay though, pretty sure.
He smiles as he hops in the car. A night in Indy will fix him up. Surely. It always does. (And although Nancy âand Jonathan suprisinglyâ were worried, he assures them both as sweetly as he could that it was definitely not alcoholism. It's either more or less better than they expected. But he's glad his new friends slash two wheels he third wheels slash co-monster fighters were worried.)
As he drives off, he takes a glance at the rear view mirror, before shaking his head. Why would they hook up out in the open, in that back of the guy's van in a parking lot? Sure they could be hotboxing or some shit and smoking the weed in that dweeb Munson's lunchbox but Steve doubts that. With how hot the both of then are and how intensely they were looking at each other they were for sure fucking. He thought at least Hargrove would know better.
"Shame, shame," he shrugs, even though no one can see him, his expression set in 'it is what it is.' He wonders what he should wear and what he should order. He licks his lips and hums happily. He gets to feel alive for the weekend.
#harringrove#steddie#mungrove#harringroveson#stranger things fanfic idea#stranger things au#i just want metal sandwhich#also#metalsandwich#just these two dudes being with each other thinking about that one guy they're weirdly obsessed with#then thinking they're the only two people who would understand each other i a way that would soothe them#and genuinely thinking that this perfect man might fix them when they know they dont have chance#said 'normal guy' has experienced horrors and in this au: thought breaking up w his gf and sucking dick would fix the aforementioned horror#now at least he's figured himself out#im talking about steve btw#while these two metalheads are lamenting and confiding each other in a battle kf longing and companionship#steve lowkey highkey wanna bang#steve 'im just a dude' harrington#the think tank writing#charl's got thoughts#steddie fanfiction
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I canât believe I have to say this again.
But like.
Do not leave comments that bash on the actual show whilst âcomplimentingâ my fanworks. It does not make me happy at all IN FACT I really HATE it when people do that.Â
I create stuff for this fandom because I adore the show with all its flaws and everything. I grew up with the show and I adore the characters so much. So when I receive comments or tags saying stuff like âUgh if only the writers knew how to write like thatâ or âYou should be in charge of canon cos canon is shit lolâ, it just fucks up my mood and it makes me feel grossed out.Â
There are millions of things out there to write or say to other people about their work without having to bring down canon and what the actual professionals have worked on.
Keep your gripes about the show off my work.
#miraculous ladybug#miraculous ladybug and chat noir#ml fandom salt#i've been getting too many of this crap for years and some of them just get too personal#like for example in one of my AUs for fun i had marinette be able to speak chinese in a different dialect#and i had someone who praised me for it BUT bashed on the show for making marinette clueless about mandarin#which kinda pissed me off cos like#i have chinese in me but don't speak any of the languages there so does that mean i'm invalid too? lol#and in one of my recent writing i had someone lament that they wished i was writing for the show#like okay i know you mean it in a good way and you're not directly bashing the show#but the reason i can get away with creating and characterising the way i do is because i am working on them all ALONE#with no zag or money or producers getting in the way#and the stuff i create is always aimed to an audience that#is at least 15 years old#anyways if i keep going the tags will be longer than the river thames#my point is#keep your gripes private or off of other people's work#i wanna hear about what you LIKE about what i've created#not what the show has failed to do for you and whining about it
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Appearing in FNaF World, Cassidy just kind of... popped out of a pond, and was very confused. So was everyone else.
She went down into the one that OMC was fishing at when the two were chatting, and popped out of a FNaF World pondâand was greeted by a confused Dee Dee and Freddy.
Theyâre both confused, and asking her questionsâbut sheâs still just as confused as them. What is she supposed to say?
#Not a quote#Cassidyâs Lament#FNaF AU#After the meeting one of the others is just rushing to where Fredbear is like-#Spring Bonnie: Fredbear!|Fredbear: Yeah w-|Spring Bonnie: Someone who looks a bit like you just surfaced from a pond. She seems confused.#Spring Bonnie: You should probably go and tal-|Fredbear (snickering): Spring. Spring Bonnie.|Spring Bonnie: ...What?#Fredbear: I shouldnât meet her- I have the best idea for a prank. You gotta listen to me-#Save tag#Cassidy#The Vengeful Spirit#And so itâs genuinely just like âYeah Fredbear canât meet you because everything will be destroyed if the two of you meet- so today...#â...Iâll be your guideâ#FNaF
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Another uncommon shipping I think would work is Sonia and Nagito. She seems very pleased the way his eyes lit up during the trial like hers do during horror movies and she stuck up for him later on too. Iâm a little afraid of him having that much power thoughâŠ
Ahaha I actually had an au for them post-graduation in a non-despair time in which Nagito is traveling to Novoselic after having won a cruise trip there. And, though he would have avoided long travel, considering that his old classmate happened to be ruling said kingdom, Nagi thought heâd take the risk in order to get a chance to see her in action (plus heâs wanted to see the kingdom after learning so much about it through Sonia). Surprisingly nothing too catastrophic happens on the way and Nagito has a pleasant time taking in the sights. However, he starts noticing that not everything is rainbows and sunshine in Novoselic, and in fact many of its citizens seem rather displeased by the current government. This becomes all too clear when, during a public appearance/announcement made by none other than Sonia herself, Nagito overhears copious jeers towards the princess and even has to step in to stop someone from throwing a shoe at herâthe scene causing Nagitoâs presence in the kingdom to be known to Sonia. Sonia has a guard escort Nagito to her home, feeling utterly embarrassed of having him witness such a thing. It doesnât take long for her to come clean of Novoselicâs troublesâmore specifically the staggering amount of people who find her inadequate to rule and are opposed to her upcoming coronation. Sonia admits that sheâs been lost in what to do ever since her parents sudden passing and feels sheâs starting to agree with her citizenâs thoughts of being a failure of a ruler. Sheâs truly considering giving the crown to her cousin whom some of the citizens are supporting. Nagitoâs heart went out to her, knowing fully well the feeling of losing oneâs parents so unexpectedly, but to also be expected to lead a nation right after? My god the amount of stress must be astounding. To see the Ultimate Princess thisâŠbrokenâŠit was blasphemous. And like hell heâs going to let her give up her crown and fall to despairânot if he can do anything about. So, Nagito offers his services. He reminds Sonia of what great things sheâs done and is capable of doing, but what she really needs is supportâsomeone on her corner. And though he may be a lowly nobody, he DOES understand a thing or two about politics (and manipulation). Heâll be her shoulder to cry on so she can turn to her citizens with a collected and confident face. Heâll be her test run when sheâs unsure of an idea. Heâll be her eyes and ears to keep track of the masses and their tidying. Heâll be her anything and everything she needs in order to be the best beacon of Hope she can be. And my god does he really mean it.
Of course, this au wasnât simply going to be a hurt/comfort with a happy ending. Oh no, no, not with Nagito. It would soon get twisted and quite complicated as many things do with him. And their ever intertwining relationship will set Sonia forth as a queen that Novoselic with surely remember.
Oh my god this ask really unlocked these old ass memories of this au that I legit just came up with after listening to Imagine Dragonâs âEnemyâ once âïž I was like âbut what if Nagito becomes Soniaâs advisor and makes her Novoselicâs most notorious ruler??â I didnât think I still remembered this much of it but here we are lol
#I once again lament the fact that I do not have the attention span to write a multichap fic#this would definitely have been a slow burn--them slowly bonding especially over their dead parents#the mutual attraction growing#would have been rated: E for every time we touch I get this (sexual) feeling#i just imagine likeâŠMahiru visiting Novoselic as a photo journalist and then#being flabbergasted at seeing Nagito as Soniaâs advisor#she arrives later as the voice of reason to try to make Sonia notice#how manipulative he is and how questionable some of her actions are#but Mahiru is an outsider too and doesnât always know the full situation#nor know how hard it is to rule an entire kingdom that still has group of people#who disliked your existence even before taking the crown and have attempted to assassinate you#there would be so much drama lololol#I think I had two endings: one where Sonia and Nagi end up together as King and Queen and have a relatively happy ending#and another that ends tragically with the citizens revolting and taking Soniaâs life a la 18th century France#im so sorry if you wanted an analysis this au just kindaâŠtook overâŠ#nmbh0051#danganronpa#komaeda nagito#sonia nevermind#sonagito#fala replies#a e i o queue
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maglor's second run as high king regent (while elrond tries to figure out who gil galad is even related to):
Elrond: Hey.
Maglor: What do you want?
Elrond: So, Gil-Galad died.
Maglor: And?
Elrond: We need a new king.
Maglor: Absolutely not.
#silm#silmarillion#maglor#elrond#gil galad#i hc gil galad is actually maglors kid from his rather short-lived marriage#(neither of them know it bc maglor sent gil away when he was little + name change at the havens)#anyways maglor is Not Happy but elrond promised all he had to do was sit there and basically pretend like the noldor were somewhat intact#he didnt even bother to put the crown on properly lol#hes taken to draping himself awkwardly over various furniture and singing the noldolante at the top of his lungs until someone removes him#he knows what furniture is best for dramatically lamenting on from his first regency#when people start mentally filtering out his current song he switches either to a twelve-hour lament#an equally long lay#or valian pop songs#he bit the last three people who tried to make him do actual politics#ooh imagine a lotr-era au where maglor is the high king of the noldor#its sort of a figurehead position because there are like four and a half noldor left#one is maglor#one is galadriel (who has her own kingdom and has been living w the sindar for 8000 years and also still hates him)#one is glorfindel and the other is erestor#the half is elrond#and since glorfindel refuses to follow a feanorian the only person high king maglor really rules over is erestor the librarian#but! sauron doesnt know that! he just knows that there is at least one high king attending the council of elrond#bonus points if celeborn and/or galadriel claim the sindarin throne#bc elrond doesnt want it and celeborn is the oldest on the elmo side (elmo > galadhon > celeborn)#and galadriel is the oldest on the olwe side (olwe > earwen > galadriel)#actually since olwe is older does that mean galadriel can be the sindarin high queen? or does it not count bc teleri#although teleri dont have a separate high king i think so maybe?#unsure whether the sindarin throne is male line only since it does skip luthien but it also skips daeron because both of them ran away#anyways
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Minotaur!König x Ariadne!Reader Theseus is dead. Youâre escorting the Minotaur, more beast than a man, out of the Labyrinth. The problem is, he seems to be more interested in whatâs between your legs than in his mission of killing the notorious king of Crete⊠(12 k. Minotaur is not an actual hybrid in this fic. Reader is Hecateâs initiate. Part 1 here.) Tags/warnings: Shameless smut mdni, dubious consent, extremely possessive behaviour, abduction, first time (König & reader are both virgins), hugs & cuddles, washing blood off your monster boyfriend, awkward flirting, semi-rough sex, shifting power dynamics, sexist insults & slurs (the citizens of Crete do not approve of your choices), implied cannibalism, fluffy ending. Mythical AU.
The candle goes out before you reach the surface.
To someone else, it would be the end of the world: to you, itâs only a hindrance, a nuisance, mostly.Â
Youâre not easily distressed. If you were, you wouldnât be in the service of the greatest goddess of the Underworld. And youâre not mourning losing the sight of your warmly illuminated beast... Youâre only worried about what he will do once the darkness descends. Whether he will forget about his vow, whether the baser instincts take over him once the darkness falls.
And darkness is not capable of making you lost: you can always follow the string in your hand. But without light, itâs difficult to predict the Bullâs moves: whether he decides to maim or fuck you against the wall, you can never tell. He hasnât lived in the real world among people; he doesnât know whatâs right or wrong and whatâs expected of him. Even the best of men can succumb to the demands of the flesh, so what power would a Bull Man have against his animal wants? No one ever taught him to respect the gods, let alone the maidens who serve them...
Then again, if a simple candle was the only thing that kept you alive, then whatâs the point of lamenting the loss of it? Your life was already forfeit when you chose to descend here.
So you let it go: as always, the greatest lesson in life is to simply let go. Of control, of judgment, of fear, of hope.Â
He doesnât say a thing when the light flickers, then fades. The candle goes out in silence, and you let it drop before the remaining wax burns your palm.
And itâs not the absence of light, but strength, that forces you on your knees before even an hour has passed. Thereâs still a long way to go, and the yarn is like a thin string of hope in your hand, but youâre too exhausted, too worn out, too hungry and too tired to go on.
The Bull Man doesnât object to your suggestion to lay down and sleep for a while. He has walked behind you in silence the whole day. Or night⊠You canât tell the difference; you lost count somewhere along the way down here. The air is stale and humid, and thereâs no torch, not a single candle anywhere and even if there were, you wouldnât do anything with them without a flint.Â
The horror is kept at bay only through your numerous exercises with the goddess who introduced you to darkness many, many moons ago. You were initiated during the dark Moon, the new Moon, the blood Moon, introduced to the mysteries of the maiden, mother and crone, to the secrets of both the living and the dead. Youâre not afraid, but your body still warns you of danger: you just donât know if itâs a memory from childhood or a reaction to the Bull, panting behind you â out of lust or exertion, you donât even know. Someone who wasnât a maiden probably could tell⊠At times, you curse the fact that there hasnât been a single phallus inside you because men too possess knowledge. Taking a man into your bed would have initiated you to a different set of mysteries, but now, you are poking blind.Â
The Bull Man is an animal, you remind yourself. The longer you stay in his company, the more he starts to resemble a human, even if he is a man of few words. How he even remembers them is another mystery: you thought he was sent down here as a young boy. He speaks oddly but eloquently, a remnant of his noble descent, perhaps. Or perhaps he has listened to the people speaking in the Labyrinth, eavesdropped his victims an hour or two before killing them. Whatever the reason, you have to constantly tie your tongue because thereâs simply no point in talking to a beast. The less you know about him and his past, the better.
You ready yourself for sleep, but the cursed cold of the tunnels keeps your body awake. Your flesh is human even if your mind is forged to withstand hunger, thirst and pain. Endurance against cold was never your strong suit, and you miss the heat of the sun, the warmth of it on your skin, even the ample light it gives. You, a lover of the moon, missing the heat of Apollo⊠Itâs a joke, surely.
On the stone floor, itâs even colder, the rough, damp ground making your very bones ache. How on Hecateâs name has the beast survived this place?
âBull Man,â you speak into the darkness, thick like an impenetrable wall and thin like a virginâs veil.
âMaiden,â he echoes with a dark, low growl, slightly amused by the name youâve selected for him.
âAre you cold?â You whisper.
Perhaps he doesnât quite understand the question or why you asked it. It doesnât matter: you have to swallow your pride and ask for his help if youâre going to survive this dark prison.
âI donât get cold,â he finally responds.
âGood. I need your heat.âÂ
The silence drags on, and you fear he has misunderstood you again, but then he speaks again, with the same slightly amused tone as before.
âCome take it.â
Youâre not sure if youâve completely lost your mind, crawling to him through the uneven floor of the Labyrinth. Who knows what he will do to you once he gets those arms of iron around you? Youâre placing your maidenhood, your whole body at his mercy. And youâre not even sure if itâs a he, if this thing is human at all.Â
Human or animal, your hand meets the bullâs head on the way to him. He has taken it off, then... Itâs not a part of him, just like you suspected. Maybe he is just a giant, daunting man, born from whatever forbidden desire Pasiphae had. Who knows if she only went to a foreign loverâs arms when her husband was at war? Who knows if King Minos has trouble getting his phallus up⊠These things happen: women get pregnant from their lovers, they do desperate things to pacify their husbands. And you donât need a bull to get yourself an heir...
You feel his heat before you feel his skin: the Minotaur is verily blazing. He has gotten used to the cold, it seems, his body like a small bonfire in the clammy tunnel.Â
âCold little female,â he comments when you snuggle towards him shyly, thoroughly aware of the uninviting chill of your body.Â
You settle next to him, every muscle in your body tight like a bowstring, your breaths shallow when he gives you a welcoming rumble. Goosebumps prickle across your skin and your throat goes dry, the thick swallow in the tunnel echoing around you like a thief.
Arms like iron go around you, and his body is taut, just like yours, but for a whole different reason entirely. Heâs not afraid or nervous; heâs just⊠big. Pure muscle, his whole body thick, the stock and heat of him remind you of the sun. A miniature sun down here in these dark tunnels, but while you start to slowly soften in his arms, a different threat is already emerging. It doesnât take long before his cock stiffens against you, and with the scarce clothing you both have, you can feel its every excited twitch.
Artemis⊠Protect me from this beast. Turn him into a dog if he tries to penetrate me. Let him rip my throat insteadâŠÂ
Youâve never prayed to the Virgin Goddess; you donât know if she can even hear you from down here. But Hecate would only laugh if this Bull decided to breed you. No mercy would arrive from that direction: she would either send a disease of blisters upon the Minotaur for touching her chosen or then she would cackle like an old woman, thousand times raped.
âThank you,â you whisper, hoping your kindness will distract him from whatâs happening downstairs.
âMy pleasure,â he grumbles, mimicking the words he probably heard as a child in his fatherâs great hall.Â
It sends a chill down your spine and butterflies into your heart to hear him speak like a polite man of court. And again, you think of asking him about his childhood... His mother, his father, the things he remembers from the surface. How he survived here without water, if there are underground springs here somewhere. Whether he eats humans like they say... If he ever embraced the dead women he killed.Â
âCan you do it again,â he rumbles against you, cutting you away from your grotesque thoughts.
â...Do what again?âÂ
âTouch me⊠With your hand.â
His words are blunt now, his speech clumsy. But the way he says it is not an order. Itâs an odd beg, more like. Laced with hope and wishes far away from greed. This Bull is never greedy, per se⊠Heâs just lacking. Starved, for so many things that you fear thereâs not enough time nor kindness to give him what he needs.
Your pulse flutters when you slowly lift your hand and caress the strong cords of muscle that make his neck. The rumbling returns; it turns into a low purr as the beast relaxes under your touch. Something softens inside you when he sighs from relief. His unbridled happiness tugs at your heart, trying to yank open something forbidden. Itâs the softest violation youâve ever felt: to be held by a giant killer having a roaring erection, while the said killer clearly enjoys your caress like itâs the touch of Aphrodite herselfâŠ
You even stroke his face. His jaw, unclenching under your touch; his cheek, covered with what you suppose is simply a wild, overgrown beard.Â
âYour hand,â he groans softly, âmakes me sleepy and warmâŠâ
The cold, uncaring goddess recedes. The burdens of past, present and future dissolve. Softness takes place in your heart; the iron locks give in like brittle brass. A smile plays on your lips as you continue to pet him softly, lulling you both to sleep with your voice.
âThen sleep, Bull of Crete...â
âŠ
You wake up to his cock pressing against you.
Not against your stomach like when you went to sleep â that you could do with â but against your cunt, barely veiled by the thin linen of your dress.
The panic is soon wrestled down with reason: you tell yourself itâs just a cock. Itâs just him. Youâre simply in the Minotaurâs arms, and heâs sound asleep still; thereâs no reason to buck and jerk and scream.Â
The darkness feels like a safe womb now, but with nothing to lock your gaze to, you have to take a moment to ground yourself into reality. And the first thing you ground into is a thick cockhead, pressing fast into your nether lips. Heâs practically at the gates, and youâre lucky heâs still asleep.
Itâs perhaps your fault this happened in the first place: you notice youâve dragged your thigh over his hip; as if wanting him to fuck you in your sleep⊠You embrace him like Helen of Troy, and he holds you through his sleep like a man in love, perfectly content with napping on the cold ground with you.
âMmâŠâ The beast stirs, probably noticing how the female in his arms is tense as a rod. âYou smell like you want to fuckâŠâ
âNo I donât,â you hurry to whisper.
Gods curse this manâs ability to smell everything from miles away. Blood and humans and, apparently, a woman at her most receptive.Â
What if he can actually smell the wetness between your legs?
âWe need to go,â you slowly remove your leg from on top of his waist, hoping it would go unnoticed that you were clutching him like a lover. You have no such luck: he grabs your thigh and draws it back, sets it safe and snug around his waist while adjusting his grip on you, now hugging you entirely like a lover would.
âI want to mate with you,â he says softly. âYou want to mate too. Why go?â
He sounds so adorable when heâs still in the process of waking up to a new day. Drowsy and sweet, voice husky from sleep, body warm as can be, the hard-on between his legs happy and stiff.
âI thought you wanted to kill the king,â you try to point out.Â
âThis is more important,â he gruffs. âUrgent.â
The cock pushes further up and against you, now spreading your folds under the dress, trying to penetrate into your heat. Your eyes go wide as thick need pools down to meet his greed. His body, his cock makes your head go dull for a moment; you feel like youâre not even capable of thinking actual thoughts.
âNo, itâs not. We need to get up.â
You stiffen in his arms, push yourself away, and to your surprise, he actually lets you go. Reluctantly and with a hollow grunt, but he lets you go.Â
You rise with a wobble, and adjust your dress, your head spinning from his advances. You swear he becomes more man-like every day, every passing hour, even. Or is it just you whoâs changingâŠ?Â
The Bull Man is up before you get to ponder on that thought for too long. Your heart and head struggle to find their footing for a moment, your legs are so weak you feel like fainting. He catches you before you fall, the warm, thick arms closing around you with stout affection.
âYou need more heat?â He asks softly.
You look up out of habit, even if you can't see his eyes, covered by the carcass again because his voice is muffled.
âNo⊠Iâm hungry.â
Heâs silent for a moment, probably thinking what he could do to help the situation. You fear he will suggest you go back to visit his âpantryâ and eat whatever horrible, half-rotten man-flesh he might have in store there, but he only holds you close to prevent you from sliding back to the ground.
âHmm. No mice up here,â he ponders.Â
âYou eat miceâŠ?â
âSometimes.â
You leave it at that: you donât want to know what heâs had to do to sustain himself down here. You donât even have a fire to cook the vermin, even if you would be ready to eat even those after another day or two without food.Â
âNot a long way up,â he says. âWe will reach the sun soon. Then Iâll find you something to eat.â
âHow do you know thatâŠ?â
âThe air smells different.â
You sigh and search for the string, your lifeline to the outside world. You canât wait to get out of here, and with both hurry and an odd dread, you hike for what seems like another whole day. Tension, hunger and thirst distort your thoughts, and youâre sure by now that the time flows differently here in the Underworld. With no small amount of pride, you feel accomplished to have survived this place so far. Even gods have had to do some tricks to escape the nether worlds: it is no small feat to charm the Minotaur and then walk out of here unharmed.Â
To your knowledge, youâre the only one who has ever escaped the Labyrinth. You havenât even had time to think about what you will unleash with you⊠The demon that walks on your heels will take his revenge, not only on the king but on the city who threw him here.Â
Well. Itâs their problem now. Minos and Pasiphae simply have to deal with their successor. The world will simply have to deal with the Underworldâs wrath.Â
And oh, how Hecate would laugh if she saw this monster prince of Crete escape his prison because of you â the feared Minotaur set free, only because heâs mesmerized by a woman. You suspect he would have his cock jumping for any girl, though. It's not because you're an exceptional sorceress that he follows you: it's your cunt he's after. And it shouldnât make you feel jealous that he probably gets distracted the moment he sees a better offer walk by.
But it does. In your darkest wishes, you would keep the Bull Man all to yourself. Get him a leash, perhaps... Feed him with your own hands and let him grope you in the dark, watch him go wild from lust when you finally give him access to your cunt.Â
Many would hardly think youâre a virgin if they took a peek inside your head. But the things youâve seen and done, the white bulls youâve slaughtered for the dark Goddess, adorning them with cypress wreaths before slashing their throats open, would turn any woman bleak and twisted like this. For once, you would like to save the bull from slaughter.
When you see the first evidence of light, your body lets out a sigh it has been holding ever since you arrived here. Seeing the sun gives you more strength than any food or meal, and you pick up your pace while the Minotaur behind you begins to hesitate.Â
âItâs too bright,â he says before youâve even walked out of the tunnel, now turning into a vast cave, the entrance to the Labyrinth.Â
You turn around to look and stop in your tracks when you see the fear in his eyes is acute. Itâs mixed with wonder, the curiosity wrestling away doubt slowly but surely. He only needs a little nudge, a gentle pull, an enticing little smile and eyes that he can trust.
âYouâll get used to it soon,â you extend your hand.Â
He takes a step, then another, then another, until he reaches your outstretched fingers, and hand in hand you walk out of the Labyrinth and into the bright morning sun, burning over the kingdom of Crete.
Heâs only a breath away from panicking, but covers it well. You wonder if itâs truly the light thatâs too bright or if the feeling of being so exposed is what makes him so afraid. Clearly, the vast space opening up before him is intimidating.Â
There are grassy plains as far as the eye can see, little hills that dot the horizon, and skies so expansive and bright it must hurt his eyes. Goats are grazing under the sun, trees are bending in the wind, the rustling of leaves and the sound of birds calling him to look in all directions as he tries to make some sense of his surroundings.
âItâs alright,â you give his palm a soft squeeze, and the way he looks there under the sun, so big and powerful and able, and still so utterly lost, is giving you heartache you havenât known since you were a child.
âThereâs⊠so many colours,â he says, looking at the blue summer sky, the deep olive greens, the dirty whiteness of the goats, the flowers upon the grass. A butterfly, flying past, yellow like the citrus that people harvest from a few miles from here. A big blackbird with an orange beak, swooping down to catch a cricket, the slate grey pigeons flying so close to the sun that he has to shield his eyes even if theyâre already safe and sheltered under the bull head.
Seeing his wonder and awe makes you look at the scenery so differently that it burns, it actually hurts: thereâs so much beauty in the world, and you have always taken it for granted. Cursed the rain and the storms, cursed the droughts, cursed the gods for sending down another famine, when in truth, the world was filled with abundance, of colours, of life and joy⊠And all youâve done is worship darkness. Now the darkness is out: itâs standing next to you, watching the view of your mundane everyday life like itâs nothing short of a miracle.
And when you turn back to look at him again, his eyes are upon you.
âWhat?â You ask, freshly caught in your moment of weakness.
âYou are pretty,â he says, eyes wrinkling with delight under the mask.Â
Gods damn himâŠÂ
He doesnât know that human men donât act like this, talk like this, or if they do, thereâs usually something vile involved behind it all. He doesnât know how to play games, he was never introduced to the lies and deceit of the world.
The Bull of Crete only looks at you with soft fondness in his stare â he doesnât understand that he should cover that softness as well if he intends to win. Any woman could put a leash on him before another moon has passed, but he doesnât seem to care. And itâs not even heat or hunger that makes you weak this time... Itâs those eyes, looking at you with more and more warmth.
âNonsense,â you huff without a voice, and turn towards the old road with an adoring bull on your heels.
The cold sigh of the underworld is quickly left behind you as you walk up the old carriage road, nearly grown in with weeds. The Labyrinth is located miles away from civilization, but the people living in these hills are used to the cold cave by now. They trust that the Minotaur will never escape and only turn away their heads and close the doors of their huts when the screaming, crying human sacrifices are delivered to the mouth of the cave. Little do they know that the monster is now looking at their little hills and goats with delight, not bloodlust.
For the Minotaur is fascinated with your world: he has to touch every leaf, every tree, every blade of grass, it seems. The goats are afraid of him, but one small nanny is bold enough to come and sniff his hand. Perhaps it remembers that beings walking on two feet give her apples sometimes, and the giant studies this small white animal with gentle curiosity, allows the goat to smell his hand, only chuckles when the goat gives out a little scoff when she notices there are no treats to be found there.
The vision is more adorable than when youâve seen children play with kittens, and no matter what you do, you canât turn your heart into ice anymore. You were taught that the Minotaur is a monster who enjoys torturing his victims, creatures far more helpless than him. Now you see him watching the she-goat with warm curiosity, rumbling softly inside his helm, far from the ravaging beast that approached you in that tunnel what seems like months ago.
You watch him with tender sadness as he marvels at the sky and remembers how he used to sit in the shade of an olive tree when he was a child. He goes to sit there now and examines how the sun filters through the massive branches of the tree as if trying to recall the memory.Â
He asks questions like: âHow can you humans stand this heat?â or âWhy is there only one road?â and listens to your answers carefully.
He says he can smell the sea, even if the salty water is miles and miles away, and gets curious about whatâs behind that hill, or that one, what about that one⊠You wonder if heâs even interested in killing the king anymore and suggest that he could just forget about this cruel place and buy himself a sea voyage with that expensive sword. He could get rid of his helmet and ask if anyone needs a goat herd or an able-bodied man to help at construction sites or stables; he could get work from the docks any day, sail to Athens or some other big city, forge himself a new life.Â
But he doesnât want to.
He says he has to avenge his mother who always cried when he was little.
More wretched tugs pull at your heart as you approach the city. The lovely summerâs day turns into a nightmare once people see whoâs on his way to the heart of Crete.
You donât understand their screams, not anymore, while only a few days ago you knew they preceded death. The Minotaur doesnât kill anyone, mainly because he doesnât have to. Everyone flees before his wake, people rush to their homes and bar the doors, even soldiers slip away to be with their loved ones or run to warn the king if they have any loyalty left.Â
Youâre left to walk through the marketplace in settling dust and tense silence as the Bull Man explores the abundant samples of food on display. He has to have a taste of everything from all stands, but only after he has offered figs, olives, grain, grapes, grilled meat and fish to you first.
âEat,â he says and shoves a handful of pine seeds your way. âYou were hungry?â
âThis is not the way toââ you ignore the food only through sheer willpower. âThis is not right. People own these things. They sell them at the market, you need to pay for these.â
âPay? With what?â
He looks at you for a moment, unable to recall what money is and how these things are supposed to work. He probably had his motherâs servants bring him everything he needed as a child anyway, so how could he know?Â
âThey will take your hands for stealing,â you try to explain with softly building despair.
âI will take their heads before that.â
âThe next king will hunt you down and punish you,â you rush after him, and when he wonât listen, you seize his hand and finally get him to halt. He looks down at the weak palm around his wrist, then raises his gaze to you.
âBulls donât have kings.â
Your attempts to tame him are futile. The things theyâve taught him to be are now being used as a way to escape responsibility, and while itâs none of your business, you refuse to let him believe that he is nothing more than an animal.
âYou are not a bull,â you wail in frustration. âYouâre a man.â
He hesitates, only for a moment; the gentle, loving gaze makes your legs weak.
âYouâre the first to think that.âÂ
Then he rips himself away from you, softly but sternly.
He doesnât need directions to the palace: he knows he has to head for the most prominent building in the city to reach the king. The grandiose heart of Crete, white-chalked and beautiful under the burning midday sun is the pride of every citizen, even if it houses another monster.
You sigh as you watch him go: the Bull Man, the demon of the underworld, the one you thought would rape you bloody before you get to crawl out of the Labyrinth. The fact that he wanted to kill his father more than he wanted to be born again into a new life wasnât a surprise, but that he chose to bloody his sword rather than his cock is somehow... insulting, almost.Â
What actually haunts you is how your insides coil and turn when you rush back to your temple. Itâs not like you thought the Minotaur would take you with him. Board some trade ship bound for distant shores, and ravage you ever so softly in the belly of the creaking hull. Itâs not like you dreamed of petting him to sleep while you two embark on a new life. But the way your heart twists and wails inside your chest makes it clear that losing him is even more painful than losing Theseus and the life he promised you.Â
You never even wanted Theseus; you only wanted him to take you away from here. His affection would have been the result of ample witchcraft at best.
Heâs practically already dead, and your heart turns to stone far more slowly than you would prefer. Itâs just your luck to first have the golden hero of Greece look down on you in disdain, and then witness even the Bull Man walk away from you like you never meant anything to him. Men killing each other is the oldest story in the world, and you want no part in it, but something in this beast has stirred you awake from a long, cold slumber. Itâs infuriating that you canât dispel a simple animal from your heart. Oldest story in the book, that one, tooâŠ
But oh, how you now yearn after some cruel, lowly, dirty beast⊠The Minotaur already owns you, and he never even had to plunge his sword inside you to prove that. Besides, you wouldâve been perfectly willing had he decided to take you on the green grass, under the vast sky, while some noisy goats graze around you. You realize that thatâs what you expected to happen, and when it didnât, youâre left more than disappointed: you're left completely hollow. You always find out these things a little too late, it seems⊠The Bull is headed for the palace and will likely get killed after he slaughters his cruel father. Thereâs at least thirty spears in that building, and more will arrive when called.
You arrive at the temple, panting and with your body flushed and weak. The maidens at the entrance share a quick glance with each other before turning their fearful gazes back to you. Theyâre the youngest arrivals, not even initiates yet; one of them hardly even bleeds.Â
âThe King is dead,â you announce without bothering to even greet them, and the girls huddle up together like theyâre a bunch of slaves about to get slapped.
You realize you must look like an animal with your dirty robes, dishevelled hair and your wild, alive stare. No wonder they look like theyâve seen a ghost... You basically are one, coming back from the dead like this.
âWhat?âÂ
A priestess arrives at the threshold like an image of Hecate herself, dressed in robes as black as the midnight sky, but you donât shy away from her like you used to.
âOr he will be. Soon. The Minotaur is here.âÂ
âHow did you⊠How did it...â
Youâve never seen the priestess in disarray. Sheâs always composed, cold and distant, but seeing you like the wraith that you are, freshly escaped from the Labyrinth, spat back from the bowels of the earth like the dark gods didnât even want you there, makes even the greatest of Hecateâs servants a little uneasy.Â
She gathers whatâs left of her dignity and finds her most commanding voice. Sadly, it doesnât have the power to shake the ground anymore.
âWhere is Theseus of Athens?â
âDisemboweled⊠is my best guess,â you say in a listless voice, then turn your head toward the smell of fresh fruit.
Normally, you would walk these halls with dignity, but now, you simply barge in and grab the first piece of food you find. You ought to get whipped for your insolence, but no one dares to raise a hand against you. The maids and priestesses stare in shock as you eat and drink like a starved prisoner. Youâre a living Hecate in certain aspects, your arrival the first toll of the bell of doom as the palace guards sound the alarm.
SoâŠ
The Minotaur has reached the king.
âŠ
The priestesses deem it only logical that the King finally pays for his sins: the gods have been offended by the number of human sacrifices sent to the Labyrinth, and this is their way of exacting revenge. You were only an instrument of their will.
After a quick wash and some more food, you begin to feel like a human again. The maids bring you a new chiton, flowing and white: your old clothes are burned in a brazier as if that would help you forget.
And this might be the only place you donât get blamed for unleashing a monster. You were at a crossroads with the Minotaur, and anyone would have done the same: try to talk him out of his killing spree, calm him down, entice him with a gift. No one expected that the beast could even speak, so your approach was unusual, perhaps, but it worked. Hecate guided you through the tunnels, even when the candle went out, she stilled the Bullâs loins until you reached the sunlight where the beast got distracted with other things. You leave out the Minotaur's attraction to birds, bees and butterflies because your story is unbelievable enough as it is.
But the Minotaur will be slain after he has done his deed: Minos is the one who should be punished, not the city of Crete. And it is only just to put down this beast, a mercy.
So when he appears between the pillars of temple, this time wholly covered in blood, people are bound to scream. Even the priestesses who are used to seeing blood, shriek like widows when the Minotaur steps inside the holy shrine of Hecate.
âWhere is the maiden of the crossroads?â
He came back for you, after allâŠ
The boom of his voice is familiar, and yet, you cower on the bench when you hear it. The Minotaur sounds like heâs an envoy of Hades himself, and while youâre not among those who scream and yell, it still sends shivers down your spine to hear him speak like that.
Or is it the excitement, a tiny flame of hope that makes you quiver like this?
âWe all belong to the goddess,â someone peeps, the Minotaur now descending down the stairs.
The massive head turns, gaze like razor sweeping across the marbled shrine. Youâre so far back that he canât catch you, sitting behind many bodies and faces, and before you can force yourself to rise, the main priestess, the oldest, most crooked of the crones, steps forth to meet this beast.
âThis is a House of Hecate,â she speaks. âNo man is allowed to enter unless they are Death.â
The black carcass turns, but the priestess doesnât waver. If anything, her spine turns into unbreakable metal before this manâs gaze.
âI am Death,â he says, far more gently than anyone would expect. Then he walks past the crone like sheâs just a harmless elder. No one does a thing, because even the head of your temple is powerless now.
âShe had a red string and a candle. Where is she?â
He grabs the first woman he sees, and you rise up before he decides itâs time to thrust his blade into someone to loosen the tongues of these women.Â
âPlease,â you take a hesitant step towards your Bull. âIâm here... Iâm the one youâre looking for.â
The Minotaur lets go of the frightened initiate the instant he sees you. Sheâs shoved aside with little interest, the blue eyes behind the corpse now solely fixed on you. The way they soften into hazy ice makes your knees weak â thatâs the stare of someone who recognizes their loved one among a thick, dull crowdâŠ
âCome with me,â he extends a hand when he reaches you, strong legs swallowing tiles like heâs in a hurry to get back to you. You open your mouth, close it, and look at his hand, the rough, enormous palm held out for you to place your own little hand in.
âYou belong to me,â he says with great weight when you donât speak. It should spark the ire of the goddess for him to dare to talk to you like this⊠But mostly, your body sings. It tells you to take a step and take his hand: to let him have you, once and for all.Â
âMy place is here,â you utter, all power gone from your voice. All your dreams, all your fears are offering their hand to you with his, and the maidens, mothers and crones of this hall look upon your exchange with the Bull Man in stupefied silence.Â
âYou were sent down to me,â he presses on. âYou are mine now. You belong to me.â
Your body is singing, singing, singing.
Itâs not a request⊠Or a proposal.Â
Itâs a god, taking whatâs his.
âŠ
You swallow with nothing in your throat and look at the head priestess with helpless misery: she looks back with the eyes of a noxious Medusa, wholly dispassionate to the problems you brought upon yourself. And what could she even do? Sheâs unarmed against the claims of Hades: Death is now in love with you, and thereâs nothing you or anyone else can do about it.Â
He doesnât want to stay in the city, as enchanting as it is, saying that it stinks and that heâs tired of the screams. No one wants him here; he already knows that, and the task he was meant to do is done. He doesnât seem to be much moved by it either, only asking you if there is a place where he can wash the blood off himself.Â
People become more bold when they see you walk out of the city. Not even the sight of a crimson demigod makes them watch their tongues. Insults and slurs follow you through the streets, shouts such as âKingslayer!â and âBeast!â are accompanied with curses such as âYou are an abomination!â and âGo back to your lair!âÂ
No one treats him as their prince and savior, no one sees him as the man he truly is. And because hatred thickens in crowds, you get your share of the insults as well.Â
What kind of a woman would follow a beast like him? Have you sold your soul to the demons of the desert, or has Hades himself forced you to be with this monster? Are you behind the murder of their king?
âMust I remind you?â You turn on your heels, standing tall and proud with the posture of a queen. âAccording to the old laws, the one who slays the king is the next to rule.âÂ
âYou led him out of the Labyrinth, didnât you?â the voices ask.
âGave him your cunt, too,â they sneer.
âYouâre worse than the bloody Gorgon,â they mock, but you have a thick skin: if anything, you take it as a compliment to be referred to the mighty slayers of men.
What cuts through your heart is the filth and hate they spit at him, the man who has known nothing but loath since he was born.Â
âHecateâs whore⊠I should kill you first,â one soldier shouts with spit running down his chin.
The citizens of Crete would never hail the Minotaur as their king, but none can say the deed didnât prove great strength. Some would even call it justice. He is the queenâs son, after all: heâs more royal than any of these dung-stinking peasants will ever be. He should never have been sent down to those tunnels in the first place.
Before you know it, the Minotaur swoops past you in haste, diving towards the screaming crowd with hunched shoulders and a fiery breath.
âStop,â you say, and he halts immediately, gaze still directed to the one who called you a whore. The soldiers back away along with the peasants and tradesmen, these poor, humble Cretes who act like they never meant to be so mean.
âLet us go in peace,â you command, voice unwavering and stern. âOr I will curse you all. You and your families, down to the seventh son and seventh daughter.â
That manages to shut them up. The threat of a curse frightens these poor beasts even more than the enraged Minotaur breathing fire through his helm. No one wants rot and puke to follow them wherever they go; no one wants to doom their offspring with illness, death and sorrow. They disperse in all directions and only hiss and whisper as they go.
You spit on the ground as your last gift to these people, leaving the city of Crete with the ever-adoring Bull at your heels.
âYouâre even prettier when youâre angry,â he says while walking next to you, voice thick with genuine passion and awe.
You roll your eyes: any man would cower before Hecateâs curse, but this one? This one only gets more horny.Â
âPerhaps you are part bull after all,â you retort dryly.
âIt takes more than one spear to kill me,â he boasts, but you donât need more proof of his prowess. Surely, people have tried to kill him in the Labyrinth, but heâs survived every single attempt on his life â for that alone, he should be a decorated hero.
The only thing that makes you annoyed, however, is this childish need to prove he couldâve taken the whole city by himself just because some man happened to call you a slut.
âMother said Iâm a monster instead of a man,â he says, completely unaware that your snap wasn't meant as a compliment. He says it like heâs partly proud of it, and you finally sigh and turn.Â
âYour mother was heartless. And wrong.â
The Minotaur only looks at you with a building passion that goes straight to your loins.
âBut youâre not.â
â...What?â
âHeartless.â
You feel stripped naked before him, the way his eyes seem to burn away your poor dress. But the fact that he unearths your most guarded secret, just like that, is a catastrophe of a far wider scale.
Youâre not sure whoâs tied to whom anymore⊠Or if youâre tied to each other, the gods now laughing in their wine as they look down at you two: a fierce and bloodied giant following the maiden he stole like itâs you who took him and not the other way around.
You reach the roaring waters of a waterfall in silence, the night wrapping the lands inside a dark blue veil. Stars will be visible soon, and with the moon creeping up to the sky, you wonât be needing candles tonight. The silver mistress gives plenty of light for you to admire your beast, and compared to the thick darkness of the tunnels you emerged from this morning, it feels like a generous blessing.
You sit on the banks of the small, clear pond, utterly exquisite at nightfall. The sunâs heat has turned into a warm, caressing breeze, and you submerge your feet into the water, giving out a satisfied sigh as the cool pond embraces your travel worn feet. The Bull sinks to a crouch some distance away from you, curious about your obvious moment of pleasure.
âDid you meet herâŠ? Your mother?â You ask from the cool water lapping at your feet â how can a simple man make you feel so restless and shy?
âDid you⊠kill her?âÂ
âShe cursed me,â he says, sullen and wholly unsurprised. Time and time again, you are shocked by the hatred his own kin shows him. How can a mother be so cruel?
âHow could I kill my own maker?â
âIâm sorry,â you whisper. âFor everything.âÂ
You swallow before such unwavering love. The same man who cursed the gods yesterday honours the womb he came from so much that he wonât raise a hand against it, not even when his own mother spits curses at him. You donât know if itâs his greatest strength or biggest weakness, but sometimes you wonder if heâs more human than humans, this beast.
âIâm not,â he retorts immediately. âThe king is dead. Mother is safe. I have you... This is the best day of my life.â
You turn to look at him. Time and again, the lack of lies and deceit in this man catches you off guard. Itâs more painful than any wound, to see how the Minotaur has no protective skin against the corrupted human nature, that he is human nature before it was defiled.
âLetâs get you cleaned up,â you falter.Â
The chiton pools around your ankles, and you wonder if the man even breathes anymore. You know your skin is glowing with the last rays of the setting sun, youâre aware that the water and moonlight play upon your skin and make you look like an illusion, powerful in its own way.
When have you ever faltered� Back when you were a little girl, you reckon, the notion euphoric and eerie in your bones.
You rise up and undress before him nonchalantly, trying to ignore the fervid stare of your admirer. Unclasping the brooches holding up your white linen dress, you let it fall down and set you free, secretly reveling in the downright carnal stare now glued to your skin.Â
Ripe for plucking, you think while stepping out of the pile of cloth and into the thin evening air. His gaze feasts on you: the plump breasts no one ever loved, the vulnerable navel down below, the dark triangle between your legs, the secret power it holds.
Heat pools into your core as you watch him: everything in your body turns warm and soft when you take in the utter heftiness of him. The mean, swelling phallus between his legs, the near inhuman strength those shoulders and chest possess. Your body is the complete opposite of him, ethereal, almost, compared to the absolute brute strength before you.Â
His eyes linger there the longest until he rises too, stiff and dreamy, a beast entirely taken by a thrall. The loincloth is practically torn away, as if itâs only a nuisance he must get rid of immediately. His eyes never leave your shape while he bares himself, and the phallus, you notice, belongs to a human. Itâs thick and wondrous, fully erect, adorned with dark curls and accompanied by a set of balls youâve mainly seen on horses. Big, full and round but unlike animals, theyâre covered in dark fur, almost black here in the evening light. Thick seed beads through the slit of his cock from simply seeing you, and the way his chest heaves makes it clear that this man is ready to mate as soon as heâs allowed to do so.Â
âYou need to take off your helm,â you lift your chin, thoroughly aware of your power over him, even if itâs laughable, a miracle that he doesnât fuck you on the spot like the animal he is. âYouâre a man, not a bull.â
His eyes donât betray any kind of hesitation. He doesnât seem to be interested in whether he wears his mask or not. He just blinks as if heâs indeed under a spell and nods.
âIf you say so.â
The broad muscles flex as he takes it off, and what is revealed to you from underneath the head is both a surprise and a disappointment. Thereâs not a monster under there, only a man, a stoic, boorish, shaggy male whoâs in desperate need of a wash and a comb. Heâs somewhat handsome under all that facial hair and knots, actually, not bad at all â if you like your men rugged and wild.Â
He lets the head drop to the ground with a thud as if it was never a part of him at all, and follows you into the pool like youâre his mother and heâs your cub about to get scrubbed clean.Â
He seems to dwarf you, even when half submerged in the pond, leaning back with a sigh not unlike yours. If youâre afraid, your body has a peculiar way of showing it: even in the clear, glossy water, you can feel yourself get wet. Never have you seen such strength, not in any man: in horror and awe, you realize he could be a descendant of Zeus himself. As if providing proof to these claims, he looks up to the sky, mesmerized by the myriad stars dotting the vast, unattainable blue.
Using this momentary distraction to your advantage, you reach to pluck a handful of moss from the bank. With this soft little sponge in your hand, you hope to make it clear that this is indeed a bath, not foreplay.Â
âTheyâre stars,â you say softly while slinking closer to him. âHave you ever seen them...?â
âYes,â he rasps with his head lolled back, throat completely exposed. It always hurts your heart to see that he trusts you so fully. You are no threat to him â even if the gods changed the moss in your hand into a weapon of some sort, you wouldnât pose any kind of challenge. And still, the way he allows you to creep towards him and wipe his rough hide with the makeshift sponge without so much as flinching is heartbreaking.Â
âI have forgottenâŠâ his voice drifts off as he examines the night sky, eyes filled with distant, glass-like delight.
âBeautiful, arenât they...?âÂ
âYour world is pretty,â he brings his gaze back to earth and to you. âBut youâre the loveliest thing Iâve seen so far.â
You almost freeze upon hearing that. His compliments always catch you off guard, but this time, something forbidden and long forgotten comes undone: a lost want, no, a need to hear such simple words of shallow praise.
âYou do not scream... You do not run. Why?â
Your eyes are liquid, glass about to break as you set yourself on the task of scrubbing him clean. You refuse to get emotional in front of him: an initiate of the dark goddess, shedding tears when a horny man calls her pretty? What utter nonsense.
But then he grabs your wrist: not to seize back power, but to prevent you from escaping this fragile moment.
âYou are different,â he agrees calmly, then releases you, but you reckon itâs mostly because he misses the soft rubs you were giving him.Â
âPerhaps Iâm crazy,â you breathe while looking at the damp curls on his chest.
Yes⊠Thatâs the only explanation for this madness. It has to be.
âIs that why you took me?âÂ
âI took you because youâre mine. I want you.â
âYou canât just take what you want,â you warn softly.
âWhy not?â His head tilts a little to the side as heâs trying to make sense of you and the manners of your world. âDonât you want to be mine?â
You lift your gaze and risk a look into his eyes, stripped from all facades as always. You even catch a passing wave of worry there: he had counted on you being as fascinated with him as he is with you. The hunger behind that want, the need to be something special to you, is a whole another issue that must wait until your head is more clear. Way more clearâŠ
âPerhaps,â you confess.
âI have nothing to give you,â he shrugs, eyes looking slightly past you this time, out of shame or anxiety. It takes a while for you to understand heâs liking you to the goods at the market and thinks heâs expected to have money to be able to keep you.
âYou donât need to pay for me,â you smile, trying your best to disguise the soft amusement in your voice. His brows only furrow as he tries to calculate and think.
âI donât understand the rules of this world,â he finally shakes his head.Â
âIâll teach you.â
For a while, he only looks on with fascination how you rub his arms and belly, basically massaging him with the wet moss. His eyes drift closed when you scrub the back of his neck, the stout erection only getting thicker under the cool water. Youâre careful with his legs, not because youâre afraid heâs ticklish but because you try to avoid touching the huge cock already jutting up from happiness. It gives a few excited bounces when you wash his inner thighs, hopeful to get its needs satiated soon.Â
âI can hunt for you,â he suggests. âBring you food⊠Protect you.â
Heâs visibly excited when figuring out a way to give you something in return. He wants to provide offerings for your company, your lore, and eventually, your cunt, too. You might be a virgin, but youâre not stupid: of course he wants the soft, wet prize between your legs. A pair of lovely tits to squeeze at night... Ears to groan hushed confessions into, thighs to nibble, bite and suck until you cry...Â
âWhat do you think?â He asks, breath heavy from the bliss youâre already granting him by simply giving him a bath. âI could give you my heat. Please you...â
âYou know how to please women?âÂ
âNo. But you could teach me.â
The way he says it is not shy. Only tentative. A bear, walking on ice and hoping it would carry his weight. One wrong step and the ice will swallow him, spitting out his bones only in spring.Â
And thenâŠ
âDo you know how to fuck?â
The ice holds, mainly because youâre too shocked to even slap or ridicule this man. His eyes bore into you with such unbridled greed that you have trouble keeping your precious pride intact.
âOf course,â you hear yourself whisper like it would be an insult to your intellect if you didnât.
âTeach me,â he says, ever more greedily.
âIâŠâ
Your jaw is left open, but not a word comes out. A strong palm closes around your wrist again, this time to bring you flush against him. The water laps at your skin, a distant crow cackles somewhere. Your hand is brought to his phallus, but he doesnât have to wrap your fingers around it: you do it all by yourself, breath locked in your throat as you feel how hard and blazing he is.
âYou want my cock,â he says, mouth only an inch from yours. âDonât you...?â
You wet your lips â a mistake, because his half-lidded gaze darts to your mouth the instant your pink tongue lashes out. Youâre in a predicament, but on the other hand, what else did you expect, taking your clothes off in front of a touch-starved bull?
âIâd give it to you happily,â he insists. âNo female ever wanted to spread her legs for me.â
Or a leash.Â
Your fingers tighten on their own, they mould around him. Like a bondâŠ
âReally?â You breathe. âWhat fools they were...â
The cock gives a full throb inside your palm, exalted to be yours. But only a moment later, the dreaded Minotaur moves.Â
You find yourself under him before you can even gasp for air: the soaked, hot body of a giant now pinning you on the grass and crushing you under it with ease. The weight of your error is fully pressed against you: he was never tamed, and you were a fool to think you could put him in chains.
The raw scent of earth and musk fills your nostrils, making the stars above you spin. His cock is trapped between your bodies, giving another rich pulse against your thigh. Gods, if he were throbbing like that inside youâŠ
âYou make my skin burn,â he growls into your ear, the heat of his skin now unbearable, the coarse hair prickling your skin from neck to thigh. âMy loins, acheâŠâ
âAre you a witch?â He asks, and you finally allow yourself to breathe.
If he only knew⊠But hexes and charms are of no use for you now: the only thing you can do is moan, apparently, as he dives for your neck, planting barbarous kisses on your skin.
Down, down, down he goes, pure avarice driving him to feast on every part of you. Youâre too weak to stop him when he searches for the source of your intoxicating scent. Discovering it between your thighs, he dives nose-first into your sex, meeting your core with a hungry grunt.
Your back arcs with pleasure, your nails sink into his back: a funny thing to do when heâs already as close as can be. The trail of crude kisses leads him to your breasts, and you try to keep your whimpers in control, but a gasp erupts when he drags a hot tongue across your nipple. Massive palms close around your tits while you squirm in his hold: he doesnât seem to be driven by the need to please you; rather, he wishes to study you first, examine how your body reacts to his groping. He leaves your breasts aching and sore, every bite and suck managing to make you wetter and wetter, your cunt screaming for attention by now.
âGods...â you wriggle on the soft earthen bed, not expecting him to take you with his mouth first.
He withdraws, only a little, but his voice is surprisingly soft.
âDo I hurt you...?âÂ
âNo⊠But this is not matingâŠâ
âEven I know that much,â he says darkly, and grabs you by the waist, moves you around like a doll until you find yourself on your belly.Â
He looks at you from between your thighs, demonic and keen. The broad shoulders force your legs wide apart when heâs seated there, waist-deep in the water, with you hauled to the shore like a siren.
Not a moment is wasted as he pulls you back to him by the hips: youâre drawn to all fours, a hot streak of cum dragging on the inside of your thigh from the cock that meets your skin. He grabs and steadies it with an annoyed grunt, and the fat tip is shoved straight into your folds, your nether lips parted with brute force almost.Â
âGuide me.â
His voice is demanding, impatient as he drags the fat head up and down the entrance of your hole, coating his cock with your slick in the process. You wonder if itâs instinctual, if he knows that this is where he should poke and that it will hurt you less if heâs well-oiled. Heâs about to rut you into oblivion the instant you tell him where to shove his cock, and the prospect only sends more sap flowing down your thigh.
âThereâŠâ you stutter when he finds it, the aching spot thatâs leaking profusely. He pushes the head in, not by teasing but by bullying, almost forcing it inside from how tight and unreceptive you are.
âTighter than my fist,â is his only comment, and it makes you shudder. âI will not last longâŠâ
You wince from the burn, but the rest of it glides in like a dream, and suddenly youâre filled, to the capacity, one could say. He grunts just from the way your womanhood is hugging him, not sure what this foreign object inside you is â is it a good thing or a threat?
âEasy then,â you breathe a huff into the sweet night air, filled with fireflies and night birds who know nothing about the fucking youâre about to go through.
He doesnât move â inside you, that is. Outside, he crawls forward until he moulds around you, heavy body enveloping you completely. The hairs on his thighs tickle the back of your legs, his chest scrapes your back just so as he demonstrates how you belong to him in every way. But when your cunt starts to squeeze him again, he swallows thickly.
âDoes this feel good to you tooâŠ?â
You catch faint confusion and concern in his voice, astonished that such a soft, frail body like yours can take his cock just like that. Little does he know youâre still adjusting to his size, thanking all the gods that he doesnât move yet.
âYes,â you confess because it does feel good: his thickness inside you, stretching you both gently and violently, studying how it feels to be inside a loving, wet heat.
âThen I will fuck you every day,â his lips come to brush your ear. âMany times...â
You hear yourself whimper, more humble now than ever. No man would dare to take you on all fours, but here you are, like a bought bride about to get stuffedâŠ
He withdraws a little, asks, âLike this?â when he returns with a rough, nasty thrust. The balls meet your mound, heavy on the tender nub youâve flicked when youâre lonely, covering your mouth while you do it. Both your hands are planted on the ground now, your legs spread before this beast, cunt filled to the brim with his cock.
âNot so rough,â you warn, and he heeds your instructions to the letter until heâs moving in and out with a slow, delicious pace that allows you to feel every thick bump of him. Soaked now down to your thighs, the sounds of your mating is utterly sloppy and slick, and of course heâs curious.
âAre you always like thisâŠ?â
âLike⊠what,â you huff in between the slow, torturous thrusts.
âSoft,â he rasps. âTight⊠Wet like rain.â
âNo. Itâs just whenâŠâ
âWhen you want to fuck?â
You whimper for an answer, mostly because he starts to slip from the agreed sluggish pace. His cock invades you with more urgency, chasing the eruption that must be generous from those thick balls that should belong to a horse.
âI knew itâŠâ he says dreamily behind you. âSome women want to mate with bulls...â
He punctuates his newfound pride with a full, deep thrust, and you wince.
âYouâre not aââ
âKeep telling yourself that, little maiden.â
He exhales a hot smile next to your ear, and youâre neck deep in love. Your mouth hangs open, your lids half closed and fluttering from the way he pounds into your poor, abused cunt. Heavy balls slap your swollen nub with careless abandon, making you squeeze his thickness every time he hits the end of you. His grunts become more animalistic with every thrust, and your cunt is a wild thing, leaking and weeping and throbbing until you fear thereâs something wrong with you â no woman is supposed to be this needy for a beastâŠ
Iâm going to come⊠You realize in horror as the slick sounds of fucking overthrow even the coursing roar of the waterfall. The knowledge shoots your body full of dark, hot ink; it explodes inside your core like a liquid star, throbbing through your cunt currently being ploughed like youâre nothing but a needy, sloppy hole for him. Youâre swimming in so much pleasure that itâs almost painful, the revelation some secret of the gods, no doubt.Â
He growls when you moan, heavy arm snaking its way around your middle to keep you in place for him. The purr is eager and low, the rumble erupts from his chest like a thick, loving volcano, a statement of how perfect you are. He nuzzles his nose into your neck and rubs his scent all over you while fucking you through it, the divine rapture that leaves your throat dry from moans.Â
He doesnât need to be told what it means when youâre crying like that: he doesnât need to be explained that his cock is giving you ample pleasure. Itâs so desperate, how much he wants to both fuck and please you, just own you and fulfill you, that you start to shake, your frail body not capable of handling the orgasm he just gave you.Â
Your strength fails, and you find yourself on your elbows, cunt even more exposed to him now, the cock pistoning into you with a relentless pace. Heâs like a titan upon you, taking pleasure from your quivering, weak frame and the tight wet hole that belongs to it. Youâre still in rapture when he starts to sound like broken, wounded man.
âYou were made for me,â he huffs. âYou were made...for meâŠâ
His voice evaporates along with your thin, adoring mewls, just before he fucks himself over the edge. You can feel the hot, thick spurts, filling you as he roars into your hair, balls pressed flush against your sex, thighs meeting yours in a moment frozen in time.Â
They can probably hear him all the way to the city, hear what a cunt like yours does to an invincible beast like him⊠But his cries are only met with silence; the night sky looks back with disinterest, the birds continue their songs when they notice it was only the roar of a mighty beast that filled the land. Before long, heâs groaning above you, using your hole more softly; loving it until the last drop is milked.Â
When he stops, his whole body is trembling from release, but youâre not given a moment of reprieve. He forces you to the ground with him on your back, the rough, thick body never leaving yours. Coarse beard chafes your neck, his body trapping you completely under him, he even opens his jaw to take your shoulder between his teeth and bites you while his cock is still pulsing fat inside you.Â
âI canât get enough of you,â he pants into your ear, angry, almost.
âGood,â you breathe a smile, but heâs not satisfied.
âYou couldnât get enough of me too⊠I noticed.â
âYou gave me pleasure,â you agree. âLots of it.â
âThat was a lot of seed⊠I havenât spilled in days.â
He huffs into your ear, astonished and proud that he could do such a thing. You feel him shift to take a better look at you, fingers arrive to graze your temple as if to make sure youâre real, as if having his cock inside you wasnât enough proof of that. Theyâre a little shaky, a little uncouth, but the touch is gentle enough, and sweet.
He's boasting again perhaps, you donât know, but you give him a soft laugh, notice how he stops breathing momentarily when hearing the bright sound.
âI am filled to the brim with you, yes⊠It will take a while before I can take more.â
â...You have other holes in you,â he offers after a while, quite seriously, in fact.Â
âGet off me, you beast,â you huff and squirm to get out from under him, but thereâs a luscious grin on your face, a smile that tells him you would more than approve of his obscene ideas later.Â
âThis feels good,â he murmurs into your hair. âThis feels right...â
He allows you to leave from under him, only whines when his cock gets exiled from your cunt. He misses the wet heat like a newborn child misses the womb, but you need to recover from the recent invasion. Seed gushes out from your hole, making a mess on the ground as he pulls you against him, wanting to cuddle you next.
You wonder if he even knows what cuddling means as you lie there with a sticky mess between your legs and the heat of an entire sun on your cheeks. You smile into the coarse, sweaty body hair tickling your nose, deciding it doesnât matter whether he knows or not: the most important thing is that he wants to hold you like this.
âYes,â you smile. âThis feels rightâŠâ
Something blooms in your chest. An odd flower, persistent and sweet.Â
The stars above are cold but motherly as they look down on you two: born again into a world that doesnât want either of you. The only things that accept you now are flowers, birds, the wind and the rain, bees and salty sea, but thatâs aplenty. Thatâs more than the whole of Crete could ever give you.
âAre you thinking about your hero,â he asks above you.
âWhat? NoâŠâ
âGood,â he rasps, so softly now that you start to fear heâs about to cry.
You are more than capable of lying, but Theseus hasnât crossed your mind in hours: the last time it did, the memory was received with loath and disdain. Thinking about Theseus while youâre draped all over your Bull, his seed flowing out of your womb... What a ridiculous idea.Â
The reason for his hardly disguised anger is laid out plain before you: he's just jealous like any other man. Somehow, it makes you feel even more glowy inside.Youâre my hero, you want to say, but have no courage to spill out the words. He was balls deep inside you mere moments ago, but telling him this intimate truth seems to be too much.
It never occurred to him, then, that you would enjoy copulating with him. He fucked you with the impression that you needed thoughts of another man to make you wet⊠That perhaps with the help of the image of Theseus in your mind, you were able to come with his cock inside you.Â
âMy Bull,â you whisper. âTell me your name. You must have a nameâŠ?â
His breath stops only for a moment, the heart in his chest gives an arduous beat before he answers.
âAsterion.â
Starry oneâŠ
Of course.
All monsters have names, usually the opposite of what theyâre claimed to be. His birth is in heaven, in the stars; he belongs to the company of heroes and gods.
âAsterion,â you whisper it out into the night air while the animal an man both find their new home in your arms. âYour birth is written in the stars. Did you even knowâŠ?â
âDoes that make me a hero?â He snorts, more old wounds torn open right before your eyes.Â
You wriggle yourself out of his hold, but he avoids your stare. You lift a hand to bring those beautiful Olympian eyes back to you.
âIt makes you immortal.â
Perhaps you shouldâve known he would be enticed with an apple instead of tethers and deals. Or with a palm, held out with no intent to strikeâŠÂ
Itâs lovely, how he blinks every time heâs confused. Youâve yet to see him shy, but if he ever is, this might be the moment⊠You even catch him swallowing under that wild facial hair, an awkward blob right after that blink when his birthright is acknowledged.
But even more dumbfounded he becomes when he realizes youâre truly and veritably admiring him. When you whisper it to him â youâre my hero â and watch something shatter in him that was supposed to wrench itself free, thatâs when heâs truly granted divinity.
Perhaps it was all about becoming animal again, allowing the other to have a sniff. Baring your throat and embracing the instinct to trust. Marrying your wild soul⊠The deepest magic of all.
#könig x reader#könig cod#könig x you#konig x reader#könig mw2#konig x you#könig smut#könig fanfiction#konig smut#cod könig
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More roomate!au thoughts because, again, my brain never stops. When you move in with them, dont expect to be able to do anything by yourself ever again (unless its housework and their away), your car needs fuel? Dont worry Simon will go with you and fill it up for you and dont even think about trying to pay for it yourself, you tried once and Simon just glared at you so you tucked your card back into your purse. You need to go get a few supplies for college, Price and Gaz are joining you and giving their opinions about the best laptop to get or the best stationary (they fill out enough paperwork that they know the best ones). You're cooking them dinner, Johnnys right by your side following your every order and helping to wash up while you go relax on the sofa waiting for whatevers in the oven. And you will want for nothing, you see a pair of shoes you want while out shopping but their outside of your price range, they arrive at your door a week later just after the boys deploy, you see a pretty necklace on TV and comment on it, Johnnys there behind you fastening it just before your next night out. You lament that your mattess and bed are uncomfortable, a new one arrives the next and it just so happens to be big enough to fit all 5 of you on it.
Yeah, the boys would 1000% give you princess treatment
My mind is still on that drabble so i absolutely love this so so so very much god yesâŠ.
Original post
It doesnât end there, of course. God, they do so, so much for you.
Itâs Simon who stands right outside the bathroom door when you get sick late at night, trying to be quiet and not bother anyone yet when you tell him he should go to sleep, youâll be fine, he doesnât even let you finish your sentence.
âDonât need sleep,â he grunts, pulling you against his body. Despite your protests, his warmth alone makes you melt. âJusâ tell me what you need.â
Itâs Gaz who gifts you with a surprise spa day kit after he notices how exhausted you look during your exams, gently pushing aside your laptop. âYou look knackered, lovie,â he murmurs. âLet me take care of you, alright? You always spoil us when we return anyways, this the least we can do.â
Itâs Johnny who immediately knows your day has been shit just from listening the way you shuffle in, shoulders slumped and head downcast.
âSomeone steal yer sunshine, hen?â
âDonât wanna talk about it, Johnny,â you mumble tiredly, yet you have no energy to refuse when he leads you to the couch. âBad day. Iâll just go to my room-â
âNah, none oâ that,â he shakes his head, taking your bag. âSit down, aye? Iâll fix you up something warm.â Though he makes sure to drap a blanket over yours shoulders before he goes into the kitchen, muttering about food.
Itâs Price who goes hand in hand with your safety. All of them do make you feel safe but John is just- a bit different.
Once, you were being followed after you finished shopping and like an idiot, youâd forgotten your usual pepper spray you carried. You knew you were being followed because you could feel the eyes constantly on you and you circled the same area several times. Your hands are shaking when you text him, praying to every god-
- john
- Yes, love?
You are too afraid to even crack a smile at his serious punctuation.
- someones following me idk what to d
You donât wait for him to reply. Just nervously, with too many typos, you tell him where you are and if please can he come or any of the men-
When John appears by your side in no less than five minutes, he just pulls you close to his side.
âCome on, sweetheart.â He ushers you along. âBlokeâs been dealt with. Give me your backs, yeah? Next time tell me or any of the muppets to join you.â
Too late you notice the blood splatters on his knuckles.
Also, remember when I said the original ad had been because they wanted someone to keep the place tidy when they are away? That doesnât apply when they are home. If they see you cleaning or cooking, they are helping- nu uh, no complaints allowed, they are not about to let you slave away when you have four very capable men at your beck and call.
Hell, once it was Johnny who saw you scrubbing the kitchen floors and he just picked you up and placed you on the counter, tsking at you.
In a few hours, John returned to find all of them cleaning the kitchen; Soap was now dusting, Gaz vaccuming, and Simon wiping the counters.
And you were bundled in the couch corner, cozy and cute.
âWhatâs all this?â He asked, an eyebrow raised, and you shrug.
âShe was tryinâ to clean.â Johnny grumbled from the corner.
âAnd you didnât stop her sooner?â
âBloody stubborn bird,â Ghost was the one who replied this time, not even looking up.
You opened your mouth to argue, but the look John fixed you with made you shut your mouth with a click.
âGood girl.â
The warmth on your cheeks was definitely not from overworking, at least.
You mention needing new clothes? You wake up to Simonâs credit card on your nightstand with a note ordering you to use it. âStrangelyâ, you canât find neither your own card nor your wallet.
You also canât find him, but Kyleâs there and oh wow! He has nothing to do so he will in fact be joining you (and making you model the dresses and outfits and send pictures to the others so you can be drowned in compliments)!
Also i like to hc that john(s) are both huge coffee lovers and they do in fact have those huge, fancy coffee machines yk? They are insulted when they see you drink the cheap, shitty, tasteless instant coffee you are surviving on and from then on, you will wake up every day to warm, fresh coffee made for you <33
Anyways gods i love them sm can you tell đ©đ©
#noona.asks#cod x reader#cod#cod x you#tf 141 x reader#tf 141#tf 141 x you#cod imagines#john price x reader#noona.writes#poly!141 x reader#poly 141 x reader#poly!141#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost riley x reader#soap x you#soap x reader#simon riley x you#simon riley x reader#kyle gaz garrick x you#kyle gaz garrick x reader#gaz x you#gaz x reader#johnny soap mctavish x you#johnny soap mctavish x reader#call of duty x you#call of duty x reader
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âcatalyst.
pairing: hwang hyunjin x reader
genre: fluff, pining, non-idol au, best friendâs little brother au
word count: 5.4k
summary: when your best friend points out how there seems to be something more than just a platonic friendship going on between you and hyunjin, you couldnât help but start questioning everything youâve been doing together so far.
a/n: and we finally get y/nâs pov!! (and a little bit of hyunieâs as always lol canât help myself). there is a lotttttt of overthinking on her end so please go easy on her, she just got hit by facts she hadnât thought twice about before (thank u chan).
if anyone comes across this in the tags, this is part 15.2 of a social media series called heart out! you can read it as a stand-alone but i wouldnât recommend it since there are a lot of references to the previous parts of the story.
as always i hope you all enjoy! if you do, please let me know your thoughts on it<3
When you woke up that day, you never wouldâve expected to end up with so many unanswered questions by the end of it.
It was supposed to be a normal day â a great one, actually. You were having lunch at the Hwangâs household, and that itself was enough to make you happy as ever.
It had been a while since youâd last seen Hyunjin and Yejiâs parents, let alone shared a meal with them, so you took it upon yourself to get up extra early that morning in order to make some dessert for them âa lemon pie and a chocolate one, as they were Mr. and Mrs. Hwangâs favouritesâ and still have enough time left to get ready.
Yeji called you out as soon as she and Chan arrived to pick you up, ranting about how it wasnât necessary for you to bring anything, while you and Chan could only laugh, knowing well enough she was already eyeing the lemon pie and thinking of how many pieces she would have.
What only made it funnier to you was that you knew youâd get a similar reaction from Hyunjin once you met him at his parentsâ, only heâd be eyeing the chocolate pie instead.
Said and done, as soon as you entered their house and Hyunjin came up to greet you ânot without first letting you know just how hurt he was over you sharing a ride with your friends instead of himâ, he began to go on about how he told you that you didnât need to bring their parents any presents, like you said you would after his mother had so generously made you some soup when you were in bed with a fever a week ago. Nevertheless, you could see the way he stole a few glances at the chocolate pie, before offering to take it to the kitchen, while Yeji did the same with the lemon one. You could never get bored with these two.
Their parents, you knew very well by now, were just the same as them. It was clear where Yeji and Hyunjin got their humor and antics from.
You always had a very nice time with them, as theyâd always find the right topic to keep the conversation going. But then for some reason your dating life made it to the conversation at one point and Mingyu was brought up by their mother asking you about the âhandsome young manâ they met a couple of times; and somehow that alone would be the catalyst that set off a series of events that ultimately left you questioning your entire relationship with Hyunjin later that night.
âSo you are definitely not getting back together with him?â Their mother asked at last, once the whole âMingyu loreâ, as Yeji called it, had been covered.
âUmâŠâ you hesitated, eyes unconsciously locking with Hyunjin next to you, before you looked for Yeji, who was in front of him. âNo, weâre notâ.
âOh, dearâ she lamented. âWhat he did was such a shame, the two of you certainly made a very nice coupleâ.
âYou heard how he turned out to be an asshole, thoughâ Yeji pointed out, taking the words from Hyunjinâs mouth and inevitably having him and Chan nod in silent agreement.
âItâs a good thing youâre moving past himâ their father chimed in this time.
You nodded, giving him a gentle smile. You were trying your best, for sure.
âHis parents must be devastatedâ Mrs. Hwang lamented again, bringing your attention back to her.
This time, you couldnât help but let out a breathy laugh. âI mean, I got along really well with them, but I wouldnât go as far as to think theyâre devastatedâ.
âLosing a daughter-in-law as beautiful and attentive as youâŠâ she explained, bringing some heat to your cheeks that you tried to play off by taking a sip of water. âThe two of you wouldâve made such beautiful childrenâ.
The water you were drinking didnât follow the path down your throat it shouldâve at the sound of her statement, and you inevitably ended up choking on it.
âYah, mumâ Hyunjin called her out, gently patting your back as you tried to catch your breath. âCan we not mention children and her ex in the same sentence?â
âRight, sorryâ she apologised, handing you a napkin and giving you a soft smile before her eyes focused on her husband; ignoring the way Hyunjinâs hand remained unconsciously drawing small circles on your back until you were able to breathe normally again. âBut just imagine if we had that kind of genes in the familyâ.
âDid she just call us ugly?â Yeji frowned, locking eyes with Hyunjin, who couldnât help but chuckle instead of acting offended like his sister â in his eyes you were on a whole other level of beauty after all.
âHonestly though, even I feel offended nowâ Chan butted in. âI donât recall you wanting my genes this badâ.
âThey met you when we were already a couple, she probably wouldâve tried to bribe you too otherwiseâ Yeji let him know with a cynical laugh, having you all follow right after.
âTrust me, sheâs already pictured how cute your children will beâ Mr. Hwang let the couple know.
âCan we not?â Yeji pleaded with red cheeks this time. Chan, on the other hand, could not let the opportunity to tease her pass, poking her cheek and repeating in a squeaky voice just how cute their kids would be. âBack to the topic of Y/Nâs genes, pleaseâ she begged.
âJeez! Thanks, best friendâ you ironically said amidst an incredulous laugh, earning a finger heart and an obnoxious smile from her in response.
âMy point was,â their mother resumed her previous train of thought. âNow that Y/Nâs single, Iâm kind of wishing we had an older son. Imagine how beautiful their children would be if she became a Hwangâ.
Well, that certainly felt like a bucket of ice cold water being thrown right at Hyunjin.
âHyunjinâs right here, though?â Chan pointed out before the youngest could begin to get lost in his âquite angstyâ thoughts. âTheyâre both in their twenties, Iâd say thereâs hope for Y/N to become a Hwangâ.
And maybe, if you werenât too busy kicking Chan under the table, you wouldâve noticed the shy smile curving up Hyunjinâs mouth, as well as his slightly rosy cheeks as he looked down to his still nearly untouched food.
Maybe if Yeji wasnât too busy laughing at her boyfriend after getting hit and ever so poorly trying to comfort him, she wouldâve noticed her brother being all flustered, too.
But, thankfully for him, his parents did. And that was enough for them to nod their heads in silent understanding.
That was the last comment they made about your dating life that afternoon, having no trouble directing the topic once again towards Chan and Yejiâs relationship instead.
You, on the other hand, although had managed to do a pretty good job at following whatever topic was brought up for the rest of the meal, could not seem to let Chanâs comment go.
It was out of place. Way out of it. What did Hyunjin have to do with it anyway? Like, yes, they were talking about you becoming a Hwang and, yes, he was the only son they had, but that didnât immediately make him an option?
He was three years younger than you. He was only seventeen and still in high school when you met, whereas you were in your second year of university. It felt wrong to even think about it. And it was even worse considering that there was a reason his mum had explicitly mentioned her wish to have an older son instead of pushing you towards Hyunjin right away. It didnât seem right for them either, as far as you could tell from what had just gone down.
Which is why you couldnât let it go. Not even after you and Hyunjin got back to your place, like you had agreed to earlier that day when you decided to share a car with Chan and Yeji instead of him, and he wasted no time to secure his much needed alone time with you once you were done at his parentsâ.
Youâd excused yourself to the kitchen to make some popcorn while Hyunjin was comfortably resting on your couch as he looked for any romcom movie to watch while he sipped on the hot chocolate you made as soon as you got home, and you took those few minutes away from him to text Chan and ask for an explanation.
And, God, did you get one.
You re-read the conversation over and over after he went offline, unable to understand where the hell had it all come from.
âHeâs 23 nowâ.
âYou may have met when he was 17 but heâs an adult nowâ.
âConsidering whatâs currently going on between the two of youâ.
âIâm just trying to make you see and actually consider all your choicesâ.
âHyunjin is not a little boy anymoreâ.
Every single text, hitting harder than the other.
Of course he was no longer a little boy. He stopped being one a long time ago, you werenât stupid. But he was still Hyunjin, Yejiâs little brother. Nothing would ever change that.
You were supposed to care for him just like she did, to be there for him and protect him when the time came. He wasnât supposed to be âa choiceâ for you like any other guy could.
He was Hyunjin, the teenage boy who hardly talked to you the weekend you first met and would stutter almost every time he did, and who would so shyly let you and Yeji know dinner was ready whenever you stayed at theirs after that.
Hyunjin, the high school student youâd give some advice regarding the university admission test and applications throughout his last year of it, and whose graduation you attended later on.
Hyunjin, who made it to your university and would constantly ask for your help in his assignments, regardless of him having chosen a completely different major; and who youâd constantly check up on to make sure he was doing okay in his first year of it.
Hyunjin, who held you tight as ever the night Mingyu left you, and refused to go home like Yeji told him it was okay for him to until he was sure you were sound asleep and no longer crying, which didnât happen until way past four in the morning.
Hyunjin, who would text to check up on you every single day after your breakup, even if it meant getting very short, cold answers from the heartbroken and detached persona that had taken over your body the following weeks.
Hyunjin, who included you in his New Yearâs Eve plans and kept you company the entire weekend Yeji and Chan were away.
Hyunjin, who made it known he missed being as close as you once got to be years ago and took the lead to propose picking up where you left off.
Hyunjin, the man who had spent the entire past month making your days better by simply texting or showing up at your place â being there for you even when you didnât need him to.
Had you really missed how much he was there for you? When was it that the roles reversed and he started to look after you instead?
You jumped when the microwave started beeping, letting you know the popcorn was ready. Shoving your phone into your pocket, you rushed to pour the popcorn into a bowl before making your way back into the living room.
Hyunjinâs head snapped in your direction, unable to hide his smile as soon as he saw you.
You gulped, trying your best to calm your heartbeats down before you took a seat next to him right as he placed the now empty mug on the coffee table. Maybe you shouldâve texted Chan later that night, when Hyunjin was back at his place and you wouldnât have to face him right away after being hit with so many questions.
âI was like one minute away from going over there to see what was taking you so longâ he confessed.
âJust making us a small snackâ you smiled cutely, shaking the bowl in your hands to make your point.
âIâm pretty sure popcorn takes like three minutes to make in the microwave,â he pointed out, shoving a single one into his mouth. âYou took like sevenâ.
You scoffed in amusement. âDid you set a timer or something?â
âNo, but I watched three whole movie trailers,â he admitted, earning a breathy laugh from you. âAnd that without counting the minutes I spent scrolling through movies to watch. Iâd say you took at least ten minutes, actuallyâ.
âDid you miss me that much to actually count the minutes?â You couldnât help but joke.
âWell, yesâ he answered with no hesitation, and no signs of joking either; very unfortunately for your already shaken up heart. âI told you earlier that I hadnât seen you all week and wanted to spend time with youâ.
âWeâve been together nearly all dayâ you reminded him sweetly.
âNot alone, thoughâ his words made you feel warm inside, like they seemed to be doing a lot lately. âItâs not the sameâ.
âSorry,â you pouted, and that was enough for him to melt. âI got kinda caught up texting and⊠here, Iâll just leave my phone on the table so weâll just focus on the movieâ.
Placing your phone next to his on the coffee table in front, you leaned back against the sofa, tilting your head up towards the TV, so heâd hit âplayâ and you could get started on your movie night.
When five seconds went by and he didnât move an inch, you focused your eyes on him instead.
âHyunie?â You called him, moving your hand in front of him to pull him out of his thoughts and smiling once you did. âEverything alright?â
âYeah, um, I justâŠâ he struggled, having his eyes going back to your phone. âWas it work related? Like, was it⊠was heâŠâ
âI was talking to Channieâ you clarified when you got what was going through his mind. âDonât be silly now, you really think Iâd spend ten minutes of my life texting my ex boyfriend?â
âI mean, you guys have a project together now, soâŠâ
âStill, we can just get it over with by emailâ you stood your ground. âI only spend that long texting people I actually enjoy talking toâ.
He smiled, happy to know you would usually spend that amount of time texting âif not moreâ and, therefore, he was one of those lucky ones you enjoyed talking to.
Beaming after that realisation, and with the possibility of you talking to your ex out of the way, he grabbed the remote and pointed it to the TV.
âIs this one okay?â He asked, motioning towards the title â10 Things I Hate About Youâ displayed on it.
You nodded quite effusively. âWhat are you waiting for, itâs one of my favouritesâ.
He bit his lip, but not even that was enough to hide the wide smile taking over his face as he leaned back against the couch as well and finally hit âplayâ. Of course he knew you loved that movie. He wasnât choosing one only he enjoyed after all, and maybe knowing youâd get happy about it was the reason he ended up going with this particular one.
To be fair, he knew heâd spend half of the movie looking at you instead anyway. It was quite cute how you wouldnât notice, being way too immersed in the plot you mustâve watched a hundred times by now.
Every now and then, he would reach for the popcorn at the same time as you, with the mere intention of his fingers faintly touching yours, but by the third time they touched and he got no reaction from you, he decided he wanted more â having your fingers touch without you noticing was not enough.
So, he slid slightly down the sofa, just enough for his face to be on the same level as yours, and then he rested his head on your shoulder.
That, you noticed. Hyunjin realised by the way your body tensed up under his touch.
And, for a moment there, he considered sitting up and going back to his previous position, hating the thought of his proximity making you feel uncomfortable; but you greatly surprised him by leaning your head on his before he could do so, silently letting him know right then that you did in fact enjoy being this close to him.
In the end, he had nothing to worry about when it came to touching you, for you had made it clear a while ago that it didnât bother you. But, then again, he wasnât sure whether you were only enduring it or actually enjoyed it. He didnât know which touches were okay and which ones were crossing the line. And the thing was, so far, you enjoyed every single kind of physical contact he had tried with you. They were all brief, innocent even, sweet.
Him leaning his head on your shoulder hadnât made you tense up because he crossed some kind of line, but because, unknown to him, your head was a complete mess right then. Unable to let your previous conversation with Chan go, you were now questioning the meaning behind this small action of his.
âConsidering whatâs currently going on between the two of youâ.
Was this what he meant by that? You and Hyunjin being this kind of close?
This was the first time he rested his head on your shoulder out of all the times youâd been sitting down on your couch just like this, and now you couldnât tell whether you were overthinking too much because of your friendâs words, or whether you wouldâve started overthinking just the same regardless of it.
Yes, he had held your hand before, but it was an act for the hotteok lady not to feel ashamed after thinking the two of you were a couple.
Yes, you had cuddled through the night on this very couch, but it was only because you passed out without either of you noticing.
Every other âmajorâ touch you shared had an excuse behind it. Hyunjin lying his head on your shoulder, however? It didnât have one. He just felt like it, wanted to be close to you. And ultimately you ended up giving in and resting your head on his simply because you felt like it, too. It felt nice. Regardless of the mess going on in your head, you wanted to be close to him, too.
Was it even an overthinking matter anyway? Friends did this all the time, right? Both you and Chan used to do it a lot before you and Mingyu started dating. You and Yeji still did it a lot, too, up to this day. Why did it suddenly feel different with Hyunjin?
Damn you, Bang Chan. You certainly didnât need this right now.
Once again, your thoughts were interrupted by a sound. This one was softer than your microwaveâs beep, though, more like a buzz coming from one of the phones on the coffee table. Considering your phone wasnât on silent mode right then, you knew it was Hyunjinâs.
âYour phone just buzzedâ you let him know when he wouldnât budge.
âLeave itâ he replied simply, shoving another handful of popcorn into his mouth.
âWhat if itâs important?â You wondered.
He sighed, already giving in â as easily as he always did when it came to you. âIâm too comfy, can you pass it to me?â
You nodded in a second, unable to hold back the chuckle that escaped your mouth when you leaned over to grab his phone and he followed your movement, as he refused to lift his head from its comfortable spot on your shoulder.
Just as you were back in your place and about to hand him his phone, though, its screen lit up, letting you see a single message from Dahye.
As soon as you saw it, you panicked, practically shoving the phone into Hyunjinâs hands.
âSorry, I shouldnât have read thatâ you apologised, shamefully looking away.
Hyunjin frowned, sitting up in clear alert before he could check what you were talking about. His eyes opened wide once he read Dahyeâs text and he immediately realised what it mustâve looked like to you.
It was a simple question: âAre you coming over tonight?â
No hello, no âHyunjinie~â; just straight to the point, which couldnât help but lead you to wonder whether texts like this and him going over to her place at night were an usual occurrence by now.
Hyunjin had told you all about her at New Yearâs Eve. From how they kissed when he was drunk to how she wouldnât leave him alone even years after it happened. He told you it was one sided, that he was tired of her constant insistence. But then why did that one text from her make it seem like that wasnât precisely the case?
Unlike him, you hadnât read Hanâs message following Dahyeâs, for it had just been delivered when he checked his phone right then. You hadnât read the one message that gave the whole context to Dahyeâs obscure text.
âShe means to the pregame,â he was fast to clear up. âHan just texted me and apparently weâre going to a noraebang tonight and pregaming at Haeunâs. Dahyeâs staying with her, soâŠâ
You nodded, feeling like you werenât in the place to say anything. It was his life, after all. He could be with whoever he wanted. He didnât owe you any explanations. Fuck, did you want any explanations?
You didnât know if you were feeling embarrassed for reading a text message that was supposed to be private, or if you were upset over the idea that Chan had just planted in your head being tainted not even an hour later.
Maybe youâd been thinking too much over something that wasnât even there, being influenced by your best friend and what he thought was going on between you and Hyunjin. Maybe it was nothing after all.
But you couldnât deny that you did feel quite uneasy over her text.
Were you upset that she was talking to him? Were you upset they were possibly hooking up? Was it being about Hyunjin you were upset about? Or were you just upset over how much the scene playing right in front of you resembled the times youâd just started questioning Mingyuâs relationship with Hayun while you were still together?
The times youâd catch the suspicious text messages popping up on his notifications, how nervous he would get and how he would start to throw excuse after excuse for you to believe he had nothing to do with her⊠You knew this feeling all too well, and you hated that you were feeling it again, with Hyunjin of all people, when you were not even together, you had no feelings for him as far as you knew, and, most importantly, you knew he was nothing like Mingyu at all.
And yet, here you were, feeling the goddamn lump in your throat you had felt one too many times by now because of a guy.
âY/N?â He brought you back to reality. He looked worried. âI promise it doesnât mean what it looked likeâ.
You had to hold back the hopeless laugh that threatened to escape your mouth at the sound of his words.
Words you had heard and decided to let pass way more times than you were proud of, and which brought you right back to the downfall of your last relationship.
You didnât know which one of your concerns had to do with the trauma of your past relationship and which ones were actually related to the current situation you had just found yourself in.
When did it all stop being about Mingyu and it started being about Hyunjin?
âItâs okayâ you gave him the most genuine smile you could give him, to let him know you were alright. Still, he didnât look convinced. âYou should get going, thoughâ.
âI mean it, thoughâ he pushed it when he could tell you werenât convinced. âYou can go through the tââ
âHyunie,â you cut him off, this time with a soft chuckle. âItâs okay. I believe youâ.
Did you?
âBut apparently there is a pregame taking place in a bit, so you should get goingâ.
âYou donât even know at what time it isâ he pouted.
âItâs a little past seven right now,â you pointed out, checking the time in your phone. âIâm guessing at seven thirty? Eight at most?â
Looking down to the group chat with his friends and realising you were right, he only made his pout more prominent.
âAm I right?â You wondered with a teasing smirk.
âYesâŠâ he let out a defeated sigh.
When you laughed triumphantly, he leaned in to rest his forehead on your shoulder.
âI donât wanna go yetâ he mumbled.
âYou have to if you wanna make it in time with your friendsâ.
âI can always just skip pregameâ he suggested, then sitting up again and looking at you with a mischievous smile. âOr skip night out as a wholeâ.
âYah, Hwang Hyunjinâ you scolded him. âYou are not pulling a New Yearâs Eve stunt on me againâ.
âA New Yearâs Eve stunt?â He wondered rather amusedly.
âYou know, when you said youâd only stay with me until midnight and then ended up not going back to your friends that nightâ you explained.
âThis is different, though. We had plans beforeâ.
âStaying on the couch watching movies with me canât even compete with going out with your friendsâ.
âNo, youâre rightâ he nodded. âIt canât compete because staying in with you would win every timeâ.
âHyunjinâŠâ you tried your best to sound stern and not melt over his words. âGoâ.
âButâŠâ
âIâm not letting you skip yet another night out with your friends because of meâ.
âCome with me then?â He asked with puppy eyes.
You were quick to look away, knowing well enough you would fall for his charms otherwise. âIâll have to pass this timeâ.
âIs it because of Dahye?â He carefully wondered, taking your following silence as a yes. âWe can skip pregame and then Iâll tell my friends to make up some excuse for her not to join us at noraebangâ.
âHyunjin,â you couldnât help but chuckle. âYou donât have to do that, just go have fun with themâ.
âBut I wanna be with youâ he pouted once more.
âHyunieâŠâ it sounded like you were begging by now. âThe movieâs about to end anywayâ.
âAnd we were supposed to watch another once once it didâ he reminded you, later allowing a taunting smirk to curve up his lips when a certain idea made it to his head. âAre you so set on making me leave right now because youâre afraid you might not want me to leave at all if I stay any longer?â
You snorted, playfully yet gently poking his forehead. âSomeoneâs gotten a little too cocky, donât you think?â
âAm I wrong, though?â He pushed it. âDo you really want me to go?â
âHm?â
âDo you want me to go?â He repeated.
âYour friendsââ
âThatâs not what Iâm asking youâ he cut you off. âYou have this really bad habit of always avoiding my questions, you know?â
You found yourself lowering your head, feeling oh-so-little under his piercing stare.
Although Hyunjin loved seeing you nervous because of him and it was a very rare occurrence coming from you, right then, he wanted your eyes on him. So, placing two fingers under your chin, he tilted your head back to his eye level â both of you only realising how close you actually were when your eyes met.
âItâs a simple yes or no questionâ he specified, gently removing a strand of hair from your face. âDo you want me to go?â
âNoâ you answered truthfully this time.
He smiled brightly.
âButâBUT,â you emphasized before he could celebrate, leaning slightly back and lifting your index finger for him to pay attention. âLike I said, Iâm not letting you bail on your friends again, there will come a time theyâll get tired of it. You deserve to let loose and have some fun only with themâ.
âBut we were supposed to hang out todayâŠâ
âAnd we did?â
He frowned, clearly not happy with your answer.
âCome onnn,â you tried your best to convince him. âWeâll hang out again tomorrow anywayâ.
âWe will?â He perked up instantly, enough to make you feel shy all over again.
âI mean, if you want to, of courseâŠâ you corrected yourself. You had really become that used to seeing him both days every weekend now for it to be more of a given, huh?
âI believe itâs pretty clear by now that I always want to hang out with youâ.
You tried to hold back a smile â needless to say, your efforts were miserable. âOkay then, weâll see each other tomorrowâ.
âOkay,â he smiled, satisfied with your new plans. âLetâs go out this time, since staying in is too boring for you nowâ.
âWhen did I ever say that?!â
âWhen you said that this,â he motioned around your place. âWasnât competition for a night outâ.
âThat is so not what I meant?â You argued.
âStill,â he laughed, eyes softening when they locked with yours. âIâm taking you out for lunch, okay?â
You smiled timidly, nodding your head. âLetâs see if youâre not too hungover first. Might have to end up taking care of you insteadâ.
âNow I might get blackout drunk just to have you taking care of me tomorrowâ.
You shook your head in disbelief, unable to hide your amusement as you looked away. âNever mind, I will be sending either Yeji or your mum insteadâ.
âIâm joking, Iâm jokingâ he laughed, looking for your eyes to lock with his again and gently grabbing your hands that were resting on your lap. âIâll behave. Just let me take you out for lunch tomorrow, hm? Just us twoâ.
Staring down at your hands in his warm, soft ones, you couldnât help but get invaded with more questions than answers.
It felt nice⊠being touched by him felt nice. Being close to him as a whole made you feel all warm inside. And he was right when he joked about you being scared you wouldnât want him to leave at all if he stayed any longer, because truth was you already didnât. You wanted him to stay, as close as you were minutes before.
Was it okay for you to be this close? Both physically and also emotionally? To the point of talking every single day and finding a way to see each other more than you saw your own best friends?
Did you enjoy his touch so much because it came from him? Or was it because you missed being touched?
Was he like this with everyone else? With Dahye? Anyone else at all? Did he treat you differently from them? Or was he just a flirty person and what you were now considering to be some kind of special treatment was just him acting the same as he did with every other girl?
Were you beginning to fall for him? Had you really been that oblivious to your own feelings? Or were you just looking too much into it now because of Chanâs influence, and mistaking a platonic âand rather strongâ connection for something more?
Would Yeji be okay with it?
Too many questions were invading your mind, one right after the other, and you couldnât find a single answer to any of them just yet.
However, although you didnât know what you were feeling and were unsure about what demons were from your past and which ones were new, you did know one thing for sure: You were never as happy as when you were with him.
So, with a soft smile and a nod of your head, pushing any other thought for later tonight when you went to bed, you said the only thing you could answer to his request right then. âOkayâ.
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Jaune: "I don't know my real parents. I was abandoned during a bandit raid turned Grimm incursion."
Yang: "Which bandit tribe."
Jaune: *holds out a picture of Raven in her bandit mask* "The Branwen tribe."
Yang: "Hey... that weapon looks familiar.... And that's my Uncle's last name..." *pulls out her dad's team photo she yoinked before school*
Jaune and Yang: *Hold the photos close together to see the weapons closer*
Yang: "They're the same."
Jaune: "You know what that means?"
Yang: "Road Trip to get answers from a dead beat mom?"
Jaune: "Road Trip to get answers from a dead beat mom. *narrows his eyes at the photo* "I bet she has something to do with me being abandoned."
Do yang and jaune color swap next they will look like like twi s seperated at birth for so e reason
I mean they already look like twins separated at birth
Now thatâs a good AU actually. Blonde kid twins separated at birth.
Yang is left with Tai, and Raven keeps Jaune. Tai does know about the twins and argues with Raven about it, but in the end the blondes are separated. Her thinking is that one kid will be easier to handle, and at least her SON wonât become a Maiden and get dragged into Ozpinâs bullshit
Unfortunately, she realizes very quickly that actually she doesnât want EITHER kid, and now sheâs stuck with this baby. And she canât just dump Jaune on Tai, because that would involve admitting she was wrong
Branwen tribe, with baby in tow, raid a village (Arc family village đ) and the Grimm are summoned by the panic. Mama and Papa Arc go to defend the town and find a wailing baby abandoned in the rubble âaccidentallyâ
The strong survive and the weak donât. A twisted philosophy, and one that Raven is hiding behind when she abandons her son
Jaune is rapidly adopted into the Arc clan, and heâs Ravenâs son in only blood, raised by this family of golden retrievers. He and Yang donât know about each other until Beacon, because Tai never tells Yang (grief) and the Arcs donât know
Queue Parent Trap style twin discoveries when the two finally meet at Beacon
#rwby#rwby au#Branwen Twins#second edition#yang xiao long#jaune arc#raven branwen#taiyang xiao long#twins au#two idiots one braincell#They share a kiss down the line#And like a minute later they learn the truth#que Jaune lamenting his luck at falling for his sister when he's surrounded by women who aren't#Que Yang hating Raven even more#Que Pyrrha cheering and Ruby booing because their respective plans are now back/off the table
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ASHES OF A PROMISE
âą TITLE: ASHES OF A PROMISE
âą PAIRING: Lycan king!Jungkook x Werewolf!Reader
âąWORD COUNT: 15.3k
âą GENRE: Paranormal Romance, Dark Fantasy, Smut, Slow burn, Fluff (?), Tragic Romance, werewolf au, Royal au
âą TRIGGER WARNING: The following content contains themes of emotional distress, manipulation, rejection, and verbal abuse, including emotionally charged arguments and hurtful dialogue that could be distressing. There are references to violence, power dynamics, and trauma. Additionally, there are moments of self-doubt, intense emotional breakdowns, and interactions involving possessive and hostile behaviors. Please proceed with caution if these topics are sensitive or triggering for you.
âą SUMMARY: You were a hopeless romantic, dreaming of a mate who would love you as fiercely as you loved him. But when you finally meet your mate, you discover heâs no ordinary wolf â heâs the Lycan king, the alpha of all alphas. Worse, he neither wants you nor is willing to reject you, leaving you trapped in a loveless bond in his kingdom. As queen to a king who resents you, the mate bond grows stronger, making you more vulnerable with each passing day. Now, you must break through the walls around his heart and make him love you, because staying in this bond without love is unbearable, yet leaving isnât an option heâll allow.
âą a/n: This story is entirely a work of fiction and is the sole property of @kookiewithluv . The characters, events, and scenarios depicted are products of the imagination and are not intended to represent or reflect real-life situations, nor do I wish for anything portrayed here to occur in reality. I kindly ask that my work not be copied, translated, or reposted as your own on this or any other platform, including YouTube. Please respect the effort and originality behind this piece. Thank you for your understanding and support.
âąa/n: Hey, everyone! Howâs it going? I hope youâre all having a blast! So, here we areâChapter 1 is finally up, and let me just say, itâs a masterpiece of disappointment! Honestly, I think I might hate it even more than the prologue, which is saying something because that was basically my attempt at literary self-sabotage. Iâm pretty sure youâll read this and wonder if Iâve lost my mindâor my talent, if I ever had any. But hey, if you end up hating it, I totally understand; Iâll just be over here, crying in a corner and contemplating my life choices. So, enjoy this train wreck of a chapter⊠or donât, because either way, Iâll be doing the same!
PROLOGUE MASTERLIST 02
CHAPTER 1: THE MATE'S LAMENT
You pressed a trembling hand against your chest, the ache inside sharper than any wound. What did this mean? What had you done to deserve this crushing weight?
The thought pierced through you like a knife, and a ragged sob tore from your throat, scraping the walls raw as it escaped. Your whole body shook with the force of it. How could someone so beautiful be so cruel? How?
Maybe you didnât deserve any of it. Any of the love.
Your spiral was interrupted by the soft creak of the door. Startled, you lifted your tear-blurred eyes just as a small figure stepped inside. Her footsteps faltered as soon as she saw you, eyes wide and doe-like, her breath catching in her chest. One hand gripped the doorknob, knuckles white, while the other clenched into a tight fist at her side. She hesitated, before she finally let go of the door, letting it close with a soft click.
"Luna," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
She took a step toward you, then another, her deamnour unsure, almost hesitant, as if the space between you and her was filled with something fragile, something that might shatter if she came too close. Her small frame seemed to shrink even more as she neared, her shoulders hunched as if the weight of the moment was too much to bear. In three careful steps, she stood in front of you, shifting her weight from one foot to the other like she wanted to leave but couldnât. Her fingers nervously twisted the fabric of her sleeves, her gaze flickering to your tear-streaked face, then away, unable to hold it for too long.
"Hi," she started again, her voice hesitant, as if unsure of what to say, what to hold back. You could see the confusion in her eyes, flickering across her face as she tried to make sense of her own presence here. She didnât look like a maid or servant, nothing about her carried that air. Her gaze flitted around the room, nervously taking in everything but youânever you, not for longer than a fleeting second.
"His Majesty mentioned you were injured... and insisted someone should tend to you immediately?" Her words came out like a question, not a statement. Her eyes finally, really, landed on you, sweeping over your body as if searching for visible wounds. But you said nothing, offering her no comfort or explanation. You could see her stiffen, her shoulders drawing up, tension coiling through her body. Her fingers twitched at her sides, clenching and unclenching. Was it anxiety? Or was she angry? You couldnât tell. Angry at you? Angry at the situation?
She stood there, rigid and uncomfortable, like she was trying to hold back a storm raging inside her.
"You donât... you donât look physically hurt," she said at last, her voice faltering despite the firmness she was trying to inject into it. Her tone was small, unsure, like she was afraid of overstepping.
"Iâm not," you replied, finally breaking the silence. She let out a soft, breathy exhale, her lips parting slightly in relief. For a moment, the tension seemed to leave her body, but only briefly. Her hands still shook as she moved closer, taking a seat beside you on the bed. She tried to appear composed, confident even, but her worried eyes betrayed her. They darted over your face, as if searching for something she didnât quite understand.
Her posture was straighter now, but her fingers were knotted together in her lap, betraying her own emotions, she was feeling. She was doing her best to stay in control, but the way her hands trembled gave her away.
You didnât understand what had her so on edge, not fully. Maybe deep down, you knew, but you didnât want to acknowledge it. You could feel itâthe pull. You were her Luna, and her wolf was bound to you, connected in a way she couldnât resist. She was loyal to the core, and now that you were hurting, her wolf could feel it all. It was written in the way her breath hitched, in the tightening of her jaw, in the way her hands trembled despite her outward composure.
Even if you didnât know her exact role within the pack, you could tell she was someone important. The weight of the connection was pressing down on her, forcing her to share the burden of emotions that werenât her own. She had no choice in the matterâher wolf was loyal, whether she wanted it or not. And here she was, sitting beside you, a silent, anxious witness to the pain you carried inside.
"Are you okay?" she asked softly, her left hand landing on your shoulder with a slow, soothing touch. But the question felt hollow to youâmeaningless. Even she knew the answer. It was as if she didnât want to hear the truth, didnât want to face it. She wanted the lie. She wanted you to say you were fine, that everything was manageable. But you couldnât.
âNo,â the word slipped from your lips in a breathy whisper, unplanned, unwelcome. It was already out before you could pull it back, and the floodgates opened. âIâm not.â You shook your head slightly, your voice cracking as you turned to her, eyes wide and raw. âNothingâs okay. Nothing!â The confession ripped out of you, trembling and desperate, like a wound finally exposed.
She didnât hesitate. She pulled you into her arms, wrapping them tightly around you, holding you like she could shield you from everything that had broken you. Her embrace was warm, her hands gentle as they pressed against your back, but it still didnât reach the cold emptiness inside. You were like a traveler lost in a winter storm, seeking shelter but finding nothing, standing on an endless, frozen street with nowhere to go. The comfort she offered felt distant, as if you were too far gone to feel it.
"It will be okay," she murmured into your hair, but you knew better. You werenât naĂŻve. You had seen the truthâfelt it. How could it ever be okay when the weight of everything had already crushed you? There was no hope, only more pain ahead. You could feel it in your bones, in the ache that refused to let go.
âI am sure of it,â she continued, pulling back slightly to look at you, her hands gently wiping the tears from your face. Her touch was tender, but her words stung. âYouâre his mate, Luna. Heâll come around. You just have to hold on. Donât cry, please. My wolf⊠sheâs going crazy.â
Her voice broke, and you realized it wasnât just her trying to comfort youâit was her wolf, the pull of the bond making her feel everything you were going through. Her desperation was palpable. At least she was here, trying, when the one person who should have been with you had left you to cry alone.
You nodded, your head bobbing violently, avoiding her eyes. You didnât have the strength to argue, not now. You wiped your tears with the back of your hand, the sleeve of your white dress smudging black as your mascara mixed with the salty wetness. But the tears wouldnât stop. They just kept coming, rolling down your cheeks as if they had a life of their own, and you were powerless to hold them back.
âCome, letâs go.â She stood up, brushing her hands nervously over the front of her gown, before turning to look back at you. Her soft, innocent eyes locked onto your face, but you didnât move. You just stared up at her, perplexed and still too disoriented to understand.
âWhat happened, Luna?â Her voice was gentle, almost coaxing.
âGo where?â you asked, blinking slowly, trying to make sense of the situation.
âOh⊠to your room,â she said, her voice wavering with uncertainty. Her fingers twisted around the edge of her sleeve as she spoke. âHis Majesty told me to prepare it for you.â She hesitated, watching for your reaction, her gaze flickering from your face to the floor, as if unsure whether she should continue. âHe chose it himself,â she added, more hesitant now, her words hanging awkwardly in the air.
The statement only deepened your confusion, and your brow furrowed. You had known he wouldnât let you stay with him in his roomâthat much had been clear. But why did he bring you here in the first place? What was the point of it all?
âThen why did he bring me here?â The question slipped out before you could stop it, your voice sharper than you intended. It was absurd, the way he had toyed with your heart, made you feel vulnerable, only to discard you like you were nothing. What was he thinking?
The girl fidgeted, her hands wringing together nervously. âI fear only His Majesty holds the answer to that, my Luna,â she whispered, casting her gaze down, avoiding your eyes, as if she could feel the weight of your frustration, your confusion.
âBut why not here?â you asked, your voice soft but insistent, as your instincts clawed to keep you rooted in this room. His scent still lingered, that familiar mix of ocean water and coconut, wrapping around you like a lifeline. It was strange, undeniably so, but to you, it felt like home. Your body refused to let go of what little remained of him here, as if holding onto it might somehow ease the ache in your chest.
The girl shifted on her feet, her eyes wide as she struggled to find the right words. âLuna, this is the royal chamber,â she began, her hands fidgeting nervously at her sides.
You frowned, glancing around the room. âIsnât the whole palace royal?â you asked, your voice laced with confusion. You finally rose to your feet, taking in the grand space around you. It was beautifulâmajestic, even. Despite everything, you couldnât help but admire it. A part of you loved this room, wanted to stay here just a little longer.
âThatâs true,â she admitted, her voice hesitant. âButâŠâ She trailed off, biting her lip as if weighing whether she should continue. You looked at her, curiosity sparking in your eyes, though the confusion still lingered. âThis chamber⊠itâs reserved for the king and queen. They stay here after the mating ceremony with the pack. Itâs tradition.â
She was speaking quickly now, as if nervous about how much she was revealing. Her feet shuffled anxiously beneath her, her gaze darting from you to the door. âWhat tradition?â you asked, stepping toward her, your voice edged with frustration.
She hesitated, wringing her hands before finally speaking again. âThe first time the king brings his mate here, itâs only toâŠâ She paused, glancing up at you, clearly uneasy. âTo mate. If they donât, they must wait for two full moons before⊠before they can try again.â
âHuh?â The word fell from your lips, flat and disbelieving. It made no senseâif this room held such significance, why would he have brought you here only to leave you feeling like you didnât matter? You stared at her, trying to piece together what was happening, but the more you thought about it, the less it made sense.
You exhaled sharply, running a hand through your hair as the weight of it all pressed down on you. Nothing about this felt right, and yet here you were, standing in the middle of a hall staring at a room that wasnât meant for youânot yet, at least.
âLuna, please walk ahead,â she urged softly, a hint of panic creeping into her voice. âIf His Majesty finds out you were walking behind me, he will have my head. And⊠well, my mate being the royal general probably wonât help much in this case.â
You blinked in realization, your mind connecting the dots. Her mate⊠Neil. The royal general. You remembered their story wellâhow it had caused an uproar just a few months ago. She was an omega, and he was a powerful, high-ranking general. It was unheard of, taboo even, for someone of his rank to mate with someone so low in status. But Neil had fought for her, tooth and nail, defying tradition for the love of his mate.
Back then, when you heard about their story, it had filled you with hope. You had dreamed of a love like thatâsomeone who would fight for you, who would stand by your side no matter what. But now, you werenât so sure. You had the king himself as your mate, but did you really have him? You had everything⊠and yet, nothing.
As you nodded at her request, you moved forward through the empty halls, your feet heavy with each step. The silence between you both felt oppressive, weighed down by unspoken questions. One question above all lingered in your mind, echoing with every step: Why did he bring me here?
Everything had seemed fine at first. But as soon as you reached the royal chamber, something had shifted in Jungkook. His whole demeanor changedâcold, distant, like he didnât want you at all.
Your thoughts churned as you walked, your hands brushing against the fabric of your dress, your fingers absently tracing the delicate embroidery. You remembered the way his jaw had tightened, how his eyes darkened with something you couldnât quite placeâanger? Fear? Disgust?
âLuna, here we are,â Patricia announced softly, her voice warm and welcoming as she opened the door to your room. It wasnât as grand as the royal chamber, but it had a certain charm. The crimson walls immediately caught your attention, the color soothing and familiarâit was a shade you loved.
Patricia stood by the doorway, a hopeful glint in her eyes. âDo you like it, Luna?â she asked, her voice bright, almost chirping with excitement. She clasped her hands in front of her, shifting slightly from foot to foot, clearly eager for your approval.
A small, genuine smile tugged at the corner of your lips as you glanced around the room. âYes,â you replied, your gaze settling on a vase in the corner. Its intricate design and deep red flowers seemed to echo the mood of the room. âItâs lovely.â You turned back to her, your smile softening, but something felt off. âThank youâŠâ You trailed off, realizing you didnât know her name, despite spending so much time with her.
She giggled, the sound light and carefree, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. âYou can call me Patricia,â she said, her tone almost teasing.
âPatriciaâŠâ you repeated softly. She smiled wider, pleased with your response.
âWell, Luna,â she said, stepping back toward the door, âIâll leave you now. You should rest.â Her eyes lingered on you for a moment longer, as if she wanted to say more but thought better of it. She turned to leave, but you couldnât help yourself.
âAre you heading back to the gathering?â you asked, your voice catching just slightly as you remembered the nightâs events.
Patricia paused, glancing over her shoulder. âNo, itâs over.â
âOver?â you frowned. âBut wasnât it important?â
She shrugged, her tone light, dismissive. âNot really.â
Her casual response left you with more questions than answers, but before you could say anything else, Patricia moved toward the door, and the only sound that escaped your lips was a quiet, âOh.â
Patriciaâs voice broke through your thoughts, snapping you back to the moment. âPlease excuse me, Luna. My mate must be waiting for me,â she said gently, her voice tinged with warmth as she spoke of her mate.
You nodded, not trusting your voice, and watched her leave, the soft click of the door sealing you in the quiet room. Alone.
You slowly made your way to the bed, your body heavy with exhaustion. Just as you were about to lie down, you paused, realizing you didnât have anything comfortable to wear for the night. The realization hit you like a dull thud in your chestâPatricia had taken care of everything, yet this one detail, your clothes, had been forgotten.
You let out a long, tired breath, shoulders slumping as you gave in. "What could I have done, anyway?" you muttered to yourself. There wasnât much choice left now. You flopped onto the bed, the mattress soft beneath your weight, cradling your tired body.
The room was bathed in a soft silver glow, the moonlight filtering through the open window. Its light danced gently on the floor, casting a peaceful glow over the room as you reached over to turn off the switch. The curtains fluttered, brushing softly against the windowsill, swaying with the rhythm of the cold night breeze. Each gust sent a shiver through the room, a subtle reminder of the world outside, yet it felt so far from where you lay.
You stared out of the window, eyes tracing the outline of the moon hanging bright in the dark sky. It was beautiful, breathtaking even, but your mind was elsewhere. Too much had happened in the past few hours, too many changes for you to grasp. Your life had flipped upside down in the blink of an eye, and you still didnât know if it was for better or worse.
Your chest tightened with the weight of everythingâthe uncertainty, the confusion, the aching loneliness that sat heavy inside you like a stone. The whirlwind of thoughts swirled in your mind, twisting and turning, never settling long enough for you to catch your breath.
You didnât even realize when your eyelids began to droop, when the tiredness finally pulled you under. Your last thought, tangled and blurry, was of himâof the cold distance between you, of the things left unsaid. And then, sleep claimed you, taking you away from the chaos, if only for a little while.
âââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââ
âLuna,â a soft, melodic voice broke through the fog of your deep sleep, coaxing you gently. You stirred, rolling to your side, trying to escape the harsh sunlight now streaming through the windows and landing directly on your face.
âLuna, wake up,â the voice came again, more insistent. You groaned, forcing your eyes open, blinking against the light. Patricia was standing beside your bed, crouched slightly, shielding you from the sun with her body. Her lips curved into a smile when she saw you stirring, and she backed away as you groggily sat up, rubbing your eyes.
The groan in your throat grew louder as you tried to shake off the heavy weight of sleep, your body protesting. "What time is it?" you muttered, rubbing at your face, a wide yawn slipping out before you could stop it.
âSeven,â Patricia replied, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion as a giggle escaped her. She didnât seem to understand why you were asking.
âSeven?â you repeated, eyes widening. âItâs so early!â you whined, dragging out the words as you slumped back against the headboard.
Patriciaâs eyes went wide in shock, her mouth hanging open as if you had said something utterly ridiculous. âWhat?â she nearly yelled, making you flinch. Realizing sheâd startled you, she quickly apologized. âYou must be teasing me,â she said, her voice softer now, though still filled with disbelief.
You raised an eyebrow, genuinely confused. âWhy would I do that? Why are you so shocked?â you asked, slowly crawling out of bed, stretching your stiff limbs as you yawned again.
âLuna, itâs past seven, actually,â Patricia said, her tone matter-of-fact as she crossed her arms. âEveryone here wakes up at four!â
Your mouth fell open, and you froze mid-stretch. âFour?â you repeated, staring at her as if she had just said something in another language. "You're joking, right?"
She shook her head, her eyes wide with sincerity, clearly baffled by your reaction. You stood there, at a loss for words, trying to process the absurdity of it all. Four in the morning? That was barely even night!
âWhy?â was all you could manage to ask, your mind racing with disbelief. You wanted to scream, âWhat the hell do you guys do at four in the morning?â
âItâs just how it is here,â Patricia replied, her voice calm now, though her eyes were still fixed on you with a hint of curiosity, as if trying to understand your reaction. âJust bath and get ready. His Majesty wants to meet you.â
âMe?â You pointed incredulously at yourself, your index finger hovering in the air as disbelief washed over you. Why would he want to see you, especially after everything that had happened last night? A cold sensation crept through your bones, traveling up your spine. You took a shaky breath as your wolf stirred at the back of your mind, sensing the mere thought of your mate. She hadnât spoken to you since last night, and you had been too wrapped up in grief to even consider reaching out.
âYes. I also brought you some clothes.â Patricia gestured to the edge of the bed, where a beautiful red satin dress lay. You nodded silently, trying to calm the swirl of emotions in your chest. As you took two hesitant steps toward the bathroom, you froze, suddenly unsure.
Patricia seemed to read your thoughts. She pointed to a door on the left side of the room, and you nodded gratefully, giving her a small smile before darting inside.
The bathroom was nothing short of breathtaking, with marble tiles and a large shower that seemed to beckon you. You didnât have time to admire it, though. You quickly turned on the shower, letting the water warm up as you glanced at your reflection. Your heart raced, knowing you needed to hurry.
As the water cascaded over you, you joked aloud, âIf I bathe any faster, I might just become a fish!â You scrubbed yourself quickly, wishing you had more time to enjoy the luxury, but the thought of Jungkook waiting propelled you forward. âOkay, speed bathing, world record, here I come!â you teased, rinsing off and turning off the shower in a rush.
With a swift motion, you slipped into the red dress. It hugged your figure perfectly, accentuating curves you didnât know you had, the fabric silky against your skin. You spun around, admiring your reflection for a brief moment before your thoughts turned back to the meeting. You took a deep breath and stepped out of the bathroom.
âLuna, weâre already late!â Patricia knocked impatiently on the door, her voice pulling you from your trance. The aroma of food wafted through the air, wrapping around you like a comforting blanket, but it felt too early for you to consider eating.
âLuna, here, have something before we leave,â she urged, holding out a plate as you emerged.
âIâm not really hungry,â you replied, shaking your head slightly, feeling your stomach churn in nervous anticipation. Patriciaâs gaze narrowed slightly as she assessed you for a moment, then she took your hand gently, guiding you to sit on the edge of the bed.
"I suggest you eat. Believe me, you'll need it," she said, her tone firm, emphasizing the word need. Although hunger wasn't gnawing at your stomach, her earnestness made you feel the weight of her words. You quickly found yourself nibbling on whatever was piling up on your plate, each bite more rushed than the last, as if the food would somehow fortify you for what lay ahead.
After you gobbled down the last bite, you shot up from the bed, the urgency in her demeanor making your heart race. Patricia had gone from bouncing on her tippy toes to sitting next to you, fidgeting with her fingers in her lap, her nervous obvious. You felt her eyes on you, a silent request pushing you to eat faster without her saying a word.
âLetâs go,â you finally said, your voice steady despite the nerves bubbling in your stomach. She nodded vigorously, her eyes brightening as she stood and led the way out of the room.
âWhere are we really going?â you asked, your curiosity piqued.
âTo your his majesty's study room,â she stated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. You could only blink in her as she sprinted down the hall. You followed her, feeling a bit like a lost child trying to keep up with an overly eager parent.
âLuna, please walk beside me, not behind me,â Patricia said, glancing over her shoulder, her voice tinged with silent frustration. You noted how her fingers twisted together, betraying her emotions.
You quickened your pace, taking two long strides to match her side, a faint smile tugging at your lips as you caught up. âSorry! I didnât mean to lag behind,â you said, trying to lighten the mood, though a small part of you understood her worry and frustration.
Soon, you found yourself standing in front of a closed door, a chill of apprehension creeping down your spine. Patricia halted, taking a deep breath that seemed to stretch in the air, oppressively. You watched her knuckles turn white as she knocked, each rap echoing through the silence.
Once.
Twice.
Thrice.
A gruff voice came from behind the door, âCome in.â As she pushed the door open, she gestured for you to enter first. You hesitated for a moment, your heart racing in your chest, then nodded and stepped inside.
As you crossed the threshold, the moment felt surreal. Your wolf stirred at the sound of his voice, an unsettling mix of yearning and pain washing over you, but the overwhelming grief she carried held her back. The room was dimly lit, casting shadows that danced around the edges, but your focus was solely on him. Jungkook sat behind a massive desk, his dark eyes locking onto yours the instant you entered. They seemed to deepen, filled with an intensity that made your stomach drop, and a cold, menacing smirk crept across his softly thin lips.
You felt your heartbeat quicken as you approached him, each step a battle against the swirl of emotions inside you. His brow arched as you stood before his desk, a silent provocation hanging between you. The weight of his gaze bore down on you, and you had to fight the urge to bare your neck to him.
From your left, you caught a glimpse of Patricia standing close to Neil, their heads bent together as they whispered something to each other. Neil gazed at her with an expression that made your heart acheâadoration shimmering in his eyes. Their fingers intertwined behind their backs, a quiet intimacy that made your chest tighten. You couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy, for the warmth of shared affection, and it tugged painfully at your heartstrings. You wanted that too.
With a determined look, you turned back to Jungkook, narrowing your eyes in defiance. He was still watching you, a predator relishing the hunt, and his smile widened at your glare. His lips stretched slightly before he caught himself, the playful facade melting into a serious demeanor. You noticed the way his jaw tightened, the flicker of something mingling with intrigue in his gaze.
"What urgent business made Your Majesty summon me here?" you shot back, your tone dripping with sarcasm. The taunt in your voice hung in the air like an electric charge, sparking a reaction in him. His expression shifted, a flash of irritation crossing his face as he absorbed your words, but he quickly masked it.
âI appreciate your time. Thereâs an important matter I wish to discuss with youâone that requires your attention.â His tone was unnervingly calm, as if your irritation were merely a nuisance to be brushed aside. It ignited your anger further.
âWhat matters?â you demanded, your voice edged with defiance as you crossed your arms, refusing to back down from his piercing gaze.
Jungkook leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled beneath his chin, his expression unreadable. âNow that you are here, and this will be your home, it is time to leave behind the ways of your old pack. There are rules you must follow, and you shall learn them in due course,â Jungkook stated, his voice steady, but the words hit you like a slap.
You straightened your spine, glaring at him. âAnd, may I ask what rules I need to follow?â The irritation in your voice was clear, though you fought to keep it even.
âFirst, youâre not allowed to leave the palace without my permission,â he replied, his tone calm and unwavering. The calmness only ignited the fire of rebellion inside you.
âWhat? Youâre serious?â You narrowed your eyes, your hands curling into fists. âThatâs absurd.â
âvery,â he said, brushing off your defiance as if it were a passing breeze. âSecond, you wonât form close relationships with the staff or pack members. And third, you're not to attend pack meetings.â
âYouâre isolating me,â you accused, each word sharpened by the rising heat of your frustration. âDo you hear yourself? You canât possibly expect me to follow this nonsense.â
âYouâre also restricted from certain areas of the palace, especially the the royal chamber.â
âIs this just another way to keep me locked up like one of your pets?â you spat, sarcasm dripping from your words as you crossed your arms.
Jungkookâs eyes flashed with a brief flicker of irritation, but he masked it quickly. âYouâll present yourself formally at all events. And youâre not to mention our mating bond to anyone.â
Your laugh was bitter, mocking. âThis is pathetic. Do you hear yourself? You want me to pretend to be your perfect little queen while you strip me of every ounce of dignity.â
His expression didnât change, which only fueled your anger more. âYouâll follow a strict schedule, including etiquette lessons, and as I said, no physical training.â
âNo physical training? You canât stop me from fighting.â You took another step forward, daring him to try. âYou donât get to decide that for me.â
âI just did,â he replied coolly, eyes narrowing as he looked down at you. âYou're not to challenge me in front of the pack. You will dress appropriately, as befits a queen."
You clenched your jaw, a white-hot rage bubbling under your skin.
âYouâll attend all royal ceremonies, whether you want to or not. And there will be no emotional displays in public,â he continued, his voice like iron.
You advanced on him, fury swirling in your veins. âAnd what if I do?â you dared, eyes gleaming with defiance. âWhat if I make a scene? What if I let the whole pack see exactly how you treat me?â
âThere will be no physical intimacy between us, unless I say otherwise.â
That statement landed like a blow. For a second, you couldnât respond, your heart hammering in your chest. But you recovered quickly, your lips curling into a sharp, humorless smile.
He remained unmoved. âYou will not voice your opinion on pack matters, nor will you challenge the council.â
Your eyes burned with a fierce light. âIâll challenge anyone I damn well please,â you snapped, stepping even closer. âYou can make all the rules you want, but I'll do what I wish.â
âThats all! I trust thatâs clear?â
âCrystal clear,â you growled, sarcastically, your fists shaking with the need to lash out. âBut donât expect me to just obey like one of your trained wolves.â
âpatricia will accompany you back to your room,â he said, gesturing toward Patricia, who stood dumbfounded, her mouth agape, her eyes darting between you and Jungkook.
âYe-yes, Your Majesty,â she stammered, clearly as shocked as you were.
She stepped closer to you, grabbing your hand and tugging gently as if to coax you away, but you couldnât help throwing daggers at Jungkook with your eyes.
âLuna, please,â Shina pleaded, pulling at your sleeve.
But you werenât done. Not by a long shot.
You turned sharply, locking eyes with Shina, who was pale and clearly terrified, but before she could speak, you whipped around to face him one last time. âIâm not your possession, and I never will be. One way or another, I will make my own choices.â
His lips twisted into a tight smile. âWeâll see,â he said, a low growl rumbling in his throat.
âI guess we will,â you shot back, your voice steady, daring, as you stormed out of the room, Patricia scrambling to follow.
As soon as the door clicked shut behind you, the floodgates of your emotions burst open. âHe is a bastard!â you yelled, the words echoing through the room. Patriciaâs hand flew to her mouth, her eyes widening in shock as she darted a nervous glance at the door.
âLuna, he can hear you!â she hissed, but your anger had already ignited a fire within you, consuming all rational thought.
âI know!â you snapped back, a defiant spark igniting in your chest as you started walking like some deranged animal.
âWait!â she called, scrambling to catch up to you. âWhere are you going?â
âTo my room! Duh!â you exclaimed, rolling your eyes as if the answer were the most obvious thing in the world.
âItâs on the other side,â she said, pointing right with an urgency that made her look almost comical. âAnd donât say âduh!ââ
âWhatever!â you shot back, heading in the direction she indicated, arms swinging at your sides.
As soon as you reached your room, you let out a primal scream of frustration, your voice ricocheting off the walls. You began to roam the room, while Patricia watched you with concern, her brow furrowing.
Just then, a sharp knock interrupted your spiral. You turned to Patricia, who nodded at you, her eyes wide as if to say, âBrace yourself.â
âCome in!â you called, trying to sound nonchalant, though your heart raced.
The door swung open, revealing Shina, the beta female, stepping inside with a bright smile. âShina, FINALLY!â Patricia exclaimed, relief flooding her voice. You felt a flash of offense bubble up inside youâwas it really that bad with you?
Shina let out a light laugh before turning her gaze to you, offering a small nod. âIâve been told to serve as your etiquette teacher,â she said, executing a playful curtsy that made you giggle. âWeâre going to have so much fun!â
You couldnât help but smile back at her eagerness, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. âFun? Is that what weâre calling it?â
âI thought she would be provided with a real teacher,â Patricia chimed in, throwing Shina a side-eye that was dripping with sarcasm.
âAre you doubting me?â Shina asked, feigning offense, a hand on her hip, her expression a mix of mock indignation and amusement.
âNo, of course not!â Patricia replied, forcing a sweet smile that barely hid her skepticism. âIâm just doubting your etiquette. Do you even have any?â
Your eyes widened in disbelief. Youâd never seen Patricia like this; she was usually a bundle of nerves. But now, a smirk played at the corners of her mouth.
âExcuse me?!â Shina gasped, placing a hand on her chest in mock horror. âIâll have you know that I can differentiate between a salad fork and a dessert fork!â
âYeah! And, I eat water. But seriously, why you?â Patricia asked, her brow furrowing in confusion. Shina simply shrugged her shoulders, a nonchalant gesture that only fueled your suspicions. You knew the answer all too well: he didn't want anyone to know you were his mateâjust the people who had to be in the loop.
âShall we start?â Shina asked, breaking the tension as she clapped her hands together. Patricia flopped down onto a nearby chair by the window, her movement unceremonious as she rolled her eyes. âYeah, be ready. But let me warn you, sheâs the same woman who once called the duke âDukie.ââ
âDonât mind her,â Shina said, waving her hand dismissively as if brushing away a fly. âSheâs just a whiny ass.â
âI heard that!â Patricia shot back, her voice sharper than a knife, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at her lips.
âI wanted you to hear it,â you chimed in, stifling a laugh at the bickering.
âItâs fine then,â Patricia said, crossing her arms defiantly, her chin tilted up as if she were accepting a challenge.
The two of them were practically squabbling like an old married couple, and you couldn't help but feel amused. Shina leaned in closer, her eyes sparkling with mischief. âSo, Lunaââ
âCall me Bee,â you said, cutting her off as a genuine smile breaking through the heaviness in your chest. The nickname, a sweet remnant from your mother. Since her death, no one had used it, and it stung to remember how alone you felt without your wolf at your side after Jungkook had left you. It was as if a gaping void had settled in your mind.
âAre you sure?â Shina asked, glancing at Patricia, who wore an expression of surprise that mirrored your own.
âYes,â you affirmed, nodding your head fervently.
âOkie!â Shina chirped, bouncing on her feet.
The next few hours dissolved into a whirlwind of laughter and playful jabs from Patricia as Shina animatedly imparted lessons on royal protocol and warrior ethics. You found yourself gasping for breath between fits of giggles at their banter, the absurdity of their comments lightening your mood. Shina was undeniably fun, and you noticed how Patricia relaxed, the rigid lines of her discipline softening in Shinaâs presence.
âFinally, we are done!â you screeched, flopping onto your bed like a rag doll, your limbs sprawling out. Patricia, who had been perched on the edge of the bed for what felt like an eternity, looked over at you, a mix of concern and amusement on her face.
âBee, that wasnât very queen-likeââ she began, her tone teasing, but you shot her a playful glare.
âShut up!â Shina interjected, her laughter ringing out like a bell. Patricia merely shook her head, a smile breaking through her feigned exasperation. You found it funny how their relationship worked; Patricia was the serious one, and Shina was the carefree one. You couldn't help but wonder how the two of them got along so well in a world that felt so strange to you.
âBee, now we gotta go,â Shina said, her voice dropping slightly as she held out her hand to Patricia, their fingers interlacing.
âWhere?â you asked, a flicker of disappointment gnawing at your insides. You didnât want them to leave. They had become your lifeline, distracting you from thoughts of Jungkook and the confusion he left behind. Without them, the looming silence would creep back in, suffocating you to no end.
âIâm sorry, Bee, but we have urgent matters to address,â Shina said, her smile tinged with sadness. âBut you can come with us if you want to,â she added, her expression brightening as hope glimmered in her eyes.
You nodded eagerly. âYes! I want to come!â
The three of you made your way out of the room, and a big smile spread across your face. Life in your old pack had been tough, each day a struggle to find your place, but it was different here. Despite Jungkookâs coldness and the constant feeling of not being enough, you were grateful for the friendship blossoming around you. You didnât know if Patricia and Shina considered you friends, but you sure did. Patricia still maintained a hint of formality, but you sensed sheâd warm up eventually, just like Shina had.
âWhere are we heading to?â you asked, glancing between the two as they shared a conspiratorial look, excitement dancing in their eyes.
âTo the training field,â Shina answered, her voice light and cheerful. She looked at you with a soft smile that made her cheeks flush. âshe is the generalâs mate, so she is responsible for training the female wolves.â she said pointing at Patricia, as she also blushed for the reasons unknown to you. Her shyness was endearing, but the way her smile faded a bit as she added, âAnd we also need to train,â hinted at the challenge ahead.
Unfortunately, Jungkook had forbidden you from trainingâan order that left you feeling more like a caged bird than ever. You didnât understand why he loathed you so much; his harshness felt like a wall between you. But deep down, you knew this couldnât last. You couldnât keep stewing in sadness and anger while he remained a closed book, hiding his emotions from you. You needed to confront him soon; you needed your mate, and he needed you, too, whether he wanted to admit it or not.
âOh! So you mean youâre going there to train and not to eye-fuck the beta?â Patricia piped up, her voice teasing, a wide smirk lighting up her face and a laugh bubbled from your throat.
Shinaâs eyes widened in mock horror, her mouth forming an exaggerated âO.â âPatricia! You canât say that! We have to keep it professional!â She feigned scandal, a hand pressed dramatically against her chest, yet the laughter dancing in her eyes betrayed her.
âProfessional? Please!â Patricia rolled her eyes, flicking her hair over her shoulder with a flourish. âThe only thing you do professionally is blushing every time beta Kian walks by! I am like woman, he is your damn mate. Get a grip!â
âOh, and what about you, Miss âI Canât Stop Staringâ?â Shina shot back, playfully bumping her shoulder against Patricia's as they walked side by side. âIf I recall, you nearly drooled on Neil the other day!â
âHey! Heâs just soââ Patricia started, her cheeks flushing a deep red, ââdreamy! I canât help it!â She huffed, crossing her arms defiantly but couldnât hide her smirk.
âDreamy? More like a heartthrob disaster waiting to happen!â Shina retorted, throwing her head back in laughter, their voices filling the hallway with warmth.
âWill he be there too?â you asked, your voice wavering slightly as both of them paused their bickering to focus on you. Shinaâs eyes lit up with a knowing smirk that made your heart race, while Patricia's expression softened, a hint of sympathy in her gaze. She smiled gently, but it didnât reach her eyes as she whispered, âYes.â
You nodded slowly, the weight of her understanding hanging in the air. Patricia knew the ache of longing all too well; she had fought her own battles to be with her mate. Neither of you spoke further on the subject as you continued walking toward the training ground. It felt like a long trek, the palace sprawling before you.
As you entered the training field, the chaos hit you like a wave. The air buzzed with energy as female wolves sparred, fists flying in a flurry of movement. Grunts of exertion and the thud of bodies colliding filled the space. It was a sight to behold, but not the prettiestâsome faces were twisted with concentration, others were flushed with effort, while some were twisted in pain.
Shina and Patricia quickly motioned you to take a seat in one corner, a quick nod from Shina signaling for you to stay put while they dashed off to change into their training gear.
You took a moment to absorb the scene before you. The female wolves fought with determination, their bodies glistening with sweat under the warm sun. The breathy grunts hanging heavy in the air and... you wanted to join too.
Yet, as you sat on the sidelines, you felt a pang of frustration at Jungkookâs orders. Why had he insisted you stay away from training? You glanced toward the empty side of the field, the male wolvesâ training areaâsilent for now, but you knew they would be there soon. Would Jungkook be among them? Your heart raced at the thought, and your wolf stirred again.
Soon, both Shina and Patricia came sprinting toward you, their bodies clad in sleek training gear that hugged their athletic frames. Shina practically leaped into your space as she exclaimed, âBee, she will measure the performance of them all! You can wait here while I go help her.â The brightness in her eyes was contagious, and you nodded in agreement, feeling a little like a lost puppy trying to keep up.
They dashed away toward the combat pit, and you watched as Patricia's voice rang out like a bell, instantly commanding attention. âListen up, everyone!â she called, her tone firm yet encouraging. The warriors immediately fell into line, forming neat rows as Shina moved among them, dividing them into teams with an air of authority that surprised you. It lasted only a moment before the clashing of fists and feet began, filling the air with a rhythm of combat.
You leaned back against the cool wall, eyes wide as you observed the spectacle. The warriors displayed impressive skills, each move fluid and powerful. You couldnât help but feel a twinge of inadequacyâthere was no way you could compete, even against the weakest here. This was the royal pack, after all, and they were warriors forged from years of dedication and strength.
Still, you found a sliver of enjoyment in the chaos. Watching them fight was far better than sitting alone in your room, staring at the walls that felt like they were closing in on you. And soon the other training area began to fill up. You spotted Kian entering first, his presence commanding. Shinaâs eyes lit up, practically sparkling as she stared at him, her focus wavering. âShina, focus!â Patricia called out, exasperation lacing her tone as she tried to bring her back to reality. But Shinaâs gaze kept drifting back to her shirtless mate, who seemed completely oblivious to the effect he had on everyone around him. Kian was not just hot; he was undeniably hot hot, the kind of hot that drew attention without effort.
You let out a soft chuckle at their antics, but then, out of the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of a dark figure emerging from the shadows. Your heart skipped a beat as a chill raced down your spine. The air around you shifted, crackling with an intense energy that sent heat biting through your bones. A deep, primal desire ignited in your core, wrapping around your heart like a vine.
He was here.
Jungkook.
You turned your head slightly, trying to catch a glimpse of him without being obvious, and there he stood in the farthest corner of the training ground, shirtless. Jungkook's eyes were locked on you, igniting a fire deep within your chest. His jaw tightened, and his brows furrowed in a way that made your heart race. The world around you seemed to fade, leaving only his intense gaze that set you ablaze.
With a deliberate slowness, he strode toward the combat pit where Kian waited, a devilish glint flashing in his eyes. Neil, the general, stood off to the side, focused on the other male warriors, a commanding presence that left no room for doubt. But all you could think about was Jungkook. Your breath hitched as he casually began to unbutton his white shirt, each button giving way one by one, exposing more of his chiselled torso. You let out a low whine before you even realized it was your wolf reacting to the sight of him.
Out of all the times for your wolf to make her presence known, she chose now? But who could blame her? Your mate was standing there in low-hanging trousers, his bare skin catching the sunlight and highlighting the contours of his muscles. The sight was intoxicating, and a primal urge surged through you as your wolf growled in your mind, a low rumble of frustration mingling with desire.
âLook at him, Bee. He is so hot,â she purred, her voice sultry and teasing. âBee, why doesn't he want us?â You could feel her longing vibrating through your very being, making it hard to concentrate on anything else.
As Jungkook and Kian circled each other in the pit. Kian lunged first, throwing a sharp right hook aimed at Jungkookâs jaw, but Jungkook sidestepped with lightning speed, barely lifting an eyebrow in acknowledgement. Kian was quick to recover, spinning on his heel and throwing a swift jab to Jungkookâs ribs, but it was met with nothing but air. Jungkook had already ducked low, his body moving like it had anticipated the strike long before it happened.
Kian came in harder this time, eyes blazing with determination, throwing a barrage of punches. Jungkook dodged the first few easily, his movements fluid, then caught Kianâs wrist mid-punch with a grip like iron. For a second, they stood there, locked in place, the power struggle evident. Jungkook's eyes narrowed, his grip tightening just enough for Kian to wince.
Without warning, Kian yanked his arm free, pivoting low and sweeping Jungkook's legs out from under him. Jungkook hit the ground hard, but before Kian could press the advantage, Jungkook rolled out of reach, popping back up to his feet with the same effortless grace.
Kian charged again, this time aiming a vicious uppercut. Jungkook ducked just in time, feeling the brush of Kianâs fist pass over his hair. Jungkook countered immediately, his fist slamming into Kianâs gut with a dull thud that echoed in the pit. Kian grunted, staggering back a few steps, but he didnât go down.
Jungkook didnât let up. He stepped forward, driving his elbow into Kianâs side, a brutal strike that sent him stumbling to his knees. For a moment, Jungkook paused, chest rising and falling steadily, his eyes locked on Kian. It was like he was waiting â giving him a chance to get up, to fight back. There was no malice in his eyes, only dominance.
But Kian wasnât finished. He sprang up, swinging wildly, desperate now. Jungkook blocked the punches with ease, his forearms absorbing the blows like they were nothing. When Kian threw a wild hook, Jungkook sidestepped, grabbed the back of his neck, and yanked him forward. They collided, chest to chest, Jungkookâs lips curling into a smirk as Kian struggled to free himself from his grip.
In one smooth motion, Jungkook twisted and slammed Kian to the ground, hard. Kian gasped, the wind knocked from his lungs as he hit the dirt with a heavy thud. Jungkook loomed over him, his knee pressing into Kianâs chest, pinning him in place. The fight was over â Jungkook didnât need to say a word. His body, his presence, declared victory.
He stood slowly, letting Kian catch his breath, but his gaze never once wavered. He rolled his neck, muscles flexing as he looked down at his fallen opponent, then turned away without another glance.
Your heart sank, disappointment washing over you like a wave, leaving you breathless. Your wolf, however, was undeterred.
âHe doesnât even looked at us,â she sulked, her voice a mix of longing and frustration.
As you watched him turn away, the heat in your core only intensified as you unknowingly pressed your legs together. Your gaze lingered on his retreating figure, every step he took echoing in your chest. You couldnât help but think of how strong he was, how much power he radiated, and how desperately you wanted to be close to him.
The combat pit was still bustling around you, but all you could see was Jungkook, the way he carried himself with a confidence that made your heart race. âWhy wonât you look at me?â you thought, frustration bubbling within you as you watched him leave.
As the sun dipped lower in the sky, painting the horizon in hues of orange and pink, you found yourself wandering back to your room. Shina escorted you, but you could sense her eagerness to leave as she still had to bath and wash away the sweat of training. After a brief goodbye, she left you alone, and the silence settled heavily around you.
At night dinner came and went, delivered by a maid who whisked in and out with a tray of food that you barely touched. The sheets cool against your skin felt nice, but sleep eluded you. Tossing and turning only brought frustration, and after hours of restless thoughts, you resigned yourself to the fact that tonight would be a long one.
With a deep sigh, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed and stood, the cool floor grounding you. You stepped out into the empty halls of the palace, the quiet amplified by the vastness of the space. The air was thick with a stillness that made every sound seem sharper.
As you walked, your eyes drifted over the majestic paintings that adorned the walls. Each one was a reminder of the lineage that loomed over you. You paused before a portrait that caught your attentionâa striking depiction of Jungkookâs father, the late Lycan king. His strong features were chiseled in a way that demanded respect, and you couldnât help but feel a pang of sadness for Jungkook. He had lost so much at such a young age, thrust into a role that should have belonged to a father, a king. You could only imagine the weight of that responsibility, the expectations that came with it.
Taking a deep breath, you continued down the hallway. The corridor opened into the royal garden, where the moon hung high in the sky, casting silvery light over the landscape. You stepped outside, the cool night air wrapping around you like a soothing balm. The moon was full, its glow reflecting off the petals of the flowers and illuminating the leaves of the trees.
You closed your eyes for a moment, letting the serenity wash over you. This was the time when werewolves felt most connected to the world, to each other, to the wild magic that flowed through your veins. You could feel the pull of the moon, urging you to embrace your true nature.
As you gazed up at the night sky, a sense of calm enveloped you. The moon was a reminder that even in darkness, there was beauty to be found. You longed to share this moment with Jungkook, to let him see the side of you that yearned for love and understanding. The thought made your heart flutter, igniting a flicker of warmth within you.
âWhat brings you here?â The voice came from behind you, deep and resonant, causing you to turn around, startled. There he stoodâJungkook, the moonlight casting a silver halo around him. For the first time since you met, his expression was calm, devoid of the anger and confusion that usually clouded his features. In that moment, he looked almost ethereal, and you felt your heart race.
âNothing,â you replied, trying to sound nonchalant. âI wasn't able to sleep, so I was just wandering around and found myself here.â You shrugged, your hands fidgeting nervously at your sides.
He motioned for you to follow him, and without hesitation, you fell into step beside him. The soft crunch of gravel underfoot was the only sound accompanying the stillness of the night as he led you deeper into the garden, the fragrant scent of blooming flowers enveloping you both.
âItâs a beautiful night, isnât it?â he asked, glancing at you from the corner of his eye, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.
âIndeed, your majesty,â you agreed, your voice barely above a whisper. The night was enchanting, each star twinkling like diamonds against the velvet sky, but an unsettling feeling clung to you.
Suddenly, he halted, turning to face you, his gaze intense. His eyes widened slightly, and the soft pout of his lips drew your attention. âYou can call me by my name; youâre my mate,â he stated, a hint of authority in his tone, as if there was no room for argument. Before you could respond, he resumed walking, leaving you momentarily stunned.
His words, sweet yet loaded with expectation, he himself was unable to fulfill, left a bitter taste in your mouth. A sharp retort bubbled on your tongue, a protest against the very idea that he could command you so easily. But instead of voicing your anger, you chose silence. You swallowed hard, forcing down the instinct to lash out. Instead, you fell in step behind him, your heart racing, a storm of emotions swirling inside you.
As you walked, the tension hung heavy in the air, a force that wrapped around you both. His broad shoulders were relaxed, yet you could sense the underlying power that radiated from him with each step. You stole glances at his profile, the way the moonlight danced along his sharp jawline, the faint shadow of stubble framing his lips.
You soon found Jungkook stopping, settling down on the soft grass beneath him. He motioned for you to join him, but you shook your head, a sudden shyness washing over you. âI canât sit on the ground,â you said, gesturing toward your clothes. âItâs expensive.â
A flicker of confusion crossed his features. âWhat do you mean?â he asked, tilting his head slightly, his dark hair catching the moonlight.
You looked away, unable to meet his gaze. âI come from a low pack. We donât wear things like this,â you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. âIâve never owned anything so fancy.â
For a moment, you braced yourself for his reaction, expecting him to laugh or make some snide remark. Instead, to your astonishment, he shrugged off his coat, laying it down on the grass. âHere,â he said, his voice steady. âSit on this.â He extended his hand to you, palm up, inviting you to take it.
Your heart raced as you hesitated, then slowly placed your hand in his. A low, breathy moan escaped your lips as a tingling sensation flooded through your body. His eyes widened for a brief moment, and you could see the flicker of surprise before he masked it, helping you lower yourself onto his coat.
âIt feels nice,â you murmured, your heart pounding. The warmth of his hand lingered in yours, and you didnât want to let go. âIs it really okay?â
âItâs just a coat,â he replied, though the intensity in his gaze suggested otherwise. âIâd rather you be comfortable.â
You sat there for what felt like an eternity, the silence stretching between you. Finally, you decided to break it, curiosity nudging at you. âSo⊠whatâs it like being a king?â As soon as those words skipped your lips you internally cringed, this was embarassing, you wanted to take, but not like this.
He chuckled softly, a sound that sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach. âItâs not all itâs cracked up to be. There are expectations, dutiesâlots of politics.â
âSounds boring,â you said, raising an eyebrow playfully. âDo you ever get to do anything fun?â
He smiled, the corner of his mouth quirking up. âOccasionally. But mostly, I have to focus on the pack. Itâs a lot of responsibility.â His tone turned serious, and you could see the weight of his role pressing down on him.
âDoesnât it get lonely?â you asked, tilting your head, trying to gauge his reaction. âBeing king and all, with so many people around but no one really understanding you?â
âSometimes,â he admitted, looking away into the distance, his jaw tightening slightly. âBut I have people I trust.â
You didn't said anything after that and a calming silence enveloped the two of you, as peaceful as the soft glow of the moonlight overhead. Unable to resist, you broke the stillness, once again. âJungkook?â
âHmmm?â His voice was low and gentle, his eyes fixed on the moon, reflecting a light that felt almost ethereal.
You hesitated, then spoke with a mix of hope and vulnerability. âDo you know⊠when I was young, I always dreamed of dancing under the moonlight with my mate.â You paused, gauging his reaction as the words hung in the air, thick and heavy. "Do you dance?" You couldn't help but ask as you braced yourself for the rejection.
His gaze shifted from the moon to you, and for a moment, the world around you faded into insignificance. âNo,â he admitted softly, the vulnerability in his voice surprising you. But then he added, âBut I might,â and something in his tone sent shivers down your spine, a hint of something deeper glimmering in his eyes.
Your heart raced as you felt a warmth blooming in your chest, something dark yet lovely igniting within you, making your pulse quicken. The atmosphere crackled with unspoken tension, and you couldnât look away from him.
Without warning, he rose to his feet, extending his hand towards you. You smiled brightly, your heart soaring at the gesture, and without hesitation, you grasped his hand. The familiar tingling sensation surged through your body, igniting a warmth that spread from your fingertips to your core.
âCome on,â he murmured, his voice low and inviting, and you felt your breath hitch as you stood beside him. He gently pulled you closer, his other hand resting lightly on your waist, guiding you into a slow sway.
But as the dance slowed, reality crept back in, and he gently pulled away, his hand still clasped around yours. âI should escort you back to your room,â he said, his tone shifting back to that of the king, though the warmth in his gaze lingered.
You nodded, a hint of reluctance creeping in. âI guess itâs late,â you replied, your heart still racing from the dance.
As you walked side by side, the silence was comfortable. Jungkook led you back through the garden. When you reached your door, he turned to face you, his expression softening once more. âGoodnight,â he said, a hint of something deeper in his voice.
âGoodnight, Jungkook,â you replied, you wanted to reach out, to pull him back, but instead, you simply smiled.
As you closed the door, you made your way to the bed, a soft sigh escaping your lips. The cool sheets felt inviting against your skin as you slipped under the covers, your heart still racing from the dance and the fleeting touches. You closed your eyes, as you smiled softly. Maybe, just maybe everything was finally falling back to it's place. You were not to lie, you liked Jungkook and mate bond was thickening every second every minute, it was only strengthening your feelings and was making you more vulnerable to him. And, who are you to deny the truth that you desperately needed that doe eyed king. You let your thoughts drift, a soft smile spreading across your face. In the quiet of your dreams, you found him again, lost in a world where he was as desperate for you as you were for him. You dream of him, you dream of him dreaming you as desperately as you were dreaming of him.
In the middle of the night, you jolted awake. The room around you glowed with dancing shadows, moonlight slipping through the curtains like whispers, casting silver patterns on the walls. You blinked, it was past midnight and you were unable to go back to sleep.
Cocooned in warm sheets, you took a deep breath, the scent of something sweet and salty wrapping around you like a gentle embrace.
You quietly slipped out of bed, the soft pad of your feet brushing against the cool floor. For a moment, you stood frozen, unsure of what to do, scanning the darkness that enveloped you. Your instincts kicked in, sharpening your senses as you stepped out of your room, the shadows swallowing you whole. Each step felt instinctual, as if an invisible thread tugged at your heart, beckoning you forward. It was a magnetic pull, calling your name, compelling you to follow like a desperate devotee.
Suddenly, you heard a low murmur. It was coming from a room. You hesitated, knowing you shouldnât intrude, but that voice broke something inside you. With trembling hands, you slowly opened the door, and the sight before you shattered your heart.
There lay Jungkook on his bed, thrashing about, his face twisted in distress as he murmured incoherent whispers. His brow was furrowed, and his lips trembled, as if he was fighting against some unseen torment. You didn't even realised you had come all the way to price chamber. You rushed to his side, your heart pounding in your chest.
âJungkook,â you called softly, reaching out to gently shake him. âWake up.â
His eyes flew open, wide and confused, the fear in them piercing through the haze of his nightmares. For a brief moment, shock flickered across his face, and then he froze, taking in your presence.
âWhy are you here?â he rasped, his voice hoarse and raw.
âI heard you,â you whispered, your heart racing.
"What were you doing tiptoeing around my room?" He practically screamed screamed at you, pushing you away.
"Nâno. IâI wasn't," you said, shaking your head trying to reach out to him.
Anger flashing in his eyes. âYou think you can just come in here and play the savior?â
âJungkook, what? What are you even say? I just wanted to help!â you pleaded, stepping closer, desperate to reach him.
âHelp? You think you can help? You think youâre the solution to my problems?â he sneered, his expression hardening. âI hate you! You think this is love? I will ever love you? Never!â
The pain in his words felt like a physical blow. âThatâs not fair!â you cried, your voice shaking. âIâm not trying to intrude. I just want toâ!â
"I don't care," he growled, glaring at you, his fists clenched at his sides. âYou think you can understand what itâs like to be me? To have everyone around you suffer because of your existence?â
You felt your heart sink further, but you were unable to understand his words. It was like they were written in a foreign language and although you did know the alphabets, were unable to make sense of a whole sentence. âIâm not trying to do anything! Iâm here because I care about you!â
âCare? Is that what you call this?â he shouted, his voice rising with frustration as a low whimper left your throat. âOh! Sweet mate, do you really think a weak voice and sad eyes would help you? Do you think you get to be all fragile now?â
Tears stung your eyes as you fought to hold them back. âBut I merely intended to help!â you insisted, desperate for him to see the truth. âYou donât have to push me away!â
âWhy would I want you around?â he hissed, his gaze piercing through you. âYouâre nothing but a reminder of everything I canât have, everything I shouldn't have, and Iâm here to make sure you donât get hurt.â
With each word, your heart broke a little more, the weight of his rejection crushing you. âI thought... I thought we, togeâ,â you said, your voice barely above a whisper.
âTogether?â he echoed, his voice dripping with scorn. âYou think thatâs what this is? Youâre wrong! The moon goddess has cursed you, and now you have to deal with it."
"Butâ"
"Leave!â
Without another word, you dashed down the hall, the world around you blurring as you pushed the door to your room open and locked it behind you. Sliding down against the cool wood, you let the tears flow freely. You couldnât believe this was happening. For years, you had dreamed of having a mate. After losing your parents at such a young age, you had felt all alone. Life had been hard, but the thought of having someone to love, cherish, and adore had kept you going. But how had it all come to this? After praying to the moon goddess for years, you finally had a mate, and he didnât want you. Was it true what your pack members always said? Were you really cursed? Were you really destined to be nothing but an abomination?
Now, it felt like you truly were cursed and unlovable, an abomination. You called out to your wolf, reaching for her, but she felt so distant, drowning in the loss of a mate she never really had. Jungkookâs words echoed in your mind, and the pain of his rejection was nothing compared to the hollow ache of losing your wolf.
âPlease,â you begged again, your voice cracking, but silence filled the empty corners of your mind. A shrill sob escaped your throat, a sound of desperation and grief. You cried, each sob tearing through you as you let the waves of sorrow wash over you. You cried until you couldnât anymore, until your tears ran dry, and exhaustion pulled you under like a heavy blanket.
Finally, the weight of it all became too much, and you fell into a deep slumber, your heart still aching but momentarily free from the torment of reality.
âââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââ
"Bee." A soft voice pulled you out of the fog of sleep, nudging you back to consciousness. You groaned as the sunlight filtered through the window, the brightness bouncing off the walls and stabbing your eyes like tiny needles. You turned your head away with a low whine, squeezing your eyes shut tighter against the overwhelming light.
"Bee?" The voice was closer now, more insistent. You blinked your eyes open reluctantly and saw Shina crouched beside you. Concern was etched deeply into her face, her brows furrowed, lips pressed in a thin line. Her hand reached out, gently gripping your arm, and she slowly helped you sit up from the cold floor.
"Why were you sleeping on the floor?" she asked, her voice gentle, though her worry was unmistakable. Her eyes, wide and searching, bore into yours, trying to find an answer you werenât ready to give.
You blinked at Shina, still dazed, feeling like you were floating in a fog. The memory of last night twisted in your chest, squeezing tighter with every second that passed. His words, so sharp and cold, cut through you again, making it hard to breathe. You had tried to push them away, but the hurt clung to you, pulling you down.
"Bee, what happened?" Shina asked again, her voice low but urgent, her grip on your arm growing tighter. Her eyes searched yours, wide with worry, but you could barely meet them. You tried to speak, to say anything, but your throat was tight, and the pressure behind your eyes made your vision blur. She was so close, her concern so raw and real, that it only made you feel more fragile. You felt like you could break at any moment.
The weight of it all pressed down on youâher worry, the memory of his crueltyâand you felt the tears threaten to spill over. You blinked them away quickly, refusing to let them fall, and forced yourself to speak.
"I'm okay," you murmured, though your voice cracked, barely more than a whisper. It wavered, weak and uncertain, but you straightened your shoulders, trying to sound firm. Shina's eyes softened, her lips parting as if she wanted to argue, but she held back. Instead, she nodded, though you could tell she didnât believe a word.
"Right..." she said, clearing her throat. "Ahrm, I came to call you for breakfast." She tried to sound cheerful, but there was a hesitancy in her voice, the usual bounce missing.
"Breakfast?" you repeated, like the word itself didnât make sense.
"Yeah," she nodded, motioning toward the bathroom. "You should get ready."
"Oh." You nodded slowly, as if on autopilot, and grabbed the yellow dress sitting on the edge of the bed. Shina had bought it for you, and you knew it meant something, but the significance felt distant now. Your body moved without thought, heading to the bathroom like it was just another day.
Inside, you let the water run hot, scalding almost, trying to feel something other than the ache that had settled deep in your chest. The steam wrapped around you, clouding your vision, but it couldnât chase away the storm swirling in your head.
When you finally stepped out, Shina was waiting, her smile soft but cautious. âBee, you look pretty,â she said, handing you a small box wrapped in delicate paper.
You took it, staring blankly at the box in your hand. "Whatâs this?"
"Jungkook asked me to give it to you." Her eyes flickered with somethingâexcitement, maybeâbut you werenât sure. You nodded, barely acknowledging her as you tossed the box onto the bed without a second glance.
"Iâm not opening it," you said flatly, your voice cold and distant.
Shina hesitated, her lips parting to say something, but she closed them quickly, offering a half-hearted nod. "Okay... Let's go."
The walk to the dining hall was quiet, too quiet. Shina glanced at you from time to time, but you were lost in your thoughts, diving deep into the darkness that had settled in your heart. Last night had been a dreamâJungkook had been so kind, so sweet, so real. For the first time, you had believed there might be a chance. But the way he had pushed you away so harshly afterward⊠it shattered everything.
âBee, this way,â Shina said, guiding you through the doors and into the hall. The massive dining table stretched out before you, with Jungkook seated at the far end. His eyes were focused on his plate, avoiding your gaze entirely. Kian sat beside him, his arm casually dropped over the table. The other seats filled quickly with Neil, Patricia, and several others you barely registered.
Shina nudged you gently into the seat beside Jungkook, her smile forced, trying to ease the tension. "Come on, Bee. Itâs just breakfast. Nothing too dramatic, right?" She chuckled awkwardly, but it fell flat in the heavy air. She glanced at Kian, who gave her a small, supportive smile, but you could tell even she felt the weight of Jungkookâs presence, of his silence.
You sat stiffly, your back straight, eyes locked on the table in front of you. Jungkookâs hand gripped his fork tightly, knuckles white, but he never looked your way. Not once.
Shina, trying to break the ice, leaned forward. "Bee," she started, forcing a grin, "Why don't you try pancakes? It's really good. Right, Kian?" She wiggled her eyebrows at Kian, trying to coax a smile out of you.
You glanced at her, offering a weak, polite smile, but your heart wasnât in it.
Kian smirked, shaking his head. "Yes, this beautiful beside me loves pancakes!."
Jungkookâs fork clinked against his plate, the subtle sound sharper than it shouldâve been. His jaw clenched, and for a second, his gaze flickered to you, something raw and almost vulnerable flashing in his eyes before he quickly looked away.
You felt the knot in your throat tighten, but you swallowed it down, refusing to let it show. There was no apology, no acknowledgment, just silence.
"Bee?" Shinaâs voice broke through the fog, her hand gently resting on yours under the table. Her touch was warm, grounding you in the moment.
You blinked, shaking your head slightly. "Yeah?"
"Do you want me to take you out after breakfast? You know, just the two of us? We can talk... or not talk, whatever you want."
Jungkookâs shoulders tensed, his breath catching for just a second. But still, he said nothing.
You met Shinaâs eyes, her genuine worry for you reflected in them. You gave a small nod, even though your chest felt heavy. "Yeah, sure. Iâd love that," you whispered, your voice barely holding together.
Jungkook shifted beside you, his fork clattering against the plate as he finally spoke. "You guys should probably go out. Take Patricia with you too." His voice was steady, but cold, distant. He still didnât look at you, directing his words toward Shina.
A bitter laugh slipped from your lips before you could stop it. The sound made him go rigid, though he still wouldnât meet your eyes. It was ridiculous, really, how he could be so close yet feel so unreachable.
Breakfast ended in uncomfortable silence. You stood up quietly, your chair scraping the floor as you excused yourself. Jungkookâs eyes followed your movement for a fleeting moment, but when you looked back, they were fixed on his plate again.
Alone, you made your way back to your room, each step feeling heavier than the last. You lingered by the window, staring out at the world beyond. It was strangeâJungkook suggesting you go out, as if it made any difference. As if letting you walk through town would somehow patch the holes he left in you.
But of course, he didnât care. He made that clear last night.
A knock echoed through your room, loud against the silence, snapping you from your thoughts. Reluctantly, you crossed the room and opened the door to find a man in a black uniform standing there, his posture rigid.
"His Majesty has assigned me to escort you outside the palace, for your protection.," he said with no introduction, his tone all business. The man was imposingâbroad-shouldered, with a no-nonsense expression. He didnât waste time on pleasantries. "Please, come. Beta female is already waiting."
You nodded, not really knowing what else to do, and followed as he motioned for you to walk beside him. His steps were measured, precise, and soon you were outside, seated in a car heading who knew where. Kenji, as you later learned his name was, drove with Shina beside him, her usual chatty demeanor subdued, while Patricia sat next to you in silence.
"Kenji, stop by The Velvet Pheasant," Shina said, her voice firm but distracted, not even glancing at him.
"Sure, beta female," he replied, his deep voice steady as he turned the wheel. The car came to a smooth halt outside an extravagant boutique, the kind that screamed prestige from the way it gleamed in the afternoon sun. The buildingâs grand façade loomed over you, polished and perfect, and you felt a wave of reluctance wash over you.
Stepping out of the car, Patricia told Kenji to wait outside, and he responded with a curt nod and a surprisingly warm gummy smile. You followed the girls inside, feeling the cool air hit you as soon as you entered. An older woman rushed toward Shina with surprising speed, her arms flung wide for an embrace.
"Shina, youâve completely forgotten about me. Don't come to visit aunt anymore" the woman cried, clutching Shina tightly. "I havenât seen you in ages! I even asked your mother, and she just said, 'Oh, you know Shina is busy these days.' Busy, huh?"
Shina stiffened in the womanâs arms, her face scrunched up in what could only be described as pure agony. You stifled a laugh but quickly regretted it as the woman released Shina and turned toward you and Patricia, her sharp eyes locking onto you.
Before you could react, Patricia shoved you forward and darted toward Shina, leaving you in the crosshairs. The old womanâs grip was strong, pulling you into a hug that felt more like a bear trap than a greeting. You could hear the two girls giggling behind you as they escaped her clutches, leaving you alone at her mercy.
For what felt like hours, you were trapped in a whirlwind of fabric, as Shina and Patricia pulled you from one section of the boutique to another. Dresses, shoes, accessoriesâShina practically bought the whole store for you, her way of making the day brighter despite everything.
As the sun began to set, you all piled back into the car, exhaustion settling in. Kenji, who had been nothing but stoic all day, had softened slightly, sharing small bits of conversation with you along the ride. He was one of the royal warriors, you found outâhighly respected, and one of the deadliest. Yet, despite his fearsome reputation, there was a kindness to him that you hadn't expected. You also found out that he was yet to find his mate.
The drive back to the palace felt quieter, more solemn, and the closer you got, the heavier your chest became. The fun youâd had during the day was slowly slipping away, replaced by the cold reality of where you were heading. You stared out the window, watching the world outside blur past, feeling the tightness return to your throat.
As the palace gates came into view, you couldnât help but sigh, the happiness from earlier fading entirely. You didnât want to go back. You didnât want to face him again.
But you had no choice.
The car rolled to a stop, and with a deep breath, you stepped out, the weight of the palace settling back on your shoulders.
You stepped out of the car, the weight of the day pressing down on you. The girls had already been swept up by their mates, leaving you alone with Kenji, who gently helped you with the bags. His kind smile softened the growing pit in your stomach, but even Kenji, as sweet as he was, kept his distance. When you reached your room, he handed you the bags, his hands lingering for only a moment before he stepped back, eyes cast down.
"I canât enter," he said, almost shy. "Itâs not right to be alone with an unmated she-wolf."
You nodded, appreciating the respect, even though it only reminded you of your isolation. âThank you, Kenji,â you murmured.
He gave a small wave before disappearing down the hall, leaving you to the quiet hum of your empty room. The door clicked shut behind you, sealing the silence.
You tossed the bags onto the bed, your eyes drifting over to the box youâd been avoiding all day. That damn purple-wrapped box. With a sigh, you grabbed it, tearing off the wrapper without care. Inside, nestled in velvet, was a delicate heart-shaped necklace, the same shade of purple that always reminded you of him.
But instead of the warmth it once might have brought, a bitter taste rose in your throat. He thought this would fix everything. That after the things he said, the coldness he showed, a necklace could make it all go away? Your fingers tightened around it until your knuckles turned white. The bastard knewâhe knewâhow much it meant to you when you told him youâd never owned anything expensive. And now, it felt like a cruel joke, like he was throwing your words back in your face.
Without thinking, you stormed out of the room, the necklace clenched in your fist. Your feet carried you down the long corridors to his chambers, each step fueled by the fire burning in your chest. You didnât care who saw you, or how fast you were moving. You just needed to see him, to confront him.
As you reached his door, hand raised to knock, the sound of voices froze you in place.
"No," Jungkookâs voice boomed from behind the door, the rage in his tone making your breath catch. "I refuse to be tied to her. I didnât choose this. I donât love her. I donât want any of it."
The necklace almost slipped from your grip, the metal cutting into your palm as your heart cracked.
"You need to understand, Kian," Jungkook continued, voice harsher now, "Iâm not willing to do this."
"But even the elders want this," Kian replied, his voice softer, almost pleading. "Today, you were lucky she wasnât here, but how long can you really hide her from the world? One day, youâll have to accept her."
"Never," Jungkook spat, his voice cutting through the air like a blade.
Kian's next words were too quiet to make out, but they were followed by the unmistakable sound of footsteps heading toward the door. Panic surged through you, but before you could move, the door swung open.
There he was, standing before youâJungkook. His face paled when he saw your tear-streaked cheeks, his eyes widening in shock. His lips parted as if to say something, but the words died in his throat.
He reached out, the apology already forming on his tongue, but you didnât wait to hear it.
Without a second thought, you hurled the necklace at his chest, the metal clinking as it hit him and fell to the floor between you. His eyes flicked to the necklace, then back to you, his expression one of helpless guilt.
But you didnât wait for an explanation. Your feet carried you away, heart pounding, vision blurred by tears. You didnât stop until the corridor twisted out of sight, and even then, the weight of his words echoed in your mind, breaking you all over again.
As soon as you got to your room, you sank to the ground, your body trembling as you wrapped your arms around your knees. Hot tears streamed down your face, each sob tearing through you like a knife. A different ache settled in your heart, a hollow emptiness that expanded with every breath you took, leaving you feeling more lost and abandoned than ever.
âââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââ
Jungkook sat rigidly in the chair beside the window, the moonlight spilling over him like a soft embrace, illuminating the sharp lines of his jaw and the furrow in his brow. Shadows danced across his face, mirroring the chaos swirling within him. He stared out into the darkness, eyes unfocused, lost in thoughts he couldnât bear to confront. The silence in the room was suffocating, thick with unspoken words. A soft knock broke through, and he turned slightly, his voice devoid of emotion. âCome in.â
Kian stepped inside, his usual calm demeanor replaced by an unsettling gloom that weighed on him like a storm cloud. He crossed the room slowly and settled into the chair beside Jungkook. The air thickened with the weight of their unspoken fears.
âWhat brings you here, Kian?â Jungkook asked, his tone flat, gaze still trapped in the shimmering night sky. He could feel Kianâs eyes on him, probing, searching for answers.
âWhy would you do that, Jungkook?â Kianâs voice trembled, breaking the stillness like a fragile glass shattering. He leaned forward, his brow knitted in worry. âwhy are you doing this? How could you sit here like this? Like nothing happened? She is your mate. You canât just push her away like that. Thatâs not how things work, especially not with a mate bond.â
At the mention of you, Jungkookâs gaze snapped to Kian, sharp and defensive. The flicker of vulnerability quickly masked by anger. âWhat about her?â he demanded, an edge creeping into his voice, the tension coiling tighter in his chest.
âShina told me Luna has been crying since evening.â Kianâs words were low, heavy with concern, sinking into Jungkook like stones in water. A silence enveloped them, punctuated only by Jungkookâs ragged breaths, as the gravity of Kianâs words settled in.
âWhy?â Jungkook found himself asking, the question slipping out before he could stop it, though they both knew the answer. A suffocating heaviness settled in his chest, a mix of guilt and soul crushing swirling within him like a tempest.
âJungkook, why not just accept the bond? Whyââ Kian started, but Jungkook cut him off, frustration bubbling over. He ran a hand through his hair, eyes glinting with an intensity that betrayed his inner turmoil.
âShe scares me, Kian,â Jungkook admitted, his voice tight, his jaw clenching as he turned away again. âSheâs everything Iââ He stopped himself abruptly, the words hanging in the air, unfinished. His fists clenched on his lap, the muscles in his arms tensing as he fought to maintain control.
âWhat?â Kian pressed, leaning forward, desperate to understand. âEverything you what, Jungkook?â
Jungkookâs face hardened, eyes darkening as the vulnerability retreated behind the walls he had carefully constructed. âForget it,â he snapped, his voice cold. âYou wouldnât understand.â
Kian shook his head, frustration boiling beneath the surface. He leaned closer, his voice growing intense. âLove hurts above all, but we must never cease to do it. Itâs painful, but you canât run from it, Jungkook.â
âLove?â Jungkook scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping him, but it sounded hollow. âItâs not meant for me, Kian. I hurt everyone. Iâm my fatherâs son, after all.â He leaned back, crossing his arms tightly across his chest, shutting himself off from Kianâs words.
âYouâre not him,â Kian insisted, leaning forward, voice filled with passion. âYouâre not your father, and she isnât your mother. She wonât leave, and you wonât end up like him. Jungkook, donât let bad memories of past ruin the possibilities of your future.â He reached out, almost as if to touch Jungkookâs arm, but hesitated, sensing the emotional wall between them.
âThatâs the problem with memories, Kian,â Jungkook said, his voice dropping to a whisper, eyes darkening. âThey never go away. They stay with you, and they eat you alive. I canât forget, and I canât love.â His words were cold, final, as if sealing his fate.
Kianâs frustration boiled over, his hands clenched into fists as he tried once more. âItâs not just about you, Jungkook. Itâs about her too. You canât keep pushing her awayââ
âLeave, Kian,â Jungkook said, his voice sharp, commanding. His back straightened, the gesture almost regal, but the pain behind his eyes betrayed him.
âBut Alphaââ Kianâs protest faded as he sensed the finality in Jungkookâs tone. He sat back, his shoulders slumping, disappointment and worry etched into his features.
âI said leave,â Jungkook repeated, turning his back to Kian, the room growing colder as the shadows deepened around him. The moonlight faded into darkness, mirroring the hollow ache in Jungkookâs heart.
Kian stood up slowly, his shoulders sagging with the weight of the conversation. He glanced back at Jungkook, his face tight with concern. âI just hope you donât regret this, Alpha,â he said quietly, his voice carrying a note of finality. Without waiting for a response, Kian walked to the door, the soft click of it closing behind him echoing in the heavy silence left in his wake.
âââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââ
"Luna, for how long will you keep crying like this?" Shina's voice was gentle, laced with concern as she knelt beside you, offering a plate of food. She watched as you stared blankly at the untouched meal. Tears streamed down your cheeks, an endless waterfall that had begun with the dawn.
âPlease, eat something,â she urged softly, but you could only shake your head, the words lodged in your throat like a stone.
âWhy? Canât he just accept the bond, Shina? Why?â Your voice cracked. Frustration bubbled within you, mingling with the heartache that had you feeling hollow.
Shina placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, but you shrugged it off, the gesture feeling too heavy to bear. âPlease leave, Shina,â you whispered, your voice trembling.
She hesitated, searching your face for a glimmer of hope, but all she found were shadows of despair. âNo matter how much love you give to a bird with broken wings, it wonât ever make it believe it can fly,â she said, her voice quiet yet firm, her eyes filled with empathy. âAnd even if it did, isnât it just death, Luna?â
Her words wrapped around you like a cold shroud, leaving you confused and raw. You opened your mouth to respond, but the weight of her statement silenced you. She rose slowly, the sadness in her eyes mirrored by the heaviness in the air, before she turned and walked away, leaving you alone with your thoughts.
You stared at the food plate, your heart aching with the reality of it all. The room felt suffocating, the walls closing in as you fought to suppress the next wave of tears. Each breath felt like a struggle, the silence around you amplifying the sorrow that threatened to drown you.
Okay, so first of all, if youâve made it this far, wow, congrats on surviving whatever mess I just threw your way. I mean, let's be honest, this is probably one of the most questionable things you've ever had the misfortune of reading. And for that, I truly, sincerely apologizeâwell, kinda.
But hey, if you're sitting there thinking, "Wow, this is absolute garbage," you're not alone. I get it. I hated it too. So, feel free to tell me just how much you despised every single word of it. I mean, go on, rip it apart. I'm mentally prepared...sort of. Probably. Okay, not really. But let's pretend I am, and we can bond over how truly awful this was. Thanks for sticking around, though. You're a champ.
Taglist @freyaniobe @piercidh34rts @furioustrashlover @lola75111 @pitchblack0309 @whoa-jo @teeheewhy13 @gojoscumslut @emanyd @sassy-snassy @jksusawife @nnnnmmmuuiu @jiminismine4ever @runariya @btspurplesky
#kookiewithluv#bts ffs#bts ff#bts fanfic#bts smut#jeon jungkook#jungkook scenarios#jungkook fiction#jungkook smut#jungkook x reader#Ashes of Promises#jungkook bts#jeon jungguk#jungkook#jeon jungkoooook#jungkook jeon#jungkook fanfic#jungkook x you#jungkook bangtan
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More details of the au!
First of all, Bruce is in a bad shape, like, the man is dead, what did you expect? He also died from sadness, he wasn't taking care of himself, if you catch a glimpse of his body behind the ragged blanket, you'll notice it, he had stopped eating, not moving, nothing, as they say "muerto en vida" (death in life?)
Alfred had tried his best, but when someone loses their will to keep on going, there's just so much you can do
Also, i finally decided that the kids died by certain someone's hand, Alfred was out of town, and they had conviced Bruce to take them for a out in the river, you know, rent a boat and all that classic stuff
Bruce left them for a moment, a mere moment, and that was all that a sadistic man needed to take them, they escaped the man, but in the middle of the river, their little bodies could only do so much
Bruce searched, and searched, and the next day, he found them, but they weren't breathing anymore, they had lasted as long as they could, but at the end, they just got so, so tired, especially because Jason didn't knew how to swim...
It's said that anyone who got to hear his scream back then has never been able to forget it
Dick forgave his dad, because he found them at the end, he knew he was trying, he knew he didn't abandon them, if he didn't care, they wouldn't still be here and he knows it
Jason didn't because he died waiting for him to save them, or at least to save Dick, he had promised he will always be there and when they needed him the most he just wasn't there, and he had the nerve to die before catching the piece of shit who caused this!
Both of them always look wet, like they just stepped out of water, it's dripping from them all the time, and their faces are pale
Dick is easier to identify, because he's always floating, moving his arms as if he were swiming in the air, his skin is far bluer than Jason's
Jason is pale, his skin almost gray, his hair has its and bits of white, his eyes are dark spheres, he prefers walking
#batman#batman au#batman is a cryptid#bruce wayne#good dad bruce wayne#bad dad bruce wayne#like ive said#both#jason todd#dick grayson#yes the man was the joker in this au#the one who laments au
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soulmate au part 1
john price x f!reader
wc: 1.2k
unedited, forgive my mistakes.
since you were born, your world has been grey. you never thought anything of it, until at school, they started teaching you colours. the only ones in the room that could see more than just different shades of grey, apart from the teacher, were identical twins.
weird.
you went home and asked your parents.
"we are born missing half of ourselves. we have a fated one, and when you meet them, your world will look the way it was meant to."
oh. but... "in class, there were twins that could see colour. what about them?"
they look surprised for a second until your dad softly explains. "in rare instances, the soulmate bond will be platonic. which makes sense in this case, because twins grow up with a connection regular people like us will never understand."
you nod and lower your gaze to look at your shoes. you wonder if the person meant for you is interested in junie b. jones books like you are.
-
in high school, you crush on this pretty girlâ a cheerleader. her hair is long and beautiful, her face is small and round, and she's so kind. just your type.
but no colour stains your vision, so you burrow your emotions deep and mourn the loss of what could've been.
-
in college, one of your friends ask you if you've met your soulmate yet.
"no, not yet," you lament. what she says after freezes the blood in your veins.
"my mom knew someone whose soulmate was already dead before they had even been born," she comments while stabbing a grape tomato with her fork. "it was really tragic, because she'll never know what it's like to know a love that has no equal."
your heart is in your throat, and you find it hard to swallow the food in your mouth.
what if your soulmate is already dead? oh, god. you might just throw up. your friend doesn't seem to notice the change in your demeanor and continues to babble carelessly about how she knew someone that knew someone who's soulmate had turned out to be a murderer.
oh my fucking god.
you quickly run to the bathroom and throw up your lunch.
how cruel is the universe? to have no control over who is meant to be for you.
you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and lean against the stall of the bathroom. you should've known that this soulmate business was too good to be true.
cupping your hands, you rinse the taste of bile out of your mouth before walking back to your friend who stayed in her seat.
"jesus, you look terrible, you alright?" she asks.
running your fingers through your hair, you huff. "i've certainly been better. just got a bit nauseous, nothing serious. maybe it's a stomach bug."
"oooh, you better not be pregnant! what of your dreams of working in the medical field?"
you giggle at her response. "that'd be impossible unless i'm the virgin mary."
she gapes comically then leans in and whispers, "you're lying! don't tell me you haven't dated anyone just because they weren't your soulmate."
you shrug, and keep your eyes fixed on your half-eaten plate of food. "i don't really wanna talk about it, if that's alright with you. besides, you've got bigger things to worry about, like the upcoming exam for mr. richardson."
slapping a hand to her forehead, she exclaims, "oh, shit! i totally forgot! shit!"
you watch her inhale the rest of her salad and toss her trash before waving goodbye and sprinting toward the library.
with a sigh, you look down at your food. grey. lifeless. shaking your head, you pick up your plate and toss it in the bin.
you decide to focus solely on your studies. you have dreams of being a doctor and pining after someone you haven't even met yet would only serve as a distraction.
--
your white coat grazes your calves as you walk toward your new patient. standing outside the room, you pick up the clipboard.
Price, John. 34, Active Military.
he's the head of the task force! god, you've only heard stories of them from the other medics on base who have met them, so to finally come face to face with the man, the myth, the legend? you wipe your clammy hands on the fabric of your scrubs and clear your throat.
be professional, be professional. he's just another patient, it's no big deal.
rapping your knuckles on the door, you wait a second before twisting the knob with a shaky hand. you nervously keep your eyes on the clipboard as you walk in.
"good morning, captain price."
"mornin', doc," he rumbles.
oh, his deep voice just might be the end of you.
"you don't sound all that happy to be here, captain," you tease while flipping through his medical history papers.
he lets out a low chuckle, and you squeeze your thighs together at the sound. delicious.
"nothin' personal, doc. just don't like bein' here, you understand."
lightly laughing at his joke, you finally steel your nerves and look up at him.
only to have your vision bleed in something you don't understand. is that colour? is this what colour looks like?
the clipboard drops, clattering to the floor. johnâ being the courteous gentleman that he isâ quickly kneels to grab it and lifts his head as he hands it to you.
he freezes in place, the clipboard slipping from his hands as he stares at you.
you thickly swallow, and dumbly question, "do you...has your....colour? can you see colour?"
unblinking, john's eyes are fixated on you as he remains silent.
your eyes dart around to take in his features. his brightly-coloured eyes are framed by lines that hint at his age, his strong jaw adorned by a mutton-chop beard. his nose is specked with a beauty mark.
"what colour are your eyes, captain?" you softly ask.
he closes his mouth and takes in a sharp breath. "i've been told they're blue."
"blue," you smile. the eyes of your soulmate are blue.
but then, your delighted smile melts off your face, in horror.
there's a shiny band on his finger. he's married.
john price, your soulmate, is fucking married.
your vision distorts with the tears that threaten to spill and bite your bottom lip to stop it from trembling. it feels like there are shards of glass in your lungs, cutting you open with each quivering breath you take. your pain is red-hot, searing under your skin, flowing through your veins like molten lead.
john knows exactly what you're looking at.
"loveâ" he starts but you cut him off swiftly.
"don't. you don't owe me anything, captain. uhm, but uh... maybe it's best that we switch your doctors, yeah? conflict of interest, and all that."
you all but run away, away from that room, from him.
how terribly unlucky.
you head towards your office, which is down the hall, and slam the door closed. only then, do you cry, and mourn what should've been.
#call of duty#cod mw2#cod mwii#john price x f reader#john price x reader#john price#captain john price#captain john price x reader#captain price
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Thinking about a bingqiu Dreamling AU where Shen Yuan and Shang Qinghua are both bored deities, just sort of taking a brief sojourn through the mortal world to shoot the shit and see some interesting monster or other that Shen Yuan has heard about, when they come across a tea house and decide to take a break and do some people-watching instead.
Shen Yuan is well into something of a shut-in phase, which Shang Qinghua doesn't like, mostly because when Shen Yuan is in those phases he doesn't do particularly well either. Shen Yuan's a social butterfly, for however little he cares to actually acknowledge it about himself, and his critique of Shang Qinghua's literary masterpieces gets so much harsher when he's not getting enough enrichment.
So when they overhear one of the kitchen boys solemnly insisting that he is going to do everything in his power to never die, and Shen Yuan laments that the boy would probably regret such a wish if it came true, Shang Qinghua decides to bestow a rare bit of godly power onto this mortal and grant his wish.
He doesn't make him a god, of course, that wouldn't even be in his ability. At least, not without using up more time and effort than he's prepared to expend on this one random kid. But immortality on its own is not that difficult. The boy will still finish growing up, and will still be able to be harmed, to know hunger and pain and illness. It just won't ever kill him.
Shen Yuan sighs that it's a cruel thing to do to a mortal, especially one with such low odds of ever cultivating other skills to mitigate the potential torment of it all. But Shang Qinghua just shrugs and they place bets, that this boy will ask for the immortality to be revoked in a hundred years, or two hundred, or so on, or else he won't. Shen Qingqiu approaches the kitchen boy and flusters and bewilders him by telling him to meet him back here again in a hundred years time.
A hundred years later, the tea house is larger. The boy has grown to be a striking young man, who looks at Shen Yuan with wariness and something else, something almost like awe, as he asks what manner of creature he's made this bargain with. Shen Yuan assures him that he has no nefarious intentions, and instead asks Luo Binghe how the past century of his life has gone.
Horribly, at least at first. Binghe's mother had already died by the time they met, but afterwards he managed to earn enough money to travel to a nearby sect. Working in the tea house's kitchen was just a minor stopover along the way. Shen Yuan was wrong, it seems, about his odds of becoming a cultivator -- Luo Binghe earned entry as a disciple.
Yet, he had no success. The master who took him on was unaccountably cruel and mercurial, and Luo Binghe's attempts to cultivate failed. Looking back he sees now that there were many times when he should have died but didn't, but when it was all happening he just thought himself lucky. At least until an enemy sect attacked a cultivation conference, and he suffered mortal wounds that absolutely should have killed him (or anyone) but still didn't die. (No demon race or abyss in this AU, but there are still demonic and fantastical creatures.)
His cruel master, upon witnessing this, accused him of heretical practices and tried to kill him as well by flinging him off the edge of a gorge. The fall was terrible. Binghe lay at the bottom in a horrifying state, injured beyond reason and yet, still, he didn't die. Eventually his body recovered enough for him to drag himself out, and once he did the only thing on his mind was getting revenge. For the next several decades he managed to ingratiate himself to all manner of potential allies, forging alliances, accumulating blackmail, and convincing people that he had to be some powerful cultivator through his supernatural resilience, lack of visible aging, and a lot of bluffing. He got revenge on his old teacher, drove his first sect into ruin, and rose to prominence as a feared and respected leader of the cultivation world.
Shen Yuan listens with clear interest, asking plenty of questions and seemingly quite taken up with the story. At the conclusion, Luo Binghe admits that his actual cultivation is still mostly a matter of smoke and mirrors, and wonders if -- now that the hundred years have passed -- Shen Yuan means to strip his immortality from him.
Shen Yuan asks if Luo Binghe wants that. When Luo Binghe says no, he accepts the answer, and tells him to meet him back here again in another hundred years. Luo Binghe calls after him, but before he can ask anything more, Shen Yuan has disappeared again.
A hundred years later, Binghe arrives back at the tea house with an entourage befitting of an emperor. The tea house has also expanded. Luo Binghe orders a lavish feast from them, which everyone hastens to provide. He's spent the past several decades consolidating his power, forging alliances with key political players via several marriages, producing heirs, and crushing his enemies. As he brags about the state of his massive harem to Shen Yuan, the deity's eyes begin to glaze over. He doesn't seem impressed. He also doesn't seem to care much for the food, and eventually his attention is stolen away by a conversation at another table. The diners are discussing the exploits of a promising new poet and novelist. Try as he might, Luo Binghe fails to regain Shen Yuan's attention before the evening is done. Shen Yuan doesn't think it's a big deal -- after all, if Binghe is still riding on top of the world, he's probably not going to want his immortality gift revoked just yet!
Another hundred years go by. The tea house has returned to a more modest situation, the next time Shen Yuan sets foot in it. He waits an unusually long while for his guest to arrive, and when he does, he's almost stopped at the door by the tea house's servers. It's only when Shen Yuan bids them let him through that Luo Binghe is able to come to the table, almost collapsing against it and desperately falling onto the arrangement of snacks with obvious hunger.
Shen Yuan wonders if this, now, will be when the boy (no longer a boy) asks for the immortality to be revoked. Surprisingly, he finds himself resistant to the idea, even though it's also clear that the game has run too long. Maybe hundred year check-ins were too short? He doesn't like the implications of what's gone on, even if he's not really surprised about it either.
Between desperate mouthfuls of food, Luo Binghe explains that without mastering inedia, going hungry but never dying is a deeply unpleasant experience. Shen Yuan orders more food. Once Binghe has finally eaten his fill, he begins, haltingly, to explain his situation. His clothes are ragged, he is painfully thin, and his gaze is haunted.
Apparently, several of his wives conspired to assassinate him, despite his reputation as unkillable. Realizing that most poisons and such didn't kill him, but that he could still be incapacitated, they hatched a scheme to dose his food with a powerful sleeping agent, and then walled him up in a famous ancestral tomb. They went to great length to ensure that it was impossible to escape from. It took Binghe decades to do it anyway, digging away at the floors, and when he got out he found that his power base had collapsed. In-fighting and the incursion of his enemies had led to the deaths of all of his children, and what wives had survived had either fled or remarried. Not that he particularly wanted them back at that point, since the ones actually most loyal to him had also been killed early on after his own "death". His face marked him, to the eyes of his enemy, as a surviving descendant of himself. He was hunted down, chased across the continent and back again, until he managed to fall into enough obscurity that his pursuers abandoned the chase. Except that he has nothing, and any time he tries to regain something, he runs the risk of being hounded again. Those who might see some potential in him still remember the collapse of his recent "dynasty" and slam doors in his face, or else try and turn him over to those now in power in pursuit of a reward. Those who don't know that much see only a dirty beggar, and usually run him off on that basis instead.
Shen Yuan, almost hesitant, asks if Luo Binghe would like to have his immortality revoked.
Luo Binghe declines. How will he be able to take revenge on those who wronged him if he is dead? He has a hit list a mile long by now.
Which is definitely not the most noble of reasons to persist, but Shen Yuan finds himself reluctant to ask twice. Instead he orders more food, and then even reserves one of the traveler's rooms above the tea house for several days. By then the sky is turning grey, and Luo Binghe is losing his apparent battle with exhaustion. Shen Yuan presses the key into his hand, thinking it's probably not enough, but there are limits to how much gods are supposed to interfere and Shang Qinghua already stretched them to the breaking point with this entire scenario.
He leaves, not seeing the hand that reaches after him just before he is out of the door and gone.
Another hundred years pass. This time, Shen Yuan arrives to find Luo Binghe already waiting for him. He isn't surprised to see that Binghe's situation has visibly improved -- maybe he was keeping closer tabs on him, just a little bit, for this past while. If only to be sure he wouldn't have to warn the tea house workers to expect an unorthodox visitor again! But no, Binghe has been doing well enough for himself. No more harems or thrones, though. He dresses more like a well-off merchant now, deliberately posing as his own mortal descendant rather than as a great immortal cultivator. The food at the table looks far more delicious than usual too (Binghe commandeered the tea house's kitchen himself this time). As they chat, Shen Yuan is regaled with the exploits of Luo Binghe's travels and adventures, how even though he initially set out to claim revenge on those who overthrew him, by the time he was in a position to actually do so they had already died of the usual causes (time, illness, their own schemes backfiring, etc). Subsequently, only their children and grandchildren were left with the scraps of power they had obtained, and when one of those children employed Luo Binghe as a bodyguard, his initial plan to assassinate them eventually fell by the wayside. After all, the wrongdoings weren't actually theirs. From that point, Binghe was able to restore himself to a more comfortable life, joining his new employer on their travels until he had set aside enough earnings to take his leave before his youthful good-looks earned him suspicion. He then began investing in travel and trade, specifically cargo ships, because never spending too long in the same place or around the same people helped disguise his immortality. He had found that, at least for now, this served him better than playing the part of a cultivator. It also gave him time to try and actually repair his ruined cultivation base somewhat, and fighting pirates proved very diverting.
Binghe is midway through recounting his adventures with a gigantic sea monster, while Shen Yuan hangs on every word, when they're interrupted by the arrival of a brash young mistress, clearly wealthy and trained in cultivation. The young lady declares that there is a rumor that a fallen god and a demon meet in this tea house once a century, that they wield strange powers, etc etc, and she intends to interrogate them both with the assistance of her hired muscle and her own spiritual weapon, and discover the truth of the matter. Then she whips out, well, a whip!
Before Shen Yuan can deal with the matter, Luo Binghe is already on his feet, disarming the goons and breaking a few arms in the process. Shen Yuan is so distracted that he almost misses the whip aimed right for him, but before Binghe can catch the barbed weapon with his bare hand (wtf, Binghe, no) Shen Yuan deflects it with a wave of his fan, and then efficiently knocks the troublesome young lady unconscious. The hired muscle flees, Shen Yuan arranges for their assailant to be placed in a room upstairs until she regains consciousness, and he and Binghe resume their meal and conversation in relative peace.
Even though it's clear that Luo Binghe has not yet reached the end of his tolerance for life, Shen Yuan nevertheless finds himself strangely reluctant to part ways at the end of the night. Still, he does, because that's what is expected of him, gently denying Luo Binghe's suggestions that they find some other establishment to continue their conversation at. He also has to investigate these "rumors" that the young lady mentioned. It's probably nothing (Shang Qinghua has a loose tongue when he's drunk, and a lot of imaginative storytellers have frequented this tea house over the years) but he doesn't like being caught unawares like that. Heavenly politics are... complicated, it's best not to court unwanted attention in any capacity.
Another hundred years go by. This time, when they meet at the tea house, Luo Binghe asks Shen Yuan why he keeps it up. Why did he pick Binghe? What is he really after? When Shen Yuan fails to give any kind of clear answer, Luo Binghe shoots his shot and makes a (very obvious) move on him.
Shen Yuan, flustered, gets up and flees. Ignoring Luo Binghe's calls after him. It just doesn't make any sense! Why would Binghe do that?! He's a man who once had a harem of wives in the triple digits! Clearly he's not gay, so what was that all about? Was he just messing with him?! How dare he! Etc, etc.
Another century passes. Luo Binghe waits at the tea house, which has fallen onto hard times again. With the construction of some new roadways, travelers no longer pass through as often. Binghe listens, worried, to the proprietor's laments that this old place will probably not be around in another hundred years. He listens because he has no one else to speak to, because Shen Yuan has not shown up. Not that morning, not during the day, not come evening, and not now that it is closing time. Binghe nevertheless charms and bribes the proprietor to let him stay even after the place has shuttered.
It seems damning, of course. He pressed too hard and now his mysterious benefactor wants nothing more to do with him. Except, no, he refuses to accept that. He's still immortal. And he has gleaned enough of Shen Yuan's character by now that he thinks that even if he was rejected, he would be let down more clearly and gently than this. The more he thinks about it, the less willing Luo Binghe is to believe that he has been deliberately stood up (also, since the tenor of his confession was different from Hob Gadling's, he never delivered an ultimatum about what it might imply when they met up again).
Over the centuries, Luo Binghe has built up a few contacts with similarly strange and supernatural stories. Cultivators, sure, but also others, fortune tellers and people of strange ancestry, questionable abilities, those who have interacted with powerful beings of mysterious provenance. He makes his way to a certain gambling den, frequented often by such people, and while he flashes around enough money to draw curiosity, he collects information. Shen Yuan wasn't the only person who started paying more attention to the kinds of rumors surrounding the two of them after their confrontation with the young cultivator a couple centuries ago. And in fact, Luo Binghe has been spending many, many years trying to find out more about his mystery man. Though, too many potential deities and immortals fit his description for him to have ever conclusively figured much out.
This is how Binghe gets wind of a rumor that an eccentric occultist has somehow captured a god in his basement...
#svsss#bingqiu#scum villain's self saving system#bingyuan#scum villain#long post#whoever the roderick burgess proxy is here he's got a big storm coming#going the classic dreamling fanfic route and having shen yuan get rescued instead of having to escape by himself#shang qinghua has definitely made other people immortal on various whims and impulses#he bestows his gift recklessly on a betrayed young prince at one point and the divine emperor is just like 'enough!'#'if you're doing to do this I'm going to make you babysit the results! you descend and work for that prince now!' so he's got his hands ful#dreamling might be the situation but shen yuan isn't much of a dream of the endless type#and luo binghe is nothing like hob gadling lol#'I want to live because I love life!' nope it's mostly about spite#the hardest part of this AU is imagining a universe where shen yuan would ignore luo binghe for long enough to let actual centuries pass
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A Wonderland Of Yanderes
Twisted Wonderland AU - Inspired by @yandere-daydreams
Part 1 Part 2
ImagineâŠ
A world where the behavior of Yanderes is completely acceptable, if not normal.
Where darlings are stalked, kidnapped, and kept by their Yanderes.
Where murder in the name of love can be pushed aside, as a simple accident.
Where itâs common for the Yanderes to learn about how to control their darlings as soon as theyâre able.
Not all places in this Twisted Wonderland are equal though.
The Queendom of Roses and the Shaftlands are by far the best places to be if youâre a darling. Darling rights prevent Yandereâs from being horrifically abusive, locking them away from the outside world for good or using too harsh of punishments. Murder is a major no-no, and Yanderes can lose their darlings forever if theyâve committed such a heinous crime. Darlings can even be taken away for lesser crimes, placed in the care of the state far away from their abusive yanderes.Â
But as we all know, people will find their ways to bend the rules. Manipulation and controlling techniques are common in these zones, often holding the darlingsâ children over their heads, or bribing their way out of the law.
On the flipside, the Sunset Savannah and the Coral Sea are some of the worst places to be. While women are treated as equals, darlings are not. Theyâre considered the prey locked in the jaws of the predators. Whether they slip from the jaws is their own business. Darlings are free to run and hide, but nothingâs stopping their Yanderes from throwing them back over their shoulders back to their lives of captivity. Whether a darlingâs punishment is fair or not, as long as they're not dead, Yandereâs do whatever they please. Murder is less bad of a crime here if done in a battle for a darlingâs hand.Â
The Sunset Savannahâs Kingâs own wife was a darling, and even she canât get away from his âloveâ and âaffectionâ. Though she never complains, always by her husbandâs or childâs side.
Though some Darlings are smart, running off to one of the nationâs that give them more freedoms. Still, if you canât get them on your own, thanks to those stupid laws, thereâs a whole list of Bounty Hunters willing to do it for you. Theyâre scary good, and your darling will be back before you know it.
The Scalding Sands rests safely in the middle of the spectrum. Darlings carry some rights and freedoms but thatâs only in the most horrible of extremes. Theyâre treated as fragile, and itâs in everyoneâs best interest to look after them. Theyâre traditionally spoiled with riches and wealth, but thatâs just to cover up the bruises, both from pleasure and punishments.
Even with the few freedoms of the darlings, the sparkling sand of the desert can be so deceiving. A black market for darling recapture, whether taken legally or runaways. Hitmen who can hide corpses of rivals in the desert.Â
The Isle of Lamentation is completely separate from the world, but it's full of Yandereâs all the same. So many of the staff are Yandereâs yet almost none have darlings. Theyâre practically voyeurs watching their darlings from afar, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. The Shroud familyâs current matriarch was darling from the outside world, and most of the people there are certain that even her living son hasn't seen her since last spring.Â
The isolation from the world is perfect for hiding away darlings. And theyâll go crazy for any interaction and affection, like a Persphone locked in the Underworld.
If the Sunset Savannah is old-fashioned in its treatment of darlings, then the Briar Valley is practically ancient. Â The darlingsâ lives are completely controlled by their yanderes, kept under lock and key for the remainder of their lives. Darlings rarely leave their homes without their yanderes acting as escorts, with beautiful collars of jewels and precious stones marking them as darlings and the fine, equally ornate leashes in their yanderesâ hands as their âownersâ. Darlings are considered so fragile, that the outside world is far too dangerous for them, that itâs safer where theyâre kept by their yanderes. Murder in the name of a darling is practically excused, as long as it was in the name of protecting their dainty darlings.
On Sage Island the two rival schools are polar opposites.
Royal Sword Academy is honestly full of delusional yanderes, looking for a darling to be their princess to save, their perfect damsels in distress. All they want is to fall in love at first sight with the darling of their dreams. The one who they'll be enchanted with and will sing a love song that will move the hearts of millions with.
They excuse all concerning actions with a simple wave of the hand. They followed you home? They were just looking out for you. Theyâve been stalking you? They just want to make sure youâre ok! You caught them over your bed, pink faced, while you were asleep? They probably where just checking to make sure they could wake you up with a kiss, you know the love stories~
Night Raven College is more honest. They know what they are and theyâre not hiding it. Since NRCâs full of different students, the crimes that were once illegal in their hometowns, are completely fine here. As long as you donât get caught. Then you might have detention while we figure out how to make it look like an accident.Â
Classes about proper Darling care and how to get away with other crimes are mandatory for first years, but after that it becomes an elective. Potion Classes teach how to make the best love potions, tranquilisers and the deadliest of poisons that kill without a trace. Animal Language to communicate with the local fauna if your darling runs away into the woods, and you canât find them. Phys Ed to carry your darling away whether they're unconscious or kicking and screaming with ease.
But what about you? What does that mean for poor, little you? Lost in a world you barely know anything about. And worst yet, youâre a darling. Try your best to get back homeâŠâŠ
âŠ..If they let you that is.
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kenzieluvssukuna :: personaltrainer!sukuna x thick!reader (18+) â
desc â.Ë⥠àŁȘ Ë ever since you were young, you've struggled with your weight - it becoming one of your biggest insecurities. now as an adult, you actually have the financial freedom to invest into yourself leading you to start going your local gym. you end up running into someone who was willing to help you... the only problem was that he didn't seem as invested in your weight loss as you were. cw â§â©âË. modern/no curses au, body image insecurity, fatshamingđ, sukuna knows how to use a phone, slow burn-ish (they don't smash in this part), mastĂșrbation (f), sĂ©xting // 3.5k wc // part 2
âAre you sure you should eat that?â âYou would be so much prettier if you just dropped a few pounds.â âYouâll never date anyone looking like that!â
Ever since you were young, all the people in your life ever seemed to be concerned with was your weight - whether that be murmured judgements amongst themselves or just directly to your face. At first it used to upset you, the ostracisation making you feel like there was permanently a spotlight on you no matter where you went; strangers silently judging you, making assumptions or just flat out insulting you.
If you wanted to go out to a restaurant, it felt like you were be shamed out of eating anything that could be deemed as âunhealthyâ. Shopping for clothes was a difficulty - irregular clothing sizes meaning that the majority of your teenage shopping trips ended with you tearing up in the changing room as you fought with many a pair of stupid jeans that fit your calves perfectly well, but as you tugged them up to your plush thighs they got painfully stuck; your mom having to intervene and haul the wretched things back down.
As you grew out of adolescence and into adulthood, you quickly learnt how to mask the insecurity and self-doubt you had accumulated, leaning fully into the âfunny, fat friendâ role. You kept a fake smile plastered on your face as friends and family lamented on about the woeâs of constantly being approached by men and how lucky you were that you didnât have to worry about that.
You werenât nearly as perturbed with your appearance as others seemed to be, puberty being instrumental in recomposing your juvenile body to its current physique - majority of your fat moving to fill out your hips and bust. You definitely still had a tummy and back rolls but the thickness of your thighs and generous glutes were something that you felt your friends were at least a little envious of, often catching them gawking at the way your hips swayed as you walked or how your breasts jiggled as you moved your hands around.
Regardless of your growing acceptance of your larger body size, there were still times when you felt like that young girl who was relentlessly bullied and mocked due to something as superficial as how she looked. You wanted to move on from ever feeling like that again, which is what lead you to start going to the gym.
If you could mould yourself, to how otherâs wanted you to look and be seen as not even beautiful but just normal - maybe you wouldnât have this heaviness in your heart, maybe you would finally feel fully accepted by the people in your life and maybe youâd not constantly feel on edge when in public or open spaces.
Your first few trips to the gym were pretty mundane. You made sure to properly stretch before attempting weighted exercise - deep squats and hip flexors being your favourite warm-up, the slight tension and warm rush of blood flow putting you in the perfect mind frame for a challenging but rewarding workout.
The routine and order that the gym was able to give you didnât just help you to achieve your goal of weight-loss but also caused a drastic improvement to your mental health; your brain being able to just.. switch off as you pounded your feet into the conveyer belt of the treadmill.
However, your gym session a couple weeks ago was is were things started to change.
You sauntered in, light pink hydroflask complementing your pastel two-piece - a sports bra with interweaving straps around your back for increased support and cycling shorts that nicely hugged your ample hips and gave your rear a helpful lift.
Making your way to the padded area used for low impact exercise, you got to work. Starting out with a deep stretch in your hamstrings and then working back up to your upper hips. As you leant back up from a standing toe touch, you felt an intimidating presence looming over you. You stumbled back slightly, eyes flitting upwards to take in this unwelcome interruption.
The first thing you noted was that he was muscular - corded muscles rippling as he squatted down to meet your gaze. He had thick, black markings all over his body from what you could tell, two lines on both his upper thighs and forearms being the only visible ones currently, peaking out from his snug fitting compression shirt and loose training shorts.
He even had it on his face, symmetrical lines running from the top of his jaw down to his chin meeting in a small triangle alongside a pointed line across his nose. His hair was almost the same colour as your bottle - a soft pink that seemed almost contradictory to his hard exterior.
âYour form.â He grumbled. You blinked back, not really grasping what he was trying to say.
âFor Godâs sake, your form woman! Are you trying to get injured or something?â His dark eyes observed you with something that was⊠unfamiliar. You were used to people looking at you with disgust or even pity but he looked at you with a genuine curiosity.
âYou keep rounding your back. That will cause you more harm than good in the long termâ he continued on, not seeming to take your lack of response as a deterrent.
âStand up.â
It was unclear to you why you were mindlessly following this random manâs instructions but nevertheless you humoured him - following his sharp commands as he directed you into a form that was better suited to your body type, taking into account your larger proportions which allowed for a much deeper and satisfying stretch. You went to crane your head up as you heard the manâs voice behind you.
âAht- I never said you could moveâ he chided, reaching out a large, calloused palm to press you back down into the corrected pose. âI was enjoying the view.â
It took you a moment to understand the implication of what he meant, cheeks burning as you stood up properly. âI donât think I got your name..?â
He smirked, passing you a card with his name and number on ââŠ'nameâs Sukuna, I work as a personal trainer at this gym sometimes.â
He paused, shamelessly looking you up and down - pretty much just eye-fucking you in the middle of the gym. âif you ever need someone to help you work out, âm here.â He sauntered off, not even bothering to wait for your response.
The rest of your workout was spent mulling over the intriguing man you had just met. Whilst his methods were⊠unconventional and he could be a little assertive, he clearly knew a lot more about the gym than you and could be quite useful?
When you got back to your place, the first thing you did was take a good look at the card he had given you, saving the number on the back and sending him a quick message.
âŠ
you: heyyy, itâs the girl you helped at the gym today! tysm for ur advice, it was really useful. :) would you be free anytime this week to help me with some leg workouts?
sukuna: i remember you
sukuna: do you want to look like this?
sukuna: [image attachment]
âŠ
Unsure of what he was really talking about, you immediately clicked the image expecting it to be a photo of a previous client who was in a similar position or honestly anything but a selfie of his glistening torso.
Black markings continuing down from his shoulders meeting into the middle of his pectorals, two symmetrical pointed lines running deep along his tensed abs, an arm slightly raised to show the circle on the top of his deltoid. He was in a dark room but the flash from the camera gave you a good view of his lap - legs spread wide, the grey sweatpants he was wearing allowing you to see everything.
âŠ
sukuna: so?
âŠ
You wereâŠstunned to say the least. I mean you did get the vibe that he was checking you out but you werenât used to men being so forward with you. You genuinely wanted him to help you work out though so you responded back earnestly stating that whilst you did appreciate his physique, you werenât trying to completely change the way you looked - you had actually grown from your original aim of going to the gym just for weight loss and wanted to instead focus on improving your stamina and muscle gain, any pounds shed from that alone would be satisfactory for you.
âŠ
sukuna: i understand
sukuna: lets meet tuesday
sukuna: i have the perfect workout for you
âŠ
The wait for Tuesday to come felt absolutely agonising. The day before you had actually gone through your closet looking for your cutest gym set to wear, spending hours agonising over whether you should go for a unitard that clung tightly to your curves or one of your more⊠skimpier sets that allowed for a little recoil when you moved.
Whilst you knew this definitely wasnât a date and had already come to the conclusion that Sukuna was certainly the type of trainer to flirt with all his clients - this gym session definitely felt charged in some kinda way.
You walked into the gym that Tuesday quite apprehensive; bringing your light blue hydroflask this time to better match with the set you decided on, a cropped slim fit shirt and looser pair of shorts (to allow for greater range of motion but it does help they also show the underside of your ass).
As soon as you stepped into the gym, you spotted the pink-haired man standing in the padded area you normally start in, his eyes dragging up your frame; a slow grin spreading across his lips as he beckoned you over with two of his fingers.
The walk to him felt like an eternity, dark eyes tinged with a streak of red as he unreservedly studied you - eyes flitting down to the high cut of your shorts, ass jiggling with every step you took.
You felt blood rush to your face, Sukunaâs ogling making you feel so shy. You finally reached him, his hooded gaze rendering you speechless for a good minute or so as the two of you just looked at each other silently.
âHello to you tooâ He sniggered, turning to the side to reveal the assortment of weights he had selected for todayâs workout. âThis is going to be the hardest workout of your life.â
âSounds good!â you innocently beamed, always being up for a good challenge and it seemed like Sukuna was willing to give you one.
âWoman, I donât think you understand,â He wiped a hand over his jaw, seeming to be finding your misguided enthusiasm hilarious, ââŠânless, you are some kind of masochist - there is no chance youâll enjoy thisâ
You looked up at him after he said this, smile faltering slightly at the sight of the very poorly hidden smirk on his face. He was really going to try push you to your limit but⊠he didnât know how stubborn you could be.
The two of you went through the warm-up smoothly enough, Sukunaâs critical eye spotting the myriad of mistakes you were making; hands sliding against the soft, contours of your body to position you in the correct positions.
It was hard to remind yourself where you were when his broad palms reached around the expanse of your thighs, lingering in the inner crevices as he squeezed lightly to encourage you to push back against him to deepen your stretch. You really couldnât tell whether Sukuna was affected in the same way you seemed to be, his previously heated gaze being replaced with a much calmer and cooler one - his focus seeming to be on making this workout the âhardest one of your lifeâ.
You then moved onto weights, the main target of the day being glutes as requested by you. Sukuna had queried about what muscle groups you targeted least and from there promised to make you a future guide to help you work them out more; but explained that today he would start with something familiar, âI donât want to scare you off.â
To help improve your weight lifting form, he would model how he wanted you to position yourself and then get you to copy him. This would have been extremely helpful if you were actually paying attention to what he was doing, your mind being more focused on the way his muscles flexed and relaxed as he moved into the poses; you could literally see the tendons wrapping and twisting as he dropped into a squat, thighs flattening out as adductors tensed up creating a deep crevice in the middle.
âWoman.â he growled, dragging you out of your daydream. âI know you didnât just call me here to lust over my body.â He made eye contact with you through the mirror in front, âYou couldâve just come to mine if that was the caseâ.
Sukuna really knew how to make you flustered, whether that be on purpose or that just being his personality. You couldnât really decipher whether he actually meant what he said or if his matter-of-fact tone just made everything flirtatious. It didnât help that he really didnât mind getting up close and personal with his training, hands securely gripping your sides as you held two dumbbells above your head, gently easing into a weighted squat. He made you do this 20 times - your body trembly and achy by the 15th rep.
âSukunaâŠ.I donât think I can do anymoreâ you wheezed, beads of sweat running down from your hairline.
âDonât be a babyâ he muttered into your ear, causing you to suddenly become hyperaware of his proximity to you; his body essentially caging you in as he helped to pull you down. You shivered slightly, willing your body to focus on the really heavy fucking weights above your head and not the man hovering behind you. You flicked your eyes back up to the mirror to centre yourself only to find Sukunaâs eyes glued to your rear - the squat position you were currently in making it look even bigger than normal, your spread legs isolating each cheek with the sliver of undercheek peeking out tensing up into your thigh due to your poor balance.
It was kinda comical to see how transfixed he was - eyes completely blacked out with his grip becoming slightly tighter as you dipped lower and lower. As you came back up you tipped yourself forward purposefully to seem as if you were going to fall over. Snapping out of his daze, Sukuna fully pulled you back into his chest; lower back brushing up against his semi-hard length as your weights clattered against the floor. You turned your head upwards to try and catch his eye only to find him already staring back down at you, face stern, âS-Stop messing around, woman.â He barked out, swiftly moving to create some distance between the two of you.
The rest of the workout continued without much interference from yourself or Sukuna; the second half primarily consisting of cardio which meant that little guidance was actually needed. Whilst you were grateful for his assistance, you couldnât help but feel like you wanted something more - missing the physical contact that was so prevalent at the beginning of your workout.
âAll done!â you smiled as the machine slowed to a stop, your gruelling 30 minutes on the stair-master finally being over. You staggered over to the pink-haired man who was lazily lounging on the couch at reception, proud that you had struggled your way through his workout and lived to tell the tale.
âWhy are you soâŠhappy?â He looked mildly conflicted, impressed that you had managed to make it through his workout but disappointed that he hadnât managed to break you.
ââCause I completed your workout, sillyâ He found the cheesy grin on your face infuriatingly cute, the way your your eyes crinkled up and dimples poked out actually making his heart beat slightly faster.
âIâm not silly, brat.â He spat out, hand moving down to ruffle your hair, much to your annoyance.
âSince you found this workout so easy, letâs see how you find the one at my house.â
Oh.
The look on Sukunaâs face was akin to the likes of a predator that had just caught its prey; a wide, malfeasant grin plastered on his face as his eyes went to a darkened black.
He was talking about⊠oh.
You could literally feel yourself dripping as you glanced up at Sukuna, mouth dry as he strolled out of the gym silently - looking back with a gleam in his eyes as the doors to the gym slid shut.
The drive home was quiet, mind reeling at the sudden turn of events. Yes, Sukuna had been very flirty during your interactions but you never thought it was going to escalate to this point where he essentially invited you round⊠to fuck.
You got home, showered, changed, ate and tucked yourself in for bed in a daze, thoughts still scrambled as you tossed and turned desperately trying to turn off your racing thoughts.
DING
Your hand reached out to grasp your phone. You knew that it could only be one person texting you at this hour.
âŠ
sukuna: mine friday @ 8?
sukuna: unless you don't want to see more of this
sukuna: [image attachment]
âŠ
Oh, he definitely did not waste any time. Your finger raced to click open the attachment, the picture this time being a selfie from a lower angle showcasing a little more of the pink-haired manâs lower body; boxers pulled down to show you his harsh v-line and happy trail that confirmed that the curtains do match the drapes. You could see the the small veins wrapping around his flexed forearm as he twisted his arm to the side to show the sheer amount of muscle he had managed to build in just that one area, bicep almost tripling in size.
As much as you wanted to pretend his excessive showmanship didnât impress you, your body was telling a different story; thighs slowly rubbing together as you felt heat rush down between your legs.
âŠ
sukuna: i know what you are doing
sukuna: show me.
âŠ
Sheets pushed to the side, you pulled down your shorts with an inhumane level of strength. Something about how self-assured and confident he was just made you horny. The way he just told you what to do and you actually did it was something you didnât realise youâd liked so much until now, your body trembling with need.
You started filming, a hand spreading apart your folds as the one holding the phone drew closer to showcase how drenched you already were. Your swollen clit was red and angry, begging for attention as your fingertips slowly skimmed along the edges of your cunt. As much as you wanted to wanted to give Sukuna a real show, you also really wanted to come. Eventually, you brought two fingers to your sensitive clit and smeared all of the slick you had gathered before, just the mere pressure making you groan lowly in pleasure. You leisurely started to build up speed, fingers readjusting to allow you to prod into your tight hole, fingers pressing up against your walls in a way that only allowed you to squeeze down onto them.
Your room was filled with the sounds of your quiet whimpers and moans as the pressure in the lower half of your body started to build up more and more to the point where you were about to climax. Your breathing became shallower and was replaced by heavy pants as you tried to evade the inevitable for a little longer, not wanting to stroke Sukunaâs ego any further by coming almost immediately at the sight of him.
Right when you couldnât hold back any longer you decided to cut the video - he could see you come when the two of you meet on Friday. Until then, heâd have to be satisfied with your video.
You sent the video and threw your phone on the bed, left hand joining your right in plunging into your cunt; your body arching away from the bed as you reached your peak and came hard, gushing out all over your sheets.
Your head felt fuzzy as you lay there for a moment, the only sound in the room being your phone rapidly buzzing.
âŠ
sukuna: fuck
sukuna: you look so good
sukuna: cant believe you cut it there
sukuna: what a little tease
sukuna: you'll see what i do to women who tease me.
âŠ
Friday could not come sooner.
part 2
a/n â§â©âË. ive been binge watching industry and wow being a banker actually seems interesting wtf.. i had to cancel my gym membership cause im moving for uni and i miss it so much i cant wait to start going again đ
#kenzieluvssukuna#kenzieluvs#jjk#jjk x reader#jujustsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x y/n#jujutsu kaisen smut#sukuna x reader#jjk sukuna#sukuna x you#sukuna x y/n#ryomen sukuna x reader#ryomen sukuna x you#ryomen sukuna smut#sukuna smut
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