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hyuckiefluff · 7 days ago

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MOONSTRUCK | p. jisung

pairing: werewolf!hufflepuff! jisung x hufflepuff!fem. reader genre: best friends to lovers, hogwarts/supernatural au, angst, smut. wc: 18.3k+ summary: after a cruel prank leaves jisung cursed, he withdraws from everyone—including you, his closest friend. but secrets can't stay hidden forever, and when a full moon pulls you into the darkness he's tried so desperately to conceal, there's no going back. content warnings: werewolf lore & transformation, drug usage, rut/mating behavior, rough sex, biting/marking, mild breeding kink, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, knotting, bulge kink, mentions of bruising & blood, mild body horror, brief medical talk (contraceptive), aftercare. lmk if i missed any! a/n: nearly a month in the making and i can finally say i’m satisfied enough to post this lol. i’m actually really happy with how it turned out—and i finally got to write about werewolves, which has been on my list forever. canonically, werewolves in the HP universe (and most lore tbh) are dangerous nocturnal creatures and primarily bloodthirsty. but for this fic, i took a step away from that and leaned into the rut aspect instead because why not ;) pls don’t judge the cover, i had picsart and a dream lol. btw moonstruck by enhypen and nda by billie eilish are two songs u should listen to while reading this!

ps: i don’t know why i was under the assumption that everyone knows hp terms but i realized that is not the case after my mark fic 😭 so even though i didn’t use too many obscure ones here, here’s a little reference guide just in case: legilimens– someone who can read minds or emotions squib– a non-magical person born into a magical family (in this fic, it’s thrown around more like calling someone useless/coward) wolfsbane– a potion that allows werewolves to keep their mind during a full moon; in hp lore they still transform, but in this fic it's not a full transformation. feel free to message me if anything else was confusing! happy reading<3

You didn’t expect your seventh year at Hogwarts to feel like grieving someone who was still alive.

Three months ago, Park Jisung was still your best friend. Now, he can’t even stand being near you.

The suddenness of this change was something you couldn’t wrap around your head. But things don’t always fall apart all at once. Sometimes they drift until you’re left staring across a room at someone who used to know everything about you and wondering when they became a stranger.

He was the very first friend you made at Hogwarts. You remember how he barely spoke to anyone, and you sat next to him in Transfiguration class just because there was an empty seat. You charmed your quill into a frog that wouldn’t stop croaking, and when he finally cracked a smile, it felt like you’d won something important.

He was awkward and soft-spoken, unsure of himself in the way most boys are before they grow into their limbs. But you liked him instantly. Probably because he liked the same books as you, or because he never made fun of you for being nervous on a broom.

He even held your hand during your first flying lesson, hovering near you the whole time so you wouldn’t be scared. Years later, you found out he was just as scared of heights as you were and only pretended not to be to make you feel safe.

By fifth year, you spent so much time together that you could finish each other’s sentences. By sixth, you were bringing blankets to the highest tower in the castle and naming stars until you both fell asleep mid conversation. There wasn’t a single version of your life in Hogwarts that didn’t include him.

You thought seventh year would be just like that….

You were wrong.

After a summer of sending each other daily letters, pages and pages of thoughts, jokes, and half-sincere promises to never grow up, you returned to school thinking nothing could change.

And at first, it didn’t.

You walked to classes together, fell asleep with your legs tangled on the same couch, pretending not to hear the way people whispered about it the next morning, and snuck out of the common room after curfew not caring that you’d get caught.

The Astronomy Tower was your favorite place, you discovered how pretty it looked at night in your third year.

It was quiet that evening, the wind tugging at your robes as you leaned over the battlement. Jisung set down the little paper packet he’d smuggled from the kitchens—honey biscuits, still warm—and nudged it toward you.

“Payment for helping with my Potions homework,” he said, trying to be casual, though the tips of his ears were already pink.

You laughed and took one, bumping his shoulder with yours. “You’d owe me a whole bakery if this were the price.”

He smiled softly. The moonlight caught in his hair, and for a second you forgot the chill entirely.

“Close your eyes,” he said suddenly.

You arched an eyebrow but obeyed. Something light, wool‑soft, was placed around your shoulders. You opened your eyes to find his black‑and‑yellow scarf wrapped there, smelling faintly of cedarwood soap and parchment ink—purely, unmistakably Jisung.

“You’re shivering,” he mumbled, eyes on his shoes. “Couldn’t have my star‑chart partner freeze.”

You swallowed a reply that felt too big, and instead reached for his hand where it rested on the stone ledge. Your fingers threaded with his, easy as blinking. He stiffened for a second then squeezed back. When you looked up, his gaze was already fixed on you, wide and bright, as though the whole sky were reflected there instead of above your heads.

Neither of you moved for a long while. Orion wheeled overhead, the biscuits cooled, and the castle bells tolled curfew far below. But the only thing you really noticed was the warmth of his palm against yours, and the way your heart tripped every time he glanced your way and smiled shyly.

You learned just how soft‑hearted Jisung was that day on the Astronomy Tower.

Which is why, a few weeks into seventh year, it struck you as utterly wrong when rumors reached you that he’d been seen tagging along behind Lee Seungmin. Seungmin was everything Jisung wasn’t—loud, sharp‑tongued, the sort of Slytherin who thought shoving first‑years into suits of armor was a hobby and swapping curse ingredients under the table was a joke. He hexed quills to peck at classmates and bragged about detentions like they were trophies.

Jisung, by contrast, apologized when he bumped into someone and brought extra quills for anyone who forgot theirs. He flinched at raised voices and fed the barn owls after hours because he worried they were lonely.

So hearing his name linked with Seungmin’s felt like hearing that rain was falling upward. At first you laughed it off, because surely someone must have mixed him up with another quiet Hufflepuff. But then Jisung started arriving late to meals, dodging your study sessions, mumbling vague excuses you’d never heard from him before.

That was when you realized the rumor wasn’t a mistake—and that something was very, very wrong.

Seventh Year

September settled over the castle in a bright rush of golden leaves and new parchment, and for a while everything felt the way it always had. You and Jisung were crossing the courtyard—still laughing about his theory that Professor Lockhart polished his hair with Mrs. Skower’s Extra‑Shine—when a voice cut through the chatter behind you.

“Oi, Park!”

You both turned. Lee Seungmin jogged toward you, grinning widelys. You didn’t bother hiding your sigh.

“Still on for tonight?” he asked, dropping his voice as he leaned in toward Jisung.

“I’m not sure. I’ve got a Potions essay to finish.” Jisung shifted akwardly.

Seungmin smacked him on the back, too hard to be friendly. “Come on, you’ve bailed twice already.”

You stepped forward, folding your arms. “Don’t you have that same essay, Seungmin? It’s half the term grade.”

He turned, as if noticing you for the first time and smirked “Why bother? Snape’s going to fail me anyway.”

“Typical,” you muttered.

“I’ll let you know later,” Jisung said quickly, cutting between you before another jab could leave your mouth.

Seungmin’s gaze lingered on you, faintly mocking, before he turned away with a humorless laugh. “Sure thing, Park.”

The moment he was out of earshot you exhaled. “Since when are you and Seungmin… close?”

“We’re not,” Jisung said, scratching at the back of his neck. “He just hangs around sometimes.”

You searched his face. “You two have nothing in common.”

“It isn’t a big deal,” he insisted, but the laugh that followed sounded fake.

“It is if you’re sneaking off with someone like him,” you said, sharper than you meant to, but the worry was too much to hide.

Jisung’s gaze dropped to his shoes. “I didn’t think it was worth mentioning.”

You didn’t say anything after that. You just walked the rest of the way to class in silence with a sense of unease settling on your chest.

That was when the distance began to show.

First, he started seating two rows over in Charms, smiling apologetically whenever you glanced his way but never moving back. He stopped leaving crooked little jokes on the margins of your Transfiguration notes or looking at you and trying not to laugh whenever Professor Lockhart messed up a spell.

He still spoke to you, yet every conversation felt stitched together, as if he were acting out a script. One afternoon you finally asked, “Are we all right?” He nodded so quickly you had a hard time believing it.

The next time you saw him with Seungmin it was well past curfew.

You had just left the library after wrestling Arithmancy proofs and stopped short as soon as you rounded the corner near the dungeon stairs. There was Seungmin leaning against the wall and Jisung half‑turned away, both speaking in low murmurs. You caught only fragments of Seungmin’s lazy drawl and Jisung’s tight replies. Then Seungmin laughed sharply, and your best friend flinched as though struck.

Your loud footsteps made both of their heads snap up.

“Y/N,” Jisung blurted, striding toward you as if to block your view. “Why are you out so late?”

“I could ask you the same.” You said arching a brow.

Behind him, Seungmin offered a thin grin before slipping down the stairs into the darkness of the dungeons.

Jisung pressed a hand to his eyes. “I was heading back to the dorm.”

“What did he want?”

“He—” Jisung’s voice faltered and for a heartbeat you saw the words gather behind his lips but he swallowed them down. “It’s nothing.”

“Nothing?” Your voice cracked on the word. “Come on, Ji.”

“I’m just tired,” he whispered. “Can we talk tomorrow?”

Silence pooled between you, at last you forced a smile neither of you believed. “All right. Tomorrow.”

But tomorrow never arrived—at least, not the kind where he told you what was wrong.

Because the next day Jisung never came to class at all.

Two whole days slid by without a glimpse of him and you were so on edge you kept glancing over your shoulder, half‑expecting his soft voice behind you. Or hoping he might walk into the library with that shy lopsided smile, asking if you had spare parchment which he always ran out of because his handwriting was too big and messy.

But he wasn’t anywhere, and no one seemed willing to notice besides you.

By lunch on the second day you couldn’t keep silent. Renjun was halfway through a Honeydukes bar, mumbling that chocolate boosted cognitive function, when you leaned across the table and murmured, “Do you know what’s going on with Jisung?”

He froze mid‑bite. “What?”

“Renjun,” you said, low and tight, “you know he hasn’t been to class, or in the common room. He isn’t anywhere.”

“I thought he was sick,” Renjun offered with a shrug that felt rehearsed.

“He isn’t in the hospital wing, and he hasn’t answered any of my owls.”

A flicker of something, maybe guilt, crossed his face. “Maybe he just… needs space?”

Your gaze sharpened. “Did something happen?”

“No,” he blurted too fast. “No, not that I know of.”

“Renjun.”

“I swear, I don’t know.” He wouldn’t meet your eyes. That was answer enough, but you let it drop for now.

That evening, heading back from a prefect meeting, you passed the hidden entrance to the Slytherin common room and heard voices up the corridor.

You weren’t trying to eavesdrop—until one word snapped you still.

“Jisung.”

“Snape got to him before—”

“—thought he was going to die, mate—”

“—Seungmin won’t shut up, keeps saying it wasn’t meant to go that far—”

A rush of blood pounded in your ears as you picked up bits of the hushed conversation. You edged closer and caught sight of Jay and Niki—Seungmin’s friends—half hidden in the shadows, whispering behind cupped hands.

Your fingers curled into fists at your sides. Your thoughts finally being confirmed; Something happened to Jisung and Seungmin was at the heart of it.

You didn’t sleep a minute that night. Every time you shut your eyes, the conversation replayed in your head until dawn bled through the curtains and you were already out of bed, fury keeping you upright.

You found Seungmin loitering outside the Great Hall, laughing too loudly at something Jay and Niki had said. You crossed the marble floor without a second thought.

“Where is he?”

The smile slipped from Seungmin’s face. He cocked his head, all polite confusion. “Sorry, where’s who?”

“Drop the act,” you said, stepping close enough that he had to tilt his chin to keep eye contact. “I heard your lackeys talking last night. Where’s Jisung?”

Jay and Niki exchanged a look but said nothing..

Seungmin gave a thin, brittle laugh. “You’re hearing ghosts, sweetheart. Why would I bother with Park?”

“A better question,” you started, voice cold, “is why you’ve been so attached to him lately. You don’t exactly run in the same circles, so what did you talk him into?”

Something sharpened in Seungmin’s eyes and he leaned in by a fraction. “Careful with what you’re accusing me of.”

“Or what?” You didn’t move. “You’ll do to me what you did to him?”

For a heartbeat his mask slipped, just long enough to confirm you’d scored a direct hit.

“I didn’t touch him,” he said, almost gently. “Whatever mess Park’s in? He walked into it himself”

“Liar.”

He dipped his head, a mock‑sympathetic smile curling at his mouth. “You think you know him so well, huh? Ever think that maybe he finally got tired of you shadowing him like a needy bitc—”

Your wand was at his throat before the last word finished leaving his lips. The corridor went silent except for your breathing.

“You know nothing about us,” you said, voice shaking with contained fury. “If he’s hurt, I’ll make sure everyone here knows exactly whose fault it is.”

Seungmin’s gaze flicked to the tip of your wand, then back to your face. A slow, poisonous smile spread. “Ask too many questions, Y/N, and you might choke on the answers.”

He stepped back with his hands raised in surrender, and strolled away. Jay and Niki followed in uneasy silence. You lowered your wand, fingers trembling with adrenaline.

His parting smile told you everything about his involvement. But you still didn’t have clear answers.

So you went to seek the other person allegedly involved. Snape.

When you descended into the dungeons, the silence was immediate and unnatural. No one ever came this far during free periods; only Professor Snape’s office existed at the end of this corridor, buried deep in the coldest, most isolated part of the castle.

Faint green flames floated midair along the walls, suspended in enchanted sconces that made no sound and cast no warmth. They pulsed gently, like breathing, and their glow warped the stone around them, making the shadows twist in ways that defied logic.

You hated it down here. Even now, in your seventh year, walking this corridor alone made your heart thud against your ribs like it wanted you to turn back.

But you were desperate.

Snape looked up slowly when you stepped into his office without knocking, his quill pausing mid-sentence on the parchment. His expression went from mildly irritated to coldly displeased in an instant.

“Is knocking a forgotten concept these days?” he said dryly.

“Professor,” you began quickly, not even trying to hide the urgency in your voice. “I need to talk to you.”

Snape set down his quill, arching a single eyebrow. “Then I suggest you start talking, and make it quick.”

You swallowed. “It’s about Jisung… Park Jisung. He’s been missing for days, and no one seems to know anything. Or at least, they’re pretending they don’t.”

His gaze sharpened and for a second, you thought you saw a flicker of caution behind his eyes before he quickly masked it.

“I fail to see why you’re bringing this to me,” he said coolly, leaning back in his chair. “Missing students are a matter for the headmaster.”

“Don’t,” you snapped before you could stop yourself. Snape’s eyes narrowed dangerously, but you pressed forward anyway. “I overheard some students talking. They mentioned your name…said you found Jisung somewhere. Something happened to him, didn’t it?”

Snape’s eyes flashed briefly. “And you believe the idle gossip of students because…?”

“Jisung wouldn’t just disappear on his own like that. I know something happened to him,” you shot back, voice shaking. “And I believe you know exactly what.”

He watched you silently for a moment. You could feel him weighing something behind his guarded stare. Finally, he exhaled sharply.

“Miss Y/N,” he began slowly, voice heavy with thinly veiled warning, “there are things within these castle walls and beyond them that you are better off not knowing.”

“That’s not your choice to make,” you said immediately.

“On the contrary,” he replied calmly. “It is precisely my choice. And you will do well to remember that.”

Your fists clenched at your sides, frustration prickling hot behind your eyes. “Professor, please. Jisung’s my best friend. If he’s hurt… if something’s happened… I need to know.”

Something shifted in Snape’s expression at your words, almost looked like regret. When he spoke, his voice was almost gentle, which frightened you more than his scorn.

“Sometimes the worst harm you can do to someone is to keep prying.”

He paused, holding your gaze steadily. “Park is alive. That is all you need to know. Now leave.”

You stood frozen for a second, his words sinking in painfully. Jisung was alive—yet somehow, that felt worse. It meant something had happened… Something terrible.

Your jaw tightened. “You can’t keep this hidden forever,” you whispered fiercely.

He leaned forward, eyes piercing yours in the darkness of the room.

“We’ll see.”

You turned away, storming from his office without looking back. Snape hadn’t denied anything which meant there’d definitely been an incident and it was serious enough that Jisung couldn’t be seen right now. He was alive, but he was hurt, and whatever happened to him was being deliberately hidden.

A few days later

The day started like any other.

You pushed cold eggs across your plate, half listening to Renjun’s gentle attempts at conversation while the Great Hall hummed as if a student hadn’t been missing for a week. But suddenly, a hush rolled through the room.

You felt Renjun touch your arm.

“Y/N.”

You looked up, and followed his gaze toward the doors. The breath caught in your throat.

Jisung was standing just inside the oak doors.

He was bent at the shoulders, eyes flicking over the Hall as if he didn’t remember ever being there before. His robes hung wrinkled and loose and there were red scratches carved along his neck and cheek. He was paler than before and the shadows beneath his eyes made him look years older than when you’d last seen him.

Without greeting anyone, he drifted to the far end of the Hufflepuff table nowhere near his usual seat beside you.

You were on your feet before the thought finished forming.

Renjun caught your wrist. “Y/N, maybe wait—”

You shook him off and crossed the hall, every step echoing in the sudden quiet.

“Jisung?”

He flinched but kept his gaze on the empty plate. “Not now, Y/N.”

“You’ve been gone a week,” you whispered, voice trembling. “I was so worried—”

“I said not now.” The snap in his voice was sharp enough to cut. He glanced up and the terror in his eyes chilled you to the bone.

You reached for him, but he stood so abruptly your balance faltered. Without another word he strode the length of the hall and disappeared through the doors, leaving a silence that seemed to bend the rafters.

You stood frozen, heat flushing your face as dozens of eyes slid away. Renjun appeared at your elbow and talked softly. “Let him breathe.”

You nodded, though the emptiness in your chest insisted otherwise.

Jisung returned to lessons, but only in body. He answered professors in one‑word murmurs and offered classmates strained smiles that meant please don’t talk to me. At meals he sat alone, two yards of empty bench marking the space where laughter used to live.

He moved faster when he saw you in the corridors. He no longer waited outside classrooms or drifted toward your chair in the library. His robes hung loose as if he’d lost weight along with sleep, and his hands shook whenever he raised his wand. Sometimes you caught him staring through stone walls at something only he could see.

You tried with soft hellos in the common room, and owls folded with careful questions but every attempt slid off the wall he’d built overnight. The harder you reached, the farther he retreated, until all that remained between you was silence and the memory of how easily you’d once shared the same breath.

2 days later

Jisung sat on the edge of his bed, head buried in his shaking hands. His palms were marked with crescent-shaped indentations from how hard he was clenching his fists.

He kept hearing it.

The snap of branches in pitch-black darkness. The sickening crunch of claws sinking into damp earth. The guttural snarl vibrating through his bones moments before razor-sharp teeth pierced his shoulder. The thick warmth of blood soaking through his robes.

Sometimes it came to him in dreams. Other times, he’d be awake, in class, or walking down the corridor. A sound, or a smell and he was back in the forest.

Snape had said the wolfsbane would help and it had in a way. At least, it kept the full transformation at bay. But it didn’t stop the memories, it didn’t quiet the noise in his head.

His senses were too sharp now, every creak of the floorboards, every flicker of candlelight, every rustle of parchment felt louder. Sometimes he thought he could hear people’s heartbeats, smell their sweat before they entered a room. His insides constantly felt overwhelmed with unbearable energy. He felt trapped in his own skin, moments away from tearing free of himself. Sometimes he felt too much, and other times… he felt nothing at all.

Worst of all, though, was you.

He couldn't stand to be near you anymore. Not because he didn't want to, but because your scent now stirred something dangerous within him. It made his chest ache unbearably, tightened his throat with longing and thirst.

A part of him urged him to get far away from you. But another darker, more primal part whispered the opposite… to scent you, to sink into you, to lose control entirely. But he refused to drag you into his nightmare. He wouldn't allow it, no matter how much it tore at him.

He could remember most of what led him into the forest, up to a certain point.

He remembers Seungmin saying he wanted to hang out and they met near the edge of the Forbidden Forest, where one of the slytherins handed out something called shadeleaf. It was an iridescent petal folded into itself like a capsule. Illegal, of course. Banned by the ministry for its hallucinogenic properties and its tendency to react differently based on magical affinity.

Jisung didn't even know why he was there. This wasn’t his scene at all. The guys were drinking something out of a flask that smelled like burnt sugar and smoke. Jay was lighting up a rolled spell-scroll with charmed embers. Niki already looked half out of it, eyes glazed.

When Seungmin started showing an interest in him a few weeks ago, Jisung had been flattered. He'd only ever made two close friends at Hogwarts, so someone new noticing him felt good. That was the only reason he went along with him. He wanted to be accepted.

“Is it safe?” Jisung asked nervously.

“Come on, park,” Niki chuckled, placing a shimmering petal on his tongue. “Don’t be a Squib.”

“What's the worst that could happen?” Seungmin grinned, handing one to him. “You trip a bit? See some weird shit? Wake up with a headache?”

Jisung hesitated, staring at the thing in his palm. It pulsed faintly with a color he didn’t have a name for.

He didn't want to do it, but they were all watching him. So he took it.

The effects hit almost instantly. His vision went fuzzy first; he could only see edges warping and light bending at impossible angles. Then his tongue tingled and throbbed, and his body felt too hot.

“Shit, this is strong,” Jay laughed.

“It’s not that bad,” Seungmin said, puffing from the smoldering scroll between his fingers.

None of them looked as affected as Jisung.

"Come on, Park," Seungmin said, draping an arm casually yet firmly around Jisung’s shoulders. "There’s a spot a little deeper in. We hang out there all the time."

Jisung couldn’t hear properly anymore, everything sounded underwater. He followed anyway.

He couldn’t say how long they walked. It felt like hours, though in reality it was probably mere minutes before his knees gave out, sending him sprawling onto the cold forest floor. His head spun violently, vision fractured.

He tried to speak, to call out but his voice didn't work, the forest blurring darker and darker until only silence and blackness swallowed him whole. He didn’t know when they left him. Just that at some point, he was alone.

The last thing he remembers was seeing bright, yellow eyes and feeling immense pain…

He woke up choking on his own blood.

His body jerked violently, lungs burning as he struggled to take in air. He felt strong hands grip his shoulders, pulling him upright with urgency. Through blurry, half-open eyes, he caught the outline of a wand glowing faintly in the dark. He barely recognized the familiar cadence of Professor Snape’s voice echoing through the haze.

“Park… Can you hear me?” Snape’s voice was clipped, edged with tension he’d never heard before.

Jisung managed only a strangled groan. He couldn’t speak, his throat was raw, filled with the metallic tang of blood. Breathing felt impossible, each gasp shallow and painful, as if his lungs were full of lead. He felt wetness soaking through his clothes and pooling beneath him. He didn't know if it was sweat or blood. Probably both, his clouded mind whispered darkly.

He was certain of only one thing—he was going to die here.

“You’ve been attacked,” Snape explained urgently, casting quick charms that rippled warmly across Jisung’s battered body. “I need you to remain as still as possible while I attempt to slow the bleeding.”

The word attacked echoed faintly in Jisung’s mind. Attacked by what? His thoughts swirled sluggishly. He couldn’t focus enough to piece anything together.

Snape pressed a small vial to his lips. The Hufflepuff hesitated, eyes flickering up weakly, his question dying soundlessly on cracked lips.

Snape seemed to understand instantly. “It’s Wolfsbane.”

The word crashed over Jisung with crushing weight, his mind snapping painfully back to clarity. Wolfsbane. A potion for…

His stomach twisted violently, nausea gripping him as realization cut sharply through the fog in his mind.

He’d been attacked by a werewolf.

It felt impossible. He wanted to deny it, wanted to believe it was just some twisted nightmare brought on by the drugs he’d foolishly taken. But the pain burning through his shoulder and the dark, grim expression on Snape’s face all made denial impossible.

With trembling lips, Jisung allowed Snape to tip the bitter potion into his mouth, grimacing weakly as he forced himself to swallow it down. It tasted vile but he had no energy left to protest.

He collapsed back against the cold forest floor, limbs heavy, vision fading once more as Snape continued muttering charms, trying to keep him tethered to consciousness.

“Stay with me, Park,” Snape’s voice commanded, sharp but oddly comforting. “You’re not going to die tonight.”

But Jisung wasn’t sure he believed him.

The darkness rushed back in, heavy and thick, pulling him under again as Snape’s frantic movements blurred and faded away.

His memory is fuzzy from then on.

One moment he was lying in the dirt, blood soaking the ground beneath him. The next, he was being levitated through narrow hallways, his body wrapped in magic and warding charms.

The room was dark, except for a wandlight hovering near the ceiling. He was placed on a dusty mattress on the floor. His skin felt stiff with blood, every muscle felt like it had been peeled apart and sewn back together with barbed wire.

He recognized the Shrieking Shack from an article he’d read once about the most haunted places on Earth. That’s where they were right now.

The shack was colder than he imagined. This was the place they used to tell ghost stories about in the common room. The place kids dared each other to peek into on Hogsmeade weekends. It smelled like old wood and dust. Snape moved through it like he’d been here before—like this was routine.

He cast a dozen silent spells before even speaking. Layers of enchantments wrapped around the rotting floorboards, the shattered furniture, the warped windows.

“You must take this Wolfsbane every day,” Snape said curtly, setting a tray on the floor beside the creaking mattress. “Or I’ll force it down your throat.”

Jisung didn’t answer. Snape paused, studying him with that unreadable stare.

“You’ll stay here until the full moon passes,” he said. “You’ll say nothing when you return.”

Jisung blinked slowly, the weight of it sinking into his bones. ‘When you return… or If’.

Then Snape turned to go but he stopped in the doorway.

“You are not the first,” he said, voice low. “It will be painful but you’ll survive.”

And with that, he was gone.

The silence was the most unbearable part of being in the Shack. Not even the pain or the way Jisung’s bones ached like they were preparing to snap apart. It was the silence that made him feel like he’d go crazy any minute.

He tried to sleep, but whenever he tried he’d blink awake to phantom sensations of fur brushing his skin, fangs pushing against his teeth, and a sweet scent of honey curling through the cracks in the floorboards.

It wasn’t the full moon yet but his body was already responding to it. The Wolfsbane kept him from changing completely, but it didn’t stop everything. His skin itched as if it was being stretched and he realized he’d grown a few inches taller overnight. His eyes were also becoming sensitive to even the faintest flickers of light, and they were a dark shade of yellow that glowed whenever the moonlight hit them.

It might’ve been on the second night or the third, he couldn’t remember well, but Snape came in and told him that the full moon would be at its peak and he would feel the effects more despite the potion.

Jisung lasted about two hours before the pain began. It wasn’t sudden. It crept in slowly, like frostbite, numbing his fingers first. Then his wrists and his legs. He thought maybe this was it—maybe he’d just fade out before anything happened. Then it spread up his spine and into his skull, where it bloomed behind his eyes like fire.

The pain was so much bigger than his body. It burned and it shredded him, as if his bones were being broken and rebuilt at the same time, like his skin wasn’t big enough to hold him anymore. He scratched at his own arms until his nails cracked and bled. It got so unbearable he slammed his head against the wall hoping he would knock himself out but he couldn’t.

He clawed at the walls, tore at the floorboards and bit into the wood until his mouth filled with splinters and blood. He howled until his throat tore raw. And still, it didn’t stop

He lost count of how many times his limbs broke and reformed. His jaw cracked open so wide he thought it might dislocate, teeth pushing through bloody gums. He was sobbing or at least, he thought he was. It was hard to tell over the sound of his own growling.

The transformation stopped halfway and started again the next day. He never fully transformed but he felt the pain of his body trying to fight against it every single time.

He stopped counting days after that.

Hunger and exhaustion tangled with grief and fear until all that was left was the throb of his body and the steady hum of magic in his blood. He didn’t think about the pain anymore. Or the bite. Or Seungmin. Or the forest.

Mostly, he thought about you.

He tried not to, but you wouldn’t leave him. Your face, your laugh, your voice, it all circled him like the moonlight through the slats in the wall.

The way the thought of you made his body burn now.The way your honeyed scent used to be comforting but now made his lungs tighten and his mouth water. He didn’t understand why he was feeling this way.

On the seventh day he woke up soaked in sweat, shivering uncontrollably. The moon had passed. He could feel it in the way the ache in his bones was retreating and his mind was clearer.

Snape arrived at dawn.

He said nothing about the mess of blood and broken furniture in the room. He just studied Jisung who was sitting slumped against the wall. He pulled out his wand and started casting diagnostic spells over his body.

“You’ll return to class tomorrow,” he said. “If anyone asks, you were ill.”

Jisung didn’t move.

Snape continued impassively. “You are not to mention the Wolfsbane, the forest, or what you’ve become. Do you understand?”

Jisung finally looked at him, barely able to lift his head properly. “That’s it? Just… go back like nothing happened?” His voice came out hoarse.

Snape’s eyes narrowed faintly. “No. That is not it.”

He stepped closer.

“You will take your potion every cycle, no matter what. And you will not seek out the other boys involved, nor will you retaliate.”

Jisung’s jaw clenched. He wanted nothing more than to rip Seungmin’s throat apart, but he knew that was just the wolf thinking.

“And most importantly, you will stay away from her.” Snape said, his voice dropping at the last word.

Jisung sat up sharply, knowing exactly who he was referring to. “Why?”

The professor’s expression didn’t soften. “Because the wolf doesn’t care that she’s your friend. It doesn’t care about boundaries or guilt or decency. It responds to need.”

Jisung’s chest tightened, throat dry.

“The first few transformations are the worst,” Snape continued, pacing slowly now. “Your body hasn’t adjusted. Your instincts haven’t aligned with your mind. You will feel urges…violent, territorial, carnal urges that you can’t control. Those urges will turn into fixations... Especially for someone you already had feelings for”

“I don’t–” Jisung started.

“You don’t need to lie, Mr. Park.” Snape cut him off, “I am a very skilled Legilimens, you know? I can see your mind and I see how it’s filled with thoughts of her.”

Jisung looked away, jaw trembling slightly. Snape stopped in front of him.

“Her scent” he said quietly. “It already triggers you, doesn’t it?”

Jisung didn’t answer. That sweet scent of honey and parchment that he kept smelling through the rotting floors and the dried blood, he figured out it was you. It reminded him of that night at the Astronomy tower.The Shrieking Shack might be a few miles away from Hogwarts castle but he could still somehow smell you.

“You feel it in your chest, in your teeth, in your gut” Snape said, voice like a scalpel. “You want her.”

Jisung’s breathing picked up.

“That is the beginning of your rut.”

“Rut?” he repeated, barely above a whisper.

Snape nodded. “It’s a biological response. Wolves enter a heightened state after the full moon cycle. Some experience it more than others, especially younger ones who’ve recently turned”

Jisung’s heart was pounding now, nauseatingly fast.

“You may feel sudden impulses or worse you might want to act on those impulses.”

He felt sick. “I’m not— I would never hurt her.”

“I’m not concerned about your intentions,” Snape said coldly. “I’m concerned about your self control. A werewolf’s instincts are hard to resist and if you lose control, Mr. Park… She will pay the price.”

“So stay away from her,” Snape said with finality. “It’s the only way to keep you both safe.”

Jisung sat there shaking, the weight of what he’d become pressing down on his spine like a second body.

He couldn’t go back. Not like this.

“I’m not ready,” he said hoarsely.

Snape didn’t turn. He stood by the window, watching the last of the night dissolve into grey morning.

“You won’t ever be,” he said simply.

Jisung clenched his jaw. “I don’t want to see her. Or anyone. I—I can’t trust myself.”

“You must learn to live with your current situation.”

“Why can’t I just… stay here?”

Snape turned at that. His eyes were cold and calculating.

“Because people are already asking questions,” he said. “Students, staff. Your friend.”

Jisung’s heart stuttered at that.

“She’s worried,” Snape continued. “Rightfully so. You disappeared without warning. She’s been to my office several times. She’s even confronted the student who got you into this predicament, pulled out a wand at him. I don’t know how much longer I can keep her from endangering herself trying to find you.”

Jisung lowered his head, guilt flooding every nerve.

“Rumors are spreading, too.” Snape added. “A few students are saying they saw you with Mr. Lee that night. Some think you were injured, others that you’re in trouble. You’ve already been gone too long.”

Jisung swallowed hard. “So I just walk into the Great Hall acting like I’m normal?”

Snape didn’t blink. “Yes.”

His stomach turned. “And if someone sees the scars?”

“You’ll say you had an accident in the forest.”

“And you’ll back me up?” he asked bitterly.

“If I must.”

Jisung exhaled shakily. “And Y/N? We—we’re always together, she’ll find it weird if I suddenly cut her off”

“You’ll keep your distance regardless. If she asks questions, you deflect. If she pushes, you walk away. You’re not safe around her”

He bit his lip hard, so hard it almost bled. “She’ll know something’s wrong.”

“Then hope she’s smart enough not to get too close.”

The doors to the Great Hall had never felt so heavy. Jisung stood in front of them for nearly five minutes, staring at the carved wood. Behind them, he heard laughter, casual conversation, normalcy.

He wasn’t ready.

But Snape’s words echoed in his skull.

"You’ve already been gone too long."

He took a breath and pushed them open.

All the noise overcame him like a wave, the plates clinking, voices overlapping, owls fluttering through the rafters. It all felt loud in a way it hadn’t before, as if someone had turned the world’s volume up just to punish him.

He kept his head low and his pace steady. One foot in front of the other. Just like Snape said. Act like nothing happened.

He could feel all eyes on him almost instantly. First years stopping mid-bite and a few seventh-years whispering across the Gryffindor table. Someone, he thought maybe Jay, froze with a goblet halfway to his lips.

And then you. He didn’t have to loo, he felt the second your eyes landed on him, making something twist deep in his chest. That same unbearable tightness he’d felt in the shack whenever he let himself think about you. About your laugh echoing across the common room. About your fingers brushing his when you passed him a quill and how it used to mean nothing, and now it meant everything.

He knew you’d notice the hollow look in his eyes, the bruises blooming like violets on his neck and the bandage peeking out from beneath the collar of his robes. You’d find it weird that he didn’t sit near you, didn’t even glance your way. But he tried to ignore those thoughts and just focus on the plate in front of him even though his stomach turned at the smell of food.

You stared at him from your seat. It took you several long, painful seconds to process what you were seeing.

Jisung—your best friend, who’d been missing a week without a word—just walked into breakfast looking like he’d seen hell and barely made it back out.

His robes were loose like he’d lost weight and his eyes were ringed with dark circles, exhaustion written clearly in every line of his face. There were cuts visible, thin red marks down his jaw, a deeper scar stretching beneath his collar, fading bruises on the backs of his hands. His hair was tangled, his posture painfully tense.

You felt a sick sense of relief after seeing him, despite his appearance. But most of all you felt angry. You felt everything all at once, a hot rush of emotions almost too intense to handle.

Jisung avoided your gaze completely. He picked at the food in front of him, not really eating, just pushing it around his plate.

He felt you approaching before you spoke. Your scent hit him first, warm and familiar, yet unbearably intense. His jaw clenched tight, fingers curling into fists beneath the table. He didn’t look up even when you stood near him. He simply couldn’t trust himself to see your face and not fall apart.

You called his name quietly and he almost cried at the sound of your voice. But he didn’t move, not even when you stepped closer.

Slowly, he raised his head, gaze finally meeting yours You went still, eyes widening just slightly. He knew instantly what you saw—the darkness in his stare, the shadowed bruises, the fresh scars. The way he looked wrong.

He couldn’t bear your pained eyes, so he snapped at you. Something he’d never do before, but Snape told him to deflect. So he yelled and walked away, trying to ignore how hurt you looked.

This was what Snape meant. You’re not safe around her.

You couldn’t eat after that. Not with the way he’d looked at you.

Jisung had always been soft-spoken, a little awkward, a little shy—but never cold. And you didn’t need a Healer to tell you that whatever he’d gone through wasn’t some stomach bug or routine cold. You weren’t stupid.

You saw the tremble in his fingers when he reached for his fork. You saw the way he flinched when someone behind him dropped their goblet. You saw the bruises just under his collar and the bandages.

Something happened to him.

You sat back down but your heart was still up at the other end of the table with him.

“I need to know,” you murmured, more to yourself than to Renjun.

He sighed. “Y/N…”

“Don’t say it,” you snapped quietly. “Don’t say I should give him time. Don’t say he’ll come around. I know him, Renjun. He’s scared. You don’t just disappear for a week and come back with claw marks on you neck.”

Renjun went quiet.

That silence told you more than anything else.

“Okay, I’m tired of this… You know something, don’t you?”

He avoided your gaze. “It’s not my place to say.”

That hurt. “Is it mine to not know?”

You stood abruptly, grabbing your bag. “If no one’s going to tell me the truth, I’ll figure it out myself.”

Over the next few days, you tried to get close to Jisung in every way you could think of. You waited for him outside the greenhouses after Herbology, hoping to catch him alone. You switched seats in Charms just to be nearer, and sometimes you even loitered in the corridor after Potions, telling yourself you’d walk him back to the common room.

Despite your best efforts, he continually slipped away.

He offered awkward excuses about having somewhere to be, or sometimes said nothing at all and just walked past. Most of the time, he barely managed to look at you, as if doing so caused him physical pain. This wasn’t an icy kind of avoidance, nor was it tinged with anger. It felt worse than either of those possibilities—it was as though he found everything about you unbearable, but still couldn’t muster the energy to explain why.

Once, you nearly cornered him after lunch. He was leaning against the corridor wall outside the Great Hall, head tipped back, looking utterly exhausted. In that unguarded moment, your eyes met his, and you thought you glimpsed your old friend beneath the tension he carried. Summoning the nerve you’d been collecting all day, you stepped forward.

“Can we talk?” you asked softly.

For a split second, it seemed like he might say yes. His mouth opened as though he wanted to form the words but then Professor Snape’s voice echoed from behind you.

“Miss Y/N.”

You turned around to find Snape standing there, unruffled as always, robes hanging in sharp lines. He inclined his head in an almost polite manner yet still carried the weight of an order.

“I need you to come to the dungeons,” he said in a measured tone. “There are ingredients that require sorting. I trust your handwriting is still legible.”

You tried to protest, but as soon as you turned back, Jisung had vanished. From that moment on, it became a pattern: every time you got too close to him, Snape appeared with some new task for you—an extended office hour to discuss a mistake in an essay, a request to reorganize outdated potions, or a perfectly timed interruption just as you were about to speak with Jisung privately.

On a rational level, you knew it was ridiculous to think Snape was orchestrating this on purpose; however, it was impossible to ignore how consistently he managed to swoop in whenever you finally had a chance to approach Jisung alone. You didn’t know why your professor was so intent on calling you away, and truthfully it wasn’t the main issue gripping your mind.

All you could focus on was Jisung.

He looked so different—worn down, scared, ashamed, like he was carrying a secret that weighed on his shoulders every moment of the day. Every time you tried to reach him, he withdrew further. It broke your heart, because you weren’t trying to fix him or make him talk if he didn’t want to. You just wanted to be there, to stand by him instead of watching from a distance.

Yet no matter how hard you tried, the boy who used to seek you out for study breaks and late-night jokes now seemed determined to avoid you. And the more distance he forced, the more you wanted to find out what had really happened, because this Jisung—the one who flinched when you spoke and looked away when you caught his eye—felt like a stranger wearing your best friend’s face.

It was late, far too late for anyone else to be out of bed. So when you heard commotion up in the Astronomy Tower during one of your prefect rounds, you instinctively climbed the stairs to inspect, your wand held loosely in your fingertips.

The castle had felt too quiet lately. Ever since Jisung came back, everything had been off balance. You’d even taken extra patrols just to keep your mind busy. You weren’t expecting to find anything up there except maybe a few rowdy owls.

But when you pushed open the heavy wooden door to the Astronomy Tower, you froze at the sight.

Jisung was there, hunched against the railing, his robes half-open, hands gripping the stone balustrade so tightly you saw his knuckles pale even from across the room.

"Jisung?" you said softly, hesitant.

His head snapped up instantly, and your breath caught in your throat.

His eyes were wild, pupils blown wide, irises shimmering unnaturally gold beneath the moonlight. Sweat gleamed across his pale forehead, his hair was messy and damp, sticking to his face. His breathing came harsh and fast, almost feral.

You took a cautious step forward. "Jisung, are you okay?"

"Stay back," he choked out, voice strained and rough. "Don't come closer."

But you saw the tremble in his arms, the feverish brightness in his eyes. He looked sick. He looked scared.

"What’s wrong? Let me help—"

"No." He shook his head violently, squeezing his eyes shut as if fighting himself. "You can't—I'm not—"

He trailed off, stumbling forward as if pulled by some invisible force toward you. He was breathing heavily, lips parted as he seemed to taste the air between you.

"Jisung—"

Your voice cut off as his gaze snapped sharply to yours again, something raw and dangerous flaring in his eyes. It sent a shiver racing down your spine, and you instinctively backed away half a step.

"Leave," he hissed, the word barely recognizable through his clenched teeth. His whole body seemed rigid with tension. "Please, leave before—"

He broke off with a gasp, doubling over as though a wave of pain had just wracked through him.

You rushed forward instinctively, panic clouding your caution. "Jisung!"

He moved faster than your eyes could track. One moment he was curled into himself and the next he had you pinned against the cold stone floor, wrists pressed tightly beside your head, his face inches from yours, breath hot and erratic against your neck.

"Ji—" Your voice cracked. "What are you—"

He inhaled deeply against your throat, his body trembling against yours. "God, you smell so—" His voice was ragged and broken, almost a sob. "I can't—I can't stop it, I—"

He pressed closer instinctively, hips pinning you hard against the floor. His lips grazed roughly against your neck, sharp teeth skimming dangerously along your pulse point. Your heart slammed against your ribs, fear tangled confusingly with something hot in your lower belly.

"Jisung, please," you whispered, half plea, half gasp. "You're scaring me."

Those words seemed to pierce through whatever haze had overtaken him. He jerked back, eyes wide, suddenly horrified at himself. His gaze flicked down to your wrists, already bruising beneath his grip, and he stumbled away as if burned.

"No," he whispered, horror and guilt bleeding openly into his expression. "I didn't—I wouldn't—"

You stayed frozen on the floor, chest heaving as you watched the agony twist across his face.

"What’s happening to you?" you breathed, sitting up slowly.

He stared at you, anguished, hands still trembling at his sides.

"I'm sorry," he whispered brokenly. "I—I'm so sorry."

Before you could say another word, he turned sharply and bolted down the stairs, leaving you alone, shaking, and terrified.

The Hufflepuff common room was quiet when you walked in. Most students had gone to bed, but Renjun sat alone on the couch.

You didn’t give him a chance to pretend he didn’t see you coming.

“You’re going to tell me what happened.”

Renjun sighed, not looking away from the fire. “Y/N…”

“No,” you said, standing in front of him. “No more deflecting. You’ve known something since the day he came back.”

He rubbed his hands over his face. “I don’t know the whole story.”

“Then tell me what you know.”

Silence.

You crossed your arms. “Do you really think I’m going to stop asking? You’ve seen him. You know he’s not okay. And no one’s saying anything, and I’m losing my mind because—” your voice cracked, just slightly— “because that’s my best friend.”

Renjun’s shoulders slumped. He looked like he aged ten years in a second.

“Seungmin and his friends... they planned something,” he said quietly.

Your chest went still.

“I only heard a conversation between Professor Sprout and Professor Snape,” he continued. “But apparently they were hanging out near the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Seungmin gave Jisung something. A potion or… some kind of enchanted hallucinogen.”

Renjun looked up at you, guilt heavy in his eyes even though he hadn’t been there. “They led him into the forest, Y/N… And something attacked him.”

You stared at him, voice thick with dread. “Something?”

Renjun hesitated. “Snape... Snape was the one who found him.”

You felt cold all over. “What was it?”

He looked away.

“Renjun. What was it.”

His voice dropped to a whisper.

“A werewolf.”

A gasp got stuck in your throat.

“I don’t know how bad it was,” Renjun said softly. “But apparently Professor Snape had to lock him up for a week while he went through the transformation.”

Tears stung behind your eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t want to believe it myself….”

You sank into the chair across from him, everything too heavy to stand.

“A werewolf,” you whispered.

He nodded and suddenly, so many things clicked at once. Suddenly it all made sense.

After Renjun told you, you couldn’t sleep.

You sat in your bed staring at the ceiling until the sun started bleeding through the windows, and then you slipped out of the dorms without a word. You went straight to the library and stayed there all morning.

Madam Pince gave you a curious glance when you asked to go into the Restricted Section after looking through every other possible book in the regular shelves and finding nothing of value. You dropped Professor Babbling’s name as your excuse—said you were doing independent research for an Arithmancy paper. She didn’t ask further, just handed you a list of approved titles and waved you through.

You didn’t touch a single one of them. Instead, you searched for everything you could find on werewolves.

They were mostly old, dusty books with creaking spines and brittle pages. Most seemed to be more folklore than facts but you found a text buried near the bottom of a shelf, half its title burned off the spine.

Lycanthropy and Lunar Madness: A Clinical Compendium.

The chapters were brutal. You read about the first changes, the muscle pain, the sensory overload. The way magic in the blood would flare, fight back, burn from the inside out. You read about the violence, how the mind slips away when the full moon peaks, how instincts override everything else.

But what caught your atention the most was this:

“In cases of recent infection, the afflicted may experience an attraction fixation, often triggered by proximity to a familiar person. This response is especially common in individuals whose first transformation occurs during adolescence or early adulthood.

The instinct is not always sexual, but it is always possessive. The werewolf’s senses recognize the person as a source of comfort or danger. When comfort, the fixation can lead to obsessive behavior, rut-like symptoms, and irrational aggression if the person is perceived as threatened or unattainable. When danger, it can lead to avoidance or attack. Scent is the most common anchor. Once imprinted, it is nearly impossible for the werewolf to ignore.”

Your throat tightened. You re-read the paragraph five times.

It made sense, too much sense. His distance, his flinching, the way he couldn’t look at you anymore.

Your scent.

You remembered how he looked at you that morning in the Great Hall. How he barely breathed when you stood too close and how he wouldn’t meet your eyes when you asked what happened. And last night in the Atronomy Tower, he said you smelled good and it looked like he wanted to eat you alive.

You closed the book with shaky hands and then checked out four more. You didn’t stop reading until your eyes blurred. You didn’t eat or go to class.

By the time the sky outside the window started darkening, you were sitting at a corner table, surrounded by open tomes and loose parchment covered in frantic notes—everything you could find about Wolfsbane, Snape’s potion-making reputation, the legal status of werewolves in magical Britain, and every known case of student infection in the last fifty years.

You turned the page again.

Magical Intervention

“Wolfsbane Potion, taken daily during the week of the full moon, prevents transformation but does not erase the instinctual response. It is crucial that young werewolves are supervised during their first year of turning, especially if they experience early signs of rut.

If left unmonitored, the werewolf may become a threat not only to others—but to themselves.”

You found another book next. Not on lycanthropy, but on magical trauma. It mentioned Professor Snape by name.

“A known expert in dark creatures and cursed bloodlines, Professor Severus Snape has played a role in the treatment and monitoring of several underage werewolf cases, particularly after the war.”

You sat there for a long time, staring at the page, your mind buzzing. Snape knew, he was involved and he wasn’t just keeping the secret, he was managing it.

Which meant whatever happened to Jisung—Snape had seen it before. And he’d chosen not to tell you a thing.

You sat there in silence, your hands numb on the table. Snape had told him to stay away from you, that much was obvious now. But no one had told you what being near him could do.

You weren’t afraid of him. But for the first time, you understood why he was of you.

You left the library as the sky was starting to pale with early morning light, the forbidden books still echoing in your thoughts. You didn’t bother going to class again. You went directly to Snape’s office instead and waited there. When he finally arrived, he paused mid-step at the sight of you.

“Miss Y/N,” he said flatly. “You are not scheduled to meet with me.”

“No,” you said, stepping forward. “But I’m not leaving until you tell me the truth, sir.”

His eyes narrowed. “I beg your par—”

“Did you know?” you cut in, voice trembling with restrained rage. “Did you know what would happen to him?”

“I’m not sure what you’re referring to.”

“I know that Jisung got attacked by a werewolf.”

Snape stilled.

“I went to the restricted section,” you continued. “I know what werewolves go through. I know about the rut cycle. The way someone can trigger it just by being close… Did you know it would be me?”

He didn’t speak, and that silence was an answer.

You took another step toward him. “You told him to stay away, didn’t you?”

Still silent.

You laughed bitterly. “What, were you going to wait until I ended up on the courtyard floor with his teeth in my neck before you decided to warn me?”

“Lower your voice,” Snape said sharply, eyes flicking toward the empty corridor.

“No,” you snapped. “You don’t get to tell me what to do now when you left me in the dark about everything.”

“He is alive and you’re safe because of me,” he said sharply. “Do not mistake silence for neglect.”

“He’s barely alive,” you fired back. “He’s walking around like a ghost and you expect me to believe that’s your idea of help?”

“You think you want the truth but the truth is messy and dangerous. And the truth, Miss Y/N…” he stalked closer to you, almost menacingly “… is that your friend is not who he was anymore.”

“I know that!” you shouted, voice cracking. “But you made him think he was dangerous.”

“He is.”

“No,” you said fiercely. “He’s just scared and you’re feeding it.”

Snape’s eyes narrowed. “You have no idea what a werewolf in rut is capable of.”

“I do now.” You stepped closer again, voice trembling. “I’m not stupid or fragile. And I’m not going to stay away just because you think it’s better that way.”

“Miss Y/N—”

“No,” you snapped. “You can’t “protect me” by locking him away like some creature. He’s not a danger to me. What’s dangerous is isolating him, making him ashamed of something he didn’t choose.”

Snape’s mouth pressed into a thin line.

“And what will you do, then?” he asked. “If he loses control?”

“I’ll help him.” You exhaled, hands trembling. “I’m not afraid of him and he needs someone who isn’t.”

There was a long pause. Snape looked at you with something like pitty. Then he spoke, carefully.

“Then you’d better learn how to handle what’s coming.”

Knowing about Jisung’s condition didn’t bring the relief you thought it would. If anything, it made everything worse. Because now you understood that there was almost nothing you could do to save him from himself. And, like Professor Snape said, the safest option was to stay far away.

And you tried, but it was so hard.

You'd find yourself turning to complain about Professor Binns's endless lectures, only to realize it wasn't Jisung beside you, but Renjun—quiet, studious Renjun who never dared utter a complaint in class.

Or when you walked toward the kitchens out of habit, thinking maybe you'd sweet-talk the elves into some pumpkin tarts, only to remember it was Jisung who always did the charming.

Or when the night sky looked especially clear and you found yourself wanting to stargaze but realizing no one else knew how to trace constellations on your palm with their fingertip. And you couldn’t even remember their names without Jisung pointing them out to you.

Renjun tried. He filled the empty seat at meals, nodded at the right moments when you rambled, even agreed to sneak out once or twice. But he wasn’t Jisung. He didn’t know your weird inside jokes, didn’t lean his head on your shoulder when he got sleepy, didn’t touch your wrist when you got nervous.

You missed him so deeply it ached.

So, when you saw him slipping out of the common room one night you followed him without a second thought.

He moved quickly across the grounds, his hooded shape skimming the moonlit grass. You jogged to keep up, keeping low behind hedges and statues until he stopped beside the Whomping Willow. Your breath caught as he pressed a knot at the roots and the tree froze mid‑sway, its branches locking in eerie stillness. Then, an entrance yawned open.

You hesitated. Every instinct screamed that going after him was a terrible idea. But the thought of him hurting or worse, hurting alone was too much to bear.

So you followed.

The tunnel led you into the Shrieking Shack. A chill raced down your spine the moment you stepped inside. Rot and mildew clung to the walls, the floorboards seemed like they would give way with each step, and it smelled like old nightmares in there. You had to bite down on your lip to keep from gagging but you kept going, following the sounds of his ragged breathing upstairs into a dusty room.

You opened the door cautiously, barely an inch—but before you could fully register what was happening, Jisung lunged. He grabbed your arm, yanking you roughly inside and pinning you to the sagging mattress with a strength that startled you.

"Jisung—!" you gasped.

He loomed over you, eyes wild, glowing gold in the darkness. His expression was pained, almost feral.

"What—are you doing here?" he growled through gritted teeth. His voice was deep and barely recognizable.

You stared up at him, wide-eyed. “I—I was worried. You missed all your classes…”

Something dark flared in his gaze, and he dropped his head, panting harshly against your throat. He inhaled deeply, shuddering as he pressed closer instinctively. Your breath hitched sharply, your body reacting involuntarily to his closeness.

"You shouldn't have come," he whispered brokenly, hands trembling where they gripped your wrists.

You swallowed, feeling his hips press involuntarily against yours and realizing exactly what was happening.

"Your rut," you whispered breathlessly, realization flooding you. "It's started, hasn't it?"

A helpless whimper slid from his throat as his hips rocked against you once more, his erection pressing unmistakably through his trousers. The desperate sound he made sent heat pooling in your stomach, despite the fear and confusion swirling inside you.

“You smell so fucking… good” He let out another ragged noise, and you reached out instinctively, resting a trembling hand against his cheek. His skin burned under your palm. He looked almost delirious, golden eyes flickering between human fear and something more feral.

You’d spent the past week reading about werewolves and their ruts, absorbing every detail you could from hidden texts and restricted tomes. You knew that once the rut hit, the urge for physical intimacy would become nearly unbearable. You also knew it was dangerous for you to be near him like this.

But as you stared at your best friend, trembling and half-broken with need, your heart clenched. You couldn’t just walk away.

“Jisung,” you said carefully, your voice shaking. “Did you take the Wolfsbane?”

He shook his head, eyes squeezing shut. “I don’t know… I think I didn’t—” He broke off, a pained groan tearing from his throat as he rocked forward, hips searching for contact.

Swallowing hard, you remembered the passage in the book. How an afflicted werewolf needed a trusted partner to help ease the rut’s consuming effects.

It felt like your heart was in your mouth.

“You—” he gasped, voice faint. “You can’t stay. I—if I hurt you—”

You cupped his other cheek, forcing his gaze to meet yours. “You won’t,” you promised, though a part of you wasn’t entirely sure.

“Y/N,” he groaned, hips rutting forward again. “Don’t. Don’t touch me right now, I swear—”

“I want to help you,” you said softly. “Please let me.”

His pupils dilated immediately and he let out a shaky breath, leaning into your touch. The heat radiating from him was overwhelming but despite your own hammering pulse, you didn’t draw away.

Because somewhere deep inside, you knew this was the only way to help him.

His grip on your waist was bruising, claws just barely retracted. His body was sweat-slicked and trembling, panting through gritted teeth as he pressed himself flush against you.

“I warned you,” he growled, voice shaky with restraint. “I told you to leave.”

You pulled him closer up and felt how he shook under your touch. “You can have me”

He didn’t wait another second. Your clothes were suddenly nothing, the fabric ripped under his desperate hands. Your skin was bare before you had time to register the sound of seams tearing. His mouth found your throat instinctively, tongue tasting your pulse before he bit.

You winced at the pain and his hips rutted against your thigh, hard and frantic, his cock felt thick and straining through his trousers. He was whining soft, broken sounds between gritted teeth, like each second without you wrapped around him was tearing him open from the inside.

“You smell—fuck, you smell so good,” he gasped into your skin, humping against you harder. “I need—i need to be inside, I need—”

You spread your legs, breathless, head spinning from the force of it all. “I’m here, Sungie.”

He didn’t prep you, didn’t pause for a second—just spit on his fingers and shoved them inside you hard and fast. Stretching you wide while whispering obscenities you couldn’t even make sense of.

“So fucking tight—fuck—gonna ruin you—fill you up, knot you, make sure no one else ever gets to—”

You didn’t even realize he’d taken his cock out until you felt him line himself up with shaking hands, barely getting the tip in before he snapped his hips forward, burying himself inside you in one brutal thrust.

You cried out and Jisung growled, slamming his hand beside your head, forehead pressed to yours, golden eyes glazed over.

“Mine,” he gasped. “Fuck… Mine. Mine. Mine—”

Suddenly, he shoved your knees up, pressing them tightly to your chest as his hips snapped forward, rough and desperate. You cried out sharply, feeling stretched too wide, overwhelmed by the rawness of him filling you again and again. His teeth dragged harshly against your throat, marking you repeatedly, as if he couldn't bear the thought of anyone mistaking you for anything but his.

You sobbed beneath him, your body caught between pain and a pleasure that blurred into something unbearable. Part of you wondered numbly if it would have changed anything if you'd told Jisung it was your first time—if it would've made him pause, slow down, be gentler. But you knew it wouldn't have mattered. He wasn't fully himself, and even if some part of him wanted to stop, he couldn't.

You felt it then, the swelling at his base. His knot beginning to expand, stretching your entrance wider with every punishing thrust. Panic mixed with need, your mind spinning as your walls spasmed around him.

“Gonna knot you,” he panted desperately, voice breaking as he slammed into you harder. “Can’t stop—fuck, you feel so perfect—gonna keep you like this forever—”

He thrust deeply one last time and locked himself inside, his knot catching and sealing him within you. You screamed, body jolting at the sudden fullness, the pressure almost too much. He shuddered violently above you, his cum flooding hot and deep, twitching through aftershocks that made your thighs quake and your vision blur.

You barely had time to gasp a breath before his knot began to soften, still pulsing faintly inside you. But Jisung didn’t stop, not even for a moment.

Before you could recover, he flipped you roughly onto your stomach, the mattress creaking sharply beneath you. He pressed into you again slowly, his breathing ragged and hot against your sweat-damp back. You trembled uncontrollably beneath him, arms shaking, barely able to keep yourself upright.

“Jisung, wait—” your voice broke, a thin plea lost beneath the rasp of his breath.

But he didn’t acknowledge your begging. One hand pinned your hip firmly, the other flattened between your shoulders, forcing you down into the sheets until you couldn’t move. You felt the ache building again as he pushed inside you once more, pushing mercilessly against your walls. Your thighs burned, your body instinctively arching to escape the overstimulation, but he wouldn’t allow you to shift away.

The moment he felt how wet and open you still were, the last shred of his restraint shattered. His rhythm turned frantic, his hips slamming into yours so fiercely the air was knocked from your lungs with every brutal stroke.

You moaned helplessly into the sheets, fingers clawing at the mattress as your body surrendered. He wasn’t speaking now, wasn’t asking if you were okay—all you heard were harsh, ragged sounds torn from his throat, desperate noises so primal and raw they made your skin burn hot with shameful need.

His movements grew rougher, your bodies locked in a rhythm that erased any remaining thought from your mind. Your senses narrowed until all you knew was the brutal heat between your thighs and the ache of him stretching you. You took every thrust, helpless to stop, unable to do anything but accept the ruthless force of his body on yours.

His teeth bit sharply into the back of your shoulder, fangs scraping against your skin until you gasped in pain. His grip tightened, fingers bruising your hips as he pounded into you without mercy, branding you with every brutal snap of his hips.

With one final thrust, he buried himself impossibly deep, and you felt the knot swell again—filling you, stretching you beyond limits as he locked himself inside with a guttural growl.

His whole body jerked, cock throbbing violently as he spilled into you again. It was so much cum it leaked around the thick swell of his knot, your walls clenching tight, helpless to hold it all in. He held still, panting, hands trembling as he stayed buried in you, locked and pulsing.

He stayed inside you for what felt like forever, body trembling from release, your muscles fluttering weakly around him. His breath came in uneven bursts against your skin.

But even then, you could feel that he wasn’t finished.

He rutted again and let out a feral sound low in his throat, one that sounded more like a growl than a moan. And then he was moving just enough to slip free with a wet sound that made both of you shiver.

His hands moved to your waist, lifting you. He dragged you onto your back again, spread your thighs wide, and settled between them with a single-minded hunger that made your whole body pulse with anticipation.

His gaze dropped the moment he pushed back in and he groaned, eyes locked between your legs with an obsessive intensity. Your walls clenched around him as his cock slid in with zero resistance. His breath hitched, and he stopped for just a second.

His mouth parted when he saw the shape of him pushing inside you, deep enough to press against your belly, the bulge rising with every brutal thrust. He pressed his palm against it and let out a wrecked moan. The sight of his cock inside your belly driving him halfway mad.

“Fuck,” he choked. “That's me? inside you?”

You tried to answer, but all that came out was a gasp as he rocked into you harder.

He watched your stomach move with every stroke, how your cunt took all of him, again and again, walls fluttering around his cock like your body was desperate to keep him.

He was mesmerized. Staring with wide, hungry eyes as hips snapped forward with more force. One of his hands grabbed your thigh, the other pressing to your lower belly as he kept thrusting, rougher this time, watching the bulge disappear and return with every movement.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “you’re made for this—fuck—you’re made to take me like this—”

You could feel the knot swelling again, dragging harder against your soaked, overstretched entrance, until your legs started to shake. He braced both hands on either side of your hips, growled deep in his chest, and slammed forward. The knot forced its way in with a brutal stretch that made your eyes roll back.

His whole body jerked, head falling forward as a strangled moan left his lips. His cock twitched violently, knot fully buried, and you felt the rush of his cum flooding you again, deeper this time, deeper than anything had ever been.

His eyes were still locked on your lower stomach, wide and blown out with awe. The bulge in your belly pulsed with each twitch of his knot, round and taut with the sheer amount he’d pumped into you

“Look at that,” he whispered, almost dazed. “Look what I did to you.”

He reached out again, fingertips brushing against your stomach and the possessiveness in his voice made your body clench all over again.

“I'm inside you.”

He blinked, his eyes flickering to your face as he really looked at you for the first time.

You were trembling, bruised, and barely able to keep your legs from shaking. Your eyes were glassy, your body completely spent beneath him. And something in him seemed to return.

His hands gentled against your skin as he eased out of you slowly, knot slipping free with an aching stretch that made you whimper. You gasped at the sudden emptiness, but he didn’t leave you long. He kissed your thigh once, softly, as if in apology, and then lowered himself between your legs.

You barely had the strength to lift your head. “Ji—what are you doing…”

But he didn’t answer. Just held your thighs gently in his hands, spreading them open again but this time with reverence, not greed.

Then he licked a single, languid drag of his tongue that made your hips twitch weakly. He groaned low in his throat at the taste of you.

You whimpered, the oversensitivity almost unbearable but his hands kept you grounded. Thumbs rubbing soothing circles into your hips, mouth moving with an aching kind of care. He sucked gently at your clit, tongue flicking in slow passes, easing the pain into something warmer.

You threaded trembling fingers through his hair, tugging gently.

His mouth grew more desperate by the second, tongue dipping lower and teasing at your entrance where his cum was still leaking out. He groaned at the taste, sucking softly, messy and slow, like he couldn’t get enough of it. Of you.

He buried himself there with his nose pressed into your skin, mouth drinking you. You let out a soft cry, hips twitching against his face, and his grip tightened just enough to hold you still as he circled your clit again, tender but insistent.

“I need to make it better,” he murmured into your skin, voice hoarse and reverent. “Let me—please…”

You didn’t answer but the way your legs shook around his head told him everything. So he stayed there—worshipping the mess he made, tongue moving slow and devoted, lips soft and endless. He lost himself in you.

The first thing you noticed when you woke up was the pain.

It was deep and dull at first, but the moment you shifted, it sharpened—radiating through your thighs, your lower back, your hips. Your skin felt hot, stretched too thin in some places, sore in others. You winced as you tried to sit up, limbs trembling slightly from the effort.

Jisung was already awake. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, facing away from you, his robes wrapped tightly around him. His shoulders were stiff.

You swallowed through the dryness in your throat. “Ji?”

He stood up without looking at you.

You watched him move across the room, hands twitching at his sides like he didn’t know what to do with them. He picked up your clothes from the floor—torn in multiple places, seams ripped from how desperately he’d removed them the night before—and with a flick of his wand, the fabric mended itself slowly in the air.

“Get dressed,” he said flatly. “I’ll help you get back to the hospital wing.”

You blinked. “Back to the—what?”

He turned then, just slightly, just enough to look at you briefly. His eyes were guilt-ridden.

“You’re hurt,” he said. “I can see it.”

Your mouth opened, but no words came out.

“And I’m going to Snape later,” he continued. “I’m going to ask him to relocate me during the next cycle. Somewhere far from here.”

You stared at him, stunned. “Jisung, you don’t have to—”

“I do,” he snapped. “Because this—” He gestured toward you, his voice colder now. “This shouldn’t have happened.”

Your heart twisted.

“I told you to stay away,” he said. “And I didn’t mean that to sound cruel. I meant it because I knew I’d lose control. And I did… and now look at you.”

He walked toward the cracked mirror, stopped a few feet in front of it, and gestured for you to come closer.

You hesitated.

“Please,” he said, quieter now. “Just… come here.”

You stood slowly, legs shaking slightly under your weight. You wrapped yourself in the blanket and stepped toward the mirror.

Your reflection made your breath hitch.

There were bruises on your neck, angry bite marks along your collarbone and shoulder. Finger-shaped welts on your hips and thighs. Your lips were still swollen from where he’d kissed you too hard. Some of the marks looked deep. Others looked like they might last days, if not longer.

“I didn’t know I was capable of this,” Jisung said behind you, voice cracking.

You looked at him through the mirror. His face was pale, jaw tight.

“I’d rather suffer the worst pain a rut could ever give me than ever touch you like that again.”

“Jisung—”

“No,” he cut you off. “You don’t understand. I didn’t even care if I was hurting you. I couldn’t think. You could’ve cried, begged, screamed, and I still would’ve—”

He stopped himself, breathing hard.

“I’m not going to let this happen again. I’ll talk to Snape. I’ll take whatever dose he gives me. I’ll lock myself somewhere no one can find me.”

You stepped forward, reaching for him, but he flinched when your fingers brushed his sleeve.

He turned his face away. “Get dressed,” he said quietly. “Please.”

There was nothing else to say.

He handed you your clothes without looking at you again. When you were dressed, he silently moved to support your weight down the stairs and back toward the tunnel beneath the Whomping Willow.

Your legs ached with every step. Jisung’s arm was around your waist, holding you upright as you moved slowly down the path back to the castle, your freshly repaired clothes felt stiff and uncomfortable against your bruised skin.

You hadn’t said a word since leaving the Shrieking Shack. Neither had he.

His touch wasn’t warm, or comforting. It was careful and detached. Like he was holding you not out of care, but out of obligation.

Your heart hurt more than your body. You two had been close for so long. Even after he’d changed, after he came back cold, distant, guarded you still felt more warmth than right now. Like he was reaching for you even when he didn’t realize it. So seeing him acting like this was almost unbearable.

You tried to tell yourself it wasn’t rejection or shame. That he was just protecting you, trying to keep you safe. But it still felt like being left behind.

You didn’t even realize how close you were to the castle until the path curved and the first archway of the courtyard came into view.

“Park.”

Professor Snape stood just beyond the arch, his arms crossed over his chest, black robes billowing faintly in the wind. His gaze flicked over the two of you quickly. His eyes dropped to the way you leaned into Jisung, to your limp. And then he saw the bruises. Even with your collar pulled tight, they peeked out, the edges of bite marks and the faint discoloration just beneath the skin.

Snape’s eyes narrowed.

“Come here,” he said, voice cold.

Jisung didn’t move.

Snape stepped forward. “Now.”

You felt the panic rise in your chest immediately.

“Professor, wait. It’s not—he didn’t—” You reached for his sleeve. “He didn’t force me.”

Snape’s eyes snapped to yours, and for a moment, you almost stepped back. His expression didn’t change, but something in it darkened like your words had confirmed what he already suspected.

“I didn’t ask what he did,” he said sharply. “I asked him to come with me.”

Jisung’s jaw was clenched so tightly it looked painful. He didn’t say a word, just let go of you carefully.

You nearly stumbled from the sudden absence of support.

“I can explain—” you tried again, but Snape raised a hand.

“This is not your responsibility,” he said, more quietly this time. “And you are in no condition to be standing here arguing.”

He turned to Jisung once more.

“Park. Now.”

And without looking back at you, Jisung walked toward him.

You stood there trembling, arms wrapped around yourself, the chill settling deeper into your bones now that he was gone.

Jisung stood in the doorway of Snape’s office with his head hung low. The potions master had stepped away to ensure you made it safely to the hospital wing and to explain the delicate situation to the healers. Minutes stretched on endlessly until finally, he heard the sharp clack of Snape's shoes approaching.

“Go in,” Snape ordered coldly, gesturing toward the open door. The Hufflepuff obeyed silently.

Snape shut the office door behind them with a flick of his wand. The room smelled of ash and damp parchment, but Jisung could still smell your scent stronger than anything else; it clung to him, saturated his senses.

“Sit,” Snape instructed curtly.

Jisung lowered himself into the hard chair opposite the desk, shoulders slumped. He couldn’t bring himself to meet Snape’s eyes.

“How is she?” he asked softly, voice raw.

“She’ll live,” Snape replied coolly, summoning a few vials and herbs onto his desk. “Madam Pomfrey is treating the bruising you saw fit to decorate her with.”

Jisung’s head snapped up, panic clear in his gaze. “I—I bit her. More than once.” The admission spilled out before he could stop himself, heavy with guilt and shame. “Does that mean—”

“No,” Snape interjected sharply. “The curse passes only when the biter is fully transformed under the full moon. You were saturated with Wolfsbane, half-shifted but not contagious.”

Jisung exhaled sharply, gripping the chair arms until his knuckles whitened. Relief flooded him, but Snape wasn't done.

“However,” Snape continued, voice lowering dangerously, “do not delude yourself into believing she was truly safe. Had you missed even one additional dose, or had the moon been at its peak, she would already share your curse, and that responsibility would lie entirely with you.”

Jisung flinched. “I know. I—I keep hurting her. I keep losing control, and no matter how much I try to stay away, something just…pulls me back. I don’t know how to stop it.”

Snape regarded him for a moment in silence before speaking, voice softer but still edged with steel. “That’s because it is no longer a matter of mere control. You've complicated things significantly, Park.”

Jisung looked up slowly, eyes wide with apprehension. “What do you mean?”

Snape folded his hands on the desk, expression severe yet composed. “By marking her during your rut, you've effectively chosen Miss Y/N as your mate.”

Jisung’s breath caught, his throat tightening painfully. "Mate? I—what does that mean?”

“It means,” Snape explained, calm and clinical, “that your wolf has identified her specifically as an anchor. Such mate-bonds occur most commonly during adolescence, particularly around a first transformation. It's why you find yourself physically unable to stay away for long.”

Jisung swallowed, panic bubbling up again. “Is it dangerous? Will I hurt her more?”

“Not inherently,” Snape said evenly. “But the bond is permanent, Park. Your wolf will always crave her presence—most intensely near the full moon or during rut. Ignoring it will only worsen your aggression.”

“Then…what can I do?” Jisung asked desperately. “How do I keep her safe?”

“You must never skip your Wolfsbane. Take it every evening at sundown and report to me regularly so we can adjust dosage accordingly. Furthermore, and pay attention to this, you must manage your bond carefully. You cannot fight it entirely so stay close to her but with awareness, not indulgence. ”

Jisung flushed deeply. “But… after everything I've done, how can I risk being close to her again?”

Snape leaned forward slightly. “The greater risk lies in distance, your instincts will spiral. Proximity is crucial but do not confuse instinct for entitlement.”

Jisung nodded slowly, the weight of responsibility settling heavily onto his shoulders. “Does she…know?”

“She soon will,” Snape replied quietly. “But it is essential she hears it clearly from you. Be honest and thorough. Do you understand me, Park?”

“Yes, sir,” Jisung whispered. “I won't fail her again.”

Snape regarded him a moment longer, then produced a fresh vial of Wolfsbane, setting it decisively on the desk. “Good. Now leave before I decide silence is insufficient punishment.”

Jisung rose unsteadily, clutching the vial to his chest. He walked slowly to the threshold, feeling every step heavy with responsibility. Just as he reached the door, Snape spoke once more.

“Park, if you truly care for the girl, learn how to live with the wolf without letting it consume her.”

The door sealed shut behind him, and Jisung stood for a long moment in the corridor, the potion trembling slightly in his grip.

You lay on one of the hospital wing beds, half-covered by a sterile white blanket, the curtains drawn tightly around you. The air was too quiet, every sound outside muted by the silencing charm Madam Pomfrey had casted when she left you there.

You picked at your cuticles absently, barely noticing the sting where skin peeled back. Your hospital gown gaped at the shoulders, revealing the bruises along your arms in the shape of fingers. Jisung’s fingers. You should’ve been horrified and maybe you were a little bit but there was something strangely comforting about them. His hands had held you through something painful, but they had held you. It made you feel... needed. Like you mattered to him again.

Your thoughts scattered when the curtain parted and Madam Pomfrey stepped through, her face tight with concern. Behind her came Professor Sprout, head of Hufflepuff house. And just before the curtain fell shut again, you caught the edge of black robes retreating down the ward—Snape. He’d definitely told them everything.

You bit your lip and dropped your gaze.

“Hello, dear,” Pomfrey said gently. When you didn’t answer, she cleared her throat. “To begin with, I’d like to offer you a calming draught for the pain.”

“I’m fine,” you said quietly, though your whole body ached. You didn’t want to take anything that would fog your thoughts. You needed to stay alert to explain the situation.

“Well…” she murmured, unconvinced. “Then I’ll start with the surface wounds.”

She gestured toward the scratches and crescent-shaped bites along your shoulders and collarbone. You stayed still while she worked.

Professor Sprout stepped closer, arms folded tightly across her chest. “Miss Y/LN,” she began carefully. “There’s no need to be guarded with us. We’re not here to punish you… but there are a few matters that need to be addressed.”

You nodded wordlessly, eyes fixed on a wrinkle in the bedsheet.

“Madam Pomfrey will heal what she can,” she continued. “But the bite marks will take several days to fade. Magical injuries of this nature are… stubborn.”

“I understand,” you murmured. The marks didn’t bother you.

Professor Sprout hesitated, color rising faintly in her cheeks. “We also understand that Mr. Park was… in a heightened state when you were intimate.”

You saw her flinch slightly at her own words and you almost pitied her. There was no elegant way to discuss something like this. You nodded once.

“Am I correct to assume no contraceptive charms were cast beforehand?”

Your brows pulled together. You’d never studied contraceptive spells properly. You knew they were meant to be used before any intimacy though and given how everything had happened there hadn’t been time for anything like that. You shook your head slowly.

Professor Sprout exchanged a brief look with Pomfrey before exhaling slowly. “Very well. Madam Pomfrey will now perform a diagnostic charm to ensure no unintended consequences arise from your… encounter.”

You nodded again, tending slight when Madam Pomfrey raised her wand and murmured a spell. A pale lavender glow swept across your lower abdomen then faded without a flicker.

“No conception,” she announced softly. “Everything is normal.”

A breath you hadn’t realized you were holding slipped out and you noticed Professor Sprout’s shoulders ease a fraction.

Pomfrey lowered her wand, relief softening the stern set of her mouth. Then she hesitated, studying you over the rims of her spectacles.

“Dear, may I give you some practical advice?”

You nodded, cheeks still furiously warm.

She lifted her wand again. “There are several reliable contraceptive charms you can use. The simplest is Praeventa Conceptum. It’s quick, painless, and lasts a whole day.”

Professor Sprout cleared her throat delicately but said nothing.

Pomfrey demonstrated. She pointed her wand at her own midsection. “Circle once, clockwise, like so.” A pale halo of light traced the motion. “Then speak Prae‑ven‑ta Con‑cep‑tum. Stress on the second syllable of each word. The charm settles just beneath the skin and it’s a mild warming sensation, nothing more.”

You mimicked the motion in the air, whispering the incantation under your breath. A faint peach‑colored glow sparked at your wand tip and faded.

“Good,” Madam Pomfrey said, satisfied. “Remember, the charm must be renewed daily, and it is far more reliable when cast prior to any sexual activity.”

“Thank you,” you murmured, both grateful and faintly embarrassed.

Professor Sprout offered a small, reassuring nod. “Better to learn here than under far less ideal circumstances.”

Pomfrey tucked her wand away. “Knowledge is its own protection.”

“Again, you are not at fault for any of this,” Sprout added, voice firm. “Last night’s events were influenced by circumstances far beyond your control.”

“Is he okay?” you asked softly.

A shadow crossed the professor’s eyes. “Mr. Park is with Professor Snape now, discussing the seriousness of missing future doses of Wolfsbane.” Her tone suggested ‘discussion’ meant something closer to a dressing‑down. “He’ll be monitored closely.”

“It wasn’t his fault,” you said, fingers worrying the edge of the sheet. “I followed him there, fully aware of the consequences. I just wanted to help… and I don’t regret it.”

Madam Pomfrey’s brows knit, but it was Professor Sprout who spoke first. “Miss Y/L/N, no one here is assigning blame. What matters now is that both of you are safe, and that Mr. Park remains diligent with his potion.” Her gaze softened. “Your loyalty is commendable, but your well‑being is equally important.”

You nodded, swallowing the dryness in your throat. “I know.”

Pomfrey dabbed a final line of salve across the deepest bite mark. “You’ll be sore,” she said gently, “but you’ll heal. Rest here tonight, at least until breakfast.”

The curtain swayed gently as they left you alone, and you stared ahead thinking only of the warmth of his breath, the panic in his voice, and the way he’d whispered “you shouldn’t have come” like it had broken him to see you there.

But you would do it all again.

Madam Pomfrey cleared you for release just after sunrise. You dressed in silence, fingers brushing over the gauze she’d left on the deepest bite. She offered one last vial of bruise balm and a faint smile before sending you off.

It was Saturday, thank Merlin. There were no classes so most students were still sleeping. You were relieved as you stepped out of the hospital wing, and saw nothing but an empty corridor.

Though still a strange, hollow pressure settled in your chest. You missed Jisung.

You weren’t sure if it was the residual ache in your muscles, or the fading imprints he’d left on your body, but you felt the absence of him like it was stitched into your skin. You needed to see him.

And then, as if your thoughts conjured him, he appeared.

Jisung was standing at the other end of the hallway, just beyond the shaft of sunlight spilling in from the tall windows. He looked stunned to see you, like he hadn’t meant to be here, like his feet had brought him without his permission.

You hesitated.

Snape had surely warned him again—more strictly this time—to stay away from you. But still, Jisung took a step forward and you followed.

You met in the middle of the hallway, stopping close enough that your chests nearly touched. It wasn’t until you were standing in front of him that you realized how much he’d changed. He was taller now, just slightly, but it was enough to notice. His shoulders were broader, his presence heavier, like the wolf was still there beneath the surface.

He stared at the bruises along your collarbone, what little was visible through the open neck of your shirt. You saw the way his throat bobbed, how his eyes flickered with guilt.

“Are you—?”

“I’m okay, Ji,” you cut in gently, offering him a small smile. “Perfectly fine.”

“I’m so sorry.”

He exhaled shakily, and his hand reached for yours tentatively. You almost gasped at the contact. It had been so long since he touched you first. His fingers threaded through yours like they were remembering how easily he did this all the time before.

“You don’t have to be,” you whispered. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Your other hand rose instinctively, brushing against his cheek. He leaned into the touch immediately, eyes fluttering closed.

“Did Snape scold you too badly?” you asked, voice soft and teasing.

Jisung cracked a smile. “Yeah, I have to clean the Quidditch stands every day this winter without magic.”

Your eyes widened. “Seriously?”

He laughed. “I’m joking.” He paused, eyes searching yours. “Though honestly… I think I deserved one.”

You squeezed his hand gently. “You’ve been punished enough.”

He didn’t respond, just looked at you like he was still trying to figure out if this moment was real.

The corridor felt suddenly too small, so without speaking, you guided Jisung toward the nearest side door that opened onto the courtyard. The November air was sharp, but sunlight spilled across damp flagstones and carried the faint scent of wet leaves.

You walked side by side, your shoulders brushing now and then. After a long stretch of silence, Jisung spoke in a quiet voice. “Do you remember fifth year… when we hid in Greenhouse Three during that thunderstorm?”

You smiled. “And you spent the whole time pretending not to be scared of lightning.”

He huffed a soft laugh. “I kept thinking about that last night. How you held my hand and told me storms always pass.” He glanced at you, guilt and wonder warring in his eyes. “I wanted to go there initially. But then I smelled you, and I went to the Shack instead, thinking you wouldn’t follow me into a place like that.” He laughed bitterly. “I should’ve known better.”

The admission loosened something tight inside you. “Storms pass, Ji,” you said. “Even the ones inside us.”

He stopped, turning to face you fully. “Does this one? Because I can still feel it.” His gaze flicked to your neck where a bruise peeked above your collar. “I feel every mark I left on you like they’re on my body, too.”

You lifted a hand to his chest, just over his heartbeat. “You didn’t hurt me.”

He looked at you, like he almost believed it, but the tension in his jaw said otherwise. “Snape told me… the biting… it wasn’t random.” he dropped his gaze and bit his lip nervously “I… marked you.”

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t interrupt.

“He said you’re my mate now,” he said quietly. “That the wolf chose you. That’s why I can’t stay away. Why I can’t stop smelling you, hearing you even when you’re not around. Why it feels like something’s ripping open in my chest when I try to stay away.”

You stood still, eyes locked on his.

“He said I shouldn’t fight it. That if I try to pretend the bond doesn’t exist, it’ll make it worse. That I just have to be… careful and gentle with it. With you.” He exhaled, voice tight. “He said if I really want to protect you, I have to learn how to live with the wolf, not push it down.”

“What did you say?” you finally asked.

“I told him I’d do anything to keep you safe,” Jisung said. “And I meant it.”

You reached for his hand and he let you take it, though his fingers twitched.

“The bond… is that why you came to the Hospital Wing corridor?”

He nodded, shame creasing his brow. “I woke up and… I was already walking there. I didn’t think.”

“Then next time, think and tell me,” you said. “We’ll handle the need together. On our terms.”

He swallowed. “Snape says if I miss a potion… you’ll be in danger first.”

“Then you won’t miss it.” Your tone brooked no argument. “Even if I have to brew it myself.”

A faint smile ghosted his lips. “You’d sit through that smell?”

“I’d sit through worse.” Your thumb stroked over his knuckles.

He exhaled shakily, some of the tension easing, though the gold still flickered behind his eyes like embers. “I’m not safe yet,” he warned.

“That’s okay,” you answered, stepping close until your foreheads touched. “I’m not scared.”

For a while you simply stood in the sunlight, listening to the distant chatter of students who knew nothing about storms or wolves or the way a heartbeat could echo in someone else’s chest. His hand tightened around yours, and instinctively you looked up, meeting his gaze.

His eyes flickered down to your lips, hesitation clear in the tense line of his jaw. Before he could withdraw, before he could overthink it, you stepped on your tippy toes and pressed your mouth gently to his.

It began softly, a cautious brush of lips but it escalated quickly. His mouth opened hungrily, tongue sliding against your teeth, and you gave in with a low sigh. His hand found your waist first, pulling you closer, then slid up to cup the back of your neck, angling your head so he could deepen the kiss. Your fingers tangled through his messy hair, tugging gently. He groaned into your mouth, hips pressing forward instinctively until you were pinned softly against the rough stone wall.

“I can’t lose control again,” he murmured urgently against your lips but still he kissed you harder, as if he couldn’t pull away even if he wanted to.

“You won’t,” you promised breathlessly. “This is fine.”

His hips snapped forward again, pressing you tighter to the stone behind you. You knew you were out in the open—anyone could pass by and see—but caution melted beneath the heat of his mouth trailing down your neck. The dull soreness from the previous night faded to a faint pulse, replaced by something hungrier, as he sucked gently at your throat.

“Ji—” your voice shook softly, hands gripping his robes tighter. “You’re… you’re not still in rut, right?”

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. “No. No, I don’t think so,” he panted roughly, almost like he was convincing himself too. “It doesn’t feel the same as last night, but—” He exhaled shakily, pressing his forehead to yours “I want you. Fuck, I want you so bad—I don’t think I’ll ever stop wanting you.”

A helpless moan escaped you at the raw admission, your pulse quickening under his mouth when he kissed you again—softer now, more controlled, as if he was proving to himself he could do this without falling apart.

“I won’t let myself hurt you again,” he breathed, lips brushing your skin between each whispered word. “But you need to tell me if it’s too much”

You shook your head slightly, pulling him closer still, holding him like he was the only thing keeping you upright. “Ji, nothing’s ever too much with you. Just stay here… stay with me.”

He shivered, his breath hitching as he kissed you again, trying to ground himself in the feeling of you rather than the wild instinct still whispering beneath his skin.

Someone laughed nearby, close enough to remind you exactly where you were.

Jisung froze against you, his forehead dropping to your shoulder with a soft groan. “We need to move,” he muttered “If anyone sees—”

“Then come on,” you said grabbing his hand.

He followed without another word.

You tugged him along a narrow side-corridor, the secret path behind the Herbology wing that only upper years and rule-breakers bothered with. Past the old broom cupboard, beyond the faded tapestry of a witch laughing drunkenly into her wine goblet, your footsteps were quiet, your pulse anything but. It hammered through your veins, in your fingertips, your throat—everywhere Jisung’s hand stayed locked in yours.

Soon you stood outside Greenhouse Three, abandoned since the storm in your fifth year shattered half its glass panes. Now, ivy and moss crawled along the cracked glass walls, and no one had bothered to repair it, leaving the space forgotten and overgrown.

You slipped through the splintered wooden door, pulling him gently behind you.

Inside, sunlight spilled across broken tables and tangled greenery. Plants had grown wild, illing the air with the scent of damp earth, crushed leaves, and something faintly sweet. You felt your chest tighten from the memory of your younger selves hiding here together.

Jisung remembered it too, you could see it in the softening of his eyes, the way his shoulders relaxed slightly. He caught your lips again, slow at first, but deepening fast, pulling a moan from your throat. Your hands gripped the front of his shirt, pulling him in until you tasted him fully.

“I want you inside me,” you whispered against his mouth, fingers trembling as you tugged at his clothes again.

He groaned softly, forehead pressing to yours. “Say it again.”

Your breath shuddered. “I want you to fuck me, Ji. Right now.”

He kissed you once more, messy and desperate, before stepping back just enough to undo his belt. His hands shook slightly, desire evident as he freed his cock—already hard and flushed, leaking at the tip as he positioned himself between your thighs. You lay back on one of the old greenhouse tables, cool beneath your skin but sturdy enough for this.

Jisung dragged the head of his cock through your folds, groaning openly at how wet you were, coating him perfectly. He pressed gently against your entrance, one hand braced beside your head, the other gripping your hip, thumb stroking tenderly.

He met your gaze, eyes filled with heated care. “Tell me if it’s too much,” he rasped, voice thick with want but edged with concern.

You cupped his cheek softly, eyes locked on his. “It’s perfect. It’s always perfect with you…Just fuck me, Ji.”

And he did.

The first thrust was slow, a deep stretch that pulled a gasp straight from your lungs. His cock slid in inch by inch until he bottomed out, and then he just held there, buried inside, groaning like he’d finally found home.

“Holy fuck,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “You’re so tight, you feel so—shit—you feel like you were made for me.”

You clenched around him involuntarily and he hissed, head dropping to your shoulder as he fought the urge to move too fast.

But control didn’t last long. His hips started to roll into yours, picking up a rhythm that got harder with each thrust. The sound of skin slapping echoed off the glass, mixed with your breathy moans and the desperate groans breaking in his throat.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, heels digging into his back, dragging him deeper.

“Yes, yes—right there—don’t stop,” you gasped.

“I won’t,” he growled. “I can’t.”

He drove into you harder, the table creaking beneath you as he pounded into your soaked cunt like he was trying to carve the shape of himself into your body. You arched under him, nails raking down his back through his shirt, gasping every time he bottomed out and hit that spot that made your toes curl.

He pulled out just enough to watch his cock slide back in.

“Look at this,” he breathed, one hand dragging down to your stomach, pressing just above your pubic bone. “Can feel myself right here.”

You could tell Jisung was obsessed with seeing himself inside you, it made his thrusts hit deeper just so he could feel himself in your lower belly. You moaned brokenly, the pressure making it worse, the angle driving you insane.

“Fuck, fuck—I’m gonna come,” you choked. “Don’t stop—please, don’t—”

“I want to feel it,” he growled. “Come on, baby. Come for me.”

Your body clamped down around him, walls spasming hard enough to make Jisung curse violently. He fucked you through it, rough thrusts stuttering until his own orgasm took him.

With a strangled groan, he slammed into you one last time and came hard, cock twitching deep inside you as he filled you again with thick spurts that made your pussy slicker than before.

He collapsed over you, forehead buried in your neck, both of you panting like you’d run for miles. His cock was still buried inside you, twitching with aftershocks.

You dragged your fingers through his hair gently, voice hoarse. “That didn’t feel like your rut.”

He laughed, breathless. “No. That was just me.”

“Are you okay?” he whispered into your neck, voice raw and reverent. “Did I hurt you?”

You shook your head slowly. “You didn’t. You were perfect.”

He sighed against your skin, relief loosening his shoulders. Then, gently—so, so gently—he pulled out, groaning as his cock slipped free from your cunt. The mess between your legs was immediate, warmth spilling down your thighs, and you whimpered at the sensitivity.

“I got you,” he murmured, already reaching for his wand.

He muttered a quiet cleaning charm, careful not to touch you until you nodded. His hand brushed your knee, then your thigh, his fingers trembling as he whispered the incantation again and wiped away the rest with his robe sleeve.

When he was finished, he kissed the inside of your knee, then your hip, then your stomach like it was part of some silent apology only your skin could understand.

“I’m gonna help you down,” he said, voice soft.

You nodded, and he wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you slowly from the table and holding you close while your legs adjusted. You swayed once, but he caught you instantly.

“You’re shaky,” he murmured.

“You fucked my legs numb, Park,” you whispered, trying to smile, and he let out a breathy laugh, burying his face in your neck.

“I’m never letting you go again,” he mumbled. “Not even if Snape drags me out of your bed himself.”

You held onto him tighter, forehead pressed to his collarbone. “You better keep that promise.”

He kissed your temple. Then your cheek. Then the corner of your mouth.

“I will,” he said. “Forever.”

He helped you sit on the edge of the table while he redressed—pulling his trousers back up, refastening his belt with one hand while the other stayed on your knee like he couldn’t bring himself to stop touching you. When he was done, he reached for your discarded panties, blushing faintly as he held them out to you.

“I should’ve asked first,” he said quietly. “Back then. In the shack.”

You looked up at him, heart aching. “You couldn’t. And I already told you… I don’t regret it.”

He nodded, but the guilt lingered behind his eyes. So you took his hand and laced your fingers through his again.

“We’ll be okay,” you said. “You and me.”

“We will,” he whispered.

You dressed in silence together, stealing soft glances and touches, letting the heat cool but not disappear. And when you finally stepped out of the greenhouse, blinking into the pale afternoon light, Jisung’s arm was already around your shoulders holding you close and as steady as the heartbeat you’d heard pounding through his chest not long ago.

And this time, when he kissed you, it wasn’t desperate or rushed. It was quiet and certain.

Like a promise kept.

eeeeek feedback is greatly appreciated! i love reading ur comments and anons <3

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lilaccmilk · 8 months ago

Note

so....hi and I love your work, amazing btw

so i had this idea yesterday and well what about like a lioness! hybrid reader and a hare! hybrid bf, like I remember reading somewhere that lionesses try to mate with a male around 100 times a day and i was like shocked, but them i remember that hares basically the same so....

kinda matching energy hahaha

but yeah, everything else is up to you

thank you

“I am just a dumb bunny, but we are good at multiplying.”

content warning: hare! male hybrid x lioness!fem reader, mentions of heat/rut and mating season, uhh that’s it i think?

giggling at this ask as we’re speaking.

Alright so, the hare always thought that he would never find someone who matches has libido. I mean, sure he had other females of his kind, but they weren’t the same. That was until he met you— the most sweetest person despite being a predator. You were so kind and so pretty and your skin felt so soft. The hare couldn’t help but find you in his darkest desires. He didn’t really think you’d be able to match his libido, primarily because of the fact that he knew nothing about lioness hybrids.

The start of your relationship was cute and slow. But when the mating season hit— and god it was like a switch had been flipped in you. The hare had been keeping distance from you because he thought he’d tire you out in his own rut. But staying away from your boyfriend became too much, so here you were standing in front of his apartment door, soaked from head to toe because of the rain, 11 in the night.

He quickly got concerned, leading you into his apartment, he went to get you some towels but when he came back— he was hit with the scent of your arousal, and your eyes, god your eyes got so predatory.

You stared at him like he was prey— and he was. You went to him almost ripping his clothes off, not that he minded. Your touch felt like fire on his skin, blazing the flames of his own rut. Without wasting time, you pushed him onto the couch and asked him to take off your clothes. And he obeyed, the sweet scent of his submission hitting your nose.

You had always called him ‘bunny’ to playfully tease him, but now as you growled out “fuck bunny, so pretty f’me yeah?” the nickname would never be the same.

You slowly sank down his length, he was so huge and just filling you up in all the right places. He let out a little whimper as you clenched around him. “Should’ve- hah- should’ve done this sooner.” he mumbles out already pussy drunk. You hadn’t even started and he was already looking like he was fucked dumb. You start moving your hips in a frantic rhythm because you couldn’t think about anything but him. Your mate, your bunny.

The soft plap! plap! plap! fueling your heat on and on. You both reached your climax soon him filling you up full. But no, not enough for you, not enough for you both. You felt your boyfriend flipping you both over, his body moving on pure instinct. You were under him, pinned down.

He started drilling his cock into your pussy. Pace relentless. He wanted to mate you, mark you, breed you. All you could do was let out soft moans and whimpers. His cock was hitting that spot inside of you brutally again and again. Your back arched into him, your pussy clenching deliciously around him, you came with a shudder, and he filled you up again.

You both fell into each other’s embrace, eyes half lidded. He continued kissing your neck, scenting you, his cock still inside you. “5 minutes break?” he asked and you couldn’t help but laugh, “Needy, aren’t we?” but you couldn’t be the one to talk.

#monster boyfriend #monster fucker #monster smut #monster nsft #tw monsterfucking #teratophillia #tw teratophilia #terato #monster fluff #monster bf #hybrid x reader #hybrid smut #hare hybrid #smut #breeding k1nk

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mihii-i · 2 months ago

Text

hypnotized.

Pairings: caitlyn kiramman x fem!reader

CW: nsfw, female reader, afab reader, modern au, CEO caitlyn, secretary reader, both are in their early 20s (23-24-ish), both giving and receiving for the reader but cait is kinda in control-ishhhh?? I don’t know I don’t like dom and sub titles, mutual jealousy, face sitting, cunnilingus, fingering, kind of drunk sex(?) but it’s consensual don’t worry, slight marking, fluffy, yes there is plot before the sexy time so calm down, this lowkey didn’t turn out good but who cares smh, timeskips of two or three months with each line cut, not proofread.

A/N: now playing — ayo technology by 50 cent. ohhhh I see how it is fine if my freaky fic get more likes then I post freaky fic that’s written decently and with plot how bout that yeah stop being thirsty smh guys this is /j and said with love i swear yall are amazing anyway 🕯️

Prolonged ticks of the clock’s hands flicking forward circled the empty enclosure, seemingly bouncing off of the glossed flooring your heels clicked along. Your eyelids briefly lowered upon catching sight of the thick glass shielded along the towering door before you, the lump in your throat bearing a heavy rock of anxiety you were unable to swallow back in the wake of her office only a few steps away.

It had always been an odd instinct of yours which you presumed every other employee had—intimidation. Your CEO was nothing short of a woman who invoked fear without even issuing threats of the sort, rather it primarily resided in the firm character Caitlyn upheld, strictly speaking out in a firm voice that compelled rival companies to shrink away in her presence. Perhaps that conflicting feeling that churned in your stomach could stem from the daunting front of her appearance she swerved into the office with everyday.

You’d think a CEO typically strayed away from a company environment, shrouding themselves in a veil of anonymity, coiled up in the deep shell of their own office in management to dictate every minute detail whether it was the dust on a computer, or the folding of a coffee cup. All while remaining strayed away from the bustling heat of the company itself, scrambling together every spreadsheet, descending their fingers onto a keyboard in rapid clicks all to keep it alive at the very least.

Not Caitlyn though.

You gradually found yourself hooked on the young woman’s conscientious and diligent approach toward affairs in the company, admiring how she firmly stood upon her push to aid the company in thriving. Despite her young age, Caitlyn ensured success in almost every operation she had conducted, her performance exceeding that of any previous CEOs, dare you say even her mother. That only brought up the wavering question that clashed within your head for so long, conflicting in a scrape of your thoughts against each other upon pondering why you felt so anxious around her.

Of course you hadn’t developed a crush on your superior. That would be stupid, not to mention unprofessional.

“You may come in now.”

Her voice snapped you out of your daze in a split second, your eyes flitting upward quickly to fix on her staring you down through the glass door, fingers intertwined in one another with her elbows planted on the desk as her chin rested atop her hands. You cleared your throat as your foot struggled to step forward toward the glass door, inching forward at a near frozen pace with the nonexistent weight of your tense muscles pushing back to prevent you from moving any further.

In one quick motion, you shouldered past the glass swiftly, hand grasping along the cool golden metal of the handles as you pushed the door open with the utmost care, watching your every little movement upon entering her office. You didn’t want to upset her by clumsily breaking anything, that was for sure. Caitlyn’s arms rested along the smoothed spruce of the table, pushing aside the sprawled out papers scattered along her desk in nearly every corner. Drags of black ink were sketched out along each sheet in thin strokes of her cursive writing on each page organized into neat margins.

Caitlyn extended her hand to gesture you into the swiveling leather chair situated before the desk walled before you two, seemingly examining your every little movement as you seated yourself into the opposing cushion of diamond-patterned black leather. Saying you were nervous was an understatement. Although you admired her from afar, close quarters interactions with her always sent you spiraling into a thick tunnel of apprehension, frequently holding your tongue before speaking any word at all.

What were you here for? Were you in some sort of trouble? Had you messed up something in the midst of your work? Seriously- could she just wipe that stern look off her face and tell you already-!?

“(Name), I believe I should simply be upfront with you. I don’t feel like dragging on a meeting to notify you of something so simple.” She pointed out, grabbing your attention as you slightly cocked your head to the side in curiosity. Drawing in a breath, her fingertips tapped along the pen situated to her right, rolling it back and forth along her index finger idly as those sharp swirls of blue bore into your frame. She straightened herself up immediately, dragging down the lapels of her blazer brushing along her tie.

“I’d like you to be my executive secretary, as I..don’t currently have one right now.”

Her abrupt statement was only followed by her exhaling as her gaze averted to the floor aligned with her desk. As if she was refraining from elaborating upon any further details. Typical. You didn’t expect much uttered from the lips of the refined woman after all, just her usual gestures as a sort of quick in and out with business.

With a complacent nod, you carefully withdrew your hands from the spruce desk, palms smoothing along the chiseled edge to roll your chair back and make space for you to stand upright to your full height.

“I..am grateful you consider me worthy. Thank you, Ms. Kiramman.” You replied, forcing yourself to maintain eye contact with your boss’s scrutinizing gaze drilling over, likely fumbling along the possibilities of what could go wrong with you serving as such. Caitlyn blinked for a brief moment, flicking her hand away in a gesture to brush you out of her office. Not exactly a rude gesture, yet one that signed you to leave her sight.

—

“Having trouble with something?”

Your voice caught the navy blue haired woman’s attention, her lips pursing inward as her perplexed expression irradiated within the shines of gentle, pale light from the lamp neatly lit at the corner of her desk. Caitlyn hummed in response with a tiny smile curving up her cheekbones lifting along her face. Recently, you had grown quite fond of her as opposed to your time preceding your position as her secretary, often exchanging as much as a smile with the CEO and engaging in casual conversation—sometimes even outside of work hours.

Simply put, you’ve gotten close to Caitlyn over the course of these few months in your position that kept you at her side. You often basked in the comfort of those little moments that flared a spark of warmth burning inside you when you were beside her, losing yourself in the sweet melody of her laugh residing as the only thing that stuck in your head. Finding yourself utterly fixated on random features of her whenever you’d hang out in a friendly manner after work, it was always a gamble at which what you’d choose to fixate on.

Maybe her neatly combed hair waved down past her shoulders, the volumized tint of dark blue like a deep ocean in the depths of midnight. Or perhaps the lighter blue of her eyes? They complimented her nose- and her smile too. Hell, even the small gap between her two front teeth that caught you in a trance whenever she did smile. Probably her hands?

You couldn’t choose. You liked looking at all of her, honestly.

Oh, but of course only as a friend. Your company would go to shit if you were to get into romantic territory with the literal CEO. Of course only is a friend, is what you’d keep telling yourself.

Caitlyn clicked her tongue to the roof of her mouth as her eyes narrowed across the various sheets across her desk, flickering to her laptop occasionally as she kept her sights on one paper in particular with strokes of fancy writing and a red little thread at the end, a signature splotched along the bottom like an invitation of sorts. You blinked, noticing the little parched envelope splayed open, the red wax seal sitting between the tip of the fold and the center chipped apart, broken with the two ends able to fit together.

“An invite?” You inquired, resting an elbow against her chair as you bent over to skim along the neat arrangement of words in its request to some sort of hall banquet. She circled her thumb along the smoothed creases of the unfolded page, her silence uttering volumes of her hesitance to attend such an important, yet occupying event that would interfere with the initial plans she had arranged in her schedule.

“I’m not sure if I can attend…but at the same time not doing so would skip out on an opportunity. Considering the amount of wealthy investors we could have at the banquet that potentially serve as benefits to our own company.”

You bit your bottom lip in acknowledgment of the situation, opening your mouth to speak before Caitlyn’s words persisted in an unusual undertone of panic.

“Yet- there’s so many arrangements I planned to do on the day, so much work I planned to get done. I can’t possibly fit the stuff I need to do for the next day with keeping things going smoothly.”

Hand pressed flat to her shoulder, you attempted to deliver a comforting squeeze past the ridged shoulders of her blazer, albeit a bit hesitantly as you were still in a professional environment. Thankfully, Caitlyn didn’t find it in herself to keep up the front of her usual stern self, lulling her head against the headrest of her seat as her hand rested atop your own, occasionally tracing against the bumps of your knuckles on the dorsal side of your hand.

“I think you should go. You’ll find a way to fit everything. Besides, this is a a one time opportunity, no?”

Caitlyn’s eyebrows furrowed to contemplate your words, skidding her hands along the desk to take the pen in her grasp as she dwelled on your reasoning before settling on a resolute conclusion with your words into account.

“Perhaps you’re right. Not just for the investors, but just because everyone deserves to unwind probably.”

You stifled an amused huff, before quickly attempting your mask your smile, to which you failed. She peeked over at your uplifted features, responding with her own exhale in a feather light tone.

“Is something funny, (Name)?” She asked, quirking an eyebrow and unable to hide her own grin.

“Nope. I’ve just..never got the chance to mess with you outside of work.”

Caitlyn shook her head as her chin lifted to push the letter off to the side in a discard pile of papers she already read, setting down the pen squeezed between her clasped fingers in front of her. After shuffling through another paper or two, she tightened her hands around both sides of the stack and let it drop into aligning vertically to set it in a neat tower of sheets once more.

“Then shall we go out somewhere again? To ease your mind a little outside of our professional setting?”

Your lashes nearly blurred your vision as you nearly melted in her smooth voice, slick like glistening honey consuming all five senses into a trance that only left you thinking of Caitlyn.

“I think I’d like that.”

—

Well, judging from the months that passed, the party certainly wasn’t what you expected. A banquet hall booked in a lavish hotel. Alright.

The gentle atmosphere of faint gold diffused from the crystal chandelier hung on the towering ceiling left its mark upon every corner of the hall, its dull glow dwelling upon the red carpets and white cloth draped over the rounded tables. You awkwardly huddled in less populated spot beside a table situated to the left of the corridor, nurturing the glass of red wine huddled between your slippery hands, held to your chest.

Specks of wine sloshed around in the confines of the wine glass, staining the clean midpoint with deep red drops trickling back down to pool into the beverage you had only sipped once or twice. You swiftly adjusted your tie hanging below the folds of your collar, the bottom masked by your buttoned up blazer, as you didn’t want anyone judging you for being unkempt for so much as a stray hair strand sticking out.

Your shoulders rolled back as you found your gaze settling onto Caitlyn in the distance, a wave of relief putting you at ease upon seeing a familiar face apart from the managers of your company—whom of which you didn’t have too close of a relationship with. If you’re being honest, you didn’t even know they existed until recently. Maybe you should join her? You were her secretary, so if she was negotiating you should be there to listen in to important affairs as well.

Yet the moment you came remotely close to the vicinity to which crowds of elegant, refunded people stood circles around her, you quickly scrabbled back to a safe distance, keeping yourself far from the chatter and bellowing laughter flooding the clearing. That alien sensation twisting at your chest returned once more clouded your judgement in a thick fog, lingering within you ever since the party began whenever your view consisted of Caitlyn with another person. Especially any of those businesswomen that got weirdly touchy with her.

You scoffed, attempting to internally cut away those strings of jealousy tugging and squeezing at your heart in as if treating you garrote the beating muscle thumping against your chest. Squeezing the neck of the wine glass between your thumb and forefinger, your scrunched up expression could only be shrouded behind the swirling, thin layer of burgundy spilling past your lips and seeping onto your tongue.

“Ah, my secretary? She’s right there.”

Snapping your head over to the direction of your boss’s familar voice, accompanied by the easily classy accent rolling off her tongue you could distinguish within seconds. Holding the wine glass in your palm, fingers snaked above the neck to hold the base of the cusp, you noticed Caitlyn gesturing you to come over. Of course, accompanied by the stares of several others examining your every little move from that moment. Hesitantly, you stepped over to her until you brushed shoulder to shoulder with her, tense under the eyes of many glancing over you.

“So, about the deal you had struck to invest?”

A middle aged woman strode forwards as she shouldered past the crowds of people, tutting as she seemed satisfied with both the CEO and her secretary inquiring about a deal.

“Right. If I’m being honest, I’m seeking a piece of your company. Not just a small share. $6 million. I want 60% ownership.”

Caitlyn’s eyes widened, your own expression matching hers at the ridiculous ‘deal’ she thought she could strike. You opened your mouth to protest, composing yourself to assert your objection to the preposterous idea that she proposed.

“Hold on. 6 million isn’t even remotely close to match such a high ownership amount. You are aware that we’re somewhere in the billions in terms of company worth?”

The other woman rolled her eyes, cigar twirling between her fingers as her teeth ground together, pretending to think over your objection.

“I believe I asked the CEO, not her secretary with a pretty face.”

“You’ll get the same answer from Cai- Ms. Kiramman.”

Your swift correction earned a flicker of surprise across the other woman’s features, taking a hit of her cigar in a cloud of an awful stench stemmed from the dusty grey cloud causing you to choke out a cough.

“Hm. You must be closely acquainted with the chief executive officer to address her by her first name. Don’t tell me, you didn’t actually earn that position of yours?”

Your mouth nearly ran dry at her implications, horrified. You tried to alleviate the situation by speaking up. Saying something, anything. But she just kept going.

“Oh, Ms. Kiramman. What have I told you of ranking up those who aren’t qualified? If we’re talking about any other low company she would’ve been the CEO herself by now based off of the other services she could provide-“

“I advise you shut your fucking mouth.” Caitlyn bristled, the entire hall going dead silent at her foul words hissing through her teeth as she folded her arms. Her contorted expression of vexation remained glued to her face as she continued to speak, nearly making the other woman’s cigar slip out of her hands and tumble along the floor.

“I very obviously won’t be even remotely inclined to accept your offer. Especially since you have the gall to request something so obviously designed to take advantage of someone you deem to have less experience than you.”

She sucked in a breath, pinching the bridge of her nose as everyone’s eyes now dulled onto her, to which she didn’t pay any mind to. Her fingertips grazed your wrist for a moment, before she balled her hand up to retract from the bliss she found in your touch.

“My secretary and I..will be heading to our respective rooms for the night.” She murmured quietly, her tone hushed as she kept her thumb and forefinger pinched on the bridge of her nose.

Upon leading you to the front desk, you could only follow behind her in mindless motions as every word spoken after only registered as a soundless ring of translated into a high pitched buzz. Your blood ran cold with each lingering step shadowed behind you when you followed Caitlyn to the door of your hotel room, blinking as you were finally able to ground yourself back into reality the minute you set foot into the hotel room.

Gaze lingering in awe upon each piece of lavish decor furnished along the stands and shelves lined in gold frequently, you paused as you took in the sight of Caitlyn seated on the bed in front of you, blazer carelessly hanging off the edge of the couch’s armrest as she stared at the carpet with her legs crossed over one another.

“We’re staying in the same hotel room?”

She nodded, not even bothering to look up at you.

“Sorry. I should’ve confirmed whether you were okay with it.”

“No- no..it’s fine. I just- thought you might prefer some privacy.”

Caitlyn shook her head, eyes fixed down on her lap as her hands planted back onto the bed. Her tie loosely hung down her chest as she carefully reached one hand over to undo the ponytail that held her hair up, allowing the spills of dark blue to cascade down her shoulders before raising the same hand up to smooth out the front part of her hair. You only swallowed as your weight creased down on the bed as well, comfortably seating yourself onto the mattress next to her.

Was it just you, or did her lips look nicer today?

Of course with that exhaustion you withheld from drawling out throughout the whole party, you slurred the thoughts manifested into words, slipping right out like it was nothing.

“Your lips look beautiful today.”

You weren’t drunk. Not even close. Yet the way you let your front falter in the setting between the two of you, sharing the same room on the same bed—made you feel drunk off her presence alone. Intoxicated by the leash this woman practically had on you, not even voluntarily exerting her control over you, yet you offered yourself up to her embrace that engulfed you like a storm. Allowing yourself to crave the way you relished in your desire for Caitlyn.

And Caitlyn only.

Caitlyn rose an eyebrow to process the words you had just spoken, her hands drifting over to settle on her lap.

“Sorry? (Name)…I don’t think I heard you properly.”

You were tired. Tired of pretending you didn’t like…or rather love, this woman. Tired of letting the pesky environment of work, the facade of ‘professionalism’ shove back the feelings you held for her. Tired of using the excuse that she’s your boss when the two of you were clearly more than just boss and secretary outside of work.

You were tired of pretending you weren’t in love with Caitlyn.

“I said what I said..I’m so sick of pretending. Cait, I’m..sorry if this is abrupt. I love..”

Running your fingers through your scalp, you struggled to speak, taking note of how she uncrossed her legs and leaned in to give you her full attention. Her eyelids drooped into a sort of dreamy look of infatuation boring into you, reaching over to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, to which you nearly flinched due to the heat radiating off your cheeks.

“You were saying?”

You couldn’t even say what you wanted to, now stuttering words into incoherent vowels as meangingless noises drew out of you like a malfunctioning machine. Rolling your shoulders back, you couldn’t even begin to fathom the feverish warmth that crawled up your your neck to your jawline as Caitlyn leaned her body forward, practically forcing you to not break your gaze with her as her lips ghosted over yours, only a few centimeters away.

“That you were in love with me?”

Either your heart completely stopped, or rapidly beat faster, and you couldn’t put your finger on which one it is. Shallow breaths escaped your lips as you caught a glimpse of Caitlyn’s pupils dilate for a split second, to which you brushed off as nothing but a hallucination. You dragged your bottom lip between your teeth, pursing your lips inward away from her, no matter how badly you wanted to lunge in for a kiss right then and there.

Caitlyn expelled a noise similar to a scoff, slipping her slender pointer finger below your chin to tilt your head up.

“Don’t do that. How else am I going to kiss you?”

That was more than enough to allow your lower lip to slide past your teeth back to their original position, unable to keep up with the fleeting, sudden change of pace as you felt soft flesh collide against your own. Locking both of your lips together as she hugged them in a fervent embrace, fingers dancing along your waist as her hand pressed flat against the fabric cloaking your ribcage. You couldn’t help the shrill whimper that you gasped out as Caitlyn impatiently fumbled with the buttons of your blazer, holding your shoulders to help you shrug off the article of clothing, yet not allowing you to break away from her lips fit snug against yours.

Heat crept along every inch of your skin in the ardent pursuit of your desire that Caitlyn had wrapped you in, her gentle sighs fanning along your lips as her fingers prodded and squeezed at various parts of your torso, even finding their way to slip beneath your bra and knead at the soft mounds of flesh occasionally as if her hands had a mind of their own. Upon pulling back, her eyes raked along your disheveled body, already so spent from a mere kiss.

“Cait..” you breathed out, leaning back as you kept your eyes locked on her tall stature towering before you, breath catching in your throat upon noticing the blue haired woman lift her shirt over her head to loom over you with that distinct fury of passion soaring within the pools of cerulean within her eyes.

“I was hoping you’d say it first. Glad my wish came true.” She chuckled, leaning her body over yours, hands planted firmly on either side of your body. Only this time, you weren’t nervous, nor did you pull away. You only wrapped your arms around her neck, touching your nose to hers as you allowed your vulnerability to be laid out on display, exposed to her as you knew you shared the seem feeling of entangling affection with Caitlyn.

“Gods...I love you, Cait. I love you so much.”

“I love you too, (Name). I can’t take hiding it anymore.”

Once more, both of you closed the little distance there was into yet another heated kiss, pressing your bare chest to hers as the warmth of your hands rested on her shoulders, both of your tops discarded at on the side of the bed atop the hotel room carpet. Her moans muffled against your swollen lips, hand desperately shuffling against the pearly skin of her back to unclasp her bra as you were met with Caitlyn’s lips grazing along your neck. To which you rolled your head back in hopes of providing more ease for her to kiss your throat.

Her sharp inhales jerked in rapid successions along the lining of your neck trailed to your collarbone, teeth occasionally tugging to leave faint blooms of red which she immediately dragged her tongue over to remedy as an apology. The two of you remained pressed to each other firmly, no space harbored between your bodies as you allowed yourself to surrender to the affection that swelled within you for her, spiking along every fiber in your body like a hypnotizing nectar that left you in a trance in her mercy. Only that, you weren’t hypnotized. No. You wanted her all to yourself.

You simply basked in the endearment of her touch gliding along your skin like a sacred dance, a touch she reserved for only you to feel as she nipped at your collarbone almost pathetically, yet maintaining the firm front. Quite a different side you allowed yourself to see of your boss, the side of her which you had the luxury to embrace behind closed doors.

“Can I..? Please, (Name).”

“Do whatever you please. I just want you right now.”

Caitlyn sat up, glancing over at the wine glass and tall bottle of Romanée-Conti wrapped up in a silk white bow. Looks like they wanted to accommodate the guests with a beverage as well. And an expensive one at that. Quickly, she was able to split open the lid with ease in a hurry, as if she was desperately rushing her way to chug the wine. Your hand rested on her forearm as your dull, yet ardent gaze eased her to go slow, your silence speaking volumes of your emphasis on the time you two had.

She exhaled through her nose, a smile quirking up one of her lips as she fumbled for the glass near the bedside table, allowing the deep red swirled with a tint of purple-ish tones around the rim waterfall to the middle of the cup. Screwing the lid back on with one hand, she carefully set the bottle back on the edge of the bed, before she quickly dropped her weight before you, earning a small ‘oof.’

Her thighs straddled either side of your waist, hand snaked beneath your chin to keep you in the grasp of her palm. You swore that she wanted like she wanted to devour you alive, transfixed intently on both your lips and chest with each rasped out gasp elicited from her.

“Open your mouth.” She commanded, immediately bringing the rim of the wine glass to your lips as she tilted your head back, keeping your head supported with her hand resting on the base of your neck. You slightly parted your lips, losing yourself in the rose-like bitterness of sweetness spilling down your chin, the drops of burgundy dribbling down your throat and trickling along the valley of your breasts.

Pulling away the wine from you abruptly, she downed the remaining before grasping the bottle once more, repeating the consumption of alcohol for the two of you atleast two or three more times before deeming herself satisfied. Of course, despite not being entirely hammered, you still found yourself a little lightheaded, vision blurring together for a moment as you took in Caitlyn’s flushed face directly in front of yours.

Even in the flurry of drunken feelings that supposedly fogged up your head, you knew full well you still craved her.

You could barely even process anything when the CEO disrobed before you almost entirely, kicking off her dark trousers to reveal the contrasting white of her panties stuck to her cunt from the slick accumulated against the fabric. To be completely honest, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t equally, if not more soaked than she was. After all, you were laying with your back flat against the bed, so deeply bonded and about to make love to the woman of your dreams.

“Do you think you can handle all my weight?”

You sat up a little, confused, before your face practically sparked to the temperature of a flame at the realization, managing a flustered nod. In moments, you could only watch in awe as she peeled off the damp cloth covering her pussy, her movements agonizingly slow.

Barely able to to respond to the alluring sight before you, you were cut off by her leering over as she inclined to meet her nose with yours, her body fully shoved up to yours.

It wasn’t long before you found yourself latching your mouth onto her clit as your back lay flush to the plush mattress, wallowing in the flurry of Caitlyn’s moans wrenching out of her throat as your tongue prodded at her slit to trace up and down, drinking up every drop of her essence dribbling down your chin with each obscene squelch of your tongue pulsing against her hole.

Her hoarse gasps slipped past her parted lips, back arching as her hips rolled forward against your mouth, your noises muffled against her cunt. Caitlyn’s breath caught in her throat as your tongue slipped down to attend to her folds, lapping at the velvety texture like a starved woman, as if every moan that ripped out of her was a prize you gained from the work you spent eating her cunt as her weight pressed against your face.

“Don’t…stop..”

You stifled a whine against her lubricated skin, fingers digging into her thighs to hoist her further apart, leaving a kiss on her thigh or a small reddened bruise periodically to look up at Caitlyn’s face, her head tipped back in bliss as her eyes squeezed shut with each drag of your tongue along her cunt, streams of her juices dribbling down your chin not too long after. Her chest heaved up and down, dusted in a pretty pink as she crawled off of you weakly, head lulling against your lower abdomen.

Reaching a hand out, you attempted to gain a lazy feel of her tits from below, to which you were immediately denied, her hand holding your wrist with a gentle smile juxtaposing her harsh curl on your wrist.

“Not yet.”

A perplexed expression crossed your face, before immediately widening your eyes at the foreign intrusion. You bit back a guttural moan as Caitlyn’s fingers slid past your own slick cunt, knuckles ridged along the throbbing walls of your cunt clenching around her. You drawled out in a chorus of drunken moans pouring out of you, alongside the overwhelming pools of slick puddles between your thighs to stain the sheets, eyes rolling back in ecstasy with each push of her fingers curling in your pussy.

You buried your face in her shoulder, eyes rolling back past your closed eyes as her palm ground against your clit with each controlled thrust, her repeated motions only drowning you in the pleasure of her warmth intertwined with yours.

“Fuck-! Cait-! Love you-! I love you I love you I love you!”

Your words drawled out as an incoherent plea, the utter pleasure her fingers plunged into you bundling closer and closer to the edge with your muscles tightening, as her movements grew more intense as you neared your inevitable orgasm.

…

“Mm..what time is it?” You whispered, peeking out at the slivers of moonlight illuminated in small streaks past the red curtains as you sat up from Caitlyn’s arms tightened around you like a vice, holding you against her chest.

The navy blue haired woman sat up beside you, groggily rubbing her eyes as she pulled you closer against her. “Uhm..I’d say around 2 a.m. I assume?”

You flopped back down into her arms, earning a soft laugh from her as your eyes fixed on the gap between her teeth. Nuzzling into Caitlyn’s shoulder, your hands flew back down to her waist, dragging the covers back over you two with your foot hoisting the thick blankets to cover your bare bodies.

“What about work tomorrow?”

“What about it, my darling (Name)?”

“Well, is this going to be an issue or-“

“Love, don’t worry about that. At all. Just rest, forget about the company for now, because that’s definitely what I’m doing in this moment.”

You smiled, cuddling up to her as your eyelids drooped and your body eased into the comfort of her touch, falling into the hold of Caitlyn’s affection.

Just keep yourself in the arms of the woman you love right now.

Everything’s going to turn out fine.

A/N: WHY AM I GETTING SO EMBARRASSED WRITING NSFW RECENTLY HOLY SHIT anywayyyy I have mixed feelings about this some parts were good some were complete ass but overall this is okay yes yippee

also yes, I based it off this edit by @glittrdust. on tiktok.

Anyway goodnight I’m TIRED I had awful writers block and my mental dictionary flew away while writing this omfg

ALSO HELP I SAVED THE END AND MY HEART DROPPED FOR A SEC BC IT SAID I DELETED THE DRAFT BUT THABK GOD I DIDNT I HAD A MINI HEART ATTACK OMFG

also no I’m not cheating on my beloved mizu with the other blue eyed wasian i love mizu im writing for her next again

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rosenclaws · 2 months ago

Text

What you've been missing || Worst!Logan x Reader

summary: Logan has found work at a local pet shelter but the last person he expects to see is his very cute neighbor looking for a new cat.

warnings: sad cat backstory, fluff, swearing

a/n: Here's pet shelter logan!! I'm ngl I almost started crying writing this because I want a cat so fucking bad but my dad is allergic and I still live at home so I can't get one. Also it made me think of this one senior cat I saw and I wanted so bad I cried to my boyfriend for days. Anyways I hope lives up to the og idea blurb I had. I've been feeling a little down and wanted to write something cute for a change.

"Hey watch the claws bub." Logan glares at his attacker. The one who stuck their sharp little claws into his leg as they climb his body like a tree.

Merooow

The adorable orange cat looks up at him with innocent little eyes. The cutest he's ever seen. Sighing he takes the cat in one hand and places her on his shoulder.

"This is why the others think I play favorites Jeanie." he mumbles. She just purrs happily, rubbing her head against Logan's and taking her place on his wide shoulders.

This really isn't how Logan expected to spend his time. But getting pulled into a new universe meant he was starting from square one and that meant he needed a job and money. Bad. If he ever wanted to get his own place so he didn't have to wake up and see Wade walking around in nothing while making breakfast. Most places were unsure about hiring a man like Logan.

Until he stumbled upon a local pet shelter. Yeah he's not exactly what anyone would think when they thought animal rescue but the animals loved him and this shelter desperately needed help. Plus Logan always got along better with animals than humans. Logan was primarily put in charge of the cats. Feeding, changing their litter box, and playing with them.

Logan understood the cats and they seemed to understand him. They wouldn't hiss or scratch him out of fear, they inherently trusted him. He found himself a little home. He could escape the world and just be around the animals.

"Where are my babies?" He hears Wades voice come from the other room. Logan rolls his eyes as he walks in with a big bag of cat food on his other shoulder.

"There you are Shopping cart and Totino's pizza rolls." Wade scratches the two cats heads. Surprise surprise he named them.

Though as soon as they hear Logan walk in they abandon Wade without a second thought. Logan slices open the bag and pours food into each bowl. The cats scramble to eat, doesn't matter if you had fed them an hour ago they're always happy for food.

"Jeanie, you gotta eat bub." Logan raises his hand and gently pets her head. But her claws dig deep into his shirt.

"Alright come on," Logan he grabs a can of cat food and walks into an empty room.

The sound of it opening makes her ears perk up. Logan gently takes her off his shoulder and places her on the table next to the canned food. He watches as she sniffs it, taking a few small bites before looking back at him.

"More than that." He scolds and she just meows back.

"Please?" She takes one more small bite before abandoning the food and curling up by his side.

Logan sighs, pushing his hair back as takes her in his arms. Jeanie was a surrendered cat. Logan hadn't been here long when she was brought in. Her owner was an old lady who had passed away and her kids couldn't keep Jeanie.

The first week was really hard. She was sad, lonely, and would barely touch her food and water. At first Logan let the more experienced staff deal with her but she just wouldn't budge. Eventually he gave it a shot, talking to her and pushing some nice wet food towards her. To everyone's shock she actually responded to Logan. Peeking her head out of her cage and giving even sniffing his hand.

Since then she really only responded to Logan. Following him around and giving him all her love and attention. She was a mature cat, not as cute as the kittens that most people scooped up right away. It did hurt Logan just a little to see her be passed up because of her age, but Logan did enjoy getting to see her everyday. Still, he knows that with Mary Puppins at home he can't adopt her.

Suddenly the door opens and Jeanie scurries back up to Logan's shoulder.

"Logan, I have a 1:30 appointment and Kathy isn't here so I need you to cover her." Penny begs, she's the one who runs the shelter. She gave Logan the job and he does owe her, but he's never been good with customers.

"I don't know, not exactly a people person." He mumbles but she just rolls her eyes, grabbing his wrist and drags him out of the room. Well kind of, it's hard to pull a 300lb man with a metal skeleton.

"Just one appointment. Show them some cats and see if they want to adopt. That's it."

"Okay," Logan agrees, hoping it's over quickly. He tries to put Jeanie down but she throws a fit, meowing loudly until he just gives up.

"Fine, but you keep it down when I'm talking alright?" He pushes open the door leading to the lobby and stops right in his tracks.

There you are sitting on the waiting room couch. Logan knows you. You live a couple apartments down from Wade. He's seen you in passing, catching whiffs of your shampoo in the elevator in the least creepy way ever. You've shared a few hellos but that's it.

The truth is Logan's pretty...well pretty. Your crush on him wasn't surprising in the slightest but you try and stay clear of him, hoping that it will go away so that you can actually talk to the man one day.

"Logan? I didn't know you worked here?" You say, shocked to see your hot neighbor here.

"Yeah, uh anyways you here to adopt a cat?" He asks awkwardly.

"I hope," You respond.

He nods his head and opens the door for you, putting his hand out as to say you first. Logan shows you a couple cats up for adopting, they're all adorable but none of them feel quite right. On the bright side they're kittens so you know they'll be adopted soon.

Logan remains relatively quiet as you say hi to each cat. Wade's been incredibly persistent about getting him to talk to you. Saying that only serial killers smell peoples hair in the elevator and to just pop a Viagra and talk to you. Pushing Wade's stupidly aside, he really doesn't know how to talk to you.

It's stupid, he used to be great at this kind of thing. Flirting was second nature to Logan but now he can barely think of a conversation starter. Plus you don't make it easy when your laugh is so hypnotizing and your smile is brighter than the moon.

"Who's this pretty girl?" Your voice breaks his thoughts. You're pointing to Jeanie who was still on his shoulder.

"Oh, this is Jeanie." She tilts her head at the sound of her name.

"She's so cute." You lift your hand up but Jeanie shrinks away. You immediately pull your hand back, afraid that you've upset her.

"Don't feel bad, she's not great with people."

"Reminds me of someone else I know." You joke. Logan raises an eyebrow, are you talking about him?

"Me, I was talking about me." You add on quickly.

"I've never really been great at making friends or just being around people." The truth is you're lonely.

You're tired of coming home to an empty cold apartment after work. Sure sometimes you go out with coworkers or old friends but it's not the same. You like being alone but you don't like to be lonely. Does that even make any sense? Not that you want to burden Logan with your problems.

"I wanted to adopt a cat because I wanted a friend, is that sad?" You ask nervously. Logan chuckles, reaching up and placing Jeanie down on the counter nearby.

"Not at all, I get it." Logan was alone for a lot of his life and he's still adjusting to having friends. A family if you could call it that. A really weird and fucked up family.

"Play nice Jeanie, I like this one so don't go scratching them up." He whispers, but you catch his words anyways. A faint smile on your lips as you reach your hand out slowly.

"Hi Jeanie, I'm a friend of Logan's." This time Jeanie doesn't run away, in fact she sniffs your hand cautiously.

She looks back at Logan and he nods. You smile when she rubs the side of her face against your hand. Walking around slowly as she takes you in.

"I think she likes you." Logan says.

Carefully you pet her head, making sure not to overstep any boundaries and Jeanie seems to love it. She even rolls on her back surprising both you and Logan.

"Her owner passed away, that's why she's here." He explains as you continue to pet her. Her big eyes are too much to resist. You know senior cats often get overlooked but she deserves to be loved again.

"Is she adoptable?" You ask and Logan hesitates. The answer is yes but apart of him doesn't want to see her go. He's grown very fond of her. But...she deserves a home. Even if it will hurt letting her go.

"Yeah, she is." He says softly.

"If its okay with you, I want to adopt her." Logan's heart clenches, he smiles but he feels the sadness creep in.

"Of course, let me get the paperwork." When Logan disappears you see Jean start to look around, wondering where her friend had gone.

"Hey there girl, If it's okay I want to take you home. I promise I'll take really good care of you." You say gently.

Her little whiskers twitch and she gently headbutts your face. The connection you feel with Jeanie is something you just haven't felt with any of the other cats. You want to love her and give her a nice warm home with toys and treats and anything she could ever want. But apart of you feels guilty knowing how close she is to Logan.

"Just need you to sign a few things and then pay the adoption fee." Logan says, coming back through the door.

Jeanie trots up to Logan and rubs her head all over his hand and torso. Purring happily as he scratches her head. But she makes no move to get on his shoulder, in fact she trots over to you and does the exact same thing. He's always heard that cats have a good sense of character, so he trusts Jeanies judgement here.

After signing the papers and paying the fee Logan helps you carry Jeanie to your car. You can see the hesitancy in Logan's face. The sadness behind those hazel eyes of his.

"Logan, do you want to say goodbye?" You ask softly. He was never going to ask for himself but you could sense he needs it.

"If you don't mind." He mumbles.

"Of course, I'll go put the rest of the stuff in my car." You touch his arm, squeezing it gently before giving them their space.

"Alright Jeanie listen up, you gotta be on your best behavior okay? You deserve this and I know they're gonna love you real good." Logan holds Jeanie up to his face. She just meows as Logan talks.

"I'll miss you bub, don't tell any of the other cats but...you were my favorite." He gives her one last chin scratch.

Jeanie headbutts his face one more time, rubbing her head along his jaw as if to say goodbye. You watch the whole thing from your car, you feel horrible taking her away from Logan. But you know that your building has a rule against more than one pet. If anyone were to take her, he's glad it's you.

Maybe...maybe this is your chance to talk to Logan. Your crush lingers but maybe you don't have to get over it. Logan walks over and hands her to you. He starts to walk away but you call his name, chasing after him.

"You know, I could really use some help with Jeanie. I mean I don't know what food she likes or her favorite toys or anything like that." You ramble, seeing Logan's face turn to that of confusion.

"I was wondering, if you wanted to come over for dinner tomorrow night? Help Jeanie get settled in and stuff." You ask nervously. Your anxiety building as you wonder if this was a mistake.

"You sure?" Logan asks, unsure if you're just doing this because you feel bad for him.

"Yes. I mean. I've been wanting to ask you to dinner sooner but I've never found the right moment because you're really hot and you make me very nervous but Jeanie is going to miss you and it would be cruel of me to keep you two apart so it's a win win situation and I'm going to stop talking now." The words vomit from your mouth before you can stop them.

Great now he's going to think you're creepy and lonely. Logan chuckles, a blush creeping up his face. Was it always this hot outside today?

"Dinner sounds great. I can't cook for shit but I can try for you." Your face breaks out into a smile, Jeanie purring as you hold her close to your chest.

"Then its a date." You say shyly. Logan steps closer to you, his eyes on your lips.

"It's a date." He starts to lean but Jeanie meows loudly making both of you laugh.

"Okay I should get her home, the doors always open if you miss her by the way." You tell him and he thanks you. He stands in the parking lot with a smile, watching as you drive away. Wade sneaks up next to Logan, scratching behind his ear before Logan pushes his hand off in annoyance.

"What the fuck?!"

"Look at you boy! Did someone decide to take you home?" Wade asks in fake excitement.

"Shut up." Logan grumbles, rolling his eyes as he turns around to walk back to the shelter.

"Is someone grumpy? How about we get you a new collar and some treats huh boy?"

"I said shut the fuck up red." Logan snaps but Wade just smiles wider. He's been waiting for someone to adopt his friend. Wade was this close to posting an ad on craigslist.

Old man mutant available for adoption. Loves beer, hates everything else. Is potty trained.

Wade sees the smile Logan's trying to hide. He's been waiting for you guys to get together forever.

"Aww does someone need a belly rub?"

"Touch me and die asshole."

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #worst!logan howlett #worst!logan x reader #wolverine x reader #logan howlett fluff

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starmapz · 2 months ago

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what are your hcs on wyk sukuna as a husband

cw ; based on what you know. f!reader. fluff! mentions of sex.

i definitely think wyk!sukuna would struggle with the idea of marriage. not because he doesn't love you or want to spend the rest of his life with you, he has no doubts about that- but because he's afraid. he never experienced the love of two married parents and he doubts his ability to provide for you, and he fears the idea of tying you down when he knows his life is a lot to handle. he fears it isn't what you want.

for that reason, it takes wyk!sukuna a long time to work up the courage to propose. when he finally does, he's beyond relieved that you say yes, overjoyed. he doesn't do grand gestures, he's not the type to make a big show of the proposal, but he does want it to be intimate, something memorable and special for you.

wyk!sukuna doesn't dress up often beyond slacks and a button-up, so seeing him in a full suit at the end of the aisle is just about the most jaw-dropping sight on the planet. his hair is freshly cut, his face clean-shaven, unable to stop fiddling with the sleeves of his suit. when he sees you, every fear fades away because nothing else matters anymore.

husband!wyk!sukuna is obsessed with you. he's not overly vocal about it, he's still the stoic and grumpy man you fell in love with, but it's clear if you're looking for the signs. no matter how quiet he is though, there's no greater pleasure than calling you his wife.

husband!wyk!sukuna is the type of man to show his love primarily through acts of service and physical touch. he's so accustomed to working himself to the bone that he's more than willing to do a few extra chores around the house if it means you don't have to. to him, it's still way less than what his schedule used to resemble, even if you complain that he never lets you help. you help him more than you could ever know, in other ways.

speaking of physical touch, husband!wyk!sukuna is touchy to an almost annoying degree. you're busy working? he'll come up behind you and massage your shoulders, but that quickly devolves into him trying to distract you to gain your attention. cooking something in the kitchen? there's a good chance he's there behind you, his lips on your neck and hands on your hips.

husband!wyk!sukuna has a high sex drive for sure, but the truth is that he just enjoys being the apple of your eye. he enjoys the intimate little pieces of love found within quiet moments watching movies with you held tightly against him. he's at his happiest when you give his foot a gentle nudge under the table at dinner, for no other reason than to shoot him your gorgeous smile.

husband!wyk!sukuna doesn't like to give you flowers. not because he doesn't value the thought behind it, but more because he doesn't like the idea of giving you something with an expiry date. his love for you will never die so why should he give you a gift that will? you're worth more to him than that, so he's more likely to give you a whole plant.

he can't get you too many plants though, because husband!wyk!sukuna wants to make up for all the experiences he missed out on over the years, and travel is absolutely one of them. he loves history and art and wants to visit all the places his dad mentioned when he was younger, but not without you there with him.

outwardly, sukuna comes across fairly cold, but you swear husband!wyk!sukuna melts when you visit paris and ask to do each and every romantic activity. he wants to visit the catacombs and the louvre, but you? you want to write your names on a lock at the pont des arts. he scowls the whole time, but only because if he doesn't, he'll be a big ol' mushy mess.

your house is filled with photos that husband!wyk!sukuna sneaks while you're traveling, though his favorite was taken beneath a waterfall. you caught him off-guard, his attention on the flowing water with his arms around your middle while you grin at the camera. it sits on his desk at work as well.

you're husband!wyk!sukuna's muse. he never stops drawing and sketching, he adores doing landscape pieces based on places he's been and photos he's taken, but you're a part of all of them, whether you're in the original photo or not.

anyone who meets you after college is caught by surprise when you introduce them to husband!wyk!sukuna. he's snide and cold-shouldered, while you're sweet and open. they don't know the bond you share, and honestly, you're more than okay with that. your husband prefers to keep the details of your life between you, anyway. his life is something he shares only with those he's closest to.

still, your new friends begin to warm up to husband!wyk!sukuna through his eye rolls and snarky comments when they get a glimpse of the person he is around you. all it takes for you to get his attention is a simple nudge and he's all yours. anything you need, he's at your service, even if he's teasing you or making a big deal out of it. it's all just a show, when it comes to you.

oh, and those who are privy to the fact he took care of his brothers? husband!wyk!sukuna becomes the go-to babysitter for them. he doesn't mind, either. he likes the opportunity to give his and your friends a break to go out, because he gets it. and although it might not have been the greatest point in his life, sometimes he misses when his brothers were younger and their biggest worries were who would get the last chicken strip. he may not want kids of his own, feeling as though he already has them in a sense, but he likes being an uncle of sorts to your friends' kids. plus, he's a great target for nerf darts. and when they get older? he's the cool uncle who takes them to paintball and horror nights at the local fair.

husband!wyk!sukuna is a dry texter, he's a man of few words both when chatting and texting, so it makes it that much funnier when he sends you a photo out of the blue, no caption. just a photo of a plush rabbit. why? "it's you," he texts back. this is an oddly common occurrence. anything that looks remotely cute and tiny to him, that's you. and when you're 6'11" and pure muscle, most things are small and cute.

husband!wyk!sukuna's prized possessions are the woven bracelets from his brothers and his wedding ring. As the years go by, the bracelets eventually tear and fall off, but Sukuna still keeps them. In fact, many years later, you notice there's a new ring that sits on his right middle finger, and upon closer inspection you find that the torn bracelets have been turned into a ring. nothing means more to him than family.

husband!wyk!sukuna knows he's a lot to handle, and he knows his temper is the biggest thing he needs to work on. he gets snippy easily, but he'll also own up to his mistakes before it gets anywhere. he's lost you once, he's learned his lesson. no amount of frustration is worth losing you.

your happiness is husband!wyk!sukuna's priority. he may be dense as hell when it comes to little signals (he begs you to just spell things out for him), but he's in tune with your discomfort and won't take it lightly. you're out with friends and your social battery runs out? expect his voice in your ear, telling you he's ready to go. he'll always present it to the group you're out with like it's him that wants to go as well, never forcing you to be the center of attention. he knows you wouldn't like that.

husband!wyk!sukuna tucks you so tightly to his chest while you sleep that you can't even get up to use the washroom in the middle of the night. and don't think about waking him up either, he gets so grumpy the moment he's half-awake and thinks you're trying to get away from him. and in case you're wondering, yes, summers are hell. you do need to get a/c.

husband!wyk!sukuna longs for nothing more than simplicity in life. nothing helps him wind down from a long day more than laying his head on your chest while you read, but he certainly won't turn you down either if you run your hand through his hair. he enjoys the silence, and finds joy in doing absolutely nothing, in particular if you're there with him. the greatest treasure for someone who once carried the weight of the world on his shoulders is doing nothing with the person he loves most.

husband!wyk!sukuna makes sure you know how much he loves you. he writes it on your skin in kisses and hickeys. he knows he isn't always the best with emotions, or showing his love, and he particularly knows his eloquence dissolves when it comes to words. sex with you isn't just about pleasure for him. it's the one moment where he feels like he knows what he's doing and can genuinely please you. maybe it's crass, but it lets him show you his love for you how he knows best, physically.

husband!wyk!sukuna is extremely secure with you. he trusts you to the ends of the earth, but that doesn't mean he doesn't like the look of hickeys on your skin. the sly bastard loves to show them off too. you've covered them in makeup? nope. he'll whisk you away for a makeout session and make a point of smudging the makeup, much to your dismay. yes, even at work. to him, it's about the way his love is written in the language that husband!wyk!sukuna knows best.

husband!wyk!sukuna is a quiet lover. You need to read between the lines at times to find the signs, but they're always there and he'll never let a day go by without showing you, even if he rarely uses words.

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ephemeralinstance · 2 months ago

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Solas and physicality

Given what we learn about Solas' origins in Veilguard, it stands to reason that he must have a complicated relationship with his body and physicality. His body was made from the blood of another living creature, as part of events that started a terrible war; he must have a lot of shame about it.

This is one of the reasons why I don't personally envision his relationship with Mythal as being sexual in nature. I think it would have taken him a long time to be ready for that kind of physical connection. He was holding on the idea that he didn't take a body for his own selfish ends, he did it to help; using his body to experience pleasure would have felt like a betrayal of that. And it seems to me that up until his rebellion he still viewed himself primarily as a wisdom spirit, not a man playing an active role in the affairs of the world, so having a physical relationship would have felt alien to what he thought he was.

After he rebelled, I imagine things changed somewhat. If nothing else, I can envision him realizing that he could use his sexuality as a tool to gain allies and supporters. And it's easy to imagine him growing to feel pride in his prowess in that area. But I wonder if part of him was still ambivalent, still holding back. After all, if the romance description at the start of Veilguard is to be believed, he had never fallen in love before meeting Lavellan.

And in fact, we can still see vestiges of discomfort with physicality in the man we meet in Inquisition. We know he has a sweet tooth, and the ball at Halamshiral tells us he enjoys good food and drink, but his World of Thedas entry mentions that he didn't eat very much. That reads to me like a man who still feels shame around his body and around experiencing physical pleasure.

In my mind, this is one of the reasons why his connection with Lavellan means so much to him (and why I personally do envision them as having a sexual relationship during Inquisition). His love for her is spiritual but also physical: the spirit and the man, finally united. She takes the shame away, allowing him to feel at peace with what he is now, at least temporarily. His body cannot be a shameful thing if it is what allows him to connect in this way with her. No wonder he can be so sure that his feelings for her will never change: she helped him take the first steps toward healing something that he never even realized needed healing, and no matter what happens he will never forget that.

#solavellan #dragon age #solas #solas dragon age #solas meta #partly inspired by baphometsss' post yesterday!#used her for simplicity but applies to all genders of Lavellan of course!

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catcake24 · 5 months ago

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Celebrations

Summary: based on the Mecha Pilot Jazz Au by @keferon and inspired by the holiday season, primarily Christmas since that is the holiday I personally celebrate every year. JazzProwl fic, mostly fluff.

From what Jazz could tell, it had been roughly a year and a half since he had been flung into space and inadvertently made first contact. So much had happened, it was hard to believe it was so little time – but at the same time, he knew how moments could stretch out into what felt like days.

He had only been outed as an alien organic a few months ago, but he had settled into a new routine. It was hard sometimes, to get all your needs in a base designed for giant robots, but he managed. He had managed for all those months even before he was found out.

But there were still things that couldn’t be recreated out in space – like the holiday celebrations.

It wasn’t anything fancy, but everyone back home that had to be on call during the holidays would put together a little party of their own. They couldn’t get smashed or do anything too stupid, but the white elephant games and helping to a light a Menorah for the first time was good enough.

It gave him the warm fuzzies, along with the worst food coma he’s ever had after eating too much holiday food from the potluck.

But out here? He didn’t even know what kind of holidays Cybertronians had, if they even did have them. He assumed they gotta, but either weren’t celebrating, or this was one of those things that they did on a much longer calendar than a human one.

It was lonely to be the only human, even surrounded by his friends, and the lack of shared holidays just made that worse.

“What’s on your processor?” Prowl asked, jarring Jazz out of his sleepy daydreaming thoughts. He had dozed off a little, and was thinking of the lights and snow from back home.

“Oh, it’s nothing Prowler,” Jazz said with a smile, “just thinking of home.”

“Hmn,” Prowl said, contemplative expression on his metal face. It was very handsome to see, when he was trying to work through a problem in his processor.

“It’s okay,” Jazz said, giving a pat to Prowl’s large hand near him. “I’m happy to be here, I just miss some things from home.”

Prowl shifted his attention away from his work, leaning on the desk. It was hard to describe just how large Prowl was sometimes, not just in physical size but presence. He could take up an entire room without even trying, drawing all the light towards him.

He was an absolute catch, even if he happened to be an alien older than dirt that could turn into a car. Sometimes Jazz wonders when the ridiculous became mundane, or how he was so lucky be able to know Prowl.

“Tell me about it,” Prowl said, looking at Jazz with a considerable expression.

Jazz hummed lightly as he thought about where to start, and decided that the holidays were a good place to start – as it was already on his mind.

“Well… around now, it would be winter, what we call the holiday season. We have so many different celebrations around that time, but my family -er, clan, always celebrated Christmas,” Jazz then looked up, considering how to explain it.

“Christmas is a festival, celebrated near the winter solstice – when the day reaches it’s shortest. There were a few different explanations for it, but it was mostly about giving eachother gifts, getting together with family, and eating food.”

“We also would string up lights across houses and buildings, since the days were so short it would light up whole streets. My folks used to walk up and down all of our neighbours, handing out sugar cookies,” he smiled to himself, remembering how his mom would bundle him up for the Washington winters and how he loved to watch all the houses with blinking lights, reflecting off the white snow.

“There were others too of course, but I still have a soft spot for Christmas,” Jazz admitted.

Prowl was listening intently, nodding along. “I see, we did similar things in Praxus before the war.”

Jazz perked up, “Really? What was it like?”

“Well… We celebrated once every half vorn. You see, Cybertron’s orbit around the sun was tilted in such a way that our city would be completely in darkness for periods of time. We celebrated the ends of those periods with a festival, where we would hang lights on the crystal gardens and bake crystal treats,” Prowl said, him having a turn at being wistful. "We all gathered together to see the sun rise after all the darkness, and we would have a day off to bask in the first new day."

Jazz smiled, “It sounds nice.”

Prowl nodded, “It was. I’m sorry you can’t attend your Christmas Festival, it sounds important to you.”

Jazz shrugged, “It’s okay, I’m happy to spend the time with you.”

Prowl smiled then, rare and soft and genuine. It couldn’t replace what Jazz missed, but it did help a little.

#mecha pilot jazz au #mecha pilot jazz #transformers au #jazzprowl #tf jazz #tf prowl #maccadam #maccadams #transformers #my writing #my fanfic #not my au #holidays #christmas #nostalgia

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buryhny · 3 months ago

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One Night Stand ; 43 ⋆.

➥ rundown ; as if the unexpected twist of a one-night stand turning out to be your CEO boss wasn't surreal enough, the situation takes a more challenging turn when both of you discover that you're expecting his child.

→ genre ; enemies to lovers | CEO au | pregnancy trope | slowburn

☆ jungkook x y/n ☆ contains smut, fluff and angst ☆ chapter forty three ; wc | 5.4k

primarily on Wattpad

index ⇢ next chapter

Jungkook is quiet, hasn't said a word, not even a hum, and it's seriously bothering you. He is seated right next to you in the lounge, the silence is unsettling and worrying. This isn't like him, and it frightens you. Turning to him, you ask for what feels like the hundredth time,

"Hey, please tell me what's wrong." he gives you the same answer, "I'm fine y/n, it's nothing." His sudden behavior change is worrying. He was so happy and excited when you two were about to leave for the airport, but something must've happened to make him leave the house with such a gloomy look like something was bothering him.

In Jungkook's mind, there's a storm of thoughts eating away at him. Why would your mom say something like that to him? And even if she did, why did it have to be so hateful? He just can't wrap his head around why she pretended to care about him while feeling so low about him all along. he keeps thinking about what she said and he can't help but feel afraid of everything now. he's hurt, hurt that he thought he could find a mother figure in his life and she ended up pretending?

Jungkook keeps thinking about it over and over again and it only makes him furious. You've explained everything to your parents, what your relationship status is too and even though your mother is aware of all the ups and downs and how you both are starting slow, she spoke to him so rudely? His frown gets even deeper, and it makes you so uneasy you can't even figure out why he might be upset. You don't want to bother him with a bunch of questions, so you just stay quiet and wait for him to talk when he's ready.

When you both board the flight and take your seats, Jungkook helps you adjust your seatbelt without saying a word. Then, he puts out his hand for you to hold as the plane takes off. That small gesture is a relief—it's obvious he's not mad at you, at least. Now and then, you peek over to look at him, only to find him asleep. A few times, he caught you staring and asked if you needed anything or had to rush to the bathroom again,

but you just shook your head to reassure him. when you think about it, the reason he must be upset could be that his birthday is coming soon, in just 3 days. after all, he's told you the whole tale of his life and what a nightmare it had been with his ex-girlfriend, on the day of his birthday. You're uncertain, but even the small chance of it being the reason makes your heart. You have already been planning something special for his birthday and now,

you want to make it the best day of this year. this brings you some hope and a smile on your face when you think about all the little surprises you've made, you can't wait to get back home and prepare for it. secretly. the flight was long and Jungkook peeped many times to look over at you, to check if you were doing okay, feeling cold or hungry but you didn't care to ask the air hostess for food. you'll notice him looking so you would remove one side of the headphones and raise your eyebrows to which he shakes his head.

"you okay?" you ask, he nods at you and passes the chocolate he received from the staff to you. he doesn't eat sweets so whatever they offer him, he gives it to you so you can enjoy doubling the treats. "hey..." you murmur when he tries to rest back. "yeah?" he'll come forward. "you want mo-" "i', fine..." you interrupt him from questioning about food again. "I just want you to know that you can tell me anything." you whisper to which he deeply exhales. Jungkook doesn't know how to put this into words.

He doesn't want you to agree with your mother, but he also doesn't want you to resent her. After all, she's not entirely wrong. As a mother—and the mother of her only daughter—she has every right to worry about your future, especially given your traditional background. Her concerns aren't unfounded, no matter how much they might sting.

he gives you a tight smile and puts his hand over so you can hold it. and when you do, he leans in and kisses the back of your palm, leaving butterflies inside your stomach. The baby has been unusually active the past few days, and it fills you with a kind of warmth you can't describe. Every kick, every flutter—

it's like a secret language shared just between the two of you. You want Jungkook to feel it too, not just with his hand on your bump, but with every fiber of his being. You want him to truly connect, to let it sink into his heart and soul, the way it does for you. You know he'll agree when you ask, without hesitation, and his touch will be gentle, reverent even.

But you hope that after his birthday surprises, when he sees all the love and effort you've poured into making him feel special, he'll fully embrace this new chapter. You're certain that in those moments, he'll step into the role of the loving father he's always dreamed of being—the one he's never let himself believe he could be.

;

The ride back home was at 4;30 am and was heavy with silence, the kind that settled deep into your chest. But no matter how much you tried to hold it in, you couldn't resist the sudden urge to stay close to him or to at least feel his warmth so you placed your head on his shoulder. Jungkook flinched slightly but immediately relaxed, he caressed your hair and that made you smile.

You can't wait to be back home and to cuddle the man as you both share the same bed. "Bammie" you call out for the dog as soon as the doors open, you've missed the boy so much, even though it had been just a weekend getaway. Bam comes running to you both, jumping to greet you. "oh my god, he's getting the zoomies!!"

you exclaim and bend slightly to hold his paws. "oh my Bammie, come to mama!!" you walk to the couch so you can pet him because you can't bend down as you did before. His tail wags and his whines get loud as you walk beside him, Jungkook looks at the two of you and chuckles. He can't stay mad when you both look so cute, he wants to frame this moment so bad.

"my bam-bam, come here." he jumps on the couch and begins to lick you, making you a giggling mess. Jungkook places the luggage inside removes his coat and throws it away. He interrupts you two and straight walks into the kitchen to get himself a glass of water and juice for you. "Bammie, Bammie, Bammie!!" you murmur his name a couple of times, placing kisses all around his body like Jungkook does.

"you're the sweetest boy ever, aren't you? You're the cutest, right? Of course, you are!!" Jungkook didn't realize how much you missed bam and even though his mood was completely off, he still smiled at the sight of you two. "go to appa!" you push him to go to Jungkook while you remove your coats. the dog rushes to his owner and jumps near him, so Jungkook grabs his paws and kneels. "bam-ah"

he mutters and giggles at the ticklish licks the dog gives him. "go back to y/n." he gets on his feet and walks towards you. "y/n have this juice." he hands you a bottle of fresh strawberry juice. "thanks.." You glance at him and can't help but notice how exhausted he looks. You're tired too, but Jungkook's tension seems to weigh heavier, making the dark circles under his eyes far more prominent. You want to ease his burden somehow,

but you have no idea what's troubling him, and asking isn't an option since he doesn't respond. The two of you head upstairs to his room—or rather, the room you now share. You feel the need for a warm shower, imagining how much better it would make you feel. But then you see Jungkook pulling a suit from his closet, and that's when you're completely at a loss.

"hey? Where are you going?" you ask him in confusion, he glances over his shoulder and huffs. "work y/n. It's a Monday.." 'yeah of course you know it's a fucking Monday!!' "but you need some rest, you- you can go back to work freshly tomorrow." you tell him, you hear him exhale as he pauses his selection of tie for a minute before resuming. "I don't need rest, I'm fine."

his response says everything, he isn't speaking gently, he isn't looking at you, he isn't touching you and fuck, he doesn't call you by nicknames! "please take some rest, it was a long flight. You're not gonna be well." you murmur out of concern, you don't want him to overwork and he needs sleep, he barely closed his eyes the entire flight, you know he didn't sleep.

"I'm fine y/n! I am." this time his words were slightly louder than he usually is and you know, he's got some issue so you don't say anything anymore. If he is stubborn, then be it. "fine." you leave his room and lock yourself in the shower of your previous washroom. You're kinda frustrated and the way he responds isn't making things better.

You care for him but if he doesn't care for himself then it's not something you can help. You focus on pampering yourself so you walk into the shower and set a nice bubble bath. Until then you look for cake designs so you can plan something special for his birthday. You also have another surprise in mind that you can't do by yourself, so you text Hobi for some help.

y/n; Hey Hoba, how's everything? All well?

You strip your clothes and get comfortable inside the bathtub. Moans leave your lips at how perfectly warm the water is. It's exactly what you need after a 13-hour long flight. "Baby, you need to stop kicking me now. Let Mama relax," you mumble and giggle at the sight of the movement you can see, with your belly popping out of the bubbles.

Jungkook, on the other hand, is utterly frustrated with himself for speaking to you that way. It wasn't your fault for being worried about him. He can't stop replaying everything your mother said in his mind. The rude tone of her words no longer stings—it's what they imply that troubles him now. Does marriage even cross your mind?

He realizes there are still parts of you he doesn't fully understand. He knows you well, but not completely. The two of you haven't discussed the nature of your relationship yet, leaving him uncertain about where you stand. What gnaws at him most is the possibility that you might be feeling conflicted but choose not to tell him, all because he's intent on taking things slow.

He doesn't want to upset you but he also can't change his mood and feelings so fast. It is almost 6;30 am after he showered and took some rest, he decided to go to work and check everything since he left his staff to handle everything while he was away, he plans to come home early and sort things out by then. Jungkook adjusts his tie and walks out of the room, he peeps into your room and sees you freshly dressed in a crop top.

You are sleeping under the blanket and Bam sleeps beside you with his head on your neck. Jungkook knows that you're tired so he didn't want to disturb you, so he left for work after taking a long look at you and informed Maya to take care of you while he was away.

;

You woke up to the delicious smell of Korean food. It's about 1 pm, you had a good sleep since you were fucking tired. Your muscles feel so relaxed and the stretching was mm-hmm. you were about to step out of your room when you felt a striking pain in your back and feet. "fuck.." you slowly walked back inside the room and took a seat on the couch, applying some pressure to the areas that hurt. "dear..."

Maya enters your room with a knock and soon places the food on the glass table. "are you fine?" She asks, and you shake your head. "I'm fine—just some aches here and there." She nods in understanding, lifting your foot onto her lap and gently massaging it, bringing soothing relief to your cramps. "Here, have your lunch,"

she says, handing you a dish of bibimbap and kimchi, her smile warm and knowing. She's aware of how much you adore her cooking—it's always met with your praises. "Mmm, Maya... you're truly a gift from above!" you groan, your mouth full of rice and veggies, head falling back against the couch in bliss. It's not just the delicious food; the soft, comforting massage on your feet makes the moment pure perfection.

The plate sits on your bump, truly useful now that it's all big and round, it can hold much stuff! "how was the trip, dear?" she questions curiously. "oh it was messy, to begin with, but Then it was lovely, my parents were accepting- though it took them some time.." you say, recalling how nervous you both were at the doorstep, just how crazy it was the whole day, you wouldn't ever want to experience that in your life ever again.

it was horrific, way worse than the day you found out you were pregnant. It has to be the pressure and the worry of acceptance. Your parents are kind and open-minded, but also... are they that open-minded to accept your child for a mistake? That was the haunting question but anyway, it all ended pretty well so you're glad that it was all a 2-day thing.

Maya and you engage in a conversation about baby clothing and the other items that will be useful for the future, which you're supposed to shop for now. Your screen lights up with a response from Hobi.

Hoba; hey y/n!!! I'm good.

How are you and the little one?

y/n; all good, the little one is being very naughty.

Anyway hoseok, I want your help...

Hoba; say right away

You needed his help to surprise Jungkook, only a trustworthy friend could help and of course, it was him. so you shared the plan with him by text and told him all the details that you had.

Hoba; omfg i'm so down!!!!Just wait for it cheesecake, I'm gonna make this plan 100 times better.

You giggle at his response, he's a sweetheart and you're so glad you found a true friend here in Seoul. You plan the rest of the stuff that's needed for Jungkook's birthday because it's just 2 days away and there's quite a bit to do. You also need the staff's help so you tell Maya about what needs to be done and without any doubt she was already getting the items according to your color and taste. You want to do this for him.

Jungkook deserves so much, and if you can do something—just one little thing—that changes how he feels about birthdays, it'll be worth it. His hatred for them comes from so much pain, but love heals everything, right?

And you're going to show him that love wins every time. You'll give him all the love, care, and support to turn this one day into the best one he's had all year. It's not just you in on this, either. It's the two of you now. Your little one is part of the plan, too. This baby is going to change his life, no question, and you'll make sure it's for the better. Together, you're going to make this day unforgettable.

;

You spent the day like usual—binging TV series and playing with Bam. But what surprised you was when the doorbell rang. Glancing down from upstairs, you saw the staff answering it, and soon after, a couple of workers entered the house. Confusion set in as they started decorating the room you were staying in and moving your belongings to another one.

Maya caught your deepening frown and chuckled before explaining, "Sir wants to turn this room into a nursery! for the little one." That's when everything clicked. Of course, it made sense now. Your belongings were being moved to Jungkook's room, while the room you'd been staying in was being transformed into a nursery.

After all, it's the closest room to his—and now, yours too. You could not hold back the large smile that grew on your face. There's no way Jungkook was doing this. A nursery?!! So what- is everything set? Are you gonna be living with him? The baby too? You could not contain the happiness you felt, you could vomit sparkles, sprinkles and glitter. "Ma'am, we were told to ask your preferences for the decoration—the colors you'd like."

You didn't even think about it at first, your brain kind of lagging for a second. "Uh..." You're not the type to stick to the typical pink-for-girls, blue-for-boys thing. It doesn't make sense to you. You want your kid to love any color they want, no matter what. "Purple would be nice... I like purple." the workers had come to clear the area up so you can decide on which items go where and do the painting according to the colors you want.

Your stuff was arranged in the closet. It had been divided between Jungkook and you and honestly, that makes your stomach clench at how crazy that is. You're now sharing a room with him, entirely. Not just the bed but his closet and everything else.

It's becoming your room as much as it is his. Your plushies sleep on the bed because you didn't want them to be seated on the frame, plushies are meant to sleep with you and you can't sleep without your avocado. You wanted to be helpful too but Maya wouldn't allow you to take a step so you had to watch her arrange them with the other maids.

The closet seems full now and it's so lovely to see it becoming yours. Even though Jungkook had unknowingly brightened your day, a lingering worry still gnawed at you. He hadn't texted you all day, and that's just so not like him. You can't help but feel uneasy, but you try to push those thoughts aside. Instead, you focus on the nursery.

You're determined to make it lively, full of energy, and as colorful as possible. You start brainstorming, imagining bright shades of every color filling the space. But at the heart of it all, purple will take the lead. It's your favorite color, and it's soothing and comforting—something about it just calms you.

You picture soft purple walls and Jungkook and you stand beside the cot, cradling the little one to sleep while you two watch your newborn. It sounds like a dream, like a movie's ending and you can't wait for that day to come. Your hands caress your bump as you imagine lovely beginnings.

;

The night comes by and Jungkook returns home in exhaustion. He's drained out mentally and physically. he wants to talk to you about what your mother said to him but when he sees you walking fast towards him with utmost difficulty with that big bump of yours, he can't help but smile at that sight. "Jungkook!!! oh my god."

you hug his waist while he is removing his coat, and he giggles at your excitement, he knows exactly why you are all giddy and excited. "calm down, calm down there." "How can I?!! I forgot about a nursery until they knocked on the door. I- am so excited. so I think we; 're gonna do this with purple but I'll also like a splash of the other colors but- we make it pastel and-"

You keep on and on and Jungkook can't help but raise his eyebrows at the speed you talking. You're so excited, he sees it all over your face, your glowing and beaming and he loves this so much, he loves the look of happiness and excitement in you. it's crazy how his thoughts and anxiety just vanished into thin air when you ran towards him and hugged him.

he couldn't find the words to describe you but then he knew... you're light to his darkness, the energy to his lifeless body and heart and he can't tell how much you mean to him. he keeps looking at you go on and on about something he doesn't even know. what were you talking about again? Was it food? oh no no, you were talking about some colored pasta?

"shhh y/n...hey... take a breath." he says with a chuckle and you laugh too, taking some breaths because that was a train speed of talk. "we can talk about everything later... i- I need to freshen up." he murmurs and you nod. "yes- yes, please. god, you need to rest- did you have dinner? I think maybe ha-" "I'm okay... I'm okay....did you have dinner?"

he asks and you look around the room. "I was hungry-" "That's okay, I'm glad you had early dinner." he says with a smile. "I'll shower and then we can talk." you nod as you watch him walk upstairs while you grab yourself some water. you feel relieved that Jungkook came home with a smile and was also speaking much better than he was before.

you get some water for him too and walk upstairs after giving Bam some good night kisses and pats. "Jungkook I got you a glass of wa-" You enter the room to be met with a sleepy Jungkook. There he was, sprawled across the bed in exhaustion, One arm dangled off the edge of the mattress, while the other rested limply over his stomach.

The sheets were barely covering him, bunched up and crumpled around his legs as if he had tossed them aside in his sleep and the faint scent of his shampoo lingered in the air, still fresh from his shower. you melt at the sight of him, he was tired and in need of sleep. you have no idea why he was so grumpy and quiet but you think he might be better tomorrow once he'd gotten his hours of sleep. you place the glass on the bedside table,

remove the towel from his hand place it inside the washroom bar and turn off the main light. gently without disturbing him, you pulled the sheets from his feet to drape them over his body. Switching on the lamp, the room filled with a soft, warm glow. You slipped onto the bed beside him, careful not to disturb the peaceful rhythm of his breathing.

He looked so beautiful like this, lost in sleep. His lips were slightly parted, his face relaxed, and his hair, now free from the gel was an untamed mess, damp strands curling naturally against his skin. You couldn't help but reach out, letting your fingers gently brush his forehead. You smoothed his hair back, feeling the soft texture beneath your fingertips as you combed through the damp locks.

He stirred just slightly, leaning into your touch like it was second nature, but didn't wake. your fingers continue to caress his hair while you admire him, Jungkook stirred, shifting to his side, his movements slow and hazy, like his body wasn't entirely his yet. His eyes fluttered open, heavy-lidded and unfocused, blinking a few times as if testing the waking world.

He smacked his lips softly, the faint taste of sleep lingering on his tongue before his eyelids drooped again. you chuckle at that before turning to your opposite side so you can drift to sleep too. Jungkook shifts closer, nuzzling into your neck as his arm drapes over your waist in a lazy, possessive hold. A soft, contented sound escapes his lips, almost a moan, as he melts into the faint warmth your body offers.

You've always been the cooler half; his perfect contrast. Even with the air conditioner making your skin cold, your neck somehow retains a subtle warmth that he craves. He doesn't like warmth meeting warmth; as the naturally warmer one, he seeks the chill that balances him out.

Your body does it effortlessly, the coolness soothing him, grounding him, making him press closer like he's found the perfect spot in a restless world. Jungkook relaxes as he drifts to sleep immediately.

;

Jungkook was already gone to work by the time you woke up, he did leave you a message that having a couple of meets would keep him busy the entire day so you wished him luck on that and chose to keep yourself busy too with the birthday preparations.

as you give it s thought you kind of feel like Jungkook is intentionally keeping himself busy, could be because it's his birthday or another reason which you aren't aware of. Whatever it is, you hope he comes back home early. Or even if he does come late, you hope he won't sleep like he did yesterday, that would ruin all your plans that you've saved for midnight to surprise him on his 30th birthday.

Jungkook, on the other hand, doesn't even realize what day it is. He's completely unaware that tomorrow's September 1st, his birthday. He's too caught up in work, using it as a way to keep busy and avoid thinking about anything relationship-related.

Honestly, he's not ready to talk about that yet. He knows there's stuff to discuss, but he's still trying to wrap his head around it all. But even with everything going on, he can't help but look forward to the weekend. He wants to get through all the work so he can spend the days with you, doing something he's never done before, baby shopping.

He wants to shop for baby clothing, the cot, the toys and so much more, he doesn't even know what he's supposed to get but he wants to get it all. He also wants to discuss the whole nursery situation with you, the detailing and colors. There's just about a month left and there's so much to do. He wants to be in every step now, so he doesn't miss out on the last few weeks of your first pregnancy and his first fatherhood experience.

;

It's about 7 pm when the doorbell rings with your phone's ringtone at the same time. It hooks and you rush downstairs carefully to take the items from him and of course to see the man himself. "Hey Hoba!!" oh my goodness, y/n!"

he walks inside fast and places the cake and other bags inside the room that you told him to and then he jumps on you and gives you the biggest- yet mist gentle hug he could ever manage. "I'm so so so excited for you!!! Congratulations!!" you giggle at his words as he continues to give you one of the longest hugs he has given anyone in a long time.

"thanks hoba, thanks for everything-" "Oh shut up!! I'm so fucking happy you chose me to do all this arrangement for you." he pulls away and holds your hands. has got the brightest smile on his face, beaming with joy and happiness which radiates to you and makes you happy too. "and I'm forever grateful, no one could do all this except you. Thank you so much Hoseok!!"

you say and he nods at your words, his eyes lighting up but with so much love that you fail to see. "please call me in the morning!" "Oh I will!!!" you both laugh. "Mr. Jeon's house is beautiful, I mean what else can you expect from the CEO of jeon industries, I'm so not surprised." he mutters as his eyes look around the details and effort of the mansion his CEO built with his own money. "and- to have you. Jackpot." "Stop it."

you hit his arm, cracking in laughter again but a hue on your cheeks as a sign of blushing. "I think whatever Jungkook has now, he deserves it so much. I'm not talking about me, because to be deserving of him, I have to work harder-" "You don't have to," Hoseok murmurs, his voice softer than usual. You glance at his face and catch a glimpse of something in his eyes, sadness, maybe? You don't know why, but it's there, hidden behind a fleeting expression.

Then, he smiles, the warmth returning to his face as he looks at you. "He loves you for a reason," he continues, his words steady now, "and that's because you are you." He pauses, almost like he's reassuring himself too, before adding, "He deserves you, and you deserve him. That's all I know." His eyes shift to your belly, and his smile widens.

"And this little one? The luckiest baby in the world." You can feel the sincerity in his words, and you both smile at his words as you get to the kitchen to offer him some juice. "oh no no, I'm fine y/n please don't trouble yourself-" "just one juice-" "I need to leave y/n, I must go, I've got some work on the way." he insists so you nod and hug him bye at the doorstep.

Here you are, all alone in this massive mansion, feeling so pumped about everything you've got in the works. Jungkook texted to say he'll be late, and honestly, you're kind of glad. It means you don't have to rush or stress about hiding the surprise just yet. The orders are here, the deco is done and you're ready too. The enthusiasm everyone showed for Jungkook's birthday celebrations really highlights how much they all care about him.

They were so eager to help in any way they could and managed to make you feel even more excited about everything. It's a testament to how Jungkook treats them, they may be staff, but they truly admire and respect him as their boss. Their genuine love for him is evident in their words, actions, and the respect they show.

the genuine support and care they show you, proves that they don't just work here, they've built a wonderful relationship with you and the baby too. they're ever so excited to know the gender and you cant wait for the big reveal tonight and the morning when everyone is present.

you keep looking at the time, the clock strikes 9pm and its still ticking but there's no sign of Jungkook. you're well aware that he's busy but he should've been home way earlier. you try not to worry about it and look at the deco all over again, just in case there's any mistake even though you've already checked it for the 15th time of the hour.

The entire scene playing out in your mind feels so magical—him walking home after a long day, and you casually forcing him to shower downstairs because apparently something's wrong with the washroom you both share now.

He doesn't question it, changes into his casuals, and spends time with you like it's any ordinary evening, unaware of what you've planned. When the clock strikes midnight, you excitedly cover his eyes, wish him a heartfelt happy birthday, and guide him upstairs to the room you both share, where everything you've prepared is waiting.

The thought of his reaction and the little details of the moment make you giggle just thinking about it. And then, right on cue, you hear the main door open—and he walks in, just as you imagined. or maybe not....

next chapter ⇢

hope you enjoyed this chap, let me know how you feel about this chap in the comments!

#one night stand #bts #bts fanfic #btswritersclub #jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook smut #buryhny

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