#Four Rings Performance

[i2sunric]

𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐒 𝐈 𝐂𝐀𝐍’𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐃 (l.hs)

p.s. ─────── ୨ৎ ────── i already did

PAIRING: boss!heeseung x employee!reader (f)

SUMMARY: who knew an email sent in a moment of range could spark a burning desire between you and your boss?

WARNINGS: 95% smut 5% plot. fingering, dirty talk, reader is burnout, semi public sex, oral (m receiving), blowjob, p in v, unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy), sex while on the phone, pool sex (not really narrated), missionary, riding, creampie, office sex; fluff, established relationship, reader wears a tiny bikini, lmk if more. NOT PROOFREAD.

PUBLISHED: 28th June 2025

WC: 9.4k

TAGLIST: (permanent) @stolasisyourparent @jaeyunsbimbo @jwnghyuns @bangtancultsposts @shawnyle @jooniesbears-blog @skzenhalove @ro-diaries @onlyhyunjin @xcosmi @strawberrhypen @heeheeswifey @jakeflvrz @astratlantis @tunafishyfishylike @branchrkive @insommni4 @kirinaa08 @leiclerc @nxzz-skz @laurradoesloveu @beomluvrr @heeshlove @17ericas @riribelle @cloud-lyy @enhamonsterghoul @star-hoon @princesstiti14

a/n: i’m so fucking sleepy i just wan to go to bed but hey! i’ve been dead on this app for sometime so lemme drop this. hope y’all like it and please LIKE & REBLOG to share + lmk your thoughts 🩷🩷 (enjoy my calligraphy in the picture).

It was one of those days.

The kind where your inbox filled up faster than you could breathe, the phones wouldn’t stop ringing, and the breakroom coffee had been left to die a slow, cold death in the pot since 8 a.m.

You hadn’t even had a chance to take more than two sips of yours— barely enough to take the edge off the brutal headache crawling behind your eyes.

Noon had come and gone, and your lunch sat forgotten in your drawer, untouched and already lukewarm.

You rubbed at your temples as you stared at the latest email that had just come in from her again— your personal tormentor for the past three weeks.

Mrs. Kim.

There she was, requesting the same impossible order you had already refused.

Not once. Not twice. Eight goddamn times.

You counted them.

You explained patiently and then less patiently that the items she wanted were discontinued, had been discontinued for two fiscal years now, and were no longer in the company’s catalogue.

You linked her to alternatives. You CC’d the product manager. You called her, even, and yet here she was again—

"Dear,

Following up again. I don't understand why this is taking so long. I’m requesting the original order from 2021. Can you process this today?"

That was it. The last thread of your patience snapped.

Your fingers flew across the keyboard, possessed, every keystroke a satisfying clack of indignation.

You didn’t care.

You were soaked in stress and caffeine and the fading hope of ever having a quiet afternoon.s

"Mrs. Kim,

For the last time: we do not carry that product anymore. I have told you this eight times. Eight. I don’t know if you’re ignoring me on purpose or just incapable of reading full sentences, but either way, I’m not wasting any more time repeating myself. Maybe go get yourself checked.

You are welcome to refer to the updated catalogue I sent you four emails ago. If that’s too difficult, I’d be more than happy to point you to someone who does have time to coddle unreasonable requests.

Kindly, please, stop emailing me about this.

— Y/N"

You clicked "Send" with a sense of righteous satisfaction.

A victorious breath left your lungs as you leaned back in your chair, folding your arms.

It wasn’t until ten minutes later that you saw the reply ping.

And then you saw who it was from.

Lee Heeseung

— Re: Mrs. Kim order.

Your blood turned to ice.

You forgot.

You completely forgot about the BCC—the default blind courtesy copy to your boss, a setting meant for transparency, accountability, and gentle professional oversight.

You’d set it up months ago during performance review season and then never gave it a second thought.

You clicked on the thread like you were opening your own coffin lid.

"Hi Y/N

Well… that was certainly a passionate response.

I think she noted on the product being discontinued.

Let’s circle back to this client later. maybe I can take over if needed.

For now, step away from your inbox and grab a coffee. Deep breaths. :)

— Heeseung"

Your stomach dropped so fast it might as well have hit the basement.

He didn’t even sound mad. That was the worst part. There wasn’t a single reprimand, not even a passive-aggressive comment.

He was giving you a chance to fix it yourself.

You stared at the screen for another full minute, then slowly stood, your legs weak as you grabbed your employee badge and took the elevator upstairs.

The executive floor was always eerily quiet compared to the chaos below.

Carpeted hallways absorbed all sound, and the scent of fresh espresso floated from the machine that Heeseung insisted on using himself every morning— never the breakroom sludge.

You walked past the glass meeting rooms, the sleek decor, until you reached the wide double doors that marked his corner office.

You paused. Knocked.

"Come in," came the voice. low, smooth, always relaxed in a way that somehow made it more intimidating.

You pushed the door open and stepped in, trying to keep your posture from crumpling into guilt.

Heeseung sat behind his desk, blazer off, sleeves rolled, laptop open. His eyes flicked up to you.

"Hey," he said, not unkindly. "Surprised you didn’t run straight to the fire escape."

You swallowed. “I… I’m so sorry, sir.”

His brow arched slightly, and he leaned back in his chair, folding his hands on the edge of the desk.

He didn’t say anything right away. Just waited, giving you enough silence to make your own words echo back at you.

“I didn’t mean for it to go out like that,” you rushed, nervous now, your throat tight. “I was just so— so overwhelmed, and she’s been driving me insane for weeks, and I know that’s no excuse, I just… I completely forgot the BCC was still on. I wasn’t trying to be unprofessional… well, okay, I was, a little, but I didn’t mean for you to see it, and that’s not better, I know, but—”

"Take a breath," he interrupted gently.

You did.

Inhale. Exhale.

He tilted his head, looking at you with a calm you were desperately trying to borrow.

"You clearly didn’t mean for me to see it," he said with a hint of dry humor. "That was obvious by the way you said, ‘incapable of reading full sentences.’"

You winced. “I know. I know, I’m so sorry, that was… I was just frustrated.”

"Yeah, I got that part loud and clear." He smiled faintly. "You know, if you’d added one more insult, I think the server might’ve flagged your email as harassment."

You dropped your face into your hands. “Oh my god.”

He laughed quietly.

It wasn’t cruel.

It was soft. Understanding.

Which only made the heat crawl up your neck worse.

"I’m not mad," he said, and you looked up, cautiously.

He stood, walking slowly around the desk to lean against the edge.

His arms folded casually across his chest as he looked at you.

"I’ve seen worse. Much worse. Hell, I’ve sent worse. You’re not the first employee to lose it on a client who doesn’t listen, and I doubt you’ll be the last."

"That doesn’t make it okay," you murmured.

"No, it doesn’t. But it makes it human. And it tells me you care enough to be pissed.”

That surprised you. You blinked up at hiem.

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "I don’t need perfection. I need people whoho get frustrated when things go wrong. But I also need people who can recognize when they’ve gone too far and come up to say what you just did."

You looked at the floor. “Still… I should’ve handled it better. She might report me.”

"She might," he agreed, not sugarcoating it. "But I’ll handle it if she does. I’ve got your back."

You swallowed hard. His voice was calm, but firm. Final. He meant it.

"Thank you," you said quietly. "Really."

"You’re welcome. And hey…" He pushed off the desk, walking toward the espresso machine behind him. "You didn’t have lunch yet, did you?"

Your stomach growled traitorously. He glanced over his shoulder and grinned.

"Didn’t think so. I’m ordering in. You’re having a rough day, so I’ll let you pick the place."

You blinked at him. “Are you… rewarding me for that email?”

He smirked. "No. I’m rewarding you for surviving the week without quitting or combusting, consider it a boss’s mercy."

You laughed, finally, the tension bleeding from your shoulders.

He handed you his phone with the food apps already open, the glow of the screen warm against your palm.

And as you scrolled through the options, still feeling the flush of embarrassment under your skin, you thought— maybe it wasn’t the worst day after all.

☆.

Today was the worst day.

It had already gone to hell by the time it hit 6:45 p.m.

You were the last person left on your floor. again.

The office was a graveyard of abandoned coffee cups and empty swivel chairs, the windows dim with evening light as the sun dragged itself under the horizon.

Everyone else had mysteriously developed urgent appointments or nonexistent deadlines that somehow meant they couldn’t stay late to help with the mountain of archival reports dumped unceremoniously onto your desk.

You were hungry.

Tired.

Your back ached from leaning over outdated filing codes, and your fingers were permanently smudged with printer toner and dust.

Your last message in the team group chat asking “anyone still around to help scan the last batch?” had been left on read.

Of course it had.

You swore under your breath, stuffing another stack into the ancient office printer that had already groaned at you three times.

The stupid thing was older than your internship

. It made this grinding, death-rattle sound every time you asked it to scan anything double-sided. You were halfway through cursing at it when the overhead lights flickered once.

Twice.

And then the power cut out completely.

A sharp click of darkness. Then silence.

You stood frozen in place, fingers still on the edge of a document feeder. A beat passed. Then another.

You stared into the void, blinking, the only sound the faint tik-tik-tik of the unplugged printer slowly powering down like it was dying dramatically in your arms.

You sighed. “You have got to be kidding me.”

You waited. Surely the backup would kick in.

It didn’t.

The battery emergency lights flicked on around the hallway, casting everything in a soft red glow like the inside of a submarine.

Your entire floor looked apocalyptic.

It would’ve been funny if you weren’t thirty pages away from finishing and aching to get home.

"This is so stupid," you muttered to yourself. You paced around your desk, cracked your knuckles, and then, because the universe clearly had it out for you, tripped slightly on a cable.

You whirled around, eyes narrowing at the printer like it had personally insulted your intelligence.

You weren’t usually violent, but something about the whole day had ignited a very specific brand of frustration in your chest— the kind that made you want to break things. Or cry. Or both.

So when the lights buzzed for a brief second and the printer beeped at you with a snide error code for the fifth time in a row, you snapped.

“Alright, you boxy little demon,” you hissed. “Let’s dance.”

You kicked it.

You meant it to be symbolic. A warning. An expression of just how done you were.

Unfortunately, your foot caught the corner of the machine.

And because karma is very real and very punctual, your boot slid awkwardly through the paper tray, lodging itself inside the machine with a humiliating clunk.

“Shit,” you whispered, staggering forward and grabbing the desk for balance. “No, no— come on.”

You tugged. Nothing.

You yanked harder..

“Are you kidding me?” you groaned, now bent awkwardly sideways over the printer, one foot completely jammed in the lower tray, arms flailing for something to grab.

The evil machine wobbled, and you grabbed it to keep from tipping it over, your hair falling into your face as you tried to wiggle your leg free.

The overhead lights snapped back on all at once.

Power returned with an electric hum.

Machines came alive. Computers rebooted.

The lights flickered to life overhead like judgmental gods bearing witness.

And at that exact moment, you heard a door open down the hall.

You froze.

Slow footsteps. Leather shoes on carpet.

You knew that walk. You’d memorized it over the last few months without meaning to— those long, easy strides. That quiet confidence.

Lee Heeseung.

Of course he was still here. Of course he chose now to emerge from his corner office.

You tried to untangle yourself, but the paper tray refused to budge, your boot stuck in such a cursed angle you briefly considered removing your entire leg.

Heeseung’s voice was much too close when he finally spoke.

“…Am I interrupting something?”

You froze, eyes wide.

You didn’t even need to look at him to hear the amusement dripping off every syllable.

“I—” You cleared your throat. “No. I mean, yes. I mean— I’m fine.”

you finally risked a glance up… and there he was, standing a few feet away in his usual dress shirt and slacks, sleeves rolled halfway to his elbows, tie loose, a sleek laptop tucked under one arm.

His dark hair fell across his forehead in a way that was just unfair. And he was smiling. Very clearly trying not to laugh, but smiling.

“Should I even ask how this happened?” he said, gesturing vaguely at the situation.

You, half-folded over a printer like a modern art sculpture. One foot swallowed alive by outdated office equipment.

You groaned and dropped your head against the top of the machine. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

He chuckled under his breath, moving forward. “Alright.”

Your head snapped up. “Really? You’re not gonna ask why I did this?”

He raised an eyebrow. “It’s clear you have some anger management issues.��

You blinked at him. Well, he ain’t wrong.

He crouched down beside the printer, setting his laptop carefully on the floor. “Let me take a look, don’t move.”

“Oh yeah,” you deadpanned. “I’ve got so many options.”

He shot you a grin. “Careful. Keep being cute and I might leave you here.”

You flushed, instantly. “Sorry, Sir.”

“What?” he said, clearly enjoying this too much. “I’m just saying, I’ve never had an employee try to merge with office machinery before. It’s a new milestone.”

You buried your face in your hands as he gently maneuvered the paper tray open from the opposite side, humming softly to himself.

“Alright,” he said after a moment. “I see the problem.”

“Is it me?”

“Mostly.” He grinned, grabbing onto the corner of the tray and wiggling it slightly. “But also, this machine is trash. You were absolutely justified in assaulting it.”

You bit back a laugh. “Don’t tell HR.”

“HR’s gone home. And besides, I’m the one you report to.”

You paused. “So you’re saying I could commit minor office crimes and get away with it?”

He glanced up at you from under his lashes, dark eyes amused. “I’m saying if anyone’s going to report you, it won’t be me.”

The tray finally released with a snap, and your boot came free all at once, nearly sending you toppling backward. Heeseung caught your arm before you could fall, his grip warm and steady.

“There we go,” he said, helping you balance. “Foot intact?”

“Barely,” you mumbled, brushing your hair out of your face. You looked down at your scuffed boot, then back up at him. “I think we might need a new printer.”

He smirked. “I think you need a break.”

You hesitated. The words hit harder than they should’ve.

Because he was right.

You’d been drowning lately, taking on every overflow task, every weekend shift, picking up the slack whenever someone else dropped the ball.

You hadn’t complained. Not out loud.

But your body was exhausted, your head full of static, and your foot was living proof that you were about five seconds from completely losing your mind.

Heeseung must’ve seen it in your face, because his expression softened.

“Hey,” he said gently. “You don’t have to keep doing everything on your own.”

You looked away. “It’s fine. Everyone’s busy. I can handle it.”

“Just because you can doesn’t mean you should.”

There was a silence. A long one. He stepped a little closer.

“I’ve been watching you,” he said softly. “Not in a creepy way— just… I see how hard you work. How you take on more than you’re asked to, how you stay late every night, even when it’s not your responsibility. You think that goes unnoticed?”

You swallowed. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It is to me,” he said. “You don’t have to burn yourself out to prove you belong here.”

The words hung between you, heavy and warm and real.

You finally looked up at him and found him already watching you, his gaze steady, thoughtful.

You felt something in your chest shift. Something small, quiet, and undeniable.

Heeseung smiled gently. “Come on, I’ll buy you dinner, you’ve earned it.”

You blinked. “You’re bribing me with food.”

“I’m rescuing you from this cursed printer,” he corrected. “It’s part of the job description.”

You laughed, a real one this time, and let him lead you away from the graveyard of scanned archives and haunted machinery.

His hand brushed yours as you walked side by side out of the office, and neither of you moved away.

☆.

You hadn’t expected anything beyond some greasy takeout and maybe a few jokes to soften the edge of your embarrassment.

But somewhere between the second round of dumplings and Heeseung trying to guess what playlist you put on when you're really mad, something shifted.

You found yourself laughing more easily than you had in weeks.

He was funny in a sly, dry sort of way— casual but sharp, with this low warmth in his voice that made everything he said sound like it had a double meaning.

Not that he was flirting.

Not exactly.

But there was something in the way his eyes lingered on yours a second too long after every shared joke, something in the way his thumb brushed too casually along the rim of his cup when you took a sip of yours and left a glossed fingerprint behind

And you weren’t exactly not leaning in when he talked.

When you came back to the building, it was after an hour, There was a kind of stillness that made your footsteps echo across the marble floors and made the flicker of vending machine lights look cinematic.

He’d offered, half-jokingly, to let you finish up your work in his office, because his A/C actually functioned, and his desk chair didn’t creak like it was on the verge of collapse.

You said yes. Obviously.

Heeseung unlocked his door and held it open for you.

His office smelled faintly like citrus, due to the candle lit in the corner, and something a little woodsy, probably the cologne that clung to his shirtsleeves.

The overhead lights were dimmed low, and the view from the floor-to-ceiling windows behind his desk stretched out into the city, glittering in the dark.

You stepped in and paused, suddenly aware that you were somewhere very personal. It was tidy, precise.

You turned to thank him, but he was already watching you from the doorway, his hands in his pockets.

“Take the desk,” he said, smiling softly. “I won’t even be mad if you kick it.”

You smirked and dropped your bag onto the guest chair. “Don’t tempt me.”

He moved past you, loosening his tie the rest of the way and tossing it onto the coat rack.

The click of his laptop followed, and then music— something R&B and low enough that it almost felt like background noise to the silence around you.

You settled behind his desk, relishing the cool burst of air from the functioning A/C vent. The chair was absurdly comfortable.

You kicked off your boots and leaned back with a soft sigh of relief.

“Better?” he asked from his corner.

You nodded. “Miles better. I might not leave.”

He raised a brow. “Is that a threat or a promise?”

There it was again— that something.

just enough weight behind the words to make you pause. His voice had dropped half a note lower.

You reached for the folder you’d been working on earlier that you brought there, suddenly conscious of the faint buzz under your skin.

You tried to focus on your work, but your mind kept slipping.

The room was warm now, and so was the space between you, too heavy with something unsaid. Every glance he gave you seemed a little longer, like he was debating something in real time.

You looked up from the folder and found him leaning against the edge of the window, arms folded, watching you.

“You’re different when you’re not in the middle of a crisis,” he said.

You blinked. “What do you mean?”

“You’re quieter, but in a good way. Like you finally have room to breathe.”

Your heart gave a small, unwanted flutter. “Is that your way of saying I’m usually too stressed out to function?”

“No.” He stepped closer. “It’s my way of saying I like seeing you like this.”

The space between you collapsed by inches.

He was standing just on the other side of the desk now, one hand resting lightly on the polished wood, eyes locked on yours.

The city lights outside were a soft blur behind him. Your breath caught, stuck in your chest.

“Heeseung…” you started, uncertain. Because somewhere between fries and dumplings, he gave uou the green light to call him by his first name.

“I’m not trying to mess with you,” he said softly, cutting you off without force. “But I’d be lying if I said I haven’t been thinking about this… about you.”

You swallowed. The tension had shifted into something tangible now.

It pooled in your belly, a tightness threaded with heat. You felt it in the curl of your toes against the carpet, in the quick, darting beat of your pulse.

“I wasn’t sure if I was imagining it,” you murmured.

“You weren’t.”

You stood slowly, the chair gliding back with a soft scrape.

He didn’t touch you yet.

“I meant what I said,” he said, voice low and even. “I’ve seen how much you carry. You work so damn hard, and no one ever makes space for you to just be. I want to do that, even if it’s just for tonight.”

There was something deeply sincere in his voice. Like this wasn’t just wanted. It was something more careful. Something he’d been holding back.

You stepped into his space, breathing shallow, and said, “Then show me.”

The moment he touched you, it was with a reverence that made your knees weak.

His fingers grazed your jaw, tilting your face up.

He paused, just long enough to make sure— long enough to let you lean in first. And when you did, he kissed you like he meant it. Like he’d been waiting.

His mouth was warm and slow against yours, lips parting gently, breath mingling. His hands found your waist, grounding and sure, pulling you closer.

You curled your fingers into the collar of his shirt, the soft cotton warm from his skin. He deepened the kiss gradually, coaxing you into it, tasting the hesitation out of your mouth until you melted into him.

When you finally broke apart, you were breathless.

He leaned his forehead against yours. “Still okay?”

You nodded. “More than okay.”

“Good,” he murmured. “Because I’m not done.”

He walked you backward toward the desk, hands steady on your waist, until you were pressed against the wood.

He kissed your neck softly, then more deliberately, leaving a slow trail to your collarbone as his hands skimmed under the hem of your blouse.

You gasped when his fingers touched your skin, warm and unhurried, exploring every inch like he wanted to memorize it.

You reached for his belt, nerves trembling with anticipation.

He caught your wrist gently “Let me take care of you,” he said, voice like velvet.

You nodded.

He moved with purpose now, pulling your blouse off with a soft sound of approval, eyes dark as they raked over you.

He leaned you back over his desk, fingers gliding down your hips, lifting you slightly onto the surface. The wood was cool under your thighs, the air sharp against your skin.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer.

His mouth returned to yours with renewed urgency, hands trailing over every curve, every line, until you were sighing against him, your fingers tangled in his hair.

When he finally undressed you fully, it wasn’t rushed.

It was deliberate. Worshipful.

He pressed kisses to the inside of your thighs, your hips, your ribs, like he was chasing every sigh that left your mouth.

And when his hands finally slipped lower, when his fingers teased and stroked and coaxed you into a slow, building pleasure, you arched under him, gasping his name.

“Heeseung— oh—”

He smirked, slipping a finger inside you, and then a second one.

You were so worked up already, your thighs trembling around his waist as he pressed kisses on your neck.

“Fuck,” you sighed, “Faster.”

“Milady.” he complied, hurrying his fingers, curling them right where you needed them.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered. “Let me hear you, let go.”

And you did.

You came undone with your back arched off his desk and his name on your lips.

Later, as he tucked you into his chair with your shirt back on and a glass of water in your hand, he knelt beside you, brushing your hair gently from your face.

“Still okay?” he asked again, voice soft.

You nodded, eyes fluttering closed. “Better than okay.”

He smiled, his thumb brushing your cheek.

“I meant it, you know,” he murmured. “Whatever happens after this— I want to be the one who makes space for you.”

You reached for his hand, lacing your fingers through his.

“I think you already are.”

☆.

It had started with an email. And it continued with an email now too.

You were half-conscious, running on your second cup of coffee and buried in quarterly reports, when your inbox pinged with that familiar chime.

Most emails in your morning queue were mind-numbing— reminders from admin, updates on broken copy machines, requests to “circle back” on things that no one ever wanted to circle forward in the first place.

But this one was from Heeseung.

The subject line read:

urgent file request – please review ASAP

Your stomach twisted the way it always did now when his name popped up on your screen. A quiet, breathless little flip.

You clicked it open, expecting a report or some scanned doc he wanted reviewed.

Instead, you found:

From: Lee Heeseung

To: You

Subject: urgent file request – please review ASAP

Can you come to my office and check if the file I’m thinking about is tucked between your thighs?

Might need to examine it closely.

Very closely.

– H.

You nearly choked on your coffee.

Heat rushed to your cheeks and your neck as you jerked your head up— he was in his office, of course.

Glass walls, the blinds open. He was pretending to be on a call, holding the phone to his ear, nodding, totally composed.

But when your eyes met his, he winked.

The phone probably wasn’t even on.

You sunk a little lower in your chair, your thighs tightening automatically.

That look he gave you set off a ripple down your spine.

It had been three weeks since the first time he pulled you across that desk and showed you just how good things could feel.

Since then, everything between you had changed.

You still worked. Still got things done.

but now, when he passed by your desk, he let his fingers brush your shoulder a little too casually. When he asked you to stay late for “filing,” the door always locked behind you. And now, apparently, he was taking it to email.

You typed back before you could second-guess it:

From: You

To: Lee Heeseung

Subject: RE: urgent file request – please review ASAP

Sorry, that file is confidential. You’ll have to check with your hands. or tongue.

I’m available in five.

— Y/N

You slipped into his office with a folder in your hands purely for cover.

He was seated behind his desk, jacket off, shirt sleeves rolled up to his forearms. The city glared behind him in the afternoon light, and his laptop was open— but he barely glanced at it when you stepped inside.

He leaned back, dark eyes dragging over you from head to toe.

“Lock the door,” he said quietly.

You did. And closed the curtains for privacy.

When you turned back around, he was already on his feet. He crossed the room in a few slow steps, standing in front of you, taking the folder out of your hands and setting it blindly on the shelf.

He cupped your face, tilting it up, and kissed you without hesitation.

It was slow at first, teasing— his lips soft, mouth coaxing yours open as if he had all the time in the world.

You sighed into it, your hands going instinctively to his waist, curling into the soft cotton of his shirt.

The kiss deepened, his tongue stroking over yours, and you whimpered softly when he slid a hand down your back and pressed you against the door.

“Lord,” he murmured, mouth brushing against yours, “you taste like cinnamon today.”

You swallowed hard. “Too much coffee.”

“Perfect amount,” he whispered, and kissed you again.

He backed you toward his desk, trailing kisses from your mouth to your jaw, down the line of your neck.

Your hands fumbled with his buttons, needing him closer, needing something to fill the ache that had been growing ever since that first email.

When he sat down in his desk chair, he pulled you into his lap without asking.

You straddled him, your skirt already hiked up. His hands settled on your thighs, slow and warm, thumbs stroking upward.

“You always get so worked up when I tease you,” he murmured against your ear. “You like getting those emails?”

You nodded, breath hitching. “You’re going to get me fired.”

He laughed softly, low in his throat. “No one’s firing you. Not when you do such a good job to me.”

You kissed him again and rocked forward just enough to hear the sharp inhale he tried to swallow down.

His grip on your hips tightened. You could feel him through his slacks, warm and firm beneath you, and the pressure of your body against his made your skin feel hot all over.

He tried to pull your blouse open, but you caught his wrist.

“Let me,” you said, voice just above a whisper.

His breath stilled.

You slipped off his lap, slowly, sinking down between his legs.

His brows lifted, mouth parted, but he didn’t say a word.

Just leaned back in the chair, eyes locked on yours, pupils blown wide with heat.

You reached for his belt with shaking hands, fingers slow and deliberate.

The clink of metal filled the quiet room, followed by the soft drag of his zipper. Heeseung exhaled hard when you brushed him through his boxers, already hot, already thick.

“You’ve been thinking about this all day, haven’t you?” you said, looking up at him as you lowered his waistband.

He let out a breathy laugh, voice tight. “Are you really going to make me beg?”

You smiled.

“No.”

And then you took him in your mouth.

He groaned instantly, his hips twitching up, one hand flying to your hair but stopping short of gripping it.

Always waiting for you to take the lead. Always making sure.

You hollowed your cheeks, taking him deeper, tongue gliding along the underside, savoring the weight and heat of him. He cursed, low and raw, his other hand tightening around the edge of the chair.

“Fuck—” he breathed. “You’re too good at this.”

You hummed around him in response, and he shuddered.

The thrill of having him like this, head tipped back, jaw clenched, breath uneven, sent sparks through your veins.

His thighs flexed under your palms, and when you looked up at him, his eyes were half-lidded and glazed, locked on you like you were the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

“Baby, wait—” he said suddenly, voice cracking. “You keep going like that, an I’m not gonna last.”

You pulled back slowly, your mouth wet, lips swollen. “Isn’t that the point?”

He blinked hard, laughing breathlessly, and pulled you to your feet.

“I’m going to owe you for that,” he said, voice rough, still out of breath.

You climbed back onto his lap, letting him tug you close. His hands found your hips again, holding you there like he never wanted to let go.

“You already do,” you whispered against his mouth.

And when he kissed you this time, it was slower. Deeper.

Less urgent, more full. Like he wasn’t just thanking you with his mouth, but promising something.

His fingers slipped beneath your skirt again, and this time you didn’t stop him.

He pulled your panties to the side and you sank down on him with a sigh.

“Holy shit,” he groaned, already thrusting up into you “You feel like heaven, baby,”

You hummed, already squeezing around him “You’re so big.” you murmured, resting your head in the crook of his neck.

You felt him twitch inside you “You can’t say things like that.”

Heeseung glanced at the clock on the wall. “We have three more minutes before someone gets suspicious.”

“Then you better hurry.” as those words left your lips, Heeseung thrusted up fast and hard, chasing both of your highs.

He planted a hand on your mouth and held your waist with the other, so tight a bruise would probably form the following day.

You squeezed your eyes shut as white washed over you, a particular deep thrust getting you over the edge, tightening to the point of pain around him.

“Fuck.” he groaned and pulled out to jerk off, but you quickly slapped his hand away and put him back inside you.

The mere action caused his hot release to spill, coating your walls.

“You didn’t have to do that.” he said, breathless as you got up on wobbly legs and put your panties into place.

“Oh please.” You fixed your hair “You’d rather me havig to explain why there’s a white stain on my skirt?”

He smirked, tucking himself back in his trousers, “Touché, baby.”

☆.

California sunlight spilled golden through the glass balcony doors, bathing the entire suite in that soft, lazy kind of warmth that made your skin glow even when you weren’t trying.

You were floating in the center of the hotel room’s private pool, limbs stretched out on the flamingo inflatable mattress, sunglasses slipping slightly down the bridge of your nose.

Your legs dangled in the cool water, barely kicking, your only real effort being adjusting your position every few minutes to stay in the shade of the swaying palm tree outside.

It had taken you exactly one hour on the first morning of the trip to finish the task Heeseung had “urgently” brought you to California for: color-coding and organizing his meeting schedule and dinners with clients.

One hour.

Sixty minutes of tapping at your laptop while sipping overpriced coffee from the mini bar and watching your boyfriend move shirtless around the suite while on a call.

Then, nothing.

The rest of the two-week “business trip” had been one long, uninterrupted vacation— for you, at least.

You weren’t entirely sure if Heeseung had ever actually needed your help or if he just wanted an excuse to bring you along without raising eyebrows at the office.

Either way, you weren’t complaining.

He was in the bedroom now, getting ready for another meeting with suppliers, while you basked in complete, indulgent peace, a mango drink resting on a floatie beside you.

The silence was broken only by the soft splash of water and the hum of light music playing from the speakers in the corner of the suite.

“Baby,” Heeseung called from inside the room, his voice slightly muffled.

You lifted your sunglasses with one hand, squinting toward the balcony door. “Hm?”

“Where’s my tie? The navy one.”

“You mean my navy one,” you corrected, smirking. “The one you let me use for my aesthetic outfit.”

He emerged into view then— black slacks hugging his legs, crisp white shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest, and his hair still wet from the shower.

He looked at you, at the pool, the view, the drink, and let out a breath that sounded halfway between a sigh and a laugh.

“You’re telling me you brought it just to never actually use it; since you’ve been floating for a week.”

“No,” you replied, raising your drink. “I brought it for aesthetic purposes. I was actually planning on using it today.”

He shook his head with a grin, disappearing for a couple of minutes before reappearing with the tie in hands.”

“You’re the most spoiled assistant I’ve ever hired.”

“I’m not technically your assistant,” you pointed out.

“You were for an hour.”

“And I was excellent.”

He crouched down beside the pool, tying the silk around his neck with practiced fingers.

The way he stood in the sun, looking so put-together and elegant while you floated in a barely-there swimsuit, made the corners of your mouth twitch up in appreciation.

He caught the way you were looking at him and raised an eyebrow. “What?”

You tilted your head, letting your fingers drag through the water. “Just thinking.”

“Dangerous.”

“Just remembering how I was supposed to be working on this trip.”

Heeseung stepped closer, knelt down again so your faces were almost level. The sun lit up his eyes, made the edges of his smirk gleam.

“You did,” he said. “You organized my entire schedule in an hour and got me a better restaurant reservation than the company’s PR manager could. You're essential.”

You scoffed. “Please, you just wanted an excuse to have me in a bikini while you take calls.”

He smiled wider, unapologetic. “Guilty.”

You watched him adjust his tie, watched how he paused to smooth his shirt over his stomach before finally stepping back with a low whistle.

“How do I look?” he asked.

You pulled off your sunglasses, dragging your eyes from head to toe and back again.

“Like you’re about to cheat on your fiancée with your poolside mistress.”

Heeseung let out a bark of laughter. “Good thing my girlfriend is also my poolside mistress.”

He walked over to your float and, with no warning, shoved it gently with his foot.

You yelped as the mattress tipped slightly, water splashing over your legs.

“Rude!”

“You started it,” he said, lips twitching with amusement.

You kicked water at him in retaliation. He dodged it, barely, and pointed at you like he was scolding a child. “Do not make me cancel this meeting.”

“I dare you.”

He gave you one last look, long and deliberate, like he wanted to say something but was holding back, then sighed and backed away.

“I’ll be back in two hours,” he said, glancing at his watch. “Three tops.”

“Don’t hurry on my account.”

“You saying you won’t miss me?”

“I’m saying you should make it up to me for dragging me across the country and making me do sixty minutes of labor.”

He chuckled again, stepping into his loafers by the door. “Oh, baby, I plan on making it up to you every night.”

You raised your glass. “I’ll hold you to it.”

Then the door closed, and he was gone.

You sighed deeply, happily, as you turned your face toward the sun and whispered, “Best fake job ever.

☆.

The sun had shifted from blazing overhead to a slow, golden creep across the hotel balcony, casting palm leaf shadows over your stretched-out body on the poolside chaise.

The water made soft sloshing noises nearby, and the air carried the sweet, heady scent of chlorine and sun-warmed skin.

Your cocktail glass sat empty on the tile. Your fingers had gone limp around your sunglasses, which had slid just enough to let one eye peek through.

But you didn’t move. You were somewhere between sleep and heat-drunk bliss, limbs too heavy to care.

The faintest breeze kissed your thighs, cooling the warm sheen of sun on your bare legs.

The strap of your bikini had shifted slightly. Your breasts curved gently out of their fabric prison, unnoticed by you in your half-dozing state.

The suite’s private pool was wrapped by stone walls and the tallest hedges you’d ever seen. The kind of privacy only the wealthiest or most mischievous sought after. No one could see in. And you didn’t expect anyone to be watching.

But someone was.

You stirred when you heard the creak of the glass door sliding open behind you.

Then footsteps.

Then a pause.

“Jesus Christ,” came a voice “This is what I come home to?”

You cracked one eye open, squinting up into the dusky light.

Heeseung stood by the edge of the pool, jacket off, tie loosened, top two buttons undone, a grocery bag of overpriced room snacks in one hand.

His eyes were dark. Hungry. Like he hadn’t had a sip of water all day and you were the first drop.

You blinked at him sleepily. “Hi.”

He dropped the bag. “Hi? That’s all you’ve got?”

“I was sleeping.”

“You were melting.” He moved closer. “You were— fuck, your tits are just out.”

You lifted your head, lazily looked down, and shrugged. “It’s your fault for buying me a swimsuit two sizes too small.”

“And I’d do it again,” he muttered, already crouching down in front of you.

You giggled, eyes fluttering closed again. “Good meeting?”

“Don’t care,” he said, brushing a hand up your thigh. “Missed you.”

You felt his fingers, warm and familiar, sliding over your skin.

You sighed. “I got tan.”

“You got delicious.”

You opened your eyes just as he leaned down, capturing your mouth in a slow, sun-warmed kiss.

His lips tasted faintly of mint and something sweet, and when he groaned softly against you, you felt it everywhere. You kissed him back lazily, smiling into it, dragging your fingers through his damp hair.

And then, because you couldn’t resist—

You shoved him.

Hard.

He didn’t have time to react. A yelp of pure, startled betrayal escaped his lips as he tipped backward, arms flailing, hitting the water with a spectacular splash.

You burst into laughter, doubling over on the chair, clutching your stomach as the water rocked with the force of his fall.

His head popped up seconds later, soaked and blinking, his once-perfect shirt plastered to his chest.

“You—” he sputtered, coughing once, glaring at you with water dripping from his lashes. “You menace.”

“I warned you not to flirt near the pool!” you said between gasps, wiping your eyes.

He grabbed the edge of the pool, hair slicked back, mouth twitching in a way that should’ve warned you.

“You’re so dead,” he promised. “I’m gonna end you.”

You squealed and tried to scramble off the chair, but it was too late. his hands gripped your ankles and yanked.

You hit the water with a splash and a shriek, the cold shocking your overheated skin instantly.

You surfaced, breathless and gasping, blinking salt out of your eyes.

“You asshole!”

“You started it!” Heeseung was laughing, fully soaked now, his shirt and pants clinging to his body like a second skin.

He was unfairly hot, even wet. Especially wet.

You swam toward him with furious strokes, water flying around you both, and he caught you around the waist as soon as you got close enough.

“Say sorry,” he said, lips grazing your ear.

“Never.”

His mouth met yours before you could say more, hard and deep

He wrapped his arms around you beneath the water, pulling your body against his like he couldn’t bear the idea of even an inch of space.

The way his hands moved over your skin, palming your ass, your thighs, sliding beneath the useless scraps of your swimsuit, made your breath catch in your throat.

“You feel like summer,” he murmured against your neck. “Warm and soft and fucking perfect.”

You tangled your fingers in his hair and tilted your head back, your breath hitching when his lips traveled lower, kissing a slow trail down your jaw, then your collarbone. The water lapped gently around you, your bodies floating in the privacy of the pool, lost in each other.

When he pulled the top of your swimsuit aside, exposing the bare curve of your breast, you didn’t stop him.

And when he kissed over your nipple, dragging his tongue slowly around it before sucking it into his mouth with a quiet, greedy sound, you moaned, arching into him.

You pressed your mouth against his temple, whispering, “You’re still in your clothes.”

He lifted his head, breathing heavily, his eyes dark.

“You planning to take ‘em off me?”

You bit his earlobe. “Maybe.”

“Fuck,” he breathed, sliding his hand between your thighs underwater. “You’re already so wet.”

“It’s a pool, genius.”

“You know what I mean.”

And you did.

You kissed him again, slow and wet and needy, wrapping your legs around his waist as he held you up, the water making everything feel weightless.

His hand found that perfect spot between your thighs and pressed, rubbing slow, delicious circles that made you tremble in his arms.

The sky overhead darkened into soft pinks and golds, casting both your bodies in sunset glow. The water shimmered. The world blurred.

But all you could feel was him.

All you could taste was his breath in your mouth, his fingers pushing you closer and closer to the edge, and the low, ragged way he whispered your name against your shoulder when you gasped, legs tightening, your body pulsing around his hand.

And then, grinning against your lips, he asked, “Still think I wore this shirt just for business?”

You laughed into his mouth, breathless and drunk on him.

“No,” you whispered. “You wore it so I’d rip it off later.”

He smirked. “Then don’t keep me waiting.”

☆.

And you didn’t.

After his act of pleasure in the pool, Heeseung brought you inside, not caring about you both being damp, and laid you down on the suite bed.

You undressed each other with the kind of fire that ignited sparks between your burning forms.

And then he was inside you.

The city lights bled through the floor-to-ceiling windows behind him, casting sharp golds and deep blues against the curves of his body, his bare chest above you, sheen of sweat at his throat, fingers pressing hard into your thighs as he moved inside you like he owned you.

Like he wanted to prove something.

The only thing you could still feel was how he looked between your legs, the way his voice rasped when he told you, “You’re not leaving this bed until I’ve had every part of you.”

You were already wrecked, your body limp from the last orgasm he’d dragged out of you.

You weren’t even sure if this was the second or third round now. His thrusts had gone deeper, slower, more deliberate. He wasn’t rushing. He was savoring you.

And then his phone rang.

You both froze for half a second. The sound cut through the room, vibrating against the nightstand.

Heeseung groaned into your neck. “Ignore it.”

But then he glanced at the screen. His jaw tensed.

“Shit,” he muttered. “It’s Mr. Dufour, from Paris investors. I have to—” He was still inside you. Still rock hard. “Just… don’t move.”

You blinked up at him, dazed and flushed. “You’re kidding.”

“I’m not,” he said through clenched teeth, swiping to answer with one hand. His other never left your waist. “He’ll lose his shit if I don’t pick up.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but then—

“Bonjour,” Heeseung said smoothly, voice dropping into french, polite and practiced as he settled more firmly between your legs. His hips shifted.

You gasped.

He was still moving.

Not hard, not fast— but deep. Lazy, unhurried strokes, his eyes locked on yours while he spoke like everything was normal.

“Oui, Mr Dufour. Vous allez bien?” (yes, mr. dufour. are you doing well?)

You bit your lip, hard, trying not to moan.

The sheer insanity of it, his voice so calm, words sliding like honey in another language while he kept fucking you, slow and deliberate, hips rolling with obscene precisione

“J'ai envoyé le rapport sur le plan d'investissement hier.” (i sent the report on the investment plan yesterday.)

You dug your nails into his shoulders. He didn’t flinch.

His free hand slid between your bodies, brushing your clit with teasing strokes.

You whined, quietly and desperately but he only smiled.

Not sweetly. No, this was the smile of a man who knew he was driving you insane.

“Oui, je vous serais reconnaissant de me faire part de vos commentaires une fois que vous l'aurez examiné.” (yes, i would be glad if you could give me a feedbacks when you review it.)

You clenched around him, and for a split second, his voice hitched, only slightly, but he recovered fast.

You wanted to scream. Instead, your breath came out in little gasps, your back arching under him, heat rising through you in thick, dizzy waves.

“Heeseung,” you whispered, pleading.

He didn’t break eye contact. Just leaned closer, breath brushing your lips, and whispered back, “Be quiet.”

He was still speaking French into the phone. Still sounding professional. Still thrusting into you like he had all the time in the world.

You were unraveling beneath him.

His fingers found your clit again. Pressed lightly. Rubbed in slow, careful circles.

uour lips parted, and he kissed you hard, swallowing your cries as your climax built dangerously close again.

“Non, il n'y a pas de problème. Je vous contacterai bientôt.” (no, no problem. i’ll call you back soon.)

He ended the call.

There was a beat of silence. You could barely breathe.

Then his voice dropped to a low growl. “You didn’t listen.”

“I—” You were panting now. “I tried.”

He slid out of you slowly, only to slam back in with no warning.

You cried out, loud this time, legs tightening around him instinctively.

“I told you to be quiet,” he said again, but he was grinning now, breathless and wild and just as undone as you.

“You were, fucking speaking another language, what did you expect? That was hot as fuck.”

He grabbed your jaw and kissed you like he’d been starving for you all over again.

“Next time,” he said against your mouth, “I’ll put you on speaker. See how well you stay quiet then.”

You moaned into the kiss. “You’re insane.”

“And you fucking love it.”

And you did. Every slow, punishing thrust he gave you after that call, until you came again, clutching him so tightly he groaned your name like a prayer and finally followed you into oblivion.

Heeseung collapsed over you, breath hot against your shoulder, both of you sticky with sweat and utterly destroyed.

You lay there for a long time, your hand tangled in his damp hair.

“Just so we’re clear,” you murmured eventually, still breathless. “If you ever do that again, I’m going to break your phone.”

He laughed into your neck.

“I’d like to see you try.”

☆.

California wasnt so quiet at night, it still held its chaotic and festive atmosphere; but it was less noisy than day.

Heeseung stood barefoot in the kitchen, phone pressed between his shoulder and cheek, one hand cupped around a steaming mug of coffee, the other resting loosely on the marble counter.

The clock read 3:12 AM, but the supplier he was talking to was halfway across the world in Malaysia, bright-eyed and loud over the line.

“Yes, I got the spec sheets. I’ll forward the revised invoice before tomorrow,” he murmured, trying not to sound like he was barely two hours out of bed, or that he was still aching in every limb from the way you’d pulled him into you earlier that night.

His other hand scrubbed at his face, jaw rough with sleep-stubble.

He wore nothing but a loose pair of gray sweats, the waistband low on his hips, his skin still warm from your touch.

Every time he blinked, he could still see you— flushed, breathless, tangled in his sheets like sin wrapped in silk.

He should’ve stayed in bed. Lord, he wanted to.

But the time zones wouldn’t bend for him.

“Right, just make sure the quantities are adjusted. I don’t want to see another backorder excuse in the next—”

He didn’t hear the sound of you approaching. You always moved soft like that— barefoot, sleepy, half-dreaming when you woke.

It wasn’t until you slipped your arms around his bare torso that he felt you.

You hugged him from behind, face nuzzling into his back, your body covered only by the warm duvet you’d stolen from the bed.

Your skin was flushed with residual heat, cheek pressed between his shoulder blades.

He paused mid-sentence.

Your voice came out soft, “Come back to bed.”

He swallowed, throat tightening around the words he’d meant to say.

“Just a second,” he murmured into the phone, gently pulling it away from his ear. “Hold on.”

You didn’t let go.

In fact, your arms curled tighter around his waist, and he could feel the slow drag of your bare chest pressed to his back, the way you breathed in the scent of his skin like you needed it to fall asleep again.

“You’re cold,” he murmured, not even turning around yet, his hand covering yours where it rested low on his stomach. “You should’ve stayed under the covers.”

You mumbled something unintelligible and a little whiny against his skin, still half-asleep.

“I got lonely,” you finally whispered. “Bed’s too big without you.”

That nearly broke him.

He glanced at the phone still clutched in his hand, hearing the faint crackle of the supplier’s voice on the other end.

He could’ve finished the call. Should’ve.

But your breath was slow and warm against his back, and your fingers were tracing lazy little circles against his abdomen like you didn’t even realize you were doing it.

Heeseung tilted his head toward the phone and spoke quickly. “Sorry, I’ll get back to you in an hour. Something urgent came up.”

The line clicked off. He didn’t care if the supplier was annoyed.

You didn’t say anything at first, not even as he set the phone down on the counter and turned slowly in your arms.

You looked up at him through heavy eyes,, hair a tousled halo around your face, skin lit by the faint blue haze of early morning.

The duvet stayed wrapped around you, but he could see the line of your shoulder, the slope of your collarbone, the flush in your cheeks.

You looked like something out of a dream.

His voice came out rougher than he meant. “You’re dangerous.”

You tilted your head up at him, blinking innocently. “Me?”

“You.”

He ran his fingers through your hair, thumb brushing your cheek. “You do things to me I can’t explain.”

You leaned into his chest again and murmured, “Then stop trying to explain and just come back to bed.”

He chuckled low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your skin. “Pushy.”

You tugged him gently by the waistband of his sweats. “You like me pushy.”

He did.

Buthe liked you like this, too— soft and quiet, in the middle of the night when the world was paused just long enough to let him hold you without pretending.

So he kissed your forehead and reached down, scooping you up in one smooth motion.

You squealed, the duvet slipping a little, exposing your legs as you curled instinctively into him. “Heeseung!”

“You woke up,” he said as he carried you down the hall, voice mock-serious. “Then interrupted my call. Now you’re going to make up for it.”

“I missed you,” you said, chin tucked against his shoulder, “You’re the one who left me naked and cold in your enormous bed.”

“Don’t act like you didn’t steal all the covers and kicked my back”

He nudged the bedroom door open with his foot and carried you back to bed.

The mattress were still warm where you’d been. He laid you down gently and crawled in beside you, wrapping an arm around your waist, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“You’re such a clingy sleeper,” you mumbled.

“I like sleeping with you,” he said, pulling the duvet higher around you both. “Shut up and let me enjoy it.”

You smiled sleepily, eyes already drifting shut again, your body melting into his.

And there, under the weight of blankets, limbs tangled together, his breath evening out beside yours, you both slipped back into the kind of sleep that only came after passion, laughter, and the slow certainty that neither of you wanted to be anywhere else.

It started with an email, and it ended with love.

[orphanedfamily]

🚨📣A distress call from grieving hearts Together we face the harshness of life.📣🚨

To those with compassionate hearts and generous hands

We, sisters Alaa and Manal, come to you today with hearts filled with both pain and hope. The harsh winds of war have swept us away, and we lost our father and our lifelong support, our husbands, leaving behind children whose only fault was that they were born in a time when security was scarce.

Im Alaa, am a mother of two young children, a four-year-old girl and a two-year-old boy. Every day, I wonder how I will provide them with a living and the necessities of a decent life. Life did not give me a chance to say goodbye to my husband. All I have left of him is a ring with our names written on it.

my sister, Manal, she has three children: an eleven-year-old boy, a three-year-old boy, and an eight-year-old girl. Her suffering is compounded by a neck injury that is pressing on her spinal nerve, threatening her with quadriplegia.She needs an emergency operation to relieve pressure on her spine, but this operation cannot be performed inside Gaza due to the lack of resources. This makes caring for her three children an unbearable challenge.

Our tragedies did not stop there. Our sick mother, who suffers from pulmonary fibrosis, lives with us and suffers in silence. We have all lost our homes, which were destroyed by the war, and we have experienced the bitterness of displacement and displacement dozens of times. We lived in tents, experienced the harshness of homelessness, and today, we have no stable source of income to help us cope with the burdens of life and meet the needs of our children and our sick mother.

We have exhausted all our energy and our resources. We search for a glimmer of hope, for a hand to reach out to us and lift this heavy burden. Today, we appeal to you with broken hearts but with dignity that refuses to be broken, to extend a helping hand. Every contribution, no matter how small, will make a huge difference in our lives.

We believe that there are hearts in this world that carry goodness, and that your humanity will be our support. May God reward you for all you do. With deep thanks and appreciation,

Alaa, Manal, their children, and their mother.

[animeweeb115]

[nekoashiii]

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ Not now!

Notes: masterlist \ Part 1

Summary: Your husband is calling you, but a little gremlin keeps declining it.

Tag: @teewritessmth @mitskunicheesecake @rcvcgers @vspxriddles @iloveh4nge

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ Zayne

Zayne sat in the doctor’s lounge, his phone pressed to his ear as he listened to the call ring. Once. Twice. Then—

Call Declined.

His brows furrowed slightly. His hands, steady enough to perform the most delicate heart surgeries, tightened around the phone. He tried again.

Ring. Ring.

Call Declined.

Zayne exhaled slowly through his nose, his grip relaxing, Maybe you were busy. You were probably playing with Elias or cooking dinner Mayne in the shower? He wasn’t the type to overthink, but something about the repeated declines made his stomach twist in a way he wasn’t happy about.

Still, he didn’t want to be a nuisance or cause you unnecessary troubles. He wasn’t the type to text “Call me” like other husbands either, He just sat there for a moment, staring at his phone, before getting up and heading back to work.

He had patients waiting.

Back home, Elias sat cross-legged on the couch, his tiny fingers curled around your phone. Every time it vibrated, his eyes narrowed, and without hesitation, he pressed the red button.

“Papa’s calling,” you pointed out, watching from the kitchen as Elias, without a second thought, hung up again.

He didn’t say a word. Just held the phone like a little dragon hoarding treasure.

You wiped your hands on a towel and walked over, sitting beside him. “Sweetheart, why are you declining Papa’s calls?”

Elias finally looked up at you. His expression was unreadable—so much like Zayne’s that it almost made you laugh. After a moment, he mumbled, “He’s busy.”

You blinked. “That’s why you’re hanging up on him?”

A short nod.

Your heart softened. Elias was a quiet child, much like his father, and even at four years old, he had an odd way of thinking. He wasn’t upset. He wasn’t being stubborn. In his little mind, he just thought he was helping.

You smiled and ran a hand through his soft raven colored hair. “Baby, Papa wouldn’t call if he didn’t want to talk. He’s probably on a break and missing us.”

Elias frowned slightly, as if the thought hadn’t occurred to him. He shifted on the couch, staring at the phone. “…Oh.”

You chuckled. “Should we call him back?”

Elias hesitated, then nodded.

Zayne was halfway through reviewing a patient’s chart when his phone vibrated.

Incoming Call: My Love

His fingers moved instinctively, answering before the first ring finished. “Hello?”

“Papa.”

Zayne blinked. It wasn’t you. It was Elias.

The little voice on the other end sounded almost… guilty?

“Elias.” Zayne glanced at the time. “You should be in bed soon.”

A pause. Then, in a quieter voice, “…I hung up your calls.”

Zayne froze. He hadn’t expected that. His first instinct was to ask why, but before he could, Elias continued.

“You were busy. I didn’t wanna bother you.”

Zayne’s grip on the phone tightened. He looked down at his hands, But right now, his own heart ached in a different way.

He wasn’t good with words. Never had been. But there was one thing he knew.

“Elias.” His voice was firm, steady. “You never bother me.”

Another pause.

Then, a quiet, “…Oh.”

Zayne exhaled. “Is Mama there?”

You took the phone, laughing softly. “Your son thought he was being considerate.”

Zayne pinched the bridge of his nose. “Of course he did.” His voice was softer than usual. “Tell him he can always pick up my calls.”

“I think he understands now.” You turned to Elias, who was now curled against your side, looking deep in thought. “Say goodnight to Papa.”

Elias hesitated, then muttered, “Goodnight, Papa.”

Zayne swallowed. He wished he was home.

“Goodnight, Elias. I’ll see you in the morning.”

When Zayne finally stepped through the door that night, the house was quiet. You were already in bed, and Elias was asleep in his room.

Or so he thought.

As he passed Elias’ door, a tiny voice mumbled, “…father?”

Zayne stopped. Slowly, he pushed the door open.

Elias was sitting up in bed, rubbing his sleepy eyes.

Zayne hesitated. He wasn’t good at this. But he walked inside, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

Elias didn’t answer. Instead, he reached out with his small hands and grabbed onto Zayne’s sleeve. Not saying anything, just… holding on.

Zayne stared at him before sitting on the edge of his bed.

Then, without a word, he gently rested a hand on his son’s head.

It wasn’t much.

But for them, it was enough.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ Xavier

Xavier stood in the middle of a blood-soaked battlefield, his sword still dripping as he exhaled. The fight had been over in minutes—another nest of Wanderers cleared out.

He wasn’t in a hurry to return to headquarters. Instead, he yawned and pulled out his phone, pressing your number.

Ring. Ring.

Call Declined.

Xavier stared at the screen, brow twitching slightly. That was odd. He tried again.

Call Declined.

The corner of his mouth twitched. He wasn’t a man prone to overreaction, but something about his own family declining his calls irritated him. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. Maybe you were busy. Maybe—

He teleported.

One second, he was in a ruined village surrounded by monster corpses. The next, he was in the living room of his own home.

The sight that greeted him made his left eye twitch.

Leo and Livia—his five-year-old twins—were sitting on the couch, your phone between them, giggling.

Livia saw him first. Her eyes widened, and she smacked Leo’s arm. “Abort mission! Papa’s here!”

Leo nearly dropped the phone. “Crap.”

Xavier didn’t speak for a moment. He simply stared, exhausted, disappointed, and vaguely impressed all at once. “…You two.”

The twins immediately shot to their feet, but it was too late. He was already in front of them, towering over their tiny forms. His sword was still strapped to his back, his hunter uniform stained with dried Wanderer blood.

They didn’t look scared. If anything, they looked ready to bolt.

“…Explain.” His voice was even, calm—but that made it worse.

The twins exchanged glances before Livia, ever the mastermind, said, “Mom said you were busy!”

Leo nodded rapidly. “Yeah! You were fighting monsters, right? We didn’t wanna bother you!”

Xavier sighed through his nose, rubbing his temples. “You declined my calls.”

Livia pouted. “Well… yeah.”

He inhaled deeply. He was not good at this. Discipline, affection—none of it came naturally to him. He could gut a monster in seconds, but parenting? That was an entirely different battlefield.

He crossed his arms, giving them a firm look. “That’s not happening again.”

Leo groaned. “But why? You never talk much anyway!”

Xavier blinked. He squatted down to their level, eyes narrowing. “You have a death wish, don’t you?”

Livia elbowed Leo. “Idiot. Now we’re really in trouble.”

Xavier pinched the bridge of his nose, exhausted beyond belief. He should just pick them up and force them into a timeout—he had the strength for it. But before he could, Livia clapped her hands together.

“Leo, Plan B!”

Leo gasped. “Yes, Plan B!”

Xavier frowned. “What the—”

Before he could react, Livia sprinted left while Leo ran right.

Teleportation was an option, but honestly? He was too damn tired. He just sighed and walked toward the kitchen, knowing exactly where they’d end up.

And there you were, standing at the counter, watching the chaos unfold like it was a normal Tuesday.

Without looking at him, you asked, “I take it you figured out why your calls weren’t getting through?”

Xavier leaned against the counter, exhaling. “Your kids are demons.”

You raised a brow. “My kids?”

He gave you a tired look. “They didn’t get it from me.”

Before you could argue, the sound of a crash echoed from upstairs.

A beat of silence. Then Leo’s voice: “I’LL FIX IT, I PROMISE!”

Xavier closed his eyes, counting to ten.

An hour later, the twins sat on the couch, pouting as Xavier stood in front of them. He wasn’t a loud father. He didn’t yell. But his silent disappointment was somehow worse.

“You’re not getting out of this,” he finally said.

Livia crossed her arms. “It was for a good reason.”

“It was for a stupid reason.”

Leo kicked his legs. “But we didn’t wanna distract you.”

Xavier sighed, rubbing his face. “…You’re my kids. You can always talk to me.”

Livia blinked. “Even when you’re fighting monsters?”

He crouched down, staring at them. “Especially then.”

For the first time, the twins looked guilty.

Xavier softened just a fraction. He wasn’t great at showing affection to kids. He wasn’t the type to hug them randomly or constantly hold them. But he reached out, ruffling their hair roughly or cuddle up with his little demons.

“Next time you hang up on me, I’m making you run laps.”

Leo gasped. “That’s child labor!”

Livia clutched her chest. “You’re cruel, Father.”

Xavier stood, sighing. “You’ll live.”

That night, when the twins were asleep, Xavier sat beside you in bed, rubbing his temples.

“I don’t know how to handle them.”

You smiled, playing with his hair. “You’re doing fine.”

He scoffed. “They don’t listen to me at all.”

You chuckled. “They do. They just like pushing your buttons.”

Xavier sighed, leaning into your touch. “…Next time they ignore my calls, I’m teleporting them into a cold lake.”

You laughed, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Sure you are.”

Xavier didn’t respond. He just yawned, closed his eyes, and finally—finally—slept.

[sooniebby]

ఌ 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐍𝐀𝐄

w.c › 11k

plot › this Drabble I had, but expanded. And changed the ending for this part.

warnings › for all characters in the group — faceclaim. Bottom male reader. Age gap, reader is four years older than OC. Reader’s last name is Hong. Unreliable narrator. Slow burn, Mingi is the main romance but you do dabble with the other members.

kinks › body worship, cross dressing, size difference

Words to know › maknae (막내) — youngest. Hyung (형) — a term a younger male with call an older male. Dongsaeng (동생) — little brother/sister, doesn’t have to be a biological sibling/can be a friend. Aegyo(애교) — a way of acting cute in Korea culture.

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

At the age of twenty-one, you thought had run out of time to debut. You did end up debuting with five other boys, as the leader no less. Of course being from a small company meant your debut wasn’t that big but it was better than nothing.

The group was called 미라클 (Miracle). The company wanted a boy group to sell a boyfriend fantasy to fans, especially female fans.

You and your group were even advertise as specific types of boyfriends.

Hong (Name), leader of Miracle had a nice ring to it. Advertised as the no-nonsense boyfriend, cold but caring.

박요한 (Park Yohan), sub vocalist and lead dancer of Miracle. Debuted at the age of twenty. Advertised as the athletic boyfriend, energetic and upbeat.

김기현 (Kim Kihyun), lead vocalist and main dancer of Miracle. He was the same age as Yohan. Advertised as the artistic boyfriend, writes music just for you (the fan).

박도하 (Park Doha), main rapper of Miracle. Debuted at the age of nineteen. Advertised as the bad boy, with a hidden heart of gold.

양효진 (Yang Hyojin), sub vocalist and lead rapper of Miracle, under the stage name Jin. Debuted at the age of eighteen. Advertised as the guitarist boyfriend, shy but sweet.

최민기 (Choi Mingi), main vocalist of Miracle. The maknae, debuting at age seventeen. Advertised as the golden retriever boyfriend, naive and well meaning.

With the two underage members, you were a bit worried about them being used to portray a fantasy. But any worries you had were always pushed aside. In the end you ended up trying to protect Mingi and Hyojin by yourself, and even the other members.

Which led to the first two years of your group to label you as “Miracle’s Dad.”

It didn’t bother you, though it did ruin the whole boyfriend image for you. Most of the fans could only really see you as the group’s parent, and by extension, their own.

The company ended up leaning into it. Follow the money or whatever.

The groups debut was school boy concept. It made sense though you felt weird being twenty-one dancing in a school uniform. Over time as the members grew older, the company allowed you guys to experiment to more mature music.

But the group really blew up when the group was four years old. You had turned twenty-five and basically begged the company to finally allow the group to have a sensual concept.

They refused, obviously. But they allowed the b-side that you’d guys promote be just a little bit sensual.

Embarrassing to say that you quickly leaned into it. You performed the b-side as if your rent was due. In the end it worked out for you.

Who knew acting sexual on stage would make people like you more. It also helped that you wore revealing clothes in comparison to everyone else. The stylist practically went to town with your outfit.

Skin tight leather pants that had a hole on your right thigh. A black crop top that showed off your stomach, a waist chain, and heavy black eye makeup. Most of all, a freaking choker that you purposefully played with during the performance.

In any case, your little performance helped bring Miracle more fans. The next fan meeting was sold out in just one day! A first for your group.

Which lead to today, the fan meeting.

“Are you going to wear a choker again?”

You flinched as a chin rest on your shoulder. Your eyes moved from your phone as you glanced over at Yohan, who had just finished makeup. Yohan gave you a cheeky smirk as you rolled your eyes and pushed him away.

“Why would I wear it for a fan meeting? The theme is costumes.” You said, checking the time. You were next to get your outfit and makeup down. The fan meeting had fallen on Halloween so the company took the chance to have you all dress up.

Yohan was a butler by the looks of it. His dyed pink hair slicked back, a pair of fake glasses on the bridge of his nose. He pulled out his phone, “you sure you don’t want to get a side account? The fans are funny as fuck.”

He’d been pestering you about seeing what everyone online thought about you but you weren’t exactly into that. Besides, it’s for the fans mostly, wouldn’t it be weird if you bothered them?

“Hong (Name).”

“Gotta go.” You said, getting up.

“I hope they put you in another choker!”

Yohan was right, you would be getting a choker again.

But not in the way you thought.

You stared in the mirror just as a few staff members told your group that the fans were here.

You were dressed a princess, Cinderella to be exact. Y’know, you expected something to go with the recent rise of your popularity. Something sexy, not this cute outfit. The blonde wig was cheap but still managed to look decent due to the stylist’s touches.

The dress was blue and puffy, somehow fitting you. It was knee length, possibly due to your height. There was a bit of tightness around your chest. Was this originally for a girl? You shook your head. There was a blue little choker that matched the light blue gloves you wore.

The shoes you wore were just sneakers, the stylist got lazy at the end. You had on white thigh highs that had a frilly top at the end. Despite your slight disappointment, you couldn’t lie that you were cute.

The stylist did perfect girlish make up on you, somehow managing to make your face look feminine. Oh well, you could cross off cross dressing on your bucket list!

“Looking good, Princess!” Yohan appeared behind you, grinning. Kihyun was right beside him, taking in your outfit.

Kihyun was a cowboy. His hat slipping down when he looked back up at you. “You look good, Hyung. Did you shave?” He pushed the hat back up.

“I usually shave.” You said, shrugging. “Hairless legs feel nice.”

Yohan hummed. “Hm,” he fixed your wig when it looked tilted. “Maybe I should shave. Hey, Kihyun, wanna help a hyung out?”

“Don’t even come near me.” Kihyun rolled his eyes, quickly walking away.

“Look at him… Our dongsaengs are so mean nowadays.” Yohan shook his head as he let out an exasperated sigh. You rolled your eyes and began to drag Yohan out to the back of the stage.

Everyone else was already there.

The staff motioned for you all to rush out onto stage one by one. The youngest went first. You almost felt nervous going out but stood tall as you walked out last.

The fans screams were almost deafening. You almost covered your ears subconsciously. Your lips twitched as you tried to fight back a smile, it was one of the few times they ever screamed that loud when you came on stage.

It was always Mingi or Kihyun, the most biased out of the group.

The fan meet went as it always does. Miras, Miracle’s fandom name, were excited to see the group. Little dances or karaoke performances of other groups songs. For the first time, fans actually called out your name to take more pictures of you.

Any nervousness you had over the dress was long gone by this point. You decided to let loose and get into the ‘princess’ persona. Doha was dressed a vampire so you posed together for the fan cameras.

“Bite him!”

“Bite him, Doha-Ssi!”

Doha glanced over at you. You could instantly tell the mischievous aura that was beaming from him as his lips slowly pulled into a smirk. Before you could even attempt to run away his hand grabbed your arm as he pulled you close.

Miras screamed as he playfully bit your neck. You squirmed as you could only laugh, reaching to push him away but he easily grabbed both of your wrists. He held them tight as he held his pose so the fan girls could take as many pictures as possible.

Finally he pulled away. You glared at him and quickly got your revenge by ‘accidentally’ hitting your knee against his crotch. Doha went down with a whimper.

Yohan quickly walked over, but not to help as he kneeled and took a quick selfie. “I hope they make memes of this!” He laughed, moving to sit on top of Doha’s back as the younger muttered out a short prayer for his crotch.

You glanced over to see what the other members were doing. Mingi was being told to do multiple poses while Kihyun and Hyojin were trying on different hand bands Miras had brought on. That gave you the idea to find one for yourself.

Hopefully it wouldn’t miss with your wig. Wouldn’t want to go bald on stage.

You were sitting on top of the table on the stage, grabbing one of the gifts that Miras brought in. As you debated between the cat ears or frog hat, a hand suddenly gripped your thigh.

Your body jumped as you glanced up to see who was touching you to see it was only Mingi. He was dressed in an ancient Korean costume, complimented with a Korean hat. It was no wonder the fans kept telling him to be an actor.

He looked straight out of a historical kdrama.

“Something wrong?” You finally asked, calming down when you realized it was just him. Weirdly enough he was covering you from the fans. Hm.

Mingi stared down at you, his face blank. His dyed blonde hair was pulled into a little bun to fit into the hat. Light makeup applied to his fox like features, red lipstick on his lips. You didn’t mean to but you stared at his lips for a moment before quickly looking back up.

His eyes narrowed in on your neck. You reached up to touch your neck and felt the teeth marks Doha left. Damn, you didn’t realize he had bitten that hard. Just as you glanced up at Mingi he was looking at your face.

“Your dress is short.” Mingi said, a grin pulling on his lips. But it didn’t reach his eyes. “You almost flashed everyone else.”

You gasped, glancing back at the fans. “Really?! Did they see anything?”

“No, I came just in time. They just…” Mingi glanced down at your thighs. The dress had ridden up to show off the bare skin of your thighs that weren’t covered by your socks. It was really close to showing the boxers you were wearing.

Mingi shook his head. “They didn’t see anything. Be careful next time, Hyung. Wouldn’t want anyone to… see you like this.”

“Thanks.” You simply said, giving him a little smile. Your lips pursed as you glanced back at the cat ears and frog hat. “Minnie, which one should I wear? Cat ears or frog hat?” You held up the two items.

He took the two from your hand before placing the cat ears back on the table. You made the attempt to reach for the frog hat, believing that’s what he chose for you until he stopped you.

You watched as he untied the hat he was wearing, taking it off before resting it on your head. He placed the frog hat on his head and then tied the Korean hat properly on you, making sure it was stable before pulling away.

“I wanted the frog hat. I think it’ll look better on me.” Mingi smirked. He fixed your dress, pulling it down to give you some modesty before stepping away to stop covering you.

“Ah…” You could only stare at him. That felt weird but you didn’t know why. He just wanted to switch hats. That’s all. You were making it weird.

He’s someone you have to take care of! You pinched yourself to push any weird thoughts in your head as you slipped off the table.

The rest of the fan meet was smooth sailing. Mingi didn’t bother you. Doha was mewing for the camera while Yohan would randomly start breakdancing for no reason. Kihyun and Hyojin were once again in their own little world.

Though they were nice enough to let you sit on the sideline. You sometimes wondered if they had something on side. In a hour or so the fan meet was done.

You all practically rushed to get home. While you loved interacting with fans, you always felt insanely tired after. There was always a certain persona you had to have—especially the one that the company had given you.

As you sat in the company van, you glanced over at Yohan. He was snickering at something on his phone. You leaned closer to see what it was.

It was a video of you hitting Doha in the balls. From the angle, it was so obvious it wasn’t an accident. As Yohan swiped down to the comments, so many fans were laughing. Lots of them saying Doha had to say goodbye to having children.

“It’s funny, right?” Yohan suddenly asked, looking up at you.

You flinched before nodding, not seeing the purpose of lying now. “Yeah, I guess. Is that all they do?”

“They do fan edits and even fan art. I found an edit of my breakdancing already.” Yohan showed the video. The edit made his dancing look cooler than it actually was. You rolled your eyes, of course Yohan would like it.

“You should really just take a look,” Yohan looked back down at his phone. “It’s cool seeing how they talk about us.”

The driver started the car as you glanced out the window. Maybe Yohan wasn’t wrong. It wouldn’t hurt to take a little peek at what Miras are doing.

Besides… you wanted to see if maybe Miras saw you outside of being ‘Miracle’s Dad.’

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

After taking a nice shower, you got dressed in some loose pajamas. Since Miracle was a four year group, the company finally allowed you all to not room in one apartment as six men.

Though they could only afford a three apartments, meaning you would still have to room with someone. The apartments were all on the same floor and right near each other. Meaning there were days your band mates would still bother you like a little kid.

Yohan and Doha were roommates.

Kihyun and Hyojin, unsurprising to everyone.

That left you and Mingi. You thought he would’ve been upset about that but he was calm. If you were delusional enough, you would’ve thought he was even happy.

But you aren’t delusional.

You could hear Mingi gaming in the living room. You almost attempted to go out and ask him to keep the volume down but just as you opened the door, the volume was already low. Hm, he was a smart guy.

With that settled, you turned on your colorful fairy lights and plopped down onto your bed. You responded to any text messages that came up when you got bored.

Your finger pressed on Twitter. You were logged onto the group’s official account. As you scrolled past what the company posted—you suddenly got the urge to see what the fans were doing.

Just for a second. Just for a little bit.

You got to work and logged out of the account, making a side account. To better infiltrate Miras, you made a small little fan account.

Perhaps you are a little bit conceited but you decided to use your own picture as the profile picture. You used one from the fan meet today. That blonde wig was really pretty on you, why shouldn’t you enjoy it a bit more?

After creating the account, you began scrolling through the more major fan accounts. There were of course a lot for Kihyun and Mingi. That much you expected it.

There were many viral tweets of Mingi in his costume. So many Miras squealing that he would make a perfect actor. One post had over 100k likes.

As you scrolled through the many posts of Miras saying they wanted to “bounce on that dick” you came across a profile that an ‘18+’ in their handle.

What could they be posting to have such an handle?

Curiosity got the best of you. You pressed in their account to check it out. The account had Yohan as their profile, an older one of him, possibly at your debut. It was named @hanniesmira

The first few posts were just of Yohan taken at the fan meet. Her captions were pretty sweet, you wondered how bad things could get. Until you came across a tweet she had of Yohan and Doha.

It was when Yohan had just finished his ridiculous breakdancing. You remembered Miras yelling for Doha to bite him since he was in arms length of him.

The caption read:

→ you cant tell me DH hasn’t fucked Yhn in this type of position before!!!

‘DH?’ ‘Yhn?’ Why did she censor their name like that? You didn’t question it and decided to see how she could possibly get this perverted idea of Yohan and Doha. The video started with Yohan standing up after his breakdancing, breathing heavily as he wiped at his face.

The Miras in the video began to tell Doha to quickly bite Yohan while he’s distracted. Doha gave them a thumb ups before inching close to an oblivious Yohan. Yohan seemed to notice something was wrong judging by the giggles from Miras.

He made an attempt to run when Doha delivered his attack. Two of Doha’s fingers easily hooked itself in Yohan’s belt hoops of his pants and pulled him back with ease. His free hand reached up and gripped Yohan’s chin as he harshly tilted his head to the right.

Doha delivered the quick bite into Yohan’s neck. Yohan winced as his free hand reached up and gripped Doha’s hair as he could only take Doha’s attack. The video ended just as Doha pulled away and Yohan turned to face him, an unreadable expression on his face.

Oh.

Okay you could see it. That was a bit… 

You must’ve been daydreaming to not have noticed that oddly sexually charged interaction. So maybe this girl wasn’t crazy. Now intrigued, you decided to continue on.

There were other videos of the fan meet. Though she wasn’t just a Yohan and Doha solo fan. She retweeted a few posts of Kihyun and Hyojin.

Kihyun was leaning over to wipe something off Hyojin’s lips. You didn’t see how any of that was romantic but thought back to the fact you practically did that for every member multiple times.

You really did act like a dad…

Time passed as you started to sink deeper into the ‘NSFW’ side of Miras. You learned Miras ‘censored’ names to hide posts from the searches. Kihyun and Hyojin were a major couple, many fan fictions made about them. Almost every Mira agreed that they were secretly dating.

Yohan and Doha was a different story. It seemed most people fought over who would top.

Then there was other ships. Hyojin and Doha. Yohan and Kihyun. Kihyun and Doha. Hyojin and Yohan. Even with Mingi. Mingi was mostly shipped with Hyojin. You wondered why you weren’t showing up at much, feeling oddly left out.

Weird, you were wondering why no one was over analyzing your sex life!

Just as you were about to call it a night, you came across a post finally discussing you. Hanniesmira was quote tweeting someone else’s tweet.

→ Is this really yalls alpha daddy? Not with those omega eyes!!

Omega eyes?! You took a look at just what she was quoting. It was of your fan page. A gif of today’s fan meet. You were in the Cinderella costume, fixing your wig before looking up, grinning at the crowd. Whatever omega eyes meant, you kinda understood what she meant.

You certainly didn’t look anything like how you usually presented yourself.

As you looked at the comments, an account caught your eye. @itsokokok. The account had you as the profile picture. It was of you on stage for the sensual b-side you guys promoted. Much to your surprise, the account had over 78k followers.

It was getting late but you wanted to see what an account about you said. Were you the top? You hoped so.

It seemed the owner of this account was a guy! Shocking, it was the first male fan you came across.

The account was of you… and pretty much only you. He retweeted a lot of pictures of you in the Cinderella costume. Others of your performance in the infamous choker. Multiple gifs of you pulling at the choker as you stared at the camera. You never realized how dark the eye makeup was.

Clothes and makeup could really change how you looked. It was like night and day compared to the Cinderella costume.

@bluemuuun

↳ tip sticky…

@slipslickk

↳ oh but if I say Hong (Name) is a slut asking to be fucked I’m the bad guy?

@hanniesmira

↳ someone creampie this man!!!

@hyunkikii

↳ need him… need him bouncing on it…

@hyoojinie

↳ 143 entertainment knew to keep this (Name) away from me cuz imma about to defy the laws of biology and get this man pregnant

@dohasflatass

↳ yall should see how Min looked at him during the performance ㅋㅋㅋㅋ he was about to combust

You clicked on the account @dohasflatass was linking to. It was a Mingi fan account, judging by the account having him as their profile picture. The caption wasn’t something you expected, not in your wildest dreams.

→ min wants to fuck him so bad

The video had you delivering your killer move, tugging at your choker as you stared at the camera, biting your lip. It suddenly switched to Mingi. He was delivering his dance moves but his eyes laser focused on you. You hadn’t noticed because you were in the center.

Even though you didn’t think he wanted to fuck you, he was certainly staring at you like you were a three course meal.

The account, @mingihongi had other videos of Mingi supposedly staring at you when you never noticed. One that caught your attention was from today’s fan meet. It was when Doha had restrained you.

The camera zoomed into Mingi, who was standing not too far from you. He was staring straight at you and Doha. There was no subtlety to the anger on his face. His eyebrows furrowed as he gripped at the toy prop he was holding.

Another video was of when you were on the table. Your dress was riding up, your legs swinging absentmindedly as you tried to figure out what to wear. Just as the dress was about to uncover your boxers—Mingi was suddenly in front of you. The video quickly ended after that.

@hyoojinie

↳ someone jelly… forget shipping (Name) with anyone else ㅋㅋㅋㅋ min would murder them

@hanniesmira

↳ (name) shaves?! I need min to bite his thighs!!!

@hyunkikii

↳ alpha daddy my ass… that man is Miracle’s mommy and min’s slut

@hyoojinie

↳ real. (Name) is honestly more like a mom—good thing I love MILFS!!! ㅋㅋㅋㅋ

@dohasflatass

↳ if only people didn’t just see him as the ‘dad’.. they’re missing out on seeing min fight every fiber in on his body to not fuck his leader on stage

@slipslickk

↳ remember the live stream?? Min wanted that cookie so fucking bad ㅋㅋㅋㅋ

@dohasflatass

↳ which one ㅎㅎㅎ min always stares at (name) like he needs to fuck him or he’ll die

“Hyung.”

You squealed, tossing your phone across the bed as the door opened. Mingi walked in as he rubbed at his face. His eyes were struggling to say open as he moved over to your bed.

“Something wrong?” You asked, trying to forget what you just read. Miras were fucking freaky.

“Hm.” Mingi shrugged as he reached over and pushed you to lay back down. You didn’t fight him as you raised an eyebrow at his behavior. He turned off your nightstand as he crawled over you before plopping down on the bed beside you.

He yawned as he wrapped his arms around your waist and easily pulled you against his body. You flinched but did nothing to stop him. This was normal, he used to do this back during your pre-debut days. One time he got a nightmare and cuddled with you that night… after that you never refused him whenever he asked again.

Even if you knew he couldn’t be possibly having nightmares every night. He stopped saying he had a nightmare and just got comfortable in bed with you.

It had been awhile since he had done that after moving into this apartment. You assumed he had outgrown it being that he was twenty-one now and you twenty-five. But as he got comfortable, you couldn’t stop yourself from gently playing with a strand of his hair.

“Night, Minnie.” You whispered. He hummed before cuddling you closer.

Everything would be okay. Whatever Miras were talking about was rubbish. You were Miracle’s Dad and would continue taking care of them, especially the maknae.

He didn’t want you that way…

Right?

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

After your descent into madness only being two weeks ago, you unfortunately began to view Yohan and Doha a bit differently. You already thought Kihyun and Hyojin had a special bond but never with Yohan and Doha.

“We should do an Instagram live today.” You said, staring over at Yohan.

The two of you were in the dance practice room. Yohan had wanted to show you a few moves which led to you two being in there for over two hours. The man was a dance machine and you were too nice to tell him that you wanted to go home.

It was around 10:00 pm but it was a Friday night.

You grabbed your phone and opened the groups Instagram, @Yourmiracle, not waiting for Yohan to respond. Yohan plopped down beside you on the small couch that was in the room. He wrapped his arm underneath your waist and rest his head on your chest.

Yohan was naturally cuddly so you didn’t say anything, pressing the live button. It didn’t take long for Miras to immediately start rushing in.

“Hi hi~! Miras, I have a special gift for you today: Sweaty Yohan!” You grinned, panning your phone down to get Yohan in frame.

He rolled his eyes and used his free hand to push it away. You laughed and steady your hand, making sure only the top of his hair was in frame. Your hand absentmindedly began to play with his hair as you read the comments flooding in.

“Yohan’s hair looks fried?” You read, snickering when Yohan let out a disgruntled grunt. “Miras are saying you should do black hair for the next comeback.”

“If I do black I can’t die my hair ever again,” Yohan whined, burying his face into your neck.

You flinched at his sweat now touching your neck,“You’re sweaty!! Get off, Hannie.” Though you made no real attempt to push Yohan away.

→ Their boyfriends are gonna be so mad ㅋㅋㅋㅋ

One of the comments caught your eye. Boyfriends? Who could they be talking about? You began paying more attention as a few other comments either told the person to shut up or began joking around with them as well.

They did mean Doha? Maybe they just meant Yohan’s boyfriend would be mad.

Yohan suddenly yawned as he moved to sit up, his face fully showing now. He rubbed at his eyes before pressing his nose against your cheek.

“End the live I wanna go home now.”

“Haha, now you wanna go home?” You teased, “you had me here for almost two hours, just to show me some dance moves! You can sit still for thirty minutes.”

A displeased grunt left Yohan as he pulled away a bit, a pout on his lips. He was obviously trying to do puppy dog eyes at you. You rolled your eyes and shook your head, turning your attention back to comments.

“Hyungie…” Yohan whined again as he reached up and grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him. His face was inches from yours—his nose brushed against yours, causing you to flinch. “Please..? For your favorite member?”

All you could really think about was the fact he wasn’t your favorite member. Not the fact that this could be viewed as oddly romantic.

“Who said you were my favorite?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. “My favorite is Hyo—!”

Yohan squished your face as he glared at you. Your lips were now puckered out, eyes wide as you stared at Yohan in shock. The phone was almost slipping out of your hand, forgetting all about keeping it steady.

“Really? I’m not your favorite?” Yohan whispered, his eyes gazing into yours. You blinked, wondering what on Earth was happening. Why was he so close?

Your body tensed as your spare hand reached up to grip at Yohan’s shirt as you felt your face heat up. “Han—”

“—what are you doing to my favorite hyung?”

The door to the room was pushed open, walking in was Doha and Mingi. Doha chuckled as he plopped down on the couch right beside Yohan. He wrapped his arm around Yohan’s neck and pulled him away from you.

Yohan released your face as you quickly pulled away, rubbing at your sore cheeks. Mingi didn’t say anything as he stood in front of you. He kneeled down, sliding his arms around your waist and underneath your legs, much to your shock.

A complaint was on the tip of your tongue as he easily manhandled you to move away from Yohan. Mingi sat down in the now free space, grabbing your phone that was still on live.

You could only watch as Doha and Mingi took over the live with a disgruntled Yohan in between them. There was something off about what just happened but you couldn’t explain why.

As your dongsaengs continued on, you couldn’t help but feel a bit… left out? Weird. You shook your head and sighed. Now you wanted to go home. Things were getting weird.

You turned over to face the three of them, scooting in close to Mingi. Doha was talking about what he did today while Mingi occasionally chimed in. Yohan was practically dozing off by now, his head resting on Doha’s shoulder.

Usually, you could just command the members and they’d do whatever you ask. Other times you would act ‘cute’ to get them disgusted enough to do whatever you want. Since you didn’t exactly feel like putting on the usual leader persona, you mustered up a disgustingly cute ‘aegyo.’

“Minnie~” you whispered, moving to rest your head on Mingi’s shoulder. His body flinched immediately with your touch. There was a slight sting in your heart at his reaction but you pushed through, using your hand to grip at his shirt as you gazed up at him.

You batted your eyelashes, pouting your lips. “I wanna go home… but not without you~” you let out a particularly high pitched whine before a little giggle spilled out. You’d rarely do aegyo as the leader that it was hilarious to yourself whenever you did, especially with the reaction your members usually gave you.

“Holy shit.” Doha suddenly said, catching your attention.

“Doha!” You said, your act long gone. “No cussing on live!” Just as you were about to reprimand him even more, Mingi ended the live swiftly. He slipped your phone in his pocket and sat up so fast you got whiplash for him. “Minnie—?”

Mingi grabbed your hand and pulled you up without any effort. You could only watch in shock as he tugged you out of the dance practice room. Doha was heard laughing behind you.

“Wait for us, lovebirds!”

Lovebirds?

“Minnie, was it that bad?” You asked, not bothering to pull your hand away as Mingi guided you to the company’s van to take you home. “I won’t do it again if it bothered you—!”

You squealed as Mingi suddenly turned around, his hands now grasping your shoulders as he stared down at you. Wait, when did he get taller? Were you always shoulder height in comparison to him?

“Don’t.” Mingi said, his grip tightening. “Don’t stop. I liked it.”

Your eyes widen as you stared at him. Like? He liked it? Your cheeks flushed before you pushed away any weird thought in your head. “Haha, yeah, it’s funny seeing someone like me do aegyo, huh?”

Mingi’s eyes narrowed as he was about to speak until Doha walked outside with Yohan on his back. Yohan was knocked out cold as he snored. Doha walked over to you two and smirked, ignoring the glare Mingi sent his way.

“Too slow, Mingi. Better luck next time~!” Doha chuckled, going over to the van as the driver opened the door.

“Hm?” You asked, tilting your head. “Next time for what..?”

Mingi shook his head, releasing his grip on you. “Nothing. Let’s go. It’s late.” He pulled out your phone and handed it over to you. “You said you’ll only go home with me.”

You blushed. “Ah, yeah. Let’s go home.”

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

It wasn’t even a full hour when the NSFW side already had photos and clips of the live. You were going to sleep as soon as you got home but was itching to see what was happening online.

Unsurprisingly it was mostly of Mingi. You understood why, he was handsome. Even barefaced he looked like a god in comparison to you. But even then you couldn’t help but feel bitter.

You decided to visit the accounts you got to know from before. They were mostly talking about the little Doha and Yohan moment. It was actually pretty sweet.

A few talked about Yohan’s weird attack on you but mostly on how dominate he was. Just gushing about how sexy he was, nothing about you.

You almost just went to bed when you came across a post of you and Mingi.

It was of your aegyo. Through the video you got to see Mingi’s face as you touched him. It was different than what you had originally thought. You had thought he was annoyed or even disgusted by your actions… but in the video that couldn’t be further from the truth.

His eyes practically laser focused on you as soon as you rested your head on his shoulder. Mingi’s free hand twitched, almost reaching over to touch you before quickly resting back down on his lap.

It’s after you say you wanted to go home with Mingi that his jaw tightens and the live ends immediately.

That doesn’t make sense, why did you affect him that much?

You scrolled through the comments before seeing one that made you pause.

→ he’s so fucking cringy… why does he keep bothering Minnie like that? He’s not even cute like Hyojin

Huh. Your first ever hate comment… that you’ve seen. You couldn’t help but want to defend yourself but you didn’t need to. A few Miras had already taken to defending you against the other so called Mira. You sighed and turned off your phone, knowing that if you stayed any longer you’d go too deep into the rabbit hole of hate spewed against you.

You tried to ignore the words you read, knowing that the thoughts of someone you don’t know doesn’t matter. But it’s easier said than done. Just as you begin wallowing in self pity, your bedroom door opens.

Mingi slips into your room, making no attempt to explain himself as he gets on your bed. He almost goes straight to bed before seeing your face. His sleepy demeanor is gone as he sits up, reaching over to turn on the lamp on your nightstand.

Your eyes squint as you cover the bright light with your hand, “Minnie, warning next time.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Hm..? What do you mean?”

Mingi frowned. “Your face. You look upset. What happened?”

“It’s nothing. I just… I just y’know, poked into fan territory.” You said, deciding to just leave it at that.

“Why do you care about what they think?”

“They’re our fans, they support us.”

Mingi rolled his eyes, “so? Just because they give us their money, they get to talk shit about us? What did you read?”

Your lips pursed as you looked away, not wanting to continue the conversation. But you had no choice as Mingi reached over and grabbed your face, turning your head to face him again. What’s with it and people grabbing your face?!

“Tell me, Hong (Name).”

If you weren’t shocked you would’ve reprimanded him for saying your name without any honorifics.

“Someone… said that I’m cringy. It’s silly, I know. But I’ve… I’ve noticed that not many Miras like me, haha.” You bit your lip, feeling tears well in your eyes. “It’s nothing serious but I wish.. I wish they liked me like they like you.”

The embarrassment began to rise in your chest as you wanted to hide underneath the covers.

“Stop caring about what they think.” Mingi said, his thumb wiping at the tear that managed to escape down your cheek. “Only care about what I… our group thinks about you.” He leaned in, his nose brushing against yours as you sniffled.

“Okay. Okay.” You whispered, letting out a laugh. “It’s so bad, I’m crying to the maknae about something so trivial.”

Mingi didn’t share that sentiment. His gaze harden as his brows furrowed, “you always do this.” He suddenly said.

“What—?”

“—you just view me as the maknae. I’m not seventeen anymore. I’m not a kid.”

“I.. I know but I’m just used to taking care of you..”

“Well stop.” He said it with such finality that it caused you to panic. What did he mean stop? Did he.. did he not need you anymore?!

“Stop..? But.. but…”

“Let me take care of you.” Mingi whispered, causing your breath to hitch. You didn’t get to question him as his lips pressed against yours. Your eyes widen as you reached up and gripped at his shirt, unable to put in the effort to push him away.

Why were you keeping him so close?

Mingi’s soft kiss felt as if he was fearful to really touch you. But as he noticed you weren’t putting up a fight, he immediately deepened the kiss. His lips claimed yours as he hungrily kissed you, one of his hands sliding down to reach underneath you and grip your ass.

You gasped into the kiss, allowing his tongue to slip in with ease. Your hands pathetically gripped at his shirt as you could only go through with the motions. Mingi seemed so experienced, did he kiss people before?

But you wouldn’t know…

Mingi was your first kiss.

Hong (Name), twenty-five years old who hasn’t so much as held hands romantically with someone.

You’d never imagine your maknae would be your first kiss. Especially for him to take the lead like this.

When his hand suddenly moved to your pajama pants, you quickly regain control over yourself. You pulled away from the kiss and gripped Mingi’s hand. The kiss practically took your breath away as you stared up at him.

Mingi didn’t look embarrassed at all, he looked relieved. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while now.”

You blushed. “H..Huh? Mingi, what are you saying?”

“I like you. I’ve liked you for years. But you always kept me at a distance.” He said, leaning in close to press a chaste kiss on your lips. You wished you could say you hated it. As he pulled away, he looked you in the eye before smiling. “It’s ok. I don’t expect a response right now.”

“Response..?”

Mingi only hummed. “But now I’ll do what I’ve always wanted to do.” He pulled away from you.

You watched as he got up from the bed. “Where are you going?”

“To take care of something. Go to sleep, Hyung.” Mingi said, giving you slight grin as he left your room.

It didn’t take a genius to know what he was referring to. Your cheeks felt hot as you glanced down at your own crotch, checking to see if it was hard. Luckily you didn’t get hard from a simple kiss.

But Mingi did…

Was he.. was he that excited about finally confessing?

You cursed to yourself, lying down on your bed. You were going to need a few days.. weeks even to make sense of this.

The boy you took care for four years straight just told you that he never thought of you as an older brother figure. He wanted you romantically.

That means… this entire time, you’ve been reading the relationship wrong!

Fuck, what if you had the wrong idea about how your other relationships with the group was like?

You weren’t going to be able to sleep tonight!!

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

You haven’t been able to sleep in general. It had only been two weeks since Mingi’s confession and he hasn’t acted out of character since. Sure he was a bit more touchy but he acted relatively normal. You wondered if you dreamt that night.

The other members could immediately tell something happened but you weren’t privy to their conversation.

Seemed like they had a group chat without you.

You certainly weren’t feeling left out, no way.

The group was holding a small little fan meeting outside the company. It was something the company did occasionally to allow people that couldn’t pay for real fan meetings to see you guys.

Perhaps one of the few good things your company did.

Since it wasn’t a real fan meeting you all just dressed in your regular outfits and really had no set plan on what to do.

While you liked it the whole outside fan meets, you soon started dreading them. You were always left on the side lines. Although Kihyun and Mingi were the most popular—Doha, Yohan, and Hyojin still had people calling their name.

You hardly had people call your name. But it was okay. You were the leader, you were strong. Though it honestly felt like Miras didn’t see you as a member but as a manager.

How they got to this conclusion was beyond your comprehension but the company actually tried to fix this. However that hardly helped. Yohan had believed it was because of the stupid persona they assigned to you didn’t fit your personality at all.

And while you agreed, the company wasn’t going to change your branding. So long as Miras didn’t hate you—you’d just have to deal with being ignored.

So, here you were, outside in the large courtyard the company had blocked off for the fan meet. There was a slight barrier between you and Miras as extra security since the fandom had grown heavily compared to last time.

There were way more Miras than last time. Especially more male Miras. The fanbase was majority girls, so it was shocking to see guys.

You stood in the center right between Kihyun and Hyojin. Miras were asking short questions for each member but you were getting skipped repeatedly. Hyojin seemed to notice based on the glance he gave you when they skipped you to ask him another question.

“(Name) Hyung,” Hyojin said, holding the mic up to his face as he gave you slight grin. His black hair was brushed back into a cute little ponytail. “Do you know any girl group dances?”

He gave the question directed to him to you. You couldn’t help but grin. He was your favorite for a reason, though you really loved each member equally.

You pursed your lips as you exaggerated your body language, “hmmmm, maybe~? Do you wanna see Hyung dance?”

“Waaah!” Yohan suddenly yelled into his mic, “dance, dance!! I wanna see!”

Kihyun hummed in agreement. “Dance for us, Hyung.”

They all suddenly gave you some space, making you realize they were serious. You glanced over at Mingi who was watching you like a hawk. His gaze was so intense that you quickly looked away.

You pulled off your trench coat, earning a teasing whistle from Doha. Kihyun took your coat for you as you walked over to the manager who was controlling the speaker. As you whispered the song to him, you walked back to the center and tried to fight back any embarrassment.

You danced in a choker for god sakes, you can do do a short little dance for a crowd of 100 people.

As the song started, Miras went silent in shock.

Miniskirt by AOA.

You immediately began the dance to the chorus, trying your best to fight the urge to laugh. The song cut off after you finished the chorus. It was embarrassing to say the least as you grabbed your mic from off the ground.

Before you could even say anything, Miras immediately began screaming. You shook your head as Kihyun handed over your coat.

“Sexy, Hyung~” Yohan teased, walking over to you as he wrapped his arm around your neck. “When did you learn that dance?”

“You’re not the only one who learns dances in his spare time.” You answered, grinning when Yohan pouted in response.

“Hyung is getting too sexy,” Kihyun suddenly said, “we’ll have to leash him soon.”

Mingi hummed in response, his gaze right on you, “I’ll have to tame him.”

Tame? You blushed at Mingi’s words. Why did he only say I?! If any of the other members noticed, they didn’t say anything. Doha immediately took over with the next question.

The rest of the hour was spent with other silly stuff. You would get a bit more questions this time around which was nice. Yohan and Mingi were now on either side of you.

Yohan still had his arm around your neck, occasionally giving his own questions over to you.

Mingi would just ignore the question to ask you something instead.

It was rounding near the end of the meet, the temperature beginning to drop. You subconsciously pressed closer to Yohan for some warmth. Yohan was only two inches taller than you.

Almost everyone had grown taller than you despite you not noticing.

“Miras, thank you for coming to see us. We have a special announcement coming next week, I hope you’re ready!” You said, grinning.

Miras began yelling out “I love you” to their own bias. This was always your least favorite part, you usually never got anything. It was always so awkward when it was your turn and they ended just giving you a pity “I love you.”

But this time, when it was your turn, it was hardly silent.

A male voice yelled, “사랑해요, (Name)-Ssi♡♡♡!!!”

You stared into the crowd in shock as you tried to see which guy it was before another guy yelled out “I love you” to you. A few more guys yelled it right after them as you felt your lip quiver.

Your eyes welled with tears as you tried your best to deliver a quick “thank you,” only to end up whimpering into the mic instead. You were already crying as Yohan patted your back, tugging you closer.

“Aigoo, you’re so emotional, Hyung.” Yohan joked, though his hand was comforting on your back. You sniffled in his shoulder before wiping at your face. The idea that you’d cry over something so small felt like a sick joke, but here you are.

When you finally parted from Yohan to say goodbye, a hand slipped into yours. You looked over to see Mingi staring straight ahead. His hand tightened around yours.

You almost felt like crying again, which you did. Yohan took over to say the final goodbyes once he realized you couldn’t say anything now.

Mingi kept his grip on your hand tight as you all walked back into the company building. He didn’t let go even when you attempted to pull away.

“Are you okay, Hyung?” Hyojin asked, handing you a tissue. You graciously accepted it and wiped at your face. You did not want to know how pathetic you looked right now.

“That’s the first time I’ve seen guys at our fan meet,” Doha laughed, shaking his head. “Looks like they only came for you.”

You blew your nose before looking over at Doha, “what do you mean?”

“They didn’t say anything for us.” Kihyun said. “They only cared about you.”

They only came for you…? That didn’t—

“(Name), Gaeul and I need to talk with you for a minute.”

You looked back to see your manager walking over to you. His name was Dawon. He was only one year older than you, your only hyung. Miracle had two managers, Dawon and Gaeul. The company thought having Dawon was good, since he was close in age.

Gaeul was near the door, nodding her head as she motioned for you to come over. She was older but only in her mid thirties.

Mingi’s hand suddenly tightened its grip when you made the attempt to pull away. You glanced back over at him, tilting your head. Mingi was staring straight at Dawon, a strange scowl on his face.

What could he be angry about?

Dawon only rolled his eyes. “It’s just a business talk. C’mon, (Name).” He didn’t wait to see if you were coming as he walked over to Gaeul.

“Minnie, let go.” You said, reaching down to gently pry Mingi’s hand away. He subconsciously tightened his grip before pulling away as if he was burned.

Before you could even question why he was acting so strangely, Doha wrapped his arm on Mingi’s shoulder. “We’ll wait for you in the van.”

The others waved as they walked away. It took a minute before Doha could properly pull Mingi away. You only watched, wondering what was happening to your maknae. So weird.

You shook your head and walked over to Dawon and Gaeul. They stopped whatever conversation they had to look over at you. Dawon was good at hiding his emotions so you knew not to look at him for any answers.

Gaeul however was practically bouncing on the ball of her heels. “(Name)! I have good news for you.” She said, a grin spread on her lips.

“What is it?”

“So,” she started, clearing her throat. “You know how I’ve been trying to get the company to stop with the ridiculous boyfriend marketing… and while I haven’t gotten anywhere—they are changing the marketing for you specifically!”

You glanced over at Dawon who only nodded. “Change my marketing? Why are they changing their mind?”

“Because of this!” Gaeul pulled out her phone and showed a picture. It took a minute before you could properly understand what the picture meant.

It was of a list, a ranking of male idols favorited by gay/bisexual men. And you were in top twenty?!

“None of the members ever made it to the top fifty but you shot up to top twenty in only three weeks!” She squealed. “Ever since the whole choker performance, your fancam went viral outside of Miras space and hit it within the gay men community.”

Dawon hummed. “They found you sexy mostly.” He pulled out his own phone to show you something. “The sales of your solo photo book sold out quickly, even though you were usually the one to have more than half left.”

You tried not to be upset at Dawon’s slight dig. It wasn’t like he was wrong.

“But!” Gaeul cut in, the excitement not leaving her face. “They don’t only find you sexy, they find you cute!”

“Was it because of the Cinderella costume?” You asked, frowning slightly.

“No. Well they did like that but someone started posting old videos of you before the company started making you tone down your personality—they love your real personality the most! Almost everyone can tell you’re not stoic at all.” Gaeul hummed.

“Okay…” you muttered, slightly happy at it seemed people could appreciate the real you.. but still, it wasn’t like it was Miras. “Well how are they changing my marketing?”

Dawon patted your back. “They’re making you do a special stage in a month for the comeback.”

“Like a solo song..?”

“Yup! It’s technically a test to how well solo songs in albums will do but also to see just how much these fanboys will do cheer you on.” Gaeul grinned. “Aren’t you excited?! You no longer have to put on a fake act anymore for the cameras.”

“Though it’s not like you were exactly good at it,” Dawon laughed, poking your cheek. “You could only keep the persona for a second before cracking. You’re too sweet.”

You blushed, pushing his hand away. “How will the boys feel about this..? I don’t want to do anything to strain our relationship, it only feels like recently that they’ve…”

“I’ll talk to them.” Dawon said. “I was the one to tell them about you first anyway, I can do it again.”

Gaeul nodded. “I think they’ll be happy for you. Besides you’ve guys done solid stages before when preforming other people’s songs, this time you’re preforming an original song. You’ll finally get solo activities!”

Your ears peaked up at that. Solo activities? Almost everyone else had attended an event or interview by themselves at least once. You had none…

Maybe this was your big break..? Not to leave the group, but to finally not feel like a filler member?

“Anyway,” Gaeul said, breaking your thoughts. “You’ll learn more when we get close to the mini album promotion. All I know is that you’ll preform the solo song before the album comes out to draw out hype.”

That made your heart drop to your ass. You..? You alone?! No one way the company was going to use you to draw out hype. It felt whiplash—the filler member to being used for promotion.

You needed to rest and cry and laugh in excitement and fear.

After promising to not tell the other members until Dawon did, you walked to the van outside. The members didn’t seem to care about what happened or at the very least knew you probably wouldn’t tell them.

You moved to sit down beside Hyojin, putting on your seatbelt. However, just as the driver was about to drive, Mingi suddenly made Hyojin switch seats so now he sat in the middle, you right beside him.

Mingi didn’t say anything as he just pulled out his phone and typed away. You could only stare at him before shaking your head, unable to stop the slight smile on your lips.

He was so clingy.

The drive was quick as you all made it back to the apartment complex. Everyone immediately went to their room, ready to drop dead and sleep.

Mingi seemed to want to take care of you tonight as he decided to cook instead of ordering takeout.

As you watched him cook, being forced to sit down in the dining room when you tried to help, you couldn’t help but wonder why Mingi liked you. You didn’t believe you treated him any different from the others.

Each member had a cute nickname that you gave them.

Hannie for Yohan.

Hyunnie for Kihyun.

Dodo for Doha, (he hated it).

Jinnie for Hyojin.

Minnie for Mingi.

You would take each of them out for solo dinner dates once a month, speaking of which you need to plan them before September ends. Each of them got a thoughtful gift for their birthdays. You gave each of them affection, if they wanted, Doha wasn’t exactly into skinship.

What was it that made Mingi fall for you?

Was it your looks? But you were never complimented on your looks. Past companies even refused you because you didn’t have the ‘idol looks’ despite being a great singer and dancer.

Maybe he just wrongly assumed that he had romantic feelings for you… Yeah, that makes more sense.

No way someone like Mingi could ever—

“—stop thinking.”

Your back straightened up as you felt Mingi’s breath tease the tip of your ear. You stayed still, waiting to see what he was planning to do. How did he even know you were thinking?

“I can’t leave you alone with your thoughts for too long,” Mingi muttered, sighing softly. “You always manage to destroy any self worth I try to build within you.”

“How’d you…?” You whispered.

“There’s a certain face you make.” He said. “It’s obvious now—to me at least. I don’t know about the others. I usually pay attention to you alone.”

“Only me?”

Mingi pulled away from you, walking back to the kitchen. You didn’t even hear him walk over to you. He really was a light walker. Mingi came back after a minute or so with a bowl of noodles. It wasn’t anything extravagant—you guys needed to go grocery shopping.

“Eat, Hyung.” Mingi said, handing you a pair of chopsticks. “I’ll be sad if you don’t eat everything.” A smirk pulled on his lips as you grabbed the chopsticks.

Of course he’d guilt trip you. Hopefully the noodles are good.

Mingi sat down across from you, watching you eat.

“Where’s your bowl?”

“I’ll eat after you.”

You frowned. “Why?”

“So I can watch you. You’re cute when you eat.”

“Cute—?!”

“Mhm,” he hummed absentmindedly. “I don’t know why the company made me the ‘golden retriever boyfriend’ it suits you more.”

“The whole assigned personality traits we were given were so stupid.” You said honestly. You always made a point to never talk badly about the company in front of the others. But you thought back to what Mingi had said, he wasn’t a kid anymore.

Maybe you needed to change how you treat him. While he hasn’t directly complained, he must be upset about you treating him as if he was still the clueless naive seventeen year old.

But then you’d have to grapple with the thought that he’d never need you anymore…

That’s all you were good for, being needed? The company had said that you were the last member to be added. They just needed an extra vocalist and you were the only trainee that could carry a high note without straining. You were last place then just like now. Perhaps you’re just scared.

Scared that Mingi and everyone else will realize how much better they would be without you.

“I thought I told you to stop thinking.”

You blinked as you glanced up, seeing an irritated Mingi. He sighed and rolled his eyes. The thought of upsetting him made you forget all about your own self pity. You placed your chopsticks down and stood up, walking over to his side of the table.

Mingi glanced up, raising an eyebrow. He pushed out of his chair but just as he was going to stand up you placed your hand on his shoulder. Despite the confusion on his face, he followed your silent order.

His body was now fully facing you as you knelt down, inches from his legs. Mingi flinched as his eyes widen. In the moment, you weren’t thinking about how he’d take this position.

All you could think about was when you knelt down to him before, back before you all debuted. It was possibly the only time you were ever truthful to him concerning your emotions.

Your hand reached out and grasped his leg, your eyes gazing up at him. “I’m sorry, Mingi. I… I don’t think I can tell you everything now but it’s not your concern that I am this way.”

“Hyung—”

“—let me finish.” You interrupted him. “I put myself on pause when we debuted because I knew I was only there to fill in an extra spot. But I thought that if I took great care of you guys, you all would like me, maybe even appreciate me.. but then I started to like taking care of you guys. I love you all so much but then learning Miras don’t even think about me hurts so much.

“I wish I didn’t care about what others think but watching you and everyone else get the love you deserve… I just want it too.” You finished, resting your head on the inner part of Mingi’s leg.

Mingi flinched but his hand soon brushed against your face. “What about my love?”

You glanced up at him. “Your love..? Mingi, I don’t… I don’t know. I don’t deserve it from you—not someone as special as you.”

“You’re putting me on a pedestal. It’s so fucking annoying.” Mingi sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“Pedestal..?”

“Hyung, you’re special to me.” He reached down and grabbed your hand, staring right at you as you blush. “Being by your side of four years, I learned so much about you, that I—”

You quickly press your free hand against Mingi’s mouth, silencing him. He stared at you in disbelief before narrowing his eyes. That word. He was going to say it. It was different hearing it from fans—to hear it from Mingi felt like a joke.

“Don’t… not.. not yet.” You whispered, biting the bottom of your lip.

Mingi released his grip on your other hand as he reached up, grasping your wrist. He stared right at you just as you felt a tongue tease the palm of your hand. You gasp and try to pull away but his hand tightens around your wrist.

His gaze doesn’t soften as he presses soft wet kisses on your hand. You can only whimper and watch. He trails a kiss up to your wrist before reaching your arm.

You blush, feeling his lips now trail up your arm. He left light bites, occasionally suckling on the skin. Your lower body flinched as you tried to pull your arm away. But his grip doesn’t loosen. In fact, he tugs you even closer.

Your body slipped further between his legs as he reached the tip of your shoulder. He wasted no time before tugging you to stand up. His hands grip your waist before you could attempt to pull away.

His hands gently push your shirt up as he pressed a wet kiss on your stomach. “I can just show you how much I appreciate you.”

“Mingi…” You whimpered, your eyes widening.

“Mhm?” He chuckled. “C’mon, let me do this.”

Mingi returned to leaving soft kisses on your stomach, biting at your skin. One of his hands grasping your jeans as he unbuckled it. Your hands gripped at his shoulders as you simply watched him pull your pants down enough for your boxers to be free.

His hands eagerly grabbed a handful of your ass, kneading it. “It’s is fat…. Those pants they put you in flatten your ass, Hyung.”

“Mingi…! Don’t—!”

“—Don’t what?” His hands grasp your briefs as the sound of fabric tearing filled the room.

You shrieked, attempting to pull away but that didn’t work with Mingi’s arms around your hips. He hummed in satisfaction as he tore the rest of your briefs off. The torn briefs fell to your feet as you stood half nude in front of your maknae.

This had to be a joke!

“You’re smaller than I thought.” Mingi suddenly said.

“Smaller?!” You cried out, feeling a sharp hit at your self-confidence. While you knew you might’ve been on the smaller side—hearing someone else say it wasn’t exactly nice.

A kiss on your cock caused you to flinch, watching as Mingi kissed the entirety of your lower half. Right on your hips and close to your inner thighs.

“So pretty, Hyung.” He whispered against your skin. “Pretty just for me.” His hands grasped your hips as he licked the tip of your cock.

You whimpered, biting your lip as you gripped at his shirt. Your first ever blowjob by your maknae… holy shit.

The thought should’ve made you throw up but instead you were feeling anything but.

“Wait, wait..” You whined pathetically just as Mingi began to suck on your tip. Your body tensed as a strained moan left your tightly closed lips. Mingi pulled away, watching as your cock began to leak before pathetically cumming.

The cum dripped onto the floor as you took a deep breath, embarrassment rising in your chest. Holy shit, you came… you came before anything really happened!

You tried to rationalize it to yourself. You’ve never even held hands with a partner and while you masturbated, you had never been touched by someone else.

But Mingi wouldn’t have known that! And you weren’t exactly eager to tell your maknae that you were an inexperienced virgin… especially that he was your first kiss.

“Hyung…”

You glanced down at Mingi, ready for him to look at you weirdly when your breath hitched. He was staring at you like you were a full course meal. It reminded you of the video of you dancing on stage while he watched.

“Are you… inexperienced?” He asked, obviously trying to not embarrass you. His grip subconsciously tightened on your waist when you tried to move away.

“S..So what if I am..” you whispered.

Mingi smirked. “I thought you just knew how to hide your partners.. but you really were celibate.”

“S..So..? It’s not a big deal..” you wanted to put some clothes on now. “It’s nothing serious, I mean I gave you my first kiss.”

Time seemed to stop after your confession.

His grip felt harsh, nails digging into your skin.

“I’m… Hyung.. you don’t know what this information does to me.” He whispered, pressing his head against your stomach. Now that you couldn’t see his face, you wondered if he was upset.

It took a minute before he sighed, pulling away, staring right up at you.

“I’m going to fuck you, Hyung. But I need to get you ready for that.”

“Huh?!” You cried out, blushing heavily. “R..Ready?! Why?”

Mingi’s jaw tightened. “Because if I fucked you right now, especially with how inexperienced you are, I’ll scare you away… and I can’t fuck you tonight because I want you to choke on my dick.”

You sputtered, eyes widening. “Choi Mingi!”

“Hong (Name).” He smirked. “I’ll get you ready for me, Hyung… and once you’re ready..”

His teeth brushed against your skin as you flinched, unable to pull away due to his death grip.

“I’ll ruin you so that you won’t want to taste anyone else but me.”

Your sweet and innocent maknae was nothing like himself back when he was seventeen. Those stupid NSFW accounts were fucking right! He did want you.

You were screwed.

Literally, but you seemed to be making no effort to truly stop him.

Four years ago

Choi Mingi didn’t like you at first. How could he when Miracle was set to debut as five? He was already close to his other hyungs, why does he need another one? Especially one that was taking away half of his lines in the debut.

The other members, besides Hyojin, were also not too keen on your late addition to the group. Hyojin just didn’t care all that much in general.

Yohan was the most angry, he was the leader and now he was losing it to you! Someone he didn’t even know.

The first meet the group was going to have with you was with the choreographer. Luckily they hadn’t started teaching it but the choreographer had to change it to accommodate six people.

Mingi was particularly angry as they got to the practice room. He walked into the room only to notice the others seemed oddly quiet..? At seventeen he was still a bit short so he had to push through to the front to see what the commotion was.

And.. woah? From what he had heard from other trainees, you were supposedly ‘ugly’ in the company’s eyes, that’s why you hadn’t debuted.

But uh, he didn’t understand that at all seeing you front of him. You were cute, so fucking cute as you laughed at whatever the choreographer said to you.

Through the entire dance practice/meeting, he watched you like a hawk. Everyone except Hyojin didn’t say anything to you. Hyojin acted normal and treated you like a person, not some enemy.

But Mingi was stubborn—he wasn’t going to talk to you. He plopped down on the couch during the short break, pulling out his phone only for it to slip onto the ground. He groaned, sitting with his legs far apart as he tried to gain the willpower to get his phone.

However he didn’t need to when you kneeled down between his legs, grabbing the phone. You handed it over to him. Your eyes gazing up at him as you gave him a slight smile, obviously a bit nervous.

To think that the company said you didn’t have an ‘idol image!’ You were so handsome—no, cute. You were so cute that Mingi wondered if you’d end up getting the golden retriever persona he was given. It would suit you so much more than him.

Mingi reached over to take his phone from your hand. You leaned in closer, your free hand moving to rest on Mingi’s leg when you almost lost your balance. Mingi’s body tensed as he felt your warmth, of course he had to wear shorts.

“Sorry, Mingi-Ssi.” You said, your voice soft and sweet. Your singing voice was probably perfect. After handing over his phone, you stood up and walked over to Hyojin.

Mingi quickly closed his legs now that you were gone.

He had a fucking boner.

Yall don’t even gotta ask. Writing part 2 immediately, it’s a slow burn in that there’s not gonna no penetration sex just yet. Part 2 gonna have more cross dressing/NSFW tweets, this lowkey is a setup lmaoo

Tag list:

@secretivemessenger @euthymiko @the-ultimate-librarian @chill-guy-but-cooler @star-3214 @cherry-blossoms-187 @rhetorical-conscience @mooncarvers-world @remdayz @tomoeroi @ofclyde @iwishtobeacrow @smellwell @kiiyoooo @mello-life25 @tehyunnie @yuzuukix @bensontrechic @glittervame @love-kha1



[corkinavoid]

DDxDC The More The Merrier

Exactly a year after Talia brought Damian to Bruce, she shows up again. With another child. That looks like a carbon copy of Damian. She introduces him as Danyal, Damian's twin that was in an undercover mission for the last few years.

Bruce's eye twitches, but he deals with it. At least it's not a clone - Damian proved his mother's words to be true, Danyal really is his twin brother. So the Bats are just kind of forced to accept the fact. And the kid.

Danyal is a literal fucking menace. Contrary to Damian, he doesn't stab or bite, but he is absolutely chaotic. And, in addition to that, he has zero self-preservation instincts. None of it. The only two people in the family he has a truce with are Cass and Steph. Cass, because he has yet to take her by surprise, and Steph, because she is his partner in crime. Tim, though, Tim is on the verge of going insane with two little assassin bats running around the manor.

A year later, on the anniversary of Damian and Danyal's arrival, Talia shows up again. With, you guessed it, another kid. This one is a bit older - sixteen or so - and he has an angry glare that can be compared only to Jason's on a warpath. Dante, he calls himself, and the Demon Twins narrow their eyes on him. Bruce knows this look intimately. Sibling rivalry at its finest.

The next year is full of said sibling rivalry, performed by three highly skilled assassins. Dick is constantly worried one day one of them will die, and not because of a Rogue attack. The kids are fucking wild, acting like rabid dogs on steroids. They destroyed a wall once by throwing Dante through it. Alfred gave them a lecture. It didn't help.

The next year, Bruce opens the door to Talia even before she rings the doorbell. He looks at the four-year-old girl that looks like a mirror image of Damian, Danyal and Dante, and asks, tired and defeated:

"How many more?"

Talia only smiles. The girl looks at him with big, innocent puppy eyes that don't fool Bruce anymore.

Tim, who watches the scene through the surveillance cameras in the Batcave, pulls up a file and starts drafting his last will.

[crystalandparrot]

Kpop Demon Hunter x Chef! Reader

Part four << Part five << Next

When (Y/n) came back to the penthouse late that same night Mira, Rumi, and Zoey were sitting on the couch and talking quietly.

Mira was the first to look at the elevator and the last to stand up. (Y/n) shuffled over to Mira. Rumi and Zoey stepped away to make room.

“I just wanna say—“

“Look I didn’t mean—“

Mira and (Y/n) looked at each other in surprise, then (Y/n) giggled, quietly then very very loudly.

Mira suddenly began laughing as well, leading Rumi and Zoey to join. Mira stopped laughing when (Y/n) embraced her, trapping her arms against her side.

“No one could ever replace you, Mira.” (Y/n) mumbled against Mira’s panda nightdress.

Mira smiled gently, freed her arms, and held the smaller girl tight against her. She didn’t say anything, she didn’t have to. (Y/n) knew exactly what she meant by the way Mira’s arms constricted her breathing.

When they separated, Zoey forced (Y/n) to tell them about her new job. The four sat on the couch, Mira and Rumi cuddling (Y/n) from either side while Zoey sat between her legs.

“It’s a small group, five guys—“

“Guys?”

“Mira…” Zoey chastised, her eyes closed in peace while (Y/n) scratched her head.

Mira huffed but shut her mouth.

“They debut in two days, right after your concert actually—“

“It’s a band?” Rumi asked.

“Yeah—“

“Are they good?” Rumi asked skeptically.

(Y/n) shrugged, “I dunno. I haven’t listened to their songs yet.”

“That’s our girl,” Mira smirked.

“Bit of a coincidence they’re debuting right before the Idol Awards though, right?” Zoey asked. She peaked one eye open to look at Rumi.

“A lot of new bands do that, it adds mystery and hype to their band. Only really good bands have enough confidence to debut right before the biggest award show of the year—“

“Or really stupid ones.” Mira added.

“They’re really nice. A bit uncoordinated but maybe that changes when they’re on stage.” (Y/n) noted.

“A dysfunctional band leads to dysfunctional performances.” Rumi nodded wisely.

“What’s their name?” Zoey asked.

“They’re called the Saja Boys.” (Y/n)’s lips quirked up slightly at the name.

“Cheesy.”

“Tacky.”

“Hot—stupid. That’s stupid.”

When the sun rose the next morning the girls were already gone, off early to rehearse.

(Y/n) worked throughout the day, cutting vegetables, prepping ingredients, and taking breaks in between to write down meal ideas for the Saja boys.

Jinu and Mira have been texting (Y/n) all day. The latter trying to check on said girl, making sure she was okay, asking if she’s eaten, etc.. Mira had been acting more protective, but less over bearing at the same time. Jinu, however…

Ding!

Speak of the devil.

(Y/n) pulled out her phone and her face immediately lit up with a smile.

Jinu (bossman): Look at this picture of Romance

Jinu (bossman): (image)

(Y/n): Why’d you take a picture of him while he was asleep

Jinu (bossman): You’re focusing on the wrong thing

Jinu (bossman): HES SUCKING HIS THUMB

(Y/n): Your mean

Jinu (bossman): *you’re

(Y/n) chuckled then put her phone face down on the counter to prevent any more distractions.

Huntr/x deserved an amazing meal after today. Especially if they really did turn the Honmoon gold. Sure, any demons left would be trapped on the other side but—

RING RING RING RING

(Y/n) picked up her phone, only to deadpan when she saw Jinu was trying to video call her. She rolled her eyes but answered anyway. To (Y/n)’s surprise, Abby was on the other side of the phone call.

“Hey! What’d I do?” Abby asked with a smirk.

(Y/n) smiled and shook her head, “It’s not you—Jinu’s been mean today. I thought he might have been calling when I didn’t respond.”

“Tell me about it.” Abby rolled his eyes but kept a fond smile on his lips. Noticing the kitchen in the background, Abby tried to peer around (Y/n)’s figure. “What’re you up to back there?”

“Cooking, you know, my job?” (Y/n) stepped away from the camera to allow Abby to see what little she’s prepared so far.

“Why don’t you come do that over here?” Abby asked in a sultry voice.

(Y/n) laughed, “That won’t work on me. Try that out on your adoring fans after your debut tomorrow—“

“Oh! That’s why I called!” Abby got excited for a second and disappeared off camera.

(Y/n) shook her head. She had only known these boys for three days and they already found their way into her heart. They treated her like long time friends—like family.

Abby appeared back on camera. He changed from a grey short sleeved hoodie to a turquoise and pink Hawaiian shirt that look way too small on his frame. On his head was a yellow beanie and on his legs were light colored skinny jeans. He looked member of a boy band alright.

“That shirt is a bit tight, don’t you think?” (Y/n) asked.

“Mhm,” Abby hummed, “it’s so I can do this…” without much effort at all, Abby stretched his arms behind his head. His chest flexed slowly, stretching the shirt and pulling at the top button until—

POP

The shirt flew open, somehow not damaging any of the buttons, revealing Abby’s chiseled stomach.

“Oh! Abby! I get it now!” (Y/n) giggled, causing Abby’s ego to deflate slightly. “It’s good! That one will work for sure! But maybe not on stage, you want the focus on your dancing and singing, leave the abs for before or after the performance.” (Y/n) suggested.

“Like a teaser?” Abby asked.

“Exactly! You can’t just give the people what they want immediately when they want it.” (Y/n) added.

Abby nodded, taking the advice to heart.

“Kwang do you know where my phone went?” Jinu’s voice was heard in the background.

Abby frantically grabbed the phone, “Gotta go, I’ll text you on my phone.” Leaving no room for a response, Abby hung up. Soon after, a new number began to text (Y/n).

Unknown: Just barely escaped

(Y/n) added the number to her phone.

(Y/n): Glad you made it out safely

Bee: Yeah, but maybe don’t tell the big boss about me texting you yet

(Y/n): How come?

Bee: Something about wanting you to get comfortable here before we overwhelm you

Bee: Like that could happen

(Y/n): You sound very confident in yourself

Bee: But am I wrong?

(Y/n) left Abby on read, smiling at his message. He wasn’t wrong, not by a long shot.

Ding!

(Y/n) smiled thinking of the text Abby must have sent.

Ding!

Ding!

Ding!

Okay maybe that wasn’t Abby.

(Y/n) checked her phone. The group chat with Huntr/x was blowing up.

Bobert: Girls, do you know where Rumi is? We go live in two??

Zozo: I haven’t seen her since she ran off to take 5

Meerkat: she couldn’t have gone far

Zozo: I tried calling, it went straight to voicemail

Meerkat: (Y/n) is she at home?

Zozo: Maybe try calling her, she might answer you

(Y/n): She’s not here, what happened?

Zozo: Idk! She ran off when her voice started cracking during last minute rehearsal. I hope she’s okay

(Y/n): She will be. I’ll call her.

(Y/n) called Rumi multiple times, shaking her free hand nervously (a nervous habit she developed at a young age). There was no answer.

The more she called, the more (Y/n) grew nervous. Of course Rumi could take care of herself. There was never a doubt. (Y/n) doubted herself. What if she missed a feeling and Rumi got hurt? What if Rumi was attacked unprovoked. What if they did someth—

A violent pain on her hand forced (Y/n) to drop her phone. (Y/n) gasped and held her hand close to her chest. This had been the most intense her pain had ever gotten. What if Rumi-

Two faces appeared in a blurred haze in front of (Y/n). It was only then that the girl realized she had been crying.

“W-what if she—“ Zoey shushed (Y/n)’s stuttering and held her close.

“Rumi will be fine.” Mira said confidently.

“And your show?”

“We can do it another day. Rumi is more important.” Zoey said from (Y/n)’s shoulder.

Mira joined the hug, resting her head on (Y/n)’s.

There the three sat in anxious yet comforting silence.

All they could do was wait.

A/N: I love how passionate you guys are!! Most of you have noticed how (Y/n) is being treated like a side character, that’s for a reason. Don’t worry though, that will change soon 😈

The next few chapters will be longer, more movie oriented. After that we’ll get into some domestic life with the Saja Boys.

Ask yourselves a couple of questions for the next few chapters and keep your eyes out for little details that are mentioned. Celine has been keep A LOT from the girls, more than Rumi’s scars. Why can (Y/n) feel the Honmoon? Why can’t she see demons? How can she see the Saja Boys? The next chapter will show a bit more development between all of the characters.

Special 4:20 update :) next update will be in two days at 5 pm MST

Taglist: @ashleygryffindor @alastor-simp @whimsiecat @nev-valkyriesdottir @kashasenpai @yuurisfavblog @dancingpotatolol @vipxl @introvertathome @luv1ayala @galaxygurlll @insideoutjulie @tyresedidujsfart @katzline @boldlyenchantingfox22 @sidewalkenforcer @maroonanddelulu @eyes-ofhell @maryloudiaries @jennypenny-19 @raineandcl0uds @bubbabobabubbles @redkitsu03 @creativecupcake @sirens-and-moonflowers @tumblblob @asakiyu @mouchie @meowsertrix @nightlark100 @snowy-violet @t-wylia @littlemissfix-itfic @call-me-prodigy @bunniotomia @the-ultimate-supreme-gremlin @desiree-lee @a-cozy-little-home @mybradontfit @waltermis @gremlinartstudio @asillysimp @yayahufflepuff4life @theyaremorethanjustfictional @tsukimoon-chan @ari-mary @lostsomewhereinthegarden

[glowettee]

✧・゜: how to reinvent yourself before september even starts :・゜✧ (PT 1.)

hey lovelies! new series here!! (back to school series) i hope you all enjoyed your summer breaks!

you know that weird limbo space between august and september where everything feels both dreamy and suffocating? like summer is slipping away, and suddenly you’re aware that a whole new season is about to begin. that’s exactly when i start craving reinvention. not in the fake “new year, new me” way, but in the soft, intentional, i’m-curating-my-energy kind of way. september feels like a fresh notebook: empty pages, clean edges, no mistakes yet. so why not walk into it as the newest version of yourself?

today i’m going to share how i like to reinvent myself before september even starts, so when the first bell rings (or your first deadline hits), you’re already living in your new energy.

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ step one: your self-concept reset ･:ೃ.⋆

reinvention doesn’t start with clothes, planners, or routines, it starts with how you see yourself. ask yourself: who do i want to be walking into this school year?

i literally sit down with a notebook and write:

how i want to walk into a classroom

how i want people to describe me when i leave the room

what kind of energy i want to carry when i study, socialize, or even just exist

you don’t need to write an essay, just bullet points. maybe you want to be “the mysterious girl who always looks put together” or “the chill, kind one who everyone trusts” or even “the academic weapon but also unbothered.” give yourself a title. a storyline. humans are narrative-driven creatures, when you give yourself a role, you start acting like it.

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ step two: purge + make your environment ･:ೃ.⋆

before september, i do a full audit of my physical world. because the truth is, you can’t reinvent yourself while surrounded by old clutter that screams “last year’s me.”

go through your room, your desk, your bag, everything. throw away the pens that don’t work, the papers you’ll never need, the random clothes that don’t feel like you anymore. i even scroll through my camera roll and delete stuff that holds stale energy.

then, curate. print a few pictures or quotes that match your new vibe. rearrange your desk so it feels like a sanctuary. swap out your pencil case, your lock screen, your perfume if you want. tiny details shift your energy more than you think.

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ step three: appearance as energy, not performance ･:ೃ.⋆

reinvention doesn’t mean you need a full shopping spree or to cosplay someone you’re not. but think of your appearance as a mood board for your future self.

ask: what version of me do i want to step into every morning? maybe it’s glossy hair and oversized sweaters. maybe it’s sleek eyeliner and quiet luxury minimalism. maybe it’s a schoolgirl aesthetic with delicate jewelry. whatever it is, refine the little things, your nails, your scent, how you style your bag.

your look doesn’t have to be extreme. it just has to be intentional.

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ step four: rituals for future you ･:ೃ.⋆

routines can feel boring, but rituals feel sacred. i reinvent myself by rewriting my daily rituals. for example:

lighting a candle while studying instead of scrolling on my phone

choosing a signature drink for after school (iced chai, matcha, or whatever feels like you)

having a 10-minute skincare ritual every night before bed as a signal: “the day is done, i’m safe now.”

these rituals aren’t for discipline, they’re for YOUR energy.

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ step five: practice your new energy now ･:ೃ.⋆

don’t wait until september 1st to flip the switch. start now. the biggest mistake people make is imagining reinvention as a single dramatic event. it’s not, it’s rehearsal.

if your new self walks taller, start practicing walking like that today when you go to the store. if she studies differently, sit down for 30 minutes and test it out. if she speaks more confidently, practice in small conversations with strangers. reinvention is micro-acting until it becomes second nature.

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ step six: silence IS power ･:ೃ.⋆

this one is underrated: when you’re reinventing yourself, don’t announce it. don’t post “i’m changing guys!!” or over-explain it to friends. move in silence. let your presence shock people when september arrives.

people feel your energy more than your words. when you quietly shift, they’ll notice, without you saying a single thing.

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ final reminder ･:ೃ.⋆

reinventing yourself isn’t faking it or trying to erase the past. it’s shedding the version of you that feels expired and slipping into the one that fits better. this new series will be all about transitioning from summer break to the new school year! if you all have any post suggestions for this series, feel free to lmk. <3

xoxo, mindy 🤍

[glamorizethechaos]

All That is Lost

Warning: suicide, thoughts of suicidal thoughts, death, angst, pining

Word Count: 1.5k

Dana picked up the phone and her face dropped, eyes darting around The Pitt. Robby noticed her demeanor shift and immediately booked it to the nurses station.

“What is it?” Robby asked, motioning Abbot to come over. Dana was still on the phone when Jack arrived, hands in his pockets and brow furrowed.

“We need trauma 1 immediately, there’s been a jumper… woman jumped off the hospital roof.” She immediately went into high gear grabbing nurses and med students to assist.

“What?” Jack and Robby utter in unison.

“Where’s y/n?” Jack panicked, eyes scanning the ER. “Where the fuck is y/n?” But before Robby could answer, he was making his way to the ambulance bay.

When Robby turned around he expected to find Jack Abbot following suit, but instead was met with a panic stricken man, ripping open curtains, searching high and low for you. There was a pit in his stomach, thinking of all the times you two met on the roof after shift. All the times the two of you talked each other down from the unthinkable. The long nights of holding others lives in your hands, only to feel it slip away.

“Jack!” Robby screamed across the ER as the woman was brought in on the stretcher, Santos’s straddling her and performing chest compressions. “We need you brother!”

The chaos of the ER suddenly went quiet. He had tunnel vision as Jack barreled towards Trauma 1, struggling to put gloves on his sweaty hands. The ringing in his ears got louder with each step. When he pushed the door open his heart was in his throat. His eyes were open but he couldn’t see, Robby barking orders snapped Jack back to reality.

“Jack!” Robby barked

“Pupils unequal and non reactive.” Jivadi started performing a neuro exam. “Flaccid paralysis of all four extremities. Negative Babinski."

“What the fuck happened? I was in a meeting with Gloria and she got a call someone jumped?" You walked in putting your gloves on with a snap. Jacks head lifted with a jolt at the sound of your voice. Despite standing there in front of him, Jacks throat was still tight, and his eyes still glazed over. When your eyes met, your face fell slightly.

"You see a ghost, Abbot?" you joked as you pushed another amp of epi before taking over compressions for Santos. When he didnt answer, just continued to stand there frozen with a bewildered look on his face, you glanced at Robby.

"Get some air brother." Robby ordered him, walking over and started to walk him towards the door. He grabbed his shoulder firmly with a slap. "Jack, you cant be here, man. If you arent gonna help, you're just in the way. Go take a walk." With one final shove Jack stumbled into the hallway.

When Robby turned back around the room was tense, you felt all eyes on you.

"Stop compressions."

Asystole.

"Injuries incompatible with life. Time of death, 13:07." After a moment of silence, Robby called you out into the hallway.

"Whats going on with Jack?" he asked, burying his hands into his pockets.

"What? Why are you asking me? I was hoping you'd know?" you answered with a shrug.

"I mean with the way he was looking at you I figured..."

"Figured what?"

"That there was something going on between you both, I dont know. He was frantic looking for you, and then he froze. Jack doesn't freeze."

"There is nothing going on between Dr. Abbot and I." Which wasn't a lie. Unless you missed the memo, you two were nothing but close colleagues. Right? Sure you spent the end of your shifts together on the roof, sipping coffee and venting about the night. But it never went beyond that.

Dana waltzed over her eyes furrowed with concern, she turned to you.

"Whats wrong with Abbot?""

"Why is everyone asking me this!? I dont know!"

Dana took a step back at your outburst, holding her arms up as if to say "I surrender."

"Ok ok I'm sorry- I just figured there was something going on between you."

"That’s what I said!" Robby blurted with a goofy smile on his face. You pushed past the both of them, rollings your eyes and making your way towards the nurses station. You glanced up at the admission board before scanning the ER, Jack still no where to be found. You turned with a sigh, heading straight for the elevator, pressing the button with a ding.

You saw Robby running towards the elevator, but you promptly hit the close button.

"Catch the next one." you yelled, as he stared at you with a stupid smirk on his face, mouth agape. When you reached the top floor and walked out onto the roof you found Jack exactly where you expected. Leaning over the railing, head hanging below his shoulders. You cocked your head to the side when you saw the cigarette in his hands.

"You smoke?" you called out to him.

"Only when I'm nervous." he deadpanned.

"All the times we've spent talking on this roof, I cant believe I never knew you smoked. Just when I start to know you, Dr. Abbot." you took a few steps closer until you met him at the railing, nudging his shoulder with yours.

"I"m not normally nervous."

"What's wrong?"

He didnt answer, just shook his head and offered you a puff of his cigarette, which you obliged.

"I havent had one of these since high school." you smiled, bringing it to your mouth for a drag, only to start coughing ferociously. "You smoke menthols? Jesus Christ Jack, you could have warned a woman." you handed it back to him still coughing. He chuckled at you as you shook you head, throat burning.

"What's going on, Jack." you nudged again him when you finally caught your breath. "Listen, I know we joke aro-“

“I thought it was you.”

“W-what?”

He was quiet for a moment, letting the tension hang in the air as he snuffed out the last of his cigarette. You turned, leaning your back against the railing and crossing your arms over your chest.

“Thought back to all the times we spent talking up here. About work, our families… how horrible the Steelers are…” he tried lightening the mood.

“They aren’t that b-“

“They’re bad.”

You chuckled with a nod. “Fair enough.”

“I think you know where this is going.” You didn’t answer. Just held space for him as he continued to speak. The man who was known for eye contact was avoiding your gaze like the plague.

“There was that one time in particular. I told you about my nightmares. I hadn’t been able to sleep and was doing so poorly.” Jack had lost his foot in August of 07’ when his caravan was attacked by an IED. He still vividly remembers trying to help his dying soldiers before realizing his foot had been eviscerated and he too was dying. He left Iraq with a physical reminder of what he endured, of the men he lost. But when he closed his eyes, he was forced to relive the nightmare over and over again. He could smell the billowing smoke from the IED, he could see the faces of his fellow soldiers painted with blood, he could feel the pain in his leg that was no longer there, and he could hear the screams of the dying. Every August this became a nightly occurrence. Every year he braced himself for the torment.

“I remember.” You whispered.

“I told you I didn’t know how much longer I could deal with it all before I snapped. That it would be easier to just…” he looked over the railing at the ground below, letting his actions finish his sentence. “You told me that if I killed myself you’d bring me back to life and kill me again.”

“And I meant every word… the threat still stands Jack Abbot.” You chuckled, waving your finger at him.

“But you told me about…” he paused, shoving his hands deep into his scrub pockets with a huff. “About your suicide attempt in college, and while you were doing better, the thoughts still crept in from time to time.”

“They do, Jack.”

“So when Dana said someone jumped off the roof…”

“You thought it was me.” You said matter of factly.

“Y-yeah.” His sniffled, turning away from you quickly. He ran his fingers through his curly hair, and you wanted to reach out and do the same. His breath was shaky as he began to sob. Your stone cold attending was actually crying.

“Jack…” you whispered taking ahold of his hand. “I’m right here. Touch me. I’m here.”

He turned to face you, a single tear running down his cheek. He hesitated before running his fingers through your hair gently, his other hand cupping the back of your neck. You shut your eyes as his callused, overworked fingers brushed against your soft skin.

“I’ve lost so much… my wife, my men, he’ll even my fucking foot. I can’t lose you too.” He buried his face into the crook of your neck, raking his hands up your body, making sure you were real. Your breath hitched at his touch, hands traveling to his hair.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Maybe there was something between you two.

[hcneymooners]

⋆ our bodies, two wounds of love.

bodyguard!sevika x f!reader. men & minors dni.

synopsis: as the youngest daughter of a highly famous businessman, you're not at all what sevika is expecting upon receiving her assignment.

cw: modern setting, soft!sevika, reader is sugar sweet and slightly shy, reader has long hair, obsessive behavior, dubious consent, as in reader wakes sevi up properly like the eater she is but sevi consents when she wakes up, somnophilia, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, implied/referenced sex, via toys, implied strapping as god intended, overstimulation, impact play, it's pussy slapping, nipple play, squirting and vaginal ejaculation, praise kink, pet names, dom/sub undertones, minor violence, reader speaks german in this for no other reason than i've been watching the empress., soft dom!sevika, love confessions, near-death experiences, non-sexual intimacy, age difference, older woman/younger woman, mommy issues, implied lmfao, makeup sex, arguing, resolved sexual tension, masturbation in bathroom, accidental voyeurism notes: this is set to american by lana del rey. listen here. this is more emotionally heavy, but definitely my favorite. does this plot barely make sense? yes. but is the reward worth it? yes. this is a repost.

out of all her clients, you were the easiest.

sevika shouldn’t have been as surprised as she was, given the research she’d conducted. you were the youngest of four daughters, and the public fed off your penchant for privacy. finding someone like you in her line of work was a rarity: no scandals to cover up, no carefully curated drama for the tabloids. your reputation preceded you—sweet, quiet, and often tired. a homebody, mel had said with an almost indulgent smirk when sevika was handed the assignment.

“you’re lucky,” she added. “the others are a handful.”

sevika didn’t believe in luck.

the flat where she first met you was a monument to your family’s wealth. still it was tasteful—ornate without being garish, quiet grandeur woven into every polished surface. it was the kind of space that swallowed sound and softened the world's edges.

your apartment was beautiful in a way that felt intentional but not performative. soft cream and powder blue walls were traced with delicate vines and florals, the details long faded. it wasn’t pristine—scuffs on the wooden floor and fingerprints smudged onto the low, sculptural table in the center—but it was lived-in, loved in a way that gave the space its warmth.

the table itself was an anchor—organic and raw, its uneven edges smoothed by time, surrounded by cushions in muted grays and pale pinks that had lost some of their color to the steady heat of the sun. a shelf of books stretched to the ceiling, its rows crowded with novels and photography volumes, with stacks of loose papers and half-burnt cigarettes scattered between them. the window beside it was cracked open just enough to let in the sound of rustling leaves, the faint scent of rain-soaked greenery curling through the room like an invisible flatmate.

golden lamps shaped like oversized fans stood at either end of the space, their light pooling onto the woven rug beneath. it cast the room in a kind of half-glow—soft, forgiving—blurring the edges of things just enough to make them feel closer. there was something fragile about how it all fit together like it had been arranged for someone who might leave it behind at any moment.

and yet, it felt distinctly like you. the powdered jasmine in the air, the book splayed open on the armchair, the small dish of rings by the window—it was a home that asked nothing of you but to exist in it. sevika’s stormy gaze caught on an abandoned note on the window sill, the script delicate and curling.

cochem, it read. i miss you. i want to come back to you. i want to disappear inside of you and have you love me again. i want to get lost in the german morning. no one will ever know me, and i’ll be happy, less unfulfilled.

she fingered the edges of the paper, sun-bleached and flaking. then she began to walk again, navigating to what looked like the open door of your study.

you were waiting for her inside, perched in an armchair too big for your frame, as if the room had been designed to diminish you. at first glance, you looked as delicate as the furniture you sat on, barefaced and bathed in soft afternoon light that filtered through sheer curtains. it was the kind of light that made everything look fragile and translucent.

you wore an ivory blouse, thin and shimmering with embroidery that seemed to grow out of the fabric like frost patterns on glass. the neckline skimmed your collarbones, modest but deliberate, while the sleeves flared past your wrists, draping like petals. the cinched waist and pale drawstrings might have belonged to someone dressing for comfort, but on you, it was something else entirely—careless elegance.

the sweatpants should have broken the illusion. they didn’t. instead, they made you seem more unreachable, more unstudied. as if you’d wandered into this world from somewhere else—someplace softer—and were still too young to realize you didn’t belong.

sevika lingered in the doorway for a beat longer than she meant to, her presence large enough to make the room feel smaller. she expected you to bristle at the intrusion, to draw yourself up with the same cool hauteur that so often marked women of your standing. but you didn’t.

you looked up at her, eyes wide and unguarded, and smiled.

“hello,” you said. your voice was so soft, as though you feared disturbing her.

sevika’s eyes swept over you, cataloging every detail: the way your hair—long and heavy—spilled over your shoulders, catching the faint streaks of the incoming light; the way your blouse seemed to ripple as you moved, fabric clinging like a whisper to your skin.

“i’m sevika,” she said finally, voice low and steady. “your father hired my team's services to protect your family. i’ll be your bodyguard.”

you nodded and rose from the chair, the movement unhurried and deliberate. you smoothed your palms over the sides of your sweatpants—grey, nondescript, somehow lovely in the context of you—and stepped closer. you smelled faintly of something soft and fleeting: fresh linen, maybe, or soap.

“it’s nice to meet you,” you said, extending your hand, sincerity tucked neatly into every word.

sevika didn’t take it right away. there was something strange about you—something that tugged at her instincts and told her to look closer. your face was open, unguarded, but there was a sadness there, too, stitched into the curve of your mouth, in the way your lashes fell low. she watched the way you stood there, chin lifted just enough to suggest poise but not pride, eyes wide and unguarded as they searched hers for something she wasn’t used to giving.

trust.

and for the first time in a long while, sevika found herself unsure of what to do. you weren’t like the others, all obvious disdain and high expectations. nothing was demanding about you—nothing calculated or sharp. just the soft curve of your mouth, the quiet pull of your gaze, and a kindness she didn’t quite know how to meet.

she clasped your hand firmly but briefly, clearing her throat as she stepped back.

“we should go over security protocol,” she said gruffly, falling back into professionalism as a defense.

you only nodded, that same soft smile still lingering. “of course. whatever you need.”

whatever you need.

sevika didn’t believe in luck, but standing there, looking down at you—your long lashes fluttering as you turned your gaze away, the afternoon light casting faint shadows through the sheer sleeves of your blouse—she wondered, for just a second, if this was as close to it as she would ever get.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚

it took three years for both of you to understand that your relationship had outgrown the typical bounds of client and employee. yes, intimacy was inevitable given the circumstances, but even a stranger would’ve seen something uncanny about how you and sevika were… connected, even for a bodyguard.

love affairs always look different to those inside them. you thought nothing of how deeply you needed her, how fondness for her had quietly rooted itself in you. sevika risked her body—her life—to keep you from harm, and it felt natural to bond, to grow into one another. time spent apart became more agonizing only relieved by the hours you were together, yet you ignored the weight of it.

your sisters often spoke of it, though only behind closed doors. you rarely engaged in their chatter. you had always been this way: dreamy, untethered, with a mind like mist and the heart of a prey animal. lame, your mother had called you, her voice sharp with disappointment. sickly, she added, as if naming your frailty might cure it. over time, it became easier to withdraw, to wrap yourself in silence, and let the world chatter on without you.

but with sevika, life required less effort. you rediscovered a tenderness for the act of living in her presence. she was patient, grounding. she found you tolerable even at your worst, and for that, you adored her. no one else had made you feel this way—not men, not women.

while you preferred women, you had dabbled with men, more out of curiosity than desire. it felt clinical, an attempt to decode them like puzzles, perhaps to better understand why you and your father clashed. women, on the other hand, unraveled you.

the realization of your love came in two parts. the first arrived in the languid quiet of a holiday evening at your family’s upstate estate.

you had overexerted yourself in a lagree class, and sevika, ever watchful, had drawn you a warm bath. you watched her through the crack of the bathroom door, your gaze catching on the soft swell of her hips, the worn strength in her movements as she stretched after finishing readying the bed for sleeping. you often shared when traveling. she sat on the edge of it, her familiar perch, closest to the door. she always did this.

it was the smallest things about her that undid you: the way her hair slipped loose from its strict ponytail, the gentle sway of the gold chain brushing against her collarbones. you’d bought her that chain during a weekend in stockholm. now, the sight of it filled you with a sudden, vicious envy. you wanted to be that close to her—always.

the need consumed you. your body buzzed with an unnamed energy, teetering on the edge of itself. you wanted to crawl out of your skin and into hers, to dissolve completely against her warmth. you wanted her blood to run through your veins, her marrow to fuse with yours. your desire was feral, deranged, trembling like a dying pathetic thing.

without thinking, your hand slipped between your thighs. the thought of her—the sharpness of her profile, the tender press of her hands on your waist at the farmer’s market earlier—burned in your mind. you focused on the ridge of her nose, her beautiful nose. everything about her pleased you.

your fingertips pressed harder into the rosy pearl of your clit, and with a wounded cry, you came undone, trembling, your gaze locked on her through the crack in the door.

as if summoned by your thoughts, sevika lifted her head and met your eyes. her stern gaze pinned you, and you sank beneath the water with sudden embarrassment, your skin flush with heat.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚

the next morning, your pleasure still lingered via a morning glow on your skin. you woke to find sevika beside you, her strong shoulders rising and falling with the rhythm of her sleep. you lifted a hand and stroked her brow, cooing softly as she murmured from somewhere deep within her sleep.

she, you thought, is every woman i’ve ever wanted.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚

the second realization came during an attempt to kill you.

you were the chosen target—a calculated decision. your public image, carefully nurtured by those who sought to use you, made your death a tragedy worth orchestrating. the explosive had been hidden cleverly in the heart of your favorite restaurant, the one you frequented for its thick slices of fresh bread and macadamia milk.

when it detonated, your world fractured. your vision blurred, your ears rang, and blood trickled warm and sticky down your face. the floor rose to meet you, the lacquered wood pressing cold against your cheek. the world went in and out like the weak signal of a radio. someone was screaming—it might have been your mother, though you doubted she cared enough to wail like that.

through the haze, a hand cupped your jaw, firm but careful, and your head was turned until your eyes locked on sevika’s. her gray gaze steadied you, cutting through the chaos. you raised a hand, your french manicured tips trailing lightly against her cheek. one of them, you noticed, was broken.

“[name]. [name], look at me. don’t take your eyes off me.”

“vika,” you whispered, the name slipping from your lips like a prayer. for the first time, you saw fear flicker across her face.

“it’s me,” she said softly. “you’re going to be fine, but i need to get you up. i need to get you out of here.”

you didn’t want to move. here, cradled in her hands, was where you wanted to stay.

“i can hold you, princess,” she murmured, her voice impossibly tender. “if that’s what you want. but i have to move you first. deep breath, okay? here we go.”

she lifted you as though you weighed nothing, her strength unyielding. you clung to her, your broken nails digging into her skin as she carried you through the wreckage. bodies lay strewn across the floor, and your heart broke when you recognized the familiar face of a favorite server.

“it’s okay,” sevika said, her voice a steady anchor. “look at me. just keep looking at me.”

and you did. your gaze drifted to the soft curve of her throat; your face tilted toward her as though she were the sun.

when she laid you on the stretcher, a terrible fear seized you. you reached for her, desperation clawing at your chest.

“stay with me. bitte. bitte, ich flehe dich an.”

sevika froze. if it had been anyone else, she might have refused and headed back to assess the security breach. but it wasn’t anyone else. it was you.

“i’m right behind you, sweetheart,” she promised, her hand pressing firmly to your stomach. “right behind you. just in that car.”

“danke, vika,” you murmured, your voice breaking. “du bist das, was ich brauche. nur du.”

even as the ambulance doors closed, your eyes never left her. you focused on the faint hum of her engine trailing behind you, the sound steady against the fevered rush of your heart.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚

sevika was unforgiving after that, and you selfishly enjoyed the over-attention.

she stole you away, back to your flat, and hovered. always within reach, always watching, her presence as constant as the air you breathed. you hated it. you loved it.

she insisted on being in the room while you bathed, while you ate, while you tried to pretend your body wasn’t trembling from the aftershocks of the explosion. the weight of her gaze pressed into your skin like a second layer. she dressed your wounds with quiet efficiency, her fingers steady but firm, and even when you flinched, she refused to soften her touch.

“you should’ve told me this one was hurting,” she murmured one evening, crouched at your side with a damp cloth in hand. her voice was scolding, but there was an undercurrent of something wounded beneath it—something that hadn’t healed properly since the restaurant.

“it’s fine,” you said, looking anywhere but at her.

“it’s not fine,” she snapped, gripping your wrist a little too tightly before loosening her hold. “you don’t tell me when you’re in pain. you don’t—” she stopped herself, shaking her head as if to clear it.

her jaw worked, muscles tight, and you stared at the curve of her throat as she leaned over you, wiping dried blood away with the kind of precision that only made your chest ache.

“you’re smothering me,” you said softly, more to yourself than her, but her head snapped up like you’d struck her.

“you almost died,” she bit out, and the words made you flinch harder than her grip.

“but i didn’t,” you countered, hating the way your voice trembled.

you could be such a child. it crippled you, your desire to please her, to be less burdensome. she’d kill you if she knew what you were thinking. thank god it was your secret.

sevika’s lips parted, but no words came. just that unfaltering, infuriating look—one that said she knew better, that she always knew better, and that you knew this to be true. you raised a finger, traced the glistening edges of her teeth. she kept her mouth open; she never bit down.

and then one evening, you decided you’d had enough.

“i’m going out,” you said, pulling a thick coat of fur—vintage—over your shoulders.

sevika, seated in the chair by the window, didn’t look up from the blade she was sharpening. “no, you’re not.”

“yes, i am,” you replied, voice clipped.

her eyes flicked up to meet yours, the air thickening.

“why would i agree to that?” she asked, standing slowly, her full height suddenly overwhelming in the small space. “why would i let you walk out of here after i almost lost you last time?”

you laughed bitterly, shaking your head.

“let me? you’re not my keeper, vika.”

“really?” she said, stepping closer, her voice dropping to a dangerous octave. “should we do another read of my contact? i’m the person who pulled you out of the rubble. i’m the person who’s been keeping you alive, no thanks to your recklessness.”

“recklessness?” you snapped, whirling to face her fully. “if you’ve learned anything these past years, it is that i am rarely reckless. you promised me. you said you wouldn't be another dictator. you know what my life’s been like. i am allowed to have a life outside of this, outside of what has happened to me.”

her nostrils flared, and for a moment, she just stared at you, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

“you think i’m doing this for me?” she asked, her voice rough, uneven. “you think i like this?”

“yes,” you spat, the frustration spilling out of you in an unstoppable wave. “this is the most excitement i’ve given you. you must think i’m so fucking boring all of the time. so, yes, i think you’re enjoying it. it makes you feel important. ”

something in her cracked. she closed the distance between you in two steps, her hand shooting out to grip your chin, tilting your face up to hers.

“i'm enjoying this?” she growled, her breath hot against your skin. “watching you get hurt? wondering if this time i’ll be too late? don’t mistake my care for control.”

her grip softened, her thumb brushing your jaw, and suddenly, the room felt unbearably small. you could see the pulse in her throat, the heat in her gaze as her eyes searched yours.

“sevika,” you said. your self-righteousness had passed, and you were so deeply ashamed. “vika, that was unfair. i’m sorry. forgive me.”

her hand dropped to your waist, pulling you closer until you could feel the solid warmth of her body against yours. her breath was shallow, her jaw tight, but her eyes—god, her eyes. they burned with something that made your knees weak.

“bitte,” you whispered.

“i’m trying,” she said, her voice trembling, “to keep you safe. to keep myself from—”

she cut herself off, her gaze flicking to your lips. and before you could say anything, before you could breathe, her mouth was on yours.

the kiss was searing, all teeth and desperation, her hand tightening on your waist as if she was afraid you might disappear. you gasped against her, your hands finding their way to her shoulders, her neck, her hair. but just as quickly as it began, it ended. she pulled back, her breathing ragged, her eyes dark and stormy.

“don’t push me like that again,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper.

and then she was gone, the door slamming shut behind her, leaving you alone with the echo of her touch.

you crumpled like a paper doll and began to sob. outside, sevika, having turned back, pressed her forehead against the wall. absent-mindedly, the fingers of her prosthetic twitched and aborted their motions, jerking against the door as if fighting to feel you there.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚

you needed to repay her for your abhorrent behavior.

you tried through what you knew: lavish breakfasts, waking up early to purchase her favorite flowers and sweets. you’d even carefully cleaned and oiled her prosthetic. sevika said nothing, if only not to further provoke your guilt, but you could tell she felt it was unnecessary. she was always too easy on you.

the universe, however, seemed to agree with you, and the opportunity to protect sevika came faster than you ever expected.

it was another attempt, this time at a crowded gala in the heart of the city. you hadn’t wanted to go, but sevika had insisted—you wanted to go out. besides, you need to be seen. send a message. and she had been there, of course, always in the background, a silent shadow at your side.

you saw the glint of the blade before she did.

it was instinct. your body moved before your mind caught up, and suddenly, you were between sevika and the would-be assassin, your arm jerking upward to deflect the strike with the heavy bracelet you wore. the metal screeched against the blade, and a sharp pain radiated up your arm, but you didn’t falter.

with your other hand, you snatched a knife from the cocktail table behind you. it was small but sharp, and you used it without hesitation. you didn’t feel the burn of the blade as it nicked your palm on the thrust; you only felt the sickening resistance of flesh before the assailant crumpled at your feet.

“get down!” sevika’s voice was a thunderclap, her hand gripping your shoulder as she shoved you behind her. she moved with terrifying precision, her body a blur of strength and fury as she assessed the situation in seconds.

the room was instantly bursting with chaos. a flash of silver caught your eye as sevika swung her prosthetic arm, sending one of the other assailants sprawling. blood slicked the floor, and the copper tang of it hung heavy in the air. your ears rang with the cacophony of fists, steel, and slit flesh.

you shouldn’t have done that; you knew this. the headlines would be more than money could hide.

“fuck!” sevika’s voice cut through the din, sharp and furious, as she turned to find you standing there, breathing hard, your hands stained red. “what the hell did you do?”

“i—i had to,” you stammered, your chest heaving. “you didn’t see him—”

she grabbed your arm, dragging you toward the far side of the room where the air was clearer and less stifling. the fight was dwindling; the attackers were now being rounded up by security, but sevika’s fury was just beginning.

“what were you thinking?” she hissed, her voice trembling. “do you have a death wish?”

you ripped your arm from her grasp, your own anger bubbling to the surface.

“i was saving you! or would you rather i let him stab you in the back?”

“i don’t need you to save me!” she snapped, stepping closer, her broad shoulders towering over you.

“maybe i need to,” you shot back, tears pricking at your eyes. “i refuse to just sit here and watch you die for me. i won’t. you can’t ask that of me.”

her expression faltered, the rage in her eyes dimming, replaced by something heavier, something more understanding. she often forgot how young you were.

“princess, it's not—you don’t understand,” she said. “if anything happened to you—”

“you’d what?” you interrupted, your voice wavering as you stared up at her. “fall apart? i wouldn’t be any different, vika. you're far from inconsequential. i could not survive a world without you.”

the silence between you was deafening. her gaze dropped to your trembling hands, still clutching the bloodied knife, and she let out a low, shuddering breath. more security personnel arrived, breaking the stalemate. the room was secured, and sevika took that as her cue to remove you from the premises, dragging you through the back corridors, her hand iron-tight around your wrist.

the moment the door to your shared suite slammed shut, she spun on you. her eyes glistened as she glared at you, her body taut like a bowstring.

“you don’t get it, do you?” she said, stepping closer. “i can’t—” she broke off, her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

“you can’t what?” you asked, shifting toward her. “vika, tell me.”

her jaw worked, the muscles in her neck tightening as she tried to hold herself together.

“i feel like i’m so close to losing you,” she said finally, her voice low and broken.

the words hit you like a punch to the chest.

“you won’t,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “i can’t be without you in any way. i won’t allow it.”

her eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment, neither of you moved. the space between you was so heavy. all you wanted was to smooth the worried line of her forehead, to share water with her, and wipe her clean.

“you can’t promise that,” she said finally.

you watched as she turned from you and slipped into the bathroom to begin getting ready for bed.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚

she woke up with your head between her thighs.

sevika might’ve been more pleased about it if it wasn’t in the middle of the night. still, it wasn’t the worst way to come to.

the warmth spidered from her thighs to her hips before coiling tightly in her stomach. her eyes fluttered open, disoriented and struggling to focus. she heard you first: the wet suck of your mouth against her swollen, brown folds. you moaned somewhere deep and hidden in your chest, your hands tightening around the thickness of her thighs even though she was not yet bucking.

it took a while for her to place herself, and then it crashed into her all at once. she gasped and tucked a hand into your hair, which you removed so that you could intertwine your fingers, pressing them away from her head.

you unlatched from her and pressed a soft kiss into her stomach.

“stay still,” you commanded. “please.”

she allowed it.

you worked at her over and over, pushing the back the hood of her clit so you could roll it between your fingers like a rosy pearl. sevika let her pleasure crest until she shuddered into an unearthly orgasm, her legs snapping shut around your head just as a roll of thunder sounded through the early morning.

"couldn’t sleep?" she rasped.

you slowly unfastened her legs and raised your head from where you had been lapping at her, your full mouth glistening with her arousal. sevika sat up fully, legs shifting beneath the butter-yellow comforter, and stared down at you.

you looked back at her with wide eyes like she’d caught you sinning. you. you with your puppy eyes and open mouth. you, with your sweetness, with your eagerness when it came to her. you like a doe on the open road.

"no," you told her. "i couldn’t accept the idea that you hated me."

she sighed and cupped your cheek, thumbing across the plush skin.

"when you do or say something that displeases me, that doesn’t mean i hate you."

"if you’re displeased," you said, your voice thick across the last word, "then it feels the same to me."

with a huff of irritation, she yanked you up and into her lap, guiding you into a bruising kiss.

it wasn’t like the last time. this wasn’t desperation or fear—it was need. pure, unrelenting need. her hands gripped your waist, pulling you flush against her, and you gasped into her mouth, your fingers tangling in her hair.

she shifted you easily, rolling over so that you fell beneath her. her eyes roamed over you, dark and hungry, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe.

“you drive me insane,” she murmured, her voice rough as her hand trailed down your side.

“good,” you whispered, pulling her back to you.

soon, kissing wasn’t enough. you had hungered for her for so long, and she for you.

wetly, your lips broke apart, and she slid back to survey you. the soft, muted light of the room caught on the intricate lace of your undergarments. the set was exquisite; the bra cupped you perfectly. you saw sevika's jaw tighten, her hands flexing at her sides as though restraining herself from reaching for you.

“you look…” her voice faltered, her control waning. “fuck, princess.”

heat spread across your body, and you felt the lace press a little tighter against your skin as your chest rose and fell with shallow breaths.

sevika leaned in, her eyes never leaving yours. her hand rose, hesitant at first, before her fingertips brushed the embroidered lace at your shoulder. she traced the pattern down your arm, her touch light but burning, before resting her palm at your waist.

“you wore this for me?” she murmured, her voice low and dark, as her thumb swept over the sheer fabric, catching on a pebbled nipple.

“who else?” you answered, a tremor in your voice as her hand slipped to the small of your back, pulling you up into a soft arch.

she hummed in satisfaction and gently pulled your bra down so that it dipped beneath your tits as they spilled further into view. steadying you with a hand on your stomach, sevika leaned down and coaxed a hard bud into her mouth.

the wet heat of her mouth was akin to a strike of lightning. you moaned as she increased the pressure of her teeth, suckling eagerly at your chest as you pushed desperately into her touch. by instinct, your legs rose to cross behind her hips, forcing her to settle on top of you.

she let go of your nipple with a wet pop and switched to the other, beginning to work her way down your body with a pleased exhale. your panties didn’t even put up a worthy fight. they just slid right down, the fabric bunching around your thighs. the scrap of fabric had barely covered your cunt anyway, your thatch of hair poking through as if to tease her.

she watched your lips gleam and glisten, your pussy drooling with arousal and as deliciously plump as the rest of you. sevika pressed her mouth against it, practically a dog in heat, and relished the way you shivered up against her.

“vika,” you moaned and turned your face to the side in the way you did when you were overcome with embarrassment.

“baby,” she murmured, shifting so that she could force you to look at her. “baby, is this all for me?”

you whined, and sevika smirked, dipping her head down to lick a flat stripe up your dripping cunt.

“vika, fuck,” you cried, and she hummed, hooking a hand around one of your legs to pull it up so that you were further exposed. your clit was swollen and calling out for her.

pulling back, she used her free hand to part your lips so that she could watch the way you clenched around nothing. slick ran steadily down to the crack of your ass, a syrupy stream of desire. carefully, she stroked a metallic finger through your heat, holding you down as she began to rub your clit in tight circles.

“look at that pussy,” she murmured. “can’t believe it’s all mine, princess. thank you. thank you, baby.”

sevika couldn’t help herself and lifted her hand, bringing it down to slap against your cunt. you squealed, and she pressed a kiss to your thigh, delighting in your loss of composure. she considered you beneath her, your body slick and shining with sweat as you writhed. she rained two more strikes across your pussy in quick succession, dropping her head down and sliding her fingers in to let your buck into her open mouth and lolling tongue.

“taste so fucking good, princess,” she purred into you. “that’s it. ride my face, sweet girl. take what you want from me. take what you need.”

you gripped the bed, angling her hips so that you could drag her deeper into the cavern of your cunt. mewling, you trapped her between the link of your legs as you snapped upward and arched, cumming with a high sob.

“oh my god, vika.”

“just me,” she teased.

sevika waited for a couple of seconds before pushing up and rearranging you, sliding your back against her chest. carefully, she pushed your legs back apart and tucked three fingers up into your cunt, building a rhythm until she was thrusting hard enough that the overstimulation made you scream. you curled over yourself, your nails raking down her muscled thighs.

she milked you, patient and unrelenting, until you began to bounce on your own. you rode her hand. hard. slowly, your gummy walls tightened around her, whimpering through the flashes of pain and pleasure before you came again with a silent wail. sevika held you as you shook apart, whispering a stream of steady praises into your ear.

“good girl,” she cooed. “look at how good you are, princess. you needed this, huh? you’ve been begging for it, so desperate to cream all over me. such a good fucking girl.”

you slumped down, whimpering weakly as she pulled away from you. you felt her get up, slipping off the bed and walking somewhere into the darkness of the room. soon, she returned but not alone. you began to come back to yourself, and in doing so, you were able to focus on what she held in your hands.

“vika, that won’t fit.”

in her hand was a navy harness and matching dildo, girthy and ribbed. you tilted your head as she closed in, your hands finding her waist as if by instinct.

“sevika,” you whispered, your voice breaking as her lips trailed down your jaw, her teeth grazing your throat.

“quiet, baby,” she muttered against your skin, and you sighed softly, the sound catching in your throat as her hands slid lower, gripping your hips with a possessiveness that made you shiver. "you know you can take it."

you let out a pathetic, wet cry as she prodded at your puffy cunt, and her face softened. she pulled you closer, peppering your face with soft kisses. there was only her—her heat, her weight, her breath against your skin.

again she watched you, gripping you firmly from beneath your thighs as she nestled the tip of the dildo at the entrance of your pussy.

“princess,” she called to you, and you blinked blearily, clutching at her. “consider this forgiveness.”

it was all you ever wanted.

© hcneymooners.

translations.   bitte — please. bitte, ich flehe dich an — please i beg of you. danke — thank you. du bist das, was ich brauche. nur du. — you are what i need. only you.

[hollyhomburg]

Hold your Breath (Count to Seven)

(Pack alpha Hoseok focus, Background ot7 x reader, Omegaverse, Forced Caretaking, Omega scarcity au)

୨୧‧₊˚ Summary: When a performance keeps pack alpha Hoseok from tending to his sick omega, he struggles to contain his rage (and looks back on all the reasons he has to control his anger).

୨୧ ‧₊˚ Word Count: 16.6k

୨୧ ‧₊˚ Tags: Omegaverse au, omega scarcity, forced caretaking, idol au, Pack alpha hoseok x omega! m/c, Sicfic, Angst, Hurt/comfort, Background ot7 x reader, eventual Brat! m/c, Implied chronic health issues, themes of trauma, Hoseok has PTSD from enlistment, healing, Past Medical mistreatment, past neglect, Eventual smut, brief smut, Brief allusions to omega obedience training, Brief Dom! Hoseok, Breif Sub! m/c + Jk, referenced Dom Jimin + spanking, non-chronological storyline

୨୧ ‧₊˚ A/N: This was inspired after i got /dreadfully/ ill after seeing HOTS in march. i've been writing it for a good long while i guess! i'm open to adding more to the story if i'm inspired but as of right now it will only be 5 parts. Please enjoy it and let me know what you think! this story also does go non-chronolgocially, if we organize it by chronology this is actually the middle. basically it goes 3 < 4 < 5 < 1 < 2, but i think you'll enjoy the flashbacks of how they got togeather!

The sound of the audience and the rumble of screams and shouts are still ringing in Hoseok's ears as he exits the stage. The roar of the lyrics are a hum filling his veins. Adrenaline pumps through his system better than any drug or instinct. More addictive and more natural to him than breathing.

He’s sweat tacky in places he’d rather not name and yet despite this night- a show, the dance of performer and performance, the validation that comes from the screams of many waiting fans- despite all of that- Hoseok's still not calm. Hoseok's still not satisfied.

He yanks his in ears out, nearly tearing at the wiring the second he's clear from view. Not even bothering to put his microphone in its correct case as he moves, breathless and hurried in the direction of the dressing room.

A stagehand tries to help him, but after clocking the rage and aggression rolling off of him they think better of it and lower their gaze as he passes, practically curling in on themselves.

He's on alert, aggression a hairpin trigger just waiting to be pulled below his skin. Almost hoping for an outlet. The still lingering roaring cheers of Alphas, a good number of betas, and a sparse select few omegas ferry him as he cuts through the sea of staff.

By all metrics the show had gone well. He's not angry because he stumbled or because someone messed up the queue for the cube again. This performance had gone perfectly. It has nothing to do with why he's about to snap and punch someone. Maybe bite them. Maybe tear them limb from limb- yeah his alpha likes the sound of that. But none of this, none of this is what makes his blood hot in his veins.

That honor belongs to his omega.

You’re not just his, of course, you belong to the others too. But he’s pack alpha, so they all belong to him to some degree. The pups more so, his peers, Namjoon, Jin, and Yoongi- less. Being a part of a pack is more like belonging to matching a set and less ownership.

But not anymore. You're Hoseok's. In every way that matters. You're his.

It's hard to believe, but Hoseok was not always so possessive and exacting as a pack alpha. He never had to deal with any of this- the instincts and the near-feral need that comes with them before the pack became fractured. Broken in a way that can’t be fixed by words and promises. Leaving Hoseok's alpha to pace back and forth the inside of his mind like a monster caged and understimulated.

Hoseok wishes he knew what he was giving up when he enlisted.

Not that knowing would have changed anything. But at least then he'd have been prepared.

Hoseok has seven pups and seven packmates registered to his pack. four alpha's, two beta's, and one precious omega. He's never been without his pack for so long and before 22 months ago they'd never been apart for more than a few weeks. Enlisting posed new challenges, some that Hoseok thought he'd be better at handling by now.

But adjustment takes time. Healing takes time. It doesn't matter how many times he repeats that to himself. Nothing ever gets easier (You might disagree).

The military wasn't easy. They didn't go easy on Hoseok.

He'd never been one alpha among the many, never had his rage cultivated and honed as a weapon to be used and wielded by his superiors. Hoseok learned he was good at being angry- good at melding his body and his alpha together as one- it's only now that Hoseok's out that he's struggling to detangle his sense of self from his alpha.

He'd never been without some sort of pack structure. At least not in so many years. He'd presented with Namjoon and Yoongi- had dealt with their instincts and learned how to settle his own alongside them. A good thing too because a few years after when Jungkook and Taehyung had come along. Young and wide-eyed and entirely unprepared for anything like presenting- they'd needed a pack alpha to help settle them. Someone to guard and mind their instincts, to take care of them, to push when they needed pushing and get them to bend when otherwise they might break.

But war is different. Rage- Hoseok is learning, Is a particular monster that doesn't go down easy.

Of course they'd never been completely broken as a pack. Even now Yoongi is home in the pack house still doing his daily service and coming home at the end of the day. The last time Hoseok had been home (nearly 5 weeks ago before the start of the tour). Yoongi was still struggling; Hoseok saw signs of it everywhere.

His camo jacket wasn't in the house even, it's in the garage where he leaves his boots. Takes them off before he even sets foot inside. separate lives and separate alpha's. There are pack house slippers set up by the door. 16 slippers, 8 sets, color coordinated. Kept meticulously clean like the rest of the house. Namjoon's coffee mug left by the coffee maker, Tae's scarf laid over the chair. A still life painting. hints of the pack left undisturbed. As if they'd just popped out for a moment and where coming back later.

Maybe Hoseok should have realized it when Seokjin was discharged, how you and Yoongi had gone radio silent for 6 hours. How much more communicative Seokjin was after and how every day after he told Hobi how much he couldn't wait for the pack alpha to come home. A new edge to his tone. Hoseok should have suspected something was wrong.

Now that Hoseok's home, he knows. Jin had it easier. Jin's a beta Jin doesn't have a monster in the back of his mind constantly out for blood.

He knows that Yoongi's still not used to buying less than 8 people's worth of food at a time after so many years of cooking and shopping for 8. That he struggles to fall asleep at night- too used to the press of warm bodies around him. Now Hoseok knows that Sometimes when Yoongi wakes in the morning, his hands shake. Instincts and body unsettled.

Hoseok knows, for the first 6 months of his service, his hands shook in the morning too. Call it psychological dependence or physical addiction- Hoseok doesn't quite know what it is. Although Hoseok expects that had more to do with you.

Alpha's can grow dependent on omega's after all. It's no more addictive than a cup of coffee, and yet,

And yet…

In his worst moments, Hoseok wonders what the pack would do if they didn't have you.

If you hadn't have asked, Hoseok wouldn't have let you come on this tour, would have never dragged you across the globe from city to city and would never have taken you from Yoongi. But the fact of the matter is that Hoseok is...it's not that he's not handling this well exactly but...but...

But you'd pouted, and Hoseok (notoriously weak for your every whim and desire) had predictably melted. (He'd been a little oblivious to the thankful looks shot at you over his head, he'd missed the way that Yoongi had cornered you just before the start of tour, how he'd folded himself across you.

"I'll get him back, you know I can be persistent."

"I know, I'm just worried, he's so...unhappy." Yoongi finally settled on. Even if you're both aware that that's not quite it. "You know how I hate it when you push yourself.")

But trauma changes people, it affects everyone differently. Hoseok had changed.

Now Hoseok regrets letting you come even more. When he checks his phone he doesn't have a single text from you. Not a 'good luck on the show.' Or an 'I'll be watching alpha' or anything. Which is not like you. Hoseok shouldn't be so surprised. You're probably sleeping. You're probably just resting like you should be. He'd ordered you to rest last night.

Exiting the stage, Hoseok does try and settle himself. Pausing in the darkness listening the the shouting of the crowd, slowly becoming a murmur and rumble. 60 thousand footsteps trudging towards the exit.

He spends a few moments standing there, staff around him waiting on bated breath, waiting for him to move. He's at least practicing his breathing exercises even if his body still feels like a weapon poised to attack.

When Hoseok closes his eyes, he sees each member of his pack as a pinprick of light against the map. Five dots clustered across the ocean back in Korea, one here close by, and one on the other side of the world.  7 dots and 7 breaths.

Seokjin is in France for an event that left him looking glittery and bejeweled. But he's existed as little more than sinful pictures and soft check-ins on Hoseok’s phone. His phone buzzes, but Hoseok keeps his eyes closed and breathes before he looks at it.

Those check-ins are the only way Hoseok stays sane these days. The updates from Jimin and Jungkook- shots of the dinner they make for the thousands of other recruits. 30 gallon pots of honey potatoes. Recordings of Namjoon's military band. The few promos that Taehyung is allowed to shoot- although he out of all of them is radio silent most weeks. Hoseok knows it's just because he's military police and has a higher clearance than them- even though Hoseok's technically a sergeant- but still-

Taehyung is a shifting wolf, he has different expectations than the rest of the pack.

Hoseok isn't in the military anymore. He's just Jung Hoseok. Only Hoseok could never be just Jung Hoseok- no matter what universe you put him in.

As long he knows exactly where and what his pack is doing the instincts are a little bit easier to bear. As long as he knows when Yoongi's going to come home, when Seokjin will be done with his photoshoot or recording session or this or that and is ready there waiting at the front door for a scenting or a brief nibble at their throat. Hoseok's instincts stay mostly in check.

Mostly. It's easier if Hoseok gives in, just a little bit, to what his alpha wants.

Hoseok's alpha wants more than Hoseok can give him right now, Hoseok's alpha wants blood, wants to tear this stadium apart and hunt across the city, tearing through anyone that steps in his way until he gets to you.

They haven’t all been together in so long his body is almost used to it. His body has adjusted. It’s been months now but there is still aggression that lurks under his skin, alpha constantly roiling to get out out out out. To get back to his pack, to drag them back by the scruff of their necks to the pack house and place them gently in your nest where they belong. Damning laws and discharge dates and all associated consequences.

The truth is that Hoseok's alpha doesn't know what to do when they're not together. Will keep him awake, will keep him from eating or resting. He'd heard that enlistment time could be dangerous for pack alphas, that many don't survive their 18 months without going feral at least once. Hoseok had skimmed by the skin of his teeth.

In many ways, the fight between man and alpha is like a dance, Hoseok’s alpha asks for obedience and Hoseok gives him his body but not his mind when he can help it. He runs and moves, and puts every ounce of discipline and dominance into his dance. His moves are always mastered, never shaky.

Hoseok's not sure he'd know it if he went feral.

When he'd been announced as pack alpha back just after their debut, there had been more than one article that questioned why the sunshine of the group, the ever-smiling and genial member, neither the largest nor the tallest was made pack alpha.

But size has nothing to do with it. Now, no one wonders. After seeing him perform solo on the stage they bought and paid for with their youth and hard work. After seeing him and what he can do no one questions him. Hoseok made discharge look effortless, no one would ever guess. No one would ever wonder.

Other times, Hoseok's alpha asks for more than Hoseok can give without showing it. Like tonight.

The only thing that made their military service at all tolerable was the fact that for those 6 months when the 6 of them had been in active service- at least Yoongi had been able to come home to you.

There’s a text from him on Hobi's phone and he's not asking about the show. Yoongi always watches the live stream and usually texts him the second he's hot off the stage. Asking about how it went even though he saw it. Namjoon might be the group leader but Yoongi has always felt a bit more like Hoseok's second in command.

Hoseok has no doubt that Yoongi saw right through him tonight, saw the furious crispness to his movements, and was able to tell how close he was to breaking. Hoseok doesn’t doubt that the other alpha checking his phone every few minutes. Anxiously waiting for Hoseok's response.

When Hoseok is certain he has enough control over his body that the text isn't going to make him trash the backstage area. He checks his phone.

Yoonie (10:32pm): How is she? Any news? Has her condition gotten any worse?

Yoonie (10:33pm): I know you're probably already considering it, but you know traveling isn't healthy for omega's long term. She needs her routine. You should consider sending her home.

Yoongi has gentler instincts and always has. But even he can't stay settled when their omega is sick. Yoongi also wasn’t taken away from you for a year and a half and taught to kill so Hoseok thinks he’s allowed to be a little on edge.

Hoseok shouldn't feel so fragile and so volatile. He should feel better. This is nothing compared to how it was right after he got back.

Yoongi's not the only one who's texted, the rest already have using their precious 30 minutes of phone time a day to check in. Most of the time, Hobi tries to time his updates to accumulate before they wake.

Jin gets it, Jin understands. Even though he's a beta. His text came through just before Hobi got on stage.

Jinnie (7:05pm): Let me know if you want me to change my flight.

They’ve been separated for a year. There was only Jin’s discharge and then his that they’ve all been together for. They all keep in regular contact and that’s not difficult. They check in and text daily and call weekly. But it's never enough.

As a pack with a registered omega they’re offered some allowances by the government. They get more days off and leeway if one of them gets sick or injured (like last month with Taehyung- Hoseok’s little alpha, bundled close in the nest, face tucked under your chin, so achingly still. His newly big body oh so carefully placed so that he wouldn’t strain his cracked rib.)

Alphas don’t have a better reason to fight than for omegas and recovery rates are always always higher if an alpha has been scented by an omega. The boost to their immune system alone is enough to make omega’s necessary for the war effort. The government even employs some omega's and compensates them greatly for their service as scenters.

The pack would never think about going to a government omega, not when they’ve got you at home.

As a bonded pack there’s no use, it wouldn’t work the same (and Hoseok would never offend you that way). But there’s less time given if more than one alpha is out. It’s one of the few reasons why Hoseok went in first so that he'd be able to help them all adjust when the time came.

He never expected to be the one to have trouble with it. To struggle to turn his instincts off now that they've been turned on.

The people around must be able to tell that Hoseok’s on edge, and the crowd too. Their cries reached a feral pitch, the same shouting that still vibrates the stage beneath his feet. Rage rolls off of him in waves as he stalks back to the dressing room. Smile and grin and smirk falling from his face.

They must be able to smell it on him underneath all the smell of the show, the gunpowder and fire from Hangsang, the roil of steam from sweet dreams, all irrelevant.

This is what they’ve all been waiting for for what feels like years, a chance to be on the stage again, a chance to perform. This is only the beginning leg of the tour and there are still kinks to work out and problems to solve. The logistical nightmare of moving staff and stage across multiple countries never ends. Hoseok is used to this. Hoseok is comfortable here.

He keeps telling himself that.

But right now, Hoseok can't think about it. He can't think about anything else but you.

Because you're sick.

~-~

Omegas are so rare that not every pack can have one.

Only those who can supply an above-average standard of life usually get one. Both prize and packmate. They're more common in celebrity and chaebol circles. Having an omega in your pack is the ultimate sign of success and wealth.

Some packs even have two, especially if the omega's have decided they're nestmates. But Hoseok can't imagine needing more than you.

A disease two generations ago wiped out nearly 90% of omega's. The sickness left only the most looked after, the most cared for unscathed. But those that were alive by the end of the nearly 10 year period scrambled to cope. To this day the omega population still hasn't recovered in any meaningful way. They make up only about 1 in every 100 individuals worldwide, less in Korea.

Most omega’s go through a very rigorous courting period if they're going to belong to a pack at all, only the richest and well-esteemed packs can covet one for for themselves. The rest of the world survives off of government-sponsored nesting and scenting services. There are even government agencies in charge of omega’s. Each omega gets an id card and a social worker. Hoseok hasn't had to talk to yours in years. Omegan Health Services or the OHS that tracks any omega that might have come into contact with the virus and quickly disseminates antivirals and vaccines.

You have to get yours every few months. Hoseok makes sure you never miss your appointments. Usually, he spends the following day confining you to the nest, immune to your restless squirming and your insistence that you're alright, just a little tired. Resistant to his insistence that he carry you where you need to go, that he fuss over you.

Luckily- the rest of the pack gangs up on you after your shots too. Namjoon puts your bandaid on the inside of your arm and Yoongi soothes your stomach with bone broth and light food to support your immune system. Each spoonful blown at, your lips dotted with reassuring kisses between bites. Jungkook and Taehyung usually wrap themselves around you like a living blanket to keep the shivers at bay. Nosing into your spine.

Only Hoseok and Yoongi usually attend your appointments. They're a little too intense for the others. Sometimes Jin comes. But he's the most likely to burst into tears and then you end up comforting him instead of the other way around.

Hoseok is usually good up until they actually put the needle into your skin. He'd broken a chair the first time he'd seen it. Gripping the wooden arm so hard as he heard your intake of pain that it had splintered under his hand.

There's a genetic component to being a pack alpha. Jungkook has the gene too. Hoseok has always been a little stronger, a little more resilient than the others.

Hoseok has only ever missed one of your appointments. Last year, the year Hoseok was enlisted for your shot. You'd spent weeks telling him he didn't have to take a day off for it (he'd been saving all of his leave for his packmate's ruts and your heat, but even then Hoseok knew he was going to have to miss one or two.) You said you'd be fine, that the shot wouldn't be too bad, you've had them before after all.

Only you hadn't been alright, you'd had to be hospitalized for it. It wasn't all that uncommon, omega's have weak immune systems and yours has always been particularly fragile.

Hoseok hardly remembers it. The static through the line, he'd hardly been able to hear Yoongi's voice over the roar of his heartbeat through his ears. An emergency call from Yoongi, something about an allergic reaction, anaphylaxis.

He'd have gone awol if his commander hadn't granted him emergency leave. His brain hadn't stopped roaring until he'd draped himself draped across your hospital bed after making an 8-hour car ride in 6 hours. Beret off, spilled and fallen onto the floor, face crumpling the second Yoongi rose from your opposite bedside.

"Namjoon will be here in an hour, she tried to stay up for you but the medication they had to give her made her drowsy."

Hoseok hadn't been able to speak, to respond to him. The sight of you in the bed. Small looking. The cannula. Supplying your body with oxygen because it's not getting enough. Everything screaming at Hoseok's instincts wrong wrong wrong. Fight protect keep safe.

Hoseok was terrified.

They'd given him a tranquilizer to stop him from pacing outside your door. Apparently its a normal occurrence in the relatively empty but well maintained omega's only wing of the hospital. Guards watch him with nervous expressions as they patrol the halls.

After that, he'd been a little more susceptible to Yoongi's gentle request that Hoseok should come sit by your bedside table. And what started as sitting turned into nuzzling into your hand turned into closing his eyes for just a moment.

You'd been rubbing your hands over his shaved head by the time he'd woken. He'd been so sure he'd been dreaming it, but Your honey voice is so soothing after hearing nothing but shouting to work harder and run faster you're so weak private Jung, can you even hit the target for weeks and weeks that it felt a bit like a lullaby to hear his own name spoken so gently, with such tenderness.

"Hobi, Oh Hobi. You didn't have to come all this way for me."

~-~

This is thankfully not that. Thankfully you're sick with just a cold and not the virus. But Hoseok doesn't take any sickness lightly. Not when it comes to you.

Modern medicine has come a long way, but still not far enough. Omegas are so rare a good portion of the population even abandons the idea of having an omega entirely. They’re not exactly a necessity for beta’s but for alphas- it’s a different story.

Hoseok can feel the hum of scent deprivation under his skin. The itch unlike any other. Hoseok cannot smell you on him, not his clothes or his skin. Nothing beyond the smell of sweat and alpha annoyance. Through any other performance, he’d at least have the scent of his pack on him. But not tonight, not until June when everyone will finally finally be together.

You’d been sleeping through the morning when he left, and he’d been reluctant to wake you on account of how you’d fallen asleep last night- or hadn’t. You’d been sniffling and coughing the whole night away. Hoseok had kept watch over you through it all.

What had started as a brief tickle in your throat around lunch yesterday (an easy meal- vegetables for Hobi and a tad bit of meat for you, fed from his own chopsticks, every brief shake of your head met with a disapproving look that you have long stopped disagreeing with. Hobi knows how much you are to eat, there's no reason why you need to worry your pretty little head about anything). Had developed into a fever and a few minutes of terror while they waited for the test to develop.

You've never gotten the sickness before but Hoseok knows how it would start; a feverishness like heat, then tiredness. And then all of a sudden you'd go to nest and wouldn't get up again without medical intervention. Might not get up at all. Might stop breathing- might-

He repeats it to himself again. That you're not sick with it. That this is just an ordinary cold. He has no reason to be so on edge.

The fans tonight could tell there was something wrong. Could spot it. Hoseok knows they're wondering if it's you. You aren’t a secret, but you are a private matter. A person that only the pack and the staff know by name. There have been pictures and speculation. They don't hide you but your last name is not public knowledge. You keep your face hidden almost constantly when you know you’re going to be spotted with them.

You are not someone to be jealous of but to be jealous for. You are not someone to be stalked or photographed. What they ordinarily tolerate out of necessity, they never do with you.

But alpha's are not always good at controlling their instincts. There have been incidents, not always because of them or their lack of control either. Jungkook had almost come to blows with an alpha who dared to sniff in your direction just before Jungkook's enlistment, a month or so after Hobi's.

~-~

The flash of the cameras are dizzying. There's a hush that falls over the room as you and Jungkook enter, before the roar redoubles- twice as loud as before.

You're mostly used to it by now, but still some things- like Jungkook close behind you, his big hand on the small of your back make it easier to tolerate. The press of people on either side of you is stifling, press and fans, guards and security. There's only a few moments of claustrophobia from the car to the showcase.

You hold your breath, and Jungkook stays close. It would be easier if your other alphas were here, but you're getting used to having them far away, to having them only on your phone or during evening phone calls. It's been enough months that Hoseok has stopped apologizing for leaving you and Namjoon has started making promises of all the things you'll do once you're home.

But still, sometimes you wake in the nest in the morning, big and empty of bodies, and feel so lonely it aches.

It will be worse when Jungkook goes. You know it will. Which is why you're tagging along today, why you've tagged along to schedules you'd normally avoid.

Sometimes you don't believe what hoseok says, the way that the world talks about omegas, they say you're more delicate, you're more breakable. Most of the time, you don't believe it.

Other times, like this, your anxiety rushes at you, and their touch becomes the only teather you have outside of the fear, the nervousness, the pounding tumble of your heart that ached for confined soft spaces, warmth and enclosed safety. A nest.

But you do away with your instincts today, in favor of staying close. A few more weeks, you only have a few more weeks until Jungkook goes and you don't want to waste a single minute.

One moment you're in front of Jungkook, walking almost instep with him as he leads you through rows and rows of security. You know what you'll look like in magazines later, wide eyes perched over a mask, hat with bunny ears flopping. Swallowed whole by a jacket, small next to your alpha. That there will be articles and breakdowns of your every movement.

Bangtan's omega stuns in louis vuitton, does this belong to the brand ambassador? Could a possible colab be on the way? Our experts weigh in.

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Being an omega can get a little frustrating. You're not the only one scrutinized this way, most omega's that mate with public figures are the topic of the tabloids. You'd flopped against hoseok's chest the first time it happened, "they only saw my forehead! how are they talking about skincare routine when they don't even know?" he'd just pressed his forhead against yours, nuzzling your nose playfully.

"I hate to tell you that you should get used to it but- the press are just kind of like that."

Most of them keep their distance. tipping their head as you pass. it doesn't make you weirded out or nervous, it just is this way. You take off your hat and mask the second you're clear of the doors and fans, about to turn and say something to Jungkook. You don't see the dark figure at the end of the hall leaning forward ever so slightly.

But Jungkook does.

it happens so quick you can't even blink, one moment you're stumbling, turning to say something to him, a security gaurd reaching out to steady you- The next moment you're holding Jungkook back around his waist, blood on his knuckles and a growl on the air.

More than one security guard and staff gets between you and the other alpha. He spits blood on the floor. Some of it hits your legs.

Your ears ring, and you can't hear anything as Jungkook shoves you behind him. Two other security guards have to hold him back. Hands shaking out of their hold.

They'd still been shaking, as he used a wet wipe to clean the blood off of your legs after.

You just don't sniff at an omega without permission, let alone reach to touch them. Let alone an omega with a pack.

"Jeon Jungkook! No! Bad!"

You don't like using their full names, never have, it's always pet names with you. Hoseok can already hear the gentle velvet of your voice crooning softly, "Hobi, are you okay? Do you want to come lay down in my nest for a bit? Can you come here alpha? I want to scent you."

You are the only person for whom his instincts bend. You are the only person he ever willingly takes orders from. The fight worn out of his body at your simplest request.

Hoseok takes Emergency pack alpha leave precious and dwindling by the month, just to handle the situation again. But disciplining his pack takes precedent.

A tidy settlement had kept the situation from leaking to the press, although Hoseok could hardly blame Jungkook for acting aggressively. His head had hung the entire time Hoseok been home. Jungkook doesn't like disappointing the pack alpha. Especially not now, when they don't have days and weeks of proximity and routine to get back on even ground. Not when Hoseok only has 24 hours, and has to leave in the morning.

It only takes one touch for Hoseok to bring him to his knees. A hand on the back of his neck the second they're clear of the outside. The pack house, dusty and mostly empty. Jungkook's mouth has been running wild since Hoseok first walked into the company building. Apologizing to anyone who would listen.

But Hoseok hadn't accepted the apology until they'd been in private.

"Do you know why you're sorry Jungkook?"

You're sat across Hoseok's lap for it, sniffling slightly. Soothed by the rhythmic brush of his hand down his back, your cold nose pressed against his throat. He hadn't even bothered to change out of his uniform before this. Jungkook is on his knees between Hoseok's parted thighs. Inches from you and kept at a distance by sheer obedience. Hoseok admires Jungkook's restraint. Not every alpha could resist nuzzling into an omega's thighs, especially one so close.

Hoseok knows his weaknesses. Jungkook is also a good alpha. Hoseok's most obedient one. But even then he's not even looking at Hobi when as he kneels.

Jungkook looks at you and blinks back tears. Hoseok wants to lick at the alpha's pretty canines, wants to press your faces together and make you kiss. Make it messy just for him. He redoubles his hold on you. holding you tighter. You lap at his scent gland, trying to soothe yourself, nearly suckling at the skin of his throat.

"For offending our omega and...for putting her in danger?" Jungkook's hands slid down Hoseok's calf muscles, but Hoseok just tipped his feet wider. Giving Jungkook more room.

The ball of your foot pressed against Jungkook's shoulder, undeterred, the younger alpha only tries to nose up your leg. Hoseok nudges between his legs with his boot and Jungkook makes a noise- somewhere between a whine and a growl.

"Look at me. not at her." Hoseok keeps him still, and yet- there's only seconds before Jungkook's attention is diverted from the pack alpha's face to yours.

"And how did you do that? How did you put her in danger? Tell alpha."

"For Fighting? For hitting him?"

Hoseok is quick to reassure him with a hand on his chin, rubbing across Jungkook's cheek. "No no no, you did that perfectly. Alpha is so proud of you for defending our omega like that, try again."

"Because" Jungkook is having a hard time stringing his words together with Hoseok's boot pressed to certain places. But that's the point. Hoseok owns all of him like this, the sole of his rubber boot pressed against his knot, gently pressing it snug between Jungkook's body and the unyielding weight of his dominance. The other alpha pants openly. Hoseok can tell that it hurts. Can tell that Jungkook likes it to by the way his mouth opens in a soundless groan.

"Because I did it infront of her?"

"Yes. And why was that bad?"

"Because stress isn't good for omega's? They're too fragile for it." That Jungkook does not say shakily. He, like Hoseok, knows it in his bones that he speaks the truth.

hoseok is perilously weak not to reward him.

"That's right. Good boy. My smart boy. Pull your pants down for alpha and show me your knot." Jungkook pushes into Hoseok's hand like a puppy, letting out a shaky relieved breath at the words. You squirm a little, stilling when you feel Hoseok's hands go firm on your waist. A wordless command to keep still and stay where alpha wants you.

Jungkook rushes to comply, eager to be good. cock popping free, hitting his toned stomach with a light plop. Resting his chin on Hoseok's knee once he's finished.

He waits. You squirm. Looking at him over your shoulder and then at Hoseok. blushing furiously. unnerved by jungkook's complete obedience. Like you're struggling not to give it to.

You rub your nose up and down the column of his throat like you're trying to soothe yourself. "M' not fragile." Hoseok pulls back to peck your nose, humming and willing to play along. His hands on you are gentle, almost too gentle.

"Of course you're not. My sweet little pup. You’re so so brave, you didn’t even cry for that long and alpha is so so proud."

He adjusts his gaze to Jungkook, who has resorted to clinging to Hoseok's legs again for comfort. Pretending he's not rutting his hips in tentative circles and making a mess of Hoseok's pant leg. Eyes teary and worked up. Teeth half bared in aggression like he wants to submit completely but can't quite will himself too. his alpha bubbling up.

"It was just...Scary." You say, quiet and soft. And when you reached down to touch Jungkook's hair, Hoseok lets you.

Jungkook sags into the touch. He chases your scent gland taking deep grateful lungfuls of the scent there. lips parted against your skin. The ache between his thighs forgotten. Teeth almost pressed and bared. But he wouldn't dare nip at you, not when you're sat in Hoseok lap.

This time when apologies dribble from his lips, Hoseok feels like he means it. "I'm sorry- I'm sorry. I won't do that again in front of her- I didn't mean too-"

Hoseok presses his shoe against Jungkook's cock again, This time there's no fabric guarding the harsh dig of the leather and tred from dimpling Jungkook's skin. The alpha yelps. Thighs shaking with the effort it takes him to stay still. Body going rigid.

When Hoseok takes his shoe off, there's a bit of white wet liquid, staining the dark leather. Hoseok's smile is near feral.

"All will be forgiven, Don't you want to show hyung how good you can be? I think you owe our pup a little stress relief Kookie." Hoseok simply shifts you in his lap. Draping one leg over either knee. Fingers dipping between your legs, low. Fingers parting warmth and sweet. Jungkook's blubbering cuts off.

"All you have to do it open your mouth and apologize."

~-~

Jungkook had been sorry, for almost inadvertently pushing your capabilities. The whole world treats omega's like this- like they are inherently fragile.

You are someone that the fans would never shove or push at. It's generally considered a taboo to be rough with omegas at all and more than one idol has had to issue a public apology after tugging their omega's hand a little too roughly at the airport or through crowds of fans.

At least outside of private matters. Behind closed doors, it's more up to what the individual omega wants. At least that's what Hoseok's learning with you.

It's also considered the bare minimum to provide for your omega an extravagant life. That at least- Hoseok does not struggle with. It's easy to spoil you, instinctual almost. To protect and provide and please.

All in all Hoseok is more straightforward that you might expect, he'll give his pack everything so long as they hold nothing back in return.

Being on tour with him means you can try things you wouldn’t ordinarily eat and go places you wouldn’t normally go. To art museums and shopping districts for pretty little diamond studded collars and comfortable designer nesting supplies. Café's for famous desserts shaped like flowers and figs, and even the exclusive omega section at Fao Schwartz.

The packages for that have already been sent back to Seoul where they no doubt fill the entryway of the pack house. Probably carefully unwrapped and organized by yoongi, still in their silk bags on the border of your personal nest at home. A custom-made monstrosity that Hoseok had made for you and Yoongi designed that cost a small fortune.

But Hoseok had no qualms with him spending the pack's money on that. Not even back at the beginning of your courtship and relationship. Nothing but the best for you.

But delicate requests for room service and delivery from a restaurant you’d wanted to try with a promise for more at the next tour stop are now forgotten. Everything is forgotten now that you're sick.

He’s aware he’s been followed, his manager, a bodyguard, a makeup Noona trail behind him as he stalks in the direction of the dressing room. Where his clothes are, where he can get his things and leave. He can feel the rage polishing his canines already.

It makes his grin wider, teeth sharper in the privacy of darkness. Hoseok is snarling at the shadows, the toothy grin crazed as he finally makes it back to the dressing room. Tearing off his jacket popping the buttons and ripping the hem of it in the process.

It can be fixed before the next performance. Hoseok would rip 100 jackets to get home to you even a second quicker.

Unlike usual, no one offers him congratulations and he doesn’t offer any thanks or encouragement. His hands shake as he bends down to undo his shoes, all but yanking them off of him. His necklaces get tangled around his fingers, 7 of them- one for each packmate, and the second he starts to tear at them. Someone reaches for him- to stop him.

Hoseok turns and nearly lunges at Mr. Lee.

Hoseok imagines it perfectly, teeth sinking in, popping through skin and blood. The image is so visceral that Hoseok almost confuses it with reality. The familiar iron tang on the back of his throat what his instincts demand.

He stops himself just narrowly before he can get to his throat. He loses a growl. A sound so bone chilling that no one dare moves a muscle.

Only pure familiarity keeps him from actually biting the other man. the fact that Hoseok's alpha has sort of identified him as someone safe. But the scent of alpha aggression in the air makes everyone, even the lowliest stagehand, pause where they’re gathered. Hoseok bares his teeth and breathes. Struggling to contain himself.

Mr. Lee doesn't flinch, doesn't even raise his eyebrows at Hobi, looking at him with that same impassive expression. Not intimidated in the slightest by Hoseok snapping his teeth.

His hand smooth over the necklaces. He lets go of Hoseok gently.

Honestly, he should be more careful, they were gifts from the pack. The pack like matching their clothes, their shoes, their jewelry, and matching pack items are fairly common, especially in larger packs.

Hoseok in particular likes to have one thing from each of them on his person at most times, especially when he's traveling. Especially since he hasn't given any of them mating bites yet (none of them could stomach the idea of doing it before service). A little memento to keep them close. The biggest necklaces are from Yoongi and Namjoon and the smallest one is from you. Each of them cost no small sum, they're monetarily valuable as well as sentimental to Hoseok.

Hoseok doesn't thank Mr.Lee as he holds his breath, counts to seven, and goes back to taking them off, this time more gently without yanking at the clasps hard enough to bend the metal. even though he's breathing heavy. even though his hands are shaking. Hoseok struggles but there’s already someone behind him undoing the clasps and finally, it feels like he can breathe.

“Sorry. I’m fine I’m fine just-” Hoseok scrubs his hand across his face. Holding the necklaces in one hand. The diamonds sway. long strands handing towards the floor.

“Can I change in the car?” Hoseok is not asking, even if it’s phrased as a question.

With the way Seejin is looking at him, Hoseok knows the answer, and that he doesn’t want to say it. “Fine just- hurry.” Everyone knows why he's on edge, why he’s off.

Everyone here is well acquainted with the pack's omega.

The first few shows you'd ever attended, you'd been quite the distraction. Falling asleep in Namjoon's lap during his makeup. tugging on Jungkook's shirt while he was getting dressed, playfully feeling Jimin's hair while he was warming up and cutting off his notes. Unwilling to let any of them go on stage without being scented. a reminder as you lingered in the wings of the stage, in their peripheral vision that made even Hoseok stumble.

Occasionally you still attend their concerts to remind them of the power you hold, that as much as you give in to their impulses, they're also beholdent to yours. The leash goes both ways.

You're a little bit of a legend among the makeup noonas, managers, and bodygaurds. Because before enlistment and before any of this, before you’d been theirs, you’d been here working alongside them- a member of the support staff.

~-~

Omegas aren’t officially banned from working, not in any legal or governmental capacity.

Every few years some asshole petitions the current government to put some ban on them working and demand they remain registered to one alpha and one alpha only as is natural. But in all reality, the world could not survive without omegas at least taking some modicum of independence for themselves.

A good number of them appreciate their freedom. Just not you.

Hoseok doesn't like to consider the world where there are no working Omega's, a world where they aren't allowed to help. Now that he's seen the military, and seen what it's like when alphas are taken outside of their normal routine and pack structure and put all together. The idea is even more unsettling.

Without omega's, alphas would break out into all-out war.

Hoseok imagines The rage. The quiet of devastation of murder out of necessity. Alphas already have a hard time restraining their instincts even with an omega. Every few weeks there are stories of some alpha going feral on the news. Can you imagine going 8 weeks without being scented? That sounds terrible. I don't think I'd last 4.

Omega’s are too gentle to do most jobs that aren't specifically designed for them. Omegas are sensitive, in need of protection from just about everything. No fear is too small, not fear of thunder or fear of darkness. Anything that can lurk can be killed, and alphas will kill for omegas. It’s a culturally accepted fact.

No alpha can maintain their instincts for long and keep them under control without an omega scenting them docile at least once a week, it's biological, a necessity as much as drinking water or eating. For beta's its slightly less- they get more snapish than feral. they need it maybe once a month.

Hoseok has still seen seokjin's hands shake, has still suffered through more than one sleepless night with jimin. His body and his brain fighting his instinct to stay awake.

There are modern solutions for age old problems of course. Before you the pack subsided the same way the rest of the population did. There are upscale scenting parlors on just about every street corner in the city, private institutions designed with open air booths or similar to cafes that pay out omega's handsomely for a little acess to their wrists or if they're feeling particularly brave- their throats.

Most priced too expensive for the average person to afford, let alone a couple of broke trainees drunk on foolish dreams. There are alternatives for most of the population. Synthetic omega scent (that always smelled too chemical to Hoseok) available for purchase at every convenience store. Fortified drinks with omega pheromones that sort of work that keep you awake when you need to make deadlines. Yoongi used to overindulge in them.

If you're willing to pay extra, you can even buy something that's actually been scented by an omega. They have boutiques for it.

Although very very few packs can have an omega- most idol companies at least employ one designated omega scenter. They’re becoming more and more popular. A perk, similar to a 401k or unlimited PTO. See you don't need to worry about who will scent you next. See, if you're having a bad day or need help pushing through, we have what many don't.

And still- despite their necessity. Not all societies worship omegas. In certain pockets of the world, omegas are thought of as spoiled and lazy. Some are even kept secret to keep their freedoms, their omegan instincts suppressed until later by medications.

Either consensually or non-consensually in your case. You hadn’t known, not until you were well into your teenage years and nearly a legal adult, that you were an omega. Your instincts remained mostly dormant (and what didn't stay dormant you neglected). sometimes you still struggle to understand what your omega wants.

The others just think you're a little more spirited than a regular omega. But Hoseok knows. Hoseok's alpha has always been able to sniff it out.

Hoseok's blood still boils when he thinks about what your parents did to you. They did it in the name of protecting you but still. He'll still rant if given the opportunity (as long as it doesn't set you on edge). Hoseok's ranting is usually met with understanding from the other alphas and chagrined comfort from the betas in his pack.

The alphas understand that the anger never really goes away. But Seokjin and Jimin are different. They get a little spooked when Hoseok shows how truly angry he is.

Jimin usually exits the room when the others decide to indulge hoseok when he wants to hash it out again. He and Taehyung and Yoongi and Namjoon will find themselves in Yoongi's studio with a twelve-pack or they'll hit golf balls off the roof of the company building when the restlessness of unmet anger really tares at them. Hashing it out yet again until the rage has quieted to a dulcet murmur and Hoseok feels like writing songs about it again.

But not now. Hoseok can't calm himself down right now- Not right now when you’re back in the hotel room running a fever. A fucking fever.

You can’t blame Hoseok. He’s protective of you for a reason. It’s not only the omega plague that has him concerned but…your general health.

It's been harder to resist the temptation to worry since after his military service. Without all of them here to temper his anger and calm him down, Hoseok's alpha has been running a little wild. Bubbling up under the surface. Constantly close and whispering in his ear.

You even thing you see it come out on stage sometimes. Sometimes when he commands the crowd or asks them to roar for him it feels almost like he's using alpha voice with them.

You’d noticed the shift in Hoseok the second he’d come back. The second he took off his uniform for the last time after 18 months. His instincts were closer to the surface than ever before. He was so quiet. So silent. None of his usual electric energy, none of his quiet sureness that you were so used to.

Hoseok hates to admit it and hates it when anyone brings it up, but military service had changed him (and not in a good way).

It’s a good thing he has you- if it wasn’t for you- Hoseok doesn’t know if he’d have been able to find his way back to himself.

~-~

Coming home went something like this:

His eyes were wide through the live, open and unsure, a dazed look, almost shell shocked. Trembling with the new weight of old feelings. The position is familiar but the anxiety at his every move being watched- is unmatched. Like Jamais vu. How did being in front of the camera get so scary?

Hoseok used to be so good at this- at being an idol. They used to do this all the time almost without thought before enlistment. Are his movements too jerky? Can the fans tell that he's about to burst into tears? Can they tell? do they notice?

Is Hoseok not good at this anymore?

Leaving his station had felt like walking away from a nightmare only to find himself still asleep, somewhere between a night terror and a sweet dream. Because you were there in the van. You were there. A small body that nearly collided with his with how fast you pushed yourself to grab him the second he'd opened the door, A hand on your back and Hobi's neck, Yoongi close behind.

The cameras had only gotten one picture. Small arms wrapped around his waist and a blurry profile of a face pressed into his stomach.

Now, he listens to the sound of Yoongi prattling to Jin in the kitchen. sitting on the edge of your bed in the packhouse trying to decompress. there's an invitation to shower off the scent of the barracks before dinner that remains unfulfilled. The air smells like garlic and gochujang. the tang of ssamjang too. Smoke and fire. hoseok still hasn't undressed.

But Hoseok just sits on the bed. Hoseok can't move, lead weights attached to his extremities. Frozen there. Listening to the three of you and scenting the air.

the whole house smells like you, Jin, and Yoongi. just the three of you. none of the other alpha's, not Jimin. Hoseok never thought it would smell strange to him. Never thought that it would smell even a little unfamiliar.

Yoongi is all tangerine goodness. Bright and fragrant just on the edge of ripeness. Jin is soft as a peach, sweet and gentle. But You- oh you-

You smell like warm berry jam and nighttime summer air. Something drippy sweet and dark. Like the hint of sunshine and warmth and like syrup moving slow. Those early summer evenings where you can still smell the sun on the air even though it's already set.

Hoseok breathes it in through his teeth, Gritted. On edge. Alpha close under his skin.

Jin's teasing and Yoongi's low murmur fill the air around your bird chirps and squeaks, even when he falls silent. Absorbing it all, adjusting. It's only been a few hours. Only a few. Hoseok should cut himself some slack for not immediately being chipper and lighthearted.

Yoongi sounds relieved and excited even from here. There’s expensive champagne to celebrate (Hoseok hardly tasted his glass when he downed it, trying to calm his nerves) and a home-cooked meal that Hoseok has been looking forward to for months.

He hears the murmurs too, Yoongi breathing heavy, tense. Words he thinks Hoseok can't hear. "He's so skinny hyung, I saw him take off his jacket and I could see every tendon."

"I know, I know, but he's back now, he's safe, that's all we can change now. At least it's over for him."

"But the others."

"Baby I know." A quiet whine, a chirp. "don't you worry your little head about it darling, you just sit there, would you like to try the first piece? it's almost done. You don't need to save it for alpha, he'd want you to have it." It takes everything in Hoseok not to storm into the other room and feed it to you himself.

Hoseok knows what he looks like, knows that he's skinnier than normal, that he looks underfed and somehow more muscular than before. starved for something that isn't food maybe. the military keeps alphas well fed but not satiated. feeds them enough protein and wolfsbane to make them stronger and yet more susceptible.

But in the meantime worry and anxiety have eaten away at him. His cheeks are hollow and his thin birdlike bones look like they've been wrapped with corded muscle. You'd squeezed them appreciatively earlier, the same as you had with Jin. And Yoongi's eye roll had been hassling. But even the other alpha smelled pleased.

"Yah what am I going to do, if they all come back like this it's going to be me and you against the world pup." You'd giggled, and Hobi had delighted you by letting you hang from his arm.

hoseok couldn't explain why when he looks at you he feels like crying. you're wrapped in your most comforting clothing, an old sweatshirt of his that he hasn't worn in two years and has a new hole at the hem like you've worn it every day in his absence. Giggling softly as you try and hang. Yoongi's hand twitches like he's sort of ready to catch you incase you teeter.

"You're so strong now! Bet you're stronger than Jungkookie even! you can lift me all the time not just when you wanna show off!"

"He could always lift you pup," Jin had crooned looking down at you, a head taller, stooping to drop a kiss on your forehead. His knowing smirk light and teasing. "Hobi just feels like lifting you is more for him than for you so he resists, kind of like how I feel about hugging- like this."

Jin has the longest arms but for what he can't reach Yoongi makes up for. The second he reaches around you and Hobi- Yoongi mirrors him. Both of them are in sync and Hoseok mistimed. off beat. Missing a step. Yoongi and Jin squeeze both of them pushing their chests together and trapping both you and Hobi in a Yoonjin sandwich.

Hoseok can feel how gently they do it. going slow so as to not aggravate his instincts. His alpha cocks his head, unused to the careful affection. They keep squeezing until both of you devolve into giggles and until Hoseok is laughing for real. Unbidden, face crumpling towards the end.

The pack house is part of a gated community. Insulated from the public eye by high walls and a guarded gate. It’s a mixture of modern Western architecture on the outside and traditional Korean wood tones and airy skylights on the interior.

Everyone has a bedroom although they more often than not find themselves scattered in pairs or trios. When the pack doesn't have a schedule to attend to the following day and your health allows for it- they pile into your bedroom heaped all over each other. Unworried about sleeping in uncomfortable positions or needing to wake up everyone to pee.

It's adjacent to your nest room and the kitchen on the ground floor- because you were as equally as prone to bumping into things and tripping as Namjoon. The pack couldn’t bear the idea of you having to go up and down the stairs every night.

You could call them overprotective and you would be right. Your comment about Hoseok carrying you wasn't just teasing. You're lucky your alpha's keep you on such a long (and thankfully metaphorical) leash.

Many many omegas find themselves in more controlling situations than you do. Monitored, and kept safe by personal bodyguards or packmates (often times beta's or lower ranking alphas whose sole job in the pack structure is to protect and guard the pack's omega).

The closest thing you have to that is Jungkook and Taehyung. You don't think it's that over the top. In some parts of the world omega's occasionally disappear. Snatched from street corners or stolen from nests in the dead of night. Usually just after the presentation when they haven't found a pack yet to keep them safe.

You're lucky that the pack only sometimes ask to carry you up and down the stairs. You're lucky they don't have the habit of 'omega wearing' as some more traditional all-alpha packs do. No one's kept omega's like that- as little more than pets- in generations. You don't live in a country that requires omegas to wear a collar when they're out in public.

But still, sometimes it's hard not to be protective. You're used to most of it, every time that you so much as pick up a butter knife someone's shushing you and taking it from you. When you bend down to tie your shoes someone is already on their knees before you. Your jacket is always zipped for you, mittens always on, scarf tucked. Whenever you try and put a shirt over your head someone is aiding you. You've lost track of the times that you've heard them say "let alpha do it."

Jimin doesn't even ask, he just glares and puts his hands on his hips if you struggle too much. Surprisingly stern when you feel like you want to squirm or struggle. He's one of the very few packmates whose not uncomfortable landing a swat over your behind or making you write lines.

Jimin is very very particular about the rules. there are others that apply to the rest of them like 'no staying at the studio over night' and 'pt once a week, no butts' and 'no skipping meals for practice' but there are other ones specifically for you that go a little over the top.

Rules like I will tell my packmates when I'm feeling overstimulated and I will not go places in public alone without someone there to protect me. I will not behave in a way that puts my physical wellbeing in danger even inadvertently. If I go into omegaspace I will go and get someone no matter what they're doing because I cannot be left alone unsupervised.

Other things too like- when i feel needy i will not touch myself like a greedy little pup when I have 7 healthy packmates to fuck me. When I want a knot I will not demand it but ask for it nicely and say please and thank you. I will not take out my plug after breeding until Jiminie or Hoseokie or Namjoonie has told me I can. When I want bruises during a spanking or a settling I will clear it with every alpha first starting with Hoseokie and then Yoongi and Namjoon, then Jinnie, and Jungkookie and Taehyungie, only then will Minnie take you over his lap.

And you'll say please and thank you.

You're getting a bit ahead of yourself. Jimin is a very very particular beta. You miss him so much it aches. You miss all of them so much it hurts you, manifests as a physical ache in your temples or under your ribs. A breathless furious need to burrow away where no one could see you. unsafe without your familiar cadre of packmates.

Most of the ways that they take care of you are completely innocent. A tangle in your hair is hardly there before someone asks you to come sit between their thighs, brush in hand. You rarely ever have to sit on your own, a rotating schedule of who gets to have you in their lap during meal times. You haven't picked out your own clothes in years- someone's always there to do it for you.

At least not before enlistment.

After enlistment, you'd learned to do alot for yourself again. With Yoongi home in the evenings, it wasn't quite as lonely as it could have been but still-

It's the little things, that you'd struggled to accept at first that you ended up missing the most. It's insane to you now how you used to live before. That you were used to being independent and uncared for.

Maybe the truth is you don't hate all of it. It was so much nicer than being hissed at and shunned. You don't hate it when you fall asleep in the car or the couch and Namjoon or Hoseok carries you to your bed. You don't hate it when you're in public and someone is always gripping your arm or hold your wrist and guiding over every uneven doorway or step down. holding the back of your head when they guide you to bite. You don't mind the "hold my hand pup" or "Someone's too small for that, let alpha do it."

It's strange sure, but it's a little true. even when you don't want to admit it.

It's strange when Seokjin blows on your spoon of soup before letting you take a bite. When the alphas growl at you if you linger too close to someone who's not them- But it makes you feel comfortable and cared for in a way that you weren't always used to.

Treasured. That's the word for it. You're their treasure. You don't cringe about it when you remember anymore. (The truth is that the pack has made you a bit spoiled now. You don't resist their babying nearly as much as you used too).

It had felt like something of a game at the beginning. You asked for things to see if you could and they fulfilled it, only to shrink before what they actually wanted to give. But eventually you got so used to them handling everything that even when you'd squirmed and struggled and called too much you'd trusted them enough to let them push- and you'd eventually given in.

Maybe you'd be more used to it if you were born an omega (you were born an omega, you try to remind yourself. It just feels like you weren't sometimes).

Now their bedrooms are spaces that you haunt when you miss them. when they're home there are still moments when they each need their own space to either sleep without temptation or decompress after their busy schedules. It serves no one if they always wake each other up by leaving early for filming, or practice, or meetings.

The only bedroom that’s fit with a bed big enough for all of them is your bedroom, more out of necessity than anything else since your bed is the defacto favorite. You’d tried for a normal bed when you’d first moved in but found it quickly overrun and too crowded by packmates. Giving you the largest bedroom was something Hoseok insisted upon.

His own bedroom is now across the courtyard next to Yoongi’s, hardly used. Last time Hoseok checked, Yoongi had taken to storing some of his recording equipment in there, had propped the old bed up against the wall to make room for a pseudo recording studio. Before enlistment Hoseok rarely spent a night away from you, only if you were sick again and if he had an early schedule and didn’t want to wake you- and even then- he'd just rather steal away to someone else's room rather than sleep on his own.

The packhouse is arranged in a big rectangle with an open-air courtyard at the center. The soil there is crammed close with as many plants as Namjoon can stuff there. Tended to by staff twice a week now that the alpha isn’t home regularly to look after his precious camellia and cloud-pruned spruces. The cherry tree sits stubby, blooms just tempting to burst but not here yet. by spring time a small patch of grass will sit studded with clovers and small flowers, a spot for you to lounge in the middle of the day and curl up like a cat in a puddle of sunshine.

Hoseok and Yoongi are on the other side of the courtyard adjacent to the entrance. close to it just incase anyone tried to enter. The rest of the pack is upstairs. In their various bedrooms scattered between the workout room and entertainment center a larger studio space and a tiny art room where taehyung stores his canvases.

Now, Hoseok sits in your empty bedroom. Trying to decompress. Emphasis on trying.

It's hard when every time he shuts his eyes a new memory assaults him. It's hard to stay present. Hoseok knows his breathing is getting more and more ragged the longer he spends alone. It's so quiet here in the pack house. Hoseok's alpha doesn't like it.

Hoseok closes his eyes and a gun goes off. The feeling of a gun in his hand is heavy and impersonal. Hot and sweaty beneath his fingertips.

He opens them and sees your striped red and pink robe hanging by the door, side by side with Taehyung's green and yellow one. Yours warn and his brand new but both of them purchased on the same day. Taehyung just hasn't been here to use it.

He closes them and a sergeant is yelling in his face. Prodding his shoulder with their finger until his body moves. Hoseok can feel the growl in his throat threatening to burst.

Hoseok opens his eyes and notes that you've dropped one of your heated stuffed animals on the ground, that it's rolled half under the bed, he retrieves it and sets it on the bedside table.

Hoseok blinks again and Hoseok must not be composed enough. He must lift his lip because they're yelling at him to drop and give 50. But it's better than being on night watch for a week. Better than sleepless nights spent staring into the darkness and snow, not better than your bed here, plush and soft, smelling like good summer evenings.

Hoseok undresses in the barrack bathroom shoving the second someone comes too close, body-calling threats before he's even turned to see who it is. Hot water is better than the cold that digs into Hoseok's body like it's something with teeth and claws.

On night watch near the northern border. His fear plays tricks on him, you can only look into the darkness for so long before your mind plays tricks on you. You can only hunt monsters and play at being a killer before you start to feel too real.

Hoseok takes a deep breath and counts to seven.

Tonight is supposed to be full of his favorite things. Marinated crispy beef and seafood that smells rich and buttery on the air, music playing low. Things that Hoseok hasn’t been able to indulge in in months.

Like Yoongi’s cooking and your head in his lap after. Winding down and going slow. Easy slowness warming up to it so that Hoseok can start to get used to living again. He'll go back to work tomorrow with Jinnie because he doesn't have time to waste but with this and everything else. He'll adjust.

Hoseok doesn't have to be asleep tonight by the zero hour and doesn't have to be up tomorrow morning for early drills. He can sleep as long as he wants and He's not going to be able to enjoy it at all. Not while he's so keyed up.

He tries and does his best. Breathing in and out to calm his heart rate, decompressing in the half-darkness of the bedroom. It feels a bit too much like a shrine. There in the corner is Taehyung's record player collecting dust, and there on the shelf is Jimin's cologne.

Jimin doesn't always like to hide his scent, lightly floral, something delicate like roses or lychee, fruity and divine for a beta. You like to press your face into his throat hard enough to make Jiminie giggle. Hard enough to tip him over. He's prone to exaggeration. But when it comes to others outside of the pack Jimin prefers to hide his scent with a light layer of cologne, pushing it just a little more subdued, a little more masculine.

Scents are up to everyone's preference, and a fair amount of betas wear scent blockers and Jimin prefers to keep his scent for only the pack to indulge in and enjoy.

Namjoon's bonsai tree sits in the nook by the window, clipping shears and a pair of reinforced gloves (because the pack can't even let you handle scissors without worrying a little). A piece of Jungkook's artwork hangs above the bed. something that was sort of a courting present for you, it's mostly artful splatters but when you look at it in just the right light- it almost looks like a pair of eyes. Pieces are everywhere but no pack.

All of it, all of those months of discipline and control are gone now. Done and over. Everything is in frightening detail. His civilian clothes sit folded, his jacket off in just his undershirt now.

You scented them. Hoseok can smell it even without bringing it to his nose. Everything feels a little too sensory, a little too close. Like Hoseok is too aware of his body and how different his surroundings are. He closes his eyes because he can't bear how strange his life all looks.

Hoseok knew he had to be the first alpha out, he knew that this would be difficult. That it would be hard for the others to adjust and that it would be beneficial for them all if the pack alpha came home and got settled first. Hoseok can't imagine any of his alpha pups feeling this way, can't imagine Taehyung or Namjoon or Jungkook feeling like this. So tremulous, so fragile, and yet so volatile.

There are no barked orders, there is no rigorous schedule here. Just the scrape of a wooden spoon across a pan and the quiet comfort of home (but hoseok still feels homesick). Jin's creaky laugh, and the burst of champagne. The shuffle of slippered feet across the floor too.

You’re talking to them in the kitchen, can hear Yoongi ask if you need help carrying Hoseok's champagne glass to him- a silly thing to say. but instincts are a little silly sometimes. Hoseok swallows back a lump in his throat at it.

It's not like you’re strangers again, he's had nightly phone calls and daily texts and a night or two of leave a month. It’s only been weeks since he last saw you. But keeping it together for a day before he goes back to the day-in-day-out rigor of the military is different than coming home for good.

This means more, this is different. Hoseok isn't going back. He's never going back.

He holds his breath and counts to seven, then 14, then 21, 35, 49, until he's half gasping.

Hoseok feels the need to catalog everything, the curtains pulled against the window. when did you stop sleeping with the sunlight?Your slippers by the door, new. The plates in the kitchen green instead of white. What happened to your old ones? When did you stop wearing bunny slippers and start wearing matching kitty ones with Yoongi? What more has Hoseok missed by not being here?

The scent of omega anxiety is on the air, scared and nervous. You’d been feeling all those things this morning when you’d woken. Hoseok can smell it on the bed. A nightmare? Have you been having nightmares? Is that what it is?

That’s not all Hoseok can smell, the dewy sweet scent of omega slick lingers too. Slightly stale. The spicey tang of another alpha’s arousal also tingles at Hoseok's nose. Yoongi’s and Jin’s if Hoseok breathes deep, tracing the fresh scent of tangerines and peaches, a pure scent that deepens. Soothing, a balm to his nerves and likely yours.

Whatever solution the others found for your anxiety was the intimate sort. Hoseok can tell.

Just like he can tell that someone had stripped the sheets, had taken your clothes- drenched with the scent of omega arousal, out of the basket in the corner and taken it out, probably to keep Hoseok from scenting it, probably to keep Hoseok from being on edge.

but instead of making him comforted, it just makes him feel like a failure.

Failure, failure of a pack alpha. what kind of alpha is he that he can't even handle a hint of a nightmare? He’s angry, and not at you or at Jin or Yoongi, but at the situation. At things he can't change.

Hoseok can't hear your light footsteps. Can hear them get closer and closer and closer until you're a silhouette in the doorway, lingering, unsure. Catching him like this, sat on the edge of the pack bed, legs parted, head in his hands.

Hoseok opens his eyes; a shadow cuts across the light that streams in, and he flinches before he can stop himself.

“Hobi? Are you alright?” You take a step closer to him and he tenses. You notice, stopping in your tracks. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Hobi-" you make to take another step closer and he lets out a sound, neither a hiss nor a whimper, neither a warning growl nor an invitation to come closer. Threat and protector blur.

For a second Hoseok's unsure if it's safe for you to be alone in the room with him.

“Stay back for a second pup, I’m sorry I’m just-” He takes off his beret, running his hands over his spiky hair. You probably thought that Hoseok went to shower minutes ago, not that he'd just be sitting here. “This is a little overwhelming.”

"What is? Us? Should we-" Hoseok nips it before your emotions have the chance to spiral.

“No. Not you- never you. Just-" he exhales shakily, trying to tame his racing heart rate. No matter how many times he tells himself there's no reason to be so on edge, Hoseok just can't will himself to relax.

"Is it being home? Being out?” Being free. It goes unspoken but Hoseok hears it and feels it regardless. He never imagined freedom to feel so stifling. To feel so unsure about his next move that he can't even make himself get up off this bed without worrying that he's going to lose control.

“No, it’s my instincts. I feel…” he trails off, resting a hand over his heart and hissing through it. You take a step back; his closed eyes shoot open and he lets out a growl. A real one. You freeze.

The tension is so thick in the air Hoseok could cut it with a dull knife. Do not let the omega escape, sweet omega, pretty omega, omega under your thumb. Protect devour provide devour, please.  His instincts are practically howling out in his ear. Loud, drowning out your words, the concern.

There is a furrow between your eyebrows, Hoseok wants to smooth it out and then bite your cheeks, round and flushed. Why are you blushing?

It takes him a second to answer. He registers you've asked him another question but he can't even hear it over the roar of his heartbeat.

“Sorry. Feel like I’m going crazy.”

“Oh you- oh Hobi. You’re alright. It’s over. We’re gonna be okay.” He hums skeptically when you say it. Blinking rapidly. He hopes its so dark you don't see the glassiness to his eyes. He doesn't respond right away. Can't.

It’s a reminder he’ll need again. He's going to need to hear you say it about a dozen times over the next week. You'll repeat it to him whenever his instincts get like this; whenever they go a little feral. A little haywire. He's not sure if he wants to burst into tears or stalk across the room and pin you to the wall.

It takes a second for Hoseok to work up the courage to be honest. A few seconds where you wait, swaying slightly in the doorway. You're wearing a matching pj set, the top has little iridescent buttons that catch the light like the eyes of a sea creature. The object of his every frustration and all his desires. The confession lurches from his chest, feels like a knife, and feels near violent. 

“I’m worried I don’t know how to be gentle with you anymore. They made me so- I’m worried I’ve forgotten. I don’t- I can’t-”

“What do you want to do right now? Tell me what you need.” your tone leaves no room for his anxiety and Hoseok realizes that his breathing has gone jagged. Hoseok is barely contained, teeth bared, alpha going wild at your scent. This time when you step closer, his alpha lets out a growl purr. A pleased sound, a soothing one. Tempting you closer. His legs are splayed, and a few more steps and you'd be standing in between them.

Hoseok’s hands are fisted in the sheets. He doesn't know if he can hold himself back. “Pup- I don’t, I can’t- i'm going to attack you-”

“Alpha.” Your voice cuts through the bullshit. You step closer and this time he doesn’t flinch away. You set your hand on his knee. Gentle. Barely touching. “What do you need alpha? What are your instincts telling you to do right now?”

He surges forward, stopping himself at the last moment. Your back against the door, swathed in shadow, a column of light flat across his face. Nose to nose with you. He grips your cheeks instead of your throat. You don't flinch and you don't sigh. Your reaction is immediate. Pushing into his touch. Hoseok's whole body is trembling with the effort it takes to stay gentle.

Hoseok hisses through his teeth. “My instincts are telling me you don’t smell like me anymore. That I need to bend you over this bed and make you mine from the inside out. Then take you out there and do the same to Yoongi and Jin until everyone's mine again. I want to devour you until there's no question who you belong to- until the whole world knows you're mine.”

He breaks off with a contemplative hum, and you realize how much his muscles are trembling, the dark tilt of his eyes as he stares at you, the dilation to his pupils. It’s faint, but it’s there. The physical strength it takes to hold himself back- you can't imagine.

he rests his forehead against yours. and his hand tightens to a fist on the wall. He lets your face go to skim his hand down your throat, feeling your pulse. Beating out a 120 tempo against his fingers. Then to your waist. Only a fool would mistake his touch for anything but claiming.

If you ran, Hoseok would catch you. You kind of want to do that, to run and have him hunt you down. You wouldn’t get far probably not even to the doorway. You imagine him taking you right there right where Yoongi and Jin could see.

They'd probably just tease you both and keep cooking.

Hoseok's hands smooth up and down your sides, from your spine to your ass. You let him touch. You're his in every way that matters anyway. You don't react or at least you try not too. You jump a little, when he squeezes, hissing appreciatively. His fingers continue to touch, to devour, slipping lower, palming, between your legs from behind.

He brushes something sensitive and you jerk. He growls. "Stay still omega."

"Trying alpha it's just-"

He undoes the buttons one by one on your top, hands surprisingly steady until it falls away from your shoulders. Hoseok nuzzles. Dark hair tucked beneath your chin as he mouths at your scent gland, hot breath dusting your skin. You're not worried or shy, Hoseok has seen all of you. You stay still until you feel the press of his teeth, jerking.

He squeezes your hip, reassuring you. The tension dissipates just a little.

"I’m so tired,” he laughs, and it sounds sad even to your own ears. He pulls back away from your skin, lips glossy and he rubs his hands over his face and then his hair. Your body burns when his hands leave your skin. It looks like it takes him real effort.

He leaves you there, standing half undressed by the doorway, shucking off his own shirt as he goes, setting it on the bed. Back to you.

There are bruises on his spine, up and down his back from a heavy pack or the strap of a gun you're not sure. You stumble forward, still half winded to touche them. Hoseok's body stills when he feels you come close.

You trace over them softly. Hoseok's breathing is so measured you know each breath must take herculean effort.

There have been so many weeks of teasing that have led up to this. Picture after picture, you pouting asking for your favorite alpha home. Pictures that Hoseok dared only open in the privacy of the bathroom that left little to the imagination. A shot of Yoongi's head between your thighs, a shot of you nesting in next to nothing. Virtual bait and blood in the water to Hoseok's hungry alpha more than willing to take a bite. All to give him something else to think about during that home stretch.

You wrap your arms around him and press your bare front to his warm back.

“I'm so tired that I don’t think I can be gentle, and I want to be gentle with you. I can’t not be gentle with you. I don't think I could do it without loosing control.” His fingers are mostly gentle as they pinch your cheeks, making your lips pout out. It's a little goofy.

Your eyes already look shiny, and he almost jerks when he registers the scent of slick on the air.

“Then don’t be gentle.”

“Pup.” There's a warning in his voice and he looks visible startled when he turns around. He pulls back until you let go of him, turn around. but you're not dissuaded easily, arms loose until he grabs your wrists. no matter how hard you pull you can't get them out of his grasp. but that's sort of the point.

You let Hoseok hold you, let him keep you still, a teasing smile on the edge of your lips. He huffs after a second, palms sliding up to your elbows. "You're gonna make me get more grey hairs."

"but you love me anyway?"

Hoseok nods. "but i love you anyway."

“if you can't be- then don't. Don’t be gentle, I don't care.” You’d tilted your head to the side. “Please alpha.”

Hoseok is a weak weak man. Hoseok cannot hold himself back from you. Not today. Hoseok proceeds to do exactly that, hunting and running and all. you smile and bolt, and hoseok bends to his instincts just this once.

You don't make it farther than the doorway.

Sprawled and giggling. Somewhere along the next few minutes, the sound of Seokjin and Yoongi cooking quiets, they listen but they don't interrupt. You try to push, try to fight but it's futile. it's all a game. Giggling all the while and it's like candy and conquest.

Hoseok's mouth runs wild like this- instinctual and driven.

"Is it too big for you little pup? Poor little omega stuck on a big knot, making you feel all full. Don't worry, alpha will fuck you until you're used to it again, until you feel empty without it. Keeping me warm and snug, is it too much? Don't cry, alpha will make it better. Alpha will keep you safe."

By the end of it. You'd been dazed and boneless, little more than a puddle of whimpers and whines. He had carried you tender and knotted to him in the direction of his pack. Instincts driving him to show (Hoseok is little better than a pup bringing his packmates a stick. See? See how good I bred omega, see how good I knotted her. She smells good and I made her this way for you. If he had a tail it would be wagging behind him.)

Dinner and celebration traded for a different sort of meal. Hoseok sits with you in his lap at the kitchen island. Yoongi dries his hands slowly from the sink and curses low when Hoseok holds you under your thighs, back to his chest. Spreading you for him.

"Fuck- I forgot how it looks like when you knot her it's so-"

It will take a good hour for Hoseok's knot to go down. Until then, the pack will play with you as they see fit, completely at their mercy, just the way that Hoseok likes you.

You always get a little bit more suggestible when you're knotted. Hoseok likes to think that you don't let them do everything they want to you when you are knotted but…you sort of do. While you're more than comfortable telling them off and showing off any wandering hands normally (and there are alot of wandering hands) you're almost docile when you're knotted to Hoseok.

Being knotted to the pack alpha is a bit of an invitation. Hoseok has watched the others jerk off over your chest like this, has watched them go between your legs and lap and suck to their heart's content, seen them kiss and suck until your eyes have rolled back. He doesn't mind. It doesn't make his instincts feel threatened. It feels good.

But only if Hoseok lets them. Maybe that's why you let them do it because in these moments, your bodies are locked together- you belong solely to Hoseok.

Hoseok's nose traces over your spine, over the nape of your neck. His alpha likes it very very much. The other alpha's like it too.

Now Yoongi eyes the spot where you stretch around him, the place you go pink and dewy, licking his lip and adjusting himself in his pants. Hoseok knows there's not a thing in the world he wouldn't give up for this.

Hoseok reaches between your legs. You whine when you feel him touch you, eyes fluttering against his throat, but Hoseok tips his fingers into your dewy folds, parts your lips and shows them. "opened right up, cute little cunt. Your whole body is lax, head full of mango colored cotton. the haze of pleasure just a little too much, a little too much to sort out your desire to please from everything else.

distantly you can hear yoongi's deep chuckle. "Your knot is the same size as mine. It looks like this when you do it too."

Yoongi's dark eyes are unreadable. The room smells like smoke, the burners are turned off, but no one is plating any food. Hoseok didn't even bother to undress just pulled down his pants enough to get his knot free. But you're nude clutched against his chest. Clothes torn up in the other room. Bite marks up and down your body.

Jin coos and looks you over. Hoseok feels…satisfied when the beta purrs in approval. The sight of it going straight to his head judging from the way his peach scent ripens on the air.

"It's different, it's different when it's yours."

You jerk once Jin comes close, his long fingers skimming places Hoseok can't see, buried against the back of your neck, mouthing at your nape hungry still. "Sensitive" you shutter but your pleas remain mostly ignored. a whine escapes your pressed lips and a furious blush lights down your midline. Jin keeps touching you. Hoseok wraps his arms around your middle to stop your squirming. Keeping you still so that the beta can do what he wants with you.

"Alpha bit me there too." You mumble against Hobi's throat, shifting restlessly from whatever Jin is doing. Shifting more. "Jinnie- I'm sensitive,"

You nearly flinch, but Jin's thumb presses. "Oh here? Right here?" Hoseok's teeth dip into the nape of your neck and you go boneless. Hobi laps at the pink skin when he pulls back. you pant openly, incapable of letting out more than whines.

"Let Jinnie see what alpha did to you pup." Jin drops to his knees to look closer and hobi holds you wider.

When he looks up, he makes eye contact with Hobi before you. His smile goes a little teasing.

"This little spot right? It's a very cute little spot, I understand why Hobi bit it."

Hoseok's nose traces your ear. "Don't act like it didn't make you cum." you sniffle but nod. Hoseok's knot throbs at your simple obedience. the way that you agree. It makes Hoseok want to bite you more if it's even possible. He laps at your throat some more to ignore the temptation.

"Oh? Alpha was mean? Let Jinnie kiss it better."

~-~

You end up ordering takeout. Yoongi burnt the meat too bad to be edible.

Later there is this; you cuddled up on his chest, nearly nude, wearing someone's boxers as shorts as you often do post-breeding. You claim it helps you feel closer to your alphas and although stealing clothes is pretty typical of an omega. Jin still teases, "you're not even wearing ours; those are Jungkook's."

Yoongi had stood up, pawing for his phone. "I'm gonna send him a picture- he's gonna love-" Yoongi's fingers pause on your hem. a shocked laugh bursting from his throat. "Hobi you literally left teeth marks on her ass."

Hobi's arms go firmer around you and he's about to apologize when you beat him to the punch. "I like it. If anyone gets angry tell them not to because I liked it. Makes me feel-" You shimmy and hiss at the ache in your body. "Makes me feel like I'm yours again."

There is a lump in Hoseok's throat, and his instincts go just a little more quiet. He's so fixated on that that he hardly hears your next reply, the teasing tone of your voice.

"And besides Jungkook's boxers are so much softer than yours."

"Yah-"

"You little brat." You shake against Hoseok's chest with the force of his laughter. And jump when yoongi reaches out to pinch the bruises. yoongi hadn't cum more than once earlier, and hoseok knows that although the other alpha is the least deprived out of all of them- he's still needy, still a little wound up by seeing it earlier.

They make eye contact over your head and Hoseok feels a little satisfied when yoongi looks away first.

"Fine, be like that, I'm gonna wash all my sweatshirts then and you won't have any left for your nest."

Your expression had gone suddenly panicked, "but- but-"

Now your bellies are full from takeout because Yoongi had actually ruined dinner- granted he had good reason to be distracted. Hoseok feels properly worn down, properly settled, there's still a tiny bit of anxiety in him, and his alpha still looms awfully close. But he knows that won't really go away for a good long while. Not until the whole pack is back here and safe. The doors locked and the windows shuttered.

Yoongi gets up when you ask for water, and Jin gets up when you realize you've neglected to put on your eye cream. Both strange things. In any other world Namjoon and Jimin would have done both of those things for you.

He might just confine them all to your bedroom for their first week back. His alpha likes the idea of that. You purr softly against his chest, and Hoseok holds around you with that same gentleness that he'd been craving earlier, finally capable of it with you smelling like him and the others too. They had only done the bare minimum of cleaning themselves up with lazy swipes of a damp cloth.

With three packmates wrapped around you, Hoseok under you, cheek resting over his heartbeat to listen, Yoongi against your back, and Seokjin at your front Hoseok finally feels like it's enough. You're safe like this. Nothing could ever hurt you.

Not even himself.

A concerning number of bruises trace up your thighs that Hoseok will apologize and worry over tomorrow. Even though you've told him you don't mind them- that you even like them. Everything can wait until tomorrow, healing included. Hoseok finally gets the courage to ask.

"When I came into this room, it set me off. I can tell you were anxious this morning when you woke up. What was it? Was it me?" He has to crane his neck to catch your expression and how your face goes from stricken to polished in a second.

"It was nothing, we handled it." Seokjin tries to smooth over it. But Hoseok’s warning growl cuts him off.

You trace mindless patterns over his heart, and your purr peters off. "I had this weird dream; it was a nightmare and just weird." You pause, looking up at him. Your expression is so calm that Hoseok doesn't believe it for a second. "In the dream you hated me, or at least really didn't like me." Hoseok's hold on you goes just a little tighter like his alpha is offended by the very idea of it. "There was glass everywhere and Tae was wearing pink."

Yoongi speaks, and Hoseok knows he's taking it seriously just trying to make you feel better by being a little silly."That's not that weird, Tae wears pink all the time."

"Only when he steals Jin's clothes."

"Did you know he got ketchup on the last one? I swear these kids-"

You peak up at Hobi tentatively. And he can tell that you're still a little upset by the dream. "Don't worry- I think by the end of the dream we loved each other and anyways-" You kiss his jaw, pecking at it and a lazy growl builds in his chest, spent cock twitching below you. His appetite is insatiable even after three rounds. Once on the floor, and again on the kitchen table. And again here.

"It didn't make any sense; Yoongi was a beta in it and Jinnie was an omega like me." you trace circles over his heart. "It was a bit ridiculous."

Jin ducks low pressing a kiss to your forehead, “yeah, as much as I love you being an omega I don’t know how you handle all of us pawing at you like this. I’d get like so overstimulated. And you’ve told me how sleepy you get.”

“Yeah, it is a little annoying, needing more sleep than you guys do to like. Function.”

"And like I could ever be anything but an alpha." Yoongi looks a little fragile, a little threatened by the dream. Hoseok wonders what else was in it if the other alpha is so on edge. Because there must have been more. “I can’t imagine not having instincts at all.” Jin pinches him and Yoongi jumps.

You don't have to look to know Jin's rolling his eyes. “Yeah like not growling and not nosing after anything that smells even a little bit sweet is such a curse.”

“You didn’t seem to mind it when I was nosing at you yester-“ Yoongi is interrupted by a pillow to the face, feathers fluttering down as you giggle against Hobi's chest.

Hoseok ignores the bickering, still watching you. "What was I in your dream? Was I an alpha?"

"Yes, but you weren't mine." You scoot closer to him, wiggling like just the weight of your body isn't enough to get close enough. Hoseok has a feeling that in a few minutes, you're going to start tugging at the hem of his boxers and ask to cock warm him to sleep. Some nights your omega just doesn't like any distance between you and your pack alpha and now that you have him back you don't want to let him go even a little bit. You could use a plug- but your omega wouldn't like it now that you have the real thing.

(omega plugs are fairly standard, alot of packs make omega's wear them to sleep or when they go out. A physical reminder to the omega soft minded and a way to ensure they're docile. There are even fancy ones that log body temperature, dampness and location. Sending notifications to the alpha's phone and information like rem sleep and lengh of orgasam. The pack has never needed one of those with you.)

Now though hoseok wishes he had some sort of insight into what you're thinking as you rest your cheek on his chest and look up at him. frowning and thinking hard. hoseok's thumb rubs over the nobs of your spine, up and down.

“You kind of hated me and you were so sad. I couldn’t do anything about it. That's what made me anxious- the idea of you being sad and not being able to fix it.”

You turn to nuzzle into his shoulder. The movement is so routine, so normal it almost looks like breathing. Hoseok's heart hurts from it. Your scent smells a little disconcerted, a little worried. Like just the memory of the dream is enough to set you on edge. “Like I said it was a nightmare."

Hoseok just holds you tighter, dragging his cheek along the top of your head. His scenting is a little overkill given the circumstances. any alpha in a 3 mile radius would be able to tell it's him that's claimed you.

"Yeah," he says, voice rough and quiet. "Sounds like a nightmare to me too."

~-~ Stay tuned for the next part ~-~

Notes:

sometimes i feel like i frame certain scenes like i'm not like- writing a story so much as vissually looking at a tv and describing what i'm seeing. this is one of those fics that very much felt like that.

i feel like this story is more of a true story vs a plot. i've made no secret of the fact that what i really like about fanfiction is making a world that you can sink your teeth into- and i feel like this one- this universe with pack alpha hoseok is like- ugh so drippy. like i truly hope you leave reading it and feel frustrated that you're not there- even though not all of the things described in it are good. for that reason i think there's less plot in this. like i just want it to be something that envelops you- not necessarily something that progresses although there definitely is plot to it.

i toyed alot with the idea of having there be shifting wolves in the one. i put that little tidbit in with taehyung just incase i fell like touching on it here. but honestly i may not have enough time.

i think one of the scent fortified drinks that yoongi drank too much of in their trainee days was probably "omegabull" or "omegaster" idk i didn't put it in because it felt too goofy. my favorite redbull is cranberry flavor :) maybe i'd smell like cranberries if i was an omega?

okay so- the pack's scents in this- i know it's not mentioned all that much in the first chapter- but!!! their scents for hoseok and the m/c are what their scents would have been had they not been abused in bily- this universe is sort of a foil of the other one. but yeah- hoseok would have smelled like mangos :( i know not everyone will read bily who reads this so! i tried to make the allusions to it less on the nose than in the first draft.

tbh that little bit with the plates being new, this is a. a bily refrence because remember how yoongi breaks them when she leaves? yeah this version of yoongi also broke dishes when the pack left. BUT ALSO- i do think i wanna touch a bit more on yoongi and her's time alone togeather. i like the idea that in every universe, they have their moment where it's just the two of them.

the scene at the end is just hoseok: ready to pounce on the m/c scared of himself and the idea that he could hurt her meanwhile the m/c: thats hot.

the moment where he says "the object of his frustration and all his desires' is a nod to bridgerton because i was re-watching it and loving it.

if we're being honest i think that beta's might be intersex in this universe, do i really really wanna write jimin and her rubbing their pussies together? yeahhhhhhhh, am i actually gonna write it??? probably not.

[smokingsoothesthesoul]

# DREW STARKEY — LIVE TALK SHOW

ִֶཐི༏ཋྀ ────୨ৎ──── drew’s first time on a talk show, which just so happens to be jimmy fallon’s and he’s known for scheming. he surprises drew starkey with his celebrity crush. which just so happens to be you.

ִֶཐི༏ཋྀ — pairing: actress!reader x drew starkey !

author’s note: please show some love, also this is my first time posting on here, and i don't know how good my one-shots are. enjoy!

word count : 1.8k

you were known for being one of the most famous actresses sought after. they’d been right for it, your acting was phenomenal. as much fame as you had, you never really let it get to your head, knowing where you had come from was the most important thing to you. 

not only that but you were also known for the activist and humanitarian organizations you’d created or supported alongside other celebrities, like angelina jolie, phoebe tonkin, daniel craig, etc.

so when daniel craig’s managers reached out to you it wasn’t a big surprise, apparently they had been reached out to by a talk show if they could invite you along as well. knowing daniel was more than glad to pass the invitation along, you accepted. 

you wondered why they’d want you there seeing as queer had just premiered, and that had nothing to do with you

—

drew had been nervous, he’d be on a talk show, but nonetheless he was a wreck. it took him forever to decide what he’d be wearing, ultimately deciding on a charcoal grey, and white tux with a black tie. he hoped his outfit would be fine for the show.

as he waited backstage for his introduction he paced around nervous, spinning his gold ring on his finger, an anxious tic he had. 

before he knew it, he heard jimmy fallon, “ladies and gentleman, let’s welcome the man everyone's been talking about, he’s rising to fame, the one and only drew starkey!” he announced as drew walked out and shook hands with the bodyguard on his way to the main set. 

hearing the loud cheers and roars of everyone was amazing and he couldn't help but be shook to his core, never in a hundred years would he have expected this. 

he waved to everyone as he made his way over to jimmy and shook his hand, before he proceeded to sit down in one of the couches.

“so drew we’re glad you accepted our invitation, isn’t that right?” jimmy asked the audience, before they all roared in agreement.

“i’m honored, thank you for inviting me.” drew replied confidently, knowing he was nervous inside.

“so we know you’ve been chasing gold for about four years, and now you’re in a queer relationship with daniel craig, james bond, which has premiered if i’m correct?” jimmy asked, knowing the answer but trying to build up the conversation.

“yes, out in theatres about a week ago.” drew replied. 

“how did that transition work, you know, from filming a show where you don’t really have a romantic relationship until recently to a full blown queer relationship?” jimmy asked curiously.

“honestly, a bit overwhelming and a lot of anxiety from my part. not more so because of the transition but just because i knew i had to ace this role. getting the opportunity to work alongside daniel craig and for luca guadagnino was truly the opportunity of a lifetime. whatever time it was, i knew i had to give it my all. sometimes i doubted my performance but daniel helped me and gave me advice whenever i needed it,” drew replied, while he felt himself relaxing a bit as he got comfortable enough to share personal details.

“there was even a time where,” drew began before lightly biting his lip amused at the story daniel shared with him, before continuing, “daniel told me of an experience he had with another co-star. basically when you first film scenes and most of all when they’re scenes like we were filming, the first day on set really is just practice. not reading lines, but actually practicing how certain scenes will go. in our case mature scenes were what we focused on at the beginning seeing as we’d be testing out our chemistry.”

“anywho the point is that once we were literally in the middle of a bed scene, nothing too explicit, and daniel chuckled when i fucked up a line because instead of saying ‘we can’t be doing this’ i said ‘we shan’t be doing this.’ he literally rolled out of bed and said he had to take a breather, i was confused, i mean we fuck up lines sometimes but never enough to call break,” drew explained.

“yeah normally that doesn’t happen, i would’ve been nervous,” jimmy commented.

drew laughed and nodded his head, before continuing, “i was dying of anxiety in the inside, i was like did i fuck up this badly. and i guess daniel could see it written on my face, which is when he walked over and explained how in his last role the same thing had happened with his co-star. and i couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief and literally said, ‘thank fuck’ to which he laughed at as he walked away to get a water.”

jimmy let out a chuckle at the ending of his story, and said, “oh my god i would’ve died of laughter too.” 

drew nodded as he swiped his backhand on his nose, a reflex of his, before replying “yeah i definitely would’ve too but honestly i was too nervous at the time, now i think back on it and laugh about it.”

“actually there was something i was looking forward to, with you here, let’s show this clip,” jimmy said motioning towards the tv for the audience.

before they knew it, drew was being interviewed by a reporter who asked who his celebrity crush was, ‘y/n y/ln’ he answered without falter.

as the video ended drew couldn’t help but let out a chuckle and turned to jimmy while he began, “is that still true?” 

drew knew the answer to that, and nodded, “yeah it is,” he replied confidently.

“we have a surprise for you if you look at the monitor,” jimmy said before motioning towards the tv.

if the world could swallow drew up whole, he’d let it. at that moment. because then and there on the tv, where times he’d stated his celebrity crush was y/n to interviewers and it was playing in chronological order.

as the video ended jimmy looked at him and playfully asked, “anything to comment?” 

drew couldn’t help but cover his mouth with one hand before sliding it down to reply, “genuinely that’d be mine if i could somehow reach her.”

“well who knows maybe one day you will,” jimmy commented supportively.

“unless i get the courage to actually dm her, it’ll be a pending matter,” drew replied.

“why the need for a dm? i’m right here,” you said after making your way quietly behind him signaling the audience to not spoil it.

at that moment, drew froze up, and instantly rose up from his seat but slowly turned around, not knowing if it was real.

as he slowly turned, you waved at him and slightly giggled at his nervous reaction. you waited for him to say something before you said anything else.

as you stood there waiting, drew finally caught a grip and let his charm play out even if he was a train wreck inside. 

“i’m drew starkey,” he introduced, stammering quite a bit. 

“i know,” you replied smiling.

hearing that drew’s brows rose in confusion, he didn’t expect that. he was a nobody and you were everything.

“i was invited to your premiere but i ended up in the er or else i would’ve been there, apologies,” you said, genuinely honest.

drew was lost for words, yet jimmy asked him, “drew you still there or are you too starstruck?” 

“mhm,” drew nodded, not necessarily indicating which one but they could all guess.

he couldn’t get over the fact you’d just apologized for not attending his premiere, gosh he was literally about to faint before he talked to himself in his head ‘get your shit together before you scare her’ which he proceeded to do, and extended his hand for her to shake.

“none of that, my mama taught me better than that” you replied before walking closer to him and pulling him into a hug.

drew couldn’t believe this was happening but reacted fast enough to not make it seem awkward for the audience, at least that's what he hoped and reciprocated the hug. wrapping his hands around your body.

as they pulled apart, you walked up to jimmy and shook his hand seeing as there was a literal desk between you both and greeted him. 

“jimmy it’s been a while,” you commented.

“glad to have you back on here,” jimmy replied genuinely.

“now that we’re dealing with a starstruck man, we actually have a few live questions, if you don’t mind answering them?” jimmy asked.

“of course, ask away,” she replied amused, wanting to know what was being asked.

jimmy read from his phone, “how does it feel to be drew starkey’s celebrity crush?”

“well honestly, and i quote, from the man himself, ‘i’m honored,’” you replied knowing drew was known for his replies of being honored.

next to you drew couldn’t help but smile amused knowing he said that quite a lot, he hadn’t been lying he really was honored. but to hear that you were honored he thought of you a certain way, well that was the most fucking honored he’d be in his life. before, now, or after.

“what do you think of drew starkey and his roles?” jimmy asked, reading off the second question being asked by the audience.

“well honestly, i’m definitely an outer banks fan. i’m glad he’s finally getting the recognition he deserved, i’ve been there since season one, people now are barely catching on,” you started.

as you replied, drew couldn’t help but feel touched at what you were saying. he really had just risen to fame this past year, with the new season of outer banks even though he’d been there since day one of the show.

“i’ll admit this new season and the past one that came out, i couldn’t help but feel a tad bit jealous that our local psycho was tied up and locked in with someone,” you admitted lightly, chuckling amused.

“for me this is a situation where i love the actor but hate the character unfortunately, because rafe deserved better, in this season four that came out. sofia betrayed him and genuinely frustrated me,” you explained.

drew couldn’t help but feel touched at how you were talking about his character, because it was something he’d poured his heart into. 

“one last question for both of you before we go,” jimmy asked before a drum roll sound came on to build anticipation.

“have we created a successful cupid match?” jimmy asked, to which the audience cheered, curious as well.

at that moment both drew and you gazed into each other's eyes, “only time will tell,” you answered truthfully, ‘but maybe we’ll get there’ you tried to communicate that through your gaze with drew. 

the cameras cut and now there was a rising to fame actor, holding out his hand for a famous actress to take. 

and that she did.

[bbgsaja]

⳽ωɩtᥴᖾ ᥙρ (ᙖᥲᑲყ ᔑᥲʝᥲ x ᖴ!ᕼᥙᥒtᥱɾ!ᖇᥱᥲᑯᥱɾ) ρt ꧶

summary - the Idol Awards show is here, and it's finally time to seal away Kwan and lock Gwi-Ma and his demons up in their realm. it won't be easy, but none of you are alone warnings - none

a/n - part 10 will be the last part, though depending on how that goes i might just write an epilogue as well 🫶 part one • part two • part three • part four • part five • part six • part seven • part eight • part nine • part ten

"What is this?"

As Mira held up your hand, displaying the ring adorning it, Baby opened his mouth to answer. But Romance cut him off with a very dramatic gasp.

"Baby made the commitment! He's finally growing up!"

"Shut up," Baby growled.

You laughed as they teased him, like four annoying older brothers. When they'd first arrived, they hadn't been so close but thanks to you and the girls, they were now practically family. Just like how you considered Mira, Rumi and Zoey your sisters.

"Okay, what's the deal?" Mira asked, "It's just a ring, right?"

Romance was practically giddy, "No. When a demon gifts their partner, girlfriend, soulmate - you pick - something, it's usually imbued with a part of them. An everlasting commitment."

You looked at the ring, then at Baby, "What?"

"You gave me my soul back," he stepped closer, taking your hands in his. "So part of it is yours. My future."

Your face burned at his words, something stronger than butterflies blooming in your stomach. Your heartbeat sped up, and as you stared at the teal-haired rapper you forgot how to move, how to speak, how to think.

"I-you-" You couldn't even form a coherent sentence.

"So...are they married, then?" Zoey asked, a little confused by what Romance meant when he said 'everlasting commitment'.

"'Marriage' is a human concept," Jinu shook his head. "This is far deeper, more meaningful, and stronger than a legal binding. Baby bound his soul to hers."

You stared at Baby, drinking in every word, "Me?"

"It's always been you," he answered, bringing your hand to his lips so he could kiss the soul-infused ring.

Then Bobby rushed in to call you guys to get ready. Your head was spinning as you followed the others, staring at the back of your boyfriend's head. Struggling to comprehend such a meaningful gesture.

Everything you'd learned about demons had been wrong.

Or maybe hunters just hadn't learned enough.

As you approached the stage, you couldn't hear the fans screaming and singing like they usually do. Your stomach dropped, realising exactly why that was the case.

"We have to get up there, now!"

Ignoring the stage crew, you rushed to the platform that was supposed to take you girls up to the stage. The boys vanished in puffs of purple smoke, no doubt reappearing on stage to initiate your shared performance.

When the platform finally rose and brought you and the rest of Huntrix up, chills ran down your spine at how eerily silent the stadium was. Except for Kwan's voice, and now Jinu's, both progressively getting louder as they tried to sing over one another.

Rumi's part shifted the balance, her words and her voice joining Jinu's in drowning out Kwan. In the audience, you noticed one, two, three souls reigniting.

You, Mira and Zoey started dancing around him, trying not to make your movements too obvious. You had memorised the shape of the pentagram, and it was now burned into your mind so you could move fluidly and gracefully.

That was until Kwan's hand closed around your wrist and, without disrupting either performance, swung you into his own twisted dance.

You glared up at him as you sung louder, only to realise that glaring wouldn't help. So you softened your expression, pictured Baby in front of you, and continued singing and dancing the way Huntrix do - in a manner that inspired and uplifted the audience.

Mira, Zoey and Rumi continued dancing in the pentagram shape, trying to conceal their growing concern. Around you, the fans were waking up from their dazes and starting to cheer, getting louder.

A low growl rumbled through Kwan's chest, his grip on your waist tightening. Claws dug into your skin and you winced, blood seeping into the black fabric of your skirt. Invisible to everyone else, but not untraceable to your demon boyfriend, who struggled not to growl when he smelled your blood.

Kwan's claws dug deeper, drawing more blood, trying to slow your movements and incapacitate you.

And then you were gracefully pulled away from the ancient demon, swung right into a familiar chest. You breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn't Baby, but Romance was much better than Kwan. He looked down at you in concern, but you smiled weakly, reassuring him you could manage.

That is, until you stumbled.

Once more, your body was succumbing to lethargy, your legs wobbling. Only years of practice as an idol kept you upright, but Romance knew what you needed.

Baby was waiting, a fluid twirl in his direction landing you in his arms. He hissed when his fingers made contact with your blood. But instantly, you were energised. Or, as energised as you could be with ten claw puncture points in your waist.

Rumi, Mira and Zoey were almost finished with the pentagram, but they needed you to complete it.

However, before you could even attempt to move that way, Jinu joined them and filled in for you. For a moment, you were afraid that might not work, but his connection with Rumi saved the performance.

The fans started cheering louder, singing along.

Their heartbeats one, channeling power to you and the others.

"Wait!" Kwan yelled, visibly panicked now, "Don't you want to know why I did what I did to that village?"

"Not really, no," you snarled, slamming your foot down on the ground in time with eight others.

That lit up the floor in the shape of a pentagram, golden light searing Kwan's skin. He shrieked in pain, but that was drowned out by Huntrix's voices and his disappearance hidden by the Saja Boys moving hypnotically in front of him, captivating the fans.

The performance became seamless after that.

Each person moving in almost-perfect sync with the others, voices in perfect harmony. The fans grew louder, louder than anything you'd heard so far, and as you looked across the stadium you saw thousands of souls alight with the sound of your music.

You sung louder, more passionately, though your movements were a bit slower because of your wounds. There was no time to take care of them, you had to finish this and you had to finish it now.

"NO!"

A roar shook the earth as you watched the glowing Honmoon lines start to shimmer a golden colour. Your eyes lit up, and you looked at the other girls in excitement.

But your energy was starting to wane, and your legs were starting to wobble. You had lost blood, and it was making you woozy.

You grew worried that you might just make the performance fall short with your slower steps and weakened voice, but then the ring on your finger grew warm and suddenly your body was revitalised, though only temporarily.

You locked eyes with Baby across the stage as the song came to an end, his hand making that half-heart against his face. The fans screamed so loud you swore the entire stadium shook, gold spreading throughout the Honmoon. Sealing the demons and Gwi-Ma away for good.

Through blurry vision you saw your friends rushing towards you as you keeled over.

And then passed out.

You woke up in your own bed, eyes blinking away your weariness. Your body felt like it had been beaten with a meat tenderiser, your muscles aching with even the slightest movement.

"Where do you think you're going?" A sleepy voice mumbled from beside you.

You turned and saw Baby lying there with one eye open, on you.

"I didn't move?"

"You were gonna."

"I'm fine-"

Both his eyes snapped open, all sleep leaving him, "No. You don't get to say that." You started to say something, but he stopped you, "He hurt you, (Name). He hurt you. With the same claws that I..." He stopped himself, but you knew what he was thinking.

You immediately wrapped your arms around his neck, "You're not like him. You'd never hurt me."

"You were bleeding in my hands."

Baby was shaken. The usually calm, languid boy was trembling, holding you to his chest like he wanted to merge your bodies. His grip on you tightened like he didn't want to ever let go.

"I'm here, Baby," you murmured, kissing the top of his head. "I'm safe. And I trust you." You didn't flinch as his claws came out, digging into your hoodie as if he wanted to get a firmer hold on you. "These?" You lifted one of his clawed hands to your face, "Would never hurt me." To make your point, you pressed that hand against your cheek. Leaned into his touch, claws and all.

His breath caught.

"When the ring was warm on my finger...was that you?" You asked quietly, tenderly.

"Yeah," he switched your positions, wrapping his arms around you this time. Nuzzling his face against the warm skin of your neck. "You needed me, so I borrowed you some of my strength."

"Is that how it works?" Your jaw dropped slightly.

"Mhm."

And then you heard it: a low rumble, not a growl, but a...

"You purr?!"

tag list - @tenaciouskittenpuff @tiger-lilee-5 @seavnz @haru-reto @redkitsu03 @pearthesimp @arieslucy @matsugumisou @lonelyminh @justanindiangirl12 @anonymousewrites @nyanyanihao @snowy-violet @yumi-does-stuff @iluvshifting

[beloveds-embrace]

Hi! This is just a weird scatterbrained thing I thought of when reading a fanfic earlier but what if the 141 are mafia bosses or something like that and readee is a singer at a local nightclub who’s seen as “an angel in hell” because she is a very kind and gentle person? Bonus points if the 141 are thought of as demons or something

I love this omg, i hope this is good enough!

The air in the club was thick; cigarette smoke curling into the dim, golden glow of the chandeliers, mingling with the scent of expensive liquor and leather. Conversations were hushed, spoken in low tones that carried the weight of power and danger. Every soul in the room was either a player in the game or a pawn waiting to be sacrificed.

And then, there was you.

When you stepped onto the stage, the entire club seemed to pause, as if the world itself held its breath. Dressed in satin and sequins, you were a vision of something untouchable, something lovely and pure. The first note of your song sent a shiver through the crowd, your voice a haunting melody that wrapped around every patron like silk, drawing them in, commanding their attention without force- only with the beauty of your voice.

The regulars called you an angel in hell. A voice too soft, too kind for a place like this.

And yet, you stayed; you had to.

The debt loomed over your head like a guillotine, one you hadn’t even accrued yourself but had been forced to shoulder. At least the club paid well- well enough that, one day, you might finally be free. Until then, you sang for sinners, devils draped in tailored suits and bloodstained rings, and your wings stayed clipped.

And of all those devils, none were more infamous than the four men sitting in the private booth overlooking the stage.

They weren’t just criminals; they were legends. Demons in human skin, just as you were an angel in hl. The kind of men who could decide a person’s fate with a flick of their wrist, who could burn entire empires to the ground if it suited them.

You felt their eyes on you. They always watched.

They weren’t the only ones. Every night, men in the club tried to claim your attention, but none dared approach when they were in attendance. Because despite the way they ruled with violence, despite the fear they instilled- when it came to you, they were different.

Possessive.

Protective.

No one dared touch what they had silently claimed, even if you didn’t know that; didn’t know how many men had been warned- some with words, others with something more final.

Didn’t know that the reason your walk home had always been quiet and safe was because there was always a shadow watching, ensuring no one followed.

Didn’t know that the few men who had been foolish enough to try and corner you had disappeared, bodies dumped where no one would ever find them.

Didn’t know that in the private booth, as they watched you perform, they spoke of you as something already theirs.

“She’s got no business being here,” Gaz muttered, watching as you moved off stage, offering smiles and quiet words to the club staff. “Too soft for this life.”

“Too good.” Soap agreed, knocking back his drink- even if it did nothing to soothe how parched for you he felt.

“She’s got a debt,” Price said, rolling his cigar between his fingers. It was simply a reminder, as they all already knew your reasons for being here- and staying here. They’d simply ensured no one would bother you while you attempted to get your life back together. “That’s why she’s still here.”

Ghost’s voice was a low rasp when he spoke, eyes narrowed on where he could see you finally disappear from view, going backstage. “Debt or not, she’s not going anywhere near the wrong people.”

“She doesn’t even realize…”

“No,” John nodded his head. “And she won’t.”

Their eyes followed as you disappeared behind the velvet curtain, completely unaware of the devils who had already laid claim to their angel- to you. Tonight, you had sang for them once more, and was thus their angel, and their songbird.

[satorus-princess]

body to body to body

synopsis: your childhood best friends, satoru and suguru, are also kpop idols known worldwide. they might put on a show and tease their fans on stage, but little does the world know that you're their favourite toy to play with after concerts.

cw (minors please dni): sub!reader, switch!satoru, dom!suguru, no established relationships, threesome, fingering, finger sucking, double penetration (no anal), dacryphilia, spitting, slight dumbification, some gay shit, so much filth, the first time i never edited LOL (also pics don't belong to me; found on pinterest)

word count: 3.7k

a/n: this has been plaguing my mind for over a week. also go check out @/d3cay1ngst4tic's (sfw) kpop idol!satoru series 🔫

fem!reader x gojo satoru x geto suguru, canon-divergent, nsfw

silk marrying velvet. the moon glimmering on a serene lake.

that's how fans describe their voices. it might sound dramatically elaborate but once one hears their voices, they quickly adopt the same opinion.

it wasn't only their voices that enamoured people, similar to the way sirens lured in oblivious men, but the way they held themselves and performed.

it wasn't only a performance, but a show.

the scandalous touches, almost kisses, lingering eye contact where sapphire meets amethyst.

satoru would hook his finger into suguru's belt loop to tug him closer; suguru would cup satoru's nape and lean in close enough that their breaths mingle; both of them smirking as they lock eyes, heavy-lidded as they sing into their mics.

and you, their best friend (well, their childhood friend that they occasionally fuck), were able to experience it backstage. that was one of the many bonuses of being their friend.

as the cheering and squeals die down, the two make an appearance backstage once they were finished with their concert. satoru's silver locks are dampened with sweat, his sheer shirt matching with the way it looks like the moon after twilight. a contrast to suguru's buttoned shirt made of silk which looks like twilight itself, open halfway.

“almost made me jealous watching you two out there,” you joke with a small laugh, watching them gulp down water, their adam's apples working tantalisingly.

satoru throws his head back with amusement, a resonant chuckle tumbling from his mouth while suguru simply passes you a smirk. his fingers that were previously cupping satoru's neck on stage, now running through his midnight tresses.

“why would you be jealous when you know you're the one we have after concerts?” he slinkers closer to you, that same ring-adorned hand now resting on your hip.

against your back, you feel the heat emanating off of satoru, who towers over you, cupping your chin to tilt your head back to face him.

“have we been neglecting our sweet girl?” his thumb traces your jaw, and he sees the way your pupils dilate and lips part in anticipation.

strong arms wrap around your waist completely, drawing you closer against suguru's exposed chest and satoru follows, chest brushing against your back. his hand skates down your body to your thigh, brushing the hem of your skirt before he sneaks it under.

you hear his breath hitch, his fingers twitching.

“oh? what's this?” he smirks, pleased. “no panties and already wet.”

“poor thing,” suguru croons with faux sympathy, leaning in close enough that his hot breath caresses your lips. “needed us so desperately, you didn't even bother to wear any panties?”

you nod quietly, already feeling dizzy from the close proximity and their hands claiming your body. two pairs of eyes watching you, four hands touching you. and you're thankful for suguru's arms around your waist holding you up when satoru's fingers elegantly dance through your folds.

every single thought flees from your mind the second suguru's lips sway with yours almost violently and satoru's fingers tease your weeping entrance, pushing past that first tight ring of resistance.

“fuck, she's soaked for us, suguru,” the man behind you groans, driving his long fingers in and out of you, curling them justttt right it has your legs buckling.

the one in front of you breaks the kiss, a string of shared saliva connecting your lips to his. “mm, let me taste how sweet she is.”

your stomach jumps with excitement in response to his words, expecting him to drop to his knees and stuff his pretty face in between your thighs.

instead, he grabs satoru's wrist and eases his hand out of you, leaving you to whimper at the loss of the electrifying sensation. however, an involuntary gasp escapes you as if you've been punched in the gut when suguru sucks in the other man's fingers.

his eyes flutter shut, humming blissfully around them as his tongue rolls around the digits, devouring every drop of your saccharine sap that stains them.

you feel something throb against your ass, knowing satoru's becoming more and more turned on by the action. he suddenly rips his fingers from suguru's mouth before gripping his dark shirt to crash his lips against the dark-haired idol's lips, sharing your juices between them.

satoru's fingers wrinkle suguru's shirt with the way he grips the fabric and he moans loudly when suguru sucks on his tongue, right above your head. the raven nips on the other's bottom lip before moulding their lips together once more. it's all tongue and teeth, moans and groans. and you're caught in the middle of it.

they don't even pull away for air, breathing heavily through their noses. suguru slides his tongue against satoru's, satoru sucks on suguru's lip, drool escapes from the corner of satoru's mouth, suguru's ball piercing grazes the underside of satoru's tongue.

it's only when you whine to get their attention that they pull away, panting, lips swollen and slick with spit, eyes drowning in lust.

“i thought you were supposed to give me attention,” you huff.

“mhm, we're sorry, pretty girl. we'll make it up to you.” your violet-eyed friend captures your chin between his fingers, running his thumb over your bottom lip. he shoots a glance to satoru. “give her your fingers again. get her ready to take both of us.”

“... both?” you breathe, surprised.

“you can handle it, can't you? you're our big girl,” suguru smiles, almost sickeningly sweet.

“it's not like you haven't done it before. let us take care of you.”

satoru kisses the shell of your ear, fingers trailing up the inner side of your thigh back to your pussy that only became more drenched after watching them practically suck each other's faces off. he plunges two fingers back inside, scissoring them to stretch you out and swivelling to find that spot that drives you insane.

just as you moan out a “s-satoru,” suguru dips his head to meet your lips, eagerly swallowing your sweet noises. the most melodic sound that they think puts their own voices on stage to shame.

you can taste the subtle remnants of your arousal on his lips. he rolls his tongue piercing along the seal of your mouth and you're immediately compliant - parting your lips to let him tangle his tongue with yours.

it's messy, desperate, but suguru takes charge, savouring it and taking his time, forcing you to slow down. a deep hum vibrates against your mouth and it elicits a moan of your own.

“fucking hell, you keep getting wetter by the second,” satoru rasps in your ear, tugging gently at the lobe before he trails kisses down your jaw, to your neck.

he pushes your shirt off your shoulder, lips running to caress the exposed skin the first chance they get. his other hand continues to loosen you up, sneaking a third finger and you choke out a gasp against suguru's mouth.

“hah f-fuck... too much,” you mewl, thighs clenching around his hand as if stopping him but the way your walls suck him in tell him otherwise.

he chuckles against your shoulder. “baby, this is nothing and you know it. ease up,” he commands softly, patting your thigh.

with his hand smoothing the plush of your thigh, it only takes a couple of seconds before you're parting your legs again. his thumb finds your swollen clit, neglected and throbbing for attention. he graces it with gentle circles while simultaneously working his fingers in and out, in and out, in and out, almost hypnotically.

your slick trickles down his palm, leaking around his fingers and almost creating a puddle on his hand. he replaces his thumb with the heel of his palm, grinding it against your sensitive bundle of nerves.

you accidentally bite down harshly on suguru's lower lip and a quiet hiss escapes him. “so sensitive today,” he mocks. “careful, our fans wouldn't like seeing us with scars.”

he presses one more kiss to your lips before retreating slightly, slinted eyes lazily travelling over your features contorted in pleasure. the way your eyes screw shut, your lips tremble with each moan and whine, your cheeks flushed a darker shade.

and he observes the way whatever sounds or words you were gonna utter get lodged in your throat the second his fingers join satoru's, replacing the latter's palm on your clit with his middle and ring fingers instead.

“s-sugu...” you gasp, legs threatening to give out and he tightens his arm around you. “s-so--... hnngh.”

“‘so what’, hm? use your words, pretty girl.”

“hey, my fingers are inside you. what about my name?” satoru complains with a pout that you can discern in his tone. this only causes the man opposite him to roll his eyes.

“clearly, i'm the one making her feel good.”

“b-both of you shut up, just make me cum,” you moan out, trying to sound stern but the ecstasy takes over.

“oh, would you look at that. our sweet girl does know how to use her words,” satoru teases, but he provides you with what you need nevertheless.

his lithe fingers swirl your insides, an obnoxious squelch filling the space and a smug smirk curls his lips upwards. without your intention, your hips move on their own, practically humping their hands. your essence pours into their hands, sticky and soaked.

that tight little coil in your lower abdomen comes closer to snapping, your head throwing back to lean against satoru's shoulder as your back arches, legs quivering. suguru takes the opportunity to suck on the flesh of your neck so beautifully exposed to him.

“you're close, aren't you? i can feel your pussy squeezing me so damn tight,” satoru murmurs. his fingers continue thrusting, grazing and nudging your sweet spots so perfectly that another melody of schlop, schlop, schlop blesses their ears.

a whine is the only thing you manage to respond with, your hands flying mindlessly to find something to ground yourself with. they both find suguru's hair, tangling in his locks and yanking hard enough to make him grunt. and make him twitch in his slacks.

“‘m cumming, ‘m cumming! ah...! s-s-- o-ohhhh...!”

your inner muscles suffocate satoru's fingers like a vice, drenching him completely in your sweet, sweet juices. his fingers slow while suguru's rubs gentle circles on your clit, dragging out your orgasm as you twitch turbulently in between them.

thankfully, you have them to hold you up; otherwise, you would have been a puddle on the floor.

“such a good girl for us,” suguru purrs, lips brushing against your heated cheek.

they give you a few moments to recover from your intense orgasm; satoru slowly slipping his fingers out and suguru moves his own fingers away.

instead, they both work to undo their belts, freeing their hardened lengths that strains against the fabric; it's a miracle they didn't rip a hole in their slacks. neither of them bother to take them off completely, tugging their slacks and boxers down just enough to get what they need.

“spit,” suguru instructs satoru, holding out his own hand in front of him.

it's no less than a moment before the snowy-haired man spits into the palm of the former, who wraps his hand around his cock, coating it with a slick combination of satoru's saliva and his own precum.

purple irises look up to meet cerulean swirled with pure lust. he smirks, dropping his hand from his cock that now stands proudly.

“let's swap places. i wanna see her pretty face this time,” satoru says to the other, who complies without a word. now that he's standing in front of you, a mischevious smile spreads on his pink lips. “hey there, gorgeous. i missed this view.”

he cradles your cheek in his hand, leaning down to kiss you. it's slow, almost gentle, patiently waiting for your haze of pleasure to evaporate.

“you ready for us?” suguru asks quietly, his hand resting on the side of your neck as he looms over you from behind. when you pull away from the kiss to nod, he smiles. “good. we'll go slow for you.”

suguru's on the thicker side, though that's not to say satoru isn't well-endowed either.

satoru hooks his arm under your leg to lift it up before suguru gradually eases into you from behind, inch by inch, giving shallow thrusts as he nudges deeper with each thrust. his ringed hand grips your hip, the other still holding your neck gently. while satoru busies himself with pushing your top above your tits.

he moans softly once he gropes both of them in his hands, kneading as if he can't get enough. his thumb grazes over your hardened nipples, eyes flitting to your face when he hears you whine.

“ngh... ‘s so good...” you hiccup, reaching out to clutch at satoru's sheer top.

“mhmm, i know. just a little more, beautiful,” suguru hums in your ear, voice strained with carnal pleasure as your walls massage his dick. he takes a deep breath, restraining himself before he slowly sheathes himself inside you. “shit, so fucking perfect. still so tight.”

a syrupy moan is forced from your lips, eyes rolled back as his tip nudges the deepest spot inside you. “missed you. it's so... hah... deep. feel so full.”

“yeah? think you can take satoru, too?” he purrs. his voice is so smooth in your ear, soothing and comforting. when he speaks like that, you believe you could do anything for them.

“uh-huh, want both,” you babble, dazed eyes looking up at satoru.

“oh, fuck. don't look at me like that.”

“‘toruuuu... please, need you so bad,” you whine, voice dripping with need. with the grasp you have on his shirt, you pull him closer.

he holds back the moan bubbling in his chest at the sound of your begging and the way you call his name. it's so enticing, alluring, he could never deny you of anything.

and so, with his heavy cock in hand, he guides it to your filled hole, pussy lips bulging around suguru already. his tongue wets his bottom lip at the sight before he prods at your entrance.

his pace is painfully slow, stretching you to your limits once his tip shimmies through. a strangled cry spews from your lips, your entire body buckles forward, falling into his chest and he loops his arm around you to support you.

satoru stills his hips, letting you adjust before he pushes in any further. his own eyes roll back at the feeling of your walls moulding to both of their cocks, soaking them as they weep with dewy arousal.

you grit your teeth and tears prick your eyes, the stretch burning, stinging, you feel impossibly full as if they'll tear you apart. “c-can't take it! nngh... too much!”

“shh, you can take it, pretty girl. i know you can. you're always so good for us,” suguru whispers. with practised movements, his middle finger circles your clit once more. slow and gentle, enough to help your pelvic muscles relax, but not too much to overwhelm you.

you shake your head in refusal, a tear rolling down your cheek. “can't...”

“deep breaths, baby. you'll feel so good soon, i promise.” his voice is calming, like a lullaby, an attempt to relax your body. your breathing is shaky, shallow, unsteady. “hey, look at me... breathe with me, okay?”

you eventually unlid your teary eyes, tilting your head back to meet his reassuring gaze. he moves to caress your cheek with his thumb, brushing your tears away, and helping you steady your breathing and relax.

“thereeee we go. that's it. doing so good for us,” he praises, peppering kisses all over your face.

finally, finally, satoru is able to wrangle his dick further inside, gliding against suguru's dick and he moans wantonly, sounding absolutely ruined. even more so than you.

“oh my god... why do you have to be so fucking big?” he laughs breathlessly, his fingers shaking slightly as he brushes his hair back from his forehead. “she's so fucking tight, it's d-driving me crazy.”

suguru can feel the way satoru throbs inside you and against his own dick, swallowing thickly as he retains the last ounce of his composure.

“you okay for us to start moving?” he asks softly, waiting for your approval.

“mmm,” you hum, dazed and dizzy.

“i need words, pretty girl.”

“... y-yes.”

as soon as they get your confirmation, they find a steady rhythm. suguru thrusts in, satoru pulls out. suguru withdraws, satoru pushes in.

the maddeningly intoxicating sensation of their dicks grinding against each other as they fuck you, mixed with the way your treacly walls swallows them, has suguru tossing his head back with a husky groan and satoru muffling his own sounds by sucking on your nipples.

“this is fucking insane,” suguru chuckles, delirious, voice laced with desire. the most wrecked either of you have ever heard him.

“hah o-ohhhh fuck... ‘m not gonna last long at all, shit,” satoru whimpers, lips glossy with his own spit from practically drooling on your tits, squishing them in his hands as he suckles.

“i know. i can feel you fucking twitching like crazy.”

“heh, well, i think we've already fucked our princess dumb,” he giggles, pulling back to stare at your expression, completely gone.

it's as if your eyes are permanently stuck staring into the void of the back of your skull, jaw fallen open as silent moans attempt to voice themselves, and limbs completely limp against them. it's their strength holding you up between them.

“look at her. such a pretty girl. probably can't even hear us right now.”

they continue the same rhythm, the back and forth, the synchronised movement that's required to manoeuvre a kayak. but their pace picks up slightly, as much as your impossibly plugged cunt allows them.

suguru flexes his hips behind you, reaching spots no one else ever could, a breathy grunt tumbling from his lips when you clench around them. satoru ruts into you, dick curving into that spot that makes you see stars, makes your pussy a waterfall of the sweetest honey. he's whimpering at the feeling alongside suguru's cock glissading against his own.

“i fuckin’ hate ngh how turned on i am because of your dick against mine,” satoru mutters, biting on his lip hard enough to draw blood.

“liar. you love it-- oh, god. stop fucking throbbing.”

satoru manages to smirk through his moan, cheeky and prideful. “looks like you enjoy it, too, suguru,” he taunts, saying his name in a sing-song tone.

violet hues narrow before he reaches around to fondle satoru's balls, to shut him up. the latter lets out a shuddery groan, almost whiney, his hips bucking into you.

“s-stop playing dirty... o-ooh, wait. shit, shit, shit, i'mgonnacum,” he rambles, hips stuttering as he ruts and ruts, indulging in such hedonistic pleasure.

his uninhibited moan echoes throughout the space, mingling with suguru's own grunts as satoru paints your walls white, staining the other's cock in the process. his thrusts continue to falter, slowing to a halt and his grip on your boobs is bruising, enough to elicit a whimper from you. he feels your pussy milk him for all he's worth.

“‘t-toru...”

he immediately perks up at the sound of your voice, head lifting up from where he buried his face into your tits, eyes snapping open to gaze at you. “hey... hey, baby,” he smiles, dopey and slightly lazy as the after effects of his orgasm linger. he doesn't immediately pull out.

“nngh... gonna cum,” you mewl, crumbling between them. your fingers quiver as they still clutch his shirt, holding on for leverage as suguru pounds into you relentlessly from behind, reminding you of his presence.

“i've got you, pretty girl,” his voice strums in your ear as his fingers dance along your skin to encase your jaw, tipping your head back to meet your clouded gaze. “you did so good for us.”

both of them feel you clench in response to the praise, two groans blessing your ears. there's a symphony of your moans, their groans and the sinful squelching only getting louder due to satoru's release leaking out and frothing at his base.

each gyration of suguru's slutty hips is accompanied by a wet squelch, and a resonant plap! of skin slapping against skin. he drives into you with a force that has your back arching almost into a semicircle, and your entire body writhing in between them.

“let go for me,” he whispers in your ear, a soft order that you easily and swiftly comply with.

sobs wrack your body as you almost double over, trying to fold into yourself, the pleasure becoming torturously overwhelming as you gasp as if drowning. they hear the gush of syrupy liquid spurting from you, dripping down your thighs and puddling beneath you.

your release triggers suguru's, unable to contain himself with the way you constrict around him, walls begging for him to fill you up and that he does. he continues to thrust into you, riding out your orgasms together, biting your nape as he muffles his moan, which sounds similar to a whine, into your skin. but you're too fucked out to notice and tease him about it.

the room is quiet, safe for the panting and their fond words checking to make sure you're okay. satoru pulls out first, suguru following, both of them moving slowly knowing how sensitive you are right now. a filthy schlop sounds as their combined cum pours out of you, mixing with the mess you already made.

satoru laughs, light and breathy, as he runs his hand through his sweat-dampened hair. “that was... something.”

“yeah, something that had you whining like you were the one getting fucked,” suguru snorts, rolling his eyes. his hands subconsciously smooth over your skin, massaging it to ease any aches.

“hey, don't think i didn't hear that whine,” satoru retorts.

“i don't know what you're talking about.”

“probably because you were too out of it, whining like a bitch in--”

suguru's fingers suddenly vine around satoru's throat loosely. “shut up. don't utter another word,” he murmurs, brushing a teasing kiss against satoru's lips.

the latter swallows, his dick twitching back to life. “yes, sir.”