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sundrop-writes · 5 months ago

Text

Trouble Is...

Thomas (The Maze Runner) x Fem!Reader

All that I know is I just can’t say ‘no’ to you,

Funny how things never change.

All that I wanted was just to get over you.

Trouble is - I can’t find a way.

You’re part of me.

Trouble Is - you’re part of me.

Summary:

Now out of The Maze, everyone is enjoying their newfound sense of safety. Everyone except for Thomas.

He can’t enjoy the soft beds or the clean clothes or the food, because he’s too worried about you. You’re quarantined off somewhere else (presumably with other girls), and he hasn't seen you in days.

When he finally sees you, he’s too thankful to question why the two of you are put in a room alone together. Too thankful to question the mysterious smoke that’s pumped into the room. Too thankful to question why the door is locked.

Thomas (TMR) x Fem!Reader. Friends to Lovers. Smut/PWP. Sex Pollen. Set during The Scorch Trials.

Word Count: 7,900

The Maze Runner Masterlist | AO3 Link

Full list of warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: general warning that any and all TMR fics I write will be based on the movies and not the books, so any lore inaccuracies can be blamed on that; also this is a YA series, but DoB was in his 20s when he played Thomas, so for our purpose, these characters are aged up to at least 19 or 20; often sex pollen comes with a dubcon warning, but I’m not sure that applies here - these characters have a great deal of pre-existing affection for each other (I might even go so far as to say that they are in love), and they would have intensely enthusiastic consent, even without chemical enhancement; the reader does have some mental hesitation when she feels the pollen taking effect, but it’s not because she doesn’t want to have sex with Thomas, it’s because of PTSD from WCKD and feeling suspicious towards them (and when Thomas assures her that he will ‘take care of her’, she enthusiastically consents to having sex); warnings for unethical science because our characters do not know that they are part of a science experiment and have not consented to have these chemicals used on them (but that is just the canon of WCKD); the reader character has a vagina and uses she/her pronouns; this fic DOES USE Y/N; this fic uses the beautiful age old trope that the reader character was the only girl in The Maze; mentions of the mental and emotional effects of isolation - the reader has been isolated from everyone else since leaving The Maze and Thomas is the first of her friends that she sees in days; this is mostly just smut with very little plot; because of the canon, both characters have had their memories erased and theoretically might be virgins or might not be virgins (yes, in the book, they were put into the Maze as ‘children’, but as I said, for my purposes, everyone is aged up) - so I am not explicitly stating if this is their first sexual experience or not, but this is their first sexual experience as a couple/first sexual experience with each other; as mentioned before, the main point of this is sex pollen - in the form of a mysterious sci-fi chemical compound that is injected into a locked room by WCKD as a part of a random experiment; scent kink - Thomas loves the way Reader smells (and has since long before being dosed with sex pollen); orgasm from clit stimulation through clothing; oral sex - reader receiving; hair pulling - Thomas receiving; unprotected penis in vagina sex; there is NO breeding kink here (the characters aren’t motivated or turned on by the idea of having a baby); there is creampie kink - Thomas does not pull out, and the characters are turned on by the idea of him cumming inside of her; Thomas is very possessive in this fic (but it’s almost unconscious, as a need to keep the reader safe, not in a jealous or romantic way); cockwarming - they fall sleeping while Thomas’s cock is still inside of the reader; the ending is slightly bittersweet (it’s implied that the reader is kidnapped/hurt by WCKD, but not explicitly stated). I believe that’s all for this short fic.

A/N: I am genuinely surprised that it took me this long to write and post a sex pollen fic, because it's absolutely one of my favourite tropes ever to read. WCKD is such a perfect backdrop for a sex pollen fic - shady unethical company that does weird science experiments - it's just too fitting. I have a few more sex pollen fics in my drafts that are yet to be finished, but I can definitely see myself writing a lot more of this trope because it was so much damn fun lmao. I will squeeze it into any fic universe that I possibly can. I love tropes that make things hornier than they should be - sex pollen, fuck or die, hate sex. All of it. Anyway - I hope you enjoy the fic, especially those of you who have been waiting for this fic in particular!!

...

Thomas was going insane.

At least - that’s what it felt like. Sure, escaping The Maze had been a victory. Being rescued by the military and being taken to a (supposedly) safe place was, for all intents and purposes - a victory.

But there was one detail that Thomas was hung up on that nobody else seemed to care about. While everybody else seemed content to go about their ‘new’ everyday lives - sleeping in the dorms, eating in the cafeteria, going through the barrage of medical tests without question - you were missing. And apparently, Thomas was the only one who seemed to care.

Perhaps that was an exaggeration, seeing as the other boys from the Glade had known you longer, and they were likely worried about you silently because you were a dear friend to them. But it certainly felt like Thomas was the only one who was anxiously awaiting your return.

When Thomas had come out of the Box, terrified, clueless, panicked - you had been the first person to be truly kind to him, rather than laughing at his blundering confusion. Every single time there had been an argument, you had stepped between him and Gally, making yourself known as a calm, motherly force that the other boys listened to - more out of habit than fear.

You were a kind leader in the Glade that everyone respected, because you had earned their respect. Not because you bullied them into following you or even because you wielded some kind of natural seniority over them like Alby had. You were kind and sweet, and all the boys responded to that.

Thomas had been surprised to learn that you had been one of the first people ever to come out of the Box. The second ever, according to Alby. You had such a strong, long-standing friendship with Alby, such a close bond with him. When Thomas saw the tears that streaked your face when you thought that Minho and Alby weren’t going to make it back before the doors closed was likely the number one thing that motivated Thomas to go dashing inside. He had wanted to rescue your closest friend for you. Some signal, some blaring siren inside him that screamed that he would do anything for you, that he needed to protect you.

It was the same thing that caused him to hold you tight when you saw Alby slowly dying from the poison of the Griever’s sting, letting you cry on his shoulder. The same thing that drove him back into The Maze, looking for a way out. A deep longing to escape, to find a better home for you.

And now, he was going more insane with each passing minute that you weren’t in front of his eyes. He was being driven out of his mind with each moment that your hand wasn’t grasped tightly within his own. Each moment that he couldn’t see you, feel you, hear your voice and know for certain that you were okay - it was slowly driving him mad.

When the group had first arrived at this facility, this supposedly safe place - you had been ushered away from the rest of the group, viciously torn out of Thomas’s arms. His grasp on your hand the whole time had been bordering on melting his flesh into your own, and he was surprised when you had been the one to relax your hand out of that grip and give him that same soothing voice you did when he got into fights with Gally - telling him that it would be okay, that you would ‘catch up with them’ later.

Thomas had wanted to kick and scream - he had wanted to yell, complain, protest about you being separated from everyone. He wanted to put up a fight about you being separated from him. But Minho clamped a hand on his shoulder and advised him to ‘shut the hell up’, clearly not wanting to upset the fragile peace they had established. Not wanting to disrupt the safety they had so freshly claimed.

So Thomas kept his mouth shut - for now. It was for the greater good of the group. Everyone was bathed, clothed, fed, sleeping in warm beds. But he couldn’t help but to feel strange that he was the only one worried about you when they hadn’t seen you in days now.

Minho simply assumed that girls weren’t allowed to co-mingle with guys in this new facility - and maybe he was right about that. But something about the whole thing just felt off to Thomas. It kept him on edge and kept him from sleeping more than an hour or so most nights while the other boys slumbered peacefully around him.

On this particular day, Thomas was in the middle of picking at his meal, scoping out the area, theorizing if he could sneak past the guards somehow. If he could get past them, he could venture down any number of the hallways that they hadn’t been to before in order to look for you. He had all this romping through his mind at a break-rate pace when someone came up behind him - tapping on his shoulder and breaking him from these thoughts in a way that utterly startled him.

Thomas whipped his head around to find one of those anonymous masked soldiers standing behind him.

“Thomas?”

He nodded in response.

“Come with me.”

Thomas wanted to question it, and when he looked back across the table, he saw Minho, Newt, and Fry looking at him with concern - but he gave them a gentle nod and rose from his seat to follow the man. Something in his gut told him that this might finally lead him to you - that his patience would finally pay off. And he wouldn’t risk that by throwing an emotional fit now.

He followed the man through a door he had never been allowed to touch before, down a long hallway, through another set of doors, and down several more long hallways - Thomas memorized the twists and turns as he had done with The Maze. First left, then right, then another left. It felt like they had been walking for too long, and Thomas had to wonder just how large this building was.

Just as Thomas was starting to feel truly on edge, the man came to a stop in front of a seemingly random door - one with a number on it. 708. He reached out, turned the handle, and opened the door. Then he nodded toward it.

“In.” He said, giving Thomas a simple, brute instruction to get inside.

Thomas was anxious and hesitant, but he pushed back those feelings - and he ended up being so glad that he did.

When he stepped inside, he was overjoyed to see you.

You were sitting on the edge of the bed (it was a room that, upon closer inspection was more like a one room prison cell - with a single bed, a single a toilet in the corner, and a small metal desk with a chair in the other corner) - you looked up when you saw movement in the doorway, having no clue what was coming next.

Your entire face lit up with intense joy when you saw Thomas.

“Thomas!” You cried out his name with intense relief, emotional tears quickly springing up in the corners of your eyes as you jumped off the bed and rushed to greet him.

“Y/N,” He breathed out your name like a prayer, his arms opening wide for you as they had been many times before.

You were quick to fall into the hug, tightly wrapping your arms around his strong torso, not wanting to let him go anytime soon. You had just been escorted back from your daily shower and your fresh clothes were still clinging to you with wetness, but he definitely didn’t mind the feeling of your damp skin under his hands. He didn’t care if you were getting his clothes wet because it was you.

It only truly hit you now how utterly terrifying the past few days had been. Going from your home in the Glade to such a strange new place, being ripped away from everything you had ever known. Alby’s death, Chuck’s death, Gally’s death - your friends dropping like flies. Being brought here and being ripped away from the safety of your friends, ripped away from the last people you knew and being completely isolated from them, not knowing when you would get to see them again.

Thomas’s tight hold around you - the familiarity of his body surrounding you, making you feel safe, it was something that made you realize how truly alone and scared you had been over the past few days. It made you realize that you had been swallowing down all of your emotions in an effort to protect yourself. It made you realize how much you truly cherished his hugs. How much you truly cherished him.

“I was so worried about you.” Thomas breathed out, clearly making a heaving effort not to cry himself.

You let out a gentle sob into his chest and he rubbed your back, trying his best to comfort you.

“It’s okay.” He assured you. “It’s okay - I’m here now. I’ve got you. I’m not gonna let you go ever again. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you, Y/N - I swear.”

Unconsciously, he was promising these things more to himself. He felt like a failure for letting you out of his sight in the first place. He had no clue what they had done to you that had made you so upset, and he cursed himself for not being with you in order to protect you from it. Even though he didn’t know what ‘it’ was, it was stupid for letting anything bad happen to you.

If either of you had been paying more attention, less caught up in the heightened emotions of the reunion, then you would have noticed the door sealing shut behind Thomas. You would have noticed the heavy ‘click’ of the lock as both of you became trapped there. But you had each other back now, and you couldn’t exactly care where you were in those moments - as long as you were in each others’ arms.

“What happened?” Thomas demanded sharply, pulling away from the hug slightly in order to put a hand on your chin, forcing your tear-streaked gaze toward his, hoping to get the truth out of you. “What did they do? What did they do to you?”

His energy increased in franticness the longer he went without an answer, staring at the sadness in your eyes with a knot forming in his stomach.

“Nothing.” You quickly replied, feeling as though this was the truth.

They hadn’t done anything to you. At least not anything that was outwardly malicious.

They had let you shower, given you fresh clothes, fed you three healthy meals a day. And other than the medical appointments that you didn’t fully understand the point of (some of which were slightly more invasive than you would have liked), none of it was dangerous or painful. You had simply been kept in this room the whole time. You had been scared from being under-informed and lonely from not being allowed to see your friends.

But none of that seemed like a crime. Especially compared to the treacherous deadly Grievers in The Maze.

“Please don’t lie to me.” Thomas said quietly, his throat choked off by the intensity of the emotions - the grief he felt for your sadness, the anger he was holding back toward whoever had hurt you. (And towards himself for not better protecting you.)

“Look, it’s nothing.”

You assured him, reaching up and grabbing his hand, soothingly petting your fingers over his knuckles in a gesture almost too affectionate for someone you called ‘friend’.

“Just - I was lonely. And I was scared because they wouldn’t let me see you. I was probably stuck in here, feeling all the same things you felt-”

Thomas cut off your words by pulling you back into another crushing hug, which you eagerly leaned into, cuddling your cheek into his chest, enjoying the warmth and the safety you felt from having his arms around you again.

“Yeah.” He easily agreed to this sentiment. And then he wondered: “Where have you been the whole time?”

“Just here.” You told him honestly.

You didn’t feel the need to tell him about the doctor’s appointments - even the unpleasant ones. Especially because you assumed that he and the other boys had been through the same, likely with a different doctor.

This caused another knot in Thomas’s gut. They had been keeping you in the same tiny room, not letting you see any other people? So - Minho’s theory about you being off in some other dorm making friends with a bunch of girls had been completely wrong.

It wasn’t outright cruel, but it made alarms go off in Thomas’s head. It made his protective instincts toward you act up again.

“I won’t let that happen to you again.” Thomas said firmly, trying his best to be assuring, even though he knew that he had no real authority over the decision.

He cradled your head soothingly, petting a hand over your hair in a sweet, protective way.

“Thomas-”

You were about to remind him of the fact that he held no power over this when a very strange sound caused your voice to shrink back into your throat as you became distracted.

You and Thomas both became drawn to the sound, both of your heads whipping up to look at it. Immediately, you saw that some of the tiles lining the ceiling had shrunk back, making way for small metal tubes that protruded out of the walls all around the room, creating a high-pitched hissing noise as they sprayed some kind of white mist into the air. This went on for about twenty seconds before it stopped, and then the tubes retracted back into the walls and the tiles slid back into their usual place.

…

“Chemical compound LI69 has been distributed.”

“How long until the subjects feel the effects?”

“Effects will be immediate. Symptoms should be noticeable in ten to twenty minutes. Desired outcome will be inevitable within twenty four hours.”

“Good. Keep bi-hourly notes. I want a full report.”

…

“What - what the hell was that?” Thomas wondered aloud, frantically looking around the room where the tubes had disappeared into the walls.

“I don’t know.” You replied honestly. “I mean - that’s never happened before. It - it was probably a disinfectant or something,” You shrugged, trying to rationalize it, trying not to jump to the conclusion that it was something poisonous or harmful.

Thomas let go of you and whipped around to the door - panic flooded him when he turned the handle and found it locked.

“Hello?!” He screamed, banging on the door and fruitlessly jiggling the handle. “Hello?! Assholes! You can let us out now!”

“Thomas,” You scolded him gently - his panic naturally unsettling to you.

You wanted him to calm down - his nervous energy was making you nervous. And you had spent far too much time over the past few days cramped up inside of this room being nervous. You wanted to simply be able to enjoy the pleasant fact of his presence after missing him for what felt like decades of loneliness. But Thomas wasn’t going to lay down and make that easy on you.

He rushed to the other end of the room, stepping up onto the desk chair and then the desk, peering into the vent as though he would be able to find a way out through there.

“Thomas, please - just calm down. I’m sure it was nothing.” You continued, trying to get him to calm down.

“Nothing?” He scoffed. “It’s never just ‘nothing’ with these people.”

This was the last thing he said to you before his mind locked in on the task, and he focused on trying to find a way out of the small room.

He spent a few minutes trying to loosen the bolts on the vent (which wouldn’t have been large enough for either of you to crawl out even if he did get the vent cover off). So all he did was make his fingers sore fighting against the welded metal. And then he moved on to brute force - he picked up the chair and tried to simply beat the doorknob clean off.

But again, it was something that was very well made, seemingly bulletproof. And by the time he had taken a few good swings, he was heaving with sweat, breathless, and he found it to be way too hot in the small space.

Surely his body was boiling over from the efforts of swinging the chair around in such a small, closed space. So he placed it down and moved to take off his shirt, surprised by just how damp the fabric was, seeped with sweat already in such a short time. He balled up the fabric and began patting himself down with it, trying to get some relief on his overly heated skin.

And then, his entire system became utterly distracted by a single, tiny sound.

A whimper.

He whipped his head around at lightning speed, realizing that it had been you who had made that sound - it had been your whimper. And suddenly, everything in Thomas’s body, every single one of his senses became utterly overwhelmed by you.

The sight of you on the bed, sitting patiently, waiting for him to fetter away at whatever plan he came up with next - you looked so stunning, so breath-taking. You were covered in a sheen of sweat, obviously warmer than before - so it wasn’t just Thomas. It wasn’t just because of his exertion in trying to break out of here.

Were they turning up the temperature in the room? Were they planning to cook the two of you as some kind of punishment?

Yet - that thought quickly dissolved off into Thomas’s mind as a distant worry the more he looked at you; the more he drank in your slightly parted, bitten lips - so pretty, so kissable. The more he looked at the way stray hairs stuck to your flushed, sticky skin, wanting to gently wipe them out of the way. The more he admired your breasts gently heaving with each breath, your nipples sticking off through your shirt and thin bra.

He wasn’t sure how he hadn’t noticed it before, but he could even smell you in the air.

Your natural smell was something so prominent in the air, something so perfect he could suffocate in tight in the small space. Shamefully, that scent was something he knew so damn well, something he had memorized and treasured close when his memories of life had still been so few and his head had still been so empty.

Hugging you those first few times, he had tucked his nose into your hair and greedily whiffed deep breaths of your scent, absolutely loving how you were sweet, soapy. Even if you were slightly sweaty from a long day of work, your natural scent was so damn perfect to him.

It was a smell that he loved so dearly - on top of everything else that he loved about you.

This time that wonderful scent that he knew as yours had something else underlying with it - something needy and pungent that he wouldn’t quite know yet was arousal. Your arousal. But it was bringing back that feeling of anxious insanity that he had been boiling with earlier that day. The feeling that made him practically crawl out of his own skin, feeling like he needed to get to you. Feeling like he needed to save you from some big, unseen danger.

Here, now, being in this room with you - he still didn’t feel close enough. He wasn’t close enough to you. He still didn’t feel as though that anxious thing inside of him, calling out for you had been answered. Not yet.

Thomas had the urge to reach out and pull you close, hold you in his arms again, but he had a feeling that he would squeeze you tight and not want to let go - and then he would lose focus on getting you out of this room and to a safe place. And that just wouldn’t do.

“Thomas - you-your shirt…” You whispered the words on the edge of your breath, as though you were breaking some terrible secret by speaking it aloud.

He had almost forgotten that he had stripped off his shirt in such a haste. The fabric was now clutched tightly in his shaking fist. Unconsciously, he was directing all of his energy to that point, furiously focusing on his grip to help himself resist the urge to reach out and grab you.

He hadn’t yet noticed the way you were looking at him.

Your eyes hungrily raking over his bare torso, scanning over every inch of him. From the muscles that bulged in his biceps while he moved, to the veins protruding in his forearms, to the trail of delicious dark hair down from his belly button that disappeared into his pants. It was a way you had never looked at him before. You had never truly noticed how Thomas - your strong, comforting Thomas - was so utterly, carnally sexy.

He thought nothing of taking off his shirt in front of you, because it was something he had done plenty of times before. He had done it while working in the gardens with you (as a leader in the Glade, you had rotated jobs a lot, going wherever a spare hand was needed). And you certainly hadn’t looked at him with anything resembling hunger in your eyes back then.

At least, he thought you hadn’t.

“Sorry.” He mumbled out, worried that he had made you uncomfortable by stripping so casually in front of you. “I just find it really warm in here, too warm, it’s hot - do you find it hot?”

He had to ask, hating that nagging heat, almost as if it was crawling under his skin - something so much different from the pleasantly warm sun of the Glade. This was a heat bubbling up from his very core, pin-pricking all over his skin from the inside out. He wondered if this was what a fever felt like.

Was he getting sick? Was he going to get you sick?

He felt another thick bead of sweat roll down his face and he used his balled up shirt to wipe it off.

“I guess?” You huffed out, seeming irritated. “Maybe.”

You squirmed on the spot and let out a pained sound, something that had Thomas on high alert once again.

“What’s wrong?” Thomas asked, purposefully locking his knees to keep himself from jumping toward you.

If he was getting sick, then invading your personal space wouldn’t be a good idea. In fact - he made it a point to take a step back, putting distance between himself and you. But he kept his eyes locked on you, keeping a protective watch over you while his back became flush with the metal of the door. It was a pleasantly cooling sensation for a moment before the fever inside of him overpowered it - reminding him just how boiling hot he was.

“It hurts.” You told him, your voice dissolving into a shaky, pained whine.

Shamefully, the sound rocked Thomas, and flooded him with something that could have only been described as arousal.

Fuck.

The way you looked up at him with glassy-eyes, tears barely edging your waterline, clearly hot and overwhelmed yourself, squirming against the bed - trying to get some friction against your… oh. Oh wow. That realization rocked him like a ton of bricks to the head, and even more heat swelled up inside of his gut.

You must have been feeling all the same things that he was.

Dizzy, hot, overwhelmed - having an intense need to hold you and to be held. Brain thumping with nothing but thoughts of you, mind littered with nothing but your smell, nothing but thoughts of your skin. Willing to do anything for you at a moment’s notice.

Thomas finally let himself flex to those needs, and raced across the room toward you - literally falling on his knees in front of you.

If you had pain, he would fix it. He would do anything for you.

“What hurts?” He asked, realizing that the desperation throttling his throat made it sound more like he was begging. But he was too far gone to care. “What hurts? What’s wrong? Come on, tell me. Please.”

You were almost too incoherent to put the feeling into words so quickly, as quickly as he needed you too. You were too distracted by the sight of his big soft brown eyes staring up at you with utter worship in them - along with his pink cheeks and bits of his dark hair stuck to his face with sweat, that softness contrasted by the broad hardness of his shoulders spread across your lap.

“Thomas-” You gasped out, cut off by his next action.

“Y/N, please.”

He grabbed up both of your hands, clutching them tightly in his own - and that, the first skin-to-skin contact you had felt since becoming this overwhelmed with the heat and the need - it set something off inside of you. It sent sharp shocks up your spine and made your pussy clench around nothing, sending a flood of wetness soaking into your underwear. And it made you feel too weak for your own good in that moment.

If you lingered there for too long, you would tumble into the abyss. You would simply give into every instinct screaming inside of your body and beg for him to fuck you until you didn’t know your own name.

And even though that was everything you had ever wanted, all you could remember wanting right then and there, especially from Thomas, the small remaining sense in your brain said that it was a bad idea.

You let out a sharp gasp, and raced to escape the touch - you knocked your hands out of his and squirmed away from him, jumping up off the bed. Thomas let out a whine of disappointment and crumbled tighter onto his knees, wondering what he could have done to disappoint you. Knowing that he needed to do anything he could to make up for disappointing you.

But something inside of his skull was chanting:

She’s in pain. Make it stop. Make her pain go away.

You know the answer.

And while you panicked, hoping to fight against what your body wanted, hoping to delay the inevitable, the thing that Thomas already knew he wanted, Thomas picked himself up off the floor.

All too soon, he crowded into your personal space from behind. You let out another shocked gasp as he pressed his body into yours from behind, the firm, intensely heated muscle like wall of lava engulfing you.

This time, not letting you get away, he secured you there with a hand around your chest that was oddly comforting, making sure to pull you close and keep you close. He forced you to feel every single inch of his boiling hot body pressed right up against yours. Sweat gently sticking against you through your clothes, his hot breath huffing against your neck, and what must have been the hard bulge of his cock pressing against the roundness of your ass.

It was all too perfect. And still, something nagged in the back of your mind that you couldn’t have that perfection all to yourself. Something must have been wrong in order for this to be happening to you.

“Thomas,” You whined out - unsure if you wanted to tell him to get off or wanted to beg him for more.

Instinctively, you reached up and gripped at his forearm, sinking into the security of his touch. It was soothing, in a sense, and at the same time - it drove your body mad and made the pain in your cunt so much worse.

Any mental clarity you previously had was quickly fading.

So much so that neither of you had the mind to piece together that this was happening to you because of the chemicals that had been sprayed into the room earlier. Not that you could do much about it now.

Thomas leaned over your shoulder, stuffing his nose into your neck, taking in a purposeful, thick whiff of your scent. He drank you in so shamelessly now, so happy to have you in his arms, right where he wanted you - right where he needed you. He held your body so tight to his, almost crushing you in his grip in the most perfect way - as if worried you might escape if he let you move even an inch.

Between desperate pants, he laid slick, open-mouthed kisses along your forehead, down the side of your face - lavishing you with affection, grateful and greedy now that he had you in his arms, now that he had caught you. Grateful that he had taken you from those bastards who had stolen you from him. Grateful that he had won.

His actions left you panting wildly into the air as the heat surged within your body - this attention on your skin not being enough, but yet, your mind was too muddled with the overwhelming heat to ask for more.

He continued kissing your skin, even nosing along your cheek before he finally gathered enough of his mind to speak.

“I’ll help. I’ll help you, Y/N.”

He huffed out, heaving more of his dense beautiful breath across your skin, making you whine again in return.

“I’ll fix it. Just tell me. Just tell me what hurts. Please, tell me. I promise I’ll fix it. I can fix it.”

His utter dedication to you was sewn into every word, clutching you tighter across the chest in a way that almost crushed your windpipe - something that made you gasp for air and nearly thank him for it, wanting to dissolve back into his hot muscles and live there, somehow still not close enough.

“I’ll do anything for you, Y/N, I will. I’ll help you. Just tell me, please.”

You found the fire of that dedication more enlightening than the one slowly boiling you to death from inside, and it was that - that sacred promise that had you finally giving in. It was Thomas’s sacred affection for you that finally made you feel safe to give into your body’s needs.

You reached out and grabbed Thomas’s hand - the one hovering by his side that wasn’t keeping you trapped tightly against his chest. His fingers locked tightly in a fist without the fabric of his shirt to keep his knuckles from popping under the fury of his own grip this time. You rubbed soothingly on the back of his palm, loosening the muscles there before you guided that hand between your thighs, guiding him to touch you on your still clothed pussy, through your pants.

“Here, Tommy.” You breathed out, your tongue feeling so fat and useless in your mouth. “It hurts here. Need your help. Need you.”

Without a moment of hesitation, instantly understanding what you needed, sparked with even more desperation by the nickname on your lips, Thomas sprung into action.

He began frantically rubbing your pussy through your pants - inadvertently pushing the zipper at the front of your trousers right up against your clit with the heavy weight of his palm. A sensation that made you keen out and arch back into him as though you had been possessed, harsh, amazing tingles zapping through your body from that tiny point. You threw your head back against his shoulder and relied even more on the strength of his body and the will of his grip across your shoulders not to fall down as ravenous pleasure overtook you.

“I’ll fix it.” He huffed into your ear.

His voice barely registered to you past the shocking beautiful pleasure he was causing between your thighs as he continued to rub your clothed clit.

“I’ll make it better. I’ll make it all better.”

He laid more hot, sloppy kisses against your neck and your cheek, and you could do little more than moan out loudly and squirm against him, becoming utterly lost in the sensations. You accidentally humped your ass against his cock in a way that made him growl and rub your clit even harder, even faster. It made you absolutely alight with pleasure, filling all of your senses with nothing but him. Nothing but the feeling of his strong arm working between your thighs, nothing but the scent of his sweat in the air, nothing but his quiet growls against your ear.

“Oh, Tommy!” You moaned out. “I’m gonna-”

Before you knew it, your body had been overtaken by the intense wave of an orgasm, something that had you crying out loudly and shaking in his arms, your body beautifully dizzy in seconds. You reached out to grip his forearm, leaving claw marks in his skin while you let out a stream of incoherent sounds as the sensations rocked you.

“Hey, shh. I got you. I got you,” He was nothing but a sweet assurance in your ear - his dick still throbbing and utterly needy in his pants, but forgotten in favor of pleasing you. For now.

After a few moments, he lifted his hand from between your thighs, causing a sharp whine of disappointment from you. He used this touch to force your jaw toward him, twisting your neck awkwardly to meet him in a kiss over your shoulder. It caused an ache in your neck, but you delighted in the feeling of his lips desperately clinging to your own, the chance to steal his breath.

You had thought about kissing Thomas many times before - but you had never imagined that it would be like this.

When it was over, there was one thing that both of you knew for certain: you both needed more.

“Please, Tommy.” You breathed against his mouth as you pulled away from the kiss. “I need more. Please.”

Every single instinct inside of him screamed to follow this order - that this was the divine answer to his existence. This was everything his life had been leading up to from the moment he had seen your sweet face after he had been pulled out of that fucking Box.

“I got you.” He assured you.

He then guided you back to the bed and - very hesitantly - separated his grip from you in order to make sure that you could comfortably lay down on your back. Within seconds, he was on you again, absorbing your mouth into a hot, desperate kiss while he laid flush on top of you.

You couldn’t help but to moan into that kiss, fisting your hands into his hair, holding him tightly to you as though he was your only source of oxygen - welcoming it when his tongue forced its way into your mouth. You sucked on it and moaned around him, becoming dizzier with the heat.

When you felt his hard cock against your thigh, feeling him jutting his hips forward to try and find some relief against you - it caused a deeper pain in your pussy, a distinct feeling of emptiness and you knew that you needed more. You knew exactly what you needed - what that ‘more’ was.

You pulled back from the kiss to whimper against his lips.

“More.” You pleaded gently. “Please, Tommy.”

“Yes.” He huffed back in return. “Anything - anything for you.”

Naturally, his hands went back between your legs, and you guided him up to the button of your pants, both of you working frantically in tandem to get your pants off this time. That nagging heat only building inside of you, something telling you that you would go insane if you didn’t get your clothes off soon. While Thomas ripped your pants down over your thighs, pulling your underwear with them, you sat up slightly and ditched your shirt, leaving you wearing only the thin cotton bra that had come with this set of new clothes.

Thomas let out a growl when more of your delicious scent hit him. With your pants around your ankles, it was more pungent now, ripe in the air, smacking him in the face in the most perfect way. And he felt another wave of crippling heat punch him in the gut as it fogged his brain over. It was so pungent that it was ripe on his tongue and he needed more. Something in his brain was chanting at him that he needed to taste it - he needed to devour that delicious scent, the essence of you, right from the fucking source.

With his tongue lapping at the air like a fucking dog, Thomas let out more thick, heavy breaths while he desperately tried to untangle the fabric from your ankles, trying to free you so that he could have better access to you. After a moment too long of struggle for both of your liking, he was finally able to toss it all carelessly behind him, leaving you almost naked beneath him.

But he didn’t have a moment to marvel at the beauty of your bare body. A sight that he had imagined so many times before in his mind’s eye, snuck away into the privacy of the woods with a hand tight around his cock thinking about this exact sight - no, he couldn’t sit back and simply drink it in.

He was a man on a mission - a man living through a years long drought and finally met with the glorious fountain that would eternally quench his thirst.

He didn’t even question the need to put his mouth on your pussy, didn’t wonder why the thought was so prominently at the forefront of his mind. Instead, he simply pinned your legs open against the bed with his palms flat on your inner thighs and did it, chased the urge that rang through his mind so damn clearly.

“Oh, Thomas!”

In seconds, it was the most divine thing he had ever experienced.

With you moaning above his head, gasping out his name, with your taste so pungent on his tongue, with your heat beating under his mouth - it was too fucking perfect to let go of.

Thomas moaned into your pussy, pure fuzzy pleasure melting his brain between his ears, making it impossible for him to think of anything but you. His mind filled with nothing but feed me, feed me, keep me alive, you are my life.

The thick taste of your wetness on his tongue was all he needed, all he needed to live from now on, nothing more. He could feel you squirming and fighting against him; he could feel your thighs jolting and jumping under his hands as your nerves were overstimulated. He could feel your hips bucking up into his face, smearing more of that perfect wetness across his chin and cheeks, smothering him in it - perfect, how perfect.

He could feel the sting of you tugging on his hair but it only added to the perfect sensation of dumb dizziness that pumped through him, that made him so fucking ravenous for you. It only made him moan into your cunt louder and shove his tongue into you deeper, looking for more.

“Oh, ugh! Tommy! Tommy!”

You felt like you were burning alive.

His tongue against you was horrible and perfect - doing nothing to relieve the ache deep inside of you, one that demanded to be filled.

His tongue lapping at you so hungrily only added more terrible, sweltering heat, causing more shocks of pleasure stinging up your body with each deep pass of his tongue that he swept over you, trying to devour you whole.

The more he moaned against you, the more he vibrated your already sore clit, making you cry out, the more he caused your body to be consumed by that deep, uncomfortable he. The more he made it near impossible for you to breathe past the moans fighting out of your lungs.

You desperately tugged on his hair, but only got his attention when you finally fought hard enough to get words out.

“Tommy, please!” You begged, tears spilling out of your eyes now. “Please, stop! It hurts!”

Those words - those painful words shocked Thomas back to reality.

Had he been selfish, drinking from your essence to satisfy his thirst without considering your own?

He pulled back from your pussy with a wet smack that made you whimper, taking his hands off your thighs, finally freeing your legs from the tight, stretched out position. Somehow, he looked even better staring you down with those needy, wide eyes while his face was covered in your juices.

“Sorry, I’m sorry, I-”

“Please, just - I need you.” You choked out in reply, reaching a shaking hand toward his pants. “I need you inside me, Tommy. I need you to fix it.”

“Yes, yes, yes.” Thomas replied, chanting to you as though answering a prayer in a place of worship, fully prepared to worship you as the goddess you were to him. “Yes, I’ll fix it.”

He rushed to get his pants and underwear off with just as much frantic struggle, and soon he was naked on top of you. Meanwhile, you ripped off the stupid bra in order to feel the satisfying press of his bare skin on yours, something impossibly boiling hot. A feeling that had you moaning into his shoulder while you hooked your leg around his hip, urgent to get closer to him.

Without a second of hesitation, Thomas sunk his cock inside of you.

His cock was a searing hot rod pressing into your well-slicked entrance, making both of you white-out with the feeling for a few moments while the need and satisfaction rattled through your insides. It was what you had both been waiting for, desperately needing from the moment that mystery chemical had hit your systems. And now that you had it - Thomas’s cock deep inside of you, the perfect satisfaction of being joined, being as close as possible, your body sang with perfect relief.

But there was still that nagging for something more.

Neither of you would be satisfied - it wouldn’t fully be out of your systems until you both came from this.

It was that nagging that had him gripping onto your hips, holding you still so that he could begin hammering into you, desperate to answer that nagging in the back of his skull: fuck her, take her, fill her up - she’s yours. She is yours.

It was a feeling so utterly perfect that you instantly relaxed against him - all of your muscles melting into the feeling of his cock fucking into you so rapidly, filling you up so well. You gripped tightly at his back, determined to hold him close, just as he had done to you before. You needed to keep him absolutely close, so tight to your body while his cock filled you up so perfectly.

“Tommy, please. Oh, oh, Tommy!” You moaned into his neck, your pussy fluttering around him as his hips stuttered.

Overwhelmed and dizzy with the heat, from the tips of his ears to the space where his cock sunk deep into your warm pussy, drowning in wetness, he could only focus on one thing. One single mission rattling between his ears.

Fill her up. Make her yours.

“Gonna fill you up.” He growled back, not even entirely realizing that he was speaking these words aloud - a sacred promise to him now, the only driving force of his entire life, the thing that his entire existence hinged on. “Gonna make you so full of me. So perfect, so full of me.”

Getting lost in your warm pussy, filling you up, making your pain go away, worshiping you. He wasn’t going to lose you again, he was going to keep you safe. He was going to keep you in his arms forever, was going to keep you safe, wrapped around his cock - forever. He fucked his hips forward harder, making a loud, wet smack continually resonate throughout the room as he tried his hardest to deliver on these promises.

“Gonna make you mine,” He growled, his voice reaching a deep tone that you had only ever heard when he had argued with Gally - ticked off, full of rage. “Gonna keep you safe. Forever.”

But somehow - this was different. It was a rage that was twinged with passion.

With love.

It was a sound that made all the hair on your body stand on end, forced a sharp gasp from your lips as it utterly rocked your body.

You dug your nails into his back, possessively gripping the flesh, holding him tightly, trying to keep him close. Forcing him to keep his promises.

“Yours.” You echoed back, your voice half-breath, half pure need.

“You are mine.” He groaned in return. “Mine, mine, mine, mine-”

He chanted this as a mantra, fucking into you harder with each utterance of the sacred word before he cut himself off with a harsh gasp, his hips stilling suddenly.

And then - perfection.

He pressed into you as deeply as possible, filling you up with perfect warmth, delivering on his promise. Your gut curled with a nearly painful orgasm in response, causing you to bite down tightly on the flesh of his shoulder as you moaned wildly against him. Tears leaked from your eyes as you were nearly blinded with euphoria.

“Mine.” Thomas hummed again, almost quietly to himself, leaving a small peak on the side of your neck to compliment his point.

Once again, just as he had done when he first entered the room, he cradled your head so softly, petting your hair soothingly. It was a deep contrast to the near rabid man who had been fucking you only a minute ago. And he gently humped his hips against you, something unconscious telling him to make sure that he fucked his cum deeper into you - nice and deep.

The two of you stayed tangled like this, instinctively not wanting to pull away from each other, an intense need to stay locked so close. Needing to be close to the person you needed most. In an effort not to crush you with his body weight, Thomas rolled onto his side, with you still holding him tightly, with your leg still hooked over his hip, with his softening cock slightly falling out of your now messy cunt - much to the disappointment of both of you.

(Thomas surprised himself when he shoved his hips forward, trying to get closer, trying to get back inside of you.)

But you both felt much more at ease now. And tangled together like that, with your arms wrapped around each other, with Thomas gently kissing over your forehead and your shoulders - you both dozed off into a gentle sleep.

…

Thomas woke up cold and alone.

He dressed frantically, and surprisingly, he found the door unlocked.

He had too many questions, and had one singular mission on his mind:

Find you, and kill anybody who had laid their hands on you without his permission.

...

A/N: Please keep in mind, this is a oneshot, and there will not be a continuation or a 'Part 2'. If you liked this fic, please consider showing me that by reblogging or commenting, but if you are going to comment, please comment about the body of work that has been written instead of asking for more. If you want to see more fics from this fandom, I will be posting more in the future, and if you want to see more things that I have already posted, I have over one million words worth of work between my AO3 (linked in my pinned post) and my Masterlist for you to enjoy. Happy reading, and I hope you have a great day!!

#sundrop writes #dylan o'brian x reader #dylan o'brien smut #thomas tmr smut #thomas x reader #thomas tmr #the maze runner #the maze runner x reader #the maze runner smut #the maze runner fanfiction

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vibelladonna · 3 months ago

Text

❛ 𝓈𝓃𝒶𝒸𝓀𝒶𝓇𝑜𝑜 ❜ 𝜗𝜚 𝒽𝓎𝓊𝑔𝑜 𝓍 𝒶𝒻𝒶𝒷!𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇

𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: The rules were simple—no strings, no expectations, just something to pass the time. Hyugo was easy enough to toy with, with all wide eyes and eager hands, a sweet little distraction when boredom or stress crept in.

A fleeting indulgence. Nothing more. But somewhere between stolen kisses and quiet confessions, between the way he shivered under your touch and the way he lingered just a little too long, the lines started to blur.

Now, the game feels different, the weight of unspoken words pressing closer. So tell me—when did it stop being just fun? And more importantly…

who’s going to admit it first?

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔: 18+ NO KIDS (Adults Only) This content contains mature themes unsuitable for children. Please respect the creator's intentions.

𝓇𝑒𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉: This one’s for the amazing @midnightminddz—your request totally caught my eye! I figured, why not dip my toes into writing this baby boy Hyugo first from the request? Plus, let’s be real here—there’s a criminal lack of Hyugo smut out there. I mean, I went looking myself, and guess what?

There are only eight. EIGHT. Like, what the actual hell? That’s practically a desert out there. So, consider this my contribution to feeding the starving masses.

𝓉𝒶𝑔𝓈: hyugo x afab!Reader, smut, friends with benefits, emotional intimacy, slow burn??, dom/sub undertones, praise kink, gentle dominance, romantic tension, sexual tension, vulnerability, emotional connection

It started off simple—just an arrangement.

A deal struck between two people who knew better than to complicate things. You had your own lives, your own ambitions, and absolutely no time for distractions.

Friday nights were reserved for him.

Without fail, Hyugo would show up at your door, sometimes grinning, sometimes looking at you with that playful, knowing smirk that made your stomach twist, acting like this was just another casual hookup. And for a while, it was. Without a word, without hesitation, you’d be on him—kissing, touching, taking whatever he was willing to give.

It felt loving in those quiet moments between dusk and dawn, when the world outside didn’t exist and the only thing that mattered was the way his body fit against yours, the way his lips parted under your touch like he was made for it.

He was always so easy like this—so eager, so willing.

Your personal snack you can say.

Because once the morning rolled around, when the golden light seeped through the blinds, spilling honeyed warmth across tangled sheets, the illusion cracked. His sweater vet—well-worn, almost tightly fit your frame—clung to the lingering heat of last night. And he was there beside you, shirtless, sprawled out, arm tucked behind his head. Watching you.

Always watching you.

His expression was unreadable, his gaze trailing over you like he was memorizing the sight as if he didn’t know when he’d get to have you like this again. Hyugo—your closest friend. The one who had spent the night pulling you apart and putting you back together again.

It was easy. Convenient. A perfect escape from the weight of everything else. Whenever things started to spiral, whenever stress curled too tightly in your chest, you called him. His name sat at the top of your contacts list, an unspoken promise that relief was just one message away.

Hyugo was okay with it.

It all started at a bar—one of those last-minute events you decided to throw together, a reckless, spur-of-the-moment kind of thing. The kind where cheap liquor flowed freely, and bad decisions were practically encouraged. You’d had one too many shots, the warmth of liquor burning at the back of your throat, pooling like liquid heat in the pit of your stomach.

You felt bold—maybe a little too bold, if you were being honest.

The kind of reckless bravery that only came from the perfect mix of alcohol and impulse. You knocked back another shot, your seventh by now before your gaze landed on him—Hyugo.

He was standing off to the side, caught in a halfhearted conversation with a few of his friends. But you knew just by looking at him—by the distant way his eyes drifted over the scene—that he was bored out of his mind.

Parties weren’t really his thing.

He was only here because certain someone, named Sol had dragged him along as emotional support as he wanted to his shot at his so-called crush, and now he was stuck pretending to care about a conversation he clearly wanted no part of.

You didn’t know what came over you, but one second you were leaning against the bar, and the next, you were pushing off it with a smirk tugging at your lips, striding straight toward him with the confidence of someone who had no business being that self-assured.

By the time you reached him, the small group had already started to disperse, leaving him standing alone. His gaze flicked up, meeting yours, and then—he smiled. A small thing, easy and familiar, like the two of you weren’t just casual friends who crossed paths every so often.

“Hey,” he greeted smoothly, taking your hand and pressing a chaste kiss to the back of it. A friendly gesture, nothing more. But the way his lips brushed against your skin—it sent a shiver rolling down your spine that was anything but friendly.

“Hyugo~” you breathed, his name soft on your lips, the alcohol swirling in your system making everything feel just a little bit hazy.

His eyes flickered with something unreadable before narrowing slightly, taking in the flush on your cheeks, the slightly unsteady sway in your stance. “You all right?” he asked, a steady hand finding the small of your back, firm but careful, just enough to keep you from tipping over.

“I’m doin’ just fine,” you replied, drawing out the words, looking up at him through lidded eyes. And then—laughter. Sudden, bright, bubbling from your throat before you even knew what was so funny.

Hyugo's expression shifted the playful glint in his eyes dimming with something closer to concern. “Okay, yeah,” he murmured, his grip tightening just slightly. “How about I take you back to your place?” You blinked up at him, considering it for a moment before nodding.

Maybe… maybe that would be for the best.

The ride back to your place was quiet. The world outside the car window blurred past in streaks of neon and moonlight, the alcohol in your system making everything feel just a little softer, a little less real. Hyugo’s presence was steady beside you, his hands gripping the wheel, his eyes flicking to you every so often—watching, making sure you were okay.

By the time you reached your apartment, the night air had sobered you just enough to feel the weight of exhaustion creeping in, but something else burned just beneath your skin—something desperate, something restless.

The door barely clicked shut behind you before you turned, hands reaching up to cup Hyugo’s face, fingers pressing into the warmth of his skin. You didn’t hesitate.

You didn’t think.

You just pulled him down into a kiss—hungry, deep, pressed against the wall as if you could melt into him entirely. His body went rigid for half a second, his breath hitching as your lips moved against his. But then, just as quickly, he stepped back, hands finding your waist to put some space between you. His eyes, wide and unreadable, searched yours before his brows knitted together.

“Holy shit,” His voice was soft, careful, but firm. “You’re a little under the influence… You’re not making clear decisions.”

The words hit like a sudden drop in temperature, dousing you in the reality of the situation.

You blinked up at him, lips still parted, fingers still tingling from the heat of his skin. “I—” Your breath shuddered as you exhaled. Shame curled in your stomach, replacing the warmth that had been there just moments ago. “I’m sorry.”

Hyugo’s expression softened instantly as he watched you deflate. Before he could say anything, your shoulders sagged, and you stumbled forward slightly, right into his arms. He caught you without hesitation, his hands steady as they hovered at your waist, unsure whether to hold you close or give you space.

You let out a shaky laugh, but it wasn’t really amused—more tired, more resigned. “I just…” You swallowed thickly, the words feeling heavy on your tongue. “I’ve been stressed, y’know? Thought drinking would help take the edge off, help me forget all the shit piling up.”

A breath. A pause. “But it didn’t.”

Hyugo didn’t say anything right away, but he didn’t pull away either. He was warm—so damn warm, grounding in a way that made you feel like maybe you weren’t completely unraveling.

“I shouldn’t have kissed you,” you muttered, voice barely above a whisper. “That was stupid.”

Hyugo exhaled sharply through his nose—almost a laugh, but not quite. His fingers twitched where they rested against you as if he was deciding something. And then, before you could process it—his hands curled around your waist, tugging you closer.

His head dipped, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was just as sudden as yours had been—but this time, there was no hesitation, no stopping. It was slow, deep, lingering. Like he was trying to tell you something without saying a word. Like he wanted you to understand.

He practically rips his clothes off His hands feel the exposed skin of your back now slowly guiding him into your bedroom. You just want him naked and his bare body on top of yours with his hands touching any part of you that it can.

Everything makes you feel like you are drowning, it’s like you can’t get enough oxygen as he practically kisses the life from your being before moving down your neck leaving marks.

Hyugo below you, his breath warm against your skin, lips stealing kisses like he had a right to them. His hands, firm and knowing, holding you steady as you rocked yourself on top of him, each motion slow—teasing, torturous. Your name fell from his lips in a half-broken moan, a sound so desperate it sent shivers down your spine.

Your fingers curled under his chin, tilting his face up to yours, and for a second, he hesitated—just a flicker of something in those soft baby blue, knowing eyes before you dragged his lips back to yours. A soft laugh swallowed between kisses.

A sharp nip to his lower lip, your way of keeping him in check. His quiet hiss was almost a purr, hands tightening around your hips in response, the warmth of his palms branding against your skin. And then, Saturday mornings rolled around as per usual.

You had rules set. Three simple rules meant to keep things clean, meant to keep this from turning into something it was never supposed to be.

1. No staying over.

2. No unnecessary texting.

3. No catching feelings.

So why did one—or two—of those rules always end up broken?

Looking back, the signs had been there for a while. Subtle at first, easy to ignore. Like the way, he lingered too long on Saturday mornings.

It wasn’t supposed to happen. He was supposed to get up, get dressed, and leave before the day truly started—before things could settle into something too domestic, too comfortable.

And yet, more often than not, Hyugo would stretch out beside you, arms tucked behind his head, watching you with lazy eyes, making no move to go.

“Five more minutes,” he’d say, voice still a little rough from sleep. “S’too early to get up anyway.” And then came the breakfast offers. “Y’know, I could cook for us?” he’d mention casually, already making his way to your kitchen, raiding your fridge like it was his own. He was good at it too, always making sure to ask what you wanted next time.

You told yourself it was harmless. But rule number one was broken.

Then there was the texting. Unnecessary texting was meant to be avoided—no random check-ins, no conversations outside of planning when and where to meet. Simple, clean, detached. So why did Hyugo contact you so often?

Why did he text you throughout the day—stupid things, like “Look at this cat I saw on the train” or “Sol was being an idiot today”—as if he couldn’t help but pull you into his everyday life?

You remember one night. You had an exam coming up, so you shut off your phone, buried yourself in assignments, and blocked out the world for a few hours. It wasn’t until you were done that you finally checked your messages.

Hyugo’s name flooded your screen.

Missed calls. Unread messages. Even one from Sol, checking in because “Hyugo’s being annoying as hell and won’t shut up about you.” And before you could even think to respond, there was a knock at your door.

There he was, standing outside your apartment, a bag of snacks in one hand, your favorite drink in the other. His usual playful grin was missing, replaced by something quieter, something uncertain. “You weren’t answering.” His voice was casual, but there was a tension in his shoulders. “Figured I’d just check.”

Hyugo had always been caring. And that should’ve been fine. That should’ve been normal.

But it wasn’t. Because rule number two was broken.

And if you were being honest—really, painfully honest—you had a sinking feeling rule number three was already slipping through your fingers. Why?Well...

One afternoon, you were lost in your thoughts during your Art classes, the kind of space where your mind often wandered between lectures. Sol was sitting next to you, and of course, Hyugo was supposed to be his project partner, but—well, Hyugo had a habit of disappearing or skipping out on things, especially classes.

You hadn’t even noticed it at first. It was a subtle comment, something so offhand that it almost didn’t register. But then, in the middle of your chaotic thoughts, you heard Sol’s voice break through.

"You and Hyugo sure act like a couple."

It was the kind of comment you could laugh off. So you did. You laughed.

You brushed it off like it was nothing. But later, when you were lying in bed, wrapped in the warmth of fresh sheets and freshly showered skin, those words crept into your mind like something that refused to leave.

You thought about Hyugo. You thought about how he always seemed to know when you were having a bad day, even before you said a word.

He had this uncanny ability to be there for you in a way no one else ever had. You thought about the way he’d look at you sometimes—like he was holding a secret like there was an inside joke only he understood.

And then came the real problem.

You tried to imagine what would happen if you ended the arrangement. If you finally said it, broke the silent rule: "This is over." If you told him you didn’t need him anymore. You should’ve felt relief. Should’ve felt lighter, as if some weight had been lifted off your chest.

But instead, there was this heavy emptiness that crept in, something wrong in your stomach. A feeling that shouldn’t be there.

You sighed. "Ugh…"

You rolled your eyes at yourself, but the weight of the thought lingered, nagging at the back of your mind. It was hard to ignore, harder to push away. You rolled to your side, pulling your phone out from underneath you. And before you could talk yourself out of it, your thumb hovered over his name.

It wasn’t Friday, but...

You pressed send anyway.

A casual text, inviting him over. Nothing too different than the usual, just a random offer to come over and watch one of those detective movies he loved to talk about during aftercare.

You could justify it, right? You could tell yourself it wasn’t anything serious. It was just a way to unwind, a way to relieve the stress from the week, from everything else weighing on your mind.

He’d be there. That’s how it worked.

And maybe that was the real problem. You’d let yourself believe it was just that simple.

It wasn’t long until Hyugo showed up right on time, a bag of snacks in one hand, a six-pack of your favorite drink in the other. He grinned when you opened the door, his usual playful smile stretched wide across his face, lighting up his eyes like he was genuinely happy to see you.

He didn’t waste any time, stepping in without waiting for an invitation, his eyes already scanning the room for the usual movie night setup. He was used to this, used to the rhythm of your arrangements—so used to it that he immediately dropped the snacks onto the counter and pulled out his phone. You made a mental note to pay attention to how casual he was like this was just another night.

But the reality felt slightly different, didn’t it?

You didn’t have time to dwell on it as you suddenly heard Sol’s voice on Hyugo’s phone. “Yeah, dude, they took their shirt off, and I went—”

You blinked, half-amused and half-cringing, while Sol’s words trailed off into something less than PG-rated. You crossed your arms, leaning against the wall as you waited for whatever came next.

Sol kept talking, but then his words caught up to him, and you saw that flash of awkwardness that was too human for the cocky, Hyugo you usually saw.

“Like, I actually had—like—my body had a reaction, what the hell, those—” Sol said, voice low and unsure, but still clearly flushed with the remnants of embarrassment.

You could see Hyugo’s eyes roll in the camera, “Dude, I don't need to know about that. Keep that to yourself. Anyway, gotta go." Hyugo let out a low sigh, dropping his head back for a moment, and you caught his tried look as he ended the call. He turned his attention back to you with a smirk, but there was something more in his gaze now.

Something questioning, probing.

“All right, what’s up with the sudden movie night request? You didn’t text me unless something was going on. Something you wanna tell me?” He raised an eyebrow, his voice teasing but still edged with concern, like he knew better than to think everything was as casual as it seemed.

You narrowed your eyes at him for a moment, but your breath caught in your throat. What were you even supposed to say to that? It wasn’t like you could admit how weirdly you’d been feeling—how the idea of ending your arrangement was something you weren’t ready for, but maybe also feared?

Instead, you just sighed, shifting your weight before turning to grab the TV remote, your back to him. “I just wanted to, all right? Nothing’s up.”

He gave you a long look, his gaze lingering on your form as you moved, and you swore you felt the weight of it even with your back turned.

You spun around and gave him a light pat on the head, an attempt to brush the awkwardness off, to pretend like you were unaffected. “Besides,” you muttered, “You’re here now. Let’s just enjoy the movie.”

For a second, Hyugo didn’t move, just staring at you as if weighing the sincerity of your words. Then, without missing a beat, he shook his head, a low chuckle slipping from his lips.

“Aww you’re so mean” he teased, his voice soft and easy but still holding that edge of curiosity. “But fine. Movie night it is.” You watched him settle on the couch, trying your best to ignore the weird sense of something lingering in your chest.

You clicked play on the movie, the soft hum of the opening credits filling the room, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that tonight felt a little different.

Something you still couldn’t quite place.

Maybe it was the way he kept glancing at you or the casual way he stretched out beside you, shifting closer and closer as if he was already comfortable in a way he wasn’t supposed to be. His arm brushed against yours, and before you knew it, he was leaning his head on your shoulder, an almost childlike innocence in the way he did it. You could tell he was trying to be subtle, but it was becoming obvious.

You stiffened, biting your lip, but you didn’t say anything right away. He wasn’t supposed to get this close. Not tonight. You had rules for a reason, after all.

And that means no cuddling unless it was Friday.

You shifted slightly, but he followed your movement, pressing his side against yours, his body heat seeping into yours. His face nuzzled into the crook of your neck, and you could feel him smiling, the faintest touch of his breath against your skin.

"You know," he started, voice muffled by your shirt, "I’m pretty sure it’s still a movie night, which means we’re allowed to, you know, do our thing.” His hand found its way to your leg, brushing against it like he was just testing the waters.

You let out a sigh, half amused, half irritated by how well he knew your boundaries. You had told him before—it was only on Fridays. That was the arrangement. You didn’t do the clingy thing on any other night. “Hyugo…” You hesitated, trying to pull yourself together. “It’s not Friday. You know the rules.”

He looked up at you then, his baby-blue eyes gleaming with that usual mischief and something deeper. His lips parted, but you could tell he was just about to give you that pouty look—the one you couldn’t ever resist.

“I don’t care about the rules tonight,” he whined, sounding almost pitiful, though you knew he was playing it up. He was like that—charming in the way he asked for things. “Please. Just this once, hug me? You can’t say no to me. You never can.”

You could feel the weight of his words, his voice practically begging for something he knew you were weak for. His eyes were locked on yours, and his hands, one still resting on your leg, slowly crept up to your waist, fingers brushing against your skin. You wanted to tell him to back off. You wanted to stick to the rules.

You really did.

But something in the way he looked at you, something in the way his touch was gentle and familiar, made it so damn hard to say no.

"Hyugo…" you started again, your voice weaker this time, “This isn’t what we agreed on.” But even as you said it, you already knew the inevitable was coming. He gave you that smile, that look that made your chest tighten, and you found yourself caving in, just like always. You were starting to think that maybe he didn’t need to break the rules—he had this power over you just by existing.

You sighed and leaned into him, your resolve shattering as you wrapped your arms around him in a tight hug. He immediately relaxed into your embrace, his head finding its place on your chest as he breathed a contented sigh.

“Thank you,” he murmured, voice muffled as he burrowed in closer. His body melted against yours like he had been waiting for this moment all along. “I knew you couldn’t resist me.”

You let out a small laugh, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. You were trying so hard not to admit how good it felt to have him so close to you. To feel his warmth and his weight on you, the steady rhythm of his breathing syncing with yours. You couldn’t deny it. “I’m not sure who’s the one who can’t resist,” you muttered, your fingers threading through his hair, almost absently. “You’re the one who’s always clinging to me.”

He grinned against your chest, his arms tightening around you as he relaxed even more. "What can I say? You're just too irresistible."

You felt your heartbeat in your throat, a quiet, unspoken tension building in the space between you, but the movie continued in the background, and neither of you moved. The silence hung thick, but there was a comfort in it too, even if you knew this wasn’t part of the plan.

Again, this is supposed to be an arrangement.

But in moments like these, with Hyugo nestled into your side, everything felt too natural. Too close.

As the movie played on, the air between you and Hyugo grew more comfortable, almost too comfortable for your liking. He shifted, his body pressing closer to yours as he reached for the box of snacks he’d brought with him—something he always did, a part of his little routine that never changed. You couldn’t help but smile at how predictable he was, how him he was, down to the snacks he chose. It was always something he’d drop-ship from somewhere, usually imported and overpriced.

"You're really dedicated to these, huh?" you teased, raising an eyebrow as he expertly opened the box of snacks.

Hyugo glanced up at you with that signature mischievous grin, the one that always made you suspect he knew exactly how much he was getting away with. "What can I say? I have refined taste," he responded, with a dramatic flourish as he pulled out a handful of Pocky sticks. "Plus, they're actually real. Unlike that cheap stuff, they make in the city."

You rolled your eyes, snatching the box from his hands before he could hide it. "Yeah, I know, you've mentioned how much you hate the stuff they make here." You paused, eyeing the Pocky sticks like they were some rare, prized possession. “Can I have some?”

Hyugo smirked, clearly enjoying the playful back-and-forth. "You always ask for some, and you know they’re my favorite. I’m not sure I can share them with you now.” He leaned back against the couch, clearly trying to be casual about it, but you could tell by the glint in his eyes he was planning something.

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really? You’re going to be like that?”

With a playful grin, Hyugo picked up one of the Pocky sticks, holding it between his fingers, then slowly and deliberately brought it to his lips. His eyes locked onto yours as the stick hovered just over his mouth, resting there teasingly. "I think I’m generous enough to share one with you… but only if you're lucky."

You narrowed your eyes, trying to act nonchalant. You knew exactly what game he was playing. He wasn’t going to make it easy for you. You reached for the box, but he was quicker—his hand darted in front of yours, pulling the box out of reach.

“You want it that badly?” Hyugo teased, his voice low and playful. “Well, come and get it.”

He pointed at the Pocky stick still balanced on his lips. "I’ll let you have it if you can grab it."

For a moment, you stared at him, both amused and slightly irritated by his antics. You were determined not to let him get away with this. Without thinking, you lunged for the stick, but he dodged—leaning back with a laugh that echoed through the room. You both tumbled into each other as you reached again, this time managing to grab onto his wrist.

"Hyugo, stop being ridiculous," you said through gritted teeth, but you were laughing despite yourself.

He smirked, clearly enjoying the chase. “I think you like it when I’m ridiculous.”

Rolling your eyes, you finally reached for the stick again, your fingers brushing against his lips. The movement was slow, deliberate until you were close enough to steal it from him—finally. You pulled back triumphantly, but just as you were about to break off a piece, Hyugo grabbed your wrist and pulled you back toward him.

“Hey, I was sharing it!” he protested with mock seriousness, but the mischievous glint in his eyes made it clear he wasn’t actually upset.

“Uh-huh,” you said, smiling despite yourself. “Sure, you were.”

With a dramatic sigh, he let go of your wrist and leaned back, clearly satisfied with the playful game he'd dragged you into. "You're lucky I'm generous," he said, reaching into the box to grab another Pocky stick for himself. "But I’m not that generous."

You took the opportunity to finally break off a piece, popping it in your mouth and giving him a smug look. "Thanks for sharing," you said sweetly, before winking. "Next time, though, I’m taking what I want."

Hyugo just laughed, shaking his head. "You can try, but you'll have to catch me first," he teased, throwing his feet up on the couch and sinking into the cushions with a satisfied grin.

It was like this—comfortably ridiculous, lighthearted, with the two of you playing off each other’s energy like you always did. The snacks were just an excuse for a good laugh, but that didn't mean you couldn't keep pushing things a little further.

Hyugo, clearly not ready to let the game go, leaned forward, his eyes glinting with that familiar mischievousness. He grabbed another Pocky stick, this time holding it out toward you with a little smirk. “You know, we could make this more interesting,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “The Pocky Stick Game. Ever heard of it?”

Your eyes narrowed in suspicion, though the hint of a smile was already tugging at your lips. “Pocky Stick Game?” you asked, trying to sound as unimpressed as possible, but you both knew you were intrigued.

Hyugo grinned like he’d just found the perfect way to get under your skin. “It’s simple,” he said, pulling a second stick from the box. “We each take one end, and we eat it toward each other. The goal is to get to the middle without breaking the stick or moving your mouth away.”

You stared at the Pocky stick for a moment, a little skeptical. “And what happens if we get to the middle?” you asked, knowing damn well what kind of ridiculousness was probably going to ensue.

Hyugo gave you an exaggerated shrug, his grin widening. “Well, you could always see where things go,” he said, eyes twinkling with mischief.

The idea of this silly game seemed too ridiculous to resist, so you leaned forward, grabbing one end of the stick and narrowing your eyes at him. “I hope you’re ready to lose,” you teased, trying to play it cool even though your heart was beating a little faster than it should have been.

With a dramatic flourish, Hyugo grabbed the other end of the stick, locking eyes with you. His lips curled into that signature smirk, and for a moment, you both just stared at each other, the tension building in the air.

Then, slowly, he began to lean in, taking a delicate bite of the stick, moving toward you. You mirrored him, taking your own bite, the distance between your lips closing with each second.

The game became something else entirely now. More intimate. As you both continued, the stick grew shorter, your mouths drawing closer.

It was ridiculous. Silly. But also... a little bit fun?

You could feel the heat of his breath against your lips as you leaned in, trying to maintain that careful balance—neither of you wanting to be the first to pull away.

You could see his eyes flicker between your gaze and your lips. You were aware of the closeness now, the tension hanging in the air. Neither of you dared to move back. It was the kind of situation that always had the potential to get a little... well, weird.

And yet, despite it all, you couldn't deny that your heart was racing, your breath shallow. His lips were so close now that you could practically feel the warmth of them against yours. It was like something you couldn’t escape, something that dared you to take that final step.

Hyugo, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, paused for just a second, as if he were weighing his options. And then, without warning, he closed the gap between you, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, teasing kiss.

It was over before you could even fully process it, but your body stayed frozen, your eyes wide as you both pulled away.

The Pocky stick? Gone.

The game? Completely forgotten.

Hyugo's grin was a mixture of smug satisfaction and something else—something unreadable. "Guess you weren't expecting that, huh?"

You blinked a few times, trying to find words to make sense of what just happened. “You cheated,” you said, though your voice lacked its usual sharpness.

There was something oddly vulnerable about the way he’d kissed you—like he was testing the waters, not sure what he was really hoping for, but willing to try anyway.

“Wasn’t cheating,” Hyugo replied with a casual shrug, clearly relishing the way you were looking at him. “Just went for the win.” His voice dropped a little lower as he added, “And maybe I wanted to see how you'd react.”

You shook your head, but a smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. "You're so silly, you know that?"

He just winked, clearly pleased with himself. "Maybe. But you love it."

You sat there for a moment, your thoughts swirling in a chaotic mess. You hadn’t expected it to get this complicated, and yet, here you were. Every touch, every playful moment, every laugh—it felt different now. What started off as a simple arrangement, a way to blow off steam, had somehow evolved into something more... personal.

Are you and Hyugo a thing?

The thought made your head throb. You had made it clear that this was just about relieving stress, no strings attached. You needed it to stay that way. You couldn’t afford to get caught up in something more. You told yourself over and over that you didn’t need more. That you could keep things uncomplicated.

But fuck, fuck, fuck, you were slipping.

The signs were there—his lingering glances, the way he seemed to know exactly when you were upset, the way you looked forward to his presence, even when it wasn’t Friday.

And that kiss just now? That wasn’t a ‘just friends’ kiss.

Hyugo leaned back against the couch, drumming his fingers against the box of Pocky. The movie played on, some detective unraveling a case in the background, but you couldn’t focus—not when Hyugo was still looking at you from the corner of his eye like he was trying to read you like he was waiting.

Trying to ignore the way your pulse had picked up, you forced a smirk, nudging his arm. “So, what? You wanna play fair now?”

Hyugo let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. “Maybe. Figure I owe you another round, since, y’know… somebody accused me of cheating.”

You rolled your eyes but took the bait, reaching into the box for another Pocky stick. “Fine. We’ll do it your way.” Holding the stick between your lips, you raised a brow at him. “Happy now?”

His grin was back—playful, teasing, but there was something else beneath it, something quieter. He leaned in, biting down on the other end, and for a second, everything felt normal. Just you and Hyugo, playing some ridiculous game like always.

But then—“Do you ever think about us?” His words came so softly, so unexpectedly, that your breath caught in your throat.

You swallowed hard, suddenly aware of how close he was—of the way his breath fanned across your skin, the way his lips were just inches away from yours. His eyes searched yours, waiting. Really waiting this time.

The stick trembled slightly between your lips.

“I…” You tried to find the words, but they felt too heavy on your tongue. What was he asking, exactly? What did he mean?

Was this still a joke to him? Just another playful tease?

Or was it something else?

“Hyugo, I—”

Before you could finish, Hyugo did what he always did—turned everything into a game. With a sly grin, he suddenly leaned in and snapped the last bite of the Pocky stick between his teeth, effectively winning again.

Your lips parted in disbelief as he chewed, looking way too pleased with himself.

“You—”

“Oops,” he said, voice dripping with fake innocence, licking the crumbs off his lips. “Guess I win. Again.”

The shift in tone was obvious—his usual teasing, playful demeanor sliding right back into place like armor. Like, Hyugo had caught you off guard—not just with the question, but with the way he asked it. The way his voice had softened, the way his usual easygoing mask had slipped just enough to make you wonder.

Did he really mean it?

Or was it just another offhand remark, a passing thought that would disappear like all the others?

You studied him for a moment, watching as he casually stretched, shifting to get more comfortable. But you weren’t fooled. His fingers drummed lightly against his knee, his shoulders just a little too stiff.

“Hyugo,” you started again, softer this time.

He looked at you, head tilting slightly, expectant—but that teasing smirk was gone. And that was the worst part.

Because, for once, you knew he wasn’t joking. You should’ve let it go. Should’ve just let a simple never mind slip through your lips like sand, ignored it, buried it beneath the comfort of routine.

But you couldn’t.

Not with him.

“No, wait, what do you mean?” The question left you almost automatically, like an instinct you couldn’t suppress.

Hyugo wasn’t looking at the movie anymore. His focus was entirely on you.

His face was inches away, the dim glow of the screen casting soft shadows over his features. His lips barely parted as he took in a slow, steady breath like he was weighing his next words.

"Us," he repeated quietly.

Your stomach flipped.

“Like… more than this.” His voice was softer now, lacking its usual playful edge. The teasing, the easygoing smirks—it was all stripped away, leaving something raw behind. Something real.

"Do you ever think about what happens after?" He hesitated, eyes flickering to where your legs brushed against each other, the warmth of his skin bleeding through. "When does the arrangement end? Or…" He trailed off, glancing down at the space between you, his expression unreadable for a moment.

You swallowed, throat suddenly dry. You tried to laugh, brushing it off like it was nothing. "Hyugo, we're just… doing this, right? You know the rules. No feelings. Just fun."

But his gaze didn’t shift. He wasn’t smiling anymore, his usual playful demeanor gone.

"That’s not what I asked," he murmured, voice low, almost like he was speaking to himself. His fingers twitched slightly where they rested against your arm. "I asked if you ever think about what happens when this ends."

His thumb brushed gently across the inside of your wrist, tracing slow, absentminded circles against your skin. You felt the warmth of it, the softness, the weight of something unsaid.

Your heart skipped a beat. You should’ve pulled away. You should’ve told him no, of course not, because that was the rule, wasn’t it? But instead, you sat there, your pulse hammering against your ribs, the words stuck somewhere in your throat.

Because you had thought about it.

More than once.

You thought about the way he lingered in your bed on Saturday mornings, and how his laughter stayed with you even after he left.

You thought about the way he always knew when something was wrong—how he showed up, unannounced, arms full of your favorite snacks like he could sense when you needed him before you even realized it yourself.

And worst of all?

You thought about what it would feel like if he wasn’t there anymore. And… you didn’t like that.

Hyugo studied your face, his eyes searching for something—anything—that would tell him what you were thinking.

Truth be told, you wanted to say something dismissive, wanted to put the distance back between you, to remind him that this was just a fling—something with no emotional attachment. But the sincerity in his voice, the weight of the unspoken words hanging between you, made it hard to ignore.

"Hyugo, this was always just supposed to be—"

"Yeah, I know," he interrupted, his voice more serious now like he was reading your mind. He sat up slightly, his hand sliding from your back to your side, his touch lingering longer than usual.

"But I don’t think I’m the only one who’s not… quite so sure anymore."

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. It wasn’t like you hadn’t noticed how things had changed—how his casual touches weren’t so casual anymore, how he stayed over longer than he should, how you found yourself thinking about him outside of those late-night moments.

You were lying to yourself if you didn’t admit that something had shifted, even if you didn’t know exactly what that something was.

Before you could respond, Hyugo moved, swift and conscious, pushing you back against the couch. His weight caged you in—not heavy, not forceful, but there. Unavoidable.

You let out a sharp breath, your hands instinctively gripping his hoodie as he hovered over you, his face dangerously close. His grin was back, playful, teasing—but there was something behind it this time, something almost challenging.

"You’re really gonna sit here and lie to me?" he mused, tilting his head, his fingers ghosting over your arm. "Act like you haven’t thought about it?"

You scoffed, masking the way your pulse stuttered. "Thought about what?" you shot back, feigning ignorance, hoping he’d drop it.

However, Hyugo had never been the type to back off when he wanted something. His hand found your wrist again, pinning it lightly beside your head. "You know what," he said, his voice dropping lower, taking on that infuriatingly smooth tone that always got under your skin. "I just wanna hear you say it."

Your jaw tightened. He was playing with fire. "Hyugo," you warned, trying to push him off, but he barely budged.

Instead, he leaned in closer, eyes narrowing with amusement. "You’re squirming," he observed, grinning. "That means I’m right."

Your patience snapped. "Oh, please," you sneered, throwing your head back against the cushion. "You think just because you look at me all soft and whisper some nonsense, I’ll suddenly fall into your arms? That’s cute, Hyugo. Real cute."

His smirk faltered, just for a second, but he recovered quickly, his grip on your wrist tightening slightly.

"See, there it is," he murmured, almost to himself. "You always do that."

"Do what?" you shot back, your glare unwavering.

"Act like you don’t care. Act like this is nothing." His free hand trailed up your side, slow, calculated.

"Like I’m nothing."

Your breath hitched, but you clenched your jaw, refusing to let it show.

"You are nothing," you said cruelly, knowing damn well it was a lie. "Just my Friday night guy, right?"

The moment the words left your lips, something flickered in his expression—something raw, something real. But instead of pulling away, he did the opposite.

Hyugo dipped his head, his nose brushing against your cheek, his breath warm against your ear.

"Say it again," he murmured.

Your fingers curled into his hoodie, your body betraying you even as you glared up at him.

"Say it like you mean it."

You refused to give him the satisfaction.

You refused to lose to the likes of him.

With a sharp inhale, you grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked his head back, forcing him to look at you. But instead of a pained reaction, Hyugo let out a quiet groan—low and pleased, his eyes darkening as he licked his lips.

Your stomach dropped. Oh. Right. You were so used to topping him, you should’ve known. Of course, he liked it.

The realization made you falter just enough for him to strike. His hand tightened around your wrist again, his other arm bracing against the couch as he leaned back down, his face just inches from yours.

"You always do this," he murmured, voice a little breathless, but filled with something dangerously smug.

"Act all tough, pretend you're not affected, but—" He smirked, tilting his head, his hair still mussed from your grip.

"You’re still holding onto me."

You gritted your teeth, ready to push him off, to deny it all over again—

But then he shifted his weight, pressing closer, and your body reacted.

Damn it.

"You wanna know the truth?" His voice was barely above a whisper now, coaxing, coaxing, coaxing you into saying something you weren’t ready to admit. "Say it," he urged. "Or I’ll make you."

You clenched your jaw, glaring up at him, hating the way he got under your skin. "Fuck you," you muttered.

Hyugo only chuckled, his fingers brushing over your jaw, his nose ghosting against your cheek again. "You wish."

And then—before you could stop yourself—the words slipped out.

"I think about it, okay?"

The air left the room. Hyugo stilled, his teasing smile fading into something softer, something unreadable. You could feel his breath against your skin, feel the heat of him so close. "Say it again," he murmured.

You swallowed hard, your mind screaming at you to shut up, to fix this, to deny, deny, deny—but the truth was already out, and you couldn’t take it back. "...I think about us," you admitted, barely above a whisper.

Something in his expression shifted—something you didn’t have time to process before his mouth was on yours. It was sudden, almost desperate, his lips crashing against yours like he’d been waiting for this, starving for this.

You gasped against his mouth, your grip on his hair tightening as he deepened the kiss, his body pressing flush against yours.

Wait—wasn’t this supposed to be movie night?

How the hell did it turn into this? Not that you were stopping him.

Not when his hands were sliding up your waist, gripping you like he was afraid you’d disappear. Not when his mouth was moving against yours, hungry, like he was making up for all the times you hadn’t kissed like this. Not when every tilt of his head, every teasing nip of his lips, sent a heat curling deep in your stomach.

No, you weren’t stopping him at all.

Because right now, he wasn’t just your Friday night guy—he was yours.

Hyugo pulled back slightly, breathless, his forehead resting against yours. His fingers traced slow, lazy circles against your hip as he smirked. "So," he murmured, voice low and teasing, "does this mean you actually like me, or are you just making out with me out of pity?"

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, though your face was burning. "Oh, shut up."

His grin widened. "That’s not a denial."

You sighed, glaring at him half-heartedly. "You really wanna know why I agreed to this whole arrangement in the first place?"

Hyugo arched a brow, a smirk playing at his lips, but there was curiosity in his eyes. "Obviously. Enlighten me."

You hesitated for a split second before deciding, fuck it, you were already in too deep. "You looked…" You dragged your fingers through his already messy hair, watching how his breath hitched slightly. "Lowkey fuckable."

His smirk widened, his ego practically inflating right in front of you. "Oh? That’s all?"

You hummed, feigning thoughtfulness. "I mean… yeah. You were kinda like a snackaroo to me."

His grin faltered. "A what?"

You fought the laugh bubbling in your throat. "A snackaroo. Y’know—a small meal you have between breakfast, lunch, and dinner. A little treat to tide me over." You leaned in slightly, your voice dropping to something teasing. "Whenever I was bored. Stressed. You were my little snack."

Hyugo stared at you, blinking before he burst out laughing. "Oh, that’s messed up. I was just a quick fix for you?"

"At first," you admitted, lips quirking. "You were convenient, always there, always good—" Your fingers traced along his jaw, feeling the tension beneath your touch. "But then… you became something else."

His laughter faded, replaced by something quieter. "Something else?"

You swallowed, suddenly feeling too bare, too exposed.

But this was Hyugo.

The little short shit who always knew when to push and when to let you be.

“You balanced me all right,” you murmured, your thumb brushing gently over his cheek, the touch tender and lingering. “Made me laugh when I didn’t feel like it. Kept me in check when I got too stuck in my head. And somehow, without even trying, you became…”

Your voice wavered, the weight of the words catching in your throat before you finally pushed them out. “More.”

Hyugo’s usual smirk faded, replaced by something softer, something genuine. His fingers slid along your waist, pulling you closer, anchoring you to him. “Damn,” he muttered, his voice low and rough, but with a hint of awe. “You really got it bad for me, huh?”

You rolled your eyes, scoffing. “Shut up.”

But he only grinned wider, his hands tightening around you. “Nah, I like this. You like me. Admit it.”

“Nah, not anymore…” you sighed, feigning indifference, but the way your body leaned into his betrayed you.

Suddenly, his hands slipped under your shirt, his fingers skimming over your skin before finding your breasts. He froze for a moment, his breath hitching when he realized you weren’t wearing a bra. A devilish smirk spread across his lips as his fingers immediately began toying with your nipples, pinching and twisting them between his thumb and index finger.

“You’re such a liar,” he teased, his voice dripping with amusement. “Look at you, baby. I haven’t even done anything, and your nipples are already hard!” He laughed, the sound low and warm, sending a shiver down your spine.

Before you could snap back with a retort, his lips crashed into yours in a kiss that was slower this time—deeper, more deliberate. It wasn’t just playful or teasing anymore; there was a weight to it, a steady intent in every brush of his mouth against yours.

His hands weren’t just roaming now; they were exploring, tracing the shape of your body like he was committing every curve to memory. Every touch, every press of his fingers against your skin, felt like he was marking you—not in a way that claimed ownership, but like he was engraving himself into your very being.

You caved, of course. How could you not?

His lips left yours, trailing down to your neck, where he latched on with wet, open-mouthed kisses. He sucked and bit at your soft skin, leaving hickeys and love bites scattered everywhere.

Hyugo needed to mark you, needed everyone to know that you were his.

Just the thought of owning you made his body thrum with anticipation, his desire evident in the way his hands gripped you tighter, the way his breath hitched against your skin.

You let out breathy whimpers, your body arching into his touch, and you felt his smirk against your neck. “Your sounds are so pretty,” he whispered huskily in your ear, his voice sending a jolt of heat straight to your core. “Need to hear more.”

Hyugo had waited so long for this, for you, in his own little way.

You could feel it in how his movements were softer now, in the careful way he touched you, as if he was afraid to break something fragile. The little shit had waited for his turn—and now, here he was, taking it.

He wasn’t just kissing you for the hell of it, or because you two were in some arrangement. He was kissing you like he wanted to make his mark like he was trying to show you that there was more to this than whatever casual thing you’d been doing.

And you let him. You let him because, deep down, you knew it too.

It wasn’t long before the two of you stumbled into the sanctuary of your bed, the cool sheets brushing against your bare skin as you lay back, sending a delicious shiver rippling down your spine. The room was bathed in a soft, intimate glow, the air thick with anticipation and something deeper—something that hadn’t been there before.

You hadn’t even noticed when or how your or his clothes had disappeared, scattered somewhere between the door and the bed, lost in the heat of the moment. All you knew was that Hyugo was there, his body hovering over yours, his presence both commanding and tender.

His weight was perfectly balanced, careful not to press too hard, as if he was afraid of shattering the delicate, electric tension that crackled between you.

But this wasn’t the same Hyugo you’d known before. There was a reverence in the way he moved now, his hands braced beside you, his body steady but not overwhelming. He wasn’t rushing, wasn’t treating this like just another fleeting encounter.

No, he was savoring every second, every breath, every touch, as if this moment—you—mattered to him in a way that went beyond the physical.

His eyes locked onto yours, soft and loving. His fingers traced the curve of your jaw, his touch feather-light as if he was memorizing every detail of you. The way his breath hitched when your skin brushed against his, the way his chest rose and fell in time with yours—it all felt different.

This wasn’t just another casual arrangement, another Friday night deal to blow off steam.

This was different now. And you were both falling into it, together.

"Are you sure about this?" His voice was low, barely above a whisper, his lips brushing against your cheek in a kiss that was soft but held a weight that made your heart race.

His hands remained steady, braced against the bed to keep his body from fully pressing into yours, but the warmth of his chest against yours was undeniable. You could feel the heat rising between you, a burning, magnetic pull that only intensified with every second.

Your pulse raced as his question hung in the air, the vulnerability in his tone catching you off guard.

Your lips parted, and the words were almost a confession. “Yes,” you whispered back, your voice betraying the uncertainty you were trying to mask. But you reached up, letting your hand trail along his neck, fingers tracing the curve of his Adam’s apple.

You pressed gently, feeling his pulse beneath your fingertips. His eyes softened, something flickering in them, a mix of tenderness and desire. But before he could say anything, you gently pushed him back, just enough to create some space.

“How about I’ll be your snack tonight?” you purred, your voice softer than you intended, but laced with a quiet defiance that dared him to take the bait.

“Do whatever you pleases, I give you full say-so.”

The words slipped out before you could add on, and for a moment, you regretted how much you’d exposed yourself. You hadn’t meant to be so vulnerable, hadn’t meant to hand him the reins so completely—but the truth was undeniable.

You wanted him.

No, you craved him.

You wanted him to ravish you, to use you, to take you apart piece by piece until there was nothing left but the two of you, tangled and breathless.

But before you could retreat, before you could pull back the words or the unspoken invitation that had slipped through your defenses, it was too late. Hyugo’s smirk returned, sharper and more deliberate than before, his eyes locking onto yours with a predatory focus that sent a shiver racing down your spine.

He didn’t need another invitation.

He didn’t need permission.

He already knew what you wanted—what you needed—and he was more than ready to deliver.

His fingers brushed against your soaked pussy with a confidence that made your breath hitch. “Oh, so wet for me already?” he teased, his voice low and dripping with amusement. His chuckle reverberated through you, sending a fresh wave of heat pooling between your thighs.

His fingers danced over your slick folds, gathering the evidence of your desire and spreading it over your sensitive bundle of nerves. He circled slowly, deliberately, his touch light but maddening, each stroke sending sparks shooting through your body.

You squirmed beneath him, your hips instinctively arching into his touch, but he held you steady, his other hand gripping your hip with a firmness that made your pulse race.

“So eager,” he murmured, his voice a mix of admiration and mischief. “But I’m not done playing yet.” He continued to tease you, his fingers exploring every inch of you, driving you closer and closer to the edge without letting you fall.

But then, his control snapped.

“Fuck, baby, I can’t wait anymore,” he growled, his voice rough with need. “I need you. Now.” He was quick to close the distance, his body still on top of you, pressing against yours with an urgency that left no room for hesitation. His hands, his presence, his very being demanded your surrender.

And then, with a boldness that stole your breath, he dove in, his cock sliding between your breasts with a rhythm that was rough and quick.

The sensation was electric, a wild, crackling current that surged through you as his skin slid against yours, setting every nerve ablaze.

Your body responded with a hunger of its own, your breasts pressing together, soft yet firm, as if they were made to cradle him. Your fingers curled into fists at your sides, not to hold back, but to amplify the pressure, to create a snug, velvety haven that enveloped him completely.

You didn’t need your hands—this was all about the intoxicating friction, the way your body seemed to know exactly how to hold him, how to tease and tempt without a single touch of your fingers. The air between you grew thick with gasps and moans, a symphony of desire that made time itself pause as if the universe was holding its breath just to watch.

Every thrust, every desperate grind, was a fiery declaration of the bond you shared—a raw, unspoken language of need and passion that neither of you could resist. And as he moved between your breasts, his breath hot and ragged above you.

Hyugo’s baby blue eyes locked onto yours, soft and smoldering with a mix of mischief and desire, as he watched you take control—only to surrender it right back to him.

The way you guided him, the tip of his cock brushing against your lips, sent a jolt of anticipation through him. His breath hitched, and a wicked grin spread across his face as he realized what you were offering.

“Oops,” he teased, his voice low and dripping with playful arrogance as if the idea had just dawned on him. But there was no hesitation in his movements. With a firm grip on the back of your head, he pushed forward, his cock sliding past your lips and into the warmth of your mouth. The sensation was overwhelming for both of you—his groan mingled with your muffled whimper, a symphony of pleasure and surrender.

He didn’t hold back, his hips moving with a rhythm that was both demanding and intoxicating. Each thrust was deliberate, a claim, a reminder of the power he now held over you. Yet, there was something tender in the way he watched you, his gaze never leaving yours, as if he was savoring every second of this intimate control.

Your hands found their way to his thighs, not to push him away, but to steady yourself, to anchor yourself in the storm of sensations. The taste of him, the weight of him on your tongue, the way he filled your mouth completely—it was all-consuming. And as he fucked your mouth with a rhythm that left you breathless, you could feel the tension building, the heat between you reaching a fever pitch.

Hyugo’s breath came in ragged bursts, his voice a low growl as he murmured your name, a mix of praise and desperation.

“That’s it,” he coaxed, his fingers tangling in your hair, guiding you gently but firmly. “Take it all.”

The rhythm between you escalated, a feverish, unrelenting tempo that left no room for hesitation. Hyugo’s movements grew erratic, his control slipping as his body coiled tight like a spring ready to snap. And then it happened—his hips stuttered, his breath caught, and a low, guttural groan tore from his throat, raw and unfiltered.

You felt it before you saw it: the sudden warmth of his release, the first pulse landing hot and heavy on your waiting tongue, while the rest painted your cheeks and chin in messy, glistening streaks.

He pulled back, his chest rising and falling in ragged waves, a faint blush creeping across his face as a sheepish grin tugged at the corners of his lips. “Sorry… I didn’t mean to—” he started, his voice trailing off, but the flicker in his eyes gave him away. That sly, almost guilty glint, the way his words wavered just enough to betray the lie—it was all too obvious.

He wasn’t sorry—not really. And neither were you.

You didn’t let him off the hook. A sighed as your tongue wiped at the corner of your mouth with a deliberate flick of your tongue, savoring the taste of him. “Didn’t mean to? Really, Hyugo?” Your tone was light, teasing but edged with a sharpness that made his grin falter, his confidence wavering under your gaze.

You huffed, averting your eyes as a muttered complaint slipped out, “So annoying…”

A flicker of irritation crossed Hyugo’s features as he leaned in, his hands gripping your wrists and pinning them above your head with a grip that was just shy of too tight.

“You’ve got a smart mouth,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous, though there was a hint of a pout in there somewhere. “You say this is my chance, but you’re always so mean to me.” He said it with an almost adorable whine—if he wasn’t currently manhandling you like a feral raccoon who’d just found a treasure trove of snacks.

Before you could retort, he pushed you back onto the bed, his weight pressing you into the mattress like he was trying to imprint you into it. He spread your legs wide, positioning himself between them with a determination that was both impressive and slightly concerning.

And then—oh.

You gasped as he entered you in one swift, deep thrust, bottoming out inside you with a force that left you breathless. It was like he’d been launched out of a cannon, all pent-up energy and zero patience. His pace was frantic, almost comically so, like he was trying to win some kind of gremlin gold medal in the ‘Who Can Fuck the Fastest’ Olympics.

Now, it seemed like he was taking your comment personally. Pity.

“Hyugo—!” you managed to choke out, but he wasn’t listening. His eyes were sharp, and focused, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts as he drove into you again and again, each thrust harder and faster than the last. It was overwhelming, ridiculous, and somehow perfect.

“You’re so—” he started, his voice breaking as he struggled to form words between thrusts, “—so fucking mean, but I—ah—I can’t stop—”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound bubbling up even as your body quivered under his relentless, almost punishing rhythm. “You’re such a gremlin,” you managed to tease, though the words came out fragmented, breathless, more of a gasp than anything coherent.

He didn’t deny it. Instead, he leaned down, his lips grazing the shell of your ear as he murmured, “Your gremlin,” his voice low and dripping with possessiveness. And then, as if to drive the point home, he surged forward, his pace intensifying, each thrust deeper, harder, more deliberate—like he was determined to brand himself into your very being.

But then, just as you were beginning to lose yourself in the rhythm, he slowed. Painfully, excruciatingly slow, drawing out every movement until you were squirming beneath him, desperate for more. “Do you still think I’m annoying?” he giggled, his tone light and teasing, but his eyes glinted with mischief.

You glared up at him, your frustration evident. “Go faster,” you demanded, your voice strained.

He shook his head, that cheeky smile of his spreading wider. “Say please, and I will.”

You scoffed, your pride flaring. “Aww, In your dreams.”

His expression shifted, a playful frown tugging at his lips as he grabbed your face, his grip firm but not unkind. And then, without warning, he snapped his hips forward, his pace turning brutal, each stroke deep and unrelenting, punishing most deliciously. Your breath hitched, your body arching as a strangled cry escaped your lips.

“Wha—wait, wait—fuck,” you pleaded, your voice breaking under the onslaught.

“Nuh-uh,” he chided, his tone mock-stern. “I’m sick of you being so mean to me.”

��Hyugo, fuck, please—” your voice broke, trembling as the pleasure coiled tighter, threatening to snap. “Please, please—” you begged, your words spilling out in a desperate, breathless chant. Your resolve was crumbling, your body trembling beneath him as you teetered on the edge of something overwhelming, something you couldn’t control.

And then he smiled—that smile.

A slow, satisfied, almost predatory grin spread across his lips as he watched you come undone. This was exactly where he wanted you: whimpering, pleading, completely at his mercy. It was a sight he’d fantasized about more times than he could count. Him, finally topping you? It was almost too good to be true.

His mind flashed back to all those nights when you were the one in control when you’d straddled his lap, teasing and taunting him with that perfect mix of cruelty and kindness.

You’d shown him what it meant to be taken care of, and he’d loved every second of it—your dominance, your confidence, the way his breathy little whines had escaped despite his best efforts to stay composed. But now? Now the tables had turned, and he was the one driving you wild.

He felt your tight, warm walls clenching around him, and it was all he could do to keep himself together. His hips moved with a relentless rhythm, pressing you into the mattress as he claimed you in a way that left no doubt who was in charge now. His eyes rolled back, a shuddering moan tearing from his throat—a sound so raw, so scandalous, it made your cheeks burn.

His fingers gripped the sheets like they were the only thing keeping him grounded, his mouth falling open as he panted above you, his sweet, innocent lips betraying just how much he was losing himself in you.

But even as he took control, even as he pinned you beneath him, he couldn’t seem to shake that needy, begging side of himself.

“More—I need more of you,” he whined, his voice trembling, his hands roaming your body, gripping and squeezing your soft flesh as if he couldn’t get enough. His mouth sought yours in a clumsy, desperate kiss, his breath hot and ragged against your lips as he tried—and failed—to muffle the sounds escaping him.

From below, you watched him with a mix of awe and amusement, your brain short-circuiting as he moaned your name in that breathy, broken way of his.

It was almost comical, the way Hyugo tried so hard to wear the mask of control, to play the part of the confident, commanding lover. But beneath that façade, he was unraveling, his voice trembling, his body quivering with need.

Oh, no. No matter how much he tried to take charge, no matter how fiercely he gripped your hips or how deeply he thrust into you, he could never quite shake off that pleading, desperate side of himself. It was always there, lurking just beneath the surface, waiting to break free.

And maybe—just maybe—he needed a little help to let it out.

Your fingers tangled in his soft hair, tugging gently but firmly, forcing his gaze to meet yours. His eyes, dark and hazy with desire, locked onto you as you moaned, “Eyes on me, baby boy, come on.” He obeyed instantly, his breath hitching as he stared at you, completely captivated.

“Keep pushing, I know you can do it. You’re doing so well,” you murmured, your voice dripping with praise, each word a sweet caress that seemed to fuel him even more.

A soft, needy moan escaped his lips, and he dipped his head down to suck at your breast, his tongue swirling in a way that made your back arch. But then he looked up at you, his eyes wide and pleading, like a lost puppy begging for guidance.

“Too much…” he whined, his voice barely above a whisper, his hips stuttering as they moved desperately against yours, chasing his release.

You couldn’t help but smile, your hands sliding down to his hips, stilling his movements just enough to tease him.

“C’mon, you’re so close, I can feel it. You’re making me feel so good,” you cooed, your words a soft melody whispered into his ear. “Can you do that for me, baby? Can you give me everything you’ve got?”

He nodded frantically, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. “Yes… yes, ma’am. Please— I love you. I love you,” he babbled, his voice breaking as he clung to you, his body trembling with the effort to hold back.

“I’ll make you feel so good,” he promised, his voice low and rough, each word dripping with a mix of determination and adoration. His hands gripped your hips tighter, his body moving in sync with yours as you guided him back into rhythm. Your fingers dug into his skin, urging him deeper, harder, faster—every thrust was a testament to the raw, unbridled connection between you.

And then it happened.

His control shattered, his body trembling as he finally let go, a guttural moan tearing from his throat as he came undone. You felt every shudder, every pulse, every wave of his release, and a surge of triumph washed over you.

This was your doing.

You had unraveled him, piece by piece, until there was nothing left but pure, unfiltered ecstasy.

But then, as his breathing began to steady, he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear, and whispered something that made your eyes widen in disbelief.

“I’ll be the first and last to give you the best fuck in your life.”

Wait, what now?

You blinked, your mind momentarily short-circuiting as his words sank in. A playful smirk tugged at your lips, and you couldn’t help but laugh at the sound of light and teasing. “Oh, really?” you shot back, your tone dripping with mock skepticism. “Bold words for someone who just came apart like a house of cards.”

His cheeks flushed, but he didn’t back down, his grin turning cocky as he nipped at your neck. “Don’t you want me to make you feel good?” Hyugo’s voice was soft, almost innocent, but the glint in his pleading eyes told a different story. You barely had time to process his words before he was on you again, fucking you hard and deep, his fingers pinching and teasing your breast until a sharp moan tore from your lips.

“Shit, I-I do…” you mumbled, your voice trembling as you tried to catch your breath. “Baby boy, aren’t you going a little—“

“—so you’ll take more of me, right?” he interrupted, not giving you a chance to finish before he slammed himself back into your swollen, aching pussy. The force of it knocked the air out of your lungs, leaving you gasping dryly before your head fell back onto the pillow beneath you in defeated pleasure.

Your fingers clutched at the soft sheets of the plushie, holding on for dear life as he took control.

Shit, what is this??? Your mind raced, trying to make sense of the whiplash. One moment, he was this sweet, submissive boy begging for your praise, and the next, he was flipping the script, dominating you with a confidence that left you reeling.

This little short shit loved playing with your body, loved keeping you on edge, and you were both frustrated and turned on by it.

“F-fuck…” Hyugo let out a soft moan, his hand pressing against his stomach as if he could feel just how deep he was inside you. His thrusts were sloppy and wet, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. His heavy balls pressed against your soaked ass, a mix of sweat and cum making everything slick and overwhelming.

The overstimulation was too much, your body betraying you as your pussy clenched and spasmed, cumming over and over against your will. It was just how he liked it—just how you liked it, even if you wouldn’t admit it out loud.

“H-Hyugo, please… ca-can’t… I…” you mumbled, your head falling back as your body writhed beneath him, completely at his mercy.

“Shh, don’t ne-need you to do anything, okay..?” he stammered, his voice shaky but firm. “J-jusT take it… and it’ll all be over soon…”

God, he treats sex like a damn guessing game, your mind hazy with pleasure. You didn’t understand why he played these little power games, especially when he knew your body better than you did. He knew exactly how to make you squirm, how to make you beg, and how to flip the script just when you thought you had the upper hand.

His thrusts grew even sloppier, but he somehow managed to keep that same frantic, relentless pace. His moans became higher-pitched, more desperate, his hands gripping your hips so tightly you were sure there’d be bruises tomorrow.

But you didn’t care—not when every thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body, not when his voice broke as he whispered your name like a prayer.

“F-fuck… you’re so… so good…” Hyugo panted, his voice breaking as his rhythm began to falter, his thrusts growing erratic and desperate. His body was coiled tight, every muscle trembling as he teetered on the edge of release. “J-just… a little more…” he begged, his words slurred and breathless, his hips stuttering as he fought to hold on just a little longer.

You could only nod weakly, your own body too overwhelmed, too lost in the haze of pleasure to do anything but take what he gave you. Your moans were shaky, your hips meeting his thrusts with a frantic urgency that told him you were close—so close.

“F-fuck, I’m gonna cum!” he whined, his head thrown back, his mouth wide open as he chased his release with reckless abandon. His smirk was fleeting, a flicker of smug satisfaction as he hovered over your quivering form, his lips peppering kisses along your neck, his breath hot and ragged against your skin.

His fingers found their way to your puffy, sensitive clit, his thumb pressing down and drawing fast, tight circles that sent electric shocks of pleasure shooting through you. He was determined to push you over the edge with him, to make you fall apart in his arms.

And fall apart you did.

The moment your climax hit, it was like a dam breaking—waves of pleasure crashing over you, your walls clenching around him, milking him for everything he was worth. He came almost instantly, hot ropes of thick cum shooting deep inside you, his moans loud and unrestrained, a symphony of whimpers and grunts that only made you more sensitive, more aware of every inch of him.

“H-haa… please keep milking my cock… fuck just like that…” he groaned, his pace slowing to a sensual, deliberate rhythm, his hips rolling against yours as he rode out the last waves of your shared ecstasy.

When he finally pulled back, his smirk was replaced by a devilish grin, his eyes dark with satisfaction as he took in the sight of you—flushed, trembling, and utterly ruined. He leaned in, capturing your lips in a soft, lingering kiss before pulling out, his hot, sticky seed already leaking from your well-used pussy.

But he wasn’t done yet. With a sly chuckle, he gathered the pearly remnants of your lovemaking on his fingers and pushed them back inside, his touch possessive, almost reverent. “Can’t let it go to waste,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

His grin widened as he leaned over you, his predatory gaze locking onto yours. “Wanna go to bed for round two, babe?” he asked, the gleam in his eyes unmistakable, his tone dripping with playful mischief.

Oh, no—he wasn’t letting you get away so easily this time. Not when he finally had you exactly where he’d always dreamed. Because at the end of the day, Hyugo wasn’t just a snackaroo anymore.

He was the whole damn meal. I’m so damn corny

#the kid at the back hyugo #tkatb hyugo #hyugo sugimoto #hyugo x reader #tkatb smut #tkatb x reader #tkatb #tkatb vn #the kid at the back x reader #the kid at the back vn #the kid at the back smut #the kid at the back mc

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eraserbread · 4 months ago

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so, you fucking hate toji fushiguro.

its everything about him, his values don't align with yours, he's cruel, talks to you like you're nothing, and only calls and texts on his time.

oh, he's away on a job? you won't hear from him in days. he surely doesn't have the decency to drop off money or food to megumi and tsumiki before he leaves. he always shrugs it off, saying: "it's not my job to take care of the brats."

so, why, if you hate him so much, can you never, ever say no?

if you can't stand his selfish nature, why is he standing in your living room, back turned to you, hands pressed to his hips?

you drop the paper grocery bag in your hand, it shatters the quiet environment. toji's head turns over his shoulder.

"just got back from feeding your children, don't mind me." you bite, tone laced with exhaustion and annoyance.

all he can do is chuckle -- laugh right in your face. "c'mon. don't be mean t'me,"

"i hate you, toji. i hate that you always come back.” you fling your purse and keys onto the floor, feet grinding into the wood as you approach him.

he’s looking at you now. can’t hide that smirk on his face when the ritual begins again. “yeah? hate me harder next time. then, the kids won’t have anyone to give a damn about them when i’m gone.”

“take off your clothes.” you growl into his lips, kissing him like a parched desert cat. he was so fucking terrible and cruel, but your body craves him. you dream about him. the sexual chemistry is staggering. it’s why you love his megumi like your own — god knows he deserves it, too.

“but, mama i’m hungry too. you got a mind to share?”

“just - shut up and take them off.”

he’s actually obedient, taking the tie of his pants and pulling it loose. he never wears underwear, so the heavy, brazen sight of his cock, already half hard for you, is normal.

this venomous exchange is normal.

he fucks you while you’re spewing hatred towards him, bent over in the kitchen with your dress hiked at the waist. he has your face buried in the cool countertop with a hand to your throat. it’s hard to breathe, but you never want him to stop.

you want to feel his body inside yours, scrambling your insides to mush all the time. it’s a feeling you can’t live without — fiend over and beg for. toji’s just happy to get his dick wet and loves the way you curse at him.

“right there — yeah. arch your back like a fucking slut, mama. god, you drive me crazy.” his thick hand slaps down on your ass, parting your cheeks so he can see the way his cock enters you so passionately. he’s puppeteering you like this, his words the only string you need to bend and bow to his every desire.

you curse him when you cum, creaming hotly around him until there’s no more fight in your bones. the after- sex guilt hits like a ton of bricks even when he’s fucking you like a toy. now, his only mission is getting himself off.

but, he still wants you present.

“the fuck ‘r you thinking about?” he growls, lifting your head with a fistful of hair. his muscles flex as he tugs you up, twisting his fist to get a better grip.

“cause no one’s gonna fuck you like i can.”

#save me toji fushiguro #ultimate fine shyttt #jjk smut #jjk x reader #toji fushiguro #jjk toji #toji x reader #toji smut #fushiguro toji x reader #fushiguro toji smut #toji x you #toji zenin #toji x y/n

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thanksbutno98 · 5 months ago

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Kitchen Sink

John Price x wife!reader OC

Summary: John Price comes home from deployment excited to see his family, only there’s an unexpected guest.

Warnings: NSWF, sexual themes, swearing, violence, angst, domestic argument, comfort, not edited

——————

Relief. That’s what John felt every time he pulled up the long driveway after being gone overseas. Seeing that the lawn needed to be mowed, the chicken coop needed some patching up, or the list of work you had waiting for him was a reminder he was home. That life had carried on but not the same. It could never be the same without him and as much as that hurt in some moments, today, on the day he arrived home it didn’t. It meant his family needed him. That you needed him.

Stepping out of his old beat up truck John grabbed his worn military grade duffle bag and slung it over his shoulder. He took a moment to check his beard in the side view mirror of his car and practiced that charming smile he knew made you weak in the knees. It was good to be home and John was looking forward to your warm embrace and a home cooked meal.

Making his way inside John was greeted with an empty kitchen. At least he thought it was. Breathing deeply John took in the familiar scent of home. He could smell that you had baked something with blueberries, the lingering scent of your candles, and the lemon scented soap you liked. Everything looked the same to him. The kids shoes were in a pile by the back door instead of neatly put away. You had flowers from your garden in a vase on the kitchen table. But what caught John’s eye were the baked goods sitting out on the kitchen island waiting for him. There was a piece of construction paper next to the plate that read ‘Welcome Home!’ that was decorated by his three children.

“She must be on a run.” John spoke to himself.

Dropping his bag by the door and kicking off his boots John went straight for the blueberry muffins on the counter. He knew you made these special for him. You were always sweet like that, cooking and baking his favorite things his first day home. Rounding the island to grab a glass of milk John stopped in his tracks.

“Who the hell are you?” It came out a lot ruder than John knew you would appreciate; but he didn’t care.

There was a man in his home tucked under the kitchen sink. This stranger had half his torso under the sink and was clearly fiddling with something that needed fixing. From where John stood he could only see scuffed work boots, old jeans that were worn at the knees, and a grey long sleeve that rode up and revealed this mans stomach. Now, John wasn’t one to check out other men. But it was hard to miss this guys v-shaped waist, toned abdomen that somehow looked better than John’s, and the dark black hair that disappeared under this man’s tool belt.

Everything in front of John were the things you would make cheeky comments about if he were the man under the sink. How you would need to find a way to repay him and some more flirting. The memory of you sitting down in his lap the last time he fixed the sink playing in his head. Now, seeing someone else in the position he was meant to be had him prickling up. John was like a dog having his territory encroached on; ready to fight.

“Huh?” The man stopped what he was doing, the sound of his tools being placed on the tile feeling louder in John’s pulsing ears.

It took a second but soon the man was sliding out from under the kitchen sink and looking up at John with a confused expression.

Fuck.

The guy was good looking too. Wavy jet black hair and bright blue eyes, he was strikingly handsome. He had a beard just as thick as John’s and equally well maintained. His thick eyebrow quirked up at John seemingly confused on the interruption.

“Who the hell are you?” John reiterated coming off rude and irritable.

“You must be Y/N’s brother in law. She said you were stopping by.” This comment only infuriated John further but the man continued before John could lash out.

“I’m Tim. Moved in down the street a couple weeks ago. Y/N needed some help with a few things around the place since her husband’s away.” Tim didn’t bother standing to shake John’s hand. He simply ducked back under the sink and carried on.

“Is that so?” John spoke evenly, swallowing his anger.

This was infuriating. John was suppose to be the one under that sink fixing who knows what. It was he who needed to do this to get the praise you normally showered upon him for fixing the house. But now you had some other man doing it for you? A man who so casually had his abs on display. It also got under John’s skin how this guy assumed he was your brother in law not your actual husband. It made John’s mind wander to why that was the immediate assumption.

Little did John know that Tim thought this because you talked so highly of John. The way you spoke about your husband made most people think John was a friendly man. You didn’t do it on purpose, but you were so in love with John that the way you spoke about him didn’t always characterize him accurately. It was common for you to skip over his stoic demeanor and grumpy nature because he was only like that from time to time with you and the kids. You got the fun and playful side of John while others got his stoney and skeptical side. So, when John was rude just now Tim assumed this couldn’t be your husband because the man you spoke about would have to be perfectly friendly.

“What’s your brother like? She has him out to be this larger than life block. Seems to believe he can move heaven and earth.” The sardonic comments were followed with a playful laugh.

“I would move heaven and earth if she asked.” John spoke dryly.

There was a moment of silence as Tim stilled underneath the sink. It seemed to John that it was sinking in to this stranger who he was. Poking his head out for only a second Tim looked at John again. It wasn’t a look of embarrassment but more of genuine surprise. It seemed to catch Tim off guard John was in fact your husband.

“Oh, you’re the husband.” It was said matter of factly.

John was ready to yank this guy by the legs and throw him out the back door. Pushing up his sleeves to his elbows John was just about to do that until you walked into the room.

“John!” You squealed at the sight of him.

It had been three weeks since you last saw the man you loved most dearly. And here he was with that scowl you loved to kiss away and dressed so handsomely. John was in blue jeans, a white t-shirt with a brown flannel thrown over it, and those funny socks with avocados on them that Lily picked out as his birthday present this past year. His beard was overgrown and he needed a haircut but you loved when he looked all scruffy like this.

“Hello, darling.” Appearing before him was enough of a distraction John halted in his tracks.

Violence was never a knee jerk reaction when home, that part of John turned off almost instantly around your family. But with someone threatening John’s roll in the house had him feeling ready to throw a punch. It was partially due to having been deployed and having been involved in more hand to hand combat than usual.

You didn’t know it but you had saved John from catching an assault charge.

Throwing yourself into his arms you had completely forgotten you asked Tim to fix the sink. It felt amazing to feel John hold you and how the tension of his muscles seemed to melt with you in his arms. He smelled oaky with a twinge of musky sweat from the hot summer day.

“I missed you.” You whispered into his solid chest. But something felt different all of a sudden. John was tense again which was unlike him when he arrived home.

“You okay?” Pulling your head from John’s firm chest you gazed up at him lovingly. You thought maybe this last deployment was tougher than he let on when he called you yesterday.

Then you saw it. Those furrowed brows and cut eyes. It was the possessive stare you had become all to accustom to since before John was able to call you his and you called him yours. Following that violent stare you watched as it was stuck on Tim, your new neighbor.

In an instant your own eyes cut and you felt an annoyance take over. John hadn’t been home five minutes and you knew he was already picking a fight. He could be so territorial at times you knew he hated seeing another man in your home.

“Tim’s fixing the sink. I didn’t know when you’d be home today and the pipe was spraying water everywhere.” Going on the defense so John wouldn’t get riled up was your knee jerk reaction.

“Could’ve called me.” John grumbled and slipped away from you.

You weren’t sure if John was upset you asked someone else to fix something or if he was purely moody because he didn’t like having a stranger in the house. When John came home he usually liked staying away from all people besides you and your children. He took solace in the simplicity of family life and once he was feeling refreshed and like he made up for lost time John was back to being social.

“No need to explain yourself on my account.” Tim said as he gathered his things and shut the cabinet under the sink.

The remark had you wondering if you were explaining yourself too much. If you were, you hoped it didn’t come across as if you were hiding something. That wasn’t your intention what so ever. Little did you know that was exactly what your husband thought. It raised John’s hackles thinking you were being shady about having this stranger over and having him do something you normally declared made John sexy.

“Your wife was very kind and baked me and my son some lovely brownies when we moved in two weeks ago.” Tim was now standing with his tool kit in hand and a confident smile. John didn’t even like brownies but knowing this asshole got them instead of him only added to the building anger.

“I’m a handyman so if you ever need any help I’m only down the street.” Nodding his head Tim finally stuck out his hand for a proper introduction.

John shook it, his gaze staying stoic and calm. No part of John wanted this man to know he had gotten worked up at his presence; that would be a sign of weakness. And John had every intention of coming off collected with a strong marriage unable to be penetrated. It was more than the fact Tim was here doing John’s husbandly duties that made John frustrated yet act cordially. It was the fact he was a neighbor now and the last thing John needed was for your family to be seen as trouble in the neighborhood. Evelyn had done enough to make your reputation subpar since she usually got the other children into some form of trouble.

“I’m home now so we won’t be needing your help.” The curt response had your gaze burning a hole in the side of John’s head. So he followed it up with something kind so he wouldn’t have to hear how unfriendly he was from you later.

“But why don’t you and your wife stop by for drinks and food some time. Y/N here’s an excellent cook and I bet our kids would get along.” John sensed how you softened significantly at this kind gesture.

“Oh I know! Y/N had us over for dinner a few nights ago.” Tim gave you an approving look which John didn’t appreciate.

Now John was jealous wondering what you cooked for Tim. Did he sit in John’s seat at the table? Help you wash up after dinner like John always did? Maybe you played your music and danced around like you normally did while packing up leftovers.

You knew Tim was non the wiser but you could feel the tension radiating off John. He appeared perfectly normal, stoic, but normal.

“I’m a single dad though, so it’ll just be me and Ian stopping by.” With a charming smile Tim grabbed his toolbox ready to head out.

That was another red flag to John. A single dad sniffing around was most likely because he had become smitten with you. It wouldn’t have been the first time a single dad came after you with romantic intentions.

“Thank you so much Tim. Seriously stop by for that drink, the kids can play.” You smiled kindly and patted his broad shoulder, a way too friendly gesture in your husband’s eyes.

“Tonight?” Tim asked.

“Yeah! We’ll be grilling so bring your appetites.” You both shared friendly smiles.

Tim grabbed one of the muffins off the plate you had set out. He nodded with a grin as a way to thank you and made his way to the back door. John wanted to snatch the muffin back. Those were for him not this random person.

“I’ll shoot you a text before we head over.” Opening the back door Tim saw himself out.

As soon as the door shut John was picking a fight.

“Oh so you two text?” John was snarky as he asked.

There was a beat of silence as you both stared at each other.

“Is this really how you want to be right when you get home? We can fight if you want. Or you can drop the ‘She’s Mine’ act and fuck me upstairs.” You decided flirting with John would be the better move.

Not only would it show your desire for only John but he was worked up right now so you knew it would be rough possessive sex. He’d probably have you chanting who you belonged to by the end of it all.

There was another beat of silence.

“Well, get a move on we don’t have all day.” John motioned with his hand toward the stairs and smacked your ass.

You grinned wildly, turning and scurrying up to your room. You could feel John hot on your feels as he chased you up the stairs. To him this was a much better option than arguing first thing being home.

——————

“So he just invited himself over?” John asked with a mouthful.

You two were back in your kitchen after some much needed quality time together. Your skin still felt hot and your ass ached from the numerous smacks John’s calloused hands laid against it. That and how you expected to have bruises in the shape of his hipbones on the fatty flesh.

John was sat on one of the barstools at the kitchen island. He was on his second blueberry muffin and watching you as you made the pair of you lunch. As annoyed as he was about this man Tim, John was a little too distracted to care. After he got his frustration out upstairs, which you seemed to throughly enjoy, his eyes had been glued to you. John may have just gotten off but he had half a mind to drag you back upstairs. Those athletic shorts you were now wearing and his white t-shirt had him wanting you beneath him all over again.

“Not really. Him and Ian were exploring the woods and accidentally came into the yard. The kids were already playing while I weeded the garden and Evie asked if Ian wanted to play too. So Tim hung around for a bit and I invited them for dinner because he’s a really nice guy.” You explained the encounter from a few days prior.

Tim and Ian had accidently wandered into your yard as they explored the forest behind both your homes. Evelyn hollered for the boy her age to come help her and Jj lift up the tire John used to work out with. John had brought that monstrosity home from work one day claiming it was going to be a better workout than your at home gym in the basement could provide. When he was home you loved the ugly thing because you got to sit on the back patio and watch John flip it back and forth through the yard shirtless. When he was away the kids played on it and tried to flip it themselves. They still hadn’t been able to do it but were determined.

The large tire that weighed at least 300 pounds had become the topic of conversation between you and Tim. He had asked why you had it and once you explained your husband’s reasoning he agreed with John it was a better workout than lifting weights. Tim ended up being extremely nice and friendly and you wanted him to feel welcomed in the neighborhood. Some of the other parents could be snobs in your opinion and you liked making sure whenever anyone new moved in you welcomed them warmly. It didn’t mean you had to be friends but it was nice for others to know there was a friendly face in case they needed anything.

“Nice guy? You two friends?” It was obvious John wasn’t pleased by the turn of events in his absence but you could only roll your eyes.

“Not yet. His son is between Evie and Jj age and they get along great, so I suggest you quit it with not liking him all because he fixed our sink.” You sighed out in frustration and busied yourself with cooking before you started a fight with John.

“He assumed I was my brother. Any reason for that?” John asked a little too sharply.

“Yeah, he probably assumed you were nice and not some rude jerk.” You quipped.

You had John there so he chose not to respond.

“Here.” You placed John’s plate in front of him with a little too much force.

“Darling, I don’t like coming home to another man in my house, fixing my sink.” John tried to reason with you as if his foul mood was excusable.

“What was I suppose to do? Let the sink leak water all over the place? Don’t think you’d appreciate coming home to a flooded kitchen.” You threw your hands up now officially annoyed.

“You really going to be like this right when I get home? Or do you want to fuck me upstairs instead?” John used your own tactic against you, only he gave you a charming wink.

You both stared at each other for a moment.

“C’mon, we should be quick so the food doesn’t get cold.” You waved John toward the stairs as you exited to make your way back to your bedroom. Now it was your turn to take out your frustration.

——————

“Sooner or later we have to finish that conversation.” John was lying on his back, bare chest heaving as he caught his breath.

You were sprawled out next to him in a daze. Legs thrown over his and a sticky mess waiting to be cleaned on your stomach. The room felt stifling hot, the open windows allowing a refreshing summer breeze to cool you both off.

“What?” You asked having barely heard John.

You were still completely blissed out from having had your way with your bear of a man. Well, it was more him having his way with you only you told him exactly how you wanted him to take you. From the pace to position, John let you call the shots this round so you could get your own frustration out like you had so kindly done for him.

“Never mind. Do we need to go to the shop since we’re apparently grilling tonight?” John asked as he started to get out of bed, leaving you with a sweet kiss to your lips. Staying completely naked John walked to the bathroom and came back a moment later with a damp wash cloth.

“Yeah, was thinking we could do steaks and I’ll make whatever else you’re craving.” You were still catching your breath while you watched John clean you up. The warm cloth was rough against the skin of your stomach and inner thighs but you appreciated being taken care of.

“Mash and chips.” John grinned at the thought of getting double starch with a nice juicy steak.

“I can do that. But it’s Saturday so I’m also going to make spaghetti or Lily is going to lose her shit.” Finally starting to not feel so dazed you got up out of bed and started to get dressed along side your burly husband; who had a few hickies littering his torso.

“She’s still obsessed with spaghetti and meatballs? Was hoping she’d be over it by now.” John asked in disbelief.

Your whole family loved to eat there was no doubt about that. You and John were lucky Jj and Evelyn were never really picky eaters. They had some foods they didn’t like but they never truly gave you a hard time. Lily on the other hand would get fixated on specific foods for periods of time. John was hoping the spaghetti and meatball phase was over because he was absolutely sick of the dish.

You were sweet enough that every Saturday you let the family take turns picking Saturday’s dinner. Today was Lily’s turn to pick. All the other days were up to you or you had leftovers. For the last nine weeks in a row Lily had picked spaghetti and meatballs and everyone in the house was sick of it. Last time she did this was with rice pilaf and chicken so you made a large batch of it to give her at dinner each night. Only she decided that same day she hated rice pilaf so you and John had to eat it everyday for lunch so it wouldn’t go to waist.

“I’m starting to think there’s no end in sight.” You lightly complained.

“We can say no.” John tried to persuade you on this again.

“No we can’t. The deal is they can pick whatever as long as I can cook it in under an hour.” With a sigh you shimmied your jeans over your hips.

“Saying no isn’t going to kill them. You know that right?” John was now buckling his belt then reaching for his shirt on the floor.

“You know I was a kid who always heard no. You were the same. I don’t like doing that to the kids unless it’s truly an inconvenience.” John couldn’t deny how sweet you were to your kids.

“You keep spoiling them and they’ll turn rotten. Now let’s get going, they’re going to get dropped off in a couple of hours.” John tossed you your bra and then put on his socks.

“They’re already rotten to the core and I love it.” You joked with a cheeky smirk.

Your kids were far from rotten and you both knew it. You had the sweetest children who were all a bit misunderstood in their own ways which was what made them each so endearing.

The both of you finished getting dressed and then headed downstairs. You ate your cold lunch rather quickly and then climbed into John’s truck. Instead of actually talking about what you and John had been trying not to fight about you two ignored the conflict. Instead you chatted about how the kids had been, your work, John’s deployment, and your favorite, the holiday you two were planning.

This continued at the grocery store where you picked up everything you needed for dinner and the rest of the week. John then spent the ride home going on a tangent about grocery prices. Telling you how much cheaper things were a few years ago.

“Did we really need all this?” John grumbled as you two unpacked.

“Don’t start.” Chuckling you swatted John’s ass which had the sour mood washing off of him.

The two of you continued with your tasks. You prepped everything for dinner while John seasoned the steaks then checked over the sink. You had to step over him as you cooked and he laid on his back under the kitchen sink. John continuously made snarky comments about the ‘poor work’ Tim did. Claiming Tim had to be a ‘shit handyman’ because your sink was still leaking slightly. You weren’t sure if John was telling the truth or simply banging his tools around for show.

Soon enough you both heard screams of laughter as your children ran up the driveway. They had spent the day with their cousins and had just been dropped off. It was common your kids were dropped off at the end of the driveway unless it was your dad dropping them off. He always stopped in to say hello.

“DADDY!” Evelyn busted through the back door and ran full speed at John.

She ran into him with so much force John had to take a step back. Jj was not far behind as he too hugged John around the middle. Lily stood in the doorway looking all cute and bashful.

“Missed you two.” Bending down John took each one under an arm and picked them up so they were now upside down.

Jj was laughing so hard he was snorting while Evelyn was screeching with laughter like crazy.

“Spin! Spin!” Your two oldest hollered and John did just that.

You watched your husband swing Evelyn and Jj around, a chorus of laughter filling your home once again. You had happy kids there was no doubting that. The soundtrack of this house was giggles and joyous screams. But nothing compared to the laughter your husband brought each one of your children. It was absent while he was away and he brought a warmth into your home that was undeniable.

Once Jj and Evelyn were dizzy John flipped them back over and placed them on their feet. Jj stumbled to the ground laughing so hard he was barely making noise. Evelyn was wobbling around trying to find her balance while giggling. Stepping over Jj, John stuck out his arms for soft and sweet Lily who hated rough housing. Gently John took the four year old into his arms so they were nose to nose.

“Missed you peanut.” John spoke softly watching as the bashful look Lily wore turned into a giant smile that rivaled yours.

“Hi, daddy.” Lily whispered before wrapping her arms around John’s neck.

“Your mums making spaghetti for you.” Lily kicked her feet hearing John talk.

“Wait!” Lily pulled her head away from Johns shoulder.

You were just pouring the box of pasta into the boiling water. Lily had her hand stuck out having you halt your action of stirring the water.

“I want dippy eggs.” Lily informed you.

You and John both stared at her straight faced. The pair of you weren’t sure if you were happy she finally picked a new food or frustrated she waited until now to tell you.

“I already started the spaghetti.” Trying to reason with Lily she shook her head adamantly ‘no.’

“Mummy you never asked what I wanted. And I want dippy eggs.” Crossing her arms Lily pouted at you with a mean look.

“I- well yeah. I guess I assumed you wanted spaghetti.” Looking at the sauce you had on the stove with the meatballs cooking in it and then back to the pasta cooking you sighed. This is what you got for assuming and not asking Lily this morning.

“Well, we have lunch for the week, John.” You stirred the pot while John looked up to the ceiling with a sigh. He was truly starting to hate spaghetti and meatballs.

“Don’t be cross with me!” Lily shrieked in John’s face.

“We’re not.” Trying to comfort the sniffling four year old John and you shared an amused look at the dramatics.

“Okay you two go play outside. Ian and his dad are coming over soon for dinner.” You motioned for your two oldest to get a move on.

“Woohoo!” Evelyn threw her arms in the air, stumbling slightly from being dizzy.

“Ian’s so much fun.” Jj was finally catching his breath and then sprinting out the back door with Evelyn behind him.

“Lily c’mon! Help us flip the tire!” Jj called for his youngest sister who was quickly pushing herself out of John’s arms.

“They wanna play with me, I gotta go daddy.” Lily said seriously when John wouldn’t let her go.

“You don’t wanna spend time with me?” It sounded like John was teasing but you knew he wanted more attention from his children than this quick hello.

“Daddy.” Lily wriggled until John let her go. She walked towards the back door then stopped and looked at John with the utmost seriousness.

“Jj and Evie only play with me sometimes. I have to go. Cuddles later.” Turning around Lily hoped off the stair on to the patio and cautiously jogged toward her siblings who were in the middle of the yard.

“She’s so fucking cute I could die.” You squealed.

“Couldn’t agree more.” John’s smile was soft as he watched his children get along so well.

“Dippy eggs for dinner. . . She’ll be starving by bed time.” John told you with a chuckle.

“She’ll eat four eggs and three pieces of toast.” You were now pulling out the ingredients needed for your daughters newest dinner choice. You noticed you only had two eggs left from having baked this morning.

“Four eggs!?” John was astounded by Lily’s large appetite. He ate four eggs in the morning, it was crazy to him his child could eat that much.

“Yep! Would you go grab more from the coop we’re already running low.” Taking out another pot you got to cooking.

“We’re about to go through so many eggs. Hope the gals can keep up.” John sighed as he grabbed his work gloves, slid on his boots, grabbed the basket normally used for this task, and went to go get more eggs.

Walking over to the chicken coop John stopped to see his children trying to flip the 300 pound tire. They were strategizing how they could do it. John flipped it a couple times and his three children hollered in excitement which was a huge boost to Johns ego. Soon enough you were yelling from the back door for him to stop goofing around and go grab those eggs.

Part of you felt bad for disturbing the fun. But you knew if dinner wasn’t on time for Lily she would have a meltdown. She could be exactly like John when hungry and that meant she was an absolute monster. Thankfully, John was an adult so he didn’t freak out but he was horrible to be around when particularly hungry. It had you wondering if that’s why he had the reputation of being as asshole at work. Maybe he was just always hungry while deployed and he took it out on everyone around him.

John made his way to the coop he had built over a decade ago. It needed some work from how weathered it had become. It was a small wooden structure painted a garnet red to match your home. The slatted roof had moss growing atop it hiding the numerous patch jobs John had done. It was about the size of a small shed with a door for John to enter on the right side and a small hatch in the front with a ramp for the hens to get out from.

There was a fence around the coop that came up to John’s ribcage. The fence was a two rail estate fence with wood so old it had turned grey. Moss stuck to the wood and grew around the chicken wiring used to wrap around the posts and keep the hens inside.

“Hey there Nancy.” John said in a chipper voice that most would find strange with his gravely voice and rugged demeanor.

He was currently squatted down in the small coop ready to go through the nesting boxes. John had thrown feed out for the hens and the other four had gone to eat but Nancy had stayed back; firmly sat atop her nest in the back corner. Nancy and John had a love hate relationship. She was a pain in his ass but he respected her ferocity.

Nancy was a syrupy brown hen with ivory tail feathers and a cherry red comb. She was ‘pretty’ as John liked to say. Her eyes were dark and looked like daggers when anyone but you came near.

John started by first clearing out the unoccupied nest boxes. Slowly he made his way over to Nancy who hadn’t stopped staring at him the entire time he was there. John maintained eye contact as he slowly made his way over. One second to the next he was in a staring contest and then the he was being charged at. Nancy took off from her nest ready to fight and feathers flying. Swiftly John moved past her and grabbed the two eggs she was protecting. In quick succession his hands were violently pecked and then he was taking off out of the chicken coop.

Running out of the small structure Nancy was right behind clucking loudly. In his haste John saw out of the corner of his eye a small crowd had formed a few yards away from the chicken coop. Dodging the other hens who were enjoying their snack they squawked in surprise as John dashed by. A few feathers flew in the air as John hurtled over the wired fence with the basket of eggs cradled under his arm.

“Wicked!” A young boys voice boomed through the open air.

“See! I told you my dad’s cool!” Evelyn’s voice quickly followed.

Looking back at the pen John could see Nancy eyeing him, her little head bobbing to look at him from different angles. After a quick check of the basket John saw all the eggs were in tact and now he could bring them back to you. He would have to be doing this twice a day now instead of the once with Lily’s new request for dippy eggs. Hell, maybe he’d have to buy another chicken.

“Dad, this is Ian.” Jj motioned with his head.

Jj was hoping into the chicken pen to throw some more feed since it was his turn to tend to them. When John was home the chickens were his responsibility. But when deployed Jj and Evelyn did mostly everything besides collect the eggs. John didn’t understand why but Nancy never attacked you so you were the one to gather the eggs each evening in his absence. You liked to say it was because of the respect between mothers which always had John chuckling.

John realized Lily wasn’t with the group of 10-12 year olds. Taking in the yard John saw his youngest daughter sitting on the tire on the opposite side of the yard. Her head was hung low and she was kicking her feet making them bounce slight against the rubber.

“Can I feed them!?” Ian was about to climb over the fence but Evelyn was quick to grab his shirt tail.

“Sorry Ian, but I don’t want Nancy to go after you.” John gave the boy a kind smile.

Ian was tall for his age and looked like an athletic little boy. He had cropped blonde hair that accentuated his heart shaped face and green eyes. There was a scab on his chin and more on both knees. For such a rough and tumble looking kid he had a natural gentleness about him that John couldn’t quite place.

“How’d you do that?” John pointed to the young boys chin.

A huge smile spread across the little boys face showing off how his canine tooth had fallen out.

“Evie and I were playing chicken on our bikes and we ran into each other so hard I fell off!” The story was shared with a bright laugh that infected both of John’s children.

John looked over to Evie who had matching skinned knees. But that was nothing new. Evelyn was a tough little girl and tended to have scraped elbows and knees, dirty feet from running around outside, and some new stain for you to get out of her clothes.

“And your dad wasn’t upset?” John followed up.

Some of the parents in the neighborhood weren’t Evelyn’s biggest fans. She tended to get into trouble by climbing up something, standing on her handle bars while she rode her bike, or playing in the dirt and getting all muddy. John knew other parents thought she was a bad influence but he saw his little girl as one who just wanted to have fun. She was a child and she acted like it so John didn’t see any harm. Jj was the same way besides the climbing and he was never classified as trouble. It was an unfortunate caveat of being a girl so John tried to teach her to be safe and have some common sense but never dimmed her flame.

“You kidding!? Dad thinks Evie’s brilliant!” Ian’s response had John chuckling with appreciation. It was nice to hear his daughter’s qualities were admired.

“SHIT!” Jj ran for the fence right behind John and frantically climbed over it. Falling to the ground face first John cringed watching how the 12 year olds body twisted awkwardly as Jj fell hard.

“Why’s Nancy such a jerk?” Dusting himself off Jj was getting back to his feet seemingly unphased by the fall.

Jj now had dirt smeared across his right cheek and his hair was a mess. Nancy was clucking loudly trying to square up to the young boy through the fence. Turning around Jj rolled his eyes and walked back over to John.

“She’s territorial. You wouldn’t want someone rooting around your home.” Maybe John and Nancy had something in common. John’s words seemed to bring some perspective to the children because they all immediately burst into conversation about the chickens.

Ruffling Jj’s hair and telling them not to get into trouble John made his way over to Lily to check on her. As he got closer John could hear tiny sniffles and watched as Lily wiped her nose with the sleeve of her shirt. Lily was turned looking into the forest so she didn’t see John coming up behind her.

“You okay peanut?” John’s voice seemed to startle the four year old who slightly jumped.

“I’m fine daddy.” Wiping her eyes quickly Lily tried to pretend like she hadn’t been crying.

“What’s the matter?” John squatted in front of his little girl who looked so much like him. Taking his gloves off John cupped Lily’s round cheeks in his palms and wiped the tears away with his thumbs.

“I wanted to play pretend but Jj said that’s a baby game. So I asked Evie if she’d play with me but she just laughed at me and called me a baby.” The sniffling picked up again as Lily’s lip wobbled.

“Do you want to come spend time with me and your mum?” John’s question had Lily shaking her head in confirmation, and then she was crying and reaching for him.

With a melancholy smile John scooped up his little girl who wrapped herself around him. Rubbing her back soothingly John told her all about how his big brothers could be ‘big meanies’ when he was little like her. John had captivated her when he admitted to crying like she did when they wouldn’t play with him. How he would beg for them to play with him and how they picked on him. By the time John had made it back to the house Lily was giggling and running in front of him with her mood completely turned around.

Before he entered the house John could see you and Tim chatting in the kitchen through the large window. It annoyed John at times at how friendly you could be. It wasn’t a bad quality but sometimes he wanted you to keep to yourself so he didn’t have to be around people. But his grievances never stopped you from becoming acquainted with the entire neighborhood. Claiming you wanted to know who your kids were hanging around and their parents just in case.

“Did you ask the others if they wanted dippy eggs?” You asked seeing John with the basket of eggs.

“Ian can have dippy eggs but the other two can’t.” John ruffled Lily’s hair watching as him sticking up for her had her smile lighting up the entire house.

“What’d they do?” You asked with a chuckle.

“They’re big meanies like daddy’s big brothers were.” Lily explained as if everyone would know what she was talking about.

“They’re excluding her again. Calling her a ‘b-a-b-y’” John spoke more hushed so Lily wouldn’t hear and took the extra measure to spell out baby so she wouldn’t get sad again.

“We gotta do something about that.” You said back.

Jj and Evie weren’t bad kids and they certainly didn’t dislike their sister. The age gap got in the way a lot of the time and Lily was constantly searching for a playmate in her older siblings. They entertained her more than you thought they originally would but being six years younger than Evelyn and eight years younger than Jj made it hard for Lily to keep up. That and she didn’t like getting dirty or rough housing like her siblings. The parameters Lily needed to play and the age gap frustrated Jj and Evelyn and you saw it caused them to be snarky to their sensitive little sister.

“Your brothers exclude you a lot?” Tim asked trying to have a conversation with John since the last one didn’t go too well.

“No.” John spoke curtly.

“Yes they did.” You and Lily corrected John at the same time.

“You just said, you just said, Uncle Harrison use to make you cry cuz he’d tell you to meet him outside to play then he’d lock you out of the house.” Lily had her finger pointed at John and mouth hung agape at his lying.

“And Uncle Grayson made you cry so hard you wet yo-“ Before Lily could finish John gently clamped his hand over her mouth. Her sapphire eyes went wide now being nose to nose with her father.

“I think that’s enough sharing. How about we don’t tell people those things.” John was thoroughly embarrassed that what he just shared with Lily outside to cheer her up was now being broadcasted. Kissing her forehead John took his hand back and motioned for her to run along.

“Big military guy like you wet his pants from crying.” Tim couldn’t help but laugh at the story your daughter chose to share.

You were mortified for John. That was not something he normally shared or you thought he’d ever admit to. You admired he told your daughter this to cheer her up, but now it was backfiring in his face.

“He was a little kid.” You gave Tim a sharp look for laughing but that didn’t seem to deter him.

“Trust me I’ve done worse.” Tim was still chuckling.

John didn’t respond. He simply grabbed a crystal glass from the cabinet and poured himself a glass of whiskey. The eggs he had put on the counter were soon washed and put to use. You and Tim continued to chat about your kids. John found out that Tim’s wife had passed away a few years ago leaving him a single dad with no intention on dating. This put John’s mind at ease that he wasn’t hanging around for your attention. Tim went as far to say that he felt blessed Ian was the exactly like his mother in looks and spirit.

You were a magician at getting people to open up. John could never wrap his head around how you did it so flawlessly. It was probably because you genuinely cared. If John were honest he used some of your tactics at work when doing interrogations. And if they didn’t work he was fine resorting to violence but he wouldn’t admit either of these things to you.

Learning that Tim had lost his wife had John lightening up quite a bit. It had him wondering what he would be like if he ever lost you. Tim mentioned how he felt like a bumbling fool since the day he lost her. That making friends and keeping Ian involved with his peers was a lot harder than he realized. His wife had been so good at doing the social aspect of parenting it never occurred to Tim what a skill it was.

“Dad! You gotta come lift the tire for us.” Ian was at your back door bouncing up and down.

“Okay, okay. I’m coming.” Tim was playful as he followed after his son.

This left you and John alone in the kitchen since Lily had pulled out her dolls in the living room.

“I don’t like him.” John all but blurted out when there was privacy.

“Jesus, John. Is this still about the sink?” Turning a little too quickly you knocked over your wine glass causing it to spill across the kitchen island. You let out a frustrated groan as you went to clean up the mess.

“You inviting him over cuz he’s good looking?” Instead of beating around the bush John got straight to the point. He handed you a few paper towels that you snatched from him in frustration.

“What?” You could only blink at John utterly perplexed and taken aback by the question.

“Look, I get that I’m gone too often. And it might be nice to have someone handsome fixing the house up in my absence. I just want you to be honest about it.” John did his best to not show his annoyance at what he was suspicious of.

“I mean Tim’s good looking I can’t lie about that. But am I having him over to gawk at? Absolutely not. I just needed the sink fixed.” Exasperated, that’s the only way you were able to describe what you felt. You had to take a step away and wipe up the spill because now you were offended on top of annoyed.

“So having him take my place at dinner, baking for him, and fixing things wasn’t you getting the attention I wasn’t able to give you?” John asked now starting to feel a bit apprehensive at his approach. He could see by your posture that you were tense from how angry you were getting.

“Okay, first off, I bake for everyone. You know that. It’s the whole reason we got chickens in the first place.” You waved your hands in the general direction of the chicken coop.

“Second, I’ve got plenty of home movies you’ve starred in to keep myself occupied if I need something to look at. I don’t need some stranger over for dinner or fixing the house so I can have more attention.” You placed your hands on your hips and stared at John who matched your unwavering gaze.

“Daddy’s in a movie?” Lily’s voice joined the conversation.

“Oi, stop eaves dropping.” John shooed Lily out of the room and she quickly scurried back to the living room.

“I just don’t see why you’re being so friendly if you haven’t got a bit of a crush.” Turning back around John regretted the question because of the look on your face. You felt insulted and John could see that by your slightly open mouth and furrowed brows.

“Crush? Did you ever think that maybe I just want to be friends with him because he’s nice? That he’ll be able to help me if the house falls apart while you’re gone. You know I paid him for his help, it’s not like he was here because I batted my eyes and asked all sweetly.” You said waving your hands around all animated.

“That’s the only reason?” John pushed knowing you too well. He knew there was something more but couldn’t put his finger on what it was.

“Okay fine, maybe I can relate to his son because I lost my mum when I was around the same age? Tim asked for some advice and it felt good helping out because I know what it’s like.” You hissed, not wanting to talk about this. It was a sensitive topic to you and not one you felt like hashing out right now.

There it was, the real reason John had been searching for.

“Oh.” John stared at you, who was now fuming mad. It hadn’t occurred to him he was being insensitive but how would he know without you telling him.

“Yeah. ‘Oh.’” Rolling your eyes you tried to busy yourself at the kitchen sink.

“Don’t be cross with me. If I knew that was the reason I wouldn’t have been so harsh.” John’s hardened expression softened greatly. His eyes were locked on you lovingly now having a much gentler side of him coming out.

“Hard to when you think so poorly of me.” You had turned your back to John and busied yourself with invisible dishes. It was one plate that you kept washing over and over.

“I could never think poorly of you.” John had manifested behind you and whispered into your ear.

“Yeah? You think I’d have some guy over to gawk at and have lewd intentions for.” You grumbled, scrubbing away.

John slowly reached around you, his chest lightly pressing against your back. Turning off the faucet his rough fingers slipped the plate from your hands and placed it back into the sink. John’s warmth was radiating off of him as his strong arms wrapped around you and hugged you to his burly chest. Burying his face in the crook of your neck he lightly nuzzled his beard against the exposed skin and left feather light kisses in his wake. Each one was placed with love while his thumb gently ran across your wrist.

“I’m being an ass aren’t I? Get worked up because of how pretty you are.” John’s gravely voice was hot against your ear.

“I know other men see it too.” John’s sultry words had your breath hitching. His body was pressing against you a bit more and strong arms holding you firmly.

“You haven’t done anything wrong, I forget how kind you are. I get so use to the cruelty of work and think that you could be that way when it’s so far from the truth.” John laid open mouth kiss after kiss up and down your neck. It made your hair stand on end. Your shoulders relaxed and you melted into his hold.

“You are being an ass.” You playfully teased. Breathy words and the tiniest moan leaving your parted lips. You had your head tilted back and resting on John’s shoulder as he continued to kiss your neck.

“I’ll play nice. After how you bounced in my lap earlier I know I’m the only one for you.” John purred in your ear sending a shock wave through your body that had your thighs pressing together.

John was right that he was the only one for you. And after babbling like a slag in his lap about how much you missed every part of him, John knew you were just as addicted to him as he was to you. His jealousy was misplaced and he was ready to apologize in every way you craved. It seemed each others bodies were the answer to all your problems today.

“If you ever accuse me of having eyes for someone else I’ll stop putting out.” You threatened John. You didn’t mean it, you knew he was the most insecure when just getting home from deployment.

It was a sad flaw that he thought you would get lonely in his absence and would seek companionship outside of your marriage. He knew it wasn’t true, that you would never do that to him. But that didn’t stop the insecurity getting out of hand sometimes; like it had today.

“Now, now, Darling. We can’t have that.” John’s flirting was driving you mad. You wanted to drag him upstairs and make him apologize for being a jerk in the most sinful ways.

“Ew! Do you two have to be so gross?” Jj voice came from the back door.

All the young boy could see was his father hugging you from behind. It looked completely innocent from his angle but Jj still hated it. Both him and Evelyn gave you and John trouble whenever you two were a little too affectionate in front of them. Whether that be a sweet kiss as you said goodbye or were slow dancing in the kitchen and they walked in.

“Ian’s dad can’t flip the tire and says it’s not possible. You gotta show him how it’s done dad.” Jj motioned with his thumb over his shoulder for John to come outside.

You and John shared a playful look.

“See, no way I could find that guy attractive. He can’t even flip that god awful tire.” You flirted with your husband, feeling his ego grow so large it was taking up most of the room.

“Speaking of. You should workout tomorrow with that thing. Shirtless.” You purred as John chuckled from deep in his chest.

“Treating me like a piece of meat. . . I love it.” And with that said, John kissed you on the cheek and peeled himself off of you to go show off just how strong he was.

~~~~~tag list~~~~~

@exhaustedpotat0 @glitterypirateduck @ivymarquis @crazymela @what-0-life @boredfairy4 @hihhasotherfixations @stephanswhxre @shanjisan @k4es @luvleywrites @kita03-0 @midwesternwitchery @aleynaleia @suckerforbassist @misshoneypaper @theaonlax @blackstar9005 @tooterbutt @havoc973 @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @freshlemontea @cosmoscoffeee @sae1kie @ohworm-writes @ghostslittlegf @fanficwriterlover @arminarlertssword @faceache111 @azu21 @thirstyb-ches @nini-11-08 @sgtgarricks @kiki-is-hyperfixating @mayflysdie

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spookyserenades · 1 year ago

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Trouvaille - Chapter Sixteen (M)

Pairing(s); BTS OT7 x Reader

Genre/Themes; Hybrid!AU, themes of the supernatural and the occult, religious themes, violence, hurt/comfort, horror, romance

Rated; 18+ for swearing, violence/gore, future sexual themes. Reader discretion is advised.

Word Count; 20.5k

Trouvaille Masterlist

Trouvaille playlist

Updates on the 7th of each month

Heyyyy besties LOL! Prepare yourselves! This chapter is definitely my spiciest yet, so hold onto your seats (and don't look at me LOL I'm Seokjin thirsty). Besides that, though, we have domestic moments, and GHOSTBUSTING WOO HOO! I hope you all enjoy this and don't hate me for being thirsty. Love to hear your thoughts and thank you for reading!

As an additional warning/reminder, for the smut: the scene is explicit, and is only intended to be read by those over the age of 18. Please practice safe sex, and readers please have discretion!

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Suddenly, all of the sounds of the city faded into oblivion. Cars rushing by passed in colored blurs, romantic music flooding out from restaurants filled with couples celebrating Valentine’s Day dimmed to a hum, and all Y/N could focus on, or even register, were the clumps of powdery snow beginning to gather on Seokjin’s long, straight lashes. His fiery eyes were shifting back and forth, assessing the expression on her face, his sleek black tail curling self-consciously around his waist. Y/N’s brain was scrambling for any kind of coherent response, Seokjin’s grip on her hands going slack once the seconds stretched on.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything,” Seokjin whispered sadly, to himself. It was that statement that had Y/N snapping out of her state of shock.

“Jin–” Y/N exclaimed, but Seokjin had let her go, turning slightly and trudging away, his hand tightening around the handles of the shopping bag. “Wait, honey!”

“We should head back to the car, it’s getting cold with the snow,” Seokjin’s voice sounded thick, like his throat was closing up, making Y/N hiss and lurch forward, catching him by his felt coat. Promptly, he halted, though he wouldn’t turn around to face her.

“Actually, we should talk,” Y/N managed, pulling Seokjin along desperately, yanking him up the stairs of the church they were in front of and pushing the two of them inside the warm building.

The place was lit up, but mercifully empty, and Y/N assumed the priests were in the back of the building, a separate room, where they kept vestments– Jeongguk had been telling her about various aspects of Christianity and the architecture of churches during their hours of reviewing tapes for the Sanders’ case with Namjoon. Huffing, she towed her jaguar hybrid to the enclosed room at the front of the church’s entrance, the one with a window facing altar; the space was intended for parents with crying children to sit in so as not to disturb Mass. Y/N thought it was as good of a place as any to have a private conversation without freezing their asses off in the snow.

“W-why are we here?” Seokjin still wouldn’t turn his face to hers, instead choosing to studiously stare out the window, fixing his eyes on the elaborate wooden pulpit.

“Seokjin, look at me,” Y/N requested gently, tugging the fabric of his coat lightly to encourage him.

Stiffening, Seokjin swallowed, his ears still pressed flat against his wavy head of black hair, chewing on his lip as he finally looked her in the eyes once more. Heart clenching seeing the aching vulnerability on his face, she took the bag of their purchases from Eataly from his hand, placing it on one of the chairs behind them.

“You don’t have to let me down gently, Y/N…” Seokjin uttered quietly, and despite herself, Y/N was rolling her eyes while her back was to him.

“Seokjin, will you just hear me out for a few minutes?” Y/N replied, trying to compose herself despite the way she was nearly ready to pounce on Seokjin. “Don’t shut down on me like that.”

Seokjin remained quiet, his throat bobbing when she faced him again, Y/N sighing and wondering how the hell to explain to him her feelings, not only for him, but for the rest of his housemates. It had her head swimming, and the strong scent of church incense wasn’t helping.

“You… said you loved me?” Y/N wanted to confirm, Seokjin’s neck turning an even deeper shade of red, but he nodded slightly nonetheless. His tail was still curled around his waist.

“Ever since my birthday. Probably even before then,” Seokjin admitted, Y/N’s heart beginning to race in her chest, one of Seokjin’s ears fluttering at the sound.

“Oh,” Y/N squeaked, watching Seokjin trying to not look crestfallen.

“I had to tell you. I couldn’t keep it hidden any longer, especially after tonight,” Seokjin continued, one of his hands coming up to rub at his bicep. “Even though… you and Yoongi.”

Time stopped, space ceased to exist. All that mattered to her in those seconds was Seokjin, and his undiluted earnesty was palpable. Nothing could stop Y/N from opening her mouth impulsively, at that point.

“I think I fell in love with you on Halloween,” Y/N blurted loudly, Seokjin’s jaw dropping open in pure shock, her voice echoing in the empty room and emphasizing the ferociousness in her tone. “Seeing you with the kids, handing out candy. Or maybe it was that night you held me after Tae and Joon’s fight.”

“What?” Seokjin breathed, a combination of elation and confusion taking over his expression.

“I fell in love with Yoongi when he offered to teach me piano,” Y/N couldn’t help the word vomit pouring from her mouth, figuring if anything, she could confess all of her feelings to Seokjin, and maybe he’d get where she was coming from. “Jeongguk and Joon when they helped me with the spirit, that day outside when we did the cleansing ritual, I knew I loved them. I fell for Hoseok when I realized he was the glue holding us together.”

Understanding dawned on Seokjin as she spilled her guts to him, but all he did was reach for her hands, a tender look in his eyes so sweet Y/N nearly began to weep. Honestly, she could have been weeping, but she couldn’t stop her speech as Seokjin held her.

“Seeing Jimin wear his expressions so earnestly, innocently, and Taehyung’s trust in me, his love for our home…” Y/N shuddered when Seokjin pulled her in for a hug, her face pressed against the front of his coat, and palms stroking up and down her back to soothe. “I’m in love with you all, I can’t help it, but I do. I love you, Seokjin, so, so much.”

Seokjin didn’t reply, but his chest began to vibrate with purrs, simply holding her as Y/N took a few moments to breathe, initially not coming to the conclusion that saying all of that out loud would end up being such an emotional release for her. Physically, she felt lighter once she admitted all of that to Seokjin, but she was nervous about how he was taking the news that she had feelings for 6 others.

“You really love me? You mean it?” Seokjin broke the silence, his hands shaking as he pushed lightly on her shoulders so he could look at her face, his ears finally perked up after being pressed flat to his head for so long.

Grasping one of his wrists, Y/N maintained eye-contact as she pressed his palm over her heart, no doubt beating rapidly even underneath her thick coat. A small exhale came from Seokjin, Y/N craning her head upwards to scan his face, not wanting to keep him in the lurch any longer.

“Of course I mean it,” Y/N whispered, her free hand curling in the material of his coat, feeling tears gather along her lash line. “You have my heart.”

Seokjin chuckled, the sound watery, and Y/N felt his hands still trembling as they moved to cup her face, thumbs tracing over her cheekbones with reverence. She shivered, sliding her hands up his chest to rest over his heart, beating wildly, drowning in the scent of his eucalyptus body wash.

“I–” Seokjin swallowed, his own eyes shining with unshed tears. “Can I kiss you?”

Heart stopping altogether, her eyelids fluttered as she felt his shaky hands still cradling her face, so gently she could hardly feel the touch.

“Yes,” Y/N replied eagerly, her voice barely coming out at all, transfixed by the way Seokjin looked at her with complete adoration. “Please.”

Slowly, like time had been suspended, she watched Seokjin duck his head, his eyelids growing heavy as he nudged the tip of his nose against hers, Y/N unable to shut her eyes as his beautiful face neared closer than ever. Sucking in a tiny breath, she melted against his broad chest, fingers sliding into the close-cropped hair at the nape of his neck. When Seokjin’s eyes closed, she kept hers open a fraction, only for stars to explode in her vision once his voluminous lips landed on hers.

Immediately making a noise of delight, Y/N sank into Seokjin, not caring that they were in public, or a church, for that matter. The press of his mouth was impossibly sweet, loving, Y/N nearly groaning as his lower lip slipped against the seam of her mouth. While the kiss was chaste, Seokjin’s thumbs still tenderly caressing her cheekbones, it had her insides igniting, angling her head so Seokjin could work his mouth against hers more deeply. Her lungs were burning for oxygen all too soon, Y/N refusing to break the lock of their lips, but unfortunately, her jaguar hybrid sensed her need to breathe, and his perfect lips slid from hers sensually.

Before she could speak, her hands still in his hair, Seokjin began stamping kisses all over her face, like he had the last time he scented her. The purrs coming from his chest grew in volume when she sighed in bliss, Seokjin’s hands moving to cup her neck while he brushed a kiss over her jaw bone.

“I love you, I love you…” Seokjin breathed, his warm breath washing over the side of her neck, Y/N nearly passing out in his strong arms. “My Y/N. My pretty girl, I love you…”

“S-seokjin. Mmm,” Y/N attempted to speak, though the distraction of him mouthing over the slope of her throat was overwhelming. “You, uh? Know– that I, um. Love the others, too? Does it bother you?”

Seokjin paused, pressing one last kiss underneath her earlobe, his arms wrapping around her waist securely. His warmth consumed her, and the way he held her felt like she was being cherished– her own arms wound around his wide shoulders in retribution.

“There’s nothing you could do or say that would change how I feel,” Seokjin said firmly, Y/N shivering at the finality in his tone. “I just… I didn’t think you loved me the way I love you. I had hope when we had lunch with Hannah, but…”

“Yoongi,” Y/N finished for him, nuzzling her face into his chest.

“Does he?” Seokjin probed cautiously, running his hands through her hair, seemingly not able to get enough of touching her so freely.

“Know? Yeah,” Y/N blushed, the whole situation so complicated, she hardly knew how it came to be in the first place. “He knows I love you. All of you.”

Seokjin rested his chin on the top of her head, humming contentedly as he held her. All she wanted in that moment was to remain in his embrace, soaking in his comforting presence, but all too soon he was drawing away, his eyes sparkling and lips a tad swollen from their kiss.

“I think we should head home. We scandalized the priests,” Seokjin nodded to the window, Y/N’s face on fire when she realized indeed, two young priests were gawking at them from behind the glass, and both of them hurriedly returned to arranging pamphlets in the pews.

With that, her and Seokjin giggling the entire way, they left the church, Y/N waving apologetically to the priests while Seokjin grabbed onto her free hand. Y/N didn’t have time to think about what would happen when they got home, but because she swore to herself that she wouldn’t hide information from the others anymore, she wasn’t about to sneak around with Seokjin like she had with Yoongi.

Outside, it was still snowing, but tucked closely into Seokjin’s side, she hardly felt the cold. His arm was around her waist, hand entwined with hers, tucked into her coat pocket. The walk back to the parking garage wasn’t long, but it took twenty minutes– Seokjin stopping occasionally for a kiss amongst the snow storm, his lips melting against hers.

“Got the bag?” Y/N jumped out of the car, glancing at their lit-up house in front of her, chewing her lip nervously.

It wasn’t too late in the evening, so Y/N knew that everyone was probably still up, snacking on their Valentine candy and watching TV, perhaps. Namjoon’s van wasn’t running, surprisingly, so neither he nor Jeongguk were hanging out in there. Seokjin appeared from around the car, the bag of ingredients and recipes in hand, a sweet smile stretched across his face.

Someone flicked on the porch light, most likely Namjoon, who kept quite the canine watch over the front door, especially at night. Clearing her throat, she gestured for Seokjin to head up the porch steps, following closely behind and praying the wolf hybrid wouldn’t immediately sniff out that her and Seokjin’s relationship dynamic had shifted significantly. The jaguar hybrid opened the front door, letting Y/N in first, locking up behind her promptly– if he didn’t, Namjoon would have had a stroke seeing the deadbolt pulled back.

The house was toasty, and judging by the scent, Yoongi had made his popular roasted chicken for dinner for everyone that was left at home. She was blushing as Seokjin unzipped her coat for her, shucking it off and hanging it in the closet, the sounds of the TV from the parlor indicating that a few of the hybrids were hanging out in there.

“You’re back,” Yoongi appeared from the kitchen, leaning against the threshold with a dish rag in his hand. “I thought I’d have to call a cab for you two.”

“No, we took a walk to digest the wine before I got behind the wheel,” Y/N replied, Yoongi smirking when Seokjin was fussing over lint on her sweater from her coat, his fingertips skimming her arms and sides and leaving a trail of fire in their wake. “Hope there’s leftover chicken for my lunch tomorrow!”

“You know there isn’t, even without you and Jin eating your fill,” Yoongi scoffed, flicking long hair out of his face. The front of his white tee-shirt was damp from doing dishes, the material clinging to the muscles of his lower abdomen. “Here, let me take that.”

Yoongi sprung forward, taking the Eataly bag from Seokjin, and Y/N didn’t miss the way Yoongi subtly sniffed in her direction, his expression turning sly as he returned to the kitchen with the swish of his spotted tail. Stiffening, knowing that Yoongi could probably detect Seokjin’s scent all over her, as well as her uneasy expression, Y/N pinched the bridge of her nose.

“How the hell are we going to break the news without me suffering from a heart attack?” Y/N sighed, shivering when Seokjin cupped the nape of her neck, stroking the sides of her throat, Y/N blinking up at him from her spot in front of the jaguar hybrid, unease heighting when she saw the mischief on his face. “What are you–”

“I LOVE Y/N!” Seokjin suddenly hollered at the top of his lungs, Y/N flinching a foot in the air, both because she never heard Seokjin speak so loudly, and the words that came from his mouth. “SHE LOVES ME BACK!”

Cringing, Y/N supposed that was one way to do it, Seokjin bending suddenly and picking Y/N up by her waist, spinning her around like a giant goober. While her world was turning, dizzying up her head, she caught Jeongguk and the shape of his antlers, poking his head over the bannister from upstairs with a hand pressed over his mouth and his shoulders shaking. Prick.

Hoseok barreled into the foyer from the parlor, half of a Twizzler hanging out of his mouth, clever eyes round and filled with joy.

“No way. You told her!?” Hoseok fist-bumped the air, whistling his three-note tone, russet tail swinging merrily. Y/N’s jaw was loose, the idea that Seokjin had been discussing his feelings for her with Hoseok hard to fathom.

Namjoon’s door cracked open a few inches, his eyebrow raised in curiosity as he glanced out into the hall, his glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose. Despite the news, his gaze went straight to the front door, making sure it was locked up, his half-bitten ear fluttering in satisfaction.

“Didn’t strike me as the polyamorous type, kiddo,” Jeongguk slouched down the stairs, tattoos on both his arms exposed with the muscle tee he was wearing. “You on the other hand, Pink Panther, you should work on subtlety.”

Embarrassed by the jab from Jeongguk, an amused glitter in his black eyes, Y/N shot him a withering glare, very aware of Seokjin still holding her mid-air like a child.

“Yo, Yoongi! You have competition!” Hoseok shouted in the direction of the kitchen, the leopard hybrid popping into the hall and giving Hoseok the finger.

“Foxy, I’ve never heard a voice as grating as yours, let alone known someone to flap their gums so much,” Yoongi seethed, though his expression softened when he looked at Y/N. The silent exchange between the two was, as always, supernatural, the uneven set of Yoongi’s mouth almost telling her congratulations. “Leave Y/N alone, you’re embarrassing her.”

Hoseok finished chewing his Twizzler, still staring at Seokjin proudly, Y/N tapping on Seokjin’s shoulders for him to put her down sheepishly. Seokjin, reluctantly, lowered her to the floor, glee still plain as day on his face.

“You guys could have a thr—” Hoseok was cut off when Yoongi used the dish rag he was still holding to smack the back of the fox hybrid’s head, even Seokjin offering Hoseok a low, feral growl. “Nevermind! I’ll butt out! Y/N, come watch Step Brothers with me!”

Hoseok, quick to recover from the sharp whack of the towel, his hand massaging his scalp with a wince, gestured towards the parlor, winking at Y/N merrily. Y/N snorted, hoping that the shameful spark of enticement that struck through her at that idea was undetected by the hybrids in the foyer. Jeongguk was calling Hoseok a ‘dirty goddamn pervert’ before retreating outside for a smoke.

Casting a look upstairs, Y/N noticed Taehyung’s door ajar, the Kodiak hybrid’s head of dark curly hair visible. Too far away to gauge his reaction, Y/N hoped that he wasn’t upset, even though Seokjin had cut right to the chase, declared their mutual affection, and they weren’t sneaking around. She felt immensely awkward, between Yoongi and Hoseok still bickering, Taehyung watching from upstairs, and Namjoon’s disinterested retreat back into his bedroom.

“Wanna go watch the movie with me?” Y/N put her focus on Seokjin, unwilling to part with him just yet, and truthfully, missing Hoseok like a lost limb. “I can stay up for a bit longer before I head to bed for work tomorrow.”

“Mmm-hm,” Seokjin easily agreed, the peeved look on his face disappearing when Y/N reached for his hand. Before they left for the parlor, Y/N addressed Yoongi, who was heading back into the kitchen, murmuring something about “fuckin’ fox”.

“Hey, angel. Any idea where Jimin is?” Y/N tried to pay no mind to Seokjin pressing on the vulnerable skin of the inside of her wrist with his thumb, Yoongi humming and leaning forward, kissing her cheekbone with a featherlight ghost of his lips.

“His room, showering. Can’t you hear the noisy-ass pipes?” Yoongi replied, jutting his chin forward in the direction of Jimin’s room down the hall. “Don’t worry. Every hybrid in a two mile radius heard Seokjin’s declaration.”

“Ass,” Y/N muttered, narrowly dodging the dish towel he twisted up to level a smack to her behind, Seokjin growling gutturally and tugging Y/N towards the parlor, ignoring Yoongi’s amused snickers.

Hoseok was already comfortable on the recliner, the movie queued up, snacking on his Twizzlers with a wry smirk on his face, staring pointedly at her and Seokjin’s intertwined fingers. Resisting the urge to wipe that smirk off his face with her mouth, Y/N squeaked when Seokjin yanked on her hand, the jaguar hybrid plopping down on the couch with her in tow. Somehow, she found her legs draped over his lap, her back leaning on the armrest and his hands running up and down her calves indulgently. It seemed Seokjin was resuming his touchiness, and that time around, he jacked up the intensity to one thousand.

Hoseok simply played the movie, like her and Seokjin sitting like that was completely ordinary, Y/N finding herself a little tense with the intimacy of the position she was in. However, as seconds ticked by and Seokjin’s fingertips massaged her skin vigorously, she was melting into the couch, eyes already heavy with sleep. Over the noise of the movie, Seokjin’s content purrs lulled her to sleep, and the next time she had consciousness was when she felt him gather her in his arms and carry her to her bedroom.

“I think we’re going to schedule the investigation for Monday, do you think that will work?” Y/N was in the process of stacking a new batch of Labradorite onto the crystal table at the shop, Judy helping her with her silver bangles jangling.

“You’ll have to give Erika a call, and I’ll book the hotel that the family will stay in overnight,” Judy replied, blowing sandy hair out of her face.

Y/N had about one million things going on in her life at that point, but prioritizing the investigation was at the near top of the list. First, of course, was Hoseok’s birthday that upcoming Saturday, and Y/N had finally managed to plan what they were doing after squeezing it out of him. That aside, she hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Jimin in 24 hours, the coyote hybrid was already outside with the horses before she went to work that morning, so Y/N had no idea what he thought of her and Seokjin yet. Taehyung, at least, was present for her early breakfast with Yoongi, and didn’t appear upset at all, which had her and Yoongi exchanging secret looks of pure disbelief.

“Y/N? Did you hear me?” Judy snapped her out of her thoughts, a kind smile on her face when Y/N realized she was staring blankly at a slab of rose quartz.

“O-oh, no, I’m so sorry. I have a lot on my mind, my bad,” Y/N stuttered, Judy nodding while adjusting the way a sphere of Labradorite was sitting in a shallow bowl, so the flash of blue in the crystal was sparkling just right. “What did you say?”

“Not to worry, Y/N. I was just asking about your hybrids… that reading I gave you many months ago. Have you seen any truth in it?”

It was common for Judy to speak like that, as if she didn’t have psychic ability, but it didn’t bother Y/N at all. In fact, she preferred Judy’s way of going about divination rather than her mother’s tactic of going behind her back or blurting out her random premonitions without warning.

“I…” Y/N fumbled with the box in front of her, accidentally dropping the rose quartz point she was holding. “I took some notes, like you suggested. I was able to connect the cards to each of them.”

“Really?” Judy exclaimed, excitement lighting up her green eyes, though the tug at the corner of her mouth told Y/N her boss knew as much.

“Considering my boy’s pasts, when you gave me that reading at the time, I was sort of against the idea of entertaining any kind of romance between us. I wanted them to feel safe enough to start living their lives how they wanted. But I couldn’t help…”

“Falling?” Judy raised an eyebrow, her smile kind and sincere.

“Yeah, more like I hurtled myself off the cliff of no return,” Y/N joked, thoughts going to Seokjin, who sent her off that morning with dozens of kisses peppered across her cheeks. She thought of Yoongi, who got up extra early to make more chicken for her lunch. How Taehyung would snap pictures of her when she wasn’t looking, Namjoon’s thoughtful nightly book recommendations.

“Good to know that my readings are still accurate,” Judy was amused, placing another crystal on the table with a chuckle. “That’s why you’ve been so chipper these days. A couple of months ago you seemed very stressed out.”

“I’m still figuring things out. Two of them reciprocate my feelings, so far,” Y/N mumbled quietly, somehow finding it nice to confide in her boss. Her mother would be way too excited to talk about her and the boys.

“Is one of them part of our new investigation team?” Judy got to her feet, dusting off her maxi skirt. “That wolf hybrid seemed quite protective of you that day you brought him here in August.”

Y/N blinked, thinking back to that day– it was the first day she even spoke to Namjoon, the day she brought him home. She shook her head quickly, a pang in her chest, remembering his stoic indifference towards her relationships with Yoongi and Seokjin.

“No, he’s not one of them,” she replied, Judy chuckling once again.

“Stubborn, I remember that from the card I pulled for him.”

“Oh, not to change the subject, but speaking of Namjoon– my wolf hybrid, I mean,” Y/N joined Judy at the counter with the empty cardboard box from the kitchen, chewing her lip. “He’s interested in coming to work with me a few times a week. Would it be okay if I bring him next time I’m here?”

Judy helped her break down the cardboard box, nodding enthusiastically.

“That would be wonderful! We won’t have to haul in these crystal boxes anymore and break our backs. I take it he’s interested in your practice?”

“I think he just likes to get out of the house, and he’s a big reader. Honestly it’s our book collection here that interests him, most likely,” Y/N glanced at her watch, noting that it was time for her lunch break, mouth watering at the thought of Yoongi’s chicken. “He’ll be happy you said yes, thank you so much!”

Judy waved her off like ‘no problem’ heading to the back room. Typically, around lunch, Judy would leave Y/N at the shop and head home if she had no scheduled readings. According to the books, there was no one scheduled for services, so it was likely Judy was on her way out and Y/N would have to lock up later. Humming as she unpacked her lunch, she shot Namjoon a text.

Y/N: Judy says you can come to work with me whenever you want! 🥳

Joonie 🐺: Thanks for asking, I’ll come with you next week.

Namjoon wasn’t much of a texter, so she left it at that, grinning at her lockscreen as she closed it. She tended to rotate wallpapers, but currently, it was the picture of Jimin and Seokjin laughing at Hoseok being chased around by Bandit the rooster. Every time she saw it, it made her snort, her heart warming. Y/N flinched when she got a notification from her banking app, her direct deposit hitting her admittedly semi-drained account. Sighing with relief, as she had spent quite a bit of money on Hoseok’s upcoming birthday, she thought it was all worth it when she glanced at his smiling face on her lockscreen.

“We should go on a date,” Seokjin had his arms wrapped around her waist from behind while she was folding some laundry in her room, his tail winding around her leg and lips in her ear. She dropped the tank top she was holding in surprise, craning her neck so she could look at him.

“You wanna take me on a date, Seokjinnie?” Y/N cooed, prodding at his cheek teasingly. “Where do you want to go, honey?”

Seokjin pursed his lips as he thought, nestling his chin in the crook of her neck. Nearly swooning at how affectionate he had become in just two days, she felt his steady heartbeat flush against her back.

“We don’t even have to go anywhere, pretty. We can stay here, just do something special, the two of us,” Seokjin replied, her cheeks aflame when he called her pretty, but Y/N was reminded of Seokjin’s slight distaste for traveling, so she got what he was trying to say.

“I like the sound of that,” Y/N resumed folding her tank top, already cooking up some ideas for an at-home date for the two of them. “How about next Friday, the 24th. I’ll plan something for the two of us, okay?”

“Mmm,” Seokjin agreed, kissing her temple, regretfully pulling away from her and reaching for the laundry basket to help her out. “Only if you let me plan some things of my own for that night.”

“Of course, love,” Y/N giggled, but her laughter was cut short once she glanced at the jaguar hybrid, who was currently folding a pair of her lacy panties. “Oh my god. Let me fold that!”

Snatching the thong away from him, Y/N wanted to throw up from humiliation, but all Seokjin did was snort, retrieving another pair of panties from the laundry basket– to her mortification.

“You’re acting like I’ve never seen these before. Pretty, don’t you know that we’ve all been folding your underwear for months each time we have laundry duty?” Seokjin was ever so nonchalant, Y/N stupidly realizing that her panties didn’t magically appear in her dresser, when she wasn’t the one to pull them out of the dryer.

“Oh my god,” Y/N face-planted into her mattress, the realization like a bucket of ice water dumped over her head.

She pictured smug Jeongguk in the laundry room, hanging up one of her skimpy bralettes, or worse, utility-grade sports bras on the drying rack, nearly curling into herself in shame. Seokjin patted her back, barely containing his laughter, but all that did was make Y/N want to hide in a hole even more.

“Y/N, you wash our underwear every week, fold it, too. You bought us underwear, you know what they look like. Don’t be so embarrassed,” Seokjin hauled Y/N up by her elbows, clear humor written all over his face, Y/N unsure whether or not she enjoyed it when he teased her so much. “Ooh. I like these ones.”

Seokjin dangled a pair of baby pink panties in front of her face with his forefinger and thumb, the pair with a tiny bow on the waistline, the fabric a mixture of cotton and lace. Absolutely scandalized, Y/N felt both involuntary arousal and annoyance strike through her.

“Okay, now you’re fucking with me,” Y/N bat his hand out of her face, Seokjin’s squeaky laughter filling the room noisily. “Don’t be pervy, Seokjin. It doesn’t suit you!”

“Oh, no?” Seokjin cocked his head, his sleek black ears fluttering as his expression turned sly. “Shame…”

Y/N swore Seokjin’s eyes darkened, and she wondered what he meant by that, hurriedly grabbing her underwear from him and stuffing the garment into her dresser. She heard Seokjin snicker, but he mercifully stopped teasing her, moving on to fold a pair of her pajamas instead, biting his lip.

“Um, so what should we have for dinner tonight?” Y/N changed the subject, trying to block out sudden lewd thoughts surrounding her and Seokjin, her movements jittery.

Seokjin looked like he wanted her for dinner that night, but he managed to compose himself with his gorgeous smile, tucking her pajamas into her drawer beside her. She mentally dared him to make the innuendo that was no doubt floating around his head, but Seokjin didn’t– Y/N hardly knew if she was relieved or disappointed.

“Well, we got those steaks in the fridge Yoongi picked up from the butcher’s shop. Didn’t you show me a recipe for steak with some kind of bourbon sauce?”

“Oh, yeah, I could go for that,” Y/N’s mouth watered, already picturing her plate filled with meat, smashed potatoes, and maybe some crispy green beans.

Seokjin purred, closing up her dresser. Turning, Seokjin reached for her chin, Y/N’s heart pounding harshly in her chest, the jaguar hybrid looking down at her through his eyelashes. Tilting her face up, Seokjin’s hold on her firm but delicate, and involuntarily, her tongue peeked out to moisten her lips while Seokjin’s eyes narrowed as he followed the movement. She was staring at his mouth in a daze, saying huh when he spoke again, not hearing him the first time.

“I said, pretty,” Seokjin’s thumb pressed on her lower lip, his voice lilting and spellbinding like a siren. “If we make that, take it easy on the bourbon, okay? You got sick last time Jimin brought out the whiskey.”

“I forgot about that,” Y/N responded quietly, blush settling over her cheeks when she remembered how Seokjin had to hold her hair back while she spilled her guts into the toilet after one glass, his free hand soothingly rubbing her back when she heaved over the porcelain bowl. “Emb-barassing. At least you still loved me after that, hurling and crying hysterically… what a mess.”

“Hmm…” Seokjin strengthened the hold he had on her chin, his expression a combination of playfulness and reapproach, making her gut tighten. “What do you humans say when you get married? ‘In sickness and in health’?”

Jaw hanging loose, still not used to how deeply Seokjin felt for her, and she was at a loss as to what to say. Appearing smug, Seokjin kissed her forehead softly, continuing to speak when she had no reply.

“Remember, you took care of my fever when you adopted me? I was returning that gesture!”

“I love you,” was all Y/N could think of in response, feeling his tail wind around her waist sensually, Y/N leaning forward and up, capturing his lips in a surprise kiss, Seokjin freezing for a moment before he parted his mouth slightly, kissing her lower lip sweetly.

Seokjin had yet to kiss her in a way that was, well, more heated, but she loved the chaste, adoring kisses that he did offer her infinitely. She whimpered against his mouth when one of his hands landed on her lower back, pulling her closer into his embrace. Seokjin made his own noise of pleasure in response, one that had her stomach flipping over. Before she could deepen their kiss, like always, Seokjin pulled away, his pillowy lips shiny and red. Releasing the hold she had on him– fists curled into the material of his sweater, she pouted at the loss of contact, but Seokjin simply snorted through his nose and shook his head, his eyes sparkling.

“Let’s go, we still have to switch over the laundry before starting on dinner,” Seokjin let go of her, Y/N blinking away her desire, her pout growing deeper.

“Ugh, my muscles are sore. I don’t wanna go back upstairs,” Y/N complained, watching Seokjin scoop up the empty laundry basket, his face becoming contemplative as he assessed her, before he set the basket down again. “Judy had me schlepping in 30 pound boxes of crystals into the store all week.”

“Here, then,” Seokjin turned, bending slightly, motioning for her to get on his back with a cheeky grin. “I’ll carry you up.”

Normally, Y/N would have been embarrassed to take Seokjin up on the offer, but childlike glee welled up in herself instead– not even hesitating to jump on him with a giggle. Seokjin straightened up, adjusting his steady hold around the backs of her knees, giving her a piggyback ride up the stairs to the laundry room happily. Arms draped around her jaguar hybrid’s neck, elated, she indulged in a desire she had been holding onto for months– and planted a kiss on the side of his strong neck, Seokjin shivering beneath her.

Y/N watched Jeongguk lift a heavy box of gadgets into Namjoon’s van, the elk hybrid grunting with the weight of it, Y/N clicking her tongue at him. It may had had been a mistake to give him a bottomless budget to go crazy on ordering equipment, because he had enough of it to film an episode of Ghost Adventures and put Zak Bagans to shame. She supposed, however, that it made him happy and less bratty, and with just two days until the scheduled investigation, she noticed the elated difference in Jeongguk’s attitude.

“So,” Y/N began, hoping that the fact that he had a brand new set of electronics to mess with would loosen him up. “Hoseok’s birthday tonight. We’re all going to go out together, right?”

“Do I really have to spend the evening in a sweaty nightclub with a bunch of drunk and horny humans?” Jeongguk peered over his shoulder with a grimace, scratching one of his tapered ears.

“I spent almost a grand on a fucking table for eight, so yeah, you need to suck it up and put your leather pants on,” Y/N snapped, Jeongguk spinning around and staring at her with shock and contempt. “Seokjin doesn’t like loud noises or crowds and he still agreed to go for Hoseok.”

“Jesus wept, fine,” Jeongguk put his hands up, dark eyes round.

“You’ll have fun. Get wasted and listen to music, two of your favorite things to do,” Y/N soothed, smirking. Jeongguk rolled his eyes, returning to his task, fiddling with some kind of EMF detector that probably burnt a hole into her already slimmed-down wallet. “Where’s Joon?”

“Am I the wolf’s keeper or something?” Jeongguk raised his pierced brow, leaning his hip against the van and humming at the growing annoyance Y/N was feeling towards him. “Check the stable, he wanted to go for a walk, mentioned needing to talk to the coyote. Satisfied, kiddo?”

Muttering, she stormed away from him, peeved that he was laughing heartily at her tantrum. She wanted to similarly check in on Namjoon, who had yet to give a response to the idea of taking a limo and spending their Saturday night in a club for Hoseok. Positive that Namjoon had never stepped foot in a place like the club she had booked, she wanted to show him a few pictures so he’d have an idea of what he’d be walking into.

A couple of weeks prior, she cornered Hoseok, hugging him around his waist and refusing to let go until he picked out what he wanted to do for his birthday. Finally, he agreed to go out to the club, his cheeks red with embarrassment, but Y/N was relieved he told her so she could book a table in advance. The fox hybrid, the morning of his birthday, went out for his long-distance Saturday run, so she didn’t get to see much of him during the afternoon. No doubt, before they left, Hoseok would spend quite a bit of time getting showered and dressed for the occasion.

Wrapping her coat more tightly around her body, she had the stable in sight, the sound of chickens clucking within their coop, a layer of snow collected on the roof of the building. It was likely that Namjoon and Jimin heard and smelled her approach, but she hoped that she caught them off-guard, secretly. Those two particular hybrids were friendly towards each other, but it struck her as odd that Namjoon would have something in specific to discuss with the coyote hybrid.

Pausing by the stable door and peering around it cautiously, she spotted Jimin kneeling besides what appeared to be the early stages of the garden bed constructions, sawdust covering his jeans while he pointed at something. Neither of them glanced her way, Namjoon standing with his back to her, his arms crossed over his chest. Straining her ears, she was able to eavesdrop, astounded that neither of them caught her scent yet.

“–yeah, this smaller one here is for herbs, if that’s what you mean,” Jimin was saying, his sandy tail swishing against the ground.

“Do you think it’s big enough?” Namjoon had skepticism painting his tone.

“Why, you don’t think so? Y/N wanted a small one for cooking herbs,” Jimin was chewing on his lip, light eyebrows pulled together.

“Can you do another medium-sized one? I’ve been doing some research on the types of herbs she’d be able to grow during the summer in this area, there’s quite a few. That way she’ll have a bigger variety for her practice, and we can keep the culinary herbs separate,” Namjoon requested, Y/N clasping a hand over her mouth, blown away that Namjoon would do something so nice for her without her knowing.

“Yeah, I can do that, I have enough extra plywood,” Jimin seemed just as stunned as Y/N, his yellow eyes wide, straightening up and sticking his hands into the pockets of his blue jeans. “You’re going tonight, right?”

“You think I’m going to let Y/N waltz into a nightclub without me? Human men are fucking disgusting. She needs us all,” Namjoon scoffed, Y/N feeling like her head was swimming. “Besides the humans, drugging and assaulting each other, Hoseok is going to cut loose, so will some of the others, so it’s important someone stays relatively sober. That’s why I’m mad at the kid right now, not wanting to tag along.”

“You mean Jeongguk? I think he’ll go, too. He seems like a tough son of a bitch, but he thinks similarly to you. Isn’t that why you’re close? Isn’t that why he was the only one able to calm you down… that night?”

Namjoon’s chest rumbled, his ears turning downwards at the mention of the night he and Taehyung had their altercation.

“I don’t like to think of that night,” Namjoon replied quietly, the constant sway of his tail stilling somberly. “Regardless, I don’t give a shit how Jeongguk feels, I don’t care if I have to drag him by his antlers to the club. He’s going.”

“Y/N spent a lot of money on Hoseok for this,” Jimin scratched his chin sympathetically, strolling to the stack of plywood, his steel-toed boots echoing around the lofty stable. “If he doesn’t go, he’ll make a lot of new enemies around here.”

“Dramatic phrasing,” Namjoon snickered, though as he moved for the first time Y/N had been spying on them, his mouth was in a thin line, evidently agreeing with Jimin. “I wouldn’t say enemies, but between Yoongi, the bear, and Seokjin, grudges would be made.”

Jimin made a noncommittal noise of agreement, Y/N beginning to feel guilty for eavesdropping, and her head was about to explode from the apparent concern Namjoon and Jimin had for her. Y/N was so wrapped up in her own feelings and care for the boys, she forgot to realize that they might hold her well-being in high regard as well.

Backing up a few steps as quietly as she could, she made some clumsy human noises, skipping into the stable like she hadn’t heard anything. She was proud of herself for not giving herself away with a lovestruck look plastered on her face, the fur on Namjoon’s tail standing on end when she barreled into the building, the tips of his ears turning red.

“Hi guys, whatcha up to?” Y/N asked innocently, Jimin blinking and dropping the piece of plywood he was holding.

“Just talking about the garden beds,” Namjoon recovered smoothly, in stark contrast to Jimin’s attempts to seem nonchalant. “What time are we leaving tonight?”

“Ooh, Joonie, you’re going to come?” Y/N continued to play stupid, leaning on one of the empty horse stalls, one that Jimin kept a surplus of hay in. “I think we’ll leave around 9:30. The club doesn’t open until 10 anyways. Jimin, you’ll come too, sweetheart?”

Jimin’s cheeks turned pink, nervously brushing sawdust from his jeans, nodding. It was somewhat hilarious to watch the two of them pretend they weren’t just talking about her, and Y/N wasn’t about to embarrass them by revealing she had been listening on, so she feigned normalcy by picking imaginary lint off of her pink sherpa coat.

“Of course, Y/N,” Jimin blurted, using the toe of his boot to push the plywood he dropped away, one hand gliding through his golden hair. “Wouldn’t miss it!”

Thankfully, once Y/N was able to find Jimin after Seokjin’s declaration the following day when she came home from work, the coyote hybrid had acted totally normal. Having a sneaking suspicion that like Taehyung, and even Seokjin himself, Jimin was a little bit avoidant, she decided if he was going to pretend nothing was different, so would she.

“How are we getting there?” Namjoon cleared his throat, stalking up to her side.

“I ordered a limo. Just about the only vehicle that can get us somewhere all together,” Y/N smirked, Namjoon cocking his head in confusion. Often, she forgot Namjoon wasn’t familiar with things like that. “It’s like a shorter, longer version of your van, kind of. Bench seats and a fridge filled with champagne, and the driver is separated by a partition.”

“Flashy,” Namjoon scoffed, Y/N flicking off a clump of hay clinging to his forearm. “Matches the fox’s personality, I guess.”

“Oh, yeah. There’s a dress code, I figured you two should know that– no athletic wear. Just basic slacks and a nice shirt, essentially.”

“That eliminates half of Hoseok’s wardrobe,” Jimin piped up, his ears twitching when Y/N giggled.

“Yeah, but he cleans up well,” Y/N could hardly wait to see what Hoseok would pull out of his closet– she had zero doubts he’d look drop dead sexy. “Alright, good. Everyone’s on board! I’m gonna go shower and scrounge up something for dinner later.”

“Dress warmly, the temperature is going to drop later,” Namjoon called after her, a frown on his face.

“Can’t make any promises, Joonie,” Y/N sent a wink his way, missing the low growl rumbling through his chest, picturing the dress she had bought for the very occasion and sashaying away.

“She’s going to do as she pleases, isn’t she,” Namjoon muttered to Jimin, who was eyeing the way her hips swayed as she walked, but the wolf hybrid had a wry smile stretching across his face.

Y/N took the opportunity of going out for Hoseok’s birthday to pull out all the stops appearance-wise, and she had to admit to herself, she was doing too well at it. Her makeup was dark and sultry, hair done to utter perfection, and the dress. She saw a picture of it online and bought it so fast she thought her computer was going to catch on fire. Taking a look at herself in the full-length mirror, she admired how lethal her figure looked in the short bodycon dress, legs on display, the off-the-shoulder cut of the neckline showing off the choker Namjoon gave her for Christmas. She was in the middle of strapping her heels around her ankles when a knock came on her door tentatively. Y/N guessed it might have been Taehyung, due to the hesitant sound of the knuckles against the wood.

Heels clicking against the hardwood, she reached the door, taking a deep breath, nervously wondering what Taehyung would think of her outfit– she had never worn something so revealing around the boys and it had her hands shaking on the doorknob. Throwing it open, Taehyung’s sandalwood cologne hit her smack in the face, his carmine eyes nearly bugging out of his head when he saw her. Unable to help himself, his gaze lowered, staring at the way the material of her dress clung to every curve, his lips parting.

“What’s up, Tae?” Y/N blurted, dazzled by his appearance, his dark curls pushed off of his forehead, a silky white button-down with pearls making up the buttons, and straight-leg slacks. Her eyes lingered on the thin gold chain around his throat, her gift to him from Christmas, too bashful to make eye contact all of a sudden.

“The… the car, the car’s here,” Taehyung was dazed, eyes glued to her legs, Y/N’s mouth drying up. “That’s what you’re wearing?”

“Uh, yeah, why? You don’t like it?” Y/N felt her face fall, Taehyung’s throat bobbing when he swallowed urgently, shaking his head.

“N-no, it’s fine,” Taehyung’s strained voice had color pooling in her cheeks, blindly reaching behind her so she could grab her clutch. “I’ll get your coat.”

Taehyung darted away, smoke pretty much coming off of his heels, leaving Y/N stunned. Perhaps she had gone a tad overboard with the sexy dress. That aside, his reaction had hope blooming in her chest; if that was his heated reaction to the way she looked, could it be possible that had at least a semblance of an attraction towards her? Squaring her shoulders at the thought, she marched out into the hall confidently, and when she reached the foyer, most of her boys were hanging out around the stairwell, except for Taehyung, who appeared to be fishing around in the coat closet with stiff posture.

Similar to how they reacted at the cookout when she came out in her sundress, silence swept over the room with her arrival. Jimin’s face was so red she could probably fry an egg on one of his cheeks. Even usually-composed Yoongi’s eyes had gone round, dropping the sports jacket he was holding. Giving her a once over, licking his lips, Yoongi chuckled softly and shook his head.

“Ready to go? Where’s Hoseok?” Y/N was hoping she wasn’t reading smug, Seokjin frowning when he poked his head around Jeongguk’s frame, heat in his gaze but disapproval mixing with it.��

“Getting shit from the kitchen,” Jeongguk answered blandly, picking his nails. He tried to be nonchalant, but she caught him looking at her out of the corner of his eye.

“Y/N, it’s really cold outside,” Seokjin narrowed his eyes at her bare legs, adjusting the collar of his black oxford shirt, a few of the buttons undone.

“I know, that’s why my arms are covered,” retorted, gesturing to the long sleeves of the dress. “We won’t be outside for long, anyways, and it gets hot in those clubs.”

Seokjin was entirely unconvinced, watching Taehyung emerge from the coat closet, handing Y/N her longest, thickest coat, barely looking at her while she snickered at his selection. Shrugging it on, aware of all of the attention on herself– and for once, she enjoyed it thoroughly.

“Alright! Got the champagne! Y/N darling, shall we?” Hoseok waltzed in from the kitchen looking all kinds of delicious, in a white suit and a blue silky shirt, a bottle of Moet in one of his hands, using a free one to hook around her elbow and tow her to the front door. “Don’t forget to lock up, wolf!”

Namjoon, waiting by the door, eyeing Y/N’s neck and the choker encircling it, jingled the keys to the house in his fist, and waited for everyone to follow her and Hoseok to the limo waiting outside before he locked up.

Yoongi made it to her free side with a smirk on his face, Y/N admiring the way he styled his long hair. Hoseok was the first one inside of the limo while Yoongi held Y/N’s hand as she slid in herself, brushing a kiss on the back of it.

“You look gorgeous,” Yoongi said proudly, sitting beside her, Y/N nudging him in the ribs with her elbow. “Gonna have to keep my eye on you tonight.”

Hoseok had brought their portable speaker, already jacking up the volume on a rap playlist, grinning wickedly as the rest of the hybrids climbed into the limo. Jeongguk had to pay particular attention to his antlers so he wouldn’t knock them against the ceiling, slouching low on the bench he was on. It was hard not to laugh at his grouchiness as he held onto a champagne flute with a fist, though his saving grace were the leather pants he did indeed put on, highlighting his muscular thighs.

Last one into the limo was Namjoon, cramming himself in between Jeongguk and Seokjin, the latter of which was directly across from Y/N, his expression more feline than ever, Y/N squirming in her seat under the weight of his gaze. To distract herself, she turned to Hoseok, clinking her glass with his, the fox hybrid pinching her cheek happily.

“Happy birthday Hoseok!” Y/N cheered, wrapping an arm around his shoulders for a brief side-hug, careful to not spill her drink on his crisp white sports jacket when the limo started to pull out of the driveway.

Leaning into her playfully, Hoseok turned up the speaker even louder, Y/N enjoying watching her hybrids loosen up, champagne in hands, and looking forward to a new experience. With Seokjin looking at her like that, however, she didn’t know if she’d make it through the night without pushing him against a wall.

Music pulsing from the speakers, Y/N already armed with a cocktail, she once again thought that the hefty price tag on the table she bought was worth it when she sunk into the cushy booth with satisfaction. The club, called “The Grand Boston”, was decorated lavishly, had an enormous bar, and was lit up brilliantly. Besides her own hybrids, several of which were ordering drinks at the bar, Y/N was surprised to see others milling around with their humans, which was relieving– not as many eyes on her and the fact that she had seven of them with her.

“Wanna order a bottle? They have Casamigos, your favorite,” Y/N spoke loudly over the music to her fox hybrid, who was in the middle of taking a shot, his face screwing up as he shoved a lime between his teeth.

“Nah, they jack up the prices, we can just get a few rounds of shots,” Hoseok replied after a moment, smirking at Jimin sliding into the booth, tumbler of whiskey in his hand.

“I mean, we might as well get bottle service, Foxy. It’s your birthday and we have this table,” Y/N rolled her eyes, flagging down someone to order the liquor.

“Oooh, pulling out all the stops for me?” Hoseok teased, flashing her a stunning smile, motioning for Seokjin to join them when the jaguar hybrid returned from the bar with his cocktail, and due to the warm temperature of the club, he had pulled another button loose on his shirt.

With more of his collar bones exposed, Y/N’s mouth involuntarily watered, and to cover it up she immediately poured herself a shot and downed it expertly. Somehow, she felt bad that she was having such thirsty thoughts about sweet Seokjin. Completely oblivious, he placed his arm around her shoulders, offering her a sip of the Moscow mule, angling the black straw to her lips. Then again, the spark in his eye as her lips wrapped around the straw told a different story, one that had the blood boiling in her veins.

“Um, the others?” Y/N broke the trance she was in, addressing Jimin. She could see Jeongguk by the bar, forearms leaning against the counter, Namjoon beside him, both of them in deep conversation that probably surrounded their upcoming investigation on Monday.

“They’re around. Don’t worry, Y/N, they won’t leave without you,” Jimin read her mind, knocking back his drink and watching people head towards the dance floor.

“Alright. Plan is to get wasted and go dance,” Hoseok began lining up shots, Seokjin snorting beside her. “Don’t laugh at me on my birthday, Jinnie. Here. Cheers!”

Y/N watched, praying she wasn’t being creepy, as Seokjin sprinkled salt on the back of his hand, swiping his tongue over the skin, before he hastily took the shot of tequila with a wince, Y/N hurriedly handing him a lime to suck on.

After a couple of rounds of shots, Y/N already feeling the liquor loosen her up and ready to dance, Yoongi joined them with his glass of Hennessy, refusing to touch the Casamigos.

“I can’t do tequila, Foxy. Makes me sick to my fuckin’ stomach,” Yoongi frowned when Hoseok slid the shot glass towards him, Seokjin taking it instead. Jimin, at least, participated, his face getting redder by the minute with all the booze.

“Come on, let’s dance,” Y/N stood, miraculously stable on her heels, hands extended for someone, anyone, to take them, and at once, Hoseok leapt to his feet, palm sliding into hers, motioning for Seokjin to take her free one.

Seokjin got up, somehow handling all of the tequila incredibly well, Y/N giggling as her fox and jaguar hybrids began to lead her to the dance floor.

“I’ll stay here and watch,” Yoongi’s sly expression ticked her off, giving her a once-over from behind his glass. Jimin was off to the bathroom and to refresh his whiskey, Y/N thinking it was likely his last round before he totally blacked out.

Led by Hoseok, who had long since ditched his sports jacket, they weaved through the crowd, Y/N suddenly remembered Seokjin’s aversion to seas of people. Casting him a worried look over her shoulder, Seokjin mouthed ‘I’m fine’, the grip he had on her left hand tightening. She caught something out of the corner of her eye, an extremely sparkly dress a young woman was wearing.

Trying to get a better look at the shimmering fabric, she paused– the woman was apparently flirting with someone, someone Y/N recognized immediately even if it was just the back of his head. Taehyung, who she hadn’t seen since they stopped by the coat check, was talking to a random girl, something that Y/N assumed the Kodiak hybrid would be way too shy to do. Mouth hanging open, drunken jealousy surging through her as she realized Taehyung could sense her presence via scent and didn’t even turn to look at her, his shoulders shaking in laughter as he responded to something the woman said. Again, Seokjin squeezed her hand, spinning the two of them slightly so their backs were to Taehyung, Y/N grateful for Seokjin’s keen perceptivity and consideration.

Facing Hoseok, who finally found a good place in the center of the club, far enough away from the speakers that would blow their eardrums out, Y/N shook away remaining jealousy and focused on the fox hybrid instead, who was doing some kind of silly dance to get her attention. The little number he was doing was in stark contrast to how sexy he looked, his sleeves rolled up over his elbows, eyes slightly lidded from the shots, ears drooping.

“Let’s see what you two got,” Hoseok shouted over the music, and Y/N would have been hesitant if it weren’t for the tequila, but she found herself mirroring Hoseok’s swaying movements, a confident smile on his face. “Come on, Jinnie, weren’t you an acrobat? You must have some moves!”

Y/N shuddered when Seokjin’s chest was suddenly pressed to her back, simply holding her hips while she rolled them, her cheeks on fire while Hoseok cackled, clocking the fluster all over Y/N’s face. It was then, she decided fuck it, both presssing her hips backwards into Seokjin and pulling Hoseok to her by the collar of his shirt, winding her arms around his neck. Seokjin grunted deeply into her ear, his lips grazing the shell of it, while all smug attitude was knocked out of Hoseok in a blink.

“Out of wisecracks? Dance with me,” Y/N challenged, something flashing dangerously in the fox hybrid’s eyes before his hands were on her waist, copying the movements she made, but careful not to collide his hips into hers.

Ben always used to warn her to stay away from the tequila, as she tended to get frisky with a few shots of it coursing through her system, but she didn’t care that night. Not when Seokjin’s grip on her hips was firm, letting her essentially grind backwards into him, and Hoseok was looking at her differently for the first time, the way he moved graceful and precise. The world seemed to fall away into neon lights, hypnotic music, and the two hybrids that she was sandwiched between, Y/N really letting loose by letting her head loll back onto Seokjin’s chest, eyes slipping shut. She was too tipsy to be embarrassed about her behavior, and judging by the dark purrs from behind her and the mirth returning to her fox hybrid’s eyes, the two of them were freely enjoying themselves as well.

“Wanna take another shot,” Y/N murmured after a while, pouting when Hoseok pulled away in favor of watching the light show, his tail swishing, though Seokjin still held her to his chest, his nose tucked into the base of her throat.

“I think you’re good, pretty,” Seokjin replied, squeezing her hips and turning her around, his palms gliding up to cup her waist, the thin material of her dress doing nothing to hide her shape nor the way his touch burned her deliciously. “Don’t want to overdo it now, right?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, leaning up, stamping a kiss on his exposed collarbone in hopes that it would butter him up. His skin was dewy with sweat, Y/N wanting to eat him alive, but she released her hold of his wide shoulders so she could make her way back to the table, and further, the bottle.

“Y/N,” Seokjin’s voice had a sharpened edge of warning to it, following closely behind, navigating through the tipsy crowd. Fortunately, she didn’t come across Taehyung and that girl, but when she remembered the interaction, it only strengthened her desire to hightail it to the table.

“Judas priest, kiddo,” Jeongguk was lazily reclined in the booth, his feet kicked up on one of the tables like he owned the joint, eyes roaming over her flushed skin, mussed hair, and the scent of alcohol coming off of her like a bar floor. “That’s not a good idea–”

Before any of the hybrids could get to her, including Yoongi who lurched forward to snatch the shot glass away and Jimin’s noises of alarm, Y/N had already poured the shot down her throat, not even feeling the burn of the liquor, batting Yoongi’s hands away when he tried to take the glass.

“Alright, sweetheart, that’s enough,” Yoongi scolded, pushing the bottle of tequila towards Jimin, who swiftly tucked it behind him with a worried look. “You’re going to be sick tomorrow.”

“So? I’m celebrating!” Y/N frowned, booping Yoongi’s nose. She wasn’t even slurring, for Christ’s sake, and she could still walk in her heels perfectly. “You’re all being worrywarts, I’m fine.”

“Why don’t you sit for a minute, I’ll have the server bring some snacks around,” Yoongi maneuvered Y/N into the booth, her grumbling the entire time, squirming next to Jeongguk. Seokjin went with Yoongi, both of them moving urgently.

“Fussy babies,” Y/N muttered, scanning the room for Hoseok, Namjoon, and Taehyung, crossing her legs and massaging her sore ankles. “I can hold my liquor.”

“Sometimes,” Jeongguk replied sarcastically, barely looking up from his phone, his fingertips flying over the keyboard. “It’s almost 2 AM. We should go soon, before the club closes.”

“Aw, but did you even get to dance? How about you, Jimin?” Y/N lamented, Hoseok returning from the dance floor, sweat slicking up his forehead when he pushed his damp hair back, a swagger in his step.

“Do I look like I dance, kiddo?” Jeongguk scoffed, draining his glass, setting his phone aside. “Time to head out, fox.”

“Yeah, the crowd is dwindling anyways. I’m ready to raid the fridge and pass out,” Hoseok grabbed his jacket that was slung over the booth, Jimin excusing himself to pay the tab and look for Taehyung.

“We can have some of your birthday cake!” Y/N exclaimed, suddenly less disappointed about going home if it meant she could have something sugary. “Awh, where’s Joon bug? He’ll want some cake too, I wanna tell him!”

“12 ‘o clock, darling,” Hoseok pointed beyond her shoulder, Namjoon trudging back to the booth with his jean jacket pulled around him, Y/N’s coat in his hands. Surprisingly, he seemed like the most sober of the bunch, offering her her coat with purpose.

“I talked to the driver outside, he’s ready when we are,” Namjoon announced, Y/N struggling to shrug her coat on while sitting down, Jeongguk clicking his tongue and helping her right arm through the sleeve.

“What about Tae, though?” To her embarrassment, Y/N’s head began to feel like it was floating, that last shot definitely a mistake like Jeongguk had said, as much as she hated to admit it. Her tongue was heavy in her mouth, and she barely reacted when Yoongi dropped a bag of mini pretzels in her lap, stomach turning at the thought of chewing.

“Already outside, Y/N. Can you walk?” Namjoon made a motion for the rest of the hybrids to start heading towards the door with authority, Seokjin kissing the top of her head before he made sure Hoseok was going in the right direction.

“Yesss, I can walk, Joonie,” Y/N grouched, hauling herself to her feet, but unfortunately, her knees buckled. Cursing, Namjoon caught her swiftly before she could collapse on the floor, strong arms supporting her weight, Y/N limp.

“That’s a no, then,” Namjoon sighed, bending his knees, slinging Y/N over his shoulder in one smooth movement. Y/N squealed, scrabbling for a hold on the back of his jacket and staring at the floor, thankfully not getting violently nauseous as her world was turned upside-down and the wolf hybrid started walking. “Thank god I’m here. I hope you didn’t party like this in college, Y/N, it’s dangerous.”

“I’m currently b-breathing, aren’t I, Joon? Put me down, I’m embarrassed,” Y/N whined, whacking his back with her palms. Namjoon, however, was known to be unyielding. He promptly ignored her complaints, her strikes against his muscled back useless and truthfully, pathetic.

“I don’t know why you insisted on wearing those shoes. Your ankles are swelling,” Namjoon grunted, her heated face meeting some relief in the icy night air, the sounds of drunk clubgoers up and down the sidewalk. “You’re a handful, Y/N.”

“And you’re not, Namjoon?” Y/N squawked, astonished. However, Namjoon chuckled quietly, finally setting her down in front of the waiting limo, one broad palm on her lower back to help keep her upright while climbing in.

“Never claimed I wasn’t,” Namjoon replied offhand, clambering in behind her, the rest of the boys in various states of intoxication and exhaustion. “Are there sick bags in here?”

Namjoon was speaking to Yoongi, who was apparently the only one sober enough to have spatial awareness, even Jeongguk nodding off in the far end of the limo, the leopard hybrid waving a paper bag in front of Namjoon’s face. Jimin, Hoseok, and Seokjin were cracking open another bottle of champagne, while Taehyung was busy on his phone, presumably texting; Y/N dreaded to know exactly who.

“I’m not going to get sick, dad,” Y/N poked Namjoon in the bicep, peeved, the wolf hybrid choking on the sip of water he had taken, his fist pounding on his chest to clear the liquid from his lungs. Not expecting that reaction, Y/N felt laughter bubbling up in her throat, poking him again before setting her sights on Yoongi.

“What’s with that look?” Yoongi asked suspiciously, Y/N biting her lip, clumsily pouncing on him, sitting on one of his thighs and giving him a sloppy smooch on his cheek. “Oh boy. No more Casamigos for you, ever.”

“Angel, my feet hurt,” Y/N’s vision was fuzzy, supported by Yoongi’s arm around her back, the leopard hybrid letting her bury her face in his shirt, breathing in his familiar sweet scent, his tail caressing her bare calves.

Without asking, Yoongi exhaled, gripping one of her ankles gingerly and unfastening the straps around them. Easing each shoe off her foot as carefully as he could, Yoongi placed them in between him and Taehyung, who paused his texting to assess the spectacle. The Kodiak hybrid’s eyes lingered on the way Yoongi was prodding lightly around her swelling ankles to release pressure, but when he caught Y/N staring back at him, he returned to his phone with his tongue in his cheek.

Petulance took over, so instead of letting Taehyung’s iciness bother her, she focused on Yoongi’s touch, sighing blissfully, his talented hands kneading into her sore muscles, purring softly behind her. She was half asleep when something dawned on her, shooting straight up from Yoongi’s lap with an exclamation, looking around frantically for her clutch.

“Looking for this?” Namjoon held it up, his eyebrows raised, sucking in his cheeks.

Making grabby hands for it, Y/N thanked him quietly for keeping an eye on all of her things, before she clumsily maneuvered to the back of the limo where Hoseok was. Jeongguk was still drowsily trying to stay awake, his head bobbing, but Jimin had passed out finally. Hoseok and Seokjin switched to water, luckily, so when she took a seat beside her fox hybrid, he was a touch more sober than he was 15 minutes prior.

“How are you doing, darling?” Hoseok’s face was rounded out in sleep, content all over it.

“I forgot to give you this,” Y/N began digging around in her clutch, Hoseok sitting up a bit straighter and making a strange, fox-like noise in the back of his throat. “Seokjinnie got you something, remember, Jin?”

Seokjin had also apparently forgotten, blinking harshly. Finding the item at the bottom of the clutch, a tiny rectangular box, she opened it, handing Hoseok a silver bracelet, the chain link the exact same as the one Seokjin had on his ring. Seokjin had the adorable idea of getting them something that matched in some way, and Y/N had no problems letting the jaguar hybrid pick it out.

Hoseok was at a loss, holding the bracelet with his mouth open, Y/N stifling a laugh at his reaction. Seokjin shifted in his seat across from them, amused but also vulnerable.

“Jinnie, is this like a friendship bracelet?” Hoseok deadpanned, radiant joy coming off of him.

“Uh-huh. Happy birthday,” Seokjin broke out in a grin, Y/N’s heart warm with how sweet their close friendship was, Hoseok demanding the jaguar hybrid to clasp it around his wrist. “You two mean a lot to me.”

“Aw, Jinnie, you’re like my big brother,” Hoseok cooed, Seokjin rolling his eyes, but Y/N knew how profound those words were to Hoseok. The fox hybrid spent years in many places, never able to put down roots, much less make close friendships. “And you’re my little darling.”

Hoseok grabbed both of them, smushing themselves together for a group hug, Y/N finally releasing a hearty laugh that startled Jimin awake beside her, knowing that the tears slipping down her cheeks were tears of happiness.

After a brutal Sunday of recovering from the tequila binge, Y/N spending most of the day laying on the couch and watching reality TV with greasy pizza, she was well again on Monday, the day of the investigation. She had to drag Jeongguk to work with her that day, Namjoon of course itching to go without complaint. It was nice to have the two of them with her while she stocked inventory, Namjoon able to reach higher shelves and Jeongguk sorting through the Christian medallions in a way that made sense. While those two were more quiet than, say, Hoseok, there was still amiable conversation here and there. Y/N had a feeling Jeongguk, in particular, was gearing up for later that evening, gazing out the shop window every once in a while to stare at the van.

“Our plan is solid. I’ll handle the cameras, Namjoon is on the audio recording devices, and Y/N, I’m going to give you the EMF detector and communication devices, since you’re adept with sensing energies,” Jeongguk assured her and Namjoon, the sun beginning to go down as the three of them brought equipment into the Sanders’ home.

The family had left for the hotel that morning, and would be staying there until Y/N and the two hybrids could successfully banish the entity. The house was cold, and eerily quiet, and Y/N was grateful that she had black tourmaline necklaces for the three of them as an added layer of protection. While she was somewhat anxious about the investigation, there was immense comfort in having Namjoon and Jeongguk with her. Namjoon was protective, which became clearer to her by the day, and Jeongguk was nearly fearless.

“How long do you think the investigation will last?” Y/N questioned, wondering if it would be anything like what she had seen on television.

“However long it takes for us to get enough evidence,” Jeongguk shrugged, on his knees and setting up a tripod facing the hallway, where Erika mentioned seeing a shadow figure several times.

“Good thing we brought the Red Bull,” Y/N joked, placing a few clear quartz crystals around the living room, Namjoon on the couch with her laptop booting up the software they’d need for audio recording and reviewing footage. “You’re gonna teach me how to use these devices, right, sweets?”

“Obviously,” Jeongguk snorted, attaching one of the cameras to the tripod. “It’s straightforward though, not many buttons to press. Then you can ask your questions you wrote down. Namjoon will be right beside you, recording audio.”

Jeongguk, dressed in all black, pushed up the sleeves of his sweater, revealing those tattoos that Y/N never fully got a good look at. While he was prickly about explaining everything to Y/N, he did it thoroughly, and it was interesting to watch the elk hybrid drop into total concentration on a particular task. Y/N decided to take a walk through the small house, not sensing much on the first floor other than that odd feeling of being watched through the living room window. It was when she climbed the stairs to the three bedrooms where there was a chill rolling down her spine.

The master bedroom, where Erika slept– and her son, too, when he had his nightmares, had a sadness, a tense anxious feel to it. Putting selenite on all of the window sills, she stopped when she saw a photo sitting on Erika’s nightstand. It was the young mother, looking vibrant and happy in comparison to how nervous she was when Y/N met her. The young boy, too, was grinning without purplish circles under his eyes. Most noticeably different was the daughter, Julie, who was a few years younger and not wearing the gothic garb she had during their initial consultation. Sighing, she hoped that the family could be at ease again once her and the boys helped them.

Moving down the hall, hands coming up to rub her shivering arms, she peeked into the boy’s bedroom, nearly choking at the heaviness of the energy in there. Y/N refused to go in there without one of her hybrids with her. Nauseous, she tentatively made her way to the final bedroom, Julie’s.

The room was painted pink, but most of the walls were covered in pop punk posters. As for the energy, it was different from the solid wall of darkness in Tommy’s room, but it still made her feel sick and again, like someone was watching her. Visually sweeping the room as Jeongguk suggested, looking for any occultish items such as a Ouija board, but not actively going through the teenager’s stuff.

She didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, but she stiffened when an ice-cold draft filled the room, penetrating her body in a way that had her skin crawling. Dread filled her, resentment, and anger. Panicking, turning every which way to see if she could spot something physically manifesting, the thump-thump-thump against the walls returning. Whimpering, she sped out of the room, chest heaving, thundering down the stairs and startling Jeongguk, who was placing special lights around in the hallway.

Y/N smacked directly into his chest, quaking, clinging to his sweater for dear life and desperate to get rid of that supernatural coldness that pierced through her. Jeongguk grunted, letting her hide from the world in his sweater, his heart hammering steadily beneath her.

“What the fuck happened, are you okay?” Jeongguk’s hands were hesitant when he patted her on the back, but there was a clear alarm in his voice.

Namjoon’s clumsy, heavy tread was immediately thudding down the hall with urgency, Y/N releasing Jeongguk with embarrassment. Her reaction to that phenomena wasn’t exactly a great start to their investigation, establishing zero dominance over the entity, but she still couldn’t stop shaking. While Jeongguk was alarmed, Namjoon was calm, hands on her shoulders so he could duck his head and make eye-contact.

“Take a few deep breaths, Y/N,” Namjoon’s eyebrows were pinched, squeezing her shoulders comfortingly. “That’s it.”

After a couple of lungfuls of air, she was able to stop shaking underneath Namjoon’s palms, the wolf hybrid letting her go as soon as she calmed down. Both of them were waiting expectantly for her to relay what had happened, and Y/N felt like the presence was at the top of the stairs and watching them.

“I think we should focus on the second floor,” Y/N said weakly, Namjoon’s orange honey eyes shifting from her face to the stairs, his blank expression giving nothing away. If anything, it was nice to have the both of them there, confident and collected. “Especially in the children’s bedrooms. I didn’t go into the boy’s bedroom, the energy was too thick and without one of you–” I was too scared. “Something manifested in the teenager’s room, like an ice-cold draft that ran right through me. Then the knocking on the walls started up again.”

Jeongguk leaned a hip against the banister, making intense eye-contact with Y/N, like he was attempting to soak in every word with grave seriousness. Sucking his lip ring into his mouth, making an animalistic grunt, and with a nod, he agreed.

“So our key spots. The kid’s bedrooms, the window in the living room, and this hallway,” Jeongguk confirmed. “I’ll go upstairs and set up more equipment. Now that you have more of an idea of what the energy feels like up there, you should write down some more questions to ask later. You’ll be alright, center yourself.”

“Okay,” Y/N agreed, hoping she wasn’t being the weakest link. “You’re going to go up by yourself?”

“Don’t worry about me,” Jeongguk had said that before, but him saying that did absolutely nothing to prevent her from worrying anyway. “Let’s just finish setting up, and we’ll start recording when it’s dark out.”

She followed Namjoon like a lost duckling back into the living room, Y/N sitting beside him on the couch while he continued to boot up his software. Taking a moment, she centered herself, eyes shut, focusing on breathing and her connection to the Earth.

“Remember why we’re here,” Namjoon said softly when she opened her eyes again, most of her fear and anxiety dissolving after centering.

“For the family,” Y/N finished for him, Namjoon giving her knee a soft squeeze, his bitten ear flickering.

“Do the lights really have to be off? Y/N doesn’t have night vision,” Namjoon asked a quarter after midnight, all of his audio equipment prepped and ready, including his tapes on the coffee table– their “base”.

“I mean, if you want to be able to see anything on these full-spectrum cameras,” Jeongguk replied, promptly switching off the last lamp that offered Y/N vision in the house. “You’re not afraid of the dark, are you kiddo?”

“If you have time to be an ass, you have time to get to work,” Y/N hissed, brushing by him with the device she had just learned how to use in her hand. That particular device, a “Spirit Box”, would fill the room with white noise, and somehow capture voices they couldn’t hear if the spirits responded to Y/N’s questions.

While she did that in front of a camera set up in front of the living room window, Jeongguk was using his handheld camcorder, taking temperatures around all of the spots in the house. Thankfully, Namjoon would stay with her, helping her make out any sounds or words they could potentially capture. Clearing her throat, she sat on the chair beneath the window, Namjoon just a few feet away on the couch, the low light of the laptop illuminating his face and making his eyes glow.

“I’m gonna take the temperatures upstairs,” Jeongguk’s voice was far away, probably already halfway to his destination, Y/N exhaling slowly as Namjoon gave her a thumbs-up; he had begun recording. She had already memorized her list of basic questions, so she switched the Spirit Box on, cringing at the gnashing sound echoing around the house.

“Is there anyone here that wishes to speak with us?” Y/N began, feeling a little foolish, but pushing down the feeling swiftly. All she heard in response was the white noise, unfortunately.

“What is your name?”

Nothing.

“How old are you?”

Nothing, again.

“Why are you here?”

Then, there was a disruption in the static, something garbly coming through, Y/N’s eyes lighting up as Namjoon began typing on the laptop.

“How many spirits are on this property? Are you alone?”

Growing a little excited, now understanding why Jeongguk was so into these devices, the static was interrupted once more, a frightening but unintelligible response captured through the Spirit Box.

“Who lives here?”

Before Y/N could get too riled up, the rest of her questions received no response, so she and Namjoon elected to move into the hall, trading places with Jeongguk, who was taking pictures of the window and using thermal imaging on the area.

It continued like that for about two more hours, repeating the interview with Namjoon multiple times with the Spirit Box and the EMF detector, the wolf hybrid letting her hold his hand when they were in Tommy’s room. The sounds of the voice that did come through in that space were particularly bone-chilling and grating. The last room, Julie’s room, only yielded one response that was reedy and low, Y/N ready to get the fuck out of dodge as soon as the interview concluded.

Reconvening downstairs, Jeongguk was starting to pack up equipment, and thankfully, he turned on a light or two. He looked charged, like new life was breathed into him. Investigations such as that one must have been his life’s passion, because Y/N hadn’t seen him like that, well, ever. Her and Namjoon were silent as they helped the elk hybrid gather everything up, and while Namjoon seemed calm, she could tell he was on edge due to some of the audio they captured together.

“Get anything?” Jeongguk pushed the last box of cameras into Namjoon’s van, Y/N wilting with exhaustion and nerves, watching her wolf hybrid lock the front door of the Sanders’ house with stiff shoulders, tape recorder under his arm. “We’ll review everything, but I’m pretty sure I captured some anomalies.”

“We had a few responses. Namjoon said he’d put the audio in a program music producers use to try and clarify what we were able to catch. There is definitely more than one entity we’re working with here,” Y/N ran a hand through her hair tiredly.

“Hmm, you’re right,” Jeongguk let her get into the van first, Y/N buckling herself into the passenger seat, thanking the sky she had the next day off. It was nearly five in the morning, and her eyes were crossing. “You did well, Y/N.”

“You too, sweets. You were in your element, huh?”

“I guess,” Jeongguk sobered up, toning down his excitement, Namjoon getting into the driver’s seat heavily, passing a hand over his face.

“Let’s get out of here, I’m drained,” Namjoon pulled out of the driveway, Y/N’s teeth unclenching when he switched on some folksy music and they got away from the house.

“You two are going to need to take some baths when we get back, right away. With that salt I gave you, I don’t want the risk of anything clinging to us,” Y/N leaned her head back, hearing Jeongguk still tinkering away with an electronic in the back of the van.

Namjoon hummed, too tired to respond, but she knew he’d listen to her. Once she explained the importance of making sure they were all properly spiritually cleansed, he hadn’t had a single complaint obeying her requests to take salt baths or enduring Y/N waving rosemary smoke around him. Jeongguk, on the other hand, was a toss up.

All Y/N knew was that she wasn’t exactly eager to find out what the entities were saying to her. Judging by the nastiness of some of the voices they captured, she doubted it was anything friendly. Namjoon said he’d take care of the audio over the course of the week, and Jeongguk was going to comb through his videos, data, and photos as well. All Y/N had to do was sit with the energies she felt and perhaps come up with some kind of plan for cleansings and banishment. Trying to find the moon in the sky, Y/N counted street lights until they were back at their own home, and there was a collective breath of relief from the three of them when they were safe inside.

Before she knew it, it was the end of the week, the day she and Seokjin planned their date. Y/N had come up with something special to do with him during the evening, and she knew they weren’t going to be bothered, she made sure of it. With Namjoon and Jeongguk holed up in the van poring over their evidence still; Taehyung, Yoongi, and Hoseok at the rec center for their clubs, and Jimin outside putting the garden beds together on the finally-thawing ground, they were pretty much by themselves. She was in Seokjin’s bedroom, the lamps dimmed low, and her jaguar hybrid was somewhere in the kitchen, claiming he was making something for them to snack on. Y/N didn’t tell Seokjin what her plan was for them, wanting a nice surprise, so as quickly as she could, she dumped the materials she needed on his neatly made bed.

There was an old white topsheet she found in the depths of one of the linen closets, Y/N shaking it out and tying it to tops of the front two bedposts. The fabric fell, making a large “screen” at the foot of the bed, and with that done in a pinch, she hooked up the mini projector she got on Amazon and stuck it on the shelf behind Seokjin’s headboard.

A cozy, quiet movie night was something she thought Seokjin would enjoy. Meaning to watch Lord of the Rings with him, she had the boxed CD set ready to go, even if they’d probably only get through one of the movies due to the length. Satisfied, she sped into his bathroom, changing into her pajamas– a pair of cotton shorts and a matching tank top. It was likely she’d end up sleeping next to Seokjin that night, so she decided she might as well get comfortable. She was tossing her clothes in his hamper when the sounds of the jaguar hybrid shuffling into his bedroom filled her ears, Y/N smiling at her reflection in his mirror and going out to meet him.

Seokjin, with a curious flicker to his ear, was staring at the sheet she hung, setting a tray down with various snacks and drinks, and of course, a few slabs of the bread he baked that morning. Skipping to his side, Seokjin whirled around, cheeks coloring with how little clothing she was wearing. Seokjin wasn’t a fan of the cold, so his room was always boiling with space heaters going, so she wasn’t about to wear flannel pajamas.

“Pretty, why’d you tie that sheet there?” Seokjin cleared his throat, adjusting his thin tee-shirt by the collar, averting his eyes.

“So we could watch a movie together, I got a projector online. Do you like the sound of that?” Y/N asked, a touch self consciously, sitting on his bed and looking at the tray he brought up. With a pounding heart, she realized most of the snacks he prepared were her favorites.

“Yeah, it’s perfect,” Seokjin insisted, knees landing on the bed softly, fluffing his pillows and moving the stuffed alpaca aside so he could sit against the headboard. “What do you wanna watch?”

“Well, all those months ago, I mentioned wanting to watch Lord of the Rings with you. How about that?”

Seokjin, his bright eyes widening, replayed the memory in his head– when he was recovering from his fever, the day Y/N adopted him, she had lent him that book. He was nodding at once, watching Y/N grin and get on all fours, sliding a disc into the projector, adjusting the volume. He didn’t know if she felt how charged the air felt, tucking her hair behind her ear as she navigated the movie’s menu, his eyes skimming over her figure indulgently. The beginning credits began to roll, the projector displaying the title card of the film pretty well, Seokjin realizing that was why Y/N had dimmed the lights so low.

Y/N got comfortable beside Seokjin at once, curling into his side and tucking herself under his arm, one of hers thrown across his waist. Reminded of a kitten getting cozy in her bed, Seokjin purred, fingertips dancing along her upper arm, the skin like warm silk.

“I… never asked you this, but when I gave you this book, you seemed emotional. Can I ask you why, honey?” Y/N was thoroughly enjoying Seokjin stroking her arm with reverence, his chin resting on top of her head.

“Oh, I suppose that was kind of odd to you at the time,” Seokjin replied, focusing more on her than the movie in the background. Movies never really compared to books, anyways. “It’s just something that I remember… a young kid I grew up with telling me about. You know I’m not a big adventurer, but reading about it, seeing it, I’m comfortable with. Nostalgia sometimes gets to me, that’s all.”

“That’s why you’re so sweet,” Y/N hummed, her breath fanning over his neck, Seokjin giggling at her words. “I felt so bad that day, I didn’t wanna make you cry.”

“You didn’t, you just reminded me that sometimes the world is smaller than I think it is,” Seokjin’s touch migrated to her shoulders, lowly hissing at the tightness in the muscles, Y/N wincing when he pressed over them. “Come here.”

Seokjin cupped her waist, spreading his legs carefully, before rolling her over so she was seated between his thighs, back pressed to his chest. Y/N went stiff, the opposite of what he was trying to do, so he gave her a reassuring, chaste kiss to the crown of her head, pressing his thumbs into the tender sides of her neck. Shuddering when Seokjin dug the digits into two knots that have been giving her grief the entire week, she went limp immediately, not knowing where to put her own hands– settling them idly on her lap.

“You’re tense, let me help you,” Seokjin murmured, Y/N surrounded by his eucalyptus scent, and having him care for her was better than any spa treatment. “You’ve been working too hard, pretty.”

“Uh-uh,” Y/N protested, melting backwards, the sturdiness of his chest actually quite surprising. “Not true– oh.”

Seokjin hit a particularly tender spot, her tight trapezius muscle, and he was seemingly chuckling as he massaged the flesh sensually. He didn’t make a smart retort, even though he could have, but instead he focused on working out every single kink in her neck.

“How did you get so good at this?” Y/N was choking back moans, at that point, barely paying attention to the movie, her temperature rising in the toasty bedroom.

“Well, when I was a performer, I’d have to tend to my own knots and strains,” Seokjin responded, sweeping her hair aside so he could press on either side of her upper spine, Y/N involuntarily arching away from him with a strained whine– one that had heat rising to his cheeks, shamefully. “Guess the skill is finally coming in handy.”

“Seokjin,” Y/N breathed, and the jaguar hybrid thought he heard a slight edge of warning to it, like she was accusing him of being cheeky. After so long, he couldn’t help it.

A few moments went by mostly in silence– apart from the movie’s dialogue and score, and a tiny yelp from Y/N once or twice. Seokjin, even though he couldn’t stand feeling cold, was truthfully getting warm himself, Y/N so pliant in front of him, her hands subconsciously finding purchase on his knees as he worked her back.

“B-baby, I think I’m g-good, uh–” Y/N’s breathing became labored, heat striking through her as he continued the massage under her shoulder blades. “Oh fuck.”

Apparently a very sore spot, Seokjin dug his fingers into her skin with more intensity, and embarrassingly so, Y/N let out a thin, pleading whine, Seokjin’s spine going rigid at the sound.

“Does it feel good?” Seokjin asked, his voice becoming siren-like again, moving to the other shoulder blade and eliciting a similar sound from her.

“W-what do you think?” Y/N was out of oxygen, two seconds away from pinning him to the headboard, Seokjin’s laughter rumbly and deep. “I don’t know if I want you to stop or to–”

Y/N was shamefully turned on at that point. It was hard not to be, she thought, between his proximity and his hands working her into a boneless puddle. Still chuckling, Seokjin removed one of his hands, reaching for the tray on the bed, plucking a strawberry from the bowl and offering it to Y/N, fingers poised before her lips.

Instead of eating it, Y/N looked over her shoulder, face flushed and pupils blown out, an accusatory expression lighting up her features.

“You didn’t mention you’re some sort of Casanova,” Y/N mumbled, overwhelmed by that romantic side of her jaguar hybrid, his ears fluttering playfully. Instead of feeding her, Seokjin ate the strawberry himself, the cool juices of the fruit spilling over his chin and down his neck, Y/N’s sight zeroing in on that visual. “Jesus Christ.”

“What’s wrong?” Seokjin teased once he swallowed the fruit, forcibly turning her back around so he could continue the massage, Y/N freezing when he not only laid his palms on her shoulders again, but his lips pressed a kiss to the top of her spine tenderly, his lips soothing her feverish flesh from the cold fruit he ate.

“Are you aware of how gorgeous you are, Seokjin? It’s borderline disturbingly wrong,” Y/N grouched, squeezing his knees, Seokjin freezing behind her before cracking up into hysterics, arms winding around her middle tightly, sponging kisses along her shoulders in between laughter. “You’re literally a doll!”

Despite his laughter, Y/N could feel his heart speeding up with her words, chest still flush with her back, and she debated whether or not to shut the movie off and just straddle him at that point. Suddenly aware that her panties were starting to get a bit damp, Y/N cursed herself inwardly, not believing how little it took to turn her on. She wondered if the jaguar hybrid could smell it, his sleek black tail laying heavily on one of her bare thighs. Boldly, while Seokjin kneaded her flesh again, she traced her fingers over the silky fur of his tail out of curiosity, Seokjin whimpering behind her, movements freezing.

The atmosphere shifted instantly. She hadn’t gone as far as to touch Yoongi’s tail yet, but with Seokjin’s right in front of her, it was hard to resist stroking through the fur. In consequence, Seokjin’s fingers danced over the straps of her tank top, running his index fingers along the lace.

“Can I… move these just a bit?” Seokjin fiddled with the material, Y/N nodding straight away, hurrying up the process by sliding one of the straps around her bicep, eager for him to tend to her aching shoulders, craving his touch. With a soft intake of air, Seokjin copied her movements on the other side, one hand gliding over the entirety of her exposed upper back, seemingly feeling for more points of tension.

Still stroking through the fur of his tail, her other hand gripping his quilt with pale knuckles, Y/N bit down on her lip when Seokjin rolled his knuckles against her tender skin. Betting every last dollar in her bank account that neither of them gave a single shit what was happening in the movie still playing in front of them, Seokjin used one hand to grab the tray of food on the bed and move it to one of his nightstands distractedly, bending his knees so his feet were flat against the quilt and he could better cage Y/N in.

However, with Seokjin’s movements, Y/N scooching up on the bed to press closer to him, her tank top straps fell to the crooks of her elbows, her eyes shooting wide open as the garment bunched around her waist– and she was not wearing a bra in that moment.

There was a pause, Seokjin’s broad body crooking over hers from behind, where nothing was audible but sounds from the movie. Seokjin was staring at the entirety of her bare back, also realizing she wasn’t wearing anything under her tank top, but he was unable to help himself by gliding his hands from the small of her waist up to her mid-back. The action was smooth, Y/N’s skin somewhat slick with perspiration, Seokjin’s mouth watering. He always considered himself a man of patience, but there was something primal brewing within him, something that was difficult to control.

“Y/N,” Seokjin’s voice was but a breeze in the wind, experimentally digging his fingertips into the base of her spine, relishing in the thready moan she offered to him, one of her forearms pressed over her breasts to preserve her modesty– Seokjin could smell both her arousal and bashfulness filling up the room thickly. “Are you alright?’”

“Keep touching me,” was all Y/N responded with, leaning backwards and removing her arm from her chest, Seokjin focusing straight ahead at the movie blindly.

“How so, pretty girl?” Seokjin groaned, wrecked, his nose tucked into the base of her throat, not moving until she vocalized.

“All over, anywhere,” Y/N whimpered, gasping when Seokjin’s hands snaked around her middle, skimming over her tummy, the jaguar hybrid’s resolve finally dissolving, his lips latching around the junction of her neck and shoulder. “Honey…”

Sucking her flesh into his mouth sensually, Seokjin felt blood rushing to his crotch, the taste of her skin so addicting, he swore he was high. It was the taste of her, yes, that was causing him to descend into a lust-driven frenzy, but also the scent of her love, the scent of her arousal, that was egging him on. Still, the human side of his brain begged him to see through the fog.

“You’re sure?”

“Fuck, yes, Jin, please,” Y/N had annoyance dripping in her tone, one of her palms covering his on her abdomen, guiding it up to her sternum. “Love you, and I want you.”

A switch flipped within Seokjin, one he didn’t know existed, and he stroked the naked sides of her waist with hunger, resuming his task of decorating the slope of her neck with love bites, a strangled noise leaving his throat when Y/N shifted her hips backwards; flush to his.

He was reminded of the previous weekend, Y/N in that dress, grinding into him with carefree abandon– and how he needed to excuse himself to the bathroom before they left to stick his face under the icy tap. He felt perverted, out of control– but a distant, animalistic side of him was saying “she’s the one, the only one” which was enough for him to want to stake his claim.

Seokjin grasped the material of her tank top pooling around her waist, pulling it over her head with care. Once Y/N was free, she keened at the feeling of Seokjin suckling a bruise beneath her earlobe, his hardness pressing up against her ass, the sensation drenching her underwear thoroughly and anticipation climbing to Everest.

Silently, Seokjin nipped the shell of her ear with his sharpened teeth, and before Y/N could fully process that, he was cradling her chest, the weight of her tits in his palms having him groaning and pressing his hips against her ass even more firmly. He had never been so turned on in his life, Y/N totally caged in his embrace, wanting and receptive to everything he had to offer her. This, this, was everything he was waiting to feel his entire life, and he could hardly think straight– Y/N semi-consciously whacking the projector, muting the movie miraculously in favor of hearing the noises Seokjin could make.

Seokjin, caught in a spell, hooked his chin over Y/N’s shoulder, not caring that his back was aching from the prolonged arch, her breasts still cupped in his hands. Experimentally, he pressed them together, finally peering at her exposed chest, his throat rather dry at the sight as he soaked in both her heaving into his grasp, and the marks he had left on the side of her throat and shoulder. Skin lighting up with heat, one of her hands flailed backwards, clawing at Seokjin’s hip– now aware that he was very much completely clothed, all Y/N wanted was his bare skin against hers.

“Easy, kitten,” Seokjin ground out, her fingernails cutting into his flesh even through the material of his sweatpants, Y/N hardly recognizing his hypnotic voice as it reached her ears centimeters away, and what he called her having her lax in his grip like prey.

Her tits still in his palms, lips heavy on her neck, Y/N was about to melt into his mattress completely– breath stolen from her lungs when the jaguar hybrid teasingly swiped his thumbs over her nipples, erect with all of the slow teasing, the sensation sharp and having her jolt in the cage– made out of his limbs– he had trapped her in.

“Tease,” Y/N managed due to the way his forefinger and thumb tweaked the buds, Y/N nearly passing out as he promptly slicked up the fingers of his right hand by sticking them in his mouth. “Jin–”

“Shush,” Seokjin returned, using his dampened digits to roll her right nipple between them, completely entranced. At that point, he felt himself leaking somewhat into his boxers, toying with Y/N’s chest until she was a mess in his lap, peering over her shoulder to see how her body reacted to his touch. “If you let me, I’ll make you feel good. But I want you to listen to me, is that okay?”

Y/N nodded desperately, but it wasn’t enough of a confirmation for Seokjin.

“Mmm-hmm! Yes, Seokjin, I-I– hnngh,” Y/N yelped when he kneaded the sensitive flesh of her breasts again.

“Okay then, lean on me,” Seokjin sucked yet another bruise into the side of Y/N’s throat, enjoying working her up. “You– mmph–”

Y/N had turned her head, seeking out his mouth, eagerly slotting her lips against his with desperation. His arms automatically wrapped around her again, one forearm slung low on her writhing hips, the other barred across her chest, letting her kiss him with abandon. She had wanted to kiss him like that for weeks, swiping her tongue along the seam of his mouth, Seokjin’s lips parting slightly and granting her access. A deep, indulgent moan came from her as she tasted him, sweet like the strawberry he just ate, still clawing at his clothed hips when her tongue slid against his. In return, Seokjin hummed, kissing her back just as freely, letting her take control for a moment. Though, while she was distracted, Seokjin began to fiddle with the waistband of her pajama shorts, a grunt tearing through him when she jerked her hips backwards.

Breaking away from their kiss, Seokjin was transfixed, Y/N attempting to keep her control by going for his neck, even though the twisted position of her body was uncomfortable. Lapping at the sticky trail of strawberry juice along his Adam's apple, Seokjin shuddered at the feeling, her teeth scraping against his throat before she sunk them in, which had his eyes rolling back into his skull.

Taking matters into her own hands, Y/N managed to wiggle out of her shorts, a hand breaking away from Seokjin’s hips, tossing them carelessly off the bed. The jaguar hybrid, sounding utterly fucked out already, tipped his head back and moaned when her ass collided with his lap again. At that point, with the scent of her wetness becoming so concentrated, Seokjin snapped, growling, dangerously, Y/N blinking up at him at once.

“Face forward and watch the movie, pretty,” Seokjin ordered, Y/N’s head spinning. If he didn’t want to continue, that was fine, but she was pretty much naked and she wasn’t about to watch Hobbits traipse through the mud like that. However, that wasn’t the case, Seokjin hooking his chin over her kiss-bitten shoulder, fingertips dipping into the waistband of her panties. “Oh. Did you wear these for me?”

Looking down, confused and still driven crazy by lust, Y/N’s mouth dropped open. Subconsciously, she must have picked out the pink pair of panties Seokjin was teasing her with when they were folding laundry, the gusset of the fabric completely soaked. Lolling her head back against his chest, she looked at him pleadingly, the feeling of him tracing her hip bones driving her insane.

“Aw, poor thing,” Seokjin cooed, kissing her temple with a derisive smirk. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

With that, Seokjin stripped her of her panties in a flash, stuffing the garment into the pocket of his sweatpants, Y/N mewling, turned on by the fact that she was completely bare before him, and he hadn’t shed a single article of clothing. Without wasting too much time, his mouth on her neck again, Seokjin grabbed a hold onto her thighs and propped them up, his breath quickening at the fresh wave of her arousal that surrounded him. Again, Y/N grappled for his tail, just about the only thing she could do wrapped up in his arms like that, cunt clenching around nothing when he moaned hollowly, the appendage curling around her wrist.

Finally, Seokjin ghosted his fingers over where she needed him most, cursing at the wetness that gathered there abundantly, Y/N’s hips bucking over his lap with a cry. Cunt pulsing with his touch, Seokjin bit his lip, parting her dewy folds, the slick sound making Y/N cringe. He didn’t want to tease her too much, she was practically dripping onto his quilt, free hand coming up to pinch a nipple as his index finger made a slow circle around her clit simultaneously.

The action elicited a great reward. Y/N’s spine arched, crying out his name, more wetness gushing out of her. Cooing again, Seokjin kept circling the sweet spot, loving the sounds she made for him, hardly noticing she was scraping her nails against his sensitive tail.

“So wet, kitten,” Seokjin purred, slowly working her up, Y/N’s gut tightening at his dulcet tone, hardly here nor there.

“Feels so good,” Y/N thrashed, stomach flipping over when the movement had his cock pressed right against the seam of her ass. “Ah!”

Seokjin groaned, ignoring his own pleasure in favor of finding her’s, testing the waters by teasing a fingertip around her fluttering entrance. Hearing her pleas, he sunk the digit into her, whimpering at the way she clamped down on him. Y/N rocked her hips, essentially riding his finger, the visual erotic and making him hiss darkly.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” Seokjin encouraged, gripping the side of her waist to aid her desperate movements. “Use me.”

Helping her out, he began to snap his wrist against her, curling his finger and pressing against the front of her walls, Y/N swore she could have died, so crammed full of desire for the jaguar hybrid it was driving her insane.

“M-more, please,” Y/N begged, grinding against his hand, leaking all over him.

“Spoiled little girl,” Seokjin taunted, but despite the jab, he added another digit into the mix while she rode his fingers, his thumb toying with her clit as she felt herself barreling towards her orgasm. “Gonna need to stretch you out, anyways, kitten.”

Gasping, his dirty words was all she needed, her sudden orgasm taking Seokjin by surprise as she wailed in his arms, walls spasming around his fingers as he continued to fuck them into her. The lewd sounds of her wetness had his ears ringing, wanting to taste the mess she made, but he murmured sweet nothings in her ear as she tore through her orgasm instead.

Y/N, panting, grasped his wrist to halt his movements, oversensitive but somehow still needy for him, Seokjin releasing his hold on her and allowing her to turn, climbing over his lap to straddle him with a ravenous look on her face. Seokjin simply stared back, smirking, bringing his slicked-up fingers to his mouth, dutifully cleaning them off and trying not to cum in his pants at the taste of her. To his surprise, a startled moan leaving his lips, Y/N rocked her hips over the hardness beneath his sweatpants, her hands tangled in his shirt.

“Uh, oh, still need more?” Seokjin teased, hands landing on her ass and kneading the flesh, helping her grind against him. “You really are spoiled, aren’t you?”

Y/N had no response but to kiss him, whimpering when his tongue tangled with hers, Y/N sensing that he was slowly beginning to unravel. She wanted nothing more than for him to lose his patience and fuck her senseless, feeling her pussy throbbing over the bulge in his pants. She broke away to mouth down his neck, and when she felt him shiver when she grazed over a particular spot, she sucked a bruise into the flesh, Seokjin’s hips grinding up harshly into her heat.

“Take this off,” Y/N whined, yanking at his flimsy tee shirt, fed up with being the only one naked. Seokjin obliged, letting her strip the article off of him while they continued to rub against one another, sweat dripping from his hairline. “God, you’re so fucking sexy…”

Y/N gaped at the sight in front of her, not expecting Seokjin to be… well, ripped. She had seen his chest before, when she mended the wound on his side, but she was hardly gawking at his solid abs when she was doing so. Hands instantly shooting out to glide along his skin, his muscles rippling under her touch, the jaguar hybrid was panting while she gyrated her hips on his cock.

“No, you,” Seokjin managed, smiling at her despite the situation they were in, Y/N kissing over his prominent clavicles tenderly. “Fuck, pretty girl!”

Y/N moved off of his hips, gawking at the wet patch she left over his gray sweatpants with distant humiliation, making brief eye-contact to ask if she could divest the garment from him. He nodded eagerly, so wound up he could think of nothing else but the scent of her, the love in her eyes, and how perfect she was. In one smooth motion, she shucked both his pants and boxers from his body, her eyes going comically wide at what she saw.

Not only was Seokjin the sweetest man alive, gorgeous, and ripped– he had the biggest dick she ever saw in her life. Truly, he was blessed in all areas, Y/N speechless as she stared at the intimidating length and girth, suddenly understanding why he mentioned needing to stretch him out.

“Seokjin, you’re huge,” Y/N, again, was clenching around nothing, looking up at him with awe. Seokjin had blush in his cheeks that wasn’t due to his arousal and the temperature of the room, Y/N realizing he was bashful. “I– you want my mouth, my–”

“Come here,” Seokjin cut her off, regaining his ability to take control, hooking her around her waist. “I want you to sit on my cock.”

Stunned, Y/N felt her wetness roll down her thighs, and fuck, she was going to need it. She had no objection to that request, maintaining their eye contact as she reached down, grasping his cock, the jaguar hybrid’s ears flattening against his skull as her thumb smeared precum around his tip. Having mercy on him, and neediness taking over her again, she ran him through her folds, dripping over him, whimpering brokenly when he caught on her entrance. Would he even fit?

“You can take it,” Seokjin read her mind, tucking hair behind her ear and kissing beneath her jaw, the words making heat strike through her. “Go slow.”

Swallowing thickly, she lined him up, exhaling shakily as she sunk down, and despite how turned on she was and the sheer wetness spilling from her, the stretch was enough to knock the wind out of her. Taking over, guiding her by her waist, Seokjin grit his teeth as she took him inch by inch, her chest heaving. It was a tight fit, enough to have Seokjin seeing stars, Y/N’s thighs shaking on either side of him. He was telling her to breathe when she was fully seated in his lap, cock throbbing inside of her as she adjusted to his size, kissing over her face soothingly.

“Move when you’re ready kitten, okay?” Seokjin himself was a bit starved for oxygen, Y/N cupping his face and pressing a kiss on his lower lip, tongue flicking over the flesh.

Regaining her ability to function, eyes going round when she looked down– she pressed a hand over her lower abdomen, the slightest bump there, the action having Seokjin hissing. Darkness was in his eyes when her walls fluttered around him, and with that, Y/N gave an experimental roll of her hips, both of them moaning in tandem as he slid out an inch.

“F-fuck, Jin,” Y/N whined, getting a hold on his broad shoulders to ride him properly, lifting herself up only to drop back down harshly, feeling like he was spearing into her guts.

Entirely overwhelmed, Seokjin leaned forward, wrapping his lips around one of her nipples while she fucked herself on his cock, happy to let her chase her pleasure, to provide it. Y/N’s head was thrown back, entirely gone, Seokjin’s name leaving her lips like a prayer when he stroked a thumb over her clit, bracing her hands on his knees again to switch up the angle, one that gave Seokjin quite a show and had his cock rubbing against her G-spot deliciously.

“Look at you,” Seokjin awed, his hips beginning to buck up to meet her strokes, taking his cock like a saint. “Fuck. So pretty, so perfect.”

With Seokjin fucking into her like that, his steady circles over her clit, she was gone again with a slam and grind onto his lap, an elastic band snapping within her as she stilled, collapsed against Seokjin’s chest as she felt herself gush.

“Holy fucking hell,” Seokjin groaned, his lap soaked, Y/N’s pussy clamping down so hard on him his vision was turning white.

Y/N couldn’t move anymore, throat strained from her cries, convulsing against her. The world was turning as she caught her breath, somehow still aroused, and she found herself on her back, Seokjin sucking a deep bruise into her neck. Still nestled inside of her, throbbing, Y/N wound her arms around the jaguar hybrid, hands sliding into his hair.

“Fuck me,” Y/N breathed against his lips, and that was all Seokjin needed to release that last scrap of control he had over himself.

Snapping his hips forward, Y/N’s cunt swollen and sensitive, she wailed, feeling him in her throat. The new position was intimate, Seokjin pretty much laying most of his body weight on top of her, murmuring things in her ear that she could only make out bits and pieces of.

“Gonna cum soon,” he groaned, driving into her, Y/N sinking her teeth into his shoulder.

“Cum inside me,” she requested, the discussion about her IUD already out of the way days ago. “P-please.”

“Oh yeah? You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Seokjin teased, though the request had the predator in him coming alive. “Want me to stuff you full so you can have my cubs?”

Shock flooded through Y/N at that question, not expecting Seokjin to be like that, and shamefully she felt herself clenching around him again. Seokjin must have felt it, because he grunted, hips stuttering.

“You’d look so beautiful,” Seokjin sighed, Y/N’s eyes rolling back, sliding her fingers over his silky ears. “Fuck, I love you, my pretty girl, my love, gonna give it to you–”

With a final thrust, Seokjin went still, kissing Y/N harshly, heat filling her as he spilled into her cunt, the jaguar hybrid whimpering. Miraculously, the sensation of him cumming so deeply inside of her had a smaller, less intense orgasm shuddering through her, leaving her utterly spent and exhausted. Seokjin himself was breathing like he ran a marathon, Y/N holding him weakly as he pulled himself together.

“You’re insane,” Y/N accused once she caught her breath, covered in sweat, saliva, and cum, her poor pussy battered and sensitive. “I won’t be able to walk for three days.”

Seokjin giggled, actually giggled, after how devilish he had just behaved, placing an apologetic kiss on her jaw.

“Was I too rough?” Seokjin became serious, worry etched in his eyebrows.

“No, you were perfect,” Y/N insisted, cupping the side of his face. “I love you, honey.”

Hiding his face in her neck, he returned the sentiment, both of them content to sit in their mess for a few minutes to hold each other, Seokjin’s tail curling behind him languidly.

“We watched about five minutes of that movie,” Y/N commented, twirling a lock of his wavy hair around a finger with a snort. “That was a hell of a first date!”

“There’s always next time,” Seokjin replied, finally rolling off of her, Y/N wincing at what they had to clean up. “I’m gonna get some things to clean you up, can you have a few sips of that water for me, pretty?”

Y/N, bonelessly, reached for the forgotten snack platter, greedily gulping the water down her scraped-up throat, watching Seokjin walk to his dresser. With a secret smile, she stared at his ass, munching on a strawberry. He only took a few minutes to gather his items: a few damp cloths, two pairs of his pajamas, and a fresh quilt to replace the one that had unspeakable fluids all over it.

Lovingly, Seokjin cleaned her up, cooing when she winced at the sensitivity between her legs, doing the same to himself and dressing the two of them in his soft pajamas. Y/N only had to stand for a few seconds while he changed the quilt, pulling it back so they could get in.

They ended up in the same position they were originally in, Y/N curled into his side, Y/N turning the projector off of mute in an attempt to pick up wherever the movie was, her eyes catching on something sitting on one of the pillows.

“Oh my god. The alpaca watched us fuck!” Y/N exclaimed, pointing at the plushie, making Seokjin’s squeaky laugh fill the room, Y/N smacking him lightly on his chest. “Why do we keep scandalizing the innocents?”

“Our cross to bear,” Seokjin shrugged, brushing his lips over one of the love bites he left behind.

Holding her close, they chatted about the movie, ate some snacks, and after about an hour, fell asleep intertwined– the projector still rolling on, and rain falling gently outside.

“I think I’ve figured out the audio,” Namjoon invited Y/N into his room days later, once she untangled herself from Seokjin in the morning and completely rinsed their sins off of her body. “Everything we captured last week.”

Namjoon’s expression was worrying her, his eyebrows pinched, sitting at his desk and chin in his hand. He had been slaving over a digital audio workstation all week, hardly making it to mealtimes, Y/N even hearing him pacing around his room late at night.

“Is it bad?”

Namjoon gave her a look, one that said everything she needed to know, leaning against his desk.

“Did Jeongguk listen?”

“He listened this morning,” Namjoon said carefully, Y/N wondering why he wasn’t present. “Due to what we ended up capturing, he went upstairs to consult his old journal. I haven’t seen him since.”

“Let’s hear it, then,” Y/N bit her lip nervously, not liking his clear reluctance. With a sigh, he pressed on the space bar.

“What is your name?”

Static.

“How old are you?”

More static.

“Why are you here?”

Listening to her recorded voice had her cringing, but finally, there was a response to the third question.

“Watching.” The voice was creepy, low, and made her queasy, but what was said had her skin crawling.

“How many spirits are on this property? Are you alone?”

“Many are here.”

Y/N glanced at Namjoon, a little confused. Sure, the responses made her uneasy, but they weren’t so bad to warrant how hesitant he looked.

“Okay, creepy, but expected, right?” She asked, nudging him with her foot.

“There’s more. I didn’t want to show you, but Jeongguk insisted,” Namjoon said flatly, expression darkening. “Actually, I don’t think you, specifically, should even go back to that house.”

“What? Namjoon, you’re freaking me out. Just show me,” Y/N blinked, Namjoon scrolling on the workstation to a highlighted section.

“This is when we were in Julie’s room,” Namjoon murmured, pressing play.

“Why are you here?” Y/N’s voice came through the speakers, Y/N recalling they only got one response in that room.

“To kill you, whorish witch.”

Taglist; @blancflms @grazysf @sbromp @jaxavance @sunderlight @ot7nem @mageprincess7 @wittyreader @drenix004 @mayla548 @skyys-universe @ddaeng-angmoh @trtlthts @exfolitae @kalala22 @xiusmarshmallow @bangtans-momma @zae007live @paigetj @singukieee @serendididy @lilacdreams-00 @dreamerwasfound @ninjacups @osakis-gf @itwillbealways-d @xthefuckerysquaredx @momowantscats @molshole @goooomz @uarmyhore @lopprhe @oopscoop @xicanacorpse @i-like-anime13 @hemziii @demarie04 @im-sinking-in-mud @talkyoongitome @bangtxnbxunch @primrose2507 @kihyunniesmonbebe @7evensin @lilmxchis @00ihatesnaku @neverthefirstchoice @missyoueverysingleday @cathy-1997 @prybts @doublebunv @milopenne @steadycreationangel @rinkud @minjianhyung

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theeafterparty444 · 24 days ago

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The Dress and the Dirt

Remmick x Black Fem OC

Chapter 1 | Masterlist| Next →

Summary: In Saint-Domingue—what the world will one day call Haiti—on a plantation named Bellerose, silence is survival and obedience is currency. Solène has learned to keep her voice low and her head bowed under the weight of slavery. But one night changes everything.

Haunted by the scent of something sweet and rotting, wrapped in a dress that doesn’t belong to her, she steps into the darkness—away from his house and toward something older, deeper, and burning quietly inside her.

As ancestral warnings echo in her ears and rage simmers beneath her skin, Solène begins to understand that the fire they spoke of isn’t just a metaphor—it’s legacy. And it’s waking up.

W/c: 4.5k

A/N: I’ve been itching to write a fanfic for a while now, but honestly, nothing really sparked that deep creative pull—until Sinners came out. I fell in love instantly. I watched it twice in one week (no regrets). The plot, the characters, the setting—everything just clicked.

What really pulled me in, though, was how much room there is to explore without feeling boxed in. It feels like a universe begging for more stories, and for once, I didn’t feel like I'd have a horde of die-hard fans breathing down my neck for taking creative risks. So here it is—my spin on the world of Sinners.

This is just chapter one of... well, I have no idea how many. I’m going with the flow and seeing where it takes me—and I hope you’ll come along for the ride.

Heads up: This story explores some heavy and intense topics like slavery, violence, and death. There are also scenes involving sexual assault, manipulation, and explicit smut later on. If any of that feels overwhelming or triggering, please take care of yourself while reading. Thanks for being here and sharing this journey.

I crushed the last of the guinea hen weed between the mortar and pestle, slow, careful not to wake the children sleeping nearby. The scent rose like a warning — sharp and green, like fire before it burns. Mambo Céline always said the bitterer the smell, the stronger the spirit inside.

I didn’t hum. Didn’t speak. Only listened — to the sigh of the pot, the weight of the dark, and the breath of old Manmi Rénette slumped on the floor, clutching her knees in pain. The field had taken her back again, and it never gave gentle.

I tossed the leaves into the boiling water. Then reached under the hearthstone for the small clay jar I’d hidden there. My castor oil — pressed with my own hands three moons ago. He let me keep it, said it was “good for show.”

He meant good for pretending I was human.

I poured a little into my palm, rubbed it warm between my hands, and knelt beside her.

“Lift y’wou,” I whispered.

She didn’t move at first. I saw it in her eyes — not just pain, but shame. Not because I was touching her legs, but because I still had strength to kneel.

I rubbed the oil gently into her knees, then her calves, tracing small circles like Maman taught me. Her breath slowed. The shaking stopped.

“You got hands like your mother,” she muttered.

My throat tightened. I said nothing.

Outside, the cane rats shrieked. Farther off, a dog barked — maybe chasing shadows, maybe something more. Whispers had been growing in the fields. Whispers of fire. Of blood. Of names written in salt and ash. Names like Boukman.

But in this moment, all I had was oil and leaf. Pain and bone. And the promise of something older than this plantation.

“Drink this,” I said, handing her the tin cup. The tea was bitter. It always was.

She drank, her eyes on me. “When it starts,” she said, voice low, “you gon’ be ready?”

I didn’t answer.

But in the silence between her question and my heartbeat, I knew: the roots were already moving beneath the soil.

And then — “Solène,” came a voice from the shadows outside.

I turned, hand tightening around the basin’s rim.

It was Ti-Jean her cousin by way of her mother’s sister. Eyes darting, breath shallow. He looked like he’d seen death and outrun it — just barely.

“I found something,” he whispered, glancing toward the quarters. “In the ashes near the old sugar house. Hidden under a stone.”

He passed me a bundle wrapped in burlap. Not food. Not a blade.

Paper.

Fine, creased, torn at the edges. The kind only they used. The kind that smelled like sweat and power.

I unfolded it. Soot clung to the ink. French. Formal. Tight, hurried script.

“To Monsieur Lafontaine of Cap-Français— The unrest among the slaves spreads faster than our efforts to contain it. Already, the field hands whisper of revolt. Last week, one of mine spoke of a nightwalker from the hills — a ‘blan’ with fire in his eyes and no shadow. They say he drinks the blood of the cruel. I do not believe in superstition, but even my overseers are shaken.” “We must discuss alternatives.” Signed, C.D.

The ink shimmered faintly where it hadn’t burned.

‘Night walker’? I asked, though my mouth already tasted metal.

Ti-Jean shrugged. “I don’t know. But he don’t sound like a soldier.”

No.

Not a soldier.

Something older.

Something worse.

“Burn it after you read it,” he said. “I only showed you because you read better than any of us.”

“I won’t keep it,” I whispered.

But I wouldn’t forget it either.

He nodded once and slipped back into the dark.

I watched the flames lick the paper’s edges as I dropped it into the hearth. It curled like something alive. For a breath, the fire flared blue. Then died too fast.

Outside, the dogs had started howling again.

The night had taken what it wanted, but the morning would belong to her.

At the break of dawn — just before the bell tolled and the overseer’s boots scraped the dirt — Solène rose like the sun herself.

Like most mornings.

Before the bells.

Before the sun.

Before the horror.

The hut was a box. A stifling, rotted box that coughed heat even before the sun had the chance. Maybe twenty-five bodies stuffed wall to wall, shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip — too close to think, too tight to forget.

The air inside was thick. Salt-sour. It clung to the back of her tongue. The perfume of unwashed bodies, damp earth, dried blood, and shame.

Two of the women were bleeding this week — not from wounds, but the other kind. Monthly. Heavy. And the rags weren’t clean. One sat hunched in the corner on her haunches, arms wrapped tight around her belly, rocking, silent. Another already had the dark stain spreading down her thigh.

No one spoke on it. Pain had no novelty here.

Solène peeled back the ragged cloth that passed for a curtain and let in the morning haze. Pale light slanted across the fields — still empty, still sleeping. For now.

She turned and moved through the crowded room with careful steps, her feet avoiding elbows and feet, until she reached the far wall, where Manmi Rénette lay curled like a comma.

“Manmi,” she whispered, kneeling beside her. “Time to rise. The bell gon’ ring soon.”

The old woman groaned low, her back rising slow like a tide. Solène took the scarf folded near her head — old cotton, fraying at the edges — and helped lift it over the woman’s silver hair, tucking the corners under her chin with practiced care.

“You always had soft hands,” Manmi muttered, breath thin. “Don’t mean they clean.”

Solène didn’t flinch, didn’t answer. Just helped her up until she was sitting upright against the wall.

Behind them, a cough rang out. Another woman stirred, dragging herself up with a hiss. The room shifted — a collective ripple of bodies readying for the whip of the day.

Solène stood, brushed the dirt off her skirt, smoothed the folds flat with both hands. She didn’t wear the fine dresses her father’s house brought in for his daughters. But her cotton was better. Not new, just not shredded. Enough to draw eyes.

A mutter to her left. A woman, no older than Solène, squinting at her through narrowed lids.

“Fille du diable,” the girl spat beneath her breath.

Devil’s daughter.

Solène pretended not to hear. She was used to the looks. Not white enough to be free, not Black enough to belong. Her father’s blood had given her nothing but grief — and the gift of French and ink and paper. He gave her his name. His language. His rage. No one thanked her for that. Not even her own skin.

A moment passed. Then—

CLANG.

The bell.

A shudder ran through the room. That sound meant one thing: roll call. Pain followed quick.

Solène pressed her scarf flat against her scalp, smoothed it once, then turned to help Manmi to her feet.

“You ready?” she asked.

Manmi’s breath wheezed through her teeth. “Don’t matter. They gon’ beat us whether we ready or not.”

They stepped toward the door. Outside, the air was colder — but only just. The fields loomed in the distance, a promise of what the sun would burn. And beyond that, something darker, waiting to wake.

The cane rose high this week — tall, thick stalks that gleamed green and gold in the morning sun. Heavy with sweetness. Heavy with blood.

Harvest time.

The machetes had been passed out just after roll call — metal too dull for ease, too sharp to be handled carelessly. Solène’s palms already ached, blistered over old wounds. The scars never had time to finish their stories.

The sun had barely cleared the hills, but heat already pressed down like a second skin. No clouds, no breeze. Only the rustle of cane, the hiss of insects, and the sharp ring of steel hacking flesh from stalk.

She moved in rhythm — chop, twist, drag, pile. Again. Again. The muscles in her back moved like rope, smooth and hardened from years of this same motion. She was slim, yes — but strong. Strong like the women who raised her. Strong like the soil.

Her skin was dark like roasted coffee, kissed deeper each year by the sun, but the undertones marked her — hints of someone else’s legacy. Her father’s blood. Her face was sharper than most, nose narrow, cheekbones high. Her hair curled tight at the root, looser at the ends, usually kept hidden under a scarf. Today, it was twisted in two braids wrapped close against her scalp to keep the sweat off her neck.

She knew her birthday was coming — not by date, but by cane.

The cane always came ripe when the winter flowers began to bloom — those soft lavender things that sprouted along the edge of the southern fence. She’d spotted the first one yesterday, nodding toward the field like a secret. The flowers always arrived just before her birthday. Or the week of it. It wasn’t a real celebration, not here. But in her chest, she held onto the mark of it like a charm. Some small piece of her that hadn’t been crushed by work or shame.

“Keep workin,” barked a voice down the row.

She snapped back to attention. The overseer’s eyes swept over her — not lingering, not yet. Just checking. Just waiting for someone to fall behind.

She turned her head, subtle, just enough to spot Manmi Rénette two rows over, stooped low, her arm dragging with the blade. Slower than yesterday. Slower than they liked.

Solène watched her through a haze of worry and dust. The older woman was more bone than flesh now. The years had taken her softly, then cruelly. But she was still here. Still cutting. Still breathing. Solène prayed she could hold on until noon, at least. If she collapsed now…

She didn’t let the thought finish.

The cane snapped clean beneath her blade.

A cry rose behind them — short, sharp. Then silence.

One of the younger ones — no older than twelve — had tripped, likely, or moved too slow. The punishment from roll call still fresh in everyone’s mind. That boy this morning — forced to kneel in the dirt while they tied his hands above the fencepost, left in the sun like a dog. His back was already a ruin before the whip even kissed it.

Solène hadn’t looked then. Not directly. She’d watched the dirt instead. But the sounds had followed her. They always did.

“Pick up the pace,” snarled the overseer.

She did. Not because she feared him — she feared nothing now, not even death. But she couldn’t afford to draw more eyes. Not today. Not when the flowers were blooming. Not when the soil felt ready.

She pressed her lips together, moved her feet deeper into the mud, and swung again.

Chop. Twist. Drag. Pile.

Sugar in the air. Blood on her hands. Fire in her bones.

And somewhere beyond the rows, something old was waking.

Noon came with no mercy.

The sun hung high above the sugar fields, blinding and bloated, as if feeding on their sweat. The air shimmered with heat, the kind that pressed into your lungs and stayed there. The bell rang twice — sharp and shrill — calling the workers to rest, if one could call it that.

The “meal” was more of a ritual: boiled plantain, sometimes cornmeal if the stocks hadn’t rotted, always lukewarm, always gritty. Most ate in silence, too tired or too watchful to waste words. Solène sat near the edge of the shade, her bowl untouched.

Manmi Rénette trembled as she lowered herself down beside her.

“Give me your bowl,” Solène said softly.

“I still got two hands,” Manmi muttered, but she passed it over anyway. Her joints cracked as she shifted. “They just scream a little louder these days.”

Solène knelt, scooping the food gently and lifting it to the older woman’s mouth. Manmi chewed slow, the corner of her lips twitching with annoyance and gratitude in equal measure.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Manmi said, squinting up at her. “You think you the only one that know how to fuss?”

Solène smirked and kept feeding her.

Near the cane stack, two men whispered too loud — their voices edged with panic and salt. Solène didn’t turn her head, only shifted her ear, feeding Manmi another scoop while pretending not to listen.

“I’m tellin’ you—bone dry,” the first said, low and quick. “Not a drop of blood. Like something sucked it clean.”

“What kind of thing you talkin’ ‘bout?” said the second.

“A horse. And two goats. Over at de Rochambeau place. Just the other night.”

Solène froze mid-motion.

“You think it was dogs?” the second man asked.

“Nah,” the first hissed. “They say it ain’t dogs. It ain’t no animal. Heard one of they houseboys saw it. Pale man, white like chalk, walkin’ out the stable with red on his mouth. No shadow.”

“No shadow?”

“I swear on my mama’s grave. And now the blan master over there say we did it. Blamed the stable hands. Cut one boy’s hand off this morning.”

Manmi sucked her teeth.

“They always look for a reason to bleed us,” she muttered, more to herself than anyone else. “Even if they gotta make up monsters to do it.”

Solène’s eyes were locked on the dirt. A pale man with red on his mouth. No shadow. Something twisted in her belly — not fear exactly, but something colder.

“They callin’ it a nightwalker,” said the first man. “Say it drinks the cruel. One of ‘em even claimed it talk like French nobility. Said it asked ‘permission’ to come inside. What kind of ghost got manners?”

They laughed — too loud, too nervous. Then fell quiet again.

Solène finally handed the last of the food to Manmi and sat down beside her, close enough to feel the heat rolling off the older woman’s skin.

“Sounds like a tale to me,” Manmi muttered, wiping her mouth with her scarf.

“Maybe,” Solène said. Her voice was quiet. Almost unsure.

“You lookin’ too hard at shadows again, girl.”

Solène didn’t answer.

She watched a fly land on her boot, then dart away. The laughter had stopped. Even the birds had gone silent for a beat. Like the land itself was listening.

“Still,” Manmi said, settling back with a grunt, “if such a thing walkin’ round drinkin’ masters dry, I say let it drink its fill.”

Solène smiled — only a little. And just for a moment.

Then the bell rang again.

Rest was over.

And the soil was still thirsty.

The day had ended like all the others — beneath a red sky and the weight of another body buried by the sun. But instead of the rows of the cane and the cracked-voiced call of the bell, I walked with an overseer’s shadow pressed against mine.

To the house.

Always through the back.

The big white house sat smug as a saint on a hill, fat columns catching the last gold of daylight. It smelled too sweet inside. Always did. Like boiled peaches and liquor and death. The kind of sweet that turned in your stomach if you thought about it too long.

I didn’t look up. Didn’t speak. Just counted the steps. Twenty-one, exactly, from the back kitchen door to the stairwell. Then up.

By the time we reached the bathroom, the girl was already waiting — another tired thing in a dress too clean for the life she lived. I didn’t know her name. She never said it. She just nodded once and moved like she had a clock in her bones.

The bath steamed gently. Warm. Always warm. Always ready.

She helped me undress. Her hands worked fast, like she wasn’t really touching me at all. But I felt it — every tug, every unfastened string — like a thread unwinding inside my chest. There was no modesty in it, no kindness. Just routine.

I sat in the water. Let it scald the dirt and ache from my skin. She poured water over my head. Washed my back with a soft cloth. I hated it. Hated the way my arms stayed at my sides like I didn’t own them. Hated the way her hands trembled just slightly — the same way mine used to.

When it was done, I stood and dried. She handed me the white dress. Always white. No shoes. Hair loose.

The white made my skin look darker. Made me feel like a stain on linen.

Then came the dining room.

Long table. Two plates. One at each end.

The room never changed. Oil paintings of dead men. A gold chandelier hanging too low. Candlesticks burning even though the light outside hadn’t faded yet. Two servants stood at the corners — a man and a woman. Still as statues. Trained, they’d say.

But if you looked long enough, if you blinked just right, you could see the tired hiding in their eyes.

I sat. Back straight. Hands folded.

And I waited.

I let my mind drift — not to the fields, not to the cane, not to Manmi’s hand as I fed her, not even to the whispers of the nightwalker draining men dry. I let it drift to a blank place, a cold one.

Until the doors opened.

And he stepped through.

My father.

He was tall, always taller than I remembered. Broad in the chest, his dark hair slicked and parted just so. A waistcoat of deep burgundy over a crisp, ruffled shirt — French-styled, gold buttons, ivory cravat tied tight. Black breeches, polished boots. Smelled like tobacco, pomade, and something sticky-sweet beneath it. Like overripe fruit.

His mustache twitched when he smiled.

“Bonsoir, ma fille,” he said like a prayer.

My hands curled beneath the table, nails digging into my palms.

He gave me his name.

His language.

His rage.

And none of it ever made me less a slave.

He sat down slowly, like the room belonged to him — like the air itself had to bow before it reached his lips. A servant poured the wine. Another laid down a fresh plate of roasted quail, sweet potatoes, and sugared citrus. She didn’t look at me. None of them ever did.

He cleared his throat.

“Seulement le français,” he reminded me softly. “Tu es une demoiselle, pas une paysanne.” Only French. You are a lady, not a peasant.

That was one of his rules. Maybe his favorite one. No Creole. No broken tongue. No trace of my mother in my mouth.

I nodded. “Oui, Père.”

He began talking, slicing his quail into even pieces, hands moving like the gears of a clock. The harvest numbers, the barrels being loaded, the delay from Cap-Français — all of it swirled in and out of meaning. I understood the words but not the weight. I didn’t think I was supposed to.

So I let myself drift again.

Watched the way his fingers curved around the silver fork, the way the candlelight caught the edge of his wedding band. His movements were graceful, like a man playing piano with meat and bone.

A plate was set before me. Still steaming. My stomach ached.

I reached for the fork.

“Non.” His voice was gentle. Smiling. “Les dames ne parlent pas la bouche pleine.” Ladies do not speak with their mouths full.

I pulled my hand back. Let it rest on the linen. White on brown. His rules were always dressed in silk.

The food sat in front of me. Untouched. Mocking.

He finished half his plate, wiped his mouth with a cloth, and sat back, wine glass turning between his fingers.

Then, he looked at me.

Not like a father.

Not like anything decent.

His eyes dragged over my face, down the slope of my collarbone, then back again. A look too long to be casual. Too slow to be innocent.

“You know,” he said, swirling the glass between his fingers, “your birthday is soon.”

My stomach tightened. I said nothing.

He nodded to himself, eyes still on me like I might turn into something else if he stared hard enough. “Yes… 23. Born in the year of the storm, just after Toussaint escaped from Bréda.”

His voice curled at the edges, proud, like he was reciting a fine fact. Like he hadn’t hidden me for half my life behind locked doors and linen skirts.

“Twenty-three,” he repeated. “A woman now. I can see it in your face. In the way you walk.”

I kept my eyes down.

He reached for another bite of food, chewed, swallowed, then wiped the corner of his mouth again. That same white cloth. It never touched me, but I still felt dirty from looking at it.

“Sing for me.”

My mouth dried. I didn’t answer.

He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on the polished wood of the table. “Come now,” he said. “Your mother gave you that voice. It would be a shame to waste it.”

The silence stretched. He was waiting.

I could feel the other two — the servants in the corners — stiffen like statues. But no one would stop him. Not here. Not in this house that smiled with its teeth.

So I opened my mouth.

And I sang.

Softly. A lullaby in French. About moonlight. About roses. The kind of song meant for babies, or graves.

But every note felt like a betrayal.

He watched me the whole time. Like he could see the music drip off my lips and wanted to catch it with his tongue. His leg shifted beneath the table. His breathing slowed.

The candles flickered. The food went cold.

And I kept singing — not because I wanted to.

But because I had learned how to survive.

Because silence, sometimes, was louder than anything.

The door shut behind her with a soft click, but it felt like thunder in her ears.

Solène stood in the hallway a moment too long, still wearing the white dress, still smelling of that sweet rot that clung to every corner of the house. That house… his house.

She walked, slow, careful not to make the floorboards groan. Not that anyone would care. But she needed to be quiet—needed something small to control.

Down the narrow servant stairs. Past the kitchens, now empty but still warm. Through the back door and out into the night, where the air at least didn’t watch her with hunger.

The moon was high. Winter flowers swayed near the fence posts, just barely open. They never bloomed all the way. Not here.

She reached the tree by the old cane press and finally let her hands tremble.

She knelt, fingers clawing into the dirt. Not weeping. Not even breathing hard. Just still. Like the earth might hold her together if she dug deep enough.

She hated that dress. Hated how it clung to her skin. She hated the way her voice still rang in her ears. Hated how he listened—like she was a thing made just for him.

She yanked the scarf from her hair and let the curls fall wild over her face. It made her feel like herself again. Like her mother. Like someone no one could own.

She pressed her forehead to her knees and sat there, holding the rage inside her like a hot coal. Quiet. Alive.

Manmi always said the fire would come.

By the time her legs could move again, the fire in her chest had cooled to embers, just enough to carry her back home.

The hut was thick with heat and silence when Solène stepped inside. A few women sat hunched near the coals, others already flat on the dirt floor, arms across their stomachs, eyes closed like corpses too tired to die.

She looked around once.

“Where’s Manmi?” she asked.

No answer.

Her voice cut through the stale air again. “Where’s Manmi Rénette?”

A smirk curled on Célia’s face—sharp-boned, sharp-tongued. “Why you askin’ like you don’t already know?”

Solène blinked. “What?”

“They took her,” another woman muttered from the back. “Sick house.”

“No…” Solène stepped forward, heart kicking. “She was just—just movin’ slow, that’s all—”

“Exactly,” Célia snapped. “Too slow. No good for the cane. Overseer said she ain’t no use now. So they dragged her off like old meat.”

Solène froze. “But she—she’s not—”

“She’s not dead, not yet,” a third voice cut in. “But don’t pretend like you care all of a sudden. You wasn’t here when they came.”

“She didn’t even scream,” someone else muttered. “Just looked up and said, ‘Tell my baby keep her back straight.’ Then gone.”

That landed like a punch.

Solène opened her mouth—but Célia beat her to it. “How was your fancy dinner, mèt kay?” Her voice dripped with poison. “The dress suit you nice. Real white.”

Another woman chuckled low, but it wasn’t warm. “Don’t stain it now. Hate for sugar to turn red.”

Solène’s hands curled into fists. “You think I asked for this? You think I get a choice?”

Célia’s eyes narrowed. “You got more choice than we do. That’s enough.”

Solène swallowed the heat in her throat, let her arms drop, and turned. She walked out. Not another word.

Outside, the night wrapped around her like a wet sheet. The stars didn’t bother shining, and the wind was dead. The dirt under her feet remembered every step she took.

She followed the dark path to the sick house—low and sunken like a dying animal. The air near it was still, wrong. Two overseers sat outside, chewing tobacco, boots up, rifles close. One spit in the grass. The other laughed at something that never sounded funny.

Solène stayed low in the brush, heart caught between beats.

She couldn’t get in.

And even if she did, what could she do?

Manmi wasn’t dead. Not yet. But everyone knew the sick house was just the waiting room before you were.

Tears blurred her vision. She blinked hard. No good crying here. No good feeling anything here.

She turned back down the path. Her legs moved without thinking, dragging her away from the house. Away from the guards. From what she couldn’t fix.

That’s when she heard it.

Not crickets. Not night birds. Not wind.

A shuffling. A drag. Like skin over bark. Like wet cloth being pulled across gravel.

She stopped.

Looked behind her.

Nothing.

Then the woods moved.

Not the trees.

Something inside them.

The forest near the cane fields had gone silent.

Too silent.

Then a flicker of movement. Low to the ground. Then upright. Then—gone.

Solène’s breath caught in her throat.

She turned her head slowly, carefully.

Nothing.

But the feeling pressed against her spine.

Like being watched from behind a wall of breath.

And then—

A sound. No louder than a sigh. But close.

Right at her ear.

Not a word.

Just the weight of something that should not be there.

She stumbled back, heart kicking like a trapped bird. Eyes wide. Still nothing in front of her.

Then the trees moved again—only this time, they didn’t move at all.

Something inside them shifted.

Gone in a blink. Like it had never been there at all.

But the feeling stayed.

Something had passed by.

And it saw her.

#remmick #sinners 2025 #sinners movie #remmick sinners #remmick x oc #black fem reader #black female oc #remmick smut #slow burn #smut #jack o'connell #sinners #remmick fluff #fluff #light angst #angst

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lovemomhatepolice · 1 year ago

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charles leclerc nswf alphabet (part 2!) (minors DNI!)

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N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) There is no question of any degradation. Never in his life would Charles turn to you - whether during sex or in normal functioning - in an offensive way. No sluts, whores, bitches. To him, you are the queen and mistress of his heart, so that's not an option. O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) Honestly, it depends on your mood. Sometimes he can't get away from you and all he would do is spend time between your legs (you can't accuse him of lack of talent, the boy knows what he's doing) and not pull away. However, he also likes it when you take the initiative and take care of him. Especially if you both have developed such a mode that you are damn satisfied. P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) Here, in the same way, I can say that it depends on the mood. Mostly, however, he puts on intimate, hot close-ups that are so infused with romance that one could even dream of such…. But if you just ask him to be faster or harder, he won't refuse. Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) Despite his fondness for romantic close-ups, he is not opposed to quick rounds. If you just don't have much time, and you're already both bursting from lack of touch, definitely a quickie in the toilet is a great opportunity for him to be able to feel all of you. However, it's definitely more common for you to have quick oral sex when a man dives under your dress or you go on your knees. R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.) Since Charles told you directly that he would like to have children with you, you happened to have sex once or twice without any protection - to his disappointment, it didn't work out. And as for the risk of space, Charles tends to shy away from that. He loves to show that you are together and love each other, but the sexual sphere is only for your eyesight. S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?) I think so 2-3 rounds at ease. I do not think more is needed here. Your sex mostly lasts quite long because of the techniques you use to make it better and longer, so don't need more than 2 rounds mostly. T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) No. I don't feel like Charles has any toys or wants to use them in his relationship with you. Don't take me wrong - Charles is not the type who would be jealous of toys, however, he doesn't feel the need to own them. He is not against them - on the opposite, if you do own one, it will definitely come from his lips at some point that you should show him how these wonders work on your body… U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Oh, Charles on the one hand loves teasing you and on the other hand hates doing it. It all depends on the moment - if it's a quick round, there's no time for teasing either. If you have intoxicating romantic sex, he mostly doesn't do it either. But when it comes down to it, and it's Charles who is on his knees in front of you, oh my gosh! He loves it when you're one big moaning pile in front of him.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) The middle of the Leclerc siblings loves to pay compliments during intercourse. Sam also constantly shows how good you are to him, but I wouldn't say it's somehow super loud. Yes, his mouth often opens with a loud breath or moan, but it's mostly you who are louder, which doesn't bother him at all… W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character) A man loves the sight of you on your knees in front of him. It's really never been a big deal to him in his life, but if it's YOU kneeling in front of him with the intention of doing him good, you don't have to wait long for the finale… X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) Not too big, not too small - a little larger than standard. The main thing is that it's perfect for you. Well, I swear! The two of you are so made for each other that you connect like a puzzle. Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) When he sees you in skimpier clothes, you don't have to wait long. Oh, Charles himself just has his hands on you already. It doesn't take much for him to come running to you like a stray puppy. But let's not kid ourselves, you also have a high sex drive and it doesn't bother you at all. You have sex often, but without exaggeration - you love the intimacy you can give each other, but in a fit of exhaustion or stress, you just let it go. Showing love in other ways with you is as much as possible, and you do it all the time.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) Oh, it takes Charles a long time to fall asleep. So you practically always have a long talk with each other after sex, and mostly you fall asleep first in his embrace, and he falls asleep quite a while later. Despite your best efforts, he chooses the moment of his own falling asleep. He loves to contemplate, stroking your hair and smiling to himself at how lucky he is.

A/N: part one if anyone missed it!! i will be very pleased if you leave something behind - orders are open, and I am very close to 200 followers! maybe I can get in by the end of the week? please do not copy and translate my works! in case of any issues related to this - I invite you to discuss privately :)

this time, according to the votes, the chapter with lando won, so there you go!

#f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 instagram au #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #f1 fic #formula 1 #charles leclerc smut #charlesleclerc #charles leclerc #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic

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sunsets-and-crows · 9 months ago

Text

Is It Casual Now?

pairing: Reader x Sylus

Word count: 7K

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As you begin to accept your feelings for him, your complicated relationship with Sylus takes a darker turn. As his world unravels before you, desire and fear blur into one. Can you handle the intoxicating power he wields, or will it consume you both?

You miss him while he’s away and end up in a situation you never thought would happen.

tags: PWP porn with plot (if you squint), don/sub themes, a little angst. NSFW content MDNI- please read with caution, AU lads! Warnings ahead!

Sulus has been living in my head rent free since I downloaded this damn game. It’s my first time writing so please let me know what you think!

A few content warnings for y’all please read them carefully!

Dark Themes, Dub-Con elements (particularly with questionable use of Sylus’ Evol. Consent is a big theme though and he does 100% get consent to do anything and everything he does) , Power play, dominance, and submission. It’s Sylus, guys, what did you expect? Violence and Gore (he’s going to kill some people) Child Endangerment (if you squint) Mentions of children being involved in adult situations or discussions (no children are actually harmed in this fic, just a nasty person offering that) Sexually explicit content: they really do be fucking like rabbits. Unprotected Sex: don’t be stupid guys.

The sunset glowed a vibrant orange, illuminating the streets below the penthouse window you were currently looking out of. Letting out a sigh, you basked in the weakened rays’ warmth and pulled the hoodie closer around your nightdress-clad body. Well, his hoodie. The material wrapped around you deliciously and it was probably more expensive than your salary for the month. But that wasn’t what drew you to it in the first place. The smell comforted you. You took another deep breath in at the collar and savoured the musky scent you could only describe as him. He always smelled so good.

Sighing again at the thought, you checked your phone for what felt like the thousandth time that evening. The blank screen almost mocked you. You should’ve been used to this, but each time the silver-haired menace left you here, you couldn’t help but let the worry eat at you.

Today, you’d left the bedroom to find a note in his signature cursive scrawl letting you know that he would be back later. Later. You scoffed at the thought of later. When even was later? Sometimes later meant a few hours, sometimes it meant the afternoon and on rare occasions, later meant a few days.

Before you could let the thought consume you, your phone buzzed in your pocket. You made a grab for it quickly – 1 new message. From Rafayel. You hated yourself for being disappointed.

20:43 Rafayel: where are you honey

You quickly typed a response, some shit about working late or meeting a friend. Honestly, you put so little thought into the reply that guilt crept its way back in, so you deleted it and retyped.

20:50 Me: I’ve taken the day off for some much needed rest and relaxation! I haven’t even had my phone on me. Do you need something Raf? I can talk :)

You replied, you know, like a liar.

20:51 Rafayel: No worries cutie

20:51 Rafayel: I haven’t heard from you all day so naturally I thought you died

20:53 Rafayel: only reason I could think of for your lack of contact.

20:53 Rafayel: rest well cutie

20:53 Rafayel: next time text me back and dun make me wait!

20:55 Rafayel: I’d die without your attention.

His reply was humorous, but you knew deep down he was actually worried about you. You felt a little bad, but at least he was cracking jokes like usual.

Rolling your eyes and huffing out a laugh, you pulled yourself away from the living room window and made your way into the kitchen. The sun had now set completely. You’d been alone all day and frankly the boredom and worry were eating you alive. You needed something to do. You glanced at the clock in the kitchen and sighed again. You hated eating on your own, but now, at 9:00pm, you had no other choice. Your stomach growled loudly in agreement.

You’d stayed at his hotel many times. Sometimes for work near the N109 zone and other times just because he asked you to. Sometimes he’d bring you here on dinners and shopping trips that felt so much like dates, they left your heart fluttering and your brain confused.

This time however, You’d had a particularly bad week and were looking forward to some “quality time” together. He’d picked you up after work directly in front of the Hunter’s Association, your employer. Of course, they didn’t need to know that you were running around with their number one wanted criminal.

If any other man tried to take you back to a hotel room, let alone one he had clearly lived in, you would have laughed and told him to get lost. But this was different. It was clear that he used this penthouse often, but not often enough for it to feel lived in. He’d clearly custom-decorated it, which, you supposed, was a perk of owning the hotel. It didn’t feel like a seedy hotel room - you would’ve left if it had. It felt expensive, like a luxury, to be let into this part of his world.

Your bare feet made soft slapping sounds against the marble of the kitchen floor and the stone sent a chill through your body. You always felt cold without him around. Strange - for someone you were just casually hooking up with. You made your way to the fridge and checked inside. Empty, except for three bottles of white wine and two bottles of sparkling wine. None of this was the food you so desperately needed, but it would do until you decided what to order.

You popped open the bottle of sparkling wine and poured yourself a decent glass, downing the whole thing and pouring another. Just to take the edge off, of course.

You walked back to the living room, full glass and bottle in hand, and plopped down onto the deep red velvet sofa. Picking up the room service menu, you pondered over the many choices. You hastily called down to the front desk and placed your order, hoping it would arrive soon.

Taking another sip of wine, you pulled out your phone and scrolled through your message conversation.

12:54 Me: Any idea when you’ll be back?

Read 12:55

13:31 Me: Should I eat the leftovers for lunch or are you bringing something back?

Read 13:32

15:43 Me: I feel like I should let you know that I ate your half of the leftovers. I was hungry and you aren’t responding.

Read 16:32

18:49 Me: Are you going to be back for dinner?

Read 19:02

20:56 Me: Are you okay?

Read 20:56

20:58 Me:*You unsent a message*

You scoffed at your phone, worry turning to frustration. He clearly had time to check his messages. Why couldn’t he just respond? He was so frustrating!

After aimlessly scrolling through mind-numbing videos for a few minutes, the bell to the penthouse rang. You hopped up and checked through the peephole, rightly assuming your dinner had arrived. You brought it into the living room and began to dig into the delicious meal. It killed a good 45 minutes, you realised as you checked your phone once you were done. Finishing up with a little tidying wasted another 10 minutes, and then you were back to waiting.

Now, it was closer to 11:00pm, and you felt your eyelids growing heavy, but with no sign of him, you didn't want to fall asleep just yet. You put on a random movie on the giant TV and decided to settle in on the sofa for the night.

It feels like only moments later when you woke to the sound of classical music blaring from the record player in the corner of the room. The movie had been switched off. You became aware of a weight on your hip. Calmly, you look up to discover the source. A hand was stroking your hip and playing with the end of your nightdress, which had ridden up while you slept. The hand belonged to none other than Sylus himself. Somehow, he’d managed to situate himself on the sofa you were sleeping on, your head resting on his lap as his hands absentmindedly fussed with your body and hair.

‘You’re awake,’ He said in his deep drawl, the words smoothing over you like honey.

‘I didn’t even realise I’d fallen asleep,’ You replied blinking up into his deep carmine eyes as they roamed your body.

‘Out like a light, sweetie,’ he said with a smirk. ‘You didn’t even flinch when I came through the door.’ His lips held that signature smirk as he continued, ‘What happened to those fine-tuned hunter instincts, hmm? Have they been dulled by the wine you so graciously helped yourself to?’

He sounded calm and collected as usual, but you could tell something was off. You shifted on his lap to look at him more seriously.

‘What happened, Sylus?’ You asked, letting his comment about the wine slide. He’d give you the earth if he could; you knew he wasn’t really bothered by a bottle of wine.

‘Nothing to worry about. As you can see, I’m perfectly fine,’ he replied, feigning nonchalance. But there was a note of something in his voice that betrayed his nearly perfect mask. Your eyes scanned his face, searching for any clue.

‘See something you like, sweetie?’ He teased, tilting his head and gazing into your eyes. He was so close, and for a moment, you were distracted by how handsome he looked. Your eyes drifted to his lips, which crooked up into another half-smirk when he noticed.

You snapped out of it. ‘I’m being serious, Sylus. I missed you all day. You read my messages, so I knew you were alive, but it’s so hard waiting here when all I want is to be with you.’ You softened your voice, trying to coax him into opening up.

‘Sweetie,’ he started ‘you knew what this arrangement would look like when we started. I don’t want to tell you anything that you don’t need to know. You wouldn’t like-’

‘You don’t know what I’ll think!’ you interrupted, sitting up and turning toward him. You cupped his jaw and guided his face toward you. That’s when you spotted it, a red drop of dried blood on his temple. You raised your hand and gently ran your thumb over the spot. ‘Sylus, I’m a big girl. I kill wanderers for a living you know?’ He sighed leaning into your touch, clearly soothed by the movement. ‘I’m in this, whatever it is, with you. I wouldn’t have betrayed The Hunters Association and constantly sneaked behind their back for just anyone. Please tell me what happened.’

He sat in silence, eyes closed, rolling your words around in his mind. Initially, he’d kept this side of his business a secret because he wasn’t sure he could trust you. But over the months, he’d kept it hidden for another reason entirely. He didn’t want you to see the violent, unkind part of him that emerged when dealing with business.

But now, thinking back to how you met, to all the challenges he’d watched you face without backing down, he wrestled with himself. Would it really be so bad to let you in?

He opened his eyes, his hand wrapping around yours. ‘Are you sure you want to know?’ You nodded gently, holding his gaze to show him how serious you were. ‘Today’s deal didn’t quite go as planned. Turns out this buyer held a grudge against me after our last meeting - he sold me some subpar protocores and I, naturally, refused to pay for them. He had men hidden in the surrounding buildings and ambushed me. No class, kitten,’ He said, his voice sharp. It sent a shiver down your spine, but you were determined to stay composed.

‘Luke got out unscathed but Kerian was hurt pretty badly. He was being patched up until late into the night.’ Your face must have betrayed your shock because Sylus leaned in and pressed a delicate kiss on your cheek. ‘I had to execute every person in that room for trying to double-cross me sweetie.’ he whispered into our ear, his tone deep and almost seductive.

You gasped, but before you could speak, he asked, ‘Should I continue?’ You nodded again. ‘My gun burned through its holster once I ran out of bullets. It wasn’t my only weapon, of course.’ His tone turned dark. ‘You remember how deadly my Evol is, right sweetie? You found out the day we met.’

Your body reacted instinctively to the memory, a flash of heat curling in your belly.

You could only nod again, this time biting your lip at the memory of your first meeting. ‘I take an odd delight in using it to eviscerate my enemies, turning them to dust beneath my feet, where they belong. Filth like that needs to be taken care of - don't you agree sweetie” His voice had turned almost syrupy in quality and his eyes flashed with the red of his Aether core. You were shocked- not at the information, but at your own reaction to it.

He continued. ‘Of course, I had to leave the boss for last, sweetie. He had a lesson to learn, after all. First, he sold me sub-quality products and then he tried to cross me. Tut, tut, tut. That simply won't do.’ You leaned in slightly closer, resting your knees on his thighs as you curled up. ‘Well, I’ve never heard a grown man beg so quickly, and you won’t believe it, kitten. He tried to make a deal with me.’

‘What kind of deal? For his life?’ you questioned.

‘Hmmm sort of,’ he replied. ‘This man - no, this filth - tried to offer me his own flesh and blood in return for me sparing his life. His own child. His daughter is just 16 years old. He told me I could have her.’ He scoffed as if the thought were laughable. ‘He should've known that would never work. In fact, it left me more disgusted by him. She’s a child. She should never have been brought up in a business discussion. I tortured him a little more for that. First his eyes…’ At this, he brought his hand to your face and swept his thumb over one of your eyes. ‘He didn’t deserve to look at me. Next, his tongue…’ His hand moved down and ran over your lips ‘his disgusting begging earned him that one, kitten. Of course, I couldn’t just rough him up, that wouldn't do. I had to make him suffer, unable to scream for help, gurgling and choking on his own blood.’

Somehow, you weren’t utterly horrified like you'd imagine you would be, hearing about the killing of so many people and the blatant torture of another. You felt your thighs clench at his raw power and seductive tone. God, what was wrong with you?

Sylus, ever the observant man, saw your eyes dilate and your thighs clench beneath your tiny nightdress. ‘Well, sweetie, it seems I had nothing to worry about,’ He brought his hand down to your hip and moved in close to whisper in your ear. ‘You’re clearly more than woman enough to handle anything I throw at you.’

You were found out. ‘Did you want me to be scared?’ you asked him, your voice soft in his ear, as his lips dropped to your neck - not making contact, but close enough for his eyes to watch your pulse racing beneath your soft skin.

‘Never, sweetheart. I’m not interested in your fear’ His voice dripped with lust as he cupped your shoulder and laid you back against the soft sofa beneath you, crowding around you with his arms resting on either side of your face. ‘Why would I want that when your desperation is so much more… enticing?’

He brought his hand up to your face, gripping it tight enough for you to feel his control, but not enough to hurt you. ‘Tell me, kitten,’ He purred, his eyes locking onto yours ‘Why is it that hearing these vicious acts has got you all hot and bothered, hmmm?’

“It’s just…” you couldn’t quite seem to find the right words.

“Just? Just what?” He replied, almost mocking with his tone.

“Just, you. I don’t know why but hearing about you being so ruthless and in charge, it kind of turnsmeon.” You rushed through the end of your sentence, mumbling to the point of incoherence.

“Oh come on kitten,” he started. “You can be a big girl and tell me properly.”

“I said it, turns me on!” Your face had heated up quite substantially but still you went on. “I don’t know why, but it does. I think it’s the control maybe?”

“Oh really,” his voice dropped to a whisper as he leaned closer to your ear “and do you want to be under my control too?”

You shut your eyes, trying to escape his intensity, but he clearly wasn’t going to let that slide. ‘Uh-uh sweetheart. Look at me when I'm talking to you.’ You heard light buzzing in the air by your head before you felt it - his Evol snaked around your throat, giving a light squeeze in warning. Your eyes snapped open at the sensation. ‘Don’t hide from me. I want to see how much you can handle. Now tell me what I want to hear - don't make me force it out of you.’ His right eye flashed in warning and you felt a slight pull to open up to him in more ways than one.

This was a completely new dynamic in your relationship. He had never used his Evol on you - other than when you first met - and it sent a thrill running through you. The idea of him compelling you to voice your desires so clearly, without hesitation, made you realise just how much you liked this side of him. He noticed your eyes dilating further- they looked like beautiful black pools, and it drove him wild to know that he had this effect on you. ‘Oh. It seems like that’s exactly what you want to happen. Is that right, sweetheart?’

You nodded desperately, but he held your face still and kissed your lips lightly. ‘No, baby, you have to use your words. You have to want this, or it’s a huge invasion of privacy. I won't do that’

His insistence on your consent, made your heart flutter. Little things like this reinforced your feelings for him, and you couldn't help the little smile that revealed your affection. ‘Sylus, i-I want you to force me to tell you this.’ You emphasised your point by bringing one hand up to his shoulder, squeezing the muscle beneath, while the other rested on his chest, feeling the abnormally fast pace of his heart beating beneath his skin.

He closed his eyes and then opened them, his Evol no longer prickling at you but pushing you fully. He looked you straight in the eyes with such intensity that you couldn’t have looked away even if you’d wanted to. Then, the voices started - a cacophony of your own voice inside your head, letting loose every desire you had. The sound grew so loud that the sentences slipped out of your mouth against your will. ‘Submit to him. Claim him as yours. You belong to him. Give him everything. Submit.’

Your breathing grew heavier as you spilled all of your secrets, anxiety building. You wanted to look away from his handsome face, but thank god you couldn’t.

You saw his eyes dilate at your confessions. The more you were forced to say, the more hunger you saw on his face. His breathing deepened, and you felt him growing hard against your leg. His mouth parted on a shaky exhale, the warmth of it hitting your face. You could nearly taste the whiskey he’d clearly consumed before arriving. When he spoke, his voice was deep and husky, laced with lust. ‘Oh, it seems you’ve had a lot on your mind recently. Why didn’t you say something before?’

He let you out of the grip of his Evol and you couldn’t even begin to form an answer to his question. You reached your hands up into his hair and pulled him into a deep kiss.

The moment your lips connected with his, everything around you seemed to dissolve, leaving just the two of you. Sylus responded immediately, deepening the kiss with a hunger that mirrored the storm of emotions brewing inside him. His hands roamed the sides of your body, trailing heat wherever they went, making your skin tingle under his touch. He tugged at your lower lip with his teeth before pulling back, his breath ragged as he stared down at you, eyes dark with desire.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice a low, rumbling growl. “You’ve got no idea what you’ve just unlocked.”

His grip tightened on your hips, and you could feel the restraint in his movements, like he was holding back a torrent of emotion and power. You felt a strange thrill at his words, at the way he teetered on the edge of control.

“Maybe I like danger more than you know,” you replied, your voice breathless yet teasing, daring him to show you just how deep this game could go. You ran your hands down his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath your fingertips. He inhaled sharply at your touch, his carmine eyes blazing with intensity.

His hands slid beneath your nightdress, grazing your thighs as he pulled you closer into his lap. Suddenly, his grip tightened and he lifted you up into the air as he stood from the couch. You let out a surprised gasp, instinctively wrapping your legs around his waist, as they had done hundreds of times before.

He carried you into the bedroom and unexpectedly sat himself down at the headboard, leaving you straddling his thighs and pressed against his hard cock. Your hands went back to his shoulders. He bucked his hips up into you and you both groaned at the contact, the heat between you two becoming almost unbearable. He leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Tell me,” he whispered, his voice dark and smooth. “Do you really think you can handle me at my most dangerous, sweetie?”

You swallowed hard, your heart racing as you met his eyes. There was no going back from this. Not from the way he was looking at you, not from the emotions you were feeling—raw, untamed, and terrifyingly real.

“Yes,” you breathed out, barely audible but filled with certainty. To prove it, you grinded against him and let out a soft keen at the feeling of him, hard and right where you needed him.

Sylus’s smirk grew wider, and he pressed a hungry kiss against your neck, letting his lips linger, as the mark he left tingled. “Then brace yourself,” he said, “because I don’t plan on stopping until you know exactly who you belong to.”

He moved with purpose, flipping you both over to once again tower over you. Letting you know that he was firmly in control. This, you were used to, this you craved.

His hands moved deliberately - never once hesitating - slipping beneath the thin fabric of your nightdress. He groaned softly as his fingers found your bare skin, the touch electrifying. You arched into him, craving more, your breath hitching as he ran his hands along your sides, his lips following the path of his fingers, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

“Is this what you want?” he murmured against your skin, his voice rough, primal. “Is this why you’ve been so restless without me?”

You could only nod, words failing you as desire overtook everything else. Sylus chuckled darkly at your silence, his hand tightening possessively around your waist as he shifted, pushing you back into the soft cushions of the bed. His body hovered over yours, his silver hair falling like a curtain around his face as he gazed down at you with a mixture of hunger and affection.

“You drive me crazy, you know that?” he said, his voice softer now, though still edged with that dangerous undercurrent. “Every time I leave, all I think about is getting back to you.”

His confession hit you like a punch to the chest. This wasn’t just about the sex. There was something deeper, something neither of you had dared to voice before. But in this moment, with everything laid bare, there was no hiding from it anymore.

“Sylus,’ You groaned ‘I think about you too, you have to know that,” you whispered, your hands gripping his shirt as if holding onto him was the only thing keeping you grounded. “I can’t stop thinking about you, Sylus.” You paused your hands’ movements and looked at him.

He froze, his eyes searching yours, and in that heartbeat of silence, you could feel the shift in the air between you. Something unspoken passed between you, something more than just physical desire.

Sylus lowered his head until his lips were barely brushing yours. “Then don’t,” he murmured. “Don’t stop. Don’t hold back.”

And with that, he kissed you again, this time with a slow, deliberate intensity that made your whole body tremble. Your hands took the opportunity to pull apart his shirt, buttons flying everywhere and baring his beautiful skin for you. His hands roamed over you with a possessive need, claiming you in ways that left no doubt in your mind that this was more than just a game to him. It was more than just physical.

It was everything.

‘I’m going to absolutely ruin you,’ He said with an edge of desperation in his voice. He pulled off your nightdress, not at all shocked to find you bare beneath it but delighted nonetheless. Less barriers to make his way through. He let out a groan so deep at the sight of you bare and dripping for him. He couldn’t help himself, he needed you. ‘You want me to taste you? To bury my face between your thighs and make you come?’ You nodded furiously, drunk on his raw power. “Then that’s exactly what I’m going to do.’

With that, he dove in tongue first. Lapping at you with unparalleled delight. ‘Fuck,’ he groaned. ‘You alway taste so divine?’ he dove back in. “You’re so perfect and all mine.’

You couldn’t contain your sounds of pleasure, nor did you want to. You knew he loved to hear you cry out and moan for him. The menace loved to hear how he was ruining you. A wicked grin spread across his face as he wrapped his arms around your thighs and pulled you close into his waiting mouth. ‘You’re so wet for me, kitten,’ He murmured, his voice thick and filled with heat. ‘I can't wait to lap up every last drop.’

Without warning, his tongue swept across your slick pussy, eliciting a gasp of pleasure from your lips. He continued to completely overwhelm you with his enthusiastic assault of his tongue on your pussy. Teasing and tantalising every sensitive spot. He brought his hand up to join in, gently circling around your entrance and pushing in to feel that spongy spot that would, no doubt, have you seeing stars.

‘Mmmmm, you taste amazing,’ he growled, his voice low and husky. ‘Like honey and wine.’ He took his time, exploring every inch of you, his fingers continuing their exploration of your g-spot .

He could feel your pleasure building, your moans growing louder and more insistent, your walls squeezing around his fingers. ‘I love watching you like this, seeing you unravel. Fuck!’ is words were spoken against your pussy, almost muffled by how close he was. His tongue circled your clit, teasing it with gentle, sucking motions.

He was driving you closer and closer to the edge, tensing up. The coil inside you wound so tight that you could snap at any moment, but something held you back. “Please Sylus, please let me come, I want it, please.’ You needed permission. Your cries were desperate and pleading and it turned him on even more.

“Cum for me, sweetie,” he urged you, needing to feel you fall over the edge, desperate for your release. “Let me feel you cum on my tongue baby, you’re squeezing my fingers so hard.”

He dove back in his mouth and lips working overtime on your clit and his fingers hitting that spot with expert precision. He felt the moment you came for him and he groaned loudly into your pussy. He could taste the waves of pleasure on his tongue and feel the way you clamped down hard on his fingers, getting impossibly tighter. He gently ran his tongue over your clit, drawing out pleasure from your quivering body.

“Fuck, Sylus,” you groaned. Your body was still reeling from the aftershocks of your orgasm when you felt him shift against your foot, his cock - still confined in his trousers and boxers - was as hard as a rock and desperate for attention. “Come here,” you demanded as you pulled him up by his soft strands of silver hair. The slight pain from your tugging and your tone elicited another groan from Sylus.

Your lips smashed together, both of you moaning into the kiss. He kissed you impossibly harder. Ravaging your mouth as your hands worked his belt, then zipper open and pushed them down his thighs, boxers and all. He shivered a little as you wasted no time in gripping his cock firmly in your hands.

“Please, let me taste it, Sylus?” You asked with a look of feigned innocence on your face. How could he say no to that?

As you got onto your knees in front of him, you licked up the length of his cock. It was completely hard for you and he groaned at the sensation. Of course his dick was just as pretty as the rest of him. E looked down at you as you took the tip of his cock into your mouth and sucked him sweetly, blinking up at him. His moans of enjoyment encouraged you. You used both hands around his shaft and let your mouth focus on his sensitive tip, just the way he liked it. You knew all of his favourite places to be touched and just the right way to do it.

He was utterly enraptured with the sight of you, mouth stuffed full of him. He gathered your hair in a makeshift ponytail before pulling you off him. “You’ll be the death of me, sweetie,” he replied. Your hands continued their work on his cock, spreading out the silky precum that had gathered at his top and using it to lubricate your motions. He felt so good, your hands working wonders. “I fear I’ve taught you-“ his groan interrupted him mid sentence as you licked his slit again. “Taught you too well. Fuck. I won’t last in your mouth, sweetie. I need you now!” It was a command, not a request.

He pushed you back into your back and reached across to the night stand to retrieve a condom.

“Wait!” You grabbed his arm to stop him. He looked at you shocked, concerned that something was wrong. “What if we, ummm, didn’t use a condom tonight?” You asked, a hint of shyness creeping in. Truthfully you’d been thinking about it for a while now. He was the only man you were sleeping with and you were on the pill. There’s no one else you trusted to experience that with before. You wanted to feel him, raw, with no barrier between you.

He groaned and nipped at your neck, leaving a trail of kisses down your collarbone. “Fuck. You really want that? Are you sure?”

You nodded in response then remembering his earlier demand, voiced your agreement. “Yes Sylus, please I want it.”

“Good.” He growled as he took your nipple into his mouth and sucked on it, laving his tongue over the soft pebble and making you groan and grab at his hair again.

“I want you,” He said, his cock grinding against you completely bare for the first time, sending a shiver down your spine. “All of you.”

He captured your mouth in another searing kiss, his tongue tangling with yours as his hand slid between your thighs. His fingers teased your sensitive skin, collecting your sticky arousal and using it to stroke his cock - covering himself in your very essence. “I’ll give you anything you want, kitten.”

You took over from him, stroking his cock and guiding it to your pussy. His eyes lit up further, his cock throbbing with anticipation as you ran the tip of him across your soaked pussy. “I just want you” you replied earnestly.

“Oh, fuck,” he growled his voice so low and husky, it reeked for pure sex. “You have no idea how much I want to give you everything. To spoil you, claim you, to own you.”

He pushed into you, his cock sliding deep into your warm, wet pussy. He bottomed out and you both groaned at the sensation. He stilled himself inside you, his body tensed with pleasure as he felt himself buried to the hilt. “You feel so good,” he breathed, his voice full of adoration. “So perfect for me. This pussy is perfect, fuck, like it was made for me.”

He began to move his hips, rocking back and forth with a deliberate, slow pace. He could feel his control slipping, his desire to completely control you, to own you, growing with every passing moment. His raw cock although slow, was hitting perfectly inside you. It felt amazing. You raked your nails down his back and bucked your hips up to meet his thrusts. If you’d have known how good it would feel, you never would have waited this long to go without a condom. You could feel every inch of him, each ridge and vein, smoothing along your walls and drawing out your soft keens and mewls.

“You’re mine, sweetie,” he growled, his voice low and raw with need. “I’m going to make you mine forever.” He leaned in as his thrusts began to get faster and harder. “And I’m going to take everything. Every inch of you is mine. Every waking moment is mine. Every last breath in your body belongs to me now. I’m going to make sure you never forget it.

“Yes, please, Sylus,” you gasped as his thrusts turned merciless, his cock hitting you just right and the slapping noises echoing in the giant room. “Yes I’m yours, completely yours!”

He groaned at your words and smashed your lips together in another bruising kiss your tongue not even trying to fight for dominance as if it knew it was his. You could see the effect of your words on him, so you pushed on despite your breathlessness.

Each word came out in pants. “I’m yours! Yours to fuck, yours to spoil, yours to love. I’m all yours Sylus,” he grinned widely, possessively at your words. “And you’re all mine.” You reached up and pulled him into a desperate kiss, breaking off and leaving a trail of your combined saliva hanging from your lips. Moving them to his throat and attaching them to his sensitive spot, before sucking a hard mark on his neck.

He groaned loudly at the feeling. You trailed your lips lower leaving mark after mark in your wake. His hips stuttered and he had to still them to catch his breath.

“No one else gets to see you this way,” You leaned up and whispered into his ear “You’re all fucking mine.”

Sylus’s eyes darkened with unbridled desire as you declared your own possessiveness. He let out a guttural groan, his hips resuming their relentless slamming into you. He brought his hand down to your stomach and pressed down slightly, feeling his cock move within you from the outside - it drove him absolutely wild.

“Oh sweetie, you’re right,” he rasped, his voice dripping with lust from your words. “I’m all yours. Every. Single. Fucking. Inch.” He punctuated his words with four particularly hard thrusts that had your eyes rolling back in your skull and your moans coming out in quiet shrieks.

He captured your lips in a bruising kiss, his tongue pressing into your mouth as his fingers gripped your hips tight enough to leave bruises the next day.

He broke the kiss, only to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, sucking and nipping at your soft skin. “I’m going to mark you up, kitten,” he murmured, his teeth grazing your flesh. “Everyone is going to know you’re mine.”

He pulled back, his eyes drinking in the sight of you beeneath him, his cock buried deep inside your warmth, bare and fucking stunning. The feeling was indescribable. A wicked grin spread across his handsome face as he grinded his hips against yours with him all the way deep.

Your eyes flashed open at the new feeling and looked down to see where you were both so intimately connected. As he pulled out, you could see the way you gripped onto him tighter and tighter and you could feel your pleasure building inside.

He could feel it in the way you squeezed him in a vice-like grip, it had his mind reeling and him desperately close to the edge. He tried to hold on, and was doing a great job of it until you reached down to rub your clit and moaned out.

“Please cum inside me, Sylus,” you were almost begging him. You were so close to your orgasm and you knew it would leave you exhausted. “Please, cum for me, I’m so close. Please cum with me.”

Sylus’s face contorted into a mix of pleasure and restraint, he wanted to feel you cum around him first before he let himself release. He could see the desperation in your eyes, your desire to be filled by him.

He drove into you with a fierce intensity, his hips pumping in a rapid, rhythmic motion as he got closer and closer. He brushed your hand away and used his fingers to press down, as his thumb battered your clit. “Come for me, sweetie, I’m right there too,” He rasped out, his voice hoarse “I’ll fill you up pretty girl, I promise, I’ll make you mine in every way.”

“I’m gonna cum, fuck, Sylus!” You moaned out his name as you felt yourself hit your orgasm.

He felt his body tense, his cock throbbing with release as he exploded inside you, his cum pumping out in hot, pulsing jets. He felt it spilling into your depths, the sensation so different without a barrier. Being connected to you, being inside you like that, it was the most intense feeling he’d ever experienced.

You were both left feeling absolutely breathless, sticky and tired. You closed your eyes and tried to catch your breath, when you felt soft kisses being pressed against your lips. “You’re so incredible, my perfect girl.”

His words set your heart on fire, almost matching the usual fast pace of his. He began to pull out but you stopped him with a grip on his hip. “Not yet,” you reached back up and kissed him gently. “I don’t want to be separated from you.”

His eyes warmed at your words, softening to the point where he looked completely enamoured with you. “I’m not going anywhere sweetie, I just need to clean you up.”

“Can’t you do that and still stay inside me?” You replied with a pout on your face that made him chuckle.

“I promise, I’ll be at your disposal for the rest of the weekend, if you let me get you cleaned up. How’s that sound sweetie?” He set the deal up and now the ball was in your court.

“That does sound good, but may I add one more clause to the agreement?” You said with a slight grin.

“Hmmm, sure. Anything for you, sweetie.” He shot back at you.

“Promise me, you’ll always come back to me. You don’t have to be here all the time but just promise me that I’ll be the one you come back to. And let me in, yeah?” You looked at him with warmth and a deeper emotion that you were too scared to name.

“Okay, then I want to add another clause, if I may?” He nuzzled into your cheek and kissed the side of your mouth before making eye contact again. “Quit your job, move in with me and let me have you as mine officially. I’m not going anywhere, and I want this to be something we can give our all to. I want to take you with me, to show you off as mine. Sneaking around was fun at the beginning, but now, I just want to hold your hand in the street, kiss you when I feel like it, or throw you over my shoulder and escort you out of the premises when I want you like this.”

He kissed you again, his teeth tugging at your lip and his tongue demanding entrance again. You were tempted, oh so tempted. What did you truly have back in Linkon that wouldn’t be there if you followed your heart? Zayne was your childhood friend, he’d understand. Your colleagues were just that, colleagues. Tara was always asking you about “Mr Skye” and when you would be making things official so she’d be delighted. And Rafayel? He had his own, Miss Hunter to keep him company. He seemed so happy and he would always be your best friend no matter what.

“Can I have some time to think about it?” You asked him.

He looked a little sad about it but he nodded his head and started to pull his softening cock out of you. His cum started to drip out of you and he looked down at the sight transfixed, his cock getting hard again at the sight. But he knew that he needed to give you a little space to process what he’d asked of you so he started to go to the bathroom intent on grabbing you a warm, wet washcloth to clean you up.

But your hand stopped him from retreating even one step. You looked up at him with your eyes full of adoration and he looked back feeling the weight of his own. “Okay, I’ve thought about it, let’s do it.” You giggled.

Sylus was silent for a moment, and you felt the weight of your words hand in the air before he finally spoke.

“God, I love you,” he said, his voice low and filled with something you hadn’t heard before—something vulnerable. He kissed you again as this time, the kiss felt different. You could feel all the emotion he put into it, truly conveying his raw emotion in the best way he could.

You pulled away and whispered “I love you too, Sylus,” before grabbing him by the back of the back and pulling him back down on top of you.

And in that moment, you knew things had changed between you both. No more hiding, no more pretending that what you had was casual. Because in reality, it was anything but.

And neither of you were willing to let it go.

#love and deepspace sylus #sylus x reader #sylus #lads sylus #lads smut #lads x reader #love and deepspace smut #love and deepspace x reader #lnds sylus #sylus x you #sylus qin #sylus smut #l&ds sylus

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once-upon-a-stolas · 9 months ago

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Long post tonight, but we can't talk about Pre-Murder Family Instagram Stolas without talking about his relationship with Valentino.

But first, a quick rundown for anyone new to this blog, or to these characters...

None of the HH/HB Instagram accounts were run by Vivziepop herself.

Both the Instagram accounts and Blitzo's art streams were crossover events in which the Helluva and Hazbin characters would mingle freely, leading to dynamics such as this one.

It's been speculated that the Hazbin accounts were shut down for legal reasons. This is not true, or at least not the sole reason for it. There was friction between the players and Viv that we will not be going into here.

The Instagram Vees, like Instagram Stolas, were profoundly different characters from the ones who would eventually come to be canon. Instagram Valentino, in addition to abusing and raping Angel Dust, was an animal abuser who routinely used his lover, Vox, as a punching bag.

Instagram Stolas was generous, respectful, and incredibly mindful of Blitzo's consent. There was no full moon deal at this time; Stolas simply allowed Blitzo to use the grimoire at his leisure, his only caveat that Blitzo be responsible with it. When they spent time together, sexually or otherwise, it was purely because they both wanted to.

All of that being said? It should come as little surprise that Stolas despised Valentino. Loathed him, detested him, referred to him as a rat and never missed an opportunity to throw shade at him. The feeling was very mutual, and their interactions were so venomously entertaining that even Vox and Velvette were having a good time.

It can't be stressed enough that Instagram Stolas behaved this way with absolutely nobody else, not even Vox and Velvette, suggesting to both that they could do and deserved better. Instagram Stolas was slow to anger, quick to forgive, and full of good-natured affection for just about everyone he came into contact with, not just Blitzo. The only other time he ever came close to being this disgusted by someone was when a commenter suggested he take advantage of a drunk Blitzo. Here, Stolas pulls no punches, gets Valentino by the throat and throws him around, and he's very good at it. He's classy, sharp, witty, exposing Valentino for the stupid, crass bully he is. He's a prince, knows it, and carries himself like one.

A punk like Valentino who mistreated others, but especially the people he's sleeping with? That was something Stolas couldn't and wouldn't stand.

(There's a blink and you miss it moment where Valentino refers to Stolas as a lonely, thirsty old man, the only time Valentino appears to hit a nerve. One might easily brush this off as a random insult, but Stolas as a character Blitzo's age was actually a very last minute -- arguably too last minute -- plot development that came after Vivzie saw a piece of fanart of the two as children. Instagram Stolas, like canon Stolas at this point, was a lonely older man.)

The last exchange here was posted on October 31, 2020, the day that Murder Family aired. After that, Stolas's characterization on the Instagrams was retconned to align with the character seen in that episode...the one who had no qualms with taking advantage of Blitzo's life being in danger to coerce a sexual bargain out of him. Therefore, it could be said that that reply marked one of the last times this Stolas, the Stolas this blog is about, would appear before his permanent transformation into a character that's often compared to Valentino, and who Instagram Stolas would have undoubtedly loathed.

At a time when Stolas's most defining trait was his patience, his unfailingly warmth and kindness towards everyone around him, and his respectfulness toward his sexual partner, it speaks volumes to his character that Valentino was the only person in the world he truly hated.

#Stolas #Valentino #Helluva Boss #Hazbin Hotel #stolas critical #Instalitz

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bluessmutifyplaylist · 1 year ago

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I heard you were opening requests right? So here’s mine!

https://www.tumblr.com/bluessmutifyplaylist/737214539832213504/separate-yandere-malleus-hubby-rook-hubby

This but with Lilia, Trey and Kalim bc I’m down bad for them-

Again, this is CONSENSUAL, but turns dubious in Lilia's. Longer scenarios because there are fewer characters.

Warnings: Yandere, Fem AFAB!Reader, Stockholm Syndrome(?), naive reader, creampie, breeding(?), unprotected sex, all characters are adults, sex with the intention of having children, mommy kink in Kalim’s, drugging in Lilia’s

Trey Clover

Even though you were two years younger than him, you basically acted as the parents of Heartslabyul. However, he refused to get into an actual relationship with you until you graduated. He may have a fantasy with you in his mind, but he wants to make sure that you actually love him. Turns out, you did, and you stayed loyal to him, writing him letters every week. He was there at your graduation, and he couldn’t help the fact that the question popped out of his mouth upon seeing you so happy to see him again. You gasped, obviously shocked, but you nodded your head as you pulled him into a kiss.

The wedding ceremony was small, but you were happy to finally be a baker’s wife. Ace and Deuce joked about how nothing changed about the two of you except for the rings because you both were still their honorary mom and dad.What stuck in your mind was them calling you mom. It felt right to you, and you brought this up to Trey, who agreed that maybe a child was in the books for the both of you.

What you didn’t expect was for him to start right then and there. He picked you up and over his shoulder as though you were a sack of flour and carried you to your shared bedroom. He tossed you onto the bed and immediately started tearing your clothes off, but instead of scaring you it made you more aroused. It didn’t take him long to put his mouth to your pussy, eating you like you were a pastry he had made.

He did not let up until you came at least once all over his face, making sure that you were wet enough to take his cock. He took his time entering, making sure that you weren’t in any pain. However, you were once a demon slayer, and taking something as big as Trey’s dick into your pussy was more pleasurable than anything. Once you moaned in pleasure, he started thrusting into you at a steady pace, going faster once it got to be too much to hold still. You were overstimulated from cumming already, but the way he looked at you with pure love in his eyes made you cum again, and he did too, sheathed deeply inside your pussy. That was not the only round that night, though.

Neither of you were surprised that you had received a positive pregnancy test about two months later, as you both were regularly sexually active without protection. However, to announce it to him, you put a bun in the oven at the bakery you both now owned. He picked you up into his arms and twirled you around, but something dark was festering in his mind. You would never be able to leave him now. Nor ever. You were his.

Kalim Al-Asim

He definitely is a delusional yandere, but it doesn’t really go further than that. He would rant to you about his desires for your shared future, forgetting to ask you what you wanted, but it was lucky that you wanted everything he wanted. You wanted to retire from being a demon slayer, and who better to spend your future with than Kalim, who proposed to you on the last day of his senior year? It wasn’t like you could go home. When you accepted, he immediately went to the Land of Scalding Sands to tell his parents, who were very excited.

Your wedding was definitely a very grand event, and your mother-in-law as well as a few sisters-in-law helped you get ready. Jamil was Kalim’s best man, and you promised your friend that he would no longer be the servant and that you wanted him to live his best life. Walking down the aisle, your really-soon-to-be husband was super excited. He had been waiting for this moment, and it was finally happening. He dipped you down into a kiss once you said “I do”, not waiting for the officiant.

That night, your husband didn’t really know what he was doing. He was a virgin, but not for long after that. You took charge, showing him how to finger you and eat your pussy, and when he made you cum for the first time, he was so happy. He was nervous about the actual intercourse, but you gently stroked him a bit before leading his tip to your entrance, getting on top of him, and sinking down.

The way he moaned ‘mommy’ nearly made you cum again, and so you started praising him, calling him your ‘good boy’ and asking him to make you an actual mommy. While he didn’t last long, he was ready to go again just a few seconds later. This man had endless stamina. You ended up on your back, as you instructed him to place your hips at a higher elevation as he continued to whimper and moan, thrusting desperately into you, cumming over and over again.

When you announce your pregnancy about 3 months later to your in-laws, all of Kalim’s siblings are excited at the prospect of having a niece or nephew, and his parents are excited to be grandparents. You weren’t even showing yet, but you and the baby were already being spoiled. No one wanted you to do anything. Mrs. Asim was there every step of the way, which was super helpful considering she had over 30 kids.

Lilia Vanrouge

Just so I don’t have to justify him getting married to someone younger than Silver, this is before Silver is even in the picture. In the war between fae and humans, you had joined their ranks despite being a human yourself. You didn’t agree with what the humans were doing, and you were stuck here, so you used your demon slayer abilities to fight under General Lilia’s command. To say he fell in love would be an understatement. No, he wanted to forever keep you to himself, and he killed anyone who wished you harm.

Despite merely courting, you gladly accepted your (rather forced) place as Silver’s mother when Lilia found him. This led to you two agreeing that you should be married a year later, and it wasn’t a very big celebration. Actually, it was the Briar Valley equivalent of going to Vegas and getting married for $20 in a drive-thru chapel. Seeing you being so motherly to the baby really woke something up in the former general.

Luckily, Baul volunteered to watch over Silver, as he seemed to do well with his grandson. So, you both quickly rushed home and started shedding clothes between passionate and messy kisses. Being as old as he was, he definitely had experience with pleasuring lovers. However, none was quite as memorable as you, as he quickly learned the signals of your body. That night was wild, as though you had taken aphrodisiacs… and he may or may not have slipped a bit into your tea at the ceremony.

Your pussy was so warm and wet, and his cock was rock hard. The moan you let out as he thrust his dick into you made his sanity snap. He immediately started pulling out just to shove himself back in, reveling in the heat between your legs, thrusting in again and again. He doesn’t know when the need to breed you came into play, but you had two orgasms by the time he came in you. It didn’t stop him from continuing, as he wasn’t overstimulated just yet.

Anyway, two months later you found out that Silver had a sibling on the way. Again, it didn’t surprise you, but Lilia was very excited about it. His darling wife was pregnant with the product of your love, and he is definitely doting on you. Don’t get me started on when you start showing and your baby bump protrudes and your breasts fill with milk. He will gladly give you massages wherever you need, and you can’t help but be a bit turned on when you see him singing Silver to sleep… leading to a lot of pregnancy sex.

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aesopsharpmybeloved · 10 months ago

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The Massage

When Aesop Sharp returns home to find his fiancée in bed with aching muscles from a long day of work, he's quick to offer his help. However, the situation takes a much more intimate turn, leaving both of them enjoying far more than just a little relief.

Big thanks to my dear friends @tea-withjamandbread and @dzajna for bearing with me while I wrote this beast, and providing their feedback and advice ❤️

18+ GO AWAY CHILDREN

[FULL NSFW PICTURE]

The Massage (9.8k)

tw: age difference (reader is an adult and has been for quite some time now), explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, oral sex, might be cheesy

Aesop Sharp sighed with relief as he pulled off his coat and blazer, depositing both on the hanger by the door before freeing his feet and calves from the heavy leather boots, replacing them with the soft slippers he wore in the house.

He knew his beloved was home, since the messenger bag she carried to work lay upon the bench in the cloakroom, but he currently couldn't hear a sound which would hint as to where she was. Perhaps she was out in the garden, he thought, she did like to rest there for a bit when she came home. Before beginning his search for his young fiancée, Aesop headed off into the ground floor bathroom in order to wash his hands and refresh himself a little.

Once there, he cast a quick cleaning charm on his clothes, swiftly ridding them of any traces of sweat or remains of any fumes from the potions brewed during his classes today that might've lingered. He splashed cool water on his face and let it air-dry. A few droplets still cooled him where they clung to his beard as he ran his fingers through his hair. Once he deemed himself presentable enough, he exited the bathroom and made his way through the dining room into the winter garden, and then out into the garden after putting on his outside shoes once more.

It was quite a nice afternoon, the air cool and crisp. The earth smelled of rain, the last remains of winter fading away and making way for spring to come. The sky was rather grey and sunless, but Aesop's mood was not at all soured by that. No, he instead inhaled more of the earthy scent, letting his eyes glide over the sizable garden. It looked quite different than it had when he still lived here by himself. There were more flowers in the flowerbeds, a little fire pit was added for the two of them to warm up on cool evenings spent outside, and a small shed was built to house his beloved’s owl.

Aesop made his way around the house, only to discover his wife-to-be was nowhere to be seen. He went back inside, mindful not to make a mess with his damp and slightly muddy shoes. It wasn't too cold outside, but he nevertheless shivered a bit when the warmth of the dining room enveloped him once more.

"(F/N)? Are you home, love?" He called out softly, off-handedly making the kettle float from its place on the stove to the tap, filling itself up with water before going back to its original place, so that they could share a cup of tea once he found her.

"Here," came muffled from above him. The professor smiled and unhurriedly made his way upstairs, ascending the steps with an easy step. He had to admit he felt quite appreciative of the work he and his beloved did in the house since she officially moved in with him. The house was never once uncomfortable, of course, but following the lack of fairer sex in the home, not to mention the depression that settled over him after Ashley's death, the house grew a little... empty. Most of the original furniture from when he was a child remained there, but without loving care, the paint faded and chipped, the wood surfaces lost their shine, and some articles of furniture grew desperately outdated.

When he still lived by himself and mostly just for himself, Aesop hardly cared. The few visits he had, mainly just from his mother, Dinah and Abraham, never once commented on the state of his home, and he was quite happy about it. However, when the young woman he couldn't wait to marry came to live with him, it was like he saw just how metaphorically grey the home had become. It didn't go well with the radiance of his sweetheart, of their love, and maybe of Aesop himself these days.

So they made the acceptable investment of one shilling for a large muggle catalogue of furniture and got to work. Aesop had smiled to himself then - maybe he'd tell Matilda of this endeavour of theirs. After all, a lot of transfiguration had been involved. Maybe she could make a similar exercise for her students - this was definitely more useful than turning a porcupine into a pincushion, at least in his opinion. Not that he'd tell her that... It took more than a week, mostly because they both had full time occupations after all, and when he and (F/N) were finally done, they were more than a little glad the next day was a Sunday, their magical cores feeling drained. However, it really felt worth it.

The house was once more perfectly warm and cosy, just like it was when Aesop had been a small boy, and then later when he and Dinah lived together. It once more held that comforting scent he could never quite put his finger on, and he felt the wear and tear of his teaching job melt away into comfort. The colours of fabrics, be it the sofas and armchairs, rugs, or perhaps some tapestry, were vibrant and warm, the wood of the tables, bookcases, and the wardrobes in the hallway once more shone and glistened with novelty. The rooms which were empty for long years, including Aesop's own childhood bedroom, became comfortable looking guest rooms for the time being. At least so until Aesop and (F/N) fully joined their hands in holy matrimony and embraced the idea of procreation. Aesop never once stopped feeling at home in the large house, but the way things were now, he felt genuinely happy every time he stepped over the threshold.

Finally, Aesop opened the door to his and (F/N)'s bedroom - it had more Ravenclaw colours than he'd personally seek out normally, but the end result certainly made for a very comfortable space. His beloved certainly seemed to think so, given she was lying on the spacious bed on her stomach, her arms idly by her sides and her face buried into the pillow. Aesop grinned, as he looked around. He could see the woman's outer, slightly dirt-stained clothing hanging from one of the chairs in the room.

He chuckled to himself and slowly walked to her side of the bed. Noiselessly, he kneeled on the floor, his face close to her head. Feeling his presence, his fiancée's head finally turned, and a pair of large tired eyes met his own.

"Hello," she murmured hoarsely, but nevertheless offered her lips to him. Aesop didn't waste a single second, he chased her mouth in a long, sweet kiss, his right hand gently stroking the woman's back and waist.

"How was your day, my sweet?" Aesop asked, though he could very much see her day had been difficult and strenuous. She merely groaned in return, and stayed silent for a few minutes, during which Aesop continued to stroke her back and shoulders gently. "Well," she spoke finally, "if you ever feel like trying to subdue a frightened unicorn stallion without using a light stupefy at first, I can tell you it's not a good idea... I took some Skele-Gro and Wiggenweld, of course, so I can proudly say my arm and my ribs are, once more, fully intact, but my muscles are still killing me..."

A small click left the professor's lips, his concern for his sweetheart's well being obvious. Nevertheless, he didn't say anything for several moments. But then: "Do you think you could lift your arms for me, my dear? I want to try and help you..." She observed him with a curious expression, but did as she was told, seemingly with great difficulty.

Aesop's large warm hands slipped under the hem of her blouse and pulled her chemise out of her drawers. He then carefully slid the soft materials up her body, over her head, and off her arms. He took in the sight she made momentarily - her hair was spread around her head like a halo, and her soft breasts were squished against the mattress in a rather lovely fashion. However, he shook his head then - now was the time to make his sweetheart feel better. His hand once more glided over the pale expanse of her back before it retracted and the professor made way to his side of the bed. After safely placing his wand upon his bedside table, he reached into one of the drawers and pulled out a small glass jar containing dark pink ointment.

He rolled up his shirt sleeves, and, without further ado, climbed atop the bed, and then carefully straddled his sweetheart's body, until he was partially sitting on her pert bottom. She huffed a little when she felt the extra weight on her bum, though it was not so much a huff of pain or discomfort, as it was one of confusion. "What are you up to, Ace?" she questioned, struggling to turn her head further to be able to look at him. Aesop only smiled: "Just wait. I promise it'll feel nice."

He took the cork out of the jar, and reached two fingers inside. It was one of his experimental brews, back when he was still looking for a cure for his leg. This particular ointment made muscles loosen up, and gave off a very pleasant warmth when rubbed into the skin. Which is exactly what Aesop did, once he deemed the amount of ointment on his fingers acceptable.

It was cool upon the young woman's skin at first, and she hissed at the feeling. However, less than a minute later, she was pretty much melting under Aesop's strong and steady hands. The professor himself was very careful in his application of the ointment at first, but grew a little firmer once he felt the kinks in his fiancée's back begin to loosen up. Soon he was fully massaging her slight shoulders and back, and thirstily drank in the sweet sounds that left her lips, as well as the flush that coloured her cheeks.

His movements caused his whole body to rock against her slowly, but he barely paid any mind to the pleasant friction of the soft flesh of her behind against his stiffening shaft. That is, until he felt the young woman purposefully roll her hips in a way that made the sensations way more pronounced. Aesop stilled in his movements, his breathing considerably heavier than it had been a few minutes ago.

"Sweetheart," he said gently, "as much as I’d like to, the last thing I want to do is hurt you more than you're already hurting..." The young woman groaned softly and further wiggled her bottom to the best of her abilities, given the fact Aesop was still partially sitting upon it. "It does not hurt that bad anymore..." she tried to protest, "besides, we can go really slow..."

Aesop couldn't hold back a small chuckle as he stared at his fiancée’s back in awe.

He lowered his upper body until his mouth was right next to her ear, his hands bracing his weight on each side of her head: "Really slow, hm?" he purred, making her shiver slightly. He rocked his hips against her a few times, slowly and passionately.

"This slow?" he asked, his voice growing lower. (F/N) didn't answer. Aesop then raised himself somewhat, and when he was positive he wouldn't lose his balance and collapse directly onto her, his hands left their previous position and closed around her hips instead, pulling them up from the bed. His own then ground into her, hard and excruciatingly slow, making the woman hyper aware that he was rock hard now: "or even slower, like so?"

She groaned again, her hands that were previously just lying idly by her sides now gripping at the sheets in obvious need. "A-Ace, please... Please, stop teasing, I really want this. I want you... And besides, you know nothing makes sore muscles relax quite as much as some nice lovemaking..." Once again, the professor snickered, even lower than before, still grinding his clothed erection against her. "You Ravenclaws," he said softly, "finding logic in everything... Very well then. But you'll tell me the moment something hurts too much, alright?"

The young woman strained her head, and actually braced her own hands next to her in order to raise herself up slightly and look at him better. She indeed seemed much less miserable than she did when he originally walked in, and instead now looked like a woman starved.

Oh, how could he ever resist her? Without another word, Aesop once more lowered himself, but this time to connect their mouths in a hot, passionate kiss.

One of his hands gently wrapped around her throat, neither pushing nor squeezing, simply holding her there, enjoying the feeling of her quickened heartbeat below his fingertips as well as the knowledge of how entirely she trusted him. His hips kept rutting against her more rhythmically now, and it made him release small short hums of desire into their kiss, his tongue cheekily prodding and teasing at her own, only to dart back so that he could gently nip at her lower lip.

Her own hand stopped pawing at the now rather ruffled sheets around her, and instead moved down to stroke his knee, which was about the only part of him she could reach without too much discomfort. Well, that just wouldn’t do, Aesop decided. But still, he gently ended the kiss, and motioned for his beloved to lower herself down again. Once she did, he covered her body with his own, his chest flush against her warm back, and his lips bestowing butterfly kisses against the nape of her neck and all the way to her ear.

“Are you completely certain?” he asked once more, but the grin that appeared on her face revealed her mind was quite made up. “Unless you plan to literally bend me in half, or restrain me into some extra ridiculous position, it is my firm belief that I’ll be just fine,” she replied, looking at him through her eyelashes, “but even if you do, I will survive. I took a day off tomorrow - well, not accurate - Ellie made me take the day off. She said I either stay home, or I’d be cleaning undersides of Flobberworms tomorrow, because she’s not letting me get trampled over twice in two days.”

“Hm, remind me to send her flowers,” Aesop murmured, only just resisting the urge to ask whether his fiancée ever thought about a different occupation. It was a silly thought, of course. She loved her job and was completely brilliant at it, and the last thing Aesop wanted was to limit her in any way, but any man who loved his woman half like Aesop loved (F/N) would have very much preferred knowing his beloved was safe.

He shook his head. Though there have been, and will undoubtedly be scuffs and scratches, and bruises and pulled muscles, (F/N) was a tough woman. Not two armoured mountain trolls and countless goblins attacking at once were able to put her down when she was just a student, and he doubted one stupid horned horse could do the job now that she was a bit older and much more experienced.

“Aesop,” she said with a small hint of impatience, but mostly a healthy dose of teasing, “should I feel offended you’ve still got enough blood in your brain to think despite me trying to do my best here to make it all go someplace entirely else?”

Aesop’s quiet laughter rang through the room. His arms pushed until they were tightly nestled under and around her waist, and his face nuzzled into the crook of her neck, breathing in her scent. She too released a little giggle, with Aesop unsure whether it was because of the combined sensation of the small scratch of his beard and the tickle of his hair on her soft skin, or just him showering her with his affections like this.

When she wiggled her bum again, Aesop was reminded of his desire, and found he had not wilted in the slightest during his brief moment of thinking. Carefully, he rolled to the side, ridding her of his weight on her back. No sooner than he’d done so did he move to turn her to face him, and their lips connected in another heated kiss. Thin fingers slipped into his hair, and one of her long legs found its rightful place over his hip. The warm skin of her bare upper body pressed against his own chest, and he was hyper aware of her softness and the gentle curves of her bosom despite the offensive fabric of his own garment separating them still.

As if on cue his fiancée pulled back slightly, her nose still gently bumping into his own. “Like always,” she whispered, and Aesop hungrily drank in the hotness of her breath, “you are wearing way too many clothes, Ace.”

The professor was very nearly ready to grab his wand from the nightstand and wave it in the air to immediately rid them of the remainder of their clothes, but at the same time didn’t for the world want this ever increasing thrum of arousal and anticipation to end.

The act of lovemaking itself was always lovely; both of them always went above and beyond to ensure their partner reached their peak in the most pleasurable way possible. However, Aesop knew they were also united in their enjoyment of foreplay, in the intimacy of once more, like so many times before, succumbing to one another’s embrace, to their most natural form, the sweetness of the other’s lips, and then finally the joy of their bodies uniting into one.

And so, quite unhurriedly, he looked deep into his beloved's eyes and pulled at his tie until it slipped from its knot and came loosely off. The single look was entirely enough to get her to understand, and she too wasn’t entirely urgent when her fingers left his hair in order to pluck his waistcoat buttons free from their holes.

Still, their clothes soon littered the floor of their bedroom, and the two of them were left in just their drawers. A low moan was released against the young woman’s tongue as her slight hand closed around the stiff member that was tenting Aesop’s underwear, and she gave him a few gentle strokes through the thin fabric. Her mouth watered at the feel of him, the organ hot and heavy in her hand and throbbing under her attention.

However, after she pulled a few more pleasurable sighs out of him, Aesop decided that two could play that game.

And so he let his mouth slide down slowly, kissing and biting at her neck, her pulse point and collarbones, soothing each of the harder nips with gentle licks of his tongue, his hand kneading the flesh of her pert buttocks appreciatively. And then, finally, when his lips reached her left nipple, his hand dipped in below the hem of her drawers, squeezed the soft bum, then made its way to the other side, long fingers sneaking their way towards her damp nether lips.

His beloved sighed, her head dropping to the pillow, and her hand momentarily ceasing its sweet torment of him at the sensation of the work-hardened tips of Aesop’s fingers dragging over her swelling lovebud and seam.

Quite soon however, she recovered enough to copy him. Aesop gasped lightly against the pink areola of her breast when he felt the gentle scratch of her nails drag from his belly button down through the dark hair of his happy trail, her hand soon also plunging into the tight confines of his cotton breeches to begin touching him fully.

The couple gently and unhurriedly fondled one another as much as their current position would allow them, with Aesop worrying at his fiancée’s nipples using his mouth while her free hand tugged at his hair, sending gooseflesh down his neck and back, and little electric sparks into his groin, which continued thrumming under her delicious caresses. He grinned when a particularly mean bite resulted in her hand in his hair tightening to the point of light pain, and she motioned for him to move up again. The professor did so without a word, immediately chasing her mouth in another kiss, less coordinated than the previous ones.

A smug smile spread on his face when they pulled away for breath. How he adored working her up like this - his beloved always seemed to have this detached sort of elegance about her, even after she just sent some wayward group of ruffians packing, twigs in her hair from leaping across the ground and dirt staining her cheeks. There was absolutely nothing detached about her now... Holding her gaze, he pulled his hand free from her drawers and brought it to his lips. His fingers glistened with her arousal visibly, and the professor made a show of slowly pushing each of them into his mouth to suck on them, closing his eyes and humming at her taste like she was a fine meal.

Suddenly, his teeth flashed as an idea popped to his head. The young woman gasped when she was suddenly pushed on her back and pulled lower on the bed, until Aesop was able to move to kneel behind her. His strong hands moved to once more stroke and squeeze at her soft breasts while he looked upside down on her face, his knees on each side of her head.

“This alright?” he asked quietly, his fingertips teasing at her ribs. She needn’t ask what he had in mind exactly, knowing all too well where a position like this might go. She felt herself dampen further with anticipation. Her hands reached up, and Aesop took them in his, shuffling down a bit to be able to kiss her once more before he began his descent down her body.

This time, he only spent a short while teasing her breasts and teats with his mouth before moving lower, his tongue gliding around the pale skin of her stomach and circling her belly button. Finally he reached the hem of her drawers, and his beloved lifted her bottom off the bed a bit, so that he was able to push them down her legs. The soft fabric bunched just past her knees, and the young woman used one of her feet to take them fully off, clearing the path for Aesop and his increasingly hungrier stare.

The teacher braced himself on one hand next to her left hip, and used the free one to spread her legs further, which made his fiancée shiver at the cool air lapping at her heated skin. Bending his head down, Aesop flashed one more grin at the young woman, before he finally lowered down to bury his head between her milky thighs.

A small groan was forced out of (F/N)’s mouth when his mouth immediately found her swollen clitoris and began sucking at it fervently, his strong arms curling around her limbs to hold them perfectly in place. The very view of him from this angle was maddeningly erotic, and when she turned her head up, she found she was perfectly level with the tent in his pants. There was already a damp little spot forming where his tip was, and the young woman decided that she made him wait long enough.

The large erection bumped her nose as it sprung out from the cottony confines upon her pushing the hem down, and her mouth watered further at his heady musky scent. She turned her head further, until his dark pink glans brushed against her lips, prompting the professor to release a harsh breath against her folds. The young woman giggled even as another wave of arousal rolled through her, and proceeded to toy with the tip using her mouth, suckling on it and rolling it around, prompting more lovely reactions from the professor.

Teasing little licks soon turned into proper pleasure when Aesop began using one of his hands to gently finger his beloved, while still worrying at her lovebud deliciously. The young woman in turn opened her mouth and carefully covered her teeth with her lips before accepting his hard cock inside, slowly bobbing her head up and down and taking him further with each move. Her fingers kneaded and teased at his heavy testicles, occasionally prodding at that one spot behind them that she knew made him see stars when she pressed down on it.

The increased stimuli sent small shivers through the teacher’s strong frame, and he unknowingly began thrusting his hips, shallowly at first, but then increasing in intensity, just like his mouth and hand did on his fiancée’s need. Their groans and gasps were muffled by the other’s skin, free hands were grasping at whichever part they could reach, hips, thighs, bottoms, fingertips leaving little red spots in their wake. The flank of (F/N)’s leg bore the perfect imprint of the potions master’s palm, while the woman herself took a small break from swallowing around the thick prick in her mouth in order to deliver a sharp bite at Aesop’s inner thigh. His strangled ‘Oh, fuck’ spoken against her drenched core was music to her ears.

Aesop adored being marked by her in the throes of passion, be it a bite on his neck, a couple of bruises on his hips where her toned legs squeezed him, or the sweet sting on his back where her fingernails dug into it.

His tongue thrusted into her opening along with his fingers, while his thumb now rhythmically rubbed nonsensical patterns against her little pink pearl. Aesop felt his release approaching rapidly under her incredibly intoxicating touch, but refused to let himself succumb to the sweet pull of no doubt brilliant orgasm before she tumbled down that ravine herself. And so, using the very few bits of self control he had left, he lifted his hips up and his member out of her brilliant mouth.

Now, the young woman tried to protest at first, her arms wrapping around his hips in an attempt to pull him back, but a small strategic bite at her folds coupled with a prod of his fingers to the little bundle of nerves deep within her made her arms lose their strength, and her back to arch against the mattress. He sped up his ministrations further, moaning quietly at the feeling of her climax approaching and at the sounds that now poured out of her mouth freely. He couldn’t see her currently, but he imagined her hands fisting the sheets below and her face twisting in pleasure.

Finally, with a cry she came undone underneath him, Aesop hungrily lapping up everything that she could give him. As she writhed with the sensations, one of her hands made its way to his hair, and she closed it around a few strands, not exactly pulling, but rather just hanging on while her orgasm shook through her. Aesop slowly rose when a little whine told him she needed a break from his continuous worship, and he wasted no time, kneeling back on the bed and pulling her somewhat into his hold until he was able to close his arms around her waist. He bent his head to kiss a trail from her neck to her jaw, and then finally to her lips.

He couldn't help but smile at the image of her red face, the sweat running down her forehead, and the blissed out expression when he pulled back from the positively filthy kiss.

“I hope that was to your liking?” he asked cheekily, his forefinger taking to drawing little patterns over her front, connecting the various freckles and moles on her chest and stomach. (F/N) snorted unabashedly, her breathing still laboured. “As you can clearly see, I hated it,” she quipped right back, her own hand coming to lay hotly on his thigh. She turned her head a little in a clear invitation for him to kiss her again, and Aesop didn't have to be asked twice.

After a few more minutes of exchanging languid kisses, she separated their mouths and whispered: “Although I am cross with you - while you made me finish, you didn’t let me finish.”

She looked awfully proud at the choice of her words, but Aesop merely chuckled: “And would you like me to let you finish, or shall I take you and we can make each other finish together?” An adorable pout of mock consideration appeared on her face and her eyes closed as she still rode on the gentle waves of afterglow.

Finally, her eyes sought out his own: “I say - why not both? Like I said, I’ve got a free day tomorrow. And, if I’m not wrong, your first class is at eleven o’clock, so that gives us plenty of time to have a little rest before you can go again, after that a nice bath, a bite to eat, and plenty of sleep still.”

Aesop shook his head slightly as another chuckle rolled through him. Still, he reached to gently caress her heated cheek, looking down at her with endless affection: “And you tell me I’m incorrigible, you little minx.” His beloved returned his smile: “Oh, you are. But I never claimed not to be incorrigible myself, did I?”

Aesop’s eyes shone with happiness and love as he watched the face he grew to adore so much, her cheeks still flushed and a few strands of her hair sticking to her forehead. The professor used his finger to push them to the side. The young woman used her hands to brace herself somewhat, and turned to steal another kiss. Truth be told, the angle was a bit awkward, but she was determined to make it work.

Aesop suddenly groaned into their kiss, his hand closing tighter where it was squeezing her hip, and he gave a shaky breath.

As she turned, his sweetheart once more took hold of his leaking cock, tugging at it rhythmically and driving him to his brink steadily. Knowing what she wanted, Aesop helped move her down on the bed again, his knees spreading wider where he was kneeling, and her head immediately arching back. She was smiling even as she observed him from her upside down angle, and licked her lips when his throbbing shaft appeared inches away from her face.

Aesop was breathing hard as he stroked himself a few times to take the edge off, and watched with a rapturous expression as she accepted him rubbing the glans across her swollen lips after a clear droplet of precum seeped out.

Without further ado, he used his finger to motion for her to open up, and once she did, he pushed the hard member into her waiting mouth again. A hum from her and a groan from him cut through the silence of the room as she enveloped him in her hot, wet heat, her cheeks hollowing out when she started to suck.

Aesop was mindful at first, his hips moving slowly and shallowly, despite his sweetheart not showing any sort of discomfort with having her mouth and throat plundered by him. Still, even though she became quite… experienced in this act since they were first intimate together, he always started off carefully - not that he ever tried himself, but he imagined having something so large in one’s mouth must be a bit difficult.

However, it would appear the young woman didn’t appreciate his carefulness all that much, for she slowly pulled her mouth off of him. “I won’t break, you know. Neither will I choke or bite your family jewel off.” she said with a challenging little grin. Aesop couldn’t help but smile right back at her. “I know,” he said quietly, “but just… just let me know if it gets too much, alright? Maybe, I don’t know, slap my thigh three times.”

She only rolled her eyes at him with another grin, before positioning herself to take him in her mouth again.

This time both of the potions master’s hands found her cheeks and jaw, and carefully closed around them. With a sharp thrust, his entire length disappeared in her mouth, and a quiet curse left his own. After a few more movements of his hips, he found a rhythm, quite faster than the one before.

He used his hold of her head to keep her in place while he fucked her throat, the the young woman’s little gasps and groans making sweet vibrations go through his shaft, and were soon making him lose himself. He watched with endless fascination as the skin of her throat grew slightly more taut each time he pushed himself deep inside, as little drizzles of drool soon began to leave her lips where they were closed around the thick organ, and how she rubbed her thighs against each other in an attempt to bring herself some friction.

He spread his legs even wider, his breathing hard and laboured, and his hold on her head increasing along with the speed of his movements.

His eyes closed momentarily as he was getting overwhelmed at the feeling, and nearing ever closer to that sweet release. The suction of her mouth, of the way her tongue lapped at him as best as it could given the position, the jolt of pleasure every time she swallowed around him, his tightening bollocks slapping against her face with every thrust, oh, Aesop knew was going to come hard.

It was quickly becoming too much. The professor’s member was now constantly weeping out in his fiancée’s throat, the coil in his stomach was becoming tighter, burning hot and bright like iron in a forge, his breathing came out in short bursts, and a litany of blissful sounds was leaving his mouth. His brain finally gave out, and he barely noticed his own hands leaving her face. Still, she stayed in her place, her own hands reaching up to grab at his hips, her fingernails digging into the flesh there as she hung on.

One of the teacher’s hands closed around her breast, kneading it roughly, while the other carefully covered her throat. He could almost feel it where he fucked her, he imagined he could feel his cock stretching her neck, her Adam’s apple bouncing each time she swallowed around him.

“Hnng, b-bloody hell, (F/N),” Aesop managed to grit out before another groan left his lips, and his eyes rolled back, “Bloody hell, I’m so close. I’m so close, sweetheart…”

His hips began staggering, and the teacher felt the build up of sensation spreading through his entire body. His muscles were tensing up, and his cock was throbbing desperately. The fingers on his hips dug in deeper, the sting of the fingernails doing nothing but pushing him further, further towards that edge. He rutted into her incredible mouth, his own dry and open, sounds of pleasure falling out freely.

“Oh, Merlin, I’m coming. Oh! Mhm!” Aesop’s eyes rolled back into his head, and he bit his lower lip harshly when the coil in his lower belly snapped, and the pleasure exploded within him. His prick emptied into her throat in long spurts, and soon his body started trembling slightly under the immense gratification. He then sat back quickly and pulled himself out of her mouth, so that the last two ropes of pearly white cum landed on her dark pink lips and spit-damp chin.

Aesop fell down on his arse, nearly collapsing right into the pillows behind him, breathing hard. The young woman before him was in a fairly similar state to him. He heard her swallow a few times, her own breathing quick and laboured. The professor used the last bits of his strength to lie down on the bed next to her. His heart still beat louder and faster than a wardrum, and his hands were still shaking a little.

Turning his head, he saw his sweetheart’s eyes were closed, her face relaxed, and her lips spread into a content smile. The product of his pleasure still clung to her skin, and Aesop found the sight incredibly erotic, his just spent shaft twitching ever so slightly with residue arousal. He turned on his side to face her, and threw one arm and leg over her heated form in as much of an embrace as he was able to execute at the moment.

They spent several minutes like this, bodies slowly calming and cooling down, heartbeats returning to normal, brains regaining control of their higher functions once more. Finally, Aesop summoned a cool wet cloth using his hand, once he actually felt all of his fingers again. He propped his head up on his other hand, and gently got his fiancée’s attention by pressing a small kiss against her cheek.

Her eyes opened, and the look she fixed him with was enough to make his heart quicken up again.

He never quite got used to the way she looked at him after they just indulged in the pleasure of each other’s arms, no matter how they went about it. Her gaze was open and sincere, filled with trust, and with so much love and happiness. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to it.

Aesop never truly realised that his own expression was the perfect mirror of hers.

The teacher brought the hand holding the cloth up, and gently dabbed at the drying seed on her lip and chin, prompting her smile to widen further. “I like it when you do that,” she whispered, as if worried she could ruin the atmosphere that settled between them had she spoken any louder. “Do what?” Aesop spoke, just as quietly, a sly little grin on his face “clean up my mess?”

There was a mischievous sparkle to her eyes. “Actually, I like it when you create it… You’re always such a perfect gentleman, but I know it drives you crazy to mark me like this. Drives me crazy too, when you lose control like that…” she admitted to him, her smile still present.

“Well,” the professor chuckled, tossing the cloth away after his young sweetheart’s face was, save for some perspiration, once again pristine, “I can hardly deny it, can I…” He chased her lips in a kiss, finally embracing her fully, carefully climbing to lie atop her again. His hand caressed her cheek, and Aesop checked her gaze for any sort of discomfort. He was relieved to find none.

“Aren’t you tired?” he asked still, “Are you sure you’ll be alright for a second round?” Her pearly white teeth flashed in the afternoon light of their bedroom, and her eyes once again took on that slightly mischievous look: “Oh, I’ll be up for round two the moment you are up for it.”

Aesop chuckled at her words, his hands moving down to teasingly squeeze at her waist, their bodies flush against each other. He happily settled where he was, his face buried into the crook of her neck, her hands gently brushing through his hair and separating the tangles that formed there during their activity. “Mhmm…” he murmured, his voice low. He again reminded the young woman of a severely overgrown purring cat, “give me a while. Don’t forget I’m no spring chicken.” His words were met with another chuckle, and one of the hands slipped away from his hair to stroke his cheek instead.

“You know,” she said airily, an amused expression in her twinkling eyes, “for you being, by your own words, ‘no spring chicken’, you’ve got enough stamina for at least two or three spring chickens…” Aesop wasn’t able to hold back a snort at her words, and squeezed her again. Slowly, he raised himself up to be able to look at her, once more propping his head on his hand.

He might not ever get fully used to seeing that look of hers, but he got so very used to everything else. To their closeness, both physical and emotional, to their tender banter, their own little inside jokes. And to the two of them seeing the other completely utterly dishevelled like they were now, naked and sweaty with messy hair, and it feeling so natural, so familiar and comfortable. And yet he couldn’t stop being so fascinated, so absolutely taken with the sight of her every day.

He shook his head with a smile.

“You know, we Aurors have something of a… reputation in this regard,” he offered, still grinning. That prompted a curious gleam to her eyes, even though they were currently softened by tenderness. “Oh? And it applies to the former Aurors as well?” Aesop’s other hand gently slid down her body, caressing her wherever he could reach. “If they keep themselves in shape, surely. And I’d been staying in shape for a while now… However, some Aurors tend to get a little… sloppy…” The young woman sucked in a breath when his hand squeezed between their bodies, his fingers teasing at her inner thigh, “wild… Which can be pleasant, certainly… However,” he continued, his fingers getting closer to their prize, “I hear that when combined with precision… the sort of precision potioneers, for example, have…”

Her eyes fluttered when he reached her core, once more dampening under his skillful touch, “I hear it can get even better…”

And with that, his mouth latched onto hers in another searing kiss.

His hand began to move at the same pace as his mouth and tongue, slow but intense, rekindling in her the fire he already made explode once today while his own body recovered.

Indeed, his precision and attention to detail was something the young woman appreciated deeply. He knew exactly how to touch her when he wanted her to come apart in his hands within mere minutes, thighs shaking and lungs sore from moans. Or he could slowly break her apart, piece by piece, coaxing little whimpers out of her while her fingernails broke the skin of his back. He could edge her until she begged him to let her come, and he could make those silky soft walls flutter and contract around him near continuously, the poor girl struggling to stay conscious once he was finally done with her.

As he very gently fondled her lovebud and opening, his mouth moving to her neck instead, the professor considered how he should bring his fiancée to the breaking point tonight. Finally, he decided that, seeing as he didn’t want to add to her soreness, and that they still had a few things to do before they ultimately retired to the sheets to sleep, he would go easier on her today. Not that going easier ever meant worse, of course.

And so, Aesop carefully moved down to once again lie beside her, and then helped her turn so that her back was flush with his chest. Slowly the couple fitted against each other until they were comfortable and Aesop had access to tease his beloved some more before he could fully take her. His other arm became her makeshift pillow, and the girl wasted no time, turning her head to seek his lips.

Several ardent kisses and hot sighs against his mouth later, as Aesop’s fingers explored her plush depths as if it were their first time again, he felt his shaft stir and slowly begin to fill up once more. The heady feeling of desire seeped into his core again, and made him too release a shaky breath against his beloved’s swollen lips. He savoured the feeling of her hand once more messing up his hair, quite addicted to the sensation. As their kiss drew to a close, Aesop instead dragged his nose against her cheeks and jaw, and her fingers disentangled from his hair, her palm going to stroke a line over his waist and hip, and even strayed to caress his buttock, a little smile appearing on (F/N)’s face.

“Stamina and precision, indeed,” she teased, opening her eyes momentarily to look at him. Aesop replied by curling his fingers within her and prodding at the bundle of nerves deep inside, making her throw her head back against his shoulder. A low chuckle left the professor’s lips, and he ground his hips against hers, his stiffening prick bumping against her bum. “When there’s a good motivation,” he purred into her ear, then started nibbling on the sensitive skin below, spreading his fingers inside her in preparation. It wasn’t as needed these days, but Aesop still preferred to take his time rather than risk accidentally hurting her.

When she once more threw her head back and moaned loudly, Aesop chuckled further, and finally pulled his fingers away and licked them clean. He then noiselessly positioned himself at her entrance, and sought out her gaze. The professor looked deep into his beloved’s eyes as he took hold of her hand, bringing it close to his face. “The best motivation there is,” he whispered.

The ring, that once belonged to his grandmother, sparkled and shone on (F/N)’s elegant hand, the physical proof that she gave him her yes. Still looking into her eyes, Aesop slowly brought her hand even closer, until he was able to press a kiss against her ring finger, right above the ring itself. His hips snapped forward, and he filled the young woman to the brim in a single deep thrust, forcing their shared gaze to separate as their eyes fluttered.

He remained unmoving for several seconds, enjoying the feeling of being once more completely sheathed within her, the warm depths enveloping him perfectly. His fiancée breathed slowly, adjusting to his length inside. Aesop's head leaned forward again, and he hid his face into the crook of her neck, her hand still clasped tightly in his. He rocked his hips shallowly several times, looking for an angle that brought the most pleasure to both of them while the young woman hummed happily, her own head coming to rest upon his arm.

They set a slow, unhurried rhythm at first, (F/N) answering Aesop's slow deep thrusts by rolling her hips in time. His mouth began administering small kisses and gentle bites to the warm skin of her neck, his own cheeks feeling hot as he made love to his beloved.

He had to put some effort into raising himself up when her arm curled around his shoulders and neck, but he managed. Their eyes connected once more, and Aesop was again absolutely in awe of her.

She truly looked ethereally beautiful like this, hair messy and face hot, eyes dilated and so sincere. And while months separated them from their wedding, from the day when they would unite officially, bind themselves to one another, as Aesop's gaze melted into her own, he once more realised something he had known for a few years now.

She was his. And he was hers.

“Kiss me,” she whispered, and how could the professor ever refuse her.

His mouth moulded against her own, sweetly, ardently. (F/N) hungrily drank from his lips, tongue lapping at their seam and seeking out his own tongue to engage it in a sensual dance, one into which Aesop readily gave in. His hips snapped suddenly, prompting a gasp from his sweetheart, one that let him take control of their kiss, and he began plundering her mouth in earnest, the rhythm of his hips increasing in speed.

After a while, neither were able to keep up with the kiss much, their breaths becoming shorter and more laboured, their heartbeats growing swifter, their mouths moving against the other’s with little coordination. Aesop shifted, letting go of her hand in order to take hold of her leg, moving it a little forward for easier access, wanting to penetrate her even deeper. His fingers then closed around her hip, and he used the leverage to deliver harder, more intense thrusts. Soon, he was rewarded for his efforts when the young woman went taut against him again, a choked gasp on her kiss-swollen lips, her breath hot on Aesop’s own.

She too moved, removing her arm from around his shoulders and twisting her upper body so that she was lying on her back a bit more and didn’t have to turn her head quite as much to be able to face him. Aesop seized the opportunity to administer another messy kiss to her mouth, while the arm below her head bent at the elbow and his hand closed around her breast again, gently squeezing the soft flesh.

“Oh, Aesop…” she whined breathlessly when he ended the kiss only to lick a long stripe starting at her neck, going over her chin, only for his tongue to shortly plunge back into her mouth in a display of pure, intoxicating decadence.

Soon the room filled with the sounds of their fervent lovemaking, soft sighs and gasps turning into short moans, their bodies, damp from their efforts, sliding against each other sweetly and with practised ease. Aesop’s mouth began to worry at her jaw and neck, and moved even lower. His own groans of bliss were muffled by her soft skin, the vibrations seemingly travelling directly to her core and making her fall apart in his strong arms.

After a particularly hard thrust in that one perfect angle, one that made her entire body give a shudder, the young woman felt the burning coil of an upcoming release materialise in her core out of nowhere, her head falling back onto the pillows and Aesop’s bicep. The potions master, who had been nibbling on her collarbone, planting small marks and bruises along its length, chuckled, which prompted another wave of pleasurable vibrations to run through her, setting her nerve endings ablaze and pushing her further toward that edge.

He could feel her peak approaching, her breathing becoming uneven, her thighs beginning to tremble as he continued moving at the same angle as before. He wasn’t far behind by any means, but felt confident that he’d be able to hold off until he brought her her pleasure. That is, until she cried out for him and squeezed him within her in a vice grip following a particularly hard bite to her neck and a pinch of his fingers to her teat: “Ace! Aesop, p-please, don’t s-stop!” Her walls were quivering around his leaking prick, her hands grabbing for whichever part of him they could reach. Her sounds were pushing to his own climax much faster than he’d anticipated. He rose a bit, a sense of urgency in his voice as he whispered hotly into her ear.

“I-I’m almost there, sweetheart… Come on, c-come for me, love. ”

“Aesop-!”

Her back arched and her toes curled as the coil within her snapped, as if a bolt of lighting suddenly struck her. Aesop groaned at the feeling of her walls closing so, so bloody tight around him. Her body was quivering under the pleasure he brought her, her chest rose and fell hurriedly as she sucked in mouthfuls of air, and she was so amazingly overwhelmed by the sensations.

He let her ride out her orgasm, his rhythm becoming slow and deep, rutting against that bundle of nerves deep inside her as she still convulsed and contracted around him, her head thrown back. Only when her bliss began to ever so slightly subside did he wrap his arms around her waist, holding her firmly in place, and sped up his movements once more. He truly was not far behind her, he could feel his bollocks drawing up, and the pressure in his lower belly increasing with every move. His mouth was inches away from her ear, so she heard every single sound that fell from his lips as he pounded away into her, the muscles in his legs straining and his cock becoming nearly painfully hard as he chased his own climax.

“Mhmm, f-fuck-” he groaned

He was certain he was squeezing her too tight now, but she didn’t show a single sign of discomfort, her head still lolling on the mattress, sweet little whines pouring out of her mouth, her velvety depths still pulsating around him, beckoning him to join her in her pleasure.

Oh, he would.

He tried to hold it, at least for a few seconds, edging himself, but then one, two, three hard thrusts, and he pretty much exploded.

Aesop moaned, his eyes rolling back into his skull, and his arms squeezing the poor girl even tighter, as his cock spilled inside her in several bursts, his hotness flooding her plush depths completely. His hips kept rocking into hers, as if on their own accord while the professor lost himself in the gratification, his body and head suddenly feeling so heavy, so comfortably tired.

Finally his movements drew to a close, his head dropped and he remained where he was, breathing hard, completely high on the endorphins flooding his brain.

A long, content sigh was released somewhere next to his head, and a soft hand caressed his cheek. His head was resting partly on her chest, partly on her neck, his arms were still enveloping her tightly, his softening shaft was still nestled inside her. Aesop would’ve gladly stayed just like this, but as his head cleared of the hot, heady fog of lovemaking, he realised that this position wasn’t probably doing anything for her back, and he rolled off next to her.

To his great pleasure, (F/N) immediately turned around and snuggled into him, seeking his warmth and his love.

As they lay together, satisfied and spent, the two lovers took a moment to just close their eyes and rest.

“Are you alright, my sweet?” Aesop asked, still breathless, only able to open eye for the time being, “I haven’t hurt you any more?” Instead of an answer, what he got was an even fuller armful of his fiancée, one of her hands coming to run through the hair on his chest, damp with sweat. Finally, she spoke: “You worry entirely too much, Ace.”

While a shared bath was still on the schedule before they’d go to sleep, a wandless Scourging charm was used for the time being, just to remove the discomfort of sweat and other bodily fluids drying up on their skin.

The potions master took comfort in the familiar soft scent of her hair, and his arms, while slightly weakened by the sweet afterglow, still had strength enough to hold his fiancée exactly where she was: Exactly where she belonged. Not that she minded, of course, there was no place on earth as safe and comforting as right there with this man.

However, (F/N) had to admit the difficult and strenuous day followed by the couples’ only slightly less strenuous but just as intense activities left her feeling rather ravenous. So much so that even the picture of something as bland as oat porridge left her nearly salivating.

So, she took a deep breath and gathered all of her strength, and made an honest attempt to wiggle out of the professor’s strong hold. And, of course, he did not budge one bit. Another attempt - fruitless again. Aesop murmured unhappily, obviously less than thrilled about the very prospect of releasing her.

“Not ready to let you go yet,” he confirmed her suspicions. The young woman simply rolled her eyes good-naturedly, her own hands coming to caress at whichever part they could reach. “Come now, Ace,” she reasoned, “neither of us ate. I haven’t since lunch - something I’m quite happy about, since otherwise I surely would've lost whatever I ate in a most unpleasant way - and I doubt you had anything other than tea and biscuits since your own lunch.”

Aesop grumbled something unintelligible under his breath, making his young fiancée chuckle: “What was that, dear?” The professor only wrapped his arms around her tighter: “I said I wasn't hungry.”

As if right on cue, Aesop's stomach gave a very telling and loud growl.

“Liar,” (F/N) said only, a victorious smile playing on her face. Aesop finally loosened up his arms a little, but his hands remained on her hips. He raised his dishevelled head, a lazy grin playing on his lips, one that made his sweetheart want to kiss it right off.

“You know, we could just summon something and make a meal out of it here,” he made his last attempt, brow raised.

With a huff, (F/N) finally managed to leave his arms, right away missing his warmth but ready to stand her ground. She stood up next to the bed and placed her hands on her hips: “Aesop Theodore Sharp, it's one thing to indulge in a meal in bed every once in a while, but prepare it there too? That's how you get ants, you know.”

Aesop seemed quite unbothered by her voice, seemingly enjoying eyeing up her bare curves too much.

“Now, where are my knickers,” she asked, looking around the room, mostly scanning the floor. The professor meanwhile stretched his tall body upon the bed further, again rather similarly to a content tomcat. “I think I'm lying atop them, actually,” he admitted lazily, making absolutely no attempt to actually roll over a bit and hand her the garment. The young woman couldn't help but shake her head, both exasperated and loving every second of it.

“Well, may I have them back? In return for a light supper?” She tried, but even as she was speaking her question, she knew what the answer was going to be. Still, Aesop made a small effort and had the decency to appear thoughtful for a moment.

“No deal,” he said finally, “However, I will run us the bath in the meantime, and make breakfast to bed for you tomorrow. In a similar state of undress, if you so wish. How's that?”

With a final chuckle and a roll to her eyes, (F/N) turned around and bent over, at the very least picking up Aesop's shirt to cover up while she made their food, ignoring his little wolf whistle. She closed the two bottom buttons of the shirt, still leaving her cleavage quite visible to his hungry gaze.

“Spoilsport,” he said with a mock-pout, and this time she wasn't able to hold herself back from putting one of her knees on the bed and kissing that silly expression off his face. To Aesop's great displeasure, she soon pulled back and fixed him with a triumphant expression.

“I'll hold you to that bath and breakfast,” she said as she turned away and began walking out of their bedroom.

Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed the story! You can also check this work and all of my other works over on my AO3. Feedback greatly appreaciated ❤️

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