#and force him to stay still and balance them

[thehmn]

Kojima really shot himself in the foot with Quiet because he was always very left leaning with some pretty progressive ideas but unfortunately he’s also very horny and while he sexualize both men and women there are some pretty bad implications of not just having a female character who’s forced to wear as little as possible but also rob her of her ability to speak. I have no idea if he didn’t see how bad that looked or if he was trying to say something that fell completely flat. Either way he fucked up.

Because people got angry at him all the right leaning weirdos decided to adopt him but unlike a lot of left leaning people who get scared and decide to join the right after the left criticized them Kojima doubled down. He doesn’t want right leaning fans.

The first Death Standing had a lot of queer under- and overtones, both gender and sexuality, and it commented on women’s worth being tied to their bodies and ability to give birth and raise children, condemning how women are treated as goods that can be broken and cast aside by men. Fragile was anything but fragile. Her body had been disfigured by Higgs and she didn’t have a desire for children but she was still important. Sam carried his baby Lou on his stomach as if he was pregnant and ended up sharing the parenting with another man, Deadman.

And right out of the gate in Death Standing 2 Kojima lets us know what he thinks of vaccines when Deadman gives Sam three vaccines with instructions on how and when to give them to Lou “because we want her to live a long life” Kojima said vaccinate your fucking kids. And we get a character like Rainy who was an outcast and even declared a witch because people were scared of her powers so she tried to conform to her womanly duties by getting pregnant but people still hated her. It took Fragile to pull her back from the brink and show her that a powerful woman is nothing to be afraid of.

And most depressing of all, the Still Mothers. Braindead women who are kept alive just for their fetuses. Kojima unfortunately proved that he understands America a little too well with that one.

And while people will loudly declare Kojima bisexual we don’t actually know because to my knowledge he has never talked about it. All we’ve got are the things Nicolas Winding Refn, who defines himself as bi-curious/bi depending on the day, has said about their relationship involving sensuality and kink and Kojima hasn’t denied any of it, in fact they seem to have gotten closer over the years. The only reason why I feel comfortable talking about it is because they’re putting it out there and even in their art for all see.

First in Too Old to Die Young where Kojima cuts a man’s finger off while Liv Corfixen (Refn’s wife) watches in a scene reminiscent of kink play (the confusion of sex and violence is a whole thing in Refn’s movies/shows) and then in Death Standing 2 we get two characters “played” by Refn and Corfixen offering to be in polyamorous relationship with Sam who is pretty widely understood to be a symbolic standin for Kojima and his journey LINK They’re not being super subtle about it.

And because of stuff like this the right has now decided DS2 is woke and refuse to play it but unfortunately a lot of people on the left never really expanded their knowledge about Kojima beyond Quiet being a terrible female character so they also refuse to play his games and I’m honestly a bit worried for his future career. I really hope he finds a balance between staying true to his wild and woke self and making money that works for him.

[kathlare]

I just wanted to say I adore ur writing, I’m so happy every time there’s a new chapter :)) I just wanted to ask, totally fine if not, but I was wondering if you could write a present day chapter about Amelie having a bad day with food and Lando just helping and comforting her… not to trauma dump or anything but I resonate so much w this part of Amelie’s story and would love to see it and their dynamic in a chapter 💕💕 sending love xx

Hii!! 💕 First of all, thank you so, so much for sharing this and for trusting me with a piece of Amelie’s story that is very close to your heart — it truly means the world 🥺 I’ve just posted the chapter, and I really hope it’s what you were hoping for.

I also added a little scene inspired by the launch of Lando’s Monster can (I’m so proud of him!) — it felt like a special way to balance the comfort and the joy between them. 🫶 I really, really hope you like it, and that it gives you a bit of the comfort you’re looking for. Sending you so much love!! 💗✨

one step forward, three steps back

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Amelie and Lando share a quiet, emotional morning that evolves into a hopeful walk under the Los Angeles sun. Together, they find moments of belonging and warmth, cementing their bond as they navigate both the harder and the happier moments side by side.

Wordcount: 3.4 k

Warnings: smut

full masterlist // request over here!

June 22nd, 2025 - Los Angeles, CA

Lando was leaning on the kitchen island, hair still a mess from bed, scrolling through his phone when Amelie came out of the bedroom. The morning light in her Los Angeles house was soft, brushing across the wood and marble. She had pulled one of his oversized hoodies down to mid-thigh and was padding quietly towards the kitchen.

Lando smiled when he spotted her.

—Morning, Ames.—

She gave him a faint smile but didn’t reply, brushing hair out of her eyes as she crossed the room to the counter. Lando watched as she opened the fridge, stared inside for a long moment, and then slowly closed it, like the decision was too much effort.

He noticed instantly.

It wasn’t just the hesitation. It was the tension in the line of her shoulders, the way she drew in a deep breath like she had to summon the strength just to stand there.

He set down his phone and came around the counter, brushing a hand down the side of her waist.

—Hey… you okay?—

Amelie shrugged, brushing hair out of her face as she sank down onto one of the stools.

—I dunno. Just… one of those days, I guess.—

Lando didn’t move for a moment, brushing a hand down her spine, brushing the tips of her fingers as she rested them on the countertop.

—I’ve got you, alright? We can make breakfast together if you want. Whatever you feel like. Or nothing at all, if that’s what you need, okay?—

Amelie glanced up at him then, and the vulnerability in those big brown eyes twisted something deep in him.

—It’s stupid. I’m just… tired. It feels harder than it should be, you know?—

Lando pulled her closer until she was resting her forehead on his chest, brushing hair out of her face with a soft hand.

—It’s not stupid, Ames. Never stupid. You don’t have to force it if it doesn’t feel right. We can just sit here. Or I can make something tiny for you. Whatever you want, baby. Whatever feels okay.—

Amelie sighed softly, brushing her nose into the fabric of his shirt.

—Maybe… just some toast? Not too much. Just… something light.—

—Done,— Lando promised, brushing a quick kiss to the top of her head.

He pulled away long enough to grab the slices of bread and set them in the toaster, brushing a hand down her back every time he passed by. Amelie stayed quiet, tracing tiny patterns with her finger on the countertop, looking down like she felt somehow ashamed.

Lando came to stand in front of her, brushing hair out of her eyes and leaning down until she met his gaze.

—Hey, you’re okay. You’re safe. This doesn’t define you, alright? You’re fucking strong, Ames. Stronger than you give yourself credit for. You don’t owe anyone an explanation. Not even yourself.—

Amelie smiled faintly, brushing the tip of her nose against his.

—Thank you, Lan…— she whispered, voice soft and wavering.

He smiled, brushing a hand down the side of her face. —Always, Ames. Always.—

The toast popped up, and he glanced over, brushing a quick kiss to her temple before grabbing the plate. He set it down in front of her, adding a thin swipe of butter and sliding it closer. —Here. Just a bite. No pressure, okay?—

Amelie pulled the plate closer with both hands and sank a little deeper onto the stool. Lando pulled out the seat beside her and sank down too, brushing the back of her hand with the tips of his fingers.

—You don’t have to eat it all. Just… one bite. Whatever you can manage. You’re doing great, Ames. Even if it doesn’t feel like it right now, you’re doing great.—

Amelie glanced down at the toast, brushing hair out of her face and brushing the tip of her finger along the edge of the plate before tearing off a small piece and popping it into her mouth. Lando watched quietly, brushing a hand down the length of her spine as she chewed and gave a tiny nod.

—That’s it, love. Perfect.—

She gave a faint, shy smile. —Why are you always so… patient?—

Lando shrugged, brushing hair away from the side of her face and brushing his nose across her temple. —Why wouldn’t I be? You’re my favorite person, Ames. Always have been. Whatever you’re feeling, however long it lasts, I’ve got you. It’s not going to scare me away. Never has, never will.—

Amelie pressed her forehead down to rest on the curve of his shoulder, brushing her nose into the fabric of his shirt like it was some sort of safe harbor. —I don’t deserve you, Lan…—

He tilted her chin up until those big brown eyes met his, brushing a slow, soft kiss across her nose.

—Shut up with that. You deserve all the good stuff. You deserve all the soft moments and all the days you don’t have to pretend. You’re worth every second, Ames. Every second. Even the shitty ones.—

Amelie smiled then, a genuine, quiet smile as she sank closer, brushing a soft kiss to the line of his jaw.

—Thank you. For seeing me. Even like this.—

Lando pressed a long kiss to the crown of her head, brushing hair down the line of her spine. —That’s my job, darling. All the sides of you. Not just the ‘on’ version. All of it. The messy mornings, the bad days, the long nights… I’m here. Always will be.—

Amelie sank closer to him then, brushing her nose into the crook of his neck, breathing slower now, like some of the tension had started to melt away. Lando wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer until she was almost in his lap.

—Better?— he asked quietly.

Amelie nodded, brushing the barest hint of a smile against the column of his throat. —Yeah. Better. Thanks, Lan. I love you.—

He smiled, brushing a hand down her spine, brushing a kiss to the top of her messy hair. —I love you too, Ames. More than toast, more than pancakes, more than any race win… more than anything. Always will.—

Amelie pulled back just enough to look at him, brushing hair from his forehead, brushing a soft kiss across the corner of his mouth.

—You’re such a sap, you know that?—

He grinned, brushing a finger down the slope of her nose. —Yeah, but you love it.—

Amelie smiled fully then, brushing another quick kiss to his lips and leaning down until her forehead was pressed to his chest, a quiet sigh brushing from her.

In that moment, between the soft morning light and the quiet hum of Los Angeles beyond the windows, Lando knew one thing for certain: whatever came their way, however messy or hard or uncertain it felt, he and Amelie would always have this. The quiet moments. The slow moments. The moments that felt like home. Together. Always.

-------------

liked by sunsetrush, simplando, and others

lanmelie.updates: LANDO JUST POSTED AMES ON HIS STORY!! 🥺💕

View all 49,195 comments

sunsetrush: ames looking like the main character of every romcom ever 😭💖 → landosimp: @sunsetrush lando probably lowkey tryna frame this for his phone background ngl

gamergrl23: this is what couples goals look like, periodt 🔥🔥

melodymo: this is what happiness looks like in 2025 💞 → f1vibes: @melodymo facts, their vibe is unmatched

speedracerz: lando posting ames like "look what i got" 🥵 → lanmelover: @speedracerz lowkey flexing his girl and we stan 👏

f1cutiesquad: ames is literally glowing??? that filter or lando magic? 🤩

speedracerz: bet lando’s gonna post like 10 more stories now, he’s obsessed and we love it 🤡 → simplando: @speedracerz who’s complaining tho? bring the content!!

lanmelsquad: this is peak couple goals ngl 🥲

f1vibes: they lowkey make LA look prettier 😍 → lanmelover: @f1vibes true, it’s the Lanmelie effect ✨

blushqueen: ames looking like she just stepped out of a dream 😍 → lanosimp: @blushqueen and lando’s heart just went boom 💥

sunsetvibes: can’t believe they’re real and not just a romcom plotline 🤧 → amelieday: @sunsetvibes facts. this is pure magic ✨

heartbreaker95: someone get them a reality show already pls 🙏 → lanosimp: @heartbreaker95 i'd binge the heck out of that tbh

sweetandsassy: this is the content i live for. keep feeding us lanmelie pls 💕 → chaoticwags: @sweetandsassy never stopping, we’re addicted

fandomfire: lanmelie making the whole world jealous one post at a time 🔥 → lanosimp: @fandomfire facts, can’t handle this much cuteness lol

discopaddock: THEY ARE THE BLUEPRINT!! 😩💍 → lanosimp: @discopaddock someone call the jeweler already

grandprixgf: lando really said “yes this is my girl” with one story, i’m screaming 🥺 → chattypatty: @grandprixgf he said “mine” louder than words fr

-------------

Later that afternoon, after Amelie had felt a little better and the morning sun had softened into a warm glow, she and Lando found themselves strolling hand in hand down a quiet, palm-lined street in Los Angeles. The air was mild, brushing the bare skin of Amelie’s legs, brushing a faint glow across their intertwined hands.

Amelie pressed herself closer to him as they walked, brushing her shoulder against his. —It feels… different, doesn’t it?— she said softly, brushing hair out of her eyes as she glanced up at him.

Lando tilted his head down, brushing a quick kiss to the top of her hair. —What does?—

—Us. Everything. Moving in together, making your place… our place.— She smiled faintly, brushing her nose down against the curve of his bicep. —It feels like this next chapter is going to be a big one for us.—

Lando smiled, brushing the pad of his thumb across the back of her hand as he pulled her closer. —It is. And it’s about time. I mean, it was never just ‘my’ place. You were already everywhere. Just felt like this was the right moment for it to be official, you know?—

Amelie smiled, brushing a shy glance up at him. —I can’t wait. To have all of my stuff in one place. Not bouncing between hotels and planes and airports. Just… somewhere that feels like ours. Together.—

He pressed their joined hands to his chest as they walked, brushing a soft kiss across the knuckles. —That’s all I want, Ames. You, me, and somewhere that feels like home. The summer break is going to be perfect for it. No races, no schedules… just making that space ours. Slowly, one piece at a time.—

Amelie smiled wider then, brushing hair out of her eyes as she sank closer to him. —I’m excited. Even if it's just putting up a picture or finding a spot for all the scrunchies that somehow end up in every room. Just knowing it's ours makes it feel… safe. You make it feel safe, Lan.—

Lando glanced down at her then, brushing hair out of her eyes, brushing a soft kiss across her temple. —That’s because it is safe, Ames. Whatever we build there, it’s going to be ours. Our space. Our rules. Our routine. Even if that routine is ‘wake up late, cuddle too long, forget about unpacking the moving boxes for another day.’—

Amelie giggled quietly, brushing her nose down into the fabric of his shirt. —That does sound like us.—

Lando grinned, brushing a hand down the length of her spine. —Exactly. It doesn’t have to be perfect. Doesn’t have to be a show home. It just has to be ours. And that’s more than enough for me.—

Amelie stopped walking for a moment, brushing herself closer until she was resting her hands against the warm fabric of his shirt, brushing a slow, soft kiss across the corner of his mouth. —That’s all I’ve ever wanted, Lan. Just somewhere we can be ourselves. Together. No noise. No pressure. Just… this. You. Me. Our space. Our world.—

Lando sank closer, brushing a long, languid kiss across her nose before brushing their foreheads together. —Then that’s what we’ll have, Ames. This summer. All summer. Forever. Whatever it takes to make this chapter the best one yet, okay?—

Amelie smiled, brushing a slow, shy kiss across his mouth, brushing the words like a quiet vow. —Okay, Lan. Forever sounds pretty perfect to me.—

He pulled her closer, brushing hair down the side of her face, brushing a long, slow kiss to the top of her head as they started walking again, hand in hand, towards the future. A future that felt brighter, warmer, and more like home than anything before.

In that moment, surrounded by the quiet hum of the city and the warmth of each other, it felt like more than a house or an apartment. It felt like belonging. Together. Always.

-------------

liked by lanmelie4ever, wagzzzz, and others

lanmeliedaily: spotted 👀 | Lando & Amelie strolling hand in hand in LA today 🌴☀️

View all 38,894 comments

monacomami: lando in la? ames in la? THEY ARE SO ATTACHED I LOVE IT → wagzzzz: @monacomami can’t spell “la” without “lanmelie” 😩

papayajamz: him looking down at her like she invented air 👁👄👁 → paddockprincess: @papayajamz ‘you’re so tiny, must protect’ energy

f1tealeaker: THEY’RE SO CASUAL BUT SO CUTE?? I NEED THIS LEVEL LOVE → wagwannabe: @f1tealeaker no fr, they’re just living life and making us delulu 😭

lanmelieislife: lando in la means ames in la too… THEY’RE GLUED TOGETHER FR 😩♥️ → papayaforeva: @lanmelieislife he said “you’re not escaping me” and i respect that

f1gossipluvrr: why does he walk like he’s protecting national treasure?? → landosbabie: @f1gossipluvrr bc she IS the national treasure

monacokids: these two invented la walks idc idc → papayadrip: @monacokids lanmelie canon event right here

f1trashaccount: no one: lando when amelie is in the same city: 👀👀👀👀👀 → papayashipz: @f1trashaccount man goes full ‘she mine, thanks’ every time

lanmelie4ever: THEY JUST WALKIN AROUND LA BUT MY HEART RACING LIKE IT’S THE LAST LAP 😭 → mclarenbabes: @lanmelie4ever SCREAMING. THEY BREATHE TOGETHER AND WE NEED CPR.

f1gossipgod: the way she looks like summer and he looks like a man down bad for summer 😂 → lanmelie2cute: @f1gossipgod he’s down bad for HER every season!!

lanmelie4lyf: she doesn’t walk… she glows 😩 → papayafan99: @lanmelie4lyf that’s why he walks like a bodyguard 😂

f1trashfan: THEY BOTH GIVE ME MAIN CHARACTER SYNDROME FR

papayacrush: if lando doesn’t put a ring on it soon i’ll sue → speedstarlando: @papayacrush and if he doesn’t, I’M applying for the job!! 😤

-------------

After their walk, as the afternoon sun started melting towards the horizon, Amelie and Lando spotted a tiny corner shop down the street. Ash, Lando’s photographer and videographer, was strolling a few steps behind, camera hanging from one shoulder and a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

They’d all been talking about the special Monster Energy can Lando was releasing – the one with the bold design inspired by his helmet.

—Should we…?— Amelie glanced towards the shop, brushing hair out of her eyes.

Lando gave her a crooked grin. —Why not? Let’s see if it’s out yet.—

The three of them pushed open the door to the tiny shop, the faint jingle of the bell above making the clerk glance up briefly before going back to a newspaper. The shop was cramped and cozy, lined with shelves of drinks and snacks. They wandered towards the fridge, and then Amelie spotted it first.

—Lan…— she breathed, brushing a hand down the side of his shirt as she pointed.

Lando followed her finger, and then it hit him — a row of cans lined up, unmistakable with their neon-yellow design and bold black splashes. The lettering across the top was crisp and sharp: Lando Norris.

For a second, he just froze, brushing a hand down the glass. And then Amelie squeaked — an actual squeak — and started bouncing in place, brushing herself closer until she was pressed right up against him.

Lando’s mouth fell open, brushing a hand down the glass like he was making sure it was real, and Amelie was already grinning from ear to ear.

—Oh my god, Lando! It’s here! It’s you!— she bubbled, brushing herself closer until she was pressed right up against him, bouncing like an excited kid.

Lando glanced down at her, and suddenly he was grinning too — that shy, boyish, almost disbelieving smile that came out when he was genuinely overwhelmed.

—That’s… my helmet design. My name. Right here,— he breathed, brushing a hand across the row of cans like he half expected it to disappear.

Amelie giggled, brushing herself closer, brushing both hands down Lando’s arm like she was trying to ground him. —Babe, this is huge! Do you realize how cool this is?! Not only are you on a can, but it’s your design. That’s… that’s you, Lan! All over the place!—

Lando smiled down at her, brushing hair out of her eyes, brushing the tip of his nose down the side of her temple. —And you’re just as excited as I am, huh?—

Amelie pulled back just enough to beam up at him, brushing herself closer until she was resting both hands on his chest. —Are you kidding?! This is one of those moments we’ll tell people about for years. “Remember when we walked into that tiny shop and found your special can for the first time?”—

She pressed herself closer and rose up on tiptoe, brushing a quick, soft kiss across the tip of his nose. —I’m so proud of you, Lan. So, so proud. You deserve this. You deserve all of this.—

Lando smiled, brushing hair out of her eyes like she was the only person in the room. —Means more when you’re here, Ames. Always has. Always will.—

He pulled the door to the cooler open and started grabbing a couple of cans, brushing a hand down Amelie’s spine as she bounced beside him, brushing hair out of her eyes every few seconds like she still couldn’t quite comprehend it.

—Ash, make sure you get this for the archive, alright? Ames jumping like she just found treasure, me trying to be cool and failing miserably… this is gonna make a killer montage later,— Lando said, brushing a wink towards the camera.

Amelie gave a shy laugh, brushing herself closer as Lando pulled one can out and pressed it into her hand like it was made for her. —Here. First can goes to you, Ames. You’re the reason all this feels like it means something, anyway.—

Amelie looked down at the can, brushing her thumb across the bold black and neon design, brushing hair out of her eyes as she smiled shyly. —Well… in that case, I’ll be keeping this one forever. Might even frame it when we move in. “The first Lando can,” right in the living room for everyone to see.—

Lando grinned, brushing a hand down the line of her jaw. —Better be in a spot where I can tease you about it every morning. Might as well be a centerpiece. You deserve to have a piece of this win too, Ames. You’re my biggest fan. Always have been.—

Amelie sank closer then, brushing herself into his chest, brushing a long, slow kiss across the corner of his mouth as Ash snapped another photo. In that tiny shop, surrounded by drinks and snacks and a camera capturing every moment, it felt like one of those quiet victories that meant more than any trophy.

Because it wasn’t about a can. It was about belonging. Together. Always. In every moment that felt like the best one yet.

-------------

liked by sunsetrush, simplando, and others

landosgarage: Lando spotted on Amelie’s story tonight 😂💚⚡️

View all 74,827 comments

f1tears: not him looking like a kid on christmas morning for some monster cans 💀

vroomvroom: ams really said “here have all the monsters” and he acted like she gave him the moon 😂 → landosfluff: @vroomvroom he’s obsessed and we’re obsessed with him being obsessed

lanmeliezz: LANDO we get it!! she’s the best thing in ur life!! we can tell!! → chaoticwags: @lanmeliezz he’s down so bad it’s almost painful 😭

papayagurlie: why is he holding those cans like newborns i’m crying

landosgf: this man acting like it's the first can he's ever held 😭 → papayakisses: @landosgf it's LAUNCH DAY!! let him be a proud monster daddy!!

f1gossiper: lando looking like he just unlocked the secret boss level of life → papayagirliee: @f1gossiper “you can have wins, but can you have personalized monster cans?” - Lando Norris, 2025

papayastans: LANDO holding those cans like it’s a baby reveal 😭 ITS LAUNCH DAY LETS GOO!!

quadrantgirlie: bro is grinning like he won the WDC but it’s just Monster cans 😭 → f1frenzzy: @quadrantgirlie when ur girl supports ur launch like it’s the biggest thing in the world 🥺

ln4babes: LANDO’s “i have a launch today” smile is the CUTEST THING 😩

f1memesdaily: that smile is NOT about the cans, that’s about Amelie telling him she’s proud 😭 → papayaxlove: @f1memesdaily EXACTLY!! she’s got him wrapped around her finger and we LOVE IT 🥺

papayafan21: LANDO acting like a proud dad with those cans 😭 it’s launch day and he’s GLOWING!! → landopodiumpls: @papayafan21 he's like “these are my children” fr

[fisheito]

hello... please consider... yakumo in:

the classic traditional style qipaos

the modernised and modified ones

bonus: modified hanfu

he would look wonderful wouldn't he? all the more delectable and sashimiable?

ahaha...ahah...AHAHHAH.AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAAHAHAHAHAAHHAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

[bunnis-monsters]

Hybrid Shelter

Ch1

prologue

chapter 2

warning: milking the cow/bull hybrids, handjob, thigh fucking

summary: after becoming a full time worker at the hybrid shelter, you realize it’s not going to be as easy as you thought.

🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃

Working at the Hybrid Shelter full time was as hard as you thought it would be.

The younger hybrids started fixating on you lately. When you had only been working part time shifts, you only saw them in passing.

Now, every day you walked in, ready to wake them up and get them all fed.

“Mama!”

A puppy hybrid greeted you with a yip, their puppy teeth gnawing in your pants leg as you prepared a few bottles. “Mama, play?”

You gently pulled the puppy hybrid off of your leg, keeping him balanced on your hip. “Not right now, pup. You all have to have your bottle first.”

A few kitten hybrids toddled and crawled around nearby, while an infant mouse hybrid wailed from his crib.

The nursery was a fairly new addition to the hybrid shelter. In the past, only adults had been allowed to stay, meaning occasionally some men with children would be denied shelter.

Now they were both accepted. A few of the babies here belonged to men in the shelter, while others had no parents.

As you fed the infant mouse hybrid, a puppy hybrid knocked on the door. “Is my brother awake?”

Alex was 19, and had been separated from his parents a few years back. His brother was 3 years old, and stayed in the nursery while Alex tried to find work and a stable home for the both of them.

“Yeah, he’s right here.”

The puppy hybrid that had been gnawing on your pants before, Ollie, toddled to his big brother and decided to chew on him instead. “Hey, I told you not to do that…”

Though the older pup scolded the little one, there was no bite behind his words. He picked Ollie up and licked his head, giving him a quick bath. “You will be good for her today, alright? I’m mopping the halls today, so I’ll be close by if you need me.”

You buried the infant in your arms before giving him a diaper change and tucking him back into bed. Privacy was something a luxury when you lived in a shelter, so you tried to give the two some space.

“Okay, bubba. I won’t pee on the floor!”

A nurse took over the nursery once the shelter opened, and you left to begin your other daily chores.

“(NAME)!”

You were nearly tackled by the cat hybrid you had tamed a few weeks ago. “Hey, Midnight. How’s everything going?”

He purred and butted his head against your cheek affectionately, immediately beginning to groom and preen you. “It’s always scary when you’re not here. I don’t like the doctors or the other hybrids.”

That seemed to be relatively common with the abused hybrids. They didn’t like the situation they’d been forced into, having no home left to return to and being abandoned by abusers they still loved.

“You should try getting along with the others, okay? You know next week we’re introducing you to the group, your quarantine is almost over.”

He didn’t respond for a moment, too busy rubbing his scent on you. “Don’t wanna… can’t I just come home with you?”

As much as you wished he could, all employees were forbidden from adopting any hybrids from the shelter. If they wanted to, they’d have to quit.

“You know I can’t… at least not right now.”

You didn’t want to give him hope, but you also knew that the possibility that he could come home with you eventually was the only thing keeping him going.

After he ate his breakfast and you spent some time cleaning his space and making sure he had enough enrichment for the day, you left to continue your chores.

Your first stop was the domesticated hybrid building.

The more common type of hybrid to be abandoned were the domestic ones. Puppies, cats, bunnies, birds, goldfish, and hamsters.

“Have you guys had breakfast?”

Several heads turned to look at you once the door opened. “(Name)’s here!”

The hybrids gathered around you, all sniffing and licking your body and hair. You had grown used to this, and simply waited until they were satisfied before speaking. “I’m assuming you have, considering you all smell like bacon and eggs.”

“Mhm, it was good! Alex said you would be here soon!” one of the puppy hybrids said, his tail wagging furiously.

A goldfish hybrid swam in the pool area, poking his head out of the water. “(Name), you said you’d swim with me this week.”

“I will, Goldy, but it’s gonna be after I finish up with the wild building.”

The cat hybrids rubbed against you as a bunny hybrid relaxed in your lap. “The wild building? I can’t believe you’re still meeting with them every day.”

A week ago, you were tasked with helping to domesticate the wild animals in the shelter. That was no easy task, considering it consisted of big cats, wolves, and other dangerous hybrids that saw humans as a source of food.

“It’s not all that bad, I have a few allies there that keep me safe.”

The bunny hybrid, Momo, huffed and nibbled on your finger. “Wild hybrids will always be wild at the end of the day. Don’t be fooled, they’re only being nice to you so they can get what they want.”

“What do they want..?”

None of the hybrids seemed like they wanted to answer that particular question.

“Well… you all will be getting a new roommate this week. He’s had a tough time, so I hope you’ll remember that when I introduce you to him.”

They all glanced at one another. “We’ve all had a hard time, (Name). As long as he doesn’t attack us, we won’t do anything.”

If only you could promise such a thing. With Midnight, you weren’t so sure.

As you did some minor cleaning up around the building, you were approached by a hamster hybrid.

“Quinn? Something wrong?”

He looked down at his feet, his hands twisting and pulling at the hem of his shirt. “… it’s just…”

The man sighed, puffing out his chubby cheeks. “Isn’t it strange? Lately, you’ve been the only one visiting us every day.”

You blinked, pausing your work. “The only one..?”

“Mhm. Before, multiple female workers would come to check on us. Of course none of them were as personable as you. They came in, asked how we were doing and cleaned up, then left.”

That was rather confusing. You always remembered the entire place brimming with female employees. Though lately, it was rare to spot more than a handful in each building.

“I’m sure we must be short staffed at the moment. Are you looking for any employees in particular?”

He shook his head, looking up at you. “No, we don’t even know the names of the others.”

Quinn left after that, and you pushed that information aside for now. You’d ask your boss about it later, your work came first.

Though as you comforted a small parrot hybrid after a nightmare, you wondered if they had been receiving the same care from the other employees. You knew that there was only so much one person could do, and that everyone’s role to play was different…

But did they even ca-

You shook your head, carefully wiping away the hybrid’s tears before settling him down for a nap. You shouldn’t think about the shelter that way. When you started working there, you saw firsthand how draining it was to work with so many different hybrids.

Perhaps they were all taking a break, and a new rotation of employees would be coming in to fill in for them…

Once the parrot hybrid was asleep, you tiptoed out. The poor thing was nearly your age, but he still needed to be soothed to sleep. His beautiful feathers had been plucked out of stress, leaving bald patches that were covered up by a fluffy sweater.

You had a lot of things to do every day. Your job was to comfort, feed, play with, and socialize the hybrids and get them to the point they could either be adopted, get a job, or be reintroduced to the wild.

It was strange, though. Despite the fact the shelter encouraged each member to strive towards some sort of goal, none of the hybrids there had managed to achieve anything.

They stayed there, stagnant and bored out of their minds.

Perhaps they just needed a little push. That’s what your boss told you he needed you for. Most of the hybrid seemed to enjoy your presence and wanted to impress you!

As you moved towards the farm building, you wrote some notes next to each hybrid’s name.

“(Name), how’s it going?”

You jumped when you were embraced from behind, your cheeks turning red. “C-Cecil, you shouldn’t be outside of your building!”

The white tiger hybrid chuckled, purring as his large, rough tongue licked your hair. He always ended up giving you such a huge cowlick!

“Mmm, I just returned from the infirmary, actually.”

You immediately softened. Cecil had a number of health problems, stemming from the bad breeding conditions that white tiger hybrids were born from.

Although he looked like a beautiful white tiger hybrid with striking grey eyes, his vision was impaired and he suffered chronic aches and joint pain.

Cecil couldn’t live with the other wild hybrids due to his immune system deficiencies, so he stayed with hybrids like him with similar health problems.

“What did they say..?”

A purr left his throat. He knew bringing up his worsening health always meant a little extra time with you. “They think that the organ transplant is working well, and that I’ll be able to eat solid food again soon.”

“That’s great news!”

His cheeks warmed when you patted his head and gave his ears a scratch. “Go rest, okay? I’ll come check on you when I visit the sickbay.”

Cecil watched you go, clutching his chest. He hoped he’d live long enough to someday make you his.

Your next stop was the farm. Outside a few sheep and pig hybrids trotted about, gracing or lying atound in the sun. When they noticed you, they gathered at the fence.

“(Name), right now might not be the best time to… uh… go in there.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And why is that?”

The group glanced at one another, and you joined them in the grass. A young lamb curled up in your lap, suckling on one of your fingers as he napped.

In hushed whispers, the sheep across from you began to speak. “Well, no one has been by the farm to milk the bull and cow hybrids. They’re… uh… a bit testy right now.”

You heard a few off handed comments and complaints from your coworkers that had to take care of the cow and bull hybrids, but you never had any problems with them!

“It’s my job to ensure every hybrid here is comfortable, safe, and healthy. If no one else is here to milk them, I’m sure I can handle it.”

Though the other hybrids looked nervous, they didn’t stop you.

Your phone struggled to load the protocol for milking the cow and bull hybrids as you walked in. The sound of frustrated and pained groans could be heard from the back.

“Hello?”

The sounds stopped, an eerie silence falling over the barn. The sudden creaking of the back door slowly opening made you jump.

Before you could call out again, you were pulled into the back.

“(Name)… please… you have to help us!”

You felt arms wrapping around your body… and several long, wet things rubbing against you…

“Beau?”

Beau, one of the new cow hybrids that arrived last month mooed nervously. His eyes were full of tears, and his tongue gave your cheek a lick.

“No one has been by to milk us… it’s been two days, the bulls are angry and pent up, and…”

As he sniffled, you reached out to pet his head. “Hey, it’s okay. I came to take care of that for you. I used to milk cows with my grandpa, he had a farm.”

Beau blushed, his tail swaying. “W-well… with male cow and bull hybrids… it’s uhm… a little different.”

He slowly pulled back, and you finally got to see what was rubbing against you.

His fat cock was poking out, his balls heavy and swollen from the days he hadn’t been milked. It was all coming together now…

It took you a moment to gather your thoughts. You were a professional, and these hybrids were in obvious pain! You needed to take care of them, no matter now embarrassing it may be!

The arousal growing between your legs was the wordy part. It was making you horny, seeing so many cow hybrids desperate for your touch.

“They usually have a machine for us to g-get off with…” Beau murmured, twiddling his thumbs. “Sometimes we can even use it ourselves if we think we need to… but it’s gone.”

Being understaffed was one thing, but the disappearance of machinery that bettered the hybrids’ lives was… concerning. Where had it gone?

You sighed softly, the information finally loading on your phone ten minutes too late. A bucket was placed on the ground, and you slowly reached out to grab hold of Beau’s cock.

His hips bucked as you stroked his shaft carefully, aiming the tip towards the bucket. A whine left his throat, and with a few strokes he came.

The semen smelled like milk, but had a thicker and creamier texture. Your eyes were focused on the tip of his cock, how it oozed and twitched with every touch.

God, you just wanted to take it into your mouth and-

“Ahh, that’s so much better…” Beau said, interrupting your dirty thoughts. You blinked and your cheeks heated up as you let go of his softening cock.

“I’m… glad I could help.”

After milking every cow hybrid, you moved to the bull hybrids’ quarters. There were only three of them, since taking any more on may result in territorial behavior.

The moment you walked in, your skirt was lifted up and a cock was slipped between your thighs.

“Heard our (Name) was coming to milk us ourselves…” Brody cooed, already beginning to fuck your thighs.

“We’re way too big to jerk off, missy. We’ll be using these.”

The three took turns fucking your thighs, their thick cocks occasionally brushing against your wet panties. This wasn’t the correct protocol, what if someone saw? Would you be fired!?

Did you even care when you were hoping they’d pull your panties to the side and fill you with their milk instead of that bucket?

The bulls weren’t easy on you, leaving your thighs a sticky mess before it was all said and done with. You were almost disappointed they didn’t just go ahead and fuck you…

You left the barn, face burning with shame and arousal as you ran towards the staff building.

After a shower, you’d have to continue on with your duties…

If only you knew how your day would progress from there… you may have just gone home.

———————

NSFW TAGLIST: @avalordream @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat @bubblez-blop @sunshineangel-reads @heroneki-neko @soapybabyboop @anonymouskiwi @flamefoxx @sandramalikstyles-blog @breathingstarlight

[stylesispunk]

'Landed too hard'

outbreak!joel miller x f!reader

Summary: You save Joel's life from raiders but instead of thanking you, he gets mad at you.

or

You get hurt and you are forced to be vulnerable with each other.

wc: 7k

warnings: age gap, established relationship, angst, fluff, miscommunication, insecurities, mentions of blood, and fluff

a/n: i'm slowly coming back to this with this baby here that was on my drafts. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated 💌

The forest was too quiet for your liking. No birds, no wind, just the soft crunch of the snowy ground beneath your feet as you followed Joel, who was ahead of you, and Ellie. There was something in the air this day, eerie silence pressing on your chest, tension, and Joel had been on edge all day; his broad shoulders seemed tense under his jacket, his grip on the rifle was tighter than usual.

It felt like the premonition of something bad coming your way. So, you kept your knife close and your gun pressed under your hand. Staying alert in case something bad could happen.

“We’ll set up camp soon,” Joel muttered exasperated, his voice low without looking behind to you and Ellie.

Ellie groaned. “Finally. My feet feel like they’re gonna fall soon.”

You gave her a tired smile at her remark, but your eyes stayed on Joel's back. His jaw was tight, the scar on his temple crinkling deeper. You knew him well enough to read the signs; he was worried. More than usual today.

That’s why you didn’t even hear them coming.

One second, you were walking behind Joel, and the next, chaos broke out. Shouts echoed through the trees. Five, maybe six men, all armed, came out from nowhere. Joel shoved you and Ellie behind an overturned log.

“Stay down,” he growled, pressing his rifle into your hands. “If anyone gets close, you shoot. Don’t move unless I say so.”

“Joel—”

“Stay here."

You swallowed your fear and nodded, grabbing Ellie and pulling her down. Joel stepped out, drawing their attention, firing a shot that took one of the men down, then another, and so on.

But the rest came fast. Through the cracks in the log, you watched Joel fight. He moved like a man who’d done this a thousand times before, as you already know, but even then, it was too much to bear; he didn't feel strong enough as before. One of the raiders tackled him, and suddenly, Joel was on the ground, with one of those men’s hands wrapped around his throat, squeezing hard.

“Shit,” you whispered, your heart pounding so hard you could barely hear Ellie’s panicked breathing next to you.

Joel clawed at the man’s wrists, his face turning red, veins bulging in his neck. He wasn’t going to get out of it, and you couldn’t just sit there watching the man you loved die in front of you as if it wasn't worth saving.

“Stay here,” you told Ellie, voice shaking from rage.

“Wait, what are you doing?!” she whispered.

Your body moved before your mind could argue. You were already running before Ellie could have the chance to stop you.

You tackled the man strangling Joel, knocking him off balance, but before you could finish him, another set of hands grabbed you from behind. You struggled, kicking and clawing, managing to land a sharp elbow into the man’s ribs before twisting free. The first man lunged again, but you dodged, feeling the burn of a knife slicing across your cheek. The pain barely registered as you drove your own knife into the man’s neck, then turned and plunged it into the second attacker’s chest before he could think of recovering. Warm blood splattered your hands as the man crumpled, gasping his last breath.

You stood there, panting, adrenaline rushing through your veins.

Joel coughed violently, rolling onto his side, his face pale and drenched in sweat. You dropped to your knees beside him, your hands hovering uselessly. “Joel? Hey, hey, are you okay?”

He didn’t answer right away, still gasping for air. When he finally sat up, his brown eyes locked onto yours, not with gratitude, but with pure, burning rage.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” he rasped, still coughing.

You blinked, the adrenaline still rushing through you. “I-I-I had to...He was going to—”

“And you didn't listen to me!" Joel slammed his fist into the dirt, his whole body trembling with anger. He hated when you had to put yourself in danger because he hadn't been strong enough to save the day. “I told you to stay hidden! What if he’d killed you?!”

“Well, he didn’t kill me,” you stated, “I saved your life.”

“And you risked yours doing it." His voice echoed through the trees, sharp and unforgiving. You felt your chest tighten, heat rising in your throat.

“Well, thanks to that risk you are not fucking dead." you spat back.

Joel stood up, wiping the blood from his hands. His jaw clenched, but he didn’t say anything else. The space between you felt impossibly wide.

He ran a hand over his face, stepping back like he couldn’t even look at you right now. "You put yourself in danger. You could’ve been killed. Do you even get that?"

"I get it. I just saved your ass." You shot back, the weight of the moment crashing over you. "And all you can do is yell at me?"

He exhaled sharply, his hands curling into fists before he turned away. "I won't do this with you."

"Fine," you bit out.

The air between you felt thick, suffocating. You glanced at Ellie, who stood off to the side, arms crossed as if sensing the tension.

You lifted a hand to your cheek, your fingers coming away sticky with blood. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, the cut on your cheek burned, you sucked in a sharp breath. Ellie’s eyes flicked to the wound, concern flashing across her face, but she didn’t say anything. Joel still wasn’t looking at you, his back rigid as he adjusted his pack.

"We should get moving," he muttered, voice strained.

You nodded, swallowing down the ache in your throat. Without another word, the three of you fell into step, the silence stretching between you like the open wound on your cheek.

That night, you found a small clearing tucked between big trees, far enough from the road to feel safe enough to spend the night. The cold had settled deep, and you pulled your jacket tighter around yourself as you sat near the weak glow of the fire. Joel had barely spoken a word since the fight, his focus set on keeping watch, his back to you.

You weren’t hurt by his words or the outburst he had, but by the idea of him willingly dying and feeling at peace with it. How easy would it be for him to leave you behind and on your own?

You dismissed your thoughts as you dug through your pack for a rag, pressing it against the wound on your cheek. The sting made you wince, and you cursed under your breath.

A quiet shuffling caught your attention, and you looked up to see Ellie kneeling beside you, her brows furrowed.

"Here," she said, pulling a small bottle of alcohol from her pocket. "Let me help."

You hesitated for a moment, then gave her a small nod. She dampened the cloth with the liquid and reached for your face. The touch was gentle, but the sting made you hiss.

"Sorry," Ellie murmured, biting a laugh, concentrating as she cleaned the cut. "You’re lucky it’s not deeper."

You let out a small chuckle, though there wasn’t much humor in it. "Lucky isn’t exactly the word I would use to describe this day.”

Ellie huffed, finishing up before pulling a bandage from her pack. "Well, you’re not dead, so that counts for something."

You smiled faintly, glancing toward Joel. He still hadn’t turned around. You sighed, looking back at Ellie. "Thanks, Ellie."

She just shrugged, but there was warmth in her eyes. "Anytime."

As the fire crackled softly between you, you finally felt a small sense of comfort, at least from Ellie. Joel, on the other hand, was still a storm brewing on the other side of your little camp.

Joel sat a few feet away, his gaze drifting to you as he kept watch. He noticed the way you shivered, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself, but still, you slept. He hesitated, jaw tightening as he debated with himself. Then, with a quiet sigh, he shrugged off his jacket and carefully draped it over your sleeping form.

You stirred slightly at the added warmth, a small, unconscious sigh escaping your lips, but you didn’t wake. Joel lingered for a moment, watching you, before settling back down next to you as if he needed to remind himself you were still here.

The fire in your camp had burned down to glowing embers, the scent of smoke mixing with the cool morning air. Joel sat near it, his hands wrapped around his thermos, sipping coffee out of it, his eyes occasionally flicking over to where you slept.

Your back was to him, your body curled slightly, the jacket pulled high over your shoulder. The cut ran along your cheekbone from the fight the day before, reminding him of how you always put yourself in danger for him.

He hated himself for it. How he had come to the point where he felt useless to protect you.

Now, you looked peaceful despite the frown that creased your forehead. Joel knew that look. He knew you too well to know what was happening.

Ellie stirred next to him, stretching before getting to her feet. She glanced at you, then back at Joel.

“Should I wake her up?” she asked, rubbing her tired eyes.

Joel shook his head. “Not yet.”

Ellie raised a brow. “Why?”

Joel sighed, glancing at you again before taking another sip of coffee. “She has a frown.”

Ellie blinked. “Yeah, because she’s mad at you. Even in her sleep.”

Joel exhaled sharply through his nose, but there wasn’t much fight in it. “No. It’s different. She gets that when she gets migraine.” He ran a hand over his beard, glancing at you again. “Just let her sleep a little bit longer.”

Ellie’s teasing smirk faded slightly, replaced by something softer in her gaze, “You really pay attention, huh?”

Joel didn’t answer right away. Instead, he took another slow sip of coffee, staring into the fire, fading. “Yeah,” he admitted quietly. “When it comes to her, of course I do.”

Ellie sighed, dropping back down next to him. “So are you gonna fix this or what?”

Joel tensed, setting his cup down beside him. “She doesn’t wanna talk to me.”

“Yeah, because you yelled at her.” She reminded him.

Joel rubbed a hand down his face. “She shouldn’t have done what she did.”

“She saved your ass, Joel.”

Joel’s jaw clenched. “That isn't the point.”

Ellie scoffed, shaking her head. “Yeah, it kinda is. She did what you would’ve done for her.”

Joel was silent, his gaze dropping to the ground.

“Do you think she would be fine if you were dead?” she pressed on, sighing.

Instead of an answer, Joel reached for his bag, unbuckling the strap. He knew exactly where to look; tucked inside one of the side pockets were the pills he always carried for you, just in case.

Ellie, who had been watching with quiet curiosity, tilted her head. “Wait… do you carry her pills?”

Joel didn’t look up as he pulled out the small bottle, checking how many were left. “Yeah.” His voice was gruff, like he didn’t think it was something worth mentioning.

Ellie crossed her arms. “Huh.”

Joel finally glanced at her. “What?”

Ellie smirked. “Nothin’. Just, you act all tough, but you’re, like, secretly the softest person ever for her.”

Joel rolled his eyes, muttering, “Keep it to yourself, kid,” as he moved toward you.

You stirred slightly as he knelt beside you, brushing your hair back from your face with a careful hand. The sight of the cut on your cheek made his stomach twist again, but he pushed the feeling down. He had already failed to keep you from getting hurt once; he wouldn’t fail you now.

Gently, he set the bottle of pills down next to you, along with a canteen of water. He knew you still weren’t talking to him, but that didn’t mean he was going to stop taking care of you.

As he sat back, Ellie watched him with something unreadable in her expression.

Joel sighed, rubbing his thumb over the strap of your bag.

Ellie nodded. “You’re doing the right thing, at least.”

Joel wasn’t sure about that. But as he sat there, keeping watch while you slept, he figured it was all he could do for now.

The first thing you noticed when you woke up was the dull ache in your head. The second was the soft sound of the fire crackling and fading nearby. You blinked against the morning light, your body still heavy with exhaustion from the last day.

And then you saw the canteen and the small bottle of pills sitting beside you. You didn’t have to ask who put them there.

Your gaze flickered to Joel, who sat a few feet away, his back turned slightly toward you. He was sharpening his knife, and Ellie sat across from him, kicking at the dirt with her boot, sneaking glances at you like she was waiting to see what you’d do.

You swallowed, your throat dry. Carefully, you pushed yourself up, wincing as your muscles protested. Your fingers brushed against the bottle of pills, and you hesitated before finally picking it up.

Joel’s voice came before you could say anything. “Drink some water with that.”

It was quiet. Gruff. Like he wasn’t sure where the two of you stood after yesterday.

You pressed your lips together, debating whether to respond, but you didn’t have the energy to fight with him again. Instead, you obeyed, twisting the cap off and dry-swallowing the pill before chasing it with a sip of water.

Joel didn’t look at you, but you saw his shoulders drop just a little.

Ellie, of course, didn’t stay quiet for long. “Sooo, does this mean you guys are done being mad at each other?

You shot her a look. “Ellie.”

“What? I’m just saying—”

Joel cut in; his voice flat. “Eat your breakfast.”

Ellie huffed but dropped it, tearing off a piece of jerky with her teeth.

You sighed, rubbing your temples before stealing a glance at Joel. His eyes were still fixed on his knife, but you could see the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers gripped the handle a little too tightly.

He was waiting. For you to say something. For you to forgive him.

You sighed, pressing your fingers against your temples in a weak attempt to ease the pressure in your skull. It wasn’t working. Nothing ever really worked, except for him.

Joel had a way of grounding you when the pain got bad. He didn’t always have the right words, but he never needed them. He had his own way of taking care of you, of letting you know he was there. And right now, all you wanted was for him to kiss your temples the way he used to. The way he always did when you were hurting.

But things weren’t the same. You had fought, you had pulled away, and he had let you. And now, even though he was right there, he felt miles away.

You swallowed hard and shut your eyes, trying to push down the disappointment twisting in your chest. It was stupid to want that from him right now. After everything, you shouldn’t need him like that.

Except you did.

Joel shifted, and you felt him move closer, his presence clear even before he spoke. “Did you take the pills?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

There was a long silence, and then, so softly you almost missed it— “Still hurts?”

You hesitated. Your pride screamed at you to say no. To brush him off and keep that last little bit of distance between you. But you were tired.

“Yeah,” you admitted.

Joel exhaled slowly. And then, finally, finally, you felt his fingers brush against your jaw, tilting your head just enough so he could lean in.

His lips pressed against your temple, lingering for just a second longer than they needed to.

You closed your eyes, breathing him in, savoring the feeling of his lips on your skin.

“Get ready, we have to go now,” he said, still closer to your face.

You nodded, your throat tightening at the sudden shift back to reality. The moment was brief, fleeting, just like every soft thing between you and Joel seemed to be.

He pulled away first, his hand dropping from your face like he hadn’t just touched you just a moment ago. Like he hadn’t just kissed you the way he always used to when you were hurting.

You cleared your throat, pushing yourself up slightly, ignoring the dull ache in your chest. "Yeah, okay," you muttered, rubbing at your face as if you could wipe away the lingering warmth of his touch.

Joel stood up, already shifting back into that closed-off version of himself, the one that had been there ever since your fight. The one who didn’t know how to bridge the gap now.

Ellie walked in just as you were attempting to stand, her eyes flicking between the two of you. "You guys look weird," she said, frowning.

Joel sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Not now, Ellie."

She just smirked, clearly entertained by whatever tension was hanging in the air. "Whatever you say, lovebirds."

You rolled your eyes, reaching for your bag to distract yourself. Your fingers trembled slightly as you adjusted the straps, but you pretended not to notice. Joel pretended to, but you could feel his gaze lingering on you, watching you too closely, like he always did.

The road stretched ahead, cracked and broken, nature reclaiming what once belonged to people. You walked in silence, the weight of the morning still pressing against your chest. Your head ached, but you bit down on the pain, refusing to let it slow you down.

Joel was beside you, his pace slow, his presence solid as ever. But something about him felt distant. He was looking at you, and you could feel his gaze flickering toward you every few moments.

Before, his eyes had been filled with something warm, something certain. But now? Now, it felt like he was watching you from behind a wall, like he was making sure you were still there but refusing to let himself feel anything about it.

Ellie, for once, was quiet, kicking a stray rock as she walked ahead, letting the tension settle between the two of them.

Joel’s outburst had been raw and desperate, yes, but now, you saw it for what it was. Fear. Not just losing you. But what did it mean to him if he did it?

Because Joel didn’t think he deserved to have you. He thought he wasn’t enough, that he never had been. And maybe, he would never be the man you need it.

You swallowed hard, your fingers tightening around the strap of your bag. "You don’t have to keep looking at me like that," you muttered, not even turning your head.

Joel tensed beside you. "Like what?"

"Like you're waiting for me to cry to let you in and forgive you, you shout at me and I'm angry about it."

His jaw ticked, and for a moment, you thought he wouldn’t say anything at all.

"I am not," he said, voice rough. A lie.

You stopped walking. Finally, you turned to face him. "Then what is it?" you asked, your voice softer than you meant for it to be. "Because you had been like this for days, something's been different, and yesterday you just broke."

Joel exhaled slowly, looking away, his hands on his hips, his fingers flexing. "Nothing’s different."

You huffed out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. "Bullshit."

Ellie stopped a few steps ahead, glancing between the two of you like she wanted to intervene but thought better of it.

Joel shifted uncomfortably, his shoulders stiff, his mouth opening—then closing again. He had no answer. No real one, anyway.

Because the truth was, it had never been about you. It had always been about him. About the way he would rather push you away than let himself believe, even for a second, that he was allowed to keep you. That you would want to stay.

That you would choose him. But you were tired of being the only one fighting for this.

So, you just nodded, setting your jaw. "Alright," you murmured, turning back toward the road, ignoring the way your chest ached. "If nothing’s different, then let’s just keep moving."

He heard the way your voice broke at the end, and he just watched as you joined Ellie.

Joel stood there, hands tightening into fists at his sides as he watched you walk away. He’d done this again.

Ellie shot him a glance, her expression unreadable, before she turned her attention back to you. She said something low under her breath, nudging your shoulder. You didn’t look back.

And Joel? Joel just stood there, rooted in place, watching the one thing he was most afraid of slip through his fingers.

Because, deep down, he knew. It wasn’t the world that would take you from him. It was him. It was a matter of time.

A few hours later, when the cold still found its way deep down your bones. You followed Joel and Ellie into the old market, the air inside thick with dust and the remnants of a world long gone. The faded signs above the shop windows once advertised fruits and vegetables, but now they were nothing more than silent witnesses to the decay around them.

Joel stepped inside first, scanning the area with ease. His hand never strayed far from the rifle slung across his back. He wasn’t just looking for supplies; he was looking for danger, as always, and he was ready to find it. You watched him move with that quiet confidence that made him seem invincible.

He disappeared behind a corner, moving into the heart of the market.

Ellie, always ready for adventure, shifted impatiently next to you. “Is it safe?” she whispered, her voice barely audible in the stillness of the market.

You didn’t answer right away, your eyes fixed on the place where Joel had vanished.

“He’ll let us know when it’s safe,” you said quietly, not taking your eyes away from him.

Ellie raised an eyebrow, clearly not fully convinced. “Yeah, but what if-”

You cut her off with a shake of your head. “He’s careful. He’ll check everything first.”

She didn’t seem entirely satisfied with the answer, but she stayed quiet. You both waited in silence, the only sounds the distant hum of the wind and the occasional creak of the building settling.

Then, Joel’s voice echoed from ahead. “Clear,” he called out as he reappeared from behind a row of shelves, his gaze briefly flicking over you before he turned to lead the way deeper into the market. His expression was unreadable, but you could sense the wariness beneath it.

His fingers found their way to your shoulders, his touch was brief, just the slightest brush of his fingers against your jacket. A silent reassurance. Or maybe a habit he couldn't break.

You didn’t react, didn’t turn to look at him. Instead, you focused on scanning the shelves, looking for anything useful. Cans, medical supplies.

Ellie was already rummaging through a shelf, muttering under her breath about how people really liked canned beans before the world went to hell. Joel moved ahead.

You bent down, shifting through a pile of toppled boxes, when Joel’s voice came from behind you again, “You good?”

It was automatic, the way he asked. Like, even when he was keeping his distance, he still couldn’t help but care.

You hesitated, keeping your back to him. “Yeah.”

Another pause. Then a quiet, “Alright.”

But it wasn’t alright.

Not the way his voice sounded. Not the way your chest ached every time he was close, but not close enough. And definitely not the way his fingers had lingered just a second too long on your shoulder again, as if he didn’t want to let go.

Joel was already moving toward another section of the market, scanning the rows of empty shelves, searching for anything of value. Ellie had drifted further ahead, already rummaging through a crate she found. You stayed close to the wall, the building’s dilapidated structure making you nervous, but you tried not to let the unease show.

You took a few more steps, carefully picking your way over the cracked floor, when suddenly, the ground beneath you gave way with a sharp, unsettling creak. Before you could react, your foot twisted, the bone snapping like a twig under the weight of the fall.

A sharp, searing pain shot through your ankle as you cried out, unable to stop yourself. The world spun for a moment as you collapsed, hands pressing to the ground to catch yourself, but the pain in your ankle was unbearable. You let out a sharp gasp, fighting the urge to cry out again as you felt something shift beneath the skin; your foot didn’t feel right.

"Shit," you muttered, trying to stay calm, but panic crept in with each breath. Your heart raced as you instinctively tried to pull yourself up, but your foot wouldn’t hold any weight. You couldn’t put it down.

Ellie’s voice broke through the fog of pain, distant but growing closer. “What happened?”

“Sweetheart?” Joel’s voice followed almost immediately. You could hear the panic lacing his tone, the urgency in his steps as he turned back toward you. You were grateful for his presence when you saw him, his figure coming into view, moving fast.

He saw you on the ground, your face twisted in pain, and his heart dropped. "Damn it," he muttered under his breath, kneeling down beside you with a speed that surprised you. His hands were gentle, but you could hear the frustration in his voice as he assessed the damage. "What the hell happened?"

“I—I fell,” you stammered, gritting your teeth as you tried to hold back more of the pain. You couldn’t focus on anything other than your ankle, the way it throbbed, the way your body seemed to give way under the weight of it.

Joel’s face hardened, his jaw clenching as he reached down to carefully touch your injured ankle. “I’m gonna need you to stay still, alright?” His voice was calm, but there was a warning edge to it. He was trying to hold himself together, trying not to let his worry show, but you could see it in his eyes. His hands worked quickly, checking for anything more serious, his brow furrowed with concentration.

“Ellie, get over here,” Joel called out, his voice low and strained.

Ellie rushed back toward you, eyes wide with concern as she knelt beside you. “Shit, are you alright?”

“I’ll be fine,” you said through clenched teeth, trying to sound stronger than you felt. “It’s just my ankle.”

Joel’s gaze flicked between you and Ellie, his mind clearly racing. “We need to get you out of here, now.” His hand gripped your shoulder for a moment, his fingers digging into the fabric of your jacket as if grounding himself in that brief contact.

Ellie was already standing, her expression determined as she took a deep breath. “I’ll go grab what we need.”

Joel nodded, but his focus never left you. He reached down, his hands carefully lifting you as he positioned himself behind you. "I'm gonna carry you. It's gonna hurt a little, but I need you to hang on."

You bit back a hiss of pain as he adjusted his hold on you, making sure not to jostle your foot too much, but you couldn’t suppress the way your body tensed at the movement. The pain was still sharp, but something was comforting in the way Joel’s arms secured around you.

“Joel,” you whispered, too exhausted to speak louder.

“I got you,” he muttered back, his voice almost a promise. "Just hang in there."

As he started to move, carrying you carefully toward a safer corner, you could feel your heart rate begin to slow, your pulse steadying slightly in the rhythm of his steps. But the ache in your ankle was still lingering.

You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to block out the pain, trying to find some semblance of peace in the way Joel had his arms around you. Because no matter how mad you were, no matter how much you weren’t talking to him, Joel Miller was always going to take care of you.

Joel helped you settle into a quiet corner of the abandoned store, easing you down onto an old crate. He crouched in front of you, his hands working carefully as he pulled your boots off, careful not to jostle your ankle too much.

Ellie hovered for a second, glancing between the two of you, then rolled her eyes. “Alright, I’m gonna go check the other side of the store. Try not to kill each other while I’m gone.”

You didn’t respond. Joel didn’t either.

Once Ellie disappeared, Joel focused back on your ankle, pulling out a roll of bandages from his pack. He was quiet as he started wrapping, his fingers gentle but firm, pressing just enough to support your injury.

You watched him for a moment, then let out a quiet scoff. “You don’t have to pretend you care about this.”

Joel’s hands stilled. His jaw ticked. Slowly, his eyes lifted to meet yours.

“Do you think I’m pretending?” His voice was low, rough. Almost offended by the way your voice sounded saying those words.

You looked away, focusing on the peeling paint on the walls. “I don’t know what you’re doing, Joel. One second, you’re mad at me. The next, you’re acting like...like this.” You gestured vaguely at him. “Like it actually matters.”

Joel exhaled through his nose, sitting back on his heels. “It does matter. You are the most important person to me. ”

You let out a bitter laugh. “Does it? Because you sure as hell didn’t act like it when you were yelling at me.”

His hands curled into fists at his sides. “I was mad because you almost got yourself killed.”

“I was saving you.” You protested.

“I don’t need saving,” He replied, rough as always.

Your eyes snapped back to his, anger flashing in them. “And I don’t need you acting like I don’t have a say in whether or not I protect you."

Joel sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. He looked exhausted, like he was carrying too much weight on his shoulders. “You don’t get it,” he muttered. “I can’t—” He stopped himself, shaking his head.

You frowned, your voice softer now. “Can’t what?”

His gaze met yours again, something raw behind it. “I can’t lose you.”

The words hit you hard. For a moment, neither of you said anything. The only sound was the faint wind outside, the rustling of leaves.

You swallowed, your throat tight. “So do you think I want to lose you?”

Joel’s expression softened just a fraction. He sighed, reaching forward, his hand hesitating before resting gently on your knee.

Your breath caught. The fight, the tension, it was still there, but underneath it was something deeper.

���You are always so willing to die,” you sobbed, your voice breaking. “Like you’re just waiting for the exact moment. Like, none of this matters to you. Like, I don’t matter.”

Joel’s breath hitched. His grip on you tightened, grounding you, but he didn’t say anything.

You sniffed, shaking your head. “Do you even know what that does to me? How it makes me feel?”

He swallowed hard, his throat working around the words he wasn’t saying.

“You walk into danger like you’ve already made peace with dying,” you continued, your voice raw. “And maybe you have. Maybe you don’t care what happens to you, but I do, Joel. I care. And you make me watch you throw yourself into danger like it doesn’t matter if you make it out. Like you don’t care if I have to watch you—”

Joel let out a slow breath. Then, finally, he spoke. “I do care,” he said quietly. “More than you know.”

You let out a bitter laugh, swiping at your tears. “You sure don’t act like it.”

Joel’s jaw clenched. His gaze dropped for a moment before he forced himself to look at you. “I’m not waiting to die.”

You scoffed, looking away.

“I’m not,” he insisted. His voice was rough, firm. “I just…I don’t know how to protect you.” He exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face before gripping the back of his neck. “I spent twenty years not giving a damn about whether I made it out of alive. And then you—” He stopped, shaking his head like he didn’t have the words.

You stared at him, waiting. His gaze met yours again, and for the first time in a long time, he looked vulnerable to your eyes.

"Do you think I would survive without you?" You asked him.

"You're strong," he stated.  

"That doesn't matter if the person I love and I protect throws himself to death," you said, tired of the cycle.

“I’m not trying to--” he started, but you cut him off.

“Yes, you are,” you snapped, your voice trembling. “You act like you don’t care what happens to you, but I do, Joel. I do. And I don’t know what’s worse, watching you run into danger without thinking or knowing that if you died, you’d probably think I’d just move on.”

His brows furrowed. “That isn't-"

You swallowed, your fingers tightening around Joel’s wrist. “Do you love me, Joel?”

He didn’t answer right away. His jaw tensed, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. For a moment, you thought he wouldn’t say it, that maybe, after everything, he’d still hold back.

But then, his hand moved, cupping your face gently, his thumb brushing over the cut on your cheek. His touch was careful, reverent, like he was memorizing traces of your face.

“I do love you,” he murmured, voice rough with emotion. “More than I know how to say.”

Your breath stilled.

Joel exhaled, shaking his head slightly. “More than I ever meant to. More than I know what to do with.”

Your heart ached at the honesty in his voice.

“Then stop trying to leave me behind,” you whispered, pleading to him.

He looked at you with such intensity, as if he was trying to see past the pain and fear, trying to understand something that had always eluded him.

“How do you even love someone like me?” Joel’s voice cracked slightly, the question laced with vulnerability, a side of him you rarely saw, something raw and unprotected. He was always protecting people.

Your heart hurt at the sound of it. You wanted to reach out and erase the doubt from his mind, to tell him that he didn’t have to question it. But instead, you just looked at him, letting the silence linger for a moment, trying to gather the right words to answer him.

“Joel,” you whispered, your voice soft but firm, “I love you because you’re you. Because through all the broken pieces, all the walls you’ve built around yourself, I still see the man who’s been there for me. You’re not perfect, and none of us are. But you’re the one I want. You’re the one I need.”

He closed his eyes for a brief moment, as if taking in your words, processing them, before meeting your gaze again. His expression softened, the tightness in his jaw easing, but there was still that guarded look in his eyes. He was trying to fight something inside himself, something he had carried for so long.

“I don’t deserve you,” he said, almost to himself, but you heard it loud and clear. The doubt in his voice, something he couldn’t shake.

You reached up, cupping his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you, forcing him to see the truth in your eyes. “Stop saying that,” you said, your voice trembling with the weight of your emotions. “You deserve me. You deserve everything good that’s coming your way. I’ve seen who you are, Joel. You’re not what you think you are.”

“Why do you think I keep pushing you away?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper now, like he was afraid of the answer himself.

You leaned in a little closer, your forehead nearly touching his, and your breath mingled in the quiet space between you. “Because you’re scared of letting yourself love me the way you do,” you said softly. “You’re scared of losing me. But pushing me away won’t make it any easier. It’ll just leave you with a regret you can’t undo.”

He inhaled sharply, his chest rising and falling as if your words had struck a chord in him, but it wasn’t enough to break him completely, not yet.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “But I’m afraid if I let myself love you fully... if I let myself need you the way I do… I won’t be able to protect you. I can’t live with that.”

A single tear slipped down your cheek as you reached up to wipe it away, the tenderness in his voice catching you off guard. You could feel the pain in his words, the depth of his fear, and it only made you love him more.

Joel’s hand gently moved to your ankle, and despite everything that had just been said, the tenderness in his touch wasn’t lost on you. His rough fingers brushed against your skin as he carefully positioned your leg. You winced slightly at the discomfort, but it wasn’t the pain from your ankle that caught your attention; it was the way his eyes never left you, the quiet care he was showing in that moment.

“Hold still,” he murmured, his voice low, trying to keep his own emotions in check. You could tell he was trying to be calm for you, even though you knew he was anything but calm inside.

Joel’s fingers moved gently over your ankle, wrapping the bandage with the precision of someone who had done this a thousand times. His touch was careful, and for once, it was soft, more like the careful tenderness of someone who didn’t want to hurt you, rather than the harshness that often came with survival.

You winced slightly when the bandage tightened, but he immediately eased his grip, looking at you with concern.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“It’s fine,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. You weren’t sure why, but his care made you feel vulnerable in a way you weren’t used to.

Once your ankle was properly secured, Joel leaned back, looking at you for a moment, his eyes dark with something you couldn’t quite place in them. He didn’t speak for a while, just stared at you like he was trying to decide something in his mind.

Joel’s gaze went to your ankle for a moment, then, unexpectedly, he leaned forward, his lips brushing the soft skin of your bandaged ankle. It was a gesture so tender, so unexpected, that you couldn’t help but laugh softly.

“Don’t laugh,” he murmured, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, though his voice remained quiet, almost apologetic. “I’m just trying to make it better.”

You shook your head, still chuckling lightly, the sound feeling strange after everything that had happened. “I wasn’t laughing at you, Joel,” you said, meeting his eyes with a smile. “It’s just... never thought you’d be kissing my ankle better.”

Joel’s smirk softened into something more tender, and for a moment, there was nothing between you but the quiet understanding. His eyes dropped back to your ankle for a brief second before lifting to meet yours once more, his expression serious.  Without another word, he moved closer, his hand reaching to cup your face gently, his thumb brushing over your skin with the same tenderness he had shown when tending to your injury. You could feel the weight of his gaze on you, his lips just a breath away.

And then, without hesitation, he kissed you, soft, lingering, as if it was everything he hadn’t been able to say before. You leaned into it, letting the kiss speak for you both, the tension between you finally easing, at least for this moment in the middle of this kiss.

“Oh, come on! Seriously?” Ellie’s voice cut through the moment like a knife.

You and Joel broke apart instantly, your breath still tangled in his, as you turned to see Ellie standing in the doorway with her arms crossed, a smirk pulling at her lips.

Joel cleared his throat and sat back slightly, rubbing a hand over his beard like that would somehow erase what she’d just walked in on.

Ellie rolled her eyes. “I leave you two alone for five minutes, and you’re already making out. Unbelievable.”

Your face burned, but you couldn’t help but laugh at her dramatic tone. “Ellie—”

“No, no,” she interrupted, waving a hand. “I mean, it’s kinda sweet, but gross.”

Joel shot her a look, his voice flat. “Ellie.”

“What?” She shrugged, grinning. “Just saying. But, uh—maybe save the romance for later, lovebirds? We kinda got shit to do.”

Joel exhaled sharply, shaking his head, but when he glanced at you again, you caught the ghost of a smile on his lips.

“C’mon,” he muttered, standing up and offering you a hand. “We should get movin’.”

You took his hand, squeezing it briefly before letting go. As you stood, Ellie shot you both a smug look before turning on her heel.

As she walked away, you heard her mutter under her breath, “God, I hope I never have to see that again.”

As soon as you put weight on your injured ankle, a sharp pain shot up your leg, making you wince. You bit down on a curse, trying to tough it out, but Joel noticed immediately.

“Joel, it’s fine, I can walk,” you protested, but you could see the look in his eyes.

“Not gonna argue with me on this one. Up you go.” Before you could protest, he crouched slightly in front of you. “Get on.” He waited for you to settle onto his back, and you reluctantly complied, knowing it would be easier than walking on your own.

You blinked at him. “Joel, I can—”

He shot you a look over his shoulder. “I'm not asking...”

Ellie snorted. “Just get on, lovebird.”

You sighed, but there was no real fight left in you. Carefully, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders as he hooked his arms under your legs and lifted you effortlessly.

“Easy, old man,” you teased, resting your chin on his shoulder.

Joel huffed, adjusting his grip. “Call me that again, and I’m dropping you.”

You laughed softly, “Thanks,” you muttered after a moment, your face buried in his jacket, still feeling the warmth of his body. The way he carried you felt like a sense of safety you hadn’t realized you needed until now.

You sighed against him, letting yourself relax just a little as Joel carried you forward with slow steps. Without thinking, you pressed a soft kiss to the side of his neck, just above the collar of his jacket.

Joel stiffened for half a second, his grip on your legs tightening before he exhaled slowly. “You trying to distract me?” His voice was lower now, rougher.

A smirk played on your lips. “Is it working?”

He huffed, shaking his head. “Maybe.”

You laughed, placing another kiss on the same spot, “I love you, Joel.”

His steps faltered for just a moment, barely noticeable, but you felt it. His grip on you tightened, his fingers pressing into your legs like he needed to ground himself.

He didn’t answer right away, just kept walking, his jaw tight. For a second, you thought maybe he wouldn’t say anything at all.

But then, in that quiet, gruff voice of his, he murmured, “I love you too, darling. Always”.

[syluss-littlecrow]

release

<Caleb x fem!reader>

where both you and Caleb end up doing more than butt heads about his given curfew for you.

genre/warnings: smut, pwp, mutual pinning, mutual obsession & possession, jealous!Caleb breeding kink, multiple orgasms, a lot of cum..., perverted!MC, friends to lovers?, squirting, unprotected sex, morning sex, pure Caleb brain rot, it gets pretty nasty

a/n: Caleb, Caleb, CALEB XIA YIZHOU 😭😭 the way I've been giggling over Caleb while watching his story and going back to my home screen with Sylus looking at me with his arms crossed.... Anyway, enjoy this Caleb brain rot 🥹🩷 I'll do one with Caleb's military air force uniform when I can 😔🫡

I JUST SAW THE NEW BANNER DROP IM NOT OK IF ANYONES WONDERING.

w/c: 3.5K

Effortless. That is what Caleb feels like when his affections come to you. It bubbles and boils over when he thinks he's able to put a lid over it, and it overflows instead. It leaves him so defenseless. Yet, he can't seem to stop. It's the only thing that keeps him going in this hell. 

The only thing he feels is the metallic necklace barely weighing on his chest. It almost feels like you're here with him. 

And if you are, he wants to keep you here with him. Forever.

His eyes slowly open. His eyes focus on the hologram clock hovering at the side. 

You're supposed to be back already. 

Caleb contemplated on driving out to find you since he has your location pinging on his phone.

Since when did you have that many friends in Skyhaven? Why doesn't he know about them?

He checks the messages he's sent you, all unread. 

Caleb has to remind himself to stop clenching his jaw and biting his tongue. 

His stare towards the door grows anxious by the minute. Then he strengthens his resolve and marches towards the door, ready to leave and look for you. 

The second he pulls down the door handle, the jingle of the door unlocking from the outside sounds and the door swings open, making you and Caleb jump when he catches you in his arms from bumping into each other.

“Caleb!” You squeal, flustered at the way you completely ran into him. His warmth is radiating over to your skin. “Are you okay? Where were you gonna go?”

You watch a small pout form on his lips. He truly looks like a puppy when he does that, you can't help but think. 

“Look for you”, he curtly replies, making sure you've regained your balance before he releases your arms.

You straighten your posture, and sheepishly touch the nape of your neck, immediately avoiding his gaze. 

“Ah, right. Well, I got carried away with chatting with my friends and all…” 

Caleb crosses his arms. His pout turns into a frown, and his eyebrows are scrunched. 

Shit. He looks mad.

You inch closer to him, your fingers grazing over his knuckles. 

“I'm sorry, Caleb. Don't be mad okay? I'm home now, safe and sound, in the flesh, aren't I?”

Caleb breathes steadily, keeping his expression the same, but when you take his palm and nuzzle your cheek against it, Caleb feels the anxiety and frustration dissolve. He wants to reprimand you about the curfew, and why he implemented it in the first place. If you’ve stayed missing for a second longer, he would have completely lost it. But the moment his palm nearly touches your lips, it all dissipates, as if it never existed. 

Caleb exhales a sigh of defeat, letting it go just this time, alongside the countless times he did. 

“Go shower. I left the heater on for you.” 

You respond with a cheeky smile that makes something in Caleb’s chest bloom, and he lets you go, watching you disappear into your room. 

Caleb hears a knock on his door. He walks over and opens it, watching you coming into view. 

“Is there something you need, pipsqueak?”

You squeeze through the crack of the partially opened door and occupy his bed. 

“I'm just bored.”

Even though Caleb cocks his eyebrow, he still sprouts his smile, walking over to join you on his bed.

“Not because you're trying to make it up to me for coming back past curfew?”

Shit. 

Your smile playfully drops to a pout. “I got carried away yapping with my friends. You know I didn't mean to…” 

Caleb crosses his arms again.

“I could tell. My messages were all left unread.”

You curl your fingers to your lips when you realise you've been caught.

Caleb seems upset but you still see the softness beneath. 

He sighs. 

“I'm doing this for your own good, pipsqueak. I don't like you getting caught up in this.”

Caleb likes to think that it is that way, but he knows that it's more than just that. 

“As you can tell–” you’re showing off your body–your arms first then your legs, then your abdomen. But what Caleb didn't expect you to do was lift up your shirt slightly, your skin exposed, and have your shorts hike up your thighs, just to prove your point. “Nothing! You can check me for tracking devices too if you want to.” 

Something snaps in him.

“So do you let your friends inspect your body like that?” 

He crawls onto the bed, watching the smile slowly drop from your face. 

Caleb’s fingers trace your bare skin, drawing goosebumps from how ghostly the touches feel. His fingers slide from the top of your knees, and towards your thighs.

“Do you know how worried I was when you didn't answer my messages?”

You’re about to part your lips to respond, but he cuts you off. 

“I was wondering what conversations you were having that you ignored me.” 

“Caleb–”

He’s completely trapped you against the headboard of his bed. He's trapped you with his stare. 

Caleb inches closer, until he's close enough. His eyes glance down to your lips for a split second before his gaze meets yours again. 

Your breath is shaky when he leans in closer. 

Then he turns away. 

What the fuck? 

You watch in disbelief as he pulls away, your breath still caught in your throat from the tension.

Caleb’s signature smile returns and you feel his palm stroke the back of your head. 

“You should go back to bed. It's late.” 

He turns to open his door for you to leave. 

“Maybe I should start coming home later too.” 

He pauses in his steps. 

“I don't think that's a bright idea, pipsqueak.”

You slide off his bed and walk towards his door. 

“Maybe not. But I have brighter ones that consist of escaping your curfew.” 

You’re ready to leave the room with your victory, that is, until the door before you completely shuts. You see his shadow tower over you from behind. 

You turn to face Caleb, your arms are crossed. 

“Didn’t you ask me to go to bed?” 

“Changed my mind. I wanna make sure you're thoroughly inspected.”

You’re facing Caleb, back on his bed again. He starts with your face, but he lets his fingers linger around your lips, brushing across your bottom lip. You turn away, and his fingers catch your chin, forcing you to face Caleb.

“No looking away.”

His eyes are devouring every patch of skin that exists on your body. Even though you're clothed, you feel naked when he has his eyes on you this intensely. His fingertips trace back to your lips and he slides it down painfully slowly–past your chin, down your neck, through your sternum, past your stomach, and stops right above the elastic of your shorts. 

You want to shift, but you realise you can't–your body suddenly feels weighed down to the bed, and that's when you realise Caleb has you held down with his Evol.

The softness in Caleb’s eyes disappears, and something else replaces it. You watch him tug your shorts off you, and all you can do is watch helplessly. 

His kisses tickle from your ankle, and he builds them upwards at an agonising pace, each kiss feeling warmer as he travels up your thigh. 

Your heartbeat only accelerates from there, watching Caleb inch closer and closer to your cunt. Your thighs tense up from the sensitivity, the warmth of his lips spreading over your skin when you feel his tongue come in contact with your skin. 

“That tickles”, your voice is soft, as if the defiance in your tone before never existed.

Caleb’s lips press against your clothed pussy. Despite the fact that you’re trembling slightly, you've completely soaked your panties, and Caleb is more than happy to soak them even more. 

He buries his tongue, wetting the fabric even further. The pleasure draws soft moans, but evidently, it's not enough. 

“Caleb… Could you lighten your Evol?” You plead. You want to feel him so bad. 

Your body instantly lightens, and you almost think you're gonna fall off the bed. 

Something else holds you down this time, and it's Caleb. 

He tilts your chin up to have your lips meet his, now his kisses melting off the thoughts in your brain. Warmth burns through your skin. It takes you seconds to realise Caleb is lifting your shirt off you.

The clothing article is the next victim tossed somewhere else on the bed. 

You take his cheeks to your palms.

“I really need you now, Caleb.”

The softness returns to his eyes momentarily. 

“Are you sure you're okay with this?”

“I'll hop off right now and head straight to bed if you don't”, you huff. Fuck, the anticipation is just clawing through your insides, begging for Caleb to do something.

He playfully scoffs. 

“We both know you wouldn't.” 

Caleb tugs your panties to the side, and lines himself to your hole.

He thrusts into you in one swift motion, and you feel it all the way in. It knocks your breath out of you. Caleb watches you helplessly gasp for air and adjust to his size. He’s just filled you so full. 

He’s still supporting you so you don't fucking pass out. He feels you scratch all over his back from the pressure but he stays still, at least, until you've adjusted. 

“Shit. You're so fuckin’ warm for me”, he hisses into your neck, trying his best not to thrust into you. You feel so tight for him, he feels so good just staying there.

He stretches you open for him–your pussy fluttering at the feeling of him filling you up. The pressure slowly fades and you quickly adjust to his size.

Your vision blurs when he thrusts into you from below–the sensation so overwhelming that it's making you tear up. 

“So good”, you sigh, struggling to keep your eyes open–almost impossible when his cock is hitting your g-spot over and over again. Sparks burst into your eyelids whenever he hits the spot and it's evident that he knows he’s able to unravel you just like that, so easily. 

“Caleb…”, you moan. Caleb’s still fucking you, feeling the way you're just squeezing him, watching the way your fingers have gone clawing his back to his bedsheets, the way your tits are bouncing from fucking you, the way your eyes practically form hearts when he knows he's hit your sensitive spots.

“Faster, please. You feel so fucking good.”

He knows you shouldn't have said that. You're the only person who can rile him up like this. How the hell are you making him break his resolve when he's supposed to be upset with you?

He leans in, practically hovering over you. His fingers cup your cheek and he forces you to meet his violet eyes. 

In your fucked out haze, you blink, confused when he slows down. He pulls out completely, and you're about to complain until he rolls your soiled panties off your legs, tossing it to somewhere on the bed. 

You gasp when you feel his thumb graze over your wet and throbbing clit. 

“I'm gonna make you wonder what the fuck wrong with your body”, Caleb’s voice reaches your ears. His words sends a shiver down your spine.

“Your little pussy is gonna throb every time you think of me.”

That's all the warning he gives before his arms tower over you, holding your wrists down above your head. 

He fucks you into an orbit and you're practically helpless–forced to take his thrusts over and over. But fuck, it feels so good. It feels like fucking heaven. 

You like how dizzy it makes you feel. You like how he's not stopping, no matter how much tears stream down your face, and how pathetic you sound crying and moaning his name. 

“Fuck! Caleb, it's too much–” you whimper, the strange feeling building up in your stomach. It feels like it's about to snap any second. 

He acknowledges your words, but he doesn't bother slowing down. 

“Didn’t you promise me to be a good girl and take all of it?” 

“Caleb–!”

Your voice sounds so heavenly when you call his name.

The fluids fountains out of you, soaking everything near it's vincity–including the both of you. Your orgasm continues to wash over you and more fluids spray out.

Caleb watches you squirm and jolt while you make a mess all over him. 

He lets go of your wrists, the slight redness forming onto your skin, and his thumb caresses your bottom lip. 

Despite your arms feeling sore from resisting against his hold, you wrap them around his neck, pulling him close to catch his lips. He's taken back for a split second, but he returns the kiss, letting his soft moans drown into your lips while you clench around him.

When you both pull back, it's Caleb’s turn to have his eyes glazed and his cheeks dusted a soft shade of pink. 

“y/n, if you keep doin’ that–fuck”, Caleb groans, his fingers closing into a fist against the sheets. His breath is shaky. The euphoria is threatening to spill over–the fact that you're trapping him in like this with you, just the two of you solely existing together right now–he could get high off this feeling. He doesn't need anything else. 

“I'm so close. Shit.” You watch the bead of sweat trickle down his temple, down to his cheek, to his chin, and then it disappears into the mess the both of you made below. 

Caleb’s voice makes you refocus on him. 

His palm presses against your cheek again, his thumb brushing lightly on the corner of your lips. 

“You're gonna take all of it like a good girl, yeah?” 

You nod, almost too eagerly. Caleb can't help but think that your face after being fucked looks breathtakingly beautiful. It makes him want to hide you further. The world doesn't deserve someone like you. 

He crashes his lips with yours, melting into the kiss while he pumps you full with his thick cum–making sure he has himself seated deep inside so nothing spills out. At least, not until he pulls out.

The high slowly descends, and the both of you are left panting, getting lost in each other’s eyes just for that moment before Caleb slowly pulls out. 

Caleb then reaches for the glass of water perched on his nightstand to offer you. You take a good few sips of water, and hand it back to Caleb, who takes a couple of sips as well. He notices the way your cheeks are still flushed and that you're blinking more. He plants the empty glass onto the nightstand, ready to carry you to wash up and probably change the sheets after.

In a daze, you notice Caleb’s cum seeping out of your hole in small loads. You wet two fingers and slide them to your pussy–and you push the thick fluids back in, your body jolting in pleasure while you're pretty much fingering your pussy with Caleb’s cum.

Caleb swallows hard while he watches you pleasure yourself. He’s about to say something but you cut him off.

“Your cum keeps leaking out”, you point out, giving him the full view of your cum-soaked pussy. You look up at him with an innocent, poison-soaked gaze–your lashes wet and your thighs trembling from each time you feel his cum leak out of you.

“It’d be such a waste–”, you mutter, shivering one more time when your fingers fuck you again, the room only filled with your voice and the wet squelching sounds from your pussy.

“–if it doesn't stay inside.” 

You barely have time to process what happens next. The next thing you knew, Caleb has your hands pinned above your head with one hand, and the other on your cheeks. His legs stop you from closing yours, and you feel his wet thickness hard once more, resting on your pubic bone.

“You know, pipsqueak”, his voice drops an octave lower. His voice is clear, and he makes sure you hear him. “It's okay to just ask for more.” His eyes reflect such a gorgeous shade of wild you've never seen before, and it looks fucking good on him.

No warnings–your cunt is just wet and sopping that Caleb stuffs you to fullness once more–you give up trying to keep your eyelids open, your mind only processing the way he’s fucking so deep into you again and again.

“You know I'll always give it to you.” 

The way his fingers are cupping your cheeks stops you from answering. Well, he doesn't need a verbal response, especially not when you’re clenching him so fucking tight when your orgasm hits you for the…how many times was it now?

You feel stings that slowly dull around your shoulders and chest. The bites Caleb’s given you are as red as the ruby on his apple necklace. 

The night is drowned with sounds and sensations of both you competing to send each other to the heavens. 

What day is it now? 

Caleb blinks his heavy eyelids open. He soaks in the atmosphere around him, and it doesn't take him long to realise that you're lying on his arm.

Thankfully, it's not numb. Your hair tickles his cheeks. 

He notices the light peeking through his curtains. It's probably daytime. 

Caleb presses his lips against the back of your head, while he pulls you closer. He almost jolts when he hears a soft moan coming from you.

For some reason, something feels funny. 

He attempts to shift slightly, and realises the predicament–his dick is still hard as fuck, and he’s still nestled so fucking deep in you. Fuck. Did the both of you fall asleep mid-sex? The feeling bleeds into him again. 

Are you even awake to realise this? 

Caleb bites his inner cheek, the hardness only builds. Shit. Even after all of that, you're still this warm and tight? 

He watches your breathing steadily. 

He hooks your leg over his arm almost too easily, giving himself easier access to fuck you deeper. Your sleepiness is slowly dissipating, overtaken so fucking quick by the burning desire once more.

His thrusts bear slight friction at first, but somehow that only adds to the pleasure–the rawness, the fact that he's left a mess in you and kept that way, and that he gets to do it all over again in the morning. 

“Ca…Caleb..!” You squeal, uselessly fisting the pillows while Caleb rails you from below. 

“So perfectly warm for me, y/n”, his morning voice dousing you. He takes advantage to litter more bites to the back of your neck and shoulders, and spoils you with his strained moans when he reflects the way you whimper whenever he hits your sensitive spots. 

You sheepishly bury your teary face into the pillows, and Caleb pushes himself impossibly deeper, forcing you to face him when you jolt in surprise. His violet eyes are eating you up. You hear his voice ring in your ears.

“Wanna make you cry more like this. You're so pretty when you cry when I'm splittin’ you open like this.” 

More tears stream down your cheeks whenever your g-spot gets abused over and over. Caleb forces you to meet his gaze. His thrusts are slower, but harder. 

“Shit, you're really gonna milk me dry, yeah?” Caleb hisses when he feels you flutter around him. Your cum is mixed with his, and drips down his cock, to his balls. 

Caleb pulls you tighter, deepening the kiss one last time while he breeds you full over and over for nth time since the last night, devouring your whimpers when the words you muttered to him last night comes into memory. You're so dizzy with pleasure, and Caleb has stolen all of your breaths. 

He finally pulls out, his cum endlessly drizzling out of your abused hole, and it almost sets him off again. 

Nonetheless, he forces himself to get out of bed so he can get a towel and clean you up.

Another loving kiss he presses onto your temple.

“I'm gonna get a towel, pipsqueak.” His husky whispers send shivers down your body, and the warmth of his touch lingers on your thighs for a lot longer than you realise.

He leaves the bed for the bathroom. 

You nuzzle into the pillows Caleb was just lying on, drowning yourself with his scent. The wetness that sticks between your legs–you can't tell if it's your fresh arousal or if it's his cum anymore.  

Not that it mattered since steadying your breath when you realised he was still in you when you stirred before him to see what he'd do next, gave you such a big reward. 

And you'd do it all over again. You would say things to get under his skin, just to get a rise out of him, just to keep his attention on you, always. 

You wanted to keep his strained voice when he called your name, the way he looks at you with so much desperation when he breeds you full, in a bottle and store it for your perverted indulgence. 

No one else needs to know that this part of Caleb exists, because he belongs to you. 

The dim light catches your attention underneath the thick sheets. You take the device, unlocking the phone with your fingerprint. 

6 missed calls. 

You swipe them away. You shut off his phone.

He doesn't need to know.

He doesn't need to remember.

At least, not when he's with you. 

[shyoko]

✧You and another member play fighting, and you end up on top of him ✦༺⊹

This writing is my own; no copies, adaptations, or translations are allowed. I hope you like it. 𓂃 

✦ 3.6K words * Masterlist˚ Taglist₊‧ ✦𓂃 

You can send me all the requests you want before Sunday. I’ll be writing them throughout June and July. After that day, requests will be closed!

enhypen x fem!reader ⚠️ CW: jealousy, angst, emotional tension, possessive behavior, rough intimacy, heated confrontations, wall pinning, intense kissing, dirty talk, slight humiliation, neck kissing, marking (hickeys), affirmations of ownership, insecure behavior, friends-to-lovers tension, make-up, and emotional aftercare.

✧ Heeseung ----------

“Please, Sunoo, lend it to me,” you demanded, sitting next to him and stretching your arm to reach the snack he had bought you—after you had told him over and over again how much you loved it.

You leaned over his body to retrieve it, and he, laughing, held you by the waist to keep you from falling while pulling the package even farther from you. Both of your laughter filled the room, creating a light and fun moment…

Until a dry cough abruptly broke the mood.

Heeseung stood at the door, arms crossed, brow furrowed, and with an expression of anger so intense that it seemed to erase all the joy in an instant. His murderous gaze locked onto the two of you—especially Sunoo.

“What the hell is going on here?” he snapped, his voice cold and razor-sharp.

Sunoo immediately dropped the package and pulled his hand from your waist like it had burned him. The sudden movement made you lose balance, falling onto him. Heeseung barely moved, but his eyes burned with jealousy.

“Are you comfortable, Sunoo?” he asked with a forced, venom-laced smile.

“It’s not what it looks like…” Sunoo tried to explain nervously, raising his hands.

“Oh, really? Because from here it looks like your hands are where they shouldn’t be,” Heeseung interrupted, taking another step toward you. “You think this is funny, or what?”

The tension thickened. Sunoo opened his mouth to say something, but Heeseung had already grabbed your arm—firm but not painful—and hoisted you over his shoulder with determination. His gaze never left Sunoo.

“Don’t ever touch her like that again. Not even as a joke.”

Sunoo nodded silently, swallowing hard, while you, dangling from Heeseung’s shoulder, kicked and protested.

Heeseung walked straight to the bedroom, slamming the door behind him. He dropped you face down on the mattress and quickly climbed on top of you, pressing his body against yours.

“You’re mine, damn it. How many times do I have to say it? I don’t like those little games of yours—and even less when they’re with him,” he spat, his lips brushing your ear.

His warm breath hit your skin, but his tone wasn’t sweet this time. He was angry, jealous, consumed by a mix of frustration and intensity.

“Whose are you?”

You squirmed under his body, your heart pounding. But before you could answer, his voice came again, firmer:

“I asked: whose the hell are you? Answer me!”

His lips came down to your neck and bit hard, without care. Then he licked the area, a silent apology for the roughness.

“Yours… I’m yours, Heeseung,” you gasped, breathless.

“That’s right, baby. Only mine,” he whispered, his expression calmer now, though his eyes still blazed.

He placed a soft kiss on your cheek, then wrapped you in his arms and lay down with you, holding you close—as if afraid someone else might ever touch you again.

✧ Jay ----------

The neon lights of the trampoline park danced in colorful flashes, mixing with the loud music and the laughter of the boys. They jumped, fell, screamed. As always, Jay stayed by your side, his hand tightly holding yours—as if claiming you silently.

But the chaos of the place ended up separating you for a few moments. Jake found you first, bursting with energy and flashing that mischievous grin.

“Wanna wrestle? I bet you won’t last a minute,” he said, winking.

“Oh yeah? Want to try me?” you replied through laughter, accepting the challenge without much thought.

It started with playful pushes, clumsy dodges, and stifled shrieks between giggles. Jake circled your waist playfully, catching you to keep you from falling, and you responded by flailing at the air, laughing. But with one bad jump, you lost your balance and fell straight onto him.

Jake laughed, his arms instinctively wrapping around you.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked, his voice warm while you stayed on his chest, still laughing uncontrollably.

But then you felt it. That silent pressure that stops time. You looked up—and there was Jay.

His jaw was tight, eyes locked on the scene, breath held in as if one more spark could make him explode. He walked toward you both with firm steps, his expression cold, too cold... too controlled.

“Get up,” he said to Jake, without needing to raise his voice.

Jake, now clearly uncomfortable, helped you stand. Jay approached you. He wasn’t rough, but the way his hand gripped your arm was final—like he was saying come with me without needing to speak.

“Did anything hurt?” he asked gently, scanning you quickly with his eyes, though the anger burning inside him was far from hidden.

“I’m fine, Jay… it was just an accident,” you began, but he didn’t let you finish.

He turned to Jake with a tight, forced smile.

“Didn’t know we were playing ‘roll around with someone else’s girlfriend’ now.”

Jake raised his hands, awkwardly.

“It wasn’t like that, I swear—we were just messing around…”

Jay just stared at him a moment longer. He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. His silence was worse.

Then he looked back at you, took your face in his hands, and leaned in with determination. He kissed you—deep, hard, without restraint. A kiss full of everything he wasn’t saying aloud. Jealousy. Rage. Need. Possession.

When he pulled away, his eyes still held that dark fire.

“Let’s go.”

He took your hand and you followed him, saying nothing more. You got in the car in silence. He played music low as he started the engine. His left hand on the wheel, his right still holding yours—tight.

“Jay… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to happen. We were just playing,” you murmured, staring at his fingers that wouldn’t let you go.

He didn’t answer right away. He just breathed deeply, lips pressed together, and finally pulled over on a quiet street, turning to face you.

“I don’t care if it was just a joke. I didn’t like it. I don’t like seeing you like that with anyone else. I don’t ever want to feel that again,” he said softly, but the intensity in his voice hurt more than if he had yelled.

“It won’t happen again, I promise,” you said, touching his cheek.

Jay closed his eyes for a moment, then leaned in and rested his forehead against yours.

“I love you. But I’m jealous, and I’m terrible at hiding it.”

You hugged him, and this time he kissed you softly, like the world made sense again—just because he was in your arms.

✧ Jake ----------

The music boomed through the speakers while colorful lights bounced off the walls. You were in front of the TV with Ni-Ki, playing Just Dance. Fast movements, nonstop laughter, and him determined to get in your way just to mess with you.

"Come on, focus! You’re losing because of me!" he yelled between laughs, standing right in front of you to block the screen.

"Ni-Ki, move!" you shouted through your giggles, giving him a light push as you tried to follow the beat of the song.

The game went on, but at one point, Ni-Ki moved awkwardly and stumbled. He accidentally pushed you, and in the blink of an eye, you both fell to the ground, rolling over each other. A small groan escaped his lips.

"Ouch… that hurt," he joked, laughing as you stayed on top of him, laughing so hard you couldn’t get up.

But then, the atmosphere shifted. You felt a gaze on you, sharp as a blade. You turned—and there was Jake.

Your boyfriend.

His brow furrowed, lips pressed tightly, and a mix of jealousy and discomfort written all over his face.

"What the hell is this?" he snapped, voice laced with tension.

You stood up immediately, your heart pounding like a drum.

"Jake, it’s not what it looks like…" you began, reaching out to touch him.

But he pulled his hand away—not violently, but coldly. His eyes, usually so warm, now refused to meet yours. He turned around, ready to leave.

"Jake, wait…"

Ni-Ki stood up and approached him, serious now, the jokes gone.

"It was my fault. I pushed her by accident, she fell on top of me. I’m really sorry," he said sincerely, knowing he had crossed a line—even if unintentionally.

Jake didn’t respond. He just nodded slightly, accepting the apology but not hiding his anger. Ni-Ki left quietly, leaving you two alone.

You walked up to Jake before he could leave again. You held his face in your hands and kissed him. Once, twice, three times. Short, sweet kisses—like little patches for every cracked piece of his heart.

He didn’t react right away. His brows were still furrowed, lips in that cute little pout. But his eyes were slowly softening.

"I’m still mad," he mumbled, not looking away from you.

You smiled faintly, saying nothing, and gently pushed him toward the couch. He sat without resistance, and you climbed onto his lap, straddling him and holding his face.

"Then let me pamper you until it goes away," you whispered against his lips, kissing him more slowly now, letting your hands roam across his neck, his hair, his back.

Jake sighed, arms gradually wrapping around you, giving in. His pout faded under your soft touches and slow kisses.

"You’re impossible…" he finally murmured against your neck, now with a defeated smile.

"And you’re too cute to be jealous over a game."

He chuckled softly and hugged you tighter.

"Only because you’re mine. And I’m yours. You know that, right?"

"I know. And I’m never letting you go."

✧ Sunghoon ----------

The ice shimmered beneath your skates as the boys’ laughter echoed around the rink. Everyone was skating, weaving around each other playfully, and you had gotten into a little game with Heeseung: every time you crossed paths, one of you gave the other a soft push. Nothing serious—just good fun.

"Your turn!" Heeseung shouted as he gave you a light shove while passing by.

You laughed and returned the favor on your next lap. Sunghoon noticed. He noticed everything—from how you smiled at Heeseung to those pushes disguised as a game. He didn’t say anything, just pressed his lips together and kept skating with the others, his brow slightly furrowed.

And then it happened.

Heeseung pushed you again, this time a bit harder, and you spun on your skates and gave him a stronger shove than intended. He wasn’t expecting it and stumbled, grabbing your arm on instinct so he wouldn’t fall alone. His body hit the ice—and you landed right on top of him.

One of his skates caught your leg, and a sharp pain shot through your calf.

"Ouch!" you cried, curling in on yourself without meaning to.

Heeseung sat up with effort, worried, his hands going to your injured leg.

"Did I hurt you? Let me see..." he muttered, frowning, while you were still on top of him.

But before he could touch you again, a voice cut through the moment like a knife.

"Don’t touch her."

Sunghoon arrived like a storm. His eyes sparked with restrained anger as he looked at Heeseung.

"Be more careful. Can’t you see you hurt her? And don’t touch her again."

His tone was serious, dry, leaving no room for argument. He took you gently, almost afraid of causing more pain, and helped you up. He didn’t look at you. Didn’t say anything else. Just wrapped his arm around you and led you off the ice, searching for an empty bench.

He knelt in front of you without a word, his brows furrowed, breath heavy. He opened his backpack and pulled out the small first-aid kit he always carried just in case. He lifted your leg onto his thigh with great care, though tension still lined every movement.

You watched him in silence, knowing he was angry—but also seeing how his fingers trembled slightly as he touched you. He couldn’t stand seeing you hurt, even if his pride was hurting too.

You raised a hand and gently ran your fingers through his dark hair.

"Hoon..."

He didn’t respond, just continued disinfecting the wound.

You leaned in until your face was close to his, and left a soft kiss on his forehead. Then one on his cheek. And one more—on his lips.

"I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have played around with Heeseung like that. I didn’t think it’d end like this… I love you, Sunghoon."

He paused. Slowly lowered his head without looking at you, resting it on your thighs as he knelt there. He stayed like that for a few moments, breathing against your skin, then lifted his face slightly and kissed your injured leg gently.

"Does it hurt a lot…?" he whispered, his voice finally coming out, a little broken.

You shook your head with a soft smile, still running your fingers through his hair as he remained there, holding you, not caring who saw.

"It only hurts when you’re mad at me."

Sunghoon looked up at you, and though a hint of frustration lingered in his eyes, his expression softened. He kissed your bandaged knee and rested his forehead on your leg again with a calm sigh.

"I can’t stay mad at you when you’re like this…"

✧ Sunoo ----------

The atmosphere in the living room was warm and relaxed. Dim lights, several blankets scattered over the couch, everyone chatting, laughing, lounging however they pleased. You were among them, leaning against the armrest of the sofa, with Sunoo beside you, his fingers absentmindedly caressing your hand under the blanket.

But the peace was interrupted when the first cushions started flying.

"Who did that?" you asked, looking around while everyone pretended to be innocent.

Jungwon shrugged, trying to stifle his laughter.

A few minutes passed… another cushion hit you. This time, straight on the head. You turned quickly, and once again, he acted like nothing happened.

"I saw you, Jungwon!" you laughed, grabbing one of the cushions to throw it back.

He stood up, running through the living room, and you chased him, laughing. You ran between the scattered blankets until you finally caught up with him. You gave him a light tap on the back as he dramatically pretended to fall… and just as you took one more step, you tripped over a blanket and fell… right on top of him.

You both laughed. Jungwon burst out laughing with you on top of him.

But amid the laughter, you didn’t notice Sunoo standing up from the sofa. His smile vanished without anyone noticing. He left the room in silence, without saying a word, disappearing from your view.

It wasn’t until the mood calmed down and you looked to your side that you noticed he was gone.

"Where’s Sunoo…?"

Worried, you stood up, left the room, and found him in the kitchen, his back to the door, hands braced on the counter, brows furrowed, lips tight. His entire posture radiated quiet anger.

"Sunoo…" you whispered, cautiously approaching.

You tried to hug him from behind, but he stepped away.

"No," he said sharply, without looking at you. "Go hug Jungwon, since you get along so well with him."

His voice was low, tense. It hurt you, because you knew it wasn’t just jealousy—it was insecurity masked as annoyance.

You didn’t say anything. You simply hugged him from behind, tightly, leaving no space for him to escape. You rested your cheek against his back.

"I love you, Sunoo… Only you. I’m sorry if I made you feel bad. It was nothing, we were just playing. But you’re the most important thing to me."

You felt him take a deep breath. His shoulders relaxed just a little… then he slowly turned around. His eyes were slightly glassy, his jaw tight, and his mouth… his mouth trembled with words he didn’t want to say.

He looked at you. His silence burned.

And without saying anything, he gently pinned you against the counter, placing his hands on either side of your body. His face came close, until his breath brushed your lips.

"Don’t do it again," he whispered before kissing you with soft rage, desperate to reclaim what he felt he’d lost, even if it had only been minutes.

He kissed your lips again and again, then moved down to your neck, leaving a trail of heat that made your skin shiver. He moved up to your cheeks, kissing them more tenderly this time, before wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close.

"You’re mine. Don’t make me feel like I could lose you."

"Never. I’m yours, Sunoo. Only yours."

✧ Jungwon ----------

"I already told you, I’m not jealous," Jungwon repeated for what felt like the hundredth time, reclining with apparent calm on the sofa, while the rest of the group raised an eyebrow and exchanged knowing smiles.

Jay, who was sitting on your other side, wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that he wanted to tease. You weren’t helping either, laughing with him as you played with tickles and silly comments that made Jungwon pretend to ignore the situation… until he couldn’t anymore.

A clumsy push, a laugh too loud… and suddenly you were on top of Jay, laughing, unaware of the fire you’d just lit.

"You okay?" Jay asked, amused, his hand on your arm.

Then silence. The kind that hurts in your chest. You turned—and saw him. Jungwon, standing, looking at you like he’d just seen something that hurt more than he could admit.

"You’re going to get off him. Now." His voice was cold. So controlled, it was scary.

"Wonie, wait, it’s not what—"

He didn’t let you finish. He grabbed your arm firmly—not violently, but with enough intensity to make you follow him. Without another word, he walked you to his room. He closed the door, leaned his back against it, and looked at you with eyes burning.

"Did you enjoy it?"

"Don’t be ridiculous…" you murmured, though your heart was racing.

"No, I want to hear it. Did you like him holding you? Touching you?"

You stepped closer to him.

"We were just playing. You were right there. You know it was nothing."

But he was already close to you, holding your waist. He gently pushed you against the wall, pressing his body to yours.

"I don’t care if it was a game. I don’t want it to happen again. Not with him. Not with anyone."

Slowly, his hands moved up your sides, and he unbuttoned the top buttons of your shirt with a calm but firm motion, his eyes never leaving yours. He leaned down, leaving a deep kiss on your neck… then another, warmer, lower.

"You’re mine. Mine," he whispered against your skin. "And you’re not covering this. I want everyone to see. To know who you belong to."

"I am… I always have been," you whispered, almost breathless.

"Then remember that. Because if I see that again… I can’t promise what I’ll do."

He hugged you tightly, burying his face in the crook of your neck, breathing deeply, trying to calm the storm inside him. You caressed him gently, resting your head on his chest.

"I’m sorry, Jungwon. I don’t want to hurt you. I love you."

"And I love you," he replied against your skin. "Too much."

✧ Ni-ki ----------

The living room was full of laughter and chatter, but for you, everything revolved around Sunghoon. He, who was usually cold and reserved, was different today: playful, close, smiling in a way that made your heart beat faster. Between jokes and soft pushes, you felt more alive than ever, savoring every brush of his hands, every glance shared.

But then, from a corner, Ni-ki was watching you with intense eyes and an expression you’d never seen on him before—pure, burning jealousy. The playful interaction between you and Sunghoon was hitting a nerve he didn’t want to acknowledge.

In the middle of your friendly wrestling, you lost your balance and fell on top of Sunghoon, who caught you without hesitation. Laughter escaped your lips as he held you, looking at you with a mix of tenderness and something deeper that surprised everyone.

Ni-ki couldn’t take it anymore. He walked over, voice laced with anger.

"What’s going on here? Do you really like my girlfriend that much?"

He shoved Sunghoon hard and turned to leave, but you followed him immediately.

"Ni-ki, wait… it’s not what you think."

He didn’t even look at you, jaw clenched, brows furrowed, already halfway to the door.

But you weren’t going to let distance grow between you. With determination, you grabbed his shirt as he crossed the threshold, pulling him back to you.

Your lips crashed into his in a fiery kiss, full of love and anger and desperation.

Ni-ki froze for a second, surprised, but melted into the kiss. His arms wrapped around you tightly, lifting you in an embrace that set your skin ablaze.

You felt every heartbeat against your chest, every sigh on his lips.

His hands slid down your back, pressing you against him as if to make sure you wouldn’t slip away.

His eyes opened slightly as he pulled away for a moment, resting his forehead on your skin.

"You’re mine, and no one else is going to touch you." he whispered, voice rough with love and jealousy.

You took his hand and laced your fingers with his, guiding him firmly toward the hallway.

In the dim light, where no one could see, he kissed you again—slow, deep, like it was the first and last time.

The world faded around you, leaving only the heat of his lips and the electricity sparking through your body.

When you finally pulled away, his eyes met yours, full of promises and fierce desire.

Without a word, you took his hand and walked with him into the bedroom, leaving behind the noise and jealousy to melt into that private, intimate silence.

✦N/a: If I were Ni-Ki, I wouldn’t have forgiven her 😔😔 (I think I got a little too affectionate with Y/N and Sunghoon LOL) I hope you liked it, love you so much 🩷

✦Taglist: @lezleeferguson-120 @nuki-riki @ijustwannareadstuff20 @vvenusoncasual @miellette @enhacolor @xxkatsusjinsux @somieverse @ourshin @han-to-my-minho @douqhnxtss @nuggets4lifers @mitmit01 @highway-143

[yungistiny]

exorcise the devil

[ J. Yunho ]

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summary: in which your boyfriend is crashing out without you while on tour

warning: dom yunho, possessive yunho, needy yunho, sub reader, unprotected sex, shower sex, overstimulation, established relationship

genre: smut

pairing: idol yunho x afab reader

word count: 2.7k

note: this was requested by @ecriggs1990

masterlist

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Wooyoung’s voice was exasperated.

“Y/N. Babe. Please.”

You balanced your phone on your shoulder while zipping up your overnight bag. “He’s that bad?”

“That bad?” Wooyoung scoffed. “The man nearly bit my head off because his mic pack wasn’t charged. Yunho doesn’t get mad. He just… stands there. And broods. Sexy for the fans. Hell for the rest of us.”

You bit your lip, already mentally on the plane. “He’s not… sleeping?”

“He’s not sleeping. He’s not eating. He jerks off like, four times a day, and he’s still walking around with a hard on.”

You laughed. “How would you know?”

“I share a wall with him. I’ve been listening to your name in three different tones for a week straight. Please come to Berlin. Fix your boyfriend before he humps the mic stand on stage or kills Jongho for teasing him.”

You rolled your eyes but your heart was pounding. “Text me the hotel and venue.”

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

That night that you arrived, the venue was packed.

The floor beneath you shook with the bass as ATEEZ hit the stage, lights strobing and fans screaming. You pressed closer to the barricade, blending in as one of the many.

But not to Yunho.

He spotted you instantly.

You weren’t even looking at him yet, too focused on cheering with the rest of the crowd, but the moment his gaze found you, everything about him shifted.

His jaw clenched. His dancing sharpened. His eyes darkened.

You swore you saw his hand flex mid choreo like he was imagining it against your throat instead of in the air.

Like muscle memory.

He was feral for the next hour. Drenched in sweat, intense, so focused it felt like he was only performing for you. Every thrust of his hips was just a little harder. Every growl into the mic, a little deeper.

And every time he passed your side of the stage, his eyes stayed locked.

By the time the show ended, your legs were shaking and you were the one dripping, from nothing more than a look.

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Backstage was chaos.

But it parted like the Red Sea when Yunho stepped through, still breathless from the final bow, hair sticking to his forehead, chest heaving, and eyes scanning until he found you.

And he dropped.

Dropped to his knees like you were oxygen, like prayer, like salvation.

You barely had time to set down your bag before his arms were around your waist, face buried in your stomach, groaning your name.

“God, baby… I can’t…. I need you. Right now.”

You ran your fingers through his sweat damp hair, pulling lightly to tilt his face up.

“Hi,” you whispered.

He just stared. Hungry. Starved.

“I almost flew home,” he rasped. “I was gonna say fuck the tour. I’ve been losing my mind without you.”

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The ride to the hotel was fast. Too fast.

Yunho couldn’t keep his hands to himself. He kissed you like a man possessed in the elevator, dragging you close, lips devouring yours until the ding of the door forced him to pause.

But the moment the hotel door shut behind you, he pounced.

He pressed you against the wall, tugging your shirt over your head with shaking hands.

“Take off your pants,” he growled. “Now.”

“Yunho…”

“I’ve waited three weeks,” he panted, pushing down his own sweats, dick already hard and leaking. “Three weeks of my fist. My imagination. My fucking dreams.”

You backed toward the bed, pulling your jeans down, eyes wide.

Yunho followed like a hunter, like you were prey. “You don’t understand,” he murmured, “what it’s like to crave someone so bad you can’t breathe without them.”

You didn’t answer.

You didn’t have to.

Because the second you laid back, he was on you, kneeling between your thighs, dragging your panties off and moaning at the sight of you.

“You’re already wet,” he groaned, running his tongue flat over your slit. “Fuck, I missed this taste. Missed you.”

You cried out as he licked you open, devouring like a man finally given water in a desert.

His fingers pushed in deep, curling right where you needed them, tongue flicking mercilessly against your clit.

“Come for me,” he whispered, voice thick with need. “Please, baby. I need to feel you fall apart.”

You didn’t last. Couldn’t.

You shattered, legs trembling, sobbing his name like worship.

And he didn’t stop.

Yunho pulled himself up, slick chin glistening, eyes wild with lust. “Turn over.”

You obeyed instantly, and his hands grabbed your hips hard, lining himself up before slowly pushing in.

Deep.

So deep you gasped, fists clenching in the sheets as he bottomed out.

“God…. fuck… this pussy was made for me,” he groaned, thrusting hard, deep, desperate. “No one else. No one else can have you. You’re mine.”

The room filled with wet sounds, breathy moans, and the slap of skin. He fucked you like he was trying to brand himself inside you, his pace punishing but precise.

He tugged you up, chest to his, one hand gripping your throat just enough to make you moan.

“You’re gonna take all of it,” he whispered into your ear. “Every inch, every drop.”

Your orgasm hit like lightning, so hard you cried out, body going limp in his arms.

But Yunho didn’t let you fall.

He followed you down, fucking you through it, growling your name as he finally came, spilling deep inside with a broken gasp.

You collapsed into the mattress, both of you panting, covered in sweat and bliss and everything you’d been needing for weeks.

Later, in the silence of the suite, tangled together under sheets, Yunho kissed your shoulder, voice raw and soft. “Don’t leave.”

You smiled against his chest. “Not until you’re done touring.”

His arms tightened around you.

“Then I’m never letting go.”

Your thighs were still trembling when you tried to shift, sensitive and slick, but the low sound behind you stopped you cold.

A groan. Dark. Deep.

You glanced back over your shoulder, and there he was.

Still inside you. Still thick.

And getting hard again.

“Yunho?” you whispered, blinking through the haze of your last orgasm.

He didn’t answer with words at first, just rolled his hips up gently, his dick twitching deep inside you, already fully erect once more.

Your mouth fell open. “You’re… already?”

He smirked. That maddening, cocky, drop your panties smirk you were pretty sure he learned from Mingi. The one he only used when he knew he was about to wreck you.

“Dancer’s libido, baby,” he rasped, sitting up and dragging you effortlessly with him.

Your legs wrapped around his waist on instinct, your hands bracing on his chest.

“I haven’t even had my fill of you yet,” he whispered, lips brushing your jaw as he kissed up to your ear. “You really think I’m gonna stop now?”

His hips rolled again, slow and teasing, and you whined, still so sensitive it almost felt too much.

Almost.

But god, your body didn’t want to stop.

Yunho leaned back against the headboard, grabbing your hips with those strong dancer hands. “Ride me.”

You blinked, your body aching in the best way, breath shallow. “Yunho..”

“Come on,” he murmured, dragging you forward just enough that you gasped, his dick pressing even deeper. “Let me see you. Let me watch you.”

Your body moved before your brain could catch up, hands braced on his chest, hips starting to move.

He groaned low in his throat, head falling back. “Fuck yes, just like that. Take it all, baby.”

You started slow, the stretch intense, rolling your hips while Yunho kept a tight grip on your waist, guiding you, watching every single twitch of your face like it was a performance just for him.

“Look at you,” he breathed, eyes dark and locked on yours. “You were made to ride me.”

You whimpered, thighs burning, clit brushing his pelvis with every grind. “Yunho, I..”

“Faster.”

He sat up suddenly, one arm wrapping around your lower back, the other gripping your ass to pull you down harder.

His mouth found your throat, sucking bruises, tongue hot against your skin.

“Don’t stop,” he murmured. “Don’t you dare stop. I need you like this. Need to feel you come again.”

Your body trembled with each thrust. The angle, the friction, the heat, it was overwhelming.

And Yunho was just watching you, fucking worshiping you with his eyes.

When you clenched down hard around him, sobbing his name again, he cursed loud and held you there, thrusting up into you as he chased his own high.

“Shit, baby, you’re gonna make me come, ride me through it, fuck, yes….yes”

You felt him spill inside again, the heat of it, the twitch of his dick, the way he held you so tight you could hardly breathe.

You collapsed forward onto his chest, both of you a sweaty, shaking, breathless mess.

He stroked your back as your heart pounded against his.

“That’s two,” he whispered against your temple, voice smug and sweet.

You laughed softly, still clinging to him. “You’re insatiable.”

He hummed. “For you? Always.”

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The bathroom was already fogged with steam by the time Yunho pulled you into it, one hand clasped around yours, the other resting low on your back.

Neither of you had said a word since the second round. You didn’t need to.

The look in his eyes said everything.

He turned the water hotter, then backed you into the marble tiled wall, steam curling between your bodies as it rained down in thick, heavy drops. His fingers brushed wet hair from your face, his other hand cradling your jaw.

“You okay?” he murmured, voice hoarse, low, reverent.

You nodded, breath shallow. “Yeah. Just… sore. Ruined. All the good things.”

He grinned, his lips brushing yours as he whispered, “One more?”

You smiled into the kiss, fingers curling around the back of his neck. “Greedy.”

“I told you,” he breathed, sliding his hand down your spine to palm your ass, pulling you flush against him. You could already feel him getting hard again, his dick thick and pressing into your belly, twitching between you.

“God,” you whispered, glancing down. “Are you ever not hard for me?”

He smirked, leaning in to kiss your throat, slow and lazy. “Not when I know what’s mine.”

Yunho didn’t rush this time.

He guided you back under the spray, letting the water trickle down both your bodies as his hands slid slowly over your hips, your waist, your breasts, relearning the terrain like he hadn’t already claimed it twice tonight.

His lips followed. Neck. Collarbone. Between your breasts. Down your stomach.

By the time he knelt between your legs, the tiles were slick, and so were you.

“You’re trembling again,” he murmured, mouth grazing your inner thigh. “Still sensitive?”

You nodded, clinging to the bar behind you. “Still needy.”

He groaned, kissing up the inside of your leg. “Good. That makes two of us.”

He didn’t go down on you again, this time, he simply stood, gripped your thighs, and lifted you like you weighed nothing.

Your back pressed to the shower wall, one of his hands supporting you, the other lining himself up at your entrance.

And then, with a single, slow thrust, he was inside.

You both gasped.

Water coursed down his back, your legs wrapped tightly around him as he filled you again, stretching you perfectly, the heat of his body just as overwhelming as the heat of the water.

This time, Yunho moved slow.

No desperation. No rough pace.

Just deep, rolling thrusts, his hips grinding into yours, his forehead resting against yours, your breath mixing in the thick steam.

You moaned quietly into his mouth, fingers sliding into his wet hair. “Yunho…”

“I’ve never missed anyone like this,” he whispered. “I was scared I was making you up. Like you were a dream.”

You kissed him, soft, slow. “I’m here. Real.”

His thrusts hit deeper at that, more focused, deliberate.

Each time he pushed in, it felt like he was trying to memorize every second. Every pulse. Every sound you made.

“I love you,” he breathed, lips brushing your temple.

Your eyes fluttered shut, heart thudding.

“I love you too.”

That was all it took.

He fucked you through that confession like it was sacred, until you were both trembling, water pounding around you, your body spasming in his arms as he finally came, deep and slow, with a guttural moan of your name.

He held you there for minutes afterward, your face buried in his neck, his arms tight around you, your bodies still joined beneath the falling water.

Neither of you moved.

Eventually, he carried you out, wrapped you in a towel, and whispered promises into your skin as he dried you off and tucked you into bed.

You fell asleep on his chest, still aching, still dripping, still loved.

And Yunho?

He finally slept like a man who had everything he ever needed.

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Morning came soft and golden.

Sunlight spilled through the thin hotel curtains, casting honeyed light across the bed and the two tangled bodies within it. The sheets were barely covering you, twisted down to your waist, Yunho’s arm slung across your stomach, one of your legs tangled between his.

His nose was pressed to your shoulder. His breathing was slow, even. Peaceful.

He hadn’t let you go all night.

You stirred just a little, sore in all the best ways, and his grip tightened automatically, pulling you closer with a low, sleepy grunt.

“Still here,” you murmured, smiling as you ran your fingers through his messy hair.

“Mmm. Good.” His voice was scratchy, deep from sleep. “Was worried I’d wake up and it would’ve been another wet dream.”

You laughed, turning your head to kiss his temple. “Nope. Just your actual, very real girlfriend. Sore. Feral. Starving.”

“Same,” he groaned into your neck. “For food and for you.”

You were just about to roll over, maybe even climb on top of him again, when there was a knock at the door.

Yunho froze.

You both stared at each other.

“Room service?” you offered hopefully.

Another knock. And then, a voice, cheerful, sing song, and very familiar.

“Yunhoooooo! Is your soul cleansed? Is your aggression gone? Is your dick dry?”

Yunho groaned into your chest like he wanted to die. “I’m gonna kill him.”

You laughed, clutching the blanket to your chest. “You should’ve known he wouldn’t let you have a quiet morning.”

Reluctantly, Yunho sat up, dragging on the hotel robe and raking a hand through his wild bedhead. He glanced back at you, admiring the sight of you wrapped in white sheets, bare shoulders and collarbones glowing in the morning sun.

“Stay right there. Don’t even breathe in his direction.”

You smirked. “I make no promises.”

Yunho yanked open the door.

Wooyoung didn’t even wait for an invitation. He sauntered in, sunglasses on, coffee in hand, and an absolutely shit eating grin on his face.

He took one look at Yunho’s disheveled state, robe barely tied, bruises blooming along his collarbone, that specific post orgasm glaze still clinging to him, and then glanced past him to you.

Wrapped in sheets. Bite marks on your throat. Lips swollen. Hair a mess.

Wooyoung grinned wider.

“Well, well, well,” he drawled, taking a sip of coffee. “Look who finally got laid and decided to not be a raging dick to the rest of us.”

Yunho deadpanned. “Get out.”

Wooyoung ignored him completely, walking over to the edge of the bed and offering you a two-fingered salute. “Thank you for your service. On behalf of the band, the staff, and our collective sanity.”

You covered your mouth, giggling. “I aim to please.”

Yunho groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “I swear to god…”

Wooyoung plopped onto the armchair. “He’s been intolerable, you know. Growling. Snapping. Jerking off like he was getting paid. Mingi walked in on him humping his pillow.”

“Get out!”

Wooyoung stood with a flourish. “Fine, fine. I got what I needed. Visual confirmation that the devil has been exorcised via orgasm.”

He turned to you with a wink. “Please ruin him again before Paris.”

Yunho physically shoved him toward the door.

“I hate you.”

“You love me.”

The door slammed shut behind him, finally leaving you two in silence again.

Yunho turned back around slowly.

You were biting your lip, trying not to laugh.

“You humped your pillow?”

“Do you want me to gag you with a pillow right now?”

You beamed. “Kinda.”

Yunho smirked and untied his robe.

“Round four it is.”

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permanent tag list: @straycat420 @autieofthevalley @dejatiny @hannahlilibet411 @xh01bri @jintastic-yuyu @maddycline @ultrapinkvoidbouquet @wooyoungsbrat @lucid-galaxys-world @ecriggs1990 @straytiny127 @sannies-tiddies @hannahstacos @jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: nsfw, dubcon, yandere, omegaverse, forced/accidental bonding, subjugation

♡ part one

♡ fem reader

Once you wake up in the morning, you feel… changed.

Your body feels full—as though you’d indulged too much last night—heavy and sticky and sore all over. There’s a strange taste in your mouth—sweet, somewhat salty, and metallic. Geez, you’re head’s pounding—how much did you drink last night? No, this feels different from a hangover—more full-bodied than that—a withdrawal of some kind or another. You must have done more at the party than drink, and yet, you can’t remember having stayed there all that long. No, you left with someone. That’s right. You went with… that overgrown Omega.

Oh no.

“Good morning, sleepyhead!”

He comes in only wearing a pair of snug boxers—body stacked with brawn, not a single hint of Omega-like softness aside from his tousled bed hair. There’s a big toothy smile on his face—eyes are creased in cheer while carrying an overfull breakfast tray. You know you’re hungry, and yet you can’t bring yourself to feel anything but sick to your stomach by the horrid sight of his flaunted neck, decorated by a gory ring of your bitemark.

No. No, no, no, no, no! Fuck! “Tell me that’s not what I think it is…”

He laughs lightly with an awkward smile, apologetically scratching the back of his neck while balancing the tray in the other hand. “I’m afraid so…”

The world stops spinning, and for a moment, you think it might actually never start up again. Your throat snares, and you think you might throw up. How the fuck could this happen?

He sets the tray down next to you, then himself. The whole bed takes waves upon his weight. You remain still—eyes unrest and mouth hung.

“Hey, I know this might not be what we had planned, but…” he starts.

But you don’t let him finish before declaring, “I’ll take full responsibility.”

There’s nothing else to do, you think. The red string of fate has tied the two of you together. It’s sealed.

“There is no going back now.”

His face expresses shock, but if you’d taken a closer look, he’d probably not be able to hide it—the overwhelming sensation of victory. Oh, bless your Alpha pride. He knew you would say that.

He smiles softly. “I’m in your care then.”

It’s a work in progress after that—slow in the beginning, but that’s to be expected. You never pegged yourself to be the type who got caught up in the unmendable mistakes of a one-night stand, but then here you were—mated with a stranger, moving into his apartment because it’s bigger and closer to work, sharing the same bed and eating the same meals and helping each other through one another’s ruts and heats.

He's still no closer to being your type. In fact, he’s the total opposite—too giant to give you even a semblance worth of superiority over him. A couple of days ago, when he’d been searching for the remote in the couch you were lying on, he’d taken to pick you up instead of just asking you to move. It was completely humiliating. He’s so brazen, and it’s starting to become clear he’s doing it all on purpose!

He doesn’t get fussy when you state your claim of being the one on top—no, but what he does instead is somehow worse, going along with it with snide praise, grinning up at you, his big hands weighing heavy on your haunches as you roll them, calling you his good girl. It seems to humor him how it angers you—chuckling behind your hands as you layer them both atop his mouth, growling at him to “Shut up!”

No, he doesn’t mind letting you take charge. He rather enjoys the view of watching you ride—working so hard to appease him while he rests pretty and admires your body—all soft edges and plush curves. You tire quickly, though—poor thing, why don’t you leave the rest to him?

You had rejected it the first few times he’d offered. Your bruised pride simply wouldn’t have it—you’d rather you both stop than let him finish you off. But a couple more nights and you’d quicker come around than either of you expected—perhaps worn down by his constant nagging or simply fed up with your own failure—you let him assist by bouncing you on his lap.

You wouldn’t admit it to his face, never, but you’d enjoyed it far more than you could have ever thought…

Thankfully, your face in and of its own glory told him all he needed to know. It didn’t take long before he’d taken full advantage of it, nor for you to begin allowing it without being asked. Soon you were letting him fuck you against the wall, making the entire room shake—wall creaking and shelves rattling, pictures falling down. You hold your tongue and hold on tightly, arms and legs wrapped around him—moaning sweetly right by his ear. Fuck, you even bite him again.

As time passed, you came around to indulging more and more of his antics. Letting him fuck you from behind—hard and heavy and deep—thrusting into you while grappling your waist. You even go down on all fours when he does it—digging your claws into the sheets.

Lying belly-up beneath him still makes you feel nervous—and slightly ashamed—almost convinced something’s wrong with you for liking it. And yet you can’t help it. You know any other Omega wouldn’t fuck you like this. They wouldn’t have the stamina, the drive, or the desire. Not like him, who does it all like it’s his nature even when it shouldn’t be.

Guess you’re both freaks.

♡ BNHA – Deku, Kirishima, Hawks, Amajiki ♡ JJK – Gojo, Geto ♡ HQ – Kuro, Oikawa, Miya twins, Tendou ♡ BLLK – Reo, Nagi, Bachira, Isagi ♡ DS – Doma ♡ WB – Suo, Togame

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[plethorawrites]

ahh your recent clark kent drabble has me so dizzy ,, him begging you not to make noise and he’d probably force his fingers into your mouth, down your throat, your little gags probably wouldn’t be much better, but better for him than hearing your moans 😩

MY PHONE FLEWWW FROM MY HAND WHEN I SAW THIS!!! But I absolutely see the vision! (This was longer and more explicit than planned. Oops? If anyone asks, I didn't write this and if you know me irl... please alert me so I can off myself)

Clark Kent, who adores having that little loft space in the barn because it's the perfect quiet spot for you and him to spend time together when his parents are home or you just don't want to risk getting caught. His couch is pretty comfortable too, so when he lays you down on it, it's more than enough space for you, even if he's barely able to fit on top of you.

It's usually peaceful, the two of you with just just enough privacy to make some noise without getting caught and just enough lack of it to add to the thrill of being in front of an open barn window while you're vertical. Despite not really fitting on it, he wouldn't dare complain when he had you laying under him, your legs intertwined with his, head tilted back against the arm rest as you held onto his neck.

If freezing time was one of his powers, he'd use it right then and there to memorize everything about this moment—your open lips, which were puffy from him biting on them and the bruises darkening on your neck as the seconds passed. The messy strands of your hair sticking to your face, which was flushed and glowing in the dim lighting. It's like his own persona heaven.

Or, it was, until he heard the barn door slide open.

He'd tried to stop, when he heard it, honestly, he did. Clark could see your eyes snap open, panic replacing your bliss, and wanted desperately to make you go back to babbling his name again. But considering his dad was below them, searching for something, that seemed like a bad idea.

After a few moments of complete stillness, he couldn't handle it anymore, and regardless of the risk, held your hips as he slowly went back to what he was doing, thrusting in and out of you. His teeth sink into his bottom lip, eyes trained on you as you try, very weakly to quietly argue with him about pausing and getting dressed, but before your argument even fully leaves your lips it's cut off with a whimper.

He shushes you, his eyes getting serious the way they sometimes did when something was important to him. One of his hands left your hips to readjust the blanket that was loosely draped over both of your waists and thighs, bringing you a tad of comfort before another, much louder moan, left your lips.

His hand immediately went to your mouth, his teeth clenching as he panted heavily, pressing his face to your neck, sucking another hickey on it, before pulling away to look at you. Your eyes met his for a moment before they rolled back and your spine arched a bit.

"You're getting there, aren't you?" You whispered in your ear, feeling you fall apart for him. "Go ahead," he encouraged. "Just stay quiet." His hand dug further into your hip and another of your whines was absorbed by his hand. "Shhh, quiet," he said again. "You gotta be careful."

You were trying. Honestly.

You could hear his dad throwing boxes around, looking for something and struggling to find it. He pulled your leg up, wrapping it around his waist and the movement, the way you could feel him so much better made another, much louder moan leave your lips.

Clark winced, pressing his face to your neck to muffle himself as his hand pushed harder against your lips. Your hand gripped his wrist tightly and he cursed under his breath. "I know, I know you don't like having your mouth covered, I'm sorry," he apologized, kissing your cheek. "It's just for a little bit."

You shook your head weakly, protesting and he gritted his teeth, his head swimming as he tried to balance too many thoughts at once. His hand left your mouth, two of his fingers pushing past your lips. "Is this better?" He asked, panting against your neck as his fingers pressed down on your tongue, sliding into the back of your throat, making you gag.

The sound made him moan, and he buried his face against your hair, inhaling the scent of your shampoo for a moment. Your hand dragged down his back, and his head fell, pressing his forehead to your shoulder for a moment.

"That's it," he praised, his fingers sliding in and out of your mouth, exploring it. "So much quieter like this." Some box went thud against the floor below but all he cared about was the feeling of your tongue under the pads of his fingertips as they pushed towards the back of your throat, eliciting little gags from you. He lifted his head, kissing your forehead, your temple, your cheek, your jaw, your neck.

Clark's teeth sink into your shoulder as he reaches his climax, trying to keep himself as quiet as possible by biting down on your flesh, the sharp canine teeth causing you to yelp. His fingers forced their way so far back in your throat you felt like you were choking, but it successfully stole the sound of pain from your mouth.

His teeth left your skin after a moment and he soothed the area with his tongue, before pressing a kiss to your shoulder. "You're doing so well for me," he promised you, his fingers messaging your tongue as he felt your body go rigid under him. "Just like that, sweetheart. Keep gagging for me."

The next sound to leave your mouth was the loudest, but once again, his fingers swallowed the noise before it even left your mouth. They scraped the back of your throat, tears pricked in your eyes as you gagged, your entire body tensing up before going completely slack.

His fingers gently slid back out of your mouth and laid his head on your shoulder as his entire weight slowly crushed you. He buried his face in your neck, his hands finding your hair and threading through the locks.

"You're perfect," he mumbles, gently massaging your scalp, pushing your hair around, tangling it. "So damn perfect," he repeated again, out of breath and exhausted as he placed another kiss to your neck.

[mariasont]

CINNAMON BREAD

aaron hotchner meets his new, younger neighbor

pairings: aaron hotchner x intern!reader warnings: fem!reader, neighbors to lovers (eventually), meet cute!, age gap, reader is not an intern (yet!!!! i have a plan maybe kinda), slow-burn romance set up (my go-to), reader loves to info dump wc: 1.2k

Hotch rarely spares a thought for the empty house next door. It’s more scenery than structure, slowly deteriorating with neglect, gutters strangled with fallen leaves and ivy clawing up weathered brick. He keeps the lawn presentable enough to ward off complaints from the neighborhood association, but beyond that, it might as well be a ghost, out of sight, out of mind, pushed aside in favor of more immediate demands.

The house’s former occupant, a mild-mannered elderly woman, had been perfectly agreeable company, never intrusive, always amiable enough to warrant polite nods or the occasional commiseration over Jim’s habitual disregard for modesty behind open blinds across the street. Their relationship, if one could call it that, remained comfortably superficial, never straying into genuine familiarity. And that arrangement suited Hotch entirely, aligning neatly with his preference for clear, intentional boundaries around his personal life.

At the mailbox, Hotch absently flips through the day’s standard collection of bills, takeout menus and coupon sheets that never make it past his front door. His routine is punctuated by the sharp report of a closing car door, redirecting his gaze to the adjacent driveway, now conspicuously filled by a moving truck.

Someone steps out, silhouetted by the syrupy, waning daylight. Hotch’s gaze stays fixed for longer than socially acceptable, he knows better, really, but something holds him in place, knuckles gradually paling around the paper as courtesy battles, and loses, to curiosity.

It’s a girl — no Hotch corrects himself quickly, clearly a young woman — overburdened by two enormous tote bags slung haphazardly over your shoulders and a precarious cardboard box balanced in your arms. You’re muttering hurriedly into a phone tucked awkwardly between your ear and your shoulder, finger fumbling unsuccessfully at the unfamiliar lock.

Your cardigan slips thoughtlessly aside, revealing a smooth sweep of skin at your spine. His eyes dip lower before decency yanks it forcibly upward again, self-reproach prickling beneath his collar.

Young. Far too young, he reminds himself with sober conviction. Possibly still in college. Off-limits in every interpretation of the word.

The door swings inward with sudden force, pitching you forward into a graceless stumble punctuated by a small, startled squeak. His muscles coil, one foot already primed forward in an unnecessary rescue. You regain your balance quickly, arms righting the load without assistance.

Just as he’s about to discreetly look away, your head turns, perhaps intuitively sensing his scrutiny. Perhaps by sheer coincidence, though Hotch doubts it. 

Either way, when your eyes find his, he stills.

You’re unexpectedly — no, almost unreasonably —- beautiful. But even that qualifier feels off, because unexpectedly implies he envisioned this scenario and simply miscalculated. It implies he came to this moment with assumptions. He didn’t. He didn’t even realize he was getting a new neighbor. What he’s feeling now isn’t the failure of prediction. It’s the failure of preparation. And Aaron Hotchner, of all people, does not appreciate feeling unprepared.

Your eyes are a mosaic of shades, elusive and difficult to pinpoint with just one look. He catches himself wanting to pause everything, just to study them long enough to trace every hue until he could paint them from memory. Completely absurd, he thinks, even as golden light brushes in them, revealing more flecks of color, reflections that seem to catch with every movement. That same light skims across your skin now, illuminating every slope and hollow of face that’s uniquely, almost achingly lovely.

“Oh! Hi!” Your face instantly radiates warmth, all traces of momentary confusion rapidly dissolving into sincere, unabashed friendliness. In your hurry to greet him, you quickly set down your belongings, completely oblivious to the thick books tumbling from the box and sprawling across the porch. You rush toward him with enthusiastic, apologetic steps. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t even notice you standing there! I was a little distracted by — well, all that,” you gesture behind you with a laugh. “But anyway, hi!”

“Hi,” Hotch replies slowly, inclining his head toward the house. “I suppose you’re moving in next door?”

“Yes!” you say, immediately extending your hand as you offer your name. “My grandma actually left it to me. Honestly, I’m still processing how much space there is, I mean, it’s just me. But isn’t it beautiful? It’s a Craftsman bungalow, built around 1915. They were actually part of the Arts and Crafts movement, celebrating handmade work instead of mass production. See how they used wood and stone to blend in? And the open floor plans were supposed to encourage family interaction, which…” You pause, glancing at the porch, smiling sheepishly. “Well, saying that aloud does make the size a bit ironically excessive for one person, doesn’t it?”

His brows raise as he takes your hand, the sheer velocity of your speech catching him off guard. He doesn’t interrupt, just listens, half-curious if you’ll come up for air. He’s not sure you notice how fast you’re going.

The gentleness of your hand startles him. Warm and smooth, untouched by the rugged imperfections he has come to view as unavoidable companions of experience. No scar tissue, no marks, no wounds.

His hand, by comparison, is rough-hewn, textured from relentless repetition, the practiced grip of a Glock 17, calluses hardened on a firing range. There’s a white scar slicing across the space between thumb and forefinger, evidence of a blade and a bad angle, just one of many, others tucked beneath shirtsleeves or hidden by the waistband of his trousers. 

He’s never minded it until now, never even considered it worth nothing, but now, with your hand is his, he’s aware of just how easily his grip could bruise and mar your unblemished perfection.

“Aaron Hotchner.”

“Oh! You’re that Mr. Hotchner! My grandma always mentioned you, she said you were her very serious, very polite neighbor with suits straight out of a fashion magazine.” You pause. “I hope that wasn’t weird to say out loud.”

“No, not weird at all.” He huffs a small laugh. “Though, I’m not sure I’ve ever thought of my suits as fashion magazine material. Your grandma was being very generous.”

That response prompts an instant smile, one that seems to flood your face with such beauty he can hardly bear to look directly at it. He really needs to go inside.

“She was generous, but also pretty accurate,” you say, redirecting your attention toward the tidy row of houses along the street. “I hope everyone else around here is as nice as she made you sound. Any neighborhood secrets I should know?”

“I can’t say there are many secrets,” he admits, “but I’d suggest being careful if you value privacy, news travels fast here, especially if you accidentally leave your recycling bin out a day too long.”

“Oh no, that’s exactly the kind of secret I needed to know,” you laugh, placing a hand over your heart. “My recycling bin and I have a very complicated relationship. I’ll try not to scandalize everyone my first week.” You glance quickly at the boxes behind you. “I won’t keep you any longer, though. It was lovely meeting you, Mr. Hotchner. Hopefully I’ll see you around, preferably not on recycling day.”

Hotch watches as you step away, already immersing yourself in the scattered array of boxes awaiting your attention. 

The stretch between your front door and his is hardly more than ten paces, yet the distance suddenly feels different — lengthened somehow, or perhaps strangely diminished. He isn’t quite sure which it is. 

Closing the door behind him, he releases a breath. For the first time in recent memory, the quiet solitude of his home feels insufficient, as though he’s listening without fully meaning to, for the sound of another presence just beyond his walls.

[zynhttyd]

Pl Please and thank you, if not please ignore this. A request for Hiccup x reader, it can be placed in the first movie when there is the training against dragons, specifically the scene of Astrid scolding Hiccup with that dialogue "....our parents' fight will become ours" and reader defends him, reader (she does not understand dragons but she respects them and is interested in them but only she knows that), and defends Hiccup verbally to Astrid, just a small discussion, from then on Hiccup is interested in reader because she defended him and because reader is not afraid of dragons in the training, which is strange because she never attacks him directly but it is like driving away a beast and generates interest in him.

THE GUARDIAN ANGEL

pairings « hiccup haddock x f! reader »

✎ When you quietly hold your ground during dragon training—never striking first, only observing—Hiccup takes notice. You're the only one who treats dragons with a strange, distance, and when you defend him during a heated clash with Astrid, he starts to wonder if he’s not as alone in his thinking as he thought.

【warnings; none】

Ash clung to the air, dense as flour, stirred by each step across the rugged ground. A fine coat of soot blanketed the arena like dust on forgotten parchment, and the scent—smoke, scorched rope, and something faintly sulfuric—settled stubbornly in your clothes. The roof above, a precarious structure of chains and stone designed with a singular purpose: to imprison dragons, and prevent their flight, groaned and clanged against one another as the deep wind swept through the cavernous space.

Gobber’s voice bellowed through the dusted air: “Today, we teach you how to not die! Keep your limbs, keep your pride, and maybe—maybe—you’ll live to see dinner!” 

You tightened your grasp on the leather strap of your borrowed shield with rigid edges. It smelled like someone else's sweat and fire—ripe, acrid, and unmistakably used. Have you not any shame, oh, how you wished you could pinch your nose without looking like a complete amateur. After Gobber’s ‘I believe in learning the job’ you’d completely lost hope in finishing the academy training with the Deadly Nadder tailing your butts to destroy you with its spontaneous bursts of poisonous spines wherever it could fly. At least he had the time to explain that shields matter more than a sword.

“hey–Hey, you know I just happened to notice the book had nothing to do with night furies.” You hear a cranky voice just a wall behind you, assuming it was Hiccup, likely addressing Gobber. A Before you could react, a sudden burst of fire struck the wall—a Nadder’s blast—searing through the wooden wall and lighting up the space. The impact revealed your silhouette, exposed and clearly visible through the scorched gap.

“Today, it’s all about attack! Now get ye’ lots and butts movin’.” 

You took off running, swatting at the small flames that clung to your clothes. Heat nipped at your sleeves as you pushed forward, doing everything you could to stay ahead of the Nadder. Sharp talons scraped against the wood behind you, and you heard the distinct whir of spines being fired. You ducked instinctively, heart pounding.

“Nadders are quick and light on their feet.” Gobber peeked from above.  “Your job is to be quicker and lighter”

Easier said than done.

Turning a corner too fast, —only to slam into Fishlegs with full force. The impact sent both of you staggering, arms pinwheeling for balance, but managed to regain balance just in time. You managed to stay in your feet, just as a cluster of razor-sharp Nadder spikes thudded into your shield with a metallic crack. Others peppered the ground where you had stood seconds ago.

You would’ve been at peace if Gobber hadn’t insisted on training you, calling you a “wee lamb” that needed to transform into a “goat.” You’d been sleeping soundly, deep in the comfort of your blankets, your body relaxed and still. The world outside had faded away, the early morning stillness wrapping around you like a warm, quiet cocoon. Then, next thing you know your legs were up and high, snatched by his prosthetic hook.

“I’m really beginning to start questioning your teaching methods.” “So do I!”

You sprinted ahead, putting more distance between yourself and Fishlegs, hoping to draw the Nadder's attention elsewhere. The dragon’s growls echoed in your ears, but you kept your focus on the creature's movements, looking for any sign of weakness, any gap in its defense. You had to figure out its blind spot.

Ahead, you spotted Astrid and Snotlout, their bodies low to the ground sneaking away from the spined dragon. They were working their way around the Nadder, trying to avoid being noticed. Just as you were about to make your move, Hiccup arrived, his figure appearing in the distance.

Astrid glanced over at him, quickly waving for him to crouch. “Get down,” she murmured, the command almost sounding like a scold. Hiccup, however, was still going on about the Night Fury, oblivious to the urgency around him. Astrid peeked her head over the edge, her eyes scanning the Nadder’s movements, watching for any sign that it had walked away from their direction. Once the coast was clear, Astrid moved quickly, rolling her body to the other wall alongside Snotlout and you. 

Behind you, Hiccup tried to follow suit, but he wasn’t as quick. As he rolled, the weight of his shield caught the ground, sending a sharp scrape through the air that made everyone flinch. His eyes widened in mild panic as he scrambled to regain his balance.

The sound didn’t go unnoticed. The Nadder, its eyes scanning the area, whipped its head toward the noise, its focus shifting immediately from you to the others. In an instant, it let out a ferocious screech and surged upward.

“Don’t worry, babe, I got this.” Snotlout’s voice was as confident as ever, though you couldn’t quite tell if he was talking to you or Astrid––not that it made a difference. His grin was wide, almost too wide, as he swung his mace, aiming for the Nadder with all the flair of a showman.

But the moment the mace left his hand, it veered off course, flying wide and completely missing the dragon. It sailed past the dragon’s side. Way past. The Nadder didn’t even flinch as it soared past, instead charging straight toward them, its eyes locked on the three of you.

You turned to him, unimpressed, giving him a long, deadpan stare. “Really?”

He blinked, then raised a hand as if that explained everything. “The sun was in my eyes, [Name].” Before you could even reply, the Nadder reared back and spewed a burst of fire. “What do you want me to do? Block out the sun? I could do that, but I don’t have time right now.”

Hiccup stood in place, still distracted, flipping through the pages of the dragon manual and pointing out something to Gobber. “They probably took the daytime off, right? Like a cat—’”

“Hiccup!” you barked, but he didn’t take notice. The Nadder roared and charged again, this time lunging straight for Astrid.

“Hiccup!” Gobber called out

“Hiccup!” Astrid shouted too, her voice laced with both panic and fury. She sprinted across the shaky remains of the training structure, the Nadder crashing after her, claws tearing into the wood as it climbed with terrifying speed. You watched from below, tense, trying to find an opening to help—but everything was collapsing too fast.

“Look out!” you yelled.

She lost balance and fell—straight onto Hiccup, knocking them both to the ground with a heavy thud. The air left his lungs in a wheeze, but the worst of it wasn’t the impact—it was the sharp clang that followed. Astrid’s axe, still tightly gripped in her hand during the fall, drove straight into the rim of Hiccup’s shield. The metal bit into the wooden frame and lodged itself deep, the two now stuck together awkwardly.

“Ooh, love on the battlefield,” Tuffnut snickered, elbowing his sister as he peeked over the edge of a half-crushed platform.

“She could do better.” 

You wanted to help, but the Nadder was almost free from the stacked pile of wood, its claws scraping against the debris as it struggled to get out. Every second counted.

"Let—let me... why don’t you—?" Hiccup stammered, trying to talk to Astrid, taking off her hand from squishing his face. He was still holding onto his shield, clearly trying to make sense of the chaos, but Astrid wasn't having it. She leaped forward, eyes locked on the Nadder, now fully freed from the pile of wreckage. Panic surged through her, and she pushed her foot onto Hiccup’s face with an unceremonious shove, yanking the axe from his shield with a sharp jerk.

Before Hiccup could react, Astrid was already swinging the axe, driving it into the Nadder’s advancing form. The force of the blow knocked the dragon back, sending it reeling. The sheer power in her movement was enough to force the Nadder to hesitate, if only for a moment, as it tried to regain its footing.

Ignoring your weapon, you threw it aside, the clatter barely registering as you focused entirely on the dragon. You rushed forward at the same time, your own fists raised, staying close to Astrid as the Nadder snarled, its fiery eyes narrowing. The tension in the air was palpable, the ground would be shaking with each step the dragon took if it didn’t have light feet.

You stepped forward, standing firm in the Nadder's path, trying to get its attention. No weapons. Just your instincts. You weren't going to fight this dragon with blades; you had to be smarter. 

"Hey, hey!" you called, voice steady despite the adrenaline flooding your system. The Nadder’s head swung toward you, its eyes narrowing.

The dragon was close now, its massive, scaly head turning toward you, its nostrils flaring as it caught your scent. You raised your arms, palms open, trying to appear larger, more intimidating. You shouted, not out of fear, but to be heard above the mess.

“Get away from them!”

The Nadder snarled in response, its tail flicking to the side as if it might strike you. But you didn’t flinch. You couldn’t afford to. In a matter of speaking, you weren’t exactly the type to fight dragons. They intrigued you—fascinated you in a way that made it hard to see them as mere enemies. You weren’t one to simply engage in a battle with something you didn’t understand, especially when their behavior wasn’t entirely rooted in malice.

You knew this was a high-risk situation, but you weren’t about to make things worse by provoking it further. Your eyes stayed locked on the Nadder as you slowly approached, hands up, keeping your posture calm and open. The dragon’s fiery gaze met yours, and for a split second, it seemed to hesitate, assessing you, its growls softening.

This wasn’t a fight—it was a standoff. And you weren’t going to fight if you didn’t have to.

Hiccup was still laying down to the ground, his eyes narrowed in concentration as he watched the scene unfold. The Nadder was on the offensive, its spines raised, ready to strike. The rest of the group was scrambling, trying to keep the dragon at bay with their weapons, but you... you weren’t doing what everyone else was.

A few tense moments passed. Then, with an almost reluctant grunt, the Nadder turned, its body coiling as it began to retreat, its fiery breath dissipating into the air.

You stood still, watching it leave. Only when it had fully backed off did you allow yourself to exhale, the adrenaline of the encounter still buzzing in your chest.

"You didn’t even use your weapon," Astrid said, her voice sounding a bit more incredulous than usual as she caught up with you. Her eyes were still wide, likely processing what had just happened.

Gobber, who had been watching the whole exchange from the sidelines, let out a low whistle of approval. "Well done, Astrid and [Name]." His gravelly voice was full of respect, and that made you feel a little less on edge.

Just as you were about to pat Astrid on her shoulder, however, her focus changed—badly—to Hiccup. Her eyes burned with frustration, the fire in them hard to ignore. “Is this some kind of a joke to you?” she spat, her fists clenched at her sides. “Our parents' war is about to become ours! Figure out which side you’re on.”

Hiccup shrank back slightly, fiddling with the strap of his tunic, his voice faltering. “I was just—”

“No, you weren’t,” Astrid interrupted, her voice sharp, her eyes narrowing as she stared down at him. “You never fight back. What happens when that hesitation gets one of us burned alive, huh? What if it’s me? Or him?” She jabbed her finger toward Snotlout, who looked momentarily offended, furrowing his brow at the gesture.

“Hey, hey, calm down, Astrid. Leave him alone.”

Hiccup looked up, surprised. The words weren’t directed at him—they were directed at Astrid, but somehow, they wrapped around him like a shield. You gave him a hand and helped him get up. His breath caught in his throat as you stepped forward, standing between them with an easy, almost casual determination. You were standing up for him. He wasn’t used to that, especially not from someone who he had never tried to make a conversation with. Now, you and Hiccup weren’t close, nor were you friends. but something about the situation made you act.

Astrid whipped her head toward you, her frustration evident in the tight line of her mouth, though now there was a flicker of confusion mixed in with the anger. “What? You’re going to defend him now?”

You nodded, standing your ground. “He’s trying to figure things out, Astrid. You don’t have to push him this hard. We’re all under pressure, but that doesn’t mean you get to tear each other apart.” 

“And it’s not like we asked the Gods to give the responsibility of our parents to us,” you said, your voice a little more strained than you intended. Hiccup looked up at you, his brow furrowed, his hands still clasped tightly in front of him. He hadn’t expected that response. Neither had you. It just slipped out.

“Eh, she’s got a point there, lass.”

Astrid’s eyes flicked to you, her jaw tight. But she didn’t say anything. With a sharp exhale through her nose, she turned on her heel and walked off, boots striking the ground with clipped steps. The others followed in silence—Snotlout tossing a last glance back, Fishlegs adjusting his belt awkwardly, Ruff and Tuff muttering to each other but keeping close behind.

None of them looked at Hiccup.

Only Astrid’s shoulders stayed tense as she disappeared around the corner of the training paddock. Her anger wasn’t aimed at you—you could feel it in the way she hadn’t met your eyes. It was Hiccup she couldn’t even look at.

You didn’t stay behind like usual. Not today. You threw your gear over your shoulder, kept your head down, and started walking away—off the academy grounds, past the watchtower, and down the slope that led toward the cliffs. You thought of catching some fresh air in the woods, they normally have great scent due to the petrichor after raining.

“Hey—wait, [Name]!”

You slowed slightly but didn’t turn. You could hear him fumbling behind you. The voice was familiar—uncertain, hurried—but you’d recognize Hiccup’s anywhere, nervous, a little hoarse and scrawny like the cry of a newborn yak. You heard his boots scuff as he jogged to catch up, the unevenness of his steps telling you he wasn’t used to chasing people down. His voice always sounded a little too big for him, like he’d borrowed it from someone braver.

He reached your side, a little out of breath, one hand holding the strap of his satchel as if it might anchor him. “You—uh—you left kind of fast.”

“Food won’t wait for me,” you said, not breaking stride. The excuse slipped out easily, but it was a half-truth at best.

Hiccup hesitated, looking ahead before speaking again. “Why... why did you defend me?” Hiccup finally asked. He wasn’t sure if he even wanted to hear the answer. Part of him thought he didn’t deserve it—he hadn’t earned it. He’d been a disappointment to so many already.

You glanced at your back. His expression wasn’t angry or accusatory—just... confused. Tentative. Like someone standing on a frozen lake, unsure how thick the ice really was.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he said. “Back there… with Astrid. I mean, she wasn’t wrong. I mess things up. All the time.” There wasn’t self-pity in his voice—at least not the performative kind. It was just fact, spoken plainly. Like he’d memorized that line after hearing it too often.

“Don’t think of yourself badly, Hiccup.” Hiccup looked down, brow furrowed. He kicked at a pebble near his foot, watched it skip across the path.

“You’re brave,” you added, your voice softer now. “Not in the way people like Astrid think of it. But in your own way. The kind that matters.”

He blinked. For a moment, he didn’t seem to know what to do with your words. Then he laughed under his breath—a short, awkward sound, more surprised than amused.

“I don’t feel very brave,” he murmured.

“Most brave people don’t,” you replied.

“Thanks,” he said finally, quietly. “For saying that. For... being there.”

From that evening on, Hiccup started sticking closer than ever, almost as if he’s your second shadow.

At first, it was subtle. He'd show up early to group meetings, always managing to sit beside you even when the others rearranged themselves chaotically. He'd offer to carry an extra pack, pass you a flask of water without asking, or stand just a step behind you when tensions with the others ran high—as if your presence somehow steadied him.

Then it became impossible not to notice.

You’d turn a corner in the stables and there he’d be, scribbling in his sketchbook but glancing up the moment your heels hit the stone floor. He trailed you during patrol shifts under the pretense of wanting “extra field experience,” and at mealtime, his tray would somehow always end up across from yours. You never called him out on it. You didn’t need to. And strangely enough, you didn’t mind.

Whenever you were out in the field, testing your own methods—fast, unorthodox, bordering on reckless—Hiccup’s eyes never left you. Not once. While the others braced for dragon fire or fumbled with their shields, he’d be watching you, his gaze locked in quiet awe, trying to memorize the way you moved, how you timed your shifts between evasion and precision, like you were dancing with danger rather than dodging it.

You called him out the third time it happened.

“You’re gonna get torched if you keep staring like that,” you snapped, yanking him behind cover after a Nadder’s blast barely missed his leg. “Keep your eyes on the dragon, not on me.”

At first, the others teased him for it. Snotlout made howling noises every time Hiccup moved to follow you, and Ruffnut started keeping an imaginary tally—“That’s ten sightings today, folks. At this rate, he’ll be part of [Name]’s shadow by next week.” But Hiccup didn’t rise to it. He didn’t deny it, didn’t make excuses. He just gave them that sheepish smile of his and kept doing what he was doing.

[muniimyg]

♡ 03: where art thou? why not upon-eth me?

series m.list // taglist

note: u can all thank my prof for pushing back my case study due date 😍 ,, tbh i give u cute moments in this pt and then i ruin ur life at the end <3 flood my asks and i'll update soon HAHAH ,, mwwaaaa

warnings: oc flirts with jk a lot ,, smut (sort of) ,, oc slaps jk ,, big fight lol

//

for obvious reasons, that car ride changed everything. 

it’s like a switch flips in your mind, a new experiment, a new challenge. you’re determined to push him. test him. see how far you can go without him snapping.

so, the week begins and you take notes. like a scientist, you’re methodical. 

careful.

but your methods are anything but innocent. 

you're testing him with everything you can think of: words, touches, close proximity—anything to see how he reacts. 

and fuck, does he react.

when monday rolls around, you start subtle. 

you’re sending him texts, clingy and cute, with just the right amount of affection to make his insides churn. you’re expecting a response, something—anything. but when the texts go unanswered for hours, your smile falters for just a second. 

his replies come in cold, sparse, detached.

nerd [12:13PM]: u’re trying too hard  nerd [12:18PM]: stfu for the rest of the day, yea?

on tuesday night, you attempt to perfect the art of being close without overdoing it. 

it’s a delicate balance—teasing the line between friendly and intimate, but you feel confident… partly because the circumstances are on your side. mentally, you thank jimin for inviting you over to join their movie night. 

as you sit next to him on the couch, your body just a little too close, brushing against him ever so slightly. your shoulder presses against his, the fabric of your shirt grazing his skin. 

it’s subtle, but it’s enough to make him feel the weight of your presence beside him. you watch him out of the corner of your eye, waiting for any sign, any reaction. his eyes stay glued to the screen, but you catch the subtle tension in his shoulders. 

you can feel it in the way his muscles tighten, like he’s aware but is trying to pretend otherwise.

you don’t pull away. 

instead, you lean in further, your body pressing against his just a little bit more. you can feel the heat radiating from him, and it makes your heart race. you let your head gently rest on his shoulder, letting the weight of it fall naturally.

for a moment, his body is still, like he’s frozen in place. his breathing stays steady, controlled, but you can tell he’s aware. his jaw tightens ever so slightly, and you notice the way his fingers twitch, like they’re itching to push you away, but he doesn’t. his hand, though relaxed, sits just inches from yours, and you can almost feel the friction between the two of you, an invisible force keeping you both in place.

"are you serious?" he glares at you.

you take note that his voice is flat but tinged with something else—like he’s trying to convince himself this is all just a joke.

you smile, pretending to play innocent. 

“what?”

“___…” he warns. “… fuck. whatever.”

“yeah?” you tease. “whatever? jungkook, i’m just sitting here, enjoying the movie," you say, tone light, as if there’s nothing unusual about the way your body is pressed so close to his.

he shifts uncomfortably, but you can tell it’s not a total rejection. 

his arm, once resting by his side, is now slightly tense, fingers flexing just a bit. 

“you’re really pushing it today," he adds, his voice gruff, but there’s no real bite behind it—just a hint of reluctant amusement. “the guys will notice.”

you don’t move.

you just stay there, head still resting against his shoulder, feeling the way his body stays taut beneath you. 

“let them.”

his jaw tightens again, but he doesn’t push you away. 

instead, his arm stiffens where it rests against the back of the couch, like he’s holding himself back. 

“you comfortable?”

“mhm,” you answer half-heartedly. 

“with me?" he says, raising an eyebrow as he looks at you sideways. "keep lying to yourself. you should quit this shit soon.”

you smile knowingly.

his words are harsher than he means them to be, but his body says otherwise. he’s not pulling away, not really. his chest rises and falls with a quiet exhale, and you can feel the warmth of his body seeping into yours.

“if it’s so shit, then you move." you murmur, pressing just a little closer.

he shakes his head, his hand twitching again like he’s about to do something, but he doesn’t. 

instead, he leans his head back against the couch and tries to focus on the movie. you can tell he’s trying to hide the way his breath catches whenever you get too close, but you notice it all the same.

the silence settles, but it's different now. 

you’re closer, and you can feel the way the tension thickens. he doesn’t push you away, and he doesn’t pull closer, but his body is no longer stiff. 

there’s a slight shift—a crack in the armor, just enough for you to know you’re making progress.

when wednesday arrives, the tension between you and jungkook shifts. you can feel it in the air—a subtle change, like a shift in the current. you’ve pushed him just enough that now, you know he’s starting to feel something. 

maybe it’s curiosity, maybe irritation, but whatever it is, it’s there. 

and that’s when you go for it.

you’ve intruded his home for the 2nd time this week (thank you yoongi for the emergency key). you’re standing behind him as he fiddles with something at the counter. you glance at him, making sure the space between you is just close enough that you can brush up against him without making it too obvious. 

you take your time as you lean across the counter to grab a mug. 

the movement is slow and deliberate. you make sure your boobs brush against his arm as you do. he’s taller than you so no matter what; it’s inevitable. 

he’ll see what you intend for him to see.

it’s casual like you’re just going about your business… but you watch him carefully, studying his reaction. his body stiffens for the briefest second. his eyes flicker, narrowing, before he quickly schools his features again, turning away slightly. 

but you see it—you feel the way his jaw tightens, the way his shoulders shift. 

it’s all there, even though he tries to play it cool.

you don’t move away. 

instead, you linger just a little longer, standing closer than you need to, your body just a bit too close to his. you watch as his eyes flicker, the smallest hint of frustration in his gaze, before it softens into something you can’t quite place. 

maybe it’s confusion. maybe it’s something more.

“you look handsome today,” you say, the words slipping out with that playful, almost too-casual tone. though your voice is light, there’s a little challenge in it. you know how it sounds, and you know it’s enough to get under his skin.

for a moment, there’s a beat of silence. 

he doesn’t flinch. 

doesn’t even look at you directly. 

… but you can feel the weight of his gaze on you, and when you glance at him, you see his lips pressed together tightly. his face is impassive, but you know better. he’s holding back, trying to keep it together.

“cut it out,” he utters under his breath. 

it’s not the sharp command you expect, though. it’s more like a warning. like, he’s not sure what to do with the way you’re pushing him. his gaze flickers down to your lips for a fraction of a second before he quickly looks away.

you grin, knowing you’ve struck a nerve. 

then, you pull back just slightly, but you don’t move too far. you keep your body close, letting the space between you linger with tension. slowly, your eyes flicker to his, catching the way his gaze darts between your eyes and lips, and the flicker of hesitation in his expression.

you know it’s working. 

the coldness is a mask, a shield, but it’s starting to crack. the way his body tightens ever so slightly, the way his breath hitches for a fraction of a second, it’s all the proof you need. he’s trying to pretend he’s not affected, but you can see through it.

innocently, you tilt your head, studying him. 

"what’s wrong, jungkook?" you ask, your tone dripping with false sweetness. "did i make you uncomfortable? or just horny?”

he looks at you for a long moment, his eyes narrowing again, but you see the shift in him. 

he’s not as cold as he wants to be. 

there’s something softer in the way he looks at you now, the way his shoulders relax just a little. but the silence stretches between you, and you can feel the unspoken words beginning to weigh in.

jungkook stays quiet but the tension is undeniable, and you know—you know—he’s not as unaffected as he wants to be.

on thursday, you decide to be a menace.

the timing has to be perfect, so you wait outside jungkook’s lecture hall, pretending to be on your phone. 

when the doors open, students file out in waves, and there he is—black hoodie, backpack slung over one shoulder, looking as effortlessly cool as ever. he’s walking with a few of his classmates, casually chatting. you wait until he’s just a few feet away before stepping into his path.

the bump is perfectly orchestrated. 

your shoulder brushes his, and your notebook, pens, and phone all tumble to the ground with an exaggerated clatter.

“oh no…” you sigh dramatically, crouching down immediately to gather your scattered belongings. jungkook stops, his classmates following suit, their conversation halting as they glance at you and then down at your outfit—a fitted crop top and a tiny skirt that rides up a little too much when you kneel.

you hear a low whistle from one of the guys behind jungkook.

“damn,” someone murmurs, and that’s all it takes for him to snap. 

his jaw tightens as he bends down next to you, shoving your phone and notebook into a messy pile before grabbing your forearm, and making you stand.

“seriously?” he mutters, glancing behind him at his classmates, who are still ogling. “you couldn’t wait to drop all this somewhere without an audience?”

you blink innocently, brushing off your skirt as you stand. 

“it was an accident,” you pout at him. “but thanks for helping.”

his glare softens, but only slightly. he bends down again, this time crouching low and deliberately blocking the view of his classmates as he picks up your things.

“wanna introduce me to your nerd friends—“

when he straightens up, he thrusts the pile into your hands, but before you can even say anything, he asks, “where are you going?”

you hesitate, taken aback by the question. “uh, the other side of campus...”

jungkook doesn’t miss a beat. 

“i’ll walk you.”

“really?” you say, surprised, but already grinning. he looks like he regrets offering the second the words leave his mouth, but he doesn’t take it back. “you don’t have to. did you have a meeting or something with your marine conservation club?” 

he tilts his head at you. 

“what? i’m not mr. save the dolphins today? your tiny brain actually remembers my club name?”

you shrug.

“i’m not that dumb.”

“so you say,” he grumbles. “but yeah. i do have a meeting. i’ll just attend it late.”

gasping, you let out a last-minute squeal. “mr. perfect attendance is tarnishing his rep for me?”

“it’s fine,” he says flatly, glancing back at his friends and muttering something about catching up with them later. before you can tease any further, he’s taking your notebook and phone from your hands, tucking them under his arm as if it’s his duty now.

as the two of you walk, you chatter away, filling the silence. 

normally, he’d roll his eyes or tell you to be quiet, but today, he listens. 

he nods occasionally, even hums in acknowledgment, though his eyes are straight ahead, his expression carefully neutral. you can’t help but notice, though, the way his hand finds its way to your waist—lightly at first, almost hesitant, but then it lingers, his fingers splayed across your side as though keeping you close.

and then, as if his subconscious takes over, his hand slips lower, brushing against the curve of your ass. your steps falter for a moment, and you turn to look at him, a teasing smile tugging at your lips.

“jungkook?” you say, arching a brow. “y-your hand…”

he blinks, glances down, and quickly pulls his hand back, shoving it into the pocket of his hoodie as it burns him. 

“shut up,” he hushes you, his ears turning red. "you wanna act like an ass? at least give me some."

you laugh, loud and unapologetic, and he glares at you, his lips pressed into a thin line. 

but you notice the way his shoulders are less tense now, the faint hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. he doesn’t say anything as he walks you the rest of the way, carrying your things like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

on friday, you leave him alone.

no texts, no calls, and no showing up.

by 2pm; jeon jungkook realizes he misses you.

so, jungkook caves.

nerd [3:02PM]: wya? nerd [3:04PM]: come over :/ yn [3:08PM]: hiii yn [3:08PM]: what for ? nerd [3:09PM]: sent image attachment nerd [3:09PM]: figure it out ?

you don’t see jungkook until saturday night.

… which, isn’t too bad considering it would’ve just been like… a day and half since he last saw you—but it was bad. 

jungkook ran through all the possibilities in his head. 

could he be sick?

could he be undergoing some sort of unconscious stress that’s leading him to feel this way about you? 

or… was it finally time for him to accept the truth?

when the doorbell rings, jungkook wants to answer it. 

but he stops himself.

he isn’t easy. 

he doesn’t want to be. 

instead, he lets one of the guys answer it. 

as you walk into the room, you’re greeted with the view of the guys are lounging around, a few beers and snacks spread across the coffee table. jungkook is in his usual spot, slouched in the corner of the couch, his hood up, legs stretched out like he owns the place.

he looks up when you enter, his dark eyes flicking to yours for just a second before darting away, as if the sight of you doesn’t make his heart trip over itself. you catch the subtle change in his posture—he straightens ever so slightly, his legs pulling in just a bit, his shoulders losing their slump.

“hi,” you call out, your voice light and warm as you shrug off your coat.

he nods at you, keeping his face neutral. 

“hey,” he replies, the word coming out gruff, almost dismissive, but you don’t miss the way his gaze lingers as you move to take a seat. 

you plop down on the couch next to him, close enough that your thigh brushes his. he stiffens at the contact, his hand twitching where it rests on his knee, but he doesn’t shift away.

“mad at me?” you tease, tilting your head to look at him, your lips quirking into a grin.

he looks at you funny. 

“why would i be?”

you shrug.

“you aren’t greeting me like the way i want you to.”

he leans forward. “how do you want me to greet you?”

you pause, pretending to take a moment to think. then, you take his hand and gently place it on your upper inner thigh. his eyes widen and you stroke his hand gently. 

“wanna—”

he scoffs, his expression carefully guarded. jungkook catches your bluff.

“god, you’re annoying.”

yet, the corner of his mouth betrays him, twitching upward just a little.

you giggle and then push his hand off. 

the banter is effortless, the tension between you subtle but electric. 

throughout the evening, you’re all warmth and light, leaning into him when you laugh, your hand brushing his arm or shoulder every chance you get. at first, jungkook attempts to resist. 

his replies are short and his eyes anywhere but on you… but as the hours slip by, you feel him softening, his walls starting to crack just enough for you to sneak through.

then comes the game of mafia.

the group gathers around the coffee table, cards dealt, and jungkook ends up as the supposed villain. the accusations start flying almost immediately.

“you’re way too quiet, man,” taehyung declares, pointing at jungkook with a dramatic flourish. “you’ve got ‘mafia’ written all over you.”

jin chimes in, grinning. “yeah, it’s always the quiet ones. plus, look at him—he’s sweating.”

“i’m not sweating,” jungkook snaps, sitting up straighter, his jaw tightening. “i’m wearing a fucking hoodie and you guys turned up the heat. you're all so fucking bad at this game, you've all been sabotaging me physically!”

the others laugh, piling on more ridiculous accusations. even you can’t help but join in, a mischievous grin tugging at your lips.

“sorry, jungkook,” you say, shrugging with mock innocence. “you do look kind of guilty.”

his eyes snap to yours, and for a moment, something raw flickers there—hurt, maybe, or frustration. his lips part like he’s about to say something, but instead, he pushes back his chair and stands abruptly.

“what the fuck do you know, ___?”

old habits die hard.

“chill,” yoongi warns. “it’s just a game.”

“whatever,” jungkook says, his voice clipped. “this game’s stupid anyway.”

without another word, he turns and storms off, leaving the room in stunned silence. the sound of his bedroom door slamming echoes.

the group exchanges awkward glances before taehyung leans toward you with a teasing smirk. 

“our boyfriend is in a mood… what should we do?”

jin chuckles. “___, you should probably go check on him before he sulks himself into oblivion.”

rolling your eyes, you push yourself up from the couch. 

“he’s so dramatic,” you chime, but there’s a softness to your voice as you head up the stairs and down the hall towards his room. 

a part of you hesitates… partly because of the event that occurred the last time you were here. but, you shrug it off. as you stand before his door, you raise your fist to knock but abruptly, he swings his door open.

“what do you want?”

“how’d you know—”

“you’ve got heavy ass fucking feet.”

you hiss at him. “yah, sore loser energy does not look good on you.”

opening the door wider, you step inside. he huffs and sits on the edge of his bed. with his hood still up, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, he glares at you with a mix of irritation and something else—something softer.

“did they send you up here to check up on me? what did they bribe you with this time?”

“nothing actually,” you answer him truthfully. “i’ve got my own motivations.”

jungkook can’t help but crack half a smile. 

“like what?”

you lean against the doorframe, crossing your arms with a small, knowing smile. “wouldn’t you like to know?”

before he lets himself enjoy this moment, his jaw tightens, and he looks away. his gaze fixes on the floor. 

“why’d you turn on me?” he huffs, his voice quieter now, almost vulnerable.

you push off the doorframe, stepping closer.

“it’s just a game, jungkook,” you say gently, your voice deliberately soft. “you’re not actually mad, are you?”

his shoulders tense, a flicker of something crossing his face—annoyance, maybe, but there’s something deeper underneath. his hands clench into fists on his thighs, the muscles in his forearms flexing as though he’s trying to ground himself.

“it’s not the game,” he finally says, his voice barely above a whisper, rough and raw like it was dragged out of him against his will.

you blink, caught off guard by the weight of his tone. “then what is it?”

his jaw tightens, and for a moment, he doesn’t answer. his fingers twitch at his sides, and then he’s dragging a hand through his hair, pushing back his hood. his hair falls messily over his forehead, but he doesn’t fix it. when his eyes finally meet yours, it’s like being hit with a tidal wave—anger, frustration, and something else that makes your breath catch.

“you.”

your heart stutters in your chest, but you keep your composure, tilting your head slightly. “me?”

he exhales sharply, shaking his head like he’s trying to find the right words.

“you play too much.”

his voice is rough but lacking its usual sharpness.

“you get in my head… and then you just—” he cuts himself off, the frustration rolling off him in waves. his leg bounces slightly, and his hands grip his thighs again, knuckles pale from the tension.

“you don’t even care,” he says finally, his voice quieter now, almost like he doesn’t want to admit it. “what the fuck were you doing to me all week? experimenting or some shit? fuck, isn’t your major psychology or something? you’re basically being trained to be a psycho.”

the jab stings, but you ignore it. instead, your chest tightens at his words, the vulnerability he’s trying so hard to bury beneath his irritation. you take a step closer, your knees almost brushing his.

“i do care,” you say softly, reaching out, your fingers brushing against his knuckles.

his gaze drops to where your fingers touch his, and for a moment, he’s completely still, like he doesn’t know what to do. then, slowly, his hand turns over, palm-up, brushing against yours with a hesitance that makes your chest ache.

“then can you stop messing with me?”

there’s something about his tone—about the way he says this. his words are one thing, but the ache of his deliverance is completely something else.

“i wasn’t messing with you,” you whisper, your gaze locked on his.

his lips part slightly, and his breathing is uneven as his eyes search your face, like he’s looking for something—an answer, a hint, anything.

“then what are you doing?”

you lean in, closing the distance just enough that you can feel the heat radiating off him. your smile is soft, almost teasing, but there’s a weight behind it.

“making you want me.”

jungkook is good. 

you have no idea how or why, but your underwear and skirt are on the other side of his bedroom floor. 

your legs are spread wide for him, as he licks his fingers and begins to gently drag it inside your folds. he separates them before lowering himself in. he looks at you, not breaking any eye contact as he flicks his tongue against your clit. 

you clench your fist. 

after a few licks and sucks, he lifts his head away. he brings his fingers to your mouth, cueing you to suck on them. 

you do. 

as he places his thick fingers inside, you part your mouth and suck on them. bobbing your head and twisting your tongue around his digits as you suck—jungkook winces at the way you do so. 

“fuck,” he utters. 

as he takes his fingers out, he begins to massage your folds. his pressure is firm yet pleasurable. his fingers trace around your entrance and play with your clit. you feel your toes curling as he breathes near your pussy. 

it pulsates. 

he can’t help it. the view is just too fucking perfect. jungkook massages your folds, spreading them a part before he spits on it. he takes his thumb and rubs in his saliva. massaging it in, slowly and surely—mixing it with your wetness. 

“good kitty,” jungkook praises. “your pretty pussy is swelling up, ___. what’s going on? excited? horny? happy? you’re so wet, baby. so fucking—do you hear it?”

jungkook shoves his fingers inside you, curling and pumping them in and out. you gasp at the sharpness but feel completely immersed in his act. 

.. and yes.

you do hear it.

you hear how wet your fucking pussy is.

“o-oh my god! j-jungkook—”

“yeah, baby?”

your stomach twists. 

“d-don’t—stop. stop calling me—”

“sorry,” he apologizes quickly, shifting his body to tower over you. he caresses your face, his thumb lingering on your bottom lip. then, he kisses your cheek and trails his kisses down to your neck. you moan at his softness. 

he’s so close to you. it’s only now that you realize how addictive he is.. from the way he smells to the way his touches make you feel…

he’s perfect.

in this moment, he is everything to you.

“sorry,” he repeats against your skin. “i’m sorry, kitty.”

you gulp. 

“do you forgive me?” he pouts, resting his forehead against yours. “hmm? forgive me, please.”

“i forgive you,” you breathe. “c-can you—”

just as you reach for him, he shakes his head. 

“can’t kiss you,” jungkook sighs. “won’t know how to get rid of you after.”

you smile. 

“you wanna get rid of me after this?”

jungkook stays quiet. 

you shift. 

“no.”

just as jungkook leans in, your lips inches a part—

the door suddenly creaks open.

a girl—someone you didn’t recognize—steps halfway in, her hand still on the doorknob, her brows lifting in surprise when she sees the two of you.

her eyes darts between your flushed face and jungkook.

“oh, shit! uh—sorry,” she says quickly, taking a step back but still lingering awkwardly in the doorway. “i didn’t know you had a tutoring session before mine... i’ll, um, come back later, then? sorry to interrupt.”

before you can even process her words, she’s gone, the door clicking shut behind her. the sound left a hollow sort of silence in its wake like the air had been sucked out of the room.

you blink at the now-closed door, the words tutoring session before mine looping in your head like a broken record. your chest tightens, heat crawls up your neck as you turn back to jungkook. 

his expression is already shifting, panic bleeding into his features.

you shift your body entirely, pushing him off you.

“wait,” he starts, “shit, ___. it’s not like that—”

“okay,” you say flatly. 

you get up from his bed and grab your underwear and skirt. yanking them on, your movements frustrate jungkook. 

he doesn’t know what to do. 

in any and every angle—he’s in the wrong.

“i’m sorry, okay?” he tries again, stepping closer. his voice was softer now, almost pleading. “it wasn’t—i didn’t know she’d just barge in like that. i thought the door was locked—”

you shove past him, your shoulder brushing his as you make your way toward the door. you could feel the pressure building behind your eyes, a sick mix of anger and humiliation clawing at your throat.

“wait—” his hand shot out, grabbing your wrist, but you ripped it free, spinning around to glare at him.

“don’t.”

“___, please—”

“it’s not about whether or not the door was locked—” you choke, “it’s… fuck. tutoring session, really? is that what i am right now? is that what she is—”

“no,” jungkook answers sternly. “holy fuck, please. let’s talk about this—”his jaw tightened, and for a moment, he looked like he was about to let you go, to just let you leave. but then he took a step forward, his voice sharp and cutting—

“___, what did you want from me?”

you freeze, your hand still on the doorknob, your back to him. the words hit you like a slap, knocking the wind out of you.

jungkook takes a chance. 

he steps closer to you. 

“... because, honestly, i don’t think you even know.”

you stay quiet. 

jungkook clears his throat. 

“well, fuck. if you don’t know, then it’s not my fault,” he says, his tone hard now, defensive. “you can't want things from me and then not know how to handle shit, ___. you don’t get to make me another one of your fucking situationships. you wanted me to want you and this—holy shit. this isn't my fault. it’s yours—”

suddenly, your palm connects with his cheek before you even realize it. the sound of the slap reverberates in the room. his head jerked to the side, and for a moment, he just stands there, stunned.

your hand stung, your chest heaving as you stared at him, your vision blurring at the edges.

“i hate you.”

“___, i’m sorry—”

but it’s too late. 

you don’t even bother looking back as you storm out of jungkook’s room, your chest heaving with a mix of anger and humiliation. the tears are already burning at the corners of your eyes, but you blink them back, determined not to let them fall. your feet carry you down the hall, towards the stairs, your vision blurry with rage.

“wait—” jungkook’s voice echoes behind you, followed by the thud of his footsteps as he chases after you. he hustles, dressing himself as he goes after you.

“fuck off!” you snap, your voice trembling but firm.

he doesn’t listen. 

of course, he doesn’t. 

“holy shit—please! ___, stop. just fucking hear me out—” he pleads, his tone exasperated, like he doesn’t know what else to say.

“stop?” you spin around halfway down the stairs, glaring up at him. “stop what, jungkook? stop assuming? stop feeling humiliated? stop—”

your voice cracks, and you hate how raw it sounds.

“whatever.”

jungkook freezes on the step above you, his lips parted as if he’s going to respond, but nothing comes out.

you don’t wait for him to gather his words. 

you turn back and keep walking, practically jogging down the last few steps and into the living room where everyone else is. their laughter dies down the second they see you—flustered, teary-eyed, and furious—followed immediately by jungkook chasing after you.

“uh, what’s happening?” namjoon asks, his eyebrows raised as he glances between you and jungkook.

“are you two fighting?” jin’s tone is a mix of concern and curiosity, his head tilting as he watches the scene unfold.

"fuck," jungkook groans. "no shit, hyung."

“guys, let’s all chill,” taehyung interjects, raising his hands like a referee. “we’re all friends here—”

“he’s no friend.” you cut him off, your voice sharp and laced with emotion. you’re trembling now, fighting the tears that threaten to spill over. 

the room goes silent.

even taehyung, who was halfway through a casual shrug, stops mid-gesture. everyone’s eyes dart to jungkook, whose expression shifts from startled to pained in a split second.

“what am i to you, then?” jungkook asks, his voice low but audible enough in the tense quiet. he takes a step toward you, his hand reaching out before falling limply to his side. 

you don’t answer. 

you just shake your head, the tears finally breaking free as you turn on your heel and head for the door. the air feels suffocating, and you need to get out of there before your emotions betray you any further.

“wait—” jungkook’s voice cracks, and for a moment, it sounds like he’s desperate. he jogs after you again, his hand catching your wrist just as you’re about to reach the front door.

“why the fuck are you so pissed about this?” jungkook cries. “holy shit, you’re infuriating. you know that?”

“are you done?” you ask him coldly. 

a beat. 

“do you want me to be?”

[simplygojo]

Under the Desk ⸺ Nanami

author's note ⸺ I may or may not have a crush on the handsome senior consultant on my team...so what. pairing ⸺ Kento Nanami x reader teaser ⸺ "It should have told you that eventually, you’d end up here: bent over his desk, legs spread wide for your mentor, who was more than happy to show you the ropes in a way that had nothing to do with consulting." content ⸺ 18+ SMUT, MDNI, hot office nanami, age gap implied, lowkey perv nanami, office siren vibessss, oral sex (reader recv.), reader got that WAP, reader has a vagina, reader uses female pronouns

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Kento Nanami didn’t particularly enjoy training new hires—especially the ones who were on a short contract like you were. They were often overzealous, unpolished, and too eager to prove themselves. But when you walked in on your first day, something in him shifted.

Nanami wasn’t proud of the thoughts that crossed his mind when you walked into the office on your first day—He blamed that little skirt. Too tight, too short, hugging your hips in a way that wasn’t at all appropriate for a junior consultant. And yet, it wasn’t the skirt’s fault he couldn’t stop staring.

He cleared his throat and looked away. 

This wasn’t him. He wasn’t that guy—the type to ogle a junior or let his mind wander to places it had no business going. 

You were new, eager to learn, and assigned to him as your mentor because of his reputation for professionalism. And so, despite his initial lapse in judgment, he resolved to keep his thoughts in check.

But you didn’t make it easy.

You had this way about you—bright-eyed and ambitious, always so eager to please. Every time you asked him a question, you’d lean in, wide-eyed and genuinely curious, your voice sweet and lilting. When you listened, you bit your lip in concentration, nodding along like his every word was gospel.

Nanami told himself he was imagining it, that you weren’t actually flirting with him. You were just... enthusiastic. 

But then there were the moments that felt too deliberate to ignore. Like the time you stayed after hours, your blazer draped over the back of your chair, leaving only the silky blouse underneath. It wasn’t see-through exactly, but in the low light of the office, he could see the faint outline of your bra.

He forced himself to look at his monitor, jaw tight, and tried to focus on the report in front of him. “Get a grip,” he muttered under his breath. This was a slippery slope, and he wasn’t about to fall.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

Things escalated when you suggested the coffee chats. You’d said it so innocently, wanting to hear more about the job and his career path, but Nanami hesitated. 

Alone. With you. Outside of the office. It wasn’t a good idea.

Still, he agreed. He convinced himself it was harmless, part of his role as a mentor.

The first coffee chat was fine. He kept things strictly professional, answering your questions about client strategies and work-life balance. But then you started showing up in skirts shorter than usual, leaning forward a little too much when you laughed.

Your questions turned more personal—how he handled stress, what he did to unwind, if he’d always been this... dedicated.

He noticed your eyes drifting, lingering on his hands as he stirred his coffee, on the way his shirt sleeves strained against his forearms. And you—you—must have noticed the way his gaze followed the curve of your legs as you crossed them.

By the third ‘coffee chat’, Nanami couldn’t lie to himself anymore. He wanted you. Desperately.

He told himself it was harmless, that he could keep it professional even as his thoughts grew more explicit. But then came the late nights in his office. You’d stay back, asking for feedback on your work, standing close enough that he could feel the heat radiating off you.

“Thank you for your help, Nanami,” you said one night, looking up at him through your lashes.

He nodded stiffly, stepping back to create space between you. “It’s my job,” he replied, his voice gruffer than he intended.

He should have stopped it there. Should have set boundaries. But he didn’t.

All of this—the coffee chats, the lingering looks, the late nights—should have been a warning. 

It should have told you that eventually, you’d end up here: bent over his desk, legs spread wide for your mentor, who was more than happy to show you the ropes in a way that had nothing to do with consulting.

Nanami hadn’t intended to go this far. Truly, he hadn’t. But the moment your trembling voice broke into soft, pleading whimpers, any sense of guilt burst.

His mouth found its way to places he’d only imagined in quiet, shameful moments—places that had haunted his late nights and unguarded thoughts.

The slickness of your pretty pink folds coated his lips and chin, shining faintly in the dim light of his office. His name spilled from your mouth like a prayer, broken and reverent, as he worked you closer and closer to the edge.

Nanami knew he was losing control. Knew he’d already crossed every line imaginable. But when he felt your thighs quiver on either side of his head, your fingers tugging helplessly at his hair, he could not have cared any less.

All of this—the coffee chats, the late nights, the way your body had grown so eager for his attention—should have given you an indicator—should have told you that you'd end up like this…breathless and undone in his office, his mouth working you open, claiming you in ways you couldn't have imagined.

And that, dear reader, is the story of how you were secured a permanent contract.

[pandacherryblossoms]

𐙚 Enhypen Sex Positions 𐙚

Request

Genre: Smut MDNI 18+

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, Dom/sub dynamics, Power play, Praise/degradation kink, Rough sex, Choking, Spanking, Possessiveness, Strength kink, Daddy kink, Explicit language

Heeseung — Face Down, Ass Up

Heeseung’s obsession with this position stems from the way it strips you bare and lets him take the lead without holding back. There’s nothing more addicting to him than seeing you completely surrendered to the moment—back arched, cheek pressed into the mattress, and ass raised just for him. It gives him a front-row seat to all his favorite things: the sound of your choked-out moans when he slams into you just right, the tremble in your thighs as you try to stay up, the way your fingers curl around the sheets when he shifts angles and hits that one spot. Heeseung doesn’t just want to fuck you—he wants to ruin you in the most delicious way, to make sure you’re still shaking from it hours later. The grip he has on your hips says you’re not going anywhere, and the way he drags his cock slow and deep before snapping forward again lets you know—he’s not done until you’ve cried for him.

“You look so fucking pretty like this,” he groans, hand gripping your hair to pull your head back just enough so he can hear your broken gasp. “Don’t hide those sounds. Let me hear how good I make you feel.”

You whimper his name, voice catching when he suddenly slaps your ass, sharp and possessive. “Yeah? You like being fucked like this? Helpless? Open for me?”

His hips grind deeper, one hand snaking down to wrap around your throat from behind, holding you steady while he pistons forward. “You’re gonna take everything I give you, baby. No running. No squirming. Just my good girl taking her dick like she should.”

When you fall apart again, legs shaking and voice wrecked, he leans in closer, breath hot against your ear. “That’s it. Just like that. You were made for me, weren’t you?”

Jay — Over the Edge

Jay doesn’t just dominate—he owns. The edge of the bed, a countertop, a table—wherever he has you bent, one thing never changes: you’re exactly where he wants you, at his mercy, with nowhere to run. This position feeds every part of his control kink. Your body laid out, spine arched, completely exposed and helpless to his pace as he drives into you with unrelenting force. One hand clamped to your waist, the other tangled in your hair or tightening around your throat—Jay doesn’t play when it comes to power. He thrives off the whimpers you try to hold back, the shake in your voice when you beg, the desperation in your eyes when he pulls back just to deny you. This isn’t about quick pleasure—it’s discipline, it’s control, it’s showing you who you belong to. And he takes his time doing it.

“You think you can take it all without asking?” His voice is sharp, low, sending shivers straight down your spine. His palm spreads between your shoulder blades, forcing your chest down as his hips slam forward. “You don’t get to make the rules, sweetheart. I do.”

Your hands scramble for something to hold onto, but he grabs your wrists and pins them to the bed in one hand. “Stay fucking still.”

A broken moan spills from your lips as his thrusts get rougher, and Jay just smirks above you, breathing heavy. “You feel that? That’s what it means to be mine.”

He leans in, lips brushing your ear. “No cumming until I say so. You don’t want to find out what happens if you disobey.”

When your legs start to tremble and your breathing breaks, he drags his hand down your spine and mutters, “Good girl. That’s more like it. Take it for me.”

Jake — Pretzel Dip

Jake is a romantic—but he’s still in charge. The pretzel dip is his perfect balance: it lets him keep you close, locked in with your legs hooked high and his arms wrapped tight around you, while still being the one in control. He gets to watch everything—your reactions, the way your face twists with every deep, calculated thrust, how your fingers claw at his back when he grinds into the spot that makes you crumble. The position is intimate, sensual, and full of control. He doesn’t need to pin you down to remind you who’s in charge—he just holds you steady, kisses your neck between each slow thrust, and ruins you with praise and pressure. He takes his time with it, savoring every breathless cry, every whispered plea, making sure you feel just how good he’s giving it.

“You’re so perfect like this,” he breathes against your cheek, hips rolling deep and slow. “Wrapped around me, takin’ everything I give you.”

His voice is soft but commanding, full of heat that makes your whole body tense. “Look at me, baby. Don’t hide those pretty eyes.”

When you do, his smile is all warmth and desire. He brushes your hair back and leans in to kiss you, tongue lazy, filthy with affection.

“Can feel you squeezing me—fuck, you’re close, huh?” One arm locks tighter around your waist, pulling you in deeper. “You don’t have to say it. I already know what my girl needs.”

You cry out, back arching, and he holds you tighter, whispering in your ear like it’s sacred. “Let me take care of you. You don’t have to think—just hold on and let me love you right.”

⸻

Sunghoon — Cowgirl

Sunghoon loves this position because it gives him the best of both worlds—watching you take control, only to snatch it back the second he gets greedy. There’s something addictive about the way your body moves above him, flushed and needy, your hands pressed to his chest as you ride him slow and deep. He lets you set the pace at first, a soft, teasing smirk on his lips as he watches you fall apart—but he’s never passive. One flicker of desperation in your eyes and he’s grabbing your hips, holding you down, thrusting up with a strength that leaves you gasping. Cowgirl gives him the perfect view of everything he wants: the way your back arches, your thighs tremble, the exact second you start chanting his name like a prayer. He loves how vulnerable you look even when you’re on top—because he knows he’s still the one in control.

His hands slide up your waist, slow and deliberate, thumbs pressing into your skin. “You look so fucking pretty like this,” he says softly, voice low and warm. “All mine, aren’t you?”

You nod, hips faltering as you try to keep your rhythm, but he’s already bucking up into you harder. “That’s it, baby. Let me feel how bad you want it.”

One hand cups your jaw, tilting your face down to meet his eyes. “Don’t look away. I wanna see you when you come on my cock.”

You whimper, leaning down until your forehead touches his, and he groans, hands spreading over your back. “Keep going. Just like that. Make it messy for me.”

When your pace stutters and you cry out, he doesn’t let up—his voice is a gentle command, thick with affection. “Ride it, baby. Daddy’s got you. You’re safe. You’re so fucking good for me.”

Sunoo — Lotus

Sunoo is addicted to the kind of closeness that makes your heart ache in the best way. For him, sex isn’t just physical—it’s emotional, spiritual, almost sacred. The lotus position is his favorite because it allows for everything he craves at once: skin-to-skin warmth, your limbs tangled around his, your foreheads touching as if nothing else in the world exists. He loves how your thighs squeeze his sides, how your arms lock around his shoulders, how your breath catches when he moves just right. There’s no rush with Sunoo—every thrust is slow, purposeful, full of emotion. His favorite thing is hearing the soft, breathy sounds you make only for him, right into his ear where no one else can hear. With his arms wrapped around your waist, holding you close, he feels like he’s inside more than your body—he’s in your soul.

His thumbs brush along your spine as he rocks into you, voice tender and low. “You feel that? How perfect we fit?”

You nod against his shoulder, arms tightening around him, and he hums softly, lips grazing your jaw. “It’s always like this with you… warm, close, real. I don’t want to be anywhere else.”

He kisses you again, slow and deep, and his hands roam your back like he’s memorizing every inch. “You don’t have to move, baby. Just hold onto me.”

Your breath hitches as he grinds deeper, and he pulls back just enough to look into your eyes. “I want you to feel how much I love you. Every time. Every second.”

He cups your face gently, forehead pressed to yours. “Stay with me. Just like this. Let’s fall apart together.”

Jungwon — Against the Wall

Jungwon is calm by nature, collected—but when it comes to you, when it comes to fucking you, that calm turns into cold, calculated control. He thrives on dominance, the kind that makes you tremble before he even touches you. Against the wall is his favorite because it strips away any illusion of control you might have. He lifts you like you weigh nothing, your legs wrapped around his waist, back pressed to the surface like he’s pinning you into place. You’re trapped—his to use, to take, to ruin. And he lives for it. One hand clamps down on your thigh to keep you up, the other wrapped around your throat or grabbing your jaw, forcing you to look at him while he drives his cock into you with slow, punishing force. It’s never fast—not until you’ve earned it. Jungwon believes in making you work for your pleasure, and he never lets you forget who’s in charge.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he growls, voice low and dangerous, forehead pressed to yours as he snaps his hips up hard enough to make your breath catch. “You stay right here—right where daddy put you.”

Your fingers claw at his shoulders, thighs shaking, but he just grips your jaw tighter, forcing your eyes to meet his. “Look at me while I fuck you,” he commands. “That’s it. You don’t come until I tell you to.”

You whimper something weak and broken, but he’s not having it. “Use your words.”

“Y-Yes, daddy,” you gasp.

“Good fucking girl,” he snarls, fucking into you deeper now, brutal and relentless. “I’m the only one who gets to ruin you like this. Don’t forget it.”

His hand slides down, cupping between your legs. “Feel how soaked you are? You love being daddy’s toy.”

Ni-ki — Doggy Style

Ni-ki likes the view. The way your back arches as he takes control, the smooth curve of your body, and how you look when you’re completely open for him. He’s got this cocky, confident energy, and he loves how his deep thrusts make you gasp, make you tremble under him. Doggy style gives him the perfect angle to fuck you exactly how he wants, slow or fast, deep or shallow—it’s all on him. He’s possessive, but not in a harsh way—more like he’s claiming you, marking you with each thrust. His hands are tight on your hips, guiding you back onto him when he wants it deeper, and his movements are precise, making sure you feel every inch of him. Ni-ki thrives on the control and loves hearing your breath hitch and your body react to him.

“Fuck, look at you—so beautiful like this,” he grunts, his hands tight on your hips, pulling you back to meet his thrusts. “Can’t wait to feel you come undone for me.”

Your back arches at the angle, your moans growing louder.

“You like that?” he growls, smacking your ass once—just enough to make you flinch. “You better keep that same energy, baby. Don’t make me do all the work.”

“Yes, Ni-ki,” you whimper, gripping the sheets as his pace picks up.

He lets out a low chuckle, the sound rough and satisfied. “Good girl. Now show me what you’ve got.”

[pellucid-constellations]

Fable - Acquiesce

You were falling, falling, without wings or fate to catch you. And Azriel—all Azriel could do was watch.

Warnings: Angst, injury, mentions of death (this will have more parts dw)

Masterlist

If the world ended, in that moment, in several moments, you weren’t sure you would notice. 

It could all go up in flames, decimating everything the light touched, and there wouldn’t be a flicker in your eye. 

Your gaze was locked with Azriel’s, trapped there with nothing that could sever that tie. If there were a bond, you were sure it would be screaming—for you to do something, to move. But there was no bond and you had abandoned any hope that one would form a while ago. 

Not with Elain. Not with the devotion he held for Mor for so many years. 

No bond, nothing screaming. 

Only, something was screaming. The sound met your ears as a muted hum, but you could pick out the pieces that framed its essence so easily. Because Azriel never screamed like that; he hardly ever raised his voice. 

The cliff continued to crumble, leaving you falling between bits of rubble and dust. If you’d had your wings—if they hadn’t been torn from your body so recently—you would have been fine. And maybe that was why you didn’t take action, your body too accustomed to the feeling of the ground giving beneath you, your wings always there to catch you as you fell. 

Azriel would have been the one to catch you, but he couldn’t. He thrashed and growled against the six Illyrian men it took to hold him down, the iron shackles at his arms rendering his shadows useless, and could only watch as you fell down and down and down. 

He had been the one to find you all those months ago, the amass of blood and the carnage of your wings still so fresh in his mind. 

He had pleaded with Rhys not to send you here so soon after the incident, but in the end, it was you who insisted on coming—on being the one to put an end to the brutal nature of this side of Illyria.

There had been an opening, and you would not take no for an answer. 

So Azriel watched as you fell. He watched as you corrected your balance and tried to find your footing on uneven ground, something he was still helping you with now that your wings were gone. He watched your shirt collar hang wrong as your wide eyes met his, the new wardrobe you had had to adopt still unnatural. He watched the pain on your face as you went. 

“Enough!” Azriel roared. “Stop! Release me and you will be spared.”

The Illyrians at his back only cackled and forced him back as the last inch of your body was lost beneath the edge of the cliff. 

Unrelenting terror found Azriel, twisting something so deep in his gut that he was sure it would never be repaired. And let it break him; there was nothing beyond you. 

He whispered your name as the sounds of rocks and trees and dirt toppled from the breakage. You didn’t scream. He tried to scream again, but he had already screamed himself hoarse and his throat was raw. 

He couldn’t reach Rhysand. 

Something stung along his arms and Azriel knew it was faebane—the same faebane that stopped you from fighting back. 

“She got what was coming to her,” one of the men sneered at Azriel’s ear. “She should have stayed away after we took her wings. Bitch couldn’t leave well enough alone, as with all women.” 

Azriel felt the rage building. Each breath felt like a burst, a stone on top of the pool of panic that sweltered in his stomach. He kept his gaze on the cliff as if you would somehow reappear there, just as you had done when they were children.

But you had had wings then, and you only ever messed around like that when Azriel was struggling. 

Always trying to make him smile, always trying to make things better. 

“Where’s your high lord now, huh, Shadowsinger? Where are his policies? The ones that’re supposed to keep women like that safe? Seems like without them, maybe she would have lived. One of his own. Dead. Because of him.” 

Dead. 

Azriel didn’t think you were dead. 

You weren’t dead, right? 

He couldn’t imagine that world. 

When your wings were taken, he feared that outcome for you several times. You had been so closed off and fearful, so empty without that piece of you. It had taken weeks to get you to speak and even longer to get you out of bed. 

All of that work, all of that healing—you couldn’t be dead. You were part of his life. You were part of him. 

“Take your hands off of me.” Azriel spoke with such an icy hatred the shadows beneath him quivered. 

The men laughed. 

Weak men always laughed. 

Azriel did not have access to the power that rolled beneath the azure glow of his siphons, but he didn’t need it. You were hurt, again, and he couldn’t reach you like this. Somewhere, somehow, Azriel realized that there was nothing more important than you. You with wings, you without them—that meant nothing. To you, it meant everything, and that was the entire reason you had come here. For revenge, for peace—Azriel would get that for you. 

And he would save you again. 

He had to. 

He had to. 

Azriel shot his head back, his crown meeting the nose of one of the attackers. Rhysand had said to save one for questioning, but Azriel wasn’t thinking about questions. Azriel wasn’t thinking about anything, his mind buzzing with hazy rage that watched you fall over and over and over again.

He brought his hands up when surprise rendered the Illryrians weak, smashing into the side of one of their heads. Azriel couldn’t remember the rest, but when the shackles fell from his arms, his chest heaving and blood staining his fingers, his shadows moved first. They collected and hurled themselves over the side of the cliff only seconds before Azriel followed. 

That had to mean something, Azriel thought. 

It had to mean something.