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dollgxtz · 10 days ago

Text

A Dragon's Claim

Word Count: 10.9k

Tags: dragon!sylus x fem!reader, smut, cunnilingus, breeding, creampies, biting, slight injury, some bleeding, primal kink, courting rituals, mating rituals, sylus has two cocks :333

Summary: Sylus begins to act strange and you think he may have caught some sort of illness. He's strangely warm, irritable and eating more. However this "illness" turns out to be more intense than you could have ever imagined... (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ )

"You're wrong," he murmurs, voice husky and edged with something raw. "You’re fertile. I can smell it on you." You freeze. His lips ghost just beneath your ear as he continues, tone smooth and reverent. "Your scent is different now—sweet, ripe, like fruit at the peak of bloom. The warmth of your skin, the rhythm of your pulse...your body sings to mine in ways you cannot hear. But I do." His hand tightens at your waist, possessive, anchoring you to him like you might drift away otherwise. The heat in his eyes is no longer just desire—it is intention, it is instinct honed over centuries, it is him answering a call your body didn’t even know it had made. "You're ready. Now," he growls, the final word laced with a quiet sort of reverence, as if he were speaking a truth ordained by something far older than either of you.

AN: Okay so, this fic was SO fun to write I may have gotten a little carried away hehe. This was a little bit out of my comfort zone but I am so happy with it!! Plus it was about time I did a oneshot for dragon!sylus. After what he went through he deserves as many babies as he wants ;(

Enjoy!!

Sylus had been unusually irritable lately, and it wasn’t just in the way he grunted or snapped when spoken to—it was in everything. His eyes seemed sharper, flicking around like he was constantly on edge, and his tail, which normally lay relaxed behind him, had developed a twitchy, agitated flick. He wasn’t acting like the level-headed fiend you’d come to know and love.

Even he seemed aware of the shift; there were moments he paused mid-sentence or mid-motion, as if catching himself acting out of character. When he returned to the cave after hunting, he couldn’t seem to keep still. He paced the stone floor in restless circles, ran his claws along the wall, muttered to himself under his breath. His whole body seemed to vibrate with pent-up energy, with something unspoken roiling beneath the surface.

His appetite had doubled, maybe even tripled. He devoured whatever meat, vegetables, or fruit he managed to scavenge or hunt for the both of you, sometimes not even bothering to sit down before tearing into it. He would eat so quickly it was like he hadn’t tasted food in days, and when he was done, he still looked unsatisfied. It was primal, instinctive, like something inside him was demanding more than he could give it.

And then there was the heat.

He’d started to feel noticeably warm to the touch, which was strange for a reptile. The first time you noticed it was when he brushed past you, and you flinched, startled by the heat radiating off his skin. Since then, it had only intensified. Whenever he hugged you, lingered too close, or let his fingers graze your arm, you felt it—his body running hot, almost feverish. It was unnerving. And his touches had changed too. They weren’t violent, but they carried a kind of hunger, an urgency that hadn’t been there before. He gripped a little tighter, held on a little longer. Like proximity alone wasn’t enough to settle whatever storm was brewing inside him.

It worried you terribly. Was he getting sick? Could dragons even get sick? The question gnawed at your thoughts, carving out little pits of anxiety in your chest no matter how often you tried to push it away. The heat that seemed to bleed from his skin, the sharp glint in his eyes that hadn’t been there before, the unpredictable mood swings and restlessness...it all felt off. Like something inside him had shifted, and you didn’t know if it was something natural or something dangerous. You'd never seen him like this. He wasn’t just irritable, he was volatile. Every movement held tension, like he was wound too tightly and one wrong word might snap him in two.

You knew better than to voice your concerns aloud. Suggesting he try any kind of human treatment would go over about as well as trying to leash a wildfire. He’d scoff, roll his eyes, and brush you off with a dismissive sigh. Sylus was proud, fiercely so. Stubborn as a stone wall, and not exactly someone who tolerated being fussed over. An illness? He'd laugh at the implication.

Still, you couldn’t just sit back and watch him burn from the inside out.

So the next time he finally dozed off—after hours of pacing, mumbling under his breath, and tossing scraps into the fire like they’d wronged him personally—you waited until his breathing evened out and his face slackened. He lay sprawled out on the nest of furs you’d both piled near the hearth, the orange firelight casting shadows across his angular features. One arm was thrown loosely over his chest, the other curled slightly beside him. His chest rose and fell in a rhythm that looked almost peaceful. Almost.

You moved with painstaking care, the cool, damp cloth in your hand trembling slightly from how tightly you gripped it. Your feet barely made a sound against the stone floor as you approached, every step deliberate. When you reached his side, you crouched slowly, heart hammering so loudly you were sure it might wake him before you even got the chance to touch him. You leaned in, gently pressing the rag to his brow, hoping the cold would cut through the heat pouring off of him like he was lit from within.

For a brief moment, you felt relief. He didn’t stir. Maybe, just maybe, he would sleep through this.

But then something shifted.

Without warning, a firm pressure clamped around your wrist. You gasped, flinching, and the rag slipped from your fingers. Your gaze dropped, heart stalling in your chest, as you realized his tail had slithered around your arm in one smooth, silent motion. Like it had a mind of its own.

His eyes snapped open a second later, glowing faintly in the dim light, red pupils slitted and sharp. He looked at you without blinking, like he’d known what you were sneaking up on him the entire time.

"And what exactly do you think you're doing?" he murmured, voice husky with sleep and something else—something darker. There was a flicker of amusement there, curling at the corners of his lips, but beneath it was something far more intense. Possessive. Primal. Like he wasn’t just waking up, but awakening to something deeper.

You swallowed hard, mouth suddenly dry. Your heart thundered against your ribs like it wanted to escape.

You opened your mouth to answer, but the words caught in your throat, stuck somewhere between nervousness, concern and something you couldn’t name.

"I'm helping you, silly. You're sick," you mumble, voice soft but threaded with a note of stubborn concern. Your lips purse, irritation flickering across your features as you glance down at the thick coil of his tail still looped possessively around your wrist. "Now let go of me," you add, trying to sound firm despite the tremor in your voice.

To your surprise, he does. The tension releases almost instantly, the pressure around your wrist vanishing as his tail retreats. You exhale a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, rubbing at your skin where the warmth lingered.

"I am not unwell," he says after a pause, voice rich and steady, threaded with an unmistakable certainty. "Only mortals burn with fever."

You frown, eyebrows drawing together in quiet frustration. "Yeah, but... you've been acting really strange lately," you reply, your voice lowering, touched now with genuine worry. "You’re restless, snappy, and you never eat this much. I just...I want to make sure you’re okay. That you’re not hurting."

The confession slips out before you can think better of it. You stare at him for a moment longer, searching his unreadable expression for some crack, some tell that might confirm or deny what your instincts have been screaming.

And then you move, slow and tentative, inching closer to him as if drawn by an invisible force. When you rest your head lightly against his chest, you feel the heat radiating off him in waves, hotter now than it had been earlier. His body is solid beneath you, unmoving, as if he’s forgotten how to breathe. The sound of his heartbeat thuds against your ear, rapid and deep, like a distant drum.

You think, for a moment, that he might relax.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, his entire frame stiffens. There’s a flash of tension through his shoulders, and then his tail moves again—but not with the idle instinct of before. It wraps around your waist in a slow, deliberate spiral, the grip firm but not cruel. He lifts you effortlessly, his strength startling in its subtlety, and then plants you down several feet away from him.

You blink, stunned, arms still half outstretched in the air where you had been.

The new distance between you is not just physical. It feels like a chasm, sudden and inexplicable, heavy with all the things he won’t say. You sit in silence for a heartbeat too long, the echo of his rejection ringing in your chest like a hollow bell.

He avoids your gaze, eyes cast to the fire, jaw clenched tightly.

"Hey! You can't ju—" you begin, voice raised in disbelief, frustration bubbling over—but the look he gives you stops you dead in your tracks. It's not angry or loud, but it carries a quiet authority that slices through the air like a blade. His eyes flash with a warning, cold and unreadable.

"Silence, love. Sleep on the other side of the cave tonight," he says, each word deliberate, clipped. There is no room for negotiation in his tone. It’s final. Commanding. His eyes close again, as if your protest doesn’t deserve his attention. Like the matter is already settled in his mind.

The dismissal stings more than you expect.

It hits like a slap, raw and disorienting. You reel back a step, mouth parting slightly as you try to process the flood of emotion that crashes down on you all at once. Hurt. Confusion. Anger. They churn in your chest, thick and suffocating. What the hell? All you had done was try to help. You had stayed up, watched over him, worried yourself sick, and this was how he repaid you? By pushing you away like a child being told to go to their room?

Ugh. Stubborn. Always so impossibly, frustratingly stubborn.

Your jaw tightens as the ache behind your eyes starts to burn. He didn’t get to do this. Not after everything. If he thought you were just going to walk away, tuck yourself into the far corner of the cave like a scolded pet and let him suffer in silence, he clearly didn’t know you as well as he should.

Because humans don’t give up on the ones they love.

"Sylus!" you bark, louder this time, anger sharpening your voice. You stomp across the stone floor toward him, every step punctuated by the slap of your feet and the pounding of your heart. "You know I’m not doing that! I’m not going to just curl up in the corner like you didn’t just say that to me!"

He says nothing, but you can see his jaw twitch. That slow, deliberate breath leaves his nostrils again—heavy, controlled. Tired. Still, he doesn’t open his eyes. Doesn’t look at you. It’s like he's deliberately trying to sever whatever invisible thread connects the two of you.

You press your palms into your thighs, trying to ground yourself, fighting the overwhelming desire to scream. "What is wrong with you? Just talk to me! Look at me! Say anything!"

But all you receive is silence. Stubborn, infuriating silence.

Your fists tighten at your sides. The cold cavern air suddenly feels stifling.

Fine. You could be stubborn too.

Without thinking, you finish crossing the cave, heart pounding loud enough to drown out your better judgment. Every step echoes with stubborn purpose as you close the gap he created between you. You don't hesitate. You don’t ask. You simply act—climbing over him, swinging a leg across his large body, and settling yourself squarely atop his waist. The furs beneath you shift and rustle, but he doesn’t stop you. His brow furrows slightly, the only sign he even notices, but otherwise, he remains infuriatingly still.

Still silent. Still distant.

You lean down slowly, hands braced on either side of his torso, and fix your gaze on his face, searching for some flicker of emotion—anything to tell you he’s still there beneath the silence. The heat rolling off of him is overwhelming up close, like standing too near a smoldering hearth. It curls around you, prickling your skin, quickening your breath. The air feels thick, heavy with unspoken things.

"Sylus..." you murmur, your voice low, raw with feeling.

No response.

"Sylus! I know you can hear me!" you bark, sharper now, frustration rising with each second he continues to ignore you. Your heart twists painfully.

Still nothing.

You sigh, the sound long and defeated, your chest aching with the weight of his silence. Carefully, gently, you lower your forehead to his, hoping maybe the closeness will shake something loose. His skin burns beneath yours, unnaturally warm.

"I just want to know what’s wrong with you," you whisper, voice so quiet it nearly disappears in the cavern's stillness. "Guess your species are terrible communicators."

Still, he doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t open his eyes. But you feel it—something in him coiling tight, like a rope being pulled taut. He may be still, but he’s not unaffected. Something inside him is shifting, stirred by your proximity, your touch.

Acting on instinct and desperation, you close the small distance between your mouths and press a kiss to his lips. It’s meant to be fleeting, a soft reassurance. But it lingers. Longer than it should. Your lips stay, pressed gently to his, drawn in by the heat, the subtle shape of his mouth, the restraint that pulses beneath his immobility. Your eyes slip closed as your hands move—one cupping the side of his jaw, the other resting on his chest, feeling the erratic beat of his heart.

Then you feel it. A breath. Deeper. Shakier. His chest rises and falls faster.

And in a blink, the world flips.

One moment you’re above him, tethered by warmth and hope—the next, you’re on your back, the furs catching your fall as a gasp escapes you. "Ah!" The air leaves your lungs in a rush. Your eyes fly open to find him hovering above you, strong arms braced on either side of your head. His large body cages yours in completely, heat surrounding you like a second skin.

His eyes are open now. And they are glowing.

There is something feral in his expression—not cruel, but ancient and wild and hungry. His gaze drags across your face with a depth that makes your breath hitch. Every inch of him is tense, restrained, as if holding back something that wants very badly to be unleashed.

He still hasn’t spoken.

But he is no longer ignoring you.

"You're making it very difficult to control myself, love," he growls, his voice like gravel softened by heat, thick with restraint and something darker coiled beneath it. The words roll over your skin just moments before his lips do. His breath fans against your neck—a warning, a promise—before he dips his head, and you feel the sharp, precise puncture of his teeth sinking into your skin.

This isn’t a playful nip. This isn’t a teasing show of dominance. His bite breaks the surface, deliberate and deep. You feel the sharp pain bloom instantly, a white-hot flash that steals the breath from your lungs. A gasp escapes you—startled, raw—and your hands fly up to clutch at his shoulders. Your fingers dig into him as your back arches against the sensation. Warm blood trickles down your shoulder, and your skin tingles where it flows.

You weren’t unfamiliar with Sylus's biting. He'd always had a possessive streak that came through when things turned intimate or emotional. But this—this felt different. It felt desperate. Like he was trying to root himself in you. Like something inside him was slipping, and you were the only thing keeping him from losing his grip.

His mouth lingers at your neck, his lips now parted just slightly. You feel the tremor in his breath before his tongue slips out and glides across the bite. Slow. Deliberate. He licks away the blood he’d drawn, and the pain dulls under the hot, wet press of his mouth. In its place comes a deep, spiraling heat that blooms low in your belly, tightening your grip on him.

"S-Sylus..." you breathe, barely able to form the words. Your voice trembles. "If you were just...er, in need—you know I would've helped you ages ago."

Still, he doesn’t answer.

You feel the way his body stiffens slightly against you. His hand slides up along your side, slow and controlled, as though he’s still deciding what to do with the storm inside him. Then, he leans in again and presses his lips gently to your neck, just beside the wound. This time, the touch is less claiming and more conflicted—like he's trying to soothe something in himself rather than stake another claim.

He stays there for a long moment, breathing in the scent of your skin, your blood, your closeness. You feel the tremble in his chest where it presses against yours, the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers twitch as though resisting the urge to hold you tighter. The cavern feels impossibly still around you, as if the very walls are holding their breath.

At last, he lifts his head. His eyes meet yours, and for the first time tonight, he looks completely unguarded. They glow faintly, with a trace of something wild, but it’s the emotion in them that catches your breath—raw, aching, afraid.

"It's more than that," he says, his voice rough and frayed at the edges. Not defensive. Not ashamed. Just...honest. Like every word costs him more than he knows how to show.

You stare at him, heart hammering, throat tightening.

Oh no. It's bad news, isn't it?

The thought slams into you with the force of a crashing wave, stealing the air from your lungs. You blink rapidly, trying to keep your vision clear, but the sting in your eyes wins. Tears begin to well, hot and fast, blurring the edges of your world as your chest tightens with dread. Something in his voice, in the way he looked at you—it had to mean something terrible. Something irreversible.

"What is it? Please tell me you're okay!" you blurt out, your voice cracking and shaking as panic rises up your throat. Your hands cling tighter to him, desperate and trembling, fingers curling into the fabric of whatever covers his back. As if somehow, your grip could keep him from slipping away. As if love alone could hold back whatever awful truth he was about to reveal.

Sylus blinks, visibly startled by your sudden burst of emotion. The intensity in your voice clearly catches him off guard. His eyes, once glowing with wild tension, soften slightly. His expression shifts—no longer hard and guarded, but touched with a flicker of something else. Something gentler.

Wordlessly, he draws you closer. His arms wrap around you more securely, with purpose now. Not to restrain, but to reassure. His hands press to your back, his warmth enveloping you like a cocoon. His voice, when he finally speaks, is low and deliberate. A slow drag of velvet.

"No need to fret," he murmurs. "All is well."

You pull back just enough to look up at him, eyes wide, your breath caught halfway in your lungs. Your heart pounds in your ears. There’s a moment of suspended silence where you brace yourself for the real answer.

"It's just mating season."

You freeze. Your body goes still, and your mind... blanks.

Of all the explanations you had been preparing for—a curse, an ancient affliction, some kind of irreversible breakdown of his control—that had not even crossed your mind.

Mating season?

You blink once. Twice. And then the realization crashes over you, dragging with it a rush of relief and a sudden, absurd clarity. The heat, the irritability, the pacing, the biting, the overwhelming hunger—both physical and something deeper. It all made sense now. It fit together like puzzle pieces you hadn’t realized you were holding.

You let out a breathless huff, lips parting as the tension begins to unravel inside you.

And then you laugh.

A full, startled, ridiculous laugh bubbles up from your chest and bursts free before you can stop it. It catches you completely off guard, but you can’t hold it in. The absurdity of it all—the sheer contrast between what you imagined and what it actually was—breaks something loose in you.

You double over slightly, pressing your forehead into his collarbone as your shoulders shake with the sound. It’s laughter born of relief, disbelief, and the strange, heady rush of realizing everything isn’t falling apart.

Sylus stares down at you in silence, his eyes narrowing slightly. Clearly, he doesn’t find your reaction particularly amusing. If anything, his expression deepens into a look of resigned irritation, as if this wasn’t quite the response he expected.

But still, he doesn’t pull away. His arms stay around you, anchoring you to him, the heat of his body steady and real. His tail curls lightly around your leg, a quiet, instinctive motion. Protective. Possessive.

And despite the glare he levels at the top of your head, there’s no real venom behind it. He lets you laugh, lets you melt the fear from your chest with every shaky breath, until your voice begins to soften again.

Eventually, you lift your head, wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand.

"Is something humorous?" he asks, his voice low, edged with a faint note of offense, though there is no true malice behind it. His eyes narrow slightly as they study your face, as though trying to decipher the cause of your sudden laughter. But even in his quiet suspicion, his arms never loosen their hold around you. If anything, he draws you closer.

You shake your head quickly, the laughter dying in your throat as a rush of guilt creeps in. "Honestly, you had me scared" you say, your voice softening, breaking slightly at the end. "I really thought you were going to die on me."

That doesn't seem to ease him. He exhales through his nose in a deep, low grunt—not dismissive, but something closer to acknowledgment. The sound vibrates against your body, a warm, strange comfort. Then, with a fluid, instinctive movement, he adjusts your positions. His strength is effortless as he shifts, guiding you until you're lying beside him on the furs, your body drawn into his larger frame like a puzzle piece clicking into place.

His arm curls around your waist, securing you against his chest. It isn’t just for comfort—there is something possessive in the gesture, protective, as if he’s anchoring you there by will alone. The heat of him envelops you entirely, bleeding into your limbs until the cold stone floor feels like a distant memory.

"Does this mean..." you begin, your voice barely more than a whisper. But the thought drifts before it finishes, scattered like leaves on the wind. You have so many questions tumbling through your mind: What does this mean for him? For you? Is this temporary? Instinct? A sign of something deeper? But they all blur at the edges, softening under the pull of exhaustion.

Your body is finally registering the toll of the night. You had stayed up far too late, keeping vigil while Sylus paced, brooded, fought himself in silence. You hadn't let yourself rest until he did. Now, the weight of sleeplessness pulls at your limbs like gravity, and your eyelids feel impossibly heavy.

Outside, the first blush of morning glows gently. Sunlight begins to pour through the narrow cracks in the rock that serves as the cave’s natural door. The pale beams stretch across the stone floor like golden fingers, warming the air with soft radiance. The quiet sounds of the wilderness beyond stir faintly, muted by distance—birds beginning their morning calls, wind rustling through high branches.

Sylus doesn’t answer your unfinished thought. He merely presses closer, lowering his head to the crook of your neck. His breath fans across your skin in slow, even waves, and the low, rhythmic sound that rumbles from his chest is unmistakable. A purr. Deep and velvety. Content.

The sound settles into your bones, a vibration that eases the tightness from your shoulders and lulls the last frayed edges of fear from your heart. There is something incredibly grounding about it—like being cradled by the earth itself. One of his hands rests on your waist, fingers spread, as if silently promising that you are safe, that he will not let go.

You close your eyes, breathing in the scent of smoke and warmth and him. Despite the adrenaline, despite the questions that remain unanswered, your body begins to let go. Your thoughts drift. His purring fills the quiet like a lullaby spun from heat and breath and unspoken devotion.

Sleep takes you gently.

And you surrender to it, wrapped in Sylus’s arms, as the light of a new day filters through stone and silence alike.

As the days passed, you began to notice other, more subtle changes in Sylus's behavior—the kind of shifts that spoke not just of mood, but of instinct, of ritual. Of purpose.

It started gradually. At first, it was the gifts. Sylus had always brought you little trinkets here and there—a gleaming stone from a riverbed, a silver ring once forgotten in the ruins of some fallen estate, or a flower pressed flat and preserved between scraps of parchment. But now? Now he returned from his ventures with arms full of treasure.

You began to receive things that looked as though they had been pulled from the vaults of kings. Gemstones the size of your knuckles. Necklaces heavy with gold and set with fire-bright opals. Crowns, actual crowns, one with a missing jewel that he promised to "replace shortly." Delicate filigree bracelets and earrings of such craftsmanship that you wondered if they had come from the hands of mortals at all.

You accepted them, of course. How could you not? They dazzled the eye and stirred something deep within your chest—awe, gratitude, wonder. And then there was the way Sylus looked at you when you accepted each piece. The way he watched your reactions with quiet intensity, hunger and satisfaction warring in his gaze as your fingers traced the contours of every offered treasure.

"Is this suitable to your liking, beloved?" he would ask, voice a rich hum in your ear. There was always a thread of tension in his tone, a need that ran deeper than pride.

You’d smile and nod, sometimes laughing softly at the extravagance, sometimes whispering thanks as you leaned into his warmth. That always seemed to satisfy him. His shoulders would relax, his tail would curl in closer around you, and a low purr would rumble from deep in his chest.

And the gifts didn’t stop with jewels and gold.

His hunting habits changed too. Where once he had returned with modest catches—a brace of rabbits, a string of fish, the occasional deer—now he came back with trophies that left you reeling. Massive elk, towering wild boars with tusks the length of your forearm. Game that would feed you both for weeks. And then, one evening, he returned dragging behind him the largest bear you had ever seen.

Its massive body sprawled across the cave entrance like something out of legend. Thick fur matted with snow and blood, claws that could gouge stone. You stood frozen in the firelight, staring at it, unsure whether to marvel or panic.

Sylus merely stood beside it, chin slightly raised, one clawed hand resting on its flank like a proud hunter presenting a trophy.

"For you," he said simply, as if it were nothing.

You had blinked at him, stunned. "Sylus, I...I don’t even know how to cook that."

He grinned, utterly unbothered. "Then I will learn."

The gifts. The feasts. The constant nearness. The careful watching of your every reaction. You had thought it was simply Sylus being more open, more affectionate in the wake of your recent closeness.

You were trying not to overthink it. Truly, you were. Every part of you wanted to believe that all the changes were just instinct, affection taken to a slightly obsessive level. You’d chalked up the treasure hoarding, the feasts, the increased proximity, the way he hovered just a little too closely sometimes—all of it to simple fondness. Maybe even a primal form of love. But nothing could have prepared you for what awaited you after returning from a brisk walk one particularly chilly afternoon.

The moment you stepped through the threshold of the cave, you froze in place, heart lurching with confusion.

Sylus had completely transformed everything.

Gone were the scattered, mismatched piles of pelts, the half-organized piles of gold, the signs of his usual indifference to comfort or aesthetic. In their place was something deliberate. Thoughtful. Nest-like. The entire back of the cave had been cleared and restructured, centered around an enormous bed of furs that had been meticulously arranged. It looked almost ceremonial in its care.

The old sleeping area had been expanded, padded with thick layers of fur and hide—including the bear pelt from the beast he had dragged home days ago. It now lined the center of the nest, skinned, cleaned and softened into a thick, luxurious base. Softer animal hides had been layered on top, and the perimeter was reinforced with woven branches, dried moss, and feathers, creating a barrier of warmth and comfort.

It wasn’t just for practicality. It was beautiful.

There were little details everywhere. Smooth stones from your favorite riverbank placed in a pattern near the fire pit. Bits of dried herbs—the ones you loved for tea or the scent they gave when burned—tucked into the seams of the bedding. A string of beads you thought you’d lost was now nestled between two thick furs, as if it had been intentionally displayed.

You stood there for several seconds, mouth slightly open, completely unprepared.

"Sylus..." you breathed, your voice caught somewhere between awe and bewilderment. "What’s the meaning of all this?"

He looked up at you from where he knelt, smoothing out the bear fur with surprising tenderness. His expression was completely unreadable. Calm. Focused. As if this were the most natural thing in the world. "You were shivering at night," he said simply. "This will keep you warmer."

That might have been enough for anyone else. Practical. Logical. An easy excuse.

But his eyes told a different story.

He watched you too closely. Not just to gauge your reaction—but to savor it. There was something ancient and yearning behind the glow in his eyes, something that vibrated in the silence between his words. He was waiting. Not for your thanks, but for your approval.

Noticing your lack of response, Sylus's expression begins to shift. The warmth in his eyes dims, replaced by something sterner, more guarded. His tail flicks once behind him—a sharp, agitated motion that echoes his growing unease. He straightens his spine, his jaw tightening ever so slightly.

"Do you not like it?" he asks, his voice quieter now but unmistakably tense. There’s something beneath his words that makes your chest tighten—disappointment, certainly. But also something rawer. Doubt. Hurt. The faint tremor of vulnerability from someone unaccustomed to feeling exposed.

Your eyes widen, and guilt rises quickly in your throat. You hadn't meant to be silent for so long. You were simply overwhelmed—by the effort, by the meaning behind it all. But now, seeing the shift in his posture, the way his eyes avoid yours, you realize how that silence must have come off.

You quickly close the space between you, reaching out instinctively. Your hands lift to cradle his face, palms warm against his heated skin. You guide his gaze back to you, gently but insistently, your thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. His eyes flicker up to meet yours, searching your face as though still bracing for rejection.

"No," you say softly, firmly, your voice thick with emotion. "I love it. I really do. It's beautiful. I just...I don’t understand why. You don’t have to do all this. The gifts, the meat, the rearranging—I was already happy. I was perfectly content with how things were before."

Sylus doesn’t recoil. Instead, he leans into your touch just slightly, as though the reassurance eases something deep in his chest. The tightness in his shoulders begins to uncoil, and the tension etched into his brow softens. A quiet exhale escapes him, almost inaudible.

"You laughed," he murmurs after a moment, his voice roughened by something too ancient to be called simple sorrow. "When I spoke of mating season. I assumed then that you deemed me unworthy as a mate—ill-fitted to claim or keep one such as you."

You blink, taken aback. The memory of that moment resurfaces—your burst of laughter, the disbelief, the release of tension you hadn’t realized he was carrying so heavily. It hadn’t been mockery. But now, you see how it must have been received by someone like Sylus—a creature whose understanding of humor, especially human levity in the face of instinct, is limited by centuries of solemn tradition and a worldview where gestures hold more meaning than words.

"So...the jewels? The meat?" you ask gently, your voice cracking slightly as realization begins to sink in.

He lets out a low, almost frustrated huff, glancing to the side. His tail curls around one of your ankles without thought, anchoring you to him in a quiet, possessive motion. "To prove I can provide for you," he says simply. "And for our offspring that I hoped you'd bear."

The words hit you like a wave, your breath catching in your throat. Your heart swells and shatters at once, a knot forming deep in your chest. He really wanted a baby with you? To form new life? With you??

Because that was it, wasn’t it? This powerful, ancient creature—so feared, so composed, so unreadable to others—was doing everything in his power to show you his worth. Not by demanding your affection or asserting his claim, but by showing you how he could build a life around you. Make a place for you. Prepare for a future, one you hadn’t even considered yet.

He had rearranged his entire world to make space for you in it. Courted you to prove himself just as many of his species had done with their mates.

You looked at him now with new eyes, your throat tightening as you caressed the edge of his jaw.

"Sylus...you don’t have to prove anything to me. I never doubted your strength. I never doubted you for a single second. Sometimes humans laugh when we feel relieved. That's all."

You notice that he seemed to perk up ever so slightly, though his expression remained unreadable. His posture straightened by a fraction, the glow in his eyes shifting with something new—not quite relief, but intrigue. A subtle ripple of tension unwound in his shoulders, though he tried to mask it.

"Mortals laugh when they feel better?" he asked, voice low and gravelly, as if the question itself was unfamiliar. There was a curious tilt to his head, the tone almost scholarly—as if he were cataloging your species' behaviors like one would study a rare flame.

You nodded, giving him a gentle smile. "Yes. Laughter is...a release. I wasn’t mocking you, Sylus. I was relieved. It meant you weren’t dying. And...I think you would make a wonderful mate. And father. To our baby."

His grip on you suddenly shifted, tightening with sudden purpose. Not in a threatening way, but in a way that grounded you firmly against him—possessive, almost reverent. His pupils expanded rapidly, red irises eclipsed by black. A primal heat surged behind his gaze, burning steady and intent. You felt the growl in his chest before it even reached his lips, a low, rumbling vibration that poured through your body like a tremor.

"Then...you accept?" he asked slowly, the words thick with restrained emotion. "You will take my seed into you? You would bear my offspring?"

Your heart skipped a beat—no, several. Blood rushed to your cheeks, and you could feel your pulse hammering in your throat. He said it with such conviction, with none of the coy hesitations or evasive phrasing you were used to. Just truth. Raw and full of meaning. The ancient kind of promise that didn’t ask, but waited.

You hesitated, swallowing hard. "I mean...I do have my doubts," you admitted, fingers curling against his chest. Your fingers graze the edge of his scales. Your voice trembled slightly under the weight of his gaze. "I don’t think I’m strong enough to carry children of yours. Dragons are...different. Your children, they’d be massive, wouldn’t they?"

You tried to laugh. It came out tight, nervous. A shaky sound that barely carried.

But Sylus didn’t laugh. He didn’t smile. Instead, something deeper flickered behind his eyes—a hunger, yes, but also certainty. Purpose. Legacy.

A low, pleased growl rolled from the depths of his chest, his breath warm against your skin. You gasped as you felt his tail move, the strong, silken muscle winding slowly up your leg. It caressed your skin with practiced control, the movement deliberate. Purposeful. The hem of your dress lifted inch by inch under the teasing weight of his tail.

"Nonsense," he growled, and this time his voice was like smoke and stone. "You are more than capable. I would never choose a mate who was not capable of the task. Your body, your spirit, your frame—they are all sufficient. More than sufficient."

His claws ghosted over your hips, drawing you in closer, like a hunter gathering something sacred. You felt the heat of him, not just his body but his intent, his longing, the centuries of instinct that pulsed just beneath his skin.

"I'm not even sure if it will work..." you murmur, your voice laced with uncertainty. "Humans only ovulate for a short time. If that window's already passed—"

Sylus moves before you can finish. His body leans into yours with quiet purpose, and in an instant, the air shifts between you. His breath ghosts over your neck, warm and steady, and you shiver as his nose traces the delicate line of your throat. The movement is slow, deliberate—not just intimate, but instinctual. He inhales deeply, the sound low and resonant like something ancient stirring in his chest. The rumble that follows isn’t quite a growl, but it thrums through you like thunder beneath the earth.

"You're wrong," he murmurs, voice husky and edged with something raw. "You’re fertile. I can smell it on you."

You freeze.

His lips ghost just beneath your ear as he continues, tone smooth and reverent. "Your scent is different now—sweet, ripe, like fruit at the peak of bloom. The warmth of your skin, the rhythm of your pulse...your body sings to mine in ways you cannot hear. But I do."

His hand tightens at your waist, possessive, anchoring you to him like you might drift away otherwise. The heat in his eyes is no longer just desire—it is intention, it is instinct honed over centuries, it is him answering a call your body didn’t even know it had made.

"You're ready. Now," he growls, the final word laced with a quiet sort of reverence, as if he were speaking a truth ordained by something far older than either of you.

Your breath catches, your face flushing as your heart pounds against your ribs. You can feel the heat rising in you, pooling low, your body reacting before your mind can catch up.

You search his face for doubt, but find none. Only certainty.

So, you were ovulating, and he could smell it—and worse, he wasn’t just aroused by it; he was called by it.

You feel your nerves ease, if only a little. Sylus was dependable—fierce, steady, and impossibly sure in the way only something ancient could be. For all his intensity, he had never once let harm come to you, had never faltered in his protection. And now, with the weight of everything shifting between you, that truth brought the smallest measure of calm. If he said he would keep you safe, you believed him. If he said he would protect the life growing between you, you knew it to be a vow etched in something deeper than words.

The idea of having a baby had once seemed distant, more fantasy than reality. Something soft and quiet that belonged to another version of your life, another world entirely. But now? Now it felt inevitable. Natural. Fated. Like every step had led to this moment, and all that was left was to lean into it.

He wanted this with you. You could see it in everything he did: the nesting, the offerings, the way he curled around you at night like a guardian warding off the dark. His every action had been leading here, even if you hadn’t recognized it at the time. And though nerves still fluttered in your chest like a thousand wings, the deeper truth remained. You wanted it too. You weren’t entirely prepared, not yet, but you were ready to say yes.

You looked into his eyes, your heart thundering, and gave a small but certain nod. "Okay. I accept."

Those three words changed everything.

It was as if a switch had been flipped inside him, something primal and powerful released from its cage. You barely had time to react before he swept you off the ground with effortless strength. You gasped, your hands clutching at his shoulders as he cradled you against his chest, his expression focused, almost reverent. In mere seconds, he had crossed the room and laid you gently down on the massive bed of furs he had so meticulously prepared—his gift to you, his offering.

The nest was impossibly warm, soft and inviting, wrapping around your back and shoulders like it had been waiting for this moment. You could feel the heat of his body above you, the power in his frame held taut just beneath the surface. He hovered for a breath, eyes raking over you, and then his tail moved—snaking up one leg, coiling slowly with deliberate grace.

The fabric of your dress tightened as his tail looped beneath it, and you barely had time to gasp before you heard the slow, purposeful sound of it tearing. With practiced precision, his tail shredded the fabric, beginning to peel it away from your body with a hunger that had been restrained for too long. Each thread undone was like a silent declaration: mine, mine, mine.

You felt a rush of cool air against your skin, and your breasts were exposed to his gaze. You could sense his eyes on you, drinking in the sight of your bare skin and hardened nipples, you felt a shiver run down your spine. Your breasts bounced slightly as you shifted, and you could feel his gaze following the movement, his eyes hungrily taking in every detail.

You instinctively tried to shield yourself, your arms moving to cross your chest, but he was quicker. His tail wrapped around your wrists with gentle but unyielding strength, keeping you exposed beneath him. Vulnerable. Claimed.

He leaned in closer, breath hot against your skin, and you felt it hitch as he studied you like something sacred. There was a deep rumble in his chest, not quite a growl but something more ancient—a sound of possession and awe.

"This will not be gentle," he murmured, voice low and rough like gravel smoothed by fire. "But do not fret. I will take care not to hurt you, beloved."

His words settled over you like a brand, searing into your skin. There was something sacred in them, a promise forged not in softness, but in strength—and devotion.

And the way he said it, with such conviction and tempered need, made your breath stutter and your fear crumble, replaced with something far more powerful:

Desire. Acceptance. Surrender.

His voice was a low rumble, "I want to see you. All of you." His eyes met yours, seeking consent, respectful despite the fierce hunger within. You nodded, your heart still pounding, but the fear was gone, replaced by a strong lust you didn't know you had.

He reached for the remnants of your dress, his touch gentle yet firm as he pushed the rest of the fabric off you. It slipped down your body, leaving you bare except for your undergarments. His breath hitched, his gaze roaming over you, worshipful and hungry.

"You're beautiful" he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "Like a dream I never dared to have." He leaned down, his lips met yours, a soft, tender kiss that belied the intensity of his gaze. It was a question, a request for permission to explore further. You responded, your body melting into his, your lips parting to deepen the kiss. He tasted of smoke and spice, a heady combination that made your head spin. His claws, those large, warm claws, traced the curve of your neck, your shoulders, your breasts, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

You gasped, breaking the kiss, your body arching into his touch. He smiled, a slow, predatory smile that sent shivers down your spine. "I want to hear you," he whispered, his breath hot on your ear. "I want to hear every sound you make, every gasp, every moan." He captured your mouth again, his tongue delving in, exploring, tasting. His hands continued their journey, tracing the curve of your waist, your hips, the soft flesh of your thighs. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your undergarments, pulling back to look at you.

He slid the underwear down your legs, his eyes never leaving yours. You felt a shiver of anticipation and vulnerability, but the heat in his gaze, the raw desire, kept you from feeling exposed again. He stood up, his tail unwrapping from your waist, and you missed the contact instantly. But he was back in a moment, his hands on your knees, gently pushing them apart.

He knelt down, his gaze still locked with yours, and you felt a jolt of surprise and excitement. His rough claws traced up your inner thighs, his touch feather-light, sending shivers through you. You could feel the heat of his breath on you, and you squirmed, your body aching with anticipation. He smiled, a slow, knowing smile, and leaned in.

His long tongue found your aching bud, hot and wet, and you gasped, your body arching off the pile of furs. He made a sound, a low growl of pleasure, and the vibration sent waves of sensation through you. He gripped your thighs, holding you in place as he explored you, his tongue and lips driving you to the edge. You could feel the pressure building, your body coiling tight, and you grasped the furs beneath you, your knuckles turning paler.

"Thank you for agreeing to give me the gift of new life" His gaze held you captive, even as his tongue continued its torturous, delightful dance. You felt a flush spread across your body, your cheeks burning with a mix of embarrassment and arousal.

But you didn't look away. You held his gaze, your breath coming in ragged gasps, your body writhing with each flick of his tongue. He groaned, the sound vibrating through you, pushing you closer to the edge. You could feel it, the pleasure building, coiling tight like a spring ready to snap. "Sylus," you gasped, his name a plea on your lips.

He growled in response, his fingers digging into your thighs as he redoubled his efforts. The room spun, the golden light blurring around you. Your body tensed, every muscle coiled tight, and then, with a cry, you shattered. Waves of pleasure crashed over you, drowning you in sensation. You felt Sylus's claws on you, steadying you, his tail wrapping around you, holding you close as you rode out the storm. When the world came back into focus, you found yourself cradled in Sylus arms, your body still trembling with aftershocks. He was looking down at you, his eyes soft with concern and something else...a deep, profound satisfaction.

As you finally noticed the absence of his usual belt, your eyes widened in shock. There, at you waist, were not one, but two substantially sized cocks, side by side, both throbbing with desire. You could've sworn he only had one before?? A wave of heat rushed to your face, and you felt a surge of panic. You tried to wriggle free, to create some distance, but Sylus's grip only tightened. He growled, a low, primal sound that sent shivers down your spine, as you managed to shift into a crawling position. But your brief moment of triumph was short-lived.

With a swift move, he grabbed you around the waist, pulling you back towards him. You could feel his hot breath on your neck as he forced you face down onto the soft furs, his body pressing heavily against yours. "You cannot run from this," he rasped, his voice thick with lust and determination. "Be still." The fear that had been lurking within you surged back, filling every fiber of your being. You knew, with a certainty that was both terrifying and exhilarating, that there would be no escape. Not this time. Not until he had marked you, claimed you, bred you. His need was too great, his desire to leave his seed within you too strong to change your mind now.

As Sylus began to push his first cock into you, you felt a searing pain and a sense of being stretched to the limit. You realized, with a jolt of fear, that he hadn't been lying when he said this wouldn't be gentle. His cock was like a battering ram, forcing its way into your tight pussy with a ferocity that left you breathless. He let out a fierce growl of pleasure, pushing himself as deep as he could possibly go inside your walls.

He pumped feverishly, his hips moving with the strength and power of a beast. You groaned, your voice hoarse and barely audible, as your pussy was forced to take the pounding he was giving you. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pain and pleasure that left you gasping for air and gripping the fur beneath you.

His cock was huge, and it felt like it was tearing you apart, stretching your walls to the limit. You felt like you were being ripped in two, your body struggling to accommodate the size and strength of his thrusts. But Sylus didn't seem to care, his face twisted in a snarl of pleasure as he pounded into you with reckless abandon.

You were at his mercy, unable to escape the torrent of sensations that he was unleashing on your body. Your mind was a jumble of pain and pleasure, your body torn between the pain of his thrusts and the thrill of being taken by a creature so powerful and dominant. You felt his second cock rubbing itself between the rounds of your ass.

As Sylus continued to pump into you, his face twisted in a snarl of pleasure, he leaned in close and whispered in your ear.

"You'll never want for anything, beloved," he growled, voice low and reverent, thick with the weight of promise. It wasn’t just a statement. It was a vow. An oath carved from the bones of instinct, older than memory and heavier than gold. His breath was hot against your neck, his words brushing over your skin like fire.

"Not once," he continued, a possessive rumble threading through each syllable, "not once you're full with my children."

There was no shame in his tone, no hesitation. Just certainty. Purpose. He spoke like a dragon made flesh, a creature built for legacy, for claiming, for protecting what was his with unrelenting devotion. His hand traced your side as he spoke, the motion slow and reverent, as if feeling the space where new life would soon grow.

"Yes...yes give me as many children as you want Sylus, I want them all..." you begged, feeling yourself beginning to drool into the furs.

Your voice was barely above a whisper, but it seemed to have a profound effect on Sylus. His eyes flashed with a fierce light, and his face twisted in a snarl of pleasure.

Without warning, he pulled his cock out of you, the sudden withdrawal leaving you feeling empty and uneasy. But before you could even catch your breath, he flipped you around, his hands grasping your hips and pulling you back onto his cock. You felt him shove his cock balls deep inside you once again, the sudden invasion making you gasp with shock and pleasure.

You were stretched to the limit, your body struggling to accommodate the size and strength of his thrusts. But Sylus didn't seem to care, his face twisted in a mask of pleasure and desire. He pumped into you with a fierce intensity, his hips moving with a rapid, pounding rhythm that left you breathless and gasping. You felt his second cock sliding in harmonious rhythm across your stomach as he continued to pump the other inside you.

Sylus's movements grow frantic, each thrust more desperate than the last. The heat builds between you, an unstoppable force that drives you both to the edge. His breath hitches, and you can feel the tension coiling in his muscles, ready to snap.

With a final, forceful thrust, he slams deep inside you, a low groan ripping from his chest as he cums. The heat floods into you, a searing wave of release that leaves you both gasping. As he rides out the last pulses of his climax, he leans forward, sinking his teeth into your shoulder. The bite is sharp, claiming, sending a shock through your body that mingles with the aftershocks of his release.

You're both slicked in sweat, your chests rising and falling in a staggered rhythm as you cling to each other, trembling and utterly spent. The cave around you is dense with heat and the scent of exertion, the air thick enough to drink. Your skin is flushed, tingling, every nerve alight from the intensity of what has just passed between you. You feel the large amount of cum he shot inside you begin to spill out, making your thighs stick together. It’s hard to tell where your body ends and his begins—his warmth wraps around you like a living cocoon, steady and ever-present.

Every breath you take is his, pulled in from the narrow space between your mouths, and every exhale becomes a shared offering. His body is heavy over yours, enveloping, protective. You’re still reeling, caught somewhere between bliss and disbelief, when Sylus leans down and claims your lips in a kiss—fierce, unrelenting, yet reverent. It isn’t rushed. It’s deep, meaningful, and possessive in a way that leaves your heart pounding anew.

"Can you help me up?" you whisper, voice trembling, your limbs aching with fatigue. You lift a shaky hand, fingers brushing the fresh mark on your shoulder. The skin there is tender and warm, a physical memory of him etched into your flesh.

Sylus pulls back just enough to look at you, a small smile touching his lips. There’s affection in his gaze, but it’s layered with something else—something feral, possessive, unwavering. You blink at him, puzzled by the look he gives you, your breath catching as your body anticipates an answer.

"We aren’t finished, beloved" he murmurs, his voice like a caress wrapped in iron. The timbre of it thrums through your bones. He motions to his other member, still throbbing with need on your stomach. "I still have seed stored. I told you this would not be brief. We won’t be done until I am certain—utterly certain—that my seed has taken root."

The words wash over you like a second wave of heat. You feel it building again—not fear, not even hesitation. Just the slow, inevitable rush of anticipation. Your breath shudders as he presses closer once more, and the look in his eyes makes your heart stutter. He is so sure. So devoted. So...inescapably yours.

This isn’t just instinct anymore. It isn’t mere biology. It’s a vow, an offering, a claiming that comes from something sacred and ancient within him.

And as his lips brush against your throat, his tail curling possessively around your thigh again, you know one thing for certain:

Sylus isn’t finished.

And this becomes abundantly clear as he pushes his second cock inside you.

The next two days blur together in a haze of heat and aching limbs. Sylus is relentless—a creature driven by instinct and obsession, bound not just by desire but by an instinctual need to claim and secure what he now considers his. The cavern is filled with the sounds of breathless gasps, low growls, and the slick sound of bodies tangled in devotion and purpose.

There is barely a moment to rest. He presses into you again and again, each time with a ferocity that leaves you trembling, breathless, dazed. He rarely lets you catch your breath before pulling you close once more, whispering possessive promises into your ear, vowing over and over that he will not stop until he knows that his seed has taken root.

Still, there are brief breaks. Moments when he leaves to hunt, returning with food to replenish your strength. He never brings back just a meal—he returns with offerings: rare fruit, tender meats, things he’s sure will sustain and strengthen you. His eyes scan you for any signs of weakness, worry carved into the lines of his face even through the veil of lust that constantly clouds him.

One such time, you had tried to redress yourself, more out of instinct than shame. But when he returned and found you clothed again, his eyes darkened, the low sound of displeasure vibrating in his chest. He had stalked over to you, roughly tearing the garments off of your body, scattering them on the stone floor in pieces.

"Sylu-"

"No," he murmured, his voice low and rough, "You are to remain bare for me. Ready. Always."

And with those words, he had taken you again roughly, until the floor was soaked in his cum, as if to remind you that your body was his haven now—a vessel for something sacred. And this continued hourly, even when you had just awoken from a nap. He simply would spread your legs and begin pumping himself inside you. You welcomed this of course, figuring he was just following what his instincts were telling him to do.

Eventually, his frenzy began to slow. The fire that had once consumed him now burned low and steady, replaced by a quieter, more reverent form of devotion. Weeks passed in a blur of rest, warmth, and gentle touches, and then came the shift—he began to note that you smelled different. His sharp senses detected it before you felt a thing. He would murmur it against your skin, nose pressed to your neck or your belly, voice thick with wonder.

"You carry new life," he’d whisper.

At first, you rolled your eyes and laughed it off, teasing him for being so certain. You didn't want to get your hopes up. But soon, you began to feel it too—a flutter, faint and flickering like butterfly wings deep within. The first time it happened, you froze, a hand going instinctively to your belly. Sylus noticed immediately, his head snapping up, eyes wide.

"Did you feel it?"

You nodded slowly, hand still pressed to the gentle curve of your stomach. He was elated. Absolutely overcome with joy. He knelt before you and kissed your belly with a soft, contented purr rumbling from deep in his chest, his tail wrapping protectively around your ankles.

True to his word, he kept his promise. You never wanted for anything. He hunted only the best for you, brought the juiciest fruit, the most nourishing roots. He prepared meals with painstaking care, even if he didn’t eat most of it himself. When your back ached or your feet swelled, he massaged you with surprising tenderness, his large hands easing every knot and tension from your tired limbs. At night, he curled around you like a shield, his wings a blanket of protection, whispering soft things in a language you didn’t always understand.

Eventually, your clothes grew too tight to wear. Your belly swelled gloriously with life, and you gave up trying to force yourself into fabric that no longer fit. You wandered the cave freely, naked and glowing, your hands always resting protectively on your rounded stomach. Sylus didn’t mind in the slightest. He thought you looked divine.

Even in the later stages of your pregnancy, when walking made you tired and your body ached from the weight of his child, he still looked at you with hunger in his eyes. He remained ever ready to take you, though now with more patience, more gentleness to not hurt you or the baby. His touches were slow, reverent, his need no less intense but guided now by something softer—an unshakable adoration.

To him, you were more than his mate.

You were the future of his lineage. A living miracle he worshiped with every breath.

He was awoken one morning by the soft, fragile sound of you whining beside him—a breathy, instinctive noise that sliced through the quiet like a blade, shattering the peace of dawn. Instantly, he was alert, his senses snapping into sharp focus. In one smooth, practiced motion, he propped himself up on one elbow and leaned over you, red eyes scanning your body with fierce, frantic protectiveness. His hands hovered inches from your skin, as though afraid to touch and yet desperate to find the source of your distress.

When he found no visible wounds, he moved lower, his tail curling around your leg and lifting it gently. What he saw next made him still completely—and then smile, slow and reverent. A sheen of clear fluid glistened at your thighs. His chest swelled with emotion, and a warm, knowing glow filled his gaze.

It was time.

His breath caught in his throat, and the world seemed to narrow around this one miraculous truth. He leaned down, pressed his forehead to yours, and gently shook you awake, voice husky with emotion. "Wake, beloved," he murmured. "The hour is upon us."

What followed was the longest, most grueling day and a half of your life. The cave became a sanctuary of primal sound and sacred pain—the sharp edge of your cries echoing off the stone walls, the slow, rhythmic cadence of your breathing, and Sylus’s steady, grounding presence through it all. The space that had once been a den of passion now transformed into a place of birth and bond, of new beginnings.

He had prepared for this, of course. He always did. A nest of soft animal pelts had been lovingly arranged just days prior, thick and warm and perfectly layered to support your aching, straining body. You lay upon them, your skin damp with sweat, hair plastered to your temples, your belly tightening again and again with each new contraction. The pain was searing, unforgiving, your body fighting for every inch of progress.

And Sylus never left your side. Not for a moment.

He positioned himself behind you, his body acting as both cradle and shield. His larger frame curved protectively around yours, arms curled reverently over your middle, claws softened and carefully restrained so they wouldn’t harm you. He rubbed slow, grounding circles into the swell of your belly, the weight of his presence a balm against the storm.

His lips brushed your shoulder often, murmuring affirmations and praise, voice a low, calming purr that vibrated through your bones. His tail coiled gently around your thigh, anchoring you when you trembled. Whenever you cried out or whimpered in agony, he was there—not panicked, not shaken, but steady. Fierce.

"Breathe, my love," he whispered again and again, the words threaded with admiration. "You’re strong. So strong. You were made for this."

There was never a flicker of doubt in his eyes. He watched you with awe, holding space for your pain and your power, never wavering. His devotion took on a quiet intensity, every touch purposeful, every breath synchronized with yours. When you broke down in tears, sobbing through another wave of pain, he kissed your temple, held your hand, and wrapped you tighter in his warmth.

He treated you like something sacred—not just the mother of his child, but the miracle who bore his legacy. There was reverence in the way he touched you, in how he shifted with you through every hour, how his purring grew louder as your contractions deepened. You were his whole world in those moments, and he made sure you felt it.

As the hours stretched into exhaustion and time lost all meaning, he remained your constant.

And when the sharp, piercing cry of a newborn echoed through the cave, Sylus felt the breath leave his lungs entirely. The sound struck him like thunder, powerful and sacred, and his eyes locked on the sight before him: you, cradling the small, wriggling form against your chest. You were slick with sweat, flushed from exertion, but your smile—soft, exhausted, and full of wonder for your new baby—was the most radiant thing he had ever seen.

He moved toward you reverently, as if approaching something divine. But as he leaned in closer, a deep instinct stirred within him, passed down through countless generations. His tongue flicked out ever so slightly, and his body tensed with the urge to clean the newborn himself—the way his kind had always done.

You caught the motion and gave him a knowing look, gently placing a hand on his cheek. "No licking," you whispered with a tired laugh. "That’s not how we do it."

It took some convincing, his instincts hard to quiet, but he eventually yielded, watching with wide-eyed fascination as you showed him the human way. Warm cloths, gentle strokes, soft murmurs of comfort.

He knelt beside you, silent and attentive, absorbing every detail.

And though he did not get to perform the ritual of his bloodline, he found something just as profound in learning yours.

Together, you welcomed new life in a way that blended two worlds into one.

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mikkeneko · 8 months ago

Text

In various places -- here, the bird app, even YouTube comments -- I keep running into people with some variation of the same question:

"Does Scum Villain have a teacher/student romance?" And every time I want to answer with: No, But Also Yes, But Also Not Really, It's Complicated (And That's On Purpose.)

Which is an answer that's too long to fit in a tweet or a YT comment, but fortunately tumblr has no (effective) post limit! So here I go.

1 - No

In the very straight forward porn cliche sense of "oh but professor, I really ~need~ to pass this class or my life will be ruined, can't I do ~anything~ to get you to change my grade?" *bats lashes* and "Hoho, my pretty young teen student, I've got your good grade right here in my pants, if you ~apply~ yourself..." then no.

No sex or romance between a teacher and their student in the bounds of a teacher-student relationship happens in this book. No deliberate grooming of an underage student on the part of a teacher occurs in this book. No sex or a romance between an adult character and an underage character occurs in this book, nor is the adult 'waiting' for the minor to reach adulthood to initiate one.

2 - But Also Yes

No sex or romance between a teacher and their student in the bounds of that relationship happens in this book. Two people who were formerly in a teacher and student relationship do enter into a sexual and romantic relationship by the end of the book. Also the nature of the society they're in further means that even though they are no longer in the schooling environment, it is socially assumed that the deference owed by a student to their teacher lasts forever, even after the student leaves that environment, and they continue to regard themselves and refer to themselves in those roles even though the teacher no longer strictly speaking has authority over the student.

Also, the student was really hot for his teacher even when he was still a student. (The teacher was oblivious to this fact.)

3 - But Also Not Really

By the time sex and romance is even on the horizon for these characters, their relationship has so drastically changed from that of a "teacher and student" that it is barely recognizeable as such. The power/authority dynamic between a teacher and their student is subsumed pretty much entirely by the facts that:

A. The 'student' has become a medeival fantasy warlord of such unsurpassable magic and might that literally no other person in this world can stand up against him, 'teacher' included, and the 'teacher' is well aware of that.

B. Also, the 'student' is metaphysically endowed (heh) with the Protagonist Halo, a literally active force within the setting they're part of, which means that not only can he not be defeated, he ontologically cannot be denied anything that he desires; what he wants, he gets, and what he doesn't want, cannot be forced on him.

C. ...But also, the teacher in this setting is a metaphysical outsider to the world order the student is part of, which means that he is aware of all of the above, and can and does manipulate it to suit his own agenda, which may or may not align with giving the student what he wants at any point in time. Assuming that the teacher has the correct understanding of what the student wants. (He doesn't.)

D. ........But also also, for all his power, one harsh word from him can destroy him. For all his knowledge, one tear can devastate him. (Which one? Both.)

4 - It's Complicated (On Purpose)

*throws the chalk against the wall*

Between a teacher and their student, who has the power? Between an emperor and a scholar, who has the power? Between a hero and the villain he is predestined to destroy, who has the power? Between a character and the reader who's read ahead to the end of the story, who has the power? Do we find some of these power imbalances more acceptable than others? And if so, why do we?

Trying to track Who Has The Power or Who Has An Unfair Advantage socially, physically, and metaphysically between this particular pair of characters is damn near impossible and that's on purpose.

The Scum Villain's Self Saving System is a lot of things, but one thing that absolutely defines it is that it is a parody. It's a parody and a deconstruction of a lot of things -- the 'stallion' genre, the 'isekai' genre, the 'pay-per-chapter webnovel' genre, the 'gay drama' genre and, most relevant to this conversation, it is a deconstruction of teacher-student romance.

What kind of a teacher-student romance has a clueless, fish-out-of water NEET in the role of the Wise Old Mentor? What kind of a teacher-student romance has a black-hearted, demonic, domineering feudal warlord in the role of the Blushing Virginal Student? What kind of a teacher-student romance has the two principals so close in age -- by the end of the book, they may be as little as a year apart -- that they're more like peers than teacher and student? What kind of audience are we, going into a story like this one and finding ourselves cheering for the teacher to fall in love and lust with his student, only to be disappointed when that doesn't happen because the teacher fails for three books straight to recognize love and lust when it's literally looking him in the face and crying?

Asking "does Scum Villain have a teacher-student romance?" is sort of like asking "does Galaxy Quest have a lot of high science fiction concepts?" No, but also yes, but also not really. It's complicated, and that's on purpose.

#svsss meta #wordy #long post

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bbokicidal · 2 months ago

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[SKZ] When you're included in a SKZCODE episode

i made this before the front desk at work tried to take me out so yall can have it now since my brain is rattled n chunky.

Genre: Fluff Pairing: OT8 x Reader Warnings: Lino's pics aren't from the episode I put bc I couldn't find any, sorry!

SFW Masterlist | NSFW Masterlist

Chan: Episode: Winter is Coming [Ep 1 & 2]

Pouts when he finds out he has to try and stop you from getting the flag up and down the hill in record time because he wants you to win,,, duh.

But it doesn't stop him from absolutely ramming a ball of snow into the back of your head (on accident)

Laughs at the way the boys try to stop you with their bodies and the way you fearlessly bodyslam them in an attempt to win the game

Almost dies of laughter at seeing you spin in circles and then try to attack the poor balloon - only for it to fly away and disqualify you

Buys you hot chocolate after the shoot is over and cuddles up with you to keep warm after being outside in the snow all day <3

Minho: Episode: The Ultimate SKZCODE Recap [Ep 69-70]

Has to hide his giggles at your poor presenting of the boys' awards

And how bad they are at guessing the right answers to the quiz questions

Gets all blushy when you announce him for any award and shies away when you run to the audience to sit down and cheer so loudly for him

Ends up trying to bribe you for answers to the quiz questions by winking and blowing you kisses from his table

Until he's called out by Jisung, at least

Changbin: Episode: SKZ-ARY TOWN [Ep 57-68

Cannot hide his laughter at the way you fail at bobbing for apples

But then loses his shit jumping around and yelling "That's my baby!!" when you manage to get a few and tie with Felix for first place

Tries to bribe the staff to give him the same amount of points as you since you're dating

Tells you to do the first position in the relay game but quickly switches with you when he realizes you almost fly away with Chan and Minho trying to restrict your running with the band

He's literally bouncing around with how good you are at the mini games and ends up putting you on the toast-toss station because you're the only team member who doesn't suck

Hugs you so tight when you win the game and swings you around in his arms just because he's so excited

Hyunjin: Episode: Go! Poolside SKZ [Ep 57-58]

Has the time of his life seeing you and Jisung run and dive in together because you lost rock paper scissors

Asks for you to not be on his team because he doesn't trust your ability in the water games as if he's any better himself

Ends up accidentally hitting you with the ball a few times and immediately apologizes, then allows you to throw it at him once on purpose as revenge

Just about loses it on Seungmin when he flips over your tube like Chan did with Felix, then yells for staff to disqualify him

But he's just as brutal because in the tug of war he rips your ass off of the platform and almost falls in because of how hard he's laughing at your yells of protest

Jisung: Episode: SKZ Family Returns [Ep 39-40] (He looked SO FINE in this episode good GAWD)

Has a blast flirting it up with Minho but after Seungmin starts biting back he makes a show of turning to you instead

You play his in-law technically - Your character being Hyunjin's sibling

Everyone is in shock and making a scene of Jisung's flirtatious attitude towards you as the roleplay goes on

And they're even more surprised and making drama of it when the two of you kiss behind Hyunjin's head

He ends up sitting with his guitar and singing the 'I'm sorry' song again because of it

Almost starts fighting Seungmin at one point because he 'also wants to have an affair with you' as a joke

Felix: Episode: Bedtime Bingo Hell [Ep 55-56]

Watching him yell about how he's bronze is what makes you laugh the most

He has a blast watching you try to do the pillow air-bowling but gawks when you manage to knock a few down and then yells about how you're his and how he's so proud

He's full of giggles when you hop on the whoopie cushion

And he's full of playful rage when Changbin is called 'the one with the prettiest butt' so he begins an argument that yours is way prettier

Also almost loses his shit when you come in second for the loudest fart

He's proud but at what cost

Seungmin: Episode: Fall Field Day [Ep 59-60]

Cries at seeing you in the raw chicken blow up costume and takes a picture before making it his lockscreen because he thinks you're so cute

He ends up being the one to fight you on the mat and ends up losing to you

Don't let his cuteness fool you - he absolutely obliterates you in dodgeball

Can he aim? No. And Minho can't guard for shit; So you end up getting hit more than you probably should

He giggles at you running around the sidelines in an attempt to get back in the game, singing out "I'm sorry ~"

Takes videos of you running during the relay race because he just thinks it's so cute

Jeongin: Episode: Suspicious Lab [Ep 47-48]

He's supposed to be guessing voices but he hears you go, "Ahh - I sound so much different than all of you, this isn't fair!" in your high-pitched helium tone and bursts into laughter

Your experiment ended up breaking so you did Seungmin's after him, wearing the stimulation machine on one of your arms and trying to fold an airplane

He ends up taking the remote from Minho at some point because he's having too much fun with tormenting you and Jeongin can't stand it

Turns up the machine even more to see you squirm

Also cheats during the game where he had to try and ramp up your heart rate (He touches your ass to get a reaction out of you) and then denies it in a fit of laughter when you call him out to the staff

Permanent Taglist :

@dwaekkicidal @possum-playground

@thatonedarkskinnedsiren @oc3anfloor @theyadorevalerie

@jeonginsleftcheek @pixie-felix @hwangjoanna @skzophreniic

@silly250

#skz x reader #skz imagine #stray kids x reader #bangchan x reader #felix x reader #hyunjin x reader #seungmin x reader #changbin x reader #jeongin x reader #stray kids imagine #skz fic #skz headcanons #skz fluff #stray kids fluff

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wintrbears · 1 month ago

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All is Fair | JJK

Summary: The Dragons, led by your brother, occupy the East side of the city while the Wolves occupy the West. There is only one rule, and technically, you didn't mean to break it. Stay away from the Wolves.

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader, Namjoon x Seokjin (only by reference)

Genre: Biker Gang AU, Fuck Buddies to Lovers, Romeo and Juliet, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Smut, Fluff (if you close one eye and tilt your phone)

Word Count: 20.4k+

Warnings: minor character death, major character death (not jk or oc), murder, graphic suicidal ideation, dead bodies, depression, reference to drunk driving, orphans/orphaning, running away from home, stealing, beatings, punching, kicking, screaming, crying, nightmares, night terrors, stitches, punctured lungs, major physical injuries, facial scars, hospitals, piercings, tattoos, graduate school, libraries, studying, blood, guns/gunshot, knives, gang violence, motorcycles, gay men(?), rivalries, drinking, pet names (baby, pretty, bug (non-romantic)). SMUT: kissing, fingering, oral sex (both receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex (she's on bc), cream pie, coming on skin, cum eating/feeding, choking, spanking, spitting, dick riding, missionary, doggy, big dick!jk bc I always strive for accuracy, masturbation (m), grief sex, semi-public sex, ok that's all folks lmk if I missed any.

Author’s Note: I actually cannot believe I didn't write for two years and then pumped out almost 40k words in a single week. My fiancé misses me, you guys. But anyway this fic... oh this fic. It's very heavy but my entire heart is buried in this so I really hope you take the time to read it. Every single character (member?) means so much to me and I hope you come to love it as much as I do. P.S. for plot reasons JK doesn't have any hand tattoos you'll see what I mean. OK pls lmk what you think it makes my heart so happy bye love you :)

When you inevitably fail your exam, no one will be to blame except your brother and his delinquent friends. The noise-canceling headphones he gifted you last Christmas are doing fuck all against the pounding bass of their music downstairs. They’re the expensive kind, too. You know because they still had the security tag on them Christmas morning. He broke it off with pliers before handing them back to you with a dimpled smile.

Finally having enough, you stomp down the stairs to confront your irritability at the source. Not many of them are home tonight. Just Namjoon and his three closest underlings: Seokjin, Yoongi, and Hoseok. He’s the youngest among them and somehow still wound up the leader.

The Dragons, your brother’s notorious motorcycle gang, are far greater in number than the four downstairs. Ten bikers live here at the house with you, but when the gang rides in total there’s about twenty five men. There are some drifters, but no matter the number they are a force to be reckoned with on the road.

“Hey,” you yell over the music.

Namjoon gestures for Hoseok to turn it down and ushers you forward with a wave of his hand.

“What’s up, bug?”

“Can you please keep it down? I’m trying to study,” you answer.

“Oh, we’re sorry,” Seokjin responds. “You were so quiet we forgot you were up there. You’re usually down here annoying us.”

You roll your eyes. The four of them have been friends for the better part of a decade. They’re the only gang members allowed to tease you. If someone else tries it, Namjoon takes their head.

Your brother is extremely protective of you without being controlling. You appreciate his ability to recognize your adulthood while still wanting to keep you from harm. You can attest without a shadow of a doubt that Namjoon will do whatever it takes to keep you safe. His determination to protect you is how you wound up with the Dragons in the first place.

“Why don’t you go over to your study buddy’s house?” Hoseok suggests.

Right… your study buddy they still believe is a woman. The study buddy they assume helps you study instead of fucking you dumb.

“We don’t study at her house. We study at the library.”

This is a partial lie. You “study” at the library, in his car, in the school janitorial closet, and anywhere else he can get his hands on you. Ironically, your grades have never been better. Call it a lack of stress.

“We’ll keep it down, bug,” Namjoon assures you. “Sorry.”

Once you communicate your appreciation, you travel upstairs again to continue studying. You hear the music turn back on, but this time at a much lower volume.

Phone lighting up on your desk, you lean over to see a familiar name. Jungkook’s ears must’ve been ringing because there’s a photo of his finished study guide on your screen. You reply to his text complaining that you’re not even halfway done yet before turning your phone over so you can actually focus.

You didn’t predict meeting someone like Jungkook this year, or ever, really. When this semester of your Master’s program began you weren’t looking for anything, especially not a fuck buddy. You only ask Jungkook to be your study buddy in the first place because he’s the smartest person in your class by a long shot. Coincidentally, you only spend the early months of the semester as study buddies before advancing to fuck buddies. Sometimes you still actually study together, but it’s few and far between.

Despite Jungkook thoroughly wrecking your body every time he touches it, he’s probably the nicest guy you’ve ever met. No matter the hour he’ll answer questions about assignments or explain complex topics you can’t wrap your head around. He lends pencils to strangers and one time you swear you saw him saving a cat from a tree.

You still remember the first time you laid eyes on him.

It’s brutally hot for the first day of class. The city is scorching with record-breaking temperatures even in September. The vents are located at the back of the large classroom so you find an empty desk in the back corner to occupy.

You’re preparing for the first lecture by placing your essentials on the desk and plugging in the charger for your laptop. Distracting yourself with color-coordinating your highlighters, you miss most people entering the room.

Someone upstairs is looking out for you, though, because when you glance at the entrance it’s at the exact moment an absolute Adonis is walking in. He has wavy black hair that just kisses his cheekbones but is longer in the back, huge starry brown eyes, a button nose, and pretty pink lips accompanied by a tiny mole just under the bottom one. He’s wearing a long-sleeve white shirt, baggy jeans, and big black combat boots. To make matters worse he’s sporting black half-rim glasses.

You quickly realize your mistake in gawking at him because he makes eye contact with you, thus giving him permission to take the seat next to you. Precisely as the unspoken rules of classroom etiquette dictate.

He greets you with an amicable bow before plopping in the chair that shares your desk space. Using your peripheral vision you watch him lay out his supplies and open his laptop.

You’re wearing a crop top and are still too warm, so you’re downright shocked at his outfit choice. He doesn’t even roll his sleeves up.

“Are you hot?”

The words are leaving your mouth before you can stop them.

Your companion looks at you, eyes wide, questioning whether you’re talking to him or not. When he realizes you are, he glances down at his attire. Then he chuckles.

“That’s a bit forward, don’t ya think?”

If you could crawl into a hole and die, you would.

“I didn’t mean it like —”

He’s cutting you off with a wave of his hand as he laughs off the miscommunication. There’s an awkward silence before he continues the conversation.

“To answer your question, yes I am,” he says. “Not like that, though.” He winks at you and it takes everything in you not to audibly moan.

Despite him admitting to being warm he does nothing to remedy it. You’re not his mother nor his girlfriend so you don’t question him.

That’s the last time you speak that day, but over the course of a few weeks you partake in small talk and learn each other’s names.

You initially ask him to study together the week prior to your first exam. He enthusiastically agrees and you settle on a time before exchanging numbers. The study sessions continue on a weekly basis even once you take the exam.

The night your relationship shifts into uncharted territory is one you’ll never forget.

Jungkook is sitting beside you as he copies notes from a PowerPoint lecture into his notebook. The sound of his pencil scribbling on the paper is familiar now. You're absentmindedly scrolling through last week’s readings to find your previous highlights. The professor surprised you today by announcing there would be a quiz on the article and now you need to re-familiarize yourself with it.

Leaning back in the chair with a huff, you cross your arms over your chest. Jungkook peeks at you from behind his hair. He chuckles before setting his pencil down.

“What’s wrong?”

“Don’t wanna do this anymore,” you pout. Jungkook coos at you sarcastically and you hit his arm with your shirt sleeve in protest. “Shut up, nerd.”

“What do you wanna do instead, huh?”

You eye him from your position until you find an answer. Rather than verbally replying you lean forward and gently steal the glasses from his face. You slip them on and glance around the library to see if you can tell the difference.

“Damn you are — oh.”

Any semblance of thought dies within you the second you look at him again. Like an actual comic book character, removing his glasses magically gives him a Clark Kent to Superman-esque makeover. He’s sitting taller with his shoulders back, his doe eyes are sharp and dark, and instead of his normal dorky smile he’s smirking at you. You actually look around again to see if he stood up and someone took his place.

To be frank, you aren’t entirely sure what happens next. One moment you’re at the table together and the next you’re in the Historical Fiction section and Jungkook is on his knees pushing your skirt up and pulling your panties down so he can make out with your cunt.

The worst part is that amongst the chaos, you’re still wearing his fucking glasses. In fact they rest on your nose through the whole ordeal, all the way until you’re coming on his tongue with a cry of his name. He doesn’t take them back until he’s rising to face you and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Thus begins your first ever situationship, although that doesn’t seem entirely correct. You and Jungkook aren’t in that weird headspace where neither of you know what the other wants. You mutually agree it’s just sex until someone decides to either move on or move up to boyfriend and girlfriend status.

The latter option is definitely tempting. Jungkook treats you well and fucks you even better. Which are pretty much the only two prerequisites you have for a relationship. But your current dependence on the Dragons prevents you from choosing that route.

There’s a knock on your door which pulls you from your reverie. Namjoon’s face peaks around the corner.

“We’re heading out to deal with some Wolves. Be back soon,” he informs you.

“Be safe,” you reply.

He assures you that he will before shutting your door. Anxiety flickers awake in your stomach and travels through your nervous system. Of all the gang activity that surrounds you, this is the shit you hate the most. Stupid boys doing stupid boy things.

The Dragons occupy all the territory East of the large river which slices your city in half. The territory on the West side of the river is owned by the Wolves. There are straggler factions and out-of-towners who sometimes come into the fold, but they’re nowhere near the size of the two gangs. Naturally, the Dragons and the Wolves despise one another and their history dates back long before Namjoon became the leader. He inherited the rivalry amongst many other responsibilities and now he perpetuates it without knowing why it exists in the first place.

You already know when you see Namjoon tomorrow he’ll have split knuckles and bruises on his skin. It makes you sick to your stomach. This life is far beneath what your brother deserves and what he’s capable of. You want so much more for him and for yourself as well. Getting your Master’s degree is the first step in liberating you both from all the violence and decay which surrounds you. Namjoon risked everything to save you as children, and you vow to return the favor one day, even if it kills you.

Contrary to popular belief, you don’t fail your exam the next day. In fact, you leave the classroom with a spring in your step now that your stressor is behind you.

Jungkook watches you ahead of him with a twinkle of admiration in his eyes as you skip towards the parking lot.

“You know, we’ve been doing this for a while now and I’ve never even been to your place,” you say.

“My place…” Jungkook clicks his tongue. “I don’t think you’ll like it very much.”

“Why not?” You stop short and cause Jungkook to barrel into you. “Hold on, you don’t have a girlfriend, do you? Or wait, do you still live with your mom or something?”

“No, mom’s gone,” he answers.

You turn around to face him when you hear his response. He’s saying it nonchalantly but his eyes are swimming with sadness and maybe even guilt.

“Jungkook, I’m so sorry,” you reply. He shakes his head, waving your condolences away before reaching out to pick a fallen leaf from your hair.

“It’s okay. It was a long time ago,” he adds. “And no, no girlfriend. Only you, pretty.”

“So then…” You rock back on your heels. “Can I see your place? I promise I’m not judgmental like that. I mean, there’s a reason you’ve never been to my place, either.”

Jungkook thinks it over for a moment as he drags you by the hand towards his car.

“Not yet,” he finally answers. “Soon, hopefully.”

You accept his response albeit a little disappointedly. It’s not even about you getting into his business like that, you’re just sick of the tight spaces the two of you are forced to hook up in. You’ve never even seen the guy fully naked before because you’re always pulling your clothes aside just enough to get the job done.

He denies it but you know he’s got abs under there and you’re dying to finally get your mouth on them.

Sure, you complain, but when he opens his car door for you to climb into his backseat you’re doing so without another word.

You don’t fuck right away because the parking lot is still packed and you’re not trying to catch a charge. Namjoon would kill you before you even get the chance to stand before a judge.

Instead, Jungkook shows you his newest Pokémon game on his Switch and hands it over to you so you can play. You giggle as your adorable water type does its victory dance after demolishing your opponent. Jungkook watches over your shoulder and directs you when to block and which attacks to use. Somehow, it all feels more intimate than when his cock is in your mouth.

Which is precisely where you two end up about an hour later when the surrounding cars have all left.

Jungkook’s backseat isn’t big enough for you to kneel on the floorboards so he’s lounging across the seats with you kneeling between his legs. You honestly prefer this position because the leather is far more forgiving to your knees than the carpet. His pants and boxers are around his thighs as you bob your head up and down his beautifully large and veiny cock.

Your man is a head pusher through and through and so you welcome the familiar feeling of his fingers against your scalp as he guides you deeper until your nose is brushing his pelvis. He doesn’t force you down around him or fuck his hips into you. The grasp on your hair is moreso for control and because he loves to feel you while you pleasure him.

You gag when his tip touches the back of your throat and you stay there for a moment, letting him feel you swallow around him before returning to his tip and swirling your tongue around it. Keeping your tongue out so it caresses the underside while you move up and down, you continue your movements at a steady pace.

Jungkook groans, his head hitting the window with a dull thud.

“Oh, pretty, you have no idea the things you do to me,” he praises. He uses his grip on you to make you look at him. You moan around his cock when your eyes meet and he yanks on your hair in appreciation. “S’fucking good.”

This man loves a good blowjob and you love to please him. Every time you’re on your knees for him he praises and worships you and your sweet mouth for the euphoria they bring him. He tastes delicious on your tongue and if not for your human need to inhale, you would go all night.

It only takes a couple more messy slides of your tongue down his shaft and your hand playing with his balls before he’s coming down your throat in thick, hot spurts of white. You swallow every last drop, continuing to move your mouth from his head to the base, before finally coming up for some much needed air.

Sitting back on your heels, you place your hands in the space between your knees and bat your eyelashes at him. You know he likes it when you look all innocent despite the nasty things you do together. If things were different, if you were able to be with him in the confines of a bedroom and savor your time together, you’d put on a pretty white set with bows all over just to drive him crazy.

Jungkook clocks your behavior with a tilt of his head, his tongue pushing against his cheek before he yanks you back and flips you over so your ass is facing him. His hand slowly traverses your back before stopping between your shoulder blades to push your face into the leather. You arch your back for him and wiggle your ass to really get him going. You can’t see him anymore but you hear the fond, deep chuckle. He pulls down your tights and panties in one go before flipping your skirt up so he can see you properly.

He grabs your ass in his big hands and pulls your cheeks apart to spit on your hole. Your eyes roll back at the feeling of it dripping down your folds. Hips pushing back against his hands, Jungkook just laughs at your neediness before slapping your ass.

“Oh fuck,” you curse.

He tsks at you disapprovingly.

“You that cock drunk, pretty? I haven’t even touched you yet,” he says.

“I know,” you say through gritted teeth.

He bends down to lay across your back and bites on your earlobe before soothing it with his tongue.

“C’mon, baby. You know I always take care of you.”

He doesn’t allow you to reply before he’s thrusting his cock in and nudging his head against your cervix. Your hands clutch desperately at his seats, fingernails making indentations in the leather, as he rears back before doing it all over again. This man makes you fucking delirious and you wonder if you’ll ever get enough. Lord knows no other man will ever successfully replicate the pleasure he provides you.

Jungkook’s pace is relentless and steadfast and it isn’t long before the friction of his cock sinking in and out of your walls brings you to a climax. He’s an overachiever, though, and he doesn’t let up even as he feels your pussy pulsating around him as you come. He soldiers on, tilting your hips to make you arch even further and send his cock deeper inside you. You feel him in your stomach and it has you drooling where your face is crushed against the seat.

You pathetically moan out a sound that closely resembles his name as he abuses your hole.

Your next orgasm hits you much faster, riding the wave of your first to bring stars to your eyes yet again. Your cunt squeezes Jungkook impossibly tight when you come and it causes him to shoot his load inside you and stuff you full of him. This man’s cock is too good to ever be obstructed by a plastic barrier. You’re on birth control and neither of you sleep with anyone but each other, so raw it is.

When you exit the car to move to the front seat, the stars have appeared in the sky. Jungkook drives you home, or what he believes is your home, and bids you goodnight. Once his car is out of sight, you pivot and walk the familiar route to your actual house.

It’s normal for you to arrive home this late, even before you met Jungkook. Namjoon never questions where you’ve been or you were with, which you appreciate. He understands you need independence and will contact him if you’re ever in trouble. He doesn’t need to study your every move when he only has one rule for you, anyway: stay away from the Wolves.

The next day you're lounging in the living room with your ankles crossed where they rest over the arm of a chair. You’re reading for a different class than the one you share with Jungkook, trying to get the assignment done now so you can enjoy your night.

Your peace and quiet is disturbed when Namjoon walks in looking supremely pissed off. His jaw is clenched and since his hair is pushed back you can see the veins popping out in his forehead.

“Joonie?” You call for him as you sit up. “What’s going on?”

“Fucking Wolves,” he growls. He paces back and forth a couple times before stopping in front of you. “We’re meeting at the river tonight. You need to come.”

“Why?”

“Because word on the street is they’re going to use the meet-up as a distraction to raid the house,” he answers. “I need you with me so I know you’re safe.”

“Wouldn’t it make more sense to call off the meet-up?” You argue.

“No. I want them to come. So I can rip them to fucking shreds and send those assholes a message,” he explains.

You have no reason or room to question him, so you head upstairs to change. Whenever you’re going to be in the presence of gang members, whether Dragons or Wolves, Namjoon prefers you dress a bit tougher than your normal girly outfits. He knows these men and the way they think, so anything, no matter how small, to show them you mean business is a good thing.

Throwing on cargo pants, combat boots, and a leather jacket over your t-shirt, you use the darker half of your eyeshadow palette and put your hair up. All for show.

You’re exiting the house as the sun sinks behind the clouds. Namjoon hands you the extra helmet before swinging his leg over his bike. He watches you put it on and adjust the strap before he slaps your eye shield down with a laugh. You shove his arm before swinging your leg over and joining him on the motorcycle.

The familiar thunderous sound of the Dragon’s motorcycles coming to life is deafening even through the helmet. It’s about fifteen bikes in total and the remaining gang members will guard the house and catch any Wolves trying to break in.

Seokjin, Yoongi, and Hoseok are directly behind you and Namjoon. One by one they signal to your brother they’re ready to go. You adjust your placement by scooting closer to your brother’s warmth and wrapping your arms around his middle. Your fingers twist around the zipper of his open leather jacket to hold onto him. The engine roars to life and you feel the bike kick beneath you as it rears to go.

“Good?” He asks.

“Ready as ever,” you confirm.

Kicking up the stand with his heel, he signals with his hand before leading the bikers away from the house and onto the dark pavement of the road. The wind sweeps over your bodies in waves as Namjoon speeds down the backstreets leading into the city.

You don’t ride much anymore, but whenever you do it’s always exhilarating. The heat of the bike beneath your legs, your brother’s comforting presence in front of you, and the air wiping around you as it nips at your clothes. Tipping to the right along with Namjoon as he takes a tight corner, you watch as the city grows closer. The monumental buildings and yellow lights along the river make it look beautiful and more peaceful than you know it is.

When you reach the river, the Wolves are already there waiting. The rival gang members lounge on their parked motorcycles as they speak to one another. It can’t be all of them, since you know their numbers closely rival your own, and there aren't more than twelve here. It pisses you off when you realize they really are planning to raid the house tonight. If you find out a Wolf was in your room there will be hell to pay.

Namjoon kills the engine and removes his helmet, shaking his dark hair from his eyes. You follow suit and step off the bike as he pushes the stand back down. Your brother shoots you a look you already know means “stay close to me.”

The agreed upon location is just outside an abandoned warehouse where everything in sight is slowly deteriorating. The road has gigantic potholes and cracks and if you go close enough to the water some of the gravel has already caved in and is eroding. The two gangs congregate near the water’s edge where it laps against the shore and sprays water onto the road.

When the dust settles, Namjoon stands ahead of his gang where he is toe-to-toe with the Wolves’ leader, Bangchan. You move quietly through the rows of Dragons until you’re off to the left, farthest from the water. The position hides you enough to avoid unwanted attention but is still close enough to Namjoon in case of an emergency. Seokjin, Yoongi, and Hoseok stand at the back and sides, respectively, creating an invisible wall of your brother’s closest allies.

Your eyes maneuver over the crowd of Wolves one at a time. Without their leather biker jackets which bear the insignia of each group, it would be impossible to tell them apart. They’re just a bunch of boys pretending to be men.

None of them particularly stand out to you except —

Head whipping back for a double take, the movement is so quick your ponytail snaps harshly against your skin. Your eyes slowly open wide, your mouth dropping open just enough for a sharp intake of air. Because amongst the crowd of Wolves, off to the left next to a shorter blonde guy is…

There’s no way.

He certainly looks like Jungkook. His hair is falling down in soft waves just like Jungkook’s does and his unmistakable doe eyes are front and center without his glasses on. But this guy has a lip piercing and eyebrow piercing. His ears are decorated with pretty silver hoops and a dangling chain. The doppelganger is wearing a navy blue cut off, which reveals to your eyes that his entire arm, from wrist to shoulder, is covered in tattoos. Dark, colorful, intricate tattoos that look like they took years to build into the sleeve it is now. This can’t be the reason Jungkook only ever wears long sleeves and weirdly refuses to ever roll them up… can it?

You squint to make sure you’re seeing him correctly in the dim light. Jungkook must have a twin he never told you about, right?

But no, that isn’t the answer, because his eyes land on you and widen dramatically. His mouth drops open before it snaps shut and his jaw clenches. From across the concrete where you stand you can see how his entire body is taut with tension.

What. The. Fuck.

The blonde guy next to him notices the change in the air, nudging him with his elbow. Jungkook shoots him a hard glance before returning his gaze to you.

Part of you wants to cry, and part of you wants to scream. All of you wants to run to him and demand an answer. This guy is a straight A graduate student. What the hell is he doing running around with a bunch of delinquent motorcycle gang members?

The sound of your brother’s voice steals your attention away.

“That’s not what we do here,” he says to Chan. You’re unsure what it’s in response to.

“Hmm,” the man opposite him muses. “No I guess not, but you bring your girl around? That’s a little dangerous, don’t you think?”

Namjoon’s jaw ticks and his teeth grind together at the mention of you, but he hides it well. You only notice the movement because you know what every tick and twitch of his means.

“Not my girl,” he corrects.

“Oh that’s right, I heard you have a baby sister,” he replies. “What’s your name, sweetheart?” Your eyebrows lift when he calls out to you, but you know better.

“Don’t speak to her,” Namjoon responds in your stead.

When you glance at Jungkook again he looks irrevocably angry, a deep frown messing with his pretty features. His fellow Wolf seems concerned at his mysterious attitude.

Right now, you’re telepathically begging Jungkook to make eye contact again. To offer some explanation even with just his eyes. Sure, you don’t know much about each other’s lives outside of school but the feeling of betrayal slinks under your skin nonetheless. Mostly because of the fucking tattoo sleeve he’s been hiding from you.

His eyes do eventually meet yours, but his expression is cold. Is he upset at you for keeping this part of your life from him, too?

The low grumble of taunts and heckles from both gangs indicates their playtime is over. When you look across the street, Jungkook is already climbing on his bike and putting on his helmet. You know without uncertainty now that it is in fact Jungkook, since a large purple “JK” emblem is painted onto his helmet.

Namjoon is quick to gesture you over to him. Your eyes meet Bangchan’s as you walk to the bike, and it disgusts you how he drinks you up and undresses you with his eyes when you pass by.

You scoff before getting back into position behind your brother and securing your helmet in place.

Jungkook is fucking reeling. He barely waits for the rest of his gang to peel away on their bikes before he’s taking off down the street. Jimin follows close behind him, the older biker probably still wondering what the fuck is going on.

Rides are normally Jungkook’s way of clearing his head, but tonight all he can think and feel is his blood pumping with adrenaline. You are the last person he ever expected to be involved with a gang. It’s almost enough to make him laugh; all you wear are sexy little skirts and shirts with cartoon characters on them. You’re girly and adorable and should be spending your time at the mall, not in the underbelly of this messed up city. Although, if your involvement begins and ends with your brother, he imagines you don’t have much choice.

Jungkook makes it back to the house in record time, leaving everyone else in the dust. He is quick to cut the engine of his bike and toss his helmet aside so he can get inside. His hands run through his hair over and over as he trudges into the house, pulling at the ends as he grits his teeth.

The door slams shut behind him and he yells into the air with his head thrown back. Taehyung is rounding the corner from the kitchen when he hears it. He should be at the Dragon’s Lair right now ransacking the place, but Chan called it off when he found out the Dragons knew what they were planning.

“Uh, you good?”

“No,” Jungkook sneers. “No, I’m not fucking good, Tae.”

Taehyung is about to probe him with more questions when Jimin flies through the door.

“What the fuck was that, kid?” Jimin sets his helmet down on the table and walks over.

“You guys remember the girl I was telling you about?” He asks. They both nod. “Yeah, well. She’s the leader of the Dragons fucking little sister.”

“Oh, fuck.”

“Holy shit.”

“Jungkook, what the fuck are you doing sticking your dick in someone involved with the Dragons?” Taehyung accuses.

“I didn’t know, Tae! I didn’t know until I saw her at the meet-up tonight,” Jungkook explains.

“And she saw you?” Jimin asks.

“Oh yeah,” Jungkook laughs incredulously. “She looked shocked as hell and like she was about to cry.”

Taehyung and Jimin share a look while Jungkook practically rips his hair out from how much he’s combing his fingers through it.

“You know you… can’t see her anymore, right?” Jimin poses the question cautiously. “If Kim Namjoon ever found out you’ve laid a finger on her he will fucking end you.”

“I know,” Jungkook grunts out. “I fucking know, Jimin.” Jungkook paces the room a couple times. “Fuck!” He slaps his hands against his face before groaning into them.

“I mean, I know the pussy was good but it will be fine, right? It’s not like you were dating her,” Taehyung adds.

Jungkook just glares at him from between his fingers. He doesn’t think he can talk about this anymore without losing his goddamn mind. He tells them goodnight without any further explanation before trudging down the stairs.

He slams his door and chucks his leather jacket on a chair once he’s in the confines of his bedroom. He wants to scream again, but he doesn’t, tries to take deep breaths instead. The air feels thick and his shirt is suddenly too tight.

His head is pounding with a headache that just sounds like you, you, you.

The same you who is always on his mind, day or night. The girl he never rushes when you study together because he likes to watch the gears turn in your pretty little head. The girl he admires from his periphery as you doodle in your notebook. You, who he wants to kiss more than anything but he doesn’t because he’s terrified of scaring you away.

Jungkook falls to his bed and covers his face with his hands. He’s in pure, unadulterated agony. His knuckles press into his eyelids as he groans. Lately, he’s been picturing so much for you and him. He daydreams about holding your hand and taking you out on dates and making love to you in his bed. It feels like there’s so much potential now shot in the face and gone in an instant.

He knows he can’t continue on with you. It would be dangerous and reckless. Yet he wants to, he wants to so badly he can feel the need in his bones.

He punches his pillow once, twice, and then sits up. He shakes his head as if that could dispel his thoughts of you. No, nothing will ever bring him to forget your brilliant smile, your sparkling eyes, your soft skin. Or the way you moan, whimper, and cry when he’s making you come and fucking you nice and deep. Jungkook doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to fuck someone who isn’t you again. No, you’ve completely and utterly ruined his body and mind.

“God fucking dammit, Y/N,” he groans into his hands.

He rips his shirt off over his head before falling back again. His chest is hot with anxiety and his nerves crackle with fear of the unknown. His heartbeat is thumping like a beast in a cage.

Jungkook decides to let his frustration out in the best way he knows how. He kicks his pants off and pulls his boxers down, spitting into his hand to lube himself. A sigh of relief breaks from his chest as soon as he feels his hand around his cock.

He’s not hard yet, not even close. But it’s stupidly easy how fast he gets his blood rushing down to his cock by merely thinking of you. The memory of your voice alone is enough to make him throb.

You looked so gorgeous tonight he thought he was going to totally lose it when he first saw you. The smokey makeup and ponytail were a first for him. He loves the way you look normally, but your sultry eyes and grungy outfit made him want to do nasty fucking things to you. If he could've, he would've bent you over his bike and took you right there in front of everyone. Your goddamn brother included.

His hand falls into a familiar rhythm as he strokes himself. He grunts when his thumb presses down on his head and swipes his precum across it. The rough skin of his hand is nothing compared to your mouth or pussy, but it’s enough to satiate him for now.

“Oh, pretty,” he moans into the air.

His mind conjures images of you for his pleasure. Just yesterday when you were on your knees for him and the other week when he fucked you against the rattling bookshelves of the library. Finally, the first time he ate you out and you cried his name into your hand to keep yourself quiet. You were wearing his glasses that night and he remembers thinking even then that you’d be the end of him.

“My baby.”

Jungkook is coming all over himself before he knows it. He grunts and pants as he fucks himself through his orgasm. Your name leaves his lips in a desperate huff as he finally lets go of his cock and wipes his hand on a nearby towel.

There’s two days before he’ll see you again in class. Jungkook has two days to decide whether or not he’s willing to go up against Dragon fire for you.

Your leg bounces anxiously beneath the desk as you wait for Jungkook to enter the classroom. It’s been two days since you found out he’s a Wolf and your mind has done nothing but spiral. You’re unsure how to feel or even what you have the right to feel.

Is it technically a betrayal when neither of you knew about one another? It’s not like you asked him if he happens to be affiliated with any gangs. You should’ve. You freaking should’ve because now it’s biting you in the ass.

When he does finally enter, he looks like the normal Jungkook again. No piercings. Tattoos covered. Sexy nerd glasses on. It pisses you off more than it should.

He doesn’t say anything to you as he takes his seat and you don’t dare to steal a glance at him. The two of you move in tension-thick silence before the professor starts the class.

It’s a grueling hour and a half as you refrain from looking over or touching him. Normally, he forces his leg up against yours until you finally give in and play footsie with him. If not that, you gently graze his arm up and down, absentmindedly, as the professor drones on about whatever topic he’s covering that day.

Class ends as your professor erases the chalkboard behind him. You stand abruptly and speed walk out of the room. If he doesn’t want to talk to you, then you won’t talk to him. It’s simple, and you pretend your heart isn’t shattering in your chest.

The call of your name stops you in your tracks. When you look back, Jungkook is jogging after you. When he reaches you, he stands at an awkwardly long distance away. Your eyebrows lift and you gesture with your hand for him to get on with it.

“Can we talk?”

You don’t reply, just turn on your heel and walk in the opposite direction. That is, the direction of the parking lot. He follows behind but leaves an obnoxious amount of space. It’s infuriating how his obvious respect for your boundaries gives you butterflies. He unlocks his car with a click and you aggressively plop down in the front seat. Making a show of crossing your arms over your chest and flipping your hair from your eyes.

Jungkook slides into the driver’s side with ease and turns on the heat before turning towards you. You look at him expectantly but he gestures for you to start.

“You’re in a gang,” you state matter-of-factly. “You have tattoos, an entire sleeve, I might add. You have piercings. You’re a fucking Wolf.”

Jungkook nods, licking his lip before he responds.

“That’s all true, yeah,” he says.

“What the fuck, Jungkook?” You finally face him. “You’re a graduate student with your entire life ahead of you. What are you doing running around with those losers?” You groan in frustration. “I mean, you’re like a delinquent Hannah Montana or some shit.”

Jungkook smiles at that. He does a once over of your face before inhaling.

“When my parents died I didn’t have anywhere to go. I was already 18. I grew up with Jimin and he offered me a place to stay at the Wolf’s Den. Rest is history,” he explains. You watch his eyes as he tells his story. “I didn’t plan on going to college. I barely passed high school, anyway. But my parents left me money and put instructions in their will that it was to go to my schooling. I couldn’t let it go to waste. Couldn’t let them down.”

Your hand is grabbing his before you register yourself doing it. Rolling up his shirtsleeve to his elbow, you finally reveal his tattoos before your own eyes. Your fingers trace the intricate details of the artwork. He grabs your wrist in return and you feel his hand shaking.

“How did they die?”

“Drunk driver,” he answers.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper. You pull his shirt back down and lace your fingers with his. “But I’m sure they’re very proud of you.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” he admits.

You take his face in your hand and force him to look at you.

“Jungkook, you're the top of our class. You can be anything you want to be or do anything you want to do.” you say. “If that’s not something to be proud of, I’m not sure what is.”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s not leading anywhere after this,” he replies.

“Why not? Do you seriously want to be involved in this stuff forever? The violence and the rivalries and all the bullshit,” you ask as your voice raises.

“I’ve never known a life other than this, Y/N! The Wolves are my family. I don’t have anyone else,” he matches your volume.

You pull away from him with a huff. You’re not sure why you’re so determined to convince him to do something more with his life. But if you have to guess, you imagine it’s because you’re trying and failing to do so yourself.

“You have me,” you admit quietly into the air between you. It’s a weighted confession. A piece of your true feelings on display for him to see.

Jungkook’s hand cradles your jaw and he looks at you so adoringly that you want to shy away. His thumb is brushing back and forth across your cheekbone. It’s the most gentle affection he’s ever shown you.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “I have you.”

He’s kissing you before you even register it. You moan happily against his lips as they move delicately across your own. Jungkook usually handles you like wants to break you, but the way he kisses is the exact opposite. His mouth and his warmth are mending things he wasn’t the one to break. Your hands snake around his neck to pull him closer and he moans when your fingers thread through his hair.

It’s only your first kiss even after all the time you’ve spent together. It’s magical and romantic and you never want it to end.

Jungkook grabs you by the waist to pull you into his lap. Your back hits the steering wheel and the horn honks. You giggle into each other’s mouths but never once stop kissing. You’re both smiling and it causes your teeth to clash, but not even that stops you.

Jungkook deepens the kiss, his tongue tracing your bottom lip before slipping it into your mouth. It tangles with your own as he pulls on the hair trapped between his fingers.

“I shouldn’t be doing this,” he admits against your lips. “Your brother… he’ll kill me.”

“Then why are you?” You murmur before trailing kisses across his sharp jaw.

“Because I want you too bad to stay away,” he answers. “I want you all the time, baby.”

Your lips meet his again and the kiss grows desperate. Shifting in his lap to move closer, you run your hands up and down the planes of his chest.

“You have me, Jungkook. I’m yours,” you reveal.

He pulls back with a shake of his head.

“Not just like this. Not just sex. I want movie dates and sleepless nights. I want to hold your hand and take you out to dinner. I want all of you, Y/N.” He pushes your hair from your face. His eyes are brimming with adoration and melancholy. “But I don’t know how to do that when you are who you are.”

Your hands grip his shirt as your head falls against his chest. You release a shaky exhale as your mind shuffles through the millions of emotions in your head. It settles on sorrow. Jungkook holds you close to him, cradling you in his arms.

“I don’t want to lose you,” you confess. “I care about you so much.”

You feel Jungkook pressing a kiss to your hair and it makes you squeeze your eyes shut in pain. He’s everything you could ever want and yet nothing you can ever have.

“I care about you, too, pretty,” he whispers. “So, so much.”

“If this is the last time…” your voice trails off, but Jungkook understands.

He maneuvers you over him and works to move both your clothes out of the way. All while kissing you again and again anywhere he can reach. Your lips, cheeks, nose, jaw, chin. He’s trying to savor this and commit it to memory before it’s gone forever. Before you’re gone.

His fingers move along your slit, gathering your wetness before bringing it up to your clit. You moan into his mouth and buck your hips against his hand. He expertly massages your pussy in a way only he knows how until you’re wet enough to take him.

Jungkook stops kissing you momentarily so he can see what he’s doing when he lines himself up. His cock enters you slowly, but you can feel every ridge and curve of him as you sink down deeper into his lap. He kisses your neck as you begin to bounce on him. Your nails bite into his skin as you use his shoulders for leverage.

It doesn’t take long for you both to come, Jungkook’s seed warming you from the inside and bringing forth your own orgasm. The entire time you never once stop kissing, because you’re making up for lost time and saying goodbye all at once.

Except the goodbye never comes. There’s an attempt, and you go one time seeing each other without hooking up, but that’s the only time. The next time you’re in class together, almost the very second it ends, Jungkook is pushing you into an empty classroom. He kisses you until you can’t see straight, then eats you out and fucks you on the professor’s desk. After that, you both realize you’re too weak for each other to ever stay away.

Things go on like that for a while, a few months at most. You don’t talk about the massive elephant in the room when you’re together. Just touch and kiss each other to your heart's content like it isn’t the most dangerous game you’ll ever play.

The realization that Namjoon is aware of your entanglements comes after he suggests a ride together down to the bay, a familiar place you used to go as teenagers. You don’t question it because it’s been a while since you’ve spent some real time together and your brother is a bigger softie than anyone is allowed to know.

You ride along the shoreline together before he stops the bike in the middle of some abandoned buildings a few yards from the bay. Ships are docking for the night and some children play around the rocky shore with their parents close by.

“Aren’t we going over there?” You ask, pointing to the usual spot.

Namjoon shakes his head.

“Gotta show you something first,” he tells you.

Taking your hand, he leads you towards one of the buildings. You watch him quizzically as he pries open one of the rusted doors and holds it open for you. He stands back to allow you to take in the scene.

You don’t realize it’s him at first because his head is down. All you notice is two Dragon lackeys holding someone taut between them as they wait for instruction at the center of the room. But then he pushes against their restraints, grunting and tugging on their arms as hard as he can and you gasp in horror.

You’re running to him before you can think twice. Your hands instinctively reach out for his face, lifting it so you can see him properly. He already has a swollen black eye and a busted lip.

Your pupils shake as tears form in your eyes.

“Let him go,” you command.

Namjoon walks in slowly and takes his time examining the scene before him. Maybe this is a test to see if the rumor he heard was true. Clearly, you failed.

“Can’t do that, bug,” Namjoon says from behind you. “Wolves who touch what doesn’t belong to them pay the price.”

“It’s not like that, Joonie,” you snap. You push some of Jungkook’s hair away from his face. He’s looking at you like you’re the only thing giving him air to breathe. You shake your head, hoping he can read your mind that is screaming I’m sorry.

“What’s it like then?” Namjoon crosses his arms across his chest.

“He’s in my graduate class. I didn’t even know he was a Wolf at first,” you say.

Namjoon steps forward so he’s next to you and tugs on your arms so you let go of Jungkook. You take a tentative step away, not recognizing the look in your brother’s eyes.

“Hmm, and when you found out… what did you do?”

“I…”

“When you found out the man you’d been sleeping with was a goddamn fucking Wolf, what did you do, Y/N?” He shouts.

He’s never spoken to you like this. Has never even raised his voice at you. You don’t have an answer for him. You can’t look him in the eye and admit you willingly betrayed him.

Namjoon sneers at your silence. He motions for the men to drop Jungkook and he falls to his knees with a grunt. Your body involuntarily steps towards him until Namjoon shoots you a murderous glare.

Jungkook looks up at the leader of the Dragons from where he kneels before him. You can’t see his expression, but you can tell from his body language he’s resigned to his fate.

Your brother throws a punch to Jungkook’s face and it connects with a crack. You can’t stop yourself from looking away and snapping your eyes shut. Jungkook spits out blood before Namjoon is forcing him by the jaw to look up at him again.

“You really thought you could get away with it, didn’t you?” Namjoon punches him in the same spot again and you bury your face in your hands.

Your brother is relentless in his assault. He just punches and punches until his knuckles split and Jungkook’s face is covered in blood and open wounds. You don’t look up. Your head is too heavy with the guilt to even attempt it.

You’re sobbing into your hands as you listen to the bone-crushing noise. It repeats and repeats like Satan’s broken record. You’re completely helpless to do anything but stand by in terror.

Namjoon lets go of where he’s holding him by his shirt and Jungkook immediately falls over, catching himself with his hands as he pants and tries to inhale through his busted nose and mouth.

Instantly, you’re on your knees in front of him, cradling his head to your chest as you try to wipe the blood with your shirt.

Jungkook groans into you, his hands weakly coming around your waist to hold onto you. You’re crying so hard you can barely see straight, but you force yourself to do anything you can to help him.

“Y/N,” Jungkook moans against your shirt and you bend your head to kiss his hair. “S’okay.” His words only bring forth more tears.

“No, it’s not,” you sob.

Namjoon pulls you away from him by your arm before nodding at the two men. The Dragons begin to kick and punch Jungkook in his ribs, chest, and stomach. It only takes a few hits before Jungkook’s weight gives out and he crashes to the floor. They continue relentlessly.

“No! No, please!” You turn towards your brother while still on your knees. The sound of Jungkook being beaten is piercing your eardrums and throwing off your equilibrium. “Please, Joonie, make them stop.” You grab onto your brother’s legs and sob against him. “Please, I’ll do anything. Just stop hurting him.”

Namjoon forces your head up. He looks so disgusted at your pathetic display of affection for someone he’s raised you to hate.

“Why should I?” His voice is pure venom.

“Because… because I love him, Namjoon,” you admit for the first time out loud.

Your brother’s eyes turn razor sharp. He gazes towards where his men are still having their fill with Jungkook’s battered body.

“Stop,” he orders them. The room goes eerily quiet. Your heart only continues beating because you can hear Jungkook wheezing out breath. He’s still alive. That’s all that matters. “I’ll stop if you swear to me you’ll never see or speak to him ever again.”

“I swear, Namjoon,” you reply without missing a beat.

“If you disobey me,” he threatens. “I won’t have a choice, do you understand?” You nod. “Say you understand, Y/N.”

“I understand,” you shout back.

He steps away from you and you collapse onto your hands. Grabbing you by the shoulder he yanks you up and orders his men to leave first. You don’t look back as he drags you from the warehouse and shuts the door behind him.

When you return home, you run upstairs to the safety of your bedroom. Cradling your phone in your shaky hands, you find the number Jungkook input for emergencies only. Namjoon deleted Jungkook’s contact from your phone as soon as you left the warehouse, but he doesn't know you have a different Wolf’s number, too.

The phone rings three times before someone answers.

“Hello?” You’ve never heard the voice on the other end before.

“Is this Jimin?”

“Who’s asking?” He sounds rightfully suspicious.

“Listen, I know I’m probably the last person you want to hear from right now, but you have to go to the warehouse district by the bay. Jungkook he’s… he’s hurt really bad, okay? He needs your help,” you explain through fresh tears. “Please, you have to help him.”

“Is this who I think it is?”

“Please, Jimin. He’s in the building with the blue door and green-tinted windows,” you tell him. “Hurry.”

You cut the line before he can ask you anything further. The only thing you can do is fall into your bed and wail as you pray his friends make it in time.

Jungkook can’t move from his spot on the cold concrete floor. He tries; tries using his hands to pull himself up but he just falls back with a thump. His breath is coming out of him in thin wheezes and every time he inhales he feels a sharp tug as his lungs. He knows he’ll die here if someone doesn’t find him, which is highly unlikely.

Despite his injuries causing every nerve ending in his body to sizzle and burn, all he can think about is you. Your sobs and pleas and how quiet your voice was when you admitted you love him. It’s pathetic how undeniably happy he was in that moment even as his lungs were caving in and his ribs were splintering.

You love him enough to let him go. Jungkook doesn’t know if he himself is that strong. If in your place he would be able to swear the same way you did. He hopes so, that somehow a piece of your virtue has rubbed off on him through your time together.

He hears the door creak open and his first thought is that Namjoon sent his goons back to finish the job. But then he’s being lifted from the floor and familiar voices filter in through his waning consciousness.

“Fuck, kid,” Taehyung curses as he rolls Jungkook over to examine his injuries. “What did you get yourself into?”

Jungkook grasps at his side as the pain splinters across his back and chest. The pain is scalding and it radiates across his entire body in waves that threaten to pull him under.

“Is he breathing?” Jimin’s voice rings out.

“Yeah. His eyes aren’t open, though. Don’t know if he even can with how bad his face is,” Taehyung explains to his companion.

Jimin curses when he sees his younger friend’s condition. He has to look away for a moment, unable to tolerate seeing his little brother like this.

“I’ll fucking kill those bastards,” he grits his teeth, sneering.

“No, you won’t,” Taehyung sighs. “This is penance. Jungkook is lucky he’s alive right now.”

The two men end their conversation to help Jungkook up from the floor. It isn’t easy. There’s blood everywhere and Jungkook screams in agony as they jostle his broken body around to carry him. He’s heavier than both of them combined and if it weren’t for Taehyung’s recent time spent at the gym, it would be physically impossible.

Taehyung ends up carrying him back to back, with Jungkook lying as flat as possible while Taehyung takes slow, heavy steps towards the door. Jimin carries his feet gently behind them since their similar heights leave the bottom half of Jungkook’s legs dragging on the floor.

Somehow, they make it out and get him into the backseat of the car where they’ve laid towels and sheets down to soak up the blood. Jungkook groans endlessly as the car flies through the city streets towards the hospital.

His friends know he has an emergency fund set up by his parents they can use to pay for his admission. If he didn’t, his fate would be up to whatever member of their gang has the most medical experience.

Jungkook spends the next two weeks in the hospital. By the time he’s discharged he still can’t open his left eye, has more than 100 stitches, and is wrapped up like a mummy to help his bones and muscles heal. His ribs punctured his lungs so he’s on medication to insure he can breathe properly. He’ll be sequestered to his bed per doctor’s orders for at least two months. Luckily, the semester just ended, so he won’t miss any classes while he’s recovering.

His gang members take care of him and help him in any way they can, but they can only assist with his physical injuries. There’s nothing anyone can do about his broken heart.

He lies in bed day and night, just staring at his ceiling as he daydreams about you being here to care for him. Your warm hands brushing his hair out of his face and your lips pressing a peck to his cheek. Jungkook swears he can hear you giggling as you tell him he “still looks handsome, even like this.”

Jungkook knows in his bones that you were a mistake. He should’ve cut things off when he had the chance after he found out who you are. And yet, he can’t bring himself to think of you as such. It’s impossible for him to regret even a single moment of the time he spent with you.

Every minute he’s awake he wonders what you’re doing and if you’re alright. Are you enjoying your time off from school? What activities and hobbies do you enjoy when you’re alone? Are you missing him the way he’s missing you?

It’s ironic, but he also hopes you aren’t still angry with your brother. Being a leader means doing what you have to do and Jungkook hopes you can forgive him. He knows how much Namjoon means to you and he can’t live with himself knowing he’s the thing that’s driving a wedge between you.

When he’s asleep, he dreams of you, and there are varying types of them. There are beautiful, soft, soothing dreams where he just gets to hold you and listen to your voice talk about nothing at all. Ones where he gets to confess that he loves you, too, and that he wants to be with you more than anything in the world. Then there’s the sexy, unbridled, wet dreams that have him gasping and sweating when he wakes up. He dreams of you on top of him as you whisper how much you need him into his ear. There’s another where he’s pounding you into his mattress as he kisses your neck, shoulders, and tits. He doesn’t even know what your actual breasts look like; he never got the chance to see you like that. One night his mind combines both the hard and soft and he dreams up an entire day spent with you. Where he takes you out for dinner and a movie, then brings you back to his place to worship your body, falls asleep with you on his chest, and then wakes up to do it all over again. Jungkook wonders if he should just sleep all the time so he can be with you.

His reality without you is bleak, grave, and dark. There’s no light in his world anymore and he doesn’t know how long he can go without seeing you or hearing your voice.

Jungkook makes a full recovery before the next semester starts. Luckily, he doesn’t have too many scars on his face anymore from the incident. When he looks in the mirror, it finally looks like him staring back again.

On the first day of classes Jungkook prays you’re in the same one again, but he doesn’t see you anywhere. His eyes constantly scan the hallways and classrooms for any sign of you, but to no avail. It’s killing him not knowing where you are.

He spends his days anxiously bouncing his knee below the desk as he attempts to listen to his professors. Sometimes, he’ll see a glimmer of someone who could be you, only to find out it’s not, and fall back into his usual disappointment.

By the time he does see you again, six months have passed. He wishes the reunion had been happy, or that it was even a reunion at all. Instead it’s just him, standing at the entrance of the building as he watches you race in the opposite direction before hopping into a car with a Dragon.

When he gets home he enters with his head down. After getting his first glimpse of you in six months, he isn’t ready to converse with anyone from his gang.

But he doesn’t get the chance to head downstairs right away.

His gang is congregated in the living room. There’s an intense tension in the air Jungkook doesn’t know how to name. He steps into the room and it feels like the air gets sucked out of it. As if everyone is suddenly statues in a graveyard. Jimin and Taehyung eye him carefully as he walks forwards towards their leader.

Bangchan is conversing intensely with some of his right hand men, but he turns towards Jungkook when he notices him approaching. Chan clears his throat and grabs the younger man’s shoulder, then he speaks a truth that has Jungkook’s heart sinking in his chest.

“Kim Namjoon is dead.”

You’re a zombie among the living and you have been for some time now. Ever since Jungkook was forcefully ripped from your life, you’re a shell of the woman you once were. The time off from school moves like honey dripping from a spoon as you spend every waking moment wondering how he’s doing. You don’t even know if he’s alive or not.

There’s a tsunami of relief that moves through you when you find out he’s alive and fully recovered. You only know because you hear some girls in the library talking about him once classes start back up. The jealousy from their whispers about him doesn’t have anywhere within you to take root. The soil of your heart is salted and rotting.

Every single day you fight the urge to go to him, but you refuse to risk his life again. The pain of missing him is incomprehensible. You feel it in your heart and lungs as they work overtime to soothe the ache of being apart. But none of it even comes close to the nightmares and memories of hearing his bones break and his breathing wane. Night terrors overtake you for months following the incident. Images of him bleeding and broken in a heap on the floor while you stand helpless to stop it.

You haven’t spoken a single word to Namjoon since that night. He tries, but you shut yourself in your room or leave the house entirely. You haven’t heard your brother’s deep and melodious voice in six months now. You’re uncertain if you have the strength within you to forgive him. Maybe one day, once the Dragons and the Wolves are just a distant nightmare you never have to experience again.

The day starts like any other. Yoongi drops you off at the university and you thank him before heading to class. The topics and lectures are boring, per usual, as you doodle in your notebook alongside the actual notes you take. You’re out of focus these days but you manage to keep your grades up. It’s hard without your study buddy.

The call comes a little before your last lecture is supposed to start. It’s Seokjin, and you know something is wrong as soon as you answer.

“You need to come home. Something’s happened,” he says.

“Seokjin, I don’t —”

“It’s Joonie,” his voice breaks.

Your heart sinks into an abyss so deep you’re certain it will never rise again.

You’re running before the call even drops. The last thing Seokjin tells you is that Yoongi is waiting for you at the entrance. Propelling your feet forward even though you want to collapse, you bolt out of the building and make it to Yoongi’s car in an instant.

Yoongi is speeding off before the door has had time to shut. He doesn’t say anything. Just stares straight ahead with tears rolling down his face like rain.

When you reach the house, the silence seems to stretch infinitely. There are no birds chirping or trees billowing in the wind. It’s absolutely stone cold silent. You wonder if the apocalypse came while you were in the car. The door to the house creaks open and the sound of people breathing and the AC blasting is somehow deafening in comparison.

Your feet move on their own because your mind is too busy hiding from what it knows is about to come.

Namjoon is lying on the couch with one arm falling limp over the edge of the cushion. He looks like he’s taking one of his infamous naps. The ones that always happen after he’s been reading for too long. The only thing missing from the scene is an open book lying across his chest. You stop a few feet away and stare at his chest, the one you spent your entire childhood lying on and slapping whenever he made you angry. You will it to move with your mind, imagine it rising and falling and attempt a manifestation of the sight into reality. After counting to ten without seeing it rise, you collapse.

A scream rips out of your throat as you bring your forehead to the hardwood floor beneath you. Your entire body is shaking so violently that the zippers on your clothes rattle. Someone who smells like Hoseok comes behind you, holding you up against him as you sob hard enough to make yourself sick.

“No,” you wail helplessly into his shoulder.

Hoseok releases you when you begin to push against his hold. You crawl towards your brother on your hands and knees. When you reach him you caress his face and push his hair out of his eyes. He hates it when it gets in his eyes.

“Joonie,” you whisper to only him. “Joonie, you gotta wake up.” You gasp for air. “I need my big brother. Please, please, for me, you have to wake up.”

He doesn’t respond. You already know he can’t. It doesn’t matter. You’ll speak nonsense to him until his body begins to decay.

Throwing yourself on top of him, you cry into his bloodstained clothes. He’s still warm even though he’s hard to the touch. You aren’t sure if there’s a scientific explanation or if your brother’s soul is just so warm that it left behind a signature.

No one moves. Every member of the Dragons just watches in agony as you mourn your brother. Their beloved leader.

You want to die. You want to take one of the switchblades amongst the men in the room and slit your throat. Let your blood congeal with your brother’s and have them bury you together.

Namjoon probably wants to force his way out the afterlife, barreling through anyone in his path, even God himself, just to yell at you for even thinking about it. He raised you to be strong, but you don’t know what strength is without him.

His three best friends help you up once your cries subside into dry whimpers. They help you walk, one with his arm around your waist, the other two with their arms around your shoulders and arm, up the stairs to your room.

As gently as three gang members can, they lay you in your bed. Yoongi takes your shoes off for you and Hoseok pulls the blankets over you.

You grab Seokjin’s hand before they have a chance to leave.

“Please don’t… don’t move him yet,” you croak through your sore vocal chords. “I need to be there. It should be up to me how we… how we bury him.”

Seokjin assures you they won’t as tears fall from his eyes. The two of you share a meaningful glance. A secret only the three of you shared and will be buried along with your brother.

Your tears put you to sleep. It’s completely dreamless. Just black, empty darkness that feels infinite. You wonder if this endless void is your new reality.

The sound of knocking is what wakes you up. You’re still in delirium as you sit up and attempt to find the source of the sound. When you do, you gasp, pulling the covers away and springing from the bed.

You push your window up, reaching your hand out for the guest hanging onto your ledge with his fingertips.

Jungkook steps into your room one leg at a time, ducking down so he fits through the opening. When he stands to his full height, you think you’re still dreaming. It isn’t until he speaks that you realize you aren’t.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I had to see you, I couldn’t —”

Your mouth clips his sentence in half. Hands tugging at his shirt, you pull him into you as you kiss him. He’s still as a statue at first, confusion evident in the way his brow creases. But then you feel his hands on your waist and he pulls you closer, matching the rhythm of your mouth against his.

Your foreheads touch as you exhale into the air between you. Eyes still closed, you let the feeling of him and his warmth take you under and into his current.

“I missed you,” you say. Jungkook’s hands squeeze your hips. “I missed you so much, Jungkook.”

Your head drops to his shoulder as you cry. He pulls you into him and holds you there with his hand against your head. He combs his fingers through your hair and kisses down the side of your face. Anything he can think to do to bring you some sort of comfort.

“I’m here, pretty,” he tells you. “Not going anywhere.”

He guides you over to your bed as your breathing levels out again. You sit next to one another and Jungkook caresses your hand. Every once in a while bringing it to his lips to kiss your knuckles one by one.

With your free hand you grab his chin, turning his face back and forth before you breathe out a laugh.

“You’re still so handsome,” you say after analyzing his features. The scars embedded in his honey skin are faint. “I almost forgot how handsome you are.”

Jungkook shakes his head.

“I knew you’d say something like that,” he responds. He pulls you closer so your knees touch. The silent moments between you are comfortable. You don’t need to speak, just be near. After a while Jungkook licks his lips and says, “I’m so, so sorry about your brother, Y/N.”

Your hand grips his fingers harder as reality slowly creeps back in.

“I…” you have to inhale before you can continue. “The last time I ever spoke to him was that night.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen and then soften into something that looks like guilt. As if him being brutally beaten was his own doing.

“Baby,” Jungkook calls to you.

You shake your head. There is no going back now and you aren’t sure you would if given the chance. Maybe just to tell Namjoon you love him one more time, but nothing further. His death doesn’t take away from him hurting you.

“I didn’t know if you were dead or alive until classes started again,” you tell him. “I had nightmares every night about what they did to you. The way your bones sounded when they —”

“Hey, don’t do that. I’m right here. I’m fine,” Jungkook reassures you.

“You weren’t fine, though,” you snap. “I wasn’t fine. He took you from me, Jungkook.” You wipe the tears from your cheeks. “I told him my feelings for you and he still made me stay away.”

Jungkook doesn’t have a response because he knows everything you’re feeling isn’t black and white. The grief is mixing with the anger and the sadness into a devastating combination of emotions. So he holds you instead, pulls you across his lap so your thighs are resting on either side of him. Brushes his fingers up your back in a soothing pattern while you rest your head on his shoulder.

After a while of comforting silence, your lips find the mole on his neck. It’s just a tentative kiss at first, but then you’re kissing him harder and sucking on the sensitive skin at the junction of his neck and shoulder. His hands caress your hips tentatively, fingers reaching up and brushing against the skin beneath your top.

“Pretty,” Jungkook sighs. “We don’t have to —”

“I need you, Jungkook,” you say as you face him. You don’t mean it sexually, even though sex is exactly what you’re asking for. The need to feel him close is just so great, that his touch is the only thing that can quell it. It’s been so long since you’ve seen him, heard him, or touched him, and you’re desperate to feel his heartbeat beneath your fingers just so you know he’s here and he’s alive. “Please, baby.”

Jungkook nods and kisses you slowly, tasting you on his tongue as your hips begin to grind against him. His hands guide you across his lap in slow circles. You feel him growing hard, causing you to moan into his mouth. He deepens the kiss with his tongue, cradling your neck to keep your head still as he chases your lips.

Your hands find his shoulders and use the leverage to grind down harder against the evident bulge in his pants. You groan at the feeling of it rubbing against your clit through your clothes. Jungkook growls deep in his throat when you pick up the pace. His lips are all over you. He kisses down your face and across your jaw. Sucks on your neck and drags his tongue along your hot skin before biting into your jugular. Your gasp slowly morphs into a moan.

Jungkook moves away for a split second so he can tug your top over your head. His eyes drop down to your covered chest to see what he’s been dying to all this time. He cups your breasts in his hands, massaging and pushing them together before bending down to kiss the tops of them.

You reach back to unclip your bra and Jungkook moans as it falls away. He’s never gotten to see you like this before; feel your soft skin under his hands like this. Now unimpeached, Jungkook takes one of your nipples in his mouth while twisting the other between his fingers. You throw your head back as you pant in ecstasy.

“Jungkook,” you whine as he gives your other breast the same attention. “Feels so good.”

When he’s done, he kisses his way back up to your lips. Your hand tangles into his long hair and your nails scratch at his scalp. Your free hand tugs at the hem of his top. Jungkook chuckles at your silent signal before removing his shirt with one hand.

Seeing him unobstructed for the first time is pure heaven. Hands tracing over his shoulders and down his chest, scratching your nails across the abs you knew he had. When he pulls you close, the skin to skin contact you’ve been aching for is like jumping into a pool on a hot summer day.

Jungkook’s warm hands are sprawled across your back as your pussy moves expertly against him. Part of you wants to just keep going like this until you both come in your pants, but most of you wants him naked and beneath you in your bed.

Jungkook obliges without needing to be told. He lifts you enough to lie you back and crawls over you, pushing your thighs apart with his knee. You reach for him and he kisses your fingers before meeting you again at your lips. His hands are working your jeans off you while he ravishes your lips and jaw.

When they’re off, he sits back on his heels to look at you. This is the sight he’s been waiting for and he doesn’t want to miss a second of it. His hands grip your thighs and he squeezes to watch your flesh move between his fingers.

“So beautiful, baby,” he praises you. He starts kissing you again at your collarbones before inching down slowly. After his mouth leaves your breasts he kisses down your stomach. “I love you,” he whispers directly into your skin. You aren’t sure you heard him right, but then he repeats himself as he kisses across your hips. “I love you… I love you… I love you.”

It comes out of his mouth like a prayer and you’re his only deity. Bittersweet tears roll down your cheeks at his confession. Your fingers thread into his hair as he finally reaches your pussy. He kisses you once on your mound before pulling your underwear down your legs so he can taste you.

He kisses you slowly, reverently. At first it’s so soft and light you barely feel him, but then his tongue swipes across your folds and you moan desperately. His hands grip the back of your thighs to pull you closer, burying his face into your cunt. He groans in pleasure, his mouth and tongue alternating between licking and kissing you while his nose teases your clit.

“Fuck, I missed you,” he grunts as he dives back in for more.

You’re a complete mess above him. Hair strewn haphazardly across the pillow, nipples swollen and erect, panting out breaths with dried tears all down your face.

Jungkook moves to suck on your clit and then kitten licks at it, using a finger to push your hood back and drive you into oversensitivity. You cover your mouth with your hand to scream into it. Your hips chase his mouth and he lets you. He just moans into your cunt as you ride his face.

Jungkook grips you tighter to still you, not letting you grind anymore so he can go into overdrive against your hole. He fucks you with his tongue and then licks all the way up to your clit before staying there. He flattens his tongue against the nub and moves his face back and forth. Pulls back and spits directly on it before rubbing it in with the tip of his tongue.

Your orgasm pulls you beneath the waves of ecstasy and you welcomely drown in it. It happens without warning, but Jungkook already knows. He knows your body like it’s his own and he growls as you come on his face and he drinks every last drop.

Gasping for any air you can find, Jungkook kisses across your thighs and bites at your flesh. You grab him by the shoulder to bring him back to you. You taste yourself on his lips, your cum smearing across the bottom half of your face.

Your hands are quick to undo Jungkook’s belt and pull down the zipper of his jeans. You start palming him through his boxers before his pants are fully off. He groans into your mouth before kissing your neck and biting at your earlobe, letting his tongue trace the perimeter of it.

You want to see him fully and appreciate him in all his glory, so you use your legs to wrap around his own and flip him onto his back. He looks a little shocked at you doing anything even remotely dominant, but the fire in his eyes tells you exactly how much he loves it.

His neck is your first target as you lick the sweaty skin and press wet kisses all over his throat and shoulder. As your lips move down his torso, your hands follow closely behind, digging your nails into his skin and creating red marks in their wake. He grunts and bucks his hips as you finish your assault on his delicious abdominal muscles. Your eyes roll back when you count eight of them.

You pull his boxers down and off, all without ever breaking eye contact. Crawling back over him, you take in his entire body laid before you for the first time. He’s so beautiful you could cry.

Pumping his cock with your warm hand, you move to taste him when he stops you with a hand to your shoulder.

“No, pretty,” he starts. “It’s not about me tonight. Just wanna make you feel good.” You pout and he soothes you by sitting up and pushing your hair away from your face. “Will you let me?” He kisses you softly, but with all his devotion. “Let me make love to you?”

You close your eyes and nod. He kisses the skin of your eyelids adoringly before lying you beneath him again. Jungkook doesn’t waste any time. His cock is teasing your clit while he swipes through your folds to lube himself with your cum. He thrusts into you slowly, letting you adjust to the feel of him again after so long apart.

Your nails rake down his back and across his shoulders as he splits you apart on his cock. You can feel him throbbing deep inside your walls and it’s as though your entire body was created for this very moment.

When you don’t show any signs of discomfort, Jungkook begins thrusting in and out of you at a steady pace. He lays on top of you with his forearms carrying his weight. His body is so familiar and yet everything feels brand new.

Your legs wrap around his stupidly tiny waist and an actual laugh escapes you. His questioning eyes find yours.

“What do you have such a small waist for, huh? It’s unfair. It’s smaller than mine,” you explain.

Jungkook tsks at you before kissing your cheek.

“Your waist is perfect,” he says. “You’re fucking perfect.”

His thrusts are slower than normal, but just as deep. The motion pushes you up the bed each time he enters your pussy and Jungkook has to use his hands to protect your head from hitting the headboard. He grinds his hips down in conjunction with his strokes and it forces his cock right into your g-spot.

Your moans are just one endless stream of sound because it feels too heavenly to do anything else. His name filters between them to create a melody meant only for his ears.

His body is bringing you forms of pleasure you’ve never experienced with anyone else and yet you care more about the feeling of his warm body against yours. It’s his skin and sweat, the goosebumps on his arms, his hair tickling your face, that truly means the most to you. He’s here in your arms, heart beating up against your own and it almost brings tears to your eyes again. You almost lost him.

You aren’t able to focus on your sentiments for much longer because he pulls back and lifts your ankles to his shoulders and then bends you in half, the back of your thighs touching his chest.

“Oh fuck, baby,” you gasp. The push and pull of Jungkook’s dick at this angle has your nails nearly puncturing the skin of his shoulder.

“I got you, pretty,” he states.

He kisses your calf next to his face and you feel warm all over. Through your legs you can see the way his thick cock comes out coated in your essence before it disappears into you again. Jungkook is watching the same way you are, his mouth open in awe of how well your pussy sucks him in over and over.

The position is too good for your mind to fully comprehend, but you need him closer. You want your skin pressed together as one in every possible place it can. You grab at him and he gets the message, letting your legs fall back to his hips. His elbows are next to your ears as he stretches your hole open for him repeatedly.

His cock fills you so perfectly that you feel every ridge and vein against your velvet walls. The friction is debilitating and sends your mind into a frenzy. You’re crying tears of pleasure that Jungkook kisses away before devouring your mouth. Gripping his ass, you thrust up against him in an attempt to sink him deeper inside you even though you swear you feel him in your stomach already.

It’s not enough. Nothing with Jungkook will ever feel like enough when your body wants him so insatiably. But right now, you need more.

“Jungkook,” you pant. He makes a sound of affirmation as he mouths at your jaw. “Stop playing nice.”

Jungkook lifts his head to look at you. He raises an eyebrow and tilts his head to give you a chance to take back your instruction. You stare him down with a matching intensity instead.

The sound of his deep chuckle is right next to your ear and your heart races in anticipation.

In an instant, your hands are forced above your head by one of his own, crossing your wrists over each other and lacing his fingers between the ones he can reach. He pushes at them once, as if telling you not to try anything. When you open your mouth to moan, Jungkook crashes into your lips and spits into your mouth. You’re gasping as you swallow his saliva. His free hand teasingly traces your skin from your hip to your knee, creating fiery goosebumps along your flesh, before he grabs you by the knee and forces your leg up higher on his hip, creating an even closer angle.

He rears back slowly, leaving just his tip in for a lingering moment. Jungkook waits until you whine pathetically at the emptiness, your hips bucking up in desperation. Your pussy clenches around nothing as it begs for him to come back home. Once there are tears pricking at your eyes and he thinks you’ve waited long enough, he slams into you so hard your vision goes out.

He clasps his hand over your mouth before you can scream. His pace is downright fucking demonic as he pistons his cock into you. You’re screaming and drooling against his hand as tears wet your cheeks. You cannot comprehend how this is the same man who kissed his love into your stomach and hips. You worry you’ll look up and his eyes will be glowing red with the fires of hell.

This is months of being separated coming to a head. All the fear, rage, depression, and guilt pooling in your stomachs and physically manifesting into a miasma of pleasure. Every thought and worry you felt for one another is pouring over your bodies like acid, burning you in a scorching heat that only the other can quench.

You’re close and Jungkook can tell by the way your cunt flutters around him. His mouth replaces his hand as he kisses you, letting go of your hands above your head so he can grasp your hips. Your arms snake around his back and into his hair, tugging on the strands to pull him away so you can kiss the veins popping out in his neck.

“Need to feel you come, pretty,” he grunts.

A breathy moan is your only response because words are failing you. Jungkook angles your hips up so his tip is kissing you in just the right spot. His thrusts have slowed again but are deeper than ever, so passionate in his pursuit to pleasure you that your orgasm pulls you into a different plane of existence entirely.

Your hand grips Jungkook’s hair impossibly tight as your pussy spasms around him. Jungkook groans loudly, his head tipping back as you come around him.

Jungkook usually loves to fill you up and watch it drip out, but for some reason the need to paint you in his seed overwhelms him. He pulls out and fists his cock as hot spurts of cum fall across your stomach, tits, and thighs.

You moan appreciatively at the feeling and watch in awe at the way it drips from his tip and onto your skin. Instinctively, your mouth opens as you stare into Jungkook’s fucked-out eyes. He hears your message loud and clear, using his fingers to scoop some of his cum from your belly before feeding it to you. You suck it off his fingers without breaking eye contact until you roll your eyes and moan at the taste of him.

Jungkook is panting, his chest rising and falling in ragged breaths as he stares at the mess he made of you.

“Fuck, pretty,” he exhales.

You sit up on your elbows and smile at his artwork across your body.

“You could always lick it off of me, ya know,” you suggest.

Jungkook laughs.

“Don’t get me going again, my love,” he responds. “I’ll fucking ruin you.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?”

Jungkook’s eyes darken and he runs his hands through his hair. After taking a moment to stare you down, he steals your hands and pins them above your head. His lips are touching yours by just a hair when he responds.

“It’s a promise… for another day,” he states.

You pout and he kisses it away before finally leaving you to find something to clean you with. You nod your head towards your en-suite bathroom and he comes back with a warm towel.

You run your fingers through the front of his hair as he delicately wipes his own cum from your soft skin. When he’s done he bends down to kiss your stomach before returning the towel to the bathroom.

When he returns you’re sitting up and pulling a baggy shirt over your head. Jungkook slips on his boxers and sits next to you, pulling your feet into his lap and caressing your ankles.

Fingers fiddling in your lap, you chew on your lip as you think about the path that lies ahead. There is still so much left unanswered and it terrifies you.

You have to bury your brother and the Dragons need a new leader. Your only tie to the gang is now gone. The gang would never kick you out of the house, but without Namjoon you have no reason to be involved in this world. But you also have nowhere else to go.

Then there’s Jungkook, who is a longstanding member of the very gang who is probably responsible for Namjoon’s death. It’s not like they would welcome you into their fray even with him gone. Everyone knows you’re his sister. You love Jungkook and you want to be with him more than anything, but you don’t know a way around all the obstacles still in your path.

Jungkook gently tucks a stray hair behind your ear, his eyes silently questioning if you’re alright. You affirm him with a nod.

He leaves soon after because you still have so much to sort out. Although, not before putting his number back into your phone and kissing you goodbye. He tells you he’ll see you at the university and you can talk more then.

When you return downstairs, Namjoon is covered by a white cloth. You, Seokjin, Yoongi, and Hoseok sit in the kitchen and discuss burial plans. Yoongi has a family friend who runs a funeral home. You finish deciding on the details and a quiet tension fills the room as you all realize what you need to discuss next.

“So, how do we go about finding out who did this?” Hoseok starts the daunting conversation.

“It was obviously the fucking Wolves,” Yoongi snarls.

“Yeah, but not all of them,” you say. “The gang as a whole would never do something so stupid and reckless.”

“You think it was some rogue member?” Seokjin asks.

“That or a small faction who is itching to start a war,” you respond.

“Well they got what they wanted,” Yoongi says as he crosses his arms. “I’m going to Bangchan tomorrow to challenge them to a brawl. On the condition that if they give up the coward who did this, no one else gets hurt.”

“You think it will work?” Hoseok questions.

“Wait, you want more people, our people, to possibly get hurt?” You don’t see the logic in it. The Dragons are already down and out without your brother. A massive brawl between the two gangs will only make things worse.

“Someone has to be punished, Y/N,” Yoongi answers. “I’ll let them decide if it’s one or all of them.”

You know that Yoongi’s decision is final. He was Namjoon’s right hand man and is most likely to take over as leader. But that doesn’t mean you won’t do whatever it takes to stop it from happening.

Jungkook finds you after your classes end for the day. You run straight into his arms when you see him, wrapping yourself around his neck and inhaling his familiar scent. His hands sneak below your shirt and rub soothing circles on your waist and back. He kisses you before you go somewhere private to talk.

Sitting down outside the large double doors of the university, you reach across the wooden table to take his hands. It feels odd, but soothing being here together again after months of not crossing paths. When you glance around, you see the same path you took as you were skipping ahead of him after taking an exam. In the opposite direction, there’s a small cove where Jungkook fingered you and kissed you like he needed it more than oxygen. That was shortly before the incident with your brother. The prettier memories of your relationship are all around you.

Inhaling deeply, you squeeze his hands before telling him everything you know.

“There’s going to be a fight in three days unless the Wolves give up the person or people responsible for Namjoon’s death. If they do, the brawl is off,” you explain.

Jungkook is playing with your fingers as he listens to you.

“That won’t work,” Jungkook states. “We would never give up one of our own even if he did do something as cowardly as murdering someone in cold blood.”

“I know,” you agree. “That’s why we have to figure out who did this before then and give them up ourselves.”

“It won’t be easy, pretty,” Jungkook admits. He lets go and leans back before sighing and running his fingers through his hair. “Everyone knows about you and I. They won’t let anything slip around me or my friends.” You chew on your bottom lip as you contemplate your options. Jungkook watches you before taking a deep breath. “If the brawl goes down… you know I’ll have to be there, right, pretty?”

You nod with a far away look in your eyes.

“I know. That’s why it has to work. I can’t lose you, too,” you whisper without looking at him.

Jungkook kisses the back of your hands, tilting his head to bring your attention to him. His pretty doe eyes are hesitant, not wanting to leave you like this, but you assure him you’re fine before standing.

He still drops you off at the same spot to avoid any unnecessary tension if he’s spotted near the house. You kiss him goodbye through the driver’s side window before venturing home.

Upon returning home, you notice the classical music playing from the stereo before anything else. You recognize the song and already know who’ll be there before entering the room. Seokjin sits with a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a glass of ice in the other. Everyone else must either be out or in their rooms. You sit next to him and gesture for the bottle. He passes it unceremoniously over to you.

“We swore Yoongi in tonight,” Seokjin tells you.

“He’ll do good,” you reply. You look at the bottle and swirl the liquid around inside. “He’s always been prudent.”

“Yeah,” Seokjin sighs.

You put the bottle down and reach for Seokjin’s arm instead. Squeezing it, he looks at you with glassy eyes.

“I miss him already, too,” you breathe.

Seokjin flashes you a hollow smile.

“There was still so much we wanted to do together,” he muses. Seokjin looks down at his hand, stretching his fingers out and flexing it. “He just bought us matching rings. We were gonna wear them on different fingers so no one caught on.”

“Bought? My brother?”

Seokjin genuinely smiles at that.

“Can you believe it? He said he didn’t want something like that to be stolen. That I deserve to be paid for,” Seokjin explains.

You relax against the chair.

“Yeah, that sounds like him,” you say.

“I know you two weren’t on good terms at the time, but it doesn’t change how deeply he loved you,” Seokjin continues.

“I know,” you reply.

“He didn’t…” Seokjin sighs, mulling over his next words carefully. “He was pissed about you sleeping with a Wolf, don’t get me wrong, but he didn’t do what he did out of cruelty. He was our leader. If he looked the other way and people found out, they would've started to doubt his ability to do whatever necessary for the gang.” Seokjin sits forward to meet your eyes. “I know that doesn’t make it any better, but I wanted you to know. He only ever wanted two things for you, Y/N. To be happy and to be safe.”

“Jungkook does both of those things for me,” you say.

“Good,” Seokjin smiles.

You squeeze his arm one last time before leaving him alone with the whiskey bottle.

Time soldiers on with each tick of the clock, every second bringing you closer to the inevitable truth that this brawl is going to happen. Jungkook tells you he’s doing his best, but the truth is harder to scrounge for than originally anticipated.

The truth comes too late.

The night of the brawl, you do what you swore you never would and drive Namjoon’s motorcycle down the unfamiliar streets to the Wolf’s Den. You’re wearing his biker jacket, too. The Dragons had it cleaned and the patches re-embroidered before gifting it to you.

Jungkook meets you at the back of the house and sneaks you into his room in the basement. Despite your terror about tonight, finally seeing his room brings a smile to your face.

“I like it,” you say as you run your fingers down the leather jacket on his chair.

Jungkook takes a seat on the bed while your eyes comb over the pieces of him scattered around the room. A picture of him and his parents, a drawing of an adorable white dog who looks like a cloud, his boxing gloves. It’s comforting being so entirely surrounded by him.

Pulling you by the waist, Jungkook brings you to stand between his legs. His hands caress you from your thighs to your stomach before he leans in and kisses your navel, then rests his forehead against you. You comb your fingers through his hair, admiring the pretty black strands. He hums peacefully at the feeling. Being with him like this makes it easy to forget reality looming on the other side of the door, lying in wait for you to return to it.

“You’ll stay back as much as possible, right? Avoid the big guys?” You ask him.

Jungkook sighs, leaning back on his hands and tracing over your features with his eyes.

“Pretty, you know I can’t do that,” he responds.

Nodding with your lip between your teeth, you avoid his eyes. Anger and fear mix together in your stomach and make you want to be sick. Your brother is dead and now the man you love is on the precipice of the same fate. You already lost him once and you refuse to do it again.

“So, you just…” your sentence dies in your throat. There aren’t enough words to explain the heaviness you feel.

Jungkook stands and brings you to his chest. You hit him to make him let you go, but your body is already betraying you and melting into his embrace. You bury your face into his shirt, inhaling his scent and letting it envelope you in familiarity.

“Please, don’t go,” you beg him. “I love you, Jungkook. I can’t –,” you cut yourself off before your emotions can drown you. “Just… please.”

Jungkook’s fingers use your chin to bring your lips to his. It’s a quick kiss, barely a peck before he moves to kiss the corner of your mouth and then your cheek.

“I love you, too, Y/N. I love you more than I can even comprehend, but this is my family we’re talking about. I have a responsibility to them, too,” he tells you.

You don’t fight him on it anymore. There’s no strength left within you to do so. Your mental fortitude is cracking and crumbling into ash all around you. Most of all, you don’t want what could possibly be your last moments together to happen in anger.

Harsh banging forces you apart as someone tells Jungkook it’s time to go. He cradles your face in his hands and kisses you ardently. It feels like goodbye and tastes like grief. You use his lips as an altar and pray to the angels and the saints and maybe even the demons to keep him safe and bring him home to you unscathed. You promise them you’ll be joining them soon if they don’t.

Jungkook sneaks you back out as the Wolves gather in the road on their idling motorcycles. He leaves you with a final kiss to your lips and forehead, where he whispers how much he loves you one more time.

You watch helplessly as your eyes trace his figure moving further and further away from you. He throws an arm around who you can only assume is Taehyung as Jimin follows closely behind. You don’t look away until you’re unable to follow him any longer. His bike carrying him away from you along with the rest of his gang.

A twig snaps, or maybe fate pulls at your shoulder, and you look up just as a few stragglers are heading to leave. You recognize the familiar face as though you last saw him yesterday, and not over a decade ago. The blood in your veins courses through you at sub-zero temperatures and freezes around your organs.

Realization slams into you with the force of a brick wall. You need to tell the others that you know who took Namjoon from you.

Running across the yard as fast as your legs can carry you, your hands shake as you work to secure your helmet. Your leg swings over the leather seat and you throttle the engine. The bike roars to life and you don’t waste a second before taking off down the street.

One motorcycle can get somewhere a lot faster than twenty five can, but they already have a decent head start.

Your heart is pounding so loud you can hear it in your ears as the buildings fly by in streaks of blurry light. It rained earlier and the water from the road is whipping up at your legs. All of your senses feel overloaded by the anxiety taking root within you.

You have no clue what you’re going to do when reach the gangs, and if the fight has already started, it will be too dangerous to intervene.

Jungkook flashes across your mind, and you can already picture the expression of worry and concern he’ll have when you arrive. He’s going to be so angry with you for putting yourself in harm’s way, and Yoongi, Seokjin, and Hoseok will be the same. You can’t concern yourself with their potential anger right now. All that matters is getting to them.

The brawl is taking place at the old salt mill which still stands on the edge of the city. It’s a massive open air factory built on acres of farmland. The last time you saw it, the steel walls were beginning to tear and the foundation cracking.

Despite its dilapidation, it’s the perfect location for fifty or so men to beat and kill each other without anyone noticing.

The monumental building comes into view in the distance and as you approach you see all the motorcycles lined up along the road.

Parking next to the familiar motorcycles belonging to the Dragons, you grant yourself the reprieve of a single deep breath before diving headfirst into the danger ahead.

The engine has barely begun to cool when you throw your helmet off. Your feet propel you forward across the wet pavement towards the factory. Your shoes meet puddles as you run and the water splashes against your bare legs.

Looking down at your attire, you almost scoff. Namjoon would be so mad at you for not looking the part. You’re about to run into a room of fifty armed men wearing a pleated skirt and frilly pink blouse. At least Namjoon’s jacket still resting on your shoulders makes you look a little bit tougher.

You can just make out the figures amongst the processing equipment and huge piles of salt left behind by the manufacturers. The mountains of salt surround the two gangs and make it look as though they’re in the center of an arena. As you move forward, you see Yoongi and Bangchan standing in the space between the two gangs.

They’re probably discussing the “rules” and deciding which weapons will be allowed. It’s a pointless conversation to make themselves feel better. You’re certain that every man in there brought a gun to this knife fight.

“Wait!” You shout when you’re in earshot, traversing over rusted machinery and scattered salt. You speak again once you’re inside. “Stop!”

Yoongi is looking at you incredulously, his eyes burning with a protective fury. Seokjin and Hoseok mirror his expression from where they stand on the far right and left of the Dragons. Your eyes catch motion in your peripheral vision, and you see Jungkook already moving through the crowd to get to you.

Yoongi grabs your arm and tugs you back into the crowd of Dragons, standing so that his body is shielding you from the Wolves across the room. He opens his mouth to no doubt scold you and demand an explanation, but he doesn’t get the chance. A cacophony of noises and voices stops him.

“Hey –”

“Get off me.”

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Dude, what the hell.”

“Heesung –”

Your eyes widen in horror as you take in the scene over Yoongi’s shoulder. He sees your expression and turns to follow your gaze.

The Wolves have all moved back into a U shape which highlights two figures standing to the left, next to a massive pile of salt. The flood lights on the ceiling bounce off the bright white and bathe the two of them in an unnatural light.

Jungkook jerks his right arm back to get the man holding him across the shoulders to let go. He grunts and tries to elbow him in the stomach, but stops short when he feels something cool and sharp press against his jugular.

There’s a silver glint from where the light catches on the blade pushing against Jungkook’s throat. Your eyes snap shut involuntarily as a paralyzing fear overtakes your nervous system.

“Y/N…” The man sing-songs in a tone so eerie it creeps up your spine like weeds.

You didn’t think this through. Didn’t account for what Heesung would do when he’s backed into a corner.

“Heesung, please let him go,” you beg cautiously, not wanting to make a single miscalculation. “He doesn’t have anything to do with this.”

A wave of confusion crosses over Jungkook’s face at your familiarity with his fellow Wolf.

Heesung laughs at your plea and the knife presses harder against Jungkook’s skin. A single bead of blood trails down his throat.

Jungkook knows he’s stronger than Heesung, that he can overpower him with ease, but he can’t bring himself to fight when he sees you across the room. You’re shaking, your eyes so sorrowful it breaks his heart, and your lip trembles where it’s clenched between your teeth. He has something to live for now, someone to come home to, and he can’t risk Heesung’s knife going anywhere it shouldn’t.

“Doesn’t he?” Heesung retorts. “He is your lover, yes? So I should kill him, too, just like I killed Namjoon and leave you with no one so you’ll be just like me.”

His confession permeates through the air, stunning both gangs into a weighted silence. You feel Yoongi go stiff by your side.

“No,” you whimper. “You can just take me instead. That would be enough, right? Enough revenge? Enough penance for what we did to you?”

“Y/N,” Jungkook snaps at you, but Heesung shushes him.

Heesung studies you for a moment before shaking his head, the knife pressing down again and making Jungkook gasp for air.

“No, Y/N. Nothing will ever be enough,” Heesung snarls.

Time seems to slow once the words leave him, because before anyone in the room can even take their next breath, a gunshot rings out.

“No!”

Your scream is nearly simultaneous with the gunshot itself, following it by only a millisecond.

Your view of Jungkook and Heesung gets forcefully taken from you in an instant. The only thing you see is blood splattering and dispersing into the air where their heads were a moment ago. The ricochet and a body falling to the floor sends salt up into the air and covers the entire scene in a white cloud.

There are no words for the emotions that overtake you in the moment before the blood and salt settle. It feels like fear at first, but the word is too small in comparison. Panic, terror, dread, none of them are heavy enough. Grief moves in like fog across the morning air. You wait with bated breath to see if it will break and the sun will peak through the clouds.

Someone coughs, and then they stumble out from the cloud of salt with ragged breaths and wide eyes. He’s covered in blood splatter, the thick liquid matting down his hair and soiling his shirt, but it’s clear none of it is his own.

“Jungkook!”

Your feet can’t bring you to him fast enough. When they do, you throw your arms around his neck as your entire body shakes. Jungkook is still delirious, the gunshot throwing off his equilibrium. But then he feels your warmth against him, grounding him, and his arms latch around your waist.

“It’s okay. I’m alright,” he assures you. His hand sinks into your hair as he pulls you closer, causing your back to arch into him and your heels to lift from the floor. He kisses across your temple, cheek, and hairline.

Your very soul releases a sigh of relief as you sink deeper into his embrace.

The sound of a pistol chamber clicking back into place catches your attention. As the salt slowly falls to the ground like snow, you turn your head to see Seokjin standing behind it. He’s cleaning the gun with a rag as he looks at the body before him in disgust.

“Seokjin,” you say to grab his attention.

He looks up at you with the tiniest of smiles on his lips. If you didn’t know the features of his face you wouldn’t be able to notice it. It’s solemn and peaceful, like he’s finally laying something to rest.

“Didn’t mean to ruin the fun, but that asshole was really pissing me off,” he states. “Can we call this an eye for an eye and be done, Bangchan? I’m not sure you want someone willing to kill one of his own in your ranks anyway.”

Bangchan looks so utterly confused at the whole display that he has to shake his head before gathering his thoughts.

“Yeah,” he finally answers. “We’re done here.”

His words give way for the Wolves to mosey out of the factory, their whispers of confusion following them out to the road. Yoongi tells the Dragons to get home, too, before making his way over to where you’re still clinging to Jungkook.

“You want to tell me what the hell just happened?”

Jungkook squeezes your waist, nods and tells you it’s alright, before letting you go and joining Taehyung and Jimin near the exit. You watch Jimin grasp his shoulder and pull him in for a hug. Taehyung messes with his hair affectionately.

You ride home on Namjoon’s motorcycle while his friends lead the way. No one speaks until you’re sitting in Yoongi’s room together, passing a bottle of whiskey around. You only begin to talk after taking a slow, poignant sip of the liquor.

“You guys already know Namjoon and I ran away from home because our parents were physically and verbally abusive. But we swore never to tell anyone about what happened the day we left. Namjoon couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud even if he wanted to,” you begin before taking another burning sip of alcohol. “We left just after midnight and snuck out of the house down the fire escape. Our neighbor, Mrs. Lee, spotted us as we were climbing down. She realized what we were doing right away, so she grabbed me so we couldn’t run. I fought against her so hard, but she just wouldn’t let go.” You place your hands between your knees to stop them from shaking. “Namjoon shot her so we could get away. He didn’t have a choice. Our parents would’ve killed us that very night if he hadn’t.” You exhale somberly. “We only realized as we were running down the street that her son was outside and saw the whole thing. We grew up with Heesung. He was our friend. It… it was never meant to happen that way.”

“Oh, Y/N,” Hoseok grabs your hand and it makes you smile just a hair.

With Heesung’s death comes relief, and your hunger for vengeance is satiated, but the cruelty of fate still nips at your subconscious.

Heesung and Namjoon are two sides of a tragic coin. Neither one deserving of the cards they were dealt, and bound by the lingering strings of a tragedy which became their demise. The domino effect of a lifetime worth of decisions now ends with you, the last one standing.

“You and Namjoon both endured far more than you deserve,” Yoongi says. “But that’s all behind you now, and that Wolf of yours seems to make you pretty happy.”

You laugh and it feels real for the first time in a while.

“I think we can make an exception to the rules, don’t you?” Seokjin asks his new leader.

“Yes, I believe so,” Yoongi agrees.

Yoongi tells you Jungkook can visit as long as you’re with him the entire time, and he doesn’t leave your room. He allows it because you’re his best friends’ little sister and he loves you like his own. You’ve been through so much in your life already, and he isn’t going to keep a source of happiness from you. You’re so thankful that you force him into a tight embrace, which he pretends to begrudgingly accept, when he’s actually more than happy to return the affection.

Jungkook comes over, with permission this time, the very next day. You lie between his legs on your bed while he shows you how to drift in Mario Kart. You’re downright terrible at it, and he has to place his fingers over yours to prevent a loss on his account. When you inevitably do lose, and his overall ranking drops, his tongue presses to his cheek as he stares you down.

The next thing you know, he’s taking the Switch from you and gently setting it down on the nightstand before turning his attention back to you. He moves his hands down your body from your hips until he reaches your inner thighs and tugs your legs apart. His fingers are quick to find their way to your folds, touching you over your underwear. Your head falls to his shoulder as you moan softly.

“I should piss you off more often,” you muse.

His fingers are just running up and down your slit over the lace of your panties and it’s both not enough and too much simultaneously. He pushes down, causing the fabric to rub against your clit and you gasp, your hand gripping his arm to keep yourself steady.

“I wouldn’t try it,” he warns. His lips are right against your ear and the deepness of his voice sends shivers down your spine. Then he’s kissing your neck and your mind becomes too hazy to reply.

Jungkook moves your underwear to the side as he’s sucking on your neck and pushes into your cunt without warning. Your other hand curls around his head and grabs onto his hair. It’s pathetic how wet you already are, but the squelching sound your pussy makes as his fingers pump in and out is worth the embarrassment.

You’re restless, needing more of him than he’s currently providing you.

“Wanna ride you,” you tell him between your moans and sharp intakes of air. Jungkook is more than willing to oblige your request.

Which is how you end up on top of him, his cock meeting your cervix repeatedly as you alternate between bouncing up and down and grinding against his hips. His hands are everywhere at first, tracing your outline and massaging over any skin within his reach. But then his right arm, which is so beautifully decorated in tattoos, traverses the familiar path of your chest, stopping to pinch your nipple, before wrapping around your throat.

“Oh, fuck,” you moan as your head tips back. The position gives you such a beautiful view of him and his tattoos. You remind yourself to ask him about them soon. A pretty tiger lily is staring you in the face, but then Jungkook squeezes your throat and it becomes a blur of orange and black.

“Always so good for me,” he whispers while sitting up. His lips find yours, his arm securing you to him so you can bounce on him easier. His hand is still on your throat, softly squeezing the sides of it to pleasure you without harm. “My pretty baby,” he says once he moves to sucking on your earlobe and down your neck, just above his own fingers. "Always take my cock so fucking well."

He makes you come twice, because he just loves you that much, before fucking his cum into you as he thrusts his swollen cock into your cunt.

Once your pussy is battered and filled to the brim with his cum, you fall over onto his chest. You can feel him softening inside you, but don’t want to lose the feeling of him just yet.

Jungkook kisses you slowly, licking across your bottom lip and pulling at it with his teeth. You lazily make out as your hands traverse his naked chest. His fingertips create goosebumps where they skim along your spine. You could stay like this forever without a single complaint.

“I love you,” he whispers on your lips. He says it so quietly, as if he’s trying to hide the proclamation from the rest of the world and keep it just for you.

You’re smiling when you kiss him again.

“I love you,” you parrot.

After he finally does pull out, you lie naked together under the covers as Jungkook plays with your hair, twirling it and attempting a makeshift braid while you draw shapes on his skin with your fingers. It’s quiet and peaceful inside your mind for the first time in a long time. Jungkook kisses your forehead and you look over at him with a smile.

Jungkook licks his lips and pulls you up with him until your backs are against the headboard. He finally asks you to enlighten him about why he had a blade to his neck the night prior. You relay the story to him as you did with your brother’s friends.

Jungkook looks rightfully shocked, but he processes his own emotions quickly to offer you comfort instead.

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that, pretty,” he says. “If you ever wanna talk about it some more, you know I’m always here, right?”

“I know,” you affirm. “I’m here for you, too.”

“God, we’re both fucked up,” Jungkook chuckles.

You nod in agreement.

“It doesn’t have to stay that way, you know,” you propose. “We graduate next year and with Joonie gone there isn’t anything left for me here. I’ll stay until I can afford a place of my own, but then I’m putting this life behind me.” You readjust so you’re looking at Jungkook directly. “And I want you to join me. You’re so fucking smart, Jungkook, and anywhere would be lucky to have you.”

Jungkook hums, tilting his head as he thinks over your words.

“I don’t know what I want right now, pretty, but I do know that I wanna be wherever you are,” he confesses. You’re smiling at him as though he hung the stars in the sky himself. “Is that enough for now?”

Your eyes flit over all the details of him. His wavy black hair, big chocolate brown eyes, and the piercings decorating his pretty lips and eyebrow. He looks so different from the boy you met at school and yet everything is so irrevocably him. You smile, bending down so your noses touch.

“It’s more than enough,” you tell him.

732 notes · View notes

aceecee · 16 days ago

Text

Miseria - Zayne

Synopsis: Six different timelines. In each one you find yourself taking over the life of an extra in the game you had been so smitten with. In each life you’re different, whether it’s a different job, or where you live and even your personality. But only one thing remains constant, you’re determined to avoid them. You’re not in the body of the MC so it’s not like they’ll even notice. Right?

You really shouldn’t have underestimated them.

Alternatively: Local handsome doctor man will keep you locked up!

MC | Caleb | Sylus | Xavier | Rafayel

TW/Tags: MDNI, yandere Zayne, obsession, possessive behaviour, adultery/infidelity (not by reader or Zayne), divorce (reader’s backstory), misogyny, reader used to be a housewife (which I don’t shit on just how they’re taken advantage of), heartbreak, rejection, unrequited love (x2 for Zayne), manipulation, stockholm syndrome (?), dub-con, power dynamics (he’s your superior), workplace relationships, friendship breakups, implied non-consensual pregnancy, birthcontrol tampering, implied forced marriage, stalking (not just by Zayne), break ins, attempted rape (but nothing happens and not by Zayne), trauma bond (idk if it’s the right word), sexual content ( m!masturbation, p in v, semi-public sex, office sex, creampie), probably incorrect medical info and incorrect understanding on how hospitals work since author just searched shit up, fake dating, police bashing, violence, dead dove do not eat

WC: 12.2K

Masterlist

Disclaimer: This is a yandere work. The character's personalities have become dramatised as a result. This is not what I think of them at all even as yanderes, it's just for pure indulgence. MC in the boys chapters is not the same one in her's, she's just generic but she will always be a friend. This is not a safe space for MC haters. If you don't like any of this then don't read.

Zayne is very out of character in this. I cannot emphasise this enough.

Three weeks.

It has been three weeks since you went to bed and woke up the next day inside a fucking game.

Not just any game, the one that had been your comfort when things would get too much. Maybe it was childish or pathetic to rely on fictional men, but then they shouldn’t have been written so beautifully. Their muscles also helped.

The surgeon had quickly wormed his way into your heart and your wallet. You had collected every single memory of his, all his outfits and were well on your way to reaching the highest infinity with him. But one regret stood in your way. When his second myth had been released, your finances weren’t the best so with great control, you didn’t pull. Instead you waited over a year for a re-run. You watched with joy as you got the first memory within twenty pulls. The guarantee resets. Sixty more left.

You worked hard to save up for sixty pulls. It was Sunday, the last day before the banner would end. There are two hours left. You have a fifty-fifty chance. With a gulp, you pull until ten pulls are left. This is it. Sweat runs down your face, you tap your phone. The screen goes gold. It’s too soon to cheer. You quickly tap through all the three stars until your screen blanks. With bated breath, you await for the animation.

It’s green.

You scream as Caleb pops up.

Now you have to wait another year.

With no other choice, you go to sleep and no you’re not crying when you do (you totally are).

Only to wake up in someone else’s bed. You stumble around in a panic, have all those mafia romance books come back to bite you in the ass? They were just a guilty pleasure! You do not want a tall man covered in tattoos named ‘Sergio’ calling you kitten or doll, you cringe just thinking about it.

But then you come across a photo on a desk. It’s of you and an old woman you’ve never met. Oddly enough she looks a lot like you…

That’s when they hit. Not in a gentle way like a mother’s touch caressing as you fall asleep but like you’ve been fucked in the ass by a chainsaw.

Too many memories for you to count. All of you in another life, in this life. The you in these memories laughs the way you do, she moves just like you, it’s clear you’re one and the same. The only difference you can see are the lives you’ve led and the way they’ve shaped you. She’s more…of a pushover and as you live through her memories, she’s been taken advantage of way too many times because of it.

Your original life wasn’t hard, you just had to be independent from a young age and advocating for yourself comes with that because no one else will. You’re too out of it now but later you notice the decay in her apartment, the lack of anything nice and the brutal ache in her chest that has you clawing at the skin desperate to rip your heart out so the suffering can end. All of it is a result of her inability to wish and seek better for herself.

Maybe if she had been a bit like you in that regard, then this wouldn’t be her ending. Thrown away by the one who claimed to love her and abandoned by everyone else.

Your first day is spent in a state of disarray.

The constant barrage of memories leave your head feeling like it’s about to explode. It’s exhausting for your body and mind, you’re oddly dehydrated after. All you can do is lay back down on the bed and sleep.

The second day is spent in a state of anger.

You’ve had time to process her life and you’ve come to one conclusion. Every single person in her (your?) life deserves the pear of anguish. That photo of you with the woman? Smashed into pieces. Not even your own mother was on your side. The ring still on her finger? Gently placed to the side because it’ll fetch a lot of money. You might be angry but you’re not a fool.

The rest of the weeks are spent trying to fix her mistakes.

Your other self was for a lack of better word, brilliant. You feel sick at what she’s been reduced to.

It’s a story you’ve seen countless times: a genius woman meets a man who’s insecure about her brilliance so he manipulates her until she no longer believes in herself and settles for a lifetime as a housewife. And look where that got her.

Discarded. Like. Fucking. Trash.

Her fucking pathetic excuse for a husband gaslit her into accepting the most diabolic pre-nup you’ve ever seen. She was left with nothing in the end, not even the clothes, jewellery or gifts he had bought for her. It’s surprising he still let her keep the ring.

It wasn’t even like her marriage had anything good about it, a cheating scumbag for a husband whose mother hated her. Mrs Choi never failed to remind your other self that you weren’t good enough, born from a poor family and no greater education (like her own son didn’t put a stop to it).

After you throw a pity party for yourself, you spend the week applying to as many jobs as you can. One gets back, a little cashier job in a small grocery mart. The pay isn’t much but it’ll cover your bills and you get a discount. It’ll do for now. It’s hard starting all over again but you’ll work hard to save and go back to school. You’ll do it for your other self, give her the ending she deserved.

But if you do ever come face to face with her, you’ll also give her a slap.

It’ll be a wake up call and also because it’ll be therapeutic for you, you can’t even enjoy the fact that you’re in your favourite game. You’ve been thrust into the deep end when you’ve only just put on the swimwear.

There are no words to describe the realisation that you’re not in the body of the MC but a random background character, one who doesn’t even live in Linkon. It’s like whoever brought you here is telling you not to get your hopes up.

So, you don’t. You accept this is your life now. Maybe you’ll visit Linkon in the future and watch them from the sidelines or maybe you won’t.

That’s how three weeks go by.

In the fourth week, you’re interrupted by your plans to sleep and sleep by your doorbell ringing. A familiar grouchy face filled with wrinkles stares back at you.

“Well?” she demands. “Are you going to invite me in or stand there gawking?”

When you don’t respond, Mrs Choi makes her own way in. She stops and examines your place, her vintage and designer clothing contrasting heavily with the cheap furniture.

“Tch.”

Tch?

TCH???

This fucking b-

“It’s your son’s fault I’m living like this. Go judge him,” you snap. Her eyes widen a little before a smirk settles onto her face. “Finally grew claws?” She doesn’t wait for an answer and makes herself at home on your couch.

“And that’s exactly what I was doing. I was judging him,” she rests her hands on the handle of her cane. “Do sit down, we have a lot to discuss.”

Interested in the direction this conversation was going, you do as she says. Though, a part of you is pissed she’s commanding you in your own home, however disgusting it may be.

“What could we possibly have to discuss?”

“For starters, I’ve never approved of you marrying my son.”

You let out a cold laugh, she doesn’t even blink. “No shit.”

“Because you deserved better.”

Your jaw hangs open.

“I saw it from the start, when he began courting you. You were brilliant and meant for more and he knew. He couldn’t stand it because he’s just like his father,” she looks to the side, shaking her head. “That boy…I tried so hard to teach him better but I failed. I begged him to end the relationship, begged him to leave you alone but he didn’t listen. Then when you got married all I could do was treat you horribly in the childish hopes you would leave on your own,” she looks straight into your eyes, a forlorn expression on her face. “But he had dug too deep into you and you were willing to deal with it. For him. You reminded me so much of myself, I suppose that’s why I was trying so hard to help. Well…in my own way.”

Sitting there on your stained couch, Mrs Choi who had once felt so big when in front of you, was suddenly so small. “It was already too late for me when I began to recognise the cage I built for myself but I’m glad it’s not for you,” that’s when she gives you a smile. The only genuine one you’ve ever seen. How did you not see it before? The anguish in her eyes, the metaphoric stone wall she covered herself in for protection.

This could’ve been your future.

But thank fuck it’s not.

She must’ve seen the relief in your eyes because a small smile makes its way on her face. “But that’s also not the reason I’m here,” she reaches into her purse, pulling out a white envelope. “Here. It’s not even close to the amount you deserve for all the years you put up with my son, for all of your labour he exploited but it should be enough for a new life.”

You open the seal, delicately since you’re not sure what’s in it. Your eyes widen at the amount listed on the account. “The account is in your name and only you have access to it.”

“B-but why…?” You stare at her.

“If I can help just one woman from a fate like mine then I’ll be content.”

“...”

“But there’s one condition.”

You bring the paper in front of you down, replacing it with her face which is looking at you.

“Go back to medical school, [Name]. One far from here. There’s a prestigious one in Linkon city where I have a friend on the board. He’s willing to offer a scholarship, especially after I showed him your unfinished thesis.”

“How did you even find that?”

“I have my ways. Of course, you’ll have to finish that thesis during your time. I suggest packing up and leaving as soon as you can.”

And you do.

The first thing was calling the number she had left, a Mr Xenly answered. He had been eager to talk, asking questions about your thesis and expressed disappointment about it not being finished. You talk over video, he’s bright and cheerful which makes your nerves calm down. Your placement for next year is confirmed and for the rest of the week, the elation you feel never comes down.

Packing up everything you owned was easy. Too easy. It hurt a little to see firsthand how little you own, how little you were left with. It infuriates you how easy it's become to brush off the hurt, the pain, the sting from betrayal. But this is a fresh start, it’s time to leave it all behind.

Mr Xenly is kind enough to find a small and cheap apartment off campus for you, the pictures you received don’t do it justice. It’s small, practically a studio but compared to what you had before, it’s paradise. You have too much money on your hands now, so you reward yourself by sprucing up the place. Comfy blanket throws, cute cushion covers, aesthetic decorations are all over the apartment by the end of the week.

It’s yours and it’s perfect.

Medical school is hard. Which everyone knows but you were still not prepared for how difficult it can be. You have your other self’s intelligence to back you up but you still struggle. Part of you is happy to be challenged so much.

Currently you’re sitting in the lecture hall, listening to your professor drone on. It’s taking everything to not let the boredom win, keeping your eyes open as long as you can. A nudge to your shoulder wakes you up again. You turn to the assailant, it’s Leo. He smirks at your annoyed expression and mouths “focus” at you. With a glare you do as he says.

You met this menace on your first day here, you stuck out amongst the students since you were older and that’s how you got his attention. Unfortunately, he’s never left you alone since then and you have no idea how you’ve made it three years dealing with him.

The lecture thankfully ends ten minutes later but not before the professor reminds you of the special guest lecturer coming in next week. You roll your eyes at the reminder, they’ve been talking about it for weeks, it would be hard not to come across it.

Next week arrives faster than you would’ve thought. It’s on a random Tuesday when your world once again tilts on its axis. You had no idea back then, the chain of events that would happen after.

Leo as usual is waiting for you, quick to throw his arm around your shoulders and usher you in. There’s an exciting buzz in the air, the students are looking forward to something. Or someone.

That’s when you see him, standing tall in pants and a warm shirt. His hair rivals even the darkest obsidian and his eyes…

They are so striking that even you halt a little in the doorway and Leo, completely unaware, ends up pushing you to a seat.

The other students swoon over him and you can’t blame them. While the class settles down and he sets up to prepare, you take the time to watch him again.

You wait for the butterflies but you feel…nothing. He’s everything you’ve ever wanted in a man but your heart doesn’t race, you don’t sweat and you don’t even feel nervous when his gaze meets yours in the crowd.

Did his eyes linger or are you just being delusional?

He starts the lecture, not looking at you again.

Yup, delusional.

You don’t have time to be disappointed in your lack of feelings as you get swept up in his lecture. He’s a genius, the way he weaves his words and presents them have you hanging off the edge of your seat. His findings are revolutionary. This is the man you want to work under, the one you want as a mentor. He’s the only one capable of sending you to great heights.

If only you realised the opposite of that can also be true.

It’s the most you’ve ever seen your class participate, they’re silent as they listen to every word and so many hands are up in the air, each with their own questions. Just like that, three hours pass.

After the lecture is over, you find yourself in a café on campus. Leo is gone to his job so you have plenty of time before you meet again. There's a restaurant that just opened. He wants to take you and you’re always open to trying new food. The cappuccino is a small comfort in your hands, a little defence against the harsh cold.

“Hello.”

The coffee goes all over the table and your clothes as you shriek from the sudden presence and familiar voice. Your hands work fast to use napkins to clean the mess up. Another pair of hands join you. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realise you hadn’t noticed me,” his melodic voice rings out. “It’s fine, Dr Li. I should’ve been more alert.”

He joins you at the table, all of the coffee has been cleaned up and your clothes can’t be helped. “Please, call me Zayne. I’m not working right now.”

“Okay, Zayne,” you nod.

“Mr Xenly shared your thesis with me. It’s not often he’s so impressed. I was curious to meet the person who had such astonishing results,” he looks you deep in the eyes as he says. The praise out of his mouth on your first meeting leaves you flustered. You might not feel anything for the man but he’s still the man you had once been so smitten with, he still carries with him all his little quirks that you were so taken with. “Your theories on solutions to combat antibiotic resistance leave much to be desired. Like many have already told you, I look forward to when you finish it.”

“Thank you Dr-I mean Zayne. It means a lot coming from you.”

He offers you a gentle smile and takes his leave but not before adding one last thing. “Akso Hospital would be lucky to have you, if you’re considering it for your residency.”

To be honest, you weren’t considering it. You didn’t want to experience his love story with her, you had no desire to see it play out right in front of you but things have changed now. You feel nothing for him, it doesn’t even sting to think of them together so why should you give up the option of working alongside one of the best surgeons designed for this world?

You nod. “I’ll consider it.”

And you don’t see him again after that. Not as you graduate, not as you finish your thesis and not even on your first day at Akso.

Leo follows you to Akso, his interest has always been in paediatrics but you still haven’t made up your mind which makes you glad that you’re expected to rotate around the departments and assist in every single area.

Your first two years will be spent in this rotation, the first as an intern and the second as a resident. When they are over you’ll be able to choose your specialised area. Akso is known for its cardiology and general surgery department, maybe you’ll wind up in one of those.

You meet him again in the second week. His eyes don’t widen as he sees you, there’s no quirk in his eyebrows, he’s just normal as he greets you. Which you’re thankful for and a little embarrassed you had expected a reaction in the first place.

What he does is rightfully yell at you on the first patient you assist him with. A little girl in for a heart transplant, who you were left to watch over after the surgery was done along with four other patients. Between the constant back and forth, you failed to notice a drop in her vitals which led to her being rushed to the emergency room and she survived by the skin of her teeth. You took his words in stride, you had failed and you deserved to hear each one.

Later, Leo finds you tucked into some corner of the hospital. You’re too busy crying to notice him until he throws an arm and pulls you into his side. “You’ve become famous already,” he jokes, which only makes you cry harder. Seeing his joke didn’t land the way he wanted, the boy panics, “I was just kidding, no one else knows [Name]! I only found out from the friendly nurse who thought I could comfort you.” You can’t help laughing at his panicked face, he looks just like a squirrel. He lightly hits you on the shoulder. “Were Dr Li’s words that harsh? I think this is the first time I’ve seen you cry.”

You shake your head. “He was right to yell at me. I’m crying because she’s still alive, because I didn’t kill her,” you bring your head down to your knees. “I know it’s going to happen sooner or later but I’d really like it to be later.”

Leo says nothing else, just letting you cry into his arms.

Neither of you notice the pair of feet around the corner nor as their footsteps walk away.

“Here,” Leo hands you something. It’s banana milk.

“Oh, that’s sweet of you but I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m lactose intolerant.”

You cackle at his dumbfounded expression.

“Wh-a how have I never known this? We’ve been friends for years, [Name]! This is the sort of thing you tell your friends! And I’ve seen you eat dairy before.”

“Yeah cause I had time to constantly go to the toilet before but I can’t do it now, can I?”

With a sulk, he finishes the milk.

The next day, Zayne pulls you aside. “I hope you’re not upset about yesterday,” he calmly asks. It’s not an apology and you don’t deserve one. “I’m alright, Doctor. Please don’t go easy on me.”

His lips quirk. “I’d never.”

Two years don’t go by as quickly as you would’ve liked. You spend each day and many nights at the hospital, doing the grunt work and getting yelled at. A lot. You’ve also lost patients in that time. The first one had been the hardest but you had Leo for comfort. The two of you had become each other’s rock, exchanging stories and information about how to get on the good side of your seniors. You’re just glad he was by your side.

At the end of the two years, you decide to go into cardiology and he sticks by paediatrics. Which meant he wouldn’t be staying at Akso, finding a better program elsewhere.

You’ve always hated airports and they’re no better inside the game. The long wait lines, the amount of people, the sounds of crying children, it’s all so overstimulating. But you pull through and deal with it, for Leo.

“Aww, don’t cry [Name],” the brown-haired man teases you. He wraps his arm around you, securing you both in a tight hug. “I knew you’d miss me.”

“I’m not crying,” you say as you cry. The boy before you gives a small smile, he looks all over your face and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so nervous. His hand comes up gently to brush away some tears.

“I’ve liked you this entire time, you know?” he whispers. You nod. You did know.

“I don’t expect an answer but I’ll wait for you, [Name],” he leaves but not before placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

The first few months without him were hard, you knew how much you relied on him but you didn’t think it would be this bad. The two of you still talk but it’s at completely odd hours and only lasts for a couple of minutes each time. It’s not enough but you have no choice but to make it enough. You don’t have the right to ask him to come back, to be by your side when you’re not sure you can reciprocate his feelings. Even if by some miracle you do, there will always be that tiny voice in the back of your head telling you to check his phone or that he’s out with another woman and you’ll never be able to fully trust him, not when that voice had once been right.

Greyson waits for you as you clock in for your shift. He too has the deep under bags you sport. He hands you a cup of coffee. “Morning. It has oat milk, don't worry.” You take a sip, savouring the warmth of the liquid. “My saviour,” you grin at him. He shyly smiles back. “Us assistants should stick together, right?” You nod.

Greyson had already been at the hospital a year before you started but you had also been chosen to work as Zayne’s assistant. The man was easy to get along with but anytime you tried to work out the mystery of his age, he would find a way to brush you off but you’re not giving up anytime soon.

As you walk by the receptionist's desk, Yvonne waves you over. The kind nurse had quickly become a friend, especially when you discovered she was the one who sent Leo after you years ago. You stop when you recognise the figure by the desk. Tall with a slender figure, long brown hair with a fringe, fair skin and warm brown eyes, donned in that familiar hunter outfit.

It’s her.

She looks over you with a cheerful yet nervous smile and you give her a warm one back. You didn’t realise that the main story was already underway, you wonder when the two even met. “She’s just here for a check-up,” Yvonne passes you a tablet, her digital chart. You skim through it. “Dr Li is busy with an appointment, he gave permission for you to handle it.” “Okay, thanks Yvonne.”

“Nice to meet you, I’m Dr [L. Name],” you reach a hand out and she eagerly returns your handshake. She introduces herself, her voice exactly like you had customised it. You gesture for her to follow you to a spare examination room. “Just take a seat on the bed,” you say and put on gloves.

“How have you been feeling lately? Any dizziness or nausea?”

She shakes her head.

“I see on your chart and by your clothes that you’re a hunter, has your disease ever gotten in the way?” you ask.

“No.”

She’s lucky. Protocore syndrome is no joke. All you knew from the game was that there was no cure and reading any articles or medical journals on it had produced no further knowledge. It’s a mystery to the people in game as it was to everyone else but if the main character can work as a hunter, backflipping as she fights, then for now she should be okay.

You really hope she gets her happy ending, with one of them or with all of them, hell even by herself because she’s sitting before you now and she looks so young. You think of her several lifetimes, dying or seeing the one she loves die and you feel so much for her.

For a game meant to be a dating sim, they could at least let their main character have a break.

The rest of the check-up goes well, there are no weird results but it doesn’t quell the worry in your heart. You wonder if this is how Zayne feels every time he sees her, does he feel relieved when she’s standing before him?

You can’t help the bitterness in you, she’ll never have to worry about their loyalty, their good, their love, not like you had. They’re designed for her, each of them an anomaly among other men even in their own world. You’ll never have that security. It’s why you don’t think you’ll ever love again. Why you feel like you’re not capable of it anymore.

After the check-up is over, a ping goes off from her phone, when she checks it you notice the familiar charm of a logo dangling from it. “Ah, is that Scattered Adolescents?” you ask innocently. You nearly jumped out of the chair at the speed in which she clasped her hands around yours. Her eyes are wide with joy as they bore right into yours. “I’ve never met anyone else that liked them.”

You laugh. “Are you kidding me? I adore them.”

The two of you blink at the other. “Did we…” she trails off.

“...just become friends? Yeah, I think we did,” you finish with a giggle.

When Zayne finally makes his way to the receptionist’s desk from his meeting, he’s greeted by the sight of you and her giggling. You wave her off as she walks away, a bright smile on your face that he hasn’t seen for months. Not since he left.

“I wasn’t expecting them to become friends so quickly, they seem so different at first glance,” Yvonne comments. He looks at her to show he’s listening but doesn’t respond. “But I’m glad [Name] seems happy, she’s been so down lately. We used to have a bet to see how long until her and Leo would get together but I guess that’s just not happening.” “I see,” he finally says, neither of them notice how his grip on the documents tighten just a little.

Noticing him, you walk up to the two with a smile. It’s not the same carefree one from before, this one is a polite one, like one a person has for a work colleague. A colleague who means nothing more.

“Good morning, Dr Li,” you greet him. He nods at you. Yvonne catches your attention. “Say [Name], are you ever gonna date? I don’t think I’ve ever even seen you look at a person in interest.” Zayne doesn’t let it show but he’s just as curious for your answer. You let out an awkward chuckle but figure it’s best to squash questions like these now before they get worse.

“Love just isn’t as spectacular as people make it out to be.”

It’s a couple of weeks later when you see her again. This time she’s lying on a gurney being wheeled in, knocked out during a wanderer attack. Aside from suffering from a brutal concussion, some bruised ribs and claw mark imprints, the biggest issue is the large rod impaling her abdomen.

Greyson is the one selected to watch over during the surgery, as much as Zayne tries to hide it, you notice how he’d rather be the one present for it all but there are more at risk patients that need him.

It’s hours later that you receive the news that she’s okay, Zayne doesn’t even flinch and just nods but you see the slight tremble in his hands, just before he hides them in his pockets. “Shall we go check-up on her?” you ask him. “I-I know it might not be appropriate but I think seeing her might ease my mind.”

“We can.”

And even though you had pretended to be concerned to give him an out, the sight of her on the bed fills you with a sense of relief you didn’t think would happen. It’s her charm, managing to sneak her way into the very short list of people you cared for, when you had only met twice.

Zayne tries his best to keep it in but his eyes flutter as he tries to keep the tears at bay, you look around noting all the nurses and other staff at work. It would raise questions for him to be so involved with a patient, especially one meant for long-term, so you gently grip his white coat and lead him out the room. “Follow me.” You don’t know why he follows without a fuss but you lead through some corners and bends until you reach a storage room.

“No one really uses this, it’s a forgotten room. Knock on the door when you’d like to leave,” you inform him, closing the door and standing guard outside. It’s not that you particularly care but seeing him try so hard not to cry would tug on anyone’s heartstrings. A few minutes pass and you’re utterly grateful your pager doesn’t go off or that no one comes over to ask what you’re doing. You hear it then, a soft knock on the door.

He opens it himself, from the inside. Standing before you is the Zayne everyone sees at work, there’s no evidence of the dishevelled man you saw not even ten minutes ago. Neither of you say a word, you simply turn around and start walking, another pair of footsteps join you.

“Thank you.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you give him a sly grin.

A scenario like that doesn’t occur in the months that pass after, she comes and goes, now having healed and back on her feet. You make sure to chastise her but you still present her with the plushie of her favourite member of the boyband as a thanks for putting her life on the risk. You will never admit how soft you felt at the bone crushing hug she gave you after. No, you’d sooner die.

It’s just…you can’t remember the last time you had been shown affection in such a way.

Lately, you can’t go two minutes without staff murmuring about the annual gala the hospital holds, the one night a year you can dress in extravagant clothing and mingle with rich people. The night is important for gathering donations for the hospital, so only a few people receive invites. As a mere intern, you along with others were not chosen but this year is different.

Despite your normal aversion to events like these, it feels like you’ve been spending every waking moment in this hospital, so a change of pace is welcome. Even if it’s just in another part of said hospital.

The red dress you buy comes with a price that no resident could pay but the hefty amount sitting prettily in your account helps. It’s a nice flowy dress with only the bodice being tight fitting, there’s a slit but what really got your attention was the choker in similar colour that it came with. It has a red flower with two ribbons that decorate your neck nicely. You can’t remember the last time you had ever dressed up like this. Your doctor’s coat nearly became a second skin.

The event is boring, the music is tasteless and the food even more so. You’re practically counting the seconds go by. None of the people present are remotely interesting so you can’t be blamed for slipping out.

The night sky is beautiful. It’s always been one of your favourite things. The swirls of purple in the black sky with hints of blue, the twinkling stars each different and all extraordinary and the moon. You could look at the moon for hours without looking away. You don’t know why but it’s always been your thing, just looking at it for small yet priceless moments of peace.

But peace never sticks with you for long.

“[Name]?”

Even after so many years, your body and mind remember the voice. They remember the promises of love it had spoken once, they remember the hurt it had hurled towards you. How little and alone it had made you feel. How it had lied so easily. You can’t help the tremble in your body as you slowly turn in its direction. You’re so ashamed of yourself for letting it affect you like this. After all your hard work all it took was one word to collapse everything you’ve built.

“It is you,” he breaths, looking mystified. He doesn’t get to look at you that way. His eyes move around your body taking you in with a look that disgusts you. He doesn’t get to look at you that way.

“What do you want?” It takes everything you have to keep a solid tone, empathetic of any emotion. Your face follows the same way, he doesn’t deserve anything from you. Especially your emotions.

“I just wanted to say hi.” He’s acting like you’re the one insane for being so vicious, like you have no reason to be. Your hand curls at your side. He’d sure look pretty with a large bruise on that face. That’s when your eyes drift to the woman by his side, she’s got her hand tightly clutched in his like you’re going to try and steal him. Her hand goes down to rub her stomach, by the size of it she should be about three months pregnant. She doesn’t meet your eyes, at least she has the decency to look ashamed.

He takes a step towards you. “You look…” he trails off.

“Better than I ever did by your side? Yeah, I do. It’s amazing what not having a cheating scumbag husband in your life can do for your complexion,” you bite. “You’ve said hi, now leave.”

“It’s been years and you still haven’t gotten over it?”

Red, hot white anger flashes through you but before you can open your mouth to fire back, you’re taken off guard by the feel of a warm coat over your shoulders. “There you are, honey. I’ve been looking all over for you,” a warm voice speaks through the silence.

Unlike the voice before, Zayne’s voice calms you down. It’s like a soothing and warm blanket in a room filled with bitter cold. Your hand reaches up the coat, tugging it over you properly. His hand sneaks its way around your waist, pulling you closer. His other hand makes its way to yours, covering it with a gentle squeeze, you didn’t realise it was still shaking.

“Should we head home?” he asks you. His eyes don’t leave yours, they don’t even glance the other way. “Please,” you whisper. He immediately turns you around so you don’t see them and you both start walking away. You don’t hear what Ha-yoon responds with and for that you’re glad.

Zayne leads you to his car. “I’ll drive you home.” The car ride is silent, you’re so plagued by your thoughts you don’t realise to ask how he knew where you live.

Ever the gentleman, he walks you to the entrance of your apartment building. “Will you be okay?” he gently asks. For a few seconds you just look at him. “Are you hungry, Dr Li?”

Your question is unexpected. You let out a small laugh at his face. It’s nice to laugh after all that. “Because I am. The food at the gala was horrible but I know a place not far from here that’s still open.”

He understands your unspoken question. “Let’s go then.”

The two of you receive many looks as you’re seated. You don’t blame them, you both stand out in your current attire.

The small restaurant has become a comfort place for you, it specializes in the local cuisine of your country, a reminder of what once had been home.

“I always find myself here when things get hard. When I had to take my first medical exams, after my first day at the hospital,” you explain as you both put away the plastic menus after ordering. “And now after your ex-husband appeared,” he finishes for you. You nod. “Yup.”

“You helped me out that day so I thought to return the favour,” he continued. “You don’t have to tell me anymore but I’m here if you do.”

You bring your hands to your lap, clutching them tightly against each other. “I…I think I need to just tell someone.”

He leans back in the chair, making himself comfortable. He gives you that slight smile, warmth flooding his eyes.

“We met when we were fifteen. He was everything I never was. Rich, popular and he had a sinful way with words. He could charm anyone and he did it to me. I was too young and foolish to realise his true intentions and face. That underneath it all he was just an insecure boy that couldn’t stand anyone better than him. He worked hard to chip away all the good things I had. We got married straight after we graduated. I completed my bachelor and confided my dream to go to medical school,” you start. Zayne doesn’t say a word, only watching.

“That’s when he started chaining me down. It was small things at first, ‘How can you be a doctor if you can’t even do this?’. But it was enough to stick with me and suddenly I’m a housewife who once had a dream.”

Your food arrives, you thank the waitress but neither of you make a move to eat. He’s still watching and you’re not finished.

“She was his childhood friend, who moved away when they were young. She comes back and suddenly he’s spending any free time with her. She became his first priority and I was a third wheel in my own marriage. He made me feel like I was crazy for even thinking something was wrong. Then I walk in on the two of them,” you can’t help the shakiness of your voice, your eyes brimming with unshed tears.

“I didn’t even realise that the pre-nup had a clause about cheating but only for me. He claimed that I was the one who had an affair with his bodyguard. My own mother stood under oath and lied that it was true, later I found that she was paid a lot of money.”

“He’s a dick.”

You let out the ugliest cackle at the way Zayne said those words. He says them through a straight face, voice monotone but his expression breaks at your laughter, chuckling along with you.

Things change after that. The biggest one you notice is how much he watches you, even when you catch him he’s not in a particular hurry to look away.

“Hey,” Yvonne pulls you aside one day. “There’s a Ha-yoon Choi here for a check-up. Says he’ll only do it if you’re the doctor.” She notices the slight way your eyes widen. “But I can tell him you’re busy and have no time, don’t worry. Should I involve security?”

“No. I’ll do it,” Zayne snatches the tablet from her hand before you can tell no. You didn’t even notice him walk up to you two.

You don’t even have the time to ask what happened as your responsibilities call you away. A hand roughly tightens its grip around your wrist just seconds before you get in your car. “Are you really dating that guy?”

You flick him off. “Yeah I am, what’s it to you?” He scoffs. “Seriously [Name]? He’s your superior, what were you thinking?”

“Are you kidding me,” you try to shove him. “Are you seriously trying to lecture me on appropriate relationships?”

Your voice picks up, gathering the attention of those littering in the car park. Your colleagues stop and watch the altercation. You can’t let him destroy your reputation so you try to get into your car and drive off but Ha-yoon’s never had you disobey him before.

“Have you not even considered the consequences of dating Dr Li,” he yells. You glance around, everyone else has heard him.

“Not here, Ha-yoon. Leave me alone,” you growl out before getting in the car and leaving.

But the damage is done.

Whispers and side eyes follow you everywhere you go. You’ve gone from a reputable doctor to a whore who seduced her superior for better surgeries and for special treatment. There’s no point in even denying the rumours, it doesn’t even matter that none of it is true. None of them blame Zayne, it’s all on you.

It’s been another two months since your altercation with your ex, and the whispers have yet to die down. You can’t even look at Zayne’s direction without hearing something about it.

You’re lying down in your bed, a little sanctuary you’ve made recently, with your phone in your hands. You stare at Leo’s contact, debating whether to bother him with your problems. He’s been silent for months, at first you chalked it up to a doctor’s hectic schedule but his socials show him enjoying time with new friends. You don’t want to call him since there’s a chance he’s working so you settle for a message.

[Name]:

Hey, can we talk?

Leo:

Not now. I’m with my girlfriend.

[Name]:

Girlfriend? When did that happen?

Leo:

When you started dating Dr Li.

[Name]:

I see. Have fun.

The phone drops down next to you. For all his hefty claims of love and how he would wait, he couldn’t even think to hear it from your mouth first. From all the years he had known you, did it seriously never occur for him to realise how out of character it is for you to date your superior?

Or maybe he never really saw you, only the parts he wanted to notice. This is why you’re never falling in love, they’re all the same.

You cry yourself to sleep that night.

Ha-yoon hasn’t left you alone since the altercation, you have no idea how he managed to get your number but blocking him does nothing, he just messages from a new phone. You’re not even safe in your own home. Every night when you come home, there’s a package waiting for you. The items range from designer clothing to expensive jewellery, all of which you sell.

The police practically escort you off their premises when you try to lodge a complaint, they see you as someone delusional because why would a man belonging to a prominent family stalk you?

Even in the game they’re incompetent.

In an odd turn of events, the only one you can turn to for comfort has been Zayne himself. Like you said, things have been different between you two. You’re softer around him, he’s become something akin to a friend. He had apologised for the vitriol you’ve been receiving, blaming himself since but you had told him not to. It was neither of your faults.

You confided in him about Ha-yoon’s new stalkerish methods and the failure of the police, in turn he helped you install cameras in your home and told you to always record any conversations with him. “It would be extremely helpful for your case if you managed to get him to admit to it,” he had told you.

“Stalkers tend to escalate, especially when they’re not being received well. He already knows where you live, it won’t be long until he makes his way inside. I suggest leaving your home pin with someone you trust,” his ears had gone red when you informed him that person was him. You feel a little better knowing he’s looking out for you.

“Check your windows are locked,” Zayne’s soft voice commands through the phone.

You do as he says. It’s become a routine between you two, you call him before you go to sleep and he answers. Then, he goes through a checklist you came up with before you say goodnight. It’s the only way you can sleep these days. The only way you feel safe. And you have Zayne to thank for that.

“That’s everything, good-” your words are cut off by a sudden pounding on your front door.

“What’s that?” Zayne asks, concern laced in his voice.

“Someone’s at my door,” you respond.

“[Name], I know you’re in there!”

“Find a hiding spot, I’m calling the police,” you don’t register Zayne’s voice. You remain frozen. As a doctor one of the most important things is to never freeze yet here you are. Your breath picks up as fear runs rampant inside you, your skin covered in goosebumps whether from the cold or the uncertainty of your future, you have no idea.

Your mind screams dozens of sentences at you but all you can do is gasp for the air you’ve suddenly forgotten how to breathe. God, I’m so pathetic.

“[Name], listen to me. You need to hide, find a weapon and a safe spot,” Zayne’s voice finally makes it way through the buzzing accumulating in your ears. “I’m on my way, stay calm.”

All previous sentiments of finding your little apartment small and cozy are gone as you curse yourself for the lack of good hiding spots. All you have is under the bed or the closet. It feels like you’re going to puke your heart up as you find the biggest knife you have and hide in the closet.

Under the bed is the first place he would look, giving you time to sneak up behind him and catch him off guard.

“I’m coming in,” those three dreaded words are followed by the beeping as he inputs your code. There’s no time to wonder how he even knew it in the first place, your body quickly manoeuvring itself in your wardrobe, hiding yourself under the clothes.

“I’m going to stay quiet now,” in your frenzy you’d forgotten you were still on the phone. “Hurry,” you whimper. He doesn’t respond but something tells you he heard.

The air feels thick as you hear the creak of your front door open. For a second you wonder if he can hear the thundering of your heart in the chilling silence. Your ears pick up every footstep, the creak of the floorboards with it, tears run down your face and you force your hand tight against your mouth to block off any whimpers. You don’t even breathe.

It’s when the footsteps go silent that you worry but you don’t get to linger on that worry for long as the closet door is yanked open. A hand wraps itself around your wrist with such a strong grip it feels like your shoulder might dislocate. Another hand grabs the knife and tosses it across the room before you can even react. Your body is thrown on the floor so roughly that your head bangs hard against the floor.

You’re not sure how long you’re out but judging by the current situation, it wasn’t more than a few seconds. But the view around you is blurry and tilting as you can’t concentrate, you can barely hear the words out of his mouth. Ha-yoon hovers above you with a crazed expression, he brings his face closer to you, an action that only has you sob.

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” he coos, caressing your face. You try to move your head away but the throbbing in the back of your head has you disorientated. “This is why you should’ve just listened to me, [Name],” he chastises. “We could’ve avoided all this,” he brings his hands down to your pyjama shirt, lingering around the buttons.

“I have to remind you who you belong to,” he pops one. “Doesn’t matter if we’re still together or not, you don’t get to move on,” another one opens. You don’t even realise your sobs getting louder until he presses his hand against your mouth. “Shut up and just take it,” he slams your head down again.

Maybe that’s what snaps you out of it, maybe it’s the anger his audacity brings or maybe your brain registers that you’re not going to be conscious for long but with newfound strength you bring your legs up and kick right at his chest with a sudden rush of adrenaline. Even in that state, you aim right for where his heart is.

The last thing your eyes see before they close is the bastard hunched over the floor, clutching desperately at his chest and gasping for air. It’s a beautiful sight. One that you painted.

You awake to the sound of similar beeping of hospital machines. You don’t register anything, only the memories of what happened before you passed out, your body moves itself up in a panic to get away. The sudden move only has you clutch your head in pain as it throbs, your eyes sting with tears. A warm hand rests on your shoulder, guiding you back on the bed.

Yvonne tries to smile at you but her eyes brim with tears. “Don’t move, you’re just going to agitate it even more. I’ll get you some painkillers later, okay?”

You try to nod but even that brings pain. “You’re safe, he’s not here,” she holds your hands in hers. “I’ll get the doctor on schedule,” she tries to leave but you stop her. “What happened,” your voice comes out croaky, Yvonne moves to hand you a glass of water.

She tells you everything. It’s not the first time you’ve woken up, you had been conscious when help had arrived at the scene, but you were so out of it, you still don’t remember. It’s a good thing, if you had been out for longer than a few minutes it would’ve indicated severe head trauma. You don’t even want to imagine what that could’ve entailed.

You were given a sedative by the paramedics since you had been in too much pain hence why you’re waking up now, only a few hours later. They placed you in a private room, all paid for by the hospital. A CT scan had been done while you were out, showing no major concerns but you’ll be monitored for a while just in case. You don’t need to feel it but the affected area on your head has massive bruising and swelling which is why it hurts so much.

You want to tell her that this wasn’t what you wanted to know, that you needed answers about what happened with Ha-yoon but the room keeps spinning and it hurts to keep your eyes open. “Sleep, I’ll be here,” Yvonne gently says as you doze off.

The next time you wake up, Zayne is in the room with you. He’s sitting on the chair by your side, dressed in normal attire and reading a book. His attention is instantly on you when you groan, he’s by your side faster than you can realise. The soft behaviour usually distributed to his patients is now presented to you. He asks a bunch of questions while looking over your vitals. He masks it well but you can see his concern shining through. It’s oddly comforting.

You open your mouth to ask but he cuts you off. “I know you’re curious but you’re in no state to process anything. I’ll answer everything when you’re doing better, okay?” You just nod, you can tell by his tone that there’s no convincing him.

She visits you too, plopping a plushie on your favourite member from the group. “Thought I’d return the favour,” she gave you a strained smile and her hold on your hand lingered for a long time before her duties called her away. She leaves her warmth behind.

Everyday, the staff fight off the police officers that drop by, all of them advocating that you’re not okay to answer their questions, something you’re grateful for. You’re in no shape to be scrutinized and judged.

Zayne concludes that you’re ready for the whole story one afternoon when you finally walk in a straight line before him. He does more tests to be safe, seeing how well your arms and legs hold up against his grip and whether it’s still difficult to move your head around. You get through it all with no issue.

“I got there seconds after you passed out, he was on the floor beside you so I froze his hands together,” he said like it wasn’t a big deal. “He deserved it,” Zayne countered. “It’s not him I’m worried about, what if it landed you in trouble?”

Your question has his posture relaxed a little. “You should be more worried about yourself,” he flicks you on the head, smiling when you glare in offence. “The police were right behind me, he tried to claim I just attacked out of nowhere but we had all the evidence from the cameras in your apartment. It showed everything, him breaking in and assaulting you. I gave them a witness testimony since I was on the phone with you.”

Your lips tremble as you try not to imagine what would've happened had Zayne never been on the phone with you. How can you even begin to pay him back?

Before you can thank him, your heads snap towards the door sliding open. Yvonne steps through, flashing you a guilty look. “I tried to stop them but they’re no longer taking no for an answer. Said they’ll drop the case without your testimony,” she whispers something else, you can’t be sure but you think she was cursing them out.

“It’s okay, I’ll talk to them,” you respond before turning to Zayne. “Can you stay?”

“Of course.”

To your terrible luck, one of the police officers is the same one that hadn’t taken your complaint seriously. You can’t hide the displeasure or anger, you’re lucky to be still here, had they done their job none of this would’ve happened.

The police fill in the gaps that Zayne didn’t get to, Ha-yoon’s facing charges of assault and attempted rape. With your phone call with Zayne, his testimony to the whole thing, the video evidence and Ha-yoon admitting everything on it, it should stick. They leave after hours of questioning, putting you under a microscope and dissecting every part of you. It leaves you in desperate need of a shower to wash it all off.

The warm rays of the sun offer no solace as you look out the window. Mindlessly, your hands trace over your skin. The media has already picked up the story, your face and name has long been released to the public. One look through your socials confirmed you’ve been thrown to the wolves. People are accusing you of trying to break up a loving family, they’re saying you’re trying to get money out of him, the normal vitriol a victim faces but it gets to you.

The only good thing about this whole thing is that the entire hospital now knows that you and Zayne never dated, that it was a ruse in an attempt to keep Ha-yoon away.

Two days later, you’re only a day away from being discharged when there’s a knock on your door. It means the person on the other end is not anyone that’s visited you so far. You tell them to enter. Leo walks in, a sheepish smile adorning his face, he’s doing the same habit of his, fiddling with his hands. Something he does when he’s nervous.

“Can I sit,” he gestures to the chair, growing more nervous when your face remains impassive. You nod.

“I’m sorry,” he starts. “I should’ve been here, you were trying to tell me before, weren’t you?” You look away from the guilt shining on his face. It makes you waver and you can’t let that happen. “Yeah, I was.”

You don’t see him move from the chair, only noticing when he settles on your bed with you. “I came as soon as I heard. Are you okay?” He tries to caress your face but you move it out the way. His face drops but he honours your request. “I am, you can leave now.”

“Wait,” he lurches forward and grasps your hands together, not caring that he’s crossed your boundary. “Why didn’t you tell me your relationship with Dr Li was fake?” You give him a baffled look. “Are you kidding me? That’s what you’re more concerned about?” you’re practically yelling, all the pent up emotion from the last week finally making its way out. Some part of you feels bad, no matter how selfish he’s being, Leo doesn’t deserve the brunt of all your feelings but the other…the other is happy for a release.

“You couldn’t even be bothered to ask if it was true in the first place, you don’t get to come back and ask for apologies. Get out, I never want to see you again,” by now your voice captures the attention of those outside. Zayne himself enters, confused at first before comprehending the situation. Your current state has him by your side, only the feel of his hands on you calms you down. The nurses usher Leo out of the room and you don’t even spare him a second glance, your attention is on Zayne. You see it then, a quick flash in his eyes. A glint of something.

Almost like satisfaction.

You’ve always had his attention.

Even when he had yet to meet you.

All it took was a meeting with an old friend who passed on your unfinished thesis. He read all twenty pages in one day, your words had him in a trance and he wanted to meet the person with such a fascinating mind.

He cheated by looking at your socials. You didn’t have much of an online presence nor did you post often, none of the photos you posted had your picture in them, all he could settle on was your profile picture. A simple photo of you bundled up under covers, smiling softly at the camera. He didn’t know then why he saved it, or why he found himself looking at it from time to time.

It’s when he sees you for the first time in that lecture room that he makes sense of it. You notice him too, not just because he’s the guest lecturer, but because you know him or maybe he’s just being deluded. He doesn’t affect you in the same way, he wished it didn’t hurt or that he was used to it or even that it was the first time. He allows himself one look at you, you stare at him mystified and it leaves him smug. He’s not above feeling in such a way, you might not look at him in the same way but he’ll take this. He’ll make it enough.

But he didn’t realise that there would be a time where it won’t be enough.

The first time he spoke to you didn’t go in the way he wanted, he was glad none of the coffee burnt you but a sick part of him was glad, you won’t forget him so easily with a first meeting like this. He makes an off hand comment about you joining him at Akso and he knows he has you with the way you light up at his praise.

A whole year goes by without seeing you and he’s never been so restless.

It’s funny, he went years not seeing her, meeting her again by chance and yet he’s barely holding it together now. Looking back, he should’ve realised sooner his infatuation with you, he’s better than that. Perhaps he just didn’t want to admit it.

Loving her had been a constant throughout his entire life, he knew her since they were kids, he knew her. Well enough to know she’d never feel the same way for him but that was okay with him. As long as she remained by his side, he’d have her in any capacity, as a patient or a friend. Maybe that’s why he didn’t see you, you weren’t familiar, what you were was unknown. He should’ve realised that the unknown was what he specialized in, that sooner or later he would want to discover you.

Maybe he could’ve warned himself then, to keep his distance through all the years he’s known you because it’s too late now. There’s only one role you can have is by his side. And it’s not as a friend or a colleague.

He makes sure not to give anything away when you start at the hospital, not even his voice betrays the fact that he’d been keeping an eye on you. Zayne expected you to cry when he yelled at you, he’s not proud of it but he’s raised his voice on several occasions when patients' lives are put at risk by the very people meant to help them and in each occasion they cry but you take it. You don’t flinch, your eyes meet his and all he sees is regret.

You have two special areas in the hospital, one of them is a corner far away where you go to cry. He hears you cry for the little girl, apologising to her in the silence. You’ll make a good doctor.

Two years pass by, you’ve decided to specialise in cardiology with him. A lot has changed in these two years and a lot hasn’t. He’s become somewhat of a mentor to you, you’re not afraid to seek him out and ask for help. Zayne doesn’t think you even realise that the other residents have also started doing the same. He’s not sure why they’re all so afraid of him, all he wants is for them to succeed and he’s thankful you helped them see that in your own way.

You part ways with your friend, Leo. Zayne shouldn’t be happy about it, it clearly affects you. He shouldn’t be happy. He shouldn’t.

But he is.

The first time he saw you together with her, he couldn’t help but compare you two. Yvonne was right, the two of you couldn’t be any different. She was younger or brighter in a sense. It showed in the kindness she held for everyone, her openness pulling in everyone. You were older and not dull but…silent. It was your silence that captured attention, made you a mystery in a way. Which is why you seemed to shine in those little moments where you held warmth for others around you, you were loyal to a fault. Even the way you both laugh are polar opposites, she laughs loud and with force, folding over and holding her stomach or lightly hitting someone around her. You laugh quietly with your hand over your mouth, politely but also a way to restrain yourself.

Zayne still doesn’t realise until he’s in that room and she’s hooked to several machines, unconscious and unable to respond and you’re pulling him to your second comfort area in the hospital. The storage closet you kept a secret from everyone, yet were willing to share it with him. He’s inside the room, the slight crack through the door allows him to see your feet and all he can do is lightly trace where your figure must be on the door. He’s flushed bright red and you have no idea what the mess you’ve made him.

One hand remains on the door, where he hopes your heart might be, and the other rubs quickly on his shaft. He’s holding his shirt in his teeth so that no moans slip out as vile images of you play in his mind. What would you think if he was to pull you in this room and show you the sight of your superior needy and wanton all for you? It’s the imagination of you on your knees that does him in, cum spraying all over his hand.

He’s tainted your room with him.

And you have no idea.

Claiming to be your partner in front of that buffoon that threw you away was done without thinking. Protecting you became second nature and it was what gave him an in. He brushed aside the rage directed at your ex because in truth he was a little grateful to the man. Ha-yoon had ruined you for any other men but Zayne would fix you just for himself.

Because you don’t love him, not now and certainly not after his plan is put in motion. He can’t handle it, he was fine with her not returning his feelings but you’re not allowed to. You don’t love him but he can make you think you do and by the time you realise, it’ll be too late.

He’ll start with Ha-yoon.

“No, I’ll do it,” the idiot had no idea how predictable he truly was. Zayne saw the way man looked at you at the gala, Ha-yoon saw you as property and discarded or not, the moron still saw you as his.

He tries not to delight in the way Ha-yoon’s face drops when Zayne steps through the door but it must show on his face as the other man glares. “Where’s [Name]?”

“She’s busy.”

Too busy for you.

“What brings you here today, Mr Choi?”

“Cut the crap, we both know why I’m here,” Ha-yoon snaps. “I want her back.”

“And you thought harassing her at her work was the way to do it,” Zayne raises an eyebrow, he has a unique way of making anyone feel inferior and the way Ha-yoon shrinks, it’s currently working. “I saw your wife, in what world did you think [Name] would enter a relationship with a man willing to leave his pregnant wife? Do you even know her?”

“I miss her. I never realised how much she did for me until she was gone. She knew me inside and out, how I like my coffee, or how my suit should be ironed and all the things I like. I love her and she loved me once, she can do it again.”

Zayne lets out a cold laugh, the other man involuntarily shivers as the temperature in the room drops. “You claim to love her when all the reasons listed are just the labour she did for you. What you should’ve said is that you miss how she throws her head just a little when she laughs, how mesmerising her smile is that imprints itself into your mind or how no matter how hard you try, her scent will always linger,” he walks closer to the man. Zayne is taller, he’s just…better than this scumbag in every way. “Face it, you left her penniless and broken and it backfired. She fixed herself better than you ever thought possible, she’s too good for you. You knew that from the moment you met her, that’s why you worked so hard to make her into something she’s not.”

With that he walks away and opens the door, looking back at the man. “We’re done here. Show up again and I’ll call security.”

He’s an idiot, Zayne thinks for the tenth time that day as he watches Ha-yoon confront you from the safety of his office. The man had done exactly what Zayne wanted. Ha-yoon’s ego and pride were too big to sustain being damaged, so he would gladly ruin you in response.

And Zayne will be there to comfort you every step of the way.

Zayne likes to see himself as the lesser evil of the two. He’s not so deluded to think himself as a knight in shining armour, no he knows exactly what he is. But that’s the issue with knights in shining armour, they save everyone, they’re willing to sacrifice the one they love for the world. You don’t need that, you need someone who’ll always love you first.

You think no one else realises, Zayne thinks you might not see it yourself, but you’re starved for attention. He noticed the way you lean into hugs, you never initiate affection but you’re always the last one to let go.

It makes him laugh how much Ha-yoon doesn’t see his actions only push you closer to Zayne. He now has access to the cameras installed in your house, he knows your code, the password to your phone just in case, Zayne’s become your safety. Just the way he wanted.

In a twist even he didn’t see coming, Leo takes himself out of the equation and you try to keep in how you’re grieving the loss of friendship but you fold with some soft prodding, right into his arms once again.

The only thing he’s sorry for, the only thing he regrets is how Zayne failed to see that Ha-yoon was pushed too far. His heart dropped when he heard the man banging on your door, his panic and worry were all real as he raced to your apartment. Zayne would’ve killed him, he should have killed him but the police were right behind so he shifted his attention to you. The guilt that manifests upon seeing your state crumpled on the floor, reduced once again to that once small figure Ha-yoon had made of you, Zayne thinks for the first time he might’ve taken things too far.

But the regret doesn’t last long. You don’t leave him alone after. Your hold on his wrist tightens whenever he informs you that he needs to leave, you text him first and you call even more. You need him more than ever and he’s drunk off the feeling.

So, he leaks the story to the press. All he has to do is sit back and watch as your face and name get released. As your address becomes public knowledge and you have nowhere to go. He slyly offers up his guest bedroom before anyone else can.

It’s torture sleeping in the room next to yours, knowing you’re right there but he can’t do anything. He settles on reading a book to pass the time. Except he never realised how unpredictable you can be when his bedroom door opens and you walk in. You don’t say a word as you crawl on his bed and sit right on his lap.

You bring your head closer to his, close enough for your hair to fall on his face. “Do you like me, Dr Li?” you whisper. “Yes,” he confirms, keeping eye contact with you. His eyes fall on your lips, which curl up into a smirk as you notice. “You have no idea how much,” he whispers back, his gaze falling back into your eyes letting you see his devotion.

You bring your lips closer, almost about to kiss him but he blocks it by lightly touching your mouth with his palm. You look at him in confusion but he’s not budging. Because you’re testing him, to see if he’s like the other men in your life. He’s not so disillusioned to think otherwise. But he is cruel enough to make you believe otherwise.

“I didn’t bring you here for this,” his hand moves and his thumb traces over your top lip. “I’m not going to take advantage of you.”

Seeing that he’s not going to give you what you want, you make the first move. Your hand clutches the hand near your mouth, bringing it in and pressing a kiss in the middle of his palm. You hear his breath hitch when you do. “I think I like you, Zayne,” you smile teasingly and gently roll your hips right against his, eliciting a small groan from him. “What if I want you to take advantage?”

His hands settle on the side of your hips, stopping you in place. “You little minx,” he growls. He’s quick to shove you over, nudging your legs to open with his thighs. “You don’t get to take it back,” he whispers against your lips.

He has you now.

Your hands scramble for purchase on the desk but each move only has the man pound harder into you from behind.

The fast movement from his hips leaves you mindless and draped over his desk, your body pliant for his bidding. You bite your lips hard to prevent any sound from leaking, to the displeasure of the man currently bringing you, well…pleasure.

“Zayne,” he says, making you look at him in confusion. “That’s the name of the man making you feel like this,” he brings his mouth to your ear. “Say it, moan it or scream it. Pick one,” his movement stills, pulling a whine out of you.

He’s not going to continue until you adhere, so you give in. “Please Z-zayne,” you tug at his shirt. “Faster,” you whine. He moves his entire body on top of yours, kissing your cheek and nuzzling into your neck. “Good girl,” he praises, smirking as you tighten around him in response.

You let out a moan as he gives you what you want, the desk moving with each hard thrust. The new angle allows him to piston even deeper into you, drawing loud moans from you both. It thrills him that you’re so lost in the pleasure that you don’t even care who hears, it could end your career but you’re too busy moaning like a slut to realise. You’re lucky his office is sound-proof but where's the fun in telling you that?

You can feel the pressure building inside you, you’re close and judging from how his speed picks up as his movements get sloppy, so is he. A sudden thrust has him landing even deeper and it’s your undoing as you cum around his cock with a grunt he cums too. He holds you on his desk for a few minutes, both of you just taking the time to breathe and come down from the high.

His hand comes up to your chin and pulls it to him, bringing you into a kiss. It’s been a few months since you started dating and not a day has gone by where he hasn’t had his way with you. The man is insatiable, needy even when he’s so tired he can’t even move. With how much he’s come inside you, you’re wondering if your birth control can even put up a fight anymore.

You don’t know that he replaced your pills months ago.

He’s always seen himself having kids after marriage but you would never agree to either so quickly so he’ll have to make you.

A year later you stand before the mirror, examining the ring on your finger and the round bump housing something in your stomach.

This was what you wanted.

Right?

AN: Scattered Adolescents = Stray Kids. I just had to, I found it so funny.

And yes, I included exactly how I lost my 50/50 to Caleb, I don’t care that it's been over a week, I’m still salty.

I felt like out of all of them, Zayne would be the one to be subtle rather than forceful so I hope I did it justice. I thought it would be funny to start with reader judging her other self for falling victim to manipulation and then end up in the same position.

Currently watching Lost in space and why is the robot sexy? Guys, why did they make the robot hot? I yearn for the metal.

Happy Juneleb guys! May you all get the birthday card x4 in one pull.

Tag list: @zeverean @quill-for-glory @smittenlynn @nm4565natty @miuangel @noxus123

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crescenthistory · 2 months ago

Note

okkkkk could you argue list C 68 with regulus x legilimence reader (aka mind reading reader) and what regulus would do if he found out his gf could always tell when he's lying. Please? and congrats! amazing job!!

thank you for the request lovely! with how i see reg's characterisation, i cannot picture him taking that kind of information in lightly, so this is perhaps a bit angstier than you were aiming for ahaha. i am also evidently insane, so this is an in-depth character study:,) enjoy!

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i will ARGUE for prompt 68 "this is news to me" with regulus black

carina's 2k celebration

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synopsis: regulus visits your pseudo-family, the mckinnons, with you for the first time, expecting only to struggle with the unfamiliar family dynamics. instead, a part of you previously unknown to him is revealed in passing, and his mind shuts down, memories and fears from his childhood taking over. the conversation that follows is one of the hardest and most significant he would have in his life.

wc: 6.2k

cw: fem!reader, references to walburga and orion's a++ parenting skills, aka mentions of abuse, neglect and childhood trauma, angst, momentary belief of betrayal, fresh relationship, hurt/comfort, references to black brothers angst, regulus pov (including his mental health struggles), you are basically an honorary mckinnon, references to your bad relationship to your bio family (neglect), crying, near-break up, declarations of love, happy ending, the entire fucking mckinnon family tree as supportive characters

Regulus had been waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He had since the beginning of his relationship with you, when he realised the enormity of his feelings and was simultaneously frightened, disgusted and relieved, struggling to balance healing from his childhood and falling in love with his future all at the same time.

A part of him wished to warn you, to urge you away, to shield you from the darkness within him through rejection – but, he was selfish. At least, that is the conclusion he reached for why he couldn’t turn away from you and leave you be, why he invited you in, despite knowing in his chest that the other shoe would drop. Regulus had grown up in the constructed shadow of Sirius, and though he now realises that was not his brother’s inherent fault, he still couldn’t rid himself of the clawing feeling in his chest that he would always have nothing. Always be second, always be the spare, even when Walburga was forced to declare him the heir after Sirius turned his back. He would always be left with portraits instead of bodies.

If you, with all your fascinating and lovely self, opened your arms to him, Regulus could not bring himself to ask you to close them. He would fall into them, all while keeping a cage around his heart and both his shoes on the ground, by the door.

He had expected it to be his fault though. It would be a matter of him not being enough, yet again.

No part of him expected it to be you; for you to be different in a way that he couldn’t stomach.

Regulus sat stiffly but not necessarily uncomfortably in the worn out chair in the McKinnon living room, quietly observing the bustling homely life around him. It was the first time he came along when you visited, wanting to meet the people you spoke so kindly of and see more of the connection that originally brought the two of you together – he still had to thank Dorcas for falling in love with your best friend.

There were more kids than he could count – metaphorically speaking, that is, because Regulus had of course studied up on exactly how many kids would be there and what their names were before arriving – running around his ankles. You were over in the adjunct kitchen, helping Mrs. McKinnon with finalising dinner, while Marlene was outside hounding in the remaining children and cousins. It was loud in a way that kept Regulus’ spine straight and muscles tense, but he could feel his mouth dreaming of curling up into a smile. It wasn’t as awful as he had feared.

He saw your form through the door-less opening, your clothes and hair moving in an elegant flow, a practised choreography. That sight, more than anything else, was what kept him grounded.

Regulus had, of course, asked to help, but Mrs. McKinnon – “It’s Magda, dear, please scrap the formalities” – had ushered him out. “You’re still a guest in this household! This one on the other hand… she’s got to be put to work.” A motherly wink and a bump of her hip into yours as you stuck your tongue out. Natural. Nurturing.

He felt in no position to argue, so he settled down with the children.

“Pst!” He turned to look down at the littlest of Marlene’s nieces, a sweet girl named Mabel with her blonde unruly curls tucked up into two uneven buns on each side of her head. She smiled with an unmistakable air of mischief, lifting her tiny brows at him. “You’re Uncle Reg, right?”

Regulus’ breath caught in his throat as a nervous laugh built in his chest. He wasn’t offended that the little thing didn’t catch his introduction a full 45 minutes ago when he went around shaking hands and waving, but he was confused by his title.

“Uh, my name is Regulus, yes. And you’re Mabel?” He tried to make his voice kind, but was unsure if it was working.

She nodded with beaming pride and happiness, glad to be known. “You’re Auntie’s husband.” She didn’t ask, which bamboozled Regulus further – she looked very pleased to have made the connection.

Regulus leaned forward onto his knees to be closer to her height as he chuckled, still with an air of nerves. “Not quite, no, but I am here with your Auntie, yes.”

Mabel furrowed her brows, contentment slipping away in favour of confusion. “No. Uncle Reggie is my Auntie’s husband. Marly said so.”

Ah. His nerves were being schooled away in favour of internally rolling his eyes at his new-found friend. “Well, Marlene probably just tried to convey that your Auntie and I are very very close, which we are. That’s why I want to be here and meet you all.”

“Uh-huh. When will you marry her then?”

Regulus could feel his heart jump out of his chest – as did Mabel’s when their heads both jumped up at the sound from the kitchen. “Oi, Belly! C’mere sweetheart!”

He looked over Mabel’s already giggling and retreating form as she ran towards you in true toddler-fashion, and saw you winking and grinning at him. He let out a sigh of relief at the same time as you picked Mabel up and spun her around.

“Don’t you be bothering Reggie now, or he won’t come back!” He heard you whisper-yelling conspiratorially to the little girl as you tickled her, high-pitched giggles bubbling up from her lungs along with faux-shrieks of denial.

His muscles remained tense, but Regulus looked down in his lap with a grin before pushing up from his seat to walk over to the kitchen, where Mabel was released and running away all giddily. You looked at him with a smirk over your shoulder, looking gorgeous with your hair slightly messed up from the heat of the kitchen. “The children scaring you away?”

Regulus leaned against the opening with his arms crossed, still keeping everything in the kitchen in eye-sight, lest there be anything he could help with after all. The smile he spared you was hopefully as warm as the oven you had slaved over. “It would take more than little Mabel to scare me away.”

“Here you go, Maggie,” you said over your shoulder as you handed her a knife where she was about to start cutting the final herbs on the opposite side of the kitchen, before turning back to Regulus. “Well, I’m glad to hear that, because we’re all about to sit down for dinner.”

“You are such an effortless team,” Regulus admired your wordless communication, putting on his practised visiting-the-in-laws smile towards Magda. “Please do let me know if there is anything I can help with, Mrs– uh, Magda.”

Magda sighed happily, looking over at you, gesturing with the knife perhaps a bit too absentmindedly. “You picked such a polite one, dear. It hurts my heart! Reg, please, all you need to do is keep us company.”

His gaze diverted down to his feet as a slight flush crept up his cheeks, a smile blooming between them. “Thank you, Magda.”

You looked over your shoulder at her with a loud laugh. “No, keep that to yourself Maggie, you’ll just embarrass him more.”

Regulus furrowed his brows in confusion, the comment seemingly out of place, but Magda laughed so heartily he didn’t have it in him to ask. He didn’t want to bring more attention than necessary to how different his socialisation had been from yours.

Despite her best efforts, Magda could not stop Regulus from helping deck the table as the two of you began magically sending everything out – though, he realised quickly that his definition of decking the table was clearly quite contrasting from yours. The McKinnons did it the simple way, and while unsettled, he wholly appreciated it.

Marlene had since come in with her youngest brother on her shoulders, tugging at her hair. “Snake-boy, you haven’t been eaten by these little lions yet?” She greeted with a grin, dropping her brother off in his seat and whistling to alert the rest of the family that dinner was ready.

“I’ve come to learn I quite like lions,” Regulus replied, his usual snark more readily available with her. “Though I wouldn’t have minded my fellow snakes here.”

Marlene snorted. “Yeah, well, Cassie and Barty had work, so.” She shrugged, pinching his upper arm as she walked past him to herd in the rest. “You’re stuck with us.”

“I think I’ll manage,” Regulus murmured and found that he meant it.

As the entire family settled down at the table, Regulus felt a bit less steady in his ability to remember everyone’s names, but he hoped muscle memory would kick in. When Magda heard you would be stopping by with Regulus, she ensured that all six of the McKinnon siblings, along with their respective partners and children, would show up. Regulus was in no way unfamiliar with large family gatherings, but the volume of their voices and smiles took some getting used to.

It didn’t hurt that he sat beside you – and that your hand came to squeeze his knee as everyone settled in and began chattering away.

There was no introduction, no speech, just immediate good natured conversations and catching up, including from one end of the table to another.

“Pass me the potatoes?” Martin – Regulus remembered; Marlene’s other younger brother, aged 7 – asked, his eyes set on Regulus.

“Of course.” The movement was swift and elegant, bowl outstretched.

When Martin grabbed the bowl, he forgot to thank Regulus and instead asked, “So, what are your intentions with our sister?”

Regulus’ brows furrowed. “I– I’m not dating your sister?”

You squeezed his knee again, suppressing a giggle. “He meant me, dear.”

“Oh.” His cheeks flushed yet again. To be fair, he should have deciphered that one himself. “Well… I intend to care for her for however long she’ll let me.”

Martin seemed displeased. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” you intercepted, reaching out to lightly flick his forehead. “That you should mind your business, you little worm.”

Martin opened his mouth, outraged in a manner only a 7 year old boy can be, lifting his finger in the air. “I–”

“Oh, don’t you dare say that, Martin McKinnon!” You cut him off, already laughing and making the little boy laugh with you, even as he crossed his arms petulantly.

“You’re no fun when you damage control too early,” he mumbled, despite his grin.

Regulus tried to follow the conversation, but found his eyes squinted in confusion.

This is where Margaret – Marlene’s two years older sister – chimed in. “It’s called with great powers comes great responsibility, twat. With legilimency comes the responsibility of shutting silly little boys up!” She reached her hand over past Marlene to pinch Martin’s side, making him shriek and giggle despite himself.

Legilimency.

Oh. Oh.

In a matter of seconds, Regulus’ world came crashing down.

For a brief minute, his mind was painfully empty, unable to think anything or draw forth any memory, all instinctively hidden away, even from himself. Then, he broke through his own walls and had wave after wave of memories hit him – lessons of “close your mind, young boy”, repetitions of “you’re pathetic”, the piercing pain of trying to shut it all out, the stinging hurt of feeling betrayed by the people he instinctively loved. Those memories had a unique ache to them, one he hadn’t dared try to combat yet; but the ones with you hit him harder. “I would never do that to you”, “you’re safe with me”, “I would never lie to you”, “I just get you”.

I just get you.

Except you didn’t – you were a mind-reader.

None of it was real.

Regulus sat frozen to his seat, the tensing of his muscles digging much deeper now. It was not eased in the slightest when your hand returned to his knee, a previous warm touch now disturbingly cold.

“Reg?”

It took an immense amount of force for Regulus to turn his head sideways and meet your eyes, trying to make his as unreadable as possible, trying to close his mind for the first time in months.

“Are you alright?” Your voice was feather-light, a question just for the two of you. A brief glance around told Regulus that no one had noticed his deceptively quiet change. Or, at least, they had the decency to not continue to notice.

An imperceptible nod of his head and a tight-lipped smile. No words.

Your brows furrowed in dismay, clearly unconvinced, but knowing better than to push him in public. You squeezed his knee once more reassuringly before Martin and Margaret dragged you back into conversation.

Regulus truly hoped no one addressed him going forward, because he couldn’t hear anything over the blood rushing in his ears. He wanted to further hope that if they did, you would answer for him and redirect, but he found his heart unable to trust you. It promptly shattered beneath the weight of that knowledge.

The dinner flurried by in a haze, your hand never leaving his knee and Regulus never getting used to its weight, always noticing with a sickening sinking feeling in his stomach.

The one thing that distracted him at last was a tug at his sleeve.

He whipped his head around, probably faster than what would be perceived as normal – to see little Mabel had run out of her seat and now sat at his side. She reached her small grabby hands up towards him. “Upsies!”

You leaned around him, smiling endearingly at Mabel, your hair moving in his peripheral vision. “Oh, Mabel, Uncle Reggie is a bit–”

Before you could make some excuse for him, Regulus leaned down to scoop her up. She was surprisingly light, it was honestly a miracle that such tiny lungs could produce a squeal so loud straight into his ear.

Regulus could feel your gaze burning a hole in the side of his face as he bounced the little girl in his lap. Mabel was giddy, immediately chattering away with you, Marlene and the others sitting nearby, holding onto his arms for support. He couldn’t explain how he was able to pick her up, still largely detached from his body while processing the day's revelations – but she was so young and vulnerable, he couldn’t stand breaking her heart by rejecting her.

When Mabel leaned over to pat your cheeks and blabber with you, Regulus was forced to move his body in your direction. Your hand left his knee in favour of tickling Mabel, but the side of your leg was now pressed against his. As your lips met the little girl’s forehead your eyes met his at last.

What he saw in them is what he any other day would have labelled pure concern. Now, he had a white prickling fear down his spine that those thoughts were not his own. Even if they were, they were not his because they were not private. Another thing stripped from him.

As Mirabel eventually came over to pick up her daughter from Regulus to go put her to bed, you also rose from your seat, getting a head-start on the dishes while Magda still sat, surrounded by grandchildren. Her head perked up when she saw you move about, but you waved her off kindly.

With robotic movements, Regulus got up and followed in your footsteps, not wanting his single visit to be remembered as rude. Picking up plates with much less skill than he had placed them down, he walked towards the kitchen that you were walking out of.

You tried to smile as you walked past him, but he didn’t look at your face.

Regulus’ entire body ached.

It ached even more when he almost collided with Marlene on his way back out of the kitchen. She, unlike the two of you, was not carrying any plates, only herself, as she acted like a door barricading him from the rest. Her light brown eyebrows were furrowed.

“Who pissed in your cereal, Black?”

Regulus couldn’t help himself, despite the circumstances. “I didn’t eat cereal.”

The blonde breathed out in exasperation, hands coming up to rest on the sides of her hips, though her features softened a little. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m alright.”

“What changed, then?”

Regulus stared emptily at her, only to find his own stubbornness mirrored perfectly in her. In this moment, she painfully reminded him of Sirius; a thought he immediately tried to file away.

He sighed. “I just didn’t expect… I didn’t know.”

“Know what?” Marlene’s face slowly morphed into one of uncomfortable understanding, seemingly piecing together what she had come to learn about Regulus and what she knew of her best friend. Her question came out as a whisper. “About the… legilimency?”

He drew a sharp breath through his teeth. “That was news to me.”

Marlene opened her mouth to say something, but Regulus found the audacity to hold up his hand. He hoped his look was more politely pleading. “Please – don’t. I really don’t want to hear it yet.”

She pressed her lips tightly together, evidently distraught at not having the opportunity to defend her best friend. Yet, her internal monologue decided in his favour. “Fine,” she answered tightly. “You better figure it out though.”

With that, Marlene gave him a final look and turned on her heel, looking for some toddler to scoop up and throw over her muscled shoulder. Her retreating form revealed you standing there with some plates near the table, stalling by chatting with Mr. McKinnon, whom Regulus had done his best to avoid. You were looking at him. The ice in Regulus settled in deeper at the thought that you could have been privy to this conversation, too.

He sucked in a breath and turned around to begin washing the dishes.

For whatever reason, you gave him a few minutes of space. With his back to you, he still remained painfully aware of you levitating dishes in to him in the kitchen as he began magically scrubbing them. Trying to scrub away his thoughts the same way, and then his feelings.

You gave him space, but you wouldn’t let him wallow – and thus, just when it felt like the world would never stop spinning, you placed your hand delicately on his shoulder. Everything stopped, for better or for worse. Regulus didn’t turn.

“Hi, love,” you whispered. “Ready to go home?”

Regulus turned around at that, desperate to keep neutral even as his face scrunched in confusion. “Didn’t you want to stay late?”

Your smile was wistful. “You see, I’ve gotten such a headache. Probably have become unadjusted to these environments. Magda has wrapped up some leftovers and gotten the floo network ready for us.”

Regulus’ heart twinged at the excuse you had concocted for him; then, it immediately broke as a voice reminded him that he couldn’t trust this, couldn’t trust you. The voice sounded eerily like his Mother’s.

At a loss, he found himself just barely nodding in agreement.

He summoned enough courage to smile as he entered the living room, seeing most of the adults and older children gathered, some already running up to hug you goodbye. And not just you – Regulus suddenly had Martin and Milly at his feet for goodbye hugs. He went through the motions, politely hugging and waving goodbye, trying to distance himself from his body so he wouldn’t have to feel it.

Despite having no intention of returning, Regulus knew he had to make a good final impressions, so he walked up to Mr. McKinnon and stretched out his hand. “It was a pleasure to meet you, sir,” he said with an as steady voice he could produce at the moment.

The older man looked down at his hand and back up at his face, before using the outstretched hand as leverage to pull Regulus into a tight hug. “It’s Mason to you, son. Come back soon.”

Regulus nodded with a tight-lipped smile, saying nothing else as he turned towards the fireplace. There he received two almost identical hugs from Marlene and Magda, save that Marlene whispered “don’t overthink this” in his ear while Magda whispered “be good to each other, alright love?”

Never before had Regulus appreciated the flurry of travelling with the floo as much as now.

When he landed in your flat beside you, everything felt quiet. Dark.

Your shared living room felt like it was closing in on him and Regulus quite honestly might have thrown up, had that not involved a touch more vulnerability than he was willing to reveal now. Instead, he shrugged, trying to shake the feeling off him, and immediately made a beeline for the bedroom.

“Reg…” you whispered after him.

He didn’t respond; he closed the bedroom door behind him and leaned against it, effectively keeping it shut.

Feeling every bit like the 8 year old currently shaking in the depths of his memory, Regulus slid down the door, settling at the bottom of it, cradling his knees against his chest.

In the acute silence of your flat, he could hear your heavy sigh. He tried to interpret it without letting up on his attempts at occluding, at schooling his mind from you. It didn’t seem angry or disappointed, just… broken. He couldn’t decipher in what way.

Once upon a time, he had become excellent at it, but in the presence of his friends and you, he had let it slip. Somehow it was harder to hide his thoughts around you because his feelings were so screaming loud.

The creaking of the floorboards were unmistakable as you walked up to the bedroom door. He expected your hand on the handle, he expected a confrontation. Instead, he felt a soft thud against the door as you slid down on your side of it in parallel to Regulus himself. His mind began to imagine how you looked, how you leaned against it and slowed your descent down, how your head was turned sideways, looking down at the small gap beneath the frame – but if he began to imagine too much, he would lose his grip on his occlusion.

He drew a deep breath and leaned his head against the door. Closed his eyes. Focussed.

“Regulus, my love.” Your voice was soft and quiet, slightly muffled through the door, but he could hear you alright. “What’s going on in that pretty mind of yours? What happened, lovely?”

A flicker of irritation flamed in him at your word choice and he couldn’t stop himself from the bite in his words, the first real words he spoke to you since. “Can’t you just see for yourself?”

A momentary silence. “What is that supposed to mean?” A little wounded, a little wary.

“You know.” His voice was hoarse. The insistent voice in Regulus’ head was kicking him for engaging with you on this, for not waving his wand to pack his suitcase and run as far as possible. He didn’t want to think about why, but he… he couldn’t do that. Not yet.

He heard you shuffling through the door, as if you shifted sideways to pretend to see him through the door. “My love, is this… is this about the l-legilimency?” Your voice was shaking in a way that made Regulus’ face scrunch up in pain – you seemed scared and he hated it, even if he didn’t get why.

But if you were scared, he was terrified. “Of course it is,” he breathed out, frustration leaking into his voice. “Of course it is. You’ve deceived me.”

“I didn’t deceive you.” Your response was immediate. “I didn’t deceive you, I just didn’t tell–”

“That’s the same thing! You… you kept it from me.” Regulus curled up into a smaller ball, hands coming up to cover his face. Breathe. Close your mind. Breathe. Close your mind.

You were silent for a second. “I have never used it on you. Regulus, I have never read your mind.”

“Bloody convenient that I would never know, huh?” He laughed darkly, spiralling further.

“You could, if you wanted. I would… I would let you try to read mine. Anyone can learn, it’s just that I… I had to be born with it.” Your voice was wavering. It almost brought Regulus clarity, but he couldn’t bring himself to allow it to. “I promise you Reg, I wouldn’t have.”

Slowly, he let his hands fall to either side of his body. He let out perhaps the worst-tasting sentence his lips had formed. “I don’t believe you.”

This time, you were silent for longer.

You sounded painfully choked when you at last spoke up. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” Regulus whispered in the same tone, and that was himself talking, not any voices.

The unmistakable sound of you beginning to get up rang through the silent flat, and panic surged through Regulus’ heart. Your name blurted out past his lips before he could stop himself.

“W-wait.” He turned to face the door, sitting cross-legged and leaning his forehead against the wood. It was terrified defiance, self-perceived stupidity and relentless love that drove his speech. “Don’t go. Not yet, please.”

If you had walked away now, Regulus was sure he would have crumbled, he would have had to apparate to Barty’s and never look back. Instead, you let out a breath he was beginning to suspect was a sob and sat back down. He felt the soft thud of you leaning against the door once more – he hoped it was your forehead, that yours were pressed together with only the wood separating you.

“Explain. Please.”

Your breathing was ragged enough that Regulus knew you were crying, rubbing your face to rid yourself of the tears before they could fall too far, like you always did. “I’m sorry,” you repeated, voice high-pitched. “I didn’t… I don’t tell people. Anyone. Because of… because…”

Because of this exact moment.

You seemed to try to stabilise yourself. Regulus ached to reach for you but remained silently rooted in place, save for the way he nudged his forehead against the door as if it was your skin.

“Why did you think I’m so close with the McKinnons?” you asked after what felt like an eternity of silence and brazing yourself. “Why do you think I’m not close with my family?”

Regulus didn’t have an answer to that. In his friend group, no one had a good relationship with their biological families and, if it could be helped, no one talked about it. A realisation began to settle in. “I just assumed… I just assumed they were bad.” He cringed at how weak of a response that was.

You laughed a bit dryly. “No, they were entirely justified. Who would want a freak for a daughter?”

If a single sentence could have changed his mind, it would have been that one. His eyes squeezed shut in pain as he shook his head. “Amour, you’re not–”

“No?” You cut him off, tone a bit pointed. Regulus could understand why. “Some people train for years to master legilimency but I came out of the womb seeing and understanding everything. It freaked me out and once they realised, same thing there. Only the McKinnons had enough children to not care for an oddball or two.”

Regulus trained his eyes on the little gap beneath the door. He placed one hand near it, not close enough to slide his fingers beneath, but enough for his fingertips to dream of it.

“They were kind to me, Regulus,” you whispered in a hauntingly sweet voice. “That’s why I… wanted you to meet them too.”

“They are kind,” he agreed at last, voice hoarse and rough.

The breath you let out at that thankfully sounded more like a choked laugh than another sob. “I tried to get rid of it, you know. I learned to control it, not because I wanted to, but because I had to. I couldn’t stand living like this. So I… I don’t do it anymore. I hold back. I don’t read minds, I don’t read feelings or instincts unless I absolutely have to or… unless that person wants to. The McKinnons want to and with them it’s never been… something bad. It usually makes me feel sick, but it feels good with them. I don’t tell people because I don’t want them to know that I can do it, not because I don’t want them to know that I am doing it. I swear to you Regulus, I swear, I have never read your mind.”

At last, tears spilled down his cheeks. Searing and stinging, dripping over porcelain skin and splattering softly against the floor. “You should have told me, amour.” It was all he could say.

“I’m sorry.” He supposed that was all you could say.

Regulus fought for power over his own voice as tears continued spilling. He fought for power over his mind that was still screaming at him that you could be lying, he fought for power over his heart that knew you weren’t but was busy splintering at the pain you’ve carried. Of all the things he prepared himself for this afternoon, this conversation was not it.

“I am sorry,” he managed to force out at last, urgent. “Trust… trust is everything to me, and it is nothing because I almost never have it. That isn’t your fault, it’s– it’s probably my parents. I don’t talk of them. I don’t want to talk of them, you know this, but they– they would use anything against me. Anything I said or did, but also anything I thought or felt. It terrifies me that someone might have control of me.”

It cut him so deep to speak those words out loud, to share them with someone else, but either you had read his mind and already knew, or you were true, in which case you deserved to know. He heard you sniffle through the door.

“I would never.” Your voice was adamant despite how it broke. “I would never. You’re the one with control over me. I love you so deeply Regulus, I would never intentionally hurt you.”

“That’s what she would say,” he whispered. Not because he didn’t believe you, but because he needed to say it.

Your hand came down to rest near enough the gap beneath the door that he could see your fingers. “Did you feel loved by her?”

A sob. “No.”

Your next question was tentative, fragile. “Do you feel loved by me?”

It scared him that it was an immediate answer for him. “Yes.”

Your fingers scooted beneath the door, an open invitation. Slowly, as if this was the major decision, Regulus moved his fingers to brush against yours, to rest side by side under the door.

“I’m sorry I didn’t think to tell you before we went,” you whispered with a renewed energy. “I can’t say I’m sorry for not telling you right away, because I wouldn’t have been able to – but you didn’t deserve to find out like this and I should have known better. I am so sorry for putting you through this.”

Regulus’ fingers pushed more firmly against yours, tear tracks on his face drying slowly. “You didn’t put me through anything.”

You laughed quietly, shortly, unsure of how much was allowed, unsure what would happen. He didn’t really know either, acting on his heart’s instinct in a way wholly unfamiliar to him.

“I’m sorry for reinforcing your fears,” he whispered then. “You’re not a freak. To me personally or in general. You’re not. You’re beautiful and wonderful and so capable. Legilimency isn’t… freakish, it’s a skill and a weapon. It’s the weaponisation that scares me.”

“Will you be able to live with the fear?” you asked, voice small. “I promise I will never weaponise it, never use it on you, but… is that enough?”

Regulus was quiet.

Then – “Can we open the door?”

“It’s up to you, my love.” Your voice sounded more defeated than he liked.

He withdrew his fingers and slowly lifted himself back up, slightly lightheaded as he reached for the handle. Tentatively, he turned it and opened the door inward, finding you sat in the exact same position he had been, cross-legged in front of the door.

You began to sit up, but before you could, Regulus quickly sat back down in front of you – this time, without the door separating you. Your legs were pressed against each other and slowly, ever so slowly, he reached out to place his hands over yours folded in your lap.

The sight of your face, riddled with many more tears than what Regulus had caught through the door, eyes shining with uncertainty was enough to tear him apart. He squeezed your hands.

“I– I love you.” The words were thick, incredibly hard to form on his tongue. “I do. And that is your greatest weapon against me, probably much more than legilimency could be. I didn’t think I could withstand it, but now… I don’t think I can do anything else. I can’t lose you.”

A few more tears rolled down your cheeks. Your lips trembled, but curled into a small smile nonetheless. With delicate movements, you turned your hands so that you could intertwine your fingers with his. “You couldn’t lose me. Even if you left, I would still have been yours, just a lot more heartbroken about it.”

Regulus laughed wetly. “We’re not wired right, amour. We’re just not.”

You leaned forwards and Regulus met you halfway, foreheads finally touching. “It doesn’t matter,” you whispered. “We can rewire each other together. You just… have to believe me. Trust me.”

He closed his eyes, leaning more heavily against you. “I trust you. I do trust you, it’s just– it’s just my mind that doesn’t. And not because of you, it can’t trust anyone. Not even Barty, not even Pandora. Not even Sirius.”

You let out a breath of laughter. “I know all about battling your mind. If your heart trusts me, I reckon that’s enough for me.”

Regulus drew you closer, moving his fingers up to hold your wrists, delicate long fingers spreading out over supple skin. “If you are trying to figure out if you are enough for me, amour, then of course. Of course you are, yes. That’s why it would break me so if you weren’t true, if you had been deceiving me – you’re not just enough for me, you’re all I need.”

He could feel your tears landing on his forearms as you gently nudged your nose against his in response.

“Please,” he whispered, not knowing what he was pleading for.

Somehow, you still gave it to him. You tipped your chin upwards and let your lips meet his in a slow, wet kiss. Every movement spoke of dozens of layers of emotions, layers that were stripped back and doted on as your hands continued its caress up his arms and shoulders to cup his face and hold it like it was yours.

Regulus sighed into the kiss, leaning more of his weight against you as he enveloped you, inviting him into his very being despite how hard he fought to keep you out earlier. The Walburga-like voice in his mind was drowned out as he tried to repeat mantras over and over to wash it away.

Her, her, her, her.

Mine, mine, mine, mine.

Safe, safe, safe, safe.

When you came apart, you kept peppering small soft kisses around his lips, cheeks and nose, catching the last of Regulus’ tears as they fell. Your hands cradled his face so gently it almost hurt, but this was a kind of pain he welcomed.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated breathlessly.

“Please don’t be,” you whispered back, moving to kiss his closed eyelids with reverence.

“I always will be.”

“As will I.”

Regulus opened his eyes to frown at you. With a slight smile, you leaned in to kiss it away. He let you and hummed as he deepened the kiss, holding you close.

It was a tender, fragile night as the candles around your flat were finally lit and you changed into more comfortable clothes to hold each other on your wide window sill, looking at the stars as you talked it through.

The atmosphere remained somewhat tense, but in the same way you are tense after almost losing your partner on the battlefield, not the tension that comes from any lingering hostilities. Regulus kissed your shoulders softly each time he wanted to speak but didn’t know how, lips pressed against skin in silent apologies and declarations and promises.

You believed him – and you trusted that he believed you.

453 notes · View notes

syluses · 4 months ago

Text

june seems too late

caleb (xia yizhou) x female reader (mc)

for your graduation, caleb takes two weeks off to visit. things don’t go like they should.

▻ cw. noncon elements, pseudo-cest, light smut/nsfw, dark themes, caleb is a yandere what’s new, lots of pining and unrequited love, characters are 18+

▻ notes. hey yall so caleb’s mullet is actually killing me in catch-22. anyways heed the warnings & do enjoy 🤍 you can read this on ao3 (username caked) if you prefer that :3 homeboy is actually insane but i love him he’s precious . 10k words slowburn buckle up. im planning to post lotssss of caleb, raf, and sylus stuff so keep an eye peeled!! :P

𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔 + 𝒓𝒆𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 (๑´ `๑)♡

June comes at a breakneck speed.

Before they step out the door, she’s fussing all over the wrinkle in her robe and worrying that the cap will sit weirdly on her head.

In the car, on the way there, she doesn’t voice any more of her fears lest they intensify, but Caleb spots them all as if they’re written on her face. She fidgets and does not notice the way he looks at her.

Probably for the better, he thinks.

When they part, he gives her a pat on the shoulder (as opposed to rustling her meticulously-styled hair) and tells her not to worry. She’ll do great. This is a big day for her; he pleasantly remembers his own ceremony and urges that hers will be just as smooth.

It seems good enough for her. She’s dragged off by her friend, skipping hand-in-hand, and her nervous giggles ring in his head in a building full of noisy people. It might as well be a little pin dropping in a quiet room.

Sometimes Caleb almost forgets just how much stock that girl- his precious little meimei- puts into him and his words. It stirs something tender in his heart, and then he recalls his true feelings and it twists. Twists like a knife or the bitter truth.

There’s only a couple years between them, and yet during her graduation, Caleb can’t help but feel a sense of pride tug in his chest alongside something deeply bittersweet.

She’ll for sure be spreading her wings now. She’ll for sure be leavin’ him behind.

And he’ll have to say yes to it, that it’s fine with him. Pretend like he doesn’t care. He’s got a natural talent at dissimulating his intriciate, troublesome feelings, but it doesn’t mean he enjoys it. No, sometimes he just wishes she’d… see him. See him for what he truly is and not run in the other direction screaming, who are you and what did you do to my gege?

But that’s selfish, isn’t it? He huffs with a small, wry smile.

While waiting for the event to commence, Gran eagerly watches the stage, and Caleb lowers his head.

She’ll be spreading her wings for real, an inner voice murmurs again, rubbing it in his face. And then she’ll fly away. Never come back to you. Leave our nest to make a new one.

That, oh, that thought— Caleb’s not a generally angry person, but that has choler flaring in his chest... Imagining somebody standing by her side that isn’t him fills him with a darkness he cannot label. But he’s trying to be good, a good older brother. He’s been… trying for so long, and…

Even if he knows deep down that if he doesn’t do something, she’ll fly away—

“Beautiful, isn’t she?” Gran says beside him. She tucks her hand in the crook of his strong arm and he returns half the dimpled smile on her face.

Her words cannot be truer. His little sister is breathtaking; it’s the kind of beauty that will bring a man to his knees and plant soft longing in his heart. Evidently, though, it’s not the kind of beauty to bring a dog to heel…: she’s like a bowl of kibble and something rotten in him salivates at the smell of it.

It’s funny, you know, how much of a hypocrite he is. He gives her the saddest puppy eyes to get what he wants but there’s a big mean dog hiding in his heart. Barking and wanting.

Caleb curses himself. On the outside, he hums fondly. “Always. Hm… To be able to say I’m her big brother feels like an accomplishment in itself. I’m real proud’a her.”

Gran’s not looking at him; all eyes in the auditorium, including his, are leveled towards the stage and the spotlight raining over students shuffling in gowns. Caleb is thankful for that. Caleb has had a distinct self awareness since middle school, and he knows better than to let the love in his eyes- the kind that’s not entirely brotherly- reveal itself to any onlookers.

He’s kept on his toes by all the secrets he walks with. He’s kept on his toes by her.

“I can’t believe this day has come,” the elderly woman beside him (not tied to him by any biological means, but he loves her regardless) holds a tissue to her eyes and fights a teary smile. Caleb, utterly entranced by the familiar figure slowly inching closer to the podium and administrator, gives a noncomittal hum to show he’s heard, but his heart is knocking at the sight of his little sister. He can’t stop it. He can’t even slow it.

“Ah, my sweet girl…” (And why her sorrow-tinged, doting words echo some of the ones he keeps to himself, Caleb stopped caring.)

Gran, still not glancing at her adopted boy (albeit, there is close to nothing about Caleb that now resembles a boy), takes his large hand in her wrinkled one. Her free one dabs away an elusive tear.

“It’ll be even harder to see once she moves out and all. I’m sure she’ll want to keep exploring the world. I just… I just hope she visits more than you do, dear,” her voice warbles with sadness, but she’s only teasing him out of love.

A breathy, uneven laugh escapes his pursed lips. Caleb swallows thickly, “Yep. But that’s natural, wantin’ to find new opportunities and such... She’s really coming outta her shell, isn’t she? And… she’d better visit,” he says playfully, “The dinner table would feel awfully quiet without her during the holidays, huh?”

He’s not conscious of half the things he’s saying, operating under autopilot: robotically, he speaks in the voice of a teasing, somewhat protective older brother and nobody bats an eye to it.

On the inside, his feelings experience endless turbulence.

But he’d miss her if she left, that’s for certain. Words could never do him justice. He’s never exactly deserved that, though, has he?

He smiles to himself. Pathetic.

He told a nosey friend, once, that he had lost his marbles long ago. He’d said it with a smile- a genuine one, too- and as if it was no big deal. Because Caleb reconciled with his sin nature long ago.

He’s so proud of his meimei. So caught up by her.

Wants to marry her. Wants to blow all his pilot earnings on a big glittering ring for her precious little finger, wants to make all those childhood games, the ones where he played the dad and she the mom, come to life. Oh, if he’s being perfectly honest, he wants to—

“Caleb, honey, are you coming?”

A papery hand gives his bicep a gentle squeeze beneath his button-up. He’s pulled from his reveries and he blinks, noting the crowd as it begins to thin out and the stage that meimei has stepped off of. “She’ll be waiting for us, I’m sure. And nervous,” she explains with a light laugh, “but I think she’s very excited, too.”

(So excited to start your new life apart from me, huh, sis?)

The lower half of his face reshapes into a small smile as he looks down at Gran and nods with reassurance. He’s so good at providing consolation to others but somehow consistently fails to do so during his lone moments of self-reflection.

“I’d promised her I’d treat her to some ice cream at that new stall that just opened up,” he chuckles, and this time it does harbor some real mirth there, his eyes lighting, “I honestly think she was more excited for a special dessert than her own graduation.”

Gran laughs at that, too.

Then, he’s led away. Led to her and happy as a child.

After the ceremony ends, his very real fears of her suddenly leaving are put to rest for a moment when she leaps into his arms- just as she did when they were younger- and locks him in a hug.

He’ll always be a willing prisoner, in that regard. A slave to her affections and the strange sickness that rears its head in the pit of his stomach even when he tries his best to drown it.

She’s his lifering. The one thing keeping him afloat.

He looks over his shoulder, back at the shore. There’s a striking realization that he’s been dragged so far from it… And then he looks back out to sea.

Sometimes, Caleb thinks he’s closer to the point where the waves converge on the endless horizon than he is to dry land. And that’s fine with him. Because Meimei is holding his hand, doggy-paddling beside him.

He knows he shouldn’t try to drag her under. But sometimes, that’s all he fucking wants. For her to feel this way, too.

What a selfish gege.

✷✷✷

Caleb’s frame is hugged by an intense, golden light. Windchimes tinkle in the breeze and bring a nexus of soothing sounds.

The air is balmy. Unsmistakably summer.

You kick a pebble from your shoe and look over to Caleb with a small smile, his long legs keeping an even pace with you despite your slower one and all the dillydallying. The sun flares off one side of his head and it’s so bright you have to squint.

“It’s nearly time for dinner, you know,” even as he reminds you, he can’t fight off the grin playing at his own lips. It’s not exactly like he wants to truncate this moment with you, but hunger is creeping up on you both just as sundown is, and this brisk walk is urging it out. Your belly has voiced as much. After his laugh had died down, Caleb showed his concern but sighed when you brushed it off.

“It’s fine,” you tell him again. “I’m not fully dependent on snacks, you know,” and a dirty voice in the back of his head, a very dark corner, accuses, then what do you depend on? “We won’t starve if we eat one hour later... I mean, how hungry are you?” You poke.

(A lot. So much, Meimei.)

A casual smile curls his lips. Everything about him is so outwardly relaxed when he’s with you; it’d take some intense scrutiny to pick up on the little tells of restlessness he constantly shoehorns down inside him.

Anything to protect you though, right? Even if that means from himself.

He replies with thought, “Ehh… I guess walking a little farther wouldn’t hurt,” he shrugs with one shoulder, a teasing edge to his voice because those old habits die hard.

“Just don’t tell me to carry you if your feet start to hurt, pipsqueak.”

“Hah. As if! You know, I’ve been training a lot. Those hunter exams might even be harder than the Aviation’s.” Your light banter is rewarded with a small, incredulous laugh and a playful raise of his brow. Right now, he looks so boyish, youth lighting his face even as you pass under the tinsel-like leaves of a shady willow tree. “I’m serious, Caleb! My body’s probably more endurant than yours now.”

A challenge is brewing, and the signs are obvious. The anticipating glint in his eye, the slight posturing in his steps and the downright valorous grin you pin at him— all are suggestive of an upcoming game. He just has to throw his own hat over the wall to officially mark its start.

Of course, he does just that.

“Oh, really now?” He smiles and his eyes crinkle with amusement. He gives his head a tilt. “Are you trying to provoke me, sis? ‘Cause I’ll have you know that these muscles aren’t just for show...”

With a pout, you give his arm, thick and fully exposed under the frayed fabric of his tank, a harmless shove. Caleb’s heart has an anomalistic skip and his bicep tingles. It takes a considerable amount of effort to not snatch your little wrist up and force you to do it again.

“Oh, c’mon, you may be all big and strong now, but all that muscle will just slow you down.” (You’re getting him all sorts of riled up today, aren’t you? It��s good to know you look at him, that you acknowledge the man he’s become.)

“Do you wanna test that theory? We could do a race,” he suggests simply, a fluctuation of excitement in his voice betraying itself. “Because I’m ready to go right now.”

You huff, competitive as ever. “Oh, we’ll see about that!”

You roll your cropped sleeves an inch over your shoulders (as if to replicate his sleeveless tee) and Caleb watches with humor as they unfurl immediately. You dart your head around and land on a streetlamp at the end of the quiet, cobbled path.

”There,” you point, “that light over there will be the finish line. You have to touch it before the other person does or you lose. You’ll be a rotten egg.”

“You’re so childish.”

“You’re racing too, y’know.”

“Alright, alright,” he easily surrenders, lifting his palms up. Truthfully, he has no intentions of backing out now, try as he might to pretend he’s not equally invested in this as you. He sets his feet behind a crack in the paved stone, right beside yours, and nonchalantly prepares himself for liftoff. “But when I win—“

“Your toe’s in front of the line, Gege! Don’t think I didn’t see it!”

“—Don’t go cryin’ to Gran like old times and ignore me for the rest of the day, okay?”

A fleeting pink colors your cheeks, flowering across your face like a bruise at the mention. “Geez,” you deflect bashfully, “You’re so caught up in the past, Caleb.”

The accusation isn’t unwarranted. Your older brother has this strange penchant to keep all your childhood traits like a bag of tokens in his back pocket, forever ready to pull one out on a whim.

His gaze lowers for a moment at your innocuous teasing, and you watch with a mix of confusion and guilt as an offhand sadness weighs in his expression.

You open your mouth, about to find something to remedy the ever so slight shift in the air, but he lifts his head and his eyes are cheerful. Sunny and bottomless.

He looks at you infinitely. It’s as startling as it is endearing.

Your brow relaxes when you give him a once-over and sense no lingering sorrow there, or any evidence that it even appeared to begin with. Maybe it’s just the heat getting to you.

“Well,” he smiles, teasing to a fault. “You ready, or… do you plan on chickenin’ out? I’ll let you if you admit defeat right now. Otherwise, don’t be a sore loser.”

You wave him off and level your eyes forward. “Psssh, sore loser….” Thrill beats in your ears with a rushing current of blood. You plant your hands to the gritty cobblestone and lean forward.

“The moment you agreed,” your little grin sparks back to life, “you lost, Gege.”

Oh, and he is just the rotten egg, isn’t he? The perverted dud and the lying, selfish asshole.

The wormy apple.

✷✷✷

There’s just some things in life you can never quite wipe from your memory.

Here’s one: The first time Caleb was called a sister-fucker.

He remembers that day and how condemning it felt. Like he’d been made the object of some irrevocable curse. It was unwarranted, it was: some stupid playground bullies were mouthing off after he rushed to your rescue for the umpteenth time, and the word flew like a witch would on a broom. Caleb was not prepared for that stab in his little heart.

That was in middle school, and he was angry. Ashamed, too. All sorts of clashing feelings, really. Those little brats said the f-word in front of you, his innocent little meimei, and to make matters worse, Caleb was not sure if the majority of his anger should lie with their accusation or his inability to determine whether it was grounded or not.

He was hardly fourteen, then, and you were twelve. He never laid his hands on you that way. No, never thought about it. He hardly had the capacity to, at that time.

At that time.

But that moment stayed with him,… and that dirty, dirty epithet was one that remained around the block until one day something peaked in him- that shame climbing to its point- and he beat it from their mouths.

It never did end up getting back around to you. For a number of reasons, Caleb is glad for that. Just to name a couple: It saved him from the flaming red ears, and the awkward chat the bird-and-the-bees topic surely would have been.

When it got around to Gran, though…

‘Caleb, dear, is there…’ The elderly woman, for all her experience in fostering children, was not exactly sure how to broach the subject- which was oddly risqué, and downright horrifying it if were to be true- with her young boy.

But she didn’t think it was true: sure, the two were exceptionally close, she trailed him like a lost puppy and he had some underlying impulse to anchor himself beside her at any given time, but they laughed and played and Caleb was always the archetype of a- sometimes cheeky, sometimes clingy- older brother.

Their behavior was considered very normal for their circumstances, she’d thought. They seemed inseparable upon the first meet. With their close bond came the occasional spat and meaningless argument, but that only served as more proof of their strictly sibling dynamic, too.

Gran thought about it for only a moment before finding her peace, and shortly after her words.

‘Why are those boys saying such things? What did you do to make them have it out for you?’ She was gentle but firm with him. Caleb was not afraid of her; just maybe the awful, creeping feeling in his gut that told him he was in the wrong after all.

‘N-Nothin’, Gran… They got upset because I wouldn’t let them pick on Meimei… Don’t worry though, I covered her ears so she wouldn’t hear them.’

But it’s not like he ever imagined actually laying his hands on you— L-Let alone fucking. Even as a boy, he had the sound-enough subconscious to shut away those fleeting, invasive thoughts and put some space between you two when he was feeling… extra confused.

Caleb’s twenty-one now, though. And you’re nineteen and things are different. Those tender, innocent feelings of love from your shared youths- the one-sided romance of your bond- has by now fully realized itself. It’s bled out into ruby-red fingers of desire like watercolor on a page, and they grasp Caleb tight. Refuse to let go. He’s not a boy anymore. And he’s not particularly kind anymore, either. His softness is a luxury that only you’re entitled to but every touch feels like a beatdown because of it.

Yeah he might be overbearing sometimes but you’re just as abrasive. You cut him in ways you could never know.

But Caleb’s not a sister-fucker. He’s not.

And he’s not all the shame associated with that title and the big fat cluster of intricate emotions like guilt, loneliness, and terrible, terrible longing… H-He’s not.

No— He hasn’t even fucked you yet.

✷✷✷

Two weeks. Caleb is allotted two weeks off from his responsibilities at the Aerospace Academy to spend the start of summer with you.

Late June marks your graduation and the beginning of an exciting break the both of you had been planning for months to share. Between a taxing schedule and study papers that pile up if he so much as thinks about holding off on them, Caleb is a bit pressed for free time. He’d been counting down the days until he arrived back in Linkon.

Now that it’s finally here- your mini summer ‘vacation’, as you’d called it- he won’t take any of it for granted.

He’s savored every little moment with you since childhood- no stranger to the sentimental. But as you emerge from your bedroom with a cute bikini with a white frilly skirt that hardly covers your ass, Caleb decides this memory needs to be given a little extra care.

You flutter past him and down the hall, sheepishly nodding for him to follow, and he realizes he’s been staring a little too long without saying anything. He plasters on a nonchalant grin and sticks his hands in the pockets of his swim trousers. “Okay, sis…” He compliments in his tone.

“You, uh… you ready to go now?” He asks, propping himself against the kitchen arch to watch you pour yourself some water. He reminds that there’s juice in the fridge and you quickly forego the tap. He chuckles at that.

You try to hide a shy smile from him, too much energy in your heels to not sway as you move around the kitchen. There’s a small ball of nerves in your belly and you can’t help but feel a bit naked in your two-piece. You bought it because you’d thought it was adorable, but truthfully you feel a bit out of place- under scrutiny, maybe- as you uncap the fruit juice.

“I’m ready,” you announce casually. “But did you see my bathing suit?”

“W-What about it? Yeah, it… looks nice.” He answers a bit breathlessly.

You look over your shoulder before picking up your glass and marching over. His gaze flutters when you do, like he’s bracing himself for something. In stature, he’s nothing like the round-faced kid you grew up with, standing over six feet tall with lean muscle to hug his broad frame, but right now, he looks almost boyish with anticipation.

On the way to him, you stuff down that inexplicable kernel of unease. You pretend your pulse isn’t fastening, too.

A quasi reaction of fight-or-flight stirs in your chest. For the life of you you don’t know why. Maybe you don’t wanna know.

You smile. Gege, solid arms folded over his muscled chest, regards you with a strange look. It disappears under a veneer of brotherly charm— gone like a feverish hot flash of something unreal.

You stop a few inches in front of him. “See?” You chirp, piking your shoulder up for him to observe. “The red polka dots are actually apples. Since you like them so much.”

After a pause- one that seems to stretch infinitely but is actually only brief- you watch Caleb’s cheeks turn to rubies. Heat flares at his ears.

He sets his jaw and lets out a small scoff, eyes flitting everywhere. “W-What are you sayin’, pipsqueak? You got it… just for me?”

“Ugh, no, Caleb!” You giggle with a hint of disbelief. “I just thought it was cute but wanted to show you.”

With an annoyed pout, you spin away from him and head for the island. On top of it, a cooler sits, its lid open. You nurse from your icy drink as you wedge a variety of cold beverages and the sandwiches he made at the bottom.

“Yeah, yeah,” he recollects himself and joins you at the counter, coming to your aid without prompting. “Well, I think it’s cute too. But don’tcha think it’s a little… showy? I’ll be sweating bullets the whole time we’re at the beach.”

You laugh under your breath, only half paying attention. Certainly not to the intense glint in his eye as he watches your profile, anyway. “Why? And you won’t be sweating if we’re in the water.”

“I don’t want any guys gettin’ the wrong idea,” he lilts, but there’s a notable tinge of seriousness there. “Thinkin’ my pipsqueak isn’t off limits.”

A soft pink warms your cheeks this time. “It’s fine, Caleb,” you murmur, dutifully ignoring his gaze- which you are now exceedingly aware of. “Everyone’ll be minding their own business- they’ll hardly be looking at me.”

Wryly, Caleb closes the cooler and raises his brow.

“Doubt it.”

He seems as if he has a lot more to say, but apparently holds off on it.

When you return home, it’s close to five and Gran has finished her errands. She sits in the living room on the lovechair, holding a cushion on her lap as she watches the news.

You hardly have time to greet her on the way down the hall: you bump shoulders and race with Caleb for the bathroom shower. Maybe he’s going a little easy on you (per usual), but you’re too tunneled in on reaching it in time to scold him for it.

“Ladies first!” You say with victory, grinning through the crack in the door as it groans with pressure, halfway open. Caleb crams his elbow in it to show he won’t give up so easily. You’re met with his bunched brow, his sun-dried, messy hair and a grudging smile he can’t quite fight off.

“Be a good gege and wait your turn!” You tell him.

The title weakens him. His hand falters and you manage to shut the door. The lock clicks softly.

“Alright, alright,” his voice sounds muted from the other side. His footsteps, retreating down the hallway after a belated few seconds, emit defeat.

Maybe some frustration, too.

Either that, or his feet have just gotten heavy.

“But if you use up all the hot water,” he warns, “I won’t let you help me with dinner. Just remember that. And let’s be real, I know you’re hungry.”

Well, he has you beat there. Maybe he knows you just as well as you do him.

It’s an endearing thought, actually; as the warm water pours, you slough away the sticky layer of sea salt and the sand glued to it with a smile. Once these two weeks are over, you’ll go right back to your normal life: your brother will return to the clouds and you’ll have to pretend, between a steady stream of pining texts and phonecalls meant to check in on you, that you don’t miss your gege. Even if sometimes, all you want is to leap back into time and hold his hand, cower behind his shoulder to escape the daunting fear of growing up.

You have responsibilities now. Dreams you’re meant to follow. You’ll train to be a hunter and then officially enroll into their program. Caleb will become a bonafide pilot within a couple months, achieving his lifelong dream, and might leave you in his proverbial contrails.

It’ll be just you and Gran, until you pack your boxes for an apartment downtown closer to your future workplace. Family will become a distant memory, a fading speck on the horizon or a phantom pain that tugs at your heart.

But… maybe that’s just what growing up means. Letting go of everything behind you. Caleb would certainly be able to relate with the sentiment that- other than each other and Gran- there was little to hold onto in the first place.

But… You’re not so sure about all of it. Maybe you’ll have to ask your gege for advice around the dinner table. You have no clue what will happen a month or year down the line, and to be perfectly honest that terrifies you, but for now—

You’ll make the most of this break with him and Gran all together.

✷✷✷

Half of it flies by in a blur.

Movie nights with buttery popcorn and long strolls by Bloomshore turn into fuzzy lines as soon as you look back at them. Once-quiet suppers with just you and Gran are revived with the cheerful presence of your brother, and the cabinets are filled with new snacks the two of you buy on impulse to test out.

You chase him around your cozy, childhood home demanding he deletes those awful pics of you- and the woman who took you both in as children calls from the couch for him to stop terrorizing you already.

He always swears it’s in good fun, but submits to your whining. Not without a flick to your forehead, though. It never hurts, but you make sure to stick your tongue in his face.

Evenings are spent on the floor by the coffee table.

Caleb busts out an old, wooden box from the closet and speaks in a wistful tone as you pass nostalgic photos and yellowed notes between each other. You’re about to poke at him for being so sentimental, but you spot a little mist in his eyes, so you refrain.

There’s six days left, tonight.

Neither of you remind the other of this ticking clock of sorts, but sometimes it will get quiet after a bout of laughter and you think you can feel it in the blanketing tension— the wordless countdown to zero.

X amount of days until I leave for Skyhaven. And, X amount of days until Caleb leaves us again.

You can hear it snicking like a stopwatch- and not the one Caleb wears.

A fan on the floor cools the balmy evening, but just a little.

You lie on your belly- utterly stuffed from another delicious meal- on his bed while he assembles a model. It’s some aircraft that you can’t hope to remember the name of, but he’s always gravitated towards that kind of thing, in more ways than one.

You kick your feet and moan with boredom when his eyes take on a very concentrated look and he hunches over the figure in his hands. He pokes his tongue out the corner of his mouth, he’s so engrossed.

Many minutes seem to pass. “Are you almost done, Caleb? We were ‘sposed to watch a movie tonight.”

Without glancing up, he chuckles lightly. “Be patient, pipsqueak. You know, it’ll go faster if you help me out here,” he suggests, nodding towards a few wayward pieces on the edge of the mattress. He scoops them up before they call fall off.

”Or are ya just gonna watch me do all the work?” He looks up to you and smiles. It’s soft. Smitten, almost.

You huff. “Fine. Okay, I’ll help.”

“Knew ya wouldn’t leave me hangin’.”

Seemingly pleased, his purple eyes stare for a moment longer before lowering. They remind you of the nebula sometimes: all bottomless and resplendent, and sometimes they get a little starry if you catch them for too long.

You’ve seen them darken like black holes before, though; some deep chasm taking over whenever his protectiveness flares up or he asks you, with his hand held tightly in yours, who made you cry. Then, he’s a force to be reckoned with, devoid of warmth and sharp-edged.

“Caleb, can I… ask you something?”

Caleb glances up immediately. Noting the sobriety of your expression and the lack of playfulness in your tone, he gives a quick nod. He lowers the half-constructed model- the one his hands absolutely dwarf- as if it’s no longer important.

“Of course,” he says. He gives his head a little reassuring tilt. “If there’s anything you’re curious about, you can tell me.”

You let out a small sigh. “Will you visit again? Visit more, I mean?”

He blinks and appears contemplative for a few seconds. Yet, you get the strange feeling that it’s less him trying to formulate an answer and more like he’s trying to figure out just what prompted your asking in the first place.

“Sure, whenever I get time,” he answers with a simple shrug. “You know I wish I could be here all the time, sis… For you and Gran,” but mostly you, he doesn’t clarify, “but the Academy is no joke. I need to work hard if I want to get in.”

His endless scores of A’s and A-pluses reflect his convictions. It’s really only one subject he can’t find it in him to master: Those damned, annoying mental wellness checks. (He thinks that all those less than reputable scores— they don’t reflect him, they reflect you.)

He smiles. “Then, I’ll be able to really support us.”

“Yeah…” You sigh softly after a beat. “But, like… what if you stop visiting? You’ll find a girlfriend and then never come to see me and Gran again,” you mask your very real concerns with a weak laugh.

Caleb’s brow gives a little twitch.

His expression falls, then, like swirling grey clouds that nudge aside white fluffy ones. Something in your chest seizing, you understand it’s disgust that rewrites his pleasant visage.

You just… don’t know why.

“Why would I get a girlfriend?”

You stare on with confusion. For a moment, you feel stunned because you’ve never seen him make that face before.

It takes an extra second or two to lasso in your rationale and laugh. “Well, you’re like twenty-something now. Isn’t that just what happens? You’ll find a girlfriend and I guess I’ll find a boyfriend. I mean, I bet Gran will be happy too if one of us brings home some babies—“

A derisive scoff cuts you off. “Babies?” He throws back, peering up at you through long lashes. He takes on the perfect Kubrick stare.

The scathing sound of his voice and the shadowy look in his eyes is more than enough to zip your lips. “Don’t you think we’re a little too young for that? Besides, we don’t have to do anything right now… If we want to stay single, that’s perfectly fine.”

A few moments of uninterrupted silence pass and leave you with no choice but to reflect on your actions. You inwardly ask yourself if you did something wrong. It certainly feels that way.

You give your throat an inaudible clear. “I was just teasing, Caleb, geez,” you brush off his intense stare by looking down.

The aircraft model looks big and unbreakable in your grasp, a far cry from how it appears when held in his. You distract yourself from the startled beating of your heart by rotating it in your hand.

“Y-You can dish it out, but you can’t take it?”

You don’t meet his eye when saying that, not when he’s regarding you like you’re little more than prey or tomorrow’s dinner. No, you don’t dare to.

Gege is reliable by nature. But you suppose he can exhibit his fair amount of ‘intimidating’ when need be.

You feel an unseen weight lift off your shoulders (when they became cowed, you don’t know) when Caleb heaves a sigh.

He’s apologetic, “Sorry, sis. You’re right. Talking about it just… freaks me out a little. I mean, I barely have the time to even think about it, let alone prepare.” He pauses for a moment, as if waiting for your input.

When you look back up at him, it’s as if nothing ever happened. As if he never changed.

His eyes beam like indigo gems, sunny and unaffected. He leans forward to pat your head and it takes a strangely high amount of effort to not flinch under the weight of his palm.

If he notices, his mild expression doesn’t betray any signs.

“Why, what’s up?” He quirks a playful brow. “You’re not… Seeing someone, are you?” Caleb questions with a light laugh, hands moving to fold over the plastic plane in his hands, though his gaze remains level on you. Glued there like he physically cannot take it off until you provide him with an answer.

“Did my pipsqueak fall in love with some boy while I was gone?”

A harsh gust of wind escapes you at that. A laugh, you realize, or what’s supposed to be a laugh. You resume inserting pieces into place, adamant on building the miniature aircraft.

Your cheeks feel toasty. He’s managed to make you feel startled, ashamed, and bashful all within the span of a minute or two. It’s as impressive as it is whiplash-inducing.

Your gege is watching you very carefully as you lower your chin and purse your lips. “No…” you say sheepishly. “If I did, I’d be spending the summer with him instead of you,” you tease.

That proclamation rings loud in Caleb’s ears like a gunshot bang.

She’ll spread her wings, and fly away.

He should be joyous that there is still an absence of that ‘special someone’ in your life, that he indeed is the one spending the prelude to summer with you.

But all he feels is a lump of dread forming in his belly.

It fattens and makes it hard to breathe. She’ll spread her wings and fly away. Leave you in her dust and all the memories. All the love.

”Yeah? Well, consider me lucky then.”

Something in his chest plummets. Too rapid to catch it. Too monstrous to hope to.

He lets it sink. Feels himself going with it. It’s getting so hard to hold out, Meimei. But don’t look at him with those eyes of wide startle. It’s still the Caleb you loved from your childhood, your beloved Gege.

Just with a whole lotta love that you couldn’t even begin to fucking fathom.

…Six days. Six days left.

He’s been granted a final, measly six days to change your mind and convince you that he’s still got a place in your life, in your heart. That it’s reserved only for him.

An uncanny smile warps Caleb’s lips.

“I’ll always visit,” he assures. “And don’t worry, sis… Once I get a girlfriend, you’ll definitely be the first one to know, okay?” He chuckles, a pleasant sound.

A pretty smile smooths out the remnant lines of uncertainty in your face. “Okay. And… I can visit you in Skyhaven, too?”

Delirious excitement blips across purple eyes, his grin too bright.

“Sure,” he cheerfully agrees. “Even better.”

✷✷✷

White dots his vision like a light leak seconds before you barge in.

That tight knot, the one that had been wrapping his stomach in threads of want and frustration and need, begins to unfurl at full pelt, and Caleb quivers as it happens.

Those academy girls could never quite compete with his pumping fist or the swirling thoughts in his head he gets himself off to. But he supposes they served their purposes where they could— in those moments of foolish thinking where he thought they could heal him and needed to at least make an attempt. To clear his conscious, if nothing else.

(Spoiler alert, a humored voice in his head says dryly. They didn’t. And of course they didn’t. They were never his precious little Meimei. That’s no one’s fault but his own for believing he could get ‘better.’

No. ‘Better’ is you. It always has been.)

He’s learned from all that, though. Played all those games- and people- ‘til they tuckered him out.

Relief bowls through him. That’s just what he needs, isn’t it? A little help. He’s never considered these short-lived sessions of fucking his fist a way to summon pleasure, no- although that is very much present when he does- but rather as a kind of damage control.

He’s too pent up and needy. He needs to take the edge off, somehow, lest some of that frustration teems over when he’s talking to you and he messes up. Messes up in a way he can’t fix.

After all, he’s entitled to his own self-soothing mechanisms, isn’t he?

Or… what, is he just meant to deny himself of that, too?

Caleb bites down on a deep moan and shakes.

Pleasure courses through his veins and builds to a high peak, certainly not one he can hope to climb down from in the short time it takes you to run down the hall and into his bedroom.

“Caleb, guess what—“

And, you know, it’s already embarrassing as is, being interrupted in a personal moment and caught in such a compromising position, but what makes it worser is when it’s your own little sister who walks in to find you with your cock in your hand.

What makes it… mortifying?

When she hears you saying her name during it.

When she gasps, her eyes losing their initial glitter as they flit down, his cock gives a shameless throb and Caleb can’t decipher if the lurch in his belly is from disgust or newfound arousal.

Either way, he realizes his nakedness and scrambles to fold the sheets over it.

(Bit too late for that though, huh?)

With labored breaths, he makes a sound akin to a whimper, voice thin and pained, and lets his jaw hang dumbly.

You seem to cotton on to reality once more, because you finally take a step back- a shaky, belated one- and begin to retreat into the sunlit hallway.

Evening casts a cherry-orange glow on the white walls that flickers when you backstep into one of the beams filtering from the window. It makes you look fiery and almost hellish. But he’s a sinner. A sinner by nature and so you’re inviting.

(And he came to terms with his sin nature long ago. Sometimes it just feels like he’s waiting on you.)

His love— so deep and fervent, spread in the pit of his being like apple seeds, tearing him apart from the core— brings endless guilt, maybe, but not regret. No, nothing is regrettable about you. And he’s sorry, he’s so fucking sorry, Meimei, that he’s a monstrous liar and he desperately wishes it wasn’t like this, that you could see him separate from a brother, but—

He can’t stop. He can’t stop.

And there’s a certain instant… where he’s had to pause and really look at himself and ask if he truly wants to.

What he feels for you is suffocating. Like an eldritch river beast snatching his ankle and dragging him down hopeless, louring depths. But he pictures your face in perfect peace and wears your locket close to his heart. He loves you endlessly. Would do it all for you.

Just… Maybe pretending he doesn’t feel what he feels for you isn’t apart of that equation.

He senses your departure with a stab of inexplicable panic. “Meimei,” he quickly stammers, reaching out with his free hand.

His other hand, the one with wet, dripping knuckles, sticky with his own seed, darts to hide behind him, placing a proverbial cloth over his sin.

He has half the brain that already wants to mitigate this situation as it plays out in front of him in real-time, and he’s all but praying a ‘clean-up’ of sorts is viable here...

The scale doesn’t quite seem to be tipping in his favor though and honest to God, he’s not surprised. He deserves it if anything, for being such a selfish, awful big brother. Oh, doesn’t he know.

You look horrified, and you are. It feels as if you’ve been splashed with cold water. Your chest warms like a hearth and tightens, but your limbs frost over. Icy-hot shock keeps you moored in the threshold of his bedroom door with wide, fluttering eyes.

“Wait, don’t go, i-it’s not—“

A feeble lie. Wholly unconvincing.

You’re naive to a fault, that’s been true since you were kids, and too kindhearted for your own good, but this is not a matter wherein you can feign ignorance... It’s not one where you’re running into his arms, either.

No, you look… afraid as you back away from him. Like his arms come dead last on the list of places you want to be.

Paired with the mute horror is abashment. A vivid pink glazes your cheekbones and Caleb, guiltily, thinks you look very pretty (albeit, he can’t remember there ever being a time where he didn’t think that).

You recollect just enough of your composure to pick up your jelly legs and maneuver them out.

The door clicks shut and the sound is too soft to warrant the tempest gusting through his chest. His heart thrums at racehorse speeds.

He said your name, Meimei (or more accurately, moaned it), and you heard it. He came, and you saw that, too- fountaining over the backs of his fingers like white water rapids. You… saw it all. Saw him.

A niggling feeling stirs inside him. Filthy and blinding but brief. It passes like a car in the night, there and then gone.

A voice purrs to life in the back of his head, one of greed and frustration. One of miserable longing. He listens to it for a moment, and it brings him catharsis.

The loneliness constantly enveloping him like fog at a mountain’s foot seems to thin out, but just a little... It allows some wiggle room for a warped sense of accomplishment to settle.

Because you saw him.

(And isn’t that all he ever wanted?)

Slowly, Caleb licks his dry lips and hazily notes the twitch of his cock against his wet abdomen. It’s flushed an angry red as it crawls back to life, but Caleb tucks it under the waistband of his boxers and contemplates his next move.

You’ll be in disarray, in shock, in a boiling pot of disgust and the likely, self-sabotaging questions of, is this somehow my fault? Maybe he’ll even capitalize off them— screwed-up, pathetic gege he is.

But you saw him and there’s just no denying it and now there’s no hiding place for him either. Not anymore.

This truth… you can both navigate it together.

There’s a pulsating mix of terror, guilt, and scorching excitement that takes the breath from his lungs as he lies back down. Relief moves in a thin undercurrent in his blood, reassuring him that it’ll be okay. Somehow, it will.

Little devils perch on either of Caleb’s shoulders. He feels a very odd sense of calm wash over him. You saw it. So…

Do you accept it?

He thinks you might just have to. For your gege’s sake, if nothing else. Because Meimei, this has been killing him for far too long.

Relieve him, why don’t you?

✷✷✷

His vacation of sorts is coming to a close.

Caleb blinks, and a few days scurry underfoot like mice— too quick to stop or comprehend. He steps on the tail ends of them, but they escape anyway.

You’ve been avoiding him.

Stowing yourself away in your bedroom and locking the door just in case he tries to come in; you don’t exactly expect him to come barging in like you did, especially not after what you’d seen, but you’d rather be safe than sorry.

You’re not afraid of your gege, you’re not. You never have been. But these past few days have felt nothing short of hellish.

You tell Gran you’re not feeling well when she asks why you’ve been skipping family dinners. She leaves a water bottle by the door with a tiny orange pill on top and believes you.

Sure, you told your tall tale or two growing up, and Caleb always had your back when you needed to cover up a small wrongdoing, but this is… different. To pretend that nothing is happening right now- or that it’s all fine- would be more than just a white lie.

Something is wrong with your Gege. Terribly.

You… don’t know what to do.

You love him. And you hate him, hate him in a way you never could when he used to steal your snacks as a child or conveniently forget to unlock the attic hatch.

These battling feelings only serve to complicate the situation further; your stomach is a war-ground of guilt, sorrow, and a disgust that viciously razes your wellbeing to the dirt.

How could you do this, Caleb? You think to yourself, curled up on your side, nuzzling into a heap of pillows. You’re under the illusion that this was an overnight thing. That he up and decided just a couple days ago to do the unthinkable- the reprehensible- and vocalize your name in the act. You don’t why he did it. What he was thinking. But whatever the reason could be, perhaps you don’t want to know.

Your own Gege….

Anger beats in your chest. Fear, too- making your belly toss with sickness. Now the future is more blurry than ever, and the one person you always leaned on for counsel has all but spat in your face. That’s what it feels like, at least. Like betrayal.

Hours drag by and you fall victim to endless swarms of butterflies, but not the good kind. The anxious kind. They fly in droves and absolutely piece you apart.

Guilt lances at your heart as you curse him in your head, and you hate that despite it all, you still feel the undercurrents of love for him.

For the entirety of your childhood, he was your shield. Your best friend, your protector, and the one person in the whole entire world you could always count on- perhaps more than Gran- to be there for you. Your teasing but well-meaning older brother. Now, you realize just how strong that sentiment is, because it stubbornly remains. Even now as you clench your teeth and hold back tears.

It’s buried under layers of hurt, though. A feeling of betrayal that pierces bone-deep and spreads all over.

He’s sick. Depraved. A voice in a dark cranny of your brain whispers, bitter and scared. But these new, scathing adjectives you assign your gege are just as surprising as they are uncertain, because no matter how many times you mentally call him a sick monster, your heart sings a weak song against it.

No. No, he’s not a monster. He’s your Gege.

Maybe you can fix this, somehow.

Maybe… Maybe it was a misunderstanding after all! Some rotten delusion you experienced fueled by the summer heat and the humid haze of late June. Even if it wasn’t- maybe you’d just be content to pretend it was. You’ll seal your little pinky with his and he’ll make a vow to never bring it up again; you’ll accept a lie, even, if he says it never happened to begin with.

You’ll do it. You’ll pretend. The two of you will go back to normal and he’ll leave for Skyhaven and you’ll eventually send in your final admission to the Hunter’s Association. You’ll be accepted in and you’ll forget him. Forget him until he pays his one or two occasional visits during the holidays. By that time, though, you’ll already have gotten your new place and it’ll serve as an excuse to never have to fucking see him again—

You don’t want to see him again.

A little sob escapes you.

You feel sick to your stomach. Nausea churns in your gut like milkfat in a butterbell. You shut your eyes desperately to bat away a flurry of intrusive, bitter thoughts, but it hardly works.

How could he do this to the both of you—?

Could you confide in Gran about this? If you told her, would she find help for Caleb or spank him like old times-? or would she start looking at you with cold, repulsed eyes as if it was your fault?

Is… Is it your fault?

A sequence of knocks sounds at the door.

For how gentle they are, you really shouldn’t flinch so hard.

Your breath hitches. Your fingers curl around your blankets and tighten.

“Y/n,” the voice on the other side of the door is honeyed and low. You note the sadness in it and immediately wish you didn’t as a throbbing sweeps through your chest. “It’s…. It’s me. It’s Caleb,” he sighs out. “W-Will you… let me in?”

Your response is quick. “No,” you say dully, feigning meanness. “I don’t feel well.”

“What’s hurting?” He seamlessly chirps in a light voice, concerned. You’re just thankful he hasn’t tried for the knob yet, despite knowing you’d locked it anyway. “You still have your meds out here… I guess Gran left them for you, huh? Do you want me to bring them to you—“

“Just- go away, Caleb,” you manage to say his name, but it’s in a gritted, forced breath. Something in your heart does a 180 degree twist as the title leaves your mouth. A salty tear rolls in and wets your tongue.

You take a shaky breath in and try to mask your sorrow. That’s near impossible.

“L-Leave me alone.”

A pause.

For a second, you’re almost dumb enough to believe he’s turned around and left.

A palm, large and worried, presses to your bedroom door. “Are you crying? Meimei- let me in, please,” comes his fretting voice. “I need to see you.”

Meimei. The title, once wrapped with affection and warmth, sends a cold chill down your spine. You ought to open that door just to give him a black eye and a wake-up slap to reality. He needs that— and desperately.

A wave of anger, frothy and hot, rides over that feeling of disgust- but just for a moment.

You sit up in bed and sneer at the locked door, “I need you to leave. Go, Caleb! I don’t wanna see you anymore, don’t you get it?!”

It’s a strange thing, how you’re currently blind to his expression but you can clearly imagine it regardless: anguish bunching his brow as his whole face falls. You’ve seen that face before, and now you’re seeing it in your head. It’s paired with a very real, pained sound he makes.

You hate the guilt that hits you, barreling through you at the sound of his strained voice. Growing up, there was always a reason why he called you a cry baby, why Gran told you to guard your heart. Because it’s fucking weak. Prone to your gege.

He leans his full weight against the door. Fists planted there as he hangs his head.

“Don’t say that!” he forces out. “You don’t mean it. Let me come in. I’ll explain to you what happened— a-anything you wanna know. Just…” He pauses for a moment, exasperated.

“I only have three days left to see you. Don’t leave me like this.”

Three days…

You force your eyelids shut. Your nostrils flare.

“Please,” he says, and drives the final nail in the coffin home. Your, coffin.

You’re about to get up from your bed, plastering on a cool face as you prepare to untwist your limbs from your blankets. You drag one leg up from your sheets before a mental image- one you never want to acknowledge as real- stops you in place.

(Meimei, he moans. Meimei meimei meimei, nmmph—)

You stoop your head and cry harder.

“Dammit, sis,” his voice warbles opposite the door. “Let me in, you’re not okay- don’t cry, don’t cry,” he hushes, but you cut off his tender, admittedly effective tries at consolation with a sharp shout.

“Tell me,” you grit. “Tell me you didn’t mean it! That all of it was just some- some- I don’t know! Just tell me it won’t happen again,” you whimper, “That it never did.”

“Please, Gege.”

His reply comes quick. After a loud, shuddering breath that rattles the last of your wellbeing and oozes confidence.

“No,” he says lowly, assured. “It did. It did happen, sis. It’s been happening. You just… didn’t know.”

Revulsion lands a punch to your gut. Direct and vomit-inducing.

“N-No—“

“I’m sorry,” he interjects sadly. A very deep convinction bleeds into his words a second later, though, strengthening them. “I never meant to hurt you. But I don’t regret the way I feel. I love you, Y/n. I love you more than you could ever know. So… let me in. C’mon- Let your Gege see you just one more time, or will you send me back to Skyhaven without so much as a goodbye?”

Furious, you shout for as loud as your frightened throat will allow.

“NO! Leave, Caleb! I don’t wanna see—“

The door makes a sound. It echoes around the four walls of your cozy bedroom and you watch in mute horror as the knob, with the tiny slat lock and all, begins to turn.

Without using his hands, Caleb pushes the door open with his Evol.

He takes a proper moment before stepping in- almost as if preparing himself- something flashing across his face before withering away. You think it takes some piece of him with it.

But when he does take that first stride in, you get the cold, unshakable feeling that he is no longer your Gege, not anymore.

Some monster in him has been fully realized: it’s sloughed its skin- the sweet, doting face of your older brother- like a snake and embraced its scales. It can only crawl on its belly and it only crawls towards you.

(And now, all there’s left to do is place that apple in your hand—)

“It’s gonna be okay, sis. I’m right here. Gran doesn’t have to know. And if she finds out- it doesn’t matter. I’ll take you someplace else. Fly you far away, if I had to—“

“C-Caleb, stop,” as he nears your bedside, you demand your legs to move but they won’t- anchored in place like bags of sand. Tears path down your cheeks and put a chink in his armor; his brooding face faltering.

You know, just between the two of you, growing up, he was always a bit soft, too.

“It’ll be just the two of us and no one’ll lay a hand on you, I pinky promise. I’ll be a pilot within a month and get you anything you could ever dream of,” his quivering lips curl into a smile- a genuine, manic one- as he takes your smaller hand in his own and kisses the back of it.

You try to tug it away to no avail. You suppose he was right, a handful of days ago, saying his muscles weren’t just for decoration. If he wants to overpower you, he can, and that’s a terrifying thought you don’t want to believe in but it’s looking like you might have to grow out of this blind trust you always held for him. It’s looking like there’s no better time to start that than now.

Your lungs heave, “Caleb, what are you—?”

“Remember, when we were younger? you’d called me selfish once or twice,” he chuckles, a light sound. “And you were right, Meimei. I am selfish. But you should take a page from my book sometime, too. I’ll let you, ya know. Just say the word, and—“

Panic taking control of you, you regain feeling in your bones and launch a foot at him.

It’s seized, instantly. Suspended in midair— floating unnaturally without so much as a touch or grab. He’s holding it up, keeping you pinned beneath him, with his gravity manipulation skill and you realize with another sob that you cannot escape your Gege, not in heart and not in body, not ever.

His eyes trail to yours after a thick moment, indigo irises dancing with darkness, impatience, and the smallest beat of hurt. As if this pains him more than you.

What an asshole. A lying, selfish— manipulative asshole.

The sweet, kindhearted boy Gran raised to be your brother—

“Are you… tryin’ to hit me?” he laughs, lifting a deceptively flippant brow. “Hm, that’s alright. I can tell what you’re thinking, Meimei, that you don’t recognize me at all right now, right..?”

His fingers, long and slim, do close around your floating leg, then. They draw your calf to his face and he peppers a chaste kiss to it. It lingers and makes you feel sick— butterflies erupting in your stomach at the way he looks up at you, lashes framing a reverent look that borders on delusional.

Mortification settles when you realize they’re not just the anxious kind, those butterflies: Your body seems to be just as traitorous as the brunette hunched over you.

“But it’s me, Caleb. Your own gege,” you wonder if it’s a scoff, the little breath he looses, or something else, but he appears almost disappointed with himself for a fraction of a second—

Gone.

“So let me take care of you. If you don’t let me now… you’ll just be delaying the inevitable. Might as well just… rip the bandaid off, right? It’ll be okay, just have a little faith in me. I- I can’t keep pretending anymore. But it doesn’t have to end with you crying,” he reasons with furrowed brows, hands descending to pin yours to the bed and entwine your fingers with his. He hovers over you and nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck, sighing with deep content. It’s a mockery of a lovers’ embrace.

But to Caleb, it’s the real thing.

“I want us to be happy. Just let go, Meimei. Let go and let me take care of you. I… always have, haven’t I?” He murmurs, lips planting a kiss- the first of many- to the thumping column of your throat.

(—All there’s left to do is place that apple in your hand, and watch you take the bite.)

#love and deepspace #lads caleb #love and deepspace smut #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace caleb #caleb x mc #caleb x reader #caleb love and deepspace smut #caleb x you #l&ds #lads smut #l&ds caleb #lads x reader #dark content #your honor i love him #but your honor he has a mullet #‧₊ 🍰.┊𝒄𝒂𝒌𝒆𝑓𝑖𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛

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catsukiiee · 9 months ago

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# POSITIONS & R&B.

౨ৎ class 1-a & class 1-b boys x masc/fem!reader

[fan favorites only]

wordcount ; 893

paragraphs ; 41

sentences ; 53

songs used ; songs listed by each character.

all of them are their canon ages (24+)

# CLASS 1-A

# TENYA IIDA [ blame by bryson tiller ]

Tenya doesn’t care what position you two start off in, as long as he’s able to get inside you and hear your moans, then he’s sated. Unfortunately, though, our glorious king, Tenya Iida, cannot last long in any position where he can't see your face. That man NEEDS to see your face; he’s absolutely addicted to seeing your every reaction, especially when he goes deep, sound is not enough. He loves having you in the eagle position, don't even try hiding your face in the pillows.

“I wanna see your face, please.”

# DENKI KAMINARI. [ let em' know by bryson tiller ]

Desperate. That’s the only word I have for this motherfucker. Wanna have sex? He’s down. In doggystyle? Even better. Trust he’s losing his mind as soon as he sees you bend over; expect to have your hair pulled and your shoulders marked with bite marks at the end.

“Look at my little masterpieces.”

# EIJIRO KIRISHIMA [ gang over luv by brent faiyaz ]

As gentlemanly as he is, he’s far from a gentleman in the bedroom; in fact, his favorite position is low doggy. Simply because he can push your face into the mattress and go ham. You want to try and crawl away? Nah baby, he’s grabbing BOTH your arms and locking your ass down; you aren’t running until you’re both finished and he’s tired.

“Why are you moving? Cmere baby.”

# RIKIDO SATO [ ballin by partynextdoor ]

Lethal. He’s strong as fuck, so you better expect to have your pussy absolutely obliterated after a couple of deep strokes, but just like Iida, he needs to see your face to cum, and he's not pulling out either. His favorite position to put you in is young stallion.

That's exactly why y'all have five kids.

“A few more won’t hurt, baby.”

# HANTA SERO [ things & such b partynextdoor ]

THIS MOTHERFUCKER RIGHT HERE IS CRAZY.

The moment you mention wanting to have sex, you don’t even need to move to the bedroom, he loves fucking your brains out on the couch anyway, locking one of your legs over his shoulder while his hands hold your other leg down to keep your legs open so he can watch himself going in and out, your hands WILL BE TIED. Sero is obsessed with watching your breasts bounce to, it drives him insane and makes him finish in a matter of minutes, and he’s not stopping even after cumming first.

The messier the better.

“Look at you sucking me in, goddamn.”

# SHOTO TODOROKI [ jaded by drake ]

Probably the calmest man you know outside the bedroom, but when you’re both in the mood? Your back will be hurting. He loves seeing your back arched; if he goes too deep and you ruin the arch, he’s pushing you right back down immediately.

“What did I say? Lower it back down.”

# IZUKU MIDORIYA [ can i by drake ]

A whole power bottom, he loves having you on top of him, guiding your hips while you ride him. When he's feeling a little adventurous, he likes to grab your throat, forcing your eyes to stay on his as he starts to fuck up into you. HE'S A WHINER. The closer he gets, the whinier he gets.

“Can I cum in you? Please let me cum in you. I wanna cum in you so bad, please. Fuck, I'm cumming."

# KATSUKI BAKUGOU [ altitude by monetell fish ]

As soon as the “Wanna have sex” comes out of your mouth, it’s over for you; it doesn’t matter if y’all are in the living room, bathroom, kitchen, or out in PUBLIC. Trust, he’s going to find a way to have your ass folded and panting. He likes folding you into a pretzel just as much as he likes having you on your hands and knees.

Wanna try and move his hands? They’re locked behind your back. Start squirming and crawling away? He’s got a solution for that ass.

“Stop fucking squirming and take it.”

# HITOSHI SHINSO [ first fuck by 6lack ft jhene aiko ]

Gentle touches and hard deep strokes.

He’s far more focused on having his hands explore your body while doing it, might accidentally brainwash you when he asks, “Is this okay?” or “Want me to go harder? I can’t understand you baby.”

He loves positions where he can see your face as well.

# CLASS 1-B

# NEITO MONOMA [ sweat by zayn ]

This bitch cannot accept defeat; all that shit talking about lasting longer only to cum inside you after a couple of pumps, seeing your back glistening and your ass rippling each time his hips snapped against you was enough to send him over after five minutes. Don't worry though, he keeps going until you're finished, and then keeps going... and going just to get the 'last word' in his own way.

“What was that? All I hear are mumbles, tsk tsk, what a shame.”

# TETSUTETSU TETSUTETSU [ feel it by jacquees ]

Oh baby, he LOVES folding your ass as much as he loves your reactions to him going balls deep each time. Pulling your hair, shoving his fingers into your mouth when you got too loud, and pushing your back down into a deeper arch just to hit it deeper when he has you on your hands and knees.

'Overstimulation is key' is his mindset when he's fucking you.

“Yeah baby, keep cumming.”

i think y'all can tell who i listen to a lot and which characters are my favorite by writing this 💀..

I'M SORRY IF THE SONGS DON'T FIT THE CHARACTERS </3 THIS WAS ORIGINALLY GOING TO JUST BE ABOUT SERO BUT THEN I HAD AN IDEA

TEACHERS ARE NEXT!

#tenya iida smut #hanta sero smut #katsuki bakugo smut #denki kaminari smut #neito monoma smut #tetsutetsu tetsutetsu smut #ejirou kirishima smut #rikido sato smut #shoto todoroki smut #izuku midoriya smut #shinsou hitoshi smut #my hero academia smut #x reader smut

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jayktoralldaylong · 6 months ago

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One of my favourite things about Arcane is that all the couples can be read as toxic, which is GREAT.

I'm tired of people bringing morality debates into dark media. Let dark media be fucking dark. You guys wouldn't survive a day in the TMA fandom, needing everyone to be as good as gold. How are they going to make for enjoyable complex characters if they're not morally grey. In fact, I wish there'd been more expansion on just how morally black they can become!

"CaitVi is so toxic" According to lesbian statistics, that sounds just about accurate. 💀 Heck, I wish Caitlyn had done more (Not really, but it would have been nice to further explore the darkness in her heart). Isn't it adorable how she immediately folded as soon as Vi called her cupcake? Caitlyn's like one of those villains that will consistently do the most....until it comes to someone else hurting her girlfriend. The only one allowed to hurt her girlfriend is her. 💀

Then let's talk about Vi. Someone pointed out how Vi never cared about Zaun's independence in the first place and many people yelled that they were wrong. But actually, they were right. Vi never wanted Zaun. Zaun was Silco's dream, and Jinx inherited that dream cause Silco would never shut up about it. Vi wanted Piltover to take responsibility for all the shit they allowed to happen in the Undercity. That's a part of the reason she joined up with Caitlyn in the first place. Let's not forget she wasn't dissuaded when she dragged Jayce down to fight with her and he killed a child. Children been dying, it's been her whole life. Someone needed to do something about it, and Zaun would have just isolated the people from all the privileges that Piltover SHOULD have been providing for them. Some people just can't accept that Independence cannot in fact solve every problem, and sometimes independence is colonisers running away from the responsibility of fixing the mess that they started in the first place.

Besides, we all know Vi joined up with the Enforcers because "I feel like I am worthless if I can't be of service." She'd already run out of family members to serve, Caitlyn was the next best thing. She's just like Jayce.

And speaking of Jayce, let's talk about his violent levels of codependency with anyone who'll give him attention. People LOOOOVE to talk about Mel, but it's there with Viktor too. When bro wasn't basing his worth on his inventions, he was centering it around Viktor.

Viktor who decided at some point in his life that he would not LIVE without Jayce. He was fine dying without him, but living without him was unacceptable. Oh how healthy. 🙄😂 Viktor be the kind of toxic ex to threaten divorce 500 times over, then burn the world when you actually leave him. Jayce is no better cause he's the kind of guy to keep going back to his toxic Ex.

Yes, Mel is manipulative. That's what I love about her. How are you guys failing to give this woman the praise of being an outsider in Piltover, but running their entire council. 💀 Girl raises her hand once and the whole government starts spinning. She was the best sugar mummy Jayce and Viktor could ever ask for. She kept the whole city running. Literally the entire of Piltover dancing on her palm. And yes she manipulated Jayce but let's not forget she thought that was a love language. 💀 You wanna be mad at someone, be mad at Ambessa for raising her that way.

I also don't think it's fair to blame her for the Undercity situation, she's not native. Monkey see, monkey do, and not a single one of those Council members actually cared about the situation down there, it was deplorable. 💀 Jayce did way more in his two weeks as Councillor than any of those drug pushing, money laundering, Piltovian heads of government.

And that just covers MelJayVik, we don't even need to get fully into TimeBomb, cause we know what's wrong there. 💀 Surely we have not forgotten the many teammates Jinx has killed, but making sure to never kill Ekko cause that's her man. Ekko has a lot to unpack, like how his consistent and unwavering love for Jinx is an indication of a lot of doors he might not be ready to open. I know they dynamics go crazy and I love to see it.

Ambessa and Sevika are a crack ship but I'm sure we all know bedroom dynamics go crazy with Mrs. Warlord and Miss Liberation. I love it when characters clash in a toxic heap. It's insane and should be explored.

Quit saintifying my toxic ships with your woke morality debates. If you want everyone to be sunshine and rainbows then you should be watching literally anything else. 💀 "It's not healthy." GOOD, I like it that way. 💀 Angst, spice and trauma are the recipe for a plethora of explorative fanfiction. Any of their dynamics can be taken in any toxic direction and I want that EXPLORED.

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valentine-cafe · 4 months ago

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˖⁺. ﹙ sorcerer boyfriend x fem reader. ﹚ .𖹭 ݁

. . .so wet, and only from a few vines ?? 🍒 : sorcerer ˖ corrupt god character﹙ verse 164 alessio. ﹚

your sorcerer god husband is a man of many things, controlling his forest to give you some pleasure is one of them, cw: mature content, vines, pussy being fucked by vines, rough fucking, gagging,

The emerald woods is host to many abnormalities. Big and small. From bizarre to eerie. As a lover of the deity who ruled these vast planes, you found most comfort in the weird and wonderful.

Even with slick, slimy vines scouring every inch of your skin. Slithered deep within your cunt to wreck you the same way in which Alessio would. Well - granted the vines could not compare to his patterns of veins, bumps and ridges. Instead they are smooth. Silky. Even as they pound your poor, trembling hole silly.

Safe to say it's the last thing you expected on your midnight trek. You were in search of your beloved; instead you found yourself caught in the snare of these over-excited vines.

Not that you're complaining.

Not when two, thick extensions strain your thighs apart. Numerous strings of nature hold you up, bent over and helpless to their relentless urges. A few curl around other parts of your body. Your breasts, your waist, round your throat. With two thinner ones tweaking along your sensitive nipples. Another occupied with your clit. Overstimulating you in every possible way.

You feel the thrum of his magic with every deep dive of the thick vine in your squelching pussy. With blurred vision you flutter your eyes and drool into the fleshy vine hooked over your lips like a gag. How generous of it to let you bite down and hide your whorish sounds. As if that helped at all with how loud you were.

Excitement shivers through these vines. You've been here long enough to know what that means. You know what they're building up to and your pink walls clench, gush at the thought.

They'll fill you up again with that sticky, consuming slick. The kind that made you throb and beg for more. Were they even conscious? Or are they merely an extension of your dearly beloved?

"Oh, my darling slut."

You have your answer. Chills run up your spine, and despite the previous desperation of the vines, they part with a sticky string connected to your cunt. Your hole gapes, spewing a mixture of translucent and shimmery essence.

You don't need to see him to know that Alessio has found himself behind you. Dark claws trace your quivering thighs. You can practically feel his smirk against your shoulders as the cold pads of his fingers trace your weak slit.

"So needy for me that you allow anything in this precious hole? What a needy slut indeed."

The vines cannot compare to his swollen tip circling your entrance. You bite into the vine at your mouth and try to glance over your shoulder. Beg him that way. As if he needed to see your teary eyes and fucked-out face to plunge deep and fill you more than anything ever could.

Claws brace on your hips. His low grunts have you whining. He wastes no time in snapping his hips into your ass. After all, you're already all stretched out for him . . .

The slaps of his balls into your trembling cunt leave you breathless. He aims for to bully your cervix with his battering tip and ruthless thrusts. All while the vines at your nipples and clit swirl faster. Eager to keep up with their master.

"All fucked out in my woods - hah - like a helpless little nymph." Teeth drag down your neck. You squeeze and cum around him in harsh shudders. He sucks in a breath, chuckles and tightens his grip.

"Think I will keep you like this until dawn." He groans, angling his hips to hammer further. Your eyes have long since crossed at the centre. Not a word he says processes in your blurred mind.

All that matters is that he's inside of you. On you. All over you. As he soaks your cum into the leafy floor and sings your moans through the thick trees.

#﹙ cupcake rush. ﹚: alessio 164 𖹭 ݁#monster boyfriend #teratophillia #monster fucker #terato #smut #monster x reader #x reader #reader insert #sorcerer x reader #corrupt god x reader #oc x reader #monster oc #original character x reader #alessio 164 #fem reader #monster smut #asterism

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rottingworship · 25 days ago

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Bloodlust

[The Proxies x Reader]

Summary: You, a newly turned vampire, find yourself with a new group of friends. One night, things get dicey, leaving you running. When you are found, you come to the conclusion you are very frustrated. Your new friends are more than willing to help you out.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI! Depictions of murder, blood drinking, biting, praise, vaginal sex, cream pies, oral (male receiving), vaginal fingering, voyeurism, not so healthy relationship dynamics, not beta read (let me know if I missed any!)

Word Count: 7.1k

A/N: They/Them pronouns used for reader, but reader has a vagina. I have a second part of this planned. It will be more rough and definitely not as sweet as this one. I have a lot in mind for Vampire!Reader. The vampires aren't based off any particular media, either. Just a mesh of medias, I guess! this was supposed to be posted in October, but you get it now instead... this was me getting used to writing four characters at once, the next part will be very fun!

Being a vampire is new. Being able to smell everything, hear everything, and see everything is new. Your strength is something you never could have imagined. Sunlight is annoying now, practically burning you. Your body is always cold. You don't have to breathe, but it is something you are still used to doing. And every fucking time you inhale you are greeted with new scents.

Bloodlust though?

That's something you would not wish on your worst enemy. You almost wished you were dead when you woke up from being freshly turned. Or ‘saved’. Your throat was on fire and your entire body burned. Burned for something you did not want, but something you now needed.

Your first kill was horrid. Blood covered you and the victim. You wanted to sob but being a vampire does not let you do such human things.

Now? It's been almost three months since turning, and while you have a dysfunctional but somehow working support system around you, things still suck. Sometimes you wish you had not been spared. You wonder if this is a fate worse than death. But your friends do make it bearable. They keep you fed and do not seem to be judging you when you do happen to get messy. There is only one problem.

They all smell absolutely delicious.

Tim and Brian smell slightly better than your average human. You cannot help but wonder if your brain is playing tricks on you, since you are so close to them. You think that maybe you love them so much they now smell better than most. Toby is a slightly different story. He smells better than anything you can even remember loving as a human. You want to bite him and never let go. Ever. Your brain tells you to attack anytime he enters the room. ‘Latch on and do not release’ is all you seem to hear.

You have yet to have an incident around the men. They are careful with their sharp objects, and you are careful with your sharp teeth. There has been no instance where you have smelled them actively bleeding. Not until Toby decides to get your food by himself.

“Y– You-your eyes are changing.” Toby notices before anyone else. Normally, at least now that you aren't human, your eyes are red. Blood red. When hungry they get darker, until eventually, they are black. “I'll go get-get you some fresh bl-blood.”

He leaves before you can protest. Some time passes, about two hours, and Toby has not returned. He is pretty quick with his outings. You have grown anxious.

“Tim!” You shout as you walk down the hall, “Brian! Toby left and hasn't come back!” Brian's door opens first. Then Tim pokes his head out. You pout at the both of them and wait for them to come out of their rooms.

“Well shit,” Tim starts, “I sure wish we had something better than a bloodhound to find him.”

“Yeah, that'd be fucking insane.” Brian smirks at you.

“Ok, guys, I get it. I can smell him, but-” you fidget slightly, “I don't trust myself.” The mood shifts immediately. They both sigh and step out of their rooms. They meet you in the hall and you let them take the lead. “I can hunt him down. I just need my accountability partners.” You force a smile. You are joking, but only slightly.

“Accountability to not fucking murder Toby?”

“Suck him dry,” Brian laughs, “and not in the way he wants!”

Tim snorts. You blink at them. You stop and cross your arms. “Now is not the time for jokes…”

“I'm really not joking,” Brian shrugs and keeps walking.

You ignore him. A scent like nothing you've ever smelled before hits your nose and you almost moan. You cover your mouth and freeze. Your eyes widen and you look at Tim and Brian. “He's somewhere near.” It's taking all of you to not sprint towards the scent and devour him. “Someone is with him. I can smell more blood, that isn't his.”

Tim mumbles a ‘damn’ under his breath and you begin to take the lead. Toby is obviously hurt somewhere, potentially fighting someone off for you, and you need to find him. And not kill him. As you get closer the smell is taking over everything. A trail of blood appears before you. You stop yourself from figuring out if it is Toby's or whoever else is bleeding with him.

You see it, some man sprawled out, bloody and dying on the fall leaves. You begin to approach the body, hoping that if you feed, the want, no need, to ‘suck Toby dry’ leaves you. You do not get that far. A leaf crunches beside you, and Toby appears. Your head snaps towards him and you inhale sharply, your eyes narrowing. Your fists ball up immediately. He waves at you, says hi, and all you can do is hope you don't pounce. Your eyes scan him, and you see his thigh is slashed.

“Hey,” you hear Tim call your name. Blood is steadily coming from the cut on Toby’s thigh. You see it. Your eyes, dark and full of hunger, do not move from Toby. The need to feed is becoming stronger than the want to keep Toby safe. Toby does not move. It is almost as if he knows he's become the prey. Another crunch of leaves and a hand is grabbing your face. Harshly. “Hey.” Tim sounds much sterner. “Look at me. Focus on me.” Tim’s thumb rests on one cheek while his fingers grip on the other.

“I– I can't.” You want to sob.

“Okay,” Tim nods, “focus on that body.” He points to the twitching body on the ground by your feet.

Without thinking, you drop down on your knees. You grab the body violently; hatchet marks cover them. Your teeth sink into the soft flesh of the neck, and you begin to feed. You let out a low primal growl. Tim, Toby, and Brian, all watching you. Normally, they let you feed in peace. They never had watched you before. And now, here they are, staring at you, the back of your head burning from their stares.

You pull back from the neck and begin to bite and suck down the arm, getting as much ‘food’ as possible. Blood covers you. Your hands, mouth, and throat. By the time you are done you wish to cry. But you cannot. You are stuck, sitting with a bloody, dead body. Your friends are surrounding you. And your bloodlust is still lingering.

You turn towards Toby and watch him closely. Brian seems to have a sort of makeshift tourniquet on Toby’s thigh. The scent is still so strong. Your eyes hit a bloody knife inside the dead man's hand. The one he used to cut Toby.

“Don't-” Brian seems to know what you're looking at; know what you're thinking. You don't listen. Your hand snatches up the knife and you are quick to lick the blood up. Your eyes screw shut and you almost shiver. It is heavenly. It is not enough. Your head snaps towards Toby again and with a speed faster than the others can process, you are on him. He is on the ground faster than he knows it and you are leaning over him.

“Toby–” you growl, teeth gritting together, fangs bared.

“D-do it.”

Tim and Brian are frozen, watching in horror. You are much stronger than the both of them. You are stronger than the three of them put together, there is nothing they can do.

“Go a-ahead.” Toby is smiling under his muzzle. You are straddling him, pressing against his stomach, and your hands holding his shoulders down. You let out an animalistic noise, lowering yourself closer to Toby. His heart is pounding in his chest. He is not afraid though.

Far from it, actually.

It clicks. How he feels clicks in your head, and you are almost sent into a worse frenzy. You let out a strangled groan and leap up from Toby, and tear off deeper into the woods, going the exact opposite direction of your home.

Once your head is finally on straight, and you can think without wanting to murder, you find yourself on the outskirts of the city. Your shirt and pants are slightly ripped up from running through the thickest part of the woods. You, naturally, are unscathed. You cannot bring yourself to go home yet. You cannot hurt Toby. Dried blood covers you. It’s stuck to your skin; you feel it more than ever; painfully aware of how it’s dried and caked onto you in some areas.

You need to stay out of the sight of people, you know this. You don’t think that anyone is going to react normally to you. As you walk beside the almost empty road you look up at the sky. The moon is full; the stars are shining brightly. You sigh. Out of the corner of your eye you see headlights approaching, and they pass you just as quickly as they appeared. You look back at the road ahead of you and wrap your arms around yourself.

You hear tires screeching from behind you and the car that just passed turns back around, heading right for you. You look back at the blinding headlights and realize it is Brian’s car. You scrunch your face. You turn and keep walking. The car comes up beside you, and Brian rolls the window down. He looks over at you, your name rolling off his tongue. You do not look over.

“You aren’t running,” Brian states.

“Thank you for letting me know.” You huff.

“You don’t want to run,” Brian’s words make you stop. He pulls ahead a bit before pulling over on the side of the road. He gets out of the car and approaches you. “Listen,” Brian sighs, “something is going on–”

“No shit!” You snap. If you could, you would be crying right now. Everything is so much; everything is so, so amplified. You do not want to feel the need to eat the people who saved you. But here you are. Even now, you are keeping yourself from inhaling. You know Brian isn’t bleeding, and you are not hungry anymore, but your earlier actions have startled you. “I could have killed Toby! And you wouldn’t have been able to stop me!” You grip yourself tightly, holding your ripped sweater like a lifeline.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Brian comforts you. “You didn’t kill him. Toby really liked that anyway.” He smiles at you. A goofy grin. Your eyes drop to the road, and you instinctively suck in air, and you sigh out in frustration. Brian’s scent floods you. Your eyes look up at him and narrow. “Um,” He wants to take a step back, but he does not, “are you okay?”

Your brows furrow, sadness taking over. “I don’t… I don’t know.” You shake your head. “Brian?” He hums in response, and you continue. “I haven’t told anyone, but the three of you, especially Toby… You all smell different.”

“Like, stinky?” He seems concerned.

“Uh, no.” You laugh nervously. “Opposite, actually.” You rub your arm, comforting yourself. “You and Tim smell a lot better than the normal person, and Toby? He smells absolutely heavenly. That’s why I nearly lost it earlier. He smelled way better than that person he had handpicked for me to feed from. I can smell you guys even when you aren’t bleeding. It’s a lot. But bearable. I didn’t realize how much active bleeding would amplify it.”

“You didn’t realize?” Brian asks. “It’s out, it’s going to smell better. I would assume.”

“I know!” You want to yell. “I didn’t think… I’m just– Ugh!” You throw your hands up and walk past Brian, heading back towards the unknown.

Brian groans, spins around, and grabs you. “Stop.” You do not pull away. “You aren’t running, once again, you don’t want to run. If you did, you’d be gone by now. Look,” Brian stays where he is; behind you, holding your arm. You peek over your shoulder at him. “I know you don’t want to leave-”

“I have nowhere else to go.”

“That’s not the only reason you stay.”

“I don’t know why you came out here. I just tried to fucking kill Toby. He could have died, and so could you.”

“I’m here because we obviously want you around. You’re going through something, and we are not going to just let you leave because of that.”

You deadpan, “I’m also useful to you guys, and The Operator. I know that’s why I’m kept around. I’m surprised he didn’t try to stop me when I left.” You roll your eyes.

“Come on.” Brian maneuvers around you, “I can’t lie, you are useful. But you’re also kind and funny. And really hot.” Brian shrugs. “So,” he motions towards the car, “please get in the car and come back with me.”

You blink at him, baffled. “Hot?” You almost scream. “What the fuck!?” You throw your hands up again. Brian is caught off guard. You let out a loud groan and debate on flipping his car and leaving. You look towards the car and back at Brian.

“What are you thinking…?” Brian is cautious.

“I'm just frustrated!” You do scream this time. Eyes shut tight and fists balled.

Brian takes a moment before speaking. “Sexually?” He asks, completely nonchalant.

“Maybe!” You look at him, huffing. “Maybe…” You speak a little quieter. You throw your head back and whine. “I just need to shower…”

Brian motions towards the car again. “You can do that at home.” Home. You freeze. It is your home. It has been for a few months now. You, in discomfort, make a face at Brian. He groans, “What now?”

“How do you trust me? I don’t want to hurt you…”

“You won’t.” Brian begins to walk towards the car. “Now come on.”

You are stuck. “Really, why do you think I wouldn’t hurt you?”

“Because I trust you, let’s go.” As soon as Brian says this, you shake your head. You need more answers. “I see the way you stare at us; you won’t hurt us.”

You look up at the sky, “Not intentionally-” Your nose burns. You inhale slowly and the feeling of wanting to pounce is returning. You look back at Brian and see him approaching you, a cut across his palm. He’s holding his hand up and out, his palm facing upwards. You are frozen, fighting the urge to destroy him. “Brian,” You whisper, eyes narrowing, “What are you-”

“I’m showing you something.”

“What if I kill you…?” You take a step back and he keeps on walking. He reaches you, his hand going towards you. “Brian, I’m being so fucking serious… I can’t control-”

“You aren’t starving anymore. You won’t hurt me. You can control it. You did earlier with Toby, and I don’t smell as good as him-”

“Brian…” You can’t look away from his cut. “Can I-”

“Go ahead.”

You, realizing how much stronger you are than him, make sure to gently grab his hand. You are thinking everything over a million times before you do it. The world is spinning and standing still at the same time. Brian is right, you are not starving, so you should not want to absolutely murder him. But you have not tested your self control to this level before. Your tongue runs up his palm and you feel Brian shiver. Your eyes shut and your fangs scrape his skin, ever so gently.

You let out a muffled moan as you slowly suck on the wound. Brian’s knees buckle. His hand tenses and you freeze. You do not want to pull away, your instincts are telling you to continue to drain him. But who you used to be is telling you to let him go. Your grip on him tightens as you battle with yourself. Then you hear Brian stifle a groan.

Immediately, you release him. You pull back and look at him with wild, animalistic eyes. You cock your head at him and wipe your mouth. “Sorry, are you alright?”

Brian nods, “More than alright…” He pauses briefly, “That’s not going to turn me, is it?”

You shake your head. “No, it will not. Did that hurt?” You bite the inside of your lip. “Because I've only ever killed people when feeding… And those people are most definitely not enjoying it.” You laugh.

“It, uh,” Brian is thinking, searching for the right words, “it felt good. It stung at first, but when you started to… ‘feed’, it felt amazing.”

You nod at him. “That makes sense. The man that turned me into a vampire, um, he said that” you gather your thoughts, “when one feeds from a human, there is a sort of like… Chemical, maybe? That will react with the human's blood, making them feel good. So, they don’t fight back as much. But it doesn’t turn the person. That is the actual ‘vampire venom’ that does that, but that burns. I know that from experience. The one that makes you feel good though? That wears off, eventually. Especially before death.”

“That would have been good to know before we almost killed your victims for you.” Brian smiles at you. “Can we go back now?”

“Sure, I guess.” You look at the wound again. “Let me fix that first.” You tear the hem of your already ripped sweater, getting just enough of the fabric to bandage his hand. You quickly wrap it up and pat it. “The feeling of pain will come back soon; we need to get home.”

The both of you make it to the car. You sit in the passenger seat, watching the road ahead of you, even if you are not even moving yet. Brian sits down and shifts. You inhale; you smell it again. Arousal. You know it isn’t your own. You are aroused as well though. You lick your lips and Brian’s blood is still on them, you grumble. You need more of him. You refrain. You rub your hands down your thighs; you are becoming antsy. Your brain is having a hard time wrapping around everything that is happening.

A hand is placed on yours. You look over at Brian, he gives you a reassuring smile. You bite the inside of your lip and calm down. You smile back at Brian and relax in the seat. Brian starts the car and as soon as the key is turned over his hand is on your thigh. You look over at him and wish for him to move his hand up. Further up your leg. You briefly think about moving his hand up your thigh, but before you can, Brian speaks up.

“I know that look in your eyes.” His eyes are back on the road; he doesn’t even look back over at you as he squeezes your thigh. “You’re about to do something.” He laughs. “You’re all bloody right now though. How about, after you get home and shower, we can… fix your frustrations.”

“I would like that.” You nod slowly. Getting home cannot come fast enough.

The rest of the ride is pretty quiet. The radio is turned down, so there is no noise. Brian’s hand is stuck to your thigh, squeezing it every once in a while. You have to hold back a moan. You want to latch onto Brian for a much different reason now.

He pulls up to the house and you jump out of the car. You shut the door and rush inside, scurrying to grab your things and jump into the shower. As you turn on the water, you hear Brian come into the house, you hear Tim ask him what happened. You hear Toby’s door open. You hear everything over the rushing water.

You try to not eavesdrop, but it is truly so hard when you can hear them like they are next to you. You hum softly, hoping your noise cancels out their speaking. It does not.

“What happened to your hand?” Tim asks Brian, and then quickly asks where you are.

“They’re showering.” It is all he gives his friend.

“What happened t-to your h-hand?” Toby sounds irritated.

Brian knows must know you can hear them. He says to ask you when you get out. How polite. You wash yourself as quickly as possible, and step out of the shower. You hear them start talking again.

“How did you find them?”

“Bloody, on the side of the road.” Brian starts. “We had a nice talk, and they vented their frustrations to me.” Okay, he knows I can hear him, you think to yourself.

“Wh-what kind of frustrations?” Toby asks. “Sexual?”

How the fuck do they all know? You want to scream. There is no response. You are certain Brian nodded at Toby. You get dressed and walk from the bathroom, take your clothes to the laundry closet, you hear mumbling, low and quiet. You can barely make out what they are saying. They immediately shut up as you walk in. You cross your arms and look at the three all standing around each other. They all turn to you at the same time, eyes boring into you. You want to scream.

“What the fuck did you say?” You look at Brian with confusion. You roll your eyes when there is no answer. “Why are you all three standing there… Conspiring against me?”

“Oh!” Toby smiles at you. With his muzzle off, his grin is frightening, leaving your stomach flipping. “I-I would say it’s the opposite of con-conspiring against you, dear.”

You are stuck. Toby is the first to step towards you. He’s wearing a black tank top and gray sweatpants. His cut has been bandaged completely; you can tell because the scent of his blood is not as strong as it was before. He still smells so good though, you are sure you are going to lose your mind.

“What happened to Brian’s hand?” Tim asks, snapping you out of your trance.

You look at Brian for reassurance. He nods, giving you the okay to share what happened. You look back at Tim. “He was proving a point to me,” You start, “that I can control myself.” Toby loses it. He twitches and his jaw clenches, before relaxing and he finally speaks. “You-you drank fr-from, from him?” He narrows his eyes at you, pointing at Brian.

“Yes.”

“And it was fucking hot!” Brian boasts.

You groan, placing your face in your hands. “Today's been a lot,” You are suddenly rethinking the earlier proposal from Brian. “I'm sure you are all tired–”

“No.” They all speak at once. Then Brian takes over the conversation. “We don't have to do this. But, I want you to know, we are here for you. No matter what you need.”

No matter what you need. There are heavy implications behind that. You can feel them. How he holds himself says it all. Tim and Toby seemingly agree. Toby is biting at the fucking bit to get to you; you can feel it. He is holding himself back extremely well. He shifts and you inhale slowly. They are all so aroused. Your jaw clenches and your eyes shut tight. You need to think.

“I've never done this.” You open your eyes and stare at the three of them. Toby’s head tilts and you notice his hand twitch. He is excited. “Had a threesome. I mean, I haven't done anything since being turned. What if I hurt one of you?”

“You-You won't. If you d-do, we-well we ha-have a wooden ste-steak.”

“You'd put me down? Just like that!?” You almost scream at him. Toby finds it funny. You roll your eyes and cross your arms. “Really…” You stomp your foot a little bit. “I would not be able to live with myself if I accidently hurt one of you. And also, how are you going to decide who goes first?” You cock a brow at them.

“Me! M-Me! Brian got lu-lucky already, it's m-my turn!” Toby almost launches himself at you.

“Oh! So what am I? Chopped liver?” Tim grunts.

You have never had this much attention. It almost sends you into a spiral. “I promise, you'll all get a turn!” You put your hands up and speak without thinking. This ignites a fire in the men that is worse than whatever was going on before. They look like they are going to go absolutely mad to get to you. Toby immediately reaches for you. Without missing a beat, you are on the other side of the couch, staring at them.

“Ah,” You click your tongue. It clicks how much power you have at this moment. “I want to go over ground rules before we start this.” They all nod eagerly at you. “I need you all to tell me if it's too much. If I'm holding you too tightly or draining too much blood.”

“That it?” Tim crosses his arms at you.

You tap your chin. “I heal really quickly. Bite me, leave hickeys, do whatever. But–” You put a finger up, “Nothing too violent. I'm afraid if you happen to hit me I won't stop draining your blood. And then I'll have to face something I'd rather not even look at.”

“Sounds good enough.” Brian nods.

“Now,” You bite the inside of your lip, “I want to try something, if you're okay with it Toby?” He is the most excited. “I'll need my accountability partners here with me though.” You smile at Tim and Brian. They agree. “I want to taste you, if you're okay with that?” You know his answer. You need it verbalized.

“Y-yes! I tho-thought you wo-would never ask!”

“What am I supposed to do? If you start killing him?” Tim seems curious. More curious than concerned.

“I don't know!” You smile at them, shrugging. “Do you want to do this out here? Or on a bed?”

Toby sits on the couch and excitedly pats his lap. “H-Here. Th-the couch.” You nod. You stalk towards him, the thought of feeding from him is doing something for you. You stop in front of him.

“Toby?” Your eyes move from his eyes to his thigh, back to his eyes. Toby hums in response, slightly agitated you have not sat on his lap yet. “Um,” You purse your lips, “You don’t mind being, uh, naked in front of your friends do you?”

Toby laughs. “No.” His answer is short and sweet.

“Okay,” You nod, “take your pants off.”

Toby obliges. “Th-thought you w-would n-never ask.” He slides his sweats off, and he is not wearing any underwear. You bite your lip, seeing his cock is already hard. You drop to your knees immediately and scoot completely up to him. Toby’s hand instinctively rubs at his cock as you situate yourself, precum dripping from the head.

You grip the couch cushion and look at the bandage on Toby’s thigh. “Mind if I-”

“Please,” Toby whines. “Do so-something. I’m-I’m begg-ing.”

You rip the bandage away and stare at the wound momentarily. It definitely is not as bad as it seemed earlier. Your pupils are dilated, and you look up at Toby, wide eyes watching him, waiting for consent to go wild on his wound. You cannot even muster the will to ask if you can, you lick your lips and as soon as the brunette nods at you, your grip tightens on the couch cushions.

You know if you grab his legs you are going to bruise him. You do not take into consideration he would like that. Your eyes shut and you lick a stripe across the cut. You moan. Loudly, you moan into his thigh. One of the cushions pops under your white-knuckled grip. Foam comes out from between your fingers and Toby whimpers. This sends you into a fucking frenzy.

You let out a low, primal growl. Your eyes shoot open and meet Toby’s. His hand is working on his cock, stroking it. Tim and Brian are standing behind the couch, watching you become feral looking. They are turned on too. You can smell arousal all around the room.

“Bite- Bite me.”

You smile against his skin. You oblige. What sort of person could deny such an airy, whiny request? Not you, that is for sure.

Your eyes stay on Toby’s; you do not look away. Your fangs gently sink into his skin, and you let out a low groan. Fuck. You are not sure if you can let go now. You do not want to. Your tongue laps up the blood, and you begin to suck on the place you just bit. Your eyes shut, a shiver going down your spine, and your hand grabs Toby’s thigh.

Your nails dig into the skin. Toby shifts and you know he cannot feel the pain, but you do not want to cause any harm to him. But, at the same time, you want to drain him dry. He tastes divine.

“Do you feel it?” Brian asks, voice low. “The euphoria?” His hand is on the back of the couch; he is looking right at Toby.

Toby moans, and then softly whines. “Y-Yes.”

While Brian is asking Toby that question. Tim is focused on you. While it is completely sexy what you are doing, he does not want Toby dying. Tim says your name, trying to catch your attention, but you do not immediately pull away. Tim walks from around the couch and his hand hits your shoulder. A possessive growl escapes you. Tim does not falter. He snatches your shoulder back and you release Toby. Ready to latch onto whatever is stopping you. You do not register it as Tim at first. Just some threat stopping you from feeding.

“Hey,” Tim’s voice is low and stern. “You drank enough.”

Red warmth covers your mouth, throat, and chest. Your fangs are bared at Tim and your grip is tight on Toby’s thigh. Tim grabs your face and lowers himself to your level. You are still on your knees.

“You know,” He starts, “I’d kiss you right now, if you weren’t covered in Toby’s blood…”

This snaps you out of it. You pause briefly. Your eyes are back to normal, pupils blown from ecstasy. “You would?” Your face softens.

“Come- Come on!” Toby groans. “Thi-This dick is-isn’t g-gonna suck itself.”

You look back at him and bite the inside of your lip. Tim releases your face and shoos you back to Toby. You crawl back to him, resuming your earlier position.

“I would like to note,” You start, “I have not sucked dick since getting fangs. I’m so sorry if-”

“Don’t be.” Toby swallows hard. “Pl-Please, just- just do s-something.”

You licked over the wound, hoping to stop the bleeding long enough to get Toby off. He can take care of it after you are done with him. You wipe your mouth with your hand, quickly wiping the blood away. One of your hands rests on Toby’s thigh and the other goes towards his cock. Toby twitches as you touch him. He whimpers again as you touch him. You gently pump up and down and place your mouth over the tip. You begin to take him into your mouth, and you quickly realize you do not have a gag reflex anymore.

Your eyes open and look up at Toby. He is watching you closely, not daring to look away. “Keep- Keep looking at m-me.”

His voice is whiny, but he sounds so demanding at the same time. You follow his instructions. You moan as you suck his dick, head bobbing up and down. Your eyes don��t break away from Toby’s. One of your hands goes towards the heat between your legs. You moan again as you touch yourself.

Toby is slowly coming undone. Your pace on Toby picks up as your thumb finds your clit. It is becoming difficult, keeping up with everything. Making sure you do not hurt Toby, bringing yourself pleasure, and making Toby feel good. It is all so much.

“I’m-” Toby’s voice is airy, “-close.”

Toby has been restrained, but as soon as your eyes shut, ecstasy close to washing over you, Toby seems to sense that. His hips begin to buck into you; your hand was not there to restrain that. You gasp, shocked at the sudden movement, and your eyes open back up, wide and full of surprise.

Toby releases into your mouth. You, without thinking, swallow. You pull back from Toby and let out a growl. “Toby! I was close too! Now I’m just aching-”

“That was hot.” Brian interrupts you.

You stand up from Toby and look at Brian. Your eyes narrow and you huff. “Oh it would have been so much hotter if I got to come too!”

“I can fix that,” Tim takes a step closer to you. “Plus, I’m the only one who you haven’t fed from. You aren’t full, are you?”

Your eyes darken and you smile at him, “Of course not, Tim.” You realize just how bloody you are from Toby and pause. “Let me at least clean this blood off.”

Tim nods. As you walk to the bathroom, Tim follows you. You grab a washcloth and wet it. You take your shirt off, and Tim’s eyes wander to your chest. You are wearing nothing under your shirt. Tim does not say a word as he watches you clean up. He only watches. You watch him from the mirror. As your hand rubs the cloth across your skin, his eyes follow. Your movements are slow and meticulous. You smile at him, while looking at the mirror, as his eyes come back up to yours.

As you put the washcloth in the dirty clothes, you look at Tim. “What did you have in mind?”

“Let’s go to my bedroom.” He looks ravenous. You feel the way he looks.

You grab his hand and follow behind him as he leads you to the bedroom. Brian and Toby seem to hear you and begin to make their way to the room as well. You look back and see Toby is wearing his pants again, his wound most likely bandaged… again. Tim does not give you time to think about Toby’s blood. You are pushed against the wall, opposite of the door, and you look at Tim with surprise.

“Can I drink from you?” You give him a soft smile.

“Please,” He groans. You nod, excitedly, and you grab Tim’s shoulders and pull him closer. You begin to kiss at his neck. You kiss down the spot you want to bite. The spot where you can feel his pulse racing. He is not nervous though. He does not feel nervous at all.

Before you bite him, Tim’s hands are wandering up and down your body. His hands tracing your cold skin, his fingers pinching at your nipples, before finally traveling to your waistband. As he pulls at the waistband of your pants, your teeth sink into his neck. He freezes up momentarily. You smirk against his skin. He feels it.

Tim grips your hip and his hand slides past the waistband, easily finding your pussy. He moans out as you slowly suck on his skin. He does not falter as you continue, his fingers pushing past your folds and into your entrance.

He begins to pump in and out, slowly at first. His thumb finds your clit and it is your turn to freeze up. Tim smiles and lets out a laugh. “How does it feel?” He coos at you. You lap at his neck and pull back. “How does it feel, them watching us?” Tim's head tilts. Your eyes move from Tim and towards Toby and Brian. You let out a whine, and Tim’s thumb grazes over your clit again.

“Feels good-” You look back at Tim. You clench around his fingers and Tim smiles.

“Want me to fuck you in front of them?”

You cannot answer. You only nod. Tim, noticing you are not as messy as you were with your earlier feeding, kisses you. His tongue slips into your mouth and his fingers work on you until you are coming undone. You clench around him again and moan into Tim’s mouth. Your hips buck into his hand and your legs are turning to jelly.

Tim pulls back and removes his hands from your pants. Your eyes open and you give him a confused look. He slides his belt off and you stand there, still slightly disoriented.

“Im going to fuck you, remember?” He says it so nonchalantly. Oh yeah. You nod but still just stand there. “Do you want me to do that with your pants on?” He questions you.

Oh… You are embarrassed now. If heat could rush to your cheeks, you would be on fire. You huff and slide your pants and underwear off. You stand uncomfortably for a moment. Your eyes look back at Toby and Brian. They are watching you, only you. You feel so small under their gaze. And for a moment, you forget how strong you are. You forget you could have the upper hand at any given moment.

“You still okay?” Tim asks.

You nod. “Just getting comfortable.”

“We have all night, sweetheart,” He is standing only in his underwear now.

“And all of tomorrow.” Brian smiles.

“Y-yeah.” Toby speaks up. “You-You can’t g-go out during th-the day.”

He has a point. “I think you three will not last all night and tomorrow with me.”

“That a challenge?” Tim asks, his brow cocking.

You shrug. “You three are humans, and I am not. I have pretty much endless stamina.”

“That’s a challenge.” Brian smirks.

You look at Tim, “Please, just fuck me.”

“Of course.” He smiles.

Tim is out of his underwear and on you in seconds. You are flush with the wall, and Tim is pressed against you. His hand grabs at your thigh, and you wrap it around his waist. Tim’s cock pushes into you and you groan. He lets out a low moan and you hear his heart rate pick up. Your hands are on his shoulders, and you press your forehead to his. Your arms wrap around his neck and refrain from scratching his back. You are still learning your own strength.

In no time, Tim is pumping in and out of you. Your hips are chasing his every time he pulls away and his hands are gripping you tightly. His bruising grip does not let up, it only becomes tighter as you moan and whine for him.

“Tim,” You cry out, “I’m-”

Tim’s pace quickens but is still not sloppy. His movements are thought out and nowhere near sloppy. The sound of him fucking you fills the room, and for you it is only amplified. You can feel, hear, and smell everything way better than when you were human. It is making you come quicker.

“Where can I-?”

Tim starts, and you do not let him finish. “Inside.” You huff out, “can’t get pregnant.”

That is all the reassurance he seems to need. Everything in you becomes tense. You are starting to see stars. As you come, so does Tim. He releases inside of you. You are nowhere near done though.

“Brian,” You lean your head back against the wall, Tim pulls away, his come is spilling out of you. Brian perks up. “Lay on the bed please. Preferably not clothed.” Brian is quick to undress and get on the bed. He is hard, seems to have been since you drank from him earlier. You bounce back fast and go towards the end of the bed. “Mind if I ride you?”

He shakes his head. “Do whatever you want to me.”

You nod. You get on the bed and crawl up towards Brian, straddling him. You hover above his cock and place one of your hands on his chest. “Let me know if it’s too much.”

“It won’t be.”

You nod. You place yourself on his cock and begin to move slowly. You begin to bounce, your pace becoming steady. You are slow at first. Brian grabs your hips with his hands. His grip is about as strong as Tim’s. It is fueling you. You lean forward slightly, one hand still on Brian’s chest, and the other grabbing the headboard.

It is becoming a lot for you. All the sensations are so much. The sound of your skin smacking against his, the feeling of Tim and Toby watching you, and the smell of blood and arousal in the room.

Brian’s hands guide you, almost forcing you to go faster. Figuring that must be what he wants, you pick up the speed. Your nails dig into the wood of the headboard, scratching the polished surface.

“Fuck!” Brian hisses out. “Just like that. You’re so good-” He reassures you.

You lean forward slightly, beginning to see stars again. “Shit!” You cry. “I can’t-” You make sure to not push down on his chest. Instead, you put all of your strength into the hand grabbing the headboard. You hear it snap as Brian comes inside of you. You do not immediately get off of him. Your fingers are digging into the splintered wood as your pace finally slows.

“Fuck,” You pull your hand from the headboard. “I’m so… Damn, I’m sorry.” You lean against Brian as you come back down from your high and you huff.

“You broke my headboard.” Tim sounds unamused.

“And- And the co-couch is fucked too.” Toby mentions, causing you to groan.

Brian’s arms wrap around you, and he laughs. “Come on guys, they’re still learning their own strength.”

“Yeah!” You snap back. “You’re all lucky I didn’t hurt any of you… More than I may have…” Brian’s hand rubs up and down your back. “As much as I would love to sit here, I need to clean up. And you three probably need to take some Motrin or something. Those bites will hurt soon.”

You push yourself up and begin to walk towards the bathroom. As you are leaving the room, Toby starts to speak to Brian and Tim. You ignore it, since he seems to be talking to them, and not you. You tune out what he is talking about and begin to clean yourself up. Again.

As you slide into the hot shower all you can think about is the new relationship forming between the four of you. You sigh and relax in the water. You do not have a care in the world, not even to Toby is talking about just outside in the room across the hall. All that matters is you have three people who seem to accept you. Even if you are some bloodlust ridden creature.

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