#if i SOMEHOW forgot you in the tags please note:

[cyncerity]

HAPPY 3 YEARS TO THIS BLOG!! 🎉💕🫶

i’m so happy i’ve been a part of this little community for as long as i have. everyone is super nice and inspiring and unbelievably talented, and im so glad to be posting content with people like y’all.

it’s absurd to think i’ve been doing this for 3 years and that i almost have 800 people here seeing it, but the love and support i’ve received over these years has been incredible. given that this is such a small community and i’ve either spoken with most of you or have at the very least interacted with your content, i feel confident in saying that every single person here is incredible in their own right and truly are the reason i stay here. you guys are genuinely the best, even if i forget to answer your asks or sometimes leave you on read for a while (i do that with everyone i’m so sorry) i mean it when i say that i do consider a good portion of you my friends. even if it’s been a while since we messaged or talked, you’re all awesome. and if i don’t know you personally, please feel free to message me! i love making friends, especially in a community like this that has time and time again proven to have some of the genuinely nicest people on the internet <3

i love writing and drawing and i’m not leaving here for a long while yet. the asks i’ve received saying that i inspired people to write, draw, or post are some of the nicest things i’ve ever received, and i truly mean it from the bottom of my heart when i say that those have changed my life. the self confidence and love for my craft that i’ve gained from being here is immeasurable, and that’s thanks to all of you, whether you’ve been here for years or are new to this blog.

given that this is an anniversary thing, i wanna thank @bittydragon, @baka-monarch, @wendy130, @darkeninganon, and @awesome-slime-lover for introducing me to this community. i was stalking their blogs on google far before i had an account here, and i only made an account so i could send them fanart, so you have them to thank for dragging me here lmao

i also wanna tag @plant-gt-thought-box, @kayla-crazy-stuffs, @blurrybunnie, @apersonstories, @funtimemoth, @mysticalblue09, @corysmiles, @pixy-stix-art, + some others who are not on tumblr anymore for being friends with me and actually being some of the kindest and funniest motherfuckers. Ik i haven’t spoken to some of you in forever, and i hope this isn’t coming off as parasocial, but you guys are awesome and i wish you nothing but the best (and if you wanna message more or get on vc again some time please lmk cause i am a social wuss)

and if i’m gonna list people i might as well tag the people who even if i don’t know as well, are all super talented and leave me marveling at everything they post on here (whether or not you post mcyt g/t anymore, you’re all still incredible creators who make me want to improve my own work): @eyes-eye-eyes (my /p wife <3), @wren-writes68, @jkknight98, @arc852, @brick-a-doodle-do, @oh-i-need-a-name, @quotemenevervore, @melissa-s23, @i-am-beckyu, @random-tinies, @archaxwii, @itty-bitty-rainbow, @goosedawn, @beansthough, @make-a-memory, @aslitheryprinx, @avengerofsquids, @thatoneteadrinker666, @shushiyuii, @x-pair-o-dice-x, @jammanthejam, @trouble-off-grid, @lunar-but-little, @frickfrackiwastakingabath, @chequered-career, @bio-nerds-corner, @dingbatnix, @cottoncandythetrashpanda, @sprite-addicted-artist, @colossal-red, @sheena-yuet, @quackxolotl, @local-squishmallow, @nobodywritingao3, @deity-of-keys, @astraymetronome, @a-xyz-s, and tumblr has now told me that i’ve hit the max of 50 mentions so i will have to reblog this with the rest of you (crazy to think that there’s that many of y’all but i really do want to shout out everyone) (also if you’re one of these blogs that doesn’t post mcyt anymore and don’t want yourself associated with it, just lmk and i will remove your tag from my list, just know that your previous work in this community was admired and appreciated <3)

also can’t forget the anons and the followers that aren’t outwardly a part of this community (don’t have g/t blogs, don’t have mcyt blogs, or just don’t post in general). i’m lucky enough that i’ve never received hate from an anon before, everything you guys have ever sent is so nice and you also have great ideas! I am so sorry if it takes me forever to share those ideas publicly, but know that each of you are appreciated. and for my followers, i truly wouldn’t be anywhere without you guys, so thank you for supporting me <3

anyway, i might be getting over sentimental about all this, but 3 years is a long time, and over that time i’ve grown very attached to this little group of creators and i just wanted to let you know how loved and appreciated you are

💕💖🫶💕✨

[wintrbears]

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.

[checkeredflagggs]

Unsolved

Pairing: charles leclerc x podcaster!reader

summary: when charles admits to listening to unsolved, Ferrari take it upon themselves to play matchmaker

a/n: Hope everyone has a good 2025!

a/n2: I made up all of these murders and mysteries. My bad if they’re actually real

scuderiaferrari

liked by yourprivate, maxverstappen1, arthur_leclerc, and 3,138,723 others

scuderiaferrari: Carlos and Charles took the stage today to answer fans’ questions!

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user1: god do they look good

↳user2: i knnnnnoooowwwww

↳user1: gnawing at the bars of my enclosure right now ngl

user3: loved the little baking lesson that Carlos had going on there at one point

↳user4: god can we get charles to take notes???

↳arthur_leclerc: it wouldn’t help

↳charles_leclerc: stop lying! I can cook

↳arthur_leclerc: you can’t

↳user4: we saw that pasta video…unless you’ve gotten vastly better no you can’t

user5: my big surprise takeaway was that charles also listens to unsolved? He seems like that would be too scary for him tbh

↳user6: listen that man has been in Ferrari for years now

↳user6: listen to the horrors? No no no. He lives with them. He is them

↳user7: alrighty there Mr. Philosophy. Chill

user8: ok but did you see his blush when they asked why he liked unsolved?

↳user9: YES! I think the mans likes the podcaster, not the podcast!

↳user8: can you blame him? They’re hot af

user10: ok but i feel like this is the start of a meet cute? liked by charles_leclerc, yourprivate

↳user10: did??? Did Charles just like my comment???

↳arthur_leclerc: 😆😆😆😆

unsolved

liked by charles_leclerc, pierregasly, maxverstappen1, and 724,293 others

unsolved: Let’s talk death and disappearances this month — three cases spread across 3 states and 3 decades that have never been solved that starts and ends in Boston! Lisa Miller, …more

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user11: chilling…

user12: ok but why do they match so well…did you just somehow connect these 3 murders?

user13: damn do the fbi need to hire you. liked by the fbi

↳user13: wait what???

maxverstappen1: good stuff 👍🏻

↳user14: what in the earth is this crossover???

↳user15: vroom vroom guys listen to murder mystery podcast??

↳charles_leclerc: NO. NO WE DONT

↳unsolved: shame 😞

↳charles_leclerc: no wait wait wait. I DO! They don’t.

↳pierregasly: 😂😂

↳user16: what in the world…

oscarpiastri: interesting, interesting…

↳charles_leclerc: SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP

↳oscarpiastri: that’s no way to speak to your son…

↳user17: what is going on in the House of Commons???

↳unsolved: that’s what we would like to know as well…

↳charles_leclerc: ABSOLUTELY NOTHING IS HAPPENIGN!!

Private Emails

scuderiaferrari

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, unsolved, and 2,133,464 others

tagged: unsolved

scuderiaferrari: COTA here we come…with a mysterious guest!

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user18: OH MY GOD did they really invite the unsolved podcaster Charles has been not so secretly thirsting over???

↳user19: they did! I bet it’s gonna be a really interesting race…

charles_leclerc: we look forward to seeing you!

↳user20: how long did it take you to type that out and not completely freak??

↳arthur_leclerc: longer than you think possible!

this comment was deleted

↳carlossainz55: his face was redder then our cars

this comment was deleted

↳pierregasly: I was fielding panicked calls all day. You have no idea

this comment was deleted

↳maxverstappen1: I just took his phone and did it for him 😂

this comment was deleted

user21: my fingers are crossed. I am sat. Please please please give us a good episode of unsolved with Charles and Carlos. You don’t understand my NEED for this to happen

↳user21: god I’m just imaging something like their prison episode from 2 years ago? Like spooky and creepy to the extreme!

↳user22: sorry but can you explain? I’m new to unsolved and am working backwards!

↳user21: of course! So about 2/2.5 years ago the unsolved crew camped out in a decommissioned prison with a ghost hunter group (I forgot their name sorry!)

↳user21: while the hunters were, you know, searching for ghosts, the unsolved crew were doing an in-depth study on all the creepy and dangerous murders that happened in the prison!

↳user21: it was a really fun crossover episode!

↳user22: oh! That’s so cool! And austion has some pretty haunted places — maybe they’ll do it again here!

unsolved has posted 3 stories

[COTA here I come!] [beautiful!] [The setting for tonight!]

user23 replied I’m so excited!

scuderiaferrari replied glad to see you on the way!

↳unsolved thanks for setting this up!

↳unsolved I’m very excited!

user24 replied oh my god that’s such a pretty photo!

user25 replied go get your man

↳unsolved whaat??

↳user25 oh my god you don’t know??

↳unsolved ???

↳user25 oh this is gonna be funny af

scuderiaferrari replied …you’ll have both our drivers back in one piece right??

↳unsolved of course!

charles_leclerc replied that’s…that’s where we are staying??

↳unsolved yup!

Bluesky

Bluesky

unsolved

liked by charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc, sebastionvettel, maxverstappen1, and 1,231,122 others

tagged: charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, scuderiaferrar, spiritsleuths

unsolved: only 1 driver was hurt in the making of this video and his name was…Jasper White! Thanks to scuderiaferrari for loaning us their drivers to make this amazing video that took a long look at some of the most haunting deaths in this local Austin landmark! And thanks to the Spirit Sleuths for helping us out last night!

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user26: spooky…

↳user27: it feels unreal that there were so many deaths in one place in such quick succession…

oscarpiastri: glad to see you made it though the night

↳charles_leclerc: of course I did! There was no problems whatsoever

↳unsolved: I’m pretty sure I have a couple of hours of video that show you screaming and clutching at me to prove that wrong…

↳charles_leclerc: you don’t ☺️☺️☺️

↳maxverstappen1: ohhh share?

↳unsolved: that’s no footage I guess

↳pierregasly: shame

↳charles_leclerc: thank you 😊

↳user19: hmmmmm user53??

↳user53: i see it. I see it

arthur_leclerc: ok but how many drivers were screaming???

↳unsolved: all of them!

↳charles_leclerc: no! Just 1 🥹🥹

↳unsolved: sorry just one!

↳carlossainz55: compañero?

↳charles_leclerc: just 1!!!

↳unsolved: sorry 🤗

↳user19: hmmmmm

↳user53: adding it to the folder now

user28: that was such a fun episode!

↳spiritsleuths: just wait for our cut of the night!

↳user28: I’m sitting. I’m sat. I’m ready.

sebastionvettel: never thought I’d see the day after that incident in 2019

↳landonorris: share!

↳oscarpiastri: don’t you mean the inchident

↳maxverstappen1: another inchident??

↳carlossainz55: it was for a love interest

this comment was deleted

↳charles_leclerc: this time it won’t be just an inchident

scuderiaferrari

liked by yourprivate, charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc, oscarpiastri, and 2,293,124 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

scuderiaferrari: And that’s our COTA winner Charles Leclerc!

view all comments

yourprivate: Where's the trophy? He just comes running over to me

↳charles_leclerc: who are we to fight the alchemy?

user29: man he moves fast

↳charles_leclerc: very fast!

↳charles_leclerc: not letting this chance escape me!

↳user29: oh my god im so jealous right now

↳yourprivate: 🤭🤭🤭

carlossainz55: congrats mate!

↳charles_leclerc: you too!

↳charles_leclerc: for both reasons!!

↳carlossainz55: shush!

↳user30: oh??? user19, user53???

↳user19: …I’m on it

↳user53: I’ll start the coffee

↳user31: COFFEE??!?? ARE YOU GUYS TOGETHER???????

↳user53:WHAT NO? AHAT? SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP

↳user19: I DONT KNOW AHAT YOURE TAKKING ABOU AHAHAHA

↳user32: user19 user53 act normal challenge — failed

pierregasly: thank god. Now stop texting me asking how to ask them out

↳charles_leclerc: stop. talking.

↳yourprivate: awww were you nervous?

↳pierregasly: if nervous includes texting me over 200 times in an hour with different pick up lines and selfies asking how his hair and outfit looked?

↳pierregasly: yes

↳charles_leclerc: im going to run you over 😄

↳scuderiaferrari: you can’t actually say that Charles!

↳charles_leclerc: for legal reasons this was (not) a joke

↳charles_leclerc: 😁😁😁

↳pierregasly: …I don’t like that emoji calmar

↳charles_leclerc: 😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁

user33: the way he sprinted over to her…

↳user34: I have NEVER been so jealous as I am right now

↳yourprivate: ehehehehehe

↳user34: ok no need to rub it our faces

↳yourprivate: why wouldn’t I?

↳charles_leclerc: 🥰🥰🥰🥰

↳yourprivate: 😘😘😘😘❤️❤️❤️❤️

↳user34: right in front of my salad???

user35: wow that highway is calling my name tonight…

↳user36: sleepover!

[1shouldbedoinghomeworknow]

NOTES GAME!

highly doubt this will get more than maybe 10 notes but bleh

1 note- drink water done!

5 notes- add all my moots on my intro post Done!

10 notes- a single, proper exercise session Done!

20 notes- clean table Done!

25 notes- clean fish tank (already clean, just need a reminder for the next time) Done!

50 notes- find a new skill/ hobby done!

75 notes- work on a drawing (I need motivation pls) Done!

100 notes- work on my hobby without giving up immediately somehow, done

250 notes- set up a proper schedule (basically, get my life together) done!

550 notes- finish every single holiday assignment I have

700 notes- Actually get my life together

i'll add any other goals i need to do later

tagging my peeps

@cartaline @fishteeth0 @c0nstantlyscreaming @avaparation @kupalinka6 @toastedjam @aetea-the-sappho @phallusmagnificus @palirmo95 (please get a new pfp you look like a bot, and reblog stuff too) @desperately-seeking-myself @tamilhobbit @anomymous1 and anyone else who wants to join/ I forgot to tag

Edit: NOOOO, I'VE BEEN DEFEATED!!! HOW TF DID THIS GET 100 NOTES WITHIN ONE DAY????

anyways it's nearly 11 so I can't work on those right now but I promise I'll work on all of it asap!

Edit no. 2: you may have defeated me once, but I'm not done yet! New goal!

Edit no. 3: HOW DARE YOU TRY TO HELP ME GET MY SHIT TOGETHER? I'VE BEEN DEFEATED YET AGAIN!!!!!

Edit no:4 perhaps this is for the best, new goal yall!

Edit no 5: I don't know if I'll be able to do all the hw in one day but I'll try! Thanks everyone

[nottslove]

THE OTHER GIRLS (part one) → part two

Pairing: theo nott x malfoy reader 5.7k words

Warnings: VERY VERY VERY LONG!!!!! 18+, mdni, smut, some fluff, a little angst, draco's little sister, brother's bsf, choking, nipple play, fingering, heavy cursing, drug use (theo smoking), corruption kink, degrading, praising, google-translated italian, porn with plot, obsessive/possessive theo, innocent reader, inexperienced reader x very experienced theo, lowercaps intended.

Summary: you're draco malfoy's younger sister by a year, and you've had a crush on theo all your life. you and theo were close childhood friends, but when he went to hogwarts, he forgot all about you. you joined hogwarts a year later, and unfortunately got sorted into gryffindor. as a result, theo and you only drifted apart further. he was always surrounded by girls. as the years go by, you try to get theo's attention in every way, but he never notices you. as a last resort, you end up taking advice from the girls that theo hangs around, in hopes that maybe... maybe it might finally work...

Author's note: WARNING: VERY VERY LONG! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!! (sorry but i tend to get carried away with the details). This is my first time writing smut, or posting it here on tumblr... Please be nice. Also, many many apologies that this is super, super long... Kinda got carried away.. Enjoy :))

THEO always spent Christmas at Malfoy Manor. Ever since his mother's death, and his father always having some sort of 'business trip,' Narcissa suggested that Theo resided with the Malfoys for the whole Christmas break, and some of the summer.

You had always loved him. Since you were three years old, you used to follow him and Draco around, tagging along after both of them, much to your older brother's annoyance.

Even during your Hogwarts years, you always tried to attract his attention, trying to show him you were all grown up, that you were more than Draco's little sister. But he never saw, he never once acknowledged you as anything other than a sisterly figure.

During your fifth year at Hogwarts, you realized that Theo was never going to reciprocate your feelings, so you decided to try and get over him. You weren't allowed boyfriends. Draco always beat up any guy who dared to ask you out, and Theo did the exact same. Any guy who talked to you, or said something about you behind your back, or even looked at you, would end up in the hospital wing. As a result, you had been stood up many times, wondering why your date never showed up, only to realize he had either been beaten up, or scared away by Theo and Draco. That night always ended up with you crying.

You were never allowed to go to parties, or drink either. Draco and Lucius were always very, very protective over you. You were the Malfoy princess, the youngest child, the favorite, the spoiled little girl...

Yet somehow, right before the Christmas break, you gave in to your little rebellious streak and your friend's persuasion to sneak into one of the Slytherin parties.

The moment you got to the party, you were completely shocked. This was nothing like what you had in mind... Your outfit, a pretty, dainty, little white dress with a skater skirt felt far too modest, and the whole room smelt of weed, sweat and alcohol. People were publicly making out, the girls dressed in the skimpiest clothing you ever saw, and at the center of it all, next to Draco and his friends, you saw him.

Your breath hitched. He was sitting on the couch, legs slightly spread, surrounded by girls, one was even on his lap, and he was holding a cigarette. Smoke surrounded him as he blew it out from his mouth, laughing as his hand trailed up and down the girl's thigh.

All at once, you felt jealous. All the feelings for him you had tried so hard to bury came surfacing, and your blood boiled with anger, hurt, betrayal... What did Theo see in those girls that he never saw in you??

You quickly turned around, before Theo, or your brother saw you, and accepting the firewhiskey your friend had gotten for you— even though you'd never drunk before.

One sip became one glass, and before you knew it, you were intoxicated enough to dance to the loud music, and you were soon surrounded by a small group of boys, who simply couldn't believe you, of all people, were actually at the party.

Theo had managed to catch sight of you, and he dragged you out of the Slytherin Common room after beating up all three boys to the ground, jaw ticking and fists clenching with anger.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" he growled.

Tears pricked your eyes as you stared up at him, but you didn't let them fall. You clenched your jaw, angry at him. He always, always ruined your fun.

"Partying, of course," you replied, a little too sharply for Theo's liking. But then again, you were drunk, after just one glass.

"Does your brother know?" Theo asked, ripping the almost empty glass of firewhiskey from your hand and tossing it aside lazily. "Do you want me to tell him you're here?"

"I don't care," was your reply, you sounded sullen. "You're not my dad, or my brother."

The answer was enough to send Theo into a rage, and he angrily grabbed your wrist with a grip slightly too harsh. "Go," he ordered, his dark blue eyes ablaze. "Go back to your dorm."

That had been the end of it.

Yet somehow, you still couldn't get over the memory of seeing Theo with a girl over his lap, and somehow, you wished that that had been you instead.

After that, you started to slowly eavesdrop on those Slytherin and Ravenclaw girls that usually hung around Theo, and you had managed to learn a few things from them...

One, that Theo loved short skirts, two, that he liked low necklines and tight blouses, and three, that he liked having girls sitting on his lap.

Which is why you were currently wearing the most revealing outfit you'd ever worn in your life, at the moment.

You always gave Theo a present for Christmas, every year, since you were very young, and this year was no different. The only difference was, that instead of leaving it under the tree, you'd be giving it to him in person, this time.

You'd made him some brownies— muggle style. It had been your first time ever baking something, and you were rather nervous of the outcome. Theo loved brownies, since he was young, and for someone who had everything in the world, you felt like something handmade would definitely be seen as more heartfelt.

The little white box of brownies sat on your dresser, wrapped with a pink ribbon— your signature style as you stared into the mirror, scrutinizing your outfit and applying all the finishing touches.

If your parents, or your brother ever saw her in this outfit, she knew she would forever be banned from doing your own shopping.

A baby pink, short, pleated mini skirt rested around your hips, just covering your ass. If you bent over, your ass would most certainly be on full display. You paired it with a lace, white, bralette top, with a deep, plunging V-neckline. It exposed your entire midriff, ending just short of your ribs, the lace transparent enough to see the milky skin underneath.

Your blonde hair was tied into a high ponytail, a few tendrils framed your face. You applied your waterproof mascara and a final layer of lip gloss.

You had never felt so bare. And yet, you felt so confident that you looked pretty.

Grabbing the box of brownies, you glanced at the clock. Ten past midnight. It was officially Christmas. Everyone was in their own rooms, and Theo's was conveniently just down the corridor from yours.

You were completely silent as you left your room, closing the door behind you, and headed to Theo's.

You gently knocked on the door, softly enough for anyone else not to hear.

"Come in," came Theo's lazy drawl.

Cautiously, slowly, nervously, you stepped in, closing the door behind you, the box of brownies held behind your back.

"Hi Theo," you whispered shyly, balancing on your heels.

He hadn't been expecting you. He had probably thought you were Draco.

But God— did his eyes rake your figure when he saw you wearing that tiny fucking skirt. The sight of you standing there, looking so goddamn shy and innocent was refreshing, to say the least.

He was seated on the couch, legs spread slightly, smoking a cigarette. Just like how he had been sitting at the Slytherin party—an empty bottle of whiskey rested on the side-table. The only difference? This time, his shirt was fully unbuttoned, tie draped around his shoulders.

You couldn't help but let your eyes wander down his chiseled abs, his bare muscular chest, and your fingers had the sudden urge to travel down his bare skin.

His hair was tousled, as if he had been running his hands through it... It looked so soft, you wanted to touch it. His dark blue eyes bored into yours with a hint of wickedness. God— he was so attractive.

"Baby Malfoy. I didn't expect to see you," he purred, lips curling into a smirk. "What brings you here at this time of the night?"

Oh, he knew of your feelings for him, he wasn't that oblivious. He knew exactly why you were here.

"I..." He always made you nervous. You couldn't help but stutter. "I came to give you your Christmas present..." you said softly.

"At this time?" he drawled, motioning for you to come closer with two fingers.

His hands.

His fucking hands.

They always drove you insane... Perfectly manicured, long fingers, veiny, defined, smooth... On numerous occasion, you had imagined him holding you with those hands, touching you...

But those were all fantasies.

Slowly, you moved closer, hesitantly, tentatively, cautiously... You didn't answer his question, you merely set the box in his lap and waited for him to open it.

He was quite surprised to see the brownies, to say the least. He had been expecting something else, something... bought.

He raised his eyebrows, looking at you carefully. "You made these?"

You nodded.

"By yourself? The muggle way? For me?"

You nodded again.

Once again, he smirked, and he grabbed a piece, gently biting into it, maintaining eye-contact with you the whole time.

Your heart was beating madly. Your stomach was full of fluttering butterflies, and goosebumps erupted all over your skin, making you feel cold.

Of course, it was winter, and you were dressed in practically nothing.

He chewed it, slowly, still holding your gaze. "It's good," he finally said, licking his lips and placing the box full of the rest of the brownies on the side table. "Good job, Baby Malfoy..."

He spared you no second glance as he went back to reading his book, and once again, you felt a sinking sensation fill you, and disappointment in your heart.

Obviously, he had expected you to leave. But when he still saw you standing there, he raised a brow. "Is something the matter?"

Tears pricked your eyes, but you blinked them away. You shook your head.

He went back to reading.

Until you could stand it no more. He hadn't mentioned one, single thing, one single comment about your outfit. You felt hurt. Hurt that you had put in so much effort, taken so much time to get ready for him, and he hadn't even smiled.

The words slipped out before you could control them.

"Do you like my outfit?" you blurt, sounding a little bit offended. "Don't I look pretty?" you continued, shyly biting your lip.

"You look like a whore," Theo replied coldly, without even looking up from his text.

This time, you couldn't help welling up at his harsh, hurtful words. He never said anything to those other girls when they dressed up like this for him.

"Th-there's no need to be mean," you whimpered, evident hurt in your beautiful silvery gray eyes. You were on the verge of tears. "I.. I spent hours dressing up just for you... and... and then you say—" You broke off, unable to finish your sentence.

That was enough to snatch Theo's attention. His eyes snapped back up to meet yours.

"You dressed up for me?" he echoed, his tone commanding, yet smooth, like he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

The way you blinked and looked away was enough to tell Theo your answer.

"What gave you the idea I'd like your outfit?" he asked, setting his book aside and putting out his cigarette, leaving the end in the ashtray.

Your cheeks turned red, and you averted your gaze back to the floor. "D-Daphne Greengrass and the other girls," you whispered shyly, very, very softly.

"Is that so?" Theo mused, taking in your every expression.

Slowly, you nodded.

"What else did you hear Daphne Greengrass and the other girls say?" he mocked.

You couldn't catch the irony in his tone until it was too late. Somehow, the answer slipped out before you could catch it. "Th-that you like it when girls sit in your lap," you mumbled, your voice sounding troubled, still very hurt by his words.

He really was mean.

You wanted to go back to your room and never see him again.

"Hm," said Theo thoughtfully, before he slid his tie off his shoulders, crumpled it into a tiny ball and flung it across the room, where it landed directly onto his bed.

"And? Aren't you going to follow their advice?" he asked, inching his legs slightly further apart.

Your eyes slowly slid up to meet his, utterly shocked he would even suggest it when he didn't like you that way.

Tears clung to your eyelashes, and you stood frozen, right there, unable to move.

A dry chuckle rumbled through him, and you hated the way it sent shivers down your spine. "Aren't you? Go on, I'm waiting..."

You blinked, a small whimper leaving you as you took a small step back, ready to go back to your room, but when he patted his lap, as his eyes bored into yours, challenging you, you realized he was being serious about this.

You wanted to leave, but part of you wanted to stay. Your eyes fell down to look at his lap.

This might be your first and last chance to sit on his lap, and before you knew it, you gently perched your bottom on his knee, avoiding his gaze, hands in your lap.

The moment you made contact with him, you felt his breath hitch the slightest bit, but otherwise, he remained composed.

"Like this," he ordered, both hands grabbing your waist and pulling you harshly towards himself, until both your legs were on either side of him and you were straddling his lap.

Fire danced on your skin, especially with the frigid metal rings he wore burning into your skin.

You let out a soft, yet audible gasp and your breath hitched.

Having no clue what to do, or what to say, you shied away from meeting his gaze, nervously chewing on your lower lip, unaware that Theo's eyes were burning into you.

"Good girl..." his praise rumbled in his throat, and once again, those butterflies returned in your abdomen.

His praise sent shivers down your spine, and slowly, tentatively, your eyes slid upwards to catch his gaze.

"Such an obedient whore," he murmured in a low tone, and once again, tears began pricking your eyes. No one had ever spoken to you this way, no one ever dared to.

"I'm... I'm not a whore," you whimpered, your teeth sinking harder into your lower lip.

"Well, you're dressed like a whore," Theo replied, faux pity lacing his tone. "Aren't you?"

You blinked, trying not to cry, but the tears only clung to your lashes and threatened to trail down your cheeks any moment.

"Answer me," he demanded, hands pressing your waist harder, cold rings searing your skin.

"Y-yes," you whispered, your teeth attacking your lower lip once more.

"So since you're dressed like a fucking whore, I'm gonna treat you like it... la mia puttana," he purred, lightly swatting your thigh.

That was all it took for you to break.

"Y-you're being mean," you whimpered, a single tear sliding down your cheek, tears swimming in your pretty gray eyes.

"Aww, poor baby," Theo scoffed. "Never had anyone talk to you like this? Never been treated like a whore before?"

He was breaking you, and he was succeeding. You had always gotten what you wanted, since birth. All you had to do was smile and flutter your eyelashes, maybe pout and fake a few tears...

Theo treated you differently. He didn't treat you like royalty, like you were used to... He treated you like... like a whore, and he seemed totally unaffected by your tears, which were real.

"I.. hate you," you cried, your voice breaking. "I.. I put in all this effort, trying to get you to notice me, and you..."

You broke off, choking a sob, pushing his chest in an attempt to get off his lap, but he only gripped your waist harder, setting you down on his lap and preventing you from moving.

"Sit fucking down," he growled, and you couldn't help but obey. "You're not leaving until I say you are, are we clear, amore?"

You nodded, another small sob leaving you as you gulped.

"I need words," Theo demanded.

"Yes," you whispered, sniffling, refusing to look at him, stubbornly glaring at your lap with your lip stuck between your teeth.

"Good girl," he praised, before his gaze softened slightly, realizing that you had probably learned your lesson. His demeanor shifted, becoming less harsh as he gently lifted his hand to your face, gently caressing your jaw.

Surprised as you were by his tender touch, you still refused to look at him. His thumb gently brushed your tears away, from both eyes.

"Look at me," he requested softly, tone low and very, very gentle.

You slowly lifted your gaze up, as if you expected him his sudden gentleness to be a trick your mind was playing on you. Your eyesight was slightly blurred by the tears you had shed, but as you looked at his face, you could see the softened look in his eyes.

"Shh, don't cry now, Principessa," he murmured softly, thumb gently caressing your cheek bone as he looked into your big, vulnerable gray eyes, full of innocence.

"Pretty girl," he murmured, thumb tracing soothing patters on your cheek.

Your stomach flipped at the praise. You couldn't believe your ears— Did he just call you pretty after calling you a whore??

"You're such a pretty girl, so fucking gorgeous," he continued. "You don't need to wear such revealing clothes, show off your body to look pretty..."

You were silent, yet your sniffles subsided. You were now staring at Theo with rapt attention, his praises slowly bringing back your confidence.

"Those other girls..." he murmured softly. "They're not as beautiful as you, that's why they need to show off their bodies... That's why they dress like whores..."

His voice was soft, delicate around you. "But you..." He let out a low whistle, shaking his head. "You're not a whore, you're a fucking princess..."

One of his hands rested on your cheek, the other at his side, on the seat of the couch, next to his pocket. "Why would you listen to the other girls, hm? Why would you want to be like the other girls?"

"I..." you began, finding your voice. "B-because you like them," you whispered. "You notice them.. I thought.. I thought maybe if I become like them, you'd like me too.. You'd notice me too..."

You couldn't hide the pain in your voice, the longing in your tone. And somehow, as the words slipped out, you realized you had practically confessed your obvious feelings for Theo, the feelings you tried so hard to hide.

Once again, you bit your lip, an irksome habit that you'd had since you were young.

Slowly, Theo's thumb gently trailed down your cheek and landed on your lower lip, and he softly tugged it free, away from the grasp of your teeth. His touch was cold against the warmth of your lip, and his thumb lingered there for a while, as if he did not want to pull it away. "I've always noticed you," he confessed, his voice a low mutter.

Your breath hitched, and he chuckled slightly, gently running his thumb across your lower lip.

Your eyes fluttered shut, and your cheeks turned slightly pink at how good Theo's touch felt, even though it was just a little bit.

"You like that, don't you?" he murmured softly, and you nodded singly, just once.

"Use your words, Baby," Theo cooed.

"Theo," you whispered, accidentally blurting out his name.

Once again, he slowly moved his hand back to your bare waist, rings pressed into your skin, and his thumb resting just at the hem of your bralette top, underneath your ribs.

His other hand remained on your cheek as his thumb continued caressing your lower lip, coaxing your mouth to open slightly, before he slipped his thumb through your parted lips.

A small whimper left your lips, and you opened your eyes, your gaze locked on his.

Slowly, without even realizing it, your tongue accidentally brushed against the pad of his thumb, and Theo bit back a low groan as he pushed the entirety of his thumb into your mouth.

Your heart was beating thunderously in your chest, and you had no idea what Theo was doing, but whatever it was, you liked it. You didn't want it to stop... You had his attention, and you wanted it on you forever.

Your eyes fluttered shut, and you enjoyed the way his thumb fit perfectly in your mouth, until you got carried away, tongue tracing the length of his digit.

Theo suddenly lost it. All his control snapped as a growl escaped him. "Does my dumb little whore want her mouth filled?" he drawled, pulling his thumb away.

Hot. You felt hot with the way he spoke, with the way his words drove you insane. Even though he called you a whore, this time, you liked it. Because he called you his pretty little whore.

A whimper left you when he pulled his thumb away, disappointed at the lack of contact.

A smirk curled across his lips and he let out a small chuckle. "Mm, that's what I thought," he whispered, more to himself than to you.

Before you knew it, he had pushed the tips of two of his fingers into your mouth; his index and middle, fingertips pressing down on the pad of your tongue.

"Let's see how long you can suck on my fingers without gagging, shall we?" he cooed, pushing the rest of his fingers deeper into your mouth, until they were all the way in.

A small groan left you, but it was muffled by his fingers, and slowly, you started sucking on his long digits, your eyes fluttering shut as you lost yourself in a rhythm.

Theo pressed harder on your tongue, activating your gag reflex, and he only chuckled when you gagged.

"Just my fingers, I know you can handle it— such a good girl..." he praised, his other hand tightening around your throat, blocking your airway.

You choked, a huge wad of saliva dribbling down your chin, tears filling your eyes because you couldn't breathe.

The thought of his very large, veiny hands manhandling you like this only turned you on, and he had barely even touched you. You could feel yourself grow wetter between your thighs, and the fact that you were on his lap, barely clothed, only caused your heartbeat to quicken.

He only pulled out his fingers when they were covered in your saliva that dribbled down your chin, and gently wiped them on his lap.

Once again, you were disappointed. It was like he was playing with you. One moment he was all over you, the next... he was gone.

"Theo, please," you whispered, your voice hoarse from being choked.

"What?" he asked, waiting for you to tell him what you wanted. He had expressed it very clearly that he wanted you to use your words, and that was only when he would give in to your desires.

"Please kiss me," you breathed shyly.

He did not hesitate. Both hands gripped your face gently as he kissed you.

He started off gentle, his lips gently brushed against yours, just barely. Then, when he felt your hands gently rest against his bare chest, he dove right into your mouth.

His lips collided with yours, his mouth devouring yours like a man starved.

You moaned softly, whispering his name, and that was all it took for Theo's other hand to roughly grasp your waist and slide you forward, pulling you closer, until your hips were flush with his. "Fuck," he gasped. "Such a pretty little moan—"

His teeth harshly grazed your lower lip, and he took advantage of your parted lips to slide his tongue into your mouth, engaging with yours in a fierce tango.

Once again, you felt needier and needier between your thighs, and you were filled with a mixture of fear and anticipation of Theo finding out exactly what effect he had on you.

He pulled away, and your mouth opened to protest, but the sound was drowned out when he attached his lips to your neck. He took a little bit of skin between his teeth, biting your flesh and eliciting a gasp from your lips as he sucked a mark there, his tongue running soothingly over the spot.

When he pulled away, a red spot had already began to bloom against your skin.

He didn't stop there.

His lips began trailing lower and lower as he left hickeys everywhere. Every sensual caress of his lips, every nibble of his teeth sent you into overdrive. His spicy, citrusy cologne kidnapped your senses, only heightening your pleasure.

His lips traveled all over your neck, all over your collarbones, trailing down to your chest. He was leaving hickeys all over the exposed swells of your breasts, your nipples hardening underneath the thin fabric to the point where they were reduced to aching pebbles.

"Wanna feel these perfect tits in my mouth," he murmured, his hands on both your boobs as he squeezed the soft flesh— they were the perfect size to fit into his palm.

You couldn't control your hands as they harshly gripped his hair, your thighs tightening around his hips. Involuntarily, your hand dragged his head down, until his lips came into contact with your clothed nipple.

"So fucking perfect..."

His hot mouth closed over the little nub, saliva dampening the white, lacy fabric. His other hand slowly caressed your other breast, squeezing the soft mound, thumb tracing gentle circles around your nipple through the thin cloth.

He sucked on your tit, before he grabbed the clothed nipple between his teeth and tugged, causing you to yelp.

At last, you could hold back no more.

A loud moan escaped your lips, and you cried out sharply, begging for him. "Theo, please," you whined, begging him to touch you where you needed it most. "I need you— please..."

That was all that was needed for him to unlatch his mouth from your clothed nipple with ragged breathing as he brought his hands to your back and shifted your position.

Now, you were lying down on the couch, and he hovered above you, leaning down to gently kiss you again.

"Tell me what you want, amore," he murmured, lips brushing against yours. He wouldn't push you, he wouldn't do anything you weren't ready for.

Your chest heaved, and you looked up at him pleadingly, your nipples aching underneath the damp fabric of your bralette top and your panties soaked.

"I... I want.. I want.." words failed you, so instead, you took a deep breath and swallowed thickly, gently grasping one of his larger hands in yours, and sliding it from your waist, to your thigh, above your skirt. "Anything," you whispered. "Please, please... touch me..."

Slowly, not wanting to rush you, Theo allowed his hands to gently travel down your bare midriff and your thighs, smoothing down the material of your tiny skirt, the hem barely reaching your mid thigh.

"Gods— so fucking sexy..." he murmured, allowing his hand to slowly slip underneath your skirt and caress your upper thigh, his thumb inching closer and closer to your heat, settling in the split between your thighs, right where you needed him most, resting above your clothed cunt.

"Is this okay?" he whispered softly, thumb gently tracing soft circles over your clit, through the thin, lacy fabric. He did not look underneath your skirt— he kept his eyes trailed on your face, on your flushed cheeks and your pretty eyelashes that kissed the chub of your cheeks every time you blinked.

"Yes," you breathed, nodding softly.

On feeling how soaked your panties were, a hitch blistered in his throat. "Poor baby," he cooed. "You must be so needy..."

You whimpered at the sensation his words sent through you, and you found yourself nodding.

"Let me help, yeah?" Theo murmured, his fingers sliding underneath the waistband of your panties, hand somewhere underneath your skirt.

He groaned loudly the moment his fingers came into contact with your wetness, and he couldn't help the curses that tumbled past his lips.

His index finger ran up and down your leaking slit, accompanied by his middle finger, whilst his thumb continued rubbing your clit in circles.

He balanced on his knees as he looked into your eyes, his other hand gently sliding the straps of your bralette down, exposing your breasts to the cool air, and to his gaze.

He was hard. So fucking hard.

No one had ever gotten him this hard before, and the sight of you, spread on the couch underneath him, so willingly almost caused him to cum in his pants.

So many times he had envisioned you like this, unbeknownst to you... So many times he had jerked off in the bathroom, imagining what you looked like underneath your clothes.

But he had to hide his desire for you, his obvious need— he couldn't face the wrath of Draco, let alone Lucius.

You were the best Christmas present. The best sight he had ever seen.

"Shit, shit shit—," he rasped, completely speechless, his fingers still playing with your folds underneath your skirt. "You're so fucking gorgeous," he praised, bringing his mouth to one of your nipples as his fingers teased your hole.

You were a whining, moaning, leaking mess for him. You were so wet, you felt like you would explode any moment, yet you needed him— more, more, more.

He seemed to understand, because the moment he licked a long stripe over your nipple, he gently eased the tip of his middle finger into your hole.

"So tight— so perfect," Theo groaned, as your virgin walls fluttered at the invasion, clamping tightly around his finger. He slowly eased it all in, gently pumping it in and out, his eyes watching your reaction for the first time.

Your chest heaved, and your moans grew more frequent at the blissful sensation of having something fill you.

You were content, until Theo eased another finger inside you, pumping both fingers faster into your hole, stretching it. Your eyes widened, and you gripped his hair, tugging on his roots harshly, eliciting a string of muttered curse-words.

"Fuck, fuck— Cazzo, cazzo, cazzo—"

You never realized you could feel this good, and Theo only heightened your pleasure when his two, long fingers curled up inside you, pressing against that fleshy spot.

"Such a tight little cunt," he grunted, words slightly muffled as his teeth attacked your nipple, with roughness that bordered on assault.

You could feel the knot form in your lower abdomen. You spread your legs slightly more as your climax approached, and you made it awfully clear that you were close as your moans grew louder.

"Oh my God—" you gasped. "Theo— ah— please, more... I'm... I feel.."

Theo quickened his pace, his fingers pounding into you as he watched your eyes roll back, your chest heave, your boobs bounce slightly with the way you moved your hips to seek more friction to get you to your climax.

The sound of him sliding his ringed fingers in and out of you was drowned out by your ecstatic moans, as Theo pumped his fingers faster and faster, thumb pressing against your clit. His biceps flexed, the veins popping out as he fingered you, curling and scissoring his fingers to hit that sweet spot over and over again.

His rings were cold against your heat, serving to bring you to your climax faster as they added friction when his fingers pistoned in and out of you.

"You're gonna cum for me—" he promised, hand pinching your nipple harshly, whilst he tugged the other one between his lips, your hips bucking into his fingers.

Her hands were clenched, fingernails digging into her palms as you cried out his name like a prayer. "Theo— ah— fuck... I'm so close... argh—"

That's it, cum for me, lia mia piccola puttana... Cum all over my fingers like a good little slut," he muttered. "Make a mess on my hand..."

With a deliberate force of his hand, he drove his fingers upwards one more time, thumb pressing roughly on your clit to draw out your climax.

With a shudder, and an arch of your back, your walls clenched around his fingers, you finally orgasmed, your body spasming and contorting in pleasure, and there was nothing else on your mind but him.

"That's it, my pretty girl, moan for me," he praised. "You sound so fucking pretty when you moan for me like that..."

Your juices soaked his hand, trailing down his fingers and curling around his wrist, and it was only when your orgasm ended that he stopped thrusting his fingers.

He slowly eased them out of you, blindly sliding your panties back into place with his other hand under your skirt, bringing his long fingers up to his mouth to taste your essence, groaning at how fucking delicious you tasted.

"So fucking sweet," he murmured, licking his fingers completely clean. His dick was hard under his pants, straining against his zipper, but he did not let the attention waver off you.

You watched him, eyes transfixed on his as he slowly slid your bralette back into place, covering your boobs.

"Merry Christmas, Principessa," he whispered softly, gently kissing you.

A smile formed on your lips as you stared up at him, still so shy as you thought about what you had just done. "Merry Christmas, Theo," you whispered back, unable to hide your joy.

You returned to your room a few hours before dawn, before anyone else could catch you. Changing into your pajamas, a constant grin was plastered on your face as you drifted off to sleep.

It lasted for the rest of the Christmas holidays too.

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©nottslove 2025. do not copy, steal or claim any works/graphics as your own.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

You'll Be Home For Christmas

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Summary: You agree to do a favour for your coworker but it might be more than you can handle.

Character: Clark Kent

Day Nineeen of the December Daze Challenge.

Prompt - fake dating becomes too real.

Note: As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

"I know it sounds weird, but, my mom's getting up there..." Clark looks away as he pokes his tongue into his cheek. 

You're not sure how he does it. How someone like him can make himself look pathetic. He's a big man. Mountainous really. He dwarfs just about everybody in the office. Even the desks look tiny next to him. And the chisel of his face is so sharp yet in that moment, he looks heart-wrenchingly soft. 

"It's just you two this year?" You ask. 

"Um, yeah," he rubs the back of his neck then drags his hand around and down his chest. He shifts in his chair and clears his throat. "Look, I know I can be nosy but I overheard you and Maggie. You said you don't have any plans this year--" He cringes and leans forward, putting his elbows to the desk as he covers his face then peeks out between his fingers. "It's a dumb idea." 

"It seems like you're pretty stressed," you fold your hands behind you. You don't want to agree with his last statement and make him feel worse. 

"Yeah, after Lois..." he shakes his head, "my mom's convinced I'm going to be alone forever and she keeps telling me how old she's getting. Says she wants to live long enough to see me happy." 

"Wow, sounds worse than my mom," you kid but quickly deflate. "Sorry, I'm not trying to make light." 

"No, it's ridiculous," he heaves and drops his eyes. "I've asked two of my neighbours, I asked my mail lady, and oh, yeah, the girl who made my coffee today. I'm all out of shame." 

"Can I think about it?" You ask. You know you're going to say no, but you don't want to do it right away. 

He perks up and his blue eyes flick to meet yours. His brows rise hopefully and he rolls forward in his chair, "really?" 

"I didn't say yes." 

"But you're the first person not to say no," he smiles. 

Oof, there it is. You've always had a hard time in situations like these. You're a people pleaser in the worst way. 

"Anyway, I should get back to work," you say. 

"When-- when will you know?" He asks. 

You hesitate. 

"End of today?" He suggests. 

You nod. Alright. You just need to get out of there before you cave to that puppy dog sparkle in his eyes. A man who looks like that shouldn't be able to make himself so pitiful. 

✨

You don’t know why you said yes. You really were going to say no but when Clark came back to check in, you weren’t prepared. So absorbed in your work, that you forgot about the odd request. 

So here you are, right beside him, wound as tight as a spring as you try not to show it. It’s not how you imagined spending Christmas. When your typical traditional obligation felt through, you were almost relieved. Now that dread has returned but in a new flavour. Meeting someone else’s family is somehow more intimidating than your mother’s judgement. 

Clark’s own anxiety pales in his knuckles as he drives silently. Only the radio provides some softness in the tension between you. It’s always strange to spend time with coworkers outside the office and now you’re jumping headfirst into their most personal facet. 

You fidget in your seat and let your eyes blur out the window. You didn’t expect his mom to live this far, yet you should have. He’d mentioned before he grew up on a farm. It must have been nice in a way, peaceful, out where you can’t hear the city honking and hollering. 

The snow thickens as you get further into the country. His large truck doesn’t falter as he steers cautiously through snowed over tire tracks. Would the plow even get this far out here? If it did, you don’t imagine it would come very often. 

Your mind latches onto those random things to avoid the obvious. You’ve always been this way. Instead of worrying about your mother lecturing you about your stagnant work situation, you’re usually more concerned with how your hair lays or if she’s going to the like that bottle of wine you spent too much money on for her. 

“Thanks again,” Clark’s baritone rolls over you like thunder. “Really. I know it’s... strange. I’m just not ready to date again but... my mom...” 

“Trust me. I get it. My mom can be... a lot,” you chuckle, though it’s really not that funny. 

“Oh yeah? I didn’t want to be nosy, but...” 

“Right, uh, you know, my brother asked if we could have dinner on Christmas Eve instead and the rest of us agreed. She insisted that Christmas Eve isn’t Christmas...” Your heart picks up with the anxiety you bury deep down. “Well, she cancelled Christmas since no one agreed with her.” 

“Wow, really?” 

“Uh, yep,” you can’t look at him. It’s embarrassing. It’s like when your mother dumped your birthday cake in the garbage because you pointed out you were 13 not 12 that year. Or when she walked out of your graduation because your grandmother wouldn’t switch seats. “It’s whatever. Family, right?” 

“I guess,” he says. “My parents always loved holidays too. Especially when dad was around.” 

“I’m sorry about your dad,” you murmur. 

“Don’t be. Sorry if it seems like I keep bringing that up,” he sniffs. 

You look ahead to the sole structure as it looms closer and closer. A farmhouse that comes clearer through the drift of flakes, and a barn like a shadow near its rear corner. It’s like one of those classic festive paintings printed on an advent calendar or some 1950s domestic dream. 

He pulls up to the house and shifts in his seat. Concern needles in his cheek as he squints over the steering wheel. He wrenches the shifter into park and kills the engine. You sit futilely and let him take the lead. 

“Lights are off,” he mutters. 

You nod, unsure what to say. Is something wrong? 

He gets out and you watch the snow dust into his dark hair and across his broad shoulders. He is unfettered by the deep snow. You zip up your coat and turn to your door. You push it open and look out into the perilous carpet. 

Clark surprises you as he comes around. “Here,” he puts his arms out, “it’s deep.” 

You grab his hand and his other goes to your waist. He as good as lifts you and sets you down in the path he’s stomped through the piles. You thank him and awkwardly detach. He shuts the door and moves around you closely. 

He leads the way to the porch so you can walk through his footsteps. Your lashes catch the snow as you look up at the grey sky. You don’t think you’ll make it home that night. Shoot. 

Clark kicks off his boots as he digs in the pocket of his coat and pulls out some keys. He unlocks the door and gestures you in ahead of him. You try to clear off your treads before you enter. He reaches around the frame to flip on the light. 

He crowds you as he enters. You try not to step off the mat and make a mess of the floor. You slip free of your Adidas, not the best choice for the weather, and shuffle aside. He hangs his jackets and combs his fingers through his hair to clear the flakes out. The dark strands glisten with the moisture. 

“Give me your coat,” he reaches for you. 

“Oh, yeah,” you unzip your jacket and hand it over. It isn’t exactly climate appropriate either. You’ve been meaning to invest in winter gear. A lot of times your intentions are only ever that. “Thanks.” 

“Quiet...” he mulls as his eyes skim the ceiling and he hooks your jacket on the rack. 

“Yeah, a little.” 

“Ma’s probably laying down,” he utters with a hint of concern. “I’m gonna go check and see what’s going on.” 

“Oh, I hope she’s okay.” 

“No worries. She stays up all night reading,” he shakes his head. “Feel free to make yourself at home.” 

“Right, er, okay.” 

You back up as he passes you. He heads upstairs and you slowly pivot to take in the interior. The pale wood is marked with knots which give it an even more rustic atmosphere and the decor is simple but in a quaintly traditional way. The details etched into the slender drawer of a side table or the dainty trim of the area rug give a lived-in effect. 

You tiptoe into the front room and hug yourself as you feel a draught whisper in around the window. You find the light switch and flip it on to cast more light across the neatly arranged furniture. There's an old-fashioned iron firestove in the middle of the room, the flue built up to the ceiling.  

You can hear Clark moving around above. The rest of the house is silent. You look at the old grandfather clock standing against the wall. It’s just after eleven in the morning. 

You turn as the stairs creak. Clark appears in the doorway with a sober expression. “Mom’s just waking up. It might be a while. She... she’s having a tough day.” 

“Oh, I’m so sorry. Is she sick?” 

“She is and she isn’t. Just getting older, you know? Ever since she broke her hip last year, she’s been a bit slower,” he explains. 

“Oh, gosh, Clark,” you say. “Is there anything I can do to help? You said she was planning on dinner but I can get all that started for her.” 

“Sure, she usually thaws the turkey in the sink overnight,” he says. “We should probably start there.” 

“Right,” you chew your lip. 

“It’s nice of you to offer but if it’s too much--” 

“No, no! It’s cool. I’ve just never stuffed a turkey on my own,” you say. “I was always just an observer.” 

Your mother never believed anything was done right unless she did it herself. Then she’d complain about having to do it. 

“I can help,” he offers. 

“Sure, sounds like a plan. I think she might appreciate the help, huh?” 

He smiles but doesn’t answer right away. For a moment, he only stares. He clears his throat and nods at last, “she would—will.” 

“Show me where it all is,” you show your palms, not wanting to presume too much. 

He beckons you after him as he leads you through the doorway perpendicular to the one you came through. He turns on another light. This place feels desolate with them off. 

“So uh...” he begins as he goes to the counter and peeks in the sink, “yep, turkey’s in here.” 

“Great, hopefully it’s dethawed,” you say. “Alright, do you mind if I poke around?” 

“It’s all yours. I’ll try to help but gotta be honest, as a kid, I was out in the field,” he stands back to watch you. 

“Right,” you come forward to look the turkey over. Good thing is it won’t need extra time due to being half-frozen. 

“Hum... do you know if your mother does stuffing from scratch or a box?” You turn back to him. 

“Scratch, probably,” he shrugs. 

“Cool, uh, I need bread,” you declare. It’s almost nice being in charge. A very new but refreshing feeling. 

✨

The smell of turkey wafts from the stove as you work at the other fixings. You follow the list on the fridge. The paper is a bit yellowed but you can read it nonetheless. At least Clark’s mother is a planner. Although a few of her ingredients are a bit... aged. Nothing you can’t use but the spices have a little extra dust on the caps. 

Clark appears again. He’s been pacing in and out, helping where he can, but he seems too restless to focus. You tap pause on your phone to stop the music. You don’t get any signal out here but you have a bunch downloaded. It helps ease the silence that thickens with the fall of snow. 

“So, how’s mom? She doing okay?” You ask. 

“Mom?” He hesitates, “yeah, she’s getting there. Sorry about this. I know the whole reason you did this was to make her happy. For me. I just didn’t expect--” He blows out a heavy breath and leans on the counter. “It’s hard when you get older and everyone you love starts to leave. Or change.” 

Your heart flickers. You try not to frown too deep, “I’m sorry, Clark.” You look back down at the bowl of soaking cranberries. You take your family for granted. The might be a little toxic but they’re there. 

“Not your fault. I just... I thought I had it figured out with Lois. Everyone was happy and my mom was ecstatic,” he clutches his hands together. You meet his eyes sheepishly. “I just wanted her to be that way again. And you’re so sweet and nice.” 

“Aw, Clark. Well, you know, I should thank you. At least I’m not alone on Christmas,” you try to pep yourself up. “Um, I gotta wait for these cranberries a little long. Could I use the bathroom?” 

“Right, er, it’s just down the hall,” he points towards the second doorway that interconnects with the same hallway that leads back to the stairs. 

“Thanks,” you wipe your hands on a dishcloth and leave him with a thin smile. 

As you flit out, your chest sinks. You think of everything you’ve said since you got there, how insensitive it must have seemed. And back in the car when you complained about your mom. Ugh, he must think you’re so ungrateful. 

You close yourself in the bathroom and tend to your business. You’d been holding it since he picked you up from your building. You wash your hands, pumping the soap bottle hard to dislodge a clog in the tube. You finally finish up but find the smell of mildew stuck to your hands from the towel. 

You come out of the bathroom and look up and down the hallway. You shift to see the framed picture a bit better. Those must be his parents, and little Clark. You can’t believe he was ever that small. 

There are other pictures across the table below. A cluster of frames; class photos, impromptu snaps of memories, and posed family shots. Beneath one, there’s a slip of paper. You try not to be intrusive but the fading font catches your eye. You lean in as you tilt the frame to see the full letter, the card bent and forgotten beneath. 

‘Our condolences. We were so sorry to hear of your mother’s passing. Please do let us anything we can do for you.’ The message is signed Mallory and Chuck. You blink in confusion. Maybe it’s an old card meant for his mother; for a grandparent. 

“She died last year,” Clark startles you so you whip up and nearly tip as you stand straight. “It’s my first Christmas without her,” he continues. “I’m sorry I lied but I didn’t want to be alone.” 

You shake your head. Confusion swells through your stomach and clouds your brain. The fog clears and your eyes wander up to the ceiling. 

“Your mom?” 

“I miss her,” his voice cracks. “She took care of me.” 

“Oh, well, yeah,” you quaver unevenly. You’re reeling. Why would he lie about that? And to get you here? You’re just coworkers. “That must be hard.” 

“Mhm,” he nods and pouts. As he comes closer, you tense, wavering with his steps. “You’re not mad at me?” 

Your lips part then close. The wind whistles outside and reminds you of how isolated this place is. Clark drove you here... 

“I’m just... wondering why you need to lie,” you eke out. 

“I know it’s wrong but... if I told the truth, you might say no.” 

You nod and as he reaches for you, you wince away. You hug yourself and push your shoulders up. You swallow, “Clark, what is the truth? Why am I here?” 

He tilts his head and his eyes drift to the side. The light fades in his pupils and his jaw clenches. His fingers twiddle by his leg. 

“To be with me,” he looks at you again and smiles. A smile shadowed sinisterly beneath the worn bulb above. “You’re alone too.” 

You stare at him. Terror floods your veins and paralyses you. You want to turn and run but you won’t get far. All you can do is bide your time and hope that you can find a chance and way to get out. But for now, with him so close, so much bigger, you have to pretend. That is exactly what he asked you to do, after all. 

[aurumalatus]

𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 [𝟑]

pairing. kinich x fem!reader

word count. 3.6k

genre/warnings. childhood friends to lovers, slow burn, fluff and angst, drabble collection, cursing, mentions of abuse/alcoholism, character death and graphic descriptions of death, mentions of vomit

summary.

in which kinich learns the value of all things: lives, friendship, and, of course, you. or, in which kinich realizes that you are the only priceless thing in this world.

author's note. this one is... a lot. take heed of the warnings/let me know if there's something i forgot to tag! i might've missed some errors because it's late so i will fix in the morning, otherwise please enjoy! reblogs/interaction highly appreciated!

↢ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ↣

𝗛𝗢𝗟𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗢𝗡 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗟𝗘𝗧𝗧𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗚𝗢

When the meadows grow full and lush, Kinich awaits your reappearance.

The winter had been long—with his crops iced over, he’d had to rely on hunting to survive. His mother’s absence had taken a heavy toll on his family (though he uses the word loosely), and his father somehow finds more time to drink his life away. Now the sole homemaker, Kinich finds himself as his father’s newfound punching bag as well.

He discovers that he has a talent for patching wounds and bruises.

Some days, the man awakens in the dead of night, freshly sober—Kinich can hear him crying his mother’s name in the dark. He doesn’t know whether to take that as regret, or simply loneliness.

They don’t talk. They never really did, but the silence grows quickly, curling and weaving and winding like vines through the house, until Kinich can feel it wrapping his throat shut. Days and weeks go by without him talking to anyone at all.

Still, he moves on.

The ice finally melts, and he welcomes the sight of animals returning from hibernation, despite how they nip at his garden. New life sprouts from the ground, and it’s only a matter of time before you appear in the forest again as well.

This time, you’re touting a burlap bag of Quenepa Berries, and you offer him one as he approaches.

“They’re sweeter at this time of year,” you comment, before popping one of the fruits into your mouth. He accepts and does the same—this batch is fattened and sweet, he thinks as the juice dribbles down his chin. You must have an eye for a good harvest.

“You came back,” is all he replies, as a greeting.

An incredulous expression crosses your face, almost judgmental—you hold the bag of berries away from him as teasing punishment. “You thought I wouldn’t?”

He reaches over you, quick as a fox, catching one of the fruits in his fingers. 

“Don’t know.”

There’s no way to tell you about his mother’s disappearance, at least not one that he’s confident about. After all, he feels there’s no logic in informing you anyway—there’s no solution that you could potentially offer, and it’s not as though it affects you. But it’s the thought of that, and the lasting image of her footsteps, that had instilled this fear within him.

The fear that you would never return.

But you’re here, he soothes himself, another berry in your outstretched palm. He takes it, just as your voice rings out again.

“So, do your parents not like girls?”

The skin of the fruit catches in his throat at your question, and he lets out a series of wet coughs—you pat his back, eyes wide with concern. It takes a few moments for him to return to his senses.

“What are you talking about?” he splutters, uncharacteristically flustered.

You don’t seem to notice, too absorbed in picking through your bag—you prefer the lightest blue berries, the ones that are still slightly unripe. Perhaps you enjoy the tartness they offer.

“I don’t know,” you reply. “It just seems like you don’t want your parents to see me.”

And there’s no easy way to explain his situation, so he doesn’t. Instead, he hums, watching the birds soar by overhead. His heart vaguely tugs with jealousy at the sight of them.

“It’s not that. My parents just…don’t like people hanging around our house. That’s why we moved out of the village.”

Not a total lie, he reasons—the financial issues were the root cause, but his father had also grown tired of neighbors attempting to intervene in his parents’ endless disputes. It had given him hope, for a time, that someone might be able to remedy the situation. 

But that hope was quickly snuffed out.

“Makes sense,” you say, tracing shapes in the dirt with your foot. You draw a heart, a smiley face, and then something that looks like a defective Yumkasaurus. “Your dad is the mean one, right?”

You’re still not quite educated on social faux-pas at your age, and Kinich almost chokes again.

“What?”

Something rustles in the bushes nearby—an animal scared away by the sudden loudness of his voice.

“He always used to yell at me when I’d come around to leave you things,” you explain, overwhelmingly casual. “Smelled like that stuff that us kids aren’t allowed to go near in the market.”

Kinich vaguely remembers hearing his parents argue about something like that, but all the fighting tends to blur together after a time. He’s not sure how to reply to that, or what you might think if he did.

So he doesn’t.

He asks you about your winter instead, a topic change that you welcome eagerly. You tell him about the village, the white-topped roofs and the way the Yumkasauri would redden and sneeze, whelps hiding in their mother’s wings. You tell him about how you tried ice skating on the frozen river, recounting how many times you fell flat on your face. The thought makes him smile faintly.

He’s almost surprised by how enthusiastic you are about it—you’d told him before about your parents’ death in the cold season. He wonders how you seem to move past it all.

You turn your attention back to him, curious. “What about you? What happened during your winter?”

There’s a lot he could say, but none of it feels right, every word sticking to his tongue, stubborn. 

“The winter felt really long,” he finally says, mostly to himself, chewing thoughtfully.

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye. “It did. But it’s not so bad, I think.”

He hums. “Really?”

You shrug. “Spring always comes again anyway.”

/

On Kinich’s seventh birthday, you knock at his door in the evening.

The November air is crisp, but not yet chilling. After all, the nation of Pyro tends to run warm until the very depths of winter. It’s for that reason that the fireplace still lies darkened and empty, and that the kitchen window is still open a crack.

The sound shocks him at first—it’s been a long time since anyone has visited at all, so much so that the dull thump is unfamiliar. Wilder animals tend to come out when the sun sets, so he tries to finish up his farming and hunting beforehand—at this time, he’s usually preparing some sort of meal for the next day.

He glances at the source of the noise, then at his father, slumped over the kitchen table, drool dripping from the corner of his mouth. The man will likely be asleep until the early morning anyway.

So Kinich pads to the door, pulling it open just a crack, and it’s your eye that peers back at him, curious.

Another inch, and then the rest of you is revealed to him—you’re holding a neatly wrapped box in your hands, an innocent smile spread across your lips.

His first words come out in a hiss.

“What are you doing here?”

He thinks he’s been quite clear about your need to return to the village by this time, for many reasons. It’s growing dark, a time where animals and humans alike grow more dangerous, and his father tends to be home. The man has a talent of putting Kinich in the worst moods, and he’d rather not spread that to you.

“It’s your birthday,” you greet, as an explanation, shrugging like it’s all so obvious. Kinich tilts his head.

“So?”

“So, we’re celebrating! I spent the whole day baking this cake with Chief Wayna’s help.”

Kinich steps outside, quietly letting the door shut behind him. The sunset sky is burning away at this time, pinks and reds fading into black and blue. The stars will be out soon. 

“It’s nighttime,” he says, crossing his arms.

You nod vigorously, undeterred. “Yup! All so you can see the candles better. It looks so much cooler when it’s dark.”

It’s a ridiculous statement to someone like him, and Kinich is once again reminded how different the two of you are. His sense of logic doesn’t seem to align with your enduring enthusiasm. Still, he likes the fire that you have about you, and has no interest in snuffing it out, so he merely sighs and leads you away from the front door.

Once you’re a bit away, the house still in view, he looks to you again.

“So, what is it about candles?”

Without a reply, you turn away from him, fiddling with various things—he hears a match being lit, sees the faint light reflect from behind you—and then you’re facing him again, proudly holding out the cake.

There’s seven brightly colored candles sticking out from the top. The candlelight illuminates your face with a soft glow, a cheeky smile spreading across your lips.

“It looks good, right?”

Kinich peers down at the treat—it does look good, with the expensive kind of frosting that he used to look at longingly in the market. He hasn’t had something this sweet, this luxurious, in a long time, or maybe ever. When he glances back up, you’re staring up at him expectantly—he shrinks back from the pressure.

“What is it?” he asks, feeling self-conscious. You point to the candles.

“You have to blow it out.”

Vaguely, he thinks back on when he used to live in the village. He’s seen people hold birthday parties before (though he can’t say he’d ever been invited), but he’s not sure he’s heard of this tradition. Birthday celebrations weren’t something his family could ever afford anyway, or maybe they just didn’t care to.

Kinich realizes he doesn’t even know when his parents’ birthdays are.

But you’re still watching him, so he pushes that thought aside. Instead, he leans over and gently blows out the candles in three small puffs of breath.

“It’s fun, isn’t it?” You cheer, tilting the cake toward him. “I hope you made a wish!”

You’d forgotten to mention that before he blew out the candles, he thinks to himself, but he’s in no position to argue with your good will anyway. So he nods, silently making a wish after the fact.

“Alright, the best part is eating it,” you whisper conspiratorially, like you’re sharing a life-shattering secret. “And Elder Leik says it’s bad to have sugar before bed, but I think it’s okay just this once—”

“Kinich!”

That voice—

His heart freezes in his chest. Your face morphs in confusion, and then he’s grasping at your arm and yanking, hiding you behind him—you’re not much smaller than him, though, so it’s a futile effort. At the force, the cake slips out of your grip, smashing uselessly into the grass.

Kinich has half a mind to apologize, but he can’t—instead, he holds you tighter.

“Kinich?” A hoarse voice echoes in the dark. “Where the hell are you?” 

“I’m here. I was just taking a walk,” he replies. His voice shakes at the edges of each syllable—he hopes his father doesn’t notice. 

Something crunches in the distance; it’s the sound of grass underfoot. His father is coming this way, Kinich realizes in a panic. He glances back to your fearful eyes, clutching at the back of his thin t-shirt, and his chest burns with the desire to protect.

It’s too dim to see the man until he’s a few feet in front of you—he’s dressed in a tattered shirt and loose pants, feet dragging through the grass. His eyes narrow when he gets close enough, brows knitting together.

His gaze zeroes in on you, venomous. “It’s you again.”

The collar of Kinich’s shirt grows taut against his throat as you pull against him, afraid. He squeezes at your arm once, a comfort.

“You damn orphans, got nothing better to do? Just fucking around on my property, I should throw you off this goddamn cliff! Not like you got anyone to miss you.”

Kinich grits his teeth. “Leave her alone.”

His father laughs, a grating sound like nails on a chalkboard, then belches. The smell of cheap alcohol filters through the air, even from a distance.

“Go do something useful then. Too many useless people in this world, ha! Just like your damn mother.”

The mention makes the blood ice over in Kinich’s veins, a sharp frost crawling up his spine. Your grip loosens just a hair, likely in confusion, but the detail barely reaches his mind.

“You know where she is?”

The image of his mother’s footsteps in the newly fallen snow had never left his mind—he sees it in his nightmares, trapped and crawling in an endless frozen landscape, alone. He thinks of her when he farms, when he weaves, when he’s forced to eat another Grainfruit.

He thinks of her always, maybe, in the back of his mind.

And his father does too, maybe, based on the way his whole body seems to tighten with anger at the question. He doesn’t reply, at least not verbally.

You watch, horrified. Even as his father’s eyes glow with rage, even as he drunkenly hobbles toward you both, hands outstretched.

(Kinich blankly notes that they form the shape of his own neck.)

The man isn’t too coordinated, especially with the alcohol coursing through his veins—he stumbles a few times on the way, the grass seeming to curl around his ankles, slowing him down. Perhaps it’s the land’s way of protecting him, Kinich thinks. 

He grabs your hand, pulling you behind him. “Come on!”

Kinich runs, wind whipping at his face, the way he always does when his father gets this way. He takes you through the backyard, toward the forest, where his father might lose sight of you both and give up the chase. He knows the paths there and knows them well—the shadows of the trees will protect you both.

But the man is picking up speed behind you, roaring about what he’ll do once he catches you.

“Kinich,” you wheeze. You’d already been semi-exhausted by your trek here, and certainly not expecting a sprint like this.

“I know,” he pants back. “Just a little more.”

You’re trying your hardest, he knows.

But he’s faster than you, and you stumble, lagging behind.

“Kinich!”

His father lunges, fingers barely grasping at the leg of your pants. A shriek erupts from your throat as you tumble to the ground in a twisted pile, and Kinich cries out with you, just as the cliff seems to rumble beneath his feet. 

It happens in slow motion. 

Kinich’s father meets his son’s gaze, enraged, then afraid. Terrified, just as he feels his legs dangle over the edge of the cliff, just as the weight of your smaller body pushes his torso over. Shocked, just as the rest of you starts to come down with him. 

Your screams echo off the darkened mountain. 

Kinich weighs his options—it doesn’t take long—and then leaps forward. His chest smacks painfully into the dirt, but he manages to grab your wrist just as you slip down the cliff.

“Kinich!” 

His father is screaming his name, and so are you, pleading, begging for his help. And you’re still in his grasp, but you’re slipping, and his father is reaching for him, and if he could just grab him with his other hand, he could maybe pull you both up, but—

Kinich’s gaze meets your tear-filled eyes.

So he grits his teeth, clawing at the dirt, and with his other hand, he grabs—

You.

He doesn’t have time to catch his father’s expression—he doesn’t think he’d want to see it anyway—before he’s hauling you up, yanking you into his arms until you’re both collapsing into the grass. The crown of your skull clashes with his chin harshly.

His father is still bellowing curses, not that you seem to hear it over the sound of your screams and cries. But Kinich hears it, somehow, floating above the chaos and agony in your voice.

“It’s your fucking fault! This is all your fault!”

His eyes flutter shut as the voice fades away, and then grows silent.

It’s too quiet.

Even the crickets seem to censor themselves, hiding from the entire ordeal. Kinich releases his hold on you, rolling onto his stomach, then onto his knees. The grass seems to waver under his stare, rippling and oscillating until it feels like the entire world is quivering beneath him.

He barely registers that you’re struggling to pull yourself upright behind him.

You turn away from Kinich’s hunched form to vomit in the grass, overwhelmed by it all. A corpse lies at the foot of the cliff now, one that could’ve just as easily been you. One that might have actually been your fault. The thought makes you vomit again. 

After a few more dry heaves, Kinich’s hand rubs at your back, the other gently easing your hair away from your mouth. You look over your shoulder at him, eyes filled with tears and nose dripping with snot. 

“Kinich,” you sob, trying to catch your breath. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I was too slow, and he—he fell. I didn’t mean it. I’m so sorry. I know he wasn’t—I don’t—but that was your—your father—”

He takes you by the shoulders, forcing you to look at him—really look at him. His expression seems the same as always, but you know the difference. You note the quivering at the edge of his lips, the light sheen at the corners of his eyes. It disappears as quickly as you notice it, flattening under a disposition of stone.

“I weighed the value between you,” he says, gaze meeting your glassy stare. Your heart flutters. “And I chose you.”

And for a bit, you pretend that you can’t hear the thick lump in his throat, or the way his nose scrunches to keep the tears from slipping. Instead, you take his hand, struggling to your feet.

Kinich gives you a once-over—your pant leg is tattered now, a long strip of fabric ripped from the bottom. A flash of crimson peeks from under the remaining cloth.

Thin lines of blood bloom over the joint there, slowly running down the length of your leg.

“You’re bleeding,” he rasps, assessing the extent of your wound. It’s not deep—a skinned knee at most, which he’s grateful for. He’s treated much worse on his own body.

There’s so much to do, he thinks, pushing through the foggy haze permeating his mind. He has to retrieve his father’s body. He has to treat your wound. With his father gone, he needs to make a plan for his own survival.

It’s not as if his father ever really helped out anyway, but the thought of being truly, totally alone is harrowing. It takes another minute for him to remember that you’re still standing at his side.

“Go back to the house,” he mumbles, almost to himself. “Wait for me in the kitchen—”

“No!” You blurt, looking surprised despite yourself. Kinich jolts, meeting your eyes. “You’re going to get his body, right?”

After a moment of hesitation, he nods solemnly.

Kinich has looked down these cliffs many times; he knows the sheer height of them. There’s absolutely no chance that his father’s body is in any sort of good shape at the bottom. The thought makes bile rise in his throat.

You swallow. “So let’s go.”

The fear is reflected in the way your hands shake, but your shoulders straighten and you reach for him, slotting your fingers together. It’s the most bravery that you can manage, at least right now. Kinich accepts it gratefully.

Making your way down the cliff is treacherous with the little light you have. You don’t speak, barely even breathe. The stars lay watchful above, winking and illuminating your way. 

Even with your hand in his, Kinich glances back occasionally, ensuring you’re still with him—you always are, still sniffling and scrubbing at your eyes. 

It’s hard for you, and it’s obvious; he has to catch you several times when your foot slips off the stone, but you’re still with him. You’re still with him, he thinks. Kinich repeats it to himself a few times, letting it anchor him as he struggles down the rocks.

His father’s body is stiff by the time you reach it.

You’re too afraid to look at first, meekly standing behind him. It takes a few minutes before you work up the courage to peek over his shoulder, one hand over your mouth. Kinich isn’t sure whether to pray, or cry, or leave it all behind—for a few minutes, he doesn’t do anything at all.

The body is mangled, as he’d expected. You don’t dare to look at it again; you pace about the area, trying to keep your wits about you. 

Everything about it is too familiar. He sees himself in the corpse, the blond hair fanned around the head like a halo, the golden eyes forever stuck in a faraway stare. The grappling hook that he always kept on his person.

His father. A half of him. His flesh and blood.

And he’d let him go.

Kinich feels for his own heartbeat over his shirt, fisting at the cloth there.

You are still alive, it whispers.

So he calls your name, soft. You peek at him through the darkness.

“We have to bring it back,” he murmurs.

And you, despite it all, despite the terror that licks hot up your neck, simply nod.

“Okay.”

As the two of you drag the corpse back toward the house, fingertips sticky with blood that freezes in the passing wind, Kinich realizes it—

This is the coldest November he’s ever experienced.

[luvnami]

he's your ex for a reason

author's note ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ i like suna a lil nasty | kinktober 2024 mlist content warnings ₊˚⊹ cheating (reader on current bf), throat fucking, unprotected sex, creampie, petnames, low dubcon, nosebleed, idk how to tag this but he uses your phone without you knowing, toxic!suna, x fem! reader, ageless/minors dni (18+), 1.3k+ words

“just one night, baby. please?”

you should’ve kept his number blocked. when your ex’s cock is shoved down your throat and you’re gagging on his precum and spit, however, it tends to complicate things. 

suna groans as he thrusts into your mouth. he keeps one hand behind your head, preventing you from bumping into the wall (admittedly, it’s a little romantic). your eyes are glassy with tears and your throat burns. his heavy balls smack your chin as he grinds his pelvic bone against your face with a drawn-out moan, your nose buried in his curls.

“fuck. i forgot how good you feel,” he breathes.

you wish suna didn’t know the right words to make your pussy sopping wet. your current boyfriend is… tame, to say the least. he fancies a vanilla night in bed – not that it’s wrong. it’s just that when you compare him to suna, sometimes you miss having rough, brain-melting sex. the stars have somehow aligned in a way that has you fucking your ex, while your current boyfriend's out of town for business.

“hey, hey. eyes up here, pretty.” suna slaps your cheek lightly to draw your attention back to him. 

your half-lidded eyes focus back on his face, mascara and eyeliner smeared beyond recognition. the blood rushes to his already hard dick. 

he wants to cum down your throat, decorate your tits with his seed, and give you back shots, but what suna really wants most is to creampie your tight cunt. the thought of someone else's girlfriend creaming on his cock has his head dizzy.

suna pulls you off of him and you whine quietly. he softens his gaze, briefly remembering when he could call you his. 

the moment doesn’t last long. he drags you over to the bed, kissing you roughly and nipping at the soft skin below your jawline. 

“r-rin,” you gasp. his heart swells. “no marks.” 

he fights back the grumble that rises in his throat. instead, he hums noncommittally, helping you lie on your back. he pushes your knees into your chest.

the sight of your glistening pussy nearly makes him cum there and then. using his cock, he slaps your slit twice and grins when you cry out and arch your back. 

“rin!” you squirm, rubbing your slick all over the bottom of his dick as you urge him to just fuck you already. 

“what? use your words,” suna teases.

you bite on your swollen lip. 

“stop being a fucking brat and fuck- oh!” your sharp words turn into a lewd moan as suna pushes his entire length into you. without any prior prep, you’re exceptionally tight, and the delicious stretch makes your eyes roll back into your head. 

“shit,” suna pants. he uses one hand to spread your left thigh, fingers digging into your flesh, the other planted in the bed next to your head to keep himself upright. “knew this was the best pussy ever. fuckin’ missed it.”

you keen. “rin, please!”

you don’t need to ask twice. suna starts off at a hellish pace, thrusting into you hard and fast. your tits bounce as he uses you like a fuckdoll.

the sound of skin on skin fills the room, your broken cries of pleasure muffled by the hand that you throw over your mouth. god, when was the last time you were fucked like this? fat tears spill down your temples as your pussy swells and clenches around suna.

framed by the dim ceiling light, he’s still as handsome as ever. he’s filled out a bit more since the last time you saw him. broad shoulders, defined chest, all for you to cling onto. a bead of sweat drips down his chin and lands on your chest. has he always been this good-looking?

suna gives you a boyish smirk. “enjoyin’ yourself?” 

you can only nod. each thrust forces the blunt head of his cock into your g-spot. your mouth lolls open as you chant suna’s name like some sort of mantra, fingers scrabbling for purchase on his straining biceps. 

he leans back on his heels so that he can use one hand to rub your clit. electricity shoots down your spine when his thumb makes contact with your sensitive nub, rolling it with practised movements. 

“mmph- rin!”

your hand flies from your mouth to grasp his wrist, your hips bucking into the air. you’re so, so close. suna knows it too. 

“that’s it, baby. whose cock makes you feel this good?”

fresh tears fill your eyes. your pussy spasms, on the cusp of your orgasm.

“yours, yours! fuck, rin- feels so good, please, rin, rin! rin!”

you practically sob as you squirt all over suna, his thrusts never giving up as he pounds into your poor pussy like there’s no tomorrow. he swears and folds you in half as you near the end of your orgasm. 

“fucking- fuck, missed you so much, baby. missed this pretty pussy,” he babbles, leaning his weight into the back of your thighs. 

you sniffle and let suna kiss you, teeth meeting teeth and saliva dripping messily between your lips as he aims for your g-spot. you freeze up. 

“no, not there, please- no, too much, too-”

you cum, again. your head rolls back, exposing the column of your throat. suna chuckles as he drives his dick into your cunt the way he knows how. it’s just like how he remembered – the memory of knowing how to pleasure you and make you addicted to him? it’s too easy, really. 

something stirs within him. he furrows his brow when he feels warmth bloom in his nose and the touch of something wet on his cupid's bow. he swipes at it with his thumb, looking at the smear of red on his skin. 

fuck. this really was the best pussy he’d ever had. suna lets out a strained chuckle, running his tongue over his lips where the blood continues to trickle down. he tastes iron and salt. 

“gonna cum, pretty girl. where do you want it?” his breath is hot against your skin. 

you can barely keep a coherent train of thought. your limbs feel like jelly, and your lungs are struggling to keep up. each orgasm hits you like a train whenever suna thrusts into that spongy spot just right. spit rolls down the corner of your open mouth. 

“can i cum inside? please, i’ll make you feel so good. promise, princess.”

you can’t muster yourself to say no. how many times have you cum? four? five? the only thought in your empty brain is how good suna feels. you let out a broken gasp that he takes as a ‘yes’.

he cums inside of you with your pussy fluttering around him. 

suna groans, his voice deep and throaty as he grinds his hips against the back of your thighs. his body shudders, squeezing each last drop of cum into your receiving womb. he kisses your ankle, then your calf, trailing them lightly down your body till he arrives at your face. 

your head spins and your eyes threaten to close on their own.

“thank you, thank you. you felt so good, baby. you did so well,” he whispers, one hand wiping your tears away.

you think you feel him pull out and shuffle to the bathroom. your vision fades to nothing. 

suna returns from the bathroom with a damp hand towel. he’s not surprised you’ve fallen asleep, but he frowns because it’s going to be a lot harder to clean you up like this. with a sigh, he moves over to the bed.

your phone lights up on the nightstand. it catches suna’s eye. he checks one more time to make sure your eyes are closed, then double taps your phone screen to wake it again. it’s a message from your boyfriend. suna freezes. 

9.05pm >> i’m heading back to my hotel now. wanna call? miss you :) 

he contemplates deleting the message, but your password screen prevents him from doing anything besides reading the message’s preview. suna sits down on the edge of the bed. you stir slightly, but don’t wake up. 

he presses your thumb to the touch screen and the phone unlocks. it looks like he has some time till you wake up, so suna might as well make good use of it.

[jellysmosh]

I’ve Met Someone That Makes Me Feel Seasick

Summary: Why was it that every single time you saw your cute new neighbour you absolutely embarrassed yourself? Vaguely inspired by the song Kill the Director by The Wombats.

Pairing: Spencer Agnew x GN!Reader

Tags: Fluff, neighbours, silly rom-com vibes

Word count: 4.9k

Note: Hi! I haven’t written fanfic for years and this is my first time writing something for Smosh, so please be gentle with me lol. Please enjoy and let me know what you think!

☆

You were a retired hopeless romantic.

You were no longer big on romance. It wasn’t that you weren’t interested in potentially dating in the future, you just were not really keen to date right now. For the past few years you’d gone through your fair share of weird talking stages and situationships that kept leaving you more drained and emptier than the last. Unfortunately, the single men in the current dating pool brought you nothing but disappointment with a side of psychological trauma.

It was after you broke things off with your last partner/situation/ball and chain that you decided that maybe a celibacy oath was the way to go. Not only did you catch him texting other girls on Instagram, they weren’t even replying to his desperate messages. Somehow the failed attempt to cheat was more disgusting to you than the actual act of cheating. The optimistic side of you chose to push through and sail past the red flags only to find this guy was just as awful as your friends predicted. That was your problem for most of your life: you were full of hope and second chances and unconditional love (which is dangerous without the critical thinking skills to go with it).

But no more! You have had enough of men stepping all over you. You were tired of being used for your love and attention and emotional support, and if that meant you were going to be single for the rest of your life, so be it! That beats spending it with some guy working in finance whose opening line on Tinder was ‘you tryna send pics or nah?’ Your single era started now.

☆

Anti-Romance Day 30 was looking good until it wasn’t.

It was a rainy Saturday with no plans, which meant staying holed up in your apartment and watching movies in your pyjamas. Against your better judgment, you selected a romantic comedy, carefully opening a bag of popcorn fresh out of the microwave as How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days started up on your television.

By the end of the film, you were choking on tears at the thought of your failed love life as Kate Hudson and Matthew McConaughey made out on screen. This was a mistake, nothing made you yearn for romantic company more than a sappy movie. You wanted to dramatically curse at the universe for making real life dating such a complete hellscape.

Was it even the men who were the problem here? What if you were just undateable? What if you were such an awful potential partner that you only attracted the weirdo freaks and all the good ones hit skip?

You shook your head to clear it.

There was no point thinking like that when you knew it wasn’t true. You were attentive and loving and communicated very well, all the ideal components of the perfect partner. Your cooking was… questionable, but you gave great hugs!

Your thoughts were interrupted by your phone ringing.

It was your UberEats delivery man and he was pissed. Apparently the instructions you sent him to get to your apartment were too hard to understand, and you had to go down and meet him or he was going to drive away with your KFC family meal (don’t judge). In fear of losing your money and fried chicken, you practically flew out your apartment to retrieve your food from the lobby. Walking from the elevator back to your apartment, you make an earth shattering realisation, you forgot to grab your front door key before going to get your food.

A few things about this situation: your key fob to access the building and elevator were on your car keys (currently in hand), and your front door key was strapped to your bag (currently inside the apartment). Also, your apartment door was one of those heavy duty ones that automatically locked from the outside. To summarise: you were fucked.

“Shit!” You practically shouted, tightening your grip on the paper KFC bag, “fuuuck!”

“Uh, are you okay?”

You jumped in surprise. In all the chaos, you didn’t even notice that the door to the apartment next to yours was propped open and a man stood just inside the doorway, staring at you. He was holding a cardboard box with both hands, brown curls peeking out from under a baseball cap, wireframe glasses sitting in front of deep green eyes, and a confused expression on his face. He was so cute.

“Who are you?” You blurted out without thinking, your cheeks immediately flushing, “sorry, I mean- I thought Old Mr Chan lived here.”

“Oh, he moved out”, the stranger replied. He turned to place the box down on a nearby table before stepping out of the apartment. “My name is Spencer, I’m moving in today”, he held his hand out and you tentatively shook it with your free hand.

“I’m Y/N. Sorry about earlier”, you sighed, of course the first time you met your new neighbour was at a time like this. You were hyper aware of the fact that he probably watched you stand in the hallway cursing at your door while holding a giant KFC bag, hair greasy, in your Hello Kitty print pyjama pants, eyes obviously red from your little crying session a few minutes ago.

“No worries”, he smiled, oh god, his smile was beautiful. “I’m assuming you’re my neighbour?” He glanced at your asshole of a front door. “Why were you swearing at it?”

You sank even deeper into your embarrassment as you explained the situation to him. Talk about first impressions.

“Oh!” An idea popped into your head and Spencer looked at you expectantly. “What if I go through your apartment onto your fire escape and then like shimmy across to my window along the ledge-“

“What?” He exclaimed, eyebrows raised, “are you crazy? No way, that’s so dangerous. And are you sure your window’s unlocked?”

You paused.

“Yeah, you’re right… Do I really need to call a locksmith?” You scrunched up your nose. You could feel Spencer still looking at you and it made you extra self conscious. You knew you looked insane right now.

He hummed in thought. “The building manager was meant to come by in a bit to drop some stuff off for me, maybe you can ask him to help you out when he comes?”

You perked up a little, “yes! Sounds good!” You smiled at him despite yourself. You may have given a terrible first impression to your new neighbour, but at least you would probably get back inside your apartment today.

After some only slightly awkward small talk with Spencer, the building manager arrived and after explaining the whole mess, shot you a disappointed look and went to retrieve the spare key to your apartment.

“You’re a lifesaver”, you gushed to the building manager, offering him a now cold chicken tender which he rejected before grumpily entering the elevator. You were just happy your front door was now open, merrily sliding inside, you called out, “welcome to the building, Spencer!”

For a second, the sweet smile he showed you in response made you forget that you looked a mess and was just having an emotional breakdown. Your cheeks turned red as the door clicked shut.

☆

“Coming!” You yelled out, abandoning the dishes you were washing and jogging over to your front door after hearing the doorbell ring. You checked the peephole only to find Spencer standing there, hands in pockets, waiting.

You gulped. The situation where you were locked out with a big bag of fried chicken had happened a couple weeks ago and you hadn’t really spoken to Spencer since. You saw him only a couple times in the hall and you did not exchange much besides quiet ‘hello’s and nods of acknowledgment. You took a deep breath and swung the door open.

“Spencer! Hi!” You tried to smile like a normal person. “What’s up?”

“Hey, Y/N”, he looked at you with those pretty eyes and you silently thanked god you weren’t dressed in pyjamas this time. “Sorry to randomly pop over like this.”

“It’s fine”, you waved your hand, pretending to be nonchalant, “what can I help you with?”

“I’m totally being a bother but could I please borrow a couple eggs?” He sheepishly grinned, slightly rocking back and forth on his feet as if he was embarrassed this time, “I’m in the middle of cooking something and I didn’t realise I was out.”

“Sure”, you opened the door wider for him, “come in, I’ll go grab them for you.”

Now was it wise to let an almost stranger into your apartment? No. Was it neighbourly though? Kind of!

He thanked you before following you into your apartment. He even left his shoes at the door upon noticing all your shoes sitting on racks right next to it. You were flattered by his observance, it had been a while since a man with any kind of consideration of your habits and taste had been in your residence.

You led him to the kitchen.

“I’m certain I have some in the fridge”, you said over your shoulder, “I get through them pretty slowly.”

“Your place is really nice”, he complimented you while walking through the kitchen doorway. You glanced over at the mismatched chairs at your dining table and the clock on the wall painted to look like a pizza. You couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not. 

“Thanks…”, you murmured tentatively, “I don’t often hear that honestly-“

Your sentence got cut off when you slipped on the small puddle under your shitty kitchen sink left from when you were doing the dishes. You were midair just for a half second before landing on your butt.

“Oh my god”, Spencer rushed over to you, “are you alright?”

You groaned at the literal pain in your ass.

“Yep”, you choked out as if your tailbone wasn’t killing you, “just a little trip, I’m all good.”

He helped you up anyway, hands steady but touch soft. You felt yourself blushing at the contact, suddenly realising this was the first time he had touched you since your initial handshake. Once you were upright again, you turned your head toward him and felt your heart jump at how close he was to you. If you wanted to, you could have counted his eyelashes. You immediately broke eye contact and sped over to the fridge, this time making sure to step around the water on the floor.

“U-um, just two eggs, was it?” You shoved your face into your fridge, both checking how many eggs were in the carton and hoping the cold air would cool your face down.

You heard Spencer clear his throat after a pause, “yeah, yeah, just two.”

You handed him the eggs as he replied with a soft ‘thanks’, and on his way out he seemed to hesitate. Stopping halfway out the door, he turned to face you.

“Not that I was, like, purposely looking or anything”, he said quietly, eyes not meeting yours, “but I think when you slipped, you landed in the puddle because there’s a wet patch on the- uh… back of your jeans.”

You blankly stared at him.

“Just thought I should let you know before you sit down and make your couch wet or something”, he finally looked you in the eye again and he also seemed to flush when he saw your clear embarrassment.

“Thanks for letting me know”, your voice came out almost like a squeak. He nodded as he thanked you again for the eggs and scurried off back to his apartment next door.

Once your door shut again, you felt the back of your pants. Yup, your entire ass was wet.

Look on the bright side, you thought to yourself as you unzipped them so they could dry off of your body, at least he knew it was water and you didn’t have to convince him you didn’t pee your pants. You dryly chuckled to yourself as you stood in your underwear, hanging your jeans on a clothes rack.

No romance, you thought to yourself, don’t even let yourself think about it.

☆

“I really don’t know if we can fix it”, Spencer furrowed his brow. He was bent down next to you as your hands fumbled around the pipes under his sink with one hand and a wrench clasped in the other.

You two had been speaking to each other more since he saw you with a big wet patch on your ass. You had exchanged numbers in the elevator a few days after, Spencer claimed it was in case you got locked out again or he needed more eggs. Brief text conversations every now and then gave way to livelier elevator conversations and amicable chats in the hallway. You would consider him an almost-friend at this point and you were glad you were getting along well with him, despite you embarrassing yourself seemingly every single time you interacted.

And here you were, knelt down in his kitchen after texting back and forth about his sink no longer working.

“Have some faith”, you murmured, preoccupied with fiddling with a valve you located on the side of a pipe.

“Do you know anything about plumbing?” He asked incredulously, running a hand through his unruly hair. It was late Sunday morning, and he had clearly not styled it. Your heart rate had picked up when you saw him, in his sweatpants and messy bed head, it felt so intimate to see him not done up and ready to leave his house. You had ignored the thumping in your chest and followed him to the kitchen.

“Well… no”, you leaned back, grinning at him. That earned a loud laugh from him that caught you a bit off guard. Even his laugh was cute, that was so unfair. “But I think we can D.I.Y this, maybe we should check YouTube?” You stood up to grab your phone off the counter and he laughed again.

“You want to check YouTube?” His tone indicated he didn’t seem to take your suggestion seriously.

“What?” You were playfully defensive, “I go there for all kinds of tutorials, it’s great. I love YouTube!”

He got up to stand next to you, watching over your shoulder as you opened the app.

“Yeah, me too”, he muttered, “I kinda work there.”

“What?” You looked away from your screen to address him. He was closer than you realised, head hovering over your shoulder. You willed your heartbeat to slow down lest he heard it. “I didn’t know you worked at YouTube.”

“Well, not at YouTube. I work for a YouTube channel”, he pointed at your phone, “don’t worry about that right now, I’ll tell you about it later. Try finding something that will help us fix my sink please.”

He said he was going to tell you about it later. He wanted to talk to you later. You felt like you could float out the window and fly away. You pushed the feeling down and made sure your feet were solidly planted on the floor.

“Oh right”, you locked back in, searching for a video that looked helpful. After skimming through a few, you had a bit of an idea. “Okay, let’s try checking that thingy pipe and if that doesn’t work, we might need to do more research.”

“So technical”, Spencer replied, bemused. His eyes sparkled when he smiled.

“Well, if this fails, you can come over and use my kitchen while it gets fixed”, you tried your best to keep your tone level, as if the image of Spencer cooking in your kitchen didn’t make you giddy with excitement. “My sink works perfectly fine.”

“Yeah, I know”, Spencer laughed, referring to the last time he was there.

You looked away from him, flustered. You swung your wrench around a bit and headed back to the sink before he could notice. He watched as you bent down. You decided you probably needed to get as low as possible to find the pipe they were talking about in the video. You squatted down as deep as you could go and froze. A loud ripping noise stopped you in your tracks.

“Uh oh”, Spencer chimed from behind you and you didn’t dare to turn around to see his expression.

You closed your eyes. This couldn’t be happening. You were so sure today was going to go well, you had visions of hanging out with him and him being so impressed you could fix his sink. It was meant to be the start of your redemption arc. Well, it looked like things had headed in the opposite direction because you had just fucking ripped your pants like a cartoon character.

“There’s no way”, you whispered in disbelief, “there is absolutely no way that just happened.”

You slowly stood and turned to see Spencer leaning against the opposite counter, eyes on the ceiling.

“Oh, it definitely did”, he was so clearly trying to hold in his laughter. “I’m not looking so you can preserve your modesty.”

Your face was beet red, feeling the backside of the pair of old jeans that had failed you twice in the span of a couple weeks.

“Shit, did you see my underwear?”

“I don’t want to lie to you…”

“Spencer!”

“I’m sorry!” He put his hands up in surrender, failing to hold in his giggles now, “I didn’t mean to! How was I supposed to know you were planning on splitting your pants on my kitchen floor?”

You groaned in frustration, hands covering your crotch. He looked back down at you, hands still in the air. You stared at each other before you both burst into laughter. As embarrassed as you were, the situation was far too funny for you to take it seriously. You were both doubled over with tears in your eyes.

“You took playing plumber too literally”, he gasped out, “you showed crack and everything.”

“No, I did not!” You shouted, tears of laughter spilling down your face.

Once the hysteria passed, Spencer lent you a sweater to tie around your waist in case somebody in the hall saw you with your pants crotch split open.

“You should probably call the building manager”, you said to him as he walked you to his door, “I fear I’m not cut out to be a handyman.”

“Yeah, not really,” he said bluntly, but the smile on his face was wide.

“I’ll give your sweater back later today”, you stood just outside his door, he leaned against the doorframe.

“It’s okay, you can hold onto it for a while”, he replied. The softness in his voice made your stomach turn in a way that was both pleasant and upsetting. “I have to head out later and run some errands so I won’t be here.”

You had this urge to ask to hang out with him a little longer, to ask if you could come with him to run his errands, to prolong the time you spent with him as much as you could. He had this gravitational pull that made you want to stay in his orbit. But you knew that feeling well and it had gotten you tangled up in too many messes for you to count. You steadied your emotions again.

“No problem”, you shrugged, like it meant nothing to you that you had his sweater on you. “Thanks again!”

You waved as you side-stepped over to your own apartment. He lingered in the doorway for a little longer, watching you unlock your door. You could feel his eyes on you, you wondered if he was staring because you looked good or completely ridiculous. You glanced at him one more time before entering your apartment. He looked like he wanted to say something more but crossed his arms and smiled instead.

“See you, Y/N.”

“Bye, Spencer.”

☆

Texting Spencer slowly became part of your everyday routine. It was one of the highlights of your day - random thoughts, memes, both of you complaining about stuff happening at work. He had taken up a comfortable spot in your mind and he didn't show any signs of leaving soon. You had begun to value him so much as a friend, you tried your hardest to ignore any kind of romantic attraction you felt for him.

Like you had decided before, you were taking a break from romance anyway. He had become such a good friend to you that you were focussing more on getting close to him platonically.

You felt like you could tell him anything. You had both opened up to each other over the past weeks. He had told you all about his work at Smosh, the pressure he felt that kept him up at night sometimes, but also the absolute blast he had working with the people he loved so much. You had told him about your terrible luck for your entire dating history and the conclusion you came to recently that being single for the rest of your life was on the table, but at the same time, the tumultuous nature of your love life had brought your close friends even closer. You had shared these moments with him where you felt like time was standing still, smiling at your phone in the dark while in bed, hushed conversations in the hallway walking from the elevator to your doors, smiling tiredly at each other in the lobby before work on a Monday morning.

You loved spending time with him, whether it was 30 minutes or 30 seconds. But sometimes his cute smile made you feel like you couldn’t breathe, his charming sense of humour made you feel like you were being knocked off your feet, and when those beautiful eyes gazed at you with all his attention, it made you feel positively seasick.

Shit.

☆

You had a day off work and you spent it doing a bit of shopping (you needed new jeans) and got home in the afternoon to a few texts from Spencer. He was going to get back to his place in about half an hour and asked if you wanted to have dinner together. This was not anything new, a huge perk of becoming good friends with your neighbour is that you got to hang out whenever you wanted.

‘Sure thing’, you texted back, ‘bring some takeaway and you can choose the movie.’

‘Deal.’

Less than an hour later, you heard your doorbell chime and then he was handing you a bag of food from Homestate while kicking off his boots. It just felt so easy, letting him into your space, making you belly laugh with a story about Angela from work. You bet he knew it too, how much you loved his presence, he had that twinkle in his eye whenever you gave him attention, with that cheeky smile, how could you look away?

“I can’t believe you haven’t seen Alien”, Spencer sat back on the couch after hitting play on the movie.

You shrugged next to him, “it’s not that I don’t watch horror movies, I just never got around to it.”

“Well, prepare to get your mind blown”, he turned to stare at you like this was life or death.

You laughed. “God, you’re corny.”

“Yeah, yeah, you love it.”

You didn’t bother replying to him, rolling your eyes playfully, you began to dig into your food while the movie started. With your head down, you hoped he didn’t notice you still blushed like an idiot when he spoke to you like that.

It was really good, hell, it was probably a great movie. The problem was you kept getting distracted. Finished food abandoned on the coffee table, you kept glancing over at the man comfortably laid back next to you like he belonged there. You were sitting tight together, arms touching. You resisted the urge to cuddle him, you were friends for sure but you didn’t want to cross a boundary that he might not be comfortable with. Anyway, if you guys did cuddle, he would definitely feel how fast your heart was beating. Even now, with your upper arms pressed against one another and your knees occasionally knocking together, it felt like a million tiny electric zaps every time you made contact.

Spencer loved movies, he was a movie guy, and you loved that he was a movie guy. You loved the way he lit up talking about them, his eyes glued to the screen and reacting to everything that happened like it was personally happening to him. He really felt the films he liked, he was open-minded and enjoyed being immersed in them. You couldn’t help being attracted to his passion and excitement, and watching every microexpression on his face instead of the movie itself. It was alright though, because he would always answer your questions when you got confused.

“You’re so patient with me”, you grinned absentmindedly, trying to focus on Sigourney Weaver running through the spaceship. When you realised what you said, you tried to play it off, “like, as in, you never get mad at me for getting confused.” You attempted to laugh in a light, casual way, it came out sort of hollow sounding though.

Yeah… playing it real cool, you thought to yourself sarcastically. You forced yourself not to look at him but you could feel his gaze on you.

“Of course”, his voice was so soft, you almost missed it. Your will broke down immediately and you turned to him. You didn’t think you had ever seen that expression on his face, it was gentle and open, ignoring the movie for once. You felt your breath leave your lungs, like your chest was about to collapse and you were going to throw up.

“Thank you”, you murmured, not knowing what else to say. “For being so… good to me.”

What the fuck were you saying? Oh my god, oh my god, shut up-

“I can’t imagine ever not being good to you”, he mumbled back, “and I’m not that patient.”

Your heart was in your throat, your heartbeat was so loud in your ears, you couldn’t hear the yelling from the television. You slowly pressed the pause button and tossed the remote aside without looking away from him.

“What do you mean?”

“Something about you makes me so impatient”, he was whispering now and you felt yourself being drawn closer like a magnet. “Sometimes”, he swallowed thickly, “I think about you and I lose all my chill. I just want to stop what I’m doing and see you.”

Seeing him like this, cheeks slowly reddening and eyes wide and vulnerable, it felt more intimate than sex.

“S-sorry”, he stuttered out.

“No”, you rushed, your hand instinctively grabbing his forearm and he jumped like you had just shocked him. You slowly realised that while you had been trying to ignore your attraction to Spencer, he may have been doing the exact same thing. “I feel the same way”, you said breathlessly, “I think about you every single day.”

“Me too, every day”, he nodded in agreement, “it’s been hard to not think about you all the time ever since I saw you sprint down the hall in your Hello Kitty print pyjamas.” You threw your head back in laughter, his gorgeous laugh mixing with yours. “I couldn’t help falling for you, you landed in a puddle in front of me in your own kitchen. And then you ripped your pants in mine.” You were in hysterics at this point, as embarrassed as you were in those moments, it was absolutely hilarious in hindsight.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe you like me”, you caught your breath, “I had no idea.”

“I didn’t want to push anything”, he said sincerely, “I had no idea if you liked me like that, and after learning about your whole swearing off romance thing… I thought I had no chance at all.”

“Well”, you reached up and fiddled with the string of his hoodie, almost feeling the heat coming off his body, “that was before I met you.”

His smile at that moment was so bright, you swore it lit up the entire room.

“You’re amazing, Spencer”, he held your free hand in his, gently running his thumb along your knuckles, “I tried to avoid my feelings but I couldn’t do it. I like you so much it makes me sick.”

“Sick?” He laughed. You loved making him laugh.

“Yes, sick”, you giggled in reply.

Both of you were slowly inching towards each other, noses almost bumping. His eyes flicked down at your lips and then back up to your eyes. You gave the tiniest of nods, giving permission, and he immediately leaned in. And then your lips connected, it was like every romantic movie you had ever seen combined and ten times better. You could almost hear the swelling music score as his hand delicately cradled the side of your face. You felt like electricity was running through your veins and roses were blossoming inside your chest. He tasted sweet like the lemonade he just had, and you tightened the grip you had on his hoodie string. He hummed contently against your mouth, his other hand pulled you closer, until you felt engulfed in his arms, his scent, him.

So much for a retired hopeless romantic.

✩

♡ masterlist

[yunwangja]

⋆｡°✩ unrecognized, part 3 °｡⋆

kenma kozume x fem!reader

things went so much that a month passed by with kenma after he confessed to you that night, but you've never really talked about it yet.

➤ masterlist

genre: fluff, romance

tags: kenma x fem!reader, univ setting, fluffy ! DAMN KENMA (yes that's a tag)

notes: i think you'll be a bit lost if you haven't read the first two parts so i recommend you to please do so ! this is the final part of unrecognized, i hope you guys like it <3 nothing left to say teehee

“again.”

you don’t even get the chance to respond before he leans in once more, brushing his lips against yours like it's the easiest thing in the world.

he tilts his head slightly to the side, deepening the kiss with slow, unhurried intent. his hand lifts to cradle your face gently—his thumb strokes the curve of your cheek, grounding you even as the world around you seems to melt into a hazy blur.

then he pulls away, but not without stealing one more kiss. a final, teasing peck, like punctuation to the moment. he smiles as he does it too, something soft and a little smug pulling at his lips.

you… well… again…

you don’t even know how this became your life.

it’s been over a month since he first came over to your dorm, unexpectedly, takeout bags in hand, his usual hoodie slung over one shoulder like it belonged there.

you remember the way the light from your laptop glowed in the dim room, how the movie you picked played mostly as background noise while you talked.

that night was easy. great, even. it felt like pressing play on something long overdue.

from there, it unfolded naturally. he got your number, finally. and suddenly, he was around more—dropping by during your breaks, claiming the seat next to you in the library during your empty hours, walking beside you on grocery runs like it was the most normal thing in the world.

little by little, kenma threaded himself into the fabric of your life. until one day, you looked up and realized—he was already a part of it.

and then, things like this started happening.

this wasn’t even the first time, to be honest. you’ve learned a lot about kenma in the past few weeks, but something that stood out almost immediately was how smooth he could be when he wanted to.

he had a quiet way of slipping past your defenses, like water finding the smallest crack. it was the same energy he brought when he first kissed you—no warning, just his arms around your waist and his mouth on yours like he knew exactly where he belonged.

you couldn’t even blame him. not when you were just as guilty. and here you are again, limbs tangled on your couch in another one of these slow-burning, heart-thudding makeout sessions that leave your mind a little scrambled.

you like it. all of it. the way your life has shifted in this short span of time, the way it feels more full somehow. more real.

but even now, a question quietly stirs at the back of your mind. it’s been hovering there for a while now, unspoken and unaddressed:

where are you two right now?

it always seemed this unspoken thing between the two of you. the progression of the past month was definitely not forced—it did seem you both wanted it. it felt so effortless, so natural, like following a current.

huh. you got lost in all of these that you forgot to talk it through with him.

“again.”

he’s leaning in again, clearly not done with you yet, but you gently press your palm against his chest, holding him back. not forcefully—just enough.

“wait.”

kenma pauses, just barely, his golden eyes flicking up from your lips to your eyes. he looks a little confused, but he doesn’t move away completely.

“hmm?”

you take a breath. his closeness makes it harder to think, so you shift slightly, putting a bit more space between you. even then, you’re still facing him, your fingers curling slightly against his hoodie as you search for the right words.

“what… what’s happening?”

he tilts his head, like a cat hearing something unfamiliar.

“huh? we’re making out.”

his answer is so matter-of-fact, so kenma, it almost makes you laugh. but instead, you sigh and try again.

“no, i know that, just—” you falter, glancing away for a moment as you try to collect your thoughts.

you can tell he’s waiting for you to finish, to explain yourself, but under his quiet gaze, you falter. the words don’t come as smoothly as you want them to. you shake your head.

“nevermind. let’s just talk about it later.”

you try to move past it, leaning in this time, but it’s his turn to stop you. he places his hand gently against your arm.

“what’s on your mind?”

his voice is softer now. more careful. he looks at you with real concern, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear with the lightest touch.

“tell me.”

and god, you’re so weak for him when he’s like this.

“i mean,” your voice comes out quieter now, a little uncertain, “i guess we just never talked about... all of this.”

“what do you mean?”

“just…” you hesitate again, then push forward. “i feel like things have gone so fast we forgot to confirm what we are or something.”

you take a breath, eyes locked on him. “i mean, things are going great, but what is… us? what do you think?”

he listens. you see it in the way his eyes focus, the way he sits up straighter, more attentive now.

“i want to know what’s in your mind, kenma.”

a pause.

“i see.”

he shifts his weight a little, propping his elbow on the back of the couch as he faces you more fully. when he speaks, it’s after a moment of thoughtful silence.

“well, i guess, i’m… happy.”

happy? that’s it?

“that’s such a basic answer, but honestly, that’s what i’m thinking right now.”

he chuckles a little, looking toward the ceiling as if trying to put the right words together.

“up until a month ago, i used to be your acquaintance. i was just the guy who tagged along with your friend’s boyfriend… mostly so i could catch a glimpse of you.”

that makes your heart stop for a second. you weren’t expecting that.

“it was like i was close, but still far. and i hated it. i wanted to do something about it. i kept waiting for the chance.” he looks back at you now, eyes warm with memory.

“and then that night i talked to you, it happened.”

he laughs quietly, like he’s reliving it.

“did you know i was panicking inside before i followed you to the kitchen?”

you blink at him. “really?”

“of course.” he grins, a little bashful now. “it was my first proper conversation with you and i was going to tell you that i thought you were really pretty.”

your heart stutters.

you always thought he said that so casually that night. as if it meant nothing. but now…

“when i left the room i had to calm myself down. kuroo thought i was having a panic attack.”

you burst into laughter, and he smiles at the sound. it’s quiet, but genuine.

“but i’m happy i did that. after i talked to you, it’s like a big burden was off my chest. it felt easier, i guess.”

he reaches for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. he stares at them for a second, thumb brushing gently over your knuckles.

“well, that’s what i think.”

you stay quiet, watching him.

“i’m sorry if we haven’t talked about it. maybe i got too distracted with everything, too,” he murmurs, “but also… i get kind of panicky whenever i think about formally asking you to be my girlfriend. it’s stupid.”

you tilt your head, an amused look rising on your face.

“but you can kiss me as soon as you burst through my dorm?” you tease, lifting an eyebrow.

he shrugs, smiling. “well, i’m better in action.”

then he shifts, gaze locking with yours again. this time, there’s no hesitation in his expression. only clarity.

“and before we continue that—” he leans a little closer, still holding your hand.

“yn. can you be mine?”

you can’t help it—you grin. your cheeks warm as you chuckle, your fingers tightening slightly around his.

“i think i’ve been yours since that night, kenma.”

he lets out a breath of laughter, his smile soft and full of quiet relief. he looks down for a second, like he’s grounding himself in this moment. then he looks back at you.

“good.”

the silence that settles after is anything but awkward. his hand is warm on your waist, your other hand resting over his heart. everything around you feels still, like time itself is pausing to give you room to breathe this in.

you’re actually here with him. this close. and it feels… right.

you didn’t feel uncomfortable at all—which was weird, maybe. given that your first proper conversation was his confession, you thought you’d be more on guard about him.

but you’re not. since that encounter, he was all over your mind. and you’re feeling all of these things.

you feel steady. safe. at ease in a way that surprises you.

you want to get even closer. to curl up against him and stay like that for hours. you want to tell him how you spent your afternoon obsessively looking up that obscure artist he had playing from his phone the other day.

you want to listen to his stories. you wanted to hear more from him. you wanted to know his thoughts, and make you wonder why it took you this long to get to know him better.

you want everything. everything about him.

“kenma.”

he’s still looking at you.

“hmm?”

“thank you.”

his brows raise slightly. “what for?”

you don’t answer right away. instead, you bury yourself in his neck, breathing in the warmth of him. he stiffens for a moment—caught off guard—but then he relaxes, wrapping his arms around you with a quiet sigh.

“for talking to me that night,” you murmur against his skin. “i’m happy i got to know you like this.”

you pull back just enough to look at him, your lips tugging into a small, sincere smile.

“and i want to get to know you more. until i know every single thing about you.”

kenma chuckles quietly, heart thudding beneath your hand.

“alright.”

he leans down again, lips brushing yours with a tenderness that speaks volumes.

and this time, when he kisses you, it feels like a beginning.

[apple-kiwi]

Skz Calling you clingy

Chan, Lee Know, Changbin, Hyunjin, Han, Felix, Seungmin, I.N.

Part 1

Authors note: This was supposed to be out on Tuesday but then I got into K-drama and kinda forgot about. I honestly hate how this turned out but whatever. I tagged everyone who asked for part 2, if you want to be untagged lmk, also if you want to be added to my tag list for this series lmk

Warning: None I think

Taglist: @heaveniseverywhere @straykidslvr @staybychoice @luckymilkshakerebel

Not proof read

Word count: 939

Days passed since your argument and you hadn't gone back to the apartment. You'd been crashing at a friend's place, needing time and space to cool down. Lee Know, on the other hand, started to realize the gravity of his mistake and how much he had messed up.

He hadn’t expected you to just up and leave, leaving him alone in the apartment. He also hadn't considered the fact that you might not come back anytime soon. His initial indifference was gradually replaced by a feeling of regret. He had stood you up, ignored your texts, and then called you clingy. The more he thought about it, the more it dawned on him how much he had screwed up.

Each day that passed, the more he longed to see you, to apologize and make it up to you somehow. And so, after a few days of stewing in his thoughts, he decided to make the first move. He sent you a text.

The text read: 'Can we talk? I messed up and I'm sorry. Please come back.'

You stared at the screen of your phone contemplating whether to respond or not. Your anger was still fresh, but the pang in your heart wouldn’t go away. After debating for a while you decided to type a simple reply.

'Alright, we can talk.'

Your short response surprised Lee Know. He hadn't expected you to agree to meet so easily but his heart slightly leaped with hope. Immediately he texted back.

'Can you come back home? I want to apologize in person.'

‘Ok.’

Lee Know’s anxiety spiked at your simple 'Ok’. Did that mean you'd come back? He waited anxiously for your arrival, pacing around the apartment. He hadn't seen you in days and it was eating him up inside.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the sound of the apartment door opening grabbed his attention and he turned to see you walk in. Your expression was neutral and your eyes were slightly puffy. You avoided eye contact with him, closing the door behind you. A tense silence hung in the air as neither of you knew how to start the conversation. But after a few moments, Lee Know spoke up, his voice laced with remorse, "I'm sorry," he took a few steps forward, still maintaining a small distance between you two. With an apologetic look, he continued, "I shouldn't have stood you up and called you clingy a brat. God, I don’t even know why I said that. I should've been there for our anniversary and I'm sorry I ruined it. I hadn’t realized I hurt you so much."

You remained silent for a while, finally meeting his gaze. He looked genuinely apologetic, his eyes showing genuine remorse. He wanted to come closer and hug you, but he was hesitant, not sure how you would react. He knew he had caused the damage and now he didn't know how to fix it. You let out a shaky exhale, “You really hurt me min…”

Lee Know looked at you, his face a mix of guilt and sadness. As you spoke, his heart felt heavy.

"I know I hurt you, I made a mistake and I'm so sorry.”

"I promise I'll make it up to you," he said softly. That day was a big day for us, and because of my selfishness, I ruined it. I was thoughtless, and I'm sorry.”

He looked at you, his eyes expressing his remorse. He took another step towards you. "I'm sorry. Do you," he hesitated for a moment, "Do you want to break up?"

Lee Know asked nervously, dreading the answer he might get, but he needed to ask, he knew what he did and said was wrong and unforgivable.

“What? No,” you say almost instantly, looking up at him, surprised he would even think that you know the argument was pretty bad and there were words that shouldn’t have been said but it was nothing that couldn't be talked out, and it was not bad enough to throw away a 2-year relationship, though if he hadn’t apologized it would have definitely been over.

He hesitantly closed the distance between you, carefully bringing his arms around you in a gentle embrace. He knew this wasn't enough to win you over but he wanted to feel your presence closer.

"I'm sorry," he repeated as he hugged you, feeling the weight of his mistake.

And he truly meant it. He wanted to fix this, to make things right. He knew it wouldn't be easy but he was ready to try. The thought of losing you had scared him and he realized that he needed to put more effort into being a better boyfriend.

“I know…” you whisper

Lee Know held onto you, not wanting to let go. He knew sorry wasn't enough, he knew he needed to prove it through his actions.

"I love you," he said softly. "Please don't leave me."

“I'm not… I won't…” You say softly, sniffling and trying to wipe your eyes

Your words provided him with some relief, a weight lifted off his shoulders.

"Thank you,” he said softly, letting go to examine your expression. He reached up gently, wiping away the last traces of tears from your cheeks. "I promise I won't mess up like that again.”

"I'll do better," he added. "I'll prioritize you more and make sure we communicate better."

He kept his arms around you, still afraid to let go. He wanted to savor this moment of having you close after days of missing it so badly. You two stay like that for a while before you playfully pinch his side, “You owe me dinner.”

[idkfitememate]

A Boar! In This Economy? Pt. 2

⋘ Previous Part » ♡︎ « Next Part ⋙

૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა Pairings : Gn!Boar Reader x Bennet & Razor (Genshin World)

૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა W.K. : 2k

໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১ Tags/CW&TW : crack, fluff

So… you may have head but Razor.

BUT IT WAS IN SELF DEFENSE YOU SWEAR!

He just, POPPED UP outta NOWHERE! How else were you supposed to react?! By not attacking on sight???

So now here we are. With a knocked out Razor on the grassy floor as you and your family of churls and slimes stand over him.

Huh.

You had no fucking clue what you were supposed to do now. Do you… drag him out of the forest? Find a wolf from his pack??

Maybe not the last one cause wolves eat boars…

Anyway.

Dragging him out means that you’d have contact with other characters and you were NOT prepared for that. I mean, at this point you had built such a strong connection with the mobs around you that you kinda forgot about the characters?

You also had to focus on the fact that you were a boar now. Not a human. For survival.

You are now something that poofs into meat after it dies.

So as you stared, you failed to notice a rustling of bushes behind you, but when another human form rose from them…

You ended up kicking Bennett in the head via hind legs.

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍰🍧🍫୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

So, apparently churls enjoyed the average human sacrifice every once and a while. Which is fair cause sometimes you gotta let off a little steam, you know?

But not like this.

The two were tied to a rather long stick over a fire as churls of every type danced around while singing.

You simply sat your fine boar ass in the grass looking a little less than pleased at the situation.

As they continued to roast the preteens over an open fire like chestnuts, you finally realized that “Holy shit they are actually cooking them I need to stop that-“.

And stop that you did!

By spitting up the equivalent of a lake onto their fire.

…Cool.

As water logged churls stood by in shock, you began to nibble at the startlingly strong vines wrapped around the duo.

And by gods those were strong vines.

But your jaws were stronger.

And now you have two children at your feet, drenched and still somehow passed out Jesus it’s been a few hours how hard did you hit them?-

And now you had no clue what to do. Right back at the same dilemma that made you hesitate to save them. Wtf do you do with them now???

Your hesitation was apparently apparent as you felt a had rake through your fur. Looking back you noticed a hilichurl petting you softly, gently directing you towards an opening in the forest.

Allowing it to guide you, you found that a couple adventurers from the guild calling out for Bennet.

Fuck.

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍧🍮🍩୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

Now they were tied to a tree deeper in the forest. Only difference is that they were now awake.

And thrashing about.

And maybe a bit sacred.

You sat on your haunches in front of them as they thrashed against their bindings. Something you noticed was that they weren’t using their visions.

…Weird.

Anyway as you continued to stare at them and them at you are they pulled against the vines, you noted that Bennett had stopped and was now just staring at you.

He was opening his mouth.

Holy shit was he gonna speak to you?

“Hey there little guy..?”

HOLY SHIT BENNETT SPOKE TO YOU-

“W-would you be a good little boar and get help?.. or something?.. please?”

Your only response was a snort, then you turned to Razor. You wanted to see if he’d have anything to say.

(Not that that was gonna change anything you’d still help them-)

“Uhh… Good boar? Friendly boar? Boar smell weird… boar help Bennet and Razor??”

Yep you loved them.

Giving a small squeal, you finally made up your mind. This was enough human interaction for a while, so you’d find a wolf, bring it back and then let it guide them to the Wolvendom in order to drop them off with Razor’s pack.

While you stood triumphantly with small sparkles surrounding you, the two boys sweat dropped at the sight of a somehow smug boar?

Boars can’t move their faces like that, can they?

Bennett hesitated… can they?

Coughing and shaking his head, Bennett finally noticed you were walking away and the hardcore growling Razor was doing.

“Hey! W-where are ya going little guy?” He called out.

You just turned, snorted, then continued on your way.

“W-wait!”

“Stupid weird smelling boar…”

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍫🧁🍭୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

Trotting across hills and avoiding the odd traveler as best you could, you finally found yourself at the Wolvendom. Shaking off your nerves, you head inside.

You slowly made your way through the grass, acutely aware of all the wolves surrounding you. Letting out little huffs you found yourself in a clearing.

A clearing….

Wait….

OH SHIT-

“Hello little one.”

ANDRIUS YOU FORGOT ABOUT ANDRIUS-

“What is a small boar like you doing here where it is not safe?”

His voice had a teasing tone to it, which confused you. This was the literal Wolf of the North, the man who embodied wolves. An actual GOD of the pack. Why wasn’t he hunting you down on sight???

Your confusion was plastered on your face, causing the wolf to chuckle.

“As a creature connected to Teyvat, did you not expect me to realize when The Creator stands before me? My head bows to you, O Mighty One.”

And now a kneeling Andirus was in front of you, as well as seemingly every wolf in the forest.

… So they weren’t going to eat you. Nice to know.

As you tried to communicate with the large blue and white wolf what you needed, only small squeals and oinks made it out. God this was pissing you off. With the churls, they just seemed to know! While it would be nice to talk with someone, you hadn’t needed to for a long while. This was bullshit! Now you’re getting pissed off!-

“Breath my Lord. Have you forgotten?”

Forgotten what? Huh?-

“It seems you have, the boar is not your only form. Any beast that has its soul connected to the heart of Teyvat. Every creature, every animal, they are you children. You have taken the forms of all as you encompass all. Try taking the form of a wolf and speak to me.”

He was acting like a god damn tutorial. Which… was actually fairly needed in this time of… well, need.

So you could do other animals huh? Let’s just see about this. Focusing all your willpower into it, your skin began to shift and turn, fur growing longer… slowly you transformed…

Into a fucked up half boar half wolf abomination.

AND JESUS DID IT HURT-

Loud whines and whimpers mixed with loud squeals and barks left you maw as you hopped around, before forcing yourself back into your now more favored form, a boar.

Yeah never again. You’d rather struggle.

Sighing and placing ‘shapeshifting’ on the back burner for now, you simply walked forward and grabbed some of the larger wolves fur in your mouth in order to drag him. Staring down he let out a small chuckle (He can chuckle???) and began to walk forward, allowing you to trot in front of him.

“Of course my Lord, lead the way.”

Thank the gods he had nothing to say about that mishap. (Maybe he was scared of you smiting him… hehe…)

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍡🍪🍬୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

Keeping a brisk pace, your small form had finally found itself in front of the two boys once more. It seemed as though they had tired themselves out from struggling, but we’re still awake. And Bennett’s eyes lit up upon see you. As they should.

“Hey there little guy! Did you get h-h- OH MY BABRBATOS!-“

Andrius, in all his glory, walked behind you as you sat there with a somehow even smugger expression than before. A large abundance of wolves had taken their place behind him, looking like a sea of grays and blacks.

“H-h-h-h-h-“ You’ve broken Bennett, now to check on Razor.

…The poor wolf boy also looked shocked.

You slid your tusks under the vines and pulled, snapping them off and allowing the boys to fall to the grassy floor. And then two hilichurls gave them their visions.

Oh. So that’s why they weren’t using them-

You watched as Razor nudged at Andrius and a few other wolves before turning to you.

He was walking towards you…

His hand outreached towards you…

And he rested it gently on your head.

You nuzzled in to his hand as small happy tears began to run down your cheeks. You basically rammed your head into his palm, sucking up all his attention. He seemed shocked, then happily began to rub both his hands into you, a small smile on his face.

Bennett watched with in astonishment, before grinning and laughing, rubbing your back with his hands. And h o l y s h i t did it feel good.

Hell, even Andrius began to nuzzle you.

At some point the petting stopped - which made you sad you will admit - but as you watched them walk off you felt pretty good about yourself because like, you just helped some characters! Even if you were the reason they were in trouble in the first place…

But that’s not the important part!

The important part is now you had some friends! And they were pretty neat.

But now you had to figure out how the fuck to deal with your newfound ‘shapeshifting’ powers… May God have mercy on all vision holders.

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🎂🍭🍰୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

Omake~~ A Boar and two Boys walk into a bar~~

“Is this the onE NO IT IS NOT RUN RAZOR-“

Ever since that day, Razor and Bennett have been trying to find that weird boar that both kidnapped then released them.

The reason they had been out that day was because it was Razor’s turn to hunt for his pack. Sure, wolves hunt in groups but Razor ironically enjoyed hunting alone, but Bennett was always welcome.

Razor had seen the boar, saying that it had “smelled weird”, whatever that meant, and began to follow it. Of course, Bennett lost him for a moment but when he found him, he was met with the back hooves of a boar.

And the rest was history.

When they went around trying to tell the tale of the boar that had summoned Andrius, the people of Mondstate thought it was just that.

A tall tale.

The only person who seemed mildly interested was the bard Venti, but that was quickly shut down when he started trying to figure out rhymes and how to make a song out of it.

So they decided to find it on their own.

“Bennett need to stop running up to boars. Razor will smell weird boar.” Razor had grabbed onto Bennetts shirt while saying that.

“But the faster we find it, the faster we can show it off!” Bennett argued.

The two began to bicker in the field they had been searching in, it was near where the forest they had found the boar in, and the field was currently occupied by boars so common sense dictated that it should be out and about, grazing away.

Of course, you don’t follow their stupid mortal logic.

“Do… do you hear that, Razor?”

“Yeah. Sounds like pig in sky.”

“Well pigs can’t fly so-“

“DUCK!-“

Razor forced Bennett’s head down, pushing them both to the ground as four wild winds whipped around them. A large dragon and a hawk flew by as an equally large lion and wolf speed past.

“The four winds…” Bennett whispered.

Razor sniffed the air.

“AND WEIRD SMELLING BOAR!”

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍮🍧🍰୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

WHOOOOO WHOOOO IM RIDING A DRAGOOOONNNNNNNNNNN-

Today was a good day for you.

໒꒰ྀི˶˙Ⱉ˙˶꒱ྀིა Author’s note : Thank you to all who’ve enjoyed Boar!Creator so far! My inbox is always open for requests and what to do with Boar!Creator! Have a good day/night!<3 ૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა˖⁺‧₊˚

(P.S. if you want to be tagged, don’t be scared to ask! I’m still getting used to Tumblr, so please let me know if I do it wrong! The same goes if you want to be removed!~ ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა)

(P.S.S. would anyone be interested in hearing about my Genshin OC’s/My personal Genshin AU ໒꒰ྀི ∩ ⸝⸝ ∩ ꒱ྀིა?)

໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১ Tag list: @genshin-impacts-me , @resident-cryptid

I apologize to anyone else who wanted to be tagged, Tumblr is beating my ass rn and not letting me tag anyone else! Sorry again!-

[thefrontmanscockwarmer]

Obsession (Part 3)

Player 001 x reader 📖

Masterlist <- Comment on this post to be added to the tag list

Part 1 Part 2

Tw: stalker!In Ho, breaking into your home

Note: s/n is song name

You were getting ready for your date. Knowing In Ho, he’d be dressed in black, so you complimented it with a red mid thigh length dress, with a plain of black heels and gold jewelry. (dress link). He told you to “to dress semi formal”.

You heard a car pull in front of your house. Before you had a chance to get near the door to leave, the doorbell rang.

“Hi (y/n)” In Ho said from behind a giant bouquet of red roses. “I didn’t know what kind you liked so I picked these… I also bought the entire flower cart” he said shyly. He wore a black button up, with black slacks, and a tie. He looked so handsome you almost forgot who he was. You saw Young il.

“Wow, In Ho, these are beautiful” you said stepping aside so he could bring them in. He set the vase down on the kitchen table.

“Oh you have a cat!” He exclaimed as he saw (c/n) jumping on the table.

“Yeah! That’s (c/n). He’s a mainecoon” you say happily. You looked at your regal cat as meowed at In Ho, brushing up against him.

“A friendly one, you are very beautiful (c/n)” he said as he pet the cat. “Ready to go?” He asked, extending his arm.

“Yes I am” you took it, your purse swinging off your shoulder. You walked out to the Mercedes that stood idle in your drive way. He opened the door for you and waited till you sat in the car.

“So, what type of music would you like to listen to?” He asked passing you his phone.

“Oh anything I don’t mind” you wave it off.

“No please, play your favorites!” He insisted. You took the phone typing the artist you like the most. Your favorite song playing first. “Oh my gosh, I loved this song when it first came out, now my favorite by them is (s/n)” he said.

“Really? I love that one too! I like this one more, though” you smile. 30 minutes of conversation about music an artists, you arrived at a restaurant. ‘Jungsik Seoul’.

“In Ho, this is really expensive!” You say. You’d only eaten there once, and that was when Gi Hun made contact with you and asked you for dinner before he left for America.

“You forget that you have your own card linked to my bank account (y/n).” He chuckled, helping you from the car. You agreed. “One table for Young il” he said. Your heart throbbed in pain at the mention of that name. You were led to a table in the far corner, yet still somehow surrounded by people.

“Order anything your heart desires. Even order some of those fish things to bring home to (c/n), after all, a beautiful cat like him deserves to eat like a king, and you a queen” In Ho said. The waiter approached you.

“My manager said drinks are in the house since the lady is so beautiful.” You blushed deeply as In Ho beamed.

“Yes she is. My girlfriend is gorgeous, isn’t she” In Ho replied. “I’ll take a glass of whiskey on the rocks and she’ll have a…?” He looked towards you.

“A double shot of coconut rum with pineapple juice” you said. The waiter bowed and left your table.

“Coconut rum, and pineapple juice.” In Ho repeated. “Sounds delicious” a few minutes later as you were both looking at the menu, the waiter returned. You and In Ho were discussion on what you were going to eat. He order for the both of you, asking for two more of the drink you had.

“In Ho, I can’t drink 2 at once” you laugh.

“Hell no, the other ones for me. You’re making me jealous with how good that looks” he laughs and you follow suit.

Time skip:

You and In Ho were walking through the city. You didn’t know how protected you were, he has men hiding in plain sight as you walked through the streets.

“So, (y/n) can I ask you something?”

“Sure” you say wiping tears from your eyes after laughing so hard at his last joke.

“Would you see yourself being with me?” He asked.

“What?”

“Like if I didn’t involve you in the games. If I moved in with you or you moved in with me, in a house, not where I sleep during the games, can you see yourself with me?”

“I was able to see myself with Young il.” You say coldly. “I saw the rest of my life with him, and I see parts of him in you… but I can’t get past your job.”

“It’s what keeps my money going” he deflects “I am Young il (y/n). You saw it today, at dinner, walking, picking you up, that’s me. The real me” he said.

“But the job…” you begin.

“I can’t quit my job.”

“Then I can’t be with you.” You say coldly. “I’d like to go home now” he nodded and brought you to the car. You walked in silence, the drive was silent. He walked you to your door.

“I enjoyed tonight” you say turning to him. “Thank you, In Ho” you kissed him on his cheek and went inside.

He stood there, waiting to hear the door lock, the lock that kept him out, even though breaking in was so easy.

Tag list:

@syraxnyra @colorwastaken

[treeteaofversailles]

Should've Been Me Pt. 1

MDNI! This is my original work. Please do not post to another site or to AI. Thank you and happy reading!

Summary: All in Zayne's POV. He was friends-with-benefits with you, MC's twin, before things ended badly. Two years later, Zayne returns as your roommate.

Tags/TW: Implied smut, angst no comfort, miscommunication (no communication), swearing. Fem!Reader (she/her pronouns used, but mostly "you"). Non-MC Reader.

Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3oUMoiClWMVZu1VXU88Kbb?si=fd029ba8a81d4292

Parts: Pt. 2 | Final Part 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I’m really happy that I met you, Zee. Your words still burned as bright as when they were whispered sleepily against his chest. 

“Hello, Zayne.” 

That sentiment seemed to change with your cold opening. 

Zayne’s eyes widened, and his throat suddenly went dry. 

It was you. 

You were dressed in a plain t-shirt and a pair of black shorts that revealed your long legs. Two thin silver hoops were sitting on your bottom lip, which made it look like you had snake fangs. 

He didn’t remember you having them. He would have recalled feeling them against his lips each time he kissed you. 

Did you always have those?

He opened his mouth to answer but was quickly interrupted. 

“Hey, Zayne,” he heard behind you. Zayne looked past you and saw Greyson. Greyson beamed at him and put a hand on your shoulder, “Glad you finally got here! We were getting nervous that you got lost!”

Zayne couldn’t say anything but watched as you crossed your arms over your chest and reached up to fidget with your piercing. 

“No, I didn’t. But, I’m here now.” He answered as smoothly as he could. 

“Well, come in!” Greyson said and stepped to the side. His hand moved to your waist, and Zayne suddenly wanted to leave. But he tightened his grip on his box and cleared his throat before he walked inside. 

“I didn’t realize you were here too,” Zayne said, stepping into the apartment. The place smelled like sandalwood and you. He never forgot the scent of your perfume. The smell crept under his skin and made him feel hot again. 

Greyson laughed softly. “I totally forgot to mention our new roommate!” He beamed and patted your back, letting his arm fall as he held your back. With how low his arm dipped, Zayne knew it was on your lower back. “We were busy trying to move in about a week ago, then we got carried away with moving you in that I didn’t get to tell you until now.”

“Oh,” Zayne nodded, “I see.”

You were still touching your piercings before you let go and spoke. “Yeah. It was a last-minute thing. I didn’t think it’d go through, but Grey somehow got them to let me move in without much fuss.”

“What can I say? I’m charming,” Greyson smiled at you. Your lips subtly quirked in a soft smile. 

Zayne’s hand reflexively clenched at Greyson’s nickname and your smile. His skin prickled at the way Greyson was so leisurely touching you when Zayne couldn’t. 

“Would you like a tour?” Greyson asked him. 

“Yeah sure,” Zayne nodded.

Greyson gestured to the flat. “Well, this is the flat! Kitchens by the door, living room,” he swept his arm around the room, finally letting go of you, much to Zayne’s relief.  

“Bedrooms are down that hall,” he pointed to the hall on Zayne’s left. “Two beds. One at each end of the hall. And a bathroom between them,” he walked over to show Zayne. 

When Greyson was distracted, Zayne looked at you. You were already looking back at him. You didn’t seem confused or upset. You were just… You were neutral about it. 

But he wondered if you were just hiding your true feelings about the matter. 

You and he had rules. And he remembered them all. The rules haunted his dreams just as much as you did. 

The first rule was to not spend the night any longer than necessary, but to check in later or leave a note to say you were out. The second was not to leave marks behind, no matter how lost in your haze of sex. The third was to never say “I love you”. But the biggest and most important rule was not to fall in love. 

And he broke two of them when he thought you had broken that last and most important one. 

That night, you wanted him to stay one night just to rest; your kisses felt more sincere than they’d been before, staining his lips a lighter shade than the usual shade you wore. The way you said his name was more heavenly, melting away all of his worries. Melting away the thoughts of your twin. 

You never once uttered Caleb’s name. You only said Zayne’s. 

You couldn’t stand to go five minutes without reaching for his hand or for him, and he let you hold him, too lost in the haze of his desire and burying his nose in the smell of your perfume. 

The very same smell that was permeating this apartment. 

You told him you were happy that you had met him, and he let your words linger on his skin before he got cold feet. 

As soon as you both were done and you passed out in bed, he was out of there. He didn’t leave a note or a text. He didn’t even call to see if you woke up okay. Zayne cut himself from your life as if he’d never been there because he thought you were beginning to fall in love with him. And falling in love with him was the last thing that he wanted you to do. 

If you fell in love with him, it’d all be over sooner or later, and you’d get hurt even worse compared to the hurt you may feel when he leaves you after your hookups. 

Because he was in love with your twin. Not you. 

So he left with the hopes you’d fall out of it. He left so you could fall in love with another person who would actually want you. Not with him. And not with Caleb, who he thinks pushed you to Zayne in the first place. 

But the next morning, when he heard the special ringtone he’d set for you play throughout his house, as he lay alone in his bed, he was instantly slammed with guilt. The silence that fell after only made him sink deeper in his shame. 

“And an office here, but that’s her bedroom, so I don’t touch it,” Greyson pointed behind him. His voice drew Zayne from his stewing guilt. Greyson laughed and put his arm on your shoulders again. “Otherwise, she’d bite my head off.”

“And for good reason,” You muttered, elbowing his ribs softly. 

“The laundry room is in the back of the building, so you have to circle around the entire place to get to it. It gets busy every Saturday, so if you want the best spot, go for a weekday,” Greyson said. 

“I see,” Zayne replied. He shifted his box in his hands. 

A phone buzzed loudly in Greyson’s pocket, and he quickly excused himself to answer it. The door to the apartment closed behind him, and you and Zayne were left alone together. 

He could hear a clock counting the seconds away from somewhere in the apartment, but he couldn’t pinpoint where. 

Zayne shifted his hold on his box. “So…” he began. He’d never had to pause like this when talking, even with a complete stranger. But the problem was that you weren't a complete stranger. He knew you intimately inside and out. His hands were much warmer than he’d ever felt them before. 

“How are you?” he asked, trying to keep his tone light. 

You watched him carefully before you shrugged. “Fine. Got a promotion at the clinic, so I’m not working the dead man’s shift anymore.”

“Oh,” Zayne remembered you were a resident in pediatrics at Akso before moving to a smaller clinic about two years ago. 

Before you moved away from him. 

“Congratulations.” He said. 

“Thanks,” you replied. “And how are you doing?”

“I’m good,” he realized that sounded pretentious after what he’d done, so he quickly changed his answer. “I mean… work’s good.”

“That’s good,” You nodded. 

Then silence took over again. Greyson’s voice was muffled behind the door. 

Zayne couldn’t help but wonder if you and Greyson also… 

He snapped away from that thought. 

That wasn’t fair. The only reason why there wasn’t anything real between Zayne and you was that he was terrified of committing to you. He was terrified of letting his walls down and giving in. Because that meant he’d give up on MC and divert his obsession into you, and his constant need for you would make it impossible to breathe without you. 

But for the past two years since his decision to cut you out of his life, Zayne wasn’t sure if he was breathing at all. 

“How long have you and Grey been together?” He asked anyway.

You must have been intimate with him if you were able to move in so soon. Zayne applied almost several months ago, and the process still took ages to get done. If you were a last-minute decision and got in before him…

But why should he be sad? Zayne didn’t feel like he had the right to get jealous of Greyson. But he couldn’t help feeling a little bit—

“We’re not.” You replied sharply. 

Zayne’s stomach dropped. So it probably was—

“And it’s not what we had either, Zayne.”

He looked at you, and you just stared back with your arms over your chest. 

“We’re just friends,” You said firmly. “What you and I did was…” You shrugged and let out a small sigh. “It’s done. It’s over. Doesn’t matter anymore.”

Something in the way you said it made him believe that it still mattered to you. Or maybe he was projecting like the fool he was. 

“What matters is you getting unpacked and moved in before the landlord gets on your ass about all your boxes and the moving truck outside,” you said instead. 

“Uh… right… Okay.” 

When you didn’t say anything else and continued to stare coldly at him, he went to the bedrooms and spotted the empty one. 

He put his box down and wrung his hands. Zayne stared at the floor and then sighed. “I’m so fucked.”

“Why are you so fucked?”

Greyson’s voice startled Zayne, making him jump. Greyson just smiled brightly and nodded. 

“Come on! Yvonne is inviting us all to dinner and drinks! We should go as soon as you’re done unpacking!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag list (open):

@sylusgirlie7 @cockiiess @moonlight-dream54 @abejaruby

[jujutsukinkadamy]

The Last Thing you'll

Ever Worship

Suguru geto x reader

TAGS : dead dove do not eat, noncon implications, public humiliation, cult dynamics, drugging, corruption, psychological manipulation, enemies to obliteration, execution kink, darkfic, yandere cult leader Geto, voyeurism themes, reader degradation, intense power imbalance, dubcon setup, body betrayal, rotcore, no fluff.

CW: This work contains graphic descriptions of psychological and physical control, drugging, public degradation, implied non-consent, and worship-via-humiliation. Read at your own risk. DEAD DOVE. DOVE IS ROTTING.

author's note : I've had many disturbing thoughts inside my head while I was writing this fic. Hope you darkfic enjoyers like this! Anyways I forgot the word count cuz I'm lazy like that. Enjoy the fic, Reblogs, likes, comments are appreciated ❤️ Ask me anything on my page💋

The first thing you notice is the cold.

Your body is suspended, arms chained above your head, toes barely brushing the stone floor. Your robes hang in tatters, blood drying against your skin. You can taste iron in your mouth. Something’s cracked in your jaw. You don’t remember when.

Above you, torches burn with unnatural steadiness, casting a golden glow over the stone sanctuary. Shadows shift. Dozens of eyes watch in reverent silence. You’re not just a prisoner.

You’re a spectacle.

“You brought this on yourself, you know.” The voice is soft like silk soaked in blood.

Suguru Geto stands before you, dressed not in armor or battle robes, but ceremonial black and gold. His long hair is tied back with precision. There’s a lazy elegance to his smile, the kind you’d expect from a man delivering a eulogy rather than a sentence.

He doesn’t look angry.

He looks… pleased.

You spit at him, or try to. It dribbles from your split lip and lands on your own collarbone and his smile widens.

“Still defiant. That’s good. I want them to see it before I burn it out of you.”

You and Suguru Geto were once inseparable, two sides of the same soul, bound by utmost devotion for each other, shared battles, and the kind of love that bloomed between scars and silence. He was your sanctuary, your shadow, your almost. But when his faith in the world rotted, when he turned his back on everything you both bled for, you couldn’t follow him into the dark. Although he did ask you to join him, to persuade you somehow bit you didn't, you couldn't. Choosing good meant leaving him behind, cutting the thread that once tied your hearts together. You still remember the look in his eyes when you walked away, not rage, not heartbreak, but betrayal. As if you were the one who'd abandoned him.

You pull against the chains, despite the ache in your shoulders. The crowd stays silent, his followers, robed in muted black, standing in neat rows like obedient acolytes. Dozens. Maybe more. You can feel their eyes like hands.

Geto steps closer. He doesn’t need to raise his voice.

“This sorcerer tried to end me. Broke into our sanctum. Slaughtered four of our own. All in the name of the weak. The civilians. The powerless.” He clicks his tongue. “And for what? Their admiration? Their thanks?”

He cups your chin in his hand, tilting your face toward him. “Did you really think they’d remember your name after you died?”

You jerk your head, trying to snap at him, but he holds you steady. The smile never leaves his lips. He speaks now only for you. “You could’ve been great, you know. You could’ve stood beside me. They would’ve worshipped you. But you had to be a hero.” He sighs. “Now they’ll watch as I turn you into something better.”

You freeze. Not from fear. From recognition.

Because you’ve heard the stories.

Geto doesn’t kill his enemies. He converts them.

The room shifts. You were dragged like a sac to the stone altar and your wrists were bound by some chains that reeked of cursed energy and you were forced on your knees. A table is brought forward, black velvet draped across a low altar. On it, a carved vial the color of moonlight. You feel a sliver of something colder than fear slip down your spine.

Geto picks up the vial with a reverence you don’t understand. He holds it in front of you like a holy relic. “A special blend, tailored just for you. Sorcery-compatible. Doesn’t sedate the mind, just... encourages the body.”

He removes the cork and holds the vial between his fingers. You twist, shake your head, and grunt trying to resist but it’s no use. Two followers step forward to hold you still. You try to bite one of them, but all it earns you is a punch to the gut that knocks the wind from your lungs.

Before you can even register the punch geto's hand grabs at your neck and then the liquid is in your mouth. It tastes like starlight and poison. You try to spit, choke, anything but he’s already tilted your head back. Forcing you to swallow.

It burns all the way down. It doesn’t hit at first.

But soon… your skin tingles. Your chest tightens. The air grows thick, hot, heavy. It’s like your blood has been replaced with honey. Every nerve ending hums. Your thoughts scatter like birds. You try to stay angry, focused but your body has already betrayed you.

Geto watches you shake.

“Good. Let it take hold. Let them see how quickly righteousness crumbles.” He turns to his followers.

“Bear witness. Watch the great protector become the lesson.”

You sag against the chains. Your knees buckle. Not from pain but heat. You hate how your thighs tremble. How your nipples peak beneath your ruined clothes. How slick begins to pool between your legs with every slow, monstrous heartbeat.

And Geto? He just watches. Patient. Devout.

You feel your breath catch when he touches your neck, fingers dragging down to your collarbone. The contact is feather-light, but it ignites your skin.

No. No. You’re not this weak. Not for him. Not like this.

But your body is drenched in betrayal. He leans in, whispers against your jaw. “You feel it, don’t you? The shame. The hunger. It’s rewriting you.”

You whimper and that, more than anything, makes him sigh like a man in love.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything.” He caresses your cheeks and you crumple to the floor like a broken puppet. He kneels beside you. Cradles your chin. Brushes your hair back with terrifying gentleness. Your vision swims. The room watches, still silent.

Don’t give him the satisfaction. Don’t cry. Don’t beg.

But your body is burning. Need strangles every thought. Your hips buck against nothing. You feel tears threaten.

“This,” he says, voice barely above a whisper, “is what you were always meant to be. Not a hero. Not a weapon. A symbol." You shake your head, but it’s too late. Your thighs are soaked. Your mouth parts on a moan you can’t swallow. "Let me show them your truth.” The stone beneath your knees bites into your skin, but you don’t flinch.

You won’t give him the satisfaction.

The cursed chains binding your wrists behind your back pulse with residual energy, sapping your strength with each beat. Your shoulders ache. Your jaw trembles. And still, you keep your head high because it’s the only thing you have left.

But the heat is building.

That fucking aphrodisiac he made you swallow thick and bitter, poured straight down your throat as he stroked your neck claws through your veins like wildfire. It doesn’t just make you wet. It makes you want. And that’s worse.

Geto watches you with hooded eyes, if you can call it that. Elevated, draped in black and gold, his legs spread with lazy arrogance as he studies you. “You’re shaking,” he says softly. “You going to beg soon?”

"Why?" Was all you can muster up to speak, your whole body was shaking. Even thinking about you calling the man in front of you your whole life makes bile rise up in your throat. How naïve were you?

He chuckles. “You don't get to ask questions.”

A ripple of agreement flows through the cult. They kneel in reverence men with eyes wide and ravenous, women clutching at their chests like this is scripture. They’ve been waiting for this. To watch their god ruin a sorcerer.

Geto rises. His steps echo as he circles you. Every inch closer feels like a cage closing. Your knees twitch, but the cursed chains bind you still. You can’t run. You can’t fight. You can only endure.

He stops behind you.

The air shifts warm breath on your neck, fingers ghosting over your hips. You shudder. “Still pretending you don’t want it?” he murmurs, hand slipping beneath the torn hem of your uniform. “Even when your cunt’s dripping?”

You want to scream. Instead, you grit your teeth. The cult breathes louder. He lifts your skirt. You choke on your own shame. “I want them to see.” His voice is lower now, dark with amusement. “All of them. How a proud little jujutsu brat turns into a hole the second I touch her.”

You jerk away instinctively. Useless. His hands pull your chains back tight. Geto kneels behind you, one hand between your thighs. He doesn’t have to search long your folds are wet, glistening, flushed from the drug’s effects. He swipes his fingers through the mess, then raises them for all to see.

“Willing,” he announces. “Even if her mouth still lies.” He stands up as one of his followers starts disrobing him. His face is lit up with pride and something dark and twisted, as if he's won a prize he was waiting for so long.

He kneels behind you and forces your head onto the stone, your cheeks scraping against the hard rough planes. He spits directly onto your cunt slow and deliberate and rubs the saliva in with cruel fingers, smearing it across your folds, then presses the tip of his cock against you. A whimper leaves your throat as you twist. He grips your hips.

“You wanted to keep your pride,” he says calmly. “So I’ll take it from you instead.”

And he thrusts in. No warning. No care.

Just pain, sharp and blinding, tearing a raw scream from your throat as he forces himself deep. Your knees slide forward on the stone, but his grip yanks you back onto him, sheathing every unforgiving inch inside you.

He groans. “Fuck. You’re tight.” You choke on a sob. Several gasps can be heard in unison.

“She’s crying,” a woman breathes.

Geto snaps his hips forward hard. Brutal. Your head jerks back. “Of course she is,” he says. “This is the first time she’s been fucked properly.” The sting from his cock drilling inside you is nothing compared to the sting which comes by knowing for the fact that suguru geto knew, he knew you didn't give yourself to anyone, he knew cuz you once told him that he'd be your first and last. And still he's being merciless with you.

He sets a rhythm that defies mercy. Your body jerks with each thrust, forced to take every inch. The chains burn. The stone bruises. But worst of all is the heat spreading deeper with every pump of his cock inside you, every sick twist of pleasure forced through your traitorous nerves. The smell of copper fills the air around you both and you feel something dripping onto your thighs. You feel it in your spine. In your toes. In the way your thighs twitch open wider.

“No,” you whisper. “No—”

“Ah, there it is,” he croons. “She’s starting to break.” He grabs your hair and yanks you up, forcing your back against his chest. Your tits are exposed, slick with sweat, bouncing with every thrust. The audience watches, spellbound. His hands slip in between your thighs and gather the blood trickling down your thighs from your cunt where you both are joined and brings his blood covered hand to your chest, spreading the blood all over your tits as a form of ownership. The crowd roars in triumph.

“Look at them,” he growls into your ear. “They’d kill to be in your place.” One thrust hits something devastating. Your mouth drops open. A moan escapes before you can choke it down. Geto laughs.

“Fucking knew it. That drug’s turning you into a perfect little cumrag.” You try to shake your head and push him away all but to no avail. But you’re clenching around him, your body wants it now. You feel your climax building. Unwanted. Disgusting.

He knows. “Gonna cum, aren’t you? From being fucked in front of everyone?”

“No! P-please...” But your voice breaks.

He leans in, biting your neck. “Do it. Let them see how filthy you really are.”

Your body convulses. You scream as your orgasm tears through you, your cunt pulsing around his cock, slick gushing down your thighs. The crowd gasps and praises their lord.

You slump forward, trembling. Geto doesn’t stop. He grabs your arms and bends you lower, plunging into you with renewed cruelty. His thrusts grow erratic. His balls slap against your ass with each snap of his hips. And then, he groans and empties inside you. Deep. Hot.

You feel it flood your insides, thick and possessive. Your stomach twists. Geto pulls out, slow and wet. The crowd stares at your gaping cunt, watching his cum leak from you in sticky strings. Some men drops to their knees, whispering prayers.

He grips your jaw and forces your head up. "I'm not done with you yet." The crowd falls silent as he whispers into your ear. “Open your mouth, swallow my spit and thank me."

You shake. Silent.

He slaps you—sharp and loud. “Open your fucking mouth, Slut.” Choked sobs escape your lips as you part your lips unwillingly trembling from shame and self loathing. He grabs your chin roughly as he spits inside your unwilling mouth. You're broken beyond belief.

“I…” Your lips tremble. “Thank you.”

He smiles. “There’s my girl."

You lie in a mess on the stone floor, body shaking, slick coating your thighs. Your vision swims. You’re not sure what hurts more your body or your pride. The crowd doesn’t jeer.

They bow. To you. No, to him. To what he’s done to you. What you represent now. Ruin in physical form. Geto crouches beside you, gathering you up in his robe. Not like a rescuer, but like a conqueror claiming a trophy.

“I told you, didn’t I? You’ll be the last thing they ever worship.” Your lip trembles. He smiles, and presses a kiss to your temple like a benediction.

“This is what salvation looks like, little dove. Flesh, ruin and obedience. If only you listened to me at first. And now the last thing you'll ever worship is me."

A smile grazes your lips from the sound of your old nick name coming out of his mouth, only the man before you was nothing like the suguru geto you once knew.

[deezee112]

The worst ending 3 : Shattered Perfection

The worst ending 2 | The worst ending 4

Yandere!Deuce Spade x GN!Reader

A/N : I'm back!! I'm sorry for posting so late, I just got back from camp which was so torturous😭 And I'm writing chapter 5, the draft is almost done. I've been feeling quite inspired to write lately.

My inspiration came just a few weeks ago...

Warning : This story contains themes of emotional dependency , accidental death , intense guilt , and grief , The narrative explores a tragic , It doesn't have any yandere content but it's so sad. I'm sorry, little one 😭😔

Tags :

@iris-arcadia

If you want me to tag you please tell me.

English is not my first language.

You stared at the lifelike doll before you, its glassy eyes a mirror of uncertainty, as if reflecting the internal debate waging within you. Crowley's words echoed in you head " Raise this child, and you may find purpose in your mundane life! "

It wasn't purpose you sought—your always been a driven individual. But something about this child, sitting there so quietly, had tugged at you heartstrings in a way you couldn't explain. You stern, sarcastic nature wavered for just a moment.

Finally, you sighed. “ Alright, fine. I’ll do it. ” you muttered. “ But don’t expect me to be some doting mother figure. ”

As you reached out to the doll , it blinked , startling you. It was alive in every sense of the word. The doll no the boy—looked at your with wide, curious eyes , as though silently asking, What now?

“ I’ll name you...Deuce. ” you said finally. The name felt fitting somehow simple, yet strong.

Raising Deuce wasn’t easy. From the moment he began to walk and talk, it became evident that his emotions often got the better of him. His anger flared like a wildfire over the smallest inconveniences: a misplaced toy, a frustrating lesson, or even you own sarcastic quips.

“ Deuce, I said no! You can’t have ice cream for breakfast. ” You said one morning, you tone sharp but not unkind.

“ But why not?! ” Deuce shouted, stomping his foot. His cheeks flushed red, and his tiny fists clenched at his sides.

“ Because I said so. ” you crossed you arms, you calm demeanor masking you frustration.

Deuce glared at your, his temper simmering just beneath the surface. For a moment, you thought he might lash out physically. Instead, he stormed off to his room, slamming the door behind him.

Later, he returned, his head bowed and his small hands clutching the hem of his shirt. “ I’m sorry, Y/n.. ” he said softly. “ I didn’t mean to get mad. ”

You crouched down to his level, placing a hand on his shoulder. “ It’s okay, Deuce. But you need to learn to control that temper of yours. You can’t let your emotions get the best of you. ”

“ I’ll try. ” he promised, his big, earnest eyes filled with determination.

“ Good ” you said, rubbing his head.

Despite the challenges, You and Deuce formed a bond stronger than you ever anticipated. You saw past his outbursts to the kind hearted boy beneath. He tried so hard to be good, often scribbling little apology notes after his tantrums or offering to help with chores.

One evening, after a particularly rough day, Deuce came to you holding a small bouquet of wildflowers he’d picked from the park. “ These are for you. ” he said shy, his cheeks tinged pink.

You raised an eyebrow but couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at your lips. “ Flowers, huh? Trying to butter me up so I’ll forget you broke my coffee mug this morning? ”

Deuce looked down, fidgeting with the stems. “ I just...wanted to make you happy... ”

You heart softened. “ Thanks, Deuce. They’re beautiful. ”

In moments like these, you forgot he was just a doll a creation meant to mimic life. To you, he was simply Deuce, the boy who wanted so desperately to do right by you.

It was a stormy afternoon when everything went wrong. you had been working from home, typing away on you laptop while Deuce played with his toys in the living room. The thunder rumbled ominously outside, and rain lashed against the windows.

“ Deuce, be careful with that ” You called, noticing him swinging a wooden sword dangerously close to the lamp.

“ I’m a knight! I have to protect the kingdom! ” he declared, oblivious to you warning.

“ Deuce, I mean it— ”

Before you could finish, the lamp toppled over, shattering on the floor.

You sighed, pinching the bridge of you nose. “ Deuce! What did I just say? ”

His face crumpled, anger and guilt warring within him. “ I didn’t mean to! It’s not my fault! ”

“ Deuce, calm down— ”

“ I’m not a bad kid!! ” he yelled, tears streaming down his face. He lashed out, kicking at the shards of glass in frustration.

“ Stop! ” You shouted, grabbing his arm to pull him back.

But in his flurry of emotions, Deuce twisted away from you grip, flinging his arm out and that’s when it happened.

The sharp edge of a broken shard sliced through the air, catching you across you neck.

Your eyes widened in shock as you stumbled backward, your hands instinctively flying to you throat. Blood seeped through you fingers, dark and warm.

Deuce froze, his anger evaporating in an instant. “ y/n..? ” he whispered, his voice trembling.

You sank to the floor, you vision blurring. “ It’s...okay, Deuce... ” you managed to choke out, though you voice was barely audible.

“ No! No, no, no! ” He dropped to his knees beside you, frantically trying to stop the bleeding with his small hands. “ I didn’t mean to! I didn’t mean to hurt you! Please don’t go! ”

The minutes stretched into eternity as Deuce sobbed beside you lifeless body. His hands were stained with you blood, and his mind raced with a thousand regrets.

“ I didn’t mean to... ” he kept repeating, rocking back and forth. “ I didn’t mean to hurt you... ”

The house felt unbearably silent without you presence. Deuce wandered from room to room, clutching the wildflowers he’d given you days ago. They were wilted now, their petals falling apart, but he couldn’t bear to let them go.

He replayed their last conversation over and over in his mind. If only he had listened. If only he had controlled his temper. If only...

One evening, Deuce sat at the dining table, staring at a crumpled piece of paper. It was one of the notes he’d written for you, a simple “ I’m sorry... ” scribbled in childish handwriting.

“ I’ll be better. ” he whispered, as though she could still hear him. “ I’ll be good...I promise.. ”

He placed the note on you empty chair, along with the last flower from the bouquet.

“ I’m sorry, y/n.. ” he said softly, tears streaming down his face. “ I’ll never forget you.. ”