#Choppy but he's moving

[roughentumble]

he leaves on a tuesday

a mix for spark!stiles getting pushed out of the pack and leaving town. he's angry, he's hurt, but he makes a life for himself, and he wonders sometimes if it wasnt for the best

Afraid - The Neighborhood // Little Lion Man - Mumford and Sons // Saint Bernard - Lincoln // Honest Sleep - Touché Amoré // Ignorance - Paramore // Wolf In Sheep's Clothing (Acoustic) - Set It Up // In Our Bedroom After The War - Stars // Interlude: I'm Not Angry Anymore - Paramore // Walk On The Moon - Asobi Seksu

[moonkhao]

okay so either they moved the cursed eunji/jaewon scene further back in the show, or it got deleted which seems very unlikely but ??? like i just saw a spoiler from the movie, and it looks like that scene happened right before jihyun and jaewon had their talk from the end of ep8 so i’m like 🤔. especially since it would’ve really fit in between the eunji/jihyun exchange and the jaewon/jihyun talk since jihyun actually asked her to come to his workplace with jaewon.

[rillette]

🧃 *slips you a juice box* slurp slurp

yummy tank yew

[facedock]

Face’s Colorful Tie in The A-Team episode 3.16, Champ!

[linoguy]

-.-

[kitten4sannie]

𝔡𝔬𝔲𝔟𝔩𝔢 𝔰𝔱𝔲𝔣𝔣𝔢𝔡

pairing: san x fem! reader x mingi

genre: smut 

summary: minsan fuck you within an inch of your life <3

w.c: 2.4k

warnings: dom! minsan, sub! reader, san’s a meanie, mingi’s kinda a meanie but mainly a baby boy, himbo energy, threesome, somewhat heavy focus on mxm, spit roasting, spanking, face fucking, degradation, praise, name calling, kissing, facial, cum eating, snowballing, sloppy seconds, overstim, squirting, fingering, anal fingering (m receiving), masturbation, bulge kink, breeding kink, cum inflation (for a split second), creampies 

a/n: this was a request i got by a lovely anon <3 the concept of getting absolutely ruined by minsan is so goddamn hot,, i got really lost in the sauce this time around and i’m proud to say that this is actually just unapologetic filth and nothing else so i hope you enjoy~~

Masterlist

“Hey, be a little more gentle with her, San. She’s gonna break before I get a turn,” Mingi whined with a pout, releasing the grip he had on your hair to reach across your body and run his fingers along the section of your ass that still sported San’s sizable handprint, forcing his cock further into your throat, beads of saliva and pre-cum dribbling down your bulging neck and onto the already stained sheets below.

Positioned on the opposite side of Mingi with his cock drilling into your needy hole, San rolled his eyes, slamming both hands against your ass, his fingers sinking into your stinging skin and spreading it open slightly to watch his slick cock continuously get swallowed up by your hole. “You love it, don’t you, pretty slut?”

A muffled, though enthusiastic ‘mm-hmm’ left your occupied mouth.

“See, look. She wants me to break her, Min.” San hunched forward over your body, reaching for your jaw and holding it steady as Mingi continued to thrust more than half of his over-sized length into the small opening of your throat, feeling his fingers begin to grow wet with your spit. You felt his warm breath on your back and could practically hear his shit-eating smirk, not knowing his eyes were still on Mingi, simply because he couldn’t bring himself to stop watching him wreck your throat.  “Just look at her drooling all over herself like a brainless whore. She loves to get stuffed with cock, Min, that’s why we’re here,” San chimed, hoping he was educating his glossy-eyed, panting friend, giving him a crooked smile. 

“You’re–shit–right, San,” Mingi huffed out, sweat dripping past his choppy dyed hair and off of his sharp jaw, as he hunched over your body as well and reached out, gripping both sides of your ass. He spread you open further so that San could slide in and out even easier, forcing your back to arch painfully from the way you were sandwiched between them. 

San and Mingi found themselves in a similar position before, face to face, both balls-deep in a toy they preferred to share together, cocks throbbing away as they gazed at each other’s flushed, pleasure-struck faces, unable to ignore the presence of one another’s plush lips.

“Min, lemme taste you,” San mumbled, his hand moving from your jaw to your neck to clutch it, simply to feel the heaviness of his friend’s cock against his fingers as it slipped in and out of your throat. Your gurgled noises of approval and shiny, slicked-up cunt went unnoticed once San and Mingi’s lips collided, each getting a fair share of one another’s spit, their tongues eagerly licking into each other’s groaning mouths.

When Mingi was done exploring San’s open mouth, San took the lead and sucked his friend’s larger tongue into his own mouth, his flushed cheeks hallowing slightly. When he heard a whimper, San opened his eyes to witness Mingi’s big brown eyes looking right back at him. Swallowing their combined saliva down with a gulp, San let go of your throat to grab Mingi’s chin, one hand still cemented on your hip, making sure he didn’t miss a single beat when it came to drilling himself into your sopping wet hole. “You’re gonna cum, aren’t you, MinMin? Huh? Are you gonna spill your load inside her tiny throat and make a big mess?” he asked in a patronizing tone, his ego growing in size when Mingi whimpered more and nodded his head quickly, a bit a drool falling from his lips. San’s dark eyes sharpened, the sides of his lips curling into a salacious smile. “Then fucking do it.”

“Okay, m’ gonna fill her fuckhole with my cum, Sannie,” Mingi exhaled delightedly, reaching down and gripping the sides of your head, suddenly pistoning his oversized length into your throat, making you gurgle and choke on it, tears spilling down your heated cheeks.

San nodded his head in agreement, wrapping his fingers around your waist so firmly, his nails left indents. “Yeah, you are. Fill her slutty little throat.” Feeling you clench tightly around him, San groaned gutturally, his eyes just about rolling into his skull, responding by jackhammering himself into your dripping cunt as quickly as he could, the sounds of your muffled cries almost louder than the lewd sound of his balls smacking against your slick skin. “Fuck, baby, you’re about to cum all over my cock just from being our own personal fuckdoll, huh?” 

A strained, muffled sound of approval exited your throat, only able to take being pounded into from both sides once more, before the dam inside you broke. Your body shuddered and your limbs almost gave out underneath you, completely zoning out from the bliss until Mingi’s cockhead slapped down onto your cheek, hot spurts of white splattering out onto your face. This was followed by something hot and sticky painting your inner walls, some of it leaking out past San’s softening length. “Fuck,” was all you could choke out, your voice a bit scratchy and deep after the abuse your throat took. 

San smiled to himself, gently rubbing your hips in soothing circles, his lower half still flush to yours. “I would pull out, but I couldn’t possibly pass up the opportunity to knock you up, baby.” 

Turning your head back to look up at San, you licked at your lips, tasting the saltiness of Mingi’s load on your tongue. “Good.” 

San beamed at your reaction, his cock starting to harden inside you, wanting to degrade you but choosing to focus on the cum that Mingi left dripping down your flushed face. “What a messy girl. You should clean yourself up.” He slid in and out of you a bit, just to feel and listen to the filthy squelching sounds, before slowly pulling out and sitting on the mattress. 

Shuddering from the sensation of cum leaking out of you, you got up and sat back down on your knees, looking back and forth between the men, gathering up some of the lukewarm liquid on your face with two fingers. You began to suck and lick at them, moaning softly, beckoning the both of them closer once your other hand slipped in between your thighs to play with yourself. 

Slipping his hand around your waist, Mingi leaned in, running his hot tongue up the side of your cheek, collecting some of the milkiness for himself. “You’re so naughty, baby,” he whispered against your ear, his other hand clasping around one of your tits to squeeze and knead it, licking along your jawline. 

San was not far behind him, his mouth already attached to your neck to suck and lick at it, two of his thick fingers pushing into you and curling up to rub at your sensitive spot. The squeaking sound that escaped your lips made him smile against your skin, slowly kissing upwards until he got to your cheek, swiping his tiny tongue across your jaw to taste Mingi for himself. He grunted, looking over to his friend, still shoving his digits in and out of you, your juices accompanying the cum dripping down his wrist. “You need to drink more water, idiot.” 

“Huh?” Mingi mumbled absentmindedly, staring dumbly at San, remembering to grab your other tit to knead it as well, pinching your nipple between two fingers. “Something wrong with my cum?” 

“It tastes bad, you big dummy,” San hissed, removing his fingers from your cunt just as your pleasure began to crescendo, holding up his shiny, cum-coated fingers near all three of your faces. “Lick. This is what it’s supposed to taste like.” 

You pouted along with Mingi, for different reasons, licking between San’s pointer and middle finger, Mingi’s tongue joining yours to lap up the dripping cum. Before you knew it, you were passing the remaining liquid into Mingi’s open mouth using your tongue, spreading your legs open wider when his hand left your chest to cup your pussy, his palm rubbing eagerly against your swollen clit. 

San pushed his fingers in between the both of your moving mouths, his cock twitching painfully into his chiseled abdomen, barely able to take watching the both of your swap spit in such a fervent manner. Groaning, he grabbed Mingi’s shoulder and squeezed it, encouraging him to pull away and look at him with barely open eyes. 

“What is it, San?” he asked softly, licking at any remnants of cum and saliva that was left on his lips. 

“I need you to stuff her with your cock, Min.” He ran a hand through Mingi’s sweaty hair, smiling. “For me.” 

Mingi smiled back at San, his cock pulsing against your thigh. “Anything for you, bro.” 

-

Mingi had you in his lap on the edge of the bed, your back sticking against his heated bare chest, his large hands squeezing into your open thighs, his cock hitting your sweet spot relentlessly, so much so that your cum sprayed out of your pulsing cunt. It felt so goddamn good you were convinced that the stimulation was going to break your mind. It didn’t help that San was on his knees in between Mingi’s thighs, his fingers cupping his friend’s swollen balls and his mouth open to catch your squirt on his small pink tongue, his face soaked with your release. 

“That’s a good girl, do it again,” San praised, bringing his fingers up to rub them rapidly across your clit, pressing them harder into your bud when your hips tried to move away from his touch, not stopping until more clear liquid shot out of you and coated his already dripping tongue. “Fuck, that’s a good slut.” 

“No more,” you croaked out, your lower half so numb, you’d probably fold like a rag doll if Mingi wasn’t holding you in place. “I-i can’t!” 

“You can take it, sweetheart,” Mingi encouraged breathily, his deep voice penetrating your ears along with his heavy pants, sending a jolt of arousal into your core. He suddenly shuddered, emitting a surprisingly whiny moan upon feeling San’s tongue drag up his perineum to his sensitive balls, encouraging him to buck up into you to chase his high. 

San ran his palms up Mingi’s large thighs, squeezing into them the way Mingi was gripping yours, his thumbs teasing his friend’s puckering hole. Smirking at the sound of Mingi’s soft whimpering, San slipped a finger inside, feeling Mingi slowly begin to grind against it on his own.

Mingi’s jaw hung open, too consumed with lust to notice another finger sliding into him until he felt a sudden, powerful crackle of pleasure erupt from within his core. “Oh, fuck, that’s it, right there, right there,”  Mingi groaned, almost growling his words out, digging his fingers into your bruising skin and slamming himself into you even rapidly than before, sending you into a state of euphoria. 

San stroked himself vigorously, the muscles in his upper and lower arms straining so hard the veins bulged out, a bit of sweat sliding along his smirking face. “Oh, yeah? Does it feel that good, Min? Are you gonna cum in our plaything’s tight little cunt again?” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah–” Mingi could hardly speak, his body and mind completely overloaded with pleasure, to the point that tears began to form inside his hazy eyes, so close that he couldn’t possibly control the whines and whimpers that were joining your own, the both of your bodies unconsciously moving in tandem so that you could reach your highs together. 

San took delight in the visual of his friend and fucktoy completely falling apart in front of him, his fist squeezing around his cockhead, pre-cum spilling out, the slick allowing him to pleasure himself as fast as possible.“Fuck–Pump…her full…nnngh…of your cum, Min. Please, just make her nice and full for me,” San practically begged, so close to his own high that he didn’t care how desperate he sounded. 

“Cumming, I’m cumminggg,” Mingi moaned whinily, slack jawed, his tongue hanging out of his mouth, letting go of one of your thighs to press his hand down against your lower abdomen, feeling the outline of his cock, swearing he felt your tummy bulge out ever so slightly the longer he drained his seemingly endless cumshot into your cunt. 

You couldn’t even begin to form words, your orgasm doing the talking for you, letting out a few small, stunted moans, your entire body seizing up, spilling your release all over Mingi’s lap. You were so gone, you hardly noticed San suddenly standing up in front of the both of you, whispering something dirty and slapping his cock down onto your used pussy, his load spurting out and coating your mound, mixing with Mingi’s load, as it was already seeping out of you and down your ass. 

“Pull out now, Min,” San commanded softly, watching Mingi slowly slide his cock out with a small squelch, lowering himself back down to the floor to get a close up view of the absolute mess that was pouring out of your used hole, his thumbs spreading you apart. You were stretched wide and filled up with so much cum, San was ready to shed a tear from such a beautiful sight. A moment of silence, mixed with quiet pants and sighs went by, before San came up with a brilliant plan. “Should we stuff her hole together?” 

Wiping some sweat away from his forehead, Mingi tilted his head to the side, perking up, as though he were intrigued. “Like cock to cock?” 

San licked at his lips, tasting you on them. “Yup.” 

Mingi mirrored him, licking at his plush lips as well, eventually sighing to himself. “Double stuffed…”

San nodded, chuckling. “That’s right.” 

Once he exchanged a sleazy look with his friend, Mingi slowly looked down at you, his gaze darkening.

“Yummy.” 

Apply for the taglist here ⇢ ♡

© kitten4sannie, 2023.

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 9: Save Me

Summary: You find yourself confronting feelings as you move past the events that caused your distress, and as your heat begins looming closer and closer.

Pairings: Poly 141 x reader

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, language, angst, panic, PTSD, mention of weapons, slight suggestive content

A/N: I feel like a broken record but I really don't like this one either, but I'm so ready to just get to this point in the story lol. I feel like I've dragged it on long enough. We're definitely reaching a point where things are shifting and changing and things might seem like they're moving kind of fast. Sorry for all the choppy time jumps too, I just wanted to get to this point in the fic 😭

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

A knock on the door pulls you from sleep. You groan quietly, wrapping your arms tighter around the pillow you're cuddling. 

That pillow lets out its own groan, moving slightly. 

“Gotta get up, love. Answer the door.” Your pillow grumbles, shifting in your hold. 

You're wrapped around Gaz still, clinging to him tightly. You vaguely remember an alarm going off and Gaz rolling over to turn it off before you slipped back into sleep. Gaz had apparently fallen back asleep as well, or at least had stayed with you after both of your alarms going off.

Gaz carefully untangles your limbs from around him, slipping a pillow into your arms before rising from the bed. He stretches his arms over his head, a sliver of skin visible as he does so. You stare at it until he lowers his arms, your eyes already slipping closed again as he opens the door. 

You hear quiet voices, the words lost on you as you slip further and further into a daze of sleep. 

Until the smell of food hits your nose. Your stomach growls loudly, and you lift your head, squinting sleepily as you search for the source of the delicious smell. 

“Morning, sweetheart.” Price's voice rumbles through your ears, his hand warm as it brushes over your head. “How do you feel?” 

You let out another groan, leaning into his touch as his hand strokes your hair. You’re still sore, muscles aching like you had spent the entire day yesterday training. You feel less emotionally drained, not quite so overwhelmed to the point of near numbness now. 

“Dr. Keller wants to see you after you’ve eaten.” Price says, pulling his hand back. 

You let out a quiet whine, trying to chase his hand. He chuckles, gently nudging you back so you don’t topple off your bed. He slips his hands under your arms, moving you so you’re sitting on the bed. Your cheeks warm at how easily he does it, that warmth heating to an inferno as he sits on the edge of your bed with the bowl of porridge in his hand. You’re suddenly very awake as he holds out a spoonful to you, and you feel as if your face might burst into flames. His eyes are focused, lips turning up in a small smile as you let him feed you. You know it’s appeasing his alpha, just based on the pride practically beaming from him. 

You hold his gaze as he feeds you the porridge, skin prickling from the attention as you cling to the stuffed strawberry in your lap. You can imagine him in your nest, holding you against his chest, feeding you in your heat-induced daze, making sure you eat and get plenty of fluids. 

“You alright in there?” He asks, scanning your face. 

You nod, trying to calm the inferno under your skin. “Yeah. Just thinking.” 

The content smile on his face shifts, morphing into a smirk. “Must be some good thoughts, then.” 

You nod, taking the glass of water he offers you and downing it. 

“Get yourself dressed, then we’ll go see Dr. Keller.” He says, pushing himself up to stand. 

“Yes, sir.” You nod again, letting out a yawn. 

“If you’re not up in ten minutes, I’ll be forced to make you get up.” He says, giving you a playful smirk before leaving and closing the door behind him. 

Your face warms again at his words. You’re half tempted to burrow back under the covers, if only to see if he’d follow through with that threat.

Dr. Keller said it would be a good idea. 

You tell yourself that as you stand in Price’s office. The door is closed behind you, sealing you both inside together. His scent is heavy in the air, making your head spin. You wonder how long he’s been sitting at his desk, how long he’s been shut inside today. 

“Grab a pillow.” He says, his voice thick and heavy. He sounds tired, and you wonder how much he slept last night. If he slept at all. 

Your slippers make a scuffing sound as you shuffle over to the couch, grabbing the pillow you had used last time. You move over to him as he leans back in the chair, taking your spot next to him. You sit back on your heels, letting out a breath as you try and relax. His hand strokes the back of your head, giving you a moment to adjust to his touch before he slides it down to the back of your neck. 

You fight the instinctual urge to protect yourself, stopping your shoulders from lifting to try and force his hand away. You’re still not quite used to it, the vulnerability making your omega squirm, especially after the events that took place yesterday. 

You know you can trust Price, but your omega wants to bristle at everything right now. Perhaps you’re picking up on Price’s own exhaustion, his own stress bleeding into you. 

His fingers press into your neck and your body relaxes almost immediately. Your mind begins to clear, and you feel as if you’re floating away from your body. All the emotions and the stress and the soreness in your body fades as you relax into Price’s hold. Warmth begins to flood your body as your omega finally settles, nearly preening as your alpha takes control, taking the weight of the world off your shoulders. 

You can’t see Price’s gaze on you as he watches you kneel for him, lost in his own thoughts. How easily you relax for him, how trusting you are of him in this moment. You’re putting your entire being in his hands and trusting him with it, even though you’re practically still strangers. It hasn’t even been three full weeks since your arrival in their lives and already so much has happened. It feels like things are moving so quickly, but he knows they could move faster. 

If he were a worse man, a worse alpha, he would have claimed you already. Taken what was his to take and cared little for you and your needs. 

He’s not going to be that kind of alpha. He decided that a long time ago, long before you came into the picture. 

You fall into him limply as he eases his hand from your neck, letting you rest against him and breathe in his scent. Your nose presses into his neck, your warm little breaths causing goosebumps to form on his skin. A quiet sound rumbles in your chest as you press closer to him, getting louder as you breathe him in. 

You’re...purring.

Pride wells within him again. You’re comfortable enough to purr around him. He did that. He made you feel safe and comfortable enough to open up that much.  

He slips his arms around you, rising from the floor to move to the couch. You continue to purr, the sound vibrating through you and straight to his inner alpha. The sound begins before he can stop it, his own chest vibrating as he answers your purr with one of his own. 

He holds you close to his chest, purring contently as you slowly drift off in your relaxed state. Eventually your purrs die off as sleep takes you, but he continues to sit there, his own purrs vibrating in his chest as if they can reach through and soothe you even in your sleep. 

“Too tight?” 

You move your wrists, pulling slightly at the restraints. “No.” You shake your head.

“Good.” He runs a hand over your head, tugging at the vest, making sure it’s secured before he steps back. “Alright?” 

You nod, shifting slightly in the wooden chair. “Yes, sir.” 

“Remember, it’ll be fast and intense, but they’ll take good care of you. Don’t forget to play it up a bit. It’s good to know if they can focus in this situation.” Price says, running his hand over your head again. “And I’ll be watching the entire time.” 

He leans down, pressing a kiss on your forehead before he leaves the room, the beta outside the door pulling it closed behind him. You tug at the restraints habitually, even though you could get out of them easily. Just like you could get out of the vest strapped to your chest and the chair you’re sitting in easily. 

Hostage rescue training was not how you expected to spend your Thursday morning, but you suppose there are worse things you could be doing besides being restrained in a chair with a fake bomb strapped to your chest. 

Price had told you about their training yesterday. You hadn’t expected to hear about how you were going to play hostage when he summoned you to his office, but it had been far too formal a request to be something simple. You had been hesitant when he explained, but the risk was small. They weren’t using live bullets, and the bomb strapped to your chest was hardly more than a bunch of wires and a timer counting down. Price had even ensured the restraints weren’t too tight, and had shown you how to slip out of them easily. 

The worst part had been your mind running rampant while he secured the rope around your wrists. 

You hear the distant sound of the helicopter dropping them off, the entire mood in the house shifting. The betas outside have a role to play, and so do you. 

The sound of the door outside getting kicked in makes you jump, your heart rate kicking up. You know it’s them, you know it’s fake, yet you can’t help but let the emotions in the moment get to you. 

They don’t know it’s you they’re rescuing. 

Price hadn’t told them you were involved. He wanted to see if they could keep their heads in a situation like this. It’s important to know. Gives them something to work on if they can’t. 

You hear the pop of the fake guns outside the door before two solid thuds shake the door in front of you. You hold your breath, your fingers shaking in the excitement and adrenaline as the door flies open. You flinch out of instinct, blinking at them as the three enter the room. It suddenly seems smaller with them in it, their surprise not lost to you, even in the tenseness of the situation. You know you’re scent is thick in the room, cutting through the trained laser focus in their minds as they run through a drill they’ve probably done countless times. 

Something they’ve probably done in real life situations as well. 

“Easy, sunshine.” Soap says, kneeling down in front of you. “Gonna get ye out of here.” 

“You can defuse that, right?” Gaz asks, standing behind him. You know they’re both trained in demolitions. You remember that from their files. 

“Course I can.” Soap says, looking at the wires. 

The timer starts beeping in warning, your heart rate picking up instinctively. There wasn’t anything that would actually explode if he failed, but you can’t help the chill of fear settling in as he messes with the wires. 

“Come on, Johnny.” Ghost says from behind you. 

“I got it.” Soap growls out, sweat beading on his forehead. 

You stare at him, your heart pounding in your chest. Time seems to slow as he studies the wires, the timer continuing to beep as it counts down. Even though you’re not in any danger, you still feel the fear welling inside you. He does know what he’s doing, he wouldn’t be in this position in the first place if he didn’t. Yet you can see the struggle, the hesitation, the uncertainty in his gaze. 

He wouldn’t let you die, right? 

“Ten seconds.” Gaz warns. 

“Johnny?” You breathe, voice cracking as you meet his bright blue eyes. 

He mutters a curse before cutting one of the wires. The tenseness in the room is palpable for a moment as all four of you hold your breath. The silence is loud, the timer on the fake bomb sitting still at six seconds. Soap’s head falls forward to rest against your chest as he breathes a sigh of relief. You’re shaking, fingers trembling as Ghost cuts the rope around your wrists. 

“Hostage secure.” Gaz says into their comms. 

“I wasnae gonna let ye die, sunshine.” Soap says, removing the vest from your body. 

“Kinda felt like it.” You murmur as he helps you out of the chair, your legs shaking a bit from the adrenaline. 

“Come on.” Ghost says as soon as Soap has you on your feet. “Captain’s waiting.” 

Your legs still feel unsteady as you follow them out of the building and across the grass, hand clutched tightly in Soap’s. The fabric of his glove is rough against your skin, but you can still feel the warmth of his hand in yours. You lean against his side as you reach Price across the field, not missing the way his gaze scans you head to toe quickly before he addresses the others. 

“Not bad,” Price says. “And the hostage is in one piece.” 

You’re still shaking a little, but you can’t stop the smile that tugs at your lips. “Was kind of fun, actually, getting tied up and stuff.” 

Soap and Gaz both let out groans at your words, Ghost rolling his eyes at your cheeky smile. The corner of Price’s lips twitch, and you can’t help but beam with pride at eliciting such a reaction. 

“Let’s get back to base, and we’ll go over the specifics.” Price says. 

You wind up in the back seat of one of the cars with Soap, his arm draped across the back of the seat. You’re leaning into his side, his fingers brushing your arm every so often as the car drives down the bumpy road. 

“Ye called me Johnny.” He says quietly, leaning in closer to you. 

You stare up at him. “You were going to let me explode.” 

“I was not.” He says, looking offended. “I knew wha’ I was doin’” His brows pinch together, his hand cupping the back of your head. “I would never let anythin’ happen to you.” 

“I know.” You say, leaning your head on his shoulder. “At least I hope so. Blowing up is kind of a shitty way to die.” 

He huffs out a laugh. “Well, if it happened that way, ye wouldn’t be goin’ out alone.” He presses a kiss to your forehead. “Ye can call me Johnny anytime you want.” 

You smile, snuggling deeper into his side. “Okay, Johnny.” 

Your smile only widens as you pick up the subtle rumbling purr sounding from his chest. 

“How are things?” 

“Fine.” You shrug, sinking back in the chair. 

“I heard you took part in the hostage training. How did that go?” Dr. Keller asks. 

“It was fine, kind of intense but also kind of fun.” You shrug again, a smile tugs at your lips. “They didn’t know I was the hostage, so that was fun to see their reactions.” 

“Was that reassuring to see them in action and have them pretend to rescue you? I know we’ve talked about that fear briefly.” Dr. Keller says.

“In a way, I guess.” You say. “At least, I know they could do it if they had to. I mean, not that I don’t trust that they couldn’t, but...it’s different.” 

“It’s different when it’s someone you care about.” Dr. Keller says. “How are you feeling? I know we talked earlier this week, but distressing is a serious thing to go through.” 

“I’m alright.” You say, picking at your jeans. “Not sore anymore. Price called off training for a while to let us both kind of figure things out.” 

“Have you spoken to Lieutenant Riley since Monday?” She asks. 

You nod. “Yeah. A couple times. I didn’t accept his apology, not that he really said sorry directly, but he at least...explained some things.” 

“And it is totally within your right to not forgive him.” Dr. Keller says. “I applaud you for putting up that boundary. I know it’s not easy, but sometimes people need to work to prove themselves again.” She makes herself comfortable on the couch, staring at you. “How have you been aside from all the excitement? Have you started nesting yet?” 

You shake your head, biting your lip. “No. I-I feel more comfortable now that I have things for my room, but...I still don’t feel like nesting.” 

Dr. Keller hums, staring at you for a moment before she writes something down. “What do you think is causing this hesitance in your instincts?”  

Your mouth opens in surprise at her question, not quite expecting it. You had spoken last week about things you might be able to do to help if you weren’t nesting by now. You had expected to start throwing out ideas in that regard, not that you would be digging into why. 

“I’d like you to be honest with me. Remember this conversation will only ever be between us. No one else is going to hear this, no one else will ever see my notes. It’s just you and me.” She leans forward, putting her elbows on her knees as she stares at you. “Would you have chosen to be in a place like this, if it were up to you?” 

“It wasn’t up to me. It never was.” You say, starting to sweat nervously a bit. It’s getting warm in the office.

“I know, but hypothetically speaking. If you had the option to choose, would you have chosen a place like this? A military pack?” 

You stare at your hands, fighting the emotions welling up inside you. You wouldn’t have. You know that, you’ve thought about it over and over. You wouldn’t have put yourself in this position. You would have gone as far from the military and politics as you could have, had it been up to you. You want something quiet and easy with an alpha that loves you and takes care of you. Not...not this. 

You’re crying. You can’t stop the tears that are trailing down your cheeks. You feel guilty for thinking that way. It’s not your choice, it would have never been your choice. You’re supposed to be a good omega and be okay going wherever you’re told to, with whatever pack picks you. 

They hadn’t chosen you. 

They hadn’t wanted you here. Price had fought against your addition to their pack up until you arrived. You know Ghost has his own opinions about your presence here. They had been told they were getting an omega and you had been told you were going to be that omega. 

Would they have chosen you? 

You wouldn’t have wanted them to. 

Dr. Keller says your name quietly, her tone sympathetic as you sit there and cry. You’re crying for the life you were supposed to have, the life you could have had, the many things that would have been different had you just been a good pup and presented like you were supposed to. 

“I don’t want to be here.” You sob, burying your face into your hands. 

You feel guilty, admitting it, even if it is the truth. Your pack has been nothing but kind and supportive, aside from the incident earlier this week. You like them, all things considered. You can imagine yourself being happy with them. Was it what you wanted, though? Was this where you would have elected to spend the rest of your life? 

No. 

“Can you tell me why?” Dr. Keller asks softly. 

Her question only makes you cry harder. You could. You could tell her exactly why. You don’t want to bring up those feelings, those memories, those emotions. You want to leave them behind in the past, buried under everything you learned that made you such a good omega. It would ruin everything, if that got out, if those feelings came to light again. 

Your breaths are coming in gasps as you sob, Dr. Keller rising from the couch. She grabs a stuffed animal from her closet, walking back over to you. She eases it into your arms, pressing it against your chest. 

“Squeeze. It will help.” She directs you, dropping to a knee beside you. “This has something to do with the military, doesn't it?” She says softly, putting a hand on your back. “I know your father served and you spent most of your childhood on bases. Was there something that happened?” 

You take deep breaths, squeezing the bear against your chest as tight as you can. “I can’t.” You sob, shaking your head. “I can’t.” 

“Okay.” She says, gently rubbing your back. “That’s okay. Deep breaths.” 

You continue to breathe, trying to calm the tears. Dr. Keller continues to rub your back, trying to ensure you don't slip into distress again. The calming beta scent floods your nose, reaching back into your brain to calm the turmoil. 

Slowly your breaths begin to even out, and the tears slow to a stop. You’re still clutching the stuffed bear to your chest, arms wrapped around it tight. 

“You’re doing a good job.” Dr. Keller says, grabbing a box of tissues for you. “You’re handling this whole situation better than I think a lot of omegas would. But, that doesn’t mean you have to be okay with it. I’d be more concerned if you weren’t struggling a bit. You don’t have to tell me everything, you don’t have to tell me anything. It’s all up to you. I just want you to know that I’m not going to judge you for anything, and I’m not going to tell anyone anything. I’m here for you, and you alone.” 

You slowly release your grip on the bear, your hands still shaking a bit. Dr. Keller moves back to the couch as you stare down at the plastic eyes, running your fingers over its soft fur. 

“I do think it would be a good idea to address the nesting issue sooner rather than later.” Dr. Keller says, still speaking softly. “We don’t have to get into the why until you feel comfortable enough to, but you need a nest before your heat starts. I have a couple exercises in mind to help maybe jumpstart those instincts, but we’ll need Captain Price in on this issue as well for them to work. I can speak for him on your behalf, if you’d like. I won’t tell him any details.” She says as your eyes dart up to look at her. “Only that there’s a nesting issue and there’s some exercises I’d like the two of you to try.” 

You let your gaze drop back to the bear. You know you need to start nesting, and with your heat rapidly approaching, you’re beginning to be pressed for time. Your heat could start as soon as next week and if you don’t have a nest...

“I guess that’s fine.” You say, staring back down at the bear in your hands. “If you think he can help.” 

Dr. Keller nods, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I think he can.” 

“Thank you for meeting with me, Captain Price.” Dr. Keller says as they take a seat in her office. “I just wanted to preface this conversation by saying I was given permission to discuss this with you, because we both agree you should be made aware of what’s going on.” Dr. Keller shuffles her notes as Price sits there, back straight in the chair. “Frankly, if I’m being honest, I’m starting to get a little concerned about my patient.”

“Concerned about what?” Price asks, brows pinching. 

“She’s not having nesting instincts.” Dr. Keller watches Price’s face as she speaks. “Even with what you did for her, buying her things to make her more comfortable, she’s not getting that urge to make a nest. I know you’re aware that’s a crucial piece of a successful heat, and with that looming ever closer, I’m worried about her.” 

“What do you think is causing it?” Price asks, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. 

“I’m not sure, yet. I did promise I wouldn’t reveal any details about anything, but I do feel comfortable saying, as I’m sure you have figured out, there’s a lot of trauma behind that institute taught, if I may be so frank, bullshit.” 

The corner of Price’s mouth twitches. “Not a fan of institutes?” 

Dr. Keller shakes her head. “No. I’m not. There’s many professionals that share the same sentiment. They’re hardly the nurturing and cultivating places they present themselves to be, though I’m sure you’re figuring that out yourself. It’s always been about control and profit. The current model most of them use is outdated and has been proven in study to be highly ineffective. There are some places here in Europe that are beginning to reform institutes and what they teach, taking a more omega-centric approach, instead of just priming them for future alphas and packs.” 

“Can it be undone, the things she was taught?” He asks, purely out of curiosity. “The way she thinks about herself?”

“I think so, to a degree.” Dr. Keller answers. “You’re already seeing it a bit. She’s already having her beliefs and understanding challenged. Supporting her through that will be an important step in your bonding. The best thing you can do is support her and prove her institute taught beliefs wrong. I think you’re doing a fantastic job already, as is she.” 

“What can we do about the nesting?” He asks. 

“I have a couple exercises in mind I’d like to try. I’ve used one in practice before in a different situation. It was at one of the institutes I worked at after I was certified as an omega specialist. Two omegas were brought in off the streets. I can’t give too many details but they’d been through something very traumatic and had bonded intensely with each other. They couldn’t be separated at all without slipping into near distress. Of course, institutes don’t allow those kinds of bonds as it’s hard on the omegas when they reach selection age. So, we did an exercise where I had both scent a stuffed animal and then gave them each other’s so they’d have something tangible to focus on. Then we started slowly working on separation, using those stuffed animals so they could keep the scent of the other close. It worked, eventually they were able to be apart. I’d like to try the same thing, but to the opposite effect. I’d like you to scent a stuffed animal so it can be used as a sort of symbol, something tangible she can use to represent you.” 

“A way to introduce me into her nest without having me there invading her space.” Price says. 

“Exactly.” Dr. Keller smiles. “Having an alpha’s scent around her might help induce not only that feeling of comfort she needs, but may also help induce those instincts to nest. Doing it this way prevents the risk of discomfort by having an alpha invading her space directly, while still allowing for the introduction of an alpha’s scent.” 

“Alright. What else do you think might help?” Price asks, running his hand over his beard. 

“Another exercise, this one more tactile in nature. This particular one she can do herself, though she may choose to involve you later as she gets more comfortable doing it. I know she’s kneeling for you already, which is fantastic. Some omegas don’t kneel until after being claimed. That she feels comfortable enough to do it already is a good sign. She’s already had these exercises explained to her, but I would like to meet with you both to walk through them again, and in the end, it’s her decision what happens.” Dr. Keller gives him a small smile. “Do you have any questions?” 

“What can be done if these exercises don’t work?” Price asks. 

“There are a couple other things that can be done, though they’re far more invasive. I wouldn’t even suggest them unless she’s showing clear signs of pre-heat symptoms and still hasn’t nested yet. They have their risks, and that’s not something I’m willing to gamble on unless it’s absolutely necessary.” 

Price hums quietly. “Is there anything I could be doing differently to help?” 

“I think you’re both doing fantastic jobs with the hand you’ve been dealt. It’s not an easy situation and the fact she’s made as much progress as she has is remarkable, honestly. My job’s been fairly easy so far. I was expecting a lot worse when Laswell briefed me. That being said, there’s still a long way to go.” 

“Thank you, Doctor.” Price says, shaking her hand. “You’ve been a big help.” 

“It is my job.” Dr. Keller shrugs. “Remember, I’m always here if you have any questions or concerns. I may be an Omega Specialist, but that also includes the omega’s pack as well.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Price says, giving her a smile. “And I’ll be sure to tell your brother you said hello.” 

Dr. Keller smirks, huffing out a laugh. “Yeah, remind him to call his sister every once in a while, while you’re at it.” 

You run your fingers over the soft fur of the teddy bear. Your eyes flutter closed as you let Price’s scent wash over you. You clutch the bear to your chest, wrapping your arms around it tightly as you lounge on your bed. You bury your nose in its fur, breathing in Price’s earthy scent from it. 

A quiet sound begins to rumble in your chest as you hug the bear tightly. A small, content smile pulls at your lips as you curl up in a ball around the bear, purring quietly. 

It’s been so long since you purred. 

You haven’t since you were a pup, still young enough to find safety in your home, before you really understood much of anything that was going on. You only ever purred with your mother, snuggled up in the nest with your siblings, warm and content and safe. 

Your dad never purred. Or, you never heard him do it. You remember the deep growls that rumbled through his chest, the scent of ozone. The warning that made you bristle, even as a pup, that tickling feeling at the back of your neck almost like your brain knew years before you even presented. 

You wrap your arms tighter around the bear, letting Price’s scent flood your mind and wipe away the fear, the feelings, the emotions mixing together. Price isn’t like that. He was so willing to help you, to jump in and do what it took to make the best of a situation that neither of you had a say in. Just an alpha and an omega bound to duty, forced to follow what someone else says. How very much alike your lives are, and yet, so vastly different. 

That’s why you’ve found comfort in him so quickly, you think. You understand him. He may be a captain, he may be pack alpha, he may be a leader, but he’s not in control. Not completely. There’s still someone behind the scenes, pulling the strings, telling him where to go, what to do. Someone’s pointing him in a direction and it’s his duty to follow. 

You were never going to be in control. You were born a subordinate, and you had been cursed to always be one by your presentation. Your entire life would be dictated for you, by someone telling you what to be, how to act, where to go, what to do. There would always be expectations for you, someone behind the scenes pulling the strings. 

Your presence here is full of expectation. You weren’t just bonding with a pack as your duty, there was expectation for it. You had been sent here with a purpose, leading an initiative that could shape the future of many omegas to come. You’re not just an omega chosen by a pack that wants one. 

You’re part of a government initiative. Your whole purpose is to see if adding an omega to a pack of highly trained soldiers really will improve their effectiveness and proficiency. 

Falling in love with them is just a side effect of your own mission. 

Love might be a strong word for it. It wouldn’t matter to those watching your progress if you hated them. You’re supposed to bond with them, be their omega. Prove that it’s worth it, that the strengths weigh out the potential vulnerabilities. Then hundreds of omegas stuck in institutes will be trained to follow in your footsteps. 

You wouldn’t wish this on anyone. 

You’re lucky they’ve been so good to you. You’re lucky you’re beginning to feel it, those spaces in the back of your mind that have been empty for years beginning to fill as your omega comes to accept her pack. The betas anchoring your omega, the alphas surrounding and protecting. 

You'll do your duty. You'll bond with them. You'll mate with Price. You'll allow him to claim you. You'll be their good little omega. 

It won't be the worst life. 

They at least care about you. Gaz and Soap have shown interest in you and mating with you themselves. Ghost...you've got a long way to go with him still, but you're beginning to make some headway into earning his acceptance. 

Price...Price has begun to show some interest as well. You've knelt for him, kissed him, allowed him into your space. He calmed your distress, bought you items to help make your space more comfortable. He scented a stuffed bear to help you nest. 

He'll treat you nicely, or at least you hope he will. He'll lose himself to his rut when you go into heat, and you've heard plenty of horror stories. You know what to expect, from the best to the worst. You could come out the other side mated and content, or you could come out half mauled to death. There's no way of knowing. Price will be a slave to his instincts just as much as you will be. 

You don't want it to be like that. 

You don't want your first encounter with the opposite sex to be lost to the haze of your heat, something that could potentially put your life at risk. How long has it been since Price has had an omega? You know he has. He's too calm, too collected around you to never have had experience with one before. 

Will he treat you well? How will he touch you? You can't imagine him as being a selfish lover, but you won't know. You won't know until you're dazed with lust as your body yearns for release, for an alpha's knot. 

You could find out beforehand. 

The thought has you sitting up in your bed. You could pursue that with Price before your heat starts. There's no rule that says you can't before your heat. You know there's omegas that don't wait. There's alphas that don't wait when omegas join their packs. Price could have taken you that first day if he really wanted to. 

Would he have bent you over his desk? Done it in his room or yours? Would he have done it in the meeting room in front of the rest of the pack? Staked his claim like some primal alpha?

The thought has warmth pooling in your stomach. The mental image of Price taking you in front of the others, sinking his teeth into your neck as he stakes his claim, marking you as his. 

“Fuck.” You breathe, clenching your thighs together. 

You could ask. What's the worst he's going to say? No? You'll just retreat in shame and hide out until your heat begins in embarrassment. He was so willing to do what you wanted, what you asked of him. Would he say yes if you asked him? If that's really what you wanted? Does he want it? Does he want you? 

All you have to do is ask. You're allowed to want things, to desire things. Everything you've asked for so far, you've gotten. 

The heat between your legs only confirms it. You want this. 

You want Price. 

Your hands are shaking as you reach for the door handle. He had given you permission to enter already, but your nerves make it feel like you’re moving in slow motion as you wrap your fingers around the nob, turning and pushing inwards. His eyes are on you as you slip in, closing the door behind you. You can’t read his face as he sits there, staring at you in your baggy shirt and leggings. 

“What’s eating you, pup?” He asks as he stares at you, watching you fidget nervously.

“I wanted to ask you something.” You say, shifting your weight between your feet. 

He reaches out a hand, motioning you closer. You approach his desk slowly, taking his outstretched hand. He guides you in front of him, lifting you to sit on the desk. He leans back in his seat, staring up at you. “You can ask me anything.” 

You bite your lip, staring down at him. His hands come to rest on the edge of the desk on either side of you. It’s comforting, supportive, instead of constricting as it might have felt just two weeks ago. It only furthers your belief that you’re making the right choice, that this is what you want. 

You stare down into his eyes, your hands coming to rest just beside his on the desk. “I want my first time with you to be before my heat.” The words come spilling out quickly, almost so quickly you’re not sure he caught them. 

He stares at you, surprise flickering across his face for a moment before he’s back to the straight-faced captain again. “You’re sure?” 

You nod. “I want to remember the first time. It’ll make me feel better after we...have to do it. I think...it’ll help me feel less like...I had to.” 

Price moves just slightly closer to you, understanding shining in his eyes. “If that's what you really want.”

You nod, sliding your hands until they're resting on top of his. “It is.”

He turns his hands so can hold yours. “Saturday, then. Let me make you dinner and then we'll go from there.” 

Your stomach flutters at his words, skin tingling as his thumbs rub the backs of your hands. “You want to wine and dine me first?” You ask playfully. 

“Call me old fashioned.” He smirks. 

“Maybe just old.” You mutter, shrieking out a laugh as he wraps his arms around your waist, tugging you into his lap. The chair creaks precariously but you know he'd break your fall.

“You want to take that back?” He murmurs, your face inches from his. 

“Depends on what my punishment will be.” You say, your nose almost brushing his. 

He chuckles deep in his chest, lips brushing yours as he speaks. “You'll have to wait for Saturday to find out.” 

Taglist:

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[dreaming-medium]

Watch Your Six

Stray Kids Kinktober Masterlist

Sensory Deprivation - Han Jisung

Pairing: Han Jisung x Reader

Word Count: 14.8k

Summary: After training for years, you finally become a full fledged agent for KDOI, the Korean Division of Intelligence. Over time, each and every agent becomes something like a family member, including the high-tech nerd who has managed to put a smile on your face since day one. What happens when he's sent with you on his first field mission?

Warnings: Violence, smut (18+) MDNI

A/N: Kinktober is a state of mind. I know its January idc lol I will finish the list of prompts even if it kills me

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

Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. 

The sound your sneakers make on the treadmill reverberates through the gym. The expensive, high tech plastic mask strapped to your face fogs up with each exhale and clears with each inhale. 

To your right, a man holds a clipboard, glasses covered eyes watching your vitals displayed on the monitor hooked up to the mask and other various wires clipped to your body. 

You’ve been running for about an hour straight, but your breathing is still even; and just by glancing down at the screen, your heart rate looks the same. 

For months, you’ve been training with the federal agency to be one of their field agents. Countless nights were spent pushing yourself to the limit, physically and mentally. 

Today was your final evaluation before becoming a full-fledged agent. You were selected out of the hundreds of trainees to test to move on. 

It was a great honor, all your hard work was finally paying off. 

Maybe you’ll get your first mission after this! 

If you pass. 

A small bead of sweat drops down the side of your face. 

Bored, your eyes wander over to the man studying your every heartbeat. 

The thick rimmed glasses that sat on his face have slid down his nose a bit. His lips seem to sit in a constant pout thanks to those pudgy cheeks of his. 

Choppy, fluffy brown hair sits on his head like a mop. You can tell he’s run his fingers through it more than a handful of times to get it out of his eyes. 

A crisp white lab coat rests over a hoodie and khaki pants. A few different pens and instruments sit in the pocket under an embroidered ‘J’ .

You’ve seen him around the trainees once or twice in the years you’ve been here. From what you’ve gathered, he was one of the technical experts, providing countless gadgets and gizmos for the field agents to use. 

The guy that would give the secret agent a lipstick taser before embarking on their world class espionage mission. 

He’s pretty and smart— what a lethal combination. 

When the man looks back up at the treadmill, your eyes flick back to dead ahead of you. 

Reaching forward, he hits the stop button on the treadmill and jots down a few notes on his clipboard, a tiny smile pulls at his handsome face. 

The treadmill comes to a gradual stop and so do your legs. One hour exactly sits on the clock. 

Nervously, you look down at the screens, to his monitor, looking at anything you can. 

“You did extremely well, 586.” There’s a happy tilt to his tone while he scribbles down some more notes, flipping the page, then writing some more. “You can take the mask off now.”

Nodding, you gently take the mask off your face and drape it over the top of the treadmill. 

“I have one more examination for you.” He clicks a few buttons on the computer to the side.

Patiently, you stand there waiting for instruction. 

He looks up at you with amusement glinting in his big, brown eyes. “You don’t need to be so stiff with me, 586, that’s not part of the tests.”

Your shoulders relax and sag forward a bit. “Sorry, I’m just a bit nervous.”

“Understandable.” He grabs a hold of the cart with the machines on it and rolls it to the side. “Most, if not all, trainees are during their examination. I can’t remember a trainee that wasn’t nervous— well, maybe M, but he’s a special case.”

“Are you J?” you ask, looking down at his lab coat. 

“I am,” he answers and steps closer to the treadmill.

He reaches forward and unsnaps the wires hooked onto the leads on your chest. The sticker part stays on, but the wires are removed. Which means you’ll probably be hooked up to another machine soon. 

“I’ve seen you around before,” you say to him, studying his face up close. 

“I’m always around everywhere,” he jokes, unhooking more wires. “I don’t think there’s a square inch of this agency I haven’t seen.”

“Are you a field agent?”

He scoffs. “No, not me. I could never handle that.”

“But you’re an agent.”

He moves his head side to side. “Of sorts, yeah. B needed a tech guy, so technically I’m an agent. But if you were to send me on a mission, I might cry. I leave those sorts of things up to C or S, or any one of the other agents. Just not me.”

You nod with a small smile of your own. 

“Follow me.”

Following his orders, you step off the treadmill and follow after him out of the gym. 

“Is there only one of each letter?” you ask.

J laughs. “Actually, yeah.” He leads you towards a side room, it looks like an interrogation room with a large contraption on the center of the table. “It’s easier that way.”

He motions for you to take a seat across the table. 

“And unless you fail this psych evaluation, I believe we’re going to be back to 26 again.” J starts fiddling with the machine, pulling wires and leads off the top. 

A happy pang goes through your heart. Thank god he hasn’t hooked up the heart monitor yet, he would’ve seen it skyrocket. 

“You think?” Nervously, you shift around in the chair. 

J chuckles. “I do. I haven’t seen a perfect exam like this in a while. Plus, we saw all the extra training you were putting in.”

Your mouth opens a bit in shock. J looks over at you, holding the wires ready to snap to the leads on your chest. 

“We have eyes everywhere, 586. Did you really think we didn’t see that?”

An embarrassed flush crawls on your neck and turns your ears red. “Of course, I know that.” 

Again, he chuckles and snaps all the wires to the leads. His fingers are warm in contrast with the cold air of the exam room. Each time his knuckles brush against your skin the feeling lingers. 

He places a strap around your head that has two metal leads pressing into your forehead. Even more wires from that strap lead down to the detector. 

J looks down at the wires and then turns on the machine. It whirrs to life and a needle starts scribbling out your heart rate on the top. 

It’s a lie detector. Of sorts. It looks like more than that. 

You’re not going to pretend to understand anything, though. That’s his job. 

His eyes watch the needle, he then reaches forward and clips a small cuff on your finger— a steady beeping follows it. 

“There we go,” he mutters to himself and takes a seat across from you. 

J shuffles papers around on the clipboard to rearrange them. 

A large mirror sat on the wall behind him. There’s no way that’s not one way glass. Is there anyone on the other side watching your evaluation? Or is it just the two of you? Is there another higherup keeping track of your answers? Maybe it’s B? Or maybe other agents are spectating to see how you are. 

You would be working closely with them, after all. If the roles were reversed, you’re sure you would watch. 

“Ready?” J’s voice interrupts your thoughts. 

Your eyes snap to him and you nod. 

“Is your name Y/N L/N?” he asks, looking down at the clipboard. 

It’s been so long since you’ve heard your real name. Two years? Yeah, two years. You’ve only been referred to as 586 since you joined. 

“Yes.” 

J looks at the contraption for a few seconds, taking note of the way it moves. He makes a small tick on the paper. 

“Can you verify your date of birth for me?”

You do as he says, saying it like second nature. Again, he repeats the same motion of watching your heart rate and making a small tick. 

The questions start out simple. Where were you born? What are your parent’s names? Do you have any siblings? All questions that you would make a security question for your bank. 

“Now, let’s get to the real questions. Just answer honestly and you have nothing to worry about, okay, 586?” J’s voice is calm and smooth. 

Something about this guy makes you want to tell him everything regardless of if you’re hooked up to several machines. 

“Have you ever been contacted by an external government agency prior to enlisting in KDOI?”

KDOI: The Korean Division of Intelligence. Your dream job since you were a young girl. 

“No.”

After your answer, J watches your heart rate for even longer than before. He makes a tick on the clipboard. 

“Have you ever been contacted by an external government agency after enlisting in KDOI?”

“No.”

Another tick. 

“Have you ever participated in an organized event that openly opposed KDOI?”

“No.”

Tick. 

“Have you ever had malicious thoughts about KDOI or the agents working within it?”

“No, quite the opposite. I admire KDOI.” You add the last part with a sheepish smile. 

J grins when he makes the next tick on the paper. 

“Next section…” he murmurs. “Have you recently had thoughts of suicide?”

“No.”

Tick. 

Question after question comes from his mouth. You answer honestly to each of them, not even hesitating to let the reply leave your lips. 

“Did you have thoughts of suicide prior to enlisting in KDOI?”

“No.”

Tick. 

“Do you ever have thoughts of harming others?”

“No.”

Tick. 

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

“N- what?” Your eyes widen and you stare at him incredulously. There’s no way that’s on the evaluation. 

J feigns ignorance and points down to the clipboard. In exaggerated movements, he motions down to it and shrugs, puffing air in his cheeks and just making a meal out of this fake performance. 

“I can’t believe it either but there it is. ‘Do you have a boyfriend?’” 

You tongue your cheek and smirk a bit. “No, J, I do not.”

J nods and scribbles down more than just a tick while looking at the heart monitor. “Interesting…” 

He makes a few last notes before his eyes widen and he looks up at you, pointing his pen in your direction. “No girlfriend either, right?”

You roll your eyes, “No, no girlfriend either.”

Isn’t this an official evaluation? For a government official secret organization that grants people a license to kill? 

He asked you if you were single immediately after asking if you’ve had thoughts of suicide. Is this guy for real?

You slow blink at him while he finishes up the form on his end. 

“Well!” he exclaims happily, hitting the clipboard on the metal table. You don’t even flinch. “I believe we’re all finished here.”

Your heart squeezes with nerves. 

J stands up from the table and rounds the table towards you. 

So badly you want to ask for the results of your exam. Are you in? Did you pass? Are you an agent?

“B needs to sign off on all the paperwork,” J trails off, his hands reaching forward to unhook all the wires from the leads stuck to your skin. “But… I don’t think there’s any issue with me welcoming you to the agency. Officially.”

Since the heart monitor was still hooked up, you can hear the needle suddenly spike and scribble large peaks on the paper. 

J turns his head to look at it. An amused smirk crosses his face and a chuckle huffs through his chest. “Funny,” he says to himself and then turns back to you. 

Sheepishly, you look away from him. 

“That’s what gets your heart rate to spike?” J sits on the corner of the table and folds his arms across his chest. 

You bite your cheek and avoid his eyes. “Well, this has been my dream job since I was a young girl; so, yes, you alluding to me becoming an official agent would raise my heart rate.”

J scoffs. His warm fingers suddenly grab your face, thumb on one cheek and his middle and pointer finger on the other. He turns your head to face him.

When your gaze snaps to his face, you see that there’s a cocky smirk on his face but his eyes are focused down on the heart monitor. The needle stays steady much to his obvious distaste. 

He sucks teeth in disbelief. “Really?”

“Is this another test?” your voice comes out muffled due to him holding your cheeks. 

J rolls his eyes with a frown. “Yeah, let’s go with that.” He releases your face and slides the strap off your head.

The leads on your chest are soon to come off after that. J is careful not to rip the sticky pads off your skin too fast so that it doesn’t sting. He rubs the site with a bit of rubbing alcohol afterwards to get rid of the residue. 

“How long have you been at the agency?” you ask. You’re curious about him. 

He defeats all the ‘Secret Agent’ stereotypes. He’s personable and warm— and a bit flirtatious. He’s not at all the cold, all-business type you were used to. That’s how more than half the trainees were. 

It’s not that you were cold, no. You just kept to yourself and worked hard. 

And you made sure your personality didn’t fade during that time either. 

J’s nose crinkles up while he thinks. His hands slow down in the process. “Hmm,” he hums. “Maybe four years now? Yeah, sounds about right.”

Your eyes widen. “Four years? How old are you?”

He smirks. “Don’t you know never to ask a young man his age.”

“I guess if you’re not going to tell me…” you trail off. “I’ll just say twenty eight then.”

“Twenty ei—!” he stammers and takes the last lead off your chest. “I’m twenty two!”

“Wasn’t so hard was it?”

J grumbles and turns around to finish putting the machine away. But there’s an amused tilt to the corner of his puffy lips and a playful glint in his eye. 

“So you started when you were eighteen?”

“Yep.”

“Child prodigy?”

“Taken right from high school.”

“Impressive.”

J laughs under his breath. “Everyone seems to think so.”

“You don’t?”

“Eh.” He shrugs. “Everyone here is a prodigy of some sort. It’s easy to blend in and somehow appear mediocre when surrounded by Korea’s most elite minds and bodies.”

“I don’t think you’re mediocre.”

“You haven’t met everyone else yet.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to answer again. J grabs your clipboard and takes the papers off it, handing them to you. 

“Bring these to B, he has to sign off on the final enlistment.” You take the stack from him. “The guard outside the door will bring you up to his office.”

You look down at the papers, your heart rate picking up faster and faster the more you think about it.

J puts his hand on your lower back and ushers you towards the door. It tingles at the base of your spine. He reaches in front of you and opens the door, motioning for you to exit first. The hand on your lower back twitches and it feels like he almost scratches it twice before urging you forward and dropping it. 

It’s weirdly comforting. 

It doesn’t feel weird at all. 

You turn back to look at him, “Thank you, J.”

He smiles. Those round cheeks get even bigger when it happens. 

“Welcome to KDOI, X .”

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

Two years goes by in the blink of an eye when working with a government agency. Especially when a majority of your assignments can take anywhere from a week to two months at a time. 

The agents you work with are the only constant in your life. Other faces flitter in and out of your life like leaves falling off trees. You don’t grow attached to anyone outside of this organization, you can’t afford to. 

You’re not complaining, not at all. You love the life you have now. It’s everything you ever wanted. 

Everyone at KDOI is a family, you’re all each other has. It’s an unspoken, special bond. 

When you first started, you were welcomed in with open arms. Obviously, some agents were warmer than others at first— or maybe it’s just that some were better at first impressions than others. 

Maybe other people would have been upset with M’s standoffishness when you first introduced yourself. But, after a hot coffee appeared on your desk not even five minutes after complaining about being cold to him and only him, you knew he wasn’t detached and icy at all. 

Other agents, like F, have been nothing but a ball of sunshine. He was the one you ate lunch with every single day while you were at the agency. Whilst sitting by yourself in the cafeteria on day one, he took it upon himself to plop himself in the seat right across from you. 

H is your favorite agent to go on long assignments with. He never fails to be a constant source of entertainment and intelligent conversation— with the occasional stupid ass comment that makes you question where the man you were just talking to went. 

Slowly but surely, you’ve also started learning their real names. Learning someone’s real name was apparently the equivalent of leaving you in their will around here. 

There was a time and place to refer to them as their real name. It was a line you tiptoed constantly. 

Surprisingly, it was M who told you his name first: Minho. It was completely unprompted too. It was in the jet returning from a three week mission where you had saved him from at least five different gunshot wounds by tackling him to the ground. 

The others trickled in afterwards. 

Y, or Jeongin, was shocked when you didn’t know his name. And immediately told you afterwards with a cute, wide smile on his face. 

Even though every single agent has become a part of you, one particular agent seems to have captured a larger part of your soul than the others. 

“J,” you say casually, slipping behind him to stand on the other side of his cluttered workbench. 

Jisung. He had told you his name when you had lingered in his workshop late one night, not wanting to go back to your dorm quite yet. 

“Hello, X,” he grins without looking up at you. The glasses on his nose have fallen forward.

His laptop is his primary focus, several wires are running from the computer to a tiny little gadget that looks no bigger than a cell phone. It has a small LED screen with different colored pixels bouncing around it. 

Jisung’s workshop was one of your favorite places in the agency. There was always music playing, a computer always had some sort of TV on silent with the subtitles on, and there were always snacks everywhere. 

You consider it a second dorm, really. As soon as you’re done training for the day, you usually find yourself here.

“When did you get back?” he asks, clicking a few keys and looking over at the gadget, then back to his computer. 

“Maybe two hours ago?”

“And it took you this long to come say hi?”

“I had to shower.”

“ And you didn’t invite me?” his cheeky smile gets bigger. 

You smack the back of his head, the glasses fall even more. You’re surprised they don’t tumble off his face.

If one thing has remained constant since your exam day, it’s the relentless flirting. The guy can’t go more than five minutes without saying some sort of teasing comment. 

It should bother you. 

But it doesn’t. 

At this point, you’ve gotten quite used to it. If he ever stopped, then you might be a bit concerned. You might even miss it. 

But you would never tell him that. 

Jisung makes a tiny ‘gah’ noise and rubs the back of his head in fake pain. He pushes his glasses up his nose and looks over at you. 

“I missed you so much and the first thing you do is hurt me,” he whines. 

“I wasn’t gone that long.”

“Two long months without my girlfriend.”

“ Not your girlfriend.”

He clutched his chest through his baggy black hoodie. “Another wound.”

You cross your arms and giggle a bit. “Well get used to me not being here. B is sending me on another assignment tomorrow.”

Jisung frowns. “I know, he asked me to be at your debrief tomorrow morning.” He lets out a whine. “You just got back! Usually you’re around for at least two weeks in between missions.”

Shrugging, you look around the room. The digital clock on the wall read 10:29 PM. He’s usually the only one in here past 5:30, he tends to lose track of time easily when working on projects. 

“It’s part of the job,” you say casually. 

Jisung grumbles again, looking down at his laptop once more. “Yeah, well it sucks. Everyone’s always coming and going. Meanwhile I’m stuck here all day every day.”

“I thought you didn’t do field work.”

“I don’t . I just also hate that I’m trapped here while everyone gets to travel with one another.”

You narrow your eyes. “You do know we’re not sightseeing, right?”

Jisung balks. “Of course I know that.” He pauses. “But I did see that picture that you and Changbin took at Buckingham Palace.”

You bite your lip to stop the smile. “Not my fault it just so happened to be by our hotel.”

“Bang said if we had a Christmas card he would use that picture.”

The smile you’re fighting gets even bigger. You hesitate before speaking up again. “It’s a good picture.”

Jisung’s head drops and he places both of his hands on the table. “See what I mean?” he groans. 

“Just tell Bang that you want field work.”

Jisung’s head shoots up and he stares at you with wide eyes. “I would die in the field!”

“You would not. One of us would be there to save your hide. You really think Minho would let you die?”

“I think he would load the gun himself.”

A laugh bubbles up in your chest. Uncrossing your arms, you turn around and lean against the table. 

“Ji, we would make sure you were safe if you were to come out in the field with us. It’s our job.”

“Your job is to carry out the mission.”

“I wouldn’t give a damn about the mission if your life was on the line.”

Jisung’s mouth snaps shut. His eyebrows fly up his forehead. 

The two of you stare at each other for a long moment. Out of the corner of your eye, you see his knuckles turn white from gripping the counter so hard. 

His Adam’s Apple bobs with a gulp. 

You shouldn’t have said something like that, shouldn’t you? Your job is to carry out government missions. Personal feelings should never be put first, you know that. 

So why did you say that?

Fuck, you shouldn’t have said that. 

The shock on Jisung’s face quickly morphs into a cocky smirk. It’s a mask. You can see in his eyes he’s still a bit shocked. 

“I knew you were in love with me.”

Groaning, you roll your eyes and push off the table. “I’m going back to my dorm to sleep. Goodnight, J.”

Your hand slides to his lower back and you scratch twice over his lab coat and hoodie. 

Ever since your exam day, the two of you do this small gesture to each other all the time. It could be when he passes behind you in the cafe line or comes up behind you in the training room. It’s such a tiny, personal gesture. 

Sometimes on the coldest nights in the field, you’ll find yourself aching for that small touch.

“You’re so head over heels in love with me, X!” he calls after you, again, clutching at his heart and overacting like he’s swooning. 

“I’m leaving!”

“You just got here!” he whines. 

“Bye.”

“I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you walk away, X!”

“Night!” you repeat, letting the door shut after you. 

You walk down the hallway of the agency with a goofy smile on your face. 

“Idiot,” you mumble to yourself. 

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

B’s office was at the very top of the large building, the windows overlooked the entirety of Seoul. Everything inside the office exuded money and power. The wood of the bookshelves was black and sleek and always dust free. 

Inside the office was so large there was an entire sitting area with two sofas and two loveseats around a coffee table. 

There was always a bergamot candle burning on a side table there. 

It was just about 10 AM when you stepped inside. 

“Ah, X, thank you so much for coming in.” B stands up from his large desk chair to welcome you in. 

Bang Chan, the leader of KDOI, and the most unassuming man you’ve ever met. When you brought him your final exam paperwork that fateful day you thought you were in the wrong office. 

This whole time you were expecting a wrinkly old man, not a twenty-something with dimples. 

But, at this point, you’ve learned to not be surprised by anything anymore. 

Maybe you were surprised at the fact that the other man in the room made no move to even look at you. 

Jisung sat in the other chair in front of the desk, his face sheet white. Both of his hands are gripped in tight fists on top of his pants. 

Your warm smile fades from your face as you take in his ghastly expression. 

“What’s going on?” you ask. 

Chan’s lips form a tight line as he motions to the chair for you to sit in. “I was going over your next assignment with J before you got here.”

“Apologies, am I late?”

“No, not at all. I had J come in a little early to talk to him one on one.”

You glance over at Jisung who looks like he hasn’t even blinked. Alarm bells are going off inside your head. Not even a nod in your direction?

“What’s this assignment about, B?” You look back to your boss. 

He slides a manilla envelope across the desk to you, you take it without a second thought. Chan picks up a tiny remote off his desk and presses a button. Shades slowly come down over the window, bathing the room in darkness. Another beep on the remote and a holographic screen projects from the floor next to the desk. 

Both you and Chan turn your chairs to go over the debrief, Jisung stays still. Part of you wants to snap your fingers in front of his face to see if he’s still alive or not. 

Instead, you focus on your job. 

“I know you’re used to more recoup time, but I’m afraid this assignment is pretty urgent.” Chan clicks the remote. A grainy CCTV picture is displayed on the screen. “The international gang you’ve been dealing with lately, the Ice Crows, have shown their face again.”

Chan zooms in on the image. Several higher ups of the gang are getting out of a black SUV. They’re all dressed in fancy suits smoking cigars. 

The last time you dealt with them was about five months ago when their trail had gone cold over in Canada. 

“When and where was this taken?” you ask. 

“Yesterday. Paris. Where you and J will be headed after this.”

Your head snaps over to look at Chan. 

With Jisung? No wonder the guy looked like he was eight inches from death!

Your eyes slide to the engineer, he’s still staring forward. A cold sweat on his brow. 

“J is coming with me?”

Chan points your attention back to the debrief. “Allow me to continue.”

You spare one last look Jisung. The poor guy is shaking in his boots. Your hands itch to reach out and comfort him, but you have to remain professional. 

That’s for after the debrief. 

“There’s an auction being held at the Palais des Congrès. Several large and important pieces are being shown there. Including…” Bang switches the slides and displays an expensive painting. “The Refuge, which was stolen no more than two months ago by the Ice Crows. They’re putting it up for auction when it belongs back in Korea.”

Your eyes narrow. “This seems like a pretty rookie cut and dry assignment, B. You need me to get the painting back. I don’t understand why J has to come with me, he doesn’t do field work.”

The conversation the two of you had the previous night echoes in your mind. 

B nods. “I know. Let me get there, X.” He switches the slide to display the floor plan of the museum. “This convention center is rather high tech, as you can see. It’s equipped with blockers that don’t allow any outside waves to make it past their walls. Any and all technical communication has to come within the building.”

“So, you’re sending J with me because he’s the only one that can operate field equipment? S can operate simple transmitters and trackers.”

“It’s more than that, X. The painting will be behind several different firewalls and security systems that not even S can hack through. J needs to be with you and he needs to be in that building.”

You take a deep breath and look over at Jisung. His hundred yard stare has moved from the window and is now focused down on his lap. 

“He’ll be in your hotel room the entire time. You’ll be doing the recon and walking through the convention center to get where you need to be.”

Jisung pulls his lips between his teeth. His body finally came back to life. “I won’t need to leave the room?” His voice is hoarse. 

“No,” Chan answers quickly. “Not until you’re leaving to come back home.”

Jisung shifts on his chair, unfurling his fists and swallowing thickly. 

“I understand your apprehension, J, I do. But I need you on this.”

Jisung watches him closely and then offers a weak nod. He glanced over at you. 

“I wouldn’t put you with X unless I was sure that she would watch your six.”

You nod and steel your expression. “I won’t let anything happen to you, J.”

Color returns to J’s cheeks at your words. He gulps and takes a deep breath, his shoulders rolling back and remaining stiff.

“Okay,” he says softly. “Okay, I’ll do it.” He’s more confident the second time. 

“Good.” Chan clasps his hands together. “Stay safe, agents. Amusez vouis bien!”

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

You and Jisung were the only ones inside the cabin of the agency’s private jet. It took off the runway only about four minutes ago. 

The brunette sat across from you, his eyes focused out the window at the clouds below. His posture is anything but relaxed. He’s sitting ramrod straight in the large cushioned chair. 

You don’t think his muscles have released since you both were in Chan’s office. Even through the thick layers of his comfortable traveling clothes you can clearly read his uneasy body language. 

“You okay?” you ask gently.

“No,” he mutters back. Duh.

You bite the inside of your cheek, completely unsure of what to do or say. This was never a part of your training. Maybe you should’ve picked up a copy of ‘ Comforting Friends for Dummies ’ when you had the chance. 

Killing targets? Easy! 

Provide detailed surveillance on a suspicious person? Done! 

Soothe an anxious friend? Not so simple. 

Jisung’s cheeks seem even puffier than usual, lips pursed in a pout. There’s no sparkle to his eyes like you’re used to. 

Taking a deep breath, you lean back in your seat and look around the plane. You crack your knuckles, displaying your own nerves. 

“Do you know the best part of staying at hotels during missions?” you ask him to break the silence.

Jisung hums in acknowledgement, he continues to watch the clouds below. 

“You get to order all the room service you want— it comes out of the agency’s card.” You smirk. 

He shifts around in his seat. His hands that were tightly gripping the armrests relax a bit. 

“Last assignment I was on with Hyunjin, we were in a seaport town, the hotel made these bacon wrapped scallops… man… I ate so many I thought I was going to explode.” You pat your stomach. 

Jisung finally looks at you. “Bacon wrapped scallops?”

You nod and smile at him. “You’ll be in the room the entire time. Think of all the room service you’ll get to order.”

“I’ve never had bacon wrapped scallops.”

“It’s Paris, who knows what they’ll offer there. And it all goes on Bang’s card.”

Jisung finally smiles. It wavers for a second, like he’s sheepish to do it. It’s paired with a breathy chuckle. He looks down at his lap and lets his body fall forward a bit, elbows resting on his knees. 

His knee bounces anxiously and the exhales he lets out are shaky. 

“God, Y/N,” he sighs, rubbing his face. “I can’t help but freak out.”

“Understandable.”

“It’s my first time out in the field.” 

“I know.”

“What if something happens?”

You roll your eyes. “I would be more surprised if something didn’t happen, Jisung.”

His head shoots up. The color drains from his face. His pouty lips part a few times like he’s trying to find the right words to say. 

“But I’m prepared for it, Jisung.” You lean forward, mirroring his posture and take his hands between yours. “I’m prepared to take care of whatever pops up to keep you safe, okay?”

His jaw clenches and he stares deeply into his eyes. The hands in yours are so warm in stark contrast to your always-cold ones. 

“And if anything terrible happens then I’ll do whatever it takes to get you out of it. Trust in me, okay? I have to take care of KDOI’s resident nerd, after all.”

“Resident nerd…” he scoffs.

You bite the inside of your cheek. “Did I ever tell you what happened on my first mission with Minho?”

Jisung shakes his head. 

“It was supposed to be easy! The intel that KDOI had gotten was that there was going to be a large drug exchange somewhere in the States, Minho was sent with me. And my lord, our intel was off.”

Thinking about the memory makes you giggle to this day. 

“It was an international, high profile cartel that Bang has been trying to nail down for years. Well, during a small scout, I got my ass captured. I wasn’t watching my six like I should’ve.”

Jisung’s eyes widen. Obviously, he wasn’t told about this. It’s not like you enjoy flaunting the story around. 

“I had a gun to the back of my head, the leader of the cartel was screaming for Minho to come out from where he was hiding or he’d kill me. God, I’ve never been so afraid in my life. My first assignment and I already had a gun to my skull.

“Minho, being the amazing agent he is, found the right vantage point and took the guy out. I was able to evade the crossfire after that, but honestly those bullets weren’t what scared me, it was the idea that Minho was disappointed in me.”

He was the agent you looked up to the most after all. He was the one that all these great stories and tales were all about. Minho was the harrowing hero of KDOI who was able to ace every mission handed to him. 

“But he didn’t even say anything about it. Even when I apologized over and over again, he just shrugged and said it was part of the job. And I get it now. It is just part of the job. So don’t worry, okay?”

Jisung swallows once, chin dipping down with a stiff nod. He turns his hands around in yours to grasp your fingers. 

A playful smirk creeps up on his face. “I can’t believe it…”

Your head cocks to the side and you watch him closely. He’s studying your manicured nails, his thumbs swipe over the digits softly. It’s a tender movement. 

“What?” you ask. 

“I can’t believe how in love with me you are.”

You rip your hands out of his and swat forward just as fast. 

With a barking laugh, he moves out of the way of your slap. You swing again and again, each time his laughter gets louder and louder. 

“First last night, now this? Are you going to propose to me next?”

You know this is just his way of evading thinking about how scared he is, but if that’s what it takes to make him feel better, you’ll allow it. If a distraction is what he needs, then you’ll give it to him. 

“Love hurts!” he cries out when you land a solid smack on his arm. “They were right!”

“It’s going to kill you, that’s what it’s going to do.”

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

By the time you and Jisung get to the convention center and check into the hotel it’s nearing seven at night. The gala isn’t being held until tomorrow, so you both have some time to relax and settle in. 

It leaves Jisung plenty of time to set up everything he needs inside your hotel room.

You both checked in without a hitch, getting your keys and practically falling into the room. Jet Lag is pulling your eyelids shut and weighing down on your chest like an elephant.

Flicking the lights on, you blink your bleary eyes a few times, staring down at the large bed sitting in the middle of your hotel room. 

One king sized bed.

You’d love to say this hasn’t happened before but you never know what to expect on missions. There have been places where there’s been one bed, two beds, bunk beds , and even separate bedrooms once or twice. 

On one occasion Hyunjin slept on the floor since you were only given one twin sized bed and you were not about to share that tiny space with the man who likes to spread out all of his limbs and hog the blanket at the same time.

So, at this point, you don’t even care if there’s only one bed.

You shrug it off and plop your bag next to the dresser and let your body fall back onto the plush mattress with an ‘oof!’

Jisung, on the other hand, hovers around the doorway, both hands still gripping the two rolling suitcases full of his equipment. “I can sleep on the pull out couch,” he says thickly.

“Ji, it’s fine, we can share a bed, we’re both adults here,” you tease him. “As long as you don’t put your cold feet on me, I don’t care.”

“I don’t have cold feet,” he grumbles and wheels his suitcases towards the small table on the other side of the room. 

You let your eyes slide shut on the bed. The gentle hum of the air conditioner already lulling your brain to sleep. With how exhausted you are, it wouldn’t take much for you to give into the pull anyway. 

Jisung opens up the suitcases and starts unloading every piece of technology that he has brought with him. Various wires and computer parts thud against the wood of the table. 

He stops for a second.

“And how would you know if I did have cold feet?”

A laugh is punched from your chest at the abrupt question. It’s a deep belly laugh. “Let’s just say there is a loose lipped agent among us.”

Jisung pauses. “Minho said he wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“He wasn’t going to until I started teasing him about his purchase of fuzzy socks.”

“You were with him when he bought those?”

“I helped him choose between two different pairs.” You crack one eye open to look at him. “The purple pair was my idea.”

Jisung groans and slides his laptop open, the typing on his keys is a lot more aggressive. You giggle again at his outward display of frustration.  

You let your eyes close again, listening to him shuffle his things around the wooden table muttering in between movements about how his feet aren’t that cold, they’re just colder than the rest of his body. 

An easy smile finds its way on your face and you listen to his quiet ramblings until sleep finally washes over your tired mind. 

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

“You were right,” Jisungs voice says in your earpiece. “Room service is fucking awesome.”

A waiter with a tray full of champagne flutes passes by, you grab one as he strides by your side. 

“I told you,” you say quietly while bringing the glass up to your lips to take a sip. “What did you order?”

“I think the better question is what didn’t I order.” His mouth sounds full when he answers you. 

He’s up on the 14th floor of the convention hall while you’re downstairs at the gala in a sleek, red silk dress. Your hair and makeup done exquisitely well, beautiful silver heels match the diamond jewelry adorning your skin. 

You blend right in to everyone around you. 

“I heard that their oysters are fantastic.”

“I think that’s part of what I ordered.” You can hear several dishes being pushed around. “Yep, right here. Although, they don’t look as appetizing as I thought.”

“They’re not really a lounge snack.”

“For rich people they are.”

The mission started about an hour ago when you made your way into the main event hall. The auction for the painting is going to begin in about another hour. 

Your first task of the night is to locate the painting before the auction and place a minuscule tracking device on it to locate later once it’s sold. 

There was only one way you knew to get close enough to The Refuge. 

“Oh. Three tables back to your 8 is your first target of the night, X.”

Paternino ‘Pink Panther’ Cardi. One of the Ice Crows inner circle members. He can’t resist swiping whatever paintings he can get his grimy fingers on; but, he also can’t resist bragging to an attractive woman. 

You turn nonchalantly to find him already eyeing you up with dark eyes. 

He’s your typical mafia member. In fact, if you had to draw a cartoon of a mobster, it would look like Paternino. 

You hold his searing eye contact while taking another sip from your champagne. The mobster lowers his chin and lets his tongue dart out to lick his lips. 

At first, seduction wasn’t a part of the job you particularly excelled at. But after doing it for so long, it comes naturally. 

Batting your lashes, you smirk at him and then turn to walk towards his table, your hips swaying in the process. Maybe you exaggerate your movements a bit, but it has the exact effect you need on Paternino. 

He’s sitting at a large round booth all by himself, legs spread wide in a show-of-power manner. A large swig of whiskey is taken out of his glass before you get to him. 

“Don’t you know that a beautiful woman such as yourself deserves a better drink than the venue provided champagne?” He motions to the booth seat next to him. 

You place your glass on the table and slide gracefully next to him. The effort you put into this is going to need to be quick, you don’t have long to locate the painting. 

“And I suppose a handsome man like yourself knows just what to order a woman like me?” Your voice is coy and seductively low. 

In your ear, you hear Jisung take a tiny, shaky breath. Does he know the intercom is still activated on his end?

Paternino slides towards you a bit more so now you can smell the expensive cologne wafting off him. It’s almost too overpowering. 

“A woman like you, hm?” He rests his arm on the booth behind your shoulders, lifting one hand to signal a waiter to come by. “Look into my eyes, let me see if I can guess your drink of choice.”

You rest your chin on top of your folded hands, your elbows resting on the table. His eye contact is intense and vivid, it makes your skin crawl. 

Paternino hums again. “A sapphire martini.”

“Nope,” Jisung says with a chuckle. 

You give a tiny, fake gasp. “How did you know?”

“I know a woman with taste when I see her.” He takes another swig of his whiskey while staring at you. “A sapphire martini for the lady.”

There must have been a waiter next to the table. You fight the urge to turn and look, instead opting to look at Paternino through your lashes. 

“Your turn, Beautiful. Why don’t you make an assumption about me?”

“I assume you’re an asshole with a tiny dick.”

Humming, you scoot even closer to Paternino, your fingers come up and walk up his chest to come around his tie. 

“I think,” you whisper lowly, coming closer to his own face, forcing your eyes to look down at his lips for a split second then back up at his eyes. “That you’re a powerful man around here, and that you don’t take no for an answer.”

His lips curl up in a cocky smirk. The arm that was previously on the booth, comes around your shoulders. His fingers feel clammy on your exposed skin. 

“Very observant, my lady. Anything else?”

The sound of a glass being delicately placed reaches your ears. You reach out and grab the martini glass without looking, bringing it closer to you.

“No, no, it’s your turn.”

He smiles. You’re so close to his face you can hear his exhales, smell the whiskey on his breath. 

You sip your own martini. God, it’s awful. You hate martinis. 

Paternino slides a finger underneath the spaghetti strap of your dress. “I think you would look gorgeous without this in the way.” He tugs on the strap. 

“Zero out of ten. Horrible pick up line. Try again.”

Jisung’s snarky words in your ear are oddly calming to your racing heart. He keeps bringing you down to Earth.

“Funny, I was thinking the same thing about your clothes.” You tug his tie. “The auction doesn’t start for some time. How about you show me somewhere private we can go and we can see if both of us are right.”

“Uuuuggghhhhhhh…”  

“I like that idea, I know just the place, Beautiful.” Paternino slides out of the booth and holds out his hand, which you grab a hold of gingerly to stand up and be led away from the main gala floor. 

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

It takes five minutes for Paternino to lead you to the room where The Refuge is being stored. It only takes you ten seconds to knock him out cold with one solid hit to the back of the head. 

His body hits the ground like a sack of potatoes in the dark storage room. 

“Fucking finally,” Jisung groans in your ear. 

“Sorry, it was the only way I knew to get back here.”

“That was torture, X. I’m never doing this again.”

You roll your eyes and pick up Paternino’s ragdolling body under the arms, dragging him across the room and stuffing him inside a storage closet with his arms and legs tied together and duct tape over his mouth. 

“Now, which one is The Refuge?” you mutter looking around at all the art around the room. There’s sculptures, painting, glass blown pieces, everything you would see in a museum. 

“I wonder if The Refuge is the only stolen thing in here?” 

Sighing, you walk around the room, trying to recognize anything. “Probably not. But it’s the only one we know about.”

You find the painting eventually sitting at the very back of the room covered by a large sheet. When you walk up to it, you take your earring out of your ear and slide the back off— which is where you were keeping the tracker. 

You tuck the tracker in the back of the painting between the canvas in the wood. It wouldn’t slip out nor would anyone notice. 

“Perfect.”

“I can see it on the map still, you’re all good. Now get out of there.”

“Anyone coming on the cams?”

“No, you’re clear.”

You take your other earring out and throw it in the garbage can by the door. They were fake anyway and you don’t feel like looking like a freak with one in. 

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

When you returned to the event hall, people were taking their seats for the auction, so you followed suit. Grabbing another drink from the bar before you sat down. 

“Vodka tonic?”

“Always,” you say under your breath. 

You watch the bartender make your drink with close eyes. 

Now you just needed to wait until the auction was over to get the painting back. Your job was half over. 

Through the earpiece, you can hear knocks on Jisung’s hotel room door. 

“More room service?”

“I… I didn’t order anything.”

Alarm bells go off in your mind. “Don’t answer it.”

Jisung stays silent for a few moments. You’re no longer watching the bartender, you’re focusing intently on what you can hear in your ear. 

“J.” You state, trying to get an update from him. 

“I think they’re gone.”

Before you can even think about being relaxed there’s a loud bang on the other side of the intercom and Jisung shrieks from surprise. 

“X! X, they’re in the room! X!” His voice shouts into your ear. 

You’re already running out of the event hall, your dress hiked up in your hands.

“J, there’s a gun strapped to the bottom of the table, use it!”

You can hear gruff voices screaming at Jisung not to move, that they’d kill him if he even twitched a muscle. 

“X, there’s five of them.” He whispers quietly. 

“J, listen to me, stay calm, I’ll be there in five minutes.” You burst through the stairwell and start climbing two at a time, even in your heels. The elevator would’ve taken too long. “Do what you need to stay alive, fuck the assignment. Stay alive.”

“X.” It’s a whimper and it stabs you through the heart. The yelling gets louder and louder. 

Jisung begs for mercy. You can hear the desperation in his voice, it pushes your legs to move faster and faster up the stairs. 

“Si—“

The earpiece goes dead after a gunshot. 

Your knees wobble and you lose your momentum. 

Oh my god, no, fuck, please. 

Reaching out, you grab the railing to keep your balance on one of the landings. 

“J?” you scream. “J, can you hear me?”

Nothing. Not a single voice comes through. Not even static.

Maybe they just shot the equipment. That has to be it. They didn’t shoot him. They wouldn’t. Right?

You steel your nerves and launch yourself up the remaining steps. By the time you reach the 14th floor, you’re not even winded. 

The long hallway is colder than the stairwell. You take off sprinting towards your room, sharply rounding the few corners that you come across. Right before your own stretch of hallway, you slow down to a walk. It kills you but you have to do it. 

In the distance, right in front of your room, you see two large men in black suits standing guard. They take notice of you immediately. 

“What are you doing up here, ma’am?” One asks as you walk closer. 

“My room is up here, honey.” 

He looks to his partner and then back at you. “Turn around and walk the other way.”

“Why?” you ask, only about ten feet away. 

“Just do it, sweet cheeks.”

Your eyebrow cocks and before he can react, you walk up and throw a sharp right hook into his jaw. The bone in his face cracks and he stumbles down onto the ground. 

His partner yells in surprise and starts fumbling for his gun. When his hand raises to shoot you, you grab his arm and aim his weapon down so when he discharges it, it shoots right into his partner. 

Then, you pull his arm so he falls forward into you. You swing the heel of your palm upwards right into his nose. With your free hand, you reach down and grab the tiny pistol that was strapped to your thigh. 

Before the second goon could recover, you shoot him right in the head. 

The sound of gunshots obviously alerted the remaining three gang members in the room. Two of them come barreling out into the hallway with their weapons drawn. 

Immediately, you shoot the first one in the head, he hits the ground before he even knows what hit him. The other gang member yelps in shock before you shoot him too. 

Within two minutes there are four bodies in the hallway.

Carefully, you walk into your hotel room, keeping your back against the wall and your gun cocked.

“Shut the fuck up,” a gruff voice says roughly. 

Jisung said there were five of them. The fifth must be the one holding him hostage.

Quietly, you inch closer and closer to the corner of the wall. Once you turn around, he’ll be right in front of you. 

You gulp and take one deep breath before coming around the corner, gun pointed forward. 

“I wouldn’t if I were you.” That same deep voice calls out. 

Your heart drops. 

Another typical looking crook is pointing his gun at the closed wardrobe doors in the corner of the room. 

Where is Jisung? Where is he? Is he in the wardrobe? He has to be inside the wardrobe. 

“Why don’t you drop the gun, sweetie.” The mobster says darkly. 

You stay still with the gun pointed at him despite his words. The trigger seems to burn your finger. It's aching to be pulled. 

Is Jisung in the wardrobe? Is he in there and you can’t see him?

Or is this guy trying to pull a fast one on you to get you to drop your weapon? 

Fuck, is Jisung in the wardrobe?

“I said drop the fucking gun.” He moves to pull the hammer back of his own pistol and you don’t hesitate even for a second. 

You pull your own trigger. 

He drops to the ground with a bullet wound directly in his head. 

You sprint across the room and rip open the wardrobe doors. 

Empty. 

It’s empty. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you repeat under your breath frantically. You blink your eyes over and over again hoping that he would suddenly appear. 

You even go so far as to open and close the wardrobe door three more times, each time more frantic. 

“Fuck!”

Where the fuck is he if he’s not inside this room? 

The equipment on the table has a bullet hole through Jisung’s main laptop but no blood anywhere near it. But his glasses are. They’re lying on the floor with a crack through one of the lenses. 

Did they move him to another location? He doesn’t have a tracker on him like you do.

With a yell of anguish, you turn and kick the dead mobster at your feet. His limp body rolls over and his jacket pocket falls open. 

A hotel room key tucked inside the pocket catches your attention. You crouch down and pick it up.

‘1833’ is written on the back of the key.

It’s not a great lead, but your legs are running out of your hotel room before you even think twice. Obviously they moved him somewhere else to lead you into their trap and it didn’t work. Not with how well you were trained. 

You burst through the door leading to the 18th floor, heeled shoes sprinting down the hallway towards where room 1833 would be.

As soon as you’re in front of the door, you click the hammer back of your gun and hold it out in front of you, swiping the key in the handle with your free hand.

The lock clicks open and you push the handle down slowly, trying to cause the least amount of noise as possible. All of the lights are off inside of the hotel room, save for one lamp. The yellow glow radiates on the wall.

There’s no noise.

Everything is completely silent save for the quiet hum of the air conditioning pumping through the room.

Until you hear a sniffle, a huff, and then another sniffle. 

Inching across the floor, you slide your back against the wall like you did previously, listening for any more key sounds that would alert you that there are more people inside the room.

Taking one last deep breath, you round the corner and point your gun forward.

Even in the dark you know exactly what you’re seeing. 

In the middle of the room stood Han Jisung; his hands tied together with a rope coming from the ceiling, a blindfold around his eyes and earplugs shoved into his ears. From here you can see the wetness from his tears being absorbed by the blindfold. There’s a gag tied around his mouth muffling tiny sobs.

You don’t allow yourself to fall victim to false security, you look around the room closely, making sure no one else is lying in wait for you to fall into yet another trap. 

No other soul is inside this hotel room with you.

Dropping the gun onto the bed, you cross the room towards Jisung as quickly as possible.

He must sense another presence in front of him, his entire body stiffens and another louder sob is swallowed by the gag. He backs up away from you as much as his restraints allowed– which was next to nothing.

“Jisung,” you say in relief. “Oh god.”

Without thinking twice about it, you reach around and brush your hand on his lower back, scratching twice. 

Jisung’s chest heaves with another sob, even through the gag in his mouth, you can hear him whimper your name. His entire body relaxes and he falls towards you, the ties on his hands tugging even more. 

You reach up and yank the gag out of his mouth. 

“X,” he rasps with a dry tongue. “Oh my god please say it’s you. I-I can’t hear anything— fuck, Jesus. Thank god you’re alive, oh god.”

You scratch his lower back again, looking at the restraints. How the fuck were you going to untie that knot? 

Jisung’s tongue darts out to lick at his dry lips. His weight leans into you as much as he can. It must’ve been horrifying to be tied up like this, he couldn't hear or see or scream for help. 

Gingerly, you reach up and cup both of his cheeks so as not to startle him. Even with how gentle you were, he still jumps in shock. 

“Everything happened so fast,” he rambled. “They shot out the laptop so the communicator was fried. Next thing I knew I had a bag over my head and I was being tied up.”

Using your fingers, you push the blindfold up his face to rest around his forehead. 

Jisung’s big, brown eyes blink and squint a bit before focusing on you. He searches all over your face, taking in every detail as if you’re a glass of water and he’s been crawling through the desert. 

His eyebrows pinch together and he gulps. 

“God, I’m always glad to see you, but now I’m really glad.”

You laugh under your breath, the stress from just the last thirty minutes alone lifting off your shoulders. 

He’s okay. 

Jisung is okay. 

Using your hands, you wipe the tear tracks off his puffy cheeks. God, he must’ve been horrified. 

He’s probably never going to go out into the field again. You look up at the restraints, analyzing the knot closely. You’re going to have to cut him down, there’s no way you’re untying that. He’s secured to a pipe that runs across the entirety of the ceiling. 

“You know,” Jisung starts. His voice already has that teasing tilt to it. “If you wanted me tied up this badly, all you had to do was ask, baby.”

Your eyebrows twitches. Mr. Humor-Is-My-Coping-Mechanism decides to show his face now of all times, huh? 

Slowly, you look down from his restrained wrists to his dark eyes. A smirk is already plastered on his face, his lips still wet from licking them.

“You must want me so bad, hm?”

With your own crooked smile, you tongue your cheek and make a ‘huh’ noise, it puffs through your chest. That’s how he wants to be, huh?

He can stay tied up for a little longer then. It’s not like anyone’s coming into this room nor do you have anything to do until after the auction. 

Really, you have nothing but time to kill!

You take a step backwards away from him and cross your arms over your chest.

His eyes widen when you distance yourself from him. “Wh…” His cheeks puff a bit as his lips purse in confusion. Jisung tugs on the rope still around his wrists. 

You cock your head to the side and stare at him with one lifted brow. 

The bed behind you dips down under your weight as you sit down on the edge. It gives you a perfect vantage point to watch Jisung grow more and more confused as to why you’re not cutting him down yet. 

Slowly, his ears start turning red, the flush crawls across his face and down his neck, disappearing into his black hoodie. 

“X,” he says hoarsely. “Aren’t you going to cut me down?”

You shrug, knowing no matter what you say, he’s not going to hear you. If he wants to tease you, you can tease right back. 

The gun on the bed beside you is picked up in your hand. You nonchalantly click the safety on and toss it to the side again.

He tugs even harder, the ropes chafing his wrists a bit. You watch as JIsung’s Adam’s Apple bobs with a gulp. The blindfold is pushing his bangs up in wild directions.

The helpless look on his face shouldn’t be making your blood pump this way. Excitement shouldn’t be tingling at the base of your spine from the power trip you’re getting from this. This is only teasing between two best friends, nothing more. 

It’s just teasing, right?

Right?

You cross one leg over the other, leaning back on your hands. The plush blanket underneath your fingertips feels cool and soft. It’s a complete contrast to the way your skin is heating up under Jisung’s desperate gaze.

“Aren’t you going to…” he trails off. Several times his eyes flick from yours down to your exposed leg. When you had crossed them, due to the slit up your dress, the entirety of your leg was exposed to the cool hotel room air.

“Going to what?” you ask him, exaggerating the movements of your mouth for him to understand. 

Jisung gulps again while watching your lips. He squints his eyes closed and tries to take a steadying breath in through his nose, his chin tilts back a bit.

You allow your gaze to wander down his body a bit. He’s always in relaxed clothing, including now. An oversized black hoodie draped over his shoulders with gray sweatpants on his bottom half.

Gray sweatpants that you now notice seem a little… tight .

Oh.

It seems as though you’re not the only one whose thoughts seem to be a bit… derailed. 

When you look back up at Jisung, he’s staring at you with slightly glassy eyes and a heaving chest. Nervously, his tongue comes out to lick his drying lips again. 

A tight band of tension stretches between the two of you; you can practically feel it connecting your bodies together. The hair on the back of your neck stands up.

Is he thinking the same thing you are? Is he allowing his mind to wander the way that yours is?

Slowly, you uncross your legs and stand up from the edge of the bed. 

Big brown eyes flick down to watch the movement absentmindedly, his lips part and a shaky exhale leaves them. 

Your hips sway from side to side with each slow step you take towards Jisung. 

The eye contact he makes with you is sharp; his thoughts being conveyed through them. He wants you, and he wants you bad. It’s like he’s practically begging for it with those brown puppy dog eyes. 

And you’ll be damned because you want it just as bad. 

There’s only so much of his teasing that you can take. Only so much desire the dam within your heart can take before it bursts. And right now, with how high your adrenaline has spiked, nothing is stopping you.

The last two years of nonstop flirting is taking its toll on your self control.

Licking your own lips, you look up at Jisung, a shaky breath coming out afterwards.

Your fingers come up and grab the blindfold that’s still around his forehead and tug it back down over his eyes.

“ Fuck, ” Jisung murmurs. Your face is so close to his you can physically feel the words splay out onto your own lips. 

With the gentleness of a butterfly landing on a flower, you brush your lips against his. Jisung immediately brings his face closer to yours, smashing your mouths together even more. 

A sensation you can’t quite describe washes over you. It has the same level of completeness that you had felt when you became a full-fledged agent; like you just did something that the universe has been waiting for you to do.

His pouty lips start moving against yours faster and faster with more urgency, like he can’t get enough of you, like he’s experiencing the same emotions that you are. Were you the piece he always needed too?

Both of your hands begin to explore. You cup his cheek with one while the other grabs at the front of his hoodie. He’s leaning into you so much that the ropes holding his wrists squeak as they tighten and rub.

With a teasing smirk against his mouth, you take a tiny step back. This way he wasn’t able to reach your lips but could still feel the heat from your body in front of him. 

A tiny whine leaves his throat as soon as you pull away. You watch as his lips chase after you just to be stopped by the ropes.

“Y/N,” he whispers, pleading. You lightly tap his cheek twice.

Pulling the collar of his hoodie to the side, you let your mouth hover over his neck. 

Since he doesn’t have sight or hearing, all of his other senses are on high alert. Jisung feels your warm exhales so close to his skin and squirms around, little noises leaving the back of his throat. 

You tease him more and more by letting your deep breaths fan over his flushed skin but never actually letting your lips actually meet with his neck.

Jisung pulls and pulls on the restraints, each exhale driving him insane. 

When your lips finally meet his neck, a long mewl exits his own wet mouth. His head tilts to the side to give you more access. Greedily, you let your mouth explore his soft skin. 

His hips buck forward into yours, his hard length grinding into your hip to bring himself some relief. Jisung whines again at the sensation.

At the same time, you open your mouth and suck down where his shoulder meets his neck. His body tenses up and his head tilts back in pleasure.

“Jesus, fuck,” he curses, grinding into your hip once again. “Oh, god. Shit– please, fuck, Y/N.” His incoherent babbling only increases in pitch and frequency the more you run your tongue up and down his neck, never going lower than the collar of his hoodie would pull or higher than his jawline. 

You let your free hand travel up to thread in his soft, chocolate brown locks of hair. You scratch at his scalp a few times, letting your nails drag along his head. A low moan emanates deep within Jisung’s chest, it almost sounds like a purr. His head leans back into your touch. 

“Oh my god,” he murmurs. Every noise that comes out of his mouth is louder than you expect thanks to the earplugs. “Y/N, please– oh fuck , kiss me again, please, oh my god, please, Y/N.”

Pulling away from his neck, you capture his lips in the middle of his babbling. The rest of his words are swallowed by your own mouth. His tongue darts out from his mouth to lick at your lips and coax yours forward.

Your own moans slip between kisses, Jisung can feel the vibrations against his mouth and they drive him absolutely wild. His hands ball up into fists; he wants to touch you so bad. 

“Y/N,” he says your name in between kisses. “Please, c-cut me down.” Your kisses travel down to his jawline. “I want to– Fu-huh-huck! ” You bite down on his neck harshly, sucking a bright purple hickey underneath it. 

Jisung rolls his hips into yours. You can feel how absolutely rock hard his cock is through his sweats. 

“N-Need to touch you. Hah! I’m going insane, Y/N.”

Begs sound so good coming from his lips. 

You run your hands down his chest to tease at the hem of his hoodie before sliding them underneath the fabric and up his bare chest. The muscle that greets you underneath it is a pleasant surprise.

The hard lines of his abs and chest run along the pads of your fingertips. He flexes and tenses under your touch.

Jisung throws his head back with a groan, his weight shifts around on his feet. It feels so fucking good . Every single touch to his body is heaven sent. 

At the top of his chest, you curl your fingers and rake your nails down his skin.

The wail that tears from his throat makes your heart rate pick up ten fold. It sends a lightning bolt of pleasure through your body. 

“Oh my god, please do that again! ” Jisung begs, his mouth hanging open as he pants over and over again. It seems like he can’t catch his breath. 

Who were you to deny him?

With a featherlight touch, you let your fingers trail up, up, up his body. The closer you got to the top, the faster Jisung’s breathing picks up. 

Right before you curled your fingers again, you smash your lips together in another searing kiss. When you claw down his quickly reddening skin, his cry is swallowed up by your own mouth.

You don’t stop your fingers on their downward descent, you tease the waistband of his sweats, letting your fingers curl around the top of the band and touching the taut skin underneath.

“Ah, hah.” Jisung pants into your mouth. He leans forward and sucks on your bottom lip, pulling it back for it to snap against your teeth. “I want to touch you so bad, Y/N, please .”

“Be patient,” you say against his lips. He doesn’t hear it, but he feels it. A pathetic whine responds to your words. 

You kiss his lips a few more times before dropping down to your knees in front of him. 

“Holy shit,” he breathes out. “Oh god, oh my god.”

You grab his legs with both of your hands starting at the knees and run them up his thighs, taking your time on your ascent. 

“Fuck, fuck , this is really happening.” Jisung gulps. He pulls harder and harder on the ropes. 

When your hands reach the top of his thighs, you run one closer and palm his erection over the top of his sweats. A deep, guttural moan is Jisung’s only response. Even through his sweats you can feel how his cock twitches in your grasp.

His hips buck into your hand when you squeeze him. “F-Fuck, I– Oh god– This is really happening and I can’t even fucking see it .”

You smirk. Maybe you should show him a small bit of mercy. Just a small amount. 

Leaning forward, you kiss his cock over his sweatpants. Jisung gasps and twitches again.

You stand up quickly, coming nose to nose with him. Your hands come up to cup his cheeks, they’re so warm from his flushed face.

“Y-Y/N,” he gasps. You peck his lips, letting them linger on his while your hands come up to his ears to take the plugs out. “Y/N,” he repeats on your lips.

“Hi, Jisung,” you breathe against his mouth before kissing him again, letting the earplugs drop to the ground.

You don’t linger for too long, you kiss down his face, down his neck, and then you fall to your knees once more.

“Jesus, Y/N.” 

You don’t tease him too much this time, you grab the waistband of his pants and tug them down, his rock hard cock finally coming out. His tip is red and angry. God, how can a dick look so pretty? 

Just as quickly as you got his cock out of his pants, you wrap your hand around him, pumping your hand up and down slowly. 

“Ohhhh my goood,” Jisung mewls. His thighs tense up and flex each time you stroke up and down. “Fuck yeah, Y/N. God, your hands are so fucking soft.”

You tighten your grip and Jisung whines. 

“Yeah? Does that feel good, baby?”

His cock twitches in your hand at the nickname at the same time a tiny whine escapes his throat.

“Does it?”

“Y-Yes,” he answers shyly.

“Louder, Jisung.”

“Yes, it feels good!”

“Good boy.” Without warning, you lean forward and take the entirety of him inside your mouth.

You can feel his knees buckle and if it wasn’t for the restraints keeping him suspended from the ceiling, he probably would’ve fallen to the ground. 

“Oh, oh m-my, f-fuck, Y/N!”

You’re relentless. You bob your head back and forth on his dick, letting your tongue swirl around the tip when you come up just to go back down and swallow him completely. Jisung’s hands are balled into such tight fists that his knuckles are turning white.

So many different pitches of whines, moans, and groans fall so easily from his lips. Compliments come out in between each one. 

“So good,” he cries. “I can’t fucking– holy shit.”

In some part of your mind, you always knew he would be vocal during sex– but never this vocal. He hasn’t shut up once. Not that you’re complaining, quite the opposite really. You fucking love every single noise that he makes. Each one sends a shock down between your legs. 

Too often you’ve been with partners that conceal how you’re making them feel, but not anymore. Jisung is making sure you know exactly how well you’re doing. 

“Such a perfect mouth, oh god. So fucking warm.”

You let your hand travel up his hoodie again, his abs are clenching and releasing over and over again with how hard he’s panting, you can feel each one under your hands. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” he pants as your hand goes up. “Fucking hurt me, yeah, please, scratch me, Y/N.”

God, the way he’s talking to you is fucking sinful. It’s perfect .

You scratch down his chest just as harshly as you did twice previously. 

Again, Jisung lets out a wail, his hips bucking and fucking his cock down your throat. You gag around him but keep him down your throat regardless.

“I-I-I’m gunna, holy shit, Y/N, I’m g’na– g’na—”

Now, you can’t have that yet, can you?

Quickly, you pull off his cock, letting yourself take a gulp of air. 

Jisung cries out from his ruined orgasm. “No! Shit! Fuck! Why?”

You look around the room while he throws his mini temper tantrum. There’s a small kitchen off to the side of the suite. 

As if you have nothing better to do, you meander over to it, looking around. 

“Y/N?” Jisung asks, hearing you walk away.

“Hm?” you respond.

“W-Where did you go?”

“Still here, baby, why?”

He shifts around, pulling on the ropes. The red color on his ears is getting deeper and deeper. “Just um– Why did you leave?”

You giggle. “Looking for something.”

You open one of the drawers, close it, then open another until you find what you’re looking for. It glints and catches your eye in the third drawer you check. You pick up the knife that was inside the drawer.

You’re walking back in his direction with the knife in your hand.

“D-Did you find what you needed?”

“Yep.”

With frightening grace, you reach up and slice the ropes holding his wrists in the air.

He almost drops to the ground, but you grab a hold of him before he has a chance to fall into the carpet. 

Jisung wastes no time, he grabs at your waist with both of his hands. Through the silk fabric of your dress, you feel the heat of his touch. It scorches into your skin and you wish he would brand his very handprints there.

His lips are already on yours again, feverishly kissing you as if you would disappear if he stopped even for a moment. He takes one second to rip the blindfold off his eyes and then he’s back on your mouth.

The hands on your waist don’t stay there long. They run all along your figure, up in your hair, over your neck, grabbing your ass, gripping your hips, he’s everywhere. 

You back up a bit, pulling Jisung with you until the back of your legs are about to hit the bed. Quickly, you spin the two of you around, pushing his chest so that he falls back onto the bed. 

When Jisung finally blinks the confusion from his eyes, his breath catches in his throat at the sight of you at the foot of the bed. 

You’re looking at him like you’re about to devour his very soul. Your hair is frizzy and tousled, the straps of your dress falling off your shoulders, your lipstick smudged over your puffy, kiss swollen lips.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he murmurs. His fingers curl into the blanket.

You straddle his legs and crawl onto the bed, hiking the skirt of your dress up enough for Jisung to see the strong muscle of your thighs. 

“There’s no way I’m awake right now,” he whispers, hands grabbing at your bare legs and running them up to push your dress further up your body. “I must have been shot. I’m in Heaven right now.”

With a sultry chuckle, you cup his cheek and let your thumb swipe over his lips. “I’m real, baby.”

“Oh my god.”

You reach down and take a hold of his cock, pumping him up and down a few more times. Jisung moans and fights for his eyes to stay open, he can’t get enough of the sight of your hand wrapped around him.

With your other hand, you reach down and pull your panties to the side, revealing your dripping cunt. 

“Holy fuck, you’re so wet,” Jisung whines. His fingers run up your folds, collecting your wetness on his digits and bringing them up to his mouth. He moans around his own fingers at your taste, his eyes rolling back in his skull. “Please, I need to–”

You cut him off by squeezing his cock. “Next time. I need you now .”

“Yes, ma’am,” he squeaks out. 

As if he would ever complain.

You line his cock up with your entrance, Jisung grabs your hips with both of his hands, his thumbs pressing against the bone so hard. His breathing is getting faster and faster with each passing second.

Slowly, you sink down on his cock.

Both of you moan out in unison. The stretch feels fucking marvelous inside of you. Jisung’s eyes roll back in his head once more. 

His moans dissolve into silence as his mouth stretches open in an ‘O’. He throbs inside you right before you lift your hips just to drop them again. 

“Oh god,” you moan. “Jisung, you feel so fucking good.”

“Move, please ,” he begs and you bounce up and down again and again. Each time you drop down, it shoots pleasure down through your thighs and into your toes.

You grab his face and smash his lips with yours once more. His tongue immediately finds yours. 

Jisung’s hands wander from your hips all the way around your body to grip your ass while you ride him, his fingers dig into the flesh, kneading it with each bounce. 

“Fuck, fuck,” he murmurs into your mouth. “Pussy so fucking tight.”

“Just for you.”

“O-Oh, fuck yeah . Just like that, baby.”

Jisung pulls away from your lips to kiss down your neck the way you did to him earlier. He takes his hands off your ass to pull the straps of your dress down your arms for your breasts to fall out of the top.

“Shit, baby,” he whines before taking a nipple in his mouth.

Moaning, you pull his hair tighter, keeping his face buried in your chest– not that he seems to mind. His eyebrows pinch together, moans vibrating against your chest as he licks and sucks at your nipple.

His other hand comes up to pinch and pull at the other. Each tweak and flick of his tongue makes your walls clamp down on his cock.

“Your cock feels so good, Jisung,” you moan, clenching on him again. “Stretching me so good, so fucking big.”

He moans, sucking a hickey on the underside of one of your tits. 

The pitch of both of your moans begin to get higher and higher the closer you get to your peaks. Jisung’s heels dig into the carpet and he starts fucking up into you.

“Fuck!” you cry out, holding him tighter. His thrusts are so much wilder than your bounces were. Each one fucks right into your g-spot. “Ji– Jisung, oh god!”

“Yeah?” He pulls away from your chest and looks up at you with half lidded eyes. “Does that feel good? Am I making you feel good?”

“Yes, yes! Keep going, Ji!”

Every single thrust is driving you wild. Everything about him makes you feel crazy, everything down to the sweat beading on his forehead.

He reaches down and presses his thumb against your clit, making you cry out. He rubs circles in the same tempo as his thrusts. 

Closer and closer you approach your own climax, his touch feels too good.

Jisung looks down, watching where his cock disappears inside you over and over again. The very sight of it makes his mouth go dry. 

He groans and falls into your chest. 

“Say it for me, Y/N, say it,” he pants into your neck. “Say you’re close. I-I’m going to fucking bust, say you’re close, I need you to cum on my cock. Need it s-so bad.”

“I am, I am,” you repeat like a mantra. Your own pleasure is making you feel inside, his cock is abusing your walls just right, his thumb on your clit adding an extra level of insanity. 

You pull more at his hair.

Close, close, close. It’s all you can think of. Jisung is enveloping all of your senses. He’s everything in your mind and body and even your soul.

“Gunna cum!” you cry out. “Cumming, cu– cumming!”

With just three more thrusts, your walls clamp down on Jisung’s cock, triggering his own release.

“Jisung, fuck!”

He bites down on your neck, crying out and grabbing you tightly with his free hand. He clings onto you like he would die if he let go.

Hot, sticky cum drips over your walls, leaking out around his cock.

Both of you are panting heavily, unable to move and detangle yourselves from one another. 

Slowly, you release your death grip on his hair, letting your nails drag along his scalp like you did earlier. He hums against your neck, his hands finding your hips again, thumbs massaging you over your dress.

The gentleness of his touch makes you clench around him, your cunt still going through the aftershock of your orgasm.

“Jeeesus…” Jisung moans out, a bit overstimulated. You giggle and pull back to look down at your best friend. He looks up at you with a delighted smile across his face.

You giggle and continue to comb through his hair. 

His eyes fall closed happily and he leans into your touch.

This should feel awkward. You should be having some sort of ‘post-nut clarity’ where you freak out for sleeping with your best friend, but you’re not. 

Right here, right now, you feel safe and content. And your relationship with Jisung feels the same– if not better.

“I knew it,” he hums.

You cock your head to the side. “Knew what?”

“You’re obsessed with me.”

Laughing, you lean forward and press a long kiss to his lips. “Yeah.” You kiss him again. “Maybe I am.”

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

“So J was captured and tied up in another room in the convention center?” Chan asks.

You and Jisung had safely returned to Korea with The Refuge about two hours ago. And, per protocol, you both immediately went to Chan’s office for a debrief.

“Affirmative,” you answer. 

“And you got him back, obviously. No problems after that?”

“No, sir.”

Jisung shifts on his chair next to you.

“Uneventful beyond that one hiccup?”

You tongue your cheek. “Yes, sir.”

Chan eyes the two of you curiously from the other side of his desk. But, the mission was complete and everything was done. There was nothing he needed to be wary of. For now.

“Understood. I’ll read about the mission more in your reports. You’re both dismissed.”

The two of you are leaving Chan’s office with thinly veiled smirks on your faces. Just as you’re about to close the door behind you, he calls out.

“Might want to cover the hickeys next time!”

[linopls]

kinktober day eighteen

voyeurism danceracha x fem!reader warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, oral (fem receiving), semi public, male masturbation, squirting 2.2k words

you weren’t a dancer, you could demolish anyone in just dance, but that was the extent of it. 

your boyfriend on the other hand was possibly the best dancer to walk this earth. 

you both have spent the past week in and out of practice rooms working on hyunjin’s next SKZ-PLAYER. although he couldn’t publicly announce your relationship, some strict company rules he has to work by, he thought by performing a number with you would be a way to show you off without explicitly saying so.

the problem is: you weren’t a dancer.

“you’re doing great, baby!” hyunjin says, tossing you your water bottle. “it’s all coming together i can see it.”

you sigh and take a huge sip of your water. “i’m losing it, jinnie! i’m struggling to remember it all and it's not smooth, it's choppy.”

“you’re overthinking it.” he places one of his hands on your cheek and presses a soft kiss to your lips. “let’s run it again.”

you sigh and sit down in one of the chairs in the middle of the room and hyunjin sits the other, you backs facing each other. hyunjin leans his head back on your shoulder and you turn your head to give him a peck on his sweaty forehead.

“we’ll do it with counts, m’kay?” 

hyunjin starts counting and his body moves naturally, nothing is too harsh or jerky. its like water the way his moves flow from one to the next. you’re staring at him in the mirror in such awe that you miss your entrance and he stops counting.

“babe,” hyunjin laughs. “stop staring at me and focus, you can look at me later.”

“i’m so sorry,” you say softly. “you’re just so memorizing when you dance i could stare at you forever.”

hyunjin steps in front of you and presses his forehead to yours. he rubs his nose against yours and places a soft kiss to your lips. 

“you’re cute. you know that, right?” he smiles and you blush. “now it’s my turn to watch you dance. get up.”

“w-what no!” you sputter. “it's like trying to teach a baby deer to walk.”

“y/n,” hyunjin whines and playfully stomps his feet. he grabs your wrist and pulls you out of the chair. 

hyunjin places his hands on your hips and starts the counts, guiding you through the steps of a specific section of the dance you struggle with. you try to move as fluidly as hyunjin.

“five, six, sev-” hyunjin counts and he spins you out but loses the grip on your hand and you fall back against the mirror.

“shit,” you groan, massaging the back of your head with your hand. 

“oh my god, y/n, i’m so sorry!” hyunjin runs up to you and cups your cheeks with his hands. 

“no it’s okay, i’m okay.” you smile reassuringly at your boyfriend. “got a tough skull, i promise.” 

you lean in to kiss hyunjin, his soft and gentle lips work perfectly in sync with yours. you place your hands against his chest and he slides his hands down to your waist, pressing his body against yours into the mirror. hyunjin swipes his tongue across your lips and you eagerly let him explore your mouth.

his hands wander to your ass, massaging and squeezing it gently. you slide your hands down his chest and under his shirt, your fingers hover over his abdominal muscles. hyunjin pulls away from the kiss for a second to remove his shirt, revealing his toned chest to you. you’ve seen him shirtless a million times, but everytime it makes you mouth water.

“hey, my eyes are up here, baby,” hyunjin teases, placing his fingers under your chin and lifting your head up to face him.

“we shouldn’t do anything here, jinnie. what if someone sees?”

“is that such a bad thing?” he smirks and kisses you again. 

you moan into his mouth and your eyes roll back in your head. the idea of someone possibly walking in on you and hyunjin is such an arousing thrill. hyunjin’s hands wander under your top, cusping your breasts with his large hands. you break the kiss for a second to remove your shirt as well and hyunjin begins to kiss down your jaw and neck. 

hyunjin continues his trail of kisses down your stomach, kneeling onto the floor in front of you. his fingers hook under the band of your yoga pants when a knock is heard at the door. you try to cover your front with your arms as you look up to felix and minho walking through the door. hyunjin turns his attention to the two men and sighs, laying his head against your stomach.

“forget we had practice at seven?” felix laughs.

“i did,” hyunjin says defeated.

“it’s okay, you two can continue. we won’t intrude.” minho smirks and sends a joking wink to you.

“you are intruding,” hyunjin sighs.

“hm, i guess so,” minho chuckles. “guess we’ll have a seat right here and watch then.”

the two boys sit on the couch bench across from you and your face goes red and you try to cover it with your hands before remembering that you're covering your torso. you look up to the ceiling too embarrassed to look hyunjin’s handsome friends in the eyes. 

“aww, looks like y/n would like for us to watch, right?” felix coos.

hyunjin lifts his head from your stomach and looks up at you, you aren’t looking at him but you can feel his lustful gaze burning into your skull. 

“can i?” hyunjin asks, looping his fingers under your waistband again.

you’re silent for a second. you look back at felix and minho and both send encouraging smiles.

“if you don’t want to, we’ll never speak of this again,” felix starts.

“and if you do want to, and halfway through you want to stop, the same thing applies,” minho finishes.

you look down to hyunjin, and just like you had imagined, his eyes blown out with lust. you have to admit, the whole idea sounds so erotic and hot. you nervously smile to your boyfriend.

“sure,” you whisper. “i trust you.”

with one swift motion, hyunjin slides your pants down your legs revealing your lack of undergarments underneath. you look back up to the ceiling again, the small gasps the three boys make fill you with embarrassment.

“you’re pretty, y/nnie,” felix giggles.

“say thank you,” hyunjin mumbles as he presses soft kisses on your lower stomach.

“thank you, felix,” you respond breathlessly.

“spread your legs for us,” minho suggests.

“hey,” hyunjin whips his head around to face his members. “you’re both just supposed to be watching, no instructions, just compliments.”

“we just want a better view. she’s very pretty.”

they way they speak about you as if your an exhibit makes your skin hot. you’d never been able to put on a jaw-dropping dance performance for them, but you can put on a show like this. and that gives you some confidence you didn’t know you had.

you lock eye contact with felix as you reach down to fully remove your pants, which have been sitting on your ankles. as you take them over you through them in his direction, his eyes go wide. next you lock eyes with minho and slowly drape your thigh over one of hyunjin’s shoulders.

“thank you, y/n.” minho smiles. 

hyunjin starts to trail kisses to your inner thigh, biting and sucking on the sensitive skin with the intention of leaving marks. the artist, your boyfriend, loves to look back on his hand-painted works, your thighs and chest, to admire his paintings, his deep purple and red hickeys.

his nose brushes over your clit and you whimper out, you hadn’t even realized how worked up this whole ordeal has gotten you and just how badly you wanted hyunjin to take you right here in front of his friends.

“jinnie, please,” you whisper, interlocking your fingers in his long, black hair. 

you look back down to your beautiful boyfriend on his knees in front of you. he makes everything he does look angelic, even if he’s committing a sinful act like this. he takes no time to flick the tip of his tongue against your clit, waves of pleasure being sent through your body. hyunjin’s hands rub up and down your thighs, soothing your nerves and fully focusing your attention on to him.

hyunjin wraps his soft lips around your clit and sucks hard on the sensitive bud. you moan loudly and arch your back off the mirror. he looks up at you through his eyelashes and you swear you could cum on the spot. his eyes stare into your soul with so much love and passion but also with lust that drives you crazy.

one of hyunjin’s hands part from your thighs and two of his fingers tease your entrance. as he slowly pushes half of his fingers in, you look back up to the two boys in front of you. you almost forgot they were there, hyunjin had you so immersed in focusing on him you had forgotten about the show you were supposed to be presenting.

your eyes wander between the two, you notice the tent that has formed in minho’s sweats and the bag strategically placed on felix’s lap. you smile at the two, your ego being fueled by the fact that the boys are aroused by watching you and your lover.

hyunjin’s pushes his digits deep inside you, curling his fingers up to the spot your own fingers could never find. he begins to quickly thrust his fingers in and out of your hole, the room being filled of your small moans and the sound of your arousal squelching around hyunjin’s fingers. 

“please don’t stop, jinnie,” you whimper, tightening your grip on his hair. hyunjin moans against your pussy and you feel yourself getting closer and closer to your release.

“you’re beautiful, y/n,” minho purrs. “is jinnie making you feel good?”

“s-so good,” you whine, bucking your hips up against hyunjin’s face.

felix’s eyes roll back in his head and he throws his head back against the top of the couch. minho sighs admirably and removes his sweatshirt.

an ounce of courage makes its way into your bodies and you look back and forth between hyunjin and his members. “can you three touch yourselves for me?” you ask softly.

hyunjin looks up at you again, eyebrows furrowed as he moves his hand to palm himself over his pants. you look up to find minho doing the same thing, his mouth opening slightly when his hand makes contact with his crotch. felix hesitantly moves the bag from his lap which reveals a clear outline of his cock in his shorts, you even notice a small wet patch of precum staining the fabric. 

the whole scene makes your knees weak, the three boys all turned on to the thought of you and all pleasuring themselves in front of you.

“so close, jinnie, please,” you moan, tangling your other hand into his hair.

hyunjin looks down and slides his hand into his sweats and frees his aching cock from its confines. you watch as he teases his tip with his thumb, smearing his precum all over the head. your eyes go wide as he begins to stroke himself and look back up to you. 

“gonna cum, please,” you beg.

what finally sends you over the edge is the view of both minho and felix sliding their own hands into the pants and watching them massage themselves to the sight of you. you grip the sides of hyunjin’s face and rut your hips against him as his fingers and tongue continue to fuck you through your orgasm. 

“holy shit,” felix gasps.

you look down to hyunjin and watch your release spill out of you. dripping down your legs and spraying onto hyunjin’s face, chest, and cock. hyunjin pulls away from your pussy once your legs start to shake and uses your release and lube to aggressively jerk himself to his own release. he locks eyes with you as he continues to fuck his fist.

you look up to the two boys across the room, both sitting with their mouths agape stilling palming themselves under their pants.

“look at me, y/n,” hyunjin says, his low voice sending chills through your body. as you look down you watch as hyunjin releases into his fist. spurts of white cum landing on his bare chest and your legs.

you look back up to minho and felix as the two release soft moans as well. felix covers his mouth with one hand as his hips thrust up in the air and he finishes with a muffled groan. minho is soon to follow, taking his cock out of his pants and pulling his shirt up to finish on his bare stomach.

“wow,” you sigh, eyes panning between all three boys. 

the four of you sit in silence for a while, all three trying to regulate your breathing patterns and cool yourselves off. minho is the first to speak.

“i think that was a successful rehersal,” he says softly, grabbing one of his sweat towels and wiping his stomach clean. “same time next week?”

you, felix, and hyunjin all chuckle softly as you all begin to wipe yourselves off and grab your things. 

“y/n,” hyunjin starts, coming up next to you as you grab your practice bag. “you’re an incredible performer. don’t think any different.”

live laugh love danceracha

@rockstrhanji @hyunjinhoexxx @mixtape-racha @euphoric-univers @haruharu-egypt @shit-why-what @twiggoblin @kookiesbunny @virgohannie @nataliee10 @ihrtlix @aaasia111 @lolli4me @lilcutieana @changbinsrightboob @hanjisunglover @chansducky10 @elissasimp @boi-bi-ahaha @lilquokka04 @anglerfishiey @sirenscall1031 @might-be-a-rat @jihyun2monster @kpflyn @samsmitty @imwithurmother @meilix @summer3sworld @mysweethannie @kittykattime @linoots @yaorzu-blog @sofiaeli 

@alemi-i @cupidsmoons @yoongles2025 @vixensss @chlooooop @lemontried @idkluvutellme @superiorbrownskinn @ana-stasssiaaa @amayaaseees @ilikecatsanddoritos @alnex05 @esairevmp @greysweaters-blog @sanzusfavgf @jutannies @faraonatojishady @hanniemylovelyquokka @chloeskzboomboom @quinnluvsmoney @burningupp-replies @aisha-md @jo-dinner @jeannie-beannie @httpsimmy @hazneezs @cuffier 

@dvbkie099 @il0v3skz @chrishak@quokkaaah @bex90997 @sheeshhhhfelixsworld @leeknowyah @tumadreposts @hyunniebunni @cipher-ipher @alice630 @jinnies-princess @bangtancultsposts @evrythinghqppened @rebellescauses-blog @juicypebbless @fawnpeaks @the-life-of-stella @lakoya @compersian @seung-mine @mal-lunar-28

[ma1dita]

love like a blister

the five stages of loving losing luke

a ‘partners in crime’ installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 4.7k 

summary: (post-tlt) set directly after lovers, or partners in crime; The one where you learn to mourn someone even if they're still alive. Loving him and losing him are one and the same; the aftermath of his betrayal. this work references a lot of previous works in the series! (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader)

a/n: yeah… yall been asking for this so buckle up. luke is not present in this one, moreso you/trouble dealing with the after. i let annabeth breakdown a bit since ep 8 was amazing but felt choppy to me. this is not the end of the trouble!verse i promise!!

(posted 2/12/24, betaed by mootie lari @mrsaluado)

—

DENIAL - bursting under pressure

we grew up together, what do you mean you grew into a person i can’t love?

Annabeth and Percy find you standing at the edge of the forest clearing—staring at the space where you let the love of your life vanish into thin air. 

You let him leave. 

It’s almost harrowing when the three of you make eye contact, not a single weapon in your possession, only your dying lantern and heart bleeding with the confirmation of Luke’s betrayal. 

Knees shaking as Annabeth stalks over and her sword still raised with tears in her eyes, she’s no longer Luke’s little sister but a formidable warrior set on protecting camp—on protecting Percy.

And you failed in doing either of those things you promised yourself at the beginning of this summer because you ignored the signs of Luke’s behavior— until this very moment. There’s a pressure in your head that dampens your senses, overtaking the control you have over your being as you deny any knowledge of what happened tonight. 

Because in truth, you put the pieces together at the same time they did, just a little too late. She looks at you now with the fury she wasn’t able to project on the real traitor.

“You knew,” she grits her teeth, on the defensive as Percy scrambles up from the ground.

“Annie, I…”

Percy stares at you in horror, a few steps back with Riptide in his injured grasp, and suddenly he understands what it means to see you break. They both feel it instantly as your lantern goes out. Heavy despair drapes over all of you as the madness rips its way through your body, almost breaking through your skin as it emanates through the air. The two children had never felt anything like it before, swords shaking in their hands as they’re filled with the sensation until it bubbles over and they can’t do anything but watch you, their usually poised head counselor lose your grip on reality.

But this can’t be real. 

Out of all of the plans you both made, it was never deemed a possibility that Luke wouldn’t be there with you. Now you stand in the darkness of the forest, hands raised in surrender to a crime you didn’t commit.

There’s so much pressure and it hurts holding it all in, hurts so badly—everywhere until you scream.

“DAD!”

You stare at their small faces surrounding you in anguish, both of them talking but not a single word registers in your mind as you keep shaking your head and screaming for your father for the first time in your life. Before the words the words can form between your lips again Dionysus is there, not as an immortal god but carrying the wrath of a protective father, and there are no forces that can fight against that.

It all moves fast from there, black spots blurring your vision brought by the sheer strength of your tears. Though you don’t feel strong right now, instead there’s nothing that can describe the feeling but hurt as you’re frozen in pain.

The kids watch Mr. D check you for any injuries, but what they’ll never understand is that the wounds Luke left behind are on the inside, and you are bleeding. He shushes you, but the words fight their way out of your mouth, almost in disbelief. “Did I do that to him?”

Your father scoops you into his arms, godly strength and fatherly concern surfacing as he cradles you like a little girl like he should have all those years ago.

The haze clears as Mr. D quells the misery that reverberates through the air and it’s quiet again as your eyes fall shut. For a moment, Percy can’t help but wonder if this is another performance of yours, another way to throw him off of the traitor’s scent. But as your hand falls out from under Mr. D’s arm, he grabs onto it anyway. The son of Poseidon remembers how you and Luke always looked at each other like you were equals, and realizes that for once, the actress was outplayed at her own game.

ANGER - words leaking like an abscess

i never knew loving someone so much would be a crime

There isn’t a protocol set in place for when one of your cabin counselors and all-star campers defects with plans to wage war on the gods. There is even less of a precedent set in place for when the head counselor and daughter of the camp director is left to pick up the pieces, hands dirtied by the evidence he left behind. Perhaps your job description was never truly clear anyway.

All you know now is that you’ve been sitting in a rickety wooden chair in your dad’s office for hours now, tied up—for formalities. 

This must be your punishment from the gods for every way you were different. Maybe if you were braver, maybe if you didn’t force yourself to only see the good in him, maybe then maybe, he could’ve been saved too. Surely undoing all of that would be considerably less painful than being questioned by everyone you love about the one you love. 

For once you didn’t have any good answers.

“Like I said to Chiron. I didn’t know.”

“You didn’t know what? Use your big girl words. Just do the right thing, like you always say!” Clarisse barks in your face. The centaur tuts at the daughter of Ares, making her step back and cross her arms. The boys are more silent but still suspicious, and Lee asks if you really thought Clarisse was the traitor.

“I didn’t. I was the last one to know,” you grit, looking at Percy who surveys you with hesitant eyes, “I just thought Luke was leaving. I didn’t know why.”

“How do we know you’re not working for Kronos too?” 

One of them says it, you’re losing track as to who when you blink hard and long, but the words spill out of you like a festering wound— fast, acidic, and painful.

“Do you REALLY think I could turn my back on my home? My friends? Is that how you all think of me? After everything!”

“You’d do anything for that boy and we all know it,” Silena says with a scowl very unlike her, though you suppose everyone’s out of sorts from exhaustion.

“Not that. That’s where him and I are different. I would never be able to do that.”

You think you hear Silena bite back a sob as she turns away from you, not meeting your eyes.

Mr. D was unable to judge you since you were his only daughter. He’s been gone most of the night and you feel so alone even if the room is filled with familiar faces that don’t even want you here. Charles, Percy, Lee, Clarisse, Silena, Katie stand still as they judge you— Annabeth didn’t even come to the Big House, her mind probably already made up. 

Chiron says there will be a vote, the procedural way—like how you taught the cabin counselors how to handle disagreements, though they were never expecting to vote on your dismissal from camp. Tensions are high, some rightfully angry at the war looming over your heads, others looking at you with pity from the other corner of the room. All of them, your friends, still, you hope.

6 votes, since you and Luke didn’t count, and Annabeth’s abstention. They did it outside, away from your view and you sit in the silence of the office, angry at what’s become of you. Tainted and tarnished, you don’t bother to find out who voted what, knowing things won’t be the same after this. 

Your dad comes back a little before dawn, having asked a favor from Apollo to determine your innocence–to prove that you’re telling the truth. But by then, Charles and Lee are already untying you from your chair and you’re being let go. You wonder what changed once they were able to speak without being in your presence. Remaining seated and staring at all of them with your jaw set in stone-cold wrath, Percy thinks for a moment that you look like Luke.

The first rays of light shine through the window upon your sullen frame— a confirmation from the sun god that your heart was always pure. It still feels like a loss. There’s no medal or award for getting left behind, and winning has always been more of Luke’s thing.

You resign from the position of head counselor by the time sunlight spreads across the campgrounds.

BARGAINING - to make yourself new from the inside out

isn’t home the first place you learn to run from?

You catch Percy at the doorstep of cabin 3 before he leaves and your dad is yelling at all the campers.

“Okay! For those of you who are not staying for the full term… get out! You get out. Pack your bags. You’re going home!” Mr. D screams with a twinkle in his eye as he winks at you, patting you on the head before walking away to drive kids out.

“Didn’t think you’d be up,” he mumbles, adjusting his backpack over his shoulder. You’d been locked up in your room since the interrogation with almost no signs of life. He was worried about you—all of them were. They just didn’t know how to say it, after everything.

You stood in front of him in sweatpants and a shirt he’s sure he’s seen Luke wear to sleep before, exhaustion prominent on your face; usually you’re better at hiding it, but there’s no need for false pretenses anymore.

“Last day of camp. Had to end it on a good note,” you say softly, biting your lip, “I heard about what you did, Perce. You didn’t have to. I was going to quit anyway.”

Sometime in the past few days, Chiron came to your cabin to tell you they didn’t vote at all, which was a surprise to you. Percy convinced them not to, reminding them of your efforts as head counselor, and as a friend—the decision was settled quickly after that.

“I knew you didn’t betray us. I was just scared.”

You watch him shift his weight, not losing eye contact as he produces a half-smile. He seems older now after his quest, as many demigods do–though it’s only been a few weeks, he looks like he’s grown more sure of himself.

“That’s okay. I was too.” 

The silence between you is comfortable as both of you listen to the birds in the trees, the distant voices of chattering children, and your heart hurts at the idea of leaving this, even temporarily. As your eyes flicker back to Percy’s, you realize he feels the same way. 

“I hope your mom’s okay, especially after all of this. I just wanted to say goodbye.”

His sandy eyebrows furrow and it’s funny how Percy always looks a little confused.

“You’re leaving camp? I thought…”

“Well I’m not joining Kronos, if that’s what you’re worried about,” you laugh dryly, “It’s getting boring here. Gonna have to change it up soon, I think. See you.” you nod, waving a hand as you turn to walk away.

“Wait!” 

Percy calls your name, skipping down the steps of his cabin and meeting you halfway down the forest path. He’s digging through his jacket pocket, and pulls out two black clay beads with blue tridents etched on the surface as your body grows cold.

“I don’t know what to do with—” “We…the other counselors, this is what we ended up voting on. And I thought you should get an extra, just in case,” Percy mumbles, his voice edged with hope and your face contorts into something like regret. You can’t cry again, even if you wanted to. 

“I wouldn’t pray for something like that,” you whisper shakily.

“I thought you didn’t really pray at all.” 

The kid smiles at you and it makes you wonder what souls like him and Luke must’ve done in their previous lives to deserve fates like this—to fight wars that aren’t their own. To be doomed by the narrative is a treacherous thing, and it is so utterly unfair. 

“Yeah. That was more his style,” you sniff, taking the beads out of his hand, “but I still find myself with a lot of hope.” 

Hope, in a sense, is prayer too. Wishing that things will be better, manifesting and believing that it doesn’t have to end this way. You don’t think Luke will ever come home to you, not really, not all of him, but it’s nice to have something to hang onto. At his core, he was raised to be a soldier, and soldiers don’t always come home.

You decide to drive Percy down the opposite shore to Montauk. It’s a short ride, and he spends the time looking out the window to the sea, thinking of his father— when the car pulls up to the driveway of the beach house, you step out and give him a hug. Soon, he’ll be taller than you.

“Take care of yourself, okay? Need anything and I’m a call away,” you smile, but he sees that it doesn’t reach your eyes.

“Thank you. For being a real friend, even if it hurts you.”

You grab his shoulder to make him look at you, and the distant sound of crashing waves dampens the thoughts running through your head.

“Listen to me. None of this is your fault. I couldn’t save him. Luke’s my biggest failure.”

Your voice wavers and you swallow hard, pushing the tears back down your throat.

“You know, I knew you didn’t know anything about his betrayal because when we were in the forest, I’d never seen you like that before. I couldn’t figure out the feeling, and–”

“I’m sorry you had to see me like that, Perce. I couldn’t hold it in anymore,” you interrupt, but he shakes his head and continues.

“I thought you were sad. It felt like sadness at first, but then I realized it was hatred. And I knew even then that I could never hate you. So I realized that’s how you felt about yourself. I hope someday you don’t feel that way anymore.”

If a few tears slip down your cheeks, Percy doesn’t pay it any mind. He waves at you when he gets to the door.

DEPRESSION - healing takes thick skin

i knew to love would be to lose my mind

After the summer term ended, you spent most of it in bed, hiding away from the world. You wished to be more spontaneous, to up and leave the safe boundaries of the camp you call home, but you’re not quite there yet. The one good thing about this is your father. Dionysus was at your bedside every morning and night between the work him and Chiron had to do to keep camp running in your absence. His powerful fingers made themselves comfortable stroking your hair as you always find yourself staring at nothing. Your father cured you of what he thought was madness over your life being turned upside down by someone you love, but after the fog cleared, you were left feeling nothing. Numb to the touch, hardened by your hurt like a growing callous.

Impenetrable.

He thinks it’s bittersweet, getting to know you better as you chat late into the night when you can’t sleep, but it breaks his own heart to have the power of Olympus on his side and still not be able to fix you. He knows now what you must have been feeling these past few months, to some extent.

“Sometimes, I wonder if I’m dead already,” you mutter as your eyes stare blankly at the glow-in-the-dark stars on your ceiling. Your dad is sitting at your desk as he signs paperwork, and his eyes flicker to a pinned photo on you wall of you kissing Luke’s cheek in a photobooth. One of the pins is missing a memory, torn and stolen away. 

“Unfortunately, you’re not that lucky. I carried you out of that forest, I’d know,” he mutters, sipping on his Diet Coke. 

“Will it always hurt like this? Losing someone you…” Love.

You can barely even bring yourself to say it, so he sighs and nudges you to move over on the bed, his Hawaiian shirt an eyesore against your bedspread. It makes your lips quirk up to see the god try to fit himself into a full-size as he adjusts to get comfortable.

“Yes. Because if it hurts, it means that it mattered. There is no such thing as love lost if you gave it willingly. You know, your mother and I were never together, but I loved her too.” 

He tucks the duvet under your chin like he’s worried you’ll catch a chill. Your form is still unmoving under the covers as he continues.

“Love is a powerful catalyst. The actions humans do after are a product of that; it brings out the best or the worst in people, especially if you think it’s the only way. You love because you want more time with them. You love someone to life, not to death.”

“Silena said something at the Big House. She said that everyone knew I would do anything for him. Where does that leave me? What do I do now?”

Your eyes shut as you feel your dad grab your hand and he chuckles lowly. He knows a thing or two of doing anything for love. He’s gone to the underworld and back—twice, for his mother Semele and his true love, Ariadne. And he’d do it again for you, if he ever had to. “You’re not broken, kid. You’re in love. It’s the purest emotion the gods have bestowed onto humans, and it is a gift, even if it doesn’t work out. Love is insanity.  I think you and I know it best.”

“I guess I’m a lot more like you than I like to admit,” you scoff, leaning against his arm. 

“Don’t sound so excited, daughter of mine,” he says playfully, and he seems so human now as he laughs. The two of you have a gift of fixing people, but perhaps you were both blind to who needed it the most until this very moment. Sitting there in the quiet a little longer, it doesn’t feel so bad to be the favorite daughter of Dionysus. Maybe when you’re ready to get out of these walls, you’ll be able to say it with pride.

ACCEPTANCE - to be soft again takes strength

in another life, we would’ve mattered more than choosing sides

“He always hated it when you smoked, you know.”

You cough through a puff, boots slightly slipping in the sleet of the gravel driveway as you turn to face Annabeth. Besides the fact that her father’s house is grander than anything you could ever imagine yourself living in, there’s a large distance between the two of you as she stands on the steps, the box you left on the doorstep slowly being dotted with falling snow. You left the car running, thinking she wouldn’t want to see you after everything that’s happened.

“Well he probably hates a lot of things about me now,” you say grimly. 

It’s been a growing habit to want to feel something, the rush of nicotine through your bloodstream—even if it’s bound to rip years off your life. It doesn’t really matter as much anymore.

I hate a lot of things about me too, you think, remembering a white house on a hill even if it was a distant dream— these thoughts all go up in smoke as you watch her sit down on the stoop waiting for you to come sit down with her.

Your hands fidget as you find a place next to her, putting out the cigarette on the red brick as the ash falls onto your chipped nail polish. It burns, but Annabeth watches you, the both of you stone-faced.

“What made you drive all the way out here?”

She opens the box and tries to hide a shaky breath at it’s contents but the vapor in the air betrays her. You can still tell a thing or two about people acting, but you’re never too sure anymore.

“I got a few days off from class. Dad Iris messaged me, told me there were new kids in 11 who needed bunks, so… he thought it was time. It was sitting in my room when I got there.” She notices you call Mr. D your dad now, but doesn’t say much of it. She’s also getting used to calling her father that after all these years.

You pull out the quilt you gave Luke the night before you got claimed, a faded pink and purple pattern worn from the years of use and wrap it around her shoulders. It still smells like him, citrus and musk and something darker that hangs over your heads and she sniffles.

“So you’re a college girl now, huh? Never thought you’d do it,” Annabeth mumbles, still not looking at you as her eyes scan through what was hidden underneath the fabric. Luke never had much he held close to his heart, and it’s funny to think his two prized possessions were staring down into a box trying to find the meaning of it all.

“Yeah, me neither,” you sigh. It should’ve been an insult, but you know what she means.

Not without him. 

There’s a lot that you promised each other, but you find yourself doing it all alone–because you have to. The world does not wait for for anyone, even if you beg for it to.

“It’s not a big deal, I’m still on the Island, just…not at home. Just trying to keep myself busy.”

Her hand picks up a polaroid of the two of them—he’s smiling as she peers over his shoulder.

“I think it’s great. You’re too hard on yourself sometimes.”

Other memories are scattered in the box including a leather bracelet, a compass, unsent letters to his mom, and photos of happier days back when all of your hearts were softer. There’s not much to split between the two of you.

A black clay bead rolls to the inner corner, indicative of this year’s events and painted with turquoise like the eyes of a certain son of Poseidon that now crosses the both of your minds.

“Percy gave it to me before he left for the city, for him. In case.”

You swallow loudly, and you watch her braid it onto the leather cord and tie it around your wrist. Her fingertips are cold as she nods, “In case.”

“You’ve been looking for him, haven’t you?” The movement your head makes is almost imperceptible—not a nod nor a shake, but the daughter of Athena knows you too well by now. She knows you because Luke did too, once upon a time.

“Think I’m trying to find myself now. If he’s still a part of that I don’t know what that says about me.”

The two of you sit there on the stoop of the Chase mansion catching up on the past 7 months even if the both of you can still feel the wall of his memory between you. She doesn’t invite you in to meet her family despite the weather—hesitant to let her mother’s side of life bleed into the new normal she’s created for herself, and you can’t blame her one bit. The both of you have been at war with each other and with yourselves since the end of the summer, when in reality you both know what it’s like to protect the little you have to hang onto and what it feels like to be left behind. Survival mode, until the end.

“Why do you think he did it? I mean, I know why, but…”

Why weren’t we enough?

Annabeth’s mind has always been so brilliant, but sitting in the dim porchlight, you understand now that she’s growing up so quickly. Gone are her baby-soft cheeks, with her cheekbones more prominent as they frame her wise eyes. She’s a teenager now. But Annabeth looks at you like she did long ago, the only person besides Luke who would patiently answer all of her questions. Even if the answers weren’t always what she wanted, you had a way of telling her what she needed to hear.

“I think I’ll be asking the gods why for the rest of my life. And even if they ignore me like they did him, or give me an answer that’s worth the balance of the world, I’ll still never be able to understand it.”

The snow is falling harder now, but neither of you seem to notice. It’s stuck in your hair, dusting your eyelashes as you sit and stare out at the front lawn. She tells you about school, her family, Percy and Grover, and the things you’ve missed about her so deeply—and for a moment you feel like you can be her older sister again, someone who can keep her secrets. Partially, you left home because everyone either doubted you or thought you as fragile. Annabeth always tells you what she’s truly thinking— it’s a breathe of fresh air to let yourself just be.

“I’ve never not had the last word when it comes to him, y’know? I guess I have nothing more to say though.”

You both huddle together for warmth under the quilt, sharing secrets and memories of him, things others wouldn’t understand.

“You know that’s not true,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes, and her smile is as bright as the snowflakes in her ebony tresses.

“What I do know is that you know too damn much,” and you both start giggling softly, teary eyed and feeling what you’ve been keeping in for months now, from each other and the rest of the world.

“I’m sorry,” she mutters suddenly, and your name falling from Annabeth’s mouth sounds almost as unfamiliar as her apologizing. It shouldn’t have to have been like this. You’re not going to lose the only person who remembers him like you do, who hurts like you. 

“Me too.”

She leans her head on your shoulder like how she would when you used to sing her to sleep, and deep down Annabeth knows that she won’t let the only good part of her brother go either. What tore the two of you apart brings you back together, because if you don’t have him you still have each other.

The door to the estate opens up slowly, it’s well-oiled hinges silent like the two sad girls’ whispers. Dr. Chase steps out to see you two illuminated by the light of his home, hand in hand over a box of memories and wrapped in a pink and purple quilt that Annabeth will hold close to her like she does her mother’s hat. 

“You two ladies causing trouble?” he smiles, his eyes wild with a thirst to know more and it’s a look you’ve seen his daughter give you one too many times.

You can’t help but chuckle at the irony and though he means well, the all-consuming feeling that comes with the name, Luke’s name for you– ignites in your heart once more. No one will ever call you trouble again, not in the way he did. It burns like alcohol running through your veins almost unendurable and you want to will it away, but Annie’s patting your arm as she tries to stifle the flames with her cold fingers.

“Her?” she says knocking her shoulder against yours, “ Always.” 

Annabeth laughs, and that too, reminds you of him but it doesn’t hurt as much anymore, your body still warm in the winter Virginia air. You feel your chest shake and suddenly you’re laughing and it’s crazy and loud and maniacal and so you that you can barely see Annabeth through the tears rolling down your cheeks. It cuts around the dead skin that’s encapsulated your being these past few months, revealing something brand new—much softer, even if it’s still tender to the touch.

It’s still you, still hurting, but choosing to live despite it.

Because you have to.

—

“Loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever had to do. Being loved by you is the hardest.“

- Ari B. Cofer

luke taglist (some won't let me tag, turn on my post notifs?): @kissingyourgrl @dorcas4meadowes @lorarri @andrewgarfldsgf @noodlesketchbook @10ava01 @poppysrin @ashisabitgay @timhalamet @liv1104 @leeknows-wife @mxtokko @bugcuti3 @luvvfromme @midmourn @2hiigh2cry @yuminako @niktwazny303 @lukecastellandefender @intergalactic-padawan @iliketopgun @annybah @dangelnleif @thegrinningghost @alyssajunelle @obxstiles @m00ng4z3r @visndcaitswhore @b0ok-lover @elegant-face-tree @this-barbie-is-having-breakdowns @amortencjja @idonevenknow1359 @maliaaaa @targaryenluvs @sakyira @dhdjdjjdhsjdiri @number-onekidqueen @nininehaaa @bradynoonswife @stevenknightmarc @hoodedhavok @happy-mushrooms @homebyeleven @anotherblackreader @too-deviant @liviessun @lilacspider @theadventuresofanartist @sucker4seresin @simpforsunwoo @zanzie @starrystormwritings

[lieutnt]

KINKTOBER - #1

monsterfucking & breeding w/ ftm!miguel o'hara x top!werewolf!male reader kinktober masterlist

The smell of arousal oozing from Miguel has you half drunk, mind hazy with the desire to breed, and when he purposefully arches his back, pushing his slick and stretched open cunt towards you, the frayed thread of resistance you have snaps.

You press inside inch by inch, a deep, pleasured growl rumbling through your body as his cunt accepts you easily, and when you’re fully wrapped in his tight heat you stop, leaning over Miguel and pressing your body against his to nose at his throat, his ear, able to hear every little whine of pleasure as his walls pulse around you. 

More slick pools from his cunt when he feels your sack resting against his thighs - full, heavy, and the thought of you filling him to the brim has him squirming against you, dragging his body forward and sinking back, a moan pouring from his lips when you begin to move, pulling out as soon as he’s full only to push back in, repeating the motion as Miguel begins to babble, his patience already running out as he begs for more.

With a few more shallow thrusts your pace picks up, Miguel curling an arm around your neck to hold you close as your hips crash together, the force of your thrusts gradually weakening his knees until he’s falling flat on the bed, a surprised grunt tearing from his mouth as your clawed hands grip his hips and hold them up so you can rut in deeper, the pleasure you’re feeling thickening the fog in your mind as the need to breed and make him swollen with your seed takes over.

Your cock fits perfectly inside Miguel, the tip knocking against his sweet spot and making his toes curl as his orgasm approaches from nowhere, almost no build up before his stomach is tensing and his cunt is fluttering around you as it takes over, a breathless cry vibrating through his lungs as he’s washed away into euphoria. You don’t stop, the feeling of Miguel orgasming around you sending you wild, your thrusts harsh and deep. 

His pleasure increases tenfold as the beginning of your knot catches on his rim, the knowledge that you’ll soon be locked together while all he can do is take everything you give him quickly hurtling him towards another orgasm, his cunt gushing around you. Miguel holds onto you desperately, rocking back against you as words he can’t control tumble from his mouth.

“Please, please, give it to me, breed me,” he pants, voice choppy and tone desperate as your knot grows larger, pace getting faster and thrusts becoming shorter and deeper.

A long, broken groan punches from his chest as your knot pops inside and finally bursts, a low, content grumbling escaping your throat as you spill endlessly inside him, Miguel able to feel every pulse of your cock. You don’t seem to stop, cock kicking against his walls for what feels like too long, until finally he can’t feel anything but how full he is.

He thinks you might give him a break, body still and panting above him, but then your hands tighten on his hips and you begin to grind your knot against where you’re tied together, the pleasure quickly pushing Miguel into another orgasm. You keep going until he feels you twitch inside him, a few more pulses of cum shooting out and joining what you’d already filled him with.

If he was more coherent he would comment at how you suddenly switch, a beast tamed just because you pumped him full. You begin to gentle Miguel, lighter hands skimming across his body to make sure he’s not hurt, your head pushing into his when he begins to scratch behind your ear, nose burrowing into the crook of his neck as your arms encircle him to hold him close.

He’s not sure how long you stay like that, but when your knot begins to recede and you pull out his hole desperately clenches, trying to stop your cum from escaping. He hears you huff, unsatisfied with the way your cum drips from his hole, and any intention he had of cleaning himself up is quickly washed away when you flip him onto his back and spread his legs, one hand holding your cock as you rub it against his messy cunt. 

Miguel doesn’t manage to say anything before you push back in, the mixture of his slick and your cum leaving little resistance as you start to thrust again, Miguel’s body jolting with your thrusts. He can feel how wet between his thighs is, each collision of your bodies accompanied by a squelch as you fuck your cum back into him, barely letting a drop go to waste.

His eyes roll into the back of his head - this might be his chance to start a family, the thought making him tighten around you, and with the way you growl, you seem to think so too.

[lymtw]

Aftercare with Gojo where he focuses on kissing life back into your limbs after a particularly rough session with him.

He showers with you. No round two, no sexually stimulating touches, just him being as soft and delicate with you as he can. Satoru spends a lot of time reassuring you as he scrubs your body, telling you that you're just as pretty as you were before, even with all these marks on your skin, but, regardless of his words, he keeps scrubbing your skin, as if trying to bring back some of the purity it had before things got animalistic.

He requests that you stay as light in clothing as possible because he will be examining your body. Normally, you just stay in your underwear and a bra because with these examinations comes Gojo checking every inch of your skin. You get to lay back and relax while he thoroughly goes down your body, massaging your tender muscles and overall rehabilitating you.

He brushes his fingers against the dark marks on your neck and your chest, feeling the love that went into putting them on you to begin with. As his eyes trail down the rest of your hickey-littered, unobserved body, he realizes he loves you so much that it's taken a physical form on your skin.

You are not the only one who leaves scratches behind. Satoru does, too. He looks at your ribs, inhaling at the sight of four red, long streaks that trail from your ribs on each side, to where he can no longer see, on your back. He leans down and kisses the bright lines, like doing so would heal you in an instant. He does the same for the nail indentations he left behind on your waist and on your hips, kissing the aftermath of being so driven with pleasure that he had to take it out on your beautiful skin. He finishes up massaging your lower body. Your thighs, which were also bruised by his lips, your knees which had rug burns on them, and a thrown in ankle massage for the harsh grip he had on it before.

You feel like you're in another place when Satoru looks after you this way. Almost 90% of the times he does this, you fall asleep when he has you flip over to examine your back. This was one of those times when his touch felt so heavenly and light against your skin that you couldn't help but rest your eyes, resulting in your slumber.

Satoru's hands run down the expanse of your back. He undoes the clasp of your bra, not able to see the point where his scratches end until the material is moved. It's expected for you to leave these red trails behind on him, but he's in shock at the ones he left on you this time. He traces the lines, the slightly swollen skin warm to the touch, and his revitalizing kisses return to soothe the sting.

Satoru can see choppy patterns of his nail indentations on your lower back, a warm hand rubbing them to try to make them fade. He can hear your soft, rhythmic breathing now, a soft smile drawn on his features. He rubs little pressurized circles into your calves, watching you to make sure he's not pressing too hard. He ends the examination with some finishing touches on your achilles tendons and your heels.

"Baby," Satoru coos, laying on his side, facing you. You're still laying on your stomach, little puffs of air escaping your slightly parted lips. His fingers trail down your spine, past the undone clasps of your bra. "Baby..." he tries again, this time running a thumb across your shiny, saliva coated bottom lip.

"Mm..." you hum, not opening your eyes.

"You okay?" He asks his hand playing with your damp hair, softly.

"Mhm," you nonverbally confirm.

"Okay," he finishes. He turns his lamp off and scoots closer to you, his arm and leg draping over you like a makeshift blanket.

[neckromantics]

Astarion is the type of partner that couldn't help but laugh when you've taken a spill. Especially if you've made a proper fool of yourself by, say, losing your footing after getting stuck in the mud, or simply tripping over your own feet when you're distracted. Which unfortunately happens more often than you'd like to admit.

But of cooourse, he makes sure you're alright first. You surely can't still see him hiding a wicked grin behind his fist as he approaches, and there's no way you notice the mirth in his voice when he says, "Oh, dear. Any grave injuries, darling?"

After confirmation that you are, in fact, uninjured (just prone. and a little embarrassed.), he lets you have it. To his credit, he's never cruel about it- usually only lets out a couple of those choppy little Ha-Ha!'s of his while you stare helplessly from where you're sprawled out.

(Except for that one time you slipped on a patch of ice and tumbled face-first into a snowbank. You'd been too busy complaining about the weather to look at the ground before you. Astarion could just tell you'd be eating shit any minute by the number of times you'd had to reach out and steady yourself on his shoulder. It was comedy gold. How you'd over-corrected yourself with a series of arm movements so wild that you knocked away his helping hands? The ridiculous noise you made on the way down? The helpless look on your face before you found yourself ass up to the sky? He laughed at you for a good two minutes as you struggled to pull yourself up and out of the snow and then laughed some more when you tried to throw a snowball at his head in retribution. He dodged it easily, of course. Smug bastard.)

You roll your eyes in response, though you've never really minded his teasing nature. It's always lovely to hear his laughter come out so genuinely, even if it sometimes comes at your own expense.

Your knight in shiny armor, he is, as he outstretches a hand to help you up. He's infuriatingly good at keeping his footing no matter the predicament you've gotten yourself into, so you never have to worry about taking him down with you when he hefts you up to your feet.

Astarion's face still holds his amusement as he steadies you, making a big show out of dusting away the dirt from the seat of your trousers even if you didn't land on your ass. He'll give you a couple of soothing pats there when he's done, his free hand holding onto your elbow to keep you upright. Or maybe just to keep you close.

"Careful, lover." His smile is more than affectionate now. For a moment you wonder if the way his hands move on to smooth out the collar of your tunic may be an unspoken apology for finding your blunders so amusing. But then, "One more hilarious display like that could prove to be your last."

You could kiss that sly grin right off his stupid, handsome face.

[shotmrmiller]

@magicislikelove said pathetic!simon with single mom reader.

pathetic!simon sees you the first time when you move in, dragging a heavy box through to your door, and he is enthralled.

he also doesn't move to help you because the grunts that escape your lips from the effort set his loins ablaze.

your flushed skin glistening with sweat— a rosy hue across your face, perspiration dripping from your temple down to your chin, where it collects like dew drops. (he wonders if you taste like brine, or sweet like golden wheat)

the swell of your soft hips peeking from under your damp shirt that rides up whenever you bend down to get a good grip on the edges of the cardboard box. (he wishes those dainty fingers would caress his scarred back, leaving trails of red in their wake)

every noise that spills from your bow-shaped lips the color of petals sends a lick of pleasure up his spine, white-hot and agonizing. (what he wouldn't do for you to spit into his mouth, or maybe just on him altogether and make him clean it up)

he watches you raise your arms to pull your sweaty hair away from your face with delicate hands— slender, fragile wrists twisting it into a makeshift sloppy bun. (would you tug on his hair like that? would you pull until you felt the cropped strands pop from his scalp?)

and then you look up and notice him standing in the hallway, right by his front door. your eyes lock onto his, and he feels the oxygen in his lungs being siphoned away.

"uh, hi."

his breath lodges in his throat, or maybe it's spit because he's spinning on the balls of his feet, his back to you as he barks out dry coughs until he can breathe again.

"are... are you alright?" the slight worry in your voice has his cock twitching.

he'd be better if he could use that shirt you're currently wearing as a mask— the wet spots right over his crooked nose.

"yes. sorry. i'm a little ill," he hoarsely utters before turning back around to face you. "it's just a mild cough, so i can help ya with tha', if ya like." his head tips toward the box he's been watching you fight with for the past half-hour.

"i'd, i mean, yeah...okay." he doesn't care that you sounded almost coerced, simon moves with the speed he uses in the field, and is by your side in seconds, hoisting up the box wordlessly.

he stares at you, waiting for you to turn around and invite him into your home.

"uhm, right this way," you push open the door quietly, and point at the kitchen floor. "there please."

simon does as you say, (like a good boy, he thinks, won't you let him be your good boy?) when he hears a child's cries come from behind a closed door.

"ah, duty calls. i really do appreciate you helping me," you give him a small grin. "i'll see you around, yeah?"

simon slowly nods at you before turning to leave, opening your front door when he notices that you've begun to walk toward your wailing offspring. (he didn't see a ring on your finger)

he discreetly swipes the scented plug-in (just a touch too hot in his roughened palm) by the door and heads toward his own flat.

simon doesn't even fully undress, just hastily undoes the button of his jeans and lets them drop mid-thigh before he slams his back on the living room wall and begins to unscrew the plug-in.

the slick, hot, aromatic oil pulls a sibilant hiss from his thin, chapped lips as it touches the sensitive skin of his meaty cock and lathers himself in it with a couple of experimental strokes.

he squeezes the base of it, encircling it with his large hand, so tight it hurts.

that's what you'd feel like around him.

simon grips himself and starts to fuck his fist— choppy, desperate thrusts that has his toes curling in his muddy, creased boots.

his hand is calloused, just on the edge of too rough, but it doesn't stop him from imagining it's you that's on his cock, bouncing on it with fervor.

his nostrils sting with the overwhelming smell of the oil even through the thick fabric of his mask— a heady mix of lavender and vanilla— and it makes his head spin.

the web space between his thumb and pointer drags along his frenulum, and white spots dance behind his eyelids. sweat beads his brow as he gets closer to his end, the ecstasy coursing through his veins threatening to consume him whole.

simon replays the sounds you made earlier in his head, and for once, it drowns out the usual low ringing in his ears, intensifying his arousal.

he's pumping himself roughly now, fast and jerky as he rears his peak.

would you let him come inside of you? paint your silken walls with his unworthy spend?

when he thinks of you trying to hook your ankles at the base of his spine to keep him deep inside of you as he tries to weakly pull out is what breaks him.

his cock spasms as thick spurts of warm cum dribble all over his scarred knuckles and pants.

simon's hand is slippery as he continues to pump his softening length, and squeezes right under his flared head, the remnants of his pleasure beading at the tip.

his gait is awkward, and stiff as he waddles toward the kitchen with his trousers still by his wide, hairy thighs— plugging in the wall scent on his way there.

unbeknownst to him, he was giving you that kubrick stare and it made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end.

you also thanked the stars that he wasn't a serial killer.

[teamatsumu]

kinktober 2023 -> day 20

scratching - bokuto koutaro x reader

word count: 750

kinktober masterlist

In his first week of joining MSBY, Hinata received the shock of his life when he first saw Bokuto shirtless in the locker room.

“Bokuto-san!” He had gasped, eyes widening when they fell on his senpai’s back. Red scratches lined the wide expanse of skin, some long and thin, some short and choppy, scattered between them were small, crescent shaped markings that looked an awful lot like nails digging into skin. Bokuto had turned around at the sound of his name, staring curiously at Hinata until the boy had gestured to Bokuto’s marred back questioningly. He laughed.

Bokuto was a beast on the court. So he didn’t understand why people were surprised that he was a beast in bed too. Nothing about him was subtle, so of course, the remnants of his sex life lived on his skin proudly, and he had no desire to hide them. After Hinata got over his initial shock, he realized how on-brand this actually was. Bokuto was an intense person, loud and proud, and he met the same standards in all areas of his life. All of them.

So when Bokuto fucked you into the mattress, pounded his cock into your little hole, he didn’t protest against your body’s reactions, didn’t mind when you screamed and arched, arms wrapping around him and nails digging deep into his skin. He welcomed it, reveled in the pricking and burning on his back when you dragged your fingers over it, crying into his ear about how good it felt, how you had missed his cock filling you up the way it was right now. He would watch your teary eyes and flushed face, feeling the last vestiges of his control slip away at how pathetic and whiny you looked, reduced into a mess because of him.

Your feet would kick out, twitching and trembling when he found that one glorious spot deep inside you, the tip of his dick hitting it again and again, hips smacking into you with purpose. One of his hands would reach for the headboard, holding himself steady as he lost himself to the feeling of your tight, fluttering walls, squeezing so gloriously around his shaft that it only made him go faster, thrust harder, hearing you squeal and arch until your breasts pressed to his bare torso, and your nails dug deep, likely drawing blood, little swipes of your hands as you came around his dick, crying at how good he made you feel.

There was a sharp, sharp sting that came with your nails. When you would first dig them into Bokuto’s back, he didn’t feel much, but as time passed and Bokuto kept thrusting into you, he would feel a thin burn, tracks of it shooting their way down his back until they made him tense up, and all the blood rushed to his cock. The pain would muddle his brain so gloriously it made him feral. And all he could think of was filling your begging, weeping cunt full of his cum.

The snug, wet warmth of your pussy, combined with the tingling fire on his back, was what made him empty his load into you, eyes rolling up as his hips stuttered, smacking his hips into you one last time before he came deep inside, feeling as if his very soul was being sucked out of him and into the welcoming embrace of your greedy cunt. It was enough to make Bokuto black out for a moment, so lightheaded that, for a split second, he would forget his own name.

He wouldn’t even register the aftereffects of your passionate activities until he heard your horrified gasp behind him in the shower.

“Kou, your back!” Your eyes wide with guilt, one hand covering your mouth in shock. Bokuto would blink in confusion as you fussed over him, not understanding what the big deal was. So you had scratched him up while having sex, what was the problem here? It felt good when you did it, and it still felt good afterward. He could feel the sting whenever he moved, a reminder of his bedroom activities, a huge boost to his ever-hungry ego. And when he would try to explain it to you, proudly yet childishly calling them ‘battle scars’, you would huff out a worried laugh, only backing down when he reassured you over and over again that he liked it, loved it, in fact. Would proudly carry the signs of your pleasure on his back. Would be willing to show everyone how good he made his girl feel.

The entire volleyball team already knew, and if some paparazzi were to conveniently catch him shirtless at any time, the whole world would know too. And Bokuto had no problem with that.

Taglist:

@bxbyyyjocelyn @thisbicc @lazuliquartz @dreamayy @kuroosluthoe @true-form-hoe @akumakitsune21 @cham0mil3-and-h0n3y @samisfunky @universal-s1ut @msbyomimi @dohwaesu @leothesquishy @n0tmykays @tsukiran @reyofsunshinelol @bleach-your-panties @galaneiaeris @leyra-giovanni @erenspersonalwh0re @peachesncats @soapsoftheworld @iwannabecamiloshovel @vintagevict0ria @smithieandy @moonlit-mizukage @snazzyturtles @argwein

A/N: For those whose tags arent working, im sorry! I tried and for some reason, your names wont show up in the mentions :( another way of being notified is to turn on my blog notifs for @teamatsumufics . I only reblog my fics there so it serves almost like being in a taglist!

[ilythena]

Hi lovie! Your writing and blog aesthetics are incredible! I visit every morning to get some motivating energy. May I please make a request for Jack Hughes? May it please be with a girl who is quiet/introverted but not a pushover. She doesn't start conversations/speak much in public, but is chill with herself and doesn't waste her social battery with those she doesn't vibe with. If that makes sense so sorry! The plot can be anything you wish! Please change or ignore this I know it's odd and choppy.

𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐘 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐒 || 𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐇𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐄𝐒

★SUM Jack’s in love with his blunt girlfriend, and isn’t afraid to show that.

Fem!reader, as per requested the reader is quiet and doesn’t give two shits about it, use of y/n, poor Trevor getting ignored bad and then rutger taking his spot, ngl this was kinda hard to write cause I am literally the most friendly person ever, anon I love u thank u sm for this req I love soft Jack, hope I did this ask justice!

WC: 1.8K, not proofread 🐚

♪ GOOD DAYS - SZA

“Still standing here?”

“Mhm.”

Tonight was great. You went with Jack to this beach party he was invited to and despite thinking you were gonna hate it, it was actually pretty fun. Though you would never admit that to him.

The warm air of summer brushes past you with a soothing coo of relaxation. The music from the party being distant in your ears; hearing chatter and the crashing of the waves in harmony.

“You don’t talk a lot, do you?” A boy says, one of Jack’s friends named “Trevor” or something—honestly you didn’t mean to forget but it just didn’t stick to you at the moment.

“Not really.” You say and then turn around to walk back into the crowd. After a few minutes of just wandering you bump into the chest of another person. “Excuse me-“

“Well hello pretty lady, you alone?” He says, and you lift up your head a little bit to see the gorgeous sight of your boyfriend, Jack. His smile widens as you two meet eyes and they crinkle at the side a little bit with how hard he’s smiling.

“Hmmm, not too sure if I am….” You tease and he wraps an arm around your waist to bring you closer to you. “Where’d you go? Outside?” nodding your head and bringing your arms to wrap around his neck you give him a small kiss

You two part slightly when a girl makes her way over to the two of you, not even sparing you a glance.

“Jacky! How are you-“ she stumbles—trying to purposefully trip herself into him, but only getting surprised when he grabs you and quickly moves the both of you out her way, causing her to fall flat on the floor.

A few people around her look down confusingly, and you mentally smile at her slightly embarrassed look. She quickly jumps back up to her feet and coughs a little to clear herself up.

“Um, anyways. How are you doing, Jacky?” She says, and looks at you for a second while her face shifts to displeased when she sees his arm around your waist.

“I’m fine. Me and my girlfriend, y/n, are doing pretty well-“ “Jack! Tell your brother he sucks at pool.” A tall brunette says with Luke trailing behind him with a grumbling smile “I do not suck! You definitely cheated!”

“Yeah okay Luke.” Your boyfriend snorts and the random girl is very swiftly pushed to the side while the two boys take over her spot in front of you.

“Hi y/n” Luke says and gives you a small hug while you smile at him in greeting. “Hi, I’m rutger! You can call me rut, Nice to meet you.” The boy takes out his hand and his demeanor is incredibly friendly, shooting him the same smile you gave to Luke “I’m y/n. You’re a pool expert?”

“Nah, but I could definitely beat you if you play like this dude over here.” He jokes while nudging over to Luke and he replies with a ‘so not true’

“You’re so on!” The two of you run over to the table, already joking around about which one of you would get which side.

“That’s new? She doesn’t really click with people like that…” Luke says and Jack nods, looking at the two of you. “It is rare, but sometimes it happens. Rutger has that younger brother vibe which is probably why they clicked so fast. Y/n has a soft spot for family.”

“Jack! Get over here! I am not having Luke as my partner again” “that’s my boyfriend!”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were alone? I would have came too!”

“Rut, I like my alone time outside” you giggle, seeing him plop down on the seat next to you, making an ‘O’ shape with his mouth.

“Well, Jack was looking for you earlier. And Trevor was complaining that you didn’t like him?” “It’s not that I don’t like Trevor, I don’t really know him like that.”

“you don’t know him either!” A muffled voice comes from behind the glass window you’re in front of, turning around to see Trevor (apparently) and Jack looking at the two of you.

Jack grins, mouthing a ‘hi Baby’ to you while Trevor freezes and backs up from the window. “…a little creepy.” “I didn’t even know he was there.” Rutger laughs and you scoff

“He’s kinda right though, I only just met you at the party two days ago.” Rutger says, leaning back into his seat. “Yeah, but you give off like a friendly sibling vibe. Whoever that is gives me random dude vibes which is true cause he is.”

“Can you at least make an effort to learn my name? As Jack’s best friend I think I deserve some respect!“ Trevor whines and Jack opens the door, already tired of talking to you through the window. “you are not my best friend.” “Then who is?” “You are, obviously.” Jack says to you in response to your question.

“Y/n! Come here, I need help with my hair.” Ellen calls you over and you gently excuse yourself from the porch as the boys talk amongst each other.

A few minutes later, the same girl from last night slides into your spot and everyone stops talking. “Hey guys, what’s going on?” “Um, nothing much. Just waiting for y/n to get back I guess. Where did you come from?” Rutger says and she fakes confusion, purposefully ignoring his last question. “who’s y/n?” “My girlfriend. You saw her last night at the party.” Jack says and she furrows her brows.

“Oh, her? I talked to her outside too, not very friendly.” “Yeah, you just have to get close to her. Unless you’re Rutger apparently.” Trevor sighs and Rutger lets out a little laugh “I don’t know, she really seemed like she didn’t like me.” “She might warm up to you eventually.” Jack cuts through shortly, not wanting to leave a space where she could talk negatively about you.

He thanks everything when he sees you walking back up to them, another smile gracing his lips. “Your mom is literally the best Hughes.” “Should I take offense to that or no?” He jokes and you shrug.

“Hi.” The girl sitting in your seat says and you nod your head back in greeting. “Can I get a hi too?” “Hi Travis.” “My name is Trevor!” Giggling, you let out a small ‘oops’ and Trevor knows for a fact you’re messing with him now.

The girl eyes you down carefully, as if she’s trying to pick out a flaw while you stand there and look at something on your phone.

“Oh shit, we gotta go. Promised Luke I’d go with him to watch a movie. You wanna come, babe?” “Nah, I’m good. I’m probably just gonna relax.” “I can go.” The girl says with an exaggerated ear piercing voice, and Jack can’t help but cringe. “Um, Luke said guys night only. Bye! Bye babe.” He kisses you goodbye before shoving rutger and Trevor out and away so the girl couldn’t question him.

You stand there and watch while the boys pull out of the driveway, waving a goodbye and seeing them drive off. Eventually, the boys leave and it’s just you and this mystery girl here.

You move to go back inside, and she follows you from a distance.

Walking into the kitchen, you take out a pack of strawberries and wash them off before grabbing a cutting board and beginning to cut them into pieces, trying your best to ignore the weird girl behind you.

“Do you even like Jack?” She questions and you pause before turning around to look at her. “Who are you?” You say, before turning back to your strawberries. “I’m Kianna. I live next door. I don’t think you’re a good fit for Jack.” “Good thing I don’t care what you think then, Kianna.” She huffs and you slide your diced strawberries into a cup, moving to take ice cream out of the freezer and scoop it into a bowl.

“That’s rude.” “It’s not rude, I don’t know who you are. Why would I care about what you think if I don’t know you?” You respond, and place your strawberries on your ice cream before leaving to go upstairs into Jacks room. “You don’t want to get to know me?” “Why would I want to get to know someone who’s trying to steal my man?”.

You can hear Ellen open the front door when you disappear up the steps and slow down so you can hear their conversation.

“Oh! Kianna, honey… what are you doing in here?” Ellen says and she freezes “um, I was talking to Jack’s girlfriend and she just went upstairs.” “Oh, y/n! Isn’t she great? I just love her so much, such a sweetheart! Jack’s just so in love with her too.” Ellen says and you can feel the awkwardness radiating off of Kianna. “U-um, Mrs. Hughes, I’m gonna head home now. Bye.” She mumbles before making her way out the door.

You snicker before walking up into Jacks room and turning on the latest episode of your favorite murder tv series.

You wake up to feel Jack laying down next to you, Arms wrapped around you and his body slightly squishing yours.

“Hey. Had a nice nap?” He buries himself into the back of your neck, smiling when he hears you giggling with a sigh.

“Was soo nice. You have fun at the movies with Luke and the others?” “Yeah. Was a great movie. Would’ve been better if you were there though.”

Silence is the only thing heard between you two. The tv doing all the talking you need to fill in the empty air.

“My mom said Kianna was in here earlier. She trouble you at all?” You roll onto your other side to face him properly and play with his hoodie. “Nah, she tried to intimidate me but it didn’t work.” “Intimidate you how?” “Tried telling me she didn’t think I was good for you or whatever, but I literally don’t even know that chick. Why would I care?”

Jack hums in agreement as he snuggles closer to you. “She’s just upset cause I’m not dating her. I’ve never liked her, but I’ve been nice because she’s like my summer neighbor or whatever.” You smile and nod in acknowledgment.

“I don’t care what she thinks. Like I said, I don’t know her.” “My mom secretly hates her too, but don’t tell her I told you that.” He whispers and you smile.

“I love you so much.” He mumbles into your neck and you sigh in contentment. “I love you too, J.” You two share a few kisses before you hear knocking on the door.

“Hey. Tell y/n her favorite Hughes brother just came home.” “Quinn!” “Hey! I’m here too!” “Shut up Luke!”

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