#IVE STARTED WRITING A SLOW BURN | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

peanutpinet · 3 days

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BABE!!!! We absolutely need a second part to Little Things, we need to know how their relationship develops and see Sylus fall in lover with reader's soul. PLEASE BABE PLEASE!!!

Welcome to My World - Sylus x Fem Reader (Sequel to Little Things)

Request: Craving for a sequel to this w/ reader actually going back to her world and sylus just defying all odds shshshshs these kinds of fics are so interesting love em <3

A/N: Just a lil something for those who wanted to see what would Sylus be like if he were to actually come out of the screen and into our world (still having his evol but is not addressed). Also if anyone is a Kpop fan, I just want to say, do have a listen to Aespa’s Welcome to My World. It embodies this fic so much and am putting some of the lyrics into the story! I hope you guys enjoy!!

Disclaimer: I do not own the images nor the characters or you (the MC). All images were taken from Pinterest.

Also, if you haven't read Little Things, the "first part" of the story, do have a read. Will be link here. But you don't have to read it and can just read each of these fics seperately

Warnings: Fluff but mainly ANGST, Isekai Theme, Will be Going back and Forth between LADS universe and our universe, slow burn because Sylus is tryna find you :))

Funfact: I remembered the TV Show: Westworld and how the characters of the game gain conciousness when writing this fic

Songs to listen to: NCT Dream - Broken Melodies, Aespa - Welcome to My World, NCT Dream - Like We Just Met

N109 Zone - 01:48 AM

It was in the middle of the night. When all are asleep, people in the N109 zone, those in the shadows have only started to wake up and get on about their day, including Sylus. Slowly awakening from his slumber, Sylus saw the girl that was beside him, fast asleep. Her chest was rising and falling in a steady motion; indicating that she was in a deep sleep.

Smiling to himself, Sylus decided to scootch a bit closer and caressed the girl’s cheek. But as he did, the girl immediately grabbed his wrist tightly and jerked awake. “Who the fuck…w-where am I?!”

Hearing the girl’s words, Sylus knew. “You’re not her…”

Real World - 09:28 AM

You woke up with a pounding headache but slowly regained your consciousness, you noticed how the bed wasn’t as big nor was it as warm as when you were used to. Jerking up, you took in the room you were in. The bright white ceiling was the first thing you see, the smell of alcohol and blood was faint but you could smell it, and then you heard a beeping noise which made you turn and saw that your hand was hooked onto a monitor and an IV drip.

Whipping your head around, you search for your phone until you find it and immediately look at the date when you suddenly get a notification from both Instagram and Twitter mentioning the new update for Love and Deepspace.

“I’m back…” you sobbed yet your fingers glided across the screen of your phone, pressing the game that you swore you were in

As the game loads, you see the cutscenes of all of the characters and can’t help but feel emotionally overwhelmed whenever you see Sylus’ cutscenes.

Once the game loaded and you could hear that cafe jingle along with those familiar red eyes, you tried to see whether or not anything had changed in the game other than the new updates but when you clicked on his tall figure, the lines he said were nothing out of the ordinary. Even in the text message icon, you couldn’t text him like you did when you were in the game.

“Was it all just a dream?”

“Y-you’re awake!!” you heard someone talk and as your eyes looked at the doorframe, it was the nurse

You soon found out that you had been in a coma for a little over 2 weeks yet it felt like you were in the game for 2 months, maybe even more. Your best friends came to visit you every day and now that you’re awake, they were bombarding you with food, life updates, and all.

For once, you actually didn’t feel as lonely as you were when you appeared in the game.

Maybe it truly was all just a dream…

From a distance, a black crow was watching your interaction with your friends from a tree that was just outside of your window. After some time, the crow eventually fled and flew away from the tree.

N109 Zone - 04:18 AM

Sylus was beyond pissed. He took MC to where he took you in the beginning to get your evol and aether core checked but additionally, he wanted to know if you were truly not in the MC’s body. Sylus’ worker questioned as to why he brought MC again to check her evol and aether core, confusing the Onychinus’ leader.

Even when the two came home, the twins didn’t notice any difference from MC. What’s wrong with everyone? You’re not MC and it goes the other way as well. Why were the twins pestering MC who to Sylus, was not you.

“But boss, Miss Hunter and you have known each other for over 2 months now. What do you mean she’s not her?” Luke questioned, genuinely confused at his boss’ attitude

“She’s not. Have you forgotten who taught you both how to cook the simplest meal? The one that bought you those bulletproof vests?” Sylus demanded, something, anything about your sudden disappearance or at the very least, anyone other than him remembering your existence

“It’s Miss Hunter, though?” Kieran replied, making Sylus groan. “Just, leave me alone for the next few days” Sylus left the room and walked past MC who grabbed his wrist, making his brow arch in confusion.

Sighing, Sylus turned to see MC. “What is it that you want?”

“Where are you going? I went through all the trouble to get the N109 zone and I want answers regarding the aether core” MC demanded but Sylus just chuckled and used his evol to remove MC’s hand from his wrist

“You already have the aether core you’re looking for. Why don’t you go back and ask your doctor about that? I have other matters to attend to. Like why are you here instead of her” Sylus mentioned, walking away until MC talked to him

“You’re always mentioning her but you never mentioned her name. Who are you exactly talking about and what does it have to do with me?” MC questioned and this time, Sylus grabbed her by her neck and pinned her to the nearest wall

“Don’t tempt my patience. I only have so much left ever since your attitude shows up instead of something else I want. From here on out, I could care less about your little quest. You can even have that brooch you’re wearing to get in and out of the N109 zone without getting harmed. But I want you to leave. Go back to your doctor, that fish man of an artist, or fake hunter for all I care. When I come back to this place, I hope that you’re not here anymore. Or you’ll hurt even more” Sylus warned, releasing MC as he went who knows where.

Sylus went into his car, the car that you love to drive in. Though you were just a soul in MC’s body, he could immediately tell the two of you apart. What scent do you like, the small trinkets that you would buy to keep his things more organized, some small keychain plushies that he would put on his keys which is in contrast to his scary look.

You might just be a soul that just so happens to be in MC’s body, the body of a person he should’ve been interacting with, the one he should’ve been bound to. But why does his heart feel incomplete? Why does his soul long for your own.

Gripping onto the steering wheel, Sylus looked at the plushie you put in this car. It was a koala, one of your favourite plushies, because you told him that you looked like a koala when Sylus carried you around. “I swore to you that if this were to happen, I would find you. Regardless what happens, I will find a way to get back to you. Our stories’ unfinished, sweetie. Wait for me. I’ll do anything to get back to you”

Real World

It’s been several months since you woke up. You still played the game but not as often anymore. You got a job at your friend’s office as a secretary. It pays well, you and your friend are roommates, life has been going fairly well that you barely played the game that provided you comfort.

One day, however, there was a bouquet of red Carnations mixed with pink Camillas on your desk with a note attached to it. “I hope this gets to you. If this ever reaches you, it means that I’m another step closer to seeing you again. There’s this uneasy feeling I’ve been feeling since you were gone. I promise I won’t stop finding you”

Confused, you asked everyone, including the delivery man who delivered the flowers to you but no one knew where it came from. It didn’t even mention your name and only a description of you.

Brushing it off, you thought it must’ve been some kind of prank until several more flowers reached you. One after another, there were notes along with the flowers which all made your heart clench because whoever this person was, it seemed that either you left a very deep impression on them or this was some sort of stalker.

“Did the first one reach you? I’m getting closer”

“I hope that you’re eating well. Wait for me”

“It seems that you’ve forgotten about me once more. No matter, I’ll be sure to jog your memory once we meet again”

Another year has finally passed and the bouquet and notes kept on coming until you saw the flowers and notes that came in. Instead of the usual red Carnation or pink Camillas or even sometimes Forget me nots, this time it was a bouquet of black and red roses with a note of a familiar handwriting and scent.

“I’ve finally found you. You said that you were worried about me finding the real you but to me, you’re just as perfect as your soul. Your face, your body, it matches your soul perfectly. And even though you might’ve forgotten about me, I assure you that my love for you is still the same like we just met. Perhaps in the game, I would allow you to go live your life without me because it’s safer for you. But here, looking at you, I can feel myself coming alive once more. Whether you try to move on, I know that there’s a lingering feeling behind your pretty head thinking of the possibility. And you would be correct, sweetie. I’m fulfilling my promise to you. For there is no love greater than mine.

P.S: we should thank Mephisto for always managing to find you when I couldn’t

-Sylus”

You were in shock. Sure, there was a small voice, hidden behind all your to-dos, your schedules, your wants, likes, needs. A faint voice telling you of the possibility that perhaps Sylus was the one to send you all those flowers and notes but you were in your world, the real world. You would lock that faint voice and never think about it again. You were realistic. There was no way that a fictional 3D man would send you all of that.

And Mephisto? He’s a bird. A mechanical bird that is tied with Sylus. Everything seemed ridiculous. You couldn’t think straight for the rest of the day until your boss called you for a sudden meeting outside of the office and at a restaurant.

The restaurant was filled with high-class people, some were doing business with another while others were simply finding ways to spend their money. Suddenly, it reminded you of the time when you were in MC’s body and Sylus would take the two of you out to dinner.

Remembering Sylus, the flowers, and the note, you decided to excuse yourself to the restroom but in reality, you decided to log into the very game you downloaded to seek comfort. The nostalgia was coming back. They made a new update and introduced a new male character. Once your game loads, Sylus is still in the game and when you poke him, thinking that he’ll respond like how he would when a player hasn’t logged in for so long, he surprises you.

“You’re probably wondering why am I not responding to you in a way that you expect. Well, why don’t you check my messages on the message feature, sweetie?” Sylus mentioned and immediately, you went to open the message feature in the game and once again, you were shocked with what you read on the screen that you had to cover your mouth.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it, kitten? I’m sad that you’ve forgotten about me but I’m genuinely happy with how you’re living your life so far”

“But if I were to tell you that I want to be apart of your life here, would you accept me?”

You were given the chance to answer him, to reply to this sudden message but your boss had already called you back and unfortunately, you had to go back to the table and sit beside your boss.

As you were about to sit down, you heard that familiar soothing voice that always calms your nerves; especially when you’re in the N109 zone. “Is this your secretary that we’ve been waiting for?”

Immediately, you looked up and met with those soft bright red eyes behind small glasses. The white hair you’ve gone through with your fingers was styled like how you first met him. The figure sitting in front of you was wearing a soft grey sweater and black jeans.

And that smile, that smile that you’re so used to seeing everyday is now showing in front of you again. “Pleased to meet you, sweetheart. Shall we begin the meeting?”

Throughout the meeting, you tried your best to pay attention and jot down all the notes you needed. You struggled for a moment and even towards the end, you stutter your thank you and goodbyes until the white-hair man called you.

“Waiting for someone, sweetie?” you heard that damn voice as you could feel all hairs on your skin stand up

Turning around, you finally got a good look at him. All of his 190cm height was towering over your figure. Your actual real-life self and not the MC you created in the game.

On one side, you wanted to talk, to question him if all of this was just another one of those visions you used to have. On the other, you wanted to jump at the man in front of you. To cry in his arms as he holds you close. But nothing. You were frozen in your spot as this Sylus look-alike smirked at you and held his index out which suddenly a black crow rest on.

“Is, is that…” you managed to utter, making the man in front of you chuckle

“Mephisto. An actual crow this time” he said, extending his hand out so the black crow was within your reach

Extending your own index out, the black crow, Mephisto went onto your index and you instinctively stroke its head. “We never stop looking for you, you know”

You look up to see those eyes that once were filled with rage now filled with sadness. Sighing, you tried to remind yourself that this is the real world, not your game.

“I'm sorry, sir. You must've gotten the wrong person. I don't think we’ve met before this meeting today. Your bird must be very friendly to have gone on another person’s hand” you mentioned, intending to return the black crow, still not believing that the man and bird in front of you are who you think they are

But instead, the man in front of you turned and took something from his pocket. “Is that so? Well then either you don’t want to remember what we’ve been through or Mephisto might’ve gotten the wrong person. Then how about we reintroduce ourselves to one another?”

“I’m Sylus, this is Mephisto. We were from a faraway land called the N109 zone. For the past year, I've been building my multimillion security tech company” Sylus mentioned, extending his hand out, revealing the brooch that you once wore as a promise to Sylus to stay by him

Shocked to see the brooch, you stutter at your words but Sylus noticed this and gently took one of your hands which you didn’t deny. “I meant what I said and I’m keeping my promise. My only regret is I couldn’t come find you sooner”

“H-how? This has got to be a joke. You’re not real. You’re not actually here. I must be dreaming again. I’m going mad” you started to lose your mind but Sylus pulled you into a hug

“Tell me this isn’t real then. Tell me that you don’t see me. Tell me that you don’t feel this warmth we both have wanted for a long time. Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll gladly walk away from you so that you can continue to live your life as is but don’t expect me not to want to be a part of your life. Don’t think that even if I walk away today, I won’t try my best to still keep an eye on you” Sylus stated, whispering into your ear, kissing right below your ear

Taking in his calming leather scent, you slowly sob in Sylus’ chest as he strokes your head, calming you. “You’re such a stubborn crow” you finally hug Sylus, indirectly accepting him back into your life

“I know. But it’s worth it. I finally get back to you. Though I can’t offer you as much as I would when we were in the N109 zone, I do promise you that I will be here this time. I’m not letting you go that easily. So, you’re willing to let me back?” Sylus asked, making you chuckle

“Welcome to the real world, my world, Sylus” you said, getting on your tiptoe to give his cheek a kiss but instead, Sylus turned his head, held your neck and leaned for an actual kiss

A/N: Ngl, I was simping over my own writing of this. Where can we find an irl Sylus T^T

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notiddygxthgf · 1 year

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1/2

★ pairings: choso kamo x f!reader

★ synopsis: Yuuji Itadori truly was the best friend a girl like you could ask for, but he wasn't the only reason you came to visit. (His older brother, the devilishly handsome Choso Kamo, had always been the apple of your eye).

★ c.w.: slow burn, friends to lovers, eventual smut, childhood sweethearts, kinda, mutual pining, choso with a tongue piercing, rough sex, cunnilingus, backshots, unprotected sex, regular people au, two year age gap, PWP.

★ a/n: hi pookie dookies!! ive been wanting to write choso for a while!! this is a one shot I split into two chapters bc its like, 11k words.... but! if u guys request it, I might add more chapters!!! thank u for ur support as always, muah muah!! (btw if u like tokyo rev go check out my other shit teehee).

★ w.c.; 4.5k

best friend's brother ; chapter index

YUUJI ITADORI WAS truly the best friend a girl like you could ask for. The two of you were kind of like childhood friends, though you hadn’t been close for a good portion of it. You didn’t remember the exact day Itadori had invited you into his home – though you knew it was some time in elementary school. The two of you had been practically inseparable ever since.

There was one thing about the pinkette’s home life in particular that seemed to catch your young eye.

His older brother, Choso.

He was two years your senior – dark hair, dark eyes, he looked nothing like his brother. He had this scar over the bridge of his nose from an accident that had happened when he was younger. He was an elusive figure, something of a mystery to your young mind – he was always there, but never there.

He was content to dwell in the background like some sort of side character.

The first time you’d ever met him had been at one of Itadori’s baseball games. He’d invited you to show up – and at this point you had to have been no older than 8 or 9 – and show out for him. And show out you sure did.

You had your mother do your hair up real nice in those cute little pigtails you used to love wearing. You had scribbled his jersey number onto a plain white tee the night before, donning some hot pink leggings beneath.

And you screamed for Itadori, cheered as loud as your little lungs would allow you to. He won, of course, but that’s not the point here. You’d gone up to him after the game, wrapping your short arms around his frame – and at the time he was no larger than you were – and telling him he’d done great. Itadori grinned at you, faint blush dusting his cheeks, and thanked you. His smile was a thousand suns in one.

A hand on his shoulder had shaken the two of you out of the moment. A bigger hand.

It was his 11-year-old adoptive brother, Choso Kamo. An angel of the darkness, as corny as that sounds, but in that moment you swore the gates of heaven resided in those dark eyes of his. He stood out against the bright backdrop of the September afternoon. The sunlight filtered through his short black hair, reflected off of his pale skin, shooting rays right into your stomach and sending a horde of butterflies fluttering.

“This your girlfriend, Yuuji?” He commented with a half-grin.

You remember turning red at his comment, waving your arms around wildly. You remember the way his eyes creased as he laughed at you, one of the few times you recall seeing him laugh.

So what if you had heart eyes for your best friend’s older brother? It was harmless, just a little crush you had formed on the guy you felt had stolen your heart away. Harmless.

At least, it was until the two of you grew older. You started junior high, you started puberty , and as your body changed, so did his. So did your feelings, morphing from a butterfly crush to something more akin to desire as you began to see him in a different light.

He lost the baby fat around his face. His eyes had darkened, shoulders broadening. His hair got longer, falling into his boyish, scarred face in a way that rendered you entirely breathless.

He was becoming a man.

You were 13 and 15 now, stealing sneaky glances at him whenever he would pass by his brother’s room. Yuji, who had just been boasting about how he was starting to get taller than you, would pay it no mind.

It was just a crush. He was two years your senior, after all. You had no chance.

You were 13 when he would poke fun at you and his brother. He was 15 when he would laugh at the way your face would go red. He didn’t know that it wasn’t his brother you wanted.

14 and 16 when you first began to notice the subtle slope of his shoulders become more pronounced, more defined. When you began to notice the way his muscles would strain against the sleeves of his tee shirt.

He had always been a large guy, having hit quite a few growth spurts along the way. He had to have been about 5’10 at that point, practically towering over you. But lately, you thought he must have been hitting the gym. He would walk past Yuji’s open door – and in their house it was a family policy to leave the door open when you came over, even if Yuji was only a brother to you – with gym gear on. He would come back with sweat-slicked hair plastered to his forehead, chest rising and falling steadily.

Something about that made your hormones go wild for him. Inappropriate thoughts began to chew away at you from the inside, images of what he could do to you with such strength, even if you weren’t too certain what ‘doing’ even entailed at that time. The scent of his pheromones, something like that – or maybe it was the way his gym clothes hugged his body while he marched towards the bathroom to take a shower – it made you feral for him.

He was so much bigger than you now. It made your head spin with feelings you didn’t quite understand. It was just a crush… so why did you stay awake at night imagining him panting over you, sweat trickling down his bare chest? The way his muscles might ripple under your hesitant, inexperienced touch? The warmth that would bloom over your face when you imagined his lips on yours – this man who you had never gotten close to.

A man who you remembered having a late night conversation with in the kitchen while Yuuji slept right down the hall one night.

He was ransacking the cabinet for snacks when you found him. He relaxed once he’d noticed it was you, the two of you eventually falling into sugar-fueled conversation after he cracked open a pack of double-stuff oreos. A conversation about the taboo , about the things you had been told to keep quiet.

“You don’t have to be all flustered ‘round me, y’know,” He had told you rather softly. The two of you were separated by the kitchen island, but it felt like he was way to close to you. “You can ask me anything you’re curious about.”

“I’m not curious!” You had whisper-shouted back with a roll of your eyes. “I don’t want to know about your sex life, you whore.”

“You just asked me what it felt like, liar,” He noted, quirking a brow at your outward reaction. He loved to get under your skin. Lived for it. “And for the record, I’m not a whore. Most of the times I’ve been touched have been with my own hand.”

“I’ve never tried… that, ” You mused quietly, head low. Your face burned with the heat of your admission.

He popped an oreo into his mouth, dusting his hands off carelessly. “What, masturbating?”

Your heart did a weak somersault. “Quiet!” You hissed at him. “Now what if Yuuji heard you talking to me like that?”

“Calm your shit,” he told you. “You’re too young f’me. Relax.”

He only chuckled at your words, shaking his head quietly while he resealed the oreos. Still, if he was thinking anything about your reaction, he didn’t voice it. You were glad.

But it hurt. It hurt, hearing him talk about you like you didn’t have a chance. Like none of the effort you put into your appearance around him had any effect on him because you were too young to steal his attention away. None of it mattered – the push up bras, the low cut tanks, the cherry lip balm.

In his eyes, you were only a kid.

“I’m a virgin,” you had blurted out, for some odd reason you still didn’t quite understand.

The pause that befell the two of you was one that you remembered years later.

“I can tell,” He had said, slim waist swinging side to side as he walked around the kitchen island, towards the exit behind you. He sauntered over to you with a smirk on his face and a plate in his hand, dark hair pulled back into a bun while his layers fell around his face. He was breathtaking, handsome, tantalizing build towering over you.

16, A man whose voice had dropped again in the last few months whispered those words, the ones you would never forget, “‘S fun. You should try it.”

You didn’t know what he had wanted you to try – having sex or performing it on yourself.

Either way, that night when you went home was the first time you ever tried to touch yourself. Fantasized about him whispering in your ear, holding you down, talking you through – while your pink-manicured fingers worked you up to your first orgasm.

Two years had never felt so far apart.

Choso had a girlfriend at one point. It was only for, like, four months – he was 17, you were 15. You only found this out when he’d come home after a pretty rough night with her. He looked pissed, lips pressed into a thin line, arms crossed over his broad chest.

You knew he was too old for you, that you weren’t old enough for him, more specifically – but, still, you batted those lashes of yours up at him while you asked him what was wrong.

You didn’t tell him about the way butterflies erupted in your stomach like a hundred angry guisers when he told you his girlfriend had cheated, left him for another man.

You hugged him instead, telling him that it would be alright, telling him that she never deserved him anyway. You were the one for him, and one day he would see that.

Instead of turning to you – who had been right there all along, he had just been too blind to notice – he took his anger out on everyone else. He became cold, emotionally closed off. He became a serial heartbreaker.

For a while, whenever you came over to Yuuji’s, his bedroom would be vacant. Open, dark, just as he had left it. For a while, he would spend his nights with faceless hookups and meaningless dates. Itadori would call you to complain about it, about how “we’re home alone for dinner tonight and Choso just walked out”.

Your heart broke, too. He just didn’t know it.

He didn’t know you were waiting for him to come to his senses, for him to see you as a woman .

You were seated in the kitchen across from Itadori enjoying another late-night snack, sharing some hearty laughter. You had always adored your conversations with him, the ‘After-Hours’ talks, as you would often refer to them.

Your night had taken an unexpected turn when Itadori’s brother burst through the kitchen door with a giggling girl in tow. The late hour suggested that this was no ordinary visit.

Still, even though you couldn’t pry your eyes away from her, you didn’t say anything. You stayed quiet while your heart shattered into one hundred million pieces inside of your tight chest.

Itadori’s laughter had died down, giving way to an awkward silence. He greeted his brother with a smile, “Hey, bro. Who’s she?”

Choso shrugged, dark hair shifting over his eyes that seemed to glint beneath the dim lighting as he replied, “Company.”

His mischievous tone and the girl at his side left little to the imagination. Your cheeks flushed as you exchanged another quick glance with Itadori.

You felt frozen in place. You couldn’t move. No, all you could do was sit there like a dumbass and stare at him, watch the man you loved liked guide her by her hand up the stairs.

Of course. You had been naive to think that he would wait for you. He would be 18 next year.

He was out of your league.

Feeling the need for a momentary escape, you had excused yourself, muttering something about needing to use the bathroom. You had stood up, heart racing, and made your way up the stairs and towards the bathroom.

Conveniently, of course, it was located just down the hall from Choso’s room.

You crept down the hall slowly. As you passed by his door, you caught a sound. Something unmistakable – two people in hushed conversation uttering words in between kisses.

“Choso, baby.”

Another quiet kiss. Their lips separated.

“I’m ready.”

“You brought protection?”

Your embarrassment grew as you realized the intimate nature of the encounter happening on the other side of the door. Quickly, you averted your gaze, face burning, and ran off to the bathroom.

It took you a moment to catch your breath. You couldn’t believe the awkwardness of the whole situation. Shit, you didn’t even know how to approach him after this.

Worst of all, you didn’t even know why you were still only able to imagine it was your voice behind that door instead of hers. That it was him pressing butterfly kisses to your lips. Him asking you if you were ready for him.

With your cheeks tinged a rosey hue, you resolved to keep yourself locked away in the bathroom until the thoughts subsided.

It seemed like it was a new girl every time you came to visit. A blonde, a brunette – he didn’t seem to have a preference. Every time you would watch him walk another girl to the front door, bidding her safe travels on her way home, your hope would wither away.

But the feelings never subsided. No, even when you would spend a little more time walking past his room on your way to the bathroom to eavesdrop. Not even when you would hear hushed whispers and quiet moans from the other side and imagine what kind of lover Choso would be. Would he leave marks? Talk dirty to you? Was he a giver or a taker?

Not even when the two of you would cross paths in the kitchen after his plans for the evening went home. He would turn to you with a knowing smirk, hair down and messy even though it did nothing to hide the red and purple love bites that littered the valley of his neck.

And he looked so good that you often found yourself wishing it was you who had left those marks.

It was as if he knew you were dying inside. Like something was beginning to change inside of him after all of these years. Like he took some strangely cruel pleasure in showing off to you.

No, you would have to remind yourself in vain. I’m too young for him.

You were just a girl in his eyes. That’s what you maintained.

So you went out and retaliated by losing your V-card to some kid from your class. Well, in your head it was retaliation. He was none the wiser about it, but it gave you a sense of satisfaction knowing you were able to fuck people who weren’t him.

Take that, Choso.

Yuji groaned, laying spread eagle over his carpeted floor, arms spread out on either side of him. He had grown so much – you could hardly contain the way your eyes wandered from his pretty face to his new physique. Like his brother, Itadori was a well-defined man.

God picked favorites, and it wasn’t you.

There was an open notebook splayed over his face. He gripped the spine, tossing it to the side.

“I’m over this chemistry shit,” He sighed.

You couldn’t possibly have agreed more. Still, you continued to sketch the rough outline of a circle onto the sheet of construction paper in your hand. You would need to make it perfect, just right, so that you would be able to incorporate it into your group project.

You turned the pencil over between your fingertips. “We’re gonna need more supplies.”

"Like what?" Yuuji asked, his frustration still evident. "I’m pretty sure we’ve purchased, like… every craft supply on the market."

You quirked a brow at the thought. "Scissors…?"

Yuuji pursed his lips, his brow furrowing. "I don’t have those."

"Of course you don’t," you sighed, shaking your head. "Who the hell doesn’t have scissors?"

"I lent them to Choso," he retorted with a hint of annoyance.

Your heart dropped at the mention of Choso. You couldn't help but picture his face, his body, and wondered if he was asleep. You didn't want to disturb him.

Yuuji sat up, nudging you with his foot playfully. "Hey, why don't you go over there and get them? Make some goo-goo eyes, bat your lashes. I’m sure he wouldn’t say no to you."

You hesitated for a moment, considering your options. "I'm sure I can find some in my backpack," you said instead, trying to avoid the suggestion.

"Come onnnn, you know you wanna go over there," Yuuji teased with a sly grin. He leaned in closer, cupping his hand around his mouth, and whispered, " He just got back from the gym. "

Another nudge from Yuuji finally made you relent. "Fine," you said with a playful roll of your eyes. "I’ll be back."

Only moments later, you found yourself standing in front of Choso's door, a mix of anticipation and nervousness coursing through you as you raised your hand up to knock. You rapped twice against the wooden surface. There was a shuffling sound on the other side of the world, one that made your heartrate pick up, and then the door cracked open.

He had one earbud in his ear, the other dangling over his chest. He wore a black wife pleaser and some grey sweats that hung loose over his hips – leaving little to the imagination. He looked so strong, muscular arm braced against the doorframe while the other held it open. His waist was thin, toned, so much so that you could see it through the fabric of his shirt.

He smelled like he had just hopped out of the shower – like cherry and musk. His wet hair was done back into a messy bun. His eyes raked over your trembling form.

With a gentle, familiar grin, he said, “What’s up?”

Your throat felt dry. You swallowed anyway, with a great deal of discomfort, averting your wide-eyed gaze. Ignoring the way your eyes lingered over the pale skin of his toned navel revealed where his tank had ridden up, over the v line that dipped down into his waistband, over the neatly trimmed trail that led down south .

“Do… Do you have scissors?” You asked him. You didn’t like how timid you sounded, or the way your stomach churned at the sight of him.

He paused for a moment, and somehow you knew he was looking at you. You were suddenly very glad you had worn a fitted v-neck tee shirt today, one that would have provided him with a bird’s eye view of your cleavage.

He’s looking at me.

“Yeah,” he muttered quietly, stepping away from the door and into his room. You had only wandered into Choso’s quarters a few times with Yuuji, usually to steal something from him while he wasn’t home. You had never really taken the time to notice the band posters taped up over his walls, the black sheets on his bed, the clothes scattered over his floor in typical teenage boy fashion.

You poked your head in, taking a quick look around while his muscular back was turned. Ultimately, it was him you wound up gawking at, hungry eyes following the well-defined curve of his back into his slim waist, the curve of his bubble butt.

You looked away just as he had turned around. If he noticed you staring, he didn’t say anything. A red pair of scissors dangled from his curled finger.

“Here,” was all he said, offering the tool to you.

You didn’t know when conversations between the two of you had gotten to be so tense, so strained. It used to come effortlessly. These days, however, it seemed as if you were always trying to run away from conversation with him.

You took it from him gently, dying a bit more inside when his large fingers brushed against yours, offering a slight nod in return. “Thanks.”

16 and 18, now.

You had texted Choso asking for his help on a particularly difficult math assignment. He was older, after all, you didn’t doubt that he was better equipped to complete the homework than you were.

That was the first time you had ever hung out alone with him. Without Itadori.

You would never forget the way the atmosphere changed when he sat close to you at the kitchen table. The way your skin prickled with electricity beneath his hesitant touch. He poked fun at you and your incompetence. You didn’t even care, not when he was sitting so close to you.

Alone.

The possibilities that filled your mind were less than holy.

Tensions were at an all time high. He had leaned over to help you, breath ghosting over the shell of your ear, when it finally snapped.

When you met his gaze with uncertainty in your eyes, making no real effort to put any distance between you and the man you had been pining after for so many years. In that moment, you saw it – saw him, saw that he finally looked at you as something more than just a girl.

Saw the way his gaze softened as he leaned into you. You let him get closer, close enough that his nose brushed against the tip of yours.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” You remarked, even though you ached to be trapped in this moment with him a while longer.

He licked his lips, murmuring, “You’re probably right.”

Nothing compared to the delicate brush of his lips against yours as the two of you finally met in the middle, The way fireworks blew up in your gut. The way he cradled your cheek gently in the palm of his hand, crossing that unspoken boundary that the two of you had been toeing for so long.

Though you had made out with a few guys before, in your eyes, you had shared your first kiss with Choso in the kitchen that night. The first of many to come .

The summer between 16 and 17 was spent sharing secret moments with him behind doors, between appearances.

You sat on the couch next to Itadori, trapped in the second installment of a film series the two of you had been watching yesterday. You were wearing a zip-up hoodie over your school uniform.

You had come over to do homework. Just like yesterday, though, you wound up fucking around.

Itadori was far too engrossed in whatever was happening on screen to notice his brother leaving the kitchen just a few feet off to the side. He looked you up and down, dark eyes reaching into your soul and picking you apart at the seams. With a barely noticeable motion, he nodded towards the stairs.

You nodded back, heart thrumming wildly in your chest.

Choso gripped the meat of your ass in his hands, throwing your legs around his waist while his mouth danced against yours. You tossed your arms around his shoulders, head reeling from how effortlessly he had picked you up. He walked the two of you backwards until your back hit the door.

He continued to ravage you against that surface, too, tongue slipping in between your lips and exploring your mouth. You trembled against him, trying your best to keep up with him.

It felt so good – being pressed up against him, being given his attention. You wished it was more than secret kisses here and there, of course, but you would take what you could get.

“Missed you,” he hummed against your lips.

You didn’t even care if that was the line he used on all of the other girls. In that moment, all that mattered was his lips against yours, his hands on you, his attention.

You snaked your hands up the back of his neck and into his hair, twisting some of the dark strands between your fingertips. “I should really get back soon,” You gasped, relishing in the way his kisses felt up and down your neck.

He relented, letting you down. You pressed one more chaste kiss to his lips.

“Didn’t mean to keep ‘ya,” he chuckled lowly, breaths still heavy from the makeout session you had been having only seconds before. He nodded towards the door behind you. “Get back out there.”

You nodded wordlessly, opening the door. With one final smile, you slipped behind it. You felt like you were floating as your legs carried you down the stairs and into the living room. You didn’t even care how disheveled you looked.

Thankfully, Yuuji didn’t notice the way you were wiping your mouth on the back of your hand as you plopped onto the couch beside him. He also didn’t notice when his brother wandered down the stairs a few minutes later, or the way he smiled knowingly at you before disappearing into the kitchen.

You were 17 when Choso left for college. He was 19 when his brother had thrown him a going-away party.

There were 10 of you in the living room, a few of Yuuji and his childhood friends all gathered around the coffee table. A movie was on. Some of them were engrossed in a card game in the corner of the room.

You and Choso lingered behind the group, situated comfortably on the couch behind all of the action. He was sitting so close that your thighs brushed against his, so close that it felt like he, too, wanted to savor the moment before interacting with you became a rarity. Before he moved out and started a new life somewhere hours away.

He didn’t voice any of these feelings, keeping his dark eyes unreadable and steady on the movie that Yuji had put on in the background. Selena Gomez was playing from a speaker somewhere behind the couch.

You almost wanted to lean your head on his shoulder. Almost. Never mind the fact that everyone would see it.

You distinctly remember the way he shifted closer to you when you pulled out a blanket. You let him make the bold move, seemingly unfazed by the potential audience only feet away from the two of you.

He tossed the plush blanket over his legs. The lights were dim. Dim enough that they wouldn’t see the way your face flushed at the proximity.

Sixteen minutes passed. You felt like you were going to explode.

Somewhere along the way, though it’s all a bit fuzzy now, you remember feeling his hand creep down beneath the blanket to rest on your thigh. You fought to remain composed, even though the darkness undoubtedly shrouded whatever it was that Choso was planning to do.

He lingered over the skin on your thighs left bare by the shorts you had chosen to wear. His finger traced over you, igniting fire in your nerves. Again, you said nothing, letting him go about tracing shapes on your thigh while his face remained stoic and composed.

You glanced between him and the blanket. You couldn’t see the imprint of his hand moving, somehow, but you could practically feel the heat radiating from beneath it when his index finger slipped between your thighs.

19 years old. Two years had never seemed so far apart. When he was the age you were now, you recalled his voice being quite a few pitches higher. The same voice that had dropped even lower over the last year, now drawing you closer to him as he murmured into your ear, “Can I touch you?”

Parting your legs infinitesimally, you wordlessly granted him entrance. His fingers dipped down, ghosting over your cotton panties in a way that had you wondering how well of a disguise the dim lighting really was.

“What if they see us?” You had whispered back, even quieter. None of them had bothered to turn back. Even still, you wondered if one of them had X-Ray vision.

His voice seemed even deeper as it vibrated against your side. “You’ll be quiet for me, won’t you?”

The moment his fingers dipped beneath the waistband of your panties, you knew you were in no position to disagree.

Yuuji and his friends were none the more wiser. Yuji didn’t notice when you whined quietly, letting him slip two fingers into your aching cunt, or when his brother worked you open on his fingers.

He didn’t notice when the two of you had left to make out heatedly in the pantry, right against the box of assorted chips, right where anyone could walk in, turn on the light, and see you there pressed up against him disappeared to the pantry for ten minutes.

Though the moment you returned to see him glancing at you with a curious brow raised, you knew he had finally caught on. Even if he didn’t say anything about it.

It would be another three months before you would see Choso again.

I obviously do not own jjk or anything related to it. please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 20 days

Text

dire iv, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: Jeon Jungkook and his wolf girlfriend are going on a date! Outside!! Not just fucking in his bedroom all day! Who would have thought? (Not me.) Can't get ahead of ourselves though. She has to attended to her official duties and him? Unfortunately, he begins to realize the world around him is much crueler than he thought.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, world-building, the Dire = wolf people, species discrimination / prejudice; maknae line goon antics; smut (fem reader, spit kink (an understatement), unprotected sex (ty biology), m and f-receiving oral, face-fucking, cowgirl, creampie, cum-eating, biting/marking, m-masturbation, doggy); violence; non-idol!AU - werewolfAU / soulmates; werewolf!reader x blond, human!Jungkook; switches between JK's POV, your POV, and the Dire Alpha's POV (your dad), ft bodyguard!Park Jimin and bodyguard!Kim Taehyung

best doggirl and the spit kink king are back! my writing style has changed from 2021, did my best to summarize as you read but if you want the other parts: (i), (ii), (iii) happy birthday JK 2024! enjoy this gift? XD inspired by YOASOBI - 怪物 (Kaibutsu)

part iii

“You have to admit. You look really cool.”

Those dark gold eyes seemed to burn. The wet, visceral sound of black lips peeling back, revealing sharp, white teeth that could tear holes into his flesh with ease. They glistened in the moonlight, along with her pink tongue that lolled out, curling over the edge of her snout in a slow, predatory motion.

Sexy as fuck.

Jeon Jungkook tried not to quiver in excitement, but he was sure his death grip on the silvery fur of her chest was giving him away. Underneath his knuckles he could feel hard muscle and the heavy thud of his mate’s heartbeat. Well, there was probably some technicality in that wording, but that didn’t stop him from already thinking it.

“I’m starting to think you might like this form more than my human form.”

The female Dire wolf mused, tilting her head, breathing above his hair. He had continued to bleach it the ashy blond with a darker shadow root. His scalp wasn’t happy about it, but Jungkook liked to think of it as complimentary to the love of his life. Yes, uh, the giant wolf with the black-tipped silver fur sitting in his bedroom. Yes. Her thick tail thumped on the hardwood. She was doing that thing.

That thing with her saliva.

“I… I d-don’t…” Jungkook panted, but he was rapidly losing the plot.

The Dire seemed to grin.

“At least during sex.”

Drool slipped down the edge of those black lips and splattered onto his forehead, making him moan and close his eyes. He tried not to writhe, to scream, to collapse. There was no human ecstasy that could match what was surging through his veins now. It was a crime to call it spit. The second the drips hit his skin, his nerves seemed to sing with carnal need, all sensations heightened with a single drop. The wolf dipped her head, splashing saliva down his chest, and, as if possessed, his hands flew up and smeared it all over him, sending himself into a feral frenzy as it felt the slick liquid leak through his fingers, cling to his skin, down his abdomen, hot, burning, intense, his lungs on fire with primal desire. He could not speak.

His knees gave out.

He felt a padded, leathery paw catch him, claws nicking at his arm, and then a tuft of softness by his legs. Her tail. But before Jungkook could say anything, do anything, scramble to screw his brain on right, her tongue descended and pressed flat against his sternum.

“O-O-Ooooh, fuck meeeeeee...”

He opened his eyes to a hazy vision of pointed jaws, sending another surge of violent need through him, but at this point he could do nothing but submit, pinned to the ground, hypnotized by bright gold eyes as the wolf slid down, wrapping her tongue around his achingly hard shaft with teeth bared.

Okay, so, maybe Jungkook was a kinky freak but that was because of biology.

Not by choice.

Er, right.

And he wasn’t a furry.

Right.

The tip of her wolf tongue hoked around the oversensitive head of his cock and made his head snap back, nearly knocking himself out as pleasure tore through his blood. It was similar to human sex, except multiplied hundredfold, nearly resulting in an out-of-body experience. His palms slapped the floor, curling into fists in attempt to ground himself with knuckles into wood. Jungkook could relate the fetishists that obsessed over the Dire and willingly became sex slaves. Not that he condoned it per se, but, well, pot calling the kettle black and all that.

The sound of grinding bone.

A deep growl that turned into a husky chuckle.

Her human form was as beautiful as her wolf form. He marveled how quickly she could transform in front of his eyes, with her mouth hardly leaving his skin. She still retained her silvery ears and fluffy tail, the telltale features of the Dire, along with the wolf tattoo on her left hand. Like all of her kind, she had a serial number. But she was more than numbers. Scarred skin, powerful muscles, a mole under the inner corner of her right eye. An unmistakable air of regality and overwhelming power. She was, indeed, the Dire Alpha’s one and only daughter.

And, in Jungkook’s humble and purely unbiased opinion, insanely hot.

“And you say you could handle me while I’m in heat,” she taunted, licking upwards, spit sticking to his balls and making his eyes roll back into his head. “It’ll take you a few more years, I predict.”

“S-Shut up… aaah, yes…”

Oh, he thought about it. Not that he wanted to be a dad right now, but, someday. She had said before their children would follow the species of the mother. A little of pups, maybe? Or one by one? Jungkook had no idea what the specifics were, but he sure as hell thought about how fucking mind-blowingly intense the experience could be. He could only fathom, because she refused to tell him, instead drenching his throbbing cock with her hot mouth. He came instantly, the orgasm clawing through him from his core, tearing an animalistic groan from his ribcage, desperately fighting the urge to pass out, the high splintering through his muscles in igniting sparks.

Maybe embarrassing, but all shame was wiped away at the radiating sensation of her swallowing his thick load. He could feel the volume, feel the way her throat muscles constricted around him, feel the muscles of his crotch strain, and his cock remained hard, aggressively pulsating from their wanton connection.

Her warm, wet tongue hooked around his balls and Jungkook gasped, his hips snapping up violently, back arching, almost screaming as he felt the head of his cock slam into the back of her throat. Her hands gripped his ass, fingernails digging in, lifting him with ease, forcing him to thrust into her mouth in an absurd form of self face-fucking that would not be possible without her strength, which was both extremely arousing and extremely concerning. But horny canceled out fear, so Jungkook soared towards glorious heaven without a care in the world.

His moan swelled throughout the room, saturating it with his lustful vocalization.

A part of him wished he could describe the impending orgasm that was thundering from deep within. It held the same gravity as terror, the same abyssal depth as love, and the undefined quality of time. It ripped through him and put him back together at the same time, leaving him in tears, stronger than before, a step past alive that walked the line of death, and through the haze of oblivion, Jungkook saw her rise with the look of predator to prey, and she sank down on him, his stiff cock still sputtering residual spurts of cum while her hot, slick pussy tightened around him, sending a fresh wave of blinding bliss through him.

He felt her hands clutch his shoulders, the points of pain from her nails bringing him back to reality.

But only just.

She licked her teeth like royalty about to feast on fine dining.

“Mine.”

You dipped your fingers into your mouth and pulled them out, glistening with saliva, and smeared them over Jungkook’s lips. You watched with fervent delight as his instincts took over while you rode him, roughly, brutally, his eyes still conscious, his body bucking into each thrust, his mind on the brink as he tried to grasp onto each sensation. His willpower was breathtaking. No, addictive. You leaned down, hungry to watch his face that was unable to hide wave after wave of ransacking pleasure, his shoulders practically vibrating under your palms.

In the end, you were more animal than human.

You breathed out, your heavy exhale washing over him, and Jungkook writhed, fascinating you with the way his strained muscles rippled, whining, slamming his hips into your crotch with a loud wet smack and cumming again, but you did not relent.

There was such a thing as love among Dires, although you should not partake in such as the Alpha’s sole heir. At least, tradition did not allow you to partake.

Taming you, another story.

You tightened around him, defying tradition, losing yourself to a pleasure that could never be matched.

Like humans, Dire wolves also spoke of the ideal of a perfect mate. Less abstract than the concept of a soul, though. More focused on the concept of matching power levels and building a strong bloodline. There was no room for the weak among the pack.

And yet.

While Jungkook by no means matched you in physical prowess, perhaps that meant that the power of humanity was not measured by pure muscle, but by determination that went past personal safety.

You threw your head back, gritting your teeth, a rising hiss bubbling in your chest, the heels of your palms pressing against his chest. His back hit the floor with a thud, starting a vicious cascade of adrenaline from him to you, and you felt the rising pleasure crash and burst, suspended on the hairline of sanity before the spasms beneath gripped you, ricocheting up your ribcage, seeping juices painted between your connected bodies and you let out a howling moan, your nails digging into his flesh.

Jungkook came, trapped in the jaws of your orgasm, adding a squelch of fluids to the rest buried within you.

You reached between your bodies, opening your mouth, collecting spit onto the tip of your tongue.

It dripped down, down.

His mouth opened mid-moan, his dark eyes unfocused, pupils blown out, and you smeared the mix of his cum and yours onto his tongue along with your saliva, watching his Adam’s apple bob as he drank it, intoxicated, gurgling your name in wet bliss. His bleached-blond hair stuck to his forehead, damp from sweat. Or maybe from your drool from earlier. Ah.

You leaned in and kissed him.

His taste was different.

Like electricity.

You tilted your head, kissing him deeper. Again and again, until he reached the edge of consciousness.

“D-Don’t… stop…”

You kissed him even as he passed out, licking his face, staking your claim, painting him with you.

It might be primitive, but Jungkook loved it, so you did not deny him.

After wiping him down the best you could and tucking him into bed, you cleaned the floor. He slept like the dead, oblivious to your silent movement of mopping his floor. You made sure it was relatively dry before putting everything away, giving his form one last look before gazing out his bedroom window.

The moon blazed above in the pitch-black sky.

The adrenaline still rippled through your blood, but it wasn’t from the sex. You could not see the eyes, but you could feel that the window was being watched. The growl below your collarbones simmered. You felt the shallow presences shrink back a little, sensing your intent to kill on your territory.

They may have disappeared now.

However, you did not relax.

You had hired security detail for Jungkook. Against his will, they lived next door. Kim Taehyung and Park Jimin from RJ's Private Security Services. The only reason you trusted them was because the CEO was well-regarded among your father’s security guard. Your father, the Dire Alpha, had human security detail outside of Dire territory, and wolves for around the castle. Crime was handled by the nation of the perpetrator. Between Dire and humans, the wolf was almost always ruled the perpetrator.

Which did not benefit the humans, since punishment was usually death.

It didn’t benefit wolves either, since punishment was usually the Alpha slaughtering you in front of your family.

Very pleasant traditions, yes.

Hring human bodyguards was important for Jungkook, because wolves were unlikely to attack humans and because humans were slightly less likely to attack their own kind when in groups. Slightly. Although you trusted Taehyung and Jimin, they were only human. They could not sense the world like you could, plus their bodies required ample amounts of sleep to be fully alert. Therefore, you had begun to stalk Jungkook’s apartment – much to his delight – but you did not inform him that it was because of the malicious intent that seemed to scuttle along the pavement like cockroaches. You did not mind satisfying his lust, of course. Other than your saliva giving him an almost hallucinatory high, it made your pheromones radiate off him, essentially telling anyone in the vicinity to back the fuck off or you would give him a very nasty bite.

You left out a wispy, heated breath, fixated on the moon.

You would protect him, no matter what.

On his bedside table was your necklace. A pendant of a jagged diamond with a platinum plum flower pressed in the center on a thick silver chain. On the chain were ten silver rings. Rings of conquest. You would have to go back tomorrow. There were at least two rituals scheduled soon. You were both prime breeding age and the next Alpha. Every male wanted to be the Alpha’s mate with the intent of producing the next royal kin.

You, however, were not interested in any of them.

Jungkook snored very loudly from the bed.

You slunk away from the window and crawled into bed beside him. He was warm. Once he felt your skin brush against his, his body turned, haphazardly flinging his limbs over you.

You smiled.

Pulled the blanket over his arm and listened to the sound of his slumber.

For Dire wolves, courtship was completed through combat. There were those that did participate in the gentler rituals common through humans, but marriage could not be viewed as solidified without combat between mates. If they deemed each other as worthy through battle, both wolves could call a truce, thus having their union recognized among the pack. Common wolves could perform this ritual at their leisure. The ritual for royalty was, of course, different. Although anyone and everyone wished to become the next Alpha’s mate, initiating an official challenge was intimidating to say the least. Not only was each match overseen by the Alpha himself, losing was both shameful and embarrassing. Nearly ostracizing. Still, word was also getting out that you were fucking a human. Unsurprisingly, most Dire were not thrilled at the idea.

And so, you were soon to be called to fulfill your royal duty of kicking lupine ass that had delusions of being your husband because your mate was currently snoring into your fluffy ear.

You would not lose. At this point, you would rather die than select a different mate.

Wolf men were overrated anyway.

The problem was, how were you supposed to have your marriage recognized by your people? It was a future issue that needed a solution, but one step at a time. First, kick the lupine ass of whoever was stalking Jungkook. Then figure out how to get your people – well, actually, your father – to acknowledge your mate.

Sigh.

That was already impossible, as Father would most likely bite Jungkook the second he showed his face.

Even from this distance, you felt the tingle of his disapproval from within the stone walls of the castle.

“Wait are you guys wearing?!”

Kim Taehyung flashed a dazzling boxy smile that further illuminated the flashiness of his pink-and-orange Hawaiian shirt. Maybe that was why he was wearing those ridiculous large sunglasses. “It’s fa-shun. You wouldn’t understand, dear record store employee.”

Jungkook was flabbergasted.

Park Jimin was also sporting a similarly colorful shirt, slate blue chinos, and big sunglasses. Leather loafers, even. He handed Taehyung a tan sports coat that he slipped on, covering his identification badge and harness that held his, er, tranquilizer gun. Jungkook still wasn’t sure what that meant, but the suspicious gun-shaped thing in the holster was bright orange with a blue biohazard sign on the handle. Jimin had one too, although his demeanor was less unhinged. He seemed more trustworthy with it. The shorter man put on a light green shirt jacket over his yellow-orange floral shirt.

Neither of them looked normal.

Despite this, Jungkook had no choice but to endure the stares of everyone as he stood on the train, squeezed between two men chattering over his head. He tried to look nondescript in his large grey bucket hat, dark red long-sleeved henley shirt, baggy black sweatpants, and black sneakers. Tried being the key word, since it was impossible to avoid looking like an emo child chaperoned by two parents perpetually trapped in the seventies.

He would have felt less weird holding the hand of his wolf girlfriend, honestly.

“What’s up, buttercup?”

Jungkook glared at Jimin, who was grinning with his sunglasses ticked down like a sleazy porn star.

“Aw, someone’s cranky,” Taehyung teased, earning him a similar death glare as they walked off the train. “Missing the missus that bad, huh?”

“Please stop talking like that,” Jungkook muttered, slapping down his train card rather harshly. The gate let out a hasty beep and shot open. “I feel like I’m stuck with the two goons of a half-assed gangster movie.”

“Who’s which half of the ass?” Jimin chirped.

Then his supposed bodyguards both shot finger guns at each other and burst into a fit of giggles, which made Jungkook half-consider jumping into an open manhole. On a better day he might have joined in on the fun. However, he was indeed cranky. This morning, she had kissed him goodbye, apologizing for having to cancel their plans and promising to be back in a couple days. He had almost protested, but then he caught her glancing at her hands. All her fingers were laden with heavy silver rings. A snake head with black gems for eyes. The black stone with a bone pressed into it. The wolf with the opal eyes. The ten-pointed star etched into a hammered silver circle. The simple silver band. The large opal gem inlaid in stars. The skull with the snake. The moth with opal gems as wings. The ring scripted with a single word, FEED. A twisted silver band.

“You replace them as you defeat stronger opponents, right?” Jungkook had asked.

She had smiled, pleased that he had remembered. “Yes, that’s correct.”

“Do you think you’ll replace any this time?”

He swore a gold streak flared through her irises but he couldn’t be sure.

“Probably two.”

It mildly pissed off Jungkook that male wolves could just rock up and ask for her hand in marriage, but now that he thought about it again, saying that to the Dire Alpha’s face that you wanted to fuck his daughter sounded shit-inducingly petrifying. Upon further inspection, he didn’t envy them that much. Plus, they all got their butts kicked by his hot wolf girlfriend. The latter might be kinda – ahem, anyway, today was Jungkook’s day off.

He looked both ways before crossing the street, quickly followed by animated Jimin and Taehyung.

He couldn’t help but notice the Dire among the humans as he walked.

They stood out everywhere they went. Pointed ears, some clipped. Bushy tails, some shoved into voluminous skirts and baggy pants to make it less obvious. He used to think the ones that lived among humans were all up to no good. That was the public perspective, after all, similar to humans who were heavily tattooed. Such groups were treated with veiled contempt simply for existing. It made Jungkook feel ashamed for assuming that, especially since he now saw how carefully the Dire approached humans, trying to look as meek and unassuming as possible, moving in and out quickly so as to not disturb the peace. He also noticed how some groups of Dires glared at everyone that passed them, jaded by public perception.

Part of him wondered why they did not live in the wooded area of the main colony. Then another part of him came to realization that he probably didn’t want to know the answer to that. After all, his wolf girlfriend had to leave him to participate in courtship combat rituals, so… yeah.

It was a dog-eat-dog world.

There was a loud clang as the glass door opened and hit a male Dire in the face. Jungkook started. A group of teenage boys snickered and pointed, racing away from the business as the thin Dire in a dirty grey long coat shook his head roughly, looking pissed off but still staring at the ground. Nobody around him said anything. The Dire snorted and turned away from the establishment, empty-handed, quickly shoving his hands in his pockets.

Jungkook opened his mouth to ask if the stranger was okay.

The Dire glared at him, snarling deep in his chest before breaking into an alley.

A deep sense of regret stung within.

“He’ll be fine.” A hand rested on Jungkook’s shoulder. He turned to see Jimin ruefully smiling. “He nicked a wallet from one of the kids.”

Alert perked up his shoulders. “What? Aren’t you guys gonna do something?”

Taehyung appeared beside him with a frown, ushering him along. “For what? Ten thousand won and a drained train card? Besides, our job is to protect you.”

“Don’t you have a sense of justice?” Jungkook hissed under his breath, not liking their lackadaisical attitude.

Even behind the dark glasses, he saw Jimin’s expression deepen. “Justice? Of course.”

“Then–”

“We can’t go around invoking our personal justice on others.” Those plump lips twisted to a morose grimace. “That’s not our job. Our job is to protect you.”

Indignance flared as Jungkook harshly whispered back, “Then why aren’t you taking it seriously–” And he cut himself off as Jimin and Taehyung looked back at him. Faces tense despite their colorful appearances. Once again, he was reminded of how much they stood out.

“People… People are staring at us…”

Taehyung took a step past him, ticking his sunglasses with a sly smirk.

“The more eyes on you, the more witnesses available to testify if we are attacked,” he said under his breath, monotone, with a sweeping laugh to cover up the gravity of his warning. Jungkook half-turned, feeling Jimin’s arm clap over his shoulders, breathless and wide-eyed as Jimin’s pitched laughter rang with Taehyung’s deeper octave. It took a moment for those words to really sink in, but at that point Jimin was dragging him into the department store they had been heading towards all along, and then all of a sudden they became three longtime friends out shopping, noisily discussing the current frivolous fashion trends. Definitely not one dumbass and two dumbass-looking-but-actually-extremely-competent undercover bodyguards.

It wasn’t until Jungkook was shoved into a dressing room with an armful of random dress shirts that he spotted himself in the mirror, his wide eyes trembling with fear.

“I’m in danger,” he mouthed, feeling panic rise to his throat.

His heartbeat raced. He clutched the nice fabrics and shut his eyes, breathing in. Breathing out. No. Don’t cry wolf, idiot, and Jungkook almost laughed at the thought because it was more literal than most would expect. He missed her very much. He knew she could sense him somehow, so he tried to radiate calm, especially when he knew she was busy with her personal preparations. She had hired Jimin and Taehyung for a reason. It just… It hadn’t hit him until now that, yeah, they had been hired to protect-protect him.

Maybe, deep down, Jungkook had wished that it was only silly paranoia.

Then again, before he had security, five Dires had beat the stuffing outta him just because. So, if word was getting out that he was banging the Alpha heir for free…

Oh.

Okay, he was a little scared.

But only a little. He coughed and straightened, dumping the hangers of shirts onto the ottoman in the corner of the dressing room and whipped off his bucket hat, roughly mussing his flat hair. He scowled, hating this feeling of helplessness. Maybe he would hit up the mixed martial arts gym by his house. Increase his workouts to six days a week. He couldn’t be useless forever. At the very least Jungkook wanted to be able to kick human butt.

He yanked his shirt over his head.

“Hey – Whoa! Freaky-deaky!”

Jungkook almost launched himself into the mirror in a mute scream, pressing his long-sleeved shirt into his chest as he spun around to see Taehyung and Jimin cramming themselves into the dressing room, locking the door behind them. He gawked, flapping his jaw like a fish as the shorter male bent towards him, giving him a shifty up-and-down stare as Taehyung tried not to burst into another fit of deep giggles.

“Your back looks like the imprint of a chain-link fence,” the giggly man snickered, tapping his crossed fingers.

Jimin ticked his sunglasses down and wagged his finger.

Jungkook chucked his shirt into Jimin’s face, who promptly slingshot back into the dressing room door in dramatics. Taehyung grabbed his shoulders and gleefully hissed, “Stop, stop, not so loud,” as if this unbelievable ruckus wasn’t suspicious enough.

“Get out,” Jungkook gritted out to the other two. They waved his warning away and began to pick up the dress shirts, hanging them on the bar while very poorly acting as if they couldn’t see the welts and scratches all over him. Waving their hands this way and that, sticking him into a revolving door of various dress shirts while exchanging not-so-subtle looks.

Assholes.

“I can see you.”

His bodyguards-turned-fashion-critics were splitting up the tried-on shirts into two categories. Both tucked their sunglasses into the dip of their collar to begin serious deliberation. Wordlessly shaking their heads at each other. Contorting their faces in various levels of judgement. It was strangely efficient and also weird as fuck.

“Get some slacks. Dark ones, tapered,” Jimin nudged Taehyung, and the taller male was off, sticking his head out of the dressing room in a left-right criminal-level lookout stance before sauntering out.

At this point Jungkook knew it was pointless to protest. A pair of dark brown orbs popped over his shoulder as he unbuttoned the silky black dress shirt with small opalescent polka dots. He noted Jimin had to teeter on tiptoes to harass him properly.

Heh, shorty.

“You got that dawg in you, eh, Kookie?” Jimin wiggled his eyebrows. “Can I call you that?”

“No,” Jungkook muttered sulkily, slipping out of the dress shirt to put on a mid-weight navy one. He felt a little hand slap his arm once he shouldered it on. The upper seams were too short for his broad shoulders. He took it off without even buttoning it, recognizing there was no point in putting on something ill-fitting.

“Ain’t nothin’ to be ashamed about, Kookie,” Jimin barreled on and Jungkook realized now that the shorter male must be from Busan. His intonation and blunt talk reminded him of his hometown. “You and I ain’t so different if we get down to it.”

“Uh huh,” but it was a distracted reply. Taehyung spoke smoothly but there was a rough depth to his elegant, low voice. Daegu? Jungkook wondered how they got here. Money, probably. “Why accept this job?”

“Huh?”

He lifted his head and frowned at Jimin’s peeking eyes over his shoulder through their reflection.

“Why protect me?”

Jimin’s dark brows lowered slightly. Even though half of his face was covered by Jungkook’s shoulder, the crinkled in the corners of his eyes indicated that he was smiling.

“Honestly, I was getting really tired of protecting people who only care about themselves and not the world around them. But I don’t know how to make it better either. So, until then, I’ll have to keep looking for people who have the courage to make our shared world more beautiful.”

Jungkook stared at Jimin through the mirror.

For some reason, he remembered fluffy ears and soft tail curling around him, the smile of a leader-to-be by his side.

He turned, then jerked back.

“You’re too close.”

Jimin wiggled his eyebrows again. Creep. “Hey, no pressure or anything, but does your lady love have some fri–”

Taehyung chose this awkward moment to burst through the dressing room door. He gasped audibly and shut it quickly, waving the pants at Jungkook, “Cover yourself, you animal!” And, because Jimin had whipped his head around, Jungkook could now see down the nape of the shorter man’s neck. He had a series of obvious tattoos that disappeared downward.

The moon phases.

Then it clicked.

Jungkook bopped Jimin on the head.

“Ow!”

“The fuck is that for?” Taehyung scolded, jabbing him in the chest with the hanger of the slacks. “Didn’t your parents teach you that violence is wrong?”

But Jungkook paid him no mind, instead giving Jimin a knowing glare. The shorter man stuck his tongue out with a cheeky smirk before morphing back to a hurt baby chick when Taehyung looked back at him. Asshole.

“Get out before I clobber you both.”

Three really was too many to select one dressy date outfit, but such was Jungkook’s life now.

“Father, do you hate the humans?”

The Alpha could smell him. Despite his daughter’s attempt to shower, coitus between highly compatible mates lingered. Sigh. He knew this day would come, and he had dreaded it. His expectations were sadly met. Sigh. He shut his eyes and breathed in, but not too deeply. The urge to chomp on the human boy became stronger than before. He looked down to his daughter, who was still in her human form, wearing the traditional loose robes of the Dire. Silver, to indicate her royal status. It was coincidence that the color matched her natural fur. She was giving him a curious, searching expression.

His scowl must be showing.

“I don’t hate the humans,” he growled.

She remained unconvinced.

The Alpha let out a huff and looked out to the forest. They were on the rooftop on the stone castle, about to spar. The sun was setting, turning the green leaves a cinder-orange glow.

“Human are selfish, cunning, hateful creatures,” he said to the sea of leaves. “Such is the nature of those who perceive themselves as weak. The mouse lives an honest life, for it does not know of its level in the food chain. But humans do. They are not like you and I. The Dire know themselves to be apex predators, and so we act accordingly. That is, until the integration began, poisoning the Dire with their human fears.”

The moon was slowly peeking out, a flirty little sliver in the sky.

“But humans are not weak.”

The Alpha raised his head to the memory of his lovely silver wolf in the sky. She used to say these words to him, back when he was a haughty, arrogant, uneducated young wolf. She was always the wiser one.

“Their bodies might be weak but, unlike the rest of nature who are simply living in their own isolated bubbles, humanity has the ability to comprehend, empathize, and connect all these isolated bubbles. They are creative, innovative, and imaginative. They are the bigger world that the Dire are only a small part of.”

He looked back to his inquisitive silver pup.

It was partly a lie, as the Alpha did, indeed, hate the humans with a fiery loathing.

He would not, however, actively place his emotions onto his own daughter. If she was to lead after him, it should be with her own beliefs and ideals. He was simply there to guide. He still didn’t think he was doing an exemplary job, but he was only one Dire, after all. Sigh. It wasn’t the first time he wished his wife was still here to scold him to do better.

“Are those Mother’s words?” his clever pup asked.

The corner of his jowls raised. “You always know when she speaks through me, somehow.”

She smiled, playful and roguish, and he saw himself in her. Then a flash of guilt clouded her expression. He saw her pause, unsure. It made him feel like a failure. He was a leader before he was a father, unfortunately. His own daughter hesitated to be open with him.

He gazed back to the turning crimson leaves, not wanting his stare to intimidate.

“I know you have been helping humans on nights of the full moon.”

He felt her withdraw slightly. He frowned. But then she pulled herself up, standing straight beside the Alpha.

There was his defiant child.

“So?”

He tried not to smile. “You challenge our right to the hunt?”

“If our people were better hunters, then my impact would be insignificant.”

He continued to stare at the trees despite the pride swelling in his chest. “You wish to end such massacre.”

To his surprise, his daughter hesitated once more.

“The Dire cannot prevent themselves from becoming our true selves on that night. I will not let us be convinced that the core part of who we are is ugly. I want us to be able to hunt the natural way. However, I cannot deny that the full moon night has created mutual resentment between our species. But, perhaps, there is a way for us to contain our hunt to a different prey.”

“Oh?” The Alpha did his best to not sound impressed.

“Haven’t we become too lazy when it comes to the wildlife, Father?”

She had noticed it too. Raw meat had become too easy to obtain.

“According to the humans, the deer have become an invasive species.”

“Is that so?” He already knew. Calling out his own people as idle dogs did not exactly earn respect, although he was getting closer to doing so out of personal frustration.

“Yet I don’t think I can suggest such things until we better improve the bond between us.”

They stood in silence, father and daughter.

“I’m ready to kick your ass now.”

“I doubt you’ll be able to do so, Daughter,” the Alpha barked, his laughter cracking through the twilight. Something only she heard nowadays. “You’ve become soft hanging out with those humans.”

She proved him wrong.

He was drooling.

It was a little unsettling. It shouldn’t be, but it was for some reason. Maybe because he was human.

“Jungkook, uh…?”

He started and made a hasty slurping sound. Lovely. You turned a little, swishing your tail back and forth to get a feel for mobility. Checked yourself in the mirror again, satisfied with the tailor’s adjustments to the cobalt blue velvet dress. There was an additional zipper by the hole at the lower back of the dress that allowed your tail to poke through. The dress was a stark difference from the usual baggy clothes you wore. Although the fabric was stretchy, it hugged close in your body with a soft cowl neck and gathered side seams. The wolf in you disliked this encasement, but there were slits along the sides that helped, as well as your mate’s hungry expression. It was quite amusing.

And flattering.

“Wow, you look so… so fucking hot.”

“The open back is making me feel rather cool, actually,” you remarked. The thin straps crossed in the back to hold the front against your chest. Some of your scars and half-healed gashes were visible. You didn’t mind though. Jungkook seemed to like it, creeping closer and closer to you with every second. You pretended not to notice. “I brought some silver shoes to wear with it. Do you think this will be acceptable for the establishment you selected?”

He was not listening. Jungkook was now almost breathing down your back, and then you felt his fingertips trace your recent wounds with gentleness and concern. And a hint of desperation.

No, a lot of desperate horniness.

You stared at him blankly through his own full-length mirror in his bedroom.

“Does it hurt?”

His big eyes lifted to pout at your reflection.

“It does not.”

You had two new rings now. The FEED ring had been replaced with one that held a black onyx heart-shaped gem held down with locked chains. The snake head ring was also gone, swapped for a silver band composed of fused triangles. He was peeking down at them.

“The more intricate ones are from newer families,” you explained. “The older families have simpler designs, as that was the norm at the time.”

“Families?”

“Just as you humans have a coat of arms for your families, we have ring styles. There is a special Dire family of silversmiths that create them. The royal family has a pendant.” You laid your fingertips over the pendant hanging from your neck, a jagged diamond shaped like the full moon with a platinum plum flower pressed into it. “Unlike the families, who are able to swap rings and be indited to new families, the royal family are locked to their fate.”

His brows knitted together. “Sounds complicated…”

You smiled, patting his cheek. “Let me handle such things. You can stand there and be pretty.”

But a shadow crossed over his features. You paused, not expecting that. Jungkook shifted to hold your elbows, pulling you towards him with a rueful expression. He shook his head.

“I want to do it.”

You blinked in confusion. “Are you using euphemisms for sex now?”

He looked annoyed. “The ritual.”

Huh?

Wait.

He was crazy.

“The courtship combat?”

His nodded, making his blond ponytail bounce.

You almost laughed. Almost, stopping as soon as you saw the serious look on his face. “Ah… That’s not possible, my sun.”

Pink dusted his cheeks. “S… Sun?”

You reached up and twirled his bleached bangs. “Mhm. As I rule the moon, you are the sun that allows me to shine.”

He was two seconds away from becoming a blubbering mess. You laughed again as he hugged you fiercely, then received whiplash from him jerking back, gripping your shoulders tightly. His big brown orbs with glistening with brightness. “I want to do the ritual. It is a tradition of your people. I want to respect it. I want to win you.”

You raised your eyebrows.

“Oh… well, not win you, but… you know…?”

Still, you considered it for a moment. You could tell him that he had already won, but you also knew that wasn’t what he meant. “The ritual reflects the savagery of the Dire. It is not for the weak.” You raised your head. Jungkook straightened, determinedly setting his jaw. He was far from the frightened young human shivering in the alley back then. The corner of your lips upturned. “You want to fight me that bad, huh?”

He waved his hands, dark eyebrows falling in worry. “No, no, not like that. I just think… I mean, your dad might – uh…” He rubbed his chest nervously.

Oh.

You looked out the window, to the growing moon. “Hm, I suppose there is some way to arrange a degree of fairness. But you will need to become stronger. There’s no way you can win now.” Father will be pleased, perhaps. It was hard to tell with that wolf.

“R-Really?” Then the latter half of your words sank in. “Hey…”

You turned to face him with a wolfish grin.

“Would you like me to prove it to you now?”

Well, Jungkook didn’t win the tussle, but he could confidently say he had won at life.

He had one hand pinned behind his back and the other on the floor above his head, her weight on top his thighs, and her tongue sliding down the nape of his neck. His boner was getting violently uncomfortable against the hardwood. He was too absorbed in pheromone heaven to care. The more competitive side of him argued that this was cheating and the horny side of him told the former to shut the fuck up and enjoy the saliva dripping down his shoulders, his skin burning with heightened sensation.

She had the foresight to remove her dress before pinning him down.

Jungkook could never compete with such wisdom, but he was fine with that.

She let go of his hands. He could do nothing. She gripped his lower ribs and hoisted his torso off the ground, too easily, and ran her tongue down his spine, removing her knees from the backs of his thighs as well. His hot skin prickled at the sensation of her teeth nicking him. Somehow he was now on his knees. Her arm snaked around his front and gripped his inner thigh, sharp fingernails digging into delicate flesh. His entire body shuddered, lungs included, her spit in rivers across his shaking backside.

Her tail flicked against his calf, soft fur rubbing against him.

“O-Oh, fuck…!”

Pre-cum was already leaking down his shaft. Hypnotized. His own palm pressed against the swollen, slick head of his cock. Like a spark to a flame, his nerves blazed with delight, prompting him to wrap his hand around the shaft. Her other hand clawed up his chest. And then he felt her teeth sink into his side. Jungkook looked down, vision unfocused.

Gasped.

Eyes streaked with gold gleamed and she bit down, into him, not hard enough to break skin but definitely hard enough to drive him insane.

His head snapped back, vicious lust tearing through his throat in a strangled moan, jacking himself off hard, fast, punishing, driven by the scratches down his chest and inside his inner right thigh, by the teeth locked into his left side, and then pain blossomed into unyielding waves of torrential pleasure. Coiling into his blood. Seizing his heart. So intense he was on the edge of alive and dead. A moan ripped at his throat, nearly a howl, and Jungkook could smell blood, nearly sending himself into a frenzy.

His orgasm shot all over the floor.

His lower muscles clenched and he thrust into his hand, burning all over, sensitivity exploding through his frame, and now he saw it, streaks of milky white splattered onto the hardwood, oh, shit, right before his eyes rolled back into his head to flashing blackness, feeling hot tongue washing over the bruise throbbing at his side.

“Ah, I’m sorry…”

“I d-don’t care,” he immediately choked out, swaying, his head lolling back into place, infernal ecstasy threatening to swallow him whole. His eyes could barely register that he was bleeding from the small pinpricks of her teeth marks. He felt unnaturally good, truthfully. Maybe because her saliva lingered on the wound. A fresh surge of arousal rippled down to his groin.

Her name slipped from his gasping lips.

A low, animalistic huff.

For a moment, Jungkook could not quite understand the image in front of him. One second, he was sinking on his knees, panting, staring at the cum-drenched floor of his bedroom. The next second, the powerful, lithe, crouching form of his wolf girlfriend was before him, on hands and knees. Her bushy silver tail swishing back and forth, her head low to the ground, ears standing straight up, and her tongue flat against the hardwood.

She was licking his cum!

Her tail was wagging!

“O-Ooooh…”

Those gold-flecked eyes fixated on him, watching him with a low, throaty snarl.

“Get behind me.”

Jungkook didn’t need to be told twice.

His body knew what to do, springing into action, probably ungracefully, but he didn’t care, launching off his knees, positioning behind her round, raised ass. His hands gripped the soft curves, the pads of his thumbs slippery against her heated opening, and her snarl morphed into a blissful hiss, the tendons on the back of her hands visible, and he sank in, instantly drowning into suffocating, insatiable fervor.

Violent, loud, wet smacks of hips to hips.

She licked his taste off the floor. Her tail thumped against his thundering heart. His body snapped forward with unrelenting force, breathless, alive, intense, illuminated by the moon, his throbbing cock swelling against her pulsing muscle, snaking shivers seizing his insides.

Synchronized, laborious exhales.

Her head tipping back, the tip of her tail curling around his neck, her ass pushing back against his crotch.

“Ah, Jungkook, yes…”

Then he felt it.

A sublime pull coaxing him from within, otherworldly, not just fitting together on the physical but in a divine perfection, and his grip tightened, trying to hold on, thrusting deeper, harder, there.

He orgasmed in this carnal, dream-like state, moaning to the ceiling.

He wanted to ask what that was, if she had felt it, but his hips continued despite the heightened sensitivity, and he couldn’t stop, kept going, his lungs burning, leaning forward, oh, fuck, this angle was even better, her orgasm spasming around him, his eyelids fluttering from the racing bursts of pleasure, still so hard that it was almost painful, cumming again, the saturated scent of their sex overpowering, slickness dripping down their tense thighs, once again building to another wet, tight, soaring climax.

Jungkook continued until his legs literally gave out.

He slid to the floor, gasping, marveling at the way her pussy glistened, the quivering lips puffy and engorged dark pink, leaking heated slickness.

He inhaled.

Ducked forward.

Pressed his tongue into her and groaned, massaging his sore cock as he ate her out, tasting himself, tasting her, tasting them. Intoxicating, sweet, slipping into wet velvet, drunk on their union.

“What… W-What was that…?”

You listened to him describe it to you. And nodded.

“I see.”

“What?”

You rubbed your chin and asked him a question. “Do you ever wonder why the humans that become Dire sex slaves rarely stop such relations?”

His face contorted into embarrassment and confusion. “U-Uh, well, n-no, I’m not–”

“I’m kidding. That has nothing to do with anything,” you hummed, patting his chest with adoration. The look on his face though. “Humans have the concept of soulmates, don’t they?”

His pout turned into wide-eyed interest. “Uh, yeah…”

“Well, that doesn’t happen the nature.”

Jungkook glared at you.

You grinned. And then sighed, resting your chin on his pecs. “Do you wonder why the Alpha bloodline is so coveted?”

“Because you’re in charge?”

You hummed, your tail creating the tent with his blankets. “Well, of course. But we are not simply in charge by blood alone.” You placed your hands on his chest. Your rings and necklace were on his nightstand. “The Alpha position can be challenged by any wolf in the pack. However, we are difficult to defeat due to our blessing from the moon. This includes our amplified strength, heightened senses, increased rate of regeneration and healing… and the nature of our copulation.”

Those big eyes were blinking bewilderedly at you, not yet understanding.

A slow smirk touched your lips.

“The more you have sex with me, the stronger our connection becomes. You will feel the traces of divinity stirring within you to draw you towards orgasm.”

He sprang upward, startled.

“You mean it can feel even better?”

You laughed, sitting with your hands between your legs. “Yes, the sex will feel better and better as time goes on. The Alpha needs to bear children after all. So, to ensure this despite our low ovulation rate of twice a year, the moon encourages us to enjoy the mating process. Alphas in heat are extremely overbearing.”

Jungkook looked traumatized. “Y… You…?”

You licked your teeth in ravenous delight.

“I’m gonna die,” he declared, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

“I thought you would be happy to know that.”

He looked more stricken than pleased. “H-How can I keep up?! I’ve barely started not going full crazy every time you spit on me!”

You wiggled your tongue at him.

“S-Stop!”

His body involuntarily flinched at the sight of your tongue. You stayed between his open legs.

“I wouldn’t worry. I’m not sure about the specifics with humans, but I do know our marriage will mean that you too will receive the full blessing of the moon. Until then, the compulsion will strengthen you to your full potential each time we fuck. The moon wouldn’t want you to give up midway, you know.”

“H… How do you know that?”

You frowned. “Hm. I don’t.”

Jungkook almost fell off the bed.

“But I do know that is what my father told me. Alphas used to have a lot of children outside of their marriage, because the sex is quite literally addicting. It is similar to partaking hard drugs. Alphas only marry once, to the suitor most powerful that makes them yield, thus establishing their offspring as the true heirs blessed by the moon. The moon’s blessing ensures fertility between that connection. It does not, however, stop the Alpha from getting around.”

He hesitated and then blurted, “Your dad gets around?!”

You froze.

Then your ears lowered.

“No. I have never smelled another scent mingling with my father’s other than my mother,” you sighed sadly.

He could tell he struck a forbidden chord.

“I’m sorry.”

She smiled. Weakly. Then shook her head. “No. Don’t be.” She lifted her head, facing out the window. No. To the moon hanging above them, softly illuminating the world below. Her hand raised.

She tapped above her heart, twice, with her fingernail.

Turned to him. They shared silent expression of understanding. She took his right hand, and directed it to his heart. Nodded when he held his index finger out.

“Tap your heart twice and look to the moon,” she instructed softly.

He did so, feeling a faint, strained pull from within.

“What does it mean?”

She smiled again, and Jungkook could see the sadness. The yearning. A dream broken, a memory never forgotten, a love indescribable that transcended time and space and worlds.

“It is a Dire practice. How we to pay respects to the dead.” Her eyes shone. “She would have loved to meet you, my sun.”

She fell into his arms and he caught her, holding her for a long, long time.

You had never been in such a place before.

“Reservation for two? Right this way.”

It was a grand place. Different from the castle. A restaurant. The chandeliers above were massive, but each held small, dimly lit bulbs that resembled stars in a dark ceiling. Tables with starched white clothes and high-backed chairs. The clientele was dressed like you and Jungkook, in elegant dresses and pressed slacks paired with button down shirts. They stared at you and him above their wineglasses, trying and failing to be subtle. You held your head high, one of your hands on his elbow, sweeping past them in cobalt velvet and silver heels, your tail brushed out behind you, silken ears raised on alert.

You noticed the table beside yours had two sharply dressed men. The taller man wore a dark green suit, and the other in a navy suit. They sat across from each other, but both turned to glance at towards you as you approached.

You almost smiled, but tried your very best not to.

Park Jimin winked. You felt Jungkook stiffen next to you as Kim Taehyung raised his wine glass to you.

“Those punks…”

Still, he looked nervous in his silk black dress shirt. He hadn’t buttoned it all the way. The peek of his collarbones added a tasteful touch. His dark slacks were well-tailored, perfectly laying over the leather of his black dress shoes. Even the gold buckle of his belt matched the thin gold chain around his neck. As he pulled out your chair, you noticed his cuff links glimmer blue.

Sapphires to match your dress.

You swept your skirt by your thighs and sat down carefully, your tail brushing by his hand.

Smiled as you heard him suppress a squeak.

He sat down quickly as the waiter patiently introduced himself and set down the menus, bowing low in exit.

You curiously glanced about, noticing a few well-dressed Dire among the tables. In fact, you recognized some of them. High-ranking officials that worked in the human government. Your father had appointed them. They all had their full pointed ears, their soft tails groomed, and a couple had precious metal chains and dangling gems woven into their fur.

“I’ve never been somewhere like this.”

“Really?” Jungkook was gawking at his menu as if he had never seen paper before.

“This is my first time. I’m glad it is with you.”

It turned out the menu had an entire section dedicated to cuts of raw meat. There were no prices on the menu. Frightening.

“Do you want me to pay?” you asked, tilting your head.

Your mate seemed on the verge of passing out. “Ah… Actually, when I reserved a table, they asked for my credit card. So they can charge it when we leave, I guess…” Jungkook frowned slightly, his ears turning red as he glared at you. “I’m treating you. Although,” he muttered under his breath, I can’t do this all the time, clutching his menu so tightly his knuckles were white.

You assured him. “I’m really looking forward to it. You look very handsome, by the way.”

His face brightened. He straightened up, tucking a few strands of his blond bangs behind his ear. Half of it was tied back, leaving the shorter layers to soften his features. His shoulders relaxed a bit.

“I thought you went to these kinds of places all the time.”

You shook your head. “No. Father hates these sorts of places. Excessive pomp and circumstance.” You imitated his deep, gruff voice with a laugh. “We have a personal butcher bring cuts of meat about half the time. The other half, we hunt.”

The Alpha sneezed.

It was a loud, hostile sound that echoed throughout the stone castle.

He rubbed the end of his snout with the pad of his paw. Hmph. Someone must have been mocking him.

He growled and continued down the stairs, heading to the dining room for peaceful dinner.

“H-Hunt?”

“Ah… Wildlife.”

Before either of them could continue the conversation, the waiter was back. He asked if they were ready to order. Instead of looking towards him, the waiter poised towards his girlfriend first. Jungkook was a little surprised at how the waiter seemed to not react to the silvery black-tipped fur. Maybe he shouldn’t though. He had chosen this restaurant because it had a raw meat menu, after all.

She made eye contact, and Jungkook smiled, gesturing her to go first.

Their waiter was a gentle-looking man with salt-and-pepper hair, sparkling dark eyes, and slightly rounded cheeks. He listened carefully to her order with his hands tucked into one another, a napkin draped over his forearm.

“Excellent selection,” he praised, separating his hands. “I would like to invite you to try our house red wine, specialty crafted and bottled specifically for our dear customers to prefer the raw selection. Its deep, rich, fruity flavor will match perfectly.”

He nudged her foot under the table, trying to convince her to ball out. She did not look at him but tapped the tip of her high heel against the side of his shoe.

“That sounds lovely.”

“Wonderful.” The waiter bowed and faced him. “And what would you like this fine evening?”

“Ah, well…”

He somehow managed to mumble his way through the peppered wagyu beef option. Medium rare. The waiter was unperturbed by his obvious anxiousness. He asked if them both if they would like to share the bottle of wine, then, since the pairing would be excellent with both their choices.

“Oh, we can do that?”

For his part, the waiter did not react to Jungkook’s sputter.

His wolf girlfriend shot him an alarmed look before quickly composing herself and saying, “We would love to.”

The waiter bowed again, and repeated their orders to confirm. He took their menus and bowed out, swiftly disappearing to the bustle of the kitchen.

“He was very professional.”

“I… I made a fool of myself,” he groaned, wanting to hide under his hands. Instead, he clasped his cloth napkin for life support. “It’s so obvious I’m low class. I’m sorry.”

Her chuckle was warm. “Don’t apologize. You weren’t rude.” She reached over and pet his knuckles with her fingertips, her ears perked. “Remember, this is my first experience too.”

He could feel eyes on them. “Do you think… anybody here recognizes you?”

Without breaking eye contact, she said, “I think I’ve been identified, yes.” There was no warning in her voice. “But Taehyung and Jimin are here. And I am not embarrassed to be seen with you. They will need to get used to it.”

Jungkook couldn’t help but peek at their surroundings. “Would you call this a soft launch?”

Confusion brushed over her features. “Launch of what?”

He grinned. “Don’t worry about it.”

She scowled cutely. “No, tell me. Explain this terminology to me.”

He sometimes forgot she didn’t know these things. He explained, and the topics moved on to other phrases and sayings she had questions on. He remembered once again that she didn’t own a phone; it was hard to recall because she knew so much information about music, science, and even philosophy. She explained how she received the schooling that all Dires did, but also had additional classes with various occupations such as silversmithing, tailoring, butchering, and shadowing the Alpha when he interacted with the human government.

“How does it work? Are you supposed to step into the role as soon as possible?”

She shook her head. “No. When my father chooses to retire, I will defeat him in combat to assume the title of Alpha. I could challenge him before that, but,” she mused, smiling. “Over his dead body, as he would say.”

“Does everything end in fighting?”

“A lot of things do.” She caught his troubled expression. “I think you are mistaken by the nature of combat. For humans, fighting is generally negative, as it often devolves from conflict and hurt. But, for the Dire, combat is essential to life. How we defend our ideals, how we connect with our souls, how we become one with the earth and each other.” The waiter came by with two polished wine glasses, soon followed by a bucket of ice that sat on the edge of the table. “We do not fight to cause pain. Of course, we bruise. We bleed. Bones break occasionally, but not often. With each strike, we communicate. We understand. We bond.”

Their plates of food followed. His steak and roasted vegetables, plated with a crisscross pattern of delicate, buttery sauce, and her select raw meat sliced to thinly marbled red perfection. With a careful tilt of the wine bottle, the waiter filled her glass first, wiping the edge of the opening with his folded cloth napkin in one smooth motion. Jungkook noticed the label of the bottle was a wax seal of a family crest with a handwritten brush script in looping characters. He could barely read what it said, but it was clearly very expensive dark red wine.

His mate raised her head to thank the waiter as Jungkook prayed for his bank account not to end in the negatives after tonight. But, really, did it matter? He was surprised to realize that he didn’t mind too much, especially after seeing the sparkling expression in those gold-flecked eyes as she curiously viewed her plate. The waiter poured him a glass too before placing the bottle on ice, bowing as he implored them to enjoy their meal.

That was the best steak that he had ever consumed to date.

Jungkook did not know, at the time, that it would leave a bitter taste in his mouth.

He did not know, at the time, that he would never, ever visit this establishment again. In fact, both of them would come to unconsciously avoid this type of place, at least for a long time. Yet, in the moment, he felt a rising, pure joy in seeing her spear her meat and dine with him so freely. So lovely. So normal, just like any other couple on a fancy date enjoying each other’s company. He asked if she was enjoying her meal. She nodded, and took a sip of her wine before licking her lips, her brows knitting together before relaxing.

“I think you’re supposed to swirl it a little and sniff it,” Jungkook whispered, holding his own glass as if it was a bomb. “To let out the aromatics or something.” He did not know if he was right or not.

“I can smell it very clearly,” she whispered back, but rocked her wrist regardless. Even she seemed unsure. “Dires do drink alcohol, but I’m told it has a stronger effect on humans than us. Our muscle density and blood chemistry are different.”

“Oh.” He called the Dires slamming shot after shot in the bars of Hongdae. “That’s why they drink so much…” He took a sip and tired not to grimace. It was smooth but quite intense. Then again, it was made to pair with raw meat, so it must be crafted to suit the Dire tastebuds.

“It’s mild. I like it.”

“Y… Yeah…”

She saw right through him. “You don’t like it?”

He rubbed the back of his head. “I don’t think I expected the flavor to be so concentrated.” He took another, smaller sip this time.

“Are you pleased with your selections?”

Both of them started and tried their best not to look as startled as their initial reaction. Their waiter had mysteriously appeared right next to their table, smiling, a little mischievously perhaps. His salt-and-pepper hair gleamed under the starry chandeliers above.

“U-Uh, yeah. Yes.” Jungkook cleared his throat. “It’s delicious.”

“Agreed.” She tipped the wine glass towards the waiter. “The red is wonderful. Thank you for suggesting it.”

“My pleasure.”

The waiter bowed deeply, forearm over his vest to smooth it over his apron as he stood up.

“Please, savor your time with us.”

It was not until later that Jungkook pondered on the phrasing of those parting words.

They ate. They drank. They fell deeper and deeper in love, staring into each other’s eyes.

She still had a few slices of meat left on her plate when he began to notice the gold streaks bleeding into her irises.

You were so absorbed in your conversation with Jungkook that you failed to notice the distant, unfamiliar sensation piercing your heart until it suddenly became white-hot pain.

Your palm hit the table with a resounding blow.

"Jungkook."

His name shot out of your mouth like a bullet. The pain intensified, forcing you to double over. His eyes went wide at your terrified whisper. Your other hand covered one of your eyes as the stabbing agony scalded through your veins at warp speed. Fuck, it hurt. And… power. You gasped, knocking over your glass, the white tablecloth hemorrhaging red, and suddenly you knew what it was – every single fiber of your being seized against your will, overtaken by devastating, inhuman, feral rage.

Your visible eye shot to the waiter.

The wine.

He smiled.

It was vindicative and cold.

You poisoned me!

The wolf inside you tore at your insides, ravaged by wrath, breaking every shackle of internal control with alarming ease. You had never felt broken from your inner soul before, but it was happening, it was happening right now, and you cried out. Helpless. The sound of grinding bone. Fur already shooting through your fingers. Jimin and Taehyung at the other table springing to their feet. The growl in your throat unmistakable now and the other patrons gasped in terror. But not Jungkook.

Your sun looked scared for you.

Unlike him, you were dreadfully, horribly afraid.

"Jungkook... don't look for me," you pleaded.

You threw yourself out of your seat as silver black-tipped fur bristled all up your arms. Your back. Your legs. The sound of velvet tearing. The despairing feeling of losing your mind to an unstoppable force. Snapping your teeth, half-wolf, half-woman, blinding pain shooting throughout your body at the forced transformation and you tried to fight it. Tried so hard that you tasted blood as a disconcerting screech was ripped from your lungs. Bones cracking. Startling everyone around you as you crawled on all fours, hearing Jungkook calling after you, almost muffled due to your ears flattening against your head, your lips peeling back, sharpened teeth bared. Your shoulder blades grinded against each other, too big for your human form. Wicked black claws slashed the carpet, creating large gashes and deep channels into the wood underneath.

You let out a bloodcurdling howl of pain.

The restaurant erupted into screams.

Jungkook shouting your name.

You bellowed at the top of your lungs.

"DO NOT FOLLOW!"

You must run.

You ran.

"Always an animal."

Jungkook spun around and punched the waiter in the face, right before Jimin and Taehyung tackled him to the ground.

"Catch the bottle!" Jimin yelled as the man tried to swing an arm at the ice bucket.

He caught it mid-air, not knowing where to look, after you or at this sicko with a black eye who definitely did something to you. There was still some wine in there. Taehyung was on his phone, speaking rapidly, and Jimin unforgivingly slammed his knee into the lower back of the waiter, silencing his horrible laughter. The restaurant was an uncontrolled chaos of wailing patrons.

Another violent, heinous howl silenced them all.

You.

Jungkook could recognize your broken voice fading into the distance.

Do not follow.

"Do not follow," Jimin wheezed. "Please, Jungkook, I know you want to, but do not follow."

He set his jaw and fell to one knee, landing right on the waiter's writhing hand. The man squealed in pain as the sirens sounded outside.

"Only humans use underhanded tactics," he spat, his voice so low that it seemed to have a cutting edge. The man in Jimin's grip froze, his eyes wide, finally realizing he had pissed off the wrong person.

Jungkook snapped his teeth.

"Animals fight head on."

The Alpha could smell it.

Rage.

Fear.

His daughter.

He bolted from his seat, forgetting his dinner. The servants started, but he could smell it, it, the horrible scent from memory. It was coming. Coming right for him.

He howled.

Loud, resolute, commanding. The servants immediately ran, dashing away, howling with him. The growing sound carried from the echoing stone castle to the homes into the woods, penetrating into the darkness, rising to the sky. The message was loud and clear. Run. Lock the doors. Barricade them. Stay inside. You will die.

The Berserker approaches.

There was the sound of splintering wood and a heavy thud. On all fours, the Alpha shot through the halls, his silver robes tearing apart as he ran. In his lifetime, this had happened only once before. Only once. The heavy pendants of his chain necklace slammed against his broad chest. The large black wolf bounded into the throne room, snarling, seeing his eyes burning gold in the glass of the window.

A silver blur crashed through the glass.

Teeth, claws, blood, launching right at him. His beautiful daughter nearly the same size as him, a silver wolf with black-tipped fur, but she was there no more. Even the pupils of her eyes had been swallowed by gold fury. Full beast, no human to control the reigns, breaking his heart.

She looked exactly like her mother on her final day.

He did not hesitate, throwing himself to the side so she missed. She caught herself on all fours, jaws snapping, viciously growling with black lips peeled back. No remorse. Only attack. She flung again and he twisted, but she was faster, slashing through his fur and drawing blood, cutting almost to the bone.

The Alpha screamed, but not in physical pain.

She wretched her claws out, swiping at him.

No.

Not his daughter too.

He dodged, throwing a chair into her path. She smashed it into splinters, roaring, all her fur bristling, awful flat glowing gold coins for eyes.

Then for a split second.

The Alpha had excellent eyesight. He swore he saw the slightest sliver of pleading. He narrowed his gaze, baring his teeth too as she began to stalk around him, her tail straight up, her pointed ears rigid. Pure aggression once more. The two gigantic wolves circled each other, their claws clicking against stone.

"I swear on my life I will save you, my daughter," the Alpha declared. "You must fight it."

She growled and slammed into him.

part v

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #bts smut #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #jungkook smut

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angie-likes-to-art · 5 months

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Fic Recs (Stranger Things Edition IV)

My semester is over and I can finally read fanfics again!! and maybe write??? All fics are fem!reader

Marvel One Two Three Harry Potter One Two Three Stranger Things One Two Three Specific Characters Tangerine Masterlist

Like a Random Tuesday in December by @bimrwolf (18+ Only)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader Summary: “Reader had always had a crush on Steve, but he is not interested. Yet, when he starts to get closer to her, he realizes he made a mistake because it might be too late.”

Whip it! by @schoopsahoy

Pairing: Steve Harrington x roller-rink!Reader Summary: “steve gets forced into taking the kids to the new roller rink, but he doesn’t mind so much once he meets you. basically just steve being a massive simp for reader.”

Dazed and Confused by @caxde

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader Summary: “you work on Hawkin's music shop, and Eddie is a regular costumer. Your friends (Steve and Robin mostly) help you to gain confidence and flirt with him.”

Start Me Up by @jobean12-blog (18+ Only)

Pairing: Mechanic!Eddie Munson x Reader Summary: “Your car needs a major tune up but when you meet your mechanic, all you want is for him to tune you up.”

Dreaming of You by @boomhauer (18+ Only)

Pairing: Virgin!Eddie Munson x Reader Summary: “Plagued by graphic dreams about the Munson boy, you decided to see if he can make them come true.”

Sketchbook by @galaxy-siren

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Artist!Reader Request: Could I please request an Eddie x artist!reader story. Maybe he sits next to her in a couple of classes and he sees her drawing in her sketchbook and he’s just like “holy shit that really good” and he asks if he can look at some of her other drawings. She lets him forgetting that she has a couple of sketches of him.

Second Chance by @astermath

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader Summary: “steve decides to ask out the girl who he keeps seeing around hawkins with her nose in a book. he’s a little surprised when he gets brutally rejected, only to find out his “king steve” era is haunting him more than he expected. he attempts to make it up to you and show you he’s changed, even if it takes him a couple of tries.”

Private Viewing by @lokis-army-77 (18+ Only)

Pairing: Camboy!Eddie Munson x Reader Summary: “What happens when your favorite camboy is in your class? You should stop watching his content... or should you? What happens when you are eventually paired together for a project? Everything will be just fine, won't it?”

Next Caller by @eddiemunsons-missingnipple (18+ Only)

Pairing: College!Eddie Munson x Shy!Reader Summary: “Eddie hosts a late night radio show for his college campus, where he discusses various different topics. He's mostly known for his DnD and sex talk segments. You've been a long-time listener who works up the courage to finally call in for some help.”

Deal with the Devil (Series, Ongoing) by @hard-candy-writing (18+ Only)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Cheerleader!Reader Summary: “you want to piss off your parents. eddie wants to pass his classes. so you make a deal with each other: he'll date you, you'll tutor him, and you'll both end the year happy. the catch? no falling in love. slow burn romance, enemies to friends to lovers, fake dating, don't fall in love. fic takes place in 1984-85.”

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whump-imagines · 5 months

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Lightning and Panic

I swear I will write for other characters too... I'm just currently deep in Buck and Eddie brain rot.

Buddie x reader

Wc: 1300 ish

You pinched your arm, flinching at the sensation. There was no way this was real. This was your worst nightmare. You just needed to try harder and you were sure you would wake up.

Pinching the same spot once more, you realized that you were likely going to have a bruise soon.

Yet again, you were sitting in this awful waiting room. It felt like you had just been here waiting for news was after Eddie was shot.

Now, it was Buck.

It had been two days of waiting. Two days of worrying. Two days of desperately trying to convince yourself that he was going to be okay.

You knew they had a dangerous job. You thought you'd been prepared for that. You expected burns or maybe smoke inhalation. Not a sniper and a freak lightning strike.

Truthfully, you'd only prepared for minor injuries. Not near death experiences.

Suddenly, Eddie was kneeling in front of you. Why did he look so concerned? Something went wrong. Buck was gone.

He was talking. Why couldn't you hear him? Why are your ears ringing?

Eddie squeezed your hands almost too tight. He was trying to ground you. He took a slow exaggerated deep breath then finally, his words broke through your haze. “Breathe.”

It was then you finally realized you were barely wheezing air in and out and much too quickly. Your heart was racing. You gasped. “I-I–” more gasping. “C-c-can’t.”

Eddie moved your hands to his chest. “Yes, you can. Just follow me.” His fingers dug into the pulse point at your wrist as he took another slow beep breath and counted the pattern for you.

Tears rolled down your face as you desperately tried to calm down. You yanked your hands away from Eddie to pull at the collar of your shirt. It suddenly felt like it was strangling you.

Eddie turned toward Bobby and said something to him about a doctor. Had he whispered? Maybe. Your ears were also ringing more intensely again.

Now, you were grabbing at your chest. “H–hurts,” you panted out the word.

“I know, sweetheart,” Eddie soothed. “Just try to breathe.” He pulled your hands back down to your lap and once again pressed his fingers into your pulse point. You could see the worry in his eyes despite trying to stay calm for you.

You desperately tried to draw in more air but failed. Before long, black spots started to appear in front of your eyes. Then there was a doctor. He had to be there about Buck. You tried to back away, you couldn't handle any more bad news. “No.”

Eddie moved to the chair beside you and pulled you against his side. “It's okay, sweetheart. He's here to help you.” He pulled up your sleeve then nodded to the doctor.

There was something cold on your shoulder then a pinch and a burning sensation. You couldn't move away from it as Eddie had you held firmly in place.

Almost immediately, you felt calmer. You relaxed fully into Eddie and finally drew in a deep breath. A nurse you hadn't noticed placed an oxygen mask over your face.

You felt Eddie’s sigh of relief. “You're okay.” You weren't sure if he was talking to you or himself. “The doctor is going to run a few tests just to make sure that was a panic attack and nothing else, okay?”

You tried to snuggle further into him not wanting to leave his side. “‘m tired.”

“I know. Just relax. It's okay if you fall asleep,” Eddie soothed. He stood and lifted you into his arms bridal style. You dozed off with your head against his shoulder before he made it to the exam room.

When you opened your eyes, you were alone in a hospital room. As the grogginess started to lift, confusion set in. Why were you here? Why were you alone? There were no monitors or IV lines and aside for being tired, you felt okay.

Then the memory hit. Buck. You jerked upright. “Oh, no.” You would have stood to go find out how he was but you were suddenly dizzy. So instead, you pressed the nurse call button on the bed rail.

The dizziness mostly cleared and you were considering going to look for Eddie and check on Buck when the door swung open and a doctor entered. You vaguely remembered him from the waiting room earlier. “How’re you feeling?” he asked.

“How is Buck?” you asked, ignoring his question.

Before he could answer, Eddie came in and was by your side a moment later. “How are you?”

You huffed. “How’s Buck?”

Eddie smiled. “He's breathing on his own. He's getting better.”

Tears slid down your face as the relief washed over you. You finally felt like you could breathe again.

“Now, back to you,” Eddie redirected. “Are you feeling better?”

Shrugging one shoulder, you thought about it. “Honestly, I'm still tired. I was dizzy but that's passed. How long was I out?”

“Almost five hours,” said Eddie.

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Holy crap. Wait, I thought I heard something about tests.”

“You did.” Eddie looked to the doctor to let him explain.

“We ran an EKG and blood tests because you were having some chest pain during your anxiety attack,” he explained. “Everything came back normal.”

“So then am I captive here or can I go see Buck?” you asked.

“You're free to leave,” the doctor said. Then he left the two of you alone.

“I'm sorry,” he started. “I should have been paying attention. I should have noticed you hadn't really slept or eaten. Or at least that you hadn't taken your meds.”

You just shook your head. “It's not your fault. We were both focused on Buck.”

“I still should have noticed.”

“You noticed when I was having an attack and got me help. That's all that matters.”

He just nodded, not seeming convinced.

“Can we go sit with Buck?” you asked.

“Maddie and their parents are in with him right now,” Eddie started. “How about we just go look through the window so you can see he's okay and then we go home so you can get some more rest?”

“I don't want to leave him. What if something happens?” You felt yourself spiraling. “What if something happens and– and we're not here?”

Eddie took your face between his hands and forced you to look at him. “Breathe.” He demonstrated a deep, calming breath for you. “He is stable. They don't expect anything to change overnight. And even if it did, we're not that far away. Okay?”

You took a few deep breaths. “Mmkay.”

“Besides, you know Buck would want you to rest and take care of yourself rather than sit around here.”

“Ugh. Fine,” you conceded. “Can we not tell him about my panic attack earlier?”

Eddie shook his head. “We can wait until he gets home. Unless he asks directly because I won't lie to him.”

You agreed and the two of you made your way towards the ICU. It really did help you to see him doing better. Leaning your head on Eddie’s shoulder, you were content to just stand I'm that hallway until Buck woke up but Eddie wouldn't go for that.

“Ready to go?” he asked.

“No,” you told him truthfully. “But we can anyway.”

A week later, Buck was finally coming home. You were practically vibrating with excitement.

Walking into the house, you tried to lead Buck towards the bedroom but he stopped you and attempted to head toward the couch. “You need to be resting,” you scolded him.

“Are you going to rest?” he asked.

“Me?” You asked, confused. “I'm fine. I didn't die a few days ago.”

Buck frowned. “The doctors ran tests to make sure you weren't having a heart attack because you nearly passed out from a panic attack.”

You scowled at Eddie. “When did you tell him?”

Eddie just shrugged. “He asked while you were loading up the car. I told you I wasn't going to lie to him.”

You sighed. “Regardless, I'm fine.”

Eddie shoved you and Buck towards the bedroom. “I think we could all use some rest. Let's all go take a nap and then we can watch a movie and eat take out in bed.”

“Sounds amazing. Except, when do we need to pick up Christopher?” you asked.

“Carla is keeping him overnight so we can get Buck settled in,” Eddie explained.

Buck nodded. “I vote pizza.”

“Deal,” you and Eddie agreed in unison.

#eddie diaz x reader #buddie x reader #evan buckley x reader #9 1 1 x reader #911 fanfic #911 reader insert

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blackdollette · 6 months

Text

starting to write for mgg as well now!

"you wanna make the switch?" | spencer reid

in my feelings. - lana del rey

⊹₊⋆ synopsis: from a geeky genius to a drunk-eyed, sweaty mess...

fill out the taglist form!

female!reader x sub!spencer

word count: 606

contents: blowjob, teasing, implied overstimulation, praise, drabble, not proofread!

it was almost funny how quickly you could flip spencer’s switch.

you knew all the right buttons to press. the way your tongue slid up his rock-hard shaft, swirling itself around his tip before making its way down again. the bedroom echoed with the sharp hisses and deep groans from spencer, a contrast to all his wisecracking bullshit. your boyfriend bit his lip, suppressing all the moans and whimpers that threatened to break free. the torture had been going on for hours, the hypnotizing motions of your mouth putting him into a deep trance.

he tossed his head back as he exahled a shaky breath, his hand glued to the back of your head in a failed attempt to slow down your pace. you took his cock into you throat, inhaling through your nose to create suction as his chestnut-brown doe eyes gazed right back down at you. “c’mon, angel… i-ive been good, would it hurt to just let me…” he was cut off by a deep groan emerging from his throat as you took him all the way in once again, your uvula fluttering against his pulsating tip.

you would’ve smirked if your lips weren’t occupied. you pulled your mouth off of him, spitting on his tip and giving him a few lazy strokes. his body quaked from the stimulation. “i-i… b-baby, i dunno i-if i…” a smile tugged at your lips as you watched how he struggled to enunciate his words. you put on a fake pout, tilting you head to the side as you squeezed his cock even tighter, causing him to bite his lip to suppress all the lewd noises that threatened to break free. “what was that, spence? i didn’t catch that.” you batted your eyelashes all innocent-like, watching him crumble apart filling you with a sick thrill.

“i-i can’t take anymore..!” he was gripping the bedsheets until his shaky hands went white. seeing him struggle made burning heat pool in your core as you slowly touched yourself through your panties. “aw, why not, baby? you’ve been doing so good for me all night…” you sat up from in between his legs, crawling onto his lap and bringing your lips to his ear, your warm breath hitting him right in the canal. “i know you can cum a few more times for me, right?” the base of your hand slapped against his balls, your thumb ghosting the tip each time your hand came back up.

beads of sweat glistened on spencer’s forehead, cheeks flushed with a soft shade of pink. you could tell it was taking every cell in his body to keep himself together. your spoke once more, your voice laced with a touch more authority. “you can take it, baby. i know you can.” he swallowed hard, biting the inside of his cheek as he nodded, wanting nothing else but to please you in this moment.

you spread your legs onto either side of him, tracing his tip along your clothed slit as he looked up at you, lip quivering as if they were begging for a taste of your soft lips. you pouted again as his hips began to buck into your fist. “you’re such a pretty boy, y’know that..?” his teary eyes lit up ever so slightly at the praise in your voice.

his tip bubbled with thick precum as his chest rose and fell with each breath. he held back the tears that threatened to pour from his eyes as he took a deep, shaky breath, resting his chin in your cleavage. you nodded in approval, a smile lighting up your face as you kissed him tenderly on the forehead.

“that’s my boy…”

author's note: i am not ditching the rory community! just wanted to see how writing for an ew character would go :)) please leave comments and let me know what yall think! (lmk if this was shitty)

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anundyingfidelity · 6 months

Text

I'M A RUIN — Soldier Boy/Ben (Part VI)

Series summary: After the events of the Seven Tower, you present Grace Mallory a new secret project you're working on already to develop a cure to Compound V. The only problem? You need Soldier Boy for that.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x female reader.

Word count: 2.5k.

Warnings for series: set after S3 (spoilers), some OOC!Ben, some depressed!Ben, angst, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, slow-burn, language, PTSD, reader has Compound V (she's no Vought supe tho), Soldier Boy being an usual asshole, reader is a fucking liar.

Warnings on this chapter: some suicide thoughts, very suggestive stuff, nudity, sexual tension barely starting, misogyny coming from you know who lol.

Notes: i was eager to drop this so here it is. hope i can make justice to the slow burn/slow sexual tension. aaaa as always thanks for reading!! ily all!

this fic tags: @k-slla @syrma-sensei @mostlymarvelgirl @cheynovak @drasticemotions @soldirboy @deans-spinster-witch

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

get yourself in the taglist!

GEN MASTERLIST! — SERIES MASTERLIST!

Part VI: Don't Lay Your Red Hand On Me

“Where the fuck are we going?” Ben asked, checking the picture outside the windshield.

The sun was already setting down, and there have been hours since you started driving. At least he had been able to see the damn sunset again after being caged for so long.

Despite his questioning look and not trusting you completely, both made it to your car in the middle of the mess of blood and headless corpses around the building, with him naked under the effects of your invisibility powers. Somehow, you still managed to reassure Soldier Boy it was to protect him. In fact, as you guided both out of the place, you were scared of your abilities not working properly to have him covered. The last thing you wanted was the cameras to have a look at him, escaping with your help.

Now, with Soldier Boy dressed in his clothes and you still wiping some of the dry blood from your skin, you drove without a destiny in mind. Just somewhere you could take him far away from Homelander and Vought. He was, in fact, your top priority and needed to be protected, even if you knew you were nothing compared to his strength and abilities, you still had the urgency of him trusting you, to feel like you really cared. And you did care, but for the wrong reasons and those, he didn’t have to know.

“Far away,” you responded, picking up your phone with one hand as you drove through the highway.

“That doesn’t tell me anything,” he insisted, looking at you switching your attention between the device in your hands and the road.

You dialed Grace, ignoring his voice. She didn’t answer immediately. You cursed under your breath and dialed again. No answer anew, just the ring and the automatic voicemail message. Well, fuck. You had to play with what you had.

“Hey, it’s me,” you began the message. “Please call me when you can, I have to inform you of something. It’s urgent, please call me back.”

Ben rolled his eyes, annoyed as fuck for your silence towards his demands. “You’re gonna tell me now what the fuck is going on? You’re a fucking supe and everyone is dead back there! And not ‘cause of me.”

“First, nothing to fear from me. Okay? You’re the one who’d kill me in a blink. Second, I don’t know!” you yelled as a response, clearly irritated. “I don’t know shit! I know we need to run and that’s all. So just shut up and let me drive.”

“Christ on a cross, you women are fucking irritating,” Ben fumed. He saw a cheap motel by the road and he would’ve guessed you were going there because you slowed down and pulled up in the parking lot. He sighed. “Home, shitty home.”

“Got any ideas? Because I’m all ears,” you stopped the engine and got down the car, taking the sports bag with you. The supe rolled his eyes and before he went out, you came right to his half open door. “Stay here, I'll check in.”

Ben shut his eyes, watching you closing the car door with a loud thud, and you left to get a room. He felt the need to storm behind and shout out what he really thought of your stupid ass bossing him around. If it wasn’t because he wasn’t really half the way out of the fucking car, he should have been arguing and insisting for some real answers. But for some reason he stayed back. When you came back after a short time he followed you to a double bed room you’d be using just for the night.

Once you entered, you decided a shower was first thing on the list, and then you had to communicate with Grace as soon as fucking possible. Checking around, you were thankful to find a couple of towels in the bathroom, while Ben settled on his own space, lying down on one of the beds.

He observed you thoroughly as you studied yourself in the dirty mirror hanging on the wall. The disgusting grimace you made told him you were looking for more blood to wipe off. And before he could speak again you turned to see him.

“I'm gonna take a shower,” you announced.

He raised a brow. “Mind some company, sweetheart?”

You rolled your eyes as you started to unbutton your blouse, his eyes checking shamelessly the little exposed skin didn’t go unnoticed by you. “Don't even think about it.”

And with that, you just disappeared inside the bathroom. The noise of water running compensated both of you for the silence. He turned on the cheap TV to have some noise for himself too, deciding he’d go for a shower after you. Probably if he was in a different mood would have just tried to get in your pants. Ben was getting so damn stressed out. First you took out his weed, then you announced he would have medication for his fucking stress disorder or some shit, and later, agents and employees of the facility just started to die violently without reason. He thought if any of you would be next while you walked him out.

It was too much to handle right now. He needed something to take it all out. Something, anything, somebody. Just to release it the only way he knew: with sexual pleasure. He didn't understand yet what the fuck was happening. Did you really care about him? You could just have left him there to handle everything by himself and run away. Yet, you took him out of the facility and he, once again, had a glimpse of your courage. Maybe a little. And he started to like that. Suddenly, he heard the shower being turned off and minutes later you came out of the bathroom sooner than he expected, dressed in the same clothing, drying the droplets on your face and wet hair.

“I’m gonna get some dinner, stay here” you announced, taking your phone and the room and car keys. “The door will be locked, don’t do anything stupid.”

Ben scoffed, standing up before making his way to take a shower himself. He faced you directly, just a couple of inches separating both of you. Your gaze challenged him to step closer. “I’m not a fucking animal.”

You hummed, without looking away from his eyes. “Sometimes I doubt you.”

“Locking the fucking door won’t do shit, why you keep doing this?” Ben asked, visible confusion on his features. He really looked tired as hell. Tired of your bullshit.

“It’s not because of you. I perfectly understand that, just wait for me here.”

With that, you turned on your heels and left the room. From the other side, you locked the door. Ben let out a deep breath. He knew it was easy to tear it apart, and again, run after you to have damn answers for once. But instead, he decided to calm himself a little and get rid of his clothes. Inside the shower, he let the warm water take care of the burdens he was carrying, without knowing, on his back. He wondered if he’d been better dead by now, if sleeping in a chamber was a greater choice than this, just running along with you, a woman, who just seemed to fuck him up even more instead of playing real like you had promised. If he knew how to kill himself, probably would’ve done it already. He was getting sick of hiding, of being a fucking experiment, to be under someone’s else’s orders… The worst part of it all is that he never had the right to choose on his own faith. Not even his own death.

Out of the room, you were a few feet away from the door you left behind when your phone started to ring softly. An unknown number appeared on the screen and cautiously you answered, making your way to the car, getting inside on the co-pilot seat.

“Hello?” a voice you knew too well started to speak after some seconds of silence.

“Grace?”

The woman on the other line breathed out. “Yeah, it’s me. Uhm, couldn’t attend earlier, sorry…”

“It’s okay,” you shook your head, as if she could see you face to face. “We’ve been compromised. My lab assistants, the nurses, scientists, guards… Everyone is dead.”

“Fuck,” Grace hissed. She sounded exhausted. “Where is Soldier Boy?”

“I took him out, checked us in at a motel. Can’t go back to my old place. Not yet.”

“You have the copies of the project, right?”

For a moment you felt she was doubting you, but you answered anyway, surprised she would even ask that. “I do.”

There was a little silence coming from her. You continued. “I don’t think I told you yet, but… Fuck, I received a visit from Homelander a couple of days ago. He crashed into my apartment… He knows.”

Grace cursed under her breath. “Y/N, we’re playing with fire here.”

You swallowed thickly, feeling your heartbeat raising. “What’s going on with you? Something happened back there?”

“Victoria Neuman came, saying she wanted to talk to me. She kinda threatened my life, and I’m on the run… Now I can make the puzzle.”

“You think they might be working together?”

“Probably. Senator Bishop was found dead, and guess who is running now with Robert Singer for vice president.”

You chuckled. The whole situation was so ironically clear. “Victoria, that stupid, smart bitch.”

“I’m gonna get some information on her, I know some people who’d know more than I do. I’ll call once I find something.”

“Okay, I’ll wait for that. Do you need me to do anything?”

“Just keep Soldier Boy busy. Work on that injection as soon as you can,” she ordered.

You nodded to yourself, taking a look around the empty lot. “Yes, ma’am.”

After a somewhat long time, Ben saw you entering the room and locking the door. You left a paper bag and water on the nightstand by his bed, where he laid down like he was having a nice day on the beach with only a towel around his hips. He noticed you looked down at him a little longer than usual, but he wasn’t going to let that slip. A sleazy smirk formed on his lips.

“My eyes are up here, sugar.”

You turned away your gaze for a moment before looking back up at him again, confident this time as you locked up your eyes with his half-lidded ones.

“Stop the pet names, Soldier Boy.”

Ben stood up on his feet slowly under your eyes following his moves. His muscular frame towering over your figure as the towel fell to the floor, revealing his bare figure to you. He was growing fond of the way you didn’t step back, ever, from him.

“Well, you never complained back there. Speaking of,” he took the bottle of water between his hands and took a sip from it before his green orbs focused on you anew. “I think you owe me an explanation.”

“I already told you. I don’t know shit.”

“Fucking lies,” the supe hissed. “Tell me now.”

You shrugged and crossed your arms on your chest, tired of him. “I have nothing.”

“Sweetheart, you never shut your piehole during our sessions. Don’t back up now,” he dared, stepping closer to you, eyelids narrowing.

Neither Ben or you dared to look away. You had to act like it, for your good. What if Soldier Boy found out that probably Homelander was behind all of it? It was going to be the end of him, his son; the fucking abusive experiment would be gone with a blast. But Vought was still around. It wasn’t just about Homelander or personal payback. It was more than that.

Homelander was barely the tip of the iceberg. And you were afraid Ben would never understand the mission. Would he say yes to use his blood to create even more experiments after all he went through, even if you explained everything? You knew his answer. The next step was getting it from him and it was going to be the hardest thing ever. But you could think of that later. There was nothing that a small cut accident couldn’t do.

“I’m not talking because I have nothing to tell you, Ben,” you lied, looking at him with your brows knitting together. “I wish I knew, but I’m just as scared as you might be.”

“I’m not scared,” he replied a little too fast. “I want to know why you took me out.”

“Why not?” you insisted. “You deserve another chance.”

And I need you alive to find a cure to this curse.

Ben scrutinized your face. This time, he couldn’t read through you. What did he know though, was that he was tired. A burning ache was forming inside him once again and he needed to release it. He was used to sensing your heartbeats, the blood running on your veins, and still now there was no glimpse of you reacting to his teasing. Any other woman would have thrown herself at him, he was used to it. Now, there wasn’t anyone. Just you, paying no attention to his perfectly sculpted body and his cock between his legs. It had to be the fact that you were a supe. Not as powerful, but still. A clear advantage in the cursed world you all lived in. He took in your body, thinking into luring you to give in and imagining how it would be to have you crying under him, moaning his name exactly like numerous women have. Just for the night.

“Don’t think about it, Soldier Boy,” you voiced out, like if you read his nasty mind. “I’m not gonna do that.”

His eyes went back to your face. “Y’know, I used to have lines of women like you during my days. Countless lines of rich whores, waiting to have a good fuck with me. Pretty ladies whose husbands would leave unattended, cute little secretaries, bombshell Hollywood actresses… All of them, just wet holes ready for me. I’d take them all.”

You chuckled at his pathetic little speech. If that was his way of getting you to bed, it wasn’t working. Not now, not never.

“I’m not just any rich whore, Ben. I don’t want to fuck you, you can use the bathroom to take care of your little problem down there.”

You saw how his jaw clenched as he held his eyes with yours.

He smirked. “Maybe not today, pretty thing. But you’ll see.”

“Be my guest.”

Ben turned around, giving you a clear view of his ass as he locked himself inside the bathroom. The sound of the shower running was not enough to cover his moans and grunts as he jerked himself off. You just decided to sleep. There was a long drive waiting for you in the morning.

#soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy imagines #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy fanfiction #the boys amazon prime #the boys series #the boys tv #jensen ackles fanfiction #soldier boy/ben

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mylove-iv · 6 months

Text

❝goddesses, he wants you in some chaste, victorian way.❞

ʚ aged up, hw! link x fem! reader ɞ

synopsis: the hero of warriors catches glimpses of your skin and he’s entranced, lustfully so.

genres: romance.

rating: mature, 18+ (mdni).

reader specifications: reader is written dressed in a silk robe and slip dress, reader is also written to have long-ish hair and uses lip rouge, no pronouns are used but was written with a female reader in mind.

content warnings: suggestive, contains depictions of implied smut, bruising, and biting.

word count: 849 words.

author’s note: based and inspired by this post on pinterest! i’m slowly getting into writing linked universe (lu) members, so stay tuned for more!

―originally posted on @mydarling-iv, apr. 2, 2023

ʚ part i ɞ | ʚ masterlist ɞ

Warriors sighs, running a hand over his face in frustration because of high society's conformities and the annoying nobles. Fake smiles, poison-drenched words, and wavering loyalties amongst the nobility had always drained him.

But as he reaches your door, a smile can't help but tug on his lips, the exhaustion in his bones evaporating at the thought of spending time with you.

He forgoes knocking, knowing that you are in your quarters and won't mind his presence. His steps are quiet and the soft smell of jasmine your room is encompassed in hits his nose in an almost wanton and sensual way that reminds him of silk and rouge.

The very same silk draped against your smooth skin and the rouge he noticed you'd sometimes apply to your kissable lips.

Warriors ignores his straying thoughts as he reaches the archway that leads to your room, silken threads tangling and hanging from the arch and his breathing nearly halts at the sight before him.

Sitting atop a creamy white vanity stool, there you were, clothed only in a silken robe, soft and smooth legs on display for Warriors.

He had never seen you in such little clothing—skin exposed for his vivid cerulean eyes to feast on—forcing Warriors to lose himself to the burning inferno within his mind.

Goddesses, how he wishes he could embrace you with no barriers of clothing in between, feeling your heartbeat hammer against his chest in a raw, wanton way.

He longed to have your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, hips swaying in a sinful, lust-filled dance as he kisses and bites your saccharine lips so much your lips would blush as if you had freshly applied rouge. You'd sing sweet nothings and praises, whines and whimpers tumbling from your kiss-bitten lips from how good he'd make you feel-

Warriors' body starts to warm up, a blistering heat he could only recognize as desire flaring beneath his skin as his eyes follow and trace your every move.

Removing the hairpin that tucked your hair neatly, your h/c locks fall over your shoulders and down your back in soft waves. His hand twitches at the urge to thread his fingers through your hair before pulling gently, hoping to elicit a sound that would only feed the raging fire of want simmering within him.

Warriors closes his eyes as a means to keep the bubbling of his yearning from spilling over before he opens them once more. A grunt nearly tumbles from his lips as you gently and carefully slip your robe off your shoulders, movements slow and teasing.

You run a delicate hand through your locks before swiping your hair over your shoulder and he can't help but let out a barely audible groan tumble from his lips. It becomes apparent how much he desires you, his groan borderline sounding agonized at the sight of your bare back your silk slip dress presents to him.

The skin of your back looks so smooth and so soft and the need of bruising your hips and love handles with marks of his hands having a tight grip on the flesh of your waist becomes prevalent, growing stronger with every passing second.

The skin of your shoulders tempt him to dig his teeth into your sweet skin to leave hues of red and purple that'd stain your skin for weeks, letting the world know who you belonged to before he'd move his lips to your ear, whispering sweet nothings and the sinful things he'd do to you-

He silently groans at the rush of blood flowing through his body—goddesses was he screwed.

Just the mere sight of your bare legs and shoulders could get him going. Just a glimpse of bare skin from any part of your body can and will kill him.

You'll be the death of him. Warriors swallows thickly, eyes squeezing shut before a quiet sigh leaves his lips and he makes the decision to leave.

He turns and his body suddenly freezes, shuddering as you call out his name softly, your voice ever so soft and filled with an apparent wanton need that sent off a chain reaction within his body, want blooming into full-blown desire and lust.

It's silent and it feels like an eternity to Warriors before you murmur his name again, voice teasing and smooth as the obvious want dripping from your honeyed call of his name coaxes him into turning around.

Warriors' vivid cerulean eyes meet yours in the mirror sitting atop your vanity and his heart nearly stops, The fires of want and desire for you blazing strongly as your e/c look into his, mirroring the same carnal desire he's sure is apparent in his own eyes.

The air between you fills quickly with tension as you smile softly—teasing even—and it evokes a heated reaction from the man that he could no longer ignore and hold back.

Warriors’ legs bring him closer to you in long strides before you're encased in his strong arms, lips moving hurriedly against each other’s in desperation overflowing with a love-filled yearning and raw desire.

#𝐢𝐯'𝐬 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠.°♡༉‧₊#legend of zelda: gallery of warriors ༉‧₊˚✧#legend of zelda #hyrule warriors #loz #hw #legend of zelda link x reader #hyrule warriors link x reader #linked universe #linked universe x reader #lu #lu warriors #lu warriors x reader #warriors x reader #linked universe fluff #linked universe angst #link x reader #link x fem reader #reader insert

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froggibus · 2 months

Note

Could I request some soft nsfw with Reyes during his Blackwatch era? Like he and his gn s/o (who’s maybe in Ow or Bw, choose whatever <3) just decide to take it slow and soft after a day of missions and work?

(Love your Reaper fics and your work in general 😞🫶)

Morning Glory - Gabriel Reyes

Pairing: Gabriel Reyes x reader (no pronouns are used but reader has a pussy)

Genre: smut/nsfw

Word Count: 1.1k

Summary: your husband has no problem being late to work if he can bask in your morning glory just a little while longer

CW: established relationship (married), finger sucking, morning sex, unprotected sex, creampie, slight dom/sub vibes, just some wholesome sex I swear, only the teeniest tiniest bit of plot

hey!! thanks so much for this request 💓 ive been really soft for Reyes lately so I had a lot of fun writing this ^^ I did change it a tiny bit to fit better, I hope that’s okay & you still enjoy it!! hope you’re having a wonderful day hun

Gabriel laces his fingers through yours, flattening his palms and forcing your hands further into the mattress. His brown eyes are near black, pupils bloated with lust. The golden sun from the window behind him pools on the back of his head, looking like a halo in your early morning fog.

“How’re you feeling, angel?”

You whimper when his hips snap against yours again, the head of his cock brushing your cervix. That burning, searing knot inside of you only grows. You tighten your own grip, curling your nails into the skin on the backs of his rough hands.

He slows down, his dick painfully still inside of you. “Y/n,” he says in that same tone you’ve seen him use with his agents. “Use your words.”

“G—good.”

He smiles and rewards you with a kiss, pushing forward until his cock bottoms out inside of you. His hips roll into yours, the hard skin of his toned stomach brushing against the bare skin of yours. Your pussy flutters in response.

You sneak a glance at the alarm clock on your nightstand, the green LEDs reading dangerously close to the time you have to be at work. You squirm beneath your husband but the attempt is futile.

He kisses you once more, love and passion and the aftertaste of his protein shake flooding your mouth. The stubble on his face tickles yours, a grateful distraction from the assault on your pussy.

“Where’re you trying to go, hm?”

You bite your lip and blink at him through tears after a particularly deep thrust, as if he’s trying to emphasise his words with every motion. “We’re gonna be late for work,” you say. “I didn’t realize it was so late, we need to get ready—”

Gabriel pulls all the way out of you before slamming back in, your whole body quivering from the sudden intensity. You cry out, eyes and hands clenching shut. You’re only vaguely aware of him laughing above you in the aftershocks of your pleasure.

He releases your left hand, trailing his down to cup at your cheek. You flex your fingers awkwardly, the muscles stiff from the bruising grip he’s had on you all morning. He taps your face gently, prompting you to open your eyes.

“Work, work,” he taunts. His thrusts are slow once more, shallow and teasing as his cock barely dips into your heat. “I’ve been working all damn week. I can be late just once.”

He captures your lips in a ravenous kiss, teeth gnawing at your bottom lip until you submit and open wide for him. His tongue swirls around your mouth, tangling against yours, running along the backs of your teeth, feeling every part of you.

His other hand tightens against yours with another roll of his hips. His mouth is steady on yours while he rocks back into you, building up to a steady pace that finally starts to relieve the pressure you’ve felt all morning. Every movement of his cock, every forward motion, has your walls stretching apart, splitting open against his width in a way that has your eyes rolling back.

He pulls away from you, a string of spit connecting your lips until it splits in the centre and coats your lips. He flashes you a lusty smile, running his thumb across your swollen mouth to smear it even more. He loves you like this—all desperate and messy and whiny beneath him in the morning light.

You tilt your head to look at the alarm clock once more but he fucks into you harshly, his thrusts increasing to a pace that even he struggles to keep track of. His hand grips your chin tightly, forcing you to look at him.

“Eyes off the clock, angel.” His tone is kind but there’s a new desperation behind it, something telling you to just submit and let him use you.

You open your mouth to protest but he slips his thumb inside, running it over the ridges of your tongue. On reflex, you close your mouth and start sucking on it, circling your tongue around it the same way you did to his cock earlier this morning.

Gabriel smirks at you, as if remembering the same thing. His other hand finally releases yours—your fingers almost numb—and grabs your waist. He uses his grip as leverage to fuck into you deeper, faster. His fingers prod into your skin and drag you to him with every thrust, meeting him halfway every time.

His thrusts are so intense that you have no choice but to close your eyes, that unbearable heat in the base of your stomach threatening to explode at any second. Your toes curl into themselves at an especially harsh thrust, stinging waves of pleasure racing up your spine until you feel dizzy.

You cry out for him, your still sore fingers lacing through the dark strands of his hair and tugging hard. He pulls his thumb out of your mouth with a pop, cleaning it off in his own mouth before placing it on your waist to mirror his other hand.

“Fuck, I missed you.” He babbles, “feel like I haven’t gotten to fuck you in forever, baby. Missed this pussy.”

You nod along with his words, but through the intense thrum of pleasure filling your ears, you hardly hear what he’s saying. You tighten your grip and arch your back, trying to angle him deeper. Gabriel follows your motion, pressing a firm hand down on your stomach, palming his cock through your skin.

He grunts at the feeling, only spurring himself further until he’s pistoning in and out of you, your walls fluttering around him in warning. Heat washes over your entire body, sweat starting to slick your temples. He presses soft kisses to your lips, grinding himself so deep into you that it almost hurts, and then your orgasm washes through you.

You clench, every muscle in your body tightening as pleasure takes over completely. Your pussy squeezes his cock, stilling his movements and sending him over the edge with you. Hot ropes of cum flood your pussy, Gabriel grabbing your face tightly and kissing you with all the desperation in the world.

You pant into the kiss, finally relaxing and letting your body drop into the mattress. Your ears ring and blackspots dance across your vision, but the feeling of your husband’s cock filling you up, his rough lips on yours, are incomparable.

Gabriel is sweating by the time he’s sliding out of you, the gushing combination of your slick and his cum running out of your pussy and staining the sheets. You look at it with a frown—you’ll have to wash those later.

He rolls off of you and glances at your alarm clock. “Wow,” he says, voice hoarse. “We’re gonna be really late for work.”

You fix him with a glare. “No kidding.”

He smiles sheepishly, though you know better than anyone he has no regrets. None whatsoever.

masterlist | overwatch masterlist

thank you so much for reading ^^ every like, comment & reblog is so appreciated ♥

#overwatch #overwatch 2 #ow2 #overwatch x reader #ow #overwatch x you #overwatch fic #Gabriel Reyes #Gabriel Reyes overwatch #Gabriel Reyes smut #Gabriel Reyes x reader #Gabriel Reyes x you #Overwatch smut #reaper overwatch #reaper x reader #reaper x you #reaper smut #froggi after dark

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tinycozycomfort · 1 year

Text

rest in the cup of my palms (part one)

pairing: no outbreak!joel miller x art student f!reader

chapter one: drawing from life

series masterlist | next chapter

series summary: you went back to school to find out who you are—to make another leap in the hope of self discovery. when you finally find that first glimpse of yourself, it’s in someone else. what happens when the mirror tries to pull you in? or you’re everything joel could’ve hoped to find. he doesn’t let go easily.

chapter summary: ellie volunteers joel to model for a drawing class on campus. you find someone worth dreaming about.

warnings/tags: no outbreak, no use of y/n, (for everything) -> mutual pining!, possessive behavior, smut (w individual tags to come), unnecessary descriptions of joel being beautiful, ellie is joel's daughter, ellie and reader attend the same university but reader is in post-grad, age gap (joel is late 40s, reader is not), alternating pov, slow-ish burn, joel miller wins girl dad of the century via unanimous vote (for this chapter) -> masturbation (f), intense feelings of loneliness, existential rumination

word count: 7.2k

rating: explicit (18+ only! mdni)

A/N: some good ol' work up, necessary to explain the rated r plans i have for them. ive been terrified of writing a series but i'm also tired of editing everything down to be one-shot appropriate, so today we try. im full-swing into my fixation era and on my 'i cant be loved + ive known how to love you for 1,000 lifetimes' bullshit. this fic is as self indulgent as they come, but i hope you can enjoy it! and for those of you willing to trudge through this with me, i love you.

read on ao3

“To photograph people is to violate them, by seeing them as they never see themselves, by having knowledge of them that they can never have; it turns people into objects that can be symbolically possessed.”

Susan Sontag - On Photography

───────

A halo of hot light falls through the pane of glass above the sink. Joel’s got one eye pinched semi-shut, trying hard to focus on not burning himself while he drains boiling water out of a pot of pasta.

When he woke up this morning, the blinds on every window in the house had been strung up to the lip. He’d barely gotten a hand around one of the strings in the glass frame above the couch before Ellie appeared out of nowhere to literally slap his wrist, ‘I’m drawing’. Still groggy, he tried to challenge her, ‘Do they all have to be open?’, to which she patiently explained—for what she probably feels is the millionth time—that she needed the extra light, and if she had them all open when she started, they’d need to stay that way until she was done.

So he left her to work, knowing she’s got midterms to finish, walking around with his eyes closed until he felt his way back into his bedroom. He came out once for coffee, and not again until dinner. This is their weekend.

Joel spoons out some of the food into bowls, leaving them to stay warm by the stove before he steps into the dining room. He stops himself half-way, hanging back in the archway to give his daughter another minute as the last shreds of strong sunlight start to wane out.

Ellie’s right where he left her: at the table, cross-legged in her chair with an eraser-less pencil held tightly in her fist. She’s hunched over a large pad of paper, the back of it lifted at an angle under a pile of old books and dog-eared tool catalogs. The sketchbook she uses as a reference guide is propped up on the corner of her left knee, leaned against the edge of the table. She rifles between two pages of it, eyeing some of the quick sketches—visual notes, as she puts it—that she took in class to help her navigate the larger, more detailed version with ease. Silent save for her short huffs of breath, she’s concentrated, wrist-corner lifted to not misplace any graphite. Her process is always the same; a little creature of habit.

She’s wearing her headphones, the cord winding dangerously low, threatening to dip into a cup of water she’d placed in the empty triangle between her lap—the same one he’d seen her with six hours ago. She hasn’t even touched it, still full nearly to the brim. He wonders if she’s gotten up at all. The girl works herself a bit too hard, he thinks, always falls head first into whatever project she’s working on, nothing if not like her dad. The corner of his mouth tugs up so tight it hurts. What is he going to do without her?

He just stands there, feet crossed on top of each other and arms in a twist over his chest, and watches her while she’s not looking, knowing she still gets shy sometimes when he catches her like this. She’s the sweetest reminder of everything good Joel’s ever done; another life he’d gladly offer his own for.

It’s always come naturally—to be what someone needs of him—in a way that transcends reward or expectation.

Joel had been his brother’s primary caregiver first, from birth and then well into their adulthood—always around to bail him out of jail or lend him money he didn’t have. Because he cared. Loved him. He couldn’t ever really say it, always had a problem with the wording, but he knew that at least some of what he wanted to explain had come across. He can see it in the way Tommy is with his own family.

His brother has Maria now, and the kids, and seeing how happy Tommy could be in spite of their upbringing was the first time Joel had ever put his priorities into question. Somewhere in all the caring-for he did, he’d forgotten about himself; the possibility of having his own wife and child and home. He’d always ached for that, deep down, but didn’t even know it was an option until he saw it happen. By that point, he wasn’t sure if he could do any of it, or if he even had the time to start. Then came Ellie.

She entered his life when a close friend of Tommy’s had died unexpectedly and no one came forward to claim her, unknowingly giving him a second chance; one he worked to make count. She was tough to crack at first—also like him in that way—but the love had always been there, waiting its turn after all the awkwardness and misunderstanding and adapting before finally showing its face. She’d needed him then, as much as his brother had all those years ago, carrying on the torch of purpose that Joel so feverishly searched for.

He rolls his eyes at himself; he’s been having too many misty-eyed moments about her lately. It’s so unserious, the actuality of it; of being her dad. Going to work and the supermarket and museums, being there to chaperone field-trips and take one-thousand mostly-blurry photos of her graduation. But it’s been everything to him. He’s desperately clung to the five years of her life that she’s shared with him, and he’s so proud to witness it, but he knows she’s getting to a point where she needs to be her own person. He’ll miss her when she’s only home for summers, then only home for Christmas, then only home once in a while—so he holds on to every bit, and tries not to think about what’s next for him.

He walks closer to her, tilting his head to try and steal a glance of what it is she’s working on. He catches a glimpse of the face of a woman, a portrait from shoulders-up. She’s pretty, with a soft and thoughtful expression, looking downward off the side of the pad. From what he could make out between the movements of Ellie’s hand, she even looks a little shy. His daughter rubs at the cheeks and nose of the girl on the paper, imitating the shadow-less areas where light would fall. Joel is mesmerized by the way she creates so effortlessly, like breathing.

Without moving her head, she pulls a tiny white bobble out from her ear, “I know you’re watching me, weirdo.”

Joel laughs, wet and thick in his mouth with the emotion he’s still climbing down from, “Is this how you treat me when I’m trying to feed you?”

She smiles, he can see the fat of her cheek rounding out even from this angle, “You should’ve just said that.”

Ellie leaves her set-up untouched, just getting up and moving down to an empty seat while Joel goes to bring the food out.

She shifts around in her seat, feet folded again on the flat of it, eating too fast—ill-mannered—and it reminds Joel of all the nights they spent at Tommy’s for family dinner, right at the beginning, back when they’d just begun to become close. When she’d push his patience with her behavior to see if he’d say something, to see if he still paid her mind—he always did, still does, “Jesus Christ, kid. Have I taught you nothing?”

She holds back a laugh, mouth full of tomato sauce, “You love it. I’m charming.”

He snorts, the two of them falling into a comfortable quiet for only a few minutes before she breaks it again, “Speaking of how much you love me, I need to ask you for a favor.”

“Oh no,” He jokes, “What now?”

“Remember those drawings I turned in of you last month?” She starts pushing around the last bite of her spaghetti, never a good sign, but he nods anyway for her to continue, “Well my teacher really liked them. And there’s been an issue with finding people to sit for the drawings. Sooo,” she really drags it out, “I signed you up.”

“What do you mean, you signed me up? For what?”

“To model,” Joel’s mouth pops open in an immediate attempt to oppose, but Ellie’s quicker, “Didn’t you say you’d always support me in school?”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” Joel finishes his plate and then they’re both just clinking their forks against porcelain for a heavy eightnineten seconds before she gives it another shot.

“C’mon, seriously. I’ll get extra credit if you do it,” She lets out a long sigh like she can’t believe she has to explain anything more than that, “My professor teaches a Monday session for the master’s program and they need people. It’s just one time.”

“Ellie. It’s Sunday. How are you gonna tell me this now?”

“Please, you just sit there for, like, two hours while they draw you and you don’t have to talk. That’s two of your favorite things. Three if you consider that you’d be helping me out.” she looks at him with a sticky-sweet smile, eyes crinkled—like she knows she’s getting away with it.

She might be.

“Why don’t you ask one of your friends to do it?” Joel gathers up their plates from the table to carry them into the kitchen. Ellie picks up their still half-full glasses as an excuse to follow him.

“Because we all have class together tomorrow on the other side of campus. Plus, you’re easy to draw and—”

“Hey.”

She ignores the flat look he shoots her, flipping on the sink, “That’s a compliment, by the way. But really, it’s no effort and you’d be getting me into a good place with my professor ‘cause she’ll be super grateful. The budget’s kinda tight this semester.”

“Then what am I payin’ for, if you’re gonna make me do this stuff myself?” It’s a half-hearted dig—he’s mostly annoyed because she probably already figured out he’s going to agree.

Her little smirk graduates to a shit-eating grin, she knows it, “Best dad ever.”

“You’re a pain in my ass, y’know that?”

“Just because I knew you were gonna say that, I actually signed you up for two.”

───────

Joel stumbles out of the elevator, filing hurriedly through groups of students with a new-found purpose now that he’s managed to make it to the correct floor. Ellie made a point of not mentioning that he had to be at the school at 7:30am until she was saying goodnight to him a few hours ago, because she thought it would dissuade him—she was right—so now he’s running late on top of everything else.

He’s got the little scaled-down, splotchy-printed version of the campus map gripped tightly between his hands. Room 14B is seemingly only two turns and one corner from where he stands—if he’s holding it the right way. He wants to ask for directions, but he feels too out-of-place to set aside his embarrassment. He’s older than at least half the staff, and some of the attendees are even younger, and he doesn’t want to run the risk of looking incapable, as foolish as it is. He wishes Ellie would have just offered to show him where to go before she headed off to her own class.

For someone who prides themselves on their ability to parent, he feels hopeless now without his daughter; not for the first time, but it’s especially harsh considering the circumstances. It hurts something bittersweet, to think about how much more they’ve bonded since he started working less and she decided to live at home her first year of college (though it’s coming to an end sooner than he’d like). Again, too many sad thoughts, and she’s not here, so he trudges on.

He walks in two more circles before he finds the right place—down a fucking hallway and hidden behind a door he didn’t know he was allowed to open, of course. A woman with long, dark blonde hair is sitting at a desk by the door when he enters. She doesn’t look up at him.

“Good morning, ma’am. Sorry I’m late. My—uh. You teach my daughter? I’m here for—”

“Ellie’s dad,” She cocks her head without meeting his eye, “Late? You’re about twenty minutes early, she told me you probably would be.”

She knows me too well, the brat. He chastises her in his mind but outwardly he corrects himself, “Yes, right, sorry. I’m a little turned around.”

“That’s alright. There’s just a waiver you need to sign, and you can get undressed in the bathroom down the hall. I’ll give you a cover-up to wear until I come to grab you.”

Right, he��d have to be naked. He already knew that—sort-of—having seen dozens of Ellie’s sketches from semesters past. He knows the students don’t see it that way, knows that they’ve all drawn the same things so many times they would be desensitized to his nudity. They’d probably all be desensitized to him as well; in their eyes, he was just a reference, as familiar as any of the memorialized piles of fruit or arrangements of glass that Ellie's also brought home.

Still, Joel feels a wash of anxiety come over him. He’s more than comfortable in his body, after putting it through so much, but this degree of vulnerability is severe in comparison to vanity or sex—it’s a state of living he hasn’t participated in for a long time. He doesn’t like to be seen, and being documented—having physical evidence of how he’s interpreted by others—makes his stomach turn. He hasn’t looked in a mirror for more than a moment in months, but it can’t be that bad, right? Ellie’s always given him a favorable light, but he worries she has a bias beyond belief. What if he sees something about himself he doesn’t like? What if everyone’s been able to see it all along?

Caught in his thoughts, he doesn’t realize the woman is still talking, “We have a scheduled break halfway through class. You can leave then. Next week it’ll flip and you can come for the latter half so they can finish.” She slides the form and a swath of black fabric across the table, and almost like she can sense his apprehension, finally raises her head to give him a meaningful look, “Thank you again for doing this. I know it can feel weird, but it makes a difference for them. There’ll be a joint show at the end of the month, too, with Ellie’s class.”

He just offers her a little nod of his head, thank you, signing the form and padding to the bathroom to unceremoniously disrobe in an empty stall.

It’s just two hours.

───────

If they make you take another figure-drawing class, you’re going to scream.

You’d think this far into a second degree, the school board would stop requiring you to take what is essentially the same class every semester. Sincerely, the only thing that changes is how long the session runs and what number follows the class title. It’s getting old.

To be fair, it’s not necessarily that you dislike drawing—it provides a pretty firm foundation for your personal work to stand on—it’s just tedious. Nothing is inspiring about assignment-based work, especially when they’ve decided the only way you can prove your skill-set is to make you draw the same three objects five-thousand ways.

But it’s not up to you.

So here you are again, two weeks from spring break, back in this frigid building after surviving another forty minutes of traffic, body still stiff from fighting the urge to fall asleep at the wheel.

It’s important, you remind yourself, to show up and put your fullest effort into everything, no matter how much you don’t enjoy it. Even if just to prove to yourself you can still finish things.

Coming back to school was an idea you’d toyed with for years after graduating.

There had been a lot of pressure on you to go in the first place, from your parents and your teachers and your nightmare of an ex, because according to them you’d get nowhere without it. After enough pressure and in a need to appease them, you folded and went; suffered every long night and pushed through every period of self-doubt and smiled for every ‘worth-capturing’ moment right up to the end. And then when it was over, gone faster than you could comprehend, you felt like something was taken away from you, even with how low it had made you—the worst kind of stockholm syndrome.

In an attempt to keep some momentum, you were over-eager for more right out of the gate. There was an initial need to continue, because you’d been reliant on academic structure just by the nature of familiarity, and maybe a little ill-prepared to face who you were without guidance. Without the instruction of someone with two degrees and a smoking addiction and no teaching license. Now it sounds silly, but then you spent a few too many nights uncontrollably looking into post-grad institutions or internship programs, googling professors and reading forums for first-hand accounts.

Then, after a year, the thought of continuing got a little less exciting, and you became comfortable in the freedom of nothing after being in school your whole life. So you pretended to research, emailed everyone about how great the options looked, signed up for one-on-ones you didn’t show up for—until people stopped asking.

It was at that point that you finally had the time to process what you were doing and why, and accepted that you didn’t have to have all the answers, despite what everyone had led you to believe. Truthfully, you still had no idea who you wanted to be and that’s okay—living with it and living alongside it weren’t mutually exclusive. You just took time to practice being yourself—sucked up the embarrassment and did the work, little exercises in unleashing yourself onto the world instead of letting every experience be done to you. If you were going to do anything anymore, even something like continuing your education, it had to be on your own terms, to try it all in the effort of self-discovery.

So yes, applying and getting accepted and attending every class—even this one—this time around was for you—to better yourself instead of just filling an expectation. You’re determined to make good on the opportunity.

And it has been better, so far. You even have friends this time around. Okay, two, and one of them is your roommate, but it's more of a support system than what you had going into undergrad.

You say yes now, too; not to everything, but to more than before. Which is maybe how you got roped into getting ‘introductory’ drinks later this evening with everyone, now that more people have joined the program as winter thaws out and it’s easier to commute. It’ll be nice to swap ideas and catch up and maybe even get laid instead of spending hours staring at the ceiling and willing time to pass. That thought alone is enough to keep you here.

It’s just two hours.

The room this semester is a little bigger, at least; probably the only perk that moving up so gracefully from Drawing II to Drawing III had earned you. It’s still unfortunately just another classroom; windowless to protect it from outside influence and drenched in fluorescent light to create a controlled environment. Old, stained art horses form a circle in the center of the space, crowding around a painted-gray wood pallet like an audience. A metal stool sits atop the make-shift stage, providing a seat for the subject. It’s clinical, the way the elements come together; a perfectly disarrayed scene that’s been neatly curated to emulate every ‘socratic seminar’ model you’ve seen in education since you can remember. Always the same.

You’re hoping for someone new today to rest on the chair; the department has been in less-than-preferred financial standing lately, so you’ve seen the same faces interchanged for most of the term.

Your professor is at her desk when you make your way in, greeting you with a grin despite the tired look on her face. A hardworking woman, the shadows under her eyes gave her a beauty you could only explain as determined. You knew she cross-taught for both sections of the department, and you respected her for it. It couldn’t be anything short of a struggle to toggle between those modes of seriousness—to have the patience to answer the younger students’ unending questions and the passion to keep the post-grads engaged.

Moving to get a seat as far on the outskirts of the cluster as possible, you watch as your classmates arrive slowly until all the slots are filled. No one really talks, probably all similarly bogged down by the early start and the cold weather outside. Ian, your friend who’d invited you out tonight, waves at you from four horses down and you halfheartedly nod back at him.

“Good morning everyone, we’ve only got two more classes after this until your week off, so we’ll make this next one a two-parter and have critique on the twenty-first. I want you guys to focus on composition more than anything else,” She turns in her seat to write some names on the board behind her, “We’ll go for two hours then break. If your name’s up here we’ll have a conversation about your thesis. The rest of you can go.”

Thankfully you’ve been spared this time—granted another seven-nights-straight writing the segment of your thesis that was meant to be finished two months ago. Your brain hurts inside of your skull.

You set up your little station, sketchpad raised against the easel, body straddling the drawing horse as you fiddle with some dirty erasers in your pack.

You can hear the slap slap slap of the model’s feet on the concrete floor as they enter—a long gait paired with hard, thudding steps; probably a man by the sound of it. Tall and heavy.

“Okay guys, we’re starting,” She winds up the dial on a plastic kitchen timer and sets it on the edge of her desk, “Let me know if you need anything. I’ll be making a few passes throughout and we’ll exchange thoughts.”

You roll your neck, knowing the model tends to take a minute to find a comfortable position, and that people watching didn’t do anything to help. A tempered soundtrack—the poorly contained buzzing of the clock and the moan of the air-conditioning—plays on in the background. Your leg is asleep. It’s cold in here. You count to thirty in your head. That’s enough time, right? You shift again, stretching your arms once more just in case.

Looking up, you peer over the side of the easel to get a quick look at the model’s pose and immediately do a double take.

It is a man.

He’s sitting on the chair, facing the girl a few seats down from you so that you can only see him from a three-quarters view. He has one long, thick leg pushed against the lower bar of the stool, the other one, closest to you, hiked up on the seat, folded so that his knee points towards the ceiling. His arms are crossed, hugging his erect shin with his wide back wrapped over his thigh, effectively shielding the ‘naked’ parts of him from view. He looks shy, but not uncomfortable; either like he’s done this before or he’s accustomed to protecting himself—to hiding.

The frame of his body is captivating; he looks strong but used, little nicks and scars littering his shoulders and hands. Weathered. As you make your way up his torso, you find it’s a similar state of experienced, tan profile and neck bearing the slightest difference in color from the soft of his side, and you can see the faintest curve of a hem-shaped tan-line across the dip in his shoulder. Little wisps of gray-dusted brown curls frame the edges of his face. He’s beautiful in a gentle way, with a dark, heavy brow that leads into the sharp slope of his nose, plush lips pursed like he’s concentrating.

Part of you feels bad about staring, but it’s easy enough to disguise it as working, so you map him with your gaze again and again until you can still see him when you blink. It takes the constant movement of your classmate’s hand sketching something in your periphery to remember you’re being timed.

You choke out a cough, repositioning your body and grabbing some charcoal.

The way you usually approach this task is simple: get down the general gist of the body, careful to keep out the details of the person in favor of capturing light and weight—there’s a graded challenge to be considered, after all.

Yet as you watch him, you decide you can fulfill the requirements in a way that gives him more room to exist. You crop the drawing tighter, paying careful attention to the landscape of his face; the hills of his cheekbones and the valley between his lips. You want to immortalize him.

You’re suddenly deeply concerned with the history that’s woven itself into the shape of him, in what happened to make him look this way. It seems like life has been useful to him, but that he’d had to grow from something to make it so—like he had to work for it. He’s the living manifestation of his own grief and enjoyment and passion, and you want to know all of it.

Countless minutes pass as you take him in and spill him out, fingers moving quickly to recreate the weighted feeling of his posture, exhausted and heavy, muscles held together on the string of bone that runs through the center of his back. You write him down, again and again, flipping to a new page half-way through to get in one last version of him—one for yourself.

You’ve never seen him before, but you see part of yourself in him. He mirrors the anxious peace you’ve been operating under for the last few years, humming with energy but willfully stagnant. It makes you feel seen, less burdened by your recent inability to connect—he makes you want to keep trying.

You wonder if he writes or draws or makes, and if he’d show you. You want to hear him talk. You want to see the other side of him, literally and metaphorically. You want to feel—

The tinny ring of the alarm sounds off, and you’re taken out of the fantasy.

The second drawing is only really half done, but you didn’t make it with the intention of sharing it anyway, so you flip back to the original to hide it..

You try not to watch the man when he stands—remembering that just because he’d been hidden before doesn't mean he wasn't naked the entire time—maybe more for your sake than his. You peek around the room instead, taking a healthy, albeit competitive, glance around for other interpretations of the man; did they see him too, the way you do?

When you look up to take a comparative look, he’s gone. You’re a little disappointed, admittedly, but there’s still one more chance to interact with him, and you can make up for it then. You start to pack up your things in an effort to make it to the parking lot before the crowd. A sudden rise in the volume level in the room tells you that the shock of the early morning has started to burn off. You try to tune it out, so much so that you don’t hear someone walking up behind you.

“Wow.” It’s a man’s voice, deep and smooth. You pivot in your seat.

It’s him, in all his communal-robe wearing glory, even more gorgeous from head on. It’s a pleasant surprise, this reveal; his beauty is evenly distributed, like a handwritten note that extends into the margins or when a movie’s ending is just as good as the start.

“Oh. Hi. Thank you.” You feel exposed, like you got caught doing something bad, even though there are ten other people in the room with even more detailed portraits of him.

“Can I see the other one, too?”

“What?”

“You flipped your page. I didn’t see anyone else do that. Did you make two?”

You just nod, shocked that he was watching you back, peeling back the paper to reveal to him the unfinished drawing. He won’t question it if you don’t give him a reason to.

“Are you gonna finish it?” He asks, eyes rolling over it with an intense curiosity.

“Uh, probably not. I don’t like it as much as the first one.” Maybe lying your way through this would provide better reasoning than ‘I wanted a part of you that no one else could see’.

“Can I have it?”

When you can’t find something to say fast enough, he just continues.

“I’m sorry, is that rude? If you’re just gonna get rid of it, I’ll take it. It just… looks like me. I mean they all do, I’ve been told I have a ‘simple face’,” He coughs awkwardly in acknowledgement of his own tangent, “I just mean to say that it feels a lot like me. If that makes sense.”

“You’re actually very visually interesting.” Is the first thing you can think of, and fuck, did that come out really fucking wrong, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Maybe it’s better if he takes it, if it’ll stop you from fumbling, “But yeah, you can have it.” You pull a little plastic mail-tube out of your bag, ripping the drawing free from its perforated tether and rolling it in on itself.

The edges of his mouth pull up, a cute little thing, free of laughter or judgement, “Thank you. I’m Joel.” One of his hands drapes across his stomach, palm spread over the knot of the wrap—he’s holding himself at length again. Why?

“Hi Joel. You seem to know a fair amount about this whole thing. Not your first time, then?” You offer him your name in return, and he parrots it back—guard still up, still standing too far away.

“It is, actually. The closest I’ve come to this is sitting in the yard for my daughter,” He watches as you slide the drawing into the cylindrical case, “You’re very talented.”

“Thank you.” It feels weird to hear the praise twice, “How’d they get you to pose for no money? I heard the department’s a little strapped. I’ve been subbing in for the undergrads too when I can.”

“My daughter volunteered me, she’s on the other side of the program. Your teacher was giving out extra credit.” He takes the roll when you pass it to him, going out of his way to grab it from the middle, his thumb grazing yours. Your skin heats up where he’s touched it, and you look down at the floor, suddenly nervous.

“Wow, this is the first time I’m hearing anything about that.” You continue to pack away items into your bag, “I’m owed quite a lot if that’s true.”

His face falls in on itself in a wince, “Oh. Didn’t mean to do her in like that.” You can feel him looking at you for a few beats too long, and his eyes narrow like he’s about to say more.

In the same moment, as if summoned, your professor turns on her heel, walking over to your bench.

“It’s okay. I’ll be okay without it. I’ll see you next week, right?”

He shakes a little, releasing his stare, and throws a thumbs up in your direction with his protective hand, “Yeah, see ya next week. Nice to meet you.”

───────

After another four-hour class and a too-long nap and a break for dinner, everyone from this morning joins together in a few cars to head to a bar downtown. You meet up with Ian, who offered to drive as a bargaining chip, because he knows by now that you’d back out if you had to show up on your own.

The bar is dark and divey and perfect for being overly-observant in secret. You’ve warmed up to this crowd enough, but you’re still on plus-one basis with a lot of them, Ian serving as your invitation. You like to just listen to them at first during these outings, strategically planning your involvement so you don’t feel put on the spot when they give you a turn.

It’s a lot like being in class; the group of you occupying a dimly lit corner, a round-table of bodies, with the person in the center alternating as the topic changes. Tonight you stay at the furthest end.

You cling to the single tequila soda you ordered, watery and flat by now with pea-sized ice chips bobbing around in the center to avoid the heat of your fingers. You watch them swim, tipping your cup to see them swirl in a frenzied circle until they disappear.

Some guy from your English class—Andre or Andrew or who cares—is talking at you, making his best attempt at what you think is supposed to be flirting. It’s really just him asking your opinions on his five favorite books, not hiding his disapproval when you mention you haven’t read one or the other.

You watch Ian, who left you twenty minutes ago in search of the bar-top for another drink. He’s caught now on his third conversation on the way back, maybe thinking he’s doing you a favor by taking his time. You try relentlessly to catch his eye instead, and he bounds over without question when he sees you. The glass of wine in his hand is already half empty, and the English-class-guy spooks at the sight of what he probably thinks is competition. So much for that.

“Having fun?” he prods when he slips in the chair beside you, already aware that you are absolutely very much not having fun.

Ian’s a nice guy, and he means well. You met him a week into your first semester—almost a year ago now—at orientation, because your last names were the beginning and end of the line of their respective letters. He was from somewhere in Canada, studying photography with a minor in painting and drawing. He’s maybe a year or two older than you, though you’ve never asked to confirm; tall and long and pretty, for lack of a better word, with big eyes and a permanent split in the little bangs that cover his forehead. He’s the first man in years you’ve been comfortable around, never initiating anything or pushing too hard for your friendship. All in all, no one’s been as welcoming to you, except the person you literally live with, and you’re happy to let him drag you out if it means he’ll continue to look after you the way he does.

“Of course, when have you ever known me to have a bad time?”

“No luck with Adrian?” Adrian. You were close.

“Just likes to hear himself talk, I think. I wasn’t interested in being an audience.”

He hums, “Someone else on your mind?”

“Like who?” You lean the lip of your cup against your mouth.

“Saw you making eyes at the model today,” He teases, nudging you in your rib when you take a sip of your drink so that you keel over slightly. You sputter, unamused with the tactic to get you to fess up.

Was it that obvious?

“Isn’t that the point of the class?”

“Yeah maybe, smartass, but that’s not what I meant. I saw him talking to you, saw you give him a little gift,” He bobs his eyebrows at you suggestively, “Excited for him to come back next week?”

“So I can stare more, you mean?”

“So you can get his number.”

“Ian.”

“I’m just saying you should try and find someone outside our section of the building. No writers, either, obviously.” He gestures to where Adrian is already trying his shtick on some girl from your class.

“He’s a little too old for me, don’t you think? His daughter goes here.” You muse. He’s mostly right about you needing to expand your reach, but you won’t let him off that easily.

“Maybe. But if you don’t care, and he doesn’t care, what’s it matter? He’s not too old to fuck you.” He makes a face and you roll your eyes.

The thought is nice, but you know forging relationships is unlikely when you’re concerned, at least as of late, “I don’t want to spend my night talking about people I’m not going to fuck.”

“Whatever you say.” He slinks out from his seat, mumbling something about a glass of water. A few steps away, he looks back over his shoulder, “You’re not doomed, by the way,” the asshole can read your mind, “You can enjoy yourself without feeling guilty. You’re allowed to like people.”

And then you’re alone again.

It’s like that for another hour, small attempts at chatter and meetings until you realize you’re too tired to fuck anyone, let alone continue to sit upright. Being up so early this morning took more of a toll than an hour nap could fix, and you're begging Ian to take you home. He agrees, spending the trip trying to plan another outing later in the week before everyone’s gone on vacation.

You give him a sleepy goodbye when he pulls into your apartment complex, making sure he’s still going to class tomorrow before letting him drive away. Once you’re inside, slipping quietly in through the front door, you realize your roommate isn’t home. She’s probably still in a late class or at her boyfriend’s or somewhere else. You enjoy the quiet enough to not think about it too hard.

The five sips of tequila-mostly-water has settled into your stomach by now, making you a quarter-second slower when you strip all your clothes off and climb into bed.

You twist under the sheets, and after a while your skin starts to feel too hot, even in the cold air of your room. Breathing deep, you try to think of something boring to get your mind to still, but when you sense the sleep about to take over, it switches.

You see his face behind your eyelids, the man from today, strong and pretty and delicate, remembering all your favorite details—the length of his fingers and the depth of his voice. You curse yourself for assigning this importance to him. He’s just another page in your portfolio, if you even keep him, yet you can feel a slow heat bubble up at your core when you remember the stretch of his body under the robe. It’s okay to be taken with him, you think, he’s objectively gorgeous.

Your conversation with Ian replays in your head—less about his sincere advice and more about how you need to get laid. It’s been too long; maybe you are just horny, and maybe taking care of it just this once could be enough to stop this hollow interest from growing.

You reach a hand down under your blanket, the tips of your digits pushing into the slit of your cunt. You’re wet, arousal tacky and pooled so much that the light pressure you meant to be exploring with is enough to have you accidentally slipping inside. Okay, he’s really hot. So what? Was it really that bad if you thought so?

You dip a finger further in, timid at first; you’re used to keeping quiet for this kind of activity, and even though your roommate was gone when you got here, it doesn’t mean she hadn’t come in in the thirty minutes of rolling around you’d done before giving into your desire. You lay your free hand over your mouth just in case, teeth biting into the meat at the base of your thumb to keep yourself quiet.

You slide in a second finger to the knuckle to join the first, the light stretch of it enough to make you pant. You see him again, hard and soft and beautiful. You think about what his skin would taste like, if he’d let you sink your teeth into the sinew of his neck. It feels weird to know what he looks like without his clothes, and you’re weirdly proud of yourself for holding back from seeing him fully; it's easier to dream about that way. You wonder how he’d present himself to you, how he’d want to fuck you. You imagine him winding a hand around the hinge of your jaw, fingers pressing hard into the soft of your cheeks. Would he be gentle? Would he make it hurt? You suspect either would be too much. You feverishly palm your clit, hips canting in an effort to climax. The pictures flash faster—his cock in your mouth, his tongue in your cunt, the way he’d spit and grip and hold—and you’re coming, drooling over your hand as you hear him say your name in your mind.

You take your hand away after a minute, breath pushing out heavily from your nose. It’s fine, you needed to do it, just one time. No shame in that. It’s out of your system now.

And if you see his face one more time before you fall asleep, it’s probably an afterthought.

───────

By the end of the week, you come to a horrible conclusion.

It starts the next morning when you take your sketchbook out, itching to get a handle on the many writing assignments you’ve been dutifully ignoring, hoping for an outline or a free-flow of ideas. Nothing comes to mind. You draw a little bit to fill the space while you think, just a mess of material on the page, strokes of your hand that leave barely anything behind.

Then on Wednesday you’re at your laptop, typing with one hand while the other one slides against the wood of the dining table, down and around in a loop, mimicking the same shape each time.

And again last night in the shower, letting the shame of a different semi-failed night-out wash over and off of you. You slosh your foot around in the water in the basin below, catching it as it runs down and pools, ankle dragging in a tiny, controlled movement.

It’s not until now that you put it together.

You’re sitting at your desk, with creative materials at your disposal this time, trying to make sense of what it is you’re forming. You find that no matter the medium, your hand automatically makes a single hard line. The same line, from memory. It’s negligible at first, just a light press of pen or pencil or crayon, until it drags down, down, down. It’s not until you lift your utensil that you recognize it. The hook of a nose and the crest of a top lip.

A hard pit forms in your stomach, blood draining from your head to gather in the center of your chest, a blooming sickness of obsession you haven’t felt in a long time. You’re drawing him. You’ve been drawing him. You know this feeling, have participated in this kind of behavior. These are the actions that cause the humiliating dregs of attraction to bleed over into fixation—juvenile and universal and unavoidable. He’s going to be a problem.

#joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #pedro pascal characters #joel miller fic #joel miller/reader

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nyasiaaaaa · 1 year

Text

In the Bleak-Mid Winter

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Fem reader (Nurse)

Summary: This is a story about two people who become constants in each others lives, and eventually fall for each. While one learns to love again, the other learns the cost of loving a man like him.

Word count: 5k

Warnings: Cursing, Tommy eating, Mr.Campbell, sexual harassment, reader eats, Thomas Shelby ( If I missed anything or you think something should be added please tell me.) ( Also Y/N is on dick, IDKY she acts like this)

A/N: part 1 takes place during season two, part 2/3 season 3 and 4/5/6 season 4. This is a Slow burn there will be smut eventually.

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

*******************************************

You heard the paramedics before you saw them; you were sitting at the nurse's station having a late dinner amongst the other nurses when they burst through the door shouting.

"Male, early thirties, beaten severely, Bp 80/60, in and out of consciousness"

You had rushed over and led them to the next available room in the ER; so you and the doctor may start your examination. The doctor surprisingly showed up with the emergency instead of half an hour later. The paramedics set the man down on the gurney and got out of your way, but not before calling the man lying in front of you by name and assuring him that he was in good hands.

'Wait" you yelled after the paramedic, making them stop and face you

"You know this man, your family … or friend," you asked as you prepared a bucket of warm water with soap.

"No, miss, he's not friend nor family; I just recognized him, is all." the paramedic responded with a tight smile.

"And his name," you asked cause you didn't catch it the first time he said it.

"Thomas"

You thanked the man before turning back to your patient. You started to wipe away the blood and mud that caked his face making him unrecognizable, to the point where you were confused about how that gentleman had recognized him.

You continued down his body, cleaning him up where need be so the doctor could assess and work properly. As you cleaned a nasty cut along his bruised ribs, he began to stir, and his eyes opened.

"Sir, hi, do you know your name," the doctor asked him as he flashed a light in and out of his eyes

The doctor waited, but the man didn't answer, that's when the doctor looked towards you for help.

You grab the mans hand, squeezing it, causing him to look in your direction; you smile gently at him before asking him, slowing.

"Sir, do you know your name"

"M- my my name," he whispered, out of breath

"Yes sir, do you know it" You squeezed his hand again, encouraging him along

"It's Thomas"

"Very good," you praised him

"My name is Thomas Shelby."

You froze right in your tracks, dropping his hand and stepping back. You heard the doctor praise him for getting it right before asking questions about his pain, medical history, and allergies.

The doctor waved his hand towards you, motioning towards you to write his responses down, but you didn't even acknowledge him. You couldn't even move.

Thomas Shelby, thee Thomas Shelby. The most dangerous man in Birmingham is lying on your table with his life in your hands.

It was starting to all make sense now, why the paramedics knew him but didn't associate himself with him, why the doctor had rushed over so quickly to care for him.

You then realize that If this man dies, then you die.

That was all you needed to hear; you grabbed your clipboard, pulled yourself together, and began to write down the things you heard. The doctor finished his assessment, and told Thomas he would come back shortly to take him to surgery, and he would have the nurse give him a couple of papers to sign while he waited.

You rearranged the papers on your clipboard, putting the ones he needed to sign in front, then grabbed an IV and Morphine bag to set up a line. You handed him the clipboard as you put the bags on the hanger and began to put gloves on.

"What that," he asked, his head nodding towards the two bags as he turned the pages signing each of them before looking at you directly in your eyes.

"I -i-its a-a mo-morphi-e dr-drip a-and an IV ba-bag.”

You might have spoken more clearly if he wasn't staring at you with those eyes. It wasn't like what you had thought. You always thought that if you ever looked this man in the eyes, it would be no different than looking at the devil himself, especially after all the stories you have heard and the people you've seen who have been sent to the hospital in body bags after their dealings with him.

You expected to see hundreds of souls trapped behind his eyes, but instead, you just see a man, nothing more, just a man.

"Your papers," Thomas said, handing you back your clipboard as he looked at you looking at him.

"T-Thank you," you replied, tearing away your gaze as you walked towards the end of his bed, placing the clipboard along the edge.

You then walked back up to him, took his arm, and searched for a vein before placing the IV.

You flashed him a smile before snatching your gloves off and waking out of the room for much-needed air.

You walked till you were out of his sight, then you pressed your back against the wall before sliding down it all the way and placing your head in between your knees.

You breathed in and held it before breathing out; you repeated this action four more times before you started to calm down. You sat there for a few more seconds before the doctor returned with more people to begin moving Thomas to surgery.

"You think you can scrub in, or do you need a minute," the doctor said to you, his voice laced with annoyance.

You nodded your head as you stood up and followed him. You ignored his comment toward you as you had understood that this man holds Thomas Shelby's life in his hands, and there is no room for him to fail.

When you came into the room, the other nurse had already started to change Thomas into a gown and put a net on his head. You went around the gurney and flipped the stoppers on the wheels so that you may move it when ready.

Soon he was all changed, and it was time to move. You had placed yourself at the head of the bed while the other two nurses stood at the side.

"Let's go," you said as the three of you began pushing Mr.Shelby down the hall toward the surgery wing.

As you walked down the hall, you tried your hardest to not look down, even though you felt eyes on you, burning you as they looked at you. You tried to keep your eyes straight, but you couldn't and decided to look down. And when you did, you saw his bright blue eyes staring right back at you.

His eyes are intense and chilling, yet you still stare at him as he stares at you. But his stare has more meaning behind it; he's looking at you curiously, even turning his head to, what you guess, is to get a look at your name tag.

You break away your eyes from his as you hit the doors to the surgical wing pushing them open. You push him toward his room before leaving to wash up for his surgery as the other nurses get him ready and into place.

After scrubbing up, you dry your hands before placing fresh gloves on them. And walking over to Mr.Shelby and sitting on a stool at his head.

"Ok, Mr.Shelby, we're about to start your surgery. Today you are having surgery on your liver and kidney, which both have ruptured. I'm going to place the mask on your face and have you count back from ten, ok," You say to him as you set up the oxygen and gas machine for him.

He nodded his head, and you processed to place the mask on his face and nodded towards him to begin counting backward.

"Ten, nine, eight, seven, six….."

You secured the mask before standing on the opposite side of the doctor.

The surgery took four hours when It was only meant to take two; most of the time, Doctor Brown was on his game, but today, You had assumed that it was because of who the patient was that he was nervous and stressed himself out. But that wasn't the case; he became sloppy, too sloppy, to the point where you had to take over, finish and close-up. And when you had gone over to his side to take over, you had smelled it, on his breath, Whiskey. You couldn't believe that he would take a drink before performing surgery on a patient. You m didn't say anything though and simply left it as if it was him being nervous that he held Thomas Shelby's life in his hands.

****************

The next time you saw Thomas awake was when you went into his room to check his vitals.

“ Good Morning Mr.Shebly; how are we doing today,” You asked as you garbed his wrist, checking his heart rate and writing it down before moving to check his blood pressure with the wrap.

“ Thomas and Fine”

“ Well, Mr.Shelby, that’s Great to hear; how’s your pain on a scale from one to ten,” you asked as you wrote down his blood pressure and moved on to check his IV and Morphine bag.

“ Thomas and 7”

“ Mkay, you can turn up your morphine drip with this dial “ You stopped taking to show him the action of the cord before continuing, “ And I see you haven’t eaten …….. Thomas.”

“ I can tell you know who I am, so you know that I can not eat any old food brought up by any old nurse.”

“ Well, I assure you the food isn’t poisoned.”

“ Please do; go ahead and have a bite.”

“ Sure,” You said with a smile as you reached down and grabbed the spoon before scooping up some mashed potatoes and bringing them to your lip.

You were about to take a bite when you thought about it; this is Thomas Shebly, Birmingham's very own gangster; he probably has a lot of enemies.

They could be in the hospital right now or were when they poisoned his food. You looked down at the spoon before looking over at him.

“ I will get you a new trey made by me personally,” You said as you gathered your things and the tray and headed for the door.

“ And how do I know I can trust you,” he asked with a straight face

“ Why would I save your life and perform surgery on you just to kill you a couple hours later.”

He responded with a nod in agreement

“ Oh, and Thomas, you a visitor a Mr.Campbell, shall I send him in”

“ Yes”

You let the door shut behind you as you walked down the hall, briefly stopping at Mr.Campbell to tell him that Thomas may see him now before going down the steps to the kitchen.

The closer you got to the basement, the louder it got, people, yelling, pans slamming against each other, and the smell of piss and bleach was so strong it made you gag and shiver.

The kitchen was the first door on the right. You entered and immediately regretted it. Two rather large men were in the kitchen; though you don’t come down here often, you know that you’ve never seen these men in this hospital anywhere and that they weren’t the chefs.

“ Can I help you miss?” the shorter of the two men asked

“ Um, a patient of mine didn’t receive his food, Ive come down to retrieve him some.” You replied, your eyes shifting between the two as you walked up to the window in the wall.

“ Which, uh…. I mean, what’s your patient's name” the taller one asked as he stood up from leaning against the wall.

“ W-why”

“ Standard procedure,” the taller one said to you, shrugging his shoulders as he stepped closer.

You thought for a second and came to the conclusion that you would instead give this strange man a name than pick a fight you most certainly can’t win.

“It's for Mr.Shelby, Thomas Shelby”

“ Ah, Mr.Shelby, ok, one meal coming right up,” The short one said as he turned to grab a plate and began putting food on it.

You tried to watch him carefully as he fixed the plate, but the taller man stepped in front of you, blocking your view and taking up the whole window.

He bent down to your eye level before he began talking.

“ What’s a pretty nurse like you doing down here? You don’t run food.”

His breath reeked of cigarettes and rum, making your face scrunch up in disgust before stepping back.

“ All the food runners were busy, and Mr.Shebly needed food; I don’t mind doing another job; I’m happy to help.”

You realized that now that you’re not as close, you can see more, not much, but you did see when the other man sprinkled something all over Thomas's food before giving everything a quick mix.

You look back only to catch the tall man looking at you, well, more like at your body, which you were very grateful for, seeing as you didn’t get caught.

“ Oi, here’s the food, miss,” The shorter man said, handing you the plate after the taller one moved out of the way.

“ Thank you,” you said before scarring off.

You dumped the food in the trash in the hall before jogging upstairs; you passed the nurse's station before turning right back around and reaching under the station table to grab your paper bag with your lunch.

Then you headed straight for Thomas's room. You opened the door and closed it behind you locking it.

You see Thomas sitting on the bed, struggling to bring his cigarette to his lips.

You walk over and place your bag on the bed before snatching it out of Thomas's hands and taking a hit of it yourself. You breathe in the cig and pace the floor several times before blowing it out.

“ What, what happened,” Thomas asked

“ Two men in the kitchen, they didn’t belong. I know that for a fact; one blocked my view as they fixed your plate, and I swear, I fuckin swear I saw him put something in it,” you said, looking at him before taking another long drag and putting the cig back in his hands.

You begin to pace again, not feeling yourself calm down despite taking a couple of drags of the cig; you still don’t know why people smoke them things.

“ And,” Thomas began as he pressed his lips to the cig before taking a long drag and breathing it out, “ Where is the food now.”

“ I threw it out, of course; I’m not gonna get blamed for making a hit on Thomas Shelby,” you said, throwing your hands up as you looked at him with your head cocked to the side, confusion written all over your face.

Thomas took another long drag before saying, “ Welp, problem solved.”

“ H-how can you be so cool about this? They tried to kill you.”

“ Darlin, I’m in here cause someone tried to kill me, it's not the first, and it's not the last time,” he said before taking one last drag and putting the cig out.

He looked at you momentarily before tilting his head and pointing toward the brown bag at the edge of his bed.

“ Oh, since we can’t trust the food, I’ve brought you my lunch, which we know is not poisoned. And before you decline, you going to be needing your strength. I’m assuming that you will be cutting your time here short.” You said as you took the food out of the bag and walked over to the stove in the room.

“It's soup, so I must heat it; while it's heating, I’ll pack a goody bag of bandages and cleaning wipe, some morphine too; when do you think you’ll be out of here.” You asked as you filled the pot with the soup before placing it on the burner and turning it on.

“ I’ll be out by tonight.”

Your head snapped over to look at him

“ What,” he asked

“It's just too far too soon for a man with injuries like yours to be traveling

on foot, are you going far”

“ Far enough”

“ I’ll help you to where ever you are going,” you said, walking back over to his bed.

“ And why should I trust you.”

“ Well, let’s see, I just saved your life, and like you said, Mr.Shebly, I know who you are and what you do. And I’ve decided that I’d rather have you as a friend than an enemy,” You said before walking over to the door, unlocking it, stepping out, shutting it behind you, and locking it again.

You then heading off to collect supplies.

By the time you got back, the soup was ready, and you poured it back into the bowl and brought it over to Thomas, who tried to sit up but was too weak and fell back into the bed. You quicken your pace to him and set the bowl on the table before helping him sit up.

“ Slow down; you mustn’t tear your stitches,” You told him, placing pillows behind his back and helping him sit up.

He reaches for the soup but winches again in pain, he tries again, but you slap his hand.

“ Let me, “ you said as you picked up the bowl from the table

“ No, I can feed myself. “

“ Obviously not, now open wide,” you say as you dip the spoon in the bowl and hold it to his lips.

He just looks at you with a straight face; you drop the spoon back into the bowl.

“ I’m sorry,” you say with a light laugh, “ but please, you need to eat” You bring the spoon out of the bowl again before placing it into his mouth.

You stay silent as he eats, repeating your actions over and over again. Bringing the spoon down to the bowl and scooping up some soup before bringing it to his lip. You do this while looking up, down, at the soup, and then at him, all while his eyes stay on you.

Soon you are on your last spoonful of soup, and you accidentally cause some soup to run down his lip as you had pulled it out too soon. You immediately grab a napkin bringing it up to his chin.

“ Sorry, I-“ he cuts you off, grabbing your writs, stopping it mid-air, looking you right in your eyes.

“ I’ve got it,” he said as he grabbed the napkin from your hands before wiping his chin, then licked his lips.

Your eyes trail down his face onto his body, slowly as you study every part of him, taking your time before returning to his face. And still, his eyes are on you, lookin' at you as you look at him.

“ Do you want to fuck” he asked

You panicked

“What? No, I was just c-checking on your body like, umm, you cut and bruises to make sure everything looked good,” you said while standing up, taking the bowl with you, and placing it back in your brown sack.

“ Well…. Um, you leave tonight. I will be back to help you get dressed after my shift. We can go; I, uh, have other patients to check on, so I’ll be back then, and I’ll keep the door locked, ok.” You say, keeping your eyes on the ground as you collect your things and made haste towards the door. You quickly open the door shutting it and locking it before leaning against it.

This is Thomas Shelby, a cold-hearted killer, you tried to convince yourself. But man is that man easy on the eyes. You blow out a puff of air before placing your things back under the table at the nurse's station and walking off to check on your other patients.

**************

You finished your work quickly and got off earlier than anticipated; it was around 10 when you headed towards Thomas Way.

You unlocked his room and entered; you didn’t bother turning on some light; the moon provided enough light, and you were trying not to draw attention to yourselves.

You slowly walked over to him; he was sleeping on his back; you got up close to him before whispering.

“ Thomas…… Thomas wakes up” You reached down towards him to shake him a bit “ Thom-“

He reached up and grabbed your wrist, but unlike last time, it wasn’t gentle. You struggled to free your hand from his grip as you pulled back while he looked at you, confused.

“ Thomas, it's me, please” You let a cry slip as you tried to get him to understand. It was clear that Thomas wasn’t all the way there.

“ Thomas,” you said a bit louder, causing him to let go of your wrist.

He shook his head and looked down before looking back up at you and your wrist, which you now cradled in your other hand

“ I-Im so-“ You cut him off before he finished

“It's fine, come on, sit up,” you said as you grabbed his shoulder, guiding him the way you wanted him to sit.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed before you walked towards the back room to gather his clothes and walked back.

You placed his top on the bed before getting on your knees to put his socks and pants on. This time you heard no complaint from him as you helped him. After you put on his socks, you scrunched up his pants legs before putting them around his ankles.

You then pulled them up to his thighs as far as they would go before clearing your throat. He then stood up, and you stood up with him slowly pulling the pants up as you went. He almost fell when he stood tall, catching himself before he did so using your shoulder to balance himself.

You pulled the pants to his waist, tugging a bit before zipping them up and buttoning them. You keep your head down, even though you want to look up; you feel his eyes on you, looking down at you. His whole body towering over you. It was equally as inviting as it was intimidating.

He moved his hand slowly down your arm

to your wrist. He took it into his hands and brushed over it softly.

“ I’m sorry.”

His words made you look up at him

“It’s fine.”

He drops your wrist, and you reach down and pick up his shirt, bunching it up in your hands as you stand on your tippy toes to place it over his head.

He bent down to help you carefully slip his arm into his shirt before pulling it down and tucking it into his pants. You then click his suspender into place before slipping them over his shoulder.

After you get back on your knees, place his shoes on his feet and tie them. When you finished, you helped him put his coat on. You grab the rest of the things you packed for him and place them in a bag before tucking them in his coat.Lastly, you grab his hat, place it on his head, pulling it down to cover his face more.

“ Ok, so we’ll stop at the nurse station so I can grab my thing, then we’ll head towards the back of the hospital to leave; that way, no one will see you,” You say as you start walking towards the door.

You walk out the door and towards the station, grabbing your coat, placing it on, then your purse, before walking to the backend of the hospital.

You grab Thomas's hand, pulling him closer as you begin to approach the final long stretch of hallway.

“ I have to keep you close so people will assume we’re together.” You say

“ Why,” he asks

“ Cause …….. “ you trail off, “this part of the hospital is where people bring others to have…… a good time. That’s why it's the perfect place to leave. There’s no security and no one’s concerned with who comes and goes.”

“ Ah, so you do what to fuck”

You immediately stop in track and face him,

“I do not Im trying to “ You stop mid-sentence when you see a slight smile on his face. He’s joking, trying to ease the heavy tension between you two.

You grab his hand again, pulling him along the rest of the way, ignoring the people in your peripheral who are getting to know each other. You finally get to the door pushing it open and are greeted with a rush of cold air.

You and Thomas step out of the hospital into the south parking lot, which is entirely empty. You look at Thomas, waiting for him to lead the way; he wraps his arm around you, placing some of his weight on you as he starts walking.

“ Is it far where we’re going?” you ask, looking up at your breath dancing in the air.

“ No, not far, 30 minutes at most”

Besides the occasional whine from Thomas, the rest of your walk is quiet. As you near your destination, or you assumed cause, Thomas asks you, “ You live near here or far? If so, I’ll have one of my men walk you home.”

“ Oh, now I have peaky protection; this friendship is starting off better than I thought. But yeah, I live close no need for a chaperone, though. I’ve lived in Birmingham all my life. I know how to take care of myself.”

And that’s the end of that conversation; soon, you approach some gates to a well-known boatyard.

“ We’ve arrived,” you asked

“ We have; I can make it from here,” he says, and you let him go

“ Very well, Thomas, till next time, bye.”

He nods his head towards you and says your name before walking away. Your heart skips a beat never having heard him say your name till now, and you never told him. You can only assume that he read your name tag at some point. You flash him a smile before walking home.

Since you got home late that night, you didn’t have to sneak in to avoid your landlord. You were a couple of weeks behind on rent, the hospital didn’t pay well, and these apartments were a bit out of your reach, but they were the only ones that were halfway decent and not rat infested.

The next couple of days, you continued to work double shifts so you could make enough money from rent. Every day, people asked you if you were ok, you had been forgetting to complete things and messing small tasks up.

This was unlike you, but every time you let yourself think, your mind would drift off to Thomas. You kept rethinking every moment you were together, replaying every moment like it was a scene from a movie.

Eventually, you were told to take the rest of the day off; people assumed you were too tired to concrete, seeing that you had worked doubles for the last three days. You didn’t protest because you had to admit you were pretty tired.

When you arrived home, you wished you had fought the people at the hospital a little more.

As soon as you walked into your building, you ran into your landlord, who was collecting his mail from his box.

“ Sir, good afternoon. I don’t have your money now, but soon, I will have it in full soon, and I shall give it to you no later than next week.”

His body wasn’t facing you, and he didn’t answer you, so you reached out and touched his shoulder.

“ Sir ?”

“ Huh, oh, it's you; I hope you weren’t talking to me; I don’t mean to be rude. My ears haven’t been working the best of late.”

He was talking, but you weren’t really paying attention; he had some nasty fresh bruises on his face, cuts above his eyes, swollen eyes, and a busted leaking lip that he kept bringing a towel up to dab.

“ Sir, what happened? And I said I will have my rent to you by next week.”

“ Oh no, I’m fine, just some bumps and bruises, and no need to have the rent to me; from now on, you live here for free,” he said and started to walk off.

“ But sir, wait, I don’t understand why,” you asked, yelling after him

“ What was it that them peaky boys had said” Your eyes immediately widened; you had caused this. “Oh yeah, the rent for the girl is free, or the house burns down.”

You were about to apologize, but he had already returned to his apartment. You stood there for a good minute before heading upstairs and fixing some tea and food.

You sat down and ate your snack, staring at the wall as you sipped your tea. Then you laughed and kept laughing; your landlord was a horrible man who once tried to get you to offer sex as payment, and by getting, he locked you out of your apartment until you had his rent, you had only been a day late when he did it, and it took you a week to get his money. You had to sneak into your apartment through the window every night and leave out the same way every morning.

He got what was coming for him, with his crazy rent prices like we live in the city.

You smiled; this becoming friends thing with Thomas was already working for you. You had hoped that, that wasn’t the last time you saw Thomas.

And it wasn’t.

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