#WE CANNOT FORGET ABOUT MARK'S

[lazy-ahh]

I DONT MEAN TO REQUEST SO MUCH STUFF IM SORRY but i’m thinkingggg. mark with a reader who works out and is muscular (maybe a little beefier than him) i wanna see him drooling though it can be mainstream or mohawk i think of them similarly

BUILD TO HOLD

pairing mark grayson x male reader

mark swears he’s strong—until you pin him to the mat with ease, muscles flexing under your shirt, and suddenly he doesn’t mind losing. not when it means getting this close.

taglist @hhoneylemon , @queermaeda , @yujensstuff , @thebatsgreatestfailure , @roryroro , @cynvia

you’re sparring with him again. and mark’s losing. bad.

it’s not that he’s not trying—he is, he swears—but you’re just so damn strong. your muscles flex under your tight workout shirt, the fabric straining over your broad shoulders, the defined curve of your biceps, the way your chest heaves with every controlled breath. every time you block his punch, he catches a glimpse of your abs tightening beneath the damp material, and god, it’s distracting. you shove him back with a grin that’s all teeth and no mercy, your biceps bulging, veins popping along your forearms as you effortlessly overpower him. he stumbles, catching himself before he faceplants onto the mat, and you laugh—rough around the edges, a little mean, and it makes his stomach flip. his face burns, and he can’t tell if it’s from exertion or the way your sweat-slicked skin glows under the headquarters' gym lights, your body moving with a lethal grace that leaves him breathless for all the wrong reasons.

"c’mon, markus," you taunt, rolling your shoulders. "thought you were supposed to be-"

he huffs, wiping sweat off his brow, his eyes dragging helplessly over the way your shirt clings to your torso, the fabric stretched tight across your chest, the outline of your abs just visible beneath it. "shut up," he mutters, but it comes out weak, his throat dry.

you don’t. instead, you lunge, grabbing him by the waist—god, you were so much more muscular than him—and flipping him onto his back before he can even blink. the air rushes out of his lungs as he hits the mat, and then you’re straddling him, pinning his wrists above his head like it’s nothing. your thighs squeeze his hips, thick and powerful, and mark’s brain short-circuits, his pulse hammering in his ears. fuck. you’re heavy in the best way, all solid muscle and heat, and he can feel every shift of your weight, every flex of your quads as you keep him trapped beneath you.

"y’know," you murmur, leaning down, your biceps bulging as you hold him in place, "for a guy who can fly, you’re pretty easy to take down."

he should be offended. he should be scrambling to get you off. but all he can focus on is the way your biceps strain against your sleeves, the veins in your arms standing out as you tighten your grip. your chest presses against his when you shift, and christ, he can feel the hard planes of your body even through the fabric, the heat of your skin searing into him. your breath is hot against his lips, smelling faintly of mint and something dangerous, and mark’s pretty sure he’s gonna pass out—or do something really stupid, like arch up into you just to feel more of that crushing strength.

"you’re such an asshole," he breathes, but there’s no bite to it—just a shaky exhale, his pulse hammering in his throat.

you smirk, rolling your shoulders, the fabric of your shirt pulling obscenely tight across your chest. "you love it."

and god, he really, really does.

it wasn’t always like this. a year ago, you were strong—superpowers and all—but leaner, built for speed, not raw power. then you decided you wanted to look like a hero, too, and mark had to watch, helpless, as you transformed. those early mornings in the gym, sweat dripping down your neck while you grunted through deadlifts, the way your arms flexed when you adjusted your grip on the barbell. he’d pretend not to stare, but fuck, it was impossible. the first time you came back from a workout with your shirt clinging to your abs, veins snaking up your forearms, mark nearly short-circuited.

now? now you’re a nightmare—in the best way. every time you move, he notices. the way your thighs strain against your shorts when you shift your stance, the thick curve of your biceps when you cross your arms, the deep v of your hips leading down to—shit. his mouth goes dry.

you tilt your head, catching his gaze lingering, and your smirk widens. you know. heat floods his face, but he can’t stop imagining it—your hands pinning him down, your body crushing him into the mat, the way your muscles would ripple as you—

"mark." your voice is low, teasing, curling around his name like smoke. your lips tilt into that smirk of yours—the one that’s half amusement, half challenge, all sharp edges and knowing glints. sweat beads at your temple, your chest still rising and falling from the fight, and your eyes lock onto his with that same unshakable confidence. "you’re staring."

he swallows hard. yeah. yeah, he is. "can you blame me?" he mutters, voice rough, before he can stop himself. his face burns the second the words leave his mouth, but he doesn’t take them back. can’t, not when you’re looking at him like that, like you already knew exactly what he was thinking.

"well, i think that's enough training for today," you say, pushing yourself up with effortless grace. your muscles flex as you roll your shoulders, dusting off your hands before extending one toward him, palm up. your fingers are still slightly curled from the fight, knuckles faintly reddened, and your grin widens just a fraction—like you’re enjoying this, like you��live for the way his breath hitches when you loom over him. "wouldn't want you to get yourself actually hurt from being... too distracted."

"i—shut up," he grumbles, but he takes your hand anyway, letting you haul him up with embarrassing ease. your grip is firm, calloused from years of fighting (you were a hero for far longer than him, having to tend to you and cheer you up as kids when you'd visit him and crumble about the expectations that the world is crushing you with), and he tries (fails) not to linger on the warmth of your skin against his. god, you’re ridiculous. strong enough to throw him across the mat without breaking a sweat, but your smile—sharp, crooked, always like you’re in on some joke he doesn’t get—that’s what really ruins him.

and you know it, too.

a memory flickers in the back of his mind—both of you as kids, sticks for swords and bed sheets tied around your necks like capes. you’d always played the hero, the reckless one who’d dive headfirst into trouble just to pull his ass out of it. "c’mon, mark," you’d grin, bloody-kneed and bright-eyed, "i got you."

some things never change.

except the roles are swapped now.

mark’s the reckless one who’s diving in front of you, shielding you from the villain’s energy blast with a grunt. the impact sends him stumbling back into you, but your arm is already around his waist, steadying him before he even hits the ground. the two of you are bruised and battered, having spent the last twenty minutes evacuating civilians while trading blows with the bastard—him taking the hits you couldn’t dodge, you covering his blind spots like second nature. it’s effortless, the way you move together. no hesitation, no missteps. just the silent understanding of two people who’ve been fighting side by side since they were kids pretending to save the world in their backyards.

you’d always had each other’s backs—when bullies tried to corner him after school, when you were both drowning in the mess of teenage hormones and high school hell, and now, here, in the middle of a battlefield where the air smells like smoke and the pavement’s cracked under your boots. some things never change.

"don’t worry," mark forces out, his voice rough as he smiles down at you in that dorky way you’ve always loved—the same one he’d give you when he’d scrape his knee as a kid and pretend it didn’t hurt. "i got you."

you laugh—bright and startled, like you can’t believe he’s pulling this shit now, of all times—and shove him sideways just as another blast sears past where his head had been. "you’re such an idiot," you wheeze, but your grin is wide, wild, alive. "we’re gonna die because you’re trying to be chivalrous."

"worth it," he shoots back, breathless, and when your shoulder bumps against his, it feels like home.

the villain snarls something unintelligible from across the ruined street, charging up another blast, but neither of you flinch. you don't need to. you already know mark's moving left before he does, just like he knows you're reaching for the discarded pipe at your feet without looking.

your fingers close around cold metal at the same moment mark feints right, drawing fire. "missed me," he taunts, rolling behind overturned concrete as the blast scorches the air where he'd been standing half a second ago. you're already moving, using the distraction to flank—just like when you were kids playing tag in the woods, when he'd bait the neighborhood bullies into chasing him so you could pelt them with rocks and pebbles from the trees.

the pipe connects with the villain's ribs with a satisfying crack, but they backhand you with their gun hard enough to make your teeth rattle. you barely register the pain before mark's there, catching your elbow to steady you while simultaneously kicking out the villain's knee. "still fight like you're twelve," you gasp out, spitting blood but grinning as you regain your footing.

"you really think i'm the only one?" he retorts, and goddamnit, he's right. the villain staggers up, furious, but you're already moving together—mark vaults onto your interlaced hands without needing to ask, and you launch him forward like it's second nature. his boot connects with their jaw at the same moment your pipe swings low, sweeping their legs out. they go down hard.

for a heartbeat, there's just silence and the sound of your ragged breathing. then mark's hand finds yours, squeezing once—a wordless check-in, just like when you were kids hiding in his room after a scrap, pressing ice packs to each other's bruises. one of his goggles is shattered, the cracked lens revealing a warm brown eye that's soft in a way only you ever get to see. his gaze flicks over you—the way your torn shirt clings to your heaving chest, the definition of your arms still tense from the fight, the stubborn set of your jaw even now—and something unbearably fond twists in his expression. "told you i got your back," he murmurs, thumb brushing over your scraped knuckles with a tenderness that belies the blood smeared across both of you.

you knock your forehead gently against his shoulder, laughing despite the ache in your ribs. "never doubted you, dumbass." above you, the first responders finally arrive, sirens wailing, but for this moment—sweaty, bleeding, exhausted—it's just the two of you again. his arm slides around your waist automatically, taking your weight as easily as he did when you were teenagers sneaking in through his window after curfew. the world could be ending around you, but it wouldn't matter. not when you're standing together like this, like you always have, like you always will.

hahahah see what i did there with the title card? bro i've always wanted to do that but worried it might ruin the immersion for my more serious one-shots. so today i finally said fuck it! no angst here anyway, so why not? hope you enjoyed this 1.8k words of pure fun—i definitely had a blast writing it lol. special thanks to you for requesting this, honey (heheh) <33 and can we talk about how i totally pictured jason todd's ridiculous physique for reader? like... have you seen that man? the arms? the shoulders? the pecs? the abs? the waist? the thighs?? god help me-

[twiggyrogue]

If it wasn't for the TMAGP ARG snippets I probably wouldn't be as obsessed about Sam but oh my goddd with what tiny we know about him I'm not over it. He's got a canon birthday (!!! He's 33 at the start of the show! It's p cool to know that tbh!) so we know when the Institute burned down, he was 9 year old. So at nine, maximum, he went through the Institute's child experiment. That's age he went through potentially a version of the Milgrim experiment! Mr. Spider whom, this child might have actively tortured someone because he was told to?? And that's probably the terrible event that was brought up in the interview but maybe it wasn't! Maybe it's something worse!! Oh no!!!

The guy scored the highest in empathy in the entire test group at 98% and now his job is experiencing other people's horrors like of course he can't help but look into them, of course he can't help but internalize them when Alice has warned him of what can happen, I'm so worried about this man!!!

[ourceliumnetwork]

never doubt the power of the OBX Gender Euphoria Hoodie of Swagness: it doesn't eliminate the sensory issues i've got from the tape on the electrodes but it sure does make me feel less like i want to tear every inch of skin off 10/10 can recommend.

[pennyellee]

𝐀𝐍𝐔𝐁𝐈𝐒

𝐀𝐍𝐔𝐁𝐈𝐒 | 𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐉𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐅𝐈𝐀 𝐀𝐔 pairings: yandere mafia namjoon x barmaid f!reader genre: dark romance, smut, slight porn with plot, 90s word count: 19,7K beta read by @chaoticpuff17 (ily)

masterlist

summary: “You are something I can sin for” An anchor amidst the stormy seas of life — that’s what Namjoon is for you. But it wasn’t always like that. There was a time where you’ve resented Namjoon with every fibre of your being and every word that came out of his plump lips after what he had done to prove his power. Unfortunately, you will never know what life could be if Kim Namjoon was not in it.

warnings: minors dni 18+ | sexual tension, emotional distress, teasing, yandere behaviour, obsessive behaviour, manipulation, reader meets namjoon when she was young - nothing happenes until she's of age, forced engagement, kidnapping, graphic violence, death, murder, blood, explicit language, misogyny, mentions of feminism, alcohol usage, mentions of religion and God, church smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, oppa-kink and so on (i'll add some if i'll forget)

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain strong language, explicit content, obsessive behaviour, alcohol drinking, illegal activities, oppressiveness, which we do not condone.

a/n: So here we are! This is the story I've been thrilled to share as it unfolds almost simultaneously with Champagne Confetti. Y/N, alias Peaches, is my baby, and I cannot wait to write more for her and Namjoon after my current project wraps up, wink wink. I have drafts for other fics set in the same universe as my current work and the new one, Anubis. Step by step, my fairies ♥

I hope you will enjoy reading this piece I've kept to myself for a long time. The best thing about writing is that I get to build this world of imagination and live in it for months before it gets to you. Sooo, I'm very nervous and excited to push Anubis out as a second fic within this universe— which now I have decided is going to be called — 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝟏𝟗𝟗𝟔. Without further ado, enjoy, fairies! ♥

1996

There's a soft whisper in your bones, each time you wake up in the morning. As your eyes flutter open, the room is dimly lit, shadows dancing on the ceiling. All your demons are staring at you from above. They have been there when you went to sleep, and they are still there when you wake up. You know them all too well—regrets, doubts, fears—they've become familiar companions in the lonely hours of the night. They whisper tales of your failures, amplifying every mistake, every misstep, until they echo like thunder in your mind.

But would it be any different if your steps turned the other direction? Would the cosmos allow you to be? Possibly. You, however, will never know what life would be without blood flowing down the stream, dirty money from all the sins you've watched being committed.

You will never know what life could be if Kim Namjoon was not in it. But the thought is fleeting, for you know deep down that he is as much a part of your story as the demons that haunt you. His presence has shaped you in ways both profound and subtle, leaving an indelible mark on your soul and your body. The agonising pain within still remains and all you can think of is how did you get to this point in your story.

"Bitches come and go, Peaches—" you recalled those words like it was yesterday they were uttered.

"—but you and him, love, you be for life."

An anchor amidst the stormy seas of life — that's what Namjoon is for you. But it wasn't always like that. There was a time when you resented Namjoon and every word that came out of his plump lips.

Kim Namjoon was trouble and the whole Bronx knew so. Heck, even the whole state knew what kin he came from. You were no exception. But whatever you did, you never managed to put distance between you two.

The world seemed both infinitely vast and impossibly small when the streets of the Bronx were your stage. You were young when you met Namjoon, a whirlwind of youthful energy and reckless abandon, there he is, so vivid in your memories.

Every time you'd help around Anubis, you could see his straying eyes. He had an aura of mischief that drew you in like a moth to a flame. You remember the way his gaze lingered on your skin, straying from the task at hand to fixate on you with a mixture of fascination.

Namjoon's reputation preceded him like a shadow cast by the noonday sun. Entirely impossible to overlook, yet you did. His name was whispered in hushed tones in the back alleys and dark corners where his influence held sway, and that was only the beginning. The magnitude he reached decades later is for another story.

You had heard the rumors—the tales of his involvement with the local gangs, the whispers of his connections to the underworld that lurked beneath the surface of the city. Certainly, you would have to be lying if you said that Anubis was completely legal. You were not that stupid. While it bore the façade of a legitimate establishment, its roots ran deep into the murky waters of the criminal underworld.

Mrs. Jung could smile as widely as she wanted and reassure you that all was fine and all was taken care of, but you couldn't ignore the whispers that circulated about Anubis. Yet she paid triple what you could get in any regular bar. Not like you could work at a regular bar at the time at your age. Survival often depended on turning a blind eye to the unsavory realities of life that you would never be able to face alone. Money was tight and you could not afford to lose such a good-paying job. Even if it took what it took.

"His eyes are hungry for you, Peaches—" said Mrs. Jung while toying with the little umbrella that was swimming in her Kamasutra drink you'd prepared just a few minutes ago. You envisioned your life in the city just like she had, Saint Laurent heels clicking loudly as you would walk down the streets of Manhattan. You admired your lady boss from her head to toes. Mrs. Jung was a symbol of pussy and power. Until she was not. The power was given to her and once she rejected to meet the expectations, it was taken from her.

"—But that's all he can do, at least for now."

She winked your way and then her attention turned to the approaching male figure. What she meant by that is loud and clear. You are underaged and Namjoon cannot make any move on you even if he wanted to. And you knew he respects you that much. Although something tells you that this would be the least illegal thing he would’ve committed.

You’ve met Mark Tuan on occasion when he stopped by the bar. She was not Mrs Jung at the time, yet the notorious life of your lady boss, confused you even then. The way she and Mr Jung behaved around each other gave you the impression that he is her lover and not the tattooed boy that fucked the brains out of her in the office upstairs.

You felt the pain that was reflected on Jung Hoseok’s face when he asked where is she and you had to answer truthfully. The only thing you knew about Namjoon was that he and the Jungs ran way back. Their primary, and to the upper world’s eye, legal assets were the distilleries that distribute whiskey and brandy which you were serving each night till early hours of the morning.

The moment he particularly chose to visit the bar only those evenings you’ve been around was a louder hint shouted your way. As if you haven’t already figured. There was something intoxicating about the way he moved through the world and the way he moved you once your eyes locked.

The way he spoke to you, listened to you so attentively, gave advice on occasion and provided a shoulder to lean on, was all pulling you to him even more. It made you forget about all the skeletons that were in his closet.

The air crackled with anticipation as he walked through the room each night, straight to you, his gaze fixing on you with a mixture of fascination and desire. But amidst the heat of the moment, there was a shadow of doubt that lingered in the back of your mind.

Mrs. Jung's sudden disappearance, Namjoon taking over the day-to-day operations of Anubis—it all seemed too convenient, too perfect to be mere coincidence. It gave him the opportunity to watch you, keep you safe. You were scared that he'd cut you off whenever you fucked up something. But he never did; rather the opposite, offering you a lifeline when you needed it most. There was a chemistry between you that defied explanation, a silent understanding that transcended words.

The way his muscular torso almost pressed against yours in the storage room took your breath away instantly. The faint scent of his cologne enveloped you as he leaned in closer, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. Surrounded by crates and boxes of expensive alcoholic beverages, the world seemed to fade away. His hand brushed against yours while he was lifting it, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through your veins as you met his gaze. Reaching above your head to envelop his slender fingers around the throat of the bottle that you could not reach before, he slowly moved closer to hover above your lips. You trembled under his gaze on your lips that were slightly parted; you were panting at this point, reminding you of the dangers that lurked beneath the surface of your forbidden romance.

"Just a moment longer."

His voice was a low murmur, a seductive whisper that sent a thrill racing through your veins. Despite the warning bells that rang in the recesses of your mind, you couldn't deny the pull he had over you, the magnetic attraction that drew you closer with each passing moment, his presence overwhelming in the confined space of the storage room. You knew that this was wrong, and yet, as his breath ghosted over your skin, you couldn't bring yourself to pull away.

You would never deny it, but you could not accept it and return his affections the way he wished you would. This was temporary. You never planned to stay in Anubis for longer than needed. It was not where you belonged, and the criminal underbelly of the Bronx was not the life you had envisioned for yourself.

You could not understand what made him stay away from you for such a long time. But it certainly created an opening for you to re-think your next steps.

Somehow, being twenty-one did make you feel the anticipation of living a life. Almost twenty-two when you graduated from college that could be paid as your earnings in Anubis allowed so. Slowly, your little life in the farthest corner of Bronx would come to an end and you could move into the city. Get a job, maybe even a man and kids later. You wanted that white-picket-fence life and you knew that if you wanted to live it peacefully, staying here was not an option.

Your father was strongly against you leaving even though he never approved of the life you led in the dark of nights. He was not a saint either, his hands stained with the same sins that plagued the streets of the Bronx. There was no man in the whole New York City that would not know the name Kim Namjoon and your father was not an exception. Although, you never had the courage to mention his name and acknowledge that the man your father praises when he drinks his beer and plays poker with his drunkard old pals, is spending his evenings talking to you.

"I tell ya all, that Namjoon boy has got a head on his shoulders like no other," your father's voice boomed across the small kitchen.

"A real businessman, that one," a flicker of unease stirring in the pit of your stomach as you caught sight of the familiar glint of admiration in your step-father's eyes. Namjoon's name hung in the air between you, a silent reminder of the bond that had formed between you in the shadows of Anubis.

"I wouldn't be surprised if he ended up running this whole city someday, right, Peaches?" You forced a smile, a wave of uncertainty washing over you as you considered the implications of your father's words. Namjoon's ambitions were as vast as the city itself, his influence reaching far beyond the confines of Anubis and the criminal underworld it symbolized.

"That's Mr. Jung's place, dad," you shook your head disapprovingly but with a smile on your face. His comrades laughed and shared similar ideas as he did though.

"That would be a boy for your Peaches," one of his comrades chuckled, the sound echoing off the walls of the cramped kitchen as they continued to sing Namjoon's praises after you only silently smiled again and opted not to respond. Your father however scoffed. He praised him, yes. But would he approve of his only child being with such a man like Namjoon is?

"When are you leaving for the city, young Missy?" Old man whose name you've never known asked with a cigarette in his mouth, looking over his cards rather than your way.

"Don't even support her in that big apple bullshit." You felt a pang of disappointment at his lack of support, but you were not surprised. You glanced around the kitchen, meeting the eyes of the men gathered there, each one offering their own opinion on your future. Some nodded in agreement with your step-father, while others remained silent, their expressions unreadable.

"Don't listen to those old men, child—"

"You got dreams, girl. Don't let nobody hold you back from chasing 'em.”

Truth to be told. The job, white fence, man and kids were not your dreams. You did not really know what to dream of, being restricted in such a dark part of the world that Bronx was for many, you did not even know why you hate your home like that. And you certainly weren’t even sure what is it to have a dream. But you hoped you’ll create some once you step your foot down, somewhere else than here. It doesn’t have to be Manhattan in particular. Anywhere but here is fine.

"Peaches, love, be sweet and bring us another beer from the fridge on your way to work, would ya?"

The request snapped you out of your thoughts, bringing you back to the present moment. With a nod, you forced a smile, hiding the turmoil within as you moved to comply with his request. You were sure you'd be late to your shift at Anubis yet again, but you knew that Namjoon would turn a blind eye. He always did when it came to you.

But Namjoon was not present the moment you stepped into Anubis that night. As you made your way through the dimly lit interior of Anubis, a sense of foreboding settled over you like a heavy blanket. The usual hustle and bustle of the bar seemed muted, the air thick with tension as you approached the bar.

Mrs. Jung was still nowhere to be found and therefore, for a few months, Namjoon had replaced her. But tonight he was not here. He usually came around ten p.m. and stayed until you cleaned the very last table and closed the bar.

Taking a deep breath, you squared your shoulders and set about your duties, determined to carry on despite the growing sense of unease that lingered in the air. But as the night wore on, the feeling of dread only intensified, leaving you on edge as you awaited Namjoon's return.

You watched the sun rising through the large windows that let the light come into the bar that was still beaming with a significant number of people of various ages. Despite your efforts to focus on your tasks, your thoughts kept drifting back to him. Where could he be? Why hadn't he shown up as usual? The questions nagged at you, fueling the unease that had settled in your stomach like a lead weight.

"Peaches?!" You heard the voice of one of the local and returning customers from the other side of the dancing floor. He was a friend. Or so you thought. He raised two fingers into the air and in a second you were already pouring the brownish liquid of Jung's Whiskey into the crystal-clear glasses.

You walked over to the table he was sitting at alongside a face you'd never seen before. Thanking you for the drinks, he pointed his thumb to the man sitting next to him.

"Peaches, Jinyoung—"

"Jinyoung, Peaches."

You offered a polite smile, acknowledging the introduction as you set down the drinks on the table. The unfamiliar man, Jinyoung, returned the gesture with a nod, his expression unreadable.

"Nice to meet you, Jinyoung," you replied, your voice tinged with a hint of curiosity.

Jinyoung's gaze met yours, his eyes dark and probing as if searching for something within you. You couldn't help but feel a twinge of discomfort under his scrutiny, a feeling that only added to the unease already gnawing at your insides. Something about him set off alarm bells in your mind, a primal instinct warning you to tread carefully.

"What's a beauty like you doing tucked in Anubis?" Jinyoung asked, his voice smooth and velvety. You glanced around the dimly lit bar, suddenly aware of the eyes that seemed to linger on you from every corner, not understanding why.

"I... I work here," you said, a sudden shyness prevailing on the surface. You never really engaged with other men apart from Namjoon. For some reason, each time a man approached you, all of them quickly backed out, opting to not even look your way. For a long time, you did not know what you did wrong to chase them all away. But you got to know that night.

Jinyoung's lips quirked into a knowing smile, his gaze never leaving yours.

"I can offer you a better job, beauty," his words dripping with a seductive allure, and in that moment, you decided you needed to get back to work ASAP. He sounded like trouble you did not want on your last days here.

"I... I appreciate the offer, but I'm quite content here," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

"You sure? I could have good use of someone like you, Peaches." Your heart pounded in your chest as Jinyoung's words washed over you. He played with your name on his tongue, and you had a hint that the job he was offering you would be something much worse than working in Anubis.

"Easy, Jinyoung, that's Namjoon's girl you're talking to." Jackson finally spoke up as if he heard your little begging in your head, but this was not what you expected him to say. Were you Namjoon's girl? Years went by and he merely brushed upon your hand with his own. There was no attempt to woo you directly. So how come everyone saw it this way—you as Namjoon's girl?

"I'm not Namjoon's girl—" you said, standing your ground for once. You saw Jackson's eyes widen and Jinyoung smirk at your remark.

"I'm no one's girl—"

"Nonetheless, thanks for the offer but I have to decline." Jinyoung's smirk widened at your words, his gaze flickering with amusement as if he found your defiance entertaining. A second later you were on your way back to the bar. He was Jackson's friend, but he was crude and he did not understand he ought to fuck off. The grip you suddenly felt on your upper arm was painful enough to make you wince, yanking you back as you squinted your eyes from the pain of his touch.

"What makes you say no if you're no one's slu—" your ears picked up his words before they were silenced. Forever. His last words were cut off by a deafening gunshot, leaving you frozen in shock. The sound of it still ringing in your ears as you turned to see the source of the chaos. There, standing with a smoking gun in his hand, was Namjoon, his expression unreadable as he stared down at Jinyoung's lifeless form. One side of Jackson's face was covered in blood that was his friend's, his shock mirroring your own. And you were scared to even move an inch.

Namjoon had just killed a man in cold blood, he shot him right in front of you. Without mercy. Panic surged through you as you realized the gravity of what had just transpired. The grip he had on your upper arm weakened yet remained even after his head fell down. It was a clear shot to the side of his head.

By now, half of the bar emptied, only those underworld rats stayed unfazed. Namjoon was always so calm, so collected. But now, he looked like a completely different person. The bar had fallen into an eerie silence, broken only by the sound of your own ragged breathing. You wanted to run, but your legs failed you, unable to move as the reality of the situation sank in.

"What—" your heart hammered in your chest as you searched for something, anything, to say, but the words caught in your throat, choked by the weight of the moment. Your whole body trembled uncontrollably, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. You reached to pull your hand away from Jinyoung's lifeless grip and while you struggled to do so, the scenery before you was not helping you to calm down. The side of his head blown up, you could see parts of his brain, immediately making you empty your stomach on the floor. The fact that Namjoon hadn't said a word since he literally came out of nowhere was not contributing to the situation either.

You heard his smooth voice but it was too muffled at this point. He was giving orders to Jackson, but you did not understand a single word coming out of his mouth. Your head was spinning and the room felt like a carousel.

"Why would you—" you began to stutter, your voice barely a whisper. The question died on your lips, swallowed by the overwhelming sense of dread that hung heavy in the air. Namjoon had just committed an act of unspeakable violence, ending a man's life without a second thought. Nothing will be the same ever again. You stayed out of all the illegalness that surrounded Anubis on purpose. What eyes don't see, heart doesn't hurt. What you don't know, can't hurt you. But now you eye-witnessed such brutality and he won't let you walk away to the other end of the rainbow.

You did not expect him to hear you nor even answer your remark, but of course, Kim Namjoon was always here to listen to you.

"He touched you."

The words hit you like a physical blow, jolting you out of your stunned silence. He wasn't just stating a fact; he was issuing a warning, a chilling reminder of the consequences of crossing him. Looking him in the eye, he looked like a possessive maniac, like someone determined to protect what he perceived as his.

"He didn't—" you began, your voice faltering under the weight of Namjoon's scrutiny. Yet you stopped yourself to think whether Jinyoung's intentions were harmless or not. You remembered the way Jinyoung had leered at you, his touch lingering where it shouldn't have.

"No one can touch you, Peaches."

You felt a chill run down your spine as the weight of his words settled over you. It wasn't just a declaration; it was a promise, a vow to protect you at any cost. But beneath the surface, you sensed something darker, something primal and possessive that sent chills down your body.

You were paralyzed by the intensity of his gaze, unable to tear your eyes away from his. Your mind raced with a million thoughts and questions, but you knew better than to voice them.

That night you started to hate each and every gaze he threw your way when you were working, all the men running away after uttering a single word to you, and all the remarks about you being Namjoon's girl.

But were you ready to be Namjoon's girl? To be part of his world?

You sit up, the sheets clinging to your skin like a shroud, and confront the spectres that linger above. Even after some weeks, you still cannot shake off the tremor you've experienced that night.

"Peaches?!" You heard your father's voice. You were hidden in the confines of your small room for days now, coming out only to take a bottle of water, and even that you managed to minimize by taking the whole six-pack. You couldn't bring yourself to respond.

The look in Namjoon's eyes, the sound of the gunshot ringing in your ears, the sight of Jinyoung's lifeless body—all of it was seared into your mind, haunting you like a relentless spectre. You needed some time. But it was running out quickly.

Lost in the labyrinth of your thoughts, you remained silent, grappling with the weight of the choices that lay before you. You packed your bag last night, all the cash stuffed inside at various places, just to be turned right back on your heel by two muscular men you'd never met before. The color they wore was emerald green, and you quickly understood that those were Jung soldiers, if you could call them that.

Your father was similarly confused. His eyes were darting between you and the soldiers as he struggled to make sense of the situation. So here you are, awaiting when he will decide to collect you. What is he waiting for? You knew that your time was running out; you just didn't know exactly when it would run out.

In that moment that night, you missed the Namjoon you thought he was. All you could see was a stranger, a dangerous man whose actions had shattered your illusions and left you reeling in their wake. Yes, you knew his line of work, but you'd rather not see it with your own two eyes. You'd rather stay oblivious to who he really was just to keep the picture of the Namjoon you knew hanging a little bit longer.

"You can't hide there forever." And you certainly did not plan to, but coming out to see your father's worried face after he sees how disheveled you look could wait for another day or so. You did not know what Namjoon intended to achieve by making you a prisoner in your own home.

Every fiber of your being wanted to hate Namjoon, but you did not know whether that was even possible with how smart that man was with his mouth.

This cage of fear and uncertainty made you uneasy. The wind that forcefully closed your window awoke you from your thoughts. You lived on the second floor of an old block of apartments. You moved toward the old rusted window, cautiously pushing it open again. The cool night air rushed to meet your cheeks, and you closed your eyes to feel it.

Peering down, you assessed the drop. It wasn't too high, and the fire escape just below offered a feasible route. Why had it not occurred to you earlier?

"Peaches, please, talk to me. They've been saying that you can't go out and should wait for sajangnim Kim."

Your father's voice was strained, a mix of concern and frustration. You hesitated, torn between the urge to reassure him and the pressing need to just run for the hills before it was too late for you.

What you realized in the moment, listening to his muffled pleas, was that this might be the last time you'd see him. You couldn't come back to the Bronx ever again. Nor New York. You weren't sure exactly what the magnitude of Jung's power was that Namjoon shared, but you had the hunch that wherever you'd hide in this state, he would find you.

"Dad?" you said softly, your voice barely a whisper. You felt a lump in your throat, the weight of the impending goodbye pressing down on you. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself.

"I'm here, Peaches," your father responded, his voice breaking slightly. "Please, come out. We'll figure this out." Tears welled up in your eyes as you clung to the closed door.

"It's no go, Dad."

"Please, just open the door." His voice was closer now, just outside the door.

You glanced around your room, grabbing your packed bag and slipping it over your shoulder.

"I love you, Dad. I'm sorry. Bye—"

With a final, sorrowful glance toward the door, you slipped out of the window, your feet finding purchase on the metal grating of the fire escape. You descended quickly, not daring to look back. The metal stairs creaked under your weight, each step taking you further from the life you knew. You needed to disappear.

You had no shoes on, and the white tank top clung to your skin, outlining your curves and breasts. The night air was cool against your exposed skin, a harsh contrast to the warmth of your tears. The metal of the stairs felt rough under your bare feet, but you pushed forward until you were all the way down.

Catching your breath and glancing around the dimly lit alleyway, the city felt oppressively silent, the only sound your own ragged breathing. As you took a step forward, a soft scoff resonated in your ears, leaving you standing there frozen. The man was totally invisible in the dark shadows of the alley between the buildings until he pulled out his zippo lighter to light a cigarette, illuminating his face. He exhaled a cloud of smoke, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Where are you headed, Peaches?"

The man who was casually leaning against the cold bricks wasn't unfamiliar to you. You, as a barmaid at Anubis, had the extravagant privilege to meet four out of the big seven. Kim Taehyung being one of them, standing here in front of you.

"Mr. Kim," you breathed, dread pooling in your stomach. You were on a first-name basis only with Namjoon even though they all scolded you, especially your lady boss, for being way too formal and polite, making them feel older than they actually are. Truth be told, you were putting some distance between them, but you utterly failed to do so with Namjoon, and here you are, on the run.

"I'm your family now, Peaches," Taehyung said, his voice dripping with mockery. "You should start getting used to that, so drop the mister finally."

You gritted your teeth, trying to steady your nerves as you faced Taehyung. "Taehyung," you corrected yourself, though the informal address felt wrong on your tongue.

"That's better, what a good girl you can be," he said with a smirk, taking a step closer. His presence felt suffocating, a reminder of the dangerous world you had stumbled into.

"Why are you here, Taehyung?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

"Why are you here, Peaches?" Taehyung countered, his tone filled with amusement. You bit the inside of your mouth, feeling the nerves tighten their grip on you.

"Getting some fresh air," you replied, trying to sound casual despite the knot of anxiety tightening in your chest.

Taehyung raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. "Ah, yes, because nothing says 'fresh air' like sneaking out of your window in the dead of night," he quipped, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his scrutiny bearing down on you. "I just needed to clear my head," you said, hoping he would buy your flimsy excuse.

"You are not planning to do anything stupid now, Peaches, right?" You paused, considering your response carefully. Taehyung's tone, though casual, carried a hint of warning that sent a shiver down your spine. You slightly shook your head to show dismissal.

"Namjoon-hyung said you looked pretty shaken up that night." You couldn't help but tense at Taehyung's mention of Namjoon, a surge of apprehension coursing through you. You had tried to bury the memories of that night deep within you, but they continued to resurface, haunting your every thought.

"I'm fine," you replied, forcing a tight smile. "Just had a rough night, that's all."

"It looks like you're about to have another one to me." Your heart skipped a beat at Taehyung's ominous remark, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. Despite his casual demeanor, there was an underlying tension in the air that sent a shiver down your spine.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you said, trying to keep your voice steady despite the rising sense of unease.

"Unzipped duffle bag, dollar bills fell from it while you were going down, that looks like you were very eager to get that fresh air."

"I... I was just going for a walk," you stammered, scrambling for an excuse. Taehyung raised an eyebrow, his gaze unwavering.

"Without putting your shoes on?"

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of Taehyung's scrutiny bearing down on you. "I couldn't sleep," you admitted, the words tumbling out in a rush. "I needed some fresh air to clear my head.” You repeat yourself, but you know that you can’t fool him no matter what.

Taehyung's gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he shrugged, as if dismissing the matter altogether. "Well, you certainly know how to make an exit," he remarked, his smirk never faltering.

You forced a weak smile, trying to mask the unease bubbling inside you. "Guess I've always had a flair for the dramatic," you quipped, though the words rang hollow in your ears.

Taehyung chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. "That you do, Peaches. That you do," he said cryptically, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement and something else you couldn't quite decipher.

"You know, Namjoon doesn't like it when his... family goes missing," he said, the emphasis on 'family' making you flinch. He took a slow drag from his cigarette, exhaling the smoke in a lazy stream.

You clenched your fists, feeling trapped. "I'm not missing," you said, your voice firmer than before. "I'm right here."

"I'd probably get a head start if I were you." Taehyung nodded slowly, as if considering your words.

Your heart pounded in your chest. "A head start?"

He took another drag, the smirk never leaving his lips. "I'm not a monster, Peaches. I'll give you a five-minute head start before I come after you."

The realization hit you like a ton of bricks. He was actually giving you a chance to run, but this time you would know someone was after you. You glanced around, calculating your options. The streets were empty, but you knew they wouldn't stay that way for long.

"Five minutes, Peaches. Starting now."

You turned and ran, your bare feet slapping against the pavement. The adrenaline coursed through your veins as you sprinted down the alley, knowing that Taehyung's smirk was etched in your mind.

You didn't know where you were going, but you knew you had to get as far away as possible. Everything blurred as you pushed yourself to run faster, the sound of your heartbeat drowning out everything else.

If you hide well, he can't find you, can he? You just have to find yourself a place to hide until morning and then you can wait till sunrise, get to the airport and fly to the first destination that will pop up.

You could feel the cold concrete scraping your feet, but the pain was a distant echo compared to the urgency of escape. You glanced over your shoulder, half-expecting to see Taehyung's figure emerging from the shadows, but for now, you were alone.

You could feel the cold concrete scraping your feet, but the pain was a distant echo compared to the urgency of escape. You glanced over your shoulder, half-expecting to see Taehyung's figure emerging from the shadows, but for now, you were alone.

The five minutes neared their end, and you knew you couldn't stay hidden forever. You had to keep moving, keep putting distance between you and Taehyung. Peering through the leaves, you scanned the area, your mind racing through possible routes and hiding spots.

"If I don’t bring you back, he'll come instead, Peaches!" Taehyung's voice echoed through, taunting you.

"You don't want to anger him, do you now?"

You needed a plan, and fast. Glancing around, you noticed a narrow passageway between two buildings, just wide enough for you to squeeze through. It might lead you to a different part of the neighborhood, giving you a chance to lose Taehyung in the labyrinth of backstreets.

You bolted towards the passageway, your bare feet slapping against the cold pavement. The alley was narrow and dark, but you pushed forward, heart pounding in your chest. Every shadow seemed to move, every sound amplified in the stillness of the night.

"They all run at first, Peaches—" Taehyung's voice echoed, closer now. "You're cute thinking you have a chance to get away."

It was way too narrow even if you put your bag down from your shoulder and dragged it as you tried to squeeze through. Every shadow seemed to move, every sound amplified in the stillness of the night, and you were scared that he would get to you soon. You knew he was out there, somewhere, searching for you.

"Although, my mind is troubled. Why, out of all of them, do you run?" There was a pause, then a chuckle.

You pushed yourself harder, feeling the rough brick walls scrape against your skin. You needed to keep moving, but you also needed a moment to think. The airport was too far, especially when they were already looking for you. You thought you were clever to disappear through the window as if you were in some cheesy cliché movie.

"Namjoon-hyung was always good to you, wasn't he?" He was. Until the moment someone else's brain was blown up by him right in front of you, simply because of his possessiveness while he never made you two exclusive. Or at least you thought so, as it showed—you were claimed by him sooner than you actually realized. You felt the panic rising in your chest, threatening to overwhelm you.

"You have no reason to run, Peaches," Taehyung's voice was taunting, echoing off the walls. "Namjoon-hyung will be so disappointed when he finds out how far you've gone." You ignored the majority of his words, focusing on finding a way out.

You closed your eyes and tried to think harder this time. The old train yard—bingo—it was on the outskirts of the city. It was abandoned, a place where few people ventured. If you could make it there, you might be able to find a boxcar to hide in until morning.

"Family doesn't abandon family, Peaches!" You heard his voice again, this time more distant.

Emerging from the passageway, you found yourself in a small courtyard. It was littered with old furniture and discarded trash; the smell was awful, but you didn't have time to dwell on that.

You listened intently, straining to hear any sign of Taehyung. The silence was deafening, broken only by the distant hum of traffic and the occasional bark of a dog.

You stuck to the shadows, moving as quietly as possible. The train yard was a long way off, but it was your best shot at staying out of immediate reach. Or so you thought.

You couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. Every rustle of leaves, every distant footstep made you jump. You forced yourself to stay calm, to focus on the path ahead. Panicking would only slow you down.

The city's edge came into view, the silhouette of the train yard looming in the distance. You quickened your pace, the sight of your potential sanctuary giving you a burst of energy. You crossed the threshold into the yard, the rusted tracks and abandoned cars offering a twisted sense of comfort.

An old boxcar with the door slightly ajar beckoned to you. You slipped inside, the smell of rust and decay filling your nostrils. You closed the door behind you, plunging the space into darkness. It was cramped and musty, but it was hidden.

Sinking to the floor, you allowed yourself a moment to breathe. Your body ached, your feet throbbed, but you had made it. For now, you were safe. You could only hope that Taehyung would give up the chase, or at least lose your trail long enough for you to figure out your next move.

The sound of gravel crunching outside the boxcar woke you up and consequently made your heart jump into your throat. You held your breath, straining to listen. The footsteps were deliberate and slow, echoing through the stillness of the night.

You held your breath, trying to remain as quiet as possible. The footsteps drew closer, each crunch of gravel sending a shockwave through your body. Your mind raced with possibilities. Was it Taehyung? Or perhaps someone else stumbling upon your hiding spot?

"I seriously don't understand why you didn't throw her over your shoulder and take her back to her room." The older male shot him a glare.

"Oh come the fuck on, you're one to talk." It was Taehyung's voice, laced with frustration and annoyance.

“I did not lose her, I gave her choice and she chose wrong, she’ll be back though, in no time.” The younger one scoffed and Taehyung quirked his brows, evidently amused by his brother. 

"Well, at least that was my woman I lost and not our Hyung's." The tattooed heartthrob spat his friend's way when he heard his scoff.

"This isn't really my job. I'm only doing this because Namjoon cares about her too much to leave someone incompetent to watch her until he'll come back."

“Or you’re the only one without a woman, Tae.” You heard a little thump as if he jokingly punched him and the other voice chuckled. But first and foremost –

Namjoon's away. He did not come for you as he's away, and if away means out of the state, you have a bigger chance to make an exit than you originally thought.

Seeing him would only make things worse. Listening to his sweet melodies of words would make you doubt what Taehyung initiated—you have no reason to run. Apart from that, you do. He was deeply entrenched in the world of organized crime, his life a constant dance between power and peril. While his charming demeanor and enigmatic presence had drawn you in, you knew that his lifestyle came with its own set of risks and consequences.

He operated in the shadows, his actions dictated by a code of loyalty to his comrades and ruthlessness towards his enemies. At least that's what you heard people talk about the Jungs and their family man.

You didn't think there was room for innocence. But were you innocent? You had blood on your hands. Jinyoung's. You had been complicit in his demise. While it wasn't you who pulled the trigger, you were the motive.

As the voices grew louder, you strained to make out what they were saying. The sound of footsteps approached the boxcar, each one sending a jolt of fear through you. Were they getting closer? Were they about to open the door and drag you out into the open?

"I did not expect her to play the game that well, I have to give her that," Taehyung remarked, his voice tinged with admiration. Your heart raced as you listened to their conversation.

"Smart, just like he is."

The footsteps came to a stop just outside the boxcar, and you braced yourself for the door to swing open at any moment. Every nerve in your body was on edge, ready to flee at the first sign of danger.

But instead of the door creaking open, the voices began to fade away, the gravel crunching underfoot growing softer as they moved further away. Relief washed over you in waves, but you remained cautious, waiting until the sound of their footsteps had disappeared entirely before allowing yourself to relax.

You stayed hidden in the darkness of the boxcar, unsure of how much time had passed. Eventually, the adrenaline began to ebb, leaving you exhausted and drained. You were scared that they were waiting outside and the moment you decided to move places would be fatal for you.

The growl in your stomach was loud, echoing in the empty boxcar. You hadn't eaten in what felt like an eternity, and the gnawing hunger was beginning to take its toll. Despite the fear that they might be lying in wait, you knew you couldn't stay here forever or you'd die of hunger very soon.

Despite the fear that they might be lying in wait, you knew you couldn't stay here forever. Peeking through the small gap, you scanned the area. The night was still, and there was no sign of Taehyung or anyone else.

Slipping out of the boxcar, you kept to the shadows, moving quietly and quickly. You needed to find food, but more importantly, you needed to find a safer place to hide. If you couldn't reach the airport, you'd have to wait somewhere until you were considered off the radar. Would Namjoon lose his interest if he knew you were gone for good? You hoped so, but you also strongly doubted that. The man had had his eyes set on you for three years or so, without ever losing interest in you.

The city was vast, with many nooks and crannies where you could potentially evade capture, but you moved in the dead of the night cautiously. Slowly closing the distance between the convenience store at least ten blocks from your home, its lights were still on and you thanked the almighty, or more so the 24 hour market in front of you.

The store seemed deserted, only a shabby-looking man in his mid-thirties sitting behind the counter, half asleep. You slipped inside, quickly grabbing some food and water before leaving to pay at the counter. When the doorbell rang indicating that a customer entered the small store, you froze in place.

You ducked behind a shelf, hoping the dim lighting and cluttered aisles would conceal you. Peering through a gap between products, you saw a figure enter. You may be paranoid but you wouldn't take the risk when you had managed to not be caught for what seemed like hours. You knew better.

Your heart pounded in your chest, the sound of your heartbeat almost louder than the growling stomach from earlier. You clutched the food tightly, muscles tense, waiting for the perfect moment to quickly throw the few bucks on the counter and make your leave. You straightened a little.

It wasn't him. It was just a person that resembled him. With a rush of relief, you moved to the counter. The shabby-looking clerk barely glanced up as you placed your items down and reached into your pocket for the money. Just as you were about to pay, a hand slammed the money down on the counter in front of you. Your heart skipped a beat and your eyes widened.

You looked up slowly, dread pooling in your stomach. Taehyung stood beside you, his eyes locking onto yours with a cold, triumphant smile.

"My treat," he said smoothly, his voice dripping with mock politeness. You froze, your breath catching in your throat. The clerk, oblivious to the tension, lazily rang up the items and handed the change to Taehyung. He pocketed it without breaking eye contact with you.

You acted rather quickly after you regained your senses, but the exit was blocked by the man you saw earlier. How could you not recognize the famous heartthrob of this decade, Jeon Jungkook? Only a few people knew of his connection to the Jungs, Kims, and Parks.

"Going somewhere?" Jungkook's voice was smooth and exactly identical to the one you heard outside of the boxcar, but there was an edge to it that sent chills down your spine. He leaned casually against the doorframe, his dark eyes fixed on you with a predatory gleam.

Panic surged through you as you realized your escape route was cut off. You glanced around the store, searching for another way out, but Taehyung's hand clamped down on your arm, his grip firm and unyielding.

The clerk did not care to intervene; he knew their faces and what they represented. One girl was not worth the trouble for him.

"Let's go," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. You had no choice but to follow, your mind racing with thoughts of escape. As you stepped out of the store, the chilly night air hit you, a stark contrast to the suffocating presence of Taehyung beside you. You scanned the street for any potential way out, but Taehyung's grip on your arm tightened, steering you toward a nearby alley.

You stumbled slightly, trying to keep pace with him. The alley was dark and narrow, the perfect place for someone to disappear. Desperation surged through you, fueling your determination. You had to find a way out of this.

"You lasted more than I expected, Peaches. I have to give you that." You fought to suppress the shiver that threatened to run down your spine. Taehyung's voice, usually smooth and melodic, now held an edge of something darker, something sinister.

"But it's time to go home."

The weight of his intentions pressed down on you like a heavy stone. You did not know what home he was speaking of. Your home? Namjoon's home? You'd never been there; you couldn't know what home he meant. But something told you that wherever he'd take you, "home" would be a gilded cage, a place of confinement disguised as comfort.

You remained silent, your jaw clenched in defiance as you continued to walk, your eyes darting around the alley for any sign of escape. But every corner seemed to lead to another dead end, and the walls closed in around you like a vice.

Tears welled up in your eyes as the desperation hit your nerves. Taehyung's grip tightened slightly, as if warning you against any further attempts at escape.

"There was no need to run, Peaches." Wasn't there? You stopped to think for a minute. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart.

With a sudden burst of strength, you twisted out of Taehyung's grip and bolted. The sound of his shout echoed behind you, but you didn't look back. You darted through the maze of backstreets, your only goal to put as much distance between you and Taehyung as possible.

Reaching a dead end, you spotted a fire escape ladder. Without a second thought, you began climbing, your fingers slipping on the cold metal. You reached the rooftop, not daring to look back as you sprinted across the gravel. The cityscape stretched before you, a chaotic playground of rooftops and danger.

You leaped from one building to the next, each landing jarring your bones, but you couldn't stop. You heard Taehyung's voice calling your name, a mix of frustration and anger, but you didn't dare slow down. You reached the edge of a particularly wide gap between buildings and hesitated, just a split second too long.

A strong arm wrapped around your waist, yanking you back. You thrashed, but the grip was unyielding. Jungkook's face came into view, his expression grim. He was faster than Taehyung, and you knew your chances to outrun him were slight, but you still hoped.

"You can't run forever, Peaches," he said quietly, almost regretfully. You could hear Taehyung's leather boots stomping against the roof's concrete and his ragged breath in unison.

You struggled, kicking and clawing, but he held firm. Your heart sank as the reality of the situation set in. Just then, you heard the uncomfortable digital sound of the Motorola flip phone that was in Taehyung's hand once he stopped in front of you.

"Hmm?" Taehyung answered the phone and ended the gut-wrenching sound. You knew who was on the other side of the line. Jungkook still held you securely, his eyes never leaving yours.

There was a pause, and then he handed you the phone.

"Your Mr. Man wants to speak to you."

You hesitated for a moment, the weight of the phone heavy in your hand. With a deep breath, you brought it to your ear, steeling yourself for the inevitable confrontation with Namjoon.

"Hello?" Your voice trembled slightly, betraying the fear and uncertainty swirling within you.

"You're losing sleep, love," he said, his tone smooth but laced with a menacing undertone. You took a shaky breath.

"S-so are you." He chuckled. You bit the inside of your lip out of nerves.

"I'd sleep better if you came back to me like the good girl I know you are."

The mixture of his charm and underlying threat was intoxicating and terrifying.

"I can't, Namjoon," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I can't live like this anymore. I never wanted to live like this, and you knew that."

"Life is just about to begin for you, love—" he replied, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Our life," he added, and your grip tightened around the phone.

"What does that even mean?" you demanded, a mix of anger and desperation coloring your words.

"It means," he began, his voice smooth yet chilling, "that whatever you fear, we'll figure this out together."

"Please, Namjoon," you begged, your voice barely a whisper. "Let me go. I can't. I just can't," you cried out.

There was a long pause on the other end of the line, and you held your breath, hoping against hope that he might relent. Your heart pounded with a mix of fear and helplessness.

"Freedom is an illusion, love," he said, almost gently. "The only freedom you'll ever have is with me. Now, come back. We'll talk this through, and I promise you, everything will be fine. Just trust me."

"Namjoon—"

"Peaches—" he quickly interrupted your attempt to plead again.

"Don't make me take harsher measures to ensure you'll come back to me." His tone grew colder, the underlying threat unmistakable.

"Wh-what are you talking about?" you asked, a tremor in your voice.

"You know what I can do. It would be a shame if the same thing happened to someone else you care about." His words hung in the air, heavy with menace.

You looked at Jungkook and Taehyung, their faces impassive yet resolute. They were ready to enforce Namjoon's will, no matter the cost.

"Why are you doing this to me?" you asked, voice quivering.

"We can talk about that once you come home," Namjoon replied, his voice smooth but unyielding.

"Namjoon, please..." you started, desperation lacing your words.

"Enough, Peaches," he cut you off sharply. "You know what's at stake. I expect you back within an hour. Hand the phone to Taehyung."

With a heavy heart, you handed the phone back to Taehyung. He took it, his eyes filled with a mix of pity, but you didn't think it was genuine. You felt Jungkook's grip loosen slightly, but not enough to let you go.

Taehyung listened to Namjoon for a moment, then nodded. "Understood," he said before hanging up. He looked at you, his expression resigned.

"Let's go," he said softly.

You don't even know how you managed to fall asleep in the car. They took your bag, draped a warm blanket over you, and sat you down on the back seat. You did not protest anymore, even though the thought of jumping out of the car went through your head briefly.

You thought of your father, your friends, and everyone you ever met and cared for when he took the ultimate move that would make you leave everything in a heartbeat. You don't want more blood on your hands.

At the same time, you could not understand why Namjoon would take such harsh measures. This wasn't the Namjoon you knew—heck, you don't even know if you ever knew that man.

The lavish room surrounding you was magnificent and screaming one name: Namjoon. Even his scent was clinging to every single piece of the room. The silk sheets clung to your skin, and you couldn't help but close your eyes again. The morning light filtered through the heavy curtains, casting a golden hue across the room.

You could hear the audible difference in your surroundings. The Bronx had a distinctive hum, a chaotic symphony of life and struggle. But this—this was different. The sounds outside the open window were unmistakably Manhattan. The distant buzz of traffic, the occasional honk of a horn, and the muffled chatter of people far below created a stark contrast to the quiet tension inside.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. Every moment spent here felt like a betrayal to the life you once knew, the people you once loved. But escape wasn't just about physical freedom—it was about breaking free from the psychological chains Namjoon had wrapped around you.

You did not know whether you weren't running for the hills now because this oddly feels like you are meant to be here or because you don't know if you should. You spent a lot of time rolling around and thinking about this. You had not come to a conclusion yet. You'd only decided that you would give him the courtesy to talk after all the years that he and his family supported you by giving you a job.

With that resolve, you climbed out of bed, feeling the weight of silk sheets slipping away. The cold floor sent a shiver up your spine, bringing you fully awake. You made your way to the bathroom, the reflection in the mirror staring back at you. You need a haircut, maybe even a new hair color.

The shower's hot water provided a temporary refuge, washing away the grime and tension of the past few days. After drying off, you dressed in clothes Namjoon had probably laid out for you—an unspoken reminder of his control.

You entered the kitchen, where the aroma of breakfast hung in the air. The scent of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the rich aroma of bacon and eggs, momentarily distracting you. You were starving.

As you moved further into the room, a sudden noise made you jump. Startled, you turned to see a figure in a white chef's uniform bustling about the kitchen. He looked up, his eyes widening in surprise as he saw you.

"Good morning, Misses Kim," he said with a polite nod. "I didn't expect you to be up so early.” The title he used sent a shiver down your spine. Misses Kim. It was as if the walls were closing in, suffocating you with the weight of an identity that wasn’t yours to claim. You overlooked yourself and your attire.

You could see your bra-less breasts and perky nipples through that white tanktop, but the chef was trained well enough to not look that way. He would most likely be beheaded by Namjoon if he would dare to look that way.

"Good morning," you replied, your voice tinged with a mix of nerves and hunger. You forced a small smile.

The chef, a middle-aged man with kind eyes, set down the spatula he was holding and wiped his hands on a towel. "My name is Seo Kang-joon, Misses Kim. I'm Sajangnim's private chef—" you figured that much. Of course that man has a private chef when he cannot boil a potato for the love of God.

"He tasked me to make you some breakfast and tell you he'll be with you shortly," he explained, gesturing to the array of food laid out on the counter.

You nodded, taking a seat at the kitchen island. Your stomach growled audibly, and despite the chaos in your mind, the food before you was an undeniable lure. You picked up a piece of toast, buttering it slowly as Kang-joon resumed his work.

"How long have you been working for Namjoon?" you asked, trying to fill the silence with something other than your own anxious thoughts.

Kang-joon glanced up from the stove, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "About three years now," he replied. "I've switched with my Appa; he was working for the Kims for two generations and now it's my turn—"

"That's a long time," you said, taking a bite of the toast, the warmth of the food providing a small comfort.

"Yes, it is," he agreed, his voice gentle. "Namjoon is a good employer, he's always treated us fairly. And he cares about you a great deal—"

"I've seen you before, didn't I?" you interrupted, suddenly recalling a moment that had slipped through your mind like sand.

"At the private party last month. You were serving food, right?"

Kang-joon nodded, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Yes, that was me. I remember seeing you there, although you were quite busy too—"

You were supposed to be waitressing the tables, plural, yet you only waitressed one table that night. As per usual.

"Yep, that was my reality, I guess," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "Before all of this."

Kang-joon's expression turned somber, and he stopped cooking momentarily.

"Namjoon doesn't let anyone near you, but I've seen how happy you make him. He's different around you." Of course he thinks so. You don't blame him for his inability to see through this. It's not his place.

You fell silent, pondering his words. The chaos of Namjoon's life and the dark undercurrents that surrounded him felt suffocating. "But at what cost?" you whispered, more to yourself than to him.

"He means well—" he paused his thought and got silent, and you knew that means only one thing.

"I appreciate your loyalty to him," you said, forcing a smile that felt brittle on your lips.

"Good morning, love," he said, his voice deep and commanding. His eyes darted between you and Kang-joon, who stood with a spatula in hand, caught in the moment. "I hope you're both having a pleasant chat."

Kang-joon bowed slightly, and you could see the way he was careful to keep his composure, even as the atmosphere shifted with Namjoon's presence. "I was just finishing up breakfast, Sajangnim," he said politely. "Miss Kim and I were discussing your—"

"Thank you, Kang-joon," Namjoon interrupted, his tone suggesting a mixture of gratitude and an underlying tension. "I can take it from here."

The air felt thick, heavy with unspoken words. You looked at him, wanting to scream, wanting to run, wanting to demand answers.

"Did you sleep well?" Namjoon asked, his voice softer now, as if he was trying to breach the walls that had begun to rise between you.

You nursed your coffee in the black ceramic mug while you shrugged, keeping the answer with spice in it for yourself just yet. His brow furrowed, and for a moment, you could see the cracks in his façade when you didn't answer.

"I see... silent treatment," he gulped down, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. Pouring himself a cup of coffee too, he leaned on the counter right in front of you. You took his appearance in. He got a buzz cut, creamy satin shirt tucked in leather pants. A few of the buttons were undone, giving you a perfect view of his toned chest.

"Is that really how you want to start the day?" he provoked. You set the mug down, the clink of ceramic against marble echoing in the tension-filled kitchen.

"Did you ask yourself the same question when you threatened me?" you shot back, your voice rising slightly as the memories flooded back. The anger surged within you, igniting a fire that had been smoldering since the moment you woke up in his penthouse.

Namjoon's expression shifted, the warmth in his eyes replaced by a flicker of defensiveness.

"Well, you for some reason seemed too adamant that you needed to patrol the streets of Bronx by running away from me. I know you too damn well, Peaches; I know where you were headed."

The words stung, each syllable laced with accusation and an unsettling truth. Your heart raced, the anger bubbling just below the surface.

"You know fucking shit, Namjoon—"

"Oppa," he jumped in, his voice firm, yet tinged with a note of caution.

You inhaled sharply, the familiar term slicing through the tension like a knife. It reminded you of the intimate moments you once shared. "You've lost that honorific the moment you decided to threaten me and kill that man right in front of my eyes!"

Namjoon's jaw clenched, and you could see the conflict brewing beneath his composed exterior.

"You don't understand the kind of world I'm in. We protect ours."

"Protect?" you spat, feeling the heat of betrayal wash over you.

"I'm a person who deserves to make her own choices—" He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing.

"What choices are you making? Running off into the night like it's some kind of adventure? You think that's brave? I refuse to let you get hurt because you're unhappy with my decisions."

"Oh yeah, like something would happen to me—"

"You are my woman, and people know that you are, Peaches!" he declared, his voice rising with intensity, as if the weight of his words was meant to command respect from the universe itself.

Your heart raced at his proclamation, a mix of anger and something softer twisting in your gut.

"The fuck you're talking about, Namjoon?" You snapped, your voice echoing off the sleek kitchen walls. Anger surged within you, fueled by the sheer audacity of his claim.

"Not fucking once did you say that we ought to be official one day—" you shot back, your voice dripping with disbelief.

"You act like I'm some sort of possession, something you can just claim without any conversation or commitment!" Namjoon's expression hardened, a flicker of frustration flashing in his eyes.

"You need to stop pretending like we don't have a future because you're scared of the past," he said, smashing the mug down on the counter. Namjoon's jaw tightened, and the conflict in his eyes was palpable.

"Since we met, not fucking once have you made your intentions strictly clear, Namjoon! The fuck am I doing here then?!" The words burst from your lips, raw and unfiltered, echoing in the tense space between you.

He ran a hand over his face, visibly struggling to keep his composure.

"I thought you knew. I thought you felt it too," he replied, his voice softer now, almost pleading. "I thought it was understood that it was a matter of time."

"Understood?" you scoffed, incredulity seeping into your tone. "You think that just because you've made me a part of your life, I should automatically know my place? That's not how it works!"

"I was waiting till you'll—"

"Age of consent is eighteen in this state, Namjoon, keep that bullshit to yourself." Namjoon's expression darkened at your words, and you could see the frustration simmering beneath the surface.

"So you would rather be wifed and knocked up as soon as we met, am I right?"

The air crackled with tension as Namjoon's words hung in the space between you, a provocation that sent shockwaves through your body. You felt your breath hitch, a mixture of shock and anger coursing through you.

"So that's the plan now?" you lowered your voice.

His expression softened for a moment, and you could see the conflict etched across his features. "I thought you'd want that kind of future with me, Peaches. I thought we were on the same page from day one."

Despite Namjoon's willingness to talk, the remnants of fear and frustration churned within you, threatening to spill over. You took a deep breath, trying to ground yourself. Your heart raced, the urge to flee growing stronger. He reached out, grabbing your wrist gently but firmly.

"I love you, baby."

Your heart pounded in your chest at his words, a tumultuous blend of emotions crashing over you. You stood up from the stool you were sitting at, calmly aiming for the door. You didn't know what you were doing with this lame attempt to flee.

"Hey—" he shouted, but you did not stop. You could feel Namjoon's gaze burning into your back as you moved toward the door, his loud steps right behind you making you speed up the process.

You couldn't stop. The need to escape overwhelmed you, propelling you forward. You flung the door open, the sharp sound echoing in the silence that followed.

"Peaches!" he shouted again, his voice rising with urgency and desperation. The door rattled on its hinges as he leaned against it, trying to process what had just happened.

"Damn it!" he cursed under his breath, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on him. He knew he had pushed too hard, but he couldn't help it.

You trembled under him, still facing the door while his arm was outstretched, palms on the door, blocking you from opening it again. Your breath quickened as you stood there, the cool metal of the doorknob biting into your palm. You could feel Namjoon's presence behind you.

"Let me go, Namjoon," you demanded, your voice steady but wavering just slightly. The pounding of your heart felt like a war drum, urging you to flee, to escape this suffocating moment.

"You would come back to me nonetheless." You turned around to face him, your expression a blend of defiance and vulnerability.

"What makes you think I would?" you shot back, turning slightly to glance over your shoulder at him. The intensity in his eyes made your pulse quicken, a mixture of anger and confusion swirling within you.

"Because you love me back—" He leaned down, not giving you time to argue, and seized the chance to crash his lips down on yours for the first time.

His hands grabbed onto your hips, pulling you closer, the heat from his body seeping into yours. Your heart raced, the adrenaline coursing through your veins as his tongue danced with yours in a heated embrace.

Namjoon's fingers dug into your skin, his grip firm yet tender, as if he was trying to brand you as his own. The kiss was raw, primal, and all-consuming, leaving you both breathless and wanting more.

Namjoon's eyes locked onto yours, the fire within them burning brighter than ever before. With a low growl, he pulled you close again, his lips crashing down on yours once more as the world around you continued to spin.

As the kiss broke, Namjoon pulled away, his eyes burning with intensity.

"I'm not done being angry," you said, your voice low but unwavering. You could feel the heat radiating off him, and it both thrilled and terrified you.

Namjoon's brow furrowed slightly, surprise mingling with the intensity in his gaze. "I know that," he replied, his tone shifting, becoming more serious.

"Good," you spoke right to his lips, your heart still racing from the kiss. The mix of confusion and desire swirled within you, and you struggled to keep your composure.

The cognac brown couch was very comfortable, its soft cushions inviting you to sink in and relax. A glass coffee table with sleek chrome legs stood in front of it, its surface adorned with a stack of art books, a few scattered magazines, and a vintage crystal ashtray. So Namjoon.

A large, floor-to-ceiling window occupied one side of the room, offering a breathtaking view of the city skyline. A Persian rug, with intricate patterns in deep reds and blues, covered the polished hardwood floor, adding a touch of warmth and history to the contemporary space. Again, so Namjoon.

He was crouched down by the fireplace that dominated the place, his back to you. The fire cast a warm, flickering glow across the room, its light dancing over Namjoon's broad shoulders. He started the fire because he saw you shivering. But that had nothing to do with you being cold, and deep down he knew that too. He seemed lost in thought, his fingers idly tracing patterns on the floor as he stared into the flames.

You walked over to him, your footsteps silent on the plush rug. As you approached, Namjoon turned slightly, his eyes meeting yours. You sat down next to him.

"So, how do you imagine all this working?" you asked, your voice gentle yet tinged with the underlying frustration you felt.

Namjoon sighed, rubbing his temples with his fingers. "Just like it did till now."

You frowned slightly, shaking your head.

"So I'm gonna go back to working in Anubis and you are going to keep shooting everyone who gets closer to me?!" you said, a bit harsher than you intended. Namjoon's eyes flashed with a mix of frustration.

"You are not coming back to work in Anubis, let's start with that," he said firmly, his tone brooking no argument.

"My oh my, now you want to take the source of my income too." Namjoon shifted slightly, his gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. There was a flicker of something deeper in his eyes.

"You're my woman, Peaches. You don't need to work for money anymore," he started, his voice steady and filled with conviction.

You raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "You can't be serious."

"Women in our clan don't work for decades, my woman is not gonna work either. At least not like that—" You narrowed your eyes, feeling a mixture of disbelief and intrigue at his declaration.

"That's not who I am, Namjoon." He leaned in closer, the firelight casting a warm glow over his chiseled features.

"Baby, I'm not asking you. I'm offering you the life you always deserved." He sighed, running a hand through his hair, frustration evident on his face.

"I've always been able to take care of myself."

“So now let me take care of you, sweetling.”

Your mind raced as you considered his words. The allure of a life without the constant threat of violence, without the stress of making ends meet, was tempting. But was it worth giving up your autonomy?

“You can still pursue your passions. I’m not taking that away from you,—” Namjoon paused, his expression softening.

“But no Anubis,” he took your hands into his.

“What do you want?” You asked quietly. He held your gaze, the firelight flickering across his face, illuminating the resolve etched in his features.

“I think I made my intentions strictly clear today.” He chuckled and exhaled slowly, his breath warm against your skin.

“I’m not just talking about safety and comfort, Peaches. I’m talking about us. About building a life together.”

You searched his eyes for any sign of insincerity, but all you found was determination.

“You want me to be your… what, exactly?” You knew, you just still didn’t want to believe it.

Namjoon leaned back slightly, still holding your hands, his thumb brushing against your skin in a soothing rhythm. “I want you to be mine—”

“Mind and body, heart and soul.” Namjoon's voice was low and earnest, each word weighted with sincerity.

You swallowed hard, trying to process the depth of what he was asking. “You mean… you want me to commit completely? To be yours in every sense?”

“And I’ll be yours.” He nodded, his eyes unwavering, filled with a mixture of affection and intensity. You felt a rush of emotions—a blend of excitement and fear.

“I can give you a life where you don’t have to look over your shoulder, where you can focus on what truly matters to you—your dreams, your passions, us.”

The promise of safety and love hung heavy in the air between you, and while the thought was tempting, a part of you still clung to your independence. It would be nice not to work long night hours in a bar full of drunk people to make ends meet. Not walking home with keys in your hand in case someone would jump you over or worse. Not living in a small old rusty apartment with your father who barely brought any income home.

The fire crackled softly, and you could feel the warmth radiating from it, mirroring the warmth blooming in your chest.

“I need time.” Namjoon’s expression shifted, his jaw tightening slightly as he processed your words. But he didn’t let go of your hands. Instead, he brought them to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles, his gaze unwavering.

“Time,” he echoed, the word almost foreign as it left his mouth. “You already had plenty of time.” The firelight cast shadows across his face, emphasizing the intensity etched into every line.

“You think time will change how you feel? Or how much I want you?” You felt a tremor run through you at the weight of his words. It was suffocating and yet strangely comforting, like a trap laced with silk, binding you softly but securely.

“No, Namjoon, I’m just—” Namjoon’s fingers brushed along your jawline, tipping your face up so that you met his gaze directly.

“I get that this must be overwhelming for you, but the time you are asking for is already up and done—”

“I didn’t know it was ticking,” you began, voice barely more than a whisper. Namjoon tilted his head, studying you, his lips quirking into a small, almost understanding smile.

“No more hidden exits, no more plans to escape. I want you here, with me, committed… without looking for a way out. And in return, I’ll take care of you and your father. That’s my promise to you.”

The warmth in his eyes almost made you believe that he meant well, that beneath the possessive intensity was a genuine desire to protect and love. Yet a lingering voice inside you warned that this love would be an all-consuming fire—one that would consume every part of you until there was nothing left to call your own.

Your mind was racing for the answer. If you say yes, you may as well forget who you were, but perhaps you will find yourself where you always wanted to be. Someone. But what if you say no?

“What if I won’t agree, Namjoon?” You asked, scared for the answer. Namjoon’s gaze darkened, the softness slipping away as his grip tightened just enough for you to feel the control he had over the situation. He leaned in, his lips grazing your ear, his voice a low murmur that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Peaches, let's not pretend that you really have a choice here." His tone was calm, as if explaining something simple, obvious, like the inevitability of night following day.

"Your father," he began slowly, each word dripping with calculated weight, "he's in no position to take care of himself, is he? Without you, what would he do? You've been carrying his burden for years, haven't you? Always working to support him, protecting him, making sure he's safe…"

His voice lowered, softening almost to a whisper, but it was filled with a quiet menace. "But if you refuse me… well, who do you think is going to keep him safe then?"

You felt your heart hammer in your chest, dread creeping into every corner of your mind as you took in his words. This was the second time he was threatening your father.

"What is wrong with you?" You said coldly, staring daggers at his pretty face.

"What's wrong with me?" he echoed, voice laced with a faint, mocking laugh. "I'm doing what needs to be done, Peaches. I'm making sure you understand the lengths I'm willing to go to keep you by my side. You think I'd just stand by and watch you slip away? Again?"

He reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch featherlight but loaded with a silent threat. "I know you love your father," he murmured, voice a dangerous purr. "And that's why I'm reminding you of what's at stake."

You felt anger and fear twist inside you. He let his hand fall, watching your reaction with unsettling calmness, as if daring you to resist. Namjoon had you cornered, and he knew it. Every ounce of control you'd thought you held slipped further from your grasp, his quiet threats carving invisible chains around you.

"Why would you put me in this position?" He sighed, his lips curving into a faint, almost pitying smile as he tilted his head, studying you.

"Because I've been loving you for years, and when I can finally have you, you are trying toplay feminist."

The words hit you like a slap, raw and stinging. You swallowed, unable to look away from the intensity in his eyes. That faint smile on his lips held no warmth; it was twisted with something darker, something possessive.

"Play feminist?" you echoed, your voice wavering with anger and disbelief. "Namjoon, wanting to make my own choices doesn't mean I'm defying you or 'playing' anything. It means I'm a person, with my own will—"

He cut you off, a low chuckle escaping his lips as he shook his head slowly, almost as if you'd amused him.

“Peaches, you still don’t understand, do you? I’m offering you a world where you’re safe, where you don’t have to fight every day to survive. You’d rather keep struggling, keep pretending you’re content living in that cramped one bedroom apartment while your father brings home beer money when you are fighting off every hardship, and here I am, ready to give you the life you deserve.”

His fingers gripped your chin firmly, forcing you to meet his gaze as he leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper but laced with conviction.

“You think you want freedom, independence. But freedom isn’t safe, Peaches. Freedom won’t love you like I do. It won’t sacrifice or protect. It won’t give you everything at the cost of its own soul.”

He released you, letting his hand fall away, his gaze darkening. “This isn’t some game, and it isn’t about principles. It’s about us. And if that means you have to surrender some of that so-called independence, then so be it. I know what’s best for you, Peaches. You just need to stop fighting and see that.”

Namjoon’s gaze shifted to something darker, more resolute, as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a small velvet box. The firelight glinted off the soft pink morganite stone, antique piece that must have been in his kin for decades, its delicate beauty a stark contrast to the intensity in his eyes. He held it up, his jaw set, the unspoken command clear in the way he presented it to you.

“Peaches,” he murmured, his voice dangerously calm, “will you marry me?”

Before you could even think to pull away, he took your hand firmly, holding it in place as he slid the ring onto your finger. It was cold against your skin, the weight of it foreign and heavy.

“Say yes.” His voice was low, steady, a dangerous edge lurking beneath the calm exterior. His eyes bore into yours, unwavering, challenging you to defy him. “Say it, Peaches. Agree to be mine, completely, or I’ll make sure you lose everything you’ve been holding onto.”

You felt trapped, his hand tightening around yours as if to remind you of his control over the situation. Your heart raced, your throat dry, as the words hovered on the edge of your lips, unable to escape. But he didn’t let go, his fingers pressing into your skin with an unyielding determination.

“Say it,” he repeated, his voice firmer this time, the softness slipping into something harder, more commanding.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, a feeling of resignation sinking deep into your chest as you stared at the ring, its delicate beauty now a symbol of your surrender.

“Yes,” you whispered, the word barely escaping your lips.

A smile spread across Namjoon’s face, slow and triumphant, as he released your hand, the weight of the ring now settling fully onto your finger. He cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tear that had slipped free, his touch gentle yet possessive.

“There,” he murmured, his voice soft but laced with satisfaction.

“That’s my good girl.”

"Where's my bag?" you start sharply the moment Namjoon walks in, shrugging off the coat from his so-called 'business meeting.' You were obviously not allowed to sit in because women here do not work once they have a ring on their finger. Not like you are dying to be a part of a criminal syndicate that has its roots deeply set in this society. The air between you two is thick, a palpable tension that crackles like static before a storm.

"I looked everywhere, but I cannot seem to find it—"

Successful distilleries may be carrying the Jung name, yet other family members have their own shares of the money capital of the clan, Namjoon not being an exception. His name is presented on each brandy bottle you have had the chance to pour from. But what actually lies under the façade of crystal-clear bottles of whiskey and brandy remains unknown to the upper world.

When you met Namjoon, you didn't see a crime lord. You saw a man with ambition, with a drive that matched yours. But somewhere along the line, his ambition became chains around your wrists, tying you to a life you never chose. That's when you decided that working in Anubis would be only a "college" solution before you would leave the city.

He raises an eyebrow, his expression a mix of surprise and annoyance. "What bag?"

"You know exactly which bag," you snap, stepping closer. Namjoon's eyes darken, his jaw tightening.

"How about we start on lunch?" he suggests, trying to ignore your pleas.

"No," you insist, voice trembling with anger. "I want my bag. I want my money."

"I thought we had settled this last night, didn't we?" he says, his voice low and dangerous.

Your blood boils at his dismissive tone. "Settled? You think you can just placate me and everything will be fine? That money is mine, Namjoon. I earned it."

He steps closer, his presence intimidating but you hold your ground. "Peaches, you ought to be my wife, what's mine is yours. You don't need that money."

You stand firm, not backing down. "Need it or not, it's mine. I worked for it, Namjoon."

Namjoon's eyes narrow, a dangerous glint in them. "You think you can just walk out with that money? You think you can use it to just leave?"

"No, I—" Namjoon steps forward, his eyes cold and calculating. You feel a surge of anger, your hands clenching into fists. "I earned that money, and I deserve to use it as I see fit."

"If you want to spend money, we can go shopping—" His presence overwhelming and oppressive. His words angering you even more.

"SHOPPING?! Are you fucking serious? This isn't about buying things, Namjoon. This is about my life, my choices."

Before you can continue your rambling, he grabs your wrist and pulls you close, his grip like iron. His lips crash onto yours in a bruising, dominating kiss, meant to remind you of his power over you. You struggle, but his hold is unyielding, leaving you breathless and dizzy.

"If you're gonna drop that honorific one more time—" Namjoon's eyes blaze with fury as he keeps you close, his grip almost painful.

"I won't—" you spit out, defiance still burning in your eyes despite the fear gnawing at your insides. "If you give me my money back. I have a right to it." Namjoon laughs coldly, shaking his head.

"Let's just have lunch, Peaches, before I lose my patience completely—" he says, his voice dripping with condescension. You glare at him, refusing to back down.

"Not until you give me my money back." His expression hardens, the cold amusement vanishing.

"You really want to push this, don't you?"

"Yes," you say, your voice unwavering. "Favor for favor, isn't it the mantra y'all go by?" A smirk playing on his lips when you finish the sentence.

"Everything you need, I provide." You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart.

"I worked for that money, Namjoon. I deserve to have control over it."

He steps closer again, his eyes dancing with amusement as he looks down at you. "Control? You want control? Fine," he says, his voice dripping with condescension.

"I've deposited them into an account I opened in your name, joint with mine, naturally," he says, his words carrying that same cool, possessive edge.

"What?" you gasp, your disbelief palpable. "You what?"

"I will give you your black card," he repeats, his lips curling into a taunting smile "—once you prove not to be a flight risk, baby." Namjoon tilts his head, the smirk never fading. This, in essence, means that every single transaction will be noticed. You will withdraw the money from the card—he will know. You will attempt to transfer them to a different account? He will fucking know. The implications hitting you like a gut punch. Your blood runs cold as his words sink in.

"I'm not stupid, Peaches. I know that we gotta work on our relationship." He steps even closer, his gaze intense, pinning you in place. "Let's work on that trust first, and then you can have money at your disposal."

Your heart beats in your throat, the frustration boiling beneath the surface. Trust? The word feels like a cruel joke coming from him.Trust?

"I'm not one of your assets, Namjoon," you spit out, your voice thick with defiance. "And I won't be treated like one." His towering form casting a shadow over you, and for a moment, his eyes soften, as if he's pitying you.

"You don't have a choice, baby." His tone shifts again, dripping with that same chilling calm.

"When you prove you can stay and play nice, then maybe, just maybe, I'll let you have some freedom with your own damn money." And just like that, he's already begun dictating the terms of your life again, his grip on you tighter than ever before.

The missing duffle bag with your money was among the least of your worries when you realized what else the duffle bag possessed.

"You have my passport, Namjoon, how can I run away?" Namjoon's eyes flicker, the amusement fading slightly, but his smirk doesn't falter. He's been expecting this—he always expects everything.

Namjoon's smile is slow, deliberate, almost cruel. "I've taken what I need to keep you close." Namjoon leans in, his breath warm against your ear, his voice low and dangerous.

"But I am not underestimating your spirit."

You're nauseous, the implication of his words settling over you like a weight you can't shake off. He is holding the strings to everything, but that only made you realize that you had a hell of a lot of thinking and plotting to do to get out of here. And the most intrusive thought back in your head, where you consider staying here and embracing this finally official relationship, has to go—quickly.

"So, what now?" you ask, voice trembling despite your best effort to keep it steady. "You plan on keeping me locked up forever, Namjoon-oppa?" Namjoon only smiles, cold and confident.

"No baby. But I will keep you very close, until I can trust you." Your skin prickles where his fingers brush, but you don't pull away. You can't. The need to stay composed, to not give him the satisfaction of seeing you break, fights against the rising tide of rage and fear in your chest.

"And what do you want me to do to earn it, Namjoon?" you ask, your voice steady despite the turmoil roiling inside you. "Beg? Crawl? Pretend everything is fine when it's not?" He tilts his head, studying you like a puzzle he's piecing together in real time. The silence that follows is thick with tension. He stands so close now that you can feel the heat of his body against yours.

"So, lunch it is then?"

His tone is mockingly light, but there's a sharp edge beneath it when he tries to abandon the conversation, the kind that makes you feel trapped.

The black Mercedes hums smoothly along the Bronx streets, its sleek exterior reflecting the gray clouds above. It's going to snow any day now. Inside, the air is thick with tension, an unspoken understanding between the two passengers.

You sit in the backseat, your fingers nervously gripping the edge of your dress, the smooth fabric barely registering under your touch. Your sunglasses hide the unease in your eyes, but the tightness in your chest is something you can't disguise.

Today feels different.

Namjoon sits beside you in the backseat, his gaze fixed ahead, while his hand is warm on your thigh. You are staring at your shoes. Isn't this what you wanted? To ride in an expensive car, wearing Saint Laurent pointy-toed heels? A form-fitting dress with a high neck reveals your figure subtly, and the hungry look Namjoon gave you when you stepped out of the wardrobe did not go unnoticed. Something feels different, as if you're playing dress-up. The allure of the life Namjoon offers, it all feels strangely distant.

You eye him carefully—his black turtleneck is tailored to fit perfectly, sleek and minimalistic. Over it, a black suit jacket, structured but not overly stiff, gives him a commanding presence. His black slacks match the simplicity and power of his look, polished and clean.

The cold air bites against your skin, and you instinctively pull your coat tighter around your shoulders, trying to shield yourself from the chill that seems to creep through the thin fabric of your dress.

"Thank you for letting me see my father," you whisper, your voice barely audible, yet heavy with meaning.

"You don't have to thank me—" he says quietly, his voice low, almost intimate. His gaze doesn't soften, but there's something in the way he stands, commanding yet calm, that makes your heart race. The chill of the early morning seems to deepen, pressing in on you, yet you're acutely aware of the warmth of his presence, the heat of his body just a little too close.

"I couldn't have kept you from seeing him," Namjoon continues, his tone flat, as if he's simply stating a fact.

"But keep in mind that this is a privilege—you misbehave, you won't see him." His eyes lock with yours, not with malice, but with a cold certainty that makes your heart flutter uncomfortably in your chest. The last thing you want now is to provoke him further, to find out just how far his power reaches.

"Engaged?!" disbelief and shock etched into the features of your father when you sat down at the kitchen table after you collected some of the things you wished to take with you. You nod, your heart racing.

"Yes, Dad. It just happened. I wanted you to know first." Your father's gaze shifts to Namjoon, his face a storm of emotions—anger, disbelief, worry.

"Peaches, do you know what you're doing? This man is nearly a decade older than you," he whispers your way, his voice trembling with concern.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "It's not that big, Dad. I know it's a lot to take in, but Namjoon and I—we're serious about this." You never knew how good you were at lying until today. Your father's eyes narrow, his gaze flicking between you and Namjoon.

"When did this relationship even happen? Is he holding you against your will?!" he demands, his tone a mix of frustration and disbelief. Your smile freezes for a moment, and you try your best not to give yourself away.

"No, Dad, that happens only in movies," you reply, attempting a light-hearted tone to deflect his suspicion. Maybe this is what Namjoon meant by earning trust.

Your father's gaze remains hard, but he doesn't push further. Instead, he turns to Namjoon, his voice cold and edged with protectiveness. "You better take care of her, Namjoon. If anything happens to her, I won't forgive you."

Namjoon smiles proudly at you, almost missing your father's harsh words. His confidence in you seems unshaken.

"You have my word," he replies simply, and you take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, staring at the shiny peachy morganite.

You were never religious enough to step foot in a church after you were christened as a baby. Your parents were indifferent to faith, more focused on the struggles of daily life than spiritual obligations. But your now husband-to-be came from very religious kin, and he himself was a God's worshipper. Ironic enough when he managed to break the Ten Commandments before sipping his morning coffee.

His family, deeply rooted in tradition and devout faith, expected nothing less than a grand celebration steeped in religious customs. The thought of walking down an aisle, flanked by stained glass and the scent of incense, felt foreign and overwhelming.

The morning sun poured into the grand church, illuminating the ornate stained glass that depicted scenes of devotion and reverence. As you and Namjoon stepped through the heavy wooden doors, a wave of warmth enveloped you, mingling with the scent of polished wood and candle wax. It felt like stepping into another world, one where faith and family intertwined seamlessly.

You could see familiar faces sitting on the wooden benches. Kim Taehyung smirking your way when he glanced at your hand interlocked with Namjoon's. He was sitting next to Mr. Jung, whom you recognized by his mullet, and the next seat was occupied by the one and only Mrs. Jung, whom you hadn't seen for a good amount of time. There were also some faces that you did not recognize, yet they still felt familiar to you. You couldn't help but notice the way the Kims and Jungs interacted, the warmth of their bonds evident in the way they smiled, laughed, and shared stories during the prayers. Their camaraderie was infectious, and for a fleeting moment, you found yourself longing for that sense of belonging.

As the service began, the congregation settled into a peaceful quiet, the sounds of rustling papers and shifting bodies fading into the background. The priest took his place at the altar, his voice echoing through the high ceilings as he began to speak about love, commitment, and the sacred bonds of marriage. Each word resonated deeply within you, pulling at your heartstrings as you thought of your impending union. As it was explained to you, this Mass was held as the announcement of your engagement—one of many traditions they had.

Namjoon sat beside you, his presence a constant reminder of the promise you had made. You could feel his gaze on you, intense and unwavering, as if he were silently urging you to embrace this new chapter of your life. But the weight of that ring on your finger felt heavier than ever in this moment.

"Love is not merely a feeling; it's a choice," the priest's voice boomed, and you glanced at Namjoon, catching the flicker of expectation in his eyes. "It's a daily commitment to one another, a promise to uphold each other through trials and triumphs alike."

You shifted in your seat, feeling the heat of his gaze on you like a physical presence. You wondered if love really was a choice—or if, in your case, it was a bargain made under duress. Namjoon's grip on your hand tightened ever so slightly, a subtle reminder of the hold he had over your life.

This was the first time he took you out of the penthouse since the day you woke up in his bed for the first time. He simply did not trust you enough to go out in public with you just yet. Hence, his hand remained on yours in a very obsessive manner, as if you were to fly away at any moment.

The priest continued, "Marriage is a sacred bond, one that should be approached with reverence and care. It's not merely about sharing a life together but about supporting and uplifting one another, about being the anchor when the storms come." He paused, letting his words sink in.

Your mind wandered back to your father, the struggles he faced, and how Namjoon had used that vulnerability to secure your loyalty. The contrast between the priest's idealistic views on love and your reality felt stark. How could you ever find true happiness in a union that felt more like a transaction than a partnership? You were feeling heavy.

"And today," the priest announced, raising his voice slightly to draw everyone's attention, "we gather not only to worship but to celebrate the union of two souls destined to walk together."

Your breath caught in your throat, and a mix of emotions surged through you. Murmurs of congratulations rippled through the congregation, and you felt the weight of countless eyes on you, some filled with excitement, others with curiosity. Namjoon's grip on your hand tightened, his eyes gleaming with pride.

You could feel your cheeks flush as the reality of your situation sank in deeper. The ring on your finger felt like a shackle, the promises made a binding contract that left little room for your own desires.

"I—" you started, but the words felt stuck in your throat. "I need to go to the restroom, Namjoon."

His expression shifted, a flicker of concern crossing his face. "Now?" he asked, voice low enough that only you could hear, but firm enough to convey his displeasure. "We're in the middle of the service."

Namjoon hesitated, weighing your request against the backdrop of the ceremony. Finally, he released your hand but leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "Make it quick, baby."

You nodded, grateful for the small bit of freedom. Your Louboutin heels clicked against the marble floor, each step echoing like a drumbeat in the otherwise quiet sanctuary. The sound felt amplified in your ears, a reminder of the attention you were drawing as you navigated through the rows of wooden pews. You could feel the weight of curious gazes following you, some filled with anticipation, others with judgment. It was as if the congregation sensed the tension between you and Namjoon, the unspoken power dynamics playing out in real time.

You pushed open the restroom door and stepped inside. The fluorescent lights cast a stark glare, highlighting the contrast between the serenity of the service and the storm swirling within you.

Leaning against the sink, you took a moment to catch your breath. The reflection staring back at you was a mixture of uncertainty and defiance, a girl caught between two worlds.

"Why am I still here?" you whispered to your reflection, the question echoing back at you. You thought of the life you had envisioned for yourself, one filled with love, laughter, and independence, not one governed by fear and obligation.

"I fucked up." After a few deep breaths, you steadied yourself. You needed to return before he would throw a tantrum, as he loved to do whenever you were away from him for longer than ten minutes. Paranoid bastard. You glanced at your watch and noted that only a few minutes had passed. With a resigned sigh, you turned to leave, determination flooding your veins.

As you exited the restroom, you found Namjoon leaning against the wall outside, arms crossed and an expression that mixed concern and annoyance. His posture was protective, yet the underlying tension in his demeanor sent a shiver down your spine. He pushed himself from the wall only to walk towards you, making you take a few steps back into the restroom. His eyes never left yours even when he closed the door and locked it from inside, the sound echoing ominously in the small space.

The reality of your situation pressed down on you, an oppressive weight that made it hard to breathe. He moved closer, his eyes dark and intent.

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay," he replied when you asked him why he wasn't upstairs, his tone both soothing and authoritative.

"You know how important this day is, right? I can't have you slipping away from me."

You swallowed hard, trying to maintain your composure. "I'm fine. I just needed a moment," you insisted, but the way he watched you made it clear he wasn't convinced.

"You can be honest, Peaches," he said, his voice dropping to a lower, more serious tone. "You're in a room full of people celebrating our engagement, and yet you're out here trying to escape."

His words struck a nerve, and you crossed your arms defensively. "I'm not trying to escape," you shot back, though the lie tasted bitter on your tongue.

"Okay," he said calmly, staring intensely into your eyes, as if he was trying to read you. A small smirk played at the corners of his lips, but the tension in the air remained thick. You did not expect him to drop the topic that quickly.

"I just needed to collect my thoughts," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Okay," he murmured again. He stepped closer, closing the distance between you even more, his body radiating warmth that both comforted and unsettled you. He was standing there, inches away from you, yet he was not taking any action.

"W-why are you so calm, what are you doing, Namjoon?" you asked, trying to grasp his demeanor which you yet again did not understand.

"Waiting—"

"Can we just go back to the ceremony?" you whispered, your voice barely audible. Namjoon's smirk widened, and he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear.

"Not yet, my love," he whispered back, his voice low and husky. Namjoon's fingers traced the curve of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. "I longed to show you just who you belong to for years."

"You're fucking stunning, Peaches," he murmured, his lips brushing against your earlobe. Namjoon's fingers trailed down your chest, stopping just above your breasts. You felt a jolt of electricity run through your body, and you knew that you were in trouble.

"Namjoon," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "We can't do this here, we're in a church." You tried to push him away.

"You are something I can sin for," he whispered back, his voice low and seductive. You tried to pull away, but Namjoon held you firm, his grip unyielding.

"Namjoon, please," you whispered, your voice trembling with desire and apprehension.

But Namjoon was relentless, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin that left you quivering with pleasure. "You're mine, Peaches," he murmured, his lips trailing down your neck.

"And I'll do whatever it takes to keep it that way."

Namjoon's lips found yours, and he kissed you with a passion that left you breathless. His tongue danced with yours, and you felt your body respond to his every touch. As you kissed, Namjoon's hand slid between your legs, and he began to caress you through your dress. You gasped softly, your body arching into his touch, trembling with the sudden pleasure.

"Namjoon," you whispered urgently, "we have to stop." Your breath hitched as he pressed you against the mirror after he lifted you onto the counter, plunging himself between your legs.

"No, we don't," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "Not until I've claimed you as mine."

The church's silence seemed to amplify the intensity of the moment, and you felt like you were teetering on the edge of a cliff. His fingers traced the contours of your body, exploring every curve and crevice.

"What if someone hears?" you breathed again, desperation lacing your voice.

His lips paused just above your collarbone, and you could feel the heat radiating from him. As if the universe was playing by his rules, the choir started to sing. He chuckled.

"You're mine, Peaches. I won't let anyone take you away from me—not today, not ever." He captured your lips again, his kiss deepening with a fervor that ignited every nerve ending in your body.

His hands were exploring the curves of your thighs, lifting the hem of your dress higher as he pressed you firmly against the cold surface of the counter.

"Namjoon," you breathed, a mix of excitement and fear knotting in your stomach. "We can't…" you continued your protests.

"But we will." His fingers danced dangerously close to your most sensitive spots, teasing you with the promise of pleasure. You felt your resolve begin to crumble under his touch.

"I've waited too long for this," he murmured, voice a velvet whisper that wrapped around you like a lover's embrace.

"Namjoon," you gasped against his lips, torn between the heady rush of desire and the urgent need to pull back. But with each kiss, each exploration of his hands, your inhibitions began to melt away, surrendering to the intoxicating pull he had over you.

"Just let go," he urged, a soft growl escaping his lips as he pressed his body into yours, making you acutely aware of the hard length that pressed against your core.

"Trust me."

A wild, reckless part of you craved this intimacy, this connection that felt both exhilarating and terrifying. Your mind took you back to all those moments you shared that made your heart flutter and belly tight when you did not know why he made you feel that way.

You hesitated for a heartbeat, the weight of your reality pressing heavily on your conscience. His fingers found their way beneath your dress, inching higher until they brushed against your most sensitive skin. You gasped, arching your back involuntarily as pleasure surged through you, igniting a fire in your belly.

"Namjoon!" you cried out, a mixture of pleasure and panic lacing your voice.

"Shh, baby," he whispered, his lips trailing down your neck as he continued his teasing exploration. With a deft motion, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, sliding them down your legs and tossing them aside as if they were nothing more than an afterthought. The cool air kissed your exposed skin, heightening your senses and making your breath hitch in your throat.

The air in the restroom felt thick with anticipation, each breath you took mingling with the scent of sandalwood and the faint musk of his skin.

“You’re breath-taking,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with desire.

His fingertips traced closer to where you needed him most, teasing you with the lightest of touches. You bit your lip, trying to suppress a moan that threatened to escape, the heat pooling deep within you almost overwhelming.

“Namjoon…” you whispered, half warning, half plea, torn between your desire for him and the reality of your surroundings.

“—and so wet for me.” He breathed against your skin, his breath sending sparks dancing along your nerves. His tongue danced with yours, a heated exploration that deepened your need for him. The world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you and the intoxicating chemistry that crackled between your bodies.

His fingers pressed against you, expertly coaxing soft moans from your lips as he slid one finger inside, filling you completely. You bit down on your lip to stifle your cries, but the pleasure was overwhelming, radiating out from the point of contact and pooling low in your stomach.

His eyes sparkled with a predatory intensity, relishing in your reaction. He watched you as if he were savouring a fine wine, taking his time to appreciate every detail of your response.

“Namjoon,” you gasped, your voice a fragile whisper, barely able to maintain any semblance of restraint.

“Oppa.” He growled. The way he said it—deep, possessive—made your heart race faster, each beat echoing in the stillness of the restroom. Namjoon’s fingers moved with a deliberate rhythm, curling inside you in a way that sent your mind spiralling.

“Tell me how good it feels,” he commanded, his tone a mix of sultry and demanding, eyes never leaving yours as he watched you unravel under his touch.

You hesitated for a moment, your breath coming in quick gasps as pleasure washed over you. “It feels… amazing,” you managed to whisper, the confession slipping past your lips like a sweet secret. You can regret this later.

“Good,” he murmured, the smirk on his face growing wider. “I want to hear every sound you make.”

His fingers moved faster, building the tension to a near unbearable level, each thrust sending you closer to the brink. The world around you faded completely, leaving just the two of you entwined in this stolen moment of passion, lost in the depths of one another.

“Namjoon. I can’t—” his hand smacked your ass and he deliberately slowed down.

“It’s oppa for you. Don’t make me repeat it again.”

The playful sting of his hand against your skin sent a rush of warmth coursing through you, mingling with the heat pooling low in your belly. His voice was firm, but beneath that authority was a hint of something deeper—a promise that ignited a wild excitement within you.

“Oppa,” you whispered breathlessly, the word slipping from your lips like a spell meant just for him.

He smiled, satisfied, and resumed his movements, fingers working expertly inside you again. The pressure built anew, the delightful tension sending electric shocks through your body.

“Good girl,” he praised, his breath hot against your ear. “I want to hear you, Peaches. Let me know how much you need me.”

With that, he quickened his pace, thrusting his fingers deeper, curling them just right. The overwhelming pleasure began to blur the edges of your consciousness, leaving only the sensations that centred on where he was buried within you. The heat intensified, building towards a sweet, dizzying peak, and you couldn’t help but surrender to it.

With a final flick of his fingers, he found that sweet spot inside you, driving you wild. Your body responded in kind, the sensations intertwining with your every thought. You could feel the tightening in your core, the unmistakable signal that you were teetering on the edge of bliss.

“Namjoon-oppa, I—” you gasped, words failing you as the pleasure escalated.

“Shh, just let it happen,” he murmured, his voice deep and soothing, anchoring you in the moment. His lips met yours in a heated kiss, swallowing your cries as the waves of ecstasy crashed over you.

"Oppa!" you cried against his mouth, unable to contain the raw need bursting forth from within. Your body trembled, the climax washing over you in a torrent of sensations, enveloping you completely as you surrendered to the bliss. The choir's distant hymns created an almost surreal backdrop to this heated encounter, mixing innocence with your burgeoning desire.

As the pleasure receded, leaving you breathless and dazed, Namjoon held you close, his arms encircling you like a protective cocoon. You leaned into him, heart racing and body tingling, reveling in the aftershocks of your release.

"See? That wasn't so hard, was it?" he teased, his voice low and playful, a wicked grin spreading across his lips. "To be mine."

Your blurry eyes lifted to look at him, taking him in while you were still panting from the rollercoaster of emotions he made you feel. Flickering down to his bulge covered by the fabric of his black suit pants from Ralph Lauren, your breath hitched again. Enough for him to move his hands to his belt, being absolutely ready to take you. Finally free of his belt, he pulled down his zipper. The fabric of his pants fell open, revealing the outline of his desire, bold and unmistakable.

The urgency of the moment wrapped around you like a tight embrace, making it hard to think straight. You glanced around, the restroom feeling impossibly small, every sound amplified.

"Oppa, please…" you breathed, your heart racing as you tried to pull away, but the undeniable hunger in his gaze anchored you in place. You could see the determination etched on his face, the way his jaw tightened with lust. He had a plan, and it made your pulse quicken. You were not sure what you were begging for—to stop or to continue?

If not for the soft knock on the door, he would have taken you right there, on the church's restroom counter. It jolted you both, pulling you back to the reality of your surroundings. A rush of panic surged through you, and you instinctively glanced around the cramped restroom, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Oppa," you whispered again, this time a plea laced with desire and uncertainty.

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "Just a little longer," he promised, his fingers finding their way back to your thighs, gripping you tightly as if to keep you anchored to the moment.

"Just one more time," he urged, his voice thick with need. "I need to feel you—"

"Hyung, I know you will kill me for this, but you need to come back upstairs." The voice—familiar and insistent—cut through the haze of desire that had enveloped you both.

Namjoon's expression flickered from lust to annoyance, his grip on you tightening slightly as if to remind you that this moment was still theirs, even if the world outside was intruding.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, his frustration palpable. The intensity in his gaze shifted, but it didn't fade. Instead, it turned into something more predatory, a simmering heat that promised this wasn't over.

"We'll be right there!" He shouted back to the voice behind the door. His eyes slowly returned to watch you and your disheveled form after he fingered the fuck out of you.

He leaned in, his lips capturing yours once more, and it felt like time stood still. The world around you blurred, and for that moment, it was just the two of you—lost in a whirlwind of passion that defied the reality waiting outside the door.

His forehead remained pressed on yours when he whispered to your lips. “Next time, we won’t be so rushed, I promise.” Pecking your lips, he quickly pulled his pants back up, securing his belt with a swift motion, yet the heat of the moment lingered between you both.

The calm shattered in an instant.

The heavy church door burst open with a deafening crash. Armed men in tactical gear stormed in with raised weapons, their shouts filling the air. Namjoon immediately pushed you behind him, his eyes scanning the chaotic scene with deadly focus.

The thunderous crack of gunfire echoed off the stone walls as the air filled with the acrid smell of gunpowder. Namjoon drew a gun from beneath his jacket—like several other family men in attendance—his movements swift and practiced. He returned fire, the muzzle flash illuminating his determined face in bursts of light.

Your heart pounded in your chest like a drum of terror and adrenaline. Huddled behind an overturned pew, you clutched your ears against the deafening noise, eyes wide with shock and fear. Namjoon, breathing heavily, scanned the room one final time before turning to you, his eyes softening for a moment.

"Stay down!" he shouted, his voice barely audible above the chaos.

"Jungkook, get them out!" Namjoon barked, his eyes fixed on the fight.

He reached your side, pulling you up by the arm. Jungkook's grip was firm yet reassuring.

"Come on," he urged, his voice a steady anchor amid the storm of violence. He led you through the chaos, his body shielding you from the worst of the gunfire.

Just as you neared the side door, a sharp pain exploded in your side. You stumbled, a cry of agony escaping your lips. The world seemed to slow, the sounds of battle muffled by the roaring in your ears. Looking down, you saw blood spreading across your dress, the pain intensifying with each heartbeat.

"Peaches!"

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𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐝

©pennyellee. please do not repost

tag list: @hecateslittlewitchling - @ratprincessnr1 - @originalbiscuitfiredreamer - @mggv97 - @urlovelily - @ilys00ga - @beautifulcloudfestival - @herareila @mar-lo-pap

Don't be a silent reader, let's be friends chummers! ♥

see you next time, love, p.

[ordowrites]

kissing you

cw: very suggestive themes, slight yan content with wanderer, self indulgent, overall fluff, afab!reader in some parts (overall, gn! terms used, reader wears make up/dress), terrible flirting. minors dni, mdni. user has a vision.

characters: kaeya, diluc, wanderer, arlecchino, al-haitham

kaeya has been staring at your lips for awhile now - as you talk about something that you ran into while out doing some sort of investigation. it's starting to make you nervous, the way he remains silent, bent down, his eye on your lips and his head tilted to the side.

"captain? are you listening to me? this this hilichurl camp set up nearby and -"

"yes, yes." kaeya says with a wave of his hand. "i'll have some of my people get on it." he pauses now, leaning in closer. you can smell his cologne. "say, did you get a new shade of lipstick?"

"i-uh, yes?"

"hmm." he gently cups your chin with his fingers, tilting his head to the side as he gently kisses you. "aw, it's not flavored this time."

all you can do is stutter before he bends in to kiss you again.

the fall night is warm, you're warm as you wrap your arms around his as the pair of you exit the manor for the night - the party goers dispersing and it's time for you to head home as well. the abundance of wealth diluc has always surprises you, on top of all his connections. he tells you about something, maybe it's another compliment in the list of all the creative ways he tells you how much he loves you, you're not sure but you're tired.

"shall i accompany you home tonight, my love?" diluc asks as he helps you into your carriage. "you are certainly more than welcome to also stay the night."

"ah, but we certainly cannot have rumors flying around just yet." you say with a tired giggle. playing hard to get is one of your favorite things to do - he seems to enjoy the chase some, at least.

"then," he gently takes your hand into his gloved one, those red eyes that always look into your soul and beyond, look into your own, as he presses a kiss to the back of your hand. "get home safe, okay? if you encounter any trouble, do not hesitate to return."

you smile, taking your hand back and bend down (silently delighting into the new height advantage the carriage gives you) and kiss him on the cheek.

"have a lovely night, diluc." yet it takes one more kiss to pull you out of the carriage and back into his manor.

he is irritated, agitated more like, with his pacing back and forth. you sigh and watch him, legs crossed and elbows resting on your thighs. you're getting dizzy at this point, but his frustration is honestly really funny.

all that had to happen was someone complimenting you today and he loses his mind. the entire day, he's been sulking and pouting and grumbling.

"hat guy," you call to him, gently. "are you okay?"

he stops in his tracks, staring dead in your eyes. "no," he grumbles. "i am not." you huff a laugh and shake your head. it's like you blink and he's blocking your view of well - the rest of the living room. you're not exactly sure what's happening, but your shirt is being pulled down and his lips are pressing against the tender skin at the juncture between your shoulder and your neck.

and he bites. you yelp a bit, but he doesn't pull away until there is a bright red mark there.

"you're mine, don't forget that."

"you never let me forget." you grumble as he pushes you down, his teeth sinking into more of your neck.

you are wholly naked after getting out of the bath, and sitting between arlecchino's legs, on her bed, as she brushes your hair. she admires every inch of you, on a daily basis. whenever you ask about her doing your hair, she simply tells you that she enjoys it and should she not pamper her loved one? so you always drop the subject and lean into this momentary peace in her chaotic life. the candle flickers some, its flame casting a gentle glow in the bedroom.

a clawed hand rests on your thigh and you peek at the full length mirror, she's set the brush down.

warmth blossoms through you as she kisses the back of your neck, trailing kisses down along your spine until she reaches midback. after a moment, she's tugging at your hair, forcing you to lean your head back as she kisses you on the lips.

"you're very beautiful." she murmurs.

"you tell me that often." you tell her with a little giggle. she hums softly.

"not often enough." she declares, her hand reaching for the brush again. "i believe i should praise you more. you are a good girl, after all." your face reddens at that and she looks even more pleased. another kiss is pressed to the side of your neck before she resumes her previous task.

you talk too much, al-haitham has told you many times - you like to visit him in his office at lunch every day, just to ramble on and on. you like to think he's listening, but with his eyes always glued on his book, you're never sure. but that never stops you (nor does it ever stop kaveh, the poor man sometimes stresses himself out over his roommates indifference). oh, you do this to annoy him most of the time, but lately, it's just scheduled and expected.

"and can you believe-"

your words are cut off when his lips meet yours, your eyes widen when he pulls away. you're stunned as you sit down on the comfortable couch, trying to comprehend what just happened.

"do you hear that?" he asks you after a moment.

"no. what should i be hearing?"

"the sound of sweet silence." al-haitham finally answers, and you finally look at him, while his eyes are glued to the book, he has a smug look to his face. oh this asshole.

[miabebe]

Camp Seventeen: Chapter 2

Pairing - Afab!reader x ot13 (Soonyoung x reader x Minghao for this Ch)

Word count - 13K

Genre - Greek Demigod AU! We’ve got crack, smut, fluff , angst, hurt, comfort, all of it in this series, buckle up!

Previous chapter

Chapter summary - As you delve deeper into the world of the demigods, a party throws you spiraling down a road less taken. While it seems there's one member who may be able to help you with it, there's another you want to lend a hand to. And more.

A/n - I do have a taglist so comment on this post to be added! And if you enjoyed reading, please don't forget to leave feedback in the comments or tags - we've got lots of chapters to go and hearing thoughts really helps <3

Smut warnings - I'm trying this thing where I won't be adding any detailed warnings as of now now, I will be including them after 1 week instead! I'm trying to keep the suspense for those who are interested but I understand there might be some of you who are wary of reading certain things - I will be adding warnings for your sake in a week's time! (There are no trigger warnings for this fic though!)

(edited) - Sexual tension phew, fingering (f.receiving), male masturbation, oral (m.receiving), threesome, sub-ish Soonyoung, dom Minghao, slight mlm? (feeding her cum), couple of spanks, unprotected sex (plis refrain), they're kinda rough - she's struggling to breathe, Minghao is mean and a bit of a sadist, deepthroating, edging, marking, hickies, sloppy seconds, they both finish inside her, I think that's about it?

Today you slept with both the windows and the curtains closed. 

Not just Seungcheol's eagle, even the late morning sun couldn't wake you up, leading to you casually strolling into the dining hall, late in the day. As you walked in, still dressed in your pajamas, twelve heads turned towards you, following your every step. 

Seokmin turned towards Seungcheol who's gaze was fixed on his food, like it was adamant not to meet yours. Hesitating, the former cleared his throat, taking one for the team, questioning you instead.

“You uh….didn't come to train today.”

“Yes, I didn’t.” 

Walking in, you grabbed a banana from the fruit bowl and sat as far away from Seungcheol as possible. If anyone noticed the hostility between the two of you, they didn't say anything. Seokmin looked at you like he was expecting to hear more - then he realised that was all you had for an answer. 

“Why didn't you…...” 

“I got wet in the rain last night.” You munched on your fruit. “Felt sick in the morning.” 

A part of you expected at least one of them to have the decency to ask you how you were doing now but all the boys simply exchanged looks. As you frowned at them confused, Joshua finally looked at you. “Demigods don't fall sick Y/n.” 

You blinked. “What?” 

“We're half gods, so uh…. stuff like bacteria and viruses don't really have an effect against us.” 

Suddenly, at that point, the last 25 years of your life made a little more sense - you realised you hadn't ever fallen sick. You also realised that last weekend when you offered to watch a movie with Seungcheol because the two of you were alone in the house, he had declined, stating he had a cold and didn't want to pass it on. 

Of course he lied. All that man did was lie. 

Scoffing, you shook your head. “Of course we don't.”

“Is there a problem?” Minghao narrowed his eyes at you conspicuously. “Any particular reason you couldn't or didn't want to come?” 

Sighing, you shook your head. “It's just been hard getting used to things, I'm trying but-” 

“There's no room for but Y/n.” Seungcheol finally spoke, looking up. “Quest season is approaching and we cannot have a weak link on the team.” 

“Cheol.” Jeonghan cautioned, looking at him just a little sternly. “Enough.” 

Seungcheol stared back at Jeonghan like he wanted to retort but when the latter shook his head at him, he got up, throwing his plate into the sink a lot louder than anyone had expected. 

If Chan hadn’t muttered that the cab was ready to leave, you would have exploded - how dare he? He was the one who hinted at something more last night and he was the one who had left you in the middle of the storm so why was he behaving like this was your fault?? But before you could say anything, Seungcheol and the members going for morning shifts grabbed their things and set out for the day, unusually quietly. As Mingyu began to follow the crowd, you held him by his wrist, 

“Where are you going? You don’t have work today?” 

“Are you keeping tabs on me, newbie?” Mingyu bent down, smirking at you. “Can I consider you interested?” 

“Your schedules are on the white board genius.” You rolled your eyes, letting him go and pointing at it. “We need to talk.” 

Mingyu frowned, both confused and curious. 

“The house Gyu, my house. I have a final plan for it.” 

“Oh! Okay sure let’s go-” 

“Wait.” Joshua stood up shaking his head. “I don't know what's going on with you Y/n, but unlike Cheol, I cannot walk away from what I am responsible for in this camp. You're going to put that fruit down-” He pointed at the plum you just reached for. “-go shower, have a full breakfast and then you can sit with Mingyu and finalise whatever you have to.” 

��But Shua-” 

“No.” He said in a tone that you knew meant that this was not open for any more discussion as he turned towards the man who was stuffing his face with cereal. “And Kwon Soonyoung, why are your sheets still in the dryer?” 

Oh fuck. 

Soonyoung looked at you confused - you had completely forgotten about that.

“I uh couldn't carry them back in the rain last night.” He muttered, drinking the last of his milk straight from the bowl, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I'll take them now.” 

“Why did you need to wash your sheets in the middle of the night?” Hansol frowned at the man beside him sceptical and Soonyoung glanced at you but you were suddenly deeply interested in some random crack on the table surface. 

“I was bored and jerked off.” Soonyoung washed up his bowl, shaking the water off his hands. “It was a good one.”

Hansol groaned disgusted and you looked at Soonyoung scandalised as he shot you a cheeky wink before disappearing out of the hall. A part of you was kind of relieved - you were worried after last night, especially considering what he said as you were leaving. Perhaps you heard it wrong because Soonyoung seemed just as relaxed as ever, like nothing had changed. 

You were thankful for that - now things could go back to like they were before. 

Or could they? Because Jihoon was yet again looking at you like he knew everything

“This is your final plan?” 

“Yes.”

“Isn't this the first plan you had made?”

“Yes.”

“Y/n,” Mingyu groaned. “If you wanted to do this we could have finalised it days ago.” 

“I told you, I was confused about the whole bathroom situation.” You muttered, tracing mindless patterns over the floor plan. “Let's just make the residence alone. I'll adjust with the common showers.”

“We can still arrange to build a bathroom for you.” Joshua glanced at the papers. “Since we have to divert water pipes, it'll just take a little longer-” 

“No.” You gripped the pencil tight. “I don't want anything that takes a little longer. I want this house made as soon as possible so I can shift to my own space.” 

Your adamance was definitely new but neither boys commented on it. Instead Mingyu pulled out his phone and scrolled through clumsily.

“I need to place an order for the brick and cement and sure Chan has got a decently sized cab but it's going to take a couple of trips to bring the whole load.” He sighed, not looking up. “It's going to take a couple of weeks to get the house ready-”

“No, no no.” You shook your head. This couldn't be happening. “I need my own house as soon as possible, Mingyu….” You looked away rambling as both men frowned. “I'm in my final year, I've uh got projects and submissions to work on. The library isn't well lit enough to study all night and Seungcheol's house is too far from the charging station in the Great Hall, I can't keep making such long trips just to charge my laptop? What if it rains like last night again? What if all my stuff gets wet and-”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” Mingyu set his phone down and tried to calm you down. “Though if those are your concerns, you can move into my house. I live close to the Great hall and I have a loft - you won’t have any issues there.”

Oh no. No no. You weren't about to fall from the frying pan into the fire. 

“No Mingyu, what I need is my own space, like every other member of the camp.” You sighed. “And I know it's a lot to ask but I hope we can be done with it fast.” 

“I really wish I could help Y/n.” He looked at you pitifully. “You’re an architect, you know the kind of time it takes to build a house. Maybe if you had opted for something simpler, like a wooden cabin-” 

“Can you build that faster?” 

“I mean we do live in the middle of a forest and I do have automations to cut trees-” 

“How long will a wooden cabin take?”

“A few days.” Mingyu rubbed his chin in thought. “Provided it doesn't rain or-” 

“Do it.”

Both men looked surprised. 

“You're sure?” Joshua spoke up this time. “Wooden homes tend to feel colder, it would also be harder to-”

“I'm sure.” You nodded, gathering the sheets. “I'll have to make a few amendments to the layout then you can start. Meanwhile, why don't you go ahead now with the….. wood gathering?”

Mingyu nodded, stuffing his phone into his pocket, resting his face on his interlocked hands. 

“What're you waiting for Mingyu?” 

“Now as in right now??”

“Yes right now.” You looked at him like it was obvious. “Please.” 

Joshua nodded, signalling Mingyu to leave and grumbling, the bigger man left, much to your relief. Just a few more days. You could handle a few more days with Seungcheol, right? 

“You cannot.” Joshua turned to you. “You cannot survive with a group of people if you don't communicate Y/n. Do you want to tell me what's going on?”

You let out a deep breath considering it for a minute but then shook your head. “It's not worth discussing. I'll deal with it on my own.”

“Well you better do it fast because,” Joshua pulled out a sheet from his bag and slid it across the table to you. “Things are about to get a lot more hectic.”

You were too scared to extend your hand and reach for that paper. Good god, what else was in store for you. 

“Seokmin and Minghao are already covering physical training for you but being a demigod is so much more than just combat - you need to learn about this world, about its people, about the laws that govern it.” He looked at you apologetically. “I've drafted a schedule where the members will cover these different areas with you. Of course you will have time for your own obligations but you will also have to strictly adhere to the rest…..” 

Joshua's words trailed off as your eyes landed on the timetable and the names scribbled on them.

You counted 12 names, all the members were scheduled to help you except- 

“Wonwoo.” You breathed out. “His name isn't….here?” 

“Yeah…” Joshua scratched the back of his head. “Wonwoo isn't really available for stuff like this, he's got other things to do….” 

Of course he did. He was a top secret government official, he did guard duty at night, he was working on your case too, you could understand that he was busy. 

But what you didn't understand was why he always ignored you. Even earlier when you popped into the showers forgetting that Wonwoo usually washed himself much after everyone, you had in fact, caught him butt naked. 

Any normal person would've covered himself up or at least responded to your small scream, quick turn and innumerable apologies but Wonwoo? He simply grabbed a towel, wrapped himself and walked straight past you into the locker rooms like you didn't even exist, the trademark scent of his perfume the only thing lingering behind. 

“Y/n where are you lost?” 

You shook your head. “I was just thinking about how the bath house would've been more efficient if the showers were attached to the locker room so we didn't have to walk so far in a towel to change.” 

Joshua looked at you like he didn't understand a word you were saying. Or why you were saying it. 

“It's just…. I'm just being an architect, don't bother.” You shook your head then the paper. “Thank you for this.”

“No worries.” He smiled sweetly, getting up, leaving you to your breakfast. “I see your first lesson is History of the Gods. Unfortunately I think Chan is busy with some delivery in the evening so, it'll be just you and Jihoon. I hope you'll attend the lesson earnestly.”

You nodded, giving him a hard smile. 

How were you supposed to last 2 hours with a man who read you like an open book? 

The darkness behind your closed eyelids was supposed to be comforting. That's why you were lounging in your chair, half asleep while waiting for Jihoon to show up. But somehow, it felt like you were being watched and sure enough when you opened your eyes, the face of your instructor of the day was inches away from you.

“Jesus Christ Jihoon…” You sat up scrambling, pulling yourself away from him. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“You're tired.” He tucked his hands in his pockets walking back. “I was wondering if I should let you rest-” 

“I'm fine.” 

“-but it's strange considering you skipped training and slept all morning, yet you're incredibly sleep deprived.” Leaning back against the table he looked at you amused. “What might have happened last night that exhausted you so?” 

Words refused to leave your mouth considering you didn't know if he was teasing you or actually concerned. Given the last few days you assumed it was the former and ignored him as you began closing all the books you had strewn on the table before you. 

“I see you're doing pre reading.”

“Chan gave these to me before he left for work. He said I should read to understand better.” 

“Did you?” 

Of course you didn't. You were almost snoring away and Jihoon saw that, yet he asked the question like he wanted you to feel embarrassed about the answer. 

“I thought you were supposed to teach me.” You shut the last book and glared at him. “If you just expect me to just read off a book, I don’t see why you’re required here.” 

“Are you suggesting I leave my own class?” He raised his eyebrow amused. “I’m going to have to disappoint you but unlike some, I take what I’m told at camp seriously.” 

You glared at him like you were contemplating throwing the book straight at him and you almost did when he walked around the table, sat down on the chair and cocked his head at you. 

“For someone who is the daughter of Hestia, hospitality isn't really your trait is it?  

“How would I know, aren’t you supposed to be teaching me about this God stuff?” 

“I am.” He nodded, crossing his arms. “But it depends on how much the mortal world has already taught you.” 

“I’ve never really bothered myself with Greek mythology.” You rolled your eyes. “They’re just stories for bored children.” 

“Except they aren’t. They are your reality.” 

“Not by choice.” You mumbled. You did not wish to be an outcast in the only world you knew and thrown here. You did not wish for any of this. 

“Parentage is no one’s choice.” Jihoon sighed. “But to be a demigod is a gift. It’s a shame that you disregard your power.” 

“What power?” You scoffed. “I don’t have any….” Trailing off you gulped. 

That was a lie. 

“I am the Son of Apollo which means I was there at the Court of Delphi when the Oracle assigned you.” Jihoon reminded you of the fateful night.

The night when a couple of masked men had forcibly picked you from your dorm, throwing you into a large room of unknown people and a round crystal in the middle on an altar. No sooner than you took a scared, confused step forward it spoke - Daughter of Hestia, Camp Seventeen. 

“The Oracle only recognises those who have God's blood. So if you’re telling me you don’t have any powers and this is all a mistake, you must think I’m an idiot.” 

“If you’re so smart-” You narrowed your eyes at him. “-why don’t you do that mind reading thing you do and figure out what my powers are?”

“I can’t read minds Y/n,” Jihoon looked at you quizzically. “I’m not Athena’s progeny.” 

“Y-you can’t? But all these days…..” You blinked at him confused. “Oh my god, can Jeonghan??” 

He shook his head. “Neither can Jeonghan. Not all of Athena’s children are mind readers. I’ve only ever come across one in my life and if she wasn’t busy shuffling through everyone’s brain in the quest, perhaps she wouldn’t have been killed.” 

You opened your mouth and then shut it, unsure which of the hundred questions in your mind to ask first. 

“If you really must know, my father is the God of Medicine which makes me a natural healer.” He leaned back with a small smile. “I don’t read people’s minds but their bodies. I can tell when one is sick, or hungry….or even horny.” 

You gulped, feeling your heartbeat raise. Could he tell that too? 

“It goes without saying that a demigod's powers are associated with their parentage. So as the daughter of the Goddess of Hearth and Home, I’m assuming you have some sort of bond with fire.” 

Tightening your fists, you refused to meet his eye. 

It made sense why you never told anyone in the human world about your ability to create fire out of thin air but somehow you couldn’t bring yourself to tell anyone in the demi-world either. 

You had seen the powers the boys had - Seokmin was the son of Posiedon, God of the Sea, but he couldn’t create water, only bend it. And Mingyu? His father was the literal God of Fire and even he was only immune to flames. 

But you, birthing fire from thin air? Something told you that even in the world of demigods, the world where you belonged, you were a freak.

“Or maybe I’m an architect because of you know, the ‘home’ bit.” 

“I don’t think so. Your college preference is pretty much just a personal interest.” 

“Then I guess I don’t have any powers.” You shrugged. “Maybe the Oracle made a mistake.” 

“The Oracle isn’t human. It never makes mistakes.” 

“Then maybe my powers are too insignificant for us to care. I mean think about it - what can the daughter of such a goddess have to offer? I most definitely don’t have anything of value.” 

Jihoon stared at you like he had too many thoughts. 

“Do you know the life cycle of a demigod?” 

You shook your head confused about where he was going with this.

“Not everyone born half breed inherits powers and even if they do, it is dormant until puberty. At the ages of 16 to 18, demigods are at their highest energies which gives them an aura that makes them instantly identifiable - the stronger their abilities, the stronger the aura. After they are picked either by their parents or our scout force, they’re taken to the Oracle who puts them in camp where they will be best suited to train and learn to harness their powers. If a demigod isn’t placed in camp by 18, you best believe that they are dead.” 

“Huh?” You blinked. “Why is that?” 

“Because either the inability to handle their own powers will kill them or in rare cases, monsters.” 

“M-monsters?” 

“There’s always good and bad in the world. Where you have gods, you have monsters too.” Jihoon opened one of the books to a page filled with sketches of the most gruesome creatures you’d ever seen. “Most of our predecessors have already locked up many of these in the Underworld but there are still some out there, lurking around. If they sense an aura and you aren’t trained for combat, you don’t stand a chance.” 

“So you think because I’ve managed to survive the last seven years, on my own and untrained, I am powerful?” You frowned. “Did you consider the fact that perhaps my aura was so weak no one could detect me?” 

“I did. That was my first assumption till the Oracle.” He leaned onto the table. “Even Gods have to touch the orb for a reading but your mere presence lit her up Y/n. Your aura isn’t weak, it’s different and my guess is it has something to do with being Hestia's daughter.” 

You hummed, trying to make sense of things. “Well, did the same thing happen with her other children?” 

Jihoon shook his head. “We don’t know. Unfortunately for us, there are no other known children of Hestia - you are the first ever.” 

You stared at him, letting the weight of his words sink in. 

“I’m her only child?” 

Jihoon nodded slowly. 

If that were true, the whole of last week made no sense. Ever since you had discovered the temple, you had been trying to reach out to your mother every other hour. You assumed she might have been busy or probably had too many places to be to tend to you, but to learn that you were her only progeny and she still didn’t care hurt differently. 

Scoffing sadly you shook your head. “What kind of mother doesn’t care about her only child?” 

“One who is not proud of her momentary lapse of judgement.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Jihoon sighed. “Hestia is one of the three virgin goddesses, along with Artemis and Athena. She’s not supposed to have any offspring, much less one with a human. If anything, you are a walking talking symbol of her weakness.” 

“I am her child-” 

“In theory.” Jihoon emphasised. “But in reality, you’re merely a fragment of her.” 

“I don’t understand.” 

“Humans and Gods don’t mix Y/n. Hell, even humans and demigods can’t.” 

“I’m aware.” 

Jihoon took a pause before he narrowed his eyes at you playfully. “Why and how are you aware of that?” 

“Irrelevant.” You brushed off. “But if what you’re saying is true, how can demigods even come to be?” 

“Because it’s not unlike even the Gods to succumb to lust. At any time they feel particularly attracted to a human they enchant their partners.” When you frowned like you didn’t understand, he sighed and continued. “Enchantment is what we call the process of gods…to crudely put it, possessing people. Taking over their bodies, controlling them.” 

Your jaw dropped. 

“You mean they possess one person to have sex with another???” 

“Well, sometimes it’s just sex but sometimes it is love. They stay on Earth for years together till the lesser gods aren’t able to handle things and they are forced to go back.” Jihoon got up, pacing around the room. “Demigods are born to two human parents who are completely unaware about what happened with them and what their child actually is.” 

“Wow” You breathed out dumbfounded. “You mean to say I have two parents in the Mortal world and one sitting in Olympus-” Jihoon nodded. “-and neither of them care about me?” 

Jihoon looked at you like you had given him more information than he asked for. 

“I can’t speak for your mortal parents but as far as Gods are concerned, they don’t really care about their half human children…… unless they are powerful.” He locked his arms behind his back. “Demigods train for years to become worthy of their parents' attention.” 

“So being a demigod isn’t really a gift after all.” 

Sighing, Jihoon sat down beside you. “You can’t allow yourself to be governed by emotions Y/n. You are the result of a God’s lack of resistance to impulses - those who sit in Olympus have their own flaws. If you run your whole life seeking their validation, you will keep running. They will keep you running.” 

“What do I do then?” You blinked at him lost. “I think I have more than one question I want to ask the woman because of whom my life is a mess. How do I get her to notice me?” 

“Play it smart. First, learn about our world and the things that shape it. Understand how Olympus works - what the God's weaknesses are, what ticks them off, what will bring them on your side.” He turned to you. “If you play your cards right, trust me, your mother will come looking for you in no time.”

Letting out a deep breath, you whispered hesitantly. “Will you teach me how?” 

Smiling in a way that made your stomach turn a lot differently than it used to for Jihoon before, he nodded. “I'd love to.” 

You didn’t even realise when your supposed two hour session with Jihoon dragged on till after the sun had set. 

By the end of it, you had a book full of notes stuffed in your backpack and a head full of information that your instructor had filled. As you stepped out of the library building, Jihoon offered to walk you back to Seungcheol’s house given it was nightfall and as much as you wanted to continue talking to him, you politely refused. You weren’t ready to face that man just yet but just as you began walking towards the Great Hall to grab a snack or two, your eyes fell on Jeonghan and Seungcheol whispering away near the trees. 

As you skidded to a stop in your path, they turned towards you, both surprised and relieved by your presence. When you noticed Jeonghan nudge Seungcheol making him take a step towards you, you immediately walked back, knocking into someone behind you, earning a shriek. 

“Watch it rookie.” Seungkwan muttered as you apologised under your breath. From the corner of your eye, you noticed a couple of the guys standing fully dressed like they were headed out to a party. 

“Y/n.” Seungcheol took another step, trying to get your attention again. “We need to talk-” 

“I can’t,” You walked over to the boys, placing yourself right in the middle of the group. “I’m going out tonight.” 

“Dressed like that?” Seungcheol raised his eyebrows, looking up to down at a really old t-shirt you had donned over a pair of worn out shorts. 

“Funny that a man who pairs socks with sandals is judging me about my outfit.” 

Behind you the boys snickered, glancing down at Seungcheol’s feet. 

“That’s not my point-” 

“Can you drop my bag in my room?” You looked over the leader’s shoulder at his sidekick. “Since you love roaming around that house anyways.” 

Jeonghan caught the bag you threw to him, sighing as he swung it over his shoulder. 

“Well, that would make a total of eight of us..…” Seokmin looked around, doing a headcount. “Dino’s car can take us all but it will be a bit congested-” 

“I can take my bike.” Mingyu offered, running his hands through his hair. “It’ll be more convenient for you guys and-” 

“Can I ride with you?” You turned to Mingyu, looking at him just a little pleadingly. 

Even though you were on the way to a party, you weren’t in the mood to be stuffed in a small car with a bunch of guys right now - all you wanted was some air and space away from Seungcheol. 

Shooting you a small smirk, Mingyu nodded, just in time for his mechanical bull to jog over, modifying into a slick bike the moment it neared him. As he got on, you followed him, gripping his shoulders as you clambered on. 

“Hold tight.” 

Wrapping your arms around his waist, you glanced at the two boys left behind - Seungcheol’s jaw was tight and Jeonghan looked mildly curious, eyes darting where your body pressed up against Mingyu’s back. You could tell the normally cocky Mingyu did seem slightly tense under your touch, perhaps because you were not wearing a bra and he could feel everything very clearly. 

“Shall we?” He muttered, turning on the engine. 

Sighing, you nodded, a part of you well aware that tonight was most definitely going to be a long night. 

“Let’s go.” 

“I’ve been to funerals better than this.” 

You muttered to Seokmin about fifteen minutes after reaching the house that the boys had brought you to for the night. Your expectation had been that of a frat party, one with pizzas and chips and dip and booze instead you were looking at a living room filled with pink balloons, rose gold streamers and french appetisers. 

“Wait till Soonyoung’s alcohol goes around.” Seokmin half giggled, grabbing a canape from the table. “Things always get so much fun after that.” 

You watched the man in question pulling out some bottles from his pockets, handing them over to some boys at the corner of the room. 

The moment Chan’s car had stopped at the location, all the boys had practically disappeared. Seungkwan headed over to a bunch of people Mingyu said were some of his very close friends. No sooner than he said that, he too disappeared as did Chan, Soonyoung and Mingao. The only ones who remained by your side were Seokmin and Joshua but just as you stepped into the house, a couple of girls pulled Joshua away, leaving you with your current company. 

“Why do I feel like something about Soonyoung’s alcohol is sketchy?” 

“Maybe because it’s an illegal blend?” Seokmin shrugged before realising what he had let slip. “You cannot tell anyone. Everyone in camp will kill him and Soonyoung will resurrect and kill me.” 

Laughing you shook your head, grabbing a cracker and topping it with brie, stomach rumbling due to the lack of dinner. 

“You don’t have to keep me company Seokmin.” You turned to the man who was sweet enough to stay by your side. “I don’t wanna ruin your night.” 

“It’s no big deal.” He muttered, putting himself between you and a drunk guy leaning over you to grab a drink from the table. “I know you don’t know anyone here-” 

“I’m not looking to socialise anyways.” You confessed, piling a bunch of stuff on your plate. “I’m just going to sit outside and grab a bite in, hopefully, some peace and quiet.” 

“Oh.” Seokmin looked a little upset, like he wanted to hang out with you but before you could tell him that you didn’t mind his company, Mingyu popped by out of nowhere, pulling his friend by the elbow and dragging him away excitedly. Chuckling, you got back to piling your plate. 

“You worked up an appetite.” 

You turned to see Soonyoung hovering behind you, hands tucked in his pocket. 

“Yeah….” You shoved a spoonful of cold but nevertheless tasty pasta salad into your mouth. “Apparently spending three hours learning about Greek gods can really drain you.” 

“Jihoon can be a bit intense with teaching.” Soonyoung laughed, nonchalantly wiping the cream at the edge of your lips with his thumb. “The trick is to remind him about his workout. He'll drop everything and run.” 

“Huh.” You laughed uncertainly before struggling to swallow your bite and turning to him. He stared at you stuffing your mouth with an expression you couldn’t quite read. 

“Soonyoung we…. “ You swallowed. “We didn't get to talk about last night.”

“Oh.” Soonyoung blinked. “What about it?”

About what he said. About if you heard it right. About if he meant it. 

“About if whatever happened was…. of any use with Mina?” You diverted like a coward.

“I uh haven't spoken to her yet.” Soonyoung confessed, scratching the back of his head. “Surprisingly I haven't returned any of her calls.”

“Why is that?” 

“I don't know.” He looked at you intently. “I don't feel like doing it.”

“Is there…” You whispered softly, wondering if you should even be asking this. If you were ready for his answer. “....something else you feel like doing?”

Soonyoung nodded, his tongue running across his lower lip, his eyes darting to your mouth. Just as it seemed like he leaned in, out of nowhere, the most beautiful girl you had ever seen, threw her arms around Soonyoung's neck, pulling his mouth to hers instead. 

“Hoshi.” She mumbled against his lips, pressing her body up against him not so subtly. 

You weren't sure why exactly you were continuing to watch the two people before you shoving their tongues into each other's mouth but perhaps that's how shock worked. Though you didn't have the intention of continuing anything at all with Soonyoung, something about being interrupted this way stung differently. 

By the time they had separated, you had chugged an entire can of beer, crushing the metal in your hand.

“And who might this be?” She looked at you, pushing her hair back. 

“She's the new member of camp seventeen Y/n,” He pointed between the two of you, “Y/n, this is Mina, my uh….”

“Girlfriend.” She smiled, with an unbelievably perfect set of teeth. “So the rumours are true. The infamous all-boys-celibate camp finally has a female presence. Tell me,” Her eyes glowed. “Have you gotten your eyes on any of them? Or even better,” She lowered her voice. “Have you gotten your hands on any of them already?”

You looked at Soonyoung, utterly uncomfortable. 

“Mina, you can’t ask such things-”

“Why not? It'll be between just us girls-” 

“Please.” He pulled her back. “Last I saw you, we broke up and now you just waltz back and-” 

“I know, I know. We never should have broken up in the first place. That whole fight was stupid.” She pouted, wrapping her arms around him tighter. “Forget about it Soonyoung-” 

“Forget about it?” His expression was of disbelief. “So you don't have anything to say to me?” 

She looked away, pretending like she was thinking before turning back to him with a smirk. “Yes, I do. I didn't wear any underwear today.” 

Inwardly groaning you stared at the design of the tile hoping the ground would just swallow you instead. You wanted to get the fuck out of here since this conversation was of no interest to you but moving was impossible with both their intertwined figures blocking the way. 

“Come on Soonyoung, it's been so long and I'm in the mood tonight. The bedrooms on the second floor won’t be free for long.” 

Soonyoung’s adam's apple shifted, his words stuck somewhere there as Mina held him by the wrist and began leading him away. As he was dragged off, you expected him to turn and shoot you a grateful look, instead, he looked at you wistfully. 

Your plan was simple - stuff your face with all the incredibly bougie food, catch some air in the patio away from all the noise and then leave with the boys whenever they were ready to go. Instead here you were, your plate somewhere unattended while you were gripping the edge of the sink, leaning over it, chest heaving as you stared into the mirror. 

Now you knew you weren’t supposed to be hogging the washroom for this long but you couldn’t bear to go out. One, you didn’t want to see Soonyoung and his girlfriend again - especially if she was going to be all over him like a leech because something about that sight made your stomach turn violently. And two, you were somehow, for no reason at all, incredibly wet.

Perhaps it was because suddenly, everyone in the party was quite literally all over each other, or because you were thinking about what happened in Soonyoung’s residence this time yesterday, or because you were just plain desperate to have something, anything inside you. 

Last night awakened something in you that you didn’t know existed and now nothing seemed to satiate the beast. Chiding yourself for being out here when you could have been in your own room, having your way with Soonyoung’s toy or your own fingers maybe, you gripped the sink tighter, feeling your heart rate rise unprompted. It was getting harder and harder to stay modest. 

The only thing that stopped you from putting your hand down your pants in a house full of sixty people on the other side of the door, was the knock on it. 

“What part of I am throwing up in here do you not- Oh!” You gasped, walking back as the door flung open and in stepped a slightly inebriated Chan. “What are you doing!?” 

“You won’t open the door….” He slurred. “It’s been so long, Seokmin was worried.” 

“How the hell did you open three locks….” You stared at the door as he slowly shut it behind him. 

“My father is the God of thieves. Are you really surprised that I can open any lock and any door?” 

“I guess not.” You muttered, sitting down on the edge of the bathtub. “But you didn’t need to, I was going to come out-” 

“You’ve been in here for over 20 minutes.” Chan crossed his arms, leaning against the wall. “I thought you passed out or something.” 

“I wish.”

Passing out would be much better than whatever was going on between your legs. 

“You don’t look like you’re enjoying the party.” 

“I’m not. I’m just waiting for us to head back.” 

“Then why ask to tag along?” He raised his eyebrow. “Does it have anything to do with the hostility between you and Seungcheol?” 

“So you noticed.” 

“I think everyone did.” Chan chuckled. “Do you want to tell me why or should I guess?” 

“Shoot your shot.” 

Chan shrugged all knowingly, “He rejected you.” 

You looked up at the boy before you so fast, you nearly fell back thanks to the inertia. 

“W-what makes you think that?”

“Sons of Zeus and Daughters of Aphrodite have a natural tendency to attract the opposite sex.” He stated like it was obvious. “Seungcheol has women swooning over him like they're in some sort of trance. He doesn't really care for them because he knows it's a mere chemical attraction thanks to his dad. Instead he just ignores them or if things get unbearable, he breaks their hearts so they snap out of it.” 

You knew Chan had to be quite tipsy to so bluntly place you in the list of women Seungcheol had rejected. It wasn't like that was it? Yesterday in the rain, he had hinted his feelings for you, he almost kissed you but….. what about what you were feeling? Was this irresistible attraction you felt towards him nothing but chemical? 

Considering how you had been feeling since Mina wrapped herself all over Soonyoung…. You wouldn't have felt that if your heart was set out on Seungcheol right? 

Then again….. it was Seungcheol’s name that left your mouth as you orgasmed yesterday. 

Staring at the floor you shook your head slightly. You could not think about last night again, not with how soaked you already were at the moment. 

“Hey,” Chan inched closer, putting his finger under your chin, lifting your face to meet your eyes. He did not however notice the way you pressed your thighs together at his touch. His eyes skimmed over the features of your face, a slight amused smile forming on his face. “You’re flushed…. Did you have any of Soonyoung’s alcohol?” 

You shook your head but were unable to shake his fingers from your face. “His blend is not my drink of choice.” 

“Oh gods, please don’t tell me you had any beer.” 

“I think I had two cans…… or maybe four?” You frowned. “I can't remember but I'm not drunk! Beer barely makes me-” 

“Y/n,” Sighing, Chan finally let you go. “Party rule number one, you never drink alcohol at an Aphrodite rager.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because Aphrodite’s children are a bunch of troublemakers. Don’t let their gorgeous faces fool you.” He brushed the hair off your face. “You must think people like Joshua are the finest to walk the Earth, but don’t judge a man without knowing his stories.” 

Joshua? You frowned. How could he be anything but a sweetheart? Soonyoung’s girlfriend maybe was an obnoxious toad but not Joshua. He was flawless. 

“You might as well have drank Soonyoung’s disgusting blend.” Chan muttered. “Why do you think his alcohol sells so well at these parties?” 

“Because his annoyingly beautiful girlfriend is a daughter of Aphrodite?” 

“Yes, but also because only the insane drink the booze served at an Aphrodite party. She may be the goddess of Love but she’s also the goddess of Sex and more importantly, her children are addicted to it.” Chan looked at you just a little worried. “Those drinks are their special concoctions of aphrodisiacs.” 

“A-aphrodisiacs???” 

“Aphrodite, aphrodisiacs - not far off huh?” He shrugged. “I’m not sure if it hit you yet - do you feel anything?” 

“No….” You shook your head. 

The correct answer was hell yes. Everything going on with you suddenly made sense but you couldn't tell Chan that, not him. 

“Are you not feeling unnaturally hot?” He looked at you concerned as he sat down beside you, his body unwittingly brushing against yours. “Doesn't the tiniest bit of proximity rile you up?” 

You didn’t answer him. You didn't need him to know just how much even his presence was affecting you thanks to those stupid sex potions.

“I should tell you beforehand, when it hits, it’s going to be intense but the longer you resist it, the stronger it gets.” You turned to him, only just realising how close his face was to yours. “The only chance you have of getting out of it…. is to give in.” 

Gulping you stared at him. The boy who was always bright, laughing around and cracking jokes like he was an old man was looking at you with unusually darkened eyes, his thighs pressed against yours, your hand inches away from him. 

The only chance you have of getting it out is to give in.

“Chan do you think….” You gulped. “...you can guard the door for a while?”

Perhaps if it were anyone but Lee Chan you would have climbed them by now. Because he was right - the more you tried to control yourself, the more you felt yourself slipping. But not with Chan, definitely not with him. He was far too sweet and innocent to be dragged into whatever mess was going on with you. 

“I might uh need a few minutes alone here.” You mumbled. 

Chan blinked like he didn't understand but when you looked away, wiping the sweat trickling down your neck in a pretty cold room, he seemed like he got it. 

“Oh y-yeah sure.” He got up quickly, not looking at you. “I'll be right outside.”

And with that he scurried out, closing the door behind him. 

The moment he disappeared you smacked your head - you didn't particularly enjoy beer anyways, why did you have to drink it tonight? If you were being honest, it was because of Soonyoung and his irritatingly gorgeous girlfriend and their unnecessary antics right in front of you face- 

No. 

No no no. 

You couldn't be spiralling with these thoughts again. Chan said the longer you resisted, it was going to get worse so you were going to do whatever it took to get this feeling out of your system. 

As you unbuttoned your shorts, you got up and leaned against the sink to avoid seeing your face in the mirror, barely able to meet your own eyes given what you were about to do. Pushing your embarrassment aside considering the need of the hour, you slid your hand past the material of your underwear, fingers feeling exactly how drenched you were. 

“Fucking hell.” You muttered. How was it possible that you were this wet absolutely unprompted and for no reason at all? What the hell was in those concoctions?? 

You thought you could just get off with your own fingers but given how easily they were sliding past your hole there was no way you could do this on your own, especially not here. Annoyed, you pulled your hand out and turned, washing it under the running water, sighing at your reflection in the mirror. Chan was right, you were incredibly flushed, your pupils were blown and the sheen of sweat was very evident - oh it was definitely getting worse. 

Maybe you could go find Mingyu and convince him to give you a ride back to camp. If you could get your hands on Soonyoung’s toy again, you could help yourself out of this. That was perhaps the best thing to do right now. 

Adjusting your hair and your clothes, you gave yourself a determined nod and opened the door, expecting to see Chan but finding someone else entirely guarding the door.

“M-Minghao.” You stuttered as he looked over his shoulder, eyes finding you.

“Party rule number two, never trust Lee Chan to do anything in a party with alcohol.” 

You should have known - he might be your age but Chan was like an overexcited child. And did Minghao just say rule number two? Did that mean he was aware….

“You’re still very aroused.” He smirked as you felt your cheeks heat with embarrassment. “I’m guessing whatever you were trying to do in there didn’t work out.” 

You groaned. “I can’t believe Chan told you-” 

“He didn’t.” Minghao shook his head amused. You watched as he ran his eyes from your face down. “He didn’t have to, it’s pretty evident.” 

“I just need to get home and I’ll be fine-” 

“I don’t think so.” He dropped his voice, his wide frame covering anyone from seeing you. “On the contrary, you might quite literally pounce on the first guy you see-” 

“You’re the first guy.” 

Minghao’s eyes darkened as he looked at you wordlessly. Strangely, you felt something shift inside you too - oh god he was right.

“How much longer-”

“There’s bedrooms upstairs you know-” 

”Are you guys done-”  

“No.” Minghao shook his head, silencing the voices behind him as he slid his bracelet off his wrist and hooked it to the door handle, eyes not leaving you even once. “Get in.” 

Surprisingly you obeyed, taking a step back, allowing him to enter as he closed the door behind him much to the disappointment of the many queueing outside. 

“Y/n,” How was his voice so much deeper suddenly? “This is the exact kind of trouble the Aphrodite children are looking for. They want the drama that comes from the inability to control oneself, you’re better than that.” 

“What do you want me to do?” You groaned. “Before you shoved me back in here, I was trying to leave and get back to camp so I can deal with it myself-” 

“The art of war lies in self control.” He slid his arms in his pockets, looking at you just like he did every morning on the training field. “As a demigod, you are at your best when you learn how to control yourself. People misunderstand how this aphrodisiac works - you don't have to give in, it does wear off after a point. Most just don't happen to be able to control themselves till then.”

“Wears off at what point because Minghao, it's been barely 20 minutes since I’ve had those drinks and I’m barely able to get a hold of myself.” 

“Which is precisely why leaving right now is a horrible idea - you don’t have a hold over yourself.” He let out a deep breath. “We can fix it. We can stay here for however long you need and you can let this pass. Consider it a lesson in your training.” 

“We’re training in the middle of a party?” 

“As warriors we’re always training.” He walked past you, sitting on the edge of the bathtub like you had been just a while ago, looking annoyingly relaxed. “Do you think I enjoy these all-pink, snooty french parties? I come here just for the drinks.” 

Your jaw dropped. “Y-you had the beer too?” 

Minghao nodded. 

“On purpose? After knowing what they do?” 

He nodded again.

“Why in the world would you do that?” 

“To practise self control.” He stated like it was obvious.

“By drugging yourself?” 

“A good warrior is one who doesn’t allow himself to be governed by any kind of emotion - lust is usually the hardest to control.” 

“So that concoction has no effect on you?” 

“It's starting to hit.” Minghao looked at you intently as your eyes flickered down to his pants, noticing the bulge. “But I'm not the kind to give in.” 

“Well I think I'm the kind to.” You muttered, throat going dry as you peeled your eyes away. Minghao didn't. “I don't know how to explain it.” You shut your eyes tight, embarrassed of the words leaving you but you knew he might be the only person who understood where you were at. “but I have this feeling like I'm being clawed on the inside, like if I don't have anything in me right this second, I might just lose my mind.”

“I get it.” Your eyes flew open to find him standing right in front of you, his face inches away. “I feel like I'm on the edge of my sanity too but you can fight it.” 

Gulping you looked at the way his lips moved, the vein of his neck stark as was his collarbone peeking from under his shirt. Before this, you hadn’t actually noticed just how handsome Minghao was. 

“l can't.” You whispered, running your eyes over his features. “Can…can you help me?” 

Leaning closer, his gaze hardened. You could see there were thoughts running in that head of his - the warrior was engaged in a battle with himself. 

“Minghao please.”

Grabbing your waist, he spun you around swiftly, trapping you between his hands and the sink, meeting your eyes in the reflection of the mirror. 

“Help you how?” 

You looked at how his mouth was right by your ear and his frame so wide behind you that he was engulfing you merely with his presence. On one hand there were his arms, veins running up them as he gripped the edge of the sink and on the other was the fact that if you just took one step back, you knew you would feel his length pressed against you - both of which were making things exponentially worse. 

“Tell me how you want me to help Y/n.” He muttered, his breath soft against your ear.

“I… you know how-” 

“I was helping. I was telling you what to do-”

“Can't you do something instead?” Knowing exactly what you were doing, you took a small step back, pressing your back against his chest and your ass against his length. “Didn't you say it hit you too?” 

You thought it was a fair enough proposition. Both of you had taken the drink so it was easy to put the blame on it for anything that might potentially happen.

“But I don't need any help.” He shook his head adamantly. “If I help you, what's in it for me?” 

“I'll owe you one.” You sighed. “Whenever, wherever, please Minghao….”

“Remember those words.” He whispered, his hand snaking around your waist to unbutton your shorts, fingers lingering over your skin. 

“W-wait.” You gasped. Though this was exactly what you were expecting when you asked for his help, as it blended into reality, you felt an uncertainty kick in. “W-what if someone opens the door-”

“A door that has the bracelet of Ares on it?” Minghao's reflection raised his eyes amused. “They'd be crazy to.” 

“b-but what if…. I'm too loud or something. Wouldn't we be in trouble?”

“Y/n.” His hand drew back just a little. “Are you sure you want me to….” 

“Yes.” You shut your eyes mortified that just the feeling of him withdrawing his touch was physically painful. “Yes please …” 

Almost instantly Minghao obeyed, his hand snaking past the material of your shorts, just the thin layer of your underwear keeping his fingers away from you. 

“Oh you poor thing, you're drenched.”

You nodded as his hand pushed aside your panties, running his digits along your folds, smearing your arousal everywhere, a fingertip prodding your hole ever so slightly. 

“I'm not sure two fingers are enough for you.” He muttered, groaning. “You really want a dick inside don't you?” 

“So bad.” You whispered back. “I wouldn't even mind two of them in me right now-” 

You felt your words die in your throat as Minghao chuckled, slipping his fingers into your wet hole. “Let's start with two of these first.” 

A soft moan left you as you agreed, hands gripping the edge tighter as his digits simply stayed inside you. 

“Look at you.” He muttered in your ear. “Open your eyes and look at yourself.” 

Hesitating you obeyed, catching sight of the two of you in the mirror as his free hand wrapped around your waist, holding you in place against him. Something about the way your small frame fit against his wider one was….nice. 

You wanted to ask him to move his fingers, to give you something but before you said it, he slowly began pumping his digits in and out, burying his face in the dip of your neck. As his mouth brushed your skin, you felt yourself tense around his fingers. 

“So tight. ” He mumbled. “Oh you'd be such a delight to fuck.” 

“Then fuck me.” You moaned as his fingers picked up speed. 

“Tempting.” His voice left him like a low growl as his teeth grazed your skin. “But I'm a man of principles.” 

“Are you sure?” Reaching for the hand on your waist, you led it up your torso under your shirt, guiding him to your tits.  

“No bra?” He half groaned, squeezing it. “What a doll.”

“Don't you want to fuck me?” Moaning you tried to push your ass further against his rock hard self. “Use me and we can both be free of this-” 

“Don't be greedy Y/n.” Contrary to his words, he let a third finger join his act. “Take what I'm giving you.” 

Feeling a lot more full now, you felt your jaw slacken and no words left as both his hands took turns to harshly pump and squeeze, his mouth along your shoulder and neck, leaving painful, stinging marks of red. 

“Faster.” You panted as his tongue ran along your skin to soothe the burn and fingers obeyed, stretching you out just right. Minghao could tell it wasn't enough and his thumb darted to your clit, having you keen in his arms. The moment he curled his fingers up, met your eyes in the reflection and whispered, “cum for me doll.”, all that was building inside you instantly snapped, your orgasm washing over you in waves. 

Thank god he held you up against him because as you pressed your legs, riding out your climax, they began trembling. When your sight became clear and you came around, Minghao slowly let you go but whatever fire was burning inside you was not satiated. 

Fucking hell. 

“You need more?” Minghao chuckled as he took a step back and you turned to him, eyes still hooded with lust. 

“Perhaps just another…” You ran your hand down his chest, unzipping his hoodie, revealing his black tank top. “Finish off the favour.” 

“I don’t think so.” He shook his head. “As your campmate I did help. But now as your trainer, I'm going to let you get over the rest on your own.” 

“Minghao….” You groaned. If he was going to leave you halfway, he might as well not have done anything. Now you were, in fact, much more turned that you didn't think his fingers could even do the job anymore…..you needed the whole package. 

But like he said, Minghao was a man of principles, he wouldn't give in…. unless you could tempt him enough? 

Humming you looked around. The four walls of this bathroom did not seem like the right place to try and entice him but thankfully, you remembered Soonyoung’s girlfriend mentioning the bedrooms upstairs. 

“Fine.” You agreed, adjusting your clothes and buttoning up while Minghao washed his hands. Perhaps if the two of you found yourself in the proximity of one of those rooms, you could get him to succumb.

As you pulled your hair into a ponytail, Minghao opened the door, holding it for you to leave first but being the girl you were, you wantonly brushed your hand against his erection, pretending your actions were innocent. He stared at you as you walked away from him, stopping only at the edge of the staircase to glance at him before heading up, hoping he was following. 

Pushing through the crowd of people making out and feeling each other up in a way that was far from decent, you glanced down the corridor, slightly surprised. The house didn’t seem so big from the outside but the corridor before you looked endless with dozens of rooms on either side. You walked past them, avoiding the ones with socks on the knobs, knocking on some to receive screams of ‘go away’ and ‘taken’ and opening some unanswered doors to sights you wished you never saw. Half disturbed and half amused you continued to try and find an empty room when the sound of a particular something made you stop your tracks, eyes widening. 

Your name. 

Your name sounding like a strangled moan, repeated over and over, getting breathless with each word.

Gulping, you slowly pushed the door next to you open, both terrified and curious about what you were going to see because a part of you recognised that voice - it was one you heard on camp all the time. 

Sure enough, before you was a large bed, Soonyoung sitting against the headboard, his pants pushed down his thighs and his dick in his fist, pumping it hard and fast. He didn’t seem to notice your presence, his eyes screwed shut as your name continued to spill from his mouth. Of course this wasn’t the first time you were seeing Soonyoung do this but something had most definitely changed since last time. 

When you took a step ahead, letting the door close behind you, the click of it shutting was what finally got his attention, his eyes flying open. Catching sight of you he immediately swore loudly, tucking his length back into his pants, face turning a lot more red than it already was. 

“God woman, how long have you-” 

“Long enough to hear whose name you were saying.” You looked at him guiltily. “Soonyoung, you have a girlfriend-” 

“Mina and I are not together.” He confessed, gulping.”She wanted to but for the first time ever I refused to….” 

“Why?” You whispered, terrified of the answer. Please, please, please. Kwon Soonyoung cannot be in love with you. 

“For the last ten years I thought no one could make me feel the way she did and that’s why the two of us belong with each other but….” He sighed. “I learnt that that’s not true.” 

You blinked at him as he looked at you softly. 

“And you know why it’s not true.” 

“Soonyoung we….” You walked in, sitting on the edge of the bed. “What happened between us was just a favour, one friend to another. How can there be something between us-” 

“I know.” He nodded. “I’m not saying I’m in love with you or something, I…. I myself don’t really know, all this is new to me too.” 

“But what you were doing,” You tried not to glance at his pants where his erection was still very much evident. “That seemed like-” 

“Y/n I’ve only ever been with one woman my whole life who gave me a boner before I turned her down for good.” He couldn’t look at you either. “What else could I really do…..” 

A part of you understood him. You too were incredibly wound for a while now and you knew what it was like to try and fight it - you too had succumbed. In fact you were still not fully rid of the feeling and Soonyoung was right before you, just as aroused. Yesterday could be justified as an ignorant act whose consequences were not expected but if you went through with this today, there was no coming back from it. It wouldn’t be right…..

.

.

.

But fuck it. 

“You didn’t finish, did you?” 

Soonyoung shook his head slowly

Sighing, you kicked off your shoes and climbed on the bed on all fours, crawling towards him as he held his breath. 

“This is yet another favour.” You clarified, more to yourself than him, “Just so you can understand if it's me you want to fuck or just anyone who's not your girlfriend.” 

W-what?” He stuttered as your hand found the waistband of his pants. “We're going to…?” 

“We don't have to if you don't want to-” 

“Yes.” He breathed out, nodding fast. “God yes I want to.” 

Smiling just a little, you pulled his pants down a bit, the way they were when you had entered. His erection sprung out, lying against his shirt, the tip pink and flushed. You were familiar with how it looked, but this was the most up close you had seen it and the first time you touched it as you wrapped your wrist around the base, earning a hiss from him. 

“How long have you been hard?” 

“Over 20 minutes.” He groaned. “Ever since we spoke at the table…. your ass looked fucking good when you bent over the table.” 

“Yeah?” You pumped his length slowly. “You're not too bad yourself. Your abs are hot.”

Almost immediately, without needing to be told, Soonyoung pulled his sweatshirt over his head, tossing it on the floor. 

“Good boy.” Tongue darting out, you licked the precum on his slit, looking up at his blown pupils. “You taste good too.” 

“Fuck y/n, I might just cum right now.” 

“In my mouth?” You cooed. “Not inside me?”

Groaning Soonyoung threw his head back. Honestly, you had no idea how these words were even leaving you - you owed it to both the aphrodisiac coursing through you and also how submissive Soonyoung seemed in your hands. So reactive, so easy to please. 

The moment you took his tip in your mouth, his hand gripped your ponytail, trying to push himself further in. Pulling back with a wet pop, you clicked your tongue. 

“Uh huh.” You shook your head. “If we do this we do this my way.” 

“Do whatever the fuck you want.” He panted, his thighs twitching. “I'm all yours.” 

Although you had some thoughts about that statement you didn't voice them. One because you really wanted to suck him off and two because you heard a voice you knew most definitely wasn't Soonyoung. 

“So this is how you choose to tempt me.” 

Before you Soonyoung froze, eyes looking past you at the door where Minghao was standing. You could tell the man before you was both shocked and embarrassed and wanted to cover himself up but you didn't move to give him room for that. 

“If you're worried about your modesty Kwon, you should know I don't give a fuck.” Minghao leaned back against the door. “I'm only interested in what Y/n has to offer.” 

Soonyoung looked at you confused as you smiled just a little. Oh you managed to crack him and it didn't even take much. 

“Tell him my offer is still open.” You ran your tongue from his base up. “If you’re okay with it too that is.” 

Soonyoung’s eyes widened, finally realising what was happening. You doubted that he wouldn't be okay with it - the man was quite literally falling apart in your hands. 

Sure enough, he slowly nodded.

“From only one woman ever to this overnight?” Minghao raised his eyebrow. “Your girlfriend must've put you up to a really strong dose of those sex potions.” 

“I didn't drink a-any beer.” Soonyoung muttered as you ran your eyes over his face. He was the same as you - pupils widened, face flushed, breath fast and shallow. 

Oh. 

“You're telling me that woman isn't capable of slipping in a little something to entice her boyfriend who won't crawl back to her like he always does?” Minghao chuckled. “Because I think so.”

Well wasn't this ideal, now you could justify everything that was happening - it was simply three people succumbing to the effects of an aphrodisiac - nothing personal, nothing beyond anything physical. Except deep down you knew it must mean something if despite being drugged Soonyoung rejected his girlfriend because of you and Minghao who was a man of impeccable self control was crumbling for you. 

Except he hadn't really yet. 

Deciding to leave the thoughts for another time, you slightly looked over your shoulder at the man who was leaning against the wall. 

“Only my mouth is busy, I have two more free holes you know.” 

You could tell that something about the energy in the room had shifted the moment you said that, like it was only a matter of time before Minghao joined. Sure enough, you heard the lock of the door click behind you and from the way Soonyoung gulped and his eyes followed his teammate, you could tell Minghao had neared. Wrapping your mouth around the older man's tip again, you hummed at the weight of his dick on your tongue. 

“F-fuck.” Soonyoung groaned under his breath. 

As the bed dipped behind you, you knew Minghao had climbed in, finally succumbing, finally giving in. . 

“Is that the best you got?” He chuckled with a deep voice, pushing your knees apart with his own and running his hand down along your back as Soonyoung stared at him wide eyed. “That won't be enough for me.”

You could feel your mouth practically water, drool leaking down the corner of your lips as you took Soonyoung further in your mouth, earning a pained hiss. Minghao though was still not satisfied as he bent over, one hand unbuttoning your shorts, his breath at the shell of your ear, whispering. 

“Take care of my friend and I'll take care of you.” You looked at Soonyoung to see his eyes flickering between the two of you. “The louder he moans, the harder you'll get it.” 

Most definitely motivated, you sunk Soonyoung’s length deeper into your mouth, his tip touching the back of your throat, a deep groan leaving the man as his hand gripped your hair again to hold you back. 

Minghao smacked it away with the shake of a head as he drew himself back, fingers hooking onto your waistband as he pulled down both your shorts and panties in one go, letting it pool at your bent knees.

You could feel your arousal drip down your legs given how incredibly wet you were. A part of you wanted to see Minghao's face but then you would have missed the sight of Soonyoung panting, looking down at you like the mere smell of you had awakened something wild in him. To make things a whole lot worse, Minghao ran his fingers up your slit, playing with your wetness before gathering it on his digit and holding it out to his friend. 

“Want a taste?” 

“Bold of you to assume this is my first time.” Soonyoung smirked as he sucked off Minghao's fingers and you grinned to yourself. Atta boy. 

Minghao chuckled as he pulled his fingers away, smearing the wetness on the cheek of your ass, landing a smack that sent a sharp sting, making you moan around Soonyoung. 

“Barely a week in camp and look at you.” He mimicked his actions on your other cheek, the impact jerking your forward, Soonyoung’s length slipping into your throat. “Good girl.” 

“So fucking good.” Soonyoung moaned. “That mouth is divine.”

“Not more than this.” Cupping the curve of your ass, Minghao dipped his finger into your quivering hole. You keened at the sensation, but didn't stop working on Soonyoung's dick - you knew if you gave Soonyoung what he needed, Minghao would give you what you wanted and god did you want to feel full of him. When you grinded against his hips, his hands left you and you finally heard the sound of Minghao's zipper despite the lewd noises leaving your mouth being much louder. 

“Fuck baby just like that.” Soonyoug groaned as you picked up the speed, making him feel more and more of your throat. 

You still couldn't tell what Minghao was doing, the absence of his touch testing your patience, your teeth accidentally grazing Soonyoung’s dick making him hiss in pain. 

Minghao chuckled, adjusting your body on each knee to pull out the clothes on your lower half and when he aligned himself behind you, you could tell he discarded his own too. His hands returned to your ass which you guessed was faint red, a colour that was exceedingly a part of Minghao's life, a colour he seemingly enjoyed. Although you did want him to rail you into tomorrow, you didn't mind if he took a moment to admire what he saw. 

As though he was lost in thought about the same, Minghao dragged his dick along your folds, his length bumping your clit and sending a jolt down your nerves, before he aligned himself.

“W-wait” Looking at his friend, Soonyoung let out a strangled cry. “She hasn't been prepped-”

“Oh Kwon.” You felt his tip pushing into your needy wet hole. “She's already ready for me.” 

And with that he buried himself to the hilt, the suddenness making you choke around Soonyoung’s length much to the latter's surprise and delight. Barely giving you the time to get a hold of yourself, Minghao began thrusting into you, the force pushing your mouth to take more of Soonyoung, your hands painfully gripping his thighs. The older man, who could have been a little more considerate, also began ramming his dick into your mouth, barely allowing you to breathe. 

You could feel yourself losing a grip on reality, one man fucking you onto another - you never thought you would ever find yourself in a situation like this but here you were, being wrecked on both ends by men who were strangers just a week ago but god did it feel good. 

Minghao bunched the material of your shirt, pushing it up along your spine, as you pulled yourself away from Soonyoung, desperate to get some air before you passed out. He groaned at the loss of your warm mouth but his expression turned fond as you looked up at him, drool running down your chin messily. Considering you looked absolutely fucked out, you didn't get why he was so enamoured as he tucked your hair behind your ear. 

“Shit I could watch you all day sweetie.” 

You wanted to say something back but your throat felt too sore and bruised so you settled on just giving him a sweet smile. Minghao watched the interaction between the two of you intently, his movements slowing down to deep, hard strokes. You could feel him so far in, reaching spots no one ever had before. Not even Cheol’s dildo model. 

“Do you need a breather?”

Soonyoung's concern laced voice was echoed by another one that sounded a lot more condescending.  

“Do you?”

Though you had barely gotten any air in you for so long and your eyes were threatening to roll back, you knew Minghao would only allow you to cum if Soonyoung did and man did the latter have the stamina of a bull. 

Shaking your head you spat in your hand and wrapped your fist around the base of his cock, stroking it. 

“I'm tired.” You muttered. “Fuck me Soonyoung.” 

Forgetting Minghao’s previous instructions to not use his hands, Soonyoung obeyed, gripping your hair again, guiding your mouth back to his cock. 

“Tap me twice if you want to stop.” 

Much to his surprise, you took him in at a whole new depth, making him throw his head back in pleasure as he held your head down, dick getting squeezed down your throat. At the same time the man behind you decided to pay attention to your clit, making you tremble at the combined sensation but there was nothing you could do - you were at the mercy of both men. 

As Soonyoung loosened his grip, allowing you draw back, you barely had the time to catch a breath before he was fucking his dick into your mouth, at the same speed Minghao was ravaging you from behind. 

“Fuck fuck fuck.” Soonyoung groaned as his movements got sloppy and his grip tight. 

“Fuck I'm gonna come.” 

Oh fucking finally. 

But to your complete surprise, you felt Minghao's weight press against your back as he leaned over you, hips not stopping their abuse on your hole, whispering, 

“Enough.” 

Although you knew it was cruel, you immediately tapped Soonyoung’s thigh and the moment he let you go confused, you pulled away, looking at him guiltily as you got on all fours.

“That's my good girl.”

“Xu Mingao.” Soonyoung groaned as the other man drew back. “What the hell?!” 

Minghao simply chuckled. “You know how much I enjoy pain.”

“Sadist.” Soonyoung mumbled, trying to push himself to the edge again, pumping his length slick with your spit, hard and fast. 

“Oh no.” Minghao shook his head, continuing to fuck the living daylights out of you. “If you cum I'm not letting you get a taste of this.”

“That's for Y/n to tell.” 

“Tell him doll.” 

You didn't know how he expected you to answer as he rolled his hips against your ass, hitting all the spots.

“Tell him what you want.” 

“Don't you…” You moaned as Minghao tightened his grip on you painfully. “Don't you want to cum inside me?”

Muttering under his breath, Soonyoung looked at you with eyes filled with lust. You could tell he was leaning to kiss you, but suddenly Minghao's hand wrapped around your neck, drawing you away. 

Sitting on his ankles, he pulled you back till your thighs rested on him and stripped you of your shirt, baring your body to Soonyoung like a mannequin on display. 

“Didn't you say you could watch her all day?” He smirked at the older man, hand snaking around your waist. “Now watch.” 

You finally seem to understand where the shift in intentions was coming from as he began snapping his hips up into you. Though he wasn't hitting you as deep, his fingers found your clit again and was tightening that knot in you unbelievably fast, your body growing hot and tense. 

It was the sound of Soonyoung’s soft sigh that brought you attention back to him as he watched where Minghao disappeared into you with unwavering eyes, fully discarding his pants. When you let out another unholy moan, he looked up, not before his eyes lingered at your tits, his tongue running along his lower lip ravenously. At the sight of him and with Minghao hitting that spot once again, you finally convulsed around him, your orgasm hitting you with an intensity it never had before. Under your grip as tight as a vice, Minghao swore in your ear as he came too, ropes of his release painting your insides. 

It was only when his warmth hit your walls that you realised he had not worn a condom and you had not cared.

Before you could justify to yourself that Demigods probably didn't get STDs and it didn't matter, Minghao pulled himself out, depriving you of his girth to clamp around. With a swift movement that was all a blur to you, he manhandled you around till you felt your back aligning against Soonyoung’s chest, the latter spreading your legs apart, the mixed releases leaking out of you, onto his dick. 

“Just a little longer.” Minghao tilted your head up by the chin, face hovering over yours. “Be a doll will you?”

You nodded as Soonyoung slipped himself into you with a groan. 

“Fuck I don't think I'm going to last long enough anyways.” 

Considering you still hadn't even fully come down from your orgasm yet, Soonyoung's intrusion felt like an intense surge of pleasure shooting up your being. Overwhelmingly, in less than a thrust or two, you found yourself cumming again almost immediately, walls fluttering, tightening around him. 

Muttering a string of fucks, Soonyoung bit down on your shoulder, his hips moving erratically as he felt himself nearing his high. Cooing into his ear though his thrusts were starting to get painful given your sensitivity, you rolled your hips and with two sharp jerks, Soonyoung finally emptied his load straight into you, cumming copiously. 

As he softly held you against him, letting your breaths slowly become regular again, your vision finally cleared and you caught sight of a half naked Minghao before you, watching you snuggled in the arms of his friend. Your eyes ran down, finally catching sight of the dick that had been inside you, lips curling into a small smile. 

“Good?” 

He asked, scanning your features as he slid off the bed.

“So good.” You muttered, beckoning him with your hand. 

Narrowing his eyes confused, he walked around, picking up all the clothes tossed around before he neared you. Pulling him closer to the edge of the bed by the hand, you wrapped your hand around his dick, leaning over to take it in your mouth. As you licked it clean, tasting your mixed releases along his length, you watched his eyes darken. 

“Just wanted to be fair.” 

“You're not satiated are you?” He smirked amused as you slowly shook your head. “Careful doll, you won't be able to stay conscious through another round with us.” 

“I know..” You muttered, snuggling back into Soonyoung’s chest. “I’m tired. Wanna go back.” 

“Let's clean you and get you dressed first.” Soonyoung patted your head softly, unwilling to move as your eyes began fluttering shut. “Hao, open that third drawer under the sink, there's washcloths in there.” 

“And how do you know that?” 

“This is my gir- ex girfriend's room.” Soonyoung muttered. 

That information seemed to surprise even Minghao who was usually quite unfazed. “You're crazy Kwon.” 

He voiced your thoughts as he disappeared into the bathroom, shaking his head. Within seconds he returned, handing a white towel to Soonyoung who slowly wiped you clean, trying not to brush any sensitive areas.

Just as he finished and his lips softly pressed against your temple asking you not to fall asleep, the sound of a knock resounded in the room, along with a voice.

“Anyone from Camp Seventeen here?” 

“Yes.” Minghao and Soonyoung replied at the same time.

“Someone is here looking for your team. Says it's code yellow.” 

You watched as the boys shared looks, panicked. Slowly pulling himself away from you, Soonyoung caught the clothes Minghao threw to him, the two of them moving quickly to dress themselves.Pulling your hair into a neat ponytail again and trying to ignore your aching body, you swung your legs off the bed.

“What’s going on?” 

“Get dressed.” Minghao handed you your clothes, looking tense. “When a team member calls a code, it means everyone needs to gather immediately.” 

 You nodded, half understanding as you began to dress yourself. “But what's code yellow?” 

Looking at your shivering self, Minghao threw you his hoodie, which you slipped on, letting it envelop you in its warmth. 

“Yellow is a moderate danger alert.” Soonyoung held the door open for you as Minghao stepped out. “It most likely means the camp is under attack.”

Oh fuck. 

Pushing through the crowd, you followed the boys downstairs, trying not to lose them in their hurry. Noticing you lagging behind thanks to the fact that you were struggling to walk, Soonyoung grabbed your hand, wrapping his hand around your wrist. 

From the corner of your eye, you saw Seokmin and Joshua laughing away with a group of girls but before you could call them along, you were dragged away in the urgency of the boys you were with. As you reached the front door, coming to a halt right behind Minghao, your eyes fell on the familiar back of a man leaning against the frame. 

Oh no.

“Chief.” 

Seungcheol turned as both boys bowed, greeting him. 

You simply stared wordlessly, as the blonde man's eyes found you, flickering from the jacket you had donned, to Soonyoung's hand which was still holding yours. 

Behind him lightning cracked opened the sky and rain began pouring furiously. 

Chapter 3

a/n - please send me your thoughts - this series is waaaay out of my comfort zone, I need to know I'm not completely messing shit up and if I missed you in the taglist, please lmk! Also please be patient for chapter 3 - I have to temporarily shift focus to my other stories as well, I will be back here soon!

[mascula-sappho]

handy guide for the Silm fandom when writing about characters handling or riding horses from a Silm fan and horse owner + dressage rider of 4 years:

1. Horses in Himring MUST have worn studs (and maybe rubber) in their horseshoes. These are detachable spikes on the bottom of the horseshoe to help the horse grip on surfaces such as ice and even grass. Horses can get injured very easily and so it is unrealistic to expect a horse from Himring to simply leave marks with plain horseshoes in the ice and also to expect it so be able to balance. On top of that we usually don't let horses outside if it is too cold or if it is too icy as a horse with a broken leg usually has to be euthanized since horses literally live their whole lives standing up. Horses cannot be galloped in weather under 20 degree Fahrenheit because they will struggle to breathe. Save the orc raids for when the patrols can actually ride out. Oh, and the horses need warm wearable blankets if they aren't tiny fluffy northern breeds (which an elf couldn't fit on) and if they are breeds at all suitable for riding they are not fluffy and need blankets.

2. Horses are naturally fearful and dramatic animals. Elves, being able to communicate easily with horses, would often have to assuage their horses' fears of literally any unfamiliar object or thing. Some things my (very calm and rational for a horse) horse has been afraid of: doors, deer, kites, balloons, ceiling fans, and bizarrely, chrysanthemums. Battle trained horses have had to undergo lots of training to teach them to be comfortable around battle. Horses also have inter horse drama very often and two horses might randomly hate each other for no reason or they might have a toxic codependent relationship. All forms of relationship drama except for romantic jealousy occur in horse social groups. Basically every single horse social group is a high school, ok?

3. Riding a horse without a saddle for extended periods of time will hurt their back. Even if you don't ride with a bridle (which is just easier for faster and more immediate and precise communication so elves probably used them - when I ride without a bridle we both get confused easily), riding without a saddle is more uncomfortable for both horse and rider and more taxing on the rider. Legolas is an idiot showoff.

4. Horses become very attached to their friends, whether humanoids or horses. There are many stories of horses risking their lives for their riders, and my horse personally is very concerned for my safety and well-being, nosing me gently and constantly checking on me. They are as social as dogs but usually not as easy to earn the trust of. It took my horse like 8 months to fully come out of her shell and we are still working on her trauma from being mistreated before I bought her. Horses have much better memories than dogs. If you teach a horse something they will never forget it, which is why undoing horse trauma or incorrect training is a very long and difficult process. Horses show affection by wiggling their lips either while looking at or touching the subject of their affection, for example my horse will twitch her lips at the sound of my voice, but also will gently nibble and drag her upper lip over the nearest part of my body. They also show affection by pressing their nose against you, and exhaling slowly though their nostrils (the exhales roughly translate to "hello/I love you"). Horses' upper and lower lips are prehensile and able to grab and manipulate objects. Their noses are very sensitive.

Here are my (very cute) credentials:

[bbyjackie]

𝐒𝐎𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐒 𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐉𝐈'𝐒 𝐆𝐅 — ♡

one piece social media + dating feat: sanji

》 almost everyone wanted sanji's ver

♡ liked by sogekingg.usopp, FRAAANKY and 3.9k others

_ynln: hard launch

tagged: blackleg.sanji

theroronoa.zoro: what is he pondering so hard about 💀�� (liked by nicorobin)

↳ blackleg.sanji: i was staring at a polaroid of the most beautiful, fantastic, gorgeous, jaw-dropping, mind consuming, pretty, lovely, enchanting, heart-throbbing, charming, attractive, cute, captivating, bewitching, stunning, irresistible, elegant, heavenly.. see more

↳ theroronoa.zoro: oh my god forget i asked

sogekingg.usopp: wdym your relo has BEEN hard launched since like four months ago 🤨🤨

↳ _ynln: sad 💔💔 i wanted to soft launch it but that was never possible

↳ theroronoa.zoro: i was trying to sleep and all i heard was screaming

↳ lovenami: real, if i was sanji i would be shocked too if i pulled yn ☝️

↳ blackleg.sanji: @theroronoa.zoro I HAD TO ANNOUNCE TO THE WORLD THAT MY DEAR YN SAID YES 💞💘💝💗

↳ sogekingg.usopp: y’all got NO faith in sanji 😭😭

p1rateking_luffy: what's hard launch?

♡ liked by theroronoa.zoro, ilovecottoncandychopper and 5.3k others

_ynln: he made me dinner, i might just cuff him rn 😪🤞

tagged: blackleg.sanji

p1rateking_luffy: OOOO IM COMING TO THE KITCHEN RIGHT NOW 😄😄

↳ blackleg.sanji: don't even try, i locked the door

↳ p1rateking_luffy: LET ME IN!!1!1!!1

↳ theroronoa.zoro: LUFFY STOP BANGING ON THE DOOR I CAN HEAR YOU FROM THE GYM

↳ p1rateking_luffy: LET ME INNNN PLEASEEEEE

↳ _ynln: luffy omg wait im making you a plate 😭

↳ p1rateking_luffy: OOO THANKS YN

↳ p1rateking_luffy: btw whats a hard launch

_ynln: @blackleg.sanji you actually look so fine in this photo i might just have to delete it 😮‍💨😮‍💨🫵

↳ blackleg.sanji: ANYTHING YOU WANT MY LOVE 😍😍😍

blackleg.sanji: DO IT. I WOULD GLADLY MARRY YOU MY LOVE. IF THAT MEANS THAT I GET TO BE WITH YOU EVERY SECOND OF THE DAY I WILL GET ON MY KNEES RIGHT NOW. I WILL COOK FOR YOU FOR EVERY MEAL AND BUY YOU ANYTHING YOU WANT BEAUTIFUL GIRL 🧎🏼‍♂️🧎🏼‍♂️❣️❤️‍🔥💓💘💗💞💝💕

↳ _ynln: ok 😭

♡ liked by nicorobin, p1rateking_luffy and 13 others

priv.ynn: usopp is a real one for taking these photos ☝️☝️

tagged: blackleg.sanji

sogekingg.usopp: I AM THE CERTIFIED BEST WINGMAN 💪💪

blackleg.sanji: I WILL KEEP THESE PHOTOS IN MY WALLET AND PUT THEM NEXT TO MY PILLOW SO THAT WHEN I WAKE UP I AM REMINDED THAT I HAVE BEEN BLESSED I LOVE YOU MY YN 🥰🥰😘😚🤩

↳ theroronoa.zoro: yn blink twice if you need help

↳ lovenami: ngl yeah that was a bit concerning 😭😭 (liked by nicorobin, sogekingg.usopp)

↳ priv.ynn: EVIL AHHAHA

p1rateking_luffy: yn what's hard launch?

CAPTAIN.KIIIID: i hate happy people

ilovecottoncandychopper: i love that you guys love eachother ❣️

↳ nicorobin: agreed

↳ priv.ynn: AWW YOU GUYS <333

♡ liked by _ynln, S0U1K1NGBR00K and 7.4k others

lovenami: robin w us in spirit </3

tagged: _ynln

S0U1K1NGBR00K: May I see both your panties? 🤲

↳ lovenami: words cannot explain how much i DONT want that (liked by _ynln)

↳ blackleg.sanji: NO ONE DESERVES TO SEE SOMETHING SO INTIMATE OF YN'S OR NAMI'S I WILL FIGHT YOU 🤺🤺‼️

sogekingg.usopp: YOU GUYS SAID WE'D GO SEE BARBIE TOGETHER WTF ?!?

↳ _ynln: WE LITERALLY INVITED YOU BUT YOU WERE TOO BUSY MAKING FUNNY FACES WITH LUFFY 🤨🤨

↳ sogekingg.usopp: YOU SHOULDVE SLAPPED ME

↳ p1rateking_luffy: WAIT I WANTED TO SEE BARBIE TOO

↳ p1rateking_luffy: anyway what's hard launch?

↳ lovenami: luffy you can barely concentrate on a five minute video, we aren't taking you to the theatre for two hours 💀💀

↳ _ynln: yeah luf, love u but you're gonna be bouncing off walls by the 20 minute mark 😔😔

nicorobin: so pretty! (liked by _ynln, lovenami, blackleg.sanji)

↳ _ynln: MISSED U SM ROBIN 💔

↳ blackleg.sanji: I AGREE MY YN LOOKS SO GORGEOUS SHE RIVALS EVEN GODDESSES, I LOVE HER SM I WOULD FLOP OVER A PUDDLE BECAUSE DIRT DOES NOT EVEN DESERVE TO BE WITHIN HER VICINITY ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥💗💘‼️💝💕💞❣️💘🥰😍😘😚😮‍💨😍☝️🫵

↳ FRAAANKY: sanji im worried you're one more comment away from a restraining order

blackleg.sanji 2h

[blackleg.sanji] _ynln replied to your story: omg sanji stop im so in love with you 😔💞

[jjennuine]

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ᭄᭡ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ROMANCE AND LOATHE 𝗂 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒 𝖼𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁 𝗎𝗌 , 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗂 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝖽𝖺 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝖼𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁 𝗎𝗌

PREC𝒾S getting stuck in the office elevator with your most hated colleague left you red-faced and him with multiple kiss marks in your favorite lipstick shade on his neck.

노래 추천해줘 jake x fem reader enemies to lovers fluff suggestive office au 𝟭𝟮𝟲𝟱 making out tension use of profanity ｡｡ MES OUEVRES

• 𝒾f enjoyed, please 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆 ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱

As soon as you laid eyes on the man you despise most, a rush of pure anger and loathing overwhelmed you. He strolled into the elevator with his typical arrogant smirk, the same one he always used to anger you.

You folded your arms tightly across your chest and shot Jake a fierce glare, to which he responded with an equally intense look. From the moment both of you stepped into the workplace, you and Jake seemed to clash, and your initial encounter did nothing to help bond you two.

You remember rushing inside the building because you were late and you bumped into him, unfortunately spilling your coffee all over his suit. You tried to apologize but that arrogant jerk just gave you a nasty look and walked away.

From that moment forward, a fierce rivalry ignited between you and Jake, setting the stage for strict competition and ongoing conflict.

It seems like despite everyone's efforts, it's impossible to repair the relationship between you and Jake. Regardless of the attempts made by your boss and colleagues to make peace between you two, conflicts and arguments always seem to arise between you and Jake.

But your attention is suddenly drawn back to reality by the sound of a deep Australian voice coming from beside you.

“Geez, why are you always zoning out? You’re probably thinking about me, aren't ya?” Jake had a flirty grin on his face, obviously taunting you. Even though Jake was really attractive, more than you want to admit, he was still a jerk.

“Oh, please, you’re the one always begging for my attention” Jake tightened his jaw as he gazed at your raised eyebrows, your teasing expression goading Jake to react.

“I do not beg for your attention. Stop being ridiculous” You let out a small laugh in response to his defensive tone, but as you remembered who you were speaking to, your smile vanished quickly.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say” As you were just about to step out of the elevator, you were startled by a sudden, intense shaking that caused your heart to skip a beat out of fear.

Jake appeared to be intimidated as he swiftly grasped the railing of the elevator, his face contorted with a frightened expression.

“No, no, no, this cannot be fucking happening” In a state of concern, you quickly reached for the help button, expressing your worry.

Ever since you were a child, you have been haunted by the fear of this precise moment. Your hands tremble as you repeatedly press the help button, seeking reassurance and support.

Upon hearing a voice coming through the speaker, you experienced a rush of relief.

“H-hello? Anyone t-there?” The speaker's words were interrupted by frequent cuts, making it difficult for you to understand what the rescue team was saying.

“The elevator is stuck, please help me immediately”

Jake coughed, an offended expression crossed his face, causing you to roll your eyes in response. “Please help us, immediately”

‘We are heading there as fast as we can, this will take about an hour” You stood there in horror as the voice behind the speaker turned quiet.

“Son of a bitch!” You slammed your hand against the elevator wall in frustration, momentarily forgetting that Jake was standing right next to you until you heard his familiar voice.

“Take a deep breath, m’lady, we’ll be fine” The endearing nickname caused a slight flutter in your heart, but you immediately shot Jake a glare, while he looked back at you with an amused expression.

“I can't believe I have to be stuck with you for an hour, this is a nightmare” In a dramatic fashion, you dramatically slammed your face, causing Jake to scoff in response.

“Stop being so dramatic, you’ve probably fantasized about this before” You dismissed his playful comment with a hint of amusement and defensively crossed your arms.

“You wish, I would never date a jerkface like you”Jake laughed in reply as he took a step closer to you, his eyes crinkling with competitiveness.

“You know I just watched this movie, this is exactly what happened between the main character and the love interest” With a raised eyebrow, he approached you slowly, causing you to back up until your back met the wall.

“D-don’t tell me that you watch rom-coms, Sim” You stumbled over your words while attempting to imitate Jake, which made you feel flustered and embarrassed.

“Hm, you know what happens next tho?” With a mischievous smile, he hums a tune while looking at you with a hint of flirtation in his eyes.

“He held the girl's face” Jake gently lifted your chin with his fingers, prompting you to look up and meet his gaze.

As you caught sight of Jake's earnest gaze, you felt a sudden tightness in your chest. In that rare moment, a sense of tranquility enveloped you and Jake, allowing for a peaceful silence to settle between you.

“Then he held her face closer” Jake had a calm tone to his voice, moving your face closer to his. You felt his hot breath against your face as you gazed into his eyes softly. There wasn't any hatred in them, just pure love and sincerity.

Your heart pounded in your chest as your mind felt foggy, leaving you completely disoriented. Despite the confusion, you were determined to stay put, not wanting to ruin the moment.

“Then he kissed her” As he completed his sentence, he swiftly drew your face towards his, and your lips met in an intense kiss. He wrapped his arms around your head and waist, while you clung to his shoulders, drawing each other as close as possible.

As you both continued to make out, your bodies were entwined, with your breaths steady and your heartbeats quickening.

As he held you tightly, he carefully balanced on the elevator railing, making sure to keep a firm grip on your hand with his left hand.

You know it might not have been the best decision. If word got out about what went down between the two of you, the entire building would be buzzing with gossip.

But you couldn't bring yourself to worry about that. At that moment, it felt like everything else faded into the background, leaving only Jake in your line of sight. Time felt like it was slipping away as both of you found yourselves caught up in the moment, your minds racing and losing all sense of the passing hours.

As the two of you were lost in your moment, you two were abruptly jolted back to reality by the sound of a knock on the elevator door and a voice calling out from the other side.

“Oy!! Is anyone in there?” The search and rescue team shouted loudly, causing both of you to react with panic, quickly releasing each other.

As you smoothed down your hair and adjusted the fall of your dress, Jake straightened his suit and pushed his glasses up his nose. You both stepped out of the elevator and in a moment of awkwardness, you found yourself coughing.

As you both gaze at each other once more, you notice that Jake's neck is adorned with kiss marks from your lipstick, causing your cheeks to flush with embarrassment.

With a final wink, Jake exits the building, leaving you feeling flustered and bewildered by his sudden departure.

“See ya soon, m’lady” As you observed him silently mouthing his words, you stood there feeling a mix of confusion and anger, coming to the realization that you had just intentionally kissed the man you despised the most.

[brittle-doughie]

Revelation (Cookie Kingdom)

[Main Story]

You felt comfortable enough to leave Black Forest Cookie in the infirmary, what you weren’t comfortable about was that black mask Cookie escaping. You were hoping to get answers on what they were doing out here, but that would have to be for another time.

These pains were starting to come back to you.

Shadow Milk Cookie’s absence as well as the wedding situation had eased your mind all throughout, but you still had two other Beasts in your head and they did not let up on your torment.

“He may be gone, but do not forget, little worm. We are still lingering in your head and I will still look forward to the day that you SQUIRM!”

“A pity that he allows such meaningless things to turmoil him so much…however, your burden will still remain, Cookie…and I’ll always be here…ready to free you from it if you simply…accept me…”

Familiar pains, but all you needed was that incense to tide you over.

You reach your chambers and gently open the door…to a normal room as you head in. You head to your drawer and open to find your incense missing.

Odd, you checked the other drawers. Empty too.

It was there that you noticed that your therapist reports from Chamomile Cookie are missing too…

Your door suddenly closes as you turn your back to see three faces looking back at you.

Uh oh.

“Was there something you wanted to tell us, Y/N Cookie?”

You were used to the three calling you your name, but hearing it like that..it made you steadfast.

“We asked if you were doing alright and you decided to hide THIS from us?”

Salsa Cookie pulled out the therapist notes as she waved them in the air.

You tried to explain. It wasn’t out of any sort of doubt with them, you sweared! You just didn’t want to get them wrapped up in something that was bigger than what it seemed.

“We’re just worried, dearest. I could never think that you did this to hurt us. I believe in you that you wanted to protect us…”

“But you have to really tell us what is going on here. These are not a coincidence that they just showed up after you leave for the Ancient Heroes recently.”

“We are not just your subjects, Y/N Cookie. We are friends. Crowned Cupcake, not so much, but I don’t see a wedding happening anytime soon.”

“HEY!”

You..didn’t know what to say. You expected them to fully blow up at you for keeping what you know from them, so seeing them being relatively calm about this..it was odd to you.

Salsa was right, though. If you had to come clean, it would be today.

So you did.

You told them everything.

From the moment you left with Pure Vanilla for your first trip to Beast-Yeast to your last visit when you had to leave hastily a few months ago.

Dumpling Cookie was visibly taken aback, Crowned Cupcake was horrified, so was Salsa Cookie but her shock was quickly turned to anger as she clenched her fists.

“I knew it, this was THEIR doing.”

“Please, don’t blame the Ancients for this. It’s not their fault the Beasts had awoken recently.”

“But the facts cannot be denied that them bringing you along to face these Beast Cookies is the cause for your affliction.”

“My darling has Beasts in their head?!”

“Only two of them.”

“So long as you have his mark, Shadow Milk Cookie can return at anytime, possibly angrier than ever before.”

“We have to find a solution to this as well as placing a no entry order for all of the Ancient Heroes.”

“Wait no, don’t do that!”

“Don’t be so dramatic, ‘kay? There’s no need for that.”

“They CAUSED this to them! Y/N Cookie befriended them and THIS is what they get for it?!”

“I’ll throw them all in the dungeon if I have to! My darling is suffering and I can’t allow it!”

“I know, I’m upset about this too, but we can’t just make reckless decisions like this. It will only make matters worse.”

“I’ll decide how we move forward with this! Settle down!”

“And just let them walk all over us to let them take you to swan knows where and come back with ANOTHER Beast Cookie in your head?!”

Salsa Cookie’s pepper ponytail starts to slowly fire up as she allows her anger to boil.

“Salsa!”

“Why would they do this to you?!”

“I said SETTLE DOWN!”

You stomped your foot against the ground with enough force to slightly crack it, shocking everyone as they took a step back. You slowly realize what you’ve done as you look art the floor.

“Was that…?”

“Yes. Another effect to these marks besides having the Beasts in my head is me having a bit of their power too. That was Burning Spice Cookie just now. I don’t know…how much more of him and the other Beasts are a part of me now…”

“Right now, we need to find a way to remove those marks. Fighting among ourselves isn’t going to do anything. We will figure out something.”

Dumpling turns to Salsa.

“And you, Salsa. You need to get it together now.”

“You have no idea what happened in Chili Savilla. NONE!”

“This isn’t the way! It will only cause more headaches than it’s worth. We will figure out a way, but we do it as a team.”

Salsa Cookie stared down Dumpling Cookie, until she sighs as her pepper ponytail cools down.

“Fine, but this isn’t over.”

Salsa Cookie heads for you. You were about to question her when she placed a hand on your shoulder, her expression softening.

“If anything happens, let me know. I’ll always come running…”

“I know…thank you, Salsa…”

“As with me.”

“And me, darling…”

“Thank you. All of you…”

The four of you join in a group hug.

You felt a weight lifted off your chest…

“Adorable. Tell me, Y/N Cookie. How would you feel if they were crushed to dust before you?”

“Or faded away into nothingness. Would you feel…empty?”

But not enough…

[sageshouldknowbetter]

Lumon as the abusive mother. The building shaped like a uterus. (“I understand you’re unhappy with the life you’ve been given.”) Wire mother/cloth mother in their commercial. “Lumon will always protect and provide.” Creating their employees — waking them splayed out on a table, helpless — to give what Dan Erickson called “a sense of being born to the company.” “Milchick’s a nice man. He can’t always be nice like that.” Controlling realities. (“But eventually, we all have to accept reality. So here it goes.”) Building a chokehold of perfect pastel power based on shame and fear. “I’m afraid you don’t mean it. Say it again.” Covering up inflicted injuries with comedic explanations and little treats… because we don’t want people getting suspicious, do we? “What I just did was something I knew that you could handle and grow from. It was very painful for me. I hope that you’ll let it help you.” Rapidly oscillating between artificial comfort and breaking you into pieces. Lying. Infantilizing. And never dropping the smile. (“I am a person. You are not. I make the decisions. You do not.”)

Outies as the absent father. Only present for a single moment in the act of creation and never relied on again. (“The point is that Mark made a decision.”) Initiate the birth of a human consciousness for convenience — and then refuse to take responsibility for it. (“And that decision was controversial, ethically and socially.”) Portrayed as the ultimate authority and final word, but hold no actual power. Lied to. “I know your innie will be sad to have missed a day.” Fantasized about by the human consciousnesses they’ve created. “I like to think my outie lives on, like, a riverboat.” Trusted as rescuers — powerful. (“Well, we get her to the south stairwell… I’ll go with her… and once we’re out the door, my outie will know what to do.”) But are truly beaten down by life and don’t have all (any) of the answers. (“I don’t know. That’s his problem.”) They can’t BE there, but they can live on both in their creations’ skin and behind their eyes. “You carry the hurt down there too. You just don’t know what it is.” Want to stay away… yet cannot help but be curious. (“Like, you could get married and have kids, and just forget they exist for eight hours every day, for your whole life. That doesn’t mess with your head?” “I think for some people… that’s the point.”)

Innies as children. “Innie” — diminutive of “infant.” (“Forgive me for the harm I have caused this world.”) Petey’s first memories of Lumon coinciding with his fifth birthday. “Then again, you’ve been severed for two years, right? So your innie really is still just a baby.” Referred to with first name and initial… like little kids in a classroom. (“None may atone for my actions but me, and only in me can their stain live on.”) Have no say in how they dress, eat, or live their lives. “You brought him into this world without his permission, based on your own desire for emotional convenience.” Mark in the Grand Central pop-up being made to stand in a corner as punishment. (“I am thankful to have been caught, my fall cut short by those with wizened hands.”) Thought to be pacified with claymation. Cartoon mascots. Little treats. “Are you mad at me?” Not considered human, because if they’re human… how can we sleep at night? (“All I can be is sorry.”) Horrifically abused, but cannot leave their abuser, because they are unable to survive without them. “Well, since this perceptual version of you only exists at Lumon, I mean, quitting would effectively end your life.” Unable to ask the outside world for help. “They’ll all be Kier’s children.” Broken again and again… and always for. Their own. Good. (“And that is all that I am.”)

[thesturniolos]

guilty pleasures (part 1 )

m. sturniolo x reader

authors note: this picture is actually sickening, need him too bad 🤞

this is all creds to my bae @iheartchrissturniolo thanks for the idea hun < 3 (part 2 including your idea yet to come)

summary: matt has a bit of a crush on his best friend, he’s fantasising ;)

warnings: smut, swearing !!

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

she looked heavenly by the pool today, irresistible to the point where my heart ached. i knew i couldn’t have her, i’ve only been reminding myself everyday for the past 6 years and it’s agonising.

the way the droplets of water fell off her golden skin, the bikini that accentuated her curves, oh so perfectly. and knowing i chose it for her was like the cherry on top of the cake. blue- my favourite colour - and hell she knew it when she bought it, she even told me. “i wonder why you picked this one” i remember her slight giggle after she said it, voice like silk, one that plays in my head at night.

she drags her hand through her hair, shaking it a little to get rid of the water, and boy do i wish it was me doing that. for me to be the one to look after her, to do the small things that weren’t so small to me. her eyes are closed and even though she’s been in the water, her makeup remained flawless - not that she needed it, she was absolutely gorgeous with and without.

she didn’t think this however, always telling me how she wishes she looked like anybody else. if she could only see what i see, just for a second, she’d never think that again. she’s better than any supermodel, the ‘prettiest of girls’ according to society weren’t a touch on her. plus, they didn’t come with her personality- she’s a real life angel and i’ve been blessed with even being in her presence.

i would spend every minute and every hour of my day telling her every little thing i love about her from the colour of her nails to the shape of her lips, i don’t care about the dents in her thighs or the stretch marks on her stomach, she’s perfect.

she’s walking closer to me with an arm outstretched, my eyes landing on the matching tattoo she has with me and i smile. i sometimes forget we had that done, which almost instantly brings me back to reality that she is and always will just be my best friend. i cannot afford to lose someone as special as her which is why i have to push those feelings to the side, as much as we want to be free.

her being so close to me and looking at me with those eyes, dark eyes that could mean so many things, made my cheeks blush the slightest red and i become desperate to hide this. what kind of friend blushes like a crazed guy in love when they look at them? it’s just a look, god.

“you got a towel?” there was that voice again, a voice i wish was in my ear forever. it wasn’t high - pitched nor was it deep, it was just in the middle, soothing. reminds me of the times where she held me whilst i cried, the bestest friend there is. reminds me of when she was so utterly drunk and slurring over her words, what was it again?

 ╭┈┈┈┈╮

“matt” she prods at my arm, waking me up.

“wassup” she frowns looking at my tired state, moving her hand to push hair out of my eyes.

“i’ve got a secret” i frown now, it’s 3am goddamn.

“what’s that”

“you promise you won’t tell anyone?” those little doe eyes drive me crazy, keep looking at me like that and i’ll have an accident.

“i promise” she leans in closer to my ear, her hot breath on my skin.

“i had a dream about you the other day” now i’ve piped up. i don’t care about the time or the sleep in my eyes, she fucking dreamt about me, i’m wide awake.

“oh yeah? good or bad?”

“depends”

“what’d you mean, depends?” once again, driving me crazy. she just knows how to do it.

“well, it depends how you take it.”

“go on.” i’m begging for this now, i need to know what the fuck happened, it’s killing me.

“well, we were doing something,” she twirls my hair in her hand, not looking me in the eyes yet all i can focus on is her and her words. “something best friends don’t do.”

“like what?”

“fucking.”

╰┈┈┈┈╯

held a chokehold over me. every night when i got in to bed i imagined her sleepy self, squirming about in her sheets to the idea of me pounding into her. suddenly i didn’t feel so bad about the hundreds of wet dreams i’ve had ‘bout her, we’re even.

but it only made me more delusional that we could actually be something. she was drunk and it was a dream, i was being dramatic if i thought it was actually something.

“yeah, it’s just there.” i say, pointing to the floor. she bends down to pick it up and i get the best sight of her boobs, pressed against the fabric of her bikini, pushed together ever so slightly. they looked so smooth, so pretty. something i just couldn’t take my eyes off..

“hello? matt?” she swipes her hand in front of my face and i’m so utterly embarrassed, knowing i’d been fixated on her tits. what an assy thing to do, how do i even begin to explain something like that?

“i- uh- i’m sorry! i wasn’t-“ she smiles at me and reaches out to scruff my hair, once again her boobs being directly in my face. is she doing this on purpose? because i’m about to cum in my pants.

“i take it you just really like your choice of bikini, hm?” she laughs, moving the towel to rest it on her hip as she turns around and struts off towards our house. she fucking knows what she does, not just to me but everyone.

i’ve been ignoring the poking in my pants for a while but it’s more prominent then ever now and i need to do something about it or i’m gonna come undone right here right now. it might be pervy but i quite literally cannot be around her when she’s close to naked, my mind travels to the dirtiest of places and to be honest, i’m careless.

if she’s going to act so calm about riling me up like that, then i’m gonna embrace the way she makes me feel. how she makes my cheeks hot and the wet patch that forms in my boxers when she whispers in my ear or now, shoving her boobs in my face.

praying that my jeans cover my painfully obvious hard-on, i quickly walk into the house, making a bee line for my bedroom, desperate to do something about what was happening in my pants.

“you okay, matt?” shes looking at me with a frown, the towel in her hair now as she begins to dry it, still wearing that flattering bikini that is just about to tip me over the edge.

“mhm, i- um, just need to do something.” i look around to see if my brothers are anywhere to be seen, something to distract me from this conversation, i so desperately need to get to that bedroom.

“oh? why’d you look so flustered?” she says with a smug, little smile.

“no reason. i just- i just need a second.” i go to walk away. as much as i would love to stay and talk, right now that is not what i need.

“need my help?”

tags: @strniohoeee @sturnsbaby @sturniolopepsi @malsturns @mattslolita @mattitties @mattsbratt @mattsturniolos @mattsturniolosgf @chrisdevora @christinarowie332 @chrisolivia4l @ilovemattsturn @sturniolossmut @sturnioloswife @sturniolosstar @freshlovehacker @kirby0strombolli @recklesssturniolo @lovingmattysposts @oversturn @ilovemattsturn @urfavstromboli @estelleswrld @strawberrysturniolo @dailysturniolo @deatthmatch @hoesformatt @justangelheree @klarasmith @kvtie444 @cabincorematt @caitifilms @bluesturniolo333 @mattsturnioloswattpad

[la-gotica-fantasma]

Nineteen writing tips I've picked up / been told -

~ ( Disclaimer : I am not telling you what to do or what you can and cannot do. Writing is personal, stylized, and a vessel for self-expression. Your writing is YOURS suga, and however you do it is beautiful. This post is just some advice I've found insightful, and maybe you could too. ᓚᘏᗢ ) ~

★ If you cannot tell if your story is connecting - read it out loud

★ If you have a really good idea, and you are practically itching to write it right now - then do !! Jot down that amazing idea and then connect all those frayed wires.

★ If you want the reader to be attached to a character - let that character be imperfect. Let them be selfish, overzealous, clumsy, or naive. / Let their good traits have bad days.

( examples include, but are not limited to; )

Savior-complex: Pushing too hard to help someone and hurting them more.

Patience: Being left high and dry.

High tolerance: Other characters overestimating their ability to tolerate anything.

Selfless: 'Character X' putting themselves after others to the point that 'Character Y ' has to forget about themselves to be able to keep 'Character X' afloat.

Bonding: Building an unhealthy reliance with one another.

★ If you want a character to be [emotionally] complex - let their emotions conflict. / Let morals be mixed into their dilemma (if they have one). / Try not to let the plot overshadow the characters inner conflict.

★ If you have a work in progress that you want to finish, but can't find motivation to - that's okay !! You're allowed to wait, and you're allowed to come back later with a bajillion ideas !!!

★ If you have plot holes - don't overwork yourself trying to getting rid of them !!! There are plot holes in stories that are TRUE, it'd be impossible to fix all plot holes.

★ If you are writing first person / thought - give their thought process a voice. How do they think? How do they structure their sentences? What phrases do they often use?

★ If you are writing stuttering, people rarely ever stutter "L-l-like..... T-t-this." - Stuttering is usually the repeating of the same part in a sentence, going back on it, like they're editing their sentence. / Space in between words, breathing, preparing. / Filler words !!! "Oh- I- I just-.. uhmm.. I was- I was just giving.. an example."

★ Don't 'CAPITALIZE' dialogue to show that they are yelling / shouting / screaming - we can convey yelling with how we phrase their speech, exclamation marks, etc.

★ Don't be afraid to make a character have hate for another character - nobody can like everybody. It can add personality and makes the character all the more realistic for the reader

★ Sensory details are always great to have in your work !!! But in action scenes - having less sensory detail is almost always more immersive.

"Why?", Because if a character is in an active sword fight with another character, their focus wouldn't be on the way the moonlight spills through the mesh curtains, or how their hand feels against the handle.

Putting those details before or after is so much more realistic and lets the reader grab and hang on to what you have to say, instead of a zip line with loose handlebars.

★ Don't be afraid to use tropes - it's not cheating in the slightest, you are the one writing it. Nobody else could've used the trope like you would. / You can use tropes to your advantage; readers find security in tropes, let the reader think "I see this often, they'll _____" and then totally 180 them.

★ Kill "Show. Don't tell." - you can do both !! It will be right either way, but always choosing one or the other disengages the reader from certain aspects.

★ Kill "Said is Dead" - you can lack the word "said" just as much as you can overuse it !!!

★ It isn't just about if a character coaxed, agreed, revealed, or proposed the dialogue. - It's also about how they did it. Was it soft? Sand papery? Rich? Confident? Hesitant?

★ Chaos doesn't solve 'everything' - but it solves a boatload.

★ Your story doesn't have to have a happy ending for the main character.

★ If a scene feels random or forced - check if you have motive for the scene

★ If you think of yourself as a bad writer, or you're self-conscious of your writing, remember - that no matter what, you will always be a better writer than Colleen Hoover.

~ ( Reminder : If you live by any of the things I mentioned, this is no hate to you. I am not shunning you, nor the way you write. Your current writing and your future growth is beautiful. But, if you like Colleen Hoover you can block me. ᓚᘏᗢ ) ~

[kvetchlandia]

Uncredited Photographer Soviet Red Army Physician Examining Newly Liberated Prisoners at the Auschwitz Murder Camp 1945

Today marks the 80th Anniversary of the Red Army's Liberation os Auschwitz.

"A ghastly sight arose before our eyes: a vast number of barracks (in Birkenau)… People lay in bunks inside many of them. They were skeletons clad in skin, with vacant gazes. Of course we spoke with them. However, these were brief conversations, because these people who remained alive were totally devoid of strength, and it was hard for them to say much about their time in the camp. They were suffering from starvation, and they were exhausted and sick. That is why our interviews, such as they were, had to be very brief. We wrote down the things they told us. When we talked with these people and explained to them who we were and why we had come here, they trusted us a bit more. The women wept, and – this cannot be concealed – the men wept as well. You could say that there were pyramids on the grounds of the camp. Some were made up of accumulated clothing, others of pots, and others still of human jaws. I believe that not even the commanders of our army had any idea of the dimensions of the crime committed in this largest of camps. The memory has stayed with me my whole life long. All of this was the most moving and most terrible thing that I saw and filmed during the war. Time has no sway over these recollections. It has not squeezed all the horrible things I saw and filmed out of my mind…" Alexander Vorontsov, a member of the Red Army film crew that witnessed and documented the liberation of Auschwitz.

"Never shall I forget that night, the first night in camp, which has turned my life into one long night, seven times cursed and seven times sealed. Never shall I forget that smoke. Never shall I forget the little faces of the children, whose bodies I saw turned into wreaths of smoke beneath a silent blue sky.

Never shall I forget those flames which consumed my faith forever.

Never shall I forget that nocturnal silence which deprived me, for all eternity, of the desire to live. Never shall I forget those moments which murdered my God and my soul, and turned my dreams to dust. Never shall I forget these things, even if I am consigned to live as long as God Himself Never. " Elie Wiesel, "Night" 1956

[mesetacadre]

Hey do you think you could watch and give your throughts on youtuber Jonas Čeika video "marx was not a statist"?

Thank you

Quite honestly, the title alone already betrays some amount of anarchist metaphysics, the concept of stateism is a purely idealist notion which only works if you are a liberal about authority. But regardless, I still watched the full thing.

The video starts with a very semantic-focused discourse on how marx never used "socialism" to mean the lower phase of communism, and way too much time on the terms transitionary period/DotP as if they weren't two terms that refer to the same thing. In the case of socialism/lower phase of communism, I think he's obfuscating. He focuses the discussion on whether Marx used a certain term in the same way we do now. This would be like spending a good 5 minutes of a video presenting, with an almost accusatory disposition against modern communists, how the bolsheviks called themselves social-democrats, pretending like the terms haven't simply evolved. He promises an "active engagement with marxist theory" and he starts by arguing semantics. He even acknowledges this possible criticism, but you also then have to defend why that criticism is not valid, instead he acts like merely acknowledging it will make that criticism invalid. I'm also spending this time on this specific point because, later, he also forgets how Marx used the word "socialism".

When he does define the lower stage of communism, he engages in a very mechanic and economicist view, with the simple train of thought: No money (replaced with vouchers) > no capital to accumulate > no classes > no state. I think that just by asking how these vouchers will be regulated and how access to wealth restricted to the use of those vouchers, the conclusion that the substitution of money necessarily leads through that chain to the disappearance of the state becomes, very transparently, downright infantile.

In his point about how the Paris Commune changed Marx's view on the state, he cites excerpts in a very misleading way. The whole point starts by pointing out that, in the preface to the 1872 edition, the experience of the Paris Commune led Marx and Engels to the following analysis: "...the working class cannot simply lay hold of the ready-made state machinery, and wield it for its own purposes". This, along with a disregard of the importance of the specific policy points they outlined in the manifesto, and the importance of absolute centralization, means to him that Marx and Engels, actually, completely disregarded the use of the state on the road to communism. To quote Lenin: "Listen, comrade from Tiflis, one may prevaricate, but one should know the limit...."

What the video doesn't directly address (and although he talks about the text extensively, It's important to cite ideas where they actually come from), is that this quote, although it appeared in the 1872 edition of the manifesto, comes from Civil War in France, a longer text on the Paris Commune. This is a more complete context of that quote that the video never gives [ID in alt text]

That quote is the beginning of a chapter in which Marx describes how the Paris Commune governed itself, and how it broke with the series of revolts that happened throughout the period of feudalism, how the class character of the Commune marked it as the significant event that it is. It is true that the Commune's aspirations for the entire world was for its form to be replicated even in the smallest hamlet, and it may even be true that this influenced Marx to generally reject centralization of the state. However, what the breadtuber obviates throughout the entire video, is that a small state is still a state, and furthermore, that revolutionary strategy is not dictated by what is right or wrong, but by what can be done to advance the cause of the emancipation of the working class. It is one thing to reject the state outright, and another very different thing to acknowledge that it is necessary to take control of the state to emancipate the working class, even if you abstractly oppose the concept of a state. Not only to take control of the state, which is the point of the original quote, it is necessary to create our own worker's state, in whichever form it best suits the concrete reality: "the working class cannot simply lay hold of the ready-made state machinery, and wield it for its own purposes". Jonas says that the proletariat should, instead, create "radically democratic working class institutions". These gentlemen think that when they have changed the names of things they have changed the things themselves.

Instead of understanding that point, he goes even further. Jonas has understood that, by praising the measures taken by the Paris Commune (which, let's remember, failed after two months!), Marx and Engels began to believe that "[the state] is by nature bourgeois". Maybe Jonas started reading Bakunin instead of Marx without realizing, this is perhaps the most liberal and historically illiterate portion of the 30+ minute video essay. Again, comrade from breadtube, one may prevaricate, but one should know the limit. In fact, Marx even says in the same text being discussed: "It is generally the fate of completely new historical creations to be mistaken for the counterparts of older, and even defunct, forms of social life, to which they may bear a certain likeness". The irony needn't be explained.

As if Jonas hadn't misconstrued the text and Marx enough, he shows the quote: "... although there is nothing socialist in them except their tendency...". At first I was unable to find this specific quote in Civil War in France, not in any chapter nor in the footnotes. As it turns out, this quote is not from Civil War in France, as Jonas so succinctly cites it, but from the draft of the text. First, it's simply dishonest to cite such a cherrypicked line from a draft and passing it off as something Marx published.

There might be a myriad of possible reasons why this idea did not make it into the final text, but in order for the audience to correctly follow along, it's necessary for them to know where an idea comes from. Beyond this, which I find misleading enough, the video makes the point that with this line, Marx is clearly differentiating between a dictatorship of the proletariat and socialism. But hang on, didn't Jonas spend the first 5 minutes of the video explaining that, in the times of Marx, socialism was understood to be a reformist and petit-bourgeois stance? So, then, how could this out of context, unpublished line be Marx making a distinction between lower-phase communism and the dictatorship of the proletariat? This is the phrase's context [ID in alt text]:

The actual point of this portion is not even related to what Jonas makes it out to be. Here, using "socialist" as another name for utopians, Marx makes the distinction between previous movements of utopians, those socialist sects, and the Paris Commune, because even though their goals, the emancipation of labor, may appear similar, there is nothing socialist [utopian] in them because their means are not utopian, but the beginnings of scientific communism. So, then, not only did Jonas go back on the first point of the video to dunk on the evil stalinists, and not only did he completely remove the context of a phrase by failing to cite properly, but he also failed to even understand the points made in the text he's cherrypicking. Is this what passes for "active engaging with marxist texts" in breadtube?

After this portion, which I still consider the better half of the video, he veers into talking about socialism in one country, first by, again, very blatantly removing important parts of the texts he talks about. The quote he shows, from Principles of Communism, is as follows: "Will it be possible for this revolution to take place in one country alone? No. By creating the world market, big industry has already brought all the peoples of the Earth [...] into such close relation with one another that none is independent of what happens to the others [...] It follows that the communist revolution will not merely be a national phenomenon but must take place simultaneously in all civilized countries [...] It is a universal revolution and will, accordingly, have a universal range." It is true that Engels states that communist revolutions cannot be confined to the national scale, but those ommissions hide a lot of nuance that is very relevant to discussing Marx and Engels' positions on the national/international question. This is the full quote [ID in alt text]:

Marx and Engels were unable to completely and correctly analyze the imperialist form of capitalism, which hadn't yet fully crystallized, economically speaking. According to them, since capitalism was the most developed in places like England or France, the proletariat was also more developed, and the socialist revolution would happen first in these places, and propagate outwards. This notion was proved false by both theory (Lenin's imperialism) and by practice. Lenin identified that, as imperialism settled down as the highest stage of capitalism, the imperialist chain could only be broken at the weakest link, which was Russia at the time. I'm insisting on Lenin's theories because Jonas also claims Lenin to the "not statist" camp, and the video very quickly loses any originality by defaulting to the narrative of Stalin betraying Marx and Lenin by rejecting the world-wide revolution in the short-medium term as a pre-requisite for the establishment of a dictatorship of the proletariat. I think that going more in depth into this will only make this response unnecessary longer, but to end it, I think it's apt to end with a Lenin quote which directly refutes this anti-Lenin betrayal notion:

A United States of the World (not of Europe alone) is the state form of the unification and freedom of nations which we associate with socialism—about the total disappearance of the state, including the democratic. As a separate slogan, however, the slogan of a United States of the World would hardly be a correct one, first, because it merges with socialism; second, because it may be wrongly interpreted to mean that the victory of socialism in a single country is impossible, and it may also create misconceptions as to the relations of such a country to the others.

Uneven economic and political development is an absolute law of capitalism. Hence, the victory of socialism is possible first in several or even in one capitalist country alone. After expropriating the capitalists and organising their own socialist production, the victorious proletariat of that country will arise against the rest of the world—the capitalist world—attracting to its cause the oppressed classes of other countries, stirring uprisings in those countries against the capitalists, and in case of need using even armed force against the exploiting classes and their states. The political form of a society wherein the proletariat is victorious in overthrowing the bourgeoisie will be a democratic republic, which will more and more concentrate the forces of the proletariat of a given nation or nations, in the struggle against states that have not yet gone over to socialism. The abolition of classes is impossible without a dictatorship of the oppressed class, of the proletariat. A free union of nations in socialism is impossible without a more or less prolonged and stubborn  struggle of the socialist republics against the backward states.

On the Slogan for a United States of Europe, V. I. Lenin (1915)

Overall, I think this video lacks any kind of rigor or respect for the texts discussed. Citations are pretty predominantly misleading or incomplete in some way, he extrapolates fantastical ideas from texts he doesn't appear to understand, and more in general, the way the video is concienved reeks of dogmatism, the arguments overwhelmingly boil down to "Marx said this (according to me), so it must be true". There is no actual engagement with texts, but there isn't even a will to engage with history. Marxism does not end with Marx and Engels, it's a philosophical and political framework that extends beyond the gospel of incomplete quotes. Even if Marx and Engels really did believe such anti-materialist ideas as "the state is bourgeois by nature", it would not change the facts that the history and experiences after the Paris Commune should also have weight in order to reach conclusions.

[cherryinsalemverse]

Thinking about Jason Todd/Reader Soulmate AUs!!

Feel free to use them if you like any (I meant the writters! Not you AI using lazy *ss bushes!!) Tag me if you write it bc I'm gonna be reading them!!

Jason Todd and Reader meets on their dreams. Well, kinda 'dreams'. He is dead and she forgets everytime bc you are not allowed to see the afterlife as a person. He comes back and doesn't know who she is and why he knows her.

Jason Todd and Reader are tied by the red string of fate. Reader gains the ability to see/touch the red string and yanks Jason from the after life. She can use it to tie people for a short time. People think it is magic! She can tie people with invisible strings!! Actually it is just reader using their fate against them! The strings are only physical when she touches them. It would be funny if she is not a hero/vigilante but Justice League asks them for help anyway! *coughs* let's bring back Wally *coughs*

Jason Todd and Reader can only sleep together. They don't need to be next to each other, one simply cannot go to sleep if the other is awake! A good enemies to lovers blooming. How so? Well, Reader is definetly going to go join a anti-batfam villian team! People who are really mad at not being able to sleep! They want to sleep so bad that they even considered killing their soulmates!! *gasps* Not really, but they just want to fall asleep at night like a normal person. Not in the middle of a lesson nor not while working your 9 to 5!! A team of people who terrories the city with sleeping gas and robbing pillow companies to give everyone a soft pillow!!(Bernard is here ofc) Don't ask why they don't just gases themselves. They didn't think about it.

Jason and Reader in a universe where you can only grow with your soulmate. You are 15 y/o, FOR YEARS. Everyone thinks you are just petite; young looking *insert turkish 'minyon' here* Well, explain to your coworkes/parents/friends why the hell you grew up in one day! From A to a D!! And no one in your family even has the genetics!! You can thank to the lazarus pit for all the strach marks later for sure.

Jason and Reader lock eyes for the first time and sees the life of each other. Jason sees the future, their children; their love and devotion; the life he thinks is so good to be true. Reader sees the past; the street life; dying; gaining a family just to lose it again. Both are scared to be together yet only they understand eachother.

Jason and Reader switching bodies in the most inopportune times. Jason dies?? WRONG!! It was the Reader! The first time they switch bodies she dies in it! Jason has to go all the way to the Gotham to talk with Bruce. It takes YEARS! Years of him thinking he killed his soulmate and feeling guilty of it! So guilty that he can't let her family find out! *he lives as Reader till collage* Well meanwhile Reader is trying to survive. Panics so hard she doesn't even speak *looking at you YJ Jason* and takes care of her baby brother Damian. Jason becomes Red Hood not only to avange himself but avange Reader as well. And she just goes after Damian to meet with the rest of the family. ''Your son? Oh, yeah, well. We switched bodies years ago'' *they switch bodies back once they meet*