#also i have like very little desire to even be friends w men let alone fucking. date one

[invisiblyvisiblejay]

after extensive thought (not finding any men actually attractive) i have concluded that i am in fact a lesbian. if ur wondering how that works w my gender ive decided since i think gender isn't real and i like the people a lesbian would like in a queer way therefore it makes sense for me to call myself a lesbian. also i present pretty fem nowadays anyways so the attachment to womanhood that's assumed with that label isnt like. that much different than when i wear something and i look very obviously like a woman imo. and i feel like thats the label that most accurately captures the group of people im attracted to without like. a lot of extra explanation. and like 80% of the time i call myself queer anyways lol

[shegetsburned]

❝ a man of honor ❞ w. kento nanami 𝜗𝜚.

BRIDGERTON AU⌇

• — dearest reader. this author finds herself bearing the most curious of news, for it isn’t without surprise that the viscount nanami has caused ruckus amongst the young ladies of the ton, upon his arrival. gracing us with his presence, he has not yet announced himself eligible for this social season and, i believe, does not intend to do so. but doesn’t love find itself in the most peculiar of places when one least expects it? • — a/n. let’s just say that bridgerton has, yet again, a hold on me, also, i am in no way an historian nor a perfect writer but i do hope y’all can enjoy this different little piece.

.nsfw.

˗ˏˋʚ viscount!nanami who, despite himself, had found the need to return to london for a matter of affair and is set on departing as unbothered by the social season as he was when he first arrived.

˗ˏˋʚ viscount!nanami who has never taken his social standing lightly and knows he’ll be the object of many desires considering his status as a seven and twenty years old unmarried man. described as a man of honour, suited for the finest lady, but buried in his work and duties.

˗ˏˋʚ viscount!nanami who attends most balls, making quick appearances here and there and avoiding hungry mamas at all costs, partially hiding in the gardens or engaging in business conversations with other suitors, always eager to return to his chamber. that was until he found the most beautiful excuse to not participate in any courting competition and declare himself ineligible to the ton. you.

˗ˏˋʚ viscount!nanami who had found you hiding in the very same place he was, that night. a very debutante, who didn’t feel yet a need to marry. you had approached him in need of advice, not in need of a husband. you knew who he was but had no intention nor expectation for any kind of courteous exchange. you just wanted to know how he was successfully avoiding many of his greatest admirers without breaking a sweat.

˗ˏˋʚ viscount!nanami who did not give much thought to the both of you talking at first, it was easy and the conversation never felt forced. you did feel like a breath of fresh air. you had attracted attention amongst the men of ton quite easily with your gorgeous smile and attentive gaze, which kento had immediately noticed but when you felt like he was really listening to the words you uttered, you became quite acquainted to the viscount’s presence.

˗ˏˋʚ viscount!nanami whom you had invited for dinner with your family and was confirmed to be quite the gentleman everyone said he was. well, at least, that’s how he appeared before your family. from across the table, he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. the way you parted your lips to eat or placed your mouth so carefully around the gorgeous glass to drink hypnotized him. your warm smile and laughter were music to his ears, therefore most of his attention was directed towards you.

˗ˏˋʚ viscount!nanami whose thoughts becomes dreams in a matter of weeks. your body draws itself in his head. every time you graze his shoulder with yours, his heart flutters. he’s almost ashamed to admit that he’d rather sleep than awaken alone in his bed when he’s been having the most indecent dreams about the gorgeous debutante he’s unable to have. your words resonate in his sleep until they become pleads and moans he wishes to hear.

˗ˏˋʚ viscount!nanami who despite his title, his honor and even his words, became aware of the fact that he wanted much more than being friends with you. although he didn’t want to burden you with his occupied life, he couldn’t help but boil when one curious man came to your encounter, asking for a dance. you weren’t a fool and quickly noticed the viscount’s name written all over your dancing card moments later. you did wonder how it would look to the eyes of everyone else, but he surely didn’t care.

˗ˏˋʚ viscount!nanami who has privatized your company not only by dancing with you all night during the ball but also by inviting you to his estate in london. it wasn’t long before you realized how occupied he was but also how he tried his best to escape your chaperone and have you all to himself in his bureau.

˗ˏˋʚ viscount!nanami who loathes the thought of not having you close to him. he had offered no ring nor promises, yet here he was, teaching everything your mama hadn’t. taking away every ounce of purity you once displayed to every other eligible suitor with his careful hands. you could still feel his lips along your neck and his hold around your waist hours after the act.

˗ˏˋʚ viscount!nanami who truly believes he is a man of honour, even with your legs parted for his hand to explore your most sensitive places with your naked back against the walls of the library of his estate. the sound you make, he wished no other men to hear when it graced his ears, hurrying his movements and developing the most intense of needs. he trailed your back ever so gently to detach and remove your gown with such delicacy it made your whole body shudder.

˗ˏˋʚ viscount!nanami who, despite engaging in such shameful activities, roams around you, just as before. having eyes only for you and ignoring every little distraction that came his way. the rest of the ton surely did wonder how the most anticipated pairing of the season will officially come to be. many questions lingers in one’s mind when two individuals such as yourselves spend so much time together. had he purposely made you wait to attract the other suitors’ attention and find you as desirable as he did? had he already compromised your integrity and claimed you for himself in secret? he did fancy himself the gentleman, so why hadn’t the big question been asked already?

surely, you did know it wouldn’t be the last time you’d be able to call him "my lord" and it certainly wouldn’t be the last time he’d be able to look at you in the eyes and call you his lady.

© shegetsburned 2024 please do not repost/edit/or claim my writing as your own.

[hoeforhao]

babbyyyyy HONEYYY when are we getting flip sip strip?

it's here finally lord😭every month I used to get a ask regarding when will flip,sip or strip come out and I felt so guilty for pushing down such a good plot to the basements but yeah!!! FINALLY!

Flip, Sip or Strip🎲 // Wonhui Fic // Part 1

ᥫ᭡ pairing: sub!wonwoo×fem!reader×dom!junhui

ᥫ᭡ genre: smut with barely any plot,minors dni, threesome,college au, bestfriends to bedfriends, sexual games

ᥫ᭡tags: rough sex, double penetration,oral(both m and f receiving),pussy slapping,breast play, use of pet names,degradation kink,orgasm denial, use of explicit language.

ᥫ᭡synopsis: what happens when you are ganged up by your bestfriends to play a game of pleasures.

ᥫ᭡part: 1/2

ᥫ᭡word count: 1.4k+

ᥫ᭡banner credits: @classicscreations

ᥫ᭡authors note: ik ik this was supposed to be a oneshot and I started writing today with that aim only but got disturbed so many times that I lost the flow, and in no way I wanted this fic to come out rushed and without the tension building up, so I'll release the rest with another part. But this part can also be read as a stand alone. Hope y'all will enjoy!!!

Permanent taglist: @joonsytip @feat-sun , also tagging @junhour cuz ik you'll enjoy this ☻️

Fic taglist: @tommolex @tara-drabbles @meowmeowminnie @chwenott @mewheree @freshdetectivenight @ffumatthew

If y'all wanna be added to the taglist of part 2 or the permanent taglist, then just drop a comment under this. thank you☆

"Yah Jun that's sheer daylight cheating boy" your cushiony hands land a hard smack onto the oldest's upper thighs, making him let out a sharp gasp, mostly from the fear of letting you see the growing tent in his trousers.

"If that means discarding one more piece of clothing down that velvety skin of yours, then I'm ready to beat jeonghan hyung's records" Junhui blurts out with absolutely no shame or filter, resulting in your cheek muscles tensing up to flush a subtle pink.

Yes you three were playing this weird game that Jun himself suggested with his obvious intentions that were unknown to the rest two of you, till now!! For you what seemed to be an innocent, maybe a little spicy game, to draw the boredom out of you, wonwoo and jun from not having dates to go to senior prom, now had you sitting infront of these two men in just your pants and lacey purple bra.

Not that you minded being half naked before your best friends though, as being single for more than 10 months have now elevated your libido to the very edge. Apart from that, Jun was incredibly hot and flirty to not have your legs slump whenever he had his hands on you or even his mere words were enough to have you sweating down your core.

What you did not know or anticipate was the second older's burning lusty eyes towards your nearly bare torso, digging wells into that cloth that was guarding your enchanting assests from him. "Are you two done with the bickerings? Let's finish this quick pls"

"Why Jeon? So that you can go play that goddamn games of yours? Or are you...." Jun shifts his gaze from you onto wonwoo, resting his palms on the younger's thighs, giving him a teasing look with the hope to ignite the self controlling hold he has been trying to put onto his desires.

Wonwoo immediately shys away, trying to hide the red creeping up onto his face and following the feeling down to his pants, pushing off Jun's hands in the process. "Or w-what?"

"Or are you scared to show y/n how hard you are from just watching her strip down her top, hmm?" Jun moves his palms to wonwoo's lap once again, drawing light circles on his upper thighs, dangerously close to the strain in his pants, while his eyes fall on you whose mouth was quite literally left hanging open after hearing the older's shameless blabberings.

"Rest those muscles of yours baby, they would need to work a lot later" and with that Jun rolls the dice once again! Lord looks like all the heavens were against your sanity today, as the result flipped out to your defeat, for the third time in a row, and you very well knew what that meant - losing the very last piece of deceny left on your body.

Looking up at Jun with those doe eyes of yours, hands playing with the waistband of your jeans, hope aflame in yours eyes that he would ask you not to provide a free strip show for them anymore.....but alas! The only thing you receive is a nod from him directing you to pull those pants down your legs right now.

"Fuck you Jun! I'm sure you fixed the game just to tease me!!"

"You will soon babygirl, don't worry. But just not only me" he finally gets up from the floor, pulling along wonwoo by his shoulders, while turning towards you to see you now standing up by yourself to get those jeans off of your body. Your eyes were too focused on the material of your clothing to notice the two men towering above, their faces dangerously close to yours.

Being done with taking off your final piece of modesty, you finally lift up your head only to be met with Jun's breath fanning against your nose, while wonwoo blocked out the little space you had left to run away from this rendezvous.

"W-what!" you try to back up only to be hit by the paddings of the couch behind, nearly falling down if it wasn't for Jun's biceps holding you up, although the other option would've been way better, now that you feel his hands creeping up your bare back and play with the hooks of your bra.

"You think being stripped down to this purple lingerie with two men infront of you, more appropriately starving men, be the climax of tonight's adventures?" the oldest now pushes you down to the couch, spreading your legs with his to stand between them, all this while directing wonwoo to kneel down beside you by the handrest.

"We're in for a long night, right Jeon?" Jun snakes his arms behind you to slightly arch up your body, giving him enough space to discard your bra off of your chest quickly, while his knees were now bend up against your clothed cunt, grinding them on your clit.

"Kiss her wonwoo. Show her you're not just a loser who sits in his room and plays games". His remark was fueling enough for wonwoo's ego as he swiftly descends his face down to yours, trapping your lips into his, hands going around your jaw to hold you as close to him as possible.

The little bit of doubt and control that was clouding your mind from jumping right in was now cleared off as you get a taste of wonwoo, his mouth taking yours in completely, eating out your face as if he has never felt something as sweet as your lips.

The sweaty cat's hands tightly tug onto your hair as he feels you moaning into his mouth, from the sudden sensation of Jun's cold fingers drawing over your bare nipples, the sharpness of his ring leaving behind a trail of painful pleasure on your tits.

"Won't you help the poor boy out y/n? Ease out the painful boner that was caused by this sultry body of yours, hmm?" Jun takes one of you hands that was trapped behind you all this time and guides it to wonwoo's crotch, holding it down to push against his bulge constantly, making the younger bite on your lips from the heat building up.

You couldn't believe yourself as you were now palming wonwoo's dick from over his pants while Jun was playing with your boobs, spitting on them for his hands to glide down easily, pinching your nipples between his digits as he kneaded onto your mounds like he was gonna make bread out of them, knees never taking a break from rubbing your pussy.

"F-fuck y/n, I don't....don't wanna cum in my pants....stop pls!" wonwoo quickly pushes you back, detaching his lips from yours leaving behind a string of saliva still joining the two of you, as he fears that if you move your hands against his dick once more, he'll come undone then and there, which he definitely did not want.

The sudden absence of his warmth on your mouth and the absurd behavior of the elder, makes your eyes flash by a confused look, turning towards Jun as if to ask him why did wonwoo behave like that and what was their next step.

"I think it's time for us to take this to the bedroom. This couch is too small to accommodate both of us in you" your mouth literally hangs open at this as you slowly come to terms with the fact that tonight you were about to be railed by two men simultaneously. Not that you hated the idea tho.

Observing the accepting look on your face, Jun asks wonwoo to take you in his arms and bring you upstairs to the said bedroom, as he knew quite well that your legs were probably too weak to walk themselves up, after all the action his knees have been giving you for the past fifteen minutes.

Wonwoo carrying you like a sloth with your arms tied tightly around his neck as you rest your head in the crook of his neck, feels like nothing more than a dream for you. His broad shoulders shielding you from all the chaos of this world, his embrace feeling like home and his dick poking your butt from beneath - all was like a made up fairytale for you until Jun's voice decides to pull you out of the haze.

"What are you waiting for Jeon? Throw her on the bed. Let's see how well her pussy takes two cocks at the same time"

[wolferine]

Unforgivable - Part 2

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: When the reader loses their temper, it causes them to commit an act they can never take back...

Warnings: Violence, blood, torture, death

Word count: 2372

Part 1

Tags: @yeetus-thyself @phoenixofash @lilclownx @yeeterthekeeper @alessiapn @diaryoflife

AN: Please read to the end before you come after me. :)

Everything is a blur. The last thing you remember is cradling Natasha in your lap and seeing the pain of betrayal in her eyes. You did this to her. You couldn’t control your anger and now she had a bullet—shot out of your gun—in her back. You hurt her and there was no way you could ever forgive yourself for that. 

You finally let Tony get close enough to take care of her, because you realized you don’t deserve her anymore. 

You run away from the Avengers Tower, your leg slowing you down, but you don’t care. Each step feels like a knife rubbing against your bone, but even that’s not enough to distract you from the pain in your chest. It feels like someone has torn you open, ripped your heart out of your ribcage, and thrown it into a bonfire.

But you have no one to blame than yourself.

Tears stream down your face as you stumble through the streets, eventually finding some privacy in a nearby forest. Your sobs echo through the trees as you crawl hand over hand, your uniform shredding open on bushes and branches. The trickle of a creek calls to you and you dunk your bloody hands in the freezing water, desperate to wash yourself of your failures.

You can’t believe what you’ve done.

The scene of Natasha falling to the floor plays over and over in your head and you would pay anything to unsee it. You curl into a ball, wiping your nose on your knees. You deserve all the pain and misery for your actions. You’re so caught up in your head, thinking about all the ways you can punish yourself, that you don’t notice the group of men sneaking up on you from behind.

“Over there! Over there!” 

“By the creek, see?”

“Wait—that’s an Avenger?”

“Looks like someone had a bad day.”

“Hey, Y/N.”

At the sound of your name, you finally lift your head, only for the butt of a shotgun to slam into your face. Your nose breaks and blood fills your mouth. You turn away, not even interested in protecting yourself. If they killed you, you would thank them.

“Aw, come on. At least give us a reaction,” someone says.

The shotgun butt smashes against the back of your head and you wouldn’t be surprised if it cracked your skull. Someone kicks your leg where you were shot, and you bite your lip to hold back a scream.

“Well, this is anti-climactic.”

“Hey, if it makes our job easier, I’m not gonna complain.”

“I still think Hammer’s weird for wanting Y/N over the other Avengers.”

“Given the circumstances, he couldn’t really be picky—”

“Stop standing around and get to it!” someone yells. 

The men surround you, punching and kicking every inch of you. The bulletproof vest of your uniform does little to lessen the impact of their blows. You feel bruises forming along your ribs and your rattling teeth bite your lips bloody. It doesn’t take long for you to black out and the peace is blissful.

***********************************************************************

Sometime later—you have no idea how long—you jolt awake, finding yourself strapped to a metal chair in the middle of a dark, concrete room. A man in glasses and a gray suit with white gloves stands in front of you. 

“Hello, I’m Justin Hammer,” he says, offering a hand, then withdrawing when he realizes your arms are tied to the chair. “Sorry, force of habit.”

You stare at him. Your tongue pokes around the inside of your mouth and you notice some teeth are missing. There is a painful crick in your neck every time you try moving your head and every breath you take feels like a razor blade scraping the inside of your lungs.

“You’ve probably never heard of me, but I’m very familiar with you and your work with the Avengers. But the reason I have you here today is to talk about this man.” Hammer pulls out a folded photograph from his pocket and shows it to you.

It’s Tony Stark, but you have no desire to even think of that man anymore.

“Your best friend, right?” Hammer teases and you curl your lip at him. “What’s wrong? He’s the one who got you a spot on the team, isn’t he?” You look away from him. “I heard what he did to your girl,” he continues. “That must’ve felt like the betrayal of the century.”

“What?” you ask, confused as to what he’s referring to.

“I heard about what happened at the Avengers Tower. So tragic.” Hammer crumples Tony’s photograph and drops it on the floor. “Romanoff didn’t deserve that.”

“W-What are you talking about? Is she okay?” Your bottom lip quivers in fear.

Hammer kneels in front of you. “She’s dead, Y/N.”

“No, no…” You feel like he’s punched you right through the chest. “T-That’s not possible.”

“I’m sorry. I know she meant a lot to you.” Hammer stands again.

“How do you even know what happened at the Tower?” Given its security, there was no way news like that reached the public. At least not the truth of it. Maybe Hammer was just trying to mess with you.

Hammer motions behind him and a blonde woman steps forward from the shadows. Her face jolts your memory, but you don’t remember exactly where from.

“Recognize her?” Hammer asks. “She actually works for me, but she’s been pretending to be a SHIELD agent for some time now. She was right outside the door when your little spat with Stark went down.” Your mind flashes back to when you returned from the mission with Natasha. On your way to the private Avengers’ quarters, you remember passing the same blonde woman right outside the door.

“She heard everything that happened inside,” Hammer says as the blonde woman retreats into the darkness again.

“N-Natasha’s…She’s…She’s not dead,” you stammer.

Hammer shakes his head. “She went into surgery after Stark shot her, but due to the placement of the bullet, there were some complications and she coded on the table. They couldn’t revive her. That part was all over the news.”

You feel so sick you want to vomit. “I…I killed her?”

“No. You didn’t kill her. Tony Stark killed her.”

You start gasping for air, only worsening the pain in your chest. “No—But—He—I’m the one who pulled the trigger—”

“But you weren’t aiming for her. You were aiming for Stark, and he’s the one who deflected the bullet into her,” Hammer says. “He’s also the one who sent you two on that mission to begin with, wasn’t he? The reason you lost your cool and pulled your gun out? Think, Y/N. All of this is Stark’s fault.”

But the sadness of thinking you’ve killed Natasha is too overwhelming. You can’t focus on anything but your own guilt. You will burn in hell for this and you won’t even mind.

“Listen to me, Y/N!” Hammer snaps, striking you across the face. His rings cut into your cheek and blood fills your mouth. “I hate Stark just as much as you do. He’s been my business rival for years and I need someone to help me take him down. Who better than you, a former friend of his, who knows how to hit him where it hurts?”

You start crying at the thought of having to exist in a world without Natasha Romanoff.

Hammer tries getting your attention by slapping you again, but you’re unresponsive. You’re too lost in your grief to process anything he’s saying, and eventually he gives up, promising to come back another time to reveal his master plan to you.

It takes an entire month before he can even communicate with you. Your depression is all-consuming and their threats on your life have no effect. They’re startled to learn you actually enjoy the torture because you believe you deserve it after what you did to Natasha. But Hammer is relentless and finally figures out how to manipulate you into his bidding.

Six months after your capture and the accident, you finally crack. Your agony and pain turns into pure rage and hatred for Tony Stark. You can’t bring Natasha back, but you can get revenge on the man who took her life. After training with Hammer’s technology, which is almost as advanced as Tony’s, you’re deemed ready to be let out in the real world. Hammer personally asks for your help to kill Tony Stark, and it’s an offer you accept gladly.

***********************************************************************

Three months after the accident…

Natasha wakes up and looks to her right, disappointed to see the bed still empty. She’s tricked herself into believing that one day you’ll show up, ready to pick up the pieces and continue where you left off. But nothing has been the same since you left.

She sits up and turns the lights on. She scoots to the edge of the bed and carefully lifts her body into the wheelchair parked there.

The bullet had struck her lumbar spine, shattering her L1 vertebrae and paralyzing her from the waist down. Tony requested help from the best doctors he knew, but even the greatest modern advancements couldn’t repair her spine. He had personally designed her wheelchair, and she knows she should be grateful to still be alive, but she’s never felt so helpless and alone. 

After the accident, you ran off and no one could locate you. Secretly, she held onto the hope you would return one day, but she knows your guilt and shame are keeping you away. She wants to tell you that it wasn’t your fault and that she doesn’t hate you, but you’re not even giving her that chance.

Tony made the public announcement that Black Widow had retired from the Avengers. No one knew she had been paralyzed, nor that you had unofficially resigned from the team. Without you, without Black Widow, Natasha didn’t know who she was anymore.

She leaves her bedroom and goes into the kitchen. Tony arranged most of the food and dishes down to her new height but she feels like she’ll never adjust to not being able to stand anymore. She locates a bowl and a box of cereal and rolls over to the table. She chokes down dry Cheerios and pours her second bowlful when Tony walks in.

“Thank God you’re finally up,” he says. “When you’re done, I have something to show you.”

“Y/N?” She perks up.

“Uh…no…”

Natasha knows Tony blames himself just as much as she does for her accident, but it wasn’t his fault either. She wrestled between anger and guilt, sometimes blaming you, sometimes blaming him. But in the end, it’s easier to blame herself. She should have stopped you the moment you took out your gun, regardless of whether or not you pushed her. But she got so caught up in the moment she froze, and now she was paralyzed and you were gone.

“Just come down to my workshop, okay?” Tony disappears again.

With nothing better to do, Natasha takes the elevator down to Tony’s workshop. She doesn’t visit often, but when she does, she’s always impressed by his latest inventions and gadgets. She rolls down the aisle of old Iron Man suits displayed in glass cases, admiring the subtle differences in each one.

“Where are you, Tony?” she calls.

“Over here!” He waves her down from the other end. “I’ve been working on this for a while, and I know it’s a little premature, but I couldn’t help myself.” Tony stands next to another Iron Man suit, but it doesn’t quite look like it will fit him.

The suit is curved to fit a woman, black and red instead of Tony’s iconic red and gold. Natasha sees a red hourglass emblazoned on the belt buckle.

“What…What is this, Tony?” she asks, tears in her eyes.

“It’s an Iron Widow suit,” he says. “Or, whatever you want to call it. You’ll have to get in and test it out for yourself, but it’ll allow you to walk again and…be an Avenger again.”

Natasha wishes she could throw herself into his arms, but pulls him down to her level instead. “Thank you,” she whispers, wiping her face. She never thought she would be able to serve as an Avenger again, but she’ll take the opportunity if it means taking her mind off recent events.

“Ready to try it out?” Tony presses a button on the side of the suit and the suit opens up, bending into a crouched position so Natasha can get in it like a chair.

 She smiles for the first time since the accident.

 “I am.”

***********************************************************************

Six months after the accident…

Natasha is in the gym, lifting dumbbells on a bench when Tony walks in. Although she now has a legitimate excuse for skipping leg day for the rest of her life, she now has to make sure her upper body is twice as strong to make up for it.

“Look who decided to slide through my DMs this morning,” Tony says, shoving his phone in her face.

Midnight. Central Park Carousel. Come alone.

The text was from you.

“Oh, my God,” Natasha says, setting the weights down. You haven’t even texted her since the accident, and she’s a little hurt you didn’t reach out to her first. “What’s this about?”

“I have no idea.” Tony shrugs. “I know it says for me to go alone, but since it’s from Y/N, I wanted to ask if you wanted to tag along.”

“Of course.” In a way, Natasha feels like the text is really meant for her. Central Park was where you had asked her to be your girlfriend. That couldn’t be a coincidence.

“I’ll need you to be on your A-game. We have no idea what Y/N’s been up to these past six months. I don’t know if you’re gonna like what we find,” Tony says.

Natasha has spent countless nights wondering where you’ve been and what you’re doing. Now she has the chance to find out. “It’s going to be okay, Tony,” she says.

He shakes his head. “Just so you know, I’m praying more for you than me right now.”

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

Click here for Part 3!

AN: I never went to medical school, so forgive my medical inaccuracies.

[inkedtae]

orange tree ⇾ knj, kth. [M]

𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ ares!namjoon x mortal!reader (f.) x apollo!taehyung

𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ greek god au, established relationship (w/namjoon), smut, pwp, filth, poly au, 18+

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ⇾ he built you a pathronon but you would like to expand its patrons… at least just for the evening.

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ⇾ 7.4k

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ⇾ dom!namjoon, tattooed!namjoon, silver mullet!namjoon, dom!taehyung, blonde mullet!taehyung, sub!reader, a lil bratty!reader, rough sex, public sex, outdoor sex, angry sex, unprotected sex (wrap it to tap it), humilition kink, size kink, pain kink, jealousy, threesome, overstimulation, degradation, double penatration (in one hole), exhibitionism, voyeurism, multiple orgasms, oral (m. and f. receiving), deep throating, cockwarming, choking, manhandling, body worshipping, pussy worshipping, basically reader worshipping, pussy slapping, cum eating, clit biting, spanking, teasing, begging, spit play, breath play, breast play, pretty much an ungodly amount of filth :)))

𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇'𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒 ⇾ i’m a hoe :))

❧ banner by ⇾ @kimtaehyunq​ (thank you so much friend~)

❧ beta’d by ⇾ @nottodayjjk​ and @uhgood-dooghu​ (a million thanks to these cuties~)

❧ le playlist

⟶ commission for @jamaisjoons through ChangesWithLuv, supporting BLM

Beyond the holy village of Barthes, within a meadow of sun dropped marigolds, you lounge topless underneath an orange tree. Cool winds cut the late summer heat. The breeze hardens your nipples and prickles your exposed skin with goosebumps. Hair tousled, you bite into another orange slice. He did not care for citrus, until he tasted your lips. Then, he planted you an orange tree. He promised you good fortune and a long life. 

“You will want for nothing,” he told you. “Just, behave.”

Behave. A word he’d used often with you. Jaw tense, he’d hiss the warning while fondling your breasts or cupping your sex. When he is furious, he is boundless. He fucks like a titan, remnants of a gracious god completely withering away. Tight grips, rough pounds, and seething threats that promise such painful pleasure, Kim Namjoon is a red hot planet of sexual destruction. So angry, so lustful, he serves you a cockful of discipline and then some. You are helpless. To his wrath, you are subjected. But, you don’t mind. The truth of the matter is, your body is always alive when buried under his. 

“You’re a minx,” a deep voice states behind you. 

You sit up, fruit juice trailing down your arm. Lips in a pout, you gaze up at the tall man behind you. Blonde hair, symmetrical face, sharp collarbone, broad chest and - he smirks - and, oh so sinister. How could a delicate smile be so devilishly sincere? And he brands you a minx… what does this handsome man know of you? How long has he been watching? Swallowing your bite thickly, you try and fail to fathom his beauty.

He pushes himself off the tree trunk and circles around you. His eyes dance around the thin, red blanket, the array of fruits, and braided loaves by the wicker basket before trailing up your exposed legs. A shiver snakes around your curves. The way his eyes devour you makes you think he did not stumble upon this hideaway accidentally. Namjoon took extensive measures to ensure no one would. No, this man knows. He must. Why else would he not question your presence alone under the only tree? He accepts it, expects it. 

Pushing your sticky arms around your breast, you attempt to somewhat conceal yourself and ask, “Are you a traveller?” 

He shakes his head. The wind plays with his hair the moment the sun emerges behind heavy clouds. Its natural glow lights up his figure, in all its holy glory. Well-toned, pierceless, inkless, chiseled features are all too accurate to be human. He is pure. There is very little scarring on his skin as well. He looks down right angelic, prophetic, utterly godly. 

Has Namjoon really entertained your fantasies? You first made the suggestion off hand, completely innocent in your phrasing, until his face fell. Stone fierce gaze slicing through your soul, you couldn’t help but describe an ocean’s worth of desires involving more than one man by your side. You were fucked to tears against the tree until it’s branches were bare and the ground was covered in ripe fruit and loose leaves. You thought that would be the end of it. But now, as you carefully stare at the god while he shamelessly sips on your near nakedness, you wonder just how wrong you might have been. 

“Have you come to watch?”  

“To worship.”

Your arousal slicks your thighs. Pressing your legs together, you suppress the giddy shivers that caress your spine. Though excited, you really can’t believe Namjoon did it. It was a joke but, scanning the sun god’s frame once more, you’re glad he didn’t take it that way. Face flushed, you lie back in your previous position. On your side, breasts on full display, you toss your hair aside. As your lips part to question the details of his intentions, you catch a familiar silhouette by the sea, in the distance. Flickering your gaze between the two men, you wonder if this new god was sent to test your loyalty or limits? The figure nods. You smile.

Attention returning to the golden god, you ask, “Apollo, is it?”

“Taehyung,” he corrects.

“Is that the name you prefer I scream?”

He pauses. Those mismatched eyes widen at your intrepidity. Dazed in confusion, he scans your frame once again, as if reprocessing your presence. He’s underestimated your wits, you realize, but the newfound understanding in his eyes reassures you that it won’t happen again. Good. He’s a quick learner. 

Quirking a brow at the blanket beneath you, he asks, “May I?”

You nod once. He licks his lips twice, bites on the bottom one, then seats himself beside you. On his side, bare chest on display, he takes in the scenery from this new angle. Flowers bloom under a peachy dawn, and the vast fields of greenery wither to sandy shores where the sea waves as a way of greeting. His cocky stare lingers on your boyfriend before settling back to your little shrine underneath the orange tree. It’s a parthenon all on its own, with you as the center of its divinity. This detail seems to intrigue him more than it should, but you assume it might also have something to do with being watched. 

Taking his hand in yours, you feel the dimming warmth of the setting sun. Who’s manning the chariot, you wonder, and would he be willing to let you ride it? Your bones tremble beneath your flesh at the impression of a distant growl. Oh, right. You almost forgot Ares can read your mind. Being something of a soulmate, he’s connected to you in ways other gods are not. Another growl slices through your thoughts. Jealousy sounds so good on him. Hearing his frustrations, knowing he’s enjoying the way you indulge, flusters the anxious bundle of nerves at your core. 

Taehyung chuckles. Inches away now, his hot breath fans over your cheek. Fingers trailing up from your hand, along your arm then to your neck, he wraps his hand around your throat. He presses his thumb in the divet just under your chin, teasing a choke but never actually going through with it. You wonder what Namjoon must be hissing by the sea. What kind of curses is he throwing? Just picturing his furious eyes and cliffed jaw tickles the pit of your stomach. 

“You’re precious,” Taehyung whispers, lips pressed against your chin. “I understand why he hides you from us.”

Us? Olympus knows of your blasphemous citrus temple? Usually, this kind of revelation would grant you a lightning bolt to the heart and an eternity in Tartarus. Only this wakes something different in Taehyung. His breath shallows, erection pokes at your thigh. He’s aroused by the idea of worshipping someone as powerless as a mortal. Or perhaps, you wonder as Taehyung nibbles on your skin, he simply adores displaying his power. Either or, you decide to make the most of what your Ares has granted you. Gaze finding his broad frame again, you let out an exaggerated gasp. 

Namjoon flinches. However, it isn’t until you press your body against Taehyung’s that he cringes. He shifts his weight, fist clenched by his sides and you swear you can see steam hovering over his head. Namjoon is livid. But, Taehyung is oblivious. Too consumed by your pleasure, he tightens his grip on your throat and trails his open-mouthed kisses down to your breasts. Nipple between his teeth, Taehyung groans in hunger. Tongue teasing, he licks to play, not to soothe any of the stings. Your toes and legs hook around his waist. Hips rolling, you tease a preview of what you have in mind.

Taehyung shifts half an inch away though. You know it’s not because he didn’t enjoy the gesture, the throb against your hip reassuring you just how much he would really enjoy it. It still hurts your pride, however. Twinges of humiliation taint your soft features. He offers half a smirk as a means of comfort. 

“He told me you’ve got quite a mouth.”

Is that an excuse or explanation? In both cases, it’s weak. He traces your face, fingertips so soft you almost forget the indirect rejection. Charming, his tiger starved gaze reflects hints of amusement. You’re easy prey, a fact that crumbles your courage. He is not here to coddle your pride, to serve the goddess of this naturous parthenon, but rather to obliviate it. A pitiful pile of pleasure is all he wishes to make of you. Though, now you wonder, is he doing this because he wants to, or because he’s ordered to? 

Eyes darting between Apollo and Ares, you swallow thickly. The wondrous glow in Taehyung’s gaze makes you pause. Perhaps you’ve been too hasty. Perhaps they were both counting on that. The humiliation returns ten fold and prickles your skin upon realizing how careless you have been. Too quick to show your keen interest in devouring a different dose of daylight, you did not make Taehyung work as hard as he should’ve. And knowing that must have been what Namjoon was expecting only festers your heart with anger. This isn’t an opportunity to indulge, you conclude, but to reprimand. The both of them want to sip on your submission. The role of a meek mortal amuses them more than it should. It turns you on more than it should. So, you pull away more than you should. 

Laying back on your elbows, you redirect your gaze to the sky. You can feel both pairs of eyes studying you. Taehyung props himself up on his forearm and looks over at your suddenly calmed features. It’s almost as if you’ve never exchanged a word at all. 

“Funny,” you restart, all cards hidden this time. “He never mentioned you.” 

Angry, confused, perhaps both, Taehyung stares. He blink, blink, blinks before he fully registers what’s been said. You can feel Namjoon’s delight though. The pride he has in the way you sassed a rival resonates deep in your core.

As you shimmy out of your dress, Taehyung finally scoffs a chuckle. You attempt to ignore the way it lights your soul with desire and focus on Namjoon’s silhouette. He looks closer, lurking by the tall grass, though still near the sand. Fully naked, you try to school your features and pretend you don’t notice the way Namjoon’s jaw clenches while Taehyung’s falls slack. Your hands rests on Taehyung’s bare thigh long enough to make him shudder and your boyfriend growl. It’s almost all too easy to push Namjoon’s buttons. He hates it when you do something simply because you can. 

“You abuse your power,” he always tells you. 

And, with a smile, you always reply, “I don’t abuse anything, Joonie. You just can’t refuse it.” 

Taehyung seems to prove this statement now, falling prey to the way you toy with him. Half focused, you’re paying enough attention to him to feel his frustration. Displeased with the way you have your eyes glued on the god of war, Taehyung huffs and inches closer. 

“Do I need to plant you an orange tree?” he teases. Well, he attempts to anyways. The resentment in his tone seeps through instead. 

You bite back a smirk. “You can try.”

His eyes flash with annoyance. Chewing on the insides of his cheeks, Taehyung raises a brow. It’s hard to tell what he’s thinking, but you can safely assume he’s highly debating it. His eyes shift around the tree the two of you currently lounge under. Sparing you a glance, he scoffs. Perhaps he doesn’t think it’s worth it, you wonder. It’s no matter to you. All it really means is more time spent frustrating him, teasing him beyond- 

The ground crackles, splitting open with the presence of new roots. Bare branches rise and twist around the orange tree trunk. The deep green leaves sprout. Then, ripe figs bloom. They dangle closer to you than the oranges do. You don’t have much time to really admire them, however, as a loud rumble rattles your bones. The sound is enough to snap your fearful eyes to the seashore. Namjoon is gone. 

Shit. Have you taken this too far? Namjoon did plant this tree for you. He had never so much so as looked at another mortal. His allegiance, devotion, and adoration has been declared to you on more than one occasion. You are all he ever sees, thinks, breathes. Swallowing thickly, you mentally call him back. It’s all in good fun, you try to convince him. A quiet hum from the other side of the line is enough to soothe your anxiety. You lean back into the other god.

Taehyung couldn’t be less concerned. Instead of searching for Namjoon, as you seem to be interested in doing, he latches his lips onto your shoulder, a single hand cupping your breast. You gasp. Taking this as an encouragement to continue, Taehyung trails a wet arrangement of open mouthed kisses along your neck. Lips pressed to the shell of your ear, he hisses, “Quite a fucking mouth, indeed.” He digs his fingertips into the flesh of your breast and continues, “Might need some good dick to keep it in check.”

The thought is appealing. So much so, that you cannot help the way your eyes widen and glisten with interest. Having his cock shoved down your throat while he growls at the sheer sight of it alone has compelled your undivided attention. But, Namjoon’s rage still scratches at your bones, warning you against playing too much. 

You scoff. “Who says I don’t already have that?”

Taehyung does not reply. Not a smirk graces his lips nor breath escapes him. He simply leans in for a kiss. You find yourself giving in all too quickly. He slides his hand down to cup the space between your thighs and you cannot find it within you to push it away. In fact, you spread your legs further apart and tell yourself it’s reactive. The jolt of your hips up into his hand though… that might’ve been calculative. 

But the simple gesture of rolling your hips into his palm has shown all your cards once more. He reclaims the power, pulling away from the kiss and your sex. He clutches onto your hair, a deadpan expression the only means of emotion now. In huffing silence, he yanks on your hair, guiding your head down to his crotch. You hiss, the gesture proving more pleasurable than painful as you feel a fresh rush of your wetness further stain your legs. 

His silk skirt, pinned up and hanging from his hip by an arrowed, gold pin, lies in a disarried pile beside him. His huge cock is all that stands before you. He’s thicker than Namjoon, but, even with its impressive length, it does not compare to your boyfriend’s size. Taehyung is massive, but Namjoon is monstrous. 

Your mouth still salivates all the same. Tip oozing precum, Taehyung shoves your face against his balls. His thick scent rolls your tongue out. Heavy in lust, he mostly smells of lemons and cream. You’ve always adored citrus… Namjoon knows this well. And though you expected to feel your boyfriend’s anger at this revelation, all you feel on the other side is emptiness. You wonder where he’s gone. 

Or, at least you attempt to wonder. The moment you feel the impression of Taehyung’s weighty balls against your lips, all your thoughts dissipate. You swirl your tongue around each one before dropping them in your mouth. Suckling, drool dripping, your enthusiasm cannot be hidden any longer. Moaning maniactically, your eyes roll back.

Taehyung gasps and hisses. The peak of his groans, however, surfaces when you wrap a hand around his thick cock. You were ready to start pumping until you realized a single hand barely even covers half of him. Both hands wrapped around his length now, you twist and drag them up and down. Every so often, you tighten your grip a bit and let out a throaty moan. He shudders each time, legs trembling from your attention. 

On your knees, with your ass up high for any onlookers to easily see, the wind lashes at your heat. You squeal, then pull his balls out of your mouth to spit on his cock. The thick wad makes it easier to pump him. Brows furrowed, he runs a hand through his golden hair and shakily sighs… then his sight sets on something behind you. He smirks, white canines a dangerous nod to his power. 

A familiar hand rests on the small of your back, the other landing a harsh smack on your ass. You scream and fall forward onto Taehyung, face fully buried in his cock now. He laughs heartily, running a hand through your hair as a weak excuse for comfort. 

The hand behind you does not stop after one smack. It goes in for second, then third, and before you know it, your ass is burning with stings and pussy wetter than the ocean behind you. The pain ignites something viciously erotic, cradling your heart enough to make you whimper. It’s the idea of being used, you assume, and it only makes you perk your ass up higher. 

His raspy scoff makes you shiver, spine tingling with excitement. He gropes onto your ass and grunts, “Don’t try to be a good girl now.” 

Tangling his fingers in your hair, Namjoon uses this harsh grip to shove your face further against Taehyung’s crotch. He pulls back and tries again, making sure your mouth engulfs his friend’s cock this time. 

“You want to suck his cock, huh? Then fucking suck, you little slut,” he growls.

Your face flames with embarrassment. You can’t even bring yourself to meet Taehyung’s gaze. He merely laughs through a moan, leaning back on his hands as he watches you choke on his cock. You really can’t take him all in one go; you haven’t even found a way to take Namjoon in a single motion. But, your boyfriend couldn’t care less. He pushes your head down and keeps it there. Your jaw aches, throat burns, contracting around Taehyung’s thickness enough to make him throw his head back. Tears spill and spill and you foolishly think this will be the height of his punishment. 

Then, in he goes. 

“Such a wet little bitch,” Namjoon hisses as he pushes his cock into your pussy. 

You let out a strangled whine against Taehyung, much to his pleasure, and attempt to spread your legs, but Namjoon keeps them in place. They’re barely a hip’s length apart. The pain prickles against your pussy’s wall, making you gag a sob around Taehyung’s cock. The pressure of Namjoon’s huge dick behind you and the weight of Taehyung’s in your mouth trembles your posture. You shake under the intimidation and it doesn’t help at all that Taehyung’s dick is suffocating you. 

Namjoon pulls your head up the moment he fully enters. Gasping, you try to catch your breath. You inhale deeply each time, worried Namjoon will shove you back down on Taehyung’s cock without warning. Instead, he gives you a quick moment to breathe, ramming in and out of you like he’s riding a stallion. 

Taehyung, eyes half-lidded, admires the way you drool and babble all over yourself. You heave, holding his gaze long enough to realize he’s mocking you, tongue out and breathes exasperated. Then he laughs and Namjoon laughs, and your pride shrivels up. Dignity on the brink of shattering, you try to avoid his gaze, biting your lip to swallow your moans as Namjoon works his way in and out of you. 

But Taehyung will not have any of that. He nudges your wet chin back to him and teasingly pouts. “Is baby embarrassed?” he asks, tone more menacing than that taunting gaze of his. You glare at him, but he doesn’t seem fazed. Cupping your chin, Taehyung squeezes your cheeks to pucker your lips. “Answer me,” he seethes. 

Parting your lips, you’re about to confirm his statement when Namjoon grunts behind you. He  thrusts his hips particularly harder this time and your balance crumbles. You fall over Taehyung. He catches you with his lips, his hand trailing from your face to your neck and gripping onto it like he owns it. 

Namjoon is displeased. With a growl, he snaps his hips up, balls shoving their way in you too. Your teeth knock with Taehyung, causing him to grunt and glare at the god behind you. You watch him stare your boyfriend down while tightening his grip on your neck. He goes to say something, a curse judging by the placement of his lips in his teeth, but Namjoon pulls you out of his grasp before Taehyung can even get a syllable out. 

Replacing Taehyung’s hand with his own on your neck, Namjoon pulls you back up against his chest. His other hand wraps around your waist. Lips to the shell of your ear, he hammers into you and whispers, “Don’t go forgetting who you belong to.”

You hold Taehyung’s hard stare. His face reddens, cheeks drawn into his mouth as he glares. You whimper, pouting and nodding to Namjoon, but neither one of them seems convinced. Taehyung’s brows raise as if you’ve given him some sort of sign, and Namjoon’s hissing warnings against getting carried away. 

“Better not say his name.”

Out of sheer spite, you part your lips to utter the other’s name. However, the word is consequently pounded right out of your mind the moment it emerges. Neither god gives you another moment to develop a reply at all as they battle for your attention. A part of you wishes that each of them simply takes turns, but you already know how useless that would be. Neither one of them will be willing to wait and watch. Namjoon already slipped himself in, the act of watching being too distant for him. 

And it seems to be the same for Taehyung as well. He can’t sit still, can’t just watch you get ravished by someone else. You catch the annoyed twinkle in his eye darkening every time Namjoon makes you scream. Swallowing thickly, Taehyung shifts so that he’s lying by your knees and pulls the plump, upper flesh of your pussy apart. Then, smirking, he dips his head in and enthusiastically sucks on your clit. Teeth grazing, he bites and nibbles, drawing the most high-pitched squeals out of you. Your fingers tangle in his hair, pushing his face further against your pussy. 

Namjoon huffs a groan against your cheek. Pounding in full force, he loosens his grip on you a bit. Your hips jolt forward, Taehyung’s teeth clamping down on your clit. You cry out, both hands back over Namjoon’s arm. The god by your knees did not escape unscathed either, his lips slightly bruised from the hit. He drags his gaze up to you, glare deadly. 

Guts twisting in ecstasy and guilt, you whimper and shake your head. “Sorr-” 

Your apology clinches in your throat as Namjoon tightens his grip on it. “Shut the fuck up, you filthy whore,” he grunts into your hair. 

Taehyung catches onto Namjoon’s sly gesture quickly, hungry eyes aflame for vengeance. “Keep her still, or I’ll fuck her into the ground.” His deep voice tickles the swirling pit of your stomach. So rich and raspy, his dulcet voice guides you closer to your orgasm than you’d be brave enough to admit. 

Subsequently, Taehyung relatches his lips to your clit. Namjoon swallows enough of his pride not to shake him off again. And you shudder as high doses of ecstasy creep over your nerves. It pumps your veins with excitement, anticipation and sheer joy. Even when they’ve mocked you and used you as a pocket pussy- a set of holes, you cannot deny how horny it makes you for them. 

Namjoon huffs your name in your ear, whispering about your tightness, about how he knows how fucking close you are. “Baby is gonna cream,” he mockingly coos. “Do you want him to taste you? Are you that much of a slut, you want another man to taste you? He’ll get addicted.” Namjoon grunts thrice before continuing, “But you already know that, right? You want him addicted. You want him to worship that little cunt of yours, hmm?”

“Yes, yes, yes, oh fuck yes!” you screech. Whether it is in reply to his questions or simply a reaction to the dual assault of your pussy, you’re not quite certain. But, Namjoon is. And he’s irate. Shaking with anger, his pounds reach a pace unknown to gods, even Taehyung raises an impressed brow. 

Your next intake of air cinches somewhere in your throat. You try to scream, to cry, to make some sort of sound as your cum rushes out of you. Gushing, slouching, your pussy makes enough noise that your mouth doesn’t need to. Both men fall victim to it - to you - anyway. Squirming in Namjoon’s hold, there’s very little you can do. Your mind is foggy, vision blurry, but it doesn’t stop either of them. A distant clash of throaty moans fill the fields, though you can’t register much of that either. Your ears are ringing too much to hear more than your own heartbeat struggling to keep up. 

Taehyung growls, his hands constantly knocking against Namjoon’s. Your dazed gaze falls to meet his. Eyes blazed with sexual frustration, he claws at your hips and pulls you forward against him. Namjoon, however, keeps a strong hold on your waist. Your torso’s his for the taking. He grabs hold of your chin and whips your head back to him. 

“You look at me when you cum,” he seethes. “Or you won’t cum at all next time.” 

Half a breath escapes you in response, but it seems to be half a breath too late. Namjoon emits a raspy groan so sinister it would be a crime to simply call it a growl. He roars. You feel the vibrations of the sound in your spine, another dose of your cum rushing through you. Then, all too quickly, he lets go of you. It takes his hands off your chest for you to realize your legs gave out long ago. You instantly fall to your knees. Taehyung is quick to catch you in his arms. Lips inches apart, Taehyung looks ready to share some of his oxygen with you when Namjoon orders, “Turn her around.”

Taehyung glares over your head. Gulping, his lips twitch in a fake smile as he lifts you. You, however, cannot let him give in that easily. Besides, nothing is better than angering the god of war. His stubborn, victory-bound heart will not rest until you submit to him over Taehyung. And, throwing you into the enemy’s arms does not seem like he’s trying hard enough to win, to discipline you. So, after Taehyung turns you around in his lap, you press a passionate kiss upon his lips, slipping your tongue in for good measure. Taehyung snakes his hand between your legs too, fingers playing all too much for you to stay silent. Between kisses, you sneak a glance at Namjoon, finding Taehyung already doing the same thing.  

Towering over you, skin inked, nipples pierced, muscles flexed and slick with sweat, Namjoon huffs. His jaw is locked, a gesture you’ve learned isn’t at all meant to be comforting. With his cheeks sucked in and a brow quirked, Namjoon jerks himself off to the sight of you so openly defiant.

“Open your dirty mouth,” Namjoon orders through gritted teeth. “I need to clean it out.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, his fingers ceasing their movements as he cups your sex instead. “So dramatic,” he teases, earning a cold stare from Namjoon. 

You resist the urge to giggle, having to choose your battles carefully. Taehyung has already gotten too much attention anyways, you decide. Pushing his hand away from your pussy, you ignore the wet kisses Taehyung peppers upon the nape of your neck and gaze up at Namjoon with your mouth open. 

He bites his lip to keep from smirking. And, with a loud, chest drawn groan, he releases his load all over your chin and breasts. The warmth of his cum sets your skin ablaze. It feels just as thick as it tastes. Licking around your face, you try to swallow whatever you can get. A little smile breaks out on Namjoon’s face, swelling your heart with pride. 

However, Taehyung isn’t as moved by the gesture as you are. He tangles a hand in your hair and pulls your head back against his shoulder. “That’s enough of that,” he breathes over your face. Then he wipes the rest of Namjoon’s cum off with the pad of his thumb and pecks your lips. He rubs the cum into your nipples, teasing them between his thumb and forefinger. 

You almost forget Namjoon's presence. That is, until he grabs hold of your ankles and yanks you right out of Taehyung’s hold. With a loud gasp, you’re on your back, legs spread and Namjoon at the center. He gazes lazily down at you, like handling your body is a casual passtime. There is something glittering within that suspicious ease, however. Something cocky, angry, and terrifying. Hand around your neck, Namjoon jerks you off the floor and shoves you back into Taehyung’s arms. 

The golden god catches you with a grunt. He draws his brows together in confusion, silently questioning Namjoon. He parts his lips, but your boyfriend huffs, cutting him off. Namjoon grabs you by your bicep and turns you around to face Taehyung. 

After making sure your legs are spread and straddling the other god’s waist, Namjoon seethes, “The simplest instructions.” His warm tongue darts out to lick the shell of your ear. Between nibbles he continues, “You can’t even follow the simplest instructions. That can’t be easily forgiven anymore, baby.”

You’re not quite sure what he means, considering he’s never punished you in this position before. Usually, being on top is a reward. He grants you a sliver of control, consequence free, when you’ve been well-behaved. This level of generosity is a rarity. However, as Namjoon pushes you further into Taehyung, with you wrapped around his torso, you begin to wonder what kind of punishment you’re in for, and which one of them is administering it. 

Of course, these thoughts are fleeting as Taehyung’s fat cock prods around your pulsing hole. Sparks of bliss set to flames the nerves bunching around your clit. You shudder each time he brushes his tip against it. Petting your hair back just to grab it, Taehyung breathes a chuckle into the crook of your neck. He licks and sucks on your delicate skin like you belong to him. And for a split second, you almost think you do. The sweet, wet kisses and the way he eases into you only just has you forgetting that Namjoon is standing over you, watching as another god worships.

With a smack, your memories jolt back. The sting of both cheeks makes you all too aware of his presence now. You cry out, falling over Taehyung clumsily. The spank hit so hard, so fast that it even has Namjoon hissing from the impact. Even still, he smacks you again and again and again. “You still have no idea what you’ve asked for, do you?” he questions. 

You thought you did. You hoped you did. But, as Namjoon spanks you with added force, you realize just how right he is. You whimper into Taehyung’s shoulder. He’s kept his cock warm in your tight, clenching hole when Namjoon begins to get vicious with his spanks. Chuckling and mocking you in whispers, Taehyung finds your suddenly all too obedient state entertaining. It flames your face with shame, your entire body caught between wanting another serving of cock or slaps. He imitates your whimpers, coaxing more tears out of you before hissing, “If you had any real shame, you’d get off my cock and go suck your boyfriend’s.”

“She’s a fucking slut,” Namjoon answers, landing another slap to your tenders cheeks. “Why’d you stop fucking her?”

Some humanity flashes in Taehyung’s eyes as you nuzzle your face against his. He mutters something incoherent, along the lines of, “She can’t handle it.” 

“She can!” Namjoon grunts as he finally rubs your pain buzzed ass. A shaky whine escapes you and tickles Taehyung’s ear. “You can take it, right, baby?” he asks, digging his nails into your flesh. 

You whine in agreement. It’s not enough. He needs to hear you say- scream it. Grabbing a handful of your hair, he peels you off Taehyung enough for him to get a good look at your face. He folds his hands under his head, smirking at the sight of you so shattered by pleasure of being in pain. Face flushed, wet, cum stained and eyes innocent, your features fold in raptured anguish. 

Namjoon roughly kneads your right cheek while pressing the length of his cock against it. “Can you take the fucking like a good girl?” He mockingly coos. It juts a chorus of shivers down your spine. 

You squeeze tight around Taehyung at the thought. He rasps your name. Namjoon growls lowly, rubbing himself against you as he warns, “You’re not gonna make me ask you a third time, are you?” 

Taehyung shifts his hips, cinching your breath at your throat from the stroke of friction. Why did he have to be so big, so pretty and hot staring at you like that? Why’d you have to go tempting gods you know you can’t keep up with? You regret angering Namjoon, realizing that jealousy is the worst power trip you can feed a god. They both want to watch you fall apart, crumble into a pile of bones. Tears spill at the thought, pussy aching around a cock too big to adjust to. Every nerve feels so sensitive, so overused, yet you need to cum again. 

No. You can’t take it. But, you’ll be damned if you tell either of them that. And as Namjoon lays another sharp smack on your cheeks, tingling with pain, you circle your hips around Taehyung’s and cry out a broken, breathy and utterly desperate, “Y-es!”

Taehyung grips onto your hips, pulling you half out. You expect to be plunged onto his cock with a new degree of force, but find another one attempting to squeeze in as well. Namjoon’s monster cock pushing into your pussy alongside Taehyung’s. Your jaw drops, eyes roll back as that viciously delicious stretch strangles your soul with bliss. He enters you slow, but sharp, knowing full well that the both of them cannot fit. 

Neither cares. Both gods create a quickly speeding rhythm of thrusts into you. Body jolting forwards, breasts shaking over Taehyung’s face and ass bouncing against Namjoon’s hips. He hunches over you to groan your name in your ear, voice husky with lust and dominance. He repeats the word like a prayer. Every syllable drips slow out of his lips like thick molasses when his voice reaches such depth. 

You try to lean back into him, but Taehyung keeps you in place with the tight grip on your hips. “Stay still,” he grunts against your nipple. Then, he sucks on it, teasing the little nub between his teeth. 

You moan a little too loud at Taehyung’s ministrations for Namjoon’s liking. Both hands locked on your ass, Namjoon pushing your cheek up and against Taehyung. You lose whatever balance you had weighted on your arms, falling flat against the sun god with a squeal. His cock fully plugs into you and when he tries to thrust up against you once more, Namjoon growls, “Both of you stay still.”

A shiver tickles your spine with the wind. As Taehyung kisses your neck, you attempt to sneak a peek at your boyfriend over your shoulder and push your ass back into him. He’s sweaty and huffing. The peachy sunset behind him halos around his muscular frame. He’s so pretty when he’s mad, all those veins lacing his inked skin like little spider webs. His gaze finds yours, that annoyed look intensifying in his eyes when you wink at him.

And though it was completely innocent, it still switches something off in Namjoon. He shifts his tight grip on your ass to the small of your back then, all at once, presses down onto it with the entirety of his strength. A series of loud cracks elicit from your spine like the fire of a gun at the start of a race. And away go his hips as he rams in and out of your too full pussy. 

Screams and sudden sobs pour out of you and onto Taehyung as the both of you get shaken by Namjoon’s force. You know your back isn’t broken, blown out maybe, but definitely not broken. You just didn’t think this would be the result of his jealousy and anger. Did he think you were mocking him with that wink, with Taehyung? Perhaps some mocking did occur with Taehyung around, but he’s always liked your snarkier side. He tells you to behave because he knows you won’t and adores it when you don’t. But, maybe you did take it too far, and give into Taehyung too much. You really wish you can say, with all this overstimulating and teasing and taunting, that you regret it all. 

Only, you don’t. 

Clutching tighter onto Taehyung’s shoulders, your tears fall as freely as your broken moans. Namjoon smacks his hips over your ass, pounding your pussy like it’s just you two here. It’s not as though Taehyung is lying under you, obsessing over how tight you are and just how amazing you smell. 

“You know why he’s so mad right,” he questions quietly, voice strained. When you shake your head, he chuckles and whispers, “Because he knows how much better I make you feel.”

The whimper that leaves you was by no means a response to whatever Taehyung was going on about. Though he gives it to you great, he doesn’t compare to your boyfriend. You suppose Namjoon knows this too, somewhere within that deep connection you two share. Still, he holds you further down against Taehyung, practically melding your body into his, and thrusts at an ungodly speed just as he did when he caught you sucking Taehyung’s cock. 

You’re not sure either of them understand the load of pleasure they are washing over you. Taehyung has his giant cock stationed in your pussy with his tip pressing continuously against your g-spot as Namjoon’s monstrous cock jabs at it again and again. 

Body trembling, voice broken, you squeal, “I’m- ahhgh I’m gon-na cuu-uum.”

“Me too,” Taehyung husks in your ear. It has you clenching tighter. 

Namjoon scoffs through a moan. “No, you’re fucking not.” 

“But, Joon-”

A harsh smack against your ass silences your protests. “You know what to do when you’re close,” he grunts.

Yes, you do. But there isn’t much time to beg. You have two huge cocks in you and if he thinks he can coax some sort of plea- 

“Fuck,” you cry as he spanks you again. 

“ASK!” he roars, hands on your back just to make it crack all over again.

Drooling, whimpering, eyes rolling, you somehow find it in you to hold back your orgasm long enough to beg, “Please, fuck, just let me cum! Please, please, Namjoon!” 

“Just fucking let her cum,” Taehyung grunts. 

Namjoon snakes one of his hands up your spine, hips still ramming into you all the same, and latching onto your hair. Slowly, he peels you off of Taehyung and holds you against his chest. You screw your eyes shut in an attempt not to cream both their cocks. 

With his lips at your ear, he whispers, “Look down at him.” After forcing your eyes open and down at Taehyung, who looks all too pleased with your ruined state, Namjoon orders, “Thank him for a good time.”

Panting, lips a spitty mess, you whimper, “Thank you for a good time.” 

Taehyung rubs your thighs. “She’s just as fun when she’s a good girl,” he hisses to himself. 

Namjoon chuckles, wrapping his free hand around your throat. “You’re my best girl either way,” he whispers to you. The praise makes you shiver, your orgasm almost slipping right out of your control. 

“Please let me cum now,” you cry. “Please, I need it.” 

Taking a deep breath of your scent, Namjoon peppers little kisses along your jawline. “Shall we all cum together?” he asks before nodding to Taehyung. The sun god’s hips jolt back to act and soon each one is back to taking turns to smash your already too sensitive spot. 

You nod energetically. Truthfully, you don’t care if either one of them cums, just as long as they let you do it now. 

Taehyung shifts one of his hands further up your hips, his thumb working fast and small circles over your clit. You’re quaking, head thrown back against Namjoon’s shoulders, eyes rolling and screwed shut when Namjoon orders you to look at him. You force them open enough to watch a wicked swirl of power and lust gleam in his eyes. With a single breath, lips hovering over yours, he whispers, “Cum.”

Your vision spots black before failing all together as an extreme dose of ecstasy floods your senses. Their growls collide with your breathless screams in a cacophony of pleasure with each shot of cum they fill you with. And you return the favour, coating each cock with more cum than you think you’ve ever offered. In and out, they still go, desperate to leave you dripping with the impression of both of them for days. 

Namjoon spits in your mouth a bit and chuckles quietly when you still find it in you to swallow it. “You just had to be a fucking brat, hmm?” he groans as both his and Taehyung’s thrusts slow down. “Are you satisfied now?”

You hear his words and think that maybe you are processing them, but you really can’t find enough of your voice or energy to respond. Heaving, you know your body gave out well before he even got you in this position and blew your back out. You don’t even realize that you’re slobbering all over yourself until Namjoon licks it all away. Only little whimpers and whines manage to reply to him. It only strengthens that power blown look in his eyes. 

Taehyung suddenly pulls himself out of you. Or rather, Namjoon pulls you up and off his cock. Then, he stands up on his knees and presses a soft kiss to your mouth, despite Namjoon’s annoyed groan. “And thank you for such a great evening, my-”

“She’s not yours!”

You watch through somewhat blurry vision as the two gods glare at each other. Taehyung then glances over at the fig vines laced around the orange tree. With a smirk, he nods. His hands fondle your breast one more time before he grabs what little clothes he came with. Then, with the sun, he’s gone. 

Basking in the glow of the moon, Namjoon slowly pulls out of you. His touches are now all too gentle to even register, or maybe your skin is simply still on fire from such a rough fucking. Either way, he’s careful in how he handles you now. Cradling you to his chest, he helps you lay down. He kisses your forehead and mutters, “Take a deep breath.” 

You do so. Again and again. When you’re breathing somewhat regulates, your mind finally catches up with where you are now. Resting in Namjoon’s arms, his silk skirt draped over your body like a blanket, you gaze up at the stars. 

“He planted figs,” Namjoon mutters.

You shift against his chest before shrugging. “He did.” You’re not sure why that simple detail seems to tick him off so much. They’re just figs. 

“Do you still like oranges though?”

It suddenly clicks in your head. His anger translating into worry. Does he really think that you’d give him up for Taehyung? He should know you well enough to know he’s your world. And if you weren’t so sore or weak, you would have gotten up and picked the ripest orange and shared it with him. Instead, you turn in his lap, suppressing the urge to hiss at the sparks of pain running up and down your back, and press a soft kiss to his lips. 

“I love oranges.” 

He fights off a smile, but relief reflects in his gaze. “I’m sure they love you too,” he mutters like he hasn’t told you so before. 

It all doesn’t matter too much anyways. He’s yours and you’re his. No other god, no matter how many times they stop by, will change that. This is, after all, your orange tree. 

note; please do not leave hate towards me or any other readers. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work without my permission.

[bloodxbat]

(Part 1) Triple W Mafia George x Fem! Y/N series

Warnings: Swearing! that’s it really (unless I've missed something then please let me know)

Word Count: 2,174

Summary:  George Weasley is a renowned Mafia boss who took over from his Father Arthur once he retired, to carry on the Triple W mafia legacy. The only mafia known to be able to keep the Death Eaters (their rival mafia) at bay. However there is one item that they stole from the Triple W’s which George is determined to get back...his mothers necklace, the family heirloom. Y/N Greyback has been forced to comply with the Death Eaters wishes as her family are high up members. What happens when George and Y/N meet? And what happens when they fall in love?

Series Masterlist 

The lights were dim in the what looked like to be an old bar room, the red hue coming from the red lamp shades hitting the walls. Smoke from cigars fogging up the top half of the room barely keeping the floor below visible. At each table there were groups of men, all sitting in perfectly tailored suits, sipping on their glasses of whiskey, laughing and having a good time. At the back of the room however, sat one man, alone. His elbow propped up on the arm of his chair, his finger brushing over his top lip as if he were deep in thought. His other hand held the same glass as every other man in the bar, lazily not caring if it were to fall and smash everywhere.

The man, George Weasley, a tall ginger man who’s eyes were the dark but kind shade of brown. Although seemingly intimidating, George had a kind heart, if he seen someone being attacked or robbed in the street, everyone would end up feeling bad for the attacker by the time George was finished with him. He had no time for the scum who go out of their way to make someone else’s life a living hell in order for them to feel a small, temporary taste for a God complex.

George had only recently taken over the title of the Triple W Mafia Boss, when his father Arthur had decided it was his time to retire and pass over the family ‘business’ to one of his sons. George was one of 6 sons and one daughter within the Weasley family. His identical twin brother Fred was technically supposed to become the next Mafia boss, as he was the older twin. But, he had decided that his brother George was more fit to the job than he was. So, George gratefully took over the role and appointed Fred and his younger brother Ron, to be his sort of ‘Body Guards’ although, of course George was far from needing any form of help when it came to beating or killing a criminal, it was still always good to have a little back up sometimes.

“Hey Georgie, what’s the plan then? What we gonna do about these damn Death Eaters?”

George sat, not moving, deep in thought. ‘What was he going to do about those Death Eaters?’ He has no where to start, the bastards are constantly on the run. He was determined to find their whereabouts however, as they had stolen something very precious to him, his mother’s necklace. The Weasley family heirloom.

-

In a room that was very clearly abandoned and covered in moss and mould, sat groups of men and some women in black cloaks with peculiar pointed hoods. These people, in contrast to that of which the Triple W members, appeared extremely intimidating. The members of Triple W were intimidating,  but these were the sort of people no one would want to encounter in the streets, day or night. There was no smoke from cigars in this small dingy room, there was however and eye watering stench, that was so strong some of the Death Eaters swore they seen a slight foggy green haze floating around the room.

All cloaked members were sitting in a circle all surrounding their leader Tom Riddle, or as he likes to call himself ‘Voldemort’. A tall man (not as tall as George) with black, short curly hair. He wasn’t wearing a cloak like his ‘followers’ but was wearing something that looked more like a bath robe, it was all black of course to fit in with the rest. All were listening in carefully to what he was saying, all apart form Y/N Greyback, daughter of Fenrir Greyback, a man who is considered very high up in the Death Eater mafia. She was sat in the corner, wearing a contrasting blood red dress that hugged all of her curves perfectly. Her Y/H/C hair was curled at the ends in neat ringlets, and she had some makeup on but not too much so she looked ‘dolled up’.

“We all know that the Triple W are cowering out in some fancy old bar, trouble is we don’t know where, I’ve had a few out scouting round the area, unfortunately they have all been caught” Riddle speaks out gesturing and engaging with his followers.

“What do you suggest we do then sir?” Said Fenrir who was sitting right next to where Riddle was parading around the room.

“I say we send out our most valuable member, of course, real them in, make them vulnerable” he smirked

“You don’t mean…”

“Oh yes, but I do, your daughter shall make excellent bate my dear friend, for she wears what Weasley most desires” Riddle finishes

Y/N too busy sat in the corner reading an old book, didn’t even notice that every Death Eater members eyes were on her, all smiling to themselves.

This may actually work, if we send out Y/N who is wearing that incredibly expensive looking, diamond necklace, it may just lure the idiot ginger straight to us” Fenrir laughed.

So their plan was set, send Y/N as bait and hopefully George would follow.

-     George still hadn’t moved from the position he was sat in, he hadn’t taken a single sip of his drink, his eyes focussed and barely ever blinking. He was seemingly ignoring every person who tried to get a word out of him for some sort of plan to take down their Rival mafia. Sure he had killed a lot of spies they had sent out, but he was getting absolutely no leads on where exactly they were coming from, Riddle was smarter than he thought. It seemed he had Death Eaters coming from all over the country in all different directions and disguises. George had to find some way in order to track down where exactly they were based.

The sounds of other members arguing, specifically Fred and Ron who were standing right next to where George was sat, started to sound like a horrible ringing noise, it was driving him insane, how could he concentrate when these buffoon’s were yelling nonsense at each other.

“WILL YOU ALL SHUT UP” He yelled now getting up from his seat and walking to the middle of the smoky room.

“I can’t fucking think when you’re all fighting and arguing with each other on what we’re going to do. I am very aware that those bastards are close to finding us, alright? They’ve gained more members in the past few months than I can count on my two hands. Problem is, they’re coming from all over the country, there is no set direction from where they’re all coming from, meaning that they aren’t coming from their base. This brings us to our next problem, what we’re going to do about it. The only thing I can suggest right now, which I believe may actually be our only two options, is either we leave and find a new base OR we send out multiple people all round the general area of here just outside the boarders of this town where the forests are. Each mile will have two of our members, armed and ready to capture and interrogate anyone that comes from outside the town. This includes anyone who seems innocent to the eye I.e. a mother and child as we all know by now there are families who have been a part of the Death Eaters for years, long enough for them to welcome their children. If you see a mother and child however, you of course don’t attack them straight away, you take them for questioning and more importantly, you look for that damn skull snake monstrosity that they all have tattooed on their left forearm.”

George stands looking between each of his guys trying to gauge what they were thinking by their faces.

“So what’s it to be? Hands up if you think we should move”

No one put their hands up and George smiled knowing that everyone in Triple W are too loyal to the town of Diagon to even consider leaving.

“Good choice boys, now” he rubs his hands together “who’s volunteering to be part of the watch team?”

- Y/N couldn’t believe her ears when she heard the plan to trick Triple W into following her back to the Death Eaters. She also had no idea that the beautiful silver diamond necklace that hung lazily round her neck was the stolen Weasley heirloom.

The actions of her family disgusted her, she knew that what they stood for and what they were doing was wrong, but putting her in harms way all over a stupid rivalry, AND tricking her into thinking that the necklace she had was a gift. She felt so stupid for believing them, Y/N had no options but to accept that she was going to have to go along with their horrendous plan and bait George and other members of Triple W into following her back into her family and Riddle’s evil grasp.

“Perfect” Riddle smiled grimly when Y/N accepted

“But of course, we can’t just lure them in, in one mere night, no, you have to spread this out over the course of a few days. Have him become intrigued by you, follow you a little while. You’ll be staying in a place called the Leaky Cauldron, don’t let him see you in there, it’ll blow your cover. Make sure he only sees you walking through the streets. Got it?”

Y/N tentatively nodded her head

“Good, and then, when the time is right, you’ll lead him straight here. We’ll be in communication with you, don’t let me down”

Y/N shakily made her way to Diagon, bags packed and the necklace still hanging round her neck. She had since changed into a black, silk dress, helping the bright silver of the necklace stand out against the dark colour of her clothes, further, of course to draw George Weasley’s attention.

Once she had settled into her room at the Leaky Cauldron, she was given specific instruction to make sure she wondered round the street at night, as that is most likely when Triple W members will come out from wherever they were hiding.

Y/N took a step out into the cold crisp night air, her heels click clacking off the stone pavements. She couldn’t help but take in the beauty of the town, cobblestone roads winding all through it, the windows on each building slightly askew but somehow didn’t seem out of place. It was as if she were walking through an old victorian town.

Snapping her thoughts back to the task at hand, she pulled her black shawl over her shoulders more and continued to wander aimlessly round, trying to find some form of clue as to were Triple W were hiding.

- George was more than satisfied with the outcome of the meeting they had today. He had 40 people on a list to keep watch each mile surrounding Diagon, meaning that all 20 miles would be covered. They all had their instructions ingrained into their heads and were ready to get to work the next day. Fred and Ron as usual would stay within Diagon with George, communicating to those who were out surrounding the area getting updates and passing round information. George had also decided to send a few extra spies out, including his younger sister Ginny to be on the look out for any Death Eater members who may still be lurking round the town.

George, Fred and Ron made their way out of the old bar room, and onto the streets. George made sure that they each had means of contacting each other. Fred whom George would normally live with, agreed that they each should have their own flats or place to stay in order to cover more of Diagon, and therefore be more accessible to those out in the forest. With their last goodbyes and a few phone calls to book places to stay, the three brothers separated all going in opposite directions.

George headed down the street, his hands becoming slightly red from the cold, and he could see his breath in the air. The dim orange streetlights barely lighting up the path as he walked past the old crooked houses and shops.

Just a George turned the corner he bumped into someone, a woman, dressed in a black dress and shawl.

“Oh I’m so sorry miss, I wasn’t looking where I was going properly, these damn street lights barely light up 2 feet in front of you. Are you alright” George asked looking into her eyes with worry

“I’m perfectly fine, sir, thank you” she smiled back and walked away

But George followed her with his eyes, more specifically he followed her neck, because what was hanging from it made him do a double take. He knew those diamonds from anywhere, they way they glistened brightly in every light. Was that, his mother’s stolen necklace?

Taglist: @amourtentiaa​ @love-peachh​ @pens-and-roses​ @rosietoesy​ @comfortwriting​ @famdomhideout​ @dracofknmalfoy​ @pandaxnienke​ @georgeweasleysbabe​ @le-weasley-simp​ (MESSAGE/ASK IF YOU WANT TO BE ADDED)

[tornrose24]

Given the fact that Norman most likely had DID, the whole serum plot was (and is) unrealistic. I don’t understand why Hollywood loves pretending like DID is a made up mental illness when it really is not.

Before I get into this, I want to point out that I have little to no knowledge of DID and that I’m not super familiar with the lore of Norman/Green Goblin across Spiderman media as I am with other characters. Therefore I might not be the best expert on this subject. (Also, Hollywood tends to 'glamorize' or exaggerate certain things and pretend its easy to cure certain illnesses when in reality it's not. Or try to win sympathy points by covering those topics and failing miserably when they don't really understand what they are covering. Which is good enough reason not to waste money on those particular films as a movie-watcher).

My understanding is that Green Goblin functions as similar to how the serum worked in Captain America. It amplified Norman to superhuman strength and durability, but it also amplified the negative traits he had (basically what happened to Red Skull if he didn’t get deformed in the process).

I see the Green Goblin as a way for all of Norman’s repressed negative qualities and desires to come out... except I feel that Goblin is always there regardless of what Norman says (the board meeting and the thanksgiving dinner scene come to mind). He says that he doesn’t remember things whenever he is the Goblin... but Goblin is just simultaneously there alongside Norman.

In fact when I was a kid, it felt as if it WAS still Norman under the mask and that he was able to act out his darker urges. ‘The Goblin made me do it’ felt like an excuse. And in Spiderman (2002) it felt as if the Norman and Goblin were very much the same compared to how No Way Home tried to frame the relationship as more along the traditional Jekyll and Hyde set up. That was very much Norman at the parade in SM as it was the Goblin at the parade.

And that’s why I knew I’d be on edge when Norman would finally show up in No Way Home. Even though that’s Norman talking to May at F.E.A.S.T. and he looks like some harmless homeless guy.... it still felt like Green Goblin was still there and was listening/watching everything. Even Norman being alone with May made me uneasy and I KNEW he’d take a dark interest not just with M.J. (for being a variant of Mary Jane) but with the other super villains. When he was calling for Peter when Strange was about to press the button on the box, it felt as if Goblin was there wanting to play on Peter’s compassion (especially when he knew Peter wasn’t ok with sending them all to their possible death).

Then we get the scene where Goblin FINALLY pops back up in the apartment. You could argue that a part of Norman didn’t want to give up the powers that came with being the Goblin, or that the conversation with Otto accidentally triggered Norman’s second thoughts, which lead to the Goblin coming out. (I know Peter’s spider sense goes off the moment GG is supposed to surface.... but we hear GG emerging just before the spider sense goes off. And that moment either works in favor of this discussion or against it).

Also it’s worth nothing that GG doesn’t come out until after Otto is cured. Either because: 1) to see if Peter really was capable of curing the supervillains or not 2) GG wanted Doc Ock out of the way because he wanted to kill Peter and thus destroy another Spiderman that he could still corrupt 3) Norman still wanted to see his friend healed and wasn’t willing to let GG out at that specific time. (And this is assuming GG isn’t ‘just a split personality.’) To me its looking like a combination of all three for now.

To be honest, Norman is a lot more difficult for me to figure out compared to Otto. Both men are having their worst traits amplified when they are super villains, but Otto’s case involves an external force. With Norman... well there was probably some stuff there long before he drank that serum. Hell, maybe what happened in the lab when he killed that scientist caused enough trauma for him to try to create a second personality as a way to excuse himself from those actions. And in most media, Norman regards the Goblin as his ‘real’ self and that his civilian identity is the ‘mask,’ so maybe a bit of that could be in play. (But then again, there’s some other odd changes the movie made to Norman. I get they were trying to humanize him, but I’m baffled that movie!Norman didn’t think so highly of his wife while comic!Norman regarded Emily as ‘the only best friend’ in his entire life.).

Again, I’m not buying the ‘I don’t know what happens when Goblin’s in control’ because... it’s pretty clear that he remembers killing May at the very end when he does get cured. And he acts as if its his own fault and he’s not shifting the blame onto another.

One last thing before I go (and I’m sorry Anonymous if my response wasn’t good enough)... I remembered that Harry took the serum too. Except he never developed an alternate personality/identity like his father. And the visions of Norman happened towards the end of SM2 right before he found the Goblin’s room. So this further supports the possibility that Norman is trying to project his urges onto another ‘personality’ as a way to escape the horrors he causes when he gives into his urges.

[ac3id]

resilience [18+]

pairings: shigaraki tomura x female! reader 

summary: if you’re updated w/ the manga u prolly know shigaraki is now all beefed up phew. shigaraki stans stay winning. so here’s a fic where our struggling pro hero y/n wants to become stronger but working hard iisn’t working so she runs to shigaraki, the king of the underworld, to give her a quirk. shigaraki takes this as the perfect opportunity to teach a scum hero hero her place. 

warnings: dubcon-ish, shiggy is really mean, dumbification, size kink nasty nasty 

word count: 4k+ 

masterlist

From a young age, everyone around you had high hopes for you. Your parents wanted you to make them proud, your teachers wanted you to give your hundred percent always. Your friends admired you, they dreamed of being you. You were the golden child. Loved by everyone so, when you developed your quirk no one was shocked to learn that it was one of the strongest quirks out there.

Your parent’s dreams for you soared even higher and soon everyone was complimenting you and deeming how amazing you’d do as a Pro-Hero and you listened to them. You trained your entire childhood in hopes of becoming the No. 1 Hero, even got into a known Hero school, and graduated on top of your class. You thought you were invincible until you started your career as a Pro. 

It was hard. It was so much harder than you had expected. Apparently, your will to save citizens wasn’t enough to make you a legitimate Hero to the eyes of the public. Even if you worked your ass off it wasn’t enough. Weaker and useless Heroes whose only specialty was steering drama with others would sweep in at the last minute and take your victory as theirs’. 

You wanted to speak up about this but your agent had said you’d go nowhere; those Heroes had been in the business longer. No one would have taken your side, you were just a rookie. If you wanted to be admired, you had to also use cheap tricks and form connections with names. 

At first, you refused. It went against your moral code but soon after you started receiving angry phone calls from your peers; them explaining how embarrassing it was that no one even knew who you were, your mind quickly changed. Next thing, you are just like the others using cheap tricks working on your public image rather than actual Hero work. You thought finally it’d work and it did! After a few months, you were under the Top 30 Heroes list. The “hard” work had paid off now, it was only way upwards to the No.1 but you found yourself not rising the ladder. You were stuck in the Top 30. Nothing upwards but other Heroes were beating your position, it was all falling over again. You needed to do something to save yourself.

That’s when you heard about him. A man who granted people power, the King of the Underground. He acted like the Devil himself. Granting your desire for a price. People talked about him in hushed whispers, they acted if he did not exist but he did. He was very much there. His men had been terrorizing the country for so long; his men were hardest to fight. 

You thought about it. You could reach him and ask him for power, after all, you could do anything to be the No. 1 Hero. You couldn’t afford to disappoint the people who had supported you, your entire lives even deep down you knew the only reason everyone- anyone talked to you was for their own selfish reasons but that was okay. They were the only people you had.

So you rolled the dice and made up your mind to meet the Mad King. Shigaraki Tomura.

The hallway was run down and dimly lit; you watched your step as you moved forward not wanting to step over a dead rat or lizard. You were told that you’d see Shigaraki if you walked through it. Your heart beats faster with each step you take; the hallway is awfully quiet excluding the sounds of rats chattering away in the distance. 

Meeting him was not easy, getting this far had been hell. You had to make many calls and sit through many sleepless nights just to confirm the rumor all while making it look like you weren’t investigating Shigaraki Tomura behind their backs. You had gone through a great deal of trouble to make sure your identity was kept hidden from the Government. 

As you took the last turn you were met with a shut door. You latched on the handle, twisting it and pushing the door open. It was a meeting room. A long table stood in the room chairs all empty beside the very center. 

A man sat there, his legs propped up on the table resting over papers and pens dressed in an expensive suit, his long white hair scanned his face. A severed hand rested on his face red, angry eyes gleaming from the gaps of the fingers. Upon seeing to enter the room he crossed his hands over his chest, muscles bulging- almost ripping the sleeves open. He looks at you finally acknowledging your presence; glaring from behind the hand his gaze sends a shiver down your spine. You stand completely captivated and amazed yet scared under the presence of Shigaraki Tomura. 

You stand there frozen unable to move. You never thought you’d ever meet the most wanted man in japan like this: dressed in nothing but a t- shirt and jeans, unarmed and vulnerable 

 His harsh voice cuts through the air as he glares at you. 

“Well?” he asks and you walk inside the room. You stand there awkwardly, wondering whether you should take a seat or not, “Am I supposed to sit down too? Might as well ask if I can kiss your feet?” He snarls, the sarcastic comment leaving his tongue without any hesitance. 

He’s quite mean.

You mumble a quiet apology as you sit yourself a few chairs away from him- you’d like to keep your distance from this dangerous man, biting your lip you think of how you should start the conversation but Shigaraki is impatient. He groans in amusement and slams his feet on the table, flying the papers 

“What. The. Fuck. Do. You. Want. Why. Are. You. Here.”  His tone was harsh, filled with irritation. “I am here for the quirk.” Shigaraki’s brow twitches, he stares at you with confusion basking in his eyes. 

“Quirk?” he pauses tilting his head up facing the ceiling, his hand goes to scratch at his neck; breaking the skin. While he thinks to himself about what you could possibly mean, your mind starts thinking about in all the ways this scenario could work out. Maybe he’d give you the quirk and let you like you were promised, only come back when he needed your assistance in some task. To be honest, you weren’t quite ready to face that day yet. Second, he could kill you right here, right now for just thinking about something so obnoxious. And that’s about it. Those were the only two scenarios you could think of. You also thought of catching him off guard and bringing him back to the Hero Commission but you also knew he was way stronger than you. You silently prayed that you’d get out of this alive and well. 

For a second, you thought Shigaraki had fallen asleep. He was too quiet and the hand on his face did not help in distinguishing whether he was sleeping or not. 

“Shigaraki,” you called and he turns his face back to you, “You’re that fucking Hero.” he spits with disgust. “You want a fucking quirk right? I was told I’ve got an appointment with some scum Hero who wants to get stronger.” You did not pay attention to his belittling. You had gone through much worse hate and had survived. 

“Yes, now, would you please tell me how I can get one.” you added the ‘please’ mockingly, it seemed to affect the villain.

“I don’t help pigs like you.” 

You almost rolled your eyes, there was more convincing to do and you did not want to talk- hell- breathe the same air as this man but you couldn’t return home alone. You had to endure it. You took a deep breath and calmed yourself down, getting ready for a long night. 

“I couldn’t care less what you think about me. I was promised a deal and I expect you to keep your end of the bargain up.” you sighed, “Just for walking through that door and sitting here I had to pay a lot out of my pocket. I’m not leaving until you give it to me.” Your voice was sturdy and rigid. Exerting confidence, for a moment you felt strong. Talking back to a wanted villain like him gave you a false sense power. He sat silently, lost in thought again. 

“You’re gonna be here a while? That’s bothersome. But….you do know that I can just kill you and leave? Make it easier for both of us.” he finished. Anger surged through your veins as you decided against choking him to death. “Shigaraki. Please.” you begged, Godamnit. As much as you wanted to rival his hate towards you, you were smart and knew that you couldn’t afford to make any rash decision now because a single touch from him could mean game over for you. “You’re begging now?” He scoffed, “Okay, tell me why you want it so bad.” You bite your lip deciding whether you should go along with his idle chit-chat. 

“Listen. I really need it. I’m stuck in a useless rank and the walls keep closing in. I don’t disappoint the people around me. It’s really important to me. I don’t expect you to understand but- shit if you want me to beg I will. For that power, I’d do anything.” 

An eerie silence filled the room, Shigaraki remained quiet. He thought about what he could want from you. There was nothing, you were useless to him- a waste of time really. He should just decay you and leave. That would be the right thing to do but then again, the way you looked at him with desperation in your eyes stirred something in him. Maybe it was the unconscious acceptance you held knowing that he is in charge. The power imbalance was starting to get him going. He could imagine you wrapping your pretty, plump lips around his fat cock while he used your throat as he pleased. He was a little tired after all. Maybe he’d even give you a weak quirk and let you off to do your worthless heroics. 

“So you’d really do anything?” He was intrigued. You didn’t want to say yes because you knew he’d make you do something horrible, something you could never really recover from. You could see it in his eyes but in the end, you knew. 

“Yes. Anything,”

He quickly lifted the severed hand from his face and placed it gently on the table, you genuinely wanted to cry. His lips curled at the corner, his lips split into a menacing smile. It was evil, it was dangerous yet it was the calm before the storm. The crazed smile only made you aware about how much you were going to regret this decision. It made you sick.

“Sexual favors. If you want this power, make me cum.”

Your eyes widen in shock, your mouth agape as you process his words. What? 

“You can’t be serious.” your voice was low, your heartbeat quickened and you felt your hands grow cold. Anger and confusion masked your consciousness. 

“I’m waiting.” he sang, his shrill voice sending shivers down your spine. He was joking, right? No way was he was actually expecting you to do it. Right?  He did not say another word instead pulled his feet off the table and slammed them to the floor. He spread his legs and patted his right thigh, looking directly at you with a smile, 

“you’re joking.” you commented. Shigaraki stopped smiling, his head lowered, bangs falling over his eyes; you could not see the face he was making. He clicked his tongue and the ‘tch’ sound resonating in the room, “You think I’m joking?” he asked, his voice now filled with annoyance. You did not answer; you did not what to say. You were beginning to think he was not messing with you, and that he actually wanted you to perform that horrendous act. 

His head turned back to you, his eyes spiraled into angry slits, vermilion orbs gleaming under the well-lit room displaying grim intentions. You knew he was serious. 

You took a deep breath, you knew the price of your dreams was high; the sacrifices you had to make: colossal. But right now, you were given a chance to obtain power- grow stronger to get a step closer to your goal but at what cost? If you, right now, gave yourself up to this notorious villain, what would you lose? Dignity? Pride? You had lost all of that the second you had entered the room. 

Nothing was left to lose. From all the horrendous things he coils have asked you to do, you should be glad all he wanted was some pussy.

You swallowed nervously as you got up from the chair moving towards him in brief, calculated steps. You stood in front of him, his knee at level with your crotch; he looks up at you and smirks. His knee jerks forward, pushing through your thighs and grinding up against your clothed cunt. You gasp in surprise, almost walking away from him. Your fists clench by your side and try to surpass any sounds from passing; the movement of your panties rubbing on your clit sends jolts of pleasure throughout your body. You bite your lower lip, glaring down at him as he continues to aggressively grind his knee on your cunt, your mouth falling agape as the sensations get too overwhelming and your climax starts building. A whine falls from your lips when it stops. Shigaraki abruptly withdraws his knee from your thighs, a wet spot forming on the expensive fabric of his pants. He looks at you and smirks, 

“Hero Slut.” he comments, making your blood boil, you try to retort but his fingers inch towards your hips, fingers pulling at the waistband of your jeans. 

“Take it off.” you hesitate for a moment, “take it off or I’ll dust It.” he threatens, you did not want to walk out the room half naked. You quickly tugged your jeans down, it pooled around your ankles. Shigaraki’s eyes never left your lower body, his eyes stayed glued to your pussy, almost drooling at the sight black and white striped panties. Feeling embarrassed under his predatory gaze, you push your hands forward, covering yourself making Shigaraki frown. He pushes your hands away and replaces them with his own. His fingers rub at your clit through your panties making you writhe in pleasure, you feel yourself get wet, a dark spot starting to form on your panties. Shigaraki glides his finger till your hole and drives them to your hips pulling at the waistband of the fabric and letting it hit your skin with a snap, you gasp. “You like that?” he asks, smirking and repeating the action, “Take this off too.” he finishes. 

He leans back in his seat spreading his legs while he watches you strip out of your panties, his eyes a shade darker clouded with lust. 

“You look better now.” his voice is low and condescending as he pulls you down to straddle his lap. His hands carefully moving up and down your torso, under your shirt, fingers touching the underside of your bra. He guides one of his hands to your hip, and claps around it pressing hard enough for a flash of pain to spark along the bone as he keeps you firmly pinned on his thigh. Gripping one of your thighs firmly, he restrains you from pressing them together. He runs a palm along the inside of your thighs in fascination, you feel yourself get worked up embarrassingly fast, “Look at you,” he barks, a crazed smile blooming on his face. 

“You’re all neglected. How often do you loosen up, whore?” His slender fingers trail downwards to your cunt, he runs a slender finger painfully slowly over your folds, buries it inside your hole moving it around and curling the digit inside you before withdrawing. His eyes scan your face as his thumb strokes down on your clit. Your eyes shut close as you bit your lower lip- trying your best to surpass moans which might further entice him. Your body jerks up with need as you gasp out, your hands balling into fists, choked mewls flow from the back of your throat, “I’m gonna fuck you stupid.” he growls 

“N-no.” 

Shigaraki chooses to ignore you as his hand grips the back of your head, pulling you closer towards him before pushing his lips against yours’ while the other hand reaches behind you, wandering across your ass, grabbing a firm hold of the soft flesh. He pulls away from the kiss and both you regain your breath, taking in as much as you can. Shigaraki leans in, you think he’s going to kiss you but instead, his lips hover over your ear. You feel his warm breath tickling your ear as he whispers in a raspy, broken voice. 

“If you want this power so bad,—" your breath hitched as he pushes another finger in your small cunt, “—grind that worthless cunt on my thigh.” 

You look down at him with half-lidded eyes zooming on his cock straining through his pants. He catches you staring. His eyes light up with amusement, “You want that too, huh? You’re just a cock hungry whore after all. Its fine, you all are,” He pulls his fingers out of your dripping hole and presses them against your lips. 

“Open up,” he commands. You hesitate for a moment but eventually, you obey. You open your mouth, only slightly yet he aggressively shoves his middle and pointer finger into your mouth. “I don’t wanna feel any teeth.” you pucker your lips around his finger, sucking his digits into your mouth. Your tongue swirls around his fingers, tasting yourself around him. Shigaraki sighs, “Laughable isn’t it?” he begins, “Do your Hero friends know how much of a pathetic slut you are? I bet they’d love you see you like: half-naked, sitting on Japan’s most wanted criminals lap, begging to be fucked?” He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, a ‘pop’ sound reverberating in the room. He pats your thigh, “Come on. If you please me good enough I might even give you my dick.” 

The realization hits you. Shigaraki wasn’t doing this entirely for his pleasure. He just wants to humiliate you, see you cry, call you names- anything to make you leave this place broken. A fair price.

A smug smirk reaches his face yet again as he watches you shift around his lap, straddling his left thigh. You put your arms cautiously around his shoulders for support, grounding your sensitive bundle of nerves down against his thigh, exhaling as the muscle rubbed against your clit in the best possible way. A tight coil forms in your lower abdomen as you frantically grind down, pleasurable sensations fogging your mind. His hands are still on your hips as you roll your hips in brisk circles against his thigh as you chase your climax, your mouth falls open at the sharp pleasure shooting through your body as you grind down faster, your mind grows hazy. Thoughts jumbled- and non-existent, only focusing on the rocking of your hips back and forth against his thigh. He occasionally flexes the muscle to intensify the feeling of your approaching orgasm, you’ve barely even had any stimulation and you’re already so close. You tug on your lower lip between your teeth, eyes skewered shut as you feel your orgasm building up, seconds away from erupting, and washing over your entire body. “Is the whore close?” Shigaraki speaks, “Looks like you I didn���t even have to fuck you stupid. You’re humping my leg like a bitch in heat. You’re already stupid. This is the real you. You just pretend- act as a functional member of this rotten society but deep down, you’re just a slut begging for a big cock to stuff her holes. Am I right?”  

“Shigaraki Tomura. Fuck you.” you manage to call out in between your moans. 

A blush creeps onto his face and his cock strains in his pants, the print now louder, and his cock begging to be freed. One of his hands leaves your hips and starts palming his cock through the fabric, he lets out a breathy moan as he examines your face: twisted in pleasure yet the look of hate and disgust still linger. Your displease from this entire scenario riles him up, what a disgusting man he is. 

He shifts his gaze from your face to your tits bouncing along the rhythm every thrust ; his hands roam underneath your shirt stroking your soft stomach and move to grope your tits through your bra. He kneads your breast through your bra before capturing it with all five of his fingers and changing it into specks of dust. Your shirt receives the same treatment and you whine. You sit there naked, grinding on his thigh while he is still dressed, calm and collected save for the bright pink blush on his cheeks. Sweat drips down from your forehead and a pink hue rests on your cheek. You look like a mess. 

“You look pathetic right now, you know?” he speaks. You know, you can imagine and you hate it very much. 

A moan escapes his lips; breathing heavily into your ear- he leaves tainted comments. Groaning occasionally as his lips find its way to kiss and suck bruises at your neckline, sinking his teeth and biting down, nipping on your skin leaving marks on your smooth skin all the while his hands violate your breast, greedily groping and kneading the sensitive mounds, rolling your nipples between his fingers, and harshly tweaking and tugging at them- your eyes roll back into the back of your skull, relishing in the pain.

His cock was straining in his pants; you could feel it poking against your thigh. He moves a hand to hastily unbutton and unzip the confinements of his pants, his dick hard against the fabric of his boxers. A wet stop forming at the tip.

He doesn't hesitate to shove his hands into his boxers, groaning and bucking his hips into his hand as he pulls his cock out. His cock springs upwards. It stands tall and hard yearning with need. Pre-cum spills out his leaking tip, red and angry,demanding relief. You stare at it, marveling the size of his girthy cock. You can tell by looking- he’s too big. It was going to be a tight fit. 

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude to stare?” 

“It’s too big.” 

“So?” he asks, annoyance filling his voice as he feels himself get more riled up, “More prep-” you’re still grinding your pussy on his thigh, you try telling him how much you needed him to stretch you out before burying his ridiculously big cock in your tiny, pathetic, little cunt.  “Uh h pleaseee……....It will hurt otherwise.” His ears perk up at your shameless little confession. “It will hurt?” The obscene smile made its way back to his face and you regretted saying so. 

“It better hurt.” 

Shigaraki stands up to his full height, towering over you. You stumble and your hips hit the table behind you. You seriously looked like nothing compared to him. His shoulders broader and rigid, his arms buff and robust. Any hopes you even had in defeating him vanishes away into the air as he turns you around and bends you over the table. 

Papers scatter and fall to the ground, your breasts press against the cold wood and he captures both your hands holding them behind your back in one hand. His other smack your ass making you squirm, “Consider yourself lucky.” he groans, his cock lining up with your cunt, “I don’t fuck every common whore I see.”  His words sting and he pushes past your little hole, tearing it up, tears start to prick at the corner of your eyes. You sniff, “It hurts.” Shigaraki ignores you, lost in the way your small pussy gobbles up his fat cock inch by inch. “Shut up. It'll get better soon enough.” he speaks when he gets annoyed by your little grunts of discomfort. He doesn’t give you time to adjust as he bottoms out, stretching your pussy open. “There. It’s all in,” he spanks your ass making you wail out. 

The stretch burns but you soon feel yourself get wetter adjusting to his size. He starts thrusting his cock into you, using your pussy as his personal cocksleeve. He’s mean with it. He goes rough and fast, pushing his cock all the way till your hilt until his tip kisses your cervix. He laughs at how pathetically you whine, you plead for him to slow down but he doesn’t listen. He pulls you up to his chest by your hair, biting aggressively on your neck, whispering perverted remarks in your ear. He plays with you tits, rolling, pinching and tugging on your nipples. His hands are all over you, except where you need it the most- your clit. The hardened nub begs for attention, burning in need to be touched and played with yet he pays no mind to it choosing to watch you suffer in agony instead. 

“Pheweaze.” you beg, your tongue lolling out of your mouth. He catches the pink flesh between his fingers, petting it making it impossible for you to talk. “What’s that? What did you say? I couldn’t catch it.” He teases, pretending he doesn’t know what you need. He finally pulls his finger out of your mouth, still thrusting his cock into your cunt, “Pheleaseeee e touch my clliit. I need it.”  Finally, you manage to say a complete sentence. You embrace yourself in hopes of Shigaraki finally touching you but instead he chuckles, “Is that so? Is that what you need? I thought you wanted a quirk?” You cry out in frustration. Shigaraki laughs, his shrill laugh masking the lewd sounds of skin slapping against each other. He thinks for a while, looking at you de-flowered, broken to the point where you couldn’t even form sentences properly, he smirks to himself. He’s won.

His fingers snake down to your clit rubbing it avidly. You sigh as you finally feel proper stimulation. Soon enough your loud moans of pleasure fill the empty room and you feel yourself tighten around Shigaraki, “I feel that, your slutty little cunt is squeezing me. You are close, aren’t you?” 

Your moans quickly turn into pants as you let out a silent scream while you cream around Shgaraki’s cock, “You came, bitch?” he asks but you just whimper, your body still writhing with the intensity of the orgasm, “Ugh. Hero Slut.” His thrust gets sloppier, you can feel he’s close by the way his cock twitches inside of you. Next you know- you feel- is hot spurts of cum shooting inside of you, painting your insides white. 

You plop down on the table beneath you, your body exhausted. He pulls out of you and you quickly turn your head back to him, “The quirk..” you meekly ask. “Messy little slut,” he murmurs, ignoring you. “Makes me wanna mess you up even more.”

“Tomura Shigaraki. The quirk.” 

He hummed. “So you plan to go back and pretend you are something more than a worthless slut?-” 

“Tomura. The fucking Quirk.” you weren’t in the mood for any of his shit now, “Jeez fine. If you want the quirk so bad, here, have it. Clean it up well.” He’s motioning to his half-erect cock covered with his cum and your juices. “What the fuck.” You ask, getting up standing to your full height. Even though you were much shorter to him ( and very much naked ) you still wanted to show him that you could put up a fight. 

“I give the quirks. If you want it, you’ll need to ingest my DNA. And also, didn’t I say I’m gonna come on your pretty face?” Your eyes dart up to focus on Shigaraki's face – and shame washes over you as you witness his sinister look. He pushes you down on his knees and you come in level with his cock. 

 “Fuck you,” you stutter out, still trying to seem like you have any power, like you’re the one in charge.

He laughs, “Oh, I just did, sweetheart.”

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[binniesthighs]

hello stranger | reader x changbin |

a/n: this chapter is one that is very special to me and really echoes a lot of the same feelings that I’ve experienced through the years. writing this chapter felt really healing for me, as I hope maybe it can to you who might’ve felt the same. Because of this, please read the warnings below and read what you feel comfortable with! Remember that no matter who you are, or what you’ve gone through you absolutely deserve love!! 

Part 5 

Pairing: self insert, female reader x seo changbin, female reader x han jisung 

Genre: strangers to lovers, fluff, smut, angst 

Tags: (of this part) college au, rapper!changbin, rapper!jisung, establishedfwb!jisung, artist!reader, skz side characters, bestfriend!chan, bestfriend!felix, explicit language, HARD angst to FLUFFY fluff, mentions of alcohol, fingering (f receiving), squirting,  dry humping, nipple play, protected sex, fluffy sex, cockwarming

CWs: implications of jealousy and possession (past), non-con pressure, fist fighting, quite a bit of blood, bruises, and other wounds, mentions of a scar, mentions of past toxic relationship, mentions of nausea, mentions of low self worth and self deprecating habits 

Word count: 8.7k (grab a blanket, your plushie, some fuzzy socks...also I promise no other chapter will be this long LOL) 

Chapters 

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6

-Two years ago, and some change- 

Tonight was different. It could have been for a number of reasons. Maybe it was the way that he held onto your hand tighter than he usually did. You swayed your body next to his like you thought that you should have been doing. If you hadn’t you would have looked out of place. He hated when you looked out of place. The skimpy dress you had worn that night was just for him. You thought that he would like the way that the straps barely clung to your shoulders and the way that it was snug against your curves. 

He was watchful. Silent. You had known him to be a generally loud and gregarious person. He had many friends. Many of his friends you really did like; but, there were others that you had liked less...the friends with wandering and judging eyes. 

“Why her?” They would ask. 

“You could do better.” They would whisper in his ear when they thought that you couldn’t hear. 

“Isn’t she...boring?” 

“Not boring when I’ve got her alone.” 

The club was full of people; a suffocating amount. Bodies thrashed up against eachother in all their sweating heat. Shiny polyester and the tulle ruffles of shirts scratched against your skin in passing. Under the line of sight, no one could see where hands might reach or creep in the dark corners of that room. With the music blasting, no one could hearo f the sinful desires whispered from ear to ear. 

“Don’t you want to get outta here?” He had craned down to give you his message. 

“W-why don’t we just dance? I like this song.” 

“But we’ve been here for so long.” His hand gripped tight on your arm. “Really. Let’s get out of here.” 

“But--” 

“Let’s bounce. I don’t wanna be here any more. Let’s go have fun somewhere else.” 

Fear rose in your throat. His tone had changed to the one that you had been trying to keep at bay for weeks.

“Baby, I’m having fun!” You tugged back at your arm which he hadn’t released. Your brain worked quickly, and you did what you thought would’ve been distracting enough. You kissed him. 

Hard and fast you shoved your tongue down his throat in ways that you only would do when it had been the two of you alone. The music was loud. No one could hear the way he forced a moan into your mouth. Your hands wove deeply into his hair that was swathed in that cologne of his that was dizzying. It was saltwater and cinnamon. 

Your body pressed up flat against his chest and, as expected, he threw his arms back around you and kissed back with the same fervency that you tried to drench him in. 

Your words were breathless. “Can we...stay?” 

“Baby, how can you say that when you kissed me like that? God, if I could screw you right here and now...” 

His friends had been watching. Or pretending not to watch. It was no lie that their eyes had been peeping from the corners. 

“Let’s get some more drinks then? Hm? Maybe later we can head back to your--” 

“--NO! I want you now.” His words were violent, and his hands starved in his feverish way, yet still, he sucked his devilish smile into your neck. “Baby, please.” 

Just a few more drinks. That was all that it would take. Just a few more drinks and he would be a stumbling mess. He would forget his name and you and then he wouldn’t be able to take you anywhere. You loathed yourself for feeling that way, but it was the only solution you could think of. 

“Let’s go out back. No one walks down that alley, you know so.” 

A nervous laugh slipped off of your lips. “I-I know, but--it’s so cold outside, it’s snowing an-and it won’t be comfortable--” 

“--I don’t need comfortable, I just need you.” 

Lazily, his eyes met with one of his friendsand he flicked his finger to beckon him over. “You. Come with us. We’re gonna need someone to watch the door.” 

His friend scoffed and shoved his glass into the hands of a stranger. “Fine. What are you gonna pay me back with?” 

“I dunno, I’ll think of that later.” 

Your arm wiggled, a slight attempt to free yourself of his grasp. “Babe, babe, come on. I-it’s risky, an-and--” 

“--And what?!” 

“I-I don’t...I don’t...” 

“Babe I thought you liked it when we did risky stuff? Remember last week? The bathroom? You liked that didn’t you?” 

“That-that was different.” 

Above your heads the speakers boomed with a bass drop that you could feel vibrate in your chest. Strobe lights of dozens of different colors blinded your vision. Your head panged with a pain that must’ve been the alcohol, but with each passing second, you felt more and more lightheaded. Air just barely escaped from your lungs and your lungs felt like dead weight. 

His voice had been muffled. Your feet started taking steps that didn’t feel like they were their own. He used his body mass to part the sea of bodies, drawing you farther and farther away from it all. The two men chuckled as you neared the back of the building where the haze from the stage seemed to accumulate. 

“Stand right at this door and don’t let anyone get out from it. Don’t leave until we come back in.” 

His friend rolled his eyes, then took out his showy looking pen to take a long drag. He blew it into the other man’s face. “Have fun you two.” 

The cold winter air stung at your dry lungs. You realized then that you had forgotten your coat inside. Under your feet, flaky and white snow had mixed in potholes which had filled with iridescent oil. Together, the only thing that you could think of in that moment was how the two colors and mixed. In no way where they similar: one, black and slick, the other soft and pure. They made no sense. 

“Ohhhh...Baby.”

His breath was hot and it steamed in the air like some kind of deadly and wispy poison. His hands were big. Much bigger than yours, and they seemed to wrap you all up in them. They were magnets to your hips which fell into them with ease. He must’ve been cold too you figured: goosebumps formed on his arms where the falling snow fell on them. 

“You’re all mine. No one else’s. Don’t you ever forget that. Tell me. Who’s baby are you?” 

“Y-yours.” Your voice trembled. 

“That’s right.” 

His freezing hands swept up both sides of your face and you prayed that he couldn’t feel the tears stream from your eyes to his fingers. All at once, you felt nauseous, you felt sick, shame, rage, embarrassment and fear. With the adrenaline pumping in your ears, you did something even you didn’t expect. 

“S-stop.” 

His mouth continued lapping over yours, even your words which you repeated, 

“Stop!” 

“Baby, we’re just getting started!” Frigid fingers crept up your shirt to your bare skin. 

“I SAID STOP!” 

You had bitten his lip, and the metallic taste of his blood dripped onto your lip. 

“You bitch!” He stumbled, then wiped the blood to his finger. 

Hot tears fell freely, and your body shook: perhaps it was the cold, or your fright, but it shook every part of you. 

“What the fuck?!” He rose his hand in the air, “Who the fuck to you think--”

“--HEY!” 

A voice echoed down the alley and bounced off the brick walls. He was a black outline, but it was undoubtedly him who had shouted. He was still, but all at once he started running, sprinting towards you and you cowered to the snow. 

“Don’t you fucking--” 

The other man ran right up to the both of you. He was shorter, but crashed into the other taller man with a fist raised. He nearly had to jump a little, but he had knocked him square in the face with a horrible fleshy sounding thud. 

He finished his sentence, “-Don’t you fucking touch her!” 

The shorter man rubbed at his knuckles which had bloodied quickly. Your boyfriend had slipped on the ice a few steps back, falling to the ground clumsily and wetting it from the blood dripping from his mouth and nose. He laughed incredulously. 

“You pack quite a punch for a little guy don’t you? Well, you picked the wrong fight--” 

He rose to his feet with fists raised, then took a swing at the other man. He was agile, and ducked with ease, then twisted around the taller’s body to punch into his ribs. Still he didn’t miss each punch, and your boyfriend landed hits to his face as well. The stranger fell to the ground this time, groaning out and splashing into the cotton snow. While he was down, the taller man kicked into his sides. 

“How do you like that? Huh??? You have no FUCKING RIGHT. This is between me and my girlfriend, so, fuck. off.” 

The stranger spat blood to the white snow. “A-actually, I did have a right.” 

“What was that??” He kicked harder. 

“You-you were going to hit her? Weren’t you? Who the hell hits their girlfriend?” 

In one motion, the shorter man was back up on his feet, stumbling, but still swinging. He was weaker, but still punched into the taller man’s sides relentlessly. The two men sparred, and you felt frozen. It was as if you weren’t even breathing. 

Stop. Stop. Stop. Your thoughts rang, but your voice couldn’t muster it. 

“You’re the fucking--” Punch. “--Scum--” Punch. “--Of the--” Punch. “--Earth.” 

Your boyfriend’s eyes had become bloodshot red. In a mix of furious arms, he had scraped his wristwatch against the other man who cried out with a horrible sounding whimper, and then a flash of red started to flow down his arm. 

Your dress had soaked through with the freezing cold water and you had nearly buried your eyes into your arms. Never had you felt so small, so helpless. 

“HEY! What’s going on down here?” 

A flash of blue and red lights lit up the pitch black alley. 

“What’s going on??” 

The policeman’s voice buzzed over the loudspeaker on his car. 

The shorter man was a crumple on the ground and he hissed out with pain from his teeth. His arm quivered with pain from the gash that had been pressed into it. By contrast, the peaceful snow fell lightly onto his body and got tangled into his curled, dark hair. Your boyfriend; you hadn’t even seen him turn to sprint down the opposite side of the alley. 

Regardless, the stranger still managed, “Ar-are you okay? Did he hurt you?” 

Your dry and tear-stained cheeks crinkled. “N-no. He didn’t.” 

“T-that’s good. Listen, I-I need to go. I can’t afford for them to take me. Ask them to help you and take you home. 

The clink of the policeman’s keys on his hip jingled as he neared. 

“I’m sorry I have to run.” He stumbled to his feet. For a few seconds, you could see his eyes under the flickering yellow streetlight. They weren’t brown or black, but some kind of dark stormy grey. 

He went running down the alley, as fast as he could manage with a limp to his leg and his dripping arm creating a trail behind him. 

As he ran, he left behind him a scent, foreign in the winter air. You couldn’t name it exactly, but you had guessed at least for then, it might’ve been something like rosemary and cedarwood. 

╚ ——————————————— ╝

2am, and you felt euphoric. Like a fucking cloud. Even though it was typical, there really were no other words that could describe it. 

Felix and Chan bumped their hips against yours while they danced in the rhythm of the song that the DJ had played. Both of their bright smiles were utterly adorable, and the three of you doubled over in your laughter at each other’s terribly awkward dance moves. Chan made his best attempt at the robot, and Felix busted out some of his favorite internet dances. You rose your hand to the side of your face as if to say I don’t know them. Felix’s tiny hands interlaced into yours and you danced with him too while Chan mimed throwing dollar bills into the air. 

“How much longer?” You yelled over the music until it scratched your throat. 

“I don’t know! I didn’t get a chance to look at the line up!” Chan’s body bumped up against others in the crowd while he tried to check is phone. “It’s fine! I’m sure he should be coming on soon!” 

You couldn’t remember the last time  that you had been to a show that wasn’t to see Jisung. It was strange thinking about all of the things you used to worry about when you had gone to see him in the past: was your outfit sexy enough, had you remembered to put on your lip gloss...you’d even worry over stupid shit like if you had missed any spot on your legs while shaving. 

None of those worries filled you now. The clothes that you had put on in your haste made little sense, and were a bit warm in the room where sweat practically dripped from the walls. You had even left your apartment in such a hurry--you had been working on a new piece from a spark of inspiration during midday.

“He said that he was going near the end I think!!” You informed your friends. 

Chan did a little excited dance. You didn’t know if he was more thrilled over the fact that he was there or how you had promised to introduce him to Changbin after the show. 

The lights shifted, turning from pink to blue, and the music faded too. Your beating heart slowed as the atmosphere changed and Felix clawed back onto your arm. 

“Oh my God!!! I think that it’s gonna be him!!!” Chan nearly leapt into the air. 

It was frightening how familiar it all felt; you felt as if you had been transported right to that first night, the night that you had met him and the night that he had entranced you up on that stage. Everything in the room darkened, and the smoke slithered onto the stage. Everyone had quieted with their focus narrowing on the empty expanse that had been set up all for him. 

To the side of the stage, the announcer chuckled into the mic, “Ladies and Gents, as you know him...SPEAR B!” 

Music erupted like a crack of lighting over the speakers and was so sudden that nearly everyone in the crowd jumped out of their skin. The spotlights flooded the stage in a blinding white light, and before your eyes could process it, he had thrown himself to centerstage with some kind of magic or trick of the eye. It was so confusing, all you could do was stand in shock. 

Rapid fire lyrics flew off his tongue with lightspeed, and he carried himself around the stage with as much regality as a king. His hooded eyes held nothing but concentration at each of his words, and he threw his arms around with emphasis so you could hang onto every single syllable. He shone under the lights where he had adorned himself in his favorite array of silver and crystal jewelry: his trademark chain around his neck blinked like diamonds. Every curve of the muscles on his thick arms and thighs tensed and the vein on the side of his neck flared as he spoke. With a bite to his lip and an indulgent smile, he owned very single part of his own world. 

He was fucking mesmerizing. 

Felix and Chan were wildly flapping their bodies around and thrashing their heads along with every other body in the crowd, but you had stood still. It was unbelievable that you had been close to him. All your memories of him holding you softly in his arms, planting kisses into every tender inch of your skin seemed so far away, but so close. He couldn’t have been the same person. 

Your heart swelled with a pain. It might’ve been warning, precautionary, or fearful. Or, it might’ve been warm, intoxicated, infatuated. Your own mind couldn’t comprehend it. 

Over the hundreds of eyes in the crowd, somehow, he had found yours, and it was just as that first night had been. He was so massive, so crushing. His confidence was something so addictive and his gaze so thick that you felt as if it  was crushing. Still, there was one thing that was different about it now. 

He knew you. He wasn’t just some stranger. 

He knew your ins and outs, he knew your fears, the way that you would shy away from him or how you would lean into him closer. After that one meeting, you had encompassed everything that he could imagine, as he did for you. 

You had started as strangers, but now you couldn’t even imagine a time when you weren’t. 

He had broken his composure for mere seconds to smile at you. It was a simple: I see you. And you see me. 

It was cliché. Fucking cheesy as hell. God, it was sugary sweet and rotten; a phrase you hadn’t said in a year or more. But, with the dozens of other girls screaming it in that room, bumping with bodies and bass ringing, condensation on the walls and music louder than your own voice, you joined the cacophony.  Even if he couldn’t hear you screamed the words with your whole chest:

“I FUCKING LOVE YOU SEO CHANGBIN!” 

╚ ——————————————— ╝

The music had subsided, and the stage lit to normal as the stagehands switched around the arrangement for the next act. You and your two friends were out of breath and exhausted. Sweat beaded on all of your brows and you felt it dripping down your back as well. The three of you stood laughing out in your euphoria: it as a high like none other. 

“Damn. Why do I really want ice cream right now?” Felix huffed out his laugher and slung Chan under his arm. “Doesn’t that sound like a really good idea?” 

Chan whipped the damp strands of hair from his eyes. “That does sound like a really good idea. But...you think any places will be open?” 

With surprised glances, the three of you burst out hysterically. 

You wiped an exhilarated tear from your eye, “We’d have to go to the store.” 

Somehow, it was the funniest thing that you could have said and Felix and Chan held their sides in their laughter. 

“Do-do you think that Changbin would want to come with us?” Felix helped fix your sweater which had become a bit ajar on your frame. 

“I don’t see why not.” 

Chan did another adorable little dance. “Holy hell. I can ask him about his process!!!.” He scooped you up into a tight hug. “This is so exciting!!!!!” 

“Just don’t...scare him away.” You patted into Chan’s hair with adoration. 

“He should be back out any minute right? He said he would come looking for you?” 

You nodded, feeling your heart start to race at the prospect. You hadn’t felt this giddy about the attention in a while--not at least, attention that had been given to you without a condition. 

Behind your little group, you felt a tug on your wrist, then your cheeks swelled with warmth. 

“Chang--” 

“--Holy fuck! You actually came!!” 

Jisung’s eyes lit up and an inhumanely wide smile spread across his face. 

“...Jisung--” 

“Oh my god, I can’t believe it, you actually came! Shit, I really thought that after we talked the other day that--” 

Chan ripped Jisung’s grip from your wrist. “You better cut that out.” Once as giddy as he was before, his expression had turned deadly serious. 

“What are you doing here?” Felix pushed you slightly behind him. 

“Performing? This is my show too. I’m on in thirty. You’re here to see me too?” 

“Like hell we are.” Chan rolled his eyes. 

Jisung chose to ignore him, bringing his attention back to you. 

“B-baby, thank you so much for coming, and for giving me another chance--” 

“--Another chance? Y/n, what is he talking about?” Felix asked, then both of your friends eyes were on yours. 

A knot formed back up in your throat with your decisions that you had let hang since you had las spoken to Jisung. You thought you had been clear enough to him, and you had told your friends you had thought that you had ended it. 

Chan huffed out an authoritative sigh, “We’re leaving. Come on,” he wrapped an arm around both you and Felix. “Let’s just get out of here.” 

“No! Wait! Y/n don’t leave! Let-let’s talk about this, y-you never let me see you any more, I’ve been missing you...missing you like crazy,” His grip reached out to you once more, pulling your whole arm closer to him with a pain that panged in your shoulder. “--since you’re here...let’s just talk this out okay?” 

The music in the room grew louder once more, and the next act entered the stage with the announcer’s enthusiastic voice. The lights flashed out, and suddenly all of your bodies were bathed in red, pink, and blue light. 

Another memory, from another night, flashed before your eyes. He held onto your arm tighter than he usually did. His incessant eyes pleaded over to yours like he had countless times before. 

“Jisung, stop.” 

“I-I just don’t understand! Let’s not do this here! Can’t we go somewhere private where the two of us can talk? Baby--” 

Another hand grasped at your opposite arm, then it snuck around your waist. 

“--What the hell do you think you’re doing to her?”  

Changbin pulled you into his chest with a force that knocked the wind out of your lungs, then he immediately inspected the arm where the other had grabbed you so tightly. 

“Did he hurt you? Let me see.” 

Chan and Felix’s eyes widened in their shock. 

Jisung pushed himself closer. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing Changbin? Don’t get involved in this, it doesn’t concern you.” 

“Actually, yes, it does.” 

Everything was unfolding before your eyes, and you felt faint. All the secrets, lies, the way that you had entangled yourself in it all, was crushing you like vines with thorns. Your fear bit bile in your throat, and you couldn’t decide if you felt strong enough to run. 

Before you could say anything about it, Changbin pulled you out from the crowd, faster than your wobbling legs could handle. He was furious, you could tell, but he tried his best not to let it seep over to you. Changbin muttered curses under his breath, but pushed forward, past the dancing bodies, past the stage, past the maze of speakers and other sound equipment in the back. 

“Let’s just get out of here okay?” His fingers dug into your waist. 

Behind you, Felix and Chan shoved their way a few paces behind, ultimately getting caught in the web of people moving this way and that. Not far behind them, was Jisung thrashing with all his might to catch up. 

With your heartbeat in your ears, words started spilling out from your mouth: 

“Changbin, I didn’t tell you--I-I still haven’t told you, but you need to know before--” 

Changbin swung the back door to the venue and it slammed behind you with a metallic clang. It was nearly blizzarding outside, but he didn’t seem to care at all. Rather, he pulled you back into his chest to hug you tightly. He was desperate in the way that he hung onto your body; like he was trying to suck the very life from you. 

“Are you okay? He didn’t hurt you? I’m so sorry I couldn’t get there sooner. He’s a fucking dick, I won’t let him touch you again, I promise.” 

Your nose clogged immediately, and your sobs came out choked and full of utter fear. 

I’m going to loose him. I’ll lose him. He’ll hate me. He’ll let go, and never come back. 

“Chang-Changbin...Jisung, he was--” 

“Beautiful, why are you crying? Stop, stop, it’s okay.” He soothed you, wiping the tears from your cheeks that got muddled with snow. He too had snow clinging to his eyelashes and his hair that was also strung with sweat. 

The back door swung open with another startling clank, and Jisung threw himself out of it with Felix and Chan holding him back by the arms. 

“HE DOESN’T EVEN FUCKING KNOW HER!” Jisung screeched, then tore free of both of your friends. 

He lunged himself at Changbin who had seconds to respond. He turned his back to shield you with his body, and Jisung clawed with an animalistic energy. 

“HE DOESN’T FUCKING KNOW HER!” Jisung had been sobbing too, then swung a haphazard fist to Changbin’s back. 

Felix and Chan came rushing to catch you as you fell into their arms, then Changbin swiftly turned to return the hit. 

“Me?? You’re fucking crazy!!” He dodged another hit. “What the hell do you know about her?? Huh? YOU don’t know a thing about her!!” 

Jisung wiped his eyes then threw another lazy punch. “What are you talking about???” 

The two men stood still, both of them turning to turning to look at you with heaving chests. In your friends arms you trembled, and your worst nightmares unfolded right in front of your face. Your body fell to the ground, and the snow seeped into your clothes, just as it did on that night so long ago. 

“Holy shit.” Jisung grabbed both sides of his head in his realization. “She fucking played us. SHE FUCKING PLAYED ME.” 

Changbin cast his eyes away from you, just as he had when he had barely known a thing about you. He wouldn’t give you the pleasure. 

“You were fucking her too, weren’t you?” Jisung laughed out like a madman. “So that’s what she’s been doing this whole time I haven’t seen her. She’s been fucking you and--” 

Changbin’s fist rose, and it came crashing into the side of Jisung’s face so suddenly that you and your friends jumped from how fast he had done it. 

He said nothing, but proceeded to raise his fist again, then sent it right back into the soft of Jisung’s cheek before he had a minute to respond to the first. Jisung whimpered, then spat blood out of his mouth. His tears had returned, but this time, they were infused in his own anger. The two boys steadied their stance, looking into each other’s eyes with lethal rage. Jisung attacked back with a yell that echoed through the alley, and he too landed punches to Changbin’s sides in sharp hooks. Changbin then grabbed the other man’s shirt collar, pulling him close, then knocking him back with red and bloody fists. 

The two boys scuffled and slipped in the snow which had slicked on the ground to make each of their steps clumsy. Jisung sobbed through each of his punches, whereas Changbin held his teeth shut with a grit, merely grunting as he swung more and more. Your own tears blurred your vision, and your chest felt tight; nearly like it was about to burst. Your friends clung to your body just as tight, hushing to you and yelling at the boys to stop, but their voices sounded distant and faint. 

Jisung landed punch to Changbin’s eye which split the skin there on his eyebrow. Changbin returned the favor in the same spot, creating the same effect. With crackled lips they swore at eachother, and you could only make out one phrase from Changbin’s mouth: 

“Don’t you. Fucking. Touch her.” 

The door swung, “Changbin?” 

Minho hugged his coat around himself, only to jump out of his skin at the scene in front of him. He dodged two of Jisung’s swings as he clambered over to his roommate to hold him back. He was nearly two seconds late: with a roar, the two boys landed terrible blows at eachother, knocking them both to the ground. 

“‘Bin--stop, STOP!” Minho wrapped his arms around his friend. 

Just as he did, two other boys exited from the venue: one of them tall with long black hair and the other with hair as white as the snow. 

“Fuck you.” Jisung growled dizzily, and his two friends swooped in to help him back to his feet. They too looked furious, but Jisung waved them off groggily. “Don’t w-waste your fucking time. Y-you--” He pointed directly at Changbin. “D-don’t waste your time...on her. I-I’m such a fucking fool.” 

“Sung, let’s get out of here.” Jisung’s tall friend urged him. “Anyone on that street could’ve called the cops.” 

Minho held Changbin up then looked to you and your startled friends eyes seriously. “We need to leave too.” 

“We need to get him to a hospital.” Felix’s voice cracked. 

“You think that he can afford a bill? N-no. We can’t do that. I’ll explain later...he’ll be fine. He’s done this to himself before. Idiot.” Minho slugged his roommates arm over his shoulder and Chan rushed to grab the other. 

Your legs shook when Felix helped you to your feet. Any second, you thought they would give out. Thick strands of blood and saliva caught on Changbin’s lip. Seeing him like that made you feel even sicker. It was all your fault. 

“M-My place is close-by. We can go there.” You locked eyes with Minho. 

“Okay. We’ll go there.” 

╚ ——————————————— ╝

Your hands trembled violently once you brought your key to your lock. They burned with the cold, and were wet from how you had clawed at the snow. 

“Here, let me.” Felix gently offered. 

Your apartment was an absolute wreck. Tiny as it was, you had managed to make a mess of it all with art supplies, dirty dishes, hundreds of sticky notes with reminders and textbooks. As you entered, you swept everything to the side with your feet. 

“W-what do we do?” Chan’s own fingers had turned pink from the cold where he held Changbin: head slumped and blinking hazily, then shivering furiously--the action thus making him groan out in pain. 

“He-he’s freezing. There’s blood...” You fell from Felix’s arms. “I-I have to help him.” Once more, tears welled in your eyes. “We need to get him warm. Get him in the shower and clean him off.” 

“Okay. Where’s the bathroom?” 

You guided the group of boys down your hall where it became a group effort to remove him of his soaked clothes. Your pants had also been soaked through, but that didn’t even phase you; not when blood stained his mouth. He slumped his body over into four pairs of arms. 

“I can take it from here.” You closed the door behind yourself. 

Just as you did, you caught Chan’s surprised and widened eyes after Minho had leaned back from his ear. “He’s the son of WHO?” 

You shimmied your own clothes off, ignoring your own shivering as you held him up. The act itself was difficult, and you had given up when it came to your undergarments. It didn’t matter much, so you left them on, along with his. All you wanted was to get the blood off of him--you couldn’t bear to see it. 

The warm water on your skin felt unreal: a blanket of warmth to dissolve away the chill that clung to your body. It was as if you were defrosting: melting away the illness, the poison, the doubt and the fear. For a moment, you let yourself think that it was that simple. 

“Y/n” 

At your feet, the water turned from clear to pink. 

“What is it?” You hushed above the sound of the shower, and Changbin rested his forehead on your shoulder. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Why? You shouldn’t be sorry...I’m the one that should be.” 

“N-no.” He coughed, “I feel so sorry.” 

“Changbin--” 

“--Why him? Why him when he would treat y-you like shit? I-I know how he is.” 

“I-I don’t know...” 

It was a funny thing crying in the shower. It was somewhat like you weren’t crying at all with how your tears mixed with the stream. 

He sniffled, “I-I’m not mad at you. I mean...I was, but...I just don’t understand.” 

“Please, be mad at me. Be fucking furious. T-this is all my fault. I shouldn’t have lied. I shouldn’t have kept it a secret--” 

Changbin chuckled, then rose his head, lips bloodied, one eye squinted, with a smile on his face. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” 

“You’re holding me back. I didn’t have to do it this time.” 

At first, you didn’t know what it meant. But then, you realized. You had been clinging on to him for dear life: your arms completely wrapped around him, even now when he was standing on his own. 

“I thought that I gave a damn since it was him--it made me so fucking mad that it was him but...” 

“...What?” 

“Fuck me, but...I love you.” 

 You shook your head vehemently, tears crossing with the warm trickle of water.  “N-no, you don’t.”

He chuckled once more, “I think I’d know if I did or didn’t.” 

“Don’t say that.” Your chest shook. 

“Why?” 

“B-because you don’t mean it. You can’t love me.” 

“Why not?” 

His hands, bruised and pink cupped both sides of your face. 

“Someone like me...You can’t fucking love me.” 

“What? You’re not making any sense. Y/n, I think I’ve fucking loved you since the first night that I met you, and you can’t stop me from loving you. Listen, you don’t even have to love me back for now, but can you at least accept how I feel for you?” 

How was it you had been able to scream it before, but couldn’t find the words now? 

Heated steam filled up your shower, and dripped from the walls. His skin too dipped with drops of that water. You thought to yourself how the blood and the water mixed, the two colors didn’t work together at all. Why was all you could think of colors? 

“Okay?” He asked. 

Your own hands took to his soft cheeks, where you brushed away any streaks of red you could see there. 

You closed your yes after, succumbing to the feeling that the water brought you: melting, fading, dissolving, just like the way that watercolors blended from one to the other on a page. You felt Changbin press his forehead into yours. 

“I-I think that I love you too--but--I’m so scared. So fucking scared.” 

He let out a relieved “oh” then pressed his lips gently into yours. Each kiss after the other was more and more careful. He poured his whole being into your quivering lips. 

“Please don’t be scared. Don’t be scared of me. I swear that I won’t hurt you, I never want to. I mean it. Please don’t run from me.” 

Here you were, worrying that he was the one to run from you. You felt pathetic thinking how patient he had been with you, how much he had put up with, and what he had just done, all for you. 

He kissed more “pleases” into your mouth, then drew you flush against his chest. 

You held onto him tighter. “Do you mean it?” 

He nodded, then craned his neck to fill your mouth with more of his answers, and it did feel like the way that watercolors faded into one another. 

╚ ——————————————— ╝

“Will he be okay?” 

Felix, Chan, you, and Minho sat on your couch with mugs warming your hands. In the past half hour or so, none of you had said much. 

Minho sighed. “He will be. He just needs to rest now. I’ll take him to the clinic tomorrow, see if anything is wrong. Knowing him...thick skulled asshole...” He scoffed with a smirk, “--He’s fine.” 

“T-that’s good.” Chan took a sip. “He fell asleep?” 

“Right after we got out of the shower. Lucky I stole some of Chan’s joggers back then. I put him in my bed and he was out like a light. Didn’t say that anything else hurt.” 

In unison, the four of you took another anxious sip. 

“He can stay here tonight? If that’s okay with you?” Minho asked. 

“Yeah. That’s fine. I don’t think he wants to move wither.” 

Felix looked about himself awkwardly. “Wellll I think that we should get going then. Y/n, call us if you need anything?” 

“Mmhm.” 

A silence filled the air. 

“Y/n, did you know?” Chan blurted out. 

“Me? Know what?” 

Minho shot the other man a deadly glare, then cleared his throat. “Bin’s dad is some high ranking politian. Someone so high that we’d know his name: that’s how he explained it to me. He left his whole life with them to rap. If he had gotten caught tonight, in the alley or some hospital with his real name, it would’ve been all over the news. He’s been trying his best to be invisible since high school...doesn’t want to tarnish the family reputation or something, even though they practically hate him....I don’t get it. They basically disowned him after he said he wanted to do rapping, not like he minded though. His surname isn’t even Seo.” 

“Do you know what it is? His surname?” 

“He’s never told me and I never asked.” 

Another silence fell over your group. 

“...He never told me.” You watched the steam of your tea. 

“And I didn’t tell you either, alright? This stays between us.” 

Felix mocked a zip over his lips. 

“Guess I’ll have to ask him about him about his artistic process another time then, hm?” Chan cracked his sarcasm with an airy laugh. 

“Guess so.” You tried your best to laugh back. “Thank you for tonight. All of you.” You met each boys eyes and each of them nodded in understanding. 

Felix clapped his friend’s back. “Let’s head out.” 

╚ ——————————————— ╝

One light was left on in your room: the strand of pink string lights that you hung over the wall your bed was against. The rest of your room was cluttered as well with clothes strewn about and your backpack contents scattered all across the floor. From your tiny and aged window, snow had accumulated in the corners, and further, the yellow and red lights of the city sparkled. Just as you were about to pull the plug for the lights, Changbin groaned out groggily. 

“Wait...what are you doing?” 

“Turning off the lights. I’m going to go to sleep too now. I wanna give you some space. I’ll go over on the couch.” 

“No!” He roused himself, “No. Don’t do that. Can you...stay in here?” 

“Sleep with you?” 

“If you want? I wouldn’t mind.” He smirked, ever cocky. Nothing took that from him. “Two bodies are warmer than one.” 

“Bin...” 

His smile really was just a bit too cute. 

“Mm. I like it when you call me that.” He reached out his arm to tempt you in. “Please? Come on.” 

You toyed with his forearm, shaking it a little like you were throwing a tantrum. “Do I have to?” 

“Hey! We just had a fuckin’ moment! I just bore my frickin’ heart for you.” 

“I’m just teasing. I will.” 

Right by his wrist, a puffy scar caught your eye, and you wondered if you had missed cleaning one of his wounds. You turned his arm over, revealing the gnarly scar: a stripe, about 3 inches long running parallel to his arm. 

“What’s this?” You studied it further. 

“Oh. That. Don’t get mad, but, tonight’s fight wasn’t my first. Some fucker with a watch or a bracelet or something tore the shit outta my arm this one time.” He inspected it himself, “It’s my battle scar. I’m kinda proud of it. If I hadn’t stepped in, who knows what he would’ve done to his girlfriend? There’s a special place in hell for guys like him.” 

Stormy grey eyes. 

Rosemary and cedarwood. 

You thought you had cried all the tears that would’ve been possible that night. Blurred memories, the ones that you had tried so desperately to forget came flooding over you. How you hadn’t known...was beyond you. 

“Hey...” Changbin scooched back up to wipe your tears. “Tears again? What’s wrong?” His thumbs wiped them away. “You can tell me?” 

“It-it was you??” 

“Me? Me what?” 

“On that night, in the alley when it was snowing, I-I was alone and he...” 

Changbin’s eyes too blew out, then his own tears gathered in the corners. “Holy shit...that was you too?” 

“Yes.” 

“Oh my god.” 

Instinctually, he threw his arms around you, back into his scent that was just as clear as the real first night you had met him. Together, you both turned into babbling, sniffling messes. 

“Thank you. Thank you so much.” Your voice shook. “I’ve always wanted to thank you. I-I can’t believe--” 

“--Come here.” 

Changbin swept you off your feet and wrapped all of his limbs around your body where he had pulled you into the bed, finally sweeping the covers over top of both your bodies with a kiss to your forehead. 

“You’ve gone though so much. Fuck, I don’t know how you’ve done it.” 

Your own hands snaked around his body. “Bin...”

“We’re kind of impossible aren’t we? All those years ago, and now...” 

“Thank you.” You kissed into his mouth, silencing him something much sweeter than your secrets. 

His body shifted, and he returned with his own kisses, each one slow and careful. He twisted his body to lean slightly over you, wincing at the pain that it caused him. 

“Fuck. That hurt.” He sighed with a tiny pout, “But, I don’t want to stop kissing you.” 

You bit a little smile into his lips. “Don’t push yourself.” 

“What? I can’t help it.” 

This time, you pushed him back to swiftly cast your legs on either side of his hips to straddle him. “This better?” 

He hummed out a happy yes, reaching down to pull your lips into his again. Like it always had been, you could’ve kissed him like this for ages, and time would slip into nothingness: a mere construct undefinable. Outside, the world was still dark and cold, but inside, the heat of your two bodies mingling banished it all away. 

“By the way, I wanted to tell you that I think that your art is beautiful.” Changbin broke momentarily, then pointed to your unframed paintings stuck to the walls with painters tape. “I’ve never seen anything like them. I don’t know why you keep them hidden here. The world should see them.” 

“Trying to get into my pants now? Who told you to say that?” 

From your string lights, his whole being was bathed in a soft pink light. 

“No one. But I mean it...you know, if I wasn’t debilitated, who knows what I would do to you right now.” 

“Woooow, you talk such big game.” 

He shot you a teasing glance. “I’ll fucking do it, fuck my probably broken-or- bruised ribs.”  

“No! Don’t do that.” You chuckled. “Don’t hurt yourself.” With a newfound confidence, you lowered your body to hover your lips over his own. “What if I go easy on you....nice and slow? Didn’t you say once that you liked to take things slow?” 

His eyes darkened as he mimicked your tone. “Anything as long as it’s with you.” After, his hands swept all the way down your back, lightly brushing up the fabric of your sleep-shirt, then to kneed into your ass. “Will you let me love you tonight?” 

“Will you let me love you back?” 

“Yes.” 

You shoved your hips down into his, grinding as purposefully as you could over his half-hard dick and shivering at the sensation over your clit. Both of your bodies trembled at the action. Under the cotton sheets and down comforter, there was nothing that could have felt cozier against the bare skin of your arms, and the way that his fingertips traced scribbles into your back. 

In seconds, he had pulled your shirt off your head, kissing little moans into your mouth once his hands had found your breasts. All the while, you kept your hips moving, reveling in the way that with each thrust of your hips you had felt yourself get wetter. He pulled and tweaked at your nipples which hardened them instantly, and you bowed down to kiss him on all the places where he didn’t know he had needed the attention: on the tip of his nose, in the corners of his mouth, over that scar on his chin, fluttering over his bruised eyelid, overtop the Band-Aid above his eyebrow, giving care to all the little scrapes on his cheeks. 

He had keened his hips upwards, now properly hardened from your friction against him. Even just like this, his length felt heavenly. With a careful prompt, he guided your torso upward, granting his mouth better access of your perky nipples which he took into his mouth greedily. Even greedier hands cascaded down your stomach to your boyshorts where he pulled at the elastic. After, he ghosted his touch over the thin fabric separating him from touching your clit. The sensation nearly sent you topping over, but rather you grabbed at the iron headboard to your bed to steady yourself. Changbin blew his words over your nipples with a cool air. 

“Can I?” 

“Do you even need to ask?” You chuckled out. 

“Of course I do.” He hooked two fingers to help you shake the fabric off your legs. “I always do.” 

First, he pulled you down into his lips; a distraction, then he coaxed his digits into your folds. You hadn’t known how embarrassingly wet you had become, but that was nothing compared to the reality of it. The sounds of your slick coating his fingers was loud enough to make you giggle, and for him to return it. 

“That excited huh?” His index finger rubbed faint circles around your clit. 

“W-what about it?” 

“I just think that its cute.” He removed his hand to show you the way that your arousal strung around his fingers. “‘So wet for me, aren’t you angel?” 

“Mmhm.” Your hips did their own helpless dance over the pads of his fingers once he had brought them back down. “S-shit.” 

A wicked smile spread over his face as he indulged in you more. Back and forth, he traced around your swollen clit, then down to your entrance, barely giving you any contact at all. 

“Remember our first night? Hmm? Remember what I did to you? ...I could do it again...” 

“B-Bin...” You gasped out his name at the thought. 

His tongue slicked over your bottom lip, “Would you like that?” His index and middle finger swept even rougher swipes over your clit which sent you mewling back on his tongue. 

“Yes? Or no? Use your words Beautiful.” 

That intense feeling, that unreal feeling...you would’ve been lying if you had said you hadn’t dreamed of it. 

“...yes. I want you to.” 

“Okay my love. Just relax. Lean on me if you have to, okay?” 

“It won’t hurt you?” 

“No. Not at all.” 

With your quivering thighs, his hand dipped back down and toyed with the heat of your folds and angrily sensitive clit. Your choked moans muffled into the crook of his neck where you had buried your face. Every single touch of his made your body feel as if it was aflame. Relentlessly, he switched from circling to stopping, every once and a while slipping a couple fingers to stretch out your entrance. He wouldn’t grant it to you fully yet, but his curved digits teased at your g-spot for only seconds at a time. 

In his ears, you filled them with “more, more, more’s” and little whimpers of “deeper, deeper, please, deeper.” 

“More? Is that what you want?” 

He winced terribly at the action, but he pushed you off from on top of him till you were flat on your back, screwing his fingers into you deeply. 

“I’ll give you as much as you want.” He kissed the words to your collarbones. 

All at once, his pace was renewed, and his fingers curved up sharply inside of your pussy to simulate your g-spot as roughly and quickly as he could. In his skill he gave your clit attention with his flattened thumb. The overwhelming feeling built in your core and inched closer second by second. Your control over your body slipped past you, and you fell completely into the feeling. 

You came with a uncontrollable shake of your whole body, and a release of pressure that made you into a moaning mess--that of which you didn’t need to be careful of if you had been too loud or not. Freely, you convulsed with that indescribable feeing, and your liquids wetted both your thighs and the fringes of the sheets which Changbin just barely removed from your body. 

“Fuck. Fuck.” 

In his adoration, the man above you proudly chuckled at your body still quivering with aftershocks. 

“Think you can take a little more after that? Take your time angel.” 

Your head spun, but it did so only for a moment. As you came down, Changbin kissed one, two, three, little kisses into your shoulder while he admired the way that your body shook. 

You nodded, laughing at the fact that you really did have no idea what time it was, nor could you even guess. 

“Do you have--” 

“--Dresser. O-over there.” A weak finger of yours pointed to your side table. 

A series of grunts slipped out of him, but he rolled himself over to take a condom from the strand and take care of it himself. He hid is tiny embarrassed smirk once he laid down. 

“Angel, I-I think that you’ll have to--” 

“--I know.” 

Back to your origional position, you aligned your entrance against his length which was still as red and hardened as ever. 

“Nice and slow right?” 

With one hand, you guided his dick into your velvet walls. 

“Oh shit.” Changbin pulled at your lip with is teeth upon the first roll of your hips. “Just like that. Just...like that.” 

It was beautiful, the way that he felt inside you. It had hurt a bit the first time, but now, it was different. The way that he filled you up was perfection: you were perfect for him, and he was for you. 

“D-don’t stop.” He pleaded while he scraped his nails down your back. 

To think, the one who had told you he didn’t say “please” was now at your mercy. It took everything you had not to let it go to your head. 

He angled his hips upward, pushing himself even deeper, and you nearly lost your composure at the feeling. Your core tightened again, and you let yourself grind over him, not stopping once. 

“F-fuck. Bin, ah! Shit--” 

“Don’t stop, don’t stop.” Became his breathless mantra. “Y-you fuck me so good angel.”

Clambering lips came colliding and you rode out your orgasm on his dick fiercely, connecting your mouth with his so he could feel every little bit of the pleasure that he gave you. He did the same, spilling his euphoric “ah ah’s” all over your lips and eventually to your neck where he sucked carelessly upon his own orgasm. You milked every last bit of him from his throbbing erection until he shook and begged you to stop his overstimulation. 

Perhaps because you were tired, or you craved the feeling, but not a bone in your body wanted to move. 

“Can we stay like this...for a while?” 

Changbin kissed his answer back to you. 

“For as long as you like.” 

Yes, the both of you had turned to sweating messes, and the scent of sex hung heavy around the both of you. Of course, it smelled just a little like rosemary and cedarwood. Wrapped up in one another like this, there was no telling where you began and he ended. 

Until the sun peaked at the horizon, he filled you to the brim with his “I love you’s” anywhere that he could manage: into the palms of your hands, into the love bites he had painted onto your chest, onto your ears which he nibbled, and, into your sleepy eyes which had held his for as long as you could, until the allure of sleep drew both of them closed. 

[otakusheep15]

SFW Alphabet - Asmodeus

Asmo is the exact opposite of sfw, but I still think this’ll be fun lol. 

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

He is super affectionate and in multiple ways. He mostly shows his love through verbal praise. He’ll constantly hype you up, even over mundane things. Also really loves physical affection obviously. Not a moment passes where he isn’t touching you in some way. Other than this, he likes buying you things, especially clothes. 

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

You two go clubbing every single night. He’ll also be the perfect wingman and can get you a date in three seconds. Self-care days are a must for him, and he’ll drag you with him. Shopping trips are also quite common, and you two model outfits in the changing rooms for hours. 

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

This boy is a sucker for cuddles. One never knows what to expect with him though. Will he simply just lie down and cuddle you? Will he try and go farther? It’ always a gamble getting into bed with him. He also sleeps naked, so prepare for that. 

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Out of all the brothers, he’s the least likely to settle down. Obviously he loves you, but he is the Avatar of Lust. Chances are, one person just wouldn’t be enough to fulfil his desires, so he’s very hesitant to settle down. If you really beg him, he’ll do it, but he just doesn’t feel like it, and you might just have to accept that from him. 

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Honestly, it wouldn’t be so much of a breakup as much as him just wanting to see other people as well. Like I said, one person just isn’t enough for him, so he’d still want to keep the relationship open. If you can’t accept that from him, then he’d just break it off with you. He wouldn’t want to be with someone who doesn’t understand him, so he’d just tell you straight up that it isn’t working between you two. 

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Same with settling down, I just can’t see him wanting to get married. He’s also not very good at commitment honestly. If you plan on getting married, he isn’t the one for you. Again, if you really, REALLY begged for it, he might consider, but it would most likely have to be an open marriage. 

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He’s surprisingly gentle with you. He still loves you regardless of his sin, and he treats you like royalty. It’s non-stop pampering and sweet words with him. Of course, you two might get into petty arguments here and there, but he’s quick to make up with you and remind you how much he cares. 

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Hugging is one of his favorite forms of physical affection. In public especially, he’ll usually have an arm wrapped around you, or he’ll be hugging you from behind while you two are just standing. He also likes picking you up and spinning you cause he thinks it’s cute. 

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

He says it pretty fast, but not all that seriously. It’s kinda like how friends say it to each other, so he means it, but not in a couple way. However, the first time he says it and means it is actually takes a lot longer than expected. He’s never been involved in romance too much, so it’s still new to him. 

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

He’s probably the least jealous of the brothers. In all honesty, he’d feel kinda hypocritical if he got jealous over you despite flirting with literally everyone. It’d be more likely that he’d let you do whatever you want as long as you reassure him that he’s still your favorite, and he’ll do the same. If you get super jealous, I’d suggest not dating him lol. 

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

His kisses can go one of two ways. The first are super quick, just a way to show you off to others. The other way is super passionate and filled with emotion. There is no in between with him. He likes kissing you pretty much anywhere, but his favorite is your thighs cause he thinks they’re cute. His favorite place to be kissed is his back since it’s so sensitive. 

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

He thinks kids are cute, but only from a distance. If they even try and come near him, he will punch one. While he does think they’re cute, he also thinks they’re gross, germ-carrying monsters and he will not allow one in his vicinity. 

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

He usually wakes up pretty early cause of his care routine, but he does try his best not to wake you up. If you stay asleep, he’ll get started on his routine and wake you up when he’s done so that you two can go eat. If he does wake you up, he offers for you to join him, or just sit with him while he finishes up. 

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Nights are spent mostly the same as the mornings, but in reverse. After dinner, he goes and takes a nice bath and gets ready for bed. Of course, he wants you to join him in the bath, but if you don’t that's fine. He’ll just have you wait for him in his room, and then he’ll get you both ready to sleep. If you don’t want to sleep naked, he understands, but that doesn’t mean he won’t try and convince you to at least once. 

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

He only reveals the shallower side of himself cause that’s all anyone is usually interested in with him. However, once he sees that you mean more to him than anyone else, and that you do truly love him, he’ll begin to open up with you little by little. He’ll begin  spilling all of his darkest secrets and insecurities, and he knows that you’d never tell another soul about any of it. 

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

To be honest, he probably the most passive out of the brothers. I mean, he’ll stand up for you if a demon is harassing you or he’ll get upset if another brother is stealing you away from him too much, but he never gets all that mad about it. The only time he’d get genuinely mad is if someone won’t leave you alone even after you’ve told them to, or if someone actually hurts you.  

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He pretends like he doesn’t remember anything, but that’s only to surprise you later when he actually does. He’s another brother with a great memory, and he uses it well. You look at something a few second longer than normal while window shopping? Boom, it’s in your room the next day. You have an important day coming up? He’s there, ready to support you however you need. 

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

His favorite moment in your relationship was the first time you two went clothes shopping together. He had so much fun that day, spending the whole time modeling ridiculous outfits that you picked out for each other. You didn’t end up buying much, but it was still fun. After that, you two spend the rest of the day in his room just lounging around and vibing with each other in peace. Maybe something happened later that night, but that’s a secret. 

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Like the others, he’s super protective of you. He doesn’t show it as often, but he is still there for you no matter what. He’s especially protective of you when you two are out shopping or at a club. He knows how some demons can get when they see a weak human, so he knows he has to keep a constant eye on you. If someone gets too close for his or your liking, they’re getting erased from existence. 

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

He puts in SO much effort. This boy is so over-the-top with literally everything, and this is no exception. To him, you’re almost as perfect as he is, and he needs to show you that. He goes all out for every single date, and will do whatever you want. Honestly, he knows all of your likes and dislikes, so he will cater to whatever you find pleasant. 

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Obviously, he has a bad habit of flirting with others and getting handsy and honestly that’s not going away. He is the literally embodiment of lust, so there’s no changing how flirty he can be. In fact, the only way a realistic relationship between you would work is if it’s an open relationship, or you have an incredibly high sex drive and a lot of stamina. If neither of those suit you, then it might just not work out in the end. 

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

His looks are basically his entire life. He prides himself on looking absolutely perfect, so he spends a lot of time dedicated to his beauty routines. After all, he is said to be the most gorgeous demon in all of the Devildom. 

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Honestly, not really. Yes, he loves you, but he could live without you. After all, he has plenty others at his beck and call, so he honestly wouldn’t mind that much if you left him. At most, he’d feel sad for a few days, but he’d bounce back pretty quickly compared to the others. 

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

I headcanon him to be genderfluid. And no, not because he’s the feminine one of the brothers. It honestly has to do with his powers. Y’all know how Loki in the original myths was genderfluid and would often shapeshift in order to seduce people? Well, I imagine he would do something similar. Cause, as we know, not everyone likes men. So he’d shapeshift in order to seduce someone. Plus, I could also just see him not really caring about pronouns.  

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

He cannot stand someone who tries to change him. Yes, he understands that his lust can cause problems. No, he cannot change that about himself, even if he wanted to. And if someone tries to force him to stop, it’s an instant deal breaker for him. 

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

It’s no secret that he likes to sleep naked, but it goes a bit deeper than that. He loves skin-to-skin contact because it makes him feel warm. Not warm as in literally (although it does that too) but it just makes him feel nice. It reminds him of the inner warmth he felt as an angel all those years ago, and he just wants to have that same warmth back. 

Note: this one kinda makes it sound like I’m trying to hate on Asmo, but I promise I’m not. I love him very much, and this was not meant to shine a bad light on him at all. I just don’t like when people do relationship headcanons like these with him and treat him as though he’d be 100% loyal all the time. Of course, he loves MC above all else besides himself but he would still flirt with and seduce other people, and I feel like people just kinda sweep that under the rug. 

[petri808]

O5+Itafushi sick/injured/comfort for Anon 😊 totally canon divergent since we still don’t know a lot about their backgrounds and the series is still on going 🙃 Hurt/Comfort, angst w/happy ending. *Does container manga spoiler aspects if you’re not up to date on it.

It couldn’t be helped... logically, Megumi knew this, but what his brain understood didn’t mean his heart could accept. Yuuji was fated from the beginning to die and he knew— Knew that all the man wanted was to die without regret, and saving their world... well how much more honor could one achieve by fulfilling his grandfather’s dying wish? He should be happy for his friend, content in the knowledge that Yuuji gave them a chance to rebuild a better world without the fear of Ryomen Sukuna ever destroying it. Should be... but he wasn’t.

How many times had Megumi convinced himself they weren’t heroe’s, they were just sorcerers. Spiritual police in a sense, there to protect without a desire for acknowledgement. And that their deaths were both inevitable and not immune to regret. All they could do was their best not to garner too much of it and become the very curses they swore to fight. It was why most jujutsu sorcerers learned from an early age not to care about humanity, or at least lie to themselves that it was a possibility. Such bullshit, really.

So, as he stood there staring down at what remained of his best friend’s body, Megumi couldn’t help the regret bubbling up in his very soul. This was literally and figuratively his fault. Yuuji’s, or rather Sukuna’s exorcism was a combined effort in which he’d participated in. That’s not something you can simply set aside. Yes! Megumi was glad that Sukuna was gone, but so was Yuuji! He didn’t care if his friend had been born into, or chosen to, or somehow been trapped in this fate. It wasn’t fair at all. None of this was fair to any of them, just as his own birth had been an unfortunate creation for revenge.

“Fuck!” Megumi gritted out a barely audible utterance as his nails dug into the clenched fists at his sides, and tears trickled down his face. This wasn’t fair at all!

He shouldn’t even be there. If Gojou sensei knew he’d snuck into the morgue he’d be in trouble. But he didn’t care! They didn’t even let him say goodbye to his friend before carting him off to Dr. Shoko. It was for his own good— pfft, fucking uncaring bastards! Yuuji was the first real person he’d ever connected with who gave him back a sense of the humanity he’d lost along the way. The man made him feel, and now. “Fuck...” Megumi knew he was screwed. His heart had crossed the line. Images of a smiling Yuuji play like a movie behind his closed eyes, bringing a pained smile curling on Megumi’s lips. He’d avoided admitting it to himself, but it was true. He’d fallen for Yuuji Itadori.

It had been an unspoken promise Megumi made to Yuuji, one he’d made deep within his heart the moment it had chosen to cross the line. He’d find a way to sever Sukuna from Yuuji and save his love from the ultimate sacrifice. This promise had never been proclaimed from his own lips, but there was no running from the covenant he’d created in his soul. As Sukuna once explained, certain pacts in their works simply could not be broken.

His knees weakened, crumpling Megumi to the floor in a position of summary execution. All of the emotional walls he’d learned to control, gave way in a flood, sending shadowed curse energy to blanket the room. He didn’t even try to stem the flow of power surging out from his pain. It was entirely selfish to lash out with his regret and anger, but Megumi couldn’t stop... didn’t want to let go. “It’s not fair!” He raged into the still darkness. “I should have saved you! If I was stronger, I could have saved you! But I’m too weak... even now, I can’t...” he hung his head head and closed his eyes, “I can’t even let you die properly because you deserve to live Yuuji...” Because I still need you... Damn the consequences, he’ll take whatever comes his way! “Yuuji!!!”

.....Megumi wasn’t exactly sure what happened, how he ended up passed out on his side, or even how long he was laying there. But something gentle brushed against his face, sweeping his hair aside, and caressing it to stir him awake. His body was groggy from the power drain, eyes barely able to focus in the amber emergency lighting. Whatever it was said nothing, just continued soothing him and coaxing with light prodding to wake up. It felt so nice... Wait! Fuck! Was he caught?! Was it Gojou, Dr. Shoko, someone else?!

His eyes flash open wide as he scrambled to sit up, ready to explain himself, but— “Sukuna?!” Megumi screamed in shock.

“What?!” The naked man stumbled back, looking around in a panic. “Where?! He’s supposed to be dead!”

Megumi adjusted his eyes better, because the form in front of him looked like Yuuji, but with all of the same markings as Sukuna, including the second set of open eyes. Although the voice was different... not exactly Yuuji’s, not Sukuna’s, maybe a mix of both. “Who are you?” He asked, noting that the curse energy flowing from this thing was akin to Sukuna in power and this could be a trick from the God of Curses. Is this what his regret had wrought?!

“It’s me,” the figure stepped forward in confusion, a hand over his chest. “Yuuji. Megumi how could you not know it’s me?”

“Because you look like and feel like Sukuna.”

Yuuji looked down at his body and could see the markings too. But that’s when he also noticed something else in the room. His dead body lying on the operating table. His eyes widen as they whip back to Megumi. “Am I?!” His shaky voice cracked.

It was becoming clear. Megumi nodded. “My regret brought you back as a...”

“Curse...” Yuuji breathed out. He was stunned, and yet somehow not surprised. “Wow... but I don’t look like a normal curse.” He could think and feel, “I’m like Mt. Fuji head?”

“I don’t understand it either. I’m so sorry Yuuji— I just couldn’t let you go.” The tears formed again in Megumi’s eyes. “I’d sworn to myself I’d save you, but I failed miserably and for that... n-now you’re a curse.”

“I should be mad at you.” Yuuji knelt down in front of his friend, smiling. “But I’m not. I know all too well how hard it is to let go of people we care about.”

Megumi shook his head. “You don’t understand. I’m being selfish and that’s wrong! I just... I-I just... I love you too much to let you go.”

“You... love me? Like a friend, friend love or...”

Megumi turned away and if it wasn’t so dark his blushing cheeks would be glaringly obvious. “No, the other kind.”

“Brotherly love?”

For a second there, Megumi had to question his own sanity again for failing in love with an idiot. He ran his hand down his face in a huff. “The I wanna kiss you kind! I know you said you like women with big butts and all, but yeah,” he mumbled, “that’s how I feel about you idiot.” His face was truly on fire by this point, only made more difficult by the fact the man he loved was hanging out for all to see.

“Oh!” Yuuji chuckled and sandwiched Megumi’s face between the palms of his hands. “I’m just messing with you. I knew that for a while now.”

“Wait how?!” But dang if seeing Yuuji’s smile again didn’t just melt him. “I kept it hidden.”

“You did, but Sukuna sensed it in you when your domains overlapped, and he showed me.”

Yuuji leaned forward and brought their lips together in an awkward kiss. It was brief, but for Megumi, it solidified how he felt. That yes, he really did love this man and finally! He got to kiss him!

“There was a time I thought Sukuna had a crush on you actually,” Yuuji chuckled. “But then of course, it turned out he just wanted to use you.”

“So... you’re okay with me liking you?” As he spoke, Megumi pulled his coat off and handed it to Yuuji to cover up.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Yuuji smiled and put on the coat. “But what do we do now? Technically I’m not alive, I’m a walking, talking curse.”

“Fuck,” Megumi sighed, his shoulders slumping, “I didn’t exactly think this through, just lost control.”

Yuuji placed a hand on his shoulder, “hey, we’ll figure it out. We always do.”

Megumi couldn’t hold back any longer. He pulled Yuuji into a tight bear hug as renewed tears pooled in his eyes. “I don’t care what you are, I’m just happy to have you back.”

Yuuji returned the hug. “Me too.”

Suddenly, clapping echoed through the darkened room seconds before the light switch was flipped on, causing Megumi to flinch. Shit! They were caught so quickly!

“I had a feeling this would happen.”

It was Gojou’s voice. Aww crap!

Megumi moved Yuuji and placed himself between the two men. “Leave him alone!”

“Oh, don’t worry your pretty little head Megumi Chan, I’m not gonna exorcise him. I followed you here, so if I’d wanted to stop you, I would have done so sooner.”

“You’re messing with me.” Megumi narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “It’s our job to dispatch curses. Why would you make an exception.”

“Yes, under the old ways, but as you know, those ways were destroyed by us. As long as a curse is not a problem, I don’t care if they exist.” Gojou cocked his head in an evil grin. “Yuuji is now for you, as what Rika is for Okkotsu. I didn’t exorcise Rika, did I?”

“No...”

“Exactly!” He clapped his hands together. “Having powerful special grades on our side is a benefit in my eyes,” Gojou moved his mask to reveal his own, “and these eyes know everything,” he winks before affixing the mask. “Besides, who am I to get in the way of love,” he shrugged.

Megumi rolled his eyes at that last jab, but Yuuji let out a sigh of relief. “Gojou sensei, do you know why I’m like this?” He motioned to his body. “Shouldn’t I be more like Rika? But I can think for myself and talk, and I feel... well, normal.”

“That’s a good question!” Gojou cackled and pointed at Yuuji. “I have no idea!”

“Ugh!” Megumi slaps his forehead. This man never changed.

“But,” Gojou grew serious in an instant, “I can guess there are three factors involved.” He held up one finger, “Number one! You, Yuuji are no ordinary human but created by a curse at birth.” Raising a second finger, “Number two! You and Sukuna were bonded at the instance of death, so you’ve fused with him.” Adding a third finger, “and lastly, number three! When one special grade sorcerer curses another former special grade sorcerer, that amount of curse energy wasn’t going to create a lower lever spirit. So, voila! You were made Yuuji!”

“But is it like I still have control of Sukuna or something?”

“I don’t know, you tell me. Do you still sense him?”

Yuuji paused in thought before shaking his head no.

“It’s likely Sukuna’s soul was fully exorcised, and since Megumi was only thinking of you, it was only you that was brought back. This is just the form your cursed energy has taken. We’ll need to test what powers you’ve retained, but from what I’m sensing, they are on par with Sukuna’s residual energy.”

It’s Megumi who speaks up next. “So, is Yuuji allowed back at school?”

“I’ll allow it, provided your classmates don’t mind. Remember, while you can see him, he’s no longer alive, so normal humans won’t see him anymore. He is just a cursed spirit.”

Megumi and Yuuji looked at each other, then back to their teacher with Yuuji taking hold of Megumi’s hand. “I think they’d get mad if we didn’t return,” Yuuji smiled.

Gojou tipped two fingers as he turned to leave, “then I shall see you in class tomorrow. Try to keep the noise down in your room.” He teased with a cackle.

Megumi flushed red. “He’s so irritating.”

“Yeah, but you gotta admit Gojou sensei’s one of the cool ones.”

“Yeah,” Megumi sighed, but smiled. “Guess we should head back to school too.”

Yuuji squeezed his new boyfriend’s hand and nodded. “I can’t wait to see everyone’s faces when I walk in!”

“Just, no practical jokes like phasing through walls to scare them. We don’t need someone actually trying to exorcise you.”

“Oh, right! I’ll behave.” Without warning, Yuuji then swept Megumi into a bridal carry. “Let’s test my powers! I bet I’m faster than Gojou sensei now!”

“Wait! What are you doing?!”

Yuuji grinned down at Megumi with ruby red eyes glowing. “Trust me.” Cause I’ll kill anyone who dares to hurt you now...

[angeli-marco-writes]

Charlie Weasley - Secret

A/N - This is my first imagine thing uploaded on Tumblr, and I’m uploading the smutty version of this story on this platform before posting the more PG version to my wattpad collection. Check it out: angeli-marco. Also this somehow became a Gryffindor reader kinda thing, it’s just what works but imagine you’re not in Gryffindor if you fancy.

Warnings - smut, rough sex, choking, kinky, all that jazz. Starting this blog off with a bang, literally. 6k words of p*rn with plot.

Summary - you have a secret regarding the dragon taming Weasley. The only issue is that he sees you as the child you were a few years ago. When you become legal, he seems to seek you out wherever you are. Maybe he has a secret, too.

YOU HAD A SECRET, a secret that no one beside yourself and your best friend knew, not that you’d readily admit to anyone that for your first three years at Hogwarts, you’d had a crush on none other than Charlie Weasley. Now, beginning your seventh year, having not seen him in three years, you’re surprised to find that your crush still lingers.

You’ve kept the notes that he wrote you, since the pair of you were actually quite close, Charlie tucking you under his wing once he found out your love of magical creatures. He nurtured your passion for the outdoors from the start of your second year. He sent notes, would help you access the forest, and he’d show you drawings of all these magical creatures that he wanted tattooed once he was older. He was the best.

All of these thoughts catch up to you while you’re lying in your tent, eyes closed and dreams clouding your vision, willing you to sleep. Until you hear yells.

Screams come from outside, howls and wails, yells for help and sacrifice. Not the kind of happy bellows that you’d expect after the World Cup Quidditch match. And then all of a sudden, moonlight beams in through the canvas of your one-man luxury tent and illuminates shadows you haven’t seen before, making you dwell in eeriness. 

A head pops into your tent, followed by a voice, one that’s so familiar it makes your stomach ache and the hairs on your arm stand on edge. 

“Whoever’s in here, you need to go! Get to safety, now!”

Charlie. As clear as day.

“I’m coming, what’s happening?” You call back, voice shaky while you try to stand up, legs nearly bowing and giving way beneath you. 

“Death Eaters. Wait, Y/N?” 

He recognises you from your voice. Your body feels electrified already. Not the right time, you scold yourself, but you can’t help feeling a little pride that he still remembers you. 

“It’s me, Charlie, I’ll come to fight with you.”

You hear him stutter from outside, but within seconds, he’s raced across the expanse of your tent and has his arm wrapped around your waist.

“You’re too young,” he insists, but you just pull your wand out and look at him.

His blue eyes twinkle, even in a moment like this, and you feel as though he’s boring into your soul, which in all fairness you wouldn’t say no to.

You sigh, “I’m of age and I’m here alone, don’t think I’m not coming, Dragon Boy.”

He smirks at the nickname you gave him so many years ago, but smiles and brings you outside, still gripping onto you in any way he can.

You run to the centre of the outbreak. Men in masks levitating helpless muggles , the Ministry and other helpers already failing at bringing them down. It’s worse than you could’ve imagined. Charlie pulls you behind him, gripping your wrist with a determination, a protectiveness, one that he still had back in the day. Though it’s not the time, you feel your stomach flutter, even letting out a giggle at his gesture mere seconds before running out from behind him.

You proceed to run into the centre of the action, Charlie not far behind, calling out your name in the most desperate way you’ve heard him speak. 

What he doesn’t realise is how much you’ve grown over the past few years. You’ve become trained in combat, mostly thanks to Professor Lupin, and you’re really bloody good at it. You have virtually every possible spell in your arsenal, ones that many ministry members mayn’t even know, all thanks to Lupin again who gave you one on one lessons and prepared you for anything. Not to mention that you play Quidditch for your house team, something that you always admired Charlie for, but now you’re extremely agile, ready for almost anything, and prepared to fight. 

What you see is pure injustice, people being persecuted for their blood, all for a sick game. You’re a little scared, that’s a given, but you know it isn’t right, so aim a stunning spell straight at the chest of the tallest man in a mask. Non verbally, so he doesn’t see you coming. He falls to up the ground, wand discarded, a wand which you happily take and slot into your pocket. Your thought process is that you’ll take the men down one by one, maybe with a little help since you are only a 17 year old girl, while the weak ass ministry workers try what’s best for their image. 

And really, that’s the way it goes. A good while later, when you’ve participated in a couple of duels, ended up flat on your arse in front of everyone, with a cut on your cheek and anger roaring in your blood, only then do you get a rest.

Charlie and his brother helped duel the masked men, taking them down, while the Ministry brought the muggles down to their Rightful Place and proceeded to wipe their memories. Horrible ordeal, all done incorrectly for press, especially since every single man got away, at least that’s what you counted. You tuck your wand away in your pyjamas. Certainly not the right clothes you wanted to be wearing when meeting Charlie again, but so be it. 

You sit on the floor, looking up at the stars and hollow moon, really hungry and a little shaken up. You have a cold compress on your face, well, a tissue that you used an aguamenti charm to dampen and proceeded to lay it over your pounding forehead, throbbing eyes and bruising cut. 

“Let me help you with that,” Charlie says, coming to sit beside you. You didn’t hear him approaching, so his sudden presence takes you by surprise. Surprise that evaporates the second he lays his hand on your thigh. 

“Fancy seeing you here,” you quip, nudging his shoulder, “didn’t think you’d recognise me.”

It’s true, you really didn’t. You would’ve thought that you’d have to prove your identity with the notes he wrote you and by inside jokes you ice had, but he recognised you solely by your voice, very rare. You’ve changed a lot since your third year, growing taller, filling out, gaining a very desirable figure and you changed your style completely, including a complete makeover of your hair, and a nose piercing. 

“How could I not? You still sound the same as ever.”

Once again, true. No matter what other hormonal and physical changes you’ve endured, not one of them included losing the babyish feature that your voice held, constantly making you sound like you’re dosed up on a little helium.

“And, you’re still as cute, but very... um...”

Wow. You have Charlie speechless, what a rarity. He has two modes, silent, or never shutting up, and the latter usually only comes when he’s with friends.

“Grown up?” You offer, turning to face him with a small smirk painted on your lips.

He chuckles, a low rumbling sound from the bottom of his throat while his eyes tiresomely yank themselves away from your best features, “yeah, you could say that.”

He brings an arm around your waist, shuffling along the ground to sit beside you, and then a warm hand encloses over your own, the one holding the bloody cloth to your face. Slowly, he takes the cloth away and replaces its positioning with rough, calloused fingers, tracing the outline of your cut. 

“Tergeo,” Charlie murmurs, and he watches all the blood and debris disappear from your face, leaving a clean cut.

You stare into his eyes, feeling the same thing of fireflies in your bloodstream as you did when he looked into your eyes when you were all but a child. It’s illuminating, he makes you feel seen, he makes you feel special. He edges forwards, and forwards, until your breath mingles together...

“Try this!” He exclaims with a fake enthusiasm, jolting his head away from your own and clearing his throat with as much subtlety as a Hebridean black.

Charlie withdraws a small, battered tin from his pocket, placing it shakily into your open palm.

“I use it all the time on the sanctuary,” he opens the tin, places one finger inside, and swipes a cooling, vanilla scented balm over your cut.

You wince, involuntary flinching away from him, but your hand grips his string thigh. He contracts and calms beneath your touch as he rubs the balm over your cut, and you can almost feel it recovering.

“As good as new,”

Charlie brushes his lips against your forehead, the way he used to do,  it ignites something special in you both this time.

He hesitates. “You’re still at school, aren’t you?” You nod, tucking your hair behind both ears, smiling up at him shyly. “I’ll see you sooner than you expect, I promise, but I have to be with my family now.”

Bemusement flashes over your face, but instead of questioning it and ruining the mystery, you just settle for a smile. Slotting your palm in his, Charlie steadies you to your feet and swiftly pulls you flush against him. 

“You look so beautiful, Y/N, so grown up. I miss you.”

His voice cracks, neediness clear in his deep, dulcet tones. He wraps his arms around your almost bare shoulders, allowing yours to fall around his waist. He’s grown impossibly taller, gained even more muscle, and his heart has most definitely swelled in his absence. 

“I miss you too,” you murmur against his chest, the words getting lost within his chest, the warmth of his skin on your face through a tear in his shirt. You could quite happily stay in his arms all day, all night and never get tired. 

Soon, though, he withdraws and holds you at arms length, observing every blemish on your face and the way your eyelashes curl and the way your lips quirk into a smile at the mere thought of him. You want him to wander further, for his eyes to follow down your body, the way your bust is accentuated in your scrappy pyjama top, and the way your 3/4 leg pyjama bottoms fall low on your hip and stay snug around you with no effort at all; but he stays with his eyes fixed on yours.

“Stay safe.”

And with a kiss, the brush of his stubble on your cheek, he’s gone and you’re left to wonder if him being beside you tonight was just a dream.

-x-

It’s been months since you saw Charlie last, despite his promise that he’d see you sooner than anticipated. You, however, had expected to see him there as a new teacher on September 1st, but your wish didn’t come true. 

Your first two months at school weren’t too bad: a decent DADA teacher (nothing on Lupin though), no escaped prisoners, no escaped trolls or petrified students, and you could safely say that it was the most normal year you’d had so far at Hogwarts, at least since Harry Potter started. 

That basic joy and normality evaporated with the announcement of the tournament, which you most unequivocally would not enter under any circumstances, so you stayed out of the way ever since. You couldn’t be arsed with the other schools, nor all the gossip about the tasks, and you instead continued to busy yourself with your nightly creature endeavours. You’d walk to all your favourite spots where unicorns, nifflers, bowtruckles and more stayed, but not once did you bump into Charlie.

You began to feel defeated, lost, like you wouldn’t see him again and he’d just been lying, or maybe it was all a dream. But tonight, your walk is different. 

The sun set early, late November creeping in and enveloping you in a warm blanket of darkness, the moon comforting you. It’s not even curfew yet, nowhere near, but maybe you’ll stay out here until sunrise, nap beneath the stars, all curled up with an aethonan winged horse, but deep within the forest you hear clattering. There’s yells, roars, sudden blasts of light, and your curiosity gets the best of you.

You crawl all through the trees and bushes, finding a comfortable path, only to come across four huge dragons in their pens, a collection of wizards, all dressed the same as Charlie, dotted around them. And then, only then, do you see his twinkling blue eyes, a breath of fire from one of the dragons reflecting in them.

“Charlie!” You cry out, not caring about any form of common courtesy on your endeavour through the final brambles until you fall straight into his arms. 

“I told you I’d see you soon.” He smirks, but you can just tell that he’s itching to grin like a Cheshire Cat.

You climb him like a vine, legs wrapped around his waist and arms around his neck. You tug at his man-bun and watch as his Adam’s apple bobs up and down. His face falters, cheeks a flaming red, and once again he clears his throat. He turns his head away awkwardly, still keeping his grip on you, so he doesn’t anticipate when you cup his jaw and angle his gaze towards you once more. 

“Do you want to kiss me, Charlie?” You ask, voice low and sultry, hips rearranging themselves atop him. 

He stutters, tongue tied, pupils blown wide with lust but the colour drains from his face. You repeat yourself, eyes boring into his with a ferocity you haven’t felt since that night in August. His freckled eyelids fall shut for a couple of seconds, crinkling in the corners, and then they shoot open, his nose nudging yours, lips grazing yours...

“Charlie!”

He sighs, putting you down onto the ground, and he turns his back momentarily which allows you to examine the way the moonlight ripples over his leather jacket. 

“What, mate?” He calls, the most exasperated time you’ve ever heard him use, and you can see his heavenly back muscles tensing through his clothes.

“A little hand over here?” A European accent calls him over. “When shithead gets back from his food run, then you can run off with your girlfriend, but for now we need help.”

Charlie rolls his eyes and slumps his chest forwards. Clearly he’s not happy, and you can’t blame him. It’s a lovely evening that could be silent shagging you, but he has to spend it being burnt by dragons.

“You’ve had an impact on their language then, they’ll be yelling ‘BOLLOCKS’ soon if you’re not careful.” Charlie chuckles at your quip and brings you into his side. 

“You still like animals, right? Fancy giving us a hand?”

You know Charlie well enough to know that he’s actually serious, so he sheds his jacket to wrap around your shoulders, and brings you toward the centre of the fire pit with him. You get strange looks from all the other dragon tamers and you can’t blame them. A girl like yourself, you don’t much look like a dragon tamer, but anything for Charlie.

The task is easier than you anticipated anyway, giving you ample opportunity to watch Charlie’s body, the way he moves, the way he smiles, and you even catch a glimpse of a few tattoos. You feel heat flowing to your core, desperate for him to just snog you already.

All you really have to do is cling to the rough skin of Charlie’s hand and dodge fire, occasionally shooting stunning spells at the Horntail or pulling on some chains to keep the creatures tethered. The beasts truly are magnificent, and it’d be a lot easier to take notes on them and examine them a little more closely if it weren’t for Charlie’s cute bum looking far too tight in his jeans, making your fingers ache to touch him. 

You shrug his jacket off when curfew approaches, only just keeping time by slanting his wrist towards yours every so often, and so you drape it back over his shoulders, unwittingly giving him a kind of bear hug. He brings you around to his front, your legs settling comfortably on his hips, and he smirks at you. Bloody hell, just his smirk does things to you. 

His breath mingles with yours, fogging your vision from the way it steams in the cold, night air. The moon shines down and illuminates constellations with each and every one of Charlie’s freckles. You slip a hand to his cheek, resting it on his stubble for just a moment while you stare longingly into his eyes. There’s no need to rush such a beautiful moment, but then he dips his head a little in order to catch your lips in a slow, savoured kiss, allowing every feeling the two of you harbour each other to be portrayed through the slow, deft dance if his lips on yours, passion exchanged when his tongue slips into your mouth, longing and urgency once he begins to fervently nibble at your lip...

“Fuck, Charlie...” you moan into his mouth, his hips involuntarily rutting against your core. You can feel just how much he wants this. 

His eyes are shut, holding you against him with one hand slipped under your bum and the other exploring your back beneath your top. You kiss him again, needier this time, breathier, and you just pray that everything you feel can be portrayed in your mix of reverent kisses and sultry movements, your hips grinding down on him. 

You pull away, gasping for air, rubbing your thumb over the curve of his cheek. You didn’t even notice your other hand moving to fist at his shirt for support, too lost in the moment. Your eyes flutter open and you search his for some kind of a tell tale sign that he just snogged you senseless, and you can see it in how lust-blown his pupils are. The earth cracks beneath the two of you while you’re still wrapped in the security of your kiss, but eventually you slip from his waist and land steadily on the floor, minuscule in comparison to his stature.

“I’ll wedge the portrait open and I’ll see you later. Don’t be too late. I’m sure you know how to sneak into the girls dorms by now.” You whisper to him, your voice carried away with the roars of the dragons and the nightly breeze.

And with a wink, you’re gone, with Charlie left dumbfounded, feet behind as you walk away into the depths of the forest, only to emerge the other side more flustered than ever before.

-x-

As soon as you reach your dormitory, you’re glad to see that all your roommates have disappeared, probably to their significant others' beds, or late night training help for Diggory just to watch him work out. You, however, have no inclination for anything or anyone other than Charlie. 

You tidy your bed as much as you can manage, tucking clothes away wherever you can in as small a time frame as you have, leaving ample time to let your nerves subside and your tension to dissipate before getting ready for Charlie’s arrival, you just hope to Merlin that he’ll turn up. The way he kissed you gave you he, the way he savoured you in every sense, kind yet needy, soft yet burning. Just the thought makes you rise in goosebumps, let alone imagining what he’ll do to you tonight. 

Finally, after what feels like a lifetime has passed, you’re lying in your four-poster with the covers wrapped around your body, the silk slip you put on leaving nothing to the imagination with the way it brushes your hips and clings to the swells of your breasts, moonlight shimmering on the fabric with any movement, the material almost not even daring to skim your skin from how in control you are of your body in that rare moment of power over yourself, and then you hear a knock, all of your composure flying out the window. 

“Hey beautiful, it’s me.”

His voice sounds like molten honey with a slight rasp and you’ve never heard anything more perfect, so with as much normality as you can, you open the door to him.

“Fucking hell...”

The words tumble from his mouth so freely upon the sight of you, hair swept off your face with a scrunchie and nothing but your well chosen slip gracing your body, Charlie looks as though he may combust. 

You step aside while Charlie awkwardly walks over the threshold into your dorm, no doubt one that he spent many nights in when he was a seventh year, but as soon as the chestnut door swings shut, he’s got you pressed against it with his chapped lips hovering over your own, the rough material of his jeans tantalising on your bare thighs. 

“Did you think it was funny for you to kiss me like that? Climb all over me? Touching me relentlessly? I couldn’t concentrate, your ass in those leggings and you wearing my jacket, I’ve never seen anything so sexy.” He croons in your ear, causing you to involuntarily mewl and buck your hips against his. You were already at his mercy, clinging to his jacket and clawing at the back of his neck while he holds you up, the wood chilling on your tingling spine. 

“When I left, you know, I thought I’d never see you as more than a friend, but now? The World Cup? You’ve gotten so mature, and your body, sweet Merlin. You’re all I want.”

You release a strangled moan, not wanting to let him know just how much his words are riling you up, but you’re sure he can already tell by the quirk of his lips, upturning into a smirk, a special glint in his eye that he was notorious for in his last year. 

“Are we gonna do this? I’ve fancied you since I was twelve, Charlie, please.”

He chuckles at your desperation, but sheds his leather jacket nonetheless and steadies you on your feet once more. Within seconds, you’re pouncing on him and beginning to strip his shirt, pulling it out from his jeans and up over his head. He seems equally as eager as you with the way his hands take a bruising grip onto your hips, scared of stripping you of your only covering just yet. 

You run your hands all over his tanned, muscular torso, covered in burns and tattoos and a fine dusting of dark ginger hair. There’s a Romanian Longhorn on his right peck, a Norwegian ridgeback on his left bicep (slightly distorted from a bad burn), an animated Zouwo on his hip and a crup pup on his perfectly angled shoulder blade. Charlie’s gonna be the death of you, you can just sense it by the heat radiating off his body. 

Your eyes bulge as the pad of your finger trails the swells and dips of his abs, and the way his muscles ripple is divine, you may just puddle at his feet.

“I swear, Charlie...” you murmur, your fingers deftly working on his jeans, shoving them down his hips before winding your arms around his neck.

He lets out a broken groan when you tug his hair, weaving your fingers into his unruly red locks. He holds your waist and slowly grips the flimsy fabric in his big hands, allowing your back to arch against him from how electrifying his touch is on your upper thighs and now bare hips...

He kisses your collarbone, sucks marks on your neck, fans his hot breath over the shell of your ear, peppers feather light kisses to your jawline; all of them make you whimper, shivering and trembling like a leaf against his body from his other ministrations as well as the work of his lips. Until finally, his mouth slants over yours and his arms curl around your thighs, wrapping them around his bared torso, every inch of him carved by a Greek god. He slips his tongue into your mouth, savouring the moan that slides from your lips, swallowing it and keeping you for his own. He walks backwards until his knees hit the side of your bed, allowing you to clamber onto his body and latch your teeth onto his earlobe, biting a mark just below.

“Fuck baby...” he whispers. He grips your hips and ass to control your movements on top of him, feeling his boxers just tighten even more. “Your ass is perfect...”

He hikes your nightgown up even more, bunching it above your waist, while he massages the globes of your ass, kneading them between his rough fingers and pulling your ass cheeks apart for him. Just by those simple ministrations, you know that you’re in for a rough night.

“Fuck me, dragon boy,” you plead, eyes trained on his as his entire being is overcome with a desire to devour you, you can tell by the way his nose scrunches and his lips upturn into the most devilish smirk you’ve ever seen on anyone.

“That’s Daddy or Sir to you tonight, baby.”

The gasp that escapes your mouth is the most pornographic sound you’ve made in your life, not that you’ve had much experience to. His palm rubbing your pussy erases all inhibitions, and the thought that you should probably warn him you’re a virgin. Not completely, you’ve done stuff with guys before, but you’ve never gone further than third base, so your dildo is your only relief. That should be enough, right?

“You’re so wet for me, my sweet baby. I bet you taste amazing.” Already you’re mewling, clawing at his back, a whimpering mess and he isn’t even inside you yet.

Within a second you find yourself beneath him, hungry eyes looking at you as though you’re his prey, one hand planted firmly on your pillow beside your head and the other with two fingers knuckle deep inside you. You cry out in pleasure, toes curling, but it all just gets so much better when he begins to thrust his hand at an inhumane speed, fingers curling up inside you and pressing that perfect spot perfectly each time. Part of you expected him to start slow: one finger, shallow and slow thrusts; but he’s just going for it, and the ecstasy is incomparable to anything you’ve felt before.

“Are you already that weak for me?” He purrs.

Yes, yes you are. His movements, the flick of his wrist and the jolt of his fingers deep within whenever you clench around him. You can’t fathom a response, especially not when the heel of his hand continually hits your clit and his lips wrap themselves around your nipple.

“Fuck, Sir, I’m so close...” you whisper in his ear, yanking on his hair with one hand, eliciting a groan followed by a swift slap to your ass, his body now being held up by only his knees . 

The way your fingers thread and tangle in his red locks and pull a little too harshly makes him insert a third finger. He twists his fingers inside you, hitting more places than before, and he withdraws his hand. You whine a little at the loss of contact, and certainly don’t anticipate their plough back inside, sharp and vicious, you’re unprepared for the sudden rush of contact to your clit, and even less prepared for the way Charlies tongue licks a circle around your other nipple, so you come. Stars blur before your eyes, a strangled guttural cry leaving your throat as Charlie rides it out for you. You already feel spent, body lax after scratching marks into Charlie's back while you clenched and came totally undone around his hand.

When you look up, Charlie’s still hovering above you, glistening hand between the two of you. As your eyelashes flutter and you focus on him, he knows he has your attention, so brings his hand up to his mouth and curls his tongue around his fingers, all covered with your cum. He moans as he tastes you, the most erotic sound that’s ever graced your ears, and it may just be the most sensual thing you’ve seen in your life. A slight fire lights itself in your belly while watching him, immediately ready for round two, so you let both your eyes and your hands dance down his perfectly toned body to his boxers. Your fingers feebly wrap around his member through his shorts, grasping tightly to cause jolts of both pleasure and pain shooting up Charlie’s spine. He hisses through his teeth and immediately climbs off the bed, only to retrieve a shiny silver packet from his pocket.

“Are you gonna be a good girl, sweet baby, or am I gonna have to teach you a lesson?” He coos.

You never thought that you’d be into any of this stuff, the ‘Sir’ and ‘Good girl’ and the spanking, but Merlin’s beard it’s turning you on.

“I’ll be good for you, but only tonight Charlie.”

He seems dissatisfied by your answer. You can tell by the way he strikes the side of your ass with his palm and proceeds to look completely calm about it. You’re quite literally salivating though, his dominance increasing your pleasure tenfold.

“Fuck,” you whisper, backtracking in your mind, “I’ll do what you want, just fuck me.”

Your hands find the hem of his boxers, pulling them off in one fell swoop and throwing them to the other side of the room. He’s huge, long and a decent girth, so big that you’re slightly fearful. You made a fist around his dick and moved your hand up and down a couple of times, looking up at Charlie with innocent doe eyes that you can tell are driving you crazy by the way his cock twitches in your hand. You stroke him a little faster, thumb flicking over his tip and allowing the drop of pre-cum to lubricate a couple more jerks before you settle back down, watching Charlie as he intently focuses on rolling the condom down his throbbing length. Fuck, it’s beautiful.

“On your hands and knees.” He orders you in a throaty voice. You look at him with eyes full of scepticism but only for a moment before complying, sticking your ass in the air at the foot of your bed, just waiting for him to do something.

He brings his hand down on your ass again, the skin prickling a little, causing you to moan again, seemingly what he wants, because slowly he begins pushing into you. He starts slowly, just his tip entering you after he’s run his cock through your folds and collected your essence. He stretches as the rest of his length pushes in, cautiously placing a hand on the small of your back to steady himself. You clutch the sheets beneath you, pleasure overwhelming the pain.

“Is that ok? I’m not hurting you, am I?” Charlie sounds worried, hands rubbing around your waist and stomach soothingly.

“No, no it’s brilliant, but I don’t mind if you wanna hurt me…”

You can hear his breath hitch in his throat. “W-what do you mean? I don’t want to hurt you properly… what are you thinking of?”

Your pause is atmospheric, leaning into a yoga resembling pose with arms laying flat and your back arched to perfection, boobs pushed into your duvet. You hum, “Choking, maybe a little more spanking, just general rough sex. Mark me as yours.”

Charlie's knees almost buckle beneath him, removing a hand from caressing your body to steady himself on the poster of your bed. “You sure about this? I still wanna actually make love to you, I’m not all dominant…” You let out a soft chuckle and turn behind you, cocking a smile at him. A subtle nod paired with the part of your lips gives him all the answer he needs to grip your hips and pull out from you, only to slam back in with an unrivalled force.

Your ass jiggles with the power of his thrusts, Charlie's dick pumping in and out of you making you reach new heights of pleasure. His hand wraps around your hair, forming a ponytail and pulling you flush against him, your lightly sweaty back against his heaving chest, his hair tickling your spine. One of his hands grips your hip harshly, intermittent grunts of your name escaping his lips, and the other hand moves up your body, massaging your breast and plucking at your nipple.

“Can I choke you?” His voice comes out raspy, followed by a moan as you clench around his twitching cock, merely from his words.

“God, please.” You beg him, unsure if you’ve ever been so needy in your life.

His long fingers slowly wrap themselves around your neck, pressing his palm down and squeezing lightly. Hard enough so that your breath is slightly laboured and your senses are heightened. You can hear him counting under his breath, still thrusting in and out of you ferociously, and when he hears your breathing becoming an issue, he releases his grip. With a few seconds allowance, you gulp down as much air as you can, swirling your head around to face him. You bat your eyelashes at him, tongue darting out from between your lips, and you kiss him. His lips captured by your own, tongue dancing in your mouth, keeping his dominance over you. He spanks you once, twice, squeezes your hip, his mouth still locked on yours, kissing you tantalisingly. His kisses make you crave even more of him, his hand squeezing around your neck again as his pad of one finger travels down from your hip, pinching the skin on your pubic bone, and he presses down firmly on your clit. His thrusts grow erratic, the pressure on your clit and your oesophagus making the fire in your stomach spark even further, your high so quickly approaching…

He pulls away to whisper in your ear, “Come on me, pretty baby. Good girl.” You moan louder at his coaxing words, the wave of your second orgasm crashing over you and drowning you in pleasure. You cry out his name, his lips moving from pressing feather light kisses behind your ear to your lips, swallowing your screams of his names as much as he can. Your fluttering and shuttering around him allows Charlie to chase his high too. He throbs inside you, dick pulsating until he comes too, his movements slowing as you ride your highs out together.

You crash onto your bed face first, Charlie pulling out of you before joining you, your bare legs entangling as his fingertips brush your face.

“So, that was…”

“Perfect.” he finishes for you, pressing his lips to your nose gently.

“Yes,” you agree wistfully, savouring the moment of just being wrapped in his warmth, “a dream come true.”

He virtually giggles, unable to keep his hands off you. “Cuddles for a bit, and then round two?”

-x-

The next morning comes far too soon for your liking, sunlight blaring through your drapes and your bare legs tangled with someone else’s underneath your sheets, a strong arm draped over your body, warmth pressed against you.

You scramble as much as you can, jolting your neck to check that it was Charlie, and that last night was reality, and you let out the heaviest held breath you could from all the relief crashing down on you like waves, until reality hits. 

“Shit. Charlie, Charlie, you need to sort the dragons! Fuck!”

It’s already late, but Charlie just groans and brings you closer into him. 

“Charles,” you grumble, nudging his arm away from your body as best as you can, but still, he doesn’t budge and you’re too small to move him. “If it’s any consolation, we’ll definitely be doing this again, so you can let me go...”

Clearly that’s the remedy. His eyes shoot open and he begins to press soft kisses across the harsh marks he left last night, his hand gently caressing your soft skin, making you squirm and giggle a little. 

Charlie being as gently dominant as he is (complete softie), refuses to let you do anything without him. That includes showering, dressing and hair. He massages any bruises or rough spots where he was a little too strong last night, whispering sweet nothings in your ear, kissing you whenever he can get to your lips.

“Godric, baby, I haven’t been able to get you out my mind for three months.” He tells you, arms twined around your waist while you primp. “You’re so perfect, so beautiful, such a good girl for me.” 

Only a four year age gap, yet you still manage to moan the word ‘Daddy’ when he squeezes your hips just right and suckles on that sweet spot.

“Fuck,” his voice is breathy and strained, clearly trying to hold back, “if you call me that again then we’ll miss the task.”

You chuckle at him but hug him nonetheless. Yeah the intimacy is great, but this just started, and he’s a bloody good hugger. Just being close to him is enough. You wear his jacket and twine your fingers with his own, your other hand resting in the crook of his elbow to feel him as close as possible. When you finally do leave the dorm and climb down the disabled stair case, you get the strangest assortment of looks you’ve ever received, everything from shock to fury to admiration to jealousy. Your cheeks heat and you turn shyly into Charlie again, only for your console to be broken by a high pitched screech, one you know to belong to Fred and George when they’re feigning shock. 

“Y/N! How could you!” Fred bursts out, pointing at you with a quivering hand, jaw slackened and face aghast. 

“And Charlie, sleeping with a student!” George finishes, the exact same expression written across his face.

You merely scowl at them, but they’ve bought even more attention than you’d had before, namely two girls who would be far from happy. 

“Really Charlie?” Ginny says incredulously, making fake gagging noises but snuggling into her brother's side nonetheless, clearly happy to see him. 

Hermione stands before you, giving you a horrible stern, disapproving look with pursed lips and folded arms. You offer a snide side eye in return, not so subtly removing your hair from your neck just to watch Hermione’s reaction, and it’s worth the audible gasps from those around you. Bruising purple marks scattered across your neck and the join of your shoulder, a red handprint on the column of your throat. Hermione looks like she’ll faint from pure disapproval, after all, you were supposed to be the innocent animal girl.

“Part of me is impressed-“ Fred announces, a sly smirk painted on his lips. 

“And the other part is disgusted.” George adds, scanning you up and down as though vying for another tell tale sign.

Charlie gives them what they want, spinning you into his body with his hands holding your waist beneath your jumper, letting it ride up a little to show more bruises. The twins look nothing but dazzled at the sight of your skin covered in splendid marks. They give their brother a subtle look of solidarity, exchanging no further words before leaving. Hermione remains speechless, but Ginny looks simultaneously confused and scarred.

“Sorry Gin,” Charlie says with a genuinely apologetic style, but turns away from her, leaning down to fleetingly capture your lips. 

“I guess I’m something to talk about even when I’m gone, but I promise babe, there’s more where that came from. Dinner, tonight, the edge of the forest before I leave.”

You grin to yourself, squeezing his hand as you make your way to breakfast. All that passes through your mind is how wonderful it is that you finally have Charlie back. Your Charlie.

[ibuki-loves-you]

(I apologize since this is going to be a lot)

My OC is Ren Suzuki, the Ultimate Fashion Designer. He’s a very sweet boy. Ya know how I said Gina was the love child of Makoto and Sonia? Well he’s probably the love child of Gonta and Mikan. A very very precious boy. He’s pure, innocent, a bit naive and gullible, but overall, a sweetheart. He’s very friendly to everyone, just wanting to…well, make friends! He takes his studies and schoolwork very seriously, never wanting to miss an opportunity to do his best and show his greatest work. He’s very confident and an optimistic hard-worker. He may be sweet and innocent, but he’s not shy. He enjoys being in a large crowd and talking to people about…literally anything! With an outgoing personality, warm demeanor, a compassionate heart, and an innocent mind I think the Ultimate boyfriend would fit him more than the Ultimate fashion designer

Apperance: Ren is a pretty tall guy, being 5’10, with a slim built. He has short, dark brown hair in a wavy combover and ocean blue eyes. He also wears thin round wire-framed glasses

Usual outfit: He wears a blue and white flannel button up with a black tie underneath an unbuttoned navy wool vest, black jeans with a white belt, and black leather ankle boots. He also has two silver studs on each ear and several platinum rings on his fingers

Ren grew up with his two parents and little sister. They have always lived in poverty and always worried about how to provide for the family. His parents were notorious ‘job-hoppers’ and were infamous for jumping around jobs in order to make as much money as possible. Unfortunately, word got around and their reputation got tainted. Almost no one wanted to hire them, which made finding a job and earning money more difficult. Ren realized that in order to support for his family, he had to pitch in and do whatever he could. He was very young at the time, so he couldn’t get a job himself. One day, he saw a broken sewing machine lying outside a neighbor’s lawn. There was sign near it that said “Partly good sewing machine. Take it” which Red happily did. From there, with a bit of tweaking and fixing, Ren finally repaired the machine and began to sew. Sew, sew, sew, til his heart’s desire. He began to make clothes for his little sister, himself, and his parents. He was relied on to create clothes and his family was always grateful for his help. He even made formal clothes for family events/reunions. Even professional interview clothes for his parents whenever they had new job interviews! Ren practically grew up with a passion to design and make clothes and it always stuck to him. Eventually, word got around, this time in a more positive light. He began to sell clothes and take commissions from neighbors. Not only did his family receive nice clothing, but the neighbors around them paid good money for Ren’s creation. His father even pleaded with Ren to apply to Hope Peak’s academy as the “Ultimate Fashion Designer” and use his talent to gain ultimate success in his own life. Ren, at first, declines saying he would rather stay and help his family, but they insisted and practically got down on their knees and begged him to apply. And, of course, they accepted Red with warm arms

His love interest is Mahiru, and finds her very comforting and sensible. He loves her ‘big sister’ attitude and developed feelings for her. Like all men, Mahiru was a bit hesitate about him, but she eventually warmed up. Hajime is a bit frustrated since it’s obvious she favors him over all the other boys on the island. Mahiru always denies it, but her blush whenever he’s around and talking to her just gives it away. Ren gets along well with her, but he has the innocence of Gonta here! He’s too clueless, and oblivious, and realize that she is in love with him, let alone, noticing that he fell in love with her as well. Hiyoko bullies him a lot more than anyone, probably even more than Mikan. But it’s only because she thinks that Ren is stealing Mahiru away from her. (Luckily???) he doesn’t really care or mind what she says. Hiyoko even goes as far as saying he’s gay, but Mahiru snaps at her when she says it. His best friends are probably Nagito, Hajime, Kazuichi, and Mikan. Hajime and Nagito because they enjoy his company. Kazuichi, really because he likes to tease Ren about Mahiru. But he always retaliates by teasing him about Sonia. But he doesn’t mean it. Ren is too pure to notice sexual innuendos or even pick up on what he implies. A conversation between him and Kazuichi would go something like this

Kazuichi: So, Ren! How far did you go with Mahiru? *smirks, winking*

Ren: *smiles sweetly* Oh, very far! We took a long walk together on the beach!

Kazuichi: Eh? No! I mean….did you see her…..body?

Ren: Of course! I see her body all the time! Otherwise, how else would I know what she looks like everyday?

Kazuichi: Man, I mean—

Ren: Speaking of, Mr. Kazuichi, you said you were going to hang out with Miss. Sonia today, no?

Kazuichi: Well….she had to cancel since she was busy a—

Ren: Ooooohhhhh. So I’m guessing you two didn’t go that far like me and Miss. Mahiru did. Right?

Kazuichi: *blushes beet red* DAMMIT!

He also gets along well with Mikan because she’s grateful that ‘he takes Hiyoko’s bullying’ and kinda ‘distracts’ Hiyoko from her. Because he ‘saved’ Mikan, she wanted to thank him by taking off her clothes, until Mahiru overheard their conversation, blushed, and rushed to stop her before Ren could speak. This is how the conversation went:

Mikan: Ummmm…..S-Suzuki-kun?

Ren: Huh? What is it, Miss. Mikan?

Mikan: I…..I just want to t-thank you for keeping H-Hiyoko away from m-me. Ever since you came, s-she’s been t-targeting me less……

Ren: *grins* Oh, it’s not a problem at all, Miss. Mikan! I am just trying to be a good friend to everyone!

Mikan: B-But I feel like I s-should thank you in s-some way…..

Ren: Huh? Miss. Mikan, you don’t need to do that. I don’t need any thanks at all other than being your friend—

Mikan: Let me take off my clothes. Will that make you happy? *fumbles with her apron*

Ren: H-Huh?! W-Why would I want your clot—

Mahiru: *beet red, running to them* *snatches Mikan’s hand* NO! No, no, no! That won’t be necessary, Mikan!

OKAY IM SIMPING-

YOU NEED TO MAKE A PICREW FOR HIM SOBS. ALSO HIS AND MAHIRU’S RELATIONSHIP?? AMAZING. IT’S SO CUTE!! HES ADORABLE AND JUST, AWEH!! - MOD IBUKI

[jovialyouthmusic]

A Lythikan Liaison

After the death of Jackson Walker, the young King’s Guardsman Bastien Lykel accompanies the Royal family to Lythikos in mid December. 

Word Count 3517

Absolutely NS*W and NO UNDER 18s 

Pairing; Bastein Lykel and OC

1 At a Loose End

Bastien Lykel stamped his feet to dislodge the packed snow from his boots as he entered the staff quarters at Lythikos Lodge. The Royal family was spending some time before Christmas in the duchy and taking young Olivia back to the Palace for the festivities. It meant half of the King’s guard, recently deprived of its popular captain, Jackson Walker, travelled with the King and his two sons. Bastien had been Jackson’s protege, and the new Captain had his own favourite, so his duties had diminished somewhat. Bianca, Drake and Savannah had remained at the Palace, as Bianca didn’t seem to have the will or desire to uproot the bereaved children from their home, despite the attractions of skating and building snowmen. To be truthful, it was dubious as to whether the family would stay in Cordonia, and Bastien thought it likely that they would return to Texas.

So he had leisure time that he barely knew how to spend, as his shift was over and Captain Parker had told him he wouldn’t be needed until the return journey. He wondered why he’d been brought along at all, knowing that his time would have been better spent supporting the Walker family. He suspected that Constantine wanted him to cut his ties with them in order to concentrate on his job. But if that was the case, Parker should be keeping him busy, not laying him off.

He sighed as he took his coat off and hung it where the snowflakes would evaporate in the warm air of the entrance hall. He went to the canteen and took a bowl of stew and a crust of warm bread to a table looking out over the frozen lake. A few of the Lodge staff were also eating their evening meal but left him alone, which suited him fine.  The Lythikans knew how to make good hearty food, he’d give them that. He disliked their spiced drinks and the nog turned his stomach, but the red wine was robust and strong and the beer was tolerable in moderation.

He refused the hard spiced cookies that were handed out from table to table by a dour serving woman who leered at him and winked broadly, asking if he wanted someone to warm his bed for him or if he preferred a hot water bottle. Her tone made it plain that such a device was only for weaklings and children. He glared at her and replied he was perfectly capable of making his own arrangements and made his way to the bar, where a few of his fellow guards sat drinking.  Lewis sat alone at a table at the edge of the room, able to see all that went on, as a good guard should. Bastien went over to join him, seeing his glass was almost empty.

‘Hey Bas, how are you holding up?’ Lewis asked. The two men had joined the Guard in the same intake, and had helped each other through some of the more arduous training exercises. Bastien had finished top of his year with Lewis a close second, and the two men had formed a strong bond.

‘I’d be just fine if Parker gave me more to do’ he grumbled ‘I’d far rather be working than told to go and relax.’ He eyed his companion’s glass of Skullcracker ale, making a resolution to have no more than two pints himself before he went back to his tiny room. He may not be working the next morning, but he could do without the crashing hangover Lythican alcohol gave him nonetheless.

‘Sleeping okay?’ Lewis knew that Bastien suffered flashbacks from the assassination attempt that had taken his mentor’s life. Bastien shrugged.

‘A little better’ he admitted ‘It’s too cold to get up and wander around so at least I stay in my bed until breakfast’

‘I wouldn’t admit the cold to the natives’ Lewis said in an undertone ‘They make them hardy out here. It’s only been a decade or so since they stopped putting newborns out in the snow to test how strong they are.’ Bastien snorted

‘It’s rumours like that which keep relations between Lythikos and the rest of Cordonia at an ‘us and them’ level.’ Lewis shook his head and drained his glass of ale.

‘Don’t look now, but those two over by the bar have been eyeing us up since you came in’ Lewis said with an almost imperceptible nod. As he had said, two women were looking in their direction, no subterfuge in their appraisal of the King’s men. They were both well built, one of them taller, close to Bastien’s six foot four inches and had pale skin and rich auburn hair.

‘I’ve already been offered a bed warmer, maybe I should take one of them up on it and get it over with’ Bastien mused.

‘You know what Lythicans are like, you’ll be in for a hard ride’ Lewis warned him. He handed his glass to Bastien, who stood up to go and order ale.

‘I’ve not much better to do’ he said ‘I should make the most of my down time’ He strode to the bar and put the glass down. The bartender raised his eyebrows at him.

‘Another pint of Skullcracker and whatever these two are having’ he nodded at the two women. The taller one held eye contact as she replied.

‘Are you sure you can handle that ale, King’s man?’ she asked ‘Most foreigners find just the one enough to send them to their knees’

‘Foreign? I’m Cordonian just like I presume you are’ he replied ‘Or are you claiming Lythikos is independent of the Crown?’ She frowned

‘Last I heard, Constantine insisted he’s King, and Duchess Lucretia hasn’t made a counter claim. Yet. And we call any non Lythican foreign, even if they come from the next village outside the duchy boundary.’ she replied acidly, but indicated to the barman that she’d accept Bastien’s offer. The other woman took two glasses of ale and went to join Lewis at his table.

‘So what part of Cordonia do you hail from, King’s man?’ she asked, as she took a healthy gulp of the ale that made Bastien hope he could match her without invoking the hangover.

‘My family comes from the capitol’ he said.

‘Oh yes, and what name do you go by?’

‘Lykel. Bastien Lykel’ She pursed her lips and nodded

‘A distinguished name. You might have a claim to the throne yourself if you can prove your lineage.’

‘Power doesn’t interest me’ he said, shaking his head ‘Attending banquets and balls and talking to trade delegates isn’t my idea of a fulfilling lifestyle’ He took a gulp of the thick ale. ‘I take it you’re Lythican?’

‘Naturally. The name’s Marcia. Marcia Wolfsbane’

‘That’s a fine surname too. Have you got links to the Nevrakis?’

‘Only in service, but then doesn’t most of the duchy?’

‘What do you do for a living?’ he asked curiously, and she laughed out loud, slapping her palm on the bar.

‘Can’t you tell? I’m in the same line of business as yourself. I’m part of the Lythican Guard. I saw you and your friend arrive with the Royal family’ She grinned at having bested him. Taking another swig from her glass, she nodded at him appraisingly, her gaze raking him from head to toe ‘You want to come back to my place and fuck?’ she asked. Bastien swiftly got over his chagrin at missing her occupation and gave her a slow smile. He liked directness, it left no room for misinterpretation and he was relieved that she wasn’t interested in drinking herself into a stupor. It had been a while since he’d had anything but brief encounters and wondered if this would be more than a one night stand. It wasn’t important, his job didn’t allow for romantic commitment although Lewis had a steady partner.

‘Sure, why not. Let me finish this first’ he replied.

------

Ten minutes later he found himself walking beside the tall woman along the narrow streets of the town that served the lodge and ski slopes. The Lythicans had found there was money to be made from winter sports in peace time and had spared no expense setting up resorts in the hills. Between the low log cabins the snow turned to slush underfoot and he was thankful for his good leather boots and thick socks that kept out the cold and wet.

‘You do realise that a couple of decades ago you wouldn’t have dared to be alone with the likes of me?’ she pointed out ‘Thank goodness for peacetime’

‘I like to think I’m a good judge of character’ he replied. ‘It’s my job to assess dangerous situations’ They trudged on for a while, passing other Lythicans walking to and fro in the darkening early evening.

‘Is it true you use those new tracking devices to keep tabs on each other?’ she asked curiously.

‘I wouldn’t tell you if we did.’ He said shortly. She turned down a dim side street which struck him as the sort of place that unwary travellers might be lured before being relieved of their valuables. Warily he scanned the shadows for lurkers as she strode on.

‘My home’s just down here, King’s man. I share the cabin with my friend back at the bar when we’re off the duty rotation. She’ll leave us alone for the night so you won’t have to worry about disturbing anyone.’

‘Does that depend on the willingness of my partner?’ he asked ‘He’s in a relationship, I’m not sure that he’ll bite’ Marcia shrugged as she stopped at one of the almost identical cabins and put her hand to the door. Bastien noted that it wasn’t locked, a sign either that there was no crime in the town, or that nobody would dare take anything from the occupants.

‘She’ll find someone or somewhere else’ The door swung open and she beckoned him in. ‘Boots off’ she ordered. Bastien bent to unfasten them and left them by the door next to hers and shrugged off his thick coat. The cabin was cool and smelled of spice and pine. She had already hung up her own coat and disappeared through a door off the lobby. He followed to find her kneeling by a wood burner setting a match to it. It took easily and the room was soon warming up.

‘You’ll take a hot drink?’ she asked

‘Only if it’s not spiced’ he replied ‘I prefer my drinks plain.’ She laughed

‘You’re missing out, King’s man’ she exclaimed ‘They warm the blood and heighten the senses’

‘No good if my stomach’s turned’ he said sourly ‘A nip of whiskey does the job very nicely’

‘In that case, hot chocolate with a dash of brandy. No spice’

‘That would be very welcome’ She disappeared, and he took stock of the room. He knew that the town was relatively new, extended to service the ski slopes, and the few traditional buildings were at the centre of the town, and here on the outskirts the buildings were less than five years old. The cabin walls were of dark logs that gave a sense of warmth, and the check curtains were thick and heavy. The furniture was mostly dark stained pine, modern but utilitarian. The couch and chairs were draped in woollen throws, the wooden floor augmented by thick rugs. Red was the predominant colour with accents of green and splashes of golden yellow. Shelves held books and trophies, and he went closer to examine the gleaming silver. Marcia re entered the room with two mugs. He turned to take his, nodding toward the trophies.

‘You have a lot of awards for markmanship’ he observed. She shrugged as he blew on his mug to cool the hot chocolate, plain as she had promised with no scent of spice and no cream, but an aroma of good brandy rose to his nostrils. He took a sip and felt it beginning to warm him from the inside.

‘I have plenty of time to practice, and the hunting in the woods is good’ She put her drink down and took the hem of her woollen jumper, pulling it up off and throwing it onto the couch, with a sigh that indicated that she was hot. She still wore a simple blouse and under vest and was well built, solid and muscular but with enough womanly curves to stir his desire. He knew Lythicans were hot blooded and very active in the bedroom with a casual attitude toward the number of partners they had at any one time, so he had come prepared with protection. Nonetheless, he had a question for her.

‘Are you currently in a relationship?’ he asked. She looked at him over her cup, her piercing blue eyes locking with his grey.

‘Only with my housemate. Are you?’

‘No, but I don’t want to cause any conflict’

‘You won’t’ she said ‘There’s nothing complicated about this unless you want it to be’

‘No, simple suits me just fine’ She put her cup down and moved closer.

‘You have milk on your moustache’ she said huskily, and leaned in to suck at his top lip. He groped to put his mug down on the table next to him, returning the kiss and putting his hand to the back of her neck.

‘Your hair is too long’ she said, reaching up to his forehead, but he gripped her wrist before she could touch it. She bit her lip ‘Someone could twist their fingers into it and control you’ Bastien realised with a flash why all the Lythican guard, male and female, had short cropped hair. He took a pride in his appearance, and his raven black hair was his weakness, always glossy and impeccably styled.

‘They’d have to get close enough to start with, and a good wrist lock would solve the problem even then’ He twisted her wrist to demonstrate, just until he saw her grimace, and let go. She knew her stuff, and it was refreshing to connect with someone so tuned in to his own profession. Truth be told, it was more of a lifestyle than a job. He hoped they could trade work experiences without compromising any confidential information.

But at that moment there was something more primal at hand, something basic and physical that stirred and aroused him. He was always holding himself back, keeping something in reserve, and he guessed that he could let go with her, be himself in a way he couldn’t with anyone else he’d encountered so far. She pushed him back and they stumbled to the couch. A split second decision allowed her to push him down and follow so that she was straddling him, triggering his arousal as her thighs clamped to his. Again she reached for his hair and he countered, pinning her wrists behind her back. Still she surged forward, her breasts pressing to his chest, her lips crashing to his. She lost her balance, allowing him to pivot so that she was the one sitting on the couch. He braced his knee between her thighs, letting go of her wrists. She put her palms to his chest, keeping him from leaning in to claim her lips.

‘One of us has to yield’ he panted.

‘The stronger the fight, the sweeter the surrender’ she growled, and bucked forward pushing him onto the floor. He landed on his back, the thick woollen rug cushioning his fall as she followed him down. He fought back, and they rolled around on the floor, neither giving in until they paused, both panting with exertion, Bastien on top but bracing his weight off her, elbows locked.

He straddled her, pinning her hips down and straightened up to take his sweater and shirt off, warmed through at last from their battle for supremacy. Her eyes blackened as she gazed at his broad muscled chest and flat abdomen scattered with dark hair. Again she bucked and threw him off, mirroring his effort by pinning him to the floor and stripping to the waist before falling on him and delivering scorching kisses and little nips along his neck to his shoulder. Her breasts were small and firm despite her stature, her belly soft but flat, and he was hard between her thighs. They rolled around the floor managing somehow to assist each other to strip naked and end up side by side, her thigh thrown over his hip, breathing hard. She reached down to judge his size with fingers and palm, and a slow smile spread across her face.

‘You are big in every way, Bastien Lykel.’ she murmured appreciatively. ‘I knew there was something about you worth pursuing’ Despite the woollen rugs and the heat of the wood burner the floor was hard and cold and he was grateful as she rose and pulled him to his feet, guiding him with purposeful stride to her bedroom. It was cool but she threw back the bedclothes to drag him on top of her, sinking into the firm mattress and spreading her thighs for him. She rose to sink her teeth into his shoulder and clawed at his back. With an inhuman effort he drew back from her, not quite lost yet.

‘I have – we need protection’ he panted.

‘In the bedside drawer’ she groaned ‘Hurry, I’ve not bedded a man for months’ He fumbled in the drawer and found a foil packet, tearing it open and hoping it was large enough for his girth. He was in luck, and rolled the rubber sheath over his length without discomfort. She pushed him over onto his back and mounted him like an animal, pressing her sex to him before guiding him where she needed him and he placed his hands on her hips, trusting that she knew what she was letting herself in for. She groaned as she started to lower herself onto him, alarmingly tight, but she was wet and the noises she made assured him that pain and pleasure were inseparable for her.

Soon she sat flush to him and rolled her hips, rising up above him and throwing her head back with a guttural cry before leaning forward to bury her face in his between his neck and shoulder, sucking and biting. What they did in that bed bordered on fighting as they wrestled for dominance, rolling over, tangling in the bedclothes, settling into a fierce steady rhythm that challenged the strength of the bedframe. Bastien realised that she could take anything he gave her, and savagely thrust into her willing flesh, pinning her hands above her head until she arched her back and gave out a loud ululating cry. He felt her pulse around him, and with a roar he followed her over the edge until they lay spent and panting, and he rolled off her to the side.

‘Are you sure you’re not from Lythikos?’ she panted as he cleaned himself up.

‘I may have some ancestors somewhere along the line’ he remarked. He went to the bedroom door.

‘You can stay the night if you like’ she said from the tangle of bedclothes. He paused in thought. He could remember his way back to his billet but was reluctant to dress and go out into the cold.

‘That’s generous of you. I need to get my clothes and fold them’ When he returned, she had straightened the blankets and thrown them back for him, a naked leg uncovered. He got in and lay on his back. He wasn’t a cuddler and the bed was wide. She seemed to understand, and curled into herself on her side of the bed.

‘When are you on duty?’ she asked

‘Not until we leave’ he replied ‘My superior seems to think I need down time, but I’d rather be busy’

‘I heard about Walker’ she replied, and he gritted his teeth.

‘I was there’ he said shortly, feeling himself tense at the memory.

‘He sounded like a good man. I never met him’

‘And you never will’ he turned his back to her.

‘I’m sorry for your loss’ she said quietly. ‘That was insensitive of me.’ He snorted, biting back resentful words. He felt her hand on his shoulder. ‘I’m off duty tomorrow as well. If you like, you could come hunting with me’ Her hand fell away. ‘If you look outside the back you’ll see the green and the communal cookfire. All the cabins that back onto it contribute – either with meat or vegetables, or by cooking. I need to make my donation’

‘I’ll think about it’ He was tired – tired of the flashbacks, tired of grieving, tired of worrying about the Walker family, and now from the physical exertion he had just undergone. He felt the comfortable glow of his release, and that and the brandy lured him closer to the edge of sleep. He felt his eyelids grow heavy. His companion was silent, and he surrendered to the dark comfort of slumber.

@sirbeepsalot @stopforamoment @drakesensworld @katedrakeohd​ @texaskitten30​ @be-still-my-aching-heart @hopefulmoonobject @dcbbw @classylady1234 @rainbowsinthestorm @kimmiedoo5 @bascmve01  @ibldw-main @addictedtodrakefanfic @trappedinfandoms @fluffyfirewhiskey​ @kingliam2019 @bobasheebaby​ @marshmallowsaremyfavorite​

[dalamjisung]

read my mind ✿ park jinyoung

word count:6973

genre: hospital!au, fluff

pairing: psychiatrist!jinyoung x resident!reader

description: you work as a barista at night and as a psychiatry resident during the day, what happens when those two lives start to mix?

Fridays are the busiest nights; and consequently, the worst nights. Working at a bar isn’t exactly what you want to do for the rest of your life, but it pays the bills and the tips are too good to just give up on– medical school isn’t cheap, and neither are the loan interests you will have to pay for the next twenty years of your life. You didn’t have time to complain about your job; you had to do it and that’s it.

“Hey!” Someone scream as you continue to gather used cups from the counter. “Another double!”

“Coming right up!” You shout, looking at the older man waving his empty cup. “Be right there.”

“Thank you,” He smiles as you pour his drink, and your skin crawls. With the job came the instinctive reaction to sleazy man, the one that makes the hair on your arm stand, signaling the danger and discomfort to come. “Now, what is a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this?”

“Working,” You offer him a smile, knowing it will give you points for a good tip. “Excuse me.”

In a bar, there are many different types of people. Desperate people, sad people, happy people, anxious people; it seems that once an emotion overrides all the others, the bar is the place people go to. A bar is a place for celebration, for laughter and good memories; but it can also be a place for misery, for crying and forgetting. It was only a matter of time until you learned how to read people– their desires, their thoughts, their next moves,– eyes intent on the clients, honing the ability to the point that a person didn’t even have to say anything, you just know what they want. Just like how you know this man only wants to flirt, looking for a boost to his ego from a young woman. He wants to feel empowered by all the wrong reasons and you smirk, amused by his antics. However, men like this one don’t easily let go, offended by the realization that you actually have to work and don’t have time for them; therefore, they resort to physical strength.

“Stay for a little bit,” He murmurs in your ear, brining you close by grasping your arm. “I could use the company.”

“Sir, I have other clients to tend to,” The smile on your face contrasts the harsh tone of your voice. “So if you could let me go, that would be great.”

And just like that, you lost your tips. 

“Don’t be like that,” He tries again, and in his eyes you see the look you hate the most: anger. “I’m being nice, here.”

This is usually the time you call your manager with a very smooth and secure shout of his name, but it seems like today is your lucky day and someone wants more tequila shots. 

“I have to go,” You pull your arm but he doesn’t bulge. “Sir, please, I have to do my job–“

“Can you let her go, already?” A man, sitting to the right of your current situation speaks, loud and clear, sounding as fed up as you. “Even I heard her, man… she has shit to do.”

“Mind your own business,” The guy holding your arms spits and you chuckle humorlessly, taking a chance with the sudden distraction and successfully pulling your arm from his grabby hands. You know that it will leave a bruise but you couldn’t care less. 

“Now I will,” Your helper rolls his eyes and looks at you. His hand instinctively move to his empty cup and you are on it before he even opens his mouth, pouring whiskey enough to last him a while. His eyes are wide in surprise and he even cracks a small smile. “You didn’t have to, I was just–“

“You wanted more, so I gave you more,” You shrug, going back to your work. 

“How’d you know?” He asks, cynical of you. “You read my mind or something?”

“Call it an educated guess,” You say, and keep moving, knowing that if you stop, tiredness will wash over you like a tsunami. “I’ll add it to your tab.”

The night ends seamlessly; nothing much happening after that one incident. It’s when you’re cleaning the counter alongside Jisung, your coworker, that it hits you. You never thanked him for his help. But then again, you think, I never asked for it. 

“Y/N,” Jisung calls from where he is putting the cups away. “I think this is for you.”

“Throw it away,” You say not even looking at it. “I’m not interested.”

“Tsk, still trying to die alone?” Jisung laughs, and you laugh with him, knowing that he means well. “You are too beautiful to be alone, Y/N.”

“And you are too beautiful for that boyfriend of yours, but I don’t see you two breaking up anytime soon,” You tease, poking him on your way to the back. “Is he coming to get you?”

“Yeah,” Jisung shouts. “Want a ride?”

“Please,” You answer, relieved that you won’t have to wait for the bus. “I have a big day tomorrow.”

“Nervous?” Jisung asks when you meet him outside, the smoke of the cigarette coming out of his mouth in a swift puff. “Changing hospitals in the end of residency is always hard…”

“I’ll be fine,” You smile tightly. “I had to leave, and you know that…”

“But people don’t,” Jisung looks at you carefully. “I’m just worried about you.”

“It’s going to be okay,” You promise as his boyfriend’s car pulls up. “I’m going to a better hospital with a better paycheck; I’m as good as it gets.”

“Aish, do you only think about money?” He chastises you, frowning. 

“Yes,” You smile cheekily, and his boyfriend laughs. “Until I pay all of my loans, money is the only thing I’ll think about.”

“This girl…” Jisung mumbles, moving to grab Chaewon’s hand. You look at them fondly, knowing that no matter how many times you tell these two that you are fine by yourself and that you don’t want to waste time and energy on a relationship, the truth finds you and, from time to time, you catch yourself wondering how good it would be if you had someone to pick you up from work, too. 

                                                                      ————————

“Hello, I’m Y/N Y/L/N,” You bow with a wide smile, trying to hide the nervousness that comes with a situation like this. “I’m a fourth year resident, nice to meet you all.”

“Fourth year?” Someone whispers and you pretend you don’t hear them. “Isn’t that a bit late to be switching hospitals?”

“It’s good to have you, Dr. Y/N,” One of the nurses step forward, shaking your hand. “We are happy you’re here. I’m Jimin, or Nurse Park, whichever you prefer.”

“Yeah,” A girl steps forward. “It’s nice to meet you, I’m Wheein.”

“Hi,” You wave shyly, glad that at least someone is talking to you. “Are you also a fourth year?”

She nods. “Yeah, but I’m with the Pediatrics department.”

“Ah, that sounds like fun,” You chuckle and she laughs with you. “I’m Psychiatry.”

After you say that, it feels like the words could echo in the silent room. 

“W-What? Did I say something wrong?” You whisper with wide eyes, looking at your new friends. Jimin shakes his head and scoffs at his peers.

“Not at all,” He rolls his eyes. “The doctors are just being stupid.”

“It’s just shocking to see such a cheerful person like you working in such a sad place,” One of the doctors says, laughing as his friends nod. “It’s a hard job, but someone has to do it, isn’t that right?”

“Well, of course, Dr… Ahn,” You squint at his jacket, carefully reading his name. “Let me guess; surgeon?”

“Oh!” He exclaims, eyebrows going high. “How’d you know?”

“The hands,” You smile, pointing at his hands. “You’re holding your cup in a way that your hand won’t get burned with the hot coffee…”

“Wow,” He elbows his friend. “Consider me impressed.”

“What makes the Psychiatry ward so sad, Doctor?” 

Your smile is gone, voice cold and cutting. Anyone could see your change in demeanor; eyes suddenly sharp, chest puffed, and chin high. 

“Well, the–“

“Careful there Doctor,” You whisper close to him. “If you say ‘people,’ what will your colleagues think?”

He clears his throat, looking angry and confused. “It’s not–“

“Because if I can recall,” You interrupt him once again, going back to your smiley self. “The surgery room isn’t all that happy, with all the people desperately hanging onto their lives, trusting people like… you.”

“I don’t–“

“Don’t look down on people that can’t be fixed with surgery,” You breath, bowing to him. “I only ask that of you.”

You hear a mumble with some work you dare not to repeat and leave, a stampede of feet following him suit. 

“That,” Wheein point at the leaving hoard of white jackets. “Was fucking cool.”

“I’m not a fan of people like him,” You say, suddenly blushing. 

“And neither is our boss,” Jimin says throwing his arms around your shoulder. “Wait until you meet him.”

And you meet him. Around two hours later, after you are done with rounds and new patients’ admissions. When you see him, however, your heart stops, because that man does not look happy. 

“Who are you?” He asks, not even looking up from his clipboard. 

“I’m your new resident,” You bow. “Y/N Y/L/N.” “What year?”

“Fourth,” You say, feeling embarrassed for the first time.

“Fourth?” And he finally looks up. You don’t think he recognizes you, and you are not dumb enough to ask, choosing to nod instead. “Why?”

“Because I went through the first three already?” You try to joke but it clearly doesn’t work. “Sorry, bad joke. I just thought a change would be… good.”

“Good?” He frowns and his eyes scan you. “Did you get in trouble in the last hospital?” 

You freeze. 

“No,” You shake your head, looking down at your feet. As long as he didn’t recognize you, you’d be okay. 

“If you are lying, I have ways to find out,” He says, and although his voice is soft, his words are harsh. 

“Then please do,” When you finally gather the courage to look at his piercing eyes, you notice how they don’t look as intimidating as his attitude. They are understanding, and you are confused. “I’m here to do my best, Dr. Park.”

“That’s all I ask, then,” He nods. “Have you done rounds?”

“Yes, Doctor,” And you are back in your comfort zone, doing what you do best. Taking care of people that need you. “I also admitted two new patients and they are waiting for your assessment.”

“How long until you are a fellow?” He suddenly asks, reading the information in the chart. His eyes are quick and he scans everything with such precision that leaves you amazed. 

“Three more months, Doctor,” You know this won’t help your case, but you also know you can’t lie to your boss. 

“Hm,” He hums, and gives you the okay on the documents. “You’ve done a better job on these two files than most my fellows do. Keep it going.”

You blink, suddenly whiplashed. Was that a compliment?

“I give credit when credit’s due, Dr. Y/N,” He sighs, chuckling a little and you feel your whole body melt under that voice. “Don’t look so surprised.”

“Yes, Doctor, thank you,” You are quick on your feet and back with Jimin, discussing procedures.

“Ah,” Dr. Park calls again. “Y/N?”

Your body tenses, and you think, shit, he recognized me. This is it. He can fire me if he wants and–

“Those two patients you admitted,” He continues, hand on his pockets, looking so flawlessly cool.

“What about them?” You ask, suspicious of his easy going attitude.

“They are yours.”

And he leaves. 

“Did he jus–“

“Oh wow,” Jimin’s eyes are wide, hands suddenly forgetting what they were doing. “Congrats, Y/N.”

“Is this normal?” You sigh. “He’s giving me more headaches than I’ve ever had in my life, and we talked for literally fifteen minutes.”

“Oh, yeah,” Jimin laughs. “That’s Doctor Park Jinyoung. He loves his job and he is not really easy on people, but once you get on his good side, it’s all good.”

“Are you on his good side?” You ask, jokingly poking him in the waist.

“Most definitely,” Jimin says. “He told me once I was the nurse he trusted the most… it makes me sad that he actually has to trust people to do his job. We are medical practitioners, you know.”

“Has any incident happened before?” You frown.

“Yeah,” His voice sounds strained and tired. “One time he caught a nurse referring to patients as “crazy” and he fired her on the spot. Two residents and a fellow committed the same mistake… don’t misunderstand this, they were good doctors, but Dr. Park Jinyoung doesn’t put up with people that invalidates or disrespect the patients.”

“I wouldn’t either…” You whisper, eyes finding the tall man in the hallway, talking with a wondering patient. She is old and looks lost, but he smiles– the most wonderful and peaceful smile,– and guides her back to her room. When he laughs, his cheeks puff and you can’t help but breath out in relief. Maybe this won’t be so bad, after all.

                                                                     ————————

“Sorry I’m late!” You call out from the back, already putting on your apron and moving to the front of the bar. “Things got a little hectic in the hospital.”

“Everything alright?” Jisung asks, and his eyes take you in; tired, messy, but overall happy. 

“All good,” You smile. “I got it over here. Thanks for covering for me.”

“No problem,” He offers you a pat on the back and goes back inside. “Shout if you need anything.”

You just nod, already pouring a few regulars their orders. Cranberry vodka, Long Island Ice Tea, Tequila and lime. Whiskey. 

“I knew it was you.”

You look up, and to your surprise, it’s Doctor Ahn. His tie is a little loose and he looks drunk enough to make a dumb mistake. 

“Ms. Smart Mouth,” He laughs humorlessly. “Guess you’re not all that high and mighty now, are you?”

“How can I help you, Sir?” You smile, going over the basic script. 

“Oh, gonna pretend you don’t know me?” He snarls and leans forward, almost tipping his drink over. “Do you know how much trouble you got me in with Dr. Park Jinyoung?”

Dr. Park?, you think, but say nothing, maintaining your ground even if all of your body was screaming to run away. 

“He heard about our interaction,” Dr. Ahn grabs the front of your t-shirt and you sigh, knowing that Jisung would show up anytime now. “And threatened to take me to the board. On what ground? Huh? You tell me, since you’re so smart, Dr. Y/N, on what grounds that motherfucker can take me to the board of the hospital?”

“Disrespectful behavior, prejudice against the ill, and now, to top it all, harassment of a coworker.”

Jinyoung stood behind Dr. Ahn, arms crossed over his chest, and eyes shinning a weird glint– something like rage working inside him. 

“Let go of my resident, Hanseok,” Jinyoung mumbles, and the sheer power of his words are enough to make himself heard over the loud music. “Or I’ll make sure those hands can never operate again.”

You are free just in time to hold Jisung back, putting your arm in front of his chest. He looks at you and you just shake your head, asking him to leave it. 

“Doctors,” You call out, trained smile on your face and voice chirpy. “Why don’t we just all take a breather and have a drink? On the house.”

“Wha–“ Dr. Ahn starts to say something but Dr. Park passes by, hitting him with his shoulder, and sits on a stool. 

“Whiskey, please,” He says, and this is more like the man you’ve met. Voice calm and soft, even offering you a small smile. 

“Coming right up!” To say you’re relieved is an understatement. You weren’t looking for trouble, specially with your superiors. 

“Can you guess if I want ice or not?” Dr. Park chuckles and looks at you, and something changes. His eyes, the glint you saw before is gone, and there’s a new light in them, something more relaxed and oh so endearing. 

You offer him a smile. “That goes beyond my abilities, Dr. Pa–“

“Jinyoung,” He clarifies, blushing a little. “We’re outside of the hospital, so just call me Jinyoung, will you?”

“Sure thing, Jinyoung,” You giggle, continuing to clean the cups. “Anything you need, let me know. It’s on the house.”

“This is all wrong,” He says, looking bothered. “I should be the one buying you drinks.”

“W-why?” You stutter. 

“As your sunbae, I should be the one buying my residents drinks,” He smiles and there they are, the cheeks. You control the urge to pinch them and smile. 

“I’ll take you up on that some other time, sunbae,” You laugh, already moving to fill up someone else’s cup. “I have work to do.”

“What time does your shift end?”

“Late,” You sigh, tired just from thinking about it. “But don’t worry! I’ll be at the hospital on time and ready for work!”

“That’s not what I was worried about,” He says, downing his drink and gets up. “But that’s good to hear. Have a goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Jinyoung.” 

                                                                     ————————

“Dr. Y/N,” Someone calls. “Patient on room two needs you!”

“Dr. Y/N, there are two emergency patients waiting!”

“Dr. Y/N, they are asking for your help in the Neuropsychology department!”

“Dr. Y/N–“

“Oh my god,” You groan, struggling to maintain your false composure; it’s now been two months since you first started at the hospital and you still wondered where were the other doctors. “Where are the other residents?”

“Dr. Yoon is having breakfast with a few fellows and Dr. Han is late,” Jimin giving you more folders. “You’re the only one here, at the moment.”

“For fuck’s sake, I can’t take care of a whole wing by myself, Jimin,” You breath out, suddenly having a hard time to concentrate. 

“Hey, breath, Y/N, just breath,” He instructs, patting your back. “I’ve already called Dr. Park, he’ll be here as soon as possible, but for now, you need to do this.”

You close your eyes, pulling your hair back and retying it in a high ponytail. Just the mention of his name gives you energy; you know you need to do good by him. 

“Okay, let’s go,” You put on your jacket and you start all over again, assigning nurses to each case as they demanded it. “Jimin, go to the Neuro department and see what they want, I’m sure Dr. Park’s opinion would be better than mine, so ask if they can wait until he’s here. Nurse Baek and Nurse Kyung, go to the emergency patients for an initial assessment and get back to me; I’m going to room 2.”

Y/N, those two patients you admitted, Jinyoung’s voice ring in your head. They are yours.

“Ms. Lee?” You smile, entering the room where the sweet old lady from before laid. “I’m your doctor, Dr. Y/N…”

“It’s nice to meet you, Doctor Y/N,” She laughs and you smile. She might not remember you, but the light in her eyes shine like no other. 

“It’s nice to meet you too, Ms. Lee,” You shake her hand carefully. “Do you know where you are?”

“The hospital?” She asks. “I don’t remember coming here…”

“Yes, ma’am,” You nod. “You were admitted yesterday… but you don’t have to worry, though; we’ll take really goo care of you.”

“Oh I’m sure of that,” Her hand holds yours. “Can you tell me why I’m here, though? I don’t remember…”

Taking a deep breath, you started to explain her condition, going over the medical details in the simplest terms you could, giving her time to process and ask questions. Ms. Lee had suffered from a brain injury that lead her to have long term memory loss, resetting her brain every few hours, which would lead to issues such as taking care of herself and others. Her daughter admitted her to the hospital in hopes that she could be properly taken care of, and that’s what you’d do. She cries a little bit, but is pretty understanding of her situation over all. 

“Will you come back later, Dr. Y/N?” She sniffles, and you chuckle. 

“Of course, Ms. Lee,” You wink. “I have to visit my favorite patient at least twice a day.”

“I hope I’ll remember you later,” She says and your heart clenches. “If I don’t, it’s been a pleasure, Doctor.”

You just smile, not trusting yourself to speak at that moment. This was the hard part of the job; the feelings, the defeat, the acceptance. All doctors, surgeons or not, go through the same process of training, where you have to deliver bad news to the ones responsible for the patient… and that was the hardest part for you. Always’ been. 

“Dr. Y/N, good morning,” Jinyoung calls, jogging past you to his office. Surprised with his sudden appearance, you take him in, and his jeans and t-shirt make you smile. 

“Good morning, Doctor Park,” You mumble, even though you know he won’t hear you. 

This has been the routine so far; you get in for the early morning shifts, on the nights you don’t have to stay for the overnight shift and miss work, with barely four hours of sleep, and no one is there besides Jimin. You take care of emergency patients and the patients in the rooms assigned to you. Then, when the clock hits an acceptable hour, Dr. Park shows up, wishing you a ‘good morning’ and running to his office, where he will change and look like the professionally stern doctor she usually does. Once your shift is over, you go to work at the bar, where you will pour greasy men their drink until Jinyoung shows up, and you two will talk for the couple hours he usually stays, then he leaves and you have to get back to your real life. And then repeat. Every night, though, Jinyoung brings you coffee; lattes, fast whites, americanos– always something to make your night better. And that’s how it happened, you realize; the slow growth of your feelings for him, one coffee at a time.

Today however, once Dr. Park finally takes over the ward, and your shift is over, and you go to your job where Jisung is waiting for you with redbull and a sandwich, you feel yourself slipping. You move slower than usual and some clients even have to call you twice before you can actually process it.

“What’s going on with you?” Jisung asks as he decided to help you with the counter. 

“Nothing,” You shake your head, hoping it would wake you up. “I think I’m just a little tired.”

“A little?!” He laughs. “You’ve been overworked for years now. A little is underestimating it.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say–“

“Y/N Y/L/N.”

You look to the group in front of you and now you feel like you could actually pass out.

“Dr. Kim,” You breath out, eyes wide in surprise. “W-what are you d-doing here?”

Not sure if Jisung heard you, your glance at him and he nods– he’s keeping an eye on you. 

“So this is what you’re doing now?” Dr. Kim lets out a humorless laugh. “As expected of someone like you.”

Stay calm, you think to yourself, taking a deep breath. Stay calm, Y/N, and do your job. 

“What can I help you with today?” And smile.

He laughs again and you don’t think you could ever forget this sound; it haunts you at night when you try to sleep and it follows you during the day, sneaking on your when you’re distracted. The only way to push it away is to focus on something else– like your patients. 

“Oh, so now you want to help me?” He murmurs and leans forward and you’re scared.

For the first time since you started this job, you are terrified. 

“Whiskey.” 

Your hand flies to the bottle instantly, your body reacting on its own and moving to the new man sitting next to Dr. Kim. You feel his eyes on you, heavy on your back as you serve the costumer, unable to look up from your feet. 

“Thanks, Y/N.” 

Jinyoung. 

“Ah,” Now you’re looking at him, begging him with your eyes to stop. “If it isn’t Kim Jungseok…”

“Park Jinyoung,” Dr. Kim smiles and you just want to sit down and cry; for two months, ever since you left your old hospital, all you’ve been wanting to do is cry. “How do you know my old resident?”

At this Jisung is right next to you, pushing you behind him. 

“Because she’s my new resident,” Jinyoung point at you and takes a sip form his cup. “Best one I’ve ever had, to be honest.”

“Oh yeah, Y/N was the best at her job,” Dr. Kim looks at you and winks.

“Funny you say that,” Jinyoung chuckles and a weird sense of deja-vu hits you. You’ve seen that look in his face before, when he fired one of the fellows for inappropriate behavior towards a few of the nurses. From what you knew, he kept hitting on them and intimating them to go on dates. “Why’d you fire her?”

This is when you know you need to intervene.

“Dr. Park, I don’t–“

“She chose to leave,” Dr. Kim shrugs. “Can’t force her to stay, can I?”

Jinyoung laughs and finishes his drink. All the while, alarms are sounding in your head as your current boss turns to face your old boss. Everything in Park Jinyoung screamed powerful at that moment and you know that something big is about to happen.

“No, but apparently you can force her to do other things, right?”

Jisung is quick to pull you to the back as soon as the first punch is thrown. You scream Jinyoung’s name but he is too busy to look and the door closes, leaving just you, shaking and crying, and Jisung, who’s on the phone with the front door bouncers. As soon as they give you the okay, you are running to the front, looking for the man you see everyday, hoping to see him just one more time before tomorrow. 

“No,” You mumble through your tears, banging your fist on the counter. “No no no, fuck no!”

“That was your old boss,” Jisung breaths out, looking at you. “And what Jinyoung said–“

“I have no fucking clue how–“

“Your file,” Jinyoung says, coming out of the bathroom with a wet napkin to his mouth. “Did you really think I’d never find out?”

“I didn’t–“ You stop, trying to think back to what you wrote on your file. “I didn’t say anything about it on my file.”

“You wrote issues with the staff, the rest I assumed,” Jinyoung sighs, sitting back on the stools, flinching a bit. “Harassment is not something I take lightly, Y/N.”

“Assumed?!” You shriek. “How the fuck–“

“You forget that’s my job,” And he looks at you like no one did before– like you are there, shinning brighter than the lights; like you are speaking louder than the music, and presence bigger than the room. He looks at you as if you are the only one present and you feel your heart do a weird thing. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why would I?” You ask. “If people at the hospital knew, I’d be the talk of the department. I’d be labeled as either he girl that couldn’t just put up with it, or the girl that put up with it for too long… so I left before it got worse.”

“I didn’t say people,” He seethes, and you’ve never seen him look so devastated before. Not when Ms. Lee had one of her episodes, not when he was called in to evaluate the mental condition of an inmate, not when you were swarming with emergency patients. Never. “I said me. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I-I don’t know…” You whisper, drying the few tears that still dared to fall and turning to the freezer to get a couple of drinks. “I just didn’t.”

“Do you not trust me?”

“Jinyoung!” You chastise, turning to face him with now two beers. The bar had been closed a little early thanks to the fight and Jisung was nowhere to be seen. It was just the two of you now, and you sit next to him. “Why would you say that?”

He shrugs. “I’m the one responsible for you now,” He sighs, turning to you. “And how can I take care of you if you won’t let me?”

“I’m your employee,” You roll your eyes. “Not your girlfriend.”

“…yeah,” Jinyoung takes a sip. “Sure.”

Something shifts, as you sit there, alone with Jinyoung, drinking beer, after he had just been punched because of you. His words, slow and sad, hit you like a ton of bricks. His eyes, looking down at his hands, make their way to you. And now you know. Now you are sure. 

“Jinyoung,” You breath out, sounding as surprised as you are sure you look. “Do you like me?”

His head hangs low, and he chuckles. “Read my mind again, did you?”

“I–“

“Don’t,” He asks, eyes shinning with strength. “We’re old enough to not have to explain.”

“I work,” You blurt out, ignoring him completely. “Two jobs; the hospital and here. Not because I like, though… here, I mean. I don’t work here because I like it, but the tips are good and I need money.”

Jinyoung just nods. 

“I need to pay my school loans,” Words keep coming out of your mouth and you are not sure why. You’ve never felt the need to explain yourself before, but with Jinyoung everything is just different. “I need to pay them as soon as possible because I don’t want this huge debt interfering with my career. I’m sure I’ll be able to do it in a few years, if I manage to get my fellow in this hospital. All the time I don’t spent with you and Jimin, I’m here. I’m constantly tired, hungry, stressed, and overworked. I smile to men that are disgusting because I can’t tell them fuck themselves without losing my job and I don’t have anything to look forward to, anymore. I like you, too. You are caring, and kind, and an incredible doctor. But why do you like me? I’m not the best at what I do, but I’m not the worst. I’m not particularly skilled, or impressive, or–“

“Somedays,” Jinyoung interrupts your rambling, hand moving to cover yours, resting in the counter. “I have no faith left in humanity. The things I’ve seen, the things I’ve done… I’m not sure exactly why, but somedays I just don’t think there is anything good out there. And then I see you. In all my years of working in that hospital, I’ve never seen anyone like you. You work diligently, without skipping a day, although you’ve not slept for nights, and you do what your told, but you follow your gut. You know right and wrong and, better yet, you know people. You have this freaky ability to read body language and the patients love you, because they know you know what they need and what they want. That is what makes you an incredible doctor.”

You just look at him.

“You say you’re not particularly skilled,” He laugh. “That’s bullshit, Y/N. You are one of the best doctors I’ve seen. Hell, you are one of the best people I’ve met. I literally took a punch for you, because you are so worth it.”

“Jinyoung–“

“Don’t do that again,” He asks, stroking his thumb on the palm of your hand. “Tell me things. I want to know them, so I can help you. I know right now seems hard, but you will get through this. I know you will."

“How are you so sure?” You whisper, entranced by this man.

“Because I did,” He smiles. “Five years ago, I worked this same job, at this same place. And I did it; I payed all of my loans back, turned into a pretty good doctor, and dare I say, met you. Things seem pretty fine to me.”

“Oh my god, you are so cringey,” You groan, laughing with him. “Who knew? Intimidating Dr. Park is actually the softest boy.”

“Just for you,” He says and you laugh even harder. “Now why don’t I take you home? You can hopefully get a full eight-hour-sleep if we leave now.”

The ride to your house is silent and comfortable. But that’s all that is– a ride. Jinyoung drops you home, and, after declining your offer for coffee, drives away. 

You go to bed confused and lost. 

He did say he liked me, right?

                                                                     ————————

“And he left?!” Wheein shouts, banging her fists on the table. “Wah, that man really is heartless…”

“Yah,” You frown. “Don’t say that.”

“Oh, sorry, didn’t mean to offed your boyfriend,” Wheein laughs and you chuckle with her, eating your lunch in silence. 

Jimin looks at you with a little smile, but says nothing, so you nod at him. “You are awfully quiet today.”

“Ah, am I?” He chuckles. “Didn’t notice…”

Wheein elbows you and you look at her, suspicious of your friend. “Spill it, Park.”

“Spill what?” He makes an innocent face but he can’t fool you. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” You ask, resting your face on your hands.

“Like I’m kidding something,” He mumbles and looks to the side.

“Ah!” You shout, pointing at his eyes. “Why’d you look away? What are you hiding?”

“I really hate you and your mind reading abilities,” He groans and hides his face in his arms. “I can’t say.”

“Why not?” You whine, looking at Wheein as she laughs. “We have no secrets among us!”

“Yes we do,” Jimin scoffs. “And this one I really can’t tell.”

“Come on, Jimin-ah,” Wheein begs, curious as well. “Tells us.”

“Nope,” He says and gets up. “Gotta blast.”

“Does this has anything to do with Jinyoung?” You ask, and he flinches a little before running away.

“What was that?” Wheein asks pointing at your friend. “He’s the worst at keeping secrets!”

You shrug and go back to work, waving goodbye as she runs after Dr. Kim Yugyeom with some files that need his signature. Jimin is at his station but he refuses to talk to you, certainly afraid that he will spill the beans. The day goes by slowly like this, and right before you leave, you remember a few papers that need Dr. Park’s signature. 

“Jimin,” You call, running to the front desk. “Where is Dr. Park? I need his–“

“Not here,” He says quickly and leaves. “Goodbye, have a goodnight!”

“So fucking weird,” You mumble watching him speed walk to Ms. Lee’s room. 

You leave the papers in the front desk with a post-it note and decide to call it for the day, thankful that you are out on time and that you won’t be late for your shift at the bar. You are on the elevator when you pull your phone, ready to text Jisung but surprised to see that he texted you first.

I won’t be at work today. Just you ;)

You swear you almost have a heart attack. 

What the fuck do you mean it’s just me? Jisung, I can’t take care of the bar by myself!

We’re not opening tonight, chill. I just need you to check inventory and you’re done. 

Why can’t he do that? You sigh, knowing that you can get that done within the hour and then go home and rest. 

Okay.

You get to the bar already exhausted and you drop your bag in the door, taking a second to breath. You admit, you loved this place. The wooden tables and counter, the atmosphere, the freedom. You’ll miss it when it’s gone. You feel so natural in there, not having to hide anything from anyone. You feel comfortable, even though sometimes you have some trouble. 

Is this why Jinyoung comes here every night?, you wonder, walking to the counter to check the bottles. Is he looking for comfort, too?

You are halfway through inventory when you hear the chimes of the door. Knowing that Jisung was probably on the seventh heaven with his boyfriend right now, you make your way to the front, shouting as you walk.

“Sorry, we’re not open tonight!”

“Not even for me?” 

You look up to Jinyoung, not exactly surprised, but still impressed. He looked flawless, in jeans and a jumper. His hair, ruffled by the wind outside, covered his eyes a bit and you smile, thinking he looks adorable in his glasses. 

“What are you doing here?” You ask, walking to him. “You weren’t at the hospital…”

“I had a consultation at the penitentiary,” He sighs, and his shoulders drop at the confession. You feel the stress coming out of him, and you grab his hand, hoping that maybe some human touch is exactly what he needs. “But I wanted to see you.”

“Hello, then,” You smile bright. “Want a drink?”

“Thought you were closed?” He teases, sitting on his usual stool nonetheless. You laugh and walk behind the counter, and everything feels oddly familiar. 

“I’ll make an exception for you, kind sir,” You joke. “You did help me even without knowing me…”

“Ah, I was wondering if you recognized me from that night,” He smiles and that is all you needed. “I hated seeing that man grabbing you like that, to be honest.”

“Why? Were you already so in love with me that you got– Hey, where are you going?!” You laugh as he rolls his eyes and pretends to leave the room. He comes back when you ask him to, grabbing his cup and your hand in the process. “I missed you today.”

“Yeah?” He asks shyly, blushing a bit as you lean over the counter, face really close to his. “Missed you, too…”

“Jinyoung,” You groan. “When will you kiss me?”

You think he chokes on his drink and once you reach over to tap him on his back, he pulls you by the wrist, covering your mouth with his. You can’t help but chuckle at this man; he always looks so demanding and stern in the hospital, but his kiss is nothing short of shy and gentle. He takes his time, and your neck even hurts a bit after he pulls away, but it’s oh so worth it. 

“There,” He ‘tsk’s’ and takes another sip. “Happy? I was planning something more romantic, but you are just too impatient.”

“Oh shut up,” You hit his arm lightly. “It was visible how much you wanted to kiss me.”

“Okay, this can’t do,” He gets up and goes behind the counter, caging you in between his arms. “Y/N, this won’t work like this.”

“What do you mean?”

“For this,” He motions in between you two. “To work, you need to stop reading me.”

At that, you laugh, throwing your head back and wheezing. “It’s not something I chose to do!”

“I want to surprise you at leas once!” He whines.

“Oh,” You gasp, looking at his pouting lips. “Is big bad doctor whining?”

“Stop teasing me!” He begs, hiding his face on your neck. “I’m not good with these things.”

“Oh, I think you’re great,” You say, kissing him once more. “The best, really.”

“I hate you,” He groans, lips finding yours again. 

Jinyoung pulls you closer, sitting you on top of the counter and finding a place in between your legs as he kisses you like there is no tomorrow. Now, he is much more firm then he was before, and you can’t hide your excitement, grabbing his neck and hair and pulling him closer. 

“We need to stop,” He murmurs on your lips. “Seriously, I don’t think I’ll be able to control myself if we keep going.”

“Behave yourself, we’re at my work place,” You laugh and, pecking his lips one last time, jump out of the counter. “I still have some stuff to do, but you can go home if you want.”

Jinyoung shakes his head. “No way, I’m dropping you home after this. Jisung said he can’t come pick you up and I don’t like you walking home by yourself at night.”

“Jisung? Since when you guys talk?”

“Since I needed to find out when you’d get here,” Jinyoung smiles mischievously and he looks so young and carefree that you don’t dare to tease him, afraid that he’ll close himself off again. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“You did,” You smile. “Is that why Jimin was acting weird all day?”

“Ah, that boy can’t keep a secret for his life,” Jinyoung sighs. “Poor him, I bet you and Wheein interrogated him.”

“You bet we did, he was acting so weird!”

The banter occupies most of your time and soon enough you find yourself home, on your bed, with Jinyoung’s arms wrapped around you. The comfort is unlike anything you’ve felt before and you snuggle closer to him, happy at last.

As sleep caught up to you, you couldn’t help but think how excited you were for work tomorrow, when you’d finally have someone to pick you up, too. 

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

Hello lovelies! As promised, here is the update of the week! Jinyoung’s turn <3 This was so much fun to write, although I will admit, it’s been the hardest one so far. What do you think? Let me know in the comments :P Love you all and thank you for the constant support <3

[welkynars]

Morrowind was not a pleasant place. Seyrena had known that even before the prison ship had docked in the waters of Seyda Neen. Even the other Dunmer in Cyrodiil spoke of the ashy air, unpleasant patrons, and the lingering scent of tar that followed wherever one went. The province was disagreeable even at its best, and on nights like tonight she longed for rolling hills and sweet-smelling lavender fields of Cyrodiil.

Because… well, Cyrodiil was her home, was it not? It was the only place she ever remembered being. Cyrodiil was where she grew up, where she learned her trade and fell in love for the first time and where she’d made her mistakes. Mistakes that had landed her here. In Morrowind. A hot, unfamiliar, wretched land.

It should be unfamiliar, at least. Recently it had felt more and more like home. She did not want Morrowind to feel like home. She never asked for any of this. She never asked to be the savior of an ancestral land she’d never even been to. She never asked to be the incarnate of a man who’d died so long ago his existence was unfathomable. Never asked to be forced to bring the downfall of three fervently worshipped gods, one of whom had given her a welcome she did not deserve. Never asked to have to stand over the corpses of two mer who she apparently once called friends in a life she didn’t remember. Never asked to feel like she’d killed her own friends. 

Seyrena sighed deeply and took another swig of the unknown drink. It tasted like guar piss but it got her intoxicated and that was all she cared about. That, and the fact that the patrons of the small tavern in Pelagiad hadn’t a clue who she was. If she had to hear the title ‘Nerevarine’ one more time she would certainly slice the fingers off of whatever poor soul it was who’d said it. 

No, to the Dunmer of the Halfway Tavern she was just any old Empire-assimilated Dunmer. An outlander; a term she’d hated when she first arrived in Morrowind but longed to be called again. She was an outlander. Her own personal feelings of the Empire aside, she was of the Empire. Raised in Cyrodiil. There was nothing else she knew and nothing else she wanted to know.

A year ago that was how it had been. The alcohol in her hand let her pretend that’s how it still was.

“If you’re not careful there, elf, you’ll drink yourself to death with that,” A voice mumbled from a few feet beside her. She looked up from the corner she was sitting in. A grizzly-looking Nord man sat on the bench to the right of her, watching the bard sing and swing with harsh eyes. His clothes were splattered with dirt and grime and his hand gripped a large wooden mug. The stench of alcohol filled her nose even with his distance from her and she wondered how he was one to talk.

“I can handle my drinks just fine, Nord,” She replied coolly, also averting her eyes to the bard. A pretty young Breton woman playing the lute and singing tales of dragons. Seyrena was glad there were no songs written about her feats just yet.

The man laughed a hearty but mocking laugh and she scowled at him. She hadn’t said anything funny.

“You Dark Elves wouldn’t know drink if it slapped you in the arse,” He was looking at her now with a dangerously mocking smile. 

“Well, I grew up in Cyrodiil so I’d wager I know more than you think I do,” She took another sip of her drink as if to prove a point. “And whatever this is, it's certainly better than that poor excuse for alcohol you call mead.”

He laughed again, and again she did not know what she said that was so funny.

“Imperials are even worse!” He managed to breathe out between howling laughs. He was obviously very drunk if he found a conversation about beverages so hilarious. Seyrena turned away from him and went back to festering in her own misery and regret and longing for a life that no longer existed. She’d rather that than any sort of conversation with a drunken man.

Apparently the gods were again, not on her side and Nords were unable to take obvious hints, because he continued speaking to her. Spoke to her about his homeland(“If this were Skyrim I’d teach you a thing or two about mead, lass”), about how he was grateful the Empire was reigning in the uncivilized Dunmer(“Imperials are good for something, at least”), and finally, about the pretty little Breton girl dancing along to her tunes. 

“They don’t make them like that in Skyrim,” He grunted, watching the bard with a look that made Seyrena’s stomach twist. “We Nords are beasts of men, good for fighting and drinking. But it makes for unflattering women at the very least.” 

Her anger was only growing at this point, fingertips clenching into her own fists. The young woman was simply trying to make coin, perform, and have fun. She didn’t need some malodorous man twice her age commenting on her appearance. If Skyrim was so much better then maybe he should return. 

“Is that why you’re here instead of Skyrim? Because of the unflattering women?” Her tone was cold but the man was too drunk to notice.

“Ha! No, despite her flaws I’d return in a heartbeat, if I could. I’ve been exiled for one reason or another.”

Well, wasn’t that poetic. 

The Nord stood, steadying himself on a wooden post and slamming his mug on the table. Seyrena narrowed her eyes. 

“Well, I’d best be off. Better if I talk to the bard before some other skeever can get his hands on- hey! W-What’re ‘ya doin’?”

Perhaps it was the alcohol, or her desire to protect the Breton girl, or maybe it was just because she’d had the worst year of her life. But Seyrena found herself with her longsword drawn and pointed to the Nord’s throat, his eyes wide with fear and hands up in surrender. So much for the mighty warrior. 

She was also, suddenly, very aware of the people in the room with her; as they’d all turned to stare at the quiet Dunmer in the corner with her sword to a man. Pelagiad was a quiet and no-nonsense settlement. They weren’t quite sure what to make of the scene. And then, her voice rang out from the crowd. 

“Rena? What on Nirn-“

Mehra pushed her way to the front of the forming crowd. She looked as beautiful as ever, dressed in a quaint traveler's garb with her hickory-colored hair let loose to fall over her shoulders. She looked quite different from the Temple-apprentice Seyrena had met what felt like so long ago; older, only by a year, but her eyes held the same burden Seyrena’s did. Seyrena swallowed. Mehra didn’t deserve to be weighed down by her troubles.

Mehra pulled her ash-cover down from over her face, looking incredulously at the scene Seyrena had created. Seyrena couldn’t fully tell if the look on her face was one of disappointment or defeat. 

Before her lover could even get a word out, Drelasa came marching over, huffing something about outlanders. Seyrena rolled her eyes. 

“Mehra, I am fond of you but if your friend is going to cause scenes in my tavern you’ll never see the inside of it again!” Drelasa wagged her finger in Mehra’s face and Seyrena had the impulse to swing her sword and cut it off. 

“I know, Publican, I-“ Mehra turned to Seyrena, her eyes pleading. “Rena, please. It’s a day long trip back to Seyda Neen.”

Seyrena scoffed and looked back to the Nord who was now backed up against the wall. “You leave that girl alone or I’ll cut off your hands and stitch your lips shut.”

The Nord nodded, and she lowered her sword. He scurried off like a mouse out of the Inn to the border of the Ascadian Isles and the Bitter Coast. 

She defeatedly let Mehra take her sword from her and place it back in its sheath on her back. The Publican was still watching them, arms crossed and tapping her foot. 

“It won’t happen again, Drelasa. I apologize on behalf of both of us.” Mehra sounded sincerely sorry and Seyrena felt a pang of guilt. 

“You’re damn right it won’t happen again. B’vehk, it’s every other night with you two.”

Mehra took Seyrena’s hand and led her to their room. The latter Dunmer’s head was held low, not out of shame but in an effort to keep any patron from doing a double-take on her. “Hey, aren’t you that…”

When the two reached privacy, Mehra’s fist promptly collided with Seyrena’s shoulder. Much harder than she’d expected the mage would’ve been capable of. 

“Ow,” She muttered, rubbing the raw skin. Mehra’s gaze was as fiery as her palms in battle, and Seyrena found herself unable to meet it. 

“Why do you do these things to us? Do you want to have to walk miles in ash to find a new place to stay again?”

“He was being a s’wit,” She silently cursed herself for using the Dunmeris term. This was not her home.

“So was the Imperial Guardsman in Suran, and the Telvanni Noble in Sadrith Mora, oh! And, of course, the poor fellow who simply wanted your autograph in-“

“Alright! Alright, I get it. I ruin everything I touch. I’m sorry.”

Seyrena took a seat on the bed and pulled Mehra to stand in front of her. Apologies weren’t her strong suit. It was hard to apologize to someone else for your actions when you couldn’t forgive yourself for them. So, she intertwined their hands and looked up at her with the most apologetic eyes she could muster, her actions speaking the words that got lost in her throat. 

Mehra sighed. “You don’t ruin everything.”

“I do.”

“You don’t. In fact, you make many things quite grand,” She smiled and Seyrena, who smiled back despite herself. “You saved me, for instance. You saved Morrowind. Twice.”

Seyrena’s smile dropped and she moved away from the other woman, laying down on the bed and turning the other way. She wished Morrowind just did not exist at this moment. 

“I doomed it, more like,” She said. “Doomed to it to a future of political discourse and perhaps even religious wars.”

“That is inevitable for this country.”

Seyrena made a sound of exasperation and sat up again. “You don’t understand, Mehra. I know what is good for Morrowind. I don’t know how and I truly wish I didn’t, but I do. And this was not. Yes, Dagoth Ur had to die. The Blight had to end. But how can you diminish everything a country believes in, how can you kill-“ Her voice caught and tears threatened to spill from her eyes, which she absolutely would not allow. “How can you kill a goddess who has spent thousands of years keeping a country and it’s people afloat and expect everything to be the same, or better?”

“Almalexia went mad. It wasn’t your fault.”

“But she wouldn’t have!” Seyrena cried, frustrated that Mehra couldn’t understand what she was saying. “She wouldn’t have if it wasn’t for my existence! Everyone keeps telling me I am a blessing, that this prophecy Azura created is a blessing; it’s a curse, Mehra. It’s a curse of vengeance and I don’t want to be a part of it. I never did. I don’t want this,” The Moon-And-Star ring slipped off her finger and was thrown across the room. The tears were now falling freely from Seyrena’s face. “I’d rather have been executed for my crimes in Cyrodiil. It would’ve been merciful.”

Mehra was quiet, and now she was the one who couldn’t look at Seyrena. It was silent for what could’ve been hours. 

“There’s so much blood on my hands and no matter how often I wash them it won’t go away. Please, just make it go away.”

Still not speaking, Mehra pulled the Nerevarine into her arms and held her as she sobbed. There were no words that could be spoken to comfort her at that moment, she knew that. But it broke her heart to watch the woman who she viewed as a hero come undone before her. 

Eventually Seyrena pulled away from her, dried tears stuck to her face. Her eyes were wide and bright and Mehra wanted to latch onto her before she realized the vulnerability she’d showed and promptly went to bed. 

“I want to go east,” She said, surprising Mehra. 

“East? Like, back to Azura’s Coast? I suppose-“

The Nerevarine shook her head. “No. Farther. I want to leave Tamriel. I want to see something else, anything else.”

Mehra’s mouth opened and closed a few times. “But-“ She’d heard stories of other continents on Nirn, and none of them were good.

For a moment she believed her beloved had lost her mind right there and then. That the stress was too much to handle. But Seyrena’s eyes were dead serious and her composure was eerily calm. 

“Will you join me?”