#i am begging people to use this to make their readers cry | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

neopuppy · 7 months

Text

SOS (M)

pairing. alpha Jeno x female omega reader x alpha Jaemin

genre. haunted escape house AU👻, non traditional ABO, it’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to(or bang my older brothers friends), pw-minimal-p, M/F

warnings. profanity, y/n is Mark’s younger sister, pollen induced heat/rut, smut warnings under cut

wc. 10,000+

a/n. I am drunkhazed, no need to message to tell me that I stole my own fic.

smut warnings. f*ck or die, threesome, double penetration(vaginal/backdoor), slick, knotting, loads of cum, overstimulation, unprotected rough sex. mostly pure filth.

———————————————

I mіght burn with the flame evеn if it hurts me

I јust endleѕslу over and оvеr again go towаrds you

”Don’t think this rain is going to let up anytime soon.” Your brother calls out to you upon entering the house, followed by the sound of shaking his umbrella dry. “Hopefully it will be over by the weekend so we can still have the party.”

He smiles worriedly, reaching for your shoulder. “You had to be born during hurricane season.”

Not only during a time of temperamental unpredictable weather, but also during the spookiest time of the year. It was Hallow’s Eve when your mother pushed you out, still half-dressed up in a witch costume as she screamed, kicking the air and practically ripped apart the collar of your father’s cheaply made Spirit Halloween vampire costume; rueing the day she ever let him impregnate her, again.

“Should we plan for something else?” Mark scrolls through his phone, sitting down with a furrow between his eyebrows. “Horror nights? Might be sold out by now. Maybe a haunted hayride? We did that a few years ago though, was kind of boring huh...” he hums, snapping his fingers. “Maybe I can beg Jisung to sneak us into that new paranormal escape room. Tickets have been sold out since they opened but I’m sure if I pull some favors he’d be willing to help me out.”

“Is it really scary?”

“Shouldn’t be too bad pup.” Your brother grins, reaching to pet the back of your head. “Besides, I’ll invite the guys. You won’t have anything to be scared of with us around to protect you from all the spooky things that go bump in the night.”

Right. The guys.

The guys being your brother's best friends, the same ones that still treat you like some immature clueless puppy. It’s nice for the most part, the way they all coddle you and insist you stay their baby forever.

It’d be nicer if they didn’t feel the need to make it clear so often just what a baby you are. Acting like you are not only a year apart in age.

“What were you going to dress up as this year anyway?” Mark continues, texting his group-chat about the possible change of plans due to the erratic weather.

“Doesn’t matter I guess, my package still hasn’t made it. Might have to recycle an old costume.” You sigh, bummed that the brewing hurricane hasn’t only ruined your party but also your valid excuse to dress like a slut without a reprimanding lecture from your older brother.

“You should definitely bust out Gollum again.” He laughs, nudging your arm. “My precious.”

“Mark, I was a kid! Let it go!”

“What, a kid?! That was just last year!” He clutches at his chest offended. “That was our best costume! Do you know how hard we worked on those hobbit feet?!”

“You guys looked like idiots.”

“We did not!” He splutters, tugging on your hair. “Take that back! People still talk about how great me and Jaemin acted out Sam and Frodo’s friendship monologue.”

“Can’t believe he agreed to being the fat hobbit.”

“Can’t believe you agreed to being Gollum.” Mark laughs, adding a wink. “Well, I guess I can. That crush you had on Jaeminie back then was unbearable.”

“Shut up!!!!” You shout, nearly tackling your brother from the couch. “I did not have a crush on him!”

“Oh really? Because I believe your diary entry from October 3rd would disagree!” He runs behind the couch dodging your advances, raising his voice in pitch.

‘Jaemin presented as an Alpha today! I always knew he’d be an Alpha! Goddess he’s so handsome! I can’t handle the thought of him getting any bigger and stinking up the house with his pheromones whenever he’s over. What am I going to do, I can barely hide how much I like him already!?!?’

“Shut up!!!” You scream, lunging over the back of the couch to choke your brother out. “Shut up shut up shut up!!”

“You’ll never catch me!” Mark laughs maniacally, charging for the staircase to run and hide in his bedroom.

“You’re dead when I do!”

———————————————

“What the fuck is this?!” Your brother fumes at the bottom of the stairs, head shaking in disapproval as you flounce down toward him.

“What?”

“This costume!” He motions angrily. “What the hell is that!”

“Jennifer Check!” You say dumbfounded, rolling your eyes. “Like, duh! One of my favorite movies, you know! My costume made it on time!”

The front door pushes open right as you spin to show off the purple and yellow cheer costume, mini-skirt twirling around your hips showing off a pair of snug fit panties adorned with the words ‘I KILL BOYS’ across the backside.

“Woah.” Jeno stutters, falling against Jaemin’s side where they both stand, mouth agape and wide-eyed in disbelief.

“The fuck are you pervs looking at!” Mark smacks the two of them across their chests, grabbing one of his jackets from the coat hanger nearby to throw at you. “Go change! You can’t wear that!”

“What?! Don’t be a jerk!” You snap back, throwing the jacket at his face. “It’s my Birthday!”

Jaemin steps forward to grab Mark’s arm and tug him back. “Come on dude, it’s just a costume. Besides, it’s cute..”

“You would say that.” Mark mumbles, shoving his friend off. “When you’re freezing your ass off out there, don’t come running to me for my hoodie.” Your brother grunts again, headed to the kitchen with Haechan and Jaemin in tow.

“You can always borrow my hoodie.” Jeno grins, approaching you with open arms. “Happy Birthday, or well, early Birthday.”

“Thanks Jeno.. Mark can be a real dick sometimes..” you mumble, squeezing around the Alphas waist to tighten the embrace.

“I think he’s just doing his duty of fulfilling your protective older brother role.” Jeno’s palms smooth down your back, cupping your waist. “For what it’s worth, I love the costume.” Taking a step back he gives you a once over, slowly nodding. “Jennifer’s Body, great movie. Not quite a final girl though, but..”

“I thought about that, but since none of my friends want to battle this hurricane and it’s turned into an all boys party again,” you turn around, flipping the back of your skirt up. “I’d say my chances of surviving are pretty high.”

Jeno licks his lips, biting back the urge to smile. “You got me there.” Reaching for the chain on your neck he draws out the crystal Evenstar pendant hidden between your chest. “You’ll spare me, right?”

The Alpha strokes over the design, smiling as he remembers your last Birthday when you cried about dressing up as Gollum. “You should have done Arwen this year.”

“Without Aragorn?”

Jeno’s gaze drifts back to yours, setting the pendant in place to sit on your chest nicely. “Well..”

“Alright, let's start heading out before this rain picks up.” Mark interrupts, barging back out with a backpack full of snacks for the drive. “Jisung texted, they just let in the last group of the night to enter the escape house, by the time we get there it should be ready to go for us.”

Jeno clears his throat, patting away the sweat collecting on his palms. “Yeah, sounds good, let's grab our umbrellas from Haechan’s car just in case.”

“Passenger seat for the Birthday girl!” You squeal, waving at your brother's friends. “The three little pigs in the backseat!”

“Heyyy!” Haechan snickers, swatting the air behind you as you run past.

———————————————

“Stay close to me pup.” Mark pulls on your elbow, shooting a glare over his shoulder at his friends.

“You know escape rooms work better if we all separate and try to find the clues on our own.” Haechan laughs, shaking his head and throwing a thumb in Mark’s direction. ‘This guy.’ He mouths.

“Isn’t rule number 1 to not separate?”

“This isn’t a horror film Jeno, it’s a game.”

“What do you think Saw was?!” Jeno’s arms flail, bumping into Jaemin’s side. “I wanna play a game?!”

“Haechan’s right.” You sigh, tugging yourself free from your brother's grip. “The timers started already, we need to work faster.”

Mark frowns, pulling off his jacket to throw over your shoulders. “You look cold.”

“Oh my God, what happened to not sharing your jacket with me huh! You’re so annoying! It’s Halloween!” You screech, shoving it back at his chest.

Haechan snorts, patting his friend on the back. “You know, we’ve seen her in less than that.”

“I’ll fucking kill you dude.” He growls, lunging at his friend's neck. “Don’t talk about my sister like that!”

Jeno and Jaemin let them grapple, watching with half-amused half-annoyed expressions as their friends fall to the floor tackling each other.

“You guys think this is a hint?” You nod to a pile of photos, all containing different guests that have passed through the rooms caught off guard with mouths wide open screaming. “They haven’t taken our picture yet, maybe it happens in this room.”

“We have 7 minutes left.” Jaemin moves next to you, snapping his fingers to a camera tripod set up in a corner. “Maybe we are the ones who have to take the picture.”

Jeno opts to continue searching for clues, moving down onto his knees to get a look under a couch against one of the walls. “The riddle said something about letting your worst fear consume you.” He crouches lower, coughing at the dust that lifts as he reaches and pats around coming up empty.

“I hate clowns.” Jaemin mumbles, working on figuring out how to set up the old camera.

“Clowns?” You snort, anxiously moving closer to the taller, pretending to care about the camera. “Didn’t think you’d have a fear of clowns of all things..”

“Why not?” Jaemin smiles, avoiding your gaze as he continues to tinker and focus on an area to point the lense toward.

“I don’t know.. clowns aren’t scary..”

Jeno pats off his legs, neither of them wearing much of a costume besides masks they’d pocketed once entering the escape house, claiming it was too hard to see anything. “Remember that movie Cujo? Shit had me terrified to go near a dog for years when I was a kid.”

“Dogs?!” Both you and Jaemin respond abruptly, falling into laughter together. The tension evades your limbs as you lean onto his side and wrap around his arm.

“You can’t be serious!” You say, wiping at the moisture pricking the outside corners of your eyes. “Geeze, clowns and dogs.. here I thought Alphas were supposed to be tough and fearless.”

Jaemin scoffs, flexing the bicep wrapped in your hold. “Hey! A lot of people are scared of clowns!”

“Can’t lie, I’m feeling pretty tough right now, my biggest fear is probably like a demon entity that’s decided it wants my soul specifically.”

Jeno’s mouth opens, shutting and closing again before speaking. “That’s uhm, dark?”

“Understandable.” Jaemin shrugs. “Why don’t the two of you go pose like a demon just appeared out of thin air to suck the soul out of you like some Dementor.”

Jeno moves to stand next to you, pointing past where Jaemin stands behind the camera. “Over there!”

The other Alpha runs into the shot just in time for the flash to go off and capture the three of your fright filled surprised expressions, ejecting the photo onto the floor beginning to develop.

“Guys, the door!” Jeno says loud enough to grab Mark and Haechan’s attention on the other side of the room. The two glancing over confused from the puzzle they’ve been working on for the last few minutes. “It’s opening!”

He rushes forward, motioning for the rest of you to follow after, an impending beep beep beep emitting past the speakers above as you make way into the next room.

“Guys, hurry up!”

“We’re coming! We’re coming!” Haechan shouts, stumbling to stand and grab Mark’s shoulder to pry him up.

“Shit,” Mark misses a step, tumbling back to his knees. “Ah, fuck!”

“Dude!” Haechan shrieks, turning back to watch the door begin to slide shut with three sets of eyes peering back at him full of worry.

“Hurry up!” Jaemin screams, rushing to push against the thick metal sliding down.

“Jaemin!” Jeno draws the younger Alpha back to his chest, using his weight to pull him away from the slam of the door locking into place.

The slam of the door sounds final, more ominous as darkness pours over the room before the slam of bodies bang into the opposite side; power buzzing off with the clink of a lock setting into place.

“Guys?!?” Spinning around you begin to panic, unable to find either of your friends without the help of light.

“What’s happening?!” You fret, slapping the door that's shut behind you. “Mark?!?”

“I’m here!” He calls back, throwing his side against the other side. “Fuck!”

“Was everything supposed to shut down like that?” Jeno asks, patting around the room for a switch.

“Fuck, wish I had my phone.” Jaemin follows his lead, gingerly tapping along the shelves set up against one of the walls and cursing about the ‘no phones allowed’ rule. “Wait, I think I found a flashlight.”

A click illuminates the room, shining around displaying nothing much abnormal. A few chairs, cushions, and boxes stacked together in one corner. The shelf holding a variety of items from DVDs to books to sculptures.

“Is it me or is it kind of..” Jeno tugs on the collar of his shirt, gaze skirting around quickly in search of a vent. “Humid in here? I feel sticky already.”

Jaemin nods, shining the light on the boxes. “Yeah, it’s stuffy in here.. uh..”

Mark continues slamming into the door, calling out for help. A worried murmur following from Haechan. “Did the power seriously just cut out? Like, this isn’t part of the game dude??”

“Hey, Jeno… come here..”

Jeno’s eyebrows perk up, walking over to where Jaemin stands searching through slew of boxes. “What is i— what the fuck..”

“Wh-what room is this?” Jaemin stutters, peering over his shoulder where you still try to pull the door open. “What are we supposed to do with this?”

Jeno swallows, head throbbing hard enough to make his eyes squint shut, blinking away beads of sweat beginning to roll down his forehead. “I don’t feel..”

Jaemin dry swallows, shutting the lid to open up another box. This one at least offers more, a box full of masks, unlabeled pills, cloths and fresh water bottles. “You think this is safe to drink?”

“Mark, I can’t anymore.” You sound breathless behind them, palms slapping down weakly one last time before sinking to your knees before the door. “I feel hot.”

Jeno’s instinct shouts at him to help you, waving off Jaemin to squat down by your side and place a palm across your forehead. “Shit, you’re burning up.”

He cleans the back of his hand off on his pants, grimacing at how soaked his forearm looks, shirt clinging to his chest. “Maybe it’s me actually.”

Jaemin pants, shaking his shirt away from his chest the more it begins to cling to his skin. “The hurricane must have killed the power, I don’t think the air is working.”

The three of you fall silent, quietly listening to the barely there soft blow of air coming from somewhere. Shining the flashlight up to the vent, Jaemin squints, blinking away the sweat clumping his eyelashes together. “It’s not coming from there..”

Jeno shares a look with him, setting a finger on his lips to keep their voices down as he crawls around the room to find the source. Approaching the shelf, he pulls away a pile of books, coughing and falling back as a waft of strong dust flies at his face. “Jeno!” Jaemin runs over, coughing and waving away the air to help his friend. “What the fuck is that?!”

“It’s—“ you sit up on your knees, head heavy, dropping you to hold yourself on all fours.

“It’s pollen!” Jeno shouts, eyes wide and crazed, turning to bury his face in Jaemin’s chest to keep down a growl. “We have to get out of here!”

Jaemin panics, grabbing onto his friend tighter to pull them both away from the now fully uncovered hole pumping out endless waves of dizzying scent, circling them both and instantly weakening his will to move. “I-I can’t.”

Jeno bites down, face drenched in sweat, gathering at his chin in large droplets. “We have to get away from her!”

Jaemin can hardly hear his friends' screams over the overwhelming sound of his racing heart, each breath deeper than the last. Each inhale more crucial to his system, pumping toxic oxygen through his veins and overtaking his mind.

“We’re getting help pup!” Mark calls out again, sounding more pathetic than usual. “I’m going to get you out of there okay?! I promise!”

“Mark..” you cry, falling flat on your side out of breath. Pupils fully blown out covered in gold as heat engulfs your every sense, soaked right through your Halloween costume. “I feel..”

The smell of arousal hits the two Alphas next, punching them across the face both hard enough to snap their necks, awakening feral need to impale an Omega on their cocks.

“The box.” Jaemin gasps, covering his face with one hand and letting the flashlight in his hold fall, rolling around shining light around the room. “The chains.”

Jeno follows after him in a rush, pulling his sweat soaked shirt up to cover his nose and mouth. It’s useless, the pollen already integrated with their biology, shaking its way through their limbs and bones.

“We ne-need to..” Jaemin struggles, teeth chattering as he reaches for the box he shut just minutes ago, pulling it down with the tips of his fingers. The loud clatter of chains, ropes, sex toys and boxes of condoms spills across the floor, now making complete sense. “Jeno, tie me up. I… you have to tie me up.”

Jeno shakily reaches for one of the ropes, dropping it with an anguished moan at the first throb passing between his thighs. The pollen fully absorbed into his lungs from meeting it face on, he falls face first with a loud thud, chest beating wildly. “Jaemin, t-tie me.. me first— I—can’t.”

“Jisung’s here!” Mark calls, knocking the door happily.

Haechan runs back into the other room with their friend, both out of breath from racing their way back through the dark, using the employee route on the way back.

“What the fuck is this Ji?!?” Mark’s enraged tone is hard to miss even between walls, followed by a mumble of panic and worry.

“The power died, news is saying it could be hours..”

“So what?!? There has to be a way to open this door!” Mark shouts back, face full of heat and anger.

Jisung’s mouth falls, reaching to scratch his neck nervously. “I can’t go in that room.”

“What the fuck do you mean you can’t!”

“It’s the..” Jisung swallows, pulling out a map to hand to Mark.

“Sex pollen?!” His eyes widen, nearly popping out of their sockets before turning back to kick at the door. “If either of you assholes fucks my sister, I’ll kill you!!!”

Your brother's threat has Jaemin working faster to tie a knot around his friend's wrists, completely avoiding your existence by the room entrance despite the thick taste of slick filling his mouth. “Come on Jeno, we have to work together.” He says frantically, licking away the bats of sweat trickling from his upper lip.

“Alpha..”

The air stiffens, hard enough to shatter like glass if either of them were to take another breath. The two freeze in place, trembling with their hands gripped around each other deadly tight as the most beautiful helpless moan dances through their ears.

“Alpha, I need you.”

Jeno manages to somehow get Jaemin’s arms chained together behind his back, struggling as he fumbles with a pair of handcuffs to attach on the other and keep them locked together- at least for as long as their bodies will allow.

“Jeno..”

Your voice licks at his ear, back going stiff as his lips twitch and he nearly breaks down into tears. Every demand to control himself grows more distant, fading away past the chants to fuck, claim, breed and mate.

“Jeno!” Jaemin’s raspy shout cuts through him like a blade, falling forward in a daze as his canines burn as if the pollen has seeped into his brain and began to flow with the blood rushing through each of his rapidly pulsating veins. “Don’t! You can’t!”

“Alpha, please.”

The call beckons him to lift his head, lips coated in a thick layer of spit pouring freely the more he falls victim to the crushing need to give in to his primal desires.

“Alpha.” The land of your palms against his chest has him lurching up straight, neck going ramrod with wide-eyes at the realization of your lack of distance, having crawled your way closer to capture him. The loosely tied rope hanging off his wrists uselessly, easy to free himself from. “Need you, it hurts—it hurts Alpha.”

Jeno struggles to swallow, the lining of his throat blanketed with a molasses thick layer of saliva, making it harder to breath and forcing him to wheeze as he meets your blown-out gaze. “C-can’t, we can’t.”

“Jeno! Listen to me!” Jaemin shouts, mostly barricaded away by the fog thats begun to stuff the olders ears. “You have to resist! It’s the pollen, she doesn’t know what she’s asking for!!”

“Alpha..” your voice breaks past the piles of cotton stuffing his ears, managing to squeeze your way past his lack of sense as Jaemin fails to.

Jeno wants to tell you to stop, he wants to push you away as gently as he can, wants to control himself, but as you make the next move forward and settle onto his lap, he can’t find himself anymore; he’s gone. Lost in the delirious magic of your high potent arousal.

“Jeno!” Jaemin audibly struggles behind the two of you, neck twisting to watch you push down onto Jeno’s lap and circle his shoulders, the Alphas neck limp as he leans forward, forehead crashing against yours. “Jeno! Think clearly! Try to think!”

Jaemin cries between his screams, fumbling around with the chains and handcuffs the older had managed to lock shut just a minute ago, his chest aches; screaming with something akin to jealousy that he wishes to ignore and shove aside. He should’ve contained the other Alpha first.. Jeno got hit with the pollen hardest..

“What was I thinking..” he sighs, forcing his eyes shut to look away from the first roll of your hips landing down against his friends. Jaemin bites back a growl, head dizzy the more he tries to work through the jumble of thoughts racing past him.

Mark will kill you.

Fuck his sister.

Fuck her now before Jaemin can claim your Omega.

Jeno can’t tell anything apart in the room anymore, the only clear vision in front of him is you. If not for the incessant need to feel every inch of your flesh he’d move slower, he’d move faster if not from his own exhaustion and resistance still struggling to bring him back.

“Jeno..”

“Omega.”

“Yes.” You gasp out, clawing at his chest for some type of contact. Everything burns, from the blood pumping through your veins to the heat raging through your nerves; screaming through your bones to have your Alpha, to consume every bit of him.

“Want me to fuck you?” Jeno hisses, head spinning as your scent invades his nostrils and takes over any minor hint of sense he possibly had left.

“Jeno, no!” Jaemin fights to unlatch himself, the flesh lining his wrists cut through with each pull and cry he lets out the more he fails to get free. “Don’t!”

The Alphas cock thrums, aching up his chest with a pained howl swarming his mind. The pollen awakening his feral instincts, shouting at him in anger to not let another Alpha have you before he can.

“Is that what you want?” Jeno clutches onto your hips, rutting you down against the stiff lump protruding from his crotch, panting along your lips that part open the faster he works you down.

“Inside,” you breathily gasp, flushed by the heavy want and need to press flesh to flesh. “W-wanna feel you inside.”

“Ah, fuck.” Jeno rocks your hips down urgently, ass lifting up to push harder against the seat of your underwear. Wound up too tight to stop himself, he manages to maneuver you onto your back with quick speed, still humping erratically between your thighs for some type of friction. “Fuck, I can’t.”

The Alpha jerks once, twice, neck strained back in arch leaving the veins lined up his neck on full display for your Omega to salivate over, canines aching to dig in and mark him up. With tight lips he grunts, circling down against the now wet fabric of his boxers, soiling through his jeans as release spurts out and makes a mess between his cock and underwear.

“Alpha?”

Jaemin scoffs loudly, chains rattling with another curse as he shouts to be let free. “You can’t even get your pants off before cumming!”

Jeno grimaces, ducking down to kiss your chin apologetically. “Alpha please, need your cock, need it inside.”

God, your begging can make his head explode, crumbling as he litters searing pecks down your throat and licks over the pendant splayed on your chest. “Wanna be inside you.” He pants heavily, gliding beneath the cheerleader top keeping your breasts hidden, scooting the material just high enough to expose the hardened tips of your nipples for his thumbs to flick and press down on.

“Alpha!” Screeching and arching you, you writhe under his hold, lengthy palms swipe up your sides, cupping your chest to bounce up as he bites down a moan and grinds harder against the soaked material of your panties.

“Unchain me!” Jaemin’s shouts grow lost the more the thick scent of your sweet slick wraps around Jeno, opting to replace a hand on your breasts with his mouth in favor of finally reaching down to unbutton and tug himself free.

The Alphas lips encase your nipple, tongue lapping roughly as if he expects something to trickle out. Already envisioning the sweet nectar of your lactating breasts after he fills you with enough seed to ensure you carry his pups. Without a clear mind to process a thought beyond fucking and breeding, Jeno tugs at his wet cock, shoving your panties to the side with the same cum covered hand before slapping the thick length against your already swollen slit.

“Please please please!”

Jeno growls, gliding the girthy meat between your blood filled cunt, the arousal hot enough to scorch around him, making his chest flutter with fear and hunger. “It’s all for you.” Hauling one of your thighs up, he leans in to lick across your upper lip, puffing wheezed breaths as the tip of his cock prods at your entrance.

“Alpha, Alpha!” The pathetic cries you let out as he works into your tight heat has his eyes rolling back, cock throbbing enough to feel each tremor pass through his limbs.

“Fuck fuck fuck.” Jeno groans, eyes clenched shut when he hits obstruction and the weight of his heavy balls slaps against your ass. “Oh fuckkk.”

“Alpha,” you sigh dreamily, mouth hung open covered in drool. “Feel s-so good, feel so big.”

Jeno’s forehead presses to yours, sweat slipping your skin together and pushing his nose to dig against yours. “It’s you, so fucking tight.” He emphasizes with a pointed thrust, inching out to the tip only to feed his cock back inside much faster and pick up the pace until your hole finally gives around him and he can fuck into you with a renewed ease. “That’s it, relax for me baby, you like that? Like how my cocks pounding into you so fucking good.”

“Jeno,” you gasp, lower back arching up with each expert thrusts. The Alpha more experienced than you, evident by the way he takes control and fucks you harder without having to beg for more. “Love it—love your c-cock.”

Jeno fucks into you even harder at that, dripping with sweat as your bodies run together chasing the highest high, mind numb with nothing but the desire to feel his cum shoot out deep inside of you. “Louder.” He smacks your thigh, the clap thunderous throughout the room, forcing Jaemin to twist up from the floor in seek of his own pleasure.

“Asshole.” He cries, tears streaming down his cheeks as he breaks and watches the two of you lost in the animalistic desire that has you fucking like two feral blood thirsty wolves in heat. It’s enough behind his wet vision to tune the other Alpha out and focus on the euphoric pleasure that's taken over your usually innocent angelic face.

“Love your cock!” You whine, face wrenched up as you turn away and your head bounces back from the overwhelming sensations racing through you. “Love it so—so much.”

“Fuck yeah.” Jeno groans, beginning to lose rhythm as his hips stutter and he pulls out completely one more time, quickly punching back through your tight heat in one go just to feel you clamp down around his cock to a suffocating point. The Alphas everywhere, arms encasing your head as he leans in and licks down your cheek to capture your lips, balls tightening up letting him know he’s close. So close to filling your womb with cum, fucking faster and faster even as you pulse around his length and jostle under his punishing thrusts. Pussy milking his cock dry as you hit climax and grip around him mercilessly.

The kiss grows sloppy, weight dropping down as he sucks your bottom lip in and circles his cock deep inside until the last white string shoots out. “You okay?”

Jeno pants loudly, clothes heavy on his back now drenched by sweat. He waits for you to nod before pulling out with a hiss to fall by your side and allow his eyes to fall shut for just a minute, a minute to catch his breath. A minute too long as you already find yourself crawling to Jaemin, ripping at the cheerleader top halfway up your torso.

The Alphas gaze lifts to yours excitedly, licking his lips as he shakes his head awake after seeing white as he fucked up into the air and came inside of his pants. “Alpha.” You say in the most seductive tone he’s ever heard, better than music to his ears in this hedonistic state.

“Pup, help me.” Jaemin sounds shattered, voice raspy as if sandpaper scrubbed his vocal chords. “My hands.”

The scent of his release punches into you, scrabbling up his thighs to remove his pants from hiding him away. “Alpha, need more, need you.”

“Please puppy,” he grits, thighs trembling under your eager hands, hips twitching up. “Please get my hands!”

The tormented whine he lets out steals your focus long enough to show concern, nodding as you scoot in closer and reach around to his back in search of the chains latched together.

“Need to t-touch you.” He whines pitifully, helping you by shaking his forearms weakly with each unravel of the chain. “Need to—“

Jaemin lets out the loudest blood curdling howl, finally able to roll his wrists around, he pounces up to settle on his knees, hoisting you by the waist to be manhandled onto all fours. “Just like that.” His large palm closes around the back of your neck, pinching the skin taut until you mule and whimper, arching back showing off the obscene mess you’ve made.

Jaemin snarls at the sight of another Alphas cum smeared all over your underwear, quickly digging his sharp nails into the material to tear them off, the seams ripping apart nastily loud, pulsing terror through your nerves. “Let him fuck you before me?” He growls, leaning over your back and landing a strike to your ass.

“You’ll let anyone fuck you? Slutty Omega, any cock would satisfy you.”

“N-no Alpha,” you squirm, buttcheek stinging for less than a minute before another whip-like slap lands. “Ahh!”

“Don’t lie to me, Omega.” The Alpha grunts, sparing your ass from another hit to work his pants down and flip your skirt up, sad excuse of underwear(that you paid extra for) left shredded into pieces nearby. “No fucking point, I’ll fuck you the way you deserve.”

Jaemin wraps around his length, swiping through the wetness covering your inner thighs as he works up to your slit and pushes between your swollen soft folds. “Fuck you like I found you out in the wild, pussy leaking everywhere begging to be claimed.”

“Yesyesyes! Alpha, take me!”

“So fucking wet.” Jaemin rasps, wrapping your hair around his fist to pull your neck up and attach his lips to your jugular, softly teething at the vein pumping fiercely against his tongue. “Don’t move, or I’ll really make it hurt.” He says between kisses, licking at the sweat dangling from your jawline.

The Alpha shoves up, keeping the hold on your hair tight as his arm extends to push your chest to the ground, hips ramming against your supple ass. “Present.”

A gurgled sound of agreement leads your hips to push open, ass lifted high as you spread apart, placing your soaked cunt perfectly under the dim streaks of light coming from the scattered flashlights. “Good girl, keep it exactly like that for me.”

Jaemin slaps his length between your thighs a few times, biting down to keep his moans at bay. “Omega with the prettiest pussy, how’d I get so lucky?” He mumbles, head spinning this close to your sugary sweet scent.

“Ah, p-please—ahhh!” Without wasting another second he slams in, finding lack of resistance thanks to the amount of slick spilling out of you, and maybe because someone else was too greedy before he had the chance.

“That’s it, take all of it.” Jaemin says, lapping at the saliva slipping from his plump lips and grabbing a firm hold on your hip with one hand while keeping your head twisted painfully. He begins to pound fervently; turning just in time to catch Jeno’s eyes fluttering open, irises blown out red full of hunger. “This is what you needed, Omega? Feel that pussy nice and stretched around my cock? Tell me.”

“Y-yes!” You sound near death as you shout, fucked into like nothing but a cocksleeve to fuck for his own gain. Jaemin growls, tugging your hair to turn your gaze to Jeno’s.

“Say it.”

“N-needed,” you wail, cock sliding in and out of you easily, copious amounts of slick rammed out with each pump of his length pushing in deep. The wetness claps through the room, drenched thighs shaking form the force of the Alphas weight slamming down. “C-cock, needed!”

“Say you needed my cock.” Jaemin says in a lowered strict tone, scooping around your waist to pull you back onto his cock even faster.

“Yours!” You shriek, the Alpha squatted over your back with his feet flat to the floor to gain power. Jeno’s lip curls, pushing up to sit and throw off his sweat soaked shirt. “Yours Alpha! Ahh fuck!”

He sighs, cock aching already from listening to your pretty sounds, even if he’s not the one receiving them.

“Pussy so fucking good.” Jaemin grins at the other Alpha, drawing his cock out inch by inch to admire the thick gloss of slick stained up to his abdomen. “How am I supposed to stop fucking you now?”

Jeno rolls his eyes, moving closer to slap Jaemin’s hand away from your hair. “Sweet little puppy, you’ll do anything for some dick.”

He snickers a bit, forcing a soft smile when you blink up clearly lost to the feeling of being stuffed full again and again. “You close baby?”

“Pussy’s gripped around me so tight,” Jaemin adds, fucking at a punishing fast and strong pace.

“Y-yes,” you slur, finding comfort in Jeno’s palm gliding over your cheek. “Wa—wanna cum!”

“You cum when I tell you to cum.” Jaemin says despite your consistent whines, slamming down hard enough to have you slip on your knees, pushed belly flat to the floor to be used as nothing more than a fucktoy.

“Alpha! No, please!” You kick, screaming through grinding teeth. Jeno glares at the younger, snaking his free hand under your hips to find your clit and pinch the bud between two fingers.

“Shh shhh, it’s okay puppy.” He says sweetly, watching your eyes roll back leaving nothing but whites behind. “Don’t listen to him, cum for me.”

Jaemin’s hips barrel down even faster, enraged that the other Alpha has the audacity to touch you. “If you cum, I’ll punish you worse than this.” He says in a deep low registered growl, colliding down against your ass hard enough to bloom bruises tomorrow.

“It’s okay baby, cum for me.” Jeno repeats, thumbing away the tears tracking freely down your cheeks, dick throbbing the more his hand gets drenched with slick.

“Alpha—I—I,” your eyes roll up, empty of thought as gold coats across any color, fiery and wide, lips parted in a silent scream. Jaemin curses behind you, struggling for a moment to push through the ruthless clench of your heat, he fucks through your orgasm even with slick shooting out around his length making it harder to fuck you fiercely.

“Shit.” Jeno salivates, licking at his lips repeatedly as his hand draws free from under your collapsed weight and takes in the arousal that slid down his forearm.

Jaemin’s movements turn erratic, slapping sweaty palms down on your upper back for leverage to keep going even as his release approaches; lost in the depths of his own nonsensical pleasure. “O-oh shit!”

The Alpha stutters, letting out a high-pitched sound similar to a wounded puppy, hips hitting with finality as he finally lets go and shoots drop after drop of cum deep inside of you.

Breathing becomes harder with Jaemin’s chest landing against yours, slapped over and over again by the older Alpha to move. “Get off of her.”

“Ah, fuck you.” He mumbles, biting down on his lip as he slips out, half-hard cock landing against his pelvis softly twitching. “Damn.” His head reels for a minute, calmed momentarily. Coherent thoughts pass by, blinking slowly at the ceiling as he takes in deep inhales of pollen filled air and quickly succumbs to the desperation, the need to be inside of you again.

“Jeno,” you whimper, reeling from being fucked back to back.

“More?” He asks, taken aback but also not surprised, his own arousal spiking up at mere glimpse of you.

Nodding, you turn lazily, cupping to cover your mound to hide. “H-hurts..”

“That’s fine.” Jaemin speaks up, moving next to his friend with a grin as he kneads your ass, lifting your buttcheek to get a good look at your hole. He bends forward, swiping two fingers between your pert mounds, circling over the rim. “Jeno got to fuck your first..”

He says, peering over his shoulder at the Alpha with a mischievous glint in his eye. “I’ll make it feel good, puppy. Real good.”

Shivers run up your spine, Jaemin pushing his way closer to hold your ass apart with his lips pursed together, dropping a wad of spit just to watch it dribble down your rim. “Want it?” He asks, digits digging into the meaty flesh of your bottom.

“Alpha..” your hole pulses, winking enticingly, answering for you as he surges in and runs his tongue across the wrinkled entrance.

“No time for all this,” he says between huffed breaths, setting a searing kiss on your rim. “Sorry angel, promise it’ll get better.”

Confusion draws your eyebrows together, manhandled up for your back to lay against the Alphas chest, pushing between your thighs from behind he rubs between to gather up the wads of slick continuously pouring out, cock dripping with the thick cream. “Ready?”

“Unghh..” lifelessly, you shake your head, unsure what he’s even asking. Jeno moves in to take a hold of your waist.

“Slow, give her time to adjust..” he says in a low warning, already imagining the younger to brutally fuck into you as he already did. “Don’t hurt her.”

Jaemin mumbles a curse, stroking the slick up and down his size and smearing the rest over your rim. “She can take it, she’s a good Omega.” He whispers, gaze directed to your lower halves with focus on the tip of his cock nudging at your rim. “Isn’t that right angel?”

Heavy breath fans Jeno’s lips, watching your eyes widen at the first inch pushing past your viscously tight rim. “Shh shh, it’s okay.”

Cupping your chin, he kisses lightly across your upper lip, stealing the pained moans passing through with a firmer press. Jaemin groans gravelly behind you, holding your ass spread apart to ensure the best view of his cock stretching your hole open.

“Fuck, that’s too good..” he whines, teeth grinding together the more his cock disappears. “What a good slut, hmm? Taking Alphas cock anywhere.”

Jeno can’t help but rut against your hip, growing more hazy with the vibrations of your cries tracing past his tongue. “Can I fuck you too?” He asks desperately, nose rubbing against yours sweetly. “Please?”

A light nod gives him enough answer, thanking you with a firm kiss and tongue massaging around yours. “The best Omega for us.”

Jaemin grunts to agree, pushing in balls deep with a shout, neck stiff and rippling. The tight clamp of your ass has his thighs shaking, heavy hands smoothing around your hips to press down on your lower stomach. “Fuck, this is crazy.” He says with a meticulous roll of his hips, ass bouncing against him. “..Won’t last long inside this pretty tight hole puppy.”

Jeno’s fingers pass between your thighs, teasing past your folds to rub circles at your sore stretched entrance. “This okay?”

“Fuck man, hurry the hell up before my dick falls off.” Jaemin growls, biting at your shoulder to stave off the the urge to completely pull out and fuck back into you raw, throw you back onto your knees like a good little breeding bitch.

“Alpha, p-please, put it in—“ you drawl, vaginal opening spasming around the tips of Jeno’s fingers. Kissing at the backs of his teeth, he nods fast, gripping his length to push between your fleshy velvety folds.

“More, more!” You whine, slapping and clawing at his chest. Jeno hisses, guttural and deep, grabbing your flailing arms and clutching your wrists together, shoving them to your chest with one hand to keep you held in place.

“More? Wanna become our pretty little slut? Fucked by two Alphas at the same time?” He asks softly, the words sounding sweeter than they should from his pretty pout.

“Yes yes yes! Jeno, Alpha! Please please,” you gasps, head rolling back, neck dropped against Jaemin’s shoulder. “Wan-wanna be filled so bad, so fucking bad.”

“So God damn pathetic,” Jaemin whimpers, licking the light teeth marks left behind on your shoulder.

Jeno thinks he might pass out if he doesn’t get his dick inside of you in an instant, steadying himself with the hold on your wrists, he strokes at his shaft one more time to spread the slick; slowly pushing the tip in past your opening as he leans in and huffs over your lips. “How bad do you need it?”

“Please!”

Jaemin screams a slew of curses, gripping hard around your waist and slamming you down to fully take Jeno’s length. Choking on your breath, you stiffen up, legs falling apart only held up by the Alphas keeping you full with their thick cocks.

Jeno’s lips twitch, face dropping to catch his breath as he notices a bulge jutting out under your navel, experimentally swirling his hips forward to see the skin protrude from his cockhead pushed that deep inside of you. “Fuck! Oh fuck.”

He gasps, short of breath admiring the skin stretch out, his cock overbearingly hot with Jaemin’s filling you up from the other side. The skin separating their lengths thin enough to feel the younger Alphas girth rest against the underside of his, throbbing together deep inside of you. “That has to hurt baby.”

“That’s it.” Jaemin encourages, struggling to speak with wads of saliva wrapped around his tongue. “You’re doing so well.”

“F-fuck—me.” You beg, eyes clenched shut tightly, growing delirious with need to feel the Alphas move in and out of you.

“Feel stuffed full, huh?” Jaemin grits, punctuating the question with a harsh thrust.

“So—so good!” You sob, reeling as Jeno follows and removes his length leaving only the bulbous tip of his cock inside before pummeling back in, fucking with full force. Pulling out only to bury back into the hilt again and again, pussy skin grasping around his cock better than anything he’s ever felt before.

Jaemin gets lost in the feeling of your taut pulsating ass swallowing his cock, head spinning with each honey-dripping moan you let out by his ear. “Ah—God, your ass is too fucking good.”

The Alphas begin to work their hips faster, simultaneously thrusting in and out, cocks moving in unison unbeknownst to each other. The rhythm they build up feels punishing, pushing you into a state of ecstasy; gasping out short little breaths as your lungs close in.

Jeno reaches down to rub at your clit with his thumb, swollen nub beyond sensitivity, stealing a fast orgasm out of you. It hits harder than any so far, blacking out as your breath is punched out of you. Thighs quivering and cramping as a stream of clear slick rushes free from your convulsing cunt, arching out high enough to land on Jeno’s abdomen and trickle down.

“Oh—shit—ah,” he shouts, cock stilling as Jaemin lets out an ear-shattering growl and his solid biceps squeeze around your waist, lifting you up and down to thrust in and out of your asshole at a relentless pace.

With your pussy continuing to pulse, Jeno buries his cock back in. Biting down on his lip as you keep squirting around his length.

“Alphas—s’too much, ahh! C-can’t!” You whimper, helplessly trying to free your wrists from Jeno’s strong grip.

“You can take it.” Jaemin says with demand, moving in and out with measured strokes, the tip of his cock leaking maddeningly.

“And you will.” Jeno finishes saying for him, firm hold continuing to restrain your wrists as his free hand circles your throat.

Jaemin blinks back tears, half-upset that he can feel his climax approaching. Snapping quick jabs of his length as he chases after the peak of pleasure, he bites down on your shoulder roughly, nipping the skin hard enough to hurt. “G-gonna cum—“

He grunts out, thrusts becoming more harsh and erratic forcing Jeno to halt his movements, allowing you to be fucked down by the harsh thrusts Jaemin pounds into you with.

“P-please Alpha—wan-want it!”

Jaemin yells, pumping his hips up sloppily a few more times, cock pulsing with hot spurts filling your ass. Quietly moaning with his head dropped, not even able to hold himself up anymore.

Jeno gently pushes his shoulders back, scooping you by the waist with one arm, cock slipping out as he shifts away to reposition you.

“Just a little more for me?” He can’t guarantee he’s not lying, under the heavy spell of sex pollen coursing through his veins. Turning you on your back, he adjusts between your thighs to seeth his cock fully back inside, savoring the heat blanketed around him yet again. “How—how are you still so so tight.”

The Alpha would guess you’re a virgin if he didn’t remember last summer when he found you in a jacuzzi alone with some guy nowhere near your league, bikini bottoms floating away with guilt stained across your face.

“Should’ve been me,” he murmurs, quick to capture your lips and thrust fast, but short, cock mostly inside. Too addicted to the feeling of your walls sucking around him.

“K-knot me, please, please please, Alpha please.” Your lips tremble as you plead, making it impossible for him to refuse. Not that he would, reaching between your bodies to rub figure eight’s around your swollen clit, he groans, fucking faster on the brink of orgasm.

“Can you take it?” He asks, only to see you nod maniacally, biting down on the backs of his teeth with a wrinkled skewed forehead the more he exerts himself to pinch your clit in succession with his rapid jerky thrusts. “Take all of it for me pup, it’s all for you.”

Coming to an abrupt stop he twitches harshly, cock beating against your insides with the first shot of cum bursting free, painting a mess of white inside with the tip of his cock pressed up to your cervix. “Ahhh!—“ Jeno’s lips curl in, struggling to breathe properly as the base of his cock swells painfully and he has to push in deeper, push in the feel as much of your hot tight cunt kissing at his knot.

“Ugh!” Slick streams out, splashing against the enlarged base of his length keeping all of his cum trapped inside. The possibilities of being full of pup spiraling through the both of you, pushing another shot of pleasure out of your tired body.

“Fuck.” He sighs, wet hand moving to hold the back of your neck and take in your fucked out face, take in your wide dreamy gaze. Envisioning how perfect a future between the two of you could be.

Even if this whole thing was some freak accident, his Alphas never felt this elated, full of life and love. “Mate.” He says with a grind, knot pushing against your sore tender entrance, having tears sting behind your eyes.

“I’ll take care of you.” He whispers, kissing down from your cheekbone to your chin, gently sucking at your jawline before he makes way to your neck. “And you’ll belong to me, only me.”

Possessiveness burns through his heart, beating faster as he takes in your scent gland and pulls at the thin chain around your neck too roughly, snapping the metal for his nose to graze freely. His teeth itch with need, licking at his canines the more they throb up to his gums and his wolf howls to bite.

Do it.

Bite her.

Our Omega.

“Alpha..” you say weakly, eyes drifting shut from the exhaustion of heat and the overbearing scent of Alpha seeping from your pores.

“Omega.” He hums, licking up the column of your throat only to lick back down again, willing himself to not bury his teeth in. “My perfect Omega.”

Even half-passed out, your body responds, heat sucking around his length earning a deep rumble from his chest, he hisses, grazing higher for his teeth to scratch closer to your nape.

“Please..”

Jeno thinks his minds playing tricks on him, head full of clouds as he bites down just hard enough to leave a mark and not break the skin completely. It seems to be enough, for now, to satiate both of your wolves. The tension leaves his spine as he relaxes against you, nose firmly tucked against your scent gland.

“I’d give you the world if you asked.” He mumbles, eyes drifting shut for no more than a few minutes as his knot finally goes down enough to at least shift onto his side.

Jaemin grumbles, slowly coming back to, no doubt wanting to fuck again. “Move.” He says from behind Jeno, sitting up only to come to a halt as the door slams up streaking light from the other room over your figures.

“Get off of her!” Mark shouts, spit flying from his mouth as he grabs Jeno’s shoulders and rips the larger Alpha away with strength that can only be fueled by rage.

Protective instinct takes over, throwing his jacket down before anyone can get a look at you. “Haechan, give me your hoodie!”

Haechan rushes to unzip himself and quickly hand over the baggy hood, your brother fast to wrap you up safely before lifting your exhausted body and shooting a glare at his friends. “I’ll deal with you two later.”

———————————————

After a long talk involving a ton of yelling and crying, Mark finally decided to let it go; having to accept that maybe you aren’t a baby anymore.

“You’re still my baby sister though and you always will be.” He grumbles, tugging you close to his chest with an arm around your neck.

“Always.”

“And..” he sighs, releasing you to give you a stern look. “I don’t think I can handle you dating one of my friends quite yet.”

“Markkk!” You whine, smacking his arm. “I already told you!”

“Yeah yeah, I know, it’s not like that.” He says sarcastically, throwing up quotations. “But it’s going to be weird now regardless, I mean..”

“You think so?”

“I don’t think any normal person can go through what the three of you went through and..”

“Well they’re coming over in a bit to help set up the new console system so.. I guess we’ll find out.”

Mark sighs, running a hand through his hair repeatedly. “If they make you feel uncomfortable—“

“They won’t.” You cut him off, smacking his shoulder. “Don’t forget they’re still your best friends who have done nothing other than respected me and done their best to take care of me too.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever.” He grumbles. “But if either of them do anything to step out of line!”

“Yes yes, you’ll—“ you deepen your tone, glaring at him venomously. “KICK THEIR ASS!”

“Pft.”

Three knocks rattle against the front door before you and your brother can get into a back and forth mockery of each other, shoving him aside as you yell out that you got it. “Go away!” You add quickly, shooing him to exit the living room area.

“Whatever.” Mark murmurs, flipping you off on his way out.

Taking a deep breath you open the door to greet Jaemin and Jeno, both standing side by side nervously, scratching their necks and shifting from foot to foot. “Hey!”

“H-hey..” Jeno speaks up first, clearing his throat and nodding at you as he steps in.

“Mark’s in the kitchen, I think.” You say, motioning to the 6-pack of Diet Coke tucked under his arm.

“Oh, yeah..” Jeno shifts back on his heels nervously, eyeing Jaemin who makes no effort to move. “I’ll go put this in the fridge real quick.”

His gaze passes between the two of your wearily, wishing that Jaemin had been the one carrying the drinks now. “Be right back.” He says, skillfully darting his eyes to the younger's face in silent warning before you notice.

“Hey pup, come here,” Jaemin draws you back from following after the other Alpha, pointed teeth on display with a large smile. “You feeling okay today? After everything..”

“I’m fine Jaem.” You force a smile, straightening up at the trickle of sweat rolling down your back the more you fail to create space between your bodies.

“You don’t seem fine.” He steps closer, reaching to push loose strands of hair behind your ear. “I’m sorry if—“

“There’s nothing to be sorry about, if anything you guys saved me.. pollen, it’s—“

“You saved us too.” Jaemin corrects, adding a small smile. “Not really the circumstance I ever imagined we’d do something like that, but, I wanted to let you know..”

Taking a step back he sighs, scratching down the center of his throat nervously. “I really—“

“Hey, Jaem, can I get a minute?” Jeno returns, jogging over seemingly short of breath as he pats the younger Alphas arm and nods toward the hallway. “Could you go help Mark start to unbox everything? We’ll be there in a bit, I just need to talk to her in private first.”

“Uhm..“ Jaemin’s eyes go wide, lips tightened into a thin line nearly disappearing as he silently fumes and wills the urge to shout away. “I was about to—“

“Great, thanks.” Jeno nods, smiling and striking down heavy pats on his shoulders before proceeding to direct him out of the room. “We’ll be in soon.”

Jaemin sports a hard smile, teeth gritted together as he waves and nods. “Sure.”

Jeno’s palms clasps together, motioning for the two of you to sit once alone. “I really wanted to apologize.”

“Jeno, it’s fine, seriously.” You start, waving off cooly. “Like I was telling Jaemin, everything that happened was out of our control, you know?”

“Not about that.” Jeno reaches into his pocket, drawing free a thin squared box draped with black velvet. “Everything that happened feels like such a blur..”

Leaning in closer he clicks the box open, a beaming crystal Evenstar pendant identical to the one missing from your neck shines, the Alphas fingers lifting the silver chain attached to show you. “I broke your necklace..”

“You did?!” Letting out a surprised gasp you reach to grab the chain from him, only for the Alpha to move away and shake his head.

“Let me.” Jeno shifts to sit behind you, gathering your hair to one side to expose your neck, breath caught upon seeing the light marks his teeth left behind. “I really am sorry about that.”

“The necklace? It’s okay, I’m sure it wasn’t on purpose.”

Jeno hums, pulling the chain around to lock in at your nape. “Yeah..” the tips of his fingers trace over the bite marks, sighing before placing a gentle kiss. “You’ll let me make it up to you, right?”

Twisting around to get a proper look at the Alpha, your eyebrows lift confused, tilting your head to take in the hint of distress pulling his lips into a pout. “What’s wrong?”

“I feel bad about what happened in that room.” He says, gaze lowered. “Like we took advantage of you or—“

“You didn’t.” Boldly, you cup his cheeks to keep his eyes on yours, giving him a gentle smile. “It’s weird but even after that I feel nervous around you.”

“I do too.” Jeno sighs, relaxed under the warmth of your palms pressed to his cheeks. “It’s because I like you.” He blinks rapidly, swallowing as he forces his gaze to return to yours. “I like you in a way that would probably get Mark’s ass locked up for attempted murder.” He laughs to lighten his mood, sensing a bubble of worry beginning to erupt in his gut.

“Really?”

Jaemin clears his throat, entering back through the hallway that Jeno had banished him to exit from earlier. “You two done yet? Mark’s getting tired of waiting and we already opened everything up.”

Hands fall away from Jeno’s face abruptly, shooting up to stand upon spotting the other Alpha. “Oh yeah! Sorry sorry.”

The older grumbles, getting up to stay by your side and glare at his friend pointedly. “You could have started without us.”

Racing ahead, you miss the whispers passing between them, more paranoid that your brother could be suspicious of how long you’ve been alone with one of his friends.

“You really have a death wish huh?” Jaemin snickers, bumping into the older Alphas shoulder as he leans in to whisper. “Or maybe you really wanna see Mark behind bars for that attempted murder.”

The two continue to appraise each other throughout the day, mindful of every move the other makes before Mark warns them when you head to the bathroom to ‘Knock it off before I rip one of your stupid Alpha heads off and punt you into the afterlife.’

“Don’t think I’m just going to allow either of you to fuck my sister now because of this.” He says quietly before you come back in and sit down besides Jaemin, toying with your new pendant.

Jeno smiles, admiring how much you seem to enjoy the new necklace. “Oh, I thought you lost this.”

“Jeno bought me a new one.” You mumble, quickly throwing the Alpha a smile.

Jaemin reaches to hold the pendant, frowning as he steals a glance at Jeno. “Or, maybe you’re more bold than I assumed. A real rule breaker, willing to spend a lot to win..”

“What?” You ask, half paying attention out of fear of your brother’s wrath if he catches you staring at either of his friends too long.

Jeno smirks at the younger Alpha, leaning back against the couch with a cocked eyebrow. “Are you? ‘Cause if you’re not.. you better run..”

Jaemin glowers back at him, whispering quietly. “One way to find out.”

#jeno smut #jaemin smut #na jaemin smut #lee jeno smut #nct smut #nct dream smut #kpop smut #nct fanfiction #nct dream fanfiction #kpop fanfiction #neopuppy fics

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teddybeartoji · 2 months

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THE LITTLE LAMB AND THE BIG BAD WOLF

on a hunt for supplies, you stumble across someone's belongings. a little bit of theft is fine, right? the cold barrel of a gun at your temple says otherwise.

☆. contains: toji fushiguro x gn!reader; apocalypse au; horror, detailed descriptions of blood and death, slow burn, crack, reader is simultaneously a scaredy-cat and a baddie, toji looks scary oh nooo

☆. word count: 6k

☆. note: the world is based on tlou!!! i am soooo into this fucking concept like i'm officially sucking my own dick here. tagging my beloveds @staryukis & @awearywritersworld bc omfg apocalypse ideas!!!!!! and also @dollsuguru @venusiansilk @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat @mossmurdock i love you guys so so much thank you for all your support<3333333

+ here's the masterlist

in a world so fucked up – it's easy to get lost in the darkness.

when the infection took over, everything changed. everything. people aren't people anymore – they've become hosts for a type of fungus known as the cordyceps. it grows all over the brain and takes control of the body, turning the person into something they're not.

if anyone were to ask you how many have you killed, infected or not, you'd be devoid of an answer.

it's hard to find your way when just about everything is out to get you. infected or not – there's always something ready to tear you into pieces, to sink their teeth into your soft flesh – that's just the way things are now.

but you're used to it. used to the feeling of adrenaline pumping in your veins as you run from a horde, used to the feeling of a blade at your throat, used to the feeling of a punch, of a slap. used to the constant grumble in your stomach, used to the sore legs and shoulders, used to cleaning off blood from yourself and your clothes, from your weapons. you're used to the gurgling and clicking, the crying and sobbing, the begging and pleading.

but no matter how much you tell yourself that you've grown used to the horrors of the new world, you cannot escape the anxiety that hides under every inch of your skin. it's always with you – holding your clammy hand as it drags you into the depths, into the shadows. you try to fight it but it's hard.

it's hard forcing away the only thing that holds you so tight, the only thing that truly cares for you. it's is a suffocating blanket that hides you from the cruelty of the world, trying its best to shelter you from it all. it's better to stay inside. it's better to stay away. they're going to hurt you. something is here. just stay here with me, under the warm blanket. they're coming. it's going to hurt. let's stay here forever.

don't you want it to stop?

being torn apart by the cold crippling fear and the warm rotting hands – it's getting harder and harder to breathe. but you've learned how to keep them at bay over the years; always in the line of sight, always on your mind. there's no rest for the wicked.

moonlight leads the way as you make your way to a shopping mall. the wind howls in your ears and sends a shiver down your spine. moss and ivy cover the walls of the massive building, swallowing it bit by bit, making it a part of the nature as the time passes.

the axe in your hand feels heavy, but right nonetheless. the handle is stained with blood; it has seeped deep into the wood and now acts as an extra weight to the blade. a small 9mm handgun sits pretty in the holster around your thigh, a knife hides in its leather sheath on your belt, a bow rests on your shoulder and a few arrows peek from your bag.

despite the armory, your bag hasn't been this empty in a while. the blame falls on a group of men you ran into a week or so back. precious ammo and resources were spent on the bastards, and while the blood reward was good - the lack of food and meds is now becoming concerning. your shoulder still hurts from the fall, a big dark bruise transforming your skin into a painting of the midnight sky.

you shake the flashlight on the strap of your backpack and listen to the batteries bounce around inside it. you give it a stronger shake and it turns on. the broken glass shines as you carefully step inside the big atrium and take a look around. your little light forces back the creeping shadows, now showcasing you the infected bodies that lay dead on the ground before you.

pools of blood conflux together and paint the tiles a dark shade of maroon; the ichor flows in between the cracks and disappears under the soles of your boots when you step further inside. they're fresh. light reflects off the liquid as you squat down to take a closer look. none of the three bodies seem to have bullet wounds – one of the runner has a slit throat while the other leaks from a hole in the side of the head and the clicker... it's head has been completely bashed in, making it hard to even recognize it as one.

beating up a clicker is not easy by any means; though the fungus growing on their face and head blinds them, it also acts almost like armor. they can take a bullet to the head and still keep coming – the call of death rippling through their body as they run at you, hands reaching out to grab, to pull, to hold.

the fact that they did this, either with their bare hands or some other blunt object, just means that they're good. it also begs the question whether they didn't have the bullets to spare or they simply decided not to use them. you just hope you won't bump into them.

standing up, you take another look around. a trail of bloody footsteps leads right up the escalators and you decide that you won't be going there yet. there are a few more bodies, two runners, sitting limp against the crumbling walls as you step down one of the hallways. the broken tiles and the glass cracks below your feet and you cringe at the noise.

never letting go of the axe in your hand, you stroll past the first stores seeing as they're completely ran through. with a sigh, you make your way over to one of the clothing stores. it's almost pitch black in there and you almost jump out of your skin when a mannequin suddenly falls at your feet. muttering out a row of whispered curses, you lower your axe with a shaky breath and adjust your flashlight. the shelves are pretty empty but that was expected; still, when you open up a cupboard door under one of the mannequin stands, you find a stack of perfectly fine sweatshirts. you check the other side of the piece of furniture and find... nothing. scoffing to yourself, you just bag the a sweatshirt and a pair of pants from another shelf before moving to the next store.

glass breaks and you hear shuffling – head whipping towards the sounds, fingers tightly gripping the axe, you take a step back and bump right into the shelf behind you. pieces of clothing fall onto the floor and a cloud of dust rises from the impact; you pay it no mind as your eyes are still glued to the counter, to where the noise came from, but when after a few second absolutely nothing jumps at you, you let your shoulders relax a little.

a stalker, maybe? but they don't tend to live in open spaces like malls, or so you think at least. the majority of them you've ran into in places like office floors and a fucked up basements – meaning they like to lurk everywhere where it's extra dark and where there are places to hide behind. yeah, they do that. little shits, taking cover behind desks and walls, playing a game of hide and seek that you never agreed to. you're never forgiving yourself for taking that wretched route.

you peek over the counter and look all around it but find jack shit. it's the darkness – it's what it does to you, to everybody. the shadows start to speak and move, the floors creak and crumble, and the growths on the wall whisper your name, no matter, how much you tell yourself that they aren't actually doing any of that that.

it's just the old building crying out from loneliness, the haunted ghosts simply looking for company as people pass by, as the infected pass by. you have to keep your head straight. faint blood marks stain the floor but it's too hard to tell whether those've been there for years or less.

you hastily knock on your flashlight when it begins to flicker, leaving you in the dark for just a blink but it's enough to have your heart thumping loudly in your ribcage.

making your way out of the store, you scour for your next location and ah-ha!

a pharmacy.

two bottles of antibiotics rattle in your bag but those aren't enough. you'll always need more of those, you'll always need more of gauze, painkillers, of everything – going in there is a must.

a metal roll-up door closed mid way is going to make this harder, but as if that isn't ominous enough – the quiet cries coming from behind it only makes the situation worse. a runner. but luckily, it isn't making too much noise and you make an educated guess of it not moving around. they do that when there's nothing to catch and tear apart, when nothing has caught their attention. they stay in random spots and whimper and cry to themselves. it makes them an easy prey.

the thought of the metal door sliding shut just as you're trying to pass under it, is making your stomach churn. and so is the thought of you making too much noise by accident and attracting the runner when you're still down on the ground. stop being a pussy. there could be emergency kits in there, pills, there could be a feast of medications in there and you're holding back. it's unacceptable.

you slowly kneel down to the cold floor and inhale sharply before lowering yourself further down. the only light in the room is yours and it immediately finds the twitching runner.

it is cowering in the corner.

you're just fucking glad they don't react to light as much as they do to noise, otherwise you'd be fucked already.

you crawl in the dust as quietly as you can, careful to not touch any of the furniture beside you that seems to be holding up the door. the last thing you'd want is to get locked in here. or get cut in half. you clench your teeth and push yourself up and to your knees the second you can do so and take a second, as you wait for him to turn around and lunge at you. but he doesn't. his back is still turned to you as he waits for you, sobs for you; his body trembling, hands folded in front of his chest – almost like he's hugging himself.

quietly holstering the axe, you pull out your knife instead. it's quieter. you grip the handle, fingers molding into the dents that have formed over time. another step and the light goes out. it's complete darkness. you hear your own heartbeat in your ears and the miserable cries of the infected just a few feet away. your eyes widen as you try to focus on your surroundings. your hands grow clammy in a matter of a few seconds and panic seeps into your body.

you shake the flashlight a few times and it turns back on. your breath is still stuck in your throat as you try to compose yourself. stupid old thing. the light paints the runner's shadow onto the wall in front of him, making it look like he's a part of some shadow play.

one more step and you're with him, a breath away. your hand goes around his chest, holding his hands and body in place as you sink your blade into his neck. it sinks into skin and flesh like butter, soaking you in the dark red ichor that hides underneath as he gurgles something at you (a thank you perhaps).

yanking the knife back out, the splattering ichor coats your skin and you immediately wipe it off against your shirt. his body falls with a thud! and another big dust cloud rises from the contact and your nose itches— it's— it itches— achoo!

your eyes are an inch away from escaping your head as you spin around, making sure that nothing is jumping at you for making a noise that loud. but surely enough, nothing seems to be interested. exhaling deeply, you rub your nose and force down the embarrassment that's crawling on your skin before starting your hunt for supplies.

it doesn't go as well as you'd hoped – only bagging a few stitching kits and a bottle of painkillers. better than nothing.

ecstatic to get the fuck out of a closed, pitch black room, you crawl back out from under the metal door and dust off your clothes.

strolling through some more stores, you're met with more dead infected. two clickers and two runners, no bullet holes. ignoring the corpses, you manage to find yourself a few nice t-shirts, a pack of boxers and a box of 9mm handgun ammo from under the cash register.

when you've gone through most of the wrecked stores on the first floor, you finally decide to take a look upstairs. the bloody footprints haven't left your mind but the fact that it's been so quiet, makes you think that maybe they did really just pass through here.

the moon light your way as you drag yourself up the escalator. the stars in the sky are barely visible because of the dirt on the ceiling window and you frown.

in front of you there are two hallways with stores on the sides and in the middle. the prints lead to the left side and towards the a lonely door at the end of the coridor; the signs on the walls don't indicate what room it might be – a security one, maybe? shaking your head, you focus on the stores ahead of you. the shop in the center is a big sports one; most of the mannequins have fallen over and their limbs are scattered all over the floor, pairless sneakers rest on top of each other and the shelves are a push away from collapsing into tiny little pieces.

stepping over the bloody clothes, you view the baseball caps on the rack when your light goes out again. you feed on the faint moonlight that's coming from the hallways as you scramble to shake the thing again. steps, you swear you heard steps. the last standing mannequins stare at you from the shadows, laughing at your misfortune. a hand touches your hip and you can't hold back the yelp that slips from your lips. you turn and bump into another statue. the light flickers three times before it actually turns on and you find yourself inches from an eerie smile. intinctively, you give it a firm push as you take a step back, hands shaking as the panic settles down once more.

no one else is here. you can't see whoever could've made the noise and by now you're sure that if something or someone is really hiding in the dark – it would've already made a move if it wanted to. stalkers don't play for that long and neither do humans.

a row of protein bars hide in a drawer in the staff room of the store and you happily throw them in your bag, along with some weird looking granola bars.

the right side of the second floor only offers you a new lighter, three pairs of socks, a can of soda, a simple necklace and a broken watch. what's the point of it if you can't tell time? it looks cool. no other reason.

heading over to the left side of the building, you keep a keen eye on the door. the remaining shops are forgotten the closer you get to where the prints lead and you officially commit to checking out the place.

the blade of your axe shines in the moonlight, your steps extra light as you creep up on the door. readying your weapon, you press down on the handle and quietly push it open. it swings all the way and thumps against the wall. the room is lit up, the windows letting in the natural light. you're greeted with rows of computer and tv screens on the tables, three black duffel bags and some lockers and cabinets next to the walls.

you check the corners of the room and let out a relieved sigh when you don't find anything hiding. closing the door, you carefully step around the broken glass on the floor. it seems to be originating from what used to be a glass case showcasing various medals. awards for the best security guards. how silly that sounds now.

the lockers have been cleared out, the only things left behind being two lovely couple's phots with hand-drawn hearts above their heads. you leave them there. the cabinets don't have anything good either. you glance back at the door for good measure before kneeling down in front of one of the bags on the ground. you pull the zipper and are met with treasure – multiple bars of chocolate, the same sweatshirt you found from the floor below, various cans of canned food, two water bottles and a small knife.

your eyes glint and the corners of your lips twitch upward, your body has a mind of its own as it immediately reaches for the chocolate. glass breaks and your eyes flick to the now ajar door as you reach for the gun on your thigh but when you feel the cold metal of a gun barrel resting against your temple... you freeze.

"don't."

...

your stomach drops, eyes glued to the bag in front of you. the voice is deep and it's rasp, confident and sure of himself; the metal against you doesn't move, it doesn't shake.

you hold your trembling hands out, fingers spread to show that you don't have any intention of grabbing your weapons. a deep breath in and a deep one out. you try to turn your head towards him but he just presses the gun deeper into your skin, forcing your gaze right back down.

his big stature looms over your smaller one and you feel like an ant that's about to be stepped on. he lets you soak in the threatening silence, the only sound being your own racing heartbeat.

"s'rude to steal, y'know."

the man doesn't sound angry, he doesn't sound mad or upset. he sounds... annoyed, if anything.

"i asked you a question."

shit.

"i– i wasn't stealing." you stammer out.

he scoffs. "wasn't stealing? just fondling my shit for fun then?"

the teasing tone makes your eyebrows furrow and you try to turn to look at him again, your body slightly raising from your knees but the gun on your head keeps you down. funny, how heavy a piece of metal can suddenly feel.

"it was empty in here! i didn't know these belonged to anyone! i–i'm sorry! i'll leave, i'll leave!" it's a pathetic slur of words accompanied by a pleading tone and you hope that it'll do the trick.

there are strategies for dealing with people and this is simply one of them.

and it does work because the next thing you know, he's lowering the weapon. you let out a shaky breath before turning to him and fuck.

he's... terrifying.

towering over your kneeling body, he's massive. big chest and broad shoulders, he looks like he could snap your neck with his bare hands. the moonlight is only making him more menacing – his dark hair falls in front of his eyes as he stares down at you; there's a scar on his lips and streaks of blood cover his skin, from his cheek to his jaw and down his neck.

dark clothes and a dark jacket – he looks like he belongs in the shadows. the fact that you didn't hear him until it was already too late is making your skin crawl. he probably only let you hear him. for the fun of it.

the terrified look on other's faces can be addicting. the big eyes and the wobbling lips; how they shake and beg – you're no stranger to it, you've had your moments, too.

other than the gun in his hand, there's a second one holstered around his big thigh just like you do. a serrated knife sits his belt and it keeps winking at you, the flashlight reflecting from it as you pull in big breaths of air.

"you're saying i oughta just let you go?" he scoffs, yanking you from your thoughts.

"please..." your stomach grumbles on cue, helping you look meeker than you really are.

you're sure you just saw him wince as he squats down beside you but the thought is brushed away immediately when the man cocks his head to the side and scratches his temple with the barrel of the gun. his scarred lips stretch into a big wolfish grin, showing off his sharp canines and his eyes glint from behind the black strands of hair, making him even scarier now. the big bad wolf.

he's taking you apart with his eyes, dissecting you and your thoughts with a smug expression while you're fending off the waves of fear and try to look as composed as you can. though you feel like it isn't working at all.

"d'ya find anything good from the pharmacy?"

"why were you stalking me?" your bark comes out sharper than you intended and his eyebrows raise an inch, eyes shining with something teasing.

"kind of hard to miss ya when you're making so much noise, sweetheart. and yer in my spot, anyway." he sigh with an eye-roll.

your lips part in a small gasp. "i was not making that much noise! and– and what do you mean 'your spot'? it's a fucking mall, i need things, too!"

"clearly." he motions to the duffel bag resting at your feet and you swallow your next snarky comment.

"sorry."

"what was that?"

just glaring at him, you hate how amused he seems. the fear in you dissipating fast and something akin to annoyance is starting to grow in it's stead.

"i didn't even fucking take anything!"

body leaning forward, fists balled up and eyes on fire – he's thoroughly entertained by your barking and you immediately purse your lips.

"relax, little lamb, will ya? tell me... what'd you find in there?"

you scrunch your nose at the stupid nickname. despite how non-threatening he's being right now - you're still planning on running. you'll give him whatever he wants and you're getting the fuck out of here.

"nothing much. stitching kits and painkillers."

he's hums disappointedly and you can't help but wonder why. is he looking for something in particular? is he hurt? "what do you need?"

"forget it."

"i have antibiotics, if that's what you need."

at that, his ears perk up. "is that so?"

you nod at him.

"well, c'mon then, show me what ya got."

you stare at him for a moment before peeling off one backpack strap. you pull the bag onto your lap and feel his heavy gaze on you as you dig around the thing. it doesn't take you long to find the right bottle, pulling it out and handing it to him.

the floor creaks and it has you both turning towards the sound in an instant. he has the door in his sights but nothing is there. your heart is hammering in your chest again and you can taste the bitter anxiety in the back of your throat again.

you've never seen anyone hold their gun so steady as he does. no shake, no tremble; he's not even really squeezing the thing, he's just holding it. there's no pressure, no anxiety – it's simply an extension to his body. he's comfortable with it, and he looks good with it. a bead of sweat rolls from his temple and mixes with the drying blood on his skin before disappearing under his clothes.

his breathing is normal, he's calm as he lowers the gun back down and starts observing the bottle in his other hand. your eyes are still on the door, still wary of the ghosts that lurk around.

the man squints his eyes at the miniature text on the bottle in the dark and you hold back a laugh.

"need me to read it for you, old man?"

"watch your mouth." it's playful at best, no real sternness behind it whatsoever and it makes you roll your eyes. you're about to ask what he actually needs the pills for but something in the corner of your eye draws your attention.

a pair of dull, grey eyes. staring right back at you. dark veins run all over her face and neck, her shoulders and her hands and she peeks from behind the doorframe.

one second. no more, no less. your sharp intake of air gets his attention just as the stalker lunges from the dark hallway, but she is met with a hole in her forehead before she can even take a proper step inside.

small pieces of brain splatter onto the wall behind her and she falls limp to the ground just a few feet from you. he's waiting for another one to pop up, his eyes still glued to the door and you know that this is your moment. he has the meds, so he shouldn't chase you down anyway. you have to go now.

scrambling up from your knees, you try to speed past him but immediately choke when the collar of your own sweatshirt sharply cuts into your airways. his grip on the material is strong and he pulls you right back into him, back into his arms. he's mere inches from your face but before he can do anything else – he feels a blade against his throat.

you really aren't the little lamb he thought you were.

he's comparing you to a feral cub in his head – big wild eyes, snarling and showing your teeth, trying to act tougher than you are, but when the sharp edge of your blade sinks deeper into his skin, he realizes that maybe you're not actually in over your head.

he already expected you to run, he was waiting for that but he thought it'd end up with you you crying and begging or something. he didn't see this coming – you're definitely craftier than he thought, faster too.

"now... why would you do that-"

you don't let him finish. "are you gonna hurt me?"

"you're the one with the knife at my throat. i should be asking you that." he rolls his eyes as your knife grazes the soft skin below his adam's apple and you're thinking about actually cutting him just out of annoyance.

"you have the pills, why not let me go?" you bark back.

"you're hungry, aren't ya?" he questions calmly. his gun hand is lowered, he's not pointing it at you but his other hand stays on your back, fingers still digging into your sweatshirt. it's warm, his body is warm.

"so what? you gonna feed me like some stray cat?"

"y'don't want to eat?" he deadpans.

...

you bite into the soft flesh of your inner cheek. of fucking course, you want to eat.

"y'can take two cans from the bag. i mean, y'were eyeing them anyway."

"why?"

"for being my entertainment tonight."

the blade on his throat finally draws blood and a drop of it runs down his skin, disappearing under his shirt.

"i oughta kill you for putting a gun at my head."

"yeah?" he cocks his head closer to you, the blade moving with him, making a few more droplets dribble from the tiny wound. "go for it, sweetheart."

his eyes are green. they're green like the leaves that sprout from between the cracks in the asphalt on a sunny day, green like the moss that flourishes on the trees in the forest, green like the ivy that is trying to swallow the world. you feel his heart beat a; calm and steady while yours is amped from the sudden proximity. he sounds so arrogant, like he knows you're not going to hurt him.

(you aren't.)

when you lower the knife to push at his broad chest with a scoff instead, he lets you. his hand falls from you as you take a step back, your face now illuminated by the moonlight. scars litter your skin, bumps and cuts – just like him.

"are you done?"

you hum with a pouty lip and put away your knife, eyes following his figure as he holsters his gun before picking up the fallen pill bottle. when he steps by you, he plucks your flashlight from its place on the backpack strap with way too much ease and proceeds to head over to one of the duffel bags that sits on the table behind you, carefully stepping over the broken glass on the floor.

"hey!"

he shushes you and your fists tighten beside your body. you look at the dead body that lays next to the door with a perfectly centered hole in her forehead. the blood pools around it, soaking her clothes and the ground below her.

you used to think about the infected more, used to ponder about how long they've been like that and whether the person they used to be is still... in there.

it doesn't matter.

you've come across people, who talk about not wanting to kill them – what if they really are still in there? but isn't that exactly why one should kill them? you can't even begin to think about how it'd feel to be stuck inside your own body as the infection takes over, making you into something you're not. how it'd force you to tear your loved ones apart just for the sake of it, how you'd turn into a bigger monster with every passing day, every passing second. you just hope that if you were to get infected, you'd still have the mind to end it. or have somebody do it for you.

you don't want to end up like her.

"i didn't realize there were stalkers here." you mumble to yourself as you tear your eyes from her. "other than you, of course. fucking creep."

he starts digging around in one of the bags and you take the moment to really observe him. his back is almost twice your size and you're sure his one bicep is bigger than your whole head.

the man scoffs. "thought i got them all but... oh, well. should've let ya handle it – was your fault anyway."

"how the fuck was that my fault?" your voice raises at his claim and you regret it, knowing exactly what his response will be.

"you are fucking loud, sweetheart."

"fuck you."

he just hums out a mhmmm. he pulls a piece of paper out of his bag and uses your flashlight to examine the text on it. his eyes. he waves at you over his shoulder. "you know where the cans are."

simply scoffing as a reply, you kneel back down to the bag but his voice cuts in again.

"and don't you dare take that chocolate." he doesn't even turn around, completely focused on comparing the information on the paper to the info on the bottle of pills. you roll your eyes again and curse him under your breath. "i wasn't gonna take your stupid fucking chocolate..."

when you've bagged your goodies, you push yourself up again. the trees dancing in the wind outside catch your eye, they look so carefree. just living from the sun and the moon and the rain, they have nothing to fear. nobody will harm them, no infected, no people. you can't wait for nature to take back everything it deserves. the cities and the buildings; it'll swallow the corpses and the living alike and you're happy for her.

he rustles with the paper, twisting it around a few times and you're about to ask what he's looking for but he cuts you off.

"why not make a run for it earlier?"

you stare at his back with a confused look. "what do you mean?"

"you gave me the pills and then tried to run. antibiotics are hard to find, y'know." he sounds curious. or patronizing.

"i know that... i had to wait for the right moment." you admit, fiddling with your fingers. "i was going to give them to you anyway, old man."

"not a lot going on in that little head of yours, huh?"

...

you let his audacity waft over you before biting back. "oh, i'm sorry... for... being a... good person?"

he turns around and leans his ass against the table, folding his arms over his big chest as he mocks you with his annoying smug grin. "i pointed a gun at you and you still wanna share your little precious belongs with me? that's cute, i guess."

"yeah. you just look like you fucking need them, alright...."

"so, you agree that you're a fucking idiot?"

your lips part in shock. "hey! look– do you want anything else or can i go now?"

"can i have my flashlight back?"

"no."

"wha— " you take a step toward the man and he raises his brows. "but it's mine! how do you expect me to go outside without it?"

"no manners whatsoever."

huh?

your jaw drops again. "excuse me? wha– what's that supposed to mean?"

"first, i catch you stealing— "

"i already apologized for that— "

"—then you try to kill poor old little me, and now you're asking for things without the magic word... tsk-tsk-tsk." he closes his eyes and shakes his head in disappointment.

"i'm not gonna fucking beg for my own flashlight back, bitch."

...

he barks out a laugh.

a loud one, from deep within his stomach. his head falls back and a pout forms on your lips, heat crawls up your neck involuntarily and you avert your gaze. "you're terrible, just terrible, sweetheart."

he takes your prized light and tosses it to you before pulling out his own from behind his back. you flip him off. "funny though, i'll give ya that..."

you grumble a yeah, thanks under your breath as he blinks the light at you twice. "may i go now?"

he stares at you before answering. "yes, you're dismissed."

at that, you knock your heels together and sharply bring your right hand to your temple – imitating a military salutation. "yes, sir!"

something sweet.

he tastes something sweet on his tongue. he wipes the drying blood from his neck and his cheeks hurt.

you're some random feral cub and yet, you've peaked his interest like nothing else. no cries and no wails, no begging and no tears – scared but alive. ready to part with valuable meds just because he apparently looks like he needs them. tch! growling at him even though he's caught you red handed, cutting him even though you weren't in danger anymore.

he hasn't felt this alive in a long time, either.

"don't let me see you again, old man."

playful, at best. you're matching his tone and the corners of his lips are reaching back behind his ears. you bite your inner cheek; despite everything – he's the most normal person you've met since the end of the world. he's not mean nor is he aggressive; everybody points a gun at a stranger these days. he made jokes and he gave you supplies – it's more than anyone has done for you in a while.

you look at the wolf in the shadow and he looks at the lamb in the moonlight. the wolf that offers food and protection and the lamb that cuts and steals.

the wolf that bleeds and the lamb that holds the blade.

535 notes · View notes

arminsumi · 9 months

Note

HELLOOO THERE!! Can I request gojo dating reader because of a bet with suguru and falling for reader, reader doesn’t know and was hurt when they overheard they’re just a bet, angst to fluff pls 🫶🫶🫶

thank youuuu, hope your having a good day!!

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

𝐈𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠

A/N: u have no idea how much i LOVE this idea anon!!! 💗💗💗 i really hope i did it justice 😩

Wc ≈ 1.4k

Pairing: GOJO Satoru x f.reader

Summary: Suguru betted that Gojo could make anyone fall in love with him, even someone who was his complete opposite — like you.

Warnings; angst-to-fluff, angst contents — {self-loathing (Gojo), crying, heartbreak}, a little bit suggestive at the end, kissing/making out

♪ michelle

It was nice while it lasted.

The handholding in public, the stolen cheek kisses, the pampering and spoiling, relishing in the jealous looks thrown your way when he fed you bites of his food in the cafeteria, bathing in Gojo Satoru's affection. A lot of people would have killed for your position, or even a glimpse into what it's like to date your college's biggest heart throb.

You two seemed to really like each other. It was like two mismatched puzzle pieces somehow fitting together — a fascinating connection was shared. No one would have put you and him together, not even Gojo.

The only reason he asked you out in the first place was...

"Suguru, that's such a nasty idea... I love your mind."

"Just don't actually fall in love with her. The whole idea of this bet is that you can prove any girl can fall in love with you, don't forget that."

Gojo had chuckled at this, it seemed so ridiculous.

Why would he actually fall in love with you? You weren't even his type. He never paid you a sparing glance, not at school, not at parties, not around town.

You weren't his type...

So why did his heart start panging excitedly a few months into your 'fake' relationship? Why did he swoon when you fell asleep laid on his chest in his dorm room? Why did he want to kiss you so badly every time he saw your face? Why did he jump like a cat whenever he got a text from you? Why did he kiss you like the world was ending?

And why did he cry when you found out the truth? He looked distraught when Suguru let the secret slip.

Why did Gojo Satoru, the strongest, beg on his knees for you to stay when you were about to walk away?

"Please! I'm so sorry! I know it was so wrong and fucked up — shit I regret it so much — I really like you! I swear to god, I swear on my life!"

You choked on your tears so badly that you could barely talk. "I can't believe you. This is such a fucking horrible th - thing to do to s - someone, Gojo."

He felt so hurt that you went back to calling him Gojo and not Satoru, like you used to when the two of you were just mild acquaintances.

"Don't go!" He almost yelled.

His arms wrapped around your midriff, he slid down like he was too weak to support himself — like his legs went limp. He slid down until he was clinging to your legs. He sobbed with such a genuine-looking crying face that you almost believed it. He wasn't play-crying like he does to get attention or persuade people, he was ugly-crying.

Gojo Satoru, the prettiest boy you ever knew, was an ugly-crier. A string of saliva glistened between his canines, his mouth hung open like a dramatic renaissance portrait of a distraught man. His eyes were pinched so tight that fat tears cascaded out the corners.

"Please don't go!"

⁕⁕⁕

Suguru found his best friend sat in the middle of the campus' main stairs. Desolate. One hand holding up his heavy head. Regretful. eyes closed.

"So it didn't go well?"

Satoru didn't raise his head, but he slowly opened his eyes and looked miserably at the floor. He watched a line of ants.

"It went as horribly wrong as you could imagine." he responded eventually.

Suguru came to sit next to him. "Are you really in love?" he asked him seriously.

"Of course I fucking am! — sorry..." Satoru snapped, then immediately mumbled an apology.

A long summer breeze went by.

"Try again." he suggested, "I'm sure she'll - "

"She fucking hates me."

There was a heavy silence after Satoru said that.

"If I were her, I'd hate me too." Satoru muttered.

Suguru went silent. He felt guilty, after all, he was the one that dared his best friend to do something as stupid as play with your heart.

Satoru watched the ants scurrying along. He felt as puny and weak as one right then. The realization of these feelings themselves are what urged him to abruptly stand up.

"I'm not giving up. I'm gonna explain to her that I really did fall in love — that I really do fucking like her so god damn much it's insane and stupid."

"That's the spirit — where are you going?" Suguru asked curiously as Satoru began heading over to the parking lot.

"I'm gonna go bring her flowers and... stuff..." he replied unsurely.

Will that really work? He wondered to himself.

"But it's gonna rain." Suguru said, "Heyyy, Satoru, listen don't just — ah, there he goes... idiot really fell in love when I warned him not to..." he muttered pitifully.

⁕⁕⁕

There was a knock at your apartment door.

You wrung it open to reveal a heartbroken Gojo Satoru, soaked-through with rain, standing in the downpour, panting while holding onto a bouquet of vividly red roses. You couldn't have witnessed a more dramatic scene in a movie.

His hair was completely flat with wetness. There were raindrops running down his cheeks and dripping off his chin.

On the walk to your apartment, Satoru had mentally written a speech for you.

It was definitely a well-rehearsed heartbroken boy's 'take me back' speech. Flawless and direct. Surely it would have sufficed.

But he didn't say even the first few words of his practiced speech when your door flew open.

All he did was break down crying and fall to his knees right in front of you, like some dramatic actor — except he wasn't acting, you could feel the realness of his regrets and miseries through each sob.

"Satoru..." you looked down at him pitifully. "Come inside, you're gonna get sick." you said tenderly.

For some reason, those very small words communicated more emotions than any form of 'I love you' ever could.

⁕⁕⁕

His pretty nose was slightly upturned. You noticed that when he first kissed you after your third date.

You noticed it again when you observed how red it had become from crying and sneezing.

Wrapping a blanket around him. Drying his hair. Fluffing it with your fingers. Making him some tea. Sitting him down on your bed. Putting on a movie. Letting him curl up into your arms — something he never did when you two were 'dating' because he was convinced he had to show off his dominance to win you over.

All of this together settled the air between you two. But it still didn't explain everything.

"Why'd you do something so dumb?" you asked him half-humorously.

He nibbled and chewed on his lip, eyes on the TV — not really, actually they were looking at your subtle reflection within it.

"I'm an asshole." he admitted.

"You don't say." you chuckled.

He felt bad, and uncurled his body and raised his face to look at you. Satoru never wore a serious expression in all the time you've known him, both as acquaintances and 'lovers' — except for now, which is how you know it's true.

"I wasn't supposed to fall in love with you. Suguru dared me because... well, because it seemed comical. We're opposites, no one would ever put us together right? But he and I thought that was a hilarious challenge. We wanted to see if I could catch you and make you fall in love with me, or something like that..."

He started mumbling his words and refused to look at you.

"Satoru."

"Yeah?"

He reared his head up at you.

"Did it mean something to you, the time we spent this summer?"

He didn't hesitate to respond, "It meant everything." he said.

"Well, then there we go." you said with a little smile.

"Am I being forgiven...?"

"Mhm."

He seemed taken aback and unsure. Was he really being forgiven? Were you reversing the script on him and pulling a trick on him now?

"Does this mean..." he mumbled quietly, "... that I'm allowed to kiss you right now?" he asked nervously, heart panging, eyes giving your lips a longing glance.

"You're such an idiot." you sighed, "Yeah of course it means you can kiss m — mmmf!"

You never managed the rest of your words out, they all got muffled on Satoru's lips. His hand came to cup your right cheek, fingers caressing your skin like you meant everything to him. He tilted his head into the kiss, broke apart for air, dove back in, kissed you feverishly fervently violently eagerly — with so much affection and thankfulness that you almost couldn't breathe due to being smothered.

"Sorry..." he panted after breaking the kiss, bottom lip glistening with saliva. "I'm sorry for breaking a heart as good as yours."

"Just don't do it again." you told him in a whisper.

The poor boy, two days without kissing was really too much for him. He went right back in and kissed you blue, until you gasped and subconsciously wrapped your legs around his slim waist and pulled him closer. His whole body felt hot and eager. You tasted so good, you looked so good, you loved him so good — he decided right there in the back of his mind that he'd marry you after graduation.

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shooting-love-arrows · 6 months

Note

A villian yandere? Not like those cartoon villian but the one that actually make the reader feel fearful, not because the villian is physicaly scary or something but the villian is so cunning, sly and manipulative like the knave from genshin or fyodor from bsd

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄! 𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐍

PAIRING: 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐕𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧 x reader (gender not mentioned/specified/implied) TW. manipulation, isolation, holding reader against her will, stockholm syndrome, dark yandere, flag so red my eyes hurts, unhinge, yandere behavior. A/N: Inspired by manhwas I've read so far. I'm on a roll guys. I didn't expect it to be this long too but man, he's one crazy creation.

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Who isolates you to the point of insanity. It is widely known humans are social creatures and we need social interactions. However, 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐕𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧 used this fact to his advantage. Knowing that after a while people go mad when they don’t interact with other people, he decided to do just that. At first his manipulation is subtle: hidden suggestions about who is right to hand with and who's not. Little yet meaningful words weaved between innocent sentences. Then when he saw his tactics working, he began to get bolder. As the group of people becomes smaller (thanks to him) 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐕𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧 starts to outwardly say they aren't people you should associate with. They are a bad influence and did you know they said this and that behind your back? Real friends don’t do that! He doesn’t do that! That's when comments about how you don't need anyone but him, who always stays by your side and was right about what he told you, each and every time. Your family isn't safe from his doings either. He never fails to drive you away from them. Suddenly they are people who lead you on and make a fool out of you. A black sheep of the family. You just had to see! Before you know it, you are completely alone with only him to talk and listen to.

"I'm just looking out for you like a best friend should be doing." 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐕𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧 wanted to vomit when he said those two, blasted words.

Who snaps and ends up locking you up. Now that you're completed isolated and you happen to start living with him, he locks you up. In a bedroom with a bathroom attached who only has necessities and nothing you could harm yourself with. You can bang, scratch and kick at the door all you want but those doors won't budge. 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐕𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧 is fully prepared. Those doors were expensive but it was worth it. Those locks could be opened by him and the material it was made of could not be so easily destroyed without certain tools you didn’t have. And you're yelling, begging and crying? It is like music to his ears. He'll often sit at the door and listen to you, basking in your voice, and when you're quiet (either pass out from exhaustion or too tired to continue), he'll pick up from where he ended the last time, manipulating you again. His sentences are repetitive and he wants to drill those into your head. He'll tell you how no one is looking for you, how he's all you need, how he'll take care of you and so on...

"Those people want to hurt you. I am doing this for your own good. If you want, I can bring you something? I was thinkng about tamagochi! They are so cut, aren't they?"

Who has to show you some tough love. 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐕𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧 didn’t expect you to realize just how much he loves you. That’s why he tried to be an understanding partner and be forgiving towards your rash and childish tantrums. But he has his limits too. For example, he notices how you don't eat meals he oh so lovingly has prepared for you. If you don’t want to eat, then he won’t force you. He just doesn't bring you food for the next 2-3 days. Only water. And on the fourth day, he'll bring you a proper meal again. Of course, like he expected, you ate it all. See? It’s not hard to act your age. You don’t see it but 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐕𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧 smiled in glee when he saw an empty plate. It's a good sign!

"I'm relieved you like the food I prepared for you. I cooked it for the first time but when I saw the recipe I knew you'd like it."

Who you grow to not only fear and love. He is your captor, the one who took away your freedom and cut all ties with society, who manipulates you and ends up breaking you. Who you feared, despised and cursed like he was the source of all evil. But the longer you stayed in the little room that became your whole world, the lines between hater and love began to blurr. Not that you realized it. At some point something switched in your brain and although you feared him, you began to ponder over his words. Maybe he's right? After this period of time, no one ended up looking for you. No one cared enough to do so. And you do only have him. He always makes time for you, brings you delicious meals, and sometimes even gifts you a little trinkets when you act good. Not to mention you live in a nice bedroom with a bathroom too. He never touched you without your consent or forced you to do anything. You could make a choice to bathe whenever you want, pick one of the books he brought you and read and so on. Your brain was suggesting that he is a caring best friend who takes care of you and protects you from all those monserts that want to hurt and bring you down. Soon enough his actions made your heart speed up.

"I knew you'll love me..." 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐕𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧 teared up when he heard your confession. It was worth the waiting becaouse now he can bulit a perfect life he always imagined having with you. "I love too. So, so, so much sometimes it hurts."

All of the published posts on this account/blog belongs to @shooting-love-arrows. I do not consent to my works being: translated, stolen, published or reposted on this and other sites. Likes, reblogs, comments are highly appreaciated. Thank you.

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everlastlady · 1 year

Text

Striker X Short Reader

┆ Author's Note: Hello! Welcome back my little imps, demonic sinners, and powerful overlords. Welcome to Striker X Short Reader. I thought this would be nice since I'm a short person, I'm like 5'2 in real life and always get mistaken for a kid and just the look on people's face when I tell them how old I am, is absolutely hilarious, but I hope all my shorties enjoy this story.

┆ Story Contains: Smut

┆ Fandom: Helluva Boss

┆ Word Count: 823

Striker is used to meeting people who are short and he especially enjoys teasing them a bit. But he just loved teasing you, calling things like, “ Short thing, “ Little demon, or “ Small creature “ You didn’t mind Striker’s teasing but sometimes it could be annoying. When he tools things from you, he would hold them up high and laugh when you would try to jump up and try to grab them. He would give it back and tussle your hair. “ I’m sorry pumpkin, you are so small and cute. “ He said while chuckling.

He would grab things off high places if he saw you struggling. Striker knows you love to do things for yourself but that could often lead you to hurting yourself. So if Striker saw you reaching for something. He would give you a hand either grabbing it with his hand or tail. Sometimes he would lift you so that you could grab. He did this because he didn’t want to see you hurt yourself like last time. You had fallen off the counter trying to grab a box of cereal and fell and ended up breaking your arm.

Striker is careful when you two wrestle each other and play fight. He doesn’t want to hurt you. He usually uses his tail to throw you on the couch or bed. He doesn’t put too much of his weight on you when he sits on you. But for some reason, you don’t take it easy on Striker so he calls you a little gremlin or puppy when you bite him. Striker would just chuckle but for a short person, you pack a punch and that’s what Striker likes about you, you may be short but you are ready to fight and not give up.

He thinks you look adorable when wearing his clothes, especially his hat. “ Hey look I’m Striker, howdy howdy. “ You would say as Striker would roll his eyes and take by his hat. “ Ha ha, very funny darlin’ “ But he did have a few pictures of you wearing his clothes because he found it cute. The only thing Striker had wore that belonged to you was your necklace, calls it his good luck pendant.

When he brings you to the saloon he is very protective of you because a lot of assassins, hitmen, criminals, and scum asses drink there. So he will keep his tail around your waist if he sees someone flirting with you or coming up to you both. He knows you can handle yourself, he just doesn’t want you getting roughed up just in case there is a fight.

When you guys sleep together you are usually spooning with you being the little spoon but if you beg Striker enough, he is willing to be the little spoon. But sometimes you sleep on top of Striker which is nice because he’ll rub circles on your back. In the morning is nice because he’ll pick you up off him and set you aside then tickle you awake, has he gotten punched once? Yeah, he has but he has learned how to dodge.

When you, guys are having passionate smoking sex, Striker has you on top of him. Ride a cowboy save a horse! Striker loves hearing your gasps and moans when he places his hands on your hips. Oh, how you tremble on top of your cowboy. You love hearing his huffs and growls

But when Striker is on top of you, he’ll cage you with his body while he pounds into you. Your little whines make him smirk when he drags his tongue across your neck and marks up your neck, collarbone, and chest. When you cry out his name it only makes him pound deeper into you. Seeing your eyes roll back brings him joy as he whispers how good you are being. “ Oh, darlin’, you are being so good, let me hear you say my name again, come scream how much you love. Let me hear it ~ “

Will he tie you up while you ride him? Yeah, He’ll place your hands behind your back and bound your wrist together and let you ride him while he holds you. He thinks it's adorable watching you squirm, whine, and beg him to let you cum. If he’s feeling kinky enough maybe he’ll choke you but you both have a safe word. Because if there is one thing Striker doesn’t want to hurt you too bad or make you uncomfortable.

This cowboy knows about aftercare so he’ll praise you on how good you were and then wash you up. He’ll give you sweet kisses and let you know how much you mean to him. He’ll help you put on your pajamas, then make you a nice meal and get you something to drink. If you fall asleep, he will hold you close and rub your back. “ I love you, darlin’ “ He’ll say then fall asleep holding you close.

#helluva boss #hazbin hotel #striker is so hot #striker helluva boss #striker #helluva striker #striker x reader #helluva moxxie #helluva fizzarolli #helluva asmodeus #helluva millie #helluva mammon #helluva loona #helluva fanfiction #helluva boss x reader #fan fiction #smut #helluva boss smut #request ☕📖

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starillusion13 · 4 months

Text

119: I like it like that

Pairing: NCT dream x f!reader

Genre: Mature, Smut, Mafia

W/c: 8k

Warnings: mention of drinking, hints of filming, use of sex toys, sex w/o a wrap(don't do it sillies), they all are just horny for each other, mean dom!nctdream, sub!fem, cum eating, hickeys, manhandling, fingering, kissing, crying, orgasm denial, edging,hand job, hints of voyeurism & exhibition, overstimulation, public sex, car sex, comfort, lots of love (let me know what to add more)

Networks: @cultofdionysusnet @k-vanity

Note: please I want to thanks to people for reading and reblogging. Reviews are always appreciated . Applause to the ones who come up to me to interact and they know how friendly I am. Okay enough!

MINORS PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT UNDER THE POST!

"Don't make a sound and don't even let others know about this. Alright?"

"But-"

"Are you really questioning me now?" he said and raised an eyebrow.

You shook your head and wide eyes staring at him. You didn't still able to place the pieces that he made you wear the panty with the most favorite vibrator of his choice and asked you to go along with him to the business party wearing a revealing slit dress. You always loved these thrilling experiences and for a lot of times, you had raised the topic of being used in front of others but everything should happen oblivion to others.

Your heels clicked on the shining marbled floor and the man standing at a distance watching you hungrily with a very familiar dirty smirk plastered on his face. Oh, he was enjoying it too much!

It was one of the fantasies coming true after all!

As soon as you reached near him, he grabbed your wrist and brought your knuckles to his lips, he inhaled the scent from your wrist and closed his eyes, "sweet as always." His nose brushed against your warm skin, his warm breath alone making you weak and his lips just a thin line away from your skin, "you will be good for us tonight, okay baby?"

He repeated and locked his gaze with yours, "okay? I want answers. And that should be a positive one."

You hesitantly nodded and he chuckled. He placed a soft kiss on your knuckles and entangled his fingers with yours before pulling you towards his side, "you are already being a bad girl, baby. And this has been added to your list. Keep in your mind to use your words to reply or later your every word will be deaf to my ears and I don't know about them."

"Yes, Mark......and where are the rest?" you asked him when he was guiding you towards the car in the garage.

"They have been already at the party, don't want to make them wait more. Right, baby?" he asked you while opening the door to the passenger seat for you.

"No. Let's go there before people start asking them about us." You entered and he pressed a kiss to the side of your head and closed the door.

Your eyes followed his movements how he checked a message in his phone then he looked at you through the glass, standing in front of the car and smirked. With slow steps, he entered the driver's seat and whistled when he set his hairs in the rear mirror.

Your gulped and your throat became dry watching him looking so perfect in black leather jacket and a denim bottom. His black hairs looking exactly the perfect match to the outfit and he seems like the center of attention of the party.

You licked your lips and he noticed it. He chuckled seeing you so horrified with the things that were going to happen.

"Are you scared? Or are you excited?" he asked with locking your eyes in the mirror.

You gulped and replied, "Both."

"That's a good girl. You are looking so expensive today. But I'm really disappointed that you didn't listen to our warnings and rules for the last two months, when we were not here. You hurt my trusts on you. And today you are going to repay it. Are you going to beg for the forgiveness?"

His words making you clench around nothing. You felt a wave of shame all over yourself for his words could have such an impact on you. You licked your lips and nodded before you looked up to him to your side. He was focusing on the position to take a back turn to get on the road.

"but I was missing you all. You all were gone for so long and I couldn't help but-"

"but to use all the toys that Jeno was hiding in his room. You entered all of our rooms and fucked yourself like a Wolfie in heat when we were out there busy and stressed out with our life and business."

He didn't turn towards you but his dark eyes were focusing on the road ahead. You sinked into your seat and looked outside the window. He glanced to your direction and smiled.

"you trust me, y/n? You trust us, right?" he asked you in a low voice.

"Yes. I trust you all more than everything."

Reaching to the grand gate of the 'The Park Hotel', your stomach twisted in the anticipation of the night ahead. You kept staring at the name which was shining in the dark surrounding. Mark opened the door to your side and offered you his hand, "here, my princess. The one who needs to be punished."

Your shaky hands got in contact with his strong grip and both of you walked towards the entrance.

You have been to such places a lot of times. Basically, any sort of meetings with them means to be you all in such a grand and lavish place but this day was different. Lot more exciting and surprising.

"Oh, finally my dear y/n is here." Jaemin's cheerful voice broke your gaze onto Mark's side profile and moved to the man who was approaching towards you. Mark left your hand before placing a kiss to let you hug Jaemin. You gladly accepted the hug and you realized that how much you have misses them.

"I missed you, Jaemin."

"I missed you too, baby. Were you fine by your own? Was everything too much or you were just having fun?"

"I...I felt lonely. Really, without even one of you. It was pretty much too much for me." you pout in the end.

He patted your head and turned towards Mark and signalled something before both of them smirked at you. You whispered to Mark, "does they know about my situation?"

Jaemin chimed in, "what situation?"

You didn't expect him to hear you but you just shook your head when Mark spoke up, "I don't know what she is talking about, Jaemin. As far as I can see she is in good situation."

Jaemin nodded, "you are looking perfect baby. I like it like that." and took a hold of your hand and kissed the exact same spot where still Mark's kiss from earlier was lingering. He guided you to the table where others were and Mark trailed behind you both.

As soon as you reached the table, they stared at you darkly. All their stares which were very unreadable but were filled with hungry intentions. You flashed a smile towards them. Your throat felt too dry to see them all in one place looking extra perfect. You last saw them in sleepy mood when they left for two months in the middle of the night.

Renjun was the first one to break his strong look into a smile, it was more of a smirk and he walked towards your figure wrapped in a red dress. He bent down to peck your lips catching you off guard,

"you know why you are told to wear the red dress?" he asked you.

You glanced towards Jisung and he raised a eyebrow. You turned back to the man in front and shook your head, "No."

You had only been told that the dress was bought by Jisung and you needed to wear it at the party.

"Aw...so sweet. Didn't know you are so naïve...you are looking so beautiful, exactly how we want to show you off to others." His hands took a hold of your hand and his fingers caressed yours. The fingers trailed up to your forearm and continued to caress the exposed collar bone and neck and rested on your cheek. He smirked before pecking you again.

Jisung left his place and stood beside you two, "I knew the dress would look best on her. This dress was really meant to wear by her. I'm impressed. You are looking like a princess." He leaned to whisper into your ears, "The one that needs to be punished soon." Before retreating himself, he planted a kiss on your ear lobe and on your cheek.

Mark and Jaemin already took their place around the table. Renjun also went back to his chair when Jisung pulled him back to the table. You could feel a piercing gaze on you and when you turned towards the direction from where it felt like was coming, you caught Chenle's eyes. He was watching you like a predator. He was having a wine glass in his hand and a cherry in other hand.

He slowly walked towards you and noticed how your eyes locked to the cherry. He stopped in front of you and raised the cherry. He eyed it intensely and looked towards you. You gulped and held his gaze.

"you are like the cherry on top of the party. You deserve this. Open your mouth." His words so sweet but the tone dipped in venom. A perfect sweet venom.

You obeyed his commands and did what he said. He slowly brought the cherry closer to your lips, almost touching your lower lips and asked, "Do you want it?" without wasting your time, you said, "yes."

He smirked and placed the cherry inside and closing your mouth shut with his hand. He sipped to his drink watching you eating the cherry. He waited for you to throw the seed. All their gazes were fixed on you. He offered a napkin to you. You threw the seed and he brought the wine glass from his lips to yours. "Drink."

You raised your hands to hold the glass. "did I say for you to hold it?" he gripped your jaw and made you drink the little bit of it.

He pecked your now sealed lips. He groaned in satisfaction into the kiss, "Perfect."

Jaemin leaned back into his chair, "Wow. Sexy. That was really hot."

Renjun nodded in compliance and Jisung nodded beside him.

Haechan broke the tensed atmosphere with his groan. "now come here baby and sit down. This table was looking so lonely without the cherry."

Jisung snickered hearing the comment.

You nodded but as soon as you took a step. You gasped and turned towards Mark. He was sipping his drink and staring at you. "what?"

"Mark..."

"Are you going to sit down or not?" Jeno's voice was dark and stern.

"yes." Your shaky legs due to the vibrator in your core led you to the seat between Jeno and Haechan.

You sat in your place and flashed smile towards Haechan, who was on your right.

He chuckled before leaning to you to whisper, "I will see how long this smile will last, sweetheart. This dress is really making you everyone's eye candy. But it's not good for you if people stare at you with hungry eyes."

"But that's not my fault. That's the fault of this dress." Your voice was pressed and broken due to the tingling sensation between your legs. You made a fist above your thigh. Your nails digging into the flesh of your palm.

Haechan unfolded your fist and entangled your fingers with his, "mine. I don't want these soft hands to get bruised now. These are so precious for so many things."

You felt a cold hand placed on your left thigh which was bare due to the starting of the slit of the long dress from top of the thigh. You followed the veiny hands of the man with Black leather jacket similar to Mark but a bit of different designs and patterns all over it.

Your eyes locked with the dark ones of Jeno. His stares were enough to make you cum untouched. Without processing your words, your lips parted to flow out some words, "please Jeno." You can't ever resist the urge to beg to this man. He poked the inside of his cheek and glared at you.

"Behave, Y/n. This is the last warning for tonight."

You pressed your lips tight and clutched your hands in Haechan's hold. Breaking the eye contact with Jeno, you looked at Mark with begging eyes.

"What happened?" He asked you with a smile. You gulped and attempted to speak but the vibrator was now set up to next level. The sudden increase in speed and their eyes on you making you clench around that tiny device and your both hands gripping the two man besides you. One who was already enjoying your tight clutches in his hold and another who had his palm above your thigh and your fingers holding his wrist tight for the dear life.

You closed your eyes tight and lowered your head. Feet curling under the table.

"Look at me." You didn't know who said those words rather your mind didn't register if something was said to you. You were focusing on suppressing your needs between your legs.

"Y/n. I said look at me." Renjun's stern voice made you look up to look at the man across from you. He was glaring at you.

"What happened? Why are you looking down? All the people are watching us." He raised his eyebrows and you shook your head in reply. He scoffed, "then try to behave. Don't act like this in the very beginning."

You were trying to overcome the tensed muscled. Your legs pressed tight and hands in contact with the two beside you on each side.

You averted your eyes to the approaching man towards the table when Renjun spoke up again, "did I tell you to look away?"

"But...I was just..."

"What did I say before coming here? Don't make a sound and be a good girl. Where are your manners, y/n?" Mark asked you in a daring way.

You whispered, "I'm sorry."

"Oh isn't this the dream unit. I'm so glad that you all attended the party. Say my greetings to Taeyong." The man in all white suit greeted them but Renjun still kept an eye contact with you.

Mark scoffed, "when the unit leader is here and you haven't greet properly to him. I won't be giving him your greetings."

The man laughed off the awkward moment and looked at you, "oh a beautiful lady with you all. Who is she?"

Jeno's fingers curled into a fist.

He extended his hand to greet you, "nice to meet you. This is Mr. Lee Sooman."

You broke the eye contact with Renjun and turned towards the man and stood up with a smile. Your jaw clenched due to the shift and the movement made the vibrations in a new position. You could feel their stares and when you shook the hand and introduced yourself, the vibrator was set to another level up.

You breathed out a groan and quickly retreated your hand from the man's grip. You fell back into your seat.

The concerned man asked you, "hey miss! Are you okay."

You couldn't hear anything but just looked down to disappear from his eyes.

Haechan faked smiled towards the man and stated, "I will appreciate if you just leave the personal space. She is our concern and you are not invited here to know about it. You can go and entertain your other guests."

The man pressed his lips in a smile and turned towards the another table.

"And y/n. Why are you acting weird? Can't you behave?" "Hae-Haechan...too too much."

"What's too much? Nothing is too much for you. Just know we are not leaving here until dinner. You are free to have your time."

"What!"

"What's wrong with that? Whatever he is telling is right. We are here for a dinner party and how will it seem to leave the party before dinner." Chenle said and sipped his wine.

Jisung added, "we will have more time to play here."

You had again pressed your legs tight and hands clutching your dress above your knees. Haechan smirked and picked up his wine glass and whispered something to Mark. The latter laughed and shook his head.

"Y/n, I don't like to repeat but you have to look up and act normal. I don't know why you are behaving like this." You could hear Renjun's annoyed statement but you didn't look up. you shook your head and sinked into the seat.

"didn't you hear him? Do you want to get punished...more?" Chenle said and smirked similarly like Renjun beside him.

you licked your lips and tried to form some words but only whimpers and low moans escaped your mouth.

"Don't lick your lips so much. Don't want the lipstick to fade. Do we?" he paused and repeated, "Do we?"

"N-no...Jisung."

"that's a good girl there." He smiled.

"M-mark...please...I-I..."

Jeno tapped your thighs and made you look at him. you were avoiding his eyes and focusing on anything other than any of them.he gripped your jaw and placed a cherry in your mouth

the buzzing between your legs, the bundle of nerves coiled inside your lower stomach and their intense gazes on you was making it difficult for you to control. There were other guests who were glancing at you all, whenever your eyes were falling on them, you gave them your professional smile.

"What is it, baby? I can't hear you. do you need something? can I help you?" Mark's concerning voice earned chuckles from others around the table. he was not concerned, he was enjoying and mocking at you.

"C-can I...Can I please-"

"No." Renjun cut you off.

your wide and confused eyes glanced him and back to Mark who was smirking. you attempted to speak but Mark beat you off.

"you heard what he said...be it like that."

"w-what no...please..."

"what are you even begging for, y/n?" Jisung rested his head on his palm, elbow pressed to the table and gazing intently at you.

you stared at Mark and he looked away.

"he is not even talking to you. I'm asking you something so you better reply me before you get on my nerves." Jisung scoffed in the end of his statement.

"I.." you were visibly panting, your knuckles turned white for the pressure you were balling your fist. "I...It's too much...please...please...I can't hold it anymore...please..."

chenle laughed and asked you, "what you can't hold anymore? you are not even holding your wine glass. are you gonna..." he raised his eyebrows and didn't complete the sentence but sipped his drink, holding his gaze with your shaky orbs.

"please...M-Mark...please..."

you were using your whole energy not to come without his permission but he was just reluctantly joking with Chenle and Haechan. you didn't even know from where he was operating his remote. both of his hands were on the table. in one hand, he was checking his phone often and with other hand he was eating the pastries, different fruits or drinking his wine.

where is the remote?

"what are you asking for?" he asked you with amusement filled eyes.

"fuck-"your whispered curse turned into silent whines when suddenly the vibrator got turned off.

Jaemin smiled and brought your attention towards him, "why were you cursing? didn't Mark tell you not to make any sound?"

"please...Jaemin..."

"What? now you are asking me? I can't help you with anything." he smirked and leaned back, placing his hand behind his head.

Jeno grabbed your neck and pulled you towards him with a smile. if anyone watching the scene would find it romantic and think he is teasing you and flirting with you. but in reality, he brought your face closer to his and eyes scanned your face with touch up of glittery eyeshadows and blush but a look of frustration visible on top of it. the frustration of denial.

"pathetic. you never miss a chance to take away my breath." he groaned in the end.

A hand ran down your spines, sending chills to your body and the owner of the hand whispered into your ears, "did you want to come before?"

You hastily turned towards your other side with shocked eyes to see Haechan faking an innocent look towards you. "why?"

"why? I didn't do anything. Do you think I could do such a thing?" he said it out loud so that others could listen to him and then he again leaned to your ears, "I would have done worse."

his hands were still resting on your bare back and and the other man’s hand on your thighs from earlier returned. both of them drawing patterns on your burning skin, making you squirm in your place.

"what happened? are you excited for something?" you shook your head to Chenle's comment.

you took deep breathes but they came out as shaky due to both of them on your either side sliding their hands over your bare skin.

Chenle clanked his glass with a spoon to gain your attention, few people nearby your table turned their heads towards you all and you felt embarrassed but still managed to send a tight smile. few recognized that the dream unit was sitting near them, bowed towards them in greetings. you took a napkin and dabbed it on your face to wipe off the sweat lining and sipped the wine.

"where is the remote?" you asked in a challenging way towards Mark.

"woah...somebody is acting too strong now." Jisung said and laughed.

"and that was not the smart move." Jeno's voice was low and heavy beside you.

the same vibrator turned on again but this time it was already set on a higher level. you groaned and almost moaned out but quickly looked around to see if anyone heard you or not. there was horror in your eyes and you didn't know if you would be allowed to come this time but still there was a desperation in your body. their hot touch, their eyes on you and their teasing voices were not helping you to distract yourself from the wet pool between your legs. similarly, like before you pressed your legs tight and hands balled above your thighs and jaw clenched to restrict any sort of noise to escape your throat.

"let's make it a little bit more fun. what do you say guys?"

"and what you want, Haechan?" Jaemin asked while looking up from the phone. he was recording your expressions when the set up increased by a level. Haechan hummed beside you as if he was in a deep thought but someone's voice made you look at him.

"put your hands on the table." Renjun commanded you but your movements were too slow for the patience of the man beside you. Jeno grabbed your hands and put them on them table, planting a kiss on the fingers and delicately placed them on the table and whispered, "these hands are mine because you are mine."

the dark voice and the authority in his voice pushed you to clench again and the feelings of the coiling of the knots from earlier started to return back. you curled your fingers only to get a light hit from Haechan.

"act normal. don't make a fist......um...drink the wine and also the pastry." Jisung smirked on ending his orders.

"W-what? I c-cant...no no."

"did you just say no to me?" he poked his inner cheek with tongue and placed a toothpick between his teeth.

you took a bite of the pastry. it was your favorite one and most delicious one but this moment you were in nowhere to appreciate the food. your shaky hands raised your glass in your grip and Haechan clanked his glass with yours, sending you a wink before sipping into it.

"she is doing much more than only clenching her fist. open your legs."

you shook your head to Jaemin's command.

"y/n...Open. Your. Legs." Jaemin was having literal fire in his eyes and if he ever acts this way means he was not in the mood of entertaining anything at the moment.

you had to obey his orders. you broke their rules and now you had to face the consequences. you had no other option than to do what he said. you slowly parted your thighs only for the vibrator to get shift a bit and you gasped out loud but thankfully no one noticed it except the boys surrounding you.

"you are looking pathetic at this point but still...I'm addicted seeing you like this."

Haechan will say everything just to push you towards the climax and you were trying your best to act deaf to his words.

"If we didn't have brought you here then think about us, we would have been bored so much. unlike you who would have taken the situation to her advantage." Mark stated and rolled his eyes.

Chenle nodded, "that's true. someone really doesn't care how good I fuck her. how I own her but in the end only disappointing me."

Jeno tsked beside you and added, "I need to get it in her head tonight that who is the one in control. Sometimes she tends to forget everything and I should take the honor to remind her place and who owns her."

He leaned to your ears and his hand on your thigh gripped the flesh tightly, leaving red hand marks and other hand on your bare back, a finger tracing the spinal cord. His breaths hitting your earlobe and the vibration reaching to your core, "close your eyes baby. I said close means you will close it at the instance."

you did as he told you. rest of their eyes following you two. Thankfully, your table was in the end corner and not so crowded there. of course, no one would dare to come across NCT's table. even if they are the dream unit, the two wild brothers of Taeyong are on this table so there was still a fear of the aggressiveness of the gang.

"Imagine you are sitting on my lap on this chair. my hard dick buried deep inside. pumping into you and ripping you into two parts. your teary eyes and bouncy tits." he groaned into your ears and his hand on your thigh trailed upward, near to your vibrating zone, tracing the bikini line over the dress. "think the way i would have fucked you so nice and full unlike this tiny device. you begging me to dont stop-"

"please...dont stop..."

he chuckled and continued, "cut my words again and am going to bend you down over this table and fuck you insane."

the thought of him fucking your brains out made you squirm in your place.

Renjun chuckled, "someone is excited too much."

Jeno hummed into your ears, "are you near? Is that tiny one giving you the pleasure like I give you?"

"n-no"

"Is it filling you full?"

"n-no"

"open your eyes."

you quickly did because you were reaching your climax soon and he was keeping you on the edge. you didnt want to cause anything more trouble to them to deny your orgasm again.

"will you be satisfied with it...in place of me?"

"No!"

your protest was a broken and muffled cry. he placed a small piece of pastry inside your mouth. he wiped the cream from the corner of your mouth and licked his finger. the device was again got turned off by them and you were denied the second orgasm of the night.

you were breathing heavily and panting while gulping the pastry. Jisung offered you a glass of water. "are you okay?"

you shook your head and gulped down the water.

"why? what happened?" Chenle's concerned voice.

your teary eyes locked with his, "please...why...why...I...need to go to washroom."

"do you think we are stupid?" Renjun almost laughed in the end of the statement.

"No...I need to use it....really."

"Okay. I will go with her." Jisung stood up quickly to guide you to the exact direction. you glanced a nervous look towards your table when Jaemin winked at you. He mouthed you to smile and you smiled while making your way away from the table. you both came across a lot of known people and you were happy to meet them after a long time. you mentally thanked that they haven't turned on the device this time and you didn't have to embarrass yourself.

you definitely didn't took much time inside the stall because you didn't have a choice but as soon as you exited it, you came face to face with Jisung leaning against the marble counter and whistling at you.

"isn't this my pretty baby looking so delicious in the red dress."

"Thanks for the dress, Ji."

he nodded and you went beside him to wash your hands. he back hugged you and locked his eyes with yours in the mirror.

"I just want to rip this dress off from you. but I can wait for the night. maybe the dress is expensive enough to tear off but I don't even care about that, " he turned you around and pressed himself closer to you, his fingers traced your face, "but I care to break you down under me. my baby. you are the most expensive thing in my life."

"you hate me?"

he laughed, "why will I hate you? because you broke that rule? Silly, breaking that rule doesn't even matter because in the end I will get you for myself. But we are having a little fun here today. I love you, Y/n. Are you not enjoying?"

"I love you too, Jisung...but this is too much for me...People might be watching us and they might find it weird."

"really doesn't matter. let them think whatever they want to. you only have to focus on us."

"I missed you so much." you said and hugged him.

he returned the hug and patted your back, "me too baby."

you both heard a knock and he groaned. he ignored it and kissed you but it was just a peck, his lips trailed down to your jaw and neck. he inhaled your perfume and groaned in satisfaction, one hand pumped your clothed breast and bit you soft on the soft skin at your sweet spots and you moaned out his name. he smiled and returned back to peck you again.

Hearing some repeating knocks after ignoring some before, he took a hold of your hand and you checked yourself in the mirror for any marks left behind before he unlocked the door.

the woman standing there gave you weird look and Jisung noticed it.

"Listen here 'who-is-giving-looks', before you judge anything about my wife. you need to know who's wife she is and who she is. she is too precious to receive looks from you so take that eyes down or somewhere else. I dont want those dirty eyes on her."

the woman apologized and entered the washroom. you both walked towards the table.

"you didn't have to say her like that."

"she deserved it. why will she give you a disgusting look? you are perfect. she is nowhere like you." Jisung pulled you towards the table.

"took long enough. did you guys have your little fun or what?" Chenle wiggled his brows. Jisung shook his head while taking his seat and you sat in your exact place between the ones, who were too excited to get you back for their torture.

"maybe I could have but the interruption had ruined it all."

"awe poor jisungie."

He glared at Chenle.

"but I can have my own fun later. i want myself to take that dress off from her."

"You looked like the center of the party when you walked across the room just now. I must say the choice for the red dress was perfect." Renjun said and gave you smile.

"Thanks, Renjun."

He nodded and then the servants served you the dinners. you heard the others talking to Jisung that they met some of the guests while you were gone.

there were a lot variety of dinners and you were really not hungry because of the frustration in your stomach. you eyed the foods and Jaemin noticed your disinterested face.

"I don't want to hear that you won't be eating anything. you have a habit of skipping meals often and today you can't do this in front of me atleast."

your protest was shut by his glare.

Jeno placed some foods in your plate as he knows the things you love and not. of course, all of them are aware of this.

"you all are looking handsome." your sudden compliment made them pause. some smirked and some smiled at you.

"I know I'm looking too good because earlier the way you were boring hole to myside while driving. I thought you would launch at me and I will have to fuck you in the way here."

"Yah! Mark. don't say like this when we are eating." he laughed at your whining voice.

Jeno patted your head and urged you to continue eating.

you still had the doubt, 'who has the remote?'

When you all finished the eating, there was an announcement for a thirty minutes late night show. you all chatted for a while at your table and it was just a normal conversation among you all. many other known faces from earlier greeted you all and had conversations with you all.

you were resting your head on Haechan's shoulder and Jeno was playing with your fingers when Haechan whispered, "when the lights will turn off, you will show me the magical work of your hands."

you looked around the table to see no one was paying attention to what he was saying, "what? no Haechan. there people around us. this is not good."

"oh baby! trust me no one will catch us in the dark. if you don't do what i say then you will get more punishments."

you gulped and nodded.

you extended your hand to take the wine glass but it slipped from your hand and you gasped, earning chuckles from around the table. thankfully, the glass didn't have much wine but enough to make a mess around the glass. Jeno quickly wiped the liquid before it could roll to anywhere.

"shit! someone is making a mess." Mark mocked at you. you watched how Jaemin was again recording you in his phone like before.

you pressed Jeno's hand for the vibrator was on the highest level. you didn't think you would last long enough this time. as on the cut, the lights got turned off. everybody cheered and suddenly you felt Jeno's fingers hovering over your heat, just above the vibrator.

"please...please...Jeno...please..."

"I really can't hear you right now, the show will begin just now so focus on it."

"what no- Jeno-"

Haechan held your hand and guided it to just above the tent in his pant.

"you feel this. this is because of you so let the show begin." he quickly opened the button of his jeans and freed his painfully red length. he was in an awkward posture, if the lights suddenly gets turned on, he might could get caught but he really didnt care about that and brought your hands to the tip of it.

"Ah fuck- y/n...your little touch makes me want you so bad. gonna fuck you so bad."

"hae...haechan...I can't do it." you shakily whispered.

"hush love. you can even if your orgasm is keeping you on hook. you need to keep quiet for me and do it." haechan wrapped your fingers around his member and moved it up and down in slow movements. he threw his head back and inhaled sharply.

"keep going."

"but-"

"keep quiet and start moving your hand. make me cum before the show ends."

your stomach twisted, you literally forgot your other hand holding Jeno's wrist. he pressed his palm over the device and pressed it, earning a loud moan from you. the music from the show was loud enough to silent your moans.

"Jeno...no...no...too much."

"is it?" he pressed it more and started circling it around the area. "and now?"

you nodded and your other hand jerking off Haechan's length. he was leaning on your shoulders and cursing in your earss, sending jolt to your core where the other was torturing you. You were about to shout to see Jaemin under the table between your legs and pulling off the table cover, smiling at you but jeno was quick to shut you up.

"hello princess. I am hungry for my dessert after the dinner. you will give me what I want, right?"

you nodded but didn't know what you actually agreed to. The man under the table smirked that his brother was torturing your clit with the pressure and when his gaze followed your hand, he chuckled.

"oh I see, here someone is having their little fun. that's not fair."

haechan rolled his eyes, "you can do ah- whatever you like. I won't complain b-but let me have my fun. fuck- y/n keep going like that."

"oh brother trust me. I am here for it."

Jaemin pushed your dress up, enough to get a free access to your clit and watched the vibrator doing its job. Jeno's hand trailed up to message your breasts and kiss your shoulders and nape. he didn't only kiss but also bit some areas.

"J-jeno"

"Hush...keep quiet..."

Jaemin asked Jeno and Haechan to hold your legs apart and he pushed your panty aside. he took off the vibrator and pressed it on a new place which made you gasped. you locked your eyes with Mark in the dark. he smirked at you before turning away.

Jaemin inserted a finger inside you and you literally cried out. the show would have stopped if Haechan was not quick enough to shut your mouth. you silently cried and sobbed in their hold. Jaemin inserted one more finger and you moaned into the palm placed over your mouth.

"I...am gonna cum...cum...please" your pleads were muffled and you lost the rhythm to Haechan. he gripped your hand tight and guided you. he was near and so were you. he forced your hand to go faster and soon he let out a deep groan into your ears and came undone.

"fuck...that was so good."

And at the same time Jaemin attached his mouth to your core, making you squirm in your place. his tongue was flat to your core at first and then he played with your bud and sucking it off. his fingers, mouth and vibrator was making your mind go blank and you were blabbering nonsense.

Jeno bit on your shoulder and kissed away the pain and then asked you, "are you near? Is Jaemin making you feel good?"

"Yes..yes Jeno...Jaemin is making me feel too good." your hands grip Jaemin's hair and his groan vibrated in your core and tears falling from your eyes. "please...please...let me cum...please..."

Haechan chimed in, "I think the princess needs a reward for keeping quiet enough." he had again tucked his shirt and put on the pant properly.

Jaemin smiled into your core, "Go ahead, princess. give me my sweet delicious dessert." his hands left red marks in your inner thighs and you were sure the other two's hands were also tight enough to leave marks.

as soon as you got the permission, you came. You saw white and threw your head back earning a kiss from Jeno on your head, it felt as if Jaemin sucked out your soul from the core. he licked off all the juices and removed the vibrator. his tongue still on you was overstimulating you and you bit your lips.

you looked down to catch Jaemin's eyes. He smiled at you, "I like it like that."

"My god we are twisted. you don't know what are the things we feel to do with you whenever we see you." Jeno nearly breathed out the words. he was having a tent in his pant and when your hands move to touch him, he held them in place and shook his head.

Jaemin returned to his place and Haechan pulled down your dress and dry off your sweat with tissues.

the light turned on and everybody clapped. you clapped slowly without even knowing what had happened during the show. but as soon as you turned your head, you caught Renjun's dark and sharp eyes.

everybody stood up and he walked towards you, extending his hand to make you stand. you all said your goodbyes and walked over to the cars.

Chenle and Jisung chose Jeno's car and Jaemin tagged along. that's leaving you with Renjun and Haechan to get into Mark's car.

Haechan sat in the passenger seat. he was too excited to get back home and Mark chuckled seeing him while he entered inside the driver's seat.

Renjun sat with you in the backseat.

as soon as the doors were closed and engine started. Renjun pulled you over his lap.

You yelped in surprise and he showed you a very familiar device in his hold. You didn’t expect that the remote was with him all along this time.

"you had fun with those three. now you will give me one right?" Renjun asked you and traced the hickey marks left by Jeno. you previously had covered them with your hairs but this man pushing away the hairs and eyeing those marks. "you are literally marked as ours. my love you drive me crazy."

he pushed your dress up and pulled down your panty. your bare ass visible to the men in front. they both groaned at the scene.

"don't distract me much or I will park the car anywhere to get my turn." the man from driver's seat said and chuckled.

"cry for it, Mark but we are going home. if you park the car, I am leaving you there and will drive off to the house."

"fuck you."

"gladly."

Renjun undid his pants and freed himself. he groaned and pumped his dick with the precums over it. He watched you eyeing his movements and grabbed your neck. "Ride me. okay, y/n?"

you nodded and he guided you to sit on his length. you were already dripping from the release of earlier and the new stretch burnt out the soft flesh of yours. you cried out but he kissed away the tears. you slowly started moving and gripped his shoulders.

"I want to see you but I can't take this dress off because someone else has already claimed it."

he urged you to go faster and you literally started to bounce on his lap. he groaned and moaned out. you could hear groans from the front seat as well. Renjun brought his hand from your neck to the throat and put pressure to the sides of it. you gasped but still continued to bounce.

he increased the pressure and you almost choked but it didn't hurt you much, he was quick to release for you to breathe fore few seconds only to put pressure again. another hand holding your hips in place.

"fuck- ah-"

he was near and you felt yourself near as well.

he pushed himself up inside you and you were crying. you were clenching around him for your release.

"Cum baby. I k-know y-you want to cum."

you came and rested your forehead on his shoulder. he removed his hand from your throat and again held your neck keeping you on his shoulder. His thrust increased its' pace and you whimpered for the overstimulation.

"make those sounds in my ear more. I-I'm not going to stop anytime soon."

"too much..."

"hush last one...take it."

the thrusts were rough and uneven and soon he came inside you and he kissed your shoulder.

"you did well."Renjun said and combed your hairs.

"please I want to sleep. no more today please."

"okay baby. sleep. but remember we are nowhere near the finish line."Renjun chuckled in your ears. he didn't pull out yet but when you whimpered, he detached from you and pulled your dress down. he did his pant again and rested your head on his shoulder.

you closed your eyes but still could hear Haechan's voice.

"oh darling! today night we will have so much more fun. I'm waiting for it."

They all cheered and said, "I like it like that."

but Renjun whispered into your ears, "if you reach your limits you know what to call us."

before dozing off, you mumbled,

"119."

Im planning to do this fic on NCT 127 and WAY-V. So please tell me whether you want this on the other units. Of course the scenario will be a little bit different.

(Do let me know if you liked it or not…this is a kind of fic I wanted to write but didn’t know how to. So here it is. Please give it a reblog in appreciation.)

Taglist: @mymoodwriting @justhere4kpop @anyamaris @yeoobin @icchyi @jwnghyuns @piratequeen-queenofgames @dinonuguaegi @oreharuuu @hwanring @sanwifesstuff @kiwiisnthereoops @kiwiraccoon @hyuukah @kazscara @aceofspadesbiofalltrades @sexygrass @minkyuncutie @loveforred

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sailoryooons · 6 months

Text

Gods of the Dark | Two | myg (m)

☾ Pairing: Dream god!Yoongi x f. human!reader

☾ Summary: Don’t ask for help in the dark. It’s an old tale you always heard whispered among the people of your village. But when you find yourself dragged kicking by the man you’re to marry, you have little choice but to beg for help long after the sun has set. The god who answers your pleas promises to save you, but every deal comes with a price.

☾ Word Count: 21,443

☾ Genre: Fantasy, angst, strangers to lovers, smut

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

☾ Warnings: Sexist and patriarchal society inspired by medieval europe, a lot of world building and discussion about theories/concept of dreams, discussions of morals and ethics, world building, angst, mentions/light depictions of an abusive family, discussions of gender roles and forced marriages, attempted murder via arson, sexual dream sequences, depictions of oral (f. receiving), exposed bodies (in a brothel), pining, townsfolk essentially bullying reader, intense nightmare sequences, light depictions of PTSD (including memories of almost drowning/being physically attacked), explicit language, idiots who are obviously into one another being idiots, recreational drinking, topics of desire, feelings of shame, depictions of anxiety and fear, slight voyeurism, attempted murder

☾ Published: December 2, 2023

☾ A/N: It's finally here! This chapter took so long to write and I want to apologize for how long it took. The creative process can be so difficult sometimes, and I have been having a very hard year, which reflects in my writing. Thank you for sticking with me - I really hope this chapter is okay. This originally wasn't going to be as slow of a burn as it is, but this is where the story took me naturally, so I hope that's okay with everyone. I am going to be adding an extra chapter to this now to tell the story the way I want, so we will have five total chapters to this. I am already working on chapter three, and my goal is to write just this series until the next three chapters are done! Note: The sections of italics are used to indicate dream sequences for this fic - the way I use these are very specific and with intent... that's the only hint I will give you.

A huge thank you to @here2bbtstrash for being my beta reader - I give them huge beta projects with very little time to do them, and this story would not be nearly as polished or tuned as it is now without them. Also thank you to everyone who has been so encouraging and patient with me - your kind words are not lost on me and I'm thankful for you all!

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Eyes in the sky crying geysers How dare I have private desires

First is your mother’s screaming. It’s loud enough to make you clap your hands over your ears, wincing as she drops all of the things in her hands. Second is your father storming into the house like a hurricane, an axe clutched in his hand from cutting wood in the yard. When he sees you, he blanches and takes a few steps back, raising the axe.

“Demon,” he whispers. He reaches for your mother and pulls her behind him. “You are a demon.”

“No, I-”

Without a warning, your father launches the axe at you. You scream, arms going up to block your face, unable to dodge the attack. There’s a loud crack as the axe hits an invisible barrier. You feel your hand fly to your open mouth, staring at the axe that’s now hewn in two on the floor.

Silence follows the destruction of the weapon. In that silence, it occurs to you that your father has attempted to kill you, and was only stopped by whatever protection Yoongi promised you. The realization is dizzying and you stumble away from your parents a little, bumping into the wall that separates the kitchen and the entryway.

No one says anything at first. Your mother clings to your father, trembling violently. Her hair is greyer than you remember and it looks like the last few days haven’t been kind to her. But she has always been soft and weak.

It’s your father who no longer looks the same. Always such an imposing figure in your life, he looks aged. His face is wrinkled, his hair is grey. His presence is so much smaller than you remember, once full of rage and ferocity, now just a terrified man in a doorway.

You cannot believe this is the man you’ve spent most of your life afraid of. Where once stood a great fear of yours now stands nothing more than a shadow of a man. Weak. Afraid. Vulnerable.

“You can’t hurt me anymore,” you say in a voice much steadier than you feel. “You can’t marry me off, you can’t make me burn my books, and you can’t hurt me anymore.”

“What kind of demon are you?”

It occurs to you that you could tell him you’re not a demon. You’re just you, with a little added protection. But the realization that they are afraid of you wakes up something ugly inside of you. Something oily, that slithers, something wicked and sharp.

You don’t have to tell them you’re not a demon. You don’t have to tell them that you are. They have come to that conclusion themselves, and it has put them beneath you. Afraid of you. You’re more powerful than you’ve ever been in this home.

So you let them think you are. “The kind that survived Nathaniel Laudermill beating me in the woods and trying to drown me.”

Your father straightens. “That wasn’t supposed to happen! You weren’t supposed to run and he- he wasn’t supposed to hurt you.”

“Well, he did. And he paid for it, didn’t he?”

When you say it, you have a sneaking suspicion that Nathaniel Laudermill is dead. When your father nods feebly at your question, the knowledge slides into place. You don’t feel bad. It almost horrifies you that you don’t, but you think of the burning in your lungs, his nails against your skin, the roaring of the water.

You’re glad Nathaniel is dead.

“What do you want from us? Money? Our lives?”

“Nothing.” You realize it’s true, suddenly stricken with wondering why you came back at all. “I want you to go about your lives, and let me do what I will.”

Pushing off the wall, you turn around and head out the front door. You feel their eyes on you as you go, but you don’t look back.

For now, you walk out into the woods. Crickets chirp happily, growing quiet as you walk by and starting once again when you’re a distance from them. Under the shade of the trees, it’s cold. The river isn’t flooded up into the woods anymore, but the ground is soft beneath your feet, mud giving way to your steps.

It feels different when you walk through the woods this time. They aren’t as vibrant. No Tiera is lurking in the boughs of the wisteria. There’s no lake with merfolk peering at you with large, alien eyes. A world that was once so full of life and peace feels unsaturated now. Devoid of color.

A nasty feeling creeps up on you as you walk. You look for the creatures of the wood, hoping to see their bright colors and little lives. A snake slithers away from you, but it’s just that. A snake with normal scales, in a normal bush. A rabbit rushes by, quick as lightning, a blur of fur.

None of the birds have plumes of purple feathers. There’s no trilling song that sounds like dreams spun into notes, no smell of drifting sweetness on the wind. The air is damp and cold, and it smells like fresh earth and water. But there’s nothing about it that seems as vibrant as before.

By the river, the water rushes as fast as your thoughts. You weren’t sure what to expect when you came home, but it wasn’t this. It wasn’t your parents thinking you were a demon, but that isn’t the worst part.

The worst part is that only after two weeks, your world has lost its magic. It pales in comparison to Yoongi’s world or even your imagination. You stare at the water you used to think rushed with so much promise, the waxy leaves that used to contain so many shades of green. Now they’re just leaves and the river is just water.

A tingle presses at your neck. You turn, expecting Yoongi to be looming behind you. There’s no one there, but the feeling of awareness doesn’t go away. Frowning, you lean against the tree and stare out into the woods unseeing.

Clove and cinnamon hang in the air. You close your eyes, inhaling. The tingle at the back of your neck feels familiar. In your mind, you feel it like a phantom touch, sliding from your neck across your shoulder, dragging down the length of your arms until there is a soft twitch in your palm.

It’s easy to imagine Yoongi this way. But when you open your eyes, Yoongi isn’t there. The feeling doesn’t go away. But you always have that feeling out here, the something of other. Your heart flutters at the thought of the god lurking somewhere that you can’t see.

A silly thought. You brush it away, trying not to delude yourself into fantasies that Yoongi has any interest in you beyond your deal and beyond that night in the woods where you asked for help. Yoongi’s kindness is just that, and though you dream of him often, you know the difference between your dreams and reality.

Instead of leaving to go back to the house, you sit down on the ground. Closing your eyes, you imagine a brighter world. A more magical world. It’s easier to do this than to contend with the fact that the woods you loved so dearly are not as you remember them.

This, at least, is familiar. Sitting in the woods for hours and imagining worlds away from yours. Now, you imagine a specific world, made up of twilight and mountains in the distance. With a wonderful castle full of rooms saturated with candlelight and books you’re learning how to read.

When your stomach growls, you’re forced to stop your imagination and get up. You feel a bit better, knowing that you can at least remember what Yoongi’s dream realm looks like. Two weeks. You have two weeks until you can go back, and until then, Yoongi expects you to study.

Back at the house, your parents stare in silence when you enter. You hardly look at them, walking to the kitchen as though they are merely ghosts harboring the same space as you. Your movements are methodical as you make yourself lunch. When you reach for the knife to cut cheese, you feel the pointed look of your parents.

Part of you wants to turn around and scream at them to scare them. Another part of you has divorced the idea of them as your parents already. Yet you do nothing, biting a piece of cheese as you finish plating your meal and go to your room. They say nothing.

Sitting on your bed, you eat your meal. The world is quiet for the most part, though the muted sound of nature hums beyond your closed window. You realize there is a desk in your room stacked with books, parchment, and inkwells.

Heart racing, you get up from your bed and cross the room. You wipe your fingers on your shirt as you pick up a note written in Yoongi’s neat scrawl. You chew your lip as you look at the swirls and dips of letters on paper, immediately intimidated at the prospect of making sense of the writing.

You take the note with you to the bed and begin to parse the letters and sentences apart. It takes all of your concentration, going over the sounds each letter makes in your head to build a word. It’s not fast work and it isn’t easy, but after a while, you work out the first sentence.

Do not forget to practice every day.

A smile makes your mouth twitch, both in pride that you managed to work out the sentence and at the thought of Yoongi hunched over his desk writing you a note.

The second sentence is trickier. Afternoon light pours through your window as you spend another fifteen minutes sounding out the letters, quietly muttering them to yourself until you’ve got full words to build the sentence.

I will be watching, so you better practice as often as you can.

You bite your lip. It sounds like a playful threat, quietly muttered in one of Yoongi’s teasing moments. You can almost hear the soft rasp of his voice and picture the smirk that would accompany his words. You shiver before reading the final sentence.

Sleep well, and dream as often as you can.

The desk is a nice touch. You don’t remember seeing it this morning and you wonder how it got there. Remembering Yoongi’s magic is overwhelming. You’re still unsure what the limits of his power are, if there are any at all.

Hunched over the papers, you begin to trace letters again. It feels good to have the quill in your hand. You’re careful not to spill the ink all over the paper like you do when you’re practicing in the library - you have a limited amount of parchment here, compared to Yoongi’s endless amounts in the House of Dreams.

It does beg the question whether he’ll drop you off more magical paper if you run out, though.

By the time your hand is cramping too much to practice more and your head hurts, it’s evening. Your parents are locked away in their room when you come out. You can hear the soft voice of your mother go silent when they hear you enter the kitchen for food before heading out to the porch.

Twilight skies stretch above you. Sitting on the edge of the porch, you watch the world fade from purple to black. The stars begin to dot the sky, the moon making her climb upward. You grin, feeling relieved that maybe not all of your world has lost its magic.

Perhaps it’s just the light of day you’re no longer interested in. The night is far more mysterious and alluring, calling to you as you finish your last bite of dinner. You set your plate down on the porch and hop down, feeling the soft grass beneath your bare feet.

The last time you entered the woods in the dark, you were almost killed. That memory alone makes you pause at the edge of the woods. Your mouth dries a little bit and though the urge to step into the shadow of the night is strong, the memory of Nathaniel’s hands on your hair is stronger.

You turn around quickly and walk back to the house, picking up the plate along the way. It feels shameful to be afraid of the dark woods, a sour taste in your mouth as you lock yourself in your room and crawl onto the bed.

Closing your eyes, you try not to think about Nathaniel. His yelling haunts you, the phantom grip of his fingers pulling your hair, the way your mouth filled with water- a hooting owl disturbs your spiraling thoughts.

You open your eyes, straining your ears, only to find silence. Just as you begin to close your eyes again, you hear the hoot once more. Turning toward the window next to your bed, you sit up and pop the latch, casting open one of the shutters.

Above the house, the moon is a glowing coin in the sky. Everything her light touches is awash in grey. Sticking your head out of the window, you sweep your gaze back and forth, trying to look for the sound of the hooting.

As though it senses your gaze, the owl hoots again. You see it this time. A great horned owl stares at you from its perch on top of a pile of chopped wood. Its eyes are burnished gold, like two burning beacons in the night. It’s a stunning owl, all browns and whites, feathers luminous under the sheen of the moon. It moves its head in a circle, opening and closing its beak.

Then, the owl surprises you. You flinch and sit backward on your haunches as it takes flight, great wings flapping as it flies to your window and lands on the ledge. You gasp in delight. The creature is far bigger up close, its ochre eyes warm and intelligent.

The back of your neck tingles familiarly and you smile.

“Are you supposed to watch over me?” The owl chirps, a much higher-pitched noise than the hoot. “Hmm. I see. Do you have a name?”

The owl bobs its head from side to side in an uncanny movement. Though you’re not sure, you think it means to tell you no. “Well, what if I give you one?” The owl chirps again. “What about… Moony?”

Fluffing its feathers, the owl shifts back and forth and lets out a hiss. You giggle, covering your mouth as the bird settles, looking at you in a way that certainly feels haughty and bothered. “Alright. What about… Dream?” Another hiss and a bob no. “Okay, well you’re making this quite difficult. What about…”

A dozen names run through your mind. You think of the owl as Yoongi’s way to watch over you at night. It makes you feel warm and far less alone than you were before. It’s nice knowing that you have a protector, someone to warn Yoongi if you’re ever in danger. Or to steer you away from your bad thoughts.

“How about Guardian?” you offer. It blinks two large eyes before chirping and bobbing its head in a circle, pleased at the name. You grin and slowly reach your hand forward. “I like it. Guardian, then.”

Gently, the owl leans forward and lets you brush its feathers. They are silky under your touch, each plume delicate and wonderful. You can’t help but smile, stroking the owl's chest until it shuffles back and forth and gives a short hoot.

“Go on,” you urge. “Do whatever you need to do. I’ll leave the window open?”

Guardian hoots in affirmation before shuffling its wings and flying off into the night.

Laying in your back, you stare up through the open window, watching the stars go past. Slowly, you feel sleep pull at your edges, beckoning you to give in. You finally do, drifting asleep under the silver light of the moon and a blanket of stars.

Yoongi sits in front of the fireplace in the library. You blink a few times, a little dazed. You don’t remember how you got here, but you know the smell of this library and you know that shadowy frame better than anything. It suddenly makes you ache to realize how much you miss it already.

As if sensing your presence, Yoongi turns to look at you. He smirks, showing no sign of surprise at seeing you standing behind him. He gestures to the armchair next to him and you grin, quick to join him.

Warmth leaps from the fireplace, the logs popping and crackling under the hungry, orange flames. Yoongi is dressed in a simple linen shirt and pants, his necklaces reflecting the burning light. He watches you sit down and fold your feet onto the chair.

“Am I here? Or am I dreaming?” you ask.

“Are both not possible?”

You think about it. “Well yes, I suppose they are. I’m dreaming but I can come here because I’m dreaming.”

“Clever girl.” Yoongi’s eyes dance as he looks you up and down. “How was your first day back?”

“Strange. I…” You chew on your lip, wrapping your arms around your legs. Suddenly, you feel more at home than you did earlier that day in the place you were raised. You think about the woods out behind your house, the alien way you felt among trees that should be familiar. “It feels as though the world doesn’t hold as much magic anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like here. It is so vibrant and beyond imagining that now that I’ve gone back… nothing compares.”

Yoongi hums. “I promise you that there is so much magic in your world. There is real magic in living that cannot be found among the imaginary.”

You rest your chin on your knees and sigh heavily. “If only I could find it.”

“You will.”

Silence passes between you. It’s comfortable. You watch the dancing fire, the world fading away. Though you are acutely aware that Yoongi is staring at your side profile, you don’t squirm or feel anxiety. You simply feel peace, happy to be here. Happy to be with him.

That makes your stomach flutter. At least you’re not dreaming of him in ways you shouldn’t tonight. As soon as you think about it, you feel your cheeks heat up hotter than the flames from the fireplace.

After a little while Yoongi sighs, drawing your attention back to him. “You should sleep.”

“I thought I was.”

“Sort of. You’re more… dreamwalking right now. You’re not really resting.”

“Do I have to stay here?” The question is small. You don’t meet his eyes when you ask, suddenly filled with shame that you can’t even last a day in the world you’ve known for over twenty years. “There’s nothing for me here.”

“There is. You just have to find it again.”

“I don’t know how.”

Yoongi stands up. You look up at him and see that his expression is soft. Kind. Your heart speeds up, tongue heavy in your mouth as he slowly reaches out to you. His hand hesitates for a second, pauses in mid-air like he’s unsure, and then he touches your cheek lightly. “Trust me.”

Before you can respond, Yoongi is walking away. The skin on your cheek tingles where his fingers were a moment before, a shiver racing up your spine. You lift your hands to touch your cheek where his fingers were moments ago. You can’t help but smile, fondness for him growing. Blooming.

Leaning back in the chair, you close your eyes and settle into real sleep.

Tap tap tap.

You twitch your nose and roll your head to the side, sniffing. For a moment, it felt like something had been tapping your nose, almost waking you from sleep. You start to sink back into it, pulling your covers tighter as your thoughts drift… further…

Tap tap tap.

You frown. Now you’re awake, your thoughts clawing their way to break the surface of sleep. When you finally collect yourself and register that you’re waking up, you open your eyes to reveal a face hovering inches from yours, so close that you cannot make out the features.

A shriek rips through your room as you scramble away from the face, clutching your blanket. You slam into the wall near the window, heart hammering as you press yourself flat, trying to make yourself small.

Taehyung falls backwards on his ass, covering his ears and giving you a ghastly expression, as though horrified to be screamed at in such a manner. Your hand clutches your chest as you realize it’s him sitting on your floor and him who had been inches from your face - tapping your nose.

“What are you doing?” you holler at him, fisting your blankets. You suddenly feel sick, the adrenaline making your stomach turn and your head spin. Groaning, you lay on your side, squeezing your eyes shut. Colors coalesce behind your eyelids as you take deep breaths, hoping it will pass. “Are you insane?”

“Well, that is up for debate.”

You open your eyes and glare at him.

Taehyung sits with his long legs out in front of him, leaning back on his palms. His dark hair hangs in his eyes as he grins at you, giddy. He’s dressed in a flowing white shirt with laces at the front that he’s kept open, revealing a tanned chest. His shirt is tucked into brown trousers and you spot a small chain with a charm tied through one of his belt loops.

You think you recognize the charm from one of Yoongi’s necklaces.

“What are you doing here?”

“Visiting, obviously.”

“You can just… visit?”

“I do what I want.”

As the adrenaline rush fades, you slowly sit up, glaring at the man on your floor. “I doubt that. How did you get in here, anyway?”

“Your window is open.”

The window in question is still wide open from last night, only now, morning light streams through. The air is cool and smells of rain, the wind rushing through the trees and making them bend and dance under its guidance. A robin flits from bough to bough, singing.

“So you came through the window?”

“No, I came through the front door. No one else is home.”

“Then why did you say you came through the window?”

“I didn’t. I said the window was open.” Taehyung gives you a white, square grin. You clench your teeth and resist the urge to throw a pillow at him. Though you’re pleased to see him, you’re equally as vexed by his teasing. “Anyway, I want you to show me around.”

“Show you around what?”

He gets up from the floor, clapping his hands together to get rid of the dirt and dust before doing the same to his pants. He shrugs, giving you a cheery smile. “I don’t know. Anything. Everything. I want to see what your life here was like.”

“It wasn’t very good.”

“That’s okay. I want to see it anyway.”

Slowly, you get out of bed. He makes room for you, walking over toward the desk where your writing practice sheets are. He flips through them, examining your work as you eye him, stretching. Your joints pop and you groan, eyes fluttering at the release of tension.

“Why?” you ask. He looks up at you, brows raised in a question. “Why do you want to see?”

Taehyung contemplates his answer. He taps one long finger on top of your tracing. “You’re getting better.” He leans against the desk and crosses his arms, regarding you steadily. “I’ll make you a deal. Show me about your life here. Teach me about you. And I’ll tell you about me.”

That sparks your interest. You know so little about Taehyung, even in the two weeks that you’ve lived in the House of Dreams. He is a charming mystery, someone who speaks in riddles and likes to goad you and talk about so much that you realize he talks about nothing at all. At least, not anything substantial.

For the amount of things you know about Taehyung, like how he enjoys cinnamon in his tea or that his favorite color is green like the bottom of the lake, or how his favorite snacks are honey cakes or that music makes him cry, you also know… nothing about him. Where he comes from. Who he was before he was Yoongi’s companion in a big, lonely castle.

Sighing, you walk up to him and extend your arm. “Deal.”

Taehyung’s hand is warm and tingles when you shake it. He grins at you, happier than ever before he drops your hand and gestures at your clothes. “Well go on,” he says. “Change out of your nighties. Unless of course, you’d like to stay in them.”

“Get out of my room and I will!”

He raises his brows. “Don’t want me to watch? How boring.”

You don’t take his teasing to heart. You’ve already adapted to Taehyung’s jesting and prodding, learning that it’s a key part to the way that he shows his affections. For the first few days, you’d thought perhaps he didn’t like you much, but after seeing him rib Yoongi for two hours straight in the library, you realized it was good that he was teasing you.

You open the small trunk of clothes and slide on pants and a loose shirt. When you enter the main house, you find Taehyung standing on the porch with his arms crossed over his chest, looking into the woods with a frown. Tucking in your shirt, you step out onto the porch, the wood creaking underneath your weight.

“What is it?” you ask when Taehyung doesn’t turn to greet you. His eyes are dark and there’s an expression on his face that makes you nervous. “Is there something out there?”

Instead of answering directly, he asks, “Is that where Yoongi found you?”

Oh. Oh. Taehyung is looking at the woods where you ran off the night that your parents tried to make you marry Nathaniel. You nod and hum, trying not to think much about it as you finish tucking in the shirt and adjusting the material.

“There’s a bad energy there,” Taehyung observes. He turns away from the woods finally and drops his hands at his side. “You should stay away from that place moving forward.”

“I didn’t exactly go in there on purpose.”

“I know.” Something flashes in his eyes. “Best not to do it again, if you can help it. You can go into the woods, just not there.”

“Okay…”

You wait for Taehyung to elaborate, but he doesn’t. A chill settles over your skin, the wind picking up to rustle the trees. He shrugs and grins, the dark expression gone in a flash as he gestures for you to enter back through the house and leave by way of the front door.

Taheyung follows you, a bounce to his step as he hurries to walk next to you. You say nothing as you lead him out of the yard and toward the main road by your home that leads into town, your stomach fluttering with nervousness as you go.

If Taehyung is confused as to why you’re not starting the story of your life at home, he doesn’t let on. He tucks his hands into his pockets and walks next to you, his feet crunching the gravel beneath his boots and the wind lifting his hair.

Studying Taehyung’s side profile, you think he looks like something from a dream. He has the kind of beauty that seems purposeful and handcrafted, each one of his features carefully designed to be the wonderful, glowing being that he is.

You don’t know what he is, really. But you’ve made a deal and you have to deliver on your end first.

“We live a bit away from town,” you say eventually. “My father inherited the house after his father, who was a very talented wood carver. He used to cut the trees here himself and decide which tree was perfect for what project, which is why we live almost thirty minutes from town.”

“A wood carver is a nice talent to have.”

You nod. “He was very good. It made a good income. My father had no talent for it, though, and opened up a store instead. He sold my grandfather’s wares and then eventually added items from other folks in town, including my mother's clothes. She’s a seamstress.”

“You were wearing a dress the night Yoongi brought you home.”

Home. Taehyung says it so easily, like he’s already accepted that the House of Dreams is yours as much as it’s his. A warm feeling blooms through you, and you look up at Taehyung and smile at him despite the looming subject of the doomed wedding dress. He returns your smile just as broadly, even if he doesn’t know the reason for your sudden turn of happiness.

“Yeah. That was one she made,” you sigh, turning back to the road. “A wedding dress.”

“It was beautiful, but I did burn it in the fire.” You look at him with your brows raised and he gives you a sheepish shrug. “You were assaulted in that dress. We wanted nothing to do with it.”

“I’m glad that you did. I never want to remember that night again.”

“Good. Memories have a way of haunting us, even when we don’t know it.”

Taehyung’s tone is ominous. Instead of asking him what he means, you let his weighted silence fall around you, propelling the both of you toward the town.

As you get closer, houses and other roads begin to pop up. You see the pathways leading up to the homes of your neighbors, pointing out each one to Taehyung along with filling him in on summaries of their family histories and gossip. He listens with a conspiratorial smirk, gasping and asking you scandalous questions as you whisper rumors you’ve long heard from eavesdropping on your parents.

Gossiping with Taehyung is nice. You feel lighter than you had the day before, nearly skipping as you near the town proper. You start passing people on the road. Normally, you’d greet the ones you know. Now, you hear gasps as people flinch when they see you, making signs with their hands to ward off evil.

You blink in surprise, glancing at Taehyung for his reaction. He frowns when he sees the second group of people do it. By the third, he pulls a snarling face at them, making a child cry. You jam your finger in his ribs and he hisses in pain, shoving lightly back.

“What?” he demands. “You’re not evil. That sign doesn’t do anything, either. If one of the more malevolent deities wanted to snatch them, they would.”

“Really?”

Taehyung rubs his ribs where you poked him. You pass the bakery owned by the Yen family, heavenly smells wafting out the door. “Of course they would,” he huffs. “Most deities aren’t bound by the rules and logic the mortals try to make to create a sense of safety from them. Many can simply do what they want.”

“Then why don’t they?”

“Because of Eternals, like Yoongi. The gods who are always here, never changing. That’s why they’re called Eternals.”

“I see. There’s seven of them, right?” Taehyung hums the affirmative. As you pass a music shop, Taehyung slows. His hands are linked behind his back as he eyes the instruments through the window and gestures at them. You nod and follow him indoors, the bell on the door above chiming. “So other deities are afraid of them?”

“Of course they are,” Taehyung muses. He stops to admire a mandolin. “Yoongi, for example, is a being that creates dreams themselves. He manipulates reality. He can create things on a whim. He’s almost as powerful as life.”

“Really?”

“What are dreams if not creation? The difference isn’t all that big, though it drives Seokjin mad to admit it.”

“Who?”

Taehyung plucks the string of another instrument. You don’t know what it is, but the note is sharp, making you cringe. “Life, of course.”

“You know Life? What are you?”

He glances at you sidelong. “We’re supposed to learn about you first. I’m doing a lot of talking.”

“Not like it’s hard to get you going,” you mutter.

Taeyung shoots you a scowl, but is interrupted by the shop owner coming around the corner. He’s a man in his late thirties, greeting Taehyung politely and wiping his hands on his trousers. He asks Taehyung if he’s looking for anything and just as Taehyung leans out of the way to reveal you standing behind him, the shop owner’s eyes go to you and he gasps, stumbling backward.

“You’re supposed to be dead,” he whispers, his back bumping into a shelf of items. You feel a shiver slip down your spine as you stare at him, arms tingling. He makes the symbol to ward off evil, the whites of his eyes wild. “Evil. Evil creature, you are a demon. You do not-”

“Another word,” Taehyung cuts in, his voice dark in a tone you’ve never heard. “And I’ll show you what evil is, sir.”

“G-god of Light spare me.”

“Your God of Light won’t answer.” Taehyung spins on his heel, facing you. His expression is thunder, his gaze dark and eyes wild as he hisses, “Speak their name all you wish. It's not daytime in here, sir.”

For the two weeks you’ve known Taehyung, you’ve never seen him like this. The room feels oppressive and dark, and you swear the lights have dimmed, shadows pressing up against the wall as Taehyung strides forward and passes you, taking your arm firmly in his hand.

Taehyung escorts you out of the store, walking swiftly. When you hit daylight, the oppressive dark sheds itself immediately. Taehyung’s presence dims with the sun beating down on him and turning his skin copper, black hair shining almost blue in the light.

He lets go of your arm and shoots you a troubled gaze. “Don’t listen to him,” he grunts. “You’re not a demon, nor are you evil.”

“My parents called me the same thing.” He scowls and begins pacing. To keep him moving, you start walking toward the other side of town where the old cemetery and abandoned church is. You don’t know why you go there, but you’re drawn to it. “They called me a demon.”

“Demons are much nastier. You might be annoying, but certainly not a demon.”

You scowl and he shrugs. “I didn’t realize everyone here thought I died. I thought I would come back and it would be…”

“Normal?” You shrug a shoulder.

The houses on the edge of town are shabbier than the rest. People hesitate in their doorways, staring at you and the tall, handsome man next to you. You see them do the warding sign as you go, and you squeeze your hands into fists as they do.

Weeds crawl up the side of the old church. The structure leans heavily to the left, the stairs unusable and the ceiling fallen in. Instead of walking up the hazardous steps and inside the dilapidated building, you lead Taehyung around it, where the grass grows higher than your knees and the sound of grasshoppers buzzing by you follows.

A dry-rotted fence surrounds what was once a graveyard. You walk toward it, leading Taehyung until he starts slowing down a few paces behind you. You stop and turn over your shoulder to look at him, bringing your hand up to shield your eyes from the sun.

Taehyung looks thoughtful, dark eyes scanning the area. He’s stopped walking entirely, head cocked to the side. “Why’d you bring me here?”

“I don’t know. I just… walked in this direction. I used to come here for the silence, sometimes.”

Taehyung has a strange look on his face. “Is that so?”

“Why do you look like that?”

“How long has this place been here?”

“The church closed before I could remember. Honestly, they said it was haunted by this graveyard, which has been here a lot longer than the church. Even the oldest families in town don’t have their dead buried here. Rumor has it that it was built long before the town was.”

Taehyung starts walking normally again. Side by side, you begin to navigate around the graveyard. “And you come here? Why?”

“It’s quiet. When I was too young to stay at the house alone, my mom would bring me to town while she ran errands. I was allowed to explore, but I liked to come here.”

“Most kids are afraid of places of the dead.”

You shrug. “It was quiet, and it gave me time to imagine things. I liked to make up fantasies about the old gods here or… what I imagined they might be. Of heroes descended from them, maybe.”

“And you felt drawn here?”

You startle when a grasshopper shoots across the grass in front of you. You laugh as it vanishes into the foliage. “Yeah, it just felt… safe.”

“Strange.”

“Am I allowed to ask why or are you going to complain you’re talking too much again?” He snorts and gestures for you to continue. “Why is that strange? Beyond the fact that it’s, you know, a graveyard.”

Sighing, Taehyung squints up at the line of trees nearby. His hand hovers along the tops of the grass as he runs it over each blade, letting the tips tickle his hands. You’re almost waist high in grass, glancing down to make sure you don’t step into any holes.

“This place is old. The people of the church felt haunted because they were. Death owns this land.”

You frown. “Well, the dead are here. The other graveyard doesn’t feel the same.”

“You misunderstand me. Death - the Eternal. His presence is all over. Someone important to him must be buried here.”

“Oh.”

You stop and think about that. Turning to look at the unmarked and lime washed tombstones, you scan for any sign of Death. You have no idea what you’re looking for. Ivy and time have taken over most of the concrete slabs, and none of the names or dates are legible by now. They’re just hewn stone, buried in green and grime.

But you feel something here, a tingling on the back of your neck like the one you felt in the woods by your house. A chill wind blows over the land, sweeping the grass and rattling the trees. You feel the breeze against your neck, cool as fingers trailing down your spine.

Suddenly, you feel a buzz on your skin. It’s not so different from Yoongi’s presence, and it chills you.

You look up at Taehyung with wide, fearful eyes. He smiles and shakes his head. “You don’t need to be afraid of Death. Death is neither good nor bad, he just is. He only takes those who are ready.”

“Have you met - um - Death?”

Taehyung nods. “He is a man of few words, but Namjoon is unwaveringly kind and wise.”

“Strange that I was drawn to coming here.” You head back toward the town. The sun passes its zenith and makes its way into the early afternoon. “Is this whole place filled with Eternals or what?”

“No, it’s actually a rather unremarkable location. Namjoon lingers in many places. Yoongi was simply drawn here.”

“By what?”

Instead of answering the question, Taehyung sticks his hands in his pockets. “Show me more of your town.”

So you do. Taehyung is a good companion. Where Yoongi would quietly observe and make sounds to indicate that he’s listening and admires the things you’re talking about, Taehyung asks questions. You realize he’s a tactile person as well. He touches things as he walks by them, brushing his fingers on fabric, touching jewelry at vendor stands.

Everywhere you go is a similar reaction to the instrument store. People seem happy to see Taehyung at first before they see you, fear making them lean away and ward you off. You realize you don’t know how much time has passed since you vanished from the woods and returned.

When you ask Taehyung, he shrugs and explains that time moves differently and inconsistently. It could have been a day, it could have been a week, it could have been five months. By the looks on the faces of those you pass, you think perhaps it’s been a little longer than you anticipated.

Part of you wonders what lie your parents must have told them about your death. You almost want to ask, but you don’t, anxiety stilling your tongue. You probably wouldn’t be able to get close enough to anyone to ask anyway.

By the time the sun has sunk beyond the horizon and the moon has begun its climb, you and Taehyung stop at the tavern to eat. Your stomach rumbles as you step into the warmth of the room behind Taehyung, and you notice that the place goes quiet.

It’s subtle at first, something you don’t notice as you kick dirt off your shoes, but the hush becomes so intense that you can’t help but look up, gaze sweeping the room as everyone turns to stare at you.

Behind the counter, the barkeep straightens. His name is Sloan - you’ve known him since you were a little girl - and he looks less than happy at your arrival.

“I know I’m pretty,” Taehyung announces loudly, tossing the hair out his eyes. “But you don’t need to stare.”

“You aren’t welcome here,” Sloan says, voice wavering like he’s unsure if he means it. “Begone, demon. We are men and women of life and light!”

You swallow thickly and look around, feeling prickly heat crawl up your neck.

Like at the music shop, something happens to Taehyung, except this time, it’s stronger than before. The candles in the chandelier and on the tables flicker in a phantom wind and darkness pulses in the room. You feel energy rolling off of him and you swear Taehyung gets darker as he steps forward, his presence oppressive and threatening.

There is crying and gasping in the room as he seethes. “We are not demons, and you will not disallow this woman to enter your shops, your homes, or anywhere else she wishes.”

“Taehyung,” you whisper, throat dry.

He doesn’t seem to hear you. You swear there is thunder in the distance. Whatever power belonging to Taehyung is tenfold now that the night sky stretches over the tavern. “Refuse her service, and there will be consequences.”

“Taehyung,” you hiss, snatching his sleeve. You pull his attention to you. His eyes are like two obsidian coins. There is something sharp and lupine about his face, sending your heart hammering. “Stop. This is making it worse.”

“They should not insult you.”

“It’s fine.”

He softens a touch. “It isn’t. You are not… they do not understand you.”

“They never have. Come on, let’s just go.”

For a second, you think he might not. You don’t know what Taehyung is or what he can do. It doesn’t frighten you, though. Because whatever Taehyung is and whatever his intentions are, he’s linked to Yoongi. Yoongi would never put you in harm's way or let Taehyung near you if he was a threat.

Even after such a short period of time, you know this in your heart of hearts.

Taehyung relents and the light returns to the room. No one makes a sound, all eyes on Taehyung as he lets you pull him out of the door and into the night. You immediately feel better outside, the moon washing your skin in light and the stars watching you march into the street.

“You can’t just threaten everyone who insults me,” you snap, though you’re not really mad at him. “They’re only going to hate me more. And they will think you’re a demon when you do that.”

“I’m far more powerful than a demon,” he sniffs primly. “And they should not insult you. You have the favor of Dream. You are -” he cuts himself off and shakes his head. “Well, you’re far above their station. They know nothing.”

“Far above their station,” you snort, crushing a rock under the toe of your boot. “I’m a girl who was strange when they knew me before they thought I was dead, and now they think I’m a demon walking around with her scary demon husband. Or perhaps they think you are an evil entity.”

“Don’t make that joke around Yoongi,” Taehyung mutters, putting his hands on his hips. Before you can ask what that means, he says, “What if I took you somewhere instead, then?”

You raise your brows and look around. “Where?”

“Well not here. Somewhere familiar to me, where they won’t ostracize you.”

“We’re going to travel in the middle of the night.”

Taehyung gives you a square grin that lights up the world. “Time to learn about how we travel.”

You almost vomit on Taehyung’s shoes. He squeals and steps out of the way as you bend over, holding your middle as bile burns its way up your throat and splatters onto the gravel beneath you. It feels like your world is spinning and you’ve lost your center of gravity, having been pulled by something sharp in your stomach into a vortex of what felt like twisting and spinning.

It could only have lasted a second, but Taehyung has to hold you up for a moment as you gasp for air, the taste in your mouth sour and gross. You crane your face to look at him, glaring as he winces. He had given you no warning of what his travel was like or how it would feel.

You’re not looking forward to it again.

“What,” you pant, “was that?”

“Teleportation, mostly. I kind of forgot what it feels like when you’re… human. You get a little scrambled.”

The nausea makes your throat clench and unclench again. You dig your fingers into his arm as you dry heave but nothing comes up. “A little?” you rasp. The world slows its spinning and the watering feeling in your mouth that preludes puking fades. “That was awful.”

“Sorry, it’s different than portaling. That’s more stepping through the door while teleportation is like... Jumping.”

“Don’t jump me again any time soon.”

Taehyung pats your back heartily as you stand up straight. The stars swim above you in a spiraling cosmos. You close your eyes and take a few deep breaths, waiting as the nausea fades away and the world around you bleeds into the forefront of your attention span.

Noise hums from in front of you. You’re standing in an alleyway, looking up at the side of a building. It looks a bit like an inn, but you can hear the clamor of a crowd and loud voices coming from inside. Each window is curtained, keeping wandering eyes and the moonlight outside.

Taehyung leads you around to the front of the building. It’s two stories and on the first floor there’s a porch filled with chairs and gambling tables. There are men and women draped over the furniture, smoking sweet-smelling cigars and laughing loudly as they throw dice on the table.

Women and men in various states of undress sit on the laps of the others. You feel heat crawl up your neck as you avert your eyes, looking up at the sign hanging over the building that says Desert Rose. Nervousness tingles at the back of your neck as Taehyung strolls up the steps to what you’re sure is a brothel and a gambling den, greeting people as he goes.

You’re shocked that Taehyung knows people here. You’re sure that you’re still in… your dimension, as Yoongi calls it. The people here talk with an accent that is different from what you’re used to, but you still understand the language, even while struggling to keep up with the lilt.

Eyes follow you as Taehyung leads you inside. The air is thick with perfume, smoke, and loud voices. Tables are pressed closely together, filled with people. There’s a bar at the back of the room and a small bard and band in a corner, singing a raucous song with the crowd about Lady Trown who gets around and will go down.

“Where did you bring me?” you ask Taehyung as he guides you through the rowdy room. A woman falls over a card game laughing, her breasts spilling out of her shirt while another woman plants a kiss right on her mouth. “This place is - is -”

There are no words for it. You’ve never been somewhere that is so openly indecent and carnal in your life and yet… the colors and the sounds and the overflowing joy hit you like an arrow to the chest. You can’t help but be drawn to look at the exposed bodies before darting your gaze away, only to be drawn somewhere else out of insatiable curiosity.

“A haven!” Taehyung offers as he leans on the bar. “Two pints of whatever!”

You press close against him, hands shooting to his shirt as someone pushes by you. It’s a little overwhelming and you feel hot all over. Taehyung shoves a wooden tankard of amber liquid into your hands and grins, raising another to his lips before taking several swigs, liquid running down his chin and neck.

He comes away and smacks his lips, giving you a delighted grin. “It’s awful, just the way I like it!”

You take a sip and make a face. The watered-down ale is certainly nothing like the sweet wine Yoongi likes to treat you to over dinner. Taehyung seems to know this, laughing loudly as he leads you through the crowd toward an empty table in the corner.

Back against the wall, you take a moment to look around the room. There are card and dice games being held at multiple tables, alongside other games with rune-marked stones, cups and trinkets that you don’t recognize.

It’s wildly different from anything back home. You’ve never been to a brothel - at least, you think this place qualifies for one, based on the various states of undress and a few couples doing something that makes you avert your eyes - but this is nice. In its own loud and carnal way.

Taehyung people-watches with you. He feeds you information on the faces that he recognizes, lips curling as he gossips. He looks alive and happy, his golden skin glowing with a radiance that seems a little magical.

“So is it my turn to ask questions?” you ask, sipping the awful beer as you look over at Taehyung. His gaze reluctantly strays away from watching a card game where you’re pretty sure the woman who is winning is cheating. “Or do I still have to talk about myself?”

He smirks. “You can ask questions, a deal is a deal.”

“What is this place?”

“The Desert Rose.”

You glare. “What is this place to you?”

Taehyung takes a sip of his ale and grins, winking at you. “A better question. This place is somewhere I used to visit when I wanted to feel alive. When I wanted to feel humanity for its raw intensity.”

“So you’re not human.” He shakes his head. His face grows a little hesitant, but he doesn’t tell you to stop. “What are you?”

“I’m a dream.”

You blink once. Twice. You expect Taehyung to start laughing and indicate that he was teasing you, but he doesn’t. He leans back in his chair, watching you evenly with his dark eyes.

“What?” you finally ask.

“I’m a dream. The second ever, actually.”

You think about what you’ve observed of Taehyung. The way that he seems to draw people in, the animated manner in which he speaks. He seems to contain so many multitudes of the things you know that Yoongi enjoys, and yet so many things that press Yoongi’s buttons and rattle him.

Taehyung is… beautiful. Enchanting. Both to look at, and to talk to. He has a carefree personality and you know he’s magical, having witnessed it in the House of Dreams in snippets but also today, when he became angry and the darkness seemed to swell around him. Not to mention his awful teleportation to wherever you are in the world now.

He is exactly the kind of person you always imagined being the lead in your fantasies. Brave and charming, handsome and adventurous. He looks like he belongs here, melding to the energy around him, fitting in perfectly.

Suddenly, the thought of Taehyung being a dream makes more sense than anything else. A being of infinite possibilities, one who can shape themselves to anyone and anything, who can sense what people want and become that very thing.

You’re not sure what the complexities of dreams are, but you understand the very basics from Yoongi: most dreams are flexible and full of infinite possibilities. It’s what makes them so real, so strong.

“That makes a lot of sense,” you murmur. “So you’re old.”

“Very.”

“If you’re the second dream…” you trail off, thinking about how Yoongi explained how he came to existence. How life dreamed and so he was born. “Yoongi is the first. That’s why you say he is Dream - he is the first and the essence of dreams.”

“Very clever.”

“When you said you came here to feel alive, what did you mean by that?”

He sighs heavily. “Yoongi was born because Life dreamed of - well, making life. And when Yoongi was born, he was the very concept of dreaming itself. Imagination, creation, wonder, hope. It’s why creation and dreaming are so close in their nature. But still, there is a difference between lifeforms and dreams.”

“You wanted to know what it was like to feel life?”

He nods. “Yoongi made me as his first companion. He couldn’t help it, really. He didn’t make me on purpose so much as he thought of someone to spend time with, someone to offset him. To balance him. And then there I was.”

You chew on your lip. There is a distant look in Taehyung’s gaze. He stares at his ale, not drinking anymore. He picks at splinters in the tankard handle, the noise around the two of you a dull roar.

“But?” you offer, sensing his hesitance.

“But,” he agrees, nodding. “When Life created humans, I wondered what the difference was between us. I sort of looked like them and I talked like them, but I wanted to know what it was like to be them. And dreams… They are wonderful. Beautiful. But I was afraid they weren’t real, so I started to visit here. To go places. To see if life was the same as dreams.”

“Is it?”

He shakes his head. “It’s not better, it’s not worse. It’s just different. But I did learn that dreams are as real as life. Perhaps you cannot always see them and feel them depending on where you are, but anything someone dreams here is real there.”

“That’s sort of comforting.”

Taehyung smiles. “It is. Plus, I really enjoy people. They have an edge to them that dreams don’t.”

Someone catches Taehyung’s attention. He turns in his seat, head craning as though he senses something. You follow his line of sight to where a young man descends the stairs leading up to the second floor. He is unlike anything you’ve ever seen, with dark, silky hair tucked behind his ears, full lips that pull into a smile as someone greets him, and sharp, dark eyes that crinkle when he laughs.

He’s beautiful. Suddenly you think that this might be what a dream truly looks like. Taehyung is all dark and shadows, but the man Taehyung watches is lightness and magic, his face so perfect that you cannot help but imagine it must be the result of someone carefully painting every feature.

Your eyes flicker back to Taehyung when the man leans on the bar, talking to the barmaid behind the counter. Taehyung doesn’t move. You don’t even think he’s breathing. He sits in his chair, knuckles paling under the grip he has on the back of his seat, his eyes filled with such sudden longing that you have to look away.

“Who is that?” you ask gently. Taehyung doesn’t seem to hear you. He watches and watches, wanting to look nowhere else but at the bar. “Taehyung?”

“His name is Jimin.”

“That’s a pretty name.”

Taehyung nods. “He’s like you.”

“Like me?”

“He dreams loud enough for us to hear it. For me to hear it. I’ve been coming to this place long before he existed. A silly coincidence that he exists here, too.”

“Fate, perhaps?”

That makes Taehyung turn around. His expression is dark and he’s frowning. “Don’t start talking about Hoseok,” Taehyung mutters. “Lest he show up.”

You didn’t mean Yoongi’s sibling Fate, but you realize that’s who Taehyung is talking about. Your eyes drift back to where Jimin is at the bar, sipping a glass of amber liquid. As though he senses eyes on him, his gaze sweeps the bar until it lands on Taehyung, who straightens immediately.

Jimin smiles and it’s like watching the first ray of sun break over the horizon. You can’t help but blink at his radiant beauty, completely taken aback by it as Jimin pushes off of the bar and begins heading your direction.

Taehyung swivels in his chair, taking in a few calming breaths. You giggle and he looks up at you, giving you a pitiful smile. You reach across the table and squeeze his hand quickly. “Don’t be nervous.”

“I’m not nervous!”

“You definitely are.”

Before Taehyung can hiss a rebuttal at you, Jimin sidesteps a woman and grins at Taehyung. He drags his gaze to you and startles, as though he had not realized you were there, eyes going round and mouth forming an ‘o’.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize you were with anyone,” Jimin says. His voice is soft and smooth, immediately comforting. “I wanted to come say hello.”

“Hi,” Taehyung breathes, blinking up at Jimin as though he is lost in starlight. Perhaps he is, you think. “Your hair is longer than the last time I saw you.”

Jimin flushes, a hand coming up to touch the ends of his hair gently. “Yeah, I thought I would grow it out.”

“It looks great.”

For a moment, they stare at one another, Taehyung grinning with his eyes gleaming, and Jimin soft with his eyes scrunched. You look at the table, trying not to disrupt whatever spell they’re under as they peer at one another, but it seems Jimin senses your presence still. His eyes flicker to you and he raises a brow, questioning.

Taehyung fumbles to introduce you, turning and giving you a sheepish grin. You smile and stretch your hand over to shake Jimin’s. His hands are small and delicate but his grip is firm. “It’s nice to meet you. Taehyung wanted to show me this place because he enjoys the people so much - I believe that includes you.”

Jimin smirks and shrugs a shoulder while Taehyung looks for a chair, yanking it away from someone to give Jimin a place to sit. He does, throwing Taehyung a grateful smile. “Hmm, is that so? Has he said nice things about me?”

“The nicest. In fact, the whole reason we came here is because he wanted to introduce me to the amazing Jimin.”

Taehyung shoots you a look that tells you to shut up, but you hide your grin in your tankard as Jimin raises a brow, glancing at Taehyung.

Watching Taehyung and Jimin is comedic and sweet. Taehyung isn’t an entirely different person around Jimin, but he becomes softer at the edges, his smiles gentler and his laughs louder. The longing in Taehyung’s gaze when he thinks Jimin isn’t looking is palpable, and even as a bystander and a friend, you feel a pang watching the two of them dance around one another.

For his part, Jimin seems equally enthralled. He watches Taehyung with rapt attention, asking questions and touching Taehyung gently everywhere he can - the tops of Taehyung’s hands, his arm, his elbow. When Taehyung turns around to watch the table next to you topple over, you realize he’s unaware that Jimin is looking at him as though begging for Taehyung to see.

You see. And you want.

Never before had your parents inspired much desire for love in you. While they worked well together, you still can’t call what they had happy or loving. Functional, sure. Successful, even. But they did not look at one another the way Taehyung and Jimin seem to, and you can’t help but suddenly feel like that is something you want.

Someone to look at you when they think you’re not looking in a way that implies you are their sun and moon. Someone who smiles with such mirth at something you do or say that you can feel the heat of it.

Jimin gets up to refill the drinks, scooping yours with a grin before vanishing in the crowd. Taehyung watches him go, craning his neck to ensure he has eyes on Jimin as he makes his way to the bar.

“Have you told him you’re in love with him?”

Taehyung shakes his head, eyes never leaving where Jimin is leaning over the bar to order. “There’s no point.”

“What? Why not?”

“I’m a dream. He’s a human. We could never be something.”

“Oh. Surely there’s a way?”

Taehyung turns to look at you, the joy on his face slipping to be replaced with a soft sadness. He shakes his head again, picking at the splinters on the table. “I would be no good for him. We live in two different worlds… I come and go… He deserves a normal, human life. We could never be something.”

Jimin starts to head back toward the table. Taehyung shakes off the melancholy and smiles just as bright when Jimin returns, as though he wasn’t sad only a moment ago. You accept the refilled drink from Jimin with a weak smile.

Taehyung’s words cycle through your mind as the two men fall into giggling conversation, and all you can think about is a pair of dark cat eyes, a soft raspy voice, and a man who is made of dreams.

We could never be something.

“I was starting to worry, you know?”

Yoongi’s voice makes you blink. You realize you’re standing among the wisteria, the breeze carrying their sweet scent over your warm skin. You turn to look at him over your shoulder. He’s leaning against a tree, his long hair down and dancing in the breeze. The thin white shirt he wears does little to hide the lines of his stomach and chest today, making you avert your eyes.

“Why?” you ask, voice steadier than you feel.

You walk toward a low-hanging vine, bringing your hands up to brush along the purple petals. You feel the tree shiver under your touch. You sense it, like it purrs, a response that is hard to explain but you innately know.

“It took you longer than usual to fall asleep.”

“Can you not see me when I’m not asleep?”

“I could, but prying is rude. I only see you when you come to me.”

You turn to look at him sharply. He seems a little smug at that, the corners of his full lips twitching like he’s fighting a smirk. Your heart skips a beat for a moment before Taehyung’s words from that night play in your mind. We could never be something.

And yet Yoongi is implying it’s you who visits him.

You scowl and turn away from him suddenly. Yoongi makes a sound like a sigh and pushes off of the tree, his footsteps quiet as a whisper. “Have I upset you?”

“I want to go to sleep.”

He hesitates. You cannot see his expression, but you can picture it perfectly: brows drawn together, mouth pouted slightly, head cocked. His confusion is evident when he says, “You are asleep.”

“You know what I mean.”

Silence, for a moment. Then, in that soft, rasping voice that you know so well, he murmurs, “Goodnight, then.”

Silence greets you when you wake up the next morning. Your home is still empty - you have not seen either of your parents since you arrived the night before. Either you’re coming and going at hours they’re not around or they’re avoiding you. The latter is most likely, and you certainly don’t mind.

Your day goes similarly to the day before. This time, when you walk through the woods, you feel a little more of a spark. You’re sure it has to do with your conversation with Taehyung, his words about dreams and reality being different but equally powerful pouring a little bit of magic back into the woods you loved so dearly.

Still, you miss the other realm and the House of Dreams, even if you’re a little embarrassed by your dream last night, recalling the way you dismissed Yoongi.

Sitting on the ground with your back pressed against a cypress tree, you let out a heavy sigh and close your eyes, your arms hugging around your middle. You try not to think too hard about the way Yoongi looked leaning against the tree, dark eyes drinking you in.

Yoongi occupies more than his fair share of thoughts. You hate it, the way your mind strays to him, thinking this is something Yoongi would like or Yoongi would find this funny. Only two weeks and he and Taehyung are suddenly all you know, your experiences with them painting most of your thoughts.

Thoughts of Taehyung don’t plague you, though.

The fluttering feeling every time you think of Yoongi has not faded with time or distance. It might be easier if he didn’t visit your dreams every night - or if you didn’t visit him in your dreams, which you don’t know how to do.

But Taehyung’s forlorn words come drifting back to you, reminding you that there is some distinction between humans and dreams. That even for Taehyung, it cannot work.

When you return home, your parents still aren’t there. You busy yourself with lunch and then begin practicing your letters, tracing them until your hand is cramping and your head is starting to hurt. You manage to take up most of the afternoon that way, focused solely on your studies and trying to read through your work.

Just as evening falls, Taehyung appears in the yard, hands on his hips as he looks up at your window, whistling to catch your attention. You grin when you see him, happy to have a friend, even if it’s just Taehyung. You don’t ask why Yoongi doesn’t come with him - the Eternal is busy, you’re sure - but you’re pleased to just have Taehyung.

It becomes a routine. It’s not as thrilling as your life in the House of Dreams, but it isn’t as terrible as you thought it would be. The few times that you do see your parents, they glare at you as though you have become something evil in their house, lurking and stealing their joy.

You say nothing to them and they stay away from you.

It’s the same in town. You only visit with Taehyung, otherwise you are too afraid to go on your own. The villagers say nothing when they see the two of you walking around and visiting the old church, but they glare and you catch them doing the signs to ward off evil as you pass by.

Still, Taehyung makes it worth it. He visits you nightly, whisking you away to the Desert Rose, which has become a refuge for you. You’re no better at teleporting, but you manage not to vomit on his shoes each time you do it.

Tonight, the energy is thrumming at the Desert Rose. Your gaze lingers longer on those around you and you even introduce yourself to the people that Taehyung is familiar with. Though Taehyung opts to play a game of dice, you do not. You’re content to watch, standing over his shoulder with your arms crossed over your chest.

You feel… alive. Just like Taehyung described when he started coming here. It’s so different from your life before, and after over a week of being around people who seem to spill over with joy without restraint, you feel yourself loosening up. Becoming something a little different. Someone who wants. Someone who wants openly.

You think about Yoongi. Once he’d told you that he wasn’t just Eternal of dreams. He also has power over desire, and he believes in indulgence. He wants to teach you to indulge more. It suddenly makes all the more sense that Taehyung likes it here. He’s someone who dives in head first to things, taking any bet someone throws his way and snatching drinks off of passing trays.

Even his desire for Jimin is open and obvious, though you’re sure Taehyung doesn’t know that.

It’s a lovely night. You feel warm all over, the drink getting to you as you guzzle down the remainder of your cider, which you favor far more than the ale. Jimin clambors onto the table, a cup in hand as he starts yelling the words to the song the band is playing in the corner.

Taehyung begins to slam his wooden cup on the table in time with the beat, yelling the words and standing up as the room joins in, stamping their feet and slamming on tables. You don’t know the words but you laugh loudly, slamming your palms against the top of the table. They sting with the force of your slap, but it feels good.

You feel good. Happy. Drunk. A little dizzy as the table wobbles and you dive out of the way as Jimin comes tumbling down. It doesn’t stop you from taking a shower of beer from Jimin’s cup, dousing you in warm liquid as you shriek and laugh.

Taehyung catches Jimin, of course. They’re a tangled mess of limbs and wet with beer all the same, pointing at you and laughing as you blink through the drink dripping down your face. You flick beer at them with the liquid on your hands, making them howl.

“Gross! Jimin!”

“I’m so sorry,” he gasps through the laughter, his arms slung tight around Taehyung’s neck as Jimin leans into him. “I slipped!”

“You owe me a new shirt!”

Jimin nods, grinning so broadly his eyes are crescents as he stands properly and beckons you. “Come on, both of you. I’ll get you new shirts that aren’t soaked.

Upstairs is a series of private rooms. The hall is lit with flickering sconces and the plush carpet mutes your footsteps. Jimin leads you and Taehyung, giggling, to a door. He thrusts it open and the three of you tip inside, stopping short at the scene in front of you.

Your hands fly to your mouth to mute your gasp, but Taehyung and Jimin collapse into another fit of laughter. If the two people in the bed are bothered by the interruption, they don’t show it. They are a tableau of pleasure, a woman laying back on the bed, arching upward as she lets out a moan. Her skin is slick with sweat, nipples hard as she teases them with one hand, another hand slipping between her legs to cradle the head of someone there.

The shock roots you to the spot. You can’t look away, completely hypnotized by the way the person between the woman’s legs moans, pressing their mouth further into her, the wet smack of their mouth loud over the woman’s trembling moans.

You’ve never seen such a raw, carnal exchange. As Taehyung apologizes and grabs you and Jimin, pulling you back out into the hallway, you know you’ll never forget that momentary vision. Even as Jimin directs you to the right room to change your shirt in, you replay the scene over and over in your head, thinking of a different detail every single time: the pleasure on the woman’s face, the delicate bow of her back, the soft swells of her breasts, the wet sounds of the mouth between her legs.

It haunts you. You swallow thickly when you’re done changing, skin still smelling like beer. Your mind wanders to Yoongi, wondering if this is what he was talking about when he spoke of desire. If he also meant physical desire, the indulgence of the erotic variety.

The thought shames you so thoroughly you’re silent the rest of the night. You’re embarrassed by your immediate curiosity - angry that you even entertained the thought of being in that position with Yoongi, no matter how fleeting the idea was.

Yoongi certainly did not mean he was going to teach you that - did he?

You shake the thoughts from your head and focus on reality. Of course he didn’t mean that. Taehyung was right when he spoke about the relationships between humans and dreams - it could never be something.

Sweat trickles down your neck slowly. You feel every inch of it, your skin sensitive and over-warm. Your stomach clenches and your hands twist in your sheets as a hot mouth presses against your throat, teeth scraping, tongue licking.

An inferno grows inside of you as the mouth sinks lower. You hear your heaving breaths, loud and ragged. Your heart beats in your ears, the staccato almost louder than the whimper that leaves your mouth when a wet, messy kiss is placed on your collarbone.

It’s madness. It’s tortuous. It’s glorious, this feeling thrumming through you, making you twist your head to the side, muscles clenching and letting loose over and over again, your body completely at war with itself.

But it feels so good.

One of your hands shoots to the silky, dark hair of the person kissing your chest. You card your fingers through soft strands, tugging a little. A deep, throaty moan escapes the lips pressed to your skin, breath hot and warm.

Dark eyes meet yours, lips parted and swollen, Yoongi’s pupils blown and -

Panic explodes. You realize it’s Yoongi kissing you this way. Yoongi’s hands skimming up your sides, Yoongi’s mouth pressing searing kisses to your flesh, Yoongi’s moan that is falling from his lips, honey sweet.

“We can’t,” you whisper, though dream-Yoongi just stares at you, eyes fathomless. “We could never be something.”

“Of course we can,” he murmurs, tilting his head to the side. “You are everything I’ve ever dreamed of.”

The weight of his gaze is blazing. You feel your skin burn under the heat of it, you feel like it’s harder to breathe, you feel the sweat run down your spine, your arms, you feel like you’re overheating, it’s hot it’s too-

You wake up to something screeching. For a moment, daylight blinds you. You hold your hands in front of your face, shielding your eyes from the light. But the light is an inferno of heat against your hand, making you gasp and choke on thick air as you blink sleep away, trying to make sense of where you are.

Fire. It isn’t daylight you’ve woken up to, it’s fire.

Leaping up from bed, you throw your sheets off, scrambling to push yourself against the wall. The flames are already high, licking toward the ceiling and filling your room with thick, grey smoke as the fire eats at the old wood of your house.

The screech comes again, the shutters on your window rattling. Heart pounding, you slide your hand along the wall, fingers trembling as you press them into the wood, trying to find the metal latch to open them. You cover the lower half of your face with your opposite arm, coughing into it.

Your fingers slip on the latch, sweaty and shaking. You inch closer to the window, getting a solid grip on the metal and flipping it upward. The latch clacks and the windows swing open, a gust of wind entering the room. It makes matters worse, the oxygen fueling the fire into a rage as it climbs higher and jumps towards your bed.

You look frantically around your room, realizing you can’t take anything. The writing desk in the corner is aflame, all of the sheets of paper and your hard-earned practice curling into smoke as they’re consumed, your letters from Yoongi turning to ash.

“No!” you sob, realizing those things are lost forever.

Again, there’s a wild screech. You turn to look out the window to see a large, brown owl - Guardian, you realize - screeching, flapping its great wings, gold eyes fixated on the fire. It yells at you again, as though imploring you to move.

You take a breath and dive out the window. For a moment as you fall toward the ground, you’re reminded that this is the second time you’re having to use it to escape danger. That thought sinks like a stone in your stomach, going down, down, down until it rests weighty in your gut.

The smack of the ground rattles you. Every part of you hurts, bones jolting as you roll until you’re flat on your back, gasping as the air leaves your lungs momentarily, knocked out of you. Scrambling up despite your limbs protesting in pain, you look up at the fire crawling over your house.

That’s when you notice it - the noise and the yelling of voices. Inside your home, with the roaring and crackling of the fire, you couldn’t hear the crowd outside. Now, you see them in full. They carry torches and farm tools, some of them with axes and hoes, others with scythes.

They don’t see you yet, giving you a long moment to stare open-mouthed as the pieces of the puzzle slide together. They’ve set your home on fire because of you - they’ve tried to kill you. Because they think you’re a demon and because they think you’re an evil creature.

Heart in your throat, you scan the lines of the faces. Toward the edge, you see your parents. A group of women consoles your mother, holding her by the shoulders gently as she stares into the orange flame. Your father stands a few feet away, almost by himself, watching and watching and watching.

They knew you were asleep. And your window had not been closed before bed - you’d been leaving it open at night so Guardian could come and go as he pleased.

You sit there on the ground, staring in shock, for too long. Someone notices you and points, screaming something that you cannot hear over the blood rushing in your ears. Panic seizes you and you scramble to your feet, sliding a few times as the crowd runs at you.

There’s no time to see what your parents do. The image of them watching their home burn with the thought of you inside is fresh in your memory, a razor-sharp cut that flays you open as you turn and run. Run toward the woods where Nathaniel chased you on that fateful night.

Run to the woods you almost died in. Run to the woods where Yoongi swooped in and made a promise to protect you.

Darkness descends. You think for a moment as you enter the woods that you won’t get lucky a second time, that your luck has run out. It’s the panic that scrambles your thoughts, and the memories of Nathaniel chasing you through these woods make you stumble and fall.

You don’t make it far. You trip over a tree root and tumble into strong arms. The smell of clove and cinnamon is overpowering as you look up at Yoongi, who pulls you into his chest. You let him, sliding your arms around his middle and pressing your face into his neck as you squeeze your eyes shut.

“I’ve got you, little lamb.” His voice is dark as the shadows that wrap around you, cool and soothing to the touch. “They cannot hurt you.”

As Yoongi whisks you away like that fateful night, you hear the echoing voice scream behind you. Devil! Demon King! The Dark God!

“It’s my fault,” Yoongi murmurs, cradling your face to inspect it for the tenth time. He’s crouching in front of you, dark eyes wild as he inspects your face for any damage. You pull your jaw from his grasp - even if his touch tingles pleasantly - and look in the other direction. “I should have known.”

“Yes,” Taehyung snaps behind Yoongi, arms crossed and presence thundering. “You should have.”

There is no fire going in the library tonight. You have a feeling Yoongi has extinguished it for obvious reasons, but you say nothing. You look over Yoongi’s dark head to where Taehyung is raging, his face pinched with anger. You give him a look and he tosses his hands in the air.

“What?” he demands. “It’s true.”

“Taehyung.”

“I’m not going to lie to him. He should have known sending you back was an idiotic idea. Thinking anyone would have accepted you was an oversight.”

Yoongi grits his teeth and stands. You watch as he visibly tries to control his frustration, taking a step back from you. Tonight, he’s dressed in all black. His cloak is still on and his necklaces pool at his throat, the silver cold in the dark of the library. His hair is pulled back out of his face and you think he looks like the real Eternal, tonight.

He turns to Taehyung. “You know why I sent her back.”

“Yes, your fucked up sense of morality and-”

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not sitting right here,” you snap. You ball your fists in your lap. You’re still dressed in night clothes and the scent of ash and sweat is heavy on your skin. You stare at your hands. “I want to go to bed.”

“Alright.” Yoongi’s extended hand appears in front of you. You drag your eyes up to meet his. Gone is the anger and severity, replaced only with a soft, almost fond expression. “I’ll walk you.”

Putting your hand in Yoongi's, you let him pull you out of the chair.

You could be mad at him if you tried. Perhaps it would be easy to blame Yoongi for sending you back to keep some semblance of normalcy in your life. Maybe you would feel lighter if you got angry with him for promising to protect you, but only being able to physically do so, unable to shield you from the hatred of your community.

If you tried, perhaps you could blame him for not letting you drown in the first place. For bringing you here with the fantasy that you could exist with one foot in each world.

You’re not mad at him, though. Unlike Taehyung, you don’t need to wonder why Yoongi wanted you to spend two weeks in the real world. The real world is yours. It’s where you belong. To want some sort of normalcy for you or hope that you’d be able to pick up your life there anew was perhaps shortsighted, but rooted in the desire to do good for you.

So you’re not angry with Yoongi, though you’re not sure you’re pleased either.

The walk to your room is silent. Yoongi has let go of your hand but he walks close enough that your arms brush, sending shivers down your spine. You don’t know what to say, so you say nothing, and he seems content to let you keep your thoughts to yourself.

This isn’t how you wanted to see him for the first time since your two weeks spent in your realm.

The inside of your room is warm, but there’s no fire. You almost ask if he’s doused every flame in the house, and protest that you’re not afraid, but you don’t. He follows you into your room and shuts the door behind him. You walk toward the chaise and sit on it, looking up at where he hovers by the door.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, eyes finding yours. The emotions there are deep, but unreadable. “It was foolish of me to think they’d accept you as you were. Foolish to think that maybe the relationship with your parents might mend.”

“You couldn’t have known.”

“I am thousands of years old. Humankind has not changed so much in their ability to fear the unknown and react violently. I do know better, but I…” You wait for him to explain further, but he doesn’t. Yoongi lets the sentence drift off into the night. Instead of finishing it, he ventures, “Are you sure you’re unharmed?”

“Yeah, Guardian was screeching at the window.”

“Guardian?”

“Yeah, the owl. I assumed you sent it to watch over me.”

Yoongi frowns. “No, that’s what Taehyung was for. I did not…”

“What?” You see the look on his face change, shifting from confused to steel calm. “What is it?”

“Hoseok,” Yoongi mutters, turning to exit your room. “Try to get some sleep. I have a meddling owl to deal with.”

As he moves to close the door, you lean forward. “Yoongi?” He looks up, eyes wide, expression soft. He looks like a dark star, just then. The light from the window makes him glow from within, his eyes endless pools, his power ebbing in the room, a constant energy. “Thank you.”

His mouth turns downward. “For what?”

“Saving me. Again.”

His eyes darken. “Your safety will always be paramount to me. I’ll do better.”

“I think you’re doing the best you are able.”

“Thank you for saying so.”

Silence hangs between the two of you. It’s heavy, filled with friction that wasn’t there before. You squirm where you sit, suddenly unable to meet the set of eyes pinned to you. You’d forgotten what his gaze could do to you in person, and now the full force of it is dizzying.

“Goodnight, little lamb.”

A gentle scratch sounds on the other side of the window. You look up from your writing desk to the windows facing the mountains. Beyond the first sprawling peaks, you see the tallest of them all, the dark mountain wreathed in shadow and lightning.

The thunder rolls, vibrating your bones. You stare at the mountain, feeling the hair at the back of your neck stand on end. You grip the quill tight.

Beneath the hum of thunder, you hear a scratching on the glass again. You squint, but you see nothing there. Just open air and those ominous mountains in the back, watching you as you scrawl your letters.

Carefully, you set the quill down and get up. The floor is cold as you walk toward the window, which is strange. The floor is always warm in your room, as are the walls and most of the House of Dreams, fueled by whatever magic lives through Yoongi.

Near the glass, you almost feel how cold the window is. You frown and lift a hand, pressing a single finger against a pane. It’s freezing to the touch and you yank your hand back, perplexed as you stare at the single fingerprint left by your warm skin.

The fingerprint fades but the scratching sound does not. A gentle scritch scritch scritch, like a nail on the window.

“My betrothed,” someone whispers. Your blood runs cold and you whirl around, expecting to find someone standing in your bathroom. “Won’t you open the window for me? It’s so cold outside.”

Fear turns your stomach into acid. Your hands begin to shake as you stare into the emptiness of your room, suddenly feeling like it’s darker. Did the ceilings get taller? Is your room blurry at the edges? The scratching on the window intensifies, and with trembling lips, you turn to look over your shoulder.

There’s nothing outside, but there’s a shadowy reflection on the glass. A little taller than you. A little wider.

“Betrothed,” Nathaniel whispers again. “Won’t you let me in to reunite?”

For a moment, there is silence. The shadow doesn’t move. You don’t dare breathe. The shadow leaps at you and a scream tears through you -

Hands press you into something soft. You kick and scream, lashing out. Sheets tangle your legs and stick to your sweaty skin. Suddenly it feels like you can’t breathe and you thrash wildly, screaming at the top of your lungs as you claw at whatever’s holding you down.

Panic like never before seizes you. Your head smacks into something hard and it knocks you backward, suddenly dizzy as a hand comes up to your head automatically. It hurts where your fingers press into the skin, and you’re momentarily subdued by the way the room spins; the pain morphs your panic into confusion.

Breathing heavily, you blink your eyes rapidly, tears streaming down your face and vision a little blurry as you try and put the pieces together. Finally, you realize Taehyung is sitting on the floor next to your bed with his hand pressed against his forehead, in a similar fashion to your current state. Yoongi stands next to him, hands held up tentatively, as though he is about to grab you or has just let you go.

Silence hangs in the air, your breathing ragged. Your head - which you can surmise you’ve smacked against Taehyung’s - throbs wildly. As though sensing your discomfort and sticky thoughts, Yoongi’s eyes flicker away from your gaze to your head.

“May I fix that?” he asks slowly, voice gentle. “You smacked heads quite hard. I’m concerned you may be concussed.”

“Concussed,” you repeat back slowly. The word feels heavy on your tongue. “Right.”

Yoongi’s face colors with concern and he gestures toward you, asking permission again. It takes you another minute to put it together, but you nod dumbly, watching as he steps forward very slowly, dark eyes looking for any sign of protest or panic from you.

When you don’t bolt or swing at him, he takes another step toward you, hands reaching up toward your skull. You flinch when he reaches near and he stops, hands hovering. You can feel the heat of his skin a hair's breadth away, feel the magic skimming along him where he hesitates.

You look up at Yoongi. His eyes are wide and full of concern, his brows pulled up. His tongue darts out to lick his lips nervously as his eyes shift from your head to your eyes, trying to assess what to do. You smell cinnamon and clove and it calms you a little.

This is Yoongi. Not Nathaniel. Yoongi, who saved you from the grips of that hateful man and who brought you here. Somewhere that made you happy.

“It’s okay,” you whisper. You feel tired suddenly, like your adrenaline is waning and the aftereffects are bleeding you out. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” he whispers, pressing his hands gently to your head. You wince, the lump there giving a painful throb as he does.

“Maybe apologize,” Taehyung mutters from his spot on the floor. “Are you going to give me magic hand, too?”

“Silence, Taehyung.” Yoongi’s voice is cutting. It’s a voice you’ve never heard him use with Taehyung, your eyes shooting up to his in shock. He pays you no mind, focused on his hands.

Warmth emanates from his palms. Immediately you feel the tingle of magic. It’s soothing, making your eyes flutter as you become dizzy again. You let the warmth wash over you, accompanied by a peculiar array of senses: dark spicy smells; the feeling of velvet against your skin; the taste of cherry wine; a warm breath against your lips.

You shiver, head rolling back a little as it grows heavy and you grow drowsy suddenly, limbs weighted, mind fading.

“I didn’t… I didn’t know that was a dream.” Yoongi grimaces and says nothing. “Why didn’t that feel like a dream, Yoongi?”

“Sleep,” Yoongi murmurs, and his voice feels very far away. “You’ll be fine, now. You don’t have to worry about anything.”

“Thank you.”

“An easy fix.”

Yoongi removes his hand and you catch his wrist gently, eyes opening for a moment. “No,” you slur, speech heavy as the exhaustion pulls at you. “Thank you for saving me.”

You don’t know if you mean before, or when your neighbors came for you, or now. Maybe you mean all of it. Maybe you mean saving you from a life that you hated and bringing you here. You mean it nonetheless, though you’re unsure from where the bravery came to say it.

Dropping Yoongi’s wrist, you fall backward unceremoniously onto your bed. There is no fear of Nathaniel scratching at the glass anymore, your mind mostly empty, save for the smell of cinnamon and clove.

Yoongi and Taehyung gather to leave your room, and as you fade, you catch the tiniest bit of conversation from Taehyung. “... need to teach her. It’s only going to get worse… spinner.”

Sleep takes you.

Being back in the House of Dreams feels like home. Though the lingering feeling of hot flame and the look on your parents’ faces as they watch their home burn still haunts you, you feel safer than you have in the last week.

In the House of Dreams, there's no one to mutter prayers and sign wards against evil as you pass by. There’s no one glaring at you - except Taehyung, who pouts when you steal the last of the honey for your toast at breakfast. It’s just Yoongi and Taehyung, who talk more chipper than usual at breakfast.

You eye Yoongi carefully. He sits at the head of the table, dressed in a beautiful, jade-colored silk shirt. His hair is pulled back in a bun, earrings dangling as he leads forward and plucks melon from the bowl in front of him.

Yoongi lifts the fruit to his mouth. You pause chewing your toast, eyes focused on the way he bites into the fruit, lips plush around it, a bead of juice running down his chin. Suddenly you’re thinking about the night at The Desert Rose, a head between legs, a back that’s arched, skin sweaty-

Taehyung clears his throat from across the table and draws your attention. He’s staring at you with thinly veiled amusement, wiggling his eyebrows up and down. You scowl and take a large bite of your toast before swallowing what's in your mouth, feeling heat bloom in your cheeks and neck.

Yoongi is none the wiser, chewing happily on his fruit as he scratches Tiara under her chin. She chirps like a bird and purrs like a cat, letting out small curls of smoke everytime she puffs happily.

Your mouth twitches in a smile as you look at your plate, happy to be back with them.

“I want you to come to the Dream Tower with me today,” Yoongi ventures lightly. You snap your gaze up in surprise. He looks casual, as though he’s not offering you to come to the place he works, filled with magic and dreams. “I think you could help me.”

“Me?”

His mouth quirks. “Is there another human prone to trouble around here that I’m not aware of?”

“I thought you blamed yourself?”

“So I do. But yes - you.”

“How do you want me to help?”

Yoongi grins as he pops another piece of fruit into his sinful mouth. “You’ll see.”

Despite your excitement and the promise of a look inside Yoongi’s lair, even him asking for your help doesn’t earn you a break from daily reading and writing lessons. When Yoongi gestures to the assigned work on your desk, you throw him a severe look followed by a pout. As endeared as he seems, he is unwavering, patting your desk chair as he walks by.

You’re not really mad. You fall into an easy calm as you sit down and scoot up toward the desk. The fire is low and crackling in the fireplace today and the library smells faintly of cardamom as you work. Tiara flights around the second story of the room, chittering and following Yoongi - who seems to be organizing the shelves.

Taehyung vanishes to do whatever it is he does during the day. You’re not even sure if it’s day in your world. You hope he will take you to The Desert Rose again to see Jimin and to drink cider. You love the warmth of the crowd and the loud bustle.

The House of Dreams is quiet.

Time slips as you work. You lose yourself in swirling letters and short reading passages, so much so that when there is a tingling presence near your shoulder, you flinch, ripping your quill across the page and splattering ink.

Yoongi tsks and apologizes, grabbing an ink stained cloth to wipe the spilled liquid from the desk. His proximity makes your head spin, the edge of his hips grazing your shoulder as he leans over you to clean the mess you’ve made.

Mouth drying, you drop the quill and flex your hand, coughing out an apology as you try to organize your thoughts that spill like the ink on the desk at his nearness.

Being away from him almost made you forget how dizzying his presence could be. Yoongi regards your work in silence, but all you can focus on is the measured sound of his breathing, the warmth radiating from him, the curve of his mouth, the juice running down his-

“Ready?”

“What?” you ask, blinking and looking up at him owlishly. He gazes down at you, cocking a brow. It’s obvious he had asked you a question. “Sorry, I wasn’t listening?”

“What were you doing?”

“... Staring.”

“At?”

“The wall?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?” he questions, his voice laced with teasing.

You scowl and shove your chair backward into his stomach, knocking him back. He lets out a loud oof and a bit of laughter as you stand and stretch, hyperaware that he’s been in a rather cheeky mood since breakfast.

Together, you begin your walk to the tower. Tiara comes along, jumping up on Yoongi’s shoulder and curling herself around him like a scarf, her tail wrapped gently around his neck. She regards you with distaste and her tongue flickers out to taste the air, a curl of smoke escaping her nose as she huffs.

Fighting the urge to stick your tongue out at a dragon, you opt to walk in comfortable silence.

As you do, your thoughts inevitably drift to the night before and the dream that didn’t feel like a dream. For the most part, you feel like you can tell when you’re dreaming. There’s always an opaque feeling to your dreams, something a little off.

Now, you’re worried that perhaps you can’t tell the difference. You think that maybe you should ask Yoongi if he can help you tell the difference between being awake and dreaming, but your desire to ask is stopped as you reach the foot of stairs you’ve never climbed before.

Yoongi looks down at you as he begins ascending, giving you a gummy smile that sends your pulse galloping after him. You curse your traitor heart, trying to remember what Taehyung said to you about the relationship between dreams and humans. It could never work. But… you’re here. In Yoongi’s home, and you don’t know how long you’re allowed to stay - if you’re ever supposed to go back again.

Both of you seem to completely ignore that you were brought back to the dream realm ahead of schedule, that maybe going back is no longer an option.

There are doors leading to rooms as you ascend the stairs. Yoongi ignores all of them in favor of climbing up, up, and up. Your calves burn by the time you make it to the top, pausing to catch your breath and sweep your eyes across the large, circular room.

It’s stunning. Glancing up, your mouth falls open in surprise when you see that there is no ceiling, but a mass of writhing cosmos and something like a night sky. The nebulous display casts a lavender and blue glow on the room below, the two-tone light shifting and moving.

There are all manner of things in the room. Tables covered in papers, rich rugs with different designs, chairs and bookshelves and curiosity cabinets and glass cases full of glowing things that you cannot identify. Tiara hops off of Yoongi’s shoulder and floats on small wings toward a pile of blankets, twigs, and leaves that looks like a nest.

What demands your attention most, though, is the massive stone dais in the room, with a stone column about waist high with something that looks like a bowl carved into the top. From where you stand, you can see there’s liquid in the bowl that moves and shimmers with its own glow. Occasionally, a sparkle or wisp of color drifts from the cool surface.

Energy vibrates in the air. You can feel it like a static on your skin and taste it like a buzz on your tongue. You’re drawn to the dais, taking a step forward and halting. It feels like a hum shivers through you. You look at Yoongi, questioning.

“The dream pool,” he answers, as though you have any idea what that is.

He walks toward it and looks back at you, hesitating before he offers a hand. Excitement shoots through you as you take his hand and he pulls you toward it. Your hand tingles where you hold his. Even when you reach the dais and he lets go, there’s pins and needles left behind.

“This is where I help create dreams for those who can’t do it on their own.”

The liquid in the basin brightens as Yoongi steps up close. You watch as a watercolor of lights splashes across his face. He looks down into the bowl lovingly, a soft smile on his face, and so much adoration in his eyes that you find yourself watching him instead of the magical water in the bowl.

“This room is full of things that help inspire dreams. I make everything myself but Taehyung likes to help - he likes to decorate and fill the room with items that inspire creativity.”

“Somehow I think dream personified doesn’t need it.”

He shoots you a grin. “You’d be surprised. Come look.”

Tentatively, you step up next to him. You’re aware of how close you stand, his sleeves brushing yours as he places a hand on the basin. It comes up to your stomach and is two feet in diameter. The water looks so much deeper than you thought. You’re unable to see the bottom, an illusion that makes you dizzy.

Like the sky above, the water shimmers and moves with its own set of stars and colors. It feels alive, like whatever power is in the dream pool recognizes you and wakes up, spinning as you look into the glittering surface.

“I can feel and hear people dream,” Yoongi explains. “It’s like a frequency that I can tap into. I can turn it on and off at a whim. Those who don’t struggle to dream are so much quieter than those who cannot dream. I listen for those who cannot, and I come here and focus on them in my mind’s eye before creating them a dream. I pour in thoughts, feelings, scents, sounds, memories and the like into this bowl. I think it, and so it appears.”

“How?”

“What you’d call magic. Really it’s just divine power. This is a part of me,” he says, tapping the rim of the basin. “Just like dreams are.”

“How can I help you do… this?” you ask, gesturing wildly to the water.

Yoongi’s smile is angelic. “You have the raw capability of a dreamer. Someone who dreams so powerfully and loudly that it can’t help but catch my attention.”

“What does that mean?”

“Your imagination and your ability to come up with things is more innate than most people. You’re an innovator, a great conjurer of stories and fantasies. It’s a rare gift in humans. Some call you Spinners - you can spin dreams up just as easily as I can, with practice, but you cannot do so without a tool like this basin.”

“A spinner.” You remember the night before, hearing the word on Taehyung’s lips. “Are there others?”

He nods. “Under fifty in the entire world. I believe you’ve met another one. He’s the one Taehyung visits.”

“Jimin?”

“Mhmm. He’s like you. You have no power though, not in your world. Just raw ability.”

“So if I were to use this… pool of dreams, I could give people dreams.”

He nods, smiling. You smile back at him, his happiness infectious. You like the way his eyes crinkle when he grins broadly at you, the way his cheeks tint pink. It is strange to think that this soft man in front of you is also the same dark, powerful god who has swept in to save you, whose voice haunts your dreams and whose phantom touch lingers in all of the places that it shouldn’t.

Licking his lips and rolling his shoulders, Yoongi takes his stance at the basin. You watch, fascinated as he sweeps a hand over the surface, not touching the water. It ripples an entire rainbow of colors, casting shadows on his face when he peers down into the water as the surface smoothes out like a mirror.

An opaque image materializes on the surface. You watch as Yoongi concentrates. Slowly, things begin appearing. A cerulean ocean, waves rolling gently against a sandy beach. Foam clings to the sand. Starfish of every color - blue, green, red - begin to dot the beach. A gull cries above, so clear it feels like you’re there. Then you smell it - the salt, the brine. The subtle scent of driftwood. A breeze blows against your face, carrying the cool ocean mist.

You let out a laugh as Yoongi smiles, his eyes never leaving the images unfolding in the basin. You watch as a dolphin crests a wave, earning a gasp from you. You’ve never seen a dolphin, only heard about them in passing from fishermen from the coast. They spray water high into the air as they break the waves, moving smoothly through glittering waters.

It feels so real and warm, the dream bright and full of hope. Happiness. Excitement. You feel what Yoongi pours into the basin, your toes curling as though you can feel hot sand beneath your feet.

“The trick,” Yoongi explains carefully, “Is imagining everything that would make it feel real. It can’t be just what you see. It has to be what you hear, what you feel, what you smell, what emotions you evoke. You have to do all of these things at once - you have to believe in them all at once. Dreams about real things are the easiest. More complex dreams can include anything you can imagine that humans believe to be fake: dragons, brownies, griffons.”

“How do you know what to give?”

“You feel it. Place your hand on the side.”

Carefully, you lift your hand to the side of the dream pool. You hesitate and look up at Yoongi, eyes wide. He gives you an encouraging nod. You place your hand on the bowl, feeling the warm stone.

A pulse of energy flows through you. You gasp, flinching a little as you feel the basin come alive under your touch. You close your eyes as sensations flood you: hopelessness, stress, exhaustion. Suddenly, Yoongi’s dream makes sense. He instills a sense of peace and serenity at the beach, of hope and wonder with the dolphins, of rest with the cool wind and warm sand.

“Amazing,” you breathe, eyes still closed. “This is wonderful.”

“I’ll do some more. Keep your hand where it is. You’ll feel what it is they feel. Try not to think too hard about anything while you’re connected - let me do the work.”

Watching Yoongi work can happen with your eyes closed, you realize. You lose yourself in time and space. No longer are you in the Dream Tower. Now, Yoongi walks you through the world.

You enter through dreams, feeling sudden sadness or loss, even heartache. Every dream you encounter, there is profound suffering at the beginning. Yoongi gently sends the pain on its way, observes what each dreamer needs, and begins spinning up images. Sounds. Feelings.

Rain falls on your face as you stand over the tops of a misty forest. It’s gentle and cool to the touch, soothing. You smell pine and damp earth, giving you energy. Your toes feel the wet grass beneath you, grounding you and making you feel more centered than you ever have.

Wheat brushes the tips of your fingers. You look out into a sea of gold, healthy crops bending with the wind. An azure sky stretches mile after mile, not a cloud in sight as the sun heats your skin. You smell fresh air and hear the grasshoppers buzz among the fresh stalks of wheat, feeling the reward of growing healthy grain.

A dog runs after a ball. The hills are the brightest shade of green you’ve ever seen, the dog dashing up the hill and barking loudly. You feel laughter bubble up your throat and unfettered joy as thick clouds float by. The dog grabs the ball and runs back, its tail wagging and coat shiny. You feel nostalgic and happy to be reunited with a friend.

Fireflies flicker to life in a forest at night. They alight on the tree branches and your arms, casting gold luminescence on your skin. You marvel at them, spinning in a circle as you look at the dark trees. You smell the maple sap and the bark, you hear the crickets.

It’s just like the woods near your house -

Your house.

A slice of fear goes through you. You remember the darkness of the woods as Nathaniel tried to drown you, the press of his fingers into your skull. The roaring of the flooding water and the burning of your lungs. The fireflies flicker out one by one and the darkness begins to grow. You’re suddenly terrified. Curiosity vanishes and is replaced with deep fear.

You taste stale water in your mouth. You smell the smoke of your burning house. You feel water rushing up to your ankles and inching higher, you hear the screams of Nathaniel’s vitriol, you feel your lungs start to fill, the air stars to leave, the roots of the trees grab at your feet-

A sharp yank pulls you out of the forest. You gasp for air, falling backward off of the dais and onto the floor. Gentle hands cradle your face and you hear a deep voice calling out to you, speaking your name through the dull roar in your ears.

Blinking, you look upward to see Yoongi inches away from your face. His eyes are round and gentle, his hands steady. Warm. He’s so close you can feel his breath on your lips as he leans over you. A strand of dark hair escapes his bun, falling across his forehead and eye. You don’t know why, but you think it looks dashing.

“Hey,” he murmurs, searching your face. “Are you with me?”

“Yeah,” you rasp, lungs heaving. “What happened?”

His thumb brushes back and forth across your cheek as he sighs, but he doesn’t let go of your face. “You thought of the night that I saved you. Your fear was powerful. Raw. As you started to remember things you grew more afraid and you took over the dream.”

You blink once. Twice. Remember the way that the fireflies suddenly flickered out and how the water started to rush in from nowhere. “I did that?”

“I didn’t expect you to be such a natural. I had a feeling but… you caught me by surprise and shoved me out.”

“I can do that?”

“When I’m caught off guard, yes. You took control of creating the dream and turned it into…”

“A nightmare.”

He nods. “It’s my fault. I didn’t think you would think that forest looked the same, but I was wrong. I keep… having oversights. I’m sorry. I’m not good at this.”

“Good at what?”

“Being human.”

Silence suspends between you. You’re sprawled on the floor of the Dream Tower with Yoongi hovering over you. His knees are pressed against your hips and his shirt collar is hanging low as he leans, revealing more skin than you’ve ever seen from him. You don’t dare drop your eyes from his, staring at their dark depths.

The space between you is minimal and neither of you move. You hope he cannot hear the way your heart hammers in your chest or sense the way your body crackles like lightning, sparking at his proximity. The nightmare you made is long forgotten, replaced with his touch, his smell, his closeness.

Yoongi holds your face delicately, like a treasured item. You cannot imagine that he means to hold you so, but the sudden want that licks through you is powerful, your desire for him to hold you like you’re something precious surprising you in its strength.

“You make me want to get better at it.” His voice is soft, barely even a whisper.

“At what?”

A gentle laugh. “Being human. It is unfamiliar, but I wish to know more of what it's like. To have more of the instinct.”

“Why?”

He pauses. “Because I’ve lived for thousands of years, and never really had the chance to try.”

It is a similar sentiment that Taehyung had shared. The thought of Taehyung makes you smile, sitting up suddenly. Yoongi leans back on his haunches quickly, careful not to knock heads. “What?” he asks, noting your sudden excitement.

“Has Taehyung ever taken you to the Desert Rose?”

“No, I can’t say I’ve been interested. Why?”

You grab his hand. You notice the way he seems surprised, but he doesn’t pull away as you scramble to your feet. “You want to see what it’s like to be human. I know a place.”

Yoongi makes a face as he sips the beer Taehyung has thrust into his hands. You and Taehyung laugh, tossing your heads back with it. Yoongi looks unimpressed but continues to drink nonetheless, his dark eyes scanning the crowded bar.

He sticks out like a sore thumb. Eyes are immediately drawn to Yoongi wherever he goes. You think everyone must feel the divinity as he walks by them, his power a magnet for attention. Even sitting at the table with you and Taehyung, tucked near the door, people turn in their seats to get a good look at him or pause when they enter the Desert Rose.

It doesn’t help that he looks beautiful. Air had gotten stuck in your throat when he arrived at the library at the appointed time to meet you and Taehyung to come here. His hair hangs in soft waves around his face, earrings peaking between inky strands when he moves his head. His dark shirt is long-sleeved but unbuttoned at the throat, revealing a strip of pale, smooth skin and his layered necklaces. His eyes are glittering tonight, almost like constellations are held within.

Yoongi is the night. The black pants and black boots paired with the shirt make him look like a dark prince. Perhaps the son of the moon, even. You notice the way the stares turn from curious to hungry, Yoongi lighting a fire among those around him.

Jealousy sours your stomach. You hate that it does, but it’s like a second instinct, some sort of possessive monster rearing its head as you avert your gaze when a beautiful man asks Yoongi if he wants to dance. Yoongi shakes his head, giving a polite smile in return before turning away and chugging more of his drink.

If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was nervous.

“Thousands of years old and a room full of people scares you,” Taehyung teases, confirming your suspicions. Yoongi’s gaze is thin as a razor. “You should get out more. I’ve been telling you that.”

“Eternals don’t make a habit of walking around the human realm. Our presence disturbs the natural chemistry of the world.”

“Then why did you spend so many days in the wood-”

Yoongi kicks Taehyung under the table. He hollers in pain as Yoongi glowers, making you giggle. Though he’s no natural among the crowd, you can see that he’s trying to fit in. He watches the way people slouch in their chair and he imitates it. Drinks more of his beer, not because of the taste but because it's what people do here.

Music thrums in the room. There is a crowd of people clapping their hands and dancing, stomping their feet along to the music. You nervously look at Yoongi throughout the night, trying to see if he’s enjoying himself, wondering what he thinks of the place.

A couple near your table knocks over a pitcher of mead as the man presses the woman into the table in an arduous kiss. You can’t help but watch for a moment, entranced by the way he kisses her as though he’ll die if he doesn’t, as if her lips are the last thing he wants to remember.

Sensing Yoongi’s gaze on you, you glance at him. He stares at you, drinking you in before his eyes drift to the couple you’d been studying. Embarrassment heats your face as you bring your cup to your lips, hiding behind the tankard as you take large gulps of cider.

The cider takes the edge off. It makes you feel warm and loose, though you’re still a little nervous with Yoongi’s quiet countenance sitting beside you.

“Jimin’s here!” you announce excitedly, clapping your hands together when he appears downstairs. Taehyung’s knee bumps into the bottom of the table as he jerks to turn around. “Jimin should meet Yoongi!”

“I would love to.”

Taehyung groans. “No, please.”

“Why not?” Yoongi demands. “Should I not meet the human that brings my friend here most evenings? Should I not meet the friend of my -” Yoongi looks at you and stumbles over his words. “- my friend?”

Friend. You’re not sure if the word fits, exactly. But you don’t know what else it is that Yoongi would call you. Friend implies something beyond acquaintances, which you are sure you are. But it fits like an ill-sized dress, hanging crooked on your frame.

“I don’t want you to scare him off!” Taehyung protests.

Yoongi looks dubious. “Why would I do that?”

“Shut up,” you hiss as Jimin notices you. You lift your hand in an eager wave, beckoning him over. “Yoongi, be nice.”

“I am nice. Do you think I’m not nice?”

Instead of answering him, you get up to greet Jimin warmly with a chaste kiss on the cheek and a brief hug. When you step back, you see Yoongi’s burning gaze, a tick in his jaw as he stares Jimin down, tonguing his cheek. You hiss at Yoongi and snap your finger to signal for him to drop the severe expression.

He looks at you and his features smooth out as he rises to his feet lithely, reaching an arm around you. Yoongi startles you when he places his hand on your mid-back as he leans forward to shake Jimin’s, introducing himself.

The contact is so brief that you wonder if he had done it at all as he sits down. For a moment, you’re the only one standing, staring at Yoongi in confusion as the three men sit. They all look at you expectantly and you plop down suddenly.

“Are you alright?” Jimin asks, mirth evident in his voice.

“Yes,” you answer quickly, still recovering. It felt like a deliberate touch. Firm, but gentle. Polite, but… something. “How are you?”

To your pleasure - and Taehyung’s evident relief - Yoongi and Jimin get along fine. If Jimin is put off by Yoongi’s peculiarity, he doesn’t show it. You wonder if he’s used to being around Taehyung, who has his own strange charm and inhuman energy vibrating around him.

Yoongi says little, but seems comfortable. You watch him as he watches Taehyung, who has stars in his eyes every time he looks at Jimin. He leans closer to Jimin as they mutter about something conspiratorially, giggling behind their hands. Jimin brushes a strand of hair out of Taehyung’s face and the love that blooms in Taehyung’s expression is so evident that you wonder if Jimin knows. He has to know. And he looks like he feels the same.

When Jimin drags Taehyung up to dance, you encourage them, shooing them off toward the growing crowd of people spinning around the room. Tables are shoved out of the way, chairs scraping to make room for the revelers. You move your chair some as your table is pushed, making the beers tilt dangerously.

Yoongi grabs the leg of your chair and pulls it roughly toward him. Before you can say something, someone stumbles where your chair just was, toppling into the table next to you. You look at Yoongi with shock and he winks before returning to lounging in his seat, watching the crowd.

Now that you’re sitting much closer to him, you can smell him. Still, you try to relax, watching as Jimin teaches Taehyung the steps to the dance the crowd is doing.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” Yoongi says over the loud voices. “This is nice. I see why Taehyung likes it.”

“You don’t hate it?” He makes a face and you laugh. “Yoongi, you hate it.”

“It’s a bit loud, but I don’t hate it. I like the quiet. I like… solitude. But not always. This is a good break.”

“So you never just… stroll among the people sometimes?”

“Never had a reason to.”

“But how can you make dreams if you don’t know people?”

“Dreams are inherent to me. They are an instinct. They aren’t born from people. They’re born from something rawer than that. People just happen to dream.”

You hum, not sure that you follow. Silence lulls between you as the song changes. “This place is so different from anywhere I’ve been,” you tell him. “My mother and father would have hated a place like this where people want so freely and people are so… provocative.”

“Life is provocative. So is nature, and magic. And dreams.”

“Is that why you’re a god of desire, too?” He nods once, his eyes on you. “Can you… sense what people innately desire? All the time?”

You don’t ask the real question, which is: Can you tell what I desire when I’m with you? Still, Yoongi shrugs a shoulder. “Snippets. LIke I said, I try not to pry. I don’t think that anyone here needs to be inspired by me to delve into what they want here, that’s for sure.” His eyes darken. “Though perhaps there is one.”

It is not your imagination when he says it. You know that he means you. This you are sure of. You stare at Yoongi, the rest of the room fading away. He stares right back at you, as though willing you to agree, or to deny his claim. Your heart speeds up and you feel the sweat on your neck, the slick on your palms.

“You said you’d help me indulge.” Your voice shakes when you say it. “How… do I do that?”

Yoongi’s mouth kicks up at the side. He leans forward and offers you a hand. When you just stare at it, he laughs. “Dance with me.”

“Dancing? That is indulging?”

“You might be surprised.”

Tension goes taught between you. You feel it sizzling in the air as you stare one another down. Yoongi’s hand remains outstretched, beckoning. Slowly, you put the cup of cider down and slide your hand into his. You’ve done this so many times, letting him lead you somewhere or help you up.

When Yoongi grips your hand and pulls you to your feet, it feels different than all the times before. The soft, gentle Eternal of dreams has melted away and left something sharper. Darker. Edgier. Your heart flutters butterfly-fast as he leads you to where there are people spinning in tight circles on the floor.

Yoongi yanks you toward him, pulling you into his chest. One hand loops over his shoulder, your palm cradling the back of his neck, while the other grips his. His hand goes snuggling around your waist, pulling you firmly to him as he ducks his head toward your ear, voice deep and soft as he whispers, “Follow me.”

You would follow him anywhere, you think. Anywhere at all.

Dancing is not something you ever recall doing. It wasn’t necessary where you grew up. Most of your festivals in town were a reserved affair and you’d never been to any parties or celebrations. Most weddings were stiff and formal, and not for merriment as much as respect.

Now, your world turns into a kaleidoscope of color and laughter. Yoongi spins you around the room, his feet smooth and fast. You stumble to keep up at first, but Yoongi is a confident lead, his steps instructing yours, his hands pulling and guiding you as you go.

Laughter rushes out of you. You cannot help the glee that glitters in your veins. Yoongi’s laughter is like spilled moonlight. You look up at him with a grin, seeing his gummy smile as he dips you suddenly, making you squeal. Your fingers tangle in his shirt. You know he won’t drop you but the exhilaration is in your veins as he lifts you back up, crushing you to him.

Your arms and legs burn with effort as you continue. The song changes and Yoongi lets go and spins you. You go crashing into Taehyung’s arms. He’s a far worse dancer than Yoongi, and the two of you are a mess of tripped feet, trilling laughter and elbows into ribs. He pushes you back to Yoongi’s waiting arms.

It terrifies you how much it feels like home, like a key sliding into a lock. Your arms go around him as his hands squeeze your waist. You come alive where you touch, looking up at him. He watches you, the shadow of his lashes framing delicate eyes. His mouth is red and soft.

Yoongi’s eyes dart down to your mouth. Your breath catches and he moves a little closer, pressing his head to yours, noses brushing. The entire world vanishes and it’s just Yoongi, his lips so close you can almost taste them, his fingers digging into your hips.

Your eyes flutter shut just as someone crashes into you. You scream as you’re knocked hard into Yoongi, the two of you stumbling as he catches you from falling over completely. The crowd goes wild with laughter as a man is sprawled on the ground, laughing and drunk, having lost his balance.

A breathless laugh escapes you as you and Yoongi straighten, separating a little. The moment between you is shattered, clattering away like pieces of broken glass as you catch your breath and gather your wits. You look around, searching for Taehyung only to see him alone at your table, eyes heavy and gaze lingering across the room. You turn to see Jimin leaning on the bar, smiling at something a woman is whispering in his ear.

Glancing back at Taehyung, you see him shove away from the table and storm out the door. Yoongi notices this too, but he’s slow on the uptake, his hand still on your hip. You shake off his hold on you and go after Taehyung, shouting his name.

Taehyung is just outside the Desert Rose, head tilted down and shoulders pulled up tight around his ears. When you touch the small of his back, he flinches, gazing at you with tear-stained eyes and a look so crestfallen you feel your heart crack.

He sniffs. “This is why,” he whispers. “This is why I told you we can never be. Humans and dreams - we aren’t. We don’t match.”

“Taehyung,” you whisper. You don’t know what else to say. You open your arms and he leans into you, folding in half as he sobs, breaking down into your shoulder. You hush him gently, holding him tight and squeezing him, trying to pour your love into him.

Over Taehyung’s shoulder, your gaze settles on Yoongi. He watches the two of you in silence, face impassive. And your heart breaks a little more, realizing the truth of Taehyung’s words.

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gojo-mochi · 1 year

Text

KarateInstructor!Toji x Innocent!Reader

Content Warning: FemVirgin!Reader, Slight DubCon, Size Kink, Age Gap but reader is over 18, Usage of Pet Names and Master, slight bondage, and Toji being Toji

A/N: I know this a OP Blog alright!! I just have major Toji brain rot rn and need to get it out,,, I’m sorry! ໒꒰ྀི ៸៸៸៸ ก꒱ྀི১ Second attempt at smut! Going deeper this time. (Pun-intended) Not Proof-read/Not Beta’d

A/N: Dividers by @benkeibear (Please let me know if you like to be untag at any time!) Thank you so much for letting me use them. Please go check them out if you have the chance! They have amazing fics to read and the cutest dividers! ૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა

KarateInstructor!Toji: Who got fired from working with kids due to him making every single one of them cry. The scar and his resting bitch face apparently don't help when he’s trying to calm them down by yelling at them. So, now he only works with young adults and middle-aged people with too much free time on their hands. (Not like he’s one of those middle-aged people, mind you!)

KarateInstructor!Toji: Who almost got fired again for stating that his class “Isn’t for pussies, and he’s teaching you fuckers how to actually fight, and this isn’t some therapy karate or whatever.” He might have threatened the owner of the building so he could stay, but there were no witnesses and no charges brought against him this time. So he was free to teach the class how he liked.

KarateInstructor!Toji: Who snorts quite loudly when you trip over your pants on your first day in the Dojo. He still goes to help you up; he finds the way you stammer out a small “So-Sorry!” and how his hand engulfed your tiny wrist to be rather enticing. You stand up to your full height; which is barely anything standing next to Toji; and with a practiced bow, you exclaim, “My name is Y/N and I’m excited to be working under you, Master Toji!”. Alright, now his pants tighten up a lot more when the word “Master” passes your sweet lips. He barely greets the other students when they come shuffling in and only eyes you when you settle into your spot.

KarateInstructor!Toji: Who thought being called ‘Master’ was stupid at first, but then you kept calling him that every single time you needed help: “Master, am I doing this right?” or “Thank you for the lesson, Master!”. Now he can’t stop thinking about it, how pretty it would sound when you’re under him, begging for him to touch you. He had to bring in spare boxer-briefs to the dojo after you joined his class due to all the times he would leave wet spots on the front of them.

KarateInstructor!Toji: Who bends you over in countless sex positions without you even noticing. You think it’s just some new move he’s teaching you, and you’re grateful for the extra help, as you can be quite clumsy at times. “Yeah, just like that, lift your back up higher though.” He has you on all fours, and with him grabbing your hips behind, he wonders how dumb you must be not to notice what’s going on. He grunts when you push back a bit, trying to lift up your back just like he instructed you to; “Like this, Master?” You peek behind you to see Toji wipe away some sweat. “Mmhm, good job.” When you smile at his praise, he thinks about all the other positions he wants you in.

KarateInstructor!Toji: Who adores the way you whine and pout when you can’t defeat him. You finally thought you got him in a hold, but Toji quickly flips it around, and your back is now against the floor. You let out a huff when Toji chuckled above you. “I swear I had you that time!” you whined some more, “Sure, Doll, you had me that time.” Toji gave you a lopsided grin when you looked away with a blush. He always calls you these nicknames and no one else, but it can’t mean anything, right?

It was another night of one-on-one practice with Master again. He said that you needed ‘Extra training’ and honestly? You were grateful that Master would take time to help you! Even though he liked to tease you when you failed a move against him or call you those nicknames, ‘Sweetheart, Doll, and sometimes even Pet’, it makes your stomach curls in a way you haven’t felt before. You try not to think about it when Master comes back into the room.

“Are you ready, Doll?” There it is again, those nicknames… “Yes Master!” You shrugged it off and tried to focus on the lesson ahead. He strides until he is standing in front of you. You suck in a breath as you gaze up into his emerald eyes. With one hand on his hip and the other pointing at you he taunts you by saying, “Alright then, have another go at me and let’s see if you can last more than five minutes this time.” The way he said it makes the knots in your stomach curl deeper, but you wanted to show him that you had gotten better at this, so you quickly position yourself into a fighting stance and charge at him. He lazily gets into some sort of stance as he defends himself against your kicks.

With a few more kicks and some punches that easily get deflected, you start to feel a bit annoyed at how Master is not taking you seriously. So you went in for the tackle, arms barely wrapping around Master’s waist. You pushed with all your might, and…. Nothing. You feel a rumbling from Master’s chest as he tries not to show that he’s outright laughing at your feeble attempt. You blush deeply, feeling embarrassed, you let go and turn around to exit the dojo. Master stops you though; now with his arms easily trapping you, you let out a small ‘oof’ when your back hits against his chisel chest.

“Now, now… don’t be mad, Doll.” He leans down so his lips graze lightly against the shell of your ear, causing shivers and heat to pool near your core. Before you could muster up a response, he lifted you up, turned you around, and placed you on the ground with him on top, all in one swift motion. All you could do was let out a small squeak, which had Master chuckling again. Elbows by the sides of your head and his thighs in between yours, slowly spreading out your legs. Your heart was racing, “Mas-master wh-?” you whimpered those words out while trying to get freed from this new position.

“Quit ya squirming already.” Master scolded, his voice coming out gruff, and you immediately stopped. “Good girl, now raise your hands above your head for me, alright?” Without even thinking, you do as he asks. “That’s it baby, always so obedient.” Master looks at you so intensely as he reaches down to grab something. You can feel yourself getting wetter by the minute, and the heat is pooling up everywhere now.

You only just see Master grabbing something off his pants, when he brings it up, you can now see that he undid his black belt and was now holding it. With a smirk, he goes to tie your hands together. His hands descend to caress your cheek, and his lips attack the other side. It makes you squirm a lot more than before, with a breathless moan coming out of your lips. “Please! Wa-wait! I-um-I Ah Master! I ca-Mmph!” You get cut off by Master’s tongue invading your mouth, it as big as he is, effortlessly enveloping your whole mouth with just a few licks. He holds your chin in place, his thumb pressing in on the side of your jaw when you try to turn away.

He pulls away only after your lips are thoroughly bruised and wet with salvia. Your thighs are shaking, and your chest heaves up and down heavily. Through half-lidded eyes, you peer up at him. “Toji…” He quirks an eyebrow at this. “Toji? Did I lose the right to be your Master already?” He snorts out, and still he maneuvers his hand under your shirt, grabbing your soft mounds and rolling your nipple between his long fingers. You mewled and thrashed your body around to try to get away, or to get closer? You weren’t sure what you wanted anymore. The slick between your legs was starting to drip down your thigh. As he began to mark up your neck, nipping at the soft flesh, making you clench your thighs in protest.

Toji, or is it still Master?, lift up your shirt over your head and fumble around with your bra until it unclasps and your pretty perky nipples are free to feel the cold air and Toji’s hot mouth over it. “Mmp-Ah! To-Ahhh.. Mas-Master, master, mas-master!” It felt so good.. It was a new sensation, Master’s tongue running hot over your nipple while the other is being pinched and rolled around. “Haahh.. Feels good.. so good, Master, Please,” At this point, you weren’t sure if you were begging him to stop or continue. Master bit down on your chest in multiple places, leaving each spot with a visible bruise that will last for a few days. He lifted his head up to view his artwork, “Pretty girl, so pretty, just for me, right?”

You don’t think you have enough brain left to answer, nor do you think Master was waiting for an answer anyway. When he leans down again, this time you tilt your head up to try to meet him halfway. He smirks wildly at this, stopping just before your lips. “What is it, Doll? Hmm? What do you need?” He mocks your expression by pouting out his lips too. He doesn’t leave time for a respond again when his fingers dips into your pants, and straight across your wet folds. “Mmhmm, my girl all wet for me, isn’t she?” His fingers are so long and thick, it breaks your mind a bit. It easily slides up and down your core with one finger inserted inside. “A-Ah!” You bite your cheek, struggling not to let all these new sounds escape your body.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, aren’t cha? Can’t imagine how my cock is gonna stretch you out.” He inserts another finger, stretching out the inner walls. With your hands tied, you could only grip your nails into the palms of your hands for some sort of distraction. When his thumb starts to play with your clit, that’s when your mind completely blanks. The white hot pleasure was so new and so foreign to your body. Master grabs your face and sticks his free thumb inside your mouth, letting it press down on your tongue. “Don’t bite your cheek like that, darling, I want to hear all the cute little noises you make, alright?” You dumbly nod, drool trickling down your chin and onto his hand. He gives you a chaste kiss on the nose in return.

Somehow he managed to get three fingers in you without your noticing in the time that passed. Deeming that you were stretched out enough, though, Master pulled out his fingers and gave them a taste while his other hand ripped off your pants. He takes his sweet time to take off his own pants and boxers, letting his length hang over your pulsing clit. He let the tip get soaked in your juices between your folds first before rubbing the bulbous head across your stomach. “Master.. Please.. just fu-fuck.. I need you..” You were nearly out of breath as you said those words. Master barked out a laugh, “I think that was the first time I heard you curse.” He hums, grabbing his cock and leisurely letting it sink into your gummy walls.

He stops about a quarter in and starts to rub again at your swollen clit, flicking it with his thumb. You whined and mewled so loudly, you were sort of afraid that people outside could hear. “Use your words, Darling; tell Master here what you need.” “I-I need you, please! Ne-need you to fuck me, please please please-!” You couldn’t take it anymore, you needed him, now. Luckily for you, Toji finally decided to stop with the teasing, lifting your legs over his shoulder and bending down to fully pin you down. His cock sinks deeper and deeper into your tight cunt. It burns so much at first but when he starts to move against your walls, his thumb still abusing your clit, you instantly came. “Mm-AHhh… Ngahh.” Toji sucks in a breath as your wall tightens more around him. “Fuckkk…” But he’s not gonna cum this fast; his pride won’t let him, so he powers on slamming his cock in and out with ease now that you’ve gotten more comfortable.

The wet slopping noises echoed so loudly in the empty Dojo room. Sweat dripping down both your faces as Toji rams him cock into you at a fast pace. “My girl so tight, so fucking tight for me, hahhhh fuck, so good doll, so fucking good.” He praises you in between open mouth kisses. You just try to nod along as you feel your pussy start to clench again as another wave of pleasure builds up. You feel that Master was getting closer too, as he picked up his pace, lifting up your hips, angling his cock deeper than before. “Ahhh, Master Toji!” Master climax closely; after you do, you feel his hot seed pour all over your insides. “Fuck hngh…”

He lays his forehead against yours, quietly letting your leg rest on the ground. He looks at you through heavy eyelids and smirks. “That was good practice, but let’s make sure that you fully understood the lesson, yea?”

A/N:switching between toji and master cuz im insane and don’t know what to call him and IM SORRY ABOUT THE ENDING I NEVER WROTE ACTUAL SEX BEFORE SO I JUST BLREH IT ON THE PAGE ૮꒰ ˶> ༝ <˶꒱ა Also I prob made Toji a lot nicer than usually but that cuz I like nice(ish) toji alright

#₍ᐢ. ̫.ᐢ₎ softy writes #toji x reader #toji x you #toji smut #toji fic #jjk x y/n #jjk toji #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujustu kaisen x reader #jujustu kaisen toji

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embrosegraves · 5 months

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𝕎𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕀𝕥 𝔹𝕖 𝕆𝕜𝕒𝕪?

Arthur Leclerc x Reader In which after the reader has an unwanted interaction, Reader’s 6-year-old daughter has a serious talk with Arthur “Would it be okay if I called you dad?”

Warnings/Notes: Google Translated French and Italian. unnamed ex-boyfriend.

You had never imagined ever becoming a teen mum. You hadn’t given any thought to getting pregnant with your boyfriend. There was no need to think about stuff like that, the two of you were only 16. That’s why you were so shocked to find out a month before you turned 17, that you would be having your first child.

Of course, after you eventually got over the shock, you immediately told your boyfriend. H was less than pleased with the situation. He didn’t outright say that he didn’t want it, but the way he treated you afterwards made that pretty clear to you. He was not going to help you. You had sat him down the night before your birthday to talk about what you were going to do. That night, he said that didn’t want to be a parent. That he didn’t want to be your boyfriend any longer.

Most people would become hysterical. Most people would start crying and begging for their partner to stay with them. That they could make it work. But not you. Your response to his words had stunned him.

“If you don’t want to be with me, that’s fine. If you don’t want to be a father, that’s fine too. After today I don’t want you near me or my baby, so once they’re born I want you to sign your rights away.” You were stone-faced with anger when you spoke to him. “No matter what you say or do from here on out, I will have full custody of my child and you will have nothing to do with them. Am I clear?”

He looked almost angry at your words, but he gritted his teeth and agreed to your demands. That was the last night you ever saw him. Either his family had moved away, or he had suddenly stopped frequenting the places you used to go together but whatever the reason you were strangely satisfied that you never ran into him for the remainder of your surprise pregnancy.

Your parents were your biggest supporters throughout the whole ordeal. You could still remember the day your parents found out you were pregnant. It was the day you yourself had found out. Your father had found you in the bathroom, sitting on the toilet lid in shock with tears streaming down your face. He rushed to you, worried out of his mind. Your father’s arms had wrapped around you protectively and your crying got louder as you tried to explain the news to him.

Your mother had come up the stairs when she heard you sobbing hysterically, only to find you clutching to your father as if he had told you he was dying tomorrow. He never loosened his hold on you as he explained to your mother what the issue was. She was equal parts worried and elated. Your mother took no time to join you and your father in the embrace. It had taken you almost an hour to come to terms with what you were about to go through, but knowing that you had your parents’ support and assistance made it all that much easier to deal with.

7 and a half months later, you had given birth to a daughter. That was the first and last day that your ex-boyfriend saw your daughter. You had texted him to come to hospital as you had the paperwork he needed to sign so that he could give his rights away. Being in no state to follow him and make sure that he signed what was necessary, your father had followed and stood opposite to him so he could make sure he wasn’t going to rip up the paperwork.

At some point in your pregnancy, you had expressed to your parents that while he had agreed to sign them away, you were worried that he would try something when the day came. Your father said that he would need a witness in order for the papers to be legal anyway, so he would be there to make sure your ex couldn’t try anything nefarious.

Despite countless nights sat with your parents on the couch in your living room, you still hadn’t come up with a name for your daughter. Your mother’s family hailed from France and your father’s family hailed from Italy, so you wanted something that had both ethnic backgrounds.

As soon as you laid eyes on your baby, after hours of labour, you knew instantly what her name would be.

Colette Vincenza L/n

You were always thankful that she was a well behaved baby, she had only really started acting like the stories you’d heard when she was teething. But once she had all her teeth, she was a kindhearted angel for you and your parents. That’s how she was, even as she continued growing.

When Colette was just over a year old, you had met someone while going about your day in the French markets. The stroller was in front of you as you browsed the stalls. You had been so absorbed in your daughter that you had failed to notice someone walking the opposite direction and had accidentally bumped into them. Because of the impact, the man had spilled some of his hot drink in front of him, and consequently onto your daughter’s stroller. You quickly grabbed Colette out and started to sooth her, as she had been shocked and started to cry. Amidst you trying to sooth your daughter and double check that none of the hot liquid had fallen on her, the man had started apologising profusely.

“It’s alright, really. I should have been more aware of the surroundings.” As you continued to rock Colette, you finally looked up at whoever you had bumped into. He was very handsome, looked to be around your age, and was clearly worried that he had unknowingly hurt the small baby with you.

“No no, it’s my fault as well. I wasn’t paying attention at all. Please let me repay you, I would never forgive myself if I didn’t help you somehow.” He sounded so sincere you couldn’t help but take a bit of pity on him.

“I promise you, you don’t need to do anything. But if it would make you feel better, and if you don’t have anywhere to be right now, you could tag along with me while I finish my shopping.” He didn’t hesitate to agree, feeling bad enough as it was.

Noticing that Colette had calmed down now, you ran your hand down the back of her head and spoke to her as you put her back in the stroller.

“Tu vas bien maintenant Lette, Maman t'a eu.” (You’re okay now, Lette. Mummy’s got you.)

“Tu parles français?” (You speak French?)

You looked at him as you resumed walking through the markets. “Oui. En plus de l'italien et de l'anglais, j'ai parlé français toute ma vie.” (Yes. Along with Italian and English, I have spoken French all my life)

“Abbiamo già due cose in comune.” His smile when he spoke in his mother tongue was gorgeous, but it had nothing on his smile when he spoke Italian. You couldn’t help but grin back at him. (We already have two things in common)

You continued talking with each other and by the end of the day you had learnt two very important things about him. His name was Arthur Leclerc and he was a Formula 2 racing driver for Ferarri’s Driver Academy. Eventually you had noticed it was getting late so you exchanged phone numbers to keep in touch and went back home.

That was almost five years ago and since then, Arthur had taken you on many dates, some alone and some with your daughter. He was there for almost all of her firsts. Her first words, first steps and even her first loose tooth. Eventually he asked if you wanted to be his girlfriend and, though you had hesitated at first, you had become official with him.

Arthur was over at your place playing with Colette when you heard someone knock on your door. You looked at each other confused as you weren’t expecting anyone tonight, your parents would’ve called ahead if they were going to come by. Getting up from your seat, you gave Arthur a kiss and kissed Colette’s head before going to answer your door.

The person standing behind it was very impatient as they kept knocking on the hardwood door.

“Arrivo subito, calmati.” You called as you unlocked the door and opened it. Seeing who it was, you almost closed it straight away if he hadn’t put his foot in the way to stop it. (I’ll be right there, calm down.)

“Cosa stai facendo qui?” You tried to keep your anger in check as you looked at him expectantly. (What are you doing here?)

“You know I don’t speak Spanish.”

“C'était italien, connard. What do you want?” Your patience was wearing thin. (That was Italian, asshole)

“I think you already know.” The bastard had the nerve to smirk when he spoke to you.

“You have no right to her. You signed those damn papers. Even if you hadn’t, you had six years to see her. Why now?”

“I was in the area. Thought I’d stop by.”

“Well, you stopped. Now you can go.” You kicked his foot none too gently and closed the door before he could continue. Locking the door, you turned and walked back to where your boyfriend and daughter were still playing. Taking note of the time, you gently ushered Colette to bed before you and Arthur also began getting ready to sleep.

There was no need to tell Arthur who was at your door, as your house was very open plan so he could hear the entire conversation from the living room. As you both laid down, he held you close and comforted you until you both fell asleep.

The next morning, you woke up before Arthur, seeing as you had to begin working. You were glad that you had started a home business because it meant that you didn’t need to make the commute to work through morning traffic. All you had to do was get dressed and sit down in your home office so you could start answering emails from customers about their packages arriving damaged.

Arthur had slept in a little that morning meaning that he was awoken by Colette climbing into your bed to lay next to him. When she saw he was awake, she nuzzled her face into his neck and he wrapped his arms around her gently.

“Can I talk to you?” She asked him. “Without Maman?”

Arthur was a little worried about what she wanted to talk about, as she hadn’t ever come to speak with him alone.

“But of course, Petit, what’s wrong?”

“I heard Maman talking to that man yesterday, and I know I’m still little and that Maman doesn’t talk about my Papa, but I know that was him.”

Arthur felt entirely out of his depth. He knew Colette was smart, he praised her constantly for it, but he hadn’t expected her to understand what happened the night before.

“Did it bother you that he came here?” Arthur was ready to hunt him down and tell him to never even think about you or Colette ever again.

“Not really. I know he helped Maman make me, but he’s not my real papa. It just made me think about something.”

“And what did you think about, Petit?”

“Would it be okay if I called you Papa? Je vois comment Grand-père rend Grand-mère heureuse, et tu rends Maman heureuse, alors je voulais te demander.” (I see how Grandpa makes Grandma happy, and you make Mummy happy, so I wanted to ask.)

Because the walls inside your home were very thin, you could hear the entire conversation between your daughter and your boyfriend. You were a little shocked at what she said but your heart swelled with more love than you thought possible when Arthur replied.

“I would be honoured for you to call me Papa.”

hehehehehehe I love this so much

The poll was VERY clear that people wanted this asap so here it is!

I hope you enjoyed reading!

likes, replies and reblogs are always appreciated <3

#formula 1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 fluff #formula one #formula 1 #arthur leclerc #arthur leclerc imagine #arthur leclerc x reader #al12 #can I still tag as F2 even if he's not racing??#i'll do it anyway #f2 #formula 2 #formula two #formula 2 fic #formula two imagine #i love you all <3 #MUAH <3

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paracosmic-murdock · 5 months

Text

these colors fade for you only ; benedict bridgerton x reader (part i)

pairing: benedict bridgerton x fem!reader

summary: one thing worse than seeing your enemy often was living under the same roof, certainly, and you and benedict suffered from that unfortunate condition. not even the eleven years you've slept separated by a thin wall only helped you overcome that hatred, you would always hate each other. or not really, because it's too definite to say something as such when a few hours could change the meaning of until the end of time.

warnings/tags: enemies to lovers, sexual tension, very inappropriate behavior for the 1810s, colin bridgerton being a little shit, two people who hate each other locked in a room, what could possibly go wrong?, nude paintings, implied smut, song: sunlight (hozier)

word count: 3.2K

❁ part ii

❁ mila's anthology (main masterlist)

One thing about Benedict Bridgerton is how you could ruin even the best of days for him.

One thing about you is how much you loved to make him mad and see the frustration on his face.

Another thing about Benedict Bridgerton is how pathetically obsessed he was with insulting you in any chance he gets.

Another thing about you is how you were willing to do absolutely anything to bother him or tease him.

You acted like children: always arguing, always making fun of each other, always making everyone at Bridgerton House completely insane with your bickering the entire day.

One thing was having to see your enemy often. One way worse was living under the same roof.

Eleven years ago, your parents had an accident, and you have lived with the Bridgertons ever since, as your mother was Violet Bridgerton's best friend since childhood.

Devastated for years, you accompanied the Bridgertons in their grief for Edmund, which was what ultimately gave you strength to go on with your life. All of you.

But that was the very same thing that ignited your rivalry with the second Bridgerton: your enthusiasm would collide with his mourning and harsh words coming out of his mouth you had no will to tolerate.

It began with his insults to you, though you knew he didn't mean to be rude, and it was all his grief doing the talk. When you couldn't tolerate it anymore, you started insulting him back.

Then, Benedict would play pranks that went too far, and you would burn his sketches in the chimney.

Benedict started sabotaging any chance you could get to find a suitor and you would spread silly rumors about his performance in the bedroom with his friends from the Academy.

Thanks to his efforts, not even being named Diamond of the Season was enough for you to find a husband, which was already making you feel like a failure, not to mention a burden to the Bridgertons. Benedict's fault also.

“Anthony, has he come back?”

He gave you a pitiful look. “I am sorry, Y/N, but I spoke to Lord Raeken to ask him his intentions, and he said he was not interested in marrying you.”

“What?” You gasped. “But everything was going so well! He- he invited us for dinner last week! His mother and Aunt Violet befriended each other even!”

“You will not like what I am going to say.” Anthony anticipated, and you already knew whose fault it was.

“It was Benedict?! Again?!”

Anthony nodded. “I talked to him… It was a threat. He said he would fix it, and I promise you that Lord Raeken will propose to you. If not, he is not worthy of you, and that is all.”

“Nobody is worthy of me, then? He… ruined it with the Duke of Sussex, with Lord Leclerc, with the Count-, I… Why does he keep doing this, Anthony?” You whimpered. You didn't even notice when you started crying, but before anything happened, he hugged you tightly. “Has he not tormented me enough already?”

The eldest Bridgerton knew all too well of your inner motives to hate each other, but decided not to meddle in your war anymore unless it was a case as delicate as this.

“Promise me you will not ruin his latest painting, Y/N,” he begged. “I am trying to work on a peace accord between the two of you, so as long as you stop doing things to him, he will stop messing with you.”

You sighed. “If I do not marry this season, I will have no other choice but to find a job as a governess.”

“Why do you even say that?” He frowned.

“Because it has been eleven years of you sponsoring me, and I believe that it is too much time.”

“You think you are a burden for us?” Anthony asked, and your silence answered. “The day you leave us will be one of the saddest for us Bridgertons, Y/N. You are like our sister, and we love you and care about you as such. Perhaps it has not worked before, but do you really believe that a man that loves you will let none other than Benedict intimidate him?”

“Gregory is more threatening than him,” you noted. “And those dimples could melt the coldest of hearts!”

Anthony smiled. “Do not think too much of it. We shall find you a husband before the season ends.”

“Alright.”

“Now go, I believe Colin is expecting you, and I have many things to do.”

“Sure thing.” you replied.

Once you were out of his office, you gathered the baby blue skirt and ran to Benedict's studio. There, you saw the painting Anthony begged you not to ruin.

It was a woman's naked figure, quite a graceful one. And it was beautifully portrayed.

It would be a shame for it to be ruined. Thank God you did not promise Anthony a thing.

It was still wet, so it was not difficult to use other colors and mix them with the paint so it would look different. You also spilled droplets of red and signed your name on the painting where he had his.

Then, you cleaned your hands and ran to the door.

“Colin!” you exclaimed, and he turned around. “We are going to find Benedict right now.”

He frowned, annoyed. “What happened now?”

“Lord Raeken won't marry me for something Benedict did. Now I must speak to him.”

“It is getting late. We will not get to the tailor in time if we go to Benedict first.”

“Please?” You begged Colin. “I can get on my knees if you wish, but please…”

Colin rolled his eyes. “Alright, let's- oh, there he is!”

You looked in the same direction as him and noticed Benedict getting home. He seemed mad, and your face lost all its life when you thought of what could happen when he saw his painting ruined by you.

“Let's get out of here, Colin…” you muttered once Benedict passed you without even saying hello.

“Why? Benedict is here if you wish to talk to him.”

“It might not be a great time right now…”

“Why?”

“Y/N, I swear to God!”

“Because…” You gave Colin a sheepish look at Benedict's scream.

“What did you do?”

“He started it!”

Colin rolled his eyes. “Did you-”

“Come inside right now!” Benedict yelled once he reached the door. “I am dead serious.”

You sighed, walking next to Colin. “He is going to kill me, Colin.”

“You do not know that.”

“I did something bad.”

“So did he.”

You pursed your lips. “Tell Daphne that only Francesca is a good fit to replace me as Auggie's godmother once I die.”

“Do not say that.”

“What on Earth were you thinking?!”

“What on Earth were you thinking?!” You mimicked him, anger coming to surface again as you reached his studio.

“This was an assignment for tomorrow morning!”

“Well, Lord Raeken was my whole future, Benedict!” you yelled back.

“Look at it! It is ruined!”

Colin was annoyed enough of your fights, and seeing the keys was enough for him to know there was only one solution.

So he did it and thought that you would either kill each other or make amends.

The third Bridgerton exited the room quietly and thanked your bickering for being distracting enough so you did not notice when he closed the door and locked it from outside.

“What are you doing?” Anthony asked when he saw Colin lock the door.

“Forcing those two to reconcile.”

The eldest brother chuckled. “Best of luck with that.”

“I know they will get over it,” he said, sitting on the floor next to the door. “I shall stay here even if it takes me the whole night.”

Anthony joined him. “This should be fun.”

“I do not care if it is ruined, Benedict… you can ruin my future but you draw a line at ruined paintings?!”

“Do you not know how important my career is for me?! You can find another suitor anytime!”

You groaned. “This is my third season, and I have not found a husband! I was the Diamond of my first Season, Benedict! And you have been ruining all of them for me!”

“I have not ruined anything. They simply are not a good fit for the family!”

“I am done listening to you.” You walked away from him and tried, in vain, to open the door.

After looking around, you noticed Colin was supposed to be in the room with you but he wasn't.

“Colin Bridgerton, open this door right now!” You banged the door, making him flinch. “Someone, open the door! We are locked in here!”

Benedict believed you simply weren't strong enough to open it, so he joined you trying to open it but couldn't while his brothers hid their laughter. He looked for the keys but couldn't find them either.

“Colin must have taken the keys,” he noted.

You sighed tiredly. “Somebody open the door! Please, we are trapped!”

“Open the door! Colin!”

“They will not let us out.” you told him.

“Perhaps we should just say we made amends and they will open the door.”

“Do you think he is an idiot? Only a fool would believe you and I could reach an agreement overnight, let alone the ten minutes we have been here.”

He groaned, giving up on escaping the room and returning to the conflict. “How are you so blind, Y/N? How can you fail to see that they are not right for the family?”

“I beg your pardon?! You do not even know them!”

“Is that so?” he questioned, getting closer to you. “Lord Leclerc, a widower who had lovers left and right while his late wife was terribly ill, the Duke of Sussex is a dull rat, and the Count had three illegitimate children by the time he set foot on Mayfair. They are not good people for us.”

“If that is what worries you so, I can leave forever after I marry!”

“Do you truly think this family will survive a week without seeing you? Mother is devastated at Daphne's absence… yours would kill her.”

You rolled your eyes. “We are not even a real family, are we? I am not related to you, I am a mere burden, so why do you not take any of them as your chance to get rid of me?”

“I did not mean that. Stop bringing it to the table each time it suits your purpose to manipulate me.”

“I could seriously kill you with my bare hands right now, Benedict…” you spoke, outraged. “What is it that I did for you to hate me so much?!”

“It is not worth talking about that now.”

“Why are you like this with me, Benedict? At this point, I would marry just about any man who could take me away from you.”

His heart skipped a beat. “We can't just let you marry anyone, alright?”

“Why do you even care?!”

“Because I cannot let you go with someone I do not trust…”

“What will it even take for you to trust any of them?”

“I could never trust them, Y/N, because I can't trust in someone who does not love you devotedly and absolutely.”

Your lips formed a line of disdain at his words. “How would you even know they don't if you do not give them the chance to truly get to me?”

“Because no one does.”

“Wow,” you laughed bitterly. “Thanks for reminding me how unlovable I am.”

“You do not understand, Y/N.”

“Explain it to me, then!” You asked, you begged him.

“No one does it like I do, my goodness!” he screamed, and you were sure it echoed through the whole floor.

You choked on your own spit at his confession, and at the other side of the door, Colin and Anthony looked at each other completely flabbergasted.

“We should leave.” Anthony whispered. “Unlock the door.”

Colin nodded. “I agree, we should let them out.”

Anthony nodded and left, but Colin was determined.

He certainly did not unlock the door.

“What?” you asked in almost a whisper.

Benedict seemed surprised at his own words, as if he had spoken from ignorance because… it couldn't be real, could it? He couldn't be in love with you.

“I…”

“Benedict…”

“You are my family,” he ‘corrected’ himself. “Conflict in families is not uncommon. It is fine. I care about you, and I… we do not want you to be the wife of a man that does not deserve you, Y/N. You are sunlight, and they are nothing but a gray sky.”

You breathed out shakily, looking at his blue eyes deeply, feeling like you had never seen such blue in your entire life. “I am sorry about your painting.”

“It is alright, I will try to fix it; maybe if Colin lets us out, I can go back to the Academy before it is too late. Find a model-”

“Is that what you need? A model?”

Benedict cleared his throat, guessing where it was going, though scared of it. “Yes, but it should not be difficult to find one at the Academy.”

“We will not be let out,” you reminded him and gave it all a careful thought.

You were aware it wasn't right. He was a man, and you were a woman who was not married to him. He must not see you naked under any circumstances, but again… he saved you from those men who weren't worth it, and you paid him by ruining his artwork. It was not fair, so you owed him.

You could break the rules a little. After all, you were locked in a room for God only knows how long.

So you nodded and started undressing. “I could model for you if that is what you need.”

“What? Do not, I-”

“What is the difference between that woman and I?”

Benedict's brain told him to stop you. It was definitely not right for a lady like you to be seen naked before marriage. Worse than that, be painted.

“Y/N…”

“Am I not interesting enough to paint, Benedict?” you questioned as your dress reached the floor. “I just wish to make up for what I did.”

You started undoing your corset under his careful eyes.

“If what worries you is my identity, I believe you could use the other model's face,” you added once the corset was discarded and your bosom fully exposed to him. “It is intact in your painting.”

“I am afraid your grace cannot be compared.”

You exhaled nervously when your shaking hands reached the beginning of your underpants. “Then make justice to it.”

Finally, you stood completely naked before him and didn't dare to be modest about it.

“Paint me.”

You walked to the couch and laid in a similar position as the model in his painting.

“I cannot ask that of you.” He tried one last time, gathering all the strength in his body… You were a lady, and he was a gentleman; no matter how rare that would be of him to stop you. It was not right, but what a sight he had before him.

“Then it is good that I offered.” you refuted.

He doubted for longer than he is willing to admit, but ultimately approached you with hesitant steps.

“Allow me,” he whispered as he reached you. You nodded, and he accommodated your head so you would be looking up at the ceiling and your hands to cover what could be seen of your face to his art's convenience delicately. His touch, hot, caused goosebumps on your skin. A gasp left your lips. “You truly are beautiful.”

“Thank you.” you mumbled.

Benedict returned to the canvas, telling himself he could do this.

He shouldn't.

But if your face wouldn't be seen, it would do no harm. Only you and him would know it's you.

A few hours had passed and the night had fallen. It was difficult to paint with the growing darkness hiding your features, so he left his piece for a second to find some candles.

Before he returned to the canvas, you spoke. “Am I doing it well?”

“You certainly are,” he praised you. “A natural indeed.”

You had goosebumps once again.

What is wrong with me?, you asked yourself.

How could Benedict, of all people, make you feel like this? How could he control the speed of your heartbeat with mere words? How could he turn your skin into a burning mess that acted as if it was freezing? How could he make your hands sweat each time he got closer? How could he make you forget how much you despised him after he said he loved you?

How did he love you? He said you were family, but he did not dare to call you a sister like his siblings always do. No, this was a different kind of love: the kind of love you read about in the romance novels you have stolen from his library, because that is the way you were feeling near his presence, under his stare, at his touch.

“Come here,” you commanded long before you thought what you would say. He complied, flying to you like a moth to a flame, but you were sunlight: billions of times more powerful, and you could consume him long before he dared to reach you. He felt like a moth with wigs made of wax, melting with each step that brought him close to you. Gladly. “How do you love me, Benedict?”

“What?”

It was unbelievable that a man of words like him could act so clueless, but there he was. Oblivious to your passion, not to mention his.

“I have always been your Mama's daughter and your brothers and sisters' sister. But I have never been yours,” you mentioned. “Why, if you love me so?”

“Y/N…” His hand caressed your face, and you took the other to put it on your left breast where he could feel your heart beating.

“Kiss me if what my beating heart says about your love is true.” It was an order, and that heart of yours was certainly right.

And right then, he knew he was careless of his own insignificance. He would fly as high as the melting wax allowed him to and fall as deep into the ocean as his own weight imposed.

He could drown and disappear, live and die for this moment. For all the frustration that has haunted him all those years of loathing and yearning. For his sunlight, for you.

He kissed you, and you returned the kiss as if your lips had ever touched others before.

They haven't.

They shouldn't.

But they are now.

It was an angry kiss. Wet, carnal, breathless, hot, feral, everything.

His lips did not caress yours or danced with yours, no; they fought and devoured yours, and you gave in.

It was exquisite but depraved in a way you couldn't bring yourself to explain, and you absolutely loved it.

Once the kiss ended, you were the first to talk. “Take it all off.”

He breathed out, nerves he does not recall to have ever felt scared his determination away.

He felt as pathetic as those men he threatened to ruin if they were to set foot in the same room as you ever again, and he took off his clothes with the urgency of a task set by the scary educator of his childhood.

You looked at him, took it all in, and gave him space to lay beside you.

“It's just us, Benedict…” you let out, your breath blending with his. “You can love me now.”

His cue.

#benedict bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton smut #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton imagine

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soobinsonly1bf · 5 months

Note

Imagining sub!txt 'n their dom!bf and how stupid they get for even the tiniest bit of dick. Like, they get so pathetic for it after seeing their member!bf on stage being sexy and performing... I might actually write this myself tehehe—from ur pookie @seventhcallisto

DAMN IT HAPPENED!! I GOT AN ASK WITH A MALE!READER!!!! i waited for it😔

sub!txt + being needy for cock

warnings: nsfw, male!idol!reader, sub!txt, dom!reader, anal (obviously...), crying while fucking (in yeonjun one), degradation (in soob and gyu one), kinda exhibitionism (in soob one), use of word slut (in yeonjun and gyu one), mention of oral (in hyuka one)

a/n: IDK WHY THE SOOBIN ONE IS SO LONG, ALRIGHT?????

!!nsfw under the cut, minors dni!!

yeonjun

he sees you performing just as good as always... being just as perfect as always. everytime he's standing next to you in a choreography, he can't help, but sneak a glance at you, from time to time smirking. it's not his fault that you look so good he can't take his eyes off you...

it really is a surprise for you when yeonjun whispers to you "you're gonna fuck me good after the concert, yeah?" right on the stage. you look at him with a shocked expression, but quickly try to get over it.

obviously, you fulfill his wish. he can't help the tears going down his face as you pound into him. "am i fucking you good? or should i try harder?" you tease and he's not even able to speak. he just mumbles little "fuck"'s and "love you"'s as he tries to not let fans, that still didn't left the stadium, know how much of a slut he is for your dick.

soobin

he stands right next to you, but for him it feels like you're on a different level. sweat dripping from your face, your hair wet and you're still doing your absolute best. you really are a professional.

he catches himself staring at you and immidiately realizes you're both on the stage, right in front of your fans. why are you so hot tho? there's no need to be so sexy, is it? he can't help, but want to take your dick right there in front of all your fans and other members...

so when the concert finishes and you're going backstage, soobin immidiately throws himself at you and drags you to a random room. the only important thing is for it to have a lock and no people inside, the rest doesn't matter.

you're not really surprised, you know how needy he is... also, it's not the first time.

"please, please, we have a lot of time before we leave... just- god, please..." he whines, pressing his hips to yours and trying to grind himself... he really is pathetic.

"god, soobin, you're seriously so needy for cock? what a shame your female fans can't hear how you beg for dick... my dick. they would be shocked, don't you think?"

"baby... please- i'll be good, you know it... just- just a goddamn tip, please?" you look at him, kinda surprised at how needy he is... but you already know he will get what he wants.

beomgyu

he's eye fucking you the whole concert, you just hope you're the only one who sees the way he looks at you...

but he definitely did too much when on a quick "break" to change your outfits, he sat on your lap and started grinding on you... how the fuck are you supposed to come back on stage with a goddamn boner? this stupid brat...

you make him regret his bratty behaviour when the concert ends. you immidiately take him to a random room, throw him on a sofa and start fucking him.

"are you fucking happy now? that's exactly what you wanted, isn't it? stupid, horny slut, just needing cock when we're supposed to go on stage."

"shit, i- i'm sorry- ah, fuck... i didn't mean to- god, s-slow down!" he whines, but both of you know damn well, that he wants nothing more than you to be rought with him...

taehyun

you're worried. he's not talking to you, not even looking at you. fans are confused why two of you suddenly didn't interacted at all for the whole concert.

everything's clear when you're backstage. he looks at you with his boba eyes in a specific way and you immidiately know what's going on.

"we're gonna be back in... some time. we need to talk something out, so don't worry and don't interrupt us, please." you say and drag him into a different room, quickly kissing him.

you both aren't even sure when kissing became you fucking him against the wall. suddenly you stopped, making him whine. "i want you to finally look at me." you say as you pull out of him, making him whine once more. soon you're sitting with him on your lap, on a chair.

"now keep your eyes on me... don't close your pretty eyes if you want me inside again."

hyuka

he's not even trying to be unsuspicious, he just straight up says "guys, yn looks really handsome today, doesn't he?" to the fans. like four times. you just chuckle and try to ignore it.

you have seriously enough of it when hyuka calls you sexy. you know he didn't meant anything wrong, he just wanted to compliment you... he shouldn't do all that on the stage tho.

you just glare at him, as if you want to tell him to shut up already, but he just smiles cutely in response... he's too adorable for his own good.

he's also as adorable as before when he gets on his knees. "please... can i at least suck you off? we- we don't need to do anything else, alright? i just- please, i want you so bad..."

"just a taste, huh? no worries, you're too cute to refuse."

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brayneworms · 1 year

Text

shoot it up (straight to the heart).

featuring. childe/reader

word count. 5.7k

content. merc!reader, drinking, kissing, masochist!childe because i am not immune to that agenda, sparring, gender neutral reader, childe is a little shit, blood, finger sucking, biting, handjobs, hair pulling, one instance of degradation (whore), light begging and light crying.

synopsis. childe has always found you fascinating; now that his stint in liyue is up and he's scheduled to return to snezhnaya, he takes the opportunity to get something from you he's wanted for months.

notes. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, i check the notes and you will be blocked.

"Ahh, the scourge of the complacent! Fancy seeing you here on a night like tonight."

You tip your eyes up to the ceiling of the inn; his voice rings out clear as bells over the chatter and rowdiness, and maybe it's a mark of your attunement to his specific brand of irksomeness that you hear the bounce of his footsteps approach over the general cacophony of laughter and drinks slamming.

There are four empty stools at the bar. He takes the one right next to you, sliding home with a boyish grin. You scratch at your forehead with all the fatigue of a working mother-of-five, catch the bartender's eye, and silently flag down another drink.

Tartaglia whistles as you raise the cup to your lips, making you pause; mead sops against your mouth, burning against raw picked skin. "I see even the alcohol of Liyue is no match for you, scourge."

"Don't call me that," you say flatly, and knock the cup back. There isn't enough booze in this whole tavern to make this a bearable conversation, but at least you could soften the edges. If you got drunk enough, you might be able to pretend he was nothing more than a lurid ginger mosquito buzzing around your head for attention.

Attention you always seemed to grant, no matter how much you swear you'll ignore him.

"Your lovely friend at the funeral parlour told me I might find you here," Tartaglia continues talking even though you're staring at the ceiling praying for patience. "She's pretty fond of you, huh? Can't imagine why, with your prickly attitude—oh, barkeep, I'll have what they're having, please." He flashes a pearly grin at the bartender, who pours him a cup of mead.

"Did you come here just to bother me?" you grit out, staring at the dregs in your cup; it sloshes darkly amongst the dull silver, and you can see a glimmer of a reflection, your eye staring back at you.

"What an ego you sport!" Tartaglia sounds righteously offended. "I came here to drink." And as if to prove his point, he raises his cup to his lips and takes a deep gulp. You can see his pale throat flex as he swallows, the bob of bones beneath papery skin.

He coughs a little as he sets the cup back down, empty. You try not to let your surprise show on your face.

"Liyue mead has quite the burn," Tartaglia comments. "You'd think I'd be used to it after being weaned on that Snezhnyan paint-thinner, but what can I say? This place has a kick."

He leans back on his barstool, a vaguely soft, wistful look passing over his features. Then he says, "I'll certainly miss it."

The cup slips from your fingers, and you curse yourself. "You're leaving?"

Tartaglia smiles, a little sadly. "The Tsaritsa summoned me back. I'll have to take off by the end of the week."

"No shit?" Tartaglia's been posted here and bothering you for way longer than you arrived to act as a temporary guard for the Wangsheng Funeral Parlour. You weren't sure why such a place needed extra beef with security, but it paid well, and Hu Tao and Zhongli were well-meaning employers and good company, so you could hardly complain. That was the beauty of freelance, after all.

"Oh? You sound disappointed." Tartaglia leans forward, cupping his chin in his hand; his eyes find yours, gleaming in the low light. "What? Don't tell me you're going to miss me?"

You glare at him. "Do people miss the mosquitoes they swat when they're buzzing around their head?"

"You always act like I'm vermin," Tartaglia pouts. "Still, you're having a drink with me—I consider that a victory."

"One of your few," you toast, raising your cup, and Tartaglia's playful expression sullens a touch, like a cloud covering up the sun. "Oh, don't get all kicked-puppy on me. Thought you could take a little pain."

"Better than you know," Tartaglia says with a stunning return to form and a coy grin. You must be just tipsy enough to entertain him, because you don't seize a handful of his bright hair and ram his face into the bar like you briefly consider doing. There wouldn't be much in it for you beyond the satisfying crack of bone and yelp of pain. As for Tartaglia, he'd probably get off on it.

You both down another cup, and now the lines that make up the tavern are starting to blur pleasantly. There's a soft, fuzzy feeling filling you up, like you're made of cotton instead of flesh and blood and magic. A faint flush has made itself known on Tartaglia's cheekbones, lurid against his hair, illuminating the scatter of freckles across the bridge of his nose. He's surprisingly lightweight, for as hard as you known Snezhnayan liquor to be.

"Would you walk with me?" Tartaglia holds your eye like he's making a promise, though not to you. He says half the things he says like he's talking to someone else, someone you cannot see. He holds out a gloved hand, grinning. "C'mon. I want to show you something."

Your brows knit up, suspicious. "Why me?"

"I'm currently not speaking to any of my other friends," Tartaglia says haughtily. "Sneaks and liars, all of 'em. As, uh, disarming as you are, scourge, at least you're honest. So... c'mon. Humour a man's last wish."

"You're not dying," you say acidly, but you get up. Tartaglia grins, delighted, sweeping up his coat from the barstool and paying out. You follow him out of the tavern; Liyue comes alive at night, you think, the harbour glimmering with a thousand lights, the water lapping at the chalky walls. Tartaglia takes your hand as the tavern door swings shut behind you. He runs warm, and you can see freckles spiralling up his wrist, and before you can protest he's started a brisk pace away from the water.

"The hell?" you mutter, making a weak attempt at taking your arm back. "Hey. Tartaglia. Where are we going?"

"So formal," he calls over his shoulder. "You can call me Childe, you know."

"Like that's even your real name," you roll your eyes. "What difference does it make?"

"Hm. Tartaglia feels more like a title. It's the name I use when I want to intimidate, you know?" He looks over his shoulder at you, the dull blue of his eyes catching in the moonlight. "I'm not foolish enough to think I could ever intimidate you, of all people."

And when he says that, it feels like a compliment. You curse the hot prickling you can feel at the backs of your ears as he leads you through town, up near where the mountains crest. It's all rickety ladders and bridges for a while before you come to a plane nestled between two great rocks. Grass and gravel spill out beneath your feet; in the middle of the wobbly circle is a wooden training dummy with chunks carved out of it. Torches bracket the space, filling the night with shifting bronze light.

It occurs to you briefly that Childe could be luring you out here to kill you, but just as easily the notion flees. He might be Fatui, and he might be insufferable, but the two of you have no real grievances as far as you know.

Besides—you're stronger. And the both of you know it.

You sweep a flat look around the circle and raise a brow. “Homey.”

Childe giggles. “You’re always so sharp-tongued, scourge. I’ve been reflecting on my stint in Liyue in light of everything, you know? What with my leaving so soon. I remembered the first time I saw you fight.”

Your brows draw up, taken aback; this is not a sentiment he has shared with you before. He paces as he talks, starts gesticulating like he’s trying to stir up a wind, though the night is virtually breezeless. Warm and damp and encapsulating. A line of sweat encroaches under your collar.

“Some treasure-hoarders, they made a chokepoint out in the Guili Planes to intercept traders going down the road,” he tells you, as if this is news. “Zhongli asked me to deal with them myself, ‘cause they were stopping import to the city. But as soon as I got up there to scout it out, I saw you. What you’d left, anyway. This… trail. Like this—this big patch of carnage and you just in the middle of it, going blade-to-blade with this monster of a thief twice your size. Would you believe I was almost arrogant enough to think you needed my help?” His eyes shine feverishly, the moonlight catching off dead-fish-blue. “You brought him to heel like a misbehaving dog. He gave you a bloody nose and you just—just wiped at it like it was nothing. Didn’t it hurt? Always wanted to know if it hurt.”

“It hurt,” you manage, frozen with shock. He’s getting entirely too het-up too quickly, feverish in his excitement, pale cheeks flushed wine-red, and he moves closer as he waves his hands, eyes locked onto you like he’s a dog and you’re his master. It makes your blood feel too thick and too hot in your veins.

“Thought so,” he breathes. “Thought it must’ve. It kinda… it sings, though. Doesn’t it?”

Stuck, you nod, though you only half understand what he’s talking about.

Apparently satiated, Childe rubs the back of his neck bashfully. "Hah, sorry. You really get me talking, scourge."

"Don't give me the credit," you mumble. "It's one of your natural talents."

"Wanna see another one of my natural talents?" Childe grins; at your sharp look, he raises his hands placatingly, smile stretching ever wider. "I meant fighting, of course. C'mon. Truthfully, I've been thinking about it ever since that day. Fighting you."

He says that—fighting you—with the same sort of soft reverence one might reserve for making love or worshipping a deity. Like it's the centre of his world, the cell his heart was born from. You wonder how long it's been since Childe's days were anything but fighting, then reckon that that's probably a deliberate choice.

When he holds out a blunt wooden training staff out to you, his hands are perfectly steady. You heft it in your grip, getting used to the weight and balance. You're more accustomed to knives and swords, and small blades you can slip into your boot or belts, but you're not unfamiliar with polearms, exactly.

"Feel good?"

You jump; Childe's pressed closer to you in the time it took to examine your new weapon, and his words are accompanied with a brush of warm air across the back of your ear. "It's okay."

"Good! I want you at top form for this." He slopes off, twirling his own staff between gloved fingers obnoxiously. It makes a faint whistling sound against the warm night air. "Think you're ready?"

"Ready?" You can't help but sneer. "I don't need to be ready to fight a pest. I just do it."

Childe's grin is so wide that the flushed apples of his cheeks turn pointy. "Alright, killer. I've been looking forward to this for a while, and, y'know, I dunno when the next time is I'll meet someone as interesting as you... so don't disappoint me, yeah?"

The first crack of your staffs together sings.

It's an old melody, one you're attuned to, one you think you were born with. Impact shivers up your bones, disturbs the skin in a railroad of gooseflesh, sets your teeth on edge. There's the anticipation, the moment right before the new sensation turns uncomfortable or painful, like pressing down on a bruise, the moment before it starts hurting. The staffs gnash together like wooden teeth.

"You're quick," Childe says approvingly as you draw your arm back to your side, circling him in short steps. His eyes follow the lines of your body like he's trying to set you alight. You're not sure why you're doing this, actually—your relationship with Childe has been nothing but tepid the whole time he's been stinted in Liyue. From your end, anyways. He tends to sort of follow you around like a lost puppy when he has free time. No matter how many times you smack him and send him reeling, he always comes back with a bone clamped between his teeth, looking for fun.

A drink, a fuck. A fight. Maybe it's all sort of the same to him.

Your fight is a dance; Childe is undeniably skilled, and polearms aren't your first choice of weapon, so it's a fairly even fight despite your strength. Several times he moves far too quickly for you to comprehend—like you blink and he's shifted with the moonlight, gone from in front to behind you in a second. Laughing, poking, teasing until your blood is boiling despite the cold.

When you finally land a hit on him, it's sweet. Your staff cracks across his jaw with all the force of his annoyance to you over the last months, and Childe barely has time to widen his eyes before he crashes to the dirt. He lets out a pained grunt as he plants into the earth, and just as you're opening your mouth to gloat—

"Again."

It cracks into the night air like the crash of your staff against his jaw, pursed between wheezing breaths. His voice sings like cut piano strings, dissonant against what is happening. You stand over him, breathing hard, brow cinched as he sprawls in the dirt.

He's got chalky soil all over his pretty light uniform. He doesn't seem to care. Dull blue eyes blink up at you, round as pennies; you can see an angry welt raising on his jaw where your blow had made contact, flaring up scarlet against the pale skin. No doubt it will have flowered into a nasty bruise tomorrow, something the colour of overripe lavender melon.

But Childe grins.

You stumble back, frowning hard, and Childe makes a noise at the back of his throat as he sees you retreat. He scrambles messily to his feet, brushing dirt carelessly from his clothes.

"What?"

Childe cradles his jaw with a hiss. "You pack a punch. But I'm not done yet."

"You said again." You eye him warily, arms still not raised. "What did you..."

He huffs a laugh with a return of that boyish grin. "Ah, caught that, did you? I guess you could say I have a certain admiration for people who can land a hit on me. It's impressive. You're impressive."

Before you can decide whether he's swelteringly egotistical or just a pervert who gets off on pain, Childe lunges, swinging his sparring spear overhead; you shriek and parry it last-minute, your grip faltering enough that the wooden shafts collide with a harsh thwack; you don't fend the blow off completely thanks to your shoddy reaction time, but you manage to avoid getting struck in the head.

"Asshole," you grit out, stumbling left a few paces to get your bearings again; Childe circles you, twirling his spear between deft fingers with a sharp grin.

"I sensed your attention wandering," he shrugs. "You think you can hit me again?"

Your chin juts out, indignant. "Yeah. I'm stronger."

Beneath his lurid red hair, Childe's cheeks colour faintly. "Prove it, killer. Lemme feel it. Hit me—"

And he lunges, spear cracking through the air; this time, you're ready for it, seeing the telltale twitches of his body getting into formation before the pounce. You dodge his first hit, sending the tip of his spear sinking into the dirt, and whilst he's distracted with pulling it out you sweep the shaft of your own against the back of his knees. He buckles with a grunt, staggering, and you use his surprise to barrel your full body weight into his side.

He slips into the dirt, head thudding against the packed earth with a dull thud, and in your momentum you follow. By the time he's blinked the stars out of his eyes, your dagger is pressed up against his throat, nestled amongst the pale skin.

He breathes fast and sharp, a distinct contrast to his general collectedness. Your thighs cage his hips, and even from here you can feel his strength; his skin is shot through with sinew and iron. He could reach up, tussle, throw you off, put up a good fight. But he doesn't. He lays limp like a puppet with its strings cut, looking up at you with big, starry eyes—waiting for you to make the next move.

You come to a rather grim hypothesis.

The blunt tip of the dagger encroaches his skin, pushing in hard enough for blood to bead around it. Childe draws in a ragged gasp.

"Gonna kill me?" His tongue flicks out to wet his bottom lip. He says that like it's an act of worship, like carving his throat out with a cinquedea is akin to leaving incense at a shrine for a far-flung god. Like his blood would be spattered amongst the stars if only you spilled it. Your breath catches; you hadn't been ready for the rush of power Childe's perversion would give you. You can feel it nestling under your skin like a heartbeat.

"I think you could, if you wanted," Childe whispers, and then he shudders at the thought, pretty eyes fluttering closed. He looks like he isn't sparing two thoughts to your hand holding a knife to his throat; skin breaks, and blood makes a thin rivulet down his pale skin. "Mm. Maybe I'd—I'd even let you. You could ask real nice."

"You're hardly in a position to be making demands," you murmur, feeling quite frozen. "Why don't you just be quiet for once?"

At once, Childe falls silent.

His bottom lip has split; probably why he was tonguing at it earlier. Now, with nothing to stop it, blood makes a languid trail down the slope of his chin. With your free hand, with the curiosity of a child petting a stray animal for the first time, you swipe at the trail with the pad of your thumb. You track it up to the seam, the cut, the split, press down hard until the surrounding skin of his lip turns white. You can feel the short, hot shocks of his quick breath against the skin of your nail.

The flash of his tongue surprises you, sliding over the bloody pad of your thumb, cleaning up his mess. A dog licking at its own wounds. Your breath catches, but you've never known when you're wading too deep. It's your one weakness as a fighter. You always think you can take more than you can.

So you press deeper. Your thumb sinks into his mouth up to the knuckle, and Childe lets out a faint groan. There's the ghostly scrape of teeth before his lips close over the skin, tongue swirling over the mess of blood and chalky dirt on the blunt tip of the digit.

Somewhere in the back of your head, you register faintly that this is not normal. Your interactions with Childe have been limited, so far, to snarky deadpans, irritable smacks, and the occasional drink. If you have occasionally caught his eyes lingering on the collar of your shirt, or following you when you enter a room soaked in hilichurl gore, you've made no comment. You'd assumed it would fizzle out, anyway. He's Fatui. They're hardly known for staying in one place a significant portion of time—they're dark-dressed ravens, flocking from place to place and bringing suspicion and misery for a while before taking to the sky again.

But Childe is not scoring the horizon. He's in the dirt with your finger in his mouth, and it looks like he's right at home there.

He releases you with a wet pop. Saliva and blood make a diluted trail down to his chin, and his eyes have peeled open again—heavy and half-lidded, blue slate stone, scoring deep into you. Your body feels hot and too full.

He cracks a lazy smile. "Never seen you speechless before, scourge. Does this mean I win?"

And something snaps.

In a fluid movement, you grab both of his wrists and pin them to the ground beside his head. Childe grunts a sound of surprise as your fingers tighten on his wrists, back instinctively arching from the sudden pressure; one of his legs slips in the earth and knocks against your ankle. He blinks up at you, eyes practically bioluminescent in the night.

"You don't look much like a winner," you snarl.

"Depends on your position."

"You're the Tsaritsa's bitch," you spit. "And if not hers, Zhongli's, or was it Signora who was the last one to get one up on you? Really, you've been failing upwards so much lately it's getting hard to keep count."

Childe's eyes narrow, the first glimmer of defiance sparking in the blue. For the first time you feel him throw his weight behind his halfhearted squirming—he raises his hips to try and buck you off, tugs at your grip on his wrists with renewed vigour. His fighting back shouldn't spark something in you—it shouldn't—but you can feel yourself growing excited.

The thing is, you sort of like killing. People don't get into your line of work if they don't. There's something about holding something down and winning through nothing but sheer strength that makes you feel strong, like you've earned a place on this earth. Watching Childe's jaw tick in frustration the longer he goes without unseating you is making all sorts of dangerous ideas brew in your head.

It's just—maybe it's the drink, or the fight, but the world is still pleasantly pretty and still. And Childe looks sort of gorgeous with his brow all scrunched up like that, the hint of icy anger in his eyes, the gritted teeth. His neck is strained in such a way that bares every jut and bone to you, and you can see his pulse fluttering away under the taut skin, the bob of his adam's apple.

You want to bite it.

Some sort of magnetism pulls you down, nosing at the skin of his neck. Childe grunts, half-frustrated and half-confused when he feels your lips brush over his throat. He smells like salt and mead and copper, labour smells, but his skin here is smooth like it's never seen a day of wear.

"What're you—" Childe huffs out, but his mouth drops open with a choked noise when you seal your teeth in a ring over his neck and bite down. Not quite enough to hurt, you don't think, just enough to satisfy the weird part of you that's sparking for the urge to maim. "Archons, scourge."

Oh dear. His voice has gone all strangled and weak. You dare to release one of his wrists to cup the back of his neck, holding him still, brushing the feathery down of hair on his nape. Automatically, his free hand flies for you, but it stops short, hovering as if unsure.

You can almost feel him weighing his choices in his mind. He has a hand free, and you're not even looking at him. Even if he can't beat you outright, he'd do alright with the element of surprise. He could definitely knock you spinning and flee before you get your bearings.

You wait. Count the fast thuds of Childe's pulse against his neck. The muscles in his free arm go limp, and he wraps it around your waist to pull you closer.

Figuring you're done pretending, you skim your lips up his neck and jaw before catching his mouth in a hard, bruising kiss. Childe moans, softly, into your mouth, hand clenching hard over the fabric of your waist before sliding under. His fingers span out over the small of your back, worn leather and warm flesh, and you shudder despite yourself.

His lips are chapped, and you can taste blood still oozing from the split in the plush lower one. "Someone's sensitive," you gloat, and he huffs. "Not had time to get laid here?"

"What can I say?" Childe's breezy tone would be more believable it it wasn't coming out so strangled. "Been a busy guy. Don't seem to have time for m-many... simple pleasures."

"You always seemed to find time to annoy me, though," you say darkly.

"Less of a luxury, more of a need," Childe breathes. "You make just the most interesting faces when you're irritated."

"Yeah? That get you all wet?"

Childe laughs weakly. "Scourge, please. I'm but a blushing virgin. You'll burn my poor ears off."

You shoot an obvious glance down to the tent straining against Childe's slacks. "I can well believe that."

He squirms in embarrassment, the tips of his ears lighting up scarlet. His eyes blink up at you, the usual lusterless blue fleeing in wake of reflecting the thousands of stars above you, and he seems to glow from the inside out, for a moment. The coppery blood on his face catches the moonlight.

A tongue flicks out to wet his lips, a dog wetting its snout. "Won't you take pity, scourge?" he pleads. "You got me well and truly at your mercy. You win. So..."

Before you can stop to consider the ramifications of your actions, your free hand has already scrambled to his belt buckle. Childe's breath catches, eyes widening as he registers your movements as the brass clinks in the silence. For a moment there's nothing but the hasty shuffling of clothing as you shuck Childe's dirt-streaked trousers down his thighs, his hips lifting to assist. There's a small furrow between his brows, his cheeks alight with a blush that makes his freckles sing against his skin.

The skin of his thighs catches, milk-white in the moonlight. Even here, scars have made their home, pink or bruise-dark, crisscrossing over the flesh in railroads. You get his trousers down past his knees before you stop bothering; he's left in dark underclothes, erection so stiff it's pulling the thin fabric taut, and the slit in his shirt that you've always found obscene betrays the quick, shallow bursts of his breath.

His throat flexes when he swallows. "Are you really going to—mmmgh!"

Childe sputters to a halt with a rather embarrassing high-pitched noise as you cup him through his boxers. You roll your palm experimentally over the tip of the tent, and his eyes flutter shut, rolling back against his skull with a pretty, desperate noise. This side of him is so foreign, but so familiar, so obvious, you wonder why you didn't think of it before.

"Ah, fuck," Childe swears, already sounding breathless. With how obvious he's always been, the lazy slide of his eyes, you'd assumed he had at least some experience—but maybe your teasing just a moment ago was a little more on the nose than you'd anticipated. He's unusually sensitive. "Scourge, I don't—"

"Stop calling me that," you mutter, pulling the fabric of his underwear till it strains against his cock, and he swallows back a gasp, spine arching against the dirt. "Did you want something?"

"You're so cruel," he whines. "Y/n, Archons, please—"

"Alright, alright, you big baby," you sigh, shedding his soaked underwear. Childe shudders, thighs tightening under you as he hits the cold air. The strain of his arousal and the chafing fabric is obvious; pre drips eagerly from the reddish tip, and he fits neatly into your palm when you swipe over the leaking hands before wrapping your fingers around him. Childe jolts into the touch, cursing under his breath, and as you start to jerk him off his lashes flutter. His blue eyes roll to the heavens and his head thumps against the earth with a long, shaky moan.

The night fills with noise, somewhere between what you find obscene and what sends heat rushing between your own legs as your fist pumps lazily up his length. Childe is more receptive than you would've put money on, gasping and swearing, hiccuping small, wounded noises in the back of his throat. His brow is scrunched, lips slack and wet with saliva, eyes screwed shut. His hips jump like they have a brain of their own.

You squeeze, prompting a panicked noise; Childe's eyes fly open and find your sly smile. "You look pretty," you tell him. Childe goes scarlet.

"W-wha?" he dredges up intelligently, frowning. "Why'd you—what?"

You find it funny that you've literally got your hand around his cock, but calling him pretty is apparently what crosses the line in flustering him. You cock your head, grinning.

"You don't think?" you coo. "I think you're lovely like this. I never realised how attractive you'd be once you shut your mouth. Maybe I should beat you in a fight more often."

"W-wouldn't complain," Childe pants, still alight with a feverish blush.

"I'm sure," you say noncommitally. "You fucking whore."

Childe moans, loud and shameless, and his free hand flails to scratch his nails down his own skin. "D-don't stop, fuck, don't stop—"

You stare at the scarlet railroads left on the pale skin of his stomach, and with your free hand yank up his shirt to his chest. Childe lets out a startled sound, looking at you with round, surprised eyes. His torso is littered with scars, raised and pale and dark against freckled skin. He is pretty. You love the marks of his exertions and pains, a history of his losses mapped out over his body. One of his nipple has a healed slash running right through it; when you reach up and tweak it, Childe shudders.

"Anyone would think you like losing," you murmur.

Childe looks at you weakly, crying out when your hand resumes at a faster pace. "Like it when—hnn—when it's real. I like it when they don't hold back. 'S why I'm just—hah!—e-enamoured with you, I guess."

"'Cause I'm ruthless?" you quip.

Childe flutters his lashes. "Nice enough to let me come, I hope," he says sweetly, and it makes your cheeks burn momentarily with embarrassment, the brazenness of his statement. "I'm not above begging."

"I liked you better when you were quiet," you mutter, and swipe your thumb hard over the slit. Childe yelps, muscles melting like butter, and when you start rubbing cruelly like you've found some sort of button his face flames, his mouth drops open, and he lets out a wailing noise, legs thrashing.

"Archons," he keens, but with your free hand you seize and handful of his hair and pull, hard.

"No Archons," you snarl. "Just me."

Tears prick at the corners of Childe's eyes as he rolls his hips to meet your unrelenting strokes, whimpering. "Y-yes, yeah, just you, just you, do that again."

You oblige, dig your fingers into the red hair so deep your nails scrape his scalp, and tug. The tears spill over Childe's lashline as he chokes on the moan that bursts from him at the movement.

"Keep it there," he begs, thighs shaking. "Pleasepleaseplease—"

"You close?" you ask innocently. "Already?"

There's no more pretence; the fine line of pleasure and pain seems to have wrought Childe down to only basic instincts, as his hips roll against your hand as you fist his length rough and quick, head tipped right back against the ground, exposing the heaving column of his throat. The toned concave of his stomach flexes with each punched-out breath, the scars coiling and elongating respectively.

"Please," Childe sobs in answer. "I'll be good, be real good, I'm close..."

You surge forward, digging your face into Childe's neck as you speed up your pace, and sink your teeth into the soft skin at the junction of his neck and shoulder. Hard enough for blood to bubble under your lips, hard enough for Childe to let out a strangled scream as he comes all over your hand, spilling over your fingers and his stomach in pearly arcs.

He's panting when you pull back, winces as you dislodge your teeth and unwind your fingers from his hair. He touches the bite mark with a wince and hiss, examining the blood on his fingers with light interest. It really shouldn't surprise or arouse you nearly as much when he dips them into his mouth and licks them clean.

"Degenerate," you tell him. Childe smiles crookedly, the flush on his face still stark red.

"There's this old saying about a pot and a kettle," he says, voice still weak and shaky.

The bite mark is leaking. As he reaches for you, you get the fleeting thought that it will leave another scar to add to his masses, another permanent trophy of another loss.

A loss to you.

And you smile.

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