#it could slap so much more of i knew how to render!!!! but alas

[beesinspades]

But I feel it break With just one misstep down a fire escape And suddenly I'm someone that prays A last minute man of faith

[purplelupins]

In The Woods Somewhere

Chapter VII

Summery: In her 6th year, reader meets the charming Professor Lupin and their friendship begins. Reader is 16-17 at the beginning (nothing nsfw until reader is of age.) and for the story’s sake, Lupin stays as the DADA Professor into the Goblet of Fire.

Pairing: Professor Remus Lupin x fem!reader

Warnings: Some angst.

Note: This chapter is mostly from Severus and Remus’s POV. Also as mentioned, I am adding in some details that are accurate to the book. The mention of Harry’s firebolt broom is from the book.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Now allow the potion to simmer until it turns pink, not purple, PINK. Then add the Hellebore syrup until it becomes-“

“Becomes turquoise, I know Professor.” Y/n nodded, exasperated. Professor Snape was finally letting her brew her potion on her own but refused not to hover. She knew the process like the back of her hand now, and she did understand why he watched her every move; as a calming potion, it could very easily turn into a poison or could cause the drinker to be put to sleep permanently. But did he have to be RIGHT there?

Well, that was a part of it. The other part Snape kept to himself.

He simply refused to let anything happen to her.

While Severus claimed he never used his Legilimency on students or staff alike in Hogwarts, that was a lie.

It had only been a few times on y/n. He doubted her skill throughout the years as it was almost unheard of. She must have been cheating.

But alas he was only met with the girl recalling information, trying to stop herself from slapping one of her male classmates -which almost made him lose his composure- and the last thought he had found in her mind was her thinking of how thankful she was of him. How he was extra diligent with her, and how his guidance was the key to her doing well. She thought about how she wished her father was as focused on her and less on travel and work. It made her ache thinking that this mentor she had would only be in her life for another year after this. It was like she was losing someone dear to her.

The last thought did make him loose his composure. He had frozen one evening while she brewed her sleep potion and hadn’t spoken a word to her all night.

A mentor? It made him think.

And those thoughts ate away at him.

She was beyond intelligent and beautiful. She was bewitching. He found his thoughts turning to her often, wanting her to do well, to be safe, to challenge herself.

But he never thought of anything else. Not really. She was beautiful, yes. But the part of him that could feel anything deeper was so horrifically tattered and beaten that he knew it wouldn’t even be possible.

She was this enigma. She stuck with him.

It was infuriating.

It made him dizzy.

After a life of wishing he could have protected the people who treated him well. Wishing he was stronger. Wishing he didn’t let Lily go. Here came this little thorn in his side.

It had started in her second year. Lewis Gwaggle was attempting to argue Severus in a point of a potion -the insulent rat- and she completely told off Gwaggle after coming out of a daze with all the right answers. It had rendered the potions master speechless.

After that, Snape kept an eye on her. She grew into a brilliant witch. A spaced out one. But brilliant.

Now, in her second to last year, she had matured greatly. She grew into a stellar young woman. Her eyes made Severus’s chest tight, they held so much kindness and compassion. It was too much. Too much like her.

It wasn’t until after he found her in the woods that night that he realized the lengths he would go to protect her.

It terrified him.

-

It terrified him.

Knowing she wouldn’t seem him as more than her kind professor.

It shouldn’t terrify him. He should be completely fine with the fact. He knew she was going to have a wonderful future and that he was happy to help her along the way.

They cared about one another, but only as a a shoreline cares about the stones or sand it washes upon. At least that was what he told himself. He knew she blushed with him close but so did many ladies. He let it go to his head sometimes, but he needed to be rational and realistic.

It had almost been a year of him knowing her, and it had been one of the hardest years of his life. Remus was so proud of y/n, how she had grown. Her skill set was remarkable, as was her beauty.

Heaven help me.

He watched her carefully, not wanting her to overwhelm herself. He adored that crease that would form between her brows when she couldn’t understand something. It meant he got to speak to her, breathe her air.

It made his head spin.

It was frightening.

Y/n was this incredible creature.

She was something he hadn’t seen before.

And how did she see him? Professor Lupin. Old professor Lupin.

The lycan that almost killed her.

The man who almost loved her.

It wasn’t until after the incident in the woods that made him see how precious she was to him. In that hospital bed with the wounds he caused, a gnawing pain would grow in his chest.

A monster is what he was.

The last thought made him want to leave Hogwarts in the middle of the night and never look back. He wanted to protect her at all costs but as soon as she learns what he is…he knew she would look at him differently.

That shy affection she gave him would be gone. She may try to help him, she may not be afraid of him like she claimed but he could barely imagine her gaze without the warmth.

He sat in his office; tie hung loose around his neck, hair dishevelled, tea unfinished and eyes trying to focus on the papers infront of him. The Marauders map sat just a few inches away from him.

Check where she is.

What if she’s outside your door?

What if she’s with a boy?

The last thought sobered him.

He unfolded the parchment, “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.” He whispered. He almost cringed while he said it. It was very true.

He let his eyes search the map for a few moments, almost panicking when he couldn’t find her. Then his heart dropped into his stomach and his grip tightened on the map.

She was in the dungeon. The potions laboratory.

With Severus Snape.

They were right next to each other.

He lifted his gaze from the paper and stared at nothing.

They…?

No.

No no no no no.

Before he could stop himself, he was outside his classroom and marching down to the dungeons.

And what are you going to say? Oh I was spying on you with a secret map my mates and I made back when we were students and I thought you and Professor Snape were acting suspicious? Or better yet, “Good evening Professor, I’m here for my wolfsbane.”

He began to slow his steps as he made his way down to the dungeons.

What was he doing?

Then he heard her.

“Begins to turn turquoise, I know professor.” She sounded…lighthearted. Like she was talking to a friend. Lupin stood there just a few steps from the door.

“And how would you like it if it turned red?” Professor Snape sneered.

“Well if it turned red, sir, a toxic fume would emit from the cauldron and kill us.” She laughed, “Professor Snape, I promise I know what I’m doing. You’ve taught me very well. Trust me.”

Silence.

Lupin heard foorsteps then a chair scratch against the floor.

How odd.

Remus crept to the door- it was open a crack. He peered in; y/l was standing in front of a small cauldron, it was producing pink smoke. She looked tired- it was well past the end of dinner. Her hair was a bit messy and she had removed her tie. Her sleeves were rolled up too.

His breath caught in his throat. In the dim light of the room, her scars looked like tiny silver cracks in her skin, like marble.

Merlin…

Remus straightened his back, knocked on the door, and pushed it open. Feigning surprise he spoke, “Oh I apologize, Professor Snape I hope this isn’t a bad time?” He tucked his hands into his trousers to hide his clenching fists.

Snape snapped his head up and gave Lupin a stern glare. How dare he intrude. He glanced over to y/n, her lips parted slightly and her cheeks flushed. She almost dropped her staring spoon. She was unsettled.

Curious, he entered her mind and what he saw made him freeze.

She was…she cared deeply for the lycan. She practically thought he hung the stars.

Him? The LYCAN?

Y/n felt her heart rate excelerate. Her heart begged to burst. Anything to alleviate some pressure.

“Lupin. You’re already here, aren’t you?” Came the potions master.

“Professor Lupin?” Y/n’s eyes were glued to the DADA professor.

“Y/n what a pleasant surprise to see you here.” Lupin began making his way into the room, approaching the young witch who was desperately fighting with herself to keep an eye on the potion before her rather than the man before her.

He spoke so softly to her.

His dishevelled state put y/n into a trance.

Snape looked between the two, having left her mind a moment ago.

Then it clicked.

Her Amortentia potion. It was him.

“Professor Snape I do apologize but I was wondering if you have time to finish that project I asked you about?” Professor Lupin came to stand in front of the portions master, and cocked his head to the side.

It was a week before the full moon and he had to start taking his wolfsbane now for the full effect. Lupin knew Snape would bring it later into the night but it was the only excuse he had to be there.

“It’s not ready, Lupin. Another hour.” Snape shot back, venom in his voice.

This creature was going to hurt her.

Again.

“Why don’t you run along back to your tower and enjoy the moonlight, professor. It’s almost a full moon, I believe.” Get out.

Lupin plastered a humourless grin on his face.

You git.

“Indeed. It must be beautiful tonight.” Remus retorted; he turned to y/n and she desperately tried to focus.

“Some extra credit, miss y/n?” He asked playfully.

Snape was just about ready to burst. He attempted to enter the Lupin’s mind to see just what he thought he was doing.

Remus felt a twinge in his head.

Severus are we playing this game?

He turned to the potions master and shot him a wink and thrust him out of his head. Snape scowled.

“This is actually the reason I’ve been able to focus in class, sir. Professor Snape has been kind enough to help me learn how to make a sleeping tonic of sorts. It targets my episodes specifically at night but it seems to help during the day too.” She managed.

Her heart was beating so fast. Lupin grinned internally.

Sweet thing.

“Well done. I’m sure you’ll be an expert.” He smiled at her. While y/n was completely flustered, she was trying to think of what that project was that Lupin mentioned to Snape.

What on earth would they be doing?

Y/n added extra porcupine quills to the orange potion until it turned turquoise once more. Now she had to wait until it turned purple.

“Thank you sir, but they don’t call Professor Snape the potions master for nothing.” She turned to the man in question, he was trying to keep busy with marking the essays in-front of him.

Lupin nodded and turned to Snape.

“Well then, I suppose I’ll leave you two to it then. Don’t be up too long, miss y/n. No more kitchen visits.” He said cheekily.

Y/n snorted. He still remembered that.

“I promise sir.”

“Right. Goodnight professor, y/n. “He gave a half bow and began to walk out. Once at the door, he stole one last look at y/n, she looked up from her cauldron.

“Goodnight, Professor Lupin.” She called.

And with one more grin, he disappeared. All the way back to his quarters, he worked out the cramps in his hand from clenching it.

Y/n seemed comfortable there. Almost like she was used to the company of Snape. Lupin sighed. He knew his visit from the potions master later would be far from pleasant.

And he was right.

Not an hour later, the door to his classroom burst open as he sipped at a fresh cup of tea, map tucked away.

“Lupin.” His name echoed into his quarters before the professor got there.

Snape billowed into the doorway, not bothering to knock. “If you think for one minute that you will ever be near miss y/n alone again, you are mistaken. The headmaster has been more than forthcoming with you but I will expose you. Do. Not. Push. Me.” He seethed.

Lupin stared at the man from over the brim of his cup.

“I don’t know what you mean, Severus.” He stated. It was honestly true. They both knew he had attacked her but it seemed a bit late to bring that up. Almost a year late.

“Do. Not. Patronize. Me. Lupin.” Severus spat, “You know exactly what I speak of.”

“I assure you I don’t.” He put the cup down, tea spoiled at this point.

“I saw what was in y/n’s mind, I know that you are attempting to penetrate her life. She does not know what you are. You will stay away from her if you know what is good for you, lycan.”

“And what right do you have over miss l/n’s choices?” He calmly shot back. He was more interested in Snape being so worked up than the actual matter at hand.

Was he…? No.

“Professor, are you infatuated with miss l/n?” Remus stared deep into his black eyes. The room went cold.

“How dare-“

“Answer me.”

“That girl is not someone to be infatuated with-“

“Severus don’t be a fool, answer me-“

“Answer you sir? Answer me! What are you doing with that girl-“

“Do not turn this around on me Severus.” Remus was just about on his last leg of being civil.

“Tell me what are you-“

“No, you answer my question by Merlin! Are you infatuated with-“

“NO. BUT SHE IS WITH YOU, YOU ANIMAL AND I WILL NOT STAND BY AND WATCH YOU CAUSE HER ANY PAIN.”

The walls almost quaked.

Remus froze.

The potions master’s face was twisted in a demonic rage. Lupin swore he would transform into a beast like him any moment.

“Severus…what did you-“

“You damn well heard me.” He bit. Snape slammed seven viles of Wolfsbane on Lupin’s desks and stormed out.

It felt like the air had been stolen from the room.

That night, save for retrieving a vile to drink, Lupin sat awake in his office, staring into the dying fire by his bed.

His thoughts were a mess.

He so desperately wanted to confront y/n.

To hear it from her.

But he could never do that.

Oh how he wanted to hear those words.

But even so, it pained him to think that she may hold feelings for him, he was not one to be loved. He lived a difficult and complicated life. No one wanted a werewolf in their family, or in their workplace, let alone their life.

He fought with himself all night until he was numb.

A light rain pattered on Lupin’s window.

How fitting.

The sun rose in the wee hours, and he stretched his aching muscles. His eyes were sore. He still wore the same clothes from the day before.

Pull yourself together, Remus.

-

Professor Lupin sat at the breakfast table, nursing a cup of coffee. His second to be exact. He wore the face of a man conflicted.

As the students poured in and the owls began their deliveries, he found himself gazing out onto their faces. These students were the future. The future soldiers, future educators, future Aurors, future families. His chest grew tight.

Remus became aware that Minerva was attempting to have a conversation with him. Apparently Harry had received a Firebolt broomstick over the holidays a few months ago and they were testing for involvement with Sirius. He ached at the thought of his old friend, but he couldn’t help but barely hear her.

Then a laugh rang out in the hall. Even over the noise, Lupin heard it.

Merlin help me.

Y/n sat among a handful of students he recognized. A large smile stretched across her face. Time stood still for Remus Lupin.

Everything stopped.

He knew she was going to be his downfall somehow.

Today.

In a week.

In a month.

In a year.

In a decade.

She would be his undoing.

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Tag list:

@dogmatic255

@anordinarymuse

@kissmeunicornbaobei

@piinkcherries

@justa-traaash

@simonsbluee

[sunjaesol]

because your kiss is on my list

alternatively: four times juke snuck up on each other for affection and the one time they didn’t have to | based on the achingly beautiful fanart by @lovelyrugbee

1. 

Luke was being manic again. And not in a cute: “Oh my God, he’s so passionate about music!”-way, but in a: “He might actually tear his eyes out from these infuriating lyrics that aren’t working”-way. Every once in a while, songs didn’t flow out as easily as they usually did. The topic was a bit trickier, or the instrumentals didn’t mesh, or something was just off. Julie wasn’t too stressed about it. They had plenty of time to rework and fix things before the gig in two weeks. 

Unfortunately, Luke didn’t have the same mindset. 

He has been holed up in the studio all day, cramped on the windowsill to the point of submitting himself to a hernia and scrapping writing scrapping scrapping scrapping. The sound was infuriating, Alex being the first to poof out and Reggie following soon after when Ray became far more interesting than a guitarist going haywire. Which was sad, cause her dad was just unloading groceries. 

Alright. She had to do something. Standing at the doors of studio with a somewhat amused expression, she took in as her boyfriend was oblivious to the world and her. In any other situation, he’d notice and compliment the orange dress she was wearing. She thought about calling his name, maybe singing or jamming her fingers on the piano, but then a better idea came. A fun one.

Quietly slipping closer, a mischievous grin crawled on her lips. Thank God she was barefoot, or else her sneakers would’ve squeaked against the cement floors. He still hasn’t noticed her, the pinch between his brow so deep and lost in thought. 

Three, two, one... 

“Ah!”, she cried out like a warrior, snapping her arms around him from behind and snatching the damned songbook from his grasp. Before he could react, she smacked a wet kiss on his cheek and added a “Mwah!” for good measure. 

The startled Luke began chuckling, trying to get his book back, her peppering more kisses on his cheek in retaliation. He had to get out of this funk! Breathe a little! Turning his cheek to look at her, he smirked. “Sneaking kisses now, Jules?”

Julie hummed against his skin, eyes sparkling. Whispering in his ear, she said: “Stop breaking your head over these lyrics and relax. We have time.” 

His smile softened, gaze tracking the way she hugged him and then- “I like the dress you’re wearing.”

Ah, yes. There he was. 

2. 

Julie Molina truly made the afterlife less boring and a whole lot more bearable. Which became really apparent whenever she had an avalanche of homework and couldn’t hang out. Luke loved his boys, but damn did he miss his girlfriend a lot now. If the situation were different (you know, had he not been head over heels in love with her), he’d poof up to her room and annoy her until she came to the studio. Alas, he respected his girlfriend and her interest in getting good grades, so he had to deal with it. 

Bleh. “Dealing with it” was like a curse word to him. 

He hasn’t seen her all day though. She left early for school and didn’t pass by the studio when she got back. All he needed was a quick look and talk and maybe a hug and then he wouldn’t be so antsy. 

(What he’d give to wrestle her into cuddling right now. He was honestly blessed he found a girl who saw all of his need for affection and then gladly gave triple the amount.)

Yup. Screw homework. He had to see her. Without telling the boys, he stood up with a huff and poofed out. The offended “hey!” from Alex he ignored. 

Dropping into Julie’s room, a smile instantly bloomed on his face at the sight of her. She was on her bed, textbooks and notes splayed out in front of her while her curls danced with each breath she took. Even when tired, his girlfriend was pretty as hell. 

“Hey,” he grinned.

She didn’t look up and mumbled: “Hey.” A page turned. “What’re you doing here?”

Luke sat down on the edge of her bed, far enough so her pens wouldn’t roll away. “Haven’t seen you today. I missed you.”

This time she did look up, her weary eyes softening and smiling. “I missed you too. I have homework though, so...” The implication was there: please leave so I can finish. His hope for a hug quickly dwindled.

“Yeah,” he muttered, not ready to go back and get slapped by Alex. “Uh...” His eyes fell on her right hand, slightly more outstretched then the other. It just... laid there. Teasing him. Freaking tantalising him when he knew how good it felt whenever those fingers brushed his cheeks or raked his hair. 

It happened before he thought about it. Crawling onto the mattress, he snatched her hand and pressed soft kisses on the knuckles. Julie caught his gaze again, that smile he loved so much melting into an adoring puff - like she couldn’t believe this idiot was her boyfriend.

He didn’t mind being her idiot.  

3.

Sometimes, Julie was just that more adorable. Like now, with her hair spread around her shoulders and that small smile stuck on her lips and her eyes that seemed impossibly soft today. All for him, only for him. 

Sure, it was probably because they were working on one of their personal songs, but the fact remained that his girlfriend still left him rendered speechless months into dating.

“What if we try it in a lower key?”, Julie proposed, nodding at his guitar. 

The song in question was a song about them. It wasn’t so lovey-dovey that it would turn the guys off, but it was still blatant. Only they would write about ‘the sea glass green of his eyes’ and ‘the smile that put Mona Lisa to shame’. 

He did what she asked, her singing the same verse again. It held more depth now, soulful and lively. The rasp in her tone made it playful and egged him on to join, like it was truly banter between lovers put to music. It was them. It was her. It was-

Luke abruptly stopped playing, pushed his guitar aside and grabbed onto her. She hardly had time to chuckle as he pressed his lips onto her forehead and held her as tight as possible. Warmth filled his chest, that strange sensation of being loved and loving back twice as hard, as she clutched his body. He almost got choked up. Here he was, in the sundrenched studio with the girl he adored playing the music they created together and she was singing it in such a quintessentially ‘them’ way. No one but them would ever truly understand the magic they conjured. How it was only explained through grins melting on skin and the giddy skip in his heartbeat. 

“What’s that for?”, she smiled. 

His hand trailed from her back to her cheeks with an elated shrug. How could he explain to her her ‘Julie-ness’ was dialled up to two hundred without sounding insane? Caressing the skin, he murmured instead: “I guess you’re just irresistible today.”   

Her eyes squeezed shut at his words, like she was embarrassed how much delight it brought her, and pressed her face back in his shoulder. 

Letting that giddy skip in his chest kiss her again, he gently pulled away to sent her a wink. “Let’s finish ‘Wicked Love’, yeah?”

4.

“So, Flynn’s been thinking-”

“Mh-hm.”

“-about a new poster for the gig we’re playing. The old one is a little amateur and she made some new concepts. Wanna see?” Julie held her phone at his face, his hand leaving the strings of his guitar to gently push it back. Falling back on the bed, she frowned. 

“Maybe later, I’m figuring out this progression...” His back bend over his guitar again, only giving her a view of the black muscle tee. 

When Luke told her he wanted to hang out that Saturday afternoon, she had hoped it would be a bit more ‘Julie and Luke’ and not ‘Luke and His Guitar’ - alas, the girlfriend was competing with a piece of wood and some metal. While texting Flynn about graphic design was fun, it was time for Luke to start doing what he promised her.

Then again, she was a sucker for music talk. “Why don’t you try switching up the chords? Start with G instead of C.”

He tried it out, a grin crawling on his cheeks. “Yeah... yeah, that works. Thanks, Jules.”

“So?”, she sang. 

“Hm?”

With a sigh, she grabbed onto the strap of his guitar and gave it a tug. Luke’s neck rolled backwards in surprise, catching her playful smile.  

Chastely pecking his forehead, she said: “Your head is in the clouds.”

The teasing look of his matched hers. “You’re kissing my head right now.”

“Mh-hm,” she mumbled, loving the way his hair had that perpetual scent of apple and something inherently Luke. Kissing the locks, she added: “And you’ll be getting a lot more if you actually start hanging out with me.”

His book and instrument slid off his body just like that as he speared her into hug. Luke collapsed onto her body with the cutest grin and she knew she caught him. Their laughs chimed throughout the house for the rest of the day. 

+5.

Luke poofed onto her bed with a grin, his girlfriend automatically snuggling into his side and finding each other’s lips with ease. For a beat, they’re cherished the quiet passion shared between them. They didn’t need to do a lot to feel loved by the other. 

He pressed his nose into her curls. “How was school?”

“Good,” Julie whispered against his neck. “How was the studio?”

“Chill. Reggie scared a spider.”

She giggled, the sound making his grin widen and hide his face so she wouldn’t see how ridiculously giddy she made him. Turning her head so she’d see him anyway, her nose scrunched. “I know you’re smiling.”

“That’s my line, Molina,” he huffed, the teasing glint shimmering in his eyes. 

A signature brow quirked. “You got that on paper?”

He didn’t miss a second. “I love you.” He didn’t need to ponder or linger or rewrite or scrap or workshop the thought. It wasn’t even a thought. It was a truth and he’d repeat that truth over and over again until the universe knew it too and kept it in their books for centuries to come. He loved her, he loved her, he loved her. 

The smile that came was worth the truth, how her love for him broke through without a moment of hesitation. Now she’d say the same, over and over and over again, so the universe knew they were talking about each other and would always keep their names together in said books. 

Julie kissed him again, long and sweet and as easy as breathing. Her utters were barely audible, but his heart caught it. “I love you too.”

Locked in their embrace, they shared earphones listening to their favourite music until they fell asleep. (How Luke could fall asleep, but only when in her loving touch, he wouldn’t question. Some oddities of the universe were best unsaid.) 

@blush-and-books @unsaid-emily @bluefirewrites @willexx @ourstarscollided @alexjulies

[mirahuyooo]

Set The Night Alight | pjm

Set The Night Alight

— Shining through the city with a little funk and soul, Park Jimin sets your night alight.

Word Count: 2,159 Contents: flUFF, a pinch of AnGST, having fun, y/n be stressin’ but still hustlin’, jimin be sweet af uwu, mention of Hobi, Yoongs, n Kookie, non-idol au, best friends to lovers! au Pairing: Park Jimin x Reader

A/N: I planned on posting earlier but uhm... I didn’t eheh This one is heavily inspired by Dynamite! My sister got a great screenshot of Jimin so I made used it for an edit and write this little blurb skskksksks Hope you enjoyed!

[masterlist]

A grimace resurfaced on your face for the umpteenth time as you swerve away from yet another couple eating each other’s face before your very eyes. A frustrated huff left your lips at the inconvenience adding to the ever-growing misfortune you’ve had for the night. Just to your left earlier you had witnessed a crummy-looking drunk getting slapped by a woman for grinding on another girl.

You fled to a less distasteful area of the club, all by your lonesome. This has got to be the worst night out you’ve ever been to—and at the worst day of your life to date, too!

After waking up with nerves raging over test results in anticipation, you forced yourself to be ignorant of the looming sense of disaster you’ve felt since the night before. You wanted to start the day with a positive mental attitude—try to, at the very least. However, you were further tested.

When you arrived late to class after missing the bus, the professor looked at you with a disappointed stare that could rival that of your overbearing parents’. It was then announced to the class the news that you’ve been waiting for since you woke up. As it had turned out, you did fail the test. You didn’t cry, of course—even though part of you wanted to—but it definitely took a toll on you.  

For the rest of the day, anyone who would’ve laid eyes on you could sense the despair lingering in your aura. Your body sagged at the figurative weight you carried on you, as though you were Atlas holding the world on your very back. Your (e/c) eyes blinked as slowly as you responded to the world around you—your mind stuck in a haze that dipped your heart into more emotional baggage.  

Work came after class, as you, of course, had to support yourself for the goals and dreams you had in life. Alas, even the haven you found in the small diner was short-lived. Your ex-boyfriend enters the premises with his monthly new plaything, effectively souring your mood even more. Being the bastard that he is, he reveled at the contrast of your lives and though you didn’t bother to care about aspects, his general presence still irked you.  

“I thought I told you to get rid of that frown, hm?”

Pulled out of your stupor, you lightly jumped with a gasp as you were rendered startled and alarmed by the unannounced presence, until you realized that it was only Park Jimin—resident wild child, fellow diner worker, and best friend of six years. He had the audacity to giggle at your despair, while you recover from the slight scare with a hint of relief.

Your eyebrows furrowed with yet another frown. "I thought I told not to sneak up on me like that, hm?" You snippily countered, landing a smack on his arm to which he let out a yelp at.  

Still, Jimin grins brightly, a little woozy and clearly enjoying himself—a stark contrast to your still sober and still fuming state. He had two glasses of soju with him, setting them down before the two of you and leaning against the tall table on his elbows. "Come on, (Y/N). The night is young. We're young," he urges you, "You should really learn to loosen up."

If you had a dollar for every single time he's told you this phrase, you would have enough money to not be such a sour puss. It's not like you didn't have conception of fun. You, too, can be wild, go party, and dance the night away—albeit not as stunningly as your best friend—but with the fire in you that you're desperately trying to keep alive to spite the world, you found it difficult to easily do so.

Agitated, you ran your hands through the (h/c) hair that you've barely even brushed throughout the day. "A man almost vomited on me while I was out there," you cursed, not really at him, but it still stung nonetheless. You bring the bottle to your lips, wincing a bit at the taste but still gulping. Jimin does the same.

After a moment, you break the silence, fiddling with your fingers. You knew the irritable state you were in wasn’t easy on Jimin—or anyone else really. "I'm sorry, Chim," you sigh, "but you know I really can't be in the mood right now. We should’ve stuck with binging night."

Something about standing in the local pub right now made you feel out of place. Though you know you shouldn't be, you were irking to get going and do something else—something productive. Not that you would’ve been that productive with binging night, but at the very least you would’ve caught up on your current favorite series. Then, you would’ve had more time to do actual fruitful activities.  

You paused for a moment, frowning at your own way of thinking.

For the majority of your life, all you did was hustle. You were uptight, determined with proving yourself and the rest of those who've wronged you that you could be the thriving woman of your dreams, living the life goals you're working ends meat to achieve. The fire in you longed to see the people who abandoned you on their knees, kissing your feet at your success. And so, you move on after moping a little—this day will be yet another testament to such a fighting spirit.

At times you applauded your resilience. You were proud of the things you've managed to move yourself on from. Alas, this meant that you often starve yourself of care and leisure. Jimin knows this brilliant yet damning mindset of yours and constantly tries to ease you into the carefree lands of self-love.

When Jimin had offered you this night out after your shifts, you instantly rejected the offer, like you almost always do. He didn't like the way you held back on having fun, because you thought your mother would find out and her accusations of you going astray in life would spark into yet another rant of you wAsTinG yoUr PotEntiAL.

He does convince you somehow, thus this current situation. You were, however, beginning to regret going out instead of your tradition of breaking down in the confines of your apartment before switching yourself into an auto pilot mode where you work on projects and whatnot for God knows how long.

Your best friend, however, would never want you to feel such a way, especially if he could do something about it. He clapped his hands together. "Come on then," Jimin encourages, catching you off guard as he secured a hold on you by lacing your fingers together.

"What?"

The man before you downs a few swigs of the alcohol and smiles, eyes disappearing into crescents. "Let's go somewhere else," he tells you, matter-of-factly. "The night is young. There are lots of things to do."

You gawked at the sight before you as Jimin danced to the beat, his body moving effortlessly with the street dancer. Instinctively, you, yourself, were swaying to the beat. The crowd that had gathered around you had done the same.

Exiting the club, as it turned out, had been a notable move from the both of you, drastically mending your mood as your night was suddenly set alight by the bustling streets you wandered with your favorite person in the world. This predicament, however, landed before the two of you when you saw a performance going on. Jimin knew the performer—Hoseok, if you recalled correctly—and, in spite of not preparing beforehand, began dancing along to the music. He was doing brilliantly for someone who, about thirty minutes ago, was giggly from slight intoxication.

As the beat came to a drop and Jimin flips his body like it was nothing, cheers erupted from around you. Vigorously clapping along with the crowd, you couldn't care less if your cheeks were starting to hurt.

"Great work!" You beam at your best friend as he shyly walks back towards you with yet another charming grin that wills his eyes to close. "You've improved so much," you say, eliciting a blush from him. Both of you have aching cheeks now, but that didn't matter.

As the crowd began to disperse and he waved goodbye to his friend, Jimin offers an arm to you. “Let’s go?” he muses, still slightly out of breath.

“Go where?” you asked, but linking your arms together anyways.

Jimin says nothing, seemingly pleased with his plans. Butterflies ran amok within you, as his smile promises you more of these spontaneous adventures.  

As the night bled into later hours, the both of you sat in the very diner that you two worked at only hours earlier. Jungkook, who had gotten night shift this day, disappeared into the kitchen after getting your orders.

Feeling better than ever before, you allowed yourself to savor the serenity. Your hands drummed to the beat of the music flowing from the jukebox resting on one corner of the diner with your head swaying along too. Jimin, in front of you, was also lightly dancing in his seat.

Eventually, Jimin stands up to his feet, dancing as he reached out a hand. He comically wiggled his brows, inviting you to dance with him—and you let him.

There were no other customers in the diner, and Yoongi, who had manned the cashier, didn’t really care to be bothered about the shenanigans the two of you were up to. You let out a giggle as Jimin twirls you around.  

At this time, you took it to yourself to look at your best friend. As he often does, he had styled his brown hair back to expose his forehead, causing him to look attractive enough to fool anyone into thinking he's a reckless party animal when reality states that he's a soft gentleman at heart—and you support such a statement.

Park Jimin, with his massive golden heart, has stuck by your side far longer than anyone else in your life. In all of the years you’ve known him, he’s always been one to drop anything to help you with your plights. A sensation fluttered within you, rendering you frozen for a moment as you were confused by said feeling. Jimin, however, continues to goofily dance around you without a care in the world and elicits a snicker from you.

There was a whimsical sense in the air. Dynamite’s retro décor really had the ability to make you feel as though you had travelled back a few decades earlier. With Jimin’s own choice of outfit, the nostalgic effect multiplied tenfold. Could the butterflies in your belly be from the atmosphere of the moment?

“You look beautiful when you’re happy, y’know?”

Jimin’s words knock the air out of your lungs, sending you crashing back to reality. Before you, your best friend stood only a few inches away from your dancing dooming you into such a close position. Your heart once again picks up the pace.

You managed to let out a scoff but fail to counter his statement any further and simply shyly averted your gaze, leaning away to give the two of you some distance. To your shock, Jimin’s hands clutched yours in his hold, his eyes shining like diamonds as he stared into you.

“Chim—”

With the words you planned to say being stolen from you by the lips that captured yours, you couldn’t help but melt. As if on cue, the music’s beat picked up, encouraging your heartbeat to do the same. The emotions within you whirled wildly, setting your body on fire as Jimin pulls you closer. As you had felt his hold loosen, you took the chance to slide your hands up his shoulders and wrapped your arms around his neck, letting yourself get lost into a kiss you never thought to anticipate so much.

Eventually, the two of you pulled away for air, with Jimin grinning like the love-struck fool he was, while you were still in a haze from the kiss. You felt lips on your forehead as he soon pulled you in an embrace.

“(Y/N)?”

Your heart squealed at his voice, prompting you to hug him back tighter. “Hm?”

“I like you.”

With your head buried into his neck, your eyes fluttered to a close as his words bloom an ease in your heart—as if you had reached home after a long exhausting journey. There still existed a sense of surprise in you. You never expected to feel this way towards your best friend.  

Jimin, in spite of his worries from your silence, proceeds to murmur into your hair. “I want you to be happy,” he tells you, “I’d be happy if you let me be the one to make you smile.”

You pull away with a soft smile, eyes glistening with tears.

“You already are.”

[tiaragqueen]

Ferae Naturae

✂ Pairing: Yandere! Bakeneko! Sakuya x Reader

✂ Word Count: 1,4k+

✂ Trigger Warnings: Death, arson, possessiveness, implied abuse

[Edited]

***

If you like my writing, please support me on ko-fi!

A longer version of my old story, Get Even, with a lot few tweaks here and there. And I finally got to use my favorite word here. I present to you my favorite darling, Sakuya! Above is his human form.

“I promise you're safe with me. You're not alone. You're safe with me. Your heart is home. Now and forever, I'll be your shelter.” - Safe With Me [Megan Nicole]

Sakuya never really understood why most humans always stayed or returned to the person who had hurt them, even when the said person had blatantly displayed no sign of repentance. Irrefutable matters such as consanguinity must’ve played a huge factor in their so-called ‘loyalty’, he supposed, but it still didn’t justify their self-destructive actions. The way they behaved as though nothing was wrong and deliberately allowed their pain to fester under a veneer of tolerance was exasperating and absurd at best, even for him who tended to observe from the distance.

Then again, Sakuya wasn’t born in a human family, anyway. There was only so much he could learn from their lives without actually experiencing them.

But he knew enough to know that hitting his owner was an unforgivable sin; one that deserved an equal punishment.

“You never do anything right!”

A sturdy man, whom Sakuya learned his name was Araki, shouted. He had been doing this ever since he came home and found that you hadn’t cooked dinner because you were exhausted from cleaning the house all day. Granted, it was a humble cabin in the middle of a forest, but for someone to clean all the nooks and crannies while doing other tasks proved to be taxing. Sakuya knew it, too, because he’d seen just how tirelessly you worked every day with little rest and appreciation. All you’d gotten was more and more complaints from that bastard of a husband, sometimes elevating to verbal abuse. Sakuya wondered why and how you bore such an attitude for a long time and stuck with him when you could have someone better.

If it were him, he’d surely leave without a second thought. Better yet, kill him.

But, alas, you were too meek. Under the pretense of loyalty, you accepted everything from him – every word, every beating, every overt manipulation – and toiled even harder. However, Sakuya wasn’t a fool. He was fully aware of your insecurities and fears; of being incompetent, of being abandoned, of being lonely. Although you already had him, a cat that had been spending time with you more than your own husband, you remained hopelessly in love with the latter.

And, honestly, Sakuya couldn’t fault you. It wasn’t easy to separate a wife from her husband due to the finality of marriage, and the only way would be death.

Would it be worth the effort, though? It wasn’t as if you were blind to Araki's vices, anyway. Rather, you accepted them wholeheartedly and believed he’d change someday despite the lack of progress. You loved and married him, knowing full well you’d plunge yourself into a turbulent life. Heck, you’d even confessed it to Sakuya! You weren’t naïve and acknowledged that your love story was far from perfect or even good.

You comprehended the result of marrying such a rough man, which meant, you also comprehended his treatment towards you.

However, wrath defenestrated every understanding and sense the moment Araki raised a hand to slap you. Normally, Sakuya wouldn’t bother much with domestic violence because he wasn’t attached to either of them. But you were his owner – no, belonging – and he protected what was his, regardless of the consequences.

Sakuya hissed and leaped to Araki’s face, swiping the delicate skin ferociously. He didn’t even use his real claws, but the current ones were enough to provoke a stream of curses and groans from Araki.

Your eyes swelled, torn between intervening and doing nothing. Should you help him? You didn’t want to get scratched too, but your cat was clearly and purposefully harming him for unknown reasons. Maru usually left whenever an argument arose and returned when Araki had exited the room. It’d become such a pattern until you believed that he’d recognized human quarrel and learned to avoid it to maintain his peace.

Cats weren’t entirely stupid, after all. Although his constant, almost acrid, glare towards Araki was a little strange, to begin with.

Finally, Araki was able to yank Sakuya from his bleeding visage and flung him against the wall. You gasped and rushed to his aid, examining his tiny body for any sign of grievous injuries. Araki was enraged with the way you prioritized him than your husband who clearly displayed raw gashes, and grabbed you by the collar of your kimono.

“Oh, so you care about that dumb cat more than me, huh?” he snarled through ground teeth, his glower intensified when you shook your head frantically. “What? You’re in love with it or something? Well, why don’t you live with it then?”

Araki seized Sakuya by the scruff of his neck and dragged you both to the porch. “This is where disobedient wife sleeps!” he declared, dropping Sakuya on to your lap carelessly. “Hope you enjoy your stay.”

You watched his retreating back helplessly and flinched when he slammed the door shut. Pursing your trembling lips, you looked down and caressed Sakuya’s dark fur as a poor attempt of solace.

“It’s alright, now. You’re safe,” you whispered, trying to ignore the slight quiver within your voice. “He’ll be in a better mood tomorrow, and then we can go back inside. We just have to endure sleeping here for tonight.”

‘He’ll be in a better mood tomorrow’. Did that mean he’d locked you out before? Did that mean he’d slapped you before? Sakuya had only met you around a month ago, but it was enough to show him everything he needed to know regarding your daily life.

And with this new information, came another surge of fury strong enough to shapeshifted him into a human.

You could only gape at the sight of his dainty body burst to reveal a leaner, paler one underneath. His hair remained its raven sheen, but the cat ears were probably the sole thing to pinpoint his genuine form. Had the latter weren’t present, you would’ve thought this was his true appearance instead. His eyes were yellow with black slits, smoldering under the tranquil moonlight. He had a boyish face, but his aura suggested otherworldliness and ancient. You averted your gaze from traveling lower, noticing the lack of… fur to cover his private area.

“Are you… my cat?” Would it be foolish of you to ask that? No. That was just natural, wasn’t it? It wasn’t as though you knew what else to say after witnessing what would be a staggering transformation in your whole life.

“Duh,” he retorted. “I’m human. Can you see?”

Yes, you could recognize it perfectly; every detail, except his ears and irises, that just screamed a human throughout. And you didn’t know how to respond to his quip or react.

Then, you spotted it. A large tail, flicking behind him and left a trail of flame in the air. A cat’s tail. How you didn’t notice it before, especially with its substantial size, was beyond your perception.

“Maru, why are there fire on your tail?” you asked shakily.

“I wonder…” he drawled lazily, much to your chagrin. There was a spark of panic that ignited within you when the tail shot up and flared in the sky. “Oh, the name’s Sakuya, by the way.”

His name breezed past your ears at the same speed of his tail that swept your house. The fire kindled your dilated eyes and parched your throat from screaming or uttering anything. You listened to the frenzied screams of your husband and the constant tugging at the front door. The desperation wrenched your heart, but there was nothing you could do than standing and let the blaze engulfed the cabin you once called ‘home’.

You just realized how powerful Maru, no, Sakuya was. Even his grasp on your arms and flinty stare rendered you immobile throughout the arson.

Once the smoke cleared up and exposed the soot and chars littering the ground, you wilted against his grip. Sakuya instinctively kneeled to free your body from its invisible pressure and hugged you, whispering sweet nothings. You stared blankly at the debris despite his solace to break your composure, the shock hindered you from processing the situation properly. It wasn’t long before you broke down, however, and wailed on his shoulder.

“It’s alright, now. You’re safe.” Sakuya mimicked the words you’d spoken to comfort him earlier. It was excruciating to remember how fast the tables had turned, and how your lovely pet soon became your killer.

Sakuya buried his face on your shoulder and smiled, relishing the proximity now that the bastard was no longer exist to separate you both.

Because that was how it should be the moment he encountered you in that riverside; a diligent yet fatigued woman who kept washing the clothes despite the setting sun.

“… I’m here now, [Name], and I’ll always be.”

Sakuya: 昨夜

Araki: 荒木

Maru: まる

[gwoongi]

(draft) 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗈𝗉𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 ⎈ jimin

𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗈𝗉𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 park jimin / reader genre: siren au words: 3k

From an early age, he always loved the sea.

a/n: i decided to upload all of my abandoned works, to not only honour the hours i spent writing them but also to show how much i’ve improved. dug out this gem, definitely either a threecyphers or cosykims piece.

warnings: none apply.

*note: this is an UNFINISHED WORK that has been abandoned and therefore will not be completed in the future :3

From an early age, he always loved the sea.

At the age of three, during his first visit to the pebbled banks of a beach in a country he knew not of, he gazed with love at the way the tasteless brown waves cascaded and overturned upon milky coloured sands, a trickle of curious water leaking up into some child’s messy, damp and falling apart sandcastle. 

He loved the smell of the salt and the toe curling feeling of seaweed brushing against his toes as the waves aborted back to the deep end. He loved the sound of the gulls singing from the cliffs encircling the small, rocky cove and the lethargic noise of the waves rolling up onto the shores, and then pulling back as if allergic with an almost rewind-effect noise. And oh, how he loved the sea- the peaceful and distracting colours of muddy brown or navy blue depending on where he stood to gaze, and the curious image of the water spreading for miles upon miles for the wind and the sun to explore, no space or time for human feet to search.

At the age of seven, his mother took him to the beach on what seemed like a surprising dull afternoon, when the waves were violent and the skies were a slate colour. Jimin had stared at his mother with a perplexed expression, questioning her motives on dragging him away from his toys to stare at such a depressing sight- no children to run across the Busan sands, no umbrellas to shade them from the sun’s smile. Instead, he stared questioningly away from his mother and at the ocean itself, remembering its meaning to him and henceforth, a smile appears upon his lips, welcoming the spits of rain as he charges towards the ocean front. He let the smell of the ocean soak into his skin, the wind mess up his hair, the vengeful sound of the waves crashing like the symbols at his school’s band productions. Perhaps Park Jimin enjoys windy beach days over sunny beach ones?

At the age of eleven, he was taking trips to the beach alone with only his bike as a friend. His bike, the sea and his lunchbox.

And then, at the age of sixteen, he stopped visiting the sea. 

He isn’t sure why.

However, times changed and the seas churned until Park Jimin was nineteen, in University, with the stress hanging like heavy sacks of flour from his eyelids. Destress, Park Jimin, his brain seemed to scream at an hour of 7am, his classmates rolling out of their covers for morning lectures and half of him laughs, almost mockingly, because his classes were seemingly cancelled. Destress, and take some time off.

And so he goes to see the sea, and despite not visiting for years upon years, it almost looks the same. It’s the same sea, the same pebbles, the same dull, grey sky. Alas, he is home.

Short of breath, Jimin stands with his toes enveloped in the water, his eyes soaking up the sight of the ocean before him once more. The ripples of waves, the bubbles from fish, the fins of creatures poking up above the surface of the ocean- it all feels so nostalgic to him. A thalassophile, his grandfather had named him once from the porch of his cottage, the sandy dunes grazing upon his knees that fine evening. He always remembered the word, the meaning behind it, and how much it applied to him.

A thalassophile he is, a thalassophile he will always be.

Jimin spends the morning strolling across the length of the beach, his shoes in one hand and his hair blowing annoyingly into his eyes as he walked. His feet took him to the harbour, the pier reaching out into the ocean and underneath, a secret line of pebbles leading to the other side of the beach, towards the hidden coves he used to visit with his mother when he was just a boy. Naturally, as if remembering the memory, Jimin steps underneath the pier to walk slowly past the washed up driftwood and lazy crabs snapping their claws as he hurried by. The damp smell of old wood fills his nostrils as he walks, a sentimental smell,  that carries with him all the way until he reaches the cove. It’s just a pool of aegean blue water, swirling in the center very slowly with an ethereal glow from beneath the tide. Jimin walks slowly towards the space he always used to sit, now stolen by the sea leaving only a small space of pebbles and seashells for him to sit. He does, anyway, having missed the serene location too much to pick himself up and turn away.

The landscape was beautiful, rendering him speechless as the sun glimmered upon the waters surface, a shine mesmerising like the stars on a clear night sky. A shallow sigh leaves Jimin’s lips and his lids flutter to a close, letting the silence and the sun consume him entirely.

When his eyes close, he misses it. He misses the ripple of water crash against a boulder standing lonely in the far right of the pool; he misses the dark-grey fin slap against the rock and he even misses the strand of fiery coloured hair swim in the water. Yet when his eyes do open he sees nothing but the same as before.

But something is different; the waves aren’t moving anymore and the gulls avoid flying over the circular ceiling of the cove. The water looks darker and more pigmented with ebony hues, and- why is it suddenly so cold?

As if drawn to it, his eyes travel from the pebbles beneath his feet to the water, and he almost- almost- misses it this time. But he doesn’t, and he rises in what feels like horror- no, shock- no, admiration- as he spots a fin cut through the waves like a blade in butter. The sharp cuts smash against the rocks, towards the pebbles surrounding his shoes, like a whip in the west, the sound is so sharp. Jimin stands with his mouth hanging agape when he notices the fin attached to a tail...attached to a person.

A person, he thinks. A person.

The boy watches in curiosity as the red spirals of hair glide under the water as the person rises from the waves, shyly peering her head over one of the boulders alone in the pool. Something in him churns at the sight of her, even more when she pushes herself up on two palms to lift her body up onto the boulder, staring over at him without a wavering look. Jimin can’t help but notice- for there’s not much else he can be looking at, here- that she wears nothing on her top half, only a bare chest that he can’t help but gaze at. Her hair, actually, stops at her shoulders, cascading down like a waterfall to her shoulder blades behind her. And, almost mockingly, she spies on him with a wondering eye, innocence bleeding from her lips as she cocks her head to the side observing. He almost wants to do the same, although he is frozen in complete awe. Had he ever seen something so beautiful in his entire life?

Despite knowing nothing of her, he is mesmerised. From the way her lips are so voluptuous and blue, to the way her skin shines three dimensionally like a prism, even right down to the way her breasts curve so perkily, so round and smooth looking from where Jimin is standing from the other side of the cove. Jimin is rendered speechless, so much that he barely registers the fact that he is staring at an empty space. She disappears back under the water as quickly as she had surface, and something similar to disappointment bubbles in Jimin’s stomach. How silly of him, to have allowed something so precious and delicate escape?

The student frowns, rising to his feet and brushing off the sand that clings to his jeans. Allowing himself one final peek at the ocean, he sighs at the absence of the woman and collects his things in his free hands, carefully stepping over the driftwood and seaweed that pulls up with the tide. As his body gets smaller and smaller in the distance, the girl surfaces once more; she watches as he parts, ruffling his hair and looking back even though he could see nothing. Sourness ripens in her throat as she watches him go, as she watches him leave for the second time in her entire life. Until next time, she thinks. Will you return?

Park Jimin plans to, and next time, he’ll bring swimming wear.

His return is quicker than initially expected, she admits.

Picking fitting weather, Park Jimin fakes a sick day at University to step out onto the shores of the beach. It’s been a little less than a week, but there are many unanswered questions drowning him that he cannot cope any longer. His professor notices his wandering attention during lectures, and is actually the person to suggest Jimin taking a day off. He accepts, a little too quickly for it to be believable, and sets off towards his dormitory with little to no intention of resting away his feelings.

Instead, the boy grabs a white shirt and plain trousers before setting off, subtly, towards the doors of the dormitory and not looking back until his feet have arrived at the dusty sands of the beach he loves so much.

She watches him as he approaches the same cove as before, and she stalks his movements towards the secluded area until he is seated, in the same position, staring at the same boulder with the same expression and the same obliviousness. It’s actually, she admits, kind of cute.

Nonetheless, she waits an appropriate length of time before showing herself to him once again. She waits until he is restless, tired of waiting- she waits right up until the moment he toys with the laces of his shoes and only barely catches the flash of her hair from the corner of his eyes.

His attention is no longer on his feet but instead on her, just how she likes it.

“You are back,” she calls. And Jimin doesn’t quite know what to say.

She waits, wordlessly, and stares at him from a distance, in the same upright position with her palms flat across the ridges of the boulder. Gasping for breath, as if he were submerged under the waves, Jimin clears his throat and pulls at the collar of his shirt. She looks different, despite them only being apart for less than a week. Her hair is now chin length, and no longer a crimson colour. Her locks of hair are now a peacock shade, although darker due to the water that clings to her roots. Like before, she exposes herself to the boy standing so cluelessly on the beach, eyes everywhere, nostrils flared, heart thumping.

“Your hair,” he says without thinking.

She raises a brow: “hair?”

“Your hair is different,” he dumbly calls. “It’s shorter.”

The woman stills. “It is just hair. Your hair is different too. It is not as messy today.”

He doesn’t know whether to be offended or not, but instead he stays quiet and stares at her, in what appears to be admiration, as she stands her ground (or, ocean) by the rock. It is only when she sighs and blinks once, before disappearing back beneath the waves for several minutes. Those minutes feel like eternity for Park Jimin, who feels like he’s just been punched.

She has left again? Perhaps he scared her off with his staring. But he’s just a boy, just a kid, just a stupid kid. He can’t help his hormones! Jimin shakes his head, ridding of those thoughts as he looks back over at the ocean. It is still and dark in its appearance and he purses his lips ever so slightly, casting a gaze back down at his swimming clothes sitting untouched on the pile of pebbles by his feet. She is gone, now.

As he collects his things, Jimin slips his feet back into his shoes and starts to make his way towards the underside of the pier, ready to return back to his dorms.

“You are leaving?”

He jumps, startled, and looks back towards the pool where the girl has re-emerged, treading water idly near to the shore, watching the boy as he attempts to leave. He doesn’t.

“I thought you were gone,” he admits quietly, noting the way her features are less bright, less enthusiastic. Is she frowning? “I’m sorry.”

The girl tilts her head to the side. “What is your name?”

He opens his mouth, mockingly like a fish out of water. The mermaid (he thinks) is not phased by it, however, and he speaks loudly so she can hear: “I’m Jimin.”

A hint of a smile flashes across the girl’s lips. “Y/N.”

“You have a pretty name,” Jimin says, without really registering the fact that he just said that. Y/N smirks to herself, the corners of her mouth flicking up as her lips purse. “Are…” he starts, “you...a mermaid?”

Y/N is silent for a moment, “Of sorts. My mother bargained with a giant squid and was given an egg. That egg was me.”

Jimin pauses- “Your father is a squid?”

And the girl looks genuinely confused: “What?”

“Never mind,” Jimin is quick to brush it off. “...I...I like your tail.” He watches as the tip of her tail catches the top of the waves, cutting through the water quickly and splashing, causing ripples to quiver across the dark shades of blue.

“Thank you,” Y/N replies. Then she hesitates, looking back up at the boy through her eyelashes. “Would you like to….touch it?”

Obviously hesitant, Jimin looks at her in silence for several minutes. The sky dims to a rich, gloomy shade of grey and the wind picks up, ruffling his fringe across his forehead.

“...Can I?” he asks. He regrets asking.

“I would not have offered if you weren’t allowed to,” she points out. “You can come and touch it, Jimin. Take off your shoes and clothes and come in.”

Although he should really decline, Jimin’s feet begin to push out of his shoes, his heels digging into the sand as he crouches to take off his socks and stuff them inside. The girl watches from the water as Jimin begins to change into his swimming clothes, and she arches a brow: “What are you doing, boy?”

He pauses, “I’m getting dressed. So that I can come into the water.” He stops: “Girl.”

“Must you even dress?” she asks curiously, twirling in the water. “Come in without clothes, there is nothing to be afraid of.”

Jimin opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out. “I...I would like to change.”

The girl sighs, turning to face the cliffside. “Alright then.”

He watches as she continues to stare at the cliffside and not look back, so Jimin takes this as an opportunity to change into his rather simple swimming clothes. When he is all done, facing the ocean-front winds, he takes gentle steps towards the tide and shudders when his toes are submerged in the contents of the sea. Y/N looks over her shoulder to see that he is changed and approaching, and something close to amusement rises in her body.

“Just come on in,” she calls. “The water is not cold when you are in it.”

He finds it inside of him to nod and he steps through the waves, freezing all over. Y/N watches his every movement and her tail cuts through the water roughly as he approaches. By now, the water is at his knees and her body is pulsing with excitement. She extends her arms outwards, and Jimin notices her webbed fingers and is fascinated, reaching out to hold them and she pulls him forward encouragingly, all the way until he is only breaths away from her. He realises their closeness but does nothing to try and move away. Instead, he stares right at her; he stares at her misty eyes, the stardust-like freckles upon the bridge of her nose, the way her lips part at his arrival, the way her skin is naturally highlighted and glowing in the dull sunshine.

“I have never met a human before,” she muses. Then pauses, laughing, “Well, besides the sailors.”

“I’ve never met a mermaid before,” Jimin replies. “Ever!”

Y/N smiles, “I saw you before, when you were younger. On the beach with your Mother. I wondered if we would ever meet again. And, here we are.”

Jimin is quiet, “here we are.”

bloody hell back then i didnt know what plot development meant lmao.......tragedy luv....

[esotericsoldierarchive]

{ When angels fall with BROKEN wings I can't give UP; I can't give in. }

FLASHBACK;

‘You certain HQ authorised this so soon? It's still stabilising.’

Loud AUTHORATIVE insistence resounded in its ears, registering despite the harsh semi-conscious state. ( Vaguely aware of the bustling of Soviet soldiers, cold clinical hands gripping wrists like a vice. White-noise ear-piercing. ) Professional bodies had hauled it from the safety of its ice chamber, warm human flesh scorching its own smooth skin. That bone-numbing chill was unlikely to fade for some time, if at all.

‘Yes. Do not question us. Is it breathing?’

A grunt was the only RESPONSE; lights flickering as its eyes attempted to adjust. The blinding luminescence bordering on pain, discomfort spreading through its limbs. ( Lungs fought to find air; each breath hurting, the stabbing sensation increasing. ) Thrashing; the chains locked in place in time to prevent it from lashing out, the man’s slap enough to remind it of its place.

‘It needs blood - then it will behave.’ Gloved fingers taped the IV in place; injecting a SEDATIVE and blood-mixture; watching as its exhaustion increased and it slumped; allowing them to proceed. ( Time held no meaning, orders barked in native tongue, obeyed and soon it was prepped for the mission. ) Armed with future technology and passed off to the Soviets, HYDRA reminding them they’d be monitoring their every move.

It didn’t ARGUE; not wired to refuse; and found itself heading out into swirling white; the blizzard bitter cold, standard gear doing little to protect it. Not that it needed armour; trailing after the Soviets, oblivious to their conversation. ( Had it listened, it would have understood more, but it wasn’t permitted to eavesdrop; advanced senses selective under their command. ) Tongue stuck to the roof its mouth, halfway through the Russian alps; only to freeze like a deer caught in headlights.

( Fresh forbidden blood. Lots of it. )

‘Halt, seems to have sensed something.’

Instinct had it bolting away from the agitated SOVIETS who had raised weapons, expecting an assault of some sort; the ferocious wind doing little to deter it, as meters turned into miles. Covering more and more ground; feral in every sense of the word. ( Nothing mattered other than the discovery of such delicious substance; somersaulting and landing as it located the source; the man - no angel, severely injured but alive. ) His heartbeat taunted it closer, and before it knew it, fangs had driven into his throat.

Overcome by need, it showed no REMORSE; only pausing once it heard the Soviet Soldiers within earshot.  ( Panic flared through its usually emotionless mind-set, quick to try and rectify the situation by returning the avenging angels blood from its own body; feeding motionless lips as much as it could muster. ) Groaning in something akin to frustration, it turned and took off; unaware of what it had done but certain there would be harsh consequences.

Disobedience was, after all, PROHIBITED.

{ When all is lost and daylight ENDS; I'll carry YOU and we will live forever. }

PRESENT;

‘Asset out of control. Urgent assistance requested.’

BULLETS met immortal muscle though that didn’t slow it down; darkened eyes focused on the operative spewing crimson. All it had taken was a visit to the victims of a supposed terrorist attack for it to lose all sense of self. Well and that and a nose-bleed in the middle of a snowstorm. ( Now it was like an assault rifle, deadly without arsenal, and the shocks to its throat from the collar just an annoyance. Its mind roared with repressed memories, the feel of an angels breath leaving their body; a splutter showing a sign of life. ) Head shook and it launched itself slaughtering the soldiers within seconds; nails digging into own eye sockets; willing the images away.

Of course, that did nothing but cause it to SUFFER; gaze ripping towards the pile of bodies; the ones it had caused, examining them with a sudden frantic urge to understand; brushing fang marks and letting out a sharp exhale. ( No. I can’t have, can I? ) History returned with a vengeance, compromised an understatement; years and years of wipes rendering it incapable of rational thought, trying to piece together what it needed to know.

The thing, the MAN in the snow; it hadn’t killed him. Well, it had… but it knew the rumours. Superiors had warned it never to offer its blood to another soul; just in case… and vaguely it realised it knew why. ( For, they weren’t sure whether if it was capable of passing the ‘curse’ on; were they? ) Gums throbbed as it dragged itself away from the mindless massacre, howling in distress for it knew what it must do. It had to return to that exact location, a place which had haunted its existence since the moment they had discovered it had run away.

For its PUNISHMENT had been brutal and just a glimpse of remembering it, usually sent it tail between legs back to those in charge, to forget... Flinching, heavy duty boots trudged through the snow ( suppressing the fear ) knowing what must be done and by the time it had staggered upon the sight it had all begun; its head was clearer than it had been for some time. The shocks had died down, out of range and it allowed its physique to collapse into the snow; eyes closing.

How long it lay there, it knew NOT; but when it finally adjusted its position, it had a new mission received by none other than itself and was no longer a tool for human use. ( Oh and after that, it was easy; protocol familiar and followed. Tracking the traces scent implanted in memory, for days. ) Until finally it - no he; Valentin was there; concealed in shadows; nails digging into palms. His creation close.

Foreign anxiety threatened to overwhelm him; to send him back to HYDRA but he knew he had no home to go to; not after what he had done and become, and so it was… shakily, feet approached; he took a deep breath and squeezed in the opening of the abandoned building. Not fooled by the scattered debris and dropped from a great height, in front of the thing he had been avoiding for a very long time… his past - his present, and alas, not intentionally his future.

‘I...I did this to you - I didn’t know but  please, I-I remember now... I remember everything.’

[lovehotelreservation]

All Talk

Summary: Why must it always be that whenever you decide to tease Ghiaccio, you end up in steaming hot water?

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Reader/La Squadra di Esecuzione

HELLO EVERYONE AND WELCOME TO THE FIRST WEEK(END) OF THE LAST SUMMER OF FAFFERY! To those new to this blog, Faffery is a season-long fic spam full of one-shots based on requests and various themes on a weekly basis. ; u ; And alas, this shall be my last confirmed one.

But not too get too emotional on what I hope will be a festive next few weeks, I am eager to get things started with lewds featuring some hopefully confirmed Part 5 antagonists~! I hope you enjoy!

**Warning: the following one-shot contains themes of dub-con, humiliation, and derogatory language!

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

An attack on one is an attack on all.

A common philosophy shared amongst those who dwelled in a city's crime-ridden underbelly, a warning to those who may feel inclined to ever stand up for themselves, whether knowing or ignorant to being face to face with these residents.

But there were some who were fully aware of who they were dealing with and just simply unfazed by it all.

Much like you towards the men of La Squadra di Esecuzione.

Admittedly, you did have some sway since in the grand hierarchy of Passione, you were roughly within the same range of status like Doppio. Though you still haven't been made privy to the Boss's identity, you communicated regularly with his underboss, which may as well have been the same thing.

Whereas this brought you respect--whether genuinely so or out of fear--whenever you had to check up on Passioine's members, this only earned the snide apprehension from La Squadra, who also happened to be the group you had to monitor and deliver key information to the most.

The black sheep of the organization, so to speak. They were a lively, rowdy bunch, one that was a pain to keep up with, but was an amusing joy to spectate as though they were a comedy routine.

Those of Passione--hell, to just be a gangster period--must be tough and resilient to survive in any circumstance. Rather than cower in fear or cry over the abrasive nature they put up against you, instead you just took it as a challenge, enjoying just how far you could prod this particular beehive. Though your Stand, Glass and Patron, was better suited for infiltrating and snooping around places and people of interest, you could still hold out against your own--at least, just enough to be able to make your escape.

But today's visit to La Squadra's hideout in Florence would be the day when the beehive simply had enough.

It was chaotic as always, especially with all members still gathered in the living room as you came by to inform them of their newest task from the Boss. Considering that their mission involved infiltration, Illuso took it upon himself to give Man in the Mirror a training exercise by dragging Pesci into the huge mirror that took up an entire wall--a decoration he insisted to be installed, of course--making sure that Beach Boy and a furious Prosciutto were kept outside. Ghiaccio was giving Melone a noisy earful, ranting about the latter's audacity to use the term "baby batter" in an off-hand remark about finding the perfect breeding specimen. Formaggio was dragging his knees across the tiled floor, his hands clasped together in a plead as he begged for you to stay--"It's a desert here, amore! Please be the mirage that becomes an oasis to quench my thirst!"

Then there was Risotto, who was seated in the middle of it all in his own personal seat, looking over the documents that you presented to him.

So loud, so noisy. You couldn't wait to get away from it all.

"Well, I guess I'll be seeing you boys later~!" You chimed while casually pushing Formaggio's kissy face away from your thighs. As you passed by where Ghiaccio was sitting, still rambling on better terms to refer to semen with, a grin formed on your lips. Unable to resist, you reached over and pat his head as you said "boys" for emphasis

Catching onto this, he snarled and slapped your hand away while he glared up at you. "Tch, whatever. Have fun returning to your honorary duties as the Boss's jerkoff toy."

Unfazed, you laughed amusedly in response. "As cold as always, Ghiaccio~" It was then that a response came to mind, one that made the grin on your face stretch from ear to ear with unrestrained glee.

"The shrinkage must be constant for you, huh?"

You weren't exactly sure how anyone could have picked up on what you said amidst all the madness taking place in the living room, but you immediately realized how the atmosphere tensed and quieted. If it wasn't so jarring, you would've been amused to see Illuso--dragging out Pesci by the head--poke out from the mirror, his expression tight.

Which was shared by the way how Ghiaccio seized hold of your wrist before you could draw your hand back.

"What. Was. That?"

Before you knew it, you were shoved down to your knees with Ghiaccio standing right in front of you. It was clear that--without question--you made one crucial mistake, one that even Glass and Patron's effective means to slip by undetected would be rendered useless now that you had the attention and power of all members of La Squadra trained on you.

After all, it would prove to be difficult as you were suddenly embraced from behind from Formaggio, who was glad that he was already on his knees. He held you tight, having absolutely no intention to let you go, especially when you had the rest of La Squadra, save for a disoriented Pesci crawling on the ground before the mirror, crowd around you, each with their own expression of absolute disdain.

"Amore, amore, I know that Ghiaccio can be a punk-ass brat but he, along with all of us at La Squadra," Formaggio purred against your ear with smirk, which only grew as the others--even Risotto--reached for the belts to unbuckle them. "...have a nice thing we like to refer to as size."

You shuddered, letting out a squeak of surprise when you felt the heated, wet flat of his tongue trail along the shell of your ear.

Though, nothing could honestly prepare you for the sight of five cocks are various lengths, girths, trims, and cuts being presented right before your very eyes.

Humility often goes a long way, but you really messed up when teasing about size.

Not that you could admit to it, as you snorted in response, trying your best to not seem fazed, "What? Am I supposed to be impressed by a bunch flaccid dicks?"

That earned you a sudden hair grab from Prosciutto, the icininess in his stare matching his blue irises. "Should we take that as a complaint?"

"Aww amore, if you want all nice and hard..." Formaggio teased deviously while he reached for your jaw, squeezing your face to get your mouth to part open. "...then get to work!"

There was no way wiggling out of this. Even if you were to slip out of Formaggio's hold, you were still surrounded by the annoying but formidable members of La Squadra. Your Stand would have no chance against fighting against the likes of Metallica, or eluding White Album. And even if you were to try and bite at their cocks, you could easily see yourself subjected to some weird breeding experiment with Melone's Baby Face.

You scolded yourself. It would seem that you were going to be swallowing more than pride at this moment.

Your tongue flittered out past your lips as you prepared yourself to lick along the head of Prosciutto's cock--apprehensive mainly because this was La Squadra rather than a lack of experience, which you had--but that was not to be since Ghiaccio slapped away the hand of his comrade, freeing your hair, only for him to grab a fistful and drag your head over towards his dick.

"I'll show you shrinkage!" He snarled, his shoulders remaining tense with anger even if you reluctantly complied and began to kiss and suck his cock. "Your mouth got you into this mess and it'll be your only way out!"

"Now, now, Ghiaccio, there are plenty of other places that our lovely informant can offer," Melone mused with a hum, all while he began to salivate at the thought. "Like a pretty cunt to fill with cum and bree--"

He stopped to groan, feeling the warmth of your mouth suddenly envelop the head of his dick. Glancing down, he saw that you were glaring at him, even if you were flustered. In return, he only grinned darkly--you would be the ideal host for him.

"Formaggio." At last, Risotto spoke up while his eyes remained trained on your mouth. "The arms."

"Ohh, where are my manners? Sharing is caring after all~" He purred, loosening his hold on you so your arms were freed, only for your wrists to be seized by a grinning Illuso and an ever frigid Prosciutto, your hands guided to their cocks. The latter glanced to the side, his voice cool as he commanded, "Pesci, get over here."

"I-I will!" Pesci squeaked timidly, having remained on the ground while observing what was going on from afar. "Just...give me a few minutes!"

"I'm giving you one...!" Prosciutto huffed, right as your thumb pressed against the tip of his cock, smearing his pre-cum around before beginning to stroke and pump his length.

By now, you were beyond the awkward start to your extended stay with the men of La Squadra. As much as you wished to be well on your way back to Venice to meet with Doppio, you thought to see your current predicament as a means to seize control, in that your pleasure literally rested in your hands.

Though, La Squadra and its insistent defiance wouldn't allow for you to claim victory anytime soon.

You were overwhelmed. Not a moment to think. Not a moment to dawdle. There wasn't a point when your mouth wasn't utterly stuffed with cock, or when your hands were put to use. It didn't help that while you were made to service them, Formaggio gleefully took it upon himself to strip you down, baring even more territory for La Squadra to take, claim, and grope.

They always were victorious when it came to turf wars.

Above you, the men taunted and teased, even as they groaned and craved more of the slick heat of your tongue, or the softness of your palms. If your mouth and hands were preoccupied, either they shoved one another out the way to possess you--save for their leader, obviously--or decided to nudge and rub their cocks against your now fully exposed chest, smirks forming when it was made apparent that your nipples were stiff.

"Where's that pride you carry yourself with?" The gravely tone of Risotto's voice struck deeply within you, causing a moan to be let out--though you wanted to think it was moreso because Formaggio had gone from rubbing you between your thighs after tearing off your panties to prodding your ass with his fingertips. Though, the sound you emitted was muffled, since La Squadra's leader was grasping your head with both of his big, calloused hands, keeping your head still while he fucked your mouth with the thick girth of his cock.

Your eyes narrowed at him, which resulted in Ghiaccio purposefully rubbing the slick tip of his cock over your cheek. "Oi! Speak up!"

The thought of "Look what's in my mouth, asshole!" crossed your mind, but you--unfortunately--were given the chance to answer as Risotto withdrew his cock from your mouth.

A chance to finally breathe, even if your hands were still made to stroke and jerk off Melone and Illuso.

But what could you say? Answering jokingly and get punished. Answer falsely and get ridiculed. Answer defiantly and get ravaged.

Though, with your head spinning from what you've just gone through, what could you even say about how you felt? La Squadra were the outcasts that you've unfortunately been made to play babysitter for and now you were being dragged over to patch up their pride over a joking insult to their dick size.

Could you ever live it down with yourself to say you found pleasure from this--?

A whimper was suddenly released from your lips, your body arching in surprise when you felt something hard and hot glide right beneath and against your slippery core. Glancing down, you watched as Formaggio's cock slid back and forth, the obscene sound of your wetness made prominent. A rush of heat swept over you, initially because of his actions but moreso to see the smug and/or amused expressions form on the faces of the La Squadra men.

Formaggio leaned forward, his chin resting on your shoulder as he chuckled lecherously. "To answer the question for our speechless beauty of here, Risotto: there ain't a single shred of pride left."

"Then..." Risotto's crimson gaze seized hold of yours. "It's better that we fill the void then."

You shivered.

Upon the same floor where you stood proudly while delivering intel for their next task--all the while playfully threatening them on how if they screw up, they'd all be moving in with Ariel--was where you were left sprawled and across Risotto while he laid beneath you, his hands guiding your hips, hoisting you up before spearing your ass with his cock. Whereas you were wondering how you were going to fit his girth into your mouth left you crying out as you were stretched to accommodate his size.

It made you glad that Formaggio was so insistent on teasing and feeling you up, the bit of preparation that was spared to you.

For someone who carried himself with such silent intimidation, you were honestly astonished to hear him hiss out of pleasure, curses drawn from his lips while he savored your tightness. From the way he held your hips, it seemed clear that he would continue to take control of things. Though, rather than give you time to completely adjust, he droned out loud.

"Who's first?"

Ghiaccio took one defiant step forward, his eyes directly into yours as he growled. "Me...! Goddamn I've been waiting to put you in your place for so long!"

"Heh, weird fuckin' way of confessing your little crush, Ghiaccio." Formaggio smirked arrogantly from across him, all before he rolled his eyes and scowled. "But step aside. I haven't gotten any real action yet, so I'm goin' up first!"

"None of you fuckers are going until Pesci gets his ass over here!" Prosciutto rumbled vehemently, his head snapping over to where Pesci was still seated.

Having been rubbing himself through his pants at the display before him, he responded meekly with a shaky breath. "B-Big bro, it's fine...! I can...I can wait."

"Don't think you're gettin' outta this!"

You heard the devious chuckle of Melone as he observed, "The condition of your body--a good fit for Baby Face, but to be quite honest, you're an even better fit for me--"

"Mm, then I suppose I'll go first." Illuso grinned toothily while sliding right up to you, parting your legs with one hand while the other cupped your cheek. Seeing you tense, he let out a small, amused laugh before he leaned down to peck your lips. "Oh amore, don't you know I've always been fond of you~? Now, relax. I'll be gentle~"

While not as ungodly massive as Risotto, having to take in Illuso's cock--along with that of the aforementioned leader--left you groaning, your back arching as you were overwhelmed by how completely full you felt.

Illuso's teeth clenched as he groaned from entering your warmth, his head tilting back slightly while his smile remained plastered on his face. Slowly, he rocked his hips into and against yours, a contrast to the brutal pace that Risotto was quick to work himself up to."So divine...! Amore, you're something I'd be willing to sit through mass for~"

"God--- Goddamn you, Illuso!" Ghiaccio barked, envy in his eyes. The same could be said for the others present, annoyed that they were beaten to the punch.

Not that it mattered, for everyone would be having their way with you.

Engulfed. Seized. Posessed.

Being on your knees with your mouth open for their use was nothing compared to this.

Risotto acting as your foundation--even while he drilled his cock up into your ass with some otherwordly stamina--your legs remained parted for whomever wanted to claim you for himself. And even if you were preoccupied with two, your mouth and hands were made to be used to bide time until his inevitable turn, going so far as to rub his dick against your chest. Like that of a hydra, when one climaxed, there was always another eager to ravage whatever he could of you, regardless of whether they were able to make you climax or not.

Though relentlessly teasing, you were surprised by how tender Illuso was, with kisses to your neck while thrusting into you steadily before eventually finishing off on your stomach. By contrast, Ghiaccio took after his leader well, pounding into your core, mauling your chest with pinches and gropes, viciously biting at your neck and chest--though, he was pretty flustered when he heard Formaggio's jeer of "Ya' gonna confess your love now?" Even when he came deeply inside your core with a fierce growl, he was reluctant to leave, grunting that he still wasn't done with putting you in your place and wanted to go another round.

Which would have to wait since Prosciutto shoved him off of you, all the while dragging Pesci over and curtly ordering his partner to pay close attention.

Admittedly, anyone could seem gentle by comparison to Ghiaccio and Risotto, but Prosciutto was pumping into you with gusto. You always saw him as frigid and aloof, however, hearing him grunt and curse while his face was flushed red and contorted with pleasure was a side that you couldn't help but appreciate. His hand roamed across your chest, squeezing and groping--less rough and abrasive, more firm yet still pleasurable. Though, not to be too tender, he still made it a point to look down towards you as he hissed "And that makes three...!" as he emptied himself inside of you.

By contrast, Pesci tried. He thrusted into you clumsily, his hands moving over your body, unsure of where to grab or hold onto, even with Prosciutto by his side, instructing him on what to do.

"Aren't...aren't we supposed to hold hands?"

"Absolutely not!"

Eventually, he just grabbed onto your thighs for purchase, pushing his cock in and out of you with no true sense of rhythm or composure. He ended up slipping out of you right as he came, whimpering as his release just inches below your stomach.

Prosciutto patted his head, at first with a sigh before he remarked, "You did alright, Pesci. You did alright."

Amidst the out-of-place touching moment between the two, Melone beat Formaggio to claim you next. His face was twisted with feverish glee, matched by the way he burrowed his cock inside of you, licking his lips over and over in tune to his eager thrusts. The warmth of his tongue snaked along your torso, avoiding where others have smeared their cum, wanting to savor the unique taste of your skin and sweat. Cradling your hips, he thumbed over the skin in admiration, enjoying how they felt in his hands while imagining how glorious they would look while bearing a child. "Di molto...! You're perfect! Perfect!" He exclaimed while kissing and sucking the valley between your breasts.

Similarly to Ghiaccio, he refused to leave you once he eventually came while shivering delightedly that he got to pour his seed inside of you.

Though, with Formaggio yanking him away with the grumble of "God, sometimes your fucks really piss me off," such would not be the case.

Positioning himself between your legs, his mood changed as he winked flirtatiously. "But not you amore~ This is a wet dream come true!"

Yet more relief in contrast to the viciousness of Risotto. His thrusts were fluid, the shift of his hips adhering the experience he had to hone perfection. Warm lips wrapped around your nipples, him groaning as he joyfully buried his face into your chest, shaking his head from side to side against your skin. The callousness of his thumb on your clit offered a delightful sensation, especially as it was in perfect sync to his rhythm with you moaning and squeezing around his cock in response.

By now, your mouth was free, nothing to muffle or silence the noises of pleasure you released.

It was then that you felt Risotto nip at the base of your neck, catching your attention as his quickened his thrusts, becoming more unforgiving as you could feel his cock finally begin to throb within your ass. Your cries became a lot more apparent and clear, especially with both him and Formaggio fucking you. For how long you've endured the brunt of their brutish lust, allowed to cum whenever they felt like it, you milked the two for all they were worth as you came, feeling the heat of Risotto's release within while Formaggio's spilled onto you.

Your breath haggard and heaving, you fell back against the leader's chest, but as exhausted and drained as you were...

It felt good.

"The Boss's precious lapdog is now our little bitch in heat. How fitting," he snarled viciously against your ear. "Tch, to think that we've been getting ordered around by a shameless cock-hungry slut all this time."

His subordinates all laughed--some chuckling, others cackling. A bit of amusement before they readied themselves to have their way with you again.

There was no way they could let you go back to the Boss’s lap after this.

It seemed you were now part of that all.

[momstiel]

Was He Really Ever Yours? 

AO3 - Find more of my fics on tumblr here 

Wolfstar || Rated: Mature || Warning: Major Character Death || Words: 6,156

Summary: The problem wasn’t that he was gorgeous. The problem was that she knew he was. All Sirius has ever wanted was Remus, and he’s determined to be with him at any cost - even if it means he needs to eliminate his cousin from the picture in the process.

EXCERPT: (Read the whole work on AO3 here)

Sirius’s eyes were glued to Remus as he came into the Leaky Cauldron hand in hand with nobody other than Nymphadora Tonks. A pulse of jealousy ran through his veins at the sight of one of his best friends frolicking so close with his little cousin. If someone were to look upon the scene, they might have assumed it just a case of him being overly protective of his younger relative, but that couldn’t have been further from the truth.

“Goodmorning, Sirius,” A familiar voice- one Sirius knew well that was laced with warmth and love. Some of the anger boiled away as his vision locked on a pair of beautiful amber eyes. The morning light coming in from the window was hitting them in such of a way that they shined almost yellow. Sirius was rendered speechless for a few seconds as his heart skipped a beat.

“Morning, Moony,” Sirius replied with an air of nonchalance. He was doing his best to appear unaffected by the sight that welcomed him. Wiggling over, he made room on his side of the booth for Remus to sit down. However, by the time he looked up, he noticed that Tonks already was tugging him down to sit next to her. Sirius narrowed his eyes for a few seconds, irritable because his advancement was shot down in favor of his cousin’s.

“Hey there, cousin!” Tonks chirpily announced once Remus sat down next to her. She looked up from the menu that was already placed on the table to greet him. “Sorry, we were running a tiny bit late. We were doing things,” She winked as if trying to imply it was something sexual. Sirius’s grip on his own menu tightened.

“It’s fine.” Sirius lied, looking down at the assortment of food options. He decided he was going to order something light, any trace of an appetite ruined. “So, Moony,” He began, looking up and feeling some sort of relief when he was staring at Remus. There was something handsome and breathtaking about him. He was the embodiment of everything pure in his life - his presence in itself is an aether. “You and Nymphadora, huh?”

His cousin visibly tensed at the name, swiftly jumping in before her boyfriend could say anything. “Tonks. It’s Tonks.”

Honestly, Sirius never really had a problem with his cousin. She was alright, one of the better relatives he shared blood with. Sure, she was loud, and disaster followed her around wherever she went, but overall, she was fine. Yet, the day she set an owl to Sirius’s flat, flamboyantly writing to him all about her and Remus’s first date, his opinion changed. It had come as an utter shock to his system, because never in a million years would he have expected his best friend to accept her advances. At Hogwarts, Remus had briefly dated Kingsley, and Sirius had always assumed he was gay. He never broke a sweat over Tonk’s flirtations to the werewolf because it never crossed his mind that his crush was bisexual (or even slightly interested in someone like Tonks).

Since that day, Sirius held a personal grudge against her. He realized he fancied Remus in the seventh year, and he vowed that within the next year, he’d make him his. Now, almost exactly two years after graduation, Sirius realized that he was behind in his plan. During his elaborate plotting, he had never once considered that his cousin would move in and prove to make herself an enemy to the cause.

“Yeah, Tonks and I,” Remus replied, a hint of awkwardness present in his voice as he admitted it. He ran his hand over his neck, a nervous tick that Sirius had grown rather acquainted to seeing over sharing a dorm with him for seven years. In fact, because of their shared residency, he had become fluent in understanding the werewolf’s body language in general.

“Well, congratulations,” Sirius replied dully. He wore a small grin, knowing for now he had to at least act the part. Even though he felt a strong urge to slap his cousin, he kept it concealed. His hatred was burning hot inside of him, but if he let it out, he would have to explain why he was so opposed to them dating.  “It just surprises me a little.”

“That’s understandable,” Remus assured, glancing at Tonks. He gave her a warm smile, a smile that Sirius personally believed should be reserved only for him. “We are polar opposites, but I think that’s why we’re such of a good fit. I balance her out, and she teaches me how to live a little.” Precisely why we would make such of a good match ourselves, my dear Moony.

“Couldn’t help myself,” Tonks chuckled, looking back at her boyfriend. She smiled kindly at him, “I guess there’s something really endearing about this nerd,” She added with a grin, reaching up to ruffle Remus’s golden curls. A faint blush grew on his cheeks as he awkwardly accepted the action.

“There really is,” Sirius added, looking fondly at Remus.

Remus shook his head even though his face betrayed him and showed the starting signs of a small smile cracking onto his chapped lips. “Oh, you two are just flattering me.” He teased. He never had taken well to compliments or flirtations, always doing his best to deflect them.

Before any of them could fit in anything else, a waiter came up to take their orders. Remus ordered a hot chocolate and some french toast while Sirius requested some eggs, bacon, and pumpkin juice. When the waiter came to Tonks, she just ordered a coffee - much to Sirius’s surprise. Once their orders were taken back, Sirius arched a brow. “Only coffee?”

“Oh, yeah! I’m just staying for a tiny bit. I’ve got auror training soon, and I’ll be heading off. I just wanted to meet with you to catch up a tiny bit, Sirius.” Tonks replied chirpily, looking proudly towards Remus, “Plus, I love spending time with my darling boyfriend and my darling cousin.”

Can’t relate, Sirius thought bitterly, looking at Tonks. Despite still being jealous, his mood lightened considerably as he realized that he was finally going to be having some alone time with Remus.

“It’s a shame you can’t stay longer,” Remus said to Tonks, and all Sirius could think was ‘is it really much of a shame though?” “But good luck with the training,”

“I don’t need luck,” Tonks replied, wearing a smug attitude Sirius recognized mirrored his own in years past. I don’t see why he fell for her and not for me… He thought.

Remus chuckled, glancing up as the waiter brought over their drinks. He thanked him, wiggling out of the booth to allow Tonks to leave. She escaped past him after she got a hold on her coffee. Her red lipstick left a mark on Remus’s cheek as she kissed him goodbye. “For us,” She said, reaching into her pocket and handing her boyfriend a few coins to cover their meal.

Always awkward with money, Remus just silently accepted it and slid it into his pocket. Sirius knew that Remus always felt uncomfortable having others buy stuff for him. It was one of the traits that drew him to Sirius. Once Tonks was gone, Sirius grabbed a napkin and passed it to his friend. His expression softened, “To take care of the little mark you’ve got there,” He touched his own cheek to show Remus where the lipstick stain was. Just thought you wouldn’t want to be walking around with the mark of the devil on you.  

“Oh, thanks,” Remus said, giving Sirius a small smile.

For the next hour, Sirius relished his alone time with the werewolf. They talked about anything and everything. They talked about the good and the bad and everything in-between. In his mind, he liked to fantasize that they were on a date and at that moment everything was meant to be. Remus was his, and he was Remus’s, and they were happy.

Unfortunately, all good things come to an end and this meeting was no exception. When Remus got up and excused himself, reality left a painful mark on him. Sirius quickly realized that he wasn’t going to be going with him and that their little piece of heaven was over. Remus would be going back to Tonks, and alas Sirius would be going back home, alone.