#soaring waters au

[gamerbearmira]

Maybe something with the shark mermaid au!

can you tell which one I did half sleep and the other fully aware 🤠

EITHER WAY I...I love them. I gotta do color for them tbh, they look very different in color, trust 😭🙏 mostly because they're all different kinds of sharks but. You know <33

ALSO DID YOUR TOTALLY RADICAL TOTALLY COOL SOARING WATERS AU...and I totally didn't use it as an excuse to draw Lil Isa and baby Mira. Totally 🌚

[fanaticsnail]

Possessive

Masterlist here

Word Count: 1,900+

Synopsis: Rob Lucci was obsessed with you the moment the inner beast caught your scent in Galley-La. Now all alone after trailing you for a month, he finally manages to catch you and make his desires known.

Themes: yandere!rob lucci x gn!reader, yandere, dub con, mentions of beast (leopard), half-shifted lucci, feral lucci, hunting, tracking, nudity mentioned (reader and lucci), kisses, confessions of love, biting, licking, marking, leaning into a little bit of monster-loving, sfw - no smut, I think hybrid au? Hybrid nature, mentions of 'mate'.

Edit: shifter Rob Lucci, not hybrid 🖤. Thank you anon!

Notes: Yandere Rob Lucci has been on my mind lately. He needed to get out.

Tag list: @gingernut1314 @since-im-already-here @writingmysanity @indydonuts @feral-artistry @sordidmusings @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @i-am-vita @sunflowersatori @extremely-ashtridic

His eyes snapped shut as a deep shudder coursed through his body, tingles shooting sparks of ignition down his spine and up to his head. He parted his lips and inhaled a sharp, hissed breath as his canines extended, his eyes reopening and slitted pupils expanded to eclipse his irises with a feral animosity. Your sweet scent swelled his heart, his lungs ignited as his blood began to pump at the thought of the hunt recommencing. 

It had been months of withholding you from his thoughts, pushing his urges for you down as he focussed on his missions and orders granted to him from Cipher Pol. After finally being granted a small reprieve between assignments, he allowed himself the luxury of beginning his pursuit of your trail once more. 

He left Hattori behind at his base, truly not desiring the pigeon to witness his carnal desires overcome his usual stoic and cold nature. Never truly giving into his Zoan Devil-Fruit, he usually has the beast lingering and lurking beneath the surface. In truth, he had never truly desired to give in to the animal nature, desiring to remain cool and level headed in his ruthless brutality.

Until that one time your sweet scent shot through his nose and ignited his feral need to state a claim for another being. 

Meeting you and the rest of your crew at Galley-La, he was struck by your appearance and that gentle laugh you offered the sniper, Usopp, when he recounted a tale of his youth at Syrup Village. Everything seemed to slow in motion, his heavy breathing and dilated pupils were the only sounds within the crowd as he lay struck and fixated on every movement. 

He was struck dumb by your laugh, the smile held him hostage as it softly spread up your lips and painted your cheeks with your joy. It almost made him wish to fling his plans of betrayal to the wind and sink his claws and teeth into you and hold you close. His needs tugged at his heart, his instincts and animalistic nature keening and screaming at him to give in and claim you as his. Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply and committed your fragrance to memory.

The taste of your skin on the wind propelled him to drive harder, push his body further, and fully give in to his cravings for you as he felt his skin shift and split to make way for fur and claws. Rolling his shoulders back, the muscles compacted first before straining to enlarge with his beastial form. 

His legs picked up as the wind brushed past his face with quickened pace. Each stride had his blood boiling, his heart soaring at the knowledge that you were getting closer and closer with each feral leap and spring he made. Another factor he took into consideration was ensuring you were far enough from your crew to not call for help. The scent of the Straw-Hats were no longer lingering near you, and he was desperate in wanting to claim you as his all alone.

Slowing to a soft prowl, his eyes finally met with your form. Stooping low, you filled up several cantinas of river water and placed them within a wicker basket to return to your crew. He inhaled deeply to catch your sweet scent on the wind, his purred growl exiting his lips with a lengthy exhale to process it. 

Head snapping upwards, you attempt to locate the source of the guttural sound. The small twitch has Lucci’s stomach coil tightly and jaw falling slack at the sight. You were just a meek little thing. So defenseless and unprotected. 

As you return to your duties of filling up the final cantina for your crew, he watches as you take a moment to look around for any danger before stripping yourself down to your undergarments and retracting your towel from the basket beneath the water containers. His breath hitches as you strip yourself bare and slip into the reeds, all exposed for him and relaxed beneath the sun. 

Laying flat on your back and remaining buoyant and floating in the freshwater, he remained helpless and observant in knowing you had stretched far from his reach at this moment. His devil-fruit had claimed his ability to swim, but his need and desire for you only grew the moment your warm flesh lay bare before him. 

He made himself small, lowering himself to the ground and his claws dug into the ground the longer you eluded him. If you would venture closer to the bay, he could easily capture you in his clutches and tug you away from the shore. 

Lucci was a patient man, his work undercover in Galley-La for five long years was a sentiment to his persistence and perseverance. His body began to slowly rock from side to side, pacing as his muscular shoulders rolled with each crouched motion as he lay fixed on your form. Nothing could break him away from this concentration, you were the only thought occupying his mind. 

The moment your hand brushes with the side of the floral riverbank, Lucci pounces. His half-shifted body springs forward, capturing you from the water and tugging you towards the ground cover of underbush. His hand finds your lips, clapping his palm over them to stifle your muffled scream. 

The panic is written on your face as Lucci cages you beneath him, ensuring your legs remain well hidden in the shrubbery by tucking them beneath his thighs and wrapping his patchy tail around them. His dangerous, golden eyes beam down at you, his canines extended and his muzzle-like jowls pull back to reveal his pointed teeth to you. 

Fear tainted your scent, the air tasting bitter and tart mixing with your natural sweetness the longer his beastial form pinned you beneath him. He could see in your eyes, and feel the vibrations of your whimper beneath his palm, that you expected to die at this very moment. He leaned down further, hovering his open mouth over your jugular and feeling your throat gulp back and stifle your shock. 

Clamping your eyes shut, all of your thoughts are on your crew. You were foolish to assume you could ever have a moment of peace while traveling with the Straw-Hats. Thinking you could indulge in your desires for a short dip in a warm ravine, you truly had no idea that your day would end like this. 

The sworn enemy of your captain, a dangerous Zoan-Fruit user taking shape in his leopard half-shifted form and caging you beneath him. His breath felt hot on your neck, and his teeth threatened to puncture the skin and claim your life as his trophy. As you prepared yourself for your final moments alive, you furrowed your brows and reopened your shocked eyes.

A coarse tongue lolled out and grazed your throat with a slow and deliberate flicker. You gulp back your shock as another intentional stripe was made against your pulse, his teeth now nuzzling you with his snout and huffing your flesh like an addictive fragrance. Your body shook in shock as he pressed more of his body against yours, his radiant heat keeping you warm as he licked off the dewed droplets of water from your skin. 

The clawed hand began to caress your cheeks beneath his grip on your lips, his tongue and teeth continuing to grind against your pulse and taste your flesh. Your body responded to him by arching your back and betraying any thoughts of attacking him as he savored your flavor with a purred hum. You bit back a gasp as his teeth begin to mouth at the sensitive point beneath your ear, gently biting and marking you as you lay captured beneath him.

“Finally alone,” he purred against your skin, nuzzling his muzzle against your skin, “Finally within my clutches.” He licked a long stripe up to your chin and flicked his coarse tongue over it. You shudder, shivering as you unintentionally hide your body beneath the warmth of his larger frame. You round your eyes, looking up at his face as he hovers over your own. 

His eyes hold a possessive and captivating aura within them, your breath stolen from you as his human form begins to return to his features. His eyes remain slitted and blown with desire, but his body falls back to the form you are more familiar with. Slowly removing his hand from your lips, his gaze focuses on the way they part and gasp for air beneath him. Each soft inhale had a whimpered exhale, your fear still evident in your face as his bare skin warms your own beneath him. 

“If you are going to kill me, kill me, Rob Lucci,” you whisper, darting your eyes between his and hardening your resolve. His chest rumbles with a growling purr as he rests his elbows by your chest and slowly slots his arms beneath your shoulder blades. 

“Kill you?” he whispers, hovering his lips over yours and breathing in your air, “Whatever drew you to that conclusion?” He captured your lips beneath his in an open and possessive kiss, stealing a moan from you as he pressed his body flush with yours. The scrape from his cropped beard over your chin tickled against your flesh as he parted his lips and hummed into yours. 

Blinking back your shock, you apprehensively hook your arms over his shoulders and hold him against you as you return the desperate and feverish kiss with a sweetness and timidity he was not expecting. The softer you returned his kiss, the more brutal he pressed his lips and tongue into you. If you attempted to retract from his lips, he simply arched his back down into you and pressed his entire mass flush against you. 

The fact that you were both naked beneath the foliage cover had you feeling more anxious and concerned about being found. For Lucci, it felt as natural to him as sitting in the sun and enjoying it's warmth.

He enjoyed your touch so much so that it came to him like a breathy release of built up tension. His lips continued to mouth at you, his tongue caressing and grinding against yours as he claimed your desires and ignited his own desperation with each motion. 

Finally pulling away from your lips, his eyes grew half-lidded and blown as he looked to the saliva connecting your parted lips to his with lust written in his blown pupils. He shuddered out a low and powerful groan as he looked to where his lips, tongue and teeth marked over your neck while in his beastial form. 

“Mine,” he uttered darkly, slowly pressing his lips against your neck and holding them firmly against your skin, “Only mine.” You gulped, blinking back your shock as he continued to ravish you beneath the shrubbery. His lips felt desperate and warm, his voice now chirping and chittering as he happily lapped at your bruising and made them deeper in hue and rise higher in swollen texture. 

The beast within him was chanting a single word alongside your name with glee, enjoying how your arms continue to hold him against you softly. Purring against you, he finally vocalized the word with a possessive growl against your skin.

“My mate,” he breathed out through his nose, lips continuing to press against your pulse as you freeze up beneath him, “All Zoan-Fruit users have one, and you?” he pulled away, hovering his face over yours with his eyes darkening, “Oh you, sweet thing.” 

Nuzzling his nose against yours, he cooed and purred down at you while his eyes remained feral and possessive. Your own eyes widened as he uttered two words that would change your fate forever. The two words that had you screaming internally to flee and return to your captain, but your heart swelling and yearning to make those words true. He spoke them with such sincerity, you almost swooned at his immediacy. 

“You’re mine.” 

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♥︎ ₵₳₦ĐɎ ♥︎

♥︎ Pairing: lead singer!boyfriend!yuta x chubby!fem!bassist reader (you get mark & johnny as bandmates too so that's fun)

♥︎ Genre: rockstar au/fluff/angst/smut

♥︎ Summary: Joining your favorite band was a dream come true. That is until you fell for the lead singer who has no shortage of groupies throwing themselves at him. He says he loves you but can you really trust him? I mean, you used to be a groupie too after all.

♥︎ Word Count: 4.1k-ish

♥︎ Warnings: Strong language. If you don't like curse words I'm sorry babes. I'm a potty mouth. Unprotected sex, creampie, shower sex, rough sex, a lil choking, nibbling, scratching, fingering, marking, oral sex (f receiving), tattoos/piercings, pet names (daddy, baby, etc), a lil drop of mutual possessiveness.

♥︎ A/N: I've really been trying to have more fun with my fics and just let my brain do it's thing so I hope y'all have fun with it too, darlings.

“Yuta, I fucking love you!” an obnoxiously tipsy female voice screams from the crowd.

A bra comes soaring from the sea of bodies packed into the pit at the edge of the stage. The pink lace fabric lands at Yuta’s feet, draping itself across his scuffed black combat boots. Any band knows that when you stop the show to do something — tune your guitar, take a sip of water — it’s prime opportunity for anything to happen. And it almost always will. 

It’s not like you can blame her. Once upon a time you’d been one of those girls in the crowd, lost in the chaos of the night. There’s nothing like it, the rush that you get when your heart seems to sync with the violent bashing of the drums. The distorted guitars like electric coursing through your veins. Every lyric floats through the air, becoming more and more a part of you with each breath you take in. 

Then there was him…

Nakamoto Yuta. When your friends were all drooling over him you’d pretend you weren't interested. You’d never be so basic as to fall for the lead singer of the band. Maybe he did have the sort of voice that makes a girl melt even when he’s growling the filthiest lyrics. Especially when there’s growling. And maybe he did have bone structure to die for.

Then there were the tattoos, piercings, and the way sweat glistened on his chest halfway through a show. You weren’t won over by any of that. It was all about the music, one artist appreciating another. So when Yuta’s bassist quit the band and your manager broke the news that she’d gotten you an audition your intentions were purely artistic.

In this industry, a girl’s gotta work twice as hard as the guys to prove she can do half of what they can. You worked your ass off session after session, easily demolishing any other bassist their label could’ve suggested. You earned your spot in the band ten times over. Made sure no one could question why you were there. Then and only then did you let Yuta fuck your brains out. 

Before shows, after shows. Tour buses. Hotels. Airport bathrooms. Green rooms. Whenever. Wherever. However. In the studio and onstage it was still about the music but everything else? All of it was driven by how much you lusted for and, much to your dismay, loved one another.

Recalling the heavenly experience it is to be bent over a bathroom sink with Yuta so deep inside of you that you feel it in the back of your throat, you can’t really blame Ms. Pink Lace for tossing her bra at him. 

Kneeling down to pick up the bra, Yuta takes a look back at you. The most innocent face in the world, his baby angel, geared up and ready to commit murder. 

You can’t really blame her but—

Fuck it. You do. 

“I think she wants to come backstage after the show!” a guy shouts from the other side of the stage, garnering laughter from the crowd. Yuta smiles as he approaches the mic stand, the bra dangling from his fingers by the strap. “I think she wants my girl to kick my ass,” Yuta laughs, pushing his messy hair back out of his face.

“Kick his ass” Johnny whispers into his mic from the safety of his drum kit. Nearly spitting out the sip of water you’ve just taken, you toss the rest back at Johnny. The years of experience he has over you come in handy as he expertly dodges it.

“Boo, she doesn’t like to share!” Ms. Pink Lace shouts, not quite ready to back down.

Yuta steps aside and turns to you once more, “You wanna come answer this?” You unplug your bass and stroll to Yuta’s side with the sweetest smile on your face. “Do I share him?” you ask as if it’s the dumbest question you’ve ever heard in your life. It is. You lay your hand flat on his chest, running it all the way down to the waist of his pants. Looping a finger around his belt, you pull him closer and into a kiss deep enough to make you both forget you’re on stage.

When you finally break away, you borrow his mic for a quick announcement. “Our next song is called ‘In Your Fucking Dreams’!” Taking the bra from Yuta, you put it on over your dress. Ever the supportive boyfriend, he clasps it in the back for you and plants another kiss on your lips before you skip back to your spot. 

“Well, then…” Yuta sings, “This is ‘In Your Fucking Dreams’” Mark laughs, strumming his guitar to warm up, “In your fucking dreams, parenthesis, thanks for the new bra.” The crowd cheers, basking in the chaos of it all. You plug your bass back up, ready to shred hard enough that your fingers bleed. You’re pissed, all of the boys know it, but the show must go on. 

There’s no crying in punk rock.

“Are you crying?” Mark asks, spotting you amongst the legions staff shuffling around the halls backstage. “No” you sniffle, wiping the tears from your cheeks, “The lights were just hot and—” He grabs you by the arm, turning you to face him. “You’re a shitty liar. You’re crying. What’s wrong?”

Overhearing the conversation as he passes, Johnny doubles back. “Are you—” Johnny starts but figures it out before he has to speak another word, “Wait, don’t tell me you’re upset about that bra thing.” Feeling cornered, you try to push them aside but they don’t budge an inch. “Look, no. I don’t know. I’m just—fuck just leave me alone okay!” you snap, another wave of tears stinging the corners of your eyes.

Yuta finally catches up, his exhaustion turning to concern when he sees you. If you’re upset, even over the tiniest thing, everything stops for him including the urge to pass out after a show. He takes you by the hand, bringing you into his arms. He’s sticky and wet but his embrace is comforting all the same. “Baby,” he says softly, petting your hair, “What’s going on? Talk to me.” With so many eyes on you, you aren’t quite sure how to admit that Johnny’s right.

You are upset about the bra thing. Upset, embarrassed, angry, hurt — every mixture of things — and you can’t make sense of any of it. “Can we just go back to the hotel?” you ask, gathering whatever composure you have left. Yuta hesitates but gives in when he sees your eyes begging “Please”. “Uh, yeah. You guys—” he sighs, looking to the others. Johnny and Mark nod, getting the hint.

Mark pats him on the shoulder before walking ahead, “Got it, bro. We’ll catch you tomorrow.” Johnny hangs back for a second, leaning in to whisper into your ear, “Don’t worry, he’s so whipped for you. It’s, like, super sad.” Johnny’s comment gets a giggle out of you which is all he needed to feel okay walking away.

Yuta leads you back to the green room where he stays glued to you as you wait for the okay from your manager to leave. You’re relieved when you can finally go, the fresh night air soothing the suffocating feeling that’s been terrorizing you for the past hour. The ride back to the hotel is quiet with most of your time spent zoning out in the kaleidoscope of lights cast on you as you pass the local shops.

You can feel Yuta watching you, his hand firmly and lovingly holding yours, but can’t bring yourself to meet his gaze. Not only are you the only girl in the band, you replaced someone fans already loved. Each night you have to fight for their respect, you knew this already. Now falling for him meant you had to fight for it in more ways than one. The girls will always be there in numbers your brain can’t even fathom, willing to do things that your brain, unfortunately, can fathom in nauseating detail. 

“A girlfriend to a rockstar is like a bicycle to a fish. Fucking useless.” 

That’s what one of the producers had advised him when you were supposed to be in the booth cluelessly recording your portion of a song. Those words crawled into the pit of your stomach, spreading doubt like a disease ever since. 

By the time you’re done spiraling, you’re upstairs seated at the foot of the bed in your hotel room. Contrary to popular belief, your band’s not the type to trash hotel rooms. That’s why you get to book places as beautiful as this with little to no resistance. Everything’s sleek and modern with large three-panel windows that overlook the city. Abstract paintings adorn the walls making it feel more like an art gallery than a place you sleep but the warm overhead lighting saves it from feeling too stuffy.

“Hey, uh, could you shower with me?” Yuta asks, drawing your attention to the bathroom door. It’s only now that you notice the shower running and Yuta standing there in a towel. “I’d shower alone but I have a fear of showers” he adds, “Shower phobia. I’ve had it really bad since I was a kid.” “And Mark says I’m a shitty liar” you tease, flopping back onto the bed.

You can’t see Yuta but you hear him shuffling across the smooth carpeted floor. He stops at your feet, dropping to his knees and laying his head in your lap. Almost on their own, your fingers find a way into his hair and silky strands swirl around them. Yuta breathes in deep, hoping what he says next will soothe you. “You’re enough for me. You know that, right?”

Time seems to freeze and you along with it. Something you love about him, his ability to seemingly always know how you’re feeling, has finally come back to bite you in the ass. Why can’t he just be content pretending nothing happened? 

“Yuta, I—” you say, sitting up enough to catch him staring at you the same way he had in the car. Only this time you don’t dodge his gaze, you let it pull you in. The man looking up at you isn’t the one in the magazines or on stage. There’s no act, only him and a heart pledged to you before you'd even known it. “What happened tonight, I’m sorry” he apologizes, “I can do better. I will.” 

“What? No!” you gasp, bringing you both up so that you’re eye to eye, “Please don’t apologize. That’s not what I wanted.” Still on his knees, Yuta slips his hands beneath your dress, fingers massaging your plush thighs. Touching you isn’t always sexual. Sometimes he just wants to be connected to you. This is one of those times. Feeling your body warm against his palms eases the anxiety knocking around in his head. Even though you’re upset your body still responds with pleasure to him, giving into his touch. That’s how he knows he hasn’t lost you. The day it doesn’t—well, he tries not to imagine that. 

“Do you think I’d cheat on you?” he asks, catching you off guard with his directness. You place a hand on each of his cheeks, squishing them together so his lips purse like the cutest fish you’ve ever seen. Yuta makes little smooching noises and you give him a peck on the lips. “I know you wouldn’t do that” you sigh, relaxing your hold on his cheeks, “But there’s a million girls out there who want you. I’m only one. What if someday you meet a girl and she’s everything you never knew you wanted?”

Yuta says nothing in response, simply staring at you for so long that you want to shake him to see if he’s alive. “There are a million other girls…” he admits, “Which is good for all of the guys I know want you because there’s only one of you and you’re mine.”

“Oh, Yuta, come off it—”

“I’m serious. I don’t give a shit how many girls are out there. You never have to worry about me finding what I never knew I wanted” he promises, gripping your hips to bring you in so tight that your legs are already wrapped around him. His lips brush yours, hitting you with a wicked mixture of chills and hot flashes. “I know who I want,” he whispers, nibbling at your bottom lip, “Who I love. I choose you. No one else. Can you trust that? For me?”

The sincerity in his voice, how it trembles with emotion when he says that he loves you, resonates more than anything he’s ever sung. His hands ease towards your inner thighs and they part for him instantly. The pad of his thumb brushes your clit through your panties and you shudder. “Yes,” you moan between his lips as his mouth captures yours. His kiss is like quicksand, the more you move the faster it drags you in. But there’s nothing to be done about it.

You’re ravenous for each other, your tongues performing an intricate dance that tangles you together. The movement of his thumb against your clit quickens, your hips arching to beg for more. “You love me baby?” he asks, trailing kisses down your chin. Tugging your panties to the side, his fingertips tease the slippery warmth of your entrance. “Yes, I…” you squeak, shivering when his fingers plunge into you, “Love you so much.”

Yuta’s tongue tickles your neck, love bites marking his way to your cleavage. “Tell me I’m yours,” he says, making no attempt to hide how desperate he is to hear you say it. Your walls clench around his fingers. He flexes them in response, the stretch so satisfying that your eyes nearly roll back. “I want you to own it so say it” he urges, pushing in deeper, “Tell me I’m yours.” Your arms come around his neck, your best attempt at staying upright.

“You’re mine. All mine” you moan, the faintest hint of possessiveness peeking through. It’s music to his ears, turning him on to the point that the towel’s virtually useless now in hiding how hard he is. Reaching between your bodies, you take him into your hand to delight in what you’ve done to him. Stroking up and down you feel the blood rushing up his shaft — veins throbbing, his arousal decorating your chipped nail polish.

“Is this mine too?” you joke, teasing the head of his cock with light circular movements. “Fuck, yes. You want it?” he mumbles, his face buried between your tits. He can barely breathe, he’s probably lightheaded, and it’s worth it. Gripping him by the back of the head, you bring him eye to eye with you again. “I want it” you grin, the fullness in your lower belly intensifying.

Yuta sticks his tongue out, curling it to wet his lips. Catching you off guard, he grabs you by the neck and pushes you back on the bed. Keeping you pinned by your neck, his free hand tears your panties to the side. His mouth latches onto your clit, licking and sucking at the sensitive bundle of nerves. You’re completely at his mercy, only able to shake and moan as he devours you. His tongue runs between the petal soft lips of your pussy, your juices the best drink he’s had all night.

“Find someone else?” he scoffs, taking a handful of your belly, “Who else’s pussy tastes this good, hmm?” His tongue slams into you, the hand around your throat bringing you flush against his face.

 “Yuta, oh god — fuck — you can’t say things like that” you whimper, clawing at the sheets.

“Or what?”

Yuta pulls back, his face soaked with your juices, “Is my baby gonna cum if I tell her how good she tastes?” Refusing to wait for your answer, his tongue dips back inside of you. The ridges of your walls glide across his tastebuds, pulsing each time he swirls around and around. He’s relentless, letting up only for quick breaths of air. “So wet and so — mmm — fucking good” he groans, kissing your inner thigh.

When his tongue meets your core again you feel tingling in the tips of your toes and fingers. The tension in your stomach rises, your breaths growing shallow. Yuta releases your neck, locking his arms around your thighs to keep them spread. “That’s it, baby. That’s my girl. Cum for me.”

Pulling his tongue out, he drags it across your clit and sends you crashing over the edge. You throw your hand over your mouth, suppressing the incoherent moans that spill from your lips. Yuta snatches your hand away, holding you by the wrist just in time to hear those last few moans escape. Not missing a beat, he hops up and brings your limp body with him.

Disoriented, the rubbing of your thighs against your core causing some aftershock, you struggle to gain your footing. “You’re trying to kill me” you pout, leaning on him for support. “Why would I do that?” he asks, putting on his best innocent face, “We still have 10 more stops on the tour. The label would kill me.” 

“I can’t stand you!” you say, slapping him on the cheek as softly as you can. Yuta winks, pinching you on the ass, “You’ll live. Now about that shower—” Shaking off the post-orgasm brain fog, you manage to hold yourself up enough to lock lips with him. It’s the clumsiest thing. Kissing, caressing, peeling away your clothes. All while blindly making your way to the shower.

You step into the shower first, expecting Yuta to follow immediately after but he stops short just outside of it.

“Were you, like, serious about that shower phobia thing?”

“No,” he laughs, “I just want to look at you for a second if that’s okay.”

Standing alone in the shower, steamy droplets of water running down the curves of your body, you’re pure perfection. A vine of cherry blossoms travels across your left shoulder, riding your love handles, your hips, down your thigh. He knows how long it took to finish that tattoo. All of the tiny gorgeous details missed by the naked eye. It’s been a secret mission of his to explore every aspect of it. And of you. 

The admiration radiates off of him and you find yourself overcome with shyness. “Dude, come on. You’re making me nervous!” you say, hiding behind the shower curtain. Yuta jumps into the shower, hugging you from the side, “Oh my bad, dude. I call you ‘baby’ and I get ‘dude’?” Paying him no mind, you grab the body wash and begin to cover him in rose-scented bubbles.

“Don’t be a brat. I call you other things too. I call you baby—” Your fingers trace his collarbone. “I call you honey—” They travel across his shoulder, drifting down his back. You pause halfway down, “I call you…daddy.” You don’t even try to hide your amusement when your nails press into his lower back and he whimpers. “You—why would you do that?” Yuta asks, knowing very well why.

It does something for him when you call him that. Something that makes him want to tear you apart in the best way. Leaning against the shower wall, you play with his belly button piercing. “Did I do something wrong, d—ah!” Yuta lifts you up, bringing your legs around his waist. Catching your breath, you hold on tight, terrified to fall.

“I didn’t know you could do that.” Yuta giddily shifts your weight like it’s nothing, thrusting into you, “I know.” Still dripping from your last orgasm, he slips in easily. Almost too easily. There’s no teasing, no taking it slow. Every inch of him is buried deep inside of you. You can’t cover your mouth and the shower does nothing to conceal your overstimulated moans.

Yuta bounces you up and down on his cock. The water raining down on you causes a sharp slapping noise when your bodies come together. “Fuck me harder” you beg, knowing it’ll only make the sound louder. Always here to give you what you want, he fucks into you harder and harder. With every thrust you seem to get tighter, your body so needy for him that it can’t let go. 

They say there’s nothing like it. The rush that you get from a concert. Your heart syncing with the violent bashing of the drums. Well, whoever said that, has no fucking idea what they’re talking about.

Yuta presses your legs back, the head of his cock thick and throbbing as he stimulates your sweet spot. “Baby, it feels too good” he pants, knowing he’s on the brink of coming undone. Purposely clenching as tight as you can, you rock your hips down onto him and he can’t hold out any longer. Now this rush? There’s nothing like this.

The fullness as he cums inside of you makes your second orgasm all the more intense when it consumes you. The two of you float in a state of euphoria somewhere between being out of your body and being hyper-aware of it all at once. Kissing you on the neck, Yuta carefully sets you down on your feet. Unable to hold himself up, he sits down in the bathtub. He holds his arms out to you and you make your way down, cuddling up to him.

“I love you, dude” he mocks, tracing the petals on your tattoo. You groan, rolling your eyes, “Yeah, yeah. I love you too.” You share a laugh at your mutual silliness and then…nothing. Only silence. Your breathing. The running of the water. Your heart and his. You may be in the business of noise but together you’ve found meaning in just being. 

“Our band doesn’t really have a concept, you know? We kinda just do what we want. It’s a vibe” Mark explains to the journalist holding a mic way too close to his face.

When your label booked you for a weekend at one of the biggest festivals in the country they failed to tell you that you had interviews lined up. Let alone ones this painfully boring. So here you are, half dressed outside of your tour bus baking in the summer sun with a camera pointed at your faces.

“And vibes are important!” Johnny throws in, “People…they need vibes because without vibes, who are we? Am I right?” Mark stares into the camera, his mind truly blown, “Bro, that’s…deep.” The interviewer nods, pretending that he understood any of that, “Vibes. Right. So you guys are on another level and—”

Just that moment a group of girls pass by behind the camera. Dressed in their skimpiest festival gear, it takes zero effort on their part to reel Mark and Johnny in. “We are so sorry” Mark apologizes, quietly flirting with the girls, “We gotta go get ready for soundcheck.” “Soundcheck, yes! Gotta keep that sound checked” Johnny says, throwing up a peace sign.

As Mark and Johnny ditch the interview to recruit groupies, the interviewer turns to you and Yuta who’ve been praying that he’d forgotten you were there. “Well, uh, I guess it’s just me and the happy couple, huh?” the man asks, plastering on a smile. The two of you are collectively unmoved, though you’re a bit nicer about it than Yuta.

Like a shark, the interviewer smells blood in the water and the mic is in your face next. “Some would say you’re pretty brave dating a rock star. Aren’t you worried someone might try to steal him away?” You and Yuta share a knowing glance before you snatch the mic from the interviewer.

“No. I mean, have you seen me?” you ask, almost glowing as Yuta showers you with kisses, “Next question.” But there is no next question. You hand the mic to Yuta and walk off to avoid saying something you’ll regret. 

“And then there was one. So I’m here with lead singer—”

“Yikes, sorry. I have…interview phobia? Yeah” Yuta lies, beginning to back out of frame before you get too far away. Nearly defeated and totally at a loss, the interviewer tries one more time to bait Yuta back in. “I was hoping we could finish this. Maybe I could ask a few more questions.” Yuta pretends to consider it for dramatic effect. “Better idea, you should pull out your phone and stream our new single ‘Don't Ask My Girlfriend Stupid Shit’.” 

Noticing that Yuta’s still holding onto the microphone, you run back to steal it. “Parenthesis, thanks for the brand new mic, asshole!” you cackle, holding the metallic purple equipment up like a Grammy. You disappear again, this time with some new equipment. Yuta just shrugs, waving goodbye to the camera, “Love of my life.” 

[kykyonthemoon]

Till The Break Of Dawn

That girl was Death, and she came to see me on my twenty-seventh birthday.

── .✦ Zayne (Dawnbreaker) x MC (Female Reader)

── .✦ Tags: oneshot, angst, open ending, multiverse, AU, loops, MC is referred to as "Dawn" in this fic, first pov (Zayne's), side characters: Jas, Astra.

── .✦ Word count: ~3k

── .✦ Ky Ky's note: This fic is for my friend Le Juan, and all the Zayne's girlies out there. Happy Moonlit Orchid Day (or Qixi)! <3

It's also my very first time writing for Dawnbreaker.

── .✦ Masterlist ♡ Request a fic - closed for the time being.

when death

takes my hand

i will hold you with the other

and promise to find you

in every lifetime

— commitment (Rupi Kaur)

Rain. Tiny translucent and frigid particles plummeted into this dark world. The rain fell from the opulent downtown area to the deteriorating, abandoned structures. Under the torrent of water, be it human or monster, it was all the same.

Slow, worn-out steps came to a halt in front of a building that had long since fallen asleep in nature's embrace. Blood trickled over the ground and spread a poisonous tint in the water, yet it had no stain on the pristine white jasmine blossoms flourishing in that desolate place.

Jasmine bid me farewell in my last moments. Perhaps this life was not that dreadful to me after all.

My body crumbled. The rain welcomed me. Cold. The sweet scent of jasmine soared throughout the wind. With my final breath, I extended my hand forward. The hand was smeared with so much blood, from both human and Wanderers, and I knew I was not deserving of it. But I had just the desire to touch it once. My pure jasmine petals.

I had simply sought for one favor; let me dwell in those tranquil dreams with the girl I had always revered.

It appeared as if I heard her voice in the breeze; such melodies to my ears, lulling me into somnolence. I was determined to find her this time, forever.

“Zayne?… Zayne?…”

Someone ran to me from the other side, behind the jasmine bush. She was waiting for me. Just a little more…

“Zayne!”

Her warm fingers connected with mine. I awoke at that very time. Was she calling me, or someone who looked identically to me in the dream?

I opened my eyes and saw her there. She donned a dark robe that swept above the street. She sat down beside me and turned my cold body over. That was her. It was truly her.

Each drop of rain landed on her hair, which had barely emerged from the hood of her cloak, wiping the blood stains from my face. My lips moved silently. I ached to tell her how long I had been waiting for this moment. I had always waited for her. And my wish came true.

That girl was akin to my dream. Her eyes fixed on mine, revealing a mix of astonishment and sadness. But her expression was cold. Where was the brilliant smile that brought luminescence into my otherwise miserable life? I desired it.

Trembling. My fingers moved towards her lips. I begged for her mercy  and to grant me this one wish. Yet she spoke before I could touch her: 

"Zayne." Yes, it was my name. But I knew she was calling me, not the Zayne she had loved in her dream. "Dawnbreaker."

This was the real me, in this world.

"I came here to take you away." Her voice was quite sorrowful. Had I disregarded her with my unkempt appearance and stained hands? This was not the meeting I had hoped for, but I was delighted to have found her. Or it was she who found me.

Winds. The bell chimed midnight. The cold seeped into my thick layers of clothing. The girl's scarlet lips parted again as she drew closer and murmured:

"Take my hand."

She seized mine. There was something in her eyes. Death. Then I suddenly realized something.

That girl was Death, and she came to see me on my twenty-seventh birthday.

It is said that when a person dies, their entire life flashes before their eyes. For me, there was more than just one.

Countless sights that resembled fractured, patched recollections flashed before my eyes. They were my life, yet not really. I knew them well yet felt as if we were complete strangers. I was once a foreseer on the icy throne, I was once a god hidden in the deep mountains, I was once a doctor in the modern day,... Among countless variables, there was only one thing that remained constant: her. 

In each piece of memory, I always found her, my girl. It was always her dying heart, and I was fighting against fate to save her. The instant my life ended, our jasmine flower withered. Then everything went back to where it started.

As midnight was also the time when a new day began.

At first, I could not comprehend what was happening. Everything happened in the same order: I met her, loved her, she was going to die, and I sacrificed my life for her. Our identities might differ, and our decisions might not be precisely the same, yet the ending never changed. I began to vaguely feel that a certain hand had intervened in the flow of our life, driving her and me to follow such a predetermined path.

And suddenly I was Dawnbreaker. In this life, I failed to find her. I had always assumed she just existed in my fantasies. It was not until my death that I discovered she had been seeking for me all along.

When I opened my eyes again, I was in the midst of a thriving jasmine garden. A person's fuzzy shadow appeared ahead of me. At first, I believed it was her, yet as I drew closer, I noticed it was a boy who seemed quite familiar.

"Georgie?"

No, that was not Georgie. The boy with that name had abruptly vanished before my eyes. The individual standing here was someone else who resembled Georgie.

"Hello, Zayne." The small child spoke. I had no idea who he was. However, I got the feeling that we had known each other for a long time, since innumerable lifetimes ago.

"I'm not Georgie." The boy added. "I only took the shape of someone you used to know so that I could communicate to you without causing any disturbance in this reality. If you don't like it, I can turn into a snowflake, a cat or something else.”

“You are?”

"Jas." He responded. "I am Jas. Perhaps you forgot about me. But I remember you, and her."

The name rang like a bell, reawakening something that had been asleep inside me. I asked:

“She… And you. Have we known each other before?”

Jas grinned mysteriously. “Shouldn't all the answers be right in front of you at this point?”

“Who are you exactly?”

The child went around the garden like a butterfly. A moment later, he replied:

“I am nobody. I am merely an illusion created by her and you a long, long time ago.”

“So… this garden is also an illusion?”

“It's all an illusion.” Jas replied. “This garden and all the flowers here are.”

I looked around. Each blooming jasmine brought back memories of a lifetime spent with her. I found myself ready to ask Jas a few questions about the flowers, but as if reading my thoughts, he immediately replied:

"That's right. Every jasmine here represents a life you once shared with her.”

I cast a gaze across the seemingly endless garden. There was no evidence of the girl anywhere. I wanted to find her, to call her name. Yet, I had no comprehension of what she was dubbed in this life.

"She is Death. In this realm, she has no name." Jas said as if he could read the thoughts written on my face. "But you may call her anything you want. She permits you to."

Hence, from that moment on, I decided that she would be my Dawn.

Dawn represented Death in this world. Her duty was to send the deceased to their proper resting place. She had seen me in the abandoned street, where I drained a soul out of torment before they were hauled into eternal darkness, and their body became a monster. She was always watching me, yet I could only see her when life left me. Dawn, like me, had spent her countless existences in this garden. 

Jas spoke again, directing my attention back to him:

“Stop looking. She's not here. But before you go mad and run to find her, listen to the remainder of the story first. Shall we?”

I had no alternative since Jas began shortly before I could say anything. Following along the boy's footsteps, I felt as if I were lost in another garden similar to this one, but in a distant timeline.

In the past, this jasmine garden was once the residence of a goddess. Although she was merely a minor deity, her fate was tied to the survival of that world. That divine being was Dawn.

She was born from the purest energies of heaven and earth. That was why, with each cycle, she would have to sacrifice her life, offering her flesh and blood to continue nourishing that world. Then she would be reincarnated in her former body, forgetting all about her previous life. Just as the end of day gives way to darkness, and the breaking of dawn marks the start of a new day.

Things were always going to be like this, then one day, she fell in love.

The person she loved was chosen by Astra - the god of creation - to inherit his power and pass on his will to humanity. She was originally sent by Astra to assist him in training, but in the end, she proved to be his greatest challenge.

"Zayne…" She cried out his name, the person who had always been at her side. They traveled the world together, battled side by side, and defended each other. In the end, they arrived at Mt. Eternal, which marked the boundary between the human and divine realms. Overcoming many obstacles, they learned the mystery that Astra had kept concealed for so long.

Astra, the deity that Dawn considered her father, turned out to want nothing more than to take away the power of heaven and earth that she possessed. Every time she died, he became stronger by taking her energies. Every time she reincarnated, he would bring her back and care for her as if she were his daughter, earning her trust until she ultimately sacrificed herself for a false greater cause. But in this existence, she met Zayne.

"If divine power can't protect those important to me, then I shall need nothing from it."

Zayne had made a decision. Dawn went with him to search for Astra, pretending that he would personally sacrifice her as a present to him while they plotted for the murder of the god. However, they were unaware that they were sliding into Astra's predetermined trap.

How did both of his instruments slip out of his grasp so easily? Astra separated the two, robbed their memories and encased those in jasmine. The new Zayne and Dawn began a new life, unaware of each other and with no memory of their preceding love.

But they still found each other. The thread of fate had long ago bound both of them. Dawn, like in her previous life, must die in accordance with Astra's wishes. And Zayne was always trying to save her. The moment he surrendered his life for hers, the flow of time halted. The entire world came to an abrupt end, then it started all over again.

Astra experimented thousands and thousands of times. The jasmine garden housed every existence of the star-crossed lovers, trapping them eternally in the cycle of love and death. They appeared to have discovered this secret after their first few lifetimes. Every time the flow of time was reestablished, their memories were erased. However, simply encountering each other again caused them to fall in love anew; and whether Zayne remembered or forgot, he would always give his life to the one he loved.

"Don't cry…" Zayne was lying in her arms. He was standing before her. He was leaning onto her shoulder... Their circumstances would alter, but there was always that final moment when she wept and grasped his hand.

They had just recently retrieved some recollections of their past lives before being forced to part ways again.

"Don't cry…" This time, Zayne had her in his arms. His back was against the debris of the collapsed research room. The blanket of snow sprayed over, bringing chilling temperatures. They were on Mt. Eternal in another timeline. Yet even this time, Zayne gave up his life to save Dawn.

She shook her head, tears flowing. They were so close to discovering the truth they had been seeking for so long. They had almost broken this curse of eternal reincarnation. Yet in the end, Astra was one step ahead.

"Hold my hand…" Zayne clasped hers. Death reached his remaining arm and froze it. "As long as you hold my hand like this… I will be able to find you… in the next life…"

"Do you promise?"

"Yes…"

Zayne had not once broken his vow to her. However, if she did not truly die, Astra could not obtain the power he sought. The jasmine garden grew wider with each new life and reboot. He must put an end to this.

As a result, he designed a life in which she became Death, and Zayne could only find her at his very last breath.

"Astra believes that if you die before meeting her, you won't be able to die for her anymore."

Jas' voice sounded out. We returned to the Jasmine Garden. Although the location was the same, this was not Astra's first garden. Dawn and I had poured our powers into this garden. Many eons ago, we had uncovered Astra's secret and secretly created this place as a safe haven away from the wicked deity. Jas was the spirit that guarded the garden and guided Dawn and me back here anytime we recalled something critical. Dawn discovered Jas before I did.

"There were two mistakes Astra made." He said. "First, he tried to control and take her power, unaware that each time she was reborn, the energy source within her grew stronger as well. Second, he was naive to believe he could separate the two of you. Even if you can't see her, the bond between you two still exists in a different way.”

At that point, I instantly realized something. "Our dreams?"

"That's right." Jas confirmed. "Even if the person you dreamed about was an alternate version of her, it seemed like all the versions in all of your lives knew each other in one way or another. She, as Death, has always dreamed of you and sought you out."

I halted to reflect on what I had just discovered, or recalled.

"Zayne, listen... Astra made another great mistake. That is giving her the status of Death. It implies she now has your life in her hands.

"Does that mean this time, she saved me?"

Jas' nod reaffirmed my doubts, my fears. "You should have died and Astra could have her again... However, she utilized the power of Death to stop your time. Zayne, you are still alive."

I already knew that. The truth was, my life only begun when she arrived.

"I have to find Dawn."

"Wait." Jas spoke up. Almost immediately, vines from the garden seized my limbs. "You cannot go yet."

"Why?"

"She used all of her current power to prevent you from dying. If Astra finds you, she will no longer be able to defend you. She brought you here to keep you safe, Zayne."

Dawn wanted to confront Astra alone. I expected this when old memories resurfaced. I told Jas:

“Then it’s another reason to find her. I cannot bear to lose her again.”

I strained with the vines that were becoming increasingly tight around me, even using Evol to break free of them.

At that point, the garden started to tremble severely. The pure blue sky above broke into fragments and decreased. The jasmine petals detached from the stems, drifted in the air and eventually vanished.

"Jas?"

“I have… completed my mission…” His voice seemed to resonate from far away. His entire body perished before my eyes. “I exist… so that one day… you and she can… find what you've lost… Now… you both have made your own decisions… So I will… disappear… and return… the source of power that you both… gave me before… But remember… If you and she fail in… this timeline… there will be no more Jas, no more… jasmine garden…”

Jas in front of me appeared as surreal as a mist. I knew I had to find Dawn before Astra made a move on her. This was the last chance we had.

“Go, Zayne… I can only… help you get to… her…”

In the middle of the garden, an archway made of plants and jasmine opened. I hurled myself through it, not forgetting to gaze back at the smiling boy Jas, whose body transformed into thousands of jasmine petals before vanishing.

I heard Dawn whisper to me at that moment of life and death: 

“This time, I will protect you…” 

My hand reached out to where she was waiting. My chest ached as I screamed with everything I had:

“Dawn, take my hand!”

And I awoke. Rain splashed over my face. Cold. I was lying on the roadside next to a jasmine with each flower falling and gently dissolving in the water. 

I lifted myself up. In the black of night, I went after her traces. I knew she was so close to me. I knew she was calling my name. And the world would awaken at dawn, once again.

I will find you, in every lifetime.

[queenendless]

WELCOME HOME

A/n: Short fic. Cause I miss my bird baby. AU TIME based off World Heroes Mission. Hawks/Keigo Takami x Adult!Fem!Reader.

DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGARIZE, COPY, EDIT, AND/OR STEAL MY FANFIC WORK. If you enjoy my fan content, then reblog, like, comment, n follow pls n thnx u.

Keigo Takami.

The #2 Hero.

The Winged man that goes too fast in his line of work and in life.

Yet every time he stops by your place; your shared place, he goes at a somewhat normal pace. The norm of being with you made him want to relish in every moment spent together.

Letting the balcony doors open to let out the steam of cooking was one thing. Being his personal doorway in was the better fun option.

The place was always cozy and warm when it's you two.

But dating a pro means lots of patrols, late nights handling cases, and dangerous missions facing criminals and villains from all walks of life.

Like right now.

The worldwide operation of defeating the terrorist cult organization Humarise from activating their Trigger bombs designed to release gas that drives all Quirk users who inhale the gas to go berserk as their chemically enhanced powers toxically overwhelm them.

The World Heroes Association mobilized heroes around the world to seize those bombs along with every member and ally of the group.

Thankfully, the bombs were defused.

The world was averted from disaster.

Despite the official reports the news covered on the event, in your heart, you knew there was more to it.

So you felt your heart soar over the moon when the sight of red and yellow was caught from the corner of your eye by the balcony.

“Hey baby bird.”

Standing right there outside, he bowed to you, a gloved hand offered to you.

“Miss me?”

Your feet moved on their own. Water clouded your eyes. He caught your running self jumping into his arms with ease, swinging you side by side, gently squeezing you in kind.

“I did.” You mumbled in his neck, kissing his skin showing there, feeling his warm beating pulse against your lips.

“I missed you too. So damn much.” His stubbled chin brushed your cheek before planting several smooches there.

The anxious tension filling his heart ever since this Humarise operation began would not rest until he saw you again with his own eyes. And it did.

“Congrats on the success of your mission.” Your proud smile beamed up at him, earning a blush tinting his ears, his neck, and his cheeks.

His bashful grin rewarded you. “Thanks. It was a worldwide team effort, though.”

“I love you Kei.” Your tight squeeze of a hug made your birdman wheeze out at the surprising strength it held.

His wings surrounded you as he squeezed you right back. “I love you too, Y/n.”

You two would spend the remainder of the night cuddling, a comfy blanket shared by you both, as you let the TV run in the background, until you both finally conked out.

Tonight he got to spend with you safe and sound in his arms at last.

[kooktrash]

love lies | jeon jungkook [1]

summary: an arrogant womanizer who’s spent his life numb to love. an unlovable romantic who’s been hurt one too many times. he’s your friend’s ex boyfriend but he tells you he wants you. he’s obsessive and you’re not as much of a victim as you make yourself out to be. you’ll both do whatever it takes to get what you want.

warnings: 14.3k. angst. smut. future yandere jungkook. college student au. rich kid jungkook. f!reader. unhealthy attachment.. slutshaming. toxic friendships. implied emotional trauma from both ends. you want to be loved [cassie howard tease]. jungkook is obsessive. both are toxic, one just shows it more. daddy issues/mommy issues. jungkook dated your friend. stalking. unprotexted sex. my boy can go to to town. multiple orgasms. slight degradation. riding. oral [f recieving] missionary. love bites. and probs a lot more warnings. series. MINORS DNI

part one is acc pretty soft compared to how the rest of the chapters will go

| next

He never considered himself the type to be so easily swooned. A man with looks, charm, and money never had difficulty choosing who and what he wanted. He’s not sure he’s ever been told no whether it be for something as small or big of a want. It’s been an easily life, a spoiled one that made him think he can have and do whatever he wanted.

And it was true to some extent. He’s soaring through University with not-so-great grades, he’s got a high paying position in his father’s architecture company waiting for him, he’s never short of women. He’s a man who knows how to get what he wants and makes sure he always gets it. What else could he have wanted? To keep it simple, you.

You’re not a stranger nor a familiar but he knows that what he’s experiencing right now, he’s never experienced before. There’s a ringing in his ears he swears were similar to bells. A feeling in his chest bubbling up almost causing him pain but in the most blissful way possible. It’s that feeling in your heart where it feels a sudden ache when reacting to something in a positive way. It’s almost like the same tug on your heartstrings when you’re broken but it’s opposite. Like reading a love letter and your heart seems to drop in joy. That’s the only way he can explain what he felt when he saw you again.

The world seemed to stop spinning. Everyone froze in blurs of faceless people. The only person in focus was you, under red and blue hues that danced across your face like sneak peaks into your entire beauty. Small peaks into the shape of your eyes under shadow, the curve of your lips as you spoke, the hips hugged perfectly by a pretty skirt. His heart skipped a beat when a light shone above almost like a spotlight aimed right at you for him to see. It seemed like you and him were the only ones living in the present. The only ones in clarity among the phases of people with no focus. Had you always had this magnetic pull? He remembered always thinking you were attractive but never like this.

At one single moment, his eyes trailed from your heeled feet up the length of your legs to the end of your minidress. Your hips next and then your waist, to your bust up the valley of your neck and to your lips. The bridge of your nose and then finally your eyes. A pair of hypnotizing eyes staring back at him yet you speak to another. The same eyes he’d stare at through the course of his brief encounters with you and yet it was never this intense. He always knew you were around but this time you were front and center in his mind.

Everyone unfroze but he didn’t notice. His eyes locked on yours as you walked and talked to whoever was next to you. It couldn’t have been more than a couple seconds but it felt like an eternity. And when you finally pulled your gaze away from him as if there hadn’t been such an intensity burning through both your gazes. He could feel the burn in his eyes as they threatened to water but he blindly let them follow after the ghost of you through the crowd. His lips slightly parted in complete awe. He didn’t think of anything else but your moving head through the crowded bodies pressed against each other. There wasn’t an ounce of focus on the people he came with. His foot lifted, mid-step forward ready to take the lead and go after you.

A hand hit his arm in a gentle but firm pat on his shoulder. It seemed to snap him out of a trance he hadn’t known he was in. His head whipping over to the source who only flashed him a wide grin holding a brown liquor in his cup. Jung Hoseok laughed at Jungkook’s blank and off-guard expression and shook him by the shoulder, “You okay there? You zoned out on us.”

Jungkook couldn’t bring himself to even think about what his friend had just asked him. The other two joined them waiting for his response and yet he didn’t give one. Instead he turned toward the general area he’d seen you in and left. He could hear them snicker behind him as to what his deal was but he didn’t care. His drink was brought to his mouth by his tatted hand as his eyes locked on your location chugging back the liquor before dropping the cup on the floor.

You were at the bar, head hung low listening to another girl say things into your ear. He knew you both and you knew him too. Jungkook slid in easily as the person on the stool next to yours emptied and he took ownership. Your friend noticed him first but he kept his gaze forward like he was just waiting to order a drink. His black and gray Dior button-up rolled up to his elbows exposing a forearm covered in intricate ink. His credit card was black with a gold lining and a gold emblem on the cover and he tapped it against the counter.

“Let’s go Y/n, there’s unwanted company,” your friend said as Jungkook told the bartender his order while simultaneously easedropping. He couldn’t help the upward curl of his lips in a smirk that was neither impressed or offended. “Namjoon invited his friend out tonight to meet you. Why don’t you just give him a chance? They’re waiting for us in our section.”

Jungkook couldn’t help the way his jaw tensed. He couldn’t have you leaving to another guy right now that he’s attempting to approach you. As if reading his mind, you shook your head no in an answer, not giving her anything more in a form of response and yet it was enough for her to understand. You didn’t want to do anything at the moment but sit at this bar alone. You looked up to Jungkook releasing a heavy sigh when you recognized him and turned your chair away from him even more. Fine, is that how you want to play?

Your friend seemed to hesitate at your silent response. She wanted to push for you to go with but there was nothing leaving her lips. Instead she nodded looking at everyone around you before turning to leave. You watched her go for a moment probably deep in thought before turning to face the bar. Jungkook could practically feel the soft sigh that escaped your lips on his skin. A warm fan of air that he’s not sure how he felt but he did. Goosebumps rose on his skin and her he couldn’t understand what he was feeling right now.

He’s never felt this intense attraction toward anyone in his life. He’s floated through life seemingly bored. No excitement, no change and he never realized how boring it all seemed until recently. Where’s the joy of having to work for something? What happens to someone who’s always had his way? It’s exhausting. No fight. No questions. Any woman he’s wanted, he’s managed to bed and then he throws them away like it was nothing. Every opportunity he’s been given he’s never had to work for it. He’s never had to think for himself and he’s never known struggle. The strangest part is that he knew you, not well but he did. He’s spent time at your apartment, he’s made out with your friend on your couch. He’s dumped that friend of yours when someone better came along and yet here he was trying to talk to you. You clearly seemed upset about something but that only intrigued him more. He wanted to know why your feelings were so displayed on your sleeve at the moment. It was weird to him, to see someone so open with how they felt but he knew he was the problem and not whatever you felt. Your feelings are not numb like his and maybe that’s why he felt such excitement locking his gaze with yours just moments before. In your eyes he could see every emotion he’s never felt.

“Excuse me,” his eyes seemed to roll to the back of his head, breath heavy as he inhaled deeply at the sound of your voice. It wasn’t soft but it wasn’t harsh. Had your voice always had this effect on him? Why wouldn’t you even look at him? It was a melody he couldn’t quite put his finger on but something that sent electricity dancing across his skin. You weren’t even talking to him and yet he felt every syllable vibrating through his bones. You looked to the bartender who seemed to ignore you and your bottom lip was dragged between your teeth as they sunk into the soft flesh clearly defeated. You raised a hand out trying to get her attention once more but you couldn’t grab it.

“Hey,” he called out firmly, attention drifting to him as the bartender came over with a flirty smile. He looked down at her unamused as he motioned with his tipped head in your direction, “She needs something.” The bartender seemed almost disappointed when he directed her to you instead of asking for something himself. On another day, another night, he might’ve played along. He might’ve flirted a bit just because he knew it made women’s heart beat faster and yet he wasn’t doing that tonight. Instead he’s looking to you again as you met his gaze with a skeptical one.

“What?” The girl asked in a demanding tone that had you shrinking back with clear confusion at her hostility toward you when she’d just been smiling at the handsome man next to you. No, Y/n, you’re drinking, remember who he is and keep your distance. Jungkook glared at her as if equally offended by her tone of voice used against you. Couldn’t she see that you were hurt over something Jungkook barely understood due to your friend? Couldn’t she see how vulnerable you were at the moment. It made his skin crawl with a sudden anger he’d never felt before.

She seemed to roll her eyes at your hesitance before repeating your response, “Just a water?” You gave a simple nod and she was shoveling into the ice before bringing you your ice water. You thanked her and she left flashing one last look toward Jungkook but he didn’t even react. His face was cold, emotionless and unamused.

“Hey,” it was barely an audible sound that could’ve gone unnoticed if Jungkook hadn’t been painstakingly aware of your entire existence just inches away from him. All thoughts of his friends and the poor girl he’d pick to take home tonight completely out of his head. You pulled your hair behind your ear and he only caught a glimpse of the action from his peripheral. You finally spoke again and this time he allowed his eyes to fully follow you, “What do you want Jungkook?”

“Is that how you thank someone who just did you a favor? If I didn’t help you, who knows when you would’ve been helped,” he said almost in a flirting manner but he was still trying to keep it under wraps. You rolled your eyes in annoyance but Jungkook couldn’t find it in him to be upset over it. You looked at him again, “Nobody asked you to do any favors.”

“And yet I did,” he said with a taunting smile that only seemed to annoy you more. He bit his lip, his piercing moving with the action and he looked down at you, “So why don’t you tell me what’s wrong.”

“Why do you care?” You asked clearly exasperated. He let out a sigh, “Because I hate seeing pretty g—“

“I see you’re still insufferable to be around,” you said with a roll of your eyes, you did not want to deal with Jungkook at the moment. Jungkook smirked, “And yet you’re still here talking to me.”

You couldn’t help but scoff, one foot on the floor already as you began getting down from the stool. You pushed against the bar for support but before you could truly get away his hand was going to your waist, more specifically your midsection. He was smiling, “Oh come on. Sit with me for a bit. I haven’t seen you in a while and I’m just curious. How’s Soomin?”

You sighed. You’re not sure why you’re still talking to him but you weren’t making a move to leave, “Good question, when you find out feel free to let me know.” His brows furrowed in confusion, how could you not know how your own friend is doing? He licked his lips in thought, “Why wouldn’t you know? I thought you were supposed to be her bestest friend.”

“Yeah well I thought so too,” you told him honestly turning to look at him as you twirled your straw around in your cup. He looked back at you with an expression you couldn’t read. Of course you knew Jungkook and you knew what kind of person he was. When you saw him tonight you didn’t expect for him to actually come over and talk to you. It wasn’t like you were friends or even close enough to talk and yet here he was and here you were. His brows furrowed in confusion, “You don’t talk anymore?”

“Well you see, after you ghosted her for no reason, she started shutting us out,” you told him with slight attitude. You’re still friends but she’s definitely distanced herself from everyone. Even if you’re not close with Soomin anymore you remember how hurt she was when Jungkook just stopped talking to her. They only dated for six months but Soomin had been in love apparently. Jungkook was arrogant and honestly hard to be around but Soomin loved him. Then one day, he just stops talking to her. He doesn’t respond to her calls or texts. He doesn’t let her into his apartment, he doesn’t stop to talk to her when she stalks him at work. He was just done with her and never gave her a reason for it. Obviously at the time you were still friends with her so it was easy to hate Jungkook. Yet here he was talking to you when Soomin wouldn’t. He didn’t even bother defending himself for ghosting your friend. Frankly he didn’t care. He had reasons for it anyway.

“Alright, now tell me why you’re upset tonight,” he changed the subject with no regard to the previous topic, “And don’t tell me you aren’t because you clearly looked it when Yeonwoo was with you.” You rolled your eyes at him drinking the rest of your water. You weren’t standing anymore so there was no reason for his hand to still be on you to keep you put but you didn’t have the energy to argue with him over it. It’s not like he was a complete stranger but he was your ex best friend’s ex. It still felt weird. His hand rested on your lower back keeping you close to him.

He had been attracted to you since the jump if he was being honest. It was one of those ‘chose the wrong friend’ sort of moments but there was nothing he could do about it. He had already been dating Soomin so there was no way to make a move on you. So, instead he shoved you in the back of his mind but he always was too aware of you whenever everyone gathered together. Now, tonight it was like a new awakening for him. He hadn’t seen you in months and for good reason since he ghosted Soomin without a single care and it was no surprise all of Soomin’s friends hated him for it. What he didn’t expect was for him to run into you tonight and remember how he used to feel attracted to you but this time around it was about ten times stronger.

“Why should I tell you?” You asked and though usually he’d be turned off by a girl’s abrasiveness he found himself smiling. He’d never admit but the reason he dated Soomin was because of how easy it was to get her to stay with him. He could do whatever he wants and with a little gaslighting she’d be the one apologizing to him. He liked his partners like that. It’s just more proof that he’ll get what he wants with no consequences. He didn’t even stutter in thought before speaking, “Because I’m asking?” You sighed, “Fine. I was dumped. Happy?”

Yes. Yes he was if this was the same guy he remembered you going through your talking stage with just earlier this year when he was still dating Soomin. The first time he met him Jungkook already didn’t like him. He was too eager to please you and it just proved to Jungkook that the guy didn’t have a backbone. Jungkook just nodded in acknowledgement, “Did he tell you why?”

Yeah, what a hypocrite. As if he ever told Soomin why he ghosted her but this was different. This was you. You scoffed looking away from him, “Why do you wanna know? So you could take notes and figure out how to properly break up with someone?”

“Oh I know how to end things when I want to,” he said ignoring your sarcastic tone as his hand touched the hem of your skirt where your back dipped in a little where you spine didn’t meet the waist band. The small gap giving him perfect space to let his pinky rest inside. He was closer now and you knew it. You should’ve moved away, gone back to Yeonwoo and her man, Namjoon but you didn’t. You were tired of hearing Yeonwoo argue with you over your poor taste in men. Why you kept falling for losers? Who knows. What you do know is that Yeonwoo would kill you if she still found you talking with Jungkook. You’re supposed to share a mutual hatred for him even if you only spoke to Soomin on occasion. It was girl code.

“So are you gonna move your hand or am I gonna have to make you?” You didn’t mean for it to come out in a flirty tone. To be honest, you were aiming for threatening but the smile that fell on Jungkook’s face told you it was anything but. His thumb began to caress your back taunting you, “That depends. How do you plan on making me?”

“I don’t go for my friend’s exes,” you said suddenly, no need to beat around the bush when you can feel Jungkook’s intentions. He leaned toward you a little more, daring himself to see how far he could go before you pushed him away. You probably should just ditch him but you’ve always thought Jungkook was attractive and he was giving you attention, unwanted or not, you thrive on attention. His was face was close to yours now, practically tasting you on his tongue but he didn’t make a move just yet. Instead, he said, “Good thing you’re not friends anymore.”

“You’re not my type,” you lied leaning back a little, that same pretty smile was back on his face. His nose brushing against yours as a sign to how close the two of you were. You should not be doing this but you can’t help it. The broken person inside of you, always eager to give into a man, was starting to come out. He let his lips skim over yours but never pressing them together, “Really? Because I don’t believe you.”

“That’s fine. You don’t have to,” you said just above a whisper trying to turn your face away as a last effort to hold onto the small amount of self respect you have left. Don’t fall into the tricks of your friend’s ex. You know too much about their relationship to be this stupid. He wasn’t a terrible boyfriend but he wasn’t a good one either, clearly. “Kiss me,” he whispered in a husky voice unable to contain himself. He’s been thinking about your soft lips since the second he saw you tonight. It was like a sign from the universe. Just when he’d been living his life without a single thought about Soomin—the occasional thought about you—and just doing his own thing, you come back into his life. Practically served to him on a platter of red and blue. The music playing around you two blurred into the background along with everyone and you couldn’t help yourself anymore.

You were hesitant at first but with a simple, uncertain nod in agreement, he acted before he could stop himself. His hand cupped the side of your face gently and he did most of the moving, as tender as he could manage despite being lust-driven, he let his lips meet yours in the softest touch. You jumped like a startled lamb about to be eaten by a lion but after the short shock, your lips were meeting his efforts and kissing him back. You can’t believe you were kissing your old friend’s ex like it was the most normal thing in the world—especially after knowing how he treated her.

He physically crumbled into your touch, letting himself press even closer against you trapping you on his stool and against the bar counter. Your hand raised to touch his face, startled by the cold metal hitting against your lip but you didn’t move away. You let him take ownership of your mouth for the moment, a hand coming down to your waist in hunger before letting his tongue slide along your parted lips. Your tongue swiped along his and he audibly groaned into your touch and just as the hand gripping the fabric of your skirt was pulling you into him, someone was yanking you back.

“Ow!” You winced alarming him as he glared at the intruder in who just pulled on your arm forcefully. There Yeonwoo stood looking anything but pleased, “Fuck no, not on my watch.”

“Don’t pull her like that,” Jungkook cut in trying to reel in his anger from snapping at her as his gentle hand never pulled away from your face. She turned a fierce glare at him that he stared back with as she scoffed, “Fuck off Jungkook. We all know you’re a piece of shit. Y/n’s just drunk so she’s not thinking straight. What do you even want with her?”

“Am I supposed to care what you think?” Jungkook asked bitterly, “Why don’t you go worry about your boyfriend and get the fuck out? Y/n’s a big girl, you don’t need to speak for her.” You sighed, already fed up as they started a back-and-forth. You knew this was a bad idea and it was giving you a headache. Even worse, you don’t even regret it.

“Actually I do,” Yeonwoo argued though it wasn’t in your favor, “I’m not letting her make the same mistake with you as Soomin did—“

“Jesus Christ, it was just a kiss!” You stood suddenly making him pull back. You looked between them both, “And you’re both annoying the hell out of me so I’m going home.”

“I’ll drive you,” Jungkook rushed out but you raised a hand to stop him. “Don’t.” Yeonwoo gave him a smug look as you started walking away, neither one going after you knowing you were already annoyed. Jungkook raised his middle finger at her mouthing a quick ‘fuck you’ as he left in the other direction.

When the two of you are dating he’ll convince you to ditch her. She’s a bitch, controlling, and she’s always treated you like you were stupid. So did Soomin. You were always the one getting picked on because you fell in love to easily but he always thought that was the best thing about you. Even when he’d just observe you from his position as Soomin’s boyfriend, he knew you were a romantic. He considered himself one too but all the girls he’d been with would probably disagree. How’s he supposed to explain to them that it’s because they just weren’t worth expressing himself over. He didn’t love them, especially not Soomin, so he wouldn’t treat them like he did.

It’ll be different with you. He just knows it. The electrifying moment he saw you tonight and then the short but passionate kiss told him so.

“God, I still can't believe you'd kiss that dickhead. You’re lucky I stopped you before you made an even bigger mistake," your friend, Yeonwoo, said a few days after the night at the club. You were supposed to be shopping but instead you were just skipping through every hanger on the clothes rack without paying attention. This was the third time she's brought it up since then, "This is why you're always getting your heart broken. You fall for guys too easily and then what happens? You cry because you got dumped. You know Jungkook ain’t shit and yet you make out with him as if he didn’t just ghost Soomin out of the blue? God, how could you?”

"Yup, thanks for the reminder, really appreciate it," you said with a roll of your eyes. You didn't even try and deny it. You did. It wasn't your fault, okay? You've had a rough upbringing and your only coping mechanism is falling in love too easy seeking male validation because it's something you didn't have growing up. Why you fall for complete losers is a wonder to you too. You've gone through more relationships at the tender age of 22 then most people have in their life but it's really not your fault. You believe a guy too easily when they lovebomb you only to be complete pieces of shit. Not your proudest moments but what else is a romantic supposed to do? Of course you've been slutshamed time and time again for all your relationships but you don't know how to change your fate. Yeonwoo released a sigh when she noticed you were zoning out on her, “Soomin texted me last night. She wants to get drinks with us and Yoongi.”

“She didn’t text me,” you said with a shrug. You and Soomin had been close since the summer after your high school graduation. You met her through Yeonwoo and it was always obvious she was closer with her. It didn’t mean she didn’t care for you but you were always on the side of whatever friendship they had until Soomin distanced herself from Yeonwoo. You’re used to being second choice and even though all your time is spent with Yeonwoo, you know you’ll be ditched by your friends too. Especially if Yeonwoo tells her Jungkook kissed you.

What happened the other night was embarrassing but you didn't regret it. Whatever, it was just one kiss and though he’s currently texting you asking to meet up, you wouldn’t. You had enough respect to not do it again. He wasn’t a good guy to Soomin and that’s that they were dating. How’d he treat you when you’re nothing to him? You know she’s mad at you for doing that with Jungkook but you also know that’s not the only reason why. She's really just mad you didn't give her boyfriend's friend a chance because you were too distracted. You agreed to meet up with Taehyung again and actually be engaged in talking with hm but only because Yeonwoo begged you to. You looked down at your phone, it was the third time it rang and Yeonwoo was getting fed up, “Who’s calling you so damn much? I swear to God Y/n if it’s Jungkook then you’re the biggest idiot I’ve ever met.”

“Right because I have control over who calls me? Plus, it’s not him,” you said making her eyes roll. She left your side to head into the fitting room with a pile of clothes on her arm and you told her you’d wait outside. With an annoyed groan you got you phone, “What do you want?”

“To see you,” Jungkook said simply as he headed to the parking lot of his campus. It was past sunset but he had a class that had been pushed back so he was just getting out. Now, more than ever, did he wish he went to the same University as you. Usually he liked dating girls who he didn’t have to run into often. Girls from different schools, different cities, different circle of friends. It just made it so much more easy when he left them because then he didn’t have to deal with their crying faces begging for him to take them back. He never did anyway, unless it was for an easy fuck.

“Who says I want to see you?” You asked slightly annoyed as you looked to the fitting room so Yeonwoo didn’t catch you on the phone with the exact person she suspected had been calling you, “Besides, how do you know I’m not busy?”

He found himself smiling even if you were being too difficult for his liking. He’s used to girls just giving into him. He doesn’t remember the last time he had to put effort into wanting to see someone, usually he’d send a quick text and his needs would be met. He bit his lip to stop his smile, “My answer to both your questions is, wishful thinking?”

You rolled your eyes though you couldn’t lie and say you didn’t smile but that just annoyed you even more, “Is that all you want to say? Cause I’m shopping right now with Yeonwoo.”

He couldn’t help but pout a little as he opened the door to his car, “Let me see you.”

“Jungkook I—“

"I've gotta go back to campus when we're done, do you work tonight?" Yeonwoo said suddenly as she swung the door to the dressing room making you jump in surprise nearly dripping your phone in the process. You quickly recovered turning your phone away no longer thinking about Jungkook who was still on the line. "No, but I've got a lot of assignments to do so I'll definitely need to stop for some coffee and go home." You looked down at your phone, hanging up quickly as the two of you went to go to the checkout line.

"Hey Y/n," Yeonwoo called out to you as the two of you left the store. You turned to wait for her, "I'm not trying to be a bitch, but I'm just tired of seeing you get hurt. I'm your best friend so I can't just sit back and watch you cry every time someone dumps you."

The two of you barely made it out before you got a text. To be honest, you had actually forgotten you had Jungkook’s number. It was from months ago when he was still dating Soomin. For a while Soomin didn’t have a phone since she’d lost it on a night out. Jungkook let her use his phone for about a week or so you saved his number and he saved yours. In reality, she asked Jungkook to help her get a new phone but he said no even though he had enough money in his bank account to pay for one in full. Even if she couldn’t afford one during that time, Jungkook still didn’t let her use his phone often unless it was to text you or Yeonwoo.

It’s strange to him actually. He’s only now realized how much he used to pay attention to you. He knows he’d keep you in the back of his mind but it was never this intense. He just thought you were attractive and that had been it—or so he thought. Maybe the night of the club when he first saw you after months, hadn’t been his awakening to wanting you. Maybe it had always been there and he just didn’t notice.

How could he not remember the way he used to stalk your social media around Soomin, zooming in on your face, checking your likes, all of it. How he used to ask her who she’d be hanging out with and he’d only ever say he’d join her if he knew you’d be there. Hell, he had completely forgotten the way he’d reread the texts you and Soomin shared the time she didn’t have a phone. He’d blame it on curiosity but really he would just read your texts with a slight smile acting like he’d been texting you instead. Even after breaking up with Soomin he found himself looking at your contact just wondering if he should take his chances and talk to you again. Now that he had an excuse to text you, since you kissed the other night, he went for it.

jeon jungkook: don’t go anywhere. we’ll get coffee together

jeon jungkook: where are you?

Fuck, it was so fucking stupid of you to actually want to see him. He wasn’t a good boyfriend to Soomin. They were always arguing about something. She was always crying and you had even heard the stuff he told her when they fought. Everything about him screamed red flag. He is a male Virgo for fuck’s sake. Yeonwoo was already judging you for what happened at the club because for some reason she took it personal. Soomin had ignored you both without a single care and yet you were still supposed to respect girl code? All because she was texting Yeonwoo available but not you? Like yeah, part of you felt guilty because she had been your close friend at one point and you missed hanging out with her. It’s not like you didn’t know she had dated him but fuck you can’t help it. You just got dumped two weeks ago and now someone new is giving you attention.

you: i don’t want to wait

you: I’m gonna ride the bus to __

Once the bus got to the stop the two of you swiped your cards and found your seats. Even after she stopped on campus you kept going till you were in your neighborhood. You got off at your stop and left to the coffee shop you've become a regular at. Thankfully, the place was practically empty only one person in front of you and it was a tall stranger dressed from head to toe in black. A huge contrast to your cream colored sweater and gray leggings. His voice was deep and familiar but you had known who it was before they spoke.

When he was done he moved to the side looking behind him. Jungkook smiled warmly, finally, he thought. He sped over to where you’d told him and since he knew the bus would do multiple stops and it’d give him time get here before you. And you actually smiled back at him. His heart melted. He hasn't been able to get the taste of you off his tongue. He wanted to do it again right here, right now. Possibly do even more, he doesn't care who sees. "Well surprise, surprise," he responded as he reached over you to pay for the drink. Your head tilted in amusement as you moved to stand next to him waiting for your drink, “Is it though?”

His was made quickly and they were calling his name to get it but he waited for you, "100% I definitely wasn’t still on the phone when you told Yeonwoo you were getting coffee. And I also didn’t ask for you to tell me where so I could come and see you.”

“Woah, don’t start exposing yourself,” You said teasingly. He matched your smirk, “What are you doing this weekend? I want to take you out.”

You smacked your lips feigning disappointment, “Sorry I’m busy. I’m meeting up with Yeonwoo, her boyfriend, and his friend on Saturday and I work Sunday.”

“What about Saturday night?” He asked even though he was more curious to know the guy Namjoon would be bringing. If it was the same one mentioned at the club he needed to know. You looked down at your phone, a new text from Yeonwoo, “Can’t. Apparently we’re getting drinks with Soomin and Yoongi.”

“Friday?” He was just getting more and more frustrated trying to find time that you could spend with him. Who was the guy and why was Soomin suddenly wanting to talk to you again? You shook your head in response, “I’ve gotta work.”

His jaw clenched. Why can’t you just make time for him instead of Soomin? That’s going to fuck up his chances with you. You looked to him waiting to see how he’d react but instead of talking about Soomin, he brought up something else.

"It's a shame Yeonwoo cut in," Jungkook said with an exaggerated sigh. Oh God, he was bringing up the kiss. You were hoping you could just see him again without having to think about the kiss and what it could mean that he’s bringing it up instead of a drunken accident. “Jungkook.”

He bit back a groan, it sounded so good coming from your lips he couldn't wait to have you screaming it. He'd treat you so damn good, better than he's treated anyone. He'll hurt whoever the fuck hurts you and he won't care who it happens to be. He’s never felt this intense for someone before. He’s had tons of girlfriends. Tons of girls before but he could never say that he honestly ever cared about them. Sure he played the concerned boyfriend if they’re upset but deep down he had just been so annoyed by their moods. Why he was so determined to date you and vows to be the perfect boyfriend for you is even more confusing but he just wants it so bad. And he needs to get what he wants.

Shit, you’re trying to say something to him, “I don’t know how I feel about the other night. It’s just weird you know? Can we not talk about it?”

His smile dropped instantly, “Why? You’re single, I’m single and it was just a kiss. There’s nothing to be weird about.”

You rolled your eyes at that, but your voice spoke just above a whisper clearly uncertain, “You know what I’m talking about.”

He sighed looking away, “I know what you’re talking about but that’s in the past. You didn’t care the other night when we kissed. All of a sudden, Soomin wants to talk to you again and now you won’t even give me a chance? Plus, who cares what Yeonwoo says.”

You shook your head, “It’s not just what she’s said it’s ab—“ “Look at me,” he said, your eyes seemed to soften and he took the chance at scooting his chair around the table to sit next to you, trapped you further into the corner against wall and window of the round table you were sitting at. You didn't shy away from him either and that excited him. He can't wait to shower you in riches and love. You'll never leave him, he'll be perfect for you just as you're perfect for him. Don't ask him how he knows you're meant to be together, he just does. You leaned into him a little as you looked up at him. He stared into your eyes softly to show you how serious he was, “I’m into you, alright?”

“I know you’re feeling guilty because of the fact that I dated your friend and I also know you think I’m a piece of shit just like Yeonwoo does,” he kept going, “But I’m telling you right now that I really want to see if anything happens between us. And I know you’re curious too so just give me a chance.”

You whined in frustration, “You’re so annoying.” You still leaned into him a little and he was leaning into your touch too.

"I’m being serious," he said, a hand going under your chin and as if already knowing what he wanted, your lips met his in another electrifying kiss. Fuck, you were the absolute worst. That’s what everyone would say when all your friends find out. But you still weren’t backing away from him. Part of you did want him just a little but you shouldn’t.

It was so fucking weird that he dated your friend and now for some reason you’re both feeling an instant attraction. It’s not like the two of you had been friends. You were his girlfriend’s friend who he’d see on occasion when forced to go with Soomin somewhere. You’d only talk when Soomin was around and that one rare time he gave you a ride home from her place where you talked about movies. Obviously when he disappeared on Soomin you thought he was the absolute worst and that’s how you felt until you stopped talking to Soomin as much. Then after that he didn’t really come to mind when you didn’t see her anymore. But the night of the club when you saw how intensely he was looking at you, you had instantly been intrigued.

You're not sure how it happened and it's times like this that you wondered if you were too stupid to know any better. But even with those thoughts in your head you still invited him into your house to touch your body.

"We should slow down," you sighed out as he kissed along your neck hungrily sitting next to you on your bed. He growled at that, hand still groping at your sides inching your sweater up enough for his hand to touch bare skin. He was practically crawling onto your lap trying to get closer than he already is. He sucked that sweet spit on your neck that had you biting back a moan as you held him by a hand on the back of his neck. He let his tongue flatten against it soothing any pain from his harsh sucking, "You’re right, but you’re just so pretty, I just want to devour you."

He kissed your lips shushing you and you happily met his efforts with need as he pushed you down onto your bed as if it was his own. Soon he will take you to his penthouse, lay you down on his king sized bed and give you all his love. By morning he'll make you breakfast, pull you into his hot tub and make love to you again. In the tub, against the window, on the floor, the counter, the wall, his car, his sink, everywhere. He'll fuck you everywhere his heart desires and he knows he'll never get tired of it. He doesn't care if this was the second time he's seen you in months. You're meant to be with him. He knows that now. The bad part is that he knows he’s slowly becoming obsessed and he doesn’t know how far he’ll take it since this is a new emotion. And he won’t let anyone get to your head and tell you this is wrong when it feels so right.

"You don't have a girlfriend, right?" You asked. You're too embarrassed to admit how many men you've slept with who had girlfriends you didn't even know about. And you wouldn’t at all be surprised if Jungkook had anyone at the moment. From the way he treated Soomin and how obsessed she was with him, you know he can have any girl he wanted. You’re proving his point and yet you didn’t do anything about it. He kissed your lips with a smile, you're just so cute to be asking him that even as you laid under him. How could he have a girlfriend that isn't you? He's only had quick fucks recently but he's got bigger plans than that for you. You're what he's been waiting for all his life. He kissed along your jaw between words, "Do you want to be my girlfriend?" Say yes, he thought.

"I don't know," you said honestly with a little gasp as he kissed down the column of your throat crawling down your body until he was kissing your exposed collarbone letting his hands inch up your sweater and fondled your breasts through all the fabric. You really wanted to be. As depressing as this might sound, you didn't know how to be single. Clearly that was noticeable by the way you were getting over an ex when you reconnected with Jungkook. You didn't know how to be independent. All you knew was the security being in a relationship brought you no matter how shitty it was. All you know is that you'd do anything for someone to love you and this man wants you even if he dated your friend. You're not even questioning it enough.

You're not sure when his head dipped under your sweater or when he yanked your bra down enough for your tits to spill from the top. You couldn't even see him as he attached his mouth to a breast. All you saw was a big lump under the fabric and the sensation of a warm, wet tongue running over your nipple immediately making it stiffen and your back arch. Jungkook wasn't shy with his touches, he was hungry. If he would’ve known he’d fall for you this hard when he had his mind set then he would’ve ditched Soomin sooner and took his chances with you way sooner. He wants you all to himself.

It's the greed talking. The spoiled rich kid in him that's making him like this but he doesn't care. He's going to have you. The tit that wasn't getting completely slobbered on in his mouth was being fondled by a rough hand. Squeezes around the plump flesh of your breast, fingers pinching your nipple making it harden enough for him to play with it. He was squeezing them together trying to force both in his help but he couldn't. He hadn't known he'd begun to rut against your bed. His cock growing so unbelievably hard and fast it was painful. His body never felt like this.

All the girls he'd fucked in the past had been just that. A quick fuck. He didn't seek out their pleasure. He didn't care about them. He put as much intimacy into that rough fuck as Patrick Bateman did fucking prostitutes. With girlfriends he acted nicer but when he wasn’t in the mood anymore, he was done.

"God, your body is so fucking slutty baby," he said in a low growl as he reappeared from under your sweater, hair tussled and lips swollen red and out of breath. His hands didn't stop their groping on your breasts even as he looked you in the eyes. You whined at that. The only times you've been called slutty is when insults have been thrown at your face. He was yanking your sweater off you, "I love it. I want you to be the nastiest fucking slut for me and only me. Can you do that?" He could hear the roughness in his voice and that’s no what he wanted. He wanted to cherish you but he wanted you so damn bad he couldn’t help it.

Suddenly you felt different. He didn't mean it in a bad way? He wasn't trying to bring you down? He wasn't asking about your body count or your past? He wasn't looking at you in disgust when your body reacted so quickly to a man's touch? You finally nodded after he was tearing into the middle of your bra between cups. You didn't realize how easy it was for him to split the material and clearly he didn't have time to unclip it from the back as he was tearing it off you like an animal. You gasped once more at the roughness and he smirked, "You like that bunny? I wanna make love to you all fucking night, you hear me? I want you screaming my name. I want you clawing at my back begging for more and I promise you will be begging. If you need me to slow down, say yellow but I'm not stopping. You're mine."

Fuck, it sounded so good coming from him but it still felt like it shouldn’t. He was such an ass to everyone and you know this and yet you don’t care. You don’t care how he left Soomin. You don’t care about how he treated her at the time. It was awful. You felt awful but your body was a horny mess all the time and you know it. Your past boyfriends never cared for pleasuring you. They used your body however they wanted for a quick fuck and whenever they were done they didn't even want you touching them.

Sure, Jungkook is using your body but he's actually providing pleasure with his rough touches. He's hungry for you and you could feel it through every kiss he left down your body. Of course you couldn't see the line of red bruises forming in your abdomen as he quietly marked your body in love bites making sure to have them on both breasts too and he wasn't stopping until he got to your pussy. He wanted you completely drowned in his affection and he had no problem marking you up cause of it. He was still fully dressed when he started tugging on your leggings and panties. You kicked your legs with a whine that had him clicking his tongue with a shake of his head. He reached for the back of his t-shirt pulling it over his head and discarding it on the floor. His hair was a messy black mop fanning over his face but he just waved it away. His hands slid against your legs.

They started at your your shins sliding up to your knees where he parted your legs with a firm grip. His nails dug into your thighs as they traveled toward your inner thigh making you spread them even more. His eyes traveled from your covered core up the line of love bites forming in your stomach and between your breasts to your face. Self-consciousness rose inside you as he smiled down at you leaning forward to capture your lips with his. Your legs threatened to squeeze shut but as soon as they tried, his muscular form stopped you from doing so. His hands gripped them roughly, his nails digging into the inside of your thighs just near your pubic bone. You whined into his mouth and it made him pull back with a groan.

"You're so gorgeous,"  he said breathlessly as he pulled away to take his jeans and briefs off. He struggled with the thick denim for a moment before laughing lightly dipping back between your legs to kiss you once more. His body pressed against yours as his tongue licked along yours dragging his mouth back so only his tongue would touch yours. He looked down at the indecent act, his saliva mixing with yours before taking your mouth with his again letting his eyes fall shut. Your arms wrapped around his neck dragging his mouth with yours and his body pressed you into the bed so deeply that you felt ever ridge of muscle on him. Finally, his free cock was pressing against your cunt, “I’ve always thought that, you know?”

"Ju—" you couldn't speak with his hungry kisses, thick and heavy cock sliding between your pussy. Your slick coating his angry member making the slide all that more delicious. He let you squish him by the neck against your lips, he felt all your desire and it made his heart race. Your hips were becoming restless and he knew you were just so desperate for him that he had to do more. He pulled away with a groan sinking down until he was hoisting your legs up and around his neck. Without another thought, he was yanking you toward his face.

"Tell me," his voice was demanding, but desperate licking his lips as he stared down at your core. You'r hands came around to hide but he was quick to send you a glare strong enough to stop you in your tracks, "Tell me, do you want to be mine baby?" He looked you in the eyes as he gave a tentative lick along your cunt only as a tease to make you gasp, “Fuck just say yes.”

He knows he’s asking for too much right now but he can’t wait. One could say he’s known you for a while even if it was in completely different circumstances so technically there’s no reason you two can’t move quickly.

"Yes" you said with a roll of your hips in the hopes that his mouth would slide up and lick your clitoris. You were feeling such pleasure just from his hands. You were too used to whist being fucked and left to fend for your own pleasures that you weren't used to all this attention on your body. As if answering your prayers, his nose rut against your clit, "You want me to touch you? Make you feel good?"

You nodded with a squeeze of your eyes that had him smiling, another tentative lick lime before. "You mean...like this?" he said to which you shook your head no, he kissed your pussy lips like he kissed your mouth. "So you want to be with me?”

"Yes," you mumbled as he parted your pussy for a long, languid lick. "Of course you do" he bumped into your clitoris once more and you clinged to his shoulders. "Because I like you so much more than everyone else. And I’ll treat you so good, so much better than any other guy. You know that, right?”

"Jungkook," you sighed, "Do you mean it?" You shouldn't believe it, it was only your second time meaning him and yet he's telling you everything you want to hear. And you know what he’s like, you’re just so naive when it comes to relationship ships and he came at the right time.

His head was pressed between your legs, his tongue flattened against your slit as he licked from, your already dripping entrance, to your clit. Even like that he was nodding his head moving with the buck of your hips not giving you any time to rest. He stopped to circle the bundle of nerves before sucking it between his lips swirling it around with his tongue. "Fuck Jungkook !" You let out a moan, that had his eyes darkening in hunger.

He groaned against you and your hips bucked thrust against his face. You panted, a hand down on your hair, "I'm gonn—gonna—"

His hold on you tightened and he seemed to push himself deeper into you. He snuck his hand up next to his mouth that attacked your clit. Without warning, he plunged two wet fingers into your tight cunt. He fingered you at a rapid pace, the combination of his tongue on your clit, his fingers inside you. You let out a loud and long moan, your back arching off the wall, your legs shaking around him as you began to release. He was quick to remove his fingers and forcing your hips down on the bed as he lapped up every last bit of you with his tongue.

"Tastes so sweet, just like I know you would," he moaned out licking the corners of his mouth. He was wrapping a hand around his cock, fisting his dick as he lined it with your entrance, "You'll let me fuck you like this, right? Are you on the pill?”

"Haven't I made you feel good?" He asked licking his lips as he let his leaking tip gather your slick puddles at your entrance. You shook your head, "Yes bu—"

"Don't you trust me?" He asked letting his tip press into your cunt, "Haven't I already treated you so much better than all the others? Don't I deserve to feel your wet pussy all on my cock? Feel it baby, feel how much I love you. Won't you let me have you like this?"

"Mm," you nodded but he needed more, he grinded against your pussy knowing he almost had you, "Yes, please fuck me raw." He moaned into your mouth, sinking in with one shaky breath catching you both by surprise. His arms came around to the back of your knees forcing your legs up to your chest so he could reach deeper. It made you both audibly moan into each other's mouths. His back arched creating a curve letting his hips pound into your pussy.  

Your hands clawed at his back and it made his eyes roll with the burn of each scratch. His elbows dug into the pillows around your head trapping you under him raising his hips back only to pound his thick cock into you feverishly. He looked down at your pretty face watching the way in controrted in pleasure and he was breathing heavily, "Doesn't it feel god like this honey? A thick cock stretching your tight little pussy? Making you feel better than anyone else has? Am I doing it? Tell me."

"Yes baby," you moaned and he swears his heart exploded in his chest at the name, "Do you want me?"

"So fucking much," he grunted rocking his hips into yours roughly. His back muscles tensing with each powerful thrust, "Nobody else will ever treat you better than me. We were meant to be together."

"Bu—" you were so close to your second orgasm and his words were only inching you closer. He knew this too. You clawed at his back in one final effort to hold onto your climax but it did nothing. Your walls broke within you, release escaping around his cock as he held you roughly while riding out your high. He growled into your neck as you squeezed around his member deliciously with each twitch of your cunt. He dragged his cock out, biting into your shoulder lightly as he came with a loud grunt, spurts of creamy white liquid painting your thighs.

"One more," he said panting, sweat covering every of his skin as he swallowed dryly. He didn't give you time to argue already rolling onto his side dragging your hips over his. His voice was raspy and dry, too low. You let out a small whine in acknowledgement as you nodded your head lining him up with your entrance. You'd do anything if he loved you despite your body being exhausted. You lifted yourself so Jungkook can enter when he's ready. He strokes his cock a few times getting more turned on with how fucked out your body looked for him. He looks down so he can position his cock right below your entrance before letting you sink back onto his hard dick. His mouth draws open in a silent moan, breathy gasps as his eyes rolled. He's in love with you.

Fuck he loves you. This is everything he'd been waiting for all his life. Yes, he knows how crazy it sounds but it just makes sense. There’s a reason he saw you again after months he just didn’t realize it until you were looking into his eyes under those blue and red lights. You were the one he'd been blindly following and that’s why he put up with Soomin for six months when he hated being with her. Look what he could’ve been enjoying.

You began to fuck yourself slowly barely able to raise your hips. You were completely spent. Jungkook had already dragged two orgasms out of your body and you're not sure how much more you can handle but you'll never tell him. You won't disappoint him because then he'd leave you like everyone else, right? He said it himself nobody will treat you like he does so you can't lose him. So instead, you let your body try and feel good again.

"Fuck, it feels so good," you moaned out honestly, when his hand groped your ass digging his nails in with small grunts every time your thighs smacked his. You needed more intimacy. You didn't just want to feel use and so you leaned down. He met your efforts kissing you passionately as your hips continued bouncing on his member, letting him drink in your moans. Both hands on your ass night, helping you ride him as his neck began to hurt from reaching up to kiss you. His hips lifted off the bed as his feet dug into the mattress and he breached further into your cunt. On birth control or not, he knows what the two of you are doing is dangerous and not something two college kids were ready for.

"Oh my god," Your hands latched onto Jungkook's  shoulders sitting back again with the overwhelming pleasure making you squirm. He forced your ass to grind on him. He didn't make you bounce on his cock. He pulled you to the hilt and let your wet cunt make a mess on his naked body. Your thighs had been hitting against his hips so much that they were sore from where they bulged out from his pretty frame.

"I can—can't, Jun—I," you moaned, hips speeding up already feeling a third orgasm. Jungkook drills his cock into you, fully allowing himself to sit up cradling you on his lap crossing his legs to hold you better. Jungkook shushed you pressing his face into your hair, letting you rut on his dick, your legs wrapping around him locking him in place, "Shh, you can. One more bunny, you can do that for me, right? Please? I love you, do this for me."

"Cum for me," he whispered over and over into your ear until finally your legs twitched in one final moan of his name as you came. Unlike last time, he couldn't wait for you to calm down before chasing his own release. He lifted you up enough to tug his cock out before pointing at your ass. His eyes on yours as he climaxed.

It took you both a moment, Jungkook's head rested on your chest catching his breath. He motioned for you to get off him and onto the disheveled bed and immediately fell down right next to you. He took your hand in his breathlessly pressing it to his lips so he could kiss your knuckle. He looked at your tired face, "Let's get you cleaned up before you go to sleep."

You didn't say anything as he moved to sit up still out of breath as he moved around to your side of the bed. You stuck your arms up and he gladly leaned down to take you in his hold. Naked and yet not aroused, it was oddly domestic. That's what Jungkook was going for. He's showing you how much he loved you. He's proving how little everyone else has loved you by just being a gentleman taking care of his girlfriend after a rough fuck. You expected him to leave, he knows you did but he'd never.

| next

request 1

::.

a/n, sooo I decided to make this a series bc when I saw my word count was 14k and I still wasn’t done with the plot I figured to just make it a series. I don’t usually do series cause I get bored easily but rn it’s just on my mind so I need to write it lol

also, thoughts on new cover idea, I edited the pic to match my blog theme cause it’s originally yellow and blue 😭 anything for the aesthetic 💅

[anantaru]

cw. [ex]plicit, fem! reader, alcohol mentions, toxic lol, modern au & college au, frat boy xiao

a/n. this came to me in a dream lmao

frat boy xiao, and no one else, he was the one who made your legs almost give up on you the moment his hypnotic eyes meet yours while when he averts himself from your direction again, there was a terrible, existential emptiness riveting in your soul, a ceaseless and unending openness.

until now you felt that way, but you are living in reality and this wasn't your conventional, exaggerated rom con experience from an atrocious netflix movie, still, for all that wishful fantasizing inside of you, the desire of meeting your pristine soulmate at a random, huge college frat party fenced by loud, ear-splitting music, the hustle and bustle of binge drinking and beer pong, strangers escaping to the bathroom to hook up with each other, was still somewhat comforting.

frat boy xiao who only calls you when he's bored, only fucks you when he feels like it, it's not like he was a soulless person, in his own ways he was caring about you but he also made it clear that he wasn't searching for anything more serious, he wanted to stay within the lane of occasionally hooking up with you— but when he does, when you let him touch you, it's the best feeling in the world, resembling a moment when you stand ankle-deep on the beach at night, you hear it, that is, you hear the world breathing or how the sound carries across the water.

frat boy xiao who keeps you a secret in front of his friends, he fears that they might make a move on you if he doesn't. you're his to play with— although he wouldn't say it with his chest, he rather shows you instead. you sigh and swallow when he first sinks into you, eyes darkened with lust when he pushes into your body. xiao grunts appreciatively, lazily draping your shirt up so it'll rest above your now exposed breasts, revealing your full, soft chest and his face smooths under the shadow of a single light flickering up the room.

you take a quick breath when he begins to move and pump his leaking cock in a leisure manner, not fastening any steps, xiao would always start slowly, making you accustomed to his large girth as if it was your first time to have sex with him. you stammer loudly, lacing your arms around his neck tight, "you're so good at this, xiao.." and purposefully make him flustered, cheeks glistening red, the slight embarrassment emerging was pinking his neck— the sort of pink that brings champagne roses to the imagination.

frat boy xiao who gazes at you bemusedly, seizing himself off you before swiftly flipping you on your stomach, not letting you take a breather, his hands sinking into the plush of your behind as he lines himself against your hole again. there was something so alluring to seeing your face pressed against his pillow, while knowing it will remember your scent and even when you leave afterwards, it'll still feel like you're next to him.

you cry out, rocking your hips back, your hands webbing into the bed sheets as xiao slopes his entire body against your figure— one hand placed on the bed frame so he wouldn't crush you with his weight while the other twisted and turned on your skin, fuck how much he loved fondling your body, and the grab on your hips was perfect to easily lurch you into his cock.

you can clearly witness his impatience growing by now, sensing how your hole splits and it burns a little, but it's tasteful enough and you try your unconditional best to keep your burning thighs apart for him, gasping with your head in the clouds, eyes fluttering shut as you bury your face back into the tear soaked pillow, your pulse soaring within his pounding beat on your slippy cunt.

frat boy xiao cannot get enough of you, but he also cannot commit to you, for a reason rather unknown— while you also refrain from asking him as to why, fearing that he might feel like being pushed into a corner, cowering of losing those certain moments that do bring you joy, it's the flustering perception he made you experience too, the hallmark of one who is true of heart, a genuine sweetness you were forever craving.

©2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[honestsycrets]

brujería i: inhuman | ceo!miguel x succubus!reader

❛ pairing | ceo!miguel x succubus!reader

❛ type | doubleshot, explicit

❛ summary | since taking over his bio-father's company, miguel just can't seem to sleep. there may be someone behind that though. or, a succubus wants miguel.

❛ tags | some sacrilege, succubus!reader, ceo!miguel, sex-dreams, sleepy sex, dub!con: miguel is asleep during many encounters, exhibitionism outside of a church, f!reader, some mention of blood and wounds, au with deviations from canon, slight hurt miguel, slight caretaking peter, excessive bodily fluids, some mindgames.

❛ request fulfilled | Was wondering if i could request ceo!miguel x succubus! reader? whether he’s spider-man is completely up to you but reader is basically like a demon hiding in plain sight, toying and feeding on the sexual energy of people. maybe she’s a new hire and then she visits him in his dreams or smth. miguel becomes her target and he finds himself falling in love with her and wanting her so much it brings out an intense carnal desire inside him (1/2)

❛ sy's notes | i based some of miguel's sleep paralysis on my own experience. the catholic religious connotations are not very heavy, but if you're sensitive to that sort of thing, i'd probably skip this one.

Miguel O’Hara was never a superstitious man.

He grew up in a deeply Catholic home thick with superstition. His grandmother’s rosary still sat on his desk, enveloped in a spherical glass alongside stacks of organized paperwork on the latest drug his not-so-dearly held biological father left before he kicked it. Corruption was fiercely rooted, a fact that Miguel was not so subtle about. The papers he rifled through that morning revealed the stupidest account of Brujería among reports of Rapture.

“Brujería-- what bullshit,” he murmured as he dropped a stack of papers back onto the oak desk. He glanced at the glass tabletop and found his reflection therein. His eyes, crinkled at the edges, carried the reflection of countless days of his dark exhaustion. “Si no es una cosa es otra.”

“Miguel?”

“What, Lyla?” Miguel threw a glare at the ceiling at the AI that sang at him. She seemed far too happy with her position as the resident terror of his new office. New was an overstatement. It was his father’s before he croaked, reflected in some of his tacky taste in the things Miguel had immediately thrown out. Why else would it have a picturesque, but grandiose view of Nueva York but for a great view of the people he was destroying? The bright windows also did a bang-up job of burning his eyes

“The psychiatrist is here,” she chirped. “Are you going to tell her about your wet dreams?”

The flutters that danced over his skin at night at the strike of three. Foreign warmth caressed his skin like a warm blanket over his skin. His heart rate raced, and pleasure burrowed under his skin. It never failed that Miguel would wake to a rush of pleasure, cum painting his sheets sticky, his heart soaring into his throat. With such pleasure, why would he tell anyone but Lyla about his pathetic, ruined state that came night after night?

Miguel waved his hand in dismissal. He instead checked the chunky watch on his wrist. You're just on time. He appreciates a punctual professional given how much work he had to complete. In lieu of the report of spiritual abuse, he picks up the pile of sexual misconduct. That was a more pressing matter to address. The actual victims were far more important than some bruto’s complaint of ojos based on a huevo in some water. He should send these idiots to any middle schooler’s chemistry class. The bruja who was coming to visit him today could hardly be a source of concern.

“Why would I do that? Let her in. You listen in and I’ll unplug you.”

“You wouldn’t do that,” Lyla teased, but he knew she was right. Lyla was one of his only friends and by far the one he spent the most time with. She has patience for him. He slips his reading glasses out of their holster as the lock on his office door hisses apart, welcoming in the strange woman whose name he could never find but in Stone’s personal records. A chroí, my love, like Stone could love anyone else but himself.

“Dr. O’Hara.”

Miguel slipped the lenses on. Not only was the woman before him, not the sort of hippy-dippy woman he expected, but you were… familiar. Oh, so familiar. He’s never met you before. Yet, he finds himself inexplicably pulled to closing the gap between your bodies.

You extend your hand for him to take.

“Dr…” You finished his sentence by offering your name.

“Have I met you before?” His large hand clasped your own. A blanket of warmth blossomed from your small hand in his grip. Gentle at first, your very same small hands laced in his. The sudden realization of where he’d seen you hit him like a bullet through the head: unexpected and instantaneous. The image rippled across his mind, Miguel’s hand collared on your nape, his fat dick splitting your cunt against his office’s wide windows. Another pulse of heat soared through his hand--

Miguel jerked his hand back. What in the hell?

“¿Estás bien?” You were so close that he could smell the perfume on your skin. A dark cherry, sultry, and so good. He was swimming in the vague delusion that was your skin against his. There was something delicious about the way you looked at him, tracing the outline of his tie that sat tightly behind a constricting vest. He was hazy, clumsily falling back into his office chair. Moving was tiring with the sudden vial of desire that flooded through his veins. You were at his side in an instant.

“I’m fine,” he lied. “It’s… the heat.”

“Oh! Stone's office is always hot. Here, I'll help you,” No-- he tried to argue. Against his wishes, you slipped his suit jacket off his shoulders and down his muscular arms, loitering a bit too long along his pumped biceps. “Though, I guess it’s all yours now, isn’t it? We all are.”

Miguel has no energy to fight you, lost in the haze that was last night’s forgotten dream. He’d never met you before, that much he was sure. Yet he swore, on all that was scientific and right, that he dreamed of your body on his, emptying him of any worries as he came into the nothingness of his sheets. It wasn’t just pleasure, it was a sea of rapture, and he drowned in it.

“According to your AI, you’re burning up lately.”

How do you know? You walked around his chair, your slender heels clicking over the hardwood floor. His eyes traced the curves of your velvet red pencil dress up to your bust as you leaned in, the back of your hand taking his temperature on his forehead. Your bust had delicate black lace detailing that enhanced your natural beauty. It scorched his ability to be a decent gentleman. Every man had their limits. He’s nearly at his, and you’ve only just arrived.

“You're so warm,” you gasped, but it's strained, a crack through stained glass. “Let me help you.”

You reached for the knot of his tie. That’s enough-- Miguel shoves your hand from his neck. He tugs the charcoal tie away from his throat, drawing it away from his white button-up. You wet your lips, drawing a sheen across your perfectly applied lipstick. You came in here with a plan and purpose to inflame him-- and did just that.

“Careful.”

A pause-- your eyes challenged him, seemed to know how weak he was in resisting the strain of lust that came with your mere presence. He was losing the fight quicker than he’d like. Miguel has to focus. “Your findings on Rapture’s… trial run. Where are they?”

“Destroyed,” you answered curtly.

"Project 2099?"

“Under seal. Oh, don’t look at me like that, hermoso. It wasn’t my choice.”

Hermoso. A flicker of anger shot through him as you reclined on his desk and ran your hands across the rim. You seem to notice the rosary on his desk, eyes lingering on it for more than a few seconds. You dipped so comfortably between propriety and looseness. The distance between your easily accessible skirt and his hardening erection is the entirety of only a few steps. “Stone’s orders, not mine.”

“There are no copies?”

“Why would there be? Stone was always very persistent with what he wanted.”

You? He doesn’t ask.

Something in him doesn’t want to think of it, what his father could have done to you that would make you so willing to stand so close to him. Your gaze faltered. You bore at his groin, his sleek dark slacks straining against his length.

“Now you want to know if I fucked him, que no?”

That's a yes. The way you slip onto his desk, legs slightly apart, tells him all he needs to know. His gaze falters, down then up again, an irrational amount of envy welling low in his belly. He found himself wondering what you’ve done in this very room. You bat your long lashes, far too pretty. He isn't easily dissuaded.

“I've barely met you and you want to know everything about my work and personal life. You’re so greedy. So like him.”

“I am nothing like that man.” At that very moment, his eyes locked with yours. A distant rage filled his belly. No one, he meant no one, compared him with that maniac. His tongue twisted in his mouth, ready to make some sharp remark, but you snatched his words by leaning forward, pressing your lips to his head. Your fingertips combed through his dark hair, a warm comfort. A kiss? His hands felt heavy, weighed down by an impossible weight, one he couldn’t push off no matter how much he strained.

"Hasta luego, Miguel.”

The door closes behind you with a clap. Back in the chair, Miguel was heaving heavy breaths. The restriction on his body loosened up and allowed Miguel to grab the black mirror stashed in a drawer below his desk. Your sticky lipstick left a stain on his forehead, strained with stress lines. He wiped away the red stain of your lipstick and rolled the remnants between his thumb and middle finger.

"Like Stone," he repeated with a hiss. "Mierda."

He wracked his hand around his swollen cock-- panting as he beat himself off, ecstasy claiming that he had to have you. The insatiable need to have -- his father’s whore-- overrode any of the papers on his desk. He came into the cold nothingness that is the air, his hands coated in his own essence. Miguel untucked a handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiped himself clean.

“Lyla? Who?” he gasped a breath, “Who is that woman?”

“Beats me,” Lyla thought she was so funny. “She’s not in any electronic records.”

“Really.”

Even if that was the case, Miguel would be damned if Stone got the better of him in death. Miguel cleaned up his hand and whirled open the sexual harassment folder-- he was nothing if not a determined man.

You shouldn’t be here. No, really, you should not be employed here.

He doesn’t know your qualifications because he cannot find them. In the electronic documents, your file is bare bones. The suggestion of your education is non-verifiable but signed off by Stone himself. If it were only him, he might chalk it up to corruption. But there were others-- other dead bodies-- who signed off on your highly amended report on Rapture. The board claimed your employment was not a subject for discussion. Even if he were the face of the company, you were untouchable.

He left his office to the small coffee shop on the third floor. The man who ran it, Peter, was a refreshment from the stress of the day in his own, weird little way. It was probably the high quantity of caffeine that kept him awake.

On the surface, Miguel’s dreams are unoffensive. Light things, like fingers brushing veins that creep along his muscles, soapy breasts dragging along his chest. Using your body like a sponge to clean him after a heavy session at the gym. You are always on your knees, suckling the cum free from his cock with an angelic little flutter of your lashes and those sultry, cat-like eyes. He was in a state of constant arousal with nothing to show for it but a consistently swollen dick. At his age, he considers it a feat.

“You’re so sexy, Peter.”

There it was again. Your giggle over top of the sound of the hiss of a coffee machine. Peter was laughing, shy, or uncomfortable, he couldn’t quite tell. Miguel slips off his wire sunglasses, looking along the bar for the source.

“Hey, Miguel!”

He paced around the corner, then back. There are a few work couples and colleagues speaking with one another. Their tables are fresh with coffee and tea, tiny wrapped sandwiches a poor lunch. You’re conspicuously absent. The lack of sleep was fucking with his head, it had to be. He settled the glasses into the lining of his suit pocket and withdrew his wallet.

“Miguel! You'll never guess who came by. Uh, the usual?” Peter bounced over, leaning over the cash register with a glitter in his eye. He was more upbeat than even usual. Some girl must have made his day, he decided. Sí, he rumbled. Miguel dipped his fingers into his wallet to pull out his card only to be stopped short of the action.

“Nope,” Peter pushed Miguel’s hand away. “Someone paid for you.”

“For me?” Miguel settled the card in its proper slot. “Who?”

“You know,” Peter whispers. "The bruja."

“She was here?” he repeated, following Peter across the side of the bar as he began to make his coffee. Peter is an airhead, a wonderful airhead. Some part of him is infectious on days when he’s not being stalked by a woman with no traceable name. It was as if you were wiped clean. “When?”

“About two hours ago? She said you looked spooked and left me some money for your coffee. I think she likes you.”

You were doing more than liking him.

“And why would you think that?” Miguel pulled out a chair at the bar, humoring the scrawnier man. Peter frothed some milk, a fluffy cloud of relaxation on top of his usual coffee dusted with cinnamon and nutmeg. Miguel takes the mug from Peter, wrinkling his nose at the addition of nutmeg.

“Well, she turned down some dude from marketing,” Peter mentions. “I've been here for a while and-- she rarely turns anyone down.”

You rarely turn anyone down?

It bothered him long after he finished the coffee. You’re so sexy, Peter. You weren’t there. Peter told him that you’d been gone for two hours. He should not have heard the wisps of your caramelized voice in the coffee shop.

It’s the exhaustion, Miguel convinced himself. He just needs the weekend, to rest.

By Saturday night, he hit his last nerve.

Restful sleep would not come. He lay in his large, empty king-sized bed after searching through files for another project that had no other name but 2099 for the entirety of ten long hours. Any information-- redacted-- but your name slapped over the top and bottom of countless documents was like a great, big fuck-you O'Hara. The more he read about you, the angrier he became. You enraged him, but he was positively enthralled with your presence.

He lay in bed listening to should-be soothing jazz that now grated his ear. Night after night, his torment never failed. When he finally found an instance of peace, his muscles locked up. Not quite awake, but not quite asleep. Heavy pressure overtook his chest and arms forced him to remain still. The world fazed in and out, doom on beating alarm bells in the back of his mind. Then he felt it, the phantom pressure on his neck that slid over his tawny skin, from his belly to the dark happy trail that dipped below his silky pants.

Miguel gritted his teeth and ripped himself from his trance. When his eyes popped apart, he was greeted by his shock. Hunger flowed through him in warm waves, piercing underneath his skin. Miguel’s fingers twinged, your phantom figure on top of him. It looked like you, but misty, as though an illusion. In the darkness, he can only make out the shadows that bounce off what little light is in the room.

“Motherfucker--”

Though he said that, your teasing fingers freed him from his cozy pants, ripping them around his hirsute thighs. His length lulls against his body, a shameful drool of cum gathered at his cock. A night of phantom touches has done him in. Miguel lurched back onto his flat pillows when he was abruptly shoved down by an outrageous amount of force. With his arms thrown up by his head-- he whimpered, frustrated with tonight's-- dream, delusion, dare he say-- reality. His joints were locked by invincible chains that forced him to stay in place. The more he fought, the hotter his need became for what came next. His body was pitifully trained.

He wasn’t certain that it was you-- but it smelled so deeply of your perfume, rich and cherry, flooding his nostrils. So familiar. He glanced down at the opaque figure, grinding over his hard cock. A pair of hands crashed onto his shoulder, claws curling into his broad shoulders. Blood seeped forth. A growl gathered in his chest, ripping up when something warm and tight sunk down on his bobbing dick. Miguel gritted his teeth: it had been a long time since he’d been with anyone. Not for a lack of viable partners, but his annoyance with them all.

Despite his immense muscle, he was too weak to do anything about it. Even if he could, what would he do? Throw off the sex-crazed hallucination on his dick? You rolled your hips over him, suckling him right back up. Hypnotized by the smoky illusion, Miguel gazed on begrudgingly, grunting as you rolled over him, his dick straining your insides. He was a toy, nothing more and nothing less, used for his fat cock that split your airy body apart. His hips jerked, frustrated as he found he could go no deeper. You punished him by dragging your claws over his swarthy shoulders, over his collarbones. Blood ripped free, sliding down his deltoids.

“Chingado,” Miguel’s lips parted for the word, hips juddering up like a hungry slut. It wasn’t normal, the warm tickle of your lubricant over his shaft, exquisite in its nature. His heels dug into the bed, balls tightened. He was so damn close to his relief, he could taste it on his tongue, bordering somewhere between immense pleasure and decadent pain. Your need for his pain won out, dipping down over his chest and latching your fangs over his chest-- then up, hooking on the front of his throat. It was going to bruise, badly.

You shook loose his orgasm, ripped free with the need to fill you, own you-- as though he were not the one being owned. His hips staggered, sticky whips of cum coating your walls in waves. More than he’d cum before before. His eyes shut hard, tears pricking the sides of his eyes. Then, as if it never happened, the hold on his hands was released. He struggled with his freedom, his hands slack, softening cock worthlessly weeping over his thigh. The pain-- oh, the pain, it washed over him moments later.

“Woah,” Lyla interrupted, “Miguel! What happened?”

She couldn’t see you. His eyes were like two dark coins, staring up at the ceiling, wide, and unseeing. He can hear her frantic questions, the ligature marks left behind from invincible chains, and the all-too-real blood and bruising that left him utterly ruined.

“It,” he choked out, heat biting at his well-chiseled face. “It hurts.”

He doesn’t remember what comes next. It was five in the morning when he finally rolled out of bed, and onto the floor, gripping the growing headache that grew miserably behind his head. Bitterness bubbled in his stomach, exhaustion in his eyes. The aberration that was his poor sleep was irksome more than anything. He felt someone’s eyes on him, soft and worried, rushing to his aid as though he were an old man who fell off a bed.

“Hey, you’re awake,” Peter said with an undercurrent of concern soaring through his words. “No, wait. I got you.”

He helped him sit against the frame of his bed, a frame that looks small as shit with Miguel’s large body against the frame. He’s unsure of what to say, assuming that Lyla called him in desperation, and let him into the house that Peter most definitely did not have a key to. Miguel’s chest ached. “What happened? Are you… are you okay?”

Everyone seems to ask him that lately.

“I’m fine,” he was alien to the feeling of care. He knew when Miguel dug himself into a hole. Miguel didn’t want to think about what happened only a few hours prior when his exhaustion took over his body and knocked him out. He dreamed of nothing. An abyss of unsettled nothingness, the ache low in his belly to fuck you until you were soaked in his cum and Miguel could finally, finally rest his tired eyes. Miguel pulled on a fluffy white robe Peter supplied, dragging it over thick strips of gauze and medical tape.

“You don't look fine.”

They both know he’s lying, but what else could be said? That the state Peter saved Miguel from was a rarity? That he’s used to being preyed upon by his own delusions? He needs a fuck, maybe that’s it.

“If you’re going to stay, be useful and get me that file.”

“Oh-- okay, this one?” he doesn’t look surprised. He padded across his room to his desk, kicked a chair that was falling apart aside, and picked up the folder on Brujería. It was buried behind more useful folders such as sexual harassment and inter-employee workplace violence. A fact that Miguel wasn’t exactly proud about in the first place.

“Brujería? Like witch stuff, right? No way. You think work is haunted too?” Peter says with a choked-out, nearly forced laugh. Miguel doesn’t pay himself enough for this. Of all the files at hand, it was nearly untouched. It included such things as ancestors, spirits, demons, and curses.

“I don’t. But the workers obviously do.”

Peter was soft and kind, but not stupid. He plopped down next to him and crossed his legs one over the other.

“The ones that say she’s a bruja?” Peter tapped on your photo. Your photo offers emptiness. That though you have a bright smile in the photo, it is undoubtedly fake. He never saw a woman look so innocent and sweet, but dangerous.

“You’ve heard?”

“Well, the men she hangs around always end up dead. They get all successful and rich then, bam, dead. But you can’t believe that right?” Peter reasons. “She’s not cursed, she just has bad luck. She’s always been nice to me.”

“A curse?”

“Yeah,” his warm breath wavers into a sigh. “Stone wanted company, found her in Sacred Heart-- you know, the one they say is cursed?”

“A cursed church? Give me a break. The only curse at Sacred Heart are the exploitive priests.”

“I’m just saying what I heard,” he’s whispering, shivers wracking up his arms at the mere mention. He tries not to push him anymore. Peter stood up and walked to the coffee stand in the corner of his dark room. For the days that he couldn’t be bothered to leave his room, he’d make a hot coffee in the corner and keep working just as he always did. “She’s always been nice to me.”

“Maybe you’re not her taste.”

“Yeah well, probably not. I don't look like you-- but she did call me sexy, so that's something right?” Peter laughed, “Want a cup of coffee?”

Sexy. That's it, he's so fucking sick of this shit.

“No, I don’t want a cup of fucking coffee,” Miguel bit back, shoving the bed several inches as he pushed his hand off of it, storming into his walk-in closet. “Lyla. When is mass at Sacred Heart?”

“Sacred Heart?” Lyla laughed. “You’re kidding--”

“Lyla,” he snarled, chucking his bag across the closet. It connected with his tall, black safe with a loud boom. She was quiet for a moment, undoubtedly momentary confusion for why non-believer Miguel O’Hara wanted to go to, of all things, a Catholic mass.

“6:30,” she answers.

“I’ll go with you,” Peter calls out.

Don’t bother, Miguel returns from the next room.

It’s been a long time since he dressed for mass-- some dark brown slacks and a warm, vanilla button-up. He snaps a chain necklace around his thick, bruised throat and his favorite watch. As he grabbed the manilla folder on brujería he felt like a child, lectured by his grandmother to not be like his bad man-loving, alcoholic mother and go to church. Despite very much not believing in any of this shit, it was frustrating, annoying even, that he had to go back there.

He didn’t want to go but his spirit was unsettled. Something told him that going to his grandmother’s favorite church would give him a sense of illumination, that it would make sense of the things that made no sense.

Sacred Heart stands on a hill, both physically and metaphorically. It takes offerings off the backs of the poor and sits atop a lush hill. Its stained-grey architecture is only beautiful by virtue of its stained-glass murals. He doesn’t care for the saints that loom overhead, unseeing eyes judgemental and cold. Viejitos and the truly devout are the only ones in attendance. Based on Peter’s account, he should expect you there. It doesn't take long to be proven right.

“Bendición.”

Is he hallucinating again? Despite the many rows of unspoken burgundy benches, you sit by him. Miguel is disconcerted as you slide your thick hips by, sandwiching him between the side of the bench and your chunky, beautiful thighs. He worked his words in his mouth for entirely too long.

“Dios te bendiga,” he said, the words chalky and thick in his throat, drawn up from the bottomless abyss of his fluttery stomach. You sat with a black lace veil pinned to your head. The only sort of women who wear a veil are very old or not Catholic at all. He veers on the latter. “You’re Catholic?”

“If you want me to be.”

“Why else would you be here?” he reached over and plucked up a cheap bible from a pouch behind the bench before him. Your eyes follow pupils dilating in a way that isn’t human at all, staring at the many words on the page that spun under his thumb.

“I think you know why,” you said with soft and pliable words. He felt himself melting.

Of course, Miguel thought, you always seem to show up during the most inopportune times.

"You didn't bring a bible," he offers it to you. Your eyes, dilate wide and bright at the sight of the thing, flicker a look down to it, then Miguel again.

"I prefer to listen." You turn away from it. He flipped it in his hand before returning it to its rightful pouch. For some reason, you did not want to be close to the book. He thinks he knows why.

“So you are stalking me.”

"Stalking is such a mean word, Miggy. Haunting, I like haunting better." Miguel throws open the report. He doesn’t want to read it-- but it is the last folder that may hold the information he needs. Your eyes fluttered to the footsteps of others filling their spot, an archaic song on the lips of the practitioners. Wrong page, Miguel.

"What was that?" he asked you.

"Nada."

He looked down to his lap where the report sat. The voices of those present, their lips forming an off-tuned song, itched at his already exhausted mind. The more he fought, the worse it became. You flipped open a black fan and cooled yourself with long flicks of your wrist. He doesn’t think it’s so hot.

“The rosary on your desk is from here, isn’t it?”

How would you know?

“You’re hiding something.”

Page 76. His fingers thumb on the pages on their own accord. Your eyes traced the movement, looking down at the pages before him. On deaths of company men.

I just do.

The thought entered his mind without prompting. He scanned names on the page. Aaron Delgado… asphyxiation. Tyler Stone… myocardial infarction. There were photos pinned there, photos that shouldn’t be so graphic, but somehow are. The men are as naked as the day they came into the world.

“If you say so, Miggy.”

“What are you hiding?”

You brought your hand over the file, closing it shut on top of his hand. He turns his hands over the top. Your fingers run over his knuckles, in misleading circles. “Are you sure you want the truth?”

“I don’t hide from the truth.”

“The truth,” you leaned in, your words husky against his ear. “The truth is I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m a good girl, Miggy. You have to believe me.”

Something about the way you spoke enraged him, prickling him enough to force him to stand in the middle of the priest’s words. He snatched your wrist with his thick hand, gripping you enough to leave pepper bruises across your skin. Your heels clicked after his boots, out through the foyer, past the bath of holy water, and down the discolored steps.

“Miguel?” you sang like a siren.

He’s hit his limit, throwing you against the discolored church wall. A gasp punched out of your lungs, aggravated by Miguel’s large hand strangling the breath from your throat. He felt warm as he kicked your legs apart and took up that space. The heat doesn’t feel like it is his. His bulge against your skirt certainly is. Now, he seems to expect pleasure when he is in your presence.

“You want me to fuck you, sí? That’s why you’re tormenting me every fucking night.”

“I thought you liked cumming,” you relinquished with a harsh giggle. It grates his last nerve. “You finally look relaxed when you do.”

“Qué mala eres,” Miguel snatched the bottom of your skirt, ripping it up the slit to expose your warm skin. He found no panties there, just smooth skin. He cupped your sex for emphasis. “No panties in church. You're filthy.”

“¿Y qué? You’re proving why I didn’t need them.”

He stared, lingering for a moment, challenging your insistence on control. Since he took over this god-forbidden company, you had been defying him with your devilish smile. Miguel slapped your cunt, eliciting a groan that was half of the pain that he’d had only a few hours ago. You liked it, scratching lines up his arms to his broad shoulders.

“You’re so big,” you balanced his abuse with your overwhelming worship. “So big and pretty.”

“Shut up,” he bit out and slipped his middle finger inside of you, unconcerned for your pleasure. Your muscles tightened around his finger, drawing him deeper. He slides another beside it, his hand leaving your cunt to slap your jaw, forcing you to keep focus. Your tender flesh is hot and red, a wonderful tenderness radiating throughout your jaw.

“And you're dripping, do you have no shame?” He grips your chin to look at your face. Raw defiance was slapped across your face. You rolled your hips onto his hand, forcing him to caress your walls in the right spot. He perked his brow, listening to the priest lecturing in the background. Your sweetness drooled over his curled wrist, dripping from his squelching fingers.

“For you,” you whined. “I want your dick. Give it--”

“You’re a brat.”

He said that-- but he was amused. Miguel slipped down onto his knees, knocking your legs rudely apart. His mouth encircled your puffy clit, bringing it into his mouth and suckling it fat. His rhythm was quick, making a point that he could make you cum too. You weren’t debating him, your hands tight in his hair, loud little moans beating free from your lips. His tongue was warm and soft, kissing and nipping.

The priest went quiet.

“You’re being too loud. Do you want them to hear us?” Miguel’s brow furrowed, slipping up from your vulva.

"Why is that my problem?" You whined in distaste after he stopped pleasuring you, your pulsing cunt beating like an open wound. Asshole.

"You could care for someone other than yourself." Miguel tilted his head, turning you to face the wall. He pulled himself free of his pants-- his thick cock fat against the curve of your ass. That’s what you wanted, he decided, gauging by your whine that came with his action.

"How does that get me what I want?" You shook your ass at him, waiting for him to rear back.

“This is what you wanted, hm? Fine, have it. Just shut up."

He leaned over you, your scratchy black veil catching along his stubble. He doesn’t wait for a response, pushing inside. He wasn’t just thick, he was long. But he knew you already knew that-- you knew every curve of his body, loved the thick veins on his cock that filled you so well. You scratched at the wall as he crushed you into the wall, his hips stuttering with your walls tightening him, drawing him further, impossibly deep.

Estúpida, he thought-- and knew you’d hear it. Whatever you were, you weren’t human. You were somewhere between a human and desire itself, evident in the way you looked at him, pleasured by his rutting hips against the church. The priest went back to his lecture-- the churchgoers enraptured in their worship. The only thing Miguel was enraptured with was the way your pussy tingled, the fluid soaking his cock, and the stretch in your lower belly. His hand clasped over your mouth, index finger poking into your mouth. Your tongue drew him in, fangs nipping his finger.

It earned you a hard slam, stuffing you full, your strange body catching his thrusts beautifully. He slipped his hand over your soft cunt, working your clit for your orgasm, though you deserved no such thing. Habit, he supposed. Gloria a Dios-- the churchgoers clammed with one another. Nearly out of time, your pleasure won out, gushing over his fat cock. Miguel suckled a breath, his ego demanding him to hold out, batter your sweet cunt through your orgasm.

“I’m hungry-- Give it to me,” you bit on his finger, breaking the skin and urging blood to flow into his mouth. Your body twitched violently around his cock, drawing bright pleasure forth. “Give me your cum.”

"Stay out of my dreams."

"I don't want to," you reared your head back at him, your nose tight with wrinkles. He drew you fully onto his dick, the final thrusts were sloppy and immature-- but he held out, making you angrier by the second.

"I'll cum on the floor right here, I don't give a shit."

"No, no! Fine! I promise-- I'll let you sleep," the threat of going hungry is enough that you concede, punching your fist against the wall. He grunts in response and feeds your body with whips of cum that felt far heavier than his usual. A pleasure, far sweeter than any orgasm he could give you. Miguel soaked your sweet little body with his sticky cum, chest swelling heavily against your little back. He finishes and pulls himself free. To his surprise, your cunt doesn’t leak. Miguel staggers back with a perk in his eyebrow.

You look far better for wear than he does, clumsily zipping himself back into cum stained slacks, running his hand through his sweat-soaked hair. You recline on the wall, inspecting him. He knows how he looks. He's bruised, long gashes down his chest, and properly fucked-- a mess. The manila envelope sits forgotten by your heels, your skirt-- perfect, as though he never tore it in the first place.

“You’re not human.”

Miguel bends down, picking up the folder. Not like he needs it anymore. He does, however, need that information on Project 2099. I can help you, he hears. He catches your wide, toothy smile. You've grown fangs. He isn’t surprised.

“Not even a little.”

[cicadadust]

Godzilla for my (currently unamed) au!!!

Already some things I wanna change with his design while making this. Definitely gunna give em a blue tongue. And probably add more height to the sail along the back of his tail for swimming 🫡.

But here I will ramble on about the Au, and a little bit about this Godzilla:

Welcome to my (Unnamed Au). I'll try my best to explain and keep it brief 🫡.

At some point during Earth's history, the planet's rotation on its axis gradually slowed down and changed. It almost appears as if the Earth completely stopped spinning on its axis (in actuality, it still is spinning), causing day and night to last for half a year on any given point on the planet. Due to this, the planet has been divided into three zones that shift throughout the year. The daylight zone, the twilight zone, and the midnight zone, each with their own extremes.

(I do have this quick doodle of me trying to explain it 😭. The red and blue on the planet is just to signify the different sides of Earth and how it looks like it is not rotating)

The daylight zone: the current area on Earth that faces the sun, cast into the long lasting day. Exposed to this much sunlight for this length of time causes temperatures to soar into the highest temperatures, even causing the ocean itself to heat up. Fires are not uncommon at all, nor are toxic algae blooms that choke up the ocean. There isn't much shade to help avoid the sweltering heat either, and plenty of land had turned into a desert.

The midnight zone: the current area on Earth that faces away from the sun, cast into the long lasting night. It is on the opposite spectrum of the daylight zone, with temperatures dramatically plummeting. Most things become frozen in the wasteland, even freezing parts of the ocean. The wind can be especially harsh along with snowfall on areas of the midnight zone that border the twilight zone.

The twilight zone: the current area on Earth caught between day and night, cast into moments of a long lasting sun set/sun rise depending (these can be divided into their own sub zones. The sunset/sunrise zone) Sandwiched between the extremes of hot and cold, it has caused this zone to have its own extremes. The temperature is often the most comfortable, but It is constantly ravaged by violent storms and rain as the hot and cold air mixes together. The ground itself has difficulty absorbing water, especially in the sunset zone that follows after the daylight zone, causing flooding (and then freezes in the midnight zone).

Life has become extremely difficult for the creatures and vegetation, forcing it to adapt to these new zones that dictate it now. Most life has adapted in a way that is specialized in living in one of these specific zones. Though as these zones shift throughout the year, life must adapt to that, too. Trees and tall plants are a rarity, with the extremes causing them to wither or fall before having a chance to grow tall (besides a few exceptions that have evolved to survive). Most of Earth is covered in fast growing, low demand, and thick shrub brush and plants. With creatures, they either have to migrate across the Earth to stay within their zone, or hunker down and wait out the other extremes. Those who fall behind and can not prepare often perish when trapped in another zone. Although there is one last solution - survive underground.

The Underground: the most stable place on Earth, the deeper you go sheltered from the extremes. With much difficulty adapting to the zone changes on the surface, the now nearly extinct human race has made the unground their home and have begun to slowly thrive again (mostly thanks to the previously established home of the Seatopians, Seatopia!). But being ungrounded comes with its own problems, as exit tunnels are connected all over the Earth to continue airflow to those who reside below. There are plenty of other creatures who are willing to take advantage of this as they, too, seek out a place to shelter from the extremes on the surface.

Godzilla:

Godzilla, he is the king of the daylight zone. Migrating across land and sea as he follows the shift. His limbs are strong and sturdy, allowing for almost continual and steady movement for traveling long distances and swims (although his powerful tail mostly aids in swimming). The sail along his back also helps him regulate his temperature and can even shift colors to help absorb or reflect light. Even though his teeth are sharp, most of his meals come from foraging, digging up tough roots, or even feeding on the toxic algae. Although he can not be picky, an occasional corpse from those who are unlucky will be on the menu. (His bites can be quite dangerous due to this, especially if left untreated)

[corvisclouds]

ATLA Wings AU

Have some sketches of my Avatar the last Airbender Wings AU

Some Info about this AU:

Every Element has a different type of wings.

Air has Elliptical, Water has Thermal Glider (south) and Dynamic Soaring (north), Fire has High Speed, and Earth has Passerine. Kyoshi Island has High Energy, altho you might also find those wings in other places of the Earth Kingdom. The Foggy Swamp has Power Soaring Wings

Benders usually have some kind of color coresponding to their element in their wings, this is not always the case tho. Some places (*cough* the north pole) believe more and brighter colors mean a stronger bender, which is just not true

I might draw more for this AU at a later date. I have ideas for the wing designs of the Fire Angles/Ozai's Angles but it is currently giving me a bit of trouble

If you want to know more about the types of wings I used check out @/Tazz_Bluebird on Twitter/X, I based my wings off of their charts

[kindlingkeen]

KEEEEEEN!!! 📢 (been a while, hello!)

I’ve been thinking about wing aus, and I love seeing how everyone gives different wings to characters (I’ve seen vulture, hawk, robin, angel. etc for Jason) and I was wondering which bird (or other animal/creature) wings you’d give to each batfam member? (Or anyone else you’ve got ideas for) 👀

Hey friend, it has been a while!!! 💙

Okay, so I’ve been thinking about this one for a bit. Initially I read your question wrong and was thinking winged creature (as in shifter), not just the wings themselves. So ultimately you’re going to get two sets of answers. First, the winged creatures.

Jason: A Golden Eagle. They’re huge, known for the aerial agility and hunting prowess, and their calls strike fear into the hearts of small mammals everywhere. Sometimes I toy with the idea of Jason coming out of the pit with a white head (like a bald eagle), making him appropriately unique. 🦅

Bruce: A Great Horned Owl. Huge, nocturnal, utterly silent flight, an ambush predator that swoops down from above onto their prey, absolutely wicked talons. 🦉

Dick: A Macaw, with red, green and yellow feathers obs. Beautiful, strong and agile flyers that soar and glide. They are incredibly social and intelligent. 🦜

Talia and Damian: Peregrine Falcons, on the smaller side for birds of prey, but incredibly fast and agile, able to snatch their prey out of mid air. More solitary and tend to nest in extreme habitats.

Tim: A Green Heron. I have no real justification for this other than that I’m on a lake vacation right now, and there’s a juvenile green heron that’s been visiting the shoreline by the beach I’m on. The other night I watched it clumsily land on a dock and then promptly fall off into the water, only to haul itself out and back onto the dock to sit there looking around like, ‘nobody saw that right???’ and I was like, Tim. My other thought for Tim is a Crow. Smart, resource scavengers. They’ll be nice to you if you’re nice to them, and they have long memories.

Cass: honestly, I don’t actually see her as a winged creature. It’s a toss-up between a cobra and a panther for me.

Okay, that’s my list! I’d love to hear others’ ideas!! Thanks for the prompt, friend, this was fun to think about! 🥰

[phantlvs]

Touya Todoroki | Pro Hero AU (I kind of don’t like this 😭)

“Well, well, nice of you to join the party!” Dabi, the blue flame hero exclaimed to you. A confident grin on his face that was basically a trade mark of his.

You looked down at him for a moment, turning your gaze back to the villain he was just using to showboat his skills and quirk.

“What you call a party, I call a desperate cry for attention,” you retorted looking to him for a quick moment. “Your flames are just causing unnecessary damage, Dabi.” You told him.

“Psh,” Dabi scoffed, rolling his eyes playfully.

You had a water quirk. A powerful one at that. One that could be unpredictable and hard to manage. But you spent years training to figure out how to control it better.

Dabi watched you send a somewhat calm and controlled wave to put out some of his unneeded flames.

“You on damage control while I take care of this guy?” Dabi proposed, putting his gaze back on the Villain in front of you two.

“On it.” You agreed.

“Once again the Blue Flame Hero: Dabi, and the Cascading Hero: Torrential have seemed to join forces once again!”

There was a helicopter soaring above in the air, documenting the fight for news.

It was common for this to happen. You and Dabi teaming up. And it was never like either of you particularly planned any of these. Not officially, anyways.

But these team ups the both of you, everyone agrees might be a bit too common to be coincidental anymore.

“Dabi!” You yelled, sending a wave to block and put out a burst of his flames that went a-wall, “be careful! There’s still civilians around!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know!” He yelled back. His jaw clenched as he tried to look for some way to get some advantage in this fight. “Shouldn’t there be more backup coming..” he grumbled.

He sent a wave of fire at the villain, then another right after, not giving the villain anytime to react. And you sent waves of water to contain the flames a bit more without putting them out.

Soon the villain was surrounded by a ring of fire that had been contained enough it wouldn’t burn I it and cause any unneeded destruction.

Dabi turned to look back at you, he was trying to catch your breath and so were you. And his gaze soon went up to the helicopter circling in the air, surely catching the scene and reporting on it.

“Good work,” He grinned at you, putting his hands on hips.

“Backup should be on their way to pick him up,” you dismissed his compliment, gesturing to the villain.

“Took ‘em’ long enough.” He grumbled again, but the annoyance quickly faded as he looked at you again. “So when ya’ gonna let me take you on a date?” He asked with a raise of his brow. A smug grin was set on his lips as he stared at you with his arms crossed over his chest.

“In your dreams, Dabi.” You spoke bluntly, rolling your eyes.

“Aw, c‘mon Doll!” He continued with that same grin, “I’m not that bad, y’know.”

@phantlvs

[zukosdualdao]

to leave the sun behind

summary: the gaang is about to leave the sun warrior civilization after aang spends a few weeks learning there. katara has a goodbye to make. she really doesn't want it to be goodbye.

other notes: didn't come up in the fic itself but this is an au in which ozai never gave the stipulation that zuko could be un-banished if he captured the avatar, which is why he did not do All That. instead, iroh took him to the sun warriors. also, yes there is a work study joke in here. if atla can make jokes about not qualifying for vacation time then i can do this also! (i think i am much funnier than i am.)

It's their final night staying at the ruins of the Sun Warriors—not so ruined, as it turns out. They had planned to stay for longer, and Katara still thinks maybe they should—Aang has been training every day, with the warriors and with the dragons, but there's still so much more he could learn. With the comet still months away, though, Sokka had finally pointed out that there were people searching for them, and if they didn't want this secret, ancient civilization to be destroyed for real as Azula and company pursue the Avatar, then it’s time for them to leave.

There's a banquet being held in honor of their departure tonight. They pull out a large table of stone and set with golden and orange gems, and the rice and kimodo chicken is piled high atop it.

It's genuinely a lovely evening—she smiles as she watches Sokka and Aang try their best to pretend the spices aren't getting to them, and as Toph answers questions about badgermoles from Iroh—but Katara can't help but notice someone missing and ducks out a little early, making an excuse out of an imaginary headache.

Really, though, Katara is making her way to a familiar room of stone, preparing to say a final goodbye to the Sun Warriors' apprentice.

When she and the others first arrived, it was him that found them stranded after Aang first set off a floor of spikes and looked back at the rest of their group with alarm.

The apprentice had looked at them with an unimpressed, quirked brow but didn't seem otherwise perturbed, reversing the trap and leading them to the warriors and to his uncle. From there, Aang had been judged worthy to study under the dragons and the warriors themselves.

Zuko trains with them, too, every day, diligent. All these weeks, he'd barely said three words in front of the others, but the second night, unable to sleep, Katara had stumbled across him late in the evening, practicing on his own. When he'd spotted Katara, she had reeled back at first—he seemed like too much of a loner to want company—but he'd raised his brow again, like a challenge. They'd spent the evening sparring with their respective elements, water meeting fire blow for blow, the blood in her veins soaring as they did.

After, they'd spoken until the sun was nearly risen. She'd regaled him with the stories of her travels, and he was mostly quiet, still, but when she asked questions, he answered.

Yes, he and his uncle used to be royalty, and his father was the Fire Lord as the Warriors said. No, he didn't leave home because he wanted to; he was banished. No, he no longer wanted to go back. No, he didn't want to talk about it. Yes, he'd been training with the Warriors for years.

Katara didn't ask about the scar, but her thumb ran gentle circles over it when she first kissed him.

Things have gone on like that for a handful of weeks they've been here, sparring and learning new moves from each other, talking, and kissing, sneaking away moments in the dead of night or when the others are distracted.

And now...

"I'm going to miss you," she sighs against his lips after he lets her in. His eyelashes flutter open.

"Don't say that," Zuko says wryly. "You'll give me the wrong idea." He leans back down.

"Maybe it isn't so wrong," Katara says, a little breathless as he kisses down her neck. "You could come with us, you know." She pauses. Wait. That's brilliant. Then, Aang could keep learning, and it wouldn't feel like half her soul was being torn in half as she left. (How did things happen this quickly? How does it feel like she aches wherever and whenever he's not touching her?) "You should come with us!"

Zuko freezes, looking into her eyes searchingly.

"What? Why?"

"I'm serious," Katara insists, placing her hands against his chest. Maybe he doesn't want that. "Aang's learned a lot while he's been here, training with you and the other sun warriors," she adds, feeling a little pathetic even as she hopes the argument convinces him. Zuko now looks unsure and rigid.

"I'm not a teacher," Zuko insists, his voice sounding sort of hollow. "I'm not even officially a Sun Warrior yet."

"Oh, you are in everything but name; all the elders say it," she points out. "You're just not old enough yet. You'll be of age soon, and then you will be." Katara purses her lips as he takes in her words. "Maybe this will help. You know. Hands-on experience. Like a work-study?"

Zuko laughs, some of the tension bleeding out of his gaze as he does. The sound of it is light and breathy and lovely. Katara likes that she can make him laugh. She's only ever seen his uncle accomplish it, otherwise.

"You can teach Aang," Katara promises. "You're better than you know."

His eyes don't quite meet hers, but they haven't let go of each other's embrace. "Don't say things you don't mean."

"Zuko?" She uses her fingertips to tilt his chin up, though he still avoids her gaze. "I mean it."

His eyes swim with an emotion she can't name. Katara waits for his answer, hopefully seeming more patient and less desperate than she feels.

"I'll come," Zuko says finally, the words wrapping around her like a promise. "I'll teach the Avatar. If that's... if that's what you want."

She sighs. Oh. He thinks that's all she wants. That's easily solved, then.

Katara leans her forehead against his. Time dwindles down. It is just them in here. "I want you with me," she admits as his hands tighten ever so slightly against her waist. "That's what I want."

Zuko captures her mouth in a long, gentle kiss before pressing their foreheads together again.

"I'll go wherever you are."

[frostironfudge]

I Really, Really Want To Kiss You - Bucky Barnes

Pairing: Personal Trainer!Bucky Barnes x Plus Size Fem Reader, Modern AU.

Warnings: angst, fluff, swear words, making out, allusions to body dysmorphia, a male oc being mean to the reader based on her appearance, protective bucky, mutual pining, sam has the braincell, weight loss mentioned, some not so good thoughts about herself by the reader, bucky fell first its canon for this au.

Word Count: 2.6k || Dividers: @firefly-graphics

A.N: i've been meaning to write personal trainer bucky for a while and i might make this multiple parts (maybe 1-2 parts more) but i'm not sure about it, let me know what you think! also if i expand then that may include smut.

masterlist // Ao3

Heartbeat thunderous in your ears. Breath borderline panting. Then you see him, your step falters. Your hands grab the handle bar trying to right yourself. 

Bucky’s hand shoots out to stabilise you and press the stop button on the treadmill. 

Your eyes shift from the man to Bucky. He frowns at you. 

“Where is your focus?” He worriedly tuns his gaze over you. 

“I’m okay…” You murmur, heat creeping to your cheeks. 

“You sure? I know we’re trying interval running for the first time—,”

“Sir—Bucky,” you correct yourself before he can tell you off again, “I’m okay.” You press on, the heat of his palm against your lower back grounds you more than it should. 

Blue eyes give you a once over, “Okay, how about we try again?” 

He smiles when you nod, you will your heart and mind to focus. When Bucky got assigned as your personal trainer you wanted the ground to swallow you up. 

He’s tall, beefy, with a charming smile and eyes so blue you would tie dumbbells to your feet to drown into, well maybe not that literally but controlling your feelings for him for the past three months had been difficult. 

Every-time he smiled at you, your heart would stop, every repetition he demonstrated you swear your mouth watered with drool brimming past your lips. Then when he joked around and eased your nerves over the whole ordeal to loose weight that that is what set your heart soaring. 

Bucky was sweet, encouraging, the praise for him just never stopped. Everyone at the gym adored him, even if you were mid session and anyone required help he’d look to you if it was okay. He’d jog over help them and return to you. 

He taught you to look at your journey  from the point of view of getting healthier for yourself. Reminding you that the scale is just a number. 

Just like the age gap between the two of you, fourteen years who cares? You definitely don’t, not one damn bit. 

“Ready?” His voice brings you back into the present. You nod. 

“Alright, thirty second intervals, speed at 6.5, and we’ll start at a speed of 3 for thirty seconds then switch higher.” Bucky watches for any signs of confusion on your face, you give him nothing to worry about, he gives you his beaming smile. 

Blame the heat on your cheeks on the workout. 

Blame the heat on your cheeks on the workout. 

Blame the heat on your cheeks on the workout. 

Blame the heat on your cheeks on the work—

Then he passes by again, your gym crush, Bucky had been deemed by your best-friends as your Gym Love. 

You watch through the mirror discreetly as the guy-gym crush-because you’re too anxious to even ask his name or approach him. Runs his hand through his hair and you panic when the floor beneath you moves. 

Oh, you’re on the treadmill right. You begin taking the steps, Bucky adjusts the speed to three. 

“What has you distracted? Is everything okay?” He questions and you will yourself not to look at gym crush but your damn eyes betray you because he’s deadlifting and you can hear him groan and why is the speed increasing?

Shit you will yourself to catch up. Bucky follows your gaze to the guy. Then he scoffs calculating the weight the guy is lifting. 

“Not impressive.” He mutters, attention back at you, “Alright there, Doll?”

“Mmhmmm.” You’re on the verge of beginning to pant and he lowers the speed. That damned nickname sends your heart into over drive.

You slow down to a walk catching your breath. 

“How was that?” You question trying to deflect.

“Good, you’re keeping focus.” Bucky murmurs, its stupid he knows being a little petty that you’re stealing glances of someone else. 

“Sorry, I um,” you begin, 

“No don’t apologise, Doll, ready for the next interval?” His eyes meet yours and god he just wants to lean over and kiss you senseless. 

“Yeah, I am.” You grin at him, Bucky increases the speed again. Watching your feet to see if you need any pointers on foot posture and landing. 

This goes on for another fifteen minutes before he gives you a break. When you get down from the treadmill you have to look up at Bucky again because he’s tall. So damned tall he towers over you. You’d be lying if you didn’t want him to lift you up and—, god why does working out turn your brain into a horny mess? 

“Go sit down, drink water, I’ll be back in two minutes okay?” Bucky watches you nod at his words your breath still fast, chest rising and falling, he swallows quickly heading to the main desk where Sam is stationed. 

You make your way to the bench grabbing your water. Involuntarily your eyes scan over the gym, trying to locate your crush. 

Tugging at your t-shirt. To stop it from highlighting your rolls, you sit up straighter as he passes by, heading to the machines. You drink water, then look down at your shoes then towards the area. 

Very fucking discreet, you tell yourself. 

He pays you no mind, focused on his workout. Then he looks your way you look ahead, trying not to make it obvious being caught staring. 

Bucky sighs, Sam shakes his head. 

“Just tell her.” He taps the keyboard, switching playlists. 

“She already has a crush on dudebro deadlifts double digits.” Bucky grimaces, its been three months being your personal trainer, he wanted more, much more. 

Everything about you pulled him in, the way you smile whenever greeting any of the staff, to your jokes during the sessions. The way you would light up when you made progress in your strength. 

God he remembers your scent lingering upon him after hours of you jumping into his arms when you broke your own deadlift personal record. 

Your warmth engulfing him, your skin so soft and pretty he just wanted to sink his teeth and mark you as his own, he could even hear you saying his name over and over.

“Bucky.” Your palm on his hand brings him back into the present. His brows furrow. Thank god for the desk. 

“Y-yeah Doll?” He clears his throat. Sam chortles covering it with a cough, Bucky throws him a glare, then gazes back at you. 

“You alright? It was around ten minutes I got worried…” You bite your lip. Bucky’s gaze falls to them, his tongue peeks out wetting his own bottom lip. 

Your eyes follow the movement, you swallow. 

“Yeah, I’m sorry, Sam threw paperwork on my head. I’ll walk in with you. You feel up for doing abs or have I worn you out?” He wiggles his brows. 

You giggle, “It takes a lot more than an interval training to wear me out.” 

“Are you challenging me, Doll?” His lips curve up into a smirk. 

Your core pulses at the innuendos being exchanged. 

“Maybe.” You shrug, looking away to breathe. 

Bucky chuckles, shaking his head. 

“Come on, three variations with two sets of twenty reps, I’ll go easy on ya.” He winks when you look back up at him.  

“When have you ever gone easy on me?” You feign surprise. 

“You’d know when I get rougher, Doll.” Bucky pipes back. 

Sam coughs in warning. Bucky purses his lips, thinking of thoughts that should help rid of his hidden predicament. 

Your fingers intertwine out of nervousness. Licking your lips, “I’ll wait in the studio?” 

“Yeah be there in a second.” He promises as you trace the path back. 

“Just ask her. You’re both practically eye fucking the other.” Sam waves a hand gesturing between Bucky and where you were standing. 

“She’s not interested in me—,” Bucky’s brows furrow pondering over the conversation, “do you think?”

“Man go ask her out before I throw you in the morning shift.” Sam warns as Bucky finds his way to you. 

You’re in the studio, sitting crossed legged on the floor. Fiddling with the corner of the mat. 

“Hey.” Bucky smiles when you grin at him, “Hey.” 

“So I was thinking I’d do the reps with you.” He moves to grab a mat for himself.  

“Won’t that be too slow for you?” You blink up at him. 

“Nope.” He sits on the mat, “Now, first classic crunch, ready?” 

You nod getting into position as does he, “Ready and go.” 

How Bucky is able to keep the counts and do the reps is beyond you. 

He’s staying true to his word in tandem with your movements. 

You have to will yourself to do the reps instead of watching him. The way his hair begins to fall on his forehead and without breaking his movement he shakes it away.

Beads of sweat line your forehead and you grunt laying back covering your face with your palms just as Bucky gives the last call for the rep. That last set took a lot of energy out of you. 

“Hey Doll,” Bucky leans over, you move your hands to look up at him. 

“Yeah Bucky?” breathing is still hard even more so with those azure eyes gazing down at you. 

“You okay?” He checks in, gaze tracing over you.

You nod, “Just need to catch my breath—,”

The door to the studio slams open, Bucky looks up. You sit up, gym crush stands there looking at Bucky. 

“Yes?” He questions the dudebro. 

“You’re a trainer right? I need a spotter, the dude on the front desk is with a client showing the gym. You’re the only other free trainer.” He says, Bucky raises a brow looking towards you. 

“I’m with a client.” He gestures with his palm. 

You offer a smile, “Its okay…”

Bucky scoffs when the idiot doesn’t even thank you. Just gestures to the training area for him to follow.

“Mannerless.” He comments, you frown.

Bucky wants to roll his eyes, of course you wouldn’t like anything bad said about your whatever the idiot is to you.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” You ask hopeful, even though its your day for cardio having Bucky there makes it better cause he alway made funny faces through the mirror while passing by. You did the same to him just a little more discreet if he was with a client.

“Oh I have to go help a friend move so I might not be there when you usually come in… you can do your usually routine, elliptical, treadmill, cycling or jump rope’s cool too.” He helps you up not letting go of your hand even as you both are standing.

You like that, holding Bucky’s hand. He might not like it though so you look down and he blushes moving his hand away, if though he really didn’t want to do so.

“I’ll see you day after then?” You offer, he nods.

“See you, Doll.” Bucky smiles when he spots you smiling shyly at the nickname.

The next day at the gym you feel Bucky’s absence. Usually he’s smiling, greeting you or making a joke. Checking in upon your diet and how you’re doing mentally. He always made sure to know about your headspace.

You’re getting down from the treadmill making way to the water station. That is when gym crush walks in, you make eye contact while filling your bottle, in a moment of boldness. You offer him a smile. 

He stares at you with his dark eyes, then his face morphs into a disgusted grimace. You look back to your water bottle, moving away rushing over to the locker room.

You can’t get his expression out of your head, the mirrors in the room turn sinister, you cover your face, heading into one of the stalls.

Resting your forehead against the door, trying to quiet your breathing and tears. Your weight didn’t please any man who held your romantic admirations, it was always a factor and despite the hard-work done these past few months it seemed as if this was to waste as well. 

“Fuck.” You mutter, trying to find the positives over the past few months. Everything Bucky has done for you, taught you, you sniffle. It doesn’t work. Not even the mental footage of him doing dumbbell floor presses helps to distract your mind.

Wiping your eyes you grab your bag from the locker, heading out, not bothering to look at anyone. 

As luck would have it you collide into someone, palms engulf your arms, steadying you. His cedar and patchouli scent surrounds you. Bucky.

“Doll.” Is all he says, you don’t look up at him.

You try to keep the sniffle down, but the stupid sound blubbers out. Immediately his calloused hands grasp your face, making you look up into his eyes. 

“Who did this?” Bucky’s eyes scan over the gym floor.

His gaze settles on dudebro, his jaw clenches and eyes narrow.

“Bucky, no one—,” You attempt to defuse the situation.

“Don’t lie to me, Doll.” He warns, one hand leaves your cheek, wrapping around your wrist, he pulls you into the private office.

“You’re going to tell me the truth.” Bucky demands.

“There isn’t anything to say—,”

“That’s it.” He moves without warning, grasping your hips and you’re lifted up, and settled onto the desk, your legs parted to have him stand between them chest to chest.

You’re out of breath without having moved a muscle. 

“Bucky?” Is all you can muster out, he grasps your chin with his thumb and forefinger, tilting your head back only slightly.

“Doll, you’re crying and its not the happy tears I’ve seen you shed and wiped away. Now please, please tell me what happened.” He requests, all the earlier range he harboured gone but not forgotten.

“I,” Your chest tightens and your eyes close, as though it would erase it all away. 

“Take your time, Doll.” He encourages, thumb tracing over your jaw.

You gaze into his eyes, the warm comfort in them beckoning you close, “You might think it’s stupid.” you warn.

“Try me.” He shrugs, giving a soft smile.

You swallow and then spill the entirety of the event.

“He grimaced at you?” Bucky confirms, you nod.

“I’m going to kill him.” He begins to pull away and you instinctively wrap your legs around him to stop him.

“Doll—,”

“I’m so sorry—,”

“No fuck, I’ve thought of this so many times…” Bucky trails off.

“You, you have?” Your eyes widen, as he nods again.

“You don’t know what you’ve done to me, all I can think about is you. Every sense of mine attitude to you.” He rests his forehead against yours, you close your eyes.

“I’ve thought about you too.” Your quiet admission has him smile.

“What have you thought about?” His curiosity getting the better of him.

“How your arms feel around him, how would it be to see you outside of here… to, to have you lift me up like—,” You squeal when he lifts you again, your legs wrapped around his waist, hands on his shoulders, Bucky grins mischievously.

You’re pressed against the wall and him.

“Like this?” He questions, breathless, eyes shifting between your lips and gaze.

“Yes.” the words a breathless whisper.

“Doll I really, really want to kiss you.” He admits, you raise your palm to cup his cheek, shifting your head towards him.

Bucky’s breath fans across your face, his lips are slightly chapped but soft, warm and oh so sinful. The kiss is bruising, he completely dominates and you allow him to, his tongue exploring your mouth and he sucks upon your bottom lip.

You tug on his lip as he pulls away, Bucky audibly groans. 

“You’re so beautiful, so magnificent. And you taste so addicting.” Bucky rests his forehead against yours again, this time both of you stare into each other’s eyes.

You can’t keep the grin off of your face nor can he, “So does this mean I can take you out to dinner?” He requests.

“Yeah, yeah you can.” You answer smiling, his lips meet yours again.

permanent bucky tag: @slutforsexyseabass

permanent tags: @stevesmewmew @pandaxnienke

[hahskeleton]

Frogs - Harpy AU drabble

It’s harpy Sun’s first appearance! I have a sketch for his design page, but now I have to go work in contest winner stuff :3

reblogs and feedback is appreciated!

Word Count: 1,230

Read Time: ~5-6 min (depends on reading speed)

Content Warnings: Lichtenberg figures, brief screaming, (idk what else to put lmao)

“Eclipse, have you seen Sun today?” Moon’s voice pierced the air, his groggy tone the same as it seemed it always had been.

Eclipse shrugged, standing up from a huge rice bag they used as a chair, “He left this morning. I have not seen him since.”

Moon scoffed, “I’m sure he’s gone foraging again.” He rolled his eyes, walking over to a handmade, wood cabinet filled with things Eclipse claimed to have found along the trail to the forbidden forest on one edge of the valley. Truthfully, Eclipse was quite the thief, and also quite the liar. He’s never been caught, and Moon’s never been able to tell his truths and lies apart.

Eclipse walked over to the edge of the cave, staggering outside where the path turned to a cliff just about six paces forwards, “The sky’s getting dark, Moon.” Eclipse called back in, “I’m sure it’ll rain. Perhaps storm.”

Moon took out a pan and walked over to the edge as well, looking for any sign of Sun, “If it begins to rain, tell me. I’ll be cooking up lunch.”

“Let me guess,” Eclipse knew exactly what they’d be having, “Bacon and eggs?” Sun usually cooked for them, and when Moon cooked it was always the same thing. Moon’s favorite. He nodded silently.

Eclipse watched the clouds roll slowly across the grey sky. It was humid and a breeze was barely living enough to nudge a leaf. “Moon, I’m going for a fly.” He said abruptly, stretching his large wings. Despite being the youngest of the three brothers, he had the largest wingspan.

“What? Hold on, you can’t just leave!”

Eclipse shrugged, taking five steps forward, “Sun did.” He took the sixth step and a seventh, striding right off the edge. He let himself drop for a moment until he gracefully opened his wings and glided up, flapping them as needed. He flew quickly, swiftly away from the cave, not even bothering to look back. He already knew Moon was glaring at him as he soared away.

For a long while, Eclipse flew through the mountains and fields, coming to a place he knew Sun would be. There was a huge lake several leagues from their home, and around that lake was a beautiful scene of trees, moss, vines, and stones. Sun loves to forage there, and the best part for him was Moon didn’t know about it.

Sun loved Moon more than anything in the world, but even twins as close as those two need something to keep to themselves. Eclipse came across it one day when following Sun because he was particularly bored that day. It was their secret from that time forward.

Eclipse flew low to the water, reaching his arm down and letting it drag gracefully through the lake, making water fly up behind him. He smiled at his reflection in the perfectly smooth water when he picked up his hand as he reached the shore.

He landed slowly and with a clatter of rocks, stones, and sand, then proceeded to walk into the trees. As he went, he spotted the clearing of trees and where on a rock, a yellow harpy sat with his back facing Eclipse, talking to something.

Eclipse walked through the soft grass, stopping just at the edge of the trees, “Moon’s worried.” He spoke suddenly, cracking the silence.

Sun nearly jumped out of his cloak, turning around with something hidden in his hands, “Eclipse, don’t do that!” He hollered, a smile on his face.

Eclipse smiled too, but his eyes were set on Sun’s hands that he now very slowly brung to the front of his torso. “What do you have there?” He grinned subtly. Sun flung his hands out towards him and giggled, obviously about to show him what he’d found.

He unfolded his hands and revealed a perfectly green frog that he now held by its chest with both hands, its webbed feet hanging down. “Look at this little guy!” Sun said with glee, clearly fascinated by the amphibian.

“Ew!” Eclipse screeched, holding up his hands as if to guard himself from the small animal, “Gross! Gross, put it down!” He yelled loudly, “I hate frogs!”

“I know!” Sun laughed, walking closer to Eclipse with the green creature still in his outstretched arms.

Eclipse squeaked with disgust, slowly accelerating into a run to get away from Sun’s frog, who chased him with it. “Sun, quit it!” Eclipse stopped and smacked the frog out of his brother’s hands. The frog was dropped, and it landed on its side, quickly hopping away like nothing had happened.

“Hey!” Sun gasped, “Don’t smack small animals like that!”

Eclipse cackled lightheartedly, placing his clawed hands upon his hips, “I needed to defend myself from disgusting, horrible, animals like that.”

The two brothers had now ended up near the lake, running wildly out of the small forest with that frog. Eclipse looked up at the sky, seeing the clouds getting darker and darker by the second, it seemed.

“Is it going to storm?” The squeaky voice of the cloaked harpy rung in the hot, humid air. The moisture made Eclipse’s clothes uncomfortably sticky to his feathers and his skin. “We should get back before it does.” And with that, without warning, Sun took off towards the fluffy grey skies, flying back towards the cave.

Eclipse followed, gliding a little closer to the clouds than his brother. He flew over what looked like his bright colored shadow, but it was just Sun. Despite Sun and Moon being twins, Eclipse and Sun looked more alike. Moon looked like the odd one out of the trio.

The sky far above them began to rumble and rain started to roll out of the angry clouds. Eclipse knew Sun hated flying in a storm, even the rain, so when he started to fly faster, it didn’t surprise him at all.

Eclipse did his very best to catch up with Sun, but for some reason he just couldn’t fly fast enough. He became blinded by frustration and rain, soaking him an unbelievable amount. As he soon realized he had no clue where Sun had gone, he also figured out he didn’t know which way was home.

Damn it.

Eclipse flew in all directions, trying to catch something to indicate he was going the right way, but he didn’t spot anything at all. He was lost, wasn’t he?

The next few seconds were all a blur. He heard his name being yelled, then a crack of thunder and lightning, and then… he was struck. His own screams weren’t the only ones he heard.

Eclipse screamed, flinging his head off his so-called pillow and breathing faster than a stallion could run. He clutched his shoulder in pain and grasped the collar of his shirt and pulled it aside, brushing away a few feathers to reveal his Lichtenberg Figure. The scar that the blasted flash of lightning had given him.

Sometimes, he wished his brothers hadn’t left him. Sometimes he hated them for doing so. But most of the time, he pretended he never knew them.

However, it was times like these he wanted Sun or Moon to comfort him, perhaps sooth him with a cup of honey-lemon water. Help the pain of his past go away. But alas, his mistake drove them away, and he knew, they were never going to come back.

[itsonlydana]

"passenger princess" | final chapter

the hobbit | a modern!AU by itsonlydana

❱ pairing: Thranduil x fem!reader

❱ wordcount: 7,5k

❱ summary: the rules of a man keeping love from himself and the girl who broke them

❱ warnings: mature language

❱ an: so, here it is. The last chapter. This was originally 24k on ao3 and now we hit 42k and around 148 pages on google docs. This has been unbelievable and i'm so glad to have added this and that and posted on here <3 thank you all for every comment & kudos & repost and just all of it🩷

general m.list + series m.list

🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot - especially with longer projects <3

CHAPTER NINE: WHISPERS

The drive was a lot quieter than usual.

The radio still played classical music, the soft piano music filtering through the stereo and cradling you in welcome melodies. Instead of the usual chatter, you opted for silence, preferring to listen to Thranduil as he talked to you about his day in the softest of voices.

Once or twice you huffed out a wet laugh through your nose at something he sayed, a quip against one of his coworker or a joke he thought off, nearly soundless but Thranduils lips quirked up nevertheless.

He proved to be correct about the weather forecast too; shortly after the car departed from the city streets and ventured onto the highway, the skies opened up.

Initially, the rain descended in a gentle pitter-patter, small droplets defiantly challenging the windshield wipers. The lights of passing cars transformed into watercolor circles, providing a soothing spectacle that eased your eyes and calmed your nerves.

And not once left Thranduils hand your leg for longer than necessary.

You were watching him, looking at his side profile as he drove you through the night and quietly chatting. Giving you time. Not pushing you into telling him why he had to pick you up crying and had to hold you while you were crashing down a cliff.

He'd done it without a second thought, picking you up this godless hour like he hadn't been in bed already and abandoned sleep for you.

Thranduil, who waited for you to be ready to tell him what happened, throwing his evening plans for you overboard, once again coming to get you and comforting you with his touch; the spark inside your heart soared.

If this wasn't love, what else could it be?

By the time you arrived at the Oropherion home, the soft drizzle of the rain had turned into merciless streams of water crashing down to earth, obscuring the view out the front window as soon as the ignition died and the wipers came to a stop.

The seatbelts clicked loudly.

"I forgot an umbrella."

You turned your head from the shape of the house you could make out through the water streaming down the window to Thranduil. He had leaned forward to be able to look out the window as well, head tilted sideways and his mouth curled downwards at the sides.

"I guess we will have to run," you said softly.

"No. I will run, grab one of the umbrellas in the entry hall and pick you back up."

You let out a snort and your hand all but flew to your mouth.

"What?" Thranduil asked but you shook your head. "Why did you laugh?"

Your hand fell back into your lap, down to Thranduils one. "You don't have to run and then come back only for me to be dry. That's really unnecessary," you told him, biting your lower lip as you felt a smile blooming inside you "Though it is appreciated that you would do that for me."

He mirrored your smile and it's so heartful and warming, the way his lips changed from the frown and lifted up and you could see the smile reaching his eyes, his eyebrows relaxing as well as his jaw.

"Then let us run quickly and hope we are fast enough," Thranduil agreed, leaning towards you and opening your door, then his. He looked at you. "On go?"

You nodded.

"Three."

"Two."

"One."

"Go!"

Both of you jumped out of your seats, slamming the doors shut and then you were off. The rain poured down relentlessly as you and Thranduil dashed through the downpour towards the entrance of the house.

Within seconds you were completely soaked, wet from head to toe and your clothes clung to your body when you stumbled up the steps to the door, Thranduil close behind you.

So close, that he nearly crashed into you, as he took two steps at a time and stopped just a few centimeters from where you leaned heavily against the entrance, trying to wring out some of the water out of the sweater.

His hands landed next to your head with a thump as he stopped himself, the momentum of his halting resulting in his hair following his body, smacking against your face like a lasso. Not with much force but it still had you spluttering to get a few of the strands out of your mouth.

Thranduils face contorted in embarrassment as he realized what had you smacking your lips and huffing out a cough and he threw his long hair back over his shoulder. "Don't grin at me," he groaned while pulling his keys out of his pocket "I will die of humiliation if you ever speak of this in front of Legolas."

"What of?" you teased, "That you nearly ran me over with your tall body or that I got a taste of hair because you can't control that tall body?"

"Neither!" he growled, then yanked his keys out and jammed them into the keyhole. Before turning it, he stopped, locking down at you, flattened between him and the door.

His perfect thick eyebrows raised almost in a hesitant question in themselves. "You won't, right?"

Knowing he had been an – involuntarily – witness to many of the evenings Legolas and you had spent in their living room wearing your cutest pajamas and face masks that had scared him more than once, while you painted each others nails and gossiped like you would get paid for it by the minute, you understood the underlying fear in Thranduils voice.

Chuckling, you raised a hand, and curled your fingers around one of the few strands that clung to his drenched sweater and glistening jaw.

"I won't," you said but the eyebrows rose higher at the light amusement in your voice so you reassured him while brushing the strand behind his ear, following the curve of it to the pointed tip and felt him shuddering under the light touch.

"I promise! Pinky swear that I won't tell Legolas anything that involves your hair or your body," As soon as those words were out of your mouth, you grimaced.

Thranduil did too.

That didn't came out like you had wanted it to.

Even the simple thought of telling Legolas anything that involves anything private with Thranduil... no– you're sure that this would never happen.

You had tried talking to Legolas once more about the matter, checked in with him to ask what he thought of the progress you and Thranduil had been making after the cabrio conversation, and he had simply given you his permission if he wouldn't have to call you "mother"; a compromise you had rushed to agree to.

"Ew," you murmured, teeth being close to chattering as the wind slapped a fresh wave of rain your way "Never mind."

Thranduil nodded quickly. The one hand pressed against the door slid down and to your waist, leading you into the entrance hall after the key had turned and the both of you were stumbling into the safety of the house.

Inside, water dripping on the dark hardwood floors, Thranduils other hand found your waist as well, as he led you through the dark house from behind you.

You didn't bother with turning on the lights, you trusted Thranduil with finding his way through a house he had lived in for his whole life.

It almost ended in stumbling, especially given the trail you left behind, practically begging for a "caution: wet floors" sign. Thranduil was so near that you could feel not only his hands but occasionally his chest too, particularly when rounding corners or ascending stairs.

Somehow though you found yourselves in front of a closed door on the third floor with no injuries except for that ache in your heart that while being number than earlier, seemed to be a constant companion for the time being.

You knew in an instant what was behind said closed door.

It's quite an accomplishment to know what was behind it, looming, if you would have to be specific.

There were a lot of doors in the Oropherion house: the kitchen had three, there was a pantry door, Legolas bedroom door, the guest room doors, the library doors, the door to the cellar, and if you were in the right state – beer pissed if there was no other option but preferably wine tipsy – there was no telling where you would end up.

Well, the chances of you crashing into a storage room when you were aiming for the guest room you always stayed in were pretty high, high enough Legolas – or Thranduil nowadays – would accompany you up and save to the door, making sure you slept in the bed rather than a makeshift situation out of aprons and rags.

How easy it would be to lie and say that only happened once…

But no matter the level of alcohol in your blood and head, you never dared opening this door.

This was the only door you never touched, never even stopped in front of.

Sure, in your mind you were a regular visitor but that was between you and the fantasies coming alive ever since Thranduil had picked you up from that bar the one fateful night!

In reality, notably, a reality where you were much closer to those fantasies now than ever, there had never been an opportunity to come up to the third floor.

There were only three rooms up here.

The study behind the last door at the end of the hallway was where Thranduil would sometimes disappear into. You knew he hoarded some very special editions of books that you two had discussed.

The first door was to the old nursery, now no longer used but for an empty threat Thranduil held in his hands if Legolas dared to ignore the very few rules they had. If the threat was that Legolas would move back into the nursery or if Thranduil would bring out whatever was in there was not the matter, it was enough to bring Legolas back on track if needed.

And of course…

The master bedroom.

Thranduil's bedroom.

The one Thranduil was currently opening before you, his hands on your waist and his breath hot on your neck as he steered you into the room.

Unlike you, he didn't seem to give the situation a second thought, much less a third, fourth and from the way he kissed you on the back of the head and then walked to a door on the right side of the room, he wasn't on the verge of a nervous breakdown either.

You, on the other hand, could only stare at the room unfolding, exchanging the images of it you had drawn in your mind.

The bedroom you had imagined had been clinically tidy, in no more colors than grey, white and maybe he would be crazy and had thrown some black in there, and he would've had few pictures and books but just the barest minimum to have it look like this wasn't a furniture exhibition and not too much that the room could mess with the image of the cold, serious, stern and intimidating lawyer he put out for strangers.

For once, the walls were painted a beautiful dark green with gorgeous panels that graced them from the dark wood floors to the high ceilings, similar to the bay windows that reached the ceilings as well but had a slim bench.

The windows were framed by long rusty colored curtains. These windows would surely flood the room in the sunlight whenever the weather wasn't dark and gloomy like today.

Right now you couldn't even look out, but you knew from the guest room one floor under you, that this room had the perfect view of the garden that stretched behind the house and Thranduil would be able to look out right into the cherry tree.

There was a giant king-sized bed pushed against one of the walls without windows, the sheets midnight blue and most certainly silk, the pillows propped against the wooden headboard, and there were enough of them to make it look like the perfect place to disappear into sweet dreams.

Two nightstands were on either side of the giant bed, both had a simple lamp and some burned-down candles on them, as well as a book and a picture frame that was facing the bed.

On the left side of the bedroom door was another door left ajar, allowing you a small peak into the en suite bathroom, because of course Thranduil had his own private bathroom and you nearly snickered thinking of the many hair and skin products that he would hide in there.

On the window-side of the bed were two floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, filled to overflow with books, many of which you recognized even from afar. There was also a comfortable-looking old wing chair in front of the shelves, a wine-red blanket thrown over its arms.

Your eyes wandered to the right side of the room, to the door leading to the walk-in closet where Thranduil was currently pulling out some clothes.

Next to the door was a small desk with another bookshelf. Papers lay scattered on the surface in front of a dark computer, around them opened books and even more picture frames.

The room shocked you in the best way possible.

Everything looked so… well lived in.

From the pictures on the wall, shelves and every surface that they fit onto in an aesthetical, home-y way, to the phone cable next to the bed (you would tease Thranduil about that later; after all was he the one always bickering with Legolas that he shouldn't sleep with his phone in his bed), and the used cup with a coffee stain on the side next to one of the many books next to the wing chair.

He had some potted plants as well, tall ones in between the windows and smaller ones on shelves and the benches, and they didn't even look close to dying.

Not like the little cactus in your room that you would forget to water and if you remembered you would throw in whatever you were drinking that moment into the pot.

You could even spot a pair of socks next to the bed. Next to the unmade bed.

Thranduil had said on the phone that you'd called him when he was about to retire to sleep but seeing the rustled sheets and a thrown of pajamas right before you made it all so real.

This was Thranduil's bedroom, littered with pieces of his personality and you were standing right in the middle of it…

… dripping on what was probably a very expensive carpet.

With that realization you took a step back, whipping back and forth on your heels, eyes landing on Thranduil.

"Okay, I took the liberty to pull out some clothes for you," Thranduil said and stepped out of the closet, a gray sweater and what looked like black shorts in his hands. "You can change in the bathroom over there, through the door next to the bed." The clothes landed in your hands, you carefully held them away so as to not get them too wet and Thranduils smiled at you. "If you need anything, yell, alright? There should be some towels in there as well and I have a spare toothbrush under the sink."

You just nodded.

Entering the bathroom was another shock, considering it was as big, no definitely bigger, than the whole of your room and you could have sworn even the curved bathtub was bigger than your bed.

Right then, it looked more comfortable as well.

You switched on the lights and instead of one big light, many smaller ones lit up and bathed the room in a somehow quiet light. How light could be described as 'quiet' was beyond explanation for your tired mind, it fitted nonetheless.

Peeling the cold and wet sweater off pulled more on your heartstrings than on the synapses in your brain that would normally scream because of the fabric clinging to your skin most unpleasantly.

You hoped you could wear it again another time. You carefully draped it over the edge of the tub and the dress you had put on followed regardless of how dry it had been thanks to the sweater.

You couldn't get it off fast enough.

Certainly, you were aware that you had it on; you could feel the fabric stretching over your curves.

However, the encounter with it in the large round mirror above the sink was a startling surprise. Before you knew it, your mind was replaying the events of the evening right before your eyes.

Quickly and trying to avoid the breakdown winding its way up your body you scrambled for a towel, drying off the rest of the rainwater on your damp arms and legs, as well as wringing out your hair in an attempt to at least stop the dripping.

Then you all but jumped into the warm clothes Thranduil had given to you. The sweater that now pooled over your hands was long enough to reach your thighs and as inviting as the thought of ditching the pair of shorts was, you felt the slightly cool air nipping your legs.

But not even the soft fabric and nice smell, pines, and laundry detergent, could hold off the impending tears that came up when you brushed your teeth with the promised toothbrush and stared at yourself in the mirror.

You were able to wash off the makeup with some wipes and now there was a red, puffy face that pulled the same grimaces as you, the evidence of your crying as clear as the hurt in your eyes.

After spitting out your toothpaste and washing your face once again, you turned off the lights and stepped back into the bedroom.

It was dark there as well, the room illuminated by the lamps on the bedside tables, their glow casting golden hues on the face of the man standing awkwardly in the middle of the room.

Your lips were automatically drawn upwards at the sight of Thranduil, especially now that he wore the dark blue pajamas. His hair was thrown together in a bun at the top of his head, some strands framing his face perfectly and lining up with his jaw.

His tongue swiped over his lips, cerulean eyes watching you intensely and you didn't miss when they raked over your body and how they lightened up.

"Did you find everything?"

"Yes, thank you."

More silence.

Thranduil took a step towards you, stretching his hand out in a wavy indication to the bed. "Uhm–" he cleared his throat "I don't want to impose but do you want to stay here tonight?"

Your jaw fell open at the invitation which prompted Thranduil's eyes to widen in shock. "You don't have to if you don't want it! I can bring you back downstairs to your room if you prefer some solitude after today–"

"No–"

"I wouldn't be mad, love."

"Thranduil," the second his name fell from your lips he shut his mouth.

"I will never get enough of that," he said quietly and you tilted your head in question. "Before you, my name was such a strange sound on the lips of others. Now.. now I fear that nothing I'll ever hear will sound as beautiful as my name when you say it."

Your face flushed hot at this admission, spoken so honestly that you knew it to be true.

"Well, uhm, Thran– Thranduil, I wouldn't mind… sleeping here, I mean," you rambled on, the thoughts in your brain scrambled like eggs or flown away like the leafs on the cherry tree outside; his words were a strong wind shaking your composure to the point you adverted your eyes in the fear of proclaiming all your love all of the sudden.

What came out your mouth instead, was a long yawn.

The exhaustion of the last two hours (how it had been only two and not more since the party) was rushing to your head now that you were finally in warm and dry clothes and additionally in Thranduils company, your body aching for rest.

Thranduil ultimately smiled, nodding once before he placed his hand on your lower back and turned you around. "Then it would be my absolute pleasure to have you here with me this night and every night you wish. Now, hush hush to bed or else you'll fall asleep right there"

Your cheeks turned another shade of pink and you wished the guest room a swift goodbye, not once feeling bad about abandoning the room next to your best friend if it meant you could sleep next to Thranduil.

That one morning you had awoken on the sofa was the sweetest of memories, especially the feeling that his tall body hugging you close to his chest had awoken.

He was someone that could protect you.

The moment you climbed onto the bed – and yes, climbed; the bed was high enough to have you move with one knee first and then try to gracefully jump the last part – the fabric of the sheets drew you in with their soft and light feel to it.

Thranduil joined you, slipping under the sheet on the right side of the bed and arranging the pillows in his back to his liking.

You observed the action, the routine in the movement of his hands as they pulled out the hair tie that had held his hair back and now removed, let the silver strands fall down his back and sides.

He grabbed his phone after he discarded the tie on the nightstand, the glow of the screen in the dark reflecting in his eyes as he switched to his alarm app and turned off the one single alarm that he had.

You snorted at that, pulling his attention to you.

"Sorry," you quickly said at his raised eyebrow "I didn't want to snoop. It's just funny that you have a single alarm while my phone in the morning rings nearly at a one-minute tact."

Thranduil chuckled and looked at his phone before turning to you. "Oh, I wondered why the hell you were getting calls in the morning when you sleep here. Not even my line in the office is that busy. And you still oversleep with that awful noise blasting your eardrums," he teased and you rolled your eyes at him.

"I do not oversleep!"

"You don't? My love, I can hear those appalling ring tones for what? An hour, two?"

"That's not oversleeping," you retaliated and lifted your nose into the air "I simply set my alarms an hour before I have to wake up so I can get that sweet sensation of being able to fall back asleep again and again," you sighed, reminiscent of the moments your head was being pulled back into the world of dreams

"and again..."

"You can't possibly fall asleep in those five– no two minutes that your phone is quiet before the next alarm screams out," Thranduil looked at you with disbelief.

"Of course I can, I'm a student. I will even accept the five minutes I have when Professor Baggins is making himself a cup of tea"

The sole look on your face told Thranduil you were serious and he shook his head, laughing to himself.

"It's been a long day," Thranduil said and you stifled a yawn. He chuckled, leaning over the small gap between you and breathed a short kiss on your forehead. "Let's sleep, my love," he murmured against your skin there and kissed you again. "You need the rest and I do too. We shall not wake with any alarm, you will sleep as long as you want."

"Uhm, then I would never leave this bed. Ever," you said and grinned, leaning against his lips in an attempt to get another kiss out of it.

He complied, laughing while doing it and the hot air of his breath caressed your face nearly as intimate as his hands on the side of your face.

You smiled but feigned a serious voice, one that could sound threatening if your smile wouldn't have shone through it: "I mean it! I will never ever get out of this bed, you will have to deal with me being here until I've worn out these gorgeous sheets."

Huffing, Thranduil sat back, a grin wide on his face. "Oh, how terrible that sounds! Most unfortunate... for your friends and university. I shall call them right in the morning and tell them Sleeping Beauty has fallen into her slumber and there was nothing I could do against it."

The sheets rustled as you giggled and wiggled down until your head rested comfortably on one of the pillows.

He looked down at you, the grin fell to a dramatic frown as when he reached over and stroked your cheek. "This fate must be so hard on you; staying here with me for all eternity."

You copied the dramatic sigh of his and tilted your head to face the ceiling. "The journey will be hard, but these pillows are soft enough to even it out. Besides, I'm sure there are worse possible outcomes for my future than sleeping here and waiting for a pretty prince to kiss me awake"

Grinning a Cheshire cat-like grin you snuggled deeper into the covers, pulling the sheet up your chest and inhaled the very masculine smell of them.. Thranduils smell.

"Maybe you can send Legolas up here to try"

A low blow, yes, you knew.

But Thranduil simply raised his eyebrow, he was so good at that, you envied him and wondered if he was born with simple talent or if he had worked for the perfection of the timing and the arch, and pushed the hair that had fallen on his chest back behind him.

"I would lock the door before allowing that," his lips curled in amusement.

Looking him up and down you pinched your lips. "Now that you say that, you do have an astonishing resemblance to Mother Gothel," For a moment you pondered "We would only need to dye your hair black, a shame, but– oh look! You even have the same scowl!"

Thranduil did indeed stare you down, cerulean eyes glaring until you saw the tiniest twinkle of mischief not just in his gaze but in the corner of his mouth as well. "I fail to see a resemblance between you and Rapunzel but if you exchange the Adam Sandler look you are wearing right now with a white nightgown I could see you as a slightly more obstinate Berta Manson," He reached over again and poked a long and slender finger into the pout of your cheeks. "And look at that, even the third floor fits!"

You gasped out loud at that, feigning hurt across your features whilst crossing your arms in front of your chest.

But before you could think of anything to retort, a yawn took over for you, breaking the teasing.

Thranduil promptly dropped his act as well, not fighting the besotted smile as he gave you another kiss, this time to the cheek. His hair tickled you when he leaned down and you scrunched your nose.

"As much as I would love to hear what comparisons you could up with," he started and his voice was low, deep, rolling through your entire body in pleasant waves "I believe sleep is in order. Good night my darling, sleep well." He leaned to the side and grabbed the cable hanging there, connected it with his phone, and set it down on the table, turning off the lights while he was at it.

Without making much noise Thranduil settled into the pillows again and his legs brushed yours under the covers.

"Excuse me", he said softly and drew back.

The rain was still heavy against the windows, supported by a low rumbling in the distance and the howling of the wind that shook the trees outside the house.

Nature was loud with everything, from the brewing thunder to the raindrops collecting in a puddle on the window sill in a constant drip drip drip...

The silence inside the room was unbearable loud for you. The rustling of the sheets when you moved even the tiniest bit was as loud in your ears as the roaring ocean waves crashing against the shore, hell, you even thought your swallowing and blinking would make enough noise for Thranduil to hear.

Just as all the lights had gone out, something had settled over the room.

You couldn't put your finger on it, didn't know what it was exactly that was now present but you could feel it in your stomach.

It wasn't awkwardness.

Not like you had sometimes felt it after one night stands when the guy would stay in your room and it would suffocate you to have this person next to you that you really didn't want to have there.

Not like you had felt it the first time you had to crash at Aragorns and he you had fought about where you would sleep and he'd made the argument that you both were adults and could sleep in one bed after twenty minutes of back and forth.

You had kept your distance to him that night and it was like every bit of friendly affection was put on hold for the six hours you had tried not to move and accidentally brush against him.

It wasn't like that now.

It wasn't discomfort either.

It was more pressing, eating away at you and crawling it's way up your body, from your stomach where it fluttered similar to nervousness, biting down in your chest and had you taking a deep breath until you felt it in your throat.

You tried to swallow only to found your mouth full of words that pressed against your teeth and lips, urging to be said out loud into the silence of the room.

You slightly opened your mouth, wettened your lips as the words formed each other to a sentence.

A statement.

A question.

"You never asked what happened tonight."

A whisper.

And then, the rustling of sheets.

Thranduils voice was hesitant at first: "It isn't my place to question it. I figured you would either tell me when you are ready or not at all and I would be fine with it either way." While he talked you could hear and feel him moving, sitting up against the pillows again. "I was worried, god yes and so much, but as soon as I knew that you were safe– safe with me, then I gave you the choice," he talked quietly, concern etched into the words when he seemed to remember the phone call.

The answer wasn't enough to satisfy the restlessness that harbored your body, it seemed to fuel it further and you had to sit up as well to try to calm a few of the nerves. "Yes, but wouldn't you want to know?" you asked in the direction you could make his face out. "I had you driving to the city without telling you anything and you did it. Without question."

"Are you mad at me for doing so?" he asked, the frown audible in his voice.

Your frustration grew and you felt the childish need to kick your legs or cry again. "No!" you said, far too loud and immediately lowered your voice, "No, I'm not mad. I just can't wrap my head around it. If I had written any of my friends they wouldn't have let go until I told them anything and then try to strangle whoever is responsible."

In a second the lights were switched on again and you saw a horrified look on Thranduils face. "Whoever is responsible?" he repeated, the words strangely choked "I– sweetheart I believe you if you tell me you are alright but if there is anyone out there that hurt you I promise you I can help."

You lowered your head as he talked but soft and cold fingers on your chin forced you to look at him again.

His eyes wandered over your face with the same precision of taking everything in and he fixed you with a worried expression. "I care for you, very much so and I know this day was exhausting for you so if you want us to go back to sleep I'll rest but you worry me. Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Could you hold me? Please?"

It took a lot for the words to come out, the question not an easy one but you found yourself being tugged over to Thranduil, the man pulling you without as much as a question or hesitation, and struggle.

You landed on his lap in seconds, your knees digging into the pillows at either side of him and you fell into his chest with a deep sigh.

Almost instantly his arms wrapped around you, pulling the sheet up to cover your back and him with it and you rested your head on his shoulder, your arms holding onto him with the same eagerness to hold him close as his.

"There was an argument at the party," you began, whispering the words into his shoulder loud enough for him to hear them.

"My roommate wanted me to meet a guy, the brother of the guy she had been hanging out with; and at first I made a joke about her with these two guys, brothers because she had been joking too but then she told me one would be there for me."

Pausing, you took a deep breath. Your hands had wandered, twirling starlight blonde strands between your fingers. It calmed you, grounded you.

"And I was shocked, really shocked and annoyed because why would she invite a guy for me to make out with as if I didn't have a say in it? Who does that? I have told here before that that's not something I do, especially not now…" your voice trailed off, "Not since you."

"She got angry so fast. In one second she was laughing about making out with two guys and in the next she said these really hurtful things and I stood there, listening to her yelling at me at a party I originally didn't even want to be at and she didn't stop, didn't pause, just throwing every negative thought she had about me on me like our friendship had meant nothing. Well, it wasn't really a friendship."

You were two identical puzzle pieces that had somehow pressed into each other when you had met in your shared apartment in the dorm three weeks before the start of university.

A friendship, much more based on forced harmony and the desire to desperately know someone in this new place than matching preferences.

The rest grew around the shared space, shared experience and somehow you found things you both enjoyed, partying mostly, before you concentrated on the friendship with the boys.

"She was so mean, Thranduil," you mumbled, hands continuing their work on braiding his hair absently minded. "I had to get out of there, it became to much too fast and I couldn't look at anyone anymore. The people there must have heard everything... there were some guys I knew from Saurons class– I don't even want to think about what they think of me now."

Thranduils hand stopped the reassuring movements on your back and they moved up to your neck, guiding your head to look at him.

"I am so very sorry that happened to you," he started and his eyebrows drew together over the cerulean eyes filled with concern.

"Firstly I think however she thought she was helping you with inviting that boy, she should've checked with you and accepted whatever answer you gave her. I don't want to defend her in any way but maybe in her mind that was how she wanted to spend the evening with you." He worded his opinion carefully, ever the lawyer and you could imagine that he had quite a bit of practice with Legolas as well.

"Yes, she did. After I moved into the dorm we went out.. a lot," you abandoned the finished braid and moved to the next few strands of hair, right behind his ear. "And sometimes she would bring a guy home and I did too, once or twice. It didn't made me happy, not really. I think she was jealous because I have Legolas and Gimli and Aragorn and with them I don't need some guy and alcohol to tolerate a party."

"But jealousy isn't a good enough explanation for hurting you, nothing is," Thranduil moved his head, giving you room to pull out some of the long hair from behind him before settling again. "Do you want to tell me what she said?"

You froze, hands still in his hair, thin strands slipping between your fingers like water.

'Do you know how disgusting it is to see you being driven home at night by a man as old as my father? Not to mention it's your best friend's father'

'At first I really believed you were sleeping with Legolas since you were always with him and god I would have understood that'

'Is he paying you for sex? Or what does he want from you of all people?'

It was like you were confronted with them for the first time, your body reacting to remembering the tone, the venom and you tensed up.

Thranduil felt it inevitably as your thighs squeezed around his legs and started to pull in to your chest.

"Hey," he whispered, leaning forward to press his forehead against yours "Breathe for me, darling. Everything is alright, you are here."

"No it's not," you let out a breath as instructed, sitting up on Thranduils lap. "It's not and it's not fair that she can say these things and here I am, stupid enough to believe them.. or not doubt them. Stupid–"

"You are not stupid!" Thranduil said, his voice taking on a stern tone "You are far from it."

"Then how do you explain that it takes a simple 'no one really wants you if you're not fucking them' to have me crying on a curb in the middle of the night?"

You nearly didn't dare to open your eyes again, not when the tears were starting collect in them like the rain drops on the window sill but then Thranduils hands cupped your face fully, hands on your cheek and his thumbs followed the curve of your trembling lips.

"Look at me. Please, look at me," he whispered and you couldn't not follow.

The sight of Thranduil was blurred until you blinked a few times, sniffing to fight the tears from falling.

Thranduil's face was so close to you, close enough to nearly feel the words he was speaking. "You are a wonderful woman, my love, and these thoughts are poisoning your mind. If she said these things she doesn't know you as I do," He paused, holding your gaze and his heartbeat thrummed in your chest.

It beat in the same tact as the rain against the window.

Building up as your hand slid down from his hair to his chest, halting right above his heart.

"You never kiss me," you said in nothing more than an exhaled breath and the beat under your hand stuttered.

His eyes flickered down to where his thumbs where swiping over your mouth, hesitation in them when he looked back at you. "I know, I know. I wanted to, god I wanted to kiss you every time I dropped you off at your dorm and hated myself for letting you go with that look in your eyes that waited for me to do so," his voice trailed off into a sigh, his nose nudging against yours "To be honest with you my love, I was scared of how deep I would fall if I got closer to you, that I would lose myself. Ever since the night you stood in front of that painting, I could feel myself losing control over the rules I had set."

"Rules?" you interrupted, too confused to let that conversation drift away from that specific point.

He sighed again. "Yes, rules. Stupid ones really. When Legolas started talking about you I was intrigued, glad he found friends, yes, but the more time he spend just awing about your wit and how smart you were, helping him through exams, forcing him to study the more curious I got."

Thranduil's hands followed the curve of your cheekbone, continuing to talk as he caressed the skin in gentle movements that kept your head steadied on him.

"And then imagine my surprise when I picked you up that night at the bar–" He kissed the tip of your nose, "and here you were, not only smart, polite and so nervous but beautiful as well. And then you came over more and more, spending the night, reading more books in my library than I could count and you started these discussions at the breakfast table"

Thranduil huffed at the memory, shaking his head minimally.

"Politics, literature, oh even that one morning when you convinced Legolas to not skip class and he went out of the house with his night wear just because he wanted you to stop talking! I knew that if I didn't hold myself back I would move through hell and back if you asked me to. So I thought of these rules."

"Not touching you, not staring at you in awe, not lingering in the living room when you were over–", he counted on his finger of one hand.

"You did a good job at that," you whispered. Thranduil huffed out a laugh, his whole body heaving under you.

He nodded, "Yes, I may have failed sometimes–" You stared at him "Okay often! All that fell away after the moment at the painting. I knew I would never rest peacefully if I didn't try to find out what your true feelings were after you stared up at me."

"That's when things moved a lot faster. Why you were all hot-and-cold. " you concluded, your head feeling all fuzzy after listening to him.

All of it fell into place then, the hesitant touches, the disappearing into his study.

Have you two been suffering for much longer if you could have just talked to each other? But then, the teasing and the tension had been utterly electrifying.

"And, please tell me if I'm wrong, the night you asked me out, to the concert I mean, were you sure then? That this could work?"

Thranduil nodded, nose once again brushing against you. His hands fell down to your waist, which you gratefully leaned into. Your face had grown considerably warmer with his fingers stroking your lips.

"It was either the concert or Netflix and chill," he responded in such a wishful tone that had you laughing out loud.

"That wasn't my proudest moment. I swear you asking me out on a date was unbelievable. I missed the whole lecture from Sauron the next day because all I could think about was if you had been serious"

"Of course I was serious, the evening is all planned out in my mind. Frankly, I had planned it when I got the tickets and still had to ask you if you wanted to go. But I think we are getting of track here," You stared at him, thighs shuffling nervously around. You saw him swallowing, adams apple bobbing in his throat as his eyes darted down to your lips.

"I think," he started with his voice an octave deeper than before "I would very much like to kiss you now– if you'll still have me"

All you could do was nod and then Thranduils lips hovered over yours, his eyes searching your face for a final permission and when you gave it to him in a barely audible "please," his lips finally touched yours.

The first kiss was soft, almost just a brush. It was the catalyst, the lighter for the fire sizzling inside you.

You closed your eyes and let yourself fall. Hands fisted in his shirt you leaned closer, closing the gap between you for another kiss, this one more daring, lips starting to move against each other in a hurry.

Thranduils hands grabbed your waist more forwardly, bunshing the fabric up, fingertips ghosting over your heated skin and you gasped into his mouth at the feeling of the cool and smooth digits.

He used it as an opportunity and licked over your lips with his tongue, crashing every thought you would ever had into a mess.

This was not like other first-kisses, this was not some fumbling around and trying to get into a rhythm.

Thranduil's lips moved with a purpose and directed urgency reflecting the hundreds of thoughts you both shared individually about this moment.

A deep and rumbling hum of appreciation vibrated in his chest and his hands spread all over your hips, holding you close to him as if you would ever think of leaving again.

When you broke apart, gasping for air and chest heaving, you could only stare at him. Thranduil's gaze was wandering over your face, dilated pupils hushing right and back, taking you all in in a way, gaze so pure and open with all of his feelings pouring out of it, that your heart screamed and her bones ached.

It was then and it was right.

There was no more space, no more shadows, just you and him.

"Again"

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