#things have been Progressing. n like this is slow burn territory so its like a . ... he messaged me first outta the blue. ABOUT SCHOOL.

[bangcakes]

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[sweetlyskz]

Emerald Gem||Chapter 3

Chapter one|Chapter two|Chapter three|Chapter four|Chapter five|Chapter six|Chapter seven|Chapter eight|Chapter nine|Chapter ten(finale!)|

Pairing: Hybrid!OT7 x fem!reader

Overview: Living away from society has its perks. All natural food from your thoroughly cultivated farm, no nosy neighbors, and peace and security with your animals. But sometimes you did get lonely, having no one the talk to but the pigs. However, when 7 extremely wanted hybrids stable upon your deserted farm, everything changes.

Genre: Hybrid Au, Strangers to lovers, slow burn, smut, fluff

Warnings: Suggestive themes, language, mentions of abuse and trauma

Word count: 1.5k

Unedited

He was avoiding you. You could tell. He made it very obvious. Each morning you woke up, he was going to sleep. And every night you went to sleep, he was just waking up, but he didn't dare leave the room, for fear that he would run into you.

Joon was still being Joon, and the Situation with Jimin made it worse. You weren't sure if he knew what happened between you and Jimin, but you didn't ask to find out either. However, he was eating more and more. At least he can trust you enough to eat your cooking. That's progress, right?

Before you knew it, the boys had been with you for two weeks. Some of them had become pretty comfortable. Taking the advice Taehyung gave you, you bought some cat scratchers for Yoongi. All of the wolf hybrids in the pack would go in the backyard to let all their energy out, except Joon. He just watched over them, scolding them whenever they would chase the chickens.

Jungkook was your new best friend. He stuck by your side like glue, your big buff teddy bear. Yoongi was quiet, reserved. He spoke to you often, but he tried not to talk for longer than a couple minutes. Jin and Taehyung were the best of help. He always cook meals, and when it's time to farm, he never lets you do anything yourself. Hoseok was still timid and flighty, but he was loyal. This group of dangerous hybrids was slowing becoming a loving family... very slowly.

"Seriously Tae, get your own!" Jungkook and Taehyung were fighting over the new snacks you had gotten them. One thing you learned about about kook was that he was very territorial over his belongings. That's why you had a specific drawer of snacks with his name on it.

Unfortunately, that wasn't enough to stop Taehyung.

"Just one bite, please!" They were playing tug of war with the bag of chips. Jungkook was winning. "You have a whole box of them! I can't have just one?"

"No! You can't", he protested. While trying to tear the chips from Tae's grasp, the bag rips, chips flying in the air and landing all over the kitchen.

"Look at what you did!" Tae accused, bending down to pick everything up. A broom would've been more efficient but he wasn't sure where you kept it. "Hurry up and help me clean before Y/n sees it!"

Swiftly, Jungkook helps pick up the salty potato chips. Before exiting the kitchen, they look around one more time to make sure there wasn't even a single crumb on the floor.

And with that, the argument over the chips was over, never brought up again...

You noticed that Jimin loved hanging out in your greenhouse, admiring all of your colorful flowers. You wanted to give him some space, but while watching him walk around the greenhouse you had the urge to join him.

"Those are vincas, by the way", you whispered loud enough for him to hear you, fiddling with your fingers.

He appeared to be startled by your presence- rightfully so. His mouth hung open, looking as if he wanted to say something. You stoped him before he could get the chance.

"Before you say anything. Let me just apologize first-"

He shook his head. "Don't. There's no need to apologize. You did nothing wrong... I should be the one apologizing. I know that hybrids and humans aren't allowed to interact i-in that way- very selfish of me."

"What are you talking about?" You may have done a lot of research on hybrids, but you never did any on their relationship with people. Maybe you should've...

"In the lab they always told us..", Jimins mind went back to the days he wished to never remember.

The lab was cold, ice cold. Stuffed in cages, the wolves shivered, huddled together for warmth. One by one, the men in lab coats sedated the wolves, fearing being bit by them.

"This one is feisty!" The researcher laughed, holding the hybrid by the spikey collar as the medicine kicked in. The others in the cage kicked and pulled on the metal bars.

"Please! He's tired, he can't take anymore!" The pack leader begged. "Take me! Take me instead, I'll do anything."

The researcher came up to the cage with a cane, banging it on the bars. "Listen here, mutt", he hissed. "Each of us have a part to play. Your is to be obedient to your superiors, understood?"

The other men laughed and applauded him for putting Joon in his place. "That's right! Show him what happens when mutts defy humans..."

Everyone in the lab agreed, shouting as if the lab had become the coliseum. A fox hybrid ran up to the bars, getting down on his knees, head pointed to the floor.

"Please excuse him, sir. We know are place is and will always be behind these bars. Please have mercy", he pleaded.

The researcher smirked. "Always remember your place. You will never have what we have. No human will ever want you, not even as a pet- definitely not as a lover. Remember this- your barely human, and will never be treated as such..."

Jimin was heavily drugged up, laid out on the surgery table. However, what the researcher said, his words- Jimin remembered every last bit of it. It still rang in his ears. You will never be treated as human...

And so, if I'm not going to be treated as one, why try and act like one? Why not let my wolf counterpart take over? These thoughts dangled over Jimin's head. And with those thoughts, he used every last bit of his strength to stab one of the researchers with a knife- the same knife they were gonna use to rip him open.

Namjoon grabbed the other man through the metal bars, choking him until his eyes rolled backwards. Jimin rolled off of the table, and the rest is a blur.

Next thing they knew, the men in lab coats were dead, and all of the hybrids in the lab were freed by Jimin's hands. With how weak he was, it truly was a miracle. He saved the lives of over a hundred hybrids.

The next few months after, these hybrids hid in the woods, using their primal instincts to survive. Maybe those men were right. Maybe they were never human to begin with.

That's what they thought, but those thoughts went away when they met you. The person who was kind enough to let them in their home, give the somewhere to rest their head. It was you. You were their person.

But sadly, you couldn't erase the damage that had been done. You couldn't get rid of the bad memories, the mistreatment. And that moment you showed a bit of affection for Jimin, he was elated, but the voices started speaking to him.

And then men in the lab coats came to him saying, this won't last forever...

***

"Why didn't you tell me? I don't ever want to make you uncomfortable in any way!"

Jimin told you his story, his deep-rooted fears. You both laid in a field of daisies as he confided in you. It's difficult for you to explain the emotions you were feeling as he told his past. Sympathy? Rage? Both?

"Because... A part of me- actually all of me wanted to. I want to be yours. But the thoughts- they're stuck in my brain and resurface every time I get even a little bit of hope." Jimin's head hung low, picking the flowers from the fresh soiling and plucking each petal one by one.

She loves me...she loves me not... she might love me?

You grabbed his hands gently, holding them between yours. "Look at me", you asked him softly. He obeyed, of course.

"You are half wolf, that part is true. But Park Jimin, you are human! You more human than any human I've ever encountered! You're kind, charismatic, and the most thoughtful person I have ever met.

Your words brought tears to his eyes, and seeing him cry made you eyes swell, too. You enveloped him, hugged him tightly- but not too tight. Just enough to show how much you mean it. Then you placed a loving kiss on his forehead.

"You deserve this, Minnie." The new nickname perked his ears. You could tell he liked it. "You deserve life. An amazing fucking life."

"T-thank you", he whispered. "I- I can't thank you enough."

"Don't thank me. Just get better. Seeing you hurt makes me hurt. And seeing you scared makes me scared. I swear on everything I love that you will never go back there, or anywhere."

"But, once Joon is ready, we'll be gone", Jimin confessed. "I don't want to leave, but he also has his own story to tell."

You pondered, never daring to remove Jimin from your grasp. Maybe you can convince him to stay permanently? Maybe there is something you can do to ease the pain...

"Don't worry your pretty little head, just rest." You gave his hair a fluff, earning a cheesy smile from him. And just like that, you both napped in the field of daisy, his arms wrapped around your waist and your hands holding his head close to your chest.

You have to make things right...

~Taglist! (closing soon!!)

@yoongicatcat @wifflepuff1344 @unwillingly-oblivious @shycreationdreamland @emer-syn @rinkud @amimami1991 @singukieee @nikkiordonez12 @xicanacorpse @cestlabellemort @whipwhoops @spider-thot0115 @ddaeng-angmoh @silscintilla @readerofallthingss @welcometomyworld13 @danielle143 @kookiesbunny @yoongiigolden @woozixo@anaspectoflife @blackrockshooter780 @famousdelusionobservation @jewishmommy @talyaaas-blog @eashmo @jaiele @kaceypdf @reallysparklychaos

~Permanent taglist!

@famousdelusionobservation @marblemoonstones @stupendousliteraturewritingoaf @fearnotfimmie @v-love @tired7o7

[tarithenurse]

To the point - 3

Pairing: au!Satoru Gojō x fem!reader Content: All the smut. Add a pinch of dom/sub, a drizzle of bondage, sweeten with pain, let it simmer for a moment. No proofing. A/N: Third and final chapter...and longer than expected.

3. Point taken

I should not have done that. Walking towards your last appointment, you’re not worrying about the floofy, pastel coloured dress you’re wearing (although it’s not your usual go-to style) but what’s underneath it. No one can see it: hidden beneath the almost knee-long, flowy skirt and the silken panties hides the result of a great deal of work that you never had expected to get done. I should. Not. Have done that. But you can’t undo it.

Face glowing hot, you try to ignore the reflection in the glass door as you enter the tattoo parlour. There’s no one around at the front. No sign of other customers in any of the two small rooms...at least it doesn’t seem so judging by the lack of sounds.

“Mind locking and turning the sign?” Gojō’s voice calls from behind the curtain at the left cubicle.

A muted, little croak is the only answer you can offer aside from doing as asked. Get yourself together! The mirrored motion of straightening up, pushing the shoulders back, catches your eye once more. Not bad, if you do say so yourself. Almost...innocent looking. That, of course, would be a lie and knowing that emboldens you enough to keep your head high as you pass the curtain.

“Well, hell-ooo,” Gojō purrs at the sight, eyes travelling over your form appreciatively.

It should have been you saying something to showcase the amazement you feel: everywhere are candles and flowers, in a corner is a beautifully painted box (closed and absolutely curiosity inducing), and music is flowing from Satoru’s docked phone.

He can see enough without the electric lights on? That’s when it hits you that he isn’t wearing the usual sunglasses. Perhaps he’s sensitive to the light. Why’ve I never asked?

“Hop up, princess.”

Technically, he partially lifts you up, large hands wrapping around your waist only to slide down slowly along your thighs before guiding your legs apart and into place. His fingers are hot against your flesh, as he rests your left leg in the cradle. Crystalline gaze tracking the shift of the skirt as it falls towards your hip, baring the work in progress.

“Perhaps -” he pecks a kiss to the inside of your knee -”we should take some precautions this time?”

There’s barely enough air in your lungs to answer. “Such as?”

Gojō grins wickedly. “Getting rid of these.” He curls the fingertips up under the dress, hooking onto the edge of the panties. “Would be a shame to ruin them.”

And then you remember and you catch his hands in yours. “I...I...don’t know if...ermm...”

“So shy, princess. Well...I guess it’s only fair that you aren’t the only one on display.”

And true to his words, he pulls off the t-shirt to grant you with a delicious view – there really is no better word to describe the lithe, muscular build. He isn’t bulky, but each muscle is clearly defined and makes your imagination’s creativity pale. You’re too distracted to notice where he drops the shirt. But you do see his hands go for the button and fly of his jeans and your pussy does respond to the view as he reveals himself fully for the first time, confirming the suspicion from the night you danced with him.

“Better, sweetie?” He saunters back between your legs, each movement enthralling and full of confidence.

Nothing stops you, as you sit up to reach out. Fingertips softly trace the lines of his body and turning him around. There’s a fairly big tattoo on his back and it takes a moment before your can extricate your focus from the individual strokes (symbols) of the pattern to see that the whole makes out wings that move with his shoulders and shoulder blades. It could have been tacky. It is ethereal.

“Like what you see?” He flexes cheekily, a goofy grin banishing the rest of the awkwardness you had accumulated over the last days.

“Oh yes.”

A large hands splays over your pussy, thumb rubbing your inner thigh and sending sparks to your abdomen, your chest. Then it’s gone, and the next touch is that of the needles jabbing into your skin.

Sweet pain mingles with fiery caresses as Gojō carries your through for an hour or more on the verge of ecstasy without once passing the silken barrier and by the time he takes a break to focus completely on you, you’re a whimpering mess, begging for more.

There’s no reason to oppose him as Satoru lifts the dress over your head, leaving you in nothing but your lingerie (which, for once, matches).

“Sweet princess,” he croons against your belly, hands scooting under you to grope your ass, “you want more?”

“Y-yes yees...”

Your own hands are clamped on to the edge of the seat, hips automatically tilting towards him until he pulls away. Through a haze, you see him go and open the box, pulling out something small enough that he can hide it in his hand. Wait...two somethings.

“Can you be a good girl for me?” Of course you can, you will be anything for him. “Put this into your sweet cunt.”

He hands you one of the things: a silicone bullet, smooth and slightly warmed from his touch. There’s no hesitation as you slip your hands beneath the panties, gathering the slick on the toy. It’s not what you had expected, not quite what you need, but it makes you moan to push it past your entrance and feel it almost plop into place. It’s not on purpose when your fingers linger to stroke your folds.

A strong hand clamps around your wrist. “Did I tell you to play with yourself?”

“No-o,” you gasp.

Brilliant eyes have grown icy. “Then why did you?”

“I just...I need m- I need you please.”

He can’t hide the shrewd smile completely. “Only if you’re a good girl. Are you gonna be good from now on?”

“Yesyesyes! I’ll be good, I’ll be so good for you.”

Returning your hand to the edge of the seat, he leans in over you, hips pushing against your inner thighs and his cock twitching against your pussy. Gojō’s chest is hard and warm against yours. His lips soft along your jaw.

“Good,” he whispers, “otherwise I’d have to tie you u-” interrupted by an involuntary roll of your hips, his eyes search your features before he continues, “...oh. I see. Are you sure?”

If I’m not allowed to touch and he doesn’t do it? You nod, but it’s probably a new roll of your hips that convinces him to find two leather straps in the box, one for each wrist. He’s gentle as he ties you to the seat, whispering sweet promises and explaining how to navigate this new territory safely. When done, Gojō kisses you agonizingly slow and deep and your brain can’t help but imagine how it would feel if he was using his tongue like that but on your pussy instead. Tense and hot, clenching around nothing...and he smiles as he retracts because he knows and his cock is damp from having pressed against your soaked panties.

“Mmm, perfect,” the words are mumbled against your cleavage and then repeated as he kisses his way down your body in a straight line.

Almost. Almost there. But of course he skips where you need him the most and you have to bite back a whine as he sets to work on the artwork again.

Kisses. Fingers massaging and rubbing. Soft bites. Each sends new jolts through your body, keeping you close to the edge with no risk of toppling over. Want more. As if on cue, a rumble rocks through your cunt, making it clench around the toy you had forgotten all about in your frustration. Maybe it’s a gasp (it could be a moan) and Satoru understands the sentiment perfectly and lets the vibrations continue as your breathing speeds up and you teeter on the verge of the first orgasm -

“Noooo...”

Everything has stopped and Gojō watches your body regain its balance instead of succumbing to pleasure. The bastard had turned off the bullet and no matter how hard your pussy squeezes around the thing, it’s not enough. Straining against the leather of the cuffs, you try to reach down. Your fingers know the motions. Your clit is throbbing. Inner walls weeping. And Satoru looks at you with hooded eyed while running a hand lazily along his length.

...

The base colours are filled in and the millions of jabs with the needles has caused your thigh to ache wonderfully. It’s not enough to distract you from the much deeper burning in your core: a desperation, a longing so profound that words such as grace or dignity have lost their meaning completely. Tears are filling your eyes and dripping down your cheeks as you babble. Begging. Pleading. Sobbing for Gojō to take pity on the wreck of a girl strapped down before him.

“I love the way you sound, princess,” he mumbles against your hip, “adore the way you stutter through my name.” Adept fingers have left the most sensible parts of your body momentarily to wrap up the tattoo. “You’ve been such a good girl.”

It’s impossible to fit together a string of words. Your brain has been reduced to mush and you’re trembling with need as his lean body presses against your flesh, his raging boner pushing at the soaked fabric of your panties. And he purrs, damn it, the man enjoys the sensation of the vibration he’s subjecting you too as they travel outwards.

“Pl-ple-ease!”

“Yeah? No more playing?” Somehow, the blue of his eyes manages to pierce through the haze of tears.

You’re not entirely sure when he frees you wrists. And the surprised growl as he finally pulls your panties off could just as easily have come from miles away. Two licks is all the aching folds are granted before he maps a path up your body, marking each detour with kisses and bites that makes you whimper at the delicious sting. There’s almost no power left in you to sit up like he wants you to...but somehow you manage for long enough to wrap your arms around him so he can unfasten your bra.

“It’s okay, darling,” he nibbles at your earlobe, guiding you onto your back once more, “hang on a bit longer, mm?”

“M-mm,” you nod, happy for the reprieve as the bullet stops.

Next second, the calm is disturbed as Gojō pulls out the toy slowly, leaving you more hollow than ever. A slobbery sound piques your curiosity, fighting against the reduced vision until you see him lick every trace of you off the silicone.

“I can never get enough of your taste,” he groans, winking at you. “

“You...how do...”

No, words are too difficult. It’s not as you really need them anyways, your brain tries to remind you before losing all sense of reality except the one fact that you’re finally feeling a cock head slipping up and down between your folds. Not just any cock, of course.

“Yeah...plea-OH!”

Shock waves of hot pleasure courses through every cell in your body at the sensation of Gojō bottoming out. Without warning, your body is wrecked, taken apart and put together in a heartbeat that lasts forever as your insides spasm and the only thing you can scream in your ecstasy is his name. And he doesn’t even move, just waits for you to come down and catch your breath.

“Hmmm, we need more space, princess.” His voice is strained.

Somehow, the man manages to lift you, still impaled by his erection, and carry you through a backdoor and up to the next floor – to be fair, you’re not thinking too much about it because all you can do is hold on as each step he takes sends aftershocks through your core.

You are aware of the soft feel of a mattress against your knees, realizing that he’s laid down in bed with you straddling him. Please, yes. It’s impossible to say where it comes from – probably the desperate craving that hasn’t been satisfied enough – but new energy tugs at your limbs until your sitting upright and your hips begin to roll. Every time he says your name,  you reward him by pulling nearly all the way off and then sinking back down.

“Why’d I wait so long?” Satoru groans, his fingers digging into your ass. “Feel so...amazing.”

“Yeah? Gonna let me be good to you?”

Gojō seems to be the one struggling for words now as he thrusts up into you with each roll, trying to speed up despite your effort to keep it slow. It’s not long before he lifts you up and down by the waist, praising the bounce of your breasts and asking you to play with them. Of course you comply.

“Fuck!” He pulls you off, scrambling to get behind you and pushing you forward on knees and elbows. “Ready, babe?”

“Gimme, please.”

You're aching for him inside, a deep longing for the balancing act between the pain and satisfaction he can grant you. Breath reduced to superficial whimpers. Hands clenching the sheets. All the anticipation building up to the point that you're shaking as you feel him align himself. Deep...hard, the inner voice keens.

It's neither. Frustratingly slow, Satoru fills you again, underlining the discovery of the bumps and quivers against his length with wonderfully delicious moans.

"Wanted to do this at the club," he growls strained, "slide into heaven. Feel your tight cunt around me as we danced." Finally bottoming out, Gojō's hips stutter and his fingers hold tight enough to bruise your hips in his efforts to still you both. "Fuck, princess! You're so damn perfect, I wouldn't have been able to hold back."

"You wouldn't have had to," you whine, core fluttering at his words.

Slowly, he begins to thrust into you and for a moment the only sounds are from two sets of panting breaths and an obscene squelching. One hand trails up your side only to return via the spine, nails scoring to set your nerves ablaze.

"I think it was worth it," he purrs, "this view? Beautiful. And no loud music to cover your sounds." As if to prove the point, he rams in deep to make you cry out again and again.

You're right at the verge, the dizzying precipice begging for that last stroke to push you over the edge and fly on the updrafts – and the second before it happens, Gojō's strong arms pull you up flush against his chest and he growls into your ear to scream his name. The change of angle, the command, or maybe the feeling his teeth digging into your earlobe as he pulls you down hard on his cock has you cumming with him.

Rather than an explosion or waves, the bliss concentrates heavy and hot and spreads its blinding rays outwards until there is nothing but deeply saturated satisfaction.

You come to you senses sitting on his lap, his arms wrapped tight around you for support for both. Satoru's chest is heaving against your back, but he's still capable of peppering your skin with kisses.

"I know we got work to do still on your thigh but..." his tongue catches your earlobe, making you hum with delight, "be mine, princess?"

It takes a second before you can talk. "Is there any doubt that I am already?"

"Nope...but I like the way you presented your heart to me," you hear him smile.

[worldwidebt7]

Unbeknownst To You || 01

Collaboration Piece: @worldwidebt7​ and @abangtanfangirl​

MASTERLIST

》Pairing: Hoseok x Reader

》Genre(s): [Werewolf!AU] [ANGST] [So much angst…] [Romance] [More angst] [Slow-Burn] [Angsty angst] [Smut] [Angsty smut] [Eventual Fluff]

》 Words: TBA

》Rating: M 

》 Warnings: Language, prostitution, mentions of unwanted intercourse, emotional abuse, graphic descriptions of intercourse

》 A/N: So, this was a kind of spur-of-the-moment project between @abangtanfangirl and I. We were talking one day when I mentioned that I wanted to try writing a story with her that involves a back-and-forth— neither one of us really sure what the other is going to write and having to come up with the next part of the story based on how the other progresses with it. That being said, this is not the end of the first chapter of the story, nor do we know when or where it will end —  Lindsay will be reblogging with the next part once she’s written it and then I will do the same and so on and so forth! Consider this “Freeform Collaborative Storytelling.” I hope everyone enjoys and, Lindsay, you’re up!

》 [SUMMARY] You were born into the world of wolves, without a wolf of your own. A disgrace to your kind, you are sent to your clan’s brothel to live out the rest of your days in servitude. That is, until the truth of your identity is revealed and the Alpha of your pack comes forward to offer you a deal that could either save or end your life: Appease his son’s wolf and make him fall in love with you, or else a public execution awaits to end your sad existence.

The world you were born into was unforgiving. It was a world in which all assortment of legend was true— the monsters that haunt the shadows of your mind reigned, leaving man at their mercy. Your world, the world of the Lycanthrope, was truly unforgiving, even to those born into the clan. Because there was a difference between being a part of the clan, and a member of the pack, a difference that has cursed you.

You were born with no wolf.

Wolf blood ran through your veins as both of your parents were of the Lycan kind, however the Moon Goddess had not seen fit to bestow the spirit of a wolf, leaving you barren, an empty shell, and a disgrace to your people. Those born without wolves were essentially human, who, to your kind, were no better than garbage; they were just something that existed to serve the Lycanthrope, to prove that they were the superior species. And so, the wolves ruled over them, clans and packs spread across the world claiming territories as they went.

Your clan was going through somewhat of a revolution. There was currently a new leader, your clan taking the name Jung at hid ascension, and though he was not a True Alpha, no one disputed his claim to the position due to the fear he inflicted since the time he seized control. The previous Alpha of your clan had been overthrown— the entire family snuffed out along with all those who were loyal to him.

All except you.

You, who was the shame of the clan when you were born. You, who was deemed unfit to be the child of an Alpha from the moment you opened your eyes and sported the unforgiving, unremarkable color brown instead of the frozen blue of an Alpha-born child. You, who was seen as no threat to the current regime due to your wolfless condition.

Yes, they had allowed you to live. It was generous of them you supposed— they could have easily killed you as you had been just an infant at the time. They instead sent you away to the village’s brothel, where the other wolfless women of your clan raised you.

In the beginning, you were unaware of your lineage, the other women sworn to secrecy, and therefore you grew up with what you assumed was a normal childhood. For someone of your status that is. It was custom that the women born to your clan without a wolf spirit became women of comfort or servants to the higher-class families of the pack. This was due to the face that without a wolf spirit, the likelihood of a member of the pack choosing to mate with you was more than unlikely, as their wolf would see you as unfit and too weak to carry their children. Therefore, there was no concern about unwanted pregnancies, as mating required more than just intercourse.

And so, you were raised to be silent, obedient, and submissive just as all the other women in the brothel. For your first years, you took care of things such as cleaning and sewing; the upkeep of the brothel and its inhabitants was work for the children until they became old enough to learn how to please a man, which came the eve of your 16th birthday. From that moment on you were to take lessons and observe the other women discretely as they entertained their guests. Of course it made you uncomfortable, and it looked more painful than pleasurable no matter what angle you studied from, but this was your world, and you needed to learn these things in order to survive. For two years you studied only, for what reason you were unsure. Usually it took only months of observing before you were delivered to learn by experience. You had been sheltered, for whatever reason.

But it was shortly after you turned eighteen that the closely guarded secret of your birth was disclosed to you by the dying headmistress. She had summoned you to her bedside, along with Chaerin, the woman who would be taking the responsibilities of the mistress of the brothel, and as you sat by her side, she beckoned the two of you closer. You may have been the only ones in the room, but she knew that the women of the establishment enjoyed their gossip more than anything.

“My dear,” she spoke softly and weakly, talking obviously an exertion in her condition. Whatever she needed to tell you was worth the last of her energy in her mind. “…I have done what I can to protect you from this life… but soon I will be unable to keep you from it. Which is why I must tell you, Y/N, and Chaerin…” She wheezed out a cough and both you and Chaerin moved to settle her more comfortably against the pillows behind her. She waved the two of you off though, mumbling something about being fine. “Y/N, you are more important to this clan than you were told… when you were brought to me as an infant I was sworn to secrecy. But now you must know… your parents my dear, they were the former leaders of our clan, your father the Alpha of the pack… the True Alpha.”

“What? Milady, that can’t be right…” Chaerin said, mouth agape at her disbelief as she looked over to you. The elderly woman simply sighed and also turned to you to gauge your reaction at the unveiled truth she just dropped on your lap. You were, understandably, shocked; denial racing through your veins before you gave it a chance to be true.

“N-no, that’s not… I don’t… I don’t have a wolf…” You stuttered out, your mind coming up with every reason as to why it couldn’t be you, it wasn’t you, it’s not possible. You had no wolf spirit; you had been forsaken by the Moon Goddess and then by your clan for your dishonorable state. Your parents had left you there, at the brothel, in order to lessen the same of your birth and hide you away. But still, the headmistress continued through your doubts.

“Yes, you are without a wolf. But the blood of an Alpha— our Alpha— runs through you.” She looks at you with pity and Chaerin covers the gasp that escapes her lips with her hand. “The Jung Family brought you to me… after they had overthrown the rightful Alpha… they wanted you to never exist in this world again as L/N Y/N, they said they were doing a kindness to the daughter of an Alpha cursed with no wolf.” Another coughing fit coursed through the elderly woman’s body causing her to suspend her confession.

“Milady, please, why are you telling us this?” Chaerin asked the question that had been on both your minds, one that you were still too in shock to inquire. “Isn’t telling us putting Y/N— putting both of us— in danger…?” She trailed off and the both of you waited on baited breath for her answer. When she regained air in her lungs, she continued through labored breath.

“Yes. I admit, I am being selfish.” She sent you both a rueful smile. “However, the Jungs know who you are, Y/N, and recently there have been whispers…” She paused as the figures of two workers passed by the doors, chatter accompanying their shadows. Once they passed, the old woman continued. “Y/N… should there be any sign, any rumblings of a revolution, you must leave. Do you understand? Whether you have a wolf or not, you are still a threat to the Jung Family….”

It was only days later that she passed away, taking any more secrets that she may hold with her and making Chaerin the new headmistress of the brothel.

As the years passed, Chaerin protected you as best she could— assigning you to the lounge room as a server rather than a comfort woman. Here, you brought food, poured drinks, and sang to entertain your guests as they ‘got to know’ the women they had selected for the evening. And for a while, you were safe from the primal desires of the wolves. But your peace didn’t last, as one night a prestigious guest appeared in the night, selecting several women to entertain him and his comrades in the lounge where you were waiting to pour drinks. His golden eyes watched you the entire evening, sending chills of disgust down your spine.

Soon, his men took the hands of whatever young women they fancied and allowed the girls to lead them back to their rooms with the promise of a sleepless night. The guest, who you learned was the general of the Southern Pack Wing, stayed, eyes locked on you. When Chaerin came to inquire on which girl or girls he would like for the evening, with a sickening smile on his face he chose you.

“I’m sorry, my lord, but she is a simple server.” She explained, panic setting into her features as they were yours. “M-may I suggest another one of my girls for the evening?” At her denial, he grew enraged, fueled by lust and alcohol as he leapt from his place on the floor to pin her beneath him by the throat.

“Do you know who I am, woman?” He asked with a snarl, tightening his grip when she did not answer; not that she could with her voice being cut off by his meaty hands. You wanted to help her, you did, but you were frozen in place by the sudden change in atmosphere. Even though you had no wolf spirit, you still felt oppressed by the aura the male was throwing off. “Remember your place. Filth such as you has no authority to deny me anything.” At Chaerin’s choked sob and the laying of her fingers against his wrist, you stepped forward, unable to see the woman suffer any longer.

“I’ll go with you.” You said, your voice laced with fear but firm nonetheless. Your hands fisted in the hanbok you wore, trying to stop their shaking. You let out a quivering breath when he released your Mistress, her coughing and deep inhales filling the room that had become eerily still otherwise. And when he sneered up at you with a crooked smile, you realized the mistake you had just made.

“This one knows her place…” He growled out as he stood and approached you. You kept your gaze on Chaerin, who was grasping at her throat with a pained expression on her face while she looked at you. The man loomed over you, his shadow foreboding as the hand that had just nearly killed the other woman encircled your arm, and it was only when Chaerin looked away from you that truly felt your impending fate. “Show me to your room, girl.”

That was five years ago, and while you never found yourself with a guest such as that man again, it was a defining moment in your young life where you came to terms with your place in the world. It broke you. Your relationship with Chaerin never mended and she treated you coldly after the event. You figured it was anger that drove the two of you apart; the anger she held for you for being the reason she was injured that night and the resentment you held for her for turning away when you most needed her. You do not regret coming forward to aid her, nor do you feel anger towards her for what you had to do to save her. No, what had hurt the most is that she hadn’t offered you anything— no comfort in her gaze, no unspoken apologies or thanks. She had resigned you to your fate. Alone.

Now, at the age of 25, you have learned this unforgiving world’s most valuable lesson:

You are nothing.

 You awoke to the bustle of the younger girls hurrying about the brothel halls, their footsteps echoing through the floorboards to stir you from your slumber. Your plain, dark eyes scanned your room and upon seeing the shadows cast upon the wall you concluded that it was only just past midday. With a groan, you turned over in an attempt to fall back asleep.

This was far too early for a woman of the night such as yourself— you spent the long hours of your life in darkness, only settling in when its shroud begins to lift with the dawn. You had long become accustomed to the nocturnal lifestyle you picked up at the tender age of 16 when you had begun your lessons in the arts of pleasuring men, so being awake at this hour was completely unwelcomed. It was here, in the safety of your solitude, that you were the most happy. For in your dreams you were not here, in a brothel, you were not you. In your dreams you were far away from this world.

But, of course, it would not let you out of it’s clutches so easily and your door flew open.

“Y/N.” Your Mistress called, voice flat and void of the fondness she once held for you. You sat up and looked at her, noting that her face held a mirroring stoniness. Not that you were any different than her anymore. The life and child-like spirit that you once held was all but gone— an effect of the cruel reality of your existence. You no longer smiled with genuineness; only empty lies as you played the part of willing temptress to your guests. “We have a guest waiting to see you. Get dressed and come to the lounge.” She didn’t wait for you to answer before she turned on her heel and left. She didn’t have to; she knew you were going to do as you were told.

And so, as quickly as you could, you prepared yourself. You always wore the same hanbok with guests— it was elegant, yet flirtatious, and the nicest clothes you owned. You may not actually be of high-class standing, but it was part of the illusion to appear as one. No wolf, or human man for that matter, wanted to spend the night with a woman who looked like a peasant.

Settling in front of your mirror to do your hair and makeup, you wondered about your guest. A visit during daylight hours was nearly unheard of, as wolves had a certain pride for their image. Thus, your brothel was held to the strictest discretion when concerning the guests that frequented. For someone to come at midday… he was either someone who had no shame in his depravity, or it was someone who had nothing to fear.

You sighed as a knock came at your door. You called out to them politely, knowing that it wasn’t Chaerin again, as she would have just barged right in like she had earlier. You glanced to the side to see one of the younger girls, Taeha, peek her head through the door. Her large brown eyes and tan skin dusted in light freckles were the defining features of the 12-year-old, and you had taken a liking to her immediately when she arrived on the doorstep of the brothel nine years ago. She had been crying out for her mother who had abandoned her there with little remorse. You had only just begun your nightly classes at the time, and found yourself putting the girl to bed every night before you left and waking her every morning when you returned.

“Miss Y/N,” She spoke softly, and you never quite understood why she insisted on calling you ‘miss.’ You smiled at her still and beckoned her into the room. “I was told to see if you needed assistance in getting ready?” She asked as she treaded over to stand beside you. You hummed thoughtfully as you finished applying makeup to your eyes before peering at her through her reflection in the mirror.

“My hair,” You stated simply, but not coldly, and she nodded, moving behind where you sat to run her fingers through your hair. The two of you were silent as she worked, the only movement from you was passing her the items she needed to fix your hair in an elaborate up-do. When she finished, the took a step back.

“Is this satisfactory?” She was unsure of herself, as she always was, as each and every girl in this place was. It was no secret that your self-confidence was one of the first things to be displaced in the brothel, along with your self-worth. It was one of the ways they ensured your obedience. You refused to exacerbate this, and as you turned your head from side to side to look at the work she did, you smiled as whole-heartedly as you could, even though there was hardly any heart left in you.

“It’s lovely,” You praised, and the girl lit up, your kind words more than she would be getting in days. The thanks fell from her lips profusely as she bowed, looking as if this was the nicest thing anyone has ever said to her. And it probably was.

“Y/N.” The stern feminine voice of Chaerin broke through the touching moment as you looked lazily over your shoulder at the older woman and Taeha froze, fear gripping her. “If you’re finished, don’t keep our guest waiting.” She then turned to the other girl who flinched at her stare. “And you should be getting back to your work as well.” Taeha bowed and scurried out of the room without another word, making you sigh at how skittish the girl was. “Let’s go.” Your Headmistress said, waiting for you to stand and make your way over to her before leading the way.

You were silent for a moment, uncomfortable with the situation you were in and even more tired. Why were you the one attending to this guest? There were far better girls than you— ones that had more experience and sweeter lips. Surely your Mistress knew this, so why was she sending you to a guest that warranted such a fuss?

“Y/N…” She stated, though there was something different in her voice. Guilt? Worry? You couldn’t pinpoint the emotion causing the sudden softness towards you, but you perked up nonetheless. She glanced over her shoulder at you as you approached the lounge doors which, you noticed, now had a guard flanking either side. “Remember what the former Headmistress told you…” That was all she said, and before you could question it, you were in front of the lounge, and whatever guest laid behind its doors. For the first time, you were scared, and as the doors were pulled open by the two wolves guarding whomever was inside. You swallowed hard.

A man, in his early fifties, with dark hair graying at the sides and an aura that set your nerves on fire, sat in the center of the room, staring at the door expectantly. He did not seem happy, nor did he seem angry. He simply sat, an air of confidence and power around him, electrifying the space. The prominent scars running across his face did nothing to hide the fact that he was an attractive man, and were proof of his strength.

“Y/N,” Chaerin began, the hint of emotion in her voice snuffed out. “Please greet our Lord and Alpha properly.” She then bowed herself, positioning herself on her knees and placing her forehead on the floor. Your heartbeat sped to an unimaginable pace as you stared into the golden eyes in front of you for a moment before quickly falling into the same position as your Mistress. Entire body shaking, you controlled your voice as best as you could in your greeting.

“Alpha Jung,” you stated politely. With your forehead pressed to the ground you missed the sinister grin that spread on his lips, but you heard the gruff mockery in his voice.

“Child of The Former…”

 [Update 10/26/2019] [Words: 3333]

[christhatcher]

12 albums from 2016

These aren’t in any particular order. I have, and continue to, love them all. If I’d have listened to the Mammoth Weed Wizard Bastard album more often I reckon that would’ve got in too. Unfortunately I do a lot of listening to music in the car, and I’m perpetually late for work, and it’s impossible to drive at anything approaching the speed limit when you’re listening to an album by a band called Mammoth Weed Wizard Bastard.

Underworld - Barbara, Barbara We Face A Shining Future

Oh Underworld you've soundtracked many significant moments in my life from the 90s onwards, and as we both get older you keep reminding me that youth and fire in the belly aren't the only ingredients necessary for making vital music. Underworld have blown me away again with an album which finds them at their most intimate yet transcendent. To my mind that's the perfect balance to pitch on an album that takes its name from some of a husband's final words to his wife.

The lyrics to Low Burn ('Time, The first time, Blush, Be bold, Be beautiful, Free, Totally, Unlimited') could, in the wrong hands, all too easily find their way onto a platitudinous meme but they sound vital in the context of the tune, a cresting wave of synths, strings, bass throb and eventually Hounds of Love toms. The perspective shifts on the penultimate line to include, "Panic, craving, nothing... Time, the first time..." and it transforms the vocal from a call for the Living to one that seems to encompass life and death's full cycle. Played back to back with Nylon Strung, whose refrain 'I want to hold you, laughing' assumes a mantra like quality, the two tracks feel like a compellingly heartfelt plea to embrace utterly the short moments we have.

David Bowie - Blackstar

We will never see his like again. To some extent that’s probably true, but that’s because Rock n roll is now nearing the point of anachronism; it's passing is inevitable but not something to mourn. We can't be forever young and full of piss and vinegar and I think if you're determined to be 18 till you die you've set your sights pretty low. I actually hope that the future of expressive culture lies not solely in the hands of men and women on raised stages preaching to the masses but in increasingly indivisible hands and minds brought together and operating in the spaces where the real and virtual world blur. I hope it's a place where individuals come second to the product of expression. In short, I hope there isn't another David Bowie. I love the guy (as much as it's possible to love someone you've never met), but I hope that before too long we no longer require these figureheads to align ourselves with or against. I want his work to survive and be celebrated but I hope that the culture he sprung from baffles my descendants, because there's something rotten about our obsession with the shock of the new that is the third quarter of the 20th Century.

Jez: Look, Mark, I'm a musician, in case you've forgotten. I answer to a higher law, the law of "If it feels good, do it."

Mark: Oh, that's a great law, isn't it? What's that, Gaddafi's law?

Jez: It's the musician's law. Colonel Gaddafi could not lay down a bass hook, Mark. That should be clear even to you. - Peep Show (series 3 ep 5)

It was the shock of the new, not a Solomonesque cultural cache. And now the world is moving on. Not diminishing in talent over time as we speed further away from the grand ejaculation of the Big Rock n Roll Bang. Music hasn’t descended into an over reliance on auto tune, or computers. There isn’t a dearth of ‘real’ musicians learning ‘real’ instruments, learning their song ‘craft’… ‘organically’. The world is moving on. But still we get to listen to the fucking bullshit put about by old people convinced that the brief period when you’re most emotionally engaged in the cultural stimuli around you happens to be the apex of civilisation; and you should never underestimate a Baby Boomer’s ability to slip a pair of rose tinted blinkers over your eyes when you’re moving into the crawl space they’ve rented out to you from their burgeoning property portfolios (Hippies and Yuppies – only really distinguishable by the proportion of their income spent on joss sticks).

But back to Bowie. Guilty of none of the above. His capacity for re-invention and forward thinking doesn’t need re-iterating, the back catalogue up to and including Blackstar speaks for itself. This has turned into a rant but, sod it, I'm not in the mood for not ranting.

Here's to Mr Bowie, perhaps the ultimate rebuttal to those who cite ‘honesty’ or ‘realness’ or ‘rocknroooooll’ as fundamental to making ‘organic’, ‘real’ music and writing ‘proper’ songs. Who used artifice, and sounds regardless of source, was fearless and transcended rock n roll and took it higher than it deserves, subverted and utterly disregarded hoary, chin stroking… fuck it… boring… notions of what a song/album/concert could/should be.

And he left us with Blackstar. All of the above.

The Comet is Coming - Channel The Spirits

It's quite hard to believe that this is the sound of just sax, synths and drums (or ‘skins’, if I'm trying to be vaguely alliterative) recorded (to tape no less) in a three day burst of creativity. The sound, all pervading atmosphere and ethos at large here is worthy of the entire Arkestra, amped up and channelled through Funkadelic via Leftfield at their most furious. If they've heard Channel The Spirits, then I imagine that the house band at the Restaurant At The End Of The Universe are probably worried about losing their residency. Sub point: Slam Dunk In A Blackhole (which wouldn't sound out of place on either Blackstar or Kendrick Lamar's To Pimp A Butterfly) is my song title of the year.

Savages - Adore Life

Opening with the three chord grind of The Answer, Adore Life positively pulses and howls (the guitars sound feral) before dissolving into more cerebral territory for the title track. Jehnny Beth's lyrics run the gamut of love, turning the subject inside out fearlessly, never breaking eye contact. It's an intense, beautifully paced piece of work, packaged in monochrome but red blooded through and through.

David Holmes – Late Night Tales

I was introduced to Mr Holmes via one of those late 90s Chillout compilations. The culprit, 'Rodney Yates' is a journey borne on floating ride cymbal and strings a la Lalo Schriffin, which led me to its mother album 'Let's Get Killed'. Over the subsequent years, I've lapped up pretty much everything he's done, be it soundtracks (Out of Sight springs to mind), Psychedelic Funk mix albums (Come Get it I Got It), freaky Hip Hop (The Free Association) and this year, Late Night Tales and Unloved (more of the latter in a bit).

If there's a unifying thread to Mr Holmes' work, to these ears, it's the sense that he's a man outside of time. His work is peppered with samples and ideas from pretty much every decade since it became possible to capture and replicate sound. But this is not the back catalogue of a retro mongering throwback, it's a body of work that speaks of a genuine love of sound and an overarching desire to share it. I have no idea how much of his own music is created from samples and how much is original composition... the lines are utterly blurred and it makes for compelling listening.

In these interconnected times, the Internet, behaving like it's second syllable, drags the endless bounty of musical creativity onwards with ever decreasing regard for chronology and Holmes has a rare talent for sifting through the haul for treasures. If you're on the search for new artists then Mr Holmes beats Spotify or any app you could imagine hands down. He's arguably never been better than on Late Night Tales. It's a beautiful, torchlit collection made all the more striking by the fact that it's largely beatless and full of acoustic and vocal performances thematically linked to questions of love and loss. A truly mesmerising experience.

Church of The Cosmic Skull – Is Satan Real?

I've spent the last few years resolutely trying to engage with modern sounds after years in a proto metal, Sabbath indebted cul de sac (not a bad place to be admittedly, but it's good to shake things up every so often). This year however, I've found myself slipping back into my comfort zone, maybe as a way of escaping the hideousness of 2016, maybe because albums like Is Satan Real? are so fucking tasty. It combines the vocal, harmonic... There's no other way of saying this... pomp of Queen, hooks and almost jazzy flourishes that The Zombies would've actually stayed split up over and a deliciously sparse smattering of Sabbathian crunch. The fact that they only properly let rip on the closing 'Evil In Your Eye' is a masterstroke that has had me reaching for the repeat button, repeatedly.

Metronomy - Summer '08

Joe Mount is not cool, he’s no rock star and he doesn’t swagger, but the music he makes does, albeit in a slightly jerky, twitchy St Vitus on espresso way. When I was small I used to make myself spaceships out of bits of furniture, and go on adventures of the imagination… Listening to Metronomy has always felt a little like being invited into someone else's world of 'let's pretend'. One where the lightsabers are still visibly made from mismatched lego bricks and the Darth Vader helmet is quite obviously a plastic policeman's helmet with a flap of cardboard inexpertly sellotaped around the back. They aren’t smooth. They're not making music for parties in and around Jacuzzis and JD shaped swimming pools, but 40 minutes in the company of this collection of off kilter electro funk, break and disco beats and aching slow jams might allow you to pretend that you are. And, once again, the artifice is far more stimulating and appealing than reality.

Opeth - Sorceress

Opeth. Opeth. Opeth. I just bloody love them. That's a shit review, but it's basically how I feel. I guess that how you feel about Opeth depends on your views on progressive music. If you think it's wanky and unnecessary then you'd be forgiven for avoiding Opeth but I'd argue that you're mistaken, because there are very few elements included in an Opeth number that could be considered unnecessarily wanky. Dramatic shifts in tempo and volume and time signature abound on this, as all, their albums. The key to their success though, is that they're artfully and meticulously placed with an almost architectural eye for detail that seems set on firing the imagination, rather than bludgeoning the listener with its own cleverness. In the truest sense of the word Sorceress is a wonderful addition to an enviable back catalogue.

Hedvig Mollestad Trio – Black Stabat Mater

 I don't really know much about these ladies. I'm not sure whether to describe it as Jazzy proto metal or proto metallic jazz... maybe the latter. But it is fierce. Really fierce. The five tracks slowly descend from a (relatively) straight forward opening freak out on a jazzy, turning bluesy groove, to nightmarish feedback and clatter that could be mistaken for King Crimson being dissolved in a rusted cauldron of battery acid stirred by Trolls. Also: One of my favourite album covers in a long time.

Paul Simon - Stranger To Stranger

Received wisdom has it that 74 year olds should just rest on the canon, firing blanks, cashing in on the willingness of Mojo readers to part with their coin for ever more padded out and barrel scraping reissues. Paul Simon seems to think that the best way to get through one's three score and tens is to build an album from the beats up and then bring in a designer and player of micro tonal instruments to add layer upon layer of otherwordly sound. I like Paul Simon. A lot.

Unloved - Guilty of Love

A collaboration between Jade Vincent, Keefus Ciancia and David Holmes (him again). As with Late Night Tales, Unloved is a creature of the night, but this time with teeth, paraffin eyes and a taste for smoke in the back of the throat. Guitars twang, drums can be heard reverberating up blackened alleyways and the astonishing voice of Jade Vincent entices, admonishes, damns and defies. When A Woman is Around should be considered a classic, 'Truth is seldom found (by a man) when a woman is around... Lose that Cheshire grin, take it like a man, keep what's yours, leave me mine.' Although there's a dark 60s vibe at work here, it's beautifully realised, with the faultless songwriting, performance and production giving it an elusive timelessness.

Nissenenmondai - N/A

This album is a perfect example of singular and fearless exploration.

They're a power trio, but that's where the similarities to that particular trope end.

They veer closest to making minimalist Techno, but with guitar, bass and drums.

They sound like they're being beamed in from the future, and not necessarily a good one.

Some of the album is hard to listen to and imagine it having been created by humans.

That's why I love it.