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kafkasmuses · 5 months

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lace garters

words : 3,903

tags : 18+!!! mdni! escorts , sex work , reader ! sex worker , vaginal sex , finger fucking , finger sucking , porn with feelings , brothels , oral sex , save a horse ride a whattt

p.s : this is also posted on my ao3!! ( divider by siren4u & gif by drewstarkrs )

billy was a virgin, surprisingly, he didn’t have time for a girlfriend, and the quick fucks from the escorts never enticed him much. many offered, when he would stop quick at towns for a simple beer or to take care of things— he would typically get stopped by the escorts dressed in their gorgeous silks, tight corsets, and sleeves that fall off their shoulders so easily it has your fingers itching with desire to fix it. it would make even the most sane man turn mad, and somehow billy never allowed himself to fall for it.

not until now, an escort stops him before he walks in a bar, “how old are you, dear?”

“19, ‘bout to turn 20,” his voice is smooth and sweet, southern drawl sweeping out with ease.

the girl hums out, tipping out of the way to allow his eyes to another girl standing far behind her, you, “you’re too young for me, dear, you should talk to her. she can show you a good time.”

typically billy would say no, offer a few coins for their efforts and simply walk into the bar like nobody had offered. but something was different when his eyes fell on you, you weren’t like the other escorts, quick to talk to the men and get some money for the events that take within the confines of the motel walls. you were rather looking off in the distance, your position more reserved rather than comfortable. it had him wanting to know more.

to be fair, billy was bored these days, all he did was travel and go from town to town, never leaving a mark on those behind. other than his wanted posters, which by the way, had an awful drawing on it. how the hell was he ever supposed to get a girlfriend with drawings like that made about him? each step is slow, calculated, as he moves over to you. he notices that mid way, your attention seems forced away from him.

are you afraid of him? he tips his head in your peripheral, easily looming over you, “darling.”

your eyes snap to him almost immediately, widening as if you didn’t think it would truly be him, yet you mumble out a, “honey.”

“lady over there told me to talk to you,” his head tips up, blue eyes piercing into you, even through the deepest of the night.

“i don’t want trouble,” you finally turn to him, the smell of musk and gunsmoke filling your nose as he bites through the toothpick in his mouth, “i hear you’re wanted.”

“wanted, but not trouble,” he corrects, smirk tugging at his right lip, “you don’t gotta tell anyone.”

“wasn’t plannin’ on it,” your voice is so sweet, it nearly has him doubling over. you’re teasing him, clearly, but billy has never backed down to a challenge once in his life, he can bet on that.

his eyebrow twitches upright slightly, “how much for thirty minutes, beautiful?”

“you can satisfy me in thirty minutes?” you tease, smile widening at your own joke.

his head cocks to the side, and he can’t help the way he licks his lips, cockiness coursing through his veins, “i probably could in ten.”

you can’t help the way your flesh feels like rubber over molten, cheeks flaring to a new maroon that you hadn’t expected. your eyes dare to match his, the lust unsheathed in the teal of his eyes, “thirty will be just a few coins.”

his hand moves to your jaw, tipping your head up further to look at him with ease, now you have no choice of looking away, “you don’t think i can in ten?”

“i doubt it,” your skin is hot underneath his touch, despite your bold demeanor.

“we’ll see.”

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

the motel carried the same smell as it always did, the mix of mustiness, smoke from cigars, and whiskey. billy’s gut churned as you led him to the room that you always rented, surely, he was cocky at first— then he began to worry if he would even be good enough. he was a virgin, after all, and he’s sure you’d been with mostly experienced men. he doesn’t say anything once the door opens, seemingly every worry dissipates as you look back at him with a different look, your lashes flutter over your eyes with ease, the look is more seductive, siren like.

if you were a siren, consider him the sailors in those tales, lost in the tides and addicted to the song that oozed out your vocals.

he allows you to guide him to the bed, sitting him down on the thin, firm mattress with your hands lingering on his shoulders, “what would you like me to do?”

“i’d like for you,” he trails off, eyes tracing down your body, “to get on your knees.”

your hands leave his shoulders as you ever so slowly kneel down, every movement is well thought out, calculated, your body flowing in the most seductive ways. despite your lowered body, your eyes still remained up at him, the sudden doe look in your eyes making his legs spread ever so slightly. his hand is gentle when it touches your cheek again, pinky lining underneath your jawline as his thumb threatens against your lips.

it’s dangerous, the way you look at him, like your gun is being drawn to him with your finger teasing the trigger.

“and?” you add, his thumb teasing your now open lips. he tried not to flinch when your mouth encased his thumb, the warmth wetness of your mouth enveloping the skin. he finds himself unable to speak, unable to wonder whatever he wants— he wants to be stuck in this moment forever, it was greater than any other treasure he had come across. you were so good at your job, it made him want to know the lengths of your skills.

“suck me off,” he finally speaks, gentle to remove his thumb from your mouth.

it was a statement that you were used to, the firm tone, the expectation to get to it immediately— yet you are somehow surprised when it comes from him, it’s less firm, not like a demand but rather an offer, and there wasn’t a feeling of being rushed. for a man who seemingly had no time for women, he surely had a way to talk to them, to be gentler with them, unlike the other men. it was always cowboys who had the better ways of treating women, respectful with every word, or touch. his eyes are heavy on you, the curtains of your eyelashes blinking up to him, your lips tinted a sweet rouge due to a patted on lipstick, and he finds himself pushing his thumb across your lips, smudging the burgundy ever so slightly.

your hands smooth over the fabric of his pants, fingertips teasing the leather of his belt which accompanied his gun holster as you palmed him through his slacks. the touch of the leather was rich, sturdy and every loop was clean cut, rather than loose and falling apart like many belts you had undone before. you hear him groan as your hand gently pushes against his clothed cock, his back stiffening ever so slightly as a chill runs up it.

he tilts his head to the side ever so slightly as you undo his belt, your fingertips threateningly close to his gun holster as you pull the leather from the metal to loosen it. a chuckle vibrates from his chest, voice lower than usual, “careful, princess.”

he lifts his hips as you tug down his pants, boxers following soon after to slip down to his ankles with ease. a hiss escapes him as soon as his hard dick is released to the cold air, with the opposing blow of your warm air on his tip. he was already so hard, as if he had been aching for a day like this. his hand moves to wrap around his base, hips scooting closer ever so slightly.

“open,” his voice is husky, yet velvety, like the thorn of a rose to the petals.

you’re quick to allow your jaw to fall slack, tongue smoothing out past the burgundy that coats your lips, as if you expected his next command. he taps his tip against your tongue, biting back the groan that thunders inside his every limb at the feeling of the warm, wet muscle. he allows you to take the lead, your tongue following the underside of his dick, memorizing each vein. when you reach his tip, you press a few sloppy kisses to it that has his breathing roughen, allowing you to open your mouth once more and take his length inside.

he sucks in a deep breath, a hoarse groan escaping past his lips when he exhales, allowing his teeth clench on the thin wooden toothpick that still remained in his mouth. his head tips back when you hollow your cheeks only mere seconds into sucking him off, his hat slipping off his head and falling onto the plush of the bedsheets.

his breath becomes ragged with the more you bob your head, allowing the tip to reach the back of your mouth, to the throat. his free hand moves to pass through your hairline, gripping at the beginning of your hair, even through your updo, loosening the tightening of the strands. the muscle in his arms flex underneath his short-sleeved button up, veins popping out every time you reach the base.

“good girl,” he breathes out, the whimper that vibrates around his cock making his release come quicker than expected, hand bunching up your hair as he has to move you back, off his dick to stop his orgasm. he heaves, noticing the way strips of saliva connect your mouth to his dick. he moves his hand from your hair down to your lips, watching the way your mouth instinctively opens then closes around his fingers, sucking them in with pure ease.

he allows you to wet them with your saliva until he pulls them out and mumbles a soft, “come.”

he helps you up onto his lap, the metal of his gun is a cooling sensation on his heated skin as he moves back, reaching under to toss his gun elsewhere. he had his guard down now, despite the large bounties on his head, he was too focused on you, and giving you the pleasure that you deserved. as you straddle him, his fingers dared to touch the bottom of your dress, threatening to raise, “may i?”

your eyes are tantalizing when they meet his, like the threatens of the deepest lust lie within them, and billy is willing to dive in, “you may.”

his hair is messy now, like he never took off that damn hat, and when he did— he didn’t bother to fix the hair underneath.

every movement is careful, meant to be more meaningful than a quick fuck, he raises your skirt until his eyes catch on to a white lace garter that’s propped around your upper thigh. so sweet, the purposeful placement of it all, it’s like a prize for whoever gets to raise your skirt. as you sit on his lap, your arms rest on his shoulders, a hand threatening the skin on the back of his neck as his hands move back around your waist, through the silk of the corset to the strings that hold it together on the back. his eyes are stuck onto you as his fingers begin to tug at the tie of the strings, they were in a harsh knot, but billy always knew his way around things.

kissing clients was typically a line many of the women wouldn’t dare to cross, sometimes not even you, but the way his eyes kept tipping down to your lips had you threateningly close to the now faded line. as the laces of your corset loosen, your head tips down to where your lips barely brush him, you can smell the mint already before even getting a chance. your lips move to close around the toothpick that he kept in his mouth, moving to spit it out and he was quick to chase your lips. as soon as you had spit out the toothpick, his lips finally pressed against yours, allowing your freshly manicured hands to curl through his brunette hair.

the fresh smell of your rose and jasmine was quick to his nose as he inhaled you up close, tongue teasing against your lower lip ever so carefully. there was a certain thirst that billy found himself feeling as he moves to spread your mouth open with his own, allowing your tongues to both clash, the mix of spit and remnants of mint and a cigarette becoming prominent to the taste. he wanted to drink every word from your lips, to suck in your siren song like his life depended on it.

when your hips bucked up against him, needy to feel a form of friction, it had encouraged him to finally free you from the confines of your corset. your lips part when he breaks the kiss, his lips trailing kisses down to your jaw, throughout until he meets your neck, the softness of his kisses making it feel as though doves were flying through the confines of your body. when his lips begin to move to suck on the delicate skin, you hiss, “dear, dear, you can’t leave marks.”

“your rules or brothel rules?” he murmurs against your skin, moving to toss away your corset onto the floor.

“brothel rules,” you hush out, and you feel his lips curl onto your neck.

“then ‘m gonna leave as many marks as i want,” he falls back into your skin, lips taking in the skin between his teeth as he moved to mark you as his own. the desire to have a prostitute as your own was a dangerous game, but billy had been a part of many dangerous games before, and now he was pulling all his money in with the unluckiest of cards— yet he still finds himself with the pride of feeling he will win. his lips pause at one of the pulse points on your neck, noticing how your heat beat quickens, and flutters, was this typical?

he wasn’t sure, but he finds himself praying it’s a good thing. he chuckles as your hands are desperate to unbutton his shirt, pushing each wooden button through the loops with ease, you had done this a million times before, this is the only time your heart is thumping in your chest when you do, though. he moves his hand down to take a hold of one of your wrists, “easy, girl, easy.”

“you said ten minutes,” you remind him, smile dripping on your lips.

“mm, i want longer than that,” he helps you unbutton the last few before taking off his shirt, noticing how your eyes trail down his figure.

“just sayin’ that because you can’t make me cum,” you break into a soft laugh against him, and he can’t help the way a small smile curves his lips as he takes off the dress that you were wearing. your body is alike to the statues you could only dream of seeing in those beautiful stories about gods and women who ruled. women who were worshipped, even as billy knew you for mere minutes, he found himself wanting to kneel at your altar, to worship the ground you walk on. to make you cum would mean more than he imagined at first, he wanted to be that man, to pleasure you in ways others haven’t.

his fingers slip underneath the hem of your panties, immediately exposed to the wetness underneath as it coats his fingers, “can’t make you cum yet you’re so wet for me, hm?”

you bite your lip, allowing your hips to sway against his fingers as pleasure envelopes your every thought almost immediately. though billy wasn’t quite sure about what exactly to do, he had heard the other cowboys speak of this, and he hoped it delivered as much pleasure as they said when he dips a finger inside of you. you’re loose around him, wet, yet sucking him in so easily. he’s quick to add another, finding his rhythm almost immediately and getting cocky with it. he dares to let his thumb tease the edges of your clit, as if he didn’t know it was there and he was merely looking for somewhere to place it.

he notices the way your nails dig in to his scalp, biting your tongue so hard that crimson may bleed from it with ease.

billy had kissed many women, been on the brink of sex, and yet none have reacted the ways in which you do. they were quick to show how they react, every emotion not blanketed behind a curtain of embarrassment but now, despite it being your job to over exaggerate the pleasure, you found yourself shy to make noise. he moves to allow another finger to push inside of you, the pink velvet of your insides encasing his fingers with ease. he hears you gasp when his fingers threaten to curl, and he allows himself another smile. his thumb moves to your clit again, and that’s when your grip becomes lethal, biting your lip no longer becoming a guard for your moans.

“please,” you mumble out, whimpering.

“please what, princess?” you’re putty in his hands, and he’s kneading you with ease.

“i.. i need you,” you moan out, to be saying this to a wanted man, one who has killed, and committed theft, as well as escaped from prison— it was something you swore to never do. yet you were having sex with him and his touch felt so gentle it was as if it never happened, how could a man so dangerous be so kind? you feel a vein pulse from his neck as he finally pulls his fingers out, his eyes following yours as he moves his hand up to his mouth, allowing his fingers to move in between his lips and the taste of you to savor his tastebuds.

your pupils dilate at the sight of him tasting you, skin warming before you can even realize that you’re moving to take his fingers out, replacing them with your tongue as your mouth presses against his again. his hand falls on your waist, other hand guiding his dick to your cunt as he deepens the kiss to feel you moan against his mouth. your tongues fight for dominance, each movement a hunger of it’s own but yours falls submissive as soon as his dick slides into you with ease. your velvet is tighter around him than he expected, and he feels the vibrations of your whines against his tongue, mumbling a small, “you’re so big—“ against his lips.

once you reach his base, you pull away from his lips, a mere string of saliva connecting you both like a lifeline.

now you have the lead to take, your lips connecting with his neck to leave marks on him, you wonder how the other cowboys will react as your hips start swaying on his dick, riding him with ease. will they laugh at him for all the prominent hickeys? there’s no way he could hide it, you’ve heard billy had girlfriends all around in many different towns and parts of the state, what if he went back to them and they saw all the marks? it would trace back to you, you’re sure of it, but something about that fills you with a sense of pride rather than fear. you’ve always adored the outlaws, even though you were raised to be a good christian woman, a good girl. the outlaws were always the sweet talkers, as you were told from the other girls at the brothel. you were told stories about how well they treated the women, their touch being better than most the regulars, their words so dirty you’d only dream of being told it until you had finally heard it.

now you found yourself in love with the idea of trouble, as you wrap yourself in the silks of his touch and the pleasure he gave you. his head tilts back to allow you more access to the free canvas of his neck, his hand raises, then immediately smacks onto the flesh of your ass. the slap tore a cry from your throat, into the skin that coats his neck, and a plain redness forms around the mark of his hand, branding you.

somehow, this was more intimate than your previous affairs, even despite the roughness of the sex. it felt like a wild play of ballet, an opera you would only dream of seeing, the gracefulness of each movement and the sweetness that drips like honey off each sound, even the sounds of skin slapping as you ride him. you taste the bitterness of his cologne as you reach the sides of his neck, sucking the pale skin with a need to create marks that last. he’s fascinated by your every movement, if this truly was a ballet, he would find himself in the crowd, watching the dancer move with such purity even during such a lewd act.

you felt yourself curl as your orgasm builds again, and it seems he is too in the way his hips begin to rock. every movement feels like being coated in molasses, trying to swim through it, the orgasms scorching through your inner thighs to your core until it wracks your body, hitting you harder than it had any other time. you don’t know what it was about him, but you were quick to flutter around him, and that had him pulling out, stroking himself for mere seconds until white stripes fall in messy streaks across your skin.

he pulls you closer when your lips move so your head tilts onto his shoulder, both of your guys’ chests heaving as if you had just been working out, as if you were running towards danger and felt the warmth of it’s embrace reel you in. it was billy’s arms, his eyes closing for a mere second before they open again, “thought i couldn’t make you cum.”

you hate the way you smile so easily at anything he says, the way you melt into his touch, the way even though you were merely a one night stand it felt like you wanted this to be an eternity, you wanted him to be a regular.

“mm, i faked it,” you say with a smile, so clearly a lie.

you move so he slips out of you, your cunt clamping around nothing as it missed the feeling of him inside of you. soon, you reassure yourself as you stand, convinced he will be returning. poor, poor girl, you were just another victim of the sweet talkers with pretty faces. it worsens as your legs become jelly, and he’s quick to stand, hands fastening to your waist and holding it to keep you balanced. his chuckle turns to a laugh, a deep, hearty laugh, “you sure, doll?”

you roll your eyes, pressing a kiss to his cheek, somehow your lipstick remained and it kept the mark staining his cheek as you left your kiss there. then you moved, taking your clothes and putting them on, “goodnight, billy.”

#billy the kid #tom blyth #coriolanus snow #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus x reader #billy the kid x reader #billy the kid x you #billy the kid smut #billy the kid fanfiction #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #smut #coriolanus smut

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ratskinsuit · 3 months

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•𝐔𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐤 𝐒𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭•

Hazbin Hotel Lucifer Morningstar x gn!Reader

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“Lucifer has been very stressed lately due to all of the work being piled onto him, the things going on in heaven, and Charlie’s hotel idea. So as his loving partner, you decide to help him destress a little bit in a very fun way.”

Tags: Smut, Oral sex, Lucifers little whimpers, exhibitionism? , Dom!Reader (Kind of), Sub!Lucifer, x Reader, Office blow jobs

MDNI

(Please enjoy this fanfic, it may not be the best because I haven’t written smut before, criticism is welcome.)

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You have noticed that recently your husband, Lucifer, has been more stressed than usual. He has been neglecting his needs, locking himself in his room and burying himself in his work. He hasn’t been eating as much and he has bags under his eyes. You rarely see him out of his office, never seeing him at any meals.

So you decided that you would go and try to convince him to take a break. You made him some tea and something for him to eat, a grilled cheese, some warm tomato soup, and some freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. After gathering all of the food on a tray, you head off to his office. Once you reach the office you put the tray in one hand and knock on the door three times.

“Come in.” You hear his tired voice say from the other side of the door.

You grasp the door knob and with a hum push it open and step inside, closing the door behind you.

At his desk Lucifer looks wrecked. He is sitting in his dress pants and a dress shirt, wrinkled and messed up, his sleeves pulled up to his biceps. His face furrowed in concentration, his eyes slightly bloodshot, with bags under his eyes. One of his hands is in his hands in his hair, gripping it tightly between his fingers in frustration, his bling licks messy.

He looks up as you enter and smiles tiredly. “Ah hello my love, do you need something?” He asks, sitting up straighter and trying to fix his shirt to not worry you.

You hum and bring over the tray setting it on his desk. “Well I know how stressed you have been lately, so I brought you some lunch and tea.” You say, setting his food out for him.

He gives you another smile, hey this time Warmer. “Oh thank you so much hunny, I completely forgot about eating.” He says, taking a sip from the tea and sighing.

You smile at him, and go behind the desk, stroking his hair with one hand, and the other rests in his shoulder, his face softening as you play with his messy locks, a most comfortable look now on his face.

“You really should take a break you know, all this stress isn’t good for you.” You say, and in response he lets out another sigh. “Well I can’t just take a break whenever I want, I mean I have duties hunny, I can’t just abandon them.”

“Are you sure? Not even just a tiny break?” You try to reason, your hand continuously petting his hair, and the other massaging his shoulder, trying to convince him. It seems to be working a bit, as he relaxes into the chair his eyes half lidded, yet his stubbornness still prominent.

“I don’t know…” He murmurs, rolling his arms as you massage them.

You pout, taking your hands off of him, causing him to whine a bit. You think for a moment, before an idea comes to you, a mischievous smirk making its way onto your face.

He notices it immediately and gives you a questioning look. “What are you thinking about hun?”

”Well how about I give you a little stress reliever while you work, hm?” You say, and before he can say anything getting on your knees and crawling under the desk.

“W-wait hunny what are you doing..? We can’t do this, s-someone might walk in, and- and I have to…” He trails off with a whimper as you begin to unzip his pants.

“Just keep quiet and keep doing your work and nobody will know.” You say with a wink, as you take out his red, already leaking cock.

He stares down at you before resting his arms on his desk, and whimpering, already breathing noticeably harder, even though you haven’t even touched him yet.

You stroke him a couple couple times. “Go on handsome, keep doing your work.” You say teasingly, and he whines a bit, grabbing his pen and trying to resume reading and signing.

You move your head closer to the head of his throbbing member, giving him a few kitten licks causing him to jolt,

“D-dear I don’t think I can do m… my work like this…” He say quietly, looking at you with a pleasing look on his face.

You ignore it, giving him a quick smirk as you begin to lick all around the shaft, starting from the base and moving up, earning you a groan from the man above.

You suck on the tip, swirling it around in your mouth with your tongue.

“F-..fuck darling ple- agh.. please stop teasing me…” Lucifer whimpers, squirming in his seat, panting harder now.

You continue to ignore it, your your tongue pressing against the slit, a loud moan rumbling above you.

You glance up to see your husband looking worse than before, his cheeks red, eyes watery, and hair somehow even worse than before. “My lah… love please…” He begs, more tears welling up in his eyes.

You decide to give him a break, and slowly start taking him into your mouth, going deeper down his shaft as he lets out a moan.

“Oh h-hell please p-p-lease oh agh… hng…” He moans, and squirms, obviously very pent up. He tries to thrust up into your mouth but you place my hands in his thighs, digging your nails into them, pulling an unhappy whine.

Once you reach the base you begin bobbing up and down, your tongue massaging his shaft.

“Oh h-hu- d-darling… please, I- Hng… I… hah.. fuck.. please..” Lucifer squirms and and moans loudly above you, one hand tangled in his hair, the other on the desk, breathing heavily, his eyes closed in pleasure, cheeks flushed.

With one of your hands you massage the inside of his thigh, causing him to get louder. “Please, I want- darling- m-mmm, nhg… please.. wanna, I need to- fuck…gonna- g’nna c-“ He babbles above you, barely able to make sentences, yet you can tell his close.

While you desperately want to tease him you decide against it, knowing he would probably break down with how stressed he already is.

You begin to suck and bob faster, you husband whining and pleading above you, you determainef to make his reach his peak.

“W-a- agh.. c-come.. fuck, gonna HNG, d-arling oh s-sa- Ang..” A few moment later mr moans out and releases, you swallow it all down, riding him through his orgasm until he is overstimulated and trying to get away.

You release him with a pop, standing up and wiping your mouth. Lucifer looks 10x worse than before, his hair sweaty and sticking out in all different ways, his face flushed red, his eyes half lidded and teary, still shaking from the aftershocks.

Despite this you give him a kiss on the forehead and a pat on the head. “I expect to see you at dinner tonight.” You say, before leaving.

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Well there is my first ever smut fic, and first fic in years! Criticism is accepted. Hope you enjoyed!

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

#hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer morningstar #lucifer magne #smut #tw:smut #he is such a bottom lmao #lucifer mange x reader #lucifer Morningstar x reader #lucifer smut #lucifer magne x reader smut #lucifer Morningstar x reader smut #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel x reader smut #hazbin hotel x reader #poor bby so stressed

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unorthodoxfaithxx · 4 months

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Yandere JJK - Yuta Okkotsu

When you leave for a month long mission without telling your close friend and maybe crush, Yuuta. You come back and he’s cracked.

It’d been two months since you left on a mission, only now being able to return back to Japan. When you arrived home to your shared apartment, you had expected a warm welcome from your kind and courteous friend, Yuuta. You imagined he’d tell you, “Welcome home,” ask how your trip was, and offer to make dinner like he usually did on days he felt adventurous enough to cook. The two of you lived pretty harmoniously together, both being capable sorcerers with similar demeanors and all.

What you didn’t expect was to be shoved against the wall of the flat’s narrow hallway kabedon style, body pressed flush against your roommate’s, who had a look on his face like he hadn’t been sleeping for weeks and just found out the cure to his insomnia was something ridiculously simple, bordering on relief and hysteria.

“Where. Have you been.” He practically growled, your heart beating at an odd pace since he was barely an inch away from your face.

“Uhnn, on a mission. But great news-I’m back home and won’t be working for a bit, aha?” You broke eye contact, unable to withstand the cold intensity of his dark eyes.

“And you left without telling me? Without telling anyone?”

“Well, to be fair it was a secret mission! It wasn’t to be disclosed and even then I knew it’d only make you worry and you’d probably end up trying to tag along somehow. I didn’t want to distract you from your work, Yu.”

Your explanation didn’t do much to help calm his nerves. You could tell he was obviously worked up, he was breathing hard, his arms were shaking, and his newfound grip on your shoulders was soul crushing. You knew your friend was strong, but the fact that you couldn’t move at all from your position was impressive.

“So you just up and left? That’s not fair,” His languid voice spoke with quiet rage. He was never one to raise his voice, not even now. “You don’t get to decide that. What if you had died? What if something happened and nobody from home knew anything about it? Would you be okay with leaving everyone behind? Leaving me?”

“No…I mean…I wouldn’t want that. I mean hey, I’m here! We’re good now, right? I’m fine! We’re fine.” You said this last part with no confidence, “…Are we?”

Yuuta took a step back, staring at the wall next to you because he couldn’t stand to look at you. “No. We’re not.”

He let you go, moving to turn back to his room. You grabbed his shoulder. “Hey-wait! I know you’re upset. I would be too. But please, don’t ignore me. I was so lonely on my own, now that I’m back I…well, is it too selfish to say I want you by my side? I missed you a lot.” Your abandonment issues were about to be the death of you.

“You trampled on my feelings, completely disregarding how I’d feel, and now you want pity?”

You deflated. “No. Just. I just want you. I’m sorry for hurting you, Yuta. I didn’t mean it, really.”

A minute of silence passed you both. You felt like you were about to cry. You sniffled. “I really am sorry.”

He stared at the ground, muttering a soft curse before looking back at you, slowly opening his arms. He sighed. “I can never stay mad at you. I missed you too. C’mere.”

And you nearly leapt into his arms, hugging him tightly. His scowl broke, turning into an ever so slight smile.

Coming home wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

You thought the two of you were cool and were about to offer to order take-out when he threw you over his shoulder, went to his room, and threw you on the bed, locking the door promptly behind him.

“Uhhhh, Yuuta?” You asked. “Watcha doing?”

He chuckled darkly. “You confessed to me before your mission, right? And then you bolted before I could even respond. Well, I’ve had a lot of time to think about how I should reply in the past months you were gone. And this is my response.”

Your face grew red. How could you have forgotten about that?

He crawled on the bed after you, leering over you like a tiger would its prey.

“I love you. More than anything in the world. And when I noticed you left and had no idea when you’d be back, or if you’d come back at all? I thought I’d go crazy. It took everything in me to not kill the elites that ordered you on the mission and drag you back home myself.” He had you caged between his arms again, voice dropping to something thick and heavy at his next words, “I decided that when you came back, if you ever came back, I wouldn’t let you go anymore. I want you by my side forever. And even then forever’s no where near enough.”

“Quite the romantic, are you big guy?”

He smirked at that. “I’ve had enough time to study up on the type of guys you like.” You shivered when you felt his lips glide across your neck, a rough hand slowly sneaking up your stomach, beneath your clothes.

“You’re mine tonight. And forever.”

Tonight was going to be a loooooooong night.

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planeteroticaaa · 1 month

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— ATTENTION

“let’s just go, my dear. cause the way you put it on, made me wanna take it off you.”

nanami was typically a rather patient man, but tonight he couldn’t help the twitch in his eye or the deep scowl on his face as he watched you make conversation with a group of his colleagues. you weren’t aware of the way they gawked at you in that long, black body con dress you wore—their eyes flickering from the generous amount of cleavage the low v-neck flashed to the way the wind blew the slit of the garment to show more of your legs each time your eyes closed when smiling that same smile that wooed him 5 years ago just as it was doing them now.

it wasn’t intentional, he knew it wasn’t. you just wanted to make a good impression, especially because you knew it could tarnish the way people at his job viewed him, but fuck were you doing too good of a job at pretending to care about what that arrogant, asshole of a boss had to say.

nanami hadn’t wished to go to this work party, ready to lie his way out of it and while you chalked it up to your husband not wishing to socialize, his worried were rooted deeper than that…you. he knew his collages would waste no time surrounding you in disbelief that nanami had a wife and in even more disbelief on just how beautiful you were.

how was it that you were the center of attention everywhere you went? that you turned this party from something everyone felt obligated to attend to wishing that it didn’t have to end at 12am because now it was about to be 2am and nanami was in the corner messing with his now loosened tie, waiting for you to finish your last drink so you could leave as he wanted to take that dress off of you just as much as his boss did.

he himself was surrounded by his female colleagues—each in his ear about how you “left him to flirt with other men right in his face,” their words full of malicious intent that would make any other man question had it not been nanami. he didn’t care for these women—hell, nobody did when you were here, hypnotizing everybody with the way that dress hugged your curves or how contagious your laugh was, the sound blessing their ears, the sway of your hips when you walked, that damn smile luring them in like a moth to a flame.

his resolve was slowly crumbling—checking the time on his expensive watch each time these women opened their mouth to throw another jab at you, staring at you from afar, eyes asking—no, begging you to leave for it was late and he didn’t know how much more patient he could be with you looking like that and them looking at you like that. he’s adjusted himself for the nth time tonight, uncomfortable by the strain in his dress pants. you were driving him insane and he hadn’t even realized he started making his way over to you until he grabbed your wrist.

“you ready to go, my love?” he asked, but something about the way he stared at you—his usual kind, brown eyes now narrowed and dark—that he wasn’t asking you. “ken—” “y/n.” was all he said, voice low and sturn, shutting down any chance of argument, tension so thick it left everyone around you quiet.

he was tired, pissed, and needed you more than anything right now and you couldn’t help but to hook your arms around his stronger one, your smaller frame against his with his bicep pressed up against your breast. “i thought you’d never ask,” you said after smiling and pulling him down to your level by his tie so that your lips brushed against his. yeah, he knew you were all his.

“i see the tension rising…i feel the temperature rising.”

in honor of my man dropping this HEAVEN SENT album🤭! but in all seriousness, i wanted to give you guys a little something because school has been kicking my ASSSS, but i got yall again soon! — ♱. erotica

— tags list!: @kashxyou, @lame-xxx, @ninacutebee16, @ynishalee, @im-a-simp-4-2d-men (submit your tumblr username here if you wish to be added!)

#planeteroticaaa #jjk #nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk nanami #jujutsu nanami #jujutsu kaisen nanami #husband nanami #nanami x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen

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gremlingottoosilly · 7 months

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The Horror and The Wild [Emperor!Konig x fem!Reader] Medieval Fantasy AU

You had a nice, simple life. Serve the princess, obey the princess, protect the princess with your life. You never thought that this nice, simple life would bring you to be kidnapped by the infamous Northern Emperor. Konig never thought that kidnapping a wife would be much easier than courting one. CHAPTER 1 CHAPTER 2| you're here! Word count: 5317 Tags/Warnings: Medieval fantasy/Alternative European history AU, Age gap, Enemies(one-sided)to lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Forced marriage, Size difference(Konig is absolutely huge), Somewhat one-sided slow burn, Yandere Konig This fic on AO3

— You’re really quiet, little princess.

König isn’t ashamed of staring at you the whole horse ride. He isn’t ashamed of touching you, his precious treasure – cupping your breasts through that pathetic excuse of a corset, trying to feel of your legs through the billions of skirts, his touches sprawling across your skin like bruises. He is a soldier in all regards – his touches are far from gentle, far from how he should behave with his bride. You feel like a piece of meat being presented for him to devour. Like an unwilling sacrifice for a benevolent god.

— Should I scream then?

Snarkiness isn't something that the princess should have – but it's the only weapon you have, although you are not sure if you can even use it. Emperor is laughing, and it is supposed to be a good thing – you were trained to receive such reactions, like a little dog standing and doing tricks on command; you were taught to strive for smiles on the faces of others. But König doesn’t allow you to see his smile, but König laughs all the time while describing to his soldiers the things he wants to do to you. It is almost surely, that he doesn’t think you know his language – you wish you didn’t know.

— I can give you a reason to scream. — You shall not threaten a… — I’m not threatening you, kleine Katzen. With a good time, maybe. — What are you referring to? — That I would love nothing more but to rip your skirt off and show your cunt a royal treatment, princess.

Emperor has a foul mouth, wandering eyes, and grabby hands – he behaves like a drunk man in a tavern, even though you have never once been in a tavern, and the only drunk men you barely saw were the castle guards on various celebrations. He doesn’t act like a glorious king from the romance novels – and you don’t think that you ever read a novel about a king or an emperor, not about princes and glorious knights. People with this much power don’t deserve love, they already have everything they have – so why would he kidnap you?

You turn away from him, the obscenity of his mouth makes your whole face burn. You are trying to hide yourself in your hands, you want to grasp something like a little fan or a handkerchief – everything to sustain your dignity. You are wearing the princess’s name and you have to behave like her – even if you don’t think that she would care about how you are behaving yourself. The dread of being exposed lingers in your chest, the only thing that doesn’t allow you to scream and launch on him like a wild cat. Rules and modesty tie you down stronger than any corset could.

Like a rabbit caught in the hunter’s trap – you steal looks at the nature around you, excited and terrified to see it for the first time – not the perfect greenery of the castle garden, but an untamed nature. You saw the city for the first time – your capital, not burned and agonized under the empire’s boot, but eerie quiet. The city doesn’t know your face, the princess was hidden, kept in the tower as a means to escape the burden of marriage proposals and possible wars for the sake of securing her beauty. Nobody here knows you for your face, and for them, it’s just the empire’s knights, a power from a country too foreign to be worried about, and a random kidnapped girl in a dissarranged dress and tears streaming down her face.

A hand on your waist secured you in place. No matter how much you squirm and cry, try to forget all the filthy nonsense he is whispering in your ear, you are forced to listen – and you want to cry every time his face hovers over yours. His hands are touching you, too much for comfort, your are still wrapped in his cape, but it’s a very small mercy for your torn dress and fragile body.

The road is long and short at the same time. Your kingdom was bordering one of Northern Empire territories, but it’s days away – you never once thought that having the Empire right on your border would be such a nuisance, that it would allow them to simply take whatever they want from your tiny country – the rules of politics are never applying to those in power and, unfortunately, you found out the worst way possible. The road is treacherous, with people surrounding you, with soldiers going through the beheaded country like it’s nothing. You were biting your lips the entire first day of the ride, trying not to cry – you do not want to give him the pleasure of seeing your distress, but you can’t help but sob every time he exits the cabin to yell at his soldiers or laugh at something.

You are not tied up, they trust you too much – they all know you would not be able to run, seeing just a helpless princess, a little war trophy of their emperor. The war trophy without the war, just a doll for him to enjoy. You steal a few glances at him – his spread legs that make you wonder how the poor horse even can handle him riding it, his mighty body, and his muscular arms. He could wrestle a dragon, you think – he could lift up the whole carriage and bring you back to the capital like this. He is a cocky bastard, not even having his sword in his hand whenever you move too much – too confident that this weak princess would not be able to resist him. You don’t want to fall from the horse and so you freeze in your tracks, even when they hit a small pause on the journey.

You can’t, of course – your hands are trained to hold clothes, to braid hair and, sometimes, fetch the water buckets – but you are mostly proficient in holding books, turning pages and embroidering. You can make tea, you can support the conversation, you can faint dramatically whenever the right opportunity occurs, but the ride has been happening for a few hours already, and you fainted three times – for specific reasons, of course, but fainting now would surely be a bit too much.

— Is little princess too tired to hold herself straight?

König chuckles in your ear, hands pushing you against his body. You don’t want to say anything, you’d rather continue your ride until you’re completely exhausted – books were never talking about how hard it is to ride a horse, that your rear would feel numb after the first hour, and your head would be bouncing on every little bump on the road. You never thought that the roads of your kingdom were so terribly maintained – and never thought it would be such a problem.

You grit your teeth, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of confirming just how weak you are – but he stops his horse once you are not responding, a hand slides under your hips to help you get out from the damned animal. You swear to god that you will never ride this foul creature again – but the god, as always, stays silent.

— What is it?

— Princess isn’t used to long detours. We’d have to stop before dawn if we want to keep this a secret for now. — Could travel for a few more hours before it’s too bright.

His second-in-command is a weird man, no doubt. Tall, broad, wearing armor with tiger prints all over the metal – although you never saw a tiger in real life, only on various illustrations of the books you were reading for the Princess. He is painfully informal in a way that makes you wonder how he can keep his head on his shoulders – surely, if he’d talk this way to a king, he wouldn’t be such a profound member of the army. König only shakes his head, pointing at you as the reason to stop – as you begged him to get off this bloody thing. — I need my princess with all innards intact. Especially the soft ones.

Emperor laughs, cupping your ass through the skirts. He somehow managed to grope your softness without breaking the corsage, and you’d feel thankful for him, but the dress was ruined anyway – all the hard work of redoing it over and over, every time you had to manage to squish the princess inside of the harsh corset and billion skirts, every little detail you were thinking through together…it feels somehow suitable, to wear a destroyed dress. Fake princess deserves fake luxury, but even the modesty he allows you to have with his coat wrapped around you feels forced.

Stopping right now, when you feel numb and your legs are getting weak and squishy like that weird transparent foreign delicacy, is very considerate of him. So much so you don’t even want to acknowledge it, hoping he’d just continue to go forward until all the traces of your past are gone. You’re too tired to consider anything from escaping to even opening your eyes. Suddenly, being on a horse of this size doesn't sound like something out of a fairytale. Suddenly, you realize that the horses are tall.

— What’s wrong, princess?

— I’m not going down.

You are sitting, frozen on top of his horse. One of your hands is keeping his coat wrapped securely around your body while the other squeezes the reins, hoping not to fall miserably to the ground. You hear soldiers laugh – the embarrassment spreads around your cheeks when you understand that a true princess would have horse riding lessons. You two never did – it would give you too much freedom, and your castle would never accommodate to large grounds of free roaming to keep a princess and her loyal maiden entertained. You can only hope they won’t think that the absence of your riding lessons would be too suspicious – and you also hope that he would just allow you to never jump down to the ground that feels horrifyingly far from you.

— Do you wish to run with my horse?

— Yes, your Highness. — Run, then. I’ll be waiting, little princess.

There is a laugh in his voice – you squeeze the reins and try to holster them, maybe kick the foul creature to the side so it would take the hint and start running in the direction of the nearest forest. Maybe you would get lucky, and the horse would drop you in front of the house of a kind forest witch that would take you as her student – you can cook, and you can read, so, naturally, any witch would be happy to have you as a disciple. Maybe you will get even more lucky, and the horse will kick you in the head after dropping you, finishing your misery in a tragic road accident. Not a honorable death, but a quick and interesting one. The horse remains frozen in place – just like you. König gently caresses its face, giving it something to eat – an apple, perhaps, a nice and tasty fruit, or sugar cubes, the delicacy that the princess would often indulge in but never gave you, or something of a…ah, this is it – you are starting to get jealous of his horse. Mayhaps, death is the only choice for you now.

— I will run.

— Of course you will.

— Sir, should we prepare the archers?

— Don’t know it yet. Maybe the princess escape would be too swift for them.

You feel your whole face burn – they laugh, they all laugh, looking at you like a piece of meat, a funny joke between them. You don’t want to fall from the horse, and you don’t want to stand here either – but every time you look down at the ground that is so, so far away, you can only shake in your seat. You feel like crying once again – and this is what brings you to the edge. With a deep sigh and shaking hands, you jump down swiftly, your eyes closed and your legs getting tangled in the various skirts, dragging you down. ***

The emperor had an understanding of what he was getting into when he kidnapped a princess. Princesses, pretty and young ones especially, are mysterious creatures that should be carefully studied by the imperial scientist in order to determine how in hell they can even exist without killing themselves on something stupid three times per day. This one, however, was a crowned ruler of weird girls – sometimes throughout the journey, he was thinking about returning her to the king and choosing another one. Then he remembered that he beheaded the king – and so, the bloody dot was sealed in the history of relationships between Northern Empire and this tiny shithole in the middle of nowhere.

Besides, the princess was too adorable to really throw her out. She is smart – for someone like her, anyway; her snarkiness combined with the primal fear of him and his men made him feel strong, more significant than before. It’s funny, in a way – König had defeated countless great warriors and spent his life turning the tiny Empire into the most powerful nation on the blonde, and yet, he never once felt this achieved as when he held the princess in his arms. The emperor never thought of marriage as a necessity, his whole magic endeavors securing that he would never have to worry about leaving an heir or having someone else to rule – but the loneliness can hit you like a royal stallion bred for the purpose of battery ramming into castle doors, and you can find yourself yearning for something that you never thought you’d want. Speaking of royal horses…

The princess is cute, the princess is dumb, and the princess is the most weird and perfect creature in the whole wide world. Makes him wonder just what was you doing in your little castle with your little servants, running around like ants under your dainty heel. You are snarky to him when you know that he is too busy to strike you and too tired to care about his opinion – he likes that about you, little yawns and feeble attempts to appear strong in front of him. He doesn’t, however, like the way you are frozen on top of his horse. He needs his wife helpless, yes, dependant on him in everything – and he also needs her to ask for help when needed, not…well, not jumping from the height of a royal horse in that stupid dress of yours.

God, hive him strength.

König, the ruler of the Northern Empire, biggest royal regime on the globe, thought that he overcame his anxiety when he was young, so long ago, he forgot how fast his heart can beat when the situation is going out of his control. He remembers this dreadful feeling now when that stupid brain of yours has decided that jumping from a horse is a good idea. He is fast, swift enough to catch you before you fall to the ground, and he squeezes your hips enough to hear the crack of that stupid dress construction.

He has to stop himself from yelling. From putting you in your place and slapping you across that perfect face of yours – never the one to beat women, König feels like spanking the shit out of you now. His eyes are flashing with anxiety, and he grabs your shoulders, putting you in front of him – you can’t see his face, covered by his mask, and it’s a small grace for someone like you. He is scary when angry, nostrils flashing with rage when he thinks that you’d rather break your neck than ask him for help.

— Made others set the camp for tonight.

Horangi is as perfect as a knight can be – his friend, his partner in crime, one of the only ones who still can survive his temper and not be intimidated by it. He can see the worry in his eyes when König is pushing the little princess down to his hold, draping the various skirts across his hands to rip them away – and he quickly yells at the other soldiers who produced the operation, making them run in various directions to collect wood, stones and set up the tents for tonight. They have to move away from the popular roads, even though nobody in this kingdom would be strong enough to hurt them anyways – but this operation should be a secret, at least relatively, until the princess is secured as his empress, and her body is sprawled across his sheets, withering from pleasure and…

Ah, Scheisse. König cannot stay mad at her when the mere thought of her smile makes his dick twitch in his pants. He survived through horribly throbbing erection against the metal plates of his armor for the whole ride, the small mercy of not having her soft body press against him directly. It didn’t stop him from wanting more, from whispering filthy things, completely undeserving of your virtue. You are bringing him down to his knees – even an emperor is just a man when a pretty girl looks at him, and even at is age, he could feel like a young lover searching for his bride’s hand.

Oh, but König would love something more than just your hand.

He should be thankful to his knights for how quickly they made a tent for him to secure the dignity of the first moment between a man and his sweetheart. He usually does everything himself, not wanting to make a lady in waiting out of his knights, but he enjoys their help now – he surely won’t be able to prepare for sleep with his wild cat of a bride in his hands. You are unusually active for a princess, trying to get out of his hands, kicking him with your adorable legs, still wrapped in a ruined skirt. Perhaps you were so mad at him for destroying your dress – he gets it, knowing how sensitive ladies are about this. He’d buy you a new one right away, but, for your stupidity, you deserve to wear only his coat until they are inside the borders of the Empire.

— Did you hit your head before I got you, princess? What were you thinking? — You told me to run. I did, Your Royal Highness.

He pinches his nose through the mask, not believing just how arrogant you sound – he wants to push you down, to open that dumb skirt of yours and give your precious ass a few spanks before setting you down, making you sit on the ruined muscle until you’d learn your lesson. The king was definitely not punishing you enough if you still think that you can talk to your betters (and elders) like this.

— I dared you to run. Thinking you’d accept the consequences with the dignity of a royal lady.

— Why don’t you kill me then? For belittling your dignity.

You look too snarky for his liking – he can see how terrified you are, little shakes of your hands and tears in your eyes. You are provoking him, picking the dragon with a stick so he’d burn you to a crisp. König knows that the customs of your kingdom value a good death over everything and just how much you’d love to fall into the grasp of a common tragedy. He also knows that he will not bury his bride before they are even married.

It’s only natural that the emperor grasps the front of your dress, the edges of the corset you tried to tie down to save some of your dignity. The fabric rips with ridiculous ease, all the gold spent on making it runs with the speed of a thread being torn. Suddenly, your front is exposed, even the underwear is not enough to conceal your privacy. König indulges in the view of your open skin, glossy from sweat and so, so delicious in dim magical light erupting from an artificial candle. He knows that he is playing a dangerous game, that not touching you now would be his greatest accomplishment and greatest torture at the same time – your body meant to be touched, you look like a doll and like a statue, like the greatest treasure and the most desirable slut he ever laid his eyes on.

The emperor is a man in the end – a war dog, closer to death than to the start of his life, a perfect incarnation of a horrible match to a young princess like you. Too wrathful, too arrogant, with more chips on his shoulders than the hair on your head, and yet, he holds you closely, putting you out of the torture device you are calling a dress.

You breathe for the first time in forever, and your mouth is shaking from unspoken tears and spoken pleas. He holds himself back from cupping your face in his hands and crushing your lips in a kiss, not because he doesn’t think he deserves it, but because you deserve better than to be fucked on the ground of his tent without proper preparation and some relaxing oils for your body. One kiss would never be enough for him, and he hadn’t touched a woman in far too long to handle himself properly now.

You look like you need to be ravaged – the greatest temptation König ever experienced.

— I can do so much to you, little princess. More than you could ever imagine.

— i’m not…n…not little. Your Highness.

— You are, compared to me. Should be scared, not snarky.

— I’m not snarky.

Just for this, he loses control – your voice, shaking with tears but never losing that arrogant edge, that delicious drawl that cannot be described as something that belongs to a princess, makes him lose all of the composure he had. König had prepared himself for a lady who would fall in his arms and cry the whole night long, he prepared himself for a fierce fighter that would try to kill him immediately – but you are soft and vengeful at the same time, too weak to resist him, but not too helpless to not run his mouth. You speak before you think, and it’s an adorable quality for a princess and horrible – for an empress. good thing you would be his regent, a pretty thing like you should never be annoyed with politics and mingling. König pushes you across his lap, his free hand is tearing through various skirts, and what is left from that awful strick construction you tried to pass as a skirt support. He never understood why anyone would live through this torture – you’d look way nicer in his shirt and nothing more. Or, even better, nothing at all, chained to a bed in his bedroom until he’d think that you are tamed enough to be shown in public.

You yelp in surprise, precious dumb thing. Just like a princess, you are not accustomed to the consequences of your own actions – you think that you can just run your mouth or do dumb things without his wrath falling upon you…and, little princess, you’re in for quite a shock. Your emperor doesn’t have enough patience for this, even though he did want you as his wife and knew what chaos it could bring. He just never thought that he’d have so much pleasure in looking at your adorable bottoms, all modest and long. Your underpants are adorably white, not stained from multiple washings, crisp and new – he feels the fabric with his fingers and almost thinks to not rip them away, just to appreciate the fine silks that went into constructing it.

His mercy is cut short by that sweet whimper of yours. You plead with him not to touch you – like you have a saying on this. König defiled the death itself, so why would he even consider such silly things as chastity before marriage? He certainly had enough women in his bed to forbid him from ever going to heaven, and robbing you of your innocence would be a small crime against all the countless sins he already committed.

But, he doesn’t want you to hate him – and you would, certainly, not in the fiery and passionate way he might enjoy, but a quiet, broken anger. He doesn’t want to turn this fragile thing into the broken shell of the betrothed princess, even if you need to be taught a harsh lesson – and you deserve much better than having your cunt destroyed on the harsh floor of his tent.

— You’re lucky, little princess.

He laughs, taking down your underpants – a harsh hand on your bottom, rough fingers that almost burn you without a glove to conceal his touches. You whimper when he lashes on the sensitive skin, stroking sensitive skin. If you knew how hard you make him, you’d run away with his horse already.

— How am I lucky? You…you killed the king, you destroyed my country, you…

— I killed your father, yes, but I left you alive.

— To make a show for your soldiers, I assume..

— If I wanted to leave you to waste, I would allow them to bounce you on their dicks a while ago.

— How d…

— You’re lucky because you’re mine, little princess. Not going to share you with anyone. But…

— But?

Your voice has finally gone down. he can almost taste the dread in your tone. König was burning down villages, destroyed his enemies with nothing more but a rusty sword and hatred in his heart – but he truly feels like a monster when he slaps your ass for the first time and sees your tear-filled eyes staring at him. God, he never was faithful, but hurting you feels like defiling an angel.

And he loves every second of it.

— You need to learn a lesson of respect, little princess.

It’s a small grace that he doesn’t make you count his slaps – he simply pushes you down, makes sure that your face is lying on his cloak, just for something soft to rely on, and gives you enough slapping to make the rest of horseriding as painful as possible. Maybe, it would teach you a lesson that if you need help, you’d have to ask him, to beg him for this – and not try to hurt yourself by doing it on your own. You’re awfully independent and resilient for the princess.

It took him at least five strong, harsh lashes of his hand on your rear to make you cry as loud as he wanted you to. He cups your face in his palm, forcing you up his lap – and smothered your lips with a kiss. König knows he is overstepping; he wouldn’t be able to let go of you after devouring your lips like that, but he doesn’t care, at least for now. He wants to be your everything, to push every thought out of your head and fill it with himself.

He adores the thought of being your first kiss, your first everything – you’re so inexperienced, so fragile in his hold. Never once thinking of himself as an appreciator of all the thighs dainty and artsy, he wants to worship that pout, your closed eyes, and little prayers of mercy you whisper between each kiss. Your body feels too enticing in his hands, a treasure he needs to keep all to himself. It’s a miracle he didn’t push your underwear down and took you all the way – as much as he wanted to touch you.

König smiled when you cried into the kiss, trembling in his hold like a caged animal. Never once he thought he’d have this much fun without taking some plumpy woman on his dick, but you are full of surprises. Another five smacks on your ass left you with a bruised bottom and tear-strained, wet face. The look of misery in your eyes made him cackle – god, you were adorable. Continue like this, and he’d spend the rest of his life with you on his lap.

— We will sleep now. The Empire borders are still days away, and you don’t look like you could handle the road right now.

You pout, pushing yourself off his lap. Even the hard floor of the tent was better, the cold fabric made your butt sting a bit less. You still couldn’t sit straight, still miserable, with a burning feeling in the depths of your tummy – hate, perhaps, that made your hands shake and your thighs feel a bit too wet and warm for your liking. There is a knot in your lower stomach that makes you feel weird, anxious, that makes you squeeze your legs shut as you push through the pain and get your underpants on again. The soft silks of the princess’s undergarments made you feel a bit better.

— I’d love nothing more but to run away while we’re still at my home, Butcher.

He smiles under his hood, pushing his hand on your backside. You freeze as he rolls you over, making you fit perfectly against his broad chest. He is a horrible, disgusting human being, clingy and warm around you – his bear-like hold is too strong on your limbs, making you freeze completely.

— I’m sure you are, Liebling. And I would love to catch you and spank your rear again.

— I will…you won’t catch me.

— Someone will. I’ll pay handsomely to any knight or wandering hunter to bring my wife back to me.

— I’m not y…your wife.

— Yet.

You turn away from him – try to, at least. He squeezes you against his chest makes you calm down in his hold like a wild cat he picked up on the side of the road. You don’t want to admit it, but he is warm, cozy, and even the harsh fabric he threw on the ground to make you a bed feels nice compared to the castle floors where you spend so much time. You still squirm, trying to find a good position to lay next to him without feeling like a toy in the hands of a grabby kid. König feels your wounded, perfect ass grinding against him – out of most of his armor, he can’t contain his erection now. Oh, how the strong emperor wished he’d have

— Stop moving, princess. Unless you want to consummate our marriage early.

— I’m not…I’m not moving.

— You are squirming. Is the ground not to your liking?

— I must prefer sleeping in a grave with my papa. — Can’t promise you this…but isn’t sleeping with the Death himself would be enough? — You’re not death, your highness. A blight, maybe. Or a plague. — You’re making me blush, little princess. There is a smile in his voice. You feel your cheeks heat up again, but you can’t say anything. Too many nights sleeping by the princess’s bedspot, always being the first one to greet her at sunrise and the last one to tell her stories before going to sleep. Like a loyal dog on the wooden floor, with a pillow under your cheek for comfort – all of her other handmaidens, precious ladies from good families, had their own quarters and rooms.

You had a cot by her bed and her endless affection.

Compared to this, sleeping on the floor of a rich tent with an emperor by your side isn’t as bad. You have to remind yourself that you are sleeping with a murdered, pillager, kidnapper and colonialist – you shouldn’t feel warm by his side. But, he hugs you like a lover. But, he buries his masked face in your hair and inhales your scent – sweet fragrances mixed with the blood and sweat of a long journey.

You fall asleep in his arms before you can think of something smart to say.

König doesn’t fall asleep until hour later – too busy looking at your precious form, wrapped so perfectly in his arms.

#cod #konig x reader #yandere konig #konig #cod x reader #call of duty #cod x you #konig mw2 #reader insert #yandere cod #male yandere #konig x you #konig x y/n #cod x y/n

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choiyawnzjun · 5 months

Text

next part

pairing ; nerdychurchboy!jake x afab!reader

sypnosis ; the nerd at church isn’t quite as innocent as you think.

genre ; smut

wc ; 1110

warnings ; making out, dry humping, orgasm denial, oral ( f receiving ), fingering ( lemme know if i missed anything )

you always thought that you would never talk to the new boy that had come to your school just a few months ago. he always hung out with that school clique nobody really cared about. however, he did go to that church your parents would force you to go to with them every sunday but you guys still never talked. that was until you both became partners in physics. after that, you guys would talk every so often. even in church.

he was friendly but.. he was such a neek. you hated it so much because he was always talking about these science things to you that you would never understand. you thought that he would always stay a silly virgin if he was just going to talk about science the whole time with people. you never told him that, of course. but… one day you got carried away.

“gosh, you know electrolysis just-..” you cut him off, you guys were in the church attic together, you decided to skip the mass today and just chill upstairs, you were going to be alone but jake decided to tag along. at first, you were hesitant to let him go with you since you knew he would just talk about science the whole time but you thought that maybe he wouldn’t this time. however, you were wrong.

“oh my god, jake!” you whisper-shouted, throwing your head into your hands, getting frustrated about hearing him ramble like this all the time.

“do you ever talk about anything else other than science? like, at first i was fine with it until i got sick of it. i’m not even sick of it anymore i’m just worried about you now.” you rambled on, not looking at him even once.

“why worried?” he asked, perplexed by the sudden comments you were making now. he hadn’t realised he’d been talking about science so much.

“how are you going to even get girls if you’re just gonna talk about science all day long? like, that’s no fun is it now?” you scoffed, you looked up to see his blank face turn into a cocky smirk as he slowly walked over to you and knelt down on one knee to face you.

“what do you mean? of course i’m fun. i just haven’t shown you it yet.” you were the one confused now as he just stared at you, waiting for your response.

“what do you mean ‘you just haven’t shown me yet’ like, shown me what?” your voice being soaked in absolute confusion and curiousness, you stared back at him, observing every single detail on his face.

“well, i didn’t really wanna be doing things you weren’t okay with.” he shrugged, now sitting down next to you. you stayed silent for a few moments, not having a clue on what to say next. you didn’t really know what he was talking about.

you were so immersed inside your own world that you hadn’t realised he had gotten closer to you, gazing at you with his dark brown eyes.

“what?” you awkwardly laughed, trying to avoid eye contact with him.

“can i kiss you?” he casually asked, cheekily smiling at you. you were hesitant at first by the sudden question but you didn’t really mind. it was just going to be one innocent kiss, right?

you leaned closer to him and your lips moulded together like two perfectly puzzle pieces that matched. his lips were pillowy which you loved and the only thing that surprised you was that he was a very good kisser. like very good.

he slipped his tongue into your mouth when you slightly gasped for breath and he pulled you onto his lap. you both pulled away from each other for a few seconds, his glasses were foggy and his eyes looked hazy and were half-closed. he tugged on your shirt, asking for permission to unbutton it which you gave. he impatiently unbuttoned your shirt as you were both giving each other sloppy kisses. the wetness you were getting down there grew and grew that you started to grind onto him.

“shit, i can feel your pussy throbbing on me.” he groaned, rubbing your thighs with his hands.

“i wanna feel you so bad, jake.” you complained, fiddling with his belt, wanting it to magically come off him. this adorable action made jake chuckle a bit.

“be patient, don’t be a little brat, hm?” he smiled, leaning towards you and peppering you with kisses. he hiked up the dress you were wearing that complimented you a lot which turned jake on even more. he gazed down at your panties and was greeted with a wet spot on them.

“jesus christ, why are you so wet already? I’ve barely done anything. are you that desperate to get dicked down?” your face heat up from his remark but you could care less because what he said was true anyway. you haven’t had sex in a while so…

“can i?” he made you lie down on your back and he hooked your panties off with two fingers after you nodded. his face was now in contact with your slick-covered folds that were glistening in front of him.

“fuck..” he muttered underneath his breath which fanned against your clit. he slowly delve into your pussy, sucking and licking on your clit as if he hadn’t eaten in god knows how long. he inserted a finger into you and all you could do was cover your mouth to muffle the moans and whines that were begging to be thrown out into the air.

“why are you so good at this, jake?” you managed to let out, your legs fidgeting around until jake had to hold them down to keep you still. after what you said, he sucked onto your clit harder as if there was no tomorrow. he inserted another finger into you after your sudden comment.

the moans you were trying so hard to cover could not be covered anymore, your hands naturally grabbed jake’s hair as you bucked your hips against his face while he lapped against you.

“fuck! jake! i’m gonna cu-..” the tightening knot that was burning in your stomach slowly vanished as jake pulled away from you, your juices all over his chin and lips.

“sim jaeyun, why would you do that?” you cried, frustrated because you haven’t felt that good in so long.

“i still haven’t shown you how fun i am yet.” he shrugged, getting up and dusting himself off even though there was really nothing on him.

“maybe i’ll show you later when you’re begging for it.” he winked, leaving the attic.

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chastiefoul · 1 year

Text

regret | alhaitham

a/n: a very messy drabble based on some idea that popped into my head. basically about a y/n who's very in touch with their feelings vs alhaitham handling those feelings (to nobody's surprise, it didn't end well)

tags: angstyyy

part 2 here

1.5k words

to say that you get along with alhaitham would be a stretch.

anyone would agree that your interactions consisted only of you always pestering him and alhaitham barely tolerating it. this causes amusement but also worries, you both being the polar opposites and all.

the arrogant and cold scribe versus the bright and cheery you. there’s a line, a wall if you will; that made everyone wondered, how long would the strange dynamic last before something eventually went wrong.

and it finally did.

❀

hanging out with kaveh is something of a routine, with you studying the same subject; architecture. people were always naturally drawn to you, kaveh wasn’t the exception. you both get along with each other pretty quickly, and he’s been a close friends since. you even got to know alhaitham through him.

alhaitham said once, that you both were pretty similar albeit with different words—or to quote him as he spoke with such exasperation, “archons, now there are two of them.” still however alike, he quietly also thought there’s a key difference, a very apparent contrast that he couldn’t help but notice, even he didn’t try to.

you and kaveh both were very in touch with your emotions, meaning all of your actions often solely driven by feelings. although with kaveh he wasn’t ashamed of this, always stating clearly—or unnecessarily, if something had upset him. but you on the other hand chose to hide that displeasure, masking it with an uncertain smile, one that’s clearly forced. as though wanting to halt any further argument. that somehow infuriated alhaitham.

everyday you would always greet him without any care in the world. even though every conversation you had with alhaitham, somehow always turned into something he had to won, that he had to have the last word. he also couldn’t figure it out himself what got him so worked up every time he talked to you.

❀

“kaveh, don’t you think alhaitham is a nice person?” one a peaceful lunch you asked. he shot you a disgusted look, as if the question had offended him. “are you in your right mind?” he quickly retorted. “well despite him looking so fed up and all that, he still talk to us, doesn’t he?” you played your food with your fork. “... and that’s why he’s ‘nice’? dear god the bar is in hell—no it’s even below the devil’s foot itself.” he sighed, really couldn’t believing his ear. what got you so infatuated with him anyway? in all honesty kaveh was having a hard time remembering if there was ever a time where alhaitham was nice to you, he only recalled your cheery attitude getting shot down by alhaitham’s apathy every single time.

wait. he knew what this is.

“you like him.” kaveh suddenly said. you couldn’t turn your head to him any quicker. “what?” you panicked. “you heard me. now i just need to hear you admitting it.” there’s a playful smile on kaveh’s face, he’s teasing. “you won’t, cause i don’t.” you said, trying hard to be calm while eating your food. “mmhm,” kaveh hummed knowingly, an annoying smirk plastered on his face. “you know what? i don’t have to listen to this, i’m leaving.” you pouted, gathering your stuff. “yes, and you know what your in-denial self should listen to instead? me.”

“shut up!”

❀

“good morning, alhaitham!” you greeted him per usual with high energy. he hummed a reply, acknowledging your presence. when you just lingered there showing no sign of leaving he sighed. “how many times do i have to tell you my office is not a playground where you can hang around however you please?” he asked, preparing to sort out the documents from the fresh pile that just came. “i was just—nevermind that, do you need any help?” you asked with a smile. however the harmless question just tick something unpleasant inside of the scribe, he knew you meant well, truly he knew that. “do i look like someone who’s incapable of doing my own job?” he questioned in a cold tone.

“of course not! i just thought since i was a little free-“

“right. you thought, that never went well though, did it?” the viciousness was out of nowhere, you were caught off guard.

“what’s that supposed to mean?” you narrowed your eyes at the harsh words—like he was saying that you were some kind of an idiot. he was always ill-tempered towards you, but he didn’t need to be this harsh over a mere offer to help.

alhaitham could feel he was being unreasonably mean, but he just couldn’t stand it. your useless kindness, your warmth, your concerns over his well-being all of these were so strange for him and his initial reaction was to reject and mock them. alhaitham felt like he was above it, it was too troublesome. he was fine living up to this point without the concerns from other people, and he was sure as hell he wasn’t going to start not being fine without it anytime soon.

“why do you always think i need help? or do i need someone to remind me when to have my meal, or telling me to be conscious of my sleep schedule? frankly, it made me very uncomfortable,” once he started he felt like he couldn’t stop. alhaitham was mad, but if someone had asked him why he also wouldn’t be able to find the words to explain. he just was.

“well excuse me for trying to look out for my friend!” you raised your voice.

“friend? i never once thought of you that way,” he said. that shut you up real quick. the confession left your mouth agape, your chest ached. just what you are to him then, for the past half-year? but then when you think about it again, when has he exactly treat you as if you were something more of an acquaintance? in the end it was on you to assume, but it still hurts nonetheless.

in the brief silence alhaitham found the answer as to why was he so aggravated every time he talked to you.

alhaitham was blunt, he was ruthless in commenting on things that are out of place according to him. he was arrogant, often thinking that he’s above everything else, this include his way of life. a life of solitude; without the need of other people. but then you came, and his principles was shaken. alhaitham was a lot of things, but none would say that he’s fickle. yet, his rage right that second was a living proof that perhaps alhaitham was never the winner of those meaningless conversations he had with you. that truthfully, you already had him at the first good morning greeting you had given him with a bright smile.

and that is alhaitham’s hardest pill to swallow. you, a single person managed to make him almost change his entire life principles he had believed his whole life. and that’s as terrifying as it is infuriating to him. he couldn’t let you sway him more than this.

after what felt like eternity you finally responded.

“there’s a limit to being heartless, don’t you think?” you weakly said, you don’t even know what you were hoping for as a reply honestly. “there’s also should be a limit to your groundless assumptions.” he didn’t even look at you as he said these things, which perhaps good since you seriously couldn’t hold your tears anymore.

you had never believed rumors about people, as you will never know the truth unless you verify it yourself. but there, standing quietly as your tears wet the floor; there was no denying it anymore, alhaitham was indeed a heartless man who has zero empathy towards other living being.

“maybe i was wrong about you, alhaitham.” you smiled sadly.

it’s better this way.

“you were. now if you don’t mind, i have work to do.” he stated firmly, meaning: get out. which you will do gladly once you said your piece.

“it’ll do you good in the future to not be so driven by your emotions,” he still thought he was in a position to lecture you.

“yeah? and it’ll do you to good get off your high horse once in a damn while, you’re not fucking better than everybody else, alhaitham.”

“maybe so, but i certainly know i’m above acting solely over any emotion i’ve felt in the moment. i stopped doing that after i turned six, actually.” to think he'd mock you for crying.

“fuck you, alhaitham. enjoy your ‘alone’ time, i hope it stays that way forever.” you walked away from his office, swearing to yourself that it will be the last time you set foot on that damn place. alhaitham rarely see you frown, and to see you that angry and he was the cause of it.. silence got the better of him, the insides of his chest was swirling, he wasn't sure what to feel.

when your footsteps was finally out of hearing, alhaitham brought his palm to his face, his emotions getting the better of him. he saw the the hurt in your face, it was beyond saving. there’s nothing he could possibly say or do to get you to forgive him. and that was his intention of course, to get you to hate him. but he never thought he’d be ready for that.

alhaitham days quickly returned to the monotous routine. a quiet cycle, he thought he loved that. it's easy to realize that he did not anymore.

he's already so used to you. he kept waiting for you every morning, maybe if he wished hard enough you’d forget everything and just came back like nothing happened. but those days didn’t come, the memory quickly turns into anguish but more than that, regret.

aside from his ego, perhaps this regret is also something he would take to his grave.

part 2 maybe??

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin scenarios #genshin impact x you #genshin fanfic #genshin impact x reader #genshin x you #genshin angst #alhaitham x you #alhaitham x reader #al haitham x reader #alhaitham angst

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thesturniolos · 5 months

Text

guilty pleasures

m. sturniolo x reader

summary: well, yall asked for it 💁🏼‍♀️ it’s part 2 bitches !!

warnings: smut, swearing, sub!matt (why does this even need a warning?), degradation.

tags: @sturnioloshacker @strniohoeee @sturniolopepsi @strawberrysturniolo @lilasturns @lovingmattysposts @m4ttsturniolo @mbbsgf @meg-sturniolo @mattsneezing @malsturns @urfavstromboli @recklesssturniolo @heartsforchrisandmatt @hoesformatt @iheartchrissturniolo @cutesouls @chrisenthusiast @creamoncreamoncream2 @chrisdevora @nickenthusiast @noellesturniolo @mattsturniolosgf @sturniolossmut @struniolos @sturniolosstar @klarasmith @kirby0strombolli @kenzieiskoolaid @kenzieluvssturniolo @justangelheree @matthewsturniolo @mattscokewhore @mattnchrisworld @delusionalsturniologirl @apclyptc @91sturniolo @bernardenjoyer @byechristopher @bluesturniolo333 @bernardsleftbootycheek @biimpanicking @mattsbratt @iammattswife @m4tthewsgf @silly-sturniolos @ducksturniolo @plasticferal

“need help?”

i’m frozen. i’m literally frozen. i don’t care about the ache in my pants anymore, i need her to repeat whatever the fuck she just said.

“w-what?” my cheeks are pink, i know that and even though i’m basically towering over her, i feel flustered and small. a girl has never had this effect on me, never made me feel this way or made me cum this way. how does she just say that and casually smirk like that?

“i’m kidding, matt. god, don’t get so worked up.” she laughs and turns before walking away to the kitchen. i’m sad, i’m sad about her not meaning those words. i’m close to tears about her not helping me with my boner, how pathetic.

i scurry to the bedroom but not to relieve the pain which has been lingering by the pool but the new found pain in my chest of rejection. to think that she actually would’ve wanted to have done that, so randomly too. like one minute she was laughing by the pool with me and then she was gonna be on her knees on my bedroom floor.

pathetic, stupid little tears are begging to fall from my eyes, a reminder that she won’t like me like that and those drunk words really weren’t sober thoughts like everyone claims they are.

she’s everywhere in this house. she’s in the photo frames on my walls, in the background of my phone, in the hallways, her voice echoing the house. she is everywhere and she always has been ever since we were small. which is why i cannot let my feelings get to me because after all she is still a friend, a very good one.

luckily the hard-on i’ve been struggling with has subsided, i wonder why. i was worked up over her after all, it doesn’t really feel the same after that’s happened. but that doesn’t mean i’m holding grudges, i don’t hate her for that, i don’t feel any different. i still long for everything she has. her hugs, her warmth, her kisses, her perfect curly hair, her curves, her gorgeous fucking smile.

im also not saying i didn’t want her to help me, i needed her to help me. help me come undone all over her, needed to see her perfect naked body laid on my sheets, needed to know i was making her feel good. but i also wanted everything else, all the sweet things we could do together.

a knock at my door runs through the room, can i have privacy in this house?

i don’t get long to answer before the door is opened and i see her. god, what are you doing to me? she smiles, poking her head through a small gap, holding up a plate of something.

“i brought you some food?” she frowns looking at me, walking into the room more and shutting the door behind her. oh, great.

“thanks, you didn’t have to.” i say, looking away from her. my acting isn’t great and my sad expression is still very visual.

“no worries, i - um are you okay, matt?” she places the plate on my desk and walks closer to me, standing just in front of me. still in that fucking swimsuit.

“me? oh yeah, im fine. why?” im quiet but im desperately trying to raise my voice to try and convince her properly. why is nobody on my side? like what?

“it’s just i know that i kinda- i kinda messed up out there. like, it was wrong of me to say that, we’re best friends you know? i didn’t mean to make you uncomfy.”

uncomfy? she thought she made me uncomfy? i wasn’t uncomfy, i was desperate.

“oh no, i didn’t even care to be honest. you’re good.” i laugh and look down at my hands. with her staring at me like that i literally cannot focus.

“well you just seemed a little flustered, you know?” she moves her hand up to my face and brushes away a hair that’s fallen. she noticed. i look up to see her doe eyes filled with what looked like concern? or was it something else? whatever it was, whatever she’s doing, is making my throat dry. we’re so close and i’m suddenly aware of my breathing and her breathing and the way she swallows and when her chest falls and-

“a little like you do now.” she smirks and she’s closer, if that’s even fucking possible. her breath is fresh on my lips and she goes to whisper, “it’s cute you know, matt.”

and with that she pushes her lips onto mine and it’s like heaven in a kiss. it’s indescribable, it’s everything i could possibly have imagined, it’s the healing of the small crack in my heart. her lips are warm and welcoming, her teeth slightly tugging at my lips as she pulls back slightly, her eyes opening to meet mine.

she goes to speak but i don’t want her to, i just want to feel her on me again, i needed it. i grab her face and smash her lips against mine again and this time it’s desperation. it’s years of waiting and secret looks in hallways, it’s every candle i’ve blown out on my birthday praying for this, it’s everytime i cried in her arms and she’s cried in mine.

our tongues dance and im pushing her onto the bed, i need her. for all of the times i’ve thought of doing this and refrained and now she’s actually here and underneath me, it’s too surreal.

we lose rhythm and it becomes sloppy, saliva covering both of our mouths, dripping down our chins as i slowly trail down her neck. she whines slightly and i could’ve sworn i came right there, right then. the voice of angel.

i groan against her neck in response, focusing on that sweet spot, hoping to create some kind of mark as evidence that this fucking happened because it just does not feel real. i need something to show in the morning, that it wasn’t a dream.

“matt, i need you.” and that was all i needed to pull the straps of her bikini down and to be fucking blessed with the most beautiful pair of tits i’ve ever seen. it was better than i imagined, her nipples as hard as ever, ones i was eager to take into my mouth and so i did.

i worked on both of them, switching every now and then, making sure they got equal love, squeezing the opposing tit too. the little moans that left her mouth when i sucked and pulled on them made my dick twitch in my pants and was enough to make me pull away from her boobs and drag her panties down.

she sits up, unbuckling my belt and throwing it to the floor all while remaining eye contact with me as i look down at her, ready to pound her into the bed. i needed to see her squirm under my touch, fill her up.

“my turn.”

okay so i’m literally evil and i’m making a PART 3 !! because i wanted to get this out today but i’m tired andddd i wanna make really fckin good smut bur hope y’all like the switch up!!

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lixie-phoria · 5 months

Text

↳ ♡₊˚. tag, you're it ꒱

— skz helping 9th member reader w/ her paranoid personality disorder

requested - yes // 9th fem!member who has paranoid personality disorder (PPD) and she always thinks that she isn’t alone in the dorms when she’s by herself? The boys don’t know anything about is as she hides it from them but one day the boys get a camera for the living room as weird things have been happening when they aren’t there... skz x 9th member fem!reader / warnings - angst w happy ending, mentions of anxiety, paranoia, stalkers, and paranoid personality disorder / 3.2k words / a/n - this is the longest fic i've ever written 😭

"boo!"

"fuck!"

you gasped in shock, stumbling back as hyunjin popped out from behind the couch, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

"did i scare you?" he giggles, standing up properly and making his way towards you, failing to notice how you eyes were still quivering with fright and your tight grip on your phone.

"why would you do that, hyunjin?"

you sound off, your voice an octave higher and trembling with an emotion that confuses him. was he sensing anger?

"it's just a joke ynnie. calm down."

it wasn't just a joke to you, though. it was much more than that. but you couldn't to explain it to him, so you leave him in the living room with an eye roll, staring at your retreating figure in confusion.

hyunjin doesn't bring it up after that. maybe he just happened to catch you on one of your bad days.

but he begins noticing things ever since - things that weren't necessarily normal. things that you have always done, but this time when he really thinks about it, they're a bit strange.

how you're always extra jumpy, flinching at every loud sound, refusing to leave the house without an unnecessary amount of security, being extra cautious when you went to public events, and straight up refusing to socialize with anyone more than necessary.

your members always labelled it on you being an introvert. but to the extent that you barely even spoke about yourself to your own members? as though scared to trust them with information? that wasn't normal, was it?

hyunjin thinks hard. he's a bit worried about you, but he doesn't know what to do.

tell chan? no. chan didn't need more problems on his plate.

confront you? no. you hated confrontation. it would worsen things.

talk to another member about it? maybe. but you might get mad at him. you always hated people meddling with your personal life.

so he stays silent for a while, observing from a distance.

and he begins picking up on signs soon enough.

you were paranoid. extremely paranoid. he caught you looking over your shoulder every few minutes, expertly dodging personal questions, being hypersensitive to criticism, having spells of moodiness that followed no particular pattern, suddenly giving your own members the cold shoulder, over analysing every little interaction you had with people. it was worrisome.

yes maybe hyunjin was looking into it too much and it wasn't that big of a deal. but he couldn't brush off a certain thought nagging him at the back of his mind. something was definitely up, and it was about time he spoke to the others about it.

"I think yn has a stalker." hyunjin mutters, shifting uncomfortably in his seat under the blank gazes of the other 7.

"what?" chan sounds confused, eyebrows furrowed as he shares an unsure glance with lee know. "did she say anything?"

that was the problem. you didn't. so he had no solid proof other than his theories.

"well, not really" he rubs the back of his neck. "but something is wrong. I know it. she's been acting weird."

"weird as in?"

"it's the usual. she hasn't changed. but when you look into her habits, they're not normal hyung."

it's tense. nobody knows what to say until changbin breaks the silence.

"what do you mean by not normal?"

"I don't mean it in a bad way," hyunjin hastily defends. "it's the way she's so paranoid, always on the edge. it can't be anxiety. anxiety doesn't make you act that way. it's almost like she's scared of something or someone."

he leaves it at that, allowing for the others to ponder over it.

your managers hadn't mentioned anything. maybe it was a sasaeng bothering you? maybe you slipped up and you were scared to share it with the company? scared of their berating?

"we can't jump to conclusions, can we?" felix interjects, fingers anxiously drumming against the table.

hyunjin shakes his head. "we can't. that's why i've been observing her for the past few weeks, and this was the most reasonable explanation i could find."

"what exactly made you start looking into it?"

"i tried jump scaring her two weeks ago, when she thought she was alone at the dorms. and she was so livid she didn't even crack a smile. i thought maybe she was just in a bad mood but for a few days after she kept acting strange around me. she would barely speak to me and even when she did she wouldn't meet my eyes."

chan hums, a frown twisting against his features. if hyunjin's guess was correct, you could be in serious trouble. and if he thought about it, there may just be a chance the boy was right. if you really did have a stalker threatening you, the chances you told them about it were close to zero. you were never one to confide in people easily.

"let's not tell the managers about it, yeah? we'll all observe her too. try seeing if there's anything out of the ordinary?"

and so they all agree, leaving the company in a much worse mood than with which they had entered. you were alone back at the dorms. it was your first day off in a very long time. hence hyunjin had chosen that moment to tell the others.

the drive back is tense. nobody says much. a few of them scroll through social media, trying to see if there's any news about a stalker. but they come up with nothing.

everything seems normal.

that is until they reach their apartment.

the change is immediately obvious. when chan unlocks the door, he stumbles back in surprise when he sees their dinner table blocking the corridor of the entrance, preventing them from entering the living room. the couch had also noticeably shifted, turned such that anyone sitting on it would have a clear view of the windows and the front door. every window is shut, the latches bolted.

"what the fuck happened here?" seungmin mutters in shock, carefully lifting the table from one end and moving it to make space for them to enter. the entire layout had changed.

"where's yn?"

all of them are visibly terrified as they make their way deeper into the dorm, noticing the can of pepper spray lying on the center table.

"yn!"

no answer.

"fuck. I hope she's okay."

there's nothing they can do besides hope as they reach your door. it's locked. there's no sound coming from the other side.

"yn?" Chan's voice wavers as he silently knocks at your door.

no answer.

"yn! it's us!" lee know pounds against the door.

there's a moment of tense silence before they hear the unmistakable click of your lock.

"hi?"

your hair is ruffled and your eyes puffy. you had been asleep.

it takes you by surprise when jeongin pushes his hyungs aside to grab you by the shoulders, chest heaving with the fright you had given them.

"what's wrong innie? why do you guys look like you've seen a ghost?"

"what's wrong? you tell us yn. why is all our furniture completely rearranged?"

for the first time your eyes land on the living room, and you gulp.

shit. you forgot to clean up.

"there was a bee. I was trying to kill it."

"what?"

it sounds ridiculous even to your own ears, but it's the best excuse you have.

"yeah. that's why the windows are closed. it got in somehow and I lost it. I was just trying to search for it." you shrug.

"what about the pepper spray?"

"I couldn't find the bug repellent."

the excuses come to you naturally.

"yn please-"

"it's not that big of a deal, oppa" you cut chan off, defensively crossing your arms. "you know I hate bugs. that's all there is to this. now will you please let me go back to sleep?"

you don't wait for their reply, shutting the door and locking it, leaving your members half confused and half exasperated. you were lying to them.

"please tell me none of you believed her." hyunjin whispers into the silence of the afternoon, taking care that you don't overhear them.

"something's definitely wrong," han agrees, his foot bouncing unconsciously against the carpet. "she's hiding something."

"but what?"

the million dollar question. what were you hiding? was it really a stalker?

"should we tell the managers about it now?"

"I think we should," lee know adds, looking at the others for confirmation.

"don't you think she'll be angry? she doesn't like people meddling with her business. you know how defensive she gets."

all of them turn to chan. in the end, it would be his say.

"I think we should try figuring out the reason first ourselves."

"but-"

"a motion detector and CCTV camera might work. hidden from sight, of course. it would alert us."

changbin hums, agreeing with their leader. "We could give it a try. It's better than nothing."

and so the plan is set. felix makes an excuse of buying parts for his PC and brings home the camera and motion detector. when you go to shower the next morning, the device is expertly concealed and motion detectors set in place.

chan insists you stay back that day too, going on for a long time about something related to your health and dark circles and what not. you agree reluctantly, and they don't fail to notice it. you didn't want to be alone. that was something.

"don't worry ynnie," jeongin reassures you as he ties his shoe lace while the others wait for him at the entrance. "the company is only 5 minutes away, we wont be far."

"are we just going to wait around here with nothing to do?" lee know asks, leaning back into the couch in their dance room.

"we don't have another option."

and so they do exactly that - wait. but it's not for long.

fifteen minutes into their boredom the first alarm goes off. the motion detectors had been triggered and the bell rings from chan's phone - where the control system had been set up.

"quick, check the camera!"

all eight of them huddle around chan's screen, watching intently at the familiar sight of their living room, eyes scanning for any sign of someone trying to break in.

but it's only you. you're pacing the living room, hands wringing by your side as you keep looking over your shoulder, flinching every time a paper rustles or the curtains move from the wind.

"what's wrong with her?"

felix furrows his brows, looking at the controls on chan's screen to make sure that the motion detector outside their front hasn't been activated. that meant nobody was trying to break in.

"she seems terrified."

"call her."

seungmin wastes no time in dialing your contact, and they watch in unison as you very nearly jump out of your skin when your phone goes off, a hand going to clutch your chest as you collapse into the couch.

"hello?"

your voice sounds normal. they wouldn't have suspected anything if they couldn't see your leg anxiously bouncing.

"is everything okay there?" seungmin asks carefully. he can't giveaway that they're secretly keeping an eye on you.

"uh yeah- yeah sure. everything is fine. why?"

"no reason. I was just taking a break."

"oh."

"alright stay safe. We'll be back in a while."

Seungmin is just about to hang up when you stop him.

"wait!"

for the first time a hysterical note seeps into your voice.

"yes?"

he's met with silence as they notice you pondering over something through the camera.

"yn?"

"nevermind. it's nothing. don't overwork yourself."

chan sighs deeply as he listens to you over the speaker, his fingers tightly gripping the edges of his phone.

you mutter your bye, and they watch you get up, carefully placing your phone on the table.

and then you do what they had been waiting for.

pushing your weight against the couch, you move it directly towards the wall, leaving no gap in between.

another alarm goes off on chan's phone.

then you angle it a bit, the same way they had found it the day before, such that you have a clear view of all entrances to the dorm.

all this while anxiously looking over your shoulder, once even jumping a bit as your foot got stuck on a fold in the carpet. your movements are tense, screaming with urgency, and it's the breaking point for them.

"that's it. we're going back," changbin huffs as he stands up, the other following behind quickly. chan maintains his concentration on the screen.

"she's turning on the t.v," chan informs, slinging his laptop bag over his shoulder and following them out of the building.

the ride back is silent. if their manager picks up on the strange atmosphere he doesn't mention it, and they're grateful to that. lying to their manager would be worse than hiding this from him.

it's only a five minutes drive, but it feels like eternity. when they finally enter the building, running up the stairs, it's eerie how peaceful their apartment looks from the out.

"do we knock or?"

"no. it might scare her."

seungmin pulls out the key from his pocket, trying to be as soft as possible as he unlocks the door, not wanting to startle you with any sudden noise.

"yn?"

chan quickly turns off his phone, stepping through the threshold.

you're sitting exactly where they saw you, some show mindlessly playing on the t.v. your eyes lock in on them as you scramble up.

"you guys are early. it's barely been half an hour."

should they tell you truth? confront you? try to coax it out of you? be subtle about it?

"guys?"

they snap out of their trance, their voices immediately breaking the silence of the dorm.

"yeah! we didn't want to leave you by yourself for long."

"oh."

you take your place on the couch, and raise a brow as they all settle themselves around you too. they don't change or wash up or anything. they just silently occupy any empty space they can find.

it's strange.

"are you guys ok?" you voice, turning off the t.v to look at felix who's sitting beside you.

silence.

they all exchange glances. someone has to bring it up.

"are you okay?" hyunjin finally asks, turning his body to face yours.

"what?"

"yn, please. just answer him."

"no no what do you mean hyune?"

you voice is an octave higher, hands digging into the leather cushion of their couch.

"yn," chan tries to pacify. they hadn't expected this to escalate over a simple question.

"what? why are all of you looking at me like that? i'm fine there's nothing wrong with me."

"yn-"

"stop interfering in things that aren't your business!" you finally snap, cutting felix off as you stand up, turning to face them. "this is none of your business so keep out of it!"

you're breathing heavily and a beat passes in silence.

"yn, what's wrong love?"

chan carefully gets up to put an arm over your shoulder, gently pulling you down to sit. you're trembling and barely half a minute passes before you crumble into chan's shoulder - suddenly - sobs punctuating the silence of the afternoon.

"i'm sorry," you manage between gasps. "i'm so sorry."

even chan look alarmed as he hurriedly tries to calm you down.

"there's nothing to be sorry about, ynnie. please talk to us."

but you can barely talk. you're all but wailing as the other seven huddle around you, their reassurances mixing together.

"i lied. i've been a terrible friend, snapping at you all the time. i'm so sorry it's all my fault."

"yn-"

"nothing is okay. everything is a mess and i don't know what to do."

the leader gently coaxes your face out from where it's nestled in his neck, and rubs a thumb below your waterline, collecting the salt streams streaking down your face.

"ynnie. please calm down, yeah? we want to help. tell us what's wrong."

"i'm- i'm messed up, chan. that's what is wrong."

"don't say that! it's not true."

you break down into another torment of sobs, and they hurry to calm you down.

"it's my head. it's messing with me. something is wrong. i just-," you voice breaks as chan leans to plant a soft kiss against your temple. "-i just don't know what."

"what do you mean?" hyunjin asks softly.

you take your time, elaborating through sobs and broken gasps about your suspected condition. if you had thought they would judge you, you were completely wrong. they listen attentively, comforting you through it.

"i don't want to, but i can't help it," you whisper, leaning into chan's touch. "my brain convinces me that there's always someone hiding just beyond my sight. everytime i speak to someone i'm wired into believing they'll use that information against me somehow, or they'll try to harm me. public events are a nightmare. i don't remember the last time i've been to an award show and felt alright."

"oh yn."

han all but pounces on you and chan, ruffling your hair as hiccups wrack through your figure.

they've never seen you like this. they've never seen anyone like this, in fact.

"it's so loud in my head. it started off small, i didn't even notice when i began thinking or feeling this way. but it just got worse and worse to the point where i've been an absolute pain to all of you - snapping at you, lying to you, fighting with you. i just- i don't know what to do anymore."

"hey hey, listen to me, yeah? this is not your fault. and you haven't been a pain. don't ever think that again," chan reminds you, coaxing you to face him, heart breaking a little at the tears streaking your face.

"but-"

"nope. nuh-uh. no blaming this on yourself."

you chin wobbles as you try to control a fresh onslaught of sobs.

all of them are so understanding you don't even know if you're crying from all the love or the confrontation.

"we'll help you through this, yn. we promise. you don't have to suffer through this alone."

"you don't have to do this. you're all already so busy and-"

"your mental health is a lot more important to us than anything else," felix interjects flatly, rubbing a soothing hand over your back.

"yeah! you've been hiding this for so long and we just want to help you feel better again! no matter what it takes."

you flash a grateful smile to changbin through the tears, earning an encouraging grin from him.

"you're all too nice for your own good. thank you."

"don't worry you can repay us by letting me jump scare you!"

"yah hyunjin do you want to be stuffed into the air fryer?"

it didn't take a genius to figure out who the comment came from as you giggled softly.

it's going to be okay, you think. you know your boys will help you through it, and that itself was the first step of your recovery.

you'll be fine.

©lixie-phoria, 2024

400 notes · View notes

cheollipop · 6 months

Text

☂˚.⋆｡ 𝙨𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣 𝙥𝙞𝙚𝙨

navi | taglist | part of svthub's fall-ing collab

pairing: lee seokmin x afab!reader

w.c.: 5.0k

genre: smut, fluff, established relationship, apple picking and pie baking and some sweet lovemaking <3

a lovers’ retreat—golden rays cast shadows over high, blushing cheekbones, flour-kissed noses and eye smiles as warm as the oven’s embrace, secrets and tender kisses shared with the starry night, and in a wooden cabin fragrant with the aroma of cinnamon and caramel, the love shared was sweeter than the finest apple pie.

☂ warnings: food/eating mentioned, unprotected sex (👎), creampie, praise, edging, some begging, some cockwarming, overstimulation (m), multiple orgasms (f), nicknames (min; baby, babe, love), some aftercare, seokmin is so fucking whipped (so is reader), there's so much love talk in this, I hate myself.

☂ A/N: nobody come for my inconsistent pie recipe, I didn't use one (also idc if you don't knead the dough, i needed it to describe seokmin's bulging muscles tyvm). other than that, this fic means a lot to me and despite struggling for the most part, I really enjoyed writing it. happy reading! :]

nsfw under the cut—minors dni 🔞

Slender fingers rounded the hanging fruit, examining for imperfections with eager eyes and the tip of a tongue held between pearly whites. The crisp air contrasted the solacing warmth of the morning sun under which you basked, strolling between green leaves and bright reds with a near-empty basket dangling at your side. You wanted him to work faster, to disregard whatever negligible bumps lay on the apples’ exterior, but you opted to remain silent, simply watching him from the sidelines while he carried on with his meticulous inspections.

Seokmin was spring. Smiles that could bring a barren land to life, vivid flora and singing birds fluttering around within the glimmers decorating his irises. But spring had long since ended, now treading deeper into the cooling weather of autumn, and yet, Seokmin still offered verve to everything he touched. Even as green turned to yellow then amber, and tanned skin rested beneath thick layers of cashmere and fleece, he still wore his spring smile—a reminder that the season of life will come again. He carried warmth wherever he went, and the biting chill attempting to penetrate thick layers of clothing stood no chance while his towering figure remained by your side.

You watched him throw the fallen end of his scarf over his shoulder, a woven cream he’d worn on your first date. Hoary yarn ends peeked out along its length, and you reminisced the store tag he’d forgotten to remove while he fiddled with his fingers and laughed anxiously before you all those years ago, so young and eager to impress. You’d mused over the giggles shaking his tense shoulders, the pretty pink painting his face and ears when you failed to rip it off in a discreet manner, and though the embarrassment was debilitating in the moment, the worry weighing down on Seokmin’s shoulders faded away as you laughed. It was well into winter when you’d walked alongside the river, steaming cups of hot chocolate resting between your palms—going cold before you had the chance to sip on them, only there to fight off the bleak midwinter breeze numbing your appendages. Young and dumb, you both were, walking by the river on a chilly day, but young and dumb brought upon you years of easy smiles and hearty laughs, unconditional love and unending happiness, all sprouting from sharing arbitrary details about yourselves with that same cream scarf draped around you both.

Dark locks now dyed the colour of changing leaves, the morning rays casting their golden hue over the wavy strands and reflecting off the specs perched over his nose bridge. Seokmin was a few inches taller now, and his shoulders broader, but the smile he wore, the sparkle in his eyes as he laid them on you were no different than those from that day by the river.

Chatter at your side dragged your attention off Seokmin’s profile and onto the family walking past you—two curious children and their parents inspecting the ripe fruit hanging before them. Scripts of late-night conversations you’d had with Seokmin flooded your mind, your face flushing and butterflies swarming your lower belly at the thought of starting a family with the man. Seokmin's fascination with learning how to braid your hair, his whispered comment—’for the future’—did not go unnoticed as he brushed gentle fingers through the stands he’d tangled in his attempts, a hint of a promise in his tone. He also promised to never leave them alone with Hoshi, which you appreciated. For obvious reasons. You were still young, and had much to experience together before taking a step that significant, but part of you was ready to offer Seokmin the world. A man who’d brought nothing bliss and warmth into your life, how could you not?

Turning your head back to the man in question, your eyebrows raised as you watched him eying the passing family alongside you, and you wondered whether the same thoughts were running through his head as well. But then his attention shifted back to you, and the amiable smile while he took you in told you everything you needed to know.

The curve of his lips persisted as he reached a hand to push the stray strands blown by the chilling breeze off your face, pinching the fat of your cheeks between his pointer and thumb before dropping them back to his side. A gentle gesture, but it lit your insides on fire, blinking quickly as you processed an action so natural to him, yet one that set you ablaze. Swallowing nervously, you redirected your gaze to the three apples resting over Seokmin’s palms as he presented the flawless, shiny Honeycrisps with a proud grin.

You giggled, “those look great, Min.”

“Only the best for you,” he leaned forward to plant a kiss onto the cheek he’d just pinched.

Flustered, you watched him throw the apples into the basket you held, his fingers brushing against yours as he swiftly pulled it out of your hand and carried on walking through the orchard. You might have missed a few additions to the small pile while you pondered about a lifetime by Seokmin’s side, and yes, the basket was significantly more weighed down now that he did. But it wasn’t that heavy.

You skipped a few steps to catch up with him, your bottom lip jutting out in protest. “Min. I can carry it myself.”

“Mm, I know,” he hummed, eyes trained on the novel batch of apples swinging gently at his eye level. “Don’t want you to, though.”

You pushed away the fondness warming your chest, capturing his coat’s sleeve between two fingers as you sulked at his side, his attention still set on those damn apples. He moved the basket to his other hand absentmindedly, allowing you more space to come closer to his side, his free arm wrapping around your waist, and head twisting to look over your moping features with tender adoration gracing his own. Leaning down, he pressed soft lips to your forehead, their warmth seeping into your skin and fluttering your eyelids shut.

Placing another one at your temple, playfulness mingled in his tone as he spoke, “Stop complaining, you’re not getting it back.”

And this time, all you could do was laugh.

The hours hurried by while Seokmin’s endless chatter kept you company, and perhaps you wish it hadn’t, wanting to treasure each passing second you shared in the presence of the man with the unwavering smile. You walked between the endless trees with leisure steps, the fingers entangled with yours occasionally dragging you with them to inspect the gradient of red and green. Some apples made the cut, thrown into the pile of spotless fruit he’d gathered over the past few hours, while others remained swaying with the gentle breeze, bruised exterior reflecting the golden rays.

A particular shade of green caught Seokmin’s eye, leaving your hand behind at your side to wrap slender fingers around the glossy circumference, rotating it gently to inspect it, going as far as leaning forward to get a closer look. Nodding to himself, he snapped its stem off and placed the weighted basket down, wrapping the apple in his cream scarf to give it a good wipe. You felt yourself salivate at the satisfying crunch sounding as Seokmin’s teeth breached the unblemished skin, and you watched the pucker of his lips as he chewed with wide, expecting eyes. A breathy chuckle contained within tightly pursed lips echoed in the back of his throat upon viewing the anticipation etched into your expression, and he moved the unbitten side towards your already-parted lips. Too focused on the apple nearing your waiting mouth, you’d missed the sly smile, the giggle he’d nearly failed at suppressing, and bit into the polished green.

A stream of its juice slipped past to flow down your chin, bitterness overwhelming your tastebuds and forcing your eyes firmly shut. A shiver ran down your spine as you struggled to chew on the unripe fruit, tears prickling in your eyes as you willed them open to glare at the man before you, hints of guilt mixed in with amusement on his face. Underneath all the kind smiles and caring gestures, Seokmin loved being an asshole.

He’d watched you persist and push through finishing the bite, too many people around now to spit it out. He even leaned forward to kiss away the tangy juice cooling over your skin, scrunching his nose at the sourness he’d willingly stolen another taste of. At least he was aware enough to take a step back once you’d swallowed the unpleasant bite down, what you thought was fear flashing across his features.

“Hey,” he put his hand up in defence before you could speak, “we share everything, right?” He took another step backward while giggling anxiously, and he nearly tripped over the apple-full basket he had resting over the soft grass. “Why should I make an exception for fruit?”

“Bad fruit,” you corrected, an eyebrow raised.

“Babe,” he started, but didn’t know how to continue, perhaps hoping the sparkling brown of his irises would do the trick.

And it almost did, you admit. But the bitterness lingered over your tongue, and Seokmin found himself scurrying away and out of the fire zone of the incoming apples you’d launched at him, laughing while you entertained the couples and children harvesting their own fruit with your lively act of revenge.

You smoothed your hands down the fresh set of clothes you’d thrown on, the fleece warm against your skin. The ligneous scent of your rented cabin added to its coziness, gentle winds blowing against closed windows and floorboards creaking with every socked footstep guiding you to the small kitchen.

Said footsteps quickened upon spotting bright green reflecting off the sharp metal of the very large knife in Seokmin’s hand, eyebrows furrowed as he focused on dividing the apple into even crescents. The hurried shuffling drew his attention, twisting his head just as you reached for the sharp tool, gently untangling his fingers off its handle to set it down over the cutting board alongside the botched fruit.

“Baby?” Tilting his head to the side, he stared at you in confusion.

You held both his hands in yours, flat over your palms as you inspected the tanned skin. Running your thumbs over polished nailbeds, you followed the protruding veins lining his slender fingers, all the way down each knuckle until you’d made sure he was unharmed. You enclosed his fingers within your palm, bringing them up to press your lips against, finding his pointer to plant an especially tender kiss over the scar stretching across its side.

“I was being careful,” he spoke through a melodramatic pout.

You smiled. “I know you were, Min. But let me handle the chopping this time, okay?”

Averting his eyes to the side, pretending to focus on the yellowing trees past the windowpane, Seokmin nodded, his hands limp in your hold. You lowered them to his side to cradle his jaw, tilting his head down to meet your eyes once again and staring him down in hopes of breaking his composure, but Seokmin’s pout persisted. And so the kisses began, soft and delicate over his cheekbones, forcing his eyes shut as you trailed your lips over the trembling skin. Leaning your head back, you watched his evident struggle against a betraying smile, finally curling the corners of his mouth when you’d dragged his head down with a forceful kiss to his cheek, the skin stretching under your lips while you kept them pressed there for a few more seconds. You moved away with an audible smack, Seokmin’s pout nowhere to be seen as he stared down at you with an uncontainable smile.

“Why don’t you make the dough instead?”

You picked up where Seokmin left off—half an apple chopped sloppily, which you ended up munching on while you worked—going through the washed apples to pick out the greenest, cutting them into even pieces and throwing them in a bowl of cinnamon and sugar. You remembered the nutmeg later on, after the frustrated noise at your side caught your attention, confusion raising your eyebrow when you’d noticed the powdery dough Seokmin was working with. He’d forgotten the eggs. The embarrassment on his face was adorable, rose-tinted cheeks and restrained smile while watching you crack an egg into the crumbly mess he’d been working on for a shameful amount of time. A quick kiss to his jaw and a whispered ‘it’s okay, Min’ seemed to do the trick, though.

Tossing the last of the apples into the seasoning bowl, you sprinkled nutmeg over the shimmering crescents before grabbing a clean spoon from the dishrack, the spices’ aroma wafting in the air around you as you mixed them in with the fruit. Glancing over at Seokmin, you realised he’d begun kneading the dough, flour dusted over the marble counter as he rolled the raw crust in on itself, and as you took in the hard muscle bulging against the sleeve of his t-shirt, your fingers unconsciously loosened around the spoon you held. Your eyes wandered over flexing biceps and defined, broad shoulders, veins protruding from tan skin as he worked the dough under his palm. Bottom lip tucked between a set of pearly whites, his eyebrows furrowed occasionally while the ball gradually smoothened in his hands, growing less crumbly and eventually forming a near-perfect sphere.

Absentmindedly tumbling the apples with a limp grip around the spoon, you followed Seokmin’s movements, lower belly fluttering with every faint, airy grunt sounding in the back of his throat as he worked the dough. Your thoughts strayed as you eyed the distracting flex of his muscles—the smile he wore, so sweet and tender, contrasted broad shoulders and the strength to manhandle you without much thought. You were almost certain Seokmin had no awareness of the fact, going about what he was doing without much regard to the blushing mess he’d left behind, the butterflies violently thrashing around within your stomach. The sparkling orbs with which he gazed at you, with charming innocence, oblivious to the effect he had on you. Perhaps that was for the best; you weren’t sure you’d want to find out what would become of him should he learn of the hidden power he’d been holding this entire time.

Sudden eye contact dragged you out of your daydreams when the man before you turned in your direction, the smooth doughball resting over his palm, and a proud smile on his lips. You held back the one threatening to break out on yours when you’d spotted the white dusting the pointy tip of his nose, some lightly powdering his cheeks as well. Instead, your chest warmed at his wordless flaunting as he slowly moved the undented dough towards you, sparkling eyes fishing for praise. And sure, you basically made the dough for him, and yes, all he did was mix the ingredients together with firm, hard-earned muscle, but the slight falter in his smile the longer you remained silent was enough to sway you.

“It looks great, Min!” You stepped closer, inspecting the roundness with wide eyes for a few seconds before straightening up to meet his eyes, “I’m proud of you, my love.”

Though a simple gesture, Seokmin’s face lit up, all but hurling the dough onto the counter to pull you into his arms, grinning into your shoulder while he squeezed your laughing frame closer to his chest. His arms still around you, he pulled away slightly, stars dancing in his eyes as he gazed at you gleefully, smiling against your lips as you got onto your tiptoes to kiss him lightly. But that didn’t satisfy Seokmin, his arm wrapping across your back to pull you back into him, locking his lips with yours once again, this time with hunger and hints of desire laced into the action. He kissed you once, twice, until he’d had a taste and realized he’d never have enough, needing sweetness and plush lips to forever bless his senses. While you held on to his biceps for balance, Seokmin was everywhere—hands up your back, over your arms and waist, and suddenly he was kissing you harder, deeper, tongue swiping across your bottom lip and teeth digging into it with a fervent want that sent waves of heat soaring through your body.

Pulling away for air, your chests heaved in unison, flush against one another as Seokmin peered down at you with hooded eyes, a spark of lust igniting the dark irises. And suddenly you were back in the present, the forgotten apples browning in their bowl, and the dough witnessing the heated exchange from its place on the counter.

“T-the pie!” you quickly diverted, pushing Seokmin away to shift your focus back to the task at hand, but you could feel his eyes boring into the back of your skull. “Can you preheat the oven please?”

An amused laugh sounded behind you at the shakiness of your voice, “yes, boss.” Just as you were about to sigh in relief, you heard him take a step towards you, his chest bumping into your shoulder and a gentle whisper blowing against the shell of your ear. “You have flour all over your face, by the way.”

And your pants, you thought, as his palm landed a playful slap onto your ass before he made his way to the other side of the kitchen.

The heat coursing through you dwindled as you fixated on the unfinished pie, save for those resulting from the not-so-hidden glances you’d stolen of Seokmin’s defined biceps as he moved the rolling pin over the dough. It was smooth sailing after that, though, missing the heart eyes directed at you as you spooned the filling into the rolled-out crust, perfectly fitted into the baking mould. You attempted to control your expressions as Seokmin tried and failed to cut straight lines out of the leftover dough, begrudgingly allowing him to place the uneven lattice in a questionable pattern, the chipper smile stretching his lips while he worked more than enough to excuse an ugly pie.

Carrying the raw pie over his head like Simba, Seokmin made his way to the oven. You held the door open for him, eyes following the baking mould as he transferred it onto the rack, gasping when his finger met the scorching metal. He placed the pie down and pretended nothing happened, ignoring the forming mark on his knuckle as he swung the oven door shut. And despite the whining and attempts of reassurance, you dragged Seokmin to the sink and ran cold water over his hand, once again kissing his pout away while you stood with barely any space separating your bodies.

His free hand slid across the small of your back, his other leaving its place under the running water to shut it off, wiping the droplets over his sweats before holding onto your hip. Leaning down, he met your lips once more, then again, until short pecks deepened, and a sharp nose nuzzled into the side of yours as he pulled you further into his body.

You pulled away with a gasp, startling Seokmin away from your lips, “the sweet potatoes!”

The initial shock replaced by softening eyes and a breathy laugh, Seokmin squeezed your waist once before releasing you. He stood to the side while you wrapped foil around the sangria exterior, offering to put them in the oven for you, but backing down at the disapproving glare you threw at him. Perhaps Seokmin had unintentionally caused a case of Pavlovian conditioning, one you remained unaware of, because the very second his bottom lip jutted out, yours were pressing consoling kisses over its plushness. Sometimes it took a few tries, but that’s only because you enjoyed watching the man—broad shoulders and all—sulk and whine when he didn’t get his way, only to lighten up and grin once your lips met his. It’s unclear who the winner was in this game, both parties working with a motive and ending with a satisfying result. Peculiar, really.

You settled down on the creaky floorboards across from the oven, your back to Seokmin’s chest and his thighs on either side of yours. His arms rested comfortably around your waist, hands limp at your hips, occasionally squeezing at the clothed flesh. Watching the pie crust brown through the glass, you basked in the cosy aroma circulating the cabin, the heat emanating from Seokmin’s body gentler and more comforting than that caramelising the sugar drizzled over the wonky lattice. Delicate fingers smoothed down your hair, and a silky voice lulled you to a tranquil state of comfort, strong arms holding you within the aura of warmth until a sharp click sounded, with the nostalgic scent of cinnamon and caramel to guide you out of slumber’s enticing grip, and back to toothy smiles and a cordial embrace.

The night’s breeze was crisp against slick skin, the warmth encased within the confines of the thick blankets now infiltrated through a window forgotten open. Seokmin noticed the raised goosebumps over your arms, and lowered his body until your chests laid flush, his forearms on either side of your head keeping his weight off your form.

“Cold?” he asked, lips pressing against your jaw and up to your cheekbone, over the frosty tip of your nose.

You shook your head, “not anymore,” and wrapped your arms around the soft skin of his waist.

Seokmin smiled, gentle features illuminated by the moonlight peeking through the cracked-open blinds—a cool-toned hue casting shadows over his face, moving as he pressed his pelvis closer to yours with an exhaled moan. Moving his weight over to one arm, he slid the other down to your core, splaying his palm out over your lower belly to thumb at your clit.

He’d been teasing you for so long—his cock filling you up the way you wanted, but only barely teasing your g-spot, refusing to move despite your repetitive whines; instead, he occasionally reached two slender fingers between your legs to relieve some of the arousal burning underneath your skin. This time, though, you’d reached your limit, clenching around him as a sudden high rushed through you, shaking your body within his hold.

Despite a day’s worth of lingering touches and heated kisses, a hand placed a little too low on your back, and eyes lit with unconcealed glints of want, the patience Seokmin exhibited as he guided you through your orgasm was not surprising. He’d always enjoyed giving—curling his fingers just right to take in the elegant arch of your back, your sweet taste on his tongue while he nuzzled his nose into your soaked pussy. But most of all, Seokmin savoured the tight squeeze around his cock as he fucked you through an orgasm, his breath heavy and eyes lidded with the pleasure your walls lavished upon him.

Slowly fading back into the present, you peered up at the man atop you, the column of his throat stretched as he took in the violent fluttering of your walls. But you wanted more, pent up and restless with his scent, his warm touch, occupying your every sense. And he still won’t move.

You rolled your hips experimentally, a startled hand rushing to stop you, fingers digging into the flesh to stifle the motion. “Please,” you whined, “Min, please move.”

Groaning at your tone, cock throbbing between your walls, “oh baby,” he breathed out, bumping his forehead with yours and allowing his eyelids to fall shut. “I’ve been thinking about having you like this all day. I wanna last for you, my love, ‘wanna make you feel so good.”

Arousal boiled in your lower belly, eyelashes fluttering and a shaky breath escaping your parted lips at the words whispered in the air between you. “Min-”

“Let me be good for you.”

A kiss to your temple and a few inhales were all it took Seokmin to regain his composure, his forehead still pressed to yours as he tugged you closer by the hips, languidly rolling his own into your heat. The leisure glide wasn’t much, but it sent a shiver through your body. It was as though Seokmin could read the wordless pleads sparkling in your eyes, pulling his face away just enough to adjust the angle before settling back down onto your body. Fingers tangled in your hair to keep your eyes on his, blinking in unison while you breathed the same air, gentle waves of pleasure drawing breathy moans out of the both of you, his cockhead brushing against your sweet spot every time he drove it inside your cunt.

Sliding a hand over his sweat-coated nape, you dragged Seokmin down to your lips, the sweetness of a pie forgotten outside enriching your tastebuds, the single remaining piece left over the picnic blanket alongside crumbled foil—the unintentionally discarded dessert serving as breakfast for the blackbirds to nip at when the morning came.

The hand lost in your hair found its way to your jaw, cradling your face while he devoured you, the kiss growing deeper the farther Seokmin sunk down the blazing pit of lust growing within him. His cock twitched erratically within you, pace picking up until the echo of skin-on-skin danced between the four walls, hips slamming against yours with fervour as his eagerness finally won over him. Unable to focus on anything but the mind-numbing heaviness of his cock pounding into you, your lips parted to release a staccato of ah’s, his own relentless as they peppered wet, open-mouthed kisses all over your face.

“God, you’re perfect,” he grabbed your cheeks with the hand previously on your jaw, squishing them together to lay his lips onto the forced pout on yours, “all mine.”

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head at the repetitive abuse to your cunt, squelching obscenely every time Seokmin fucked his entire length inside. “All—hngh—all yours,” you repeated, exhaling a breath you’d been holding when sudden warmth spread through your abdomen.

“I—hah—‘m sorry,” he stuttered as his rhythm turned sloppy, shuddering when he finally came. Sheathing himself deep withing your heat, he fed ropes of translucent white into your womb while attempting to keep his eyes on you, long eyelashes fluttering while ecstasy flowed through his body. “Felt so good, I couldn’t…” he paused to lower his head, interrupted by a string of airy moans as the last, weak spurts of cum emptied out of his twitching cock. “I couldn’t help it,” he muttered.

The reassurance died on your tongue when the sensitive cock drew out halfway, only to slam back into you as though the arms bracketing your head didn’t continue to tremble with the continuing effects of his orgasm. Lifting his head back up to meet your gaze, he lowered his hand back down to play with your cunt, dipping down to feel around your stretched hole and back up to circle your clit with the slick he’d collected, a silent promise of “I’ll be good” glimmering in his lidded eyes while he watched you fall apart under his touch.

And he was, so good.

You tumbled over the edge unexpectedly, cockhead pounding into your cunt while he rolled your clit underneath his fingertips until your features contorted gracefully, fireworks exploding behind your eyelids as you shut them and tilted your head back to welcome a stupefying orgasm. You tensed for a moment, then began spasming uncontrollably in his arms, hips simultaneously jerking towards and away from his touch as he guided you through your high, languidly gliding his cock along your dripping, clenching walls, both hands now gripping the soft flesh of your hips.

And when the stimulation sent pangs of pain up your body, a whispered repetition of his name paired with limp tugs at his wrist finally broke Seokmin away from you and the bewitching melody he drew out of the perfect circle shaping your mouth. He slid his softening cock out of your heat to allow thick dollops of pearly cum to stream out of your pussy, watching as your hole clenched uselessly until your abashed whine dragged him out of his thoughts.

You found yourself tucked in under layers of thick blankets while running water sounded in the bathroom, bare feet padding over the floorboards until Seokmin—with his boxers on backwards—reached under the covers to blindly drag a warm washcloth over your skin, hoping it would catch all the sweat and cum without having to expose you to the chill air. You drew your lips into a straight line to avoid laughing at the concentration furrowing his eyebrows, cheeks flushing as he washed your middle. Any other day, Seokmin would make a big deal of cleaning you up properly, but you could see the hair on his arms raising, the autumn night’s chill piercing through his skin.

He didn’t even bother with returning the rag to its place, tossing it over his shoulder to dive under the cosy blankets with you, limbs tangling as soon as he made it there—arms circling your tired frame and legs pushing between and over yours. The momentary frigidity dissipating, his body heat seeped into your very being, and you inhaled the fresh scent of laundry mixed in with remaining hints of his cologne. Nuzzling the pointy tip of his nose into your hair, he planted a kiss onto your crown, the gesture faint as his steady heartbeat lulled you to much-needed slumber, the serene trip to dreamland occupied with solacing thoughts about a forever home within Seokmin’s tender embrace.

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hollyhomburg · 4 months

Text

Before I Leave You (Pt.66)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: Wolves always go for the throat, whether they’re cornered or hunting.

Tags: Blood, Guns, violence, near death experiences, everyone lives nobody dies...but someone does die this chapter, horror, non-lethal injury, talks of death and dying, a bit of body horror, Trans! tae, Tae is briefly dead named in this, implied/referenced intimate partner violence, flashbacks, brief suicidality.

W/c: 8.3k

A/N: ahhhhhh <3 we're finally ready for this part of the story <3 i wonder what your guys reactions will be, i'm really glad i decided to split this chapter into two peices! it's much cleaner this way. don't be 🥲 too mad at me.

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

(Four years prior, Hoseok)

Today is the day that Hoseok will meet his future pack, he just doesn’t know it yet.

It always feels like a bit of betrayal but the worst and best days of your life often come close together. Maybe just for contrast. A bit of good in the bad. A slice of cake in a feast of raw meat.

This starts as just another bad day in a long stretch of shitty days. The kind of days were anxiety bubbles up and how afraid you are is all you can think about. Taking one breath and then another like just staying alive means you're guaranteed to get better.

The only place to go from rock bottom is up, and hoseok's sneakers are firmly on the concrete, standing outside of the record store in the rain with no place to go.

Hoseok has been afraid for a long time. He can't really remember even if he thinks hard, the last morning he woke up not afraid.

What hoseok really needs is a day off, but he really can't fucking afford it. He can't afford anything- certainly not a one-bedroom apartment on his own. If he's really really lucky maybe he'll be able to find a closet room somewhere that will cost almost his whole paycheck. Because after today-

After today, Jung Hoseok will be homeless, packless, and alone. His pack dropped the news on him last night…or well ex-pack.

He doesn’t expect that he’ll be moving into the pack's house on this rainy day, he doesn't expect that by the end of the week, he won't be worrying about where his next meal will come from because Jin will be there with it ready. Jimin sometimes too.

He won't be worrying about where he'll sleep because the bed in their spare room that smells like tae tae tae will be his. He'll roll around in it when the door is closed, shy about it because Hoseok has never liked other alpha's scents so much before. And when he comes home and Jungkook has made a nest in it, it will feel like a bit of an impossible silver lining, a bit too much- to have an omega making him a nest, making something special just for him

It takes three weeks for Namjoon to make him a house key for himself. After he gets left outside in a very similar storm to this. The doctor will touch his cheek, thumbing at the dimples that they share. how special is it that each smile gets cradled like a crescent moon? the heavens have left imprints on both of their skin. Freckles for stars and dimples for moon's.

"I don't want you to get sick pup."

"People don't get sick from wet heads anymore hyung."

"They don't. But I want to keep you dry and comfortable in my den. i know you still want to look for apartments but...what if you didn't?"

But neither the weather nor Hoseok knows to prepare for good news. Right now the heavens open up and release its deluge, thick rain the way that only happens at the start of summer. Worms and other wriggly things crawl their way out of their holes to find a good spot to die next to Hoseok's shoes. Worn fancy sneakers that his pack-omega had gotten him a few months ago for their anniversary. They're the nicest thing he's ever owned.

His ex-pack omega.

It's hard to rewire your brain, especially for alpha's. Hoseok is a lone wolf. He hasn't been without a pack in so long, it feels weird to not have someone to call, someone he needs to trail after and cling to. He checks his phone but he doesn't have a single notification from them.

He doesn't have a single notification from anyone.

Hoseok is glad he doesn't feel his instincts as keenly as other alphas do. Otherwise, he might be inclined to gnash his teeth at the people who pass by him on their way to work, umbrellas almost bumping him, perceiving even closeness as a threat. So vulnerable without a pack (lone alphas are always the first to starve in winter).

Hoseok shivers even though its summer, he's soaked to the bone after a few minutes.

He has a key to the record store. He could go inside. Granted- he should be inside already. Opening up shop, making coffee, and letting the place warm up. But standing out in the rain feels too much like penance.

Hoseok likes the rain. The smell of it. The way it makes the whole world ache and go still. He feels every drop on his dark hair, soaking through his thin hoodie. It's cleansing almost, letting the rain soak him through.

(The end of relationships is always hard, let alone the end of abusive relationships, they’re downright terrible).

Hoseok keeps replaying their words in his head, with every slosh of a nearby car, every honk of a taxi. The stoplight red and green bleeding onto the wet concrete. Yellow flashing in contrast with hoseok's dark memories.

“You’re welcome to stay here until the lease runs out, but the four of us need to move back home. You understand Hobi don’t you? We’re just omega’s- we’re just girls- and we think this could be a clean break for all of us. We just don't want to lead you on any longer.”

The worst part is that Hobi had sort of known, had sort of already realized what was happening. he’d seen it in their looks; distant and despondent. Their touches that did not linger longer than necessary, cheeks turned as he comes in for a kiss. The phone calls hushed in the other room that cut off abruptly when he entered.

The lease on their apartment ends today. The place has already been professionally deep cleaned and Hoseok's things are packed in his car in plastic bins. He has 6 of them to his name.

He doesn’t have a place to go yet, he might just sneak into the back room at the record store and sleep there until he figures something out. Hoseok drove to work early because he didn't have another place to go.

This version of Hoseok is not the one you know, this version of Hobi is 23 and hopeless, can’t think about moving back in with his parents a city away, with nothing but a rusted-out Corolla that barely gets him to work let alone through the 200-mile trip. It will die on him in about 6 months and Namjoon will be thankful that Hoseok no longer is driving around in a deathtrap.

He hadn’t even gotten this job by himself, his pack omega- his ex-girlfriend had gotten him this job almost 4 months ago after his last one didn’t pan out. Temporary work for temporary people.

Nothing feels like his. Not his body and certainly not this job.

Hoseok hasn’t smoked in months, but something that feels an awful lot like self-disgust worms under his skin and he can’t resist. Not today of all days. Smoking is something that he doesn’t indulge in often, and hasn’t indulged in since… becoming an alpha to someone. But he guesses it doesn’t matter now without anyone to complain that they don’t like the smell.

The cigarette mixes with the smell of petrichor and Hoseok’s own acidic scent. The smell of a terrified alpha draws him more than a few looks but he pays them no mind. He's thankful for his soaking face, at least the rain keeps out the tears. Cool and soothing against his face.

Hoseok just wants- Hoseok just wants to call them. To talk to someone.

Ending relationships is always like this. You want to keep being good, keep being what they want, but that’s impossible. You can’t act or behave right and dupe someone into loving you. Sometimes the love just isn’t there. (A smaller shyer voice says it was never love at all, you can't possess love, only be given it and Hoseok feels like a cast aside possession. Love and abuse cannot coexist).

Hoseok should have known. He keeps replaying the moments in his head. He’d seen them exchanging knowing looks when they thought he wasn’t looking.He thought he was just being paranoid, until yesterday morning when they’d taken him aside.

“You knew this had to end one day Hoseok" "You knew one day we'd move on." "As much as we appreciate what you’ve done for us, we think it’s time for us to move on.”

“What do you mean? I thought we were leaving next week, you really left me with only a day to find a place to go?”

“We’re sorry Hoseok, your last rut was just too much to deal with. We think it's best if we just stay on our own. It's a clean break this way.”

"Wait, please- I love you."

"We know. We're sorry."

Hoseok is too much for anyone to deal with. He doesn’t call his friends (he hasn’t met up with any of them or returned their texts in months thanks to several pointed words from his pack omega). He doesn’t go inside yet because he deserves the rain. He sits out front of the record store, smoking a cigarette that will probably end up killing him down the line, and thinks Good.

He tells himself the irritation in his eyes is just because of the cigarette smoke blowing in his face, even though he knows it's not. He's not even inhaling right because his breaths come all hitched and pathetic. Anyone would be sad if their relationship of several years had ended. Anyone would be devastated.

Hoseok checks his phone again. Nothing.

Most people on the crowded street ignore him. Though the thick throng of people going about their business, probably going to work at their 9 to 5 jobs that pay enough to afford apartments and packmates. Hoseok is the one soul that stands stationary.

Until one, someone a few feet back stops, tipping their face through their hood to look at him. The only other person without an umbrella.

Hoseok knows his face and his name. It’s just Min Yoongi- his coworker and sort of friend who's coming in for his shift. Hoseok doesn't love Yoongi yet but they're sort of friends already. They might be better friends if Hoseok could get over his admiration and jealousy.

Yoongi has this way of quietly taking care of the people around him. He picks up Hoseok's jacket when it slides off the hook at work, asks him if he wants coffee and even pays for it when he goes to the coffee shop next door. He compliments Hoseok's music tastes when it's his turn to play something, he gives Hoseok the aux frequently in a way that feels a little bit like flirting.

The only two good things about Hoseok's job are the music and Min Yoongi.

He even laughs at Hoseok's shitty jokes when they're stacking new inventory saying cryptic things like "they can't be worse than my omega's jokes."

That's why Hoseok's jealous. Yoongi gets packmates, five of them who make him lunch even when he's only got a four-hour shift. that often linger outside to walk him home or pick him up in their shiney not new not old cars.

(Yoongi's packmates certainly have better things to do than send Yoongi to work with a second packed lunch. "Jin-hyung caught a glimpse of you through the doorway, the only thing that he hates more than Namjoon's snoring is skinny Alpha's.")

Min Yoongi has that look that people do when they're well-loved by packmates. Hair ruffled and neck dotted with bruises that might as well be mating bites for a beta. Beta's don't mate, but these ones certainly keep him close. He wears their scents like a shield. Sometimes so thick that Hoseok can't even smell any of his chocolate scent.

Right now, staring at Yoongi a few paces into the street, all Hoseok can smell is the rain.

When Hoseok had been introduced to him it had felt strange just by virtue of Yoongi's sub gender. A beta? Working somewhere so normal? Weren’t beta's supposed to be like- financial advisors or assistants to the president or something? Betas are supposed to have more important jobs than pushing vinyl and bumping Hoseok's shoulder playfully.

(Hoseok hasn’t seen it yet, the way that the owner hands over little white baggies to people who come in looking hungry for a high that cigarettes or alcohol can’t fix. Hoseok hasn’t yet realized that the record store isn't just a record store. This is just one front business of many that the family has organized across this city and the country for distribution of some of his most precious inventory). Yoongi has worked her for the last year, takes calls in the back for the family. The owner only bows to him when Hoseok's not around.

They only hired hoseok for tax purposes. Having three employees looks less suspicious than just two.

The beta looks concerned, and Hoseok knows he can’t hide the fact that he’s been crying as the beta steps up and pushes Hoseok back under the awning. Out of the rain and into the warmth of the doorway. This kind of movement would make any alpha snap, but not Hoseok. Hoseok just tucks his chin down and starts to cry.

“Oh Hoseok.” Hobi sniffles, and wipes his runny nose on his sleeve. Yoongi's hand curls against his throat, chocolate scent spiking to soothe. “You’re soaking wet."

Yoongi grabs his wrist and Hoseok almost keens at the gentle touch. Whole body shaking, shoulders curling in Yoongi's direction. Yoongi’s lips press into a thin line and then tugs him inside.

~-~

(Now, You)

You hold your breath. Still peering around the corner, watching and waiting for the man to spot you.

But he doesn't, after a breath where his soft footsteps echo, you wait, but nothing happens. You peak back around the corner.

You absorb and catalog the details as fast as you can; the black ski mask, covered by one of those traditional Korean masks, wooden with red lacquer. This one is a little different than the one that Jimin had; not twisted with thick eyebrows in a snarl. This one is white with red splotches on the cheeks, like a ghost sent down from above to rob you of your humanity.

The bulletproof vest stops at the collarbones. The gun itself is a black generic model. The long end is extra bulbous with something that might be an attached silencer. His hands covered in black nitrile gloves, leathery at first glance. There is a knife at his waist along with a barrage of other small things; rope and a knife, duct tape and handcuffs. His heavy boots look steel toed and reinforced.

The man (because it is a man you realize; tall, maybe taller than Namjoon) trains his gun at the landing on the top of the stairs. Pointing it in the direction of Hobi, Tae, and Jin’s hushed voices.

Hobi giggles and it sounds so bright. Echoing off the walls and filling the house with his musical laughter.

There is a phone cord tangled in your hands, long and white. You grip it tight.

This man might be silent but you’re quieter as you slide your bare feet across the smooth floors. Your strides are so quiet. You take one step and then another until you're behind the man, mirroring him.

You remember when Yoongi redid the floors, it was one of the few things that he did right away; before the pack came to live here (to love here). It took him weeks and weeks of sanding before he got them to his liking. Days more of brown dark stain that colored his hands ruddy until the soft matte finish stuck. Every pass with the belt sander and dirty rag a movement of love, a meditation for it.

Yoongi made every inch of this house with the same loving intent; to make it a home for all of you. a place to be safe and nurse your wounds and hearts. You won’t let it become a grave. You won’t let this person stay here and ruin it.

Most people get it wrong; In order to kill it is not a matter of elegance or effort. There is no such thing as a perfect kill either. Emotionless and analytic isn't enough and being justified only gets you halfway. There is no way to do it cleanly. People die just as they live, messy and hopeful and dirty.

Murder isn't a matter or wanting or wishing, It’s a matter of rage.

It’s always been this way. Rage has been chewing a hole through you from the moment that you pulled the trigger with Geumjae. From the moment you said ‘I do’. Rage that these violent things have been done to you, that they continue to happen, that you can’t just get away from all the hurt and trauma.

Rage has eaten you clean through to the bone. Rage has made you skinny and starving, rage has made you timid and fragile. But now you're the hungry one. Right now, only three words run through your head;

How dare she.

How dare she send this man into your house. How dare she point a gun at the upstairs, in the general direction of your nest and your packmates. The altar at which you so desperately cling to, for sweet dreams and sweeter worship (There is no deity above the god of love, not even death. Death cannot take the love from your chest, someone dying does not make you stop loving them).

How dare she even think about hurting the people you love.

There is no courage, no bravery, no thought in your head about how stupid it might be as you step closer behind the man. You are not a trained assassin. You’re just an omega.

The adrenaline rush is an old friend, a thrall both intoxicating and unnerving. Your heart beats loud in your ears. You grip the phone cord in your hands and take a quiet steadying breath. He doesn't see you, he doesn't hear you, he doesn't know that you're behind him.

Wolves always go for the throat, whether they’re cornered or hunting.

The assassin’s foot ascends the bottom step. You don’t let him get to the second before you’re moving, hurtling forward. Footsteps no longer light. Your hands go over the man’s shoulders. The cord no more than a white flash across his vision before you draw it tight across his neck.

The pain and panic are instant as you’re suddenly tethered to a six-foot-four assassin and struggling to stay on your feet as he stumbles back. You’re pulled off your feet and down the stairs, but you keep it as tight as you can and you don’t let go. Fighting to keep your makeshift garrote tight as he scrambles to get his fingers around where it digs into his skin. Spluttering loud.

The hard wire digs, cutting easily through plastic and then your skin as he tries to pull you off. You don’t let go until he backs you into the entryway wall and slams you against it with a dizzying clang of bone and body hitting something solid. Your head narrowly avoids one of the hooks that the pack hangs their coats on. An inch to the left and he'd have impaled your skull on it. An inch to the left and you'd be dead.

A single inch.

His head slams into your face, and you feel something in your nose pop, flooding your mouth with blood so thick you choke.

He slams you against the wall once, twice, and then a third time until your grip goes slack and slippery with blood. It knocks the breath out of you, and he finally throws you off. You both fall to the ground like stones. Both of you gasp and struggle for breath. At least one of your ribs it broken, but because of the adrenaline you can't even feel it.

When the man lifts his black gloves to his throat, they come away glossy with blood.

(It’s crazy how you never notice the change from the day to day, one day you are begging for a reason to hold on, a reason to live, and the next you’re fighting tooth and nail to keep going. Just about gnawing your own arm off to get out. To survive and live to see another day. Another sunrise.)

By that time the air has returned to your lungs it’s enough for you to scream. “Jin! Jin! There’s someone in the house there’s-”

You try and inhale through your nose and blood makes you choke. You push at the floor with your hands, struggling to stand, fingers slippery and tacky with your blood.

The man tries to scramble up the stairs but you latch onto his legs and make him drop. Doing everything in your power to keep him from going up to them, to your packmates. Hugging his ankle to your chest to slow him down (the same way you’ve hugged Namjoon’s arm and Yoongi’s, the way you held Hobi in the nest on the couch just a few shattered days ago).

The man turns the gun on you, pointing it to your head, you flinch, waiting for the shot-

and open them as He heaves a frustrated roar before he wheels away and turns, aiming at the top of the stairs instead of right in your face.

You could have died right then. could have and should have, but you didn’t. Your brain is too messy with adrenaline right now to make sense of it.

Why didn't he shoot?

The gun goes off, a bullet whizzing by Jin’s head. His face, scared, on the stairs flashes ever briefly. Ducking for cover just in time. The doorframe explodes in a cacophony of dark wood splitters. The doorknob sparks and bursts into a million pieces with another shot. metal clanking against the ceiling, the walls, down the stairs.

One second, you’re holding onto his heavy leather boot, and the next it’s colliding with your face and you’re out like a light.

Getting hit in your face is always such a disorientating experience. You’d never gotten used to it, even with Geumjae. Granted it’s hard to get used to the stomach-churning low vision feeling of weightlessness, like vertigo only worse.

"Hobi! don't- jesus fucking christ-"

You’re not quite sure what happens next only that you can’t see for a moment after the boot hits your face, and you take big breaths through your mouth. Blood, you taste blood. And then your vision comes back. Black spots and all and there’s Hobi’s face in front of you. No assassin, just him, helping you up from the floor. You're not on the steps anymore but at the bottom of them.

“The kitchen, the kitchen," Blood rushes over your bottom lip. Hoseok wipes it away, inhaling a jagged breath. "He’s-”

He pushes at your shoulders. “The car- get to the car.” It feels impossible. This can be happening in your house. Are you about to have a shoot-out in the street? On your quiet cul-de-sac? But then, in the corner of your vision dark movement.

You tug Hobi’s head down the second that the gun goes off- probably saving his life, definitely saving it as the bullet tears through the banister and ends in a hollow thump in the wall. he may not have shot you but he has no quams shooting at Jin and Hobi. The bullets hit the wall- Maybe 6 inches above your bent heads. Too close, close enough that Hobi trembles in your hold. And he rips something- a piece of the doorway, out of his arm with a wince before he covers your body with his own.

The volley of gunshots are so loud, so vicious as they blow things apart, tearing holes through Yoongi’s coat, the doorway, the banister, and the narrow stairway rungs. Pieces of wood hit your curled forms. Hobi shoves your head down when you try to look.

There is wetness, hot, something hot on your hands, your neck, you know it’s blood before you look. You think it’s from you until the Gunsmoke clears and you realize- fingers skimming across hoseok's forehead, a gash above his eyebrow.

A bullet graze by his hairline thats bleeding profusely. head wounds always bleed a ridiculous amount.

There are more bullets behind you but it’s just Jin returning fire.

Jin’s got Tae behind him. Her face ashy and pink from the shower and panic, her mid-length dark hair such a tangle, cowering behind his back. Jin's gun is so much louder without the silencer. Did he bring one upstairs? Or did he get it from Jimin’s stash?

Jin nearly drags Tae to the three of you, and she clings to you. Your hand finds her face. Fingers are red and bloody smudging against her cheek, blink and you're back there a million moments in the past; dotting red blush across her cheeks with a brush- your fingers- kissing it into place with your lips- painting a line of maroon across her eyelids to bring out the lighter flecks in her eyes- Watching her twirl in a red dress. Pressing your red lips against hers in a quiet dark moment in the library room. With her in Hobi's red car- Everything red.

If it starts with red, maybe it's fitting that it ends in red too.

Jin doesn’t give you time to reminisce. Pushing her shoulder down hard. His bare chest splattered with splinters from the door. Covered in wood fragments that stick to his black sweatpants and damp feet. Shouting, “All of you get down!”

You follow your pack omega’s words. Hobi and Tae With their damn alpha instincts blanket you as Jin fires again. The shots are so much louder in the small space. Another shot, another thunder strike. tae grips your wrist tight, your hands.

When you look down, they look mutilated. you can see bone in one place, deep gashes across the centre of your palms.

Your ears ring and you can't make sense of anything over the noise. Jin returns every bang with a boom of his own, bright flashes lighting up the dark staircase. Casing after casing tinkling down to the floor, rolling across the floorboards

But then, for a second- the gunfire goes quiet.

The house creeks and the three of you hold your breath. Jin's still half-concealed. The air heavy and clouded with gunsmoke and the smell of blood.

Hobi tentatively gets onto his knees and then stands when he doesn't immediately get shot at. You make a small noise in your throat, the loudest that you dare, but he’s looking after Jin, standing in the darkness, hackles raising his angry scent of burning sugar acrid in your nose. His hand slides out of yours, your blood on his palms.

And then you hear the rush of boots, echoing in the living room, near your nest- you’d never unmade it after you and Hobi fucked there. You'd been too busy taking care of Jimin. Hoseok bears his teeth.

Hobi turns, sliding out of your hands quicker than you can grab him. Quicker than you can tell him that he’s being dumb, that he’s being suicidal.

“Not my girlfriend! You asshole!”

The world is a dizzying cacophony of gunpowder, pain, bullets, and shouting. Jin yells Hoseok’s name. But the alpha heads after the assassin regardless of your cries. Jin narrowly keeps him from running headlong into no mans land. the open area by the door that would leave Hoseok a sitting duck.

Tae’s standing up on unsteady legs as you all spill out of the stairs into the narrow hall. Out from her hiding place cowering behind the banister. Your attention isn’t on her it’s on Hobi. Neither you nor Jin are looking at her. You’re running after him on shaky legs. Jin holds you both back, trying to corrall you. The air is cloudy with Gunsmoke, hazy and heavy. Her eyes are wide and pretty like dark marbles as she watches Hobi.

They’re just as pretty when the gun presses to the back of her head.

Everyone turns and goes still. The man has Tae in his arms, hand in her hair making her neck arch. The gun pressed to her jaw. Finger on the trigger.

Her body trembles and she doesn’t turn, frozen still in fear a shallow whine building in her throat.Jin has the gun trained on the man faster than you can make to step in Tae’s direction. But it’s no use.

He must have gone around, run through the livingroom through your pantry. A similar path that you took to surprise him. He must know the floor plan of the house, must have studied it to prevent situations like this. You have no upper hand here with tae in his arms.

Tae’s mouth is buttony and parted, but it settles into a resigned line.

Jin’s never been a good enough shot- not for one like this, even barely 10 feet away. He might hit Tae. Shaky, Jin takes his finger off the trigger and stoops down to put the gun on the floor. His other hand is up, already surrendering when the man jerks Tae's head back by her hair. Rougher than he needs to be.

“Don’t shoot her, please don’t shoot- please.”

The man juts his chin at the gun on the floor. “Kick it away now, be a good omega.” Jin grits his teeth but does as he says.

The man’s voice is rough as gravel. Dignified, but with no obvious accent. Not the quiet cadence that you’ve come to expect from the family. Neither posh nor lowbrow. Something in between. Flat and monotone. You're sure that you've never heard his voice before.

“I have to admit, your file said you’d be resistant, but it said nothing about you being dumb as fuck and a poor shot to boot.”

Jin licks his lips and bares his teeth, “Put that gun back in my hand and then say it again.” The masked man cocks his head to the side and then shrugs as if Jin's fury doesn't mean anything to him.

But He’s bleeding, it trails down to the floor so the words can't be genuine. It's a small wound, a graze on his right thigh. Red bright and hot that drips in onto the floor from his pant leg.

His hand tightens in Tae’s hair. “Line up against the wall. Now. Or I’ll blow her brains out in front of you."

You move first, eyes trained on Tae. But he snaps, eyes unreadable behind that mask, “No- not you. I’m not here to kill you.”

He tosses something to Jin and he catches it. Handcuffs that jingle and clink. Your foot hits an errant bullet with a similar tinkle. “Handcuff Jin to the stairs Hoseok.”

Your names, he knows your names. Your mind races over every detail, every moment trying to piece together a way to get out of this. a way to save them.

“Why are you doing this?” Hobi’s trembling, shaking. “Did Jimin-”

“Jiminie did nothing.” The man croons dragging the barrel of the gun down Tae’s cheek leaving a dark smudge in its wake. It's red on her face, the barrel must still be hot, your blood crusty around her lips.

“Honestly though, you should know he was a shit assassin. Truly piss poor even by industry standards. They always threw him the easiest kills."

The three of you are quiet, if he was hoping to elicit a reaction or more of a fight You don’t give him the satisfaction. Although jin grits his teeth, gnashing anger and an omega's feral instinct to protect their pups.

You step forward hands open, barely two steps from Tae. If you can just get to her maybe you can-

“Please- please don’t kill them."

He cocks his head at you, and you can hear the grin in his voice. “Oh no, you misunderstand me I’m not going to do any of it.”

He taps Tae’s head once again with the gun and Tae starts to truly struggle. You tremble in fury and horror as you realize what he means with a sickening lurch in your stomach.

“This is how it’s going to work Y/n” You still at the sound of your name. “Taehyung here is going to shoot Jin and Hoseok. And then once we’re sure they’re good and dead, I’ll kill her.” He tosses you another pair of handcuffs, these ones are meant for you.

You take one step closer; Jin's gun is between your feet now. But you couldn't pick it up or else he'd shoot Tae. Time, you just need a minute to figure out what to do. How to get them out of this.

Yourself now, that's a different story. If you where in Tae's position you'd turn your face to the side and bite the mans hand.

“And what about me then? If they're all dead what’s to stop me from fighting?” he seems to consider it only briefly, the gun in his hand tilting so that you can see the dark oval where the bullet will come out, where it will rocket through Tae's skull and take all the little worlds she dreams of, all her poems and words and make them nothing.

“You think you're so precious? I’ll just kill you.” he says it like it's nothing. like you're nothing. He nods to the others, appealing to them and not you. “What do you want? All four of you to die? Or just three? What will hurt Namjoon the least? Do you think Yoongi will survive loosing his mate? What do you think Jinnie?”

You think of Yoongi's mating mark, the spot on his hip where your small curved semi-circles sit. You think of them turning black- a brand of a dead mate. You think of Hobi's eyes opening and never closing again. You think of Jungkook nesting without Jin and you. Of Namjoon holding out his hand and having no one to take it without Jin there.

You won't let any of this happen.

The others shoot each other unsure glances but you shake your head. you shake your head because earlier on the step, the man didn't take the easy shot, the easy kill.

If he really had orders to kill you, he would have done it then.

you step forward and shake your head. “I don’t believe you. I know your orders are to take me. That’s what all of this is about isn’t it?” The man doesn’t drop his weapon. Just presses it tighter to Tae’s jaw.

“Handcuff Jin now Hobi. Or else I’ll-”

You see the darkness settle in Jin’s eyes and before you know it he's turning to you, eyes flat. Endless in their darkness, the way they might if-

You don't let yourself consider it. You won't let it get to that point.

“Pup-”

You guess it does make sense, having you kill each other as opposed to the assassin doing the dirty work and implicating Moonbyul. If you really are on that ‘no kill list’ like Yoongi said at the hospital, having you take out each other is the only logical course of action. Once Tae kills Jin and Hobi, she'll be free game. This is the only way retribution won’t fall back on her. This is so similar to what she tried and failed to do with Jimin and Jin. This is a second attempt.

Only-

Only this time, you have a bargaining chip.

You step forward, in front of Hobi and Jin, blocking them from his line of sight. Barely a pace in front of Tae, but from the way he tightens his grip on her you know that you can go no further.

“You can take me; I’ll go with you. Willingly.”

Jin makes a noise in his throat and tries to move, but dares not when the man tightens his grip on Tae’s hair hard enough to rip a bit of it out.

“That’s what she wants, isn’t it? If you just let them live I’ll go with you.”

The man is silent for a second. Hobi trembles and so does Jin. For a second, you truly think that he’s going to take the bait.

But the mask is directed towards the floor, then back up at you. “Those aren’t my orders.” His finger is on the trigger so close to Tae’s head. “Now cuff him, I don’t want Jinnie getting any ideas.”

Hobi’s hands are shaking as he unwillingly shackles Jin to the steps as slowly as he can. He's buying time too. Every second and every heartbeat is precious. Both ends loop around a single rung and click closed. The rung itself is a little loose from a bullet that blew it apart near the bottom, it’s got to be the loosest one. Hobi turns, and you see the pre-meditation in his eyes; he chose that one so that Jin could still get free if he tried hard enough.

Everyone is trying. Everyone is defiant. The quirk of Jin's eyes as he settles, staring with rage at the man, his voice a quiet croon when he says what might very well be the last words he ever speaks.

“Tae you can close your eyes honey, it’s okay.”

"No I can't" She struggles harder against his hold, but it only gets her part of her hair pulled out with how rough the man jerks her, tears clouding her vision. "I can't- don't- please-"

Tae's soul has always been butterfly soft and flower tender. She's not made for this. She's not made for murder or pain or anything that lacks softness. She's never been a killer; Jimin was always that side of their coin. Saint and sinner.

Your body goes cold and for a second, you think you just might pass out, especially when Hoseok grips your wrist. One final squeeze in what can only be goodbye before he steps away and in front of jin. Hair puffed up. Jin is lowering his eyes and no no no.

No.

Tae is staring at you, eyes wide and scared, but you watch in total powerlessness as her eyebrows lower. You see the moment Tae thinks it. Eyes meeting yours, lips mouthing something that you can’t read. Maybe I’m sorry no.

I love you. Sorry.

The truth is that Jimin drilled this with her years ago before she left for college and he couldn’t follow. When Jimin first realized that for the first time in their lives she’d be without him as a constant protector. Delicate delicate Tae with her delicate pink soul. So vulnerable to the world and all its wickedness.

Tae didn't confront him about it until the nightmares were waking him up regularly. They were simple nightmares back then; images of Tae hurt and mugged. Tae beaten and left in an alleyway. Tae stalked through the night. Simple, but enough to keep him awake. Enough to torture him in his wakon hours as well as the nighttime.

If Jimin saw her now he'd pull the heavens down and demand something truly awful in exchange. He'd take one of the knives from the kitchen and gut him from belly button to addams apple. He'd eviscerate him- and Namjoon might help.

Hut there is no one here to do any of that, there is only Tae in the man's hold.

“What are you so scared of?” She’d asked one morning, trailing endless patterns on his chest in an effort to soothe him back to sleep.

“Something happening to you while I’m not there, mostly.”

“Would it make you feel better? If you taught me the basics?”

Jimin's pause is telling, more telling are his eyes, hopeful when he looks up at Tae. “Yes, it would.”

It’s been years and years since Jimin Tae have bothered to drill any self-defense sequences it at all. Since he stopped asking her to refresh the basics with him once a year just to make sure. Jimin never thought that Tae would have to use those skills. Like with most things, you just sort of hope you don't have to fight.

But Tae knows you did fight. It's written all over your bloody face and your bloody hands, tightened to fists by your side. If you fought tooth and nail to save them she should fight too.

Tae has written fight scenes like this before. If she survives the press of the gun to the back of her head, she’s gonna have one hell of a personal experience to pull from for her book. The content will be endless.

She seems to swell in the space, alpha shoulders settling back. Her mouth is moving, mouthing words her eyes on you. Just in case this is the last thing she ever does.

I’m sorry, I love you.

“Be a good boy and pick up the gun Tae.” Tae bends down, syrupy slow. Intentional with her every movement. One heartbeat. Another. Tae's fingers are maybe an inch from the gun when everything goes haywire.

When she's about halfway bent she uses her momentum to hurl her body back, slamming her head into the gun and then into the man’s face. Cracking the mask and from the sound of it, the man’s nose. Tae's almost knocks herself out with the force of her own head colliding with the man’s face.

She turns, she’s not finished, not even close. She might be a woman but she’s an alpha too. Alphas always always fight to protect their pack. She turns and swings.

And drives her elbow as hard as she can between the alpha’s legs.

Hobi can’t stop his flinch. That has to hurt.

The assassin’s gun goes flying, skittering across the dark floor and under the bookcase and Hobi ends up lunging for it. You go after it too but you end up holding Tae instead, crumpling to the floor without anything to hold her up. She’s holding the back of her head, eyes watering.

The traditional mask lyes in pieces around you, shatered by the force of tae's headbut. The man clutches his nose, features still covered by the ski mast. Growling out- "Bitch- fucking bitch! I'll kill you. I'll fucking kill all of you-"

Jin struggles yanking his cuffed hands down as hard as he can- in another minute he might get loose, but not quick enough as Hobi finds the gun and raises it. The bullet hits the molding beside your pantry, missing the man by inches as he dives away to safety. A lucky shot by any standard, let alone for a beginner. Hobi shoots off after him. knocking into the wall before he's up and chasing it.

“Are you okay, Tae, Tae- look up at me.” Tae is clutching the back of her head. Blinking rabidly. That fucking hurt even if it was worth it.

“I’m fine just-” She leans over your legs and vomits, retching loud and horrible. Concussion- she must have given herself a concussion. Namjoon told you months ago how to read the signs of them shortly after the first time Jungkook ever had a seizure in front of you.

You hold her shoulders, watching Jin try and break himself free, yanking his wrists hard enough that it has to hurt. Moving to try and help him.

And then Hobi makes a noise in the other room, a pained ghasp, A thump and then-

Tae is already up and running, stumbling into the wall. You glance at Jin. "Go- just go" Jin grinds out. But Tae has longer legs than you do even concussed.

By the kitchen, Hobi slips on a fallen tangerine. (You remember then, Yoongi clearing the table with a brush of his hands for Jimin, tossing a whole bowl of them onto the floor. Where they've stayed since then) they're fighting, the man must have managed to disarm Hobi somehow because the gun sits under one of the chairs. Both of them are fighting just beside the dining room table. Part of it splintered and broken where someone broke it.

They're grappling on the floor now. Pushing against each other trying to gain the upper hand. you've watched the alpha's wrestle before- small disputes to settle and reaffirm the hierarchy, but you've never seen hobi move like this. You watch the man grasp at his waist reaching for the knife. His hands so slick with his own blood that it clatters to the floor. Hobi may not be trained but he's a fighter too. Gnashing his teeth and growling. Reaching up into the shallow gash at the mans throat and digging in his fingers.

And then he’s got Hobi on the ground and his hands around your alpha's throat. Tae tries to get him off but he backhands her, sending her sprawling to the ground and clutching her cheek. Too dizzy to stand. Big hands that squeeze and squeeze and squeeze Hobi's narrow throat. Spit at the corner of his lips turning frothy as hoseok tries to breathe and can't.

“I didn’t come this far to get killed by a bunch of family rejects; 11 years and 1458 kills later and I will not die. Just give up already- I didn’t come this far to-”

Hobi’s face is turning purple, hands scrabbling, pushing against his face trying to get him off unsuccessfully. Dying there on the floor. Hobi is going to die right there if you don't do anything.

Jin is shouting from the other room and there is a frying pan in the kitchen. On the countertop that you snatch on your way past, winding up for it before you swing it with all your might at the man's head and-

At the end of the day, it’s hard to say exactly what kills him. Whether it's you or Tae who wields the killing blow. It’s more of a group effort between you and her.

Tae has read countless books that described love as some gentle force, but this love has not made her gentle. Tae cannot sit there on the floor and watch Hobi die. She'd do anything to protect him and the pack. She’d kill people like Minnie did, would lie just as Jin had, would have sacrificed anything- even herself just like Yoongi.

Love had always been giving in Tae's mind, and she would give countless sins and untold violence, to have this not be the last day with you and the pack.

The gun is just sitting there under the chair. tae hardly has to lean over to get it. (If she makes it out of this alive, she swears to himself that she'll finally start taking those kickboxing classes that Jungkook teaches.) Tae lifts the gun at the same moment that your hand descends with the frying pan.

Tae turns, points, aims, and fires. She doesn’t even think twice about it. The trigger goes down as easily as breathing.

Getting shot in the throat definitely distracts him enough, definitely makes him let go of Hobi, clutching at his own throat instead of his. blood rushing over his hand and down onto hobi's face. So much that it almost splashes.

And then the frying pan hits his head with a hollow final thud.

There is a placid terror in things like this, a quiet as things go and come. The thumping, the sobbing breaths you let out, the descent of your hand, beating out your terror on the body below, a vessel for all of your fear.

The handle of the frying pan is thick and heavy in your hands. You bring it down on the man’s head, the curved edge of the cast iron connects with the plate of his skull with a hollow thud. One second, he's clutching at his blown-apart throat, and the next he goes limp, blood and brain matter splatters loud and heavy along the floor. Falling on top of Hobi like a lead weight.

Hobi's brown eyes are bloodshot and red in his mouth, heaving one big breath that sends the room spinning. Sends vertigo into his veins and panic-running adrenaline. You lift your arms up again and hit him, descending again and again.

His body is still, so still. His chest gives one open shudder and then goes truly quiet. Frozen in time. You are covered in blood, in your mouth, on your hair, on the ceiling. More and more splatters as your hand goes up and then down in an endless loop.

Dark cotton soaks, matted with blood and brain matter, blurry from your tears. A bit of it hits your face, wet and stinky. People never tell you how horrible it smells when people die.

You don’t stop hitting the man, even when it's clear he's dead. Even when you glare down at him through the tears in your eyes and see half a face staring up at you. An eyeball rolls across the floor.

There are arms around you pulling you off of him eventually. Dry warm arms, big and heavenly. One wrist dangles with a pair of handcuffs as Jin yanks you back from the man. The body.

“Pup- It’s done, pup- he's gone- Stop.”

There is blood all over you. On your face, on your hands, around the frying pan. Tae too, sitting just beside you. Half of her body splattered. Hobi's soaked with it and still struggling to breathe. But both of them, the three of them are alive.

“It’s over pup.” Jin sounds like he might be crying. Tae definitely is.

Hobi puts his head between his knees, gasping for every breath but still breathing. Tae's got him in his lap. Holding on to him as he splutters. face so soaked with blood he can't open his eyes without blinking rapidly.

It’s anything but over you think as you let go of the handle of the frying pan.

It clatters to the ground with a bloody and final thunk.

~-~

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Notes:

if the beginning of the chapter feels weird/different in terms of narration that is because it was mostly written 3+ years ago and my writing style has changed alot! kinda crazy! hopefully people will just attribute it to hoseok's internal monologue. it might be meandering but i kept reminding myself that this is hoseok at his lowest you know?

One thing i want you guys to realize is that the m/c may not be smart, but holy fuck can she take a beating and still get up.

Gun shoot outs are uniquely hard to write because like, just bang and it's done right? idk why part of this writing just felt so tedious usually i love writing stuff like this :(

hobi calls the m/c his girlfriend 🥺 did you guys notice???? he's such a cute pup charecter.

i have more notes for this chapter BUT i can't share them until the next one is out because it involves hobi's secret.

i hope you guys see like- how good the m/c actually is at the crime and thinking on her feet shit- i think that this chapter above all others shows her street smarts. she knows to keep the guy talking and distracted- i think it compliments her similarities to jimin and jin like. the trio of them are very capable people you know? vs hobi who just headlong rushes the assassin and fucks shit up. i'm not saying it's his fault- he does the best that he can in this chapter.

I'm trying to pull from my actual knowledge of how guns work but fun fact, silencers are still fucking loud, like still so loud that you need ear protection. and even blank bullets can still cause serious injury at close range.

I'm again at the stage where i can't tell if the gun shooting scene is clunky and too predictable or if it's actually as creepy as i've made it out to be.

This is one of those situations- the bargaining for each others lives, that i've actually never had to handle. it's actually pretty unusual for me to write about things that i haven't experienced in some way shape or form.

i've only written a few scenes in my life that have made me wonder like "huh- i wonder if people might actually think that i've seen a dead body, been around a dead body, or killed someone before?" and ngl, the scene with the assassin dying is one that makes me wonder that... i promise i just have a scarily vivid imagination.

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callsignhood · 5 months

Text

König at a bar with you:

Tags: Related to this post / Fluff / Headcanon / Gender neutral / König is drunk and trusts you / König keeps his hood on

Word count: 400ish

He is talking more than usual, breathy laughs in between his words with a slight undertone of drunkenness, clearly in a good mood. König is talking about Austrian bread, Semmel, to be exact. You can hear his smile under his hood, describing how delicious Käsesemmel and Schinkensemmel are.

“Speak English, König.” You chuckle at him. He realizes he’s getting too comfortable with you and his German babbling stops. He clears his throat to hide away his slight embarrassment, then proceeds to explain: “Käsesemmel means cheese roll, it’s a round bread sandwich made with wheat flour, with cheese slices inside.” He explain, raising his voice a bit, excited about his country’s food. “It tastes amazing when it’s fresh out the oven. And it’s…” König holds his hand into a fist on the table, using it as a size reference. “It’s this big — the roll, I mean. And Schinkensemmel means ham roll… why are you laughing?”

You can’t help but laugh a little when he passionately describes his favourite bread. “Because you’re cute when you’re drunk, König.” You look at König’s eyes, and he quickly glances away onto something else. He lets out a dry laugh, you wonder if he’s blushing under the hood. “Mein Gott… stop mocking me like this. And I’m not drunk.” He mumbles with a grunt, in denial from your comment.

He’s always like this when you tease or praise him. If you drown him in praises, he’ll let out a frustrated grunt and tell you to cut it off, but nothing is truly aggressive from him, to you. You find that cute too.

“I meant it, even when you’re not drunk. I find you very… charming.” You insists, leaning a little towards him. His warmth is subtlety radiating out of his vest, and he starts to fumble with his fingers and knuckles on the table. He doesn’t say anything. What should he say? He is so flustered by your words. Bar and alcohol and you make his mind melt.

After a minute of silence of his uneasiness, you worry if you went too far. “You’re alright?” You ask, gently putting your hand on his back, comforting him by slowly moving up and down. To your surprise, he doesn’t push your arm away or anything. Instead, he turns his massive frame to you, hesitating. A pair of pretty eyes stare at yours, before he finally puts his head on your shoulder. You can’t help but to smile, feeling him nuzzling a little. You decide to be a bit bold as you slide your fingers from his back to the under of his hood, touching and massaging his neck.

König clearly tenses up for a second, then pushes his head deeper to your neck, letting out a sigh. You tease him as you softened your voice. “If you’re feeling sick, I can carry you back to the base, and we can eat some Käsemel together.” His laugh rumbles deep and intimate by your ear, and he gently wraps his arms around your waist. “It’s Käsesemmel, and you can never carry me, Liebling…” Of course, König is a hulking 300 pounds Goliath, nobody can carry him on the back. But he feels…small, and safe, under your touch. He buries his hooded face on you, so close that you can smell the Jägermeister from his breath. It was strong, he is definitely drunk.

The others are playing by the pool table away from you two. Billiards collide, and one of them cheer loudly. Looks like they will spend the night with pool and poker cards. And König chooses to spend the night with you. Talking, cuddling, anything. He closes his eyes, sits still and holds you in a little more. You smile, keep him comfortable by your side, as he lets himself to be vulnerable just for once.

“So it’s a no for Käsesemmel too?” You ask, then feeling a squeeze from his hand on your waist. “Käsesemmel, with you, always.” He mumbles back, as your touches make him sleepier by the second. He’s drunk, from the shots and drinks, but also from your caress.

#konig #konig x reader #könig call of duty #könig mw2 #könig cod #könig x reader #könig #konig call of duty #konig mw2 #konig cod #könig fluff #konig fluff #konig x you #könig x you

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intheshadowsbehindyou · 7 months

Note

What about showering with the mercs? Nothing dirty, like, at all. But like, washing the gross men’s hair while the bask in the most affection they’ve gotten since 5th grade. Maybe I just wanna see tough and gruff grown men turn into putty when given the smallest amount of care. Gn reader please!! And thank you!!

I love how you assume they got affection in 5th grade. What a very bold claim.

The Mercs taking a shower with Y/N (SFW)

Scout:

- Scout is a very restless person. He can never sit still for more than five seconds. It takes a lot of massages and rubbing soap on his body for him to finally stop shuffling his feet. Even then his attention is always caught by something mundane. Like a weird tile on the wall or the window high above near the ceiling where nobody could be a peeping tom.

- Your affections finally catch up to him. He relaxes a little more when you start to do his hair. He lays his entire head on you and lets you work at his scalp. You notice for some reason his dog-tags are still on him and ask him about it. He shrugs and goes “What if I die in the shower or some shit? Who knows. Maybe a frenchie will fuckshit out of nowhere and backstab me.”

- You can’t help but huff at his joke. It was an amused yet annoyed response to his nonsense. He smiles groggily as you begin washing his back. “Do you do this often?” “Do what?” You ask. “Join a group of mercenaries and then wash their backs.” He says. You scowl at him and shove the loofah in his mouth.

———————————————————————-

Soldier:

- Literal dog. Arches his spine and tilts his head back in bliss as you scratch his scalp. Sighs in relief as you release him of today’s pressure. Turns around against the wall to let you do his back. Raises any limb up when you need it. He enjoys being treated like a pampered animal. He’s like a big Labrador that loves water

- He begins doing you as well mid wash. Covering you in body wash and rubbing your back and tummy in circles. You know little to nothing of soldier’s past so it’s quite a pleasant surprise when you discover he’s good at this. Palming the knots out of your muscles and encouraging you to relax. It’s just enough pressure not to hurt you.

- He took his helmet into the wash.. unsurprising. Pyro and Spy have insecurities with their true face as well. He tilts his helmet upward and flicks it off. allowing it to fall to the floor. His grey eyes are so.. loving. There’s this adoring smile on his face. He makes you so weak you both have to sit down in the shower.

- “C’mere cutie.” Oh. oh shit.

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Demoman:

- Motherfucker brings alcohol into the shower and lights candles. It’s going to be awkward trying to explain to the others why there’s traces of platonic/romantic intimacy (your pick) in the fucking showers.

- … Let alone why some of the candles look suspiciously like sticks of dynamite.

- “Eh, I ran out of candles and em’ too lazy to get me ass to the store. The rest are just Delayed-Dynamite I bought from mann co a year ago. Don’t worry, we have aroun’ an hour before dey explode!” God you hate him so much sometimes. But you trust his profession in explosive devices and decide to risk it. If all else fails you’ll both just respawn and you’ll beat the shit out of him. No biggie! (Also that dynamite sounds really unhelpful.. No wonder he never used it.)

- Falls asleep in the shower with you on his lap. Usually he snores but he’s dead quiet this time with a big smile on his face. He seems quite content with this. Although you’re the one who has to snuff out the dynamite in time.

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Engineer:

- He obviously won’t show it, but he’s really timid and embarrassed about this. The moment you both get in, you’re squished against the wall by his massive tummy. Like actually suffocating. This particular shower is way too small for two people.

- “Sorry, pardner.” He says, so unsympathetically that he practically radiates it. In truth his shyness immediately faded when he realized he had the upper hand in the situation. He had a grin on his face as he watched you struggle to grab the soap. Jesus, even his manboobs were obstacles. You wondered how this guy didn’t just crush people on the battlefield by sitting on them.

- “See here, now..” He adjusts his mechanical hand, making sure it was still working — even under the water. He grabbed the soap and began soaping up a loofah. “Guess you’ll just have to watch me, instead. Huh?” He teased. His soft spoken voice made it sound more like he was teasing a small newborn puppy for falling on its back, though. Good luck trying to move around, let alone convince him you’ll wash him.

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Heavy:

- LITERALLY SUFFOCATES YOU TO DEATH LIKE ENGINEER BUT MORE PAINFUL

- You’re half wondering if you’re actually going to die from this or break the tile wall. Heavy just stares down at your poor body — that you SWEAR is being mangled right now. “Little teddy bear is too small for Heavy.” He grumbles, shoving his body into you to see your panicked squeaks.

- It doesn’t help that he’s actually incredibly muscular. All of that isn’t fat. It’s pure. fucking. bear. He moves back a bit after getting his fill of enjoyment and you touch his chest with your hands for the first time. Realizing it was rock solid. How did you not notice this before?

- His soft monster-like breathing was calming and evened out your own. It was like you were washing a sleeping dragon. You’re slightly disappointed he’s not a huge werewolf. But regardless, he was calm very often and you weren’t. This closeness and intense heat from the shower was making you sleepy.

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Pyro:

- Literally refuses. good job trying to get them in. You have to be a SUPER trustworthy friend/partner of many years before you come to this point.

- Even then, after they take a shower they enjoy a nice hot bath to unwind. It’s incredibly relaxing to lay on their chubby belly and allow yourself to take in the heat. They like their bathes EXTREMELY hot by the way. Might as well be boiling themselves. Luckily it doesn’t seem to be killing you or causing third degree burns, so it’s not boiling.

- When you wash them, make sure to rub their belly. They’ll practically melt at the touch. Maybe even almost fall asleep. Don’t forget to slap their belly like a drum. Produces nice sound. You NEED to do this. This is a threat.

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Sniper:

- Yes, this man does shower regularly. Dear god. You people are degenerates. He is NOT smelly stinky. Professionals have standards.

- Gets extremely touchy feely with you. As you trace his chest scars he flinches for a second but then sighs. You explore his body whilst soaping him up. Every little part of him is free for touching. On his back are many, many scars from spies that the respawn machine didn’t quite heal. You touch those sensitive areas to test the waters (pun intended.) and he nearly takes a huge chunk out of your shoulder by almost biting you.

- But feeling your comforting touch.. And your fingers carefully gliding over the sensitive areas, he trusts you to treat them well. You are so close to him you can practically feel his breath on your face and smell his pleasant aftershave. “Goood..” He growls. He drags his compliment and his voice makes you shiver. It’s like your ears are orgasming.

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Medic:

- He is unbelievably stubborn at first, but the moment you try and respect his wishes and leave, he goes “WAIT.” Yeah, fucking figures. You get in the shower with him and he’s trying to be stoic and distant most of the time. He feels exposed and it’s making him feel conflicted. Medic is dominate, protective by nature due to his difficult past. He feels a need to be in control of this situation entirely.

- He gets grumpy when you insist on washing him and reverses the situation. Instead opting to take care of you instead. He’s no stranger to massages. (Please don’t ask him about the time he had to check people bare naked when he still had his medical license.) And he’s really experienced in knowing all the right places. Instructing you in an incredibly professional manner to turn around, lift an arm and whatnot.

- The moment he goes to your stomach, he says quietly “Did you know that all your intestines are moving around in there like a snake right now? Ohh.. I’d love to feel the texture of them.” He presses his hand on your lower half, sad that it isn’t possible without cutting you open. He hums contently as he feels around where your lungs and heart would be. Counting every single second you breathe in and out.

- For some reason you feel like you’re being examined and breathe deeper breaths on instinct. Which only furthers his pleasure. “I want to be close..” His voice is barely audible. You swear he’s whispering this repeatedly. “I want to be close, I want to be close.. I want to be close.” He wraps his arms around you, squeezing you to death like a plush doll. “I want to be close, I want to be close!” He’s beginning to sound a little frustrated. As if he wanted to be one with you in some way.

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Spy:

- He’s so used to sexual favors that he mistakes this as some sort of sexual intimacy at first. Taken aback when he realizes it’s just casual affection. He’s not used to people loving him for merely existing. He always has to be in somebody’s pants or he feels useless to said person.

- Refuses to take his mask off. It’s sopping wet. You look at his pitiful state with love in your eyes. He scoffs at you “Oh look, somebody who doesn’t have to hide their identity because they don’t have literal mafias, big name criminals, and government officials tailing them.. How very wonderful.” He’ll take it off for the hair wash but you have to close your eyes while doing it, otherwise he threatens to cut you. (Hah. Bullshit. He won’t.)

- Very quiet most of the time. Little speak. His touch is delicate and focused, rubbing your back as you wash his big chest. For somebody who folds like a piece of paper on the battlefield against enemy pyros, he’s certainly strong compared to you.

- You feel something gently poke at your back. Freezing in place, you eye the sliver object behind you. Low and behold there’s spy’s butterfly knife. He can’t seem to get intimate without pulling that thing out and doing casual knife play with you. No matter who you are to him; he’ll twirl the knife behind you on your skin. So delicate that he doesn’t pierce your skin at all. He does this often as a game of trust. Eager to see if you’ll shrink away or not. In fear of what he truly is. Weapons will always be a part of him.

#demoman x reader #heavy x reader #medic x reader #spy x reader #tf2 x reader #tf2 x you #pyro x reader #sniper x reader #team fortress 2 #tf2

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