#curve folding technique
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A mobile of coelacanths swimming in a valley of buildings.
It looks black because of backlighting, but the kit is white.
Paper Craft Kit Mail Order
Paper Craft Kit ¥7,200
A4x8 sheets, pre-cut.
Mail order→goo.gl/nXtck9
For foreigners please "tenso. com/en".
ビルの谷間を泳ぐシーラカンスのモビール。
逆光なので黒く見えますが、キットは白です。
ペーパークラフトキット通販
ペーパークラフト・キット¥7,200
A4x8枚組、カット済み。
通販→goo.gl/nXtck9
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Be Mine [Loki x Reader]
A Link to my Masterlist is HERE
Summary: A morning meeting has an unexpected twist.
Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Language. Smutty. Avenger!Loki x Female Reader. Questionable flirting techniques. (w/c 2.8k)
The muscle at the side of Loki’s jaw flexed. He swallowed; an achingly glacial bob of his Adam’s apple making you want to claw your eyes out.
For some inexplicable reason he had opted to wear full leathers to today’s briefing.
It was seven nineteen in the AM. Thor was sporting a muscle vest boasting not one but three stains of varying complexity and a pair of shorts which left little to the imagination. Scott was wearing his dressing gown.
The rest of the team hung off chairs and flopped on the table in various states of undress. Steve stood at the head of the room as usual; prim and fresh in a crisp button-down and perfectly creased chinos.
“So what we’re seeing here,” Steve said, turning to the group from the Powerpoint, “is an up-tick in biological experiments-”
His eyes narrowed while they roamed over the doodling, distracted and hungover band sprawled around the table. “Lang.” he snapped. “Close your legs; there are ladies present.’
Scott shuffled up his seat, drawing the dressing gown down over his knees while mumbling apologies. A low rumble of mirth circled the room, but Loki’s gaze never left the Captain’s.
The curve of his dark lashes swept upward, features set in performative rapture. Loki's facial expression hadn’t changed as the scene unfolded, but for a miniscule twitch of his lip. Usually the two of you would exchange a few eye rolls; a few knowing smiles during a particularly turgid monologue about shoe storage post-mission...but not today. Today he hadn't even looked at you.
Steve sighed. He extended a finger and pushed his retractable pointer down to a stub. Pacing to the table, he dropped his head, laying his palms flat. When he looked up, disappointed-dad energy was thick in his eyes. “Folks, this just won’t do.” he said.
Natasha’s sunglasses slid down her nose. Scott crossed his legs making the swivel chair knock into Wilson and waking him up. The Falcon’s arms flew wide on instinct, whacking Tony in the chest. “Jesus Christmas-” Tony snorted, blinking wildly.
“It was a party.” Natasha drawled, pushing the sunglasses back in place with disdain. “Maybe if you’d stayed after the cake you’d have those tight panties of yours in less of a spick, Rogers.”
“That’s Captain Rogers.” he snapped. “We’re on the clock.”
“Calm down, Rogers.” Tony said, cresting his fingers. He was remarkably chipper for a man with whipped cream crusted in his hairline. “You’re all sitting on my clock. Remember that.”
Steve flushed scarlet. His eyes narrowed as Tony’s smirk grew.
“All I’m saying is it’s a sorry day when Laufeyson is the star pupil. Look at him!” Steve said, gesturing incredulously at Loki who remained in position; back straight, chin up. But now, one eyebrow arched. “All of you lot in your skivvies and Laufeyson’s in full dress?” Steve shook his head.
“I fail to see the humour, Rogers.” Loki said. “Why is it so surprising that I come to our daily summons dressed thus? Certainly I have never presented myself in a tragic towelling monstrosity like Lang here.”
“There was that one time with the silk nightie.” Sam whispered to Scott. Scott covered his mouth.
“A silk robe.” Loki snapped.
“Usually you only bring out the Asgardian shit when you’re brown-nosing. Or when you’ve done something shifty.” Natasha said, propping her chin up with a fist. You bet her eyes are closed. Wanda nodded behind her Starbucks.
“Or trying to impress someone,” the witch said. Natasha waved a finger in agreement. “Sexually.” Wanda added.
Loki released a scandalised snort. “How dare you.” he said. Leather creaked against his biceps as he folded his arms.
Beneath the table, your thighs squeezed together. The only thing hotter than Loki in leather, was an indignant Loki in leather. You suddenly became very aware of your quickened breaths making the buttons of your blouse strain. The god’s eyes darted to the side, meeting yours.
“What?” he snarled.
“Nothing.” you squeaked, swallowing.
An awkward silence hung in the room. The scent of stale vodka suddenly seemed very strong. Steve sighed.
“Let’s call it for this morning-” he said, immediately met with muted hisses of celebration around the table. He patted down the air. “Rescheduled for this afternoon. Thirteen-hundred sharp. Wear clothes.” Approval turned to whines and hushed curses as chairs were swivelled and aching bodies shifted.
“Unbelievable.” Loki snarled under his breath.
You watched out the corner of your eye as he stood; the flat of his iron stomach inches from your face. The scent of rich leather filled your nostrils while Loki’s fingers nipped beneath the hem of his tunic, tugging it down. He flipped the length of his cape with a sniff. You saw it swirl around his boots briefly as he stepped towards the window, clasping his hands behind his back.
Taking your time, you picked up each piece of carefully laid stationary at your seat. One by one, the rest of the team left the room. Steve was last, his hand hovering on the door handle while he shot you a wary look. As a parting gift, he opened the door wider.
“You didn’t stay late?” Loki’s voice was a thick hum in the growing silence. His tone, inscrutable.
“Huh?”
“At the party.” he said. “You didn’t stay late.”
This time it wasn’t a question.
“I usually head off when Thor starts making passes at everyone. I didn’t see you. Were you there?”
“He did that?” Loki bristled. “To you?”
There was a pause. “To everyone.” you repeated quietly. Loki’s shoulders stiffened. His fingers twitched, thumb digging into one exposed palm behind his back. He was still staring out the window.
“I’ll see you later.” you said, nerves fluttering in your belly. The god’s hair shortened as his chin dipped. You wondered how it would feel to wind those dark strands through your fingers as you rode him. Wondered how the grunts and signs and pretty curses from his lips would sound wet in your ear.
“No.” Loki said.
“Excuse me?”
“No,” he repeated.
You steadied against the table-top with the pads of your fingertips. Small stars began to burst in your field of vision. “I think the leather looks goo-good,” you stammered. And you didn’t know why.
The thought of him barring the exit of enemies in far flung realms using only that voice barged through the doors of your imagination with the force of a horny caveman. If that was the last sarcastic quip they heard, by god, you imagined they may just have died happy. And hard.
“It looks good.” you repeated, no more than a whisper.
Loki turned his head. The sharp profile came into view at a glacial pace. First the peaked tip of his chin, then the slant of his regal nose, then the harsh peak of his cheekbone, then his eyes. Your ass met the table-top with a stumble. There was a small crease between his eyebrows.
“Bold of you to make another jest without your compatriots around you, Agent.” he said. Across the short distance between you, venom dripped from his tongue; his hackles raised.
“I wasn’t joking,” you said quietly as his gaze fell to your feet with a sneer. The quick breaths that made your buttons strain were back. Loki’s rising stare lingered on your breasts, a small smile tweaking at the corner of his mouth. Words tripped from your lips, forcing their way from behind your teeth. “I like it.”
Loki’s eyes narrowed. He turned fully with a ceremonial flourish, the hands clasped behind his back moving to the front and rippling his leather and silken cloak. It fluttered.
“Is that so?” he purred darkly. He didn’t believe you.
You imagined how this is how a rabbit felt in the eyeline of a fox. To look away was to admit weakness, vulnerability. It meant death. And yet – it was the only chance to escape. But did you want to escape? Not really. You wanted to feel the sharp of his teeth fasten to your neck as he sucked and bit and made violent love to every inch of you.
You nodded, not breaking eye-contact. Loki inhaled sharply, chin tilting up as he did so.
His eyes wandered over grim foam tiles as though an enemy lurked beyond the suspended ceiling. They narrowed, darting back and forth. With a thundering heart, you noted one of his heavy boots rise from the floor. He paced forwards slowly, ceremonially, stopping inches from you. Your fingers curled tight around the table’s edge, the messy in your panties beneath the skirt becoming intolerable.
Loki cleared his throat. “Am I to understand, contrary to common rhetoric, that you find my Asgardian leathers enticing; Agent?”
“I think ‘enticing’ is a little grandiose, is it not?” you laughed, cringing at the way you so easily mirrored his speech. Loki noticed it too. He tilted his head.
“I am nothing if not grandiose, Agent.” Loki said. “Am I not impressive? Am I not imposing?”
He trailed a long finger down your bicep, his touch light as a feather. “So often, you mortals use such words as insult.” he mused.
“It is merely a reflection on your own feelings of inferiority. This morning is a perfect example. An attempt at ridicule to deflect from their own pathetic presentation. Each one more bedraggled and an abject embarrassment to their purpose than the last.”
Heat began to rise in your cheeks as his finger drifted along your collarbone. There was a pause, his eyes dropping to your lips before the finger brushed the skin at the hollow of your neck. It graced upwards, tracing the curve and stopping beneath the tip of your chin. “But not you.” he said.
The god’s eyes snapped to yours. His cheekbones hollowed under fluorescent lights, mischief glowing from the depths of his irises and painted in every light wrinkle on his brow.
“What else do you like, Agent?” he goaded softly. “Do you like the idea of what lies beneath these leathers?”
You swallowed thickly.
“I don’t know what you want me to say, Loki-” you said, glancing towards the open door. He followed your eyes, rolling his own. With a flick of his hand the door slammed shut.
“I want you,” he breathed, leaning closer so that the heat of his cheek warmed your own, “to tell me what else you like.”
You bit your lip, watching his beautiful face come back into view. With a prang, the thought occurred that perhaps you were not the rabbit after all. Perhaps you were the fox. Loki’s gaze lingered on your face, searching it.
Emboldened, you found the words. “Why should I?”
His brows peaked softly. He released a muted sigh, pursing his lips. “As much as I am loathe to admit it, Romanoff was right.” he said. The hand tilting your chin upwards returned to its mate, clasped against the leather tunic. “I was trying to impress someone, but not that insufferable Rogers.”
He raised his eyebrows.
Excitement blossomed deep in your belly; rising like shaken soda and fizzing around your chest. Loki bit his bottom lip.
“You see, Agent, I like you very much. And I’m afraid that now it has reached the juncture where I must know if you like anything about me...beyond my exquisite taste in battle armour.”
The change in his demeanour was so dramatic that you could only gape. But when it came to Loki, could you expect anything less? Without thinking you reached forward and grasped the belt slung over his chest, pulling him forward.
Loki’s mouth clashed with yours, the heat of his lips giving way to the thrust of his tongue. Your hands slid over his metal epaulettes, tangling in ebony waves that cascaded around his shoulders. He tasted like heaven, the scent of him deep and dangerously delicious in a way you’d never known. A scent a girl could lose herself in forever; gladly.
In seconds your back was flat against the table, its cool wood harsh against the heat of your skin through the blouse. Loki’s ravenous kiss consumed you, licking and dancing inside your mouth like a man possessed. His shallow moans ricocheted between slurps of his lips, wetness coating them.
“Tell me, you infuriating woman,” he panted as a thick forearm landed on the wood beside your head. The metal vambrace clanged against cheap wood. Saliva hung between your mouths as he stared deep into your soul; blue eyes darkening. “Tell me what you like.”
“About you?” you panted. Loki didn’t nod, only lowered his chin.
His nose nudged at your lips, dragging upwards, tongue tracing around the bottom one. He had begun to smile. One of his legs nudged your thighs wider. The god straightened and you felt a thrill run from your scalp to the tips of your dangling toes. He towered above like a monolith, leather tight to his rectangular body. Hair fell around his jaw, perfectly imperfectly wolfish curls flirting against his skin. His cape brushed against your bare calves as he shifted his stance, palms sliding up your thighs and pushing your skirt higher.
“Yes; I like the idea of what’s beneath all this,” you whined as you pawed at his leather-clad stomach. It was so hard. Loki smirked, watching beneath half-lidded eyes. “I think about fucking you in the showers after training,” you whispered bashfully as your hips thrust up against your will. Loki raised an eyebrow.
“More...” he rumbled.
“I think about you all the time. All the awful things I want to do to you, y-you do to me- Loki, uhh-”
His hands crept higher as you spoke, fingers hooking around the hips of your panties. “If I pull these down, darling” he said with an air of reprimand, “will they be wet?”
You let out a gasping moan, back arching against the table.
“Excellent.” Loki snickered, pulling the panties down the length of your legs before stepping back between them.
A hand flew to your mouth as you watched one long finger dip between your thighs, running lightly between your folds. He brought it to his lips, sucking gently. His cheekbones hollowed, finger slipping out. He swallowed with a groan of appreciation.
Loki settled himself between your legs, pushing them wider. The height of the table pressed your dripping centre against his crotch. You thought you might explode. His palms slid up your waist, exploring the curves of your body while your legs wrapped around his hips. The god’s cock pressed eagerly against the leather, strong and thick up the centre. His forearms came down at either side of your head, metal wrist-guards clinking.
“I will show you what it is to be mine,” he murmured in your ear.
Loki’s cock settled against your sex, rubbing in perfect gyration. “Oh...god,” you gasped as the weight of his body pressed against your own.
Fingers combed up from the base of his neck, tangling in his hair. The next moment, they grasped around his back, pulling him closer, catching in the folds of his cloak which draped across your bodies. The god grunted filthy praises in your ear as his bound manhood sent electric currents of pleasure deeper than you’d ever known. His searching lips found their way to your neck, your jaw. Every utterance from his throat more disgustingly sensual than the last.
Hot leather filled your nostrils, the scent of him strong and intoxicating. Mounting orgasm bubbled in waves, a dream-like trance broken only with whispered groans of pleasure from your throats. Loki Laufeyson was about to make you cum. The thought was unbelievable. And yet, your pussy being tugged and massaged and owned by his leather-bound cock into the throes of heaven knew it to be true. Dry-humped like a teenager in the back of a pick-up.
“Be mine...” Loki mumbled breathlessly, a strangled choke gasping from deep in his chest. He immediately dove for a perishing kiss, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth and releasing it with a wet suck. He smouldered down.
Against the bright lights, his dark halo shone; tendrils curling against your cheek and brushing with every calculated roll of his hips. Every muscle in your body tensed. Your legs tightened against his hips.
“Be mine,” he echoed. His face was twisted, and you suddenly wondered how close he was to cumming in those beautiful leather pants.
“Loki-” you gasped, clutching at his cape. Back arching, the last thing you heard as climax stormed your brain were the matching pants of the god. The last thing you saw were his peaked brows above dilated pupils so deep you could drown in them.
In the afterglow, all you could manage were garbled phrases as your forearm draped over your eyes. “That was...unexpected.” you panted when the god’s weight lifted from your chest.
“Perhaps for you.” Loki winked. “It was very carefully calculated on my part,”
You watched in dazed disbelief as Loki sank to his knees, leather creaking, and hoisted your hips higher. He lapped at your soaking pussy, muffled moans seeping from his throat as he buried himself in your fresh pleasure. The flat of his tongue licked a thick stripe from the base to your swollen clit, placing a gentle suck on the tip. His eyes flickered up, meeting yours.
“Immaculate, as expected.” he breathed. His chin glistened.
You groaned as he withdrew; grasping at the air as he went. That small caress of him against your sex was everything you could ever have dreamed. Loki let you reluctantly arrange yourself before offering his hand for the short hop off the table. “Not exactly how I imagined our first time,” you said with a sheepish smile. Loki scanned your face.
“Agent don’t be insulting. That was merely a sample,” he scoffed. “It barely counts.” He stepped forward, pulling you flush against him with a flat palm at the base of your spine. “We must ensure you have eaten something before more intimate activities are indulged in; lest you faint. Or worse.”
“Or worse?”
“You are only mortal, after all.” Loki smiled slyly. “And this,” he gestured to his cock; hard and straining against the leather, “can be rather a handful. As well can his Master.”
You slapped him on the shoulder. Loki smirked. Remembering the unexpected schedule change, you frowned. “You think we have time before the meeting later?”
Loki snorted. “We’re not attending. The two of us fulfilled our obligations, unlike the more cretinous members of our party.”
You raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to get me in trouble, I can tell.”
Loki’s fingers danced up your back, a light thrust of his hips making your body keen. His dirty exhale flooded your ear, the warm scent of him overloading your senses.
“Oh Agent,” he purred against the skin; his eyes darting covertly to the pair of panties discarded on the floor. “As if you expected anything less.”
Taglist (continued in comments)
@lokischambermaid @meowmeow-motherfucker @gigglingtiggerv2 @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @loopsisloops @glitchquake @holdmytesseract @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @fandxmslxt69 @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @sebstanwhore @xorpsbane @peacefulpianist @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @acidcasualties @ozymdias @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @thenotoriouserg @ladyofthestayingpower @wolfmoonmusic @brittbax @smolvenger @liminalpebble @joyful-enchantress @kaleenjackson @fictional-hooman @kellatron55 @icytrickster17 @multifandom-worlds @buttercupcookies-blog
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treat ‘em mean, keep ‘em keen
warnings: SMUT (18+ only), p in v, overstim, cunnilingus, aftercare ofc, bradley is the hottest man ever xx
kinktober masterlist
You love it when it storms; the distant crackle of thunder on the horizon, the way the wind sweeps everything sideways until all you can hear is the pounding of droplets against the window panes.
You especially love that, oftentimes, it means Bradley gets to come home early.
He’s slipped straight into the bathroom on his journey into the house, past the living room and the kitchen and you. You hear the shower turn on and the whine of the old pipes that most definitely need replacing. You hear exactly when his bare skin hits the hot spray of water, almost picturing the steam rising and clouding up and around him.
You tiptoe to the en-suite as quietly as you can, each item of clothing slowly discarded the closer you get to what you want.
The bedroom comes into view and you see steam curling around the base of the bathroom door; it's ajar.
You can feel his eyes on you as it creaks open, his smirk as he takes in every inch of your naked skin - the curve of your hips, the swell of your breasts, the pudge of your tummy.
“Hi, baby,” he murmurs; his thick fingers grasp and squeeze at the fat of your hips before you've even fully stepped into the shower, and he tugs you close, pressing your chest to his.
“I missed you,” you purr, forehead nestled into the juncture of his neck “Glad you’re back early.”
He palms the globes of your ass, rocking the semi he’s already sporting against your naked pussy.
“I missed you more.”
You relax forwards into him and you can feel his smile imprinted into your shoulder, the thick mustache on his top lip scraping against your soft complexion.
You tuck your arms underneath his and hum, the rake of his fingernails up and down on your back enough to have your eyes fluttering closed.
His hands are slow on their descent, pausing and halting to toy with every part of your body he loves; his thumbs slide across the tiger-like stretch marks on your thighs before moving inwards. You shudder, brows knitting and tight where you still lazily rest on his shoulder.
Two fingers slip between your folds, the broadness paired with the rough callouses enough to have you leaning forward into his hold more than you already are. He’s happy enough to take your weight, hooking a forearm beneath your knee and caging you in against the glass wall of the shower.
“There she is,” he coos, teases really, a thick thumb coming up to draw tight circles on your little nub. He delights in the way a soft moan pushes past your lips despite your efforts to keep them concealed – you don’t want to inflate his ego too much, let him know this is all it takes to have you keen beneath him. It’s no use really; his confidence is enough to carry him without any sort of technique, it’s just luck that he has that too.
You tremble as his movements get hard and fast against your poor little cunt and he sinks to his knees. The tip of his nose nudges at your clit, and god, you swear nothing ever prepares you for how good he makes you feel every single time.
“You just relax, angel. Gonna take care of this pretty little pussy for you, okay?” His voice is husky and deep but smooth and sticky like honey. You could listen to him forever.
His tongue is on you before you even have time to breathe; first fast, flicking against your bud like slaps, quick in succession, and then slower as he flattens his tongue out and slurps, makes the most obscene noises as his mustache tickles against your clit. Your thighs shake against the sides of his head, your fingers raked through the wet hair stuck flat to his head, all the while he’s focused, soaking himself with the juices from your drooling hole.
You’re close by this point, chest ragging breaths, feet sliding against the wet shower floor as Bradley pins you up by your hips and doubles down.
That’s all it takes, really, though you’d never admit it. You gasp and that coil that’s been building snaps with such a force you see white.
You let out this long, keening whine, trembling in his forceful grip as your cunt tenses and spasms under his mouth.
“Baby, I’m done,” you gasp, “Please, fuck, that’s enough.”
He only grins from his place between your legs and slips two fingers into your still quivering hole.
“You’re gonna give me another one, sweet girl.”
You can feel yourself sweating despite the onslaught of water pounding on top of the pair of you.
You’re already drawing to your peak again, a heat growing in your cunt where Bradley is skilfully crooking his fingers against that spot that makes you see stars.
“Attagirl, give it to me,” he coos, before going back to slurping at your cunt like a man deranged.
You have no choice but to oblige him, and with a shriek, you cum on his tongue and fingers once more.
He releases you slowly, straightening and wrapping your thighs tight around him as the head of his cock nudges at your entrance. He pulls you down and around him with a groan, his head going straight to the juncture of your neck as he punches his cock up into you.
A scream falls from your kiss bitten lips and your nails tighten and dig into his shoulders; you’re so sensitive, you can feel every brush of his cock on your insides, every vein and ridge, every little movement.
“Two more,” he grunts, teeth scraping at your jaw. “Two more and you’re done, baby.”
He’s relentless in his pursuit of your next orgasm, pace fast as he thrusts up into you time and time again.
It’s not long before you’re on the precipice again, and Bradley feels the telltale sign of your pussy strangling him, pulling him further in, just as you squeak and cum around him. You soak him with it, your legs squeezing his torso tight as you burrow into his skin to try and escape this intense pleasure he’s pushing down onto you. You’re alight with it, every nerve ending on fire as you shake and moan.
He doesn’t stop; you’re far past your threshold and still he continues on, the squelching of your pussy enough to have him hardening even more, more than he ever thought possible.
He knows he’s not going to last much longer so he’s quick to press a thumb to your trembling clit, pushing in tight, fast circles as he pushes you from one orgasm and almost instantly into the next.
“Last one, baby. Give it t’me, okay? You can do it.”
Your clit kisses his pubic bone as he pushes all the way in and grinds against you, fervour lacing his every movement as he desperately forces you towards the edge again.
You’re dead weight at this point, head rolling against his shoulder as he hikes you up and around his waist and sets a furious pace.
“Jesus, sweetheart, I’m gonna cum, fuck!” He grits out, biting at the slope of your shoulder until you can’t hold on any longer and cum with a cry; your whole body tenses and snaps like a bowstring, and you’re clinging to Bradley to hold you up, sagging as he finally chokes out a gasp and fills you. You flood with warmth and he lowers the pair of you to the floor under the hot spray of water. You’re in his lap, eyes closed as you already begin to doze off with the skin on skin contact.
“C’mon, honey. Gotta get out before the water gets cold.”
He towel dries you and carries you, limp, to the bedroom; finds the baggiest t-shirt for you to snuggle up in and a pair of panties for your sore pussy. His sharp grin tells you everything you need to know before the words leave his mouth.
“I’ll come home early every day if I get to fuck you like that.”
#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley bradshaw#bradley bradshaw smut#bradley bradshaw x y/n#bradley bradshaw x female reader#bradley rooster bradshaw#bradley bradsaw x reader#bradley bradshaw fanfiction#bradley bradshaw fic#bradley bradshaw fluff#bradley bradshaw oneshot#bradley bradshaw blurb#top gun maverick#top gun maverick fic#writer#writers on tumblr#writing#writing for fun#urvampgf’s kinktober 2023
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Minoan Heanos
The distinctive open-front dresses worn by Minoan women are probably even more iconic than the multi-layered kilts. Over time, there's dispute whether the garment is one piece or a separate bodice and skirt, but currently the one-piece theory is in ascendance.
The word heanos is derived from the Linear B logogram *146, wehanos. The wes- prefix, which is the squiggle in the middle, indicates a garment. Bernice Jones believes that this logogram represents the garment worn by Minoan men and women.
Marie-Louise B. Nosch, The Textile Logograms in the Linear B Tablets, pp 133-138
More research and construction below the cut:
The theory that the garment is a full-length tunic is further supported from imagery from the time, like these figures from the c. 1400 BCE Hagia Triada Sarcophagus. This detail from the sarcophagus shows three figures in some kind of procession, 2 women and 1 man. The woman at left wears a tunic with some kind of pelt as a skirt, and the other 2 figures wear tunics without anything over them, showing that they are one continuous, ankle-length garment.
Some of the most important resources for interpreting how the heanos was constructed comes from the two women depicted in the House of the Ladies in Akrotiri, wherein the side seams of the tunic are clearly visible running along the side of the body and under the arm.
details of figures from the House of the Ladies, Akrotiri, via Wikimedia Commons
advadbsvasb
Diagrams from Bernice Jones' book Ariadne's Threads, p. 82, via Gorgeous Tangents
The heanos itself is made of 3 pieces of fabric: 1 back and 2 fronts. These diagrams show a concave hem like on the labrys-shaped kilt but I went with a straight hem, which is an equally valid option. The end of the sleeves are level with the edge of the hem at the widest point. This would probably be the width selvage-to-selvage on the fabric, being narrower than fabric widths commonly are today. There are 4 seams: the shoulder seam, the two side seams, and a front seam (optional, but recommended if you would prefer not being arrested.) It may be tempting to fold the fabric across the shoulder, so the only sewing is side seams and a neck hole, but this makes a weaker garment overall. I used this as a shortcut in my fitting muslin and it caused tears and weak points at the three points of the front opening.
my fabric was a lightweight, moderately loose-woven cotton with a supplementary weave pattern in squares and diamonds. Linen or wool would have been more accurate but also? much harder to find from online quilting stores selling fabric for affordable prices. The main fabric is dark orange and the pattern is made out of pink/lilac threads. This weaving technique resulted in a LOT of long floats (unsecured expenses of thread) on the back--you can see how the wrong side of the fabric is much pinker than the right side. These floats could snag easily if I wasn't careful, so while it made a very effective visual for this tunic, I do not think that this fabric type would be viable for everyday wear. I'll leave it to people who actually know about weaving to ponder what more accurate weaving techniques would be.
Construction
The overall pattern is basically a T-shaped tunic, and the most important measurements are shoulder circumference, shoulder width, bust circumference, and the shoulder-waist length. In addition, you need measurements for the bicep, waist, shoulder-navel length, and hip circumference. After working out the fit with a muslin, I ended up with this pattern, 1 of 4 identical quarters.
Your first impulse may be to make the tunic very close-fitting, since the depictions in frescoes are skin-tight, but since the pattern has no added gusset this is a recipe for Cannot Move Arm. So I gave a very generous curve under the arm, which also made the dress look better when my arms were down, avoiding armpit wrinkles. I continued that ease into about an extra 2 inches added on to my waist measurement and plenty of extra space around my hips so that I could do exciting things like Sit Down.
I sewed the shoulder and side seams using the machine, and felled the raw edges on each side of the seam by hand with a whipstitch. I foided back the front edges of the v-neck instead of cutting them, which was a tip I got from the Gorgeous Tangents blog. This strengthens the neckline and keeps it from stretching, and also means that everything can be readjusted if you have size fluctuations or just want to modify the tunic into something more or less modest.
I whipstitched the front edges together by hand--the contrasting selvage didn't matter because it would be covered up by trim. I ended up cutting the tunic a liiiittle shorter than I wanted, so I finished it with some leftover bias binding instead of hemming it to conserve as much length as possible.
Trim
I custom-ordered the woven tape trim from Long Creek Mercantile. Both are made of wool--the "header band" and the hem trim are 1 1/4" wide and the center-front and cuff trim are 3/8" wide. I observed that most images of the Minoan heanos show trim with two colors at most, in a simple geometric or linear pattern, so I consciously restrained myself from ordering anything more elaborate. The clothing on Minoan frescoes is characterized by strongly contrasting colors, so blue trim was the most obvious, and best-looking option. Orange tunics with blue trim appear multiple time in art like the "Dancing Lady" fresco from Knossos:
Dr. Jones suggests that the band across the shoulder would historically have been a header band--a band of threads woven at the beginning of a project in order to properly space the warp bands (see her diagram at the beginning). That may be a reason why the shoulder trim often depicted under the front or sleeve trim, as shown above. Regardless, the trim almost always coordinates.
I sewed on the shoulder trim by hand, the sleeve and hem trim by machine, and the center-front trim with a combination of both.
Tassels
Many frescoes from Akrotiri and Hagia Triada show the ends of the supposed header band turned into tassels. This embellishment is not universal among heanoi, as you can see from the "Dancing Lady" above, but it does add a fun little something!
(yes, my Lounging Pants are very fashionable)
I turned the excess ends of the shoulder "header band" trim into fringes, knotting the yellow ones into a lattice and turning the blue yarns into tassels. The lattice-tassel appears on a fresco from Hagia Triada:
Reproduction of fragmentary fresco from Room 14 at Hagia Triada, Crete
The saffron gatherers from Akrotiri shown below have clearly displayed fringes at the ends of their sleeves. The one on the left has red fringes that appear knotted or ravelled/unravelled in an undulating pattern, and the one on the right has fringes that may be either beaded with papyrus-shaped leaves or cut into short tassels.
Another option is leaving the fringes loose, as seen in the Akrotiri frescoes from Xeste, room 3:
The final garment was super comfy, actually! It's much simpler to create than I thought it would be based on the frescoes, which made it all feel pretty magical when everything came together. I did think it was a little unusual how tailored this garment is, and the potential waste of fabric that comes from a shaped garment, especially compared to how later ancient greek clothing was mainly rectangles. I don't know enough about bronze-age and earlier clothing to have any idea how typical this was, since I'm extremely Not an expert on this subject, but am always open to learning more!
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spilled wine // nakahara chuuya
tw ⇢ highly suggestive themes, alcohol consumption, chuuya being down bad, fingering, grinding, unprotected sex
wc ⇢ 2.7k
You sat idly in front of him, your lithe hands housing a glass of wine. You mindlessly twirled the contents around, watching as the red liquid sloshed within the confines of the glass, unaware that Chuuya had been ogling you the entire night. You couldn't exactly blame him, though. Ever since the both of you joined the mafia, Chuuya had always been used to seeing you in hoodies and sweatpants. You were hardly the type to dress up for parties, much less attend them. Even after seven years of working together, it had taken Chuuya considerable effort to drag you out of your office and into this extravagant soirée.
Chuuya's main motivation for insisting on your attendance was simple: he didn't want to be the only one stuck entertaining the drunk old men at the party, who seemed only interested in boasting about their latest torture techniques and the groups they had recently slaughtered. It was tiring, listening to their incessant chatter about violence and cruelty. He knew the only way he'd make it through the night with his sanity intact was if you were by his side. Which is why he had shown up at your room earlier, a stunning dress in hand - because he was absolutely sure you wouldn't be caught dead with a party dress in your closet.
Initially, it had taken some convincing to get you to wear the dress. You were stubborn, resistant to the idea of dressing up for an event you had no interest in attending. But after a few well-placed bribes and a bit of persistent coaxing from Chuuya, you finally folded, agreeing to don the elegant attire he had so carefully selected for you.
Now, as Chuuya's eyes drank in the sight of you, he was starting to regret his decision to buy you that particular dress. It wasn't that you looked bad - quite the contrary, actually. The plain black fabric hugged your curves in all the right places, the deep v-neckline revealing just enough cleavage to make his mouth go dry, while the high slit up the side of the skirt allowed for tantalizing glimpses of your toned legs as you moved. No, the problem wasn't that you looked bad. The problem was that you looked too good.
Chuuya found himself unable to tear his gaze away from you, his eyes tracing the lines of your body, committing every detail to memory. The way the dim lights of the room cast shadows across your face, accentuating your delicate features. The way your hair, normally tied back in a practical ponytail, now cascaded down your back in soft, lustrous waves. The way your lips, painted a deep shade of red to match the wine in your glass, curved into a small, enigmatic smile as you surveyed the room.
Maybe it was the fact that he had always wanted to see you look your best, to witness the transformation from the practical, no-nonsense colleague he had grown so accustomed to working alongside, to this stunning vision before him. Maybe it was because he had desperately wanted to see you in a dress, to have the opportunity to admire the feminine curves that were so often hidden beneath baggy clothing. Or maybe, just maybe, it was secretly because he had wanted to match with you, to present a united front to the rest of the mafia, to show that you were a team, both on and off the job.
But one thing was clear: Chuuya definitely regretted buying you that dress. Because now, all he could think about was peeling it off of you, slowly, savoring every inch of your naked body. He wanted to run his hands along your sides, to feel the warmth of your body beneath his fingertips. He wanted to pull you close, to breathe in the scent of your perfume, to taste the wine on your lips as he claimed them with his own.
Chuuya shook his head, trying to dispel the inappropriate thoughts that had taken root in his mind. You were his colleague, his partner. He couldn't let his attraction to you compromise the professional relationship you had built over the years. But as he watched you take another sip of your wine, your throat bobbing gently as you swallowed, he knew that it was going to be a long, torturous night, one filled with stolen glances and barely restrained desire.
He could only hope that you remained oblivious to the effect you were having on him, that you continued to sit there, idly twirling your wine, blissfully unaware of the hunger in his eyes and the fire in his veins. Because if you ever found out just how badly he wanted you, Chuuya knew that there would be no going back, no pretending that things could ever be the same between you again.
With a sigh, Chuuya tore his gaze away from you, focusing instead on the boring conversations happening around him. He would endure this party, this night, with the same stoic professionalism he brought to every aspect of his life. But deep down, he knew that his feelings for you, the desire that burned within him, would not be so easily ignored. And as the night wore on, he found himself wondering just how long he could keep his true feelings hidden, before the inevitable happened and the carefully constructed walls between you came crumbling down.
As the night wore on, the party grew more boisterous, the laughter and chatter of the inebriated guests filling the air. You and Chuuya exchanged a knowing glance, both feeling the weight of the evening's tedium pressing down upon you. Without a word, you rose from your seat, tilting your head towards the exit in a silent invitation. Chuuya nodded, relief flooding through him as he followed you out of the crowded room and into the cool night air.
You walked in comfortable silence, the sounds of the party fading into the background as you made your way back to your shared apartment. Once inside, you kicked off your heels, sighing in relief as your feet were freed from their confines. Chuuya loosened his tie, unbuttoning the top of his shirt as he watched you move about the room, your dress swishing around your legs with every step.
"I need a drink," you declared, making your way to the kitchen and pulling out a bottle of red wine. Chuuya followed, grabbing two glasses from the cupboard and setting them down on the counter. You poured the rich, crimson liquid into each glass, the aroma of the wine wafting up to fill the air between you.
You picked up your glass, swirling the contents before bringing it to your lips. But as you tilted your head back to take a sip, a small trickle of wine escaped the corner of your mouth, trailing down your chin and along the smooth column of your throat. Chuuya's eyes followed the path of the errant droplet, transfixed by the sight of the dark liquid against your skin.
Without thinking, Chuuya leaned in, his tongue darting out to catch the wayward drop of wine. You gasped at the sudden contact, your eyes widening as Chuuya's mouth brushed against your throat, his tongue lapping at your skin. The sensation sent shivers down your spine, your pulse quickening as Chuuya's lips traveled upwards, tracing the line of your jaw before finally capturing your mouth in a searing kiss.
The taste of the wine mingled with the unique flavor of you, and Chuuya found himself intoxicated by the heady combination. His hands came up to cup your face, his fingers tangling in your hair as he deepened the kiss, his tongue delving into the warm cavern of your mouth. You responded in kind, your own hands fisting in the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer as you lost yourself in the sensations he was evoking.
Time seemed to stand still as you kissed, the world around you fading away until there was nothing but the feel of his lips on yours, the heat of his body pressed against your own. When you finally broke apart, you were both breathing heavily, your chests heaving as you fought to catch your breath.
Chuuya rested his forehead against yours, his eyes searching your face for any sign of regret or uncertainty. But all he saw was a mirror of his own desire, a hunger that matched the fire burning within him. Slowly, a smile spread across your face, your eyes sparkling with mischief and promise.
"Well," you murmured, your voice low and husky, "that was unexpected."
Chuuya chuckled, his thumb brushing along your bottom lip. "But not unwelcome, I hope?"
You shook your head, your smile widening. "Definitely not unwelcome."
And with that, you pulled him back in for another kiss, the wine forgotten as you lost yourselves in each other, eagerly stripping down to your skin as you both stumble onto the couch.
As you stumble back onto the couch, Chuuya reaches for the bottle of wine once more. He pulls back just enough to tilt your head gently, exposing the smooth expanse of your throat. With a mischievous glint in his eye, he tips the bottle, allowing a thin stream of the dark liquid to trickle onto your skin, tracing a path down the elegant column of your neck. The alcohol drips further still, pooling on the swell of your breasts before continuing to fall into your lap.
You squirm at the sensation, a shiver running through your body.
Chuuya sets the bottle aside, and leans forward, licking a broad stripe up the side of your neck. A quiet moan falls from your lips as his mouth latches onto your heated skin, sucking softly, the sting of teeth following close behind. He follows the trail of spilled wine with his tongue, humming in appreciation as you squirm and whimper beneath his attentions.
Reaching the edge of your breasts, he pauses, and looks up at you through long, thick lashes, a devious smirk gracing his features. Without warning, he tugs your dress down and dips his head, his lips latching firmly around your nipple, sucking harshly. You gasp and arch up, your hand flying to his hair, tangling in the silky strands, tugging lightly. His tongue swirls over the pert bud, and he pulls back, blowing a soft puff of air across it. You shudder at the sensation, the cool air against the wet skin making you even more sensitive.
Chuuya continues, his mouth moving to the other side, and the heat that has been building in your core threatens to boil over.
"Chuuya, please..." you whisper breathlessly, tugging his hair, pulling him up towards you. He obliges, moving upwards to capture your lips once more, his tongue delving deep, exploring the cavern of your mouth. He shifts, his knee parting your legs, pressing firmly between your thighs.
The delicious friction sends a spark straight to your core, and you cant your hips upwards, searching for more.
His hand slides from your waist to your thigh, fingers trailing lightly along the sensitive flesh.
Your hips buck upwards again, and he grips you, squeezing gently, urging you to keep moving. He breaks the kiss, leaning back slightly. "Go ahead, beautiful, I want to watch you," he murmurs.
You meet his gaze, his eyes dark with lust.
Swallowing hard, you lift your hips again, grinding against his knee. Your hand fists in the fabric of the couch as you set a slow, steady rhythm.
Chuuya hums, pleased, and trails his fingers higher, dancing along the edge of your underwear, teasing you. You gasp, speeding up, feeling the tension coiling low in your stomach, the heat radiating from your core.
His fingers dip inside, sliding along the seam of your panties, and your breath hitches. He strokes you through the thin fabric, applying pressure right where you need it, and you cry out, your head falling back, the coil winding tighter.
"That's it, princess, just like that."
Your hips snap faster, the coil about to burst, and then his hand is gone.
"Ah!" you whine, your movements slowing.
"Don't stop," he growls.
He yanks your underwear to the side, his fingers circling your clit, his other hand grabbing your hip, urging you forward once more. Your legs quiver and shake as he presses against you, the tension in your core so tight it's almost painful.
His fingers slide lower, one digit slipping inside your soaked entrance, curling and rubbing as his thumb continues to flick over your clit. Your hands claw at the couch, your breathing heavy and ragged, the pressure building.
Chuuya slips another finger inside, pressing deeply, stretching you, his pace quickening, the friction so good, you're teetering on the edge, but not quite enough to push you over. Your hips cant forward, desperate, chasing your release, and his thumb rubs in quick, tight circles, the coil winding so tight you're ready to snap.
"Chuuya, please! Ah... Please, I need you!" you beg, your voice broken and ragged.
He removes his hand from your hip, and grabs the hem of your panties, tugging them down, tossing them carelessly behind him. He reaches for the button of his slacks, but you're already moving, scrambling to straddle his lap. Your hand covers his, pushing him back, and you fumble with the zipper, pulling it down. He raises his hips, shoving the fabric down, and his cock springs free.
You take him in hand, giving him a few strokes, and you feel his breath hitch.
"God, you're beautiful," he breathes.
Your eyes lock, and there's a tenderness in his gaze, a moment of sincerity and vulnerability, a stark contrast to the lust and desire from moments before.
Your heart skips a beat, and you lean forward, kissing him softly. He moans, deepening the kiss, his tongue delving deep, and his fingers tangle in your hair, pulling you closer. You line him up, and sink down, slowly, letting him fill you.
A moan escapes your lips, the feeling of him stretching and filling you so good, and you break the kiss, panting. He rests his forehead against yours, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you flush against him, holding you tight.
"You're amazing," he whispers, placing a kiss on the tip of your nose.
You giggle softly, and lean in, kissing him deeply.
You start to move, a slow, steady rhythm, and his hand slides down to grip your hips, guiding your movements. He rolls his hips up, matching your pace, his cock hitting so deep, and a soft whimper falls from your lips.
You press your forehead to his shoulder, and pick up the pace, your hands sliding around to grip his shoulders. His hands move to your ass, squeezing and kneading, helping you move, the tension in your core mounting, the coil about to snap.
You roll your hips forward, the delicious friction sending sparks up your spine, the knot in your stomach tightening, and your movements falter.
"Ah! Chuuya... I-I'm so close..." you whimper.
"Yeah, princess? Do you want to cum?"
"Y-yes," you breathe.
"Then, do it, let go for me," he growls.
With a loud moan, your head falls back, your body tensing, every nerve alight with pleasure, as the coll winds so tight it can't take anymore, snapping, the tension exploding throughout your body. Your legs tremble, and you cry out, your hips jerking erratically.
"Yes, fuck, that's it, baby, good girl," Chuuya groans, his thrusts quickening, his cock twitching and pulsing, the feeling of your walls clenching and fluttering around him, taking him over the edge.
His grip tightens, and his hips jerk, thrusting up hard, as he comes with a grunt.
You both stay there for a moment, holding each other, panting heavily, as you come down from the high.
After a moment, you lift off him and collapse into his lap, completely spent. He wraps his arms around you and chuckles softly. "Wow," he murmurs, "that was... incredible."
You can't help but grin. "Mmmm... you're not so bad yourself, mister." You tap him teasingly on the nose.
"Oh yeah?" He raises an eyebrow, a glint of mischief in his eye. "Just wait 'til next time. I'll really blow your mind."
"Next time, huh? Awfully confident, aren't we?" you joke, nestling contentedly against his chest. "I suppose I could pencil you in..."
He laughs and pulls you closer, dropping a tender kiss on your forehead. "Sounds like a date."
#bsd x reader smut#bsd smut#bsd x reader#bsd chuuya#chuuya smut#chuuya nakahara#bungou stray dogs chuuya#chuuya x reader#bungou stray dogs smut#bungou stray dogs x reader#bungou stray dogs#bungo stray dogs x reader
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╔═══════════════•⊰•°༄༚
{Stamina}
☰[Main list]•⊰ Obey me!
How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last...
╚═══════════════•⊰•°༄༚
• Barbatos' stamina is quite immense, and his prowess in bed is legendary.
• When it comes to physical intimacy, the demon can go on for hours, lasting at least a few rounds before needing a break.
• He's also experienced in various positions and techniques, always being eager to please MC in every possible way.
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Blindfolding his unsuspecting lover was always a thrill for Barbatos, knowing he has full control over all their senses.
He slowly unties their hands and feet, taking his time to ensure they remain submissive and vulnerable.
With you're bound and blindfolded, Barbatos begins to run his hands over your body, skimming over every curve and contour.
The coolness of the silk against your skin heightens your senses, making you quiver in anticipation of what comes next.
"Barb..."
"Shhhh...."
Slowly, he lowers himself down between your legs, his hot breath ghosting over your most sensitive spot. As he begins to tease and caress, his tail dipping inside your folds, you arch their back in pleasurable response.
"Do you like it, MC?"
"Hmmm...."
Barbatos chuckles softly. He thrusts his tail, driving it deeper inside.
Each slow, deliberate thrust sends shivers of pleasure down your spine, making you moan incoherently.
As he feels your body trembling under his control, Barbatos increases the pace of his tail, driving deeper and harder inside you.
His fingers continue to work their magic on your body, bringing you ever closer to the edge of ecstasy.
With a swift motion, Barbatos replaces his fingers with his throbbing cock, driving deep inside you.
As Barbatos' length pound against your walls, you moan louder, begging for more.
Their hips rise off the ground involuntarily in a desperate attempt to find purchase against this intense pleasure.
As your cries reach a fever pitch, Barbatos increases the tempo of his thrusts. He pulls back slowly, allowing the head of his cock to tease your entrance before plunging back in with renewed fervor.
Feeling your orgasm building, Barbatos increases the intensity of his thrusts. He growls low in his throat, his body shaking under the force of his own release.
Your hot fluid coats his cock , fueling his desire for power and control.
Barbatos' thrusts become harder and faster, driving him deeper inside you.
Barbatos pulls his length out, leaving behind a trail of his seed.
He steps back, surveying the scene with satisfaction.
The room is filled with the scent of your mixed fluids and sweat.
"My dear, have I left you thoroughly satisfied?" He asks, his voice dripping with honeyed sincerity.
||[🅂tamina]||
━●━━━━━━────────
⇆ㅤㅤ◁🅁ㅤㅤ❚❚ㅤㅤ🅃▷ㅤㅤ↻
#𝙽𝚂𝙵𝚆–[💋]#𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜–[🍬]#𝚂𝚞𝚋𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜–[📩]#obey me x reader#obey me fluff#obey me x mc#obey me hcs#obey me smut#obey me barbatos x reader#barbatos x reader#barbatos smut
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your ex, mark, is the fertility doctor you're counselling to. when he knows your husband can't be a dad, he takes this matter into his own hands and replaces his duty to get you swollen and nice
rating: 18+. mdni.
content: infertility, noncon, doctor!mark x reader
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mark told you about an upcoming fertility surgery years ago, providing updates as it progressed. you didn't seem nearly as excited as he was, only entertaining him to keep the smile on his face. but apparently, you had been paying more attention than he thought. you were eager for an appointment, voice leaking with desperation as you spoke to him. mark sighed, agreeing to meet you after hours.
after years of being in a relationship with you, knows how desperately you wish to carry a child. talk of it picking up as you relationship came to an end. your breakup wasn't messy, but it was not a mutual decision. you had lost feelings for mark, feeling a stronger romantic connection for someone else. and it turns out it was him you dreamed of having a child with.
you greeted mark politely, giving him a fleeting hug as you took a seat. you dodged his small talk, reverting the topic to your issues with fertility.
it wasn't you, you were as fertile as they come, and mark came to that conclusion very quickly. he eyed your figure. you looked as good as you did then, curves soft and enticing. you fiddled with your fingers as you shared details of your sex life. shyly answering his questions as he asked for specifics. the pangs in his chest faded quickly as he recalled his own experiences with you, inserting himself in the place of your husband as you recounted information. he pictured himself mounting you, cumming as deeply inside you as he could, elevating your hips as you tried to make his seed stick.
so, mark told you there was a different surgery. it's really effective, he'd said, less invasive. spewing bullshit statistics at you as you nodded eagerly. "though, sometimes it can take several tries," he trailed his eyes down the sides of your neck.
"is it expensive?" you asked, playing with your fingers, "we're a little short on money."
mark paused for a second, imagining you sat at a dining table, open notebook before you as you worked to manage finances. you never had to do such a thing when you were with him. "no, no. not at all."
you smiled widely, "really? how soon can we start?"
mark booked you an appointment you in as soon as he could, adjusting his own schedule to accommodate yours.
mark dismissed his assistant early that night, telling her to take the night off, minutes before you were due to arrive. he prepared sufficient medication to you pliable. you asked no questions, like you didn't even notice the empty office as you followed him inside and down the long hallway to the room he had spent so long preparing.
he turned his back to you as you began to awkwardly undress. he could see your hesitance reflected on the computer screen facing the bed. he pretended to look over the papers he had pulled together, lazily detailing the bullshit procedure. you weakly called his name as soon as the thin hospital gown draped over your body.
mark swallowed as his eyes landed on the peaks your nipples, collarbones poking above the crooked collar of the gown. mark distracted himself by searching for a vein in your arm, guiding you until your back was flat on the uncomfortable mattress. "gonna need you to spread your legs for me," he whispered as your eyes began to fall. you oblige, exposing your heat to him before the medication set in properly.
mark all but rips his pants off as he spots the wetness within your folds. your natural scent hits his nose and your warmth meets his hips as he forces his thick cock into your pussy, rolling his hips in ways that would have your eyes rolling and your beautiful whimpers echoing through the hospital, but more importantly, his techniques would increase the chances of your falling pregnant. he pushes his cum deep inside you, making sure not a single drop is wasted.
he suggests that you come see him again, claiming a higher success rate. you agree, drowsy and sore, unaware of what truly happened.
#tw infertility#tw noncon#starring… mark !#screenplay…#[NEO] play…#dark!mark#mark lee x reader#mark lee smut#mark lee hard hours#mark lee imagines#nct fanfic#nct hard thoughts#nct 127 smut#nct dream smut#nct 127 hard hours#nct hard hours#nct x reader#nct dream#nct 127#nct#mark lee
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Stress Relief
Satoru Gojo x Fem! Reader
Warnings: smut, 18+, MDNI, praise, degradation, breeding?, oral (male recieving), face fucking
Word Count: 1,446
Summary: Gojo comes back home to you after a long day and mission. He uses you as his stress relief…and you love it.
A/N ello ello, I know this might not be the best (I finished this at 3am lmao) but it’s a start and i’m so hyped for all you Gojo lovers to read this!! I’m absolutely on a chokehold from that man!
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Ko-fi
It was silent in your apartment. Satoru was out on a mission as always and probably wouldn’t be home for another hour. You were trying to relax and watch the TV but anytime he’s out on a mission you can’t help but stress, each night he comes back,,,,he’s not himself. The stress of each mission is slowly tearing away at his positive personality and it’s heartbreaking to witness.
Being the most powerful modern sorcerer comes with a reputation of never failing. Being the best. If it takes Satoru even slightly longer to complete a mission it was as if his world was breaking apart bit by bit each time.
You were just about to go lay in bed ready to sleep as the clock ticked 3am, until you heard the rattle of the door opening. You almost broke an ankle breaking into a sprint through the hallway to see your boyfriend standing at the door.
“Toru?”
He was covered in blood, not sure if it was his own or someone else’s. His blindfold still covering his eyes, desperate to look you move closer hesitantly. Each step echoed through the apartment as your slippers hit the cold wooden floor. Gojo stood still, breathing heavily.
Reaching up you take off his dark blindfold, letting his snowy hair fall down. His normal sparkling bright blue eyes are dark and full of lust. Like an animal that caught sight of its prey.
“Toru, are you ok?”
Your hand grazes his cheeks and his hand flies up and grasps your wrist tightly. Staring into your eyes he growls out.
“I’ve had a very-very rough day my love, so what I need you to do…what you’re going to do, is get undressed, go into the bedroom and lay there waiting for me ... .understood?”
You nod your head weakly, biting your lip as you feel the wet patch beginning to form in your pants. Walking to your shared room you leave behind a trail of your nightwear leading through the hallway. Whenever Gojo was in this mood you knew your purpose…and you loved it. To be used by the most powerful sorcerer would be most girls' dream, but only you got to live it, and for the rest of your life.
Laying on the bed you hear Gojos footsteps getting louder and louder as they approach the bedroom. Squeezing your legs in anticipation as you felt the bed dip with your boyfriend's weight. His hands lay above your head supporting himself above you. He looks down all over your curved body and lets out a moan with a smirk and cocky laugh.
“Look at you, so perfect, so fucking beautiful, all mine”
You shiver as his hands grapes onto your sides and squeeze as he trails them down the rest of your body. It’s not often Gojo deactivates his infinity technique given that he is pretty wanted by a lot of the cursed spirits that roam japan. But for you, he’d do anything, you were his oxygen, his purpose, his plaything.
His slender fingers reach your heat as he slides them through your folds and you both moan at the feeling.
“Mmmm fuck, all nice and wet for me, haven’t even done anything to you yet” he lets out a breathy laugh “what is it that gets you so worked up, is it my touch? Or is it my voice”
“B-both”
He laughs at your pathetic stutter.
“Wow I really do have you all worked up, good.”
The bed rises as Gojo gets off the bed. He begins to undress, he kicks off his shoes, and tears off his outer shirt. Painfully slowly as if to tease you, he knows what he’s doing, the anticipation of seeing his god-like naked body seemed to go on forever.
Once he gets down to just his boxers you can feel your own drool drip down your chin, it will never not take your breath away at just how big he really is. His hard cock desperate to be freed from his boxers.
You sit up at the edge of the bed, wordlessly begging him to move closer and he does. You pull down his boxers exposing his cock, the red tip soaked and dripping with precum.
As if it were instinct you instantly take his cock into your mouth, tasting him and moaning around him. Gojos hands fall into your hair as you bob your head onto him.
“Fuck, didn’t even need to ask you, just like a whore you just get on with your job huh? Sh-it darling so fucking good with your mouth” He moans loudly.
He thrusts his hips into you, forcing you to take all of him down to the balls, small gags escaping your lips as he hits the back of your throat. At this point you don’t need to do anything as Gojo has grabbed onto your hair moving your head for you, fucking your throat, using you.
A mix of your drool and his precum now coats the floor beside the bed as he pulls out of your throat, grabbing your chin forcing you to look up at him. Your face covered in spit and your eyes watering from your gags.
“You’re my fuck toy aren’t you darling, get to use you for stress relief after a hard day at work”
You nod your head agreeing, wanting, needing him to continue using you. He lets out a laugh as he pushes you down onto the bed. Climbing on top of you, you can feel his cock grazing your clit. Gojo crashes his lips onto yours, instantly pushing his tongue down your throat, tasting himself on your tongue. Both of you let out a moan, the sounds vibrating against each others lips.
He swipes his cock up and down your folds before thrusting into you with a growl.
“Fuck, so fucking tight for me, f-feels so fucking good baby, you’re mine, you belong to me and no one else. Who do you belong to, who does this pussy belong to? Hmmm nhhggg”
“Y-you Toru belongs to you all for you and only f-f-for you FUCK” you almost scream as he picks up his pace.
The sound of your skin clapping together echoing round the room, both not caring who hears you and you moan loudly with each thrust. Gojo’s eyes are filled with drunk lust, the feeling of your walls squeezin around him is almost too much for him to handle.
He flips you over so your ass is in the air. Your face pressed down into the pillows, muffling your noises as he re enters you with a slam. You reach your hand down and start circling your clit with your finger.
“Mmmmhhfff are you touching yourself baby? Yeah, such a slut flicking at your clit as I fuck you hard, keep going baby you’re squeezing against me with every movement, feels so fucking good”
You can feel the tip of his cock hitting your sweet spot. You just know he’s bruising your insides with how big and hard he is. The thought makes you even more weak, the fact that your limps tomorrow will show everyone just how well Satoru Gojo can pleasure you, just how much he uses you.
It’s not long before you’re both almost at the edge, both pulsing and silently begging to cum. But you know you shouldn't’ even dare, not without Gojo.
“M’gettin close Toru, gonna fucking cum nnnhhhgg please, please can I cum, i-i’ve been so good please”
Gojo keeps thrusting in you with an animalistic growl each time, driving you even more crazy.
“Cum with me darling, come on cum with me as I fill you up uuugghhh” he moans out
With one final thrust you both reach your climax with a scream and groan. Gojo paints your insides with his cum as you soak him and the bed with yours. Your eyes are heavy and body weak from being thrown around and used. The very feeling you love each time, to feel so used.
Gojo collapses next to you on the bed. Both of you are breathing heavily. You watch as his muscled chest rises and falls with every breath. Sweat drips down his forehead as his hair sticks to it.
“You’re such a good stress relief my love, you have no idea”
“Glad I can be of assistance” you laugh out breathlessly.
Gojo chuckles as he pulls you close to him, laying your head on his chest, he leans down and kisses you gently on the head. You look up and kiss him, smiling like an idiot, bathing in the fact that you know, Satoru Gojo is yours…forever.
taglist: @writing-wh0re @skarlettmikaelson
#gojou satoru x reader#gojo satoru#jjk#jjk gojo#gojo smut#gojo x reader#gojo x reader smut#gojo fluff#gojo angst#gojo x you#gojo x y/n#jjk smut#jjk fanfication#jjk fanfic#gojo fanfiction#satoru gojo smut#satoru gojo fluff#satoru gojo angst#satoru gojo x reader smut#satoru gojo x reader#satoru gojo x you#satoru gojo x y/n#junitsu kaisen#jujitsu kaisen fanfiction#jujitsu kaisen smut#jujitsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader
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Cursed Lips Sink Ships
A/N: Nothin special.. Just out fave cursed speaker takin things a bit too far..
Toge didn't mean to. He swear on all that he honors the word just slipped from his lips. If any ones to blame it should be you. Two of you in a empty class room, supposed to be practicing a few techniques. That went out the window when you tripped, grabbing onto Toge's arm and taking him down with you.
He absolutely cannot recall how it ended up with you shamelessly writhing in his lap nude. One hand sloshing around inside your hungry lil puss while the other kneads your tit, deep blue manicured fingers massaging the soft flesh roughly as you moan out to him.
"Tooogeee! You see it? Don't look away, pussy's so wet for you. She likes you so much, huh? Know you like it too. Dont think I can't feel how h-hard your dick is. Bet it's as pretty as you are.. Mmmm.. Keep watching."
So he stares at you through the wide, long mirror adorning the thin wall. The sight and nasty filth spewing from your alluring lips makes his dick twitch and leak in his black slacks. Bad enough they're fucking drenched from the mess spillin outta you and he doesn't have a second pair with him.
"Doing so gooood, Toge. Listen like such a good boy. Ahhh.. Got me so close, gonna cum on my fingers so hard."
Fuck, he wants to see that. NEEDS to see it like he needs air. Toge just hopes he can hold his nut before then. It doesn't help that your ass repeatedly grinds slow circles on his cock. Doesn't help at all that you smell so good: like fresh fruit and blossoms and he doesn't know why that's so arousing.
"Ohfuckohfuck! Never felt this good before. Cause of you, Toge. All cause of youuu!"
Now he has to close his eyes for a moment, can't take the way your head leans back on his shoulder as you stare up at him in a daze. Body so soft, curves on display as you press against him sensually.
He doesn't understand how you think he can endure this. Just the sounds of your loud sloppy finger fuck is finna make him abandon this lil charade. He's bout to have the whole school hear the wails he can draw from your glossy lined lips.
"Open your eyes, Toge. Mmmfuck- gotta keep your pretty eyes on me, member? Eyes on me and n-no touchin. Then maybe I let you get a taste.."
Toge gulps, eyes opening as he squirms into the hard floor. His nails dig sharply into his thighs, hoping that's enough to keep from pinning you down and stuffing his face into your puffy brown folds.
"Ohhhh! Toge! Toge, I'm so close! You ready? Huh, baby? Ahhhfuh- wanna see me cum?"
Its cute how quick he nods for you, gaze so desperate as he stares in-between your legs through the reflection. So fuckin thirsty for it as you lose control in his arms, goosebumps covering his skin when your fingers rub neat little circles on your clit.
"Almost theeeere-"
'Come on, sweetheart.' Toge thinks. 'Cum for me. Lemme have it, y/n. Cum, cum, cum-.'
"Cum."
He doesn't mean to, the word spilling from his lips before he can stop. Cursed energy flowing out with it, compelling you to obey forcefully. The orgasm is so fuckin ferocious, forces your pitiful lil puss to contract around your fingers powerfully. It doesnt matter that you rip both hands from your overstimulated frame, still cumming like you got direct pressure on your throbbing lil button.
"P-plee-easse To! S-stooop! STOP!"
The amount of liquid that comes outta you is insane, bathing Toge's lower half as you drain your pussy on his clothed cock. You buck so widly in his lap, he has to grip your spasming body tight. Just cant take his eye's of your reflection, watching when you reach back to grip the hair at his nape to anchor yourself.
"Togeeee!"
Toge's so sorry, so so fuckin sorry. Can't believe he got caught slippin like this. He doesn't know how to help you more than covering up your hysterical shrieks with his palm as he cradles your body to his. Feels like Satan himself when he has to tense his gut to not buss at the scene before him.
"Salmon.. Salmon.." He whispers soothingly at your ear, apologizing over and over.
You cum for a full minute, the longest 60 seconds of your fucking life. Can't breath or see pass the tunnel vision as your sweaty frame goes limp in Toge's arm. Don't feel him shakin your body frantically and tappin at your warm cheek as he tries to wake you. You're completely outta it when Saturo clears his throat, knockin sharply outside the classroom door.
"Is everyone- uh.. Everything okay in there?"
#black reader#black fanfiction#black writer#all readers#all welcome#all women are beautiful#like and follow#like and comment#dirty talk#smut#finger my pussy#dubious consent#dub con#toge inumaki#inumaki toge#toge inumaki x reader#toge inumaki x you#toge x reader#toge inumaki x black reader#jjk smut#jjk x black reader#jjk x black y/n
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hello i love your weird doubled lineart can you please show how you do that
Of course! I kind of just wing my drawings, so it's mostly guess-work and just my guts telling me it looks good enough. Nevertheless I'll try my best to explain my process :)
Tutorial under cut!
Let's first talk about the basic types of lines and techniques! :0
There are three types of lines: single, double, and triple. The number of lines will dictate the line-weight and thickness! The more lines there are, the thicker the it'll look. The same applies for how far apart these lines are. We'll talk more about this later.
Now that we know our lines, let's learn how to use them.
Usually when I draw, converging, irregular, and overlapping lines are the most common. They're all very similar, you'll see. Standard lines rarely ever come up. Standard lines are classic doubles lines that are perfectly parallel to one another, and that's very hard to do unless you use specific tools (poly-line tool, bézier curve tool).
So, let's stick with our imperfect, irregular lines and look at this drawing.
You can see a fuck ton of examples of converging, irregular, and overlapping lines here. For example, the face stands out a lot more than the hands behind it, doesn't it? That's because the face is largely composed of closely packed together, overlapping and converging lines. Meanwhile the hands are mostly further apart doubles lines, or single lines.
It's okay if you don't see it, there's a lot going on in that drawing. Let's check out some simpler, hopefully easier to see drawings!
In the first picture, you can clearly see the converging/overlapping lines on the torso area of the hoodie. BUT you can also clearly see the separated double lines on the sleeves. The same goes for the circled areas in the second pic. You get what I mean now?
Irregular lines can also be used to represent shakiness, or general unsteadiness, like in this doodle below. You can see the "nervousness" being shown in the shaky, irregular lines of the speech bubble.
Converging lines can work especially well for folds on clothes, as well as semi-double lines.
But having double lines everywhere can make it a little hard for the eye to pick out shape and detail. That's when reinforced lines come in clutch (featuring @die-06 OC, Finley Albatraum :)
Just look at how much of a difference it made! Simply by outlining the outer edges of the most prominent silhouettes, I was able to add a bit more depth into the drawing.
Another fun little fact about double lines is that you can color in between the lines!
In this collab art I did with @froyocorp (featuring her OC, the Scavenger), it's a little hard to tell but I did the full drawing using the most standard lines as I could and making them as parallel as I could. In between the gaps of the lines, I filled it in with neon pinks, greens, blues and yellows to add a little more color :)
Anyways, hope this made any sense! Sorry if it didn't, it's a little hard to explain my art process. ily! <3
#asks#silly chatters#art tutorial#SORRY FOR @ING YOU FOR THOSE I MENTIONED- I JUST WANTED TO GIVE YOU CRESIT#*credit#my art
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A Guide to Navel Pleasure Part 3: Partner Play
Hiya!
It's all well and good making yourself bite your pillow playing with your own belly button, but what about the fateful day you find yourself about to indulge in a totally different person's navel?
FEAR NOT!
I have returned from the shadows to give you some ideas for how to make that special someone reach heaven through their belly button. Remember, this is all about COMMUNICATION and understanding. What's written here is largely subjective to my own belly button, so if something doesn't work don't worry! It's just as fun experimenting with belly buttons.
Firstly, you two need to get in the mood...
PART 1: LETS GET READY-READY
- If you plan on switching roles, make sure both of you are wearing appropriate belly button clothing. Otherwise, ensure your sub is dressed in something that fully exposes their tummy and belly button.
- Have a good, long discussion about your belly buttons and what works best in a solo environment. Do they have an innie or an outie? Do they enjoy a little bit of pain? Can they navelgasm? Are they comfortable with any other supplementary play (like nipples?).
- Have a photoshoot! Like I said in the last post, taking pictures of your belly button sets the mood in a uniquely sexy way. Get all their good angles, take close-ups, point out on the photos where you're going to ravish them...
Hot and bothered? Good. Grab a pen, it's doodling time <3.
PART 2: SPELLING BEE
I got inspired for this technique @buttonpics, and it's feels insanely good. You can do this one solo too, but doing it with a partner adds a whole other dimension, as you'll see.
- Lie your sub down, their belly button exposed and their knot ready.
- Now, softly plant the pen on their chest, letting them feel the cool point, and start to gently glide it down their tummy. When you reach their navel, skirt AROUND it slowly and go all the way to their waistline. Then, go back up, once again avoiding their belly button. You dont want them getting what they want right away, do you?
- Repeat the above step two or three times, or until you feel they're ready. The next time you reach their belly button, start to gently move the penpoint onto their navel rim and softly trace it, making sure to keep it firmly on the outside.
- As they more and more desperate, verbally begin counting down from 10. With each number, inch the pen a little deeper into their navel, still circling. By 1, let your pen dip onto their knot.
- Here's the fun bit: I want you to pick a couple of words in your head. It could be "belly button" or "navel" or "subby button" or whatever. Let your sub know that you have a word in your head, and they are to try and guess what you're spelling out.
- When drawing each letter, make sure you REALLY over-do it. For example, if writing the letter B, draw that first line up agonisingly slowly, then that first and second curve should be hitting as many folds on their knot as possible. Every letter should be exaggerated, making the navel-owner an absolute mess 😈.
- Give your sub little hints as you're writing, because it's quite hard to think straight when your sensitive belly button is being stimulated in such a way. Don't be too hard on them if they don't get it, this is all about making them feel as good as possible.
You can also do this same exercise with shapes, which has the bonus of you being able to colour it in when you're done (thinking about how that feels makes me 🤯)
PART 3: NAVELINGUS
The holy grail of belly button play, the thing that all owners of erogenous navels hope to experience one day, it's belly button licking. Done right, this can be probably the most incredible feeling. Therefore, it's important we get it right!
You may want to give it a good clean before diving in with your tongue, refer to Part 1 of this series for how to get them shuddering with a Q-tip. Also, make sure that your sub is either wearing a short enough top that it won't get in the way of your head, or no top at all. It's just an annoyance otherwise.
- Their whole stomach is your canvas. With your mouth you can lick, kiss, nibble, bite and suck. That's a lot of different sensations, so we're going to use all of them.
- Firstly, you're going to give their tummy as much gentle love as you can. Nibble adoringly up their sides, lick across their lower stomach, deeply kiss their middle while holding their hand, whatever feels right in the moment. Consider their navel a reward for sitting so still and being so good while you pleasured their belly, and only give it to them when they're ready.
- Once again, the rim is your first port of call. Start with a wide, flat tongue on their lower stomach and lick upwards, transitioning to a pointed, sharp tongue as you begin orbiting their navel. The immediate area around their belly button should be glistening with saliva. Another good move is to gently bite on their navel rim, your top teeth digging just a bit below the rim while your bottom teeth lightly graze their stomach.
- Your tongue isn't as precise as many of the tools you will have been used to using, so don't worry as much about targeting small folds and dimples. It also means you can't really tease their walls the same way you would with a pen or toothpick, so when you feel it's right to dip your tongue inside, feel free to do so.
- The motion that is right will be different for everyone, but for me personally up-down motions work a bit better than a swirling motion simply because it stimulates that central knot so much better. However, others may find that swirling motions are better because they're more sensitive around the edges of the knot, for example. This is your time to experiment with what your partner enjoys. If you hear panting, whimpering or any of the other tell-tales signs of pleasure, keep going.
- Suckling is a great one too. Softly absorbing their knot into your mouth lets you run your tongue around the underside of the knot, an area rarely explored and may get quite an explosive reaction. Slowly suckling for a while is also a great way to rest your tongue for a bit without letting up on the naveljob.
- It's possible that your partner will climax while you lick them. If they start telling you they're going to cum or you suspect they may be close, KEEP DOING WHAT YOU'RE DOING!!! No speeding up, no changing direction or technique, just keep it as it is. Keep licking through their orgasm too for maximum brownie points.
And that just about does it! I haven't got the most time in the world to write these so it's not as full of content as I may have liked, but I hope you enjoyed reading anyway! I'm considering combining all my current guides into a big google doc (plus loadss more) as one big belly button manual hehe, so stay tuned for that!
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Older Haytham/Pupil Reader Headcanons + Oneshot (SFW)
✧･ﾟ: Masterlist :･ﾟ✧
CW: Age Gap (All characters 18+), Mentor/Student dynamic, Dilf Haytham 🥴
Don't like, don't read.
- Maybe it was curiosity or a sliver of interest in the potential you displayed when Haytham took you in. For months it was rigourous training and dealing with his indifferent attitude. The Grand Master's methods were strict, harsh, and even as you complained or whined, he pushed you continuously. Hours of climbing, falling, slashing, hitting, kicking and hurting yourself on a daily basis were told through the many cuts and bruises on your body. Yet, you persevered, much to your displeasure and exhaustion.
- There was tension within the relationship between you and Haytham at first. He was at a point in his life where the years of pain and betrayal had permanently struck a frown on his face. There was little that could impress him nowadays. The only semblance of amusement he displayed was through the occasional offhand remark slathered in sarcasm. Those were the ones where you caught sight of his crow's feet crinkling and his lips curved into a hint of a smile. As cruel and mocking in nature as it was, it was also striking.
- Time proved to be an efficient remedy. Your training progressed and your technique only improved. Haytham got, well, sort of better and there was definitely a change in demeanour, a certain degree of respect shown towards your abilities however slight. It felt like you were slowly melting away at the ice around his heart with a tiny match, or that you were sprinting to catch up to him but were still leagues away from doing so. Funnily enough, you couldn't understand why you wanted to break down his walls. He was your mentor.
You've never seen your Grand Master angry before. Displeased or annoyed maybe, but the heavy frown on his brow is impossible to ignore and his grip on your arm is like a vice biting into your skin as he tends to the fresh wound on your shoulder.
Haytham doesn't bother to hide his disapproval as he grits his teeth, and you can see the way his jaw tightens when you go to speak, almost daring you to utter one word but you think the better of it and shut your mouth.
He doesn't look at you as his hands, larger and slightly rougher than your own, work quickly to tighten the bandage across your chest and over your shoulder a few times until it is secured well.
You finally work up the courage to speak but he's quick to cut you off.
"Don't," He says, sharply, his grip tightening on your wrist to make sure you listen, yet not tight enough to bruise or hurt. "You were foolish today. I expected more from you."
There's a pause, a moment of silence and your head hangs low as you stare into your lap, watching your fingers twitch and fidget in guilt.
He finally lets go of your wrist with a deep sigh. "Though, I suppose it is partly my fault in believing that you would be ready. For your actions today, consider yourself excluded from any future assignments."
"But-"
"Until you can learn to do as you're told." He cuts you off, sternly, drowning out any of your protests, "For now, you'll be performing smaller tasks."
You know that he means keeping your nose out of trouble and helping others around the fort, and oh god, training. So much training that you feel like your arms will fall off any day now.
"Yes, sir." You mutter quietly under your breath, keeping your hands folded neatly in your lap.
You can sense him watching you, piercing eyes of dark grey flickering from your hands to above your torso, silently admiring the way the shadows from his office cut the light on the highest points of your face.
That was the last time you were alone with him, the last time you felt the tension of him keeping you put with his gaze.
Around a week later, you end up in the courtyard, a flintlock pistol fitted snug in the palm of your hand as you aim the barrel at your target.
Ranged combat was never much of a strength of yours but as the bullet cuts through the air and lands in the dummy's shoulder, you celebrate a silent victory and go to reload.
"Again."
You hear your Grand Master's voice from behind and then his footsteps sweeping through the blades of grass. There's a blank expression on his face as he clasps his hands behind his back in a sophisticated fashion and stands tall.
You stare at him silently for a second or two, surprised that he would be here to watch you train. You would've thought that he would be allying with his son again, for whatever reason that you're still ignorant of.
There's a nod from you, and you turn your attention back to the training dummy and raise your arms, both of your hands clutching the grip.
And once more, to your surprise, Haytham comes up from behind, his hands immediately making adjustments to your form, correcting your posture and relaxing your arms.
"With one hand this time." He murmurs lowly by your ear, and you can feel him breathing down your neck as he keeps your back straight against his firm chest.
You want to melt, to slump back against him if it weren't for his hand on your waist, the other gently holding your wrist and guiding the gun to aim at the dummy's head like you were before.
"Now go in for the kill." He says while you try to focus, your breath hitching in your throat when his lips lightly graze your ear and his finger sneaks around yours resting on the trigger.
A loud bang cracks in the air and you look up to see a hole in the dummy's head where the bullet has passed through, a look of pride gracing your face.
"I did it." You cheer quietly, relaxing the tension in your posture.
"Very good."
The praise feels like a kiss to your heart. And when you turn in his arms to look at him, he steps away from you, hands returning to their position behind his back.
"Keep that up and you'll have little trouble guiding your enemies to their deaths," He says with the slightest curl of his lips.
You don't allow Haytham to get far, your hand reaching out to pull him back in, gently. Your fingers curl around his upper arm and you step closer to him, yet he stands stiff, looking down at you with a raised brow. Curiosity fills those striking eyes of his, but there's something else also. Something akin to yearning, a hidden desire, one that tests the boundaries of a man who has mastered the art of control for many decades.
He lets you bring him closer, allows you to pick and pluck at his restraint bit by bit but even so, remains unflinching and firm, his gaze carrying a wordless signal for you to continue.
And you do. You're so close now that you feel nothing but the heat of his breath against your nose in the chilly air, the tension only becoming stronger with every inch that closes the gap. His features are clearer now, the finelines, the subtle scar on his chin, and dark circles that imply the lack of sleep over the past few nights, only further darkened by the shadow from his tricorn.
And then you sense it - his hand coming up and pressing into the back of your neck, guiding you forward until your lips meet.
Your Grand Master is slow and languid in his movements, deliberate. And there's confidence emanating from him as he takes his time in displaying his experience, tasting you in the kiss. It feels like you've finally chipped away at a large chunk of ice, that he's slowly allowing you closer to his heart. Either that or he's merely experimenting and you hope that it's the former. Regardless of whichever it is, you slump against his chest in his arms as they wrap around you, the smallest noise of delight leaving your throat.
He pulls away slowly, allows you both to come away for air.
"I trust that you'll speak of this to no one?" He murmurs quietly as he attempts to appear stern, if it weren't for the way his eyes displayed a certain want for more.
You don't answer him this time and bring him in for another kiss, and he returns it without hesitation.
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I'm not a social media manager, I can't keep up with trends. So, if I'm going to make videos, I'm going back to what I can do sustainably, which is to make short little videos about different techniques.
In this video, I'm doing an old hack that maybe some people might not be aware of. You can use a fork to make even quick pleats in fabric that are even width. You insert the fork into the fabric, curve facing away, and on the lowest slot. Then, twist the fork like you were putting spaghetti on it while sliding the fold up to your preser foot. Finally, hold the edged neatly in place as you remove the fork. Then sew!
There are definitely limitations to this technique. The size of your fork determines your width, so it doesn't always fit a pattern. But it can be faster than manually measuring and pinning, which is great when you have to make a lot of pleated ruffle trim. Which is me with Wailord. There's soooo many to make @-@
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clair de lune (m) - part three
genre; yandere, vampire!au, reincarnation! au angst, smut
pairing; ot8/f.reader (wooyoung/jongho/yunho focused this chapter)
word count: 17.9k
summary; you’ve finally gotten the chance to enter “clair de lune”, a infamous night club to see the band hiraeth. but why did you feel like their eyes only watched you?
note: this first deals with the subject of yandere. with that being said, a lot of the things happening in this fiction will be manipulation, gaslighting, and various other techniques displayed by the characters. if you are not comfortable with that, please do not read. warnings under cut
please don't reblog with harsh criticism!! not needed or wanted ♡
part two | part four
warnings; manipulation, explicit scenes, murder, blood (bloodplay, drinking blood), death mentions, cussing, gaslighting, age gap, injuries, dark subjects, emotional manipulation, lying, wounds, gunshot/wound, anxiety, smut: fingering, oral sex (f.receiving), unprotected sex, no aftercare
Chapter Three:
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he whispers against your lips, kissing the curve of your chin.
“It’s not right,” you respond back. He pulls you off the counter, your legs wrapping around his waist. “Should we stop?” You say through a breath, the grip his arms on you only making you more aroused. His arms only squeeze you tighter, a low moan spilling out of you.
“Fuck no.”
Yeosang’s lips run along your neck, pressing lightly against your skin. His fingers dig into your back as he guides the two of you down the hallway with ease. Neither of you think about someone stumbling into the hallway and seeing you, too occupied with one another. Before you know it you’re in his room. He lets you fall to his bed, holding himself above you. His lips are red, gaze roaming over you. Taking you in. He rests his knee on the bed as he touches your cheek, fingers still trembling. You cover his hand with yours, his eyes widening briefly. You lean forward to finally press your lips against his but he pulls back, shaking his head.
“I’ll taste like blood.”
“I don’t mind, Yeosang. I just want to kiss you,” you murmur.
He laughs in disbelief, running his fingers through his hair. “You’re going to drive me mad, pretty.” He presses his lips against yours, persuaded within an instant. You expected them to be cold, chilling. But it’s oddly warm, soft against yours. His tongue drags along your lips, hand slowly sliding beneath your shirt. He stiffens when he feels your fingers tug his hips, pulling him closer.
“Pretty,” his voice is frantic, hands everywhere on you. “You don’t need to do this-“
“Your hands aren’t dissuading me at all,” you grin against his mouth. He pulls back slightly to look at you. His eyes stay on yours. As if he’s looking for a drop in your expression, something that’ll make him stop. But you only stare up at him, chest rising and falling quickly, cheeks warm. “I want you, Yeosang. Why are you trying to find something wrong?”
“I…” his irises shake, hand trembling as it touches yours. You fold your fingers into his, humming in acknowledgment. “I don’t want to hurt you. And I don’t want to ruin anything that we have right now. I care too much about you to muddle our relationship.”
“Well,” you rest your eyes on him, trying to make him see that you’re fine. To somehow calm him down from his worries. “I do want you in any way that I can have you. When you broke the counter that was kind of hot,” you admit, moving your eyes away for a moment. “Makes me wonder a bit about my morals.”
His laugh breaks the tension, head resting against the curve of your neck. “You’re silly.”
“I like your laugh,” you add in, and he only groans into your neck in response. “It’s cute.”
He lifts his head at that, eyes narrowed. You can tell it’s mocked annoyance but the grin that threatens to break through the facade. “I’m not supposed to be cute to you, pretty,” He punctuates his sentence with a hard thrust into your hips. Your breath hitches as you feel his hard on through his pants. “Am I cute?”
“I don’t know, ask me again,” you tease. He slowly rocks himself into you, your hands digging into his shirt as he humps against you. “Yeo…”
“Hm?”
His pace does anything but slow down, picking up each time a moan comes from you. His hand slowly tugs on the loop of your pants. You let him lift them off, pajamas thrown somewhere across the room. His lips drag across your skin as he leans over you. His fingers are cold, ghosting against your thighs. He slowly pulls them apart, eyes on yours as he does so. Kisses pressed against your shirt-covered stomach, belly button, thighs. Just above you, until he stops. He closes his eyes, pressing two fingers into you slowly. His tongue drags down your lips, before dipping below, sucking your clit. You throw your head back, the cold making you shiver. He moves his fingers in and out of you. You moan, his eyes flicking back to you in concern. But you smile back, encouraging him.
“You’ve always been pretty,” he mumbles, slipping in a third. The sounds of your moans echo around the room as he pleases you, fingers curling against the familiar patch within you with ease. His plump lips wrap around your clit as you sucks in his fingers with little resistance. Your fingers slide into his hair, tugging it. He stops for a brief moment, groaning into you. The vibrations make you tremble, sucking in a breath.
Just as you’re about to fall over the edge into pleasure, he pulls away from you. The immediate empty feeling makes you whine, lids heavy. Yeosang stands, lifting his shirt. Your eyes flick to his body, seeing very prominent scars scattered across his body. It’d be a matter of concern if you didn’t remember that he was a pirate. He dealt with a lot in his life.
“Can I?” His fingers rub the lining of your shirt, eyes flicking between yours. You nod, and he slips it off slowly. His eyes immediately land on the scar on your chest. You see something strange flick in his expression. Self-consciousness rolls through your body. He meets your eyes, smiling. “You’re pretty.”
“Doesn’t feel like it,” you say softly. Without another word, he slowly leans down, placing a kiss on the hand that covers the scar. “Yeo…”
“You’re pretty, y/n. A mark on your skin isn’t going to change that,” he slowly wraps his arm around your hand, moving it out of the way so he can see it. Without fail, his tongue drags along the mark, a moan falling from your lips. He pecks the end of it, small kisses leading back to your lips. “Always pretty for me.”
You’re not sure when he took off his pants in the middle of the haze. But you can feel how his cock rubs against your leg, precum decorating your thighs. He slowly moves off your body, hand wrapping around his length. It’s a little above average, though it is pretty just like the rest of him. He rubs his thumb across the head, licking his lips slowly as he looks at you.
“Ready for me, pretty?” He tilts his head as he looks at you, slowly stroking his cock.
“You’re beautiful,” You say, smiling up at him. His eyes widen slightly at the compliment, cheeks coated with pink. He matches your grin, leaning down and pressing his lips lightly against yours. “You’re always so pretty for me,” you say. You can feel how his body shakes at the compliment. His cock twitches against your cunt and he groans, pecking the curve of your neck.
“I’ve wanted you for a while,” he whispers, “Right when I saw you in the red room. I’m happy that I finally get to have you.” You try your best to concentrate on his voice, feeling the ridges of him brush lightly against your clit. “Do you want me, pretty?”
“I want you,” you whisper. He slowly lifts himself up, caging you between his arms. “I want you, Yeo.”
Yeosang’s red eyes darken, almost pitch black. He presses himself into you, and you tremble. He continues his slow descent into you, eyes on yours. He presses his lips against yours, trying his best to distract you from the stretch. He shuts his eyes, shoving himself into you in one even stroke. You feel full, clenching your cunt. He lets out a shaky breath, gaze moving to where you’re both connected. You can tell by his expression that he’s holding himself back, swallowing slowly.
“Ease up on me, pretty,” He mumbles, rubbing your arm. You let go of him after a moment, and he lets out a breath, slowly dragging his cock out of you. His eyes look back down, seeing your arousal coating him. Your hands reach up, pushing him against you again. He chuckles slowly, a slow kiss pressed to your temple. “Can’t wait to make love to you.”
Before you can say a word, he sinks back into you. Your soft moans fall off your lips as he moves in and out of you, the rolling of his hips hitting yours with ease. He runs his tongue along your neck, hips not faltering once. You can feel how much he’s pacing himself, the clench of his brows and the strained veins in his neck.
“You can go faster,” You breathe, and he shakes his head.
“I don’t want to go faster, I can hurt you.”
“You won’t hurt me,” you say simply. The words strike him, concern flashing in his eyes. You furrow your brows, reaching up your hand to touch his cheek. “You won’t hurt me, Yeo.”
“I won’t,” he whispers. He leans down, grabbing both of your legs and placing them on his shoulders. His pace quickens, hips becoming bolder as he collides with your cunt, the squelching sounds echoing around the room. Yeosang doesn’t seem to care about how loud he’s being, groaning as he stares at you, filled with him.
“All of this, just for me. No one can ever have you, see you like this,” He whispers. His fingers drip your thighs, lips sucking on your skin. “No one else sees you like this,” He grunts, stroking relentlessly. “You’ll look so beautiful filled with me, smelling like me.”
“Yeo,” His name falling from your lips only encourages him. You struggle through your gasps, and he smirks as drool falls down your cheeks, your eyes moist and head thrown back. “Don’t stop.” His teeth bite your skin lightly. You notice how sharp they are, different from how you see them. Canines almost twice the size they usually are. But he doesn’t puncture the skin, presses his lips to your leg, pace quickening. You hear the strain of the bed, hoping that it doesn’t break.
His muscles strain, veins prominent as he revels in the feeling of you around him. His hips seem to only go faster and faster, cock moving in and out. The slap of his skin against yours echoes around the room, his moans loud. You can feel how hard he is inside of you. If you weren’t so filled with the thought of him, you’d be scared that he’d rip you apart with how fast he’s going. Though you know that he wouldn’t. Yeosang cares too much to do such a thing.
“Pretty,” he whispers, gaze meeting yours. He’s panting, gaze on your neck. “Can I…” he trails off, thinking. “I…”
“Drink from me,” you say simply. He shakes his head through the cloud of arousal, tongue dragging across his pointed teeth. “You won’t hurt me, Yeo. I know you won’t.”
“I…” He meets your gaze, moving between your neck and your lips. “I won’t hurt you.”
“I trust you.”
His chest rises and falls. He keeps up the merciless pace with ease, mouth open as he pants, eyes not leaving yours. The slapping of his balls against you only pushes you closer, the rise of your arousal coming once again. It’s much quicker this time. He seems to sense it without your words, letting your legs fall, pressing himself into you.
“Cum for me,” Yeosang says. He grips your hips as he slams into you, his pumping pace making you see stars. His teeth brush against your throat, and you moan as you reach your high. “I love you.”
-
The breeze stings your cheeks harshly, the wind tasting of salt as you climb up the steps. You know it isn’t your own body, it’s her, but the feeling is jarring. You stomp loudly on the last step, letting out a brief breath from tiredness and glancing to the side. It’s quite dark, the skies clouded. You dig into the pocket of your vest, a small blade resting between your fingers. It’s warm from your skin, shining from the lanterns that line the bow.
“We told you to rest,” A voice next to you says.
You turn to him, your gaze shifting upwards to meet his eyes. Despite how daring Yunho’s look is, the scarlet shocks you momentarily. You don’t let it show in your gaze though, expression cool. It is still Yunho, you ponder. Even if he has changed. So, you reach up to trace his chin, pulling back promptly when you feel how frigid it is. He furrows his brows at that, taking a step forward. Without pause you take one back, holding a hand up so that he does not follow.
“Are you well, Rose?”
“It is I who should inquire that,” you say, swallowing deeply. “Is this… choice of yours irreparable? Are you unable to be as you once were?”
"Why?
The question is simple. How a one-word answer can hold so much is beyond you. But you can only stare up at him. The feeling of love is oddly mixed with fear, hurt.
Disgust.
"You're not you any longer," you say, voice hushed. As if you were keeping it away from the others. Just between the two of you. Yunho's expression drops as your words settle, flicking between your eyes. You don't dare catch his gaze, knowing that it will only hurt more. "I cannot love you when you are not even alive."
"Look at me."
"No."
"Rose, please look at me."
"Your eyes aren't the same. I can only look at you with terror, Jeong Yunho. And I fear that is the only emotion I will feel until you are well again."
"Rose," His scoff is a bit amused at your wording. You take a sneaking glance at him, watching as he runs his fingers through his locks. You look down just as he looks back at you. "I am well. I won't ever feel better than I do at this very moment. Will you never accept me as I am? Will you never accept the rest of us?"
You know your answer. You know how it will hurt him so, the words that you're about to say. But it will only wound him more if you do not meet his gaze while uttering the confession. So your eyes flick to his, wavering at the color staring back at you.
"I cannot love people who are dead, Yunho. I will mourn you. Mourn who you once were. But I will not stay on this ship longer than I must. The next stop will be my last."
"You... you don't mean that."
You nod solemnly. "A lie has never fallen from these lips."
"You might change your mind. I am sure that you will," His voice is persistent, desperately trying to peel your resolve. "Being together forever can change your mind, you can join us. The others wouldn't hate the thought either. Please think it over."
"Everyone I love is dead, Yunho. And I am not ready to join them in their fate," You're lumping them with your family, all who've perished terrible ends. "And I did not come out here to debate you. I am walking to take a breath, without onlookers."
His fist relaxes as he takes a breath. It's not what he wanted to hear, that you know, but he doesn't try to dig any further. Instead he nods, stepping away from you. You sigh in relief, the beating of your heart slowing down. The admittance of being afraid of him would never be said. But from his fallen expression, sad eyes, you might not even need to say the words. He knows already. It hurts to see how much it affects him, knowing that you'd never touch one of them again. But it is for the better.
Since they will be dead by your blade soon.
You straighten up in bed, shirt damp and body trembling. The strange glimpses of past memories continue to flicker in your head but it isn’t as coherent as your dream. You wipe your sleeve against your face, breaths shaky. She never wanted to be a vampire. That you could feel in your bones. But what changed? What made her switch her ideals, push her reasonings aside? Her decision was so resolute that you don’t doubt it for a moment. So why did she say yes later? Did she actually say yes?
Or was she forced to?
A cold hand touches you and you jump at the change of temperature, eyes moving to Yeosang resting just beside you. His eyes are open now, brows furrowed as he looks at you. He didn’t choose this life either. He wanted to die, to live normally. And he stayed because he wanted the chance to see her, you, again. His fingers tug you slightly, pulling you closer to him. You slowly lie down, letting his chilled arms wrap around you. They cool you down, making the hot room less so.
“Nightmare?” he asks softly, lips brushing your forehead as he speaks.
“Something like that,” you say, closing your eyes as your head rests against his chest. You shiver involuntarily, his arms stiffening. “Don’t pull away,” you add at the end of the sentence, already knowing what he’ll do. “I’m alright.”
“I don’t want you to catch a cold,” he murmurs.
“I won’t.”
There’s silence between you both again. For a second you think that he’s fallen asleep, until one of his hands reaches up, brushing your cheek lightly. You lift your head off him, shifting it to see his face. He still looks concerned, eyes flicking between yours. At this moment, if his eyes weren’t so piercing, you’d think he was normal. Hair messy, bags deep under his eyes. The pretty birthmark that you can’t help but admire.
“What was it that you saw?”
“Yunho,” you start. “She was speaking to Yunho about reversing his condition.”
“And?” It’s odd how easily he can read you, knowing that there’s more you’re not saying.
“And he didn’t give her an answer. He wanted to be that way forever, and he wanted her to join,” you shake your head, blinking quickly. “She wanted to kill you all, Yeo. She loved you, and yet she planned on killing you when she got the chance. I don’t know what to think.”
“Perhaps if she was successful in her plan, we wouldn’t be here any longer,” Yeosang says softly, picking a stray strand of hair off your cheek. “Some of us desire to be this way. The benefits don’t outweigh the cons for me, but the rest think differently. Yunho is one of the few who doesn’t mind living like this for the remainder of existence. I, on the other hand, once I enjoy this last life with you I’ll be leaving permanently.”
He says it so innocently, so simply, that you wonder if you’re hearing it correctly at all.
“You don’t have to keep your visions to yourself, pretty. I’ll be here to help you get through them, alright?” he asks, a soft smile on his lips. “I don’t want you to be burdened with the past without an outlet. The others might be a little hesitant, especially our Hongjoong, but I’m fine with speaking about it. Things happened that we can’t change. We just have to accept it and move on.”
“Then tell me about Hanse,” you say. Yeosang’s smile drops at the name, face hardening. “You all are hiding the past from me. I need to know it so that I can make my own decision on whether I want to speak to them or not.”
“They aren’t good, yn,” he says your name this time. His grip on your cheek is tighter now. It’s not enough to hurt you, but enough to keep you locked on his expression. “Speaking to them will only result in you being hurt. And we’d rather not have that happen.”
“What do you want me to do, then? When I leave here-” You’re looking away, not noticing how his eyes change at your words- “I will need to know how to protect myself. I can’t stay vulnerable and rely on all of you. I have to make the decisions on my own.”
“In due time,” Yeosang whispers. Your gaze moves back to him, his hand softening. He presses his lips against your forehead, “We will all discuss it together before you leave, so that you’re not blindsided by them.”
You sigh in relief, “Thank you.”
Fear crosses his expression once you turn away, tucking yourself into his body.
-
“You weren’t supposed to,” Wooyoung says, rubbing his elbow. “We talked about it, Yeo, nothing like that was supposed to happen for a while. At least not until she trusts us completely.”
“I don’t see the others walking on their toes around her,” Yeosang takes a sip of coffee, frowning at the taste. “And you expect me just to reject her because of a silly promise that we’ve made together? It happened, Woo. I didn’t think it would, but it did. Move on.”
“She’ll find out we’re lying about so many things, she’ll think you used her,” Wooyoung looks at him with worry. The thought of you staring in horror at what they’ve done doesn’t sit well with him. They want you, but not this way. Not without you knowing everything. Well, mostly everything. “What’s going to happen when she starts remembering things? None of us are good people, Yeo. We did fucked up things when she was with us.”
“We were pirates, we didn’t have morals,” San enters the kitchen, throwing his arm around Wooyoung. He shakes his body, tugging him further beneath his shoulder. There’s not much of a difference in height between the two, but San takes advantage of those centimeters often. “She’ll understand. That was hundreds of years ago. We’ve changed, gotten better.”
“Not entirely. What happened to that guy at the club?” Yeosang raises a brow, eyes on Wooyoung this time. “You talk of our past but you’ve just done something not even a few nights ago.”
“He looked at her,” Wooyoung narrowed his eyes. “Was I supposed to let that go?”
“Like you said, we left that shit in the past. Going around and killing everyone isn’t really going to help our case. And I slept with her not to manipulate her, not to use her. We just did it because we were both feeling the moment, and we had fun.”
Wooyoung purses his lips, “But killing that guy was fun. And now he’s not going to mess with anyone else. I’ve freed the world of a sinner.”
San laughs, letting go of his friend. “The others are going to be pissed. Can’t believe you killed a human because he looked at her. I can only imagine if he spoke to her.”
The conversations cease for a moment, until Yeosang speaks up. His voice is free of teasing, eyes on the counter as he says it. “I saw her chest.”
“Thanks for bragging,” Wooyoung snickers. San nudges him harshly, and he frowns, but says nothing. “What about it?”
“There’s a scar, right in the middle. The same place from before.”
Both of them look at Yeosang sharply, San the first taking a step forward. “She’s in a different life now. Why the fuck would she have a scar there?”
“Have you told the others yet?” Wooyoung asks. Yeosang shakes his head slowly. “Good. Don’t. We ask her first, see where she got it from. Then we take it from there.”
“Hongjoong would want to know.”
“He wants to know a lot of shit, doesn’t mean we’re going to tell him,” Wooyoung rolls his eyes, glancing at the pile of peaches on the counter. “Not now, at least. Not until we figure it out.”
“Then we’ll tell him?” San murmurs, Wooyoung nodding.
“Then we will.”
-
"Hi, pretty."
You barely give the man a glance, outstretched against the grass. It tickles your nose a bit as you stare up at the cloudy sky, waiting for the sun to beam back down. His footsteps get closer, stopping just next to your body. Seeing him from this perspective is jarring, especially when he already towers over the other men in this home. You haven’t spent much time with Yunho, often exchanging quick nods through the hallways, light touches whenever he walks around you to grab something in the kitchen. But words were rarely exchanged, small thank you’s or good morning’s. Nothing you can point out.
Yunho peers down at you, a brow raised. Still, you can’t help but admire him. He’s beautiful just like the others. "I take it that you're bored?"
"I haven't left for a few nights. So yea, just a bit." You rub your neck nonchalantly. Yeosang promised that there’d be no trace of his bite and he’s telling the truth. But you still worry a bit that the others can see a bit of it.
He laughs lightly, crouching down next to you. "You can leave whenever you want, you know. You’re not trapped here."
“There’s some creepy ass men out there trying to grab me, so I think it’s best to keep hanging out around here for a while, yeah?”
He shrugs, “Your choice, not mine.” He keeps your eyes, a small grin crossing resting on his lips. “I’m here if you ever need me.”
The memory from before flashes in your eyes. You can understand the fear that she felt, seeing those eyes for the first time. It makes you uncomfortable despite his kindness. Was he the one that turned her into a vampire? Did he orchestrate it all? He tilts his head, brows furrowed as he stares at you. You must be showing that same fear you felt before.
You swallow softly, moving your gaze away from his. "Don’t wait up on me."
“Are you alright?”
“Fine.” It comes out more aggressive than you’d like. You hope that Yunho doesn’t notice, but he does. He always does.
“Then why are you looking at me as if I’ll hurt you? What happened?” His words are calm, but his expression isn’t. “Please tell me. Was it a vision? Did it involve me?"
“It was nothing.”
“It was something for you to look as if you want to jump out of your skin-” he let out a breath, looking away from you. “I don’t want you to be afraid of me, y/n. That is the last thing I want from you. So please tell me what’s going on. I want to help.”
“Some things you just can’t help with, Yunho. And I’m not afraid of you, I’m just… afraid of the future. Of the past, of everything. I didn’t realize on that night how involved we would all be, and it scares me. I’m seeing things I’ve never imagined, seeing all of you in flickers of things I don’t remember but you do. So if I’m a bit reserved then please forgive me, I have emotions.”
“That’s not what I meant, I don’t want you to hide your emotions,” he says softly. “And I know this may be a lot. There’s nothing I can do but be here to help whenever you need.”
His response bothers you, but you don’t have the energy to argue. So you only nod. He stays only for a moment more, before standing and wishing you a good evening. You let out a breath once you hear the glass door close behind him, leaning up and off the grass. You eye the bench a few feet away, taking occupancy there instead. Perhaps it’ll give you enough of a distance from the house so that no one sees you.
“Oh.”
You look to the side, Jongho holding a book between his fingers. He rubs the back of his head, gaze away from you. In all honesty, you’d rather run into him than the others.
“I can leave, if you want. You look upset,” he murmurs, eyes still kept away.
His care is endearing, and you can only laugh. “I’m fine, Jongho. You can sit next to me if you’d like.”
He hesitates for a moment, before nodding, moving to the swinging bench. He sits on the very end of the opposite side. “Are you okay, y/n? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but it’d feel a bit strange to sit here and read my book while you look like you’re on the verge of a breakdown.”
You laugh, shaking your head. He waits for a response though, patiently.
“It feels wrong,” you start, the bench suddenly feeling a bit too crowded with the two of you sitting there. You’re thankful that Jongho gives you space to breathe, to think. His presence isn’t all consuming like the others, but a comfort. Even with the fear rising in your chest. “All of this between me and you all. I feel like I’ve been pushed into this situation without much of a way out. I could leave, but then they would find me. And I don’t trust Subin, not even a little. But being here with all of you, trying to create relationships in this isolated environment makes me feel like I’m being forced to like you. Like it’s a last ditch effort to save myself.”
“I understand,” Jongho says softly. “The others are a bit excited that you’re here, so they don’t really understand the meaning of personal space. I’ve noticed how they crowded you, so I haven’t been spending that much time with you.”
“I thought you weren’t interested,” he looks at you strangely. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that! You’re not obligated to be anything to me, Jongho. I hope my words don’t make you think that.”
His lip curves at your panicked state, laughing softly. “Is that what you think? That I dislike you?”
“Well not dislike, just not interested in getting to know me. Which, again, is fine. No one is obligated to like every single person they meet.”
“y/n–”
“I’m serious Jongho.”
“And I’m serious too!” He laughs, shaking his head. “I don’t want to overwhelm you with eight strangers suddenly in your life. It’s a lot, especially with everything else added to it. I know how I am, and I just took the same consideration with you. And even in this conversation I can see that you’re overwhelmed with everything that’s happening. I’m not pushing you into anything, and you’re not pushing me into anything. We can be friends in due time, and something more if you’d like. It’s up to you, okay?”
You blink.
“Jongho?”
“Hm?” He tilts his head, flicking to the next page of his book. He glances up at you once, before moving back to the text. It’s refreshing.
“Do you want to be friends with me?”
He chuckles softly, “I’d love to be friends with you. But you still look hesitant,” he says, passing you your fallen phone. You thank him, tucking it back into your pocket. “What’s up?”
“I just want to know how you feel, really feel, about me. Is there anything else? I mean, what are your thoughts?”
He closes his book, placing it to the side. “My thoughts about you. To play it safe, I do care about you, y/n. I know I’m not like the others, not outward with my feelings so easily. But I do like you. I like your presence around the house. I like how you fit in so easily with the rest of us. It’s like you’ve always been here, nothing has changed except the amount of groceries in the cabinet. But you, you’re good. And with a house full of killers and blood-suckers, it’s a nice change of pace,” he has a grin on his lips as he says the last sentence. “I want to be friends with you. I want to go anywhere you want. I want to be there for you. And if you want I’d like to be something more in the future. But that’ll come in due time. First, I need to know more about you.”
He holds up his book, “And I want to know if you like to read.”
His words melt over you, comforting your heart. “I love to read, Jongho.”
“Good,” he passes you the novel. “Because I just so happen to love to be read to.” You take it from his fingers, opening up the page that he dog-eared.
“Well I just so happen to have an excellent narrator’s voice,” you grin, moving your gaze back down to the page. You glance at him briefly. “The serial killer thing-”
“Was a joke. You’d think I’d actually admit that if we were?” he says, and you roll your eyes.
-
“She likes him,” Hongjoong says softly, sitting on the seats of his bay window. He looks down at the two of you, Jongho’s eyes closed as you read to him. There’s a smile on your face, stolen gazes every once in a while as you read. “What did he do?”
“Jongho isn’t hard to love,” Seonghwa says softly, resting against Hongjoong’s sheets. “He’s easy to talk to too. I’m sure he hasn’t gotten angry in his entire life. She needs someone like him to ground her. It’s good that they’re spending time with one another.”
Hongjoong doesn’t comment on it. Perhaps if he went about it a different way. If he just spoke to Yeosang alone, without her in the room, things would be different. He might be the one on that bench, the one you’re smiling at as you read. He knows that somewhere in the future you’d grow to care for him as well, but he can’t help it. He’s bitter. And it doesn’t taste all that good when he murmurs the word.
“She means the world to us and she doesn’t realize it,” he says. You laugh at something Jongho says, hitting his arm lightly. He pretends to be hurt, and you only laugh harder.
“I think she does,” Seonghwa pulls the blanket beneath his chin. He sighs as the fabric touches his skin. “At least some semblance of an idea. She wouldn’t be here otherwise. It will take time, Hongjoong. Now come back to bed, we have a long night ahead of us.”
“Ah,” Hongjoong glances once more. He hesitates just as he’s about to close the curtain. Your gaze is suddenly up, eyes on him. He can’t read your expression despite how easy it was before. You’re not angry at least, no, that he can tell. He wants to look at you longer, but it is early in the morning. So instead, he bows his head slightly at you. And what you respond back is so strange, he almost throws the curtains back open.
You smile.
-
The next few days were odd to say the least. Yeosang is still himself if not more so, his hands always lingering next to yours, quick winks and glances when you enter the room. In complete opposite to the way San interacts with you. The playful personality seemed to vanish since that night. He walks on his toes around you, avoiding you whenever the two of you enter the same room. Often kept himself with Hongjoong on purpose, knowing that you wouldn’t dare approach the man. That resulted in the others spending more time with you. In particular, Jongho. His soft personality compared to the others calmed your heart, helped you ignore the feelings that bubbled in your chest about San’s avoidance of you. In all honesty you should be glad for the reprieve, for a chance to have some time for yourself. There’s no reason for you to be so upset about it.
None at all.
"Peach," Wooyoung leans forward, hand holding the pick between his fingers. Your gaze is glued to them as he strums, humming. They curl around the frame of the bass guitar, long and slender. His hands are large, spreading across the surface of the instrument with ease. Then they snap. Your gaze immediately moves to his eyes. A wide grin rests on his lips, brow quirked. "I called you. Didn't you hear me?"
You did, just a bit. Your mouth just decided not to respond. Or you completely missed everything after his one word. "What's up?" Wooyoung asked you to join him in his room, listen to him practice. In all honesty you were just stuck in your thoughts, filled with too much going on around you to focus.
"I asked," he wipes off a piece of dust. "If you'd like to come watch us play tonight? Hongjoong, San, and Yunho aren't going to be there until later. Need a bit of motivation since half of us will be gone in the beginning."
"Why aren't they going?"
"Blood bank. Jongho is running low. He can't go because he's still a bit iffy when it comes to blood. It does him good to avoid those places. And someone needs to watch over you.”
“I’m not a kid.”
He laughs, rolling his eyes. “Trust me when I say that I know, completely. After the last time you were out, everyone’s been on edge. Just want to make sure you’re alright. And I doubt Jongho will let you leave his eyesight now,” he shrugs, placing his bass back on the stand. You try to ignore the way he slowly takes off his rings, placing them in a ceramic tray sitting on the side table.
“So what do you say? I’ll even teach you some chords,” he wiggles his brows. You purse your lips, thinking. You’d feel bad making them feel bad, so you nod, sinking deeper into your seat. He lifts his fist, laughing. “Amazing. Now,” he waves his hand. “I gotta practice this song just for you, peach. Don’t want you hearing it until tonight.”
“What do you have up your sleeve?” You ask, pouting. “Don’t want to spend time with little ol’ me?” You’re joking of course, but he takes it differently. His fingers almost crack the wood, eyes stuck on yours. “Wooyoung?”
“You…” he sucks in a breath, rubbing his face. He looks into your eyes again, his groan louder. “Hell.”
You snicker, shaking your head. “You’re something else alright. I’ll see you tonight, yeah?”
“Right. Tonight.”
-
“What’s going on with you and that guy?” Mingi is the first to say a word to you, entering your room. You don’t pester him, the door is wide open for anyone to enter. You look up from the novel Jongho gave you, shrugging your shoulders.
“Which guy? There’s eight of you.”
“San, y/n. The one guy that was glued to every word you said. He doesn’t hang around you anymore. It worries me.” You appreciate his honesty in comparison to weeks ago, where he would just speak in we’s rather than I’s. But his truthfulness isn’t exactly what you were prepared for; blunt and without thinking twice. “Hongjoong asked me about it too but no one really knows. We usually fix problems within a day but it’s way past that now. Did something happen?”
“No…?” You phrase it as if it’s a question, thinking deeply. “I don’t know? I mean, we were fine. Then something happened to him while we were talking about Hongjoong. All of it is just odd, and I still can’t wrap my head around it. I do want to speak to him, but he’s with him all the time. Just haven’t gotten the opportunity.”
“I can ask for you. San is stubborn sometimes, but I’m sure he’ll come running if he thinks you’re worried.”
“No, no. You don’t have to, really. He’ll come to me when he’s ready. And if he doesn’t that’s fine too, I only have a week left and the magic will be gone. Then I’ll be able to go home and we don’t have to worry about broken relationships,” you say simply, giving him a small smile. The worried look on Mingi’s face slips, something strange residing in its wake. Something you can’t quite pick out. “Mingi?”
“We’ll work it out,” he says simply, standing. “I have to prepare for the show. And I heard you’re coming tonight,” he smiles. The odd look is gone, a part of you wondering if you just imagined it. “So I have to make sure I’m up to your standards.”
“I have none,” you snicker, shaking your head.
“And that is a standard in itself,” he turns on his heel, leaving you alone in your room.
Something strange is going on, with all of them. It wouldn’t bother you as much as it does if you weren’t so in tune with their patterns. Everyone is acting normal, too normal. The slip in Mingi’s facade makes you wonder what exactly you’re missing. Sure, you’re going back home soon. But they can meet you whenever they like. But what exactly is happening? You tuck your book in your bag, standing up to shut your door to get dressed. Should you even go to their concert? A bad feeling just bubbles inside of you at the thought of being there tonight. Though, the safest place is with them. So you look through the closest, hesitating at the outfits. They’re all…
“Got I was fucking sexy as hell,” you murmur, grabbing the first one you see. It’ll fit perfectly with the venue, a bit too perfectly. You sigh and without another word, get dressed.
-
It fits a bit snug but you aren’t surprised by that. It’s unlikely that you’ll be the exact same size that you were then. You walk through the halls, the tapping of the steel toe boots echoing through. You hear the guys in the kitchen and follow their voices, hands sweaty. You stand next to Seonghwa as he speaks to the others, unaware of your presence for a brief moment. Just as he stops laughing, Yunho is the first to spot you across the room. He drops the cup in his hand, eyes widened. You’re surprised to see him at all, Wooyoung telling you that they wouldn’t even be there until later.
“Fuck me,” his voice is low, blinking quickly. The others follow his gaze, many of their expressions matching his own. It’s an old pirate outfit of yours, most of it tight leather that hugs your body. You grabbed the overcoat to hide at least some of it to appear decent enough while traveling to the club, but their expressions tell you that it didn’t exactly hide everything. The stares start to get to you, hands clamming up.
“You’re beautiful, doe,” Seonghwa says softly, hand reaching up to brush against your cheek. “Don’t take our silence for distaste.”
“The complete opposite,” Mingi agrees. His outfit is quite similar to yours. In fact, you’re sure it’s almost an exact replica, except he wears looser slacks compared to your tighter ones. He knows it too, a small smirk lining his lips. “You’re always pretty to me.”
“Missing one thing though,” Wooyoung reaches over the counter, walking over to you. His fingers tremble as he hands you the pirate hat. You take it, placing it on your head. He groans, running his fingers down his face. “I… I need to go. To Clair de Lune before I explode.” He turns on his heels, his face burning. You hear the front door slam, leaving you with the other men. Hongjoong and San aren’t in the room, probably already gone.
Jongho’s eyes linger on the jewels resting against your neck, saying nothing. Their silence is a bit overwhelming. Yunho moves around the rest, his fingers entangling with yours and leads you out of the room.
“She’s mine tonight!” he shouts to the men still stuck in the kitchen. You hold his grip tight, letting him walk you out of the home. The awkwardness from before is still there, but he pushes past it.
“Did I fuck up with wearing this? It’s too much, isn’t it?” You whisper. He laughs loudly, shaking his head.
“Oh no love, you just broke us. All of those men in there short-circuited seeing you this way. And I’m not faring any better in comparison,” he guides you to the driveway. A motorcycle sits there, two helmets resting on the seat. He holds out one to you but you widen your eyes, ignoring the gear. “And since you’re mine tonight, you’re also my partner on the bike.”
“Yunho, I am not going to die on a bike.”
“And I won’t let you die on it,” he rolls his eyes. “Too many things I want to do with you now for you to hurt yourself on it. I’ve been driving for a while. You can trust me.” He takes your hat off your head, tucking in the storage of his bike.
“How long is a while?” you slowly take the helmet from his fingers, trying to linger how small it looks in his hands in comparison to your grip. He smiles softly.
“The late 1800s. And they’re safer now than they were before,” he admits, putting on his helmet with ease. You haven’t worn one in forever, and this one is a full head one, completely different from what you’re used to. Yunho sees you struggling and takes it from your hands. He places it on your head with ease, a laugh falling from his lips when he sees you glaring at him through the front visor. He lifts it up, bending down so his sight is leveled with yours. “Kept an extra just in case you showed up again, love.”
“How romantic,” you’re sure he spots the sarcasm in your words, laughing loudly as he situated himself on the bike. He pats the back of his seat, gesturing for you to come closer. You hold a breath, slowly swinging your leg over the back seat. It’s large, you have to almost hop on the seat to get on the back. You’re not sure where to put your hands, fingers still sweaty. He grabs both of them with ease, wrapping them around his torso. You hold him tightly.
“You hear me?” His voice echoes in the helmet. You laugh, nodding quickly. “Can’t hear you if you nod, baby.”
Your heart tightens at the nickname. “Roger that, captain.”
“Hongjoong wouldn’t like that you’re calling me captain.” You can almost hear his grin through the words. “I don’t mind it though. Now hold on tight, it’s gonna be a jerk when I pull off. I’m going to try to drive as slow as I can, but we’re in a bit of a rush. Almost late to the party. Ready?”
“Ready,” You say back, pressing your body against his. His frame is significantly larger than yours, but you lock your hands together, closing your eyes. He starts the engine, revving it up before pulling off. You’re thankful that he stays true to his words; you’re used to cyclists speeding down streets, not a care in the world for anyone else around them. Yunho drives carefully for your sake, asking you over and over again if you’re okay. Soon, you’re laughing at the jokes he tells you through the helmet, his speed slowly increasing.
“Are you ready? Gonna speed up now so we can get there on time,” it’s still a request, an option for you to opt out if you’re too afraid. You appreciate the gesture.
“Speed on,” You say back. His laugh echoes in your ear. Without another word, he presses on the gas, speeding around the cars. Your grip is tight against him as he drives through, weaving in and out of traffic. Surprisingly not one car beeps at him, letting him cut through without protest. You feel how your hands aren’t as sweaty now, the adrenaline pumping through you, wind hitting your body.
Soon you’re in front of Clair de Lune, Yunho slows down as he parks in the back of the place. Patrons are lined up at the entrance still as you hop off the bike, stumbling slightly once you situate yourself. Yunho helps you take off the helmet, resting it on the seat. He passes you your hat. You thank him, tugging it back on your head.
“You handle it well for a first timer,” he says, running his fingers through his hair. He surprisingly doesn’t have helmet hair. Unlike you of course, your hands are not doing much to fix it. Thankfully they gave you the hat in the first place.
“Still pretty,” he says, eyes glazing over you. You feel your face burn at his gaze, dark red eyes finally resting back on yours. “Thank you for being my date tonight, baby.”
“Yunho…” you scold him, voice shaking. You’re not sure you could handle another ‘baby’ coming from him without collapsing. And that’s you being as not dramatic as possible. “Let’s get inside.”
He hesitates for a moment. “Before, when we were outside-”
“We’ll talk about it,” you assure him. He nods.
Yunho leaves you behind, squeezing your hand before running off to another room to get ready. You stand at the front of the stage, waiting patiently. Who would’ve thought that just a few weeks prior, you had no idea what this bad was, who these men were. Not that you know them well enough now, but it just feels different. Your hands grip the gates in front of you, watching as the lights dim low. They appear on stage in the blink of an eye. You spot Seonghwa as the main singer tonight, Hongjoong still on the drums and Wooyoung on the bass. San is to your far left, holding his guitar steady. His gaze flicks over the crowd, stopping once it meets you. Glance over your outfit, fingers gripping the instrument tightly, His jaw clenches, eyes darkening. There’s so much in his eyes, too much, that you have to look away just as they start the song.
The lyrics are sensual, Hongjoong eyes steady with yours. He keeps his rhythm with ease, drumsticks moving quicker than you can keep up. His pupils are dark as they linger on you. It’s overpowering enough that you’re the first to break his gaze, attention elsewhere. Seonghwa grips the mic, eyes closed as he hits a higher note. They open, moving to you. As intimidating as Hongjoong’s, you look away. An immediate glance over the ground makes you realize that all of them are trying to catch your eyes. The audience doesn’t seem to realize it either, their screams loud in the area. You move from the front, pushing through everyone to get to the back. Before you can get all the way back there though, a hand grabs your arm, stopping you. You think it’s one of the guys trying to get your attention until you notice how warm their hand is.
A man, very drunk, holds you tightly. You try pulling away from him but his grip only tightens, shouting something at you. It’s too loud to hear as you tug.
“Get the fuck off me!” You finally yell, struggling to remove him. His eyes seem to grow angry, fingernails digging into your skin. Before you can scream for help, you’re pulled away from his hold into another’s. The cool skin of theirs comforts you, eyes moving up to see who it is. Jongho stands there, holding you against his body as he glares at the man who was touching you. Mingi’s on the other side, pulling the man away from the crowd. They disappear in the masses, Jongho guiding you back into the red room. He shuts the door behind him, eyes looking over your body.
“He hurt you,” he utters, hands hovering above where the man’s fingers created crescent cuts on your upper arm. “He’s dead.”
“I’m fine, you guys pulled me out of it,” you reassure him. But he seems to only be seeing red, gaze stuck on your arm. You’re not sure what to do so you touch his cheek, trying to make him focus on your face instead. Almost instantaneously, his head leans into your touch, eyes finally meeting yours. “I’m okay, Jongho.”
“We weren’t watching you closely enough. We messed up.”
“Don’t blame yourself for a drunk asshole’s stupid behavior. Because I don’t.”
“We were supposed to be protecting you.”
“And you did. I’m safe.”
“Not as safe as you would be if we stayed by your side. That could’ve been anyone yn, that could’ve been one of Subin’s men. We overlooked you for a moment and messed up,” Jongho says softly, hand rubbing your arm. He doesn’t touch the cuts, just staring solemnly. “Your skin.”
“It’ll heal,” you say simply. “And it wasn’t so you don’t need to let that thought stay in your head, Jongho. I’m not angry with you. I’d never be. Just don’t go around killing people, okay? Be smart. You’re passed that phase of your life, right?”
His breath is shaky, taking in your words. “We don’t kill anymore.”
“You don’t. And you don’t need to, because I’m fine. And even if I wasn’t you don’t need to kill anyone.”
He doesn’t respond to your words, eyes flicking back to you. “The others are worried. I don’t want to leave you--”
The door slams open. Seonghwa is the first to enter, fists tight. His gaze is sharp, softening once he sees you. It tensions up, his nose flaring when he sees the blood staining your skin. Jongho takes a step back from you, the vulnerable man you’ve glimpsed gone within a moment. Seonghwa doesn’t seem to see him at all, pulling you into his arms.
“You’re okay, doe. You’re okay.”
“I’m fine, there’s no need for this whole show--”
More of them enter the room, overcrowding it. You just don’t see San, Mingi or Wooyoung. Yeosang is nowhere to be found either but you haven’t seen him since last night, so you’re not even sure if he even came to the club tonight. It worries you for the absence of the others, especially the way Mingi gripped that man as he dragged him away.
“You’re all making this a bigger deal than it is. You can continue to perform, I’m fine. I’m being serious,” you slowly let Seonghwa go, staring at the others. “I can bandage it up. Go back on stage, they paid to see you.”
“We give two shits about those humans,” Hongjoong scolds you, frowning. “Putting your hurt below entertainment is insulting. They can wait all night and I would care less. You are important to us, not them.”
You’re not sure how else to convince them that you’re fine, that you don’t need their coddling. So you move closer to Jongho, a bit away from them. “Fine. I will stay next to Jongho all night. No one else will mess with me then, and he’d be the first to stop them if they tried. Satisfied?”
“y/n…” Hongjoong sighs.
“She’s right,” Yunho murmurs. “Not that I prefer it, but we can’t do anything now. As long as she’s with one of us, it should be fine. We have to perform, we can’t just drop everything because we’re worried.”
Hongjoong’s eyes linger on your figure briefly. He doesn’t say anything, eyes flicking to yours, holding them. He only looks away when you do, nodding slowly. “Alright. Yunho, get Woo. We’ll continue the show. Don’t… don’t leave without telling us?” He waits for your nod, turning on his heel and walking back out. Jongho takes your hand, squeezing it lightly.
-
“Ah,” the impression on his face could be considered a deep pout, only if he didn’t look so irritating with it. Yunho avoided his gaze, even as the shorter man tugged on his biceps. They’re just outside the club in the gated alleyway, the cold air not affecting them in the slightest. “Yunho why aren’t you paying attention to me…” his whine echoed into the night. Yunho pulled away harshly, glaring down at Wooyoung.
“You fucked us over.”
“It was a mistake-“
“We didn’t need to kill him, Woo. And you know that. This was the farthest from a mistake.” He could only imagine how Hongjoong would react, seeing the blood staining their shirts. Yunho glances at the man in the alley, body paler than themselves. He lets out a deep sigh, looking at his hands. “And you made me dirty.”
“If it makes you feel better his blood was anything but tasty,” Wooyoung frowns, moving away from Yunho. He walks over, crouching over the body. “If it was tasty I’d at least feel a bit bad about killing him. Hey,” he turns around, eyes widening. “You ever think about y/n’s blood? How it tastes?”
Yunho’s disgruntled expression only deepens.
“Don’t give me that look.”
“We can’t drink her blood, Wooyoung. You know that.”
“Things might be different-“
“They aren’t. We made up those rules for a reason. Stop fantasizing about things that won’t happen.”
Wooyoung swallows slowly, grabbing the body’s arm and dragging it with him. “You’re going to hate what I have to say, then.”
“What?”
“Yeosang, he…” he trails off, grunting as he throws the body into the dumpster. Yunho knows it’s only to delay his response, he’s pretending to struggle. Yunho steps forward, grabbing Wooyoung’s arm and turning him to meet his gaze. “Hey-“
“What did Yeosang do?”
A lazy smile slowly forms on Wooyoung’s face, “He drank from her. And had sex with her. But you probably already know the second part.”
Yunho’s brows furrow, “He hasn’t. They haven’t done anything. You’re just saying things-”
“Am I?” Wooyoung tilts his head, still grinning. “He fucked her when we were gone, Yun. He told us. And he told us how he saw a familiar scar on her chest while doing it. And it isn’t hard to guess that Yeosang drank from her as well. He’s always been the weakest when it came to that. But if you don’t believe me you can ask them yourself. Not sure how well that’ll bow over with y/n, she’s a bit more sensitive in this life.”
Yunho lets go of him harshly, Wooyoung stumbling back. He still keeps that same expression on his face, watching as Yunho lets the information sink in. He can’t help it; it’s entertaining to see Yunho be himself. The persona that he’s been keeping up for so long shifting. Yunho’s jaw tightens, ignoring Wooyoung as he enters through the back doors. It hits the doorway harshly, a crack appearing.
Wooyoung pouts, walking over and running his finger along the aftermath. “Damn, someone seems upset.”
-
The night passed quickly. Jongho stayed by your side the whole time, not bothering to perform on stage tonight. Despite how quick you pushed away their worries, you were a bit rattled at what happened. The performance changed tonight, their notes sharper, mistakes made every so often. The crowd didn’t mind though, screaming their lungs out. Jongho escorted you out just as they were about to feed. The thought still makes you queasy, but at least they don’t kill them. You can almost scoff to yourself. Does that make it any better?
“You’re now my date tonight,” Jongho says, a small smile on his lips. You grin back. “Ready to go, y/n?”
You nod, sliding off your chair. He holds the front door open for you and you thank him, walking outside. The cool breeze prickles your skin, condensation mists only exemplifying it. You wrap your arms around your body as you follow him close behind, a sympathetic look on his face.
“I’m sorry I can’t warm you up, but the car heats up pretty quick,” he opens your door and you thank him, letting him shut it lightly behind you. The seatbelt clicks just as he enters his side. He presses the start button and immediately the heat hits your skin. You sigh softly, holding your hands up to the vents. He gives you a quick smile, clicking his seatbelt on. You can’t help but laugh at that, glancing at him from the corner of your eye.
“Think you need the seatbelt on?” you ask. He rolls his eyes at your teasing, the car slowly rolling down the driveway. He pulls out on the street, taking the familiar route home.
“It’s a force of habit. You would never guess how many times we’ve all gotten tickets for not wearing them. Seonghwa tinted the windows, so now we’re always being pulled over. Sucks,” he murmurs, hand wrapping around the stick shift as he adjusts, leaving the club behind.
Jongho isn’t much of a talker like the rest, singing softly to the song on the radio. You enjoy being around him; sometimes you need quiet. It’s a bit hard to get in a crowded home. You lean back into the seat, the heat finally sinking into your skin. You slowly turn your head, eyes on him. His features are soft, skin a bit tanned. His eyes flick to yours, matching the dark red hair of his. It’s long, tucked behind his ears. You’re getting used to their gazes, the scarlet not as frightening as it was before. Jongho’s isn’t as prominent either, a darker burgundy. He raises a brow, looking back at the road.
“Do I have something on my face?” he asks.
“No,” you start, adjusting yourself in the chair. “I was just thinking. If you, no, that’s not how I wanted to start it.”
“Take your time,” he adds. You side eye him, continuing.
“What I was thinking was that if we weren’t in these circumstances, if you were a normal human, I think we could have gotten along well. I’m not out there like other people, and you ground me a bit. Make me see things that I really can’t with the rest. Not that being with them is bad, but…” How could you tell a man that he comforts you without it sounding like it alludes to something else? You scoff to yourself, shaking your head. “I don’t know what I’m saying, just forget it.”
“y/n, I know you don’t like being reminded of the past,” he says, turning down a street. “But back then we were best friends. You were the first friend I had. No one wanted to talk to me. I was always alone. You spoke to me first and it was over after that. I couldn’t remember how my life was before you. You’ve always been kind, yea, and I enjoyed that. So please listen to me when I say that I prefer you now in comparison,” he furrows his brows. “Would that be… rude to say? I mean, it was you but not really. But you were very mean back then when you spoke about certain things. I loved you, yeah, but I like you now. You comfort me. It’s like I can speak to you about anything and won’t feel judged about it. So I understand what you’re saying when you say that you feel that way around me. Because I feel the same.”
His words are sweet, sure. Very sure. There isn’t one break in his words that make you think he’s not telling the truth. It scares you a bit, how easily he can express himself to you. You lean your head back against the car rest, staring at the side of his face. You can see home with him, if you just think about it. He glances at you, brow quirked.
“You alright?”
“Yea.” And it’s true. You feel safe with him, secure. He continues to glance, brows still furrowed. After the brief silence, he turns the opposite way from where the house is. “I thought we were going home?”
“Home can wait. I want to show you something.”
The drive is only a few minutes longer. He parks on a sidestreet, quick to open your side door and let you out. You thank him. It’s still a bit chilly as he hands you his own coat. You almost slip and tell him that you don’t want him to catch a cold before realizing it. The walk is only a couple of minutes more. His hand reaches for yours and you let him take it. He guides you to a platform. Slow steps you take, until your eyes stare forward, watching the city from where you are. The city lights sparkle in your eyes, Jongho gesturing for you to sit on a bench. All of it is old, very old, but you slowly sit down. It creaks a bit but thankfully doesn’t break. He keeps space between the both of you as you stare out at the city. Everything felt so small, so miniscule.
“We were on the ship most of the time,” he starts, eyes on the city. “Back then, we didn’t have the infrastructure we do now. When we arrived here, you took me to the top of this mountain and showed me the view at sunset. The way the lanterns lit the sky, the way the sun fell. It was one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever witnessed. Up here, on this rock,” he points to a rock just beyond the fence in front of you two, “You told me that you loved me. And that you were afraid. Afraid to care for someone so deeply that you couldn’t breathe. That night you confessed that you were in love with me, yelled it to the sky. Once you passed, I never came back to this rock. I stayed away because it reminded me too much of your death. Too much of what our love became. We didn’t think you’d come back, y/n. We thought that you were lost forever. So when I first saw you in that club again I felt that same scared feeling again. Of the unknown. But then you told me that you feel comforted by me.” Jongho turns to you, tears falling down his cheeks. “I.. I can’t imagine losing you again. I feel like the numbness will come back again. I’m fucking terrified of it.” He laughs dryly, wiping his cheeks. “I know this might feel like nothing to you because it’s your past life, but I don’t know what the hell to do. All I know is that I care about you, and you care about me. So that’s enough. Seeing that guy grab you, I wanted to hurt him. I wanted to but you said not to. It felt like I was going to lose you again in that moment, I could barely breathe-”
Without hesitation, you slide over, wrapping your arms around Jongho’s body. He tucks himself into you, sobbing into your shirt. You can feel your tears rolling down your cheeks. “I’m not leaving you anytime soon, alright? I don’t know what this feeling is between us, but I’m not going to abandon it because I’m scared of what it might mean. You have memories that I’ll never have, but we can make our own. I won’t be like that again, you won’t lose me like that again.”
“You can’t promise that,” he says, “It’s possible.”
“It is, but don’t cry stupid,” you laugh, matching the same one he forces out. “I’m serious, you’re breaking my heart. The past is just the past. We have to live now, Jongho.” You pull back, holding his face in your hands. It’s broken, completely. “So don’t cry, okay? Look, the whole world changed and yet the both of us are here now hundreds of years later. That has to count for something, right?’
He nods slowly, hand reaching up to cover your hand. He leans into your touch, your thumb wiping the tears. They’re hot, almost too hot against your touch. But you don’t mind it, you’re a bit cold anyway.
“The whole world changed and I still love you,” he admits, not meeting your eyes. “It has to count.”
You smile, “It has to.” You wrap your arms around him again, your sobs matching one another’s. “Now let’s go home.”
-
“We can’t kill him,” Seonghwa merely sighs at the suggestion. “That won’t end well for any of us.”
“We’re older than all of them. We can take them on,” Wooyoung shrugs, taking a sip of the hot chocolate you left behind before leaving for the club. His fingers are a bit too tight around the cup, holding it a bit too close to his body. “And it will finally end everything we've been stuck in. There's only a few of them left, it shouldn't be that hard."
"Any existence of vampires outside of us is solely my fault," Hongjoong says simply. "I bear that responsibility because it will never lie to one of you. I was lonely, and I made mistakes. And that's resulted in what we're undergoing right now."
"That doesn't matter," Mingi shakes his head. "They're loose ends. We will forever be in limbo as long as they're alive. It's an unfortunate fate, but if they didn't involve themselves then it wouldn't happen. They can’t take her away from us. I could care less about the promise that we made.”
“She’s going to remember everything at this rate,” Yeosang says. “She’s getting closer to the truth with each passing vision. Closer to how and why she was turned into one of us. It might make her distrust us again. A repeat of hundreds of years ago.” He can remember how your body felt, trembling in his embrace. You only let him hold you because you weren’t afraid of him. Soon, you might not even want to look at him again.
That’s the only thing that terrifies him.
His gaze moves up, noticing Yunho across the room. His hands are crossed, eyes stuck on his. It’s a bit eerie, expression blank. Yeosang looks away, perturbed.
“We won’t let that happen, but we can’t stop her memories,” Mingi says. “She’s going to find out how her family was killed.”
“Ah yes, let’s just say it out in the open, Mingi,” Seonghwa sneers. “Might as well yell out how exactly he did it. Shouldn’t be that hard.”
“Now’s not the time to argue,” Hongjoong points to the two of them. They glare at one another but don’t say another word, waiting for him to speak. “We figure out a way to get rid of them. But first, we have to prevent her from meeting with Subin again. Have her stay here longer.”
Wooyoung widens his eyes. “And how will we do that?”
-
You hang up, eyes still glued to your phone. There's no way. In your last week of being here your chance to finally be on your own is gone. Just like that, after a two minute phone call. You swallow slowly, thinking. You don't have enough savings to sustain yourself and find another apartment with a down payment. There's enough to help you survive a few more weeks without straining yourself on food, but after that… nothing. All of your applications for work have fallen short even with your experience. You're stuck where you are, and you hadn't the slightest idea on how to get yourself out of this. You're so stuck in your own head you forget the others are in the room, watching patiently.
"The water main break flooded my apartment," you confess to them, eyes flicking up to meet theirs. You just so happen to meet Hongjoong’s. He looks at you with empathy, the expression odd on his face. You're sure that he lacked that emotion until now. You rub your face, hands trembling. "I have nothing but the shit that survived the flood. Everything that isn't above two feet of water is destroyed. They'll let us back in within the week to grab our things, but I can't live there. I have no apartment."
"I'm sorry y/n," Yunho says. You feel his hand on your shoulder, squeezing it lightly. The cold does wonders to your body, your skin hot as you try to process what just happened. "We can go back with you, grab the things you need."
"I don't have a home anymore," you murmur. "I have nothing."
"As I've said before, doe, we'd do anything to help you. Just say the word," Seonghwa stares at you, biting his lip. "It's been a difficult month for you. But we will drop everything at the blink of an eye to assist."
"I don't know… would you mind if I stayed? A bit longer until I figure things out?" You already know the answer, know how much they've wanted you to.
"Of course pretty," Yeosang responds for the rest, nodding. "You can stay as long as you'd like."
“It won’t be long,” you add, glancing at the others. “But I can’t get into the apartment for the next week, so I’ll have to go and grab some things from the store-”
“I’ll join you!” Wooyoung interrupts, grinning.
-
The piles of fruits just seem to grow each time you enter the kitchen. You pluck one of the peaches off the top, taking a bite as you walk to the foyer and wait for Wooyoung. You didn't mind him coming with you; having company isn't the worst thing that's happened to you. And you haven't gotten the chance to spend time with Wooyoung. He remains an enigma, just like a few of the others. But there’s still that lingering thought. You know you shouldn’t get close to them, moreso since you’ll be leaving soon. But being friendly isn’t such a bad thing, right?
"Ready?" You lean against a pillar next to the front door, eyes on Wooyoung. He's barely dressed. Pajamas rested against his figure, a black cap tugged over his hair. You glance at the tattoo on his ribs, peeking through the sleeve hole. Without a word from him, he lifts his shirt. You turn away, almost choking on a piece of peach.
"You can look now, Peach," His voice is teasing as he says it. You know men, know him, so you don't turn back around. You can almost feel the pout staring at your back, the sound of fabric of clothing being pulled on his body. "Not even a peek?"
"Not one glance," you say, taking another bite. Before you can swallow, his hand appears in front of your face, taking the fruit away from you. You glare as he takes a bite for himself, several, before tossing it in the trash. Your hand is sticky as he pulls you through the door.
"I can't believe you ate my peach," you mutter.
“You might as well look like one since that’s all you eat,” he says back, passing by the garage. You’re a bit surprised that he’s not taking one of the many vehicles parked in their driveway, skipping right past it. Yes, he’s actually skipping and dragging you all at once. You’d find it annoying if he wasn’t grinning the whole time, laughing at the expression on your face. The atmosphere of the home was down because you are down, but being around him just brightens you up a bit. He exits the driveway, stopping at a nearby bus stop.
“You’re taking the bus?” You raise a brow, and he nods quickly.
“I haven’t taken public transportation in decades. So I just did a quick search and found some routes we can take to the center. It’ll be a while, but it’ll be fun.” You can tell he’s excited by the way he’s almost jumping where he stands, hands tucked into his front pockets.
“Do you own one of the cars in the garage?” It’s small talk, but you haven’t the slightest idea on how to start a conversation with him.
“Not really, I just borrow one of the other guys’. Yunho’s the one that has the bike and he doesn’t let anyone go near it. I rarely drive so,” he shrugs again, looking at you. “The bus seems fun enough, right?”
The ride was long. Wooyoung talked your ear off, commenting on everything that he saw. You barely get a word in, though you do enjoy the time with him. He’s more talkative than the others, filling the silence with a brief comment. Soon, you’re at the mall. You hesitate to step off the bus, realizing that he led the two of you to a luxury area. He pays no mind to your hesitance, taking a free sample of food, humming to himself.
“Wooyoung…” You look around the shopping center, the wallet in your pocket feeling heavier as you gaze at the stores. All of them are luxury brands, not one item from their fronts you can afford. Wooyoung chews on his gamja hotdog, a brow raised in your direction.
“Hm?” he says between chews, holding out the hotdog to you. You wave him off, taking out your wallet and showing it to him. His brows furrowed as he stares at it, glancing back at you. He hasn’t bothered to hide his eyes, the bright red blinking at you with confusion. “Why are you showing me your wallet?”
“I have barely enough to cover that hotdog, let alone a high-end store,” you gesture around the both of you. “Do you usually shop here?”
He shrugs, chucking the wooden stick into a nearby trash can. “Hwa-hyung brings me here sometimes to buy clothes. I thought it’d be the best place for you to get some things you need.”
“When I said shopping, I did not mean this,” you gesture around again. Your hand almost hits a woman walking pass and you apologize, bowing quickly before turning back to Wooyoung. He’s already several meters away from you, hands tucked in his pockets as he looks at a display. You rub your face before following him. Does he not… understand the concept of money? Hundreds of years and he just spends it on anything?
One day you wish you’re wealthy enough to just toss it away on useless things.
Wooyoung turns to you, pointing at the display in the window. Despite the mask covering his smile, his eyes scrunch up as he jumps on the balls of his feet. It’s endearing to say the least, and you can’t help but match his enthusiasm. It’s a display of a very pricey outfit. Without another word he pulls you into the boutique, letting go of your hand to find a shop attendant. You meander around the front, your body wincing when you see how expensive the clothing is.
"I found something for you, peach," Wooyoung says, fingers holding fabric between them. He hands it to you. "Try it."
"I don't want to," you try to hand it back to him, but he frowns, pushing your hand back against your body. "I told you I can't afford it. There's no use in me trying it on." Your eyes flick to the attendant standing just behind Wooyoung, her hands folded in front of her as she waits patiently. He follows your gaze before taking the clothing from your hands, pulling you deeper into the store. He throws the clothing on a seat next to you, gesturing for you to sit next to it. You hesitate for a moment, before following what he wants.
He rests on one knee, taking both of your hands in his. You're used to the coldest of their skin, a bit of a comfort more than you'd like to admit. His eyes crinkle as he looks at you, his pretty mole following their lead.
"I came shopping with you to find things you need. I never said you were paying for it," he whispers softly, tilting his head. "Why would I bring you to a place like this when you're unable to buy anything? I'm here to treat you, peach. That's why I wanted to come along."
"I can't–"
"You're struggling and you want me to pretend everything is okay with you?" His expression seems to break at his sentence. "I don't want to watch you like this. I know it's expensive. I brought you here so that you can find a few staple pieces for your wardrobe. I've been here dozens of times. The quality lasts for years, so you won't have to shop often for more and more things."
"This is too much," you say softly. "It's too much money."
"My pretty peach," he lets go of one of your hands, pulling down his mask. "We were pirates. We have enough money to cover anything you want, and anything we desire. And right now, I desire you–" he presses his lips against your knuckles– "to be cared for. So, let me take care of you."
His thumb rubs along the back of your hand, waiting for you to decide. If it was anyone else, you'd still refuse. Leave him abandoned in this mall and go back home– no, their home. The house. But he's staring up at you with hopeful eyes and you can't help yourself. So you cave.
"Not too much," you say. His grin widens. Using the leverage the seat provides, he pushes himself up with the cushions and sneaks a quick peck against your lips before standing. You're sure he knows the effect it has on you, your mind dazed as he helps you to your feet. He hands you back the clothing, pushing you into the fitting room and shutting the door.
"I'll be waiting out here~!" He sings the words. You stare at the dress in your hands, eerily similar to the outfit you just wore to their concert. It's nothing like the basics he said it was, probably just something he wants to see you in. You're not sure why all of your walls go down when you're around Wooyoung. They just do. So to only satisfy his curiosity, you undress and slip on the black dress. It flows against your figure, flattering. If anything he's very good at picking outfits. You take a deep breath, turning the knob and stepping out. Wooyoung waits patiently, his expression changing the instant he takes in your outfit.
"You look lovely, miss," the attendant says, smiling at you.
"Do you mind giving us a moment?" Wooyoung doesn't turn to the woman as she bows and leaves the room. Right as the door clicks behind her, Wooyoung stands, eyes roaming over your figure. “You’re pretty, Peach.” He says it so simply, keeping his distance. You notice how he clenches and unclenches his fist, eyes scattered. “Very pretty.”
“You think?” You turn around and look into the mirror. Your eyes flick over your body, until they land on Wooyoung.
“Of course, you’ve always been pretty, Rose,” Wooyoung stands just behind you. His hair is wispy against his cheeks, skin covered in grease marks from working in the orlop. His wear is more used, holes lining the seams. He steps closer as you gaze at him, approach hesitant. He’s always been reserved in his affections of you, as if you’d crumble beneath his touch if he dared approach you. Even now, your eyes wander to his, his deep brown ones flicking away from your gaze. A light pink coats his tanned cheeks, hand rubbing the back of his neck.
“Have you rested your eyes on me? It doesn’t seem like you can, my dear Wooyoung,” your tone is light, a smile resting on your lips as you stare at his reflection. “Is the dress that I wear dreadful? What a pity,” you pout, looking away for a brief moment to stare at your figure.
Your words pull him out of his embarrassment, concerned eyes widening as he moves closer. “Rose, you could never be anything but pretty. I am just… it feels like I am undeserving of your presence. I can call one of the others inside-“
“Now why would I desire to see one of them when I am with you?”
“Your words make me faint,” he admits, anxious laughter adorning his words. “It's because they’re much bolder than I. They can recite poetry and I can only express to you that you will never be ugly.”
His small speech leaves you at a pause. You’ve often pondered what he thought of you. Despite how garrulous he often was, Wooyoung never told you what he felt about you. It was sensible enough to assume that he adored your company from what he did express, but seeing him now flounder over his actions made him all the more charming.
Still, you laugh a bit. His cheeks flushed a deeper crimson from the reflection, a part of you feeling bad that you even made the sound.
“Can you come closer?” You say, turning around to look at him. He’s a bit fidgety in his approach, tensioning up when your hand touches his cheek. His eyes look at you. Wooyoung carries himself as if he isn’t one of the most alluring men you’ve come to know. Some semblance of yourself is glad he doesn’t know. He could use your weakness with ease and you would fall to your knees in front of him. Between all of the confidence you’ve built upon yourself, you would do anything for the eight men you’ve come to know.
Your thumb brushes against his high cheek, kissing the mole beneath his eye. His eyes flick to the mirror before looking at you.
“I’m filthy. You shouldn’t stain your pretty hands with me.”
“Wooyoung,” your smile slowly grows. “You’ve stained much more than my hands.”
“You’ve always been pretty.”
You blink, eyes moving back to present Wooyoung. He isn’t as unkept as the one you’ve just seen in your head, more confident in the way he stands behind you. Though despite the red of his eyes, you can still see a bit of the softness within them. He smiles when he notices your gaze. You can’t help but return the favor, thinking back to the words your former self said in her thoughts.
You suck in a breath, smiling. “You’re one of a kind, my dear Woo.” Somehow he makes you less confident in your words. Much like he was back then. His brows furrow slightly. Should you even have said it? Was it too much of a tug on his heart? You wanted it to tease him, but you’ve forgotten for a moment how much you mean to them. He might take it a different way than you planned.
“You remember?” he asks softly, moving closer to you. “You remember what happened back then?”
“Not entirely,” you watch as he's barely a few centimeters behind. He keeps your gaze as you speak, his hands slowly wrapping themselves around your waist. You breath hitches. “You were not as forward then as you are now.”
“Is that so?” He rests his head against your shoulder, careful to not let his weight burden you. “Well, I myself then didn’t quite know that I would lose you in just a few weeks. I told myself that I had more time, that you would fall for me once I learned how to be alluring.”
"You didn't know how charming you were, did you?" His hands stop moving, resting against your hips. You keep his gaze. "You're quite attractive, Wooyoung. Even with the shyness of before, " you turn around slowly, his head lifting from your shoulders to make your movements easier. You see how his focus moves to your lips, before flicking back to your eyes. As if he’s asking permission.
This is silly. You shouldn't be doing this, shouldn't let his words get to you. You’ve already overstayed your welcome in their home. Involving yourself deeper into their lives will only make it hurt more if you leave. No, when you leave. But even as your mind tells you this is wrong to do, his heavy gaze and the way his hands just rest against you--
This is bad.
A knock on the door interrupts you. Though Wooyoung doesn’t dare move from where he is. You’re the one that has to pull away to see what’s wrong, his fingers holding you tighter. The woman from earlier stands there, her eyes averted. You nudge Wooyoung harshly. He lets go slightly, the push a bit harsh in itself but he doesn’t seem to mind as he moves back. The woman finally looks up at the two of you. You’re a bit embarrassed to say the least. You rub your hands down the fabric, itching to run out of there as quickly as you can.
“I apologize for intruding, but someone said that they’re here to see you.”
“I booked the boutique for a few hours, there’s no reason for anyone else to be here,” Wooyoung insists, pulled out of his fog. He booked the place? You don’t get the chance to get angry though, waiting to see who joined you. “What’s their name?”
The door swings open, slow footsteps on the marble. The attendant bows, taking a step back to give them room. You don’t recognize him once he appears from around the bend, his hands tucked in his pockets as he glances between the both of you. Wooyoung does though, without a pause pushing you slightly behind him, eyes narrowed as he meets the man’s gaze. A playful grin rests on his lips, brow raised.
“Long time no see, Wooyoung. And y/n,” he nods at you, a slight bow. “You look well.”
“What the fuck are you doing here, Sejun? Did Subin finally let you off your leash? I can see that tearing off your limbs did no good since you’re still as cocky as you were before,” Wooyoung’s hand on your arm only tightens as he speaks. You’re not sure if this Sejun sees it, but you can feel how his grip quivers. Out of distress or fury, you’re not too sure. But whoever the man is, he’s indubitably part of your past. Which only means he’s bad news.
Seems like none of you will ever get a break.
“Treating your brother this way after not seeing me for hundreds of years? I mean, what feels like hundreds, of course,” he glances at the attendant standing in the back. Her body shakes, gaze stuck to the floor. You’re afraid for her, wishing that she wasn’t here while this was happening. The fear rises when you see how Sejun beckons her closer to him. He rests his arm around her shoulder, looking back at Wooyoung. “I’ve missed you, kid.”
“How are you alive?” He asks. “You were burned. I saw your body burning. I was the one that lit the match.”
Sejun pouts, head tilting. “You were always just a little bit thoughtless, huh? You really believed that a little fire could hurt me? It’s sad that your own family could just throw you away like that. But you should know, your little group is good at tearing apart families. Right, y/n?” His eyes move to yours. “Oh, you looked so jumbled up. Haven’t they told you what they’ve done?”
“Stop talking to her, you have no right.” Wooyoung’s jaw clenches, “And fuck off. You’ve already stepped out of line. I’m sure Hanse won’t be too pleased.”
This time Sejun laughs, pulling the woman closer to him as he does so. She pleads with him, rubbing her hands together. Sejun’s laughter slowly fades. You watch as his fingers slowly wrap around her neck, tears falling down her cheeks as she begs again and again.
“Hey,” you tug on him, anxious. “We’ve got to do something.”
“We can’t,” he says back simply. His eyes are unnerving as he looks at the scene, expression empty. You try letting go to go to her, but he pulls you closer to him.
“Wooyoung-“
“I’m not letting you anywhere near him, peach. Trust me when I say that he’s bad news. I’m sorry, alright?” His words go over your head as you look back at the two of them.
Sejun looks between you, fingers digging into her neck. She screams, clawing at his grip. But he doesn’t let go, even as blood spills to the area rug. You close your eyes, yelling once you hear her neck crack. The sound of her body thumping against the floor echoes in your ears, Wooyoung whispering apologies to you over and over.
“Hanse doesn’t give a shit about anyone but himself,” Sejun says. You still keep your eyes averted, tears rolling down your cheeks. “You were always pretty, even when you cried.”
“What do you want,” Wooyoung says again, holding you against him. “You’re crossing the line.”
“Oh, you have a line? Didn’t even know that was possible,” he snickers. “Just one thing I want, and you’re holding her in your arms right now.”
“Over my dead body.”
“Ah, do I really have to kill you too? Already got my hands bloody enough. I didn’t really plan on messing around with you today. She was supposed to be shopping alone,” Sejun sighs, shaking his head. “There’s always a problem with you.”
“She’s not going with you, Sejun. So leave, now.”
Sejun’s teasing grin drops, expression solemn. “I’ve been nice to you because you’re my brother. But I’m not asking again, Wooyoung.”
“Ah, and what do we have here?” Wooyoung takes a step back with you in his hold, eyes moving to another door. You follow his gaze, breathing in relief once you see who’s there. Hongjoong has his hands tucked in his pockets, Jongho and Mingi standing just behind him.
Hongjoong doesn’t look at you, but at others. A small smile from Mingi before he moves is gaze to Sejun, Jongho stepping around the body on the floor, moving next to Wooyoung and yourself. He doesn’t say anything, resting his hands on the small of your back.
Sejun eyes move around the room, a scowl forming on his lips. “Brought back up? Couldn’t handle your brother on your own?”
Wooyoung doesn’t say a word, Hongjoong slowly enters the room with Mingi by his side. There’s a strange look in his eyes as he stares at Sejun. “Still want to fight about this?”
Sejun narrows his eyes for a moment, before looking at you. “You’re going to be alone one day, y/n. They’re not going to be around forever. I hope you learn the truth about them, sooner or later. See you,” he turns on his heel, pushing Hongjoong’s shoulder harshly. You all watch as he exits the store, disappearing into the crowd. Just as you’re all sure he’s gone, Wooyoung’s hold on you drops, his body falling to his knees.
His fingers dig into the rug as sobs rack through him, almost dry heaving on the floor. You try to reach him but Jongho pulls you back, shaking his head. “He’s not himself when he’s like this. Just give him a second.”
You nod, moving away from Wooyoung. He lifts his fist, pounding it against the rug. You can hear the tile beneath crack as he hits it over and over, yelling. The sound is chilling, seeing him so distraught. Hongjoong is the one to move closer to him, crouching. Wooyoung wastes no time in grabbing Hongjoong’s jeans, ripping the fabric as he grips him. His eyes are red as he looks at him, body tremors rolling through him. You look away.
“Take her home, Mingi. Jongho, stay with Wooyoung and I. He’ll be okay, y/n,” Hongjoong looks at you, the look in his eyes making you believe the opposite. “We’ll see you later, yeah?”
Mingi moves to you, slowly taking your hand in his. Jongho lets go, giving you a small smile before moving next to the others.
“Want to get changed?” Mingi gestures to the fitting room. Your eyes move to her body only a few feet away from it. Stomach twisting, you shake your head. “Wooyoung paid for it already, just stand there for a second. Turn to the windows, love. I don’t want you to look more than you have to.”
You follow his instruction silently, looking out into the mall. There must be something that they did to stop people from entering. No one paid any mind to the boutique, not even glancing at the displays. Mingi is back in almost an instant, holding your clothes in a bag as he guides you out the shop. You hear Wooyoung’s pleas as the door shuts behind you. The music in the mall almost makes you feel sick when you listen, knowing that just a few steps away someone died because they were in the wrong place, at the wrong time.
“It’s not your fault,” Mingi says, squeezing your fingers. You look up at him. “There’s just bad people out there. It’s not on you what he did to her.”
“He came there for me, Mingi. This… this guy came there to take me. Why does everyone want me so badly? I…” your voice shakes, the image of her stuck in your head. Mingi listens attentively, guiding you through the parking garage. “I don’t know what to do anymore,” A thought runs through your mind. One that frightens you. But there just seems to be no other options. “Maybe if I-“
“No.” Mingi stops walking, turning around to look at you. He leans down so that your eyes are at his level. “Whatever you’re about to say, don’t. We will protect you, y/n. You know that.”
“I know that people are dying because of me, Mingi. That’s what I’m certain of. I can’t let this continue.”
“This was our mistake, not yours,” he touches your cheek. “I need you to understand that. We didn’t even know Sejun was alive, y/n. But we should’ve kept up with them, should’ve noticed something changed. That’s our fuck up, not yours. No one was supposed to die like that,” Mingi’s expression breaks as he looks at you. “She wasn’t supposed to die, alright? We know that, we do. But I don’t want you to put that on your shoulders when it’s not your fault. We… made the error of involving you in our lives again. There’s no turning back now, but that’s how it started. If we left you alone, they wouldn’t have found out. And things would be different. I know that you probably regret meeting us, and I’m sorry that we ruined your life. None of us wanted that to happen. I never wanted that to happen.”
You don’t like that he’s putting the fault on them, but you can only imagine how it feels hearing it from you. So all you can do is wrap your arms around his torso, tears staining his shirt as you embrace him. He matches your gesture, head resting on top of yours. The moment is brief, your arms dropping once he does. He wipes the tears from your cheek, a dry laugh falling from his lips.
“Feels like every time I speak to you there’s something wrong,” he sighs, closing his eyes for a moment. “It’s draining.”
“Guess that’s what happens when you’re friends with vampires,” you shrug, only causing him to grin. “I… I hope it was quick for her.” You don’t want to talk about it at all, want the memory to disappear though it just happened. But you can’t help it. “Who’s going to tell her family? What’s going to happen to her?”
Mingi opens the door for you, closing it softly once you enter. He walks around the opposite side and joins you, locking the doors. “It’s complicated. The others deal with this better than Jongho, but they’re preoccupied right now. We will leave the human there and call the police on prepaid numbers we bought several years ago under different names. They investigate. Our DNA isn’t traceable because of how old we are, and it comes up as an animal more often than not. We don’t clean up the scene, it’s too risky. I’m sure the three are already long gone from the boutique. Hopefully the police show up sooner rather than later; I’d rather not keep the body there longer than necessary.”
“Thank you Mingi,” you say simply. He nods, squeezing your hand once before putting the car in drive. You glance at him before focusing on the road, fear now still lingering in your heart. Sure, you’re afraid of Sejun. Of what his presence means now. Especially with Wooyoung’s reaction once he left. He looked as if his heart was torn from his chest. But the way Mingi answered your question bothered you. The way he spoke about her as if she was an object, so easily detached from what happened. Calling referring to her as just human, the body. Even speaking to him about how hurt you are, his empathy didn’t feel… authentic. As if he fabricated it to make you feel better. Or maybe you were just looking too deep into it.
You had to be looking too deep into it, right?
“Don’t lose yourself in there,” Mingi glances at you. “The mind can be a heavy place. It’ll spin you out of control if you don’t let it out.”
You’re not exactly in the position to tell Mingi that you don’t have confidence in his words. Especially being trapped inside of a car with the man. So you ask something else instead out of genuine curiosity. “I didn’t know Wooyoung had a brother.” Mingi’s fingers grip the steering wheel hard, blinking. “I know it’s a bit forward of me to assume otherwise, we all have families. But hearing that from Sejun was a bit surprising.”
“It wasn’t any less shocking to us,” Mingi’s voice is low now as he speaks. You’re only a few more miles away from the house, his speed increasing a bit. “I shouldn’t talk about him when we’re alone. It’ll only make the others angry.”
“All of you say that,” you suck in a breath. “This hive mind you all have isn’t reassuring, I’ll tell you that. Makes you seem untrustworthy.” You let your feelings slip slightly. “Not just you, the rest too.”
“We’d rather everyone be around when we tell you things. That’s it.”
“Or do you want them around so you don’t let anything strange slip?” Your voice is harsh, eyes still out the window. Your emotions are spilling out now, anger rising. “I really think you think I’ll just go along with anything you say, like I don’t have a mind of my own. I’m getting tired of this act of being kind to me so that I trust you. It’s not really holding up well.”
He pulls over to the side of the road, pressing harshly against his breaks and putting it into park. You turn to look at him, and his expression is no longer sympathetic. He looks angry, to say the least.
“Why the Hell do you think we’re manipulating you?”
“Take a wild guess, Mingi.”
He takes a slow breath, “I’m not trying to make you angry, y/n. I just want to know what’s going on.”
“Everything,” you turn to him. “The fucking house, the weird ass room with faces crossed out, the club, the other group of vampires, my past, the lying, oh my God the lying,” you laugh dryly, shaking your head. “It’s nonstop. Each time you all speak I feel like you’re just sugarcoating your words, dancing around the truth. I can’t even look at you. I mean,” you laugh louder this time, gesturing around. “The only one I actually believe is telling me at least some semblance of truth is Jongho, maybe Yeosang. Or San? It’s making a bit of sense why he’s been keeping his distance now. Maybe he doesn’t want to tell me the lies that Hongjoong’s been feeding you.”
Mingi stares at you, clenching and unclenching his jaw. He runs his fingers through his hair, eyes on the road. “I told you that Hongjoong isn’t some mastermind that you’re making him out to be—”
“Alright, say I believe that. Then who made the rule about not speaking to me about questions I ask? You? Yunho?” You press him.
“I’m not going to answer that.”
“Because you fucking know it’s Hongjoong. You know…” you shake your head. “Forget it. I’m done. I don’t care anymore about your feelings. You all can go cry about it in your fancy house with your expensive furniture. I’m getting my shit out of there, and I’m leaving.” Where? You haven’t the slightest idea. Your family isn’t in the city, you moved out here for a better life. One that just seems to be crumbling every hour.
For the first time, you see true shock on his face. He reaches out to you but you’re already opening the door, stepping outside. It’s cold, your body immediately tensing up as you walk down the sidewalk. Admittedly, it would be quicker to let Mingi drive you back. But you can’t even look at him without wanting to punch his face. The road is vacant though, your nerves rising.
“Let’s just talk about this when we get home, y/n. Please. Give me that chance.”
“No,” you stop, turning back to look at him. “No. And don’t try to convince me because it’s not going to work. I don’t--”
“Shit, y/n move!”
You don’t have a chance to figure out what’s happening. Mingi stands in front of you, a split second later, a loud pop echoes in the street. Mingi tries his best to cover your body completely, but you feel the bullet drag across your side, the two of you falling to the ground. You stare down at your hands, blood seeping through the cracks between your fingers. It’s bad. Even shuffling would cause it to open more, but you don’t have a choice. Mingi isn’t in better shape. He’s completely unconscious, dark red, almost black, blood seeping from his mouth. You feel the tears springing to your eyes as you move closer to him, shaking his body. He doesn’t move even slightly, eyes closed. There’s no way that you can tell if he’s alive or dead, the coldness of his body giving you no indication. But he has to be okay. He’s a vampire. A bullet hitting him shouldn’t have done as much damage as it did. You look around, eyes moving to a familiar bar just across the street. Without another word, you struggle to your feet, moving across the quiet road and in front of the bar.
The door to the bar swings open, his familiar tattoos lined across his arm. Your chest rises and falls, the growing realization that this is the choice you’re making. Your mouth runs dry as you meet his eyes, hand pressing against your stomach as you cough. He crouches down, head tilted as he glances at the wound on your side. Your breath hard, consciousness in and out as you meet his gaze. It’s odd how brown his eyes are in comparison to the others. You wish you could call one of the guys, but they’re too far for you to run to them. You might fall unconscious before then. His hand reaches up, brushing away the tears riddled on your cheeks.
“Mingi, he… I didn’t know where else to go,” you confess, gaze wavering.
Hanse’s smile stretches across his cheek. Without another word, he lifts you from the cement stairs, holding you against his chest. Your free hand wraps around his neck as he guides you inside. Your chest is throbbing, fear pulsing through you. You look over his shoulder, Mingi still lying on the ground across the street. Still, not one car has driven by. Leaving him alone in the dark night.
“I know, rose. I’m glad you’re finally back home.” Your eyes flick to his side, a silver pistol shining back at you.
No.
You look at him. His smile is eerie, laughing when he meets your gaze.
No.
He shuts the door with a kick.
tags: @revehosh @mrcarrots @belletiny @sansblkgirlfriend @hwadump @honeyedtalisman @atzcoke @glitterhongjoong @whatudowhennooneseesyou @marievllr-abg @arkive78 @dysftopia @kpopnightingale @wxnderingthoughts @jenniee-tm @hongshines @atinytease @multidreams-and-desires @yla-aira @wommypeaches @avantalem @youre-a-wallflower-charlie @toxicccred @xciiiomwliah @madelinelina @kirooz @a-tiny-teez @tenebrisirae @ageofjade @n0v4t33z
#fic: clair de lune#ateez x reader#hongjoong x reader#seonghwa x reader#yunho x reader#yeosang x reader#san x reader#wooyoung x reader#jongho x reader#mingi x reader#completely forgot the tags....#:D#me when you like instead of rbing: 🤬🤬🤬🤬👹👹👹👹😡😡😡
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Zen’in Naoya x Reader
CW: naoya, dub-con, non-con, lots of sexual tension as usual, just naoya being naoya
Naoya had always been prideful of his belongings. Everything had to be perfect, elegant and expensive. He would take great pride in choosing these belongings himself. And he knew he'd always choose perfectly. The interior designer he picked for his study? Perfect. His room, clothes, food and even his cursed technique were flawless too. He was absolutely perfect in every way. But the most beautiful and perfect possession he had chosen by far, had to be you.
You were just eighteen when Naoya took you off the streets and conditioned you to be the perfect maid for him. As long as you were around, he didn't have to lift a single finger. And that's exactly how he liked it. Over time, Naoya found himself growing surprisingly attached to you. All the stupid, dumb, cute little things you did unknowingly charmed him.
Like the way you'd press your thumbs to his nape before starting a massage. "There you go again, my pet," he purred one evening as you worked the tension from his shoulders.
"Does master prefer it elsewhere?" you asked meekly.
"Not at all. I simply enjoy your little quirks."
Or the way you'd carefully color coordinate the fruit you prepared for him each morning. "Why must you make even breakfast so aesthetic?" he chuckled.
You blinked up at him. "I aim to please, master."
He savored how you'd lean in close to help him dress for the day, letting his gaze linger over your gentle curves before growling, "Careful now, you tease. Or I may have to discipline you properly."
That evening at dinner, Naoya ordered you to pour his sake. He watched hungrily as you elegantly filled his cup, bringing it to his lips to sip. So perfectly trained. His eyes shamelessly roamed your body, coveting what little skin you showed. He'd already seen your naked form, though he'd never admit how.
Perhaps some minor uniform adjustments were in order to show off your luscious assets more...no, all those beautiful dips and curves were for his eyes alone.
Later, as you bathed him, Naoya relished your attentive ministrations. The way you dripped aromatic oils into your palms before massaging them over his taut muscles. Ah, there were those dainty thumbs pressing into the nape of his neck just as he craved. You really had memorized every inch of his body's landscape.
"Eyes closed again, pet?" he rumbled. "You know my form that well, do you?"
"However else could I fully appreciate your perfection, master?" you murmured, working lower down his back.
Soon those talented hands would explore lower still, dragging breathy approval from his lips. His beautiful temptress knew just how to enliven his senses, even through the most mundane acts of service. Soon, he wouldn't be able to resist having you properly...
Naoya exhaled a sigh as your nimble fingers kneaded along his lower back, skirting dangerously close to the towel preserving his half-hard cock. He could sense your warm breath brushing his damp skin as you worked, utterly unaware of the escalating hunger smoldering in his gaze.
"You've become quite skilled at this, pet," he rumbled in approval. "Attending to your master's every need like the perfectly obedient little plaything you are."
You made a soft noise of agreement, far too dim to recognize the implicit vulgarity lacing his words. In your naivete, you simply preened at the praise, determined to maintain your flawless service.
Trailing his eyes shamelessly over the swell of your cleavage peeking from the kimono's loose folds, Naoya's mouth curved in a cruel smirk. "Perhaps you ought to loosen these robes, my dear. To better access the full expanses of your master's form..."
Without hesitation, you promptly undid the sash at your collar, letting the garment gape open to bare your breasts and abdomen. Gods, the blank innocence on your pretty face as you exposed yourself, waiting for further instruction with such trusting oblivion.
A low growl rumbled from Naoya's throat as he drank in your naked flesh, now completely on display. Resisting the urge to simply seize and ravage you became a serrated edge against his restraint. But not yet...first he would break you properly through torturous degrees.
"Very good, pet. You're learning, He crooned in silken menace. "Now attend to the rest of me with those talented hands...and put that luscious mouth to use as well."
Inclining his body, Naoya allowed the towel to slip lower, exposing his cock fully as he regarded you with blatant expectation. "Worship your master's perfection and perhaps you'll be rewarded accordingly..."
There was the faintest furrow of confusion as you processed his demand. But your training was absolute. Swallowing your puzzlement, you simply dipped your head in acquiescence and awaited further orders to serve him as the mindlessly adoring creature he'd molded you to be.
The sight of your earnest compliance and vacant pliability made Naoya's shaft throb insistently. Soon that sordid innocence would be expertly defiled upon the altar of his selfish desires. He could already taste the exquisite rapture of physically mastering this vapid little possession of his...
#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk x reader#naoya smut#naoya x reader#naoya x reader smut#naoya zenin#naoya zenin smut#naoya zenin x reader#naoya zenin x reader smut
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collection of GOJO / JJK comments
its gon fit. TRUST.
NANAMI? spreads folds 🫱(())🫲
like a dog in heat 🐶
The way my uterus needs him so bad. He with this song, the one and only owner of my heart. 🩵
why is this video 47 hours long
it felt like i was going through the hunger games the first time it slipped in but i survived 😊!!
all 10 fingers at once
gojo is always coming on my fyp but never on my face
the way my phone teleported to my left hand
it came all over the screen! datte bayo ><
I will use it as shampoo, conditioner, body wash, toothpaste, mouthwash, deodorant, skincare, it doesn’t matter.
throbbing his name in morse code
my fingers are gonna fall off soon istg💔
my stomach did the thing 😳
the moment he came on my scream, i did too…
my fingers aren’t enough i need him 😞
BOUT TO GET MY LICENSE REMOVED CUZ I RODE TOO FAST😍
My uterus started jumping up and down
It slides in at a velocity 0.5x then proceeds to thrust at 2x speed over and over again
ROSE TOY AINT GOOD ENOUGH I NEED HIM
Cut, slight curve, def a little pale base #EAD3C5(?), tip is #E6ABA7, trimmed, 7.96in(soft), 4.5 girth(soft), fluid is #FEFEFE, flavor sweet
IN GOJO WE THRUST!!!
gojo grunting audio
he can snap line of my boxers like that mask
"TILL WE-" NAH WE AINT GONNA STOP😻😻
WHERE DID MY CLOTHES GO
it's currently roaring his name in morse code
the way my sheets are as white as his hair rn
the way I immediately pulled out my rose toy
my walls are white
till his blood technique turns white
Until i forget how to speak english 🫶
waiter or not i need the tip
NGHHH HES IN MY CERVIX
flaps opened so quick i started flying
the doors are WIDEE open all he has to do is enter 🙏🙏
TILL MY INSIDES KNOW THE SHAPE
the way my rose toy flew in my hands like thor's hammer
He can use me to activate boogie woogie
They'll have to amputate me from him
the father of my kids
the way i need his fillings
they'd have to kill me to get me off him
I couldn’t even edge to this, I exploded immediately!!! Clean up on aisle MY PANTS 😂😂😂
LUBED AND STRETCHED UP FOR HIM!!!!
i have so many inappropriate things to say..
need him spiritually, biblically, religiously
MISSIONARY, DOGGY, LEGS IN THE AIR, COWGIRL, REVERSE COWGIRL, LOTUS, STANDING, UNIVERSAL😩🧎🏻♀️
bouncing on it like a bouncy house 😌
CAME ON INSTINCT
#jujutsu kaisen#gojo satoru#jjk gojo#nanami kento#copypasta#dont ask why i have a collection of these#i find them funny pls laugh#part 1?#still got more in my pockets
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