#I just received a frankly unsettling ask

[oh-katsuki]

it's been a really long time since i wrote porn for porn's sake. here u go. it's alpha nanami :)) i don't have a title for it oops

cw: alpha!nanami, omega!reader, a/b/o, breeding, knotting, heat and rut cycles, dubcon on both sides, fingering, cohabitation, taboo, protective nanami, i feel like there is a slight primal kink in here, light dacryphilia,

wc: 3.1k

nanami didn't mean to take in a stray, but that's sort of how it happened. you're staying with him until a particularly careless friend helps to find a suitable living arrangement for you. nanami really isn't sure how it became his problem, but he'd feel awful if he'd told satoru no and left you without somewhere to go, no matter how against living with an omega he is.

frankly, nanami doesn't support the idea of alphas and omegas living together. he thinks it's a bit perverse. there's far too much at risk and the situation can become dangerous if it's the wrong pairing. sure, sometimes it works out. the better of his kind (of which he considers himself to be) give the necessary space and resist the temptation, but the others... take it too far. it'd be easier for you to live with a beta, and nanami wonders why satoru didn't first go to one of them. maybe your pheromones are weak and satoru isn't worried. that's probably why he hadn't noticed them when satoru first brought you by to ask if it'd be okay.

he knows that second gender is a spectrum. some alphas and omegas hardly emit any pheromones at all, even during heat and rut cycles. nanami thinks he likely falls into this category, seeing as he's never been particularly tempted by an omega and very few have ever been all too tempted by him, but it's a gamble. it's—frankly—unethical to ask this of him and though nanami knows that he should have said no, something in his good nature compelled him to say yes.

you've weak pheromones too, he thinks. he, of course, can feel them to a degree, but seeing as you mostly keep to yourself, it's hardly a problem in the first few weeks. frankly, the most tempting thing about you is that you're beautiful. you seem to have an almost standoffish air about you, proud and dignified, with a preference towards a more solitary and observant lifestyle. most of the day, the two of you hardly even see each other, going about your lives entirely separately only to settle into the same house for bed at night.

you don't say much when you're home. in fact, nanami would wonder if you could speak at all if it weren't for the conversations he hears you having on your phone and the little laughs or eyerolls you give in response to his comments. there's understanding there, but it's silent and you hardly ever dignify nanami's words or invitations with a response. maybe you're airing on the side of caution. he wouldn't blame you if you are. so, for the next two weeks the two of you coexist without so much as a hello between you both, silently sharing a space. you stay out of the way and nanami pretends that he isn't slightly unsettled by your constant proximity and the creeping feeling that you don't really like him all too much.

"they're a little difficult," says gojo over the phone. "kinda standoffish and really smart."

"so i've noticed," nanami responds. "i can't say i blame them though. you've put us in a weird spot."

"oh, nanamin, i know you well enough to know that you wouldn't lay a hand on them even if they begged," satoru laughs. "and they really might."

nanami grimaces at satoru's statement.

"i still don't understand why it had to be me," nanami says flatly. "you could have called ijichi. it'd probably be safer."

"how noble," satoru snickers, "but i trust you. hang in there a few more weeks. we've been working on securing an apartment for them and once we do, they'll be out of your hair. you're an angel for letting them stay." he sing-songs into the receiver. nanami holds it away from his ear.

"sure," he says. "it's not really much trouble... it's just.."

"that they're an omega. i get it. stay strong or whatever lol," satoru laughs. "unless of course, you really like them."

nanami huffs and hangs up the phone. satoru's got a good head on his shoulders, but he knew where that conversation was going. satoru was likely to say something about your heat cycle and nanami, being an optimist in cases like these, hopes silently that it won't come for another two weeks. he knows he could ask, but he worries about coming across as something of a creep. nanami is a little orthodox in the sense that he believes alphas and omegas should be separate for this reason exactly. suppressants exist but they don't always work and though nanami has sense about him, he's always had an insecurity about the kind of monster his second gender could make him. it sets him at ease a little that your pheromones appear as weak as they are.

you round the corner into the living room, standing just on the far end of the room. you're wearing pajamas, but you seem to feel no need to cover yourself or hide any perceived indecency. nanami glances at you, making a point to avoid looking at the shape of your body. it's inviting and you look at him for a moment with a small smile before raising one single eyebrow and letting out a low huff of air. nanami decides that you'd heard his conversation and he watches you shake your head as you move to the kitchen to peruse what he has. your hips, swaying slightly with each step, draw his attention to the curve of your ass and he feels ashamed for even having looked.

you're beautiful, that's certain. even the way you move is beautiful. nanami has eyes enough to see that. something stirs inside of you when he speaks, wordless recognition, maybe amusement or irritation, and vice versa. regardless, it's beautiful and nanami finds that the longer you're here the more he has to swallow it down.

you seem to get a little uncomfortable if nanami has people over, even for a moment. not that you've ever said anything about it, but you appear set on edge when he does so in the following weeks, it leads him to not bring anyone over at all. he can't bear the idea of making you uncomfortable. for as little as you've spoken to him since you've been here, nanami finds that he's grown rather fond of you. if things continue this way, he should hate it when you leave. admittedly though, he's looking forward to it a little. nanami feels that you're... a temptation. one he can't really seem to overcome.

one evening, you sit down in the living room with him. it draws his attention to look at you.

"i'm not mean, you know," you say flatly.

nanami is astounded to hear the cadence of your voice so clearly and without prompt. he can only offer a nod in return.

"i'm just picky," you continue, shifting in your seat as if you're made uncomfortable by the way you're sitting. "i have to be, being the way i am and all."

"i understand. i'm not offended," nanami says. "but some people would probably call that rude."

you smile at him, coy and delicate. "would you?"

"maybe," he offers. "if the circumstances were different."

nanami clears his throat, furrowing his eyebrows at your body language. something's off and he wonders if maybe your cycle has begun. he shifts on the couch and turns his full attention to you.

you move over to him and sit just adjacent to his leg. something in him stirs, primal and unrecognizable. you've never been this close and he only now notices that you smell nice, like something light and fresh.

nanami feels his chest stir. "this is the most you've ever said to me, i think."

"sorry," you say.

"don't be," he responds.

this conversation is awkward. it's loaded. it's like a conversation between two people who can't exchange more than a few words without experiencing intense sexual tension. he clears his throat.

"i need your help," you mumble, shifting closer. he knows what you're implying.

"i can't help you," nanami responds through gritted teeth.

"please," you say, standing slowly. you linger in front of him for a moment before reaching out and slowly straddling his legs. nanami flinches as you settle on him, pausing for a moment to breathe. "touch me."

you place your head against his shoulder, fingers grabbing his shirt as if you're agitated. the skin of your cheek is warm against his collarbone and he can feel your hair against his jaw. you twitch lightly when you touch him. carefully, he places a large hand on your head. your whole body flinches, unbelievable warmth soaking into his skin.

you feel like you have a fever and the next time you raise your head, your eyes have gone glassy, face darker. your lips are wet and lightly parted and a layer of sweat covers your forehead.

"not like that," you say, something needy creeping into your voice.

nanami, against his better judgement, rests his hands on your waist. you shudder under his touch and he slowly strokes the exposed skin of your sides with his fingers. trailing the pads of them against raised goosebumps on your skin. between your legs, he can feel heat. he knows you're wet and he knows what you want. nanami isn't sure he can give it to you, he's unsure that he should. it's not illegal, but he feels that it's wrong. something about it is fundamentally wrong and the situation goes against all of his morals. his mind still wanders.

you rest your forehead against his chest, and he feels your pheromones as they hit his nose and soak in through his skin. his body responds, tensing. your breath picks up, little heaves and pants, and you squirm down against him almost involuntarily. nanami feels himself grow hard. it surprises him and shames him. he feels heat rise to his cheeks at the realization that he's pressing up against the inside of your leg, something that makes you stir and settle directly over him. every exhale from you is a borderline whine and the syrupy smell of you grows more intense by the moment. nanami still runs his fingers along your sides, venturing over your tummy and back occasionally.

"just a little bit," you command, rubbing your cheek against him and then placing your mouth on the side of his neck and biting. "i'm sorry. just a little bit."

nanami winces and you drag your hips over him. his hands fly to yours, gripping hard enough as you make you whine.

"i can't," he grits out, speaking directly against the way his cock throbs against your core. he can feel it's dampness, a humidity that soaks through his pants.

"it hurts," you mutter and nanami feels an unpleasant stirring in his stomach. he hates the thought of you being uncomfortable.

"maybe we can find help-" you twitch over him, making him wince, "for you."

you shake your head, "you."

nanami exhales and tips his head back, his fingers still on your waist. he weighs the outcomes of this in his mind. he could push you off and fix you a blanket and a safe space, give you some tools to help yourself and then plug his ears and pretend he doesn't want to do it himself. he imagines the buzzing sound, the way you'd whimper from the other room over, still unfulfilled despite the aid. he thinks about your fingers between your legs, unsatisfying and only serving to worsen the itch. it makes him strangely jealous, nauseous almost, that you should be so uncomfortable in his presence.

you exhales against him and it's a near defeated sound. nanami's fingers buzz with adrenaline, his cock swelling and throbbing every time you so much as shift over him. there's a lack of control in this situation and his fingers move to comfort you almost against his will.

something natural and easy takes over as he slides a big hand down to the front of you and cups your cunt. it feels almost like an out of body experience, but both yours and nanami's humanity drips away slowly to make room for these primal actions. you shudder and nanami's chest swells with relief as he sees your expression. there's a need within him to care for you. it's protective, the same way he'd feel if you were in physical danger.

nanami moves his four fingers over you slowly, his breathing hitching as you push your body against him. he can feel your dampness soaking through your thin shorts and it isn't long before your relief gives way to more need.

"just this once, nanami," you breath against his neck. "please."

nanami's head is filled with something syrupy. probably you. it's probably a chemical reaction caused by you and he knows that any pheromones you're releasing are probably being released in equal amounts by him. they take up space in the room, crowding him so that all he can focus on is you, is the need between your legs that calls to him like song.

"okay," he gives in, pulling your panties to the side and dipping his fingers into you.

you shudder and let out a short cry, thighs trembling. he knows he won't be able to satisfy you like this, but he wants to try. nanami knows though that there is no such thing as nipping it in the bud with these sorts of things and as he begins to move his fingers inside of you with a beckoning motion, he feels himself slip farther away.

you're so wet, dripping down his fingers. your pussy clenches around them, begging for a knot, sucking the two digits up into you and then threatening to push them out. nanami has been with omegas before, but he's never felt himself slip away like this. his humanity leaves him in favor of something animal.

nanami shushes you quietly as he pulls his fingers from your body. you whine and squirm against him, pressing down and grinding against the bulge in his pants. he sucks in a sharp breath and quickly discard your bottoms, leaving you bare and exposed in his lap.

your cunt is sticky and shining, glistening with your wetness. he can smell it, the way you're probably fertile, and the perverse thought crosses his mind that maybe you deliberately avoided your suppressants so that he could do this to you. how out of character for him to think that.

for someone so proper, he makes quick work of pressing the head of his cock against your entrance. you push your body forward to try to take him in and nanami very quickly slides into you. you're tight and with the way your cunt makes him feel, he knows that the stretch must hurt you, but he can't seem to stop. he's so focused on quelling the ache within you, buried deep in that spot where his knot will inevitably catch.

you are barely capable of forming words now, dumb and deaf with your heat. any words of comfort nanami offers to you seem to go in one ear and out the other, but he offers them anyway. they're automatic and they come without his even needing to think about them. things about taking care of you, about knotting you the way you're begging him to, about making sure you're never alone when you have to do this. if he were in a better state of mind, he'd be mortified.

instead, he fucks his hips up into you, holding you by the waist against his throbbing cock. then, when that isn't enough, he lays you on your back on the couch and presses your knees to your chest so that he can go deeper. he needs to get deep enough to where his knot will catch, to be able to stay there to ensure it catches properly. he feels the way air leaves you with every fuck of his hips.

you raise your hand to touch his face, eyes glassed over and watering as gentle tears slip down your cheeks. a silent encouragement that pulls him from his thoughts back to you. nanami turns his head instinctively and kisses the palm of your hand. then, he takes your thumb into his mouth and bites down on the fleshly part at the base of it. he could draw blood if he wanted, but he doesn't. instead he takes your hand as it falls from his lips and kisses you plainly again on the palm before pinning it above your head.

"i'll take care of you," he grunts out and you nod deliriously.

nanami makes quick work of knotting you. he bullies his cock as far in as it will go, swelling and swelling until he sticks. you squirm as he does, gasps growing higher in pitch until you're silenced by the pressure deep in your abdomen. you cum around him, he thinks, pussy fluttering as it throbs around his knot. then, you exhale as the heat recedes into the background with this momentary relief.

nanami winces as he holds himself up over you, slowly returning to his head as the swell of pheromones recedes and leaves only the feeling of the space he takes up in your cunt.

you search his face for something, benevolence maybe, and nanami places a wide palm to your cheek.

"i'm sorry," he breathes as words find him again. "i didn't intend to-"

you shake your head, returning to yourself as well. "don't be, i wanted to."

nanami isn't really sure what to say and you wince under him as he settles his weight a little further, throbbing lightly at the mention.

"hold me," you ask and nanami obliges. he settles fully over you before lifting you so that you're straddling his lap again. you wince and nanami soothes you by gently stroking your face. it's automatic again, the urge to comfort you is well beyond his control.

something in you triggers something in him and it is two full days before either of you are lucid and well enough to separate. satoru calls him multiple times, but nanami ignores him, too preoccupied with his unexpected rut and keeping you comfortable. at present, he's well past the initial guilt and frankly, entirely hellbent on deciding that you should stay. so much for his practicality, nature won out in the end.

nanami doesn't really think he'll ever hear the end of this, especially not from satoru who, when he inevitably gets a hold of them, will tease so relentlessly that it might shock nanami and you back into your senses. he decides to hide out here with you for a little longer, filling the room with the scent of you both until it crowds out everything else. he likes the way you feel nestled up beside him, messy and breathing deeply as you sleep.

a tag for my friends @antizenin and @kentocidal bc they asked!!!

#nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #jjk x reader #nanami smut #nanami kento smut #tw: a/b/o #tw: breeding #tw: dubcon #i can't find my writing tag #also there are prob spelling mistakes in here i apologize #i apologize if this isnt very good

[onlyseokmins]

$$60 billion (part 2) • l.s.m.

How did a legendary bounty promised for turning in the wasteland's most infamous outlaw transform into a sick, little inside betting joke amongst your traveling companions? Though you have no idea why they're doing it… you sure as hell don't want that very same gunslinger comrade worth sixty billion double dollars to know anything about it either — but oops — looks like he already does! Damn you and your temper, some unhelpful lip-loosening alcohol, and one no-good, sorry excuse of a preacher you sometimes think of as a friend.

Pairing: outlaw!lee seokmin x fem!reader Genres: smut (minors dni!), trigun!au, action!au, apocalyptic/post-apocalyptic!au, space western!au, slight enemies to comrades to ??? !au, angst, fluff, they're dumbasses your honor 🙏 Warnings: swearing, blood, guns, injuries, medical tingz, destruction, mentions of knives, violence, unsettling space western things, slight body horror and hints at altered dna, weird religious cults, mentions of eating/food, alcohol, threats, bets among friends, tame-ish alien/monster/plant sex (????? listen it'll make sense - think of him like howl's bird form on steroids idk), mating, possessiveness!, marking, bruising, jealousy, smelling/scent kink???, wet messy sex uwu, wing kink (??? listen i was gonna explore it more but decided not to ok??), BITING (bc it's me), mechanical/robotic fingering???, gagging, bulge kink, oral sex (explicit male receiving and brief fem. receiving), seokmin's dick is like SLOPPY TOPPY LORGE w/ a mind of it's own, lowkey forgot how to write smut sorry </3 WC: 13.2k of 32.7k | Part 1 | Read on AO3 A/N: this is for the Now that's 90's - A Seventeen collab and loosely based off/inspired by the Trigun anime/manga! You do not need to know it as I manipulated a whole lot of elements for my own narrative but beware of various spoilers if you do go ahead and check out the series after reading!! I hope everyone enjoys the conclusion and please check out the other writers in this amazing collab ❤️PS, I know nothing abt chess lmaooooo but let me know your thoughts and feel free to ask any questions regarding this au's intricacies!! This part might get a little confusing because of a flashback!! (starts right after the italicized paragraph and ends with "...in this moment...")

The silence is palpable.

"Does it hurt more to get stabbed in the back or shot?"

Only the continual rustling sound answers your philosophical question. Not that you actually care because you weren't really expecting a reply.

So, you keep talking.

"I think it would be more painful to get stabbed… but it would take longer to heal from a gunshot wound."

There's a brief pause in the motions behind you. But the quiet resumes, though the practiced skill of a needle threading through your skin quickens. While the local anesthetics Tonim's doctor supplied is doing its job for the most part, you swear you can still feel the tug of flesh being sewn together.

Or maybe you're just thinking too hard.

"Look. I'm… I'm sorry."

If tension could personify itself right at this moment, it would do so with ease, given how heavy its presence currently sits in the room. A low voice finally speaks up, gravely and roughened after such a long period of silence and the hairs on your neck rise.

"Are you really?"

"… Yes."

A heavy sigh — one burdened with all the worries of the world — follows. You wince and then tremble, wishing you could turn around. It's easy to guess what he's thinking but god, do you wish you could see his face to confirm. The fear of the unknown paralyzes you.

"I seriously am."

"Doubtful. I know you only asked me that question to subtly say you'll be okay and heal just fine but it's not that simple."

The callousness in his tone and the sharp way he says your first name makes you want to shrink down, shrivel up, and quite frankly die on the spot. Gritting your teeth, you succumb to the apparent silent treatment until the snip of scissors signifies your surgeon has finished treating you.

You think twice about your options upon hearing the click-clack of medical supplies being put back into the first aid kit. Then you think, "fuck it!", and use your good arm to keep the fabric of a spare t-shirt pressed against your chest and shift so you can face the man who just rather aggressively threw a handful of unused alcohol prep pads back into their designated slot.

"I'm super duper, utterly, and truly apologetic, Seok."

The gunslinger heaves another grand exhale of irritation. He doesn't even so much as glance at you, frowning sourly down at the roll of gauze in his hands instead. The temptation to reach out and touch him — soothe him — is strong but you decide against that (for various reasons) and resort to huffily pouting instead. Amazingly it seems to work, because he notices right away and folds way too easily without much of your sway, finally facing you with a reluctant but serious expression.

"Then what did you learn?"

Your gaze lowers, eyelashes fluttering while you drown in your feelings of shame and wrack your brain. The urge to toy with the silver chain around your neck is strong though you resist the tick and hesitantly answer instead.

"Um, that I need to fortify my mental block better?"

"Try again."

"Uh…"

"How about the way you're not supposed to play the hero?"

The tin of the trauma kit rattles as Seokmin slams his left hand down on the bed, leaning menacingly toward you. Though narrowed, his eyes seem to glow. You can't help but whimper at the intense ire dancing in those irises paired with his sharp tone. Like the desert's suns, it simmers and radiates off of him with rays of heat that you can easily feel given how close he is.

"I'm, I'm sorry!"

"No, you're not," he states sharply though the rigidness in his body relaxes after your squeak of another apology. "You almost died!"

You'd defiantly cross your arms if you could. "Between the two of us, you were most at risk of dying."

"Was not! And we both know my chances of injury are much, much lower than yours."

"You can't lecture me and flex your stupid powers this time! It's different 'cause Jihooon was fuckin' with my mind."

The harsh bitterness is more so directed at yourself and the damned Crimsonnail than Seokmin. But as usual, you vent all your frustrated emotions out on him, especially whenever he brings up the fragility of your mortality. You both stare stubbornly into each other's eyes, thinking back to what happened and what could've happened.

Lina's protected. The Tonim residents were all immobilized. Seungcheol, Seungkwan, and Mingyu are in good spirits. You are safe.

A burst of air rushes into Seokmin's lungs, relief filling him as he idly scans your figure for injuries. Casually reloading his revolver just in case, he beams as you approach. The mirrored expression of victory on your face accompanied by a hand reaching out causes his whole body to shudder in pleasure. There's nothing he'd like more than to intertwine his fingers with yours.

Instead, he settles for returning your enthusiastic fist bump. Nudging his shoulder against yours, Seokmin chirps out, "Good job, partner!"

"Partner?"

"Yeah, partners."

You shake your head like you can't believe him, amusement tilting up the corners of your lips. He wants to tell you everything, all of it. But his ears catch the faint click of a contraption behind him and he looks over his shoulder just in time to see Jihoon's crossbow assemble.

Joshua looks mightily displeased but makes no effort to put a stop to the Crimsonnail's actions. Seokmin can only thank his lucky stars that Soonyoung remains in a catatonic state. Dealing with a ginormous worm so soon after being in its stomach a couple days ago was not appealing in the slightest.

The fingers of his prosthesis splay out, cybernetic arm lowered and extended outwards in front of you as you turn around as well. He knows you hate unwarranted protection but you'll have to forgive his instincts this time. Nevertheless, he trusts you. And as Jihoon opens fire, Seokmin leaps into action, expecting you to do the same — only to do a double-take when you don't move despite a flurry of nails breaching the air.

Your eyes remain unfocused. Glazed over and cloudy, posture tense but still. He sneaks observatory looks your way from afar while firing Geranium. Round after round, breaking nail after nail to prevent any harm befalling you. A maniacal laughter rings out and Seokmin freezes, putting two and two together.

Then he snarls.

Jihoon must've sicced his killing intent — a nasty ability to project and create illusions of destruction in someone and break their will — on you. Cursing, he starts making his way closer to you, inwardly reaching out to you and begging that you'll break free of the blonde-haired man's clutch on your psyche.

You're obviously more than capable. He knows this. But your movements are sluggish, slowly releasing Sirocco from your grasp. The empty pistol lands on the sand with a muffled thud and Seokmin's pretty sure his heart mimics it. A look of terror and horror spreads across your facial features, surely subject to something awful within the confines of your own mind.

And while you're experiencing visions of things you fear coming true, he's stuck in the vivid reality where they do.

You spin around with a wild look in your eyes — full of rage and anguish. He stumbles back as you teeter one foot at a time toward him and in the distraction, a nail pierces right below your shoulder blade.

Someone wails behind him.

You scream.

Seokmin rushes forward. But he's tackled suddenly to the ground and ends up flat on his back. Completely winded and left with his vision smarting, blinking in confusion at the blurry double halos that definitely shouldn't be around the duo of suns in the sky.

Then your face comes into focus. And god, forget the suns — in all your glory and in all your fierceness, you shine brighter than them all combined — hallucinations be damned.

It takes a bit of wrangling around, given how you try to wrestle and pin the man down. The clunky gun you're waving around goes off several times, harmlessly lodging bullet holes into the sand cushioning around Seokmin's head.

"Stop it, you're gonna hurt yourself!"

Moving and lashing out like a wild animal before it's fully sedated, his words don't come through the hellish haze Jihoon's trapped you in. You pull the trigger with no regard for the injury to your shooting arm.

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

He dutifully counts each round fired, multitasking between that and the effort it takes to contain your struggling movements. Once again, thanks to the overpowered strength of his prosthetic, the man's finally able to sit up with you secured in his arms to cease any further movement.

"Lovely, lovely mayfly," he murmurs. The stable cybernetic hand gently feels around the impaled shoulder while a trembling thumb rubs your abnormally chilled cheek. "C'mon and snap out of it, pretty."

Not a spot of recognition in your blank glare. His eyebrows furrow as cold metal presses in between them. Seungcheol is cursing, Mingyu and Seungkwan are shouting loudly. Jihoon gloats.

But none of that matters. Seokmin drowns all of it out by diving in the pooling depths of your empty irises. Searching, calling, begging. Biting his lip, he delivers a quick slap and pleads, "Come back to me, love."

And like a mist that rises after dawn, you return to him. Your stunned grip on the gun falters, the final bullet rattling in its chambers. The pained expression on your face slices open his own heart but its shredded form takes flight in utter relief.

You're back. You're going to be okay — he'll make sure of it. And even if you don't know it, you're his and he's yours.

"Y-you're dead," you choke out and all he can do is smile despite feeling like he's on the verge of crying. Elation, anger, guilt, hope, longing, worry, joy — all of it turns and tosses within him like a rustling flurry of winged creatures struggling to break free.

So, he smiles at you and grasps the barrel of the old pistol aimed at his forehead. "I know, mayfly."

Jihoon howls in fury. Joshua finally steps forward, striking a military pose with his hands behind his back. Composed as ever, his voice remains its deceptively sweet self compared to the harsh jerking movements he's subjected upon the gray-eyed man via telepathy.

"You've crossed the line, lost number thirteen."

"Don't call me that!"

It's no surprise that the pecking order in Dokyeom's henchmen sowed seeds of dissent. Though Joshua was simply a right-hand man, he remained the only unnumbered member, proving the lack of disposability DK saw in him versus the others.

"Know your place."

"Which has always been at the top! But because of you — !"

" — The top of those already at the bottom, perhaps. Respect your superiors and your orders, Crimsonnail. You were not to lay a hand upon Master Dokyeom's brother. Ever."

"I didn't!"

"Or a member of his little group." His indifferent gaze swept over Seokmin protectively cradling your body. "This voids our involvement and nullifies any further implementations of the game."

Joshua would thank his lucky stars that the humanoid typhoon is letting them leave scotch-free if he was a decent man. Unfortunately, he's not — already considering what punishment to enact upon Jihoon per his master's orders. The Crimsonnail feels a shiver down his spine, further enhanced by Joshua's frosty, disdainful look of disapproval as he telepathically drags Jihoon to the car.

Still, it's a good thing Seokmin's a pacifist by nature, that he's more preoccupied by your well being than anything else. Your brow begins to bead with sweat, the pain of your wound finally sinking in past the adrenaline rush wearing off. Black circles dance in your blurring vision, the gun falling from your grasp as you droop forward and rely on the unerring sureness of his support and the safety within in it.

Seokmin knows he needs to get you medical help right away, and it's the only thing he can focus on. There's no time for exchanging a blow with a blow nor the faintest idea of revenge.

Not yet. Not now. Maybe never if it means putting you in harm's way.

Was he really going to give up following the bloody trail to hold his brother accountable for the unspeakable crimes he's committed? Throw away the blank ticket Rem spoke about? All for one person?

The questions all swirl around in his head like a nebulous mass. And like a newborn star — one that's been long in the making — the answer is crystal clear and shining bright as you sit in front of him now looking devastatingly beautiful to him despite all that's happened. Most importantly, you're safe.

But all he can say in this moment aloud is, "I'm sorry."

For a multitude of reasons. So many of them. You seem to spot something in his eyes, frowning ever so slightly.

"You don't have to apologize for anything. I'm fine."

"I almost lost you."

"But you didn't."

"…I know. And I'm so fuckin' glad."

Seokmin runs his fingers in a distressed manner through dusty, matted strands of reddish-brown strands. Immediately drawing attention to the dirt, grime, and dried blood coating and dulling the cybernetic's buzzing glow.

"That's gonna be a pain in the ass to clean."

He appreciates the subject change, shooting you a lopsided grin. "Yeah, tell me 'bout it."

"Let me help."

You get up before he can protest. A tactical way to coerce him into worrying about helping you rather than arguing. The coy part of yourself is applauding the method, especially when the calloused flesh of his palm splays against the bare skin of your lower back in the name of support as you both walk to the bathroom.

That same part whispers naughty temptations to drop the t-shirt covering your chest, press up against him, and see his reaction. But your reasonable, reserved side is too held up on various other matters to give in.

Sadly, you find out you can't offer as much assistance as you would've liked. But Seokmin seems heartened by just seeing you up and about and close to him. Plus, you make use of your idleness while he washes in the sink by reaching for the few stocked amenities you can reach with your good shoulder above it when he asks for them. And you receive a heartfelt smile in return.

"I probably should've just showered."

You shrug. "You still could."

"Nah, it's fine, I can do it later. What about you, though? You're going to need help with those stitches."

"What a roundabout way to say you want to bathe together, Seok. You could've just asked."

Maybe you expected him to splutter nervously or protest fiercely at the tease. You certainly don't expect him to just shake his head — silver earring flashing in the vanity's dull lighting — and chuckle.

"I'm being serious, goof. Besides, it's not the first time I've seen you in the tub."

"What?" you squawk and his grin doesn't falter. In fact, it turns into a smirk.

"I'll go get Sherry. Lina's gonna want to see you too, she wouldn't stop crying about her pretty savior getting hurt."

You frown. Was he still going to dodge The Talk™? And did he think you were really just going to him out of your clutches that quickly?

"We still need to chat. You promised."

His eyes flash. "… And you don't like promises."

Yes, that was exactly why. He knew your history. Still, you refused to back down.

"No, I don't. But I like you… and, and most of all, I trust you. I just want the truth, Seok. Even if you think it'll hurt me, at least be honest. Trust me back. I promise it'll make it less painful if you tell me why you thought I wasn't serious. So, please…"

Don't let me down.

It's unspoken, but he can clearly hear it in your tone. A battle-worn sigh escapes so you try to lead him and finish with a question where he can give a more straightforward answer.

"… How long have you known? About the bet, I mean."

Despite wavering between semi-alertness and bordering the edge of losing consciousness, you're aware of Sheryl's presence as she bustles around with Seungkwan and Mingyu to clear out an empty room above the saloon temporarily used for patients. Seungcheol waits outside the door with you two, a cigarette loosely dangling from his lips.

When Sheryl leaves, she sneaks a peek at the way your face buries into Seokmin's neck, how the man carefully assesses the rest of your body for injuries. His touch is gentle, the cybernetic arm coated in blood as it holds the nail in you steady. He'd been adamant about being the one — the best one — to treat you. Smiling, she hands Seungcheol a couple of double dollars and the pastor raises an inquiring eyebrow.

"For that little game of yours," the woman whispers knowingly and gestures to the two who just exited the room and Seokmin hurriedly heads inside. "They told me all about it."

You lift your head to glare at Seungcheol and then your other comrades as you pass, wondering if this was some sick form of revenge for pulling one on him and if Sheryl was so keen to set you up with someone in the same way pompously done for her. But your shoulder feels like it's on fire so rather than reprimand your stupid, back-stabbing friends and slump back wearily against Seokmin.

He's a simple man who certainly can't hide a silly smile at the unconventional snuggling. Lifting his chin, he then tilts his head questioningly to the money in Seungcheol's hands. "You're still doing that bet?"

"Haf'ta win the lasses 'n hopeless romantics over 'n have 'em rootin' fer ya."

"Y-you know about the bet?"

Seokmin hushes you with a low murmur, words muffled by the press of his lips to the crown of your head. You can't make out what he says, but the timbre is soothing enough that your eyes close.

"Gotta make that sixty billion somehow if we're not turnin' ya ass in."

"Fair enough!" The wanted man laughs and closes the door with his foot.

His cheerful demeanor then dropped to focus on the proper procedures to treat your wound and that's when the silence settles in, soon followed by the weighing air of unresolved tension between you. And now, you're continuing the determined path to fully speed-run ahead and break it, though he shrugs nonchalantly at the question.

"Known for a while, to be honest."

"Seriously? I thought it was a secret!"

"C'mon, you know how bad Cheol is at keeping them."

"Yeah, right," you roll your eyes. "That man takes things to the grave — literally!"

"You're too hard on him." Seokmin leans toward you, bracing himself with an arm supported by the sink and brown eyes sparkling with humor. "Think about how much you've learned about him."

"Against my will, too much…"

"Which means I'm right."

"… I guess you do make a fair point."

"Of course. He's a completely open book once you peel back that damn protective hardcover of his."

Still, you sniff disdainfully and frown. "I swear, you're the only one who sees him like that."

"Like what?"

"Like…. unafraid, unconcerned, unbothered by all that he is, all that he's done, et cetera."

"Why not? He's done the same for me. Besides, I've said it before but he has those eyes, you know. Kind."

Ah, and that's what gets you to resign with a small grin. It's just like Seokmin to see only the good in people.

"And you're not all that different," he continues with a broad, knowing smile. Immediately you bristle and he clarifies, "from me." Some part of you momentarily wonders if you spoke your thoughts aloud or if he just simply knows them that well. "As loath as you are to admit it, you care for him. Most importantly, you trust him."

Though your face sours at the thought, you don't retort right away. Sure, Seungcheol is a trusted ally. And maybe the motivation to free Jeonghan from the control of the Eye of Joshua wasn't solely because it was simply the right thing to do. But also because it might brighten the dull spark and leave one less bloodstain on the hand of a man who bore the burdensome weight of all sins like a cross on his shoulders.

Then you wave away those thoughts for now. "So, is that why you thought I wasn't serious on how I feel about you. 'Cause of the bet?"

"No, because I never knew the full extent of it. But… if you're saying it had to do with your feelings, then I would have to say yes — though I find it hard to believe any bet's worth my bounty."

"Oh." Your cheeks heat at unwittingly giving it away.

Seokmin smirks when you avoid his gaze, and he moves in even closer. "No one has sixty billion double dollars just lying around, mayfly."

"You're just saying that so no one turns you over to July."

"Well, you won't do it, will you?"

"You don't know that," you fire back, intending to heighten your defenses that only weakly falter because you're still not looking at him.

"But I do."

"Yeah? Prove it!"

Ooh, a challenge.

And one more step closer.

"Because you care too much about the man you like to put him behind bars."

Your eyes dart back to meet his, ready to squint reproachfully only to widen at how the gunslinger's face is only a breadth away from yours. Breath hitching, you desperately want to whine out in irritation but it comes out in a low whimper. Seokmin's canines flash in the bathroom's dim lighting.

"That's not, that's not fair." The wall pressing into your bare back keeps you from retreating and the hand keeping the t-shirt covering your chest feels how your heartbeat speeds up. Your skin is on fire, only the cool temperature of your locket and its chain preventing you from utterly exploding after the plaintive admission of, "You already know everything. But…"

"But…?"

The unconscious action of biting into your lower lip only gets realized by the way it keenly draws Seokmin's eyes. Electric blue flashes against brown irises yet they darken to almost black with the sudden thrill of desire that rises to the surface. He's so close, you can feel his breath caress your face, and you swear you hear it deepen into a low grunt before he raises a brow for you to continue.

"But… b-but I don't know…a single… thing."

Seokmin has forever believed Rem's take regarding the ticket to the future always being blank. For him, it's always been an unknown path forward that he's let lead him wherever and to whatever destination.

He holds himself back, just enough to utter the (practically what should be unneeded) words of reassurance, "It could only ever be you — and it's always been only you — that I could be in love with so much, mayfly," and then he's eliminating the meager distance between the two of you. For the first time, he stamps that blank ticket with an assuredness of the future and outcome he's never had before — with a kiss.

Cradling the back of your head with his cybernetic prosthesis, the other cups your cheek and then trails down to your collarbones — but no further than appropriate. His mouth, though, disregards the very notion. A teasing tongue repeatedly runs across your bottom lip to smooth out the indents caused earlier by your teeth then naughtily pokes and prods its way between, eliciting a sweet gasp from you he absolutely devours.

Your whole body shudders with happiness, eagerly surrendering to the man's wild, possessive fervor as he passionately steals the breath out of your lungs and stakes his claim on you by leaving behind shiny kiss-bitten lips. Seokmin only draws away, panting, to admire his handiwork, light-headed and dizzy with delight.

"I love you," he reconfirms with his forehead resting against yours and nose tickling your own, "… partner."

Breathlessly, you joke back after placing a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth. "Love you too, partner."

And that was that.

With your shoulder injury on the mend and the other members of your little ragtag group nursing their own bumps and bruises, you all decided to spend one more night in Tonim — much to Lina's delight. While she merrily bounced from one 'hero' to the next, you playfully reminded Wonwoo that he still owed you some free drinks. You were eager to take advantage of the fact and he was more than willing to accommodate.

The tavern that originally held a subdued, slightly hostile air to it when you first arrived was now filled with an unfettered joyous harmony. You're so easily swept up in the ambiance of such high spirits and jubilant townsfolk as mug ales filled to the brim get passed around and clinked together, you fail to notice Seokmin's sudden withdrawn nature.

Not until the next morning do you first realize something's off.

"You're sure about this?"

"Oh, no. Not you too, Seok."

You'd already flipped off and shoved away a complaining, terribly hungover Seungcheol and finally got rid of the watchful, fretting gazes of Seungkwan and Mingyu. The duo had been hovering around you with concern ever since you downed a full glass of alcohol last night. While you generally just let them be and were quite thankful not to wake up with a pounding headache, you certainly weren't above crushing all of Mingyu's pudding cups if he meekly asked one more time if you were okay or needed help.

Seokmin leans against the open door frame as you pack. The pulsating glow of lost technology flickers in your peripheral and keeps you aware of his quiet presence. Part of you had always wondered if the ever-running currents of lighting synced with the flow of blood through the rest of his body.

The gunslinger doesn't speak, and you wonder why. And though you'd like to flatter yourself and entertain the notion that he's watching you — while other times that may be true — you don't feel the weight of his eyes trained on your motions. It wasn't like there was much to stuff in your bag, the satchel's leather cracked, faded, and well-worn after all these years of use through the desert and everything you truly value remains strapped some way to your body. So once you're finished, you inquisitively peek over in his direction.

Brown eyes are trained on the clunky gun on the mattress — the same one you'd pressed against his head. It's also the exact same pistol Chan had spent his adolescence restoring and repairing. Left unnamed unlike the honorary grave Seokmin had helped you prep before leaving the ruins of Ivywood behind. Meanwhile, his gaze darts to linger in contemplation on the chain around your neck before his eyebrows furrow, emphasizing the drawn out features and dark circles beneath his eyes.

"You look tired, you doing okay?"

"Yeah, just haven't been… sleeping well."

Frowning, you step toward him. Although he doesn't back away, his entire posture stiffens. "Will you be able to make the journey?"

He snorts, gesturing to your shoulder you're trying not to move too much. "Isn't that what I'm supposed to be asking you?"

"I'll feel better at the border."

Seokmin nods understandingly. "The weather will align well."

Within the sandstorms that relentlessly swirl near the Melca Border Sea of Sand, hides the only SEEDS floating ship that survived the Great Fall and you have to get the timing just right to reach it. It's home to a large community of humans, and most importantly, it's what you would consider a true home to you and Seokmin. Already, your energy restores — excited at the prospect of getting to relax in a place you trust and people you truly enjoy being around.

"Jun can take a look at my shoulder."

"That's true, it would be good for him to do."

"And I'm sure Hao's going to want to check your arm, maybe fashion some fabric that's not only bulletproof but also nail-proof."

"He's gonna give us both a scolding."

"Wouldn't be the first time."

You share a look of fond chagrin. Even though Seokmin's well over a century older than Juhui and Minghao, they were direct Earth descendants aboard a ship full of lost technology and geniuses in their own right. Those facts alone gave them all the confidence and utter audacity to more often than not, act like fretting toma mothers over the two of you.

Nonetheless, you appreciated them with all that's remaining of your heart.

The trip to the Melca Border wasn't a straight shot from Tonim but it wasn't as far as you thought. A bittersweet farewell to Wonwoo, Lina, Sherry, and the rest of the townsfolk was to be expected. Though their sorrow weighed you down, the knowledge that you were parting from them with good memories and the expectations to visit again kept your steps light-footed.

Seokmin remains zoned out the entire time. You bulk it up to his normal reaction whenever something emotional was on the horizon. Returning to Melca held a grand spread of wonderful, warm memories with a scattering of dreadfully sad ones too. Though the floating ship's defenses have been bolstered to the max over the years, the terrible events weren't easy to forget.

But they were incidents in the past and it's thanks to the intellect of the two who greet you at the entrance of the ship that their defenses continue to improve. Luida proudly stands behind them, accompanied by Brad and his wife.

"Greetings, weary travelers."

"We're no strangers, Luida," Seokmin protests against her formality.

The elderly leader's playful grin smooths out the wrinkles lining her wise face. "Welcome home, children."

It's a simple phrase but one that fills you with inexplicable warmth. Hansol might be the son born of her own body, but no one is immune from her maternal instinct. She beckons for everyone to come inside where the main quarters lie and the growing crew population will certainly be enthusiastic upon hearing about your return.

Seungcheol, Mingyu, and Seungkwan trail after without fuss, also elated to be aboard the familiar floating ship. You smile with genuine delight and step forward to follow while Minghao takes one look over his wire-rimmed glasses to survey Seokmin's dusty figure and elegantly tilts his head knowingly in the hallway leading to the technology laboratory. Glittery, colorful beads woven through the long strands of his two-toned hair clink in time with the movement.

It's hard to hide the snicker that escapes as you watch Seokmin trudge after Minghao like a scolded puppy. Your glee at someone else's suffering doesn't last long when a gentle hand clasps your shoulder. Wincing at the pain, you meet Junhui's puzzled look before his eyes narrow.

"You're hurt," he says, disappointed but not surprised, and leads you away to the med bay. It's exactly what you expected, in fact, the main reason behind why you're here — and yet, you sulk and whine petulantly just because you can.

"Not my fault that the only way to get here is by timing everything right to jump into a sandstorm and then onto a flying platform."

After instructing you to lie down on the medical bed and cutting the fabric of your shirt without fanfare, Junhui clicks his tongue. "You only come to visit when you're hurt."

"Not true!"

He concentrates on disinfecting and resewing the torn stitches in the tender flesh around the parts of your wound that are still healing. His tone borders on slight resentment but the concern weighing in it smoothes it all over.

"And yet most of our time spent together is only when you visit so I can patch you up."

"It's not like that."

"I know… but I would've met you elsewhere."

"Boring."

"Can't you courteously pretend to care about yourself out of consideration for those who worry?"

"You'll go gray at such a very young age if you stress all the time, Jun."

He shakes away silver bangs that threaten to impede his vision, unamused. "And you'll end up buried under the sand next time."

"Sounds cozy."

"I swear —"

You wave his growing ire away. "Seok takes care of me just fine."

"Yes," Junhui's cat-like smile causes your metaphorical hackles to raise. "He does care deeply about you."

"I'll punt you into the fifth moon and give it a second crater with your body."

"Now, now… violence is never the answer."

"Violence is the only reason you have a job!"

If you weren't as close as you were, perhaps he'd be offended by your claim. Instead, he kicks you out (after ensuring you're indeed in relatively good health), leaving you to laugh victoriously. Then, you set off to the technology lab in good spirits, hoping to catch Seokmin and commiserate with him.

Instead, you find a lone Minghao sitting refinedly amongst all the tech with grace and poise. He was in his element. Fiddling with and poking at a well-worn, familiar cybernetic tech with a thin silver instrument, he simply raises an eyebrow to acknowledge your presence.

"Did you fit Seok with a new arm?"

"But of course," the man sighs wearily, "despite my best efforts, my darlings always return home to their father with quite a beating."

"… Then you'll hate what I'm about to tell you."

"No, I cannot fashion you a pierce-proof trench coat. However, I will acquire some stronger material… but there better not be a next time."

You purse your lips and pout. It often seemed like Minghao worried more about his inventions than the people using them, though you knew that to ultimately not be true.

"So, he already told you what happened."

"Oh, yes… he told me everything." Heterochromatic eyes suddenly meet yours, sharp with a spark of amusement. "See, I almost didn't want to give him the latest modification but…"

"But…" You repeat warily.

Junhui was always mischievous, though most of it only ended with harmless pranks. On the other hand, Minghao's sarcasm-filled humor rarely made an appearance, and when it did, it usually delighted in the sickest of satisfactions.

Yet, he simply shrugs, evasive as always. "I think you'll like its improvements."

There's something foreboding about that statement, but he ushers you away under the pretense that he needs to concentrate. And shortly, you find yourself stopped by curious passersby or familiar faces in the hallways to the main quarters. Since your last visit, a multitude of passengers have a lot to share and update you on. By the time you reach your own pod, you're socially exhausted.

Sleep came easy but finding Seokmin did not. The SEEDS ship was already big in the first place and additional construction enlarged it further. An itchy, achy feeling pooled inside your gut on the second evening you'd been unable to catch sight of him. Finally, you acknowledged the bitter truth — he was avoiding you.

You had to come to terms with how delusional it was to think that once everything was out in the open, the scattered puzzle pieces would magically fall together in their rightful places. It should be easy, right? It's what happened in those cheap novels Junhui dug out of an abandoned pod in Melca back in the day. He'd given them to you as a birthday joke — Minghao sighing and handing over your real present (the first bullet-proof trench coat) — but you'd actually read through all the cheesy, steamy piles of romantic drivel.

Seungkwan, ever the cynic, and Seungcheol — who's naturally a heathen — quickly destroyed the slim spark of hope of ever hoping to feel those flutters in your gut. Meanwhile, Mingyu was someone precious and wholesome with a romantic outlook on life underneath the great muscular physique he'd gained from carrying that heavy concussion gun around.

You often wondered why they never tormented him like they did to you. But despite his indomitable stature, the emotionally soft man's tears were the most powerful weapon in his arsenal. Even if he didn't quite realize it, his comrades certainly were aware.

And Seokmin… well, if you knew how Seokmin felt about romance, you wouldn't be stuck in the position of wondering why the fuck he was avoiding you.

Again.

"Where is he?"

"Good morning," Mingyu greets the following morning, cheerful as ever. "If you're still hunting Seokmin for sport, he said he's feelin' a little sick!"

"Sure."

"No, he really is." Seungkwan refutes your aggressive eye roll with a gentle shake of his head. "Loverboy hasn't come out of his room for days and when I almost knocked the door in earlier, he finally responded only to sound like a dying toma."

Your face contorts into a morbid combination of concern and irritation, shifting between the two expressions. "Probably 'cause he stayed out all last night!"

And with a dramatic huff, you glower at the pastor seated in the cramped corner of the floating ship's kitchen area. Seungcheol deemed it was cooler, darker, and the farthest spot in the enclosed space from any of your misplaced wrath. He smiles, the white stick between whiter teeth jollily flicking up and down at you, taunting.

He reveled in the knowledge of being safe since he'd been the only one able to provide any information on the humanoid typhoon's whereabouts. The pastor — who still enjoyed a late-night smoke to cure some of his insomnia — considered it his saving grace to catch sight of the fellow gunslinger slinking through the shadows in the halls. Apparently, Seokmin had been sneaking outside the past few nights and remained resolutely ever-elusive during the day.

"Should go see 'im. Yer all antsy and 'm bettin' he's missin' his… mayfly."

"Oh, go fuck yourself," you snarl and storm out, missing the man's bark of laughter before he continues contemplating the best way to siphon money during a confessional.

The unfaltering stomp of your combat boots is the background beat on your walk to Seokmin's pod. His halls aren't far from the kitchen area and yet each footfall feels like a step into the unknown, the lights above seeming to grow dimmer the closer you get.

Why was he acting like this?

Did he regret everything that happened between you?

Was something wrong?

Would he shut himself away from you?

Worry and anger swirl together, mirroring the vortex of sand you had to pass through to get here. Seokmin's never shut you completely out before but you're familiar with his reclusive acts when things get too much. Too close. Too emotional. And you're afraid to be the catalyst to another spiral.

So, you knock. Harsh, loud, and ultimately unforgiving if ignored.

"Seokmin, open up! I know you're alive!"

A mutter of "Barely," carries through the door before he clearly answers with a curt, "I'm not feeling well but I'll be fine."

"Open the door."

Silence.

"Please."

The silence continues — and your temper flares. "Don't make me go get my bag and grab my lock-picking set!"

You can hear sounds of cursing and some rustling around before the door slowly and reluctantly opens, Seokmin hiding in the shadow it casts.

"As you can see, I'm quite fi —"

Both a coughing jag and the firm push of your shoe interrupts his confident statement. "Sure hope you weren't about to say you're fine!"

A faint smoky scent permeates the pod. You cough and pause to let your vision adjust to the darkness. The first hint toward Seokmin's unusual behavior because he thrived in the sunlight, no matter how weak the sunrays that reached the floating ship were. Then second, you blink in wonderment at the black heaps littering the bed and floor.

Feathers. Everywhere.

Reminiscent of the time you'd broken Seungcheol's ridiculously expensive pillow against Mingyu's bulky bicep during a good-natured fight with Seungkwan's assistance. But instead of an explosion of brown and aqua toma plumage causing you all to sneeze, these were inky dark like the night sky and resembled piles of soot against the pod's stark white backdrop.

You whirl around to find Seokmin retreating to the corner of the room, hands slamming on top of the dresser for support. His back is to you with two thin wings jutting out from it. Feathers rustle as he pants, shoulders coinciding up and down with the motion of the wings.

"Seok, how did… how did this happen?"

It's not fear that causes your voice to tremble but worry. The appearance of his natural Plant form is no longer shocking. In fact, the more you see it, the more you find it eerily beautiful. Probably similar to those who believe them to be messengers of a higher power. But he's only ever transformed in dire situations — either due to stress or the rare exhaustion of his superhuman abilities against stronger foes.

He doesn't reply so you take a cautious step forward. An animalistic growl erupts from his throat, followed by a pained groan. You gasp as he shakes, protrusions rupturing from the lower parts of his shoulder blades. Two more wings burst out and unfurl below the trembling ones already quivering on his back.

So that's how they hide and reappear.

"Is it 'cause you're sick? Choi said you've been staying out all night. You could've caught a cold or something's in the air. Never know what's floating around here." You babble as you frantically search for signs in the mirror above the dresser for any hints to what's caused this.

Seokmin's bent over and you note what should be brunette roots of hair are now pitch-black too. Closer and closer you creep until you can make out each bead of perspiration trickling down his neck and how they coat every bare part of his body in a sheen of sweat.

Then his head snaps up. An eye — unshielded by the black fringe of his red-brown tipped bangs — narrows to glare into your widened ones. A tempest of electric blue rages within it. Like the hottest type of fire, it burns more than you could ever expect in a vortex of one prominent emotion.

Desire.

An involuntary shudder overtakes your whole body, and you unconsciously bite your lip. Seokmin slumps back down, granting respite from that ardent azure glow.

"Sick," he snarls and laughs, strained. "Sick in the head, that's for sure."

"How… how can I help? What can I do for you?"

"Get out."

"Seok —"

"I'm serious, mayfly. For your own good. Leave."

"My own good?"

"I'll, hah, I'll explain… explain it later."

Your arms cross. "Oh, really? Or will you avoid me again? Like you have been for the past several days?"

"I haven't —"

"Don't you dare feign indifference! I'm not stupid — we talk about our feelings and then you retreat. Just be honest with me… please."

You promised.

He sucks in a very deep inhale through clenched teeth, seeming to regret it instantly because his grip on the edge of the dresser is hard enough to crack the strong material. Glowering at your reflection again — not daring to acknowledge your very real and extremely close presence in the room — Seokmin bares his sharpened and widened incisors in a snarl.

"We will talk, mayfly, please believe me. Now's… hah… just not great timing with… with what's happening."

Irritation easily gives way back to worry. "At least tell me what I can do for you. Should I get Jun?"

"He can't do anything. Gotta just… work it out of my system."

"Work what?" You frown, knowing how rare it is for the medical specialist to be stumped.

"It's not for certain…" Four different wings flutter in agitation at various speeds. "Not a lot's known about Plant physiology," his mouth turns downward, "even I don't have a thorough understanding."

"Is it a disease?"

"Wish it was that simple."

"You're talking in riddles and running verbal circles, Seok."

"… Dokyeom and I are independent Plants. Likely the only ones, well, you know — still functioning. Alive. When Rem found us, research was obviously done."

You know the story very well and nod. "And had been conducted before."

"'Course thanks to Rem, it wasn't as invasive but there were, hah, occasional talks. Theories. And then, of course, before us twins, there was…"

"… Tesla."

A Plant with a lifespan of only two-hundred and thirty days.

Seokmin swallows. "Tesla. Yes. I recall bits and pieces. Hypothesized with Luida and company… Outside of Dokyeom following the unethical methods humans sometimes conduct for experimentation," he snorts at the irony, "it's thought that Plants… can copulate… with a mate… of their, hah, choosing."

"Really?" Your eyebrows raise, intrigued. "That's a brilliant discovery!" Then they furrow. "Wait, are you saying that this," you wave your hand to gesture at his current form, "is because… you're, er, ready to… mate?"

He holds his head. "… Yes."

"Oh, okay. So, you need like… relief? A mate? Should I…?"

Your questions hang uncertainly in the air, unfinished because you're really not sure what you're supposed to even offer. A sarcastic smirk graces Seokmin's lips, condescending in the sort of way that's aimed more at himself.

"What kind of man do you think I am, mayfly?"

"A very, uh, Planty one for sure."

"Better than leafy, I suppose."

"Though you are quite… feathery."

Finally, he turns toward you, a wry and defeated smile on his weary face. His wings stretch outward and curl back in, elegantly waving toward you as if drawn in your direction. You can't help but smile at the object hanging from a cord around his neck.

"You still keep that old thing around?"

He looks at the golden cartridge and chuckles. "It's special."

"Me holding a gun to your head was special?""Meeting you will always remain a treasured memory, no matter the manner of how it happened." Seokmin falls quiet, lost in thought before hesitantly asking, "Did I not mention Plants mate for life? Well, at the very least, I know I do."

"Oh." Your astonishment reveals itself in a breathless gasp. There's no escaping that all-consuming, fiery cerulean gaze. "So is this the first time you've been… ready to, uh, mate?"

"No, I'm used to the way these cycles come and go. But this for sure is the worst bout yet."

"… Why?"

You hold your breath. He takes a step forward. Then another.

He's so close, if you leaned the slightest bit forward you'd press up against each other. Somehow, with an overwhelming sense of shyness guessing the underlying thoughts and what his answer will be, your eyes roam his bare upper chest and torso.

If you could caress him you would. All the shiny black feathers adorning his wings and the occasional ones sprouting along his forearms pointing to his Plant abilities. Each scar along with every bit of metal or his body's naturally grown wood that replaces chunks of lost flesh. He's kept them as reminders of when he's failed humans, though you've seen them only as when they've failed him. He shivers, like he can feel it, as if he knows what you're thinking and you questioningly re-meet his burning stare as he shoots you a wane smile.

Sheepishly, he rubs where the cybernetic arm attaches to his shoulder. Many have turned away in disgust or mock pity at the disfigurements. Yet despite the true abomination he looks like right now, there's only ever been pure empathy and acceptance he doesn't deserve — all from you.

"Conscious consent and reciprocation."

Your lips turn upward, joy causing your soul to unwittingly sing. "Does that mean… I'm your mate?"

"No."

It's like Gunsmoke completely collapses, and you're left twirling without footing in space. Seokmin matches your fallen expression with one of his own.

"What? Wh-why?"

"Don't get me wrong, it's —"

"I swear if you say 'It's me, not you'…"

He rather adorably tilts his head. "How did you know?"

"It's a typical cliche," you roll your eyes, "just give it to me straight, Seokmin. Is it 'cause I'm human?"

"… It's not that simple, and this isn't something trivial. It's — hah — it's a huge commitment." The use of your given name indicates his seriousness. "A lifetime one. For me, it's only ever been you… and it will always be you for as long as I live, which could be your whole lifespan! And I don't, hah, I don't know — hell, it's taking everything I can not to tear a dead man apart, let alone what I'd do if you'd change your mind, want something — someone else."

"You're doing it again, projecting and underestimating my feelings for you."

"It could be the effect of my pheromones, mayfly. We don't know every —"

"That's right! We don't know! So we have to trust each other and see."

"It's —"

"Let's not subject ourselves to the hypothetical. And what do you mean by dead man?"

Seokmin's jaw tenses, fingernails digging into numb skin. His wings waver, like they're considering cocooning around him for protection. But their tips simply flutter as if soothed by an unseen force, preventing them from enclosing completely.

Teasingly, you lean toward him and squint. "What else aren't you telling me, Seok? You pick a side hustle up that involves the deceased like Choi?"

He snorts at the audacity and doesn't take the bait. Instead, unfamiliar but still achingly familiar irises dart to your neck, tracing the silver chain laying against your skin. A dull sort of sadness fizzles out those blue fires and you clasp the shape of the locket beneath your shirt in realization.

"He was a boy, Seok. A boy I grew up with for a short period, one that felt like a brother to me."

"… You said you loved him."

"When?"

"… To Cheol. After you first met him."

"That would've been so long ago? How do you even remember that?"

He sighs, heavily. "It's not easy to forget. Your voice was so warm, so gentle, so in love when you admitted it."

"Love can mean different things! And I assure you, my feelings for you differ greatly from how I felt about him. And… he's… he's long gone, Seok."

Guilt burns in his eyes. "I know. Which makes me all the worse."

"No, it doesn't." You shake your head, a resigned smile resting on your lips, and hold your arms out. "'Cause I understand and forgive you. And most importantly, I love you."

It's uncertain if those words break or restore him, but the hard rigidness in his body melts away, sagging in a semblance of relief. Then he rushes forward into your waiting embrace, wings helping to propel him forward until they wrap around and press you to him tight, tickling areas where his arms aren't squeezing around you.

"And I adore you, my lovely mayfly."

You groan. "When will you stop calling me that?"

"Never," he snickers and you feel the curve of his lips as he comfortably nuzzles into the crook of your neck. "For as long as you're mine."

"Yours?"

"Mine."

"Sucker."

A chaste kiss brushes the lower tip of your ear. So ticklish and unexpected, you pull back with a giggle and playfully swat his shoulder. And just as he's about to dive forward and prove your little comment correct in retaliation, you burst into full-on laughter that leaves Seokmin to settle his hands on your waist with confusion crinkling his brow.

"What?"

"So that's why you were always having a deathly staring match between my childhood memorabilia?"

"… Was not."

"You — the most sentimental loser ever — definitely were!"

He pouts momentarily, the cute jut out of his lower lip quickly transforming to a devious smirk. "You'd bet on it?"

"Totally." You place your arms around his neck, bringing your bodies closer again and matching the charge of electricity with a clever tilt of your lips. "I'd win, too."

"And what's on the table?"

"Sixty billion double dollars, of course."

"That so?"

"Mhm, and it seems like someone's bounty matches that worth."

Seokmin quirks a brow. "Seems like you want me on the table."

"Winner takes all?"

"Mayfly, I've always been yours."

"Sap," you laugh again.

A bright grin certainly declares your delight in victory, though your partner in crime uses the distraction as an advantage for his earlier loss and wastes no time. Diving in, a sharpened canine grazes your pulse point, automatically causing your head to tilt to offer easier access. Two left wings sweetly swoop down for support, feathered tips tenderly brushing your forehead.

The heat of his tongue placates the dragging scratch of his fangs. Though it sears you alive, heating your entire body from the tips of your toes, swirling in your core, and concentrating beneath Seokmin's lips on your skin.

When reaching that cold, familiar necklace you treasure so much and he can't help but loathe, it's seized between his teeth before he registers the action. Tugging it away from your neck like a dog, you wonder if he'll even shake it like one. His eyes follow the length of the chain, focusing on where the locket pops out above your chest.

You raise a questioning brow. "You gonna just play with my jewelry or take my clothes off?"

"Oh," Seokmin whispers, jaw dropping, and suddenly stands stiffly at attention.

You watch, entranced by the bob of his Adam's apple as he visibly gulps. Large, calloused hands — so practiced in undressing you for baths and patching up wounds — falter as they skim along your sides in a fleeting touch. Smiling encouragingly, you intertwine your fingers with those of his prosthetic while leading the other one beneath your shirt, the rough flesh of his palm blisteringly hot against your stomach.

"Is this okay? Can it help calm your Plant powers?"

"Yes… but that means… giving yourself to me… forever."

"Can't think of anything I'd enjoy more."

Confident, you trail kisses up his jaw to his cheek, stopping near his ear. Playfully tugging at the earring hoop as you pull away. Then you break away and bend over, shimmying off your shorts in one smooth motion. Stepping out of them, next goes your top. As each fabric hits the floor, Seokmin's eyes become more lidded, heavy with want. Smoldering. Desiring.

Four black wings fan out and stay as rigid as his stance. As if they're waiting with bated breath. And when you finally stand bare before him, he sheepishly drags his gaze to the floor with a flustered smile.

"I'm the one naked and you're embarrassed?" you tease and his posture relaxes.

"Because you're a vision to behold."

"Says the one who looks like an angel."

You back up until your knees hit the side of the bed. Like those morbid tales that depict curious listeners following a luring call to their demise, Seokmin's only a step behind you. He doesn't dare let his eyes stray further from your own, a goofy grin on his face.

"Consider this my fall from grace then, mayfly."

Gingerly, you sit on the edge of the mattress, waiting for his next move. He towers over you in this position. Formidable in appearance yet oh-so-gentle when picking up your left hand to kiss your knuckles and rub his thumb across its faded scar. Another smooch gets placed to your inner wrist and you hold your breath at the passion in those blazing cyan depths that refuse to look away. Then, a cautious touch to your shoulder urges you onto your back. Obediently, you lay down and a bunch of stray loose feathers fly up into the air upon impact.

"Beautiful," he murmurs.

The clothed knee resting between your legs helps his arm support the weight of his body hovering above you. A tentative hand slides down from your shoulder to your hip, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Caressing every scar, memorizing each color and swirl of ink decorating your skin, and erasing any insecurities or blemishes you see in yourself. Cold digits draw whimsical shapes and tickle your abdomen, stopping above your pelvic bone.

"May I?"

"Of course."

Seokmin rejoices in your consent by littering your collarbone with love bites. And his touches move lower, tender despite their mechanical nature. Warmth blossoms and flows under every surface of your skin Seokmin's traced, coiling and settling in a pulsating — almost painful — heat rupturing between your legs.

Only he can be the one to relieve this ache which he precisely aims to do. A simple, single brush across sensitive folds instantly has your breath hitching, shaking beneath him.

"Are you alright?"

"Mhm… yes."

He audibly gulps at your unexpected whimper of ecstasy, reluctantly tearing away from watching amorous bliss overtake your facial expression to the wet heat detected by his pointer finger's sensors. A feral growl rumbles in his chest at the debauched sight of desire beginning to dampen your thighs — the trace of what he's been smelling from you now overloading every single one of his senses as he coaxes more to flow from you. Seokmin's more than thankful for his enhanced vision and the glow of cybernetic technology baring your most intimate parts to him.

Guided by an instinctual impulse, he eases a finger inside. Your back automatically arches off the bed, eliciting a sweet gasp of delight. The cool touch of the digit seized tightly by the pulsating walls of your cunt slowly warms as it adjusts to the welcome intrusion. He soothingly brushes the knuckle of his middle finger across the soft outer flesh of your pussy to relax its grip. Eventually it lets up enough to let him explore further and deeper than your own have ever reached.

"I'm… I'm not sure how best to please you," Seokmin admits, drinking in your every reaction to his curious ministrations. "But there's this urge, this need, to make you feel good. Prep you properly for my… my entry."

By pure accident, he strokes a rough patch of nerves that makes your eyes roll back, hips lifting at the sensation of wanting more of whatever that feeling was, and your quiet noises melt into a loud, needy moan.

"More," you plead, "touch me more, Seok."

He eases his other finger inside without question, grunting at the squeeze that almost prevents him from moving to where you want him the most. But unlike the rest of his quivering body, the prosthesis remains steady, still, and patient. Waiting until it can bully itself and a third finger past your entrance's vice-like clench.

You start pulling on your breasts, trying to alleviate the tingling in them. Seokmin observes with a keen eye and a toothy, fanged grin. After a bit, he leans down to let his tongue trace the underside of one mound, leaving behind a saliva trail shining in the unconventional lighting as he tends to the next. Alternating with playful nips and naughty tugs to your nipples whenever your grip on them falters from the overwhelming pleasure.

So attentive and eager, soon you're writhing beneath him as you hit your peak. One hand grips your hip tightly, surely to leave a bruise with the way it cramps. His other doesn't let up, well-oiled mechanisms continuing to pump in and out of your trembling pussy until you whine from the overstimulation.

His wings fold protectively around both of you like a canopy as you share a tender kiss. Dazed and happy, you tenderly brush back black bangs and play with one of the feathers that's sprouted near the hairline above his ear. He shivers.

"Let me take care of you too."

"Are you sure? What about your shoulder?"

"That's the least of my concerns right now."

"I can still…"

"Later. First, I want to help you."

Suddenly, Seokmin's shy again, flushed cheeks darkening. "I… I think I'm a little different… down there so it's okay if you don't want to… or get scared."

"It's not like I've seen enough dicks to compare whether what you're packing is normal."

The both of you share a goofy laugh that eases the presumed awkwardness. He sits back to unbutton his pants but you stop him.

"May I?"

You might as well have knocked the air out of his lungs. He stares at you wide-eyed and then emphatically nods, finally clearing his throat to squeak out, "Sure."

Ignoring the aftershocks of your earlier orgasm, you sit up and kneel in front of him. Intent on a few minor distractions, your mouth and hands start at his shoulders to work their way down. Imagining you have the power to heal the damage dealt to his body and soul through tender touches.

You see a sad sense of beauty and justice in the patchwork of metal bolts and bark. And as you apply marks of love that bruise and blossom between them, he lets out a content warble. You're quick to undo the button of his pants, both of you gasping at the utterly wet mess seeping through the material when you tug the zipper down with your teeth.

He lifts his hips to help and once he's just as naked as you do you take him in. Anatomy was meagerly touched upon during your days at the convent, so truthfully all you're aware of at the sight of his heavy cock is the need to be filled with it.

And the closest thing to take him is your mouth, jaw already aching before you even open it. Almost reverently, your hands wrap around to stabilize it. Seokmin hisses pleasantly at the contact.

"You don't have to —"

He's cut off by a groan as you inquisitively suckle the tip. The copious amounts of slick smearing from it and down the base taste sweeter than Seungcheol's lollipops and you moan heartily, causing his thighs beneath your elbows to tense at the vibrations.

"Oh, mayfly."

A wing caresses your cheek that bulges as you take more and more of him, Seokmin's hands tearing at the sheets. The tip of another wing tantalizingly drags down your bare back. Your hands begin to explore, finding the puffy edges around the slit from which the thick cock emerges from. His hips jolt upwards at the contact to sensitive tissues, causing you to gag.

"Ah, 'm sorry!"

While he whispers repeated apologies, you're only compelled to take him further. Slowly you get used to the stretch, but no matter how much more you're able to squeeze down your throat there's still enough of his length for both of your hands to play with. It gets easier the more aggressive you get, his cock seeming to respond to your vigor in tandem. Soon you're lost to the haze of whether you're bobbing your head up and down or it's swirling languidly in your mouth on its own accord.

Seokmin's hips stutter but you feel the tremor first pulse against the inner walls of your throat. His cock throbs as you pull off of it, hollowing your cheeks and parting with deliberately powerful suction. A loud pop releases its tip and your hand supports its weighty girth falling forward. You dig the nails of your free hand into the muscle of his quaking thigh, ducking down to teethe at the puffy slit from where his cock must emerge.

Moving on to licking and dragging the point of your tongue along the sizable vein lining the underside causes Seokmin's low groans to turn into a high-pitched trill. Once you reach the swollen, leaking head and nibble on the hard glans, it spasms wildly and finally erupts. From the top slit seeps sweet syrupy fluid that readily overflows into your awaiting, open mouth.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," he blabbers.

You'd reply that there's no need for gratitude, perhaps you'd thank him, but the viscous release keeps spilling out. Rivulets trickle well past your lips and coat your chest. Although still in a euphoric daze, his eyes flash with sharp satisfaction. Instantly possessive at the sight of your bare body decorated so erotically.

His wings snap open — filled with purpose — and your face is pressed down into the mattress. Surrounded in a smoky musk as the angelic monstrosity it belongs to and destined to be your mate hovers above.

Your voice comes out hoarse as you raise up onto your elbows and spitefully spit out a black feather. "Do those wings of yours prevent you from being topped or something?"

"I'll let you find out another time, partner," Seokmin huffs, laughter evident despite his apparent breathlessness. He steals a tender kiss, pleased grunting at how your lips — shiny and swollen — taste of him. "But for now…"

Like an anchor, the tech material warmed by your shared body heat and passion winds underneath your hips, keeping them raised. A calloused, ticklish touch roams traces your spine. He draws an occasional spiral here and there as he goes, mindful of your wound, until firmly pinning the nape of your neck to the side, creating the perfect arch of your back.

"I think you'll like this," Seokmin says as if he isn't liking the view below him.

But for you, straight ahead lies the dresser's mirror. It reflects the full manifestation of an independent Plant poised to devour a human in the most intimate sense. The fearsome size of his cock lies heavy on top of your ass, leaking droplets of arousal all over your backside.

"Will it fit?"

"Of course, you are mine to claim and take." His hips just forward and you both moan. "I think we're both wet enough to try."

"I trust you."

"Let me know if it hurts in any way and we'll stop right away, mayfly."

Many troupes of desert-traveling dancers have mesmerized you before. Yet even they can't compare to the graceful and smooth motion of Seokmin releasing your neck to align his tip with the entrance of your cunt and slowly bullying his way in.

Tears of pain mixing to unfathomable pleasure blur the vision of your mouth widening to let out whines and moans. "Seokkie…"

"Mhm, mayfly… my love… my mate."

Finally, the front of his thighs are flush against yours. Hips pressed tight against your ass. Fully sheathed inside your tight hole, neither of you have ever felt such intensity before. He surrenders his body weight on top of yours, hands braced outside of yours clenching loose feathers and silk sheets. The outer heaviness matches the intensity of what your pussy struggles to accommodate.

"Mine."

Seokmin's hips swirl at a slow pace. Rather than thrust, he massages the sensitive glands at the base of his cock with the soft flesh of your ass. His length seems to shrink and grow and writhe with a mind of its own, filling and teasing you nonstop. Leaving no surface of your inner walls untouched or untended to for too long.

"Yours."

You shudder in blissed-out delirium and Seokmin lights up — literally.

Fluorescent lines glow in distinct patterns across skin, brightening the more he starts to pant and build up your shared pleasure. Sharp canines prick into the skin of your unmarked shoulder as he wraps his prosthesis under your stomach to raise your hips, the new position driving you faster to that rapidly approaching edge. You cry out with a lurch, blurrily making out his glowing form that shudders above.

Though the view in the mirror gets hidden by black wings stroking your entire body. Teasing the underside of your tits and tenderly brushing away the stings of his teeth marks.

"I-I love you," Seokmin rasps.

"Love…" You manage to enunciate the words, mind emptying and drool wetting the bed as your second peak approaches. "Love you too."

Pain and pleasure draw forth an onslaught of your apparent arousal that lecherously mixes with the frothy mess dribbling from his cock. Claws appear on Seokmin's right hand, another addition to the bestial Plant features emerging in the throes of passion. He's not completely lost to the primal thrall though, able to resist from breaking skin.

Delicately scratching your waist without drawing blood, then using the finely pointed tips to pluck and tease effortlessly at your clit. You cry out, body shaking as waves of euphoria crash against the shoreline of imminent pleasure.

Seokmin helps ride out your peak with a couple of speedy thrusts. The feeling of his hips slamming into you has you seeing more stars than Gunsmoke's galaxy contains. And just as you're overcome with too much stimulation, he lets go with a particularly strong bite into the top of your shoulder.

His cock softens and its heavy weight like a blanket along with the continual pump of his warm, soothing release. The feeling of it leaving none of your inner walls untouched feels as sweet as it tasted on your tongue and helps ease the ache inside your cunt. Still joined together and slick with stickiness, he collapses onto his side and gently assists you with rolling over so you can face him.

"Hey, you."

"Hello there yourself, lovely mayfly."

Your nose wrinkles but gets smoothed out by feather tips playing with the ends of your hair. Seokmin smiles as you snuggle closer into his chest so two of his wings can cocoon around you as the heated fervor from prior activities cools.

"Did that help?"

"… Yes," he says though his tone wavers with hesitance.

You raise your chin and see the electric blue luster hasn't faded yet from his gaze. Sheepishly, the corner of his mouth raises and you shiver, feeling the swell of his cock stretch out your pussy. The bulge it creates brushes against Seokmin's abdomen and he twitches.

"Sorry, it's… I'm gonna be kinda insatiable now that I've had a taste…" He trails off, wings snapping behind him. Slowly, he pulls his hips away and you both hiss as his cock is dragged out.

"What are you —"

You're cut off by the animalistic glimmer in his gaze, catching the feral smirk that he attempts to hide by licking his palm. Quick as lightning, Seokmin fleetingly swipes the outer lips of your cunt and brings his fingers, tonguing at them. Body set aflame again, neither of your break eye contact as he moans headily.

"But not of this," he rasps.

Before you know it, you're staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stickers on his ceiling with your mate between your legs. His wings trail along your calves, their flexible ends curling near your inner thighs, encouraging them to spread and stay open, pinning them in place.

"Oh, aren't you a beauty?"

He moans shamelessly at the sight of your messy, glistening pussy. You squirm at the ticklish sensation of his feathers and that smoldering, ravenous look. If only he knew what it was like to see him devour you with his mouth.

Delicious.

Just like the feeling of his tongue working its way inside and licking up the shared essence of your releases.

Your fingers weave between strands of hair as black as night, tugging lightly and accidentally snagging one of his ear feathers. He moans eagerly, and the vibration has you shuddering, already quickly nearing another mind-shattering orgasm. But you don't let him carry you there too fast, smooth brain muscles trying to form a question.

"How… long… how long do these cycles last?"

Seokmin presses a loving kiss to your twitching clit and blows, entranced by how you clench around nothing. Then he smirks, elongated teeth shining in the darkness like a predatory warning though you have nothing to fear.

"As much as you can handle but… we're really only just getting started, mayfly."

The motion light kicks on as Seungcheol shifts his boots in the direction of the unlit kitchen area. Junhui and Minghao's entrance awaken the rest of the lights and they frown at the makeshift bunker set up.

"What are you three doing in here?"

Seungkwan sleepily mumbles a curse word and next to him, Mingyu blearily rubs his eyes. A scattering of empty pudding cups and bottles lie around them as well as a disorganized array of poker cards.

"We're afraid to venture out of here."

Junhui shares a secretive look with his closest friend at Seungkwan's cryptic words. "Ah, so that's happened. Or happening."

"'Bout time y'all came 'round. Time for ya to pay up!"

"Pay up for what?"

"Compensation. 'M the one who got the closest to bein' right knowin' they'd fuck after confessin'."

"If anyone needs compensation, it's me for the mental damage of having to make one of my lovelies into an enhanced sex toy."

Seungcheol guffaws. "Ya didn't! Ya lil cheatin', schemin' scientist!"

Meanwhile, Mingyu looks mighty concerned. "Does that mean Seokmin has a dildo for an arm?!"

Minghao crosses his arms with a steely glare. "No."

"Oh good. I don't think I could look at him the same."

"I don't think any of us will ever look at him the same again."

Junhui eagerly rocks back and forth on his heels, hands stuffed in the deep pockets of his lab coat. "Do you think they discovered all the functions and benefits of it yet?"

"Should be our next bettin' round."

"No more bets. I don't care if it's half a double dollar to go in, I refuse to go through this again."

Mingyu elbows his raven-haired companion. "C'mon, your heart's warmed by this!"

"Warmed and consumed by the rage and fury of hellfire, yes."

Giggling, the tall man smiles widely and holds his hand out. "Alright, I win then!"

"Win what? Thought you didn't remember your bet."

Mingyu purses his lips. "Only because none of you took me seriously and joked with a bunch of gross innuendos when I said they'd find their home in one another!" He then sighs dreamily. "But if I'm right, we'll know by tomorrow morning."

"Who says it'll be tomorrow mornin'. Might take weeks. Months even, I reckon'."

"I'll kick you all out before it comes to that," Minghao threatens and runs a hand through the few strands of hair without a bead. He tosses a wad of money in front of Mingyu. "Never involve me in this again."

Despite all the grumbling, everyone has a sense of lightness in their hearts at the thought of their dear friends finally getting together. And the happiest of them all is Mingyu, who cheerily gathers his prized double dollars, dreaming of all the pudding he can buy.

A lone figure stands on the edge of the valley of the Melca Border. The Sea of Sand, aptly named, can change tide and turn vicious at any second. Their cloak billows in the sandy winds that whip around them, though even the steadfast hood can't hide the satisfied smile on their face.

"You did well," they commend and the name that falls from their lips is one some might consider lost to the sands of time.

"Saintess." Another figure materializes out of the sand gusts in response to the praise. "It is to be done as you said."

"Very well. Shall we go now?"

Whether it's the mysterious sands that swirl around and whisk them away or the lost technology cube that transports them, no one will ever know for no one ever saw them. Like ghosts, they disappear and find themselves outside the real ghost town — where it all began.

A toma croaks in the distance. Brave travelers dare cross the ruined wasteland and the saintess meditating atop one of the largest rocks hidden in the shadows opens her gray eyes tinted by lilac in the glow of the moons to observe. Despite all of her traveling, the white robes wrapped around her body remain in pristine condition.

She turns behind to look at the man standing over a scattering of stones, staring intently at one of them. With poise and purpose, she dusts off her clothes and strides over to him.

"Chan."

Brown eyes tear away from his own name carved into the headstone in front of him to look at the one who's said it aloud.

"Yes, Saintess?"

"Do you regret it?"

"No. Never."

"Good," she states, satisfied with his response. With a grand sweep of her hood to cover short, dark hair, she gestures to the east. "We will set up camp one more night before returning to the Saint in the morning before he speaks with our Master."

Chan mutely nods, following the saintess back into the desert where she confidently leads him to a cave that will shield them from the unpredictable nature of Gunsmoke's wastelands. He thinks of you, the girl he must keep safe and two brothers. One with wings as pure white despite his continual revelry with hate-filled darkness, the other bearing ones the complete opposite color of his twin — a wild card.

He reminisces over the Blessed and Holy Sisterhood of Little Ivywood, the convent and all the orphans that lived there. Pondering Sister Meryl's role, who stands before him now as the revered Saintess, leader for the Eye of Joshua and second only to the Bishop of the cult named after himself. She moves curious little statues back and forth across the surface of a large flat rock and the young man can't help but ask her a question in the unnerving silence.

"Do you think this will work?"

Meryl smiles elusively, as always. She picks up the smallest one with a deliberate flourish, placing it on a blackened space close to the last row of alternating squares carved into the stone's surface.

"Have you ever played chess before?"

"No, what is it?"

"An Earthern board game. It is quite complicated." Gesturing to the piece she just moved, she continues. "This is a pawn, the weakest of all chess pieces."

Chan bristles. "But strength comes in numbers, no? There are eight of each color, surely the right side can find a way to win."

Unfazed by his agitation, the saintess nods placatingly. "With the right strategy, even a pawn may become a queen — the most powerful. Unpredictable." She points to a white figurine with a cross on top of it. "Enough to checkmate a king."

Entranced, Chan watches as she rearranges and repositions various pieces across the faux chessboard. Soon, the pawn that took on the mantle of a Black Queen captures the White King. His eyes roam what's left on the battlefield at the end of the match, pointing to one that looks like a tower.

"What's that one?"

"A rook. It best supports an allied pawn towards promotion from behind the scenes." Her eyes sparkle mischievously. "It's most powerful during the end of the game, as you can see."

Chan gulps, holding his breath for a moment, and clears his throat. "Then I'm ready."

"Wonderful," Meryl nods, "we'll depart for Master Dokyeom's stronghold in the morning. I'm sure Joshua, our dear Saint, will be… pleased upon our return."

"To the glory of the Black King's rise."

"And to the glory of our so-called queen."

Keep him safe, Chan thinks to himself as he settles on the ground. And yourself. One day we'll reunite in the most joyous of occasions…

He pulls out a faded wanted poster with the infamous outlaw worth sixty billion double dollars, donning a wishful smile before closing his eyes and murmuring, "I'd even bet this impossible amount on it."

onlyseokmins: April 2024 ©

#ez.creates #svthub #svt.smut #dokyeom smut #dk smut #seokmin smut #lee seokmin smut #svt smut #seventeen smut #kpop smut #trigun au #svt au #seventeen au

[moremousewrites]

To be Understood

Pairing: Minthara/ Tav (femme drow)

Summary: Being a drow, you found companionship with Minthara. Though your other companions found some of her characteristics offputting (and yours too, frankly) you could always relate to each other.

Tags: kissing, blood mention, nudity, comfort, fluff

Word count: 975

At camp, you and Minthara would usually eat meals together. You'd talk about the day's events to process information and unwind and speak your mother tongue.

You'd get unsettled looks from your companions when you spoke in high drow or signed drow on the battlefield. You weren't trying to exclude anyone, it just felt nice to be understood without having to process what you were saying. At first, they thought you were conspiring against them, it was just idle chatter. Having spent so much time in the open, it was important to have something quiet and private you could share.

You were on the outskirts of Baldur's gate, eating some of Gale's cooking. You brought a bowl to Minthara and sat next to her by the fire. 

[What is it tonight? More fish heads?] She grimaced at the bowl, unpleased by the contents. 

[Not tonight. It looks to be sausage stew. You should be grateful we're not drinking wine for dinner again] you nudged her with your shoulder and began digging in. Gale's cooking was very resourceful. You were just not always fortunate to bring enough supplies to camp for a feast.

Minthara chewed a lump of meat and stared into the fire. [I need wine to wash this down. Or perhaps forget I ever tasted this. One more meal like this and we eat the wizard] she complained. You loved her attitude, it reminded you of your childhood friends. 

“Minthara, Tav, I trust you're enjoying your meal from the pleased sounds I'm hearing” Gale interrupted, making his way opposite of you.

Minthara held a stiff, unsettling half-smile. It was supposed to be reassuring. You stifled your laughter as best you could to encourage her socialization. She was trying her best. A little too hard.

“It's great, thank you, Gale” you confirmed. 

Minthara looked to you. [Why did you laugh? Is the stew poisoned?] She asked, completely serious. For your sake or hers, you weren't really certain. 

[No! I didn't mean to laugh, sorry. You just don't need to act like them. You can be yourself] you explained.

Minthara became noticeably offended. [I would not ever aspire to have a commonality with these people. I act as myself, only] she snapped at you. You nodded, seeing how you upset her. 

[I know. I only meant they would accept you as yourself. They aren't going to change you] you assured her. Minthara relaxed somewhat. After being manipulated by the Absolute, she was glad to be accepted as herself. 

She was often on guard around you. Around everyone, really, but she treated you like an equal. But being an equal in her eyes meant you were a threat. You understood because it was how you were raised. If your life hadn't changed in your youth, if your choices were made for you, you might've been in Minthara's position right now. It was because of your upbringing that you were so empathetic to her. She despised your allegiance to the Seldarine. You tried to avoid the subject. Though converting her was a nice, selfish fantasy, it would have to stay a fantasy. 

You looked up from your bowl to her, she was staring at you. [What?] You looked around you and saw no threat. 

[You're filthy] she observed.

You looked back at her. [Excuse me?] You allowed yourself offense. You'd been sleeping in mud for days of course you were filthy.

Minthara reached into your hair and felt at a mat you'd been ignoring for a while. [Pathetic girl. You're a poor representation for our race. Thank the dark mother you're no longer sworn. You would not be worthy in this state] she put down her bowl and stood up, offering her hand to you. [Come. I will bathe you since you are incompetent] she ordered. 

You put down your bowl and took her hand, begrudgingly. [I can wash myself. I've received the message, thank you] you rolled your eyes at her but left to grab a wash basin from your tent.

Your companions watched in confusion as you and Minthara walked away to fill a tub with water.

Minthara had you walk to a water pump and strip naked in the middle of the night. Stranger things had happened. 

You let her scrub your limbs raw, rubbing them mercilessly with the sponge. When you hissed at the pain she smacked your thigh for talking back. 

[Spoiled girl has everything done for her. Can't even comb her own hair. Did you have a handmaiden comb your hair? Were you the only daughter of your house?] Minthara ran water over your head, washing the blood and dirt from your hair.

[Yes Minthara, I was very rich and powerful and noble] you felt a comb tugging at the knots in your hair. She took her time, starting from the ends and making her way to the thicker knots. You sat patiently on the grass as she worked through your hair, making a point not to hurt you. When you shivered, she wrapped a towel around you. When the comb finally slipped through your hair without resistance, you were completely dry. Minthara tied your hair in a braid and placed it on your shoulder. She left her hand on your back, as if she were waiting for something. 

[Thank you. I needed that] you said, comforted by her touch. 

[I don't doubt that you were privileged. I would have liked to spoil you. Had you been my lover in Menzoberranzan, we'd have been indomitable] she said, oddly… nervous. You realized she was confessing to you. 

[We still could be. Perhaps not in Menzoberranzan, but here and now] you went to look at her and she pulled you into a kiss. Minthara held the kiss as long as you let her. It felt nice to be in her arms. To be understood.

#bg3 #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #minthara baenre #minthara/tav #minthara/reader

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

eternally, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: A creature in love with his creator, the void deity that will eventually consume all life essence.

warnings: rated M (18+) – character death and undeath; light descriptions of gore; mentions and interpretation of death (perhaps skip if you have death anxiety); supernatural; drinking blood; gothic romance? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯; smut (fem reader, fingering, m-receiving oral, unprotected vamp/god sex); non-idol!AU - vampire?Jungkook x void/death deity!reader

honestly I completely understand if you don't read this because quite frankly you're about to realize the inner workings of my mind are absolute WACK

--

“Are you afraid of death?”

 You thought about it. “No.”

“Are you sure?”

You stared into those eyes, dark orbs made darker in this low light, and thought about it again.

“I’m sure.”

His knuckle caressed your cheek, hardness to softness, creating a strange pressure of bone to bone, jaw to finger joint, and you tilted your head to relieve the feeling, but he silently refused, pressing harder. You let it be, watching his eyes trace the shape of your lips.

“Why not? Aren’t you missing out on so many things? Won’t you be the cause of sadness for those that care about you?” he asked softly, silvery sweet with a hint of smoke, a gritty heaviness that was unsettling if someone else was listening but, to you, what was unsettling was comforting.

Natural.

“You miss out on many things when you’re alive,” you said, and he breathed in your words, his lips parting and inhaling, creating a sudden cold from his action. “And I’m the cause of many emotions, as well as trouble.”

You saw him grin from your periphery, a chasm of white in the darkness.

“Your humor is so sexy.”

You reached up. There was a thin cording holding the two sides of his frilled white shirt together. It was simply there for decoration. He could probably easily pull it over his head, but you hooked a finger at the top, slowly unlacing it.

“Don’t do that,” he hissed with an edge of annoyance.

“I like to make you wait.”

“You always make me wait.”

There was a childishness to his words that didn’t quite fit his face. Sharp eyes shifted to yours, lifting his chin, angles and curves, and then a flash of a small dot just under his lips. Innocent little mole that hid in the shadow of his lower lip, and now those lips parted as you pulled the white cord away, exposing his chest, skin pale now and, if you were close enough, littered with creeping dark veins under the transparency.

Missing.

He was missing something.

You leaned in and he inhaled sharply, backing up.

You breathed onto his skin.

“It doesn’t have to be me.”

The growl from his throat shivered and shook, like a dying leaf.

“It has to be you.”

You placed your hot tongue on the pocket between his collarbones and left a warm, dripping stripe of possessive spit down his exposed chest. Hot to cold, texture to smooth. Underneath the pulse of your wandering tongue there was only a whisper of thunder, slow and agonizing, the warning sign of the timeless on the edge of time.

“Tell me who you are,” he shuddered, closing his eyes at the feeling of your tongue.

You chuckled. He liked the little speech. You wondered why. Maybe it made him feel alive, listening to it. Maybe it made him feel smaller in this vast universe, knowing there was something grander. There was comfort in that. Maybe he just liked to know there was forever, because there was a time that forever was unreachable, but now it wasn’t.

He had you now.

You drew back, hot exhale falling from your mouth.

He leaned forward. His eyes half-open, drunk and attentive. All around you and him was darkness, but in his eyes was light, burning, burning bright.

“I am the black tongue, the God without a name,” you murmured, softly at first, and then stronger as he neared, his lips forming your words so that he was mirroring them as you spoke them. “The nothingness breathes, the hollow seeks, the abyss is me. I come for all and all to none. To dance the line is to live at the whim of the void, and you, Jeon Jungkook…”

He leaned in, lips to lips, breathless with the endless hunger.

“I am the whim of the void.”

Heat to cold and he took your breath away.

-

You stood at the side of the road, amongst the flowers.

Admired the photo.

He was heavenly and he had asked to be trapped in hell.

You came for all and all were to become none. That was the deal. You never said it was a fair deal. It was just the deal and you weren’t meant to change it. Not because there was something to report to, but more because the nothingness was meant to welcome all. Eventually. Occasionally, though, you crouched over a body and eyes found yours, beautiful dark brown eyes surrounded in blood, matted black hair haloed onto dirty asphalt.

Some would beg.

Some would cry.

Some would run.

You tilted your head, looking down at him.

You reached down and there was a fire within, passion undying, and he stared at you, large eyes knowing this was the end, surrounded by scraps of metal and a mangled tire that matched his mangled body. Once a source of pride and now the motorcycle was nothing more than mashed junk. The moment must have been a bit strange for him. You weren’t sure what he expected, but probably not a woman with spindly and lithe movement swaying towards him, covered in tendrils of dark clouds, draped in blackness that seemed to contain endless space that constantly swallowed the stars.

Everything collapsed within.

All to none.

Until the end, he breathed with every ounce of strength he had. Like he was gripping onto every second, every last fragment of shock that become pain that bled into euphoria because this was the end, there was nothing else, his organs were collapsing as his blood leaked out and sunk into the cracks of the road. This mountain road was empty. He was alone. No one knew he was here. No one was coming. You reached down, grasped his life essence. He continued breathing even when gazing into futility.

It seemed a waste to swallow this star, for now.

You twisted your hand and he woke up.

He became the endless hunger.

-

The ancient ones called you an old god. The modern ones forgot you existed and created new gods, gods to explain. To define the nothingness and the hollow thereafter. Either way, it did not counteract or change your existence. You suspected you could die, as all things could die, but you couldn’t really fathom how. Perhaps when all things were consumed and there was no more to make none, then you would cease to exist.

Until then, you toyed with the fabrication of death.

In all fairness, the various ideas of death the modern ones argued over may or may not have been your fault. Eternity was boring, after all, if you did the same thing until the end of time. Sometimes you snuffed the fires of life out immediately. Sometimes you let a piece linger, a shell of its former self, a spectral fragment you let wander until you felt like collecting. Sometimes you clawed and tortured it, twisting the essence into a new creature, a different one, and released it, a half-life crawling among the worlds until it could take no more and begged for collection. Sometimes you reformed it, mashed it with something else and let it rekindle to burn again.

In every shadow.

In every reflection.

In everyone, you waited.

All to none, by your hand.

But this one burned and burned, and you tilted your head, watching him die and seeing his life essence burn. You couldn’t remember if he could have been an idle creation of yours or a planned composition ages ago or some other entropy within you, so you decided to observe him longer as the endless hunger.

When he woke up, he reached out to touch your hand.

The physical form was only there if it was believed. With the modern ones, they had no recollection of the old gods or the void. But he burned, the undying passion, and he believed. In what, you were unsure of. Maybe he imagined this form for you when you arrived to him. You weren’t completely sure if you had a true form. There was no starting point except the sudden snap into being but you had no recollection of that because there had been no need to recollect. You could only pinpoint a few stages of eternity. There was no concept of time for you; there was no meaning in it.

You were only aware of time passing as beings slowly but surely forgot you existed in this expanding universe.

“Who are you?”

His voice was a whisper, a shudder, a dying leaf.

You told him then.

He seemed confused. You saw he maintained some memory of who he previously was. Sometimes that happened. There was no certain intention when you acted on a whim. You weren’t seeking a particular outcome this time except the instillation of amplifying his passion into something grander. The various effects usually depended on the quality of the essence.

He held your hand and used his other hand to graze his clothes still caked in blood and torn tissue. His own. He pushed his own fresh remains around. Still wet, liquid red pooling at his fingertips, and he brought it to his lips.

Jungkook tasted his blood.

Hunger.

It was palpable, stemming from his very being.

“Am I dead?” he asked you, brown eyes rising, and there was fear, despair, sadness.

You tilted your head.

“What is death?” you asked him in return, clad in layers and layers of endlessness that leaked into every crack of the universe to collect the all that would become none. “Is it when the thoughts cease? When the heart no longer beats? When there is nothing to believe in?”

He looked down at your hand. It was a normal human hand, by his standards.

“You’re warm.”

Jungkook raised his eyes after his observation. Clothes torn, covered in blood, craving blood.

“You’re Death, aren’t you?” he asked.

You corrected him. “I am what lies at the end of eternity.”

He nodded.

“Are you lonely?”

You stared into the undying passion.

“I am alone.”

You were not holding his hand, but he was still holding yours. You turned your fingers, interlocked them with his. His fingers were cold, but you were the heat, the heart of the void. You stared at him; his essence becoming your art. You seemed to remember now.

The hunger to feel everything before it becomes nothing.

You leaned in and breathed into Jungkook’s mouth, letting him moan into your lips.

It was the possibility of erasure that made art precious.

-

Of course, in the layers of the void, there was blood.

There was always blood.

Jungkook pierced his teeth into your wrist and the blood poured in. Warm, red, a different kind of blood than the mortals that surrounded him. Rich, celestial, and divine, the beginning of his eternity and the end of all things, pouring and pouring into his throat, coating his lips and sliding over his chin. He drank greedily, latching on. Dark, viscous, and with the hint of collapsing stars, brimming with so much life that it threatened to pull him down into your arms.

He collapsed, panting, red blood pooling down his chest in rivets of heat that burned his cold skin.

You ran the fingers of your other hand through his black hair, damp with sweat, chuckling.

“You take too much, as always.”

His tongue was on your forearm, lapping weakly, clutching your limb with astonishing strength. Color flared into his skin, tan and lustrous, supple with life that you wondered if he could contain. He looked up at you as you chided him, and there was defiance and desire, running his tongue over the blood, smearing his chest onto yours.

The layers of the void opened, hot skin to skin, separated by the thinnest film of blood.

You wondered the shape of your corporeal form was because he believed, because he wanted, because he was the essence of undying passion.

He went back to your wrist, but it was sealed now, closed by the stitches of infinity.

“No… please…”

You ran your fingers through his hair, nails over his scalp.

“Shhh. Enough for now.”

Art required a certain restriction, after all. You had to know when to stop.

His lips trailed your arm, up and up, scalding tongue scavenging what was left, shaking breath and frustrated at the denial, pointed teeth at your throat. An evolution of his original form, possibly an effect of your blood swarming through his mortal body. He still retained his original face though, his sense of self that he wanted to see.

His breath was hot now, teeming with life.

His fingers curled into your hair, the strands slipping through his knuckles so he gripped tighter, harder, lines burning through your being like white lightning in a black clouded sky. Higher, eye to eye, and then his lips touched yours. Metallic, exquisite, hungry. You gazed at him through lashes and he gazed back as your own blood seeped onto your tongue.

Those infinite astral workings, painted onto your tastebuds by Jeon Jungkook.

He was becoming your creation, your greatest work, and you didn’t even know you could have one to desire above all others.

Your fingers curled around his belt and you pulled it apart.

You tilted your head and caught his tongue, running your teeth across it, feeling and hearing his moan at the same time. He could feel a little of what you felt now. Every tendril of shadow, every shuddering last breath, essences melting into nothingness, into you, into him, blood between tongues and heat that knew no end, eternity between your bodies.

You could taste his greed for life and you fed it, gifting him with the endless hunger. You thought he would cave, surely. Most did, knowing they were monsters and that knowledge became insanity. Some embraced it and abused it to the edge of infinity, but at the edge of infinity was always you and you extinguished them without much thought. They didn’t… feel.

There was no…

Passion.

He ran his lips down your chest, grabbing your sides. Flesh and blood and bone under his fingertips, and skin at his tongue that turned him electric. There was no connection like this, not for him. The humans he tasted were a mere shadow of death and they did not compare to the taste of what created him. You could see it in his hunger, in the viscosity of his saliva mixed with blood, in the way his eyes rolled back with his lips around your nipple, his other hand on your breast, a mix of soft and hard, tension rising all over his body above yours.

A dreamlike nightmare, the undying passion and the void that consumed all.

You had seen the humans he feasted on. You came for all and all to none. His path to destruction could be argued as necessity, but you knew better. A vampire was a myth born from humanity. Jungkook wasn’t that. He was the whim of the void. He could stand in the sun and seduce the flowers. Because fragments of you rooted him to life, he could bend the essence of others onto his will with his mere suggestion. And death?

Why, that was how you met and continued to meet.

Stabbed, shot, run over. Hunted, trampled, torn apart. He could be gutted and you could reseal him with stardust, pristine and beautiful, back onto his own two feet like absolutely nothing happened. He lived many different lives, falling into different roles and exploring the curiosities held within the world, but they were not enough.

The endless hunger craved the end, and the end was you.

Perhaps he knew you could extinguish him at any time, but perhaps he also found a twisted pleasure in you extending his time. He was feasting less and less on humanity. More and more, he walked the edge of infinity, let himself starve in this grand mansion he somehow obtained, a silent shadow waiting to join the abyss.

And you would come, and he would live again.

You almost asked him each time if he wanted to beg for the nothingness, but then you would look into his eyes and they burned, burned bright despite his cold skin and paper-thin voice, just like the first time he died, and so you granted him the blood of the void each time.

You raked your nails down his back and watched his body entangle with pain.

Maybe you could call him your primary worshipper now. Not that you had any others, not since the ancient ones. You had walked among them then and they had clung to you, life embracing the void, but now you walked among the beings of the universe and no one knew you were there.

A shadow.

A blink.

Nothing.

Muscle and tension and tightness under your fingernails. His mouth on your chest, his fingers slipping and creeping down, slipping into slick heat as his tongue brushed across your skin, sharp teeth grazing, threatening to break what he could not. He bit down across the curve of your breast and plunged two fingers into the fire, but soon lost his strength in his jaws, melting into the heavy scent and the sensation around his fingers. Tight, wet, pulsating, constricting all around. He shuddered, pushing in and out just to feel it over and over, the pads of his fingers curving in, deeper, a squelch joining his moan.

His tongue pressed to your nipple, drowning in the sensations.

It must be addictive, because he was not just feeling a body, but all it was connected to, amplifying the undying passion within him, clutching his essence, slicing into his very being and pouring into the cracks, hunger and blood and satiation that seemed unbound and infinite.

Faster and harder, intensifying the pace, not enough, never enough, staring into your eyes with your blood smeared on his lips. Only capable of doing and feeling, for it was so much and he wanted more.

He was the embodiment of endless hunger.

“I love you,” Jungkook breathed, heavy and weighted and the words collapsing from his mouth like he couldn’t hold them in.

You lifted your hips to follow his hand, deepening the stroke, and he was driven by your response, seizing a fistful of sheets and roughly pushing his fingers into the inescapable heat, pleasure so great it threatened to devour him.

“That is your greatest honor, isn’t it, Jungkook?” you whispered to him, spindly and lithe, as if the words were painted in the sky, hovering in darkness that only those who searched for could see.

He nodded, red lips trembling, accented with a silver ring and the small dot that peeked out from the shadow of his lower lip, quivering in anticipation.

You smiled.

“Then, I love you.”

You saw him smile, your blood clinging to his lips.

You seemed to remember the great gratification that was acting on a whim when you were with him.

You reached up and pushed his hair back, letting it all waterfall through you as you stared at his face, angles and glazed eyes, metal at his brow and lip, no more paleness, your own blood in his vessels washing him with color and life.

His lips opened and he groaned, feeling your muscles ripple and squeeze him, covering his palm with sticky, heady sweetness. Pressing his fingers into you, feeling every throb through his fingertips, heated by the cosmos, and he lifted his hand, fingers drenched in a glossy, sticky shine, and ran his tongue over them, devouring it like it was your blood.

You watched him drinking your taste off his body, your fingers in his hair.

Once again, your form is what he believed in. What he desired, wanted, craved. He was more than human now, but once upon a time he was merely a human and humans sought meaning in the nothingness. It was now clear what meaning he had chosen to follow. Now he believed in nothing, so he gave nothing the meaning he has associated with living.

Love.

With his wet hand, he covered yours, shuddering as he pressed your palm to his cheek.

“You’re… warm…” he gasped out, shivering in the grasp of the abyss.

Your thumb rubbed against his cheekbone, caressing him.

You opened your mouth.

Your tongue slid out, wet and writhing, in between full lips and exposing the endless chasm that was your throat, and Jungkook was the star dragged into that black hole, letting go of your hand and crawling onto the sheets. Large, dark brown eyes glued to your face, clumsy and collapsing, barely out of his pants and throwing his head back as he slid his hard cock down your throat.

He was the undying passion driven by an endless hunger.

You let him hit as deep as he could, the head buried into the depths of your throat, and your tongue encircled him, around his balls and the base, drawing patterns and shapes in swipes of saliva. His knees slid apart, but he locked them, drowning in the sensation and pleasure that was your dancing tongue and your throat wrapped around him, tight and pulsing. The wet walls could close in, then release ever so slightly, hovering to remind him they could close in again, and then they did, over and over, tongue and throat and his face to the ceiling, to the sky, to the void of space and the area you dominated.

His hands seized your head and you pressed your head back into the mattress.

Slow and tight and all over.

He could feel it, but mostly he could feel himself. Satisfaction and hunger. Fullness, then denying himself that fullness. In and out, so wet it was loud, sloppy sucking sounds from his erratic movements, shadows casting over his body as he hunched over, muscles tense and taut and hot breath wafting down, furious pace complimented by your tongue following the line underneath, manipulating the sensations. Pressure and saliva and slickness, keeping his nerves on the brink of breaking, the strain evident in his hips and core, almost too much, almost, gasping, panting, flicking sweat onto the sheets.

His head snapping back, his moan so sudden that it was a crack into the humid silence.

“Oh, fuck!”

He poured down your throat, thick, strong, heady, the taste spreading out of your throat and splashing onto your tongue. You swallowed around him, consuming it, and he whined uncontrollably, hard and tense body twitching from the suffocating sensitivity.

Your wicked wet tongue circled him, toying with his balls.

You felt his desire.

He wanted to taste you like that, with your mouth full of him and his mouth lingering with your blood.

This was eternity, molded by your hands.

You held his head to yours and curled your tongue in the cavity of his mouth, eating up his cries, wrapping your legs around his hips. He reached between you and him, and then he was intertwined in the abyss, into unbearable heat and pressurized slickness, swallowed by sensations, your teeth clutching his tongue, your nails down his back, your hips rocking into his, messy with no real rhythm, but soon it all fell into place, the stars aligning to your grand design.

Your nails crawled up his neck and onto his scalp, cascading pins and needles of pain as he panted against your lips, driving his hips down and gasping as yours smacked into his, repeated collision of wet, hard, tight.

You framed his head with your fingertips.

Jungkook looked down at you, eyes burning bright, carnal, driven to pursue the end to his hunger you did not give. On the edge of infinity, throwing himself over and over and each time you pulled the strings of your puppet, dancing him back to life, the very essence of undying passion drawing pleasure from this cycle.

Jungkook tilted his head, his tongue sliding out.

He exhaled.

Hot and heavy and teeming with life.

You felt it wash over you, his breath powered by your blood.

He grinned, and, like a reflection, you grinned back.

You sunk your nails into his head and he rammed his hips into you, radiating power, heat, and the elegance of uncontrollable thirst, his mouth opening, sharp white teeth and the chasm of darkness within his gurgling throat, trying to make a sound but failing because it was too much, too much, your walls closing in, your thighs squeezing his sides, your mouth opening and your tongue lolling out, seen but untouched, and he whimpered, wanting to come down but your hands refused, pinning him to your grip.

You saw the strain in his neck, his shoulders, his chest, could hear his heart beating for you, from you, with you inside it.

You were the god without a name, so instead Jungkook let out a low-pitched, guttural moan and shot his eyes up to the sky, towards space and formless time waiting to be touched by your fingertips. He burst within you, heat to heat, a messy squelch and jerking bodies, and you consumed it all, his sound, his feel, his physical form succumbing to the highest peak, similar to how he was when your blood touched his lips and poured in.

Burning.

He collapsed into the abyss, and the abyss held him, caressed him, held him up by his strings.

“I am the void,” you whispered to him.

“I am the whim of the void,” he gasped back, and he held onto you, held onto you as long as he could, his meaning of life now the nothingness he loved that refused to cease his endless hunger, but that was all he wanted – to wander, to waste away, to be reborn again, to touch infinity, eternally, because he would never know the end.

Oh, to create, to destroy, those alone meant nothing.

--

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you

[witheredoffherwitch]

hello there! just wanted to send an encouraging ask as I very rarely look at any hotd-related content on here (due to the lack of critical thinking that can be found and the pure vitriol spewed through anonymous messages - many lovely mutuals have also received horrendous anons telling them they should be physically harmed since they do not enjoy an incestuous crackship and that’s absolutely unhinged!) and you’ve handled these absurdly obnoxious, transparent anons in your inbox with grace and eloquence. it’s been a year and many moots on twitter have learned to keep to themselves regarding opinions related to alys/aemond and how it could possibly be interpreted as a gothic tale/romance (as they keep tabs over there too) but it’s truly pathetic and unsettling to see how a certain part of this fanbase CONTINUES to spew their hate and try to incite a reaction. rooting for a female character to be sexually assaulted simply because one is bitter over an incestuous crackship not happening is the definition of childish and frankly very odd. there’s already more than enough of that in this whole franchise and aemond taking a woman by force is simply not in-keeping with how they’ve characterized him in the show (as you’ve aptly acknowledged) and is very unlikely to happen (much to their displeasure). their relationship is not a fairytale but that doesn’t mean it has to include that at all.

anyhow this ended up being way too long but wanted to commend you for dealing with this pure nonsense from Those shippers! I’ve turned my anon option off to avoid this sort of behavior and moots who think alys has alot to offer as a character have received tons of hate while minding their own business. it’s been a year and they are STILL insufferable. seems they cannot cope with the fact that she will be in the show and that their ship is not happening. very sad. in any case, gayle seems like a very dedicated actress and she and ewan are surely to have an interesting screen presence together. can’t wait to see what they bring as a duo chemistry-wise and their performances! 🥰

Ahhh Cecilia!! I'm so sorry for getting around to your message so late, but I am all the more grateful to you for reaching out at the time. Aside from those two anons (to whom I so eloquently requested to throat my cock), I think I did a pretty good job at handling this ongoing dissent. Thank you so much once again!

I am so sorry that you guys had to deal with this kind of nonsense before, BUT I seriously hope that these anons have not deterred your enthusiasm for any Alysmond content. We barely make for a moderately-sized Kpop girl group -- and I hope the few remaining girlies are still active to keep this small hive humming and buzzing. Alysmond is a ship that will sustain irrespective of what the show follows - i mean, we have other crackships that are still going strong after all. We should grant ourselves a bit of freedom to express our creative interpretations of the narrative.

Coming to what you said about Aemond's depiction in the show, I 100% stand by that take. He's not shown to be an unreasonable brute who will take someone by force. Moreover from whatever leaks we've got till now (though I would take them with a grain of salt), Gayle's Alys is also made to come off as a very kooky character. Regardless of what they show on-screen, I am already drowning ten-feet deep into these headcanons -- IMAGINE the first interaction between Alys 'a barn owl cursed to live in human form' Rivers and Aemond 'tis I who studies philosophy' Targaryen. I don't care what anyone says because that's a recipe for deliciously dark and romantically gothic meet-cute. That's our quirky cursed witch and menacingly tortured kinslayer! If Condal messes it up, then we have enough material to draft multiple fucking AUs for ourselves. LOL I've even suggested earlier how we only need Gayle in Alys' costume -- because rest assured, we'll do the rest with moodboards and countless video edits.

I am extremely tight on schedule since I am doing my Masters while working a full-time job -- and because of that, I am short on producing the kind of content I'd like BUT hopefully, I can get something out by the end of this month. To be very honest, I actually don't really mind crackships (I read them all the time and have shared links to some of my favorites) but what really annoys me is this constant need to put down other ships to justify your own little delulu headcanons.

Anyway thanks for reaching out once again, and you are welcome to take a nice cushy spot in our coven.

Love, Kalki. 🤗

#anon asks #lovely sisterwife 💕 #alysmond hive #coven convening #hotd fandom #shippy discourse

[polychaeteworm]

Feel free to delete this if you'd like, but your post about endo systems reminded me of a conversation I had with my therapist years ago. I have diagnosed DID from trauma and I told her I often fear that maybe I'm just making it up. We talked about how DID is a response/coping thing and how, regardless of if I "actually" had it or not, it helped my mind through a lot of hard shit. So in the end she asked me if it truly made a difference, I said no.

I'm almost 28 now and frankly have seen plenty of life experiences that are so different from mine, so how could I ever know to tell someone if their experiences are valid or not, ya know? So basically thank you for that post because it made me really think.

No problem! You're very welcome. I write these posts to make people think and to kind of inject nuance even if my nuance isn't always effectivly communicated lol. I appreciate asks like this because they give me an excuse to info dump, so here I goooo..

I unfortunately have a lot of experience with running away from my DID label and needing to frame my system in a way that doesn't cause some alters distress while still healing and being in touch with reality enough to be functional because a lot of my coping mechanisms are tangled inseparably from maladaptive daydreaming.

This would (and still does) have me defining and presenting myself in ways that would make my system look fake. I was the "in denial trauma system" these people say endos turn into and frankly this doesn't make me doubt the validity of endos any less. If they are in denial traumagenic systems, that is sooooo personal! You are absolutely correct about the variability of the human condition and how much it really doesn't make a difference how it all looks in the end as long as someone is coping and healing!

To me, the structure, presentation, and way a system forms is such a sacred and sensitive thing that is so different from person to person that it really can't be picked apart and fully understood by strangers in the way people seem to want to do with Syscourse on Tumblr.

I spent most my life (literally childhood on into college) telling people very non ironically that I am an alien. Because I am autistic I was just traumatized by existing in the world, I was born traumatized, and my autism was received as a supernatural occurrence by my abusive mother (a fun story for another day), so I truly have zero memory of ever being a singlet, or even feeling like a human. Therapists and authority figures outright refusing to engage with this aspect of my condition is what actually did me harm.

I didn't actually heal until I found the therapist who approached me with "ah, ok you're several aliens, how interesting! So let's make sure you can human as best as you can while you're here on earth." Instead of "you aren't an alien, and you are one person, grow out of this." And I've tried! I TRIED SO HARD to be a single human and failed, all I have left of that struggle is a nice mask and invader zim-esque "the humans are onto me!" levels of imposter syndrome.

Why would we, after all these years ever tell someone that they should "just stop pretending" because we don't agree with the way their disorder presents? I'd rather just say something like "hey -specific toxic behavior- is causing me distress, if you don't stop I gotta stop interacting with you" and not attack the basis of their entire mental health journey. It took me a while to learn that one so that's why I'm like "young adults please wait till your brain is done cooking before attacking people".

Deep down though I think my opinion on Syscourse and why I spend so much time writing about this comes from the fact that a core component of my systems trauma is being told that I don't really know my(our)self. And to be seeing takes that endos are "lying" by tons of people who are so much younger than I and the people they fake claim is... honestly unsettling to my system for a number of reasons.

And it's not that I ever think of these people as "stupid kids" it's that I think a lot of younger folks with an anti endo stance have yet to develop an understanding that their experience with mental health isn't universal and that life is not black and white. That latter realization being a hard won understanding, especially if you have mental illness of any kind. I just feel so crazy when people on Tungle hell site think their opinion of someones mental health is more important than what that persons therapist says. Like why. Your disordered need to express pain through negativity because you were hurt badly is showing fam.

But yeah in closing, I had a similar conversation with my own therapist about faking and he had a similar "does it matter" take. He also has been very straightforward with how he believes that if there is something someone is doing as a coping mechanism that psychology hasn't explained yet, and that mechanism is working as intended while conflicting with the DSM, there is just more research to be done.

Im reminded of a Ted talk where a linguist basically explained that a word not being in the dictionary, doesn't make it not a word, it just makes the dictionary incomplete. What makes a word a word is it serving a function in language. Humans police the dictionary, not the other way around. My therapist agrees that the DSM and mental health as it happens to people irl is in a similar situation. It's not a mental health Pokedex, it's so your health provider has a road map to go off of and can charge your insurance properly. It's the collection of what we know and we don't know everything.

I really just dream of the world where we don't have to introduce ourselves as systems with a performative defense of a lived fact.

#orn rambles #forgive me for the wall of text #autism #discourse #Syscourse #actually did #did #anti endo #pro endo #there are definitely typos in here

[sweetlittlevampire]

I wonder if it’s time for some Spite Art again.

#Sweet is rambling #I just received a frankly unsettling ask #that left me a bit insecure about some of my drawings not gonna lie #at the same time something tells me whoever sent this is a HUGE troll #and I kinda wanna give them the middle finger by drawing exactly what they criticised me for #because I still think their claim has no basis #but yeah

[yoonpobs]

bad boy good thing xviii. | m [last chapter]

pairing: jeon jungkook x oc

genre: angst, smut, fluff, miscommunication (we hate her lol), pining

warnings: sad and happy tears, growth, so much cuteness, smut, face-sitting, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, jk's body o-o, mentions of a quarter-life-crisis, the END ;(

words: 15, 628 (!!!!!)

summary: a series of drabbles where you’re confused and jungkook’s confusing

a/n:

oh my god!!!!!! we're finally here. the last chapter of bad boy good thing. honestly, it feels surreal to even say because I couldn't ever imagine it getting this far, especially with the love and support that it's gotten along the way. I've grown attached to the characters, especially since I was essentially writing them through each chapter and it's nice to see that they've grown along with the story.

i wanted to end the story in a way that's both satisfying and necessary, and I really enjoyed writing this chapter despite it being the last one for bad boy good thing :(

thank you so much for everyone who has read this story and has shown so much love and support that I frankly don't know if I deserve or not. i hope you enjoy this chapter, and find it as pleasurable to read as it was to write.

[and on another note, I'll be opening up an Ask My Muse for bad boy good thing, so please drop any questions that you have for the characters in my ask! I'll release it all as a separate post at a later date 🥰 happy asking!]

- pobbie <3

What people don’t ever tell you about change is that you can never plan it. No matter how stringent you claim yourself to be in following timelines and the zero hour—life will work out in the way it’s supposed to and you’ll have absolutely no control over how things will play out. Usually, these thoughts unsettled you. Your routine was the most important aspect of your life because it never changed. It was always to keep up with how you’ve got by so far, kept the people you were already comfortable with close—and never do things that you were uncomfortable with. A routine was perfect—for you. Not for the people around you.

To a certain extent, you couldn’t even fault people for saying that you had a stick up your ass. Though there were definitely far more constructive ways of pointing it out—you knew that people were simple yet utterly complex creatures. Often, they made split-second judgements in scenarios that required more thought and care. While on the other end, simple decisions were decided with rigorous usage of your brain muscles that lead people in creating unreal, unsolvable and frankly—uncomfortable—problems.

But complexity was unnecessary and unhelpful. Especially when your heart and mind are on two completely different pages. Yet, they remain the two organs that play the most vital role in keeping you alive and sane. People are aware of the internal conflict that most face when it comes to making rational decisions, though verbalising these exact sentiments never come easy. How do you accurately depict a struggle that is both so universal yet so personal all at once? It’s a paradox that only continues, and as humans, we add fuel to that already blazing fire.

You suppose that time did indeed dictate all. It was linear, continuous, and perhaps a social construct. Nothing worked out in a timeframe, yet we adhere to strict rules of day and night, do or don’t yesterday and tomorrow—we followed time because that was the only thing that allowed us space. You didn’t understand when people said that things will just feel right, because how could something feel right? Right wasn’t tangible. It wasn’t just a direction, it wasn’t just the socially acceptable option—it was a multitude of things. But like most things in life, they only become real when it happens to you.

And today, it felt right. It felt like time.

It could have felt right a week ago when you first got your tattoo. The impulsive yet not-so-impulsive decision felt right. It felt uncomfortable, terrifying and frankly—stupid—but it didn’t for one second, feel wrong. But somehow, the tattoo being right was the only thing that you could truly feel. The apology you owed? Not quite.

Not even when your friends carefully gauged your reactions to let you know that Jungkook was joining your group for lunch a few days back. You missed him, your heart definitely did—but your mind did tell you—it wasn’t right. So, you let them know. The right time will come, but until then, you’ll do your part and allow time to dictate your next steps for you. They didn’t pry, though you could tell Jimin was curious while Namjoon remained concerned. You didn’t need to explain anything. What would you say, anyway? Your existential thoughts were candidly absurd to be comprehended by most. It was things that ran through your mind, not necessarily needing to be shared.

You don’t know if it’s the tattoo, or if it’s Jeonghan, or if it’s Jennie, or if it’s Jungkook—of if it’s just you—but there was something that you buried deep down in your chest for a long time, and it finally felt big enough to leave. To let go.

Maybe it’s because you officially turn a year older today. The impending doom of a quarter-life crisis washing over you while you frantically decide that you didn’t want to take the mindset you and in the first twenty-five years of your life along with you into the next chapter. It could be a multitude of things. But you woke up today, weary yet determined—and you knew that it was the right time.

“Happy birthday!”

You’re welcomed with an overexcited Yena as she topples into your body in giggles and grins while she wraps her arms around you. You stumble back but catch yourself before the both of you fall over. Though you’re surprised, you can’t help the smile that makes its way to your face—sincere and happy.

“Thank you,” you laugh, hugging her back as you rest your head on your shoulder.

She hugs you for a while longer, as if you were going to head anywhere but into the apartment, you rang the doorbell to. You don’t complain because you know she likes this. It’s her way of telling you that she’s happy and glad you’re here. You understood her well enough to know that the way she clings to you is her love language and you appreciated that.

When she pulls away, she’s still beaming. It’s almost comical to see Yena so happy. Not that she wasn’t on a daily basis. But her facial expressions were usually limited to her usual stoic appearance and misleading resting face that intimidated people. This Yena was a cheerful puppy waiting to be played with.

“Very Gemini of you to turn up late,” she says snootily, eyeing you up and down as you roll your eyes.

“By five minutes,” you clarify.

“I’ll let it pass only because it’s your birthday,” she pinches your cheeks as you nearly bite her finger off at her attempt. You’re about to finally enter the apartment but her hand on your shoulder stops you from getting far. “New outfit?”

Her question makes your eyes dart down to your attire. You take in the relatively risqué apparel you opted for today. But in reality, it was simply just a cropped tank top and a pair of high waisted jeans that showed a little bit of your skin. You weren’t thinking much when you reached for the outfit, your only intent was to show off the tattoo you got. But now as Yena ogles you further, only do you realise how different it is from your usual style.

“Yeah,” you breathe, even if your heart rattles a little in anxiety, “Is it okay?”

Yena grins.

“You look gorgeous,” she compliments before she’s gripping you by your arm and dragging you into Jimin and Taehyung’s apartment.

You stumble forward, and you’re greeted by blown up balloons that wish you a happy birthday, along with streamers and party hats that adorn your friend's heads. They’re all beaming at you, eyes crinkled into thin slits as you laugh at their keen endeavour.

“The birthday bitch is finally here!” Yena hollers, queuing the loud horns of streamers that Jimin and Taehyung attempt to deafen you with as Namjoon slams his hands un-rhythmically against a tambourine.

Your eyes soften ever so slightly when they finally rest on Jungkook, who’s slightly tucked away from the rest but yet still carries a sincere enough smile on his face. You know him well enough that it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and your heart clenches for a split second when you recall the reason. But you hear the birthday song be led by Taehyung, and you’re snapped out of the mini-stare off you and with Jungkook.

“Happy birthday to you!” He all but shrieks, drawing closer as you wince, “Happy birthday to you!” Taehyung ditches his instrument to wrap an arm around you while the rest of the circle you like prey as you laugh at their antics. “Happy birthday to ____, happy birthday to you!”

Your cheeks hurt from laughing and smiling, and your heart feels content with the way your friends continue to huddle around you, squeezing you until it hurts to breathe. In the best way possible.

“Is this what icon treatment feels like?” You snort.

You spot a grimace on Jimin’s face, even if you know it’s a light-hearted jibe. He rolls his eyes but tugs you to his chest fondly anyway, his arms immediately providing you with a sense of warmth in a friendship that’s lasted for over a decade.

“Don’t get used to it,” he warns, “I think I’ve exercised all my festive spirit this year.”

“My birthday is in September, you know,” Namjoon interjects.

“Then celebrate it by yourself,” Jimin sticks a petulant tongue out that Namjoon gapes at.

“It’s my birthday month too.” And for the first time, Jungkook speaks loud enough that it has all of your heads turning to him. The millisecond of silence is loud enough for you to hear, and perhaps to everyone else too. Your cheeks heat ever so slightly, but Jimin—ever the observer—picks up on this immediately.

“Hm, no wonder the two of you are so alike,” Jimin mumbles off-handedly, a glint of mischief painting his tone.

You don’t miss the insinuation behind his words as you shoot him a glare that you hope isn’t as obvious to the rest as it is to him. He smiles innocently before ruffling your hair, hopping away towards the table of assortments that they likely prepared for the celebration.

“Happy birthday!” Namjoon walks over with a dimpled grin, arms immediately open for you to lean into as you giggle at his exaggerated expression.

“Thank you, Joonie,” you beam up at him.

Namjoon gives you a tight squeeze before he reaches his arm towards the couch where you only notice the small box that lays atop of it. Your eyes follow his arm where he subtly (or not so) hides it behind his back that makes you shoot him an unimpressed look, your heart immensely thankful but the gesture still flustered you.

“I got you something,” he mumbles.

You whine, “Joon.”

“No, none of that,” he scolds, “I wanted to get you something, okay? Just let me gift the birthday girl.” He adds on playfully.

You scowl but receive the gift anyway, wrapping an arm around his waist as you admire the pretty mint colour the box was embellished in.

“You didn’t spend too much money, right?” You ask sceptically.

“And if I did?” He retorts.

You scowl.

“Namjoon.”

He sighs, “Okay, it was a decent amount of money but”—he stops you from returning to gift into his arms as he shoots you a stern look that you pout at—“I told you. I wanted to get you something. You’ll make me really happy if you accept it.”

You know he’s baiting you with his puppy eyes and you sigh at your resolve dissolving at his attempt.

“Fine,” you accept, “Thank you, Namjoon.”

He waves you off with a bashful smile as he urges you to open it. You abide as you carefully unravel the meticulously tied ribbon (that you’re kind of sure that he got help with) as you wonder about what he had gotten you. Namjoon was always a thoughtful person and you were really warmed by his consideration—so you knew that whatever he got you, you’d love.

Once you finally reach the end, you lift the lid as you gasp—an intricate ceramic planter that mirrored your favourite animal—a cute rabbit that peers up at you with wide eyes. It’s a pale yellow, with a red ribbon carved around its ears as your face crumbles in adoration.

“Oh my God,” you marvel, “It’s adorable! Thank you so much, Joon.”

He grins at you as he leans forward to admire the piece with you.

“It’s a customised order by one of my favourite ceramic artists,” he tells you, “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

You nod your head vigorously as he chuckles at your awestruck expression.

“It is,” you breathe, “God. It must’ve cost a lot, didn’t it?” You accuse playfully with narrowed eyes as he rolls his own at you.

He brings his finger up to his lips to mimic a lock before he throws away the key, smirking at you when you huff petulantly. Nevertheless, you were touched and you absolutely loved the gift. It was very Namjoon and very representative of what you liked—and what he did.

“Thank you again, Joon,” you murmur, engulfing him in another fond hug that he returns with equal affection.

You’re not sure if it’s bad taste to hug someone like this when they had feelings for you. But Namjoon was a great friend and a great person in general. But when you peer up at him with gentle eyes and he returns the gesture, you know that despite it all—he’s a friend that you’re willing to fight for.

Before he can get another word in, the presence of another person hovers by your side as you feel their shadow loom over you. You release Namjoon from your tight hug, and his eyes briefly dance across the guest as he smiles knowingly to himself, shooting you an equally implicative glance that makes your throat clamp up. You recognise it intimately; and even if you didn’t. You knew that only one person would induce this type of reaction, especially in the current setting.

“I’ll … I’ll leave you two to talk,” he smiles, and that’s when your head finally turns, face facing Jungkook who stands awkwardly by your side with his hands stuffed into his pockets. Namjoon squeezes your shoulder to bid farewell for now, but you know the implication runs far deeper than it did. “Hope you like the present.”

Namjoon leaves with a smile before you can muster a thank you. He leaves you with more than just a gift, but an empty space waiting to be filled. The person was right there, Jungkook hovering quietly as he awaits your introduction. You knew you knew that it was you who needed to take that leap of faith. His silence or perhaps his patience was a queue for you to take that.

Not here. But you’d do what you could with what you had.

“Hey,” you say breathlessly, offering a gentle smile to Jungkook.

He returns the gesture but his eyes aren’t settled on your face. They’re on your shoulder, or more specifically—your upper arm and on the comprehensive detail that marks your skin permanently.

“Hey yourself,” he replies equally as breathless, then he looks up at you with the same gentle eyes that you grew up with, that evokes far more than a sense of familiarity but thunder in your chest. “Happy birthday, by the way.” He says softly, knocking your elbow in a way that’s both friendly and hesitant.

You laugh softly, “You can ask you know.” You say teasingly, an attempt to defuse the situation. He was too tense. It was odd because it was definitely a switch in your roles. But you supposed it was necessary, the only way that you could grow and learn.

“Oh, I definitely was about to,” he snorts, “A tattoo, huh?”

You nod, twisting your body ever so slightly so that he gets a better glimpse of the artwork.

“Yeah,” you smile, sincerely pleased with the choice you made; albeit spontaneous and driven by the inherent need for change. “I took the leap of faith.”

He catches on your double entendre, and a small smile twitches on his lips as he nods his head slowly. He leans in closer to observe the work, and his eyes squint as if he was taking the time to appreciate the beauty of it. You suppose it’s the artistic side of Jungkook that pushes him to do so. He was talented, in more way than one. He knew what looked beautiful, how to create beautiful things—and definitely how to appreciate them.

“The line work looks familiar,” he peers up at you, “Did you get it done at the tattoo parlour by the book shop?”

Your eyes widen at his spot on pinpointing. Was it that familiar? Or was it just a tattoo-lover thing?

“I—yeah,” you nod, “How did you know?”

His eyes harden along with his jaw but he shakes his head off-handedly, shrugging his shoulders.

“I recognise it. Got some of mine done over there,” he mumbles, “Maybe not anymore.”

You know exactly what he’s referring to, especially when the second part of his sentence comes in as you freeze. You nibble on your lips, chest needing relief on the truth behind your tattoo. But you’d settle for the surface level honesty before anything else.

“Jeonghan did mine,” you blurt, “Maybe that’s why you recognise it.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen, next to his brows furrows, clearly displaying his confusion when the words leave your lips. You don’t fault him for his confusion, especially when the last interaction you had with him turned out more sour than pleasant—all at the hands of someone who apparently gave you your first tattoo.

“You—?” He starts, brain gearing to piece the information together. “He gave you your first tattoo?”

You nod your head, firm and resolute. You muster a smile, one that you hope tells Jungkook that it was far more than just him giving you a tattoo. It was a needed sense of closure that you didn’t plan for but somehow needed.

“Yeah,” you murmur, eyes peering up in a gentle and calm way. “I think it’s exactly what I needed.”

Jungkook accepts though you can tell he’s still slightly perturbed by the information. He still stares at your tattoo, though. He smiles ever so softly that you almost miss it, but you’re highly tuned to Jungkook’s every reaction. The smallest change of mood is easily picked up on, and you know that he likes it. That’s all that mattered to you.

“It looks beautiful on you,” he says softly.

You flush, fiddling with your thumbs.

“Thank you, Jungkook,” you say in a low whisper.

He shifts his weight across both his heels, hands still stuffed tightly into his pants pocket in a way that shows his restlessness. You can tell he’s thinking of something else to say, but can’t quite find the exact words. The situation is all too fresh, you suppose. You don’t blame him. You wanted to tell him that he didn’t need to feel that way, that you were done running. But you don’t think now is the time and place—not with the cackles of your friends as the background music, or with the promise of cake to be devoured.

He settles for a tight smile before he turns to leave, but you stop him before he gets far—your shaky hand wrapping itself around his wrist. Jungkook stops, head-turning over his shoulder with a raised brow as you clear your throat to prepare for the next words that leave your lips.

“Can we talk?” You ask, and Jungkook’s eyes widen. You realise the lack of context immediately as you flush in embarrassment. “After. I mean. At your place—or mine. Wherever works for you.” You stammer out nervously.

Jungkook’s gaze rests on you for a tense second as you nervously wait for his response. You almost think he’s about to say no, but a small smile makes its way onto his face that immediately soothes your nerves.

“Mine. It’s closer anyway,” he says, “Happy birthday, again.”

He stuns you by pulling you into an unexpected hug, chin resting on the top of your head as he squeezes you tightly but holds you contrastingly soft. You immediately melt into his hold, missing the warmth of his sincerity in the short yet long time away from him. You smell him, and he smells familiar. He smells safe. You sigh contentedly when he doesn’t let go, and neither do you.

“Thank you, Jungkook,” you repeat.

“I—” He’s about to say something but cuts himself off immediately. He pulls away, ears slightly flushed as he shoots you a brief grin before shaking his head. “Never mind. I’ll tell you later.”

Your head tilts to the side, but you don’t question his vague statement. You allow him to leave with a tender grin. You had things to tell him yourself, too.

“Hey, you,” Yena bumps into your shoulder with her own as you turn your head to face her. Her head cocks to Jungkook’s retreating figure where he joins the rest of the boys in an attempt to devour the assortments that you hadn’t had the chance to dig into just yet. “Everything okay?”

You smile gratefully at her before bringing her into a hug, surprising her ever so slightly.

“Yeah,” you murmur, “It is.”

And for once, you mean it.

“Sorry about the place,” Jungkook apologises when the two of you step into his apartment.

He’s referring to the pile of clothes sprawled across his couch and the numerous amount of art supplies that take up the floor space. You wave him off with a smile.

“Don’t mention it,” you say, “Your room, then?”

Jungkook raises a brow at you before you blush ever so slightly, catching the insinuative tone before you’re offering a meek smile and a correction.

“To talk.”

He nods his head in understanding before returning the gesture with a small grin of his own. He helps you with your stuff and sets it aside, as well as your shoes because Jungkook was meticulous about things like that.

When the two of you approach his room, you take a few moments of silence to get your thoughts in check. It’s terrifying, knowing exactly what you want to say but having no idea how to say them. You always told yourself that honesty is the best policy—but your mind races at a hundred miles per hour whenever you’re around Jungkook, and you don’t know if you have it in you to be eloquent.

His room is the same, and so very much like him. It’s neat and it smells fresh of laundry. He’s nothing like the stereotypical college student that dumps his laundry in one big pile (though the mess outside suggested otherwise), but you’ve always remembered Jungkook to have been a fan of tidy spaces.

He’s like this with his habits too. Strict and clean, always going the extra mile to ensure that his comfort was maximised in a cosy environment. And his room clearly represented this habit and goal of his in mind.

He gestures for you to sit on an old beanbag you fondly recall from your younger days where you’d sprawl across when you hung out with him. You know he took it with him to college for that very same reason. Well, before everything that has transpired between the two of you anyway.

Though things are not quite the same—you don’t wish it to be. You don’t want to be the same person you were just a week ago, let alone years ago. You wanted to be the person you were meant to be now. And that meant doing things you would’ve never done but should’ve done a long time ago.

Before you can plan out a speech like you usually do with any events you considered important, your mouth moves faster than your brain does.

“I’m sorry.”

Jungkook’s eyes shoot up from where it laid on his lap as he eyes you with a wide gaze.

“Why are you—?”

“I know you don’t think I need to apologise, but I do,” you say with a sad smile, “I owe you an apology, Jungkook.”

Jungkook purses his lips, hinting that he wants to say something but decides against it when he recognises the determined expression that lingers on your face. It’s the same one that you have when you really wanted to do something. Or at least had a plan on what to do.

He doesn’t interrupt that momentum, not when you take another deep breath.

“I’m sorry for not choosing you.”

He flinches, head drooping to his lap while he fiddles with his fingers.

“I’m sorry for not choosing you the first time,” you repeat, and his head glances up with a furrowed brow, “I’m sorry that it took me this long to realise that all I needed … that all I needed was you—not anyone else.”

“It’s not your fault.” He interjects softly.

“Maybe,” you shrug, “Maybe it is. But that’s not the point,” you say softly, “The point is that I was searching for answers everywhere else but where I could find one that mattered. I looked for answers in people, in the words of others—as if what they said somehow would change the way things were.” You murmur. “It didn’t.”

“Then why look?” Jungkook asks, the question heavier than it sounded. You know it’s because he wonders, too.

“It’s because I was afraid,” you confess, “I was afraid of so many things that I didn’t even know what I was afraid of anymore. I kept on making excuses for us—because that was safer than … than choosing. Because choosing meant there was a wrong choice and I didn’t want to make a wrong choice.”

Jungkook looks at you with a solemn expression before you begin to fiddle with your thumbs.

“My tattoo means a lot to me,” you tell him.

“Well, it’s beautiful,” he murmurs quietly.

“It means I’ve grown,” you continue, “I-I always wanted a tattoo. I just—I never got around to getting it until recently.”

He nods his head in understanding as he eyes the piece once more. He takes it in gently, not judgementally, and you can feel his smile than see it when your eyes dart to your lap.

“I’m glad you finally did.”

“Me too,” you say. “I’m glad.”

“But …” he trails off, “Jeonghan did it—right?”

You can hear the edge in his voice when he brings up a name that should’ve evoked a sour feeling in your chest. The discomfort is there, but just like anything in life—it would always exist. It was just a matter of what you focused on and what was your priority in that moment.

And now, when you see Jungkook, you know it’s not yourself—but it’s Jungkook who’s your priority.

“Yeah,” you breathe, “It didn’t matter, though.”

He raises a brow, “Really?”

You nod.

“He doesn’t matter,” you say softly.

You hope Jungkook gets it, that this is you letting go of the fear of judgement that took away such a huge part of your happiness—for the both of you. But you knew that speaking in riddles wasn’t what he deserved. He deserved to hear it—to feel it.

“Why not?” He asks, just as softly.

“Because no one else matters but you, Jungkook.”

Jungkook freezes, but you don’t let that deter you when you look up at him with gentle and resolute eyes.

“Because you were the only thing that should’ve mattered,” you say more firmly, “Because …”

You swallow when you realise that Jungkook’s staring straight at you.

“Because I love you.”

You don’t know if this is the first time you’ve said it. But it’s the first time you’ve allowed yourself to truly feel the way that you do. There’s no more judgement from your end. No more critical words on how other people may talk. There was nothing. Nothing but pure, unadulterated love.

“Is that enough?” Jungkook asks.

“It is,” you smile softly, “You are.”

Jungkook smiles, gentle and calm when you allow yourself to just look at each other. And for some reason, his face makes your throat clamp shut and your eyes water. It’s more than just him—it’s what had happened.

It’s the fact that you’ve been stalling for so long, hurting each other in the process when you could’ve just been honest. When you could’ve just chosen him.

You should’ve chosen yourself, too.

“Hey, why are you crying?” Jungkook asks softly, even though you hear a small smile in his voice.

He’s a distance away, yet you feel his sincerity, his concern. And that makes you cry harder.

“I’m sorry,” you choke, “I-I’m so sorry.”

You don’t leave your spot, too flustered to do anything.

“It’s okay,” he returns gently.

“I want to be with you, Jungkook,” you mumble, “I want you.”

Your second statement returns with much more determination, even through your puffy eyes that you’re sure made you look ridiculous. But you can’t think of anything more than you wanted—that you’ve prepared for.

“Me too,” he smiles, “I want to be with you.”

For the first time, you feel like your feet takes you further where your heart yearns to be. One moment you’re sat in the small beanbag that Jungkook keeps in the corner of his room, and the next you’re toppling over his startled frame and onto his plush bed. The two of you land (more so him than you) on his bed as his palm rests on your waist to catch you.

Your arms are wrapped around his neck while you helplessly sniff into the crook of his neck. Your heart lays easy and your body feels light. There’s still a fear in you but it doesn’t matter. Not when he laughs, clear and loud as you whine against him.

“Stop laughing!” You hiss, and your words sound clogged due to your stuffed nose, which only makes Jungkook laugh harder.

His hand squeezes your hips when you don’t bother to pull away, even with the potential of suffocating Jungkook to death with your body atop of his.

“Sorry,” he snickers and his apology is half-hearted at best. “You’re just—you sure you’re okay?”

His hand leaves your hips, much to your disappointment, but reaches up to your face to force your cheeks to peer up at him. He chases your wandering eyes playfully when you avoid his wide smiles, eyes still unalterably puffy from the tears you shed earlier. You were sure that the tip of your nose was still red and that your cheeks were tight with your dried tears. But he doesn’t relent, even if you threaten to bite his fingers off.

“Stop looking at me,” you snap.

He shoots you a toothy grin, “But you’re so cute. How can I not?”

You tuck your face back into his neck and make a noise of frustration, mostly because you were so flustered that you didn’t know what to do with yourself. Jungkook seems to enjoy your demise, however. He was definitely far better at the teasing than you were—that enough was obvious, especially when he coos onto the crown of your head while you pinch the skin at the back of his neck in warning.

He yelps, shooting you a playful glare that you return with you sticking out your tongue.

“Don’t be mean, baby,” he husks, and you’d be lying if the term of endearment didn’t make you squirm, both under his hold and his intense gaze.

“You were being mean first,” you pout.

“But that’s because you’re too cute,” he retorts smartly, “All I wanna do is be mean to you and see you blush.”

Jungkook’s grin is nothing short of mischievous as you gawk at his blatant admission. He doesn’t look embarrassed, that was your job. His job, was just as he said, to be mean to you and see you quiver.

“Shut up,” you scowl.

“No,” he smiles, and before you can get out another retort, or shove yourself off of him, he pushes the two of you up until you’re straddling his hips. Your head spins at the sudden movement as your arms leave Jungkook’s neck to scramble for balance, but the one arm around your waist is enough to keep you comfortably rooted into position—right on his lap.

Just as you’ve recovered from the sudden whiplash, you’re about to give him an ear of expletives until you realise that he’s yet to shift his gaze away from you. In fact, Jungkook’s just staring. Soft and gentle, yet wickedly all at once. Your faces are so close, and despite the heartfelt moment the two of you shared just moments prior—you still can’t help but get flustered at the proximity.

When you’re this close, you can see all of his pores. You see the freckles adorning his cheeks that he never quite grew out of, despite his whines. You see the scar on the top of his cheekbone, a permanent reminder from his rough-house days with his older brother. You knew he grew up to accept it, and you found it adorable. A necessary part of Jungkook that made him him. The slope of his cupid's bow is more apparent than ever when you’re basically pressed against his body, and foolishly, your eyes dart down.

You feel his breath on your lips, yet neither one of you moves. It’s intimate like this, just being held. You wonder if this is what you could’ve had if you weren’t too caught up in your own thoughts. You wonder if there was an alternate world where you weren’t as selfish.

“Hi,” he murmurs, breaking you out of your thoughts as your eyes snap back to his.

His eyes are still gentle, especially when the arm around your waist tugs you impossibly closer until you’re all but flushed against his chest, hands looping around his neck as the only space available for you to leave them.

“Hi,” you return shyly.

He’s gentle when he brushes the hair out of your face, fingers trailing across your cheek and down your face until it’s softly gripping your jaw. This time, his thumb rubs across your cheekbone and all you can do is melt into his touch. You’ve never felt so accounted for. As if you were being studied by someone who wanted to melt your feeling into memory. And the fact that it’s Jungkook giving you this attention makes your heart uncontrollably flutter.

“This is real, right?” He asks in a soft whisper.

“I am in fact, very real,” you joke, even if you know what he’s implying.

He rolls his eyes, squeezing your jaw in warning as you swallow. The heat in your stomach is soft, but definitely brewing. It didn’t help that you were precariously placed in Jungkook’s lap, where your hips could just inch—

“Don’t be a smartass,” he sighs before leaning closer to you, “Makes me want to do real mean things.”

Your body heats, but you’re empowered by some sort of confidence that you only get when you’re intoxicated with Jungkook’s warmth and scent.

“Then do it.” You challenge.

Jungkook’s jaw ticks and you note that he doesn’t relax the hand clasping your jaw. You teasingly rub your cheek against his thumb, hips slightly inching forward. And as observant as ever, Jungkook’s other arm that was wrapped around your waist stops you as his fingers drop down to your hips—squeezing in another warning that has you anticipating for more.

“I don’t think so,” he shakes his head as you frown. The expression he gives you isn’t one that’s saying no. Instead, he still smiles. “You deserve a tender kind of love.”

When he whispers those words to you, you literally melt into his hold. Your mind and heart can’t take it anymore. They make the decision for you to lean forward, crushing your lips against his as you chase for that euphoric feeling that only Jungkook can evoke in you.

Jungkook grunts at your force and uncoordinated movements. You don’t think too much about how there are more teeth than mouth, but what you do focus on is how Jungkook taste. He tastes like the strawberry chiffon cake from earlier mixed with cherry whine. It’s addictive—and you wonder if this is what love tastes like.

“Calm down, angel,” he whispers onto your lips, briefly pulling away.

Your eyes are half-lidded and dazed when you watch the string of saliva that connects your lips. He sees it too. His eyes darken significantly as you tug on the collar of his shirt, a whimper stuck in your throat as you peer up at him with your best version of a bedroom gaze.

“Kiss me,” you all but demand, “Kiss me stupid.”

Jungkook looks at you filled with lust before he’s recapturing your lips with his own. This time around, he leads. He’s by far more experienced in dragging out the experience and heightening all of your senses when he plays with the pout of your lips, purposefully dragging his teeth over the creases and nudging your lips open with his tongue.

He’s especially good when he groans into your mouth, low and husky as it pulls out a whimper from you. His hands explore your body, running up the curves of your waist, over your hips, and unconsciously pushing you forward on his lap.

“So pretty,” he murmurs, kissing down your jaw as you tilt your head up to give him more space to work with. When he looks up for a brief second, your breath hitches at the way his lips are swollen at red. His gaze is dark, and you suppose it’s because your lips are likely the same. “So fucking pretty.”

You whine in embarrassment, approaching to cover your face with your hand but Jungkook stops you with a firm grab to lock your wrists together. His look is enough of a warning, and your lower body clenches in response.

“Don’t,” he warns, “Wanna see your face.”

What else could you do but comply?

You nod silently, and all your senses are in overload when he returns to laving at your neck, tongue darting out to soothe any bites that he’s left. All you can do is helplessly gasp as he sends goosebumps all across your body, growling into your skin with a purpose to drive your mind wild.

You never imagined making out to be this pleasurable. But you suppose it’s both because of Jungkook’s skill and your ardent feelings for him that makes you crazy. It’s the same feeling that makes you want more, that makes you grind your hips in a slow circle, right on his crotch.

Jungkook’s hand stutters as well as his mouth, probably not expecting the sudden onslaught of pressure on his lower half. He groans, tucking his face into your neck as you continue your ministrations, your own bundle of nerves stimulated with each grind forward.

“What are you doing?” He hisses.

He looks up and his eyes are completely blown up. You swallow, the fire in your chest already slowly starting to erupt into flames. His palms are unconsciously splayed across your ass, and you just know he’s tempted to push you forward.

“Wanna—” you croak, emphasising your point with another grind that has him hissing in pleasure. “Wanna feel you.”

“Don’t start a game you can’t finish, baby,” he grits, eyes fluttering shut as you continue rutting against him; your own breathless whines escaping your lips.

You shake your head frantically, “N-No!” You deny, and suddenly you’re darting forward as your foreheads clash. You wince in pain, and so does he—but the clumsiness of it all only makes Jungkook smile fondly at you, briefly dropping the persona he’s admonished. “I really—I really want you. All of you.”

Your desperate pleas don’t go unheard by jungkook. In fact, his arms completely still, as if he took a whole out of body experience to process your words.

“Really?” He smiles playfully, a look that has you softening into his hold. “You want me?”

You nod your head, “Y-Yes.”

Jungkook nudges your nose with his before he’s kissing you again. You whine, frustrated at how he still insists on kissing you. Sure, you loved his lips on yours—but you were undoubtedly wet right now, and you felt the telltale signs of his cock pressing against your inner thigh.

“Jungkook,” you whine, pushing him away as you scowl at him, “I want you.”

You’re aware of how petulant you sound, and it’s almost embarrassing when you shamelessly rut your hips forward. Jungkook laughs with a small smirk, and you’re about to chew him out for laughing at you when he was clearly hard! There was nothing amusing about the fact that you were so wet that you could die and he was doing absolutely nothing about it.

“My pretty girl wants me?” He croons, pulling you flush into his chest until he’s plopping back to the bed. You shriek, falling forward as you all but gracefully crash into his chest. “You want me?” He teases.

You scowl, suddenly more irritated than horny.

“Oh my God, do you have comprehension issues?” You snap, glaring at him when he grins cheekily at you from where you tilt your head up. “I said I want you!”

He hums noncommittally, “You gotta be more specific than that baby. Use your words.”

The way he shifted from such an alluring and … dark tone to such a light-hearted jibe that still makes your stomach clench is stupefying and impressive. But this Jungkook seemed more collateral with an easy smile marring his face, arms wrapped around you in a relaxed way as if he had all the time in the world.

“I-I—” you stammer, cheeks flushing embarrassingly red, “What part of I want you do you not get?” You opt to scowl at him further, glaring at him with your red cheeks.

“Let me help you then,” he murmurs, shifting backwards ever so slightly until his head was perched upon a pillow, right against his headboard. He looks at you with lazy eyes that has your core clenching unconsciously. You blush, unsure if he felt. If he did, he doesn’t say anything but smile. “Tell me how you want me.”

You blink.

“H-How?”

He nods, hands resting around your hips as he nudges your body upwards until you’re the one fully straddling him while he lays down, comfortable and casual as he rests his arms behind his head.

You gape at him, especially at the relaxed state he was in. As if he hadn’t riled you up in a way that has you wanting more while he awaits your answer as if you were just having an ordinary conversation.

“Yeah,” he nods, “You’re always complaining, right? Use your mouth and tell me then, and maybe if I’m feeling nice I’ll give you what you want.”

You still completely above him, legs resting at the sides of his hips while you stare at him like a deer caught in headlights. You were unsure where he was going with this, but you liked it. Despite the sheer mortification you felt at the insinuation of the fact that you had to verbalise what you wanted, the wetness pooling in your panties definitely told you that you were enjoying whatever Jungkook was playing at.

Especially when he sighs as if you were taking too long. The inherent need in you wanting to please him was overpowering your senses, even the one where you feel embarrassed.

“I,” you clear your throat, eyes looking away with red cheeks. “I want you to … I want you—to—t-touch me.”

“It’s rude not to look at people when you’re asking for something,” he snaps.

His voice suddenly startles you into looking back at him. He’s frowning at you, and your heart suddenly drops.

As if he senses your hesitation, the gentle look replaces the bored one almost immediately, hands darting out to grab your hands.

“Are you okay? We can stop—”

You shake your head immediately. You were way too worked up to stop right now and Jungkook looked too appetising with his cold expression. You knew that you’ve come to a point where your feelings for each other are known and that you are his as much as he is yours. It was nice, to have the coldness—it’s almost shameful to admit. But you thought it was hot. And the fact that you knew it would go away right after this was done made the situation even more arousing.

“N-No!” You deny, “I-I’ll be good. I promise.” His eyes widen at the sudden breathlessness of your voice. “Sorry.”

You duck your head down, and Jungkook gauges your expression for any hint of discomfort or uncertainty but doesn’t find any. He almost chuckles at how eager you seem, all innocent and doe-eyed when you struggle to find the right words.

“I forgive you, baby,” Jungkook husks, thumb rubbing a circle against your hip before his arms return to the back of his head. “You remember, right? Use your words and focus on me.”

You nod your head obediently, swallowing the saliva in your mouth as you shift around on his lap, unconsciously trying to relieve the pressure in your lower region. Jungkook’s lip twitches in a smirk at your semi-frustrated expression but doesn’t comment on it. He’s enjoying this way too much, and it was taking him more self-restraint than ever to not give in.

He knew what you wanted. But he wanted to be sure. He could wait for years if that meant having you fully be ready. This playfulness that he adopted was a first too since he was usually a one-and-done kind of guy. It wasn’t something he was proud of but it worked. It worked with women he didn’t care about. But you weren’t just a woman he cared about. You were the person he’s in love with. The woman he’s been in love with for the last decade of his life and the only other woman that wasn’t his mother or grandmother that he loved.

And you seem to be enjoying it, even if you’re a little unsure. It only adds to the sexiness of the entire situation. Even with your flushed cheeks and wide eyes, he thinks you’re stunning.

When you decide you’re ready, you clear your throat and establish unwavering eye contact with Jungkook, even if you felt like your face was the surface of the sun with how hot it was.

“I want you,” you say softly, yet your voice is firmer than before. “I want you to—touch me. To t-touch my body.” You say breathlessly, leaning forward ever so slightly as your hair dangles in front of your face. Jungkook clenches his jaw at how you’re progressively getting breathier, almost desperate as the manic look in your eyes surface.

“Where, baby?” He prompts.

You flush harder but swallow.

“My b-breasts,” you whimper, embarrassment painting your face, but Jungkook nods in contentment, cocking his head for you to continue. “M-My … my …?”

You didn’t even know what to call it. You knew it was your vagina—you weren’t stupid. But the lewdness of all other alternatives made you want to quiver into a hole and never return. It sounded good when Jungkook said it but what if you sounded awkward? What if he thought the way you pronounced its synonyms was unsexy—?

“You want me to touch your pussy?” He finishes for you, voice low in a whisper as your eyes widen.

You nod shamefully, still maintaining eye contact as you unconsciously find yourself nibbling on your bottom lip while you gauge his expression. Jungkook’s eyes immediately dart down, as he licks his own lips in response.

Jungkook smirks at you, suggestive and devious while he rakes his eyes all over your body. Your outfit is different from usual, but still nothing to rave about. Yet, with the way he ogles you, you feel almost naked. And, an even more absurd realisation comes across you when you note that you don’t mind.

“You gotta say it, baby,” he sighs as if he were disappointed in you.

Your confusion only spurs him further, cock straining against his pants when your mouth moves to get the words out, the lewd term still feeling foreign on your tongue.

“I—I want you t-to touch my—” the breath you take is shaky, but as always, you were always a determined person by nature, especially when something you wanted was on the line. “—want you to t-touch my p-pussy.”

When the words leave your lips, you hear Jungkook groan under his breath, eyes fluttering shut as his hands twitch behind his head. His obvious satisfaction causes a deep sense of pride to swell in your chest, the humiliation being overpowered by the innate desire to have Jungkook make that sound again.

“Please touch my pussy,” you beg, almost whiney when you look down at him.

Jungkook’s using all the restraint in him to keep himself level-headed. Where in actuality, he’s both baffled and thanking the Gods above for having you in front of him like this. He’s never allowed himself to delve much into his fantasies, even if he’d shamelessly admit that he had one too many of these same scenarios play out in his mind. It sounds sweeter on your tongue, almost verboten when you whimper those words out.

The usually kept together version of you is slowly unravelling, and Jungkook never thought he had a corruption kink—but he definitely did. Or, maybe it was just you. He wasn’t going anywhere else to find out.

“What a good girl,” Jungkook murmurs, hands teasingly drafting across your thighs as the lower half of your body twitches ever so slightly at the touch.

He smirks at your eagerness, but there was a devious part of him that wanted to drag this further. To see you completely be his, even if he knew where your heart laid.

“Take off your clothes, then.”

You were just about to rut against his crotch desperately, the heat in your body almost searing uncomfortably as you feel the fabric of your panties sticks against your folds.

“M-Myself?”

Jungkook tongues the inside of his cheek, “Do you see me helping?” He asks with a raised brow.

You don’t, in fact. Jungkook’s completely still, perched snugly under you as he continues to draw lazy glances over your body, awaiting your next move. Your cheeks are still on fire, and every inch of your skin is begging to be touched. It’s almost hysterical at how Jungkook’s managed to reduce you into an absolute desperate mess without even needing to touch you—directly, that is.

He’s fully clothed, cock hard—and he commands you to his will. And you obey.

You’re about to push yourself off his lap, but he stops you before you can get any further.

“On my lap.”

His authoritative tone makes you whimper, almost frustratedly begging for him to do something. To touch you. To kiss you. Anything.

When people spoke of sex, you always thought that they just got to it. Sure, there was foreplay that was enjoyable, but sex has never been something that you found inherently desirable. That’s one of the reasons why you still hadn’t had sex yet. It’s because you never saw the appeal.

But you suppose you’ve never had a reason to. Not until now, at least. Because Jungkook makes you want him. Makes you want to feel his cock in you while you moan and cry. It’s a part of you that you’ve never seen, but you imagine has always been there. You wanted him—and that was still as scary as it was the first time you realised it.

You hesitantly start at the hem of your tank-top, fingers stuttering when you realise that Jungkook’s just staring. It’s different this time. His eyes are dark and purposeful, trained sternly on your upper body that still remains covered.

“L-Like this?” You ask hesitantly, lifting the fabric ever so slightly.

You realise that you’ve never been fully naked in front of Jungkook before, despite him being somewhat familiar with your intimates. The thought makes you nervous, but the way he’s looking at you makes you feel sexy. Like you were capable of making him push himself over the edge.

“Touch your body, baby,” he directs.

You follow his instructions obediently, albeit a little stiffly. You try to channel your inner seductress out when you graze your fingertips across the panel of your stomach, the sides of your body and up your breast. It’s so intimate, especially when Jungkook’s looking at you so intently while you attempt to map out your body. It’s funny how it’s been twenty-five years, yet this is the first time you’ve properly felt your body. That it’s the first time it’s felt like a home.

“You’re doing so good,” he encourages you softly, eyes raking over your breast when you give them an experimental squeeze. Your hands are small, but they do the job of alleviating some form of pressure. You gasp, eyes fluttering shut when it starts to feel more natural.

Jungkook’s praises spur you on, as you finally decide to tug at your tank-top, slowly and steadily as you attempt to teasingly lift it up.

“You’re a quick learner, aren’t you?” He murmurs, smiles apparent in his voice as you slowly peel your tank-top off, your heart beating with the adrenaline pumping through your system at the prospect of Jungkook seeing your body for the first time.

It’s both terrifying and arousing. You wonder if he notices the flaws you see when you undress at the end of every day. You wonder if he likes your body—more than you—or less than you. Though, it’s even exponentially more terrifying to think if he liked it less than you did. You’re nervous, especially when he hasn’t said anything and you’re fully topless, with the exception of your bra that covers the last bit of modesty across your chest.

What if he didn’t like your boobs? Did they look awkward in the bra? It wasn’t … sexy. You weren’t trying to get laid tonight. But you don’t know if Jungkook preferred the extra get-ups, or not. You didn’t know at all. And you definitely didn’t know what he was thinking when he continues to stare at you, face surprisingly blank.

“J-Jungkook?” You whisper, voice nervous.

Then, his eyes flutter shut, as if he was defeated before you hear him mumble a low fuck under his breath.

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, and before you can do anything else—he stares up at the ceiling as if there was something he needed to contemplate before you proceeded.

“You’re gorgeous.”

You don’t know how to react, especially because his works sound almost pained when he chokes it out. He wasn’t even looking at you—so you were rightfully confused.

“I—thank you?” You say slowly.

“I love your tits.” He blurts, eyes suddenly returning to zero onto your chest.

You blush at his vulgar words, hands immediately rushing around to hide your chest despite the fact that he continues to ogle.

“Don’t,” he whines, suddenly turning into the regular Jungkook that you know and love. Your eyes almost widen comically at the duality of the man in front of you, especially when he petulantly tugs at your hand to reveal your cups back to him.

“Did my tits really break you out of your persona?” You snort, finding the situation both funny and stimulating.

There was something about breaking a joke with someone during foreplay that made the build-up to sex much more enjoyable, and your heart nearly flies out of your chest when you realise that you’re experiencing this with Jungkook.

“I’m sorry but if you’re finally seeing the main character of all your teenaged wet dreams in person then I think you’d react the same way,” he snaps back.

You gawk, “Y-Your teenage what?”

He scoffs as if he can’t understand your disbelief.

“Don’t act so surprised,” he sneers accusingly at you while you continue to gape at his sudden confession, shirtless and all. “The number of things that I did on your tits—” And what makes it worse, wasn’t that you were turned on, but was when Jungkook’s eyes fluttered shut as he groans—as if he was picturing it all over again. “—fuuuck.”

“Jungkook!” You shriek, slapping his chest as he sighs, a dopey smile on his face.

“Promise me you’ll let me.” He begs.

You look at him dubiously.

“Let you what?” You ask carefully.

“Cum on them. Fuck them. Suck on them.” He shrugs. Your jaw is slackened when he says them so casually. You also note the jump in his pants, his cock twitching against your core as you gasp.

“J-Jungkook!” You say, scandalised.

(Though your panties are definitely drenched.)

“Please take your bra off.” He croaks, hands finally reaching out to grab at your hips.

You roll your eyes at the desperation in his tone. Even if Jungkook had done some growing up, he was still such a boy. You find his fascination with your tits almost amusing, especially when his eyes darken even further when you reach out to unclasp your bra.

You feel empowered on top, even if you know that ultimately, Jungkook calls the shots. It’s the way that he groans beneath you when your tits finally fall free, cups thrown carelessly aside as you smile bashfully at him.

“I’m going to die,” he groans.

“Just because you saw a pair of tits?” You snort, “Hm, maybe you really aren’t as impressive as I thought you were, Jeon.”

Jungkook immediately snaps up to look at you, eyes narrowed at your amused grin painting your phase. You’re about to continue jibing at him, but you realise that his eyes are hooded and menacing when they stare straight into your soul. Your face slowly drops when you realise he doesn’t respond with an equally light tone.

“I-I was just—”

You can’t even get another word out before he’s interrupting you.

“Pants off, baby.”

He doesn’t ask this time. He’s demanding.

You don’t argue this time. Even if you’re excited at the way he so effortlessly switches back into his first persona—you didn’t want to piss him off. Yet.

Fed with more confidence than earlier, you trail your hands up your thighs until they reach the button of your jeans. Jungkook’s still watching you intently, face void of any emotion that you can read as you begin to undo each button until your panties are peaking through the slit.

You slip your jeans off, a little unseemly, but it gets the job done. You aren’t sure if you can keep up being patient this way, especially when you return to settle down onto Jungkook’s lap, you feel the roughness of his jeans press against your clit as you gasp.

“So fucking wet, baby,” he smirks, “I didn’t even do anything.”

“Jungkook please,” you beg, hips jutting forward to chase anything. This time, without the barrier of your jeans, it feels so much better. So much more raw as the bump of his zipper nudges against your clit, your wetness lubricating the movement. “Do something.”

He stops you from moving before peering up at you with dark eyes and a warning expression. You immediately halt, the same fear returning as you whimper in a desperate tone.

“On my face.”

You blink owlishly at him as you attempt to process his demand.

He quirks an eyebrow up at you, impatient when he clicks his tongue.

“Did I stutter?”

“I’m sorry but did you just say—your face?” You ask incredulously.

Jungkook sighs, annoyed.

“Yes, my face. Hurry up before I get mean.” He warns.

You almost tell him that you wouldn’t mind, but the demand finally settles in as you gape at him in horror.

“I-I can’t sit on your face!” You snap, “I’m going to crush you.”

“I’m a big boy,” he rolls his eyes, “I can take it.”

You don’t think you can.

“Jungkook, you’re literally going to suffocate and die.” You deadpan.

“I’m not,” he drawls as he shoots you an unimpressed look before he’s pulling your hips forward. You nearly stumble off if it weren’t for your palms that press against his headboard. You turn absolutely red when you realise that you’ve hovering above him, cunt in his face as your scent essentially surrounds him.

“Fuck. You smell so good.” He groans, sniffing your pussy in an obscene manner that has your cheeks burning.

“J-Jungkook—“ you say nervously, attempting to shuffle back in embarrassment.

“I’ll be fine.” He snaps.

“I really don’t—”

“Why do you have to be so bratty,” he sighs with an irritating tick to his brow when you peer down, “Even if I die—I’d be happy to go by your pussy.”

You flush even harder at his crude words.

“Jeon Jungkook!”

“What?” He says defensively, “Do you need it in black and white in case I do? I’ll write you a contract if you—”

“Oh my God,” you huff in exasperation, “You’re unbelievable!”

“Unbelievably hard and horny so if you mind I’d really like for you to sit that pussy on my face,” he retorts snappishly.

You sigh to yourself, still embarrassed. You’re still confused at how Jungkook’s able to switch from one personality to another, and you suppose it’s just the many faces of Jungkook you’ve yet to learn about.

“Jungkook, I really—Jungkook!”

Your complaints are interrupted when he quite literally rips your panties off of you, the sound of the fabric tearing filling his room as you gasp.

“Jungkook what the hell?!” You shriek.

He doesn’t placate you with a response until he’s tugging your hips down to his face, his mouth immediately latching around your clit as you fall forward at the first lick. You never stood a chance.

“F-Fuck!” You scream, loud and unabashed when your lower half seizes in pleasure.

Jungkook immediately laps you up like he’s parched for water. You don’t even know where to look, especially when your body is inevitably hunched forward due to the onslaught of pressure relieved at your lower region. Your eyes eventually wander downwards and you’re welcomed with an equally as erotic sight with Jungkook’s purple hair between your thighs, his own eyes shut in pleasure as he laps at your pussy like a madman.

You’re undeniably flushing and beyond wet. That enough is clear when the wetness of your cunt is audible enough in between your gasps of pleasure while Jungkook keeps his arms wrapped around your thighs.

“J-Jungkook—oh my G-God—“ you mewl, the heat in the lower half of your body sending you into overdrive, especially when he’s dead-set on making a home between your thighs. “Oh, oh.” You’re moaning lewdly at this point, eyes rolling to the back of your head when he pushes you further onto his face. “I-I can’t—!”

Your hands reach out to grab on his hair, startled when you realise that you’re almost fully sitting on him.

“You can and you will,” he snarls against your pussy, the sound muffled by the wetness and the way he doesn’t bother to even take a breather as he drags his tongue across your folds to gather all your wetness and centre it around your throbbing bud.

“J-Jungkook, I’m g-going to crush you!” You cry in the middle of a moan, “Jungk—fuck.”

On Jungkook’s end, he’s positive he’s already dead and in heaven. All he can smell, taste and see is you. Your face is contorted in pure pleasure when he licks across your slit, tongue fucking into you with a sense of purpose that drives you insane. You taste so heady and sweet. All for him. Especially when he gets to see your tits from below.

“Fuck,” he growls into your pussy, the vibrations making your thighs shake at the side of his face. Your hands were the only things supporting your weight right now, and even then, they were close to giving out with how good Jungkook was making you feel. “Ride my face baby.”

Your eyes widen, immediately darting down to shoot Jungkook a stupefied expression. Too bad he doesn’t catch it because he’s too busy shaking his head, tongue following his motions as he presses it firmly against your clit. You let out an embarrassingly loud cry and a moan, your hand immediately reaching to clamp over your mouth in embarrassment.

“Don’t,” he complains, “Wanna hear you cum, pretty girl.”

You all but melt into him further at his term of endearment. Your legs were shaking uncontrollably at the way he refuses to give you a break. You feel the coil tighten further and further, so close to release especially when your body gives out of you—the weight of your body resting on his face as you unconsciously grind your hips across his tongue.

And fuck. Does it feel good.

“O-Oh, oh—J-Jungkook—fuck, you’re so good to me you make me—feel so—good,” you ramble manically, heading dropping forehead to rest on his headboard as you grind further onto his tongue, uncaring if he’s crushed. Jungkook lays there at your disposal, tongue out for you to use as he continues to hum into your pussy like a personal vibrator.

“Come on baby,” he encourages with a growl, “Cum for me, yeah? Gonna prep you real good for my cock. You want it, don’t you? Deep in your pussy while I make you scream? Cream my face for me, baby.”

His dirty words make you gasp, your hands tightly pulling at his hair as you shamelessly chase your hair. Your face is completely pressed against the headboard, and Jungkook can only admire the way your face is morphed into an expression he never thought he’d be able to get out of a girl—let alone seeing the girl of his dreams all desperate and wet for him like this.

You feel so filthy like this—in more than one sense that wasn’t just your sweaty body and malleable limbs—but the way he digs his nose further, occasionally brushing against your pelvis as you grind against his tongue. Your body is moving on its own, the innate desire to chase your high is the only thing your mind can register. All sense of poise and modesty out of the window when Jungkook lets you use him.

“J-Jungkook—” you sob, “I-I’m c-cumming—!”

“Cum for me baby,” he purrs, “Cum on my tongue.”

Just as you’re about to cum, Jungkook makes a split-second decision to roll you over until your back is pressed to his bed. He loves having you on his face, but he loves this. Seeing you squeak in surprise while you continue to mewl in pleasure, your back arching off the bed as you gasp for air.

He buries his face impossibly deeper, speeding up the way his tongue rolls against your clit. You’re moaning out incoherencies, hazed to absolute pleasure as your thighs quiver by the side of his head.

“Oh—!”

You cum loudly and messily, your pussy clenching and unclenching rhythmically as Jungkook laps up all of your essences, continuously tongue-fucking you through your pleasure. You almost blackout at how intensely your body was shaking from that orgasm, your thighs clamping shut around his head in oversensitivity when he continues to slurp at your pussy in an obscene manner.

“J-Jungkook—” you whine, attempting to push him away as he finally relents, parting from your cunt with a soft kiss to your clit that has your legs jumping.

Your back is absolutely damp with sweat, and sore the sheets beneath you as you attempt to catch your breath. Your chest is tight with the lack of oxygen while the room spins. You feel more than see the sheets ruffling by your sides, and Jungkook slowly inches up your body with wet kisses against your skin.

You all but let out helpless whimpers, absolutely spent—yet frantic for more.

“You did so well,” he coos, gently kissing up to your stomach, your ribs before his hands are capturing your breasts in his large hands. He squeezes them, evoking a gasp from you, body still tingling from your orgasm. “So good for me. Don’t deserve you.”

You can barely register his words, especially when his mouth attaches itself to your right breast, immediately delivering kitten licks to your nipples that causes your back to arch into his hot mouth. You mewl in pleasure when he doesn’t keep himself soft, instead, it’s wet and loud and desperate when he looks up—eyes dark as you whimper.

“Oh,” you exhale when he plops off with a pop, sending you a smile that’s far more gentle than how you feel. For that split second, you feel your heart melt, shooting him a weak smile in return.

“Can’t believe you’re here,” he sighs dreamily into your left breast, peppering kisses around your peaked buds before squeezing it between his fingers. His eyes are honest when they maintain eye contact, the gesture too intimate for you to handle as you bashfully look away. “Can’t believe this is happening.”

“It is,” you say softly, “I’m here, Kook.”

The nickname causes him to groan, his head resting on your breast as your hand finally finds the strength to instinctively wrap your fingers between his locks, delicately scraping through his hair as he sighs.

“You know I never thought I was good enough for you,” he abruptly confesses.

Your eyes widen.

“What? Why—?”

He doesn’t respond, instead; he kisses up your chest until he’s inches away from your lips, his face carrying the weight of your words as you search for an answer.

And it’s scary that he looks so much like himself. The Jungkook you’ve known for long loved for just as much—but were only brave enough to accept recently. He’s always looked youthful, though he definitely grew out of his round edges. He’s more defined, carved by years of experiences and mistakes that made him the person he was today.

He looks hesitant for the first time this night. As if he’s mulling over the next things he’ll say.

Jungkook looks at you, eyes holding more than just your gaze but the magnitude of his heart. You wonder how long he’s looked at you like that for.

“You’re amazing,” he finally says, and it’s against your lips.

“You are too,” you say with a soft gaze.

He shakes his head, and it’s probably an odd conversation to have while you’re fully naked and Jungkook’s yet to shed off a single piece of his clothing.

“I’m good at things, there’s a difference,” he sighs, “You’re … you’re it, you know? I don’t think you know how great you really are.”

“Jungkook …”

“No, really.” His eyes are suddenly wide as if he was afraid you wouldn’t believe him. Yet, you found it hard to truly trust his words, the part of you that feels lacking refuses to. “You’re driven and you’re passionate. You care so deeply and profoundly that it’s impossible not to love you. You just—how could I ever deserve someone like you?”

Your eyes soften as his eyes dart away from yours, his eyebrows furrowed in displeasure. You know he’s caught up in his own thoughts. The expression is too familiar to you because you’ve been there. You were just there, and it took a long time for you to recognise that sometimes—we won’t ever know what we deserve or do.

“Jungkook,” you whisper, hands reaching out to hold his cheeks and guide his gaze back to you. His eyes are unsure, and all you want to do is reassure him. So, you do. “Look at me. Please?”

He does, albeit hesitantly as you offer him the gentlest of smiles.

“It’s insane that you think that because I wonder how I could ever deserve you,” you throw his words back to him with a small smile.

His jaw drops, “No way—!”

You giggle, shushing him with a gentle peck to his lips that has him melting into your touch.

“My point is,” you continue, never breaking eye contact with him. “We’ll always feel lacking in some way because we always will be. We’re human. We’re bound to make mistakes and we’ll never be perfect. But I wouldn’t have you any other way. I fell in love with this version of you, and I’ll love every version of you that I’ll be blessed to learn about.”

Jungkook stares at you, awestruck as you continue smiling lovingly at him. Whatever you had just said was the truth and you’d tell him that over and over again if it meant he’d trust your words just a little more.

“Do you understand?” You ask softly, “I love—”

He shuts you up by smashing his lips to yours, causing you to gasp in surprise at the ferocity of the force. He’s pushing you into the sheets, not enough for it to hurt but enough to show you his intuitive want for you at that very moment.

His hand reach up to cup your cheeks, the other one already making its way down your body until it's cupping your mound.

“J-Jungkook,” you whimper, eyes dazed as you tilt your head to the side, “Take off your clothes.”

You emphasise your point with a tug to the hem of his shirt and the waistband of his jeans.

He doesn’t argue with you, quickly pulling his shirt over his head from the back, exposing the firm expanse of his chest. The intricate design of tattoos trail up his arm and onto his shoulder, emphasising each slope of his muscles.

You really can’t close your mouth as you’re blatantly ogling him. You’ve seen Jungkook shirtless many times, it’s a given since he basically lived at the gym and was comfortable enough around you and in his own body when he lazily throws off his shirt when it got too hot. But you’ve never seen him like this. So close to you, panting in desire while his carnal eyes rake over your completely bare body while he’s in the midst of undressing.

“You’re staring,” he smirks.

You scoff, cheeks flushing even if you know it’s nothing but the truth.

“Pants. Off.” You demand, lips in a pout as he laughs, bending down to give you a quick smack before he shoots you that charming grin of him.

“Want to help?” He cocks an eyebrow up, licking his lips as you feel your pussy flutter at his tone.

Really, Jeon Jungkook was too hot for his own good.

You roll your eyes, yet you find yourself already shifting forward, despite the shake in your legs from your previous orgasm as you make your way towards the button of his jeans, fingers already working their way to undo it.

Jungkook observes your eagerness, especially when your eyes occasionally drift upwards as you search for his approval. All Jungkook does is rub a soothing hand over your head as you continue your ministrations. You help him tug his pants down, his briefs not doing much in covering his bulge that practically stares you straight in the eye as you swallow.

You’ve seen it once, had it in your mouth—yet, the thought becomes more appealing the longer you ogle.

Your hands are already reaching out to cup him through his briefs, your state of horniness throwing all hesitancy out of the window as you hear Jungkook suck in a deep breath before his large hand closes on top of your own.

“Next time, baby,” he murmurs, “This is about you.”

You roll your eyes at the cliche phrase, and you can’t help the indignant tone that travels through your chest and out of your mouth.

“And what if I want to suck your dick?”

Jungkook shoots you a pointed stare before pushing you down back onto your back as you squeak in surprise.

“Don’t be a smartass,” he sighs, “Besides, I’m the hardest I’ve ever been in my entire life and there’s no way I’m going to last if I have your mouth on me. The only place I wanna feel is your pussy, got it?”

Your eyes widen at his blatant words, and your gaping face may have thrown Jungkook off as his expression suddenly mimics yours.

“I-I mean—that’s if you’re still—we don’t have to have sex—”

You interrupt him by wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a kiss.

“Jungkook,” you mumble against his lips, pulling ever so slightly to shoot him a serious look, “If you’re not going to fuck me then I’m going to be really disappointed. Or—maybe I’ll just go find someone who is going to fuck me—”

Jungkook growls, hands delivering a pert smack to your right asscheek as you gasp at his actions, his gaze dropping to yours in a hooded gaze.

“I’m not going to fuck you,” he snarls threateningly as your face drops, “I’m going to love you so good—you got that?”

Somehow, his rough tone is contrasted against his gentle words, especially when his eyes soften on your face.

“I’d really like that,” you smile.

Before you can say anything else, Jungkook already has his hands trailing down your abdomen once again to cup your mound. You gasp, squirming under his touch as you whine.

“Jungkook,” you whine, “Just—please just stick it in already.”

You realise how whiney you sound, but you were still really worked up and your previous orgasm along with Jungkook’s spit has provided enough lubricant for you to take him. At least that’s what you think.

“There’s no way my cock’s going to fit if I don’t stretch you out,” he says pointedly, “Even if your pussy’s all sloppy.”

His words make you whimper, thighs clenching in reprieve to relieve the pulsations in your lower abdomen. You can’t even imagine how it’s going to feel like—and you know that Jungkook isn’t average-sized by any means. It was already a struggle to have him in your mouth and you could somewhat contract and relax it voluntarily. Your pussy on the other hand? Not quite.

“P-Please hurry,” you beg, eyes peering up desperately.

Jungkook opens his mouth to say something but decides against it at the last minute, likely too worked up to do so. Rather, his fingers immediately gather the wetness from your pussy to your whole, causing you to mewl in expectation.

His index finger prods your hole before it slips in, as he peers up to gauge your expression. At this point, anything that Jungkook did would evoke a whine from you because you’ve already been riled up enough. He curls his digit, the pad of his finger immediately reaching deep in your wet cunt.

You gasp, head falling back onto the pillow as Jungkook smirks at you.

“Already?” He teases, “How are you going to take my cock if one finger gets you like this?”

You glare at him through lidded eyes.

“Would you prefer me to shut up and take it like a starfish?” You can’t help the spite that escapes your mouth, throwing back the familiar yet painful words back to him.

Jungkook’s eyes widen, mouth falling agape. You weren’t trying to be mean, in fact, it was more so that you were frustrated than anything else. Your heart has healed, but there was no harm in teasing—right?

“I—well”—he gulps, eyes comically apologetic as his face crumbles while his finger twitches in your cunt—“Baby you can’t do this to me.” He whines.

You roll your eyes.

“Then how about you get to it,” you smile sweetly at him, patting his cheek as he pouts, “Stretch me out so I can take you good.” You purr.

Jungkook nods his head obediently as if caught in a trance and you almost want to laugh. You quite liked the hold you had over him, even if it was just momentarily. You don’t dwell on your thoughts for too long because Jungkook’s slipping another digit in, your pussy acclimating to the stretch.

He thrusts his fingers into your pussy, digging deeper each time as you feel the tell-tale signs of your stomach clenching in desire as you moan softly.

“Does it feel good?” He asks.

You nod your head, eyes fluttering shut as he speeds up his fingers, your pussy throbbing around the digits. You were still wet from your previous orgasm, and still as sensitive—so you felt every inch of his fingers reach your walls and it felt heavenly, especially when Jungkook was pressed so close to you that his body warmed you up.

“So good,” you whimper.

“Can you take another?” He murmurs, the third digit already testing the waters.

You nod your head.

Once he gets your consent, he inserts his last finger as you wince at the burn. His fingers were long and girth enough to make you feel the stretch. He stills ever so slightly to catch your expression as he shoots you a concerned gaze.

“You okay?”

You nod your head, whimpering ever so slightly when he shallowly thrusts his fingers. Your pussy stretches to accommodate the new girth, and it’s both pleasurable and uncomfortable—but the way that Jungkook begins to press his lips to yours distracts you from the burn.

You feel his palm bump into your clit every time he thrusts harder, fingers curling expertly into the spot that has you moaning into his mouth, fingers clutching his hair in desperation to ground yourself. You think he’s just here to stretch you out, so you don’t expect much—but suddenly, he’s snapping his fingers into your pussy so rapidly that you catch yourself in a cry of pleasure.

“J-Jungkook—I—w-what—?” You ask manically, your voice high pitched as you clutch his arms while you feel your pussy clench uncontrollably around his digits.

“Cum for me again,” he grits, eyes narrowed in focus while he watches the way your wetness coats his fingers.

He scissors your pussy and you barely feel it, purely because your wetness makes it so much easier for him to thrust his fingers in and out without any barrier. It’s loud and wet, the way that your pussy squelches each time the heel of his palm purposefully drags itself across your clit.

“I-I’m going—ohohoh—please don’t stop please don’t stop,” you sob, head thrown back.

“So wet,” he growls, “Wanna see you cum again. Will you do that for me?” He whispers into your cheek, your whines caught against his mouth as you feel yourself reach the very edge. “Come on, you’re doing so good for me. Aren’t you? The prettiest and best girl.”

His praise makes you clutch onto him harder while he doesn’t stop the brutal thrusts into your cunt. And with one particularly good drag of his fingers on your g-spot, you cum—and it’s a silent cry that you let out while your lower half shakes.

Jungkook continues finger-fucking you through your orgasm, even when it begins to burn in oversensitivity as you whimper, body spent for the second time that night.

“That’s right,” he coos, “Always so beautiful for me.”

When you come down from your high, you slowly blink at him while you catch your breath. Jungkook’s already staring at you, and even if he’s yet to receive any direct stimulation, he looks equally as fucked out as he breathes, chest rising up and down while his eyes remain trained on your body.

“Jungkook,” you croak, throat raw from your moans. Your hands trail to his briefs as you tug on them, still desperate for more if it was from him. “Please fuck me.”

You don’t recognise your voice or your tone. You don’t think you’ve sounded this desperate in your life, but yet—you don’t feel ashamed. You don’t feel as embarrassed as you thought you would be. Instead, you feel even more desirable because of the man in front of you that gave you two mind-blowing orgasms while his cock strains against his briefs.

“You sure—?” He raises a brow at you as you whine.

“Jungkook please,” you plead, “I want you. All of you. In every way possible.”

The words are so similar, and Jungkook can’t stop the smile that threatens to appear on his face when he recognises it immediately. It’s the same words he’s reassured you with, and here you are throwing it back at him. You don’t realise the honest intention, but Jungkook does.

And he has to press another soft kiss to your lips before he’s quickly shrugging his briefs off, his cock springing free. It stands long and hard against his abdomen, the pre-cum undoubtedly leaking from his tip as you feel your mouth turn dry at the sight.

Jungkook was an attractive person but he was absolutely ethereal bare. His natural state, sweaty and flushed—only makes your pussy clench in expectation as you let out a tight groan of your own.

“You’re so hot,” you complain, “How are you so hot?”

Jungkook snickers leaning across your body as he reaches towards his bedside table. You briefly snap out of your horny daze as you furrow your brows at his gesture.

“What are you doing?”

Jungkook hums noncommittally before expertly dragging his drawer open to draw out a—

“Condom.”

You blink at him.

“You don’t need it.”

Jungkook freezes, hand still gripping the foil as he peers down at you with wide eyes.

“I don’t—?”

“You know I’ve been on birth control since high school. Acne and stuff.” you say pointedly, “Unless you’re not clean?”

Jungkook tosses the packet aside immediately before he’s hovering above you like a sweaty God.

“No,” he blurts, “I mean yes. I mean no, I’m not—I don’t have anything. Yes. I’m clean.”

You giggle, before wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him close, just enough so that his lips are fanning across your own.

“Then,” you lower your voice seductively, “Make love to me, Jungkook.”

Jungkook blinks at you before he’s letting out a groan of himself, looking to the ceiling for one second before his gaze returns to your own.

And the events of the entire night have been leading up to this moment, the way even Jungkook trembles when he lines up the tip of his cockhead to your hole as your heart beats vigorously against your rib cage.

It’s this. The way that Jungkook looks at you so softly while you bite your lip in anticipation. It’s this. When he finally breaks through the first barrier of your pussy as you feel the tip enter. You gasp, and he grunts, your fingers tighten against the sheets as you shut your eyes.

The burn is unpleasant. It’s expected. But Jungkook’s keeping a thumb on your clit the entire time to soothe any displeasure.

“Are you okay?” He whispers.

You nod, afraid if your voice would fail you.

Jungkook searches for any hesitancy before he continues slipping each inch in. It’s intimate this way when you see him clearly and he sees you. He watches your expression closely, even kisses away the frown lines on your forehead when you’re grimacing at the way your walls attempt to take him.

It’s when he licks his tongue into your mouth that he bottoms out completely. You gasp, feeling so wholly full and filled, even if the burn becomes more intense. It’s not painful, just … uncomfortable. But it’s almost mixed with the fact that he presses against your walls so well that there’s a fuzzy sense of pleasure that erupts in your lower abdomen.

“F-Fuck,” Jungkook chokes, his head dropping to the crook of your neck, “You feel so good.”

It strokes your ego that Jungkook looks absolutely destroyed right now. His face tight and eyes shut while he breathes heavily into your neck. You can tell he’s holding himself back because he’s scrunching the fabric of his sheets so tightly next to your hips, cock throbbing between your hot walls.

You can feel every inch of him like this, and you’re sure he does too. It’s because you get wetter just thinking about him fucking you, finally making you his while he becomes yours. The intimacy, the love, the years of pining finally bottoming out.

“You can move,” you whisper, running your hand through his hair.

“Are you sure?” He asks sceptically.

“Please, Jungkook,” you reply softly, “I’m okay.”

Jungkook lets out a sigh of relief before he tests the waters, pulling out completely before he thrusts back into you. At the impact, your body hikes up as you gasp, the pleasure tripling due to your sensitivity and the preciseness of his cockhead brushing against your sensitive spot.

“O-Oh,” you gasp.

“Baby, I need to warn you,” he says through a hitched breath, “I don’t think I’ll last long.”

You shake your head with a small laugh, your voice interrupted by your mewls when he starts to build up a rhythm of his own, thrusting into your pussy. You don’t care about anything else, except for the fact that you feel all of Jungkook. The heat and the desperation, all while he looks at you like you’ve hung the stars in the sky.

Jungkook grunts and groans above you, hips slapping against your own when he grinds his cock deeper into your cunt. He’s not rushing, and you suppose that the pace doesn’t need to be hard or at super-speed when you know what you’re doing. And in this case, Jungkook’s managed to master the art of your body and what you liked by just gauging your expressions.

His hand reaches out to intertwine his fingers with your own before bringing them to the side of your head. The gesture is so intuitively intimate and romantic that you unconsciously clench your walls around his cock, causing Jungkook’s hips to falter ever so slightly before he shoots you a playful glare.

“Don’t try and kill me now,” he warns teasingly, face leaning closer to yours as you smile brightly at him.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you reply.

He catches himself and begins snapping his hips harder against your own, his cock brushing against your g-spot with every thrust as you moan in pleasure. The sounds of skin slapping on skin reverberate against the walls of his room and you feel yourself burn from the lewdness of it all.

But it’s worth it when Jungkook groans against your lips while you feel his sticky chest pressed against yours when he hikes up your legs with his free hand, the other still dead-set on holding your hand.

“I’m going to cum,” he warns in a breathless tone, “I’ll get you off later—”

You don’t allow him to continue until your hips are moving at their own accord, chasing his thrusts as he chokes at your sudden proactiveness.

You don’t care if he gets you off later or not, not when he looks like this above you, feral and desperate as he chases his high. His thrusts get more intense and desperate, and especially deeper when you feel his cock throb inside of you.

“Cum in me,” you murmur against his lips.

You hear Jungkook mutter a string of curses under his breath before he shoves his cock impossibly deeper into you and stays in place, all while you feel his hot seed pour into your cunt as you gasp.

Jungkook cums like he’s on a mission to milk himself dry. He doesn’t leave your lips either, mouth continuing to receive open-mouthed kisses from you while you hold him close. He shallowly thrusts into your pussy, his cum pooling at the entrance of your cunt as you whimper at how erotic it feels.

When Jungkook finally comes down from his high, chest heaving, he does so by pressing a kiss so passionate that it makes your head spin and your heart grow ten times larger. He keeps himself in you, despite the way he’s softening.

“Fuck,” he laughs, eyes crinkling, “You’re really going to be the death of me.”

You smile cheekily at him, even though you feel the exhaustion suddenly hitting you like a wave.

“Nice doing business with you, Jeon,” you giggle.

He rolls his eyes and finally slips out of you with a wince, while you immediately snap your legs shut—not wanting to stain his sheets.

He raises an eyebrow at your gesture before you’re blushing.

“So this is what this was?” He pouts, “A business transaction?”

Now, it was your turn before you’re rolling your eyes.

“Don’t be dumb,” you scold, but it’s light.

He sighs contentedly and brings you close by wrapping his arms around your sweaty body. He rests your head against his chest while you listen to your heartbeat.

You’ve always imagined having sex for the first time to feel a lot more … desolating than this. Perhaps it was the unhealthy mindset that you associated having sex for the first time with losing a part of you. A part of you that somehow was someone else’s to claim. But with Jungkook’s breathing and your own intermingled together, it doesn’t feel like you’ve lost.

“Hey,” he whispers, catching your attention as you look up at him.

“Yeah?”

“You know I love you, right?” He asks.

You grin from ear to ear before leaning up to kiss him.

“Yeah,” you nod, “And you know that I love you too, right?”

Jungkook laughs, tired as his eyes threaten to shut.

“Yeah. I do.”

When the both of you fall asleep, sticky and honestly, gross. You feel anything but discomfort. You feel content. You feel happy. And most importantly, you feel at home.

#bad boy good thing #bbgt #bts #bts fics #bts series #bts angst #bts fluff #bts drabble #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts jungkook #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook fic #jungkook angst #jungkook series #fluff #angst #smut

[ask-hunterxhunter]

Helloo royal Guards as yandere please

But without the presence of Meruem because I find it difficult for them to fall in love with Reader while serving the King.

Mmmh, Neferpitou with a Reader male because my headcanon is that she is a infertile female uhhh I dont know how to explain it but I think that in the ant castes there are infertile females that are workers

Yeah, as far as I know, that's how it is with ants... I'm not an expert, but I think the female workers are infertile and care for the queen. Their development depends on how much food they receive when they're larvae. If there is abundance, some larvae will be "princess ants" (fertile and will leave the colony to start their own once the time is right).

Hmm... The Chimera Ants, however, seem to work quite different. Besides the whole "Ant Giving Birth to an Anthro Lion" and what not, they didn't end up starving once the queen died (which I read happens because there are no more larvae and the ants need them to properly feed) and many of them left to try starting colonies of their own (even some of the males seemed to want that, not just females like Zanzan)...

Perhaps this is more like some species of wasp? I've read that the queen produces a pheromone that keeps the others infertile. Once she dies, they battle for dominance in order to become the next queen. With the Chimera, however, they left for new territories rather than stay and fight...

...

Is there an entomologist in the house?

Neferpitou

The royal guards, regardless of Meruem’s presence, are not exactly easy to deal with even in their normal state (and I don’t think this is simply because they are not humans). Take them to Yandere level and, well, let’s just say it is not a pretty picture…

Pitou is not someone whose interest is easily aroused (she is the kind that “knows several people but regards only a few of them as her actual friends”) and, in a sense, the opposite is also true: It’s not easy to lose such interest, either. With her in Yandere-mode, well, it’s basically impossible. Once you’ve realized what is going, taking the usual measures to try dealing with it (such as moving, contacting the police, so on), don’t waste any time hoping she will “move on” or “change targets” as some stalkers do. It's not in her nature (both due to her personality and instincts).

Not that you would certainly realize what is going on right away. It would depend on her mood and how she decides to deal with her feelings (and she can’t change this decision): She may just go for the straight, extreme actions or keep a convincing facade of normality for a while… Regardless of whether this “normality” is you trying to kill each other or being friends (or she at least living in peace among humans)...

In the “enemies” case, Pitou would not spend days brooding about having fallen for an enemy and trying to get rid of those feelings. She would just shrug the situation off and start to debate whether it’s best to kidnap you right away or try to court you. If she’s working with other Ants for whatever reason or they just happen to be in the area, she would make sure everyone knows you are not to be hurt (and may God have mercy on whoever doesn’t listen). Her attacks would still be convincing from your point of view while being harmless playing in Pitou’s mind. After all, she lets you escape with no injures!

The “convincing facade” is more regarding how deep (and unsettling) her feelings are. In both scenarios, she would confess soon and, being what/how she is, likely act on it. No matter how much you explain you’re not interested or what arguments you use, Pitou would just wave her tail, perhaps ask what you mean exactly in that “innocently curious” tone of hers and… Completely ignore what you just said.

Well, okay, maybe you need to remember she isn’t completely human, so you can’t demand that she behaves like one, right?

Oh, boy, are you making a mistake… Not being human doesn’t mean that Pitou doesn’t understand that there are limits.

She understands.

She just couldn’t care less.

Remember when she probed Pokkles’ brain with him still alive? When Gon and Killua saw her for the first time? This is nothing next to how she can be when she’s obsessed with you.

I mentioned she would act on her feelings, right? Here’s another thing: She is also likely to do so in the manner of an animal trying to attract a particular mate. And because we’re talking Yandere-mode, I don’t mean the “bird dancing” or “penguin offering a pebble”. Not even the “cat giving you a dead prey”…

If you’re friends/she’s living in the human society, there would be some restraint at first, to the point her insistence would seem innocent… Then she would either grow impatient and kidnap you, or things would escalate, giving you hints to the darkness of her feelings until you’re forced to accept that this friend is a threat to you. Maybe after returning home, you find a note in your bed in which Pitou wrote that she loves how soft your bed is, how your home’s security is lacking… And, by the way, that person seems to have a crush on you… Hmm… Should she break their hands or their legs? The playful tone of the note only makes it darker.

Somehow you know she is not kidding.

If you’re enemies, well, she has no reason to restrain herself from the start. Her interactions with you would become far darker even if she miiight not kidnap you right away (for whatever reason) especially since she wouldn’t waste time playing by human rules. Pitou would find a way to make a claim (pinning you down, rubbing herself against you like a cat, and even leaving a love bite/hickey on your neck are very much on the table) or say it loud and clear in battle when there are other humans around. This isn’t just for the other humans, but for you as well: You’re hers, now. There is no room for discussion.

Also, in this scenario, it’s not impossible that Pitou’s “love” started with her deciding to make you her pet. Collar and all.

It should be said that Pitou is a cat in almost every sense, so the tendency to “play with her food” is very much present... Yes, she sees you as a “mate” rather than “prey”, but your attempts to avoid/hide from her consist of an opportunity that is far too good to miss! You change address and, after a few days, start to relax… Only for her to leave a new “present” at your door! It’s both funny and cute how you thought something so simple would keep her away! Awww, you’re so adorable!

Again, it’s true that some of her actions (such as this) have no malice whatsoever behind them, but I repeat, don’t let yourself be fooled: She is very much aware that what she is doing is creepy and wrong and why. I’m repeating this because Pitou can be as charming and cute as a cat… And as devious and sadistic as any human.

While some yanderes give you time (perhaps hoping you’ll eventually come around or because chasing you is so much fun), Pitou is among those who won’t take long before deciding to “take you home”.

Pitou loves having you all to herself and will be very affectionate, especially when it’s just the two of you. Maybe this sounds a little cute on principle? Yeah, trust me, it is not. It’s terrifying! Even when you reject her and she caresses your head saying you’re cute, you can see the insanity in her eyes, mixed with a sick infatuation.

It doesn’t help that, at times, her being “affectionate” involves brushing your hair, cuddling and even bathing together. Not only this invasion of space can already be uncomfortable, something about how Pitou does it makes you feel too much like a pet, especially when she talks about how much she loves you, how lovely you are, and how she is never going to let you go. In this situation, and the way she speaks, those words make you feel cold.

You should have realized by now that there is no reasoning with her and this isn’t because she is not human. Pitou is likely to twist your arguments or make points that would frankly make you think she learned from Illumi or Hisoka (and she only does that because she thinks it’s funny, anyway).

As for Pitou, well, she can’t say she is happy that you’re uncomfortable, but she believes it’s just temporary and you’ll get used to your new life… Hey, humans capture animals all the time to put them in zoos or circus. She isn’t that bad in comparison, now, is she?

She’s easily the kind of yandere that responds to pleas for freedom by caressing your head and saying you’re cute. How could she possibly let you go? You’d run away! Besides, she can keep you well-fed and protected. You say such silly things, love!

That’s not to say Pitou doesn’t have a limit to how much rejection she can take or her patience. And this is a line you don’t want to cross. It’s hard to say if Pitou would get to the point of physical punishment, but this doesn’t mean she wouldn’t make use of other means.

Menthuthyoupi.

It’s not easy to catch the attention of any of the Royal Trio, each for their own reasons. In Youpi’s case, it’s partially because he doesn’t have any human DNA on him, so despite being able to communicate and all, he doesn’t usually pay that much attention to people. It’s almost like he’s an alien (or we are, in his view). Even in a scenario when he is living in peace with humans, he doesn’t have exactly a clear opinion about them. They just exist. Maybe a few of them are okay enough, but that’s it… And in a scenario when he is still fighting them, well, they are the enemy. It’s pretty simple.

Youpi is direct, both in personality and as a Chimera Ant (in that he follows his instincts without hesitation). As such, like Pitou, he wouldn’t avoid his feelings once he comes to understand them. It’s a little strange, yes, but he accepts the fact that he loves you and that’s it. That said, Youpi would be initially confused (especially if you’re an enemy. How on Earth did he develop this sort of feeling for someone he’s supposed to kill?), and he wouldn’t make a move until he is sure of what he is feeling and what he wants.

Sadly, because this isn’t him in a healthy state of mind, this doesn’t mean anything good for you. This isn’t a shy monster-boy finding a human he considers special. This isn’t even “enemies falling in love” or “dark romance”. This is an “already dangerous individual” developing an equally dangerous obsession.

At first, Youpi starts to stalk you (if you’re his enemy/if you’ve never spoken before) or try to find excuses to spend more time with you (if you’re on friendly terms) in this attempt to understand exactly what is going on with himself. During this time, his feelings for you become stronger along with his desire to know everything about you. He’s curious. He’s fascinated. He wants to see you more often. He wants to talk with you… He just wants to be near you…

It’s pretty disturbing because, despite his size, Youpi will find the means to stalk you without anyone realizing it, just like an animal hunting. You may notice a shadow here and now, feel a chill up your spine, but it won’t be enough to make the danger clear enough. If you two are enemies, there are chances you’ll realize that there is something is wrong, as he either avoids fighting you (no issues with anyone else, though) or that he doesn’t seem to be actively trying to hurt you as much as before… Despite this, you’ll never, ever imagine he is in love with you.

Well, disturbing as it may be, it sounds almost as harmless as he can be in this scenario, right?

Not the case. You can’t forget how obsession grows, how it affects a person, and that it gets to the point when merely stalking isn’t enough. There is no such thing as a harmless yandere/stalker. So even if Youpi, at first, is satisfied with merely watching you from afar and making sure you aren’t hurt, it starts to not be enough. He sees you with your friends, smiling at them, hugging them, laughing… And he starts to imagine how it would be to have you doing these things with him, to be the one who makes you smile, to be the one holding you… And he realizes he wants it.

He loves you. He wants you.

And there is no reason to not act on those feelings.

Regardless of the circumstances between you, he seems to take the rejection well (if you manage to control the shock, act calmly and explain your reasons for it). At first, he thinks about your points and may even understand them… Only to find out that he doesn’t care. He can’t forget you. He can’t let go of you… And honestly, he doesn’t really want to. That you don’t feel the same now doesn’t matter. Don’t some couples start not feeling the same for each other, only for those feelings to change later?

In the case of “peaceful existence”, it might be easier to get a glimpse of his instability than with the Neferpitou, but it doesn’t make much of a difference. Even the precautions people normally take in those situations would only work for a certain time… The myth of the animal that “will pursue its prey to the ends of the Earth once it has its scent” is true when it comes down to Youpi (literally even).

Now, while Youpi is less likely to resort to kidnapping (at least right away), he would still find ways to inject himself into your life, so even then, you can’t say you’re free. He may not go straight to threatening your loved ones (and it’s hard to predict if he would follow with it), but there are many other tactics that he could and would use.

And being less likely to kidnap you doesn’t mean he wouldn’t if he didn’t decide it is the better course of action. After all, no matter how strong you prove yourself to be, it doesn’t mean you’re invincible. It doesn’t mean you can’t be hurt. If he keeps you, he can’t make sure you’re safe.

Either way, there is no way to be free of him.

If he kidnapped you, Youpi wouldn’t go so far as to place you in an actual cage or chain you up, but he would find means to make sure you can’t leave.

He is easily the most patient of the trio, including with your rejections and attempts to escape. It doesn’t please him and nothing can convince him to let you go, but at least Youpi doesn’t get angry, condescending, or twist things around. In fact, it gets to the point when you can lose control and try hitting him that he wouldn’t even raise his voice. He would just hold your wrists (carefully) and try to calm you down…

Now, just because he isn’t human, it doesn’t mean Youpi is unable to understand that what he is doing is wrong and why you’re so unhappy. Hey, animals also don’t like to be taken from the place they consider their home like that. He can relate, he can understand. But his obsession is too great for him to let you go and, instead, he hopes that you’ll adapt with time.

Not having human genes and understanding even less about humans than Pitou and Pouf, in his desire to make you comfortable (and make you accept him), Youpi would likely try to learn what he can about humans (probably even asking for Pitou’s help).

For Youpi, your presence alone makes him feel good. While he wouldn’t force you into things that make you uncomfortable or excessively invade your personal space the way Pitou might, there would still be times when Youpi would want to show you some affection. Chances are, he would enjoy holding you close (especially because, next to him, you feel so small and cute) and nuzzling you, which is not only a common expression of affection among animals, but it also gives him an extra opportunity to enjoy your scent.

Youpi might be less cruel than most of yanderes, but this doesn’t mean much. At the end of the day, whether he has kidnapped you or not, the situation is still essentially the same. You’re being hurt either way…

Shaiapouf.

Even in his normal state of mind, for all his apparent calmness and self-control, it’s been showed several times that Pouf can be actually quite intense with his emotions, to the point they cloud his thoughts (and that’s a polite way to say it). Well, multiply that by a thousand and you’ll only scratch the surface of how he becomes as a Yandere.

Even if, by some miracle, this is a scenario where Pouf lives peacefully with humans it doesn’t mean he likes them. It’s more that he “tolerates” and “accepts” their existence as an unpleasant fact and it’s very much unlikely he would have human friends (he would probably find a way to live with comfort and luxury while having as little contact as possible with them). In a sense, you can compare him to some yokais in Inuyasha… He doesn’t go out of his way to antagonize humans (and risk a fight), but he sure as hell doesn’t care for them.

Until you, that is.

Pouf will never be able to say when his feelings for you started to grow and it will take a long time for him to understand them. By the time this happens, well, he is way into “Obsession Land”. Once he can no longer deny what he feels and it hits him that he loves you, his first reaction is… Well, pretty much an emotional tantrum, followed by self-despise and intense fury. How could he ever fall for a human? Disgraceful! Terrible! How could he fall so low? He even tries to hate you for making him feel that way, only to realize he can’t.

This lasts for a while, with him trying to convince himself to bury those feelings, no matter what it takes. If you two are enemies, be prepared: Pouf may consider killing you as the only way to “get rid of this shame”. He soon realizes he can’t bear the idea of you being hurt, let alone by him (well, like this, I mean)… But at least you’re not having to deal with his obsession yet.

Sadly, it doesn’t mean this will last long enough for something to happen before things get out of control. Pouf can’t get you out of his mind, possibly deciding to “observe you” in order to “remind himself” that you’re just a human: Flawed, inferior, and unworthy. This evolves into stalking and has the opposite effect: He becomes more and more infatuated, as well as worried that you might get hurt. You’re so beautiful, so gentle… You should not be fighting! At all! Oh, you’re an angel. No wonder he fell for you! You’re perfect for him!

If this is the “peaceful scenario”, the course of events is still pretty similar, no matter how you’ve met. At first, wanting to get you out of his system, he may be cold whenever you meet and even a little nasty, but it won’t work. He will start to long for more of your presence and if he manages to spend time with you, to consider you only of the few (if not the only) human who is better than the rest of the masses.

Either way, once he accepts that he loves you, you’re screwed.

In the “enemy scenario”, Pouf may try once to convince you to come with him, speaking highly of you and how much he loves you… In his mind, it’s poetry. In reality? The words may be pretty, but the way he says them, the shine in his eyes, the way he insists to hold your hands between his… Well, it’s creepy. Pouf may accept you denying him for a while, but it won’t take long until he seizes the first chance he has to take you. He was just being polite, offering you the chance of doing so by choice (if he does that when you’re gravely injured in a battle, he will use that frequently to point out he saved you and how you need him to keep you safe).

In the “peaceful scenario”, again, it’s not that much a different course of events. Your attempts to make him understand you’re not interested are ignored and there is precious little that anyone can do to keep you safe and, yes, including the Hunter Organization. He would do everything to get you.

In his mind, he is not doing anything wrong. If anything, his actions are almost heroic and proof of his devotion to you.

When you wake up in an unknown location and start to freak out or try to escape, Pouf reacts as if this is just adorable, then going on about how he loves you and wants to keep you safe. And let me tell you, this isn’t a “flowery speech” or like his funny moments in the anime. At this moment you realize you’re in a lot of trouble and that the chances of Pouf ever letting you go are non-existent.

It's not easy to determine exactly how deep his delusion goes; if it’s only about the “perfect life” you two will share or if it includes you. It’s not impossible that Pouf isn’t really in love with you, but rather an idealized version of you. He may also believe that, deep down, you do love him and just need time to realize it.

Pouf is the “adoring” kind of Yandere. He would love to spoil you, care for you, and would want to lavish you with gifts. Perhaps you’d expect him to be the less dangerous of the trio, or at least the most manageable, right? You’re dead wrong. Pouf is actually the worst of them, maybe even on the list of the worst yanderes of all Hunter cast.

His personality also means Pouf doesn’t believe anyone is worthy of your attention and if there is anyone you like (or that he thinks you like), it’s just because they’re manipulative and toxic. It’s his sacred duty to keep you safe from such scum! Perhaps the better term for him, rather than “jealous”, would be “possessive”. As far as he is concerned, you have no need to get in contact with another human ever again.

You thought he hated Komugi? Trust me, that was nothing compared to this.

He would lock you in a room, which you’d only leave while accompanied by him (he can’t have you trying to run off, can he?). Actually… If that happens, you should be glad. This guy isn’t above placing bars along a corner of his chambers (they are certainly large enough), turning that area into your “room” (bed and all). It certainly would appeal to him, especially since it gives him more chance to watch you.

There are stories about how excessive love can be suffocating, the “The Chaser” episode from the “Twilight Zone”… Well, Pouf’s love wouldn’t follow this line. This would be just tiresome. His adoration is frightening, even for a Yandere. The way he’s so sweet to you is mixed with a certain darkness, not letting you forget you’re dealing with an unstable person.

He understands this is a time of adaptation for you and this change of life is a shock, but he wouldn’t be happy if you asked him to let you go every day. In the same sickly-sweet way of always, he will mix subtle (or not so subtle) threats with words of adoration. Maybe he should chain you up… Maybe you’re thinking about that person who (he believes) has a crush on you? Maybe he should make sure you never think of them again…

There is also the fact that Pouf is among the Yanderes who would have almost no respect for your personal space. For all his adoration of you, he can be quite manipulative and controlling: If he wants to hold you in his lap, brush your hair, have you sleeping next to him, dance with you, well… There is little point in fighting. You would have to choose your battles wisely and keep in mind that Pouf isn’t above tying you up if you “start to be difficult”. Some Yanderes are happy enough with having you with them and may have enough patience to “wait for you to love them back”… Well, with Pouf, it depends on his mood.

There would be times when his behavior is all “patient and loving” (more like he just smiles when you try to get away or lash out)… And times when he would basically “demand” that you love him. Not with words, though: You’d learn that there are times when it’s safer for you to act a little more loving towards him (within reason) rather than antagonize him.

#I'm sorry if this was too long #Got carried away #Now I'm wondering about how exactly the Chimera Ants work as a colony #Anyone has a theory? #hunterxhunter #hxh #headcanon #hxh headcanon #yandere #Royal Guards #chimera ants #shaiapouf #pouf #menthuthuyoupi #youpi #pitou #neferpitou #hxh yandere #Somehow I imagine Pouf would be like The Tragedy of Chateau Cepage

[lyracasstuff]

Heya!! I actually just found your blog and I would like to say how amazing your writing it! Aaaa it's so cute and you seem very sweet!! <3

I came here to ask for a idv match up! I'm a female, she/her, I'm bi but I do have a preference towards men. Also, I don't mind a survivor or hunter!! Whatever you feel like atm dear. I'm very energetic when you get me in the right mood!! I love baking and editing! I also quite like photography. I'm a very loving person but can get cold if I feel bad so it's a bad habit TwT. I do give lots of compliments to people and it may seem like i like them but I just really like pointing out nice things about people. I love hugs and kisses especially!! I love it if my s/o could give me attention but not too much yknow? Like i want them to be happy with their life with me and their life outside of our relationship. Umm I hope that's enough!! Thank you for making your blog! It is very nice!! You're doing great!! I appreciate you <3 (ps. Make sure to eat and drink enough~)

Thank you for caring about my health dearie~ Honestly,, I could also say the same for you..(｡･ω･｡)

And I'm quite glad that you enjoy reading my blog posts! It means quite a lot for me whenever I hear people enjoying my blog as much as I enjoy writing them..( ´ ▽ ` )

After much thinking,, I've decided to match you up with...

Joseph Desaulnier!!📷

Let's first address the big elephant in the room: Photography..（・∀・）

Since the both of you love photography,, I can most *definitely* imagine you two taking pictures of scenery found in the manor..

As well as *some* of the silly things that happen outside of matches.. Although,, it's more on your end than Joseph's..

However,, I must also remind you that you WILL be bombarded with questions partaining to your "equipment"..(｡･ω･｡)

Whether it'd be a modern HD camera or your smartphone,, it's safe to assume that Joseph will be VERY much curious about these "equipment" that you have brought from the "future" ((even though we call it anything *but* from the future..))

"Are you telling me that this camera of yours can capture pictures instantly??? With just a simple press of a button??? Then, does that mean you won't have to stand for long periods of time to take your picture???"

((Fun fact: the first cameras that were patented require you to stand for long periods of time to take your picture which explains why plenty of the pictures during the Victorian Era were people staying in one position like standing..))

"This "smartphone" can ALSO capture pictures?? Would you mind showing me how, ma chérie??"

"The quality of the pictures are ABSOLUTELY DIVINE! From what time period must you be to access this kind of machinery, ma chérie???"

I highly suggest that you study your equipment thoroughly because Joseph *will* be asking questions about your photography equipment..

Well,, that and Joseph will *literally* fumble with *every* single nook and cranny of said equipment where he might actually break something on accident..

Which is rare for the gentlemanly and disciplined Joseph,, however we ARE talking about one of his biggest passions here..╮(─▽─)╭

Another topic here that is perhaps connected somehow is editing!!（⌒▽⌒）

Joseph is quite astonished when you told him one time that photos can be tweaked from your time period..

Now, on one hand,, he is amused as he sometimes *does* struggle with getting the perfect picture when the environment around him just isn't having it..

But he also can't fathom the idea of people actually editing their photos so much that sometimes,, the unedited version looks far too different than the edited version...

When I say that,, I specifically mean people who probably use photoshop just a *bit* too much..(^_^;)

Not that there is anything wrong about it as everyone knows.. After all,, sometimes we just use it solely for entertainment by making weird, abstract collages of people..

((Like photoshopping a bunch of characters from different fandoms to make some sort of crack-crossover movie poster..╮(─▽─)╭))

It just that Joseph prefers less edited photos as he believes that a photo can shine on it's own when it's taken skillfully..

((Another fun fact: Based from what I can gather, the French in the 1800s preferred a more natural look, which is evident by their choices in makeup like powder for the face or some simple rouge for the lips and cheeks.. Of course,, we are excluding the hair as we all know that big, elaborate wigs were all the rage in this era..))

In fact,, he might even throw a *little* shade towards photos that are super edited...(◎_◎;)

Pls tell him to calm down and not insult people who do something similar to that.. It'll only escelate and get worse in the future..

Okay,, now that we've discussed those, I think we shall head on over to other things, don't you think??（・∀・）

Another reason as to why I paired you with Joseph is because of your upbeat and loving energy!!（〜^∇^)〜🧡

Joseph's life before the manor was already pretty gloomy, and it hasn't really improved when he got into the manor..

So your very energetic and affectionate nature will surely bring in some lost warmth to his life!!（＞ｙ＜）

Although,, please be patient with him for at least a little while.. After all, him *suddenly* receiving love and attention is a bit overwhelming for him to process all at once..╮(─▽─)╭

When he *does* gets used to it, he appreciates it very much..(∩_∩)

With that being said however,, he is still quite disciplined about the time that you two spend together AND the time that you two spend seperately from each other so you won't have to worry about having your boundaries being meshed together..（・∀・）

On the topic of affections,, Joseph will actually be a bit shocked to hear you dish out compliments to everyone in the manor.. And quite frankly,, as well as everyone else that you complimented

((Listen,, we're talking about the Victorian Era,, where modesty is highlighted as a core value..))

I'll be honest in saying that for a split-second,, Joseph *might've* actually thought of you as a flirtatious person

So when you explained to him that that's just how you are and that you just like to point out nice things about other people,, he's confused..(^_^;)

"Wait, but you complimented Mike's juggling act. Shouldn't that mean that you would like to court him??"

"Didn't you tell Victor that you thought he was sweet?? Pardon me for asking this, but are you... Interested in him, ma chérie?"

You're going to have to explain to him that just because you like a certain aspect of a person,, that doesn't mean you actually like them AS A WHOLE...

He may or not have demanded that you bake for him the next time that you two will have your afternoon tea together..(⌒_⌒;)

It's his "apology gift" as he puts it...

Okay,, I know I said that Joseph absolutely appreciates your loving side,, but he also *adores* your more "colder" side..

And no,, it's not because he's a masochist..(｡･ω･｡)

See, as much as Joseph relishes in the feeling of protecting someone he cares/loves.. Even he can admit that sometimes,, it gets too exhausting when your partner is the *literal definition* of a walking doormat..

I don't know about you,, but I kind of picture Joseph as someone who wants to have a partner that, at the *very least*,, can stand on their own two feet.. It gives Joseph a sense of pride,, see???

In conclusion,, I personally think that you and Joseph would work wonders for each other!! Different in your personalities, but united through the same common interest of photography.. I'd say its a decent balance of "opposites attract" and "similarities attract"..

🎞📷🎞📷🎞📷🎞📷🎞📷🎞📷🎞📷🎞📷

Author's note: On the topic of people photoshopping the heck out of their photos.. DON'T HARRASS/BULLY/INSULT THEM PLEASE!!! I will be blunt in saying that I frankly do not care whatever your intentions were, because when you strip said intentions away from the grand scheme of things,,

All that's left is a situation where someone insulted/bullied/harassed another person just for editing their photos a bit too much..

And when you put it like that,, wouldn't you agree that it sounds idiotic? Because in all honesty, it is..(¬_¬) After all,, those photos won't be affecting you much in the long run now,, would they??

And even if you said that you did it with good intentions, the way you acted upon these "intentions" was poorly done when it could've been handled *much* more efficiently...

So in short,, pls don't harrass anyone that you know that does these to their photos, it's not only for their sake but also yours..( ´ ▽ ` )

I apologize for ranting like that,, however I feel as though these types of situations are completely meaningless AND avoidable had it not been for the people that continue to stick their fingers into others' honeyjars.. So I personally as though it needs to be said.. Again, sorry if this rant is a bit unsettling and a bit "rough on the edges"..(⌒_⌒;)

Well that's about it.. Until next time,, I'll see you all in my next post!!ヾ(＠^∇^＠)ノ💚

#identity v #identity v imagines #identity v headcanons #identity v x reader #identity v photographer #identity v joseph #idv #idv headcanons #idv x reader #idv imagines #idv hcs #idv photographer #idv joseph #joseph desaulnier #joseph desaulnier x reader #joseph desaulniers x reader #idv matchups

[icybeanheadcanons]

Helllowwww there Chilly Bean! I have sampled the lovely assortment of asks you've got here and simply could not resist sending you a contribution! This is for as many skelie-mans as you can muster, only if you wanna tho!

A SO who falls into the underground (frisk never came), and is so kind, sweet, and peaceful that they manage to befriend the entire underground, and be allowed to stay down there a while. After a few months, the SO sees how the monsters are suffering, and goes and offers up their soul to free the monsters. When asked why, they simply respond, "You all deserve to be free. Dieing doesn't really matter to me; why do you think I threw myself down here in the first place?" What are the skelly's reactions?

Thanks a bunch!

I’m giving this a happy ending in particular, I think it’d work. 

Trigger warning: discussion of death/dying, suicide ideation

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

Tale

Horrified. No!! He can’t stand for you to throw away your life!! There has to be an alternative, there is never just 2 options in life. There is always an alternative and he refuses to believe otherwise. He understands, that you aren’t happy with the life you had. But would you please, please consider a happier one with him? One that you could make together? Your sadness, it won’t be forever, he will help you. He promises. Please don’t throw your life away for his sake.

The underground all agrees, and with everyone interfering, you’re allowed to break the barrier with no death required. It’s a relief to everyone, and you’ve done wonderful to make everyone happy, but now? Its time to gain happiness for yourself. 

Classy Bean

He... He recognizes, that feeling. He knows exactly what you’re meaning, and he never realized you’d thrown yourself down here. But he grabs your hand and squeezes it real tight. Your death will not make suffering go away. Yes they will be free, but they will not suddenly recover from that stress. Each monster will have to make those steps themselves to achieve it. To achieve happiness. He knows you’re tired. He knows you want them to be happy. But you aren’t responsible for everyone’s happiness. He’s coming with you to advocate and discuss things with Asgore. No fighting. Just discussion.

Asgore listens, and with a few others chiming in, to help your case, Asgore doesn’t have the will to fight and take your soul. Instead an alternative is worked out to break the barrier. Now it is open, and everyone is free to move out. It will be done in an orderly fashion of course, but it is only the beginning. Classy Bean can only squeeze your hand once again. He hopes the way its all been done, that you’ll gain a sense of care about whether you die or not again. That you’ll want to live. He hopes he’ll want that too. 

Soft Edge

He’s wildly unsettled. While he thinks it is a kind gesture and all, it sounds like more of a suicidal ideation more then anything. Its just now, there’s a very clear beneficial part of it, and it honestly makes him feel sick inside. He refuses to allow you to go alone. 

Befriending all the underground worked out though. And with Papyrus right there glaring the king down, fully ready to challenge him, you’re allowed to open the barrier with the use of the other souls. Papyrus is much happier this way, but he will not be forgetting the literal death wish you have. You deserve a happy ending too, please don’t forget. 

Red Boy

Whoa WHAT do you think you’re doing?? no you’re not fucking DYING. He could care less of what happens to everyone else but to you? no. Absolutely not. But, with you having befriended their underground, the king, asgore, just. He can’t kill you without receiving massive backlash and probably face a coop. 

With everyone in your corner, you’re able to unseal the barrier using the souls and your own to unlock it. Turns out you don’t need to be dead for this to happen. Red Boy is frankly, relieved. He doesn’t care about the world, just you and his brother. Saving the world shouldn’t ask for your life. You deserve to be happy with them. 

#undertale #underfell #undertale papyrus #undertale sans #underfell papyrus #underfell sans #ut papyrus #ut sans #uf papyrus #uf sans #ask #headcanon #undertale headcanons #undertale headcanon #undertale imagines #undertale imagine #death mention #suicide ideation #tw death mention #tw suicide ideation #tw: death mention #tw: suicide ideation

[saltpepperbeard]

So not going to lie, I’m still quite unsettled with the events that happened a few nights back. Now, I completely understand that people don’t wish to see any degree of fighting/debating as the world is already chaotic enough, and Tumblr is often used as a place of escape/relaxation.

But please understand in turn that sweeping away an issue that intersects with my identity is also exhausting. I’m just a bit unsettled that my voice was silenced when I was merely attempting a calm, collected conversation. I’m unsettled that LGBT individuals were, to my knowledge, the only ones blocked (especially in light of avoiding homophobic/biphobic claims). And frankly, I’m unsettled that any of this was an issue to begin with.

I wasn’t done talking, nor done explaining the issue at hand. The discussion wasn’t over. And I was cast aside as a “pot-stirrer/drama starter” for attempting to talk through an issue very near to me. It’s just a bit disheartening to be labeled and treated as such, and to watch the more aggressive/insistent individuals carry on like nothing ever happened. Is this not an issue?

In case anyone needs further context-

I was defending an author and her respective headcanons from being attacked, as were a few others. Anons were insistent on tearing it and her down, even though she’s well within her right to interpret the text/characters however she wants. Said anons began to stir up things on another blog, and subsequent harmful words were brought to my attention. In an attempt to talk things through, defend the author, and perhaps right some wrongs, I engaged in discussion.

Yes, it was a post on someone’s blog. Yes, people are well within their right to post their opinions on their own blogs. But also, this is an interactable, public space. I don’t believe publicly posting something makes it exempt from comments/discussion. Especially, when it’s wrongfully calling out someone I respect.

I completely understand that don’t like/don’t interact can also apply to blogs. For example, I see many posts/headcanons I disagree with, but choose to carry on and ignore them, simply leaving people to their individual spaces. But once again, with someone being clearly misconstrued before me, it was something I couldn’t quite ignore.

I wasn’t trying to “start drama,” nor was I trying to be any sort of aggressor. I was simply attempting to talk things through- particularly if there were any sort of misunderstandings. Because, from my eyes, it seemed like there were plenty. It seemed like so much was getting lost in translation, ie-

The Misunderstanding: If you don’t believe Peeta Mellark is canonically bisexual, you’re biphobic/homophobic.

The Actual Argument: If you don’t accept others headcanoning Peeta Mellark as bisexual or any other sexuality, you may want to examine your own biases/viewpoints.

The Misunderstanding: You cannot headcanon/believe Peeta Mellark to be straight/heterosexual.

The Actual Argument: You can headcanon Peeta to be literally anything you want, as long as you respect others who share differing opinions.

And, even from our side, I thought there could have been a potential misunderstanding. Ie-

The Potential Misunderstanding: Peeta Mellark cannot be anything other than straight.

The Potential Argument: I believe Peeta Mellark to be straight for xyz reasons in the text, but accept the headcanons/the views of those who think differently.

However, when I tried to bring up the latter point, which was admitting my OWN fault/misunderstanding in the discussion, I was blocked. I simply asked if the blog in question accepted others having the varying headcanons, and I was blocked.

This already didn’t sit well with me, as it seemed to be silencing LGBT discussion. Which, for someone attempting to avoid the harsher “homophobic/biphobic” labels, such an action appeared quite contradictory. This later intensified when I learned another LGBT aligned user was also blocked. To my knowledge, no one else who later engaged in the discussion was blocked. And many users were making similar comments/engaging in similar levels of debate.

That was one issue, but the other issue that I find bothersome the “writing-off” attitude this is receiving. Again, again, I completely and wholeheartedly understand people wanting to avoid debate-aligned topics. I know we’re all hurting from 2020, and I know times are hard right now. But if people are hurting and feeling uncomfortable from an unresolved issue, why is it okay to simply treat it as “haha petty fandom fighting?” 

I know I’m dredging this along when it has already died out in a lot of people’s eyes. I get it. But from someone who was repeatedly told that I couldn’t possibly be gay because I’d never dated/slept with a woman, and was consequently forced into a deeper place of self-questioning/loathing, please understand that such a hanging topic makes me agitated. I don’t wish to be silent. I simply wish to respectfully talk/debate wherever necessary.

#Jodi rambles #LGBT #The Discourse TM #The Queens got talking again and it made me GO OFF SJDKSHDL #Like sis the entire thing being unresolved has indeed left me itchy #Like... #I just need to KNOW that people understand where we're coming from #And I'm simply just asking for ACCEPTANCE towards differing headcanons #I am in no way asking for people to CHANGE their own headcanons/interpretations #Absolutely not #Simply to respect others having different views #As long as they're not harmful to others of course #Like again #I strongly disagree with a multitude of headcanons I see #But it's not my place to tell people to think otherwise #SO you headcanon Peeta as straight? Awesome! #You headcanon him as bi/pan? Tight! #Ace? Dandy! #Do I agree with all of those? Nope! But please feel free to interpret however you see fit

[thebibliosphere]

My Heart’s In The Highlands by Amy Hoff (Book Review)

Hey fam, we ready to talk about a Scottish lesbian time traveling romance? 

Also, just an upfront disclaimer on this one: I received an ARC (advance review copy) copy of this book from the Publisher and am writing this review voluntarily.

A Quick Summary:

My Heart’s in the Highlands by Amy Hoff is a sapphic time travel romance set in Scotland, starting in the late 1880s.  Lady Jane Crichton is a learned woman of science (based on the historic ‘Edinburgh Seven’), who has spent her lifetime railing against the restraints of Scottish Victorian life and the expectations placed upon her. Fortunately for Jane, she finds herself in a marriage of convenience (he’s gay and needed a beard to protect his political career, and she needed the financial freedom and support of a wealthy patron. They’re buds about it.) and with the help of her husband, Jane is able to fund her own research and builds a functioning time machine. 

Unfortunately for Jane her time machine malfunctions during one of its voyages, and she finds herself thrown back in time, crash landing into the 13th century. And also into Ainslie nic Dòmhnaill, who is next in line to inherit the great Clan Donald. Which is one hell of a way to find out your a lesbian, but also 10/10 would willingly fall back in time and into the arms of a buff Scottish warrior woman. But Jane also holds a secret. She knows what will become of these lands, and to the people that live on them, and she must choose between her fairy tale romance, or the harsh reality of history that lies ahead. Can her and  Ainslie’s love survive? Or will they be torn apart by time? 

Review:

Okay, so for some perspective going into this review, I am a Scottish editor, and I have worked extensively in the realms of Scottish Historical Romance. Most of you have probably heard of the term ‘Britpacker,’ so if it helps, think of me as a ‘Scots Sifter’—I catch chunks of inaccuracy and gently nudge the phonetic (mis)spellings toward the realms of the accurate. And as a Scottish person who reads romance for both fun and work, it’s a breath of fresh air to read someone who knows what they are doing in this regard. The historical details many readers crave are there in spades, lovingly rendered through beautiful and flowing prose. The (accurate!!!) use of Scots and Gaelic are also masterfully included in the dialect without feeling contrived, and overall enriches the narrative. Hoff is someone who loves Scottish culture and knows it well, and it shows.

(A note for history foodie buffs: I caught one slip-up in the form of potatoes being mentioned in the 13th century when they didn’t arrive in Scotland until 1739. I am, however, willing to concede that perhaps our heroine Lady Jane is perhaps not the first time traveler to have crash-landed into the Highlands. The others were merely better supplied. EDIT: I’ve been informed this error will be corrected in the next print.) As a heroine, Lady Jane is charmingly out of time and place even before she sets foot in her time machine. A woman in her later thirties (a novelty I’ll never tire of in Romance), she holds many convictions and beliefs, both about history and herself. All of which are proven wrong the moment she is flung back in time and meets the charming (and I cannot stress this enough) incredibly buff warrior woman, Ainslie nic Dòmhnaill. Setting aside my more analytical interests in this text, allow me to just say, I would die for Ainslie; something which I feel secure in saying would not happen, as Ainslie would murder anyone that tried. (And I would hold her golden torque and flower all starry-eyed while she did it.) However, there were one or two things that jumped out at me, both as a reader and an editor. While some scenes are concisely eloquent, there are a areas where pacing (and grammar) fall down, and the book feels like it could use with tightening up with another pass at editing. There was very little build up to the romance itself, which is fine, the instant true love trope is a well-loved trope for a reason. But it felt out of character for Jane, who presents initially as either on the demi or ace spectrum, but then falls immediately, if not in love, then certainly in lust with Ainslie. If this was intentional, I cannot say, but her sudden switch in dynamic is jarring and could have used a little gentler development.

Once the romance begins, it is sweet and enjoyable for the most part, but also again not without issue. There’s a distinct lack of verbal consent which modern readers might find discomfiting, especially in the LGBTQ+ spheres which paved the way for better consent and relationship dynamics in modern romance, and if I were asked to tag this book, I’d likely opt to tag it as “dubious consent” just to cover any potential triggers for people who would be unsettled by that sort of thing. (“Tell me no” being met with silence is not the same as consent. It might have worked 20 years ago in publishing, but it wouldn’t/shouldn’t fly now.) I like the characters dearly. Ainslie is smitten with Jane the moment she sets eyes on her, even if Jane is initially very awkward and prickly. Jane is also taken with her glorious redheaded warrior, and frankly, who could blame her? The book also has several of my favorite romantic tropes in it, including the all-time favorite “There’s Only One Bed”, though I wish more had been made of them. The sex scenes are hot and also sweetly endearing at times, though again I would like to see more explicit consent. Overall, it’s not a bad debut novel into the forays of Romance for a first-time Romance author. It’s enjoyable, but I am left with nagging the feeling that it could have been so much more. To my mind, where this book truly excels is Hoff’s love affair with history and Scotland itself. Their narrative shines in moments of reflection, and the subtle and nuanced injections of historical detail, which in my experience, are rarely done so well in this genre. But this is however a Romance novel, and the time-traveling scientist lesbian and her buff redhead warrior girlfriend felt second fiddle to the history at times, which was disappointing because how often do you get to say those words together? Not enough, in my opinion. Overall, I’d rate this as 3.5 out of 5, though it would have been a solid four were it not for the issues surrounding pacing and consent. If Hoff chose to continue the series, however, I’d absolutely be down for more of it. I want to see the characters grow and thrive. I just think a little more experience with the genre (and better editing) is needed first. My Heart’s In the Highlands is available now on Kindle, Paperback, and most other online retail stores. You can also buy directly from the Publisher.

#my heart's in the highlands #amy hoff #book review #arc copy #links #sapphic romance #lesbian romance #time travel romance #highland romance

[jinruihokankeikaku]

summary bulletpoint review of Shin Eva

[obligatory disclaimer that this is all, just, like, my opinion, man<3]

POSITIVE

Shinji's instrumentality scene with Gendo

Ryoji Kaji the Younger and Misato's development as an actual mother was great, deeply moving and deeply painful (as Eva should be.)

the entire first act of the film, honestly

more characterization for Asuka Shikinami and Ayanami/Rei 3, perhaps the best in all of the Rebuilds

it's a beautiful film, the animation in magnificent (even the CG, if you ask me), and the setpieces and action scenes all worked really well and didn't seem to have a disproportionate presence relative to other parts of the film

cannot emphasize enough how good the first act is. If the entire film had carried on that tone, atmosphere, and theming, I think my overall impression of it would have been much more favorable.

i liked the music, especially the callback to "The Passage of Emptiness" around 0:20:00 (I'm sure there are other score callbacks that I didn't catch, too)

many of my issues with / questions about 3.0/Q were resolved in a serious, focused way

the third act was nothing short of stunning visually and narratively, despite my thematic objections

I had fun with it. It was an enjoyable film, and still a cut above a lot of both recent anime and recent Western scifi blockbusters I've seen. For all my issues with the film, I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy it on both of my viewings so far, and I've no doubt I'll come back to it. I would unequivocally recommend Shin Eva to both fans and non-fans, despite....everything I'm about to say.

NEUTRAL / MIXED

everything about the Book of Life (whatever that is) and the non-resolution given to the question of whether or not the Rebuilds constitute a sequel or a separate continuity. It'll doubtless be a subject of debate for years to come.

by extension, everything to do with Kaworu, frankly. I thought he was great in Q, and because of that, my feelings on his presence in 3.0+1.0 amount to something along the lines of "he was great, insofar as he was there, but I wish we'd more of him."

the resolution of Gendo and Yui's relationship. I know it was pretty polarizing, and while I understand both the "perfect narrative resolution" and "misogynistic and deeply unsatisfying" takes, I'm not sure I'd entirely agree with either of them. It's well-executed for what it is, but still fundamentally unbalanced and not quite on par with the way it was handled in The End of Evangelion, imo.

the resolution of Shinji and Kaworu's relationship. I almost put this in the negative section, but to be frank, I never expected them to end up together, and as much as I love Kawoshin, I understand that that's not the direction the Rebuilds were ever going to take, nor is it a direction I think Shin Eva should've taken. Furthermore, I think the way the concept of the Time Loop was handled about as well as it could have been - an excellent balance between Nonetheless, I think the Kaworu section of the Instrumentality sequence was weak and overly dismissive towards the validity of Kaworu's feelings, his actions, and (if you'll pardon the irony) his humanity.

the balance of action / atmosphere / characterisation. It's not perfect, but it's better than any of the other Rebuilds, with (as previously stated) the first act carrying most of my favorite atmospheric/character moments, and the second act containing the best action sequences.

the general tone of the film. It started off very strong, with a feeling reminiscent to that which The End of Evangelion left me with, and maintained a suitably dark-yet-hopeful tone for most of the second act as well. However, it fell apart entirely for me in the third act, and especially in the final scene (which I'll comment on further later).

Rei 3 / Ayanami. I adored her. For exactly that reason, I think it's a damn shame she had to LCL-splode less than halfway through the film.

Ryoji Kaji the Elder. Everything we saw of him was magnificent! So I sure wish there was more of it! Given the scope of Shin Eva's content, I guess that's more of an objection to 3.0, but...I guess I just dearly hope we get more material covering the 14-year timeskip, WILLE's revolt, Kaji's sacrifice, and everything leading up to it. It feels like a missed opportunity (unique to the Rebuilds) for character development Kaji might've received. But on the whole, that's a minor quibble relative to how fond of his and Misato's relationship in the Rebuilds were handled in 3.0+1.0.

NEGATIVE

Mari / "Mary Iscariot". Enough has been said about Mari's "enigmatic" character, so I'll not harp on this too much, but....as someone who loved Mari's presence in 2.0 and was basically okay with her role in the Rebuilds as a whole, there was still a remarkable dearth of character development for her, which left me disappointed on the whole, especially considering...

...the final scene. That final scene. Oh man. I don't want to devalue the personal meaning it has for Anno, or the sense of satisfaction some of my fellow Eva fans got from it. But the more I think about it, the more it doesn't work for me. After the credits started rolling on my first viewing, I remember writing in my notes app - "How am I supposed to feel about this?". After my second viewing, I was left with.....exactly the same feeling. The scene is framed as unambiguously positive, and yet....it simply doesn't come across that way, upon further contemplation. Even setting aside my abiding love for KawoShin and AsuShin, I think even from a ship-neutral perspective the scene doesn't quite carry across the message of Hope what it seems to intend to.

The film's themes. For all its narrative and visual strengths, the film left me feeling confused, empty, and....fucking confused. And not in the same way EoTV or EoE did - my confusion was not to do with the actual events of the film, but with the emotional and psychosocial messages conveyed. I won't presume to know Anno (or his co-directors') intentions, but....it's hard for me to not feel like I'm being told to set aside the past and hope for a deus-ex-machina to fix my life. This is also something about which a lot of ink has already been spilled, so I'll keep my thoughts on this front short (especially since I can't tell if I'm giving the filmmakers too much credit, or not giving them enough), but....the plain fact that Shin Eva seems, at least superficially, to present itself as a thematic antithesis to The End of Evangelion is enough to leave me upset or at least unsettled. That's more of an emotional reaction on my part than an actual critique of the film, I know, but....I'd be remiss in not including it in my review.

Ritsuko - specifically, the fact that she was reduced to a side-character at best, with arguably less of a presence than even Fuyutsuki, and perhaps even comparable to the minor roles of the rest of the Bridge Crew. She was so very compelling in Neon Genesis Evangelion and even in her brief screentime in The End of Evangelion, and while I can hardly say I was expecting her to play a key role in Shin Eva after her diminished presence in the previous Rebuild installments, I can't say I wasn't hoping for that, either. Ritsuko deserved better, but like a few other things I've mentioned, that was more of an issue with Rebuild of Evangelion as a whole than it was an issue with Shin Eva.

Asuka Shikinami. She had her moments, but fell short of the intensity and depth of character Asuka Soryu was given. There's much more to be said here, but frankly it merits its own post, cos this one is getting long already.

And finally, I'll just say again that more than anything else this film left me confused. It left me questioning the value of the Rebuilds as a whole, the messages of NGE and EoE, and my own character as a person. Maybe that was the point. After my first viewing, I said out loud something to the effect of "So this must be what so many people felt after seeing The End of Evangelion. Now I get it!". Perhaps that speaks to the power of the film - it certainly speaks to Anno's enduring talent as a writer/director - but, for a film that was meant to be a spiritual successor to The End of Evangelion, it's impossible for me to say that it didn't fail to carry on that film's message of Hope despite everything, Hope in the face of despair, Hope against the hopelessness of the human condition, and the abiding power of the human person to persist beyond both the indignities it suffers at the hands of others and the indignities it inflicts upon others. It failed in that regard, to my view, and for all that I loved about Shin Eva, that's one failing I'm afraid I might never be able to get past.

TL;DR

I loved Shin Eva. I hated Shin Eva. I respect it for what it is, but I can't bring myself to put it on the level with Neon Genesis Evangelion or The End of Evangelion. Watch it. Definitely watch it, if you haven't already (and if you haven't, why are you reading this?!). The film leaves you with a closing sequence that demands that you draw your own conclusions, and ultimately, I think that's all you can do with a work that carries with it such personal weight (for both the creators and the viewers) and such heavy expectations.

#shin eva #neon genesis evangelion #evangelion spoilers #evangelion 3.0+1.0 #shin evangelion #3.0+1.0

[the-golden-ghost]

for the "get to know you" ask game: 11, 22, 41, 49, 125, 129, 174, 215?

11. Favorite song?

Uh... I don't have a FAVORITE favorite but I do kind like Turn the Lights Off by Tally Hall

22. A good quality of mine?

I have been told I am meek an unassuming. AND chill, but that last one's a ruse!

41. Do I have any strange phobias?

Trains

49. Superpower I wish I could have?

Probably shapeshifting cause then you just get all the others by default. Need to be invisible? Shapeshift into part of the background. Want to fly? Turn into a bird. Need electrical powers? Shift all your atoms to be electric who cares the world is your oyster now

125. The Beatles or Elvis?

Frankly I don't really like either but if I had to pick I'd pick Elvis

129. Forest or Beach?

DON'T DO THIS TO ME

Okay beach probably but I grew up in the forest, man...

174. Best gift I've ever received?

My grandmother gave me a painting of a nifty little bluebird (the thing is actually kind of unsettling. Creepy bluebird) but it's on-brand for me, and it was the last thing she gave me before she forgot who I was due to Alzheimer's so it's nice. I still have it and intend to always have it

215. Weirdest talent I have?

Um... I can say the alphabet backwards but that's neither weird nor a talent. I'm currently blanking on this one

[bbnibini]

PSISLY: An Obey Me!CYOA – sixty-three🔖

{ OPEN STATUS : YES

> approved

> displaying capture targets

Mammon : 85♡/100♡

Satan : 95♡/100♡

Barbatos: 0♡/100♡

Lucifer : 5♡/100♡

@#&)(@)€RR0Я : ∞??!@????♡/10000000000♡

CLOSE STATUS : YES

>approved }

[ Wake him up ]

(Satan’s affection +5)

Satan was unbelievably adorable when he's half-asleep. The hand you reached out to him is currently being nuzzled. If he purred right there, you were quite sure that you would lose it.

"Wake up, Satan!"

He didn't budge. It took consecutive pokes on his cheek for his eyes to open, green eyes peeking and demanding sleep.

"I would love to let you sleep some more, but we'll be locked out if we stay here any longer."

He nodded in his half-asleep state and reached out for your hand to hold it and to stand back up properly. Rubbing his eyes, he let out the cutest yawn that made your heart melt.

"Why are you smiling like that?" You heard him stutter out, knowing the reason completely. The tinge of pink on his cheeks was telling.

"Nothing~"

…and the mischievousness of your replies were also telling of your intent. He pinched your cheeks to avenge his past self. He frowned when he saw you were unfazed.

“Oh! There’s the janitor!” You beamed, bright and cheeky compared to the dark and dreary sky blanketing the ambiguous beginnings of the evening. Satan was more annoyed at you than indignant, truthfully not having the strength nor the will to get angry at you because of the cursed feeling called love that seemed to make you his every exception. You seemed to know this very fact, he couldn't help but surmise, for you seemed to always be testing the extents of those feelings. Whether it was intentional or not did not matter. It wouldn't change the feelings that you stir in his heart.

“Show me your phone!”

See? Even his shouting was more levelled than he wanted. You were a hard person to hate.

"How about no? MY. WALLPAPER. NOW~”

You saw the surly janitor’s lips twitch at your antics--well look at that, he can actually smile! And all it took was a stolen picture of your sleeping cat boy!

The “chase” continued even as you exited RAD, out of breath and laughing all the way home. You were hugged from behind as soon as you stopped to catch your breath. There was annoyance in his face as you looked up, which you returned with a toothy grin that vanished immediately on your face as he closed the distance between you. By the time he was satisfied, your lips were sore and red. Not that you mind—

“!!!”

The alarming noise you both heard however, did. You looked at each other with confused expressions, and you were the first person to ask him,

“Did you hear that?”

Satan signalled you to keep your voice down as he nodded. “It came from your room.”

Weird. You were sure you locked your room. But as you strained your ears to hear more, you did hear something. Whoever it was definitely didn’t have discretion as their priority. You were sure they knocked down the stack of books you just organised that morning, for you heard them curse as if they were buried in its sheer amount. Satan had been hanging around you lately, so some of his items were still there.

“I think I have an idea on who it is.”

Oh? You didn’t want to believe it, but it seems that he was the only possibility. As Satan opened the door, you had mixed feelings when you and your thief locked eyes. Books were strewn on the floor, and he too was somewhat caught in all the clutter, holding Satan’s beloved gift to you in utmost care. You heard Mammon curse when he looked up to see both of you. His deep blue eyes were laced with surprise.

“I-I can explain!” He struggled to get out from the stack of books burying him underneath. “It ain’t what it looks like--!”

“Really?” Satan bent down and plucked a singular flower from the bouquet, twisting its stem with his fingers. “This particular breed of carnations costs a lot of money if you sell it on Akuzon. Even a single flower can give you a small fortune.”

If he was aware of how extravagant his gift was, then why must he let you carry it in public? It was embarrassing!

“Tell me, Mammon.” Satan barred the only exit to your room with cold eyes. “How did you get in here?” You can feel Satan’s murderous aura from your side. If you won’t stop him now, you weren’t sure what will happen. So you did what any desperate not-lover would…and held his hand.

!!!

Satan looked surprised and turned to you with flushed cheeks. “Must you do this at a time like this?” He stuttered, ultimately betraying his words as he squeezed your hand back. His anger had finally subsided, his tone more subdued that you couldn’t help but sigh in relief.

“We need to hear him out.” You reasoned, pleading him with your eyes.

“Even if the evidence is glaring?” Satan frowned further, so you pacified him again with a squeeze to his hand.

“Anger wouldn’t solve this.” He looked hurt at your words so you had to clarify your meaning. “Mammon has a right to explain himself. I knew him long enough to be sure that he wouldn’t steal from me without reason.” And looking back on it...despite his not-so-sterling reputation, Mammon never did steal things from you. It was incredibly strange of him to sneak around your room like this in the first place. You looked up at Satan and smiled reassuringly. “Thank you for getting angry for my sake.”

Satan sighed heavily in relent. “You’re way too lenient on him. But you’re right. Thank you too for calming me down.”

Your beloved Avatar of Wrath had a lot of complicated feelings with regards to his representative sin—and while you couldn’t grasp it in its entirety yet, you were hopeful that you would understand him deeper as your relationship progressed. What you only knew now was that you didn’t want him to feel saddened by being branded only for his anger when you can see how painfully he struggled to set himself apart from it. The Satan you knew was awkward, yet thoughtful and gentle and kind.

“Anytime.” You kissed his knuckles as you let go, bending down to help Mammon get out from the book pile.

You...couldn't read Mammon's expression (as weird as it was). He usually had his heart on his sleeve, but somehow...it felt like he was trying desperately to hide something.

“Thanks…” Mammon’s words were almost a whisper as he clutched the bouquet to his chest.

“So—“

“I—!” Mammon interrupted, but stopped his words prematurely, looking at Satan, then at you, then at Satan again.

“…I didn’t steal nothin’!”

“Then, may I ask why you were here?”

“!!!”

He looked uncomfortable, but you pressed on. You didn’t want to be suspicious of him, but Satan had a point too.

“…Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“Yes, Mammon. What do you mean by maybe?” (Satan)

Sataaaaaaaan! Oh, of course he didn’t look angry. He was definitely holding back for your sake, but you can still feel the venom in his words.

Oh, there it was. Your beloved, transparent, exasperating yet endearing old friend. You felt relieved to see him back again. It was odd seeing Mammon so solemn.

“MAYBE I WAS ACTUALLY GONNA SELL IT! HAPPY?!” That exasperating yet endearing old friend said, clutching the flowers tighter to his person. His admittance however, only worsened the situation.

.

.

.

.

The smile on Satan’s face was unsettling. It reminded you of that one old school movie that coined a certain term in a certain website.

“You heard him.” He turned to you with that same, plastic smile.

You did hear him. There was definitely a reason behind it—a reason he didn’t seem to be comfortable sharing with his brother, but you still couldn’t help your disappointment. Perhaps you were lenient on him as Satan said, but you justified your leniency by telling yourself that that was just him being him, and you cared for him as a friend so you should let it pass. But now that you were finally on the receiving end of his stealing agenda, a sense of clarity only brought by experience started to dawn on you: there were no heroes nor villains in this situation. Mammon’s brothers had every right to get angry at Mammon for his stealing habits, and Mammon had every right to find their treatment of him despite it all unfair. So where should you, a neutral party, stand? Do you chime in at their (oftentimes) harsh criticisms of Mammon’s character, or must you call out their unfair prejudice?

“I understand,” You found yourself saying despite not understanding your almost instinctual replies entirely; only filtered out by your desire for objectivity. You looked up at Mammon and decided to be honest with him.

“I’m disappointed in you.” You saw him shrink from where he stood, yet the firmness of his hold on the bouquet indicated that he didn’t regret his actions. “But, I want to understand why you were desperate enough to do this. You’ve never done this before, after all.”

Mammon’s eyes looked almost watery as he bit his lip and nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“I accept your apology.” You said your next sentence a lot softer: words only meant for Mammon to hear. “You have your reasons, don’t you?”

Mammon gulped as he locked eyes with a still-smiling Satan, whose sinister look already foretold his doom. Your attempts to negotiate with his blond harbinger of death ended in failure.

“I’m afraid I can’t just let this pass. He deserves to be punished for this and you can’t tell me otherwise.”

Ah. Mammon already gave up. You saw the light in his eyes fade as he smiled at you in defeat.

“Satan!”

“Fine. I’ll consider giving him a lighter punishment for your sake.”

“Sataaaan.”

“I promise to give him a lighter punishment for your sake.”

Well, that was the best you can do. At least that brought back a bit of colour on Mammon’s face. You could only hope for the best now.

stn

I’ll be late. Don’t wait for me.

Texting Lucifer about your worries only made the situation worse.

Lucifer

Frankly, I think it’s about time you would stop coddling him. He would be punished accordingly.

You

its not that i dont understand. i just think satan is going too far. mammon never did this to me before

Lucifer

Never means eventually in Mammon’s vocabulary and you know that.

You

i don’t. i believe in mammon. he’s the guardian demon you assigned for me, after all.

You  

don’t get me wrong. im definitely disappointed. in fact, im very upset right now. im beginning to understand your perspective now. it doesn’t change the fact that i still care for mammon though.

Lucifer

…fine. I’ll see to it that any punishment he receives would be…fair in human standards.

You  

thank you! oh! satan is with you right now, isn’t he?

Lucifer

Yes. Do you want to relay a message?

You

yea. he isn’t answering my texts so could you please ask him what he meant by “confiscating my bouquet?”

Lucifer  

…

You

Lucifer?

Lucifer

...you will know soon.

You  

???

Lucifer

Get some rest. Good night.

END

Weeeeiiiiiiiiiiiiiird. Even the twins who whisked you away from your room were also acting strange.

Any questions about the meaning behind their surreptitious glances and conspiratorial remarks were answered with seemingly oblivious offers of playing several rounds of Devilkart with you in Levi’s room.

“NO! THEY CAN’T GO IN!”

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.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

If you would ever be allowed to enter, that is. He was still angry over what happened with your pop-up café plans(which he had every right to do so). You weren’t expecting to be forgiven, so you shouldn’t really feel too disappointed and hurt that he was acting so distantly with you again. You deserved it, after all.

“I’m sorry, Levi—“

…the door was slammed at your face once the twins were let in. It didn’t hurt you as you were able to back away before the impact, but a portion of your heart seemed to have taken some damage. With bitten lips, you let your palms rest against the door, hoping your words were getting through him.

“I’m really sorry…” Somewhere along the way, you found that you stopped trying to make up with him. You had been so comfortable with each other that the fact that he was acting distant with you again never seemed to dawn on your mind until now. You thought he just needed more time, more space…but perhaps you should have tried harder.

“Sorry, Beel. Belphie. I’ll just get some sleep for tonight.”

You heard someone shout. A strong force pulled you inside—enough to make you lose your balance and stumble upon the closest person on your vicinity. He was still holding your hand, his eyes wincing at the pain of the impact. He looked like he hadn’t slept for days.

“Levi! Are you okay?”

You hurriedly got off him and offered your hand. He looked at it for a while before reluctantly taking it to stand, eyes glued on the floor.

“Lucifer told us you can stay here for tonight.”

“Oh…” You sounded disappointed.

“He’s really worried about you.” Beel suddenly chimed in, handing you your usual Devilkart controller. “Maybe he’s just embarrassed to make up with you.”

“Can’t we just start already? I’m getting sleepy.” Belphie added, yawning to prove his point.

“You’re worried? For what?”

“!!!” Levi’s face suddenly turned really red. Any attempt to cover his flushed face was futile.

“Is it because you heard I was stumped with so much work?”

“!!!”

“Are you the one who gave me snacks in the break room?”

Ah, he wasn’t looking anymore. His face was now completely covered by his hands. The tip of his ears were also dyed in that lovely colour.

You felt warm all over. Something was stinging your eyes and causing them to close. Before you knew it, you were tackling him on the ground again, relieved. Happy—the last thing you’d ever want to happen is to lose such an important friend.

“I’m so sorry, Levi! So much just happened and—!”

“I know.” His hand hovered over your back, reluctant for contact. “But next time, tell me in advance. I don’t want to read through those text walls of apologies again!”

“Sorry…”

Where would you even begin to tell him? So much had happened since your fight. Perhaps you can start with a round of Devilkart? Sometimes, games and hobbies were the best form of communication after all. And you knew for sure that you weren’t the only one who missed gaming nights together.

“Get off. Your snot is getting all over me.”

“Okayyyy.”

“Matchups are decided with rock, paper scissors. We’ll start after you wash your face.”

“Okayyyyyy.”

You heard him complain about his back as he returned to his seat and looked over you. It was such a relief to see his face again.

“Hey Henry?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s nice to see you back.”

Smiling, you told him, “Me too.”

💌tag requests @lilliansstuff, @krussyfed, @cupsof-tea

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