#the stress man… betas (makes especially) i feel like need to be in control

[bibbykins]

Moonlight Reign Ch. 2

A/N: Sorry I keep disappearing, but hopefully I won't be doing it again! Nothing crazy happened, really, just life gets in the was, you know? But I am back with another part, and I hope you like it!! Everyone say thank you to my sweet B @rapline-heaux for beta-reading. She is the best, go read her stuff!! Also strap in for this one lol

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Yandere! Mafia! BTS x Reader

Words: 5.9k

Warnings: crime, sensory flashbacks, trauma, unhealthy relationships, yandere behavior, pining, violence, past abuse, past neglect, academic neglect, talk of stitches, wound description, panic attack, nails pressing into palm, brief suicidal thought

Namjoon watched the clock tick by as Jungkook slept on his chest. Something about you… didn’t feel right. He couldn’t explain it, and he was pretty sure he wasn’t jealous. Although, he would have reason to be. You were beautiful and your figure only added to it. Not to mention the way you looked straddling Jungkook was objectively erotic looking– but that wasn’t the point. The point was how nonchalant you were about the whole thing. From giving his boyfriend stitches to fighting him off to reacting that way when he grabbed you, Namjoon knew there was something more there. 

The seven of them had built Bangtan from the ground up, and especially as anniversary day was coming up, it unnerved him to encounter someone he couldn’t get a read on. He would need to have Yoongi look into what he could find about you. The seven of them were all leaders, but Namjoon controlled the above-ground operations while Yoongi managed the underground ones, and something told Namjoon he’d need to look there for anything about you. 

First, he just had to get your full name from the younger man drooling on his chest. He sighed as he brushed a hand through Jungkook’s hair, wanting to be angry with him for getting drunk and getting into a fight, but he just couldn’t. After the last few years Jungkook had, he deserved to let loose, what worried him was that he was doing him more often than usual. Jungkook usually only acted out this much when he was holding something in. It didn’t help that the leader had been halfway across the world for the past month. Namjoon was never one to pry or be too good with feelings out of all of them, but he had a nagging feeling it had to do with you. 

Eventually, sleep found the older man and he was awoken by the smell of food wafting into the bedroom. His eyes finally cracked open when he felt a kiss being planted on his cheek, “Wakey, wakey.” Hoseok sang, and chuckled at the look of confusion Namjoon gave him, “Jungkook called us all over for breakfast since it’s been a while since we’ve all been in the same city.” 

Namjoon was finally fully awake and could hear Jungkook singing along to some show tune with Jin in the kitchen and scoffed, “He’s awfully spry for someone who should be nursing one hell of a hangover.” He mumbled and Hoseok snorted.

“Yeah, I’m sure Yoongi is going to want a full report on last night.” The older man shook his head, knowing it would only stress out the aforementioned man, “Brightside is he should calm down when Jimin and Taehyung tell him the news.” The younger man raised a brow in question but Hoseok shook his head, “I’m not the type to spoil a surprise.” He chuckled before pressing a soft kiss to the man’s furrowed brow, “You’ll know soon enough, let’s go.” 

Hand in hand, the two take their seats as Jin and Jungkook place plates in front of the five sitting men, “I see someone is trying to make up for getting trashed last night.” Taehyung sang.

“Or I just miss having all my boyfriends in the same room.” Jungkook huffed as he took his seat next to Yoongi who gave him a glare, “Oh, come on. You cannot seriously be mad at me?” He flashed his doe eyes to the man and fluttered his lashes. 

Jimin clicked his tongue, “That’s not seriously going to work, is it?” He whined, “Yoongi never lets me get away with shit from just looking at him.”

“You get away with plenty.” Jin quipped at the fighter.

Yoongi ignored the commotion as his hands brushed Jungkook’s hair out of the way to look at the stitches, “Who did those, baby?” His voice was soft but with the way the youngest man shrunk, he knew he wouldn’t like the answer. 

“Well, I guess I’ll just go ahead and give the report of last night’s events.” Namjoon huffed through a bite of bacon, “You want to start, Kook?” He raised a brow.

The man sighed and nodded, “Well, I finished all my work early, like usual.” He began smugly. Jungkook in general was a skilled person, so he didn’t have just one job, but most often he was digging up dirt on people via his computer skills, “Then, I had my regular neighbor dinner.” He smiled at the thought, and Jin noticed Jimin and Taehyung scowling a bit at this. The two were the most jealous of this elusive neighbor, which was odd since even on the seldom occasions the others sought the company of someone else, it never affected any of them. Nowadays, they don’t really go outside of the relationship, but it’s still interesting to see them so jealous, but they kept silent as Jungkook continued, “We watched Jimin win, so then I decided to go out and… celebrate.” His smile turned guilty.

“This close to the anniversary, Kook?” Jin sighed and Yoongi kept deathly quiet. 

“I’ll assume that’s where your memory stops?” Hoseok asked and Jungkook nodded sheepishly.

“Well, I then got a call from one of our guys at around three in the morning that some rookie was running his mouth and pissed Kook off.” Namjoon sighed, “Jungkook won the fight even sloshed out of his mind if that’s any consolation.”

“Nice.” Jimin grunts and Taehyung snickers at the glare Yoongi shoots him.

“Then, I drag him all the way here and he collapses at his neighbor’s door, insisting she’ll fix him up.” The CEO continues the story and notes how Hoseok shifts at the mention of this, “What was even weirder is that she did, like it was super normal.”

“It’s not that normal.” Jungkook argued weakly.

“She said it wasn’t uncommon.” Namjoon snapped and Yoong put his head in his hands, “I will also say it was really eerie the way she could just handle how Jungkook gets when she woke up.” 

“She’s a nurse, you guys know that.” The man tried to defend.

“A high school nurse.” Taehyhung corrected, causing the hacker to pout, “I doubt she has to restrain her patients regularly.” 

“Did I hurt her when I woke up?” Jungkook asked and this made Namjoon falter.

“That doesn’t matter right now.” The CEO offers, “What I was getting at is I think Yoongi and Jungkook should do a deeper background check than the initial one we did-”

“No.” Jungkook spat, partly shocking Namjoon at the venom in his voice. The youngest’s face was twisted in distaste at the idea, “You all promised-”

“That was before I saw the way-”

“No!” He shouted, shocking everyone at the table as his eyes began to glisten, “I’ve known her for years now, and she’s never been pushy about what’s going on in my life or why I have six boyfriends she’s never even met and in return, I don’t ask her questions.” Namjoon’s jaw clenched at this. Most of the time if an arrangement was too good to be true, it’s because it was. If he didn’t care so much about Jungkook’s love and trust he wouldn’t have even bothered to bring it up. At times like these, being in love was more frustrating than ever as he listened to Jungkook, “She trusts me and I trust her that way, I don’t want to ruin the only friendship I have outside of us.” His voice cracks at the end, making everyone soften a bit. Jungkook was right. It’s been just them for a long time, and you were the only friend he really had. You weren’t a drinking mate or gambling buddy, you were a friend. And yet, he felt like Namjoon was trying to take that away from him.

“Kook, have you considered she might not ask questions because she’s hiding something herself?” Taehyung gently asked, but it didn’t simmer the hacker’s anger.

“I don’t care if she’s hiding anything.” He snapped, making Jin sigh, “I’m hiding plenty and none of that has stopped us from being close so please, just leave it alone.” He pleaded, but Yoongi’s expression was unreadable, “Hoseok did those couple random shadows of her a few years ago and he saw nothing of concern.” He reminded them, and truthfully, how could any of them have forgotten? The act itself caused one of their worst arguments to date. Originally, Taehyung insisted on Jungkook digging up every piece of information he could about her and giving it to them, which made the youngest even more closed off about his friend. Finally, after days of disagreeing, Hoseok was the only one entrusted with your full name, not that it would’ve been all that hard to find.

The man in question nodded, “It was quite boring actually, but it’s true. Even the phone calls she took were a snoozefest.” He sighed just remembering them, “I’d never seen such a killjoy of a college student before, and I’m sure she’s the same as a nurse.” Granted, Hoseok’s specialty was not in surveillance, but Taehyung and Jungkook were too biased in opposite ways to do the shadowing, and the chemist was the only one with the extra time to do it. 

Jungkook nodded, “She really does just go to work and home.” He mumbled ruefully, “Plus, even if she’s someone else or whatever, at the end of the day, she saves me a hospital trip and hasn’t said anything to anyone, evidently.” He added and Namjoon looked to Yoongi who sighed in defeat but nodded.

“Fine, we’ll drop it.” Yoongi finally spoke and Namjoon bristled, “She hasn’t caused any trouble, sounds like a good friend, and is smart enough not to ask any questions. There’s no reason not to trust Jungkook’s judgment.” He explained to the more skeptical men, Namjoon, Taehyung, and Jimin, who simply nodded in defeat before turning to the youngest, “Just, be more careful, okay?” He looked to the younger man who nodded before giving him a chaste kiss on the lips, “It was pretty risky bringing Namjoon there, even if accidentally. If she does know anything, she could’ve recognized him as the head of Bangtan Corp and unraveled quite a bit.” He said and Jungkook nodded. Even though he doubted you even knew an underground existed, let alone that Bangtan was running it, he understood Yoongi being weary, “Let’s enjoy our breakfast together, yeah?”

They all nodded before falling into their regular lull. No matter how much time they spent apart for work, it was easy for them to get together like no time had passed. The seven of them had been dating for a couple of years now, and though the relationship was loving, it was by no means perfect, that much was obvious. The organization had risen to its height because of their ability to work through those hardships together, but with the rise of their syndicate came less time for one another. This paired with secrets and disagreements that were littered throughout the relationship made for a good chunk of tension when work was exceptionally stressful, like during the anniversary. This was why the relationship was open, but Jungkook was the only one with a consistent connection outside of them, which was most likely why it ruffled some of their feathers. 

“Now, I’m told Taehyung and Jimin have some good news?” Namjoon brings up and the two men in question grin at each other, and he can tell they’re silently deciding who should be the one to say it. 

“We found a certain little weasel last night.” Taehyung sang. 

“Found and captured.” Jimin added, and the two didn’t need to elaborate for the other men to know what they meant. 

Yoongi smirked, sadism written along his features as he caught Namjoon’s eyes, “We’ve got an exciting day ahead of us.”

—

Your eyes cracked open slowly as you hissed when sunlight invaded your pupils. You squinted, not sure how you forgot to fully close the blinds, especially during the anniversary week, but you let it go. Work had been especially a nightmare with the beginning of a new term, and the blinds were just barely cracked, not enough for anyone to peak in much but certainly enough for the sun to wreak havoc on you. You stretched your arms forward, taking in a deep breath before craning your neck to look at the time, 10:24 am, nice. You actually managed to get a good amount of sleep even with the chaos at your door last night. 

Your sleepy eyes landed on the shallow cut on your forearm beneath the wrapping you put on it. It looked a lot like a cat scratch, which you were thankful for. The last thing you needed was any nosy colleagues or students asking too many questions. Telling people you got the wound from having to tackle your only friend was less than ideal. You snorted to yourself. Truly, you should have more questions or concerns with Jungkook, but you just didn’t have it in you anymore. You spend the entire first two years of your friendship insanely weary, and you already spend your time like that with everyone else. It was nice to have someone you didn’t need to constantly be on guard from. Your fingertips ran over the bandage, hoping that you had made the right choice, but even then, it was far too late to change anything now. 

You liked Jungkook more than you cared to admit, even to yourself, so when you heard his telltale knocking on your door in the middle of your morning cable surfing, you didn’t even bother to turn off the TV before going to the door. You rolled your neck before opening the door with a bored expression when Jungkook’s wide eyes met yours, “Morning, sport.” You drawled, leaning against your door frame.

Crossing your arms over your chest, Jungkook took notice of the bandage on your forearm, “Did I do that?” He asked worriedly.

You shrugged, looking away from him, “If you think about it, the needle is technically the culprit–”

“Y/n, I’m serious.” He pleaded, making you straighten up, but your gaze stayed fixed elsewhere, “Look at me, please.” He spoke, and you cursed yourself for obeying. You were accustomed to following orders, and something about the way Jungkook bothered to say please made it that much easier to listen to him, but you could only hope he didn’t realize this. “Did I hurt you?” His gaze burned you, and it made you hate his need for eye contact at times like these.

You sighed, examining the guilt on his face. The look made you feel like an asshole even though you didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t like this part of your friendship. The serious, gravelly talks about what he did last night or about whatever breakdown of yours he happened to witness. The care in his eyes was suffocating, but addicting all the same. It made you feel self-conscious about your lack of clothing, but you were sure not even a parka wouldn’t make you feel any less vulnerable. The honesty in his eyes curled around you like smoke that you had no choice but to inhale and exhale right back to him. Flat-out lying to Jungkook has seldom been an option, especially about things like this, “Fine, when you woke up you were panicked and somehow made my hand slip and caused the needle I was working with to give me a little scratch.” You explained, eyes begging to avoid his again.

“That’s a big bandage for a little scratch.” He observed skeptically and you slipped your arms behind your back. He sighed, “I’m sorr–”

You shook your head. Much like actual birthday gifts, apologies had been foreign to you before Jungkook, and you didn’t like to nor know how to accept them, “I promise, it’s no deeper than a paper cut.” You looked up at him through your lashes, his expression now unreadable, which was somehow worse than the guilt.

He raised a brow, utterly unconvinced, “Let me see.” He wasn’t asking or pleading this time, but you didn’t have it in you to go against him.

You rolled your eyes, “Only because it’s about time to take it off anyway.” You huffed, only partially lying. It was time to let the wound air out a bit, but you both knew it wasn’t the only reason. You had spent most of your life taking in and thriving on the fear, guilt, and despair of others people. You loved the taste of the power you wielded, but nothing was more sour on your tongue than Jungkook’s dim mood. You turned around, peeling off the medical tape and walking to your counter as you heard your door close. Throwing the dressing in the trash, you looked at the wound with a nod before spinning to face the man approaching you, “See? It’s nothing.” You presented the thin line of scabs to him. He studied it, face still unreadable that was, until you flinched when his hand darted out to hold your wrist. The horror in his eyes made you feel physically ill as he went to withdraw, but you panicked and moved to hold his hand there, “Come on, you know it’s not because of you.” You reasoned, voice barely above a whisper. 

His jaw clenched, but he nodded solemnly. The question of who it was burned his tongue as he pressed his mouth closed. He’d seen more than enough of your episodes to know that you had plenty of reasons to flinch and he had to swallow the urge to find every single reason and end them with his bare hands. Horrible things happened to you, and he wasn’t sure if not knowing was worse than what would become of him if he ever found out. He diverted his gaze back to the scratch, and you wanted to ask him what he was doing until he leaned down. Your breathing ceased as you watched his lips brush lightly over the wound in the form of the softest kiss he’d ever given you, “There, all better.” His joking tone was strained with his smile when he stood straight again, but you appreciated the effort. 

His chest felt a bit lighter when you smiled softly, “What a hero.” You deadpanned. 

The reality was that Jungkook wanted to rip the door off its hinges, he was so pissed off at himself. Plus with that door gone, there’d be just a bit less between the two of you, and he needed to ignore why that sounded so sickeningly sweet. Regardless, he knew you hated moments like these, moments where the air was still but heavy with a million unspoken words between you two, so he felt compelled to throw out a light comment since he couldn’t outright comfort you that often, “I’ll be more careful, I promise. I’ve just been so…”

You nodded sympathetically, “Yeah, this week is pretty rough for me too.” You sighed, staring at the way his thumb absent-mindedly rubbed along your skin. The affection created a pit in your stomach that you couldn’t explain, but you promised yourself it was just how friends felt for each other sometimes.

“Hey, I think you’ve been doing pretty good lately.” He chided softly, and a mix of embarrassment and pride filled you at his words, “I haven’t slept with you in weeks now.” He pointed out, and the fake pout on his lips made you chuckle, mind still partially lost in the way his thumb stroked your arm.

You knew he was just trying to lighten the reminder of how your screams would wake him up some nights. On those nights, Jungkook would all but break down your door in an effort to sleep next to you. It was weird for you, even still, sleeping next to someone. It brought out feelings in you that you didn’t want to deal with, so you did your best to make Jungkook’s presence in your bedroom as rare as possible, “Miss me?” You asked sarcastically, still so lost in his ministrations. Affection is something you’d only ever gotten from the man in front of you, so it was hard to tell if it would feel this nice from anyone else. 

“All the time.” He responded quickly and with so much sincerity it made your chest seize for a moment. Jungkook cleared his throat, breaking his eye contact with you for just a moment, “I hope Namjoon wasn’t a dick to you.” He spoke, snapping you out of your trance with his touch as you retracted your arm, almost deluding yourself into thinking he tried to hold onto you for a split second. 

“He was just being protective of his baby.” You snickered at how Jungkook bristled with the term, “A protective dick, but I get it. I’m a total stranger–”

“Hey, you’re my best friend.” He chided, with a smile that was a bit less strained than before. 

You scoffed, “I’m your only friend.”

He shrugged with a more amused grin, “I said what I said.” 

You rolled your eyes, “Anyway did you only come to–” You were cut off by your phone buzzing on the table. 

Both you and Jungkook knitted your brows at this. It was degradingly rare for anyone other than him or work to call you, “You cheating on me?” He playfully asked and you pushed him by the shoulder before going to answer the call. 

You picked up the device cautiously, “It’s a random number.” You said lightly, but something felt wrong. “Don’t tell me I’m about to get a ton of prank calls because I pissed one of your boyfriends off?” You tried to joke as the phone finally went to voicemail.

Jungkook snorted at this, “Yeah, Joonie’s not the prank call type.”

“No way? He seemed like a real court jester.” You sarcastically said, making your friend laugh more. 

“A+ on the tone, B+ for the reference.” He chuckled, and you beamed at this. Jungkook spent the first two years of your friendship helping you grasp the ins and outs of day-to-day interactions, so it was nice to see how far you’ve come. “I haven’t heard the term ‘court jester’ so casually, like, ever, but it gets points for creativity.”

“You know me, I’m a real artist- ugh, again?” You looked down at your phone as it buzzed again with the same number. 

“Just answer, maybe it’s important.” He reasoned, and you nodded but the idea made you feel sick, “Oh, but put it on speaker I wanna hear if it is a prank call.” He grinned

Pushing the feeling of unease down, you rolled your eyes and answered, putting it on speaker, “Hello–”

“Y/n! Y-You gotta get me out of here, I’m–” Ice water flooded your veins as the man’s voice invaded your senses. Your eyes bulged once you fully realized Jungkook was standing right there, hearing this god-forsaken voice and you gasped before taking it off speaker. 

“Who is this?” You seethed, lying to everyone in the room. You’d know that whiny voice anywhere. Goosebumps sprouted along your arms and your stomach churned as your uncle's shaky breathing entered your mind, “How did you get my number?” You demanded quietly as you turned from Jungkook and put some distance between you both.

“Y/n, they found me and I’m–” He coughed and your eye twitched, pathetic.

“Lose my number.” You ordered, moving to hang up.

“I’ll tell them!” He shouted, making you pause. You didn’t even know who “they” were, but you certainly didn’t care to find out, “I’ll tell them who you are, where you are–”

“You don’t know that.” You called his bluff, but fear soaked into your rage, dampening its strengthening effects on your body. You could feel yourself getting smaller with each millisecond of silence that followed. 

“I have your number.” He challenged, and you scoffed. That was undoubtedly all he had. Jungyoon had never been built for the mind games, he was the muscle and nothing else, through and through.

“Won’t be mine for much longer, I promise.” You fumed quietly, and the whimper that leaked from him told you that was all the leverage he had, or at least you hoped so, “I’m not the one who was on national fucking TV just so I could watch a stupid fight, so you dug your grave. Don’t pass me the shovel.” 

“Wh-How can you even say that I’m–” He tried desperately.

“You must have the wrong number if you’re planning on finishing that sentence.” You forced out before hanging up. You let out a shaky breath before throwing your phone on the couch. 

Byungjoo was caught. If he was caught that meant you weren’t safe anymore. Were you ever really safe? Why did you stay in the country? What were you thinking? Did you seriously think Byungyeol would come back from you? Did you seriously stay in the same place he lost you like a child? And now what? You were dead, utterly dead–

No. You were safe. You had to be. You never went anywhere, and your face was never known by the public or that many people in the organization. You were smart, you had–

“Y/n, hey, hey.” Jungkook’s voice cut through the radio static that heightened the panic in your head. 

You looked at him, eyes wild but in a state he’s seen before, “I-It…” The words died in your throat as panic held you in a vice grip. Your nails dug into your palm, and the pain did nothing to satiate you as your knees buckled. Jungkook caught you before you could hit the ground, and you almost wished he hadn’t. You’d give anything to feel the pain radiating up your leg, the linoleum against your palms, anything to remind you that you were in your home and not wherever the hell the people who took Byungjoo planned to take you. You steadied yourself, the haze of panic subsiding momentarily, “I’m okay.” You lied, placing your hand on the couch so you could stand on your own.

“Who the hell was that and why–” You cut Jungkook off with a look, a look you’ve both used on each other, a look that begged him not to pry so you don’t have to lie to him, “I just… I’m worried.”

“Don’t be worried.” It came off as more of a plea than reassurance, and you cringed.

Jungkook wet his dry lips as he looked you over. You were talking, but you still had that look in your eyes that promised you wouldn’t be able to for much longer. His chest ached as he watched you try to crush the panic down and put on a brave face for him. More than anything, he wanted to cup your cheeks and promise you it was okay, and if it wasn’t, it will be. He wanted to fix it so badly, do anything to ensure that you weren’t about to break, so against his better judgment, he spoke, “I heard you say something about seeing him on TV, was it that guy from work–”

“Yes.” You said too quickly, and he tensed, “He’s… uh, just unhinged, and it just unsteadied me a bit.” You nodded, the fib burning your tongue, “I guess the principal saw him last night and he got in trouble…” You sighed, it was exhausting to do this, and you didn’t want to have to do this at all, “I don’t know it just…” You simply couldn’t do it. You couldn’t force any more lies out, you didn’t have it in you to do much other than clasp your hands over your ears and squeeze your eyes shut. 

Everything you’d built for yourself flashed in the blink of an eye. It wasn’t much, but it was yours. In an instant, it could be taken away, and there’s nothing you could really do about it. You weren’t nearly as lethal as you used to be, and judging by the little you’ve heard about the heads of Bangtan, you’re training would pale in comparison to their abilities. It took them no more than a year to dethrone your father, and you had no doubt it would take them no more than a second to end your life. Now, it was no longer a matter of if, but when they were going to catch up to you. 

—

Disgust infiltrated your sorrow as you watched Byunjoo smile lovingly while his wife, Minji, explained how your deaths would go with a little too much “pep in her step” as she would say to you when you were reporting the gruesome details of a job. She was disgusted with you for several reasons, but she was perfectly fine with your father, so it didn’t make sense when he directed just about everything you did. Nevertheless, you sat straight-faced as you heard the plan. Although you weren’t sure what she or your uncle was so proud of, the plan was quite simple. 

You were to burn it all. You were to watch the house you grew up in, the house where you took your first steps, said your first words, and had your first kill, crumble to smithereens with the empire you were supposed to inherit. Something, though, was missing. The list of names of the people who would live to watch the ash and smoke was noticeably… short.

“...Now we will have to get rid of everyone who knows your face, y/n-” Minji explained, that sickening smile on her hot pink lips but the disgust she held for you never left her eyes. You weren’t sure what you did to make her hate you so much, but you hardly cared now that you hated her just as fiercely.

“No.” You immediately spoke, and you could see your father stiffen in the corner of your eye, but you only broke your stare with your aunt when you heard Byungjoo sigh.

He and Minji were the only two that didn’t completely crumble under your unwavering stare, and it was times like these that it irritated you. Byungjoo was the right-hand man to your father, and he was a ruthless man. He loved nothing but money and his treacherous wife, even hated everything but money and his equally soulless wife. One exception, however, was your father, and he only claimed to love you because your father did.

“Y/n, it's for your safety.” Byungjoo explained as if you were a child, as if he spoke to you with any kind of decorum when you were a child, as if you were so easy to pacify when it came to the slaughter of the staff in this house that raised you.

“If you do it, I will throw myself into the fire,” You seethed and Byungjoo chuckled, assuming it was a joke. He always did that. Took your defiance of him as a silly comment or you being a rebellious teen, regardless of the fact that you were about to be 19 and never respected him enough to consider your disagreements rebellions, “I swear on the blood of my father, I will die with those people,” Byungjoo ceased his giggles immediately.

Your father, however, took your death threats seriously off the bat. Byungyeol was not stupid enough to take the little words you spoke as anything other than what you meant. He was the one who taught you not to waste your breath, after all. Truthfully, you weren’t sure if your death would make a difference, but there was that glint in your father’s eyes still that told you he just might care. His dying pride remained intact barely and you, his only child, were his only legacy, a legacy that needed to live on. 

Byungjoo may have been a bumbling idiot, but he could see the resolve in his brother's eyes. Minji had no such tact as she clicked her tongue in distaste, “Y/n-”

“Let it go.” Your father’s voice sounded, startling the couple silent while maintaining sharp eye contact with you, waiting for your gaze to waver even slightly. When you remained headstrong he sighed, “Make the list of who lives, y/n, and they will.” He spoke with a finality you’ve heard countless times before turning to your aunt and uncle, “End of discussion.”

—

You should’ve done it. You should’ve opted to burn. Regret pooled into your senses until it was all you could feel, until the only thing you could see was that beckoning flame, calling your name to come home. 

Just as you could feel the sting of tears behind your lids, you felt him. Two hands slid over yours and rhythmic tapping reverberated throughout your skull from above your ear. You slowly opened your eyes, and Jungkook occupied your line of sight. He did you the grace of looking away. You weren’t sure if it was because of the shameful sight in front of you or if it was because he knew you were embarrassed, but you liked to pretend it was the latter. 

1, 2, 3, 4 

Jungkook swallowed thickly as he listened for your breathing to stabilize. He looked above your head at the clock on the wall and sighed. He was going to be late for his meeting with his team on digging up the whereabouts of the most coveted target. He could easily walk away, but he stayed rooted in his spot, tapping in quartets as he waited patiently for you to calm down. Though he didn’t understand your affinity for the number, and you never disclosed it to him, he was thankful to be observant enough to notice it at times like these. So he watched the seconds tick by as he tapped, pausing for a few seconds in between each grouping, because the thought of leaving you alone like this felt like it would kill him. He already has a hard time sleeping knowing you’re just a few steps away, there’s no way he’d be able to work knowing you were in the throes of an episode. Finally, your breathing was becoming consistently normal until–

“No.” You whispered with something utterly sick to his ears laced in the word. It was fear. You were scared, and he had no idea why. Never in your years of friendship had he seen you truly afraid like this. He looked at you, boundaries be damned, and saw you were fixated on the TV.

Turning his head to see what it was, his entire body froze.

You had left the news on, and on it, Namjoon stared back at you as he conducted a press conference… as head of Bangtan Corporation. It was like your world ceased turning. The pressurized cracks on your life here gave in the moment you looked to Jungkook and realized he saw what frightened you, and you could see the wheels turning on why it could be. No poker faces could be had between you as despair reflected in both of your pupils. You were terrified to discover one of his boyfriends was the head, or at least one of the heads of Bangtan, and he was devastated to find out you knew enough to be afraid. 

It was over, for both of you.

----------------------------------------------------------

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Masterlist

#bts mafia au #bts fanfic #bts series #bts poly au #ot7 x reader #yandere bts #yandere bts x reader #bts x reader #mafia bts #yandere mafia bts

[khalixascorner]

Penance

Summary: Becoming Superior had muted Tony Stark's emotions and his ability to sense his soul mate. Getting bit by a spider had amplified Peter's. When they meet for the first time, Peter loses control, lost to the primal need to bond. After force bonding himself to Tony, Peter is distraught and offers himself up for whatever punishment Tony deems fit. Tony puts this to the test before deciding to keep his little spider, even if they had a rough start.

Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Peter Parker, Omega Tony Stark, SIM Tony Stark, Dark Tony Stark, Scent Drunk Peter Parker, Soul Bond, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Forced Bonding, Making the Best of It, Honor Bondage, Verbal Bondage, lots of smut, First two chapters are darkest then it gets a bit fluffier, Sounding, top omega, face fucking, Lots of Sex, Aged-Up Peter Parker Age Difference

Read on AO3 here

Peter tried not to pace as he compulsively checked his desk and notes one last time. Today was his first official inspection since starting at Stark Industries, and he was terrified that he was going to fuck up and get fired. The Superior did not tolerate failure or stupidity in his company, especially not in his R&D labs. Other techs told horror stories and HR even made sure new hires didn’t start right before an inspection to try and cut down the turnover rates.

“Hey dude, chill,” Miles, one of the other lab assistants, hissed at him. “I know they’ve been telling stories but seriously, just be cool and you’ll be fine.”

Peter swallowed hard and nodded. He kept his hands firmly at his side, not trusting his ability to keep his strength hidden. Or heaven forbid he touch something and stick like he had done when he first got his powers.

Peter knew it was probably overly bold to work by day for the man that controlled the city with a gold titanium alloy fist when he spent his nights as a vigilante, but he also needed to eat, and SI was the place to work. If Peter was honest, pretty much any legitimate job in the city answered back to the Superior in one way or the other anyway, and at least this paid well. Plus, Spider-man was small time. He just helped the little guy and tried to stay out of the Legion’s way. And he definitely didn’t let the Avengers pull him into their nonsense. They wanted to overthrow the Superior, but Peter had seen the old news stories, had seen the statistics from back then. Life under the Superior was better for everyone. Kids didn’t go hungry, everyone had places to live, and anyone could get a good education.

Peter was someone who would have struggled before the Superior. His parents had died and his aunt and uncle didn’t make enough to care for him without stressing their finances. The Superior’s programs let them pull enough help to cover all of his needs and attend prestigious schools based on his merits alone. So the one time the Avengers tried to recruit Spider-man to their cause, he gave them a very clear no.

If he was honest with himself, Peter dreamed of revealing himself to the Superior. Maybe the man would even be impressed by his deeds, as the Superior always said he had overthrown the government to help the people that it no longer served. Surely he would appreciate that Peter just wanted to do the same, minus overthrowing a government.

But maybe that was naive, Peter thought as he eyed the door again. Would a man that had a reputation for throwing out people he found incompetent really be ok with a newbie hero? Either way, Peter’s plan was to work for him, get a feel for things, and then decide later.

His thoughts were interrupted as the door finally opened and the Superior entered. Peter’s focus zeroed in on the older man, his enhanced sight taking in as much as he could. Peter’s heart pounded, the sound of blood rushing filling his ears. He caught just a hint of a scent, something rich and warm, like a honey vanilla tea and a fire on a winter’s night and something that was just more.

Peter’s whole body trembled, something inside pulling tighter and tighter as the Superior started greeting the Lab Heads. Then he looked towards Peter, and their eyes met. Heat and something sharper shot through Peter, and the last coherent thought he had was MINE.

--------------

Tony had seen a lot of behavior from newbies over the years. His reputation was a bit inflated but it worked for him, and kept the idiots in line until they either pulled their heads out of their asses or got fired. He didn’t expect perfection, but there were still certain levels of excellence he wanted. Regardless, it has caused a fair amount interesting situations when new employees would meet him.

From stuttering, crying, or general muteness, Tony thought he had seen it all. The young alpha practically vibrating while staring at him looking shell shocked though? That was a bit new. When Tony let their eyes meet, something warm bloomed in his chest, but he didn’t have time to examine the feeling because the alpha snapped.

Tony barely had time to react as the alpha rushed him faster than Tony had ever seen an unenhanced move. He braced as the alpha threw himself into Tony’s arms, face immediately going for Tony’s neck with a whining sound.

The omega growled and tried to push the alpha off but was startled when the alpha didn’t budge.

“Get off me,” Tony growled again, trying to regain control of the situation, but the alpha was completely lost to reason. As Tony took a breath to order his AI’s to do something, he caught the kid’s scent. It smelled like coffee and petrichor and something warm that defied labeling. He also smelled like rut.

Tony swore and opened his mouth to call for help only to have the wind knocked out of him as he was spun around and shoved up against the nearest lab bench. Before he could react, his pants were torn off of him violently.

“Get your fucking hands off me,” Tony spluttered, his ire finally overcoming his shock. He was the Superior, and he was damned if he would be treated this way. Endosym bled from his body, and tentacles formed, reaching back towards the alpha only to be grabbed and pinned down to the table next to Tony by a single hand.

Tony heard more fabric tear behind him, and another growl rumbled out.

“Kid, if you put that knot in me, I swear I will rip that dick of yours off and feed it to you, you little shit,” Tony threatened, his armor liquifying and instead wrapping itself along the kid’s arm in an attempt to get an anchor.

All thoughts of stopping the situation vanished as the alpha thrust into him in a single movement and then bit at his mating gland. Instantly, Tony went limp, a whine slipping from his lips as his body submitted and accepted the alpha. Distantly, Tony was horrified. In all of his life he had never whined or whimpered for any alpha.

---------------

Peter came back to himself when he heard a whine beneath him. The alpha gave a muffled groaned at the tightness around his aching cock and the taste on his tongue. He realized his mouth was still latched firmly on the omega’s mating gland, and he groaned again, his hips picking up speed as his omega grew slick in response to the pheromones they were both letting out.

Peter released the gland and pulled back enough to readjust his hold on the omega’s hips, his mind focused on breeding his mate properly.

“Fuck, such a good ‘mega,” Peter growled. “My ‘mega, gonna breed you up so good, stuff you full of my knot.”

The omega arched beneath him, pressing back against him. Peter snuck one hand beneath the other man, and began fondling the thick cocklet until he felt the omega’s body tighten around him. It pushed him over the edge, and he buried himself deep inside the omega as he felt his knot inflate.

A warm rumble built in his chest and he nuzzled his mate. He had never felt so content or whole as he did in that moment, buried deep in his omega.

Peter was jerked from his post sex high by a sour smell. His eyes shot up and he realized that all of the lab’s staff were still there, staring at them. A few had even stuck their hands into their pants and were not so discreetly getting themselves off. That had Peter growling as he grabbed the nearest loose item to throw at the intruders.

“Get out before I break you in half,” he growled darkly. Everyone stared at him, frozen in shock, so Peter growled again. “NOW.”

That sent them running, and he huffed, burying his face back in his mate’s neck, drunk on the scent of home and the warm feeling in his chest. It made his hips jerk even though they were locked tight, wanting to somehow get even closer to the omega.

He couldn’t stop nibbling all over the omega’s neck, nuzzling and licking to soothe the little bites he made. His hands wandered, rubbing soothingly anytime they felt tense muscles underneath them, and soon his omega was relaxed beneath him.

Finally, his knot softened and he slipped out of the omega with a groan.

It was then that Peter’s brain finally came back online.

His emotions ran the gamut from startled confusion to horrified guilt as he realized that the omega he was cuddling was Mr. Stark.

-----------------

“Oh god, what did I do?” the alpha croaked, stumbling away from Tony. “Oh god, Mr. Stark, I-”

“Zip it, kid,” Tony interrupted, too irritated to deal with the alpha’s empty apologies as his heat kicked into high gear. “I’m going into heat now and since you are the reason why, you’re going to take care of it, understand?”

The kid nodded and Tony scoffed at the wide eyed look he was getting.

“Let’s go, kid, chop chop, heat waits for no one,” Tony called, storming off towards the elevators. If he was lucky, they could get to the penthouse and get the supplies ready before the worst of it hit.

#khalixa writes #starker #nff #tony stark/peter parker #omegaverse #alpha peter #omega tony stark #tw noncon #tw dubcon #mind the tags #like seriously people #don't say I didn't warn you #sfsummerbingo22

[phoenixyfriend]

Quinlan and the Interdimensional Ingenues (except not really)

Context: SW Suddenly Omegaverse AU (Original Post), Interior Design (Nesting Divots), Chrono Rating: T+ Relationships: Anakin & Obi-Wan, Quinlan/Obi-Wan

This is like 90% cuddles and scenting that’s a few steps to the side of a/b/o standard. There is a lot of non-sexual licking. It’s a little odd, but I’m assuming that’s what you’re here for. It’s also over 5k words, so, you know. There’s that.

Note: “Ternary” is to the number three as “binary” is to the number two. Binary gender/sex refers to IRL male/female distinctions, and ternary refers to alpha/beta/omega. Gender and sex are much more complicated than is touched on in this particular fic, and trans identities exist within both the binary system and the ternary system. (More notes at end.)

-----

“Sorry to tell you this,” Quinlan says, sliding into the room as quickly as he can, “but we can smell omega distress from several rooms down the hall. What the hell is going on?”

“We’ve having a lot of feelings,” Kenobi says drily. He’s on the couch, looking damnably normal, and Skywalker’s got his face shoved into his master’s neck. Kenobi’s fingers card through the curls, and it’s... well, it would be easy to tell which of them was having said feelings even if Quinlan hadn’t already been able to tell them apart in scent.

“I’m distraught,” Skywalker moans, mushing himself somehow closer.

Kenobi’s eyes go to the ceiling, and he visibly prays to the Force for patience. “I know, Anakin.”

“You think I’m being dumb.”

“I think you’ve had a few months to prepare for this, but that your reaction is understandable nevertheless,” Kenobi says carefully. “Quinlan, would you like to take a seat?”

He hops the back of an armchair in a way that earns him a long-suffering, fond sigh. Quinlan grins encouragingly. “So, do I get to know what this is about?”

“I’m having trouble keeping it out of the Force, but at least I can do that,” Skywalker mutters. He does not lift his head. “I can’t control the scent stuff.”

“Yeah,” Quinlan says, because he’s not sure what else to say. “Do you want me to go get Tano? Might make you feel better.”

Skywalker just whines, high and pained, and tries to curl impossibly closer to Kenobi.

“Anakin,” Kenobi tries. “Anakin, do you want me to explain?”

“I want my--” Skywalker cuts himself off with a choking noise, and then keens. It’s a very omega noise, in the sense that his vocal cords can make it, and non-omegas have trouble mimicking it, and it makes Quinlan want to go over and do his best to fix things in whatever way he can.

(This, everyone is finding, is the truly awkward element to having Skywalker and Kenobi around. They don’t have any experience with controlling their ternary sex instincts, and it makes everyone else react poorly when they do, well, almost anything. They can’t be blamed, considering exactly how inconvenient this is for them, as well, but it’s not a great time for anyone.)

Quinlan tries to keep his own scent pleasant and calm, as soothing as he can make it through the blockers. He doesn’t think it works. “Your what?”

“His wife,” Kenobi says. “Because apparently that was the other way he broke the Code.”

“I looked her up,” Skywalker moans, dramatic as anyone. “She’s already mated and married, in this timeline. To that artist. She’s totally happy and she’s never met me and I’m never gonna be able to work with or around her because I won’t be able to act normal about it and I miss her.”

‘A lot of feelings‘ Kenobi mouths at Quinlan over Skywalker’s head.

“Well, at least it explains the position you’re in,” Quinlan tries to joke. The blank look he gets from Kenobi tells him clearly that the joke didn’t land. “Uh, scenting at the neck like that.”

“Inappropriate?” Kenobi hazards a guess. He doesn’t pull Skywalker away.

“Sort of,” Quinlan says. “You’re family, or as good as, so between that and the need for comfort, nobody’s really going to judge you for it, especially given your backgrounds, but that kind of prolonged neck-scenting for comfort is something kids outgrow in pre-adolescence. It’s only really used for either comfort for extreme emotions, like this, or, uh, between lovers. Post-coital, or during foreplay before, you know, mouths get involved.”

Kenobi grimaces. “Lovely. And what do you mean by ‘of our backgrounds’ in this case? That we have less control, or another factor?”

He doesn’t sound offended. Quinlan appreciates that. “You didn’t have ten years to get that comfort. It’s like... touch starvation, but for scenting. Anyone who knows what’s going on with you, even in the vague sense that doesn’t involve dimensional travel, is going to give you leeway on scenting because you didn’t have that, growing up.”

Kenobi’s grimace doesn’t go away until Skywalker’s breath hitches, hand curling in his master’s robes. “Anakin?”

“I don’t like feeling like this,” Skywalker mutters. “It sucks.”

“I know.”

“And we can’t delay the war much longer, and she was one of the only reasons I stayed even kinda sane through it.”

“I know, Anakin,” Kenobi sighs, running a hand through Skywalker’s hair and, awkwardly as anything, pressing a small kiss to the young man’s forehead. “You’ll have other ways to de-stress this time around. Maybe you’ll actually attend your meditative retreats.”

Skywalker huffs out a breath, in a laugh wet with what might be burgeoning tears. “Shut up.”

“I think you’ve known me far too long to think I’ll ever run out of words,” Kenobi says. He meets Quinlan’s eyes again, but before either of them can communicate about whether Quinlan should leave, Skywalker lurches to his feet, muttering something about a shower.

He’s gone before Kenobi can get more than two words out, and the man is left looking ruffled and confused by his former padawan’s sudden departure. He stays watching the door, and slowly wilts in a way that doesn’t speak well for his state of mind. The man sighs and drops his head into his hands, cradling it with his elbows on his knees, and whatever calm he’d had fades into pure stress, the air curdling with the smell of it.

Quinlan waits, unsure of how to handle this; Kenobi’s Quinlan Vos probably would have known how to deal with the change.

“What am I doing?” Kenobi breathes out, the words almost inaudible from behind his hands.

There are a few moments for Quinlan to consider the many complications and ramifications of getting involved, and then he decides to do so anyway. He stands up and steps around the caff table, and sits down next to Kenobi. He wraps an arm around the man’s shoulders, and brings him in close.

“You don’t have to do this,” Kenobi says, though he makes no move to pull away. “I know you don’t... this is just an obligation. The Council assigned you to gather information and keep an eye out for us in terms of the whole omega thing, since you already shared my heat, and... I know I’m not a friend to you. You barely know me, and the fact that you have to look out for me is something that truly grates. Such care shouldn’t...”

Quinlan waits for him to finish, but he doesn’t.

“I won’t say that they didn’t give me that assignment, because that would be a lie and you’d know it,” Quinlan says. “But I do want to be friends with you. We’re sort of there, already, even if that’s mostly you knowing my other self, and my psychometry, but I’ve seen what a friendship with you could be like, in what you let me see. We’ll never have that same dynamic, because I didn’t grow up with you, and the ternary sex adds an element that changes things, but I do want to be your friend.”

He hesitates, unsure if the rest will make things worse or better, but says it anyway. “As for taking care of you, looking out for you... I do feel a need to do that on an instinctual level, yes, but I can ignore it. It’s an instinct, but one that I, like everyone else that’s grown up as a human or near human in this galaxy, can work around. I am doing more than the minimum the Council requested, and it’s because I do actually like you as a person, and want to know you better.”

Kenobi’s head is resting on his shoulder by this point, tired and heavy, and Quinlan reaches up to brush his knuckles against the beard without looking. His blockers are still keeping his scent down, but the contact seems to make Kenobi relax more. His hands are mostly laced together, and falling into the dip between their legs.

“There’s a way I can help, but it’s, ah... not inherently sexual in nature, but generally only done by those whose relationship is already some degree of sexual,” Quinlan tells him. “To make you feel better, less stressed.”

“I’m assuming you’re not suggesting an orgasm,” Kenobi mutters, dry as anything. He laughs when Quinlan puts a hand on his knee.

“Not exactly feeling it,” Quinlan agrees. He squeezes Kenobi’s knee, and then says, “No, it’s mostly scenting in a way that’s usually only done by lovers; it’s more effective, but very intimate in a way many find uncomfortably sexual, because the amount of tongue involved is very reminiscent of foreplay.”

Kenobi laughs, a little harder, and nuzzles a little. He doesn’t seem aware of the fact that he’s doing it. “Alright, then.”

“I’d also suggest moving to one of the nests,” Quinlan says, and Kenobi immediately freezes. He gives it a moment, and then says, “I know you found it helpful after your heat, Kenobi. The nesting instinct is human here. It’s not shameful. There are people who don’t get anything out of it, but I’ve seen you nesting, and it’s good for you.”

Kenobi shudders and Quinlan thinks he might be fighting down a whine. “It’s a change, Quin. I mean, Quinlan. It’s... it’s just another thing out of many that’s different.”

“And one of the few you have control over?” Quinlan guesses. He tries to purr for support when Kenobi nods against his shoulder, and he thinks the deep rumble is soothing to Kenobi. “I get that.”

“Don’t stop,” Kenobi mutters, and Quinlan can guess he’s blushing about it.

“Into the nest,” Quinlan mutters. “It’ll help convince Skywalker to use it, and he really needs that kind of comfort.”

That’s the line of logic that actually works, and Quinlan isn’t the least bit surprised.

“Fine,” Kenobi sighs, and gets to his feet before Quinlan can offer to carry him or something similarly joking. The man walks to the communal nest at the edge of the room, and then looks down into the barely-used mess of blankets and pillows in the floor divot like he doesn’t even know how to get in.

Quinlan thinks there might be dust, even.

Fine. He can work with that. He’s taken this duo on as a project of his own free will, and he’s damn well going to follow through.

“Want to rearrange it?” he asks, in hopes that he can prompt Kenobi into figuring out what’s wrong.

“I don’t... know,” Kenobi says, frowning in a way that’s more worried and uncomfortable than angry. “I don’t know what’s wrong.”

Quinlan considers it, thinks of how the dust means nobody’s been here, that there’s not even a hint of scent, and then turns and grabs the throw pillows and thick, woven blanket from the couch.

“Wait,” Kenobi protests. “They don’t--”

“We can put them back later,” Quinlan assures him. He holds them out to Kenobi. “Trust me? I may not be an omega, but I do know enough of the theory.”

Kenobi takes the pillows and the blanket, stares down at them and then at the nest, and steps out of his slippers and into the nest. The layer already there is thin, and likely not doing much for anyone, but it’s the bare minimum and Quinlan can work with that.

He turns and scouts the room for spare fabrics, grabs all three of the outer robes from where they hang by the door, and the recently-used dishtowel that only barely carries Skywalker’s scent, and brings them to Kenobi.

“The robes aren’t clean!” Kenobi protests.

“I could grab something from your room instead,” Quinlan says. “Or you could just leave the hems on the outside. But you need more fabric that actually smells like someone.”

Quinlan wonders, idly, if Kenobi would have this kind of reaction to the suggestion without omega instincts at play, or if it’s just the instincts and he doesn’t realize, or maybe that he’s decided to let the instincts happen since Quinlan’s pushed him into nesting already anyway. The man had insisted in perfectly pressing his robes from the beginning, long before their bodies had had a chance to change, and Skywalker had found it normal, so it’s probably, at least a little, just the man’s personality. It probably doesn’t matter, overall, because all Quinlan has to do is sit at the edge of the nest until Kenobi--the person who actually lives here--is done arranging things.

Quinlan takes off another two layers and offers them, noting out loud that he can get them back later when Skywalker can fill in the gaps or something before too many protests can be voiced. Kenobi hesitantly takes them and tucks them in among his own additional layers. Quinlan’s seen enough communal nests to know that most of the placements are odd and not going to work out long-term, but that’s not the point right now. The point is getting Kenobi to recognize the his body, and more importantly, his mental health, rely at least somewhat on nesting now.

“Are you going to come in?” Kenobi asks, belatedly realizing Quinlan’s still outside the lip of the flooring divot.

“Not without permission,” Quinlan says, and sees the realization flicker in.

Kenobi holds out a hand, silent, and Quinlan lets himself get tugged in among the half-stale, half-new nest. It’s not great, but that’ll come with practice. He tucks himself around Kenobi, and rubs at the man’s arms in an attempt to ease some of the tension that’s clinging to every line of his body.

“What now?” Kenobi asks, just a shade more quiet than Quinlan thinks is really required by the situation.

“A lot of the stress you’re feeling is a feedback loop from being covered in your own distress scent,” Quinlan says. “You can shower to handle that, which is what Skywalker is doing, or you can manually remove it.”

“I’d imagine a wet towel,” Kenobi says, a touch wry, “but given that you mentioned tongue earlier, I’m guessing you intend to lick it away?”

“It’s more effective,” Quinlan admits. “Not at removing the scent, necessarily, but it removes enough to help while also generating comfort and relaxation hormones from the close contact, and being scented by a trusted individual.”

“Makes sense,” Kenobi admits. “You, ah, use scent blockers usually, right? Can you, er, scent me?”

Quinlan can see just how much Kenobi dislikes using the words. He tries to keep it quick. “I use a cream blocker over my scent glands, namely at the neck and wrists, since the rest are covered in fabric. It’s... well, it can be wiped off, or also removed orally. Most manually-applied blockers are formulated to be safe for contact with the mouth or genitals. Only really gets to be a problem if there are rare allergies or with specific species. It doesn’t taste like anything, if that matters.”

Kenobi’s discomfort is almost palpable, but Quinlan lets him work through that. This isn’t really something he can make a choice for Kenobi about, and the discomfort is... well, it’s not really the kind of discomfort usually associated with ternary sex and associated behaviors. Everything’s just very new, and comes with changes to the body that Kenobi never agreed to.

“Right,” Kenobi says. “I want to... to at least try it, I think.”

He turns and blushes, eyes anywhere by Quinlan’s face. “I don’t know how much longer Anakin will be. I’d rather he not think we’re, er...”

“Then I’ll take care of that part fast,” Quinlan promises, and is rewarded by Kenobi offering a wrist.

It’s... not sexual. Quinlan knows he has a hard time explaining this to near-humans that don’t have the scent glands, that don’t have the ternary dynamics. He’s had a similarly hard time explaining it to Kenobi and Skywalker. It’s not sexual, just intimate, when he pulls Kenobi’s wrist to his face, closes his eyes, and breathes in the scent of a distressed, uncomfortable, bitter omega that he’s shared a heat with and knows as almost-friend. The smell, this close and this strong, triggers the production of pheromones of his own, and when he feels Kenobi tentatively start pressing kisses to Quinlan’s own wrist, he relaxes. He brushes his lips against Kenobi’s wrist, and then puts his open mouth to it, the slightest press of teeth and his tongue laving across the skin. He hears Kenobi’s gasp, an almost-yelp, and pulls away long enough to press a kiss the the veins under his lips, and to say, “Relax, Kenobi.”

He forces a purr out, low and rumbling, and feels it work on Kenobi just like it did earlier. There’s a tongue pulling, a little dry, to rub away the blocker on the inside of his wrist, and he turns his attention back to Kenobi’s. The scent is even stronger on his tongue, bitter and unhappy, and his body continues to produce calm and comfort as he pulls away the uglier feelings painted on Kenobi’s skin.

More pheromones leak under his mouth, but less bitter. Less intense. He does what he can, opens his eyes and turns and sees that Kenobi is unduly focused on his wrist, mouthing and not quite purring, but oddly fuzzy in the Force. His eyes are closed, but Quinlan’s pretty sure they’d be glazed if not.

“Kenobi?”

“Hm?”

“Guess you haven’t encountered this outside of a heat before,” Quinlan mutters. He shakes his arm a bit, and puts his other hand on Kenobi’s shoulder. “Kenobi, hey, look at me?”

Kenobi pulls away, blinking, and then makes a face. “That...”

“Didn’t like losing control?” Quinlan guesses. The answer is clear enough. “It’s a matter of practice, especially for you.”

“Why did I... it smelled and tasted like... like I was safe,” Kenobi mutters lowly, eyes on the nest instead of on Quinlan. “I’ve never associated any sense with safety other than the Force.”

“You trust me,” Quinlan says, as if that’s not a little terrifying in its own way. He already knew that Kenobi trusted him, but he thinks that this strong of a reaction might make him Kenobi’s most trusted person after Skywalker and maybe Tano. “And since you trust me, your body subconsciously takes cues from mine, when it comes to pheromones. I project comfort and safety, and your body takes it as... not fact, but affirmation.”

“So I won’t react to anyone like this,” Kenobi says, not quite begging for Quinlan to confirm, but close to it. “Just you, and... does that same logic apply to those who aren’t Alpha designation?”

“Yeah,” Quinlan says. “Not in the same way, but familiarity and trust does affect which pheromones affect you, and how strongly. Children are largely unresponsive to aggression pheromones from their parents, by default, since their minds process it as aggression in defense of them, rather than aggression at them.”

Kenobi purses his lips, but nods and looks at Quinlan’s other wrist. “Moving on?”

“If you’re okay with it,” Quinlan says, but he brings his cleaned wrist to Kenobi’s and rubs them together until his own comfort scent is covering up what’s left of the distress. “Take a smell at that and see how you feel.”

Kenobi eyes him warily--he’s pretty sure he hasn’t done anything to deserve that, but allows it because, well, Kenobi--and sniffs at his own wrist. His brow furrows in confusion, and he sniffs again.

“Good?” Quinlan hazards.

“I... yeah,” Kenobi says. He sounds as confused as he looks. “I like it. It’s... the safe thing, again, but mixing with me?”

“That’s how it’s supposed to feel,” Quinlan assures him. “Other wrist?”

If he were actually the friend that Kenobi had grown up with, if he’d actually had a Kenobi to grow up with, he thinks he might have thrown in a few joking pet names by now.

But he’s not, and they didn’t, so he won’t.

He thinks he hears Skywalker finish up in the shower, but Kenobi pulls his mouth to the neck, and mutters that they have some time while Skywalker does something to his hair. Apparently, there are products needed for those curls.

The angle’s going to be a little uncomfortable if they try to get at each other’s scent glands simultaneously, so Quinlan suggests that Kenobi handle getting the blocker off first.

“Why?”

“More convenient,” Quinlan says, and then clasps Kenobi’s hands so their wrists rub together. He squeezes, just a little, a touch of reassurance, and smiles and tilts his head. “All yours, Kenobi.”

The man smiles, brittle, and almost giggles. Maybe Quinlan was doing something oddly similar to his counterpart from Kenobi’s dimension. Maybe it was an inside joke he didn’t know. It doesn’t matter, because Kenobi’s leaning in and mouthing along Quinlan’s neck and throat like a man possessed a half-second later.

Quinlan closes his eyes and threads a hand into Kenobi’s hair, focuses on warmth and comfort and protection, rather than anything aroused. Kenobi slows down, lapping at Quinlan’s neck and inhaling, and in the Force he radiates confusion.

“That’s it,” Quinlan mutters, and Kenobi makes a low chirruping noise that he immediately stifles with an annoyed huff. “Hey, no, those are normal. You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

“I want control over my own body, Quin,” Kenobi mutters, and switches to the other side. He rubs his face against Quinlan’s neck, and it’s another point on the list of things Kenobi does that he might not realize are based in newer instincts. “I don’t like something being wrong with me, and not understanding what it is.”

“Nothing is wrong with you,” Quinlan mutters, using the hand in Kenobi’s hair to guide him into actually removing the scent blocker instead of donating a case of beard burn. “Even going as fast as you did just now wasn’t something wrong. Your instincts got a bit confused, that’s all. You’re fine.”

He purrs until Kenobi is done, and gets that chirruping noise again. Kenobi’s still annoyed about it, but Quinlan’s just happy he’s getting less uncomfortable about it.

“Okay, sit up and turn around,” Quinlan says, and Kenobi eyes him again. “Have I steered you wrong yet?”

“No.”

“So trust me,” Quinlan urges. “Just turn around.”

Kenobi does. Quinlan sits up and rearranges his legs so there’s one on either side of Kenobi, half-bent. He pulls the other man closer, blankets folding oddly beneath them, and wraps his arms around Kenobi’s waist.

He breathes for a moment, chin hooked over Kenobi’s shoulder, and asks, “Good?”

“Oddly so, yes,” Kenobi mutters. He might be blushing. “Er, should I... do anything?”

“Hands on mine, if you’d like,” Quinlan tells him. “We can lie back down and spoon after I clean up your left.”

The noise Kenobi makes is low, affronted in a way that speaks to his ongoing embarrassment. Quinlan ignores it, just gets to work taking away as much of Kenobi’s stress scent as he can, mouthing along the man’s neck and managing a purr that isn’t even forced. It rumbles out of him unprompted, his hindbrain piecing together the relaxing omega in his lap and the safety of the Temple and the pride he’s got in doing this right, the knowledge that Kenobi’s happier than he was an hour ago and it’s all Quinlan’s doing.

He rubs his face along Kenobi’s neck as he finishes up, scenting and being scented back, and is gratified when Kenobi starts purring too. The nuzzling is mostly soft, though Quinlan’s stubble is nothing to Kenobi’s beard; the hairs trap Quinlan’s scent where it’ll do the most good. He follows a hint of mischievous intent and tugs at Kenobi’s earlobe with his teeth, earning himself a little whine. He laughs, and licks the curve of Kenobi’s ear, immediately scenting further.

“Anakin’s going to be back soon,” Kenobi says, sounding almost sleep drunk.

Quinlan switches sides and guides them both down to lie, chest to front, in the nest. He works more slowly on the other side, keeps himself  propped up on his elbow, forearm slipped neatly under Kenobi’s neck. The scent gland at Quinlan’s wrist rests under Kenobi’s nose, right where it’ll have the most effect. His other hand rubs up and down Kenobi’s side, and by the time Skywalker reenters the room, Quinlan’s done with licking the stress off and rubbing his scent into anything he thinks will help. He’s lying fully on his side instead of having his head propped up, and just doing his best to spread comfort through the room through Force and smell. He maybe nibbles at the back of Kenobi’s neck, here and there, because the man has lothcat response, and

“Guys?”

“Over here, Skywalker.”

The kid--not really a kid, but younger than Aayla, still, so he counts--rounds the couch, and sees them among the added cloaks and pillows and blanket. He stares. Kenobi starts to stiffen back up.

Quinlan increases his purring, and rubs his face against Kenobi’s neck, and glares up at Skywalker for good measure. Kenobi can’t see past Quinlan, probably, and squirms. Skywalker tilts his head, and then puts up a finger in a ‘one moment’ sort of gesture. He runs off.

“Anakin--”

“Kid’s fine,” Quinlan assures him, and Skywalker skids back into the room at unsafe speeds, arms full of what Quinlan’s pretty sure are his own duvet and pillow, and falls face-first into the nest. Kenobi jerks back into Quinlan, but Skywalker ignores this in favor of rearranging the nest into something approaching functional. He’s better at it than Kenobi.

Quinlan’s pretty sure Skywalker was more open to these things from the start. It tracks.

“Now Anakin, really,” Kenobi sputters, as Skywalker finishes layering things in the way he thinks is best. Skywalker beams at him, earlier melancholy forgotten for the moment, and flops down to drop his head somewhere near Kenobi’s chest.

“You haven’t been sleeping,” Skywalker says. “This is good for you.”

Kenobi blushes, and Quinlan scrapes his teeth against the back of his neck again.

“Quinlan!” Kenobi yelps, jolting. “Not--we’re not alone!”

“Helps you calm down, though,” Quinlan says, pressing a few close-mouthed kisses at Kenobi’s hairline.

“Different cultural standards,” Skywalker adds, half-guessing but sure of himself nonetheless. He seems entirely too delighted to be here. “You know what? We should invite Ahsoka.”

“She’s not your padawan here,” Kenobi scolds.

“Yet,” Skywalker corrects. “As soon as I get all my psych evals cleared, the Council’s going to promise. She’s basically my padawan already.”

Kenobi sighs, aggrieved in a manner that feels more fond than actually upset, in the Force, and places a hand lightly on Skywalker’s.

Skywalker chirrups and wriggles closer, pressing his face to Kenobi’s tunic with a smile.

“I see someone’s feeling better,” Kenobi notes, and moves his hand up to play with Skywalker’s hair. “The shower helped?”

“Mm-hm,” Skywalker says. “’nd some of the stuff they made me learn in therapy.”

Kenobi hums low in his throat, an aimless vocalization, as he continues to comb his fingers through Skywalker’s hair.

Skywalker blinks, slow and bleary, with a soft and dopey smile, and Kenobi stops.

“What?”

“I like it when you play with my hair,” Skywalker says, almost too low to hear. His eyes close. “Feels nice. Cared for. Family.”

Kenobi freezes, breath hitching, and Quinlan shifts and lifts just enough to see the man is staring at his own hand in confusion and a slight bit of fear.

“Kenobi?”

“I didn’t even question it,” Kenobi says faintly. “I don’t... I haven’t done that since he was just a child, but I didn’t even question it. I stopped myself from commenting that he’s too old to come to his master for cuddles, because he’s not, in this dimension, and I’m getting used to that, but I started playing with his hair like it was normal and it’s not.”

Quinlan puts his mouth to Kenobi’s trapezius, just enough pressure that he’s not biting, just there, and purrs.

It’s several inches away from anything resembling a mating bite, but Kenobi tilts his head and whines anyway.

“Obi-Wan?” Skywalker prompts, brow furrowed. “It’s not... I mean, I’m not going to say it’s okay, since I know we’re both still upset about our bodies being changed without our permission or input or even a warning, but we’re getting used to it. We’re working with it. The hair thing is fine with me, I like it and would have before. And now that you know you’ll want to do, uh, that sort of thing--”

“Subset of grooming behaviors,” Quinlan tells them, pulling away from Kenobi’s neck with a final open-mouthed kiss. He sees the face Skywalker makes in response to the words, and feels Kenobi’s discomfort, so he elaborates. They’ve compared most of what they hear with tookas and lothwolves, so he thinks he knows what this is about. “We’re not exactly going to start licking each other clean--excluding scent comfort, that’s different--like lothcats, but you’ve already noticed that humans and near-humans are more tactile than you’re used to. Most forms of care, especially of partners and children, ends up physical in some way.”

He gestures between the two of them. “You view Skywalker as family, for all that you shy away from defining it, and so naturally gravitate to care. The easiest way for that to manifest when sharing a nest is usually playing with someone’s hair. Since he’s younger than you, and you’ve spent as much time as you have being the adult in his life...”

Quinlan trails off before he can comment on the question of whether they’re closer to brothers or father-and-son. Kenobi’s already expressed discomfort with that topic, well before they started naturalizing to this dimension. Quinlan’s not going to push for Kenobi to acknowledge Skywalker’s importance to him.

(They’ll have to address it at some point, but that’s a job for the mind healers, not for Quinlan.)

(For all that it’s going to impact and be impacted by their dynamics, that much is definitely not Quinlan’s to handle.)

Kenobi shudders in his arms, but doesn’t shake him off, and doesn’t stop Skywalker from burrowing somehow closer. Quinlan settles back in as Kenobi returns to playing with Skywalker’s hair.

“We really should invite Ahsoka, though.”

“Not tonight, padawan.”

-----------------------------------------------

Additional notes:

I initially wrote “ternary gender,” but found that it didn’t strike true to how I envisioned gender and dynamic playing out among Jedi culture in particular. While the term ‘dynamic’ is used regularly in a more casual setting, Quinlan uses the term “ternary sex” when talking about it in the company of Anakin and Obi-Wan. I view it as a subconscious attempt to keep a clinical view of the ternary sex system present in the omegaverse dimension, in recognition that it’s new and unfamiliar and often unpleasant for Anakin and Obi-Wan, having come from a dimension that doesn’t have ternary sexes or the associated reproductive capabilities, instincts, or cycles.

I’d like to explore how the ideas of sex, gender, dynamic, and so on intersect within the context of this universe, because I think it’s something I’d have a lot of fun working with, but this is not the fic for that.

#Quinlan Vos #Obi Wan Kenobi #Anakin Skywalker #QuinObi #anakin and obi wan #obi wan and anakin #disaster lineage #time travel #dimension hopping #omegaverse #SW Suddenly Omegaverse #past anidala #star wars #the clone wars #nesting #grooming #scenting #we went fully weird with this and I'm not apologizing... much #Phoenix Posts

[bts-trash-blog]

Best Of Us

Chapter 3: Kim Namjoon

Summary: Being an Omega is hard, it could be so lonely. The hardships that you would sometimes feel seemed to much, always expected of things you could never fully reach. Always seen as a piece of meat to some, seen as weak and stupid. So you worked your ass off to finally work your dream job. And the world all changed when you met one of the bosses. And couldn't help but end up falling.

Paring: Rap Line X Fem!Chubby OmegaReader

Warning: A/O/B!VERS, mentions of sexual harassment, heats, ruts, knotting, breeding, angst, possessive behavior, more warnings will be added as needed.

Chapter Edited

PREV._.NEXT

“Mom! Stop squishing my cheeks.” You complain, the night sky was peaking through the kitchen curretens, your wet hair falling around your cheeks as your mother cooed to your face. Her eyes close as she made a kissy face at you, making you let out a gasp pushing her away as you two let out giggles. You were lucky to be able to go home on time, your mom picking you up just as Jin left, a small wave towards you had your mother tensing as she looked at you. You Let her know who he was and her chest released a breath as she then teased you about how handsome he was, though her body tensed again when she took a deep breath in. Explaining further what happened she nodded, though still tense with the Alpha scent swirling around the two of you.

But now you’re showered, one of your fathers collage thin long sleeve t shirts, covers your torso, basketball shorts on your legs she was relaxed. She was in almost matching attire, though she was sporting one of his plain black shirts, one he wore all the time, so soft you could almost feel it without even touching. Her hair in a bun make up still on, though her lips stain was smudged on her chin, a red stain mushing with her foundation only a little. Her mascara rubbed under her eye, she always hold such a soft caring character. Though a beta, her mothering sometimes reassembled ones of Omegas, or so you heard.

“But my pup is just so cute.” You felt your cheeks flush at the nickname she teases you with the nickname, the one Yoongi had used when speaking to you. It was odd, unprofessional though it didn’t come from some type of dominant drive plan, no it came from a soft place one of kindness, foundess maybe. It had your heart pounding. The worst part about it, you knew they could hear it, and that your mother right now could somewhat hear the difference.

“Mom, I’m not a pup anymore.” She rolls her eyes, turning back to the steamer to check if the dumplings were done, smiling at the way the steam lifted in the air. The smell of pork and veggies has you stomach crawling, the sound of it gurgling had her laughter fill the small kitchen of your home.

“You may not be a pup, but you still love your mama's cooking like one.” She giggles as you let out a whine from the teasing, your body moving quickly to the table. As you sat she moves and dished some rice, placing it down as she also placed a couple dumplings sitting in her spot as she placed the steamer in front of you. You hand opening the lid, chopstick grabbing the first, shoveling the hot, chewy ball of dough and meat into your mouth. Making you huff out as you do from the heat. “You are gonna burn your mouth, Y/n.” She scolds, a smile on her face as you frown at her, cheeks stuffed as you swallow.

“Can’t help you’re cooking is just so good. It’s unfair women.” You grumble, taking a mouth full of rice as she smiles at you.

“Just eat.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” As you eat, the soft silence that surrounds you makes you feel safe and at home. Her occasionally placing a veggie on your rice or guiding them into your mouth, pointing, sliding the glass of water towards you made you feel taken care off. It comforted your tired mind, your omega feeling safe. A purr leaving your chest when she stood up and ran her hand through your hair, gently scratching your scalp. Eyes closing as she smiles, happy she can bring you comfort after a most likely stressful day. Knowing she’d have to do it tomorrow, and the day after that, yet it brought her comfort as well. Knowing she can do what you father once did, even in her own way.

“Tried?” She asks, making you nod, she watches as your chewing slows as her fingers massage your scalp, her smile growing as she stops making you start whining at her. “Oh hush, now did these Alphas treat you okay, you just said you split coffee on yourself, nothing else.

“Very.” One worded response had her huffing, rolling her eyes as she bumps your shoulder with her hip as she picks up the now empty steamer, placing it back on the counter.

“I would like a better response, especially since you showed up in my car with one of their tops on.” You blush, eyes opening as you take a gulp of your water hand gripping the glass tightly as you nod slowly.

“Yeah Mr.Jung offered it to me since my shirt was soaking and I just never got the chance to change back into it after it dried, though the coffee stain did make it hard to want to change back.”

“And not his scent?”

“He’s mated, to Mr. Min and their omega.” Your words had her freeze rinsing the dishes, nodding slowly as you let out a soft hum.

“A trio? Huh I think I did read somewhere that they were one, just didn’t look into it.”

“I had no idea, and I felt stupid.” Your mumbled words head her throwing her head back with a laugh making you pout at her.

“Your stupid? You know who you are, right?” Nodding she looked at you, turning to face you hand resting on her hip making you cross your arms over your belly, sweater paw hands. “You are one of the smartest people I know, that I bet that Bambam and Lisa know. So never doubt yourself, “

“It was just a comment.” You mumbled, looking down at your sock covered feet, she tuts as you look up at her.

“Just a comment? Yeah from you, it was not just a comment. You undermine yourself every day, now go brush your teeth and go to bed. Work never waits for you.”

As you exit the elevator, the sound of your heels clicking against the tile, coffee already in hand. Placing the coffee holder on the desk next to an already wide awake Jin, he smiles at you, you walking towards Yoongi's door. As you did you saw a body leave, though Hoseok's shirt that was hanging in the curve of your arm, seeming to catch the man's eye as he let out a growl. Going up to you, making you shrink back. Though the sweet smell of pears mixing with peaches had your head spinning, and your scent or maybe your movements had the man freezing. He shakes it off, hand reaching front he top as he growls at you.

“Why do you have my mates' shirt?” You stan frozen, lips parted as you let out a whimper, Yoongi's door opening as he let out a whistle catching the man's attention.

“Both of you are in here now.” Following his orders with a nod, the two of you walk in though you make sure the Omega, their third, their mate was first inside, waiting for him to move. As Yoongi sees the pitch black Americano in your hand he gives you a smile and takes it, making the Omega male growl. “Namjoon, knock it off.”

“She had Hoseok's shirt.” Namjoon whines, with a stomp making Yoongi roll his eyes, hand slipping to the back of his neck making Namjoon poute drop into a droopy smile. You awkwardly play with the jacket sleeve having decided to wear a hoodie, your fathers hoodie, instead of a blazer though you were in a black button down and black slacks. Still professional, yet you felt more comfortable. Though right now, you felt the opposite of that. You tried to control your scent, though your distress must’ve captured their attention.

“Y/n don’t worry about my little one over here, he’s just possessive after his..uh heat.” You nod slowly, not really in a position to say that you understand. Cause you didn’t. You understood the heat part, but being possessive of someone , no clue. You had no one. So all you could understand was the pain of being alone, the depression that came after a heat. That's all you know.

“That fine..I guess I understand.” You mumble,  your hand only tightened around your wrist, Namjoons eyes lingering as you play with your jackets.

“Sure you do, I don’t smell alpha on you. See she co-”

“Namjoon, you have no right to get like this. You agreed to her being our intren. So knock it off.”

“Hyu-”

“I’m just gonna go get to wo-”

“You’re working with me today, sit.” You take a breath in, eyes widening as you look to the chair he gestured at. Slowly moving, eyes staying to the ground, knowing the two mates where glaring at one another, you hear the Omega huff

“Then I’m staying.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.” You sat down, just as you watched Namjoon throw himself on an identical couch that was in Hoseok office. In fact the office was pretty much identical though the walls were an off blue grey tone. Your body moved the jacket off, placing it on your lap, wishing your father's scent was still lingering on the fabric. Though very few pieces of fabrics at the home smelt like him, his bedsheets, his mattress, even his pillow. That's pretty much all of it. You left all these objects to your mother. Blinking slowly at the ipad, your ipad sat in front of you on a case, a keyboard connecting as you look to Yoongi.

“So you are gonna go through these complaints on our newest product and find the most common complaints, problems there are.” Nodding you fall into your work mode, hand moving to the keyboard, opening email after email, making a list of every complaint.

Hours passed,your body now almost completely hunched over, eyes dazed as you pull back and let out a yawn. Hand moving to kneaded at the jacket in your lap. Your eyes reading over yet another dramatic complaint  over the price of the product, making you huff. Jin had brought you your coffee once he realized you weren’t coming back, it was snow empty resting behind your ipad, Yoongi's cup was next to it. Namjoon had huffed, and puffed for the first hour, scrolling through his phone but now he was on his own laptop, bobbing his head.

You had finally gotten a good look at him. His hair was an ash blonde, though the roots were dark. His eyes were the lightest brown out of the three, rounded cheeks and board shoulders. He wasn’t what useal male omegas looked like, though he did have features like an omega. His hips were widers, and his thighs thick, but you could tell, even under the large black sweater, he was muscular. Just like his mates. He had even dimples, fucking dimples. When Yoongi had called for him, a smile had blinded you when he skipped to the desk, and sat on top of Yoongi's lap. As if to gloat. But the extra, dramatic smile dropped when he saw how happy you looked at the two.  A small, welcoming smile falling on his lips as he kissed his mate and got back up moving back to the couch.

That was over an hour ago, you were now feeling sitting for four hours straight catching up to you, the back pain that had only started to happen after the accident, was spiking up your back. The muscles around your spine tense, spassuming making you reach back, eyes closing as you massage at the area. A soft grunt passing your lips making Namjoons eyes snap up, Yoongi's eyes trailing over to you as you tried to adjust yourself in your seat. Failing.

“Everything okay Y/n?”  Namjoon asked, headphones sliding down his head, around his neck. You look at him, giving him a slightly painful smile as you nod, then shrug.

“Eh, back is killing me.”

“Period?” He wonders, making you look at him with a head tilt, wondering how a stranger could be so bold. “What I know is female, no matter what sub gender, get them. It is what helps you guys..be..get pregnant. I..sorry if it was too personal.”

“No, just..it wasn’t..just not used to stanger caring.” You mumble eyes drifting back to your emails, silence falling back between the three of you. When you straighten your back, sharp pain makes you stand as you let out a whine. “Fucking hell..sorry.” You whisper, hand falling to your lower back as Yoongi looks at you with wide eyes. Namjoon is already at your side as you look at him, comfort. All you felt was comfort as his hand met your lower back.

“Are you sure it's not your period? I've read that female' omegas hips move up to that age twenty-five. It could be that.” he mumbled making you blush as  you shake your head, taking a deep breath. Feeling comfort at his warm hand against your back.

“Yeah it’s not that..I..I got in a really bad car accident my freshman year of college, been messed up ever since.” Your words caused worry to etch on his face as he looked at you then down to the chair you were in.

“No lumbar support probably doesn’t help any damage that was caused, Yoongi what the heck she's worked for you for two days and you already are causing problems for her.” he mumbles, making your eyes wide as Yoongi let out a growl.

“It’s not like I knew about this, if I did I would’ve gotten things to help her. Can you stop touching her.” His words had Namjoon growling, bringing you closer to his side, making you stumble, his hand working the muscle cramp, made you lean into him. “Now, Namjoon.”

“No. Omegas help, and I rather do this then you or Hoseok, or even Jin. “ His words were filled with growls, hand pressing against your back moving you towards the couch.

“Namjoon.”

“Yoongi.” You look to see your boss now pouting, as the Omega had you sit down on the couch, hand moving against you back as Yoongi sighed. Picking up the jacket from the ground making you stand and growl, rushing to grab it as you let out a whine once you realized what you did.

“Sorry..it’s..it was my dads.” You mumble clutching it to your chest. Yoongi's glare fell at your broken words as you took a breath and looked at him. “I think...I think i’m gonna finish going through the emails out there with Jin.” You mumbled, grabbing you things, quickly scurrying out of the room. You had felt so comfortable, way too comfortable in fact. You had growled at Yoongi, had let Namjoon, a stranger touch your back. His scent now lingering around and on you as you exit. The two watching eyes wide, following after you. Worry etched in their eyes, but also confusion filling them.

Both wondering why they wanted you back, wanting you to be wrapped in their arms, dripping in their scents, your scent of freshly baked cookies mixed with chocolate had their mouths watering. It was driving them insane. Wondering why seeing the tears in your eyes hurt them. 

Yet when their eyes met, it all made sense.

Tag list:

@kth-kpoplover @alex4243 @malyxsoulpersonal @purelyecstacy @ryuyalana @nlost21 @xanny91 @barbyisafangirl @munchyn @lashaysaurusrex @scentedsope @purpleheartsfortae @btsforlif @barbikatherine @mauranglc @uniquelyabnormallyoriginal  @keepyourdreamsalive @ellethemoon​ @thickemadame @chimchimooo73

#bts #bts suga #bts jhope #bts rm #bts yoongi #bts hoseok #bts namjoon #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #bts x reader #bts x y/n #bts x chubby reader #bts x omega reader #bts yoongi fluff #bts yoongi smut #BTS yoongi angst #bts yoongi x reader #bts hoseok fluff #bts hoseok smut #bts hoseok angst #bts hoseok x reader #bts namjoon smut #bts namjoon fluff #BTS namjoon angst #bts namjoon x reader #bts a/o/b #bts au #bts series #bts poly

[miraculousares]

Because I doubt the writers are going to feed us the interaction immediately after The Thing™, here I am. GANG OF SECRETS SPOILERS. IF YOU HAVEN'T WATCHED S4 YET, DO NOT READ ON

Marinette clutched the sides of her head as if she might explode if she didn't hold everything together. "You're right, I have secrets and I lie all the time! I lie to my parents, to my friends. To everyone..." She felt her best friend sit beside her on the chair but she was so caught up in her feelings that she couldn't process it. "And the worst part about it is that I can't do anything about it!" She buried her face in her hands, fighting back another bought of sobs.

"We always have the choice, Marinette." Alya spoke softly and carefully putting her arms around the girl. In the back of her head, Marinette was sure that she could feel her shaking but at this point, she didn't care. She was overwhelmed. She was heartbroken. She was stressed. She was terrified.

"No." She looked up and met her friend's eyes and saw a look of sympathy. "At least not for me. I've got no other choice. It's all beyond us, Alya, and it's too heavy to carry." She wiped a tear from her face.

"If it's too heavy, then we'll be two to carry it," the girl whispered comfortingly. With this, Marinette let out a long breath. She knew what the right decision was to the discourse she'd been having in her own head all day. That didn't stop her fear from taking control, though.

"If I tell you, things between us will never be the same. It's going to destroy everything, change it all."

"Marinette, whatever you'll say, I'm your friend." Marinette could hear how desperately her friend wanted to know. But it wasn't out of curiosity or pushiness. It was to take the burden of her secret from her. To help her carry it.

"And me..." She searched her friend's eyes, gaining the confidence and reassurance she needed from the loving stare of her best friend. "I'm Ladybug." Time seemed to move in slow motion. For a moment, she wondered if Bunnix had done it, showing up to keep her from telling Alya. But instead, time resumed as the redhead's expression quickly changed from shock and confusion to one of understanding before pulling her into a tight hug. She paused for a moment before wrapping her own arms around her friend and let herself sob silently into her shoulder.

If she was being honest, Marinette had thought of a thousand different scenarios as to how Alya might react. The majority of them were filled with neverending questions from the Ladybug-Superfan. A select few ended with Alya storming out and never speaking to her. One even included her selling her out to Shadowmoth, though she shut that one down quickly. However, she hadn't let herself imagine Alya comforting her immediately. Marinette was grateful to her friend for that. She didn't ask her to prove it, ask her a million questions, or even speak. She just hugged her because she trusted her. Alya had complete faith in her.

After a few minutes of letting out the weeks' worth of sorrow and pressure out into her friend's flannel-clad shoulder, she eventually pulled away and searched Alya's eyes. She seemed to be processing the information, but sympathy and understanding still took over her face. Seeing that expression, all worries and stress washed away in a wave of overwhelming relief. It felt amazing to have finally told someone and she knew she had made the right choice. She let out another breath and a smile forced itself onto her face. It felt foreign on her face now, rarely having worn one since becoming the gaurdian, but it felt at home. She wiped her cheeks and laughed. Nothing was amusing, she was just so happy that it escaped her lips automatically.

"Okay, I'm okay. You can react now," she announced. Though Alya was doing an amazing job at just being understanding, she could tell that her best friend was bursting with questions. Alya seemed to scan over her one last time to check for any remaining need of comfort before letting her face turn to an expression of shock.

She sat silent for a moment as if trying to organize her thoughts before breathing out, "You've beta-read so much of my LadyNoir fanfiction..." Marinette couldn't help the loud laugh. She clapped her hand over her mouth but Alya just joined in the laughter. They sat there letting out all of their relief and joy and connection through that shared laugh until their stomachs hurt. Eventually, they were able to get their breath back and Alya seemed to be more collected in her processing.

"Okay, actually though, that's insane. Ladybug has been my best friend this whole time and I had no clue. And all the pressure you've been under this whole time. I mean hell, Marinette! Paris' safety- No. The world's safety has been sitting on your and Chat Noir's shoulders for two years and you're only 16! I can't even imagine it! I mean, I guess I can to an extent because, ya know, Rena Rogue. But that's more of a part-time gig and it's not like everyone's relying super heavily on me. And now I'm rambling. What I'm trying to say is that I'm glad you trusted me with this and I'm so sorry I haven't been able to support you the way you've been needing. But I'm here now." She inhaled, clearly having forgotten to breathe during her ramble, and pulled Marinette into one more hug. "Can I ask questions?" She asked after they pulled apart again.

Marinette smiled. "Of course, Als."

"Okay. God, where do I even start? Do you know who Chat Noir is?"

"No. It's too dangerous for us to know each other's identities. Shadowmoth needs both of our miraculous and if we knew each other's identities, that would make it that much easier for him to get them," Marinette explained. It felt amazing to finally be talking about this with someone. Of course, she always had Tikki and now the other kwamis, but she needed the support of another person. She needed the support of her best friend.

"So he doesn't know who you are either?" Marinette shook her head and Alya nodded. "How did you even get your miraculous? I mean it's not like there was a Ladybug to hand it to you like I got mine."

"The last guardian, Master Fu, gave them to us. I don't know what happened with Chat Noir but I imagine that it was similar to why he gave me mine. I saved him from getting hit by a car in a crosswalk and showed him kindness. He told me later that he could see the 'heroic qualities' in me." She used her fingers to make air quotes around the words.

"That's incredible!" She paused for a moment, eyebrows raised in thought. "Oh my god, so many things make so much sense now."

"RIGHT?!" Marinette exclaimed.

"That's why you're always late! And why you're always so tired! And why you just dash out of class in the middle of the day!"

"EXACTLY!" Marinette practically shouted, relieved to finally be understood.

"Oh,

man... Everything's clicking in place, wow." Marinette could almost see the equations floating in front of Alya's face.

"Wait, sorry if this is out of line but... Is LadyNoir canon?"

"WHAT! No! Not in a million years!"

"Then what is this?" Alya whipped out her phone and showed Marinette her home screen. It was the picture that had been haunting the girl since it was taken. She wished it would disappear but it was constantly resurfacing on the internet and on tabloid covers. The photo of her and Chat Noir kissing on the rooftop after battling Oblivio.

"I have no idea what that was," she admitted. "I have no memory of even defeating Oblivio, let alone kissing that mangy cat."

"I mean, I know you're going through a lot right now and have sworn off romance for the time being but... Could it ever happen?"

Marinette opened her mouth to respond but all that came out was a sigh. "No," was all she said.

"Why not?"

"I..." Tears formed in her eyes and Alya immediately pulled her into a hug.

"Oh my god, Marinette. I'm so sorry, I didn't-"

"No, no. I just... I haven't really let myself think about it since it happened. But, I guess I can finally talk about it, huh?"

"You can tell me anything, you know that."

And so, Marinette told Alya about what happened with Chat Blanc. She explained how their love destroyed the world. She explained how her own irresponsibility with her miraculous had destroyed the world. The whole event had honestly been very traumatic to Marinette and weighed heavily on her heart. Since that, she'd been even more closed off about her secret, especially to her partner. She hadn't let herself think about it if she could help it, but it still haunted her in her nightmares.

As she finished the story, Alya tightened her arms around her. "Marinette, I am so, so sorry that you had to go through that. You've been put through so much and you've been holding on to so much pressure and it's not fair. Mari, when I tell you this, I want you to believe me. You are the strongest person I know. You've gone through more than anyone should have to go through in a lifetime. Yet, you still manage to find a way to always be there for your friends and your family. You're out all night fighting for your life and for the world and then you come to school and you're there for everyone else. You are so, so strong. You're amazing and not just because you're Ladybug, but because you're Marinette."  Marinette couldn't hold back the tears that flowed down her cheeks as she hugged her best friend. Any regrets or doubts she worried she might have about telling Alya were gone. She knew she had made the right choice.

The girls spent the rest of the night talking about this, a mix of laughing and crying until they eventually fell asleep there on Marinette's couch, tired from the whirlwind of emotions. "Thank you, Alya, for being here for me," Marinette whispered as Alya's breathing steadied. Then, she closed her eyes and fell asleep herself. For the first time in weeks, her dreams were light and hopeful.

#gang of secrets #je suis ladybug #I am ladybug #ml season 4 #ml spoilers #ml fanfic #miraculous ladybug #miraculous fanfic #mlb #mlb season 4 #marinette dupain cheng #alya cesaire #alyanette

[moonyswriting]

Suit yourself

This is for @unadulteratedpaperparadise :) I wanted to make you something, because you are amazing, so i wrote this for you <3

Thank you so much to @moonofthenight for being my beta at this hour especially :)

Characters by @lumosinlove

„I have nothing to wear,“ Kasey complained, standing in front of their closet, a few shirts pooling at his feet.

There was a groan from the living room of their shared flat and then footsteps making their way over to the bedroom. Alex coming to a halt in the door frame. “Babe. Look down, pick something up, you’re done,” he said smiling at his boyfriend. They had hours left until Remus’ and Sirius’ wedding, so they were in no rush. By hours, Alex meant 63 hours.

He shook out of his thoughts, concentrating on the frustrated boyfriend at hand.

Kasey huffed, “Have you seen these? We’re going to a wedding. The best wedding-” he stopped himself, biting his lip for a second before continuing, “the best wedding we’ll be going to for a while, I will not just wear a black suit and be done with it,” Kasey stated, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Alex had been planning to just wear his blue suit. He had debated about buying a new tie to go with Natalie’s attire, but that would have been all.

“Hey,” as if he knew exactly what was going on, Kasey stepped out of the pile of clothes and up to the redhead, “I know you were planning on wearing your blue suit. It’s a great choice, you look so hot in that damn thing,” the blond looked down at his boyfriend, grinning “But I want to look just as good,” Kasey simply told him, leaning down to peck his cheek.

Alex was about to cut in, complain, that Kasey was the best-looking man on the planet, whether he was wearing a trash bag or sweatpants or gear or a goddamn ball gown- he had to stop himself at that, because Alex’s thoughts would definitely not help Kasey in choosing an outfit. Although he wouldn’t have to wear one at all, which might take a little stress away.

Alex's head snapped up again. During his thoughts his eyes had somehow moved to Kasey’s lips without his control. He remembered the days where people used to think he had a crush on them, just because his in-thoughts brain had decided to make his eyes stare at inappropriate places. Then Alex remembered that wasn’t the case anymore. He actually wanted, what his eyes were implying. Tilting his head up again, he placed a kiss on Kasey’s lips.

Then Alex had to tell him. “You will always look incredible. No matter what.”

The other smiled at that. “Even if I wear a neon green bow tie with a neon pink suit?”

Letting out a bright laugh, Alex told him, “Even if you wear sweatpants to the wedding.”

“I would rather stay at home,” Kasey huffed out, still smiling though. Then he turned back towards the closet, “I was going to ask for your advice, but from what you just said, that will do more harm than good. No offense.”

“Wow,“ the older pretended to be hurt by the comment, laughing too much to make it believable, which got Kasey to join in.

They only noticed their girlfriend had joined them, when Alex felt arms hugging him around his chest. He felt her hum into his back, her cheek pressed to his spine. Alex closed his eyes at the feeling, leaning into it.

Kasey being Kasey, they didn’t stay alone for long. Alex and Nat both got a kiss on the cheek, before they were cuddled by the blond, trying to squish himself as close to his loves as possible.

“Of course he would,” she muttered under her breath, smiling up at her boys. “That’s what today is for.”

After a while, Natalie asked them what they had been laughing about, the question only resulting in more of that, until she had to laugh as well. She still couldn’t believe how she got to have them. Both of them.

“Kasey needs help with his outfit for the wedding,” Alex told her between breaths. She didn’t seem surprised.

Both hockey players looked up in surprise.

“I’m taking you shopping, because you,” she pointed at Kasey, “will not stop whining until we bought you a new something and you” she continued, pointing at Alex this time, “will need another tie, because all blue is a great look, but why live life in one color?”

–

Since Natalie and Kasey had agreed on helping Alex first, they were currently browsing through the tie section of the store. They had already found a few that would either fit with Natalie’s dress or Alex’s hair and some that just looked nice.

After making a few decisions without Alex, the other two let him see the final options they had limited themselves to. A floral one with red and orange flowers that would compliment his hair or a sky blue one that would not only fit with the jumpsuit Natalie had picked out for herself a few weeks ago, but would also make his eyes pop, as Alex’s partners had explained excitedly.

He couldn‘t help but be biased towards the blue one, when he saw both their eyes glint with something. The team knew about them, that they were dating and being each other’s date to the wedding, so he might as well match.

Alex knew he made the right choice, when he told them the blue one. Natalie couldn‘t hide her grin and it lifted the corner’s of Alex‘s mouth automatically.

“A redhead down, a blond to go!” and with that Natalie was already off to another section, where shirts were displayed. Both boyfriends went after her.

A few minutes went by of them just quickly scanning through the options, when they turned around to find no less than seven shirts already piled in Kasey’s arms a face splitting grin on his face.

“Oh babe,” both his partners said at the same time in the exact same voice. It would have been scary if Kasey wasn’t head over heels in love with both of them.

“Can I try them on?” he asked them excitedly, already subtly moving towards the changing rooms. They knew he had golden retriever tendencies, but this time they practically saw a tail wagging behind him.

And how could they ever deny him anything when he had puppy dog eyes to match.

–

It took about sixteen shirts to find one that Kasey loved enough to want to wear it to the wedding.

Alex was sitting on one of the chairs in front of the changing rooms and after Natalie had complained about the professional hockey player taking a seat before her, she was now sitting in his lap, her fingers moving through his red curls as Kasey stepped out again.

“Tada!” he stretched his arms out right before gesturing to his shirt. “I think this might be the one,” he told them, turning around to look at himself in the mirror. Kasey was fully aware that brides usually used that phrase, but he didn’t care. He was allowed this moment. Maybe he would get to hear that sentence from Natalie and Alex soon. Maybe they could have that.

He turned back to his partners, showing off the white floral shirt again.

“You look incredible,” Alex told him, a bit dazed and not looking his boyfriend in the eyes. Kasey looked down, where the redhead’s eyes were fixed, caught on his half open shirt, revealing more of his chest than would probably be considered normal at a wedding.

Natalie didn’t really reply, she just got up, kissing Kasey. No one of the throuple seemed to mind. After breaking the kiss, leaving the goalie blushing, she leaned in whispering into his ear “I’m buying you that right now. You look fantastic.”

Walking back over to Alex, sitting down again, they watched Kasey shake out of his state, smiling to himself and turning around to change back into his normal clothes.

Natalie really did pay for both of their things and put in some earrings she had seen close to the checkout. When she handed over her card to the cashier, she got a snort form behind her. She turned around to look at her boyfriends with a confused expression.

“You’re like our sugar mommy,” Alex told her smiling brightly.

She was fully aware they earned a whole world more than she did, but she liked paying for them every once in a while. She didn’t want them to think she wanted them because of the money. Logically, she knew she never had to pay, but it just felt right sometimes and it was all worth it for their expressions once they got their things.

They would look incredible at the wedding.

#twenty nineth fic #1.5k words #<2k words #fluff #o'darwin #o'darwin fluff #natalie darcy #kasey winter #alex o'hara #suit yourself #lumosinlove #sweater weather #clothes #shopping #coops wedding

[oftenderweapons]

Illicit Affairs — Hoseok

Pairing: Hoseok x reader (nicknamed Giggles)

Wordcount: 11.2k

Genre: Smut. A tiny little bit of angst and fluff too but. Smut.

Rating: 18+

Hi bumblebees! Thank you for staying with me so far and for being so kind with hey works and my continuously shifting schedule.

Quick plot! Hoseok and Giggles have just met: Giggles was the substitute for Mickey’s vet and she helped the doggo and Hoseok during an emergency, however the hour they spent together was enough for Hoseok to develop a quite intense crush for the young woman. He decides he wants to invite her to a date and picks his apartment as the location, going out of his way to try to impress her. However, the elegant dinner miserably crashes once his poor nerves abandon him. Fortunately, Giggles can take the reins, but is also willing to give them up at the right moment.

Special thanks to beta extraordinaire, @hobiandsprite​ I really love you. Please, don’t be sad and let those giggles out every now and then.

Moving on to The Big Stuff.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Alcohol consumption, swearing. Basic BDSM training, Sir!Hoseok x sub!reader; safe sex, briefest mentions of masturbation (male and female), grinding, humping, making out, lots of tongue action, food play (and very messy one at it), cum play, cum eating, mild choking kink, one (1) breast slap, mild fetishism (panties, perfume/smells). Hoseok is overall very controlling, especially while he’s giving her basic training. There’s some sort of exhibitionism (if you like,,,, squint). Also Hoseok is a neurotic mess, Giggles is also quite tense and both like each other a lot, which leads to a few moments of weakness here and there. Mentions of vet emergency (don’t worry, Mickey is doing alright, he was just suffering from the hot temperatures).

Here you can check my full masterlist

Enjoy 💜✨

Jung Hoseok was nervous.

He was tense, palms sweating, nape drenched in perspiration.

He was a ball of nerves and he had never felt like this in a long time. Maybe ever since his first performance in the U.S.

Not like the day of their debut, but close.

And all of this for a stupid date.

He just wanted to know you, see if the image he had built of you actually corresponded with your actual personality.

He cracked his neck and shoulders, pacing back and forth, wondering if it were a good idea having you at his place.

After all, you were Mickey’s vet. He could be safe with you, right? You wouldn’t expose him now, would you?

It was the first time he ever brought someone in his home and he was way too nervous to feel comfortable.

He immediately picked up his phone.

“Jung. Hoseok. I don’t even know why I picked up this call. Why aren’t you getting prepped and polished for your date?” Yoongi’s voice was quiet and gravelly from the other side. It was seven pm, he shouldn’t have been sleeping, Hoseok mused, shaking his head once he realised Yoongi was spending the weekend with Kitten and the two had probably been dozing off on the sofa all afternoon.

“I think I fucked up. I like this apartment, I can’t jeopardise my home.” He panicked, finally losing his cool.

Yoongi inhaled and groaned as he stood up, leaving Kitten alone to rest undisturbed. “She seems a kind person. A smart one too. Just talk to her.”

“You know I suck at talking!” Hoseok whined, combing his hair off his forehead. “I don’t know why I want to impress her so bad.”

Yoongi chuckled. “Because you have a crush on her.”

“But I don’t even know her!” Hoseok protested, sitting on the sofa for a second before standing up again.

“That’s the key ingredient of a crush. Once you start getting to know her, you either grow out of it or fall in love.”

Hoseok cocked his head and toyed with his earlobe nervously. “Do you think she’ll like me? I mean, she looks so sweet, and so innocent and I can’t even imagine her being into—”

“Don’t judge. Strange fits sometimes work. Think Jimin and Princess. Seokjin hyung and Angel. They work. Strange, I know, but they do.”

Hoseok exhaled.

“Stop pacing. Don’t be too hard on yourself. First date is always a bumpy road. Maybe you’ll find out she’s not your thing and all these worries will be gone by the end of the night.”

“What if I like her and she doesn’t like me?”

Yoongi softened. “It’s all part of the game, Hobah.”

Hoseok nodded. “I have to go see if the chef needs help.”

Yoongi grinned. His friend was really going out of his way. Once, all he wanted were hotel rooms and quiet, curvy brunettes with so many sins they had officially given up on heaven at least a lifetime ago. “No matter how it goes, I’m sure you’ll find someone right for you.”

Hoseok nodded curtly before realising his friend couldn’t see his reply. “Thank you, Yoongi.”

“Sweep her off her feet, Casanova.”

With a bubbly laugh, Hoseok interrupted the call, headed to the private kitchenette. “Can I help you in any way?” Hoseok asked, still keeping his hands on his stomach, trying not to touch anything that could possibly cause a disaster — which considering the setting and his poor cooking skills meant everything.

“It’s okay. I can take care of everything. Don’t worry. Relax.” The chef almost wanted to take a second to pat the younger man’s back. He was probably six years his senior but the stress of a first date was timeless.

And the poor guy was sweating disastrously.

“Okay, then I’ll go check the table.” Hoseok murmured.

“Already settled. And the cake  is waiting in the fridge. It’s still too hot for it.” The chef replied as he turned off the stove since the sauce for the noodles had reached perfect texture. “Maybe a small glass of soju could help?”

Hoseok shook his hands in panic. “Oh, no. That would make it all worse. Why is it so hot in here!”

He walked away from the kitchen, once more staring at the table near the wide floor to ceiling windows. The view would soon turn stunning, the Han river running like a pitch black road, cutting the city in two, Itaewon lighting up in the distance and emerging like a glowing mirage against the night sky.

What if she’s scared of heights?

He banged his head against the wall, pacing again, texting the group chat.

HS: “What if she suffers from vertigo?”

SJ: “You didn’t place the table by the window, did you?”

Hoseok tugged at his hair, undoing a button on his shirt. Why was everything so fucking hot?!

HS: “Should I move it? I have ten minutes! I can move it.”

TH: “Don’t. You can place her with her back to the window if she feels uncomfortable.”

JK: “You’re such a loser, hyung. Relax, it will work out.”

HS: “DON’T TELL ME TO RELAX YOU UNGRATEFUL RASCAL”

JM: “Okay, let’s calm down. Personally I would feel even worse with my back to the window. You can move to the coffee table. It will feel more informal and you will FINALLY GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF YOUR ASS,

JM: “she probably just wants to chat over fried chicken while you’re going to make her uncomfortable with all that finesse.”

NJ: “Gotta agree with Jimin on this one. She’ll simply want to chat. You’ll want to chat and get to know her.”

YG: “I told you it will be alright now stop spamming.”

HS: “AND I SUCK AT CHATTING”

JK: “yeah, you kinda ramble”

JM: “not helping Guk.”

The doorbell rang.

Fuck.

He pocketed his phone and headed to the door. “Yes?”

“Uhm… It’s confusing here, I think you need to pick me up.” You said anxiously over the intercom.

“I’m coming. Wait in the foyer.” He slipped on his shoes and got in the elevator, cracking all the joints of his fingers as it descended, going through the process again once he had cracked them all. He dumbly wished he had more fingers.

The door opened and there you stood with your back to him, your shoulders covered by a messy tumble of hair.

“Hello?” He called, making you turn around immediately.

His stomach turned upside down when you hit him with your sweetest, most radiant smile as you faced him. “Hi!”

He felt dumbstruck. You looked adorable, way too pretty for him. Way too incredible for anyone in the universe. “Hello.” He repeated, feeling a nervous smile constrict his face.

It almost looked like a grimace. For a second you thought you had somehow disappointed him. Maybe your dress was too informal? Were you too underdressed?

Staring at his outfit, you realised you were.

“You look very handsome.” You flattened your dress nervously, aware of every movement you made, feeling ridiculous.

“Oh, thank you.” He emitted the most neurotic laugh. Pull yourself together, Jung Hoseok, he innerly scolded himself before gesturing to the lift. “Shall we?”

You nodded, your glee completely lost. Staring at your dumb flats, you approached the opening doors and entered, Hoseok following suit.

You both stayed silent for a couple floors. “How was your day?” You managed to find the guts to ask.

“Uhm… Okay, I guess? My family came to pick Mickey up the other day so it’s been very quiet and a bit lonely.” He smiled but he looked sad.

You nodded. “Pets really change the whole feeling of home.”

He noticed you pressing your hands together before your lap, tucking your elbows against your sides as you tried to shrink yourself enough to disappear. You knew you should have bought a nice dress for this. You cursed your childish tastes and your sweet saffron dress, too demure and cheap for him. You had maybe spent 30,000 won on it, probably the equivalent of his shoelaces.

Screw that — obviously even his shoelaces cost more than that.

You started sucking at your lips, frowning at yourself for messing up your lipgloss. Out of nerves, you started twisting slightly side to side, your dress moving slightly with the motion, your eyes still focused on your shoes.

He was intimidating. Why in the world did you accept a date with him? He was way out of your league! All it would be was one date you would remember someday in your old years, annoying your grandchildren with that one time you had dinner at one of the most incredibly powerful and famous artists of the world.

Hoseok surreptitiously dried his palms against his trousers. He looked at you. His stomach turned again. He wondered how he would manage to eat all that food. All he could do was look at you and take in the cute freckles, that peppered your nose and cheekbones, and your arms too.

“You have freckles.” He noted absentmindedly, a thought unwillingly turned into speech.

You turned your head to him, batting your lashes confusedly. Was it a good thing or a bad thing?

“Yes.”

“You look like a strawberry.” Jung Hoseok, what the fuck.

You frowned. Again, was that good or bad?

“No one has ever told me that before,” you replied with a tense giggle.

He cocked his head at the sound. That was sweet. He liked that. Could he make you laugh like that again? “And you look very pretty in the dress. That shade of yellow really compliments you.” He confessed, feeling his whole face blush.

This felt like his first crush, when he would hide behind corners not to face the girl he liked, and when he would hide his face because it made him feel strange to be looked in the eye by her. She was way too pretty for him.

Thank the heavens, you thought as the doors finally opened on his floor.

He was drenched in sweat. He could literally feel the back of his shirt stick to his skin. He hoped you wouldn’t notice.

He smiled again, this time more relaxedly as he led the way. The lighting was perfect, the deep night sky splashing its colour over Seoul, the billowing darkness of the Han, the magical glimmering of Itaewon, like a flock of fireflies in the distance.

“Goodness gracious,” you exclaimed, walking toward the window and looking out, completely ignoring the table. “This is… It’s like flying.”

He smiled and let his shoulder sag in relief, his elated exhale cooling his heated chest. “I was panicking because it kind of hit me that you could be scared of heights. Like one of those last minute panic thoughts.”

You turned to him to comfort him. “It’s—”

You noticed the table. You noticed the gargantuan quantity of bowls and dishes and plates and cups spread all over it.

Suddenly it all made sense.

“Was this supposed to be a formal dinner?” You asked, your whole face scrunched in perplexity.

He froze in utter confusion. “Just dinner.”

“Are you okay?” You asked, looking as his left eyelid started pulsating with small flutters.

He hurriedly placed his hand over it, turning his back to you. “Yeah, just… Hot weather, blood pressure...”

You walked closer to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. He was drenched. “Jung Hoseok,” you called calmly.

You could feel his heartbeat get three times faster.

“Hoseok. Turn around,” you told him sweetly, rubbing his shoulder-blade softly, completely ignoring the way the fabric stuck to his skin.

He turned to you, still cupping the left side of his face with both hands.

“Are you nervous?” You asked, feeling the ridge of his shoulder with your fingertips.

He nodded shyly, giving you the smallest pout.

“And you got a full meal for this? Were you trying to kill me by overfeeding me?” You asked with a tiny smile.

“I— I didn’t know what you like and I hired a chef so we could have excellent food here at home and—”

“This wasn’t necessary, you know that right?” You rubbed your thumb against the muscle and bone of his shoulder. “I mean, it’s not like I don’t appreciate it, but it seems like you went maybe… slightly out of your way for this.” You noticed more details, like the flowers and the candles and… wait, he hired a chef? There was another person that would take part in your date as a silent, distant viewer?

“Is it too much?” He asked, frowning and grimacing.

You offered him a lopsided grin and tipped your head to one side, then to the other, back and forth in a so-and-so gesture.

He covered his whole face with his hands and collapsed on the sofa. “Shit, I fucked up so bad.”

You crouched down before him, making sure that the dress didn’t expose too much of your thighs. “It’s okay. Would you like to have a formal dinner?”

“I just wanted to make a good impression.” He whined, tugging at his hair once more.

You touched his forearms, trying to ease his tension before realising that you were technically strangers and maybe he didn’t like being touched. You scolded yourself for your over-tactile approach, and your dumb habit of treating everyone like abandoned puppies. Embarrassedly you placed your hands on your lap, his face raising to meet yours as he felt your fingers leave his skin. Had he done something wrong? Had he made a fool of himself one more time, without even knowing?

“You already made a good impression—”

“I wanted to confirm it!” He wailed exasperatedly.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you tried to calm him down. “We can walk this walk or do something more low-key. More... relaxing,” you suggested, smiling easily, calmly.

He could feel himself calm down. “Would it disappoint you if we just… I don’t know... ate some noodles over a glass of soju and beer?”

You giggled. “That would make me ecstatic.”

“Let me go call off the chef then.” He stood to his feet. “Thank you so much.”

You shrugged and beamed at him. “No biggie.”

In two minutes the chef came out of the kitchen, bowing at you while you still sat on the sofa. “Good evening. I wish you a good meal. I hope you’ll enjoy the food.”

“Thank you for your hard work! I’m sure I’ll enjoy it!” You replied politely and warmly, watching the man collect a bag from the entry room and bow to Hoseok as he accompanied him out.

“He had already finished cooking.” Hoseok exhaled. He looked ten years younger and significantly less stressed. “The meat had already been grilled, it just needs to be warmed up in the oven.”

“You mean there’s more food?” You asked, eyes wide in terror.

He started shaking his hands in equal fear. “We don’t have to eat that too. Maybe just a couple short ribs?” He wondered.

You stared at the rice and side dishes on the table. It was probably four times what you normally ate, and that was without considering his half of the table. “You have glass noodles?” You asked, and he nodded excitedly at your interest.

“With aubergines and mushrooms and pork belly?”

You felt your mouth water. “Can we have those though?”

He smiled excitedly. “The chef was stir frying the vegetables so we would have to finish that.”

You shrugged. “I can do that while you go get changed, if you’d like. Wear something fresh and cozy.”

He looked around nervously.

You immediately realised what was wrong. How could he let a stranger wander through his house? And he wasn’t just anyone. He was a celebrity. A famous person. What if he thought you would sneak through his private spaces and sell information about him to the press?

“Uhm—”

“Oh my god. No, it’s okay. Who would let a stranger stay in their home while they’re in the shower. Dumb me. Sorry.”

He blinked a couple times. “It's the first time I have invited someone in my house, except for my close friends.” He looked down and smiled, his cheeks shooting up in a complicated mix of sadness and joy. “I'm nervous because of that too.”

You nodded. “I know it could sound dumb to say but I care about you. And I'm not interested in gossip and press and all of that. I will respect you and your home. It's basic human decency,” you said, sitting next to him. “I only suggested you go get a change of clothes because that cannot be comfortable and I wouldn't be surprised if you wanted out of that.”

He looked up at you with big, soft eyes. “It would really be okay?”

“Yes, it would, Hobi.” You flinched at the nickname. “Hoseok. Sorry.” You wanted to tear your own tongue off.

However, just as much as you felt disappointed at yourself for the small slip, he felt warm about you calling him by a nickname. He wanted you to say it again. And again. And well… again but in other ways.

“I'll be back in five minutes, just to rinse off and get comfy.”

You nodded. “I'll wait here and then we'll get the noodles ready.”

Hoseok felt extremely relieved once he changed his clothes. The loose linen joggers felt like a soft cloud around his legs, air already circulating better against his skin. And the satin shirt made him feel classy and casual at the same time.

He was pleased at the comfort-looks ratio of his outfit and exited the room confidently. He was further reassured once he found you scrolling through your phone, sitting there innocently, smiling at him once you saw him appear.

“Okay, ready to go?” He asked, standing in front of you, all set to accompany you to the kitchen.

You nodded and took his hand as he helped you up. “Let’s go.”

He smelled amazing, like anise and patchouli. Something sweet and manly at the same time. It suited him perfectly.

Standing a bit too close after he tugged you up, you surreptitiously tried to sniff him, your eyes falling shut once the vaguely honeyed fragrance met your nostrils.

He observed you as you stood there, clearly entranced. Heat crept up his cheeks as your breath tickled down his neck: he was slowly becoming aware of your presence, of the warmth that your skin radiated, of the way a strand of your hair skimmed his arm.

“I like your perfume,” you whispered.

He felt his knees grow vaguely wobbly, a swoony, shy smile stretching his lips.

The moment you opened your eyes, you realised his face was just a few inches away from yours, his blush visible in high definition right before your eyes.

He looked so incredibly, adorably embarrassed. “Thank you,” he replied quietly, almost afraid of breaking the spell of the moment.

Your eyes met his, and for a second he hoped you would get on your tiptoes and kiss him, but you casually turned around and started walking away, turning to him only to ask about the kitchen.

Trying to keep his delusions on the low, he led you to the kitchen, where all you could see was the tidy chaos of creation.

A few bowls were piled neatly in the sink, together with lined up utensils. You let him show you the several drawers and cabinets, explaining where to find a frying pan for the vegetables, the noodles already cooked and marinated in the secret sauce the chef had prepared.

All he could do was stare as you easily made your way through the motions, the main dish of your meal ready to be served after a few minutes, the vegetables keeping a crispy texture while the noodles hit a chewier feel once you mixed the two together.

You set both on different bowls and offered them to Hoseok. “I’ll put a couple short ribs in the oven.”

He nodded and reached the dining table, frowning at all the food spread there in cups and plates and dishes and bowls.

His disappointment was short-lived.

“Don’t worry about it,” you murmured gently, completely incapable of keeping yourself from tracing his spine in between his shoulder blades.

You watched his back straighten, the glossy satin glimmering at the shift of muscles and tendons underneath.

You wanted to see that again. No shirt on, next time.

You shook your head and blinked rapidly, trying to awaken yourself from your fantasy.

He set the bowls down and you sat in front of each other, thanking for the food quickly before you started chatting about which food was where.

The meal went on calmly while you talked about your family, your job, and the pets you had visited during the day. At the same time, he explained some of the undercover dynamics of his job, like all the training and briefing and preparations necessary before interviews, photoshoots, or even something as basic as a public appearance where all they had to do was stand and look pretty for the photographers. He teased the theme of the Run episode they had just filmed — which was almost fifteen episodes ahead to the one that had just been aired.

You chit-chatted for a long while, your conversation resembling the sound of chirping birds thanks to Hoseok’s naturally melodic intonation of speech. He was lovely when he stumbled a bit over his words, the ridge of his ears scarlet with embarrassment once a slip of tongue had him making a lewd allusion you caught with a mischievous grin he couldn’t quite catch since your eyes were glued to the table; he had been too busy being ashamed of his freudian lapsus to actually notice that you had enjoyed the reference.

He was saved by the sound of the oven beeping, telling him that the ribs were warm and ready, which made him excuse himself.

He returned just a minute later with more soju and beer, asking if you were okay with the serving or if you were full.

The smell was so inviting you let him convince you.

No matter the large dinner and the several dishes, you managed to eat way more than what you thought, only a quarter of the table remaining untouched.

“Okay, maybe we could pack up the leftovers.” You suggested, standing up once your conversation hit a natural pause, comforted by the feeling that Hoseok no longer felt like a stranger to you.

You helped him, easily getting acquainted with his living room and kitchen. It felt nice to get gradually more independent, enough that you could easily help him up with the containers and that you could assist him with organizing the tupperware in the fridge.

It was all going okay until you were standing in front of the open fridge, ready to close it when his hand landed on yours on the handle, holding the door open. He leaned against your back, grabbing a paper box from the top shelf.

“Sorry,” he spoke quietly, all chirpiness gone.

Shivers propagated from your spine to your limbs, your brain suddenly struck by the feel of perspiration coating your inner thighs. You felt wet and you weren’t sure if it was sweat or actual arousal.

His perfume came in again once he stretched to reach the box.

Hoseok’s attention moved to the mole on your neck as you leaned your head against his shoulder. “Careful, it’s heavy,” he said, giving a quick look at your lashes, at the freckles peppered over your cheekbones, your face turned to the side, ready to nuzzle into the crook of his neck.

His hand was hot against yours, his back light and solid at the same time.

He parted from you, feeling disappointed with the fact that he had to move, biting his lip as his arm struggled keeping the box upright.

You caved slightly as cool air replaced the warmth of his chest, still feeling the phantom presence of his touch.

“Let’s go back to the living room.” He bit his lip, grabbing another bottle as you almost ran from him.

You weren’t okay with what was going on. Not one small bit. You were not okay with the idea of getting drenched and making a mess of yourself on the first date. You were even less okay with the idea of going back home and spending all night with your hand between your legs, thinking about the mind-blowing sex Jung Hoseok was most definitely capable of performing. With a body like that and years of pilates lessons, there was no doubt he could rearrange your organs as your legs and arms bent to accommodate him and please him.

You were even less pleased by the way you craved to satisfy him. You wanted to hear him moan and whine with his melodious voice. You wanted to hear the symphony of his pleasure, the sound of his cries, the smashing of skin against skin, and maybe the legs of the bed scraping against the floor, the headboard thudding against the wall.

You wanted his perfume on your neck, against your chest. You wanted your thighs to smell like him, the scent of your sex mingling with his cologne. It was primal and visceral and obscure and thrilling.

And then a sick side of you wanted to wake up all the neighbours, let them know he was living the night of his life. And since you could only hope of getting a second chance, you found yourself ready to use the night you’d been granted, if fate would allow you an in to the sinful heaven you were imagining.

After all, you weren’t even sure he still liked you.

As he sat in front of you, Hoseok observed your side profile while you stared out of the window, completely lost in your thoughts, your cheeks reddened because of the alcohol.

He was so whipped for you.

However, he knew the initial thrill would eventually fade and leave him with an adorable, beautiful young woman who could never own his heart or tend to his vulnerable side. It had happened so many times before that he was just waiting for his interest to die down.

Because right as he stared at your dreamy expression, he realised he would never lay a finger on you.

You were far too precious for him to sully you with his dirty paws and devilish ways.

With a sliver of sadness tainting his smile, he placed the cake in the middle, preparing two forks, one on your side and one on his.

“I’ve heard champagne is great with strawberries,” he commented, opening the bottle and awakening you from your daydream.

You blinked a few times. “Oh, just a little or I’ll end up dizzy,” you replied with a small smile. “This cake looks beautiful.”

“I hope you aren’t allergic to strawberries or dairy products,” he mused, lifting up his glass to clink it with yours. “Cheers.”

“Cheers,” you repeated before answering his questions. “Luckily I don’t have any allergies. Usually I prefer eating fruit and vegetables, but I’m pretty cool with any kind of food.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Hoseok replied before realising he’d better never see you again. You were too tempting, too pretty, too gentle and overall too attractive for someone like him. Chances were you would be a bit disappointed but would find a proper date within the next two weeks. Women like you were far too requested and treasured in a city like Seoul.

You were suitable from head to toe. You had a degree, a job, a place to yourself, you were accomplished. And then your innocent looks, your kind manners, the caring side he had the fortune of catching a glimpse of.

You would be taken in less than three weeks. He could tell.

It was a mystery to him how you were still single after eight months in the city.

He found the courage to look up from the dessert, only to regret it immediately.

Your mouth was wide open in an attempt to chomp on a huge strawberry, your lips rosy, your nose smeared with cream.

I shall not.

I cannot.

I should not.

He paused.

Fuck. I will.

He placed down his fork and stood to his feet, your eyes following him as he came to your side.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, looking at his stone-cold expression.

You put your fork down, staring back at him with concern.

His hand moved tentatively to your cheek, laying gently along your jaw.

Turning to him, you stared some more, your chest inflating and deflating rapidly and deeply — which was not lost on him.

Too afraid to look, you closed your eyes as he leaned down his thumb moving closer to your mouth, parted as you found it increasingly difficult to breathe.

Your whole world was dark and hot once his breath fanned over your face.

With overwhelming desire coursing through him, Hoseok stared at every single detail, drinking you in with eyes so hungry, like he could swallow every freckle, every mole, every bit of plump flesh and bony edge.

With his hand trembling slightly at the strange position, he dragged his thumb against the tip of your nose, collecting the cream smeared there.

Your eyes opened in surprise at the unanticipated motion, meeting his lowered eyelids, his lovely lashes making an appearance against the fair skin.

And then his thumb met your lips, covering them in sweetness.

“You had cream on your nose,” he said, his eyes never abandoning the curves of your lips.

Jung Hoseok knew he was a sinner already. But with heartbreaking realisation, he knew the next action would deem his fall.

His tongue slipped out of his mouth, guided by a need so deep he could barely control. With the worst intentions, he focused on touching you as little as possible, trying to scoop up the cream caught on the gentle petals of your lips.

What he didn’t expect was for your own tongue to slide out and brush against his.

From there, it was only ruination.

His tongue slid in your mouth, catching on all the flavours of the dessert. It was strawberries. Strawberries everywhere; your freckles, your hair, your shampoo, your dress, he was possessed by them, drowning in a forest of strawberry bushes growing all over him, climbing into his mouth and underneath his clothes.

“Hobi,” you called weakly as he let you go, your body shooting up on your feet as you tried to chase after his mouth, tried to have his arms around you.

He moaned and caught you, placing his forearm against your lower back and holding your cheek with the other. “I’m so sorry, baby.” He placed a chaste kiss on your lips. “I promised myself I wouldn’t but you’re too hard to resist.”

You looked at him with pleading eyes, kissing his jaw, trying to reach the underside of his ear. “Please.”

You tried to calm your breathing by inhaling deeply through your nose, which in retrospective was an awful move since his scent filled your lungs and all you could do was whine in reply, the sound ridiculous and embarrassing to your own ears.

“I’ll do bad things to you, honey. We should stop now,” he said, trying to be judicious.

“Please,” you begged again, rubbing your face against his neck, already trying to cover yourself in his perfume. “Just a kiss, please.”

Closing his eyes, he gave in, following the line of your neck, the sweet mole at the base, drawing your throat with the inner side of his lips.

“Hobi…” You whined once more before receiving a gentle tug at your hair.

“I’m getting there, don’t be impatient,” he growled, making your neck stretch backwards. Once more his tongue slipped out, drawing a line from the hollow between your collarbones all the way to your chin, stopping at your lower lip. “If you’re patient you get a reward, see? That’s how it works with me, sweetheart.”

He kissed your mouth, first delicately, tentatively, trying to feel you open up and give in.

Once you did, he locked your face against his with the hand of his nape, following your body as you walked backwards, reaching the sofa.

“What do you want to tell me, my pretty strawberry?” He teased once he allowed you to let go of him.

“Thank you.”

It was not what he expected, but it made his stomach churn with longing. He needed to please you more, give you more, just to hear those words again.

“You’re welcome, honey. Now, tell me. What do you want me to do, sweetie?” He watched as you sat on the carpet.

You remembered how soft it had felt earlier under your knees. “I wanna make out?” You asked, lashes batting. You didn’t want to sound eager.

“Just make out?” He asked, sitting down in front of you. There was no way he would allow you to blow him tonight.

You looked at him with sparkly eyes. He wanted to dive into them, to feel the magic they held glow inside his body. “Am I allowed to ask for more?” You questioned with the sweetest pout.

“You can ask me anything, honey.” He skimmed the skin of your jaw with the back of his fingers before feeling the hot curve of your neck under his palm.

“Would you think ill of me if I asked for more?”

He shook his head and smiled softly. He would never think ill of you. Not even if you asked him to fuck you for a whole audience of connoisseurs to stare. “You're my cute, little strawberry. I could never think lowly of you.” He cooed.

“What if I wanted you to… to fuck me?” You asked, biting your lip nervously before looking at him.

He thought about the consequences for maybe half a second. He felt awful because, at the end of all the reasoning he knew he would hoard you and every single ounce of pleasure he could coax out of your body.

“Are you sure you want that?” He asked, letting his hand follow the path between your breasts, down to your waist gripping your side.

You licked your lips and nodded. “I'll be so good to you.”

His grin was outright evil. “I know you will, baby.” He kissed your temple. “I need to go get protection if that's what you want. I'll give you a minute to think about it and if you still think so when I'm back, then we're gonna deal with your needy head, mh?”

You nodded, staring at him as he stood up, incapable of not studying his crotch where his cock was visibly tenting his loose trousers.

He chuckled as he watched you stare. “It'll be yours if you still want it later.”

Your eyebrows raised in disappointment as you watched him leave.

So… it was actually going to happen. Did you want it to happen?

What a stupid question! Yes. Of course.

You wanted him and it scared you and thrilled you at the same time.

His footsteps reached the room once more, disappearing once his feet touched the carpet.

“Okay. Here we go, sweetie. Are you still sure you want to have sex with me?” He asked, kneeling and moving your hair off your face, your head reaching his sternum from your seated position.

“Yes, I'm sure,” You confirmed curtly. “Please.”

Oh, to hear you beg. He could cum from that alone. It was intoxicating. And he wasn't even touching you. He could only imagine what sounds you would make once his cock would fill your cunt.

“You want the bedroom—”

“Here. Please.” You shut your eyes tight. You felt like an animal, willing to fuck wherever, and the immense temptation of feeling the plush carpet underneath your back, the city lights illuminating his skin…

Hoseok inhaled.

You were wilder than what you looked and such information aroused him immensely.

“Lay back, honey.” He murmured, extracting three small squares of foil from his pocket and laying them on the coffee table.

Slowly, you lowered your back to the carpet while he kneeled close to you, your legs rotating so that your feet laid right in front of his knees, your legs bent and pressed together.

“That's nice, ____. Lovely,” he said before placing his hands on your knees. “Would you like to spread your pretty legs for me?” He asked, his fingers sliding down your thighs, reaching the hem of the dress.

You looked adorable once you demurely parted your feet to offer him some space between your knees, the hem of the dress moving closer to your lap.

His legs slotted between your thighs and he bent down, reaching for your face. “Such a good girl,” he praised you, cooing once he noticed your cheeks redden. “So adorable.”

On all fours on top of you, you felt the unique shape of his mouth draw your throat before giving a lick. “I bet you taste like strawberries all over.” He started kissing down your chest, rubbing his cheek against your small breasts. “You make me feel like a man starved,” he continued, kissing your stomach, your abdomen, laying one small peck on the fabric covering your belly button.

“Hoseok,” you whined, feeling his hands around your hips.

He stopped brusquely, his body entirely leaving yours. “Now, now, sweetie. What did you just call me?”

You batted your lashes as you stared at him in confusion. “Hoseok.”

“Okay. If you want to have sex with me, honey, that name will not do.”

You stared at him some more.

“I’m Sir,” he affirmed sternly. “The moment you get wet between your legs, I become Sir to you, understood?”

You nodded quickly, breath and brain completely stolen out of you.

“No nodding, my cute berry. Either ‘yes, Sir’ or ‘no, Sir’. Let’s try again. Is it clear what you must call me?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He grinned and kissed your belly again, just a bit lower. “That’s excellent. Well done, ____.”

You smiled and placed your hands on his hair, feeling the soft locks as he looked up at you.

He growled at that, your fingers naturally curling in fists as you brought them to your chest. “A very good girl indeed.”

You propped yourself up to your elbows once he lifted the skirt of your dress.

He could barely believe you. “Goodness.”

“At first I thought my dress was stuck on my underwear when you called me strawberry.”

Under the cutest, loveliest, most girlish dress he had ever seen, he was met by another adorable surprise. You were wearing a playful pair of ruffled panties in gingham print, with a small strawberry embroidered on your mound.

“You’re going to kill me,” he moaned, eyes closing before he dipped his head between your legs, studying the patch of wetness on the gusset of your panties, drawing a line from there to your clit, eliciting a moan. “You’re so sweet. And so evil at the same time.” He bit your inner thigh, making you wince. “Can’t believe that song predicted you on my carpet.”

You giggled and arched your hips against his face, your wetness meeting his cheek lewdly.

He inhaled you, completely intoxicated before he came back up, his arms caging your head. “You really rubbed yourself against my face, honey?” He asked with a stone cold expression.

You were afraid again, but that didn’t keep you pussy from clenching around nothing.

“Yes, Sir.” You replied, the respect in your voice nothing but a taunt.

“If you make a mess you gotta clean it, sweetie. Understood?” He asked, grabbing your face and angling his cheek to your mouth. “Clean it.”

“Please, Sir,” you mewled, trying to push your crotch against him, crying out once you noticed his body was too far away for you to find something to grind against.

“Clean after yourself. Now.”

You did as he told you, feeling the salty, bitter tang of your arousal transfer from his smooth skin to your tongue.

“All of it,” he muttered once you stopped after the first lick.

You completed your task, his pelvis lowering to yours as a reward. “There you go. Now thank me.”

Your arms moved around his torso, trying to get him closer, just to brush your chest against the soft, smooth satin of his shirt.

“I said, thank me.”

“Thank you, Sir.” You felt him cave immediately, giving you his hard and lithe body against your chest, your crotch, right in your arms as your legs wrapped around him. You felt crazy, grinding against him like a teenager, ridiculously reminded of how you used to go off by humping a pillow. “Please, inside,” you wailed, your sigh hitting his chest and disappearing underneath his shirt. Once you inhaled, his cologne felt like a bruising kiss, your hips meeting his harder, faster.

“You like my perfume?”

You nodded furiously.

Not again. He violently separated himself from you. “What did I tell you about replies?” He scolded you.

“I’m sorry, Sir.” You looked down with repentance. “I like your perfume very much, Sir.”

“That’s right. Good girl. Now, after I praise you, thank me.” He pushed your dress up as his hand dragged heavily from your crotch to your throat.

“Thank you, Sir,” you replied obediently, watching as he got on his knees and tugged his trousers down, the white boxers underneath surprising you as they outlined his length perfectly.

“You want it out?” He asked, watching as you sat up straighter and licked your lips.

You were almost ready to nod when you caught yourself, Hoseok smiling proudly once he saw you correct your behaviour. “I want it out, Sir.”

“Excellent.”

He lowered his underwear too, his cock standing erect immediately, it fluttered even straighter once you kept looking, your hands touching your breasts needily.

Hoseok stretched to the coffee table, grabbing a condom and tearing the foil open, sliding the latex on quickly and firmly.

“My cute berry, I need you to be very careful about this. You know what a safeword is?”

You shook your head. “No, Sir.”

He momentarily covered himself, needing to get all your focus on his words. “Safewords are what you use to communicate with your partner in a BDSM scene. A safeword means that you don’t like what is going on and you want to slow down or stop. We will use the traffic lights system. If you say ‘yellow’, I will slow down, if you say ‘red’, I will let go of you entirely and help you recover from whatever it was that hurt you, mentally, emotionally or physically. On the other hand, ‘green’ means that you’re okay and you are ready to get back into the scene after a ‘yellow’. If I ask you your colour, you reply with those. All clear?”

“All clear, Sir.”

He grinned proudly. “Then explain to me how it works.”

“If I want to slow down, I call ‘yellow’. If I want to stop, I call ‘red’. If I’m all good, I call ‘green’ — Sir.” You added for good measure, knowing that one too many wouldn’t hurt for sure.

“That’s my good girl.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

He smiled as he looked in your eyes. He knew he would remember you forever, even if he never developed any feelings for you. You were by far the most unique woman he’d ever had under him so far.

For a second he observed your cute, frilly undies, wondering if he wanted them off.

No. 

He took his cock out of his underwear, letting the waistbands of his trousers and boxers rest on his mid-thigh.

“Wanna keep these pretty panties on.” He murmured once he laid on top of you. “Tell me if the elastic band hurts you.” He said, moving the gusset aside and testing your wetness with his fingers, spreading the slickness over your folds. “So fucking soft. Dammit. Can't wait.”

He dipped his head against your neck. “You want it?”

“Yes, Sir.” You placed your hands on the small of his back, his eyes closing as he relished in your touch.

“Beg for it.” He murmured, dragging the tip up and down your slit.

You rolled your eyes. “No, Sir.”

“You won't beg?” He asked, looking at you.

You pouted. “Why do you want me to beg?” You asked with a frown.

“I need to know you want me, my sweet berry,” he pouted back. He touched your face giving you a few kisses to convince you. “I want to hear your sweet voice saying 'please', just one more time,” he whispered, feeling merciful, especially after all the ways he had already pushed you.

Your will bent to his. “Please.”

And just like that, his tip entered your warm, tight cunt, a moan exiting his mouth. “Yes, yes, ____. Yes, baby,” he groaned, at which you responded with a mewl.

“Hobi…” You cried, squeezing around him once he bottomed out.

“Don't make me punish you,” he murmured, exhaling raspily. “You've been such a good girl. Don't get naughty.”

“Sir, please.”

He started snapping his hips out, slowly, then in again, one inch at a time, so deep and slow, over and over. “Yes, baby. Tell me how good it feels.”

“It feels too good, Sir, I'm…”

He hummed in pleasure, feeling the skin of your neck under his lips. “Too good. My berry, you're so tiny and tight.” His hips trusted in quickly and unexpectedly.

“Holy… Sir, please, again, please.” You squealed, feeling his thumb slide your panties further aside to reach your clit.

He breathed out with effort against your ear as your mouth reached his earlobe. “Fuck, not there, Berry. Not there,” he said, tugging his ear out of your mouth.

“But Sir—,” you tried objecting before his pace became irresistible. While one hand reached the crown of his hair, holding him against you, the other one met his glute, your nails sinking in his flesh. Your breath started coming in short hiccups, leading you to your climax as he outright hammered into you, his back curved away while his forehead stayed glued to your neck.

“Am I fucking you right, ____? Is it good enough for my golden girl?” He growled once he felt you tightening around him more intensely, with longer squeezes.

“It's perfect, Sir. Thank you, Sir,” you reacted readily, shaking your head as pleasure started overpowering you, trying not to hurt him.

“Cum, my sweet berry. Show me.”

The hiccups of your breathing started turning in tiny whimpers, then squeals.

You were ready to bury your head in the ground and never come back because you knew what would come next.

The squeals turned into an uncontrolled cascade of giggles. Giggles.

Hoseok picked his head up at the curious sound, only to see your palm covering your mouth in an attempt to bottle the stupid reaction.

Hoseok smiled through gritted teeth, going faster, harder, deeper now that he understood that the sweet gurgling laugh was due to your orgasm peaking.

He pinned your hand away from your face, basking in the desperate joy of your bliss before he felt himself ready to blow.

“I'm gonna slide out now,” he warned, making sure that your high had faded and your body laid limp and drained underneath him.

Your body relaxed against the carpet, your eyes closed, your lungs still working hysterically to give you back some oxygen after the ruthless fit of giggles. You whimpered once you felt him pull out.

“Look at me, honey,” he called, making you prop your upper back on your elbows as you looked down, only to be met by the sight of Hoseok slipping off the condom. “Let me cum on your cute panties, mh? Can I? I promise I'm clean, I can show you the—”

“Do it,” you replied, giving him official permission.

“Really?”

“Really— I mean, yes, Sir.”

He smirked and started pumping himself furiously, his expression frantic as his tip pressed to your mound and he came apart, his hot seed drenching the red and white cotton, an animalistic growl making his whole chest shake.

You welcomed him in your arms once he collapsed on top of you, right hand smeared in slickness. “I’m gonna call you Giggles.” He said, kissing your mole, the precise spot where he could feel your blood run underneath the skin, the hollow just under your earlobe. “It was the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.”

You felt your whole body blush. “It’s so stupid but I can’t stop it.”

“Don’t stop it, it’s adorable.” He sniffed at your hair, “you still smell like strawberries.”

“Must be my shampoo.”

“Fuck. So good.” He sniffed some more. “I thought it would kill me earlier, by the fridge.”

“I thought you would kill me.” You said, feeling his neck with your lips. “Your perfume might be aphrodisiac.”

“You’re too tempting.” He chuckled. “I might need another round.”

“I can’t believe you actually fucked me on your living room carpet.” You said, combing his hair as he still regained his energies.

“Aren’t you happy?” He asked, suddenly panicked.

“No, I mean. I’m… I’m really happy. I’m just… incredulous that this is happening to me.” You replied with a surprised laugh.

“Maybe I should give it another go to make sure you actually understand what’s happening.”

“Would you mind helping me understand on the dinner table?” You batted your lashes cutely and paired that with an angelic smile.

“Are you even real?” He touched your face with his clean hand, giving you an inquisitive look. “You appear, all cute and innocent and then you want me to get you all dirty and filthy?”

Your smile widened. “The other ones were a bit scared by this side of me.”

“I won’t be scared of your needs, Giggles.”

You blushed again and hid your face.

“No hiding,” he reprimanded before rolling on his side, leaving you some room to obey the orders he was about to give you. “Keep giving me those sweet giggles,” he said, tracing your belly with his fingertips before trying to tickle you.

The effect was immediate. You clenched your legs and slapped his hands away from you, the torturing sound parting from your lips in a series of childlike gurgles. “Stop! I’m gonna mess up!” You screamed, trying not to stain your dress or the carpet. “No! No! Wait! Yellow!”

At that he took his hands off you immediately, your body laying on your back breathless.

“You good, Giggles?” He asked, voice drenched with worry.

You nodded, still panting.

“Can I take your clothes off?” He questioned, watching you move your head in confirmation.

“Okay.” He looked at your dress, trying to find a zipper. “Should I—”

“Start with my underwear, please?” You asked, your breath laboured due to arousal rather than exhaustion.

He nodded and licked his lips as he slowly tugged your panties down, careful about keeping his release from touching the carpet or your legs. Once the garment unhooked from your ankles, he folded it carefully to keep the wet fabric tucked in.

“Kneel, Giggles.”

You followed his command blindly, watching as your hands slid up under your skirt and tugged your dress up, his palms meeting your ribs and dragging the fabric upwards, past your breasts, then up against your armpits and backwards to your shoulder-blades, slipping the the neckline past your head.

Dress off, he let it fall distractedly to the floor, his eyes going from your face, to your hair, to your nipples — sinfully rosy — following the line leading from your breastbone to your belly button. He kissed the first piece of skin that met his lips, someplace where his heartbeat felt like a drum, like the bass coming from an old boom box. It was so comforting in a way he barely understood.

He needed room to think. “Get on the table.” His voice was once more stern and distant, especially once you watched him grab the opened foil containing the tied up condom, then stand up and leave.

You followed his direction nonetheless, standing awkwardly by the table, watching the cake and stealing a strawberry since the orgasm had awakened a certain sweet tooth in you. You dipped the strawberry in cream and brought it to your lips, relaxing just a little after you heard the water run in the kitchen.

He was probably washing his hands.

You took you time licking up the cream, only to start chomping down on the incredibly large fruit right after. That’s when Hoseok appeared.

He was shirtless now, the garment dangling from his spindly fingers before he laid it neatly against the back of the couch. You stopped mid-bite.

“Oh, don’t let me interrupt your snack, go on, honey.” He licked his lips and gave you a steamy look before going to the table and pocketing the condoms left. “Is it good?” He asked, walking to stand right in front of you.

You felt slightly unnerved as he seemed completely indifferent to your naked body.

“Sit on the table,” he ordered

You frowned and hesitated.

At that, he let his hands hover over your hips. “Shall I help you with it?” He asked, giving you the chance to avoid his touch before laying his fingertips delicately on your skin. “Gimme a colour, Giggles.”

“Maybe yellow.” You bit your lip, insecurity getting the best of you.

He moved his hands to your face, suddenly turning comforting. “Quick tip, my pretty berry.” He caressed your face in a way that made you feel way too at ease. “If it’s a ‘maybe yellow’, then it’s a yellow. How can I help you, ____?”

Your real name made you come down to earth. You shook your head and looked away, Hoseok suddenly scared of having gone too far.

“I’m not comfortable with the way I let you control me, maybe.” Which was not entirely true. You were not comfortable with the way you craved his control after spending maybe four hours with him — including the afternoon he entered the vet studio with Mickey in his arms and a hopeless, lost look on his face.

“It’s all up to you, ____. I know it’s a cliché thing to say, but the answer is really within yourself. I can’t make you more comfortable with how you feel,” he said, still not even considering your nakedness in front of him.

In such a moment his indifference was welcome.

You looked down, your hands disappearing into your hair. Maybe this was the only night you were granted. Did you really want it to end already?

He did not touch you as you mulled over every option.

“I’m… I’m not— We’re technically strangers, I shouldn’t be trusting you like this, you shouldn’t be trusting me like this either, I mean this is all so— all so twisted and wicked and fast and—”

Hoseok was ready for reality to slap him across the face. He was ready for your regrets and you walking to your dress on the floor and cursing your messed up panties which you most definitely could not wear to go back home. He was ready for you to call what you did a mistake and say that there was no way for a woman like you to be with a man like him.

“My mind tells me I shouldn’t, but I want it so much.”

He lifted his eyes from the floor, finally finding the courage to meet yours.

“I’m sorry, that’s not true. I’m comfortable with the way you control me.” Slowly you took a step back, your ass meeting the surface of the table. “I’m just questioning what that means to me.”

He nodded. It explained a lot about your innocent, greedy approach to sex. You were exploring and you had found something you didn’t expect to even remotely consider.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You shook your head and sat on the table. “No, Sir.”

His eyebrows shot up before he regained his composure. “Colour.”

You allowed yourself to stare at his chest. He was so well-built. Harmonious. He looked like a painting. “Green. Very deep, dark green. Sir.”

He took a step closer. “Green?”

“Forest green. As green as a clover.” You felt his hand on your belly, dragging against your skin all the way to your throat, pushing you down as you lowered yourself on your elbows.

“If you feel uncomfortable emotionally or mentally speaking, you call a yellow. Please, promise me you’ll be very careful about it, Giggles. I care about your mindspace. It means everything to me.”

“I promise, Sir.”

He removed his hand from your throat and placed it against your cheek, placing a chaste kiss on your lips once he bent over you. “You’re talking to Hoseok right now, ____. Promise me you’ll keep an eye on how your mind’s doing. Promise it.”

You kissed him back, closing your eyes once his tongue caressed and molded against yours. Breathless, you parted from him. “I promise, Hobi.”

“I don’t want you to regret anything about tonight. It would break my heart, okay?”

Your eyes widened in surprise before you nodded. “I’ll take care. I promise.”

“Good girl. Now stay right there, lovely. Look what I got for you.” He found the cake, placed carefully away from your laying body. Skillfully, he dipped a strawberry in cream and brought it to your lips, dragging the tip of the fruit across them like lipstick.

He bent down and licked a fat stripe following the seam of your mouth, only to repeat the gesture once more; however, this time you let your tongue lash out and tangle up with his, the strawberry held away from you, trying not to catch it in your hair.

“Open up,” he commanded, pushing the treat past your lips, into your eager mouth. “Suck. Now.”

Your gaze became bubbly once more as you followed his lead, your cheeks sucked in at the pressure you were making with your mouth, the strawberry emerging completely clean from your mouth.

He smirked at the sigh, arching an eyebrow at the result. “You make it hard not to push my cock in your mouth.”

“Maybe that’s what I want you to do.” You raised an eyebrow right back at him, getting cocky.

“Not happening. I wanna hear that laugh again, Giggles.” Tentatively, he gave a small slap to your breast, surprising you and making you arch your back, gasping in pleasure. Your legs tightened around him, trying to clench your thighs shut at the feeling of arousal slipping out of your hole and sliding down to your behind. “And don’t you dare be a brat to me. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir.” Your voice was squeaky once you managed to reply.

“Did you like it, Giggles?”

The treacherous sound escaped your mouth once more as you nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, Sir.”

You wondered if you would ever get tired at the reply. You doubted it very highly.

“Let’s see if you like this too,” he mused before pouring more champagne in a glass and dipping the strawberry in the wine. He fixed his stance between your legs. “Remember our safewords?”

You confirmed before he lifted the strawberry and let a droplet fall right in the middle of your chest, splashing heavy and wet on your skin. Cold too.

“I’m going to make you my dessert, my pretty strawberry. Remember? Strawberries go well with champagne, lovely.”

He let one more drop fall to your breast, your breath stopping completely at the coldness, Hoseok’s eyes amused at the sight of your nipple awakening and hardening, lengthening even. It became impossibly rosier as another drop fell.

It felt stupid not to repeat the same treatment to your other nipple, which responded twice as quickly now that arousal was abundantly flowing through every single inch of you.

The strawberry drew a neat line of champagne pearls from your belly, which you sucked in at the cold, all the way up to your neck — a line that Hoseok followed with his mouth, letting his tongue stretch out of the way whenever a droplet rolled out of place.

He let the strawberry fall into the glass, extracting the condoms from his pocket and placing them on the table before taking off the rest of his clothes. He tugged at himself a couple times, getting hard enough to wear a condom.

His hands were going to get dirty, therefore he had no other options than getting ready very quickly.

“Giggles?”

“Yes? I mean, yes, Sir?” You corrected yourself in a millisecond, not wanting to risk another delay in your pleasure.

“I’m going to get really dirty now, lovely. Would you be okay with showering here?”

You let your lashes flutter a few times before nodding.

He gave a curt nod in reply before wearing protection and letting his cock rub against your crotch. His body stretched over yours, his thumb collecting a dollop of cream and dividing it with his other thumb. You observed his movements attentively as his clean fingers laid against the side of your breasts and his thumbs landed on your nipples.

Your mouth opened silently once the sensation flowed in, his digits starting a rolling motion over your peaks, playing them in small circles that innocently reminded you of a joystick.

“Colour.”

“So, so green. Can I have a blue for mind blowing good.” You tried to pick your head up, letting it thud back down once his cock dragged perfectly against your clit, eliciting a purr from your throat and a groan from his, his sex perfectly sandwiched between your and his belly.

“Blue— I— ” He talked in small babbles and hiccups. “I get what you— ah— what you mean.” His forehead met your collarbone.

He found unspeakable strength and managed to rise from your breasts, collecting half a handful of cream spreading it over his entire palms and fingers like lotion before grabbing your breasts and kneading them, his hands dwarfing them entirely.

“Sir, please, I need your cock,” you found yourself ridiculously begging, ready to hump anything that met your core.

“Slip it in for me, Giggles.”

The moment he got inside, you didn’t even try to keep it down, riding him no matter the difficult position or the awkward angle. You let your hands scratch down his chest and grip his arms — and he allowed you.

You were getting more and more unhinged and he wanted to see every little detail, every little second, every single step that brought you to bliss and ruination, giggling like you’d never been half as ecstatic in your life. His hands slipped and groped your gentle curves, his mind growing hazier by the second.

All his control came back once he noticed your legs leaving the ground, as you scooted back just by a few inches, your calves latching behind his back before you shook your head.

“What?” He asked, bending his arms to get closer to you.

“Position. It’s…” The soles of your feet met the edge of the table, your hands securing your legs in position before you felt your hips hurt.

“Bend them to your shoulders,” he suggested, helping you fix your knees with his elbows. “Good. Can you touch yourself for me, Giggles.”

You obeyed without even replying, feeling him groan as the new position allowed him to reach deeper and rub your g-spot in the process.

That’s when the squealing started. And then there it was, pleasure. Right before you.

“Give me all the giggles, my sweet berry,” he cooed, nodding and smiling once the soft laugh started.

He let himself grow wild, his fingers sliding to your neck, gripping it gently before he led them against your chin and into your mouth, bathing your tongue in cream — or rather, what was left of it.

The other hand secured your waist, using it for leverage as he rammed into you, pushing his cock in your cunt, constricting it after the muscles remained tense after the orgasm.

This time he came inside you, still covered in latex, but inside you.

He was too fucked out to think of how you would feel without a condom, too fucked out to care that he was pressing his mouth — fuck, his entire face — against your dirty chest, getting his hair sticky with cream, his cheeks and chin and nose and eyes and forehead… His mouth welcomed the sweetness, sucking at your skin before his tongue came out to lap at the sugary mess. He was too lost to care, sinking deep and staying perfectly still as he enjoyed every second of his high inside your most intimate place.

You came to your senses just in time to watch him process the situation he was in.

“Oh, hell.” He rose from the table, standing up, looking at you, at his hands, running the back of them against his cheeks before shaking his head. “Doesn’t matter.” He settled down again, your legs wrapping around him.

“Are you okay?” You asked him, rubbing your palm against his spine.

He hummed in confirmation. “Are you?”

“Yeah.” You mussed up the hair at his nape.

He licked up your nipple, catching it with his lips and suctioning it into his mouth.

You closed your eyes and enjoyed the cuddles. From the exhaustion radiating from his body and the overall disaster you both were, you knew your night was over.

“Can I go clean up please? It’s getting chilly.” You asked, using the excuse to get some space to yourself.

He stood slowly, slipping out of you attentively. He took off the condom, completely lost in his silence, knotted it up and kept it carefully between his fingers as he slipped on his underwear. “Let me show you the bathroom.”

Once he showed you the way, you let him understand you didn’t want him to shower with you.

Feeling the scent of his body wash cover your skin was painful now. You tried to indent the name in your mind and hoped it wasn’t too expensive. Once you managed to exit the shower stall, you dabbed your body dry, realising too late that you hadn’t brought your dress with you.

You wrapped the towel around you and opened the door, walking out once you were sure you wouldn’t drip over the floor.

“Hoseok?” You called.

Once you reached the living room, you found your dress, slipping it on and realising a second too late that your panties had disappeared.

“Giggles?” Hoseok appeared from the corridor, still shirtless, with a pair of bermuda on.

“Uhm… I should… Go, I guess?” You said, staring at the floor awkwardly. “I…”

Hoseok felt fear grip him once he thought this could be the last time he would see you.

“Wait. I—” He stretched his hand toward you. “I think— Uhm, underwear. Since I messed up yours.” He rubbed his nape. “I could wash your… panties and return them to you… Next Friday?” He looked up at you with a sheepish smile. “Over fried chicken and a chill dress code?”

Your cheeks shot up as you felt yourself smile. “So this is not a one time thing?”

“Absolutely not.”

You nodded, increasingly convinced.

You gingerly wore his boxers, noticing they were relatively comfortable on you, the cotton breezy and light, definitely soft over your abused skin. “Then I’ll return these on Friday. Over fried chicken and chill dress code. And maybe my peach frilly undies?”

“It’s a deal then, Giggles.”

“Deal.”

#jung hoseok x reader #hoseok x yn #hoseok smut #jhope smut #thetruthuntoldnet #houseofddaeng #bangtansorciere #thebtswritersclub

[strawberrysoup]

Pocketful of Posies || Chapter 4

You’d been hiding for years and years now; from your family, from society, from alphas and packs. Suppressants were dangerous but effective and necessary for an omega who refused to be owned—but no suppressants were strong enough to fool the nose of a super soldier, who together with his pack would stop at nothing to bind you to them forever. 

pairings: dark!Avengers x reader chapters: 4/? status: WIP warnings: A/B/O dynamics, power imbalances, noncon and dubcon sexual situations, loss of autonomy, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat — this is a dark!fic, read at your own risk. not beta read (AKA there may be additional changes)

hey guys! i made a ko-fi! if you enjoy this and have some cash you could spare to help me out with my bills, id really appreciate it!

You wondered idly at his eyes, glancing between the brown and the blue with the kind of intent that betrayed the anxiety welling in your chest. His hair was short too, the last time you’d seen him in the papers it had been long. He was incredibly, uncomfortably handsome and your heart pounded, that stupid bitch lurking in your hindbrain was practically preening under his stare.

“Are you coming back to me little love?” He asked softly, frowning when you flinched back—you were so traumatized, the alpha couldn’t imagine what had happened to you, “focus on me now.”

“Her eyes clear?” Peter’s voice echoed slightly, coming from above, “they were so cloudy earlier.”

“Much clearer,” the blue eye and the brown eye crinkled at the corners, the blond smiling down at you in his arms as he made his way up a set of stairs, “I’d wager you’re even listening to me by this point.”

“Everyone needs to go through their clothes and pick out some things to offer up for the nest,” Steve didn’t sound like he was talking to anyone, rather to the room at large, but the prime’s voice coming from further than Peter’s, “she’ll need lots of options, we might have to fix them up for the first few weeks.”

“How is your nest building instinct, my love?” Thor rumbled, the sound traveling through his chest and vibrating down to your bones, “hopefully better than your submissive instinct, hm?”

There was a snorted laugh you couldn’t ascribe to anyone in particular and the whole thing made you bristle, every hair on your body was standing on end. Did they think it was funny? You were shattering into pieces, shards swept into a hurricane and scattered. You weren’t wearing your own clothes, your own skin didn’t smell right. Everything was wrong, sitting 10° off the proper axis. The thoughts spiraled —they would find all of your suppressant stashes, all of your weapons, the few things you’d taken when you ran away from home. Every second you spent in this house, your odds of escape plummeted.

You were transferred to a different pair of massive arms, Steve carefully restraining yours to your sides when you started to squirm and hushing you softly, “shh, precious, you’re okay. Let’s get you settled in. Thor, Nat just texted Carol that she and Clint should be here in the next half hour. Any ideas on Loki?”

The surface he laid you on was one of the softest things you’d ever felt. Your body practically melted over the ultra-comfortable mattress, white noise filling your brain with static for several long moments. When you came too, you instinctively inhaled deeply through your nose before yawning so hard your jaw cracked. If only there wasn’t a fucking alpha prime laying on his side directly next to you, one arm settled with a comforting pressure over your waist while the other propped his head up, you’d be quite comfortable.

A sudden flash of light jolted you from your fuzzy state, sitting upright abruptly only for the blond to firmly and smoothly force your back to the mattress again. His fingers traced swirls into the skin of your waist while he shushed you and you winced when his hand travelled higher over your ribs, thumb brushing a goosebump inducing arc over your flesh.

“S-stop,” your voice cracked as you reached down, pressing firmly against his arm—blood draining from your face as you realized his arm kept the hem of the oversized shirt you wore pulled far over your waist, “oh my God, get off—”

“Loki should be here shortly, I contacted him just after she ran out of the lab,” Thor stated from where he stood at the edge of what you realized was a bed the size of most bedrooms.

It was built into the floor in the corner of the room, a sea of pillows scattered across the surface and mixed in with blankets and sheets. It smelled—you realized you felt lightheaded almost, surrounded by the scent of the two alpha primes and their entire pack, it smelled so overwhelming. The back of your mind screamed that it smelled good, it smelled painfully and damningly good.

“I brought up some bags.”

Your head snapped to the stairs, watching a man with short brown hair come into view. He was shorter than Steve or Thor but still taller than Peter, built similarly to the finely toned young alpha. There was no extra bulk to the man, although you could see the bulge of his muscles through his long sleeved shirt. A delta, you would guess at a distance; there was plenty of dominance in his stance, but the he looked built to seduce rather than restrain.

Steve’s arm tightened around your torso, fingers carefully cupping the curve of your ribcage and pressing you more firmly into the bed. The prime was all too obviously meant to restrain, especially as he shifted, manipulating your uncooperative limbs until you were cradled in his lap while he sat against the wall behind the bed. His grasp was so entirely inflexible that you wondered what his bones were made of, his muscles—he didn’t strain for a moment, not even when you attempted to throw your entire body weight to the side.

“Any of those got a collar in ‘em, Buck?”

The prime’s hand came down over your mouth just seconds before you shrieked. The muffled noise sent shivers down the spines of the alphas in the room, the one holding you no exception. It wasn’t sufficient though, the pitch was critical to the sound’s efficacy and you couldn’t reach the proper volume. Lips pressed firmly into the side of your head, Steve still holding you so carefully you could barely move.

“Got a couple, here,” the brunet man, Buck, dug through the plastic shopping bags he’d set on the floor near the wall.

“Hey, hey, come on baby,” Peter had an obvious and serious aversion to your discomfort, emphasized by the way he quickly slipped onto the bed and plastered himself against Steve’s side so that he could wrap his arms around you, “they’re not choke or shock or spike collars, I promise they’re just pretty omega collars Bucky and Carol picked out. You’ll feel so much safer with a collar on, omega. Just hold still.”

The shift from Steve holding you down to Peter was almost unnoticeable, a shocking revelation. You swore you could sit on the kid and he’d end up a pancake, there was no way he should be able to hold you in place while you tried to thrash. One of his legs crossed over yours in Steve’s lap, the young alpha contorting you both until your forehead touched his and your body was curled with your neck extended. The hand over your mouth shifted and the scents changed, the newest addition belonging to the delta who must’ve been on the bed behind you.

“Here you go doll,” his voice was gravelly, a strange tone that sounded almost underused with a very slight burr that reminded you of an alpha’s purr—minus the calming pheromones.

“In the meantime,” Thor joined the crowd on the bed, shifting to settle just to Peter’s right and carefully avoiding Steve’s outstretched legs, “No shrieking, little love.”

The alpha command washed over you like tar, your chest seizing. Your vocal cords felt suspended, the more you tried to shriek the more painful the sensation got. The hand that hand been over your mouth slipped down to your chin, tipping your head back carefully as leather circled your neck. A reedy, whistling whine escaped your lips and Peter’s cheek was immediately rubbing against your face, down your neck and over the collar being tightened around your throat. He was scenting you, trying to provide comfort by drenching your skin with a protective perfume.

“Oh baby don’t make that sound,” he murmured, lips brushing over your face as the others shifted around the pair of you, “it’s for your own good, omega—”

“No!” Your voice rasped with the cry, “get it off! I won’t stay here, I won’t—”

“Regulate your breathing, precious, the collar will make you feel more secure,” in the shift Steve had ended up with you sitting on the bed between his legs, his ankles crossed to trap your lower body tightly while his fingers twined with yours to restrain your arms, “maybe it needs to be tighter? Bucky, is it pressing the hormone glands firmly enough?”

There was some shuffling and mumbling and you whined as the collar got a notch tighter, only slightly restricting your breathing. It was just this side of uncomfortable, walking the edge of distressing and you were forced to quickly calm your frantic breaths lest you hyperventilate—there was no telling what they’d do if you passed out, if you couldn’t control your breathing and fainted. You could feel the leather pressing the nodes on either side of your neck, causing a reaction that pumped your body full of chemicals. They were meant to induce intimacy and trust in an omega while alleviating stress, the constant oxytocin and endorphin production that flooded the system resulting in a low-grade addiction. Or so you’d hypothesized.

Omega physiology was a trash compactor of undesirable traits but the hormone set up was abhorrent, the limbic system an evolutionary disaster—two pituitary glands, two scent glands, and the thyroid were all located in the neck, the hypothalamus in the brain with the hippocampus and amygdala. You didn’t know the history of the collars, you didn’t have a head for timelines, but you knew that omega subjugation wouldn’t be so easy or convenient without them. It was like long term sedation with highly addictive chemicals; omegas didn’t stand a chance when their own body’s chemistry was used against them.

“This is inhumane,” you managed to choke out, between the rage and fear and high the collar caused you could barely keep your teeth from chattering, “I’m a human being, of sound mind—I can think for myself and protect myself­—I don’t need or want a pack, I don’t—fuck, please listen to me!”

Your voice was weak and raspy, no wonder the omegas you always saw were so docile; your breathing was somewhat restricted, your vocal cords unable to reach full range. Even if Thor hadn’t given an alpha order you wouldn’t have been able to shriek, speaking was exhausting. The command would wear off in an hour or two and it wouldn’t even make a difference. How were you supposed to argue your suitability for autonomy if you couldn’t talk?

“Of course you’re of sound mind, love—”

“No, shut up!” You croaked, eyes flashing to Thor’s surprised face, “listen. Would you treat a beta this way? If I was any other presentation this behavior would be abhorrent—it would be illegal! Please, you’re superheros aren’t you? Be rational, for a moment, please!”

You didn’t realize Bruce had joined the group in the attic until he spoke, “betas don’t have a physiological requirement for physical contact with other presentations, sweetheart.”

A green light went off in your brain, a shine in your eyes as you looked at the doctor, “w-wait, wait I would argue—” your voice cut out for a second and you cleared your throat the best you could, desperation sitting in your stomach, “I would argue that your wording is inherently biased. Omegas don’t have a physiological requirement for contact with other presentations; their bodies require chemicals that it doesn’t naturally produce, the same way we require amino acids to survive—”

“You know your stuff, don’t you princess? Where’d you go to school?” Tony Stark emerged into the attic, still wearing the immaculately pressed suit he’d been in earlier, “you know, before you dropped out and went into hiding.”

“It’s disrespectful to interrupt someone when they’re speaking, you duplicitous bastard,” you spat, the presence of yet another delta setting your teeth on edge.

“Oh yeah, hey Buck did you meet y/n? She really hates deltas,” he was grinning, the asshole.

“Is y/n your real name, sweetheart?” Bruce asked, tossing Tony a stern look, “We found several IDs in your things, all different names. The contract we got from the cleaning agency listed your name as y/n.”

It took you a moment to think through the question—and another minute after that to remember which name you used while in Ontario. You real first name, fake last name. Fake age, maybe? Or was that the Quebec ID? Did your real name even matter at this point? It had been so long since it had meant anything to you (other than being the easiest name to respond to properly, but you could train yourself to answer to anything).

“My name is inconsequential,” you finally responded, eyebrows furrowing, “we’re debating the ethics of kidnapping people, remember?”

“That sounds like biased wording if I’ve ever heard it,” Stark snorted, “try preventing a vulnerable omega from being killed in the streets.”

“Over dramatic, no basis for fact, denied,” you snapped angrily, quickly turning your attention to Bruce, “come on, listen man! You’re subjugating the entire omega population based on inherently incorrect medical assumptions from two hundred years ago or something! The only scientific causation between modern omega theory and actual omega statistics is that the overall population of omegas has dropped dramatically since the induction of Omega Law!”

“There’s no proof that’s causation, sweetheart,” Bruce’s arms were crossed over his chest, “the odds lie in the favour of correlation.”

“We would know if any studies had been done! There have been less than twenty official studies regarding omega biology in the last ten years!” Begging—you were begging, you could hear it, “there haven’t been any studies done regarding the effects of the other presentation’s interference in omega behavior on their physiology! We know more about Olinguitos than we do omega’s chemistry and those’ve only existed in main stream science circles for the last six years!”

“You need to calm down omega,” Steve’s voice was one octave away from a purr, “you’re getting frantic and your heart rate is through the roof. You’re going to hyperventilate.”

“Y’all think she might be more comfortable if she wasn’t being surrounded on all sides by strangers?” Sam asked sarcastically from the stairway as he came up with a tray, his facial expression riding the fence between irritated and amused, “Peter, Bucky, back up guys. Thor, you really gotta be right there when Steve’s got the poor thing completely restrained?”

Hope was like a gut punch, bile rushing up your throat only for you to swallow it back down—gulping with the collar around your neck caused enough discomfort that you realized eating was going to be difficult. Your eyes locked on Sam as the bodies around you shuffled once again. Bucky and Peter both slipped off the bed, the young alpha sulking while the delta calmly returned to the bags he’d left sitting in the corner. Thor wasn’t so gracious as to outright back off, but he did scoot about a foot back on the bed.

“Alright sweetheart, first things first, are you hungry? Dinner’s gonna be about an hour so I brought up some snacks. If Steve let’s go of you, do you promise not to try to run off?” The man approached the edge of the bed, holding the tray against his hip, “we can have a discussion.”

Suspicion lanced through you, there was no way the offer was as innocent as it seemed. Most of the time engaging with people who wanted to have discussions didn’t go well but you weren’t sure what your alternative option was. There was no reason to test their patience at this point so you nodded slowly, feeling Steve’s chest press into your back as he sighed. He lifted you carefully and set you down onto the mattress, far more gracefully than any alpha prime had the right to be as he climbed off the bed.

“Now can at least some of you get out?” The alpha turned to stare back at his packmates still cluttering the attic, “please?”

They were all still for several seconds before Thor and Steve exchanged a heavy glance and both nodded, turning respectfully and walking down the stairs—another shocking display that made your heart stutter. An alpha prime silently acquiescing to the request of an alpha in front of their pack, signaling that others should follow, was a sign of an incredibly strong pack. It meant strong, competent leadership, respect, and consideration. Too bad they still considered you little more than an animal.

Bucky and Peter followed with mournful back glances, Tony moving to join them looking more exasperated than saddened. Bruce went to follow but you immediately felt a prospect of hope leaving with him.

“W-Wait, Bruce—right? Bruce, you’re rational, a scientist? Please, stay, let me debate this with you—”

“Hey! I’m a scientist too! I have PhDs!” Stark balked immediately, tossing his hands up as if to emphasize the aggravation her attitude was causing.

“Tony, don’t—”

“No, you stay too!” You cut Sam off when the alpha began to admonish his pack mate, “you’re an asshole but you understand fucking logic, I’ll take it.”

“What about me?” Peter squeezed eagerly back onto the landing, “I have three masters and—”

“Peter no, no more alphas in here please,” Sam stared the younger alpha down for just a moment with a stern eye, “please?”

Peter groaned but turned back, trudging down the stairs like a teenager. The air felt clearer when all that was left in the room was a three people other than yourself, the two scientists and the alpha. Part of you felt increasingly panicked, as if somehow the quiet setting was more ominous than the previous. The other part of you realized that this particular group was far less likely to violate you while you sat half naked on a bed than the others.

“Okay now,” Sam toed off his shoes before stepping onto the bed, carefully bringing the tray with him to set on your lap before he sat down, “let’s slow down for a few minutes. I know I don’t understand what you’re going through, but my little sister is an omega so I do have a little more knowledge than most of the pack. Why don’t you tell me what’s going on from your perspective.”

Burning frustration lit a path down your spine—this alpha might’ve seen omegas as more than pets, but he certainly spoke down to you like you were an irrational child. Why don’t you tell me what��s going on from your perspective?

“From my perspective I’ve been assaulted and terrorized and falsely imprisoned for I don’t know how long now!” You spat, practically vibrating in irritation, “you’re trying to justify this treatment because I’m an omega but my designation doesn’t mean I deserve to be treated like something to be caught and stolen! I want to leave, I want this horrible collar off my neck, and I want my stuff back! And if you tell me to calm down, so help me God—”

Sam’s mouth snapped shut from where he’d started to speak, immediately folding his hands into his lap and clearing his throat, “right, no telling you to calm down. Got it. Now, where are you from?”

“Doesn’t matter,” you grit your teeth slightly when the alpha sighed, “I want to leave, now.”

“You can’t leave sweetheart, not unless we get everything figured out. If you have an alpha, we’ll need to get you back to them. If you don’t, we certainly can’t just let you go back off on your own—it’s way too dangerous.”

“No it isn’t, I’ve been on my own for years and I’m fine! Not once have I had any problems, not until now!”

“Yeah, unfortunately for you our beta here has an alpha rage monster inside of him who managed to catch your scent beneath the suppressants,” Tony looked almost proud as he slung his arm over the beta’s shoulders, tugging him slightly, “if Bruce didn’t tip off Steve, who knows if he would’ve caught it.”

“Wow—Jesus Christ, you make me want to punch you in the face,” you snarled, hands clenching into fists in your lap, “I’m not a helpless omega, I’ve been happy, do you understand that? Do you know how rare it is for an omega to get to be happy? It’s like winning the lottery. Please, I like being happy. Please just let me go.”

“Sweetheart it isn’t rare for omegas to be happy,” Sam was frowning like you’d dropped a suicide note on his lip, “there are so few of them, they’re taken care of like royalty, baby.”

“Plus, omegas in packs are statistically less likely to suffer mental illness—”

“God, would you shut up about that?” Bruce’s eyes went wide when you snapped at him, “that study was trash, the bias was overwhelming and it hasn’t been replicated since. Omegas in packs wear collars that force their bodies to over produce oxytocin and when that’s removed they go insane from withdrawals. The same happens with the chemicals produced by the other presentations’ pheromones; instead of being given supplements to make up for the absence omega’s bodies are left to wilt. It has everything to do with medical malpractice and nothing to do with omega nature! There’s nothing happy about that!”

“Look, there are obviously places where the known biology of omega’s has holes,” Stark admitted, one hand in his pocket while the other was held aloft, “There’s a lot we don’t know, but what we do know is that when omegas are left to their own devices they end up dead.”

“They end up kidnapped, raped, and forcibly bonded by alphas!” If the collar had allowed the pitch you would’ve been shrieking, “By alphas who’s packs rape and bond the omegas, too. The only danger to omegas are the other presentations!”

“That’s why they have to be protected,” Sam emphasized his words with a dose of calming pheromones, and you snarled.

“Stop trying to manipulate me! All your doing is inhibiting my ability to think and feel for myself—do you not see how cruel and insane that is? That you’re literally attempting to—”

“This is a lot of ROR rhetoric,” Bruce sighed quietly, obviously aiming his words to Tony but you picked it up.

“There’s no such thing as ‘radical’ omega’s rights! We just want to be allowed to exist without our lives and hormones being constantly controlled by outside forces that we never chose!” Your voice broke towards the end and you realized tears were welling in your eyes—this conversation was not going your way and hope was dwindling rapidly, “why is that so hard to understand? That chemically controlling another human being is inhumane?”

“Alright, alright, let’s take a second and calm down,” Sam requested sternly, eyes widening when you immediately hissed, “Not just you, ‘mega. Everyone, including me, okay?”

It was truly a battle to fight down the ire rising in your throat, nearly choking you at the collar. You wondered cruelly if he’d treated his sister like she was an infant her entire life, if this was his bedside manner for omegas. The poor thing was probably so addicted to oxytocin she was barely alive.

“Please, let me go,” you begged quietly, squeezing your eyes shut against the tears, “if you have any humanity in you, let me go.”

When you looked up at him again, the doleful look on his face made your heart crumble to pieces.

“Lots of omegas are apprehensive at first, baby,” his voice was gentle, low and forlorn, “when you first present… my sister was seventeen. She was in so much pain and she begged for help, for almost a full week. When she came out of it she could barely remember how bad it had been but we remembered. The agony she’d suffered because she didn’t have an alpha through the process—we couldn’t let that happen over and over again, could we? As her packmates how could we let her endure that? She was upset at first, but now she has a pack that waits on her hand and foot, a whole slew of babies, anything she could ever ask for at her fingertips.”

“She was upset at first,” your heart broke for Sam’s sister, where ever she was, “you realize she was only able to be upset at first, right? Because after a while, she probably stopped being able to process the usual scale of emotion she enjoyed before you allowed her to be given a chemical lobotomy and sold her off—seventeen, God, she never even got to live and you’re talking about her like she’s some sort of success story?”

The look in the man’s brown eyes was getting darker and darker the longer you spoke but a dam had broke and your mouth kept moving, hoarse sounds barking borderline cruel words in fast succession.  

“I hope her ability to feel betrayal went first so she didn’t have to deal with the memory of her family auctioning her off like fucking cattle. Success story,” you scoffed, lips lifted in a fang flashing snarl, “that wasn’t a fucking success story you knottedheaded piece of shit, it was a cautionary tale.”

#avengers x reader #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #sam wilson x reader #tony stark x reader #carol danvers x reader #clint barton x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #bruce banner x reader #thor x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #dark!avengers #dark!avengers x reader #abo dynamics #pocketful of posies

[shuadotcom]

Read Your Mind | KTH (M)

♦ Summary: You just want to find your friends and enjoy the party, but instead you find out that maybe you aren’t where you’re supposed to be.

♦ Pairing: Vampire!Taehyung x Human Female!Reader

♦ Genre: Vampire AU, supernatural AU

♦ Rating: NC17

♦ Warnings: Cursing, teasing, implied sex

♦ Word Count: 2.9k

♦ A/N: For @btsholidaybingo​​ | Bing Square: Vampire | Songspo: Read Your Mind - Avant

This has been 98% done for weeks, but I couldn’t write a proper ending for the life of me. Huge, giant thank you to Mars (@joheun-saram​) and Danna (@unoriginal-username15432​​) for beta reading this and helping me try and scrounge up an ending I didn’t hate! ❤️❤️

You can swear that Mingyu texted you the right address. The house number on your phone clearly reads 1230, which matches the numbers on the beige paneled house in front of you. The street is quite dark for it to be nearly 10:30 pm on Halloween night, but the music is loud enough that you can hear it from the sidewalk.

You glance at your texts once more and make your way up to the porch, music blaring as soon as you open the door. The inside of the house is not as dark as it looked from the outside, but it’s still dim, and there aren’t enough lights. Surprisingly, it doesn't smell like cheap beer and weed, which you’re used to smelling, having been to many house parties. Instead, the air is reminiscent of burning incense and something that you can only describe as a coppery scent.

Squinting, you see if you can recognize any of the nearby faces, but you can’t place a name to anyone around you. You pull your phone out of your clutch and shoot a quick text message to the group chat to see where your friends are.

Y/n: Hellooooooo I just walked in. Where are you losers?

Mingyu: Wow and only an hour and a half late

Wonwoo: We’re in the kitchen

Vernon: I will literally down all of these jell-o shots if you don’t get your ass in here

Y/n: IF THAT INCLUDES THE CHERRY ONES I WILL END YOU CHWE 😡

Vernon: 🍒👅

Y/n: 🔪🔪

With nothing but cherry jell-o and strangling your friend on your mind, you miss the multiple sets of eyes staring at you until you put your phone away. A group of costumed party-goers is watching your every move from where they’re standing near the staircase. At least two of them have glowing red contacts, which doesn’t help your unease. Eager to leave, your eyes scan the room, and you decide to venture to the left of the house, away from most of the crowd.

Upon reaching the kitchen, you don’t see Mingyu, Vernon, or any of your other friends. The kitchen itself is empty altogether. After sending a quick text telling your friends to stop fucking with you, you decide a drink is in order.

A quick survey of the dismal spread tells you your only options are clear bottles of red wine and a punch bowl of what you can only assume is jungle juice or another alcoholic punch concoction.

Deciding on the punch, you ladle yourself a cup. It’s oddly thick when you scoop it, and it drips instead of pours into your plastic cup. Taking a sniff, you notice it’s the same coppery smell that got your attention when you first walked in. Up close, the scent makes you gag, and you recoil. What the fuck is in this drink?

Before you can take a cautionary sip, the sense of a presence has you halting and whipping around, only to knock into the solid body that appeared behind you. Two sturdy arms belonging to the man who caught you wrap around your waist, keeping you from busting your ass completely.

“Shit, I’m so sorry!” You laugh awkwardly and try to remove yourself from his arms, but his grip is much stronger than yours.

“No need to apologize, doll. It’s an honor to be this close to you.” You narrow your eyes at him. Something about his tone is off, and you don’t like it. With a quick survey of him, you see that admittedly, he’s extremely good looking. Between his dark, curly hair, thick thighs, and tattoos peeking through the sheer sleeve of his grey shirt, he’s definitely your type, but again, something is off, and you can’t pinpoint it. Even in a bunny-eared headband and a painted-on pink nose, it doesn’t seem right to be here with him like this.

“Well, uh, thank you,” Again, you attempt to wiggle out of his hold, but instead, he pulls you closer, burying his nose into your neck. “What the f-”

“Do you have any idea how divine you smell?”

“Thank you? Look, just l-let me g-go,” A sudden fuzzy sensation takes over your body, and your ability to form coherent sentences seems harder than earlier. You hadn’t even taken a sip of punch, so you know it can’t be that.

The mystery bunny man uses your lethargy to his advantage and places a few kisses on your neck. His lips are cold and send a chill through your body. You want to shove him away, but your mind is hazy.

“This’ll only hurt a bit, doll, but you’ll like it, I promise,” he murmurs into your skin. Your mouth won’t let you ask what he means, but then you feel the sharpness of his teeth grazing your skin. Your brain is screaming, but no sound leaves your lips. This is wrong. Very, very wrong. Are you seriously about to be bitten by a vampire?

“Jungkook, what do you think you’re doing?” A deep voice ringing out through the kitchen has the man you now know as Jungkook pausing before his teeth pierce your skin.

He lets out a scoff and pulls away from you. “Oh, come on, Hyung, what does it look like?”

The man enters your vision from behind Jungkook, and you make eye contact, doing your best to plead with him without words.

“Let her go and stop using your powers on her. Poor girl’s eyes look as dead as your heart.”

Jungkook mumbles something you can’t hear under his breath and releases the hold he has on you. You slump back, and in an instant, the fog that was swirling around your head lifts. You blink a few times as your senses return.

“You’re no fun.” Jungkook pouts at the other man before stomping out of the kitchen, leaving the two of you alone.

After watching Jungkook go, the man turns back to you, his chocolate eyes scanning you from head to toe. You can’t help but shrink further under his gaze. His vibe is different from Jungkook’s, less menacing, but he is just as attractive, which still makes you nervous. Slicked back black hair showcases intense eyebrows and a chiseled jaw. He’s tall and not as muscular but can still clearly throw you around like a doll if he wanted to. And honestly, you kind of want him to.

“I do apologize on behalf of him. He’s the youngest of my brothers and still behaves recklessly sometimes.” He smiles widely, and you see fangs poking out, even though he is very clearly wearing the signature purple suit of the Joker. “I’m Taehyung, and I like your costume, by the way. Are you a leopard?”

You adjust your leopard print jumpsuit, suddenly very aware of how form-fitting it is. “Y/n. And no, I’m Scary Spice. You know, from the Spice Girls?” This makes him chuckle.

“Of course, my mistake.”

You point towards his outfit. “If you’re the Joker, why isn’t your face done up to match?”

Taehyung shrugs. “It’s an old costume that I threw on last minute. I didn’t have much time for the whole thing.” He’s still smirking at you. “What’s the matter, kitten?” He asks, but his tone suggests that he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

You do your best to ignore the way his use of the pet name affects you. “I just want to find my friends. They should be here waiting for me.”

“Oh? Who are your friends? I know everyone at this party.”

“Uh, do you know Mingyu, Vernon, Wonwoo, or Seungcheol? They’re dressed as the other four Spice Girls, so they’re not hard to miss.”

After a few seconds of thinking, the man shakes his head. “Nope, can’t say anyone by those names are here...but I think you knew that already.” He starts to advance towards you, trapping you in place. “It seems you’ve stumbled into the wrong Halloween party, kitten.”

You dig your phone out of your clutch and double-check the address, showing it to him. He shakes his head. “That’s the next street over.”

Something had told you before even walking into the house that something was wrong, but hearing Taehyung confirm it proved that you weren’t just paranoid. The smell of copper and the red liquid in the kitchen, the alleged glowing contacts of people in the front room, and the fact that Jungkook nearly took a literal bite out of you all pointed to what this was. You believed in the supernatural, sure, but it was never at the forefront of your mind that you would run into a supernatural person. Until tonight.

“How interesting,” Taehyung starts. “The realization that you’ve shown up to a party hosted by a house full of vampires doesn’t seem to stress you out nearly as much as it should. Why is that?”

You’re honestly not sure, and when you tell him that, he laughs. “You know, you humans are always so fascinated with the supernatural, especially with us. We’re truly not that different than you all, you know.” Taehyung has you pressed against the counter, and you know he can hear how fast your heart is beating. You watch as his eyes flicker from brown to a deep red color.

The way he’s looking at you is different from Jungkook’s earlier gaze. The latter made you feel helpless since you had seemingly lost control over yourself. It was scary, and you are more than glad that Taehyung swooped in when he did. With him, though, the way that he’s hovering over you and studying your face is exhilarating.

Maybe you’ve finally lost it. Maybe every failed relationship you’ve had has finally gotten to you. Perhaps you’re that desperate right now. Either way, being in the arms of a vampire is better than any human you’ve been this close to.

“Your heart is racing right now. I already know the answer, but tell me anyway; what are you thinking?” He’s so close to you that his lips graze your earlobe. All of your senses are on high alert in the best way possible.

“About you.”

“And what about me?”

“Kissing you.”

Taehyung chuckles and licks his lips. Slow and deliberate. “Oh my, how forward of you. We’ve only just met, kitten.”

You stutter as a blush creeps up your neck. “I-I’m-”

“I’m only teasing you.” Taehyung’s nimble fingers come up to toy with one of your bra straps peeking out of the neckline of your jumpsuit. “I’ve been thinking about kissing you since you walked through the front door.”

He watched you walk in? How long had he been watching you? Before you can ask him, his lips are pressing into yours with a sense of urgency as he brings his body closer to yours. The marble countertop digging into your back is insignificant compared to the way your body buzzes in response to Taehyung. His mouth tastes sweet, and his lips are so soft, which are both heavy contrasts to the way his broad hands are gripping your hips so tight you’re sure you’re bruising through your outfit.

The way his teeth nip at your bottom lip elicits a soft moan from you. He uses the opportunity to suck your tongue into his mouth, and your quiet sounds grow louder, as does the stickiness in your panties. His sharp canines graze against your tongue, and you’re so close to begging him to take you on the kitchen floor of this strange house. Just as you begin rutting against his muscled thigh between your legs, he pulls away, leaving you panting and whimpering.

“You’ve got to go now, kitten.”

“Wh-What?” Your body is still buzzing while Taehyung looks much more composed.

“Your friends are waiting for you.”

“But I don’t want to.” You whine out, sounding childish, but you don’t care. You can’t believe he’s just going to leave you like this.

“Just close your eyes for me. Can you do that?” He’s whispering in your ear again, and your knees nearly buckle.

“Taehyung, I want you so bad.” Your words echo, and they sound slurred. It’s harder to open your eyes.

“And you’ll have me, kitten. Soon.” He places a kiss on your neck, and the same woozy, disconnected sensation you had felt with Jungkook washes over you. You can’t open your eyes, and you want so badly to say something to Taehyung, but your tongue feels impossibly heavy, and you seemingly have forgotten how to speak. Before you can gather any more thoughts, everything goes quiet and dark.

“Y/n? Wake up.” Hearing your name brings you out of your sleep-like state. As your eyes open and adjust, you anticipate the chiseled face of the vampire you were just kissing, but instead of seeing Taehyung’s piercing red eyes, you’re met with Mingyu’s brown ones.

Sitting up fast, you see your friend kneeling in front of you. Vernon, Wonwoo, and Seungcheol stand behind him with matching looks of concern mixed with annoyance.

“What’s going on?” You ask, thoroughly confused.

“We’ve been looking for you for like an hour! You stopped answering our texts, so we practically turned the house upside down, trying to find you!” Vernon explained.

“Come to find out you’re just here in the living room. Passed out on the couch.” Seungcheol deadpans.

Looking around, you see that you’re lying on a grey cloth couch. Around you is the rest of the party. A few people are glancing your way in concern, but for the most part, the remainder of the partygoers don’t notice you or your friends. The room is well lit and reeks of beer. The complete opposite of the house full of vampires you had just been in.

Or that you thought you had just been in.

“Where’s Taehyung?”

“Who?” Mingyu offers you his hand, which you take.

“Taehyung. Dark hair, dressed as the Joker.”

“The only guy here I’ve seen dressed at the Joker is Minghao.” Wonwoo gestures to another mutual friend across the room whose tongue is currently down a Harley Quinn’s throat.

“Well, now that we know you’re not dead in a ditch somewhere, are you up to actually enjoy the rest of the party?” Vernon asks as he adjusts his Sporty Spice track pants.

You agree and follow your friends over to another group of people you all know. Your head doesn’t hurt, and the fog over your mind is completely clear, but you’re still confused. Recalling the handful of shots you threw back before you left home to pregame, you try to remember if it was enough to cause you to blackout on the couch. Your dream felt so real, from how Jungkook influenced your mind to the pure need that Taehyung filled you with. You can practically still feel his grip on your body and his mouth on yours.

When Vernon offers you a glass of water, you down it in less than a minute to calm your vivid memories of Taehyung and the dull ache between your legs.

Only another hour goes by before you, and your friends say your goodbyes and pile into your respective Ubers. Once you’re home, you get ready for bed with your mind still stuck on your dream and Taehyung. You think of him as you undress and shower, not able to resist touching yourself at the realistic sensation of him.

He’s still on your mind as you settle into bed and attempt to distract yourself by scrolling through Twitter. You’re so caught up in your head that you don’t even notice the figure reclining on your couch across the room until he clears his throat.

Nearly jumping out of your skin, you sit up and whip around, ready to fight your intruder. You abandon this quickly when you see him stand up.

“Taehyung?”

“Hello, kitten,” his smooth, deep baritone echoes through the quiet room. He is at your bedside in no time, your studio apartment not leaving much space between the two of you, to begin with.

“I-I thought, uh, I thought you were a dream,” you stutter as he crawls onto your bed. You notice he’s no longer in his Joker costume, but a pair of black slacks and loose, white button-down instead. He still looks breathtaking. “I was with you...but then I wasn’t? I was with my friends, and you were gone, and I-”

“Ssh,” he places a finger over your lips. “Don’t worry about that right now, kitten. I’m here now, and we need to finish what we started.” His hand travels up your thigh as he speaks, fingers dangerously close to your core. “I heard you in the shower a little bit ago. I know how much you missed me.”

Did you fall asleep with your phone in your hand? Is this truly happening?

You aren’t entirely sure, but the way Taehyung suddenly tears your shirt open and latches his lips around your nipple feels very real to you. The number of times he has you orgasming into the night is also very real, and the soreness you feel throughout your body stays with you even as you wake the next morning.

It’s obvious Taehyung is determined to make sure you stop doubting his existence and thinking your time together is some sort of dream, even if it takes him the entirety of the day and into the rest of the weekend.

#btsholidaybingo #btsnoonanet #ficswithluv #heartsforbts #btswritingcafe #bangtanarmynet #bangtanhq #thebtswritersclub #bangtanuniversity #btsbookclub #btswriterscollective #magicshopnet #thebtsficarchive #taehyung x reader #kim taehyung x reader #vampire taehyung #taehyung fic

[goopyartiste]

Love Lost

Prompt: loosely inspired by “just a boy” by Alaina Castillo

Pairing: Bakugo x Reader

Warnings: 15+, swearing, drinking and alcohol, implied sexual acts

Word Count: 2.1k words

A/N: this one was super fun to make actually! this was the first time i had properly written for Bakugo, so hopefully it turned out well! i really just thought of this while listening to my angsty playlist, so it just grew from there! thanks to @peach-pops and @sugas-sweetheart both for beta reading this and helping me actually finish this in time. now on to the story! enjoy <3

You were never supposed to find out, especially not through Denki. Spending the evening with Sero and Denki at his house was supposed to be your escape from the reality that was your failing relationship with Bakugo. Tonight was not supposed to bring you more stress.

“I’m telling you Y/N,” Denki slurred, clearly inebriated, “he told us that at that bar, you know, the one he always goes to, he met a girl and hooked up with her!”

Sero, also drunk, took this opportunity to jump in, “Dude! You’re right! I completely forgot he told us!”

While the two continued their conversation, you remained seated on the couch, absolutely at a loss for words. Of course you were no idiot. You were painfully aware of the struggles you and your partner were facing. You just never expected him to cheat on you, especially since he had promised to begin to fix your relationship. Now you were wondering, how long has he been keeping this from you? 

And thus, thanks to Kaminari, your mind fell into a downward emotional spiral. Where did they go? Was it in your shared bed? In hers? Were you just not good enough? Did he continue to see her? Was it a one night stand? Thoughts like these circled your mind for at least a week after Kaminari’s slip up, and as much as you wanted to tell someone, anyone, about what was going on through your mind, you were stuck. Finally, you decided to not stoop down to Bakugo’s level and give him the opportunity to confess. Surely, he would, right?

Unfortunately, Bakugo just had to prove you wrong once again. Even with your constant hints to confess, he remained stoic to your advances. You carefully tried to incite a conversation with him about anything, but you were always shut down. Either he still didn’t understand that you knew, or he frankly didn’t want to talk about it with you. All this back and forth, tip toeing around an invisible line, drove you absolutely insane.

So, you did something about it.

One day, you managed to both be in the house at the same time. Seeing this you snatched the opportunity fate had thrown your way. You had just about enough of his stubbornness. Walking to the kitchen, you found him sitting on the couch. Quickly, you approached him.

“Bakugo, I have a question for you.” 

The usually loud and abrasive man only stared you down with a twinge of fear in his crimson eyes. He was aware that you knew, that much as obvious solely by the fact that you addressed him by his last name. Although he knew what he did, the man in front of you only wished to delay the inevitable. Of course, Bakugo still had to put up a front.

Glaring at you, he took his time responding to you, “Go ahead dumbass, I’m listening.”

You felt your cheeks heat up at the nickname. Whether it was from anger or embarrassment, you were unsure. Deciding to ignore the searing warmth present, you continued.

“Do you trust me?”

Bakugo tensed slightly at your question, already knowing where this conversation could go. It was time to face the problem at hand.

“Yeah, I do,” he responded, anticipating the end of your inquiries.

“Well, that’s good to know. Now tell me, would you like it if i held secrets from you? Some potentially shocking news?”

“Well, no-”

You cut him off, “Ah! That’s good to know. You don’t mind if I ask another question do you?”

The atmosphere around the both of you was heavy with tension and anger, both of you wanting to say something, but repressing it in hopes of escalating the simmering situation.

Bakugo begins, clearly holding back his anger, “Go ahead smartass, you already asked two anyways.”

This ticked you off. How did he have the gall  to call you a smartass when he was sitting there so nonchalantly answering your questions as if this wasn’t serious. Thus, you had had just about enough of him and his attitude.

“So, Bakugo,” you spat out lacing your voice with as much venom as you could while feigning innocence, “you know I trust you whenever you’re with me. That’s just obvious. But when you leave, I don't know what to think. I mean, what if let's say some girl come up to you and suddenly you lose all control?” 

You stared at him once more, “How could I trust you then?”

“What are you implying, Y/N? Are you sure this shit isn’t you mind at work again or are you trying to make me mad?” Bakugo answered, clearly trying to avoid answering the question. You were right after all. 

You couldn’t trust him then.

“Oh I’m sure I'm not crazy. I also know that this isn’t all in my head.”

“Really?” He looked at you dubiously. “And how would you know that?”

You took a step towards him, looking at his enchanting vermillion eyes. God how you wished the relationship with him didn’t have to end like this. As soon as you were close enough, you slowly began to sneer at him as you spat out your answer.

“Denki told me.” He stopped glaring, fear flashed in his carnelian eyes before it vanished. You continued, “yeah it’s funny, he told me you hooked up with a girl at a bar at least a month ago.”

“So, dunce face spilled huh? Doesn't matter anyway its in the past,” Bakugo retorted quickly, hoping that this would be the end of this conversation. But his attempt to change the conversation failed.

For you, this was the final straw. His constant ignorance towards your plight and his attempts to change the subject pissed you off.

“I thought you were over this from high school,” you spat. “Don't insult one of your friends! The only reason he even told me was because he was drunk! And, if you don't mind, I would very much like to discuss this ‘past event’ since, ya’ know it impacts me too.”

You stared at him, taking a shaky breath before continuing, “be honest with me, were you ever gonna tell me?”

“y/n-”

“No! I need you to be honest. Were you ever gonna tell me?” You shouted, trying to get him to listen to you for once.

Bakugo tensed. His response would either diffuse or inflame the situation. Sadly, he knew where his next words would take him.

“No, I wasn’t gonna tell you. Are you happy now?”

You scoffed. “So I'm not good enough to be told when my boyfriend fucks someone else?” Tears began to well up in your eyes.

No, you refused to let him see you cry.

“I can't believe you were going to let me love a lie.”

Bakugo felt himself start to become riled up. He felt his breathing rapidly increase. To him, you weren’t understanding. This moment marked the tipping of the scale, frustration and anger overtaking tension.

“Oh please! Quit exaggerating will you?! What were you gonna do if I told you? Were you gonna yell? Scream? Cry? Were you gonna question me or just pack your bags and leave? What would you have done?”

You flinched at his gruff tone, clearly caught off guard. In a silent defeat, you responded, “I don't know..”

“What was that? Speak louder.”

“I said I DON'T KNOW WHAT I WOULD HAVE DONE!” You knew you shouldn’t have let your feelings overtake you, but his brash pestering began to whittle you down. “I don't know if we could have worked things out or not but all I know is that we are here now and it's up to you to explain to me why and how.”

Bakugo was startled at this. He never expected for you to ask for his own side of the story. His whole body was begging for him to just let go, tell you everything and be vulnerable. But his own inhibitions stopped him. “Explain what to you? What is there to explain?”

“I don't know! How about you start with the whole situation and why you thought it best to cheat in the first place!”

“Well then picture this, hm?” Bakugo began, gesturing with his pointer finger. “We got into one of our usual fights. I left here like always and went to a bar. There, a woman took me to her place while I was drunk. But I wasn’t going to leave you for her, but because of all of our fights until you decided to try to work things out!”

You and Bakugo looked into each other’s eyes, and indescribable emptiness and brokenness being the only emotions you both saw. He had said too much, and you heard the one thing you didn't want to hear. He was planning on leaving you from the start.

The tears that had threatened to fall earlier now trailed down from your eyes as you slowly made your own feelings known. “You know what Bakugo, I’ve had just about enough of you. All my life I thought we could actually be together. You know one of those cute couples that love each other. Ever since our first year at U.A. I’ve pined after you, but now? I live in constant fear that I’m not good enough. I live in a state of mind where I fear that one day you’ll wake up and leave me. And now? You tell me you wouldn't even tell me if you've been loyal or not. Hell! You don’t even want to be with me!”

Bakugo froze, pain evident in his eyes. He knew he had gone too far.

“Y/N-”

“Don't,” you took a step back, “come near me please. The only thing I know right now is that I can't be near you. I don’t want to be near you. I thought we could work this out or maybe find a solution, but I can't. At least not now.”

Bakugo started at your cowering figure. He had done this to you, the person he had finally learned to love. How could you just ask him to let you go now?

“Y/N, please. You've shown me how much you love me. I’m not the same person I was a few months ago. That woman was in the past. You are my now,” Bakugo was practically begging at this point, his walls crumbling down too late to change your mind.

You managed to look up, finding his eyes. Both of you were hurt, too much to continue this conversation. You carefully took a step towards him, almost as if floating on air.

Gently caressing his cheek, you struck one final blow to his heart, “I’m sorry Katsuki, but I don't think we were the right fit together. We didn’t work and that's okay. Right now, I need some space.”

Bakugo watched as you gracefully turned from his view. It took him too long for your words to finally sink in, leaving him frozen. No, you couldn’t leave him. Not with the way you tenderly said his name. Not after you softly held his cheek after he spent months ignoring your touch. Your figure drifted across the room, grabbing a small bag and filling it with some of your belongings while making your way over to the entrance to the abode that you both shared.

“I'll be back in a few days once I've cleared my head and come up with a decision. You turned to face him, making sure to lock eyes with him as you said your final goodbyes. “I love you, Katsuki, I really do.”

These were your final words as you left your apartment. With the sound of the door closing, Bakugo felt his knees collapse as he hit the floor with a thud. He felt as if he had just been dropped into the arctic, frozen from shock, almost dumbfounded by what he had just done. He slowly felt a tear roll down his face, followed by another. It wasn't long until sobs wracked his body as he knelt on the floor. The hot and heavy tears flowed endlessly until he felt his lungs ache. His breathing became erratic, no clear pattern or rhythm as he struggled to catch his breath. His whole body was shaking as he sobbed hunched over, holding his body to keep himself grounded. 

Katsuki Bakugo has just lost the best thing in his life, and there was no getting them back.

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#bakugo x reader #mha katsuki #mha bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo fanfiction #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha bakugo x reader #bakugo x you #bakugo x y/n #katsuki bakugo x y/n #katsuki bakugo angst #bakugo angst #Stories from the Galaxy; — 🌌

[misswenndy]

About Female-Led Relationships

DEFINITION

Female-Led Relationships come in many forms and shapes. In many plain-vanilla relationships, the women end up deciding most matters as a consequence of their personalities, but these relationships don’t include any kink or formal recognition of the skewed power balance. On the other side of the spectrum you have so-called female supremacists, who feel that all females are superior to all males and rig their relationships accordingly.

This blog is about something in between those two, but quite a lot closer to the first type. More specifically, I will concentrate on the type of relationship that has some of the following qualities:

The female is the head of the household and makes most of the day-to-day decisions

The needs of the female come first, and any selfishness on her part is tolerated and even encouraged

There is an expressed recognition of the female’s position as head of the household, it’s not just "how we do things"

The male is expected to pamper and satisfy the female in many different ways

The male’s sexual drive is harnessed and controlled as the main source of motivation

There is typically a certain amount of kink involved, but no more than the female is comfortable with

Everything is consensual and the end-goal is to improve the life quality of both parties

As you can see there are many advantages for women who embrace this life, and there is very little effort required of you to enjoy all these benefits.

WHY DOES THE MALE WANT A FLR?

While it is easy to see why the woman would want such a life, it can seem puzzling that any man would want it. In fact, most women are introduced to the idea of a Female-Led Relationship by their husband/partner, which on the face of it seems even stranger.

I am no psychologist, but after living this life for many years I have come to see it from my husband’s perspective, and it actually makes perfect sense. Here are some of the benefits to the male in a FLR:

Offers a simple and easy-to-understand (if demanding) home-life

A closer, more loving relationship with his partner

A fulfilling and rewarding sex life, less pressure to be assertive in bed

Increased sex drive, heightened energy level

More kink

As you can see, a lot of the benefits are shared with the female, just from the opposite perspective. In general, an FLR is more physically demanding on a male than a plain-vanilla relationship, but a lot less mentally draining. It also provides an outlet for certain personality traits and fantasies that are typically frowned-upon for males in the western world. This is especially important for executives, entrepreneurs and others who are normally in a stressful position of power.

WHAT’S THE CATCH?

Given the huge number of benefits that a FLR can offer a couple, there are remarkably few drawbacks. But there are some things you as the female needs to be aware of. For example, you will have some responsibilities:

Actually make a lot of the household decisions

Follow up on any rules and limitations you decide for your male

Come up with some sexually charged activities that you wouldn’t mind doing on a near-daily basis

Most women find these responsibilities to be well worth it.

There are also a couple of potential drawbacks that can be difficult to mitigate:

You may need to adjust your sexual preferences slightly

Of these, I consider the last one to be the only possibly valid reason to actively avoid an FLR, so let’s discuss it in some detail. Some women just can’t stand to be around men who aren’t dominant and assertive, or at least they aren’t attracted to such men. If this is you, and he has brought up the topic of FLR, then have a good talk with him and tell him that it’s best to just forget the whole thing and get back to being macho. Don’t give him a hard time for wanting to try something new.

If, however, you have a more nuanced attitude and are at least somewhat open to seeing a new side of your partner, there are a few things you should consider before making a decision based on this perceived drawback:

What he’s suggesting is mostly a playful sexual arrangement, designed to make your sex life and home life simpler and more enjoyable for both of you - it’s not like he’s a different person all of a sudden. He is still the same wonderful man you fell in love with, you’re just seeing a new side of him.

Men who have the courage to broach this subject tend to have high self-esteem and the fact that they aren’t afraid to play with gender roles in a controlled setting typically means they are very confident about their manliness.

This whole arrangement is (as you’ll learn in a later article) predicated on harnessing his deep love and desire for the female body, yours in particular. Compare and contrast to blustering machismos and their insecurities.

Submissive tendencies are quite common among some of the world’s most powerful men, suggesting that the traditional alpha/beta model of masculinity is overly simplistic.

You can keep this part of him entirely to yourself - have him be as assertive as you like in public and at work.

In fact, you can even have him increase his assertiveness and manliness towards others - remember, you decide now.

It can be quite exciting to know that an outwardly macho man answers to your every wink when it’s just the two of you.

Ultimately, you’ll have to decide for yourself. Just know that the lack of an open mind here can be what stands between you and endless benefits. I, for one, haven’t regretted it for a second, and I love my husband more than ever.

OK, now that we have defined key concepts and talked a little about possible challenges, let’s look closer at your role in this new version of your relationship.

You may find a servile/submissive male less interesting and attractive than a dominant/assertive one

No more power-struggles, less arguing

[youarejesting]

Mania.2

[Full Master List] [Mania Master List]

Beta: N/A Rating: Mature 18+ Pairing: BTS OT7 Genre: Fantasy, Romance, Comedy, Omegaverse Words: 1.3k Blood types: Namjoon, Jhope, Jungkook, Yoongi (A) Taehyung (AB) Jin, Jimin and Yoongi (O) (Jimin in real life is an A blood type)

Summary: At eighteen everyone takes a blood test to find out their blood types. A, B, or O. Each blood type represents the person's secondary gender Alpha, Beta or Omega and can be Dominant (+) or Recessive (-). 

When small thin Yoongi receives his letter he doesn't expect A+. There was no way he was an Alpha especially not a dominant. But as time passes he shows no Alpha nor Omega tendencies and frankly he doesn't care. Working in his father's electrical business helps pay the bills but Yoongi's real passion is music. 

One very hot day in the roof space of a luxury apartment that Yoongi is rewiring an intoxicatingly pleasant smell churns his insides and he finds himself in need of something to quench his thirst.

[First] [Mania] [Next]

Yoongi was guided by Seokjin's hands into an unfamiliar room, his heart beating out of his chest like it was trying to escape. Behind the haze of wanting to be mated, he cursed the stupid test. They said he was an alpha but they were wrong. They said he was going to be the one in control but it seemed he was the one losing complete control. Yoongi never groveled or begged but he could smell the faint alpha scent and more than that he just knew they were in the house. So he called for them. He cried out and pleaded for them to relieve the pain. He was scared.

“I want to go home!” He pleaded in a moment of clarity, he wanted the safety of his own room away from the unfamiliar scents and feelings. He wanted everything to stop, it was too much.

“See he doesn’t want to be here,” Jimin threw his arms up in the air exasperated, he turned to leave wanting this omega out of his territory as soon as possible, “I will send him home.”

Before he had the chance to leave the room, his exit was blocked by Seokjin who grabbed him  firmly, “If you open that door those alphas will barge in here, he is not in his right mind and he is scared. The Alphas in our band are not bad guys who would ever do something without consent,” Seokjin words came out harsh reprimanding the younger omega for being selfish, “don’t make them the bad guys here?”

“How do we help him?” Jimin sighed, "I am just confused why we are putting so much effort into protecting someone we don't even know." 

"I'm sorry," Yoongi's weak voice drifted towards them as feeble as a leaf fluttering in a gentle wind, destined to fall. Seokjin walked over, taking the Omega's hand and giving it a squeeze. Yoongi blinked through the ache in his abdomen and saw the older Omega dab the sweat from his face and reassure him that everything would be okay.

"Of course, Jimin is a kind-hearted person, and if he had seen you having your first heat he would help, but when it threatened his relationship with the Alpha’s, he grew a bit defensive." Seokjin said, "He knows deep down he wants to protect you and yet he just can't bring himself to open his hands or heart with fear of being betrayed. Omega’s and their Alphas are very territorial."

"I'm sorry," Yoongi repeatedly felt himself drift into a half conscious state, his eyes were too heavy to open and his body too heavy to move but his senses were still going strong.

“We will be here with you the whole time until your first heat passes,” Seokjin explained tiredly, getting some cool towels to help try to relive the heat.

The pain came in waves and they tried to get him to eat and drink when he plateaued between them, he had a few sips of water but it took a few waves for them to convince him to eat something only for him to bring it back up.

“He is in a lot of pain and he isn’t keeping anything down, so if we can’t calm him we will have to call an emergency doctor,” Seokjin expressed his concern and Yoongi knew if he had the strength to open his eyes this Omega's brows would be pressed together in worry. “It doesn’t look good at all?”

“I might have something that can help him calm down.” Jimin announced thoughtfully, before Yoongi heard the door open and shut. Jimin wasn't gone long or perhaps Yoongi had passed out at some point but the most pleasant of smells hit him. His eyes opened as clothes littered the bed and then the familiar spritz sound of a spray bottle. Yoongi felt his whole body relax, as pheromones filled the room lightly cutting though his haze with a thin blade of clarity. Jimin felt his body easy and the stress the three Omega's were holding seemed to melt away.

“Jimin, Thanks for helping?” Seokjin sighed as the scent hit him as well. The two Omega’s relaxed sitting comfortably on the bed around Yoongi. It took a lot more pills and pheromones before Yoongi’s heat began to weaken. By the time his heat had safely ended three days had passed. 

“How are you feeling?” Jimin smiled, laying beside him on the bed, somehow during the three days Yoongi had grown accustomed to Jimin's presence and he thought perhaps Jimin no longer felt threatened by his scent, maybe he could see him as a potential friend. 

Yoongi blushed, the two had spent each new morning talking about their favourite things, Yoongi confessed he loved making music, and Jimin asked to listen to some of his songs so finding some headphones the two shared them listening to some of Yoongi's favourite tracks. 

“These are really good,” Jimin enthused Yoongi still felt a little apprehensive about him, every smile felt more like fanservice. He didn't allow himself to dwell on these thoughts instead focusing on the pretty Omega beside him wiggling to the beat and enjoying Yoongi's fast and yet intricate raps. "I like this one a lot."

“You are just saying that, it’s definitely not as good as your music, that’s why I am an electrician and not a producer” Yoongi sat up stretching, he felt his muscles ache and his bones creaking. It was the first time he felt the strength to sit up and he could already hear his bed at home calling for him. 

Unsure about when he would be deemed safe enough to leave, he was leaving it up to the Omega's more accustomed to heats and pheromones. Seokjin poked his head inside with a funny expression that almost made Yoongi laugh. Yoongi thought of himself as a quiet person. He rarely ever smiled, but he found around his two newly acquired friends he was on the edge.

“What were you talking about?” Seokjin asked, brandishing a serving dish containing a few blueberry muffins, fresh fruit, saltines, and cheese cubes. "I didn't know what you would like but I knew you would be hungry.

“Thank you” Yoongi thanked the man sincerely before eating the muffin in mere seconds not realising how hungry he was from his heat. They laughed and Jimin began handing him more and more foods, seemingly happy to watch him eat.

“Jimin you are being creepy,” Seokjin said, almost warning him to back off.

“He is just excited to see me leave,” Yoongi said quietly, “I think you must be really popular Jimin, you are very pretty and have a lovely voice, from what I heard, you were singing to me every night when Seokjin fell asleep. I like your voice a lot. It is sweet.”

Jimin blushed at the compliment and froze, “I wasn’t trying to rush you to leave,” his voice was small, almost guilty like he was trying to deny it. “I like your songs, maybe we could collaborate on something.”

“Maybe, someday.” Yoongi stood up, and collected his things off the bedside, he looked at the two and nodded, “Thank you for taking care of me, and sorry that you had to take care of me.”

“It was no trouble at all, if you would like, I can drop you off at your house and make sure you get back safe.” Seokjin smiled, “Also I booked you in at a specialist as yours is a rather special case, the doctor is really good and will get you some medication that will suppress your heat and make things more bearable and ease to manage.”

Seokjin handed Yoongi a card after writing the appointment date on the back, Yoongi followed the two Omega's to their vehicle and they dropped him off with a wave.

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