Feb 1, 2025
I love you people in my ask box. I promise I'm not ignoring you, some of you gave me ideas I really wanna turn into drabbles / fics - so as a result, i have not answered them yet ... know that I see you ! I love you !
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I love you people in my ask box. I promise I'm not ignoring you, some of you gave me ideas I really wanna turn into drabbles / fics - so as a result, i have not answered them yet ... know that I see you ! I love you !
Angst / fluff request.
Reader saves Painter from one of their teammates and screams over the walkie for Sebastian.
(Him drawing pupils as the expendable got closer ruined my life actually)
Understood. This is just a short tid-bit from my canon Yandere Pressure AU (which features the same Monster Reader from the Block Tales story. Is it the exact same character or a part of the same timeline as Block Tales? I'll let you decide. ;3)
Monsters Bite
WARNINGS: Violence, gore, blood
--☆☆☆☆☆--
Unlike the other Expendables, you were different. You were an inhuman creature who was here thanks to a promise by Urbanshade. A promise that if you got that crystal, you'd get all the legal stuff to make you a human and being allowed to live alongside them.
You agreed, desperate to get freedom from being studied under watchful eyes.
Which led to here, and the days you spent at Hadal Blacksite. You'd join the occasional group and watch in horror as the monsters seemed to pick them off.
You didn't know how you lived. Perhaps the creatures here spared you for being akin to them. Or you were just getting lucky. Or the beasts wanted you alive for some reason...
...you couldn't tell. You just had ideas.
None of the humans you met lasted long. Some were kind, looking upon you with pity for your state. Others called you a monster or tried to hurt you.
Those ones never lasted long.
And somehow, you became almost friends with a couple of the things kept here.
...maybe friends wasn't the good word. They didn't necessarily know you that well. But they were friendly enough.
Sebastian Solace was friendly... enough, but you were closed with p.AI.nter.
Sure, at first, he'd try to turn you into a pile of scales and skin with mostly bullet holes with those turrets. Or send Eyefestation trying to melt your eyes until you turned back and fled or ran out the timer. Or trick you with Good People, who'd you have to electrcute to not be pulled into their fleshy body.
Then you found his room. And you, albeit hesitantly, talked to him.
He was confused why you were helping the Expendables and were one yourself, but understood when he learned your reason. Soon enough, he was even showing you the things he drew.
He offered you a rare safe haven down in the depths, and you gladly accepted it. He became a genuine friend.
You even managed to open the door to their cell so you could talk with them easier.
You wish you could take him out here with you, but you were in no means in any position to negotiate p.AI.nter's freedom. Hell, you had no idea how or why they even promised you freedom. Deep down, you weren't even sure they were going to genuinely grant you a human-ish life.
It was something you had to accept.
...
Here you were, with another small group of humans. There were original five, but now there was two, plus you.
During your entire time here, you've only fought off the monsters on the rare occasion you got cornered. Never a human. You never dared. You laid neither claw nor fang upon them.
You led them into p.AI.nter's room as one of them, a girl named Beth who was arrested for drug dealing, was injured. You wanted to give her a chance to help bandage up her wounds. She was the kinder of the two, who looked at you with pity rather than hatred or fear.
The other girl, someone named Gwen and you didn't learn why she was arrested, didn't look at you like that. She looked at you with scorn.
"Hello there, muse!" p.AI.nter chirped out, a happy smile presented on their monitor. You don't know why he called you that, but you'd rather not argue. "Ooooh? New friends again? How long will these one's last? Maybe an hour? Hehe..."
You ignored the venom in their voice with the word "friends", as per usual.
"...what's this... thing?" Gwen asked, her face scrunched up in disgust.
"His name is p.AI.nter." You chided her as Beth collapsed onto the ground, murmuring a weak thank you to her as you went to help with her injuries, assisting her in binding them up so she wouldn't bleed out.
Gwen scoffed, but you ignored her.
"...wait..." You could sense her scowl, "God! It's the damn thing that's been shooting at us with those stupid turrets!"
"What?!" Beth asks, bolting upright before wincing and resting again.
"...okay, he sorta kinda maybe is..?" You admit, before quickly waving your other pair of arms, "But he won't hurt you here! He's harmless so just... leave him be, alright?"
"..." You feel Gwen's glare burn into your back, but you pay it no mind. You hear her walk, and then:
"Hey, could you leave?"
Immediately, you pause, and your head snaps to stare at Gwen in p.AI.nter's cage, standing unmoving in front of him. Then she gets closer.
"Uhhhh..." p.AI.nters monitor flickers, and he looks... concerned. "Hey... you're getting awfully close... what are you doing?"
She holds up her fist and balls it, and immediately, you are upright, and your spikes flared.
Oh god- OH GOD HE LOOKS SCARED-
"This is payback, you little fucker-" Gwen hisses at him.
"Wait-"
No- NO-!
"Wait!"
She draws back.
"I didn't mean it-!" He begs, desperation filling his tone as he's terrified.
Then she moves.
But you're faster.
The bulb of your tail unfurls, and the glistening, twisted spike plunges into her arm with no resistance. The bone snaps like a twig, and her screams echo throughout the room. Her body convulses as electricity rockets through her form, but you don't stop. You don't even flinch as her body collapses to the ground, shaking a few more times until you finally pull your tail out.
You flick the blood off and close it as her body twitches, breaths weak and ragged as she's left borderline unconsious, laying their on the ground in a daze.
You lift your leg and stomp down on her other arm, breaking that too. She doesn't even scream this time, just twitches as she's too dazed to react.
Her bones are jutting out from her flesh.
...
HER BONES ARE JUTTING OUT FROM HER FLESH, GLISTENING IN THE LIGHT- OH GOD-
You finally realize what you did as bile rises in your throat. You step back, tail flicking erratically as all your hands cover your mouth, trying to not vomit.
What have you done?
WHAT HAVE YOU DONE, YOU MONSTER-!
Beth screams, finally processing what happens. It's merely white noise as a walkie-talkie next to p.AI.nter flicks on, and you hear Sebastian's yelling as you stare at the mangled body of Gwen.
She's alive, but she isn't going to last long with what you did.
...what have you done-?!
Oh god OH GOD OH GOD!!!!
Your head snaps over as you see Beth stand up, clutching her wounds as she staggers back. You wince, trying to approach as she only screams again and runs.
You slow down to a stop, a hand left hovering in the air, and all you can think is how much of a monster you are. You did the one thing you swore you'd never do.
You hurt someone. You hurt a human.
Oh god- no- nonono-
You lock eyes with p.AI.nter, their expression one of still shock as they don't draw themselves a new face and just... watch as you bolt out of the room.
"Kid- KID?!" Sebastian's voice rings out, "WHAT'S GOING ON?!"
"...they saved me..." They weakly murmur, mind and heart reeling, "They actually..."
...
...
...
...
...
You still haven't forgiven yourself, even if days have past.
Walking into Sebastian's shop, you barely look up at his grinning face at the sight of you.
"My, it's sure been awhile since you've waltzed on in here," He muses. He frowns when you don't look at him.
"...here." He says, grabbing a code breacher off his belt and sliding it to you.
You stare at it blankly, unused to him just... giving you things. At most, he just gives you a discount. "...what's this for?"
"Think of it as a thanks," He tells you, clasping his hands together, "I've heard all about how you've saved a certain someone from a rather... brutal Expendable. Thanks for doing that, shorty."
"..." You just stare at it, not picking it up, "I'm a monster..."
Sebastian scoffs. "Oh please, you panicked. You're no monster."
As you pick up the code breacher when Sebastian gestures for you to take it, your hands shake. And you know, you know very well, you are a monster.
And monsters bite.
Hey! Was just wondering, do you have visual descriptions of any of the cast posted anywhere? I'm trying to do an art thing (specifically feat. Jackie and Billy) and combing through the demo every time I want to check something is... less than ideal,,,
here's a post that directs to a handful of character bios, I have Harper's around here somewhere that I should post soon now that their appearance doesn't have spoilers. I just gotta find it.
I'll also say that these bios are a littttllleeeee out of date, so some stuff wont make sense for the wider story. But its fine, we're vibing.
Also a bit of a longer post, so its under the cut.
As for Jackie: She's short-ish, like 5'6" or 5'5" or so, got paler skin, and wrinkles. Gray hair, that's cut pretty short, I cant decide if its a bob or if she wears it in a bun and its a bit longer. Her left eye is gray, her right eye is a pale blue. And she wears suits, typically with smaller heels. I'd like to think she has a longer looking face, with a more pronounced nose, but I haven't brought that up yet. She also has perfect white teeth.
Billie: 26-ish years old, black hair, gray eyes, pale skin, closer to 5'10", maybe up to 6'. He's got shorter hair, and some old acne scars that have faded. (also not mentioned in the game, I just think of him that way.) Same thing as Jackie with the longer face and larger nose. He's thin and lithe, and wears more stylish street wear.
Just a general idea of the height of everyone: Their exact heights aren't canon, so don't take these numbers for gospel, just the vibes.
I'll try to add descriptions of everyone in the stats menu before the next chapter update to help people out more.
Also: for the person who's been sending asks about Dame's hair: They have curly, more coiled hair. They're Creole, but I don't plan on really bringing that up, the bigger thing for their back story is that they're from NOLA, so they were originally Cajun, but I changed it, kinda.
TBH, I fucked a few things up with Dame along the way so now they just feel like that whole "ambiguously brown" trope, which i really feel gross about because I do want a cast with representation that isn't just stapled on at the end, and thats how Dame feels to me rn. I just haven't been able to put more research to actually do it right yet.
𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗻𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗲𝗿(𝕡𝕥. 𝕥𝕨𝕠)
series masterlist - part one || part two || part three || part four || part five || part six || part seven
summary: lawyer!au where burned out attorney Jeon Jungkook starts his own barely-functioning firm and accidentally hires an even bigger problem themes: oh brother, fastest slow burn imaginable; unhinged workplace dynamics; “what is wrong with you” x “no seriously, what is wrong with you” energy; chaotic coworker ensemble; blurred professional/personal boundaries; power imbalances; questionable coping mechanisms; dark humor; emotional repression series warnings: mdni! explicit content, workplace power dynamics, toxic coping mechanisms, degradation/humiliation themes, dom/sub undertones, restraint/bondage (handcuffs etc), threesome-ish situations, feetplay, s*xual tension tied to control/instability, messy consent-adjacent dynamics, s*bstance use, dark themes intertwined with s*xual content wc: ~11k(chapter total)/~70k (series total) a/n: TAGLIST IS CLOSED (bc i was never supposed to have a taglist) but in honor of the og fans of the series, i'll make an exception for you guys, hope you enjoy the next part: @mikrokookiex @prxdajeon @bjoriis @somehowukook ~Part Two~
Going back to the office on Monday is hell. It’s actual, literal hell.
Maybe Jungkook did kill himself. That’s the only reasonable explanation.
Jimin picks up on something immediately. Namjoon is quick to follow.
“Well, you’ve been quiet,” Jimin chimes from his door as he brings in the binders full of documents that Jungkook has to review.
Jungkook hates document review.
What he hates more is Namjoon’s jeering voice adding to the scrutiny -
“Yeah, you usually break out into song at least twice by noon.” He checks the clock on Jungkook’s wall. “It’s 1 pm. I’m concerned.”
“I’m fine! Just overwhelmed by..” he picks up one of the binders, “all these documents.”
Jimin and Namjoon exchange looks. Jungkook is getting tired of that.
“You should ask Y/N for help,” Namjoon tries. He gets a stress ball thrown at him.
“I’m asking the paralegal for help.”
Soon enough, Jimin and Namjoon find ways to avoid him and his wrath because Jungkook is…
Corrupted. There is no other word for it. He feels a personality split - he feels like he’s in a constant daze between the old Jungkook and the real Jungkook and everything is a bother.
He wants to punch a wall when he needs to leave his office to ask Jimin a question.
Just as he’s walking out, Y/N is walking back into the building from lunch.
With. Her. Shoes. Off.
She’s juggling her work bag in one arm and her heels in the other as she stumbles into the office, flinging herself to Jimin’s front desk.
“Okay, Cinderella,” Jimin calls out, but Y/N looks too disheveled to properly respond, paralleling a panic that resembles Jungkook’s.
“Those stupid elevators,” she murmurs, and Jungkook just watches, mouth open as she tosses her heels into the trash can. “Broke my new Pradas.”
“I have a guy. I’ll send for a pair of Sam Edelmans for your journey home.”
She nods gratefully and finally lifts her gaze away from her broken heels to acknowledge Jungkook’s existence.
She jumps a little, startled.
Jungkook is surprised at her reaction, but doesn’t move. Instead, his eyes drop down to her feet, toes barely visible through the stockings, wriggling uncomfortably against the rug. Under his gaze.
“Can I help you?” the attitude is thick in her voice. He just shakes his head. “Thought so. Put it on the amex, Jimin.”
“Absolutely!”
The shoes don’t get delivered until Jimin and Namjoon are long gone for the night. He’s not sure if it’s their absence, or if Y/N has been typing particularly loud the whole day, but it’s only gotten worse after Jimin and Namjoon’s departure.
He thinks he might lose it.
The entire day, he’s had to watch her bare feet walk past the front of his office, running past Jimin and Namjoon’s desk every five minutes under the excuse that she had a big motion coming up, but Jungkook does not remember her ever leaving her office this much.
Now that they’re gone, she’s retreated to her cave, but he can still hear that incessant typing.
It’s interrupted by a rogue hello from the front of the office.
He figures those are the shoes so he goes out to sign for them, holding the green bag in his hand until the guy disappears past elevators.
He wonders what he thinks about delivering women’s shoes to a man, presumably alone in an office at 8 p.m. at night.
He sighs, audibly. Why has it come to this?
He begrudgingly walks over to Y/N’s office to bring her the heels, just happy that she’ll put those things away, thank god, but Jungkook would like to make something clear - he does not have a thing for feet.
He’s never actually been a big fan of fetishes. Sure, he was abusive at his job, but that usually came off in the bedroom - he was vanilla and he knew it.
So, he didn’t know where his corrupted, sick feelings toward Y/N were coming from, but it was undeniable - she brought out something animalistic in him. Something pubescent, needy.
He gulped outside of her door, knocking on it like he was at hell’s gates, voluntarily.
“Come in.”
He shouldn’t have.
Y/N was under her desk, on all fours, ass up in the air and the bottoms of her feet similarly elevated, as she reached for what looked like a pen.
“What is it?” She grunted as she finally managed to grab it and spun around to sit with her legs stretched out in front of her, back leaning against a desk le.
“Your shoes.” he said, eyes darkening and his nervous face melting off into something much less forgiving. He didn’t sound nervous.
She looked up at him, tearing her gaze away from the pen, when he threw the bag on the floor.
The bag sat there as they stared at each other - Jungkook looking down the bridge of his nose with an unexplained tension and Y/N with eyes wide and alert.
“Are you going to put it on?” He had absolutely no patience in his voice.
Don’t be mistaken - this is about the shoes, but this isn’t about the shoes.
She continued to look up at him, eyes getting more doll-like by the minute as her hands steadied by her hips on the floor, legs slightly bending at the knee as she rubbed her feet lightly against each other for a millisecond.
“I don’t know, this feels nice,” she whined, moving her toes, looking for some amusement from Jungkook before leaning down to stretch out her back - fingers reaching for her feet. “Better than walking around in heels all day.”
She slowly sat back up, and looked up at him half expecting a smile - she doesn’t think Jungkook really has it in him to ever do what he wants – but her face drops into a frown when instead she’s met with whatever she’s met with.
She can’t exactly describe it, but it makes something shake inside of her. Jungkook can see it - the jolt in her gaze.
He suddenly crouched down, next to her legs, his hand coming out to run down her calf before resting on her knee.
His touch is feather soft, but it’s jarring to have the guy go from avoiding you all day to fondling your leg- Jungkook can guess that much as she shivers under his teasing touch as soon as he lays contact.
“Did you have fun today?” he asked, eyes swimming with thoughts as Y/N tilted her head.
“If I knew I could have,” she says, a condescending dip to her brows as if to indicate, you don’t intimidate me, “I would have.”
His lips twitch, so do her legs a bit - he can tell that she’s thinking about moving them away. About stopping him.
“Should we have some fun, Y/N?”
She breathes a little more generously at his offer. He is out of his mind.
“Is this going to become a regular thing?”
The way she asks the question - he’s not sure what to make of it. Her lips are slightly pouty, her eyes apologetic, as if she’s sorry for even asking, and her shoulders are a little slumped.
She seems confused. She’s not sure what he’s doing, or what he’s trying to do.
He sighs, runs a hand over his face before crashing down onto his ass, sitting next to her legs with his knees bent, elbows resting on them in exhaustion as he tries to hold his chest up.
He keeps staring at her legs, longingly, and some of the docile Jungkook slips in, the darkness fades, and he just feels desperate.
“I don’t know, Y/N…” he whines, hand running back and forth on the inside of her knee mindlessly yet intently focused all at the same time.
He doesn’t notice the way she starts to squirm. He can’t. He’s too focused on dragging his hand then down to her ankles, fingers lazy circling the bone before dragging down to the inside just above the bottom of her foot, lightly scratching down to watch her retreat it back towards herself.
“Tickles,” she comments before returning it, flexing her toes a bit.
“Does it?” he asks.
With a bold move, he pulls that leg in his lap, sitting criss crossed in the same spot.
She lets him as he then runs his finger lightly down the bottom of her foot before circling in the middle, and she squirms a little harder, but he holds her still by the ankle, yanking her back into place when she really tries to pull it back.
“Sit still,” he orders, devious Jungkook slipping back into his features in an instant. “Can you?”
She considers it then shakes her head.
“I’ve never done anything with-”
“Me neither.” He beats her to it, lifting her foot up, her leg outstretched, to leave a kiss on that ankle bone as she watches. She flutters. Her thighs clamp together slightly. Her hand comes up to cover her eyes, her blushing cheeks. His vision blurs for a moment.
“But I want to.”
He lets the words hang there. Just a confession - not a request yet.
She looks more innocent than she ever has, but he sees the temptation across her features. Her curiosity always shines through.
“Do you want to try with me?” He offers, carefully laying her foot down onto his lap again, a bit closer to his aching member than before. She senses the shift, adjusts her hips a bit.
Jungkook waits for a response, but all she does is stare into his soul, and he knows he shouldn’t, but he takes that as a green light.
He takes her foot, and does the most abashed thing he has ever done in his life.
He bucks his hips against it, the smooth, staticky, nylon bottom of it.
Her eyes flutter again and she stretches her foot down just slightly to reciprocate and he moans, quivers - he’s a broken man.
“Mr. Jeon?” She calls out, but it feels like a hallucination to him. His hips are slightly erratic but he’s still holding himself back, so it just looks like he’s uncertain of himself as he bucks into her, but she seems to know how to play the game because she takes the initiative to join her other foot in the torture, pressing down more decidedly now against his aching member.
It fights the pressure, but he’s never known fire like this -the friction between the cloths, between his stupid useless dress pants, and her heavenly soft legs.
His hands wander across them, lightly pressing and moaning as he explores, mind swimming with dirtier and dirtier possibilities.
Her toe wriggles to poke at him, and she hums something like a moan out, which gets his attention, gets him to look right at her.
She’s…
He can’t help it, he’s off of the floor and on top of her in a matter of seconds, hands pushing her thighs up so that he can press his member flush against her center - skirt pushed up to her hips at the intrusion.
His lips are on hers, no hesitation, and his hands brace on either side of her head, weight leaning on his elbows in an effort not to crush her, but she doesn’t seem to mind either way.
Her hands are in his hair, scratching and pulling. Her lips are sliding against his with ease and palpable excitement - her tongue sly but clever against his.
His jaw is taunt because as much as he’s indulging, he’s also trying to cage and control that little monster that wants to rip absolutely everything off of her and pummel into her until she cries, god, could you imagine her crying?
“M-Mr. Jeon -”
“God, don’t call me that.” He begs, hips still gyrating against hers, trying to elicit more moans out of her mouth and, like song, they fall. Little hiccups and gasps in his ear and in his mouth, and there is so much saliva exchanged between them, he feels like he’s drinking her at this point.
Then, he feels it - a little stutter to her hips, a tightness to her fingers on his neck, and her eyes slightly scrunched as her mouth parts open.
He pulls away just the slightest bit to watch it - her falling apart.
He doesn’t change his pace, but lets her take the lead more in bucking up into him. He doesn’t think it’s possible, but it makes him swell a little more.
He lets her body go a little limp against the floor as he props himself up on his knees, one balanced right in between her legs, dangerously close to her sensitive core.
He could keep going, but he doesn’t.
His hands pick at each other as he sits back and looks at her from a distance as she sits up and pushes her skirt back down - cheeks are red, hair is way beyond tussled, down and out in waves that surround her like a halo. Her lips have been kissed. You can tell.
He is out of breath and his hands are desperately pulling down at his tie as he watches her, but she doesn’t make eye contact with him.
She almost looks shy. He doesn’t think he can take it.
“Y/N,” he tries, his mouth hesitating on each syllable. She bites her lip, eyes and hands scouring the ground for something. “I think we should…”
She finds it - it’s a hair tie. She looks back at him as she puts her hair up into a high pony.
His mouth goes a little slack. He’s never seen her in a ponytail.
“Should what?” She asks, looking down at a button on her shirt that’s popped clean off. She frowns.
He gulps, eyes catching the lace of her bra through the opening. He immediately directs his eyes to the ceiling and prays - to what, he’s not sure.
“Y/N…”
“You say my name a lot.”
He sighs, rubs a hand over his eyes, which are exhausted from having to stare up at the fluorescents to avoid her exacting gaze.
“Y/N, I think we should maybe just be friends.”
Silence. He can’t look at her.
“I- I don’t really know what we’re doing here, and it’s completely my fault, and I understand if you want to sue me, I won’t make you sign your rights away, just I can’t have you-”
“I’m going to go home. I don’t want to talk.” She’s on her feet in an instant.
As usual, he has no choice but to look at her, face shattered from her abruptness.
“Y/N -”
“I don’t have to have this conversation. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He’s on his feet. He’s slightly pissed.
He grabs her by the arm and pushes her down into one of her guest chairs before leaning down, grabbing each arm of the chair to corner her in, leaning in so she hears every word.
“I like you. You’re a good attorney. You’re a good friend. I would like to be friends with you. I want to stop whatever it is that we’re currently doing.”
She glances down at the boner that’s betraying his words.
“Y/N!” he snaps, eyes shut in frustration once again, quickly peeled open once he lets the anger subside the tiniest bit. “Eyes up here!”
“I’ll sue you if you don’t let me leave right now.”
“Sue me, then.”
She purses her lips. She’s lost.
“Two seconds, and then I’m done.” He promises, and softens his delivery by letting the arms go, giving her some space, and opting to crouch down instead.
She seems to converse better when she’s looking down at him. Listens better, too.
“I don’t want to mess this up. You, Jimin, Namjoon - I’m lucky to have found you guys -”
“Well, I found Namjoon and Jimin.”
“Y/N…”
“Sorry.” She appears slightly bashful.
“Let’s just… stop. We can just remain as good friends-”
“We are not friends. We’re co-workers.”
He wants to laugh.
“Can I get one full sentence out?” He begs, but it’s not hard to tell that he seems to find some charm in this. Maybe he’s lost his mind (if his therapist is reading this, yes, he’s aware that he’s clinically diagnosed as having lost his mind, he means this more figuratively).
“I get the jist, Jungkook.”
He falls onto his knee a little bit. She’s never called him by his first name.
“You want to be friends. You don’t want us to touch each other for fun.”
He’s a little shocked that she actually gets it, maybe without the nuance. But that’s fine. This is more than he can ask for.
“Exactly. No touching. Nothing weird. Just friends. Or coworkers.”
She smiles. It’s a real, rare smile from Y/N.
He smiles back, not exactly sure why. He personally feels like he just turned away from a pot of gold he’s been walking miles to find. Maybe it’s her smile. Maybe that’s enough to make him forget about this sacrifice.
When he goes home that night, his apartment feels like a vacant turtle shell - he feels too big for it. He feels too big for his bed. He has the AC cranked and his loosest pair of boxers on and the blankets strewn across the floor, but he still feels overheated.
All he can think about is the smile and the sacrifice.
What would she do to him if he didn’t hold them back?
Did she even want to do the things that she did with him? Her bluntness was one thing, but Jungkook felt constantly plagued by this idea that she was really just emotionally inapt - not really cognizant of Jungkook’s feelings at all. He wondered what she thought of the way he acted. Did she know that he liked her? Did she think this was just a physical thing?
She feels different things. He thinks back to that - what does that mean?
What did she feel when she came apart under him?
He doesn’t get much sleep, but he at least feels some moral victory when he steps in the office the next morning - he did the right thing.
Jimin and Namjoon are even more suspicious than before, but the dark circles around Jungkook’s eyes and his giant cup of black iced coffee ward them off from bothering him further.
The next few days pass without much incident, and the office returns to its early vibes of everyone treating Jungkook like an overbearing alien, and Y/N locked up in her office for most of the time.
Jungkook feels some vitality return back to his bones. From the trial to the feelings that Y/N had conjured, it had all taken a hit on his health. He had stopped working out, eating right, or keeping much if any order around him.
But, he was slowly getting back to his routine. Morning runs, fresh weekly barber visits, back to hitting PRs at the gym.
It was just the sleeping bit. He found that a little tough.
Because that’s when it would all hit him - everything he kept at bay.
The lingering feelings from his past every time an article about his old firm or an old coworker came out, touting their success. The calls from his accountant with updates on the firm’s success, which came with suggestions that he should maybe hire some more attorneys. He didn’t want to. The constant dread that every case is a lifeline, and if he loses a single one, then he’ll prove all of his detractors right.
And Y/N - constant, constant thoughts of Y/N - her legs, her voice, her eyes, the way she laughs, the way she kisses…
And the sex, or the lack of it.
I mean, he has tried.
Three weeks of (somewhat) normalcy at the firm convinced him to start going on dates again. Jimin begrudgingly got him a Raya profile - since he’s technically a famous political activist for mental health rights. Jimin also begrudgingly books some sexy dinners for him, and Jungkook tries. Meets amazing, intelligent women. Normal women. Who want to have normal sex with him.
He wants nothing to do with it.
A couple of minutes of a makeout sesh on his couch, with the ocean view, and he’s over it. At first, he tries. He tries to just have sex for the sake of it. Works with the first girl. She doesn’t seem impressed by the end of it, but texts him after, so he takes that as a good sign. The second girl - he can’t get it up. That crushes him. It crushes her. She blocks him from everything imaginable. He doesn’t blame her.
Then, he just opts to leave his dates with a kiss on the forehead and some flowers, and trudges it back to his apartment, where he pulls up the nastiest porn imaginable and just jacks it off for whatever minuscule relief that may afford him.
Every morning, Jimin greets him with a different insult about his face.
“Jesus, drink some water.”
“Oh god, did you get any sleep?”
“We have clients coming, take my concealer.”
He grabs the concealer from him, having become an expert at applying it at this point. Jimin is right - he looks awful. As he lingers at the front desk, concealer in hand, briefcase in the other, and face dropped low to the ground, in comes the exacerbator.
The devil on his shoulder that makes it impossible for him to get his rocks off.
Y/N. Y/N, who has stopped wearing skirts with the roll of the autumn months.
Y/N who now has a thing for stilettos and stilettos only. She has always been a supporter of heels, but these are something else.
She’s like a ballerina.
A slutty, filthy ballerine, who in recent weeks has gotten into the unabashed habit of checking him out every chance she gets.
He thanks god for her antisocial ways because if she spent any more time outside of that office than she currently does, Jungkook would have to be locked up (ideally with her).
But the hour-long assignment talks have stopped. He can’t live through a daily occurrence of those. Only when he must. Only when it’s essential.
When he first called her in after that god forsaken night, he was borderline hopeful. They had talked, had come to an agreement - they would be friends, co workers. Like before. Things could be good and not confusing again and he could just hold her hostage in his room and enjoy her presence and maybe sneak a look at her legs every now and then.
But one, she almost immediately stopped the skirts. Stopped the stockings.
That was fine. He actually appreciated that. Easier on his weary soul.
But at some point, a couple of weeks into the whole thing, she also stopped zoning out as much as she usually did.
No, she was zoned the fuck in.
The second she entered his space, there was an almost obligatory check-out of his junk. It would make him blush, shuffle, leave the room in a panic. He could almost always see a small smirk on her lips before he fled the scene.
It was subtle at first - not recurrent enough for him to call it out, but soon it got worse. It seemed with every date that Jimin booked for him, Y/N’s intentions on following through with Jungkook’s friendship offer was fading, corrupting.
If he spoke to her, she refused to look at his eyes. It was always his lips. Clearly, intently. She was glaring down his lips, licking her own, irises widening.
He would get hot, scared even.
He hated being alone in the same room as her. If she came in with a question, which she had started doing at an alarming frequency - more than twice a week - Jungkook would immediately call Jimin in to take notes because “this might be important.”
Or, he’d find a reason for her to ask Namjoon instead. He was smart, he figured he’d have the answer anyway.
She’d smirk at those efforts, would take one last look at his junk, or his ass, or his arms, bite her lip and saunter out. Stilettos clicking.
So, maybe things weren’t exactly back to normal. Maybe things weren’t exactly good.
But he lived to tell the tale - for two months, he was subjected to this torture, but he was still alive and kicking.
Barely. But still!
He’s half dozing off in front of his computer, thinking about this internal tension when Jimin spills inside, without a knock. Jungkook is used to it.
“Party inviteeeeessss! Fresh off the presssss!”
“How come Jungkook gets it first?!” Namjoon shouts from outside the hall. Jungkook sighs at the onslaught of noise and rubs his temple.
“Because he is my favorite!” Jimin shouts back before turning to Jungkook with an incredibly wide, grateful smile. “I saw the little extra bonus on my paycheck. For what? Setting up the dates?”
“For helping juggle everything while I lose my mind,” Jungkook corrected, reaching over for the paper extended out in Jimin’s hand. “You deserve it. What is this?”
“My birthday party! My boyfriend is holding a set at the Tiger.”
Jungkook scoffs.
“I haven’t been there since I was 22. We’re going to a rave for your 31st birthday?”
Jimin gives him that sideeye again. He’ll be in Y/N’s office soon, complaining about how boring Jungkook is.
“You really need to loosen up. You need this more than I do, grandpa.”
Jungkook does.
“Wait!”
Jimin turns on his heel.
“Is Y/N coming?”
Jimin laughs.
“God himself couldn’t make her show up to this.”
Jungkook smiles wide.
“Thank god,” he exhales. “I’ll be there. I could use a fun night.”
Turns out there was nothing to thank god for - much to Jungkook’s chagrin, Y/N shows up.
Jimin and Namjoon are flabbergasted.
Jungkook wants to die (note to therapist: this is a joke).
“Happy birthday, Jimin.”
She hands all of them a shot - drinks are on her tonight. They all take it down with a wary eye on her, and Namjoon gives Jungkook a poke as Jimin grabs Y/N to go order bottle service for their table - he gets on board with raver Y/N a little too fast for his own good.
“Over under on her poisoning the shots?”
Jungkook thinks.
“I think someone poisoned her shot.”
Namjoon nods, and the duo stare as Jimin and Y/N bounce through the crowd, looking ethereal together.
If it wasn’t for her coming up to them and staring at them for a clean ten seconds, Jungkook would have had no idea that that was her.
Hair is down, super wavy - like beachy wavy. A tiny section is pinned up on either side , some pieces braided, and a few loose ones just falling about her face. The locks float and bounce about her, curved into a v that ends just above her hips.
She’s wearing a black layered mesh, wrapped dress that flutters at the sleeves and bunches all around her body before falling into a subtle but frilly skirt, wavy like her hair, around her hips, accentuating her curves. She has the finest mesh stockings on, and a pair of tall black platforms, her toes painted a dark glittery navy.
She has these cute gold hoops on - a little bulky. She has less makeup on than usual, the accent just being on her long, wispy lashes and a small blush to the tops of her cheek.
Her dress hangs off of shoulders, falling into a heart around her decollete.
It’s all so delicately but tightly clung to her, and the length is just unfair. It stops just barely right above the curve of her ass, and she moves so purposefully in it that it stays in place, but one wonders what they could see if it moved by just one centimeter.
Jungkook burns the picture in his brain and does not, even for one second take his eyes off of her figure as she prances around with Jimin, taking a second to indulge on the dance floor, the duo dancing nasty with each other.
“Have you seen this before?” Jungkook asks, half acknowledging Namjoon’s presence and half treating him like a Google search engine.
“Uh, you mean like…”
“Like that - like Jimin and Y/n grinding together-”
“Yeah, relax, like once or twice. She doesn’t party much, but when she does-”
“Jesus.” Jungkook finishes for him, downing the whiskey in his glass like it’s water as he watches her move.
He wants to die (note to therapist: dude, he kind of means it this time), or he wants to kill something (P.S. this can’t be normal, right?) - he’s not exactly sure.
He just watches for the time being - he can become a serial killer later.
Her back is right up against Jimin’s, his hands on her ribs, scratching at her dress as he whispers into her ear, moving their hips as she throws her head back, arms stretched out in the air, swaying to the beat.
People look. Jungkook’s keeping track of every man that looks. He’s adding them to the kill list.
“Just a friendly reminder that he’s gay.” Namjoon offers, but it’s too late. He’s already on his feet, piercing through the crowd and beelining it for Jimin and Y/N.
With his gaze locked on their bodies, he fails to see Y/N’s eyes on him the entire time, lips curved in victory as she watches him lose it. Jimin is too busy staring at a 6 foot 2 hunk at the back of the bar to notice, basically eye fucking him as he holds onto Y/N.
Jungkook appears in front of them with an expression that no one can read. Namjoon is hot on his tail, and someone should pity him for how often he’s chasing these people to their problems.
“I thought you guys were getting bottles.” Jungkook accuses, voice loud over the music.
“Yeah, we got distracted,” Jimin says with a giggle as he winks over at the hunk, ass tutted out slightly as he slowly gets Y/N to gyrate their bodies down and back up.
Jungkook has had it. He grabs Y/N by the arm and pulls her away.
They all stare at him, all three of them. Jungkook stares too, stupidly, at his grip, then back up at everyone around him before landing on Y/N’s.
“Uh, I’ll go with her.” he sputters, tearing his eyes away to look defensively at Jimin and Namjoon. “I’ll go get the bottles with her. Since Jimin is distracted…”
“He said, we got distracted. Go with Namjoon…” Y/N corrects, but Jungkook is already pulling her away from the other two’s accusatory glances and dragging her towards the bar. He inadvertently slams her back against the counter and drops each hand on either side of her shoulders to avoid crashing into her.
She just stands there, looking up at him all pretty.
She’s a nose push away and he gulps, eyes darting up to the bartenders, holding out his amex like a white flag, desperately trying to nail one down, and at the silver glint, two push to make it his way.
“Could we get a bottle service menu? For the table back there?”
One of them nods, pulls one out and drops it on the counter. Y/N turns around, ass pressed flat against his cock, and looks down at the menu.
He chokes, and tries to cover it with a cough. Push his hips away a little.
But the pretty little monster follows, pushing her hips back to follow his, borderline grinding into him, and he feels it - he feels the dress move.
God, what he would give to just bend down, spread her open, and stare -
“We’ll take three bottles of Casa Migos, three bottles of 1942. A pack of redbulls, water, and seltzer.”
“Are we camping out here?” Jungkook jokes, but she doesn’t reciprocate, just presses against him again. He groans. “Cut it out. We talked about this.”
She pushes off and turns around, creates some space between them. Jungkook wants to thank her as she glares him down.
“And what did I do exactly?” She asks with a raised eyebrow. “Follow you as you dragged me to the bar, slammed me against it and rubbed your dick against my ass? Have you noticed that you’re the only that initiates contact around here? I’m fine minding my own business-”
“You’re missing some of the context-”
“And what’s the context? That you couldn’t stand to see me touching Jimin?”
Jungkook swallows.
“Don’t blame you. He’s a pretty boy. I wish he’d let me…” She starts before staring off and letting out a fat sigh in what sounds to be the name of boredom.
“When I have fun,” she says, eyes widening a little in emphasis before narrowing, “I have fun.”
Someone opens a fridge beneath the bar. The tiny hint of breeze carries her perfume - mostly rubbed off on her subway trip - a direct shot to his nostril. Tonka, pepper, something flowery.
And then some of her..
“So, if you don’t want us to touch each other for fun, then leave me alone.”
Ouch.
“I don’t have fun often. I’m not always in the mood.”
Jungkook doesn’t know if he believes that.
“So, when I want to have fun, I don’t like it when people try to stop me, or try to force me into some serious, tense situation.”
Oh.
“It makes me mean. I don’t know why. I just don’t like it.”
Jungkook steps off completely, letting go of his grip on the counter. Their tab is open, their orders are in, job is done, they can rejoin the group and forget he ever reacted like that.
He walks back to the table with her, and she seems like she’s over it - over her mood to have fun. She ignores at least five guys on the way back who try to catch her eye, grab at her.
Maybe it doesn’t help that he’s walking behind her, glaring off any interest headed her way with wolf-like stare, all the while trying to appear normal every time she catches a glance at him. But she barely looks at him so it’s not much of an issue.
“We should add that to the Y/N handbook,” he comments before they walk up to their section. “The thing about you and your fun.”
She stops, looks at him. Jungkook can’t read her expression (when can he ever?).
When they join Jimin and Namjoon, it becomes evident that they’ve beaten Y/N and Jungkook to the bottles as the table overflows with a wide variety of them.
“Jimin’s boyfriend sent them over! He said he liked the performance with Y/N!” Namjoon exclaims, two champagne bottles in his hands, tops still foamy.
Y/N, as if they hadn’t just had a little spat, stares at Jungkook until he puts two and two together and holds his hand out for Y/N to hold as she takes the two steps to climb up to the table, her big heels making her a little unsteady. He follows in after her, and isn’t necessarily shocked when she starts pouring out a bottle of tequila into a cup with ice that Namjoon hands her upon sitting.
Jungkook tries to ignore him whispering in her ear, “I thought you looked good, too.”
Tries to ignore Y/n giving his knee a squeeze.
Jungkook follows in after her, sitting right against her, against those mesh lined legs - sandwiching her between himself and Namjoon.
There is a bit of confusion from the other two as she chugs the liquor down and reaches for Namjoon’s full glass, muttering a quick “gimme” before downing that with ease as well, and looking around for her next consumption.
“Uh…”
Jungkook smiles internally at Jimin and Namjoon’s confusion. He’s not that confused because he’s already seen Y/N drink like this that night with the… belt thing…
He blushes and squirms at the memory.
“Boss, I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you drink like this,” Namjoon comments, and without looking up, in the middle of concocting her next drink - redbull and vodka, she says:
“It’s fine, Jungkook will take care of me.”
Jimin drops his glass.
“Mazeltov.” Namjoon quips, eyes just as wide as Jimin’s
Silence overtakes again.
“Let’s go dance while they clean this up.” Y/N offers.
Jungkook doesn’t know what to do with himself. Maybe if Jimin and Namjoon weren’t around, he’d be less lost on where to put his hands, but their aghast looks make him feel like a seal. A penguin. He’s two stepping out of respect and fear.
Y/N, with a drink in her hand, is a really good dancer.
Not like technically, but she’s just mastered this effortlessly cool, sexy way of moving her body to any given song. It feels algorithmic, but it looks so fun.
Jungkook wants to move with it, but alas, the looks.
She suddenly stops, stomping her foot down a little as she looks at the littler of men in front of her.
“Why does no one want to dance?!”
And with a true stab to the back, Namjoon jumps forward like it’s nobody’s business.
“Lead the way, boss.” He says, eyes twinkling and smile wide.
No, Jungkook is going to kill him. For sure. He has to.
“I call Jungkook!” Jimin shrieks, wrapping his hands around his neck, looking up at the DJ booth longingly while his boyfriend, DJ V-vibes, looks back into a booth full of scantily clad women, his own shirt off and away in the crowd. “Maybe it’ll make him jealous if it’s with a guy.”
Jungkook takes a step back from the Namjoon-Y/N torture to look down at Jimin, who looks a little heartbroken. His brother in Christ. So they shall suffer together.
“I’m sorry, Jimin, he doesn’t know what he’s missing.” He comments, kissing the boy’s forehead, making him push at his chest in disgust immediately after. Jungkook laughs, glad for the touch of humor as the potential of what Namjoon and Y/N are doing burns in the back of his head. He refuses to look.
“Let’s go show him.” Jimin says, eyes twinkling.
He situates them next to Namjoon and Y/N (Jungkook still refuses to look) and though Jungkook is a tad bit shy about it, he dances with Jimin just fine, even moves him around a bit, making it a point to hold him close when his boyfriend glances down.
“You’re the best, Jungkook!” Jimin praises into his ear, giggling endlessly. “But you gotta loosen up, you know.”
Jungkook shakes his head. Jimin has no idea. He finally looks up at the duo next to them, and he’s about ready to grab a glass from the bar, smash it to a point, and march up to Namjoon with it.
He towers over Y/N as they face each other, his hands resting just - and Jungkook cannot emphasize this enough, it’s like maybe a millimeter off from it - above her ass. Not quite at her hip bones, where it would have been somewhat respectful, but much lower, touches away from her curves.
And inadvertently, perhaps, they do graze those curves and other places on Y/N’s body as she opts to jump to V-vibes’s change in tempo - a high build up house number.
She’s laughing, smiling, jumping, throwing her hair around, and she looks so carefree, and Namjoon just stands there, hops lightly along and tries to hold her steady, and for what Jungkook seethes.
Let the girl jump.
“Seriously, relax, Jungkook,” Jimin says, right into his ear so Jungkook doesn’t miss a single syllable. “You know, Y/N’s jealousy might be as blind as yours.”
Jungkook’s ears perk up at that for sure and he faces Jimin with an interested tilt to his brows.
“Good boy,” Jimin praises, his own eyes flickering up towards V-vibes. “Now, follow my lead. No questions.”
Fair enough, Jungkook thinks, and doesn’t think twice when Jimin pulls him in for a kiss. He kisses back, lets Jimin hold onto his waist as his own hands hover, a little unsure.
Just how much did he drink tonight?
Before Jimin can take in any further, Y/N’s heels slam into place and get their attention.
They pull off rather wantonly, and Jungkook’s inebriation, and Jimin’s work, melts off that tedious mask he always keeps on.
Y/N sees it - Jungkook has that evil look on.
She doesn’t say anything, just gets off of Namjoon and marches off.
Namjoon backs down as if he expected nothing from the dance and moves over to shimmy with Jimin, who is still giggly from the kiss. Namjoon shoots a look at Jungkook that’s hard to read as Jungkook stares down in the direction of Y/N’s steps.
Maybe something along the lines of how-did-that-make-you-feel, which is doubly coupled by Jimin’s soft gaze reading, most likely, go-get-your-girl.
And he does. Why wouldn’t he?
God, sometimes he hates this newfound morality that’s found him. Why does he try? What good is it to be good? This world - there is too much money in it, too many weirdos. Something weird, twisted, and sick happens, every time. It’s bound to.
So, why is he fighting? Why is he pouting? Why is he dragging himself around this club like a desperate little puppy?
Why is he holding himself back from fucking Y/N into his sheets for three weeks straight, or until she’s had it and puts in her two week notice? Why doesn’t he hire a bunch of burnt out big law associates begging, banging at his door? Use them, abuse them, and sweat shop their earnings into his pocket and live a good, fat, happy life.
Why doesn’t he?
He finds Y/N in some random man’s arms, and he doesn’t even think twice before ripping her away, dragging her towards the bathrooms.
Surprisingly, she fights him. Pissed and heels dragging and tagging on the floor, leaning endlessly away from him as he drags her away from the music, the alcohol, the crowds, and into the secluded hallway full of gender neutral bathrooms.
“Let go of me!” She hisses through gritted teeth, trying with all her might to pull her wrist out of his cuffed, tight hold. “This is kidnapping - false imprisonment!
He thanks god for the cosmopolitan wealth that’s flooded the city in the last ten years. He praises Jesus for the sacrilege of the rich in turning away from a struggling woman, and the willingness of the butler to take the crisp five hundred bills Jungkook shoves at him in exchange for letting the duo into one of those bathrooms, standing in front of it surreptitiously for any passerbys.
“This one is out of service.”
Jungkook wastes no time once that door shuts and locks.
He has her against the wall, hands holding her face steady and hips digging confidently into hers as he kisses her like he got direct permission from God.
She doesn’t kiss back, grunts and tries to kick him off, and succeeds for a second, but he’s relentless, back on her hot body within seconds, lips running down the length of her neck before finding her jugular, making her squirm, hands helplessly trying to push at his chest.
“It’s no use,” he murmurs into her skin, hands coming up to grab her wrists, steadying her hands against the wall. He licks the back of her ear, and she moans like she’s made for it, chin tilting up the tiniest bit, and her center drags against the denim bulge that presses needy against her.
“Let me go,” she jeers, hands now struggling against his grip, but he opts to lick the same spot, a little slower, and digs his hips up against her, a little harder.
Her face shifts, changes, and her mouth instead opens into a “...please.”
She shakes her head, tries to straighten out her thoughts, and he laughs at her.
“No use, Y/N.” He whispers again, eyes looking straight into hers - and for the first time - she looks at him, deer in the headlights.
Absolutely terrified.
Something disgusting in him surfaces, something not of him.
“What do you want?” he asks, getting her hands into one concise hold in one hand as he moves them above her head, elongating her torso a bit and..
Making that dress ride up the tiniest bit. But as aforementioned, it really only needs to move a centimeter to make a difference.
She purses her lips, twists in his hold a bit, but his hands, and his hip against her, is strong enough to hold her down. Forever, if he wants.
“I want Jimin-” She starts to say, pettiness dripping from her tongue, but he tsks her off before letting a condescending, borderline insulting smile slip onto his face.
His teeth poke through slightly and his eyebrows tilt in fake empathy.
“God, you’re a terrible liar, aren’t you, Y/N?”
He grinds into her, watches her mouth open into a small, helpless gasp.
“You’re so good at so many things,” he praises, staring down at their hips as he repeats the movement, gaze shooting up when she moans, her composure falling apart. He cracks another smile. “But you’re no good at lying, pretty girl.”
He lets go of her hands. She doesn’t try to run.
He needs this. He knows how awful he’s being right now, but you have to understand, he needs this. He thinks he’ll die if he doesn’t have it.
“On your knees.” he orders, and his heart skips a beat when her eyes glance down to his belt.
He has different plans, but likes the callback. Likes her memory for remembering that.
He can see internal tension on her face, eyes flickering - for the first time, unsure of where to land - as she decides between obedience and resistance.
He wonders, is she looking for the safest choice? Or just trying to decide which she wants?
“Don’t make me repeat myself,” he whispers, a small encouragement, and she takes it.
Slowly lowers her knees down in defeat, but her avoidant gaze seems to be where rebellion sinks and finds shelter in.
He hums at the sight of it, hand reaching down to her chin, to lift her face back up to his. She still doesn’t catch his eyes.
“Look at me.”
She does.
His lips twitch, and his fingers graze her jaw, drag up to her bottom lip. He looks into her eyes as he tugs at the flesh ever so softly with his index and middle finger.
Her eyes harden, her brows start to furrow.
His gaze mirrors.
“Open.” He demands, simple.
She purses her lips, thinks, then shakes her head, holding his gaze steady.
But he sees it, still there, still feeding him - the fear.
“I said, open.”
She finally does, barely, but it's enough for him to push the two fingers past the opening, the pads exploring the expanse of her tongue, immediately pressing down on the soft flesh.
He moans, her gaze softens.
“Fuck, Y/N,” he gasps out, and he helplessly grabs his member through his jeans with his other hand, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he tries. He really does his best to leash that monster. To dull the desire.
But the second his eyes open, he’s ruined.
It’s helpless.
She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move a muscle as he unzips his pants, and pulls himself out - hard and proud.
The head, dying for contact, pushes past that opening, and he praises her for letting that jaw go slack for him.
She tries closing her eyes, he lightly slaps her cheek. Her eyes go infinitely darker.
“I need you to look at me,” he states, plainly before thrusting further into her mouth, going as far as she’ll let him, and he’s not surprised that’s it not much, but he’s surprised at how good it feels.
How messy it gets.
He’s never had a blowjob feel so… ethereal, magical. Her mouth wraps around him like a dream - the noises, the wetness, her little hums and gasps - it’s like an acid trip.
He praises her, pulls off, and kisses her like it’s nothing.
And she’s so pliant, so wanton - mouth opening every single time, ready to let his tongue do whatever it wants.
“I’m going to cum in your mouth,” he says, with no room for questions.
If she objects, she doesn’t tell him, and he’s back in her mouth in no time. Before he can grab a hold of himself, her hands take its place, and that’s enough.
Her trying to get him off, for those two seconds, those pumps, is enough.
He holds her head down, almost unwittingly, as his orgasm hits him. He feels his semen splosh around her mouth, feels her gag, feels her try to pull away, but like, he said -
It’s helpless.
He holds her still until he’s done, and when he pulls out, he knows for sure she’s going to try to spit.
So, he doesn’t let her. He immediately pulls her to her feet, presses her against the wall and kisses the cum into her mouth, down her throat.
She tries pushing at him, resisting, but he’s got her down, hand moving her face in whatever direction he wants as he kisses every inch, curve of her mouth.
He’s insane. He’s officially lost it.
When he pulls away, he regrets not taking art classes.
He could paint that vision for the rest of his life - that might just be his true calling.
She looks just as out of her mind. She takes maybe a breath and a half in before grabbing at his collar and trying to pull him back in for a kiss. But he stops her.
Takes a step back, reaches for his phone.
“Hear me out,” he starts, but she’s immediately wary.
“Just come back and kiss me, please-”
“I want a picture.”
“Oh.”
She stops, moves off of the wall to take a look at her face in the mirror before leaning back against the wall.
“Oh.”
Jungkook nods.
“Yeah,” he confirms.
“I look good.”
He chokes a little.
“I’ll never ask for anything ever again. I’ll delete it - delete myself - if you ever asked. Immediately, no questions.”
She doesn’t look like she’s looking for persuasion, just a reason.
Instead, she puts out a feeler - a quid pro quo.
“What do I get?”
Jungkook’s mouth dries.
“W-What do you want?”
He has never regretted anything more than his life.
“I’ll figure it out. Just take your picture.”
He doesn’t let the opportunity slip. Y/n asks how she should pose. He says that she shouldn’t.
So she doesn’t.
He leans into kiss her one last time, wanting her mouth covered in his saliva before he gets the perfect shot - he feels like a director, a photographer.
He’s never kissed someone who is this pliant, this willing…
He pulls off with a comical pop, eyes glazed over, and Y/N cracks out into a little giggle at his reaction, and he does it. Takes the picture. Y/N, with eyes glistening, lips glowing and red, and little bite marks crawling up her neck.
She leaves the bathroom first. He follows shortly after, only to find that she’s fled home.
Probably for the best, he thinks. He’s not sure what would become of him if she let him take her home.
That gratitude lasts until she calls in sick the next week.
“She does indeed get sick every now and then. Really sick actually. Like everyone else.” Jimin reassures him, when he looks a little panicked at the announcement.
Jungkook breathes a little easier, but he’s still plagued by the idea that it’s somehow his fault.
He sends her a quick email telling her to turn her laptop off before taking over her assignments for the day, using the panic and the anxiety in his chest to fuel him to peak productivity.
Jimin comes in with a mug of coffee, then refills, every now and then, and Namjoon periodically stops by to jot down bouts of tasks that Jungkook assigns to him.
The next day, his panic grows deeper. He gets to obsessing, wondering, how sick is she? Is she really sick? Like really, really sick? Should he call? Would it be inappropriate to call?
By 2 p.m. Wednesday, he is at her apartment, flowers in one hand and her favorite pho in the other (Jimin tells him where to pick it up from).
She answers the door, adorned in a black slip, covered by a matching thin robe - not conservative, but not skimpy. Still a nightmare for poor Jungkook and his genuinely pure intentions.
He just wanted to make sure she was okay.
“I’m going to sue Jimin for giving you my address.”
He laughs awkwardly and squeezes in through the doorway past her, too impatient and stressed out in the hallway to wait for her to move over, inviting him in.
“Why is Jimin always to blame?”
He regrets saying that. She slams the door shut and glares at him and the contents he drops all over her house. Flowers on her glass coffee table, pho resting on her white carpet in its take out bag.
Her cheeks burn red with annoyance.
She also has no makeup on, and Jungkook notices that her face is a little paler than she lets on, her features a little less full, less intimidating.
Prettier, he thinks, without makeup.
“You’re right,” she chastises. “This is your fault. You brought yourself here. Probably harassed Jimin for the address to make him give it up.”
“Hey, Jimin, where does Y/N live-”
“345 Park Way Plaza. Right across the bridge.”
“Right,” he mutters, wipes his sweaty hands on his dress pants. “Well, I just wanted to see that you were okay, so…”
“Why do you have a boner?”
His eyes widen, his eyes drop, and sure enough-
He grabs his head, shakes it back and forth.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me!”
She laughs. Like that first day. During the interview.
He drops his hands, laughs a little with her.
“Do you want to split this?” she asks, holding the pho bag up towards him.
He nods. “If you don’t mind.”
She heats it up into two bowls, makes him sit at the dining table with her despite his insistence that he’s okay standing. He just doesn’t want to get sick (a worse boner), but he’s kind of glad of her persuasion. It feels warm sitting at the table with her. Cozy.
And Jungkook likes to talk when he’s cozy.
“The other day, at Jimin’s birthday thing…” he starts, blushing a little at his soup as he gets out the premise. He feels her stare. “You said something.”
“Yeah?”
“You said,” he looks up for a second, trying to see where her head is at. No idea, back to the noodles, he continues, “You don’t like it when someone stops you from trying to have fun. When you’re trying to have fun.”
“Uhhuh.”
“Is that one of those different feelings you get?”
She pushes a soup spoon around the rim of her bowl, eyes entrenched in thought.
“Yeah. It is. I get that one a lot.”
He nods, processes her answer.
“Is that how that guy made you feel?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed slightly as if trying to mask his fear in asking the question. He reluctantly looks at her, jaw slightly tense, tongue poking a rice noodle against his cheek. “The dead one.”
She stabs her chopsticks down into a meatball.
“Sorry.”
Her jaw similarly tenses, but she seems okay after a long, deep breath.
“No. Not at all. I never felt that way towards him. He could stop my fun all he wanted.”
He’s a little shocked. He thought he had the narrative down. He was convinced.
The dead guy was into her, she was using him for something (social credit?), and he eventually lost his mind because Y/N was cruel and insane- I mean, is that not what was happening to him right now?
Did she maybe just not want to admit to her criminology in front of her next victim?
He hated himself for thinking like this, but then again, after everything he had been through, he felt justified in being curious. They had only known each other for half a year. They had gotten too close. He didn’t need a repeat of Minji’s betrayal.
He wasn’t wrong for trying to protect himself.
“How did you feel then?”
She hears the accusation in his tone, as if he’s ready to catch her in a lie - in an impossibility. She knows it - he thinks her incapable of feeling anything else towards that man other than apathy.
“Are you interested in the truth or the myth?”
He chuckles.
“What does that mean?”
She tilts her head, reaches for her water.
“I think you’re into me.”
He hesitates. Then nods.
“Obviously.”
She sips her water, eyes on fire.
“I think you’re into how scary I am.”
He doesn’t have an answer for her.
“Do you want to keep being scared, or do you want to know me?”
He has been with women so emotional they could fill pools with their tears at how deeply they feel things. He has been emotional himself, in the sewers of depression. He has met authors, creatives - truly intuitive souls.
Yet no one has ever asked him a question so observant, so emotionally intelligent.
“I’m not sure. That’s the honest answer.”
“Do you want me to choose for you?”
So, it’s like a game.
He nods.
“What do I get for this? For sharing myself with you?”
Jungkook tries to brush off the weight of that.
“You’re really wracking up those favors, don’t you think?” Her eyes don’t share in his amusement. “Fine, what do you want?”
Her eyes glimmer.
“That’s a surprise.”
His collar tightens. He tenses his shoulders, puts his cutlery down.
She smiles a little, gets out of her seat and grabs his arm, dragging him out of his chair and to a room towards the back of her apartment - a little movie room.
Nothing but the white light of the projector, a cozy sectional outlining the parameters of the wall.
She leaves him standing in the middle and marches down to sit on the couch, legs sprawled to one side, her night dress pulling around at her bodice in the most delicious way imaginable.
“What are we doing?” he asks, suddenly feeling exposed, scared in the isolated room.
She smiles, bites down onto her lip as if to contain herself.
“You get to ask questions, if you want. If I answer, you strip. Simple.”
He smiles, cocky and happy with the arrangement.
“You trying to see me naked, Y/L/N?”
She doesn’t answer, just stares.
“I’ll give you this one for free.” He offers, starts to unbutton his top.
She watches, tongue licking over where she was just biting, catching a drop of blood on its way down.
He wants to laugh, wants to scream as he peels it off, tosses it in her direction, lets her watch his muscles settle.
He hit abs this morning. Thank Jesus.
He hopes that as her eyes drag over every inch he’s bared that she thinks about him holding her down, overpowering her in that bathroom. Because that’s what he’s thinking of as he tries to wrack his brain for the perfect question to ask her, but it feels impossible because there is so much.
He is in a constant state of curiosity about her.
So, he just picks up where they left off.
“How did you feel about him, then? That guy? If you didn’t hate him for ruining your fun, then what?”
“His name was Eunwoo. You can call him that.”
He raises his brow - doesn’t count. That wasn’t his question.
“I felt, I don’t know, the opposite of that. He was my fun. My, uh, first fun. Ever.”
Oh.
That answer feels large enough for him to justify taking off his pants - she’s earned it.
Her eyes drop down to his member, without shame, and as if she wasn’t just talking about her dead ex lover, she seems fixated and enticed enough to answer anything he’d ask.
He tries to focus on the next question, but how is he supposed to, when she looks this hungry, and he has just the right cure?
“How did he feel about you?”
Her gaze flickers up to his eyes. She suddenly burns, turns inward. Shrinks without shrinking. He watches it happen.
“I don’t know.”
“Are you being honest?”
She thinks a little harder, face concentrated, troubled.
“He said he loved me. I didn’t believe him. He had fun with a lot of other people. Spent time with a lot of people, but still. I would have been okay, uh, I don’t know, just spending forever with him-”
Jungkook cuts her off, he has to. He takes off a sock, moves onto the next question.
“Did you ever ask him not to have fun with other people?”
She shakes her head. He ditches the next sock.
“What happened with the - You know the - well, Jimin told me -”
“I didn’t tell him. Didn’t think he’d care.”
“But he cared?”
She doesn’t call out the fact that he doesn’t strip any further than he already has. Seems to appreciate the weight of the moment.
They feel so far apart in this room.
“Yeah,” she said, voice cracking a little, and she tried hard to hide it behind a cough, an adjustment of her body, poking at one of her toes. “A lot, apparently.”
He doesn’t know what to do but to watch her slumped body from a distance.
“Y/N?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you remember the day his parents sent the roses?”
“You mean the day you tied up my hands with your belt-”
He sighs, fingers to his brow.
“Yeah, yeah, but before that. When I hugged you.”
She stops.
“Uhhuh. Why?”
“Did you like that?”
She looks around, shy again.
He takes a little more initiative.
“If I hugged you again,” he offers, taking a step closer. “Would you like that?”
She shrugs. He smiles. Beckons her over.
She stands up obediently and walks over - slow and tested.
When she’s within arm’s reach, he pulls her in, grabs her tight, doesn’t mind her looser hold on him back.
She melts into his embrace soon enough.
“Now, imagine if we did this lying down.”
So, they try.
He drags them over to Y/N’s bedroom. One wall is covered in bookshelves, covered in books. In front of the bookshelves are additional piles, more heaps of books.
There is a desk - a simple writer’s desk facing her window which faces one of the expansive parks in the city. It’s covered in journals, notebooks, pens, notepads.
It doesn’t all seem to be legal stuff- in fact, most of the books on the wall are psychology books: How to Evoke Social Comfort; Making Friends 101; The Human Psyche for Dummies; The Three Rules to Contentment.
There are even more books on philosophy, religion - ancient and organized alike. There are some books in what appears to be Greek, Italian, even some Latin - classics.
“Can you speak-”
“I understand enough to read.” she cuts him off curtly.
“You got a lot going on in that head, don’t you, Ms. Y/L/N?”
Her bed looks untouched, unused, and when he sits down on the edge, it feels like no one has ever slept on this mattress.
He doesn’t question it for the time being and just softly holds onto her hands, floating her over in between his legs.
“Thank you for sharing all of that with me,” he whispers, looking softly into her eyes as he kisses the corner of her mouth, watching her wriggle a bit in his hold. “For letting me hold you.”
She really blushes now, it even hits her chest a bit, making her decollete glow a soft pink.
His fingers brush the skin as if it belongs to him, eyes watching goosebumps raise in his fingers’ wake.
“How do I make you feel?”
She gulps. Tries to think of an escape.
“Are we still playing the game?”
He smiles, clever. He doesn’t realize that he’s been holding her jaw, slowly stroking it with his thumb. He chuckles a little.
“Sure, if you want.”
She bites onto a particularly tortured corner of her lip, eyes shy and wide before they close, and he follows suit, letting her close the distance to his lips.
He immediately moans into the kiss, pulls her in close by the small of her back. She immediately curls into him, purrs at the weight of his hand on her back.
An absolute kitten.
He drags her over the bed, but instead of mounting her, he just pulls her into his chest, hugs her strong like before.
She doesn’t resist the hold, just takes a second to get comfortable.
They settle on Jungkook on his back, with Y/N’s head on his chest, curled into his side. Her fingers tap against his ribs, and he tries hard to fight the tickles it sends down his spine because he’s oh so scared of startling her.
“You don’t trust people very quickly, do you?” he asks, bravely brushing a loose curl out of her face. She stares up at him - she hasn’t stopped staring at him. He doesn’t mind.
“No.” She answers quietly, fingernail lightly scratching his abdomen. She digs it in a little. He fights the yelp, and wants her to keep playing.
“You know that doesn’t mean that sex is the only thing that feels good. It just means everything else takes a little longer to feel good.”
His fingers trace light circles on her arms as he speaks, and she basically purrs into him, affirming his statement.
“Sometimes, you have to trust someone to enjoy their presence.” He continues, enjoying this little lecture he’s giving her.
He’s not sure if she’s listening.
“Their smell.” his nose digs into her hair, he climbs on top of her.
She wriggles a bit, breathes heavily.
He has some of his body weight on her, not being shy about crushing her down, but she seems to like it.
“Their heat.”
He pecks her lips. She stares up at him, whole body pinned down.
“What are you thinking?” he asks, pecking her cheek, her forehead. She pushes him away. Her face is more serious than before.
“How do you feel about me?” She asks, not quite looking at him when she does.
It’s his turn to be clever now.
“Are you going to strip if I tell you?”
“I’ll strip regardless.”
He laughs, laughs so insanely loud. She smiles. She feels that she has her answer.
Lucky.👑 (Kanto Manji Mikey)
Female reader, Au-ish, Drug and alcohol use, sexual content 18+.. (I know it's spelled Benkei but it kept auto correcting to Benkie... I just left it. Sorry!)
Your best friend was so cool! Not only did she have an older boyfriend who was in a gang, but he showed her off, spoiled her, and gave her all the attention she wanted.. You wished you had that, especially since you didn't get it at home... Maybe you'll get Lucky one day?
You mindlessly pushed the slop your mother called food around on your plate.
"I benched 280 today. The coach says I'll be reaching my goal in no time!"
"I placed first on state wide testing... Guess you'll be calling me Dr L/n soon!.. too bad some of us weren't born with the brains."
Oh you could feel your stupid sisters eyes on you, in fact you could feel your whole family's eyes on you.
You heard the sound of wine filling up an empty glass. "Y/n? Your turn.. Did you do something for once today?"
You hated this part of dinner. You swear your mom started this whole bullshit "name an accomplishment you've done today!" crap just to shame you.
You stayed quiet and she scoffed. "Typical."
Your eyes found your father's in hopes that he would defend you. But he had given that up long ago. He loudly chewed his food as he spoke to you. " You need to get your shit together Y/n. We got a call from you school today, your marks are plummeting. I'm not working my ass off to send you to a private school just to slack off."
If only your mom knew that your dad got a raise because he gave it to himself and started stealing money from his company.. You read his emails when he left them open once..
You pushed your plate away, his loud chewing making whatever little appetite you had left disappear. "I'm going to my room. I'm not hungry."
Your mom waved you off and mumbled something about you not needing the extra pounds anyways.
Your father called out to you. "Make sure you stay away from that chicken head you call a friend too! Shes a bad influence!"
You could hear your brother and sister laughing..
If only your parents knew that your brothers "gym bros" bent his ass over the equipment and not only shoved their dicks up his ass but a needle as well.. His muscles came from steroids.
And he had the audacity to call your only friend a "chicken head"? If only he knew your sister kept her head bobbing under her male teachers desk to get those A's they're so proud of..
You opened the door to your room and let out a quick gasp. Said bad influence was spread out on your bed, admiring the poster of the hot male model you had on your ceiling. " So I'm a chicken head huh? Haven't heard that one before."
Oh your chest was heated at that, but Miva laughed and held her arms open for you. Shes been your friend since forever-- it was normal for you just to plop yourself onto her and snuggle like she was your lover.
"I'm sorry."
Her long manicured nails felt nice against your scalp. If only you were born a dude or at least liked chicks, you'd have married her by now.
Her boobs bounced your head up and down as she laughed as quiet as she could. "Oh don't feel sorry for me. I'm so sorry for you Y/n. They talk to you so bad.. I could never keep my cool the way you do."
In your mind Miva was lucky! She was free.. She didn't have her parents down her throat at all, they didn't even care where she went or what she did. She didn't have to go to school anymore if she didn't want to. She had this older boyfriend who spoiled her and gave her rides anywhere she wanted on his motorcycle. She was sooo cool! You never understood why she even liked to hang around you so much.
You heard her phone go crazy as you tried to listen to her heartbeat. She usually snuck into your room through your window and slept over here and there. She hummed to herself for a bit before shift the both of you. Leaving you both facing one another.
"Come with me?"
You furrowed your brows. "What?"
She smiled. " Come to a party with me? Pleeeese??"
You shook your head, "Are you crazy?"
She nodded. " I thought you knew that?" She jumped on top of you and straddled your waist. Trapping you like she was an animal. " I'll kiss you if you don't come with me."
Your eyes widened! She was crazy! But serious..
"Miva! I can't.. My parents will--"
Her nose touched yours. "I'll have you home before they notice. Come on Y/n... Waka wants to finally meet my best friend in the whole world. I told him so much about you, he has to shut me up sometimes."
How did he? You know what... You didn't want to know.
She could tell you were thinking about it.. her smile grew by the second..
"I've never been to a party before... At least not your type of party, mostly kids parties?"
She buried her face into your neck and squealed. She whisper yelled as she jumped off of you. "Yes!! I love you so much! Let's see what kind of party clothes you have baby!"
_______________________
You tugged down the skirt Miva made for you. All your clothes were "boring.." so she made a few improvements. Like cutting up a shirt to show more boob, and making your skirt so short that it hardly covered your ass. You were confident thanks to her, but this was still a little uncomfortable because you've never dressed like this before.
" How are you holding up? Is your makeup bothering you still?"
You both hopped off the bus right after her and shook your head. It wasn't much, she said you didn't need much. Just a bit of eyeliner and glitter, glossy lips and all that.
She smiled and hooked her arm with yours. " You're going to love Wakasa. He's been begging me to bring you to a party for so long now."
That should have made you uncomfortable right? He was years older than her and her he was asking about you? Then again you've never met him before, only seen pictures on Miva's phone. You couldn't really judge him from those.
Your heart was in your throat as you both walked up to a wearhouse looking building. You could hear the music and people laughing and talking. Miva walked past two guys that stood at the entrance like she belonged here. They eyed you for a second before looking away.
It felt like you had ice in your throat .----
"Waka!"
She jumped up and dragged you towards a guy with yellow and purple hair. This was Wakasa? He was so... Short? He looked more scarier on her phone then in real life.. In real life he just looked bored.
"Hey Princess. This her?"
He didn't waste any time on you. Now you understand.. He was short but his eyes made you feel really small compared to him.
Miva snuggled up to you. " Yepp! This is Y/n. The love of my life!"
You expected him to tell you off. Ban Miva from being associated with a loser like you. But instead he gave you both a lazy smile, and what surprised you the most was when he grabbed your hand and kissed it.
"Nice to finally meet you. You both have fun okay." He looked at Miva and gave her a kiss on the cheek. " Give me 10 . I gotta do something real quick."
Miva nodded and you looked back at Wakasa as he left through the doors. Okay.. That wasn't so bad, he seems--
" What do you think?" Miva handed you a red plastic cup filled with some type of alcohol and waited for your answer.
You shrugged and brought the cup up to your lips. The liquid already making you feel woozy just from the smell. It burned on the way down.. "Yuck..-- uhm he seems nice."
She giggled but before she could speak. You felt something warm or someone warm stood behind you. " Who's this cutie? Shes new."
Miva rolled her eyes. "Leave her alone Hanma. She don't want you."
" You sure about that?"
A Slenderman like figure slouched onto you. He brought your face up to look at him.. Oh, he was kind of cute you guessed.
"Hi."
Your voice was shaky. "Hello."
Miva pushed him off of you. "Will you stop it. Shes my guest! I didn't bring her for you freaks."
Hanma snorted. "You know the rules. Just because your fucking Waka doesn't make you queen."
What?---
Miva pulled you away from him.
"What was he talking about? What rules"
She waved you off. "Nothing. Don't ever listen to Hama. He's full of shit."
"Hey, Miva. Over here."
Another voice spoke over the music. A guy with blond hair was calling her over to a huge couch that was in the middle of the wearhouse. She waved and dragged you with her.
"New friend?"
Some guy with braids looked you up and down before going back to his card game with another blond guy with blue in his hair.
Miva shook her head. "No. You remember my friend Y/n right?" She turned to you. "This is Ran, and Rindou. Or the Haitani brothers. Whatever you want to call them."
Rindou looked at you next. "Nice to meet you. Hopefully now that you'll be coming around, Miva will shut up about you."
She huffed and sat next to the blond who first called her over. "This is Shion."
You waved and let out a yelp when your skirt was pulled down. You were yanked into the couch next to the one with braid. "Sit. Your standing is making me nervous."
Rindou snorted at your scared face. "Don't be scared sweetheart, Ran's harmless, just grumpy. We don't bite... Except Shion. Don't let his zombie ass bite you."
Shion looked up from his phone. "Fuck you! I had the flu asshole."
You held back your laugh. Okay, they weren't soo bad..
Ran and Rindou brought you into their card game. They taught you how to play poker and according to Ran, you belonged in the Casino because you were winning left and right. (Or were they letting you win?)
Next you started talking to an older guy named Benkie when Wakasa had finally returned. He saw your shirt that Miva cut up, he was a fan of the movie in had on the front. (See No Evil) That starred a wrestler from America as the killer.
You hadn't noticed you were sitting so close to him until he laughed and your body shook a bit. He was a giant compared to you.
"At the end where the girl got torn up by the dogs! I had to close my eyes for that shit."
You scrunched up your nose. You did the same thing! "Did you know the prosthetics for that scene were made out of gelatin and wet dog food?"
Benkie was amazed!
Ran gagged. "Freaks. Sweet thing like you shouldn't be into that violent shit. It's bad for your pretty little brain."
Hanma deadpanned. "Didn't you beat someone's brains in yesterday?"
You looked at Ran then back at Miva who was on Waka's lap. You actually never asked what they did or what Wakasa did during his free time. He was a grown man with a lot of money but you've never heard of him working?
You felt an arm around you. It was Hanma again but you didn't feel uncomfortable now that you spoke to him a bit. And you were a little numb from the fruity drinks Shion kept giving you. " I'll protect you from the evil man Y/n."
Everyone laughed and for some reason you did too. Not even flinching when Hanma leaned in to kiss the side of your head. You didn't crave male attention much, you felt like you didn't need it, you didn't deserve it.. But it felt kinda nice?
A girl walked up to Hanma and whispered into his ear. He rolled his eyes and reached into his pocket to bring out his wallet. A small roll of cash was placed into her hand and his lips met hers-- She gave you a weird smile and skipped off. Was she mad at you? Was that his girlfriend? Did she see him kiss you?
"Why you scooting away babe? I thought you liked me?"
He was smiling and you felt bad. "You kissed me in front of your girlfriend.. I feel bad being so close to you now."
Benkie snorted and so did the Haitani brothers. Hanma threw his head back and laughed. "Girlfriend? Hell no! Shes just one of the girls I take care of."
Huh?
They could tell you were confused.. And Miva was too busy with Waka's hand up her skirt to hear what was going on. Now was there time to reel you in.
Rindou sighed. "We could take care of you too y'know."
Ran hummed. "Save you from your mean parents and ass hat siblings. Miva told us everything."
She what?! You tried to get her attention by looking at her. But she was too lost in her boyfriend and possibly drunk..
Hanma leaned in right next to your ear. " Spoil you, keep you away from that awful place.."
Miva let out a squeak when Waka stood up and drop her to the floor. Everyone stood up except for the females that sat on the couch with you.. How did you not notice them till now?!
They bowed and let out synchronized "Welcome sir." as someone walked around the couch and sat down right in the middle. He didn't look as friendly as the others did. He was a blond guy with the meanest eyes you've ever seen. Just pools of black surrounded by stressed, tired skin.. He waved everyone off and they all went back to normal, like he wasn't there.
You got scared when you looked at him again and he was looking right back at you. There were two guys standing behind him like they were guards as well. One with long pink hair that was in a ponytail-- he had diamond shaped scars by the ends of his mouth. The other was the scariest. He had a large scar going through one of his eyes.. He only looked at you for a moment before looking back at everyone else.
Miva appeared next to you and helped you stand. "I think we should leave now--"
Waka cut her off. "Where you gotta be all of a sudden? We were about to play your favorite game."
She looked at him and tried to shield you from his sight. "No. This isn't why I brought her here."
Waka shrugged "You know the rules. It's how I got you didn't I? And the way you talked her up? You practically sold her to us."
Your buzz made everything fuzzy... What was happening? Should you run? What did he mean that's how he got her? She said she met Waka in a coffee shop.. but now that you think of it, Miva hates coffee.
She gritted her teeth. "I just wanted her out of that house for a while. You said it was okay."
Waka raised a brow. "I can drop you if you wanna talk back to me like that."
She went stiff.---
Ran leaned against you and lazily held you by the waist. "Aww mommy and daddy are fighting. Don't scare the baby."
Rindou was next to you. "Y/n wants to stay,. Don't you babe?"
Did you? You were having a good time.. but there was a feeling--
Hanma hummed from his seat. "Don't you want to be taken care of? Live freely like Miva? Have money all the time, attention.."
You knew better... You really did. But against your better judgement-- you nodded. "That does sound kind of nice.. uh. How do I do that?"
Miva shook her head but Waka pinched her side to shut her up. He looked around. "All you gotta do is join us. Become a part of the Kanto Manji gang."
Gang?! Wtf! Miva never mentioned that! And the Kanto Manji Gang?! They've been on the news! So many people have been found dead or hanging onto their life because of them.
But a life like Miva...
You looked at Wakasa and gulped. "I don't have to hurt anyone right? Or get beat up?"
He smiled and so did everyone behind you. Wakasa nodded at Shion who got up and handed him something. "Not quite. You just need to play a little game with us."
A game?
He held out his hand and you got the hint and held out yours. A small white dice landed in your palm. You raised a brow as Waka continued.
"It's simple really. Roll it once and the number it lands on... Its just how many of us you have to sleep with tonight. A fun little group game."
Your eyes widened for a second! They were messing with you! You smiled. " You're joking.. right?"
Wakasa shook his head, "Instead of fighting, it shows you how much you can handle." He grabbed Miva's face and squished her cheeks before kissing her. "And if one of us really likes you, we get to keep you for ourselves-- like I did with this one right here."
You couldn't believe it.. Did Miva really do this too?
"And if no one likes me?"
(Shion) "Then anyone can have you at any time. Even the lesser members. But you'll still get paid so there's that.. S'not like you have to worry though. Benkie likes you, obviously Hanma.."
Benkie gave Shion a look.
Hanma showed no shame and just smiled. "I can tell you're tight. I like that."
Oop, was that supposed to be a compliment? You didn't know..
You looked down at the dice. The smallest number was one, the largest was six.. SIX! You gulped and looked around-- it's not like they were unattractive or anything. Even the scary blond guy who's been quiet this entire time, him and his guards weren't too bad looking. And like Shion said, Hanma liked you and so did Benkie.. You just needed to make sure at least one of them would be in the group if you had to..
"Are you doing this shit or not. There are other girls to go through."
The guy with the pinky ponytail finally spoke. He looked so annoyed.
Miva shook Waka off of her and went up to you. "We can go now, it's okay. I'm sorry I shouldn't have brought you here."
Ran held onto you tighter. "Ah-uh. It's not your choice anymore. Y/n's a big girl and can make her own decisions." He squeezed you against him like you were a teddy bear. "Isn't that right?"
You guessed... You know what-- fuck it! You don't know if it was the alcohol making you brave or the fact that you really didn't want to go back home.
"Okay. I'll play."
Miva grabbed your hand. "Seriously, you don't have to. This isn't why I brought you here."
You waved her off this time. "It's okay.. I-- I want to.."
She searched your face to see if you were really sure. She knows you've never done anything like this before... She wasn't even sure if you were still a virgin or not.. You didn't talk about boys, to be honest she didn't really think you were into them at one point.
Hanma and Rindou cleaned up their cards from the table that stood in front of the couch. Wakasa brought Miva back to his lap before he motioned you to go up to the table.
You shook the piece in your hand. It felt like the edges were stabbing the flesh of your palm with every shake.
You should just run...
The dice fell out of your hand and danced along the table. You noticed that the numbers were displayed as different shapes. Four hearts, 6 stars, 3 spades,.. Your heart dropped when six showed up again-- nonononono.. But by luck the dice finally stopped..
"Damn it!" Ran let go of you so fast and threw himself on the couch. Was he pouting?
(Ran) "That's a shame.."
(Rindou) "Real shame.."
You looked down at the dice.. it was a black little crown.. It landed on one!! Yes!!
But why was Hanma upset? Yes, you really got along well with Benkie but he was three times your size.. That would mean his dick could probably kill you. Hanma was the best bet--
Wakasa whistled. "Up for some action boss? We can have her go again --"
The scary blond got up... Why? What Wakasa forgot to tell you, ONE was reserved for their boss only. Well, if he wanted to participate. Which he usually didn't --
He shrugged and looked at you. "Let's go."
You didn't want to anymore.. but it was too late. He grabbed your hand and dragged you with him to a flight of stairs. It led to a more private area of the warehouse.
Benkie leaned back into the couch. " If he doesn't want her after, I'll take her."
Hanma snorted. " Don't hold your breath. He's going to like her."
He looked over at a few other girls huddling together, looking like deer caught in headlights. He clicked his tongue and got up. " Guess it's time to find a different one."
Miva got comfortable in Waka's lap. " She'll be okay right? He won't do anything to hurt her?"
Mikey never bothered with her. He's never even looked her way.. but he allowed her to be there to entertain Wakasa..
Rindou answered. " You just better hope he had a good day."
-------------------
You looked at Miva when you reached the top. She gave you a weary smile and looked away..
" Come on."
You were pushed a bit by the guy with pink hair. Behind him was the other guy with the scar on his eye. Why were they here! You only rolled for one person!
The warehouse wasn't dirty or anything like that. It was clean and had furniture and electricity.. but up here... It looked like a small home? Did this guy live here?
He led you to a closed off section, it had a bed, tv, wardrobe ,bookshelf and desk. The other two stood at the doorway and turned to face the other way.
The blond gave you a bored look and sat on the armchair at the corner of his room.. " Well, take off your clothes."
Really? No hello? No help..
But you were too deep already. Slowly you took off everything.. leaving you completely bare.
" Have you done anything like this before? You're shaking."
You shook your head no..
He hummed and got up. You watched him come closer only to let out a breath when he passed you. You could hear him digging around in his desk drawer..
" Open."
He stood in front of you with a bright white and green capsule between his fingers.
" What is that? "
He looked down at it. " I don't really wanna hurt you, so it'll help with relaxing you. Don't worry, these are my own pills. I take them everyday.."
Why were you opening your mouth and swallowing it? This is how murder documentaries start out. But it's not like you could go anywhere right?
He pushed you back till you felt the edge of his bed at the back of your knees. You were falling down while he was getting on his knees in front of you. " It takes a while so I'm going to play with you for a bit."
Again you nodded.. only to be dragged closer to the edge while he spread open you thighs for him to sit between. He didn't warn you, he didn't talk you through it.
He left a few kisses on you inner thighs before you felt his breath against your heat. Nails digging into his sheets and a gasp caught in your throat when you felt his warm wet tongue drag between your folds. A flood of embarrassment running through your veins when he used his thumbs to spread your pussy lips wider for him.
His tongue flicked against your clit and made you cry out like a bitch in heat. Your legs were already shaking on his shoulders-- until you felt a bit of pressure at your entrance. Slowly he pushed one finger in, only to stop half way and push in two.
It slightly stung but you hardly noticed because he was sucking on your clit as he began to slowly move his fingers. You were already so wet but he was enjoying himself.
A little too much.
Your moans died at the back of your throat when you heard one come from him. It sounded so hot and soft at the same time.. He was getting lost in you, was he coming up for air? You were taking in any air? Your body began to tingle and the room started rocking back and forth like you were on a boat.
His fingers started moving faster, hitting that spot deep inside you over and over again. He could feel your walls squeezing like a vice.. As much a she didn't want to, he pulled away from your clit and yanked his fingers out.
Both men at the door jumped when you screamed as your legs shook. A clear liquid shot out of you and onto his clothes. If felt like his fingers were still inside of you when he was just standing there watching your cunt twitch around nothing.
You caught your breath and in horror you were about to apologize to him.. but he leaned over you and connected his lips to yours. He tasted sweet and a bit bitter as his tongue entered your mouth. This was your first kiss.. and you didn't want him to stop..
He stood back up straight. "Your ready now. Turn around, knees and chest on the bed."
With a shaking body you did what you were told. You could hear him shuffling behind you and the sound of his buckle falling to the floor. Your body twitched when you felt something hard and warm run up and down between your folds. You could feel one of his rough hands on your hip, the other positioning himself.
"Deep breath.."
It hurt... Like a dragged out burn but whatever he gave you made your stomach tighten and your eyes roll back. You could hear him cursing under his breath. " Fuck-- relax a bit."
You tried, you really did.. but you could feel everything! From his fat mushroom tip abusing your g-spot, to his warm breath on the back of your neck. Fat tears spilling from your eyes and onto his bed as your body went into overstimulation. Every pulsing vein that ran along your pussy as he rutted into you to chase his own high..
----------------------
You don't know how long you've been up here.. After the third round you think you fell asleep?
You woke up from the throbbing between your legs as you felt your body bouncing a bit. The warehouse seemed brighter and muffled voices blended together.
"Slow down Kakucho, the boss said to be easy on her."
You opened your eyes to see the guy with the scarred eye looking down at you. " Forgive me. Ma'am."
You furrowed your brows, your brain telling you to run.. But fuck you were so tired..
(Hanma) " Shes up."
"Give her to me."
You felt yourself being gently placed onto someone and they brought your head into their neck. You slowly open your eyes, thinking they handed you back to Miva.. but they widened when you noticed you were on their bosses lap. His blond hair tickling your cheek..
You felt him shift a bit to looked at you. His eyes still black and scary.. but a little less mean. You tried to sit up but fell back into his body. You could feel him brush some roge hairs away from your face. "Just rest.. it'll wear off by tomorrow. I got you."
Okay... You tried to look around for Miva... Did she leave you? Wakasa was sitting right in front of you dealing out cards.
The boss noticed your wandering eyes. "I sent her with the Haitani's to bring your clothing and some of your stuff."
What? You forced yourself to look at him.. That's when you noticed he had changed his clothes and you were in his long white gang coat, it was buttoned up-- because you were still naked underneath!
"What?"
He said it like it was nothing, just a normal fact. "You're staying here with me from now on. You're mine."
You should have been scared, especially after he held you a bit more possessively after... But This is what you wanted right? Not only do you have an older boyfriend with money, just like Miva, but he was the leader of a gang... A dangerous one.
It was a little more than you wanted but still.. Were you able to say no? It didn't feel like you could..
He kissed you on the cheek before he placed a card down on the table. "My name is Mikey by the way. But I want you to call me Manjiro. Understand?"
The End!
S3SS 1.0!
I'm back for a spooktacular halloween update to Sims3SettingsSetter!
Announcing version 1.0! Woo, finally! Sorry to everyone that has been waiting :(
The latest version can be found here:
Github Code <- Also contains the readme now! Check it out!
GitHub Release
SimsFileShare
ModTheSims - Soon maybe idk
As always, you will need a ASI loader to use this mod.
I'm also no longer providing a performance baseline preset, I may in the future but instead I think I'll do a more focused post on overall things you can do to get the game running good. DO NOT USE THE OLD BASELINE PRESET
More info on the changes below xoxo
Some of the new features/changes are:
Huge code cleanup and refactoring
Settable UI toggle keybind
Fixed d3d9 hook for better working-ness
Toggleable warning when hitting the memory limit
Improved code safety to hopefully not crash if something breaks
Manual enabling of debug Live settings changer thing (lmk if it doesn't trigger after this update though!)
New settings, logging and preset system
New patches system for developers (check the readme in the patches directory) which should massively speed up the speed I can release small patches and tweaks, it streamlines a lot of the repetitive work and auto-registers it to the imgui ui. If you're a developer or want to get into RE-ing, check it out!
Patches now detect which exe version you're using and stop you from using them on unsupported versions, they also fail better and will warn you if something goes wrong
New patches:
CPU thread distributor - forces the game at gunpoint to assign threads to better cores depending on CPU type, might not be needed on EA, wont crash either way tho
CreateFileW patch (Thanks to FoulPlay on discord!) - Makes the main .package reading functions use the random access flag which should improve I/O performance when loading stuff, particularly on SSDs (credits to Foul Play on discord!)
Lot loading optimization patch - Sets 2 debug settings that should drastically improve performance/reduce stuttering for people playing with >1 max active lot
Map View Lot fixer thing - Stops lots from unloading when entering the map, basically removing the lag from entering/exiting the map if you've already been in that area, highly recommend using it alongside the lot loading patch
Threading and timing optimization patch - Big patch that adjusts several timing and threading related things, increases timer resolution to 1ms, adjusts critical section spin counts and patches out wasteful CPU spinning, should reduce CPU usage and increase speed pretty decently
Smooth patch dupe - Does what smooth patch does but more targeted, instead of touching the SleepEx wrapper (48 references) it changes the function responsible for the frame limit and lets you specify that instead, much cleaner. Pattern matches so should work on EA also.
I might release some of these as individual files, however I think going forwards the majority of my patches will be tied to S3SS, it's just becoming too big of a headache and the patch system is too nice to not develop with.
I'm also working on a post w/ some common misconceptions about certain settings and what they do, if you have any specific ones you want me to dive in to please send me a message 😁
I'm also also working on a post about surefire performance improvements and the glory of DXVK, that should hopefully be out soon-ish (work permitting…)
Future updates/Ideas
EA pattern matching for new patches… Sorry EA people it's just really annoying to write patches for EA versions due to the gross DRM issues
I think I will try and figure out a way of throttling the actual object loads themselves, this is the main cause of stutter in the game (too much stuff all at once). I've had a look but couldn't find an easy approach, but I'll keep trying
More settings/making Config/Options category settings editable live instead of requiring a restart. This would be a fair amount of work since I haven't been able to find a central place they all go ;/
I'd like to work on some targeted d3d9 stuff, though this is mostly a moot point now since the memory issues with the game are basically solved with dxvk now so 🤷
Shadow shader…. I haven't forgotten this. If I could fix up or adjust the transition between the two maps it would make the shadows look so juicy and crisp, but alas…
Settings setter but for mono tunables. Some sort of mitm live view of mono stuff would be sososososososososo good.
I'd also like to just look at regular mods, I haven't really looked at the mono side of things or .package mods at all, just the exe, there's probably some really neat things that can be done with it
Anyway that's all! More to come! As always feel free to message me on Discord or Tumblr about whatever.
I had posted late last night about how I really hate that a bunch of the old internet that my friends and I used to create worlds on now longer exists. Geocities, Tripod, and Angelfire, and even Homestead, those places were our internet homes. I also mentioned that as teenagers, we wanted to become creators. We wanted to be story tellers and artists. We wanted to have fun, but because you grow up and you make mistakes, the thing we wanted to create never actually came into existence.
In the comments of that last post, somebody said I could just rebuild a website I wanted in Neocities. And that's definitely true. It's just a shame that our history from 25-ish years ago has largely evaporated. These days, I'm happy with my current web presence. I built marzgurl.com on Ghost, and I really like the way it works over there. I host some work portfolios on carrd.co, and that serves me just fine for the time being.
But if I'm talking about reviving an old project from between teenage friends from 25 years ago, Neocities actually isn't a terrible place to hold down some content. If I'm thinking about it, this project wouldn't just be reviving an old idea. I'd want it to really live and breathe quite a bit in the time we first conceived it. I wanna send it out as a love letter to those kids who are all grown up and middle-aged now, and I want it to be a place where the thing that could have existed in another universe all those years ago really can exist here in this universe, too, and it just got here late.
So thanks for that. I do think I'll mess around with Neocities, and see if I can't tie a Neocities website into a greater project idea later. Maybe something someday can finally actually come of this. I hope I can make some time soon. I've been so overwhelmed with work as of late that I've barely had time to sleep, let alone create. But maybe I can finally start to make some things happen soon.
Sylus x MC: No Way Out
Literally just realized I never cross-posted my first fic, lol. Sorry for the repeat if you follow me on AO3, I promise I've got a grassland romance fic coming soon.
Summary: A rewrite of my absolute favorite Sylus card. I really enjoy just how hurt his VA made him sound, and I wanted to reflect that in this.
Contains: AFAB MC, hurt/comfort, kinds enemies to lovers (ish??), Sylus in Pain, blood and injury, like a lot of talk about blood, an MC who swears constantly (she's earned it ok), SFW
AO3
-*-*-*-
I'm going to fucking strangle him, she thinks.
She's standing there, in a public park, on a gorgeous day. It should be the perfect sort of afternoon to relax after a hunting shift, and that had been exactly her plan. But Sylus, sitting relaxed and carefree in front of the fountain, has apparently seen fit to obliterate any chance of that. She's still breathless from sprinting to the coordinates her hunter's watch had specified. Sure, it was a relatively short run, but it was enough to have her adrenaline running high and her mind racing in preparation for dealing with a wanderer. She can feel a prickling sensation under her skin as she pants for air; a sensation which is not helped by the prickling of embarrassment as a middle-aged passerby gives her a judgemental look and makes a point of walking a wider distance from her than is strictly necessary.
She throws him a glare that tells him to mind his own damn business before turning the glare back to the true source of her ire.
He's wearing sunglasses, making him even harder to read than usual, but the slight smirk on his face is all too familiar.
No, he's too damn tall for strangling. Bastard hot man. Maybe I'll drown him in that damn fountain. That could work, she muses.
Despite the warmth of the day, Sylus's jacket is still hung around his shoulders, making his silhouette even sharper, more striking. The fountain spreading out behind him gives the whole picture a strangely artistic look, a statuesque man before a sculpture of angels and cranes, a slight mist hanging in the air as the water crashes back into the pool behind him. And somehow, that makes the whole situation even more irritating.
"Did you send a request to be rescued?"
She tries to make her voice cold, icy even. Unfortunately, the effect is slightly undercut by her puffing from the recent exertion.
His one shoulder rises and falls in a careless gesture, expression inscrutable. "I encountered a wanderer, and needed some help."
The words come out in a way that strikes her as odd; almost choked, perhaps?
Even in sarcasm he can barely lower himself to ask for help. What an ass.
"Well," She makes a show of looking around, spreading her arms wide, "Where's the wanderer?"
"I made it run away."
Her eye twitches. She can't start swearing here, in the middle of a public park. She doesn't need to go through that particular bit of remedial training with her superiors again. So instead she forces a slow breath out through her nose and asks, "How did you know I'd be the one to show up?"
Sylus lifts his phone, and her own smiling face looks back at her behind a pair of rainbow, heart-shaped sunglasses. Underneath the picture is a geotag.
Didn't I disable geotags last week...? I thought for sure I did so that Zayne wouldn't see that I got takeout at 1 a.m. again. Shit, does that mean he knows? Ugh, i don't want that nutrition lecture again-
"Let's flip a coin," Sylus's voice halts her train of thought. He tosses a coin from who-knows-where up into the air and catches it with the same hand. "The outcome will determine many people's fates tonight."
What the hell is he talking about? Is he going to blow up a building or something? Ugh, no, he wouldn't have called me if that's what he was up to. I don't need this right now. I'd like to enjoy my afternoon without a hail of bullets, thanks.
She rolls her eyes, opening the watch's interface, scrolling through to cancel the assistance flare, marking it as resolved. There's the tiny splish of a coin landing in the fountain.
He's damn lucky no one else responded. Or maybe I'm unlucky. Six of one, half a dozen of the other, probably.
"I'm busy with work, Sylus, stop messing around. Today, you-"
She's not sure when he stood up, but suddenly his strong arm is around her neck, pulling her close to him. Her heart, much to her irritation, skips a beat. Just like it always does when he's close, damn the man. And he's certainly close now. Close enough to feel the heat of him, to catch the smell of metal polish, oiled leather, and…
...blood?
What the hell...?
Her eyes dart across the dark material of his shirt, underneath the cover of his jacket. She's grown familiar with the streaks of dark red that swirl across the fabric, since it seems to be one of his favorites. And the large, dark splotch that she spies spreading across his sleeve and side is definitely not part of the usual pattern. And the streams of blood leaking from two punctures on his arm are certainly not typical.
"Sylus, you're bleeding!?" She stammers out in shock, trying to process the strange turn in the situation. The last time she'd see blood on his shirt she'd been...
Well. She'd been the one who had opened that wound, hadn't she? A shot to the heart, point-blank range-
No. Focus on the problem at hand.
"What happened-"
Just as the words start to fall out of her mouth, a single long digit is pressed against her lips, startling her into silence.
"Shh," He drops his finger from her lips. It's somehow both a relief and a disappointment, though she refuses to think about why she would be disappointed by the lack of contact. "Let's go. If we don't, we'll be stuck here."
She isn't sure what he means by that. But she reasons that it's probably not wise to argue with a bleeding man. Not that he gives her time to; his arm is already tucking her to his side and guiding her to walk with him away from the park and all its potential onlookers.
As a hunter, she's seen a lot of injured people. Civilians and other hunters alike. For civilians, the reactions vary wildly. Some cry, some scream, some are in the complete silence of shock. Hunters, on the other hand, tend to have more predictable reactions. Barking out succinct updates on their status and position to their partners, maybe requests for backup teams. In the worst cases, calling for assistance to retreat.
Sylus isn't like either of those. This doesn't surprise her, of course. Sylus isn't like anyone in any way she can think of. She barely even counts him as human most of the time. The current situation seems to support this, as well. Looking at him now, as they duck into an alley across from the park, she would never guess anything was amiss, except maybe for the lack of movement from his left shoulder, slightly stiffening his gait. His head is held high, his steps are sure, and he carries himself with the same usual air of arrogant nonchalance.
At least, he does at first.
The minutes roll by as he guides her through a labyrinth of narrow side streets, so quiet the sound of their steps on the cobblestones echo off the walls, and dark even at the height of midday. Side streets like these would normally have her at least a bit on guard, but the man at her side is an entirely different class of threat than whatever petty criminal she'd find here. At least, he would be, under usual circumstances. But with the passing of time, she notices his bearing begins to change, albeit minutely. His steps drag just slightly more against the rough path. His posture sags, just a fraction of an inch, but enough that she can tell. There's a slight labor to his breathing that she's never heard from him before.
And damn her, it's fucking terrifying.
This is a man that she's seen tear another person asunder. A man she's seen stop bullets in midair. A man she's seen take a gunshot to the chest, and then look her in the eye with a cold smile. A man who stood with her in a building as it went up in a blaze around the pair of them. And now, in this strange, wrong moment, he is a man struggling to walk down a street and stand tall.
Idiot, use your head, she chastises herself, you know how to help someone who is wounded. The fact that it's the leader of fucking Onychinus, and maybe the most terrifying person you know, is beside the point right now. For right now, he's a person who is hurt. And you're all he's got.
She curves around him, pressing her shoulder to his side for support, her hand settling just above the stiff leather of his belt. She shifts herself closer, trying to help distribute some of the weight onto herself. Given the height difference, it isn't terribly effective; but she does feel a decent amount of pressure settle across her shoulders, as well as feeling a slight lean to his spine against her arm. And a twitch of a muscle in his side relaxing slightly under her palm. The strength of his arm, even loose as it is across the back of her neck. A surprisingly tight grip of his fingers on her waist. And warmth, radiating from his core. Trapped against her, where their sides meet. Bleeding through her vest, her shirt. An uncomfortable, restless warmth, spreading through her body; collecting in her cheeks, her chest, her stomach.
"You really like helping others."
The slight rumble of his voice, a bit hoarse from effort, startles her. He seems almost surprised, though she can’t imagine why. Helping others is her entire career, after all.
Right. Wounded crime boss. Focus.
"Well," she starts, affecting an irritated tone to cover her distraction, "if I didn't take you with me, you wouldn't have let me go."
"How are you so sure?"
The amusement in his comment is almost lost under the strain. He's getting worse, she realizes. She should've been putting pressure on the wound ages ago. But how to do it while still supporting him with her left arm? She tries crossing her right arm over his front, but again his height proves problematic.
Dammit.
"Lean down a little." She commands. The deep, throaty chuckle it earns her would tempt her to swat him, were it not for how breathless it sounds. To her surprise, he replies without further comment, allowing her hand to make contact with the wound. It’s hot, wet and tacky under her palm with a mix of old and new blood. Underneath the layer of blood and cloth, she can feel a deceptively small hole. A puncture, then. And a deep one, if the amount of blood is any indication. Even the relatively light touch makes Sylus inhale sharply. She feels the muscles across his torso tense, though he doesn’t recoil.
What the fuck? How did a wanderer do this?
A small growl of frustration escapes her as she realizes there's no way to apply an appropriate amount of pressure from the current angle. "Lean down a little more."
He looks down at her, a single gray eyebrow arched. "When hunters accept a rescue mission, do they always tend to the wounded?" Despite the light tone of the question, she notices some of his consonants are starting to drag.
You'd have a lot easier time catching your breath if you stopped fucking talking.
She’s startled by the strength of her own irritation, the thought jumping unbidden into her mind. Ugh. Calm down. I guess if he’s still asking questions, he’s not about to pass out or something. I don’t know how I’d carry him if he did…
"No, we just escort them to the hospital." She puts some pressure to his back, reminding him to lean. To her surprise, he responds without resistance. "We only care for them when they're troublesome, like you."
That barb earns her a slight smirk. She doesn't expect it to be such a reassuring sight. Usually it makes her want to punch him.
They manage to start walking again. It's quite awkward, he's bent almost double and she's moving sort of sideways.
"So what happened exactly?" She asks, then notes with frustration, "You're still bleeding."
Why hasn't he healed himself? I've done worse to him than this. Hell, half the wanderers we've fought have.
"It's nothing. The sun's too bright," he says, like that explains anything at all.
She glances up. The sun is, indeed, glaringly bright today. Not a cloud in the sky, either. She's rarely seen him in Linkon himself, but on those rare occasions, she supposes they have all happened at night. Or maybe he’s just being facetious, she can never completely tell with him.
"Oh good," she teases, "I discovered another one of your weaknesses."
She could swear he intentionally leans more weight on her at that, and she swallows a grunt.
Two turns later, she finds herself looking at a, frankly, aggressively average-looking motel. Maybe a bit smaller than average, but certainly not what she'd pictured their destination to be. She hesitates slightly, checking to see if there's another turn to take. But Sylus continues ahead, seeming to know where he's headed, and she goes along with him. Fortunately, there seems to be a lack of visitors at the moment, there’s a single car pulled up next to the motel, and no one outside. Nevertheless, her eyes don't stop scanning their surroundings for potential dangers, even as they come up to the door underneath a neon sign reading OFF CE, the ‘I’ occasionally blinking to life.
They enter the office, and she vaguely realizes what an odd picture the two of them must make as they enter. Sylus is half bent-over her, now obviously bleeding and breathing heavily. She's wrapped around him, in her hunter's uniform, with his blood covering her hand and beginning to dye her sleeve.
An inconspicuous sight, they are not.
Fortunately, the only person in the small office room is a pre-teen boy, who is deeply engrossed in a mobile game. She's pretty sure she recognizes the sound effects to be from Light and Dark Raiders: Dragon Team Descent.
She briefly wonders what level he is, before Sylus raps sharply on the desk with his free hand.
"I want room 503."
The boy starts, guiltily putting his phone into his pants pocket. As he does, she notes the abandoned textbook and scratch paper on the desk beside Sylus's hand. Her nose wrinkles slightly of its own accord.
Algebra. No wonder he was playing on his phone.
The boy blinks at the two of them, and for a moment, she thinks she'll have to explain that they're not criminals (well, she isn't), or victims of a mugging, or something. But, to her surprise, the kid asks no questions. Just pulls out a key card from a drawer, and a first-aid kit from a side table, putting them both on the desk before immediately returning to his game. She wonders how often this happens, that Sylus shows up here bloodied and half-conscious. Surely it can't be that often? But then, why does she care in the first place? This is Sylus. The man who kidnapped her, regularly kills those who upset or betray him, and rules over the N109 zone like a tiger over jackals.
"Thanks." The slight mirth in his voice surprises her, and she just notices the slight traces of a warm smile leaving his face as she turns her gaze to him. The contrast between her most recent though and his soft expression is jarring. Whatever the situation is here, Sylus clearly knows this child and vice-versa. The thought that this child, who is playing games, doing schoolwork, and occasionally checking in the odd customer, is wrapped up in the chaos and lawlessness of the N109 zone settles uneasily in her stomach.
But, before she has much time to think about it, Sylus is moving forward again, and she's bound to go along with him. The odd pair walk down a narrow, carpeted hallway, toward the elevator doors at the end. Her arm is beginning to ache from holding pressure in this position, but she does her best to hold steady as Sylus uses his free hand to push the button, still holding the kit and card. She tries to think of something, anything to say, as they step into the elevator together. But she can’t stop listening to the short breaths he takes, and trying to calculate the amount of time he’s spent bleeding. When did she begin to worry over this man like a mother hen? He was the last person alive who she would consider needing any sort of care from another person.
And yet, he does. So she will give it. Because no one else will, right now.
Her sleeve is now soaked, and as they exit the elevator, she can’t help but note the trail of dark red droplets staining the carpet in their wake.
Sylus slides the key card through the reader, and despite the worries about his current state, she can’t help leaning forward to get a glimpse of where the leader of Onychinus makes space to lick his wounds on occasion. However, perhaps to her slight disappointment, it’s as seemingly average as the rest of the motel. Although, once inside the room, she does note that there’s an extra half-room sized space that houses a kitchenette and some cupboards. Sylus gives a slight shrug of his uninjured shoulder, and she realizes that she is still holding onto him as she studies the new space. Her hands leap from him as though burnt.
Rather than face his infuriating smugness at her distraction, she busies herself with opening a side drawer with her clean hand, slightly hoping there will be an object of interest to redirect her thoughts. Unfortunately, it’s completely empty. It seems silly to be disappointed, considering the current situation, but she had half-expected to find a secret arsenal hidden in the room. It certainly wouldn’t surprise her given Sylus’s usual business. Unfortunately, there doesn’t seem to be anything for her to ‘borrow’ from her charge.
“Is this your safe house in Linkon?” She wonders aloud, heading over to the sink to clean the blood from her hand before it has a chance to completely dry. She rolls up her soaked sleeve (the shirt is definitely ruined, she’ll have to get a replacement), trying to prevent it from continuing to drip. She really doesn't want the poor kid at the front desk, or whoever the cleaning person is, to have to clean up more blood than is strictly necessary. The cool water sluicing over her hands and washing away the stickiness is calming, grounding in this unreal situation.
Deep breaths, that's what Jenna said at that training. Although that was about not telling rude onlookers to go fuck themselves in the ass… I think that still applies to this situation? The purpose is still to calm down.
“Can I get some help?” Despite the breathlessness, his tone stays airy, perhaps slightly irritated.
She turns from the sink, towards the sound of his voice. He's sitting on the floor of the shower, having apparently already dropped the jacket from his shoulders and discarded the sunglasses. The sleeve and abdomen of his shirt are soaked through, dark and heavy on his frame. The puncture- no, punctures, there's another she hadn't noticed, and a graze across his ribs -are clearly visible, the fabric frayed and partially plastered into the wounds. A small stream of blood is already starting to reach past the open first-aid box on the tile and slither lazily towards the drain. He pulls at his shirt collar on the injured side, unable to manage the buttons on his own.
She could never, before this very moment, have imagined Onychinus's Sylus ever looking like this. Like a wounded, wild animal; stubbornly refusing to die, but unable to continue on under its own power alone. And yet, still assessing her with those crimson eyes, seeing if she will balk or break or abandon; wash her hands of the whole thing and let him fend for himself. Perhaps daring her to do so.
But that isn’t who she is.
She turns off the faucet and walks over to him, muttering, “At least have the decency to say ‘please’ next time you ask.” Another jibe, meant to pull out their usual banter.
Instead, he exhales a ‘sorry’, as though he was holding his breath.
She doesn't expect the pang of disappointment or the accompanying anxiety that comes with the apology where a teasing quip should be. This is, quite simply, not the Sylus she is used to dealing with.
When did I start becoming used to him?
Probably somewhere in between Sylus threatening to take her hand off to get rid of the energy linkage, and Sylus easing her nerves over text the night before a banquet, or maybe Sylus helping her pick out a pair of sunglasses, or sending his stupid bird to check on her all the time.
In between dozens of small moments, it seems
She kneels down, squeezing into the uncomfortably small space between his outstretched leg and the shower wall, and begins undoing the buttons. It's easy to imagine, with his panting breaths as she uncovers more and more of the toned body underneath his shirt, what this might be like in another situation. Far too easy.
No, no no no no. Do not imagine that right now. Professionalism. I'm a model of professionalism. I am not going to imagine fucking the shot-up sexy man.
The sound he makes when she brushes the skin over his sternum makes her resolve considerably weaker.
“Does it hurt?”
His slight grimace and narrowed eyes, at least, help dismiss any untoward thoughts of hers. “Your hands are cold.”
“I just washed them. Bear with it.”
She gingerly begins to tug at his left sleeve with one hand, her other maneuvering the collar of the shirt so that removing it takes as little movement from him as possible. Fortunately, his shirt (and her sleeve) seem to have soaked up a decent amount of the blood, so it isn’t terribly difficult to examine. She’s never seen wanderer marks like this. But she has seen Sylus with a nearly identical wound before, just slightly left of his sternum instead of on his arm.
A flare of anger rises in her chest. The fucking bastard lied. And, worse, she took him at his fucking word .
Idiot. This is still Sylus. Of course he lies, it’s his whole deal. He’s a black market arms dealer, murderer, and smuggler.
“A gunshot wound?” She seethes, even as she leans around to look for an exit wound. Two gunshot wounds, really, both in his upper arm. Three if she counts the graze streaking across his ribs, which has opened up slightly after removing the shirt. And no exit wounds. She hopes they haven’t hit the bone.
Of course the bullets are still in him. It’s probably the only reason he didn’t fucking bleed out.
She sits back to glare at him, trying to ignore that his face is even paler than usual. For his part, Sylus unflinchingly meets her gaze, which is even more infuriating. He could at least have the decency to try and fake an ashamed expression, rather than having this… curious impassivity. “Wanderers don’t shoot guns. Is this an old grudge or a new one?”
He gives a small, humorless huff. Which is, decidedly, not an answer.
“You always cause trouble,” she growls, refusing to back down from his stare, “but you’re never honest about it.”
He doesn’t bat an eye at her fury. He’s eerily calm, actually, even lacking his usual air of arrogance as he keeps his gaze.
“If you’d like to keep your involvement with the N109 zone to a minimum, then you shouldn’t care too much.”
There’s no condescension in his words. It’s a straightforwardness that is foreign to her interactions with Sylus before now. She’d think it was sincerity, were it not for the recent lie.
She gives a sharp snort, “But I thought you liked my ‘excessive’ concern.”
A strange, small smile pulls at the corner of his lips at that, along with a small hum that she can’t quite interpret the meaning of. It disarms her once more, leaves her reeling, the angry wind taken out of her sails. She wishes, not for the first time, that she could read desires like he can, just to be able to piece out all the thoughts he doesn’t say.
He finally breaks the staring contest between them, reaching over to retrieve a pair of tweezers from the first aid box.
“Turn around.”
“Huh?”
“You don’t need to see this.” He mutters, still wearing that strange not-quite-a-smile, “I’d rather not give you nightmares about me.”
That would be a first for him, she’s never gotten the idea that he much cared if he was fit for her nightmares or not. But he’s fixed her with that same oddly pretensionless look. So what can she do but heed him?
She turns her head to the side, and tries not to flinch at the quiet, pained noises he makes. Even worse is the slight squelching noises of the damaged flesh, which is nauseating to hear (though she’d never admit it). She’s had numerous injuries over the years, from wanderers, accidents, and her own lack of grace; but she finds herself currently grateful she’s never had to try and dig bullets out of herself.
“Is there local anesthetic in the first aid box? I can administer it for you.”
“No need,” he grunts, as something metallic clinks to the tile, rolling before coming to rest against her foot. A 9mm hollowpoint bullet, the top blooming out like a bloody flower. A few more moments and pained noises, and its twin joins it. She takes this as her cue to be able to turn around.
The sight twists her heart with worry once more.
Sylus is leaning back against the tiled wall of the shower, face ghostly in color, chin tipped up slightly. Though he’s still conscious, his eyes are unfocused, and lacking their usual vividness. His mouth is hanging open as he forces himself through steady breaths. His injured arm is limp at his side, with fresh blood streaming from the wounds down his arm and dripping steadily onto the tile.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” She mutters to herself through her teeth. Enough is enough. He called for her help, and he’s damn well going to get it.
She steps carefully around him, trying to find space for herself in the close quarters. It’s certainly not an easy feat, with him being nearly as broad in the shoulders as the wall he’s leaning against. She finally manages to squeeze herself in by squatting down in front of him, her knees between his. She’s pleasantly surprised to find hemostatic gauze in the first aid kit, though she supposes she shouldn’t be; the kit is probably specifically put together for Sylus’s needs.
He grunts as she packs the wounds. Though she’s doing her best to be gentle, there’s only so much she can do at this stage. She knows it isn’t a permanent fix, but it should be enough to get him back to the N109 zone, and whatever passes for his version of safety. She does manage to staunch the bleeding as well, and that is a relief in and of itself right now. She takes out the alcohol wipes and begins cleaning the area surrounding the graze.
“You’re skilled.” His words are slurred slightly. If she’s being honest, she’s impressed he can still manage coherent speech. Maybe, now that he’s out of the sun, his healing is returning to normal speed. She hopes so. “I thought you were the type who usually comes out unscathed.”
She gives an affirmative hum as she concentrates on cleaning the area. Then adds, “but, because you keep messing around, all of my time lately has been spent on you.”
She waits for a response, but there is none. So she continues, “I don’t often get to take on very difficult missions.” In her periphery, she can see his face tip slightly towards her, watching. “My marksmanship skills are getting rusty.”
“I see, you’re not exactly pleased.” He says quietly. Almost regretfully, though perhaps that is just her imagination. His head lolls back to center as he continues in a more airy tone, “I’ll find a few dangerous wanderers for you to use as training dummies later.”
She rolls her eyes as she discards the wipe, and reaches for the bandages. She's about to ask Sylus to lean forward, so she can pass the bandage more easily around his ribcage, but he beats her to the punch; closing the small distance between them to rest his forehead heavily on her shoulder.
“Give me a few minutes,” he murmurs.
And God, she tries to do that, she does try. But she isn't properly balanced for his weight, and it isn't more than a few moments before she falls backward, flat on her ass. Sylus doesn't seem to be fazed. He simply shifts to a kneeling position, head remaining in place. She can feel his heavy breaths, puffing through her shirt, just below her collarbone.
“Does it hurt?” She murmurs. He gives a grunt in response.
Her mind wanders as she begins winding the bandage around his chest as gently as she can. She hates this. Hates how seeing a force of nature brought low fills her veins with an icy dread. Hates seeing him pale and shaky and damn vulnerable. She knows he can stop bullets. She knows he can tear a man’s very atoms apart on a whim. Hell, he can look a giant fucking bird wanderer in the eye as it drops giant stone feathers on him without a second thought. It’s unnatural, to see such a power reduced to the same level of humanity as everyone else.
But in the next breath, she realizes that she likes this. Not the hurt, or the exhaustion, of course. She isn't a sadist, even if she sometimes thinks he is. But so often he seems more like a weapon than a person. Something to be pointed in the direction of what you want obliterated, and released like a bullet from a gun; cold, unyielding, unfeeling. But, maybe, not all of the time. She's heard concern in his voice in the heat of a fight. Playfulness radiating out of a simple text. Gentleness, in the grip of his hand as he leads you through a dance. And now, right now, he's a person in pain, vulnerable and reaching out for help.
The two sides of a coin, the Leader of Onychinus and Sylus. Equal and opposite and baffling. They can't both exist on the same side together, and yet, a coin can't only have one face.
“Your tender loving care is going to last the whole night, huh,” He drawls against her shoulder.
And assholiness. Definitely assholiness, she thinks as she moves to wrapping his arm.
“Why don’t you just instantly recover and head back to the N109 zone to wreak havoc, then?” She retorts, though it’s missing her usual venom. It’s too good to hear him starting to banter again. This doesn’t stop her though, from cutting his responding chuckle a bit short with a rougher yank on the bandage. “You’re either the source of trouble or in trouble,” She pauses a moment, before a genuine question bubbles out of her mouth.
“Aren’t you tired of living like this?”
“It’s almost like you’re telling me to join you, and become a member of the hunter’s association.” There’s a slight mocking edge to his voice, and she briefly wonders if punching him in the gunshot wound will make him pass out. It almost seems worth it. But instead, she finds herself giving into the impulse to match his tone.
“Do I make hunting look easy? We’re required to memorize the hunter’s code, and take assessments during the holidays.” She finishes tying the bandage with a tug, lacing her words with teasing doubt, “Could you handle that?”
There’s only silence in response. She wishes she could see his face, get some idea of what he’s thinking. But his forehead remains on her shoulder. She becomes aware, once again, of his breath; less heavy now, and steadier, but no less warm. And now that she’s unoccupied with tending to him, she becomes terribly aware of all the other sensations. Soft hair brushing against her ear and cheek, the nudge of his nose against her collarbone, the smell of sweat and blood and something underneath that she can’t place.
A strange, visceral impulse to wrap her arms around him makes her muscles twitch.
Where the fuck did that come from? I’m not going to do that, absolutely not, I’m just helping him. He’s probably had to do this alone dozens of times and-
Her thoughts begin to swirl, out of her control.
And it should not feel like a knife to her heart (a sword to his) to think about that. To think of Sylus wounded, maybe unconscious on the floor from blood loss (so much blood) until his evol kicks in to restart the healing. Breath choked and mouth leaking red (you must press on)-
How many times, Leader of Onychinus? How many hails of bullets, stabbings, poisonings, beatings… How many more, Sylus?
She swallows down the rising lump in her throat, bottles and corks the swirling thoughts for later. But she still finds herself asking,
“Be honest with me. Why are you doing all of this? Do you not care about your own safety?”
She feels the shift in his face, feels what could be a sigh across the base of her throat. “There are shadows even in the places where the sun doesn’t shine. And it just so happens,” his voice shifts slightly, into something odd, self-mockery, maybe, “I’m a person who likes to live in the dark.”
Likes to, or must? She wonders. Before today, hell even before thirty minutes ago, she wouldn’t have considered Sylus to be a man without a choice in… well, anything. Now… now she isn’t so sure.
“If you’re curious about my world,” his whisper at her ear sends chills racing down her spine, “you’ll have to step beyond the border between light and shadow. You must be the one to make that decision.”
There’s something thick in the air, something tense. A breath being held. She looses a halfhearted laugh to try and assuage some of it.
“You act as though you’re giving me a choice.”
He draws back then, and she expects him to resume leaning against the wall. Instead, he remains within a breath of her face, crimson eyes filling most of her view. They’re focused precisely now, practically electrified intensity. It’s like staring at a paused lightning strike, and she needs to look away, break the contact.
A warm thumb touches her chin, a finger curling underneath it, and they drag her gaze back to his. There’s the curl of his smirk, ever-so-slightly narrowing his coreless eye.
“Of course,” his voice is breathy now, and gentle , in a way she’s never heard it before, “I did give you a choice. And it’s precisely because you’ve never chosen something that surprised me.”
She vaguely realizes her lungs are burning. Ah. She’s forgotten to breathe. The slight gasp of an inhale she takes seems loud, too loud in this tiny, silent space. And it carries the scent of him into her lungs, warming her chest. The thumb pressing just below her lower lip is a burning contact point, begging her to take it into her mouth. To lave her tongue over it slowly.
Insanity. This must be insanity.
A deep, throaty chuckle barely registers over the static in her mind. “Maybe someday.”
Someday what?
But he leans back, settling against the tile with a smug look on his face, and the electricity dissipates. She is left dazed, confused, and flustered, wildly trying to find some sort of grip on what just happened.
“You’re going to lose your balance like that, sweetie.”
“I… what-” a sense of dread settles low in her stomach. Then, mortification, as she realizes she was leaning closer, chasing the strange electricity that had evaporated as quickly as it had come.
I should’ve fucking punched him.
She grinds her teeth together to avoid aiming one at him now.
"Well, apparently you're beginning to feel well enough to be your usual infuriating self," She leans back to stand up, deeply grateful to not be sitting on the hard tile anymore. "So, you likely don't need my help anymore, and you can make your way back to the N109 zone."
His smile is devilish. "So quick to leave your charge behind. Unfortunately, i doubt I'm in any shape to get back to my ride with the sun still out. And the gauze will need to come out in a little while anyway, so i can heal them faster."
"And?"
"And, since you've done such an excellent job with the bandages, I can't exactly manage that myself. So, I'll be needing your further assistance. Unless, that is, you mean to leave me to me own devices."
Absolute motherfucker.
She quickly starts assessing her options, there has to be some sort of out.
"I could just leave. Luke and Kieran can help you when you get back."
He gives a little nod, "You could."
The "but you won't" hangs unsaid in the air between them. Her better nature has backed her into a corner, and they both know it.
An irritated sigh escapes through her teeth as she holds out her hand to him, "Come on, I don't want all my hard work going to waste because you pass out from the change in altitude, and you crack your head open or something."
"So very selfless, miss hunter," he grins as he takes her hand. She yanks him upright, though it takes considerable effort. He reaches out to brace his good arm on the shower wall to keep from swaying off balance, the remaining half of his sodden, ruined shirt slipping to dangle from his shoulder.
"Altitude sickness?"
He gives a small laugh as he steadies himself. She remains close by, honestly a bit worried he will end up in a heap on the floor. And God, what would she do then? He'd be too damn long and heavy to move effectively.
Better safe than unconscious.
She tucks herself back against his now-bare side, and quickly realizes that maybe, just maybe, putting the side of her face directly against him like this was a mistake. She can feel the muscle of him firm against the curve of her jaw, and his deep chuckle against her ear as it rumbles through his chest nearly makes her breath stop. Again.
"And eager to help, too. A model example of a hunter."
"I liked you better when you were bleeding out." She grumbles, vaguely aware of him shaking the last bit of his shirt off.
If I dont kill him or kiss him before sunset it will be a fucking miracle.