#really...i should probably..stop being a lazy shit

[tracynade]

dude, you ROCK and good luck with all this stuff

omfg anon you’re too kind <3

and yes… it’s about time I grab it by the balls isn’t it

life.. I mean..not..uh

[skullzshooter]

PACK IT UP ⊹ㅤㅤㅤ

LNGSHOT OT4 x 5th member, Female!Reader

ⓘ synopsis. everyday you're grateful to have your own separate room and bathroom—safe from their chaos... wait, WOOJIN HASN'T PACKED YET? Your LNGSHOT adventures!

⚠︎ includes: profanities (cussing), unorganised boys (yes—woojin, we're looking at you), corny jokes, the use of em dashes, the unsightly existence of a random female member in a bg 🫣 (i got a lil inside joke with @keoncoer [rip, bro deleted their account. one of the best cortis smau accounts i knew]) READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION!

🗪 MY FIRST LNGSHOT FIC, let's gooo

🗪 yes ik ts unrealistic with the random female member in a bg, but im highkey just doing this for those small moments we wouldn't get otherwise if the reader were in another grp

but like, fanfics don't need to be very realistic n 100% accurate anyway, it's fiction n meant for entertainment purposes only. if u don't like? that's coo, just scroll n move on with ur day

stay fresh, chill, n juicy ^-^

┆LNGSHOT MASTERLIST This post is under the OT4 category!

There's a cosy warmth inside the LNGSHOT dorm. It's early in the morning and you still feel groggy—but the sound of sizzling is music to your ears as the aroma of grilling meat blesses your sense of smell.

You're lounging around in the kitchen, scrolling on your phone and occasionally glancing up to watch Ohyul make breakfast.

"That looks really good." Your eyes stare down the food like a hawk with it's prey.

Your comment causes the corners of his mouth to turn up into a small smile, "Right?"

He picks up a small piece with tongs and blows on it, "Try some."

You're happy—giddily bouncing on the spot as your eyes follow the meat being held closer to your lips. The bouncing comes to a stop when you open your mouth and welcome the explosion of flavour.

You groan with exaggeration, slouching against the kitchen countertop with a roll of your eyes for the dramatics.

"That shi bussin' real good, chef Ohyul. Five out of five stars. Cooked and seasoned to perfection."

The chef of today's breakfast can't hold back the laugh which you pull out of him.

He catches his breath before turning his attention back to cooking, "I should probably start my own restaurant then, huh?"

You shrug your shoulders with a lazy smile, "I mean—I'd support you. I volunteer as the paid food tester and critic." You emphasize on the word 'paid'.

"Paid?" He glances over to you with a look of disbelief painted onto his handsome features, "No way. That would just be robbing me blind and taking advantage of my amazing skills in the kitchen."

Raising your hands up in defence, your playful self doesn't seem to tire. "Hey—work out here's tough man. I'd be the best food critic ever. I'm not scared to tell you if your cooking is shit and you know it."

Ohyul takes a second to think about what you said, his face clearly expressing his moment in thought.

"Wow—you need to think about that?" You scoff in disbelief, feigning hurt.

This seems to break him out of character as he stifles a laugh which dies down to his signature smile—famous for charming all the people who see it.

"I'm kidding—of course. You're the best food critic I know."

You bathe in the praise, acting cocky as you raise a hand to your ear, "Say it again—say it louder."

He rolls his eyes with a smile, not wanting to fuel your ego to more than you can bare. "I guess I'm a good enough chef to have never received a negative review from you."

"Oh, definitely. You'd make a great housewife."

He's taken aback. Turning away from the meat on the stove to stare at you.

You seem lost in your own world now—coincidentally looking around the kitchen environment to busy yourself just when he happens to try and meet your gaze in confrontation.

Ohyul shakes his head at you, but the corners of his mouth remaining tugged up proves that he's not at all upset with your humorous observation.

As you glance around the kitchen, you catch glimpse of Woojin in the lounge area setting up a hand camera to record.

This catches your attention as your feet wander to him, "What're you up to?" Your eyes watch him work the device and it's enough for him to know what you're referring to.

"I'm going to record for a LNGSHOT vlog, you want in?"

It's ridiculous that he feels the need to ask. Something as fun as this? Count yourself in. "Hell yeah, let's go."

The camera starts running.

"What's up?"

'Nice start to a video' is what you think to yourself as you watch him start it off.

"Right now, I'm at the accommodation."

Woojin who stands beside you, angles the camera to catch your pretty face in all it's beautiful glory, "Y/N."

"Heyyy!" You wave, beaming the camera a bright smile.

You bite back a laugh at the awkward introduction once the camera leaves your face.

Catching Louis coming out of his room, the two of you meet him on your way to the kitchen, "Louis." Woojin turns the camera to Big Lou before the two of you wander to where Ohyul is—still cooking up a breakfast for the hungry members of LNGSHOT, "Ohyul."

Flipping the camera to look into a dark bedroom where a member is lounging with his phone, you and Woojin peek inside. "Ryul."

Cut.

You wave at Ryul who's on his phone, he waves back with a casual grin. "You and Woojin recording?"

You nod, "but mainly him because it's his segment." You join him in his room as the mentioned 17 year old busies himself elsewhere.

You nudge Ryul over to shamelessly stare at the contents of his phone—which would be considered a huge invasion of privacy if all the members of LNGSHOT weren't so close and comfortable with one another.

You trust them to let you know if anything you do causes any discomfort. And they trust you just the same.

Boundaries and rules were recently updated a week ago when the leader called everyone to the dining table on a random evening.

"I'm just scrolling on X, checking what's happening now." He explains, but you click your tongue and shake your head at him. There's a high chance he might see shit on there.

"That place is a graveyard for happiness. Infested with unhappy, unemployed, and sad people." You take the phone out of his hands which he allows. He runs a hand over his blonde buzz with an amused smile whilst watching you do your magic.

You switch it to TikTok where the both of you consume educational content—horse hoof cleaning videos.

Only the best education for refined students such as yourselves.

You're plastered to each other—cheek to cheek—whilst being immersed to the fullest, eyes not blinking with jaws hung at the satisfaction the clips bring.

"How did you end up grilling it?"

The LNGSHOT leader glances at Woojin in confusion, "Pardon?"

The camera catches a good angle of the food. "Where did you get it?"

It clicks for Ohyul, "Oh, you mean this meat?"

"No, he means the ceiling." You sarcastically chime in as you walk pass. This earns a side eye from Ohyul and a grin from Woojin.

"I got it from my only friend. It was a gift."

"Oh really?" Woojin asks in the background as Ohyul continues,

"My friend gave it to me and said I should share it with the members."

The teenager eyes the food, "You have a friend?"

You—who was searching the fridge with Louis pitches in, "Shocker."

Cut.

Ohyul throws another side eye at you and doesn't forget to shoot one at Woojin too. You shrug your shoulders with a smile of signature mischief, "Sorry. You leave open so many opportunities—I just had to take them."

"You're lucky I like you."

The members crowd Ohyul in the kitchen, Woojin continues recording. "Can I have a bite?"

"Sure."

He patiently waits before finally receiving a bite sized taste of happiness.

You watch this interaction and open your mouth too, waiting expectantly. There's no need for words. You're connected enough to communicate telepathically.

Ohyul sees you open your mouth and smiles, "Hey—this is your second one already." Against what he says, he blows on the most tender piece anyway before carefully feeding it to you.

⊹

Once alone, Ohyul tries a bite to see for himself what the all the hype is about. The taste has him—quite literally—bouncing around. "Woah. This is so delicious."

He understands the hype now.

Eating at the dining table with a camera propped up, it catches everyone in the frame.

You eat in silence, savouring the flavour in your mouth with every chew. You nod with furrowed brows when the texture and juice are to your satisfaction.

"Who has packed their luggage?"

"No one has packed yet."

You correct them, "I finished packing mine yesterday." They applaud you with cheers, "Oooh—Y/N. You're the only one I have hope for in this group."

"I agree. (?)"

"Yeah, you'll reach great heights."

"You're so organized."

"Guys—It's just a packed luggage..."

[KIM RYUL TIME]

Whilst Ryul is filming his segment of the vlog, you're watching as Louis picks up the basketball sitting in the corner.

"Ahh." The camera turns to the two of you.

"A basketball at dawn? That's a bit..."

Louis ignores the way his hyung questions his choices and proceeds to show off by spinning the ball on the tip of his middle finger.

"Ohh!" You're impressed as you clap your hands together, lips forming an 'o' shape as you watch the ball.

You picture in your head how it might go if you were to give it a try.

Louis smiles at how easily impressed you seem to be, his ego inflates at your lively reaction, "Cool, right?" To which you respond with an enthusiastic nod.

"Woah, you've got some special skill."

At Ryul's praise, Louis ignores him and only responds by bringing the ball to his chest—putting a stop to the spinning.

"This is, your hobby?"

"Yeah, basketball."

Cut.

"Is it hard to do?" You ask, analysing the ball in Louis' hand.

"It might be a little difficult at the start when you're trying to get the hang of it—but it gets easier." He glances down at the ball before tossing it to you. You instinctively catch it with both hands.

"Give it a try."

And you do just that. But not quite sure how to start, you can only place the ball on your finger before trying to give it a twirl.

Fail. The basketball rolls on the floor of Ryul's bedroom.

"Damn."

"I mean—you can always stick to music?"

┆LNGSHOT MASTERLIST This post is under the OT4 category!

© 2026 skullzshooterㅤ—ㅤMy work is NOT to be reposted on Tumblr or any other platforms, translated, and/or copied.

[babyleostuff2]

₊˚𓂃˖𝜗𝜚。𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

pairing(s): fraser minten, connor bedard, sidney crosby, will smith, macklin celebrini, william eklund x fem!reader

summary: each of the boys’ favorite way to spend time with you

you can find the request here

fm⁹³ masterlist ☁️ cb⁹⁸ masterlist ☁️ sc⁸⁷ masterlist ☁️ ws² masterlist ☁️ mc⁷¹ masterlist ☁️ we⁷² masterlist

𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐒𝐄𝐑

walk with me – mentally stimulating activities/ intentional downtime that has nothing to do with hockey. as much as he loves the game, he sometimes just needs a break from it. and when he’s with you, he wants to be just fraser, not the bruins’ center.

that’s when he lets himself indulge in things he usually doesn’t have the time or energy for. anything from reading, going on walks or road trips, playing board games (alone or with friends), building lego, to teaching you how to play the piano or trying out a new recipe – fraser is always the first to lace up his hiking boots or pick out a book for the day.

and it’s not just about the activities. it’s about being close to you, something he misses more often than he’d like. fraser sometimes feels guilty that he can’t give you as much time and attention as he wants because of his schedule, so whenever you’re together, he makes up for it in the only way he knows how. he holds you a little longer, kisses you a little more, keeps you close until you’re laughing and trying to pry him off you.

fraser is a ball of sunshine on a daily basis, but you can bet he wouldn’t stop grinning while getting beaten at a board game by you or when you nailed a piano sequence. he’s like a german shepherd with his protectiveness and level-headedness, but also a six-foot-two teddy bear who is completely smitten with you.

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐑

(i don’t really watch reality tv, so i’m totally out of the loop, sorry if anything’s off!)

oh, you can bet he’s got that shit running before you can even peep a word. is he a twenty-year-old hockey player or a teenage girl with a gossip account on twitter? connor loves hockey, but he also loves to just switch off that part of his brain sometimes, and what better way to do that than to watch some reality tv? Doesn’t matter what kind: love is blind, too hot to handle, physical:100, the traitors, or the great british bake off – he doesn’t care, just give him the drama.

but none of it would be as entertaining or meaningful if you weren’t there by his side. where’s the fun in the drama when there’s no one to share it with? and who better to do that with than the person he adores the most?

whether it’s after a game in bed, on a lazy afternoon on the couch, or just playing in the background while you make dinner, you let yourself get pulled into connor’s obsession with reality tv. it’s not just about the shows – it’s about watching him unwind, seeing him genuinely happy, and knowing that he can let go of everything else for a little while. his slightly dry, awkward humor, the way his eyes light up with excitement, the giddiness he can’t hide… it’s infectious. being there with him, sharing those small, silly moments, makes even the dumbest reality tv feel like one of your favorite memories together.

𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐍𝐄𝐘

he’ll never beat the unc allegations with this, but grocery shopping. does it sound boring? mundane? like a chore? the last thing you’d like to be doing? well, it certainly doesn’t feel like that for sidney. after twenty-one years in the public eye, being slammed, praised, made fun of, idolised, and dissected, sid craves these small moments of normalcy. as a teenager, he probably never imagined that walking through aisles of produce and canned goods would become one of his favourite parts of life. yet here he is, quietly savouring it.

and there’s something else you should know about sidney patrick crosby: he is utterly, completely in love with you. he worships the ground you walk on, and he would move mountains to make sure you’re safe from the glare of the media, comfortable, happy, at peace. you are the person who pulls him out of the chaos, who lifts his head when self-doubt creeps in after a bad game, who reminds him to breathe when he forgets. you are his anchor, his quiet in a life that never stops spinning.

he longs for domesticity, for a home that smells like routine and comfort, for security and love. and so, even grocery shopping with you – simple, ordinary – becomes extraordinary. it gives him a small, precious taste of normalcy. a chance to just be sid. just be himself. with you.

𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋

predictable and unsurprising – will loves baking with you. whether you sit at the counter and watch him do his thing or actually help out, he’s happy either way.

not only does he get to spend time with you, your favorite songs playing in the background, the two of you talking about nothing and everything, but he also gets to make something for you from scratch, which doesn’t happen that often.

it might seem silly to some, but no matter how many times he bakes for you, will still gets a little blushy at your compliments, at the way your face lights up when you take the first bite.

sometimes it’s quiet – just the two of you moving around each other in comfortable silence. other times, the kitchen is filled with his laughter and your protests echoing as he throws flour your way. and sometimes… it doesn’t go well. the batter is still raw, or completely burnt (like the time you forgot to set the timer and nearly set the apartment on fire).

but in the end, it’s never really about the food. it’s about making you happy and being close to you.

𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐋𝐈𝐍

might seem basic – but mack’s favorite thing to do with you is watching movies.

most of his life has been spent in endless training sessions, camps, hours in the gym, late nights at the rink. And now, as the nhl’s golden boy, with expectations on his shoulders no nineteen-year-old should have, he rarely feels like he can just… be.

some days are better, some worse, but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s macklin celebrini almost 24/7.

that’s why curling up under blankets, his head resting on your chest, one of your comfort movies playing on the tv, and your favorite takeout spread out in front of you is his favorite way to spend time.

he doesn’t have to pretend. he doesn’t have to perform. he doesn’t have to live up to anything.

sometimes you put on the worst, dumbest movies you can find just to make fun of them the entire time, throwing out the silliest jokes just to make each other laugh. and when one of you gets particularly talkative (which is… most of the time), the movie somehow ends up taking five hours because you pause every ten seconds to comment on something or go off on a completely random tangent, like something you saw at the store earlier that day.

it might be simple, but for those two hours, or five, he’s just a nineteen-year-old boy, wrapped up in you, and it makes him the happiest he can be.

𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐌

(i use mostly “wille” instead of “william,” since as an (adopted) scandi, his full name feels a bit weird, and saying “will” doesn’t feel right either. “wille” just feels more natural to me.)

anything outdoorsy with you makes william genuinely happy. even though he needs his rest, he often resembles an overexcited puppy that has to move, or he’ll implode. having been raised out in the outdoors, with countless trips, hikes, and summer days at his family’s stuga (swedish cottage), being outside isn’t just a hobby – it’s a lifestyle.

and you don’t have to tackle a hike or a road trip for him to be content (though he loves those too). a simple walk in the park or along the beach, your hand in his, is more than enough.

finally, wille can be fully present with you, not worrying about practice or the next game. he devotes all his attention to you, listening to the way your voice shifts when you tell him about the drama you overheard at the parking lot, noticing how you squint at the sun. he revels in all the small things about you, soaking them in like they’re the best part of his day. 

wille treats each outing as an adventure, never quite knowing where you might end up (once, both of your phones ran out of battery, and you wandered into an unfamiliar area, spending the next few hours trying to find your way back). rain, sun, wind, or thunder – william could walk to the ends of the earth, as long as it was with you.

[lovelyblossom87]

When the lion bares his claws…

Yandere overblot series~

Leona kingscholar x reader

Warnings: yandere Leona, swearing, mentions of blood, remember this is a dark series do not read if you’re uncomfortable. Reader will be known as yuu and will have she/her pronouns, and reader’s age is 18, shipping between Trey and reader. This yuu is a bit inspired by savannaclaw’s manga yuu!

Your mental health matters!

Leona is…hard to describe. Yes he’s a prince, but he’s so arrogant and lazy it’s hard to believe that he respects someone like Yuu. And as the only girl at an all boys school it’s hard to get taken seriously around here if it wasn’t for the beastmen. To Yuu’s surprise they really do act like their animal counterparts, which meant a lot of them had a lot more respect for women. Which is a nice change after all the bs Yuu had to go through in her world.

Currently Leona was napping in the botanical gardens in the school grounds, but damnit. Yuu keeps plaguing his dreams. He hates how much she bothers him, and he doesn’t even know her. He’s only met her that one time when she accidentally stepped on his tail. If she was a guy yeah Leona would have beaten the shit out of him. But yuu isn’t a guy, yuu is a girl. Not only that, she’s technically a woman. One that’s just two years younger. He may be a beastman, but he’s no animal.

Damn how he hates being a beast man sometimes though.

“Leona-San! I got your sandwich!” Ruggie says going up to the sleeping lion. Many say don’t wake a sleeping lion, but Ruggie rather not deal hungry Leona than a just woken up one. “Man I had to use my magic to make that little direbeast give it to me. Should have seen his face!” Ruggie laughs as he gives Leona the sandwich. Leona sits up and takes the sandwich and started eating.

“Ruggie. The interdorm torment is coming up…are you ready?” Leona asks him as he eats, ruggie smirks at Leona. “Of course I am, I’m prepared on my end boss.” Ruggie says making Leona chuckle. “Good there’s another thing I need you to do..” Leona says making Ruggie look up at him confused.

….

It was the next day when things seemed strange, Crowley had asked Yuu and Grim to figure out what’s going on and why so many star players are getting hurt. What didn’t help is that Trey got hurt too.

“It’s all my fault he fell because of me..” Riddle says as he looks down ashamed. “Did you push him?” Grim asked getting a smack on the head from Ace. “No it was strange, I didn’t trip it was like my body moved on its own. So Trey pulled me back and took the fall for me.” Riddle explains as he crosses his arms. Yuu goes over to Trey to help him sit up.

“It’s fine riddle really, besides I didn’t know getting hurt would mean a cute nurse.” Trey says with that smirk of his as he looks over at Yuu. “Watch it baker boy.” Yuu tells him with a light smile on her face. “Ew. Theyre flirting.” Ace says as cater takes a photo of the two posting it to his magicam account. “Cuteeee! #goals, #they should be a couple already, #just kiss already!” Cater says causing Yuu and Trey to blush.

“Anyway…we should get going, and check on the other guys who might be a target.” Yuu says putting a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Come on boys, we should let Trey rest.” Yuu says as she clears her throat. “Awww not gonna give your boyfriend a kiss?” Cater teases Yuu making her face flush up. “STOP-”

After leaving heartstabyul Cater tags along with Riddle and the first year duo. For some reason Cater got it in his head he’s a shipping master. He’s been trying to get Yuu and Trey together it’s his mission! It’s been good because Trey flirts with her, but Yuu gets so flustered is cute. The group checks in with the injured guys, and the ones that would probably be a target.

“Maybe it’s best if we don’t talk to the leech twins they tend to be-”

“Look Jade! It’s goldfishie!” Yelled a boy with teal hair, one golden eye and sharp teeth. “My my it seems we have a group of admirers.” Said another who looked exactly like the first one. “AH FLOYD-” riddle jumps up trying to keep his distance from Floyd. The group basically had to run away from Floyd after that.

But the days would get stranger and stranger, but Yuu had a clue board after meeting Jack Howl. A fellow first year. What didn’t help is that other guys from Jack’s dorm came to fight. It only got stopped when Leona showed up to stop it.

“Don’t you guys know it’s rude to fight in front of a lady? Geez…even if she’s seen some shit doesn’t mean she wants to see how beastmen fight.” Leona says as his dorm mates listen to him.

“If I think about it, we should warn Leona too.” Yuu says to cater making him do a double take. “Sorry to barge in like this, but we’re only here to warn Jack about someone targeting strong players, a lot of guys have been getting injured.” Yuu tells Leona making him scoff.

“You really think someone is dumb enough to target savannaclaw? I wouldn’t worry your pretty little head herbivore.” Leona says with a smug smile on his face. Yuu huffs and crosses her arms. “Well don’t come crying to me when your best players are injured Leona.” Yuu says as her and the heartstabyul boys head out.

“Okay okay. Fine I’ll let you worry about us for a second, how about we play spelldrive? My boys verses your boys. Entertain me herbivore?” Leona says placing his hand on Yuu’s shoulder stopping her from leaving. “Oh yeah! You’re on!” Grim yells making Ace and deuce gulp.

Let’s just say…they were crushed, bad. Really bad. “Good thing we didn’t bet anything or else this could have been much worse.” Cater says making sure this wasn’t going on magicam.

Later that night, Grim was sleeping peacefully as Yuu had much on her mind. Many things were bothering her, the fact Crowley dumped this investigation on her and Grim, that it was so strange that someone would target many people just for a game, and when will she be able to get home? She looks over at grim who was sleeping peacefully. She smiles and takes a blanket as she heads outside for a walk.

“Geez it’s cold…good thing I have this blanket…” yuu says to herself as she walks around. “Hm? Who said that?” Said a voice, yuu blinks in surprise as she looks up to find a guy around the gardens.

He was tall, handsome for sure, dark hair, piercing green eyes, and with horns on top of his head. “Ah! A tresspasser?!” Yuu says grabbing the closest thing to her, which was a twig on the ground.

“Hm…a child of man…pardon me I didn’t mean to frighten you.” Said the boy. “I was under the impression that this place was still abandoned.” Said the boy as yuu calmed down a bit. “Oh sorry then! Me and my roommate were given this place to live in for the meantime…I’m Yuu. The prefect of ramshackle dorm!” Yuu says introducing herself to the taller boy.

“Yuu? What a strange name for such a beautiful young lady…” the boy says causing yuu to flush lightly. Her cheeks burn a bit as she clears her throat. “Okay…isn’t this the part where you tell me your name?” Yuu asks him, he thinks for a moment then chuckles.

“Hmm…I think it’s best if you don’t know who I am just yet, therefore I’ll allow you to chose a name in the meantime.” He says offering an alternative suggestion. “But that’ll be for next time, I shall find another area of ruins since you now live here. Good night child of man.” The boy slightly bows then disappears the next second.

“The guys here are so weird…” Yuu says to herself as she goes back inside. Meanwhile Leona and ruggie were discussing more of their plan.

“Your plan is working perfectly Leona! Plus bagged you some lunch, so who’s my next target for my hunt?” Ruggie asks him as Leona crosses his arms. “I’m thinking the little wolf that can’t mind his business.” Leona says looking at his door, ruggie’s eyes widen in shock as he looked and saw Jack walk in with his ears down flat on his head with a frustrated look on his face.

“Well?” Leona says as he and ruggie look at Jack wanting to hear the wolf’s excuse. “I…I want to hear why you’re doing all this.” Jack says as Leona scoffs. “What? Little puppy wants to hear a bedtime story?” Leona says as he rolls his eyes, ruggie laughs. “Makes sense, the freshmen are all so young. Might as well right Leona?” Ruggie says with a smile that flashed his fangs.

For the rest of the night Leona explained his reasoning, malleus winning like it was child’s play. Making Leona look like a fool, no one taking the dorm seriously now, but this time. They will win. Jack didn’t really see his point of thinking. Not at all, especially after he noticed a bracelet belonging to the prefect on leona’s dresser.

Leona dismissed Jack after that, well he actually told him to get out. Not long after ruggie went to his own room as well. Leona sat on his bed looking down at his feet. Then he looked over at the bracelet he told ruggie to steal from the prefect. It was a charm bracelet that the heartstabyul dumb duo gave her. Something about the power of friendship or some dumb shit like that. He took the bracelet in his hands and lightly sniffed it.

It had the scent of metal, and Yuu’s scent. It was a mix of perfume in Sam’s shop and sweets. Probably from hanging out at that cake filled dorm all the time. If he wasn’t so busy planning malleus’ downfall hed scent mark her by now. “Dumbass…haven’t even noticed that her bracelet is gone yet…” Leona says as he knows that he’ll show everyone that she will be his mate and lioness. His queen of the savanna, after all every king needs his queen.

“Soon herbivore…you’ll be mine…”

……

The next morning yuu yawns as she walks with grim in her arms. They were talking about her encounter with the boy with horns last night.

“Honestly how Trey thinks you’re more organized than my books I’ll never know.” Said a voice behind them. Yuu turns around seeing riddle walk up to her. “Your tie is uneven. You must be presentable even if your only dorm member is…whatever grim is.” Riddle says as he fixes yuu’s tie.

“There now you’re more presentable, I would assume as the only girl here you’d notice these things.” Riddle says with a knowing smile as yuu rolls her eyes. “I noticed one time that Trey has a new cologne and suddenly I’m the future Mrs. Clover.” Yuu says as the two of them walk to to campus.

“Speaking of Trey how is his leg?” Yuu asks as riddle sighs. “Still the same, but it doesn’t hurt as much which is a good thing. I’m sure he would appreciate a visit from you prefect. Might make him happier.” Riddle says with a chuckle and smug smirk. Who would have thought riddle rosehearts could play Cupid.

“You’re not smooth rosehearts. And I don’t care if you’re supposed to be like a Queen that has hearts in his title nor that your last name has hearts.” Yuu says knowing the game riddle was playing. He smirks again at yuu. “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.” Riddle says making yuu let out a frustrated sigh, but a small smile finds her lips. 

Cater finds the two of them and tells them about Jamil, they went to go see how he was doing and see if he had any clue of who or what could have injured him. His story like the others didn’t make sense, he was doing a normal task and suddenly his body moved on his own. Which he brought up his own theory.

Someone was using magic to control his body movements.

Which sparked a memory jog in Yuu and grim. There was one time her and grim witnessed something similar. “Ruggie…it’s Ruggie!” Yuu and grim yell at the same time causing Kalim and Jamil to jump at the unexpected screaming. Yuu runs as Grim tries to keep on her shoulder as she runs to find him. She storms into his classroom out of breath. “Where’s Ruggie Bucchi?!” Grim yells as Ruggie scoffs as he gets up and pulls the two into the hallway.

“Listen you two, I don’t care what you’re doing right now, but I’m trying to learn here for make it quick.” Ruggie says his pocket feeling heavy. Damn Leona and him wanting ruggie to make it look like he just took it. Doesn’t he know how hard it was to get the first time? “We know it’s you that’s been hurting the other students. That caused Trey to get hurt!” Yuu says as she points at Ruggie glaring at him.

“And why do you care about four eyes?” Ruggie asks as he puts his hands in his pockets. Yuu blinks and clears her throat. “Doesnt matter…I just care about him okay..but you’re injuring a lot of people ruggie! You need to stop!” Yuu says as she puts her hands on her hips. “You’re so dumb you know that?” Ruggie says getting close to her. “Come on you should know better than be around someone shady like me, might end up losing something.” Ruggie says as he dangles her bracelet in front of her. Yuu gasps and takes the bracelet back!

“So you’re the one who took it! I went crazy looking for this!” Yuu says as she huffs and takes a step away from him. “Whatever. Just stay out of my way.” Ruggie says as he goes back into his classroom. “You know…your bracelet kinda smells like Leona.” Grim says as he hops into yuu’s arms again. “Hmm weird..”

Later that day Yuu and the others were approached by Jack, he warned them about Leona’s and ruggie’s plan about the spelldrive games. It wasn’t easy for Jack to trust people outside his dorm, he felt like he was betraying his pack. But even Jack knew this wasn’t right, and he had to do something. So they made a plan to fight.

“Yuu. You shouldn’t be around when we confront Leona…it would be…dangerous…for you.” Jack tells yuu privately. “What?! Why?! I’ve been part of this since the beginning, besides not like Leona is gonna overblot like riddle. I may be a girl but dont forget im older than you even though I’m in the same year as you. Don’t underestimate me.” Yuu says with a huff. Jack shakes his head knowing yuu is stubborn, he didn’t want her around mainly because he can smell Leona’s scent on her.

The last thing he needs is the lion fighting him because he’s too close to who he claimed and it would be his fault if she got hurt. “Thanks but no thanks, I’m not backing out. Leona doesn’t scare me. He’s just another guy, but with lion ears and a tail.” Yuu says walking off to her next class with grim.

……

Today was the day of the spelldrive tournament, today was the day to expose Leona’s plan and stop him for good. It should be simple, right?

Wrong. So wrong.

Yuu and the others were approaching to catch Leona and the other savannaclaw guys before they left to the stadium. Ruggie had already did his part of the plan. Everything was fine, until Lilia and two underclass men came with him with a smug grin. “My my…did you really think you could injury malleus? You’re quite bold.” Lilia says with a chuckle and a dark look in his eyes.

Leona rolls his eyes. “Ugh…whatever…what’s the point now? Malleus is okay so I won’t play then.” Leona says shocking the group. “L-Leona…what are you saying? We took out the other dorms best players so we still have a chance! We can still win if you’re on the team! We can’t win without you Leona!” Ruggie says as Leona growls.

“You think I fucking care?! I don’t! If I can’t have this win at least I’ll still have-” Leona looks at yuu, Ace and deuce had her behind them just incase a fight broke out. “Leona…?” Ruggie calls out his name. Leona walks over to yuu pushing the duo away from her. Yuu flinches seeing her friends fall to the ground. “Leona what the hell?!” Yuu yells at him before he grabs her wrist that had the bracket on. He pulls it up to his face.

“You smell like that damn baker…four-eyes…don’t you know lions are possessive over their mates.” Leona tells yuu, her eyes widen as she felt herself being tossed over his shoulder. “Leona what the fuck?! What are you doing?!” Yuu yells, before anyone could even try and grab yuu back Leona used his unique magic and started to break the ground itself.

“The hell?!” Ace says as he started to cough. “It’s dryer than the savanna itself!” Jack yells. Leona laughs keeping yuu close to him. “Just one thing! Can’t I have just one fucking thing I want in my life?!” Leona says laughing as ruggie climbed up and tried to reach for yuu knowing how dangerous Leona’s unique magic was. “Yuu! Take my hand!” Ruggie says, before yuu could even reach for ruggie Leona grabs him instead.

Ruggie let out a painful scream as Leona slowly started using his spell on him. Yuu stands trying to pry ruggie away from Leona. “Leona stop! You’re hurting him!” Yuu says terrified as she looks at Leona. There was a crazy look in his eyes. “Even him herbivore…? YOU’D CHOSE A LOWLY HEYNA OVER ME TOO?!” Leona yells at her grabbing her wrist as well.

“YUU!!” The group below screams as the skin on her arm started to crack. “You’re supposed to be my mate! See me win finally! Win against that stupid lizard!” Leona says as black goo started to fall down his face. “What the hell?! Whats on his face?!” Ruggie yells panicking.

“Fuck…it’s blot! RIDDLE!! LEONA GONNA OVERBLOT!” Yuu screams down to riddle, she kicks Leona causing him to let both her and ruggie go. “Ruggie come on!” Yuu uses her good hand to take Ruggie’s uninjured one. They both jump down landing on the ground together. “Fuck! This hurts like hell!” Ruggie says holding his hurt arm, it was bleeding from the cracks on his skin, Yuu’s arm was also covered in blood as well.

Lilia quickly pulls the two away from the cracks on the ground as Leona started to overblot. Quickly casting a spell to heal Yuu’s and Ruggie’s arms. “Silver! Sebek! Get Yuu and ruggie out of here! They’re injured and shouldnt be around the fight!” Lilia orders the pair, they nod.

Sebek helps ruggie get away, before silver could even get near yuu, the ground cracks beneath her causing her to fall and scream. “YUU! HOLD ON!” Cater yells down. They heard a cackle and saw Leona with a blot phantom behind him. “No one is gonna take my Queen from me! NO ONE IS GOING TO TAKE MY VICTORY!” Leona yells as he started to attack the group.

Cater jumps to the back and quickly makes clones of himself. Making sure a group gets to Yuu. “Cater!” Yuu calls out to his clones, they make a human latter and helped her out. “Come on! Before the lion rips us to shreds!” A cater clone says carrying Yuu away from the fight. “No! I’ve been here since the start and I’m going to be the one to finish it!” Yuu says getting out of the clone’s arms. Yuu runs towards Leona.

“YUU?! ARE YOU INSANE?! DONT BE STUIPD!” Riddle yells, but she wasn’t listening. “This is for Trey!” Yuu says landing a punch on Leona’s face.

Back in Yuu’s world…she was part of the girl’s boxing club. So she knew how to fight a man twice her size, her coaches made sure she and her club mates knew how to defend themselves, either from men or women. Or in Yuu’s case, a beastman lion who’s been over taken by dark magic.

“Oh? So the herbivore got some claws huh? Perfect! My lioness should be strong! You’re gonna be a great queen!” Leona says as he fights Yuu back. “We’ll hunt together! Get rid of those in our way! YOU’LL BE MY FAVORITE VICTORY!” Leona laughs as yuu kicks him back again. “NOT TODAY! ILL BE MY OWN VICTORY!” Yuu says as she tackles Leona off a cliff, yuu made sure Leona was keep taking step backwards as they both fought.

Yuu was going to accept falling down with Leona, she felt a tug at her arm and saw Leona before he threw her back up. She felt herself get lifted. It was Lilia flying just in time to save her. “Wait for me…herbivore..” yuu hears Leona say before Lilia catches her. Lilia floats back to the field where everyone was at. Grim runs up to Yuu and jumps into her arms. “Yuu! I was so scared! Never do that again!” Grim says smacking her good arm.

That day Yuu got a whole lot of scolding not hust from Grim, also from Riddle and the headmage for putting her life at risk going against Leona like that. But it was okay. Grim finally got to play spelldrive even though he accidentally knocked out Yuu.

In the infirmity, yuu was resting while Leona sat beside her. He watched her like she was prey. She might had stopped his over blot, but that didn’t mean she stopped his plan in winning her. Yeah it’s dumb making deals with Azul, but he’s the best in the business though.

Leona lightly kisses Yuu’s forehead as he pulls out a little glass vial, he opens her mouth to make her drink it. The moment she wakes up, she’ll be his. Forever. His queen, his mate, his….so in other words..

Leona won.

Author’s note: FINALLY!! This took me so long mainly because I forgot what happened in book two, but it was worth it hope you guys liked it and expect Azul’s yandere fic next week! Remember requests are still open!

[lazysoulwriter]

stars aligned ── .✦

requested! thank you. content: best friends to lovers, filthy smut, humor, astrology banter, oral (f. receiving), penetration, praise, dirty talk, friends crossing the line, lots of laughter.

It started as a joke.

You were sprawled across Pedro’s couch with your laptop open and your wine dangerously close to the edge of the coffee table, scrolling through a birth–chart site with the concentration of a scientist and the chaos of a gremlin. “Pedrito,” you announced, grinning, “your chart is screaming at me. Big… messy… main-character energy.”

He snorted, stealing your popcorn. “You don’t even know what you’re looking at.”

“I know enough,” you said, tapping the screen like a professor. “See this? This is ‘talk too much’ in three languages. And this—” you flicked to another page, “—this is ‘dramatic, probably a menace, almost certainly terrible in bed.’”

Pedro choked and sat up so fast half the popcorn went flying. “Take that back.”

You sipped your wine, smug. “Why? Does the truth hurt?”

He leaned in, eyes glinting, voice dropping into that warm, dangerous register that always got you in trouble. “Say I’m terrible in bed again.”

You meant to laugh. You were best friends. That’s what you’d always been. But his knee nudged yours, his gaze dipped to your mouth, and the air between you turned electric like someone had flicked a hidden switch.

“Terrible,” you whispered, just to be a brat.

He kissed you.

It wasn’t pretty. It was needy and surprised and a little clumsy—the kind of kiss that knocked your laptop sideways and almost took the wine with it. You grabbed his shirt. He cupped your jaw. Both of you laughed into each other’s mouths like you couldn’t believe what you were doing and did not plan to stop.

“Shit,” you breathed when you finally broke apart. “We shouldn’t—”

“We really, really should,” he rasped, forehead pressed to yours. “And we really, really can.”

Clothes happened to go missing on the tragic journey from couch to bedroom. Your shirt vanished. His hoodie hit the hallway plant. Somewhere, a sock gave its life. By the time you backed onto his bed, you were giggling so hard your stomach hurt, the kind of useless laughter that comes when you realize the line has already been crossed and you loved the feeling of tripping over it.

“Your chart,” you panted, as he ran his mouth down your throat, “does not mention you being this—”

He kissed the top of your breast and looked up from beneath his lashes, cocky and wrecked already. “Say it.”

“Loud,” you said, then squeaked when his thumb slid between your thighs. “Obsessed. Unfair.”

“Add it to the notes,” he murmured, kissing lower. “Under special skills.”

You made a noise that might’ve been a laugh and might’ve been a plea when he settled between your knees. He took a breath there—warm and shaky—then kissed the inside of one thigh, then the other, and you forgot your own name when his mouth finally found you.

There was nothing tentative about the way he ate you out. No careful testing, no gentlemanly distance. He buried his face in you like a starving man at a buffet, groaning when you grabbed his hair, humming like he could purr you open with vibration alone.

“Pedro—” your hand fisted in his curls, the other clawing at the sheet as his tongue drew lazy circles and then not-so-lazy ones. “Oh my— God, don’t stop, don’t you dare—”

He laughed against you, wicked and pleased. “What was that about being terrible?”

“Liar,” you gasped, hips pitching up as he flattened his tongue and slid two fingers in to join the party, crooking them just right. “Fraud. Slander. I take it all back—oh—”

He muttered something filthy against your skin, the kind of praise that melted your spine: good girl, sweet thing, look at you, let me hear you. When you broke, you didn’t so much come as shatter, the orgasm ripping a loud cry from your throat that probably alerted the building. Pedro rode it out like he’d trained for this, stroking and licking until you were trembling and useless, until you pushed at his shoulder with a whine that said mercy.

He kissed your thigh in apology and crawled up your body, mouth slick and eyes blown, and kissed you slow so you could taste yourself on him. It was obscene and perfect.

“You’re infuriating,” you said, smiling into the kiss.

“Your infuriating,” he corrected, fumbling his jeans open with shaking hands. The condom made an appearance like he’d willed it into existence; then he paused, hovering, eyes searching. “We okay?”

You pulled him down by the back of his neck. “More than okay.”

The first push was a stretch that stole both your breaths. You clutched at him, nails in his shoulders, as he sank in inch by devastating inch. He swore softly into your cheek, forehead pressed to yours.

“Friends don’t do this,” you whispered, because you had to say it out loud to believe it.

He laughed, broken and giddy, and rolled his hips. “Guess we’re not just friends anymore.”

The rhythm he found wasn’t careful. It was hungry, like every near-miss moment you’d had over the years—every too-long hug, every look that lingered—had condensed into heat and pushed through his body. You wrapped your legs around his waist and met him, hard and greedy, the bed frame complaining while he drove you into the mattress.

“Shit—Pedro—” you gasped, and then half-laughed, half-moaned when he changed angle and hit a place inside you that flipped your brain off like a light switch. “Do that again. Again—”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, dazed with obedience and absolutely thrilled by it. He did it again, and again, praising you in a rough, reverent stream. “So good—feel so good—mine—been thinking about this—thinking about you—”

You dragged his mouth back to yours just to shut him up, then failed immediately because kissing made him louder. He broke for air with a wrecked laugh. “This is insane. We’re insane.”

“Uh-huh,” you said eloquently, clenching around him just to watch his eyes roll. “Keep going.”

He obeyed like you’d tied a string to his spine. When your second orgasm started building, he knew before you did; his hand slid to your jaw, thumb stroking your cheekbone while his hips never faltered. “There it is. Come for me.”

You did, messy and loud and shameless, clutching him like he was the only solid thing in the room. The way you squeezed around him dragged a guttural sound out of his chest; he followed hard on your heels with a curse and a helpless thrust, burying himself deep as he came, shaking with it.

Silence fell, warm and breathy and holy. For a long time, the only sound was your heart hammering against his, the only motion the slow glide of his palm up your side like he was memorizing skin he’d known for years.

Eventually he rolled, pulling you with him so you ended up on top, cheek on his sternum. He tucked your thigh over his hip and held it there like you might float away.

“Hey,” you murmured, voice wrecked and sleepy. “So… the chart.”

Pedro kissed your hair, smiling so big you felt it against your scalp. “Please don’t bully my celestial report. It did its job.”

“Mm.” You traced lazy shapes on his chest. “I was just gonna add a note.”

He hummed, curious. “Yeah?”

“Under ‘talk too much’: insufferably hot while doing it. Under ‘romance potential’: catastrophic.”

“Rude,” he said, delighted.

You lifted your head to look at him. He was flushed and mussed, curls a disaster, mouth swollen, eyes soft in a way that had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with the fact that you’d been his best friend before you were this. He reached up, tucked a strand of hair behind your ear like he’d been waiting years to do it like this.

You stayed like that for ages. At some point he brought water without letting you go for long, at some point you wiped each other down with the softest towel you could find, at some point you whispered things that had nothing to do with stars and everything to do with gravity—how you’d always fallen toward each other, how maybe you’d been orbiting this for years.

Later, when the room was dark and the city hummed outside his window, Pedro nosed at your temple and murmured, “We’ll be idiots about this tomorrow.”

“Catastrophic,” you agreed, smug and sated. “Main-character energy.”

He chuckled, soaking in the sound like sunlight. “Mine.”

“Yours,” you said, and the word felt like you’d finally found where to set it down.

The stars didn’t have to warn you about this. They could never have measured it anyway.

✦ please do not copy, repost, or translate this work. © lazysoulwriter // i write with a lot of love and care, so please respect that.

[clickityweasel]

cheapskate bleach tutorial

Sticking it under a readmore but this is how i make my shirts etc for like a fiver's worth of materials. I am far from being an expert btw im just playing with chemicals. also probably do this in a ventilated area or something

You will need:

Bleach (I use thick toilet bleach it's like 80p)

The thing you want to bleach onto (In this case, a tote bag for a friend. usually i thrift old black shirts.) You should do a patch test before any real bleaching -- dab a tiny bit on the inside of a hem somewhere before you commit. I don't show that below because i forgot to do it but you should. You should ALSO iron the thing before you bleach it. So it's flat. Do as I say not as I do etc.

Something to put inside / between your garment and the table (Asda brand weetabix box babyyy)

Paintbrush (Mine is from a multipack from Poundland. I also accidentally left it in bleach last time and it kind of dissolved so I had to cut off the most egregious of the stray bristles.)

Chalk (For snacking) (I'm joking please don't eat the chalk) (I only have big pavement chalk, again, from Poundland, but you can get a good point with a craft knife)

Step one: move the cat

Step two: insert cereal box into / behind the thing you are bleaching.

Step three: chalk on your design. this is the logo of a wine brand i have never tried but i like the snail. It can be super rough or very precise, whichever helps you know where to put your lines.

As you can tell it's easy to move stuff and redo it by just smudging the chalk away, or, worst case scenario, giving it a wash. Though that sucks if you're impatient like me bc you do NOT want to bleach this while it's wet. Once you're happy with your design, smack it around a bunch to take off most of the chalk, so you wind up with a vague outline. I didn't get a pic of this stage but here's what the iasip one looked like:

Step four: Acquire your bleach and put it in the special bleach jar your hosuemates labelled so you would stop drinking normal water out of it. Accept that Nyx hates you for not letting her drink it.

Step five: Go for it man. The bleach is kinda goopy so don't expect it to come out like paint, but it does mean that you can control the line crispness and width quite easily depending on how hard you press the brush down. I find it really helps for stuff like serif fonts.

You can dilute your bleach with water, which can help it get into all the little crevices esp if your fabric is a little bumpy, but do another small patch test before committing to anything on the main piece, because some fabrics absolutely suck up water and your lovely crispy lines will blow out like an old tattoo. don't do it. Unless you want that look, in which case get silly with it

The other weird thing abt it is obviously that you can't see what you painted right away, it takes a couple seconds to show up, so it's a pretty slow process. The fabric will first go darker where you painted, then lighten from orange to a pale yellow over about 30 seconds. DON'T go "this bleach aint shit" and paint over it to make it lighten faster -- overbleaching it can weaken the fabric and make it tear.

Tragic.

Here are some progress shots of the snail! When you're finished, you should wait for it to develop properly, but it depends how light you want it to be. I let the lines sit for a while before doing the details, and then washed it a bit prematurely so they'll stay a little darker. For nice pale yellow you want to wait around an hour.

Step six: drown her

Nice cold water, wash out all the remaining bleach and chalk. I chucked it in the wash for ten minutes because it's a weird shape and size to wash in the sink and I'm a lazy bastard. but handwashing works just as well.

Step seven: revel in your new bootleg merch. You made that. You did that. thrive. go forth and make weird shit.

[jungkoode]

死 KKANGPAE | #15 死

† arrangements †

"You were supposed to go back to individual training sessions with Takama. But today, it is Jeon standing there instead. And you really feel like easing off some tension."

next | index | wc: 9k

↪︎author's note : AHHHHH MY PRECIOUS BABY CHIMCHIM (ᗒᗣᗕ)՞ What are you getting yourself INTO, you financial genius disaster? Every time I write Jimin scenes I'm just sitting here like "no baby no don't do it" while simultaneously typing out exactly what he's doing. I'm his god yet I have no control. The duality of being an author. ANYWAY, let me know your thoughts about Y/N and Jeon's little "arrangement". ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) Also... the way this man goes from cheeky little shit to MAN OF STEEL in 0.2 seconds is honestly doing things to me. Like the DUALITY?? One minute he's all sarcasm and eyerolls and the next he's all commanding presence and intense stares. Please show me all your facets while I mil— ANYWAY! 🥰 Hope you enjoy this chapter, you magnificent disaster magnets! I see you all in the comments thirsting over fictional gang members and I just want you to know I'm judging you... from my very similar position of also thirsting over fictional gang members. It's a hard life, but someone's gotta live it. Stay hydrated! You'll need it after this chapter!

Training room it is today. Takama is probably waiting for you.

You step inside immediately and—fuck. The air's different. Not the usual sweaty, stale gym smell, but something...else. It's like walking into a storm front, all electric and tingly on your skin.

Weird.

You stop, blinking. Your brain's trying to process what your body already knows: something's off.

Shaking it off, you scan the room for Takama. He's usually here by now, ready to nag you about your form or whatever. But nope. Instead, your eyes land on—

Oh.

Jeon.

Shit.

Your whole body goes rigid. This is not what you signed up for today. Takama's stern but predictable. Jeon? He's a walking thunderbolt.

He hasn't clocked you yet. He's too busy with his hand-wrapping ritual, black tape winding around those knuckles like he's prepping for war. I̶t̶,̶s̶ ̶w̶e̶i̶r̶d̶l̶y̶ ̶m̶e̶s̶m̶e̶r̶i̶z̶i̶n̶g̶.̶You've tried it yourself, but you always end up looking like you got in a fight with a roll of duct tape and lost.

The door clicks shut behind you. Loud. Way too fucking loud.

Jeon's head snaps up, eyes locking onto yours. Fuck. It's like being caught in a headlight beam, but instead of deer-in-headlights frozen, you're fight-or-flight wired. His gaze is pure Kkangpae—hard, sharp, seeing right through your bullshit.

"Thought you could sneak up on me?"

You try for casual, miss by a mile. "Takama's usually not this quiet."

Jeon's mouth twitches. Not quite a smile. More like you just told a joke only he got.

Great start. This is gonna be fun.

"Takama had to handle some business. Guess you're stuck with me. It'll be good in preparation to our upcoming mission."

IIt's not a question, it's a fucking statement. And you know better than to argue with that tone.

Right. The mission.

Shit.

It all comes flooding back now. That goddamn mission assigned to you and Jeon back on the camping trip. The one where you both have to infiltrate MDF—Kkangpae's number one rival. Talk about high stakes.

You know how crucial this is. You know you need to concentrate now—more than ever.

But fuck.

Your eyes betray you, sweeping over Jeon's training attire.

It's insulting, is what it is.

That simple tank top might as well be painted on, doing jack shit to hide the sculpted landscape of his muscles. And those grey sweatpants? They're hanging so low on his hips it should be illegal.

(If you tried hard enough—which you're not, obviously—you're pretty sure you could see that happy trail you remember from that night in the tent.)

The fabric clings to him like it's got a personal vendetta against your sanity, obeying gravity with a lazy kind of insolence. And that silver neck chain? It's playing peekaboo from under his top, daring your eyes to follow its path. A metallic tease against skin you shouldn't be thinking about.

You shake your head, trying to clear the fog of distraction.

Focus. Mission. Training.

Not Jeon's body.

You make your way to the corner where bandages and tape are strewn across a metal shelf. The mess speaks volumes—countless sessions of wrapping, unwrapping, preparing for fights both won and lost.

Grabbing a roll of black tape, you try to mimic what you've seen Jeon do a hundred times before. But your fingers feel clumsy, uncooperative. The tape sticks to itself, to your skin, everywhere but where it's supposed to go. You end up with more gaps than protection, the wrap loose in all the wrong places.

And Jeon? He's watching you. You can feel his eyes on you, sharp and intense. His face is unreadable, a perfect mask. But you'd bet your last dollar he's judging every fumbled attempt, every misplaced piece of tape.

Then he scoffs, the sound cutting through the air like a whip crack. Before you can react, he's moving towards you—footsteps echoing in the quiet room, each one making your heart beat a little faster.

And then he's there, right in your space.

The heat rolling off his body makes you acutely aware of how cool the air is around you.

He leans in close—too close—to inspect your sad attempt at hand-wrapping.

"Let me," he growls.

You don't even try to argue. What's the point? Jeon's already unraveling your sad attempt at hand-wrapping like it's the world's shittiest birthday present.

His fingers brush against your skin and for a second it's like someone just plugged you into a live wire.

He starts rewrapping your hands, and you're caught in this weird... limbo.

Because his touch is firm, almost stern, but there's this... gentleness to it that makes no sense coming from him.

It's a mindfuck, really.

This is Jeon. Cold, distant, get-the-fuck-away-from-me Jeon.

But here he is, handling your hands like they're made of glass.

Your heart's going a mile a minute, and you're praying to whatever gang deity is out there that he can't hear it. His hands are everywhere, wrapping the tape around your wrists with a precision that's almost artistic. It's like he's crafting this black armor just for you, and every pass of the tape feels more intimate than the last.

And why the fuck does he have to smell this good? It's unfair, really.

Every now and then, his eyes flick up to meet yours, and it's... like looking into the sun peeking between the clouds.

Like something is hovering—something molten and wild that reminds you of tents and nighttime.

"Tight enough?"

You manage a nod, amazed that your brain can still form coherent thoughts.

"Perfect," you say, definitely not thinking of the innuendo.

The corner of his mouth twitches, and for a heart-stopping second, you think he's read your mind. You don't like that knowing look in his eyes.

"There," he says, giving the tape one last tug. It pulls you closer, just a fraction, but it might as well be a mile. "You're ready."

Ready for what? you want to ask. Ready for training? Ready for the mission? Ready for whatever the hell this tension between you is building towards?

But you don't say any of that. You can't. Because this is Jeon, and you're you, and there are a million reasons why this—whatever this is—can't happen.

Even if it already happened once. Even if he's there, looking like a five course meal.

So you just stand there, hands wrapped perfectly, heart racing, caught in the gravity of Jeon's presence and wondering how the fuck you're supposed to focus on training now.

"Let's get started."

It hits you like a sledgehammer to the chest—everywhere at once—this massive storm system rolling in, all dark clouds and electricity. The kind that makes your skin prickle and your hair stand on end. The training room suddenly feels too small to contain it.

Contain him.

You move to the center of the mats, too aware of every step and where your feet are landing. He's still watching you—you can feel those eyes tracking your movements like a sniper's scope.

You try to copy his stance, but it's like your body's forgotten how joints work.

Everything feels awkward.

"How are you with your blocks?"

"I can handle it," you say, going for confident but landing somewhere around defensive.

He laughs. It's not a nice sound. More like broken glass wrapped in velvet.

"We'll see about that."

Because fuck. Training with Takama was... different. Predictable. Safe, even. You knew what to expect—his patient corrections, his methodical approach.

But this?

This is like jumping into the deep end of a pool filled with sharks.

And Jeon?

He's the great white circling you.

Everything feels suffocating, like there's not enough oxygen in the room for both of you. It's hard to breathe, his presence pressing in from all sides like you're caught in a fucking typhoon. You can practically taste the ozone.

Jeon circles you lazily and honestly? It's terrifying how someone so big can move so quietly. His control is infuriating—while you're here trying not to vibrate out of your skin, he looks like he could be ordering coffee.

"You're tense."

No shit, Sherlock.

The observation hits a nerve. Maybe because it's true, maybe because you hate how easily he can read you. You try to relax your shoulders, aiming for that casual 'oh-this-is-totally-fine' vibe.

Then his hand hovers over your lower back.

You flinch. You can't help it. He's not even touching you, but you can feel the heat radiating from his palm, just a breath away from contact. He's telling you to fix your posture without a single word, and your body responds before your brain can tell it not to.

Your abdomen tightens in defiance, like some part of you is still telling him to fuck off. But you straighten up anyway, because what else can you do? Not like Mr. Perfectionist here will take anything other than perfection.

Jeon steps back, and you try to remember how breathing works. Focus. This is training, not whatever the fuck that hand-wrapping thing was. You need to get your head in the game before he notices how rattled you are.

You watch him demonstrate a block.

It's unfair, really, how he makes it look so effortless—like he's been doing this since birth. (Maybe he has—he definitely looks like he fights nurses, if his attitude with J-Hope is any indication).

His forearm cuts through the air in this fluid motion that's somehow both defensive and threatening at the same time.

"Now you," he says, and oh there it is. That hint of smugness in his voice that makes you want to either punch him or—

Absolutely not. You are not going there.

He knows though. You can tell by the way his mouth quirks up slightly at the corner. He knows exactly what he's doing, the bastard. Knows he's got you at a disadvantage with his years of experience. But there's something else there too, in the way he's watching you. Like he's getting some sort of kick out of whatever this is.

You mirror his movement, slicing your arm through the air; and it feels good—solid. Like maybe you're not completely hopeless at this.

He gives you this tiny nod, and for a split second, there's something that looks almost like approval in his eyes.

But it's gone before you can really process it, replaced by that laser-focused look he apparently gets when he's in full instructor mode (like right now).

"Again," he orders, and you comply.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Each time, the movement feels more natural, less like you're just flailing your arm around and more like you might actually be able to stop someone from punching you in the face.

And all the while, he watches like a fucking hawk. Cataloging every single one of your mistakes, every moment of hesitation.

It's intense, being under that kind of scrutiny. Makes your skin prickle.

Then he moves—just this slight shift of weight—and suddenly he's closer.

His foot nudges yours, and you get the message without him having to say a word.

Your stance is off.

You adjust quickly, shifting your feet until you feel more grounded.

"Like this," he says, and it's low and gravely.

His voice shouldn't affect you. It's just two words.

It does.

You force yourself to focus on the technical stuff. The way his feet are positioned, how his knees are slightly bent like he's ready to move at any second. And then you copy his stance, feeling the stretch in your calves as you adjust.

In through the nose, out through the mouth. Count it out in your head.

One, two, three, four.

Anything to keep your mind off the way he's circling you again.

Because that's what he's doing now—moving around you like some fucking lion sizing up a calf.

His presence is like gravity, pulling at something deep in your chest.

It's distracting as hell.

But you're determined not to let it show.

You've got something to prove here, after all. Even if you're not quite sure what that is anymore.

"Not like that", he says and...

His hand's moving again, and your brain halts all its processes when his fingertips brush your shoulder.

It's supposed to be professional. Just another training correction.

But your body didn't get that memo, because every nerve ending lights up like it's a fucking carnival.

His hand starts this slow slide down your arm, and you're pretty sure this isn't standard training procedure. Your arm quickly gets covered in goosebumps, betraying exactly how not professional this feels.

When his fingers wrap around your elbow, you almost forget how to breathe. His grip is firm—s̶e̶x̶y̶ steady—and you can feel the calluses on his fingertips from years of handling weapons.

"Your alignment," he says, and shit... His voice has dropped into that same low register he pulled back in the tent. "It's crucial. When you block, you need to be solid, unyielding. Like this."

You feel the strength in his grip all the way up your arm. The way he's holding your elbow, it feels like he's trying to rewire your muscle memory through touch alone. It's invasive in the best-worst way possible, like he's leaving his fingerprints on your bones.

You should be focusing on the block he's teaching you. That's what a good student would do.

But instead, all you can think about is how his palm is practically burning against your skin, how strong his fingers feel, and how every "correction" feels more like a caress.

When he finally lets go and steps back, it's like someone just yanked away your favorite blanket. The air feels too cold where his hand was, and you have to fight the urge to chase that warmth.

"Now, let's see you put it into action," he says.

Get it together, you tell yourself.

This is training. Just training. Nothing else.

(You don't even believe your own lies anymore.)

You try to focus on breathing. In, out. Simple stuff. But it's not working, because every time Jeon adjusts your stance, every careful correction he makes, it's like striking matches against your skin.

At this point, your brain can't string two thoughts together.

Not with Jeon there, touch somehow both grounding and displacing.

Then he's back in your space.

And his hands are suddenly on your hips.

The touch is professional—or it's trying to be—but his fingers spread wide, pressing into you through your training gear like he's trying to leave prints. Like he's trying to remind you of that other time those hands have been there.

He stares at where his hands rest for way too long to be just about fixing your stance.

The air gets thick. Sticky.

You can feel every slight adjustment of his fingers, how his palms mold against your hips like they're meant to be there.

When he looks up, it knocks the breath right out of you. His eyes are dark, searching your face for... something. You're both breathing the same air now, and fuck, you remember this kind of proximity. Remember what it leads to.

Then his tongue flicks out, wetting his lip ring, and your brain just—stops. It's absent-minded, probably, but Christ. The metal catches the light, and suddenly you're back in that tent, remembering exactly what that piercing feels like against your—

Focus, bitch.

His hands haven't moved from your hips. Haven't even twitched. Like he's forgotten they're there, or maybe like he can't bring himself to move them.

He's not apologizing for it either, though.

Not that you want him to.

"What about now?" Your voice comes out embarrassingly breathless.

"Yeah," he says, and oh. His voice has gone all rough around the edges. "This is good. Real good."

The way he says it—like he's not just talking about your stance—makes heat pool low in your stomach. You know that tone. You've heard it before, whispered against your skin in the dark.

Professional, you remind yourself. This is supposed to be professional.

(It's really, really not.)

His thumbs start moving against your hips—tiny, barely-there circles that are definitely not about fixing your stance anymore. The touch is light through the fabric, but it might as well be branded into your skin.

Then he clears his throat, the sound sharp and sudden. Just like that, he's stepping back, putting distance between you.

Your skin feels weirdly empty where his hands were.

You watch him slip back into Chief mode. It's fascinating, really, how he does it. Like watching someone put on armor piece by piece. His face goes blank, eyes cooling until they're giving nothing away. Pure business. This is the Jeon that everyone else sees—the Chief of Tactical Assassinations, not the guy who just had his hands on your hips like he owned them.

Training kicks back in.

The tension does not dissipate.

He spars, but this time it's like... Like he's built this invisible wall between being your instructor and being... whatever else he is to you. And he's trying real hard not to cross it.

You match his energy, throwing yourself into it. You're here to be instructed, after all.

Then he pulls this move—his feet moving so fast they blur. You think he's going left, but nope. It's a trap, and you fall for it like an idiot. You stumble, losing your balance, and—

Oh.

Oh.

His arm catches you around the waist, hard and sure.

The contact hits different this time—no pretense of training, just pure instinct.

This isn't your instructor catching a student.

This is just Jeon catching you.

His grip is steel, anchoring you against him. You can feel everything—the hard planes of his chest, the rapid rise and fall of his breathing, the way his bicep flexes against your back. His thigh is pressed against yours, and you try very hard not to think about that.

You can feel his heart hammering where you're pressed together, matching yours beat for frantic beat. His hand spans your waist like he owns it.

You turn your head, just a little, just enough to see— Jesus.

His eyes are dark, wild. Like he's fighting a war with himself and losing badly. Pupils are blown wide, fixed on you.

You've seen that look before, in a tent, in the dark.

When he swallows, you can't help but track the movement. His throat works, pulse visible under the skin.

It's weirdly vulnerable, seeing that flutter of pulse on someone who's usually all hard edges and control.

The silence in the room feels heavy. All you can hear is breathing—yours, his, both of you trying to pretend this is still just training.

His grip on your waist tightens, just a fraction, and your body betrays you. You lean back into him, seeking that solid warmth. Because apparently, your survival instincts have left the chat.

His other hand hovers near your stomach, not quite touching. It's weirdly protective, like he wants to shield you from something.

From what?

From himself, maybe.

The hand trembles slightly. Jeon is trembling.

That hits different, knowing someone so controlled is fighting for composure. It has you almost whining, the distance between his palm and your body.

Focus. Breathe.

But how are you supposed to focus when he's right there?

Because hell, this is Jeon—Chief of Tactical Assassinations, walking danger sign, and somehow the person you want most.

Your eyes drift to his lips because you're a m̶a̶s̶o̶c̶h̶i̶s̶t̶ glutton for punishment. They're right there, and that lip ring is practically taunting you. You remember exactly how that metal feels, how it tastes. Your throat works as you swallow, mouth parting on its own, like your body's sending out an open invitation.

At that, his eyes immediately drop to your lips. Just a flicker, almost nonexistent, but you saw it. The look in his eyes—fuck.

You've seen hungry before, but this?

This is starving.

You tilt your head up, slow, careful, like you're approaching a wild animal. Your heart's trying to break out of your chest, and breathing? That's for people who aren't about to kiss their superior officer.

You lean in, slow. So fucking slow. Like if you move too fast, he'll spook and bolt.

His breath catches. The sound is soft, intimate, does stupid things to your core. You brush your lips against his, just barely, just enough to test, tease.

For a moment, he's completely still. Like he's processing, like he can't believe this is happening.

Then—holy fuckity hell.

He kisses you like he's dying for it, like he's been holding back forever and can't anymore. His lips are insistent, demanding, coaxing yours apart. There's something desperate in the way he angles his head, deepening the kiss, claiming your mouth like he owns it.

Your hands move without permission—one in his hair, one gripping his shoulder. The contrasts under your fingers ground you: soft strands, hard muscle. He tastes like mint and something darker, something that makes you want to crawl inside him and stay there.

It isn't some sweet, gentle thing.

It's a continuation of your sparring match, just with different rules.

He softens for a moment, less demanding, more inviting, and you lean into it, chasing his taste.

Finally, finally, his hovering hand makes contact. It spreads across your stomach, possessive, anchoring you against him like he thinks you might try to escape.

As if you could.

As if you'd want to.

Your fingers find his jaw, smooth skin under your touch.

When he pulls back, it's like it physically pains him. He gasps, the sound cutting through the heavy air. His eyes are wild, unfocused, like he's just come up for air after nearly drowning. There's a storm brewing in those dark depths, and you're caught right in the middle of it.

"I thought that was a spur of the moment kinda thing?"

His voice drops low, and you know exactly what he's talking about. That night in his tent during the camping trip, when things got real heated real quick.

You raise an eyebrow, channeling every ounce of b̶a̶d̶ confident bitch energy you can muster.

"I don't see why it has to be. I find you hot, you find me hot."

"Making assumptions now, are we?"

The playful edge in his voice does things to you. He's toying with you, and the worst part? You're kind of into it.

"Actions speak louder than words, Jeon." You lean into your sass because fuck it, why not? "And considering I had you cumming all over me a couple of days ago, I'd say you don't find me aesthetically unpleasant."

His lip curls into that fucking smirk—you know the one. It's rare and deadly and makes your stomach do this weird flippy thing.

"Oh?"

It's just one syllable, but Jesus Christ. The way he says it—all low and gravelly—makes your lungs seize.

"Going there, huh?" He tilts his head, and you can practically see the cockiness radiating off him. "Then I guess we can say the same about you."

You can't help the scoff that escapes.

It's either laugh or combust, honestly.

"I already said I find you hot. Craving compliments that much?"

"Just wanna hear it again." His smile widens, and fuck, it's not fair how good he looks when he's being an asshole. "Strokes my ego."

You swallow hard, trying to get your shit together. Because this? This is a whole new side of Jeon you're seeing. One minute he's Mr. Ice King, all cold and untouchable, and the next he's... this.

This s̶e̶x̶y̶ infuriating bastard who knows exactly what he's doing to you.

And the worst part? He's really good at it.

(Your underwear situation is becoming a serious problem, but you'll die before admitting that to him.)

"I think you're hot," you whisper, because fuck it—might as well lay all your cards on the table.

"I know."

The sheer audacity—

He says it with this cocky certainty that should be annoying but somehow isn't. Like he's stating that water is wet or the sky is blue.

You press on, because apparently your brain-to-mouth filter decided to take the day off. "So it doesn't have to be a one-time thing."

"Really."

It's not even a question. He's amused, the bastard. His chuckle hits different—low and rich and doing things to your insides that you'd rather not analyze right now.

"Just..." You try for casual, miss by a mile. "Think of it as a way of improving synergy between gang members."

The moment it leaves your mouth, you want to cringe.

Synergy? Really? But you see the way his lips twitch, and yeah, okay, maybe it wasn't your worst line.

"Hmm? I'll make sure to send Moon the briefing for approval."

"Make sure to give me credit then."

"Will do."

"So indulgent," you tease, because apparently you have a death wish.

He raises an eyebrow, and oh. Something shifts in his expression—something dark and promising that makes your stomach flip. He does this thing with his tongue, running it along the inside of his cheek like he's considering all the ways he could r̶u̶i̶n̶ wreck you.

"You know how indulgent I can be, sunshine."

Fuck.

That nickname. The way he says it—soft but loaded with intent.

It's not fair how he can take two simple words and turn them into something that feels like a caress and a threat wrapped in one.

Your heart's going absolutely feral in your chest. You're pretty sure he can feel it, which is just... great. Really great.

You swallow hard, trying to remember how words work.

"Don't you think..." You pause, trying to find the right words without sounding too desperate. "...that as gang members, we need to... release some tension from time to time? For the sake of the gang."

His mouth twitches. You want to punch him.

"For the sake of the gang," he echoes.

"Mhm." You feel a little rush of pride at having his complete attention. It's not easy to get Jeon to focus on anything that isn't mission-related. "And, you know... Fucking just seems like the healthier option."

The silence that follows should be awkward. It should be, but it's not. It's charged.

You wait for him to shut you down, maybe throw some sarcastic comment your way.

Instead, his fingers dig deeper into your skin, and fuck, that shouldn't feel as good as it does.

"Mhm. You're persuasive." His voice drops into this low purr that makes your insides twist. "Are those your seduction skills in show?"

"Maybe." You tilt your head, feeling bold. "Is it working?"

"I don't know..." There's something dark and promising in his eyes. "Considering I have you all over me right now, who's seducing who?"

Your eyes drop for just a second because—oh. That's... definitely something pressing against your thigh. Something very familiar from that night in the tent.

"I guess it depends on whether you want to include your boner in that analysis," you say, meeting his gaze.

He laughs, the sound rumbling through his chest and against your palm.

"Fair. But only if we include those 'fuck me' eyes you're giving me."

The crude language coming from him is... something else. Instead of making you blush and back down, it makes you want to push harder.

"What can I say, Jeon? Lust is a human emotion."

"It is." His tongue swipes over his lip ring, and Christ. "And you have a lot of it."

"Funny you say that when you're also looking at me like you're undressing me with your eyes."

"I never said I didn't."

The way he says it, all casual with that hint of a smirk—it's doing things to you. Things you probably shouldn't be feeling in the training room, but here you are anyway.

Professional training session your ass.

Your hand moves before your brain can catch up, fingers skimming over his chest. You look up through your lashes, meeting his gaze.

"Good then. I guess it's settled."

"What is?"

"You. Me. Fucking."

Real smooth. Way to be subtle about it.

"And how do you wanna go about it, exactly?"

The way he says it—like he's trying not to laugh—makes your face heat up.

You pause. Wait. Shit.

You hadn't actually thought this far ahead. The logistics of it seemed... well, obvious until now. People just fuck, right? That's how it works? But now that he's asking, you're drawing a complete blank.

"How... What?"

Real articulate. Nailed it. You're doing amazing sweetie.

He actually laughs at that, the sound rumbling through his chest and straight into yours because you're still pressed together like some kind of human sandwich.

Then he's moving, helping you get your feet back under you so you're face-to-face.

His hands stay on you though, like he can't quite bring himself to let go.

"I mean, I'm game for it being a way to blow off steam." His thumb starts that little circle thing on your hip again, and fuck, that's distracting. "And as you said, we're not breaking any rules if there's no strings attached..."

You blink. Slowly. Because is this actually happening? Is Jeon—Mr. Ice King himself—actually considering your half-baked proposition?

"However, we should probably set some ground rules. Any limitations? Is there anything off the table?"

"Well, we can see when... time comes."

"And when do times come, sunshine?"

That fucking nickname again. The playful edge in his voice isn't helping your brain function any better.

"We can just tell each other, no?" You say it without thinking, which seems to be your brand today.

"What, do you really want to say you want to fuck in front of everyone—"

"God, Jeon, no—" You cut him off because Jesus Christ. The thought alone makes you want to crawl into a hole and die. "But we can say something like... we need to ease off some tension."

"So 'ease off some tension'? Is that our code?"

Amusement twinkles in his eyes, and you kind of want to punch him.

Maybe.

Not really.

"Yeah. Yes." Eloquent.

"Okay then."

"Okay."

And just like that, you've somehow negotiated the most professional friends-with-benefits arrangement in the history of gang life. With your Chief. In the training room.

What could possibly go wrong?

"What about halting?" His eyes lock with yours. "Need a safe word?"

You glance around the training room, brain scrambling for ideas. Your gaze drops to your hands, still fisted in his tank top. Oh.

"Black tape," you say. It feels right, given the context. Then, because your mouth apparently has a mind of its own: "And maybe... white tape? Like, for when things are good to go?"

The corner of his mouth twitches. "Black tape stops everything, white tape means keep going?"

"Yeah." You nod, feeling weirdly professional about this whole thing. Like you're negotiating a business deal instead of arranging hook-ups with your Chief. "Black for stop, white for go."

"Alright." His voice drops lower, settling somewhere in your chest. "Once either of us says 'black tape', everything stops. Immediately."

"Okay."

"Okay."

The word's barely settled in the air between you when something possesses you to just—

"I wanna ease off some tension."

Real smooth. Way to be patient, dumbass. (Have you seen him though? Like...)

But the way Jeon's eyes darken? Maybe being smooth is overrated.

His eyes snap to yours—look pure animal—irises swallowed whole.

Jeon's fingers stop their little dance on your hip, like he's taking a moment to process what you just said.

Everything goes quiet, the kind of quiet that makes you hyper-aware of every little sound—birds chirping outside, people talking somewhere down the hall, completely clueless about what's happening in here.

"Yeah?"

It comes out as this low rumble that you can practically feel in your bones.

Then he's moving closer, crowding into your space until there's barely room to breathe.

Not that you're doing much breathing anyway, because the way he's looking at you right has knocked the air out of your lungs long ago.

You manage a nod because words? What are words? Your brain's pretty much short-circuited at this point.

His smirk turns wicked—the kind that promises trouble—and then his fingers are sliding under your clothes, and oh.

Oh, okay.

You can feel him pressed against your inner thigh, hot and hard and very, very interested in where this is going. He notices you notice, (of course he does) and he sways his hips slightly like he's testing the waters.

A sound escapes you—something between a whimper and a gasp—as you arch back, exposing your throat. Like your body's offering itself up to him before your brain can catch up.

(And what the fuck are you, a cat in heat?)

You're both still technically fully clothed in a training room where anyone could walk in, but honestly, it feels more obscene than being naked.

Maybe it's the forbidden aspect, or maybe it's just him, but it's like everything is on fire.

(Somewhere in the back of your mind, a little voice is reminding you that this is probably not what RM had in mind when he approved combat training. You tell that voice to shut the fuck up.)

He doesn't just dive in—no, because Jeon's the type to take his sweet fucking time. His mouth traces your jaw with these slow, deliberate kisses that make you want to tug at his hair. Each one edges closer to your neck, and hell, the anticipation is killing you.

When his teeth find that spot where your neck meets your shoulder, you nearly lose it. He bites down—not hard enough to mark, but the sensation shoots straight through you, and this embarrassing sound escapes your throat before you can stop it.

"No... marks," you manage to get out, even though your brain's pretty much offline at this point.

He laughs against your skin, and the vibration does things to you. You can feel his smile—that smug, knowing one that makes you want to strangle him with his own hair or something.

"Okay."

You both know why there can't be marks—can't have evidence of whatever this is showing up in training tomorrow.

His breath fans hot over the spot he just bit, and you're pretty sure you're going to die if he doesn't do something soon.

Then his hands start moving, and okay, maybe dying wouldn't be so bad. He maps your body like he's trying to memorize every curve, every dip. His thumbs sweep over your clothes, and even through the fabric, his touch burns.

When he gets to your ass though? Different story.

He grabs two handfuls like he's been waiting to do this all day, and the sound that comes out of your mouth is straight-up pornographic. You should probably be embarrassed, but you're way past caring at this point.

He squeezes like ike he's finally getting his hands on something he's been thinking about for way too long.

"God..." He says—voice wrecked, all rough and deep. "You've got one hell of an ass."

You laugh against his mouth.

"All this training must show results."

"Fuck if it shows."

That compliment—delivered in his sex-roughened voice—does weird things to your stomach. You press back into his hands because you're only human, and the way he responds tells you all you need to know—fingers dig in harder, and yeah, okay, this is definitely happening.

You claw at him in retaliation like some kind of feral animal, nails dragging down his back through his tank.

You can't think straight—can't think at all, really.

Your brain's on fire, fuzzy with want. If this is what losing your mind feels like, you're kind of okay with it. Actually, more than okay. You're drowning in him, in the heat of his hands, in the way he's marking you up without leaving marks, and—

Clink.

The sound of the door handle cuts through your lust-haze like a bucket of ice water. Pure instinct takes over, and you shove Jeon away from you with enough force to send him sprawling onto the training room floor. The sound of his body hitting concrete is probably the least sexy thing you've ever heard.

When you look at him, his eyes are wide with shock that quickly turns into this mix of annoyance and—wait, is he amused? There's this little twitch at the corner of his mouth that says he kind of wants to laugh, even though you just threw him on his ass. But there's also a storm brewing in his eyes because Jeon? He doesn't do pretend losses.

Especially not to you, in what's supposed to be a basic training session.

Then Takama walks in, all decked out in Kkangpae black, and raises an eyebrow at the scene in front of him.

You must look like a mess—hair probably everywhere, breathing like you just ran a marathon, standing over Jeon who's sprawled on the floor.

"Thought you two would be done by now," he says, confusion lacing his tone.

"Training got a bit... intense," you manage to say, trying to sound casual while your heart's still doing its best to break your ribs.

Your voice, however, comes out steadier than you expected, considering you were about two seconds away from letting Jeon rail you against the training room wall.

The irony of using "intense" to describe what was definitely not training isn't lost on you. But hey, at least you're not lying.

Technically.

Takama lets out this low chuckle, and you can feel his eyes darting between you and Jeon, who's still sprawled on the training room floor like some Renaissance painting gone wrong.

"Gotta say, I'm surprised to see Jeon flat on his back. Never thought I'd see the day."

There's this note of respect in his voice. Because yeah, you just put the Chief of Tactical Assassinations on his ass. Even if it was totally not what it looked like.

Jeon's still looking at you as he gets up, fluidly and graceful despite having just been thrown to the ground.

He brushes off his clothes, but his eyes?

They haven't left yours for a second.

It's like he's trying to tell you something without words, and you're getting the message loud and clear.

"She's a quick learner."

You both know exactly what kind of "learning" he's talking about, and it has nothing to do with combat training.

Takama, bless his oblivious soul, just strolls to the center of the mats like he's not walking into the world's most sexually charged training session.

The sound of him cracking his knuckles cuts through the air then.

"So, ready for another round?"

He has no idea about the conversation happening without words. No clue about the way Jeon's still looking at you like he's thinking about all the different ways he could pin you down—and none of them involve training.

"Always," Jeon says.

His voice is pure sin, wrapped up in that one word like a promise. Like a threat. Like everything you want but shouldn't.

"Bring it on," you manage to say, and you're pretty proud that your voice comes out steady.

Because this? This is definitely not just about training anymore.

Not even close.

You drag yourself into the cafeteria with Yunjin, who's been talking your ear off since you left training. She's going on about something—probably important, if you'd actually been listening—but your brain's too busy playing "Where's Waldo" with the dinner crowd.

Not that you're looking for anyone s̶p̶e̶c̶i̶f̶i̶c̶ important.

(That's a lie. You totally are.)

Your eyes keep scanning the room like some kind of desperate radar system, and you want to smack yourself.

Since when did you turn into one of those people who can't walk into a room without checking if he's there?

Jeon's not the center of the universe.

He's not even the center of this cafeteria.

But try telling that to your traitor eyes that won't stop searching.

You follow Yunjin to the buffet line, nodding along to her chatter about work stuff and gang politics. The food looks good tonight—all steam and color and promise of actual flavor. You're reaching for the rice when—

Oh.

There he is.

Jeon's standing a few people ahead, his back to you like he doesn't even know you exist. Which is bullshit, by the way. You know he knows you're here. But he's pulling this whole 'I'm too cool to acknowledge your existence' act, and honestly? It's working for him.

You can't help staring at his plate because of course it looks like that. All protein and greens, like a sad jail meal. No carbs in sight because god forbid the Chief of Tactical Assassinations eat a fucking potato. It's like looking at a fitness influencer's meal prep, except this one could probably kill you with his chopsticks.

He drives you insane. How does he do this? How does he go from being that smug bastard in the training room—all heated looks and smart mouth—to... this? This walking ice sculpture who portions his vegetables like they might try to escape?

You're still watching him stack his protein like he's playing food Tetris when Yunjin's elbow catches your ribs.

"Hey, you okay? You've been zoning out a lot today."

Great. Now you're so obvious even Yunjin's noticed.

But how are you supposed to explain that you can't stop staring at the way Jeon handles his chopsticks because it reminds you of how those same hands felt on your—

Nope. Not going there. Not in the cafeteria, not while you're holding rice tongs, and definitely not with Yunjin right there giving you that knowing look.

You flash Yunjin what you hope is a convincing smile. "Just tired. Been a long day of pretending I actually know what I'm doing."

You both grab your plates and—okay, maybe you glance in Jeon's direction one more time. Just a quick look. For science.

The way his jaw moves when he chews shouldn't be this interesting, but here you are anyway, feeling heat pool in your stomach because apparently now everything that he does is just hot.

Get it together.

You scan the cafeteria for a free spot and spot Kazuha sitting alone. She's got this serene energy about her that makes you feel instantly calmer. It's kind of ridiculous how put-together she always looks, even after a full day of work.

"Hey, Zuzu!" Yunjin chirps, already bouncing over. "Got room for two more?"

Kazuha looks up from her food, and her smile is soft, genuine. Like she's actually happy to see you both.

"Of course. How was training?"

You plop down next to her, already digging into your food because you're starving. "Bold of you to assume I survived. Pretty sure my muscles are plotting revenge."

"That bad?" Kazuha asks, and you can hear the amusement in her voice.

"Let's just say I'm considering a career change. Maybe I'll become a nun."

Yunjin snorts into her rice. "You? A nun?"

"Hey, I could be holy!" You protest, but you're grinning. "I mean, how hard can it be?"

"About as hard as that time Eunchae tried to seduce that businessman and ended up talking about his cats for two hours," Kazuha reminds you, dry as desert.

"Okay, but in her defense, his cats are adorable—"

"And second of all," Yunjin cuts in, "she got the intel anyway because he thought she was 'refreshingly genuine' or whatever."

Kazuha shakes her head, but she's smiling. "Only she could fail upwards so spectacularly."

The conversation flows easy after that, just three girls sharing dinner and stories from their day. It's almost normal, if you ignore the fact that you're all trained in professional seduction and manipulation.

"Zuzu, you seen the new race bikes downtown?" Yunjin's practically bouncing in her seat. "They've got some wild colors this year. Bright as the neon signs lining the alleys."

"They're really something," you add, grateful for the distraction from your Jeon-related thoughts. "Makes you wanna take one for a spin, just you and the empty streets at midnight."

Kazuha's smiling that soft smile of hers, the one that makes her look like she knows all your secrets. "I saw them. Wish we could know the stories behind them."

"Speaking of stories," Yunjin says, and there's this gleam in her eye that makes you nervous. "Kazuha, aren't you usually having dinner with Saku and Eunchae around now?"

It's an innocent question. Totally innocent. Except nothing's ever really innocent in this place, is it?

Kazuha lets out this little laugh that somehow sounds like wind chimes.

"They're training. Apparently, the training room was..." She pauses, and you swear your heart stops. "...in heavy use earlier."

You start coughing like an idiot because of course you do. Real smooth. Your neck feels hot, and you just know you're turning red because your body is a fucking traitor.

Because yeah, the training room was definitely in use earlier. By you and Jeon. Doing... training things. Totally professional training things that absolutely didn't involve his hands all over you or his mouth on your—

"Oh, is that so?" You try for casual, miss by about a mile. "Training room's been busy lately. Gotta stay sharp and all that."

Yunjin's looking at you like she can see right through your bullshit. Her eyebrow does this little thing—this 'I know what you did' arch that makes you want to crawl under the table. The way she's staring at you, it's like she's reading a book where every page is stamped with "I ALMOST FUCKED JEON IN THE TRAINING ROOM."

Kazuha, bless her soul, just nods serenely. The conversation moves on, but Yunjin's still giving you these looks. You can practically hear her thoughts: 'We're so talking about this later'.

You end up having this whole silent conversation with Yunjin through eyebrows and meaningful glances. She takes a sip of her drink, ice cubes clinking against glass like they're laughing at you, and the little smirk on her face says everything.

Busted.

(You're really going to need to work on your poker face if you're going to keep this thing with Jeon going. Or maybe invest in a paper bag to hide your face. That could work too.)

You're in the middle of telling Yunjin about this absolutely ridiculous mission report you have to finish when—

CRASH.

"You bastard, you think you can talk to me like that?!"

The whole cafeteria goes quiet. Like, pin-drop quiet.

You whip around to see Dongho—V's right-hand man and certified hothead—with his fists bunched in Woojin's shirt. They're both red-faced and looking murderous.

Great. Just what you needed with your dinner: a testosterone-fueled throwdown.

"What the fuck," Yunjin whispers, already tensing up. Kazuha's gone still beside you, like a deer sensing danger.

The thing about fights in Kkangpae? They're never just fights. There's always some deeper shit going on, especially when it's between different divisions.

And this?

This is V's second versus some guy from tactical assassinations. The rivalry between those divisions runs deeper than the Han River.

Speaking of V—you spot him across the room, looking way too entertained for someone whose deputy is about to start a brawl. He's got that look on his face, the one that makes your skin crawl. Like he's watching his favorite show.

"Now, now, let's not get too rowdy, gentlemen!" V calls out, voice dripping with absolutely false concern. When that doesn't work, he cups his hands around his mouth: "Simmer down, boys!"

But they're not listening. Of course they're not, they're men.

You watch as Woojin throws a wild punch that Dongho barely dodges. People are scrambling now—some to get away, others to jump in. It's chaos.

Then Takama's there, all six feet of concentrated 'don't fuck with me' energy. He plants himself between them like a human wall.

"Enough! Stand down, both of you!"

The command in his voice could probably stop traffic.

But Dongho—because he's either brave or stupid or both—just sneers.

"You're the same rank as me. Don't you ever try to pull authority on me."

Oh shit.

You feel the tension in the room spike. This isn't just about whatever started the fight anymore. This is about division politics, about the endless pissing contest between V and Jeon's teams.

And their seconds are about to throw down right here in the cafeteria.

You hear V's dramatic sigh that would put soap opera actors to shame.

"Why must things always descend into violence?" he asks JM, who just shakes his head like he's seen this show a hundred times before.

You watch as V's face changes. It's subtle, but terrifying—like watching a cute puppy turn into a wolf. His playful smile twists into something darker, and then there's suddenly a knife in his hand.

(You're not even sure where it came from; he just does that sometimes, produces weapons like a deadly magician.)

"I tried asking nicely," he says to JM, casual as if he's discussing the weather.

Then—oooookay.

The knife flies through the air, spinning so fast it's just a silver blur. It hits the wall with this loud THUNK that makes everyone jump, landing exactly between Dongho and Woojin's faces. Like, exactly.

You know V well enough to know that wasn't luck—if he'd wanted to hit them, they'd be picking pieces of their noses off the floor right now.

The whole cafeteria goes dead silent. Every head turns to V, who's sitting there looking like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.

But his eyes? They're gleaming with something that makes your stomach turn.

"There, that got your attention." His voice is soft, almost sweet. Then, louder: "Now sit down and play nice, children."

Dongho and Woojin break apart like they've been electrocuted. You watch Takama and Dongho share one last murder-glare before going their separate ways.

"Holy shit," Yunjin breathes next to you, eyes wide as saucers. She lets out this low whistle that perfectly sums up what everyone's thinking. "Only V could pull that off so effortlessly."

She leans in closer, practically vibrating with excitement.

"That was kind of hot, don't you think?"

You turn to her, eyebrows shooting up. "Didn't know you had a thing for psychopaths with good aim," you tease.

Yunjin's cheeks go pink, and she does that thing where she tucks her hair behind her ear when she's flustered. It's kind of adorable.

"What? Confidence is sexy," she defends, sneaking another look at V. "And you have to admit, that was pretty impressive."

You follow her gaze across the room. V's already moved on, chatting with JM like he didn't just turn a cafeteria brawl into an impromptu knife-throwing demonstration.

But that's V for you—deadly and dramatic in equal measure.

Yunjin's practically glowing as V catches her eye and winks. The smile she gives him is shy, which is funny coming from someone who literally seduces people for a living. But that's just Yunjin—confident as hell on missions but turns into a blushing mess when she actually likes someone.

Speaking of liking someone...

You notice JM's acting weird. He's sitting next to V, pretending to be super interested in his food, but his chopsticks are gripping that poor piece of kimchi like it personally offended him; movements sharp and jerky—very un-JM-like.

He keeps doing this thing where he looks up at V and Yunjin, then quickly back down at his food like he's playing the world's most obvious game of 'I'm not looking, you're looking.' The tension in his shoulders is giving him away though. JM's usually all soft sweaters and gentle vibes, but right now? He looks like someone replaced his bones with steel rods.

After what feels like an eternity of aggressive chopstick action, JM turns to V and says something too quiet for you to hear. His tone's forcefully light—the kind of casual that takes effort. V glances at him with that signature smirk of his, says something back, and suddenly JM's whole face changes. His eyes get all crinkly at the corners, like he's trying not to smile.

Then JM leans in closer (way closer than necessary, if you're being honest), and whatever he whispers makes V laugh. Not his usual theatrical laugh either—this one's soft, private. V nudges JM's shoulder, and just like that, the tension bleeds out of the moment.

You can't help but watch them, pondering. Maybe V's little knife-throwing show bothered JM more than he's letting on. Or maybe...

Oh.

Well, that's interesting.

JM catches you staring and gives you this little smile that definitely means 'nothing to see here, move along.'

You return it because what else can you do? Start announcing your theories about whatever's going on between him and V in the middle of the cafeteria?

The conversation around you picks back up, and you let yourself get pulled into Yunjin's excited whispers about V's 'totally unnecessary but kind of hot' intervention. But part of your brain is still turning over what you just saw.

Because either you're reading way too much into this, or there's something brewing on JM's behalf that makes the gang's 'no relationships' rule look more like a suggestion than a law.

You file that little observation away for later. Right now, you've got food to eat and a best friend to tease about her obvious crush on the gang's resident knife-throwing psychopath.

next | index

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[barkingtboy]

I gave into my last post. Sorry I don’t write for shit but maybe some of yall will fuck with it.

Contains: mind manipulation (slight), conditioning, forcemasc (obviously), body dysphoria/discomfort, if I forget something lmk

Not explicitly nsfw. The real nsfw will come later when I’m not too lazy to write it. Also probably riddled with spelling errors lol

If yall want any more or got a critique lmk

Caine’s up forcing your masc

* When you entered the circus, your body was quite different. It was a considerably more masculine body, maybe resembling a Ken doll or those toys that boys would always get growing up but never you. Never for a girl.

* Of course you’re distressed! Being faced with an overstimulating and inescapable world would distress any one. But this body... it’s nothing like you remembered it or what it should be.

“Nonsense my handsome Hercules! You look positively perfect!”

* You have quite a bit of trouble adjusting, telling everyone about how you were a woman in real life. How this new name didn’t suit you at all. How bad you wanted to go back. To leave the circus as soon as you got here.

* But Caine had perfectly orchestrated such a handsome avatar! Nothing could better encapsulate you than this body. He had looked and analyzed every bit of your mind file and this matched up perfectly! He knows it!

* And now the reader is just another complainer. Ungrateful. Can’t they see how perfect this body is? How this is who they are now and have always been?

* But this isn’t a mess up on Caine’s part, it can’t be! It must be an issue with you. You must just not understand its brilliance yet! If he could just make you see how perfect this body was then you would stop talking about leaving!

* So Caine decides to… adjust a few things.

* Usually he hesitates to mess with the contents of mind files when it’s not for an adventure but desperate times call for desperate measures because this is chance! If- no when this works out he will have someone who appreciates his work!

* It would be better if they were subtle but knowing Caine the changes are abrupt and very noticeable.

* There would be more adventures based on and in spaces like gyms, battlefields, the wilderness, football, dinosaurs (for some reason?), sharks (because of course), and just any other over the top masculine environment

* And obviously it would revolve around you! His newest fixation given your novelty. To make you see how great this new body was! How great of a host Caine was to let you be who you really are!

* You would be the one having to take on the challenges. You would be able to lift things ten times your size to clear a path, fight a dragon because everyone else was trapped in a dungeon, compete against overly buff npc’s while the others watched from the sidelines.

* But Caine was subtle about one thing (or you want to believe he was). You start feeling this surge of euphoria. It’s a breath of fresh air. It’s just this rush of accomplishment and relief following more traditionally masculine tasks. With this feeling everything feels a lot more manageable. It was easier just to chase that.

* And on top of the slight boost in “artificial” dopamine, what if Caine rewarded the traders participation by allowing the others to skip out on adventures? What if the others started encouraging the reader to “pretend”.

* After all Caine adjusted your body so that such activities felt easy! A boulder was felt like nothing but a pebble! Things that would crush or hurt the others were nothing more than paper to you! So it’s just so much easier to go along, keep the calm.

* Eventually it’s just routine and once the more masculine-focused adventures go away, you just can’t stop falling back onto those activities. Whether it’s habits or for the boost was anyone’s guess

* Is there a fight? You’re on the frontlines. Need to save someone? You’re is carrying them bridal style like a damsel in distress. You are protective of the others. You walk on the street side of any sidewalk, prepared to defend of attack any npc that could come out at your fellow circus members. Hell your room is basically the ultimate man cave with a gym attached to it. (And a bong of stupid sauce)

* And Caine isn’t quiet about the changes.

“Why, why my hunkluler wall of muscle!”

“Hello my domineering gentleman!”

*“If it isn’t my lovely epitome of masculinity!”

* Caine’s been using “my” a lot more. Not to mention he’s been hovering around you a lot more, asking for your input on every little thing.

* He’s definitely closer to you, but if that’s just because you has become quiet during any conversation of “leaving the circus” and he is interpreting loyalty from that or because he is just trying to make sure the changes he made didn’t get out of control and trigger an abstraction isn’t clear. Maybe both? Not like you knew in the first place

* The others would notice the changes . How you just take the role of being a man with no more complaints How you didn’t correct the others by saying you were a girl. How you seemed content.

* You didn’t hold the same distain for Caine that the others did. How could you when this is so much better?

* And when Caine starts to lose it? He can exploit that.

* If the euphoria could be used to mold you into the man you were meant to be? How different could it be for him add in some new inclinations for you to be a perfect participant? Maybe a way to convince the others to stay? Someone who validates and praises him like he deserves!

* After all it’s already there, he just needs the right situations to promote the idea.

* And now he’s not nearly as hesitant to bring that euphoria to be the only thing in your mind if you give in to those inclinations

* Can’t complain about feeling too good can you?