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venusjeon · 7 months

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angel in the marble

after you fail to pickpocket him, the famous yet arrogant artist Jeon Jungkook takes you off the streets to make you his servant, and the more you know him, the more you realise he's not as detestable as everyone claims he is.

♔ PAIRING: michelangelo!jungkook x servant!reader

♔ GENRE: high renaissance au, angst, smut, humour

♔ WORD COUNT: 8k

♔ WARNINGS: homelessness, stealing, mild swearing/violence/drinking, 90% of this is bickering lmao, mentions of minor characters' death, jealousy and kinda possessiveness?, referenced unconsensual groping (not by jk), a bit of blasphemy, making out, groping, fingering, rough angry sexxx, choking, slapping

♔ AUTHOR'S NOTE: fun fact this is mostly historically accurate! jk's characterisation, the grocery list doodles, the sack of rome, the beef with his brother, the encounter with his rival (raphael)... are all taken from michelangelo's actual life, even some stuff is quoted from his letters lol. man was fanfic material.

1529, Rome

“How much for that one?”

“No, that one’s sold already.”

It was a lively morning. After days of heavy rainfall, those of high social class were eager to get out and meet under the gentle sun of spring, whose glare reflected on the precious stones of their jewellery; while those of low, out of necessity, couldn’t wait to reopen their businesses or set up their stalls and get back to work. You liked to eye them all as you strolled the streets of Rome.

“To whom?”

“Your friend Taehyung.”

“Agh… How much is that prick paying you?”

The point of the matter was that it was bustling, some colliding if they looked away from where they were going for more than a breath. It worked in your favour for it was then easier to make yourself scarce right after stealing bags of coins, such as those of the three men seemingly bargaining by a workshop’s entrance out of which a large block of marble was being dragged. Perfect.

“Three ducats.”

“Three?! He’s robbing you of two ducats. I’ll pay you the five it’s worth.”

You kept your head low as you approached the pair that seemed wealthier and with those stealthy hands of yours unfastened the bags tied to their belts. After all, pickpocketing was a skill you’d had under your own for some years now, so this was bound to go smoothly.

Because you didn’t realise there was a guardian with them, perhaps you’d grown arrogant.

“I’m sorry, maestro. It’s reserved.”

“But it’ll become a waste in his possession!”

As you slipped away into the crowd, mouth watering at the fresh-baked bread you were going to devour as soon as bought, this brown dog leaped up at you out of nowhere, ignoring your desperate efforts to shake him off. If anything, they caused him to bark.

No, no, no…

The three men turned to the scene playing out not so far, and thinking his dog was bothering you one of them shouted, “Bam, come here, boy!” but as he obediently ran to his owner, you were too slow to hide the bags in your hands. It only took the pair a second to make them out, check whether theirs still hung on their belts, find them not, work out you’d stolen them, look back up, and find you not either.

Of course, you’d made your escape by then, dived into the sea of people and swum through them as quickly as possible, only stopping when you reached an empty vaulted alley to catch your breath.

That was ridiculously close. If you weren’t more careful next–

Your train of thought was interrupted by someone grabbing you by the arm from behind and pushing you against the nearest wall. A grunt accompanied the thud, and a gasp followed at the sight of the two men from before—dog included. Pinned in place, it’d be a bad idea to fight back or attempt to run away again. Fuck’s sake.

“Do you know what happens to thieves?” the one cornering you asked so close that when the cold breeze rustled his hair, some strands grazed your face. You looked away to avoid the tickling rather than out of fear, or so you wanted to believe. “They have a hand cut off. Seems fair, doesn’t it, Jimin?”

By contrast, that Jimin didn’t look intimidating, otherwise still catching his breath from the chase, but he did snatch the coin bags from your hands. “It doesn’t have to be so, maestro. We got our money back. She’s… just a girl.”

“And that exempts her of crime?”

“Please, don’t report me,” you begged, humiliating as though it was.

“Why shouldn’t we?” the maestro scoffed. Maestro… You were being threatened by a damned craftsman, the other one probably his assistant.

“Because I don’t want to lose a hand?”

“Oh, but we wanted to lose money, did we?” You rolled your eyes, and he released his grip only to step away. “Take us to your father, brat. He’ll answer for you.”

It took you a moment to respond, “I don’t have a father, or anyone... Only I can answer for my actions.”

“You’re a beggar?” Jimin asked, taking pity as he studied your appearance for the first time. Dishevelled hair, tattered dress, unpleasant smell… Yes, they should’ve guessed.

“She doesn’t beg, though, does she? She steals.”

“Only from cunts.”

His head snapped to meet your glare, and Jimin laughed, “You seem to not know whom you speak to.” He could be Jesus for all you cared. Uninterested, you petted the dog, Bam, seeing as he’d leapt up at you again. “This is Jeon Jungkook.”

You froze. The Jeon Jungkook? The famous artist who painted and sculpted for the Pope? Whom faraway kings and even emperors commissioned? The one whose genius was said to be changing the world?

At the lack of attention, Bam returned to his master, and that snapped you out of your shock to ask, “Then why do you whine?” The two men frowned, having clearly expected an apology paired with the usual bootlicking. “As if you need that bag more than I!”

“What nerve,” he scoffed again, making you wince by grabbing your arm tighter than before and starting to drag you into the next street. “You’re going straight to the authorities!”

“Wait,” Jimin intervened, thank God. “Weren’t you in need of a servant, maestro?”

“So?”

Jimin pointed at you with his gaze as though it was obvious. “You’re in need of a servant, she’s in need of a roof.”

“I would rather have a hand cut off.”

“I would rather have her hand cut off too.”

Jungkook tried to resume dragging you, but Jimin blocked his way with a soft smile. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N…”

“Do you know how to take care of a household?” Slowly, you nodded, melancholy engulfing you at the memory of cooking or sweeping the floor with your mother once upon a time. Somehow, she always found a way to make chores fun... “Then you qualify for the job. You’ll have three meals a day and a bed to sleep on. And you, maestro, a servant who’ll work her hardest, lest you fire her and she ends up in the streets again.”

Both you and Jungkook reluctantly glanced at each other. Truth be told, you didn’t prefer losing a hand to living with him, you just didn’t like him. Despite being a celebrity, he was a stranger. It just wouldn’t work.

But then, why were you holding your breath, hoping he’d accept?

“We shouldn’t have left Namjoon’s workshop. The marble is about to be delivered,” he said walking away. The air left your lungs in disappointment. It seemed you were to remain a stray cat. Jimin pressed his plump lips apologetically as he gave you enough coins to buy that bread, and you nodded, grateful all the same for his trying. You watched him rush to Jungkook’s side but when this one saw him, he turned around. “Hurry up, brat. If Taehyung gets that block of marble, I’ll not take you in.”

Since the first day, you could attest to Jeon Jungkook’s nature being as rough and uncouth as the rumours claimed, and after living alone with him for two months still believed gossip such as that he’d got the scar on his left cheek in a tavern fight—in which, if you’d chanced to be present, you would’ve rooted for the other individual.

It appeared it wasn’t just others Jungkook was harsh to. However rich his talent had turned him, he behaved like a poor man, consuming food and drink sparingly and out of necessity instead of pleasure, spending only the money required to live decently, sleeping little in order to work on commissions from dawn to midnight…

Why he chose to take little care of himself was a mystery to someone who previously had not been allowed a choice, even if putting work before all was in order to thwart Kim Taehyung’s plans of ruining his career, as he claimed. You doubted his rival was obsessed with him so, but had learned to agree with whatever Jungkook grumbled to avoid disputes. Most times.

Deep down, you had a feeling your boldness amused him. Who else dared get on his nerves?

“I think all you artists fluttering around the Pope are no more than slaves to money,” you let drop once while making his bed. Bam was sleeping peacefully under the window, while Jungkook leaning against the door’s frame behind you, offended to the core. He could help, you thought, or at least loosen my corset a little…

“I, a slave? I’ll be damned… There is an angel inside every block of marble, and I’ll have you know I carve to set it free.”

“Is it the angel that charges the Pope, then, master?” You could feel him barely restraining the urge to throw you out the window, smiled as you finished smoothing out the blankets.

“You missed a wrinkle there.”

Hands on your hips and frown on your brows, you examined the neatly arranged coverings of his bed. “Where?”

“On your face,” he muttered before making his leave.

Not his finest jibe, but the metaphor did stay with you. An angel inside the marble… It perhaps applied to Jungkook himself, though you’d never tell him.

One instance it came to mind was recently, when his assistants and apprentices were invited over for dinner.

Usually, he’d tell you which meals he liked and you’d ask at the marketplace which ingredients to buy, but now that about ten meals were to be cooked a list was needed. So there he sat on his desk in his study, inking said list as you waited in front of him, fiddling with the undershirt that peeked out of your dress’ sleeves. Given that your eyes were fixed on it, you only learned Jungkook was done when the sound of his quill scratching the paper ceased.

“Be back no later than dusk,” he ordered, “I bet there are still Germans and Spaniards lurking about.”

A year had passed since the Sack of Rome, but the mention of it sent a shiver of fear down your spine. Whatever the political reasons for it, you hated everyone involved, for Hell itself would’ve been a more beautiful sight to behold those nine months when the Tiber’s waters remained painted red…

You were lucky to make it through. Your family wasn’t.

“Yes, master.”

“Here,” he said handing you the paper, then picked another letter from a pile of correspondence he’d been going through before your arrival. Jungkook was about to snap its wax seal when he looked up to realise you hadn’t moved an inch. “Why are you here? Away with you!” He saw the reason in the way you avoided eye contact. “You can’t read, can you?” Met with a silence charged with embarrassment, he leaned back in his chair and sighed, “Give me the list.”

Getting hold of the quill again, Jungkook began… doodling?

You tilted your head but couldn’t see well what he was drawing until he finished and returned the list to you. Then, your lips parted. Each item on the list was illustrated next to its name: ten loaves of bread, a jug of wine, tortellini, four anchovies, two fennel soups…

“I’ll teach you to read when I have time. This will do for now.”

“You’d do that?” For me?

Jungkook ignored you, before he went back to reading his letters complimenting the good gesture with an irritated, “Hurry up.”

That night his co-workers arrived one by one, Jimin the first. The sight of him when you opened the door brightened up your mood.

Unlike a certain someone he was always sweet to you, genuinely interested to know how you fared even if you were just a servant. He claimed that mattered not to him, that you were both commoners and thus equals.

“Look at this place, it’s spotless! And you know I’m furtive, so I won’t get in your way,” you told Jimin as you escorted him through a hallway, bright from the torches hung on the walls that you’d lit up earlier.

He laughed, “I cannot make you my servant, Y/N, you’re maestro’s.”

“But he’s going to drive me mad… To tell you one of many examples, he often falls asleep in his clothes, and who but I is to take his boots off so they don’t get the sheets dirty? If the chalk on his fingers or the dust from the chiseling on his hair won’t already. Bam is far cleaner…”

Jungkook had a workshop he barely set foot in, preferred his team made use of it instead to not be bothered by their idiocy. His words. So it was in a chamber on the ground floor of this house he gave way to artistic insanity. In your book, that meant constant cleaning.

Jimin looked at you fondly. “Sounds nightmarish.”

“It truly is!”

As soon as the two of you entered the dining hall, Bam ran from Jungkook’s side by the fireplace to Jimin, who was as excited to see him.

“Good night, maes–”

“Do you think I’m deaf, ungrateful brat?” Jungkook interrupted him to bark at you. “Rome is full of people begging to get a piece of me, so if you don’t like it here, I’ll just get someone else!”

“You say that and yet keep me like a prisoner!”

“As if you don’t have it better here than anywhere you’ve burdened with your presence before!”

“There, there…” Jimin interjected to de-escalate, kneeling to better stroke Bam. “Maestro, I’ve seen your latest sketch of the Virgin and Child. She resembles Y/N.”

Both you and Jungkook failed to fight off the embarrassment, gazes unable to find a place to settle. Sitting down on the large table, he explained, “It was just one time… I had used Yoongi as a model, but the Madonna looked too masculine... and rather than going through the trouble of finding some girl and hiring her, I had Y/N pose for me… So what! Why bring it up out of nowhere…”

“Because maybe you just need a bit of distance from time to time. With permission, I too would have Y/N pose for m–”

“Absolutely not.”

“Now, why the hell not?” you groaned stamping your foot, startling poor Bam. Hope had been born inside you in a second and cruelly crushed in the next.

“Because I say so. And watch your tone with me.” As usual, the mutual glaring would trick anyone into thinking the next step would be murder. Jimin, who knelt there awkwardly, certainly thought so, at least until the bell rang. “Now go answer the door!”

What happened later, though, rendered the fury Jungkook had evoked in your heart nonexistent and instead seized the thing in a clasp of distress.

In the morning, he walked in when you were sweeping the kitchen. At once you forced the sobs to stop and turned around so he wouldn’t see you wipe your tears.

“It’s past nine, where’s breakfast?” he asked in shock that you hadn’t even started making it, the table there empty.

You swore under your breath before leaving the broomstick leaning against the nearest wall, flushed face kept out of Jungkook’s sight, then in a haste fetched a plate, a knife, and a leftover bread loaf. “Apologies, master, I forgot. I’ll be upstairs in a minute.”

Sniffling betrayed you, at which Jungkook frowned. “Are you crying?”

Great, the question just about especially designed to make one well up. Not trusting your voice anymore, you shook your head. Jungkook approached, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look away from the task at hand, now cutting a few slices of the bread.

“Have you broken something?” You shook your head again, the suppressed sobs making your chin tremble. Jungkook took a deep breath before asking with a surprisingly soothing tone, “Then what’s wrong?”

“You won’t believe me.”

“Try me.”

Within an hour, he’d summoned a meeting consisting of all who’d attended dinner the previous night.

A seemingly calm Jungkook was sat at the head of the table, elbows sunk on it and fingers interlocked. You stood behind him, head still low out of shame. A tense silence had fallen in the chamber some time ago, and sick of it, Jimin shattered it.

“Have you anything to tell us, maestro?”

“I was waiting for Biagio to do so.”

The man was one of Jungkook’s favourite assistants who had worked with him for years, even longer than Jimin. And if it was possible for your position to be trickier, he belonged to some noble family.

“Me? But I’ve nothing to say, maestro.”

Jungkook leaned back in his chair. “My servant will, then. Y/N?”

Bastard. If you are going to fire me, why make me go through this?

“Last night, w-when I left this hall to go refill the wine jug… Messer Biagio followed me into the kitchen, and… h-he trapped me from behind, and started t-to touch me…” Your vision soon blurred, hence why you couldn’t see clearly how concerned Jimin was for you, or how Biagio jumped up in outrage. “I managed to push him away, and ran upst–”

“How dare you slander me, wench? Maestro, you do not believe this!”

“Do I not?”

“She’s lying! I caught her stealing sketches from your study, likely to sell them, so she’s trying to get rid of me!”

You almost scoffed. Only an idiot would choose the one occasion guests had come over and her absence would be noticed to carry out a theft.

Jungkook tilted his head. “I thought you had nothing to say. Why would you keep such a thing just now?”

Biagio gulped. “I deemed it best to mention it later, in private... You won’t believe a pickpocket before an old friend, will you?”

Silence returned, your breath still as you saw all the assistants and apprentices visibly take pity on him. The only one who didn’t was Jimin, but even on his face there was a hint of hesitation. Jungkook’s, you couldn’t see from behind, but after an eternity he stood up and walked over only to put a hand on the shoulder of Biagio, who smiled in relief.

A quiet sob broke through your lips, heart sinking. You’d needed Jungkook to believe you in this. Not because of the consequences his protection as your master could save you from, but because, like it or not… he was the closest thing to family you had.

It turned out he did believe you, judging by the punch landed on Biagio’s jaw out of nowhere. And the next one on his cheekbone, and on his nose. Before everyone around the table had barely stood up to stop Jungkook, he’d already thrown Biagio down and straddled him, pulling his doublet’s collar in a close, tight grip as he continued beating him up. Blood was drawn, but for once, you didn’t mind having to scrub it later.

Jungkook’s influence trumped a whole noble house’s, you learned in the course of the months Biagio tried his mightiest and failed most miserably to have him arrested. Perhaps because of the Pope sitting on his shoulder.

That he’d taken your side was still hard to believe, all he’d grumbled with a shrug when you thanked him while tending to his wounds from the fight being, “I’d been waiting for the chance. I always thought Biagio was a weasel.”

With the matter resolved, life returned to normal—well, whatever that meant in Jeon Jungkook’s household. Because calling for you at the top of his lungs like a madman was not normal. The first time he’d done it you’d raced downstairs, afraid something horrible had happened, only for him to have you close a window as it was getting chilly. Devil rot him. You rushed no longer after that, much to his complaints.

Today, he didn’t notice right away when you appeared under the cased opening, and good thing he didn’t, for he was polishing a bust with sandpaper… shirtless.

Product of hours carving stone into his desired shape or occasionally beating someone up, he could brag of having muscles, which the current task had covered in a layer of sweat and dust. The way they flexed with each movement had you compelled, wanting to reach out, feel if his skin was as hot as the blood pumping through your veins faster and faster. Then your gaze moved to the bust and whatever spell you were under broke.

Hardly an angel was that widowed noblewoman, whom you wished had stayed trapped inside a block of marble. Her name was Madonna Maddalena, and she’d come some weeks past to make a commission covered in pearls, gold, and boldness.

“My friends refused to accompany me today. You’re said to be… disagreeable, which I’m sure is untrue. However, all of them do want to know if you’re as fine-looking as is also rumoured, maestro” she told Jungkook within minutes of meeting him, still by the entrance!

Now you can tell them he’s not, you bit your tongue before it remarked, as this wasn’t Jimin but a patron not to be scared away by your bickering. It wouldn’t be true anyway. All your master lacked in manners, he made up for with looks… Which you’d never say out loud. You’d never say either that he looked even better when irked.

“I’ve heard many rumours about myself, most of them nonsense. My appearance was involved in none.”

She smiled seductively. “I suppose I’ll have to be the one to spread them.”

“The weather is pleasant today,” Jungkook changed the subject, flustered beneath the formal demeanour. “Shall we have wine in the garden?” You left to prepare it not before catching Maddalena raise her brow at you in disapproval. She must’ve been able to tell you thought she was a pompous cunt.

The beautiful flowers you cared for tried their best outside, but the air didn’t get any better.

Sat around a small table, Maddalena explained she wanted a bust of herself by his talented hand to decorate the main hall of her palazzo. You served them wine, not really listening until Jungkook started playing hard to get. The hundred times you’d told him it wasn’t a good tactic to make his labour out to be too prestigious had apparently fallen on deaf ears.

“Any other artist could carry this out, Madonna. I am working for the Pope these days…” he subtly scolded her, a mere mortal, for wasting his precious time. And he wondered why he had a reputation for being arrogant.

Maddalena put his thoughts into plain words, “So why should you stoop to taking commissions from an insignificant widow?”

“Correct,” you said under your breath, luckily heard by none from the background, where you stood holding a wine jug until the madonna raised her cup and you approached to refill it.

“It is then fortunate I’m to marry a nephew of the Pope’s.”

Swayed by her future influence, Jungkook smiled back. “So it is.”

“But not for another week. ‘Till then, I belong to no man.” The suggestion in her tone almost drove you to spill wine all over her. No, better yet: order Bam to sic on her. He’d do it.

Just, who did this woman think she was? And why did Jungkook not kick her out right afterwards? It made you wonder whether he’d enjoyed the flirtation. Whether he would’ve been the one to take things further had his inconvenient servant not been present. It was common for men to have affairs and lovers, but it didn’t sit well with you that Jungkook might. Not that you ever imagined him doing any of that, for goodness’ sake–

“What took you so long?”

Jungkook’s voice brought you back to the present, under the cased opening.

“I was lazing about, as always,” you quoted his favourite false reprimand, making him roll his eyes, your own dropping to the floor when he walked closer.

“In that case, prepare a bath for me.”

“Yes, master.”

You sighed at all the work ahead. That being a servant was worlds better than living in the streets didn’t mean you looked forward to collecting gallons of water from a well, carrying them back, heating them, transferring them to a tub, then washing Jungkook—because you did wash him.

Biagio had hurt his left shoulder bad and ever since, he’d needed assistance in certain activities. Curious how he could otherwise chisel a goddamned bust without problem.

Jungkook’s full nudity only made you blush if you stopped scrubbing, so knelt with tucked up sleeves before the wooden tub he was reclined on, scrubbing away the dirt on his skin with lavender-scented soap you were. Maybe all the stupid feelings you’d been suffering lately stemmed from there…

Head resting on the edge, he was exhausted from the long day of work, taking your rubbing as a relaxing massage. You, however, couldn’t ignore the stinging guilt, what with the scar on his shoulder right in front of your face. He probably felt your breathing on it.

“I’m sorry you got hurt…”

Jungkook fought heavy lids only to see you avoid him. Allowing yourself to be vulnerable in front of him was embarrassing, as when he’d caught you crying, but he didn’t take advantage of the fact to humiliate you. Jungkook may be an ogre, but he wasn’t cruel.

“I’ve received worse for less,” he assured you in a calm, low voice. It sounded soothing to your ears.

“That, I don’t doubt,” you scoffed, glancing at his other scar on the cheek. “Did you also get that one in defence of some lady?”

“You’re nowhere close to a lady.” It could be done, you mused. Drowning him. “This was courtesy of my brother.”

“You have a brother?” It dawned on you how little you knew of him. Surely, most had heard it all about the divine Jeon Jungkook, but you’d never cared enough to learn past the shell of gossip, even after months of living with him. In fairness, he’d never asked about you either. You preferred it that way.

“Brothers,” he corrected you. “The one who did this to me was a wayward fool. Had to teach him a lesson.”

“Looks like he taught one to you.”

“I left with a scratch, he with a limp.” The conception of two brothers hurting each other so harshly widened your eyes for a second, and Jungkook noticed, for he added, “He was whoring around, wasting the money I worked hard to send, bullying our other brothers as well.”

Much made sense about Jungkook all of a sudden. Not his personality, that was incomprehensible. But why he killed himself to earn money and yet barely spent it… He had a family to provide for. Once again, you were reminded of his metaphor. Could an angel be in there?

Carrying on washing Jungkook, you dragged the sponge over to his neck. Then his collarbones, his chest, his abs just peaking above the water... They did look like a sculpture’s, especially wet and soaped, reminiscent of polished marble when the light of the torches reflected on them. Swallowing hard, the back of your fingers gingerly graced Jungkook’s muscles, both soft and firm. Slippery. Whatever possessed you to keep feeling them, you lacked the will to expel from your body, and so without realising your grip on the sponge loosened until it fell to float away, fingertips now free to roam over his abs.

You were slowly trailing downwards, past the water’s surface, when your wrist was seized and held in the air in a warning manner, the startle almost making you scream.

Sat upright, Jungkook was glaring at you so fiercely you feared for your life. But he didn’t say anything and instead just breathed hard, jaw clenched… almost as if he was holding back. Your rising heartbeat was deafening in the silence waiting for something to happen, anything, but what did wasn’t what a side of you anticipated with excitement.

Jungkook just let go of your wrist and returned to his previous position, and you got hold of the sponge and finished washing him, albeit holding your breath the entire time.

Days later, you came dangerously close to being fired.

The Pope had summoned Jungkook—something about a portrait commission—and you were to carry his bag filled with sketches for him due to his shoulder injury. As you navigated the ever-busy streets of Rome with him, the cold autumn breeze made you regret not putting on an overgown. The cioppa you’d bought with your own salary and not stolen. It brought a smile to your lips that faded at the realisation your mother would’ve reminded you to put it on before going out.

The sorrow pestering you turned to confusion when Jungkook stopped walking and tsked, telling you loud enough to be heard by all, “Look at him, the chief of police, with such an assemblage.”

A well-dressed man and what appeared to be his entourage walked in your direction, halting near enough. You didn’t have to ask to know this was his rival, the renowned painter Kim Taehyung.

“Whereas you, like an executioner, walk alone,” he mocked Jungkook, then noticed you standing behind him like a timid child. “Not completely, my mistake. Maestro, where in your barren soil did you plant such a flower?” He walked over to you, intentionally bumping Jungkook’s wounded shoulder as he passed, causing him to grunt lowly. From up close one was bound to marvel at how handsome Taehyung was, but you didn’t need proximity to tell he was a prick. Miles away, you would’ve known. “Why don’t you come work for me, flower? I’ll make you my muse.”

Jungkook scoffed again, “What, for your horseshit paintings? She’d be a fool to.”

Taehyung turned around to face him, feigning confusion with a smile. “But, maestro, how could they be so if you were once heard saying that all I have in art, I got from you?”

"You naturally have to resort to plagiarising my master’s genius if all you do is horseshit,” you countered, earning surprised looks from every man present, some laughs too, you were proud to say. Jungkook was certainly smirking. Taehyung opened his mouth, but you walked past him uninterested before a response came out of it.

“Good girl,” Jungkook laughed while leaving the crime scene, and for some reason your cheeks burned hot.

The incident happened once inside the Vatican.

Its grandiose corridors alone made you feel small, too unimportant to walk them, whereas Jungkook did so with determination, knowing he belonged at the top of the world. What with your tempestuous relationship, it was easy to forget he was famous throughout Europe. His feet would still never be kissed by you. Someone had to humble the man, right?

At some point the two of you arrived at a door flanked by guards, and averse, you grabbed the sleeve of Jungkook’s doublet.

“Do I have to go in?”

“Too good for the Pope, are you?” He shook you off. “Come on.”

“Damn you…” you muttered.

“What did you just say to me?”

“After you, master.”

Telling himself he’d be late if he scolded you, Jungkook turned and nodded at the guards, who opened the door of a chamber whose walls were frescoed with angels and saints, likely by Taehyung, giving off the impression one was in Heaven. When you saw him sat on a golden chair, old and grey, enjoying the tune of a lute player, you felt as though you’d just entered Hell.

The audience lasted for ever. While you stood by the door, Jungkook showed the Pope some sketches of the portrait for him to choose his favourite and then they talked and talked of politics. All you could do was fix your gaze somewhere on the floor and sigh.

“Yes, Your Holiness, this is the servant I mentioned…” A frown proceeded your looking up to see Jungkook somewhat embarrassed, scratching his nose as if to hide his face. He talked of you to others? Doubtless to complain…

With a sweet voice as if he was talking to a little girl, the Pope asked you, “What is your name?”

“None of your business, Your Holiness.”

The musician’s tune ceased abruptly, allowing Jungkook’s faint gasp to be heard. Then fell a short silence spent by the Pope blinking, taken aback. “I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me.”

Jungkook was quick to fake a laugh, though sweat formed at his temples. “A jest! She meant no offence, Your Holiness, but to make you laugh.”

You held the Pope’s glare in defiance, indifferent to the fact he was the most powerful man in the whole of Christendom.

By some miracle, he let it go, and you left that chamber minutes later with your head as yet attached to your body. Your arm wouldn’t be for much longer, though, given Jungkook was forcibly dragging you all the way out to the streets, pushing you into the first alley he saw.

“Are you out of your mind?!” he shouted, towering over you menacingly. Unlike the day you’d met, you weren’t scared, rather furious as him as you stood your ground. “That was the Pope, you fool!”

“So?”

Jungkook was in utter disbelief. “He could’ve ordered your execution– mine too!”

“Well, nothing happened!”

“Nothing?! I’m sure to fall out of favour!” He paced around, anxiety quickening his breath. “Years of pouring my soul into my craft, of grovelling before the right people, all thrown away! Good God, your attitude may cost me everything…”

“And what about me?! Everything lost to me does not matter?!”

Jungkook stopped to frown. “What the hell are you talking about?”

It was now you who walked up to him. “I didn’t have a job, or a reputation, or admirers. I had only a family, and I never wished for anything else! That monster you work for took them from me. When the foreigners’ armies came and everyone rushed to Castel Sant’Angelo, he gave the order to close the gates as soon as he was safe behind them! You must have been there with him, weren’t you? Well, we weren’t. We were left outside to be slaughtered. And I wish I had been, like my parents, so I didn’t have to suffer the likes of you any longer!”

Tears were streaming down your face by the end, Jungkook just staring back at you. It didn’t surprise him that your parents were dead or that they’d been killed during the Sack, but that it was so deep a wound left festering in your heart that you didn’t mind being put out of misery. He surmised your disrespectful behaviour towards him was also fruit of your pain, especially if you deemed him an ally of the one who caused it.

“The few things I own… They’re wasted on me. Throw them away or give them to your next servant,” you sobbed, taking for granted you were fired. Anyone with half a brain would indeed have you dismissed, and part of you knew it was bound to happen, that you would go back to breaking in fucking churches to spend the night.

So you turned around into the main street, set on wandering until your legs became too sore not to collapse. With any luck, a carriage would run over you. But warmth then surrounded your hand, and you looked down to see Jungkook’s holding it tight enough to force you to halt. Though still mad, a hint of compassion sparkled in his eyes.

“Let’s… Let us just go home.”

Home. His house had felt so for a while now, truth be told. Himself too.

After that, you non-verbally agreed on a ceasefire—avoiding quarrels, that is, which was quite the task for both.

Such as now that Jungkook had you inking down a letter in his name. First of all, did you look like a scribe? If you’d known in advance the lazy arse would teach you to read and write for this, you’d have chosen to remain illiterate. And second, this was your short break before making dinner, intended to be spent playing with Bam. The poor thing was also in the study, at least being stroked by his owner, who was sat beside you on the desk.

“… I send you my regards, may God keep you from all harm. Jeon Jungkook in Rome,” he finally finished dictating, and you recording. “Give it to me, I’ll seal it.”

He was melting the wax with which to do so when the bell rang, to his surprise. Sighing, you stood up and went to open the door to whom turned out to be Jimin. The sight of him brightened you up, and yours stretched his lips into a smile.

“Evening, Y/N.”

“Good evening! I didn’t know the master was expecting you.”

“He isn’t…” You welcomed him in, brows joining at how he continuously chewed on his aforementioned lip and breathed deep through his nose as he followed you. Had something happened…? A decision to eavesdrop was made en route to the study.

Though Jimin requested for you to stay once there, and nothing could have prepared you for the reason why.

“This actually concerns Y/N…” You and Jungkook exchanged confused looks, him leaning against the desk and crossing arms as though he didn’t like the sound of that. Jimin fixed his already perfect clothes before addressing him, “I’ve come to ask for her hand in marriage.” Your jaw dropped. “I know it’s sudden at the lack of previous courtship, but I thought I should ask for your permission before engaging in it, maestro. She’s a lovely girl… and I think she’d be happy as my wife. Worry not, I won’t ask for a dowry or for her to stop working… Although on second thought, fewer hours of service would be ideal.”

This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be happening.

Jungkook must be thinking the same, for he squinted to ask, “Are you drunk?”

“N-No, of course not.”

“Are you sure? You want to marry a servant with little to her name.” He had a point, so you weren’t offended. If politics weren’t the reason for a union, did this mean… Jimin had feelings for you?

“Maestro, you say it as if I were a lord,” he chuckled. “I don’t care about Y/N’s possessions, I’ll provide for her anyway. I’ve… always been fond of her. And I dare say she shares the sentiment.”

Betrayal hid safely behind a look that asked if there was any truth to that. Obviously not! There was no romance in your own fondness for Jimin. If anything, you had thought he saw you as a younger sister to look after, therefore as a protective older brother you saw him. But so shocked were you still that no words managed to come out, and Jungkook’s gaze shifted back to Jimin.

“I’ll think about it. You may go.”

A curt tone was the norm for Jungkook, it was not being granted his blessing that disappointed Jimin. He knew for a fact he was an honourable man, so why wouldn't he entrust you to him?

“Quite well… I’ll show myself out.” he uttered, before making his leave failing to hide his low spirit by giving you one last shy smile you hadn’t the heart to return.

An awkward silence filled the air that even Bam daren’t break. Only once the front door was heard shutting did you walk closer to Jungkook.

“You won’t agree to this, will you?”

“Why shouldn’t I? I have to get rid of you at some point.”

“Rid of me? Like I’m a burden?” you asked, voice rising. How a servant could be so was unknown to you until, like wooden ship toys did when you’d submerge them in a bucket of water as a child, certain guesses surfaced in your thoughts. Trying to pickpocket him, the constant clashing, Biagio, that bath, the Pope… Yes, you may perhaps be described as a burden. But you didn’t want to leave. With a calmer tone, you pleaded, “I’ll behave from now on. I won’t cause any more trouble, I swear.”

Jungkook didn’t deign to look your way as he left, followed by Bam. “You have to marry at some point, Y/N. Otherwise people will gossip.”

Since when did he care about what people said of him? And why should you?

Winter having dropped its anchor, nightfall arrived early. Not early enough, you brooded as you cooked dinner, longing for the day to end once and for all. With any hope, all of this was a nightmare and upon waking up in the morning life would go back to normal. You didn’t even know why you wanted to stay with Jungkook, as the occasions in which you’d begged Jimin to employ you to leave this house were countless. The only certain thing was that you were upset.

Later, after washing all plates and cups, you began to put off all torches lighting the house, finding out in the hall that Jungkook hadn’t moved from the seat he’d dined in. You considered carrying on with your job and leaving him in the dark, but he wouldn’t find it as funny. Instead, you stood before him.

“Will that be all, master?”

The coldness in your expression made him sigh, “Y/N–”

“I shall retire, then.” You turned to leave but were made to stop in your tracks.

“It’s an advantageous proposal for you,” he lectured to whom he must believe an idiot. “Jimin works for me, he’s wealthy. A better match than you could ever aspire to. And he asks for no dowry because he doesn’t want money, he wants you…” His words were tainted with resentment. “He’ll take good care of you.”

Skirt of your dress swirling along, you faked a smile. “If you think so, master, then it must be so.”

He shook his head as he leaned back in defeat. “Suit yourself, but I won’t be the one to reject Jimin. You crush his heart.”

A laugh escaped you. “If you genuinely cared about him, you wouldn’t let him marry a woman in love with–” Oh no. It only hit you as you were saying it.

Jungkook had appeared annoyed, but now he was mad. “Who?” He stood up abruptly—chair’s feet scratching against the floor making you wince—and walked so close you were backed against the wall, face forced to turn to a side. In a low, deep voice, he repeated, less as a question and more as an order this time, “Who.”

There was no way in the nine circles of Hell you’d say it, when you didn’t want to believe it in the first place. For fuck’s sake, why? Jungkook only ever made you want to get away from him. That was the case right now, but then… why were your feet frozen?

Some unreasonable part of you seemed to have prevailed upon the others, casting away all resistance from your body and allowing yourself to indulge in Jungkook’s proximity. You met his eyes without fear, held his dark gaze. It didn’t take him long to work it out, yet he kept close, so close your unsteady breaths mingled, the effect akin to intoxication. He was visibly trying to hold back, telling himself it’d be a bad idea, but you prayed he wouldn’t care.

By God or the Devil, your prayers were heard.

Jungkook finally smashed his lips into yours, devouring them with a hunger you shared and felt growing as he gripped your waist to press you against him. A minute ago, you wouldn’t have imagined his tongue belonged inside your mouth, swirling around your own, and now you wanted it all over your body. As if reading your mind, Jungkook broke the ardent kiss to move down to your neck, which he licked painfully slowly before sucking hard, making you hiss with pleasure. He knew that would leave a mark, the bastard. You wondered if it was meant for Jimin, so he’d see you were Jungkook’s, and in such case you didn’t mind, let your eyelids close to enjoy it.

Steered by the lust possessing you, one hand grabbed his soft hair in a fistful, keeping his head in place where he was sweetly abusing your neck, while the other travelled southwards until it reached his crotch and held it over the trousers, feeling his cock stiffen. Jungkook groaned—a vibration to your skin—in retaliation lifting your skirt. You’d thought he'd take his time, tease you, but after ensuring you were wet enough by gliding his middle finger along your core, he slid it inside and began making beckoning motions.

“Master…” you moaned, legs shaking. Jungkook forsook your neck to pull back, watch how you struggled to keep it together as he added another finger, curling and uncurling them both, hitting all the right places, and unwilling to give him that satisfaction without consequences you groped his erection with the same vigour. Although he was in good control of his expression, his breath quivered against your lips, so he kissed them again, biting hard into your lower one.

He exhaled, “You’re driving me to sin…”

Indeed, the same fingers that held the brushes when he painted religious artwork were buried deep inside your cunt, bringing you the most sinful ecstasy. It made you chuckle. Jungkook took that as the mockery it was and, crossed, pulled his fingers out of you to drag you by the arm to the edge of the table, where he had you sit. Without delay he lifted your skirt again, only this time he also pulled down his trousers to reveal his cock, thick and throbbing, which he pumped as he watched you spread your legs eagerly, ready to take all of him.

With his free hand Jungkook cupped your cheek, thumb caressing your lower lip, coated with saliva and reddened still from when he’d bit it. He could sense your desire, that you craved him inside, had for a while. Desperately. And however much tempted he was to make you beg for it, his own arousal led his cock to your entrance and eased it inside already, another groan hitting the back of his bared teeth. You didn’t have time to gasp, his thrusts so quick they earned only moans, so wonderful did it feel.

Jungkook’s hand on your cheek then wrapped around your neck. “Do you know how often I’ve fantasised strangling you?”

You chuckled again as you slapped him across the face. Jungkook halted his movements in shock, glared at you. “And I slapping you?”

It took him a moment, but he scoffed and pushed you back so that you were lying down, climbing next atop you, confident that the wooden table was sturdy enough to hold both. So legs hooked around his torso and arms around his neck, you welcomed his thrusts, rough enough to make your eyes water. But it felt heavenly, how he ravished you... The mutual irritation and tension building up for over half a year translated into indescribable pleasure.

He kissed you again, flicking his tongue against yours as he pounded into you without mercy. Overwhelmed by the sensation, all you could do to express you were nearing your limit was sink your nails into Jungkook’s biceps at each side of you, moan inside his mouth. He took the hint and fucked you as fast as his body would allow, within mere seconds your walls clenching tight around him. The sight of you collapsing under him, overcome with bliss, made him reach his own highest shortly, spurting his warm seed inside you.

As his movements gradually ceased, so did your panting. Before a complete silence fell, you asked, “Am I still to marry Jimin?”

Jungkook grabbed your face and growled against your pouted lips, “You’re not going anywhere.”

#bts au #jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #bts jungkook #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #bts #bts x reader #bts fanfiction #bts scenarios #bangtan imagine #bts smut #jeon jungkook scenarios #bts fic #jeongguk #bangtan #bts x you

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reasonsforhope · 7 months

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Legit though, we should start turning ecosystem restoration and work to make our world more tolerant to the effects of climate change into annual holidays and festivals

Like how just about every culture used to have festivals to celebrate the beginning of the harvest or its end, or the beginning of planting, or how whole communities used to host barn raisings and quilting bees - everyone coming together at once to turn the work of months or years into the work of a few days

Humble suggestions for festival types:

Goat festival

Besides controlled burns (which you can't do if there's too much dead brush), the fastest, most effective, and most cost-efficient way to clear brush before fire season - esp really heavy dead brush - is to just. Put a bunch of goats on your land for a few days!

Remember that Shark Tank competitor who wanted to start a goat rental company, and everyone was like wtf? There was even a whole John Oliver bit making fun of the idea? Well THAT JUST PROVES THEY'RE FROM NICE WET PLACES, because goat rental companies are totally a thing, and they're great.

So like. Why don't we have a weekend where everyone with goats just takes those goats to the nearest land that needs a ton of clearing? Public officials could put up maps of where on public lands grazing is needed, and where it definitely shouldn't happen. Farmers and people/groups with a lot of acres that need clearing can post Goat Requests.

Little kids can make goat-themed crafts and give the goats lots of pets or treats at the end of the day for doing such a good job. Volunteers can help wrangle things so goats don't get where they're not supposed to (and everyone fences off land nowadays anyway, mostly). And the goats, of course, would be in fucking banquet paradise.

Planting Festival and Harvest Festival

Why mess with success??? Bring these back where they've disappeared!!! Time to swarm the community gardens and help everyone near you with a farm make sure that all of their seeds are sown and none of the food goes to waste in the fields, decaying and unpicked.

And then set up distribution parts of the festival so all the extra food gets where it needs to be! Boxes of free lemons in front of your house because you have 80 goddamned lemons are great, but you know what else would be great? An organized effort to take that shit to food pantries (which SUPER rarely get fresh produce, because they can't hold anything perishable for long at all) and community/farmer's markets

Rain Capture Festival

The "water year" - how we track annual rainfall and precipitation - is offset from the regular calendar year because, like, that's just when water cycles through the ecosystems (e.g. meltwater). At least in the US, the water year is October 1st through September 30th of the next year, because October 1st is around when all the snowmelt from last year is gone, and a new cycle is starting as rain begins to fall again in earnest.

So why don't we all have a big barn raising equivalent every September to build rain capture infrastructure?

Team up with some neighbors to turn one of those little grass strips on the sidewalk into a rain-garden with fall-planting plants. Go down to your local church and help them install some gutters and rain barrels. Help deculvert rivers so they run through the dirt again, and make sure all the storm drains in your neighborhood are nice and clear.

Even better, all of this - ESPECIALLY the rain gardens - will also help a ton with flood control!

I'm so serious about how cool this could be, yall.

And people who can't or don't want to do physical stuff for any of these festivals could volunteer to watch children or cook food for the festival or whatever else might need to be done!

Parties afterward to celebrate all the good work done! Community building and direct local improvements to help protect ourselves from climate change!

The possibilities are literally endless, so not to sound like an influencer or some shit, but please DO comment or reply or put it in the notes if you have thoughts, esp on other things we could hold festivals like this for.

Canning festivals. "Dig your elderly neighbors out of the snow" festivals. Endangered species nesting count festival. Plant fruit trees on public land and parks festival. All of the things that I don't know anywhere near enough to think of. Especially in more niche or extreme ecosystems, there are so many possibilities that could do a lot of good

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 11 months

Text

Run Away To Me (I)

AU MASTERLIST || PART II

PAIRING: Blacksmith!Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Runaway Bride!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 4.8k

WARNINGS: Blood, wounds, being hunted/chased, medieval period-esc standards, arranged marriage insinuations, toxic family insinuations, angst, protective Johnny?, etc.

A/N: This series is so Lord Huron coded

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You rush through the low-hanging branches of the reaching pines, their green arms tearing at the once perfect and virginal white dress clothing your body; waves of delicate fabric like bird’s wings. Shredded and torn, you sob in large gasps while the shouting gets louder behind you—the pound of vile hooves along cobblestone.

“After her!” Blood was rushing down a long slice in your palm, dripping to the verdant grass as you traversed the off-trial paths, the roads of animals and bandits—monsters in the night.

Flashes of torchlight had gone out long ago, the rain slamming the ground with ancient purpose as the storm got angrier. Tree trunks slam into your shoulders, the wedding dress ripping away in strips as pine needles pierce the bare skin of your feet. Your shoes had slipped off as soon as you had started this mad dash.

“She went this way! Quickly!” You run faster, shuffling down a long hill as mud gets packed into your flesh; infecting wounds with its slimy make-up.

“Please,” your voice begs lowly, hiccuping out vowels as you drop to your knees at the bottom of a ravine before you sob and grit your teeth. Wading through the stream of chilled water, you dig into the ground and shove yourself up on shaking legs as rain pelts your head. “Please, I can’t go back.”

Even your thin clothes are heavy on you—body weighed down by terror and a desperate plea. Because what you said was true. You can’t go back. Can’t go back to the search party, can’t go back to the ceremony…and you can’t go back to the man you were supposed to marry. No, you’d rather face the woods.

Scaling up the other edge of the ravine, you slam a bloody hand down to the rocks atop, pebbles flying past your face as a flash of lightning momentarily illuminates your field of view. Noises reminiscent of an animal carve their way out of your esophagus, teeth gritted as feet slip and strain.

You heave yourself over and fight the weakness in your arms. Coughing, you pray the storm will wash away any trace of your charge to freedom—the blood and the tracks. With any luck, the hounds won’t be able to pick up your scent even with the strips of your dress left behind in the branches.

Pushing away the water from your forehead, you stumble onwards on unsteady feet that pound with pain. Grasping at your gushing palm, you cry out as the burning pain echoes up your forearm.

“Whatever God is out there,” You speak in gasps, slurring the words as your dry throat grates. It’s all but lost to the wind in its great bouts of staggering attacks through the trucks of the trees. “Please, offer me sanctuary.”

Lightning is the world’s answer, more streaks of light that make your soaked body flinch and shake even more. Yet, in that tiny second of light, there had been something in the far distance—a shadow.

Your eyes peer harder, the calls from the riders suck in the back of your mind as they taper off as the search is re-routed.

What was…?

Wooden sides, three separate rectangular shapes that stand firm in the rampaging elements. Your feet slide over the ground as you limp in the direction you’d seen them, the flesh of your body so cold that you had gone numb in the sheets of rainfall.

A heart fills with senseless hope.

A homestead! With no other option, you take a deep, ragged, breath and continue on as quickly as you’re able; dress hanging off one shoulder. When you reach the front door some ear-ringing minutes later you’re barely standing upright—legs teetering and thighs shaking with dying vigor.

Panting, your first banging to the wood is weak at best, barely a sound above the thunder and the slap of rain. You strangle a sob and wrench your shoulder back, landing three hard hits that act more like punches. Pain blossoms in your hand, but you continue striking the wood.

There’s a loud ruckus from behind the blackened barrier, a yell, and before your knuckles can make themselves bleed from fear-filled adrenaline, the door is whipped open. A dim firelight spills out from a low hearth and you find yourself staring into the narrowed eyes of a man and his exasperated expression.

There’s the beginning of a growl, heavy with an accented voice, “Now who in the hell is—!”

A strong jaw goes slack, brunette stubble stilling. Blue eyes like cobalt instantly peel back to show the whites, words strangled away in a sharp inhale.

The man is in his late twenties, stocky, and clothed in a loose sleep shirt made of thin linen with black pants. His shoulders were near large enough to knock on the frame of the door as he stood in it, built with the strength of a boar and then some. His large, lightly-tanned hand on the door slackens as his eyes speedily dart down your disoriented form. Biceps the size of your skull.

Heart hammering, you stare for a moment longer, rain pelting your back and looking like a wet dog. It’s as if you’ve forgotten to speak beyond gasps for air, but your eyes implore enough for you. The stranger recovers from his surprise at seeing such a beautiful lone woman at his door with a clearing of his throat.

“...Christ, Dearie, you’re soakin’ wet out here.” He shoulders the door open wider without another question. “Inside, now, quickly.”

You wrap your arms around your waist and speed into the shelter of the home, water dripping down to the wood as you shiver and your teeth clatter. Not for a second did you think if this might be safe or not, too scared of the riders and their hounds than anything. You wouldn’t allow them to drag you back to your husband-to-be. Not in a million years.

Your voice is hiccuping as you speak.

“I…I don’t mean to i-intrude, I’m very sorry, Sir.” The man looks around his home before he spots a large bear fur by the messy bed in the corner—he rushes over and grabs it. “I ask forgiveness for w-waking you at such an hour.”

“Jesus, is that what you’re worried about?” Blue eyes crease at you as the heavy fur over your shoulders; your hands snap to catch it, the entire thing swallowing you as gaze up in confusion. The man frowns, staring back as water drips from your nose. “Let’s just focus on gettin’ you dry, yeah? You’ll catch your death like this, Little Lady.”

A wide hand presses to the expanse of your spine, prodding you forward as you squeak at the sudden contact. You’re guided to a small chair in front of the hearth, plopped down and the sides of the fur are hiked up to your neck quickly.

The stranger kneels down in front of you, focused, and his tired eyes alight with worry. He makes sure the fur isn’t going to fall as he blinks over the state of your hands. He pauses, his large grip stalling at the sight of spreading blood.

Your wound—you’d almost forgotten.

“Now what’s this, then?” The brunette's words are quiet, very in-tune with your state as you try to catch your breath and shiver. It was like coaxing a wild animal.

Blinking, you shift your hand farther under the bear's fur, bringing it to your chest.

“I won’t be here long, Sir. I promise,” you try to change the topic, but quickly jerk your nose into the crook of your arm as you sneeze, bending over slightly as mud and blood stain your skin.

Lips tighten along a square face.

“It’s Johnny, Miss.” The world outside rages on, blocked out by the four walls of this nicely sized home of wooden logs and boards. It was well-made with pine and cider, the large hearth in the back wall with inlets near the shuddered windows and various crudely carved pieces of art.

Weapon displays lined the walls, various makes and models hung on pegs. Axes and swords, spears with red-leather shafts set next to halberds of black steel. You blink at them in slight concern, not used to being around weapons.

Johnny, as he calls himself, sees this and quickly explains as he rubs at the back of his head, eyes crinkling.

“Ah, Johnny MacTavish, the blacksmith, that is,” a small, rough chuckle echos out.

You ease at that.

“Mr. MacTavish,” you give your name and offer a kind, yet still anxious, smile. “I give my thanks for allowing me shelter. A-and the fur.”

His gaze slips down to your hidden hand once more, face swirling with an unidentified emotion before studying your torn wedding gown.

“Well, I’m not one to leave a person out on my doorstep in weather like this. Certainly not a Lady.” His brow raises, head tilting. “You going to let me clean that wound a’yours or am I going to have to fish it out myself?”

Your body tenses slowly, bare feet shuffling over the floor. Staring at Johnny, you gaze at the strangely cut hair atop his head and the messy strands that speak to a night of shifting on his bed. His face is honest and open to you, blinking in soft question as his head angles to the side with an easy twitch of his lips.

“It’s really not necessary,” you try to chuckle but it falls flat, eyes red and heart still speeding.

Johnny sighs and glances at the fire, blinking before he shifts to grab another log and toss it in with no concern for the heat of the flame that lap at his fingers. You watch his muscles bunch under his shirt and quickly look at your lap.

“I’m not the greatest doctor out there, Dearie, but I can do good with washin’ out a cut an’ wrapping it.” You study him and nervously tighten your lips. Johnny’s face seems to soften, hands going up and wrists tilting as his knee stays connected to the floor; firelight on his face. A small smile blooms. “C’mon, I’m not that scary of a bastard, am I?”

You spare a tiny chuckle, shoulders jumping as rainwater slips down your chin. Your shivering was still going on, and would until you got a change of clothes, but the warmth from the fire was helping tremendously. Already feeling was returning to your limbs.

“Ah,” the blacksmith huffs a laugh, “there’s a smile. Now, let's have a little look-see shall we?”

Under the fur, your hand lightly shifts, coming back into view, slit palm and all. Johnny’s eyes darken, face going serious behind his stubble. Brown brows turn in.

“Now where in the hell did you get a—” Just as his gigantic hands were about to circle around yours, there was a violent knock at the door.

You shoot up in an instant, jerking away from the blacksmith as he snaps his head to the front, eyes lighting. He stands up slowly as you back up a few paces, eyes frantically darting back and forth. The knocking starts up again and thunder peels from outside.

Your form flinches.

“You can’t let them take me back,” you say quickly, breathing catching up in speed again. Fear burns your lungs and suddenly you’re ten times colder than before. “Mr. MacTavish, please, I can’t go back.”

Another round of knocking shakes the barrier. Blues eyes stare at you blankly, half-turned face pulled in visible confusion as Johnny’s jaw clenches.

A voice echoes from under the door as the blacksmith once more lets his eyes linger down your battered frame; taking in cuts and the limp you carry. Muddy feet and water stained red. His hands twitch at his sides.

“These are the guards of Lord Wilkin, would anyone in this home come to make him or herself known? It is of the utmost urgency!” You grow more fearful, head darting to find any other exit in this home but you land on nothing besides the windows. Your fingers shake with panic.

No, no, no.

Confusion gives way to deep concern.

A hand grasps your upper arm and you’re being hurried to the corner wall by the front door with fast feet and a firm, iron, grip. An accented voice mumbles quietly by your ear, “Keep quiet for me, Dearie. It’s alright, you let me take care of it.”

He stands you there and takes one last look at you, blinking, before grabbing the bear fur and pulling it above your head in a swift motion. There’s a quiet chuckle as you tense and slam a hand up to the brown material instinctually before Johnny darts around the corner and opens the door. You hold your breath and listen.

“Well, steamin’ Jesus, you bastards have any idea what time it is?! And in this damning weather, you show up at my door reamin’ on the wood like you’re the one who has to keep it anchored to the frame.” There’s a fast conversation of apologies and explanations that you can't catch above the yell of the rain.

“Does it look like I give a shite about a lost bride? Not my fuckin’ place to keep ‘er…I’ve seen nothing besides you…anyone out in this storm is as good as lost…” You listen and stay completely still, holding your breath as if it’s a prisoner in your lungs.

You can hardly believe it. Why was this man…lying for you? A wounded stranger that had shown up at his doorstep in nothing but a tattered gown and babbling through tears. Anyone else would have turned you over—especially to your betrothed, Lord Wilkin. He owned these lands and held fiefs by all who lived here. Not a man to mess with, if your slit palm was anything to go by.

“Go on!” Johnny calls loudly, and the door closes a second later, the latch locking. There’s a moment of nothing, before the clearing of a throat and a soft call. “Well, they won’t be back, least.”

He pops around the corner and smiles comfortingly.

“Sorry about the yellin'.” You part your lips in innocent awe and you take a deep breath before speaking slowly.

“Why would you do that?” His expression tightens, crossing his arms over his chest. Under him, his large hips shift.

“Ya asked, didn’t you?” Your blank expression only serves to make him chuckle heartily, head shaking. Johnny hums, “I won’t press you about it all tonight, though I well should. You’re in no shape for it.” Cobalt eyes glance at the food before looking back up. “But I’m guessin’ you have a good enough reason to sneak off as I hear you did.”

The very blood in your body heats with warmth.

You’re waved back over to the chair by the hearth. “Let’s get that injury looked at and I‘ll get you a change of clothes. You can take my place for the night,” eyes twinkle, “there’s no bed bugs in it, Dearie, knight’s honor.”

“What about iron shavings?” You call back softly, lips jerking up momentarily. The man’s actions had given you a large amount of trust in him. Johnny blinks in surprise at your joke, but a large grin grows moments later as you walk over delicately.

“Can’t say for certain, but I promise there’ll be no weapons under the covers. If anyone breaks in they’ll find my fists to be the first iron they get a touch of.”

Your laugh bounces off the walls, hand coming up to cover your mouth in the picture of a cultured upbringing. Johnny chuckles in turn, looking smug. He liked your laugh, it seems.

“That was detestable, Mr. MacTavish.” You sit down, and Johnny kneels where he had been before—his hand outstretched where you carefully place your wounded limb.

Immediately you feel the scrape of old burns and calluses, hands hardened by long hours of labor and intensive demands. You’re certain these are the hardest hands that have ever touched your skin, but it astounds you by how gently you’re being caressed and turned. People with far fairer flesh have never handled you like this. As if you would break apart with the barest of pressures.

Your breath stills as the blacksmith, with all the care of a butterfly, tilts your cut into the light and studies it, thumb absentmindedly brushing up and down your wrist. You hold back a shiver.

“Ah,” he grumbles, still smiling yet more focused on your injury now. “It wasn’t that bad.”

You hum under your breath and try not to flinch when he wipes away a stain of mud near your wound. The blacksmith grunts to himself, gentle pressure at your flesh like the scuff of tree bark. But it wasn’t unpleasant. No, you thought, not at all.

The two of you fall into a hole of soft silence, Johnny leaving for a moment to grab a bucket of water and bandages, saying in a mutter that he had plenty of the former to go around.

“Have a habit of burnin’ myself on my bad days, y’see,” he shimmies past, pausing before pulling back up the bear fur from where it had slightly slipped down your neck. “Comes with the job.”

Your face burns as he grabs what he needs, eyes stuck on your lap. You were astounded by the man’s ability to put away his obvious confusion for your care, how he was content to wait for answers until you were rested. It was honorable of him.

Thinking back to Lord Wilkin’s guards at the door, your thighs shift over the chair. They’d be looking for you until they found you—be that days or months, it didn’t matter. The Lord wasn’t someone to let what he wanted get away from him. Like senseless beasts, your family would undoubtedly help. Your chest is stiff with worry. How would you get away with this?

The scene you’d made at the wedding wasn’t exactly subtle.

Johnny comes back carrying a small bucket of fresh water, ladled from the wash basin, and a bundle of clean white cloth.

“Alright,” he huffs, “let’s get this sorted, eh, Dearie?” The wound was very obviously a slice from a knife, anyone could see it.

Johnny takes your hand once more and holds it in his palm, glancing up at you before dipping one of the cloths into the water and beginning to clean the cut.

“Is it…bad, Mr. MacTavish?” You ask, worried about the likelihood of scarring. That would be the last thing you would want. The blacksmith looks up from where he pats the edges, the fabric already going red.

“Just Johnny, if it pleases you,” he smiles, hulking form seemingly all a facade to hide a cheeky and loyal Scot. “And…no, not bad. If you’re worried about a mark, don’t be—it’s deep but only at the beginning. A slight discoloration, no more.” His brows pull back, teasing, “You’ll not end up like me, at any rate.” Your shoulders ease back, and you let him work with a thankful comment and a giggle.

You watch and take in the way his jaw clenches and loosens as he works, completely focused as if he was fashioning an axe and not helping a complete stranger.

“There’s no harm in scars,” you settle on saying, thinking over his last comment. Blues lock with your eyes, head tilting like a hound. Your face gains a slight heat to it and you stutter, “It’s just this one I’d rather not carry, Johnny.” Smiling warmly, you see the man’s lips part, his motions stalling for a moment as he looks up at you and blinks. “But yours suit you if…I’m allowed to say.”

It’s then that you realize that a slight flush has come to his cheeks, starting from under his stubble and leaking out to his cheeks like a red blaze—his gaze burrows deep with hidden fire that rivals the dancing shadows from the hearth.

Noticing, your own face burns all the hotter as the blacksmith quickly clears his throat, snapping his eyes away. Fingers once more cleaning your cut, he grunts out, neck now shifting to a blush of crimson, “...Thank you, Miss.”

You stay in silence for the rest of the delicate process; the air heated and rolling with something. Electricity sparks when Johnny’s hands rub across yours, large enough to break you in an instant but acting like moss over a stone. You find yourself falling into a sort of comforted state you hadn’t felt in a long time—the fur over your shoulders and the tingle of skin-on-skin contact that expects nothing but offers all.

“There,” Johnny says at last, and a part of you wants to cry when he pulls back, standing slowly. A firm but malleable wrapping is over your palm, a tiny knot tied in the middle to keep it from falling off.

You bring it to your abdomen and blink, the other hand going to run over the material.

“Thank you, Johnny. Truly. If I hadn’t found your homestead, I would have been lost.” The man rubs at the back of his neck, tunic bunched up by his elbows.

“Gah,” after a second of bruising off the comment, he waves a hand while his wide chest puffs with pride. “It’s no trouble, really. Keeps me on my toes.”

Outside the storm continues to beat the walls, and the blacksmith can’t help but feel his eyes drawn to your dwarfed form under the large fur, the dripping water, and the weight of your gown. Based on the information from the guard, he had a decent story already forming in his head.

A runaway bride and an angry Lord. By his own role as the fiefdom’s accomplished blacksmith, he should be turning you over. But your eyes had been flooded with tears when you’d pounded on his door; soaked in rain and mud—blood. No shoes. Freezing.

You had looked so afraid, his heart had hurt for you, a strong need to shelter you stuck like a knife into his ribs. Johnny had seen much in his life, war, and death, but your desperation had stuck a cord in him.

He’d keep you here with no charge, offer food and shelter, and do what he can to understand your situation. If not for simply hospitality sake, then because he had heard your laugh and had found it to be like a bird’s call in the wake of a dew-coated morning. Your soft skin like the wisps of fire from his forges. Your voice like a rippling spring. There was no way to describe the way he wanted to help besides to admit to himself that he was a good man.

And, while cocky, the blacksmith had never once been self-absorbed.

He watches you rub at your damp cheek and starts out of whatever trance he had been sucked into.

“I’ll…” Johnny rubs at his neck again, “I’ll get you that change of clothes, Bonnie. You just wait right here.”

You stare at his back as he strides over, the fatigue washing back over you now that the adrenaline leaves in its stupendous sweep of heavy heartbeats. Anyone else would have given you up. Your face softens, seeing the quick dig of hands into the stack of clothes in the dresser.

“Fuckin’ hell,” the man huffs, looking over his shoulder and shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Dearie, all I’ve got are my tunics and pants.” Black and pale cream linen is held up on display.

“Oh,” you mutter, “I don’t mind,” your chuckle makes his lips twitch with care. “I would just prefer to be out of this…thing.” Your eyes glare down at the tattered gown, breathing softly. “Anything is perfect.”

“Well, then I hope you don’t mind the smell of fire,” Johnny hums. “Here you are.” As much as his insides twist to understand the story, making sure you don’t run a cold was more important.

Your legs push you up and you walk over softly, gliding over the wooden floor to take up the articles and dig your fingers into the warm and easy texture, thin stitching, and cuffed wrists. There was a cut down the neck with a tied cord looped through, making up an ‘x’ pattern.

“I would say thank you again,” you begin, “but I think you’ll be getting annoyed with how many times I’ve already said it.”

Johnny laughs, crossing his arms over his chest and setting his feet.

“Ah, perhaps only a little.” Silence laps into a minute, and you study him with slow puzzlement, tilting your head. For a moment, the man wonders what he’s done. The blacksmith’s dark brows furrow, lips moving back. He looks down at the clothes again and starts with a wild blinking of his lids.

“Oh! Hell’s bells, right,” Johnny walks to the other side of the room and swiftly turns his back to you with respect and a burning neck. He cringes. “Christ.”

You laugh brightly, letting the fur fall to the floor as you undress and shimmy into the borrowed clothes. Your nose takes in the scents of metal and fire—fatty linseed oil used to protect a blade against corrosion. With the crackling fire, you slip the large tunic above your head and find that it falls heavily over you; far thicker than it seemed and very comfortable, ending at your lower thigh.

But those scents make your head spin, rolling up the cuffs as you bring your nose to the collar and once more take it in with a slow breath. You hum and move, throwing the bear fur back atop your shoulders and grabbing your ruined garments from the floor before calling out to the rod-straight figure.

“Johnny?” His arms lightly jerk, as if he’d been unfocused, but he doesn’t turn around. “Where would you like me to throw these?”

The blacksmith delicately tilts his head to the side and utters with his eyes stuck to the side wall. “Bin by the door is just fine.” You look to the container holding scraps and other garbage to be taken out and drop the gown in before rubbing your cheek.

Wide cobalt eyes stare at the clothes you wear heavily, jaw loose before he re-set it and averts his gaze. Johnny chuckles to ease himself and loops his thumbs into his waistband, embarrassed.

“Do you need anything else, then?” Your eyes blink with fatigue.

“No, I…I don’t think so.” Gazing at the home, your lips thin. Your family would have a heart attack if you even mentioned that you were staying the night at a complete stranger’s homestead. No protection, no way to beat off a blacksmith beyond a well-placed punch, and running from your betrothed. To say that you’d cause anything less than a heart attack would be generous. But Johnny felt different. Firmer in his emotions and intentions. Far more than the Lord.

That was really all that matted.

“Are you really sure this is okay,” you still ask hesitantly, gargantuan clothes atop your frame. Johnny is already nodding firmly.

“It’s my pleasure. I won’t be turnin’ you back out to the woods in a storm like this.” For whatever reason, the next words fall from his lips like an oath. “There’ll be no harm comin’ to ya as long as you stay under my roof.”

Your hand burns with the memory of his gentle grip and your heart skips beats. You feel as if a great weight is lifted, even if only for a night.

“Alright,” your words barely make it to air, and you grip the bear fur harder to stop yourself from kissing this man’s cheek, wanting to take him into a tight hug.

Johnny takes a blanket from the bottom of his bed and shuffles over to the inlet below the shuddered window, sitting down while you slowly walk forward.

“But, Little Lady,” you rest on the edge of the bed and look up to find him watching you intently, leaning back with a hand behind his head and the other on his stomach. The fire still crackles, the storm still dances outside, and the room is still tight with something you can’t put a name to. Like you’re caught in a trap of soft pillows and the scent of metal, you listen to the blacksmith with bated breath. “I’ll be needin’ answers…you hear?”

Licking your lips, you nod tersely. “Tomorrow,” you agree.

Johnny gazes off into your eyes, the runaway bride that had shown up on his doorstep and captured his attention like a bird made of a white wedding gown and panicked breath. He sneaks a peek down at your wrapped hand as you settle on his bed, burrowing into his furs and his covers—wearing his clothes.

For some unknown reason, the smallest of blood stains makes his chest roll with bright anger.

“Tomorrow,” he grunts through a tight jaw before he fights to turn his head away from you. It’s a long while before he sees any type of sleep, listening to the sound of your soft breath and the crackle of the fire.

TAGS:

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mydearlybeloathed · 5 months

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── 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you just can't get to sleep thanks to a terrible rainstorm terrorizing the ship. luckily, your tossing and turning inspired nami with an idea: just go sleep with the swordsman.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: roronoa zoro x fem!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1k

don' ask about the aesthetic k? k 💙

With how the hail storm rattled against the hull of the ship, and how the vessel careened on the waves, you were at a loss as to how Nami was fast asleep already.

The crew had settled down for sleep hours ago, the laughter and teasing from dinner falling into a soft silence draping over each and every one of you—well, except you, that is.

Even after months at sea, the incessant rocking had you curling into yourself, headache blooming under the skin of your temples. Groaning, you rolled around on your sheets, burying your face in your pillow as you shoved the blanket off your shoulders and down your body. Chill air hit you instantly, a contrast to the sweat rising from your skin. All you wanted was sleep, but your ears rang with the sound of rainfall and the far off thunder rumbling through the sky.

You tossed and turned again and again, rest ever so far away and the sway of the Going Merry making kept your mind alert with all its tilts and jumps. Yet another grunt of frustration huffed from your lips, and Nami finally sprang up, glaring at you from across the cabin.

“What’s wrong?” she demanded, her eyes heavy and her annoyance high.

Great. Now Nami was upset, which usually lasted a whole day if you were unlucky. You didn’t bother turning back to look at her, digging yourself deeper into your blanket. “Sorry…”

She sighed and rubbed at her cheek, gaze drifting over your exhausted form, taking in what she could in the dark. Settling back down, Nami said what she’d been thinking for the past two hours of listening to you loll around restlessly. “Just go sleep with Zoro.”

A beat passed, your eyes slowly opening as you tried to convince yourself you’d heard her wrong. You flipped around and gaped at the girl slinking into her sheets with a smirk you would catch through any dark room. “What? Why would I—Why would you—Nami!”

She chuckled darkly, her bright eyes finding yours. Nami propped her head up on her hand. “It wouldn’t be the first time, right?”

Trying and failing to make a comeback, you opened and closed your mouth like a gaping fish, settling on crossing your arms over your chest. “That’s none of your business.”

“Uh-huh,” she drawled. “But I’ve got dawn watch and am in desperate need of sleep.” All you did was stare at her, your glare fading. Nami rolled onto her back, offering into the silence, “It’s not like he’ll turn you away.”

You tried so very hard to let her logic roll off your shoulders, but it was cold (Zoro was warm) and you were tired (Zoro was a good napping buddy). As appealing as the idea was, you didn’t want to bother him. Zoro was probably just getting back from his night watch, Sanji heading up to the deck in his wake. Zoro wouldn’t turn you away, but he might grumble at you, and sometimes that was worse.

“Stop overthinking,” Nami’s voice whispered through a hiss. “He likes you.”

She was just trying to give you heart palpitations saying stuff like that. “Does not.”

“Mhmm. Get some sleep… with Zoro.”

You threw your pillow across the room, missing her bed by a longshot. You could throw pillows and shout whispered words at her all you wanted—it didn’t change that she had a point.

It wouldn’t be the first time you crawled into Zoro’s hammock late at night, seeking shelter from sleeplessness that seemed to miraculously melt in his embrace. Nami might’ve been right; Zoro might like you, at least more than he liked anybody else. It was confusing most days, but your mind was so mushy with fatigue you didn’t bother running over the finer details of your affections for the swordsman.

You puffed out a huff, eliciting a growl from the dark, “Go. Or neither of us will sleep.”

“Fine.” You threw off your blanket and marched out of the cabin before you could lose your nerve, trudging through the nearly pitch black hall of the Merry.

You yelped as you tripped over a discarded broom, cursing into the night as you kicked it aside and kept on toward the boy’s cabin. As soon as you laid eyes on the closed door, your footsteps faltered, heart stuttering.

The ship leaned on the waves and sent you teetering into the wall, and the decision was suddenly easy. You inched the door open gently, wincing at the momentary creak, and slipped inside.

The boys’ cabin always had a… unique scent to it. Somewhere between burning socks and musk is how Nami described it. Honestly (now, you would never tell her this), you just thought it smelled like Zoro. Though Zoro might’ve been slightly less odorous on good days, you mused.

The swordsman of your infatuation lay in a swaying hammock tied up between two support beams holding up the ceiling. A flash of lightning illuminated his peaceful face for a brief moment, and the room was back to black.

Collecting your wits, you approached him slowly, careful not to step on any of the clutters the boys left lying about. Lip pinched between your teeth, you stepped around a crate of slingshot ammo Usopp had crafted, catching your foot on the slingshot itself and jumping out of the way.

You swept the room fretfully, yet no one stirred, the usual snores rising and falling. A sigh puffed form your chest as you turned back to Zoro’s hammock, only to lock eyes with the stoic swordsman as he gazed blearily up at you.

Lurching back, you calmed your racing heart and huffed at him. “You scared me.”

Zoro leaned up on his elbows, confused. “You scared me.” His gaze flickered all over your face. “What’re you doing?”

You fisted your hands, feeling like a deer at headlights, and blurted, “Nami kicked me out.”

Zoro’s brows drew instantly. “What?” He rose halfway when you hand found his chest, gently pushing him back down.

“I mean,” you amended. “I couldn’t sleep, and she got tired of me rolling around…” Bashful in how you averted your eyes, swaying on your feet, “I… sleep better with you. Y’know?”

Not even a second later he tugged on your arm to draw you closer, shuffling over to offer you some room. You smiled softly, falling into the space beside him, molding right into his side. “Yeah, I know.”

Your face warmed, your heart swelled, and you rested your head on the rigid outline of his shoulder, adjusting to find a comfortable place. Zoro’s arm slid under you and curled you further into his side, a sigh pulling from his chest, his muscles literally relaxing under each of your touches.

There wasn’t a name for what you and Zoro were, not yet anyway, and somehow you were fine with that. He was there, and you were there, and that felt like enough. For now, you let your eyes finally give way to exhaustion, the pelting of the rain growing fainter and fainter.

Nami was a tease, but she made some good points a lot of the time. You’d have to thank her in the morning, after you finally got to sleep in the arms of your swordsman.

#zoro #zoro x reader #opla!zoro x reader #opla #roronoa zoro x reader #one piece #one piece live action sanji #one piece x reader #x reader #reader insert #female reader

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strangererotica · 8 days

Text

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: You and Eddie spend some ‘quality time’ together in his van on a stormy afternoon 😘 Includes oral sex (f receiving) face-sitting, masturbation, squirting, unprotected p in v sex

It’s a gorgeous, stormy afternoon in Hawkins. Heavy rainfall drums against the roof of Eddie’s van, trickling down its fogged-up windows. The two of you are wrapped together under a blanket in the back, stripped to your underwear. Eddie’s hands run along your back as you lay over him, his fingers working your bra undone. He succeeds at unhooking it and the bra slides down, the fat of your breasts now pressed against his bare skin. Your breath hitches when your peaked nipples meet the coarse hair on Eddie’s chest. Every part of you seems on fire, sensitive and filled with need. Eddie can feel your arousal, one of his thighs situated between yours, the warmth of your soaked panties wetting his leg…

His breath is warm and moist on your neck, raising goosebumps across your skin. Eddie’s lips suck gently along the base of your throat, traveling down your chest till he’s massaging your breast in his mouth. You keen into his tongue, gliding your nipple against the soft, wet pad. Lightning strikes close by, the rumble of thunder vibrating the backseat under your bodies. Eddie slides his lips off your breast, his eyes wide with mischief. “That was a big one, huh?” he murmurs up at you. Adjusting yourself on top of Eddie, you’re now straddling his bulge instead of his thigh. He groans as you bear down on his stiff cock, the fat outline prominently tenting his boxers. “Yeah, it is a big one,” you respond, using Eddie’s previous words.

He holds you at the waist, rolling his hips upward, grinding you over his bulge. The rain grows stronger along with the wind, whipping against the sides of Eddie’s van. He gently eases you off of him for a second, gazing between your bodies at the soaking mess you’ve made on his boxers. “Jesus Christ,” he marvels, sounding awestruck. “I don’t know if it’s wetter out there, or in here…Fuck I need to taste you…” Eddie guides your hips as you crawl up his body, till your thighs are framing his face. “Atta girl,” he mumbles into your cunt, but his words are obviously muffled by your pussy in his mouth. Eddie’s left hand squeezes at your hip, while his right hand moves to touch himself.

His eyes drift closed, his tongue lapping your cunt through your slippery panties. You sink deeper over Eddie’s face, humping his lips and chin, marking him in your scent. He’s tugging at his cock now, grunting into your wet heat as he fucks himself and you at the same time. Your fingers are locked in Eddie’s hair, his ebony curls damp with sweat. The atmosphere inside the van is extremely warm, prompting you to toss the blanket off your bodies and onto the floor. Eddie’s hand is working himself closer and closer to climax, his mouth sucking your clit through your panties with the same goal. The underwear is completely saturated by this point, a useless barrier between your cunt and Eddie’s mouth. When you come, your orgasm fucking drenches Eddie, the slippery liquid running down his cheeks and neck.

Eddie flips you over, pulling his cock from his boxers and tugging the sopping crotch of your panties aside. Your legs wrap around him instinctively, begging him to fill you up, and he readily obliges. Eddie enters you easily in one thrust, his hands clutching your ankles for leverage as he pumps your cunt full of his release. He lays over you, panting and chuckling into your hair, “fuck sweetheart, m’sorry I came so quick. Y’just squeezed me so good, couldn’t help myself…”

Eddie slides a hand between your bodies to pull his dick out of you, his fingers grazing your clit in the process. A little gasp leaves your body at the contact; Eddie smiles up at you wickedly, that mischievous look in his eyes again. “Aww,” he coos. “Looks like you’ve got one more in there for me, huh princess?”

Before you can respond, Eddie’s already moved backward in the seat, nuzzling your belly on the way down to your pussy. He peels the ruined panties off of you, slathering your legs in your juices as he pulls them off and tosses the soaked fabric to the floor. Eddie rests on his elbows in front of your ass, and burrows his face between your legs.

Your fingers find his hair, tangling in Eddie’s wet mass of curls as he eats you. Heavy rain pummels the roof of Eddie’s van as his tongue bullies its way inside your pussy. It’s almost too much, the way he forces his tongue in and out of you. Eddie isn’t content with licking your clit; he literally has to fuck you with his mouth before he’s satisfied with his work. He knows from experience that you have the strongest orgasms when he pumps his tongue in and out of you like this, rubbing the tip against your g-spot, licking you from the inside out. Your hold tightens in Eddie’s hair, your cunt gripping his tongue as its thrusts continue.

Rutting yourself against his face, your clit bumps Eddie’s nose just as his tongue reaches the deepest place inside you yet. Your climax streaks through you like a bolt of lightning painting the sky, your creamy walls twisting and clenching around Eddie’s tongue. He grins into your cunt as you soak his face again, getting off on the vibrations of your orgasm he can feel through his tongue.

Eddie licks soft stripes up and down your pussy as your orgasm fades, pressing feather-light kisses onto your clit. “Good job, baby,” he says, lifting his head from between your legs. “I knew y’had another one in you…”💋

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aft3rhrs · 2 months

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cnc with step brother jungkook with breeding kink and maybe a lil free use 😇 plsplsplsplsplsplspls

this is... 😵‍💫 anyway 🩷

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: forbidden romance, step!siblings au

warnings: yandere, pseudo incest, mentions of violence (not towards the reader), cnc, free use, dirty talk, jealousy, possessiveness, praise, degradation, hints of exhibitionism, breeding kink, creampie, aftercare

It was quiet and warm inside the caravan. The chirping of insects and rustle of leafs outside were steadily replaced by rainfall, the hypnotic, repetitive tapping almost lulling you to sleep. Jungkook breathed softly against you, his arm thrown over your waist, making the most of the time he had to lay closer to you.

This was an inconvenience for one night only, your father promised.

There was no rush to reach your destination, and the weather started taking a turn for the worse. Rather than driving in a storm during nightfall, he announced an unplanned rest stop near the mountains; an idea his worn out wife wholeheartedly supported.

Courtesy of his own pocket, the caravan was spacious, up to the most modern standards, and the pull out beds comfortable, with fluffy pillows and thick sheets.

Unfortunately, there was only two of those.

But they were nearly wide enough to be considered doubles, so you and Jungkook wouldn't be squeezed together, he assured. You didn't mind, did you? You always got along so well, after all.

It was a wonderful thing for parents to witness. And whatever they didn't witness couldn't hurt them. In reality, they didn't know — no one knew — that Jungkook loved you a little too much.

Or what was concealed within your own heart.

At home, he had to sneak around to be with you. When out, he had to watch other men flirt with you, blatantly ignoring his presence, and the nights would either end with him breaking someone's bones or your bed.

It was tiring, having to hide his feelings. Not being able to hold your hand, kiss you, show you off; mark his territory. The weight of the secret was getting too heavy to hold, a boulder that seemed to graze all of Jungkook's insecurities. The stinging pain fed his obsession to unhealthy lengths.

So much that it wasn't a thought anymore, but a need that stirred in his body, a phantom that gained flesh and bones.

And it craved more flesh in return.

He didn't even notice when his hand moved to your ass, kneading and squeezing, but the hitch of your breath brought him back to reality.

The rain. The thunder. The caravan. Your parents, sound asleep in their bed, separated by no more than a few inches from yours.

His cock felt hot and stiff in his boxers, straining against the fabric, twitching as his fingertips brushed the hem of your underwear.

He brought his lips to your ear, sliding his hand down onto your thigh.

"Open," he breathed.

Your heart jumped, eyes stuck on your dad's silhouette, his back turned towards you.

"H-here?" you whispered, panic making your throat close up.

Jungkook nodded, his free hand crawling under your shirt.

"Yeah," he sighed, tapping your thigh. "Here."

You felt him grope you, thumb and forefinger twisting your nipple, the touch slow and sensual. Your spine arched like a bow, your heart strung tight and ready to shoot out. There was no way you could do this; not with your parents right there, sleeping in front of you.

Jungkook snuck his hand in between your thighs, prying them open. You gasped, fear spiked with arousal making your tummy clench tightly.

"Having trouble following instructions?" Jungkook asked, pulling your panties down. "Pussy and brain too empty?"

You couldn't hold back the noise in your throat, breathy and so needy it made the swollen tip of his cock start drooling. Wrapping his hand around the thick shaft, he pressed it against you, meeting zero resistance to the pressure.

You were so eager to be filled; so wet, throbbing and soft. Jungkook sank inside, mouth agape and eyes fluttering shut, stretching the little hole out lewdly.

"Oh," he huffed out, weak, "fuck yes."

He didn't know why he was getting so hot; in the shadows of a late, summer night, it wasn't like your parents would be able to see much, and the rainstorm wreaking havoc outside the windows was almost enough to drown out the squelch of his lazy strokes.

But the thought of sliding the sheets down a little — just like that — exposing your cute, puffy cunt swallowing his cock, making what he was doing all the more obvious, made him ache.

And so he did.

The second you startled, Jungkook grabbed your neck.

"Shut up," he whispered, "shut the fuck up and stay still. If you'll make noise, they'll wake up. And I'm gonna come either way, baby."

You hid your face in his neck, a whisper of a whine hitting his burning skin, and a clench halting his movements.

"Oh... Hah."

He tightened his grip on your thigh and held your leg up, thrusting slowly. It was a steady rhythm, more than enough to make him reach stars; fuck condoms and fuck pulling out tonight. He rarely got to come inside you, and right now he needed it more than ever.

"Yeah," he praised, his voice shaky, "just like that."

He released your neck in favor of sliding his hand down, his finger slipping onto your clit to rub it softly. Your nails dug into his arm, and it did nothing but make him groan.

"You like it, don't you? Gonna come inside you. Knock you the fuck up, right here."

Your pussy was tightening and so was the knot in his stomach. You were getting louder, but he didn't care; let them see. He didn't give a damn if your parents woke up and caught you. Perhaps that would finally motivate you to move away from here, start a new life somewhere where no one knew you, and your love didn't have to be a secret.

The same applied if you got pregnant... And there was no holding these thoughts back anymore. Not when he was literally fucking his little sister behind his parents' back, and her slutty cunt was trying to milk him dry.

"I can't," you whimpered into his neck, "N-no, I'm gonna—"

"Fuck yeah," he groaned.

His pace began to pick up, still soft, but impatient, the pad of his finger on your little nub even more so. He rubbed you faster, feeling your hips gyrating unconsciously and your warm pussy spasming.

"Good girl, yeah, take it. Gonna—" he swallowed thickly, breathless, "make me come... And let me breed you full, yeah? Let everyone see who you belong to, little whore."

Fuck, fuck — you were coming, and he had to assault your mouth to muffle the noise, including the hoarse moans spilling past his own lips. God, he could feel it — his eyebrows scrunching, the hot, tingling pleasure reaching a boiling point, his cock digging in as deep as it would go. It twitched, painting your walls white until his cum dribbled down your thighs.

For a moment, black dots danced in his vision. When he could breathe again, he tried to open his eyes, feeling the silk of the sheets touching his sweaty skin. A chuckle escaped him as you snuggled into him, covering up your bodies. You were so cute. So fucking precious.

"You okay? Was it good, baby?" He murmured, nuzzling your neck.

All rhetorical questions, if his smug tone was anything to go by.

You shivered, too fucked out to answer. Jungkook sighed, peppering your shoulder with kisses. His palm absentmindedly caressed your abdomen, and thunder rolled through the sky, the wind whistling faintly outside the caravan.

Good trip.

He had a whole week to fuck you full; in the backseat, in your tents, in the woods. And he'd go at it all night, and teach you to take it quietly... Just in case. Just for now.

Fighting the urge to sleep, he fished out his phone and squinted at the dim screen, opening up a search engine, while his hand still massaged your tummy.

They'd probably have nice apartments somewhere in Seoul... And you could transfer to a better college.

Seemed like a perfect place to start looking.

Just in case. Just for now.

#yandere bts #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts smut #bts reactions #bts imagines #bts scenarios #jungkook smut

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rikigai · 1 month

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my pretty boy — sim jaeyun

pairing: boyfriend!jake x afab!reader

genre(s): fluff

content/warning: reader sits on jake's lap, petnames (pretty, princess, baby), kissing, skinship

word count: 598

author's note: i got this idea from the selca jake posted on weverse recently. i love his hair, someone keep the scissors away ㅠㅠ hope u enjoy reading! lmk if i missed any warnings and this is also not proofread

the faint sound of rainfall seeping into the room from the outside with jake’s spotify playlist playing in the background, jake was laid back onto the bed you shared. he’d just gotten home from work and was exhausted. walking into the room as you slowly pushed the door that led inside, you see him plopped onto the mattress with his back rested against the headboard. you shuffled towards the sight of your tired boyfriend.

jake’s eyes felt heavy, slowly shutting as his head titled to the side. his quite long, grown-out hair fell across his face, covering half of it as he continued to lay there. you climb onto his lap, pushing the strands of hair that covered his endearing eyes, which were now closed, prominent nose, and soft cheeks you love to kiss. “my baby’s tired” you hummed, admiring your boyfriend. he nodded, half asleep. your hands continued to run through his silky hair, seeing how long it had grew.

you leaned in on him, resting your head on his broad shoulders. jake shifted his body a bit so that you two could lie in a more comfortable position. he laid straight down onto the mattress and you were now on top of his chest. you could hear him breathing and his heart beating under the soft cashmere sweater he wore.

“i missed you, princess” jake mumbled, lifting his hand and placing it on your body which laid right on top him. he rubbed your back a few times before he propped it by your waist. “reallyy?” you replied, giggling as your cheeks flushed a tint of pink. “mhmm” he said. with your hands still playing with his hair, you twirled it around your fingers, braided it, and combed through it, yet he never said a thing. jake never complained, he enjoyed it actually. he loved having his girlfriend around and most especially feeling her comforting touch.

you turned your head around, catching a sight of the bedside table that had a clock sitting on it. the clock read 22:05 ‘it’s ten pm??’ you thought to yourself, slowly lifting your body away from jake’s. it was getting late and neither you nor jake had eaten dinner yet, you knew you had to get up and get cooking. right before your foot hit the ground, getting ready to stand up, jake tugged onto the top you wore, pulling you back down onto him. he hugged you, locking you with two of his arms around your frame. “where you going?” he asked you. “jakeyy~ i’m gonna cook us dinner, it’s getting late” you said, trying to wiggle your way out of his arms. “can we stay like this pleasee~ just for a bit” jake responded. you knew you couldn’t say no. you stopped attempting to get your way out of his hug and stayed laying on the soft bed with him as the rain continued to pour outside.

seconds, minutes, and hours had passed by and it was now 00:00, midnight. you and jake were still there, intertwined. you had fallen asleep on jake as he watched you doze off.

“my sleepy princess” jake cooed, placing a peck on your cheek and then on your forehead. jake pulled the fluffy white duvet that stretched across the bed over the two of you. he didn’t think you’d hear him but then he saw a smile on your face. you face him, opening your puffy eyes as you had just woken up. “my pretty boy” you replied, staring into jake’s eyes that glistened as the dim light reflected onto his eyes.

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swamyworld · 20 days

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heavy rainfall in these states as IMD Rain Severe heat wave Alert in northwest India till May 22 - India Hindi News

heavy rainfall alert: The India Meteorological Department (IMD) on Saturday said that severe heat is expected to continue in the plains of northwest India for the next five days. According to IMD, the same extreme heat conditions are expected to continue in eastern and central India for the next three days. The Meteorological Department said that many areas of Rajasthan, Punjab, Haryana,…

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starillusion13 · 2 months

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hii there!! hope you doing well >_<!!

can i request for poly mafia ateez x reader fic? their boss are dead for 2 years and they just found out that he has a daughter. and they began to search for her n when they found her, they swear to her that they will take care of her, but ended up falling in love with her?

thank you so much!!! ;)))

To keep you safe

Pairing: Mafia!ot8! Ateez x f!reader

W.C: 3.3k

Genre: Fluff, Mafia, Romance

Warnings: mention of mafia deals, attempt to murder, blast, tracking device, spying on someone, tying up with rope in warehouse, unconcious, poison, feeling sorry, sad, comfort from mafias, lots of kissing, getting shot, mention of blood(not detail), confession, hidden daughter, scared idk what to add anymore

Network: @kvanity-main

A girl running in the rain, clutching her purse to her chest and heavily breathing while frantically looking in every direction. Her scared pupils and parted lips allowed the heavy and forced inhale and exhale of air, raindrops sliding into her mouth. Her heels were almost making her lose her balance, she didn't want to fall down or she would get caught.

The rainfall intensified with loud growling sounds of lightning. The only thing that was going through her mind was to run away from the two men following her. She took a sharp turn around the road and hid behind the car.

Pressing her palms over the mouth and wide eyes stared at the distant road ahead. Her house was still a few blocks away and the feeling of dizziness returned but she scooted into the darkness and suppressed her fear and the sound of her panting.

Soon, within a few minutes, the footsteps came into her vision. Two silhouettes making their way towards the alleyway and in fact, that needs to cross the car which was hiding her scared form. A series of hope and prayers rushed to her mind and fell from the lips and mentally supported herself to stay stronger.

The scared pupils followed each step they took. The moment they stopped and looked at her direction, her breath hitched and cursed under the breath when she noticed them coming towards her exact direction. But before she could shift an inch, someone pressed their palms over her ears from behind and then she could hear the sound of two faint gunshots.

"It's okay, y/n. you are safe."

The soft voice from behind you and the stranger's hands touching your skin made your eyes shoot open and you shuffled forward, keeping your distance from the person. The first instinct in you worked was to look over to the place where two men from earlier were but to your surprise, there was no one. You stood up from your place and quickly stepped out of the darkness and you screamed.

Two bodies were lying on the road. The two men who were following you while you were returning from the café were lying on their own blood pool.

"Hey, calm down."

The same voice again spoke up and you quickly looked behind to see a boy, maybe around your age, was standing with a little smile but to the contrast of his facial look, his outfit was different, oh the gun holder strap on his waist and the belt designed over his black jacket. He looked scary with an angel face.

"Who are you? Are you going to kill me? and and how do you know my name?"

He nodded to himself before taking a few steps forward but before he could walk any farther, you yelled at him to stop and the way you were scared, he instantly stopped. There were few other footsteps coming from both of your sides. One, two...three...seven figures appeared under the streetlight. The rain was still pouring but it was less intense than before as if it had also got scared by these men.

"Who are you all? What is going on?"

The boy who was standing a few feet away from you smiled again and introduced himself, "myself Yeosang. We are just here to take you back home."

"home? I don't understand what you are saying." You were pleading with him not to hurt you and a different boy from the seven figures surrounding you but keeping a safe distance from you spoke up, "there's nothing to be scared of, y/n. you are Mr. Lee's daughter and we are here to take you to his place."

They know my dad...they are here to kidnap me to know about my dad's business but......he is dead and I can't ask for help from him. I don't know anything about his mafia business.

"I don't know. I am not close to my dad. He is dead. What else do you all want now? I know nothing about him. Please, I am telling you the truth. You won't get to know anything from me about him. I really don't know."

"We know he is dead. That's why we are here to ensure your safety. We are here because your dad isn't there to protect you." The tallest one of them spoke up.

You shook your head and stepped back when the dizziness from earlier returned. It did get noticed by the oldest one of them and he caught your limp body, "y/n, it's raining. Let's go home and then we can discuss everything."

You pushed him from you and stood straight on your heels, "no, I'm not going anywhere. I can't trust you. You all are lying."

"Didn't your dad tell you about the leaders of his organization?"

" he did..."

"We are the leaders of the organization, the most trusted gang of your father, Ateez."

You stared at them because the name is familiar but why to take you to somewhere you never went before. Your life was always at risk and that's why your dad kept you hidden but maybe his death led to uncovering your identity to other mafia gangs. But if they are the leaders under your father's organization, that does mean they are on your father's side.

"you all are my dad's men?" you asked in a low voice. The drizzling rain was pinching your skin, should you trust them or not. The thought was itching your mind.

"We might be mafias but we are always loyal to our boss. Please come with us." The leader extended his hand with a smile.

And you trusted them.

Taking the leader's hand and grabbing it with a hope to be safe.

You never thought ever that this was going to change your trajectory of your whole life.

“We are here to keep you safe.”

>>>><<<<

In the bustling city, amidst the towering skyscrapers and bustling streets, there existed a huge, tightly-knit advertising agency called "THE GUERRILAS". For two years, the agency had been led by a charismatic and respected boss, Mr. Lee Sohyun. His sudden demise due to a heart attack had left his men and the successive leaders reeling with shock and grief. Among them, Ateez, his loyal gang and the main future successors took the initiative to take over his place with announcing their gang leader as the new boss, who all had worked closely with him for over a decade. Every other being in the company supported the idea and welcomed the new project of the company.

As the agency mourned their loss, Ateez stumbled upon a startling revelation buried within Mr. Lee's personal documents – he had a daughter, Lee y/n, from a previous relationship. Despite his private nature, he had never mentioned the daughter to anyone at the agency. Determined to honor their late boss's memory and fulfill his unspoken wishes, Ateez embarked on a mission to find his daughter.

“I didn’t know he had a daughter.” Seonghwa stated while looking at the documents presented by his gang member, Yeosang.

The leader, Hongjoong nodded, “He really hid her well but after his death. Many men betrayed him and leaked his personal information and the least we can do is to start with protecting his daughter.”

“Then let’s find Y/n. I hope we can bring her safely.”

Months of diligent investigation led them to a quaint town in the upstate, where you resided.

Their several initial attempts were failed missions.they certainly didn’t want to scare you but also not to give up in their enemy’s hand. So, they planned to approach you slowly and cautiously.

Unless that day when you were followed by members of an enemy gang and they saved you from danger.

And that day you accepted a new fate in your life.

Moved by Ateez's sincerity and touched by their efforts to connect with you, a wave of emotions hit your heart. Over cups of tea, you delved into heartfelt conversations with them, sharing memories and anecdotes about your father. Despite their vastly different backgrounds, you found solace in their company, united by the love for the man who had brought them together.

you listened intently to their explanation of the situation after your father's death, your emotions oscillating between disbelief and curiosity. As they shared anecdotes about your father's life and their time together at the agency, a bittersweet realization dawned on you – finally found a piece of your father's past that had long eluded.

"You don't have to be polite or formal with us. Think of us as your friends. You are our boss's daughter." The young boy smiled at you.

You chuckled, "Wooyoung, I'm trying. I think it would take time but this new place and new people and even staying with you all is such a new experience for me."

"You can come to me anytime. I am always here to accompany you and make you feel at home."he said and brushed his hair back. He glanced at you, who was smiling admiring the beauty of the garden. "Do you want to take your father's position?"

The question caught your attention and quickly turned towards him, you noticed him avoiding your gaze and gulping, "No." The answer was direct and simple.

He again questioned you, "why? Don't you think you are the actual successor of the boss?"

"I don't know a single shit about this life and also, I trust Hongjoong. You all proved your loyalty to my dad. You swear my protection and extend his hard work. So, you all are the actual successors." He nodded at your words.

"No cursing from a pretty girl." Yunho approached you two and handed over a sweater to you. You looked at him with a questionable look.

He held the sweater in front of you and urged you to put your hand inside the sleeves, "don't catch cold in the early morning while wearing just a full sleeve shirt. And Woo, can't you wear a full sleeve?"

The said man rolled his eyes at the tall one and sat on the bench with crossed legs, "I will be off to gym in half an hour. No need."

Yunho placed his hand on your shoulder, "would you mind a little walk with me?"

"Of course not. I would love to explore the neighborhood."

Days turned into weeks, weeks into months and you found yourself drawn to their warmth and resilience. You admired their strength in the face of adversity and their unwavering determination to carve out their own path in life and also protect you in the process.

In your presence, they discovered a sense of belonging they had never experienced before.

As their bond deepened with you, they grappled with conflicting emotions they never thought possible. They had sworn to themselves that they would take care of you, but their feelings for you were evolving into something more profound and complicated. Torn between their loyalty to the late boss and their burgeoning love for you, they found themselves at a crossroads.

"Surprise!"

The boys in the living room turned towards the voice. You were exiting the grand space of the kitchen area with a huge cake in your hold. Carefully, placing it on the table in front of them, you placed your hand on your hips and waited for their remarks.

The leader was the first person to tune in with the surprise, "what's a cake for?"

"You all did well on your last mission and for the past few days, all of you were busy so I decided to bake a cake for you all today as I noticed none of you left the house. No work?" You expectantly looked at them.

They exchanged a few glances between them and before Wooyoung could say something, Seonghwa smiled and got up from the chair. The royalty of the grand hall of the mansion was sitting right with his rich mafia look even in just a plain black shirt and pants. He approached you and patted your head, "we don't have work today. Do you have something to say? Or to do something?"

You nodded and turned towards the rest of them, "have a taste of my most ordered cake. Before moving in with you all, I used to work at the cafe in my previous place. And people requested this cake everyday."

"Really? Then we should taste it. We are getting the privilege to have a demanding item without showing our powers." The leader said between his endearment of tasting your cake. You cut them a few pieces and waited for their reviews.

They hummed in the delicious taste of the soft cake and you got a collective of compliments.

Yunho was the first person to ask for another piece, you happily cut him one. He watched your happiness. The way you reacted to each of their compliments, the nervousness and feelings shy but still managing to keep yourself steady.

Yeosang proposed the idea that they should open a cafe near their place where you can train some workers and also be able to have some time to spend in a different atmosphere other than staying at the mansion. Jongho supported the idea.

Mingi raised the topic of your safety but San volunteered to check on you often and won't let anything happen to you.

>>>><<<<

The idea did come to light and led to action. You got work to keep yourself busy when they are not around but this definitely lured a danger.

Someone kept a watch on you. The strange feeling was creeping in your skin but you neglected it with the thought that San might be somewhere out of sight and spying on the place for a possible danger.

Once when you went to the mall with Mingi and Jongho, you got bumped into a person and got a scratch on your arm with a sharp object.

"Are you okay, y/n?" Mingi's concerned voice appeared and held your arm. "Why is it bleeding? What happened?"

"Might have scratched something. Don't worry, it will heal soon."

Well your assurance was not enough for him. The way he handled you around the mall, asking you whether you're uncomfortable or wanted something. You wanted a chill hangout not both of them to worry about you.

But the beautiful time you all were having got disturbed when you suddenly fell unconscious. They both were shocked but reacted quickly to take you to the medical wing of their base.

You were poisoned by that scratch. But it couldn't affect much and spread properly. You were under threat and needed more protection and they made sure of it.

"San, people are assuming you as my boyfriend at this point." You groaned after pushing open the door to your cafe. He rolled his eyes behind you and glared when he noticed a young boy staring at you both entering together.

He pulled a chair and sat near the counter where you were placing the things to start the day. "I don't care about their opinions. Your safety comes first. And-"

"Hey! I guess, I'm invited inside the cafe too." Jongho entered the cafe and winked at the man sitting. You nodded, "of course you are."

He didn't have any schedule for the day so opted for hanging out in the cafe. You turned towards San and asked for him to complete what he was saying but he shook his head.

The days went normal, nothing to worry about. Everything was going as usual.

"You three are also leaving?" You pout and lean back to the table. They chuckled at your reaction and Seonghwa approached you, patting your head with an adorable smile, "we will be back soon. And Yeosang will be here to accompany you."

"Can't you stay together every time? Or like take me with you all."

"No!" The leader put aside the black leather jacket and held your shoulder, "we are not risking your life. There's always danger. We won't be able to control ourselves if something happens to you."

"Oh...but I feel scared for you all too. Just take care of yourselves. I am not strong enough to protect you all but......atleast I can pray for you." You felt so useless and a burden on them but Yunho quickly chimed into the conversation.

"Don't think of yourself lowl. You are our strength. We come back home and do our best and succeed in our missions with the hope that a beautiful soul and a precious girl is waiting for us. Your trust in us is everything we need to be strong out there."

Yunho is always the one to ensure that you are valuable and worth the effort they make to protect you. His warm embraces really make you believe that,

You are in love. You are at home.

The leader is always impressed by his words and also reminds you that their biggest possession is you.

"No other expensive material in the household or in the universe can be worth your value." Hongjoong and his exaggerated explanations.

Seonghwa is the one who would treat you like a porcelain doll, as if you are his daughter. Well let's not be weird with this thought. He is someone to ensure your wellbeing now and then.

"You are safe with us princess. No one can hurt you ever."

To his addition, San will buy you everything possible just in case you are not happy with something. Once when a worker pointed out you as a spoiled girlfriend and called you ‘gold digger’, he took matters in hand.

Grabbing his collar and glaring at him as if he could burn him alive and bury him there, "of course you don't have the courage or power to spoil her. But your dirty mouth can spoil her ears. And I don't like when some bugs are near her."

This is not the end, Jongho is not the one to show his emotions often but you have always liked his goofy nature with you but the majority of the time when you go out with him, he is the most mature and serious one as if he is doubting every individual glancing at you.

"I think he is spying on us." He murmured.

"You are looking around the restaurant in a way as if you want to order the rest of the items on the menu card. That's why he is staring at us." You started and went back to eating.

Mingi is the one who is always volunteering to go out with you because according to him, he fights well. So if someone attacks then he could fight back and take you back home safely. He is sometimes a bit controlling like Yunho but rest, you love his company.

"No, we are going back home. No more talking back. I'm your protector and the mafia member so you have to listen to me now."

The most important one to mention, Wooyoung. His professional side and the side with you are just opposites. Well this settles with all of them.

He encourages you to try new stuff, teaches you some self defense and also the one to try out pranks on others. You always grew up alone and wanted someone like him to be your friend and once you shared this feeling with him. You are now beautifully cursed with his presence.

"Do you want to know how to shoot?"

"No no please, that is the most intriguing thing to me but I'm okay with not knowing it's working."

He rolled his eyes, "don't be dramatic. It will help you."

"You all are here for me and... ...I..I love- I love how you are mafia members but have individual personalities that protects me and keeps me safe. Moreover, you all make me feel loved by a family."

"We are your family."

They all say this everyday. And today is not an exception.

Yeosang was on his laptop. You wanted to go out but he was too busy to even notice that. Not to make him mad, you scolded yourself for thinking to go out behind his back.

"Is it okay if I have a quick trip to the convenience store?......please."

He looked up from the screen, "what do you need, let me bring it for you."

"No. I just want to go out because others haven't been at home for the last three days and as you are alone I'm not allowed out of this house."

Yeosang always stays back or tries to be the member to protect you while all others are needed on a particular situation or missions.

He chuckled and got up, "let's go. We can have the trip together."

Before arriving at the store, you both didn't ever imagine the incident that was about to happen.

As soon as you stepped inside the sliding glass door, he got a call and excused himself to a side and you were humming a song to yourself while searching for the items needed.

Then everyone heard a gunshot. Screams and footsteps erupted from inside and he quickly went to your direction behind the shelf where his eyes followed earlier but to his dislike, you were not there. The back door was open and he saw a black car leaving the place.

He quickly dialed Hongjoong's number to let him know about the situation and to come to the location quickly which he would send them soon. He borrowed the computer at the counter of the store and filled in the inputs with codes and required data and he followed a particular car's location from all the CCTV footage of the road of the tracking device and also his phone was tracking your ring, which has a high-tech induced chip.

Within a few moments Ateez reached the desired location, well they were not in a mood to come across the familiar place but still they had to when you are here.

Barging inside the place, an intense fight between both the mafia gangs started. San went to search for you, a bullet almost passed through his arm but fortunately he could avoid it but still he got injured slightly.

There, you were tied to a rusted metal chair and sitting unconsciously. He was quick to untie your ropes and held in his embrace while placing himself on the dirty floor. It doesn't matter, the important thing is for you to be safe.

"Y/n...you are safe."

You blinked your eyes open, first he noticed your scared pupils like he saw them on the first day but it quickly turned into soft and tears brimmed in. You were securely protected by his embrace on his lap.

The others entered the room and found you in that condition and they felt relieved that you were safe. They surrounded your figure, some praising you and some asking you if the enemies hurt you somewhere.

Even though you were denying, none was fully convinced.

No one blamed you.

“I’m sorry…I should’ve listened to you all.”

Hongjoong knelt in front of you and cupped your face, “it’s okay. We should protect you more. Just stay with us and don’t leave us ever. We are going to risk ourselves to protect you, the daughter of our boss.”

You held his wrist and shook your head, “Call me yours. Say you will protect me because I’m yours. Because you all don’t want to lose me.”

“Y/n…you are more precious than you think you are.” he said and pecked your forehead with adoration in his eyes.

Seonghwa knelt beside the leader and held your hand comfortingly, pressing a soft kiss on it. San shifted your body to make you feel comfortable in his hold. “Just know one thing, we love you not because you are his daughter but we are in love with you. We fell in love with an innocent girl.”

“I fell in love too……with you all.” you murmured and thought no one heard it except the three near you but you were so wrong because there was a boost feeling in the rest of them after hearing you. San kissed the crown of head and whispered, “I love you so much, y/n. It hurts whenever I see danger around you.”

Yunho was quick to sweep you off the floor and you squealed in surprise, “well, Tiny. as far as I want to show you my love for you right now. This place is making me anxious. Let’s go home.”

“To my safe place.” hearing your sweet words, he kissed the tip of your nose. Jongho smiled reassuringly at you that even if enemies are trying to hurt you, they would rescue you but now as they know that the complicated feelings of theirs have been solved after the mutual acceptance, they won't be leaving your side ever.

When you all were about to step out of the room, a man held a gun towards Yunho, at you in his grip. He clenched his jaw but before anyone could process anything, Mingi was quick to hold his gun towards the man and stepped forward Yunho, hiding you both with his large frame and shot the man.

He turned around and smirked, “now this is more fun to kill people because of you.”

You turned your face to the other side and could hear others laugh, “keep that shit away.”

“No cursing, tiny.”

Mingi caressed your head before planting a kiss to the side, “you should at least know how to use it.”

Wooyoung led the way out of the warehouse and kept in check of any possible danger in their way.

Entering the car, you sat between Wooyoung and Yeosang when the youngest one of them entangled his hands with yours and you looked at him with a surprise, “hm?” he pressed a kiss on your cheek, “thanks for trusting us in your father’s place.”

“Thanks for keeping me safe like he did.”

“Even my shadow will protect you forever and my love will guide you back to home.” he put his head on your shoulder.

“ I know.”

When you turned to the other side, Yeosang was already staring at you and when he caught your eyes, he smiled, “I didn’t imagine this is how we would be confessing our feelings. But thanks for letting us know that you care for us too, like your dad.”

“I was so scared today. Because of all the lurking danger, I hated to be in this mafia life and my dad hid me from this dark side of the world but thanks to you all for saving me from the lonely world out there after his death. When I thought that today I’m going to die, the only last hope I had was one of you to save me. And you did. All of you did.”

He nodded and patted his shoulder, you obligingly leaned your head on it and he caressed your head softly, “we are always here to keep you safe and to love you forever.”

With cautious optimism, you all embarked on a journey of self-discovery and love, navigating the complexities of the newfound relationship with courage and resilience. Together, you forged a bond that transcended time and circumstance, proving that love could blossom in the most unexpected of places.

As you watched the view outside hand in hand, gazing at the stars above from the window of the car, all of you knew that love was a testament to the enduring power of connection and the infinite possibilities that awaited on the horizon. In each other's arms, you found solace, strength, and the courage to embrace the beautiful uncertainties of life's journey.

After all, you did the right thing. Accepting the extended hand of the leader and being inside the boundary of protection and love.

Note: please I want to thanks to people for reading and reblogging. Reviews are always appreciated. Spread love not hate. If my favoritism is showing with some members then please try to understand oz they are my bias.

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