i love the kbd universe so so much! could you please do one where sweet little bethie (☹️) has been getting a hard time from other kids at school/nursery for being ‘weird’/‘different’ and how steve and reader would handle it?? sorry if that’s too specific my lovely! hope you’re having a good day!! 🫶
thank you!! kbd au —steve employs your help when your daughter needs a pep talk. 1.5k
“Why’s my girl so sad?”
“I’m not sad.”
Steve raises his brows at Beth. She looks especially like you when she’s down. It’s sort of sad, thinking about it, how her lips turn like yours would, how she won’t meet his gaze or hold his hand when he tries to intertwine their fingers.
“Aw, honey, don’t tell me tall tales,” he says, no actual scolding in his tone. He sees the shimmer of tears aligned on her bottom lashes and can’t abide her fibs anymore, scooping her off of the couch and into his arms. “Bethieeeee,” he whines, “tell me what’s wrong! You know I hate not knowing everything about you.”
“Dad,” she says, letting her head loll in the curve of his neck, “nothing is wrong.”
Liar, he thinks. From the kitchen he can hear you and Dove and baby Wren singing. Avery potters around in the downstairs bathroom, humming. Steve knows Beth is sad, because Beth is quiet, but she still has as much energy as the rest of her sisters when she’s home. She isn’t introverted when she’s with him, or her mother, and especially not the best big sister in the world.
“Okay,” he says. He should poke and prod. Instead, he lifts her up as high as he can, which, not to brag, is quite high. “Hi up there. How’s the weather?”
She jabs him in the chest with her foot. “It’s windy.”
Steve laughs like an idiot and brings her down for some adoring kisses. “Super windy. Babe, you get funnier and funnier everyday.”
She wraps her arms behind his head. “Thank you.”
“Ooh, you’re welcome. Should we go and sing some songs with mommy?”
Beth shakes her head. “No.”
“No?”
“No.” She sounds like a baby.
Steve sits down with an arm behind her back. He’d quite like a bit of peace and quiet. He doesn’t mind if she needs some too. “Then let’s stay right here, bub, jus’ me and you.”
Dustin once said that Steve was about as much use as a paper cup in a hurricane when it came to comforting people, but that was nearly a decade ago, and it was before he met you. You rushed into Steve’s life (by accident on both sides) and showed him how it felt to be properly looked after for the first time ever. He can’t forget how that felt. Robin loves him but she couldn’t love him like that, couldn’t kiss a bruise and fix it whole, couldn’t ease a migraine with her fingers in his hair. You touch Steve’s arm and he can lift a ten tonner.
He’s more equipped than ever to comfort someone now. He had a good teacher.
“You have a long day today, huh?” he asks.
“Not much.”
He smiles. “Not much long?” he asks.
“Dad,” she grumbles. “You know what I mean.”
“I do… so you didn’t find it too long?”
“I guess.” Beth touches under his chin. “You have sharpies.”
“My stubble? Should I shave tonight?”
“Yes,” she says emphatically. “Don’t like scratchy kisses.”
“Oh, so you wanted more kisses?” he asks. “Would that help you feel better? How about we meet in the middle and get mom to kiss you? She’s not so sharp.”
She sighs, her nose shoved into his collar. “Dad, can you rub my back?”
Steve rubs her back immediately. She makes no other request, lips firmly shut and secret upset sealed away, feeling at his stubble with gentle fingers. She loves foreign sensations like this. It’s why she likes having her back rubbed, Steve theories; the pressure of his hand on her spine is dragging, and grounding.
He shifts against the grain of a cushion behind his back.
“I want to tell you,” Bethie says finally.
“I always want to listen,” he promises.
She doesn’t sound teary, more uncomfortable as she finally forces it out, “Nobody at school likes me.”
“Babe, that’s not true at all.”
“It is true. They all think I’m weird.”
“I bet they don’t, babe.”
“Dad, they all say it.”
Steve bites his cheek as his mouth snaps shut. “Well,” he says quietly, cupping the side of her face, encouraging her head back to meet her eyes. They’re big in her little face, pupils like pearls, “that’s not very nice.”
“It’s true.”
“Not true.”
“It is true,” she says angrily.
“It’s not true, Beth, you’re not weird, and if you are weird then I’m weird, and that’s not a bad thing after all. Is it?”
Internally, it breaks his heart. Beth has been different than the other kids for a long time and in lots of ways. She’s picky, peculiar. She eats things in her own fashion, and has interests outside of her peers. Steve didn’t know she was ‘abnormal’ until people started telling him —she’s his second baby. He didn’t think they were all the same, and so didn’t question her differences, and still doesn’t care to beyond wondering what he can do to make her happy. Who cares if Beth eats two bites of sandwich for every celery stick?
The other kids. Some parents.
“I don’t want to be weird,” she says, hanging her head.
You arrive like a well-timed miracle, shimmying past the half open door with a smile. “Hi, guys. I want you to come and do karaoke, what do you think? I’m making everybody mocktails! We’re having pineapple juice and–” You lean back, hand on your hip, a slip of your stomach peaking out of your tank top, total picture of a cool mom as you cross your naked arms over your stomach. “Oh, no. What’s wrong?” you ask teasingly.
Steve squeezes Beth to his neck. “Hey, none of your business!”
“No, tell me,” you say, crossing the room to sit beside them on the couch.
“You wanna tell her?” Steve asks.
Beth shakes her head. “Didn’t want to tell you, dad.”
“You did, lovely,” he says, all sympathy as you cuddle up to Steve’s side and wrap an arm around them both. “You said you wanted to tell me. It’s okay if you don’t want to tell us again, though. Mommy just wants to make you feel better, right?”
“Right,” you say. When you smile at her, it’s with all the love in the world.
She’s quicker to cry in her mother’s lap. She wiggles closer to your shoulder, her voice fraught as she confesses, “Everybody at school says I’m weird,” and erupts into breathless sobbing, like she’s terrified of the idea.
Your eyes wrinkle as you close them tight, frowning into the top of her head. “Oh, my poor girl. My baby. Please don’t cry, because that’s not true. You’re not weird.”
“Everybody says I am!”
“I’m sorry,” you say, pushing Steve away accidentally as you wrap her into a proper hug. “Who says that?”
“Mom, it’s everyone. Even my friends.”
Kids can be so mean, when they aren’t trying and when they are. You mumble sweet placatives, fingers running up and down the length of Beth’s shuddering back. She cries like she’s hurting. Steve’s reminded of the time she fell down the stairs and hit her face on the baby gate, she was shocked but more urgently in pain, and she couldn’t work out why she’d fallen.
“That’s not nice, Beth,” you’re saying, “I’m so sorry they’re saying mean things about you, but you’re not weird, I don’t know why they’d say something like that. They’re just not as nice as my girl.”
“I’m different,“ she says.
“That’s not a bad thing, Beth. You’re perfect. I wouldn’t want you any other way, and neither would your dad.”
Steve jumps in. “Right! We like you like this, babe. I don’t want you to change, I don’t care what all the meanies at school say, me and mom think you’re awesome. Avery and Dove and Wren all think you’re the best sister and best friend ever. Avery’s your best friend. Has she ever called you weird?”
The baby talk is sinking in. If you used your bubbly voices on Avery it might not work anymore, but Beth is just about young enough for it to take. “No… You really think I’m not weird?” Beth asks sadly.
No kid wants to think they’re weird, even if they are, and even if that’s okay.
You sink down into your seat, taking Beth with you. Steve has to fight to cuddle you both. “I know you’re not,” you say.
For a good five minutes, you just hug her. Steve ends up laying his cheek against your temple, hand on Beth’s back so she knows he’s there. When the baby starts babbling loudly for you to come back, Steve takes the short straw and leaves you both for cuddling.
“What’s up, dad?” Avery asks, standing on a chair by the baby’s high chair, feeding her youngest sister cut up strawberries on a spoon. Dove eats her own strawberries with sliced bananas and peanut butter, the evidence of the latter staining her blue t-shirt.
Steve pats the top of Avery’s head. “Nothing much, baby. I’ve come to make you your mocktail.”
“Oh, yes! With sugar? Bethie loves the sugar.”
She doesn’t know how glad he is that she’s Beth’s big sister. “With the sugar.”
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ateez as incubi
seonghwa ~ in your sleep, you had the most vivid and pleasurable dream of your life. you had a mysterious man between your legs, face buried in your pussy, clit between his lips. upon waking up, the fantasy didn’t end. you stirred hazily, moaning at the imagined sensation in your clit. it became a little too vivid, however, when you felt a long tongue slither inside of you. you looked down, seeing that the man was real, and he was still working your pussy dutifully. you knew you should have felt scared, but somehow the only thing you said was, “don’t stop.” this caused the man to chuckle against you. “don’t you worry, doll,” he said, “you’re so delicious, i’ll never get enough.”
hongjoong ~ when you awoke from your restless sleep, you had tears running down your cheeks. there was a sheen of sweat across your body and a dull throbbing between you legs. at first everything was hazy and confusing, but then you heard your demon’s voice break the silence of the night and it all came together. “what’s wrong, little baby?” he mocked from your bedside where he pervertedly observed your plight. “do you need me so bad? these fingers, this dick? tell me how much you need me.”
yunho ~ you woke up to your walls being stretched open by something ice cold. you realized it didn’t hurt because you were already soaking wet somehow. then you realized the handsome man slowly materializing on top of you, eyes locked on yours, hips sliding carefully closer. you groaned as he filled you up entirely, hands moving with a mind of their own as they reached to hold onto the man’s shoulders. “it’s so big,” you moaned. the man smirked, hips beginning to fuck in and out of you. “you know, i can make it even bigger, if you think this little pussy can handle it.”
yeosang ~ you were grinding against your mattress, a rhythmic flow of moans and whimpers echoing in your room as you dreamt of yeosang. in your dream, he was all over you - tongue down your throat, face in your pussy, and dick pounding into your soaking heat. “there you go,” dream yeosang whispered, “make yourself feel good, my darling.” your eyes slowly opened and for a moment you were utterly disappointed about losing your dream. that was, until you realized yeosang was lying right beside you, urging you on further, “don’t stop, baby, i want to see you make yourself cum.”
san ~ you opened your eyes when you heard a familiar voice filling your bedroom with sweet, soothing melodies. “sannie?” you called, sitting up and rubbing your eyes. “good morning, sweetheart,” he smiled cheerfully. you smiled in return, but groaned when you felt a throbbing ache in your clit. “it hurts again,” you said. that pain always seemed to return when san stopped by to visit. “i know, angel,” he cooed, placing his icy cold hands on your thighs and rubbing them gently. “do you need sannie to take care of it for you?”
mingi ~ “get up,” a deep voice commanded, awaking you from your dreams. you shot up and scanned your bedroom for intruders. sure enough, he was there staring down at you, and he was mad. “mingi?” you said softly. “what’s wro-” he cut you off: “where have you been for the last week?” your heart sank. he was really mad. it struck no fear in you, just stirred up butterflies in your stomach. “i-i was on vacation, i’m sorry i forgot to tell you.” mingi scoffed. “vacation… you’ve been naughty for the last time, do you understand?” you couldn’t hold your smile back, thrilled for what mingi might have in store for your punishment.
wooyoung ~ the last thing you expected to see when you first opened your eyes was a dick inches from your face. but that’s what you got, and you weren’t complaining. “suck it,” wooyoung demanded. having just woken up, you were a little slow to register what was going on. getting impatient, wooyoung reached out to stroke your jaw, thumb landing on your chin and gently pushing your mouth open. “i said suck it for me, baby.”
jongho ~ you awoke when you heard someone calling your name in a singsong voice. you looked around your room expecting to see him there, but he wasn’t. “jongho?” you whispered. suddenly, there was a strong hand wrapped around your throat, pressing gently on your airway. you grabbed his wrist, and then he became visible. jongho was floating just above your mattress, staring intensely into your wide eyes. he lowered himself so he was straddling you and strengthened his grip around your neck. “please,” he scoffed, “don’t look so scared. i can smell how wet you are from here.”
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Could you please write seventeen reaction to sharing a bed with their crush for the first time? TYSM 😚
seventeen sharing a bed with their crush for the first time
-> pairing : svt × gn!reader
-> words count : 1.5k words
-> genre : fluff
-> author's note : i looove these cute asks about seventeen, they're taking me ages to write because 13 members is a lot but i hope you'll like it anyway !
-> sorry if I made any mistakes, english is not my first language.
-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated !
-> masterlist | svt masterlist
CHOI SEUNGCHEOL
shy and giggly the whole time.
he’s obviously making sure you’re not uncomfortable about this before slipping into bed with you.
he’ll try so hard to stay still and not touch you without you explicitly telling him that it’s okay.
but anyway, you’ll wake up in the morning cuddled up against him, with his arms around your waist because he unconsciously pulled you close to him during the night.
a human heater, you don’t even need the blanket lmao
YOON JEONGHAN
he would try to make some jokes about how you’re trying to get on his bed but deep down he’s screaming and freaking out, hands shaking as he’s handing you another blanket so that you’re not cold.
at the end of the day though, jeonghan is a softie who just wants to love and to be loved so he just can’t wipe out the smile on his face as you settle by his side.
i’m a firm believer that he loves when someone plays with his hair, and if you do it to help him sleep, his heart will start beating like crazy.
basically, you just get to see his soft and sleepy state, he’s just so cute.
HONG JOSHUA
will ask numerous times if you’re really okay with sleeping in the same bed as him.
and in fact, he will ask your consent before doing anything, even if it’s just keeping the lights on a little longer.
he would feel a little awkward at first, not knowing if he can touch you or not when he’s dying inside to cuddle with you.
but he would not say it, so you’ll have to ask him to hold you in his arms - and bet that you’re wrapped in his embrace the next second.
will kiss your temple before falling asleep and wake up before you in the morning to serve you breakfast in bed
MOON JUNHUI
so so nervous, his mind cannot make up for the fact that you’re going to sleep in his bed, right next to him.
he wants to cuddle with you so badly but he’s too anxious to ask you.
instead, he will put on a film for the two of you to watch in hopes you’re going to get comfortable.
when you lay your head on his chest and grab his hand, he’s screaming inside and he cannot wipe the smile out of his face.
jun would end up falling asleep all cuddled up against you before the film is even finished.
he would never stop saying that he slept sooo well the next morning, in hopes that it will lead to you sleeping in his bed more.
KWON SOONYOUNG
so excited about it and he cannot hide it
he’s smiling the entire time, from the moment you arrive to the moment you both settle under the covers.
even as your friend, he would want to cuddle all the time, so you can’t say you’re surprised when he’s snuggling against you, wrapping his arms around your waist, head comfortably placed on your chest.
i think he would be the type to accidentally keep the whole blanket all for himself, leading you to get even closer to him.
he would apologize in the morning, but at the same time, he’s content with holding you against him for as long as possible.
JEON WONWOO
another one who would get very shy.
he would not even be the one to propose that you sleep with him : he’s ready to just put some pillows on the floor and sleep there.
but when you insist, saying that you don’t mind sharing a bed with him, his ears turn red so quickly.
i don’t see him as the cuddliest member, but he would definitely let you play with his hands, trace patterns in his palms while you’re talking.
and if in the morning, he wakes up to you still holding his hand, gripping so tightly he can’t free it from your grasp (as if he wants to do that in the first place), don’t blame if he takes a few pictures.
LEE JIHOON
he would try to act cool, calm and collected the whole time when he really isn’t at all.
some chill music will play quietly in the background as he adds some pillow on his bed to make sure you’re comfortable.
he will melt at the sight of you in his hoodie that you borrowed because you were cold, it was looking so big on you.
jihoon would love to turn off the light and talk with you about everything before sleeping, admiring your figure in the darkness.
he would also love it if you start playing with his hair, chasing your hand when you stop.
LEE SEOKMIN
so excited he’s jumping all around his room, stuffing his bed with even more pillows and blankets to make sure that you’re going to feel comfortable enough.
his room would be cleaned up from a to z and it has never been tidier because he wants to make a good impression on you.
would put on a film for the two of you to watch with a loooot of snacks, and all your favorite ones obviously.
will try to smoothly put his arm around your shoulder and get you to be closer to him.
his hands are literally shaking the whole time, only feeling relief when you finally hold it.
his heart is beating so fast when you fall asleep on his chest, the next day he’s punching the air in joy.
KIM MINGYU
he’s so cute omgg, cheeks and ears are all red when he asks you if you need anything else.
he just wants to hold you close to him but at the same time he’s so nervous to ask you, he just keeps fumbling with his hands, trying not to make it obvious.
so you’ll have to do it yourself if you want to cuddle with him.
but once you’ve settled in his arms, he’s not letting you go, feeling so good with having you all close to him.
another human heater who will keep you warm all night.
100% would bury his face into your neck or hair to breathe in your scent all night.
XU MINGHAO
he’s honestly pretty calm about it, trying to tell himself that it’s not that deep.
really it’s because he is very comfortable around you so he perfectly knows that it’s going to go well.
everything feels so natural, and you fitting so well in his arms feels just right too.
however, he cannot ignore how fast his heart is beating when you wrap your arms around his waist and nuzzle your face in his neck.
even if he wakes up before you the morning after, he’ll stay with you in bed, admiring your beautiful features.
BOO SEUNGKWAN
warning you before that if you disrupt his beauty sleep, he’ll kick you out (but let’s be honest, it’s only to hide how nervous he is).
helps you do your skincare before you both go into bed (yes, that is another excuse to be closer to you and touch your face).
he will also braid your hair because he says that it protects them during your sleep.
with how close he is to you all the time, you don't expect him to be so far away when you get under the covers.
but once you say it’s okay for him to cuddle with you, he doesn’t let you go all night.
you end up falling asleep to him telling you the most recent stories that happened to him this week, and he finds you so cute that he cannot be mad about it.
CHWE HANSOL
will try to keep his usual chill persona but he feels all giddy inside.
he smiles so much more than what you’re used to, just because he’s happy to get to spend more time with you.
you two end up talking until dawn, about anything and everything, jumping from the most serious subject to the less important one.
when you finally fall asleep, you’re close but not touching each other but when he wakes up in the morning, your head is laying on his chest, sleeping peacefully and his arms are around your waist.
he will not make any moves until you open your eyes because he loves the feeling of holding you like that.
LEE CHAN
he’s so shy, he doesn’t know what to do with himself anymore.
constantly asks you if you need something, and bet that he’s ready to do everything for you to be comfortable.
will play with your hair under the excuse that “they look soft” and they really do but it’s also because it helps you relax (and because he just loves doing it).
he could take matters into his own hands and cuddle with you, but if you initiate it, he’s going to melt inside.
literally the best sleep of his life (and yours too).
will spend another three hours in bed after waking up, just talking with you because it feels too good being in your arms.
-> i don't allow any copies, reposts or translations of my works.
svt masterlist (fill in this to be added) :
@lil-kpopstan @hann1bee @iraisswiftie @bewoyewo @lichyuu
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smut scenarios with genshin men
ayato, neuvillete, pantalone, diluc, wriothesly, childe, dottore (?), capitano, pierro- his maid/assistant
he loved how cute you were; How you always pulled your skirt up and showed off your thighs; How you always had your hair done, as if you had someone to impress.
You had him to impress, actually. He watches you bend down with a sharp eye, feeling himself harden just at the show of extra skin and excuses himself as he goes to the privacy of his office, jerking off as he imagines you bending over his lap as he spanks the revealed skin that just sends him haywire.
He starts requesting you stay late while the other workers go home, and he hopes you don't see through his facade but you oh so clearly can and you of course accept the request.
One night, you can hear him groan from the stress of his constant work and you knock at the door, waiting for his tired voice to speak.
"Come in,"
You walk in, and slight surprise overtakes him but there's a happy spark in his eyes. "Y/N, to what do I owe the pleasure?"
"I just thought you could use some help with your work," You spoke slyly and innocently as you walked up to his desk/
He looked at you confused, "What do you- oh,"
He lets out a groan when your fingers started to firmly yet softly dig into his back, hitting all the right spots as he completely relaxes.
He wants to say this is unprofessional- you're his boss! But was jerking off to you and fantasizing about you professional? No.
That was his reasoning for his boldness when he speaks. "You know, I'm feeling rather sore...down here."
That is how you find yourself in his lap, bouncing on his fat cock as you tried to stay quiet, but it was hitting such amazing spots and so deep into you that you couldn't help yourself but to scream his name.
"nghh- oh! yes, yes!"
If it was possible, it was turning him on even more- watching you struggle to take his large size but still trying to ride him just to be his stress relief. Instead, he decides to thrust up into you, making you stop trying and instead lean against him, wrapping your arms around him as he placed his hands on your hips, taking the lead and sending you into purebliss.
"oh~ oh! fuck...so deep!"
"if you're truly so keen on being such a good stress relief for me, well, then I hope you don't mind if I rail you for the rest of the night...and possibly every other.
thoma, kaeya, kazuha, Itto, aether, albedo, zhongli - a shrine maiden (or anything related in the other regions)
He doesn’t know what it is but there’s something about your innocence that he just needs to ruin.
Well, not ruin: he thinks it’s adorable, but he knows that one day someone else will see you in a way he fantasizes about late at night and he is determined to become that person because no one else deserves to see you in a way like that other than him.
He takes more frequent trips to where you work, to the point that it’s so often you find yourself hugging him when you see him and you don’t think about the way he holds on tightly, hands right above your ass.
However, you weren’t as innocent as he thought. Sure, you were completely oblivious ro the truth behind his actions but late at night, there was a possibility you had the same fantasias about it too. But you couldn’t show it to him! No, you had a job to do and it was to stay pure.
You just loved the way his touches were so teasing as they lingered near the places you oh so wish you could take care of.
It becomes so bad it starts to ache, and you find yourself at his door after coming back from work, needing his help for this relief and he is so happy to oblige.
Tears streamed down your face, moaning at how good his cock felt as it pushed into you so deeply, hitting all the spots your fingers never could.
“f-faster…” You gasped, “please!”
He could only let out a deep chuckle, his movement becoming harsher that anyone who even walked nearby the house could hear the slick noises.
“You’re gonna make me cum, darling.”
“In me!” you whined, trying to push yourself further onto his dick and he laughed. “f-fill me up!”
“Such indecency, dear. No one can know how much of a slut you are; it’ll ruin your image! That means you must always come to me for this, got it?”
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not quite tuesday tidbit teases
it's probably tuesday somewhere and this just popped in my head and I wanted to share. what do you think? do we want more?
tagging if any of you want to share something 😘 @hippolotamus @eddiebabygirldiaz @messyhairdiaz @rainbow-nerdss @tizniz @spotsandsocks @daffi-990 @monsterrae1 @diazsdimples @watchyourbuck @wh0re-behavi0r @911onabc @chaosandwolves @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @rogerzsteven @epicbuddieficrecs @bekkachaos @fiona-fififi @wikiangela @exhuastedpigeon @the-likesofus @hoodie-buck @lover-of-mine @mikereads @jesuiscenseedormir @lemonzestywrites 💕
It’s just after midnight and Buck is going to bed.
He’s been saying this for a couple hours but YouTube had too many AItA videos and Instagram had those gorgeously edited food recipe posts and he doesn’t even want to talk about the doomscrolling of TikTok. But he had a day off and it was supposed to be with Tommy so they could take the weekend and go somewhere fun and romantic, but then Tommy had to work. Buck could’ve gone in with the rest of A shift. But it was nice to have some alone time for himself so he took time for himself.
His phone goes off with a call five seconds after he’s gotten into bed. It’s a number he doesn’t know. So he could ignore it. Or wait until they’ve left a message. But who would call at this hour for no reason? Or for scamming, telemarketing reasons?
So Buck answers.
“Buckley?” The man on the other end says. He sounds vaguely familiar but not enough that Buck came put a name or face with a voice.
“Uh, yeah? Who is this?”
“Mehta. Captain Mehta. Of the 133.”
“Oh, hey,” Buck says, automatically friendly and smiling. That makes sense now. “What’s up? Why the— why are you calling?” Why would he call in the middle of the night?
Why does anyone call in the middle of the night.
“Buckley,” he says and it sounds… it sounds… it sounds like…
They have him now. They’ll take care of him. Why don’t we get you cleaned up. He’s in good hands. They’ll rush him to surgery. You don’t have to worry. Let’s get you cleaned up.
Lets get you cleaned up.
Buck can’t breathe. His whole body is cold. Frozen.
He tries to get out of bed. He tries, but just slides to the floor beside it. He doesn’t make it any further.
“Buckley, there was a helicopter crash. Your team, our team we went to rescue the pilot. Your, uh, sorry, I don’t know what you call him, but your boyfriend? Life partner? He—”
Oh god. No. No, that’s not. That’s not happening. That is not what is happening right now. This can’t be a, Tommy is dead and I’m letting you know. It can’t be that. It’s not. They were going to—
They were supposed to have a romantic trip together. Wine tasting and some kind of museum Tommy thought Buck would love and maybe a visit to a hot springs up north and they were going to watch the sunset and the sunrise and—
And he can’t be dead. He can’t be.
“He’s alive,” Mehta says. “We’re at Cedars-Sinai. He’s alive, but. It doesn’t look good. He’s in the ICU now. He’s critical.”
Buck pushes himself up. Has to. He has to be there.
He barely remembers to thank Mehta or even end the call before he switches off his phone and runs out the door.
~
The drive is a blur. The drive is probably very illegal and he doesn’t know how he doesn’t crash, but he doesn’t have time to wait for an Uber or for anyone else. He runs as fast as possible to the ER lobby, and almost runs directly into Chimney.
Not almost. Buck crashes into him and almost knocks them both to the floor but that almost actually is an almost because Chim somehow steadies them both.
He’s pale. Shaken up. His eyes are red. He’s been crying.
“Chim,” Buck says as broken as he feels. “Chim, where— where is he? What happened? How did this happen? Please tell me he’s okay. He can’t be dying, right? That can’t be happening?”
Chim opens his mouth and grips Buck’s arms tighter, still trying to steady him. “Buck, we— we don’t know yet. It was bad, but he’s tough. You know that. He could be fine.”
Buck lets out a broken whimper and backs away from him. “No. He is fine. He’s fine and this isn’t happening. I just— Chim, I just found him. I can’t lose him already.”
There’s a flash of something on Chimney’s face but there’s movement around Buck, too. Other people. Bobby, he’s pretty sure. And Hen. They would be here. They would try to comfort him. But they don’t need to because it’s fine. Everything is fine and this isn’t happening.
It can’t be happening.
He can’t be dying.
There’s more movement and it’s all blurry, probably filtered through tears, but then everything stops. The world stops.
Tommy is right in front of him. Whole, alive, real, a little rumpled and there are bloody scratches and bandages on his face and around his arm. But he’s here. He’s fine.
Buck slams into him, throws his arms around him, and sobs as he clutches him.
“Baby,” Tommy says softly as he hugs Buck tightly, cradling him, comforting him, and Buck can breathe. He’s not frozen. Everything is okay. They were all wrong. Buck knew they were wrong. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Tommy tells him and holds him tighter.
Buck pulls back just to look at him. “No, it’s okay. You’re okay.” He takes a deep breath and smiles because Tommy is fine. He’s right here and everything is good. Buck touches Tommy’s battered face and caresses him gently. He’s bruised and also pale, and very soggy. It’s been stormy tonight. Another reason why Buck wasn’t all that eager to go out in it. “They told me— fuck, they scared me. I thought— I thought I lost you. I was so scared. I don’t want to lose you. He told me—Mehta, Captain Mehta— he called and told me there was a helicopter crash and my boyfriend was in the ICU and he’s critical and it didn’t look good, and I can’t— god, I can’t. Tommy, I—”
Tommy’s face isn’t good. It’s pale. Bad. Not smiling. Not relieved. It falls and he can’t even hide the devastation on it. He looks like guilt and death, and his mouth moves but nothing comes out. “Evan,” he finally says, barely says. It’s too quiet, too broken. “Evan…”
No. No, Buck doesn’t like that. He doesn’t want to throw up right now. And he just might. His heart is rabbit speed lightning and his legs don’t exist anymore and there’s an awful blackhole of apocalyptic world-ending destruction swirling and growing in his stomach.
Someone takes his arm. Someone needs his attention. He’s moved from Tommy’s arms because there is no safety or comfort anymore. There’s no relief. There’s no happily ever after, nothing will ever be okay.
Buck knows why Mehta said what he said. He knows who isn’t here. He knows who would have come to him and immediately comforted him.
He knows.
He knows what this is now. It can’t be that. It can’t. Buck doesn’t know anything.
Hen tells him. She holds his arm and says calmly even if it’s broken. Everything is broken. They’re all broken. “Buck. It’s Eddie.”
No. No, it isn’t. It isn’t that either. Buck really can’t take that. It was bad enough, unimaginable enough the other way. It can’t be this.
He’s already done this. They did this before. More than once. Forty plus feet of cruel earth and a whirling burst of metal and blood all over him.
Eddie’s blood was all over him.
“The helicopter went down and got stuck on the cliffs. He went in so he could pull Tommy out, and we got Tommy out,” Hen tells him, every word a knife stabbing through both of them. All of them.
“He saved me,” Tommy says, quiet and full of regret. “He saved me and went down with it. They thought it was stable enough. It wasn’t. They got him out after. But…”
Buck collapses to his knees on the floor and holds his head in his own hands as if he can somehow hold himself together when there’s no holding himself together.
It’s Eddie.
It’s Eddie it’s Eddie it’s Eddie.
Buck shatters like flimsy glass and sobs in all the pieces that are ripped out of him. What about Chris? What about Abuela? What about Eddie’s parents and sisters and friends and everyone else who loves him?
What about Buck? They can’t be BuckandEddie without Eddie.
“I need to see him,” Buck suddenly says to the closest person who will listen. “I need to be with him. Please. Please.”
There’s arguing that happens. Bobby yells at someone. Hen, Chim, and Tommy stay around him like a protective guard. Until someone finally agrees. He’s not in surgery, they can’t take him to surgery yet. He’s not stable enough. But he’s on a ventilator, life support. They warn him and Buck doesn’t care. He knows how bad these things can be. He’s lived through several.
They give him five minutes.
They’ll have to drag him out with an armed guard if they think Buck will agree to only that. But at least it’s something.
It’s something.
Eddie is mostly covered. Blankets, wires, tubes, IV lines, bandages. He’s paler than all of them. Slightly blue-purple, cyanotic. They tell him a few things but Buck can’t hear them. He just wants to be with Eddie.
Buck sits beside him and rests a shaking hand over Eddie’s hand, under the blankets where it’s trying to be warm. Buck would give anything to keep him warm, and alive.
Eddie needs to stay alive. He needs to.
Buck rests his forehead on the side of the bed near their joined hands. He would say something if he had the capacity to form words and sentences. The only thing in his head right now is, don’t leave me, please don’t leave me.
And that’s probably all he can say. All that really matters.
Don’t leave me, don’t leave me, please, don’t ever leave me.
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A lot of younger people have no idea what aging actually looks and feels like, and the reasons behind it. That ignorance is so dangerous. If you don’t want to “be old,” you aren’t talking about a number of years. I have patients in their late 80s who could still handily beat me in a race—one couple still runs marathons together, in their late 80s—and I lost someone who was in her early 60s to COPD last year. What you want is not youth, it is health.
If you want to still be able to enjoy doing things in your 60s and 70s and 80s and even 90s, what you want to do, right now, is quit smoking, get some activity on a regular basis (a couple of walks a week is WAY better for you than nothing; increasing from 1 hour a day of cardio to 1.5 will buy you very little), and eat some plants. That’s it. No magic to it. No secret weird tricks. Don’t poison yourself, move around so your body doesn’t forget how, and eat plants.
If you have trouble moving around now because of mobility limitations, bad news: you still need to move around, not because it’s immoral not to, but because that’s still the best advice we have. I highly recommend looking up the Sit and Be Fit series; it is freely available and has exercises that can be done in a chair, which are suitable for people with limited mobility or poor balance. POTS sufferers, I’m looking at you.
If you have trouble eating plants because of dietary issues (they cause gas, etc.) or just because they’re bitter (super taster with texture issues here!), bad news. You still want to find a way to get some plants into your body on a regular basis. I know. It sucks. The only way I can do it is restaurants—they can make salads taste like food. I can also tolerate some bagged salads. On bad weeks, the OCD with contamination focus gets so bad I just can’t. However, canned beans always seem “safe,” and they taste a bit like candy, so they’re a good fallback.
If you smoke and you have tried quitting a million times and you’re just not ready to, bad news. You still need to quit. Your body needs you to try and keep trying. Your brain needs it, too. Damaging small blood vessels racks up cumulative damage over time that your body can start trying to reverse as soon as you quit. I know it’s insanely, absurdly addictive. You still need to.
You cannot rules lawyer your way past your body’s basic needs. It needs food, sleep, activity, and the absence of poison. Those are both small things and big asks. You cannot sustain a routine based on punishment, so don’t punish your body. Find ways to include these things that are enjoyable and rewarding instead. Experiment. There is no reason not to experiment—you don’t have to know instantly what’s going to work for you and what won’t, you just need to be willing to try things and make changes when things aren’t working for you.
You will still age. Your body will stop making collagen and elastin. Tissues you can see and tissues you can’t see will both sag. Cushioning tissues under your skin will get thinner. You’ll bruise more easily. Skin will tear more easily. Accumulated sun damage will start to show more and more. Joints will begin to show arthritis. Tendons and ligaments will get weaker and get injured more easily, as will muscles. Bones will lose mass and get easier to break. You’ll get tired more easily.
But you know what makes the difference between being dead, or as good as, in your 60s vs your 90s? Activity, plants, and quitting smoking. And don’t do meth. Saw a 58-year-old guy this week who is going to have a heart attack if he doesn’t quit whatever stimulant he’s on. I pretended to believe it was just the cigarettes, and maybe it is, but meth and cocaine will kill you quicker. Stop poisoning yourself.
Baby steps; take it one step at a time; you don’t need to have everything figured out right now. But you do need to be working on figuring things out.
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this goes out to my itty bitty titty committee😘
Your boyfriend was very aware of your insecurities. Especially about your breasts.
The first time you guys were getting intimate. You were doing everything in your power to not take off your shirt. Of course he stopped and talked to you about it which was how he found out you were insecure.
“They’re just too small you know? I don’t know it’s embarrassing.” You mumble, fiddling with the hem of your shirt.
So he started off small, to try and get you comfortable around him and just make you feel good about your body in general.
He’d compliment you whenever you didn’t wear bras while wearing tight shirts, urging you to go out in public like that freely because he knew how to fight.
Cuddle sessions he’d have your back flush against him and hand slithering under your shirt, gently massaging it.
You’d pout whenever he wanted to lay on your chest, telling him there was no cushion whatsoever and he’d always snap back with a,
“That’s okay. I wanna feel your heartbeat.” He wasn’t lying either, the sound of your heartbeat was always a sound that lulled him to sleep.
When you’re on top of him one night, you finally let him see them. He’s over the moon.
One, he can finally show you how much he adored your body.
Two, you trusted him with your body.
Right when your shirt comes off your hands are quick to cover them though.
“D-Don’t just stare.” You whine and he smiles, prying your hands away and gazing into your eyes.
“I love you.” He said so sweetly, even though you’ve heard it countless of times, it makes you flush and tear up.
He held the small of your back, his lips peppering small featherlight kisses along your chest. Whispering sweet nothings into your skin.
“So beautiful, my beautiful girl.”
Whines and gasps would leave you as he pulled one into his mouth. Sucking and rolling his tongue against your nub. By the end of the night you have to pry him off because he won’t stop.
You practically came alone from him just abusing your tits with his mouth. Now they were all sore and marked up. Even when you’re both falling asleep he’s still fondling them.
“Stop it, they hurt.” You pout, trying to swat his hand away.
“And you said I wouldn’t love them. I love everything about you baby.” He’d whisper in your ear, holding you closer to him.
— inumaki , yuuji , choso , yuuta , mitsuya, draken , sanzu, shinichiro , hanma , bakugo , deku , kirishima , aki , angel , armin , jean
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I LOVE YOUR HOTCH FICS!!! <3 You write him so well, and I just adore how soft he is 🥺! I've read a fic where the author basically describes him as a Jane Austen hero, and I can't help but agree (what are you thoughts?)! Sooooo, is it possible to get a fic where Hotch reads to sick!reader to help her sleep? TYSM!
omg ur so right he is very much jane austen coded!!! tysm for requesting i hope u like it!!! | 0.7k of fluff, sick reader and gentle hotch <3
Aaron’s job isn’t one that allows him to take much time off of work, even when he wants to. You know it, and would never be angry at him for it, so when you wake up feeling a little too warm, you reassure him that you’ll be fine by yourself.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?” He asks, already dressed in his suit and sitting on the edge of the bed by your waist. “I can if you want me to.”
Of course the only time he’d be eager to ask for a day off is when it’s in your favor. He doesn’t even call out when he’s the one who’s sick.
“No, you can’t, Aaron. They need you over there,” you say, hoping your smile is convincing enough. “I’m just gonna sleep this off. I’ll be fine.”
He sighs, reluctant to leave even though he sort of has to, even though he knows you can take care of yourself. He just hates not being the one to do so, anyways.
Hotch leans over to press a kiss to your heated cheek, “I’ll call you when I can to check in, okay?”
“You really don’t have to-”
“Let me do that, at least, sweetheart.”
“Okay.”
He kisses your cheek again and then stands to leave, pausing at the bedroom doorway to turn back and look at you one more time. You snake your hand out from under the sheets and give him a thumbs up.
Aaron calls you exactly five times throughout the day, most of them quick, couple-minute phone calls where he asks how you’re doing, if you’ve eaten. One of them during his lunch—which he rarely takes—and lasting nearly half an hour, him doing most of the talking.
The sun is close to setting by the time he gets home, where Aaron finds you curled up on the couch in the comforter from your bed, your skin clammy, your baby hairs sticking to your forehead.
His heart aches a little bit at the sight, because he knows you’ve been downplaying how sick you feel all day to keep him from worrying, as if anything could.
Hotch walks over to the couch, crouching in front of where your head is propped up on a pillow. “Sweetheart.”
“Hi, Aaron.”
He presses the back of his hand to your forehead, frowning at how warm you feel. “Why didn’t you tell me you have a fever? You should be in bed.”
“Got too warm in there, then too cold out here, so I took the comforter. Hope that’s okay.”
The medicine you took hours ago hasn’t done much other than make you a little groggy, and it’s clear in the way you speak with your cheek still squished to the pillow, your eyelids heavy.
Aaron’s hand is still on your forehead, like he can will your fever away with his touch. “Have you slept? Are you hungry?”
You shake your head, “don’t really feel like eating.”
“You should,” he says. “How about I run you a bath and make you some soup? Then bed.”
“Okay, doctor Hotchner.”
He shakes his head, though the small smile on your face as you tease him makes him smile, too. Even feeling poorly, you manage to brighten his day. A ray of sunshine.
He does exactly as promised, and after a bath and a generous bowl of soup that Hotch made sure you finished, you’ve got your head in his lap, his hand gently pushing your hair back.
Looking down, Aaron finds you still awake, blinking up at him lazily. “Aren’t you tired?”
“It’s been hard to sleep,” you say, fingers fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt. “Will you read to me?”
“Sure, sweetheart. Pick a book.”
You choose, and whine when he gets up to go get it even though he’s back in a matter of seconds. With your cheek comfortably pressed against his thigh once again, he starts reading to you.
You’ve always loved Aaron’s voice, the way it sounds when he speaks to you, the low and calm tone that seems to wash over you. He’s using a gentle voice now, a quiet one that you love even more because it’s one he saves for you. Intimate and lovely.
It’s only with his hand in your hair and his voice in your ears that you’re finally able to fall asleep.
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𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐔𝐏 𝐌𝐘 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃
summary: when you ask about your boyfriend's home, you get more than you bargained for; but considering it's him, you don't mind, right?
pairing: jade x gn! reader
warnings: fluff, a little suggestive, nonsexual nudity; i’m suffering from a serious case of eel on the brain so you must suffer with me; can’t stop thinking about bioluminescent eel brothers and just mixed that in with jade’s ceremonial robes home screen lines
twisted wonderland masterlist
“I’m captivated by the human custom of changing clothes to suit the occasion,” Jade hummed as deft fingers tied your previously crooked tie and then straightened out the collar of your uniform shirt. “It reminds me of fish who change their scales to match their environment.”
“That sounds like an interesting ability to have,” you chuckled as you combed the long black strand of hair behind his ear, mesmerised by the way the ambient light of the nearly empty Mostro Lounge reflected in his heterochromic eyes. Even with him sitting down and you standing between his legs, he was tall enough to where you were nearly on eye-level. “I’ve never really thought about it, but I guess mers don’t really wear clothes then?”
“It depends on the mer, really, though accessorising is far more common than what you humans would consider clothes. Those in brighter waters seem to enjoy bejewelling themselves for outings, though it doesn’t serve much of a purpose in the deep.” Jade smiled, though this smile lacked the usual nerve-wrecking edge it held when others were around. When he was satisfied with his work, his hands slid down to rest on your waist.
“On top of having to learn how to walk, having to wear all these layers of clothing must have felt really restricting,” you said, your hand mapping the path from his jaw down to his shoulder to play with the lapels of his blazer. “Though I have to say, you do look very good in your school uniform.”
“Fufu, you flatter me, my pearl,” the merman chuckled. “Even so, you look much more lovely in anything you wear. I’m still not accustomed to clothes with excess fabric. My people aren’t like aquarium fish with their long tail fins, after all.”
“I’m still in awe you managed to pull off this transformation of body and habitat so gracefully,” you thought out loud. “If my living conditions changed so drastically, I would’ve felt like a fish out of water… Quite literally, I guess.”
“Admittedly, those first months were rather rough, that’s true. But the world above the Coral Sea holds so many new experiences, I do not regret my decision.” His hands gently squeezed your sides at that, his eyes never leaving yours. Faintly you wondered whether his people could enrapture humans with just their gaze or if it was your own heart which rendered you defenceless against him.
“I’m also glad you came here, Jade,” you confessed, voice coming out barely above a whisper. This time you couldn’t stop your palms from cupping his cheeks between them as he brought you just close enough to where Azul couldn’t reprimand him for indecency. “Would you mind telling me more about the differences you experienced? I want to learn more about your home, too.”
“Gladly,” the moray smiled at you and it warmed your heart despite the hint of sharp teeth showing through. “Let’s see… Ah, I enjoy looking up at the stars, especially when out in the mountains. It’s a very different feeling than from the ocean and it makes me forget the passage of time, even though I have no particular interest in astrology.”
“Sounds like a date in the making, if you ask me,” you grinned knowingly. Every so often, Jade pestered you into switching clubs to the mountain lovers club and while you had yet to relent, you did join him on hikes frequently.
“I will hold you to that,” he promised, eyes crinkling at the edges as if he had gotten just what he wanted. Knowing him, he probably had been gunning for exactly that without you noticing. “Now then, what else did I find astounding when I first came here? Most of it are probably minor things to you, like sneezing, cracking your joints or getting a sunburn. Still hearing the first two was very alarming initially. Azul and I thought Floyd had broken a bone.”
“To be fair, sometimes it does sound like something went incredibly wrong when someone cracks their spine or neck,” you shuddered, reminded of the sounds Ace and Deuce had produced in the past which had you halfway to the nurses office already. “A sunburn must have been a nasty surprise though.”
“That it was,” Jade sighed. “There’s hardly anything worse than drying out for a merman, so we didn’t spend much time in the sun anyway. But to learn that a human’s skin is so easily burned by something they need for their health… Speaking of sunlight, considering it does not reach the depths of my home, everything seemed excessively bright up here too in the beginning.”
“Woah, maybe I underestimated how cold and dark your home is, by my standards at least. Like, no sunlight at all? I’d probably freeze,” you laughed, goosebumps forming under your blazer and shirt at the mere thought.
“Hm, I guess it must seem so to you. When I first learnt about the summer temperatures at land I also thought it wouldn’t be bearable,” Jade chuckled, a spark of mischief in his eyes that you couldn’t place yet. “But an environment devoid of light gives way to many new possibilities in which life can evolve. Sure, you have to always be on guard for what’s lurking around the next corner but you also get to appreciate the colourful glow of bioluminescent fish and plants.”
“The first part sounds terrifying, to be quite honest.” You knew he only ever brought these things up to get a reaction out of you but you still wondered what his life was like to be able to say it with such a calm expression. Instead, you chose to focus on something more pleasant. “Though the bioluminescence sounds beautiful. Back home there were beaches where algae turned the sand and waves a fluorescent blue, so I wonder what it would look like underwater.”
“Would you like to see?” Jade asked, one hand sneaking from your waist to intertwine his fingers with yours. Anticipation was almost tangible in the air, yet you couldn’t figure out why for the life you. So despite the hairs on your neck standing on end, you nodded. Immediately, Jade had risen to his full height and was pulling you along through Octavinelle’s winding hallways.
“Jade! Where are we going?” You laughed, not expecting the sudden switch up. Though that was probably on you; despite hiding it much better than his brother, Jade still tended to do only what was fun to him.
“Oh, you’ll see,” your boyfriend smiled conspiratorially over his shoulder, eyes twinkling like a kid’s on Christmas. He was seriously cute when he got excited about something, even if it meant finding yourself at the end of his teasing more often than not. Considering he was very fond of growing all sorts of things in his terrariums, perhaps he had managed to raise some sort of luminescent plant and this was a ploy for him to gush about his terrariums?
Confusion set in once more, however, when you walked in a different direction than his room. Sure, you didn’t know the structure of Octavinelle all too well but you’d think you’d find the one room you had visited most in the dorm. Wracking your brain in order to figure out what was happening in his, you almost bumped into the moray as he came to a halt in front of one of the many doors. You had never been here before, so you braced yourself for any- and everything as he twisted the doorknob.
The first thing you noticed was the smell of salt and the humidity in the air. Then you noted how you couldn’t see anything in the pitch black darkness. As if he heard your thoughts, a small, dim light flickered on above, revealing tiled floors leading up to a large pool. Of course Octavinelle would have a pool of this size.
Following Jade to the edge of the pool, you peered into the water to find only your reflection staring back at you from the water, the lack of light turning it from clear to near intransparent.
“Seems kinda of irresponsible to cultivate plants or fish in a school swimming pool, don’t you think?” You voiced your doubts as you remembered why you came here in the first place. “How deep is this thing anyway? I can’t see anything in there.”
“Who said anything about fish or plants?” Jade’s chuckle reverberated around the room from behind you and when you turned to see what was so funny, you saw him neatly folding his uniform blazer before starting to unbutton his shirt.
“Wait, hold on.” You held up your hands as you tried putting one and one together, just to end up at three. “Not that I particularly mind where this is going but what’s happening right now?”
There was a shit-eating grin stretching across Jade’s lips and revealing his sharp teeth as he shrugged off his shirt, sauntering over to where you were standing as he slipped his gloves off.
“Didn’t you say you wanted to see bioluminescence for yourself?” At his newfound proximity, you quickly averted your eyes from his swimmer’s body, to feign at least some form of decency, which seemed to amuse him even more. “Have I never told you that my people possess a form of bioluminescence ourselves?”
“You conveniently forgot to mention that.”
“An oversight on my part, my apologies,” Jade hummed, a hand placed over his heart, sounding not sorry at all.
“That aside, it’s not like I brought any swimwear,” you sighed, looking at his eyes and decidedly nowhere else. “Nor can I breathe or open my eyes in saltwater.”
Out of thin air, seemingly, Jade procured a small phial of shimmering liquid; the same one Azul had given to you when you went to the Coral Sea. At his unreadable smile, you raised an eyebrow but nonetheless took the potion from him. “How much of this did you plan out?”
“Fufu, do you really think I would carefully steer a conversation a certain way just to give me an excuse to bring you here?” When your answer was a resounding ‘yes’, he grinned even wider. “I see, this is the impression you have of me.”
“Also, this still doesn’t solve our first predicament,” you reminded him, yet already finding your resolve to deny him weakening. Damn the effect he had on you.
“I can’t see the predicament you speak of at all,” Jade mused, hands landing on your hips again as his fingers pinched the fabric of your uniform. “Perhaps this is a good chance for you to experience how a merperson would feel, swimming freely without any restrictive layers. You were so eager to learn earlier.”
“Jade Leech, are you suggesting I go skinny dipping in a public college pool?” You only received a closed-eye smile as a response as his hands tugged more of your shirt out of your pants. “I can’t believe you. And I can’t believe myself for going along with this…”
The vice housewarden was more than okay with undoing his former handiwork and helping you out of your tie, blazer and shirt. When it was time to remove the rest of your clothes, he left you to your own devices to do the same. For a second you contemplated leaving on your underwear but decided against it at the thought of having to walk back to your dorm with it either soaked or missing.
A splash behind you drew your attention as you draped your last article of clothing over the back of a chair you had found and you chugged down the potion, then ambled over to the pool’s edge again. Dipping your toes in, you breathed a sigh of relief when the water wasn’t too frigid, yet still settled for sitting down and hanging your legs in first.
After a minute or so of acclimating to the temperature, you wondered where your boyfriend had gone, unable to see anything in the dark water. Just then, a cold hand wrapped around your ankle. Despite knowing what -or rather who- it was, you still jerked your leg upwards, but it wasn’t like you got very far, Jade’s strength keeping you exactly where you were. A pair of mismatched eyes stared at you from right under the surface before Jade’s head emerged and broke through the water’s surface.
“Looks like I caught myself a pearl,” he mused before gliding his webbed fingers up your bare claves, sending a jolt up your spine, but not from the coldness. Crossing his arms over your knees, he laid his head down on them so he could look at you properly, his bare chest resting against your legs. If it weren’t for the long shadow of his tail moving right under the water’s surface, he would have reminded you of an overgrown housecat.
“Oh no, whatever shall I do now?” You played along, running your hand through his wet, teal hair and gently caressing the fins where his ears would be. Sighing under your touch, his long nails absentmindedly traced over your thighs, careful not to hurt you. “Please don’t eat me.”
Cracking his left eye open at your teasing, he pressed a lingering kiss above your knee, his teeth lightly gracing the skin there as he pulled away. Definitely not enough to hurt in any way, but enough to remind you of the danger he could pose; a notion that sent adrenaline racing through your body for all the wrong reasons. He winked at you, maybe as a promise for later. “We’ll see about that.”
As he parted from you, he pushed himself up in a display of awe-inspiring core strength and pulled you against him by your waist and thighs, taking you with him as he slowly sank under the surface again. Your hands tried finding purchase on his shoulders, yet continued to slip over the slick covering his skin. Jade, however, had no difficulties holding on to you.
On instinct you had closed your eyes and held your breath as you submerged but the careful caress of a thumb over your cheekbone prompted you to open them and take a tentative lungful of air. Just as back in the Coral Sea, the sensation was weird and unfamiliar but you didn’t drown, which you noted down as a pro.
Whatever you wanted to say died on your tongue as you looked at Jade. Bright spots glowed on his chest and the stripes running over his ribs glowed in an equally stunning teal. Backing up so he was a good arm’s length away, you studied the rest of him, finding that the stripes over his hips as well as clusters of spots on his arms and fins all seemed to be luminescent.
“You’re so beautiful,” you whispered, more to yourself than to him, yet he still pulled you flush against his torso again. Without much hesitation you started tracing the constellations you could reach. “They’re like stars.”
The moray was glad you couldn’t see his face from your position for an uncharacteristically genuine expression of shock decorated his face. Nobody back at home had ever complimented him so genuinely without any ulterior motives. Yes, he had been the one who instigated this little stunt but he hadn’t factored in that you always managed to tug on his heartstrings in the end. At first, he had been a little wary, wondering what you thought about his merform, especially after he had chased you around the sea like this before, but he realised he shouldn’t have worried.
“And you flatter me yet again,” he chuckled instead, tone and expression back to his usual show of amusement. Still, he looped his long tail around your middle once as his hands wandered over your curves and stroked along your skin that was so much more delicate compared to his. “Should I perhaps be wary that you are lowering my defences for nefarious reasons?”
“Ah and here I was hoping you wouldn't notice,” you sighed, fingertips brushing over the bright spots littering his tail as you held his gaze, his yellow eye almost glowing against the darkness that surrounded you. ���Despite all the warnings I’ve intended to steal from you. This, to be precise.”
Maybe it was the fact it was just the two of you down here and the rest of the world was forgotten, that drove you to be so straightforward and sappy. But the rhythmic beating of his heart underneath your palm dispelled any feelings of shyness or awkwardness at the -frankly cliché- confession of affection.
Not that Jade seemed to mind either. Before you caught up to what was happening he closed the gap between you and pressed his lips against yours. Perhaps taking the potion earlier was inconsequential after all as Jade moved with the intention of robbing you of all air anyway, the webbed fingers on the back of your head keeping you exactly where he wanted you. You cursed your lungs for burning with the need for oxygen, never having yearned for gills as much as in this moment, if it meant you could keep kissing him for just a second longer. Before he parted from you completely he bit down on your bottom lip, not enough to draw blood but just so to leave it tingling from his attention.
“What a silly little darling,” Jade mused, tracing the shallow indents of his teeth with the pad of his thumb as he drank up the expression on your face. The coil of his tail around you grew just a tad tighter, yet still careful not to hurt you, as a sudden wave of possessiveness washed over him. “Everybody knows you can’t steal what’s already yours.”
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Hey perse! I just discovered your blog and I really like your works! The sleepy MC was super relatable, and I was wondering if you could write some HCs about insomniac MC? It’s rough out here 🥱 looking forward to what you write next :D
AAAA THANK YOU I’M SO GLAD YOU LIKE MY STUFF!! <333 Sorry to hear you’re struggling, insomnia literally sucks so hard. D:<
Hope I did your request justice, here you go~
Insomnia sucks, but do not dread! Demons do not need as much sleep as humans, which means they can devote plenty of time to helping you fall asleep instead!
The first thing Lucifer notices is the delayed reflexes and clumsiness. He originally thinks it’s just because you’re a human. Then he notices that you're quite frustrated with it which confuses him, because if that's the standard for humans then surely you'd be used to it, right? Still, he decides to observe you for a little while, before he confronts you.
It all collides one morning, when you drop your cup of coffee and burn your wrist, causing you to wince. Lucifer is immediately there, tending to you. "Are you hurt? Do you need ice on it?" You pull your hand to yourself and bite your lip, frustrated with it all. "I'm fine," you say, but now that he's close to you he finally notices the bags around your eyes. "Why do you look so tired?" he asks. You blink at him, baffled by his bluntness. "Just haven't been sleeping right," you eventually answer.
He immediately brainstorms how he can fix it. Do you need a new bed? Another pillow? Is the temperature in your room alright? He's very attentive after that and always assures you that the door to his office is open whenever you can't sleep.
Mammon notices that you have a hard time paying attention or focusing. You seem to doze off and stare into space often. He'll wave his hands in front of you. "Hey, human, you payin' attention?" he'll say and pout at you. He's such a whiner when your full attention isn't on him. "Sorry, Mams, I'm just tired," you say. "Yeah? Feel free to come to my room if you can't sleep," he'll offer an wink, despite his cheeks heating up.
He honestly doesn't expect you to take him up on his offer until he hears your soft knocking on his door. He immediately stumbles out of bed and throws his door open, grinning widely. When he catches your dissatisfied sleepy face, he tries to hold back a bit on his delight, obviously your discomfort is not a good thing, but he can't help being ecstatic that you're actually in his bed.
Leviathan notices because you always stay up really late with him to play video games. Don’t get him wrong, he likes playing with you, like a lot, but whenever he suggests going to bed, you always refuse. “One more game, please, Levi?” Come on, how can he say no to you? It’s just that one game always turns into three and the next thing he knows you’ve played for another hour.
One day he gathers up enough courage to ask you why and when you tell him you can’t fall asleep he immediately softens up. “Well, I, uh, so do you want to, maybe, I don’t know, sleep here?” His face is flushed but he insists that maybe it’ll be easier for you to sleep in the tub instead of your bed. You do sleep better that night, but it's not because of the tub, it's more because of Levi's calming breath and the slow heaving of his chest when he sleeps. After that, you often stay the night when you've played video games together and on the nights you have a particularly hard time falling asleep, you just lay there and listen to him sleep.
Satan reads for you until you fall asleep. He doesn't care how long it takes, he'll let you lay on his chest, while he reads for literal hours and he doesn't stop until he's absolutely sure that you're sleeping.
Like with sleepy MC, he'll begin to research why you can't sleep. He'll ask you if you're feeling stressed, offer to do your homework or if he needs to tell Lucifer to give you fewer chores. If he catches you drinking coffee or energy drinks, he'll tell you that those can actually worsen your sleep quality.
It gets to a point were you have to tell him that he's being kinda annoying about it. He'll frown and apologize. "I was just trying to help but I see that I might have overstepped." He's being dramatic here. Give him a couple of kisses and he's back at it again.
Whenever you wake too early in the morning and simply cannot lay in bed any longer Asmodeus is the one you go to. He's always up early, doing his skincare routine. He lets you sit in his bed, wrapped up in blankets, all bleary-eyed and with messy hair, while he’ll sit by his vanity. He thinks you look absolutely lovely, so sleepy and he'll look at you through the mirror, fighting the urge to smile and accidentally ruin his make-up.
Once he's done, he'll bring you to his chair and offer to do your skincare or makeup if you wear that. He'll take extra care, messaging your skin and shoulders. The sensation sometimes almost lulls you back to sleep.
Beelzebub absolutely hates it when you're cranky or depressed. "What's wrong?" he'll ask and when you tell him it's just because you didn't get any sleep, he gets quite confused. Humans get cranky if they don't get enough sleep? That seems awfully inconvenient...
I like to think that Beel is one of the best cuddlers of the brothers. He just has that build you know? He'll spoon you, wrap his arm around your waist and press kisses to your hair. If you ask, he'll tell you stories about his brothers, slowly lowering his voice to a point where it's just a low whisper. He waits till your breathing slows and he knows you're asleep. Then he'll kiss your head good night and go to sleep himself.
When you tell Belphegor that you have trouble sleeping, he doesn’t really understand you. What do you mean you can’t sleep? But you’re tired? Just go to bed?
Honestly, he’s kind of annoying about it but when he realizes that you genuinely just cannot sleep he apologizes. I don’t remember if this is ever addressed in the game, but I like to think that being around Belphegor actually makes humans kind of sleepy and because of that, naps are really nice with him because you actually manage to get some proper sleep.
Sometimes, Belphie and Beel team up and you all sleep together in the attic. You'll have Belphie facing you, face hidden in the crook of your neck, arms wrapped around you tightly. Then you'll have Beel behind you, an arm thrown over the both of you. It's the perfect combo, that helps you actually sleep through the night.
thank you for reading! <3 find my other stuff here.
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Holy, Holy, Lover Divine
Pairing: Gale x Fem Reader
Summary: You've never felt worthy of praise, until it's Gale kneeling at your feet.
Warnings: Implied sexual content, religious imagery, Gale may get a bit blasphemous ha
Word Count: approx 1300
A/N: Just another little Gale ficlet because I love him so much and this idea has been in my head for ages. Thanks for reading!
In this moment, you feel divine.
The term has followed you around, exaltations such as “saviour”, or “goddess” leaving the lips of those you’d saved. But it had never felt right, never felt like such praise should be heaped upon a mere mortal. Right place, right time, is what you always assumed should be your words. A simple soul who simply had the means to do what needed to be done. Hardly god-like, hardly worthy of the celestial.
But here, in the privacy of your bedchamber, under the gaze of your beloved, you finally understand that you are holy.
“You are beautiful,” Gale breathes, dark eyes roving over your face, your body, “I swear, there is no more magnificent creature on this plane or any other.” You feel your skin heat beneath your new nightgown, a flimsy scrap of gossamer lace you’d chosen with him in mind. It seems to be well appreciated.
“Don’t let the gods hear such blasphemy,” you murmur, wanting to both further expose yourself to him as well as shyly hide away, “a few of them might disagree.”
Gale shrugs, and you watch the motion of his broad shoulders greedily. “Let them hear me. I no longer care what she….what any of them think of me, of who and what I devote myself to. That right was lost long ago.”
Your eyebrows raise, but you are not surprised. Magic may still be bound to a goddess, but your lover has long stopped bending a knee. Prayers are offered not out of love, but duty, necessity. He gives thanks for the Weave, for spells and knowledge. But he hungers for her treasures no more.
She has long lost his piety, and you do not complain.
“Oh?”, you say coyly, shifting so your gown slides further up your thighs. You do not miss Gale’s eyes following the movement intently, and your skin burns with want. “And what are you devoted to now, Gale of Waterdeep? Where does your worship lie?”
Gale strides towards you, slow and measured, like a cat waiting to pounce. You know what he will say, but you want to hear it all the same. You want to bathe in it, this new feeling of righteousness, of being the idol of such great love and passion. This man makes you feel as if you have wings on your back and a halo over your head.
You vow you will not squander it.
“I am in service of a new goddess now,” he says, and mirth twinkles in his lust-glazed eyes. Your lips quirk upward-your wizard of words is about display his prowess.
“This,” he gestures to the room you share, to the bed you’ve come together in more times than you can count, “this is my temple. The sacred place I give my humble sacrifices, make my loving prayers, pledge my undying service.”
He’s close enough to touch now, bare chest within reach of your gluttonous fingers. Before you can grasp what you crave, his catches your hand in his, bringing it to his lips to press small kisses to your fingertips.
“These are my offerings,” he guides your hand to touch his temple, down to his chest, and further, further, until your finger brush over his desire. You whimper eagerly. “My mind, my heart and my body, all given freely and eagerly to please the one who has saved me time and time again from my own folly.”
He drops your hand and nudges your legs apart, sinking to his knees as he slots himself between them. You think you might combust with how hot the flame of passion is burning within you. Gale never fails to set you on fire from the inside out, but it seems tonight he aims to upstage himself.
“This is my altar,” his voice grows more sinful, his eyes even darker, “the place I will kneel in reverence eternal. Day after day, night after night, I will worship here, a thrall in my Lady’s service. For as long as she will have me.”
He leans forward, lips pressing against your inner thigh. You mewl softly, threading your fingers through his silky hair. Encouraged by your ragged breaths, he roams the giving flesh freely, littering your thighs with warm, bruising kisses.
“These are my hymns, my canticles of homage. I will bestow them upon every inch of this heavenly flesh. As many and as often as my Lady allows."
A gentle, teasing kiss is placed over your smallcothes. You gasp and tug him closer, a spark of white hot pleasure shooting up your spine.
“Gale,” you beg, thinking you may just go mad from his teasing, his honeyed words. “Gale, please-“
But instead of continuing, Gale pulls back and surges upwards, capturing your mouth in a heady kiss. You delightedly take what you are given, groaning as his taste explodes on your tongue. You will never get enough of kissing him, you decide. Gale always kisses you like he’s trying to crawl inside of you. Like he's trying to merge not only your bodies, but your very souls as well.
It never fails to set you on fire.
“This is my baptism,” he pants as he breaks your kiss, fingers flexing on your thighs, barely concealed restraint pulled taught like a bowstring. “I am cleansed of my sins, my foolish ideals, my bitter and lonely existence. To feel my Lady's love and desire in every kiss, every touch, every time I am inside of her- it is to be born anew."
Gale does not stay parted from you for long; his lips soon find their way to your neck, his fingers brushing your sensitive skin reverently.
And you are drowning. You whine and whimper and mumble intelligible pleas as your lover ravishes you with lovebites and praises. You fingers tangle in his hair and you pull-the groan that rumbles from his throat nearly makes your eyes kiss the back of your skull.
“Let me worship you,” Gale moans into your skin, pushing the straps of your nightgown down your shoulders. His mouth ghosts over the tops of your breasts. Gooseflesh rises in it wake. "Let me show you my supplication."
"As if you aren't already," you giggle breathlessly, falling back on the bed as Gale crawls over you. You welcome the heat of his body as it hovers above yours, close but not nearly close enough.
"Oh, you know I can do so much more," he grins wolfishly, eager hands helping you to slip off your nightgown. When you are spread nude before him, he slides out of his own trousers, laughing as your eager hands grope at every inch of bare skin they can reach.
"Shall I love you now, my Lady?" he asks, settling between your legs. A gentle hand cups your cheek, and you melt into the tender touch. "It is all I desire."
You brush a stray lock of hair away from his beautiful brown eyes. Happiness bleeds through the air around you, encasing the two of you in a world all your own. A sanctum most sacred and blessed.
"Love me then,” you sigh dreamily, “love me, and know how much I love you in return, you darling, wonderful, worthy man.”
And oh, how you are adored! How your lover makes your body and soul sing, more radiant and joyous than a choir of angels. How he plays your desire over and over, bliss unending, until you are left boneless and spent, a puddle of happiness in his arms.
And as you lay cradled carefully against Gale, enveloped in his ardor, you feel as if you are weightless. There is no more stain upon your soul, no mortal tarnish on your skin. No fear, no insecurity, no wondering. You are eternal. You are blessed.
You are divine.
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BLUR | myg ft. jjk
pairing: boyfriend!yoongi x oc (feat. jungkook)
genre: smut
word count: 17k
summary: one encounter with both of the males heals you enough that you don't become anything but joy.
pinterest board: blur
warnings: dom/sub dynamics, marking, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, cuckold kink, toying with the idea of polyamory, daddy kink, punishment, nipple play, oc gets triggered, face riding, ass play, male masturbation, multiple orgasms, use of butt plug, raw sex, cum eating, clit rubbing
note: i want to thank oc. i've always wanted to pinch jungkook's nose and i got to do that through her. LMFAOFSJLDKFS ANYWAYS—this is the LAST part of the steam series, whoop whoop. finally. this took me so fucking long to write and idk if it even makes sense, which is why i need you guys to let me know everything that you're thinking, feeling, hating, loving. I NEED IT. so pls, send me asks. spam me. thank you. ENJOY READINGGGGG. ₊˚⊹♡
A thin layer of sweat coats your hairline. And inside your skull, momentarily, there aren’t any thoughts—none, whatsoever. They have been swept aside as the feverish evening wind carries your boyfriend’s words through the aroused energy pulsating around your naked form. Around Jungkook’s, too.
Yoongi is still the only one fully dressed. And, adamantly, he’s taken the role of a watcher, shifting the dynamic in such a frantic way that the sole impulse that you find opening within you like buds of tree flowers is to obey. To submit to the role, externalize one that will fit it. To play along like he did, when he caught onto your scheme.
Even though you don’t know how to particularly go about it.
And when Yoongi walks over to the armchair in his living room, plops down on it, angles his head slightly to look at you and waves a hand towards the couch across from him, inviting you to sit, your nescience claws at you. Brutally.
You don’t know if there are any shadows thickening in his headspace because you deem there must be a reason behind his sudden decision to turn things around. He’s been okay with every practice done so far in the playtime—he validated all of them, was in charge the whole time until he gave that control over to Jungkook. You can’t help but worry if there perhaps isn’t a catch.
And the lower your disquiet sinks inside your gut, the higher your distrust of yourself springs, lodging in your throat. You’re not sure anymore if you’re right about anything. What if there is something you’ve done that you completely overlooked in the middle of your pleasure? In the middle of Jungkook’s pleasure?
Once you exchange a heavily-charged look with the puppy, you hope to find a hint in the tenderness of his eyes that would help you figure it out. Though, the more you deepen the scrutiny, the more you’re met with absolute blankness.
He’s as clueless as you.
Bewildered, mostly, that Yoongi let him have the upper hand.
Your finger itches to hook around his, but you only angle your head in the direction of the living room, dubious to listen to your body, intentionally wary. You make the first move and you don’t sit down on the couch like Yoongi motioned you. No, you sink your knees into the space beside his on the armchair, the leather creaking beneath you. Wrap your arms around his shoulders. Study the depth of his gaze as he focuses it on your face, looking for the hint, for anything that would lead you to it. Bury your fingers into his night-tinged hair the way he likes it, the way you like to do it, too. Pull it a little to make known to him that you’re bubbling with uncertainty.
Yoongi merely watches you, borrowing his friend’s stoicism.
You click your tongue, disliking it. “Yoongi,” you drawl out, cupping the sides of his neck, willing his attention to be more of an intimate sort. Just you and him. You need to talk to him about this. Need a peace of mind in order for you to enjoy this. In order to please him in the process as well.
He turns his head behind him, though. To check the whereabouts of his friend. And when you follow the same direction, you discover that his dining space is empty.
You don’t detect any panic in you. Perhaps it’s due to the fact Jungkook never abandoned you before. Or perhaps you’ve healed to the point that it doesn’t bother you anymore, no matter who does it. And what’s more, you think he probably went to pee.
With two fingers on his jaw, you turn his attention back to you. Leave them there. His lips curl up as he tries to purse them, his stoicism fragmenting. Eyes gentle, moonbeams swimming. The sight is so endearing to you that your own mouth mirrors his, butterflies awoken, fluttering their wings in your tummy. This is the man you love. This is the man that’s yours. Yours, only. And you’re alone, intimately, cordially. Just like before.
“Is something the matter, honey?” He tips his chin, irises dilated and looking up at you. Latches his hands onto the fleshiness of your thighs, just below your hip bones.
With your inhale of breath, you muster as much courage as you can. “Have I done something wrong?”
Perplexity writes itself on his softened face. Could it be—
“No, why do you think that, hm?” He narrows his eyes at you playfully, tapping his fingers on the side of your hips. You exhale a breath that loosens your worry a little bit and your mouth rounds. He leans in to peck it. “You’ve been perfect.”
Have you? You’re not so sure—on the contrary, what you’re sure of is the fact you can better yourself. You have to, in order to make your worries dissipate all the way.
And you can fulfill that if you know what role to play.
“Tell me what to do.”
One corner of his mouth tugs ever so slightly to the side and one brow quirks in confusion. “You’re about to get eaten up. Enjoy it—that’s what you are to do.”
You sigh, realizing you should’ve worded it better. That’s precisely what you want to do—enjoy it, but you can’t risk getting lost again. Can’t risk getting submerged. You need him to tell you who you are to be in this new dynamic he established and you don’t want to hear that you should be yourself. If you relax your boundaries, you’ll step into a dangerous territory—and you’ve been there before.
So has he.
“Yoongi, no, I meant—”
He squeezes your muscles. “Don’t be afraid. I’m here, you hear me?” he murmurs, one hand coming up to your hair and curling it behind your ear. And it’s these words that unwittingly, little by little, drive you to drop your own hand, your guard and your worries. The fact that he doesn’t even want to hear your better wording, too, because he understood you the first time. It guides you to think it’s not worth speaking out, not when he evidently knows better.
And it feels nice. To have someone intelligent enough that they know. To have someone care enough that they don’t let you immerse yourself in doubts because they know the type of shit your thoughts consist of sometimes. He remembers everything you unraveled during the therapy sessions. And that feels nice. More than nice.
Your mouth rounds again and you repeat it after him. To acknowledge yourself with it. To swallow it so it streams down your body, where its meaning can unfurl. “You’re here.” Your voice is subdued, unsure, the words foreign on your tongue. You knit your brows while you taste them, unable to identify the flavor. That is until you realize it could offend him. You relax your features right away.
But Yoongi merely watches you with a sympathetic look, one that makes you feel terrible for reacting the way you did.
Not for long, though.
“I know I’ve made a mistake in the past, but that’s not happening again. I’m not leaving you on your own this time,” he says and you realize that is precisely what you needed to hear, what your body needed to consume first in order to recognize the flavor of his reassurance. You caress his face in deep emotion and you try again.
“You’re here.” It’s a mere silken sound for only the both of you to hear, but it matters—it’s enough, it’s perfect. In the distance, you hear a shuffling of feet in the kitchen, the song of the wind gaining momentum, inclining to listen to the expression of love between you—to be a witness of the right thing being done at last. And you can taste the sweetest wine of the ripest of grapes, spiced with the most vibrant of roses. You can taste home; his stability you can lean on.
Yoongi smiles in your grasp, noting the way the words sounded different—more secure. The moonbeams liquify in his waterline. “That’s right. And because I’m here, I’m not letting history repeat itself.” He pinches your cheek, knocking your head back and forth with the well-meaning, ferocious movement. Erases completely the lingering presence of the guard and fears you’ve dropped. You laugh, softly, relieved—so fucking relieved. Joy fills your empty body, energizing you, roses rising in you. Your roses, the ones you know, fraternizing with the unknown flowers that Jungkook planted in you. And you discern that it’s you who’s in your comfort zone, in your safety zone. The males have stepped inside theirs and now you have. You inhale fresh air in your new lungs, exhale your relief. “Say it. So I know you understand.”
“You’re here and you’re not letting history repeat itself.” Beautiful, beautiful words—beautiful consolation and kindness. A pillar of the most exceptional magnificence. Mentally, you rest against it, rest your enfeebled, exhausted body of all your needless worries and false thoughts.
You didn’t do anything wrong. Didn’t make a mistake. Though, if it weren’t for the weak moment, you wouldn’t be here. Wouldn’t have gotten the comfort you didn’t know you needed.
So peculiar, the newness. It dawns on you that it should’ve been like this in the beginning. Healthy conversations, reassurance. Why hadn’t you done this? Why did you jump headlong, bringing along such darkness of—
You close your eyes fleetingly to shut down those thoughts. Forgetting is taking place. Newness is here. Old is gone. Like the verity that he’s here, you repeat it to yourself again and again in your heart. You can’t change what’s happened. You can only move on with the eternal perception that you’ve changed, that you’ve learned. And that’s enough.
You brush your thumb upon the column of his neck. Back and forth, like he did with your cheek. Thankful for him. “You’re here and you’re not letting history repeat itself.”
Yoongi isn’t puzzled you whispered it to yourself again. In fact, he embraces it. Kisses you tenderly, deeply to seal those words. They spread roots in you. Rake through the earth so the roses, the flowers can grow healthily, happily, luminously. You feel them lean into the satin touch of the butterflies that elongate their dusty wings before they curl the membranes around their radiant petals, forming a protection circle. A dose of healing you didn’t expect to receive. Not from him, not now—not now when you’re about to be eaten out by his friend.
It’s so surreal to you. To feel protected like that. To feel safe. Safe to now roam freely in your undiscovered sexuality because you have someone to look out for you, to possibly guide you back if you lose your way. The stability that envelopes you—you can’t bear it; it’s too good to be true. And when you take a deep breath and those roses tremble with excitement in you, in the circle, there’s nothing left for you to do but to accept it because it’s so strong, because it’s unyielding. You couldn’t move it even if you tried. It won’t let you—it’s here to stay. Here to be alongside your boyfriend, protecting you as you venture out on your perverted adventure.
You’ve worked hard to get to this point. And now you get to reap what you’ve sown.
Yoongi grins after the long kiss, proudness emanating out of him and you feel like weeping. You’ve done the right thing, for the very first time. “That’s my good girl.”
The praise does something to you. Stirs you violently, magnifies the intensity of the flapping of the butterfly wings in you. Sends back feeling to the ache between your legs, propped against the linen of Yoongi’s pants. Throbbing, slapping, memories of what has been done to your pussy—you’re a meadow of wildflowers and you’re ready to be pleasured again, however you register a matter that pulls you away from this notion for a moment.
There’s no catch.
Because Yoongi created a new realm for both you and Jungkook with his sense of safety and comfort, there’s nothing for you to fret about. There’s no role for you to play. And, furthermore, who you are meant to be upon this ground is who you’ve been throughout the whole trajectory of your relationship.
A good girl.
Only this time it’s entirely different.
You didn’t want to be yourself because, if anything were to backfire, you thought you’d have the responsibility for it. In addition to that, you thought the normalcy of your sexual life was a no-gone zone for Jungkook, which is why you’ve been racking your brain, trying to come up with ways you could differ it, so Yoongi wouldn’t get jealous.
But things changed so drastically that because Yoongi took control, now you don’t have to be in charge of that. You’re not the artist, you’re not choosing colors for the palette. Yoongi is.
There’s still one more thing that doesn’t add up. And you voice it out. “If you’re not letting history repeat itself, though, why are you letting Jungkook be in control?”
Yoongi grabs your hands and holds them. “I’m letting him be in control of how he does what I tell him to do. I’m in control of the whole situation, honey.”
You suck in a breath. To protect himself, he won’t make the same mistake again; that’s just the person Yoongi is. He’s allowed Jungkook to have the freedom of a bird in the pleasure he wants you to receive from him, but he won’t hesitate to ensnare him if he runs up against something he doesn’t like.
You find that immensely, immensely attractive.
Hot.
The pillar of stability, the warmth of reassurance, the absolute fucking boss—that’s your man. You lid your eyes, swearing, leaning forward to suck onto his lip, kissing him with utter desperation and he lets you. Lets you kiss him. Lets you show him how much you liked that. Growls when your hand creeps to his neglected, clothed length and squeezes it. Hums when you feel him up until you find his tight balls. Responds to your touch—bucks his hips so you focus on them more and you go mad. Interminably, mad.
And when you swirl your tongue around his, you feel a cold, wet hand on your back.
The magnet to your madness. The healer stands by the side of the armchair with a dew-sprinkled face and there’s a feigned, playful jealousy that you feel when you regard him, for the only dew you want on his face is one that’s your own. He washed up in the bathroom—you reckon he did it to cool his desperation, to cool the sweat of arousal that lines his skin, much like yours. You note that it didn’t work, at least not fully, because when you roam your gaze down, you discover he’s still painfully hard. Much like your boyfriend.
You wrap your hand around him and the forbidden, exhilarating feeling of having two cocks in your grasp is too brief for your liking because Jungkook pulls your hand away again. Holds it and leads you towards the couch. You frown at him with a puckish smile, but while he tugs you away, you steal a kiss from Yoongi. A hard, quick kiss that makes him twitch—something that you get to feel before Jungkook grabs you by your pits and throws you on the couch.
You let out a string of giggles, loving the feeling of being manhandled; loving the feeling of Jungkook being in desperate need to eat you out. Your face heats up, your body following suit, the ache between your legs worsening. Yoongi smirks, validating your enjoyment and he adjusts in his seat, which you think is dismal. You don’t want him to be neglected. You want him to be pleasured, too.
The words tumble out of you before you can think them over. “Can you touch yourself for me, baby?”
Yoongi licks his lips. Pauses before he responds. Tortures you like he tortured Jungkook. You spread your legs to provoke him, giving him a show of the shine on your folds. It’s enough for him to palm himself briefly, as if he lost control for a split second. He takes his hand away and places it back on the armrest. “I’ll consider it.”
The boss at play. You swear, closing your legs to squeeze them, to give yourself some sort of relief from the ache you feel. Butterflies go rampant in your tummy, but despite the buzzing tension, you feel content, safe and utterly elated. Happy.
You expect Jungkook to say something, though he merely props a knee on the leather of the couch and spreads your legs how he wants them. He doesn’t lift them, only parts them as far as they can go. You go to grab his length again because you feel a certain magnetic pulling to it, but he catches your hand in time.
“Behave.” He presses your hand firmly to emphasize his scolding before he lets go. Such a stark contrast to the playtime of before. You remember how he wanted you to do the complete opposite. To misbehave. Your body heats up even more, the fire compulsing your hips to sway, asking for attention.
Another set of words tumble out of you unwittingly and you place your hands under your thighs. “I’m sorry.”
The surprise that floods Jungkook’s features is overwhelming to you and in response, you grin, coyly. He strokes the adorable fat of your cheek. “Good girl. That’s what I like to hear.”
You purse your lips and before the fire of that praise can lick your whole body, Yoongi speaks up, too. “Good job, honey. You learned your lesson so well.”
Shock comes first, then fire—vibrant blue fire that scorches you whole. You blush, deeply, squeezing the leather of the couch—the praise and the validation from both males so profuse, so profound that you can’t take it. You hide your widening grin beneath your palms. “Stop,” you drawl, the sound muffled and soft, even though you don’t want them to do anything of the sort.
Jungkook coos, pulls your wrist away, uncovering your rosy, glowy face. Then, he pets your head, fingers sinking into your hair. He forces you to look at him, to see the smile of endearment that bathes his face in light, but he does it so gently that you purr, his hold so stimulating, so titillating—his countenance so lovely, so darkly angelic. Eyes crinkled but still round, still so tender. “Who taught you to have such good manners, huh?”
You swipe your tongue along the top arc of your lip, his gaze flicks to it and and the answer thrums in your belly warmly like a sip of a good wine. It doesn’t unnerve you, doesn’t make you afraid. In fact, it’s so tranquil and so right that you relish every syllable. “Both of you did.”
The rays from the light side penetrate the dark one and healing takes place. Healing that you never thought you’d ever be a witness to. You know that the act of forgetting was supposed to fully sink in all three of you, but your words diverged its path. You swallow warmth and you swallow relief, watch as Yoongi gets up from his seat and mirrors Jungkook’s position, one knee on the leather, hand under your jaw. A soft set of tears rush in at the attention and the realization of what’s actually happening, and when the healer sees them, he lets go of your hair and brushes his thumb across your brow, hand spread across the side of your face. You lean into his palm, so terribly emotional, and when Yoongi plants a delicate kiss on your cheek, your chin begins to quiver. He felt it, too. Felt the gravity of those words that now dulcify his intention to make things right this time. And he kisses you again, prolongs the peck, as if to thank you for your goodness.
When Yoongi lifts his head and bores his mellow gaze into you, it is the same relief that you’ve swallowed that you see saturating his face in effulgence. At last, it has come for him, has come to live in him. At last, it’s here.
You’ve done it, all three of you. Healed from the pain.
Jungkook knits his brows at the sight of the first tear plopping down onto your skin as if it physically pained him to see you cry. And before you can register the movement, he swipes the liquid emotion away and kisses the residue of it, as if it were fate itself that wrote it was meant to pour down on the right side of your face—for Jungkook to collect, for it to seep into his fingerprint.
So much love. The air is thick with it. Your lungs tremble as you take a deep breath. The wind billows in and out, but doesn’t carry it off—intertwines its translucent body with it instead, bringing in a fresh gust of briskness into the atmosphere. No more tears stream down your cheeks; you smile at both of the males—the healer and the boss.
Yoongi remains standing beside you. Takes your hand in his. Says a myriad of silent words of great importance that you cannot decipher as he exchanges a look with Jungkook, who merely nods at them in plain understanding. You don’t have to wonder long what was behind it. Jungkook turns your jawline to him and kisses you softly. Doesn’t let go. Prolongs the kiss until he whimpers onto your mouth, softened, too, by the healing that occurred. No tongue, just the warmed silver of his lip ring, the smooth tenderness of his mouth and the most affectionate emotion exuded into the kiss.
The pop of the withdrawal is all you hear. You keep your eyes closed. Feel him take that kiss onto your neck, your collarbone, to your sternum. Feel the tightening of your boyfriend’s grip around your hand as Jungkook drags his lips down your tummy, where the healing vibrates and he says hello to it with his tongue, makes it feel safe. Feel the tightening compulsion to watch him as he does it and you obey your body.
Jungkook is kneeling before you. Brows furrowed, expression so terribly serious as he understands how significant this part of you is. Sinks his whimpers into your skin while he sucks it and it’s only when you run your fingers through his silky hair that he looks up at you. And the sight of his wet eyes breaks you.
He’s as emotional as you.
Your throat constricts. If it weren’t for him, none of this lively beauty would take place—and if it weren’t for Yoongi, too. It is their work of art and you’re the one doused in colors of most resplendence. And you tell them, your body urges you to, while you squeeze Yoongi’s hand and caress Jungkook’s hair. “I’m so grateful for you both.”
The healer whimpers again, letting go of your skin, leaving behind a purple memory of this heartfelt loveliness. His tears don’t escape the confinement of his waterline—he blinks them away. Blinks them even more rapidly when Yoongi places a hand on Jungkook’s bare shoulder and he gapes at him in disbelief—in disbelief that his closest friend is touching him with such gentleness after everything. You don’t allow yourself to think of the past, of the last violent touch that you saw, but you can’t help the emotion rushing in your eyes. You let go of Yoongi’s hand to clasp the one on Jungkook’s shoulder, deepening the love.
And you press a loud, exaggerated kiss on Jungkook’s forehead to make him laugh—like he did that one time by talking about his worm. To distract him, if there are perhaps any overbearing thoughts in his mind.
Now his disbelief is directed towards you. Mouth parted, wrinkles between his brows. You burst into laughter and it triggers his. Yoongi’s, too. It’s your breasts that bounce now and none of the pairs of eyes flick to it, fixed still on the glamorous gracefulness that blossoms out from your face. Jungkook shakes his head, cheeks awash with redness, irises glinting with a spark you’ve never seen before, and you consider your job done. He tells you to lay back down, but his grin lingers.
Yoongi takes your hand back in his and you perceive that he needs it, that he needs to hold you. You smile at him, fluttering your lashes, blowing him an air kiss, and he nudges his nose against yours to remind you to enjoy this. You begin to prepare yourself, taking a deep breath—
It hitches in your throat harshly. Jungkook kitten licks your clit with deep pressure, just once, lifting his head to watch your reaction. The reverberation of the pleasure causes you to moan and he smirks at you—what’s worse, he winks at you, so terribly smug that he coaxed such sound like that by one lick and it makes you tremble, needing more. He can see it, but he tortures you, keeping his hands on your thighs.
And when Yoongi reaches behind himself and sinks your headband with yellow kitty ears into Jungkook’s hair, you’re done for. You must’ve left it there when you were doing your makeup. Jungkook doesn’t acknowledge it, however. Too drunk by his first proper taste of you to do so, glossy eyes transfixed by that flesh of yours.
It suits him so well that you coo at him, grasping his neck to pull him back to your cunt, but he doesn’t let you. Your heart begins to thump with hard beats and you grow desperate, whining, looking at Yoongi to make him do something.
He merely smiles at you. “Be patient.”
At his words, Jungkook lifts your legs and begins to focus on the back of your thigh, marking it, groaning against your skin, inhaling your mango scent. He roams his tongue all over and you whine louder, finding it so unfair that you have to wait for it, that he reinforces your neediness by those hard kisses and sucks, by his sounds, breaths and control. You grind your hips, the ache between your legs made unbearable by your helplessness and Yoongi stops you by placing his hand on your lower belly.
“Did I not tell you to be patient? Be good,” Yoongi scolds, lowly, rubbing the place in slow circles. Your whine is bratty, but you nod your head, pouting, halting all your movements, becoming still like the wind that has come to stay and observe the unfolding of your daydream.
At your submission, Yoongi creeps a finger to your wet clit, testing you. Doesn’t do anything beyond that and once he sees you’re well-behaved, he plunges the same finger into your mouth, giving you a taste of Jungkook’s saliva. You mewl, sucking it. The healer watches the act in deep thought, your skin in his mouth, and you’re certain an idea flashes in his mind.
Jungkook straightens to his full height, proving you right and the feeling is utterly gratifying. Reaches behind him and grabs the tall glass filled with water that you never noticed he put on the coffee table. Yoongi withdraws his digit and inspects his friend’s doing with curiosity. Jungkook takes a small sip of it without taking his gaze off of you, tips it to your mouth right after and you realize he did it more so it wouldn’t overflow, as you take a well-needed sip of your own, rather than to refresh himself. That is until he does something that completely shocks you, ripping away your delightful proudness of being proven right.
It is something between a yelp and a moan when the coldness of the water drops onto the skin of your chest, scattering it with tiny, pellucid pearls that almost pool by your violent heart. The demo before the full game; your breathing gains as much speed as the throbbing in your clit. Jungkook inclines the glass again, holds it as a longer, thicker trail trickles down your body—from the middle of your breasts, across your tummy until it reaches your cunt. And the contact of the liquid with the hotness of your swollen seashell? You groan, rolling your body. So much that you slap your hands down on the leather, gripping it with all your might, needing something stable to hold onto, to release your pent-up desperation.
Amused, Jungkook sets the glass down and kneels back down. Licks a long, torturous stripe from your clit up to those pearls, following the path he mapped out while zeroing his stare into yours. You part your mouth, your madness closing around you again, puffing out short breaths and subdued, desperate moans and when Jungkook closes his lips over your neck and begins to suck, you turn your head towards Yoongi and roll your eyes back. Struggle to keep them open as you feel that muscle of his tracing patterns on the sensitive skin and Yoongi knows. He knows how good it is for you and he kisses you like he means it, mimicking what his friend is doing around your tongue.
Your sounds grow in volume. Your desperation, too, in intensity.
“Please.”
Jungkook emerges from your neck but wraps a hand around it, nonetheless. Is as close to you as your breath, his nose bumping into yours. He squeezes your column firmly before he curtly turns your jawline away from Yoongi. You wonder if he can feel your heartbeat under his forearm, if he can feel how desperate she is for him, too—in a way you don’t understand. “Please what?”
He opens your mouth wider and spits.
Shock comes first like a thunderbolt, spreading across your veins, paralyzing your body. Then it blurs into a tumultuous arousal that seizes you whole, that makes you beg for more. No one has ever spat in your mouth, not even Yoongi. You’ve never liked it in porn, but experiencing it first-hand gives it another meaning. The dominance, the absolute film of lustfulness caking his face, the estimable seriousness that wafts off of him. He’s turned you into a boneless putty, his putty, and you want him to do it again.
“Spit in my mouth again, please—please.”
Jungkook grunts. Shadows surround your vision as you narrow your eyes in sheer pleasure at his sound, biting your lip to cage in your worsening desire for him—but he saves your lip, pulls it away from your teeth and opens your mouth wide. You ogle him as he sloshes his saliva in his mouth above you before he taps your tongue, signalizing you to stick it out for him. Once you listen, he spits hard onto the muscle that waited for it. You moan, satisfied, swallowing it right away and showing him.
He pokes his own tongue in his inner cheek, fire blazing in his as equally narrowed eyes, the act of spitting in your mouth making him beyond fucked out. You can sense it deep in your core and your obsession with it grows.
“You’re filthy, but so good. It’s making me lose my fucking mind,” he says, hazily, fingers squeezing your throat for a heartbeat. The momentary lack of oxygen gives you a perfect demonstration of his words and the moans you let out are so breathy, so choked out that he takes your madness and makes it his own—loosening his grip and kissing you nastily, licking into your mouth, both hands traveling south to your breasts and kneading them harshly, pressing your nipples between his fingers.
And when you utter the words rising vehemently in your throat, he takes the demonstration to otherworldly levels. “Thank you, Daddy.”
Jungkook cocks his head at you and drags his teeth painfully across his bottom lip, swearing. His eyes darken, at last. Thrill sizzles beneath your skin and you feel an upsurge of adrenaline, the aftertaste of the title so sweet, so delicious on your tongue. “As if you didn’t deserve it already, I’m gonna take you to heaven for that.”
You laugh softly, brushing your fingers through his hair, anticipation joining the adrenaline. “You like me calling you that?”
He hums his agreement and you don’t feel Yoongi, you don’t even feel his hand; your vision, surroundings, persona blurring so rapidly. “Daddy’s gonna make you feel so good. All you have to do is come for him as many times as you can. Thank him that way. Is that clear?”
You shiver at the use of third person. Never thought you’d find it as alluring as you do. Brush your thumb across his brow like he does it to you. He coos, kissing your hand, sinking his body lower. Touched by the gesture. “Yes, Daddy. That won’t be too difficult for me to do.”
Jungkook gives you a smile that envelops you in an aura, where it’s just you and him. You don’t have the brain cells, nor the will, the desire to stop it. “That’s a good girl. On her best behavior for us.”
It wakes you up and the feeling of Yoongi’s grip on your hand returns, the circle of the aura withering. Disappointment descends in your gut, one that is soon forgotten when Jungkook sucks your clit into his mouth.
The squeak you let out would be embarrassing if you weren’t so out of your mind, but the confidence it came out with, the seductiveness and beauty—Jungkook shows you how much he liked the sound by humming against your sensitivity, the appreciation smothering every fiber and nerve ending of your body, hoisting you up towards the canopy of clouds. He swirls his tongue around the flesh, sucking deeper before he opens his mouth wider and licks you all over, closing his eyes and moaning, reveling in the feeling of you, the scent of you and the warmth of you. He toys with your lips, chuckling in delight when he acknowledges himself with them, burying his mouth completely in them, kissing them, caressing them with the puffiness of his pillows.
He’s pussydrunk—and the sight of it intoxicates you just the same.
And then he pauses. Kisses your clit. The peck so ardently earnest that he sucks it in the process. Does it again and again until he tinges your femininity in the faintest, daintiest, most dreamiest tone of red, prettier than any flowers you’ve ever seen—so akin to the wash of color scattering along his cheekbones. Then, he rubs his face in you, vigorously, moaning against you so intensely that your sounds become one.
Raising his head, features drenched in your dew—just like you wanted it—his chain taps your cunt in long staccatos. The pleasure is so dizzying, along with his looks, that you feebly jump at every contact. It reminds you, vividly, of the spanks you like so much. “Pussy so fucking wet and pretty for me. I’m gonna destroy you.”
It’s only at this time that you hear Yoongi smug but quietly laugh. He draws close to your ear and his hardened breath steals your attention from his friend’s praise. “He makes me wanna taste you, too, and make you come repeatedly on my tongue. Fuck, honey. I want that so bad.”
You mewl, about to burst at the seams, unable to take the double relish given to you from both men. Yoongi latches his mouth onto your neck, causing your eyes to roll back, and it sparks up some kind of competition in Jungkook, for when he dives back in—you scream.
The flicks of his tongue are so brutal that your lungs heave. You take many breaths but you can’t catch them, the heat from Yoongi’s kisses and the rapidness of Jungkook’s movement numbing your body to the point that you’re rendered powerless.
Jungkook alternates between fast flicks and long swipes from your entrance to your bundle of nerves, parting your lips so he can have easy access. And being spread like that, attended to by two males that you have strong attachment to, the kitty ears bobbing up and down as Jungkook devours you—your orgasm chases you down, the knot in your lower belly pulled so taut that it takes a mere heartbeat for it to snap completely.
And when you come, Jungkook laps you up, grunting in insatiable need for more. Your body violently shudders, but he keeps going, widening his swirls of tongue around your clit before he rubs it with the tip of his nose and—
He begins to fuck you with his tongue.
You don’t feel anything. Not your heartbeat, not your struggling lungs—just the hard jabs of his tongue inside your hole, pushing you closer and closer to paradise. Not heaven, you’ve been there, but to something beyond. A paradise of the warmest color and sunlight, swaying trees and a pool of the most refreshing water.
And Yoongi’s noise of joy is the bird that flies past in that place, dipping to its reflection. “Daddy’s so good he’s giving it to you better than I ever did.”
It’s those words that make you come again.
He laughs, fondles your nipples, holds you steady as Jungkook prolongs your orgasm by strenuously sucking your clit and you sob hard, tingling all over, senses gone, everything gone. You feel so lightweight, so airy, dopamine and oxytocin making your head all fucked up. Happy, satisfied.
Jungkook withdraws, kissing your clit one last time, licking it slowly. “You came so hard for Daddy, well done,” he praises, mouth wet, face as colorful as the meadow of flowers in you, gleaming iridescently. “But I’m not done with you.”
You moan, wanting more, badly. Take him by the neck with both hands and draw him closer to you, the chain stimulating your breasts. You kiss him hungrily and the taste of your dew causes you to let out such obscene sound that Jungkook and Yoongi growl simultaneously. Dulciness, with a hint of piquancy that makes you even hornier—the slipperiness of his mouth making it worse. “I want to ride your face. Please, please, let me.”
Jungkook smiles at you, pecking your lips, faintly. Cocks his brow at Yoongi. “You’re gonna give the princess what she wants?”
Your eyes follow the sharp line of his jaw and you bite your lip. Don’t think twice about taking that skin into your mouth, licking it over, watching as Jungkook closes his eyes at the contact. Musk, the forest, wood—you carry your still lingering hunger and unravel it upon the spot beneath that strong jaw, devouring that scent of his, aware of how his breath lodges in his throat. You mimic what he did to your clit there, enjoying every second of it, enjoying his reaction as he hums and thumbs your clit, waiting for Yoongi’s approval.
And you quicken it by begging for it, squeaking little sounds, beckoned by that slow motion of his digit. “Please, Yoongi. I want it so bad.”
Badly enough that you force your head away and look at him. As much as you thought there would be puzzlement to his face, what you detect is far more sinister. His smirking mouth tells you that he is simply pleased with the way you’re begging, with the way he gets to torture you. And not just you, but Jungkook as well. Ego high—his control at full play. You don’t blame him, not at all. It must be delicious to him in the middle of all this healing.
“Ride him well, make me proud.”
The joy springs in you so fast, but you don’t have the time to take in it. Yoongi gets up from the couch and you apprehend that you were very, very wrong.
You haven’t healed to the point that it doesn’t bother you when Yoongi leaves.
Your panic is so enormous that you rise, your movement so rigid that Jungkook stumbles, his arm quick to wrap around your chest, pulling you back onto the leather beside him. And you don’t see the twist of his brows, the deep clefts of his dimples while he scowles. No, you watch your boyfriend’s back as he makes his way to the dining table, your heart expanding in your throat.
“Tell her at least where the fuck you’re going,” Jungkook grumbles, ever the healer who senses your emotions and the fact he stood up for you like this makes you mouth merely round, your otherwise triggered trauma unsettling the rest of your feelings.
Yoongi returns a moment later with the butt plug and lube in his hand and with a solemnly guilty face. Kisses the top of your head in apology, but it’s not enough. Not when you can’t hear your heartbeat. Not when you can’t swallow. Not when your mind is so numbed by the recurring panic that you cannot even hear your mind.
“Don’t do that to me,” you whisper, but the words are firm, piercingly sharp, important and gravely, so much that Jungkook, with sticky hands by his sides, stills next to you.
Yoongi cups your chin, a dominant gesture, but you glare at him—masculine strength being the last thing you need right now. You may have foolishly thought your healing was complete and as much as it knifes you to be proven wrong, it’s the fact you expected more from him that hurts the most, especially after he promised you he’d be here. But maybe it’s foolish altogether, to be in hidden demand of him to tell you of his whereabouts, notably when you never voiced it out for him, not once during the therapy sessions, not once during the course of this perverted adventure—the matter of the gravity of your abandonment issues.
You point your anger at yourself and fall to a dark, dark abyss.
And you pushed yourself there on your own because you were incapable of reminding yourself of Yoongi’s reassurance, mind too blurred, too fucked out to remember.
“I’m sorry, honey. I’m still here. I never left you.”
You nod because he’s right. “I know now. I didn’t remind myself. It’s my fault.” It’s as much of a surprise to your ears as it is to Yoongi’s. He widens his eyes at your honesty before tenderness swims past. “I’m really sensitive right now.”
Jungkook rubs circles on your back with his thumb and you welcome his touch, his warm energy.
Yoongi caresses your face. “It’s okay, it’s not your fault. What we’re doing here is pretty overwhelming. But I’m here. I got you.” His words hold the same firmness that yours did and it’s difficult for you to grasp how they’re mending you, how they’re swooping that darkness in their arms and flinging it away from your reach. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Not one thing. Let me make it better for you, hm? You want me to make you feel better?”
Emptiness plummets down your body, in place of the darkness and the anger, and the moonbeams in his eyes engulf it, filling it with its pale light. All you can do is nod, too weak to express any other form of affirmation.
Yoongi kisses the place on your cheek beside your ear, slipping inside his words. “Good girl. The best. I’ll make you feel better. I’ll make you happy again, my love.” You sob at the pet name, at the tenderness, at the comforting feeling of Jungkook’s hand on your arm, pulling you back so you lean against his chest, participating in your healing. The round valley of his tattooed bicep nudges you in your cheek as he cages you in and you nuzzle your face into it, hooking both of your hands on his forearm. Musk, forest and wood suffusing your senses, along with a strong dose of safety. “That’s it, lean against him like that. Daddy will help you forget, too. Spread your legs for us.”
You do as he says, needing what he’s promising you—needing it from them both. Maybe then, when it’s from such a vast source, will you get your full healing.
Yoongi squirts a good amount of lube on his fingers, smearing it on your pussy. The coldness of it enlivens you and you lean your head back against the hardness of Jungkook’s chest, pressing your lips against his bulging muscles. And when Yoongi begins to massage your clit in slow circles, the healer tightens his hold around you, hand gripping your shoulders, the other one gliding down your tummy and staying there. Nipples pebbled against his forearm, breasts full and squished, your form safe, tucked, pleasured in the whole enormity that he is—you relax, giving yourself over to the delight of your boyfriend’s fingers.
He sinks two of them inside you, stuffing you to the brim and pausing there. Jungkook sneaks his towards your bundle of nerves, resuming the circles, breaths hot against your scalp, gaining pleasure from pleasuring you, especially so when your healing is the primary goal behind it.
And when Yoongi begins to fuck you, his hand drops from your shoulder and settles over your tit, pinching your nipple between the knuckles of his thumb and forefinger. You cry out and it drives your boyfriend to pump his digits harder—to the point that you can’t see the in and out motion, the pace so fast it becomes a blur.
“Let go, honey, come on, let it go for us,” Yoongi murmurs, putting his whole body into his intention; you would move along with him, too, if Jungkook weren’t holding you so tightly. “You feel so good around my fingers. So tight, so wet. Such a good girl, getting what you deserve.”
Jungkook quickens his circles, gruff groans muffled against your scalp. “You can do it, sweetheart. I know it feels good when we touch you like this.”
Your body drips in sweat and only when Yoongi agrees, pistons his fingers faster into you do you fully let go. Your anger, your trauma, your darkness leaves you in the form of your dew and Yoongi collects it in his hand. Doesn’t stop fucking you, in fact encourages another one and you spill until your wetness overflows from his hand. Eyes rolling back, hips lifting, legs spreading even further apart. Both men praise you, but you can’t hear them—your senses silent.
They come back to you when Yoongi licks his digits clean, swallowing your pain. Doesn’t waste time and turns you around, your sore, sensitive body colliding into Jungkook’s. And like him, he dives into your pussy, licking you clean, not having enough of your darkened taste.
You’re so out of it that you can only focus on the brush of Jungkook’s hand down your hair and the overstimulation that seizes you, that you can’t do anything about other than take it. “Coming so well, so many times for us. You feel better?”
You can’t answer his question, not when Yoongi begins to trace your tiny, virgin hole with his tongue, giving you a new kind of pleasure that you’ve never felt before. Your eyes whisk to the back of your head and Jungkook cradles it, understanding whooshing past his eyes—understanding that you can’t speak, not when you’re experiencing something so extensive. He smiles down at you, squishing your cheeks. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Fuck, you look so pretty.”
Your choked out moans are enough of an affirmation for him. He coos. Then, a squirt of lube. A finger slowly going in. A gasp, a warm breath that Jungkook inhales, feeling it with you. The uncertainty in your eyes that he instantly smooths out. “You can take it. You’re such a good girl, why wouldn’t you be able to take it? Just relax. I got you.” He kisses your nose and you want to weep in joy, so overcome with it all.
Per his reassurance, your round muscle relaxes and sucks him in. And when he begins to fuck you, you can’t contain your sounds. So lewd, so dirty, and Jungkook emboldens you by scrunching up his features, groaning with you, taking breaths with you. You give in, entirely, feel another orgasm coming, but Yoongi rips it away. Wants you to come around the thicker toy.
The coldness of it makes you tremble, although the hunger both of the males awakened in you for it drives you to move your hips back, helping Yoongi insert it in. It takes a few tries, a few ins and outs before you welcome in it, before the fullness enthralls you so much that you become even needier, even more confident and seductive.
Yoongi presents you to his friend, but each movement you make causes you to be more desperate than you’ve been the entire sultry night. Everything is heightened—every touch, every enjoyment of praise, every sliver of attention and all you want is to be fucked. Brutally, ravagedly fucked.
To absorb the sight of you as you’re positioned on your hands and knees, Jungkook begins to make love on the skin of your behind with his tongue. You feel every word of apology compressed into it. For every bruise, for every red splodge, for every acute pain caused, no matter how much you enjoyed it in the moment. It’s just between you and him, shielded by the premise of desire stirred by your adorned tiny hole. And you keep it that way, whimpering for him sweetly, validating it for him. Tucking it safely into every chamber of your heart.
Then, he strokes the flesh, replacing the bad memories with good ones—replacing the past with the present time. Lies down between your legs and pushes your hips down onto your face.
And you ride him. His tongue, his nose. Fondle the kitty ears askew on his head. Let his moans envelop around those chambers of your heart, protecting them. Let his eyes seal your scorching, enchanting femininity with all its spirited confidence. And once he pacifies the grinding movement of your hips and takes control, palming your breasts, lips sucking your clit, tongue toying with it, you come in seconds that are not pathetic in nature, but outright exhilarating.
You lean back against Yoongi, out of breath. He wraps his hand around your throat. “What do you want now, honey? You want to get fucked?”
You hum, the idea clutching your body in tight excitement. “Yes. Badly. Please.”
At your words, Jungkook begins to tug at his length and the needy movement reverberates throughout your entire body. You coo at him, enjoying the view and you get on your knees in front of the couch to watch him, inhaling his sounds like he did yours.
“You want us to take turns? He stops, as if he was seconds away from coming, and you wrap your lips around him, letting him know how much you like the idea—at which he trembles, pulling you away. You grin at him in pure joy. “Like the sound of that?”
“Fuck yes. Please. Both holes.”
Jungkook hisses, round, dark eyes rolling back for a split moment, losing himself—thumb swiping across your mouth once he comes back. “Daddy’s so fucking needy for you. Come here.”
He manhandles you. Like a child he carries you to the dining space and bends you over the table. You turn your head to see where Yoongi is and he slowly swaggers towards you and Jungkook, popping his button open and pulling out his length. Tip red and painfully swollen, length long and hard—longer than you’ve ever seen it—balls tight. And when Jungkook begins to fuck you sluggishly with the butt plug, you grip the wood of the table with all your strength, fingertips white, and watch as it drives Yoongi to fuck his fist.
The same fist he cups under your chin when he reaches you. “Spit.”
And you do—at the same time that Jungkook forces out the silver toy, tongue immediately coming to whirl around the stretched muscle. Like before, as Jungkook fucks you there, Yoongi fucks his fist. The sounds that spill out of all three mouths are simultaneous, creating a harmony fitting just right for the paradise you find yourself in. It’s such a vigor that he eats your ass with—he does it much differently than Yoongi. Hungry and feral, he again buries his face in your ass, squeezing the flesh, before he drills the muscle with fast, strong jabs. You can’t see anything, the pleasure so intense, so darkly intense and heavily pressured that your vision remains perpetually in the back of your head. Your orgasm closes down upon you swiftly, at once, when he rubs your clit with all four fingers, not expecting it at all as no flashes danced across that night-doused canopy of nothingness before your eyes, no body heat nor pressure rose. Jungkook secures your release by slipping the butt plug back in, smacking his mouth in delight. You slump against the table, boneless.
Jungkook takes your arms and pins them behind your back, angling the hot tip of his cock at your entrance. “You ready for this?”
Your yes is but a tweet.
Jungkook hums, breaths hard. “You want this cock?”
This time, your yes is a louder screech, vibrating through the whole apartment.
“Hm, I’m gonna stretch you out for him. Make your hole nice and big for all the cum we’ll dump you with. You’re gonna take it all like the good girl you are, aren’t you?”
Both of your holes, your muscles, your organs clench at his words and you can’t halt the litany of vulgar words and agreement from pouring out. His grip around your intertwined forearms is deathly and when he fills you to the brim, tip kissing your cervix, walls stretching around his thick girth little by little and gives you a singular, hard stroke that shakes the table, you scream so loud that the sound echoes around the room, carrying it out into the feverish night.
Your words are jumbled, a perfect mess, and it takes more than a few tries for you to get them out coherently. “You’re—you’re giving me all of it?” you ask, because if there’s more inches for you to take, you’ll die.
Jungkook chuckles, darkly, lips at your ear, his body heat enveloping yours like a chunky blanket. Sneaks a hand to your hip bone. Sinks a little deeper until his pelvis touches yours, his heat spreading into all of your pores. You gasp. “I’m giving you every.” Thrust. “Fucking.” Thrust. “Inch.” Thrust. “And it’s all yours, sweetheart.”
You’re breathless, weak, and it’s a slow crescendo, the way he begins to roll his hips, the way he straightens and the fresh wind goes for the imprint of sweat of your and his origin on your back, cooling it, though he rips the briskness away almost instantaneously, repeating his hard stroke, the table banging against the wall. Doesn’t give you the time to prepare.
“Can you take it?” he asks, along with that dark chuckle again. Your hands begins to tingle due to the way he’s gripping your wrists, your blood at a standstill. “Can you take us both, huh?”
Brutal thrust. Just what you wanted. He takes you by the throat and presses you against his chest, kissing you with such vulgarity that you moan into his mouth, the fullness you feel only heightening it. He grinds in response, hands descending to your breasts, kneading them, pinching both of your nipples between his knuckles and thumbs. “Pretty fucking girl.”
You whine.
He withdraws, then. Motions over to Yoongi. The loss disappoints you.
A man of his word, Jungkook stretched you enough for Yoongi to easily slip inside you to the hilt. You expect him to give you a few strokes before giving you over to his friend, and you prop your hands on the table to ready yourself for it, for Yoongi’s hunger as he’s the only one who hasn’t felt any pleasure over the course of the adventure.
But Yoongi only grips himself and pulls out.
A thicker length. To the brim. A slender one. And they repeat it until all you can hear is the madness of their aroused laughter, their grunts and their pants. Hands all over you. The feeling is so overwhelming that everything becomes a blur. You don’t know whose hand is touching you, whose mouth is kissing you, whose cock is drilling you, senses ascending to a place beyond the paradise—
And then you feel both of their tips toying with your abused hole, acting, feignedly—drawing in and out, never fully penetrating.
A short-lived moment that causes you to forget who you are.
“Oh, god,” you drawl, slumping against the wood, helpless. They continue to take turns in fucking you fluidly, the symphony of your slick so loud, so filthy to your ears. You’re numb to the point that you don’t peep a sound, disoriented and so adrift in the place beyond paradise that they took you to.
Jungkook takes control once he hears your call for help. Begins to piston his length inside you rapidly until stars take shape across your vision, wrapping a forearm around your neck similarly to the way he did in the middle of your healing, digging crescent moons into your shoulder. Stops your head from knocking back and forth furiously. You feel his sweat drip down his pelvis—and with each hard thrust, its pearls jump over to your skin, trickling down your trembling legs. The pressure in your core is but a heartbeat away from bursting. You sense it—and you sense it vehemently.
“Are you gonna come around my cock or around his, hm? Whose is it gonna be, sweetheart?”
Your body answers him for you, your walls tightening around him so resolutely that Jungkook stills, whimpering onto your neck. You come so hard that there is absolutely nothing else that you hear but that whiny sound—and all you can see is the stars gaining vibrant colors to their pointed shapes, various, various colors that blind you. Colors that, like you, get dumped with hot, ivory, thick cum.
Your orgasm triggered his.
You mewl like a little kitty cat, so pleased that he came in you, so pleased that you felt it, that you felt the twitching of his cock. Pleased that when you gape at him, you can see how spent he is, content and illuminated like those stars.
You want to lick him up. You want to taste that glow on your tongue.
His cum drips out of you when you turn around. Jungkook collects it with two of his fingers and pumps it back inside you. The look you give him is almost predatory, so awfully fierce that he grows faintly timid, post-nut clarity cocooning him in a soft aura, bringing his puppy nature back to him.
You sit back down on the table and spread your legs for your boyfriend, but your gaze remains fixed on him. Blindly, you reach for Yoongi’s hand, drawing him closer, and he happily obliges your silent command. Lines himself up at your entrance and pumps Jungkook’s cum deeper into you.
You let the puppy see the exhilaration springing up your body, tugging the corners of your mouth to each side. The glint in your eyes. The pure joy that you feel. Then, the falling of that expression as it blends into a depiction of your pleasure—furrowed brows, pout, narrowed lids. You don’t take your eyes off of him. Not even for a second.
In fact, you curl your fingers in beckoning. And when he comes to you, you lick a stripe of the sweat coating his defined abdomen, tongue rolling around the valley of his hard muscle. Kiss the skin before you suck it into your mouth, moaning when Yoongi goes all in—fucking you with all of his energy. The taste of his glow only betters the experience, but you don’t think you can come again. You enjoy it, nonetheless.
And when you turn your attention to your boyfriend, deeming he deserves it—Jungkook steals it in typical fashion. “Feels good?” Light, much bigger than yours, covering his eyes. You nod, humming, girlishly so—the sound pitched. “You’re gonna come again? For him?”
You consider it an impossible task, but for him you’ll do anything. “I’ll try.”
Jungkook makes a sound of approval, leans in and kisses you gently. Yoongi turns your chin to him and as soon as your lips touch his, you feel his cock twitch. Unlike Jungkook, he fucks you through his orgasm, groaning loudly into your mouth and you reach to the place, where you’re connected and squeeze his balls, wanting his cum, needing it.
And when Yoongi emerges from his bliss, he smiles at you, breathing out a soft laugh. Features relaxed, drowsy. You give him a smile, too, the same tiredness engulfing you.
Slinking out of you, you discover he came so vastly that his male essence trickles out of you. You graze a finger across your slit and you gather so much of it that as you take your hand towards your mouth, it plops onto your stomach. You giggle, high on the hormones released through your body, high on the happy males watching you, high on life—high on rightness. The joy doesn’t even let you wrap your lips around your finger, adamant on showing them how well they gratified you by keeping them stretched in a dopey grin.
They’re so endeared by you that the same expression graces their faces. Exchanging a single glance, they start at once—picking you up like a child. Yoongi by your legs, Jungkook by your pits and it’s him, the healer, who leads the way to the bathroom, walking backwards hurriedly.
Though promptly, when putting you down, your legs are so sore, so weakened that if it weren’t for their arms, you’d fall onto the tiles. Giggles and obscenities are swallowed by the crooning sound of the streaming hot water in the shower and you sigh so deeply once it touches your skin. It alleviates the ache of your muscles, alleviates the throbbing memory of the last time you were under that burning cascade—especially when Yoongi twists your body, making you face Jungkook; especially when he says the words that quicken your heartbeat.
“Wash her clean.”
Making things right. Erasing that afternoon that ended in blood and bruises.
The wet, puppy eyes you give to Jungkook are enough for him to do as Yoongi says, mirroring your mien, greatly affected by the permission, by the act of something so forbidden untangling its inextricable knot. It happened so suddenly that he doesn’t truly believe he’s allowed to do it, hands shaking by his sides, clenched into fists. It is only when Yoongi begins to shampoo your hair that he’s spurred to do something.
And you help him. With a thudding heart and tight emotion lodged in your throat, you hand him your favorite almond-scented body wash. He doesn’t tear his gaze away from you when he spreads the aroma on your sternum. Doesn’t blink once, doesn’t let his eyes wander south to your body—as if it was sacred, as if it was not meant to be looked at with lust in this intimate scenario.
And you don’t feel fire when the heat of his hands glides down your neck, your shoulders and your arms. You feel something else entirely, something you can’t really pinpoint. Something holy, something so immensely heavenly. Maybe it’s brought about by the fact that he doesn’t touch your intimate parts—not your breasts, not your vulva. The only time he comes near to it is when he leads you into his chest and carefully, while peeking down, tries to pull out the forgotten toy. You sense Yoongi’s hands on your backside, watching over, and the feeling of being rid of it is so uncomfortable that you cringe against his pec, squeezing him hard, hugging him with everything in you. Jungkook makes gentle sounds for you, encouraging you and it relaxes your body enough that it lets go of the toy.
Grabbing your shoulders, he studies your emotions. Sees only your same old tiredness and he pecks you, descending onto the tiled floor to cleanse you of your stickiness. Isn’t grossed out by the male essence that isn’t his. Kisses your trembling muscles on the apex of your thigh. Cradles your foot, massages it. The other one, too.
And when Yoongi rinses out your shampoo and the bubbles of your almond body wash, Jungkook tells him, gravely, “Wash her where she needs it.”
You’re so touched by the fact he doesn’t dare to lay a hand there in a non-sexual environment that it doesn’t leave any space for shock to come through. Your finger itches to hook around his, but you take one step further—you slide your hand into his. And like a child, you let yourself be washed in between your legs as Jungkook, like a father, watches over it.
Once you’re clean, the males take their turns. You observe the bubbles, the white foam, their veined hands gliding along their glistening bodies and, alternating, you touch them, helping them in a way. Touch the love bruise upon Jungkook’s abdomen; touch the indistinct happy trail on Yoongi’s. Rinse them off.
Needing to be held, you guide Jungkook’s hands to your waist and fold your arms around Yoongi’s shoulders, but both males think differently. Squishing you in the middle of them, they hug each other, each head buried in each crook of your neck. You feel their hearts beat as one and it nearly lulls you to sleep, its healing beauty soothing you to the point that your lids become heavier. And the three of you stand there, in a cozy, homely embrace, until coldness wraps around you, too.
They let you do your thing on your own.
Once you come out of the shower, Yoongi kisses you and asks you if he should bring you any clothes. You merely shake your head and he leaves it at that, following Jungkook out of the bathroom.
You lather your body in your mango butter in your aloneness. Blowdry your hair. Do your skincare. Note that there aren’t any thoughts in your brain, just deep, content silence swimming around with happy hormones. You’re so grateful for it that you could weep.
To bed, you wear your newest purchase. A pink lacy camisole with matching bodycon shorts. You slide your feet into your fluffy slippers and as you make your way into the living room, you hope with all your heart that Jungkook hasn’t left. You haven’t exchanged many words after the sex and because of that, you knife yourself with the expectation to find only Yoongi lounging around in the sitting area.
Midwalk, you bind it all into a loose braid. Don’t use a tie to seal it. Merely flip your hair back—with the futile wish it would untangle.
And it does when you find the males smoking on the balcony with the door wide open. Jungkook, fully dressed in the outfit he came in. Yoongi, wearing his pants. You let out a quiet breath of relief, stooping to the ground to pick up your robe and the cheese ball, a dreadful twinge in your lower body alarming you. And then, you notice that someone folded your little sheer outfit neatly on the chair.
“I wasn’t able to touch her after you,” you hear Yoongi say, the wholeness of the starry night plating his low pitch. You still your breathing, the perplexity from his words forcing you to whisk your head in his direction. “All I saw was my shortcomings… and—and I didn’t know how to please her anymore because you showed her new things. I felt less than. Unable to be the right person for her sexually.”
Your heart shrinks so much it pains you. Yoongi never told you these things during the therapy sessions. He mainly spoke about the sexual moments at the cabin, but never about the ones after, never about what truly bothered him on his healing journey. He bottled it up. Your throat fills with bile.
“Has what we did tonight changed that?” Jungkook asks, shoulders tense. “We practically did the same things and she was more than pleased.”
Your heart grows back to its full size at the positive mention of you. You rise to your full form, flinging the cheese ball into its empty bowl before folding your robe. Your ears perk in waiting for his answer.
“I think so.” The bile sinks back down, along with the pain coated with sadness. “I also think we should do this again.”
Your mind doesn’t allow your body to exult, knowing the reason why he said it.
He wants to either finish the hidden healing or… check if it has come to an end.
The tension doesn’t ease in Jungkook’s shoulders. “Only if you work hard and focus on her. I’m not consenting to this if you only touch her with me being present.”
Silence in your heart—a skipped beat. You don’t want to hear any more of that conversation. You put away your robe and grab the dishes, washing them in the sink.
No matter how much dish soap you use, you can’t scrub away the healer’s magic off of your hands. It pelts under your skin, to and fro, over and over as you repeat his words in your mind. Gives strength to your fingers as you hold the unusually heavy plates and bowls, the tiredness a hefty burden on your shoulders, weighing you down.
Such a good man. You’re so grateful to know such an extraordinary being like him. A good friend, the best you could wish for Yoongi. A good lover, too—
“I think it’s way bigger and deeper, this relationship and how I feel about it. I can’t help it—” Jungkook’s voice no longer a far-off murmuring, he halts his words at the sight of you. Calls your name. “I thought you were asleep already.”
You turn off the tap water, ignoring the question in your body about the incomplete sentence he uttered while being under the impression you were beyond hearing distance. Think you’ve learned and come about plenty enough of things tonight. You want to go to bed. With both of them.
You don’t say your reasoning behind why you’re here. Deem it’s pointless. “Let’s go to bed.”
You reach out your hand for him, but it is only the wind that encases your palm. You drop it.
A chaos of shoulds and desires swarms in him. You can see it, vividly. “I should go home.”
You’re having your way, you don’t care. “No. Stay.”
Jungkook calls your name again. Yoongi licks his lips, smiling, fondly. Walks towards you and grabs your hand, leading you towards the bedroom. The puppy stays fixed on his feet, not comprehending that you want him to sleep in Yoongi’s bed and not on the couch.
You raise your hand again for him. “Come, you’re sleeping with us.”
Jungkook has gone commando under his jeans. You eye the sliver of minimal hair on his pelvis and before you can ogle his worm, he cups himself.
Unabashedly, you click your tongue in disappointment, even though the recollection of your private decision to have his boxers as a keepsake, approved by him, suffuses your exhausted body in delight.
You get under the sheets, right in the middle, watching as Yoongi hands him his gray sweatpants to wear, holding your breath when Jungkook turns around and you gain a perfect view of his round, toned ass.
You’re certain that man will be the death of you.
Yoongi crawls into the bed, nuzzling into the crooks of your body that he knows well, cuddling to your arm. You hear him inhale the scent of your shampoo. “You smell so good.”
You stroke his forearm with your fingernails, transfixed by the way the waistband of the forbidden pants hangs low on Jungkook’s hips, by his slow, seductive walk that you don’t particularly think he’s doing on purpose. That’s just what makes him him, which worsens it all.
In similar fashion, he lays down beside you, but he doesn’t turn to his side as your boyfriend has done. No, like you, he rests on his back, hands by his body, touching you without meaning to. His warmth environs you, but you notice that a good half of his body isn’t covered by the sheets. You fix it right away, tucking him in—tucking the fabric right under his chin.
He gives you a strange look that makes you giggle. “You want me to burn?”
Oh, men and their body heat. You’ll never grow tired of it—it’ll forevermore fascinate you.
You shush him. “Sleep.” Pinch his nose, deepening his funny scowl. “Goodnight, sweet dreams.”
Yoongi begins to purr beside you and you know he’s halfway on his journey to dreamland. You lay back down, hip to hip with both males, hands on your tummy, your eyes languidly fluttering closed.
A hand on your thigh. You open them fleetingly, surprised at the contact, before they close on their own.
“I’ve missed his purring,” Jungkook whispers, thumb brushing across your smooth skin. Just once. “Haven’t heard it in a while. It’s better than brown noise.”
You laugh, softly, agreeing with him in your heart. Submit to the call of your own dreamland and you turn to your side, facing Yoongi, propping the back of your hand under your chin.
But then Jungkook folds into your form.
Mirrors your position. Arm around you, hand relaxed on the mattress an inch away from your tummy.
It makes you feel funny. It makes you wild, your body gaining the tiniest tendril of energy. You curse him, mentally, although you don’t mean a single word.
You feel his gentle breath fanning the nape of your neck. Along with it arrives the need for him to touch you. You purse your lips, burying your head deeper into the pillow in effort to shake that off and focus on relaxing your body—
“Hyung?”
He hums in response. You curse him, too.
“She didn’t come when you fucked her.”
Your eyes fly open. The audacity this man has—
Tense, tense nothingness. It thrums uncomfortably under your skin.
“Lemme make it right.”
Radio silence in your heart, its profound waves shaking through your entire body, tearing off its drowsiness.
“Okay, Jungkookie.”
Your gasp is so minimal, yet Jungkook feels it. He presses his palm against your stomach, pulling you closer to him. Yoongi turns to his other side, as if giving you the privacy for what Jungkook wants to do to you.
Reposing halfway on his back, halfway on his side, he maneuvers your form to mirror his position. And for the longest time, you both just lay there while Jungkook brushes his fingers along your clothed body. Back and forth, in circles, in peculiar patterns that soothe you. You thought you’d fall asleep this way, but the touches keep your body awake, promising it things in a silent language that it so evidently wants.
And it isn’t until Yoongi begins to snore that you perceive Jungkook waited until he entered his deep slumber. The breath you let out is loud, absorbed by your boyfriend’s much bigger ones, but it makes Jungkook hold your jaw steady as he draws his lips close to your ear.
“I didn’t like that he used you,” he whispers and his words fill your body with something foreign, something that drives your brows to knit, your muscles to clench, for butterflies to stir awake, although you disagree with him. Yoongi didn’t use you. You don’t really think he did. When you motioned him to take his turn, you expected to come again, but your body was so spent that it wasn’t able to do so, which is completely okay in your opinion. “If I fuck a girl and I come first before she does, I don’t stop until she creams all around me. Even if it hurts.”
You remember him pushing you away when you wanted to keep going after he orgasmed. “You don’t like to be overstimulated, though.”
He snickers again, softly and lowly. “And yet I don’t stop.” Both hands on your tummy, he glides them down, towards your hips, towards your thighs before he drags them back up. Lifts up your camisole this time around, getting a feel of your skin. Rubs circles. “I want to make you come like you deserved to. Can I?”
“I came a lot of times. I don’t know if I can.”
Jungkook caresses your bottom lip with his thumb, angling your jaw towards him. “We can try and see if you can.”
We. He kisses your cheek and you pout in his hand. Brain turned off, too numb by all the orgasms, the attention and the affection you’ve received, you take the other one and slide it beneath your shorts. Feel an onrush of freshness in your lungs when he whimpers at the contact of your lips with the pads of his fingers and you move your hips back against him, gaining another sound of similar nature that willingly tempts your madness to return to you.
He’s hard.
You grind your backside against his thick imprint, loving the feeling of it, loving the soft noises he makes as if he was trying to stifle them, but you were making it awfully difficult for him to do so.
“Don’t do that or I’ll cum in Yoongi’s pants.”
Your laugh is feral. Quiet, gentle. An oxymoron that could only belong to his name. To his art. The idea of him coming in your boyfriend’s pants drenches you and he gasps once he discovers it, teasing your entrance.
“You want me to come like this?” he asks and you hum your agreement, his fingers ascending to your clit, stroking it in slow, slow circles. His breath hardens in tandem with yours and he swears. “But I don’t and you will listen to me.”
He pulls out his hand and you whine, catching his wrist, bringing it back where it belongs. On your clothed, now swollen clit. You grind your hips with more fervor, just to work him up, just because you enjoy it and he fists the material of your shorts, stimulating you with the seam, dominating you through and through.
You merely beam at him, illuminating the room, fisting his cock. “Don’t stretch out my new shorts.”
“Don’t provoke me and we’ll reach an understanding,” he retorts, swirling his tongue around the bone of your jaw before he kisses it. Responding to it, you grind your pelvis back, angling your hips so his cock fits just right in between your cheeks. He tuts in disapproval, shifts a little bit more to his side nonetheless, pulling you flush to his body. “No, other way sweetheart. Grind your pussy against it.” You try it, placing your hand on top of his, unsure and he helps you, guiding your hips with his, grinding upwards, as if he was fucking you. You mewl at the pleasure permeating your veins and with his free hand, he clamps your mouth shut. “Yes, that’s it.” He tightens his hold on your shorts, hoisting it higher. “Feels so good like this, doesn’t it?” You nod, your noises loud, only slightly muffled by his clammy hand. He shushes you, breath hot against your ear. “You gotta be quiet. We don’t wanna wake Yoongi up, do we?” You shake your head ‘no’, squeezing your hold on his hand. Jungkook lets go of your shorts and slides beneath them again, fingers spreading your new arousal on your clit. You squeak again, terribly sensitive and turned on, bound in his arms. “I told you to be quiet. Do you know what happens to girls who don’t listen?”
You’re glad to hear he didn’t add “to me”, for some deranged reason and for that, you don’t peep a sound.
“They get punished,” he answers for you and you can’t stop the moan from escaping your throat, the idea of getting punished by him again making you utterly, utterly delirious.
He strains his fingers around your mouth until it hurts, but that’s not the reason why you draw it away. You do it so you can speak. “Teach me a lesson, please. I need it.”
You wish you could see his reaction, but the darkness keeps it to itself. You can only hear the sharp inhale of breath he takes—and you can feel the twitch of his cock against you that divulges to you that he’s gone mad just the same.
While silence takes place, he drags your shorts down to your thighs, the tight cotton preventing you from spreading your legs. He moves you so you lay on your back and from this position, you sense Yoongi’s body heat and the lift and fall of his chest, though he still remains facing you with his back. Jungkook lifts your camisole until your breasts are exposed. And then, he props the back of your head on his bicep, clamping your mouth back shut. He looks down at you and you can only slightly make out his features. The glint of his lip ring irradiates him. Mercifully.
You want to kiss him so bad.
“How does Yoongi punish you, hm?”
The question shocks you, coaxes out a string of your arousal to drop down your clenched thighs. Whilst he waits for your answer, he grazes his palm down your sternum, your stomach, your mound. Leaves it there.
It’s your body that responds out of its own will, not your brain. You can’t, for the life of you, think. He allows you to speak. “With his words. His cock. And… with pussy spanks.”
Jungkook hums. Puts the covers out, revealing you to himself. “Show me how he spanks you.” Your hand trembles as he lifts it. He brushes his thumb across your knuckles while he places it on your cunt, taking control of that expression of nerves. Wraps the other hand around your throat.
When your fingers collide with your clit, you hiss in sensitivity. Decide you will only show him this way. You can’t take any more. “Like this. Gently, but firmly. So it doesn’t hurt. He doesn’t like to cause me pain.”
He exchanges your hand with his and spanks you. With bigger firmness than Yoongi ever used. You arch your back, not expecting it with your dumb brain. He pinches your right nipple between his knuckle and thumb, making you moan softly, not having enough and enveloping it with his mouth, sucking briefly before he swirls his tongue around the nub. Your wetness rushes out, along with your noises that you’re just so incapable of stopping. You grip his hair on the back of his head and in response he flicks the muscle. Your hips buck, asking for attention.
Jungkook withdraws, stares you dead in the eye. “I’m punishing you for making a sound and yet you do as you please?”
You swear, eyes wide. “I’m sorry.”
He spanks your clit. “Sorry what?”
Remembrance flashes through your mind. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”
“Hm, that’s right.” He rubs your clit rapidly. Spanks it again. Your moans come out in strained breaths. “That was for the curse word. Say you’re sorry.”
But then, you can’t help but mewl at his fatherliness. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”
He pecks you, deeply. For the title, for your good manners or perhaps to silence you—you don’t know. “How sorry?”
His fingers find your clit again, strumming it, lips moving against you in a passionate kiss. Your brain malfunctions. “So sorry,” you whisper onto his mouth, gripping his hair.
He spanks you, softly, for pleasure, then continues. “You won’t say it again?”
“No.”
A sound of approval. “Good girl.” He sinks his middle finger inside you as far as your restrain allows him, fucking you slowly. The pressure of delight begins to build in you. “One more?”
“Yes, please, Daddy.”
Ring finger joins in, instantly. “Such a good girl. I love hearing you say that.” He jackhammers into you a few times before he stills, thumbing your clit. The fullness, the stimulation on your most needy part—it’s enough to make you come and you feel it chasing you again, nearing and nearing. “I want to fuck you like this with my fingers and have that toy on your clit. The one we used the last time. Keep the setting low, so it wouldn’t wake him up.”
A curse word rises on your tongue, but with the last brain cell you have—you swallow it down. You’re tiptoeing before the edge, knot tight in your tummy, pressure so enormous, and you tell him. “I’m gonna come.”
He lifts his thumb. “Hold it.”
You panic, faintly, standing still before the edge, face to face with your orgasm, close, terribly close. “I can’t.”
Jungkook shifts. “You will.” Bends you in half while keeping his fingers inside you, mouth latching onto your soaked cunt.
Takes control of your orgasm as he begins to toy with it, building it little by little with sluggish circles on your clit with the tip of his tongue. Then, he wraps his lips around it, nibbling on it and resumes the movement of his fingers, fucking you steadily.
The pleasure is so new, so different that you feel as though you’re levitating in heavenly places. You grind your hips against him, meeting him, but briefly. When he sucks your clit, he stills your motions and spreads shakes across your entire body. “Come for Daddy, sweetheart.”
He flicks his tongue—and you do. You come so violently for him that you grip his hair with all your might, surprised that he isn’t wincing in pain. And he doesn’t stop.
He keeps going until all that’s left of you is nothing but the cordiality of your high and those shudders, licking you up, devouring all that you’re giving him, wet fingers spread on the back of your thighs.
Then, he sets your legs down, straddles you and kisses you nastily. Makes you taste yourself on his lips, on his tongue and he enjoys the principle of it all. Enjoys giving back to you what you leaked for him. “I could have you come on my tongue all night.” He pecks you, swirls his tongue around yours. “You kept quiet through it all. Good girl. You learn so well.”
You’re speechless, satisfied, sensing something approaching you that you fail to understand. Something bigger than attachment, but smaller than feelings. Connected to his healing gift or perhaps invented from it. Something that’s smack dab in the middle, growing in you, and you submit to it, unafraid of it.
A certain desire fraternizes with it. You push at his shoulder, wanting him on his back. As if he senses what it is, he stays put. Solid as a rock. In both ways.
But you’ll have your own.
You tug the waistband of Yoongi’s sweats down his hips and grasp him in your hand, spreading his thick arousal down his length. Jungkook’s breath shakes, but his words don’t. “When did I tell you you could do that?”
You grab him with both hands, squeezing him. He hisses, muscles bulging along his arms on either side of you. “I’m sorry, Daddy. Can I?”
He coos. “Only because you’re so well-mannered.” Nods at you. “Keep going. Make your Daddy feel good.” Your Daddy. The fire it sparks in you, you put its wholeness into your movement—jerking him off, twisting your wrists, using all of your strength. “Hands off.” He spits on his head, the trail long and delicious to your eyes and you’re quick, you’re desperate, to resume and make him come, ache pressing down on your pussy all over again.
The slickness, his stifled noises, the snug warmth—you understand all of a sudden how he’s able to feel your pleasure because you’re experiencing it. You are pleasured because you’re pleasuring him. But still, you want more. You press him against your clit. “Fuck my hands like this, please.”
He repositions your hands. Slides them lower on his length, so his tip can stimulate your bundle of nerves. And when he begins to thrust, you’re transfixed.
By the roll of his hips, the clenching of his abdominal muscles, the evident delight overwhelming his body. You can’t take your eyes off of him. Especially not when he lets his guttural vocality loose.
You smile. “You should be quiet.”
He laughs down at you, softly. It vibrates in your core. He kisses you, humming into your mouth. “You’re right, but it feels so good like this. Doesn’t it feel good on your pussy?”
You nod, biting his lip, angling your head and devouring his mouth, plagued by his arousal, by his pleasure, by his response to your little slyness. He fucks your hands faster, gliding across your clit, not lasting for a moment longer. He shoots out his hot cum onto your tummy, cock twitching in your hands, his noises muffled by your mouth.
And he remains there. Even as he fingers you so fast that you come in seconds. Even as he takes those drenched digits, collects his male essence and plunges them into your mouth. “‘Atta girl. So good for me.”
He cleans your folds and thighs with his tongue. Dresses you, like a child. Fixes your camisole. Puts the covers back on you and spoons you.
Yoongi remains soundly asleep. You succumb to slumber faster than you came but before you do, it’s Jungkook’s words that lead you to that dreamland. “Goodnight, sweetheart. Sweet dreams.”
In the morning, you wake up first. And the sight you see is so profoundly beautiful that you take a moment to gape at it, folding it into your heart.
Jungkook drools in his sleep. Celestial countenance, tousled hair in all directions, broad chest lifting and falling in absolute tranquility. He twists his features for a split second, as if he was dreaming about something uncomfortable and you’re so affected by it that you look away.
Turn your gaze to your boyfriend instead.
Still snoring, mouth parted. Ebony hair brushed back, exposing his forehead. The corners of his lips tug up and stay and you think angels must be playing with him in his dreams. You kiss his arm, crawling back, painfully, until your feet hit the floor.
You take a long, long shower. Practice your gratitude, recollecting last night’s events and words spoken by Jungkook that weren’t as private as he thought. Hearing them, they were too fresh to be consumed, but now that you think about them—your own smile finds your lips and you agree with him in your heart. You can’t let him walk away after this. Can’t let him return to his normal life that exists without you, not when you’re something along the lines of attached to him. Hell, you can’t return to your own normal life without him. Without his touch, without his celestiality. Without his attentiveness and healing gift.
This has to be a continuous relationship.
Jungkook was the one who called it that way and it feels right. Even as you taste it on your tongue, it’s the most delicious thing you’ve ever swallowed. It fills your body with verve, one that you deem is essential at this point. One that you will need every single day from now on.
You have to talk about this with Yoongi. The idea doesn’t scare you, despite the fact you can’t really picture his reaction. Can’t imagine which way it will gravitate towards—whether to light or to dark. You don’t mind at all, in fact you look forward to it and you wash your body with greater care than you ever handled it with before.
With a face mask on, you take your cosmetic bag and do your makeup in the living room. The sunlight spills in, kissing your ebullient mien, and you imprint its red marks with a touch of blush across your cheeks, its lovely color with glitter on your eyelids and you finish the job with a few brushes of mascara upon your lashes and a singular swipe of a glimmering lip gloss on your lips.
It is only then that Jungkook appears in front of you.
“He still sleeps like a bear.”
You’re so happy to see him that it manifests on your face.
“Don’t try to wake him up or you’ll get eaten.”
Placing your cosmetic bag on his lap, he sits beside you. “I wouldn’t dare.” Examines your face for a good moment. “Why are you putting this on? You don’t need it.”
“I enjoy it,” you say, watching fondly as he takes out each makeup product and scans them. Once he comes across your tiny tubes of glitter of various shades, light flickers in his eyes. Your heart does the same thing. And a somersault right after.
“You wear glitter?”
You nod, a precious, girlish smile stretching your glossy mouth. “I’m wearing it right now.” You close your eyes for him, letting him see the small sparkles, resplendent of the sun. He praises you, the word ‘pretty’ embracing you tightly in all its snug simplicity, forcing your eyes open. A brighter spark shines in his irises. You brim with the yearning to doll up his eyes to match it and, having your way as always, you steal the tubes from him. “Which one do you want?”
He doesn’t even fight you. As a matter of fact, he’s already decided. Doesn’t waste a second to reply. “The silver one.”
Excitedly, you quiver all over. Dab the applicator on the back of your hand and lift your sight to catch him smiling cutely at you like the puppy he is. Your hand itches to ruffle his hair. Grab his cheek and bite into it. Go for his nose next.
Whirling the pad of your finger on the splatter of glitter, you hover it above his lids. “Close your eyes.”
He listens, immediately. You pat the imitation of his glint across that soft skin, but you focus on that beautiful, pouty smile of his. Think you’ll save his lips for last and savor them as you eat them.
You swipe your finger for more and adorn his other eye. Take the rest and speckle it on the highest points of his cheekbones—this time with his attention all on you.
You lean back to observe your artwork and find that something is missing. You know right away what it is.
You dab the applicator on his cupid’s bow and drag it down his collarbones. Take care of that first before you move over to his lips. You blend it there with utmost care and he lets you, zeroining his gaze into yours. Deep, but gentle. Loving.
To finish it, you kiss him. And it’s not because you were driven by your emotions or by that stare of his. You do it because you want to. Kiss him again, so the highlight is perfectly blended.
He’s puzzled when you draw away, but you’re not unnerved by it. You’re firm and stable in your decisions, happy in the outcome, any hints of repercussions or doubts far, far away from you. In another world, in another galaxy. It has long forgotten your name and you’re glad for it.
“We shouldn’t do this.”
There he goes with ‘we’ again. It makes you weak.
“There’s nothing wrong with it,” you say, soothingness coating your voice, penetrating his negative emotion to the point that he relaxes. Before he can say anything, you continue. “I heard what you said last night. To Yoongi. That this relationship is way bigger and deeper.” Surprise and timidity bleeds into the glitter on his face and he’s unable to look you in the eye. You grab his palm, holding it with both of your hands in your lap. “I agree with you. I feel it, too. This wasn’t just a one time thing. I don’t think it was ever meant to be just for one night.”
There’s rawness to your words that make him reciprocate your eye contact. He gnaws at his lips, as if to eat away his nerves. You squeeze his hand harder and are about to continue, but the creak on the hardwood floors stops you.
Yoongi. With his wrinkled face and puffy, but awake eyes. In a pair of boxers and nothing else. You stand up to your feet, dropping Jungkook’s hand, and you go to meet him halfway, but you don’t make it far. The soreness between your legs won’t let you.
He grins at you, wrapping his arms around you. “Can’t walk?” His taunt is loving and scrunch your face at him. “Good morning, honey.”
You kiss his bare chest. “Good morning.”
Yoongi moves over to Jungkook and places a hand on his shoulder. “Sleep well?”
Wet softness in his eyes. “The best sleep of my life.”
“So, I want two boyfriends.”
While Yoongi made coffee for all three of you, you were more than happy to make breakfast. Scrambled eggs on avocado toast—one that Jungkook chokes on upon hearing your words and one that flings out of Yoongi’s mouth because he bursts into a violent laughter.
You laugh along with him—so hard that tears well in your eyes, slapping your palm down repeatedly on the round wooden table. Yoongi mirrors your movement on Jungkook’s back as he fights for his life, red in the face, eyes wide.
“What did you say?” the puppy croaks out, bewildered, letting go of his bread and you feel terribly bad for him, for shocking him so enormously.
The decision came upon you suddenly while you cooked. Easy, smooth. Appeared on your heart that sprang it up to your mind. Gave it pros and cons—good friendship, good sex, good time; Yoongi might get jealous and/or possessive, nothing else. It made sense to you, grazed your attachment ever so sweetly. How else would you keep last night continuous? Even Yoongi went around the matter when he talked Jungkook’s head off, asking him if he’d been with other people after you.
Boyfriend simply means that. No other people—just you and Yoongi.
You weren’t going to keep it to yourself. Even if there was a risk of it going downhill.
It’s not relief that you feel upon hearing Yoongi laugh—it’s a river of liberation, concocted with absolute joy, coursing in your bloodstream. He woke up in a good mood. Woke up happy. And you fold that fact into your heart, hoping it stays for a long time.
“Eat your toast, silly,” you say, smiling, eyes crinkled. Take a bite of your own. Happy that Yoongi is happy, happy that you’re eating your favorite fruit, sitting again at the table with your two favorite people. “You heard me.”
“Oh, fuck,” is all Jungkook says, whisking his eyes to Yoongi, who’s chuckling, bending down to pick up the piece of toast he was in the middle of chewing.
You look at him, too, waiting for his response.
Yoongi brushes his hair back, a lazy smile on his mouth. “I think it’s a fantastic idea.”
You grin so hard that your cheeks hurt. The river in you speeds its stream. “Thank you,” you exclaim, rubbing his arm, quivering with excitement. “I say we mess around and have a good time. We can go on dates.”
Jungkook relaxes a little bit, furrowing his brows as he chews on his toast.
“She wanted two cocks, don’t tell me you didn’t expect this,” Yoongi says to his friend, patting your thigh. “I did.”
Perhaps that’s why he had such a hard time in all of this. He knew it was inevitable—and he worked his way through it until he ended here. Fine with it. Healed.
“When did that happen?” you ask, sliding your hand down to his.
“When I decided the first time I was gonna give it to you. Then, again when I promised you we were gonna make this work,” he says and you pout at him, so grateful, so touched. He squeezes your thigh, looking at Jungkook. “I can see your questions all over your face. Out with them.”
Jungkook has finished his toast, brows still furrowed as he swallows. He leans back in his chair, manspreading, hands intertwining behind his head. Pokes a tongue in his cheek, smirking. “Don’t kill me for this, but,” he starts, showing his teeth. “Do I get to have her to myself? Without you? And vice versa?”
Your heart beats ferociously in your chest. Yoongi pauses for a moment, thinking about it. He let him do it last night, he let him have you to himself, though under different circumstances. You figure what Jungkook meant is whether he can fuck you without asking for permission and the idea exhilarates you.
And the vice versa part. Jungkook is one sly—
“It won’t be instant, but we’ll work hard. Work our way through it until we’re all comfortable and happy,” Yoongi finally says and you kiss his hand.
You’re so overwhelmed with joy that your blood buzzes.
Jungkook nods. “Of course, I understand.”
“Is this something you want?” Yoongi directs the question at you and you nod.
“Yes, once you’re ready.”
Silence settles like fine dust. You finish your toast quietly and as soon as you’re done, you deem Yoongi should know about what happened in the late hours. “We didn’t fuck last night. While you slept. It didn’t even cross my mind and I wouldn’t do it unless I had your… blessing.”
Yoongi cackles at your choice of word. “Good girl,” he praises. “You’ll get your blessing soon. I promise.”
You look at him for a long time and you wonder if there’s anything he wouldn’t do for you.
“So, it’s settled, then,” Jungkook says and places a hand on the table, opens it for you. You grab it and he squeezes you. “Let’s celebrate.”
© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.
BACK to masterlist / READ part one, READ part two, READ part three
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Toxic!Simon, unhinged reader, threatening to commit suicide, guns, mention of killing, implied cheating
Part 1 | Part 2
ik ive used this song before but whatever
“I’ll do it, Simon! I will fucking do it!” you shout while holding his gun to your head, the one he always kept under his pillow just in case. It was supposed to be there for your protection. But how he regrets it now.
You're a complete wreck right now as you stand before him, uncontrollable flows of tears along with your makeup cascading down your face, bloodshot eyes looking back at him as you threaten to pull the trigger.
And he has never been this scared in his life. Not even when streams of bullets come flying in his direction almost every day.
“Put the gun down... please... we can talk about it. I will stay. I promise.” he pleads desperately, struggling to figure out what to do in this situation.
“What does she have that I don’t have? Huh? What do they have? I don’t even fucking know how many there are anymore!” you continue yelling and sobbing while waving the gun around, stopping him dead in his tracks as he steps closer to take the gun from you.
He ducks his head as you point the gun in his direction for a moment, “What? You think I'm gonna kill you? Whatever I do, I'll do it to myself! I can’t go on like this anymore!” you cry out, your loud sobs and hiccups fill the room, fill his senses, overwhelming him as it builds up his aggression and frustration more and more.
“Put. The. Fuckin'. Gun. Down.” he states firmly as he gets closer, slowly reaching for the gun that you now hold by your side as you go on sobbing.
“Why don’t you love me, Simon?” you ask while slightly tilting your head, this time in a much softer tone, almost as if you have given up the fight, now only desperate for an answer.
Your words bring a shocked look to his face, not from the question itself, no, your question is completely valid considering his actions, but because he doesn’t know how to answer.
He finally reaches out and takes the gun from you, your fingers loosening their grip and your sobs slowly dying down a bit, a defeated look replacing it, “Why do you do this to me? All of it? Why the fuck did you make me fall in love with you?”
He holds his head down, not daring to meet your gaze and look into your expecting eyes as you still await an answer.
Is it from shame? Or that he doesn’t want to confront the consequences of his actions? You don’t know which one, but you guess the latter is probably true.
“You d-don't... can you just hold me please?” you ask in utter desperation as you shut your eyes in shame of admitting defeat.
In no time, you feel a pair of strong arms wrap you in a warm embrace.
And after all that he’s done to you, you still feel safe in his arms, even somehow... loved? Or something resembling that.
And you remember why you always keep crawling back to him as he tightens his arms around you.
And as much as you don't like to admit to yourself, you'd feel content if he would just pretend to love you.
yes im going through some stuff as you can tell :'(
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« remind me why I’m here again please? » your bestfriend renjun says as he takes his shoes off to enter your place
you told him to come extra early because as always you were nervous as shit and needed someone to vent to before meeting up with mark near the park
« renjun please stop taking the piss out of me before I get where you are and get violent » you say as you’re heading to the kitchen going to grab something to drink
« I am literally not making fun of you, also I haven’t completely made my mind up on whether I should ditch you or not so I’d watch it if I were you » your bestfriend says sitting on your couch
you watched amused from the kitchen seeing how comfortable he is around your place, it made you happy to see such an important friend to you ease so well into your living space
« you’re here because i gave mark flowers and never want to be alone with him ever again » you say handing him the glass of water
« you do realize that if you actually want something to happen with mark, you’re going to have to hang out alone with him even if you’re nervous about it » you bestfriend says sighing
« i don’t even know if I want something to happen with mark it’s all so… quick and scary you know? and also I have hung out with him alone before like right after my finals for example?? » you say throwing yourself on your couch to really emphasize the dramatic effect of the whole thing
« true, but anyway you’ve had a crush on mark- or sorry hallway crush on mark for like two years? and now that you guys are finally getting to know each other that’s when you wanna back off? » your friend says not really understanding you
« like you said, I’ve had a hallway crush on mark for a long time, it was fun pretending that he definitely looked at me and that he’s in love with me just because he glanced at my direction for a micro second. It would make me laugh so hard having mark in my vicinity and going to tell you guys about it saying how he practically proposed to me. But now that I actually got to know him, he’s nice and we’re friends and I get along with him. I don’t want to have an actual crush on mark where i seriously start to overanalyze whatever the man does to comfort me instead of the funny delusions i used to have. I don’t want to have an actual serious crush on mark because I don’t want to lose him as a friend. I thought I was doing a good job but that fuckass flower bouquet oh my god.. my hands were so sweaty and I was so nervous, I didn’t want him to think that I was weird and I was so scared and I feel like that’s not a reaction that I want to have when being with mark, I honestly don’t know where my feelings stand today and it’s not something I wanna find out. that’s why I need you here for support today » you rant to your friend not even bothering to look at him in case you start to actually get emotional or something
« can’t believe I’m only here to be your emotional support animal or whatever » renjun says getting up from the couch (probably to refill his glass)
« noooooooo don’t say that, you’re making me sound like an asshole » you say voice muffled as you’re hugging your friend from the back (or more like hanging off of him while he very painfully drags you to the kitchen)
« you are an asshole » he replies to which you only nod, it was fair after all.
« but whatever I’m here so unless I start to feel like a third wheel I’ll be by your side the whole time so you don’t have to worry, now go get dressed now cause otherwise we’ll be running late » renjun finishes
as you head into your room you softly smile finding comfort in the fact that no matter how badly this whole mark situation ends, you’ll still have your friends to back you up
you were standing next to renjun who was sitting on a bench complaining about the park that was- and i quote- a longer walk then what you told him. as you were about to speak to get him to shut up you hear both your names being called
« hi, I’m sorry I hope you guys didn’t wait for long » mark says
holy shit the man looked good. suspiciously so.
« no we just got here because the walk was THIRTY MINUTES and not fifteen like she told- » before your best friend could finish his sentence you put your hand over his mouth, you had ENOUGH
« renjun, i love you, really you know I do now PLEASE ENOUGH » you say as renjun puts his hands up innocently and mark laughs
« do you guys know what you wanna do? » mark asks to which you both shrug
you looked at your surroundings spotting a cool cafe that seemed cozy enough for you guys to stay in so you pointed at it and in a mutual agreement they both nodded
« so how long have you guys been friends? » mark asks you chuckle quietly seeing how hard he was trying to make this less awkward (it also reminded you of when he did that the first time you sat next to donghyuck)
« i don’t even know man, i only remember seeing his drawings and i was gagged, i thought he was the coolest person i had ever seen in my life… little did i know tho » you say earning an elbow to your side from renjun
« omg wait renjun i didn’t tell you… mark congratulated us for being in a relationship the other day » you say as mark immediately gets red and renjun looks at you in confusion trying to decipher if you want mark to believe that you’re dating him so he should play along or if he should tell the truth
« i’m sorry, it’s just the tweets, i believed you guys were dating.. man why would you tell him im so embarrassed now » mark says and before you could reply your friend bursts out laughing
« cmon now.. the thought of me dating you surely isn’t that fucking funny » you say cause why the fuck was he laughing that hard
« yes it is oh my god… yea no not in a relationship not now not ever » he replies as you just frown
« you know what? ningning would never treat me like that, i’m going to ditch all of you for other people i can’t keep being disrespected like that » you say, mark raises his hands up
« what did i do?? » he defends himself « you’re laughing!! » you reply to which he only nods
« so you take piano lessons? i’ve heard you play before and have a hard time imagining what you could possibly learn more » you say trying to make conversation
« no haha, i give piano lessons to a child, i do it here and there to make a bit of money » mark replies
« damn, maybe i should do something with my life to get a bit of money too, i’ll like babysit or something » you say more to yourself than anyone
« babysit?? i don’t think anyone in their right mind should trust you with their kid » renjun says
« i have to start somewhere though i mean look you sell your art, make gives piano lessons the fuck am i supposed to do?? » you reply sipping on your drink
« i’ve just got this crazy idea.. what if you like gave bass lessons? » mark says pretending to be enlightened because… duh? why would you consider babysitting when you can play the bass?
you just shrug at him because you weren’t in the mood for reassurance which you know would come if you told the two men you’re eating with that you couldn’t give bass lessons cause you’re not talented enough
as you were sipping on the (very overpriced but very good) drink you ordered you stopped for a second to watch your bestfriend and mark just being completely in love with each other. you giggled quietly remembering the whole speech renjun gave you about putting yourself out there to catch mark’s attention when as it turns out he’s the one stealing your man from you
« why am i third wheeling right now » you say with a smile on your face, this whole situation was just too funny
« yea, that’s crazy, i didn’t know we would get along so well. renjun, i was so intimidated when she told me you were coming » mark says
« i’m glad i’m here though, you really are nice i understand why jaemin and y/n like you so much » renjun says somehow emphasizing the fact that you ‘like him so much’
« cmon now i don’t like him THAT much let’s take it down a notch » you say defending yourself. mark was going to eventually figure out you liked him but it was definitely NOT today
« you’re so obsessed with me oh my god » mark says laughing
as you guys were heading out of the café (after multiple hours of you third wheeling) renjun turned to both of you guys. you expected the worst seeing his quick apologetic glance he threw at you
« guys i’m so sorry i’m gonna have to go but please by all means continue your hangout i wouldn’t want it stopping just because i leave i mean after all i wasn’t even supposed to be here in the first place » he said. he looked so apologetic you almost couldn’t get mad at him.
almost. because you knew him too well and knew for a fact that he did not have anything planned at all and was just ditching you guys to make you hang out with mark alone. how did you know? first of all the fact he so clearly insisted on the hang out not being over just because he left but also because of the small smile (more like smirk) he was so desperately trying to fight. asshole.
as he hugs you before leaving he whispers in your ear « you’ll do fine i’m sure of it, and if you don’t then i owe you for life or something » then he left. and suddenly you wanted to kill yourself
« you can leave if you want, i won’t tell renjun i promise » mark says looking..apologetic?
« huh? » you answer because why was he looking at you like that
« i know you didn’t wanna hang out alone with me and i don’t want to make you uncomfortable so you can leave » mark says not even looking at you anymore suddenly finding the ground much more interesting
« it’s crazy how big of an asshole i must be oh my god. i won’t leave though, not unless you want me to. i’ll be honest i didn’t want to hang out with you alone because i thought you would find me weird since i gave you a bouquet and i got nervous » yeaaa…. that’s definitely why yup!
mark bursts out laughing « that’s why?? dude i really loved the bouquet you shouldn’t feel nervous. and we’ve hung out alone before so bouquet or not you shouldn’t feel nervous with me we’re friends » he says putting his arm around your shoulder (you would’ve totally freaked out if the man hadn’t called you his friend right before doing that)
« i’m glad i got to meet renjun though, you guys seem close » he says removing his arm from your shoulder ( ☹️ )
« yea renjun is an amazing friend honestly i wouldn’t trade him for the world, he constantly reassures me and takes care of me i really wonder what good deeds i’ve done to deserve the man » you say
« sounds like you might have a little crush » mark teases
« nah, i love renjun to the core but it’s really not like that, he’s my twin flame my best friend, i’m just immensely grateful for everything he’s done for me » you finish your rant, mark only nods somehow understanding what you’re telling him
« oh there’s another park not far away let’s go » mark says
« im down » you answer
once arriving to the park, mark automatically goes to the playground, an action that made you chuckle a bit
« dude check out there monkey bars, i used to be so good when i was younger » mark says climbing on them
« really? i hated those so much i only went on the swings and slides » you answer while mark calls you boring
after three hours of talking (and playing) it was now getting late so you both decided to go home, with mark walking you there of course.
you were now in front of your apartment
« thank you for agreeing to go out with me today. i’m glad we’ve moved past the awkward stage of our friendship. thank you for the flowers again, you never fail to make me feel special, i hope one day i can make you feel that too » mark says
« duuuude you are special i’m not even doing anything. also i’m glad we’re friends too. and you need to stop thanking me for the flowers it was nothing » you answer
« maybe it wasn’t much to you but it means so much more than you could ever imagine to me. anyway i won’t bother you any longer, goodbye y/n » mark says
« bye mark » you say waving at him before closing the door.
you make him feel special.
35. third wheel
previous chapter masterlist
notes: this chapter had me stressed omg (none of this is proofread so if you see any mistakes.. no you don't tf) (i say this as if any of my chapters are proofread lol) (to the 💎 anon i saw your ask n yes you can be 💎 anon (i haven't answered bc i'll answer when i publish your req) ) ALSO to every other person that requested smt i wll work on it just not now as my finals are coming up lol
also idk if anyone noticed (you probably did not) but not only a new mark nickname unlocked but also a new contact name?? ohhh these two are ADVANCING (i also had a full mental breakdown (almost cried) bc my taglist wasn't working and wasn't tagging anybody?? so ply tell me if it didn't work for youuu)
taglist (open): @imsiriuslyreal @iscocohere @simpforarmihn @replayenthusiast @lovm4rk @youreintheclubb @polarisjisung @sour-chaos @jising-jisang-jisung @aerivrs @multifandomania @tiddygang2020 @roseangelxfuma @skepvids @morkiee @yangasm @artstaeh @pussyslayerhd @bacons-thighs @bugcattie @leefullsun @jkslvsnella @alethea-moon @marvelahsobx @haechansbbg @katsukis1wife @winuvs @n0hyuck @whats-my-question @jaehyunastico @hibernatinghamster @user7520 @m1dn1ghtv1olet @starwonb1n @lostinneocity @miniature-tragedy @llearlert @haezyhyuck @inosfavgf @bluesinfinities @calumsfringe @cigarettesafterjae @defzcl @delfdiary @minkyuncutie
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wake up, sunshine
knight!luke masterlist
based on this ask
pairing: knight!luke castellan x princess!reader
summary: you and luke repair some things at your kingdom's annual flower festival.
a/n: have some fluff after i destroyed their relationship in the last fic! also this is based off of the scene from rapunzel because how could it not be <3 title from the all time low song bc it is soooo them "somebody loves you for yourself" <3 they're everything
wc: 2.5k
warning(s): once again luke is kinda angsty but this is much fluffier than usual! princess is nice again, they have a couple sweet moments <3
we’ve been focusing on a lot of rough times between luke and the princess but things aren’t all bad for them!! even though she’s trying to ignore him and being forced to court a prince she isn’t interested in at all and war is imminent, war has not struck YET
which means that things are still pretty great lol. and things are going to get a little better
Aurelda’s flower festival always happens at the peak of spring, when all of the flowers (especially the ones only found in your kingdom) bloom, and it is full of revelry and merriment
You’ve gone every year since you were old enough to walk, and though things have been a bit bleak for you, you’re actually excited about it! that boring prince has gone back home so you don’t have to spend the entire festival entertaining him.
For the first time in a while, you actually get to focus on yourself and having fun. and you plan to do just that
Of course, things are still weird between you and Luke — you know it’s your own fault, and you know that’s how it has to be, but you still hate it — but you can’t stop thinking about his words from that night as your lady’s maid helps you get ready for the festival.
You may not care about what you want, but I do. And my loyalty is to you, princess. Not to your parents. And certainly no prince.
Your heart twists painfully but you hide any emotion. The last thing you need is your maids spreading rumors. They already gossip about how close you and Luke are. You don’t need any star-crossed lovers narratives going on when your friendship is being put through the wringer of your own accord.
You’re wearing a more casual outfit than usual—though your parents usually want you adorned in gowns and over the top dresses, you insisted on a simpler dress that cut off around your ankles for the ease of movement. It has plenty of embroidered flowers, of course.
You planned to participate in every festival activity, no matter what your parents said. You deserved to have some fun after being so serious for the past month.
You’re stuck in meetings the entire day before the festival, so you’re brimming with unspent energy the second you step out of the palace. Your leg bounces up and down the entire carriage ride, and you talk at (not to) your parents the whole time.
You’re excited, okay? And you deserve to be. things have been rough lately, and with the prince’s presence, woefully boring. You can’t wait to get back in the middle of your kingdom and see your people. You love your subjects, and you always love when you get to meet and talk to them in person.
Luke, on the other hand, is slightly stressed.
As this is his inaugural year as your knight, it is a season of firsts for him, and every first comes with unhealthy amounts of stress.
His first ball with you, his first time in another kingdom with you, his first festival with you, his first time being at odds with you.
Luke honestly doesn’t know how you feel about him right now. You’ve put an impressive amount of distance between you and him, and you rarely talk to him outside of necessity, but he sees your lingering glances in his direction. He notices when you don’t rebuke his attempts at friendly conversation.
Luke meant every word that he said. He knows you, and he knows you don’t want this—you at least don’t want to leave him in the dark like this. So he isn’t going to let you go that easily.
Your avoidance of him may be a good thing, though, because at least it means you don’t see his reaction when you leave your room wearing your festival dress.
Luke has always thought of you as the most beautiful girl he knows, and that hasn’t changed with time.
You always stun in your ballgowns and any Aureldan finery, but there’s just something about you wearing such a simplistic dress, heightened by embroidered flowers, that makes him weak in the knees.
Maybe it’s because Luke has imagined a life away from all of this so many times. You’re not a princess, and he’s not a knight, but you’re devoted to each other the same—you just don’t have any royal strings attached.
Apart from being a knight, Luke has never really cared where his future took him, as long as it was with you. He knows he would give up all of this and more if it meant he could share a simple life with you.
Thankfully, he’s composed himself by the time you look at him, though he can’t push away all the lingering thoughts.
“Are you attending the festival today, Sir Castellan?” you ask.
He hates it when you call him that, but he nods. “Of course. You’re going out into the kingdom—you need security.”
“It is a festival,” you drawl. “Nothing will happen.”
“It is still necessary,” he says. “You can think of me as your knightly escort.”
That actually gets a bit of a laugh out of you, and he suppresses a smile. “My escort. How improper of you.”
“Today is meant to be a day of festivities,” Luke says. “Impropriety may be allowed just this once.”
Your smile remains as you start to walk together, and Luke knows he could live off of its warmth alone.
And when you finally reach your destination, your smile gets even bigger.
It’s been far too long since you’ve gotten to be in the midst of your kingdom, surrounded by all your people. This is the part of your position that you love—you just wish your parents trusted you with it more.
Your parents are busy with their image—they’re speaking later today, you’re sure, and right now they’re discussing things with some kind of village leader—which gives you the perfect opportunity to slip away.
Luke is right behind you, of course, but it’s always been hard to keep up with you. You’ve grown very skilled at weaving your way through crowds, but thankfully Luke has grown very skilled at keeping an eye on you.
By the time he catches up to you, though, it’s too late.
“Princess—” Luke calls in protest, but you’re already off to greet a group of children calling your name.
You know exactly how to stress him out, running off like that without him immediately behind you, but he can’t find any anger inside of him.
Luke hasn’t forgotten your words. He doesn’t know how he could.
But in this moment, it’s so easy to see why he can’t just do his duty and let you go.
The way you crouch down to be on their level, how you listen so intently to everything they say, your dazzling smile.
Yes, one could say it’s your duty to be kind to your people, but for many royals, that’s not true. You’ve always cared about the people of Aurelda, ever since you were young—that may have been one of the few things that hasn’t changed as you’ve grown. Luke has always admired that about you.
In this moment, you’re not the crown princess. You’re just you. And it’s hard for anyone not to love you.
…It’s hard for him not to love you.
yeah.
this is the moment that luke realizes he loves you. like loves you loves you.
And it doesn’t come as much of a shock to him. Luke has always loved you, one way or another. He’s just now understanding the kind of love he holds for you now.
wants to spend the rest of his life with you, would throw himself onto a sword for you, would do absolutely anything for you type loves you.
If anything, it brings some form of relief.
He loves you. You don’t love him, and you’re going to marry a prince someday. Maybe within the year.
It’s as simple as that.
except it isn’t, obviously
because you love him too!! you just don’t know it yet!! and you don’t really want to marry the prince your parents are pushing at you, you just don’t see any other way.
But it’s not like Luke knows that. he may be the youngest person to ever become part of the kingsguard but he is ~ insecure ~ and he cannot imagine anyone liking him like that, especially you!!!
Luke comes back into himself when you bound back over to him, and he notices the flower crown balancing precariously on your head.
You have the biggest grin on your face, and though the gowns you wear at balls and fancier events are great, you’re nothing less than stunning in your simple dress. You’re slightly out of breath and your skin is luminescent with the glow of exertion. He can’t help but smile.
Have you always been this beautiful? He’s pretty sure you have, but he doesn’t know how he didn’t realize it sooner.
Luke has loved you for a while, he thinks. Maybe he always has—maybe that’s what the warm feeling he gets in his chest when he looks at you is. Maybe that’s what made his heart clench every time a prince danced with you at that ball.
Maybe his love for you has always been what’s pushed him forward.
“Luke,” you said, and once again, you snapped him out of his thoughts. You were absolutely beaming at him, and you wore a flower crown on your head. “Are you there?”
Luke, he realized. Not Sir Castellan, for what felt like the first time in weeks.
“I’m always here,” he said. “I’ve got superior training, princess.”
“Of course,” you said with mock austerity, nodding sagely. “I could never forget.”
You held up another flower crown, one similar to yours, and your smile grew. “The kids made another one, too. They said it was for my grumpy looking knight.”
Luke scoffed, but there was no edge to it. “I’m not grumpy. Merely cautious.”
“Oh, yes,” you said dryly. “I’m sure those kids had devious plans, Luke.”
That got the slightest of smiles out of him, and it spurned warmth in your chest. “It’s my—”
“It’s your job to watch me,” you finished. “I know. Just teasing you.”
“And I welcome it,” he said. “It’s nice to see you like this, princess.”
“Talking to my people and actually making a difference?” you guessed.
“Happy,” he corrected.
“Yes, well…” you trailed off, glancing away for a moment as you shrugged. “I’ve been busy.”
“And for once, you don’t look like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders.” Luke’s eyes drifted to the flower crown sitting on your head, and his smile grew. “It suits you.”
“Carelessness or flower crowns?” you asked wryly.
“Flower crowns.” Luke crossed his arms. “You’re far from careless, princess.”
You rolled your eyes
“You’ve got to stop talking down on yourself like that,” he said. “Like nothing you say or do matters. Because it does. It may not feel like it, but you’re doing valuable work.”
“Oh, yes,” you said breezily. “I’m sure sitting in meetings that don’t matter and looking pretty as I stand in the background during my father’s speeches is valuable work.”
“That’s not what I mean.” Luke gestured at the crowd of people around, specifically pointing at the group of kids that you’d entertained. “You fight for them every day, even if you don’t realize it. You care about these people, princess, which is already more than half of the people in that castle do for them. Why else would they adore you?”
You bit your lip and glanced away. It was hard to take Luke’s words to heart when you truly felt like you were doing nothing—when it felt like the only thing you could possibly be good for was a marriage.
But you did argue with your parents near every chance you got on matters of support and aid for your people. It was the least you could do, especially when you knew you would never really have to deal with consequences.
(There was a reason most of your father’s advisors had to suppress groans every time you would sit in on a meeting. You took pride in your ability to annoy.)
“Let’s call a truce, okay?”
You frowned. Now it was Luke bringing you out of your thoughts. “A truce?”
“I don’t want you to keep avoiding me, and I don’t think you’re really enjoying it either.” Luke met your gaze. “We’ve been friends for as long as I can remember, princess. Don’t let boring princes come between that.”
You glanced away. “Luke…”
“I know,” he said with a sigh. “I know your duty, and I know mine. But seeing you today, so carefree and happy—it’s worth more than a million gold pieces to me.”
You’d been dancing around this topic since the night you pushed him away. It just hurt too much to talk about, and you felt like you didn’t have a right to be hurt—not when you were the one that did it.
You loved Luke—he’d been your best friend for as long as you could remember. But you would be lying if you said you didn’t hate the time you’ve been spending apart.
“We’re both getting older, I know. And we both have responsibilities we’re going to take on. God, someday, you’re going to be queen.” Luke huffed a laugh, though his eyes never wavered from you. “But that doesn’t mean that we can’t get through it together. Just like we’ve gotten through everything else together.”
Luke held out his hand. “So? Truce?”
You stared at his hand for a moment, unable to meet his eyes. You knew exactly what you wanted to say but you felt like you couldn’t.
Because dammit, your days felt so dull. You always wanted to talk about your day and how boring your lessons were or the bullshit your father’s advisors have been discussing in meetings, and Luke was always the person you wanted to talk to about it all. He always has been.
And you pushed him away.
Before you could doubt yourself, you ignored his hand entirely and pulled him into a tight hug. Luke wrapped his arms around you immediately, holding you close.
“I’m sorry for avoiding you,” you whispered. God, how you’d missed his embrace—you never felt safer than when you were in his arms. “And I’m sorry for being so stupid.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for, princess,” he murmured. “And you’re certainly not stupid. Don’t even think that way.”
You let out a breathy laugh as you pulled away, smiling softly at Luke. “I’m stupid to ever think I could really stay away from you.”
and for the rest of the festival, you and luke are practically inseparable<3 not just because he’s your guard but because you’re best friends.
You’re not going to let anything change that going forward. any prince that wants to marry you is just going to have to deal with that.
(you even get him to wear that flower crown.)
(and though he tries to hide it, he kind of loves it.)
(mostly because he loves you<3)
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there’s an outdoor shower at the chateau—a tiny thing, really, just three planks of wood and the wall of john b’s home where the showerhead is attached. the water pressure depends on the day, depends on if anyone is using the bathroom inside the house or if jj accidentally left the faucet in the kitchen running.
there’s a rusty hook where clothes can be hung if the other shower was occupied, and the towel is always thrown just over the door opposite the water so it doesn’t get too wet.
you are well accustomed to this shower. you know exactly how to hang your towel to avoid the waterfall, where to avoid stepping because the rocks get slippery. sometimes the door opens up by itself, the result of old hinges and worn out screws, but you don’t pay it much mind, because after all, it’s nothing the boys haven’t seen before.
you’d consider yourself still decent, even showering like this. your bikini was filled with grains of sand, the result of being pushed around at the beach by jj and pope for the last hour. there’s a huge sandy hand print on your shoulder from where john b had helped you up, and you let the water wash it away with a smile.
you’re sandy everywhere, but that’ll have to wait until you’re back home. you wash your hair with the cheap shampoo sitting on the ground, the three-in-one you and kiara beg the boys to dispose of.
but at the very least you feel clean, rinsing the suds from your scalp and watching them run down your body and then onto the ground, draining into the grass. you’ve been spending too much time with kie—your first thought is that you hope this stuff doesn’t leach chemicals into the soil.
lost in the warmth since you’re the first to shower and the boys haven’t used up all the hot water yet, you close your eyes and forget the door’s opened by itself. you think it doesn’t matter since everyone’s at pope’s already. you were the only one who insisted on showering before joining them, promising you’ll bike over after ten minutes, though pope reassures the others it’ll be at least twenty-five.
there’s a voice coming from the backyard, rafe thinks, stalking further and further into the shoddy little house. the land wasn’t terrible, right on the lake, but the place was anything but well kept, a mess of missing shingles and splintered wood. he stops thinking about the house as soon as the voice becomes clearer, the further he steps into the back. he was here to convey a message to the pogues that call this place home, but no one that he wanted to find was around.
stepping in mud and grass, he walks to the backyard, a pretty voice filling the humid air. you’re singing something he doesn’t know, something that sounds vaguely familiar. maybe something ward used to play on the record player in the study, back when rafe used to spend time with him.
you, whoever you are, sound nice, even muffled by the sound of the running water. when rafe gets closer, he sees there’s no door blocking his view to a pretty girl washing her hair and singing softly. you’re in nothing but a yellow bikini, showing him all too much but at the same time not entirely enough.
he’s not sure how long he stood there. it must have been some time, because when you twist the shower knob and stop the water, turning to grab your towel, you see rafe and curse loudly, shoulders raising in fear by themselves.
you stand like that for a moment before realizing rafe is staring, probably because you’re in a tiny, wet bikini. you yank the towel and cover yourself.
“can i help you?” you demand, the sweet voice all gone. even if you didn’t recognize rafe, the clothes he wore and his expensive shoes covered in the dirt of the chateau’s grounds were a dead giveaway.
“yeah. m’lookin’ for the idiots that live here. seen them around?”
“no. goodbye.” he laughs at that. eyes raking over your body again. you’re covered now but still feel exposed, like he can see through your towel.
“funny, kid. when you see ‘em give them a message from me, will ya?”
“leave a voicemail like a normal person. i’m not your messen-”
“yeah, yeah. tell your boys we know what they did.” you stare back at him, confused by what he means but angry at the intrusion and the way he talks to you, the way he looks at you.
“sure. whatever that means. are you all done being a stalker now?” he laughs again.
“we’ll see. bye kid.”
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