#GOD I cannot stand touching them or being close to them

[murdrdocs]

a slow life with lucius; fluffy smut; mating press; lowk breeding kink MDNI 18+

thinking about living a life with lucius, or hanno as you know him.

spending your days living a mundane life. tending to the farm, living amongst chickens and goats, making a simple living for yourselves while keeping food on the table. there's not much excitement here, but this beats what else the two of you could be doing. when you see the marred skin of his and remember the feeling of aches that will likely never truly subside, you know what else you could be doing.

you pray to your god that when that day comes—because you both know the day will come, rome is ambitious and she will not be stopped before reaching your home—may the victory be swift or may the death be merciful.

but you don't have to think of these things when you're scolding hanno for being too rough with the crops. he'll tell you it is impossible to be too rough with crops, their deaths rarely come at the hand of the farmer and are usually caused by neglect. and while he is right in his own regard, you'll still send him a pointed look that makes him smile.

there is much time in your day for basking in the glory of the other. under the roof of your home, behind closed doors to keep your neighbors away, you stand in the center of the room, his arms over your shoulders and your arms around his waist. you've been together for some time now, you've done this with each other often, but it truly never gets old. you never get tired of hanno taking his time with you, cherishing every single patch of your skin as they all come together to make the person he loves most.

he doesn't tell you much about his past, but he tells you that you're all he has. it's the two of you, and hopefully eventually a few little others who can live in a humane world, god willing. but for now, it's just the two of you.

yet, the things hanno does to you makes it seem like he wants to increase the population of your home sooner rather than later. the way he bends you body with the weight of his own, pushing your thighs to your chest and hooking your calves over the corded muscle of his shoulders. the way he stares deep into your eyes as he gives you even deeper strokes, pushing his cock further into you time and time again until you're so sure you're going to have to start breathing for him, even when he's taking your breath away from you with each draw back.

"you're okay, yeah?" he always asks you, although in different variations. your favorite will always be the confident way he asks you, when the corner of his lip pulls up and he says, "you like this? do you enjoy what i do to you?". it's simply the way he says it, deep timber of his voice twisting the tone of the syllables until it sounds like he already knows the answer.

you cannot see how he wouldn't—with your cunt leaking around him and your moans filling up the room.

still, you always make an effort to answer him, no matter the strength of the spell he has put you under that time.

he's always so pretty above you, whether it be when the sun slips through the window and illuminates a blue iris, painting the replica color of a sea you know so well, or when the white light of the moon slips through and highlights the evidence that the sun has made on his skin.

big hands touching you everywhere, lips doing the same, but sometimes, you'll only let him get so far. at times when his hands slip down your body, heading towards a spot he has not left alone after the initial discovery, you'll have to swat them away. he's grown to expect it now, rolling his eyes half heartedly and fighting off a grin as he raises his eyebrows in an expression of insincere frustration.

"covered in dirt," you'll explain, knowing what will come next.

the way he bends down, tip of his nose brushing against yours as he tells you, "as is the rest of me ... and yet."

and he's always right. there seems to be a certain amount of the earth that both you and hanno will forever carry with you. a mark of the life you're so privileged to currently live, therefore more of a beautiful reminder than a nuisance.

so, as you let his fingers slip down to the most delicate parts of you, happily settling into the feeling of multiplied pleasure, you grin at him and echo his words.

"and yet."

[sad-lime]

while I’m at it, shelf/bracket mushrooms are so fucking nasty to me. It’s gross to me like holes are to a trypophobic. Have you ever grabbed a piece of wood and felt the squelch of wet bracket mushrooms on your skin? NO WORSE SENSATION

I HATE YOU

[togament]

𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬. sakura, ume, kaji, suo, kiryu, togame.

"ever caught yourself fantasizing how they'd be as your lover? ever wanted to smooch them so badly you just wanna-- look no further, sweetie."

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: general FLUFF NATION BABIIIEEEE, a bit of language but only if you squint a little, I made it as gender neutral as possible but pls lmk if I made some mistakes!, our men are lovesick and absolutely down bad BAD, quick mention of bumping uglies, kaji the crowdkiller, brainworm infestation things, bibi went to yap town with togame's.

𝐬𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐫𝐚.

- big on acts of service BUT IS HORRIBLE AT HIDING HOW MUCH HE LIKES DOING STUFF FOR YOU. hear me out. he’d be the one opening doors for you, covering your head with his jacket when it’s raining outside (he’s getting soaked and you nag him about getting sick)…. all that. He’s blushing profusely. When you smile up at him, he immediately smiles back but then he claps a hand over his mouth to hide it. Give him time ok he’ll come around.

- he loves you. of course that’s a given because you’re his lover BUT BUT. he love LOVES you. like a lot. so much that it’s kind of painful, you know what I mean? Like he wants to express it so friggin bad, but he doesn’t know how to. His words escape him, he panics when he makes a move. He’s spent many a night just staring down at you with the most lovestruck eyes while you’re fast asleep. Tears falling from his eyes because he’s so happy you chose HIM of all people. He never thought he’d be worthy of being loved, of being trusted, of being CONSIDERED. You gave all of that to him and more. GOD he loves you.

- is super conflicted about PDA lol sometimes he wants to hold your hand in public, kiss you all over, hug you, but god damn it he’s blushing from head to toe whenever he’s around you. He’s got the cuteness aggression fever but he can’t let it ouuuttttt 🗣️🗣️🗣️

𝐮𝐦𝐞.

- EVERYTHING IS HIS LOVE LANGUAGE. Like, if you’re not into physical touch, he’d do something else for you. If you’re not the acts of service type and you wanna do stuff yourself, that’s cool too!!! He can manage!!!! Although he’d want to help you out so bad but…. He’s cheering on you from the sidelines. On that note, he’s your biggest (and loudest) cheerleader! You’d have an achievement and no matter how small or big it is, his friends and neighbors and the random strangers he passes by know about it and how amazing you are. BECAUSE YOU ARE.

- loves it when you help him out in the garden hehehe loves it extra if you know how to take care of the veggies and fruits hehehehe like, you’d be tending to the potted plants and he’s checking for aphids on the other side of the garden. You’re actively pruning the basil the right way so it’d grow bushier, you’re hand pollinating the pumpkins, you even suggested on doing the three sisters method so you’d yield more harvest in the coming months. He may or may not have begged you to marry him once or fifty times every time he’s caught you doing that. (Ofc you’ve said yes once or fifty times lol)

- WORST CUTENESS AGGRESSION FEVER SUFFERER. You cannot convince me otherwise. You’d be doing the most mundane things, walking down the road with him, lounging on the couch with your belly out and body contorted in the most unattractive position, just STANDING THERE….. he’s immediately on you, peppering kisses everywhere his lips can reach, hugging you so close, rubbing his face all over youdbjfjdndnnd CUTENESS AGGRESSION IS UMEMIYA AND UMEMIYA IS CUTENESS AGGRESSION. If he could he’d bite you. He has btw. On multiple occasions. The tiniest, softest chomp though.

- never fails to tell you how much he loves you. On the daily, on the fly, every time he meets your eyes. “I love you” so easily slips from his lips, he expresses it so easily but it never loses its meaning with him. He means it every time he utters those three words. You can feel it too. Just… don’t ask him to elaborate because he’d drop anything he’s doing just to explain to you as to how and why and what and where and—uh oh is he crying?????

𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐔𝐓.

𝐤𝐚𝐣𝐢.

- WOULD MAKE PLAYLISTS FOR YOU. Hear me out again. He’s horrible with words ok? Like he’s thorny. He’d say the meanest things accidentally sometimes without him realizing that. So, he makes playlists for you. He’s made one for himself when he first realized he had a crush on you, btw. Don’t tell him I told you. Notice how he’s had his headphones on his head whenever you first started talking to him? Yeah he was listening to it when he saw you passing by. Best music taste btw. Listens to all genres too like he doesn’t discriminate. Get him started on some hardcore bands though, he’s yapping. Eyebrows furrowed. (He likes rowdy places but doesn’t get rowdy? Canonically too? Yeah the man’s outside the pit pushing the crowdkillers away from you. CATCH HIM IN THE PIT THOUGH OH MY GOD THAT’S A CROWDKILLER RIGHT THERE.) on that note, he loves going to gigs with you. You wanna go check a local band? He’s immediately got ticket stubs for their next gig.

- another acts of service guy. You see those tiktoks of girls grabbing something under the table and the guy holding the corner of the table so she wouldn’t accidentally hit it? Or like when you got full hands and you can’t go to open the door, the guy’s materialized beside you, opening it for you? Yeah that’s him. Real subtle about it though. Don’t bring attention to it pls unless you want him to not look at you for a couple of minutes (he’s blushing pls be patient)

- the type to nag at you when you get hurt. Man oh MAN does he nag. He’s gone through one too many fights already so he knows how to patch himself up real nice. But when YOU get hurt, he’s immediately digging through his first aid kit, cleaning your wound and patching you up while nagging you to be more careful next time, what if he wasn’t around to help, what if this what if that grumble grumble. He’s got his lollipop in his mouth btw. Pull it out for a second and GIVE HIM THE BIGGEST SMOOCH TO SHUT HIM UP PLEASE. Sweetest kisses. Both literally and figuratively 🥹

𝐬𝐮𝐨.

- GENTLEMAN GENTLEMAN GENTLEMAN. Oh my god if you don’t want attention drawn to the both of you, never bring Suo out in public!!!!!!!! He does the most for you so effortlessly, so beautifully, people swoon and get jealous because of it. The type to give you flowers too. Not just on special occasions too. And not just flowers in a bouquet. No. The flowers are already arranged in a vase so you wouldn’t have to worry about grabbing a vase yourself. Goodness your normal dates would seem so extravagant when he’s around. You’d be eating at a McDonald’s and you’re looking over at your lover and he looks so dashing and he smells so good and he’s got the softest smile anfjdjjdj UGHHHHHH!!!!!! But if you’re not into flowers, he’d find some other way to express his love for you in a different way. Whatever you’re comfortable with, he’s down for.

- big tease. He likes seeing you squirm and pout when he’s playing a little prank on you. You swear you can see a slight blush on his cheeks when you pout but it’s so so subtle you think it’s the lighting.

- is not afraid to express how much he absolutely LOVES you. If you need reassurance, he’s pulling you to the side to talk about it. If you need him to kiss you more, oh he’s doing THAT AND MORE. If you’re the jealous type, even better. He’s smooching you in front of the person you think is flirting with him. But if you’re not into that intense stuff, he’s pulling you into the conversation, keeping a hand on your waist and looking over to you for an extra opinion. Lays on the “dove”, “my love”, “my sweet”, “my heart”, T H I C K . And I fucking mean THICK.

𝐤𝐢𝐫𝐲𝐮.

- *dreamy sigh* a fucking dreamboat is what he is. You could never, EVER go wrong with kiryu, man. I swear. A gentleman through and through. Takes you on spontaneous dates, likes going to arcades with you and winning you the biggest plushie!!!! (he’s really good at it), would take you on perfume dates (HE SMELLS GOOD CANONICALLY UGH), would even do your make up for you. Ugh. UGH. He’d be the best partner you could ever ask for. Y’know those perfect couples on tiktok? That’s you and him. But it’s all genuine, baby. That’s just how he loves.

- big on matching outfits. But not the blatant matching ones, no. Like, same color palettes, same textures, YES. YES. The outfit brainstorming is part of your dates too. He’d let you borrow his clothes if you want, he’d even let you spritz some of his most expensive perfumes 😭!!!!

- SKINCARE DATES TOO. WOAH WOAH WOAH. like, he has a AM/PM routine but he'd love to do it with you! he'd suggest all the best stuff for your skin, check if your skin's more on the dry side, oily side, yes. your man knows his shit and it SHOWS. your skin's practically glowing when you're with him. boyfriend air doesn't exist.

- IF YOU NEED REASSURANCE AND A HYPEMAN HE IS YOUR FUCKING GUY I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH. God he’d see you looking at yourself in the mirror, fussing over how you look and practically putting yourself down, his heart would break. Like, how could you not see how he sees you? He’s taking you in his arms and telling you everything he absolutely adores about you, how beautiful you are, showering you with praise on the sweetest most kiryu way possible. He’s peppering kisses along your tear streaked cheeks until you’re smiling again. “There’s that smile,” he says as he pulls away, cupping your face in his hands. Ugh he even has the most lovesick puppydog eyes for you. “I love you, alright? So much,” he kisses your forehead, “So, So much.” He whispers into your hairline. GOOOOODDDDDDD 🫂 and did I say HYPEMAN? I mean it. Do a little spin for him in your new clothes and he’s screaming and yelling and taking so much pictures of you!!!!! His instagram feed’s full of you, your couple photos, your dates… practically a fan account of your relationship. He loves you and he loves loving you!!!!!!!!! and if you're the jealous type, he'd be so patient with you. he'd reassure you to the moon and back!!! ofc since he's popular with girls, he'd do his best to reassure you that he only has his eyes on you and you alone.

- gaming nights with kiryu. Oh Gaming Nights With Kiryu please save me gaming nights with kiryu. He’s got a whole set up ready for the both of you, his PS5 hot and ready, snacks opened. It’s a special thing for the both of you too! He decorates his apartment in the theme of the game you’re both playing, horror game? His apartment looks like a horror house. Smash bros? BET. (He’ll be smashing you by the end of the night gehrhhrhehehehHgdhdhs). I know he’s got LED strips so he’s using that to his advantage too. Ok I’m getting carried away. Kiryu best partner best lover best everything.

𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞.

- *RIPS SHIRT OPEN LIKE A WEREWOLF GRGEGGRHEHE BARKING!!!!!* TOGAMEEEEE!!!!!!! 🗣️🗣️🗣️ I am apologizing for this part, love. I’m gonna go hard.

- canonically doesn’t text. Only leaves you on read. Calling him though? CALLING HIM?? 🫠 he’s answering as soon as it rings. None of that “wait until the third ring” baloney. His baby’s calling. If he’s doing something before you called, HE’S DROPPING IT FOR YOU. And he answers in that deep voice of his and 🫠🫠🫠 sigh. You guys stay on the phone for hours. He’s the type to do things while he’s calling you too. If you’re away and he can’t be with you, he’d love it if you could stay on the phone with him for way longer too. Big on facetiming too. He’s fallen asleep with facetime on. You have a collection of screenshots of his pretty sleeping face. You’ve fallen asleep on facetime too. He doesn’t have as much screenshots though and he haaaates himself for it because he spends so much time just staring at you through his phone, smiling to himself like. FUCK he’s so in love with you!!!!! YOU!!!! 🗣️🗣️🗣️ plus he’s got nervous shaky hands so hehe first time you guys facetimed you weren’t a couple yet. You fell asleep and he tried taking a screenshot and dropped his phone. The sound woke you up lol you give him shit about that moment sometimes, teasing him. He’s a blushing mess, elbowing you gently so you’d stop.

- AWKWARD TOGAME WHEN YOU GUYS FIRST DATED UGH SHIIIITTTTT!!!!! 🗣️🗣️🗣️ he’s canonically bad with groups of people and people in general. Choji had to adopt him forcefully into shishitoren ok? So that translates so SO well to you and your relationship with him. He may or may not have (allegedly, for legal reasons) asked for romance advice from Choji. He may or may not have (again, allegedly) tried that yawning and stretching trick so he could rest his arm behind you. No. Nope. Didn’t hear it from me.

- awkward and SHY togame when he made the first move on you!!!!!!! He had a ramune bottle in his hand because it was shaking so bad he couldn’t control it. You GAVE HIM HIS FIRST KISS DHHRHDHRRRRAAAAGHHH 🗣️🗣️🐺 you had to hold his other hand to stop it from trembling. Yours were too tbh hehe made him feel a bit better because you were just as nervous as he is.

- once you both are super into the relationship though, my goodness expect togame to be THE BEST PARTNER. See how he was with Choji? Did anything and everything to keep his smile? He’d do that for you too. Amp it up to a 100. His surprises are simple, never was one for grand gestures. But goodness you can feel the effort. Even employed some help from his old man pals at the community baths 🫠

- speaking of the old men, THEY WERE THE FIRST PEOPLE TO KNOW ABOUT HIS CRUSH ON YOU!!!!! Like, they were doting on togame when he expressed he’s never felt this way for someone before, how he can feel his heart racing and his face heating up when you’re around. They knew he was in love with you before he knew for himself.

- OF COURSE THEY KNEW YOUUU. So when you wanted to get into a relationship with togame, knowing it’s serious now, you went out of your way to meet up with the group of old men!!!! There, you discovered that togame has been talking about you nonstop. They already loved you for him before you formally met!!!!! They gave you their collective blessing, of course. You both are their grandchildren in their eyes.

- togame CAN COOK. EXPECT HIM TO COOK FOR YOU CONSTANTLY. And if you can cook, EVEN BETTER. Cooking dates, farmer’s market dates, izakaya dates, GASTRONOMY! You often surprise each other with decorated lunch boxes.

- nap dates all the time. Like, when you’re not bumping uglies or cooking or bonding with your friends, you both are asleep in each other’s arms. He gives the best hugs too. Like, those hugs that just cover you, you know?

- obviously, he loves you. But god damn it he wants to scream it into the world!!!! With the way he treats you though, constantly worrying about you, being there at your beck and call, pressing kisses into the crown of your head whenever you’re next to each other, he doesn’t need to scream it or utter a single word. You can just see the love he has for you. Everyone knows it.

- has thought about marrying you a couple times already. The type to call you his spouse teasingly too just to see you blush. He cannot wait to call you that officially. If he were good at technology, he would definitely have a pinterest board ready lol

a/n: wehehehehajsdkj hehehe togame. i missed writing for him, guys. THANK YOU FOR READING THROUGH TO THE END. some of the togame headcanons were from my convo with @yisxn!!! the ramune bottle detail was so perfect I couldn't skip it! also the asking for advice from the old men. YOU HAVE A BEAUTIFUL MIND ILYSM. thank you to @brainrot-of-a-thot for helping me clear up my brainfog last nightttt. also to you, reader, ILY. thank you for reading my word vomit!!!!!!!!!

[gloomwitchwrites]

Omg!! Think you can do the opposite version of the hickey ask? Where the guys notice a hickey and get all jealous n’ pissy🤩 i love it & your writing🥰

Ha! Anon, you have me giggling and kicking my feet. The hickey ask anon is talking about can be found HERE, but I absolutely love the idea of doing the opposite. Instead of a hickey on one of the guys, it's on reader. hehe. (oh god I need to go touch grass or maybe use my teeth to the mow the lawn right now because I am salivating).

Presented in four double drabbles.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, possessive behavior, rough kissing, secret relationships, suggestive themes, jealousy

Word Count: 800

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

John’s grip on your upper arm is a vice.

“Don’t walk away from me,” he says, voice low.

“Let go, John,” you snap. “You’re going to cause a scene.”

“Am I?” he counters. “Everyone’s already been talking. You’re showing that thing off on your neck like you’re proud of it.”

“Maybe I am,” you reply. “Why do you care?”

With a quick tug, John plasters you against him. His body is all heat and muscle. Everything in you ramps up, becomes wanton. It remembers him.

“Who the fuck touched what’s mine?” he asks in a hoarse whisper.

You swallow. Shake your head. “I’m not yours, John. You always push me away.”

John’s lips come dangerously close to yours. “Tell me who touched you.”

“You did. Don’t you remember?”

You feel him freeze, as if his mind and body are frozen as he tries to recall what happened. The two of you had been drinking when you slid into his lap.

John closes the distance, stealing a kiss that is more possession than anything else. The sensation goes straight down to your toes, and pools between your thighs.

“Come back to my office.”

“John—”

“I want to recreate last night.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“No. No. Don’t walk away from me.”

Kyle’s hand grips your wrist. He tugs, pulling you back in his direction. Kyle is right there, standing so close, head bent forward with intimacy that sinks down into your soul and shatters everything you are.

You cannot resist this man. Never.

“I don’t understand why you’re acting this way, Kyle.”

Kyle grasps the side of your face, his thumb pressing down on your bottom lip. “Because someone marked you. I want to know who it is.”

Does he not know? Does Kyle not remember?

Kyle licks his lips and you follow the movement, remembering how he tasted last night.

“Tell me who it is. I just want to talk to them. Set them straight.”

You laugh and Kyle frowns.

“You’ll be talking to yourself,” you reply.

His mouth opens. Closes. Kyle’s hand drops away from your face to settle on your shoulder, fingers delicately tracing the mark on your neck.

“I did this?” he asks, almost absently.

“You did,” you affirm, heat rising to your cheeks. “Last night.”

Kyle smirks. His gaze roams upward, meeting your own. “Want me to give you a few more? Doesn’t have to be on your neck.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

“Oh, love. What’s this?”

You lean away but Johnny is quick. He corners you, pressing you into the wall. He’s smiling, but you can see the underlying irritation. His gaze roams all over your body.

“Need something?” you bite, knowing that if the two of you linger here too long, someone will come looking or accidently happen upon you.

It’s not like Johnny is being discreet. He has one knee between your legs, and a hand on your hip. It’s a possessively intimate embrace, and it reminds you of all the things the two of you did last night.

“Aye. I do actually.” Johnny lightly pinches the mark on your neck and you flinch.

“What the fuck?”

“Who gave you that?”

You blink. “What?”

“The fucking hickey. Tell me so I can beat their fucking face bloody.”

You roll your eyes and Johnny pinches you again.

“Stop that.”

“Tell me.”

“You’ll be fighting yourself, Johnny.”

Johnny’s demeanor completely changes, becoming a sultry thing that swirls pleasure deep in your belly. This time he doesn’t pinch. He leans in, running his tongue along the mark. When he pulls back, he grasps you tight, pressing his lips to yours, stealing all breath.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

“You’re mine,” growls Simon as he picks you up and sets you on top of your desk.

You have no space to argue. Simon is already kissing you. Nipping your lips. Drawing forth a bit of blood to suck into his mouth.

“I know,” you whimper as his hand squeezes your thigh, dragging you to the edge of the desk. His hardness grinds against you, and you moan.

“If you know, then tell me why someone else has marked what’s fucking mine.” Simon grasps the back of your neck, drawing you back, and holding firm. Your fingers claw at the front of his shirt.

“What are you talking about?”

Simon growls. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

You blink. Completely confused. “You gave this to me.”

Simon says nothing. He just stares. “Last night.” You shrug. “I mean we drank a lot but fuck. Thought you’d remember that.”

Simon gently eases his hand from your neck. “I don’t. But you know what that means, love?”

You suck on your bottom lip, tasting a bit of blood that Simon coaxed to the surface. “What?”

“Just means I need to give you a few more. As reminders. For you. And others.”

taglist:

@km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@enarien @saoirse06 @ferns-fics @unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett

@ravenpoe67 @tulipsun-flower @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat @ninman82

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@haven-1307 @voids-universe @itsberrydreemurstuff @spicyspicyliving @keiva1000

@littlemisscriesherselftosleep @greeniegreengreen @umno-yeah @blackhawkfanatic @talooolaaloolla

@sadlonelybagel @kadeeesworld @iloveslasher @sammysinger04 @dakotakazansky

@suhmie @jaggersinclair @jackrabbitem @lxblm @beebeechaos

@no-oneelsebutnsu @kidd3ath @certainlygay @thewulf @lovely-ateez

@whisperwispxx @gingergirl06 @eternallyvenus @smileykiddie08 @arrozyfrijoles23

[kithtaehyung]

broken, pt. 2 (3tan) (m) | myg

title: broken (pt. 2) pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f) series:masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party | basketball | stay | sidewalk talk | friends | dalo | like that | anytime | sundress season | yoongi’s interlude | forfeit | flutter | video call | busted | broken (pt. 1) rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , fluff , smut ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: the championship game lights up... and everything goes down. note: not too much to say other than thank you. this part is definitely another very, very close one to my heart. please buckle up and enjoy the ride. warnings: [spice warnings under the cut] language, angst, tension, alcohol mention & consumption, fights, basketball!yoongi🧍‍♀️, cocky!yoongi, jimin😳, tense situations, did i say angst?, long hair yoongi, crying, bro😀, reader is a real one i don’t make the rules, arguments, the chains stay on(???), …bad boy yoongi😀👍, saying softhours puts some of this lightly, bro🥲, blood/wound mentions, hurt/comfort, there’s just a lot in here y’all idek, taehyung being the best ever, …angst. drop date: february 9th, 2024, 10:37pm est word count: 17.7k my god

smut warnings: cursing, choking, light slapping, breast play, angry s*x a ha ha, crying, multiple explicit scenes y'all istg don't perceive me lol, c*nt slapping, penetrative s*x, brat!reader, protected s*x, edging, consent king ofc :), rough s*x, b*cksh*ts and a lot of them, ...unprotected s*x (yeah it's here and y'all better be responsible or so help me!!!), f*ngering, or*l (m/f rec), brat tamer!3tan yoongi!!!, reader loses themselves for a sec, but yoongi is a king, pain k*nk whewwww, kissing, so much kissing lmfao, c*m play, slight bond*ge (yoongi hands), spanking, aftercare ofc :'))

-

-

There’s no way.

How the fuck is he here? When did that horrible excuse of a guy even join a team? Had he been playing intramurals this whole time? 

“No fuckin’ way.”

Your eyes find your brother standing rigid at your side, wrists tensed to hell and shoulders spiked. Did he not know he was playing, either? Judging by his smoldering question, you’re going to guess he wasn’t aware. 

“Were they always on this team?” 

“No.”

“I don’t remember them being on any teams.”

They? Them? So they recognize more from the court on that day you try to not think about. Shifting your vision, you start gauge reactions under sounds of the growing crowd. 

It’s Yoongi that looks at you first, eyes lowering to the hand you still have on your arm damn it you should be okay about that night already. But you can’t seem to let your limb go, your fingers covering it in a weak attempt at protection and resilience. 

The blaze in his eyes makes you shake. Even as you swallow your pleas for everyone to just go home, he doesn’t look away. Instead, he walks over to stand in front of your knees, motioning for you to scoot over one so he can take the end seat.

Normally, you would slightly question why he wouldn’t just sit next to you. But this time, you’re hyper aware of what he’s doing—and why. It’s so obvious that you wanna reach out and grip his sweaty hand. 

Yoongi absolutely sat there to shield you.

And your heart burns and burns.

If only he could do more, be more, show more. Because with a rattled ego and tainted mind, you’re already yearning for his touch, wanting him to whisk you out of here and bring you back to the comfort of his home—just like he did that night. 

God, he makes you dizzy doing absolutely nothing. 

“What’s the plan,” he asks, eyes on the court and palms between his knees.

“Dunno yet.” Your brother shakes his head before looking back, eyes narrowing at the laughs on the other bench. “But I might get my ass thrown out if we—”

“Play.” 

Immediately, all three of them snap their heads your way. Fuck, your arm is still… 

One person cannot have this hold on you. There’s no way you’re going to let him control your every waking moment, and your determination bubbles into your commands. “Play the game and beat his ass,” you seethe, holding yourself together and aiming daggers everywhere. “Just make it quick.” 

Yoongi gives you a look before Jimin snags him with an eyebrow raise. 

“And you’re paying me double.” 

Looking at the man beside you, it’s almost comforting seeing his attention fully on your face. If it weren’t for your ghost on the other side of the scoring table and your brother standing there, you wouldn’t hesitate to kiss him. 

But you only nod, getting a huff and a lopsided curve in response before you watch him lock eyes with your brother, “What do you wanna do?” 

After a long, resigned sigh, your sibling finally relents, “Fuck this shit up.” 

Good. Yes. This is what you want—for you and them. “Exactly.” 

Scanning around the tight circle, you notice that you have everyone’s attention. 

But one person seems to send a question without any words at all. In kind, you answer the same way, wings battering your stomach when all of them send thunder to the court with lightning in their eyes.

Yoongi scoffs through a slant, carrying the air of someone you never want to mess with in your fucking life. “The fuckin’ nerve.” 

Jimin hums, sliding a finger along his flexed to hell jaw. “Bold,” he adds. And his voice drop sends shivers when he turns to you,

“Don’t worry, love.” 

You stare.

“This will be over soon.” 

-

-

The game is… just a game. For now.

No one’s taunted hard other than a few smirks and winks, and right now it seems as if both teams are just being competitive more than antagonistic. Which relaxes you to the point where you’re cheering from the bench with the other players—and their coach that arrived late—jumping and yelling and clapping when things go in their favor.

Your brother’s slamming down dunks. Jimin’s been playing amazing defense with his quick reflexes and high stamina.

And Yoongi? Has gotten sickeningly sharp. All those late nights at the rec center are paying off in this championship and, when he scores a hard shot, the pride you feel launches you to your feet. 

“Nice job, b—” Oh fuck you almost shout something that should never be public knowledge. Holding your tongue, you quickly switch it up with a hasty, “Let’s go!” 

That was close. Way too close. 

Get it together. 

But you cannot help it right now. Seeing Yoongi facing off against the man you both wanna square up against? And making it look easy? The fluttering you feel in your belly grows double. Triple. Tenfold. His gestures, the way he acts like it’s nothing, his shrugs at their failed attempts to stop him—everything’s making you scratch proverbial walls and kick bench chairs. 

And it’s not just him—the whole team has been playing excellently. Each play seems intentional; every pass and movement is strategic. If you didn’t know this was a casual rec game, you would think they’re gunning for a real, prestigious trophy. 

However. 

When it’s starting to be very clear who the better squad is, that’s when things start getting more than tense. 

On a foul call, both sides start getting in each others’ faces. And you peg that as normal until someone on your team gets shoved and your brother immediately gets between the action. 

Both you and the coach shoot up from your seats. 

Shit, shit, shit. If there’s one thing your older sibling’s gonna do in this game, it’ll be finding any excuse to deck that man in the face. And once that happens, there’s no telling how many injuries are gonna walk off polished floors.

Thankfully, everyone separates without a ruckus, and timeout is called on your side. The crowd starts to yell in favor of either team, and that’s when you notice that Taehyung has been joined by Shiv and your friends. From the looks of things, all five of them are laser focused on you. 

You hold a quick thumbs-up before you’re covered by hot and sweaty men huddling around the bench. And you immediately agree with their coach when he barks, 

“I need you all to calm down.” 

“No can do, coach.” 

“Not if they aren’t.” 

Shit. All of them look fucking livid, not giving any shits whatsoever if they’re willing to talk back to their leader. What’s really been happening on the court? Has it been even more tense than you perceived? 

Oblivious to the context behind this matchup, their coach keeps yelling, “Look, I don’t give a shit if you have something to settle. Play the game and leave it on the floor. Understood?” When there’s charged silence, he yells it even louder. 

And a smattering of agreement comes out before all of you hear an even bigger yelling session booming from the other bench. When you look over, it’s quickly noticeable that they’re getting reamed over there, too. 

Jimin watches before speaking, and it seems like your coach’s pleas fell on deaf ears, “Fifteen went for my legs.” 

“Saw that. Let’s switch cus he can’t guard me.” 

“K.” Park swivels his head to address someone else. “You good to keep playing?” 

Your brother responds with a nod, wiping his never-ending sweat. “Yeah, I’m good.” 

Huh. Even though you know he’s mad, the man seems… Calm. Eerily calm. It’s reminding you of the way he acted after you came home from Yoongi’s. 

And you don’t like it one bit. 

But the timeout is over, and both teams eye each other on their walk back onto the court. As it continues, the gym erupts into life again, with a bit of back and forth shots racking the scoreboard up. 

And Yoongi keeps scoring. And scoring. And scoring. 

Which lands him in a bit of trouble when the same idiot from Dalo pushes him during a layup. After he manages to make the shot, Yoongi immediately flicks him off—which gets a whistle blown. Which also means he has to sit on the bench for a second because his coach is pissed. 

Ignoring the scathing remarks being thrown, he dumps himself next to you. And you immediately feel the heat roll off of him in waves, trying hard to focus on the game. “Don’t be stupid,” you jut out. 

“What?” 

“Don’t be stupid. These guys aren’t worth it.” 

“After what he did to you?” 

The way those words leave his mouth ice you over, flares spiraling through every fiber of your being. Your reaction is so visceral that you can barely get your response out, “Yeah, but…” 

Leaning on his knees, Yoongi wipes his forehead with a crinkled to hell jersey, excess sweat pinging onto his sneakers. The crowd is loud and the buzzers even louder, but they aren’t enough to drown out his bite,

“I can’t let that shit go.” 

“Yoongi.” 

“Sorry, doll.” 

“Please just—” 

Yoongi leaves the bench before you can finish, and you whip your head in a rush, hands jutting out in a desperate attempt to hold him back. 

Only for him to be just out of reach. 

-

-

After halftime, it’s a whole different game. 

From an outside perspective, it’s as if everyone was using the first half to sniff each other out, circling around each other before deciding how and when to go in for the kill. 

And Yoongi isn’t the only one that you’re starting to worry about. Jimin, your brother, and even Rohan and the other guys are on edge, playing hard and doing everything they can to keep their scoring lead. 

Both you and their coach know you can’t stop whatever’s going on out there. And you’re starting to feel yourself getting angry at how your brother and them are egging the guys on. 

Why are they taunting? What the hell is making them so bent on making the other team pissed? Yes, all that went down with you, but nothing else had happened since then. And they clearly aren’t listening to anyone telling them to calm down.

If they end up starting shit you are going to—the fuck! 

Yoongi gets straight shoved again as he goes for a layup, and you shoot up in your chair as he hits the back wall with a thud. While the players at your side are yelling and everyone on the court starts grouping in shouts, you stay rigid, solely watching Yoongi eye his attacker—the same idiot from Dalo.

Fuck everything, you wanna rush into the fray and throw hands yourself because that looked painful.

The only thing that’s stopping you is the chilling fact that Yoongi is… Grinning. 

Wiping his curved lips, he waits while the refs break up the squabble, still looking triumphant as he walks to the line to shoot his free throws. When both of them are made, he stares directly at your assaulter—as you finally call it like it is—and doesn’t stop even when the coward looks away.

A whistle blows, and the game continues to be close. Too close, too close, too close. A couple more timeouts let you see just how laser-focused everyone is, and you’re a little shaken when it feels like they forgot you were even occupying their bench. 

What the hell is being said on the court? Even Jimin is brimming with anger. 

But after a few back and forths, Yoongi passes to your brother for a hard dunk, basket ringing from his throwdown and shaking when he lands. 

Thank god. Those points are enough. They’re gonna win. 

All the pent up anxiety you’ve harbored all game releases as everyone starts cheering, and your pride soars as your boys stare down their opponents while the clock winds down.

It’s over. The game is over, nothing too serious happened, and you can all go the fuck home to eat dinner and celebrate. 

Your eyes catch Yoongi throwing a rudely lopsided curve across the court. Even when Jimin comes up to push him back in excitement, his expression doesn’t change. 

And you find that wildly, unfathomably attractive. 

Then, as it goes, your brother comes up and they all share quick daps, eyes ablaze and not letting the losers out of their sight. 

Well. All of them are infamous for a reason. You would guess their energy altogether certainly contributes to that. Because the aura you feel oozing from them fills the gymnasium all the way up to your knees.��

And the sigh you let out mingles with their coach’s shake of his head.

-

-

Things are still tense as they all shake hands—or at least offer hands to shake—with the other team. The atmosphere is even a little iced when they receive their trophy. 

But the way you’re currently being surrounded as your guys converse hides you from plain sight, so you feel heavily protected. Even Jimin, who’s usually cheerful even when exhausted, wields sharp eyes as he keeps glancing over his shoulder. 

Honestly? You wouldn’t know what to do without them. Both your brother and all his friends, good pasts or not, are great people. They didn’t need to shield you like this. But they’re doing it anyway, because they won’t give that lowlife another reason or chance to approach you. 

Yeah. Your older sibling knows how to choose his circle.

It’s making you wonder if… 

Nah. 

That’s still too big a reach. 

When it seems like all of them and their cheering squad are gone, everyone starts making their way over to the bleachers—and you’re acutely reminded of what went down under similar looking ones the other night. 

Your shivers are overshadowed by Yuri’s telltale screams to Rohan, “You were so good, baby! Are you okay?”

Reia and Dom shake their heads before focusing on you, the latter being the spokeswoman, “So what was all that for?”

“Don’t ask,” you sigh, knowing exactly what she’s referring to. “I’m just glad they won and that we can go home.”

“You’re not coming to Yuri’s?” Reia asks. “I thought we planned on that, no?”

Ah, shit. Earlier this week, you did make plans with them without really thinking about what day they were gonna fall on. But now you’re so mentally drained that you kinda just wanna go—

“Is anyone else starving? I’m hungry as fuck!” 

Right. Food. Adrenaline made you forget you were starving. Glancing towards your brother, you quickly remind him, “Yeah, me. And you’re paying.”

“Ah, shit, that’s right.” As he lets out a hard groan and deals with Jimin and Yoongi’s comments, your sibling relents, “Alright, where are we going.”

“Up to you,” you shrug, stealing a little look at the man you want to kiss like hell for his performance tonight. 

God, Yoongi’s so handsome. As Jimin leaves his side, he silently wipes his forehead of any excess sweat, hands and shoulders shining in the lights wait wait wait. Hold on. 

Walking over, you toss any care about who notices you out the window. And as he eyes your approach, you murmur with care and concern, “Is your back okay?” 

Blinking once, twice, the man nods. “Yeah, it’s all good.”

“You sure? That looked…”

Of course he decides that now is the perfect time to rake his sweaty locks back. Speaking so low that only you can hear, Yoongi reassures with a fist full of hair, “I’m fine, doll.” 

Motherfucker. 

Pinning down your urge to reach out and smother him, you only breathe relief. And before you move away to put some distance between, you whisper, “Thank you.”

Yoongi looks your way again. “For what?” 

Swallowing what’s left of your anxiety, you sigh. “For not getting into it out there. I was about to get mad as hell, but.. Looks like they were all talk.” 

“Mm.”

Honestly? It’s a miracle. The game’s over without any hitches or brawls? More relief starts blossoming in your chest, prompting a smile to grace your features. “You looked so good out there, by the way. I almost called you ba—”

“What are y’all talking about over there!”

Your mouth snaps shut as soon as you see your brother watching, but Yoongi is quick to fire off an insult, “The way you always take so long to pick something.”

“I picked already!”

“Then let’s go then.”

Laughing, you join the whole crew as you’re all the last ones to walk out. Your friends and Shiv parked in another lot since one side was already full, so you tell them you’ll meet at the restaurant.

Some other teammates decide to join, with jerseys being shucked off as everyone heads out the door. Immediately, body odor swoops into your nose, making you welcome the crisp, fresh air of night. 

Scratch that. You smell oncoming rain. 

Conversations cease, which only leaves the sound confirming your observation: booming, rolling thunder. Stopping at the edge of the gym’s awning, multiple heads turn up at the rumbles, watching lightning crack the sky. 

In front of you, Jimin shifts his head to the side. “Still?” 

And when you look at who he’s asking, you see Yoongi nod. 

Weird. 

But it’s not raining just yet, so all of you make your way into the lot and to your cars. As you do, you check your phone while making your way over, aiming a question at Tae, “You know where we’re going?” 

“Yeah, it’s not far,” he responds, fishing out his own device. “I think we’ve been there before.” 

We? Looks like things are progressing nicely over there. Since you’re lingering behind the guys, you start to take a small jab, “We, huh? Cute.” 

Lips spread as tight as his eyes, Taehyung parries. “Cute? Look who’s talking, miss whipped.” 

“You’re whipped.” 

“No, you.” 

“No, you,” you giggle out, reaching out to tickle Tae’s side and laughing as he flinches away. You chase him for a few seconds before you see his whole body freeze completely, asking a small question before going quiet.  

And when you slowly follow his line of vision, your heart freefalls to your gut, smashing it so hard you feel bile sting the back of your throat. 

The man from Dalo. And all the guys from the court plus some. 

Surround both Jimin’s and your brother’s cars.

Fuck. Oh, fuck, there’s so many of them, standing and waiting and unflinching in the bursts of thunder inching closer and closer what the fuck are you gonna do— 

“Taehyung.”

Your eyes shake. 

“Get her out of here. Now.”

And you’ve never screamed so loud. 

Every word rips out of your mouth before you’re promptly shushed by large fingers, icicles pinging around your heart and holding it down, “Don’t fucking do thi—!” 

To your horror, Tae’s already hauling you back, voice low and firm in your ear, “Come on.” 

“No! What the fuck—” 

“We’re leaving.”

“Please—!”

There are so many of them. So, so many of them. Panic drowns out your words and excess leaks out of your eyes, your own storm preventing you from seeing that your best friend is just as torn apart. 

“Babe, we have to go now.” 

“No, let me go!” 

They’re outnumbered. What if they have weapons? What if the police are called? What if something happens that you aren’t prepared for?

You’re screaming. Curses, their names, or whatever whatever you don’t even know what the fuck you’re saying because your toes are kissing the edge of madness. 

Dragged a good distance away, your yells devolve into incoherency, your nose and eye sockets smashing into Taehyung’s solid forearm so hard it hurts. 

Make it out, make it out, make it out. For the love of everything in the fucking universe and beyond it, make it out alive. 

Some movements and backs straightening are the last things you see before getting pulled around the corner.

And when Yoongi calmly rolls one of his shoulders, you feel a wick of your soul burn out.

Panic. Worry. Panic and more panic. The car ride that Tae paid for is the blurriest muddy water you’ve ever waded through.

Truthfully, you don’t even remember blankets being pulled over your shoulder. Where even are you? Oh, you’re in a bed. Whose bed are you in because this isn’t yours. But what does it matter anyway what does anything matter anyway nothing matters there’s nothing you can do you gotta get up and go back over there get up get up go—

As soon as you yank his bedroom door open, Taehyung is there, holding you back and pushing your frantic energy back inside. “Tae, if you don’t let me—”

“Do what!”

“I’m going back!” Wrestling out of his strong hold, you bolt down his hallway, head clanging as your shoulder bumps into a wall. “We need to go back—”

“Stop!” You hear running as you burst through the living room, whizzing past the glowing television. “We have to stay here—”

No no no. There’s no way you’re staying here when you need to be back at that lot. Who the fuck would call for help if anyone needs it? When they’re gonna need it? Your vision proves so blurry you can’t even find your shoes—

Arms wrap around your waist and you fight back with a scream, “Let me go!”

“Stop and just think for a second—”

“Why aren’t you with me on this, they’re—”

“Dumb as fuck!” 

Your friend’s quick comment is so sharp it cuts your breath. As you still in his firm but comforting hold, you finally stop to breathe. Breathe, breathe, breathe as you’re turned to level a look with his eyes.

Eyes that are red-rimmed and so, so raw. “They’re idiots,” Taehyung grits out. “But they will be alright.” 

From the shake of his voice, you find that neither of you think that for sure. 

“I need to.. To…” Your breaths are ragged, energy spent and head dizzy from your quick exit from his bed. As you come down from your volcanic high, every weight the world places on your back proves too much. 

“You need to relax,” Tae advises, guiding you further back inside. And you don’t speak as he leads you past the couch, past the pictures on his hallway wall, and into the dark of his bedroom.

Maybe it’s over. Right? Maybe someone will answer if you ring them up. “Call. I need to call…” 

“Shh,” he soothes again, walking you backwards away from his door. When the bends of your knees hit his bed, Taehyung lets you down slowly until you’re sitting. “I’ll do it.” 

Brain fried from hyperactivity, you can only nod. 

Your friend steps away to fiddle with his phone, the light illuminating his beautiful features in the night. When he holds it to his ear, this is when you hear rain and the television in the living room, noticing that it’s playing a movie he watches for comfort. 

Shit. He’s going through it just like you are, and yet he’s still finding energy to calm your nerves? What have you even done to deserve him?

Guess you know how to choose your circle, too. 

Going unanswered, Taehyung lowers his hand, thumb rubbing the homescreen before gripping the device hard. 

Both of you are in the same boat. So steer when he can’t do it anymore. Soft but assertive, you rise to your feet, offering your embrace while calling his name, “..Tae.”

When he turns, the man wastes no time in dropping his phone to bring you in close. “It’ll be okay,” he murmurs, and you hear his words on your head but feel the trembles in his chest. “Okay?”

Feeble fingers grab at his soft shirt, and you bury into his scent while soaked and tired eyes shut. 

You want to believe him. You do. You do. 

But hope may be a bitch. 

So you don’t. 

-

-

Forever passes while you both lie still in his bed, with Taehyung holding you close and keeping you subdued with notes of honey and wood. You both try to have conversation, but it’s disjointed and manufactured, so giving up is a group effort. 

You’re about to give up on a lot of things before you both jolt at Tae’s phone vibrating. 

The world shifts quick as you both sit up, the call immediately being accepted and a low greeting whooshing at your side, “Hey.”

With bated breath, you hear Jimin on the line. “Hey.” 

“You okay?”

“Yeah, we’re all alright, but…”

We. We, we, we, all of them thank the fucking world. As your breath is held, Taehyung’s voice is solid, “Say it.”

“My eye is pretty fucked. Yoongi’s face is cut up and he’s got some nasty bruises on his—” 

You don’t even remember yanking the phone to your mouth. “Where is he.”

Jimin audibly pauses on the line before having the audacity to chuckle. Irked and feeling ire bubble back to the surface, you seethe, “This isn’t funny, Park. Where the fuck is he?” 

“With us.” Us. Shit. “In the car.” 

Oh. 

“Your brother’s here, too.” 

“Ah.” That means they’re all there. They’re all heading home. “Am I on speaker.” 

“Umm.. Yeah.” 

As much as you’re relieved they’re all okay, stockpiled anxiety transforms into anger, your limit striking the thundering sky. “Actually, you know what? Good. Now I can say you’re all idiots and immature as fuck.” 

It’s your sibling that responds first. “Hey, wait a damn minute—” 

“I waited long enough!” you scream, ignoring Taehyung’s wide eyes. 

You know you need to relax. But you can’t help what’s happening right now and all you feel is pain. “I know this shit isn’t new to y’all, but really? You didn’t need to do this.” 

“He was gonna—”

“All you had to do was play the game! Why’d you have to make them mad? Do you even know what could’ve happened back there?” Damn it, you weren’t supposed to cry during this part, not when you just want them to know they fucked up. 

And the response is dead silence. Because of course it is. But if they won’t answer you here, they’re gonna answer another, “Just tell me one thing,” you plead. “Is this gonna happen again?” 

That one your brother answers with finality. “They won’t be coming around anymore.” 

Gulping, you give Taehyung a glossy-eyed look before staring at his lit screen again. Trying not to let your voice waver, you accept his response, “Okay… Are you okay?” 

“Me? Yeah, the hits I took were weak as fuck. I’ll get home soon so if you wanna order in tonight we can.” 

“Fuck that.” 

“Huh?” 

What an idiot. “Bro, you don’t even know how fucking mad I am,” you accuse through gritted teeth. There’s no way in hell you wanna deal with their bullshit. Ignoring your pleas and staring harm in the face? Forget it. “I’m going to Yuri’s.” 

“What? Nah, come home tonight and we’ll talk.” 

“I just—No.” Taehyung has to grip your shoulder before pulling you into a hug. And you’re still steel in his arms because you haven’t been this upset in ages. “I’m not talking to any of you for awhile.” 

And you mean that. 

“…Fine. But go asap then. I don’t want you out late on your own.” 

So you gotta listen to what he wants but when it comes to what you say, it’s crickets? Goddamn, you’re furious. “…Of course you don’t.”

And you hang up before anyone can say anything else. 

-

-

You open the front door to your brother leaning against the hallway wall.

Both of you eye each other, one of you with a perfectly fine face and the other that isn’t so lucky because he’s a fool.

And no words are exchanged as you trudge your frustration to the kitchen. 

-

-

Ice. Bandages. Dinner. Anger propels you through it all.

Whipping up a quick but hearty meal, you let your brother patch himself up after demanding he showered. The smells of comfort food waft through your nose as things sizzle on the stove and, through the whole process, you don’t think about anything except how upset you are.

They’re all okay. But like Taehyung so abruptly put it, they’re all stupid. 

As you turn off your burner, you transfer everything to a bowl, sighing so loud it seasons the top with fire. When you approach the bar, your actions speak pretty damn loud—the dish clank shoving out a question from your sibling,

“Is there something you wanna say to me?” 

“There’s a bunch of shit I wanna say to you.” 

“It’s about Yoongi,” he asks, the absence of hesitation making your insides squeeze. “Isn’t it.” 

But luckily for you, your rage is so potent that it overruns your fear. As soon as your brother stands up and starts to repeat his question, your correction clangs through the room, 

“It’s about all of you! You say you wanna be there for me but what the fuck will doing this shit do?” 

Freezing, the man waits in shock as you keep going, “Yes, that guy deserves hell. I was so scared when he grabbed me at the club.” You stop to swallow. “But I had them both there and we left.”

Fuck, this is hard. Having to relive that shit is difficult but you need your brother—and all of them, for that matter—to know how hurt you feel right now. Mustering up enough bravery to get to the goddamn point, you finally squeak out, 

“If I lose them? Lose you? Because of something as stupid as a fight?” Your eyes search his, and your heart cracks when you see glassy sheen amongst his bruises. “What would I do then?” 

You expect silence. And silence is what you get. It’s drawn out, loud, and telling. “We know.” 

“Do you?”

“Yes,” he whispers, eyes lifting to meet yours with sincerity. “And we’re sorry.”

Another moment passes between the two of you, the food you made left uneaten on the counter and the rest sitting still on the stove. But you know your sibling will eat it all tonight, whether you’re there or not. 

And you step forward at the same time he holds his battered arms out. 

Freshly showered, he still smells like rain and exertion. But his heart beats under your chest, he’s present, and back home—things you need to stop taking for granted. 

But you’re still mad. And getting things off your chest has only made you tired, so you decide that it’s finally time to go before you circle back to other scary territory brought up tonight. “I’m leaving now,” you announce as you step away. “But just think about that.” 

“I will.”

“I’m serious.” 

“I will.”

Staring, you take note of his cuts and injuries, wondering how the others are faring even though you don’t wanna deal with anything else. Because it hurts too much, and if you see who you’re thinking about, there’s no telling what you’d do if you were like this with your brother. There’s no telling how you’d…

No. You choose to go the easy route this time. Everyone can simmer in their sore, swelling consequences while you have a night of de-stressing with your friends. 

So you leave to go pack without another word. 

It’s raining. 

Hard.

And even though your car is heading to Yuri’s, your heart is beating backwards. Tugging you somewhere else and not letting up. 

With a ping of chill, you can’t shake it. Braking at a stop sign close to your destination, you sit in silence, letting the rain pelt every side of your vehicle and wondering what the hell to do. 

Truthfully? Your brother looked like shit. But your body isn’t telling you to go back to the house, which can only mean one other place. And you know for a fact you don’t wanna talk to him, either. 

So fucking upsetting. They did all that for what? You can barely keep your thoughts in a row because they keep yelling at jostling each other just like everybody did on the court. If anyone had to fight the dipshit, it should've been you. 

Fuck! Your head connects with the wheel, an inner monster rumbling with the thunder because you’re so fed up with everything that happened. 

Your brain is the one yelling. But your heart is begging for it to listen. Go to Yuri’s? Go to Yoongi’s. Find shelter in that warm bed of hers and sink in her plushies to comfort you? 

A sigh. Maybe you can at least call him to tell him off one more time. He needs to hear what you told your brother because if you ever, ever lose him—

Your eyes burn. 

Yoongi: Outgoing Call

No answer.

Yoongi: Outgoing Call

Pick up. What the fuck.

Yoongi: Outgoing Call

…Turn the fuck around shit, shit, shit.

Curses flying, you whip your vehicle in a flash, heart pounding so loud it’s blocking out the storm. Which is morbidly impressive considering how horridly it’s pouring. 

Thinking in leaps, you pivot and make another decision. Tell her and make it all quick. 

Yuri: Outgoing Call

“Hello?”

“Hey, I’m not coming.”

“You okay?”

“I’m going to Yoongi’s.”

“Yoongi’s? Why?”

Ah, shit. Oh, fuck. She doesn’t know. 

Banging the steering wheel, you smash your teeth, stressed as hell from braving the rain in the dark and now snitching on yourself to someone else. 

Damn it. What do you say? What can you possibly even say when you’re so mad and stressed and conflicted and worried—

“Hello?”

“Because he’s the one,” you whoosh out, your vision quivering twice as much as it should. “And things went down after the game and now something feels wrong.”

“Oh, shit. Is that why y’all didn’t come to—”

“Yes.” When you say all this out loud, now it has weight. Horrifying weight on your chest and a block pushing down on the gas. You hear a bit of shuffling on the line, and you’re starting to get so anxious that you blurt, “Please don’t say anything. Please.”

“I won’t. Not about this.”

“Thank you.”

“Hang up, babe. Make it safe.”

“Okay.”

Go, go, go. Please, just get there. 

Letting up, you change your speed, hoping to everything good in the world that this feeling you have is only a feeling and nothing more. 

Yoongi: Outgoing Call

What a strange emotion, wanting his reason for not picking up solely being because he doesn’t wanna talk to you. That is an answer you can deal with. 

But you still can’t fight off the jagged pulses telling you it’s something else. 

After an agonizing drive, you finally see his complex, tensing harder the further and further away you have to park. 

Whipping into a spot, you screech into it before hauling your bag out, popping the trunk and desperately grabbing a plastic box you always keep inside. 

And the mad dash drenches you long before you seek cover, your bones shivering shivering shivering from the chill.

Yoongi has to be home. His car is here. 

But he still won’t pick up the fucking phone.

Skidding at his door, your knocks are rapid, knuckles singed from the ice cold wraps.

Answer, answer, answer. For fuck’s sake, he better answer. 

After a haunting moment of silence, you decide to call one more time, head wet and bones shivering as you press the phone to your damp ear. 

Finally. “Hello.” 

“Open the door,” you jump into commanding, hearing nothing other than a voice that sounds so crushed and low that it crumples you inside. 

“You’re here?” 

“Yeah, let me in.” Fuck, your teeth are clattering against each other, whether it’s from the rain, the cold, or anger, you can’t tell. 

But the reply you get is the coldest thing imaginable. And it sets your whole body aflame. 

“Not tonight.”

Hell no. Hell fucking no Yoongi is not going to get rid of you that easily. Not when you have a boatload of things to say and only one dock to dump them all on, “Yoongi, I swear to god—” 

“Not tonight—”

“—you don’t let me in I’m—”

“Go home—”

“I’m fucking staying out here until you open the goddamn door!”

Oh, you’re pissed. You’re so fucking pissed because this all could’ve been avoided if none of them were stupid. Or prideful. Or whatever the fuck boys decide to be when they can’t let something go. 

And this man still has the audacity to give you the stiff arm, silence on the line before he rasps out another short, “I’m serious.”

“No.”

“Go home.” 

“No!” 

He says your name. So, so softly, before a gut-wrenching, 

“Please.”

Breath shaken, you rest your forehead against chilly wood, hoping it quells the fire you feel rising from your rib cage. 

You can’t give up. Not when you have so much to say. Not when you have to check on him and make sure he’s fine. 

Not when you give into the strongest premonition that you need to be nowhere else but with him tonight. 

You will stay. Stay, stay, stay. Even if he doesn’t want to see you. 

Voice trembling in rage and concern and everything in between, you feel your eyes sear through when they close, mission boiling down to one more desperate choice, 

“…No.” 

You’re cold. And wet. But you will stand out here for as long as it takes him to let you inside—a night, a day, no matter what.

And for a moment. Or a few. You think he’s dead set on making you prove that. 

But you finally, finally, finally hear a sigh before a lock turn, and you try to prepare yourself for what you see but he opens the door and his face comes into view holy shit he looks like a wreck—

“What the fuck,” you grit out as you rush in with vision swimming, digging into your bag for the medkit you hastily stashed and swinging off your sandals because you gotta get something in the—

A hand grips you hard, tugging you back before you even register what’s happening.

As your feet stumble back onto linoleum, your gaze snaps to the ground. 

And your breath cuts like it’s your last. 

Shards. 

Pieces.

Thousands of wood and glass chips litter the entire open area of the living room. 

And realizing where they came from strikes like lightning. 

Fuck. Oh, fuck, what did Yoongi do?

“I told you, doll.”

You choke on a sob.

“Go home.”

Your breaths return before you straighten, tears flowing freely as you don’t know whether to start cleaning up the chaos or finally facing the one who caused it.

No, no, no. Get rid of it. 

Throw it out, all of it, all of it. 

A new fire roars to life, forging your steeling commitment as you wrestle out of Yoongi’s hold.

What did he do, what did he do?

Revving with smoke out of your ears, you burn a path to the kitchen, grabbing a trash bag before marching into the wreckage. Up go the biggest pieces first, chucked into plastic before the smaller ones follow.

Throw it all. This one, this one, and this one.

Yoongi isn’t even wearing shoes. He can cut himself up even more if this all stays where it is. 

Shit, this is everywhere. 

When you realize you’re gonna need a broom, you storm back into his laundry closet to yank one out and keep going. When you go to sweep, the sharpest voice cuts through your fingers.

“Stop.”

Your grit grips the tool even tighter. Because you won’t. Don’t dare look into his expression, either, because you know that one glance will melt every scream on your tongue. So you stay resolute and shoot rejection to the ground, “No.”

“Just go, please.”

“No.”

This hurts. 

This really, really hurts. 

Yoongi has never, ever said these things to you and it feels like a knife jabbing into the same spot over, and over again. You almost prefer three new months of no contact over whatever the hell this is.

But you have to keep going. Eyes clenching, lips wobbling, you must keep going. 

Because you came here for a reason other than this mess. And he’s gonna have to do better than this to kick you back out into the rain. 

“I got it.” 

“Let me do it.” 

“Your brother needs you.”

“Yeah, well, I already tore the fuck into him and I’m gonna do the same to you.” You harden your fist on the sweeper, tugging it more towards your shoulder with finality. And you gather all the energy you need to leave no more room for arguments, because Yoongi is going to listen, “So sit down.”

It hurts.

He wants to say shit. You know he wants to.

But he only breathes hard with eyes closed, following your orders and carrying his dark clouds to the dining room. 

When he finally leaves you alone, this is when you look his way. 

In sweats and a shirt, he appears fine. But with a deep pang, you notice he’s slightly limping. Judging from those knuckles, you wonder if they’re red from the fight or from hitting another wall of his apartment. 

Or from whatever the fuck happened around your feet.

Shit.

While he dumps himself at his table, you clean up the pieces of his rampage, mentally noting that one plan of yours has now changed. 

This one. These, too. A string here. A metal piece there.

You don’t know how long it takes you. All you know is that you’re burning inside, determined to clean everything and sweep this chaotic energy away. 

One more. Two more. Another one here.

As soon as you’re done, you lug the trash bag out of the front door and don’t give a shit what happens to it now.

Keep going. There’s more that you need to take care of.

The fuel inside of you rages on, anger conflicting with anxiety and past worries and sadness for something that didn’t even happen. As you spin, you vow yourself to keep pushing until you can’t anymore. 

Sniffling. Shivering. But staying strong because things could’ve gone a lot worse. 

Yoongi meets you by the table, messy, damp hair shielding his features. “You’ve done enough.” 

“I still need to—” 

“Just.” He looks away. “Go home, doll. I can’t do this tonight.” 

“Do what? I’m helping you.” 

That’s what you do for each other, right? You both help each other. But now you’re not so sure because Yoongi comes back with not an acknowledgement, nor a way of relenting. 

But ice. 

“Who said I needed it?” 

And in all the time you’ve spent with this man, this is the first time you’ve felt downright cold. “Yoongi, what?” Your eyes travel across his face, chest caving in when there’s barely any hints of vitality. “Are you serious?” 

“You think I’m joking?�� 

“You’re kicking me out? What happened to saying you’d never do that, huh?” 

“I say a lot of things.” 

…Oh.

That hurt. That… That physically couldn’t have hurt any harder. 

Nodding, you look away, shaking your head in disbelief because you are on the verge of losing it. “You know what? You do say a lot of things.”

Walking away, you start rearranging pillows on the couch pushed askew. “Like how perfect I am.” Picking up his books from the now non-existent coffee table. “And how there’s no one else.” 

As you give the volumes a new home on his intact tv stand, you turn to face him again. “Those are just words, too, huh?” 

Yoongi kicks his head back with a smile, one that cuts instead of mends. “Nah… Not tonight.” 

“Not tonight what.” 

“We aren’t doing this tonight.” 

“The fuck we aren’t.” It’s his turn to walk away, with a slow head shake that you really don’t like. “Where are you going?” 

“Nowhere.” Yoongi shifts his head to the side, but not enough for you to fully see him. It’s almost as if he doesn’t want you to. “But you’re going home.” 

Something’s off. There’s something completely off but all you feel is sadness and rejection in your ribcage. “So this is how it happens, huh. Now I’m just like everyone else.” 

He finally faces you, miles away even though you’re just rooms apart. “You’re gonna go there?” 

“I am.” 

“Wow.” 

That’s what he comes back with? This is gutting you from the inside out and you have no idea what’s happening but now rage is flaring into your mouth, “You think I wanted to come here? After what all of you did?” 

“Do you even know?” 

“No! But how the fuck would I? You don’t tell me shit!” 

“That’s cus—” 

Your response sears over his floors, “I can take care of myself. But none of you told me about that dude from the court. None of you.” Breath shaken, you continue dumping out all your thoughts and previous concerns, “If I had known? That whole Dalo thing could’ve been avoided and I would’ve ran.” 

For a person that you’ve come to know as so warm, Yoongi’s entire aura freezes you over as you keep talking. “And today? You know how fucking scared I was? If I… I…” 

All he does is stare. Why isn’t he doing anything else? Is he really flipping the switch and choosing to legitimately let you leave this time?

Fine then. 

“You know what?” Giving up, you laugh—harsh, and breathy, and without any joy at all. “Forget it. You’re not even listening anyway.”

“I swear to—I just said not tonight.” 

Frustration from the game, fear from the ambush after, anxiety from not hearing from them. All of it coalesces into something you can’t even control anymore. Your buffer shuts off, the monster you created seizing the reins, “No, I get it. I do! You want me gone. Sure. See you in three more months.” 

Stunned, Yoongi huffs in disbelief, jaw working overtime. “Are you serious?” 

“Yes, I am. Trying to help you but it looks like you don’t even want that. So good fucking bye.” 

And it looks like he has a beast of his own because his next response to your last attempt has you reeling back in shock, 

“Who asked you?” 

Dark liquid drips onto your soul. 

You can only stare, unblinking and feeling like you’re in an entirely different universe. “Who asked me? Who asked me.” 

“That’s what I said.” 

Forget the question of who asked you because… Who are you even talking to? Who is this person standing in front of you because it’s not the Yoongi you know. It’s so jarring and hurtful and strange that you truly feel thrust into the middle of a nightmare. 

You’re gonna do it. You’re actually gonna leave this time. 

“You know what? Kiss my ass, Yoongi.” 

God, it hurts. It hurts. It hurts.

It hurts.

You don’t even know where this is all coming from. All you know is that you’re angry and there’s no stopping the hot magma bubbling in your center. 

Silence fills the room.

And it rains. It pours.

But finally, you hold a sob back before burning a shaky path to his door, wrestling with the lock before yanking it open—

Only to have it shut back in your face, so thrown when you realize you’re getting spun. Air whooshes out of you before your shoulder blades connect with wood—  

And this is the goddamn breaking point. The walls you haphazardly built to keep you upright collapse and tumble. It’s so potent and blinding that you don’t even realize your hands are connecting with his chest in the weakest, saddest ways and you are outright screaming. 

“God, what the fuck! I told you to—We didn’t hear from you for hours and I—I didn’t know if you were okay—” 

“Whoa, hold u—” 

“I thought the worst and I—didn’t even get a chance to—I finally told you want I wanted and you—Fuck—” 

“Just listen—” 

“Don’t ever do that again! I don’t wanna lose you and today was so fucking scary and I’m not, fucking, leaving—” 

Your lips are smashed to hell, his lips bruising so hard you feel it in the back of your skull. And it’s a whole storm as Yoongi pins you against the door, leg wedging between yours and his hands gripping you like a vice. It’s intense. It’s overwhelming. 

“I swear to—” 

You don’t know what to do. What to do what to do what to do, and all your madness jangles as you’re yanked and slammed against another wall, breath leaping into his open mouth before you tug at his hair, digging anger through his shoulders. 

“Can’t fucking listen, can you?” 

“No,” you rip from your throat, shoving him back only to gravitate right back and lock lips again. 

And he rips at your clothes, tearing the front of your shirt so far your chest emerges on full display. Before you can even react to the cuts on his face, Yoongi’s hand clenches around your throat, making you gargle just how you fucking want to right now. 

“Shouldn’t even fucking be here.” 

“When has that ever stopped us.” You groan as you get rapidly led back into something hard, and you realize it’s the dining table digging into your ass. 

“He’s still home.” 

“So?”

“Shouldn’t you—”

“Then kick me out!” you taunt. “For real. Let me go. Fucking do it then.” 

Yoongi works his jaw before gripping tighter, making you groan and your gut flare into something primal. Nostrils flaring, he moves to grip your head hard enough to make your stomach flip but not firm enough to scare you. 

Never to scare you. “You aren’t gonna leave me alone.” 

Your eyes are ice. 

“Are you.” 

You solely watch in determination, breath harsh from your nose and billowing out like steam. Drilling your answer into his eyes, you charge the surrounding air enough to spark like the flashing sky outside. 

And Yoongi cracks like lightning. 

“Goddamn it.” 

Everything happens at once and in quick succession. Teeth grit to hell, Yoongi pulls you upward before fast stepping you to his bedroom, slamming you through the door before you shove him right into his desk. 

Things teeter and shake and clang with each impact, your storm disrupting everything in its path and creating a tornado of desire and thoughts in your brain. 

Something swirls and twists between your souls, tightening and condensing into emotions darker than midnight. And as angry as you are, it’s slipping into a dangerous mania, and you’ve never been this excited for anything in your life. 

“Stubborn.” 

“Coward.” 

Your back stings as you’re pushed back into his door, the wood smacking into the spackle of his wall. Rough lips smother yours as you claw at his shoulders, neck, hair, and you hear him growl into your mouth, 

“Want me to kiss your ass? Suck my dick then we’ll talk.” 

“Fuck you. I give better head than you anyway.” 

His words rival the deepest growl, “Prove it.” 

“Make me.”

Whirlwind. Storm. Tempest. At this point, it’s a whole goddamn high. Your body is thrumming and the only way to feed your anger is to channel it through actions. 

And truth be told, you need this. You both do. With all the high strung emotions that had nowhere to go until you collided?

This is liberation. 

You’re shoved onto your knees before Yoongi dives into his pants, and you’re already hungry and impatient enough to help him shrug his sweats down before he can do it himself. 

“Choke on it,” he commands, holding his dick and watching as you note how hard he already is. When you waste no time taking him in, you elicit the deepest groan you’ve ever pulled from him when you fling spit onto his length. 

Maybe his reaction is to your face. Because you’re still mad as fuck and you aren’t done letting him know that. 

With a passing thought, you realize that this is all new. But you’re welcoming it because it’s working. Only Yoongi can bring out this passion even in anger, or maybe the two of you were going to get to this point no matter what. 

“Fuck.” He steadies the bottom of your chin while you suck him off. “Uh huh. Got anything else to say?” 

You flick him off, and he hums with a rumble, his cock reacting and hitting the back of your prideful throat. 

“Fuck you, too, doll.” His talks devolve into hisses, grunts, moans when you slobber all over yourself, and your cunt is already dripping with your own slick. “There you go. Gonna take it all? Or are you gonna keep running that mouth?” 

And you pop off before taunting, “Find out, pussy.” 

And you’re swallowing him before he shoves you all the way forward, your body arching up in a gag but filled with him him him, your nose flat against his pelvis and his dick squeezing tears from your eyes and your throat overstuffed to hell and there’s no way he’s gonna forget this moment. You’re making damn sure of it. 

Another middle finger raises as you’re tensing around him, and you can barely hear him above you but you do know he’s massively pleased. Tears stream down your eyes when you’re yanked off, gasping for air and being pulled off the ground. 

“Holy fuck.” 

Throat hoarse, you attempt speech but it doesn’t matter anyway, because his lips steal them all. And your cunt is slapped with a whole palm, making you flinch and shoot out a whine into his kiss. 

Before you know it, your body hits the bed before he joins you, arms bulging as he rips your top open completely. You can’t even think straight as he teases your earlier efforts, “I’ve had better.” 

“Oh, you fucking—Shut the fuck up,” you growl, a moan leaving without permission as he palms your cunt again. Just when you think he’s gonna top you, Yoongi hauls you up, hastily leading you around the bed until your back connects with another wall. 

You love that shit. And you’re starting to think Yoongi is very, very aware of this fact. 

“Take those fuckin’ pants off,” he orders. “And hands on the wall before I put them there.” 

“Can’t make me do shit—”

Fingers grip your chin before Yoongi gets right into your face, primal instinct making you go on full alert. As his tongue prods his cheek, your whole lower body quivers. “I can. And I will, if you don’t behave.” Tapping your jaw in a warning, he hums. “Now do what I fucking say.” 

Holy shit, he’s not playing around. Which only heightens your desire to peaks previously unreached, and you’re shucking your bottoms off while he yanks his drawer open for condoms. Hurrying, you fling your clothes away before planting—

Yoongi smashes his whole front against your back—pinning your whole body against the cold, rough wall—before intertwining long fingers with yours. “Good girl.” 

Hitching your hips back, he sticks your ass out as you slip, and you feel his cock tease your entrance. Groaning, you grip your hands into fists as he continues to rub your cunt but never enter. Denying, denying, denying. Smacking your pussy and still not letting you feel him inside. 

And it’s maddening. “Please!” 

“Please what,” he asks, giving your ass a spank that has you flinching into the wall. 

And, without any shred of mercy, this goes on for longer than he’s ever held out. It’s so sickening that tears start flowing from your eyes, and you devolve into saying anything to get him to fuck your brains out. Between spanks on your ass, slaps on your tits, and aggravating kisses on your back, Yoongi doesn’t let you phase him for minutes. 

It’s when you choke on a sob that he finally, finally squeezes inside of you, checking for your nod before wrecking you completely. 

“Oh, fuck—” Your eyes shut tight as you try to keep yourself upright, hands pushing against the wall as your legs shift with every thrust. 

“This ass. Fuck.” Yoongi’s pace is relentless, hands bruising your hips and your cheeks smacking into his pelvis over and over and over. “It’s a goddamn problem.” 

You’re trying so hard. So, so hard to stay on the wall. But your hands are too sweaty; they're starting to slip with each attempt. “Bed,” you command. “Bed now.” 

And he obliges immediately, pulling out and yanking you back. Mouth to your ear, he both checks in while making your legs jelly, “You tapping out?” 

“Break my fucking back,” you rasp in return, hearing him growl in satisfaction before burying you facedown into his bed. As he plunges inside again, you grip at his sheets, driven to the brink and reveling in all the things he’s saying to you while feeling him in your stomach. 

Suddenly, you feel your arms pulled back, and you yell into his mattress as he buries himself even deeper. Everything you’re screaming makes no sense, but the phenomenal sensation you feel as you go limp renders you speechless anyway. 

Yoongi knows exactly what he’s doing as he pushes his thumb into your asshole, because you clench so hard around him that he chuckles darker than dark. Careening into space, you kiss the edge of euphoria before he inconveniently pulls out, launching a sling of insults from your mouth. 

“What was that?” 

“I said fuck you!” 

“Thought so.” 

Not done in the slightest, Yoongi hauls your thighs so flush against him that you have to use your fingertips for support. Just as you’re about to argue, he rams into you from a new and impossibly enticing angle and holy fuck it feels so good you want to weep.

“Put that fucking hand down,” he growls, smacking away the fingers you didn’t even know were on your mouth. “If you wanna talk shit.” 

“Fuck—!” 

“Uh huh. Let it out, baby girl.”

You’ve never felt this out of control. This wild. This out of body. Your head is yanked back, your back pressing into the front of his shirt before you feel him so far into your guts that you quiver. 

Now at the mercy of his tongue in close range, you hear his gravelly tone in your ear, “What’s my fuckin’ name.” 

“Asshole—” 

A hard smack to your tits has you crumpling with a whine. “Say it.” 

“I’ll say it if I wanna say it—” 

Another spank to your inner thigh and you’re gone. Eyes roll as he tweaks your nipple, and your words are almost garbled when he grips your chin from behind. “This what we’re doing? Hmm?” 

You laugh breathy before you taunt, “Uh huh.” 

“Mm…” Despite your laugh, you shake. “I wouldn’t do that, doll.” 

“Make me. Bet you can’t.” 

Tensed and veins angry, Yoongi grips both your tits before snarling, “That’s enough.” 

Swiftly, he shoves you down into the sheets, muscular frame pinning you as he strokes up into you just right. Again. Again. It’s all too slow and too effective and you’re trying to stay mad but all you can feel is perfection, your back arching at his thrusts and mewling at his low growls in your ear. 

“You wanted this.” Another thrust. “Talking shit.” Your jaw goes slack. “Pissing me off.” 

Your groan is downright erotic. Why why why? Just knowing you’re making him this mad flutters your cunt and, from the sinister chuckle shooting into your neck, Yoongi definitely felt that. 

“Fuckin’ thought so.” 

When he reaches to grab your breasts, the last thrust has you crying out in a flurry of pleasure. 

Every single thought is Yoongi, from beginning to end in a biblical cycle of debauchery. Exertion leaves you slick, sweat coating the expanse of your skin only to press into his bed, your mess your mess your mess. At his hands. The smacks of his cock. The rolls of his hips. Are you gone? Are you here? If he’s bruised then you feel like you are, too, and you welcome the temporary pain as Yoongi’s fingers dig ever deeper into your waist fuck one’s now pinning your head down. 

The moans you let out are unending, and your thighs shake when all you get in response is a laugh of condescension. 

“Look at you. Can’t even stay mad.” 

“Fuck you!” You’re close, you’re close, you’re close again. Release is at your fingertips, but Yoongi yanks himself out to rip it away from your outstretched fingers. “No!” 

“What, doll.” 

“Please!” 

“Nah.” 

Body sore, you’re flipped over with no mercy as something else presses against your cunt. 

Fucking hell, he’s eating you out now? Shaking, you feel Yoongi’s tongue swirl around your thrumming clit before he sucks, edging you to the point of tears and heartbreak. And it proves too much as you grab at his head, yank at his hair, because he lets up when you’re close. 

Every. Single. Time. 

Your madness spirals into your curses, and he relishes in your despair, continuing to lick and suck and slap your thighs with patience. “What do you say?” 

“Please!” 

“Mm. Not loud enough.” 

“Yoongi, please.” 

“Oh, we’re saying names now?” 

Fuck, fuck, fuck, it aches. It’s starting to borderline hurt. “I’ll be good,” you barter, beg, plead with a head spinning off its own axis. “I’ll do anything.” 

“Do it yourself then.” 

Later, when you look back on tonight, you’ll be embarrassed and shy to hell. But right now, you’re so over any shyness that you don’t hesitate, reaching down to rub at your clit and moaning when it’s so sensitive.

And Yoongi gets a front row seat. 

His groan is gutteral. And it doesn’t take you long to quicken your pace, bucking your hips and whining to the ceiling. You’re so so so close it’s right there—

Your hand is smacked away. And after you try to wrestle out of his grip, you are a flat out, blubbering mess. “Yoongi… Please…” 

“Nah.” 

This is torture. And you’re frightened at how much you’re enjoying it. “I’m so close.” 

“You’ll come when I say you can.” 

“Please! …Please..”

“You done being a brat?” 

“No! Fuck. Yes!” If you weren’t so far gone, you may have deciphered a tiny smile of amusement. But it won’t be for months later until you’ll realize that you were wrong. 

Because the menacing flash of teeth you see is much too wide to be anything other than pride. “The fuck did I say? Use your words.” 

You know you’re still upset. You know Yoongi is still upset. But for some reason, you feel closer to him than you have in awhile, and you wonder if lust and madness are two sides of the same coin. “Let me come. Please.” 

Yoongi finally obliges with something he hadn’t pleasured you with yet. And your vision blanks as you yelp at the sensation, his slick fingers pistoning into your folds so fast you’re arching so taut. From between your quivering legs, you hear one final command, 

“Then fucking come.” 

And you burst, so hard you almost feel like something threatens to spew from your cunt. But all you can do is shake and thrash under his grip, so erratic that you feel like Yoongi’s starting to pin you down. Gone, gone, gone, you’re sure the veins of your neck threaten to break through your sweaty skin. 

Then you feel his cock thrust inside of you, and you whip your head forward only to get your airway cut off. “Again,” he calmly repeats, flinging you back to the last time this happened. 

Only this time, there’s even less room for you to make any other choice. 

“I said again.” 

Your body cannot fathom disobedience, pulsing and milking his perfect fit. Over, and over, and over. You hear rumbling from a dragon above, feel breaths of steam whooshing as it watches you come undone. 

“Yoongi—” 

A light slap to your cheek is your only warning before your chin is tugged, lips smushing into yours to swallow your straining sobs. Fuck, fuck, fuck, your body is still thrumming, inundating around his cock until your emotions spill from your core. Toes. Fingers. Everything is straining and locking in place. 

“So fucking hot.” He rips your soul right out. “Shit.” 

You fly through time and space, gathering emotions and feelings and spiraling spiraling spiraling. Crying. You’re crying. Full on crying you’re so overwhelmed with everything truly you were so mean to him you upset him holy fuck you should’ve left when he told you to—

“Baby.” 

But you cannot stop crying, choke choke gasping on sobs. 

“Babe.” 

“I—I—” 

Your name stabs you with a crisp shot, coupled with a firm grip on your chin, snapping you back to lucid. And Yoongi’s eyes are frantically searching your own. “Look at me.” 

You do. Do you? You do. And his eyes… 

They’re not angry at all. It’s pure concern. Steadfast concentration. And something reflecting your soul. “Breathe.” 

“Oh, shit,” you whisper, coughing and reaching for oxygen you didn’t know you were denying. Air rushes back into your lungs as you inhale. 

“There you go. Keep going.” 

You do, gulping down air and hiccuping a breath or two. Your cheek is being caressed, you think. And with another pass, you know it is. 

“Relax for me.” And you hiccup a sob. “Breathe, babe.” 

You do, you do, you do. Yoongi kisses your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, and you breathe more and more through it all. “You with me?” 

“Always,” you answer, filter off because you are hanging by a thread and he’s holding the top. “Please don’t kick me out ever,” you hiccup. “Please, baby, I’ll do anything for you but I—could—never handle that—” 

You’re tenderly hushed before lips slide over yours, attempting to swallow your thoughts and your sobs and your oncoming tears. As you flood his bed with apologies, Yoongi keeps wiping them all.

“I’m sorry.” 

“Nothing to be sorry for.” 

“I’m really sorry.” 

“Babe.” 

“You told me so many times—” 

“Breathe, angel.” 

You blink at the change in name, and it makes you focus just a bit stronger. Floating down from the precipice. 

“I wasn’t kicking you out,” he slowly explains, kissing sweat from your forehead. His words feel like a calm, rock-filled river over your eyes. “I felt like an idiot and hated you seeing me like this.” 

“Like what?” 

“Just… Like this.” 

“You’re perfect like this,” you hitch out, not caring about what flows out of your mouth. “So perfect. Always to me. I just wanted to help you, baby, I’m so sorry—” 

He hugs you so tight more tears squeeze out. 

And so do more confessions, “I… I care about you. I think a little too much. If I lost you, I wouldn’t—be able—” 

“I’m here.” 

“So please don’t push me away.” 

“I won’t.” 

“I know you don’t make promises but—” 

“I promise.” Without an ounce of doubt, Yoongi places a firm, lingering kiss on your temple. “Promise. Fuck.” As he holds you tight, you feel him shake before you hear the tiniest sniff at your ear. 

Oh. He doesn’t need to be like this, too. You try to move your hand up between your bodies to comfort him, but your whole limb feels gelatinous. So you simply whisper, “It’s okay, baby.” 

You can’t tell how long you lie like this, with his beautiful weight on yours. But time is irrelevant when your mind is unwinding from hours of whirring, starting to finally accept the fact that everyone is okay and you don’t have to be angry anymore. 

“Come on,” Yoongi rasps, voice cracked and airy. “Let’s go.” 

“Hmm?” 

“Shower.” 

“Oh. Okay.” 

You’re so thrown and dizzy from what just happened that even getting to the bathroom is a blur. What you kinda feel is Yoongi holding you upright when your legs buckle, but you don’t remember when he leaves your side to turn the water on. 

As he flips on the light, your eyes squeeze until they adjust, and you watch as he tests the water while fully clothed. Air conditioning starts to give you a chill, but the shower warms up just in time because he reaches out to guide you inside. 

Wait. Is he not joining you? Bleary, you grab at his shirt when he steps away, eyes pleading. “Are you coming in, too?” 

Yoongi stops before he gives a shake of his head. “I’ll take mine when you’re done,” he says through a slight smile. “We’ll take care of you first.” 

That doesn’t make sense. Even in your depleting haze, you know something doesn’t add up. “You can join me now. I don’t mind.” When you try to lift his shirt, Yoongi visibly flinches when you brush over his ribs.

And all the murk around your head vanishes in a snap. 

He kept his shirt on that whole time. Not once did your positions allow you to see his upper body fully. And now he’s not gonna get in the shower or take his shirt off? 

Your voice lowers two octaves when you reach full clarity. “Let me see.” 

Unblinking, Yoongi tries to back away, “Don’t worry—” 

“Let me see it, baby,” you command, breath cut until he finally allows you to lift his shirt up holy fuck those injuries look so painful tears prick your eyes. “Oh, my god, Yoongi—” 

“I’m fine.” 

“You’re hurt.” You feel these wounds deep in your ribs, and you tell him to get your kit what the hell he fucked you while feeling those? 

Attempting to alleviate your stress, Yoongi decides to strip fully and step into the shower, ignoring your pleas to grab your med kit and promising you can take care of him when you’re done washing up. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, doll.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Promise.” 

And when his arms wrap around you, this is when you finally let go. Huge, chest-wracking sobs echo around tile, and Yoongi stays quiet through your cathartic release. 

There’s another reason you were so upset. And it has nothing to do with any of them, but with yourself. The main reason you’ve been so riled up and frustrated is because… This is technically your fault, too. 

But, unsurprisingly, he won’t let you take any blame whatsoever. 

“You got hurt cus I said to play.” 

“Nope.” 

“I wore the outfit that day.” 

“Doesn’t matter.” 

“And lost my friends at the club.” 

“No.” 

Sniffling in quick succession, you think about one other option. Some form of closure that can double as compromise. Voice soft, you suggest the last resort you have, 

“How about we share it.” 

Yoongi blinks twice before he clarifies, “You wanna share the blame?” When you nod, he huffs through the tiniest smile of confusion. “Mm. Then it’s our fault.” 

“Okay.” 

After shaking his head, he closes his eyes, molding his forehead with yours. “What are you doing to me.” 

A sniffle. “Wrecking your water bill.” 

His laughs join yours as you barely get your sentence out before giggling, and to feel him so close and present and here makes your worries slink down the drain. 

Hands trace down your arms, walking along falling rivers before creating ponds with your fingers intertwined. “Gonna clear me out someday.” 

“Duh.” 

He’s himself again. 

And after a whole night of chaos, you feel like yourself again, too. 

That’s all you both need to feel peace. 

-

-

You keep that tranquility carrying you through his room, peeking into his closet to grab the biggest shirt and sweats you can find before drying your head. 

But no matter how much water you can dry, your body will keep being washed in relief. And it’s the calmest feeling, watching as Yoongi does the simplest things near his bed. 

Your lips curve when he pulls up his pants; your heart beats when he grabs a tee. It’s in this moment that you admit that these outfits of his are your favorites, and you gravitate to him as he slips cotton over his damp head. 

“Come on,” you softly offer as you turn. “I’ll make food and get you some ice.”

Again, Yoongi just stares with a faint smile. But his eyes are alive again, so you’re more than fine if he just follows your lead without a word.

In the kitchen, you pause amongst the appliances, the cabinets watching as you utilize your phone to find a good recipe. “What shall we eat… Stew? Or, wait—” 

Looking up, you eye him in thought before choosing to focus on something else. “Actually, let’s figure you out first.” 

Opening yet another tab to add to your hundreds, you type away before selecting a good starting point. “Okay, let’s see. You’re breathing fine, so no bruised ribs. Umm…” 

Scroll, scroll. 

“It looks really bad there, though. You sure you can move right?” 

Despite asking, you go right back to your phone before Yoongi can even respond. Scrolling and clicking and reading again. 

Scroll, scroll. 

“Okay, so no bruised ribs, and according to this you don’t have any broken bones. And nothing fractured, either, thank god—”

“I love you.” 

Time bursts.

Your chest glows. 

Everything starts to beat, beat, beat in slow motion. 

And you don’t even feel like you’re in the room anymore. “…What?” 

You need to hear it again. You need to need to need to, because if you heard him wrong, you will check yourself and bolt right out the door. 

His eyes. 

Despite the battlefield on his skin, they are dripping, and sparkling, and full. The whole world suspends as he stares right into your soul, caressing it with his wounded hands and cradling it in his bruised arms. 

No matter how hard the moon will try—for years, and years, and years more—it will never outshine this single, shaken, solidified admittance. 

“I love you, doll.”

You don’t know what to do. You don’t know what to fucking do. 

Why is Yoongi saying this now? Why is he choosing now of all times to make you the happiest person in the universe? 

No. 

Happiness isn’t even close to what you feel and you’re pretty sure you’re crying but nothing makes sense and your vision plunges under sunlit waters. 

“And you don’t have to say anything. I know I don’t deserve to.” 

What?

“I can’t be everything you want. Or need. Or whatever the fuck I’m trying to say. But I just needed you to know because I can’t fucking fight this shit anymore—” 

You lunge forward before he offers his last syllable, careful to avoid his wounds and not mush his face because he would do the same for you. 

And it’s all too much tonight. The lingering fear, the dying anger, the floods of relief, the joy. You can’t stop your sobs from coming out in bursts, your whole body wracking with overwhelming emotion as he grits into your skin,

“Goddamn it, I—”

“Yoongi—”

“—so fucking much.”

Yoongi loves you. He’s here. He loves you, loves you, loves you and the beats of your heart pulse orange and blue, blue, blue. 

Nothing will ever compare to this moment. Nothing. You will bottle this one up in a jar to place next to all the others you have stored, and when you are lonely, or hurt, or even when you’re doing just fine, you will uncork it to surround yourself with this memory and know that everything will be okay. 

He loves you. 

Fuck, he loves you? 

You choke out his name with a sob, and he squeezes you even harder. When you can’t reply with anything else, he buries his face in the crook of your shoulder, his tears taking root and blossoming into beautiful vibrant fruit all along your rib cage.

He loves you.

Why can’t you seem to say it back? What the fuck is wrong with your tongue?

Maybe it’s because saying it doesn’t feel like enough. Like it’s laughable that there are words for this feeling because they don’t nearly represent what you harbor in your very being for this man. 

There’s no way any words are enough. Not for him. Nor for you. Because right now, Yoongi needs something more. And you’re going to give him more than everything. 

“Yoongi, I—”

He captures your lips in his, and you let him push you against his counter and consume you everywhere he wants to. Between his claims, your sobs have room to breathe. Which makes for a horrible showing of your attempting to say what you want to. “I… I can’t… Yoongi—”

Fingers press into the back of your head, a forehead smushing into yours and shutting you up completely. “I’m sorry,” he says, words rolling down the tracks your tears have walked. “I won’t ever be able to say that enough.” 

“Baby,” you hiccup, resting a hand over one of his. “It’s okay.” 

“It’s not.”

“It is.” You squeeze his hand, feeling the lovely digs of his knuckles in your palm. His scent wafts around you like an embrace, and you know there’s nothing quite like it. At all. “You’re okay, so I’m okay.” 

After he plants a warm kiss on your temple, you feel his hands ball into fists at your ears. “I just—fuck.” 

There’s no telling what he’s thinking about in that brain of his. But you need him to know that there’s nothing more for him to be sorry for. All you care about is that he’s present, responding, and himself. 

“Babe,” you whisper, still not believing those three words coming out of his mouth. “I’m here.” 

“I know.” He sighs, smushing into your lips and holding you so tenderly, yet so tight. As he laps at your tongue, you’re more than sure he can taste your rainfall. 

None of this is real. Because you can’t believe it at all. Even as Yoongi continues his journey across your neck, your shoulders, your jaw, your face, you still can’t piece together that this is truly happening.

When you feel him hard on your pelvis, you remember that he didn’t get the same release you got earlier. But you’re not gonna be the one to suggest going again, all of this will be what he decides. 

And what Yoongi decides is to pull you closer, breathing you in while you do the same. His kisses are never ending, and your hands roam languidly along his shoulders, his hair, stretching across the expanse of his back. One that has held the weight of the world and then some.

His name leaves your mouth in a sigh, your back arching as softly as the kisses being planted along your breasts. 

“If you only knew,” he whispers, laughing to himself as he wraps an arm around your side.

“Knew what?”

“Nothing, babe.” You gasp into his next rough press to your lips. “You’re so—fuck.”

You said you’d let him lead. But as Yoongi starts to walk you into his bedroom again, you think about his injuries and feel more concerned after knowing they’re there. So you quietly stop him as you reach his bed, “Are you sure?” 

“I’ll be alright, doll,” he whispers, lowering you down and smiling so tranquilly your heart lurches. “As much as I think you enjoyed the first time, this time will be better.” 

Giggling, you fight the heat from searing your cheeks as you smile. “You enjoyed it more than I did, I think.” 

“I don’t think so.” Yoongi smirks, getting up. “Lemme get a cond—” 

“It’s okay,” you halt him with a hand, and he freezes. 

Full stop. No movement. Not even a breath. “...What?” 

“We don’t…” You swallow, stomach fluttering at his expression. “We don’t have to this time.” 

Because Yoongi’s eyes have not left your face. “You sure?” 

Then something causes you to smile. Knowing that if there’s anyone you want to do this with, it’s this man right here and now. There’s genuinely no one else in the world with whom you would wanna share this experience, and the fact that he’s still asking makes you emotional.

Cradling his face with the most tender touch you can imagine, you confirm, “Just for a little bit.” And you add something you think he needs to keep hearing. “I trust you.” 

Gulping down any extra emotions spilling from your heart’s chalice, your words come out a little wobbled. “And I want to, if you want it, too.” 

“I want what you want, doll.” 

“Then it’s okay.”  

Clothes on or off, you still feel so shy underneath him. 

But this time, you vow to shove those feelings of unworthiness to the side. Because you are fully invested in this moment above all others. And Yoongi deserves more than you can give. 

When he slowly tugs his sweats from your legs, you’re already choking back tears. As he climbs on top, you await the connection you never in your dreams would’ve imagined. 

And when Yoongi stares at you one more time, you know exactly what he’s asking. 

“Yes, my love,” you wisp into his skin, craning up to kiss him and swallowing his last slice of doubt. Knowing you’ll say it again and again and again. 

His brows pinch as he kisses you—slow, purposeful, understanding. Then he positions himself, and you can physically feel his hand brush your cunt as he does so. If he ever asks if you felt him shake, you will deny it. But only for a year or two. 

As soon as you feel him—only him, solely him—you swell with a current of emotion. And it pulls you all the way under when he’s fully sheathed inside. 

“Holy fucking shit.” 

“Yoongi—” 

“Fuck.” 

Simply having him inside, with no barriers or obstacles in between? You’re already close. There’s no early explanation, but you already feel overwhelmed enough to come. 

No no no. You want this to last forever, so you wait for Yoongi to gather himself because he appears to be fighting, too. 

Chuckling, you ask, “You good, baby?” 

And your lover snaps his gaze to your face, bangs sweeping across your cheeks and eyes unblinking. “Yeah, just...” He stares at your inquisitive expression before whooshing out a harsh breath. “Just this is about to make me bust.” 

You burst into laughter before admitting you were just thinking the same thing, and his slow grin makes you want to cry. “We’re not good at this.” 

“No. You’re too good at this. I can’t even move.” 

“Yes, you can,” you whine. “You wreck my shit all the time.” 

Feeling a twitch more prominent than ever, you giggle as Yoongi puffs out pained amusement. “Doll, if you keep talking like that, I’m pulling out.” 

“Okay, okay,” you surrender, loving how out of sorts he seems. He’s fighting for his life and you’re enjoying the hell out of it. 

“You’re a little too perfect right now.”

Maybe one day you will agree with him. But that day is far from reach, your head shaking in quiet disagreement.

“You are.”

“Nowhere close,” you whisper.

His nose brushes against yours. “Say that again and see what happens.”

“Is that what you tell all the others fuck!”

His shove up your cunt makes you see stars. “What did I fuckin’ say?” 

“What—”

Another launch has you careening through space, lip bitten and suppressing a hearty whine. “You think there’s someone else?” Again. “Hmm?” 

Again. 

You’re so dazed and mind-fucked to pieces that your speech is barely audible. But your chin is grabbed as you’re snapped straight, and your eyes try their hardest to focus on slitted ones above. “You’re gonna regret saying that.” 

You just laugh, whine pinging sharp into the ceiling as he shoves forward so hard your whole body shifts upward. “Oh, yeah?” 

Yoongi doesn’t respond with words, thrusting up again and sending you twisting and winding towards the edge unbelievably fast. “Uh huh.” 

“Make me then,” you gasp out. “Make me really sorry.” 

The sound Yoongi makes comes from deep within his stomach, the rumbling hum shooting right into your veins like liquid fire. 

And the full-on attack he bursts into renders you completely speechless. Everything Yoongi does pulls you deliciously in all directions—his thrusts, his chain hitting his chest, his grip on your wrists, the way he snags your chin. Everything. 

“Taking me so well like this.” 

“I—”

“So fucking tight.”

Fuck fuck fuck it’s habitual for you at this point, and you unhinge your jaw a split second before he smacks the side of your face. Desire lowers your lids halfway as you feel empowered, and you don’t even recognize your voice as you order him on the spot. “Do it again.” 

Yoongi doesn’t stop his pace as he keeps his eyes on you. 

“Do it again,” you growl, fully limp and a groaning mess when he does exactly what you want. 

Fuck, the pain feels good. So good that you reach up and choke him out. But the back of your head is grabbed before you feel hungry lips smash into yours. You feel your wrists pinned again by one large palm, air chilling for a moment before a hot mouth captures one of your nipples. “Oh, fuck, Yoongi!” 

“Uh uh.” 

“Please—please—” 

You’re still tensing as he devours your chest below his shirt, strokes now slower but just as powerful. 

Your arms still haven’t been freed, but there’s something about being under his control that has you loving this position. Without question. Maybe it’s the fact that you can see him now, losing himself just as he saw you washes in the throes of passion. 

And he licks, sucks, lolls his tongue all over your tits, whispered praises sinking through your bosom as he keeps a grip on your wrists. 

“Baby,” you gasp. “I’m close, I’m—” 

“Shit.” Air whooshes over you before you feel your arms freed and him yank himself out, and you freeze as he unloads right on your stomach, a sharp cocktail of pride and shock in your gut. 

Holy fuck, Yoongi was that close? Did he hold out as long as he could? Shit, he’s breathing so hard his jewelry shakes as it dangles. 

You’re still so surprised that your arms are still locked into bends, and he glances up at you from his kneeled state. “Fuck,” he laughs, and is that… Is Yoongi shy? “Thought I could hold out.” 

“No, no, it’s fine,” you assure through your own tiny chuckle. “Oh my god, I promise.” 

He leans down to plant a heart fluttering kiss on your lips, but you hate how he looks pained on the way down. 

Those hits he took… Now you kinda understand his perspective. Because now you want to avenge him in five hundred thousand ways—almost half as many ways as you want to show him how you feel. 

“Stay there, beautiful,” Yoongi orders as he moves to get off the bed, wincing in passes. “I’m not done with you.” 

Damn. He looks even more exhausted than before. “Baby, are you sure?” 

But Yoongi walks right to his bathroom to retrieve a towel, and your eyes may as well transform into hearts when you watch him come back to you. So handsome, even now. Even when he’s simply holding a washcloth, hair completely mussed, soul sparkling and face bruised. 

As he sits to clean your face before moving to your stomach, you can only observe his eyes. So experienced. Calm. At peace. When they drift to yours, it’s instinct that has you shying away. “What, love.” 

Another reason to crumble inside. “I just… nothing,” you whisper. 

And Yoongi finishes with the cloth before tossing it somewhere. “Tell me,” he says, lying down on the ribs with more damage. “I wanna know.” 

“Come on this side,” you tell him, and he obliges without a word. “It’s a secret.” 

“A secret?” 

“Mmhmm.” 

Yoongi settles before lifting your chin, rubbing an affectionate thumb over any tears still persevering on your cheeks. “I can keep those, you know.” 

Smiling, you fold way too easily. “Okay, I’ll tell.” 

When he leans in, your nervousness and excitement to tell him almost spoils your ability to do so. Like someone gifting a present while wanting to say what it is before it’s even opened. 

“I love you, too,” you whisper, tears sprinting to your ducts as Yoongi freezes. When he looks at you, you can’t help but choke on a sob seeing his eyes get as red as the marks on his cheek. “And you deserve more than I could ever give.” 

His eyes hold the heavens and the seas. 

You’re right. Just saying it isn’t fucking enough.

You’re already liplocked again before you can think, saltwater on your face and you don’t even know whose eyes it came from.

Determined, Yoongi starts kissing a trail from your lips to your jaw, and you start to cry as he makes his own journey down the expanse of you. 

All of you.

Is this what it feels like? Is all of this actually, genuinely real?

You hope so, because you feel devotion in each press of his lips, and every touch will be remembered in its own right. Its own pocket of time.

Every single stop.

It almost feels divine when his mouth reaches your folds, lapping at your essence and swirling around your clit. When you say his name, Yoongi says nothing, instead palming your thighs and eating you out like he has all the time in the world. 

Swelling, you already feel close. 

But the way he gets you to fantasia is so natural that you slide into your quivers seemlessly. The transition into your heaven flows like a stream, and your waves engulf his tongue and coat his mouth without trouble. 

This is what it feels like. What it feels like with Yoongi. 

And you wanna keep making love until only sleep can take you from him.

Your hands jut into his hair, gasping as he keeps his pace, and no matter how you squirm he is dead set on holding you down until holy fuck you’re coming again. 

How? What’s happening to you? This constant stream of release is shocking you to the point of crying out, and Yoongi groans into your orgasm and prolongs it with the whole press of his tongue.

“Holy fuck, baby—!” Another wave overcomes the next, and you outright quake in his hands, eyes rolling and vision blinking white. Muscles lock as you can’t keep up with the pleasure, and you’re mercilessly let go only for lips to descend on yours.

Your tears spill into your ears as you kiss him back, wrapping tired arms over his shoulders and raking in deep. 

“Fuck.” And you feel his cock lodge against your entrance, and you’re amazed how hard he is again. 

Does he want what you want? Is he ready again? 

As Yoongi quietly gets up to get a condom, you’re amazed that he wants to keep going after everything that’s transpired. But, if he feels like you do, he’s ready to keep going until the sun comes up three whole times. 

When he sits next to you, your better half appears shy as he bites the wrapper. “Don’t take this the wrong way.”

“Oh, I already know.”

“K. But god, I fuckin’ want to.”

You bite your lip to hold back your smile, remembering what he said a long time ago and bringing it back full circle for the next thing you both wanna try. “One day.”

Yoongi only grins. 

And for the next hour, your lover, your secret, your home gives you everything he has, and you come for him more times than you ever have in your life.

Every time, he drags your pleasure out, expertly tearing you down with his movements and building your confidence up with his words. He tells you you’re perfect, and he disagrees when you disagree. When you find tears on your face, he kisses those away, too. When you feel along his silver, he simply watches you in silence. 

No sadness, doubt, nor anger to be found. 

After you physically can’t do any more, Yoongi lies at your side, silent as you play with his hair. You do your best to stay still, not wanting to accidentally push into any of his injuries that you’re gonna beg him to get checked in the morning. 

Once he’s healed? That’s when you’ll never let go. Because you want to crush him into you completely. Mold into him, just so he can feel the brevity of your highest affection. 

“I’m sorry for yelling,” you finally whisper. “But I really was so mad at you. All of you.” 

“I know.” 

“I don’t wanna lose you.”

“It won’t happen again.” 

“That’s what you said last time.” 

Yoongi stares, seeming to withhold something from you before he palms your cheek. “They were gonna follow us home if we didn’t, babe,” he reveals, snapping your heart back in two. “We all knew that.” 

“Oh, fuck.” Everything hits you at once: why they stayed, why you and Taehyung had to leave. Why Tae didn’t bring you straight back to the house. And the burns at your eyes match the searing in your gut. “I didn’t… I didn’t think about that.” 

When you start to cry, Yoongi sits up and hangs his head between his sweats. “You don’t need to think about shit like that,” he murmurs, sounding defeated as ever. “But we talked after you told us off. We won’t hide that from you anymore.” 

Sniffling, you whisper out a thank you. But you don’t want Yoongi to feel like he has to distance himself, so you untangle him—slowly, gently–-before bringing him into your chest. 

After dealing with all that and the tempest in his living room, this man still let you in. From the looks of things, there’s a lot that he had been fighting, and you’re more than appreciative that he opened his door. Not knowing how to put these feelings into words, you say the first things that come to mind. And for some reason, they feel heavier on the way out, 

“Thank you for letting me in. It was raining really hard.” 

Yoongi stiffens hard before holding you closer. 

“Babe?”

No response. Just another batch of weighted quiet. 

Worried, you tilt your head. “Hey. Look at me.”

If he stays right where he is, you’ll have to respect that decision. But he ends up pushing himself up, and as soon as you see moonlight catch on a falling tear, all your instincts reach for him, “Oh, fuck, come here.”

You surround him with everything you have, wanting every single bit of warmth birthed from his love to fill his space instead of yours. Whatever he needs, you will give. “It’s okay, baby,” you whisper, holding him so close but not nearly close enough. 

Never close enough.

His face is buried in the crook of your neck, and you will let him live there whenever he needs to. “I’m not mad anymore, okay?” God, you hate how he’s still so silent. You get it, but you hate whatever made him default to this state. “I’m just glad you’re alright.”

After light rain fills the room, your soul breaks at a sniffle, and you crush your love even tighter.

“This isn’t about that, doll,” Yoongi finally whispers, burying wet eyes further into your shoulder. “It’s just…”

It’s what? What’s he thinking about? Hopefully it’s not anything—

“It’s so fucking better when you’re here.” 

When you choke out a sob, his body locks, words pouring from nowhere and everywhere. “I sleep better. Eat better. Fuck, I even feel better even if nothing else changes.”

“Yoongi…”

“It’s true.” Sighing, he sniffles again before letting his weight drop onto you in resignation. Or relief. “I mean that.”

“Then… Those three months…”

“One day, I’ll tell you everything,” he offers, making you wonder what the hell he’s been through in the past. And if it has something to do with that guitar he smashed to pieces. “But from now on, you can be here whatever you want.” 

Many things have shifted tonight. As if an earthquake had upturned everything between the both of you, only peace has settled in its wake. A peace you had never felt before. As you brush fingers through his hair, you joke, “So I can come to those parties you host, too?” 

“Those weren’t my idea, by the way. Jimin made me.” Kissing your shoulder, Yoongi continues to admit, “He was worried. And hoping you would show.”

Oh. That’s news to you. 

“I knew you wouldn’t. But.” He exhales before nestling in further. “I did hope to see you, too.” 

“It’s okay.” You rub the back of his neck, your fingers feeling nothing but warmth and the softness of his clothes. “It would’ve been too obvious.”

“What would’ve.”

“That I wanted you all to myself.”

“You already have that.”

When you stiffen, your words are tiny. “You know what I mean.”

Yoongi laughs soft, taking one of your hands in his and bringing it up for a kiss as you blurt, “My brother was the one that invited me. To come to those, I mean.”

The way he blinks is comical. “Huh.”

“I know.” It’s your turn to bring his hand close, kissing along his knuckles before you stare out the window behind him. “It makes me wonder if he knows.”

“What if he does?”

You snap your eyes right to his. “Does he?”

Yoongi watches your lips linger on his fingers before he tells the truth, “No.”

“Okay. But you’re sure I can stay?” 

“Who do you think you bought those groceries for?” 

Oh. Wait. “What?” 

Grinning so sly, Yoongi reveals the plan he had all along, “I get you for a week, right?”

Oh. Holy shit. You cannot quite possibly deal with what this man is saying. That whole time you were shopping for his list… No wonder he was already done with dinner when you got there oh you’re gonna get him back for that. 

Light bursts from your center as you grit out through a grin, “You sneaky little—” Pulling his tilted mouth in for another kiss, your heart pulses little pink stars as he leans in with a laugh, and you meet lips again and again until he slowly, reluctantly stops. 

“One day,” he murmurs out of nowhere, and you flick your eyes to his. “I’ll be better.”

Of course he will. You have no doubts. But, just like he always does for you, you’re gonna start offering the same reassurance out loud, even if he knows it’s there. 

And you can’t contain your little laughs at your own joke, despite him just staring into your face right after you crack it, “Don’t make it just one day, silly.” 

Even if you’re very serious, it’s in your nature to lighten things up. Especially after hearing such wonderful news for what’s coming. Clutching a little bit of his shirt, you whisper with complete devotion, 

“We’ll make it as many as we can.”

You hate how you feel him freeze, knowing what that means, what plaguing little thoughts are embedded in that tiny shift. 

Yoongi’s still hesitant to accept.

Because you are, too. In many ways. But this man has been picking you up and making you stronger day after day—in both his presence and absence—that you can’t help but fight to do the same. 

Does he ever think about you? Does he know that you’ll always be with him? No matter how close or far apart you are? You hope so. Because it’s so true that your heart is searing that promise into your soul, branding it as a reminder to reciprocate all this genuine love you’ve never been given before.

He loves you?

You still can’t accept that as fact.

…Maybe one day.

You chuckle to yourself, deciding to keep talking because Yoongi is still so very quiet. “At least. Until the day I get to meet my cat,” you huff in triumph. “Then I’m running away with her.”

It’s a perfect strike of a match. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.” You pretend to pout. “But I’m starting to think she ran away already and you won’t fess up.”

Yoongi laughs so suddenly you flinch. After a playful scoff, he tries to make you feel better, “She’s still here!”

“Lies.”

“How much are you betting, doll.”

“How much are you willing to lose, babe.”

“This much,” he finally says, pinching your sides and hissing laughter when you scream. “Maybe I’ll make you leave after all if you’re gonna be a problem.” 

“You did threaten to kick me out before.” 

“Huh? When?”

“That day I showed up,” you remind him through a chuckle. Thrown back to that first night, you start to see all the parallels between then and now. And how vastly different things have become. “Said you were gonna kick me out for hustling you.” 

The glorious laughter from the depths of his belly makes you grin, and you cringe when his brows pinch in both laughter and pain. “I should’ve!” 

He needs to get those hits healed. “You really should’ve.” 

“Played me from the very start. You happy with yourself?” When you nod, Yoongi shakes his head. “Course you are.” 

“You love it.” 

“I do.” Your eyes meet, which proves dangerous for you because he bites his smirk before pulling you in for a kiss. “Thought I was gonna say it, huh.” 

“No!” You lie. Because no, you certainly were not! “…Maybe.” 

“Guess what.” 

Suddenly paranoid, you give him a look, already expecting to be tricked again. 

But Yoongi captures your lips without warning, curling your toes into sheets you’re now achingly familiar with. After a few passes, he shifts above, planting a hand at your side and letting his chain slide against your chest as he slots a leg in between yours. 

Yet again, you think about that first night, that first time. The first of apparently, surprisingly, wonderfully unexpectedly many. 

Who would’ve thought rain and a broken ego would bloom into something good? Who would’ve believed a person so close to your roots would be your home? 

As he lets up with one last slow stroke of his tongue, you whisper, “What were you gonna say?” 

At this, Yoongi spreads closed lips, taking his time planting a peck on your nose. “I just fucking love you, doll.” 

Oh. He’s a menace and the most annoying tease on the planet. 

When you can’t do anything but flee into his chest, Yoongi immediately laughs, forcing you back out of your little shell. “You can’t hide now, babe.” 

“I can!” 

Leaned forward in your struggle, you give him no choice but to swoop his head into your neck. Which backfires on you immensely because he decides it’s the perfect time to rasp deep against your ear, “I love fucking you, too.” 

His name flies out of your mouth in disbelief and embarrassment, and his heightened amusement puffs into the burning column below your chin. 

This is the moment something comes over you. Slams into you. Washes you in present nostalgia like lingering footsteps on a balcony. 

And it hurts. It really, really hurts. 

Instead of laughing along, you come down from your high, squeezing him like the pillow that couldn’t replicate his warmth for months. “I miss you.”

After a second, Yoongi questions, “How? I’m right here.”

You know that. You do. But with every hello there’s a goodbye, and you don’t want that this time. Especially now that your heart knows that his beats the same. 

Breathy and shaken, you rest your head in his chest, hoping he doesn’t hear but does at the same time, “I still miss you.”

Strong fingers weakly press into your sides, and while you can’t see him, you know for a fact that his smile is gone. Because he also knows goodbye is coming again, and you can’t stay here forever as long as this is all a secret. 

You feel a sigh wisp over your head before words that make no fucking sense follow it out, “I can’t do shit like this anymore.” 

…What?

No. No no no he can’t be done just like that you both just confessed everything you need to fight say something anything anything—

“I wanna do this the right way.” 

Oh. 

Yoongi’s chest… It’s shaking. 

Pushing yourself up, you search his eyes for answers. “What are you saying?” 

When he looks at you, there’s a fire in his eyes that wasn’t there before. Or maybe it has been there all along, and he only needed a spark to set it ablaze. “I’m saying I’ll tell him, doll. Just me.” 

Oh. Oh, shit. Didn’t he say not yet? Didn’t he say he needs more time? He said he’d figure it out what is with the sudden…

Your tears are automatic as Yoongi roams his gaze from one eye to the other, and he’s swallowing before taking a step. A step you didn’t think he’d make. One you didn’t have the courage to take yourself. 

When he utters the words, your soul lets rain fall just as the storm resides.

And right as moonlight shines through his blinds.

“I’ll tell him everything.” 

-

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tbc. :)

-

so... how did it go! | join the server!

a/n: so. here we are, over two years and 250k+ words later. thank you for sticking with me if you're still here, and thank you for being the most amazing readers a writer could ever, ever ask for. if you can interact or let me know what you enjoyed/like, i would be eternally grateful. these two parts took all of me, and i'm gonna take a break for a little bit before starting on the next part. a/n 2: thank you for also being here despite the highs and lows! things have really weighed on me for awhile, which prevented me from working on this part forreal. but my mental feels a lot lighter now, and i am ready to keep running with y'all. so thank you for your support and encouragement, no matter how you show it! ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ masterlist  ⇥ three tangerines masterlist

[yeonzzzn]

hii I have an idea in mind ><

hee as your ex watching you ride his best friend jake

but instead of hee freaking out and being jealous, he will join them and ask y/n to show jake how good she can ride him

tysm !!

anon, I literally cannot thank you enough for blessing my askbox with this rq. I was drooling the entire time writing this.

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a good ride: heeseung / jaeyun

pairing: hee x afab!reader x jake word count: 2.4k

The last thing Heeseung expected to see when he returned back to the apartment was seeing you—his ex-girlfriend—riding Jake’s—his best friend—cock. 

Heeseung wasn’t even surprised in the slightest. He’s known Jake had the hots for you. He’s seen the way Jake would look at you when you were over like you were a piece of meat he wanted to get his mouth on badly. Has seen how Jake would check you out thinking nobody else had noticed it. 

Heeseung wasn’t even mad. Not at all. You and him have been broken up for a good three months now and Heeseung has accepted the end of the relationship. He figured Jake would snake his way to you somehow, wanting to have a taste of that sweet pussy of yours and even do it behind his back. Heeseung just didn’t think he’d catch you both in the act. 

Does he still love and care for you? Absolutely. Does he miss you? Of course. Does he wish nothing but the best for you even if that’s riding the fuck out of his best friend's dick? Also a yes. Would he do anything to fuck you again? Also a major yes. 

Which is why Heeseung kept quiet, watching carefully as you bounced on Jake’s cock, your head flung back as loud moans escaped your lips. Knuckles turning white from the grip you had on Jake’s shoulders. 

Jake was also completely fucked out. His eyes closed tightly with furrowed brows, panting and moaning like a bitch in heat with his hands attached to your waist. Your name spills from his lips following up with “Yeah, that’s it, baby,” and “Yessss, just like that, fuck.” 

Heeseung found this situation way too hot. Because like, is that how you looked when you rode him? Heeseung has only ever seen how you look when he was beneath you, never from the side like the angle of view he has right now. And boy was it a sight to see. 

Heeseung tried to keep quiet as he palmed his growing hard-clothed cock, steadying himself against the wall. He wanted to touch you, wanted Jake to watch him touch you. Show him how to touch you properly and in all the right places. Wanted Jake to see how you lose yourself on his cock. 

He pushed himself from the wall, his mind on autopilot as he now stood behind you, neither you nor Jake even realizing Heeseung was there. And neither of you didn’t until Heeseung’s hands cupped your breasts. 

You jolted to a stop, and leaned yourself back against Heeseung’s chest, already knowing it was his hands that were touching you, and on pure instinct you fell back onto him, letting out a gasped moan. 

It was Jake’s reaction to you no longer moving, seeing how his eyes widened out of fear that you realized what actually was happening, your body now tensed as you tried to push away from Heeseung. 

Oh god, what did you get yourself into? He was going to kill Jake and then you for this. You could tell Jake had the same thoughts. How could he not? He was railing his best friend's ex-girlfriend. You were supposed to be off limits, something Jake couldn’t have because of the bro code. Jake couldn’t help himself when it came to you, mostly after how upset you were after the breakup, he didn’t leave you alone and when the moment came for him to finally get his cock deep inside you, he took it. But at the cost of his best friend standing behind you now. 

“Why did you stop moving pretty?” Heeseung cooed into your ear, his fingers squeezing the plush of your breasts, “Go on, keep riding him.” 

You looked at Jake in confusion but continued to slowly move on him. This was the last thing you expected. 

Heeseung dipped his head to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses up the skin and to your jaw, “I’ve missed touching you baby,” he whispered, “And I love seeing the way you ride my best friend.” 

Jake’s hands on your waist squeezed tighter, something about the way Heeseung is just…letting this continue did something. You were clenching around his dick tighter, and the angle you sat on his lap now made him fuck so much deeper as you leaned into Heeseung’s touch. 

“Fuck fuck fuck,” Jake chanted, “Fuck she feels so good.” 

“Doesn’t she?” Heeseung snickered, tracing his tongue up the side of your face, “Cum on his cock, YN,” he kissed your brow before dropping one of your tits to connect that hand to your jaw and force you to look at him, “Make him cum too, then you’ll wrap yourself around me, understand?” 

Your head spun at the thought of getting to feel Heeseung deep inside you again. Jake might be big, but Heeseung was big. You ached for that stretch his cock will give you. 

You clenched around Jake tighter at the thought, bouncing faster on his dick. 

“Jake,” Heeseung said, leaning his face closer to you, his hot breath touching your lips, “Rub her clit,” 

Jake listened, releasing one hand from your waist and snaking it down to your clit, rubbing fast circles. 

You jolted your body upward, a wet moan escaping your lips only to be halfway muffled by Heeseung’s lips connecting to yours. His tongue shoved down your throat. 

Jake felt you clench around him,  causing him to throw his head back onto the couch, “she’s fixing to cum,” he moaned, “fuck she’s about to cum.” 

Heeseung pulled from your face, both your tongues still hung out your mouths, a string of salvia connecting your tongues together. Jake lost it at seeing that sight, seeing you so desperate to kiss his friend again, imagining you wanting to be that desperate over him instead. 

Heeseung ran his hand down to your heat and on top of Jake’s hand, helping him rub your clit faster, “Cum for us baby,” Heeseung whispered, “Show him how you can make a mess.” 

You leaned your head back onto Heeseung’s shoulder, keeping eye contact with Jake as he bucks his hips up into you, mouth gaped open and pants getting heavier. Jake loved how you stared at him, loved seeing how you bit your lip and whimpered as you came undone around his cock, keeping your eyes connected to him the entire time. 

Heeseung released his hand from Jake’s, the biggest smirk on his lips as his hands fly back to your tits, squeezing them and kissing your neck again, “Such a good girl baby, taking Jake’s cock so good.” 

“Fuck,” Jake moaned, his hands slipping to your hips and bucking faster, “M’cumming,” he pants more, dropping his head down, furrowing his brows, and squeezing his eyes shut, “Fuck I’m cumming.” 

Jake unloaded into you, pressing your hips down onto him, making sure every drop of his cum was shot deep inside you. 

“Good,” Heeseung cooed, “Make out with her while I undress myself.” 

Jake was confused as to why this was all even happening, but who was he to say no? He just fucked you in front of Heeseung, might as well keep going. 

Jake cups one hand to your neck and brings you to him, lips moving against yours, his aching cock getting hard again as you sit there and cock warm him. His hand at your hips slides to your thigh, squeezing the plush as you shove your tongue down his throat. 

“Fuck that’s so hot,” Heeseung groans, slipping his jacket off his body and tossing it to the floor, seeing how yours and Jake’s cum dripped out your cunt and pooled on Jake’s thighs and legs, “You both came so much.” 

Heeseung stripped himself of the rest of his clothes, sitting beside Jake, “Come here, baby.” 

You release your lips from Jake and look over at your ex-boyfriend, your body shaking as you shift yourself from Jake’s lap to Heeseung, loving how Heeseung’s cock was already twitching, so red and angry as it waits for you to suck it into your pussy. 

Heeseung places his hands on your hips softly, and tucked his bottom lip between his teeth, keeping his eyes locked with yours as you take his cock between your hands and lined himself up to your entrance, slowly sliding down onto him. 

You gasp at the stretch, your hands flying to Heeseung’s shoulders as he fills you completely. 

Heeseung furrowed his brows when his tip hits your cervix, fighting back the urge to close his eyes and release the loudest moan at feeling you wrapped around him, “Fuck, YN. Missed this cunt so fucking much.” 

“Missed this cock too,” you whisper, giving yourself time to adjust to his length and size. 

“Shit,” Jake hisses, taking his cock between his hands and pumping himself, your cum still covering his dick making it the perfect lube to help his hand slide up and down with ease. 

“Okay baby,” Heeseung said, “Show Jake just how good you ride my cock, ya?” 

You nodded, starting slow, letting your cunt shape itself perfectly to Heeseung’s size until you slid up and down his length with no problem then bounced on him. 

Jake was losing his mind, stroking his cock at the same speed you rode Heeseung. Jake knew the sexual chemistry between you and Heeseung would never be on the same level as you and him. Heeseung knew your body inside and out. Has had years to figure out how to work your body with his hands, mouth, cock, and the entirety of his body. Jake only had the few times he’s gotten to make out with you after the breakup and then today. But was Jake jealous to see you riding Heeseung? No, not one bit. All it did was give Jake silent pointers on how to fuck you better next time. 

Heeseung started moving his hips in sync with yours, his fingers digging into your hips, pants leaving his mouth and at a worse rate than what Jake was not even five minutes ago. 

Heeseung might have your body figured out, but he was such a sucker for your pussy. No other cunt will ever feel like yours or replace yours. He was weak for your fuckhole and probably always will be. 

“Fuck I’ve missed this pussy,” he groans, flinging his head back onto the couch, “Missed the way it feels wrapped around me, missed how fucking wet it gets, how it fits my cock so perfectly. Fuck. I’ve missed you. All of you.” 

Heeseung was so in love with you still, and the fact he was balls deep inside you after months of being away from you drove him to the edge. 

You were also still in love with him, losing yourself on his cock and bouncing faster and faster, wanting to feel him come undone beneath you. 

“Jake,” Heeseung hissed, trying to steady his breath but it came out shakey anyways, “Touch her, rub her clit again. I can’t cum before her, wanna feel her cum first. Fuck.” 

Jake stood quickly from the couch, pressing his chest to your back, cock twitching at the pressure of your skin against it. One hand wrapped around the front of your neck, pushing your head to his shoulder, while the other hand ran back to your clit, middle finger circling faster than he did earlier. 

You moaned out, one hand leaving Heeseung’s shoulder and finding its place on Jake’s hand around your neck. He wasn’t choking you, but the pressure there was driving you crazy. 

The feelings you have for both these men were driving you up a wall. And here you were, having the greatest threesome sex with them. 

Your skin felt hot at their touches, breathing became uneven. You tilted your head up to Jake’s, taking his lips back to yours, kissing him so desperately as if you needed to steal the oxygen from him. 

“Faster,” Heeseung groaned, feeling his climax reaching faster than he wanted it to, “Touch her faster.” 

“Fuck,” Jake moaned against your lips, working his finger on your clit faster, your mouth parting and hand gripping his wrist harder, “Fuck look at you, coming so undone by us,” Jake kisses you harder, “You’re so fucking sexy. Being so good at taking our cocks and fingers.” Jake started rubbing his cock against your back, knowing he was close to his second orgasm. 

You clenched around Heeseung’s cock, “I’m cumming,” you moaned into Jake’s mouth, “I’m cumming.”

“Yesssss,” Heeseung hisses, fucking into you faster until he felt your cum wrap around him and seep out your hole and onto his thighs, “Gonna fill this pretty cunt to the brim, gonna show you just how much I’ve missed you.” 

Heeseung fucked into you harder, being nearly seconds away from spilling his seed. Jake was now moaning into your mouth, the friction of your body moving from Heeseung fucking you and him bucking his hips against your back had him shooting his hot cum up your back, curses falling out of Jake’s lips as he drops his head down to your shoulder, biting hard on the skin from the high of his second time cumming. 

Your help from Jake’s bite sent Heeseung over, his cum painting your gummy walls white as if you were the canvas and he was the painter. 

The perfect painting that belonged in a museum. 

Heeseung slumped his body back onto the couch, the grip on your hips softening as his thumbs now do figure eights against the skin, “I love you,” he finally admits, “I still love you.” 

Before you tell him you still love him, Heeseung pulls you closer to his body, with no inch left of space, and falls to his side on the couch, grabbing Jake’s arm to force him to lay behind you, filling up every inch of the couch. 

“We’re dating again,” Heeseung growled, taking your chin between his fingers, “And you’re going to date Jake too.” 

Jake widened his eyes, staring at his best friend as if this was even remotely okay, “We are sharing?” 

Heeseung chuckles, giving a nod, “You already fucked her, I want to keep fucking her. We might as well share.” 

Jake just smiles, his lips connecting back to your shoulder as his index finger traces up and down your side, “I’m fine with that.” 

You felt dizzy as you were sandwiched between your boyfriends, feeling as if you were on cloud 9. 

Heeseung shifted, his cock still inside you twitching, “Jake, ready to ruin her again?” 

Your eyes widened, fixing to protest but feeling Jake’s fingers sliding into your mouth, shutting you up. His cock against your back hardened, “Fuck I want to keep ruining her.” 

This was your life now, but you couldn’t complain. Not when they both bent you over in multiple different positions and gave you praises. 

You could get used to this.

[vbecker10]

Aww, You Do Care

Pairing: Loki x female reader (Y/N)

Summary: You are an analyst for SHIELD and you are going for a simple surgical procedure. All of the Avengers wish you luck and Loki does his best to pretend he doesn't care.

Warnings: Loki being a little annoying but that's expected, mentions of a surgery happening but it isn't described and I skip from the day before to the day after so the surgery isn't shown at all

A/N: This is 100% self indulgent lol I'm actually going for this same surgery in the middle of August so I wanted to write how the team would respond to what was happening.

You close your laptop when the meeting ends and stand up, pushing in your chair. Loki stays seated in the chair next to you, finalizing his notes and Steve walks over to you from the other side of the table.

The super soldier pulls you into a tight hug and says, "Good luck tomorrow, Y/N."

"Thanks," you reply with a smile when he lets you go.

"My turn," Natasha says, pushing him aside. She hugs you tightly, "Good luck. Text me if you need anything."

"I will," you promise. "One of my friends is coming to stay with me for a few days so I should be okay."

Thor hugs you from behind, almost picking you up off the floor, "I hope everything goes well."

"Thanks," you laugh when he releases you.

Loki gets up, "Do you mind?"

He motions towards the door and you move out his way without saying anything to the God of Mischief. Tony rolls his eyes behind Loki's back then gives you a hug as well.

Loki stands with his hands in his pockets as he waits for the elevator and you join him silently.

"Why was the team so insistent on wishing you luck?" Loki asks without looking at you.

"I'm having an operation tomorrow," you answer.

"An operation?" Loki asks, his voice holds no emotion but you see a hint of worry in his eyes when he looks at you.

"It's not a big deal. I didn't bother to tell you cause I figured you wouldn't care," you shrug.

"I do not," he agrees and the doors open. "Out curiosity, not concern," he clarifies and you smile to yourself, looking down, "What type of surgery?"

You follow him into the elevator, "They are operating on my sinuses." You touch your cheeks then the bridge of your nose to indicate where the procedure will be performed.

"Why?" he asks, still trying to act as if he is unconcerned and merely curious.

You sigh, "You know how annoying you think it is when I can't stop sniffling or sneezing?"

"Yes," he nods. "It is quite irritating that you cannot breath silently and constantly sound as if you are unwell."

You roll your eyes but that was pretty much the response you expected from the younger prince. "Well it turns out there a reason I'm always kinda sick. There's something wrong with my sinuses so my doctor is going to remove the infected tissue and then reshape my sinus cavities so they work better," you tell him with a little description as possible.

"Oh," he nods, his eyes meet yours for a moment then he looks back at the elevator buttons.

"So, I'll need to find a new way to bother you since simply trying to breath won't do it anymore," you joke.

He chuckles, "I have no doubt you will find a way. You are one of the more tiresome Midgardians I have met."

"Hurtful," you tell him sarcastically when the doors open on his floor. "Try not to miss me too much. I'll be back in a few days," you wave when he steps out.

Just before the doors close fully Loki says, "Good luck, Y/N."

You stand alone in the elevator wondering if you had heard him correctly.

The day after the surgery, you lay in bed reading when your friend knocks on the open door to your bedroom. "You have a visitor," she says, pointing down the hall. "Feel like seeing anyone?"

You look at her a bit confused, a few of your friends were stopping by tomorrow afternoon but no one had texted about coming over today. "Umm, sure. Who is it?" you ask.

She shakes her head, "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Oh... that's- okay. Yeah, you can let them in," you tell her hesitantly.

"Hello," Loki says when he walks into your bedroom a moment later.

You look at him, too stunned to respond as you sit up more in bed. You adjust your sheets and put the bookmark back in your book before setting it next to you.

"How are you feeling?" he asks, his eyes showing a hint of concern as he observes your post surgery face.

"You remember that time the hulk slammed you into concrete a bunch of times?" you ask him.

He nods, "Vividly, yes."

"Kinda like that expect face first," you point to the bruises covering your cheeks and bandages supporting your nose.

"Well..." Loki smirks, "You do look as if that is what happened."

"No, I wanted to bring you this," he conjures a small potted plant and you look at it in surprise. He puts it on your nightstand and says, "I heard it was customary to bring flowers when someone is in the hospital but you have said before that most flowers aggravate your allergies so that did not seem like a suitable option. I know you have several plants similar to this one in your office so I thought you might like it."

You laugh but stop yourself quickly, the muscles in your face are still incredibly sore. "That was mean," you tell him, touching your cheek lightly. "Did you just come here to tell me I look awful?" you ask in a joking tone.

"Wow," you say quietly, touching the green leaves gently. You look up at him and smile even though it hurts, "Aww Loki, you big softy, you do care."

"Do not tell anyone," he says seriously then he returns the smile, "But of course I care."

I hope you liked this!! Please like, share and comment if you did 💚💚 Please let me know if you want to be added to my taglist!

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[rafeyswrd]

for your rafe cameron series 🧡!

i hc that rafe hates that his shy gf is a people pleaser so whenever ppl ask reader for/to do things, he tells them no and teaches reader to be selfish sometimes

sweet girl . part one.

part two.

. . . finally done with uni and travel work so!!! i have not written in too long, so hopefully i have done it some justice!! part 1 because i truly think it deserves more :(

warnings. manipulative rafe? oblivious reader. bad friends lowkey.

Rafe Cameron adored you to the ends of the earth, every breath you took called his name. He cannot think of any quality you owned in which he disliked (maybe, slightly, being a pogue). But God he could not stand how nice you were. You knew it was a bad habit, a habit that made you likeable for all the wrong reasons. 

Your heart was racing, and the base of your palms overloaded with sweat. No matter how many times you tried to relieve the stress, your mind would not stop reeling. It took days of convincing on your friends’ end, but it finally came to their luck when you’d hesitantly agreed.

Terrified. Terrified is the word you would use to describe how you felt. You were in shambles just thinking of the ocean, the deep seas scaring you in ways you would rather not imagine. But your friends needed you, after constructing a plan to get another batch of gold – all they needed was you.

“Are you ready?” JJ asked. Your shaking hands were gripping the edge of the boat before you nodded. 

You tried, you really did, only you felt the panic settle in when your legs were the only identifiable object below you that did not jitter you. Your eyes stung painfully, and you were sure they would swell soon enough. After every exhale you did, water filled your lungs and the fish that trickled by your trembling feet, did not help but cause a worrisome tremble of your body. 

It was a long while with overwhelming darkness consuming you, and time didn’t register then, not until Rafe’s angry voice was loading through your ears.

He was beyond furious. He wasn’t supposed to leave you alone today, but how could he say no to you when you were practically begging? (it did not take much — in fact.)

Rafe stood near his bed, watching your breathing steady and lashes gently flutter open. He paced near you with haste speed, before sitting down near your arms. “Do you know how stupid you are?”

“wh-what?” 

“You wanted to keep this relationship a secret,” his breath shook with every word he spat out, yet the touch on his hands were laced with gentleness. “So you better stay outta trouble. I can’t come ‘n get you around your shitty fucking friends.”

You sat up slowly, taking notice of the way your clothes lay folded on his desk chair, his own clothes hanging loosely around your body. You knew Rafe cared about you, he is your boyfriend, but it never crossed your mind that he’d find anger in your misery. 

You gulped, shrugging your shoulders yet your hands still circled by his, “I-I don’t get it, they’re my friends and they asked, it was a risk anyone would tak-”

“No the fuck it’s not, my God Y/N,” he dragged his hands over his face, before leaning close to you. “No friends would ask you to jump into the fuckin’ ocean knowin’ you’re scared shitless.”

His jaw clenched and you squint your eyes at the furrow of his brows, “Rafe…I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.” The frown residing on your face was evident, reaching out with one hand to clasp his rough hands with your own, and another tenderly caressing the creasing of his skin.

You didn’t understand his anger, but it was justified in your head, nonetheless. How could he ever be wrong in your eyes?

Not a second had passed and he was already mimicking the sadness plastered onto you, before using his other hand to caress your cheeks — a touch so soft sighs escaped the pair’s lips.

“Baby,” he cleared his throat, “Im- m’not mad at you. No one loves you like I do. I wouldn’t risk your life; your friends are selfish.”

He cradled your head onto his chest, wiping and pressing on your pouting mouth. “‘s not the first time either, you care too much ‘ts going to hurt you.” you shrug into his chest, heart aching at the sound of his own beating erratically breath your ears.

Rafe sighed, gulping and leaning onto the headboard, “gonna have to have me stuck by you all the time, i’ll be your backbone while you get to be all sweet ‘n shit.”

“you think i’m sweet?” a saccharine giggle escapes you at the roll of his eyes, and Rafe tightens his hold on you, knuckles white as you draw mindless patterns on his chest.

[sweet-as-an-angel]

König x Petite Reader Headcanons

Warnings: Non-Explicit Implications of Sexual Content, Petite Reader, Size Kink, Jealous König, Insecure König, Implied 141 x Reader, Petnames, No Pronouns used for Reader except ‘You’.

A/N: Forgot that I'd already written this once before, so here we are with more König x Petite Reader Headcanons ! Just see this as some extra content for our beloved König and his smol s/o <3

When it comes to you, this man is F E R A L

Genuinely cannot believe how perfect you are.

Constantly jokes about how he could fit you in the palm of his hand.

And once, to shut him up, you proved him right by sitting on his open hand when he wasn’t expecting it and gave him a smug look.

“There,” you said, folding your arms over your chest. “You can fit me in your palm.”

König tried not to think of how close he was to your special parts, how warm you felt on him.

He had to disappear to the bathroom for a few minutes afterwards, and when he returned, his face was flushed and he could barely look you in the eye.

He’s never been the same after that. Any trace of a size kink he had before has been amplified to such an extent that he’s taken to hiding your clothes so you’ll have to wear his.

And he just can’t keep his hands off you whenever you do.

“My my, Engel,” he says, one hand sliding around your waist and pulling you closer to him, the other drawing the hem of his shirt further and further up your thighs.

“What could you be hiding under here ?”

Calls you his Mini Maus.

“Because you’re just so tiny and precious !” he gushes.

And since you’re so small compared to him, he treats you as if you’re fragile, like an endangered species of flower.

Concerning intimacy at the beginning of your relationship, König was concerned that he was too big for you.

But, when you put his mind at ease (and challenge him) – “I bet I can take you, Köni~” – you’re in for it.

König’s fighting spirit won’t let you off easy.

When he’s feeling more dominant, he bunches your wrists into one of his hands while he sits on top of you, his other hand slipping beneath your (his) shirt and slithering round the band of your underwear.

“Pretty little thing,” he says, a dangerous smile at his lips. “All weak and defenseless.” He leans down, his eyes dark and wild. “Just for me.”

If you try to struggle (consensually), he’ll smack you through your underwear. And not gently, either.

“Don’t test me, Mini,” he says, his grip about your wrists tightening. “You don’t know what I’m like when I’m angry.”

He loooooves fitting his hands around your waist.

Especially when he finds that his hands wrap around your middle and his fingers touch.

Size kink: upgraded.

He gets lowkey jealous if you ask someone else to reach something for you.

Will sulk about it.

“I just don’t see why you had to ask Ghost to get it for you,” he’ll say, frowning as he lies in bed.

You sigh, putting your book down.

“König, you weren’t even here !” you say. “And I was starving !”

König knows he’s being unreasonable, but he can’t help but feel like he can be easily replaced.

Especially when he knows the rest of the 141 would gladly drop everything to be with you.

He’s not stupid, he’s seen the way they look at you.

A few minutes alone together and a kind word – “You’re so perfect, Köni~ My big, big boy,” – will set him straight.

Loves showing you off to his friends. His acquaintances aren’t safe, either.

He’ll stand you before him and show you off to his associates like: ”Look, this is my partner ! Aren’t they beautiful ?!”

So help him god if anyone tries to show you up or disagree.

You’ll never see them again.

And neither will anyone else.

König loves you more than life itself, and regardless of his insecurities or your unwavering ability to have anyone you could ever want, he’s glad you chose him <3

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

[star-hoon]

INTERMISSION — (l. heeseung)

"THE WAY YOU THINK ABOUT ME, I THINK ABOUT YOU"

pairing: idol! heeseung x idol! fem reader (drabble)

includes/warnings(18+):  SMUT (MDNI), mutual mastrubation, dry humping (on leg/at his feet), profanity, dirty talk, praise kink (kitten, sweetheart,baby), semi public sex (let me know if i missed anything!)

word count: 1.3k

synopsis: you and heeseung do a tiktok challenge at an award show and both cannot deny the tension between you. he sneaks into your dressing room during the intermission and use the time quite *efficiently* hehe

disclaimer: this is a work of fiction. this does not represent any true events involving heeseung and does not depict real life behind-the-scenes of idol culture/award shows.

— MASTERLIST

"swee eee eet sweet venom" you lip synced, finishing the tiktok dance with the signature hand gesture, followed by waving goodbye to the camera in front of you and giving your best charming facial expressions.

you tilted your body, leaning slightly towards heeseung who was next to you. the fabric of his jacket brushed against your arm and it sent a chill up your spine.

you tried to ignore the feeling as you and him went over to the camera man to monitor the video to give the staff the okay that the video was to both of your likings.

he was the quite the bit taller than you so he was able to stand behind you and still see the screen. you could feel the warmth of his body behind you.

he leaned down to "see the screen better", his breath tickling your ear. you felt your breath hitch at his close proximity.

thankfully all of the staff was so absorbed in reviewing the video, he was able to catch some sneaky glances of you. your outfit was cute and suited you perfectly, the dainty skirt and crop top making you look all the more adorable. and your makeup enhancing your features perfectly.

is this guy crazy? being so close to you with staff and potentially cameras around?? you thought to yourself.

you didn't realize how lost in thought you were until you heard a staff member's voice bring you back to reality.

"y/n? y/n? is the video good?- you look pale, do you feel sick? someone get her a water and a fan!" the staff member shouted and waving with urgency.

"no no, i'm okay! really! sorry i apologize for spacing out. yes, the video looks great. thank you!" you bowed stepping away. heeseung looked over at you, smirking.

"yeah the video looks great. thanks so much everyone!" he also bowed, waving at the staff, signaling the majority of them leave and attend to their other duties.

there were just a handful of stylists left in the room, touching up each of your makeup and hair respectively. you both periodically glanced at each other from across the room—the chemistry between you was undeniable at this point.

you knew it, and heeseung knew it.

he couldn't wait another second to be alone with you.

somehow by the grace of god, he was able to come up with some shitty excuse of 'using the bathroom' to sneak into your dressing room.

he calming opened the door, locking it behind him. but after that it felt anything but calm. he took two long strides towards you, pressing your body against the nearby wall.

his hands went to grab your hip and upper thigh. his touch making you bite your lip to suppress a moan. his fingertips trailed higher and higher, but eventually hitting fabric much to his dismay.

"stupid safety shorts" he said under his breath. he would have much preferred to see you in the cute skirt without them, or without anything underneath for that matter.

he leaned in, the tip of his nose brushing yours. you could tell his pupils were blown out even with his colored contacts. his deep plum hair and black jacket making his look that much more alluring.

he's waited so long for this—after countless award shows and music shows having to be so professional around you, acting like the sight of you did nothing to him. never getting a chance to be alone with you. but this was his chance and he wasn't going to waste it.

"h-heeseung, my makeup..." you put your hands lightly on his hard chest as he leaned in fully for a kiss. you couldn't risk getting your lipstick and lipgloss getting all over his lips. this was already all too risky as it is. you both knew it.

as much as you and him wanted this, you both weren't about to risk your entire idol career on this. the sound of footsteps and muffled voices from the hallway a dreadful reminder of the situation.

"fuck c'mere princess, get on your knees" he lighting tugged your wrist, leading you over to the couch as he sat down. it was like you were possessed and obeyed his every word without hesitation.

he smirked at your obedience as you stared at him between his legs with twinkling eyes. your flushed cheeks and glossed lips made him want to do nothing more than to have you choking on his cock. but that was for another time.

"what a good little kitten for me..." he said as he pets your head and leaning down to whisper in your ear "...who would have guessed y/n of [girl group name] could be so naughty? what would all of our fans think?"

you whimpered at his words, his deep voice tickling your ear making you clench your thighs for some relief. you continued looking at him, but now with a confused expression as to what he wanted you to do.

it was as if he could read your mind. "well sweetheart, just like you said, you can't ruin your makeup." he said with a cocky expression, smirking and quirking his eyebrows "...so get off on my shoe then. take off your safety shorts."

as you removed your safety shorts, he groaned at the sight of your white lace panties. he didn't miss the sight of the darkened patch on them. he unzipped his slacks and took his now hard cock out of his boxers just enough to jerk himself off.

his cock was big and looked so perfectly red and veiny, just begging to be sucked. the sight alone made your panties even more soaked than they already were.

you moved to straddle his sneakers, your hands grabbing on to his leg and knee for stability. you lowered your core and moved on top of his foot.

your started grinding on him, your grip on his leg tightening. the hardness and texture of his shoes finally granting relief to your aching core. you let out a soft moan at the sensation, your eyes fluttering closed.

"does it feel good princess?" he looked down at your fucked out state as he jerked himself off.

"y-y-yeah it feels so fucking good"

"yeah? i bet it does. touch your clit for me."

you reached into your panties to rub your clit, the feeling of your wetness causing you to gasp. the soft squelching sounds of your wetness boosting heeseung's ego even further.

"you're so wet for me y/n. all that just from grinding on my shoe? fuckkkk" his hooded eyes had an intensity and darkness to them that you had only ever seen on stage to please the adoring fans. but now it was only for you.

he fisted his cock, increasing his pace. he wished he could feel your tightness, your wetness. imagining his fist was your pussy instead.

you switched back to rutting against his leg, your release already close. he could tell from your messy rhythm you were close to cumming.

"you close? fuck i am too kitten. come on, come for me."

"h-heesung i'm gon-gonna come. f-fuc-" with only a few more rubs and you finished in your panties. you whimpered letting out soft whines resting your forehead against his knee, riding out your high.

he grabbed the tissue box on the table next to the couch, finishing not long after you. he leaned his head back on the couch, taking in the euphoria.

he handed you a tissue to clean yourself, kissing your cheek softly.

"so, when's the next award show?"

author’s note: omg 65 followers!!! thank you guys so much, you seriously don't know how much that means to me, especially because i only have 2 works published, including this one. all of your reblogs, comments, and likes srsly make my day & motivate me sm to keep writing ₍^ >ヮ<^₎ .ᐟ.ᐟ

+ was this any good i srsly cannot even tell, you can be honest w/ me lolol

taglist: @laylasbunbunny @enha-stars

⋆˙⟡♡  permanent taglist currently open! ⋆˙⟡♡ 

— if you would like to be added to my permanent taglist, pls message me or in an ask! it's easier for me to see it instead of in a comment :)

thank you so much for reading, please let me know what you think <3

reblogs, comments, & likes are always appreciated!!

[alisonwritesimagines]

This Night is Sparkling, Don't You Let it Go ~LA! Shanks Imagine~

Summary: The moment Luffy gets his own bounty poster, Shanks makes the decision to come back to you.

Author’s Note: Not as long as the angst one but at least this is the fluff ending.

Fluff Ending to I Was Enchanted to Meet You

Reader’s Pronouns: She/Her

Warnings: fluff, mentions of sex

Side Note: This is a secondary blog. If you comment a question down below, I will not answer since this is not the main blog. Please send the question to my inbox if you want a response back!

Do not repost this anywhere!

“I’m going to be king of the pirates and I promise that I will find Shanks and you two can live with me in an island or I can get you two your own island so you two can be happy,” Luffy tells you.

“Focus on becoming King of the Pirates first then you can worry about me," you tell him.

"I promise I'll make you proud. I won't forget what you and Shanks taught me," Luffy said.

You watched as Luffy was ready to set off in the world to become king of the pirates. He had told you two days before that he was leaving and that he had gotten a small boat ready. You felt nervous on letting him go off but you knew that he would not change his mind once he had his mind set.

“And I promise to be safe. I’ll send you letters of my adventures!”

“Or you could always come back and visit me,” you tell him.

“I will do that too!”

“Luffy. Please be careful,” you tell him.

“I will. And thank you. For taking care of me for all these years,” Luffy said.

“Of course.”

“I’ll see you again soon! And I’ll bring back some awesome stuff for you!” Luffy said before giving you a quick kiss on the cheek. He got on his boat and began to sail off.

-

A few weeks later, you saw Luffy’s bounty poster in the newspaper. You stared at his photo as you fiddled with the ring Shanks gave you.

You were alone now. Luffy was off being a pirate and Shanks was God knows where. You leaned your head on your head as you stared down at the photo. You missed your boys and now that you were alone, what was left for you to do?

"You okay, Y/n?" Makino asked you.

"Just missing my boys," you tell her.

"At least you know how Luffy's doing," she said. You smile softly before nodding.

-

“Gents! We are setting sail!” Shanks called out after drinking another pint of beer.

“Where to captain?”

“Windmill Village! I need to pick up someone from there,” Shanks told his crew.

“You mean Y/n?”

“Of course I do. Let’s go get her shall we?”

-

You gathered your vegetables from your garden before walking back to your home. You began to separate them for ones to keep and ones to sell. Now that Luffy was gone, you had more food to sell.

A faint knock at the door was heard making you look over. You walked to the door to find Shanks standing there. Your eyes widen as you stared at him.

“Shanks?”

“You’re just as beautiful as the day I left,” Shanks said before cupping your cheek and leaning in to kiss you.

“Wait! Did you find the one piece? Why are you here? Am I dreaming?” You asked, a million questions ran through your head.

“Haven't found the one piece yet. But I am here to take my fiancée away from here."

“Shanks-“

“I saw Luffy’s bounty poster. And I knew that meant you’re no longer taking care of him. So join me, my love.”

“Shanks. I don’t know.”

“Please. I cannot bare another day without you. Join me and I promise you to give you everything you could ever ask for,” Shanks tells you. You leaned up to kiss him again before pulling him into your home with his shirt. He closed the door behind him, locking it with his one hand.

“I’ll join you Shanks. But first, I need you to touch me again,” you tell him as you began to undo the knot on his cape.

“Of course my love. I'm all yours."

-

“I’ve missed you so much,” you tell him as you cuddled up next to him. There was only one perk of Shanks having one arm. You can lie close to him without worrying about making his arm hurt or fall asleep.

“I’ve missed you too. You’re all that I thought of,” Shanks tells you.

“Same here. I should leave a note for Luffy for when he decides to visit,” you mention as you looked around your home.

“Of course.”

As you packed your bags, you looked around at your home. You began to tear up as you stared at a few pictures of you and Luffy.

“You’ll see him again my love,” Shanks said, kissing your head.

“I know. But I just can’t help but think what would happen if Luffy came home and he needs help?”

“He’s a grown boy now, Y/n. And even then, we can always come back here if you need to,” Shanks told you. You nodded before kissing him once more.

“Though I’d like to marry you before we set sail,” Shanks mentioned as he held your hand.

“I’d love that.”

Once you were packed up, you two headed to the village. You dropped off the vegetables to Makino while one of Shanks’s crew members brought your stuff to Shanks’s room. You wore a white dress as requested by Shanks.

“Shall we get married?” Shanks asked you.

“Who’s going to officiate?”

“My crew got the priest to quickly rush over so we can marry before we set sail.”

“You planned this didn’t you?”

“Darling, I knew I wanted to make you mine forever the moment I decided to come back to you.”

You smiled at Shanks before kissing him once more.

Shanks’s crew and a few of your close friends were your witnesses to your small and quick wedding. But it didn’t matter if it wasn’t a traditional wedding. You had each other and that’s all that mattered.

While the crew celebrated in the village, you and Shanks were enjoying each other’s company in his room on his ship. The two of you didn't wait any time to consummate your marriage together.

Shanks lied awake as you slept soundly next to him. After six rounds, you were knocked out. Shanks smiled as he kissed your forehead, finally being able to relax now that you were in his arms.

“I love you so much my love,” Shanks tells you.

—

“If it isn’t my lovely wife,” Shanks smiled as you waddled over to him.

You were eight months pregnant and Shanks was more than happy for you to be carrying his child. He quickly greeted you in the middle before kissing you on the lips.

“How is my beautiful wife?” Shanks asked you.

“I feel fat,” you tell him honestly.

“Nonsense. You’re still the most gorgeous woman in my eyes,” Shanks said.

“Plus it doesn’t help that the sea is making me sick again,” you tell him as you felt queasy.

“We’ll be docking again back home my love,” Shanks assured you before kissing you once more.

“Are you sure you're okay with staying in the village until the baby is born?" You asked him.

"Of course. I'd do anything for our family," Shanks said before kissing your head.

—

"Daddy! Come on!" Your five year old son called out as he ran towards the ocean.

"Don't go too far or else you'll give your mother a heart attack," Shanks chuckled as he carried his one year old daughter in his arm.

"Why doesn't anyone wait for me?" You complained as you waddled over towards your family.

"I'm here for you," Shanks said as he waited for you. Though you had two kids already, you were expecting one more.

"You did this to me," you joked as you pointed a finger at him.

"I don't recall you complaining about it," Shanks smiled before giving you a quick kiss.

"Mom! Can we have a bonfire later?" Your son asked you.

"Yeah. Of course baby," you nodded.

Shanks and you sat on chairs next to your son as he built a sandcastle. You smiled at Shanks as he smiled down at your daughter.

"I got a letter from Luffy. Said he plans on visiting us next month with his crew," you tell Shanks.

"Oh good. Haven't seen him in a while," Shanks said.

"I know. I'm happy to see him and his pirate crew together. Remember when he always asked for you to take him into your crew?" You asked Shanks.

"Those were the good old days," Shanks laughed a little.

"Yeah. I'm glad you came back to me sooner."

"I'm glad to. I could never imagine a life without," Shanks tells you before leaning in to kiss you.

[ponderingmoonlight]

hiihihi can i request prompt 55 for megumi?? maybe reader texted him late at night and wanted him to sneak into her dorm after curfew? (maybeee gojo caught them a lil while later 👀 only doing rounds cause he was nosy and wanted to snoop lmaoo)

I’m an absolute sucker for Megumi, thank you for this request! It’s a little goofy, kinda got inspired by my dress up darling xD Hope you like it though, please let me know :) 55. "I'm tired. Don't make me angry."

Caught

Pairing: Megumi Fushiguro x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,8k

Synopsis: Megumi knows it isn't allowed to visit you after curfew late at night, but the temptation is just too great. However, it is percisely this night that Gojo noticed the both of you and finds you in a rather unfavorable situation.

Warnings: language, mentions of smut, it's getting a little heated

Yo loser, you still awake? 🖤

Stop calling me that, yes I am (y/n).

Wanna come over? I’m bored as hell :(

Not my problem, remember curfew? I don’t want to get into trouble because of you.

You sign at your screen and roll your eyes in annoyance. God, Megumi is such a pain in the ass when it comes to following these stupid rules. You are mature enough to decide on your own when and who you want to visit. And how would they know? All the teachers are sound asleep anyway. Not even Gojo has the nerve to stay alert all night just to make sure that Megumi won’t visit you, right?

You just have to be silent. Shouldn’t be hard for you.

I’m tired. Don’t make me angry (y/n).

Pleeeaaaassseee Megumi, I’m begging on my knees :(

Megumi throws his phone to the side in irritation. Why do you always have to bother him this late at night? Of course his heart beats out of his chest just thinking about seeing you alone, but why does meeting you always bond with getting into trouble?

Still…maybe he is even able to hold you in his arms until the sun begins to rise. He’d ditch sleep a hundred times if it meant that you are by his side. As noiselessly as possible he sits up in bed and glances at Yuji who is breathing peacefully and is keeping his eyes closed. Megumi stands up, puts on his slippers and walks to the door. The girl’s corridor is down the hall, quite a stretch that cannot be explained if someone catches him there.  Why does he keep doing things like this for you?

It doesn’t matter. As if in trance his feet carry him to your door. His knuckles brush gently against the hard wood, eyes swaying around in alert.

Your heart skips a beat when you catch a glimpse of him in the dim moonlight. He really came! With a wide grin on your face you grab his hand and pull him into your room.

“Megumi!”, you cry out in excitement.

“Shh, you want everyone to know that I’m here? Maki is next door”, he hisses.

A glimpse of you is enough to make Megumi blush in an instant. You are covered by nothing but an oversized Shirt, your butt just barely covered by it. Are you only wearing underwear underneath this? He always knew and appreciated that you are comfortable around him, but the sight of your naked thighs does thinks to him and lets his mind wander. Why do you have to be so ridiculously attractive anyway?

“Come on, Maki sleeps like a rock and who cares about you being here anyway? Except for me, of course. You can’t even imagine how happy it makes me that you really came”, you shyly admit.

He looks as breathtaking as usual, maybe even better with his loose black sweater that shows off his tight muscles underneath so perfectly. Nothing ever happened between Megumi and you. You’re just friends that meet up late at night and lay in your bed until the sun rises, talking about everything and everyone. Megumi never touched you, never cuddled you, never intertwined his hand with yours. But oh how much you wished he did. Since you joined Jujutsu High alongside him, your feelings for the black-haired boy grew day by day. Now you can’t imagine life without him, your heart starts to dance whenever you see him.

“You know, I just really like your company”, he responses, scratching his head awkwardly and avoiding your gaze.

Your heart skips a beat, face lighting up by the sound of his sweet words. It is rare that he says such things to you, Megumi isn’t the vocal one anyway. Actually you are, but not when it comes to him. He is the only person that lets your outspoken and confident self get soft and all flustered, not even brave enough to give him a hug.

“Wanna lay in bed? You said you were tired.”

Not anymore. Your sight alone is better than the best sleep and wakes him up every time.     

“Sure.”

His gaze brushes over your moonlit features as you climb into bed, sliding against the wall and invitingly padding the sheets next to you. It makes him nervous to lay this close to you, knowing that you wear nothing but a shirt and that you are absolutely breathtaking beautiful. His heart almost beats out of his chest when the mattress gives in under his weight and your bare arm brushes against his skin while he lays down. Everything smells so good. He can immediately scent your sweet shampoo on the cushion under his head as well as the delicious fragrance of your body spray that hangs in the air and tingles in his nose. But the sight of your glistering eyes is what sends him over the edge.

“God, you are so beautiful.”

The words escape his mouth faster than he can react, hands covering his mouth in shock. Did he really just say that? Fuck, you must think he is really awkward, that all he thinks about are your good looks.

“I-I mean…You’re pretty smart as well…”, he stutters, face flushing immediately.

A cute little giggle escapes your mouth, cheeks heating up at his sudden outburst. Here and there a few compliments slipped out of Megumi’s mouth and left him all flustered. You adored the blush creeping up his face and the way he always scratched his head awkwardly in silence.

“(y/n), you need to be a little quieter. I don’t want Gojo-sensei to find us here”, he whispers, gaze creeping to the door.

“Don’t worry, he never did!”

Little did you know that Satoru just woke up from his light sleep and your giggling that echoed through the otherwise quiet halls of the dorms. He straightens himself and puts on a pair of sweatpants, a yawn escaping his lips. Why the hell is someone awake this late at night? Putting on his slippers, he leaves his room and roams around.

Another giggle. His eyes narrow. This sounds like you. Why are you giggling? Maybe someone is with you. Gojo doesn’t waste any more time and traces into the girl’s corridor. The ruffling, giggles and muffled voices grow louder as he moves towards your door. That other voice, it sounds so familiar…His eyes widen in surprise. Is that Megumi? What are you doing in there, after curfew alone in your room late at night? Fuck, he didn’t prepare Megumi for any for this. Does he know how this works? Is he using protection? Gojo’s pace picks up in an instant, panic mode completely activated.

“(y/n) and Megumi-chan, I know you’re in there. Get dressed within the next ten seconds”, he announces.

Your eyes widen in pure horror. Fuck, Gojo is here. Why the hell is Gojo here? He never caught you over the span of many months. Why today? Why when Megumi’s arms are this close to you, ready to hug you tightly?

“I told you!”, Megumi hisses through gritted teeth, panic written on his face.

“I’ll lock the door”, you proclaim with determination and lift yourself up.

This will give Megumi enough time to hide somewhere. You frantically swing your leg over his body, almost losing balance on the soft mattress underneath and your body tangled within the blanket in your rush.

“Fuck”, you mutter and search for hold, hands landing on his chest.

Instinctively, his hands grab your hips tightly just in time before you fall onto the ground.

Time stands still, your eyes stare right into Megumi’s ones. You’re sitting on top of him, thighs pressed against his with his big hands resting against your hips, squeezing them. You can feel something twitching underneath you, Megumi’s heartbeat bangs against your hands. Oh god. Is this really happening? All you can do is hold your breath and stare at him, every cell of your body refusing to move.

You sit on top of Megumi Fushiguro.

His hands grab your hips.

You know exactly what is moving beneath you.

“We didn’t even talk about this Megumi-chan, get back into yo- OH MY GODNESS.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Gojo entered the room, gaping at the both of you with his mouth wide open and completely frozen in his tracks.

“I-It’s not what it l-looks like…I-I promise!”, you stutter, full panic mode activated.

You stumble off him, body swaying back and forth. Did you really just sit on Megumi? With Gojo catching you mid-action?

Megumi hectically covers his lower body with a blanket, face dripping in sweat, embarrassment and heat. You just sat on him. He got hard and you probably noticed. Gojo saw all of this. He doesn’t know what to think or say anymore, mind completely occupied by what just happened. Did you really sit on him?

“Listen kids, I don’t care about curfew or anything, but please make sure to use protection and be…y’know…quiet.”

Even Gojo stumbles over his words at this point, avoiding gazing at your poorly dressed figure.

“We didn’t do anything. It just looked strange”, Megumi finally speaks out.

You want to be swallowed by the ground and hide in a tiny hole for the rest of your life. Your sensei thinks that you two got intimate. But not only that, it looked like he caught you mid-action. But more important than that…You sat on Megumi and he was very excited about that. Does that mean that he…likes you?

“Sure. Listen, let’s talk about this tomorrow or even better, never again. Just make sure to be quiet…Ehm, have a nice night I guess.”

And with that, Gojo closes the door behind him, leaving the both of you with his fast steps echoing down the hall.

Silence fills the room, you don’t dare to look at Megumi.

“Maybe…You wanna cuddle for a bit? Doesn’t make any difference anymore I guess.”

Your heart skips a beat. Did this words really just left his mouth, the mouth of Megumi Fushiguro, the boy who never even tried to put an arm around you? This night truly just keeps getting crazier.

“Aren’t you worried about what Gojo-sensei thinks?”, you question, face still hot in embarrassment.

“I’ll talk to him in the morning. We don’t have to if yo-“

“No”, you interrupt him immediately.

“I would love to lay in your arms.”

And that’s what you did. His warm arms welcomed and held you tight through the rest of this eventful night, heart still racing uncontrollably.

“I think I like you more than a friend”, you admit into silence, face buried against his chest.

“Me too.”

“Yeah, I noticed that”, you remark before you can stop yourself.

Megumi pushes you off his chest, face red as a tomato almost instantly.

“Can we please just stop talking about that, (y/n)?”

[lunchtimebedamned1997]

I love the concept of Alastor being just as affected by his separation from Vox as Vox is.

I like the idea of Alastor being more open minded, to technology, to innovation, to music and food and experiences. Vox takes all those things to an 11. Him to an 11. They both do, two men never satisfied, even in the endless seas of indulgence that hell can offer it's powerful.

But then something tears them apart. They tear each other apart.

Resentments fester. Vox copes by changing constantly, using innovation and change and modernity to escape himself, escape his past, his feelings, his memories. Alastor digs his heals in. He picks his niches and stays there, keeping his power and his interests as they are by pure force of will.

Vox draws everyone in, screaming love me with the rings in his eyes; letting himself and the people he touches think they're choosing that. That it's not some grand farce. Some dramatic ploy. A lie. And Alastor lashes out at anyone he can't control in explicit clarity. He needs everyone he lets even remotely close to know that he is his own priority.

I love the idea of two men ruining each other to the point where they force themselves to try and be opposites - traveling so far apart yet never being able to remove the other from their clothes, their feelings, their eternal fucking existences.

The connections they fight to sever never going away. Their hate as powerful as their care. Their lies loud and their pounding hearts louder. They want the other to suffer. But they don't want them to go. Not forever. Just away. Away somewhere close. Not gone for seven years without a trace. Not really gone. Never that. Neither would say it, but I wonder if either could stand that.

I cannot wait to see what Alastor actually cares about besides himself and his mother next season. I'm aoieh;oaiwahohi god I need it sm.

[seoulmatez]

— 𝓀𝒾𝓈𝓈 𝒾𝓉 𝒷𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇 ౨ৎ

suo hayato x reader. 865 wc. ﾉ sfw ﾉ fluff ﾉ established relationship ﾉ mentions of injury

knock knock knock.

knuckles bang against your door in a familiar pattern. you can see the culprit in your mind, one arm tucked behind his back, the other no doubt joining it if the sudden silence is any indication. your gaze swaps from your book to the clock on the wall—it’s just about time for him to stroll around.

you untangle your legs from beneath you on the couch and your feet tingle from sitting on them for so long as you pad your way over to the door. a click sound in the entryway when you unlock the barrier, and another when you turn the knob and pull the door open. 

suo stands before you, head tilted, a soft smile pulling the corners of his lips up. seeing him smile, you can’t help but do the same. he straightens his head and brings his hand up in a wave, his lips part to speak. “good eve—”

“oh my god, what happened to your face?” you hadn’t noticed it earlier—a tuft of dark hair must have concealed it—but there’s a cut on suo’s face, right on his cheekbone. it’s small, probably a nick from a ring that caught him, but you’ve never once seen suo injured. the skin around the bright red scrape is a duller hue as it begins to bruise. the sight isn’t all that bad but you still find yourself frowning.

“huh?” suo’s eyes widen at your interruption. he follows your concerned stare, hand lifting to where your eyes haven’t moved from. the skin beneath his fingers throbs with his touch. it’s not painful, just brings attention to something he had long since forgotten about. “oh, this? it’s nothing, just a scratch.”

“sure it is—until it gets infected or leaves a scar.” you take his hand in yours and pull him inside the apartment, closing the door behind the both of you. you point to your dining area. “go sit at the table.”

“ooh, are we playing doctor?” suo asks, carefully stepping out of his shoes before making his way to your modest sitting area. you give him a playful slap on the shoulder as you pass by him to the kitchen, earning a short chuckle from the man in the eyepatch.

you quickly wash your hands and pull out the first aid kit you keep in one of your cupboards, joining suo at your two-person table. you drag the chair closer to his and plop down in the seat before unzipping the kit you bought when you first moved in yet have only used enough to keep count on one hand. 

you never could have imagined you’d be pulling it out for suo.

you’ve seen him after his fair share of fights and he always comes back unscathed. if you hadn’t witnessed one of his brawls yourself, you’d question if he even fought at all. it makes you wonder what was different this time around.

“what happened?” you ask, gently dabbing the cut with a wet washcloth. your eyes drift up to his and he looks just as unbothered as usual. he doesn’t really have reason to be bothered, you suppose. his injury is superficial at most, but that doesn’t stop you from being worried. “someone actually hit you?”

“i was just caught off guard is all,” he tells you as you smooth a thin layer of ointment over the wound. it’s cool against his skin but the heat from your finger soon permeates the salve—he thinks he prefers your warmth. 

a simple cut doesn’t deserve such tender care, though suo accepts it happily. it’s not often that the hands he’s met with are so gentle. no need to dodge or duck or evade—he simply lets the softness of your fingers tend to him. it’s greedy and he knows it, but he could certainly get used to this.

“maybe i should let my guard down more often,” he suggests, watching you peel off the coated backing of a bandaid. you level him with an unapproving look as you stick the bandage over his cut. “if it means you’ll be taking care of me, that is.”

“don’t even think about it.” as cute as he looks with a sanrio bandaid taped to his cheek, this cannot become a regular occurrence. you aren’t sure you can handle anything more than the little laceration. “a tiny cut was scary enough.”

“hey, didn’t i already tell you it was nothing?” he reaches out to pinch your cheek and while your lips poke out in a pout, his turn up in a grin. who would have thought you’d get so worked up over something so insignificant? it’s practically a paper cut in suo’s eyes. though, if the sight of him injured—even a minor scrape like this—is enough to make you so uneasy, he’ll be sure it never happens again.

“no more showing up on your doorstep wounded,” suo tells you, and your pout disappears, replaced by a relieved smile. “but…”

“but what?” you ask, eyebrows raising curiously.

“i think you forgot an important component of my care plan,” he explains matter-of-factly. 

“and what’s that?”

he points to his bandaged cut. “you didn’t kiss it better, doctor.”

thanks for reading! reblogs and comments are super appreciated :3

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Can i request follower!Narinder x follower!reader who's kind heart person? Like they always want to help other even tho they rude to them,and they forgive them eventually but Narinder cannot handle see​ing his spouse being disrespectful.

I want this to be oneshot angst/fluff pls thank you and have a nice day/night🥰

"How goes...your marriage..?"

"Hmph..hello to you too, sister." Narinder rolled his eyes as he sat by the pond with a bowl of stew, hoping for some peace and quiet.

But of course, ever since his siblings arrived into Lamb's cult and learned that he was betrothed to a mortal..he hasn't known such things.

He could tolerate Heket at the very least, since Kallamar was off flirting with gods-know-who, Leshy was on a missionary, and Shamura was reading their usual books.

"It fairs well. I sometimes find it funny.."

"Hm?"

"Shamura surely couldn't have predicted that I would become wedded to a measly mortal..let alone find myself in my vessel's cult. I was to sacrifice them and all of Lamb's followers. Yet when I ended up here..[y/n] was the first to reach out a hand and help me find my place." The black cat huffed. "When others mocked me..they defended my name day and night despite my past transgressions, willing to lookover the fact I once thought of them as nothing but a pawn in my game."

"You've..gotten soft..brother.." Heket lightly teased, earning her a scowl from him. However, something in the distance caught her eyes, and she tensed. "Go."

"What? Go away, you mean?" He blinked in confusion, taken aback by her command as he sneered. "I open my heart up to you, and you have the nerve to-?!"

"[Y/n]." She simply pointed, and he followed her gaze to the drinkhouse where you were trying to help a drunken follower stand on their own two feet.

While you could normally handle that sort of thing, something about it didn't sit right with Narinder. They were acting rather belligerent, babbling nonsense and causing a barrel to topple over, all while refusing to surrender their empty glass.

Only then he remember you were the bartender for today and were trying to close up shop.

He got up, deciding to let Heket finish his stew, and began walking over. His footsteps were silent as to not draw attention to himself.

He wanted to observe how you'd handle the situation.

"Please, go rest." You gently tried to urge the inebriated follower. "You've had enough."

"Don't touch meeeeeee...I ain't-" A hiccup interrupted them as their face became redder, words so slurred you could hardly understand them. "I ain't gonna..go anywherrre.."

"I'm afraid you must, I'm sorry-"

"Nooooo...I don't wanna be handled by some...idiot who slept with the One Who Waits!"

You froze. "Pardon?"

"Whatdya see in that guy anyway? He haaaates us all..he was..gonna kill us, right? And Lamby, too?" They grumbled, now sounding completely serious and irate. "Why don't you wanna be with Lamby? Or me? Or someone who isn't a monster...do ya hate us, too?"

"No, I don't hate anyone." You tried to reassure them. "But it's rude to speak of Narinder that way."

"But his stupid siblings..they...they hurt us so much because of him!" Tears began filling their eyes, their expression growing angrier. "Why did they have to come? What they did to us...was 'cuz of HIM! EVERYTHING is his fault!!!"

"I hear your pain, my friend. I really do. But Lamb believed-"

"WHAT ABOUT WHAT I BELIEVE?!" They raised their empty glass in a threatening manner, and you flinched, taking your hands off their robe in preparation for an attack.

But before anything could happen-

A black paw grabbed their wrist, claws digging into their flesh. Not enough to draw blood, but just enough to make it hurt and divert their attention to a certain angry feline.

"How irritating.." A trio of red eyes pierced through Narinder's veil as he scowled down at the follower. "I don't know whether you're more annoying now or when you're sober. You may scorn Lamb to your heart's content..but to threaten my spouse is a line you'll regret ever crossing. Now go lie down before I make you."

With a nod and a quiet whimper, they shakily set the glass down on the counter. And the moment he let their wrist go, they took off stumbling all the way to their shelter.

You frowned a little. "Darling, it's my job to lead them to-"

"They'll find their own way. Whatever they break can be fixed in no time." Narinder dismissed as he went to clean off the glass, while you plugged up the beer kegs for the night.

But as he rubbed and twisted the rag, he began thinking about what might've happened had he not intervened when he did..and it only made him angrier.

What if the glass was still full and they decided to spill it?

What if they threw it at your head?

What if they left tiny shards in your flesh and caused blood to pour down your face?

What if-?

*crack*

A sudden sharp pain in his paw pad made him wince slightly, realizing that the cup broke apart, a piece of glass now embedded in his own flesh.

Great.

"Oh no, let me take care of that for you, love."

He perked up at your voice, seeing you pull out a pair of tweezers and a roll of bandages from your robe pocket. "I can do it myself, you know."

"And risk getting more blood on the counter?" You pointed out the red splatters on the oak. "Heavens no."

Narinder chuffed, eventually turning his paw over and allowing you to tend to his injury. "Why do you allow them to speak to you that way? And being drunk is no excuse. They knew damn well what they were saying. They've disproved of our relationship from the start."

"So have plenty of others, including your own siblings, Nari. They'll come around eventually. I have all the faith in them."

"[Y/n]..they almost smashed a glass over your head. And I stopped them from doing so." He growled, frustrated at your lack of outrage. "You are content in letting such disrespect continue without punishment? Without consulting Lamb? If we cannot do anything about it, surely they can."

"I will let it go this one time. But only because I believe they won't do it again. I think they learned their lesson thanks to you." You simply reassured him, before you finished wrapping the gauze around his paw.

With a smile, you brought it up to your lips and kissed it, eyes flickering up to him. "You needn't worry, my darling. I am okay."

"...I'm not worrying about anything." Narinder scoffed, having difficulty hiding the blush beneath his fur. "I simply refuse to tolerate imbeciles who make obscene assumptions about us, thinking there'd be no repercussions."

"Of course, but in any case..thank you for coming to my defense."

"Hm.."

"Now come." You gently tugged him away from the drinkhouse, looping your arm around his. "I believe we have some farming plots to attend to. I promised Lamb I'd work on them in Leshy's steed, but what say...you pick out the seeds you wish to plant this time?"

Narinder's ears perked. "Hah. I thought you were about to tell me to gather fertilizer." He chuckled quietly. "You are too good to me sometimes."

"Well, I figured you could use a break. Come, come!"

And so he followed you to the farming area. While he could sense Heket still staring at him, knowing her grin was smug as ever, he didn't care about what she was thinking--or what anybody in the cult was thinking for that matter.

All that he cared about right now was vegetation would prosper best on this warm spring day.

[drewsbuzzcut]

Standing On The Sun And I Don’t Feel A Thing

mat barzal x model!fem!reader

a visceral in doses fic

warnings: hospitals, miscarriages, mentions pain, nausea, and blood, mentions abortion, mentions panic attacks, grief, anger, some angst, and mat being kind of mean, also mentions trying for a baby and I think that’s all (pls let me know if I missed any)

this takes place september 2030

“Where are the kids?” You ask, voice hoarse and eyes puffy.

“Shhh shhh. The kids are with Bev. Baby, what happened? I got a call from the hospital and I went straight to drop the kids off, thank god Beverly was home,” Mat takes a seat next to the side of the hospital bed. He brings your hand into his and you can tell he’s been crying.

“I-“ you start but stop as you start coughing.

“You need some water,” he presses the call button that alerts the nurse.

After a few sips of water, you close your eyes to try to gather your thoughts about all that you could remember.

“This morning, after I got to the photo shoot, I started feeling nauseous and my lower back was in a lot of pain. I just thought I was about to start my period. I don’t really remember anything after that. I think I remember seeing blood and then everyone started freaking out. Eventually everything went black,” you recall the foggy events that led you here.

“Do you know what happened? Did the doctor come to talk to you?” He asks but tries to hide his frantic state.

“I just woke up. I’m still in pain. I don’t know what’s going on. I’m scared, Maty,” you grip his hand really tight, bringing his palm up to your cheek for warmth and comfort.

“It’s going to be okay, baby. I love you. I’m here and you’re going to be okay,” he whispers against your forehead, willing his tears to go away.

A knock sounds on the door and Mat tells them that they can come in. The look on the doctor’s face makes you go pale.

“Is everything okay? Am I okay?” You ask warily.

“It’s nothing too serious, but I regret to inform you that you’re miscarrying at the moment,” the words fade out, your head fuzzy and heart pounding.

“I’m sorry what?” Mat says in shock.

You try to take deep breaths but everything feels shallow.

“Mrs. Barzal, you’re going through a miscarriage which is why you are experiencing severe pain and were bleeding earlier. We do, however, want to perform an ultrasound to confirm,” the doctor says in an eerie tone.

Tears spring to your eyes and you shake your head. This cannot be happening. The nausea returns and twists at your abdomen.

“That’s not possible,” you whisper.

“It’s what your blood test is telling us. We’re going to take you to a different room for your ultrasound,” the doctor says along with some other information before they leave the room.

“Oh my god,” you cover your face with your hands and throw your head back.

“I love you,” Mat kisses your forehead.

“This can’t be happening,” is the only thing you say.

An hour later it’s confirmed that your body is going through a miscarriage, and you feel like everything beneath your feet has been taken from you. You feel so empty and you didn’t even know you were pregnant.

You close your eyes and force yourself to fall asleep, but even then your mind still reels at the events of the day. Not even Mat’s hesitant touch can help you feel better.

“Y/n, wake up,” you hear Mat whisper softly in your ear a couple hours later.

You blink your eyes, the blinding light of the room making your head hurt.

“The doctor said that you will be discharged in about an hour,” he informs you, but you honestly just hear static.

Everything from that point on is a blur of unshed tears and horrific thoughts. The shrill sound of your babies wanting to be in your arms when you get home momentarily distracts you, but that emptiness lingers. You try to distract yourself with being a mom and setting up dates with your close friends. You move throughout the house, cleaning every surface over and over again to keep you sane. You go through about 4 wooden pencils as you write and write until you’re snapping each pencil in half with your strong grip. You take extra long showers to wash away each trace of grief that may be left on your body.

After a week of feeling like a robot, you start to feel every emotion you’ve been trying to push down come back up. It doesn’t help that Mat pulled himself away from you. You don’t remember the last time you had a full conversation that didn’t revolve around your kids or random topics that warranted a 30 second talk. You cancel all plans and lock yourself in the guest bedroom.

The empty feeling spreads from your stomach all over your entire body. How could you not know you were pregnant? Why wasn’t your body strong enough to keep them alive? Why did you feel so alone despite Mat being a father and a mother all while he’s trying to help you?

You sob your eyes out and twist in agony, because each time you feel like you might be okay, you’re reminded that your body failed you. No one prepares you for what it feels like to lose something you didn’t even know you could lose. You hate yourself for feeling this way, because it’s selfish when you already have kids and a husband. A family that’s already felt complete, but now it just feels broken.

It takes several phone calls to your therapist before you feel like you can function without your heart aching every second. You realized that you need your babies’ hugs and kisses. You needed to feel some kind of love.

You attempt to put back all of your broken pieces by playing with your children or napping with them. Simply just being around them puts a smile on your face. You start to feel yourself come around more. You start hanging out with friends again and laughing and feeling anything but sadness. You try to be more positive in situations you’d automatically become upset with.

The only thing that’s keeping you down is Mat. He’s become really good at being just a roommate. He’ll work with you when it comes to the kids, but other than that the space between you both feels like miles rather than inches. You’ve let him keep to himself, because you’re not sure how he’s coping with what happened- especially because you’ve locked yourself away for the past week or so.

Eventually you get tired of his silence and pressure him into talking to you.

“What’s going on?” You ask one night when he’s just getting out of the shower.

“What are you talking about?”

You stay silent for a minute and just watch him. His face conveys nonchalance, but his body is rigid.

“You know what I’m talking about, babe. Why have you been so distant with me? Is it because I’ve been sad? I’m better now and even if I wasn’t, you can still talk to me,” you say, walking up to him and putting a hand on his shoulder.

His body stiffens and he slowly moves away from your touch.

That really hurts.

“It’s not about that, Y/n. Believe it or not, I’m not feeling this way because you were or are sad,” he blurts out.

He continues to move around the room, getting dressed and putting on lotion.

“Okay. So what’s wrong? Why are you being pissy with me?”

“Like you don’t know,” he says.

“Obviously I don’t. Why do you think I’m asking?” He’s really starting to make you mad.

“How could you not tell me?” He finally asks.

“Not tell you what? I’m so confused right now,” you tug on your hair and shut your eyes, trying to come up with the missing details.

“How could you not tell me that you were pregnant? I had to find out by seeing you in the hospital because you were having a miscarriage,” he just about shouts and it makes you flinch.

“I didn’t even know I was pregnant. I was just as in the dark as you were. I would’ve told you if I was pregnant. I can’t believe you’d think that I’d keep something like that from you,” you explain with your voice and head low.

“Shit. I- I’m sorry. I just assumed that you knew and I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry. I love you,” he gathers you in his arms and just holds you.

“I’m sorry I pushed everyone away. I just needed some time to think about things and to be sad,” you say through tears.

“It’s okay. I love you,” he kisses your temple.

“I love you.”

Later that night you’re both in bed, cuddling and basking in the comfortable silence.

“Mat?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“I think you should get snipped,” you voice your most recent thought.

“What?” He questions because he’s not sure if he’s hearing things.

“I really think you should get a vasectomy,” you reiterate.

“Wait… why?”

You adjust in his grip so you can fully face him. Your hand goes to rest on his cheek and you thumb at his skin.

“I think I’m done with having babies. We have 3 and I think that’s enough,” you say.

“No. That’s not what I meant. I mean why do I have to be the one to get the procedure done?”

“Well why not?” You ask back.

“I can’t get that because I have to be sharp for hockey. I can’t spend weeks just lazing around during a recovery period, you know that. You should get your tubes tied,” he explains and you let out a scoff.

You move away from him and get off the bed in favor of pacing around the room.

“I’ve held each of our babies inside of me for 9 months. I breastfed all of them. I just had a miscarriage for a baby I didn’t even know existed. My body is constantly changing. That’s not always an ideal situation for my career, especially because my body is an important aspect of my job. Hell, I’m practically art! So, no, I’m not going to be the one to get my tubes tied,” you rant, eyes squinted and a frown wrinkling your forehead.

“I thought that’s why you started taking classes at Pratt, so modeling wouldn’t be the only thing you have going for you?” He replies, subtly putting words in your mouth.

Your every feature turns down in a sad and disappointed pout. You honestly didn’t see this conversation going in this direction. The whiplash is unreal.

“That’s not what I was aiming for when I decided to take some classes. You’re being a real ass right now,” you bite.

“I’m being an ass? What about you? You just assumed that I don’t want any more kids. You know, I want you to at least want one of them, because if you haven’t noticed you really didn’t want either of them,” he spits out, face red as a tomato.

That makes you cry. That assumption that you never wanted your kids makes you die on the inside.

“At first, you wanted to get an abortion with Nolan,” he says when you stay silent.

You cross your arms over your chest and cock up an eyebrow, daring him to continue.

“You didn’t really want Angel. I remember you saying that you didn’t want any more kids after Nolan,” he adds.

You glare at him in return.

“Lastly, you said you didn’t really like the timing of Sloane and I can’t blame you, because you went and broke up with me and then hid it from me. No wonder I thought you hid this one, too,” Mat rips into you, voice laced with venom.

“You listen to me, Mathew Barzal, if I really didn’t want to have our kids, I wouldn’t have had them. Believe me when I say that. Of course I wanted our kids. Was I scared out of my mind each pregnancy? Yes! Would I take them back? Hell no. I love our babies, so for you to say that really sucks,” you respond, wiping away your tears.

He just shakes his head in return.

“I’m scared of pregnancy. I just lost a baby and you expect me to want to try for another one? I don’t know if I can do that for you, for us,” you correct your last couple of words before he can turn them into something else.

He watches you, staying silent as you fall apart at his feet.

“Is this going to be the end of us?” You ask.

“Why is it always a breakup with you? Is that what you really want? Deep down, do you really not want to be with me?” He accuses.

“No! I just feel like you don’t love me, so I’m not going to beg you to stay if that’s not what you want. I can’t even give you a baby, so there’s that,” you admit.

“I lost the baby, too,” Mat points out.

“I know that, Mathew. I know, but you don’t understand what it’s like as a mother to go through a loss like that. My body should be capable of growing a life. Then you go and say that I didn’t even want my kids. You don’t know what it feels like to feel so utterly empty and alone. It doesn’t matter that I didn’t know that they existed, because as a mother, I should’ve known,” you whisper as your voice starts to become strained.

You feel your chest start to cave in on you and the lack of support makes your knees buckle. You go straight to the floor, tucking your knees into your chest for some kind of stability. You’ve never seen Mat so upset. You’ve never been on the receiving end of it. Part of you is mad at him for the way he’s talking to you, but another part of you understands. This whole miscarriage has turned your world upside down. You’d be naive to think that it wouldn’t affect him too.

“Baby, don’t cry. It wasn’t your fault. I love you, always. I promise it’s going to be okay,” he wraps you in his arms and squeezes you to his chest. He beats himself up for the way his words caused you to crumble. Seeing you break after already being broken down snaps him out of his anger. His word vomit just spewed out, but maybe it was a good thing because everything was out on the table.

You don’t blame him, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.

He doesn’t know it, but the beat of his heart does wonders to calm you down before you can have a panic attack.

“Do you hate me?” You lock your hands behind his neck, desperate to have him pressed to you in any way possible.

“Never. I’m sorry I made you feel like I did. I swear I would never hate you,” he rubs your back.

“You said I didn’t want our babies,” you get out through the remnants of your cries.

“Do you really feel that way? Be honest,” you speak again.

“Part of me used to feel that way, but every time I see you with our babies, I see how much you love them. You’re the best mama bear to our little loves. I wouldn’t have had kids with you, if I felt certain that you didn’t want them. I was just being an asshole,” he whispers into your temple.

You sniffle at his response, feeling another bout of tears ready to fall because you never knew he felt that way.

“Are you sad about the miscarriage?” You need his feelings to be transparent.

“Yeah. A lot more than I thought I would be. I’m also angry, because you shouldn’t have had to go through that. I should’ve known you were pregnant, maybe things would be different,” he answers honestly.

“It’s not your fault either. This is just a really sucky thing,” you try to comfort him, but you can see the tears in his eyes and the way his bottom lip wobbles.

“I’m sorry for being mean. I can’t take it back, but just know that I love you so much,” he finally cries.

You pull him closer, hand caressing his neck and back and you kiss his cheeks.

“We’ll work through it. We always do. Do you really want another baby?” You look into his eyes.

“I do. One more baby barzal, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to because I made you feel bad about an insecurity I have,” he admits, thumb wiping away your tears. His forehead leans against yours and for the first time in a couple of weeks, you feel whole.

“Insecurity?” It’s the first you’re ever hearing about it and it shocks you to your core. For as long as you’ve known Mat he’s always been the secure and stable one.

“I sometimes thought you were just having kids to please me and not because you were ready to have them. I guess I was feeling insecure about our age gap. I finally got somewhat of an understanding of what you used to feel like,” he explains and you feel guilty for never realizing.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me? I could’ve soothed your worries a long time ago. Like I said, I had our babies because I wanted to.”

“I thought I could get away with it, but I guess it just bubbled up until I couldn't hold it in anymore. I promise to come to you whenever I get an insecurity, or just any little problem really. You’re my wife, I need you all the time,” he pulls you in for a kiss. You try to kiss every single one of his worries away.

“I would like to purposely try to make a baby, but I don’t know when I’ll be ready. Just have some patience with me,” you say into his mouth.

He shakes his head.

“I don’t want to pressure you into having another baby if that’s not something you want to do.”

“Mat, baby, you’re not pressuring me into anything. I’ve been having some baby fever lately. Miss Sloane is getting older, so it’d be nice to have another baby,” you assure him.

“Whenever you’re ready, I’m ready,” he says, pulling you into a kiss.

“I love you. We’re going to get through this,” you promise him. And you will,, no doubt about it.

Being riddled with grief and guilt- that can only come from the way you both acted towards each other- will make you both stronger in the end. Stronger as individuals, as a couple, and as parents. You’re just glad you’re going through it all with your husband by your side. It’s Mathew or no one, and it’s safe to say that he feels the same way.

a/n: Looks like mat and model!reader have some therapy and lots of talking to do before they fix everything. As always, hope y’all enjoy!