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evielmostdefinitely · 1 year ago

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a hazy shade of winter |young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader|

prompt: wedding nuptials and coriolanus' upcoming inauguration, leads to press.

my first work lol <3 reader's surname is "duke" for the series. i picture the duke family being a rothschild similar type if that makes sense???

contains: possessive snow, nothing too graphic, he's manipulative and a little dark. established relationship. mentions of corio's mom. alludes to smut but none.

Coriolanus stared back at his own reflection, fastening the buttons to his shirt. A nicer fabric, Tigris still selected it but did not have to mend it together like before. No, now the Snow’s were back in power, still climbing that ladder of socialites and success- thanks to you.

A small rapping on the door pulled his attention. “Just a moment.” Corio huffed, looking at the clock. Flickerman’s producer said nine sharp, he still had twenty minutes.

The rapping didn’t stop, following again, heavier this time. Corio’s spine straightened, icy with fear. His mind raced with possibilities- a rebel outside the door, here to kill him; or perhaps it was the guards, they’d found the guns he threw in the river years ago and we're here for him too.

Corio reached for his own weapon, slinking to the door, peeking under the crack. Two white heels.

“Corio,” Your voice whispered, a hint of a giggle. “Let me in, Corio.”

Coriolanus relaxed, setting the weapon down, tucked under his jacket. The door opened, you in your pristine white outfit, the sapphire fixture on your ring finger. “What are you doing?” Corio scanned the hall. “You’re supposed to be in your dressing room.”

“Tigris finished with me.” You waved him off, slipping under his arm into his own dressing room. “She went to join my parents in the audience, and I wanted to see you.” You hum, eyes rolling down his frame.

Corio scoffed lightly, shutting the door. “This is improper.”

“I think they’ll forgive us, Corio.” You giggle. “We are married.” Your hand laid gently against his chest, smoothing out a crease on his collar, engagement ring sparkling even in the low light of the room.

Corio’s hand found yours, admiring the ring himself. His mother’s ring turned yours, one of the few items he had left of hers- that they hadn’t lost or sold to stay afloat. He added the halo of diamonds. After all, he was marrying into the Duke family, he needed it to be flashy- to be worthy.

“We’re not married yet, my love.” Corio muttered, thumb swiping over the ring. “Still two more sleeps.”

“And a press conference,” You sighed, leaning into his soft touch. “And a press tour.”

It had been your father’s idea. Coriolanus was to be President come the new term, and since marrying into Panem’s wealthiest, the press tour to each District seemed fitting. The communication was less and less now, Corio wanted to keep it that way, but have them still feel involved. Your father loved the idea.

“Mmm, but a solo press tour.” Corio hummed, nose brushing against yours gently. “Just us for weeks, days on the train. By ourselves.” His voice rapeseed, tone dropping to that dark octave that left you squirming, tummy flipping with excitement.

“We won’t really be alone.” You pouted, lip jutting in a petulant sort of sulk. It made Corio’s lip twitch. “There will be the peacekeepers and guards and Tigris and-”

“-But we’ll have a whole carriage to ourselves. A private one. I’ve made sure of it.” Coriolanus nodded, the pad of his thumb brushing over your lip. “Just for us. A honeymoon before we come back.”

You smiled softly, hands raking up the soft fabric of his shirt, careful not to bunch or wrinkle the fabric- you knew how much he hated that. Corio’s hands found your waist, pulling you into him, lips slotting over yours. He always took the lead, and you’d let him, his domineering personality never settling even in moments of intimacy.

Two sharp knocks pulled the two of you away, Coriolanus pausing rigidly. “Come in,” You called, your hand moving respectfully to his arm, smoothing out your skirt.

“Ah, the love birds.” Lucky Flickerman grinned. “See, Juno, I told you they’d be together, and it looks like they’re decent.”

Corio’s face swelled with heat, mouth settling in a fine, thin line. Once he was sworn into oath, he’d have his tongue cut out for that vulgar comment. Your hand squeezed his bicep lightly, soothingly.

“So, I wanted to give you the run down before we are live on the air to all of Panem.” Lucky grinned, you knew he was smug at his rising fame. “President Snow and the First Lady… Do you want me to address you as Snow or Duke?”

“Snow.” Corio hissed before you could respond. His hand was firm on your waist, pulling you possessively into him. “She is a Snow, now.”

Lucky blinked, awkwardly cutting his eyes to you. “Right. So President and First Lady Snow, we’ll talk about the wedding- the dress, the ring, the proposal, the details, the guest list. Really lean into that, ok? Get the viewers excited for the district press tour after.”

You nodded, Lucky’s droning instructions a blur to you. Your eyes caught sight of your and Coriolanus in the mirror. How tall he stood next to you, proud and boasted- powerful. He always had his chin held high, looking down his nose at others. You were just glad he had lessened the way he’d glare down at you, traded it in for a softer side you weren’t sure you’d ever see.

His hand stayed on the small of your back, respectfully, but holding that same ownership, leading you through the small studio. “You look beautiful.” Corio whispered, pushing a loose strand of hair back into place, tucking it behind your ear.

You blushed under his praise, looking down at your white kitten heels. “Don’t do that.” Corio frowned, hand pressing into the middle of your spine. “Stand up, darling. Don’t hide from them. Let them know.”

You followed him out, hand in hand, waving to the studio audience under blinding lights. Since the success of the Hunger Games, the donors- your family included- had poured in money to have the studio revamped. Something nice, more enticing. Your father and mother sat next to Tigris. Your fathers eyes were narrowed, watchful in nearly a predatory sense, a warning to the both of you.

“Mr. and Mr. Snow,” Lucky grinned, a toothy smile that dazzled under the lights. “Or so it will be soon, yes? The wedding is…”

“In two days.” Coriolanus nodded, shoulders squared, eyes sparkling, his hand rested on your knee.

“Marvelous, just marvelous. And what a beautiful couple they are, aren’t they?” Lucky turned to the audience, nodding at their applause.

You felt hot, skin boiling under the harsh lights, under your father and Corio’s even harsher stares. The pressure to not falter, not even for a moment, was making you dizzy. Do not stutter, sit up straight, smile.

“And don’t forget, President Snow and his First Lady will be making their way to each of the Districts out there before the Inauguration and of course, before the fifteenth Hunger Games.” Lucky called exaggeratedly, clapping with his cards with the audience. “Don’t forget to join us for the reapings, it’s only a month away, folks. And as always, Panem today, Panem tomorrow, and Panem forever.”

A pause and it was done. The lights went up, producers nodding, pulling out screens and wires. You looked to Coriolanus, but his attention was elsewhere.

“That was amazing.” Tigris greeted you with a warm smile. “You did not have to mention me as your designer. I told you to say the company-”

“-The company didn’t design my dress, you did.” You nodded, squeezing her arm affectionately. “And I’m not letting that bitter, miserable woman get the credit that you deserved, Tigris.”

Tigris beamed, hugging you briefly, before your father made his slow approach, your mother on his arm. He took slow, calculated steps, looking nearly bored, unimpressed. It made Corio’s heart race- he wanted to mimic it, perfect it to have the same reaction.

“My girl,” Your father gave a half smile, lips curling in nearly a snarl. “You did wonderful.”

“Thank you,” You nodded politely. “I was afraid I spoke too much.”

“Nonsense,” Your mother waved you off lightly, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “You did marvelous.” Her eyes cut over to Coriolanus. “You as well, dear.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Duke.” Corio nodded, hands clasped behind his back respectfully.

“Are you happy, boy?” Your father looked at Corio, eyes beady and sharpened. “Excited for the wedding? The inauguration?” It was no secret your father and his pull were behind the election, Corio knew that.

“Of course,” Corio nodded, his hand finding yours gently, squeezing it. “I’m overjoyed, Mr. Duke. Moreso for the wedding, of course, but the inauguration as well. It will be hard to replace President Ravinstill but-”

Your father lifted his hand. “Save it, boy. This isn’t a political rally, you’ve already won.” He scoffed, shaking his head. You didn’t miss the way Coriolauns stiffened, his grip tightening on your hand. “As long as you keep my daughter happy, then you have my support.”

“Thank you, sir.” Corio forced out a smile through clenched teeth.

“The rehearsal dinner is tomorrow. At the Trinket Estate Gardens, dear.” Your mother nodded at you, like you’d forget.

“I’ll see you then.” You hugged her briefly. “Thank you for coming.”

“Of course, darling girl.” Your father hugged you, pressing a chaste kiss to the top of your head. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

He shook Corio’s hand firmly, a shake and a head nod before they were both whisked off, chatting to his other friends who showed. Corio wished he would have introduced him to a few, helped him build a rapport that way. There would be time, he reminded himself.

“Tigris,” You held Corio’s arm, craning around him towards his cousin on his other arm. “The white rose was a lovely touch.” You smiled, looking down at your corsage.

“Oh, that was Coriolanus’ idea.” Tigris hummed, looking at the blonde next to her. “He wanted you to have that.”

You beamed, looking up at your fiance. “You wanted me to have it?”

“I thought it was a nice touch.” Corio hummed, glancing down at you. “Thought you would enjoy it.”

“I do,” You mutter, lifting his hand to yours, lips brushing across his knuckles. Normally, he’d scold you for doing it in public. He was against any signs of PDA, a sign of weakness, he said. But he allowed it, even blushing from underneath his stiff collar.

“Save the I do’s for tomorrow.” Tigris grinned playfully at you. “What are you doing on your last night as a Duke? Going to District Two?”

Coriolanus glared at her, jaw set firmly. You shook your head lightly. “Packing.” You sighed. “We leave from the reception straight to the train.”

“Oh, I can help you-”

“-That’s alright.” You shake your head politely. “It’s just a few things. Sleepwear, toiletries- minimal things. But thank you.”

Tigris nodded back, pulling from Coriolanus gently. “I’ll wait for you in the car?”

“Go ahead without us.” Corio nodded. “We have to speak to a few sponsors after.”

Tigris nodded, waving goodbye to the both of you politely. You stepped into Corio’s dressing room, smoothing out your skirt. “We have to speak to sponsors?” You hummed, reaching for your zipper. “I thought you already did that?”

“I did.” Corio’s tone was chilling, clicking the lock to the door behind you. You stilled, eyes catching his gaze through the mirror.

Coriolanus stepped towards you, slow, calculated, with heavy footsteps. He grinned, satisfied, at how you shivered. His hands moved yours, unzipping your dress slowly. You stayed still, watching him for any sign of what was to come. You knew he’d never hurt you, purposefully, never risk what would happen if he laid a hand on you. Still, Corio was unpredictable- you hated the way it excited you.

“I just wanted a moment alone with my wife.” Corio’s breath was hot on the shell of your ear, shuddering under his touch when he pushed the fabric off your shoulders, exposing you. Bruising love bites on your chest from the night before. You wondered if his back still bore your long scratches from where you’d clawed and raked at his skin.

“‘M not your wife yet, Corio.” You met his gaze, rounded eyes that had his cock twitching. “Still another two sleeps.” You repeated his words from earlier, the tiniest grin on your lips.

“How do you want to spend your last night as a Duke, my love?” Corio’s lips ghosted over the skin of your cheek, hands gripping your waist.

“With you.” You whispered, leaning back against him. “I want to spend it with you, Coriolanus.”

Corio grinned, salacious and satisfied, fingers splaying over your jaw, holding you while he kissed you, slowly, passionately. Your pristine dress was on the floor, his hands in your hair, legs tangled around his waist while he melted you with every hot kiss.

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mind-empty-just-fictional-people · 7 months ago

Text

Trust

main masterlist | the boys masterlist

summary: soldier boy doesn’t realize just how scared of him you truly are

pairing: soldier boy x female reader

rating: R for language, mature themes

word count: 5.2k

warnings: please read! language, mentions of sexual assault, attempted sexual assault, drugging, violence, forced purging (to prevent possible death), briefly mentioned nudity (not in a smutty way), much darker than anything i’ve published before

author’s note: this started out as a small idea but i got really carried away lol.

another note: sorry for kinda ghosting after uploading the last fic, my brain hates me 🙃 i can’t promise i won’t “disappear” again like immediately after uploading this so thank you in advance for any/all feedback/comments 💞💞

It was late at night (more like early morning) when you were arguing with Butcher at the door.

“Don’t you dare leave me here alone with him!” you seethed.

“C’mon, love, the old cunt’s gonna be asleep the whole time I’m gone.”

Your teeth clenched at the idea of being alone in the house with Soldier Boy, but if Billy didn’t go now to “run an errand” he’d probably have to go later that day anyway.

“Fine,” you sighed. “But if ‘the old cunt’ lays a fucking finger on me I swear to god Butcher!”

“I’ll be back by nine.”

A loud knock on your door woke you up.

“Hey! Sweetheart!” Soldier Boy’s voice shouted from the other side. “You up?”

“I am now,” you mumbled to yourself angrily. 7:26 your clock read.

“I heard that,” Soldier Boy said.

Shit, you thought. “What do you want?”

“The stupid TV isn’t fuckin’ working, I need you to come and work your magic for me.”

You sighed. You couldn’t ignore him at this point, that’d most likely just anger him further. If he wanted to he’d just break down the door and drag you out to the living room.

“C’mon toots, don’t be a bitch about it,” he exclaimed.

“Screw you,” you mumbled.

“Hey!” Soldier Boy exclaimed. “What’d I just fuckin’ say!” He tried opening the door but you’d obviously locked it.

“I-I’ll be out in a second,” you told him.

“That’s more like it,” he mumbled back.

You quickly got out of bed (whole outfit still on, just in case Soldier Boy had tried something in the night) and hurried to the door before you opened it. There he stood, the strongest man alive. You gulped nervously as he didn’t move and stayed blocking your way out.

He eyed you up and down obnoxiously, smirking at the sight and making your heart beat faster.

“Same outfit as last night, I see,” he said.

“S-So?” you asked, trying to mask the pure fear this man instilled in you. “I just like these clothes, is all.” He didn’t say anything, just kept smirking at you. “You’re wearing the same clothes as yesterday, too, you know!”

“So you have been checking me out.” He nodded a little, the smirk still on his face.

“Did you want me to help you with the TV or did you just wake me up to be a dick?”

“TV,” he grumbled, “but would it kill you to be polite once in a while?”

“Would it kill you to move out of the way so I can head downstairs?”

He furrowed his brows before he rolled his eyes and stepped to the side; “After you, princess,” he mocked. You left your bedroom and he followed you downstairs to where the perfectly functioning TV hung on the wall.

You hated the way Soldier Boy eyed you as you took the remote out from the cabinet beside the TV and turned it on.

“It seems to be working fine?” you said, wanting to take his attention off of your ass. “What were you trying to watch?”

“Uh…how bout you pick something for us?” he offered.

“Excuse me?” you practically scoffed.

“C’mon, sit down and watch with me,” he said. You turned around, expecting to see him sitting on the couch, but he was now standing about a yard away from you. “Butcher seems to be gone…” He took a step towards you. “We’ve got the whole house to ourselves…” Another step. “Why don’t we have some fun?” He reached out and lightly touched your cheek, traced down the side of your face, and tilted your chin up to look him in the eyes.

“Soldier Boy—”

“I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at me,” he interrupted you. “I know your heart starts racing when I walk into a room, I know it beats even faster when I get close. I know you want me, don’t even try to fuckin’ deny it.”

“P-Please—”

“Oh, I like a woman who knows when to beg,” he chuckled lowly as he bent down to kiss you.

“Please don’t hurt me, please,” you said quickly, tears stinging your eyes as they threatened to fall. “I-I’m sorry I’ve been such a bitch to you, I-I didn’t mean it! Please don’t kill me!”

“Kill you?” He stood up straight, pulling his hand up off your face and putting it up in defense. “Kill you?” There was a moment of silence as he intensely looked at your reaction to him getting so close. “You…You’re scared of me, aren’t you?”

You nodded slightly, worried you might upset him as his face fell. He seemed almost saddened by the fact you didn’t want him near you.

“But…I’m a hero,” he scoffed slightly. “Why would you be scared of me?”

“Please don’t take it personally,” you said. “Just let me set up the TV for you and go back to my room…please?”

“You’re fuckin’ terrified right now, aren’t you?” he asked and again you nodded, again he scoffed.

“Can you blame me?” you asked. “I-If I rub you the wrong way you could snap my neck like a chicken bone without breaking a sweat.”

“But I…” He continued looking at you with confusion that seemed to be laced with curiosity. “I wouldn’t. I mean, I know I get angry sometimes but I’d never hurt you?”

“You wouldn’t be the first hero to turn on me,” you told him quietly. Soldier Boy paused and thought about what to do next. He’d never been in a situation like this before; standing alone with someone who was genuinely scared of him, someone that didn’t trust a hero like himself.

“Just uh… Just turn on a movie and you can go,” he said before he took a seat on the couch. “Another one from my time, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure,” you said; a small, forced smile on your lips. You found a movie you thought he’d like and pressed play for him before tossing the remote on the couch and leaving.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he called out, making you stop in your tracks. “I’m sorry you don’t trust me, but I need you to know that I’d never hurt you.”

“O-Okay, Soldier Boy,” you said before you hurried out of the room, up the stairs, and back into your room. “Billy Butcher I am going to fucking strangle you,” you mumbled to yourself.

“You’re up before noon,” Butcher remarked, seeing Soldier Boy in the living room. “And you got the TV workin’ on your own! Atta boy, gov’.”

“Actually, Y/n set it up for me,” Soldier Boy said.

Butcher sighed at that, “So, you’ve talked to her today then, huh?”

“Yeah, why?” the Supe asked before Butcher left to see you.

He knocked lightly on your door before you opened it.

“Hello—” Butcher started but a swift slap to the face shut him up pretty quickly.

“Fuck you, Butcher!”

“Did he hurt you?” Butcher asked, holding his cheek.

“No, but he almost fucking did, asshole! How dare you leave me alone with him like that!”

“Oh come off it! If you’re still in one piece then all’s well that ends well, am I right?” he said with a smirk and a shrug.

“You ever do something like that again and I swear to god William!” You stared daggers at him.

“My ‘errand’ didn’t go as planned anyways, love,” he told you. “I’ve gotta figure out another way to find where they’re hiding Homelander.”

“Or whatever’s left of him,” you mumbled.

“Alright, I’m off,” Butcher announced, a full duffle bag in his hand as he headed to the door.

“What?” you exclaimed from the kitchen as you hurried to get between him and his destination. “What’re you talking about?”

“Everything okay?” Soldier Boy asked from the couch near the TV.

“Everything’s fine, gov’, you keep watching your movie,” Butcher said.

“Can I talk to you outside for a minute?” you asked Butcher, you didn’t want Soldier Boy to hear what you were about to say.

“After you then, love,” Butcher obliged.

The second the door closed behind the two of you, you let him have it.

“Don’t you fucking dare leave me here alone with him again, I cannot fucking take it!”

“It’ll only be for a little while, you’ll be fine!” Butcher said.

“Then let me come with you!”

“What, and leave the cunt here alone? He’ll burn the house down trying to make himself a fuckin’ sandwich,” Butcher exclaimed. “He needs a fuckin’ babysitter and that’s you.”

“Why me? Why can’t you call Hughie? Or Frenchie? Or, better than all of us combined, Kimiko?” you asked.

“Hughie’s outta state, Frenchie and Kimiko are both knee-deep in shit sussing out another lead on Homelander’s whereabouts.”

You sighed heavily, you saw his point but the thought of being trapped again made your stomach hurt; “Please don’t leave me alone with him, Butcher. You know how much he fucking terrifies me, and you know exactly why.”

“I’m sorry I gotta do this to you, love, but you know he’s our only shot at killin’ Homelander once and fucking for all.”

“How long will you be gone?”

“Only a day or two.”

You again conceded, against your better judgment, and let Butcher leave you with Soldier Boy.

“What was that all about?” the Supe asked when you walked back into the house and locked the door.

You forced a smile; “Nothing, Soldier Boy,” you said, “dinner will be ready soon.”

You didn’t know Soldier Boy heard everything you and Butcher had said.

“Looks great, toots.” Soldier Boy walked up behind you in the kitchen, not missing the flinch you threw when he got a little too close.

“Thanks,” you mumbled.

“You still that scared of me?” he asked, leaning on the counter and trying to get you to look up at him.

“If you can hear my heart, I’m sure you’ve got something that can smell my fear too.”

“I know I make your heart race, your breathing becomes slightly quicker when I get close, and I’ve noticed your pupils tend to change when you notice I’m next to you.”

“So why is my fear such a fuckin’ surprise, then?” you scoffed.

“I guess I didn’t realize it was fear making your heart race and your pupils dilate slightly.”

“What, you thought I was into you or something?” you asked half-heartedly before you looked over at him and realized that was exactly what he had thought. “Oh.”

“So, yeah, I was surprised when I realized you didn’t like havin’ me around,” he admitted. You almost felt guilty for a moment but it quickly disappeared as you remembered why you were scared of him in the first place. “Can you at least tell me why, though?” he asked as you shoveled his food onto a plate. “Why are you so scared of me? I get that I’m stronger than you but, no offense, isn’t Butcher too? Isn’t like… almost every man out there?”

“One, I trust Butcher. I’ve known him for years and he’s been nothing but good; he’s an asshole, sure, but he’s good when it counts. And two, I don’t spend time alone with ‘almost every man out there’ so that does not help your case at all.” You handed him the plate. “Here’s your food.”

“Thanks, dollface.” He took it from you and you started getting your own plate ready. He watched your every move and his brows knitted with confusion as he did so.

“You can go sit down,” you told him. “You don’t need to watch me like a hawk.”

“I’m sorry, I’m just still tryin’ to figure you out I guess.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you scoffed.

“You know I’m a hero, right? I’m a superhero, and I would never hurt you?”

“Look, no offense, but the last time I trusted a Supe it really didn’t turn out well and I’m not gonna let myself give you even an inch of trust because you are even stronger than the last guy.”

“What happened? What’d he do?” Soldier Boy asked and you didn’t respond. “C’mon, you owe me that much! I’ve been nothing but good to you, yet you’re treating me like I did whatever this other Supe did to you!”

“I don’t owe you shit, Soldier Boy,” you snapped and you could’ve sworn you saw genuine hurt flash over his features. “If you must know, it was The Deep. I trusted him, let him be good to me, and it all blew up in my face in the most awful way I could’ve imagined.”

“I’m sorry, honey.” He reached out to touch your shoulder but you flinched away from him.

“Please, don’t touch me. I get that you’re trying to be sweet or whatever but please don’t. It’s not doing what you think it’s doing, Soldier Boy.”

He nodded and backed away slightly.

“My name’s Ben,” he told you. You looked at him with a sense of shock. “My real name’s Ben, you don’t have to say ‘Soldier Boy’ all the time, you can just say ‘Ben’.”

“Okay, Ben, while we’re on the topic of names, you could ease up on the ‘toot’s and ‘doll’s and ‘dollface’s and ‘honey’s and ‘sweetheart’s you know. Or at the very least stick to one pet name.”

He smiled at your honesty, hoping it was a sign you might be scared of him just a tad less.

“Think I’ll just stick to callin’ you sweetheart, then,” he replied.

“Thank god, I was really starting to hate dolls.”

That made him laugh deeply before he walked to the table and took his seat.

Don’t you fucking dare, you thought to yourself when you felt a feeling of almost-not-absolute-fear-and-disgust wash over you for a split second.

“Look, I’m sorry, but—”

“You’re sorry?” you scoffed into the phone. “Butcher get the fucking hell back here!”

“I can’t, I’ve gotta spend another night over here. Apparently—”

“I don’t give a rat's ass why you have to stay, I am begging you to please get back here now!” Tears were stinging your eyes as your voice cracked.

“I’m sorry—”

“If he does anything to me, anything at all, I’ll never fucking forgive you for leaving me alone with him, Butcher. You understand me, William? Never!”

“He’s not gonna hurt you,” Butcher sighed. “Just keep your distance and be nice to him. He does have a bit of a temper, maybe he just needs to relieve some tension…”

“That’s not funny!” You gritted your teeth as a few tears slipped down your cheeks. “When are you getting back here?”

“A few more days,” he replied.

Before he said another word you hung up on him, furious that he thought it was okay to leave you alone with Soldier Boy.

Though the Supe was in his own room upstairs, he still heard every word you said. He’d never admit it, but his heart clenched at the thought of how scared you were right now.

It had been over a week since you’d seen him when Butcher finally got back with some new information on Homelander’s location. He had a plan to find the exact coordinates and he wasn’t going to let his morals get in the way.

“Well, well, you clean up nice,” Butcher commented when you stepped out of the bathroom.

“Shut up,” you grumbled. You were wearing a short royal blue dress with a deep v-neckline and almost no back, the silver heels and necklace tied the otherwise seemingly plain outfit together nicely. “If this stupid plan of yours gets me killed I’m gonna come back and haunt you for the rest of your fuckin’ life.”

“Wow,” Ben beamed when he walked out of his room and saw you standing in the hall with Butcher. “You look incredible, sweetheart.”

“I look like a damn hooker,” you said.

“That’s the idea, love.” Butcher smirked.

A high-ranking Vought employee had been seen at a certain bar almost every night for the last two months and it was now your job to get him to trust you. If he trusted you enough, he would take you back to his place and you could find out any and all information he had on Homelander.

The plan seemed simple enough, yet Ben seemed more anxious about the situation than you were.

“Are you sure this is safe?” Soldier Boy asked when you were all seated in the van outside the bar.

“No, but if this helps us get Homelander then it’s safe enough,” you told him.

“Besides, you’ll be in there with her,” Butcher reminded him. “And if you stay focused on keeping her safe, then I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

“How ‘bout we come up with a code word or something?” Ben suggested as he put in the earpiece Butcher handed him.

“How about ‘Soldier Boy’?” you said, Ben shook his head.

“And what happens if you need to say ‘Soldier Boy’ but you don’t need help?” he countered.

“How about…Ben?” You smiled a little when he nodded.

“I’ll be listening closely to the whole conversation, if you say ‘Ben’ I’ll come and get you outta there.”

“Sounds good.”

“Alright,” Butcher interrupted, “Soldier Boy keep me updated and if all goes well, Y/n, we won’t be seeing you again til later tonight.” He winked obnoxiously.

“If this guy genuinely tries to sleep with me I’ll break his fuckin’ nose,” you said flatly. “Info or no info, I ain’t letting him see me naked.”

Ben had gone in about a minute before you did and found a nice spot near where he knew you’d be sitting with the target. The second you walked in his eyes were glued. He stayed true to his word and listened to every word you and the target said.

“This seat taken, handsome?” you asked the man who then smirked at you.

“It is now,” he said. “And what’s your name, gorgeous?”

“Goldie,” you lied as you took your seat. “What’s yours?”

“Steven. Let me buy you a drink?” he offered and called the bartender over when you nodded.

“Vodka martini,” you ordered. “So Steven, what do you do for work?”

“I work for Vought,” he said and you faked an impressed look.

“No way!” you gasped. “Oh my god, do you know The Seven?”

“I do,” he said with a nod, clearly full of himself.

“That is so cool,” you continued stroking his ego. You nodded in thanks when the bartender handed you your drink and you took a sip. “I’ve never met someone so important!”

“You wanna know a secret?” he asked, you nodded enthusiastically. He leaned over so he could whisper into your ear; “I’m actually in The Deep’s close, personal circle.”

Your eyes went wide for a split second before you got a hold of yourself and whispered back; “Really?”

“Uh-huh,” he said. “I could introduce you if you’d like.” You pulled away from him slightly but still tried your best to keep yourself calm.

“Oh, that’s alright,” you shook your head, “I’m sure he’s too busy for little old me.”

“I’m never too busy.” The voice behind you made your whole body tense up and Ben could tell you were in trouble. You hadn’t said the code word though and he knew both you and Butcher would be mad if he screwed up the mission.

“Butcher,” Ben said into the intercom attached to his jacket, “Deep’s here.”

Butcher paused for a moment before he answered; “Don’t freak out. Y/n can handle herself and unless she says ‘Ben’ you don’t make a move, you understand Soldier Boy?”

“Understood,” he replied.

“You know,” The Deep said, still standing behind you, “I’ve had my eye on you since you walked in here, gorgeous.”

“Y-You have?” you asked, wondering if he recognized you or if your face just blurred together with all the other women he had assaulted. You took another sip of the drink in your hand and continued to keep a close eye on it to make sure it didn’t get spiked.

“I have,” he replied. “Now, why don’t you let my friend Steven here show you a nice time, then take you back to my place at Vought Tower?”

“S-Sounds good,” you trembled. “I-I’ll see you later tonight then, Deep.” You took another, smaller sip.

“Wonderful,” he said before he bent down and placed a kiss on your cheek. “Can’t wait to see this dress on my floor.” With that, he walked away and you let out a sigh of relief.

“Fish fucker’s left the building,” Ben told Butcher. “You gonna tail him or are we still focusing on Steven?”

“Stay focused on Steven, we can kill fish fucker another day,” Butcher said.

“So, you want another drink?” Steven asked you. “Or would you rather head over to the tower?”

“You know, I’d rather spend the night at your place, Steven.” You faked a sweet smile.

“Really?” He raised a brow as a smirk returned to his face. “So, another drink, then?”

“How about I just let you take me home?” The moment you stood up you knew something was wrong. You instantly felt dizzy and sat back down. “Ben, help,” you whispered when you realized exactly what was happening.

“Looks like we’re heading to the tower, Goldie,” Steven said. “Thanks as always, Pat.” He handed a couple hundreds to the bartender.

Ben came up behind Steven and pinned him against the bar with one hand, his other hand resting on the bar itself a few inches from where you were now slouched over.

“What the hell did you do to her, fuckface?” Ben seethed.

“I didn’t do anything! What’s your problem?” Steven yelled, drawing attention to the scene unfolding.

Ben took the back of the man’s head and brought it up half a foot before he slammed it back down onto the wood.

“Tell me what you fuckin’ did or I’ll squish you like a bug,” Ben yelled as he applied more and more pressure to Steven’s head.

“Roofie!” Steven yelled. “Ask the bartender!”

“Ben don’t kill him,” Butcher told him through the earpiece.

“He deserves to fuckin’ die, Butcher,” Ben replied.

“Yes he does but he still has information that we need. If you’ve gotta kill someone, kill the bartender who spiked the fuckin’ drink!”

Ben looked up from gravely injured Steven and saw the bartender cowering in the corner.

“Ben,” you whispered and reached out to touch the hand he still had on the counter. “Ben get me outta here.” His angered expression slowly faded as he looked down into your hooded eyes. “Please?”

“Yeah, I’ve got you,” Soldier Boy said before he quickly scooped you up in his arms and carefully kept your head resting on his shoulder. “Hey, barkeep,” he shouted and the man looked over at him. “Mark my words; no matter where you go or what you do I will find you and tear you limb from fucking limb for hurting her. Your days are fucking numbered.”

Ben hurried you out to the truck and sat you down on the seat next to his so you could lean on him if you wanted, or alternatively, you could lean against the window if you still didn’t want him touching you.

“Stay with her, I’m gonna go figure out how much they gave her and if we need to take her to the hospital,” Butcher told Soldier Boy before leaving.

“Ben,” you slurred, still barely able to open your eyes, “Ben what—what’d you do to me?”

“God fuckin’ damn it, Butcher,” he mumbled under his breath. He blamed Billy entirely for the operation going sideways and for you ending up in danger. “Fuck, you need to purge, sweetheart.” He positioned you so your head was hanging out the side door and stuck his fingers down your throat, ignoring your angered hits to his arms. “This is for your own good, stop fighting me.”

You hurled out the side door, Ben held onto you tightly and made sure you didn’t fall out or get hurt.

“Please just let me go,” you whispered when he took his fingers out, satisfied with the amount of possibly deadly alcohol you were able to get out of your system.

“I know you’re scared right now, but I can’t let you go,” he told you. “I’m sorry.”

Butcher got back to the car pretty quickly, a worried expression on his face.

“How much did they give her?” Ben asked.

“Too fuckin’ much,” Butcher replied. “We’ve gotta make her puke it all up or she might not make it.”

You woke up on the couch to the sound of Butcher and Ben arguing in the kitchen, a splitting headache quickly made itself known when you opened your eyes fully.

“This is your fault, Butcher,” Soldier Boy yelled, “you and your stupid obsession to find Homelander. How dare you put her life at risk like that!”

“Hey I had the strongest man alive in there backing her up, so how the hell did you screw up so badly?”

There was a pause as you kept listing, a part of you was scared you’d start to hear punches being thrown.

Ben shook his head as he looked at his ‘boss’; “You’re a fuckin’ asshole, you know that? She’s been scared outta her fuckin’ mind and yet you just keep on pushin’ her and pushin’ her. And for what? To kill a Supe that’s probably dead already? You know Homelander ain’t a threat since I fuckin’ burned him, yet you still put someone you say you care about in danger.”

“‘Scared outta her fuckin’ mind’?” Butcher scoffed. “What’re you on about?”

“I know she’s terrified of me,” Ben admitted. “I know that you know she is, too. And yet you keep leaving her alone with me, why? Just to make her life worse? To make her feel less safe than she already does?”

“You sayin’ she’s got a reason to be scared of you, then?” Butcher asked. “Thought you were supposed to be some kinda hero?”

“Of course I’d never hurt her! But I’m still a Supe and I know you hate Supe’s. There’s no way in hell you trust me at all or you wouldn’t have her babysitting me every time you leave the fuckin’ house. What I don’t get is why you’re so comfortable leaving her here with the strongest man in the world when you think I’m a fucking monster.” Ben walked over to the fridge and took a bottled water out before he grabbed a cup and left the kitchen.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said quietly as he entered the living room. “I know you’re up, do you want some water?”

“What happened?” you asked as he squatted on the floor in front of the couch and made eye contact with you.

“We can fill you in later, you should probably drink,” he said and held out the two items in his hands. “Would you rather the bottle or a cup?”

“Bottle’s fine,” you replied and you slowly sat up, putting a hand to your head before you took the water from him.

“You need some Aspirin or something?” he asked.

“I’m sure Butcher ‘ll bring me some,” you said, making Ben’s brows furrow a little before he nodded with realization.

“You still don’t trust me much, do you?”

“Sorry,” you mumbled before beginning to drink the water. “What am I wearing, by the way?” you asked and gestured to the dirty, large black tee you had on over the blue dress.

“Oh, uh,” he scratched the back of his neck nervously, “it was on the car floor, I think it’s Butcher’s. I put it on you when uh, when you were kinda out of it and… your boob might’ve kinda… popped outta your dress.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “I didn't… like I didn’t look or anything, I just saw the shirt and immediately put it over you.”

“Sure.” You nodded before you continued downing the bottled water.

“I’ll go get Butcher to bring you some painkillers,” Ben said before leaving the room.

You’d just gotten out of the shower and put on a new set of clean clothes when Butcher stopped you in the hall.

“How’s your head?” he asked.

“Better,” you replied flatly, still pretty frustrated with him.

“I’m sorry I was such an idiot,” he sighed, “I shoulda told Soldier Boy to get you hell outta there the second the fish fucker showed his ugly mug.”

“We needed intel on Homelander,” you reminded him. “My safety was just the price we had to pay.”

“And that was a fucked up currency for me to gamble with,” he said. “I’m sorry I’ve been so obsessed and I’m sorry for leaving you alone with Soldier Boy so much the past couple of weeks.”

You shrugged a little; “It’s no big deal.”

“I want you to know I’m done tryin’ to find Homelander.”

“Seriously?” Your eyes went wide and you furrowed your brows.

“The cunt’s most likely down for the count anyway thanks to granny fucker downstairs and there are other Supes that are much bigger threats right now anyway. Like The Deep, for example, and the number of people he’s paying to help him get away with assaults like last night. I’ve been talking with Hughie and as it turns out, he’s already had his eye on a handful of other bartenders workin’ for fish dick.”

“So…what? You’re saying you’re gonna go back to your old job at Supe affairs and start hunting down these assholes in a more mentally-healthy way?” you asked.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

When you entered the living room you noticed Ben readjusting his position on the couch, as if to try and make himself appear less threatening.

“Hey,” you said quietly, a small smile on your lips as you sat down about two feet from him on the same couch.

“Hey,” he replied. “How’re you feeling?”

“Better.” You nodded. “You need help with the TV?” you asked, picking up the remote from where it sat on the coffee table in front of you.

“Yeah, thanks,” he replied. He watched you intently as you ‘worked your magic’ on the electronic contraption.

“I know I was completely at your mercy last night, Ben,” you said, focused on the TV and not looking over at him. “And I know you could’ve easily taken advantage of the fact I was out of it.”

“But I didn’t.”

“I know that, too.”

“But you still don’t trust me?”

“I want to,” you said. You reached out your left hand and gently placed it on his right one. He looked down at where your hands were touching and smiled softly. “I want to trust you, I just need time to get to know you.”

“You sayin’ you wanna get to know me?” he asked with a bit of a smirk before you nodded. The two of you stayed like that for a moment before Soldier Boy broke the silence; “So, where do we go from here?”

“How about we watch something together?” you suggested.

“That sounds great, sweetheart.”

#the boys #soldier boy x reader #the boys x y/n #the boys x you #the boys tv #the boys fanfic #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy fic #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy fanfic #by jean #by mind empty just fictional people

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g1rld1ary · 5 months ago

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lifeguard!James Potter but its just him shamelessly flirting with reader whilst she stands there stunned.

lifeguard!james potter x reader 4

wc: 1874

cw: horny again

anon i love you ur a genius. this kinda ran away from me lol but i will def be using this again so look out for future parts of flustered r if this isn't quite what u meant!!

the next time you saw james wasn't for a few days. there'd been a few days of colder wind coming from the north -- not enough to be cold necessarily, but unpleasant enough you didn't particularly fancy sitting by the pool.

after two days of mediocre, sunless weather, a real storm came in. rain beating down from the time you woke up, you spent breakfast pondering how to spend the day. you didn't particularly want to spend the whole day rotting away in bed doing nothing and so called up marlene, begging her to pick you up in her parent's car to drive everyone to the shopping village. she was easy to convince, and soon enough you were all packed into the much too small car, singing loudly to the songs on the radio.

the village wasn't anything special, most of the stores were uninteresting, but it was all undercover which was ideal for a rainy day.

the group of you had already wasted an hour in the oxfam, trying on the most ridiculous outfits you could put together. sirius had even managed to turn a truly hideous cheetah print belt into something that looked honestly cool on him, much to the annoyance of everyone else. he tended to do that, though, it meant you had to work even harder to give him awful clothing items. the only one he truly couldn't pull off was a horrendous orange hand-knitted cardigan.

that easily became boring though, and you could tell the cashier was getting annoyed that clearly none of you intended to buy anything. so you left, wandering aimlessly until lily pulled you all into the bookstore. it was warm inside so no one put up much of a fight, splitting up to find their preferred genre. peter went to the historical fiction, lily to literary fiction, remus dragged sirius with him to the classics, marlene to science fiction and mary to fantasy. that left you to wander over to the romances. you weren't much of a reader, preferring the lighter subjects to lily's more serious.

finding the brightly coloured covers you began browsing before catching a glimpse of a mop of dark curls over the next shelf and narrowed your eyes suspiciously. there was no way...

"are you following me?" you asked, no edge in your tone. james looked up with a start, breaking into one of his golden retriever smiles.

"you're the one approaching me," he said, closing the book he'd been checking out.

"touché." you grinned, looking around for the first time to observe what section you were in -- plays. "i didn't know you were a shakespeare nerd under all that muscle. doesn't seem fair you get brains and brawn."

"graze on my lips, and if those hills be dry stray lower, where the pleasant fountains lie." james looked much too pleased with himself and his shakespeare quotes, and you couldn't deny it was having some effect on your own 'pleasant fountain'. you stammered for a moment, lost for a response. no boy had ever quoted shakespeare to you before, and certainly not of such explicit content. truthfully, you didn't realise the world's most revered playwright wrote like that.

"what's that from?" you asked, desperate to get away from his innuendos before you did something you'd regret. plus, you really were curious, the only shakespeare you knew was from when you studied romeo and juliet in year nine and clearly that was becoming insufficient.

"venus and adonis, one of his poems. doesn't continue as happily, but i thought the line was nice enough."

"yeah," you managed through gritted teeth, "really nice." james only laughed at you, evidently enjoying having the upper hand in your banter. it was a testament to his goodness, though, that he didn't continue to hold it against you. instead, he settled down, going back to browsing and letting you hover next to him, answering whatever questions you had about the plays patiently. it was nice, you realised, looking over at him fondly before you caught yourself. you barely knew james, and just because he was a pretty face and a decent brain didn't mean you had to go boy crazy.

you stayed there for what felt like ages, quietly looking at the books until sirius came strutting around the corner.

"since when have you ever read a play in your life -- oh," he said, catching sight of james next to you. "who's this?" you could have sworn sirius gave him a flirty once over, but maybe you were just projecting.

"this is--"

"james," he finished, sticking out an enthusiastic hand. sirius raised an eyebrow, a flicker of recognition in his eye that made your stomach drop.

"james the lifeguard? the one you thought was, and i quote, 'hotter than robert plant i swear to god' and who you would 'pay to suck his dick'? nice to meet you mate!" you wished the ground would open up and swallow you whole as the boys shook hands, james looking significantly more confused than sirius (though not displeased).

"i hope you sleep with one eye open, black," you muttered, trying desperately not to make eye contact with either or let your blush show. you had an inkling you were failing.

"so james, you doing anything today?" sirius asked, and you could only feel the dread spreading throughout your body. james shook his head, quickly slotting the book he was holding back onto the shelf. when sirius invited him to spend the rest of the day with your friends your body had a physical reaction, an embarrassing half-flinch-half-jump that had both boys laughing at you.

you all reconvened outside the bookshop, only a few new books bought between you all. james had been introduced to remus and peter and the girls were all pleased to see him. it seemed like it was only you who was flustered, which seemed to be more common each time you saw him. you missed the first time you spoke when you had all the power.

sirius was the one who dragged you all to the record store, begging to check out their new stock.

"you know," james said as the two of you fell behind, "if you wanted to suck my dick you could've just asked, no payment required." this had to be the worst day of your life. you couldn't bear to look at james, already knowing the shit-eating grin you'd be met with.

"shut up," you mumbled weakly, "sirius is a dreadful dramatic."

he thankfully gave you a bit of a rest in the record store, taking the opportunity to talk to the boys as they perused the albums on offer. you definitely heard james and remus bonding over a love of bowie (not that it was a particularly niche interest) which made you smile.

while you were sure peter was being kind to james to his face, every time he turned away to look at something peter was quick to tease you, fanning his face like james was a supermodel or imitating a crude makeout. you responded with a firm middle finger, but it held no effect.

"i love that album," you said, pointing at the one james had picked up. it was bruce springsteen's born to run, a record you played in your room on repeat.

"i'm stupidly uneducated, i think i've only heard the singles. maybe we can listen to it together sometime, you can teach me his ways." you grinned, honest james was much easier to handle than flirty james.

"only if you're ready to listen to me fantasise about bruce," you said, "his eyes really do something for me."

"i have eyes," james said, pulling a giggle from both you and mary.

"guess so." it wasn't one of his better attempts at flirting, but it still drew a smile from you, so james didn't look too upset.

you didn't really talk to him again until you'd retired to the food court, all desperate for lunch. sirius had made sure you two were seated together, and you were suspicious of how much of a matchmaker he was being. you only wanted to jump his bones, you weren't looking to get married.

you'd just told an impeccable pun -- you knew it was good as the whole table began berating you -- and had caught james' eye by accident. he'd smiled at you in his lopsided way and rolled his eyes light-heartedly.

"i didn't picture you to have such terrible taste in jokes," he said, and you exaggerated a frown.

"and yet you're still talking to me," you countered, "so what does that say about you?"

"that i'm lucky." your mouth dropped open without your brain consenting. james had well and truly caught you off guard, an irritatingly perfect combination of earnestness and shameless flirting all rolled into one. you could feel yourself floundering, mouth opening and closing as you searched for anything to say. james was clearly enjoying his victory, cocky grin on display for anyone to witness. you couldn't bring yourself to look at him, flushed with embarrassment (and lust) and not a single inkling of thought in your head.

you'd ended up on james' lap. it started with marlene offering james a lift home, not wanting to leave him walking in the rain. that led to the realisation you had far too many friends for seats; five available in the car and eight people. sirius had dibs-d remus' lap before the rest of you had even caught up to his train of thought, and lily and mary teamed up together shortly after. you were consequently assigned to james by the others, marlene obviously driving and peter refusing to even take part. you had sympathy for james, only an hour or two into meeting half the group and already pushed into doing their bidding because of remus' easy "you don't mind, do you, mate?"

and so you were sitting on his lap, not uncomfortable but definitely nervous. you'd imagined your first time being in his lap being slightly more sexy and autonomous.

"i'm not too heavy, am i?" you asked, hating how insecure you sounded. james just laughed softly.

"weren't you the one pining after my muscles? have a little faith in me!" james was unbelievably confident today, even more so than you remember him being in your previous meetings. you were the opposite, never having felt so meek around him.

you figured you couldn't be the only one experiencing the torture and so rolled the window down, pushing your upper half out and into the wind, laughing as you felt the rain on your skin. whilst enjoyable for yourself, it also required you to shift your position on james' lap and stretch out your torso, giving james a good view of your bra from under your sloppily done, homemade crop top. the combination was clearly effective if the development in his crotch was anything to go off. plus the way he held your hips to keep you concealing his little problem was telling you all you needed to know. another little wiggle from you and his grip tightened to almost bruising, but far from unpleasant. maybe james could flirt, but you had tricks you weren't above using.

#giasfics˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀#love #fluff #james potter #james potter x y/n #the marauders #marauders #marauders era #hp marauders #dead gay wizards #james potter fluff #james potter x you #james potter x reader #james potter imagine #lifeguard!james #lifeguard james #lifeguard!james potter #harry potter

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justauthoring · 9 months ago

Text

your reassurance

matches could get a little tense, but never this bad.

a/n: i go back to school in two days and im not ready to deal with the stress of everything once again so i wrote this to comfort me :) i promise i'll write for anime soon lol.

pairing: jamie tartt x f!reader

warnings: you literally get a water bottle thrown at you :)

Basically, it had all gone to hell in a matter of seconds.

What had been nothing more than any regular game you’ve gone to hundreds of times, turned into a full out brawl that left your heart racing in fear. You’d been up in the box with Rebecca, Keeley and Higgins as you always were, happily watching Richmond play while your eyes specifically gravitated towards a certain player with the number nine on his back.

Richmond was winning and you’d been very vocal and very loud about your excitement and support (like you always were) the entire game. Jamie seemed to be especially on fire that day after securing one goal himself and assisting with two other ones, which happily placed Richmond in the lead of three to one.

But it wasn’t an at home match, and it seemed like some of the fans who cheered for their home team didn’t appreciate just how loudly you and your friends were cheering.

After Jamie manages to score another goal himself, you’re jumping up to your feet, decked out in red and blue with Jamie’s number happily adorning your back. You scream so loud even though your throat already feels raw from how loud you’d been cheering the entire match, Keeley’s hands tightly clutching your arms as the both of you jump up and down. Jamie is being tackled by his teammates and you watch the celebration with a fond smile, cheeks flushed, skin slightly warm with sweat as the whole match catches up to you.

Then, suddenly, there’s something smacking you right in the forehead.

It’s a surprise enough, not having expected the hit, but it hurts enough to knock you off balance. You stumble backwards on your feet and feel Keeley’s grip tighten on you as she tries to catch you. Your hand falls to your forehead where you’d been heard, winching when it throbs in response, lowering your gaze only to see a water bottle on the ground next to your feet and when your eyes glance ahead of you, you see a pair of blazing eyes staring back at you.

“Babes,” Keeley calls out in shock, pulling your eyes on her as she glances at your forehead. “Are you–”

“Shut your damn whore mouth!”

You’ve hardly processed what’s happening before you realize that the man is trying to climb his way up to your seats, and Keeley is harshly pulling you back to safety. You distantly hear Rebecca calling out for security as Higgins tries to guide everyone else to safety as well. You know you should snap out of it and help Keeley but your vision is blurring and your heart is racing and everything is suddenly too much that you’re stuck staring at the pair of eyes that seem to wish the absolute worst for you.

The man manages to grab your arm before you can fully pull away, digging his nails into your arm as you let out a small cry before Keeley rips his grasp off of you and fully tugging you away. She pulls you to face her, shoving her in front of you when it was clear that you were the man’s target and you see security rushing past you as second later as you’re pulled away from the stadium and down the hall.

Rebecca is rushing to get medics and Keeley is trying to ask you if you’re okay but you can’t think straight. You keep glancing over your shoulder in fear that somehow the man will be there, but of course he isn’t and before you know it you’re being tucked away into a room and sat on a bench where Rebecca returns with some of Richmond’s medics.

Keeley stays there, holding your hand tightly as the medic checks you over. You squeeze her hand without even realizing it, your heart still pounding madly against your chest as the medic cleans the scratches the man had managed to dig into your arm and place a bandage over them. She confirms that you have a very mild concussion from the plastic water bottle hitting your head and she wants you to rest in the room for a bit before heading home, and only if you have someone to drive you home.

Luckily, Keeley is able to assure that you do when you find yourself unable to speak, and then the medic is leaving with one final goodbye and a nod Rebecca’s way.

“Babe,” Keeley calls softly, “are you–”

“Where is she?” A sudden voice booms and you react to something for the first time since everything had happened, back straightening as your eyes fall towards the door in alert. “Oi, where is Y/N? Y/N–”

Whatever Jamie had been about to say promptly falls shut the second he reaches the door and his eyes catch yours. His face falls when he sees you, the wild panic in his eyes morphing to concern when he takes you in and before you realize it you’re jumping off the bench and he’s wrapping his arms around you before you can even take one step.

You wrap your arms around him tightly, burying your head into the crook of his neck as a small sob leaves your lips. Jamie presses a hand to the back of your head in response, worried eyes flickering over to Keeley who’s offering him a small smile and a hand to your back before she steps out with Rebecca, the two of them giving you some privacy.

“I’m so sorry it took me so long to get ‘ere,” Jamie rambles the second he’s sure you’re alone. He pulls back, moving to cup your cheeks as his eyes traces your injuries, frowning deeply when he sees the bruise that’s welling on your forehead. “We were already leaving the pitch when it happened and when I tried to turn around, I couldn’t get through. I tried to get to you as soon as possible, love. Are… what happened?”

It’s like everything finally catches up to you. The tears welling in your eyes finally fall as you clutch onto him tightly, relying on his presence heavily, shaking your head. “I dunno,” you mumble. “One second I’m cheering for your win and then a water bottle is being thrown at my head. Jamie, he was so angry… the man who hit me and then he was trying to get to me and I froze… I… I was so scared.”

Using his thumb to brush away your tears, Jamie shakes his head, shushing you gently. “I’m so sorry, love. I should’ve been there.”

You just shake your head; “you couldn’t have known. Keeley helped get me away and Rebecca got security as soon as possible.”

“Then I owe them the whole world for keeping you safe for me,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss to your forehead, careful not to put pressure on your injury. “And I’ll personally make sure that that man is never allowed to a single match ever again. And worse.”

Nodding, you reach up and grab his hands in your hand, leaning against him. “I couldn’t think properly until I saw you,” you explain, registering that you hadn’t really listened to the medic when she was trying to help you. And you hadn’t thanked Rebecca or Keeley yet, which you would need to. “I think I was in shock.”

“Of course ya were,” Jamie agrees. “What ya went through… ya never should have had to. I’m so sorry that it even happened in the first place.”

You just shake your head, pressing a kiss to his palm. “I think the medic said I only had a mild concussion. And that you need to drive me home.”

“Done,” Jamie agrees with ease, “you practically already live with me. Will ya be okay takin’ the bus back home with the boys? I don’t really want ya to be alone.”

You nod with ease. “I want to be with you,” you assure, meeting his gaze. “Rebecca’s private jet is lovely but I need you.”

“Then you’ve got me,” Jamie promises, pulling you in for a hug once more, holding you tightly as if afraid you’d disappear from his fingers. “Always.”

#ted lasso #ted lasso x reader #jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt imagine #phil dunster

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saddleups · 17 days ago

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𝐁𝐄𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 .

★ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 . . . 2.8k

★ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒 . . . drabble , complete. JAMES SUNDERLAND X F!READER !! 18+ SMUT MDNI !!

★ 𝐂𝐖 . . . fighting for dominance (?) . oral ( m and f receive ) . guys its rough . explicit dirty talk . sixty nine lol . p_rn w/o plot.

★ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 . . . james sunderland has always been a mystery to you. after a long day on the road , he suggests stopping at a rundown , grimy motel for the night. the place is far from inviting , but james is determined. its here , in this dirty old motel that you finally uncover what's been lurking in that charming blonde head of his.

★ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 . . . i cheated and looked at the poll results earlier ... it gave me a head start considering 58% of y'all yearned for the motel lol . ngl , this is kind of a mess but i am feral.

The drive home had stretched out longer than either of you had expected. James was behind the wheel, his eyes fixed on the road ahead, but you could feel the weight of his exhaustion in his posture. The soft hum of music played in the background as you found yourself studying his profile—the sharp slope of his nose, the strong cut of his jaw, a perfect combination that made his handsomeness almost unfair. It was hard to keep your attraction under control. Your body reacted without permission, a quiet tingling sensation awakening inside you, but you did your best to keep those feelings tucked away. After all, your poker face was never quite as convincing as James’.

He always seemed to keep his emotions locked up, held at arm’s length. Unless he directly told you what he was thinking, it was nearly impossible to read him. You realized you’d been staring too long when he spoke, his voice calm and steady. "Everything alright?"

You quickly snapped your gaze forward, heat rushing to your face. "Y-yeah. Sorry."

"I'm feeling a little tired," he admitted, still focused on the dark stretch of road ahead. "I don't think it's safe for me to keep driving."

"Do you want me to take over? I don't mind," you offered, glancing at him.

James shook his head, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "No, no. I know you're tired too. There's a motel up the road," he said, nodding toward it. "We can stop and take a break."

You nodded, relieved. "Yeah, that sounds good."

As James pulled into the motel’s parking lot, he parked the car and turned off the engine. The building ahead was far from luxurious—run-down and worn, with a flickering neon sign that made the whole place look like a relic from a forgotten era. Still, it was a place to rest.

James got out of the car first and came around to open the door for you, a gesture that made you smile despite your surroundings. It was such a small thing, but it felt thoughtful, like a reminder that he always took care of you in these subtle ways. You murmured a quiet "thank you" as you stepped out, appreciating the moment.

He walked with you to the front desk, his hand lightly guiding you. The motel lobby was just as rundown as the outside, with faded wallpaper and an odd smell lingering in the air. You couldn’t help but feel uneasy, inching closer to James as the man behind the desk asked, "What can I do for you?"

"Any room available?" James asked, his voice steady and polite.

The clerk grunted, tapping at an ancient computer before handing over a key. "Room at the end. Number seven."

You gripped James' arm tighter as he accepted the key, your nerves on edge in the seedy atmosphere. He glanced down at you, offering a reassuring look before guiding you out of the lobby and toward the room.

Once inside, you both took in the sight of the small, outdated room. It wasn’t much, but it would do for the night. You set your bag down and turned to you James soft smile. "Not exactly five-star, huh?"

James didn't respond. Instead he firmly shut the door behind him. He turned to face you, his expression unreadable as per usual, however the tension between you two was palpable. Your heart raced as you take a step back, body pressing against the wall.

"What are you doing?" You whisper.

James stepped closer, his gaze boring into yours. "What am I doing?" He sounds almost … irritated?

"After the way you were looking at me before, god. I nearly crashed the car." He huffed a breath. "Like you were begging for me to bend you over." It dawned on you, it wasn't irritation in his demeanor. It was sexual frustration.

Before you could react, James grabbed your waist and pressed his body into yours. His lips crash forming rough, punishing kiss. His hands move up your hips, pulling them closer until there was no space between you two. You felt the restriction on his jeans against your thigh, the thought of the length caused you to gasp in his mouth.

James wasn't letting go. He deepened the kiss, his tongue probing into your mouth with a hunger that left you breathless. His hands slid down to your ass, squeezing hard enough to bruise as he grinds his erection against your thigh. So desperate for a sense of relief.

Your voice trembles as you plead, "P-please…"

But James only pulls back, his eyes dark, "do you want me to stop?"

Tears prickle at the corners of your eyes as you shake your head, your desperation matching his intensity. "No, please don't stop…"

He kisses you roughly, tracing the edge of your mouth with a finger as he groans against your lips. "You're so fucking sexy. I can't stop thinking about you."

Your knees tremble under his touch, completely under his spell. "What are you thinking about?" you ask coyly.

James's hands roam over your body, lifting your shirt to expose your lacy bra underneath. "Your tits, your ass," he growls as his fingers squeeze and knead your breasts. A soft moan escapes from your stained lips. "And how tight and wet your pussy feels around me."

His dirty words sent a jolt of desire through you, and you couldn't believe that such thoughts existed in his pretty head. You weigh your options in this game of seduction and decide to play along.

"But that's not what good boys do, James," you tease, causing his erection to twitch in response. "You're such a dirty boy." The seductive tone in your voice only adds fuel to the fire as James's desire for you intensifies even more.

James's eyes darkened at your words, a low growl rumbling in his chest. "Are you gonna punish me for it," he almost laughs, his voice husky with desire. His hands slid down your sides, gripping your hips tightly as he pressed you harder against the wall.

You gasped as he ground his hips against yours, feeling the hard length of him through his jeans. Your head fell back against the wall, exposing your neck to him. James took full advantage, his lips trailing hot kisses down your throat as his hands roamed your body.

"God, I've wanted this for so long," he breathed against your skin, nipping at your collarbone. "Wanted you for so long."

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging gently as pleasure coursed through you. "Then take me," you whispered, your voice breathy with need.

James growled, his eyes flashing with hunger. "I'll show you just how dirty I can be."

In one swift motion, he lifted you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. He carried you to the bed, tossing you onto the mattress with a bounce. Before you could catch your breath, he was on top of you, his weight pressing you into the creaky motel bed.

His hands were everywhere at once, caressing, squeezing, exploring every inch of your body. You arched into his touch, desperate for more. James's lips trailed hot kisses down your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. You knew there would be marks tomorrow, but you couldn't bring yourself to care.

"James," you moaned, your voice a low, commanding whisper as your fingers slid through his hair, tightening your grip with each passing second. His lips traveled down the length of your body, but before he could indulge any further, you yanked him back, asserting control.

With a sharp tug, you pulled his head up, forcing him to meet your gaze. His eyes were wild with desperation, a raw hunger that betrayed his need, but you held him firmly in place, denying him the satisfaction he craved. He was yours to command.

"I told you," your voice cut through the thick tension in the air, "that's not how good boys behave."

His breath hitched, and you felt the shiver run through him. You could see the struggle in his expression—the fight between his desire and the knowledge that you held all the power. He was teetering on the edge, waiting for you to decide his fate.

With a groan of pleasure, you pushed yourself off the bed and stood before him, the alluring picture of innocence undone. Delicate fingers urged James forward, his eyes locked onto yours as he remained on his knees in anticipation. The sound of fabric ripping filled the room as you freed yourself from the confines of your clothes, revealing your supple body to his hungry gaze.

Your hands slipped behind the lace of your panties and gathered the wetness that coated your fingers. You held the sight before him like an offering, a temptation he couldn't resist. "Open your mouth," you commanded softly, and James obeyed without hesitation - hungrily watching as you slipped your fingers between his lips and onto his tongue.

Heart racing, you placed your fingers against James's eager mouth and ordered him to suckle like a baby from your honeyed nectar. His cheeks hollowed out with the effort as he swirled his tongue around yours, lapping up every drop of your essence while sending shivers of delight through your core.

"Good boy," you breathed out, feeling the tension within you mounting unbearably. "Suck harder." And James did - pulling on your fingers with all the desperation of a man lost in desire for you, his tongue flickering wildly against yours as he drank deeply from the wellspring of pleasure that was flowing from between your legs.

As you watched James suckle greedily at your fingers, a warm glow of pleasure spread through your body. You couldn't help but reward his eagerness with a soft "good boy" murmur that made its way into his eager mouth. His tongue flicked against yours in response, as if he understood the praise was for him alone.

Removing your fingers from his mouth a string of saliva connects you both. James , on his knees, scurried forward. His teeth biting the strap of your panties, he slid the lacey number down.

"That's my good boy," you purred, stepping closer to him and running your hands over his shoulders before guiding him towards the rickety bed that creaked under their combined weight. You pushed him gently onto his back, admiring the way he arched under your touch as he allowed himself to be led like a lamb to slaughter.

Kneeling between James's legs, you free him from the confides of his clothing. Freeing his cock from the cage it was trapped in. You ran your tongue along the length of his shaft before taking it into your mouth and sucking greedily on its hardness. His hips bucked up off the mattress in response, demanding more from you as you teased him with short bursts of oral pleasure.

"Fuck, you're so good. I feel like I'm going insane." He groaned.

James reached out to pull at your hair, urging you deeper onto his cock while pleading wordlessly for release. His hands trembled against your skin as he fought for control over himself, but ultimately it was you who held the power in this game… for now.

"You've been such a good boy," you whispered against his throbbing member before pulling back to admire its length one last time. "But I think it's time for your reward."

And with that, you sank back onto James's cock with a satisfied moan, welcoming him into the depths of your mouth. The tip of his hard cock hitting against your throat, meanwhile rings of your lipstick linger along the shaft. Before he can loose himself completely in your game, James returned the motion you shared earlier. With a fistful of your hair, he yanked you from his throbbing member with a guttural groan.

In a fervent nature he situated your body on the dirty mattress. Involuntarily, you find yourself opening your legs wider for him, "James! You're being so bad,"

"Shut the fuck up!" He dejects, running the tip of his cock against your slick cunt. He enters, stretching your walls to their extent. You stretch your legs farther in a feeble attempt to earn more from him.

As you feel James's cock sliding in and out of your tight pussy, you can't help but let out a moan of pleasure at the sensation. Your breasts rise and fall with each thrust of his hips, an erotic sight that drives him even deeper into you. "You're so wet, so filthy." With a growl of possession, James wraps an arm around your waist, pulling your body closer to his as he takes you harder than ever before.

"That's it," you pant in response, arching your back to meet him stroke for stroke. "Fuck me like the dirty little whore that I am." And James does – grinding into you with a ferocity that leaves no doubt about who holds the power here.

Finally reaching his climax, James grits his teeth and buries himself to the hilt inside you one last time before pulling out with a sharp groan of release. His hot seed shooting across your stomach in a powerful eruption that leaves both of you breathless and satiated.

As the two of you lay entangled in each other's sweaty embrace, you rest your head on his chest, tracing circles on his abdomen. The old mattress groans under your combined weight. "You were worth every fucking second," he whispers into your ear, nibbling softly on your lobe. His cock throbs against your thigh, still wet with his essence and aching for another round of pleasure.

"So what's next?" You ask teasingly, arching your back to offer him a glimpse of your slick folds beckoning him forward. "Should we try something different, I can ride you." James responded with a gruff you couldn't discern.

Then he rolls onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow as he drags you into a sixty-nine position. You yelp at the unexpected motion. His depravity, perverted nature was running like a faucet. You lay atop of James his hardened, throbbing cock mere inches from your face. With a trembling hand you reach forward for his length, tasting the juices that were inside you moments ago.

Underneath you, James darts his tongue out to taste you once more while his fingers trace lazy circles around your clit. "Fuck... you're so fucking filthy," he moans against your cunt, licking and sucking at your swollen folds as if they were the most delicious dessert he's ever tasted.

You gasp in response, surrendering your weight on James face, grinding. Completely lost in the pleasure he was providing you. Unable to focus on the task of sucking his cock, your nails dig into his thighs. Sounds of pleasure rip from your throat, uncaring of who can hear the two of you outside the motel door.

"You like that?" He asks teasingly, nipping at your clit before diving back into his feast. "Tell me how much you want it."

"I need... I need you inside me," you moan out, bucking against his tongue as it delves deeper into your soaking wet cunt. The pressure is building again but this time there's no rush – this will be a slow burn toward orgasm after orgasm until you both collapse in a puddle of sweat and satisfaction.

James' demand is like a whip cracking in the air, spurring you into action. With a ravenous hunger for his touch, you hastily position yourself as he commanded. Your legs tremble with anticipation as his hands glide up your thighs, admiring every inch of your body with greed and awe. "Beautiful," he mutters in breathless admiration. A soft smile tugs at your lips, but it quickly turns into a moan as you plunge yourself onto him, feeling his hardness fill you completely. His skillful thrusts hit all the right spots, driving you wild with pleasure. You place your hands on his chest, using them to anchor yourself as your hips move in sync with his, pushing him deeper inside you. His fingers dance over your clit, sending electrifying shockwaves through your entire body.

The symphony of your combined moans fills the room, each one louder than the last as you both lose yourselves in this passionate battle of desire and ecstasy. As your climax approaches, James' name becomes a mantra on your lips. With a final burst of intensity, waves of pleasure crash over you, leaving you trembling and gasping for air. James' release floods inside you, overflowing with primal satisfaction that can only be found in each other's embrace. You slowly dismount and snuggle into his arms, basking in the afterglow of pure bliss. In silence, you both anticipate what new pleasures await in the morning.

#james sunderland x reader #james sunderland x you #james sunderland smut #silent hill x reader #sh 2 fic #sh 2 smut #filed: behave #saddleups

153 notes · View notes

otakuworks · 10 months ago

Note

Hiiiiiii it's my first time asking, I really love ur genshin works and this may be a very huge request but I've been having a brainrot where Genshin men are in particular manhwa and the reader gets to be the protagonist.

My idea is Xiao as Duke Kedrey from Villainess is a Marionette, cuz he treasure his personal bubble and really is a strong warrior like Raphael.

Maybe Scara as Rezef, it's self explanatory lol

Or Childe as Jeremy Agriche from Roxana. He'll spoil his darling rotten and relationship can be quite toxic but still healthy nonetheless.

Or Kaeya as Heinrey from The Remarried Empress. They're both Casanovas and hot looking❤❤

Or Razor as Nine from Beware of the Villainess.

I know it's too much and you ignore this if you want if it's a bit overwhelming. But if you do, it's okay to not do all of it, I'll be satisfied even just with one. Thank you and have a great day!!!!

❛ 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐚𝐬 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐇𝐖𝐀 𝐌𝐋. manhwa au

feat. Xiao, Scara, Childe, Kaeya, Bennett x GN!Reader | wc. 9.1Kaeya

disclaimer. if you haven't read any of these manhwas, don't worry, i won't spoil the story that much anyway. this fic will only be based on the manhwa and I'll try to explain it as the best I can do. and the first few bulleted paragraphs are the overview of the manhwa or the character.

note. this is genius level idea. thank you for requesting, i thoroughly enjoyed writing this prompt and reach 10k words lmao. I never got to write for razor 'cuz I still have to continue reading beware of the villainess but I do have an idea for bennett (my sec fav dps) in this prompt. i might do a part 2 with diluc who knows

cw. psychological, suggestive themes, yandere, childe

main m.list genshin m.list

𝐗𝐈𝐀𝐎 / 𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒 as 𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐋 𝐊𝐄𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐘 !

Not a single soul in the Empire does not know the fierce infatuation you harbor for the young Duke Alatus of Kedrey Dukedom. From his stunning golden eyes and dark green hair, everywhere he goes demands spotlight.

Ever since you caught the sight of him in one of the balls you were attending, you clung onto him like a leech, always closing the proximity, writing letters, and initiating conversation with him in hopes he'll reciprocate your feelings

Every interaction fills you with contentment and confidence. You're the eldest child of the Emperor, dignified, stunning and kind. Who wouldn't want an Imperial Nobility like you?

However, you've gotten way too engrossed for your undying love for him that you swept away the constant threat looming above you and your title as the Imperial Nobel.

The ballroom shimmers with golden lights, and the air buzzes with the sound of laughter and polite conversation with the soft hum of elegant music relaxing the nerves in the background, setting the perfect backdrop for the prestigious event where the whole Royal Family would be making an appearance.

Most notable Royal Family member to present was Y/N L/N, whom the rumors were circulating about of plausible marriage proposal to a certain Duke, unsurprisingly.

"Alatus!" You maneuvered your way to him, seemingly shameless for calling his name without his title before it.

"Your Highness." He greeted in such a desultory tone that anyone can deduce he's anything but ecstatic to see you.

You've known how distant and cold he acts toward everybody, but you were cursed with such a dense mind to comprehend he doesn't treat you any different; his stiff actions like simple greeting and short response equates how much he craves to stay furtive, contorted expressions and averting gazes are him expressing his displeasure in your presence and he definitely ignores your letters.

And yet you hope you can change his views of you by approaching him because of your burgeoning feelings. It didn't cross your mind how much he values his personal space and kept on insisting your infatuation, unbeknownst how much it irritates him.

"I'm glad you are here. Did you read my letters? I was hoping for your reply since last month but you remained unresponsive. I thought you might have been busy so you forgot to reply." You rambled on and on, you're too close for his liking but out of respect to your title as the Imperial Highness, Alatus stays silent.

One of the attendants offered you a chocolate dessert and you ate without regards, even offering one to the Duke. "I'm not a fan of sweets, Your Highness." He refused, eyes twitching.

"Oh? I apologize for that. It seems— *COUGH*"

For once, one expression painted the Duke's face out of all the times he wears his stoic facade. However, you don't know if you should be glad he's looking at you like that, he looks mortified.

"Imperial Highness! Quick! Fetch the doctor!" A Duchess yelled with clear distraught as she watches you slumped over the floor, coughing blood and alarmingly paling each second.

This incident is quite common amongst nobles.

You were poisoned.

Whoever did such thing never got to register in your brain as the poison intensifies and you doubled over from the scorching pain. Black dots danced in your vision, tempting to lure your eyes to close and pain only pushed you to do so

You barely registered the rushing footsteps of the guards or the nobles screaming before darkness greeted you like an old friend.

The Imperial Palace busied themselves for the recovery of the eldest royal, it even for busier when you were comatose. Security has been tight since then, there were more than necessary numbers of guards stationed outside your room.

Duke Alatus seems neutral with everything, rumors spread among the nobels that he never care for their highness, Y/N.

While it is true that he shows nothing but malice towards your incongruous advances, he does appreciate your efforts of getting closer on a microscopic level and deep down, there's a tinge of concern pricking his numb heart.

Still, his hatred and pride overpowers his concern, he never once visited you, not that visitors are allowed in the Imperial Palace anyway.

He does ask his informants regarding of your health condition. No one can gauge what thoughts running in his mind when he does so much as stare at the informant with a straight face.

And then one day, he received the news of your recovery, that you're finally awake.

You've been awakened by a startling nightmare that rattled your mind awake. For a comatose person in a cool air room, your forehead is sedimented with perspiration and all you can think of is how to escape from your wretched room.

Your maid came in only to react in astonishment to see you sitting up. When she asks how are you faring, you responded neither politely nor dismissively, when the doctor checked your vitals, you didn't throw a tantrum like you always do.

Behind your veil is a person desperate to survive the Imperial Palace before another catastrophic event occurs in the near future. You have to change your ways, it is for your benefit anyway.

The maid was suspicious of your every changing behavior as you were known for beautiful and luxurious nobel who throws jaundiced looks on anyone who do so much as to stare at Alatus.

Speaking of the Duke, you only realize he has no intention of reciprocating your feelings through the maids during your comatose state because there are times you lay there immobilized but your sense of hearing never fails you.

It was a bitter reality, you genuinely feel infatuated to the Duke and want nothing more but to know him better.

Unfortunately, your ways of showing affection is not appreciated to a man who values his dignity and protects his people first.

You chuckled at your stupidity, it was all spelled out for you to decipher but you chose to remain ignorant to the truth and now you got the deserving consequences of your actions. You suffer.

If time permits, you'd like to steer clear with Duke Alatus and seek forgiveness for the time you made him feel like an unworthy man who only attracts potential suitors by his looks and reputation.

He's so much more than that, and hopefully he'll find the right person who can show him love beyond on what you can give him.

For now you want to focus on running away from the Imperial Palace until the storm passes.

Weeks flew by and you've been attending more social balls to tell the whole empire that you've survived the assassination attempt, to convey nothing can hold you down. But to also give you enough time to map your escape in the palace.

It's not an easy task to fly away from the palace with the noble title on your head. Therefore, you would need someone to help you get away legally.

"M-Marriage?" Sputtered the Duke Alatus.

So much for asking for his forgiveness.

"I'm aware it sounds a salacious scheme to tie you down with me and I can only offer you my sincere words that I no longer bear any infatuation toward you, Duke. I've accepted the fact you have no room for romance and moved on. I hope you do the same and accept this contract. It's beneficial for both parties."

Sure it sounds like a scam and Alatus doesn't want to end up like his friend, Zhongli, who gets scam from left and right.

What baffles him is you sitting with such poise and authority that he no longer can see the past you who kept chasing him for answers to your confessions. You've matured. Mature enough to handle a crucial negotiation.

And it raises the question.

What happened?

He only knows you as the Royal Noble who follows him with lovesick eyes. He wasn't informed you could be downright. . . sexy.

"Your face is red, Duke. Is everything alright?"

"Yes." A pragmatic answer coming from a man punching himself on his mind for thinking lewd things about you.

"I'm not expecting a direct answer now, Duke. Take as much time as you need, but be reminded that I also have limited time. If you are not able to give me your answer within a month, I'll exterminate our negotiation and never speak it ever again."

Silence reigned supreme, the Duke's face never betrayed any emotion while you held your head high as you sip your tea. "I hope to hear your answer soon, Duke Alat—"

"I accept."

You blinked comically. "I beg your pardon?"

"I accept your offer."

"W-What? Are you certain?"

He leaned back and crossed his arms. "I am a soldier, everything I do is with certainty. I do not rush nor stall."

Your eyes escaped his scrutinizing gaze and slapped yourself at the back of your mind. Who were you kidding, of course Alatus wouldn't waste time and prefer to give direct answer. Times like this make you realize you don't know him at all and yet you claimed that you love him. Embarrassing.

"I understand. Starting tomorrow we are publicly a couple within 6 months, you help me with my escape and I'll help you in your foreign affairs under the Royal family's name."

You stuck your hand out for him to shake. "I'll be in your care."

"As I am."

Headline: "Royal Highness Y/N L/N and Duke Alatus Kedrey relationship has recently caused rumors to suggest their Highness Y/N has eloped with the Duke."

"This is an overkill." A nervous chuckle rumbled from you.

"I think it's justifiable." Countered the Duke.

"I believe so. What worries me is your take in this."

A frown settled deep in his eyebrows. "Worried?"

You mirrored his expression. "This headline would most likely attract journalists to interview you, possibly even dig your background to quench their thirst for answers." You paused and walked ahead of him in the garden.

"Knowing you don't like anyone to probe into your private life, it worries me to think about the plausible frauds you'll experience." You couldn't see his expression as you sighed.

Unbeknownst to you, his face is crunched up, forming an expression of what you can call it. . . confusion? Your words perplexed him to a whole new degree.

Weeks ago you were throwing yourself at him, you could care less of his feelings and only care for him to love you back, you did unimaginable things that he finds pathetic. You were selfsh, self-centered and other synonymous words.

But now. . .

Alatus sighed, massaging his temples. No use of thinking hard about their change, it could be a facade to let my guard down. As if that would ever happen anyway.

"I am not worthy of your concern, Your Highness. Please be rest assured that mere words won't affect this contract."

"Y/N."

"Pardon?"

"Call me Y/N when we're in public. It'd cause a stir if a couple address each other formally. Would it be alright if I call you by your first name?"

Again, you're being unusually solicitous for him. He was too stunned to speak and you took it as a negative sign.

"Do tell me when you're comfortable enough to let me call—"

"Why are you like this?" He bluntly asked.

You blinked owlishly. "I'm afraid I don't know what you mean."

"Why are you pretending to be nice?"

You inwardly sighed. Of course there's no way he'll fall for your 'nice change' if anything, it made him more suspicious of your behavior. But really, you're showing genuine care for his needs and always try your best to assist him.

"I highly doubt you remember our first meeting, for you it might've been the worst day of your life. For me? It was the opposite."

"What?"

"My father is not as loving and caring for most people would think. Oh no, he's far from those, he's cruel and abusive." Alatus' eyes sharpened at the indication of domestic violence.

"He only saw me as a child who'd bring glory to the Empire, he cares for what value I can impart on behalf of his reputation. I have the beauty after all, but not the brains nor brawns. And he couldn't be satisfied with it." A bitter chuckle came from you.

"When I saw you at the ball, I was mesmerized like most men and women at first glance. You're dignified, strong, insightful and top of that you're undeniably gorgeous. I admire you like the rest of the population because you have everything my father wanted from me. I thought all those qualities were unreachable, and yet you exist. You made me feel inferior and I became insecure of myself. I only have my pretty face, without it I'm nothing but a disposable ornament. Do you know who poisoned me that night?"

He says nothing for a little while. He knew the answer right before you even asked. "Your father." There's a bite in his words.

"Perceptive as always, Duke Alatus." He couldn't match your careless words. If he was perceptive he would've figure out you feel threatened at your own home. He— Archons! He's pissed!

And for what reason? He asked himself.

"I pursued you since then, thinking my father would change the way he treats me if I had you with me, a perfect son-in-law— maybe then he'd look the way I expect a loving father would." Fists clenched, you tightly closed your eyes.

"I was a fool, alright. When he realized you're not interested in me, he deemed me worthless, hence why I was poisoned. He wanted to eliminate a thing that has no value anymore. It took me years to realize that he would never love me. No one would."

You've never experienced love, let alone how to show it properly. Only the Duke Alatus ever made you feel like a human worthy of showing basic manners to you without the influence of your title.

Your first meeting with him left a huge impression. It was at your debutant party, nobles attended and gossips were shared. A night that should've your spotlight, but it felt far from it.

For instance, you constantly felt out of place, as if you don't really belong in the social groups of nobility. Which was richly hypocritical, considering you also had an appetite for attention over individuality. The dichotomy left you uncertain on many occasions and you felt obligated to mask yourself behind a much more "proper" exterior. You can't define what's exactly proper, and so you would always second guess everything you do as feeble as greeting a new face and ask yourself if it's at their satisfactory.

At the end of the night, no one even noticed the star of the night had gone missing amidst their debut celebration. All except one.

Perched on the rim of the fountain, your bare feet submerged in the pool of water.

The cold sensation is strangely comforting, add the cool breeze of the night and you feel oddly at peace. Somehow contradictory to what you've read in romance books that people under stress usually crave the warmth of their partner. Perhaps the absence of love made you hunger for whatever's available for comfort, starving people will eat anything after all.

"Reduced to just sitting around. How absurd."

A frightening shriek escaped your lips, you made a hasty turn as the water splashed as you move. But that soon morphed in relief, the man in front of you impose no danger, if anything you'd feel the safest in his presence.

Duke Alatus is revered as the Hero in his Liyue Empire, the strongest fighter and apparently most handsome man to exist. And boy do those rumors did him any justice.

You've seen him from afar and couldn't help but fall for him at first sight, you wanted to get closer but you were always reminded how worthless you are and that someone like him would never bother batting their eyes to you.

And yet, he's here. In the flesh.

"What are you doing here?" You praised yourself for not stuttering in his presence. He merely shrugged before standing a few meet away from where you're sitting.

"I missed the chance to greet the host a blessed birthday, only to know that they've disappeared. Do you have a habit of playing hide and seek among your peers?" The satirical undertone must've flew over your ear and you looked at him, slightly aghast.

"H-How did you know I wasn't there?"

No one paid attention to you. So why would he?

He sighed, "Didn't you hear me? I was going to greet you but you somehow vanished in your party."

"You searched for me?"

He scoffed, "I'm here, aren't I? What kind of host would leave their debutante party behind?"

"You could've gone with your evening without pleasantries. It wouldn't reflect on your reputation, only mine, so why bother go all through this trouble to find me?" He gave you a blank look, but his eyes blinked in slight disbelief at your query.

"It wasn't trouble finding you, really. . . unless you prefer being alone at the moment, I can leave."

"No! I mean — ehem. . . you can stay." You muttered, an underlying embarrassment was present in your voice.

He perched an eyebrow. "You are an odd one as the rumors say."

It was a turning point to you. Being emotionally repressed and touch starved you are, you wanted more after the first sign of attention from him.

He gave you an ounce of your need to be seen, to be acknowledged, to be worthy of someone's time. It was enough for you to take it as a sign to pursue him.

But you realized a little too late that he would never reciprocate your feelings and the so-called "love" you have for him is the result of years being deprived from any compassion. You've mistaken hunger for love.

"Now you know the reason behind my desperation of escape and the need to change in order to succeed. Truthfully, I don't know if I'm doing the right thing of being considerate and all that. I have to apologize for making such attempts without researching." You made a mental note to visit the library later.

"Anyway, I've said many things today. Let's settle — OMPH!"

A gloved hand wrapped around your wrist and you were pulled backwards, only to softly bumped against a firm chest. "H-Huh? What's the matter, Duke?" You dumbly asked as you tilted your head up to glance at him.

His bangs shrouded whatever expression he has on his face. "You have my permission to call me Alatus, be it in public or private."

"Oh, OK." You're quite baffled what his actions are supposed to convey. Isn't he supposed to dislike physical contact?

"I first saw you as an incompetent noble, a typical royalty who's strength is heavily reliant on outward beauty." Damn, you should add straightforwardness in your compliments for him. "I've seen pretty faces everywhere, yours is nothing special."

"I've heard enough!" You tugged away from his grip, stinging tears threaten to fall. To think your only strength has been trampled on just like that feels like your hope vanishing. Your face is your only gateway to freedom and it—

"Tis why I am amazed to see you acquiring new strengths in your arsenal." E/C eyes found themselves clashing with Alatus' golden hues, there's a glint of emotion you couldn't decipher.

"Your Hi — Y/N, I promise to get you out of this hellhole. Our contract can exceed the 6 month rule for all I care." A blooming emotion spreads in you. He cares enough to finally notice you and your pain, and he's here to help you.

Don't get the wrong idea, self. He's helping me as an ally because he has a good heart. But I know I don't deserve someone so kind and he doesn't deserve someone so broken. I understand our fate is only meant for this; my savior and his misfortune.

You sighed as you remind yourself with that set boundaries. "You have no idea how much that means to me. Thank you, Alatus."

"There's nothing to be grateful for. I'm happy to help someone in need, it's more than enough."

You smiled. And his heart skipped a beat.

A pretty face with a genuine bright grin.

You're beautiful when you're being you.

No bitterness. No ill-concealed pain. He has to rethink his words about your ''mediocre'' beauty.

It pisses me off when you sell yourself short with degrading thoughts, you're no mere ornament. You deserve to be loved, Y/N. I admire your strength and determination. You're a lot stronger than I was when I needed the strength to fight, you're someone I aimed to be in my darkest time. So, keep going and don't ever hesitate to call my name for help.

Little did they both know, Y/N was falling out of love while Alatus is falling in.

𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐈!𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐄 as 𝐑𝐄𝐙𝐄𝐅 𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋 !

Many wise nobles would not dare cross paths with Prince Scaramouche Hill, his temperamental issues and rude behavior garnered him the reputation of a tyrant, but Y/N L/N had never counted themselves among the very wise.

You're the main character in every horror movie that instead of getting away from the first sign of danger, you run towards it because. . . why not? Where's the story if they'd just run away?

Wouldn't you guess it. You accepted his marriage proposal.

Now the question lingers: WHY?!

"Now, now. . . There is no need for such hasty decisions, for if such marriage were to be cancelled, then so too would the beneficial ties between our families. Is this what you truly want? A marriage for political convenience is what is being sought here, not love."

His ingenious words has been embedded in your mind ever since you avidly rejected the marriage proposal from the Empress herself. Making it much more difficult to retire on grounds of a healthy rejection was a rather callous way of dealing with part of the problem when the Prince himself outrightly called you out.

From the get-go, he was a walking red flag blessed with bewitching charms that you have fallen victim to. You've heard the rumors, he's anything but a saint, his looks might say otherwise but you've acquainted with his ugly side to conclude that your life will be full of thorns once you've wed.

This callous sentiment should chill you — maybe it would, if you heeded the alarm bells ringing in your mind — but fascination triumphs over any deterrent. What would it be like to get to know this Prince? Can I make this marriage work?

#icanfixhim

The wedding ceremony went smoothly, vows were pronounced and rings were exchanged. Though the two of you never really said it aloud, you both weren't ready for the. . . "marital duties"

For tonight, the servants prepared the room the newlyweds will share with unimaginable extravagance, there were rose petals littered in a heart shaped in your bed, candles on each of the bedside table and two bottles of what it looks like strong liquor across the room, definitely intended.

You entered the shared room gripping your nightwear and promptly chugging down the liquor at your leisure.

Scaramouche is yet to come in this new room, part of you hoped you'll be too drunk to fulfill the marital duties. But as you look at the window, mirroring your inner turmoil, you know it's pointless.

It’s a moonless night, heavy with the weight of regret, shattered dreams and a long road of loveless marriage.

You clutched the remnants of your sanity and drowned yourself in the bitter solace of liquid courage to feel the emotions you’d been avoiding. If you'll lose everything in one night, might as well be under the influence to numb the feelings away.

The bottle was harshly snatched from your hand. "Do you plan to do this while you are drunk? Is this what they have taught you?" Came from your new husband.

The liquor did the best job to give you the courage to speak up to him, something that you lacked when he snagged your confidence at the lowest as you rejected this marriage.

"Someone has to be educated in the bedroom?" There's a sardonic undertone as you sway your head. "Well, pardon me, Prince. You barged in my home, proposed this bullshit and expect me to be knowledgeable in the art of pleasure in one week?"

You drunkenly stood up and mustered your best glare-that-can-put-you-sixfeet-under. "You. . . I gave you a benefit of a doubt and accepted this marriage thinking you're a subject of those biased rumors, but you absolutely pale in comparison."

This is where you're expecting expletives insults from him, his pride has been put to the test and Scaramouche was not known for his leniency.

In your drunken stupor, only the blur outline of his masculinity shadows your figure. Before you could retort anything else, he had lunged himself to you, specifically towards your lips.

Surprised marred your drunken face, what's more surprising was how gentle he moved his lips with yours, you'd expect him to be rough in intimacy which what greatly contributed to your anxiety but his gentle actions made you think otherwise.

Are we really doing this?

A hand cupped your cheek as if guiding you to tilt your head to the side while yours gripped the bed sheets. His lips traversed the corner of your lips down to your jaw, rendering you speechless as breathy moans escaped.

He must have noticed your reaction and promptly detached himself from you and you can finally breathe.

"I'm only marking you," His voice was incredibly soft, it was like another soul possessed his body, "We both don't want this. . . whether by obligation or not and I won't cross it. At least by marking you, it'll make people think we have done it."

Scaramouche raised your chin slightly and lifted your face towards him. Now both your faces were looking at each other. He was staring deep into your eyes, as if he was looking for your permission.

There's a certain way Scaramouche takes in your appearance — a thorough observation that doesn't miss the smallest detail about you.

What he sees are things he's familiar with. An enticing body and face which speaks of power and a strong will. A sharp mind, which makes him feel he's found an equal in intelligence. Someone who he wouldn't have to manipulate or trick into submission. . . because he knows he could get there with affection and a proper hand. And, perhaps above all, the way you look at him. As he does to you. . . there's a burning desire.

Why does he have to make this difficult for me?

His hands slide over your body in a smooth, slow way which makes your mind go numb. His hands cup you and caress the shape of your form. Your eyes close as his hands take their place in your hair. . . holding it like a trophy.

With the way he was raised by the Empress, Raiden Shogun, it shouldn't come as a surprise that Scaramouche views you as a property to own rather than a living human who possessed feelings.

The taste, the feeling of his lips against your neck, his breath against your neck. It's intoxicating. . . and leaves you gasping for more and your stomach fluttering. You feel his lips trail towards your neck, and just when you thought he'd move up to your lips — he sinks his teeth in just enough to leave a mark without hurting you.

"This should be enough."

As quickly as he left the mark so was his presence in the room as he hastily stood up and left without making so much noise.

The morning after your consummation, you thought he might treat you a little better than before but he seemed to have reversed back to his old self once again. Archons!

When nothing goes his way he'll use you as a ventilation, and you took every jabbing words and flying objects thrown. You never once complained, not when you know his soft side.

Pitied looks and whispers of sympathy were your daily highlights, everyone in the castle knows how badly the Prince has been treating you since the first day. But that's not true, he treated you like a human on your consummation night, he was more than a Prince with temper tantrums.

If only you can understand His Highness, though. Try as you might. . . You just didn't get him. It seemed like he was made up of several personalities that were constantly getting in each other's way.

"Fuck." Scaramouche was now slumped on the floor.

It was one of those days he'd use you as his target of frustration, nothing new. Scaramouche has tendency to temper tantrums. But today, his eyes brimmed with tears.

Scaramouche himself probably wasn't aware of his vulnerability, he would immediately leave your room and do god knows what.

"Your Highness?" Your meek voice was barely comprehensible in his ears, he was visibly trembling with his head tucked in his arms.

"Go away!" Despite his harsh refute, there's an underlying tone of a defeated man. It hurts to see him like this, nobody deserves to experience pain no matter the circumstances of their birth — Scaramouche shouldn't be an exception to this.

"But you're in pain." You frowned deeply and kneeled beside his trembling form, far enough to not trigger his fight or flight instinct.

"I'm always in pain!" He was shouting and mumbling to himself, but it didn't slip past your senses that he was almost whining about his situation, similar to a child crying out for his mother.

"You don't have to be if you let people help you."

"Help me. . .?" He reiterated the words as if it's in foreign language.

A sense of dread flood your senses as you silently gulped, but you remained rooted in your spot beside him.

"Yes, I know you're not used to it, you're probably denying it in your head as I speak. I won't force you to seek help, but know that someone would be willing to help you." Lies, he knew your words were baseless reassurance to make him feel better.

"Yeah, and I treat you well." He sputtered those words with condescending ire and finally look up to you with so much loathsome in his purple eyes. "You're no different than the people who have deceived me."

Your eyebrows shot in surprise. So he had people who took him for granted? It's no wonder he was shaped like this — spiteful and vindictive. It was easier for him like this, to let people hate him than take advantage of whatever's left of him.

"I'm not deceiving you, Your Highness. I'm willing to help you."

"Do you take me as an idiot? Words hold no value or truth behind them." He spat bitterly and a firm scowl marred his expression before he sauntered to the exit.

"Willing?" He scoffed and finally stood up, unraveling his height that was only inch taller than yours. "Don't make me laugh, people like you always have ulterior motives to help."

"I'm not like one of those people. I give you my word for that."

"Your words prove me nothing. Get out of my sight!"

"But this is my room. . ."

His eyes twitched. "This is our room."

"Okay! I'll go!" You surrendered and stumbled your way out of the room without looking back.

Scaramouche wasn't aware when it began, he does know the feeling started off as a small simmer from a pot of heated water. He finds himself beginning to notice every small detail of you.

It began with him noticing the small dimples on your cheek when you smile or laugh with your full heart instead of the prim and proper laugh from etiquette lessons.

He noticed your habits depending on your mood — your hands become restless when anxious, your eyes dart anywhere but his eyes when you're uncomfortable, or the way you bit your lip when feeling awkward.

Is this. . .

Love. Scaramouche hated that word for love is always affiliated with trust which both reeked of vulnerability, and the sort of emotion that the Prince couldn't afford to display — not when all it had ever done in the past was cause him torment. The past, he had felt resentful because the Empress had handed over too much baggage unilaterally to him — his Princely upbringing, the sole heir duties, arranged marriage. Damn it all.

Thereafter, he had acquired unnecessary headaches from his supposed spouse. He had wrongly assumed your character, for after showing you early signs of his apparent animosity, it only fed your burning curiosity.

He was quick to chalk it up as your naivety, you did reject the proposal for the sole purpose of finding true love.

Only fools would expect love from a mere paper contract. If he had any sympathy left he would gladly drown you with it.

But his assumptions got stomped when you displayed regal actions against the nobles who badmouthed you about the marriage. It was expected that negative rumors would spread and most people would merely pretend they're deaf. You, on the other hand, confronted them and stood up for yourself.

You're far from naive, it seems. If not naive, then what's driving you to endure his treatment and keep leeching from him? The question blanketed his mind for weeks.

You, who's ever curious about the Prince and the the said Prince befuddled by your actions. Put it together and it creates subtle transition in your relationship.

He starts letting you engage him in conversations, as silly as they were sometimes. His answers were still brimming with condescension and ire, but somehow you couldn't shake the feeling that they somehow lacked the bite. . . the intention to hurt.

Or maybe you were just too numb to register it. Either way, you're liking the subtle changes in your relationship.

"HEY!" You gasped and bolt right up, trickle of perspiration on your temples. "W-What. . .?"

Scaramouche was beside you, his usual glare plastered on his face, but his hands are drawing circles on your back, soothing your labored breaths.

For every shift, there's the touch of his hand, the sound of his smooth voice that promises to protect you. His eyes follow you even in your shaking — the light reflected in them assuring that they won't disappear.

"Relax, reality is more often terrifying than nightmares."

Very reassuring.

Scaramouche's expression is somber as he regards you in the dark. There's a bit of hesitation before he reaches out to you. . . embracing you, like a blanket being your safe haven from the Boogeymen.

"I'm here, there's no need to fear." He whispered quietly as his grasp adjusts to be gentler against the softness of your skin as you trembled.

This is him. This is Scaramouche Hill.

This is what you were curious and hoping to see from him. No pedantical micromanagement, no cruelty born of mistrust and ill experience. Just Scaramouche, passionate, attentive and content. Kind in his own way, sardonic and inquisitive, not as selfish as everyone assumed. It was such a privilege to see it.

𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐄 as 𝐉𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐘 𝐀𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐄 !

They say there's a fine line between sanity and madness — Childe Agriche has a foot on both sides. And as the youngest son in the House of Black Agriches, he's the most 'normal' and 'enthusiastic' being you can meet in the manor.

You were a simple commoner who heard the rumors circulating the Black Agriches, if it taught you anything is that Agriches repay kindness with gold and insults with death. Yeah, a family you won't dare to cross with.

Apparently you don't share the same sentiment as your parents as they were too deep of their dept with the Agriche.

But they were spared and in exchange of their mercy, your parents sold you off with them to work in their house. They didn't even bat an eye and shoved you down to your knees.

You felt every kinds of betrayal that exist and snitched on your parents by exposing them of their illegal deeds and what they did to their money that put them in that situation.

Enraged, the head of the Agriche swiftly beheaded them and took you in the manor. It was a relatively quiet mansion, you thought you were going to die in the next few hours but you found yourself suddenly face to face with gleaming mischievous cerulean eyes that seems to enrapture you.

"Who you might be? A new toy for my siblings?" His jovial tone makes you think he's such a harmless creature, which was proven incorrect when he suddenly revealed of wanting you as his pet.

Did he mean slave? Surely he won't potty train you or tell you to sit and roll in front of strangers like a child(e), would he?

"Stand down, Childe. This is Y/N, a new addition of our workers." His father introduced before lighting a cigarette.

He scoffed, "We already have so many workers. Why don't they just become my pet instead?" You had to hold back the broadening of your eyes at this. What on Earth is wrong with these people?

The head of the Agriche merely shrugged as he waves a dismissive hand. "Do what you want." Your heart dropped at the nonchalant response. It'd be better if you get to work in the mansion, not be someone's slave.

An arm was suddenly draped over your shoulders. "Awesome! My name is Childe Agriche, you're now my new pet. So, let me break it down for you; you obey, reward. You disobey, punishment. Simple."

Did I mention he enjoys toying with his victims and making them his pet? Pet, as in putting a collar and chaining you up in the basement? And what was that again? He's supposed to be the most normal?

You're either stuck in a room where he claims to be your cage or following him in around the manor with the collar still on.

At first, you were scared what he might do to you, but it turns out he really honors his words. You obey him and nothing bad will ever happen to you. It really is that simple as he said.

You've heard how other Agriches tend to torture their pets for doing mistakes or even obeying as they're told. You haven't seen the display of power within the Agriches for Childe insists you stay in your cellar room, but the rumors you've heard guaranteed your every caution in meeting new people in the manor, even a maid.

With Childe, however, it doesn't automatically warrant punishment for a simple mistake. He opts to teach you what's right and wrong.

It's unbelievable how patient he is with you, it's more unbelievable to think he's an Agriche with this kind of attitude.

One day, he entered your cell and announced that you'll be living together with him in his room. The collar will have to remain for the sake of your 'safety' as he claimed. Thus, you found yourself laying on a thin satin silk mattress that left no little discomfort.

It didn't seem like he has many tasks to deal within the household, he'd occasionally be away for a few hours before returning bloody murder with crimson stains on his royal clothes.

Driven by a tinge of concern, you couldn't stop your mouth from asking. "What happened? Are you alright?" It was the first time you had seen him what the rumors would potray about him.

His eyebrows furrow in bafflement. "You're. . . asking me if I'm alright?" He asked, almost in disbelief that such question exists.

"Of course! Look at your clothes. How can you expect me not to worry?" Your courageous episode ended when you realized the mistake, you lowered your head. "I apologize. I didn't mean to come out as impudent—"

Your statement was cut short when a cold hand grasped your chin and tilt your head up. Those cerulean eyes never fails to instill the butterflies in your stomach.

"I didn't realize how cute you are until now." His voice dropped a few octaves low it sent shivers in your spine, "Nobody has ever asked about my health, and then there's you — chained up in my bed, concern for me." He chuckled, the type of chuckle that tells you he enjoys a good prey, that he likes how far you will go for him— he's testing you.

Even being concern can get you in trouble?! What's next? I'm getting punished just by breathing?!

"I don't mean no harm." Your demure voice only made him more elated.

"Oh, dear Y/N. Even if you do, there's no way you can land a hit on me," he paused, swiping his tongue out to wet his lower lip. "But fortunately, I'm a masochist myself. I might allow you to bite me if you behave~"

He really is an Agriche.

"Getting back. Are you really OK?" It took every innermost strength in you to divert the topic.

In response, he flashed you a cheeky smile before his hand slowly descended on the base of your neck. Latching his gloved fingers around until he's holding you in a chokehold.

He hasn't done anything, yet your breath hitched.

"You're so small and vulnerable, I can easily snap your neck like this." Proving his point, he added pressure which now made you choke and clasped your hands on his wrist out of reflex. "And yet, you're asking me if I'm OK?"

The pressure on your neck didn't loosen one bit, it feels like he has no intention of actually hurting you, just setting an example of what he can potentially do to you.

You barely can breath, not only because of his hold on your neck, but also the fact he's unbearably close your breaths are mingling as you exhale. You feel like fainting.

"B-Because I don't like seeing you hurt!"

His expression dropped instantaneously. An undecipherable emotion passed his countenance as his strands casted shadow over his blue eyes.

"T-Tartaglia?" Was his alter ego.

He insisted on you calling him by that name.

"Why?"

"What?"

"Why do you care?"

You ask yourself the same question, any sane person wouldn't think twice to care for a cold hearted killer, but any sinner like him wouldn't treat you with such kindness.

"Is such reason needed? I saw you stained with blood, it's natural for me to fret."

". . ."

"Aww~" He cooed, finally loosening the hold on your neck.

What an odd reaction. You took a huge inhale and nearly slide down as your knees weakened, but he has his arm around you to keep your equilibrium in balance.

You felt his gloved hand tilting your chin up, his bright blue eyes swirled with emotions you couldn't deduce.

Everything he's doing alerts your senses to run, but your body just craves for more of his touch. Archons above! I'm losing my mind! The way he looks you like a predator — a hungry and sadistic animal, looking to ravage your soul. He's a dangerous, charismatic and highly intelligent man. A twisted fantasy.

"You know what, you'll be my significant other!"

"WHAT?!"

"And you should call me Ajax from now on, too!"

How many names does he have?!

The next thing you know was Childe's entire personality shifting. He freed you from the chains and treats you like a true royalty. Childe innate possessiveness of you increased tenfold after he was exposed to your gentle side.

Overwhelming was the right word for what you felt after a few days of his behavior.

But your "boyfriend" kept insisting in gift giving, it's his primary love language. You mentioned your favorite food? He'll have it on the dining table. You fancy a clothing? Consider the whole shop yours. Someone being an asshole to you? Expect a dried head by your doorstep.

Make no mistake in kidnapping his S/O — he'll rain down all kinds of hell. Sadly (not really) some people just don't heed warnings and accept death so readily.

The temperature in the room seemed to grow colder in cadence with the ice in Childe's gaze. "You mean to tell me, that you are all incompetent to do a simple task of guarding my room where my S/O was? And now they're gone?"

*SPLAT* *THUMP*

One head rolled over

Nobody breathed.

"For every minute you fail to bring the culprit in my playroom equates for a head. If I happen to find them before any of you — don't expect a one way to ticket to hell. I will guarantee to entertain all of you along with the perpetrators."

Childe Agriche loves to play and this was one of his games. Touche! As if he can expect those vacuous idiots to find Y/N.

The door closed with an ominous boom that echoed throughout what sounded like a massive but empty chamber.

Childe knew anger, he was well acquainted with the said red emotion but he had always try to mask it under the pretense of a funny and boisterous man. This time however, he's been uncharacteristically calm and everyone in the manor feels like walking on a tip of a knife.

They wouldn't understand, none of those imbeciles would know what it feels to be with Y/N. He scoffed as he sharpens his arrowhead before placing it in his quiver. There was no time to waste, he wants you back in his arms.

And he did.

With bloodshed, of course.

"GAHHH!"

Childe moved swiftly and gracefully, so much so they had trouble keeping up with him. He came up behind one of the culprits the one that was holding you captive, and broke his neck rather quickly before slashing at another who was nearby.

He quickly ducked, avoiding the enemy coming up from behind, and grabbed his arm, flipping him over, and pinning him down. Suddenly a loud shrill was heard as a bone cracked, and then he moved on the other.

Blood dripped from his fingers, but before a drop could even hit the floor, he’d already struck dead another one, splattering even more blood. One by one the went down, until they’d all been wiped out, annihilated by their supposed prey. They were outmatched by the youngest Agriche.

And by the glint in Childe’s cerulean eyes, he was clearly enjoying the thrill of the kill. The Agriche barely even broke a sweat, his breathing remaining even despite the number of men he had been fighting against him.

Against the occluded moon, he stalked towards your unconscious form and lifted you bridal style, Childe looked more like a predator than a lover, a hunt ending with the prey pinned and helpless. The smell of death permeated the frigid air. Only corpses lay around him.

Holding the unconscious Y/N in his arms, his expression did not once flinch. It was as if he was only holding a feather. Amidst the night, his figure glided on the ground agile and light, before finally disappearing behind the shadows of the nearby trees. . .

You woke up a little disgruntled and already felt the pain in your head flaring as soon as you forced yourself awake. So much for being Childe's S/O, it comes with a free package of his enemies hunting you down.

"Y/N, you're awake." You heard an unusually soft voice beside you as you felt the bed shifts in weight followed by a bone crushing hug from your-supposed-lover.

Pain flared in your abdomen and you had to bite back a grimace. "I swear you're not leaving my sight ever again." His breath is like the scent of night-blooming jasmine on the breeze: soft and soothing, yet sweet and enticing, effectively distracting you from the pain.

If you only you had witnessed the bloodshed you would think twice than to fall for his honeyed words.

"Y-You have blood on your clothes. . ." The indication of your query made him smirked. "It's my trophy."

You decided not to probe any further. In his language, that meant another massacre to stain his clothes and it only means whoever abducted you reached the other side as such a young age.

"Thank you for saving me. . ."

His eyes softened as he chuckled. "You're thanking the same man who shed blood for you?"

"I'm thanking the man who cares enough about me." You refuted.

You were too absorbed in hugging him back that you failed to notice the eerie smile on his lips. His next words were spoken next to your ear, laced with obvious unhinged obsession over you.

"Right, I'm the only one who would save you in face of danger and care for your well-being. No other people can do as much as I can for you, so stay with me forever, Y/N."

Was it your imagination or did you just see a psychotic grin?

𝐊𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐀 𝐀𝐋𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐇 as 𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐑𝐄𝐘 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐙𝐋𝐎 !

How atrocious can your life get when you learned the news of your husband handpicking a concubine for himself, then the said trash woman actually has the guts to call you her in-law just because you have the same husband.

Now, you pride yourself for being patient, courageous and intelligent. You wouldn't have ruled an empire if it wasn't for your educated upbringing. But even a ruler like you can feel overwhelmed and burned out, and would find a temporary solace to cry your heart out.

The fact your husband picking his concubine is not the issue inconveniencing you the most. It was his and that man-stealer attitude is what suffocated you the most.

Outrageous to see the trash playing the victim card and shedding fat crocodile tears just to earn your husband's favor. Audacious to think of herself as the same level as you when she doesn't even know basic etiquette rules and the difference between a garbage and herself. Humiliating on how he made you a fool on many occasions and sided with his mistress while everyone whispered on how the Emperor favored his concubine over his own S/O.

And he dare say you're not allowed to have an affair?

Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.

Which lead you in a secluded forest to vent out your feelings and temporarily get away from all that's happening in the palace. You're perched beside a rock while your head is tucked in your crossed arms, burying your head, silently weeping in the depths of the green environment.

*FLAP* *FLAP* *FLAP*

You reluctantly raise your head to investigate the noise, of course you knew it was some type of bird, but you were curious what type of bird it was as you rarely get to visit nature. You'd appreciate a little company even if it's from an avian creature.

Majestic, charming, jaw dropping, and everything synonymous to the word beautiful can be attached to this mystical bird.

What caught your attention the most was its beautiful midnight blue and cerulean ombre feathers, you've never seen such bird in the books you've read let alone see one in real life. Next was its body that's bigger than your head and a wingspan that's almost in par with the length of your arms spread open. And lastly, the note tied to its leg.

"How beautiful. Will you allow me to touch you?" You didn't even notice yourself nearing the bird. A slight hesitance made you flinched when the bird nailed its bright eyes on you. Even the eyes resembled the finest jewel in your kingdom.

You retracted your hand under the assumption you had scared the bird. However, the surprise entered your face when the bird flapped its wings and perched on your suspended hand in the air. It looks like it doesn't sense you as a threat. That's a good start.

Admiring nature's blessing, you caught the note tied to its legs which made you think if this bird is a pet of some noble. "Hmm, are you lost? Based on your looks, you don't look like a wild animal that happened to stumble upon this forest by accident."

You took the note from its feet and read the content;

"I am a guest from abroad who will soon arrive at the new year's ceremony, and I write this note while drunk."

An amused chuckle left your lips as you look back at the bird who's tilting its head in curiosity of your reaction. "I'm sorry, your master sounds like an interesting person and a pain in the back. I feel bad you lost your way here. Hmm. . . should I write back?"

It wasn't even a question, you hastily fish out your pocket pen and wrote a sassy reply at the back of the piece of parchment. Hopefully it doesn't offend the owner of the bird.

You tied the note once again the rubbed its head one last time. "Off you go, little one. Deliver my message to your drunk master and fly your way back home safely."

The bird spreads its wings before taking flight.

You sighed once you lost sight of the avian creature.

Suddenly, you were harshly reminded of your duties and the circumstances you're currently in. As much as possible you don't really want to deal with another mistress-related issues within the palace and have your husband pin the blame on you. Crestfallen, you made your way back to the palace.

What you didn't know was the pair of jewel-like eyes following your movement from one of the tallest trees.

"What an interesting person." A man chuckled as he held up the note that was recently tied to his leg.

It was none other than the blue avian creature that has assumed the image of a man possessing a tanned complexion and navy-blue hair with streaks of lighter blue, accompanied by a waist-length lock of hair that's being held by a low ponytail.

As he reads the content of your message, he couldn't help but feel intrigued by what had occurred prior to you noticing his presence. Why were you crying? Crying doesn't suit a beautiful person like you, especially a sassy one at that.

"Your bird has found its way to me, if it is able to find its way back, I shall be relived, for it means it must be cleverer than its inarticulate drunk master." Sassy yet regal, indeed.

A lopsided grin adorned his lips. "So it seems I must cleverly find my way back to you if I want to see you again, Your Highness. And I must say, I love a good challenge."

Days have become grueling for you to endure, but you persevered through it all. The mistress has become more comfortable in causing ruckus in the palace just to get the Emperor's attention on her.

You don't really care about all the shenanigans she's planning to pull so long as it doesn't interfere in your line of work as a wise ruler.

Then one day, the similar bird you found in the forest came flying at your balcony and kept scratching the glass pane to get your attention.

You gasped once you realized who it was. "It's you again. How are you so good in finding me?" And it seems as though it has a new note attached to its leg.

"I'd like to think I'm a bit more intelligent than a bird. I've now woken up from my drunken stupor."

You giggled at the person's confidence. "Lumine, get me a pen and paper, will you?" You addressed to your attendant standing by the doorway.

"It seems as if you haven't woken up completely. What is the bird's name?"

Lumine, your attendant, commented at the ardor look on your face. "It's fun for you too, isn't it, Your Majesty?"

"A bit. . .?" You coyly replied, this little interaction with the bird and its master is the highlight of your day. Not even the whole mistress thing can be bothered right now.

As if challenging your thoughts, your husband walked in after you just sent away the bird with the letter of yours.

The conversation was tad too accusing, saying you're spreading rumors about the mistress to drag her down. Ha! Even if the rumors were false, it speaks volume.

You left the palace once again, to your safe haven.

It seems as though it's going to be your hobby to seclude yourself when no one's watching and let the nature be a witness of your depressive moments.

*FLAP* *FLAP* *FLAP*

Hearing the familiar flapping, you subconsciously stretched out your arm for the bird to land.

"It's you again!"

And a new note.

"Is such thing needed? You may name it, if you'd like."

"What an indifferent master." You sighed at the response and gaze at the bird. "A kind, intelligent bird like you deserves a name which befits your character. So your name shall be. . ."

"Queen."

Unbeknownst to you, the bird bristled at the name.

"Thank you for coming to see me, Queen. I'm in good spirits now, thanks to you." You embraced the bird and pecked its beak. "I hope you will come visit me again."

The bird flew toward the inky sky. Anyone wouldn't be able to tell the slight blush coating his head.

He landed a few hectares from your and transformed back to his naked human form.

"Archons above. How could they name a man, "Queen"?" He rubbed his dark blue hair. Seemingly sheepish for being mistaken as a girl.

"What was that?" A new voice spoke.

It belonged to the red bird perched on the branches.

"You said you'd go survey the premises. Did you take another detour again?" The miffed tone is impossible to miss. He flew down and morphed to a man with luscious crimson hair that cascades down to his waist and sharp tantalizing red eyes.

"No, of course not. I went to reconnoiter the Imperial Palace."

"Did you really?"

"You don't believe me, brother?"

He gave his brother a sharp glare. "You haven't given me enough reason to. But do remember your position and responsibility, especially in this foreign country."

"I get it. Don't have to nag me, Diluc."

Kaeya Laszlo, first in line to the throne of the Khaenri'ah Kingdom. The center of many rumors, such as those which describe his great cruelty or great beauty.

A few of those say he's a Casanova, and that he associates with dangerous pirates hence why he hasn't met any woman or man of his interest.

And finally, the long awaited New Year's Ceremony came. Noble figures were all invited to celebrate the occasion with your Kingdom as the host.

As for your husband, he's quite busy mingling with his mistress and you were left with your friends.

"Dear god. How shameless is the Emperor to have the face in showing off his. . . unpalatable mistress."

"There is no need for your ire. The law states that the Emperor can take more than one spouse." A tight smile graced your lips.

One of your friends scoffed. "Even it that were the case, a man with a noble heart wouldn't take one more to fulfill his insecurities. You are more than enough and the Emperor does not deserve you."

"Greetings, Your Majesty." An elegant man gracefully interrupted your conversation with your friends.

You turn to look at the man clad in a white-blue knight uniform, specifically more stylish than what you usually on a regular knight at your Kingdom. A Prince, you concluded.

As you shift your apprehensive eyes on him, the little details such accessories and intonation caught your undivided attention.

Silver rings on those long, dexterous fingers, silver necklace around the neck that held his head way too high, silver tongue in that mouth home to all kinds of sins. He was the epitome of being devious; so much so that he could literally walk right off anything by just talking his way out of it.

"I am Kaeya Laszlo, first Prince of the Khaenri'ah Kingdom."

Everyone around you gasped and some almost fainted while you remained level-headed.

"Greetings, Prince Kaeya. I have welcomed you earlier today, but it never crossed my mind to engage a talk to such an esteemed guest of ours."

It's more like I never expected someone like you to approach me. You thought sardonically.

"Do I come off as cold to you, Your Highness? Pardon but that is not my intention, but surely you'll allow me to make worth of your time." He chuckled wistfully, a smirk has overtaken his lips.

Great God. If he endeavoured to make you fall for him as much as possible, then he was doing a splendid job. You just couldn't shake off the feeling that you know this man.

Burst of giggles erupted around you while your eyebrow perched. "Cold? You don't strike me as such, if anything, your bold statement has proven me otherwise."

"Oh, and what would be your answer?"

"I—"

"Of course they agree! Please don't mind us and enjoy your evening together, Prince Kaeya!" One glare against dozens of mischievous eyes is like fighting tooth with nail.

"Shall we?" He offered his hand to guide you in his predestined destination. "I sure hope it is worthwhile, Prince Kaeya." You took his hand and my god was his hand the iceberg.

"Call me Kaeya for starters and I shall call you Y/N."

First name basis already?

"Is that a demand?"

"Does it sound like a demand?"

"It certainly does."

"Well, it is up to you to decide whether to oblige or not." He smiled.

God, it's unfair to have the blessings of charm.

"Where are we going?"

The young man beckoned his head to the exit. "Somewhere your husband won't suspect a thing."

"You really do sound like a Casanova."

"Oh dear, don't tell me you believe those hearsay."

You shrugged. "I do not, but you've been anything as what the rumors have described you thus far."

"You made me curious of you."

"How so?"

Arriving at the garden, he glances at the full moon before turning to stare right at you. "Your eyes are beautiful, yet they also look so empty oftentimes. Your movements and the way you speak are very refined and regal, but they can turn cold, or even rude at times. You're a paradox I'd love to solve, Y/N." Kaeya paused, "But I feel like you're a paradox I could never solve, no matter how hard I try."

This stare off could go on forever, if Kaeya had his way. The tension is obvious, but the air between you both is too tempting — too addicting to resist.

He doesn't look away. . . not one bit and neither do you. His eyes are fixed on yours, his breath steady and his pulse strong. A part of him wants you to make a move. . . to show that you feel as strongly for him as he feels for you.

The other part just wants to steal you away and make you his.

Spoiler alert: he did.

𝐁𝐄𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐓 as 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐊𝐄 !

It's old news for aristocratic children get engaged before they could debut. But in your case, you're not merely marrying a boy of your family's choice.

You're marrying the infamous Monstrous Crown Prince Bennett; the child who was rumored to have been cursed to bring misfortune to those around him. Thus, he has lived his entire life in the confinements of his four walls.

Fretful thoughts flooded your mind as your carriage neared his mansion. Imperial children usually stays at the Imperial Palace with the King and Queen, however in Prince Bennett's case, he was segregated to live in another mansion built specifically for him to stay out of the spotlight — or as others should say it, for him to not spread the curse of bad luck.

You don't usually treat people based on senseless rumors, but you do heed the rumors as a guide for you to be cautious. Prince Bennett is by far the most unknown factor you have to deal with despite the rumors surrounding him. What is he like? Is he a snob? Does he really bring bad luck?

Those thoughts have kept you all night that you didn't have time to sleep. Somewhere along the way, you fell in a deep slumber, ignoring the occasional jerk of the carriage as it hits a bump on the road.

Constant whimpering reminding you of a kicked puppy was what woke you up from your blissful beauty rest.

For a moment, you have forgotten what happened before you fell asleep. Through your blurried vision, you noticed the walls and ceiling looking dull with the simple light shades of painting, the bed you're resting felt foreign to the touch, the minimalist approach from the interior design and lack of other furnitures made you think you're in someone's room.

"G-Gah! Yo-You're awake. . ." A meek voice said from beside you, it's easy to mistaken it as a woman's voice if it wasn't for the boyish undertone.

You blinked several times before adjusting your sight. There's a hooded boy at the very far right of your bedside, and from the looks of it, he seemed terrified to even close an inch gap.

"Who are you?" Was million dollar question. The boy visibly bristled. It's quite clear for you that he's not used to social interaction.

"I-I. . . am Bennett." He spoke with a low, soothing tone that was laced with a soft accent. Despite his voice being smooth and even, he stared back at you with unbidden curiosity, one that seemed to peer into your very soul.

"Bennett?! Oh Lord, I greet His Majesty the Crown Prince!" You promptly bowed your head as low as it can get.

"W-Wait, no, please don't do that! I don't deserve your respect and besides, we're equals now, feel free to call me Bennett if you like."

He doesn't deserve respect? What a load of bullcrap does that mean? A frown has settled deeply in the creases of your forehead. This boy is anything but what the rumors have described him.

"Your Hig— Bennett, you could be an outcast or a peasant and I'd still treat you with respect. Don't say you don't deserve decent manners." You're almost fuming at this point.

"But I'm a monster. I don't deserve anything, even you."

Something in the purity of his statement triggered you.

"I bring bad luck to everyone. I could hurt you in the future and I don't want that, I don't want anyone getting hurt because of me."

You could feel the last of your residual resentment fading away, getting replaced by a deep sense of compassion — as well as a healthy dose of curiosity. What would this boy, your future husband, truly be like?

"You're no monster, Bennett. No monster would be concerned for my well-being and selflessly label themselves as such to ward me off." He seemed to perk up at your claim.

"Don't ever call yourself as such. I can't stand it."

"I don't understand, you're the first one to say that to me."

A frown has settled on your brows as you came to stand next to him. "You don't need to for now, I'll show you."

Bennett was none of those rumors. You have concluded that ever since you met him, he has been kind and considerate to your well-being. You have never met someone who would ask which side of the table they're more comfortable to eat with — not until Bennett.

The boy was overwhelming with perfervid compassion and the strong urge to give love, it can feel suffocating at times but that's what made you like him.

There's just this nagging feeling in your gut that he's forced to act like a doting husband due to the fact you're engaged. Is it all an obligation? Or he's simply this passionate?

"Are you not upset at this?" You had asked one night.

"Upset about what?"

"About our arranged marriage."

Bennett may appear jubilant around you but you can't help to think he harbors ill will to this arrangement. "I see no reason why I would." He replied, smiling at you as per usual.

"Why is that?"

He tear his gaze from you before briefly interlocking your hands. So warm and full of passion, you promptly responded to the gesture by drawing circles with your thumb.

"You're the best thing to happen in my life. I can't explain this feeling but I do know I can't be happy without you. Thank you for coming in my life, Y/N."

━━ 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃. bennett's way too short cuz I ran out of ideas T-T this took wayyyyyy tooooo long, but I'm glad it turned out well. what do you think of this au? I'm planning on making a part 2 for other genshin men, I'm actually starting it already but I still need to finish other prompts.

━━ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. @atsukawolfcat @spyanya @ittosoneandoniwife @a-rose-byanothername @lasignoramybeloved @vvyeislazzy @kokomisimpppp @gookimswife

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kingofbodyrolls · 10 months ago

Text

Friendcation (m) | myg | winter special

You’re in labor and live outside of the city, and it just happens to be Christmas time, there’s a lot of snow. Will you and Yoongi be able to make it to the hospital before your baby arrives?

OR– The one where Yoongi fucks you into labor and crashes the car 🙃 (It’s set about 2 years after friendcation ended) 🙂

→ Pairing: Yoongi x reader (female) → Other characters: Jimin 😇 + the rest of the gang makes an appearance at the end too 💜 → AUs: roadtrip!au, non idol!au, pregnancy!au, established relationship, married!au, mechanic!Yoongi, holiday!au. → Genres: slice of life, humor/crack, smut and fluff → Rating: mature/explicit/R18 (This is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸 → Word Count: 10.3K → Warnings (general) + triggers: sex while pregnant, minor car accident, a lot of crack and humor too, because otherwise it wouldn’t be friendcation. Slight angst. Possessive Yoongi. Jimin deserves a warning too 👀 (it’s always Jimin)! Giving birth in a car in a somewhat detailed description (without medical help). Breastfeeding a baby. A lot of kissing. → Warnings (explicit): smut in the form of unprotected sex, fingering, dirty talk, praise kink, breast play, nipple play (with a little bit of lactation), flashing/exposure of vagina and boobs, comfort sex (Yoongi making sure OC is comfortable the whole time 🥺), strong orgasms, blood (because of childbirth, but barely mentioned). → Author’s note: this couple just wouldn’t leave me alone 😂 So here we are, with a winter special. I really hope you like it. It was so fun to write, I just love their relationship and then also with their friends, especially Jimin 🤭 I might do more specials through time, I don’t know. Don’t know if people are interested (but I’d probably write it anyway, lol). Like, we still don’t know how Yoongi proposed, their wedding, their honeymoon 👀 This has different povs, mainly Yoongi's, then Jimin's and reader's (I hope it isn't too confusing). Thank you so much – and thanks to all that likes, comments, reblogs, yeah, anything. Thank you from the bottom of my heart, it makes me so happy and a damn smiling fool 💜 → Read on AO3? [link] ✨

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He is used to it.

But ever since you became pregnant, it’s been getting worse.

Your sleep moaning, that is.

And it’s always turning him on.

His frustration simmers beneath the surface, fueled by the magnetic allure you effortlessly wield. Yet, with a single glance from you, his resolve melts away like butter on a warm summer day. This magnetic power you wield over him isn't a recent revelation; it's been your enchanting spell, cast long before that memorable camping trip more than a year ago.

Memories surge like a tidal wave, setting his irises ablaze with vivid snapshots of you both, entwined amidst the intimate cocoon of his van, sheets tangled in the echoes of passion.

Countless adventures and camping escapades have unfolded since that fateful journey with your friends, yet it's the kaleidoscope of memories created with you that he holds as precious treasures, each moment a vibrant gem in the tapestry of your relationship.

At last, his gaze shifts towards you, and he beholds the tranquility that graces your sleeping form, nestled beside him. There you lie, on your back nonetheless, which really mustn't be nice considering your big belly.

You’re almost nine months pregnant and the baby can come any minute, he knows.

You’d been trying to conceive for some time, a delightful excuse to have sex all the damn time–although, truth be told, he never needed one.

He feels his dick strain against the confines of his boxers and he wonders whether to rouse you from slumber, it's not merely the urgency of his arousal but the genuine concern for your well-being—your supine position hindering blood flow and oxygen to the precious life within your belly.

Thus, with a tender touch, he delicately stirs you from your peaceful slumber.

Initially met with silence, your slumbering form stirs slightly, emitting a soft murmur of both moans and snores.

A soft chuckle escapes him as he observes your endearing response, yet undeterred, he persists in gently prodding you.

In a hushed and tender tone, he attempts to reach out to you with a gentle “Babe,” his voice a delicate whisper, carrying the weight of affection.

As your head gracefully pivots towards him, your eyes, like delicate butterflies, flutter open in response to the gentle call. A soft smile graces his lips, a silent serenade to the gradual awakening of your consciousness.

As consciousness fully embraces you, your eyes roam the dimly lit room before finding solace in his gaze.”Why did you wake me? It’s the middle of the night…” you inquire, the bedroom's shadows bearing witness to the query that hangs in the air.

With a gentle yawn, you pivot your body, settling into the comforting curve of your side. In the quiet accomplishment of this subtle shift, one of his cherished missions finds completion.

In a tender tone infused with love, he begins, “You were sleeping on your back. It’s not good for the baby,” his words a gentle caress carrying the weight of concern for the precious life cradled within your belly.

A warmth infuses your smile as you meet his gaze, a silent acknowledgment of gratitude for the depth of his concern and the wellspring of love that envelops you both.

And with a playful chuckle lacing his words, he adds, “And you were moaning too.” Your laughter joins his, and you both know what this means.

“You’re always horny, Yoon.” you tease, your hands exploring the contours of his body with purpose. Swiftly finding the elastic of his boxers, you trace the outline of his dick with a deliberate touch, a dance of desire that unfolds seamlessly between you.

Your hand glides sensually over him, a teasing caress through the fabric of his boxers, and a guttural groan of pleasure escapes his lips.

He seizes your hand, bringing a pause to the tantalizing dance between you. “Do you want to, babe?” he inquires, his gaze a reflection of both restraint and anticipation, hanging on the unspoken words between you.

A soft chuckle escapes your lips, your body and mind fully alive, the air already charged with the unmistakable electricity that Yoongi seems to effortlessly ignite within you. You’re already soaked in your panties, and with a whispered moan, you confess, “Yes, I need you Yoongi.”

Gently guiding your hand away from his cock, he inches closer, turning you to lay on your side facing away from him.

Swiftly seizing his pillow, he artfully tucks it beneath the gentle curve of your belly, sculpting a cocoon of support and comfort.

Nestling his head into the crook of your neck, he inhales deeply, savoring the heady and intoxicating essence that is uniquely yours. It's more than a fragrance; it's a potent elixir that courses through him, a sensory drug that elicits an involuntary response—a subtle, primal twitch in the fabric of boxers.

A low, guttural moan escapes his lips, intimately shared in the cocoon of your embrace, as he senses your shiver echo through his touch.His skilled hand embarks on a journey, tenderly caressing your breasts, lingering over the soft expanse of your tummy where the fluttering life within makes its presence known. As his exploration ventures lower, he cups your pussy outside your panties.

Your hips undulate into his dick, a rhythmic dance that draws an involuntary duet of pleasure-laden moans from both of you. His awareness sharpens, attuned to the undeniable evidence of your arousal. With a deliberate touch, he tugs your panties aside, revealing your drenched pussy.

Initiating a delicate exploration, he trails his fingertips along the contours of your folds, gathering the essence of your arousal before skillfully guiding a single digit into the velvety warmth of your desire.

With a rhythmic precision, he starts a sensual dance, his digit sliding in and out of your eager core. Each movement draws forth an increasing symphony of heavy pants, and he can already hear that you’re not gonna last long.

Adding another skilled finger, he intensifies the intimate pleasure, a seamless union of sensation as your bodies synchronize in a provocative dance. Your backside grinds into the rigid length of his desire, fueling his fervor to push the limits further. With an escalating pace, his fingers move within you, a crescendo of pleasure building with every adept stroke.

Breathless and on the precipice of ecstasy, you urgently plead, “I'm so close, Yoongi. Touch my clit instead,” your voice a desperate plea. He complies with a deft move, withdrawing his slickened fingers from the depths of your core to redirect their attention, skillfully navigating the peaks of your pussy with an intoxicating dance against your throbbing clit.

Yoongi has become attuned to the cadence of your breath, a masterful symphony that he has memorized like the back of his hand. In the harmonious rhythm, he discerns the telltale signs that you are on the precipice of ecstasy—so close that the intoxicating anticipation hangs in the air like an electric charge.

His fingers move in a tantalizing dance, tracing circles around your clit with an intimate familiarity. As he senses you teetering on the brink, your breaths hang heavy in the charged air, and the ethereal moans escape your lips like a whispered melody. In a bold move, he pinches your clit. Your body responds in an electric surge, tension radiating through every inch of your being, held in the exquisite grip of his deliberate touch.

Returning to the rhythmic circles on your clit, he guides you through the waves of your orgasm, a seismic tremor that reverberates through your being. Each stroke of his touch acts as a steady anchor, grounding you in the aftermath of what feels like an earth-shattering climax.

You gasp for air, your breaths coming in furious bursts, and in a voice drawn out with need, you moan his name—a melody of pleasure that lingers in the charged air between you.

“'Fuck!” escapes you in a guttural moan, your hands clenching into fists under the watchful gaze of his darkened, appreciative eyes.

Withdrawing his hand from the depths of your core, he endeavors to temper the tempestuous movements coursing through you, a steadying touch anchoring your fervent reactions with a gentle grip on your hips.

“'Damn. It's like the orgasm is lingering,” you confess in a strained voice, leaving Yoongi uncertain whether to interpret it as a blissful prolongation or a potential intensity that might overwhelm you.

“What do you mean?” he inquires, his voice a warm breath against your neck.

“It's just... I can feel it all the way around my stomach,” you pant, the lingering sensations creating a unique symphony within you. “Ah, it's probably Braxton Hicks contractions, because of the orgasm,” you assert with a newfound certainty. In response, Yoongi hums in acknowledgment, his hand delicately finding its place on your belly, where he can feel the subtle tightness.

“Are you sure it’s just that?” he questions, his concern etched in the furrow of his brow. Yet, as your assurance unfolds, a palpable relaxation courses through the muscles of your belly. “Yeah, they're fading now,” you confirm.

“Yoongi, I need you inside me now,” you declare, your words a sultry plea as you sensually grind your ass into the rigid bulge within his boxers.

With a sharp intake of breath, he hisses, seizing your hips in a possessive grip, molding you against the heat of his pelvis.

Effortlessly, he peels your panties down your thighs, and you willingly lift your legs to aid in their complete removal. As he holds the damp evidence of your arousal in his hand, a wicked glint in his eyes betrays the realization, damn they are soaked. Without a second thought, he discards them to the floor.

“'Is this position comfortable for you?” he tenderly inquires, a gentle concern threading through his words as he sheds his boxers. Adjusting his position, he moves slightly, aligning himself with the contours of your core from behind.

“Yeah, I’m good.”

Lying down and approaching from behind, the fit feels unusually snug. Yoongi, with deliberate intent, spreads your ass cheeks, his hand tracing a teasing path before he strokes his arousal, the anticipation building. As he aligns with the entrance to your core, a slow and deliberate entrance ensues, eliciting a moan from you.

An almost primal growl escapes your lips as he sinks in, each agonizingly slow inch a delicious torment. It's not just amazing; it's an exquisite tightness that makes you acutely aware of his presence, as if you can feel him reverberating through every fiber of your being, from the deepest reaches of your pussy to the intimate confines of your uterus.

Yoongi indulges in a series of deliberate thrusts, each movement a slow dance that unveils the exquisite tightness enveloping him. With each rhythmic advance into your core, he keenly senses the escalating tension in your body.

“Yoon,” you pant, the syllables a breathless plea that lingers in the charged air. Yoongi, attuned to your every reaction, halts his movements, his hand tenderly caressing your cheek. “I can feel you everywhere inside, fuck.”

“Is it good, or should we stop?” he asks, a genuine concern etched across his features. His desire is not just for pleasure but for your comfort and satisfaction.

“No, it's good for now, but I'll let you know if it gets too intense, okay? Maybe we can change positions then?” you inquire, your voice a sultry whisper that hangs in the air. As you sensually grind your ass down into his pelvis, fucking yourself on his cock, a soft moan leaves your lips.

Yoongi releases a low, guttural moan against the sensitive skin of your neck, his reverberating pleasure mingling with lust between you. His hand journeys down the curve of your hips, gripping them with a possessive urgency. In this tactile exchange, he finds stability, a grounding force that allows him to drive into you once more, each thrust a testament to the fervor building between you.

As you surrender completely against him, a harmonious synchrony of pleasure unfolds. Sensing the shift, he accelerates his thrusts, a rhythmic dance that quickens the desire between you.

Yoongi inhales deeply against the canvas of your neck, and in a sudden, electrifying twist, you feel the graze of his teeth. Your body shivers with anticipation, and then he descends, sinking his teeth into your neck. Not too forcefully, but with a compelling intensity that sends a jolt of electricity down your spine. Your body responds in kind, grinding against his, and a sinful moan escapes you.

Then, with a sensual grace, he traces the path where his teeth had left their mark, his tongue delicately caressing your neck before placing soft, lingering kisses. Your response is a sultry mewl, the audible manifestation of pleasure, and in the electric aftermath, you feel a surge of arousal saturate his dick.

Breathless and on the precipice of ecstasy, you gasp, “Yoongi, I'm—,” the words trailing off into a passionate pant as he skillfully drives into you, each thrust an artful symphony of pleasure that transcends language, leaving you teetering on the edge of bliss.

“Hmm?”

His grip on your hips tightens, and with each deeper thrust, the world around you seems to blur as you swear that, despite the physical limitations of the position, you can feel him everywhere. It's an overwhelming sensation, almost too much.

“I want to change positions,” you pant, and in an instant, Yoongi withdraws, his response swift and attentive. With a purposeful motion, he turns you around, orchestrating a seamless transition that repositions you to face him once again.

“What do you want to do?” he smiles, his gaze tender as he caresses your cheek with the gentle strokes of his long, slender fingers. In the delicate dance of his touch, you feel an overwhelming sense of love and appreciation.

“I want to ride you,” you confess, leaning in to capture his lips in a soft kiss. As you pull away, a playful smile dances across your face, your eyes reflecting a potent mix of love and lust.

“Fuck, yeah, babe,” he breathes in eager agreement, turning to lie on his back. As you discard the pillow he thoughtfully fetched for you, you proceed to shed your nightgown, leaving both of you completely bare.

With a graceful motion, you hike one leg over his body, settling into a commanding straddle. Your hand confidently takes hold of his dick, aligning it with the eager warmth of your pussy again. A smile plays on your lips as you gaze down at him, relishing the empowering intimacy of having him beneath you in this moment.

His smile mirrors the adoration and appreciation he feels as he takes in every incredible feature of yours. As you descend slowly onto his cock, your face flushes a subtle shade of red, your quivering lips betraying the intensity of your desire. Your nipples stand proudly, and your gracefully rounded belly hangs low, a testament to the life you’ve both created and soon to welcome into the world.

God he loves you. So fucking much. In his eyes, you’re a goddess.

As you lower yourself onto his dick, a duet of moans escapes both of you, the soft stretch heightening the sensory experience. The angle of this position enhances the feeling, and in the synchronized exchange of pleasure, you both revel in the palpable sensation that binds you together.

“Fuck, Yoon!” you pant, the breathless exclamation escaping your lips as you reach the apex of his pelvis, his cock filling you up completely.

“'Ah! It's so much better like this,” you moan, the words dripping with satisfaction and pleasure as you take control, beginning to ride him with a rhythmic motion.

Yoongi's hands find purchase on your hips, their firm grasp not only steadying you but becoming an integral part of the rhythmic dance as you bounce on his dick.

It's undeniably exquisite, the sensation heightened by the captivating sight of you taking control, sending Yoongi into a feral state of desire. The raw power of your dominance, setting the pace and depth, fuels an irresistible fire within him. Your expressions—those eyes closing in lust, the whimpering pleas—seemingly unravel his restraint, threatening to push him over the edge.

“You look so good, bouncing on my dick. Such a good girl,” he pants, the words imbued with a husky appreciation. His hands, slightly squeezing your hips, become a tactile affirmation, letting you know that every movement is not just good but exceptionally arousing.

You keen in response to his praise, a melodious symphony of pleasure that resonates in the air. Empowered by the encouragement, you guide yourself down deeper, every movement an exquisite dance that intensifies the feeling of being incredibly full.

“Yoongi, I don't think I'm gonna last long,” you pant, the admission hanging in the air like an electrifying confession. Sensing the imminent climax, you slow your movements, the deliberate deceleration amplifying the anticipation.

“It’s fine,” he reassures you, “I’m not going to either.”

You chuckle at him, the sound a melodic blend of pleasure and fatigue as you continue to bounce on his arousal. “I'm also so damn tired. This is challenging with my belly being this big,”

“I can take over if you want—or we can try another position?” His offer is laced with genuine concern, a desire to ensure you don't strain or tire yourself unnecessarily.

“No! I love this. I want to ride you,” you moan, the words a passionate declaration as you sink down on him once more. The anticipation of your impending orgasm begins to unfurl in the depths of your stomach.

“Yoongi—, I'm close,” you pant, the admission a breathless revelation as you continue to move at a languid pace, the enticing rhythm showcasing the delightful bounce of your tits with each motion.

He has always been captivated by the allure of your tits—a mesmerizing aspect of your physicality that leaves him in awe. A part of him remains undecided, caught in the delightful dilemma of whether he prefers your tits or your ass, a choice he'd willingly forego, harboring a fervent desire for both.

Your hands find purchase on his sculpted pectorals, seeking support as exhaustion sets in, causing your movements to slow, each languid motion bringing you closer to climax. His gaze lingers on your face, a canvas painted with the intensity of the moment—sweat glistening, mouth slightly agape, and eyebrows creased in ecstasy as you fervently ride him, lost in the rhythmic dance of pleasure.

He senses a primal twitch within as he stays deep within you, and his gaze traces a path down your neck where the evidence of his love bite remains visible. Continuing his journey, his eyes appreciate the sight of your wonderful, bouncy tits.

Withdrawing both of his hands from your hips, they now tenderly grasp both of your tits. “These are so wonderful, as is every part of you,” he murmurs in a voice laced with appreciation.

You feel the walls of your pussy contract in response to his words of praise, a cascading sensation that culminates in a soft moan, his name escaping your lips like a whispered melody.

He caresses your tits, their softness, fullness, and weight filling his palms with a tangible desire. As his hands explore, he discovers your perked nipples, rolling them between his fingers in a delicate dance of pleasure.

“Yoongi!” A high-pitched moan escapes your lips, the fervent cry echoing in the charged atmosphere as you throw your head back, surrendering to the pleasure of sinking down on him once more.

He luxuriates in the splendor of your beauty, every facet of your amazing body a source of enchantment. Everything about you accelerates the rhythm of his heart, the butterflies in his stomach multiplying with each passing moment.

He gives a gentle tug on your nipple, sending a surge of sensations through your body like an electric current, a simultaneous feeling of warmth and chill enveloping you in a paradoxical embrace.

You sense a delightful tingling sensation rippling across your entire body, a prelude to an impending climax that hovers tantalizingly on the edge.

“Shit, Yoongi, I think I'm gonna come,” you moan, the admission carrying the weight of impending ecstasy.

He grunts in response, the primal sound echoing the urgency of his own impending release. “I'm close too.”

You start to sense a delightful tightness in your breasts, with Yoongi skillfully alternating between rolling your nipples, tugging, and pinching them. The exquisite play on your sensitive peaks sends shivers down your spine. Simultaneously, you become acutely aware of the wetness between your thighs, a slippery testament to the overwhelming arousal that courses through your body.

The sound of skin on skin slapping resonates through the air, a visceral percussion that punctuates the charged atmosphere. The noise sends a jolt through your body, causing your muscles to tense in response.

The tingling and prickling sensation in your breasts intensifies, creating a crescendo of arousal that surges through your body. Then, in a sudden release, you feel the pressure in them subside, a wave of pleasure ebbing away like a tide.

Yoongi watches in awe as a gush of milk shoots out of your tits, creating a mesmerizing display that soon turns into a sensuous drip. His finger skillfully rolls your nipples, the fluid covering them and your tits in a glistening sheen of your breastmilk. Fuck it’s hot. He feels his dick twitch again, as he keeps looking at your tits.

You sense a wetness on your breasts and instinctively glance down, only to be met with a wave of horror as you realize you've begun lactating. In an instant, you cover your bobs, a mix of shock and embarrassment washing over you. The sudden shift in your body leaves you feeling vulnerable and a bit grossed out.

“I'm so sorry,” you begin, breathless words escaping your lips as you continue to fuck yourself on his dick.

“You don't have to be sorry, babe. It's natural and sexy,” he reassures you with a loving smile, a genuine attempt to dispel any insecurity. His eyes, filled with both warmth and desire, convey a message beyond words—that he not only doesn't mind but finds the situation undeniably hot.

“Please let me touch them,” he pleads with a rare vulnerability in his usually composed demeanor.

You take a moment to contemplate, acknowledging that while you might not find it as inherently sexy as he does, the arousal sparked by his desire for you is undeniably enticing. Embracing the vulnerability, you lean in and press your tits closer to his face, your tummy meeting his, as you concede with a whispered “okay.”

You release your breasts from your grasp, and like a magnet seeking its counterpart, his hands find them once more. With deliberate tenderness, he begins to massage your tts, each slow and deliberate stroke creating ripples of pleasure that resonate through your body.

As you move up and down on his length, the kaleidoscope of emotions—love, lust, and adoration—mirrored in Yoongi's eyes sends a shiver down your spine. In that charged moment, overwhelmed by the intensity of his gaze, you feel like you could die a happy woman.

His fingers resume their dance, skillfully rolling your nipples and coating them with the warm fluid of your breast milk.

With a newfound determination, you pick up the pace, fervently chasing the brink of your orgasm. Yoongi, fully immersed in the moment, continues to fondle your tits with an affectionate touch.

“Ah! Yoongi, it's so good!” you moan with a symphony of pleasure as you lower yourself onto him, and in response, he tugs a little harder on your nipples.

“Fuck,” you pant, breathless, the sensation of being so thoroughly filled with desire and pleasure overwhelming your senses.

As your stomach tightens, the internal coil finally springs free, and you unleash your slick juices on his dick. A surge of ecstasy washes over you, rendering your vision blurry, a temporary blindness overcome by the intensity of pleasure. A strange ringing noise fills your ears, and your body collapses against Yoongi's in a state of blissful surrender.

With remarkable speed, he intercepts your naked form before it collides with him, his strong and firm hands seizing your hips to anchor you on top of him.

You man fervently, the echoes of your climax still reverberating through your body. In the throes of your descent from ecstasy, a desperate plea escapes your lips, “Yoongi, please fcuk me.”

With a firm grip on your hips, he squeezes them again, initiating a rapid and relentless pace of thrusting into you. The urgency in his movements mirrors the crescendo of desire building within him as he fervently chases his own impending orgasm.

Fuck, it was hot to witness you unravel in such ecstasy. The lingering sensation of your walls pulsating around his dick lingers, as if you're tightly embracing him, and he revels in it. Being inside you, outside you, every facet of connection with you fuels a deep and insatiable love within him.

“Fuck, babe – you’re so tight!” he moans in pure delight. As you sit up, a newfound intensity in your movements, your hands find your tits, skillfully rolling your nipples, and a rivulet of breast milk drips out. Fuck. That will be his undoing.

“Ah, babe—,” he moans your name with a drawn-out, languid tone, his eyes unable to tear away from the sinful allure of your face and the captivating sight of your incredible tits.

Inexplicably, your walls continue to throb around him, coaxing an unbridled release from him. A guttural moan of your name escapes his lips, a primal declaration of the intensity of the moment, synchronized with the eruption of his warm seed, cascading into the depths of your pulsating pussy.

“Fuck!” he pants, his thrusts persisting a few times before he deftly lifts you, positioning you higher on his stomach. In the aftermath of shared ecstasy, both of you lost in the haze of pleasure, the residue of your combined orgasms coats and binds you together, a slick and intimate testament to the intensity of lust.

“Ah…” you moan, a sultry melody escaping your lips as you descend into Yoongi's embrace. Despite the undertones of desire that lace your voice, he can't help but wonder what might be amiss as he sees pain etched in your face.

“What’s wrong, babe?” he inquires, his gaze locking onto your lustful eyes as he seeks to unravel the secrets veiled behind their desire-laden depths.

“I think I’m still orgasming,” you pant, rising once more, “it’s like my body won’t stop.” A shared gaze lingers between you, uncertainty flickering in both your eyes as the lingering waves of pleasure blur the lines between ecstasy and the unknown.

“Is it good or bad though?” he probes, a furrow forming on his brow as he attempts to unravel the mystery. “It’s not bad, but my tummy feels so tight,” your hand guides his to the firmness, and indeed, it does feel tight.

“Hmmm…” he contemplates the peculiar situation, his curiosity piqued but not overly concerned. “I’ll grab some towels and clean us up. Let’s wait a moment to see if it subsides, alright?”

You nod at him, then gracefully ease down from his lap, sprawling on your side, the remnants of passion and desire lingering in the air as you continue to pant for the sweet breath of satisfaction.

Yoongi gracefully rises from the bed, navigating the darkness of the night with an innate sense of purpose. He effortlessly locates your bathroom, skillfully secures a handful of towels, and returns to your bedroom with a quiet assurance, the dim shadows highlighting his silhouette as he prepares to tend to your shared aftermath.

“Here—, I–” With a sudden urgency, he tosses the towels aside as his eyes widen at the sight of you. Your figure is curled in on itself, hands instinctively cradling your stomach, every muscle in your body taut and tense.

“Yoongi, I think I’m in labor,” you declare, the gravity of the moment reflected not just in your words but also in the silent agony etched across your face, a shared understanding mirrored in the intensity of his gaze.

And then it hits him like a tidal wave; the tightness in your tummy was contractions. A surge of realization floods over him—shit, it’s happening. You're having your baby. In the whirlwind of emotions, he battles to remain calm, to steady himself for the pivotal moments ahead.

“Okay. Let's time the contractions and then call the hospital, okay?” he says, a sense of urgency in his voice, frantically searching for his phone on the nightstand.

“Let me know the moment you sense the beginning of a contraction,” he instructs, poised to start the timer.

“Right now,” you gasp, clutching your stomach tightly. The sensation grips you, an intense pressure, especially at the apex, and then, moments later, it releases. “It’s gone now.”

“Almost a minute,” he observes, his tone laden with the realization that you're edging closer to the throes of labor.

“Describe them to me. Are they intense? The pain worries me, seeing you in discomfort tears me apart,” he inquires, genuine concern etched across his face as he tries to understand what you're going through.

“Just a hint of pain, nothing unbearable. I can handle it,” you reassure with a soft chuckle, a resilient spirit shining through despite the discomfort, and he finds solace in your strength.

“Let's keep an eye on the contractions for about an hour, and then we'll give the hospital a call,” he suggests, retrieving the towels scattered on the floor earlier with a sense of urgency.

“While we wait, let me take care of you,” he proposes, coming closer with a towel. Gently lifting one of your legs, he begins to clean you, erasing the traces of our orgasms.

Your body quivers in response to his tender touch, eliciting delicate moans that dance in the air.

“Fuck. I don’t know why, but it’s turning me on, Yoon.” You moan softly, unable to explain the unexpected arousal, but your body instinctively grinds against the towel, turning a simple act into a sensual dance of lust.

A playful chuckle escapes him as he tends to your aftermath, skillfully cleaning you up. Satisfied with the tender care he has given you, he proceeds to clean himself up. Together, you reclaim your clothing, sitting down in your bed anxiously waiting for your contractions to pick up.

As the cadence of contractions quickens, Yoongi takes decisive action, reaching out to the hospital to announce the fact that you’re in labor. With a voice poised between urgency and excitement, he navigates the conversation, detailing the progression of your contractions over the past hour. He wants to know how you should proceed.

As anticipation swirls in the air like a palpable force, Yoongi's voice resonates with a newfound sense of joy. “They've given us the green light to drive to the hospital,” he announces, his eyes reflecting the shared excitement. As you both perch on the edge of the bed, he turns to you with a practical inquiry, “Where did you stash your hospital bag?”

Your gesture guides him to the dresser, and with a graceful sweep, Yoongi retrieves your carefully prepared hospital bag. His voice, a comforting melody, invites you to join him, “Come, we can go now.”

Guiding you with a gentle hand, Yoongi accompanies you to the entryway of your home, a silent pact of shared determination. The darkness outside, coupled with the December chill, calls for the practicality of boots and a warm coat.

Assertively reaching for Yoongi's car keys, you declare, “I can drive.” The shift in Yoongi's expression is so abrupt, it's as if you've caught a fleeting glimpse of a storm cloud on a clear day, the sour twist on his face a testament to the unexpectedness of your statement.

His voice takes on a stern edge, swiftly denying your attempt to take the wheel. Yoongi snatches the keys from your grasp, his firm tone leaving no room for negotiation. “It’s not safe for you to drive in the midst of contractions,” he insists, a protective glint in his eyes amplifying the weight of his concern.

“But it’s not that bad,” you argue, why, you don’t really know.

“Look, babe. I know you can do everything by yourself, you’re strong, and I love you for it. But you’re not driving the car,” he says with a tone that brooks no argument, a gentle firmness underlining his love and concern for your well-being.

As you both prepare and the keys find their place in Yoongi's firm grip, you swing the door wide open, only to be greeted by a blanket of white—the snow-draped landscape stretching across the grass, road, and your car. To top it off, gentle snowflakes dance down from the heavens. Fuck.

“Ugh, it’s going to take forever driving into the city in this weather,” you grumble, trudging your way towards the car through the dense, snow-laden path. The flakes fall thick and heavy, making it difficult to see ahead.

Yoongi grumbles under his breath, popping the trunk to stow away your bag. With meticulous care, he ensures you've got everything essential for the journey. Satisfied, you both slide into the car, ready to face the challenges the snowy night has in store.

“It's going to be alright, babe,” he reassures you, his hand gently covering yours before tenderly moving to your belly. “Can't wait to finally meet you.”

Yoongi is accustomed to navigating challenging weather conditions on the road, his driving skills unaffected by the snow. However, the incompetence of other drivers in snowy conditions infuriates him. Inside the cocoon of your car, he vents his frustration, unleashing a symphony of curses directed at everyone causing chaos on the wintry roads.

“Ease up on the road rage, Yoongi. I don't want our little one picking up a vocabulary lesson in expletives before they even arrive,” you chime in, settling deeper into the seat, your concern for the baby evident in your voice.

“Babe, seriously, who ventures out on the road without a clue about driving in the snow? And it's the crack of dawn—why is everyone suddenly on a snow-day adventure?” Yoongi grumbles in exasperation, his frustration bringing a smile to your face despite the situation.

“Have you forgotten it’s Christmas time?” you quip, chuckling as he gapes at you, realization dawning on him. Damn, he had indeed forgotten.

“We haven’t even reached the city yet and there’s already so many cars,” he complains some more, and you let him. His voice, a melody that always soothes, even in the midst of chaotic Christmas traffic.

“They’re going home to their families—, watch out!” you point at the car in front of you, its headlights blazing like a comet in the snowy morning, almost blinding in their intensity.

Yoongi's keen eyes caught sight of the car in the opposite lane, and it became painfully evident that the driver couldn't navigate the snowy roads to save their life. Inexplicably, this inept driver seemed to believe they owned the road, arrogantly straddling both lanes. Distinguishing one lane from another was challenging in the snowy chaos, but it wasn't rocket science either.

Yoongi skillfully swerves the car to the side, narrowly avoiding a collision with the vehicle in front. The abrupt move sends a rumble through the car as it navigates the bumpy terrain, plowing through a massive mound of snow hastily shoved to the side.

The car grinds to a halt, Yoongi unleashing a string of colorful curses directed at the absent driver. Now, you find yourselves stranded in the unforgiving grip of the snow.

His concerned gaze shifts to you, seeking reassurance. “Are you okay, babe?” he asks, and although you appear unharmed, your response carries the weight of the unexpected. “Yeah, I'm okay. Just a bit shaken.”

As he hums a soothing melody, his attempts to reassure you echo in the confined space, yet beneath the surface, he senses the gradual erosion of his own calm demeanor.

“That fucking jerk,” his frustration intensifies as he hisses about the reckless driver, but you, amidst the escalating contractions, offer soothing reassurance, masking the growing urgency within the car.

“I'll assess the damage outside, okay?” he proposes, seeking your consent. You nod, delving into your bag for a snack, a sudden wave of hunger overtaking you amid the unfolding situation.

Yoongi steps out into the freezing cold, the car's engine humming in the background. He surveys the vehicle, searching for any visible damage, but to his relief, nothing appears broken or in need of immediate repair.

The towering mound of snow engulfs the car, rendering the hood invisible. Yoongi, realizing the severity of the situation, understands that extricating the vehicle from this icy trap is no easy feat. The sheer depth of the snow suggests a challenging predicament, one that requires assistance. Knowing you're in no condition to lend a hand, he contemplates the help he'll need to navigate the car out of this wintry predicament.

He reenters the car, discovering you engrossed in a candy bar, and a hearty chuckle escapes his lips.

Between bites, you inquire, “I was hungry. How's the car?”

“It's stuck pretty bad in the snow pile. Can't get it out myself,” he begins, but you interrupt with a smile, “I can help you with that.”

“Have you forgotten that you're in labor?” he laughs, his voice raspy from the cold outside. “And you're not going out to shovel snow. We don't even have shovels,” he adds, sharing a hearty laugh with you.

“I thought you had all kinds of things in the car,” you chuckle, finishing your candy bar with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

“Yeah, but not shovels,” his laughter resonates in the car, a contagious sound that brings a smile to your face.

“What are we gonna do then, just wait?” you inquire, a hint of worry coloring your voice as the realization dawns that you might not make it to the hospital in time.

“I’ll call Jimin and ask him to come help,” he declares, urgency in his tone as he swiftly pulls out his phone, dialing Jimin’s number with determination.

Even in the early morning hush, Jimin's phone vibrates, and he glances at the caller ID to find Yoongi's name flashing. It's an unusual call at this hour, sparking an immediate concern that propels him to answer without hesitation.

“Hey, Yoongi hyung, something wrong?” His voice, tinged with worry and genuine concern, breaks the silence of the room as he answers the call. He rises from the bed, instantly alert to the unusual urgency in Yoongi's early morning summons.

“We had a car accident,” Yoongi's words hang heavy in the air, shattering the tranquility of the room. Jimin's reaction is immediate, a storm of worry and disbelief brewing within him. He erupts from the bed, shouting into the phone, “What??” The sheer concern in his voice mirrors the gravity of the situation.

Yoongi's reassurance echoes through the phone, a soothing balm to his frayed nerves. “It's minor, relax,” he utters, and the calmness in his voice acts as a lifeline, pulling him back from the edge of panic.

“A guy forced us off the road, and we ended up plowing into a massive snowbank. Now, the damn car's wedged in tight,” Yoongi recounts, frustration coloring his words. Jimin, attentive, absorbs the details. “Think you can come lend a hand? Bring some shovels. I'll shoot you our coordinates,” Yoongi requests, the urgency evident in his tone.

Jimin readily agrees to help, his concern palpable through the phone. However, he can't shake the worry as he inquires, “Are you guys okay? And ___? How's the baby?”

“Yeah, we're all fine,” Yoongi reassures, his voice a bit raspy. Jimin strains to catch some muffled sounds on the other end, unable to discern the details.

He glances at the dropped location on his phone, “I can be there in about 30 minutes,” he assures Yoongi, swiftly rising from his bed to grab some warm clothes.

“Thank you, Jimin.”

As the promised 30 minutes Jimin assured you passed an hour ago, he couldn't help but wonder if you were growing impatient with the prolonged wait.

Jimin spots your car on the roadside, its hazard lights casting an eerie glow, and he expertly maneuvers his own vehicle to a stop right behind yours.

He steps out, ready to retrieve tools from the trunk, but his attention is abruptly stolen by piercing screams emanating from your car. His muscles tense, and without a second thought, he dashes towards the source of the cries.

Why are you screaming? What's going on, and why are the windows so foggy?

With an overpowering urgency, he wrenches open the left door to the backseats, sending it flinging wide, the metallic screech echoing the urgency pulsing through his veins.

He hadn't anticipated the shocking scene that unfolded before him; there you were, legs pressed against the headrest on both the front and back seats, completely exposed from the waist down. He can clearly see your vagina. Fuck, your vagina is big—wait, something is coming out of it!

Yoongi catches Jimin unabashedly staring at your vagina, prompting an eye roll from him. What's with Jimin? Having already witnessed your tits and now your vagina, it annoys Yoongi to no end. He's possessive; the idea of others seeing you in such a vulnerable state doesn't sit well with him. Sharing is not his forte.

He hisses sharply, capturing Jimin's attention, all while the symphony of your agonized screams continues to pierce the air.

“Stop looking at her vagina, man! You’ve seen enough of her, Jimin,” Yoongi snaps, frustration dripping from his words as your writhing form remains nestled against his supporting frame.

Jimin's eyes widen in disbelief, his mouth agape at the unexpected scene. He quickly redirects his gaze to Yoongi, his expression a mix of shock and apology as he stammers, “I—I didn't mean to, Yoongi, I'm so sorry!”

You clutch your thighs tightly, a guttural scream escaping your lips as the contraction envelops you. Once it recedes, you direct an exasperated shout at Jimin, “Close the damn door! You’re letting all the cold air in.”

Jimin snaps out of his daze, berating himself for standing there like a fool. Swiftly, he slips into the driver's seat, positioning himself to face the backseats with a determined look on his face.

“How long has she been in labor?” Jimin queries Yoongi, who glances up from your panting form for a moment before responding, “A few hours, actually.”

“You could have mentioned that when you called!” Jimin hisses in frustration. Not that the information would have made a big difference, given that the snow was the primary cause of his tardiness.

“But that’s a long time. I can see the head coming out,” he informs, prompting both you and Yoongi to exchange amused eye rolls.

“Yeah, she's crowning,” Yoongi adds with a soft stroke to your cheeks, his touch a comforting anchor as you brace yourself for another contraction.

“What can I do to help? I don't think we can get the car ready in time to make it to the hospital,” Jimin inquires, his gaze shifting between you and Yoongi with a mix of concern and determination.

“I already realized I’m having this baby in the backseat of a fucking car. Serves me right — getting fucked in a car, giving birth in a car. I’ve come full circle!” you laugh hysterically between contractions, the situation not lost on you. Jimin shifts uncomfortably in the driver's seat, but Yoongi remains a steady rock, his presence grounding you amidst the chaos.

As Yoongi directs his attention to Jimin, he suggests, “Maybe you could call the hospital and check if they can send an ambulance our way, just in case. I haven't had a moment to make that call yet.” His fingers trace soothing circles on your thighs, a stark contrast to the urgency of your sudden need to push.

Jimin's face reflects genuine concern as he admits he's never witnessed someone in labor before, only having gleaned insights from movies. However, a memory surfaces—advice from Seokjin after his girlfriend gave birth. “You can try changing positions, something where gravity can aid the baby's descent,” he shares, a eureka moment breaking through the tension.

Following Jimin's suggestion, you and Yoongi exchange a glance filled with gratitude and amazement. Acting on the advice, you shift positions, moving to sit over the seats with your upper body draped across them, your face turned towards the back. The atmosphere is tense, yet the three of you share a determined resolve in the face of the unexpected delivery.

With Yoongi's steady support, you manage to assume a half-standing, half-seated position, your body poised for the imminent arrival of your baby. Meanwhile, the car fills with the sound of Jimin's urgent voice as he communicates with the hospital over the phone.

“They are sending an ambulance now,” he informs.

Gratitude colors Yoongi's urgent request, a plea wrapped in the intensity of the moment. “Thank you, Jimin. Could you come back here and lend a hand?” he implores, a mix of worry and determination in his voice, as you cling to the rhythm of your breaths, navigating the storm of contractions.

He teases with a nonchalant shrug, “I thought you didn't want me looking.” Yet, it's clear he's here to assist you; after all, you're his ride or die, and in this crucial moment, his quip holds a trace of underlying devotion and readiness to stand by your side.

In a playful retort, he asserts, “Bold of you to assume I wanted you to look at her vagina again. There are other ways to assist, you know. I'll keep vagina watch—she's my wife,” emphasizing the relationship he shares with you, as Jimin exits the car to join you in the backseat.

Your tired yet grateful gaze meets Jimin's as you acknowledge, “You were right, Jimin. This position is a game-changer. The pressure has eased up a bit.” Despite the sweat-soaked exhaustion etched on your face, a soft smile conveys your appreciation.

For a second, Jimin doesn’t know what to do – can he touch you? Where? How can he help?

“Fuck it hurts!” Agony courses through you, each breath a struggle as you arch your back, a desperate attempt to wrestle against the relentless ache.

As the waves of pain intensify, he instinctively rests his hand on the small of your back, gently tracing soothing circles. To his relief, he witnesses the tension in your body slowly surrender to the rhythmic comfort of his touch.

Summoning all his composure, Yoongi bravely steals a glance downward, discovering a tuft of hair signaling the imminent arrival. Damn. He knows he must remain composed, steady—for you.

“How did you go into labor anyway? How did the water break, was it like in the movies?” Jimin launches into a barrage of questions, his curiosity pouring out like an unbridled stream. You shoot a glare his way, practically hurling invisible daggers in his direction at the audacity of his inquiries.

His hands continue their soothing circles on your lower back as he asks, “What?” Yoongi resurfaces, his expression a blank canvas.

And suddenly, realization flashes across Jimin's face. “You totally fucked! And then she went into labor!” he exclaims, a mix of shock and amusement in his voice.

You hiss in pain, your fingers clenching the seat with a vice-like grip, the intensity of the moment etched in the white-knuckle grasp of your hands.

Both your expressions affirm Jimin's earlier assumption, a silent confirmation that lingers in the charged air of the confined space.

“Shit, I can’t do this,” you gasp, exhaustion etched across your face, your body seemingly on the brink of surrender.

“You're almost there, babe. It's safe to keep pushing,” Yoongi reassures you with a tender kiss on your cheek, but you push him away, a fiery glare in your gaze.

“This is all your fault. You and your damn big dick!” you scream at him, and he understands, recognizing it as your pain talking and not the real you. Jimin chuckles from beside you, and you turn to give him a death glare, saying, “Don’t act so innocent, Mr. ‘I think Yoongi likes you.’”

“But I was right. And now you're about to have his baby. It's going to be okay,” Jimin reassures you, his hand gently rubbing your back.

“Just relax,” Jimin adds.

“Easy for you to say; a baby isn't shooting out of your body,” you huff, the intensity of your anger subsiding.

“I know it hurts, babe. But focus on your breathing, and when you're ready, push with all you've got,” Yoongi encourages, leaning in to kiss you on the lips.

The kiss sends electric shivers down your spine, and strangely, it acts as a calming balm, making the pain feel somewhat more bearable.

When he pulls away, he notices the lingering frown on your face, and a sense of curiosity washes over him. “It was nice, Yoongi. I think it helps alleviate the pain,” you admit, your voice a mixture of exhaustion and appreciation.

“Kiss me again,” you pant, your desperation echoing in the quiet space of the car. Yoongi obliges, capturing your lips with a hunger that elicits a moan from deep within you. In that stolen moment, the world fades away, forgotten in the intoxicating blend of passion and the rhythmic circles Jimin traces on your back.

“Don’t mind me. But I think the baby is coming, I can see more of its head just from here,” he informs, his eyes wide with a mix of awe and amusement. Yoongi's gaze follows Jimin's, confirming the imminent arrival.

He positions his hands underneath your core, preparing to catch your baby as soon as it emerges. Yet, your screams of pain prompt a plea, “Please distract me with kisses,” you cry out, your hands clenching around the seats in a desperate search for relief.

Yoongi glances up at you, your pain evident, and the desperate desire for relief palpable in your eyes. However, he's torn between wanting to provide comfort and being there to catch and deliver your baby. A moment of realization dawns upon him – he can't be in two places at once, something Jimin seems to realize too.

Yoongi gazes at Jimin, a silent plea for guidance evident in his eyes, but Jimin, with a mischievous grin, utters, “You've got two choices, hyung – catch the baby or let me kiss your wife. What's it gonna be?”

Yoongi gapes at him, astounded by the audacity Jimin displays in even suggesting such a choice. He's acutely aware of his own possessiveness, and Jimin knows how much he fucking wants to deliver his own child. He’s caught between a rock and a hard place.

With a sense of urgency, you turn your head and implore, “Do something! I don't care who kisses me, just someone, please!” Your plea echoes with a mixture of sternness and desperation, the pain coursing through your entire body amplifying the need for any distraction.

Yoongi moves with unwavering determination, ascending once more. “Fine. Deliver the baby. You're going to be the godfather anyway,” he grumbles to Jimin, reaching your head and pressing his lips plush against yours. Instantly, you relax, a moan escaping in the midst of the chaos.

“I am?” Jimin questions, uncertainty lacing his voice. Yet, he positions his hands beneath your vagina, mirroring Yoongi's earlier gesture.

You eagerly press your lips to Yoongi's, seeking out his tongue in a passionate exchange, panting and moaning in response to the surge of arousal coursing through you. Amid the heated kiss, you offer affirmative murmurs to Jimin, your desires spoken through the intensity of the embrace with Yoongi.

“It's working, the baby is coming out,” Jimin exclaims with a mix of excitement and focus, his hands securing the baby's head with delicate precision to ensure a safe descent into the world.

Yoongi abandons your mouth, tracing a fiery path down to your neck, his lips leaving a trail of searing kisses and tantalizing bites. Your response is an involuntary groan, a symphony of pleasure escaping your lips, as you gasp out, “Fuuuck, Yoongi.”

“The head is completely out now!” Jimin’s voice breaks through the intense moment and in response, you instinctively grab Yoongi’s head, pulling him back up into a passionate kiss.

As your lips entwine in an ardently sensual dance, the symphony of pleasure resonates, eliciting increasingly fervent moans from you.

Breaking away, you gasp, “Fuck. Why does it feel like I’m coming?” Your breath comes in pants, and you sense a relieving tightness escaping your body.

Jimin swiftly takes charge, catching the remainder of your baby as it emerges, and Yoongi lends his support, ensuring Jimin's hands remain steady in the crucial moment.

The infant rests gently between your thighs in the hands of both Yoongi and Jimin, and as you gasp for air, you steal a glance downward. There, your precious baby lies, serene and silent. A moment of quietude settles in, and a disquieting realization begins to dawn upon you—silence, in this context, isn't the reassuring sound you anticipated.

Dread courses through you as you breathe heavily, realizing the absence of that expected newborn cry. Without hesitation, you extend your trembling arms, pulling your baby up against your chest in a desperate embrace.

An air of tension hangs heavy, mirrored in the anxious expressions on Jimin and Yoongi's faces, both men holding their breath, awaiting the sound that should signify life's beginning.

In an instinctual surge of emotion, you tear your shirt to shreds with one hand, cradling your newborn against your bare chest. Shock registers on both Jimin and Yoongi's faces as they witness this raw display of maternal instinct, captivated by the power and determination radiating from you.

As you gently rub the baby's back, waves of sadness wash over you, and tears stream down your face. In a choked voice, you express your fear, “This is why I should have delivered in the hospital. What if something happened to the baby and it's...gone?” The last part of the sentence catches in your throat, too emotional to articulate fully.

In the confined space of the car, you twist around, pressing your back against the seat as tears cascade down your cheeks. The anguish in your body is palpable, each sob causing a tremor that echoes the pain you're enduring.

In an instant, a second cry intertwines with yours, and you lower your gaze to behold your baby, tiny and fragile, yet alive. A surge of relief floods through every fiber of your being, mirrored in the eyes of the two men who exchange a profound, knowing glance.

Clutching your newborn close, you haven't even taken a moment to check the gender, but in this raw and tender moment, it hardly matters. All that echoes through your soul is the reassurance that everything is alright.

Overflowing with gratitude, your voice carries a symphony of love as your eyes dance between your husband and Jimin. “Thank you, both of you” you whisper, your heart swelling with the depth of the moment.

Yoongi whispers, his voice a tender melody, “You did incredible, babe,” as he leans in to press a gentle kiss against your cheek, his words echoing with admiration for your strength and resilience.

“No problem at all. You were amazing, ___,” Jimin commends, leaning back into the seat beside you, his hands stained with blood, that he wipes off on his pants.

“Jimin, could you check the trunk for some thermal blankets?” Yoongi requests, his gaze tenderly fixed on your baby, who has quieted down and now rests peacefully against your boobs—what he believes to be the most comforting place.

Jimin returns with a bundle of blankets, and Yoongi, with a sense of urgency, joins him in carefully wrapping you and the baby. The blankets cocoon you both, shielding you from the biting cold as you patiently await the arrival of the ambulance.

“Should we find anything to cut the cord with?” In a sudden burst of practicality, Jimin scans the car, his eyes searching for anything suitable to cut the cord.

“No, no. I've read that the baby can stay attached for hours and even days. So I'm fine waiting to do it in the hospital,” you say, your voice carrying a mixture of fatigue and overwhelming love. Your eyes remain fixed on your baby, and you don't glance at Jimin as you express your decision.

Then, a sensation grips your attention, warmth and thickness enveloping you between your legs. As you cast your gaze downward, the revelation dawns upon you – it's the placenta.

“You guys might need a new car,” Jimin breaks into laughter and Yoongi looks at him perplexed, before he scans the state of the car; it’s filled with blood, anatomic fluid and God knows what else. He reckons you’ll have to burn it, if it can’t be cleaned.

Half an hour post-delivery, the ambulance team arrives like guardian angels, swooping in to cradle you in their capable hands as they whisk you away to the sanctuary of the hospital.

Jimin swiftly summons roadside assistance, ensuring a caretaker for your stranded car, while he maneuvers his own vehicle through the snowy streets to the hospital.

Nestled in the hospital room, you're navigating the nuances of new motherhood. The compassionate nurses guide you through the art of breastfeeding, and you're determined to master this intimate dance with your newborn.

Beside you, Yoongi shares in the enchantment, both of you reveling in the miracle of your beautiful baby girl, awestruck at the realization that you've crafted this extraordinary little being together.

Gazing into his eyes, a kaleidoscope of love, affection, and adoration, he whispers, “I love you, babe,” before tenderly leaning in for a heartfelt kiss.

“I love you too, Yoongi.”

Jimin sweeps into the room, a harbinger of warmth and color, bearing a bouquet of your favorite purple flowers. Your heart flutters as you press a grateful kiss to his cheek, expressing your thanks.

Deep gratitude colors Yoongi's voice as he wraps Jimin in a tight embrace. “Seriously, Jimin, thank you for everything,” he murmurs, sincerity etched in his words. Jimin, with a warm smile, responds, “It's no problem. You're welcome.”

Clutching Jimin's hand, you squeeze it tightly, your eyes reflecting sincere appreciation. “No, thank you. I would never have made it without you,” you express, the gravity of your words resonating in the room.

You express your heartfelt appreciation, looking directly at Jimin as you speak. “You are my best, best friend, Jimin. I love you and thank you,” your words carrying the weight of genuine gratitude. Jimin meets your gaze with tenderness, carefully keeping his eyes on your face, mindful of not stepping on any toes with Yoongi, not that there's anything he should be worried about.

“She’s really cute—the baby, I mean,” Jimin throws his hands up in mock defense, unable to contain his admiration. His genuine enthusiasm shines through as he revels in the adorable sight of your newborn.

Yoongi begins with a playful smirk, “Relax, Jimin. You're allowed to call my wife cute and pretty, and occasionally sneak a glance at her assets if the situation calls for it; like a birth or a bra mishap—but nothing more.” He chuckles, wrapping up his words with a friendly hug, leaving Jimin with a mix of relief and amusement.

Jimin's laughter resonates in response, and just as the sound fills the room, the door swings open, ushering in the rest of your friends.

They flood the room with warm greetings, and your eyes quickly catch Jungkook, who enters with a whimsical unicorn plushie and a vibrant bouquet in shades of purple, pink, and blue.

“These are for you,” he beams, thrusting the bouquet towards Yoongi, who delicately places them on the table beside you.

“Congratulations,” the boys chime in unison, closing in to catch a glimpse of your precious little one.

You shift your baby in your arms, delicately adjusting your gown to reveal the other breast for feeding. With each nourishing moment, you sense post-contractions coursing through your body, a gentle reminder of your uterus gradually returning to its normal size.

Jungkook, Taehyung, and Namjoon inadvertently direct their gaze toward your breasts, drawing Yoongi’s attention. However, Seokjin interjects sternly, “Enough, guys. Show some respect. Quit staring at her breasts while she's feeding. You've seen other breasts before; let's not be rude.”

Jimin lets out a chuckle from his position beside you on the bed, quietly noting that the others should consider themselves lucky that Yoongi didn't snap at them for sneaking glances at your breasts.

“Starting today, a strict no-gazing policy is in effect for anyone trying to sneak a peek at my wife's breasts or her vagina,” Yoongi declares, shooting a pointed yet appreciative smile in Jimin's direction.

Confusion flickers across the faces of all the guys as their gazes shift between Jimin, Yoongi, and then you, signaling that something intriguing might have unfolded.

As their jaws drop in surprise, you casually spill the details, “He played a crucial role in delivering the baby and got an unexpected front-row view of my vagina in the process.”

Yoongi clenches his jaw, his gaze piercing through the room as he asserts, “Yes, that happened. Eyes off—especially you two,” he warns, shooting a stern look at Jungkook and Taehyung, who quickly avert their eyes.

Jungkook hesitantly clears his throat, his curiosity overcoming his apprehension, “___, what's that on your neck?”

A rosy hue tints your cheeks as you recall the passionate love bite that Yoongi left on your neck just before the chaotic journey into labor began, and you find yourself cursing your husband under your breath for the intimate moment that now decorates your skin.

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