#also i am so obsessed with the mine attack

[thecattening]

Welp, forgot to post my attacks for literally the rest of artfight, but here they are now!! Good job gang!! Had a ton of fun this year and got some epic defenses Jasper - @hyper-katt Nayomi - @lampthemoth Thimble - Kind of mine? but also @pogo505 Angus - @1dkreally Spian Bang- @world-of-evil Olive - starpossum Ink - KhaosInkarnate Elsi - @snazzi-strawberri-artz MINE - @snoozingdragon

[hoseoksluna]

MURK | myg ft. jjk

pairing: boyfriend!yoongi x oc (feat. jungkook)

genre: angst, smut

word count: 16.9k

summary: one encounter with jungkook heals you enough to mend your boyfriend's heart.

pinterest board: murk

warnings: anxiety attack, different forms of self-harm and self-sabotage, mental agony, mutual masturbation, toying with polyamory, foreshadowing the use of a sex toy, alcohol consumption, seduction, provocation, teasing, oc wears pretty lingerie, cuckold kink, guided female masturbation, dom/sub dynamics, nipple play, clit rubbing, ass play, oral sex (m. receiving), fingering, facial, cum eating

note: oh my god, this was supposed to have three parts, but it was getting way too long and i decided to prolong the series. i'm not gonna even mention how many parts this series is gonna have bc my characters surprise me every time i finish writing so... they're the boss of me. ANYWAYS, pls i am so proud of this work of mine and i can't wait for you all to read it. pls, spam my inbox anonymously! i need to hear your thoughts, so pretty please, let me know everything you're feeling, hating, expecting etc. i'm absolutely obsessed with oc, jk and yoongi. ALSO, let me know what team you are. team yoongi or team jk? i'll put a poll in the final part if i remember. hehe ENJOY READING ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

Sensing Yoongi’s emotions, the clouds pull in, shunning the sunlight and you feel it. You feel it, enormously. 

The wind becomes violent. Curtains of sheer gray slap against the windows, undulating with such might that you sense its urgency. You stare at it in deep thought, naked and barren—void of any dignity, void of any rightness of feelings. A hole of blackness takes form in the middle of your chest, where the memory of Yoongi exiting the room hastily plays on a loop and there’s a faint, feeble hand in you, one of that urgency, that reaches for him, while the other remains slack at your side, caressing your own skin, pacifying your selfishness, your hypnosis—dragging you away from the side you had unwittingly and so unrightfully chosen. 

And while you want to mend what you’ve caused in your relationship, the only side you want to take at the moment is your own. The defeat pains you still, but what aches even more is the feeble wish there wasn’t any defeat at all. Not on Yoongi’s face, not on yours. 

You don’t regret what you’ve done. You don’t want to regret anything anymore, which is why you’re still standing dressed in your femininity as Jungkook apprehensively rakes his hands through his hair on the bed. You care very little for it because a bigger part of you is concerned about the well-being of your boyfriend. You wonder what he’s up to downstairs. Is he pacing? Is he busying himself from the onrush of his negative emotions, not able to stand the sight of you? You’d run to him, but there’s a bigger matter at hand. You have to fix your mind first. You have to cleanse yourself of the mess and the chaos, sort out the darkness so the light pours in. 

The light that will guide you to make the right decisions at last. The light that will burst your ugliness to smithereens, smother you with its heat so the hypnosis won’t penetrate it again. The light that should, ultimately, help Yoongi, help your relationship—fix its face, soothe out the overbearing tension. 

You’re aware Jungkook put you under a spell, now that the wind and Yoongi’s coldness has sobered you up. Turned you against him. Made you forget about him. You give zero fucks about how he does it time and time again. What you will concentrate on in the present time is making sure it won’t happen again. How? You’ll figure it out. Somehow. 

You don’t want any of the males to regard you as of now—and you wish you were alone, you wish you could escape like Yoongi did. That thought leads you, conspicuously, to begin to understand the reason behind his actions, but you don’t allow it to unfold in you. Not yet. You turn around to look at Jungkook. 

Elbows propped on his thighs, he’s digging a hole into the hardwood floors with the blackness of his irises. A small mole kisses the side of his ribs, the only visible part of his body that is otherwise clouded in shadows. You take your eyes away from that sight, not trusting yourself, hating yourself for naturally looking at that intimate part of him. Upon the sound of your movement, Jungkook flicks his eyes towards your form. You dislike everything about his attentiveness to you with every fiber of the betrayal that your body has become. 

His face is squished in his hands. He doesn’t look at your bareness. Merely studies the emotions written on your face. Like the healer he is, you know he wants to find something, anything to latch himself onto. And while you once obsessed over this need of his to mend, to make right, you despise it now. In spite of it, while you swallow down your distaste for it, your hand yearns to pet him like the wounded puppy he is, because you know that the tumultuous darkness both men are facing is of your origin, of your doing.

You keep it clenched in a tight fist. 

You don’t want to touch him anymore. You don’t want to touch any of them. Don’t want to cause any more harm than you already have with your desires. 

Jungkook startles when you make your way towards your travel bag. You hide your breasts beneath your forearm, not wished to be seen, not wishing to be vulnerable like that. The feeling of your stickiness along the inner sides of your thighs makes you cringe, worsens your hatred, and tears begin to sting in your waterline when you unzip your bag and grab the first thing you see. Jungkook opens his mouth to say something, but for the last time you avert your gaze from him and bolt to his bathroom. At the sound of his heavy steps, you slam the door shut. 

He calls your name and it is only then, when you’re alone, that you let those bitter tears and whimpers emit out of you. The sound is hidden by each strike of his palm upon the wood and your hand flies to your mouth in effort to stifle your emotions, feeling undeserving of them, feeling wrong, ugly, not worthy of his damned attention—not worthy of anything. 

“Sweetheart,” Jungkook whines. The first pet name he ever called you. You let out a pained sound and he forces the door open with all his might. Even though you don’t want to, you let him see the state of you—clutching your wrinkled dress and panties, concealing the evidence of the pleasure he gave to your body, of your femininity that he had put under his spell. 

You step away from the threshold, slinking deeper into the shadows of the bathroom. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be looking at you with such solicitude and affection. His brows shouldn’t be knitted like that, those eyes bigger and rounded than they usually are, fists tight and clenched, veins thumping and thick. Yoongi should be standing in his place with the intention to heal. Not him. 

“Please, go away,” you whisper, hot tears pouring down your pallid cheeks. You’re ashamed of them because you know full well that at this point you should be doing anything but crying. You’ve gone through so much turmoil, mingled with the darkness to such great extent that you should be proud of your work. You wanted this at some point—you wanted to remain the opposite force with separate feelings. You wanted to be his, when you had no right to choose. 

Jungkook’s eyes glisten. You turn your back to him, unable to be a witness to his emotions. You can’t see that; you don’t deserve to and he shouldn’t be feeling like this. He should’ve long exited this disorder—

You sob louder, exhausted of your thoughts, exhausted of shoulds, of wrongness. Turn the shower on, aware of the traces of disobedience and pain on your backside and you want to hide, but you have nowhere to go to. 

Jungkook turns the main lights off, leaving only the soft flickering bulbs on by the mirror. Ever the healer who senses your emotions by some sixth sense that you hate. Dimness covers your shame. 

He takes away your dress and panties and you let him. Folds them neatly on his laundry hamper. You watch him treat your underwear with such gentleness that it hurts. A flashback of him ripping your thong and making your bum red fills your brain, causing your feelings to expand in your chest—so much that you think your body is too small to keep them in. You can’t breathe, your lungs don’t have enough space to stretch and you panic, taking small breaths that don’t appease your need for air. Not at all. 

You step into the shower, needing to get away. 

The hot water burns on the curves of your behind and you hiss, but it alleviates your hatred. You deem it is precisely what you deserve. Your hand turns the temperature higher, sobbing into the stream of water, lungs heaving with such heft and it is okay, for it camouflages your hypocrisy. That is, until Jungkook notices it. 

“Are you crazy?” he mutters in dismay, fixing the temperature, but you grip his wrist briefly, pushing it away. Don’t look at him. Only warn him this way, silently. His miffed sigh wafts into the mist rising along your form, diffusing into your hair that still carries the scent of the pond. You want to wash it all out. “It’s going to hurt more like this.” 

You scowl, cupping the water in your hands like a child. “I don’t care. Leave.” 

The outward pain of your body isn’t the problem here. It aggravates you how he doesn’t see it—how he can be so ignorant to the more important matter at hand. Yoongi left because of him and because of you, because of the single-minded pleasure between you both that had nothing to do with Yoongi. You might as well have been there alone with him—Yoongi being just a pair of helping hands. Redundant. 

Burning. Burning of eyes, burning of skin, burning ache of heart. 

Jungkook scoffs at your forwardness, dumbfounded. Has the audacity to follow the drop of water trickling down the small of your back. You splash him, willing him to go away, but he stays put. Unbuttons his cargos. Hooks his thumbs under the waistband of his boxers, ridding himself, and stepping into the shower with you, sliding the door shut. 

You whisk your eyes to him with as much ill-will as you’re able to muster and he seizes it, unafraid of it, backing you against the wall. Solemn mien, subdued and so soft amidst the hardness of his decisiveness. Small pearls of emotion are stained upon the wrinkles around the corners of his eyes, twinkling in the shadows in tandem with the ever persisting glint perched on top of his irises. “I told you to leave.” 

He doesn’t blink. “You splashed me,” he utters, lowly. Grips your waist and pushes you against the coolness of the tiles. It takes a hold of the burn and rips it away, relief flooding in its place and your features relax against your will. “See how it feels better?” 

It does, but you don’t give him the benefit of the doubt—you refuse to. Not when you deserve to rot for hurting your boyfriend enough to make him leave, not when it should be him standing here with you—

“Don’t punish yourself,” Jungkook whispers, fixing the temperature yet again, letting the mist disperse. Such a tender, velvety sound that reaches deep inside of you, even when you want to fight him, even when you think that punishing yourself is the least you can do, considering how despicable you’ve become. But then he dabs a small amount of body wash onto his palm, rubs it across your sternum and it nobbles the drift of your self-sabotage. 

You feel the snugness of his touch, the darkness thickening in you and you take a fright of it. 

You put a stop to it. 

Grasping his wrist, you blink through the unrelenting fragrance of cherries filling your nostrils. “Don’t touch me.”

Seeing the panic flitting over your damp eyes, he lets go, respecting your wish. Smears it on the broadness of his chest instead. “Alright, I won’t touch you.” 

You sigh a whiny, vulnerable breath of relief. The glint of his irises ripples as tears pool across them. He, too, blinks them away. Stills as a sculpture while watching the film of your emotions. For a mere moment. Your throat constricts. Time, then, resumes. 

Jungkook hands you the bottle. Silence suffuses the profound atmosphere as you lather yourself in the cherry aroma. Almost without touching your skin, he peels your hair away from your back, capacitating you to reach your shoulder. As if his hands, now that they’ve acknowledged themselves with your body, simply cannot keep their distance. You shoot him a look that forces him to drop his limb. Note that it trembles on its way down to his side; note the same trepidation beginning its course on your body. Your mouth rounds in yet another rush of emotions, but you don’t cry. 

You’re so tired. So tired of feeling. So tired of guilt, of shame, of getting up and falling again. 

You avoid your intimate parts, your breasts and your behind. You hold your body instead, arms wrapped around your ribcage in effort to put yourself back together. You don’t understand why he’s here, why he cares; why he thinks he has the right to touch you without your boyfriend being present, why he thinks the situation between you and Yoongi is something he needs to remedy. And why, ultimately, he thinks it’s right to be on your side, instead of Yoongi’s. 

He’s not your friend. He doesn’t know you. 

You look up at him to fire that question at him, but Jungkook clutches the shower head and, with lukewarm water, he cleanses you of the foam, the bubbles and the stickiness on your thighs that he never got to wipe clean because you had pushed him away earlier. And then it happens. 

He cleanses you of your dirtiness, of your hatred and of your tiredness, too. With the same shower head, the same lukewarm water. And you can’t explain how he does it, how your body lets him, how it willingly lets go until there’s nothing in you anymore. Just the cherry perfume and the hole in your chest with a murky cloud in the middle. You merely watch it dribble down your skin, plop onto the tiles on the floor, swimming around your feet and his. Dumbstruck. 

You feel like stomping on it, but you don’t have the energy. Figure it will drown in the small pool of water on its own, die a slow, painful death, before it trickles down the drain. 

You don’t know how it came about now that it’s gone and you can’t take your eyes off of him. All he did was rinse you off. And the ridiculousness of it all is that, the more Jungkook deepens your eye contact, the more you want it back. You want to be the one who purges you of it. Steal the magic from his hands and splatter it back on your skin, in place of the cherries. He can keep those. 

Why did he come? Why didn’t he go to Yoongi? 

And you ask him. “Why are you here?” 

He fishes for a bottle of shampoo. “Will you let me wash your hair?” 

You scowl up at him. “I asked you a question.” 

Stillness in his features. “So did I.” 

That damned stubbornness, so reminiscent of yours, of your muted, silent one, hidden within you. Fair enough. You search within yourself for any hint of protest. Find none—find it’s been washed away, find cherries and the heft of the cloud, no darkness, much to your dismay. You turn your back towards him. 

“Tilt your head back.” 

Thankful that he didn’t do it himself, you do as he says. Jungkook wets your hair and you feel the pond leaving you, your heart skipping over to latch onto it, adamant on not letting it leave, but alas—it disappears along with everything else. You wish your heart would trickle down the drain, too. You have no need for it, anyways. 

Jungkook’s touch on your hair is benign, careful as he rubs the shampoo on your scalp. You flutter your eyes shut, welcoming in, somehow, the massage that diminishes the intensity, which your thoughts are hurled at you with, as though he was the owner of them and he came home to make order. And they settle altogether to listen as he begins to speak. “It shattered my heart. To see both of you so broken because of me. I saw it at dinner at first. Then I saw it again today. It pains me. It pains me that it’s my fault.” 

Silence, hefty, strong silence. The principle of being seen by another pair of eyes; the principle of your agony being seen and understood, no longer obscured within your mind, within your heart. Jungkook didn’t just see you, he saw Yoongi, too. Saw through you both. Something about that, along with the work of his fingertips, mitigates the heaviness of your emptiness, of your cloud, but it doesn’t tear the misty body. Not yet. 

Your throat is dry. “Why are you here, then? Why aren’t you with Yoongi? He’s your friend.” 

He gently drags his palms across your length. “Because Yoongi deals with things like this on his own. He doesn’t need a friend when he goes through shit. He needs to be alone.” 

You don’t understand. Yoongi always needed you when his mental health was at stake. Needed you as he unraveled the entanglement of ropes of that darkness that had enveloped his mind by talking to you about it. Then, he would eat with you, fuck you and try again the next day. It would be a long process, but it would be something you’d go through together. There never was a time he’d walk that path alone. 

And then it hits you. 

That was before you. Before he met you, he meandered through that decaying meadow alone. Jungkook served in the military—he doesn’t know anything about the change that occurred. Doesn’t know that Yoongi gave up his isolation. 

And you tell him. Merely a hint of it. Figure it’s Yoongi’s story to tell and you don’t have the heart to snatch that opportunity away from him. 

Listening to your words, Jungkook slackens. You only hear the sound of the shower head being put back into its place that indicates his shock to you. You figure he wanted to rinse off the shampoo, but the information paralyzed his body. You turn around to see that bewilderment writing verses across his features. Tenderness, too. A tendril of liquid emotion swirling past his waterline. “I tried my best to make that happen when I could,” he utters and you don’t think he realizes he said it, eyes unfocused, fixed on the tile beside your arm. “You can’t imagine how difficult it was for him. To let you in.” 

You feel the same tenderness curling into your cloud. Your mouth rounds again. Touched, terribly touched. Gladness holds hands with that tenderness, gladness that he didn’t leave when you had told him to. Because if he had never stepped inside the shower, you wouldn’t have known. You wouldn’t have known the secret that changes everything. 

You yearn to see Yoongi. Yearn to hug him, hold him, to pour out your love into him. Think you’re ready now. Stable enough to satisfy your craving. And in the love that you feel for him, you sense the light swarming, begging to be seeped into him. 

You stand beneath the stream to rinse off the shampoo, the water blanketing your head, peace penetrating your skull, tidying up the mess in your mind. Hushing out your thoughts now that your negative feelings long slinked away. You’re a new person. Clean, purified. And while you find it hard to believe, all you want to do is truly run to Yoongi. 

You can’t let him venture back to that forlorn meadow, to the ghost of his isolation. You might have shown him the way, but you have the will to stop him—and that’s more than enough. 

The healer that Jungkook is… he did it again. He dismantled your attachment and now he fixed your mind. You don’t know from what source he had rooted out the light, but he gave it to you. He gave it to you when you needed it the most, without knowing a thing about it. 

Blindly, you hook a finger around his index in a gesture of thanks. You don’t want to look at his nakedness. Don’t want to be pulled into that energy again. It brings his attention to you and you want to weep. Differently now. You want to weep due to the fact he somehow, seemingly, knows because he cups himself. Due to the roundness of his eyes that you know, that still live under your skin—differently now, too. Due to the fact that you got to be acquainted with him, despite the ruckus and the pain it came with. 

And you hope, in all truthfulness, that you remain something along the lines of friends after this day is over. How else would you have gotten to this healing? 

You open your mouth to express your gratitude, but Jungkook speaks first. “Don’t look at my worm.” 

The laughter that dribbles out of your mouth is so lightweight, so full of breezy and summer-breathed relief that the tears, which were held in, do break through the confinement and roll down the apples of your cheeks. Different, different tears. 

Friends, yes, please. You beg the heavens. May they let him become your friend. 

Jungkook scrunches his nose, squeezing your finger, relief, too, washing over him. “Don’t cry, I swear it’s not small like this all the time. It gets bi—”

“Get me a towel, you dummy,” you say, softly, amidst your sputtering laughter, wiping your tears away. Jungkook smiles, the change of the atmosphere illuminating him from beneath, and he slides the door open, letting the slight cold air in. You turn off the water, focusing your eyes on the last ripples of water draining your negative emotions until they slip, entirely, away. 

Jungkook holds out a beige towel for you. Doesn’t wrap it around you; still respects your wish. Lets you take it from him and then he disappears into the bedroom, closing the door shut behind him. 

You used the alone time to doll yourself up for Yoongi. At least a little bit—you didn’t want to overdo it, amongst other things that you already had. 

Although you missed your favorite mango scent, the cherries didn’t seem so bad and you got accustomed to it fairly quickly as you swiped a tiny bit of your cream blush along your cheeks, where you’ve let your relieved tears dry. You smeared the same tint of soft red upon the puffiness of your lips, connecting it to the perfume, connecting it to the healing that sank lower and lower in your gut. And you sealed it into the entwistment of your braid—sealed it fully.

You won’t let it leave you. Not this time; not again. 

By the time your feet pad down the wooden stairs, you discover what Yoongi was up to in his absence. Three plates of ramen are prepared on the dinner table, gone cold by now, along with utensils and opened cans of fizzy drinks. The sight lids your eyes with tears, but you stifle them, blink them away. You thought he wanted to forget you, when in reality he had you in mind the whole time. And not just you, but your culprit as well—and he cooked him food. 

A sudden roar forces your head to whisk towards the balcony. And your heartbeat quickens. You don’t feel your legs as you speed outside. 

Yoongi sits on top of the stairs, a cigarette in hand, torso twisted, facing Jungkook, whose shoulders sag in consternation, palms open towards him. He makes a move to his side, but Yoongi raises a limb to stop him. Looks at you for a moment. At your wet hair, at the same state of Jungkook’s. Your heart lodges in your throat—

“Get away from me,” Yoongi mutters, taking a long drag from his cigarette, and you don’t feel anything at all. Not your legs trembling, threatening to drop to the ground. Not the standstill of your bloodstream. You’re struck, unable to speak, to think. Yoongi rises to his feet and points his busy fingers at you. “Did you enjoy your shower?” he spits the venom in your face, ruining your makeup that you diligently put on for him—your tears flow, mingling with it, hot to the touch. “Did you enjoy fucking him?”

You gasp. “No, Yoongi, I didn’t—”

Yoongi’s own tears pool in his clouded eyes. You’ve never seen them before and they break you, tear apart the cloud in you. “You didn’t what, honey?” he croaks out. Repeats the question. 

Your sobs ache, but you don’t care. You take a step towards him, reach out your hand like you should’ve done earlier before he left and he takes it. The light that spills out from your chest radiates him, radiates him enough that he gives you the chance to explain yourself, to redeem his heart and you’re willing to do anything for it. His palm is cold, more cold than it’s ever been and Yoongi squeezes you, as if to beg you to undo the gashes upon his heart. Jungkook looks at the intertwinement for a mere second and you refuse to note the sliver of pain whirling past his eyes. Not this time; not again—this is about you and Yoongi. And you’re glad when he leaves. You don’t watch him go. 

“I didn’t have sex with him,” you whisper, the only way you could keep your voice still, your tears soaking the neckline of your lacy dress. You will your healing not to quiver, but to remain strong, remain unbreakable. “I swear on my life that I didn’t.” 

The same drops of pain pour down his face and you can’t bear it. You bury your face into his clothed chest, bunching the material of his T-shirt in your fists, needing him to believe you, needing him—

“You took a shower with him,” he breathes in pure disbelief. You feel it palpitate in his heart that your forehead is pressed against. This time, you understand right away how wrong that was—that showers are something that belongs to you and him, your shared rose garden of some sort that they could become, even though you were too smothered by the darkness to realize it fully in the moment.

You halt the shame creeping in. The guilt, the wisps of darkness. You’ve healed, and it shall stay that way. No more. 

“I took a shower alone.” The wind nips at you and it is like a slash of a whip on your back. “He came in—”

Yoongi sucks in a breath. Lets his cigarette fall to the floor of the veranda. With his lips pursed and like a bolt of lightning you can’t keep in your hands, he rips himself out of your hold and lopes inside the cabin with heavy, wrathful steps. 

And you can’t stop it—the colliding of Yoongi’s fist on Jungkook’s cheekbone. 

You yelp, grabbing a hold of the fabric of Yoongi’s T-shirt to pull him back, your sight blurred enough that you can’t see. You can’t see properly the way Yoongi doesn’t let Jungkook fall to the floor, but instead grabs him by the collar and fumes in his face. Your sobs choke you and you press yourself against his back, wrapping your arms around his torso, willing him to stop, begging him in your silent language. 

You feel the heavy, long thuds of his heart, the trembling lift and fall of his chest and you squeeze him tighter, weeping into the cloth of his garment, emitting liquid fear—fear of Yoongi receiving the same hit, fear of the darkness, much bigger one, enveloping all three of you. And you don’t have the time to blame yourself for causing this. Yoongi’s words stop you dead in your tracks. 

“You forced yourself on her?” he hisses, pushing him to and fro like the curtain billowing behind you. “Are you that fucking desperate for pussy that you forced yourself on my girl? Should I fucking kill you?” 

A momentary stillness. Your breath is loud. Louder than the hard huffs of air escaping the mouths of the two males. 

“Let go, hyung,” Jungkook croaks out, defeated. And you don’t know how the sound of it makes you feel. Perhaps, you’re feeling nothing, which is a good thing. You put your boyfriend first in your weak heart, his feelings, his well-being. Not Jungkook; not yourself. Even though your heart silently, painlessly cracks. 

“I asked you a question.” Yoongi’s wrath rises, absorbing the room, despite the fact his voice is deadly calm. You squeeze him harder. 

He did force himself into your personal space, but if he hadn’t, you wouldn’t have been healed. You wouldn’t be here, on your boyfriend’s side. And the thought of being the opposite force if he hadn’t done that, cradling his back instead of Yoongi’s terrifies you enough that you speak up—in need to fix the situation. 

“He didn’t, Yoongi. I promise,” you whimper, burying your face deeper into the middle between his shoulder blades. And there you feel his spine shake. You caress his stomach to soothe him, peppering kisses along that strong column. 

Yoongi punches him again. It reverberates throughout your whole body. You only hear the crash of Jungkook’s form onto the floor. 

“Only over my dead body will you lay a finger on her again,” Yoongi hisses and he twists his wrist to alleviate himself of the affliction scattering along his knuckles. “And what you’ve done to her, the pain you’ve caused her is something I will never forgive you for.” 

Stillness. Terrible, terrible stillness. The whip of the wind. A roar of an upcoming storm in the heavens far, far away. You don’t become it. You remain yourself. His girlfriend, defended. 

Yoongi turns around and cradles your face in his hands. Wet, worried eyes, begging you for something that you can’t pinpoint. Shiny, sniffling nose, suppressing his emotions. Red, regretful mouth, breathing out exasperated breaths. Quivering chin—quaint in the rawness of his expressed love towards you. You yearn to kiss him, you yearn to take him home, so terribly remorseful that you got him into this gut-wrenching mess. And you listen to your body, fulfill the only right decision you’ve come across since meeting his friend. 

“Let’s go home, baby,” you whisper, pecking him softly. Yoongi nods, wiping your tears away. Takes your hand and leads you towards the front door. 

Jungkook, now standing on his wobbly feet, bruised and bloodied, merely watches the pair of you. Sorrowful. And as you walk away from him, you clutch in your heart what he’s done for you. 

Yoongi hands you his car keys. “Wait in the car.” 

You nod and you go. Don’t stick around to see the unfolding of the storm. Don’t say goodbye. 

The rain pitter-patters on the roof of the car. You’re tired of it. You’re tired of the summer. Don’t find any beauty in it. Not even in the mountains and the trees. 

Yoongi hasn’t come back yet. 

Your stomach grumbles, but you don’t feel any hunger. You’ve nibbled on your bottom lip so much that rawness of blood is all that your teeth sink into. The same blood that, much like your darkened self-sabotage, trickled out of Jungkook’s nostril. It tastes bitter on your tongue. 

A ruthless carousel of scenarios spin in your mind and you’re tightly buckled in the seat of fear with no way out. The fear that, in your absence, Yoongi’s hit got reciprocated. The fear that the same blood you taste could, possibly, be on your own hands. 

You want to get away from here. Far, far away. 

When Yoongi emerges from the cabin, a thunder announces it. The only blood you detect is the dried one on his knuckles. The rain didn’t get to clean it and once he places the same hand upon the shivering coldness of your thigh, a decision perks up in you. A decision to not let anyone get in the way of mending and cleansing anymore.  

You shall be the one who does it now. Not the rain, not Jungkook. They’ve both done enough. 

And when you lift that wounded hand to your lips, you wish you could clean it with your tears—but you fear the salt would only pain him more. So you settle for your sighs of relief, for your gentle kisses and for the light in you to do the work. 

“No more tears, honey,” Yoongi murmurs, cupping your chin and pecking you. “It’s over now.” 

You drift to sleep during the ride home. 

And you sleep through the whole afternoon in an anguished effort to forget. Forget the blood, forget the sound of Jungkook’s body hitting the floor… forget yourself. 

You didn’t dream about anything at all. Only the darkness consumed you, a lullaby of nothingness. 

And when you awake, your feet groggily take you to Yoongi. They seem to know where he is, even when your eyelids are still half-closed, even when your brain still dozes. A canopy of dusky, darkening heavens, with hues of roses dispersed all around, gently fondles your eyes to rouse them fully and right here, on the balcony, much different to the one you spent your afternoon on—much smaller, much more confined—is where you find your boyfriend. An empty pack of cigarettes on the table, a cold purple lighter and a dark bottle of liquor.

His strained back greets you first. He doesn’t hear your steps; he doesn’t sense your presence and it isn’t until your fingertips touch his saddened spine that he turns around. Wrinkles of the same dejected nature, absolute despair wrung into the paleness of his face. You cradle it and you bolster it when he spills into your hands, when you feel the hotness of his tears. And you spill with him—the only thing left to do. 

You will your light to swathe him. Press his head against your chest as you lead him to take a seat with you on his lap. And you keep your mouth tightly shut when the soreness of your muscles, the slight discomfort of the burn on your skin forces a whine out of you. You keep it caged in. Put your boyfriend first. 

Sifting your fingers through his hair, you kiss his scalp—kiss his mind, even when you don’t know its contents. To ease it, whatever it was that caused him to break. 

You sit like this until the moon springs from the clouds. You don’t look at it. Refuse to. 

It’s Yoongi who speaks first, cold fingers sunk beneath your thighs, seeking your warmth. 

“Tell me everything from the beginning,” he murmurs, weary eyes boring into yours. “I need to hear it from you.” 

You’d give him anything he asked, anything he wished for; you’d pierce your heart if the time asked for it. And so you nod, place your hand on his chest, lie against his good shoulder and you begin to leak. Leak the simplest of words you’re able to find in your windswept mind. 

“He put me in a trance when we were intimate. So much that I lost my mind, lost my surroundings, lost my sense of home.” You swallow, dryly, thinking that’s the best way you could explain it without deepening the gashes upon his heart. Decide you will not overdo it. “And when you left and I breathed in the fresh air, it was like I’d woken up from it. It hurt so much. I was worried about you, but I wasn’t ready to face you. Not when I had to deal with the repercussions.” 

Yoongi squeezes the flesh of your thigh to comfort you, thumb fondling the skin back and forth, listening intently. 

“I didn’t understand at first why you left. I was so out of it. But little pieces started to put it together in my mind as I was thinking about it. And then I saw Jungkook with his head in his hands and I knew I’d done something really, really bad. I wanted to run away, like you did, but I had no other place to go to other than the bathroom. And Jungkook…” you trail off, taking a deep breath, preparing yourself mentally for this part of the story—the thread that is linked to the bruises upon Yoongi’s knuckles. “I thought he wanted to comfort me, and maybe he did. I pushed him away but he relented. He was concerned because I—” A lump forms in your throat, your lashes quiver. “I made sure the water was boiling hot because I wanted to burn off—I wanted to punish myself for making you leave, for hurting you. And then he got in the shower and I didn’t say anything.” 

You pause for a moment, thinking about how you’re supposed to mention the matter of the burn of your backside and his concern regarding it without wounding Yoongi. 

“He—” Your throat constricts and Yoongi cradles your face in his palm, lifting your head so you can gaze into his eyes, draw strength from him. He nods, encouraging you to continue, while seemingly giving you as much time as you need. Tears the lump apart. “He was worried because the hot water was making the burn on my butt worse, but I—I didn’t feel it. I was crying so hard.” 

His eyes search for something in yours and you know right away what it is. The answer to his question on whether he touched you. You wrap your arm around his neck. Glad it didn’t wound him. Enough that you overbrim with the desire to assuage his disquiet. 

“He didn’t touch me,” you whisper, although it’s not entirely true. Cold sweat dribbles down your spine. “Not in the way you think. I told him to stop. He wanted to wash me. I told him no.” 

He blinks, but you can’t read his solemn features. You see the memory of Jungkook gripping your waist and pushing you against the tiles, so you wouldn’t burn your skin, and you saying nothing displayed on them. It overwhelms you, but you fight it. What’s done is done.  

The worst part of the story awaits you. You pluck it, ready to get it over with. 

“All he did was rinse me off. And he told me about how it hurt him to see us like this because of him. I felt everything leaving me when I was listening to him. I don’t know how, but I did. He asked to wash my hair and I let him. I felt so relieved to be ridded of the guilt and the pain I felt that I started crying again. He made me laugh. And then he left me alone. I don’t know what would’ve happened to me if he hadn’t been there.” 

Stillness, awfully quiet stillness—like the one at the cabin, but you do not fear it. An abrupt onrush of strength fills your bones, giving you the notion that whatever comes next is something you’ll be able to endure. 

Yoongi drops his hand. You will your heart not to drop along with it. 

“The lines have been blurred so much that I—” He averts his gaze. Towards the glimmering stars up above as if they could give him the strength he’s now void of. “I don’t know if it’s fair for me to feel the way I do, when—when I let him have you.” 

You are able to endure it. A motherly stimulus creeps in, one that has the capacity for the mightiness of whatever it is that he’s feeling. You want to swallow it down. You desire to. 

“What do you feel, baby?” you whisper, nudging your nose against his, an Eskimo kiss to relieve him, to help him. “Tell me.” 

Yoongi narrows his eyes in regret. “It should’ve been me,” he breathes. You nod, agreeing with him, even though you’ve accepted that fate wrote it was meant to be Jungkook. Perhaps for that very reason, he was inscribed to be pulled into that whole situation to begin with, no matter how lewd it was. “And it should’ve been me under that—”

He doesn’t let himself finish his sentence, but you know what he wanted to say. It brings tears to your eyes, the fact that he hated what you had done to yourself and instead wished it was him—to whom the harm was done. 

You let them pour out. You don’t want them smothering you. You want everything out, so you can move on—so both of you can. 

“It’s okay,” you whisper. Another Eskimo kiss, a longer one this time. Yoongi sniffles against you and you want to pull out more from him, to rid him completely of those negative feelings. “Like you said, it’s over now.” 

Yoongi nods, vulnerably, and you peck him on the mouth. And he’s unable to reciprocate the kiss, for his features twist in another rush of liquid emotions. You stroke the back of his hair, running your fingers down its length, urging softly more out. 

“I don’t regret anything,” you continue, pressing your cheek against his tears, letting them seep into your skin. “Even though it hurt, I don’t regret it, Yoongi. Neither should you.” 

He sobs and it reverberates through your body. You remain strong. Strong like the mountains. “I hurt him.” 

The breath you inhale is knifing you sharply. “He loves you—”

“And I hurt him,” he cuts in, squeezing you against him, needing you. “I didn’t trust a word he said. I didn’t—” he heaves, unable to catch his breath, hiccups. “Because I thought he hurt you, I didn’t hear him out. I didn’t know he helped you.” 

“What did he tell you?”

“He told me he didn’t force himself on you, but I didn’t believe him. I gave him so much shit for it, for spanking you. And then he begged me to hit him again.” 

The healer deemed it would make Yoongi feel better. Your heart warps. 

“Did you?” 

“No.” 

You kiss his temple and you don’t realize that it’s a silent thanks until you lift your lips, however you’re not thrown off balance. It should be like this. You should feel for both men. You should feel. It makes you a living, breathing human. And Yoongi’s reactions and emotions make him human, too, even if they seem wrong in the moment. It’s not something to hate him or judge him for—it’s something to love him for. He should feel safe. Deserves to. 

It’s better than to feel nothing. 

And you tell him. A thousand times until he nods, sloshing your words in his mouth before carefully swallowing them, accepting them. 

“It’s not a lost cause. You can talk to him. And you can try again.” 

Yoongi looks at you as he takes in what you’ve said, as if the concept never crossed his mind—or, if it did, it perhaps seemed too unrealistic to make happen. As if he was doomed for life. As if he lost him forever. 

Love is never lost. And you tell him that as well. 

Yoongi lights up from within. You wipe away his tears. Brush his hair away from his face. And you give him every last drop of your light, hugging him. And he hugs you back until birds begin to sing in the sky. 

It took several weeks for Yoongi to gather courage to call Jungkook. Liquor bottles piled in a row on the balcony and you didn’t count them anymore, you just joined your boyfriend, who had become a frail skeleton, whenever his nerves asked for the burning liquid. Either you would keep him company or you’d bring your own shot glass. And each time, it would end with a subdued, murky therapy session, without the fucking. 

Yoongi hasn’t touched you since the afternoon spent in the cabin. 

He wasn’t in the mood and you stifled yours. Your body was so accustomed to the daily release of pleasure that because it didn’t have it now all of a sudden, it felt weird—it felt out of place, and you drowned it out with alcohol and smokes, drowned it out with shopping sprees until money ran out and stashes became empty. So you had to settle for your own hand. 

And it was easy. You daydreamed about Jungkook. Felt the ghost of his fingers on every sensitive place your hand roamed. On your breast, on your thigh and on your clit, in your entrance. You replayed everything he’d done to you and it didn’t hurt; you didn’t feel shame. You’ve healed to the point that it drenched you, aroused you enough to coax your orgasm out in mere minutes.

And it didn’t feel shameful because Yoongi had told you the reason why he fled the scene. 

“You were in pain and I couldn’t stand it. You wouldn’t look at me and if you did, you’d look away as if I had no role in the sex. He took control when it should’ve been me. And I didn’t do anything to stop it.” 

It wasn’t about you being so preoccupied in the trance. It was about Jungkook taking charge as if you were his. Which was what led Yoongi to think he forced himself on you in the shower. It was about him being silent and not speaking up, prioritizing your pleasure. 

It made sense to you, but you still apologized. For what, you didn’t know. Just felt the need to. And Yoongi made you feel so safe, as safe as you had made him feel that night on the balcony, that you couldn’t help but yap about how enjoyable it was for you—what Jungkook did to you. And Yoongi agreed. 

You were content that you’ve moved past the hurt and focused on the real truth beneath, revealing it: you both had enjoyed it when you were pleasured. 

You didn’t check if the conversation made him hard, for you ran into your bedroom to relieve yourself of the ache between your legs as fast as possible. But he found you. Watched you. Validated you. Validated your daydreams. Told you what to do as he smoked a cigarette, standing in between your outstretched legs before the bed, the summer wind cooling the sweat on your body. And then he told you to do it again. 

And again. 

Until he couldn’t pull out any more orgasms out of you. 

He became obsessed with it. 

Because the next day and the many after that, you did the same thing. He would watch you while you fingered yourself. He’d tell you what he’s doing to you in your daydreams, taking charge of them, what Jungkook is doing to you. Other times he’d jerk off and come all over your tummy and cunt. Still remain hard; still remain needy. He wouldn’t fuck you. Couldn’t. Wouldn’t even insulate it. Wouldn’t slip it inside the dreams. And once his desire would run out of its sweet wine, yours simply wouldn’t. And the more you both indulged in this act, you figured out two things. 

One, Yoongi used it as a coping mechanism. As a healing tool to recuperate from the afternoon spent in the cabin, one that would ultimately help him have sex with you in the long run. Two, you were riding the waves of ideas and excitement with no real fulfillment, with no release. 

Tasting the picture of the sin at first might have been enough—but the more you did it, the more you wanted to sink your teeth into the real thing. 

You wanted Jungkook again. 

And like the intelligent man Yoongi is, he figured it out, too. 

A certain number of orgasms was an indication of an ending to this playful time. And the last time you did this, Yoongi—at this number—was ready to withdraw and jump into the shower, but you grabbed his arm and pulled him back. Hungry, starved, devouring his neck, grinding your still wet pussy against his softening cock. 

He put two and two together. Immediately.

“You’re hungry for what I haven’t given you yet, aren’t you?” 

You begged for it, moaning against his artery, reveling in the feeling of his cock against you after such a long time. And when you looked at him, you saw drunkenness seizing his features. Drunkenness without the consumption of alcohol. And you felt the same inebriation enclosing around yours, knowing your desire sparked this inside of him. It felt different. Way, way different. 

“Think about how you want it. Make yourself come as many times as you want. And when I come back from the shower, tell me about it. We’ll figure it out; we’ll make it work.” 

It grazed your hunger. Squeezed it in such a playful way. Like a human hand squeezing an animal because of the cute-aggression it feels towards it. 

You didn’t know how many times you came. You were too lost in the story you constructed, soaking the bed sheets even more than you already had. Your fingers had turned wrinkly by the time you opened your eyes, finished with the plot, to see Yoongi leaning against the doorway to the bedroom, not having the heart to disturb you in your passion. 

And while you showered, playing the story in your head over and over, Yoongi cooked you food. Poured you liquid courage. Waited for you at the table, dressed only in a pair of joggers. Chain-smoked, the rule of only smoking on the balcony long forgotten during his process of healing. 

When you sat down to eat, you slid your feet across his lap. Lifted your camisole, let him see your bare cunt the way he liked it that one time; the scent of your mango body butter wafting in the air, the sultriness of an August evening carrying that eccentricness right into his senses, readying him for what you were about to tell him. 

And you began, casually, with every bite of the delicious food he made you. You got ahead of yourself, though, dumb by the intensity of adrenaline and arousal coursing in your veins. “I want you to dictate every move. And it’s up to you if you let him fuck me or not. My first idea from the start was—”

“I want you to tell me your full fantasy. What you touched yourself to. From the beginning ‘til the end.” 

You fixed your mistake quickly. 

“I dreamed about him watching us. You gave him rules. No touching. Hands on the armchair I wanted him to sit in. No talking. Then, I began with you letting him see what we’ve been doing. Loudly, vulgarly. Me playing with my pussy while you jerked off until you came all over me. Then you ate me out and wouldn’t stop until I begged you to fuck me. From behind. While you stretched my ass with a butt plug.” 

“Did I talk? Like I do normally?” 

“Yes. He heard it all. Every word you used. And I wanted you to do it to make him needy. Needy enough to beg you to let him fuck me.” 

Yoongi only cursed. And you felt him hardening again under the soles of your feet. You caressed his ache with your toes.

“He thought the butt plug was used to stretch me for him, but it was for my pleasure, for decoration. You only let him pump your cum deeper into me. You didn’t let him come. And you held me from behind. Held me open for him in the air. And then he begged you for mercy. You gave in. Dropped me to the floor. And he fucked me ruthlessly, keeping me still on the floor with his thighs around me. He wasn’t able to last long. Begged you to let him come in me and you did. And then… then he ate me out. And so did you. At the same time. And I came so hard that I squirted. Then we took a shower. All three of us.” 

“Did anything happen in the shower?” Quick, hard breaths, as if he was on the verge of an orgasm from your footjob. 

And he proved to you, with a groan, that he was when you finished your story and his joggers dampened. “No, you both just held me. And we kissed like crazy.” 

And it was this release of cum that drove him to make that phone call. 

When Jungkook picks up on the first ring, Yoongi grabs his keys, blows you an air kiss and leaves. The joy that thrums in your heart is unlike any you’ve ever felt. You know where he’s gone. You know it fully well. 

And in the meantime, you doll yourself up. 

Hours later, he returns. With a grin blossomed on his face, one you haven’t seen since the day at the cabin, and a pink bag in his hand, one he hands you as soon as he takes off his shoes. 

Inside you find the butt plug you dreamed of. Silver with a purple faux diamond in the middle. Fairly small, just the kind you’re certain you will be able to take. With a freebie of a much smaller packet of lube. To be safe playing out the fantasy. 

Yoongi kisses you so hard when you look up at him that he steals all of your breath, ridding you of your chance to thank him. 

“He’s coming over later.” 

You kiss him, equally hard. Happy that he’s happy, happy to see movement in his healing journey. You give him tiny kisses, a hundred of them, and he breathes a laugh into your mouth, his joy filling you with energy and exhilaration. Finally, finally, finally—you’ve missed this emotion of his. Glad for the sadness, for the murkiness to be gone. 

And you pray nothing gets in the way. 

When Jungkook announces his arrival by knocking on the door, the sight you’re met with is quite uncanny. Though your heart isn’t stirred by it, bouncing in your chest like a small child seeing its father after a long, long time. 

It’s been almost a month and he’s become older since the last time you saw him. His hair, grown longer and thicker, curls at his temples, ears and the nape of his neck. Round eyes have stayed the same, as well as the glint, and there’s a hint of the same joy that you’ve found in Yoongi, whirling in circles past it. Nose void of any blood, cheekbone healed from bruises. His demeanor is careful as if he had been punished enough by the fight and the silent treatment that followed it, taking off his shoes and his zipper hoodie, revealing a much bigger broadness of shoulders and arms, exposed in a tight fit of a black tank. 

While Yoongi drowned his sorrow in alcohol and smokes and then came across his relief, his air in a sexual fantasy with his friend involved, he—the said friend—clearly found his coping mechanism in the gym. 

He’s huge. As if he hadn’t already been from the military. 

You lick your lips at him, and it’s such a natural reaction that you don’t even think about what you’ve done until you perceive that he doesn’t look at you at all. And it turns you on. It turns you on that he’s holding himself back from you. You know what hides beneath, what comes out when he lets go of his good boy persona.  

Glancing at Yoongi, he’s already smirking at you with a playful gaze. Affected by his ignoring of you just the same. The shared connection thickens the energy around, but Jungkook breaks it. 

He breaks it once he lifts his head, hangs his hoodie on the back of a chair and envelops you in a hug. Defaces your evident tendency to view him as an object, scribbles it in slashes until the ink runs out. All by a few strokes of his hand down your hair, down your back clothed in a new silky robe. 

And when he withdraws from the hug, you see the healer that helped you become the person Yoongi needed on his journey. 

His somber eyes skim over the long length of your nighttime attire, as if lamenting over the fact it’s not the red one. Over its dusty-pink color that parts the fabric to reveal your smooth leg and your toes. And then he’s gone, pulling your boyfriend in the same hug that lasts a bit longer, uttering silent words that should’ve been said that afternoon at the cabin with each increase of squeezes and pats within the hold. 

You know they’ve said what they needed to hear during the phone call to mend what’s been broken. You feel a certain proudness of Yoongi for managing so well, for being at this very part of the journey. It’s praiseworthy. 

“You hungry?” 

Jungkook looks at you at last, imaginary puppy ears perking up at your question. And his eyes soften, wet with emotion from the reunion. He rubs his belly. “Starving.” 

You shuffle your feet to make your way into the kitchen, but Yoongi beats you to it. Wave a hand towards the table, inviting him to sit and, out of habit, you pour some liquid courage into a shot glass for him from the bottle you keep there instead of a vase filled with flowers. 

He merely glances at it. Doesn’t drink it. 

“How have you been?” you ask, screwing the lid back on, not being able to take your eyes off of him—your entire history faintly blanketing your sight. 

And he deepens the eye contact. 

“How do you like your butt plug?” 

Taken aback, you laugh, the atmosphere so airy all of a sudden that your cheeks flush and your lungs heave with affability. This is the friendship you had begged the heavens for. Without strings, without pain. Light-natured friendship, with flirtation in the middle. You find it hard to believe you have it. Find it hard to believe he’s here. 

Find it hard to believe that when you had told Yoongi he could try again, he took your words and created this, embedding it into your fate. 

“It’s pretty,” you say, grinning so wide your cheeks hurt. Jungkook smiles, fondly, fingers wrapping around the shot. You’re reminded, momentarily, of the way he teased you with the foot of his wine glass on your first dinner date. 

As if thinking about that night, too, his other fingers sneak to your bare knee, tapping it once. “We picked it for you.” 

You nod in feigned, exaggerated gratitude, even though you mean it, even though the thought of them choosing a sex toy for you makes you burst into flames from within. “Thank you, Oppa. Thank you so much. I will use it well.” And you bow to him with each word in your seat next to him.

Jungkook laughs and it’s such a sweet sound that you feel unfamiliar flowers growing in you, laughing along with him. He lays his palm flat on the entirety of your knee. Heavy, strong, warm. Then, he widens his eyes, as if he only now realized what you’ve called him. “You’re younger than me?” 

You’ve guessed he was older than you. “I was born in 1999. I take it you’re around the same age as Yoongi?” 

Not the same, entirely. You recall him calling Yoongi ‘hyung’. He must be a year or a few years younger. 

That tenderness you know flashes in his face. “I was born in 1997. Yoongi is older than me.” 

Your mouth opens in the shape of ‘O’. Jungkook’s eyes flick to it before he averts them, slapping the side of your thigh gently, sighing as if he held his breath the entire time. Only then does he down the shot you poured him, keeping his hand there. 

Such a blessing, the simple act of getting to know him. 

He slouches in his seat and you ask him again. “How have you been?”

Smacking his mouth, he roams his gaze along the perimeters of the dinner table. And you realize he’s avoiding the question. Avoided it the first time you launched it at him, too. 

You fold your fingers under his palm on your knee, signaling your understanding and sympathy. Don’t want to think about the healing journey he had to walk through by himself. He’s reached the end and that’s the most important thing as of now. You caress his reddened, tattooed knuckles, smeared with flecks of violet and yellow—much like your bum that one afternoon—with your thumb, wondering how that tinge came to live there. “What happened to your hand?” 

Jungkook contemplates your study of his hand, stoically, still as ever. Then, his mouth rounds, barely, in a tiny suggestion of sadness. Your heart catches it before it disappears, making it hers. In such a swift moment that you don’t realize what you’ve done. 

“Boxing,” he murmurs, eyeing the way your hand is enclosed around his large palm, the way your thumb hovers over his knuckles, as if afraid to cause them any more pain. Seems touched by it and your brows knit, your heart speaking to you, telling you something, urgently, but you don’t understand her. 

“You don’t wear boxing gloves?” 

Jungkook shakes his head ‘no’. “Didn’t want to.” 

And then it hits you—the language of your heart unfolding within you, deciphered at last. It hits you how you and him are very much alike. 

This is his coping mechanism. Hurting his hand as he lets out his negative emotions. Knowing, just like you, that the pain is the gain, the relief. And by the state of the bruises, you were wrong. He’s not at the end of his healing journey—and he’s nowhere near the beginning. He traipses around it, steering clear of it, ignoring it. 

Your lungs swell. And that motherly impulse you’re familiar with croons around them, extends towards him with the dutiful intention to heal. 

And you will. 

You will heal both of the males. 

And the decision is strengthened even more in you when Jungkook hears Yoongi’s footsteps and startles, extracting his hand from your hold, from your thigh. Like he startled upon hearing your movement back then, scurrying towards your bag as if you were intending to leave him, abandon him. 

It is your heart that weeps now for him, not your eyes, remembering the words Yoongi uttered over his bruised cheek and bloody nose. Only over my dead body will you lay a finger on her again. You try your hardest to remain strong on the outside. For him, for Yoongi, for yourself. You try your hardest to forget that declaration, that physical pain of his, considering it over—long gone, a lifetime away. 

And when your boyfriend sets the full plates of food in front of him and he digs in wordlessly, you watch him. With a landslide in your insides. With a hand on his muscled arm, stroking back and forth, eyes flicked momentarily to Yoongi, willing him to see how broken his friend is. 

But Yoongi can’t bear to see it. 

He settles for a drink instead, fixing his gaze on the table. Takes a step back on his journey, his nerves pursuing him. And so he’s not alone, because it is your duty, you follow him into that rabbit hole like the Alice you are. With empty hands, void of any control, despite the onus you own in your heart. 

By the time sex is even mentioned between the three of you, you’re tipsy and your head is swimming. 

You’re conscious, aware of your body, aware of your surroundings and your home. Aware that you’re intoxicated, too, and it’s a peculiar feeling—to be present in your body and out of it just the same. And you owe it to the males sitting around the table. To the owner of the house, mainly. 

Yoongi has taken such a dominant role naturally that he’s the reason why your head is taking laps in his energy. And it was him who put the topic of sex to the front after double meanings found their way into the gradually unfurling conversation, imbued with exuberance. Asked Jungkook straight away if he’d been sexually active with people after you, to which he merely shook his head ‘no’, too vulnerable to express it in his own words. You don’t think Yoongi even realized the gravity of the question, influenced by the alcohol, the lighthearted energy and the fact that he got his friend back. And Yoongi… he praised him for it, making his head lift in disbelief and coyness. You saw the way it healed him, brought color to his face— it happened so quickly, too quickly, Yoongi turning the leaf over right after, seamlessly leading the conversation back to the double meanings, working them up until you and Jungkook blushed. 

But you didn’t listen entirely, and neither did Jungkook. You surveyed the way he turned the praise over in his mind, dwelling on it. And you knew, without a doubt, that, besides healing him—undoing the ugly words flung at him that day, it turned him on. He played with his bracelet in the air, a faint smile on his mouth, legs outstretched, touching yours, and you… you wanted to play with him, too. Your body begged you for it, telling you it’s time. 

In fact, you knew very well what the little bit of alcohol Yoongi drank was doing to him. Much like Jungkook, it helped him avoid the matter of his friend’s sensitive burden at hand while collecting information. Especially about where he stands in the realm of the three of you and sex. And while you’ve let him do it, thinking it was something he needed to do on his journey, you've also been deciding for the last half an hour when it was time to put a stop to it. The sexual comments, the double meanings—it became too much, became too obvious, even though he, in most probability, wasn’t even aware of it, was doing it for you unconsciously. And your body agreed, whispering to you that the only way you could do that was to take advantage of what was right before you.

You were going to outrun your boyfriend and seduce them both. 

You light up a cigarette, bringing Yoongi’s attention to you. You graze your foot on his shin as you cross your legs, lifting it higher until you reach his thigh. And when you take a long drag, you skim your hand on Jungkook’s knee, briefly—calling for his attention, too, preparing him. Your toe feels up Yoongi’s soft manhood and he stops talking, your hand trailing along the side of Jungkook’s thigh, inches away from his intimate parts. They let you touch them, both heads turned in your direction. 

Stillness, arousing stillness. You smile, innocently. 

Before Yoongi has the chance to scold you for interrupting him, you withdraw. You withdraw entirely. Pretend to take your cigarette to the balcony. Jungkook lifts his hand to grab yours, to put it back where it was, but you’re gone before you could take him up on it. 

You feel both of them watching you as you leave. You sway your hips a little. It makes you chuckle. Makes you feel invincible.

You stay there but for a mere moment. Don’t even finish your cigarette before you put it out in the ashtray. And when you return, you undo the knot while they are preoccupied, unaware of you. Uncover the outfit you spent your money on while Yoongi healed. 

A sheer, black crop top, with polka dots and puffed sleeves, that ties in the middle, ending beneath your breasts and adding nothing to the imagination. Could be mistaken for a wireless bra. Panties of the same tulle material with frills on the side. You leave your robe undone, the act of revealing yourself so casually stiffening your nipples. You consider taking a seat as if you did no such thing, but an idea pulls you to your boyfriend, who’s ignorant to your scheme, listening to something that Jungkook is telling him. 

You don’t grasp any of the words coming out of his mouth, however you do focus on the deep intonation of his voice. Let it curl beneath your skin; propel you to act out on your whim. 

You take a seat on Yoongi’s lap. Jungkook’s gaze falls on your intimate form, bare under the almost translucent fabric, and he parts his lips. He watches as Yoongi wraps an arm around your middle and smiles at the feeling of your bare skin. You rock your hips once, backwards, pretending you’re shifting to make yourself comfortable and Yoongi grips your waist until his fingers turn white. Jungkook doesn’t stop talking, hides his astonishment at your behavior, at your boldness. Doesn’t stop looking at you and neither do you at him, nodding to every other word as if you were listening. That is until you grab a handful of cheese balls and pop one by one into your mouth, purposefully letting one of them fall into your cleavage. 

“Can you get it for me? My hands are full.”

You have a perfectly free hand by your side.

You’ve interrupted him so rudely that you’re surprised that he doesn’t frown at you, but smirks instead. Yoongi caresses your thigh, validating you, catching onto your scheme, and it spreads the fire that burst in you hours ago, making it bigger, hotter. 

It’s time. You want both of them, badly. 

You lean forward for him, fingers ready for the next move you’re planning. Jungkook lifts a hand, reaches for the orange treat in the middle of your breasts and before his digits have the time to grasp it, you pull on the loose knot on your top, your flesh spilling, the treat slipping onto the floor.

He only chuckles, deeply. Teased, but pleased. 

“Oh, no.” Fake pity; fake pout. You look at the cheese ball, then back at Jungkook. Your impishness reflects in the blazing fire of his eyes, the same one that courses through your body. “I guess I didn’t tie it properly. Can you do it for me? My hand is dirty.” 

You eat the last remaining cheese balls while staring him dead in the eye. Show him your orange-tinted fingers once you’re done. A spark flashes in the fire; piques his interest. 

Leaning forward even more, Yoongi uses your position to slide your robe down your shoulders. Lifts you for a second to rid you completely of it, setting you back down sharply, causing your breasts to bounce. Throws it on Jungkook’s lap. A gesture that tells him playtime has begun. He sucks in a breath, biting his bottom lip, the way Yoongi gathers your hair in his fist stealing his attention fleetingly from you, fingers clutching the fabric. 

And when he takes the swinging laces in his hands and barely tightens them, you click your tongue, disapprovingly. “Tighter.” 

It arouses the beast in him, eyes lidding ever so slightly. He pulls on the laces until your breasts are squished together. “Like this?” 

You wet your lips before you quirk them up. “Yes. Make a bow for me.” 

Jungkook deepens the eye contact as he obeys. You lift your chin, asserting Yoongi’s dominance, taking after him, the inkling to own that beast in him absorbing you whole. 

And you shall. 

When he’s finished with the bow, he grazes the material of your top, fingers flat against your nipples before he slouches back in his chair. The touch was too brief for your liking, yet it spurs your cunt to soak your panties, the notion that you’ve done it intoxicating your senses—you’ve seduced him. 

You mimic what he did, theatrically—you slouch back into Yoongi’s chest, turn your chin to the side to tell on him. “Yoongi, he touched me.” 

Yoongi only smirks, playing along. “Did he? How? Show me.” 

Your fingers fly to your pebbled nipples, stroking them in downward motion like he did before you repeat it. Again and again. Your hips begin to slowly rotate, your body reacting to your touch, to the pleasure you’re giving it. “Like this.” 

Jungkook’s breath hitches in his throat. He spreads his legs. You do, too. And when you whimper, he twitches, your robe slipping onto the ground, joining the cheese ball. 

“Did it feel good? When he touched you there?” Yoongi asks, hands spreading across your thighs. You make a noise of agreement, whining into it. “Does it feel as good now?” 

You shake your head ‘no’, meaning it. “No, it makes me needy.”  

Yoongi hums. “Where?” 

You cup the soaked material of your panties, right over your cunt with one hand, while the other squeezes your breast. “Here.” 

Your boyfriend opens your legs wider, as if to take a closer look at what body part you’re showing him. “You should do something about that, shouldn’t you?”

“Like what?” 

“Touch yourself.” 

Jungkook stills. Doesn’t breathe. Doesn’t blink. Neither do you. 

“How?” 

“I don’t know, maybe I should ask him,” he mumbles, fingers playing with the frills on your hips. “Do you want me to ask him?” 

The asking of consent, beckoning out your slick. You nod your head. “Ask him, please, I can’t take it anymore.”

Jungkook’s mouth is parted in an enigmatic manner, waiting—waiting to be given what your boyfriend long teased him with. And you like the suspense, the tension pulled so taut, the process before he’s gratified. It makes you even needier and, like Jungkook, you clutch the fabric of your panties in impatience. 

Yoongi doesn’t ask right away. He tortures Jungkook until his lips lose their moisture. Dry, like a withered flower asking for the tiniest raindrop to refresh. And you want to give it to him. You’re leaking so much dewiness it is only right that he could get to drink it. You tuck that thought into your heart. 

Yoongi hooks his thumbs under the waistband of your panties and slowly, like your robe, drags them down as far as he can reach. Then, he lets them pool by your knees. “Take them off of her,” he commands in a hushed tone, fingers drifting to your waist, stopping by your mound and your stomach on the way. And it isn’t until Jungkook rids you fully of the wet undergarment that he finally asks: “How should she touch herself?” 

Jungkook crumples it in his fist, tightly enough that white comes into view across his colorful knuckles upon the denim of his jeans. And among other things, his breath hardens. Gazes into your eyes as he says to Yoongi, “Tell her to lift her legs, lick her fingers and rub her princess parts until it feels good.” 

He’s tuned in into the role-play. You think about how you wanted to turn off your brain for him when he had told you to not think that he’d ever get sick of you. How you wanted to keep it stupid for him. 

You know that if you were to do that, if you were to let go—that he’d put you under his spell again, but you’re not letting that cave in on you. Because when Yoongi imparts the instructions to you and you lift your leg, propping your foot on Jungkook’s thigh, saliva-coated fingers finding your clit, you feel a sliver of something indescribably exhilarating. 

Jungkook moans at the first few careful circles. And it’s him who becomes hypnotized. 

It’s your green light to play the role of a stupid, innocent girl—in the hands of two very experienced, aroused men. Seduced, more like. You pat yourself on the back, mentally.  

And the proud feeling of your achievement, the feeling of his vigorous and ardent observance of your pleasured cunt, of the tendril of the profound reminiscence that sweeps in as if he truly missed the sight of her—it all incites you to speed up your movement. To consciously immerse yourself deeper in the role, in the pretending. You figure it should work like this; you won’t get submerged in the water of the hypnosis if you remain in control, clinging to it with all your might. Not if Jungkook is the one spellbound this time. 

You feel your orgasm drawing closer at that thought, breathing against your body. 

“Am I doing it right?” 

Jungkook sneaks a hand around your ankle, hard breaths puffing out of his still parted mouth, cheeks full of vibrant color, eyes dazed—so awfully dazed and fixed on your cunt, on the sheen of your arousal splattered on your folds. Then, he licks his lips, slouches further in his seat after he moves his chair to be more in line with you. Horny, curious puppy, needing to see the full view; your work of art. Yoongi’s soft chuckle rumbles against your scalp and you realize he’s been watching him this entire time, studying him—assessing the situation meticulously. 

“Is she doing it right?” Yoongi asks and you can hear the smirk coating his voice. Jungkook’s other hand, with the panties still clutched, wraps around his hard length, brows furrowing and you whine at the sight, but Yoongi tuts, disapproving. “No touching.” 

Jungkook lifts his hand and so do you—to stall your orgasm, the principle of Jungkook obeying so easily almost throwing you over the edge. You breathe heavily, a tingly sensation swarming within your skin, a certain string of words rising on your tongue. 

You turn your head towards Yoongi. Dart out your tongue to lick swiftly at his bottom lip before you kiss him. Yoongi hums, pleased. “Tell him he’s a good boy.”

Another similar sound, one that makes you smile. You drift a hand towards the back of his head, fingers sinking into the dark length of his hair. Yoongi purrs, blinking down at you like rose petals fluttering—you feel as though you were at the very beginning, living through the moment you learned Jungkook’s name, as if no pain, no murkiness never settled upon the three of you. You don’t know how it makes you feel and you hardly want to decipher it; you gravitate towards enjoying yourself more, thoughts and feelings pushed to the side. 

“He is, isn’t he?” Yoongi murmurs, taking your arm gently in his hand and joining it to your other one around the back of his head, then he roams his back, takes his time, until he plants it upon your cunt. You spasm at the long-awaited contact. “He listens well. So out of it, the poor thing forgot to speak. Maybe we should help him with that, don’t you think?” Poor thing. Your hole clenches, drooling with your dewiness and you groan, the aspect of Jungkook being degraded like this, after he dominated both of you the last time, making you utterly, utterly feral. 

At your noise, Yoongi begins to play with your slippery folds, pressing them together with his fingers flat on each side—not touching your pussy, but pleasuring her nonetheless. You give him more at each squeeze he bestows on your clit, elated that he’s touching her after such a long time, elated that he’s able to. 

It is, undeniably, working like this. Your heart thrums with elation. Happy it has come to this, happy it’s different this time—happy that both parties are happy. 

Not wishing to lose the momentum, you gaze at Jungkook. At the light cascading dimly from his lip ring—that pink, puffy, dry mouth that you long to kiss, that you long to feel on your bundle of nerves. His eyes seem to grow in size at your attention and you’re so touched to witness something like that. You need to ride his face; you need to watch those eyes roll back. You can see his need to take charge, to tell both of you what to do by his irregular breaths, clenched fists and bulging muscles, veins so prominent that you do well not staring at them at all—but he subdues that need, perhaps for you, perhaps for Yoongi. Both possibilities graze your feelings with such fondness that he’s putting himself last, prioritizing the hard truth: you’re not his, not in the sexual ambiance of your time spent together, not even in the lasciviousness of your daydreams. 

You’re Yoongi’s and he’s the boss, one he should’ve been since the beginning. And that’s the core of the difference. The key that makes this work. 

Covering your mouth, you spill your idea of how you should help Jungkook speak into Yoongi’s ear while keeping your eyes on his round ones. He aches to be let in on it, to know, but you don’t allow him that satisfaction. In fact, when you beam at Yoongi once you withdraw, it’s more of a provocation directed towards the puppy than an expression of your true joy. 

“Yes, fuck yes,” Yoongi agrees, orbs aglow by the idea, by something that you can only pin down to a feeling of safety within the environment. He feels safe. Feels comfortable. Feels okay—more than okay by the hardening length against your bum, by the moonbeams flecking across his irises, by the extension of his index finger to your clit, which makes you freeze, stop breathing altogether. “But I want to make you come first. Can I?” 

You peck him, deeply, to seal that package of positive feelings in him, to seal that sense of safety and comfort. Nod a million times. “Yes, please, baby. I need it.” 

Yoongi coos at the pet name, at your willing submissiveness to him and expression of neediness. Nudges his nose against yours. “Need what?” 

You giggle softly. Happy, so awfully happy. “I need you to make me come,” you say, but your words are muffled by the way he skims his mouth over yours, and you don’t think over the next words directed to the other male that tumble out of you. “You want to watch?” 

A stupid, stupid question because he’s been watching this entire time, although it breaks something. Breaks the invisible wall between you, Yoongi and him—breaks his coyness as he sets your foot down and leans forward, smiling fondly. “I’d be happy to watch. Honored.” 

It breaks the unspoken, unseen tension. Breaks the past. Breaks the hurt. And the difference, now validated, made beautiful by his smile, sinks in, spreads across the atmosphere surrounded by the three of you. The sense of safety and comfort now sails over into Jungkook’s pores, slipping inside. And you could burst now. Burst with your joy. 

The afternoon spent in the cabin dissolves. 

You didn’t expect that to happen. 

Yoongi feels it—and you feel him feel it by the trembling breaths he takes against your back. And even though you went into the rabbit hole with him with empty hands, now you hold healing in them. A warm round body of light, heavy and thick, ready for them both. Yoongi might have talked Jungkook’s head off and drank until his nerves eased and was able to escape them, but now he’s eligible to take the light. Jungkook is, too, now that he’s given you his consent for the dynamic to be different. A certain kind of glorious satisfaction envelops you in glow, ridding you of any intoxication and you’re bare. Vulnerable, horny and so tremendously bright. Filled with flowers, filled with love, filled with a delicious, selfish taste of control. 

You want to kiss Jungkook, but you recognize right away that there’s a time and a place for that, one that is not appropriate now. You stifle your craving, wiggle your hips to let Yoongi know you want him to begin. 

You brim with the need to forget now and just enjoy yourself, enjoy yourself at the hands of your long-awaited desire, now boundless, now right, now different. And you break the crumbles of the wall, the hurt and the past when you tell them. “I want us to forget about the last time and enjoy where we are right now. Can we do that?” 

Although you don’t know the contents of the long conversation they had in private about this, you’re glad you’ve said it out loud. Glad it’s out of your chest. Glad for the kiss Yoongi plants on your temple. Glad for Jungkook’s hand encasing yours. Even if that’s the only way they communicate their agreement. 

Out with the old, in with the new. 

And Jungkook keeps holding your hand when Yoongi begins to rub your clit. He tightens his hold, in fact, at the first twist of your features, at the relief intermingling, despite the fact he knows nothing about how this is the first time Yoongi touched you like this since forever ago. His hand feels much more different than yours, much more nimble and much quicker. And the pleasure that floods your body is more about that than it is about the stimulation. A wish pricks at you, a wish to tell him, but you don’t let it get near you, not when you know the time for that is long, long gone, not when forgetting is supposed to take place now because the new is here. 

You push those thoughts entirely away. The thoughts of there being a certain forever ago, a certain past along with it, too. 

And then Yoongi hums and the sound sweeps it far, far away from you. 

He pinches your nipple. Finds it’s not enough and forces your top open, undoing the bow, baring you to his and Jungkook’s eyes. Joins his other hand to knead both of your full breasts, but you whine, needing him elsewhere. Yoongi chuckles, listening to you—drifting his hand immediately back down to your clit, resuming his swift circles.  

Jungkook salivates. Makes no indication of being in demand of participation. Merely wipes at the corners of his mouth while his other hand squeezes yours in a tight, clammy hold. Light protrudes from his eyes, akin to the one you still own, cooling the sweat layering upon your body. No darkness of arousal, none whatsoever, only the chocolate brown of his irises, vibrant, mesmerized and absolutely affectionate. 

Newness, you breathe it in and exhale a moan. Yoongi changes direction. Moves from circles to side to side, angling your body so he can give it his all. You feel the incoming pressure of your orgasm and you ready yourself for it, squeezing your eyes shut. And when he decides to alternate, so quickly that you lose track of it, it is your ultimate undoing. 

Mainly when Yoongi curtly slaps your clit, transferring you back to the very beginning of your story, rooting you there. You come so hard that you fall apart. 

Tears fly out of you, but you laugh—and the sound is broken by a deep moan from your chest caused by pure, boundless euphoria. Yoongi prolongs your orgasm, keeps strumming your clit, purring onto your mouth and you open your eyes to witness his devotion to it, to your pleasure. Brows furrowed, eyes lidded, pouty mouth. Adamant on making you feel as good as—

It triggers another orgasm. A softer, mellow one. And the string of noises you let out are of the same dulcet nature. Yoongi swallows them, groaning, fondling your pussy, patting her gently, making you tremble, woozy, giddy and so incredibly girly. 

“That was so good,” he whispers, caressing you everywhere and you nod, a million times. You’ve missed him, terribly. 

You give him a nasty kiss full of tongue, aware of what’s happened and of what’s next just the same. 

Yoongi perches on the floor, knees on either side of yours as you crawl towards Jungkook’s lap. He leans back, a surprised grin appearing on his flustered face. And it hits him like a ton of bricks when you pop his button open and drag down the zipper of his jeans. Your words that follow, too. 

“Off. Everything.” 

“You want to suck me off?” A calm bewilderment coats his voice, such a heavy oxymoron for him to bear when he was fine with just watching. 

You smile at him briefly before you wet your lips, eager to make happen what he can’t believe you’re willing to do for him. “I knew it would get you talking.” 

An airy laugh. So endearing to your hearing sense. He cradles your chin for a mere beat of time. “You’re so smart.” He takes off his tank, revealing his enormous pecs adorned with a long but dainty silver chain that you crave to have swinging in your face, that steals your attention from the dose of validation he gave you. 

But when Yoongi leaves, your heart sinks in panic. 

Only to hoist it back up when you realize he went to fetch the gift he bought you, along with a bigger tube of lube from your bedroom. Your body tremors and it’s both of the males that try to alleviate it. Yoongi, who settles back behind you, fondling the skin of your bare bum. Jungkook, who turns you to look at him, nodding once to let you know everything’s okay. 

You release a breath, but you can’t hide the shakes. 

Jungkook strokes your brow. A tender touch that drives you to believe him. Yes, everything’s okay. The past is gone. Healing is contained in the conscious reminders. The light in your hands flutters, calling out to you, and you press it over that heft of your wandering heart. 

It’s you who alleviates the tremors. 

And when you take off your top, Jungkook follows suit, ridding himself of his jeans.

To distract your mind from hurling false thoughts at you, you finally allow yourself to look at his hard length—still, disappointingly clothed. Thick. You can almost feel the memory of him, the heaviness of him, when he had you pressed against him by the pond. The first time you touched him. You groan, softly. “Off.” 

Jungkook coos, patting you on the cheek with his finger. “So eager.” 

He paints a smile on your face with that brush of his digit. “Be a good boy and listen.” 

Without taking his eyes off of you, he swears. Pulls his manhood out, tugs his boxers a few inches down and you bite back a gasp, a moan and something in between. Red, swollen tip, the petal of a sun-kissed rose, little thick veins enveloping the girth. He keeps his balls covered to tease you. “Like this, Mommy?” 

You glare at him and it’s Yoongi’s second-hand embarrassment laughter that smooths out your features, contagious to such a great extent that when you look back at him to see him pinching the bridge of his nose with his eyes squeezed and crinkly, you burst into the same laughter, lungs expanding, exhaling all that heft and momentary residue of panic until there’s nothing negative left. 

It even radiates Jungkook. He laughs so much that his cock bounces, which deepens your giggles and you hide your face in your hands. 

And when the conveyance of joy simmers, another tender tears rush out of your tear ducts. Good tears. You’re so content with life shared with the two males that you can’t help but be emotional. You shield those tears behind the premise of your laughter. They’re private—just yours. The final conclusion of the dark side. 

Yoongi skims his fingers across your tiny hole. Back to business. 

You tug Jungkook’s boxers all the way down and you lift his ankle to rid him completely of them. Mimic the way he did it to you. You even think about keeping them. Think about how this is exactly how it should be—recollecting only the good parts of the story, the light side while letting the dark one go. Jungkook sees it on your face and he lets you decide. 

You don’t have to think twice. 

You fling his underwear on the chair you sat on. Jungkook caresses your hair in response and you smile at him. Yoongi leans over you, fists your hair and pushes you toward Jungkook’s cock. At the sight, the puppy swears. 

“Spit on it. Make it nice and wet for him,” Yoongi orders and there’s slyness to your ever persisting smile when you gather your saliva and do exactly as he says. 

At the first contact of your liquid love, Jungkook swears again and there’s no stopping to that litany of vulgar words when you, just like him, swirl it around the top of his head with the tip of your tongue without taking your gaze off of him. It’s at this movement of yours that a flashback gleams across his still round, tender eyes for a split second. Now he remembers, now you’ve pulled him back to the place you didn’t even realize that you did. 

Yoongi guides you to wrap your mouth around him and Jungkook loses it. 

The suction of your cheeks, the eye contact, the warmth of your mouth and the wetness of your tongue, Jungkook rolls his eyes back before he whisks them back to you, not able to miss one moment of the pleasure you give him. Yoongi pushes your head back and forth and when it dawns upon you that there’s nothing else for you to do but to keep your mouth open while Yoongi does all the work, you moan. And like Jungkook, you can’t stop. 

You feel Yoongi’s lips at your ear. “You think you can take him all the way?” 

The mewl that comes out of you is the only agreement you can manage to give him. Yoongi groans, kissing your earlobe before he licks it, nibbles on it, taking his mouth to the skin beneath, causing your eyes to narrow. Your pussy drenches, throbs and your hand automatically flies to her. You rub yourself slowly to gain a hint of relief, bobbing your head up and down, tongue feeling up the thick veins along his girth and you whine so desperately—enough for Yoongi to check what was the cause of it. 

He draws back. Finds you touching yourself. Clicks his tongue and chuckles in absolute appreciation. He likes what he sees. Pushes your head until your nose swipes past Jungkook’s minimal pubic hair and only when you gag does he let you breathe—does he let you play with his tip on your own. “Mommy is playing with her needy cunt.” 

The curse word that wafts in the air is singular, coming out of your and Jungkook’s mouth simultaneously. There’s no laughter this time. Just thick arousal spreading across the room, dizzying all of your senses. Jungkook is breathless and the look you share is desperate, unspoken but so, so vivid. You take him in your free hand and jerk him off, reveling in the feeling of his veins. You give him all of your whiny moans, straightening up, your fingers sneaking to your hole. Eyes narrowing, mouth open, the sounds of your slick saliva in your tight grasp so obscene, so stimulating that when you begin to finger yourself and Yoongi latches his lips onto your neck, you know you’ll be coming in mere, pathetic minutes. 

Jungkook leans forward a little bit to watch you stuffing yourself full. Bites his lip, closes his eyes when you tighten your grip around his head. And you do it again and again to coax his moans and he willingly supplies you with them. Opens his eyes and the look he gives you stops time. “So good. So fucking good.” 

You yearn to kiss him and he does, too. You twist your wrist and he loses himself for a moment. That alone speeds up the coming of your orgasm. Your body flares with heat, your fingers picking up their speed instinctually and Jungkook angles his head to kiss you—

You push him back. To tease him, to make him more desperate because it pleases you and Jungkook smirks at you, gripping your panties in his fist. Hiding your own, you lick him all over and get to the undiscovered part you want the most. 

You mouth his full balls. Whimper against them. Hot flashes fill your sight at the scent of him, even more so when Jungkook inhales your sounds and emits the same ones. “Fuck, sweetheart, oh fuck, yes, like that.” Takes your hand and busies it, wrapping it around his length. You spasm at the pet name, at the warmth that seeps into your skin from him.  

It’s him who guides you now. Yoongi merely watches, in awe, wet fingers rubbing circles on your tiny hole, preparing you. “That’s it, honey, make him come.” 

You’re so overwhelmed by your task that you withdraw your fingers from your heat, though Yoongi is quick to replace his. And the speed he establishes, you mimic it on Jungkook’s length and he grunts at the contact of your dewiness on him. You twists your wrists, fucking yourself back on Yoongi’s fingers. Bore your gaze into Jungkook’s. Hard, hard breaths, quickening lifts of his chest, he struggles to reciprocate your eye contact, the rhythm so beautiful so seamless, working so well. 

And when you wrap your lips around him and suck him with fast bobs, he comes. 

You open your mouth, yearning to feel him paint your face. Quick to grip his balls to feel them emptying out for you and you milk his cum out of him, jerking him off until his ropes smear on the corners of your lips, hot and thick. Yoongi pulls out his fingers, latches them onto your hip. “Stick out your tongue.” 

You do as he says, in time to catch the last rope landing onto the muscle. You hum, swallowing, watching the tension screwing his features and the relief unweaving it as his orgasm reaches the end. Winded, dumbfounded, gruntled. A lovely sight to behold. 

Jungkook’s grip loosens on your panties. And with his other hand, he feeds you his cum. Swipes his fingers from your cheek onto your mouth, plunging it inside. Yoongi kisses the side of your face, gripping your neck to hold your head steady for Jungkook, allowing him to finish the job. 

You swallow everything, the taste of him suffused with mild earthiness, with tanginess and the tiniest hint of sweetness. Liquid candy, just for you. You allow him to see how much you enjoyed that, but it’s Yoongi first to whom you show that you’ve swallowed everything. 

Your boyfriend beams at you. “Well done, honey.” He kisses you hard, licking into your mouth, and the thought of him tasting the residue of Jungkook numbs your senses entirely. “You did so well.” 

You’re panting when he withdraws and when you look at Jungkook, there’s a moment of stillness when you take in the thundering turmoil rushing inside him. You don’t have to guess what’s behind it. Jungkook voices it. “Let me kiss her, please.” 

Such a soft murmur, charged with so much desperation. You break at the sound of it, gripping his hand, furrowing your brows, ready to give him anything he wants, boundlessly. Your heart thuds and it only takes one look at Yoongi and he folds, too. 

Nods. 

You thought he’d kiss you from the position you’re in, but Jungkook stands to his feet, grabbing you along with him, picking you up like a child by sliding his hands under your armpits. And when he presses you against him and kisses you hungrily with fast pecks, breathing hard, you discern how illogical it was for him to call you Mommy. 

Even though he can listen like a good boy, it’s merely a role, one he plays for you, for Yoongi, one that fragments with each kiss. Who he truly is the reversal of it. 

He’s Daddy. Undeniably. 

You’ve never been keen for titles. You and Yoongi never used them, never felt the need for it, hence why you both laughed when it came up. But the more you kiss him, the more you sense it. The awakening dominance, the tendril of fatherliness that spirals around you, the deserved respect he emanates. It turns you on to the point that you find yourself wondering what else is there beneath the shadows of your undiscovered sexuality. 

The feeling of his warm skin against yours, his still hard manhood against your stomach, the provocation of the lip ring, the softness of his mouth slowing down and prolonging the kiss—fuck. How much more can you possibly get aroused? He empties out your brain, but you’re calm, not panicked by it at all. And to stay conscious, to stay in control, you wrap your hand around him again. 

He hisses, breaking the kiss, grasping your hand. “Too sensitive. Sorry. I came so hard.” 

You coo, pecking him deeply, squeezing his broad shoulders. “It’s okay.” 

When you turn around to give your attention to Yoongi, you find him deep in thought, fixed on Jungkook. “Remember how she came when you kissed her? At the cabin?” 

Your heart speeds up. Not due to fear or anything of the sort, but due to excitement. You know where he’s heading with this. 

“Hard to forget,” Jungkook murmurs and it thrums beneath your skin, spreading wide. 

“She came multiple times when I made her think about that,” Yoongi starts and you can’t halt the smile growing on your lips. A tiny whirl of shyness mingles with the words coursing through your bloodstream. “It’s what we did. I made her imagine that you were kissing her, eating her out while she touched herself. And now I want you to give it to her. Give it to her good. Better than she was able to imagine.” 

Sharp inhale of breath. You want to see his reaction to your secret—but then hands. Clammy hands on your hips, nose nuzzling in your hair. “Who’s gonna be in control when I do that?” 

Your eyes widen, pulse quickening to the point that it troubles you. 

And Yoongi looks at you when he answers his question, “You. It’s me who’s gonna watch now.” 

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

BACK to masterlist / READ part one, READ part two 

[sprite-writes-fanfic]

Hi, I'm appearing again, if it doesn't bother you I would like to make a request to Leona (you can already see the favoritism) And Jamil, in which the reader, despite having several suitors and admirers, chose them as her boyfriend, please (my boys need to receive love)

Hello, welcome back :} I can do that!

Word Count: 1301

CW: Reader is AFAB but pronouns aren’t really used, as always you are referred to as ‘you’. No warnings, just fluff! :)

Being the only female in an-all boys school, you could say it was rough. Not only did boys pick on you to make you out as ‘weak’, but there were some with a weird hero complex, and some who just wanted you for romantic reasons or worse… You didn’t wanna think about it, but Grim?

Grim could make a profit off of this.

Oh the smart and powerful Grim… He was selling your stuff behind your back such as; old pencils you couldn’t use anymore, old clothes you had thrown out, even your tissues! Who was that obsessed with you to buy it?! You’d be a little surprised. While he was at it, he was also trying to find you a rich boyfriend! When you found out, he’d make up excuses of, “Well we have money now for clothes and food! Aren’t I smart?!” He slept on the couch that night.

Well, remember how I mentioned he was trying to find you a rich boyfriend? Well… The next morning there was a bunch of suitors in front of the Ramshackle, and you nearly wanted to strangle Grim when you realized he was trying to put you through some damn speed-dates!

While Grim was yapping on and on to the ‘contestants’, you managed to slip away out the back window, hurrying off to escape the madness.

So much for a relaxing weekend.

Now you found yourself sitting in the school library, at least you’d find some peace there. As you sat there, a familiar voice would come from behind you…

[Leona Kingscholar]

“Oi, Herbivore.” The familiar gruff voice from Leona came up from behind you, the lazy lion leaning against you a moment, making you look back at him, “Hey Leona, I thought you’d be in your dorm.” You greet with a small smile, making him sigh.

“Ruggie basically chased me out. He wanted me to attend that damned dorm-leader meeting… Such a pain in the ass.” He’d growl, before peering at you, once resting his head on your shoulder, “What about you? You obviously seem to be here for a reason.”

“Grim.” You sigh, “That damned cat, I love him but sometimes he drives me up the damn wall! He’s been selling old stuff of mine to some secret admirers and then he was gonna put me up to speed-dating and bring ‘contestants’ to our dorm.” You rub your temples, “The moment I saw one on our front porch I nearly had a heart-attack. But… Well I’ll leave Grim to deal with them.”

You look over to see Leona’s gaze boring into your’s catching you off guard, he was really listening? You’d think he’d doze off by now… But I guess not. And the way he attentively stared at you, you could help but blush. “Hm…” he hums, thinking, “I have a solution.”

You gave him a look, wanting him to elaborate further, to which he only really leaned closer and nuzzled into you, rubbing his scent onto you. “Leona— What’re you doing?” You ask, face growing red, “Claiming you, no one will come near you if you're already claimed, right?” He asks, glancing up at you. “Leona…?” You furrowed your eyebrows, making him groan in a bit of frustration, “All I’m saying is if you were my mate, then nobody else would try to claim you.” He averted his gaze quickly, his own face slowly growing a bit red.

“Is this your way of asking me out?” You ask, now slightly teasing him. He gave a short glare, “So what if I am?” He grumbled, making you let out a soft chuckle, “Just ask normally.” You reach up and scratch behind his ear, making him melt against you. “But… It’s a yes from me.” You lean up and press your lips against his warm cheek, making a small purr noise come out of him. You giggled softly and couldn’t help but feel all warm inside.

Guess there was something to come out of this weekend, and you didn’t expect it to be a boyfriend.

[Jamil Viper]

“Prefect?” Jamil seemed slightly surprised to see you, “Jamil?” You returned the same confusion and sat up. “What’re you doing here?” He asked now, making you shoot back, “Could ask you the same thing.” You gave him a playful smile, making him roll his eyes at you.

“Well it’s rather simple, to help Kalim pass his next test, I’ve taken the liberty, as always, to help him pass.” He explained, and to be honest, you weren’t surprised, Jamil’s life really does revolve around Kalim after all. “I see.” You say, “I’m just here to escape my damn cat and his stupid plans.” You sigh.

Jamil’s curiosity was spiked and he couldn’t help but ask, “And what was his plan?” You let out a groan and rubbed your temples, “To get me a rich boyfriend so living would be easier, but I have to focus on studying, and plus, I don’t want my love life to be picked out for me.” You vented out your frustrations and sighed. Jamil was silent for a moment, this was his chance to spend more time with you of course…

“You and Kalim have the same class right? History class? You have an upcoming test… Why don’t you come with me and I can help you both study for it?” He offers, and honestly, you were a little surprised he’d offer. Oh well, you did need to study, a little studying never hurt anybody, “Sure.” You stand, “Let’s go study.”

…

A long study session that almost felt torturous, Jamil was a harsh teacher, and he wouldn’t give up on you until you knew the answer. Man, you didn’t expect it at all, but hey, at least you and Kalim felt a little smarter. During a small break in studying, you and Kalim got into talking while Jamil went to grab you guys some snacks.

You were talking to Kalim about the whole Grim finding you a ‘suitor’ situation and Kalim seemed to light up, “Oh! Well you and Jamil like each other, why not date him and tell Grim you already found someone!” You paused, and so did Jamil who was just walking in, both of your faces growing red. “Kalim.” Jamil said sternly, the grip on the tray of snacks and tea growing tighter.

Watching his reaction and quick to not really think about it, as you didn’t want to see Kalim get yelled at, you were quick to say, “Yeah— Maybe we should.”

Silence. Pure silence.

Jamil’s flustered face stared at you for a moment, before Kalim was quick to laugh and stand up, “I’ll leave you two to it!” He says all giddy, dancing his way out of the room, leaving you and Jamil alone.

It took a moment, but finally one of you said something, “So… Is it true?” You ask, “Do you like me too?” Jamil sighs, “Yes, I do.” He says finally, setting down the tray and sitting beside you, “I just… Couldn’t find it in myself to tell you because I am aware that my job with Kalim doesn’t leave me a lot of time to myself.” He says softly, “And I feel like you deserve someone who can give you that time…”

You smile and shake your head, placing your hand on his, “Jamil, you’d know we could always make time for each other, right?” He looked a little unsure and so you’d reassure him, “I know Kalim wouldn’t mind if you took some time off from time to time so we can spend some time together.” You smiled, leaning in, “So how about it? Can we give it a try?”

Jamil was silent for a moment before he leaned his forehead against yours, smiling fondly, “Yeah… I’d like that.”

…

Waaah, sorry guys, Leona’s was a bit shorter, I couldn’t find a whole lot of inspiration with his, but I still feel like becoming a couple would be pretty laidback with him anyways. Also the cute idea of Kalim blurting everything out was too silly to pass up. Hope you enjoyed! Cya next time!

[mint-yooxgi]

Promises - Yandere!Kraken!Felix

Yandere AU & Kraken AU - First Person POV

Genre: Mature, Smutty Themes, Internal Monologue

Pairing: Felix X Implied Chubby!Fem!Reader

Words: 1,958

Warnings: Implied violence and shipwreck, kidnapping, Felix is a type of Sea God in this, mentions of past sexual relations. Tentacles. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: Did I base the start of this drabble on the ending scene in Dead Man's Chest? Perhaps. Is this a bit tamer than the others. Maybe. Either way, I still hope you like it! I've been slowly easing myself back into writing, so I'm happy with what I've been able to do. Plus, I just fucking love the banner I made for this hehehe... Anyways, Feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!~

The Thirteenth of The Feral Drabbles

They thought they could keep you away from me.

They really thought they could keep you away from me.

It’s laughable. I thought it was a known rule for sailors not to anger the sea, but alas. Here we are.

The frantic screams and shouts don’t deter me for one second. I know what I came here for, and I’m not leaving without you. You’re mine. I warned them what the consequences would be, yet still they refused to give you to me. Even after we promised ourselves to each other! Can you believe that?

Oh, that sounds so harsh. It’s not like you didn’t also choose me. It’s these… these… things keeping us apart. They don’t understand our love. Think I’m corrupting you, or something.

Such bullshit. The only thing I’m corrupting is their ability to live.

They hid you on the third level, thinking you’d be safe within the deepest confines of the ship. Little do they know it’s the worst place you could be. It’s like they want you to get hurt, like they want me to kill you. Such things I would never do. 

Still, despite my anger as I tear this floating piece of wood apart, I’m careful. Your safety is my top priority, and I’ve already ensured that. Right now, you rest, cocooned inside a few of my tentacles. Magic surrounds you, ensuring none of their attacks have any effect on me or you. Like hell I’ll allow them to disturb you now. Besides, you passed out shortly after my assault started on the ship, but you don’t have to worry. I’ve got you.

I can still remember when we first met, how you told me you didn’t fare well with sea travel. Yet another offence they’ve made against you. I’ll never forgive them for their transgressions. Sinners need to pay, and I am here to pass my divine judgement on those that would call themselves ‘heroes’.

Do not fear, My Beloved. Once I finish smashing apart this pathetic excuse of driftwood, I’ll take you home. 

Where you’ve always belonged. 

With me.

These planks are so brittle, it’s almost laughable. Your captor’s pathetic attempts to defend themselves are cute, in a way. If not for the fact that every time I start to pull you out of the wreckage, more of them show up to try and hinder me. I don’t know why they’re so obsessed with protecting you now when they’ve never done so before.

I’m the one who always saves you. I’m the one who ensures you no harm. Not them.

No matter. They haven’t seen everything that I can do. My capabilities far surpass what their puny, closed off minds can comprehend. I’ve got magic beyond the darkest depths of the ocean, strength greater than the harshest of tides. There is no being, save myself, that could keep me away from you.

I don’t even know why they try.

Finally, I’m able to pull you out of that godforsaken wreckage and unleash my full wrath upon these wretches. The boat snaps like a twig as I pull the debris and all remaining survivors below the surface. 

None will survive. They don’t get to. I won’t let them.

Honestly, it’s kind of fun tearing stuff apart. I’ve always enjoyed making a mess of things. I only wish you could be awake to see just how strong your lover can be. After all, I’m doing this for you. I warned them about what would happen should they lay their filthy, traitorous hands all over you. I’m simply staying true to my word!

You know firsthand that I’m a very truthful guy. I would never lie to you, My Pearl. I would rather be slow roasted over an open fire than even think to deceive you.

Aren’t I so loyal?

Oh. Right. You aren’t awake to hear my teasing. Teasing which you seem quite fond of whenever I’m with you.

I think you just like hearing my voice…

That’s okay, Beloved. I will speak for as long as you desire me to. Besides, the feeling is quite mutual.

Gods- I can’t wait to see your face when you wake up in our home, and I get to tell you everything that I’ve done for you. Finally, we can be together, free of oppressive opinions and suppressive stares. Where I’m taking you, we can be ourselves, and the magic of my ocean will keep you safe. Eventually, when you’re ready, you’ll even become like me, too. 

Won’t that be incredible? Just thinking about it makes my whole body tingle.

Or maybe that’s just the change in depth.

I promise my home isn’t too much further out, and it’s in a safe area. You’ll be able to live here with me free of any restraints. I’ll be your comfort. I’ll be your guide. I will provide for you everything you will ever need. 

There is nothing stopping our love now.

I’ll even make sure that no sliver of the wreckage I just caused gets to you. The currents listen to me. They’re my friends, and soon they will be yours, too.

Either way, I’m glad that’s over, because now I can focus on you! I know that you’d be celebrating with me if you were awake, but for now, I’ll simply revel in this sweet victory alone. Having you safe in my arms is enough reward, and when you wake, the true celebration will begin.

Hmm, I wonder what we should do first? Should I take you to the reefs so you can see all of the colourful coral that I’ve grown just for you? Should I present you to the schools of fish that always seek refuge around my house? Get them to revel in your beauty? Or maybe I’ll worship you in the den of our own personal sanctuary, where nothing - no one - will be able to interrupt.

My Beauty.

My Beautiful, Beloved Pearl.

I’ll admit, there’s a certain ring to those names that I enjoy. It calls to me like the cavernous songs of the sirens. An enchantment I can never seem to escape: you.

Not that I want to. 

No. Never. Not since the very first time I laid eyes on you.

You’re addictive, you know that? One glance caught my attention. One melodic note of a spoken word, and I was hooked. Your eyes are deeper than the darkest sea, and I could swim in them forever. You hold me, transfixed, with your gaze whenever you look at me, and I never want it to stop.

Honestly, I can never grow tired of you looking at me. I want you to look at me, and only me. I want to be the first thing you see in the morning when you blink those glorious eyes open, and the last thing you see when you go to sleep at night. I want to wrap you in my arms and hold you close, whispering the sweetest words of all the worlds in your ears, and hear you do the same for me in return.

There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you, Beloved, and I will never hesitate to prove that to you. With me, you will never have to settle for less than what you deserve, for I will always give you every single thing your heart could ever desire.

Fuck- I can still remember the way your body trembled from the very first touch. The more I trailed my arms over your body, letting the tips of my tendrils caress your skin, the more your whole being warmed. You fit so perfectly in my hold, that I long to always touch you - to always be near you, and obey your every whim.

I am but your loyal servant, sent to worship the very depths of your soul. Your entire being calls to me, and I could bathe in your warmth for all eternity. Right now, it’s that warmth that I crave more than anything. That glorious nectar that seeps from between your legs beckons to me. One taste isn’t enough. I need to feel you flooding my every sense once more.

Sweet.

Addictive.

I could spend ages defining it, but nothing could ever truly put into words just how ethereal you are to me.

People always thought my existence was mere myth itself. Rumours and legends only meant to scare those away from pursuing adventure on the high seas. Nothing more than a fable to tell their children at night to ensure they don’t go off swimming in the bay alone.

They have always been, and will always be, wrong.

I’m as real at the tide, as sure as the sand that resides against the ocean floor. There is nothing in these waters as deadly as I am, and all those that oppose us will face my wrath.

Well, where we’re going, we won’t have to worry about being disturbed at all. Plenty of room for the both of us. Plenty of privacy. No one dares disturb that which should be left undisturbed. At least, those smart enough to.

That is, of course, unless I use my magic to let those sirens get a taste of their own medicine. Water echoes even the smallest of sounds, and yours should be heard for miles around. I can still hear your glorious voice calling out my name as you bathed me in your own sacred waters, and I want all to know that you are mine, and I am yours. For all eternity. 

I’ll admit… I’m addicted to you, and I can never get enough. Though, from the way I remember your hands clinging to me that night only days ago, I don’t think you can get enough, either.

Good thing we have forever to spend fully satisfying each other!

Ah… looks like we’re finally getting close to home. I can see the familiar drop off up ahead. Don’t worry, Beloved, there’ll be plenty of air for you to breathe inside. I won’t always have to keep you covered in a veil of magic. Though, I would always like to have an arm around you. Feeling your skin pressed against my own is a sensation unlike any other, and I long to never let you go.

Perhaps I should tidy up a little more before you wake. I always have way too much energy after destroying a ship. Something about adrenaline and all that.

Perhaps when you wake up you could even help me with it… You might be a bit tired and disoriented when you wake, but my magic can help with your exhaustion. You seemed to like that that last time I used it on you.

How else could we have gone as many rounds as we did?

Oh, you flatter me by pulling yourself in closer to me subconsciously when I shift into such a basic form. It easier to move around like a human within my home when it’s drained like this, and besides, I haven’t exactly shown you my entire true form yet. The last thing I want to do is scare you as soon as you wake up. You’ve already suffered the trauma of being stolen away from me today. I don’t want to make things worse.

There. All you need to do is rest now. 

In my arms? Well, who am I to pull away from My Pearl when you’re clinging onto me so tightly in your sleep? 

I truly can never say no to you…

Just rest, Beloved. This creature shall keep you safe, tucked away deeply in his heart for all eternity. Once you open those glorious eyes of yours, our own adventure will start.

Just you and me, forever. 

I promise.

[msfbgraves]

Thinking about Abraham van Helsing and his refusal to even discuss vampirism until people have drawn their own irrefutable conclusion and going, oh, this poor sweet kaaskop (cheesehead, that's what we Dutchmen call ourselves).

You see, Dutchmen, and Hollanders in particular, are almost aggressively opposed to the idea of the supernatural. We're factual and neutral to a fault. The most well known horror story about the Dutch - The Flying Dutchman - was written by the English. We don't do fancy ourselves. Our horrors are aggressively real and mundane (it's flooding. We are obsessed with flood prevention. Scared out of our mind by drowning and storms). Our horrors are tangible and real and out in the open. Dying in a flood. Dying in a coal mine (a more Victorian fear). Dying in a flooding coal mine, to combine the two. Dying at sea. Dying in traffic.

But you can fight the sea. And we do fight the sea. With engineering. Technology. We look at stuff in detail and deal with what is right in front of us (the sea, the universe), and only that. We're bad poets and good scientists, we're great figurative painters. We are, as everyone knows, aggressively literal and straightforward.

Indeed Bram, that sweet man, has a very literal approach to vampire fighting. Lucy is being fed on? Blood transfusion. Aenemia is aenemia. Also, autopsies are autopsies, no matter why they are performed. Medicinal flowers are medicinal flowers, prevention is prevention no matter the circumstances.

He has been conditioned to think that everyone will violently reject anything supernatural that isn't in the Bible and even then. Because that is a what a Dutchman, a Hollander especially, would likely do. "The ordinary is crazy enough", is a close approximation of one of our most well known sayings.

And now imagine Bram van Helsing coming across vampirism somewhere prior to the story. He will have rejected it at first. Maybe he rejected it too long until he either had to choose between the truth of his own perception or the fact that he was insane. He will have self-diagnosed any and all mental illnesses that could afflict him until deciding that he was of sound mind, and this was a vampire attack. What would have taken a citizen of Bistritz minutes to accept and act upon (nothing too far removed from their religion, most likely), would have taken Bram weeks or months of lonely agony and doubt.

And maybe by then, it was too late?

Still, even after Lucy's testimony (in writing!); the punctured neck, the blood loss, the bat, the wolf attack, the physical changes, does he not say to Jack - if it quacks like a duck and walks like a duck and acts like a duck, I am going to treat it like a duck, my friend. Instead he waits for Lucy to turn in front of Jack's eyes so he will have to believe in vampires because he saw it himself. To Van Helsing this is the only way to convince him because that is what it would take to convince an educated Dutchman. (I always joke that there are so few supernatural occurrences in The Netherlands because our outright refusal to believe in any of it kills it stone dead.)

This is dangerous, by the way - had he been alone, he wouldn't have let it get this far, I am sure of it. But there is a greater problem, a hunting vampire on the loose and he needs the help of his friends. And he doesn't dare confide in them.

How long has he been alone with this...?

Bram... 😭💔

[neoarchipelago]

And they were roommates (Part 10)

A/N : God... part 10 already! i am so so scared to post this chapter i'm torn to be in between this is good and this is trash so... be merciful!

Warnings: VIOLENCE! BLOOD! GRAPHIC !

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

The realization kept spinning in your brain. He was darkends. He had been so close to you from the beginning. Fuck he knew you before you started working on the damn mission! 

"I… Don't understand… you moved in before I started working on this…" you questioned. 

He sent you a look in the rear view mirror. 

"Correct. The mission had started before they asked you to join. I was supposed to simply make sure they were failing. Infiltrating the base, keeping undercover, ruining your search and probably send you on a wrong path." He explained. 

You watched through the car window, trying to figure out where he was taking you. 

While you started thinking about some way to escape, your mind quickly stopped on your connected watch. 

"But then I met you. Such a pretty girl." 

The praise made you nauseous. He watched the road as you started preparing your move on your watch. 

"You started working on the mission and fuck" he chuckled. "You became even more interesting!" He cheered. 

You kept clicking on your watch, sending your location to your contacts. All of them because you weren't exactly paying attention. 

While you were working on your laptop in the hideout, while you kept passing over and over the events that almost got you killed, you had decided to prepare a little safety net. You hacked your connected watch, creating a locking system that would send your live location to contacts of choice. You thanked your past self. 

"You were so bright, so smart, you managed to fully counter my attacks or find every little thing I tried to hide. Your mind… fascinated me." He kept obsessing. 

You could have been flattered if this wasn't said by a psychopath stalker trying to kidnap you. You were loosening the strap of your watch taking it off. You let it fall on the floor making sure to hide the small watch in your pocket. 

"So you decided to try to kill me ?! That makes no fucking sense Peter! If that's even your real name!" You raged. Fuck your throat right now. 

"Oh it is. It's not Hansen though. I didn't try to kill you. You were so sad when I met you… remember?" He spoke in an angrier tone. 

You were trying to figure something out, some way to escape even if you had to jump out of the car. 

"Because of that dickhead." 

"Don't call him that!" You yelled. 

"Shut up!" He roared. 

You were taken aback. It was the first time he actually yelled at you.

"That fucking asshole left you broken. And then he comes back and you let yourself be manipulated by him! You were meant to be fucking MINE." 

You felt your skin crawl. He was turning completely mad. And you were feeling the panic grow. 

"You and me…. Can you think about it? How we'd be the most powerful couple ever? We'd be Bonnie and Clyde…" 

"They fucking died…" you noted. 

"Such a smart mouth. You're lucky I also like that about you." He threatened. 

You bit your lip. Now wasn't the moment to be a smart ass. 

"So yeah. I got jealous. I thought maybe I could make you realize he wouldn't keep you safe. And then I'd propose to be your bodyguard and you know, make you fall for me… make you realize how good we'd be together." He kept explaining. 

You were finally understanding where he was headed. To one of the bases exit. He was trying to take you out of the base. 

"You won't be able to take me far. Even if you leave the base." You said. 

"Don't worry. I have friends waiting for us." He smirked. 

You swallowed hard. 

"What are you going to do with me…" that scary question was the only thing in your mind now. 

"That'll depend on you." 

The way he said it scared you horribly. It was terrifying. 

The tension was broken by your phone ringing. Price was calling you. 

"Go on birdie. Answer. Put it on speakerphone and give. It."

You obeyed, although unwillingly. 

"Sparrow, where are you?!" 

He sent a look in the rearview mirror for you to answer. 

"I'm in the car with Hansen." 

"Are you alright?! We found Soap." 

"Is he alright?!" You worried immediately. 

"He's ok. He said Hansen injected him with something." 

"What?! What the fuck did you do! You said you didn't hurt him!" You yelled, making Price aware of the listener. 

"I didn't. I simply tranquilized him. He took a nap." He laughed. 

"Hansen. What's going on?!" Laswell roared. 

"I'm simply taking what belongs to me." He spoke matter of factly. 

"What are you talking about?" 

"My birdie." 

Silence fell on the call. You knew she had understood. She knew the truth. 

"You won't be able to leave this base, I can assure you that." She said. 

"Ah don't worry. I'll manage. Where's the other disguised idiot? Hand him over. I want to speak to him." 

You closed your eyes. No. This was going to be horrible. You were absolutely shocked to hear Price laugh. You opened your eyes wide, a look of confusion on your face. 

"He's already gone. He got in his Jeep and is hunting you down." 

You saw Peter visibly pale. 

"He doesn't even know who you really are. You hurt his friend. You stole his bunny. You're already fucking dead." 

Peter grabbed the phone in a fury, opening his window and throwing it out. You gasped out loud. 

"Hey!" You scolded. 

"Don't try me!" He threatened again. 

You were getting dangerously close to the exit. You couldn't let him bring you out of base. You couldn't.  The idea of jumping out of the car finally settled in your mind when a glimpse of a vehicle to the left made your head turn. You had very little time to process what was happening when the impact made your seatbelt block. A military car had driven right into the car you were in at full speed, aiming for the driver's seat. 

Both cars were now at a stop, your head ringing. You were hyperventilating, now watching Gaz and Konig stepping out of the car and aiming their guns at Peter. He immediately made the car roar, trying to drive away when a second impact made you shake again. You yelled this time. Peter's car was stuck in between two big ones. You had to get out now, you had to make a run for it. 

Your blood ran cold when you saw Peter reach for his own gun. No nononoo.. FUCK. 

"GET THE FUCK OUT OF THE CAR!" Soap's voice roared. 

Soap… fuck. They were here. They were here. 

You pushed the seatbelt, finally freeing yourself and opening the car door. 

"DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE BITCH!" Peter Screamed. 

Konig appeared in a flash, grabbing Peter's shirt through the window, taking his attention from you. In another flash a black shadow passed over the hood of the car pushing Konig away and throwing the driver's side door open. 

"Simon!" You let out in between a yelp and a whine. 

He wasn't listening. He had a knife in his hand. He cut through the seatbelt like butter. He grabbed Peter's gun, throwing it somewhere on the ground. He very roughly pulled Peter out. 

You were frozen in place. Your mind was trying to process what was happening. Everything was happening so fast… Your car door opened, making you jump. 

"Y/N!" 

You cried. You let out a broken exhale and you cried. 

"Johnny…" 

"You're ok! You're ok! We're here!" He smiled, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you out. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck. He was ok. He was fine. God, you felt so guilty. He got hurt because of you. If he had been killed-

"I'm ok! I'm ok… breathe. We need to get you out of here!" He soothed. 

"It's darkends!" You let out loud in between cries. 

He froze. He immediately turned to the rest of the team, catching Gaz's eyes as he wasn't too far. 

"HE'S THE HACKER!" Gaz repeated in a yell.

You looked at Ghost who had Peter pinned against the car, arms behind his back. As soon as it clicked in his brain, he threw Peter to the ground and jumped on him. Your eyes widened. 

You pushed by Soap, surprising him enough to give you a chance to run around the car to keep the fighting men into view. 

"Y/N NO!" You heard him reprimand.

You froze at the sight, Ghost was on top of Peter repeatedly punching him in the face, blood coating his hand. 

Soap caught you as Ghost reached for his firearm, pointing it at Peter's head. It took a second. No hesitation.

"DON'T LOO-" 

The gunshot made you jump. Soap's voice lost in the sound. Your ears ringing. 

It's funny how your brain fixates on the little things during shocking moments. For you it was the little splashes of blood on his mask. You could see them as Simon noticed you, wide eyed. 

That's all you could take in before Soap made you forcefully turn around. 

"BLOODY HELL Y/N" he screamed worriedly.

You tried to catch your breath. More cars came rushing. You could hear Price and Laswell's voices. It was over. He was gone. Darkends… Peter. He was dead. Your were safe. You were shocked. And what terrified you wasn't the fact that Simon just executed him in front of you. He clearly didn't mean to show you such a horrible thing. You knew it. He had tried to shield you from the sight by pushing Peter to the ground. No. What terrified you was how grateful you were that he did it. That he killed him. 

The thought was horrible. But Peter was dead. And you were glad he was. Because that man, who helped human traffickers, drug dealers and other horrible people, had used people to get to you, had tried to kill you and kidnapped you. 

"Hey hey hey!" 

You blinked, finally falling back into reality. Kate was looking at you, features torn in worry. Her hands on your cheeks. You took a deep breath. 

"Are you alright?!" 

You nodded. 

"I… I'm fine. It's… over" you stumbled over your words. 

She held you, her arms now wrapping around your shoulders. Price was behind her, talking to Soap. You could clearly understand Soap explaining how you had witnessed Ghost kill Peter. The shock in Ghost's eyes flashed in your mind. No! Fuck! 

You couldn't be sure but he was probably feeling horrible having done that in front of you. He probably thought you hated him, that you thought horribly of him. 

You pushed Kate off of you. 

"Simon…" you called. 

"Y/N-" she tried.

"I want Simon!" Your voice broke as another cry escaped your lips. 

You needed him. You fucking needed him. You wanted him to hold you. And never fucking let you go. You felt vulnerable. The whole situation, the whole fallback of emotions made you want to be wrapped into his arms.

"Y/N." Price approached. "Not now. You need to leave this place." 

You were going to interrupt him. But he kept trying to reason you. 

"He needs to calm down-" 

"No!" You screamed, you've never heard this desperation in your voice before.

Soap looked divided. But as he looked at you, the way you were begging him through your gaze, he made up his mind. 

"LT!" He called. 

Price and Laswell turned to him furious. 

Your breath quickened. You weren't leaving without him. Fuck. You'd leave with him.

Price turned back to face you this time looking behind you. 

"Simon-" he started. 

But too late you had already turned around. Fucking hell. He looked absolutely nightmarish. His full black tactical clothes, his skull mask bloodied. His black hood casting a shadow on it. Even like that you could see pupils blown out. 

You must be insane. You must have gone completely mad. Because all you could see was his eyes. All you could notice was how hard he was breathing, how his shoulders were incredibly tense. 

Yes. Everyone must have thought you had gone completely insane. Because you ran to him, wrapping your arms around his waist burying your face in his chest. It took him a second before wrapping his arms around you. 

"I'm sorry… I'm so sorry… fuck… I'm sorry…" he chanted repeatedly. 

He held you tightly. You could hear Laswell and Price barking orders. But you blocked it out. You needed this. You needed to be in his arms. He saved you again. He rushed to come to you. 

"I'm sorry…" he let out again. 

"Simon" 

He stopped, looking at you directly, awaiting orders. As if your every word was a command. 

"Take me away…Please... Take me out of here…" You asked. 

He didn't hesitate. He held your hand, pulling you with him towards Price. 

"Price!" He roared, capturing the man's attention. "I'm taking her out of here!" 

He nodded, throwing him his keys. 

"Take her to the hideout!" Price ordered. 

You would have preferred to go home but your home had been trashed… it wasn't the best idea.

He held your hand as he pulled you to the passenger seat, making sure to block your view of the mess behind him. 

"Close your eyes…" he ordered softly. 

"But-"

"Please. Fuck. Bunny, please." He pleaded. 

So you did. You closed your eyes. You heard the car door open. You trusted him as led you in, sitting you and buckling you up. You kept your eyes closed as he closed the door and until his opened. Even then and until you were rolling away, you kept them closed. 

"You can open them now…" he softly let out. 

You batted your eyes, adjusting back to the light. You turned to him. His grip on the steering wheel was rough. 

"Simon…" you called. 

He flinched but didn't look at you. He was clearly speeding. Very clearly. 

"Simon!" You whined. 

"We're almost there. Please." 

You took a deep breath, Falling silent. 

"You did good…" 

You almost thought you imagined it. 

"I.. did?" You asked. 

"Yes. You did so good. Sending me your location. Being brave. You did good." 

The praise was oddly comforting. 

You had managed to arrive at the hideout in a crazy time frame. You both walked out. You were slightly calmer even if your heart still played drums in your chest. You walked to the front door, two soldiers standing in front of it. You walked in, Ghost behind you. The door closed, leaving you both finally alone to face the inevitable. 

After several seconds he spoke. 

"I'll tell the men to keep guard. Laswell should be joining you soon." 

You looked, appalled, as he turned to leave. 

"You're leaving?" 

For the second time, you didn't recognize the heartbroken tone in your own voice. He was running away. He didn't want to face you.

He looked at you immediately, worry in his eyes. 

"You… Want me to stay?" He asked in dismay. 

"Yes.. please… you're the only one I want to stay with…" you admitted. 

He looked completely lost. You wanted to make him understand how badly he mattered to you. That you found a peace in his violence that was insane. Unreal.

"I. Just executed someone, in front of you." He started, fully turning to you. "I will never fucking forgive myself for it" 

"You don't have to! I ran to you! You tried to hide it!" You knew where this was going. You could feel it. 

"You should have been taken away right away! I should have ordered Soap to do it! You didn't deserve it- " 

"I RAN TO YOU! " You cried out. Your poor throat reminding you that it was a terrible idea. 

You were both out of breath. He was slipping away from you… he was slipping through your fingers every second that passed he was pulling himself away from your embrace. He was trying to break everything, trying to save you from himself. He didn't seem to understand that you needed to drown in him.

"Don't…" you desperately asked. 

"Don't what…" he asked in a hopeless tone. 

"Don't do that to me… Simon please…" you wanted to cry. You wanted him to feel how helpless you were feeling. How much you loved him. How much you needed him. 

"Don't walk away from me…" your tear stained face begged. 

He closed his eyes. 

"I'm a fucking monster." 

"No. You're Simon!" You stepped closer to him as he opened his eyes. 

"You're lieutenant Simon Ghost Riley!!" You captured his clothed face in your hands. 

"You're my Simon ghost Riley…" you whispered. "Please… tell me you're not giving up on me… please… tell me I'm yours too…" 

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you incredibly close. 

"Are you not scared of me?" He asked in a breath. 

"No…" you answered. 

"Don't you hate me? Despise me?" 

"Never.." 

"You're fucking crazy." He concluded. 

You giggled bittersweetly. 

"You make me crazy…" 

"I am a monster." 

"Simon-" 

"I am. You should find better. You would be happier…" 

"I want my monster. I want all of him, I only feel safe and important with him…" 

He choked on a breath. 

"You wanted an answer." He started. 

You frowned a bit in confusion. 

"You wanted me to make up my mind. To tell you." He explained. 

You finally understood. Yes. You had asked him. You held your breath. 

"I want you in my life. Fuck you're all I want in my life. Tell me you want to be mine… I swear I'll never fucking leave you… I'll be as loyal as a dog, I swear I'll do everything to make you happy." He pleaded in a dark tone that contrasted heavily with the vow he was preaching. 

"Simon." You called making him look at you in the eyes. "I'm already yours." 

His hand left your waist to lift his mask up to his nose. Your breath hitched, time slowing when his lips fell on yours. You felt dizzy. His lips against yours in a desperate kiss to ground you both to each other. His soft tongue pleading access to more, that you willingly admitted, your own craving of more, of him, burning through you. The world disappeared. You had read this many times in books. You had never thought you would ever get to a point where you finally understood it. 

He groaned against you, you wrapped your hands around his neck. He lifted you up, sitting you on the table. You spread your legs, trapping him in between and pulling him closer. You were addicted. Absolutely lost. He kissed you like you were the only reason he'd ever inhale and exhale again. Desperately. His taste on your tongue was something you wanted to imprint in your mind forever.

You almost pitied the fact that you had to breathe when you separated to catch your breaths. He remained there. His forehead touching yours. You remained eyes closed. 

The atmosphere had entirely changed. It was as if you weren't being kidnapped thirty minutes ago. 

"Simon… don't leave…" you begged in a murmur. 

"Never." 

The night had fallen very quickly. Laswell had indeed passed by. She was relieved you were fine. She also fully understood that you needed time and decided to leave you two alone for a few days. The day had been terribly long. Horribly. You and Simon didn't let go of each other for hours, even dining with you sitting on his lap. Poor man hadn't even changed when it was finally time to go to bed. 

"Hey… bunny…" he called softly. 

You shook your head, knowing what he wanted to say. 

"Bunny come on… I need to change… you're gonna get dirty." 

"Don't care…" 

He chuckled. He sounded relieved. 

"Y/N, I promise .. I hop in the shower and I come to bed with you if you want. It'll take five minutes, I swear." He tried to convince you. 

You didn't want to let him go. But you understood he probably wanted to wash away all reminders of what happened. You nodded against his neck. He walked to the bed and softly dropped you. He grabbed Reaper from the ground. 

"Here doll, your plushie."

"Reaper…" you corrected him. 

He chuckled. Taking out his gloves, he let one of his thumbs run over your cheeks, brushing your hair away.

"I'll be right back." 

He was already ripping off his tactical gear as he walked out. You had time to catch a glimpse of his back, various bruises and scars, more or less recent painted it. It made you want to follow him and kiss every single one of them. Maybe it was too much… everything that was happening was confusing but fuck at the moment you couldn't care less. 

He had kept his promise, around 5 minutes after, he was back in the room, a towel around his midsection. 

Your breath caught in your throat. 

You sat in the bed. He was wearing a new balaclava. 

"Simon…" you called. 

You watched the bruises and cuts on his chest with a worried look. He stepped closer to you, grabbing your chin in one hand softly. 

"Hey. Eyes up." 

You obeyed.

"It's nothing. It's just a scratch. Alright?" 

You whined. 

"Shu-huhu…" he soothed. 

Fuck… your mind was a fucking blurr. You weren't drunk this time. But the adoration, the heart eyes were back. 

"It's nothing, little one…" 

You closed your eyes, leaning into his touch. 

"Fuck…" he cursed under his breath.

You opened them back slowly. 

"Turn around love, let me just grab some pants." 

You blushed, nodding. You turned around facing the wall. You heard him open his bag that he had brought into your room earlier. A few seconds later you felt the bed dent. You glanced back as he slipped under the covers with you. His arms immediately wrapped around you, pulling you to his chest. 

You both sighed at the same time. 

"Simon…" you called. 

"Yes bunny…" 

"Thank you for coming to save me…" you let out in a whisper.

"Darling… I will always come for you." He whispered in your ear. 

"I'm so glad it's over" 

"I'm glad too…" 

You smiled. 

"Let's sleep, little bunny… It's late." 

You whined a bit. 

"I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere. " 

You closed your eyes at that. The warmth and the comfort of his arms and body pulled you  to sleep. 

The two next days felt out of reality. Laswell didn't contact you and the rest of the squad didn't pass by. It was only the two of you. And you couldn't let go of each other. Especially Simon. You didn't fully understand what was happening. You honestly didn't care. A silent agreement stood between you two that nothing mattered. No questions on the relation, no questions on behavior, nothing. 

You just basked in each other's presence. 

That night, you tried to get up to go to the bathroom. After close negotiations he had unwrapped his arms from you. You went to the bathroom, glanced at his dirty gear on the ground, and tried to put it in the washing machine. Tried. Because he had already crawled out of bed to find you.

"What are you doing?" He asked.

"I'm just putting this in the washer for-" 

"Forget about that…" 

He picked you up bridal style. 

"S-simon…" you blushed. 

"Fuck that. Come back to bed." 

And you did. Not getting out of bed before 11 am the next day. 

You had shared brunch. He stood behind you, hands over your stomach and face in your neck while you washed the dishes in his shirt. Then he pulled you to him making you follow him on the couch where you both laid down, a blanket over you, some tv show on screen. 

When you went back to bed that night, you made the mistake of stepping inside your bedroom without him. 

"Where are you going?" He asked. 

"Oh.. hum… I thought you might want to rest without having me annoying you…" 

He had stepped closer to you, incredibly close. 

"One more night… please…" he whispered. 

"Anything…" you whispered back, gladly pulling him after you. 

It calmed down for a bit the next day. You were able to walk around the house without having Simon attached to you or running to pick you up to immobilize you against him. Though none of this bothered you, you tried to focus a bit on what happened. You also tried to buy a new phone. Even like that, he made you sit on the couch in between his legs, with your laptop on your lap. 

He was watching TV, fingertips drawing circles on your naked thighs. You had first cursed yourself for wearing PJ shorts, and then had lost all track of your search for a new device, leaning back against him. 

On the third day, things seemed to fall back into your old ways. Playful, kind, sweet. Again a silent contract linked you both, as if the two last days were yours to keep. It was a moment needed for the both of you, after a painful time. You still put off a serious conversation about your new relationship to a later time. 

The boys were finally allowed to pass by. Soap and Gaz had immediately hugged you. 

"Little Sparrow!" Soap cheered. 

You hugged them back. 

Konig was also here and even though you didn't know him well, you couldn't stop yourself from hugging him. He saved you too. 

"Thank you konig." 

He had rubbed the back of his head, giggling. 

Price had held you in his arms for a little while before planting a kiss in your hair and stepping back. 

You all sat in the small living room space. Simon was still very possessive and made you sit in his lap on the ground, hands wrapped tightly around your waist. 

"Thank you everyone. For keeping me safe and saving me. And… I'm so sorry johnny…" 

"No no! Don't worry. I've gone through much worse. I'm the one who should be apologizing. I fucked up…" 

You shook your head. 

"No… we were all under pressure… no one suspected him." 

"I did." Interrupted Simon. 

You smiled. 

"Yeah… you did…" 

You could see the boys looking at each other, obviously a question on their mind. The burning question. Soap felt the bravest.

"Soo… what's this?" Soap asked changing subject and pointing repeatedly in between the both of you. 

You blushed heavily. Soap's grin growing. 

"She's my girlfriend." 

You were? Fuck. 

"Am I?" You asked, looking at him. "You never asked" You teased. 

"I asked you to be mine. You said you were. So, mine." He stated without a worry in the world. 

The boys laughed and you nestled closer to him. You spent the rest of the day hanging out together, finally at peace. 

In the next few days you met with Laswell. A few things had to be resolved. Your room needed a makeover. You wanted darkends's devices to gather information. 

"We'll keep his devices but you can't have them now. You need some time away from all of this." 

You had rolled your eyes but deep down you agreed. This had been a close call. Way too close. She had told you she would keep you informed about the apartment so for now you remained in the hideout with Simon. The boys passing by very often. 

You had been very happily shopping, the military giving you a huge amount of money as reparation for almost being killed in their care. You had bought new components for a brand new PC, a new phone, clothes and other things. One thing that you seemed to absolutely love doing was asking Simon's opinion on everything. 

"Simon, do you like this shirt?" 

"You'll look adorable in it." He kissed your forehead. 

You even used this new hobby to tease him. 

"What do you think of this skirt?" You smiled innocently. 

It had entirely backfired. 

"If you promise to wear no panties with it, it'll become my favorite piece of clothing." He growled.

You had blushed and thrown him a pillow. 

Some moments of serious talk had also been present. 

"You know I'm doing something dangerous… it could put you in danger… Are you sure you want to be with me?" He asked. 

"Simon I don't need to date you to be in danger. I'm the one who keeps getting attacked and almost killed, you're the one who should be having second thoughts!" 

The Best moments were the ones where He would steal kisses from you whenever he could. He'd stare at you from afar, making blush. He'd always stare into your eyes, asking for permission to kiss you. As if you needed to ever say it out loud to him.  Sometimes it would heat up very fast, but he would always stop. Much to both of your frustrations. 

But you did have this conversation. He had wanted to, and asked to take things slowly. He wanted you to be sure of things before heading to more. 

You had wanted to go spend some money at the shopping center, asking him to come with you. He had politely declined, offering to call Soap, Konig and Gaz to go with you. Shopping wasn't particularly his favorite thing to do. He sat on the couch, legs spread, a file in hand, looking down at you. The sight was particularly comical yet extremely exciting. You had dropped to your knees in between his to get his attention, he had immediately tensed. He looked at you like he wanted to devour you. You kept asking for him to come with you, he'd decline, his voice deepening more and more each time. 

"Y/N. Get up." He ordered. 

"Please… Simon come with me shopping…" you whined again, biting your lip. 

It was obvious. So obvious. But he played through, adoring the sight before him. 

It had been interrupted by Price and Soap walking in. You remained on the floor, now turning your head to Soap. 

"Soap! Ghost won't come with me…" 

"Try taking his pants off, it's easier to cu-" 

You had blushed heavily. Price tried his best not to laugh. You had never seen a man run so fast in his life. You had gotten up, after ghost had gotten up as well , walking out the door behind Soap. Price had finally laughed, you were heavily embarrassed but you had won, thanks to Soap. 

Today Simon was particularly quiet. He walked around, stealing kisses and touches every now and then. You were writing on your laptop, some things about darkends needed to be reported for the full file. Laswell had told you it wasn't urgent, but you wanted to finish it. You were also getting annoyed. The tiny place was starting to get on your nerves. You wanted to go back home. 

It was an antagonizing thought as you also were uncomfortable going back in that space. It felt different. Peter had been there. You had opened your door to him and he had broken in and trashed your stuff. You had talked about it with Simon, about your anxiousness. He had understood and tried to comfort you. 

So here you were, sitting in the small, now crowded space with everyone. Laswell, price and squad 141 including Konig. 

"Sparrow, ghost told me about your thoughts on your apartment." 

You sighed. Of course he did. You looked at him as he looked at you with a soft expression. 

"So we came up with something and I'd like to ask you if you'd be alright with it." 

You were now visibly curious. Price took the lead after Laswell. 

"Until we can find a new and better way to keep you safe, we thought about moving you closer to the base. Some place you'd feel safer." 

"What are you saying?" You asked. 

"There's a house in a residential area, very close to the base that's free. It's a family house so it's quite big." Laswell explained. 

"And we're all moving in with you guys!" Soap cheered, interrupting her, Gaz nodding. 

"It's temporary, it doesn't have to be permanent. It's an option, after everything that happened." Price added.

You looked at Ghost with a smile on your face, brows rising. 

"You accepted this?" You asked, a hint of a laugh in your voice. 

"It's safer if we're all there. I can't always be with you… and maybe you'll feel better in a new environment." He explained. 

You had mixed feelings. It sounded fun. But you'd have less privacy with Simon. You had started to accept them as a family. And after everything that happened it was perhaps best. 

"Alright… let's do that." 

[tina-mairin-goldstein]

Hannibal Dash Simulator Season 2

🔍iwishididn'thaveatwin reblogged

🐈‍⬛team-sassy-science

Me and @ autopsyguy going to get some drinks after work.

@ teamsassyscience Why wasn't I invited? And who took that picture?

13 notes

#friends #who i will forgive for not inviting me drinking this one time

🌸flowers-in-bloom reblogged

I know this is a stretch, but has anyone seen my dog? He keeps running away and I haven't gotten the chance to microchip him because of this. If you see him, he answers to Winston, and my address is on his collar (he's the one on the upper left, this is the only picture I have).

🌸flowers-in-bloom

Never mind. I found him. Thank you to everyone who tried to help. He is now microchipped.

🌸flowers-in-bloom

Winston ran away again. The microchip is not 100% accurate, so please, if you see him, let me know. I'm afraid he might get hit by a car or attacked by a wild animal.

821 notes

#dogs #dog #missing dog

🔍iwishididn'thaveatwin

Okay, something happened at work, and I am currently OBSESSED. Just have to share this with you guys. This article is the best. I set up the link, so just click the picture.

174 notes

#bees #apiary #honey production

🔥Sponsored

_________Verger Meat Packaging

Fresh, high-quality meat. Perfect for any occasion. Pork, beef, and chicken from a variety of breeds, available for all budgets. Professionally raised on one of the oldest farms in the state.

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0 notes

🍷are-we-not-made-in-his-image

Petition to save local songbird habit from complete destruction

Local Baltimore City Council Sheldon Isley brokered a deal several years ago to turn the habit of endangered songbirds into a parking lot. Recently, there have been discussions going on further developing what little remains of these birds' home. More information and links below the cut.

_______________________Keep Reading

7,843 notes

#birds #petition #songbirds #wildlife #baltimore

🐎animal-lover12233

4 notes

🦅lonesome-hawk reblogged lonesome-hawk

Just LOOK at him.

🦅lonesome-hawk

Yes, I know he's on trial for murder. But if you had been following the trial like I have, you would know he's being framed. Now shut up and leave me alone. I'm disabling comments.

843 notes

🌸flowers-in-bloom

😶‍🌫️Anonymous asked:

Aren't those @ dogsandflyfishing's dogs?

Yes, they are. I am taking care of them for him while he is unable to.

2 notes

#ask answered

📸tattlecrime-official

Coming soon!

The REAL story of Will Graham and how his peculiar mind works, and how he was tragically framed to be the infamous Chesapeake Ripper.

Click on the links below to subscribe to TattleCrime.com for official updates and exclusive snippets.

-------------------------------Keep Reading

365 notes

#tattlecrime #official story #will graham

🐻prehistoric-predator

I'm partial to the Cave Bear myself, but a Dire Wolf is also a good choice. Before you vote, I've got some studies and info in the link below and some general information so you can make informed decision.

I'm curious to see what you guys think; I'm having to make a really tough decision right now.

Reblog for larger sample size

_______________________Keep Reading

69 notes

#cave bear #dire wolf #poll #polls #my poll

🐕dogsandflyfishing reblogged

🍷are-we-not-made-in-his-image

Lomo Saltado

Recipe below cut.

_______________________Keep Reading

37 notes

#recipe #cooking #lomo saltado

🐕dogsandflyingfishing

Everyone who is asking about Buster in the last picture I put up, he is okay. He got on the wrong side of a wild animal, which happens from to time when you live in a rural area. He needed stitches, but he will be fine. Stop accusing me of mistreating my dogs.

12 notes

#ask answered

😷autopsyguy

I've been going through a hard time lately. A friend of mine recently passed, @ teamsassyscience, and I've been thinking about her a lot. Two other friends of mine, @ dogsandflyfishing and @ flowers-in-bloom, along with my boss, are currently in the hospital and things don't look good. I'm really worried

Not what any of you wanted to hear, but I just needed to vent and didn't know where else to do it.

Here's to Beverly, and hoping that Will, Alana, and Jack pull through.

73 notes

📸tattlecrime-official

EXCLUSIVE!

A Red Dinner

Today, the entire city of Baltimore was rocked by the shocking revelation that renowned psychiatrist, Dr. Hannibal Lecter, is indeed the true Chesapeake Ripper. According to sources, Lecter very nearly took the lives of three people, and killed a third. Will Graham, once accused himself of being the Ripper. Dr. Alana Bloom, his lover. And Special Agent Jack Crawford of the FBI, a man Lecter has worked with closely in recent months. The one victim who was DOA is reportedly none other than Abigail Hobbs, who has been assumed murdered for months now, previously by none other than Will Graham. And what's more, it turns out he isn't just a serial killer, he is a cannibal as well.

Click Here for the rest of the story on TattleCrime.com

7,651 notes

#tattlecrime #official #hannibal the cannibal

[campfam4lyfe]

I get that Brooklynn is your favorite, she used to be mine too, but what are your thoughts on her in chaos theory? Don't you feel they destroyed her character? She's not herself anymore, and the fact that she can just. Fake her death and traumatize her friends/neglect her boyfriend like. I don't know, thats not it. I don't like her much anymore.

time to do my job as a brooklynn defender lol, alright here goes:

Don't you feel they destroyed her character? She's not herself anymore, and the fact that she can just. Fake her death and traumatize her friends/neglect her boyfriend like. I don't know, thats not it.

So. Thinking about Brooklynn. About her death. You mention how she faked it. except, I don’t think saying she faked it is really an accurate or fair description.

Brooklynn didn’t fake anything—here is what we know, and here is what I mean. The facts that we are presented with through season 1. limited as they are, are that Brooklynn was at a Dino Drop, the allosaurus escaped, and that it "killed her." Except it didn't really kill her. It is framed as an accident--a random Dino attack. But Ben shows up and suddenly it's clear that maybe it wasn't an accident.

So let's run through the facts one more time. Brooklynn's 'death' at the hands of the allosaurus wasn't an accident. It was premeditated. The attack was an honest to goodness attempt on Brooklynn's life. One the camp fam--and the people who targeted Brooklynn in the first place--believed worked. You're going to want to keep this in mind, because now I am going to address the other part of your ask.

Don't you feel they destroyed her character? She's not herself anymore, and the fact that she can just. Fake her death and traumatize her friends/neglect her boyfriend like. I don't know, thats not it.

Brooklynn's character has not, to me, been destroyed.

We see little of Brooklynn and what she was doing throughout Chaos Theory, because we are learning about her again through the eyes and memories of the people who loved and mourned her--we are gathering bits and pieces, parts of the narrative that we, as the viewers, can piece together more efficiently than the actual players, because the knowledge the Camp Fam has is disjointed in that they are not all privy to the same information or how it connects--and it's not their fault at all! They are not working under the same information we have--that Brooklynn is alive--and so, don't know why certain things are more important. Even we don't have the full picture, although what we have is a little clearer.

But from what we see of Brooklynn throughout Chaos Theory, there is something there that you believe is not true to her previously established character. I disagree. I think what you are talking about, when you say that she is not herself anymore, is that Brooklynn is too invested in her conspiracies, so much so that she has thrown everything else away--her "life", her regard for her friends/family and her relationships with them.

But I think, that when it comes to Brooklynn, being obsessed with a conspiracy or mystery is in fact a major core part of her character. We saw it all throughout Camp Cretaceous. She sneaks away when they visit Wu's lab that first time to snoop--and yes, maybe it was for her followers, trying to find something juicy before everything went to shit, but what she saw clearly stood out to her. She was hooked, she reviewed that footage, and it stayed with her so much so that when she saw the label E750 again at a later date while on the security cameras, she lingered over the shot before having to move on to help the others. And even then, it was clear that it stayed with her--whatever Wu did, whatever E750 was, it was a mystery and Brooklynn wanted to solve it.

And we see the others are aware of this! Sammy recruits Brooklynn to help out in her quest to find information, and the mystery consumes Brooklynn so much that initially, she was steamrolling right over Sammy's input. We also see Brooklynn's thirst for mystery solving when she becomes so focused on the frozen flowers, something she mentioned so much so that the other campers could quote her on it. We see it with her suspicions regarding Mitch and Tiff, and even Mae. We see it again in the final episode, when we catch a glimpse of the campers as teenagers. Brooklynn mentions the Lockwood Estate, which, for those who don't know or remember, is where the later events of JW:Fallen Kingdom (timeline wise, this is three years after the first Jurassic World, so three years after the kids first got left behind in the Park.) The events at the Lockwood Estate and what was supposed to be happening there wasn't public knowledge. That was Brooklynn following a lead, as at that point in time when she brings it up, the dinosaurs hadn't been set loose yet.

The reason I mention all this is because I really don't think Brooklynn's obsessiveness or drive is new. She loves investigative work, and she's good at putting together pieces too. She's also been shown to have a love for mysteries, loving Esther Stone and having her videos following the pattern of being named "Brooklynn unboxes x." She likes knowing the whys, whens, wheres, and whats. She literally says that she is trying to make the transition from influencer/vlogger to investigative journalist. Which is why I am not at all surprised with her being so focused on this Dino smuggling rings, and why I believe it was in character.

Tying It All Together

Now I know what you may be thinking. "But she neglected Kenji! That's not good girlfriend behavior. She faked her death! That's horrible." Valid, but also, not fundamentally true.

I said earlier, that by "not herself" you might mean that "Brooklynn is too invested in her conspiracies, so much so that she has thrown everything else away--her "life", her regard for her friends/family and her relationships with them." I don't think she has though, and if it has ended up that way, it was never her intention.

Take in all the Brooklynn scenes from Chaos Theory. Each member of the Camp Fam has an interaction with her that is shown through flashback or hinted at. So let's put together a timeline.

Brooklynn is dead at the start of the show, but for how long, I don't actually remember. I will put it at 6 months to a year, but if anyone else knows for sure, just let me know and I'll fix it. Anyways. She is dead for six months to a year. And in the months leading up to her death, she was investigating something, but they don't know what. We know that it had something to do with Dark Jurassic, Kenji's father, and Dino Smuggling. We know Ben introduced her to Dark Jurassic. We know Brooklynn stayed with Darius, left her jacket at Sammy's, and visited Yaz.

So here goes a tentative undertaking:

Ben introduces Brooklynn to Dark Jurassic and she visits him at his college. He hasn't dropped out/left yet. She is mentioning conspiracy theories, some as a joke, but its clear something there has caught her attention.

Brooklynn gets deeper into Dark Jurassic, and at some point reads about Dino Immersive therapy, which she recommends to Yaz. She visits her at some point, but when, is unclear.

Brooklynn visits Sammy. She is on Dark Jurassic so often that when Sammy has a flashback of her, Brooklynn is visibly on the site.

Brooklynn is with Kenji, but has been so absorbed in her mystery that she has started to neglect Kenji, but doesn't realize it. This goes on for a while. He breaks up with her and they are both devastated.

Brooklynn stays with Darius. Is still embroiled in her mystery. Asks Darius to meet up with her. "Dies."

Now, at some point before 4 and 5, Brooklynn visits Daniel Kon, gets a secret apartment, and is undercover within the Dino Smuggling ring.

We know that she did not tell her friends, or her boyfriend, any of this. Why? Especially Kenji! He was her boyfriend, one of her biggest supporter's, and his father was the guy Brooklynn went to so she could get her in to the smuggling world. Kenji has always heard her out, like when he was the one who stayed behind with her when she accidentally hurt Darius with the 'cool dad' comment. Kenji is the one who agreed to snoop with her regardless of his feelings because it was important to her. So why would she not go to her biggest supporter?

I believe that Chaos Theory tackled the kids growing up and their respective trauma very well. Not all of them are dealing very well. Yaz is the only one who seems to have gone to therapy, while Ben, Darius, and Kenji are all isolating. Sammy is dealing with repression and toxic positivity. It's very possible that Brooklynn was also dealing, and not very well at that. It's possible that her trauma manifested in another way. Maybe she needed to push herself into a project so she could ignore what happened--or maybe she needed to push herself into a project so if something happened, she could be prepared? We don't know! And it's because we don't know that I am going to, for the time being, ignore this, and focus on the possible reasons as to why she didn't tell them from what we do know.

Yaz has PTSD, and struggled a lot with the hopelessness of having to put the dinosaurs first and it costing them their way home in the later seasons of CC. So maybe Brooklynn didn't tell her because she didn't want to halter Yaz's progress. Still, she let on that she was investigating something and about Dark Jurassic.

Sammy is worried about Yaz, and so maybe Brooklynn didn't tell her because involving Sammy might mean involving Yaz, or maybe she didn't want to put stress on their relationship by having Sammy lie to her. Still, she let on that she was investigating something and about Dark Jurassic.

Ben had college. What, was she just going to disrupt that? Still, she let on that she was investigating something and talked with him about Dark Jurassic, which he introduced her to.

Kenji. Kenji was her boyfriend, her rock, THE Brooklynn enabler. who has always heard her out. The only time he didn't hear her out immediately was when his father was interfering. The same father she would need to go to for a door into the smuggling world. The same father who Kenji lived close to but never visited. In the last season of CC, Brooklynn, when investigating Daniel Kim, says that she won't break Kenji's heart without a good reason. Maybe, she did not feel like going to him about his father was a good reason--Kenji was in a good place, how could she hurt him like that? Maybe she thought she was protecting him. So she doesn't tell him. Still, she let on that she was investigating something.

Darius. Darius is my biggest "Brooklynn's Fake Death Can't Be Classified As Willfully Malicious On Her Part" card. Because he is the one that proves that Brooklynn did not in fact get sucked in so deep in her mystery that she tossed away all bonds and relationships. Did her death fuck him up? Definitely. But guys! She called him there that night, they had plans, she was "going to show him something!!!" Guys. She went to Darius. She was going to show Darius. Do you get that. In Chaos Theory, they say "Brooklynn was there to buy the Allosaurus that night." They are heartbroken. Yaz and Sammy say no way, and Darius says it is true, that she had a secret apartment, cash, and a note from Mr.Kim. But guys. She was going to show Darius.

Every time Brooklynn is called out on her behavior and shown how her obsessiveness hurts her friends—the way Sammy called her out when they were investigating E750, or her feeling regret over the “cool dad” comment when investigating Mitch and Tiff—she takes a step back and reassesses. She starts to investigate again but with changed behavior. That’s growth. Kenji breaking up with her may have really been the catalyst to her trying to show Darius what she was up to. As Darius says, Brooklynn was really torn up about the breakup and it is so visible on her face that she is devastated—she loved Kenji. She loved her friends.

So Brooklynn’s behavior, it was not Brooklynn cutting out her friends. Was she 100% honest with all of them? No. And unfortunately, the one person who she was going to show what was going on, didn't get to make it, and Brooklynn was killed.

Except she lived. So why not tell them? Why let them stew in grief? Why abandon them? Look, I think a lot of you are forgetting that the kids are very very good at improv. Are we forgetting Darius and Kash?An attempt on Brooklynn's life was made, and she somehow miraculously survived. She adapted, and made a plan on the go, lying low, somehow creating a trusted network, while being unable to reach out to her friends--it would blow her cover, and also possibly put them in danger. Who knows? Besides. Let's not forget, Ben was not the one who called Darius in that first episode. I don't know, but I do think it could have been Brooklynn, or someone on behalf of her, like Ronnie. (Or it could have been raptor lady to make sure Darius was home but who knows!)

Look, ultimately, you don't have to like her, and I'm not forcing anyone to! I do love her though, and her choices are ones I will defend. Besides, I know we are talking about camp fam trauma reactions to Brooklynn's death, but guys, flip side? We have a character who was going to tell her friend what she was up to, only to have an assassination attempt on her life causing her to lose a limb and go into hiding, not being able to contact her loved ones. I cannot even begin to think of the trauma Brooklynn has.

I hope this answers your ask anon, I feel I rambled too much lol!

[yanderehsr]

Hi is it ok if I ask for march 7th, Steele, and tingyun. With a reader who ends up getting really hurt trying to protect then from danger? I hope that's not too much!I love your work!

So either you meant Stelle or Seele... I'll just do both

Also glad that you enjoy my writing, Hope you'll enjoy😄

Trigger Warning: Yandere, Obsessive behaviour, Possessive behaviour, Kidnapping, Murder

March 7th: She is stumbling over herself to catch you before you fall on the ground, she sees her own hands covered in blood, your blood. She will hyperventilate as she covers your wound, she searches around for the danger, to find who made this happen to you.

You will wake up again in the same spot, covered in bandages, March 7th is soothingly rubbing circles in your hand and if you look behind her you will see an ice sculpture of a human, nothing suspicious at all about that, right?

"I-I'm so glad you're awake, I don't know what would happen to me if you died"

Stelle: Time seems to go in slowmotion as she sees you take a hit meant for her, Stelle's eyes turn aggressive as she looks at your attacker, at this point it really doean't matter who hurt you, whether they are friend or foe, they will pay.

Whoever it is gets a brutal pummeling from Stelle, blood will aplatter everywhere yet she does not care, they hurt you and that is all that matters. After Stelle is satisfied she will go back to your side, sit down and guard you until you wake up, this will never happen again, she'll make sure of it.

"Never take a hit meant for me again, do you hear me, never again, I was so worried... you are sticking by my side at all times from now on"

Seele: She sees your body limp on the ground and she feels dread, you can't be dead, not her sweetie, she will go check for your pulse, see if you are still alive, when she feels a pulse she will sigh out in relief, now to take care of the bastard who dared hurt you.

You will wake up to Seele letting your head rest on her lap, it would be comforting if not for the fact that she is drenched in blood, from top to bottom yet she still has that same smile on her face like nothing is wrong and that she is looking at a precious treasure.

"Take it easy love, this blood isn't even mine, I just took care of some pests for you, no need to be grateful, protecting you is my duty after all"

Tingyun: She didn't understand why you would take the hit, she is stronger than you, you didn't need to do it. She will take a look over you, make sure you are actually safe, she wont be sticking around, she is taking you back home to make sure you rest and heal.

Tingyun locks you into her home, she doesn't want to see you hurt ever again, she can't stand it when you get wounded, even less if it's cus you protected her. She will be extra clingy for a while tho, she just needs to hold you, make sure you're alive.

"Please don't do that ever again, you are too precious to lose... I am grateful either way, you must love me just as much as I do you"

[bonbon-bonny]

I don't usually write a whole lot but I wanted to talk about this for a moment

Ahem. *flips through notes*

So I loooove Sailor Moon. Specifically the 90s version. It was my favorite show growing up. My home life was difficult and to see someone like Usagi with a perfect family, a perfect boyfriend etc. getting to live her best life despite the fact she herself wasn't perfect was too easy to become a bit obsessive over ^_^;

well, let's just say I wanted to be Usagi just a bit too much because my world, my family (Side note: I looove my family! They did the best they could to take care of me growing up, but we had to deal with an unusual circumstance that made it hard for all of us), heck just even being myself didn't feel good enough and frankly it left me having to confront a lot of issues just to be okay with who I am now.

And of course ,naturally, I looooved Tuxedo Kamen XD. On the outside to me, he seemed perfect; a knight in shining armor.

But I always kept running into a particular conversation which is "why do you like him so much tho? He seems like a jerk. He seems so different from her. He never shows her affection. She'd be better off with someone like Seiya who's more on her level. He's useless. He's bad for trying to help her because she's a girl boss and doesn't need to be rescued." Like, seriously the amount of criticism I've heard towards this character is wild and he literally gets attacked no matter what he does.

And you know I get it. If you just look at it from a surface level it's easy to maybe get that impression of him but after one particular conversation I was having with a friend of mine about it I stopped and asked myself why. Why does she like him? why does he like her? how can two people who outwardly look so different from each other ever be in a healthy relationship? what could the two of them possibly have in common?

So I did what I do best and I watched the show I grew up with carefully. I observed him. I watched the things he said and did. And in the end I reached several conclusions.

Mamoru isn't perfect, at least in the beginning, but he's always trying to do his best to be. With almost anyone else in the show he's usually calm, collected and somewhat reserved. The only person besides Motoki he seems to act out a bit with if you can call it that IS Usagi and half of the time it's not even that he's actually being mean.

[IF you watch the Japanese version with subtitles, because in the English dub? Ooph! they changed so much of his dialogue and gave him such a smirky voice it's hard to listen to him without wanting to punch him in the face imo.]

It's that the way she perceives him is off. Also, sometimes it's not even HIM that starts the arguments.

Sometimes SHE'S the one who starts their spats and he snaps back at her. Sometimes she hits him with shoes and papers and doesn't seem to care.

One episode that comes to mind is the Dreamland episode where the toy train stops and she rams into him. All he did was look at her and say hi and immediately she got defensive and started making fun of him.

Making fun of an orphan sitting on a toy train who most likely was just trying to do something fun that he never got to because he didn't HAVE a family to take him as a kid.

Seriously. If you were to be in his place, going through this world, it's rather scary, stressful, terrifying, and uncertain.

He didn't get a magical talking cat to walk him through his powers. Instead he got seizures and psychic visions, and a past life version of himself that took over his body without consent until he finally got the rainbow crystal and understood what was happening around him.

He gets amnesia not once but twice, kidnapped several times, and gets trapped in his own mind twice ala brainwashing by beryl and Nehelenia and by stars I wouldn't be surprised if half of the reason he went to study abroad instead of staying with Usagi is because he was afraid if he did he'd only continue to be a burden for her, because the man hardly has any dialogue and seems almost catatonic.

Also let's be real here. As amazing as it was for him to meet and talk with his future self it probably scared him. The responsibility of literally being King of the world, of making decisions that could impact the lives of everyone in tremendous ways. Of being the kind of partner and provider he thinks Usagi deserves or being a good father for Chibi-Usa when he didn't get to have parents to show him what those things looked like.

He didn't get a loving family to support him or tell him that they loved him, he was an orphan who probably hoped someone would eventually rescue him but no one ever did.

He probably feels in his heart that he doesn't deserve to be loved by anyone, and even if someone were to pursue him romantically he probably couldn't reciprocate in any meaningful way because he's most likely too closed off emotionally to be in a healthy relationship with anyone.

Heck the guy only for the most part has only two best friends. Motoki and Saori and frankly I'd hardly even call Saori a best friend since she literally just shows up in an episode in Super S as "Romantic competition" for Usagi and then just ups and vanishes and is never mentioned ever ever again.

So how does someone like him see Usagi and wind up constantly sacrificing his life over and over again for her?

Three words:

She. Sees. Him.

Once she starts to look at him a bit differently instead of seeing him as some tall guy running around with his stupid green jacket with his prickly personality, once she realizes that it was him trying to rescue her when she was so close to the brink of death on occasions and getting injured in the process, once he opens up to her about his struggles she sees him. Not just because he's a hero, but because even if it's hard for him he still tries to help her. A lot of times he even gives her really sound advice that she winds up listening to even if at the time he tells her she doesn't seem to understand him and takes it the wrong way.

He probably also deep down worries that he truly doesn't deserve someone like her.

Even if we don't always see it from the outside he adores Usagi because she sees him for who he is and doesn't ask him to be more outgoing or different.

Usagi adores him because he doesn't ask her to be anything other than who she really is.

Both of them accept the other as they truly are inside. THAT is true love.

You don't really get the chance to see what their relationship looks like from the outside. But he smiles a lot when he's with her which is certainly not something he really ever did with Rei or anyone else from what I could tell. And I bet when he does take her out on dates he's embarrassed and flustered and stumbles but he also probably takes off his mask and tries to make her happy and have a good time.

Also I'd like to add some notes on King Endymion and the violet. Why so much violet? Like....an overwhelming amount of violet XD I never understood why when I was younger but as I've grown up I've spent some time delving into subjects such as Psychology, Spirituality, and Philosophy.

Ladies and gentlemen, Violet is the color of the crown chakra.

https://www.chakras.info/crown-chakra/

Crown chakras deal with the mental and the spiritual. They are a gateway to enlightenment and in my opinion perhaps one could even say that the journey of mental health and enlightenment are two sides of the same coin.

So I'd like to think that for as much as Mamoru might struggle with his mental health, he also walked the path towards true enlightenment. Such a man truly should be King of the World and is more than deserving of being Usagi's partner.

And I'd die for a relationship with a man who is brave enough to confront the things which makes him suffer because I'd know that he'd have the clarity of mind to be a good partner, to treat me with kindness and compassion and show me the kind of love I've always dreamed of having, and that's something only someone who has love for themselves and others could ever possibly be able to give. He doesn't need to be perfect, because perfection is unattainable. He just needs to be brave enough to try even if it makes him deeply uncomfortable at times.

So,

To the men who truly and deeply identify with Mamoru, know I'd marry you in a heartbeat if you asked. That if you showered me in chocolate and flowers I'd do the exact same thing for you because you deserve it. Anyone who is brave enough to do the work necessary to heal and grow, to have kindness and compassion for others, to show me that even if I'm not perfect that it's still okay to be myself around you deserves every happiness in the world.

Not everyone is brave enough to do such a thing and I've come to a point in my life where I'm not interested in what someone can give me externally as much as I am in the kind of person they choose to be and what their values are.

Maybe some people might look at someone like Mamoru and judge him, but Usagi most certainly never would once she got to know him; and considering I've always wanted to be her I'll die on this hill defending him. Out of everyone, Usagi WOULD defend him from the judgement, from the criticism, of the need to be perfect and wear masks, or be something other than what he truly is on the inside.

Mamoru is more than just a knight in shining armor,

He's beautiful imperfection; and I'd choose that over anything else any day.

@heavyheartedprinceofearth

[winkliee]

Hello I'm back! How are you? I really loved your first Hantengu's clones fic ! Your writing is really amazing !

Could I request some Yandere Hantengu's clones when they first find out about their s/o ? How would they become obsessed with them ? It can be either separate or together !

If you're too uncomfortable with this request, could you maybe write the same but without yandere please ?

The reader can be either gn or fem, it doesn't matter to me !

Thank you again and have a good day/night ! 🫶

i am so happy you liked it! ty for your request!! hope you are having a good day!

yandere hantengu clones finding out about their s/o!!

warnings: yandere theme, blood/gore, slightly suggestive, mentions of stalking, smut in karaku's part, y/n is seen in different professions and perspectives

sekido!!

he found you out after following some slayers for a surprise attack. you were a nurse at the infirmary, and once he laid his eyes on you, he was in awe. you had a charm, and it worked like magic on him, not only him, but also the others. he didn't complete his mission then, if that leads to you and the others relocating to a safer place? every night he would sneak back to a safe hiding spot, and watch you through your window. by now, he knew your exact routine, since you were so punctual. he would stay all the time you were sleeping, once even burning himself in the sun as he was late to move out. he burns in unimaginable rage when he sees you tending to other slayers, while he cannot receive the same treatment. his jealousy was fueled even more when he saw you concerned over the plight of a missing slayer, someone he had butchered to death just that day, the stench of blood on his hands stronger than ever.

"i will definitely have you only for mine one day," he promises to himself.

karaku!!

karaku must be grateful to daki and gyutaro for guiding his trip in the red light district. how else would he have met you? you were cute, an oiran, and utterly beautiful. he wanted to know her even more, also going to the extent of teasing daki that you were more beautiful than her, when he got to know that you and daki weren't on good terms, he was underwhelmed, since he wanted to get introduced to you. soon enough, he understood he was falling for you, whenever he would get jealous hearing your moans from other men pleasuring you, while he stood outside your window, his hands palming his erection. there was some sort of excitement in this which he felt, which even dragged on to the moment he killed the men who came out from your bedroom, as he would not keep any man who came out from your bedroom alive. he hopes one day he can lay his hands on you, as your customer, and make you his forever.

aizetsu!!

[can't imagine aizetsu as yandere but here we are]

he knew he was doomed from the moment he laid his eyes on you. you almost killed him, and he-he likes you now? he was embarrassed and ashamed with himself as he blushed to the scars you gave him, deliberately not healing them. he started lurking around close to the corps location, checking on your whereabouts, when he was heartbroken to see you already having a lover. he tried to console himself but he couldn't, only watching both of you share kisses and hugs in the vicinity of your bedroom, while his heart burns with jealousy. he wants you to be happy, even though he often finds himself crying on lonely nights, being sure that muzan kibutsuji would kill him if he came to know of his "love story". but all hell broke loose when he saw you two having a quarrel, and he was shouting at you, while you cried. aizetsu was filled with so much rage, he would not let anyone hurt what is his, let alone her lover. as he came out of their house, aizetsu came out of nowhere, punching him, strangling him and almost leaving him half dead when he realized what he had done. he fled, but somehow the stench and sight of blood in his hands made him happy, until he saw you crying for him, and not for aizetsu, when his heart was broken again.

"someday would surely come when you will cry for me, and that day i am even ready to accept death."

urogi!!

his emotion of joy changes to sadistic pleasure as you scream into his ears and scratch him, telling him to release you. but he won't. after all he has won you. why did he take all the trouble, from following you helping your family bring logs from the forest to seeing your stomach rise softly as you breathe, of course all of this is to win you. although he does regret not getting to consume your now dead family, it would have been such a meal for him. but now he is satisfied with you, as he laughs as you helplessly cling onto him, while he flies high in the sky, taking you to somewhere only he knows.

"you are mine now princess," he says lovingly with a smile on his face, "although i might break a bone or two if you try to escape."

thank you for reading. likes and reblogs are appreciated.

[luneymoony]

The Butterfly's Effect (Prologue)

a SAGAU!Imposter! AU x Shinobu!Reader where the reader is.. well, shinobu kocho from demon slayer.

CW: mentions of death, swearing, slight mentions of dissecting? Major Spoiler Warning for the anime only watchers out there! (imsosorryomfg) WC: 1.4k Notes: reader will be shinobu, like, literally. english isnt my first language so i apologize if theres any grammar, spelling mistakes or edits. :)) i've been obsessed with crossovers and sagaus so why not put them together? Photo is not mine!

...

It's so dark.

What happened?

I can't remember anything..

Wait..

Am I.. Dead?

~

The final battle of the Demon slayer corps has finally come to an end. The demon king, Muzan has finally succumbed to his demise after more than ten thousand years of living as a demon. The upper moons were all defeated and Japan is now demon free.

Of course, everything comes with a price. As many people strived to defeat the demon king, many also died in the process. Tomioka Giyuu, and Shinazugawa Sanemi, The remaining Hashiras of the corps.

Rengoku Kyojiro, Iguro Obanai, Kanroji Mitsuri, Tokito Muichiro, Himejima Gyomei, Kocho Shinobu.

These were the pillars that had lost their lives in the battlefield. Many people lost something in that battle. Their lives, their loved ones, their abilities. It will take time to heal from these wounds. Emotionally, physically and mentally.

Kanao looked at the butterfly hairpin on her hand, her mind drifts off to the insect hashira and how she died, how she was getting absorbed by that vile and disgusting demon. How she could've saved her if she was more quick enough.

Tears prickled in the corners of her eyes, holding the butterfly hairpin more firmly and bringing it close to her chest. She misses them so much. She can only pray that they will be reincarnated to a world free of demons. A world where they could be happy.

A world that they can live in freely.

~

Your eyes flutters open. Your head was spinning and the first thing your eyes see is the clear, bright blue sky. You blinked rapidly to clear your blurring vision. You moved your head a bit to take in your surroundings.

You were laying on a soft patch of grass in the middle of nowhere. A large tree giving you enough shade to block your form from the sun's bright, and burning glow.

Slowly you sat up, groaning while doing so. You don't remember laying or being here when you were last conscious. The last thing you remembered was the sound of your sword dropping to the ground and-

Wait.

That's right, you were fighting uppermoon two. By what you can gather, you had died and had been absorbed by him.

But.. what happened after that? You certainly didn't remember getting yourself teleported to this unknown place, in fact, this wasn't even where you were when you had fought the bastard. And aren't you supposed to be dead?

Your thoughts were interrupted when there's a sudden noise coming from behind the tree. The loud noise startling you from your train of thoughts. You stood up —albeit a bit slowly— and noticed that you still had your sword with you, and your clothes were still intact. Your hand went to the back of your head to feel the butterfly hairpin that is strangely still there.

Choosing to save the questions that were racing in your mind for later, you feel the hilt of your sword and carefully and quietly approached the matter behind the tree.

You stopped once your eyes spot the.. Unusual looking creature? It looked a bit human, with arms, legs, a head and a mask covering its face. Weird ears. It also looked like it has something on its mask.

The creature seemed didn't seem to notice you or your presence, not until you stood in front of it did it froze. Its noises stopped too. It looked completely frozen by the sight of you.

Your hand on your sword's hilt had tighten, although it didn't show any signs of attacking you nor does it seemed armed, you were still very wary of it.

It doesn't look like a demon, well, not the usual demons. It is sure a humanoid creature with just some weird ears but it doesn't seem harmful. You also noticed that it had a briefcase from its side.

"What are you?"

Those are the first words you have spoken ever since you had woken up. Your voice was hoarse, your mouth and throat felt dry like the dessert. But you aren't giving in to the tempting urge to drinking whatever liquid is near to you until this creature answered you your question.

Although you did feel a bit stupid to just ask this random creature a question, when you could've just killed it right then and there for its unusual appearance. However.. you weren't going to attack it until it attacks you first. Plus, there were something off about this one.

Your gentle gaze and soft movements startled the Unusual Hilichurl. It couldn't get its eyes off of you, you looked like you simply didn't exist. It usually payed no mind to the others and the mortals that passed by. Taking no interest in them whatsoever.

But when its eyes laid on you, it froze. The hilichurl had no idea why but it felt like its about to drop to its knees before your presence. And that, it did.

Your eyes blinked in surprise at the kneeling hilichurl in front of you. Truth to say, your eyes were keen and careful to whatever movement its doing so as you were almost about to unsheathe your sword, it just dropped to its knees and bowed.

"What are you doing?"

The creature didn't moved an inch, it just kneeled and didn't say anything. It didn't even answer your first question.

You were even more curious by this sudden behavior of this mysterious creature. You wanted to investigate and possibly might dissect it for later. Yet you couldn't ignore your stomach that was begging for food, and your dry throat.

Seeing as this creature didn't want to seem to cooperate, and it most likely probably couldn't, you let it be, as you need to do more important things. Like finding food and water to prevent yourself from dying of thirst or starvation.

You just took once more glance at it and turned your heel to walk away. To your surprise, you have spotted a small river. You walked towards it and removed your butterfly patterned haori to properly drink it.

The water's very refreshing, and it felt like heaven when the liquid made contact to your mouth, and down to your throat. Not to mention, the water also tastes quite good. Its most likely because you haven't really drank much. Wonder how long you were laying in that area?

After drinking, you had put your haori back on and went to explore this unfamiliar place that you're in. Maybe you could find some sort of village or town here that would invite you in.

You looked around for a bit and noticed that theres something in the distance that caught your eye, was it a city perhaps? it looked huge, there were windmills that you could see clearly from this place. Maybe there'll be some people there that can help you.

The cool breeze of the air and the heat of the sun felt so much like home to you. It has been awhile since you felt this relaxed with such environment. The scenery, the relaxing atmosphere, it felt so nostalgic.

"This is nice."

You couldn't help but speak fondly out loud. You smiled to yourself, a real and genuine smile. Not the fake smile that you usually wore to hide your true self, but a relaxed, and actual calm smile. This sense of tranquility almost feels too foreign to you that you couldn't help but sigh and close your eyes.

Even if you didn't see it, even if you weren't there, you could sense that the uppermoon two had been defeated by your tsuguko, and Inosuke. You couldn't help but chuckle at the thought of the cocky bastard arrogantly mocking you from your "worthless" attempt to kill him.

It was only when the poison taking effect did you laugh at that fucker's melting face. He really did underestimate you huh? Who knew that a simple butterfly can unleash so much hell with a single flap of its wings? It was truly pathetic trying to see the little shit's futile attempt regenerate its head.

Once the uppermoon had been defeated and is now entering the gates of hell, you were triumphant of his demise. You couldn't stand seeing his stupid face and seeing it melting to the ground unleashed a wave of satisfaction in you.

You shook your head and chuckled to yourself, focusing on your only goal for now as you continued your way to the city with a slight and satisfied curl of your lips.

The windmills of this city was getting clearer to your vision, as you were getting nearer and nearer to the city, a voice suddenly calls out.

"Stop right there!"

You froze and stopped in your tracks. Was it another one of those creatures that you met at that tree? but this one can talk and- wait a minute. Are they speaking in a foreign language?

Where exactly did you wake up in?

~~~

hihihiii its finally hereee

i've been procrastinating this for a week now becuz ive been so busy but here it is! the amount of ideas i have for this is akkakkahdjas

but ive finally managed to put myself together to make this! i really hope u all like it :,)

lmk if anyone wants me to continue this, the prologue is slightly boring and messy at first but ill try to make it readable as possible.

Edit: i forgot to put a spoiler warninggg :C im so sorry anime only watchers akcsksksk

[very-lucky]

I have been deeply obsessed with Fields of Mistria since it launched and I just entered my Second Year on my farm, so I decided to compile a list of some things that I like about this game a lot so far.

You can jump. Over fences. There aren't gates (yet?), but you can jump and this isn't a thing you can do in any farming game. There's even a jump attack that you can unlock. It rocks.

Townsfolk will tell you what they like and what other townsfolk like. They may even give you the recipe for their favorite thing.

You can never plant a seed in the wrong season on accident. And if you plant a seed in the wrong place, you can dig it up before you water it to put it where you meant to have it.

You can make all your tools FOR FREE if you have the materials and doing that has the chance to give them power ups (once you've unlocked that skill)

NOT ONLY TOOLS BUT ARMOR ALSO. AND ARMOR DOESN'T TAKE UP INVENTORY SPACE IF YOU'RE WEARING IT.

You can decorate on half-squares. Get into it.

The relationships you make with townsfolk and the heart scenes that you have might just change things about the town itself. Highlighting Ryis for this one specifically.

The whole premise of the game is assisting a town after a disaster and providing disaster relief while also growing affection for each of the characters and the town as a whole. You do big projects to help the town and the town improves and provides you, the player, with more resources and activities to do.

The mines have different biomes and enemies and resources and COSMETICS that you can collect. There's really no shortage of things to collect here.

All the furniture sets play together in a really nice way where you are able to mix and match the looks you like. They're definite sets of furniture and some of them even have their own unique storage chests.

There's so much deep lore that I'm so excited about. It almost feels like by doing what there is of Early Access, I am now waiting for the next chapter to drop so I can learn more about this world and characters.

Inventory stacks limit at 999?! For everything?? I’ve never had a stack that big! (edited)

Characters outfits change every season.

You can always tell where villagers are on the map

Since Mistria is MAGICAL you can also grow crops in the winter.

That dragon is going to be romanceable. If the rumors are true, we may even have TWO romanceable dragons.

All the characters are interesting on their own and have relationships with each other beyond you. They are always having different conversations and talking about different stuff that they do and that other characters do and that YOU DO. I love them all. No flops.

I'm really hoping for more depth in the passage of time as the game develops. I would love to see either 1) a reason for time to be at a standstill in Mistria so it makes sense that the child characters are not aging as you spend multiple years in town or 2) time to actually progress and for characters to get older, especially as marriage and children come into the picture. I know this is a stretch and not everyone wants something like that... but I really liked it in A Wonderful Life as a concept and I think it would be neat here.

[hunterssm00n]

Nature of the Beast

Yandere! Stalker! Soldier 76 au

It's only natural to free the animal...

*cw include stalking, yandere behavior, obsession, talks of abduction, and cliffhanger*

♡˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ♡

hunterssm00n © All rights reserved by me. I do not allow this work to be used or adapted in any way without my permission.

He’s watching me.

I know he’s there. I don’t need to see him to be sure; I can sense his presence, just like I know he can sense mine. It sounds dramatic as hell, but it’s like we’re connected, somehow. He knows me, just like I know him, intrinsically and without any other explanation. Even though we’ve only known each other a short time, that’s how it is.

He’s always watching. I can barely walk down the street or turn a corner without feeling his gaze on me.

I feel it especially now, sitting in my car outside of my apartment complex. It was a constant game; can I make it into the safety of the doors of my building before he catches me? He hadn't been so bold as to enter my home, yet. My one safe place, though I don't doubt at all that he has watched my windows from his own safe space in the shadows. He also hasn't seriously attempted to capture me, either, but every day I know he is growing more and more impatient. Every day, I wonder if this will be the day that he finally snaps; the day he finally decides to just go for it. 

What will he do to me once he finally catches me? I have no idea. As much as I don't want to admit it, I am drawn to him, as well. Who is he? What is it about me that has him so damn obsessed? 

What does he truly want from me?

The fact that this has been my nightly ritual for the past few weeks is almost inhumane. Is this how animals feel when they’re being hunted? I dart through the parking lot like a scared rabbit, and I know the wolf is watching; waiting for the perfect moment to attack. 

My breath comes out in quick puffs as I run quickly but carefully across the slick pavement, practically feeling his hot breath on the back of my neck.

Almost there. I cuss inwardly at my landlord for giving me one of the farthest parking spots away from the complex - telling me it’s because I’m young and spry! 

Somewhere nearby a car alarm goes off, and my steps falter as I whip my head around to see where the noise is coming from. 

That’s a mistake. 

He’s on me in an instant, his warmth engulfing me. I sense it even before he grabs me, and he does so with a full body capture that has my breath whooshing out of my chest as he tightly pulls me back against his hard body. One large hand comes up to cover my mouth, and the moment I feel his arms wrap around me, I seize up, fight or flight kicking in overdrive, and I begin struggling in his too strong grip, but to no avail. My cry of surprise is muffled by his gloved palm, his big hand practically engulfing the lower half of my face, and I lurch in his arms to try and throw him off balance. I am no match for him. He's too... everything. Too strong, too fast, too prepared for this.

And I know now that he has me exactly where he wants me. 

♡˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ♡

this is an excerpt from what will be a full length story on ao3 - link will be provided soon

I do not own the song ‘Nature of the Beast' by My Darkest Days. The above pictures are from pinterest and there’s a link attached to the original post.

[20-th-centurygirl]

you're mine

mason mount x fem!reader

warnings: smut (this is filth tbh), language, fluff

summary: reader gets jealous when she sees Mason flirting with someone so she shows him who he belongs to

a/n: Oh my godddd I'm so scared about this one but the idea of sub mason is just 😵. This is the first smut I've written and it's honestly just filth. I think i got a bit carried away as its long but oh well. I also actually requested this to different writers but I decided to write it myself too just cause I got obsessed with the idea 🫣

masterlist

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

You knew it wasn't the greatest idea, but you still agreed to go to a club with Mason to celebrate Ben's birthday. You knew fans approaching him, drooling over him and practically attempting to make him fuck them then and there was inevitable, but you couldn't help the tinge of jealously that flooded your senses everytime you witnessed it happen. And that jealously was taking over you right now. Mason had gone over to the bar to get another drink, and just as you'd expected, a girl with the tightest and shortest dress you'd ever seen sauntered over to him, pushing her chest out as she ran her hand up his arm. She was in hysterics and, as funny as he was, nothing Mason had ever said could possibly be that funny. You couldn't tear your gaze away, especially not from Mason who seemed to entertaining her.

You were snapped out of your trance when Ben tapped your shoulder. He saw your gaze from the table opposite yours that he was sat on, and he knew exactly what you were thinking and why you were annoyed.

"If looks could kill they'd have both dropped dead at that bar a while ago" He laughed as you briefly turned your head to look at him before returning your gaze to your boyfriend and the girl that couldn't keep her hands off him. "Nothing he can say is that funny. And people know he has a girlfriend, she's looked at me multiple times so she clearly knows who I am. Bitch." Ben simply chuckled. "Look, remember he's going home with you. He's absolutely whipped for you and you only." "Yeah he looks it." You rolled your eyes as you saw him place a hand on her back before walking towards you, smiling as if absolutely nothing happened. "I'm off, I'll let you two deal with this on your own." He walked off quickly, leaving you and a very confused Mason stood in a quiet corner of the bar.

You could still see the girl watching Mason, smirking at him. "What's wrong baby?" He asked and you rolled your eyes. "Don't fucking baby me. What's wrong is that slag that was throwing herself at you, and instead of telling her to fuck off and that your girlfriend was over there, you entertained her." Shock washed over his face, mainly shock at the way you were speaking. But you'd had a drink and you were not going to tolerate the disrespect, not tonight. "What?" "Oh please she was practically begging you to bend her over the bar and fuck her." His eyes widened at your tone and how vulgar it was. "y/n" He said softly, but you weren't having any of it. You grabbed his wrist and pulled him towards the exit, your nails digging into his arm but frankly you couldn't care less. Anger and possessiveness had completely clouded your senses and you were going go show Mason who he belonged to. The moment you were outside you pushed him against as wall, holding the back of his neck you kissed him aggressively, taking the air out of both of your lungs. On his part, Mason found your behaviour extremely attractive and he felt his jeans begin to get tight. He knew you had a jealous streak when it came to him, but it was never this extreme. You pulled away, both heavily panting. You moved your head towards his ear, "you're mine Mason, and I think you need to be reminded of that." You whispered, and you swore you heard Mason let out a faint whimper at the threat. You both stood outside waiting for a taxi, you attacking his neck which didn't help his situation at all. The bulge in his jeans was too obvious to hide, and all he could to was hope he got home soon.

---------------------------------------------------

The moment you got home you pressed him up against the front door and kissed him hard. Mason didn't have a clue where this was going, and he wasn't sure if the feeling in his stomach was butterflies or anxiety but whatever it was he loved it."Go upstairs. Take off everything except for your boxers and wait on the bed. If you touch yourself I won't even sleep in the same room as you let alone fuck you. Understand?" Mason's mouth dropped wide open and he could only nod as he practically ran up the stairs.

You weren't sure what to do while you waited by yourself, but you wanted to tease him to the point it could be considered torture, just like he did to you. And it was as if a light bulb went off in your head as you figured out exactly how you were going to do that.

You made your way up the stairs, and to your surprise it seemed like Mason had perfectly followed your instructions. "Did you touch yourself?" Mason vigorously shook his head, but that wasn't enough for you. "I can't hear you baby. I asked you a question. Did you touch yourself while you were waiting for me?" The blush that covered his face was unlike anything you'd ever seen before, and you swore you'd never seen him so hard in his Calvin's before. "No. No I didn't." He whispered. You could tell he was embarrassed, while he wasn't normally super aggressive with it, he was generally the dominant one and he'd never been this vulnerable with anyone like this and you hadn't even started. "Good boy" You unzipped your dress, leaving you in nothing but a lacy thong as the dress had an open back, meaning you couldn't wear a bra. You felt nervous yourself, you weren't sure how Mason was going to react and you were scared of making yourself look stupid but judging by the groan he let out at the sight of your bare chest you were doing something right.

You took a deep breath before sitting on a chair that faced the bed. He shot you a confused look "baby what are you doi-" "I don't remember telling you you could speak, do you? You've pissed me off tonight, so I'm getting my own back." You ran your hand briefly over your boobs and down your stomach before sliding it into your underwear. You dipped down to gather some of your wetness onto your finger before circling your clit. You moaned out Mason's name and you could tell this was absolute hell on earth for him. "Please baby. Please let me touch you. Or myself. Or please you touch me I just need something" He whimpered, grinding against thin air. You let out a louder moan as you slid a finger inside yourself, and you saw the frustration that took over Mason's face. You watched as he began to stand up, but you interrupted him. "Uh uh Mount. I'm the one in charge tonight not you. Lie back down or I'll tie you down to that bed and make myself cum over your face before leaving you on your own. If you're good, the amount I've time I'll make you wait before I touch you won't be as long, understood?"

Mason lay back down straight away. You decided to be nice, so you got up and made your way over to him. You put your fingers up to his mouth and he sucked on them instantly, moaning around them. "You taste so good." You dragged your other hand over his nipple before trailing it at an agonisingly slow pace down his stomach before you finally reached where he wanted you the most. He moaned loudly just from you brushing your hand over his dick. You pulled your hand from his mouth. "Are you gonna be good for me? Gonna do everything I say?"

"Yes. I promise. Just touch me please."

You shuffled lower so that your face was inches away from his dick. You pushed one of your hands into his boxers as you stroked him gently and his head fell back immediately. "Look at me. Do that again and I'll stop completely." His head shot up immediately as he tried his hardest to maintain eye contact. You pulled down the waistband of his boxers and he lifted his hips to help you.

When you saw just how hard he was, you almost felt sorry for him. Almost. Precum was already dripping down him. "Please" his voice was barely above a whisper. "So desperate and I've barely done anything. Bet she couldn't do that could she?" Your tone was firm, and you knew the answer straight away. "No. Only ever you". He whimpered as you pressed a delicate kiss to his tip before you dragged your tongue from the bottom to the top of his dick. His hands instinctively went to your hair, you swiftly pulled off him. "Keep your hands at your sides" his hands grabbed the sheets instead, nodding.

You began to kitten lick his tip before taking all of him into your mouth. The sound he let out was sinful, and you were drenched. His knuckles turned white immediately as his eyes half shut. He was trying desperately to do everything you said, and your heart softened at that. You pulled off and stroked him with your hand instead. "If you really can't keel your eyes open then you don't have to" you said softly before taking him in your mouth again and his eyes rolled back instantly as his head hit the pillows. His pants a desperate noises grew louder and louder and his knuckles turned whiter, and from the way he was twitching in your mouth you knew he was nearly there. "Fuck I'm gonna cum soon. Can I?" You pulled off and jerked him off to gain your breath back, "I think you've been good so far. Yes you can baby." You continued with your mouths actions as you massaged his balls with one of your hands and soon enough he came in your mouth with moans that were pornographic.

But you didn't stop. You carried on with the exact same pace and his whimpers only got louder as he writhed around under you, wanting to get away but still feel the overwhelming pleasure at the same time. "Y/N, fuck I can't. It's too good" He whined. You smirked around him and went faster, determined to make him cum a second time. Soon enough he was nearly there "fuck m'gonna come again. Feels so good." He moaned your name out like a prayer as you felt him finish in your mouth again. You pulled off and began to stroke him slowly with one hand, the other reaching up to his cheeks and wiping a tear that had escaped his eye. You spat on his dick, deciding to make him finish a third time but instead with your hand.

You sped up the actions with your hand, grateful that you could use your mouth to speak to him. "You gonna be a good boy and cum again for me baby?" He nodded, unable to speak, the only sounds coming from his mouth were loud moans and whimpers. "Bet she couldn't make you feel this good could she? Only I can." He nodded, "only you. Oh god I'm gonna cum again." He simply twitched in your hand, too drained to do anything else. You gave him a small break, leaving forward to kiss him gently before pulling away to let him get his breath back. "You're just so perfect. Always make me feel so good." He whispered. You simply smiled at him and kissed his forehead. "Can you do one more for me baby?" You cooed as you locked your eyes with Mason's. His cheeks decorated with a delicate blush, his pupils wide, his hair and forehead damp from the 3 consecutive orgasms you'd given him. He nodded, desperate to please you in any way he could. "Use your words baby." Your question was a mix of both consent and teasing, when Mason was at your mercy you loved repeating the phrases he used on you. "Yes. Yes I can."

You moved onto his lap, straddling him. You leaned into his ear, "if it's too much and you want me to stop then just say the word love." You pressed a kiss to the side of his head as he nodded before lowering yourself onto his length, both of you moaning in unison. You gave yourself a few seconds to adjust to his size, despite you being the one in control Mason always had an effect on you that you couldn't quite describe.

You began to move up and down slowly, still teasing Mason as he let out the most delicate whimpers. "Please don't tease me baby" He whined, bringing his thumb to your clit to rub it in a desperate attempt to make you move faster. "You gonna be good for me if I give you what you want?" Truthfully you needed to move yourself, not feeling him but watching him and hearing him made you insanely desperate for him. "Yes. Always just please move." He stuttered out, letting out an extremely loud moan when you began to bounce up and down. "Fuck Mase you feel so good" you moaned out, the angle hitting the spots deep inside you that made you cum almost instantly. Mason couldn't even speak, the pleasure he was feeling was overwhelming and you almost came right there when you saw his eyes roll to the back of his head. His moans and groans became hoarse as his whimpers and panting took over. "Fuck fuck I'm gonna cum baby" He whined, amazed that he'd managed to string some sort of sentence together as his knuckles turned white from the grip he had on the sheets. "Go on Mase, let go for me baby" you moaned out, knowing you weren't that far off yourself. He bucked his hips up to you a few times, letting out moans louder than anything you'd heard from him before and his eyes began to water. You felt him release inside you, with you following shortly after as a wave of pleasure washed over you. "Fuck fuck fuck". You fell onto his chest, both of you giggling lightly as you both tried to get your breath back.

You climbed off him, Mason whimpering as you did. You whispered a quick sorry before you lay on your side and he turned over to look at you. You brought a hand up to stroke his cheek. "Are you okay?" You smiled, knowing he'd probably never experienced something so intense in his life. "Yeah, I think that was the hottest sex I've ever had in my life." His cheeks still had a light tint on them, and you couldn't resist making the shade deeper. "Never heard you make noises like that before." Much to your amusement, you'd succeeded as he hid his face in your neck. "Don't hide. I thought it was hot, knowing that I can make you feel that good." You smirked. He moved his head so he was face to face with you. "And only you. I'm sorry about earlier, she just wouldn't leave me alone and I thought if I made one little comment she'd leave me alone." He said sheepishly, but you knew he didn't really mean any harm by what he'd done, he was always going to be going home with you in the end. "I know, anyway I've let all my anger out now. Hope you think twice next time."

"If I get again then I might have to flirt back with girls in clubs." His confidence coming back again, no longer feeling embarrassed about the fact you'd seen him more vulnerable than anyone else ever had. "You can always just ask, I'm more than happy to hear you sound like that again." You teased, connecting your mouths. There was no intent to do anything else, mainly because you knew Mason was more than likely incapable of anything else. The kiss was simply a way of showing your love to him, and that he never needed to be embarrassed around you because you would always love him no matter what. He was yours and you were his, always.

[kynimdraws]

INFO POST

Name: Kylee (they/them). 30+

A totally normal Korean American mostly known for my drawings, specifically my Pokemon nuzlocke comics. But I will talk about other things on occasion because I do have periods of being fixated on certain topics. I also am a doctor!

Interests: Pokemon, League of Legends (everything except the game lmao), Fire Emblem, Advance Wars, Animal Crossing, Mother series, Korean history/culture, character design

General FYIs: 

General inquiries/commission work/etc should be sent thru kynimdraws [at] gmail [dot] com! Tumblr messaging/asks/etc is not 100% reliable

I will not follow NSFW accounts but I am fine talking/interacting with them. There may be suggestive shitposting but I like keeping my content on the SFW side

I am VERY picky about who I follow/interact with online. Fandom content in particular is a minefield for me aka I have many things I dislike and don’t want to see, even if it might be a popular thing in media that I otherwise enjoy. Therefore, I will unfollow/block/mute liberally. There are times I accidentally block a blog bc I mistake them for bots. So if you got hit with that, just send me an ask or email me

I am very open about what I like and dislike, and none of those things are a direct attack on your sensibilities. I have never gone out of my way to directly send hate or whatever have you if I end up seeing shit I don’t like. My complaints in my little online space ain't a personal attack on you.

My ask/submission box/DMs  are open for criticisms if you have any issues you want to resolve in private. No one is perfect and I may have done ignorant shit that needs to be pointed out. I have deleted or edited posts in the past if people tell me what I did wrong. PS I get that some of my stuff may upset you, but try to act civil when pointing shit out please.

I try to tag all my things whenever I can. Again, send me a message if anything bothers you. I am all for good debate but if you send me excessive hate or threats bc I have different opinions about matters that are trivial, I will block/delete them.

If you wish to use any of my hcs, please credit me. And if you are comfortable with it, send me the works so I can check them out! Or @ me if that is easier.

---

FIRE EMBLEM FYI: Specifically for 3Houses/3Hopes because I need a separate one for this franchise specificially given how many crazy things I got due to being involved in this fanbase via my fanworks:

DO NOT try to convince me to like or tolerate Byleth/student ships, ESPECIALLY the ones with the lords (aka CIaude, Dimitri, EdeIgard). I already summarized why I don’t like FE3H Byleth ships with student chars here. While the spinoff game FEW3H has now removed that teacher/student problematic situation, the fandom keeps putting the FE3H elements into the FEW3H fanworks (i.e. remembering Byleth from “another life” trope)...so no thanks!! DO NOT SHOW ME IT!!!

As for the Byleth ships with faculty members, my response is here so don’t try to bait me about that topic either thanks.

I do not care whom you ingame S-support. 3Houses limits the dating-sim part of the game to that character, so I cannot care less about how you play the game. The main issue I have is when people treat Byleth the “character” as a legit ship material when I personally think they are a cool character ruined by fans who are too obsessed with badly executed self insert otome tropes bc they self-project super hard onto them. Just to be clear, any FE3H or FEW3H OC/Canon >>>>>>Byleth ships personally. Even Byleth-sonas that remove the teacher/student aspects are better than canon FE3H!Byleth

Please don't drag FE VA statements as some sort of “gotcha” on my opinions like this post here. IDC what other people prefer with ship shit, that’s their problem and not mine. I am not gonna bother them about it. So don’t bother ME about it.

---

Links to check out:

Myths of Unova + Episode Grey (Pkmn White/White2 Comic)

Tales of Sinnoh (Pkmn Diamond Comic)

Art Site (Portfolio)

Twitter 

Instagram