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hoseoksluna · 2 months

Text

BLUR | myg ft. jjk

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

genre: smut

word count: 17k

summary: one encounter with both of the males heals you enough that you don't become anything but joy.

pinterest board: blur

warnings: dom/sub dynamics, marking, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, cuckold kink, toying with the idea of polyamory, daddy kink, punishment, nipple play, oc gets triggered, face riding, ass play, male masturbation, multiple orgasms, use of butt plug, raw sex, cum eating, clit rubbing

note: i want to thank oc. i've always wanted to pinch jungkook's nose and i got to do that through her. LMFAOFSJLDKFS ANYWAYS—this is the LAST part of the steam series, whoop whoop. finally. this took me so fucking long to write and idk if it even makes sense, which is why i need you guys to let me know everything that you're thinking, feeling, hating, loving. I NEED IT. so pls, send me asks. spam me. thank you. ENJOY READINGGGGG. ₊˚⊹♡

A thin layer of sweat coats your hairline. And inside your skull, momentarily, there aren’t any thoughts—none, whatsoever. They have been swept aside as the feverish evening wind carries your boyfriend’s words through the aroused energy pulsating around your naked form. Around Jungkook’s, too.

Yoongi is still the only one fully dressed. And, adamantly, he’s taken the role of a watcher, shifting the dynamic in such a frantic way that the sole impulse that you find opening within you like buds of tree flowers is to obey. To submit to the role, externalize one that will fit it. To play along like he did, when he caught onto your scheme.

Even though you don’t know how to particularly go about it.

And when Yoongi walks over to the armchair in his living room, plops down on it, angles his head slightly to look at you and waves a hand towards the couch across from him, inviting you to sit, your nescience claws at you. Brutally.

You don’t know if there are any shadows thickening in his headspace because you deem there must be a reason behind his sudden decision to turn things around. He’s been okay with every practice done so far in the playtime—he validated all of them, was in charge the whole time until he gave that control over to Jungkook. You can’t help but worry if there perhaps isn’t a catch.

And the lower your disquiet sinks inside your gut, the higher your distrust of yourself springs, lodging in your throat. You’re not sure anymore if you’re right about anything. What if there is something you’ve done that you completely overlooked in the middle of your pleasure? In the middle of Jungkook’s pleasure?

Once you exchange a heavily-charged look with the puppy, you hope to find a hint in the tenderness of his eyes that would help you figure it out. Though, the more you deepen the scrutiny, the more you’re met with absolute blankness.

He’s as clueless as you.

Bewildered, mostly, that Yoongi let him have the upper hand.

Your finger itches to hook around his, but you only angle your head in the direction of the living room, dubious to listen to your body, intentionally wary. You make the first move and you don’t sit down on the couch like Yoongi motioned you. No, you sink your knees into the space beside his on the armchair, the leather creaking beneath you. Wrap your arms around his shoulders. Study the depth of his gaze as he focuses it on your face, looking for the hint, for anything that would lead you to it. Bury your fingers into his night-tinged hair the way he likes it, the way you like to do it, too. Pull it a little to make known to him that you’re bubbling with uncertainty.

Yoongi merely watches you, borrowing his friend’s stoicism.

You click your tongue, disliking it. “Yoongi,” you drawl out, cupping the sides of his neck, willing his attention to be more of an intimate sort. Just you and him. You need to talk to him about this. Need a peace of mind in order for you to enjoy this. In order to please him in the process as well.

He turns his head behind him, though. To check the whereabouts of his friend. And when you follow the same direction, you discover that his dining space is empty.

You don’t detect any panic in you. Perhaps it’s due to the fact Jungkook never abandoned you before. Or perhaps you’ve healed to the point that it doesn’t bother you anymore, no matter who does it. And what’s more, you think he probably went to pee.

With two fingers on his jaw, you turn his attention back to you. Leave them there. His lips curl up as he tries to purse them, his stoicism fragmenting. Eyes gentle, moonbeams swimming. The sight is so endearing to you that your own mouth mirrors his, butterflies awoken, fluttering their wings in your tummy. This is the man you love. This is the man that’s yours. Yours, only. And you’re alone, intimately, cordially. Just like before.

“Is something the matter, honey?” He tips his chin, irises dilated and looking up at you. Latches his hands onto the fleshiness of your thighs, just below your hip bones.

With your inhale of breath, you muster as much courage as you can. “Have I done something wrong?”

Perplexity writes itself on his softened face. Could it be—

“No, why do you think that, hm?” He narrows his eyes at you playfully, tapping his fingers on the side of your hips. You exhale a breath that loosens your worry a little bit and your mouth rounds. He leans in to peck it. “You’ve been perfect.”

Have you? You’re not so sure—on the contrary, what you’re sure of is the fact you can better yourself. You have to, in order to make your worries dissipate all the way.

And you can fulfill that if you know what role to play.

“Tell me what to do.”

One corner of his mouth tugs ever so slightly to the side and one brow quirks in confusion. “You’re about to get eaten up. Enjoy it—that’s what you are to do.”

You sigh, realizing you should’ve worded it better. That’s precisely what you want to do—enjoy it, but you can’t risk getting lost again. Can’t risk getting submerged. You need him to tell you who you are to be in this new dynamic he established and you don’t want to hear that you should be yourself. If you relax your boundaries, you’ll step into a dangerous territory—and you’ve been there before.

So has he.

“Yoongi, no, I meant—”

He squeezes your muscles. “Don’t be afraid. I’m here, you hear me?” he murmurs, one hand coming up to your hair and curling it behind your ear. And it’s these words that unwittingly, little by little, drive you to drop your own hand, your guard and your worries. The fact that he doesn’t even want to hear your better wording, too, because he understood you the first time. It guides you to think it’s not worth speaking out, not when he evidently knows better.

And it feels nice. To have someone intelligent enough that they know. To have someone care enough that they don’t let you immerse yourself in doubts because they know the type of shit your thoughts consist of sometimes. He remembers everything you unraveled during the therapy sessions. And that feels nice. More than nice.

Your mouth rounds again and you repeat it after him. To acknowledge yourself with it. To swallow it so it streams down your body, where its meaning can unfurl. “You’re here.” Your voice is subdued, unsure, the words foreign on your tongue. You knit your brows while you taste them, unable to identify the flavor. That is until you realize it could offend him. You relax your features right away.

But Yoongi merely watches you with a sympathetic look, one that makes you feel terrible for reacting the way you did.

Not for long, though.

“I know I’ve made a mistake in the past, but that’s not happening again. I’m not leaving you on your own this time,” he says and you realize that is precisely what you needed to hear, what your body needed to consume first in order to recognize the flavor of his reassurance. You caress his face in deep emotion and you try again.

“You’re here.” It’s a mere silken sound for only the both of you to hear, but it matters—it’s enough, it’s perfect. In the distance, you hear a shuffling of feet in the kitchen, the song of the wind gaining momentum, inclining to listen to the expression of love between you—to be a witness of the right thing being done at last. And you can taste the sweetest wine of the ripest of grapes, spiced with the most vibrant of roses. You can taste home; his stability you can lean on.

Yoongi smiles in your grasp, noting the way the words sounded different—more secure. The moonbeams liquify in his waterline. “That’s right. And because I’m here, I’m not letting history repeat itself.” He pinches your cheek, knocking your head back and forth with the well-meaning, ferocious movement. Erases completely the lingering presence of the guard and fears you’ve dropped. You laugh, softly, relieved—so fucking relieved. Joy fills your empty body, energizing you, roses rising in you. Your roses, the ones you know, fraternizing with the unknown flowers that Jungkook planted in you. And you discern that it’s you who’s in your comfort zone, in your safety zone. The males have stepped inside theirs and now you have. You inhale fresh air in your new lungs, exhale your relief. “Say it. So I know you understand.”

“You’re here and you’re not letting history repeat itself.” Beautiful, beautiful words—beautiful consolation and kindness. A pillar of the most exceptional magnificence. Mentally, you rest against it, rest your enfeebled, exhausted body of all your needless worries and false thoughts.

You didn’t do anything wrong. Didn’t make a mistake. Though, if it weren’t for the weak moment, you wouldn’t be here. Wouldn’t have gotten the comfort you didn��t know you needed.

So peculiar, the newness. It dawns on you that it should’ve been like this in the beginning. Healthy conversations, reassurance. Why hadn’t you done this? Why did you jump headlong, bringing along such darkness of—

You close your eyes fleetingly to shut down those thoughts. Forgetting is taking place. Newness is here. Old is gone. Like the verity that he’s here, you repeat it to yourself again and again in your heart. You can’t change what’s happened. You can only move on with the eternal perception that you’ve changed, that you’ve learned. And that’s enough.

You brush your thumb upon the column of his neck. Back and forth, like he did with your cheek. Thankful for him. “You’re here and you’re not letting history repeat itself.”

Yoongi isn’t puzzled you whispered it to yourself again. In fact, he embraces it. Kisses you tenderly, deeply to seal those words. They spread roots in you. Rake through the earth so the roses, the flowers can grow healthily, happily, luminously. You feel them lean into the satin touch of the butterflies that elongate their dusty wings before they curl the membranes around their radiant petals, forming a protection circle. A dose of healing you didn’t expect to receive. Not from him, not now—not now when you’re about to be eaten out by his friend.

It’s so surreal to you. To feel protected like that. To feel safe. Safe to now roam freely in your undiscovered sexuality because you have someone to look out for you, to possibly guide you back if you lose your way. The stability that envelopes you—you can’t bear it; it’s too good to be true. And when you take a deep breath and those roses tremble with excitement in you, in the circle, there’s nothing left for you to do but to accept it because it’s so strong, because it’s unyielding. You couldn’t move it even if you tried. It won’t let you—it’s here to stay. Here to be alongside your boyfriend, protecting you as you venture out on your perverted adventure.

You’ve worked hard to get to this point. And now you get to reap what you’ve sown.

Yoongi grins after the long kiss, proudness emanating out of him and you feel like weeping. You’ve done the right thing, for the very first time. “That’s my good girl.”

The praise does something to you. Stirs you violently, magnifies the intensity of the flapping of the butterfly wings in you. Sends back feeling to the ache between your legs, propped against the linen of Yoongi’s pants. Throbbing, slapping, memories of what has been done to your pussy—you’re a meadow of wildflowers and you’re ready to be pleasured again, however you register a matter that pulls you away from this notion for a moment.

There’s no catch.

Because Yoongi created a new realm for both you and Jungkook with his sense of safety and comfort, there’s nothing for you to fret about. There’s no role for you to play. And, furthermore, who you are meant to be upon this ground is who you’ve been throughout the whole trajectory of your relationship.

A good girl.

Only this time it’s entirely different.

You didn’t want to be yourself because, if anything were to backfire, you thought you’d have the responsibility for it. In addition to that, you thought the normalcy of your sexual life was a no-gone zone for Jungkook, which is why you’ve been racking your brain, trying to come up with ways you could differ it, so Yoongi wouldn’t get jealous.

But things changed so drastically that because Yoongi took control, now you don’t have to be in charge of that. You’re not the artist, you’re not choosing colors for the palette. Yoongi is.

There’s still one more thing that doesn’t add up. And you voice it out. “If you’re not letting history repeat itself, though, why are you letting Jungkook be in control?”

Yoongi grabs your hands and holds them. “I’m letting him be in control of how he does what I tell him to do. I’m in control of the whole situation, honey.”

You suck in a breath. To protect himself, he won’t make the same mistake again; that’s just the person Yoongi is. He’s allowed Jungkook to have the freedom of a bird in the pleasure he wants you to receive from him, but he won’t hesitate to ensnare him if he runs up against something he doesn’t like.

You find that immensely, immensely attractive.

Hot.

The pillar of stability, the warmth of reassurance, the absolute fucking boss—that’s your man. You lid your eyes, swearing, leaning forward to suck onto his lip, kissing him with utter desperation and he lets you. Lets you kiss him. Lets you show him how much you liked that. Growls when your hand creeps to his neglected, clothed length and squeezes it. Hums when you feel him up until you find his tight balls. Responds to your touch—bucks his hips so you focus on them more and you go mad. Interminably, mad.

And when you swirl your tongue around his, you feel a cold, wet hand on your back.

The magnet to your madness. The healer stands by the side of the armchair with a dew-sprinkled face and there’s a feigned, playful jealousy that you feel when you regard him, for the only dew you want on his face is one that’s your own. He washed up in the bathroom—you reckon he did it to cool his desperation, to cool the sweat of arousal that lines his skin, much like yours. You note that it didn’t work, at least not fully, because when you roam your gaze down, you discover he’s still painfully hard. Much like your boyfriend.

You wrap your hand around him and the forbidden, exhilarating feeling of having two cocks in your grasp is too brief for your liking because Jungkook pulls your hand away again. Holds it and leads you towards the couch. You frown at him with a puckish smile, but while he tugs you away, you steal a kiss from Yoongi. A hard, quick kiss that makes him twitch—something that you get to feel before Jungkook grabs you by your pits and throws you on the couch.

You let out a string of giggles, loving the feeling of being manhandled; loving the feeling of Jungkook being in desperate need to eat you out. Your face heats up, your body following suit, the ache between your legs worsening. Yoongi smirks, validating your enjoyment and he adjusts in his seat, which you think is dismal. You don’t want him to be neglected. You want him to be pleasured, too.

The words tumble out of you before you can think them over. “Can you touch yourself for me, baby?”

Yoongi licks his lips. Pauses before he responds. Tortures you like he tortured Jungkook. You spread your legs to provoke him, giving him a show of the shine on your folds. It’s enough for him to palm himself briefly, as if he lost control for a split second. He takes his hand away and places it back on the armrest. “I’ll consider it.”

The boss at play. You swear, closing your legs to squeeze them, to give yourself some sort of relief from the ache you feel. Butterflies go rampant in your tummy, but despite the buzzing tension, you feel content, safe and utterly elated. Happy.

You expect Jungkook to say something, though he merely props a knee on the leather of the couch and spreads your legs how he wants them. He doesn’t lift them, only parts them as far as they can go. You go to grab his length again because you feel a certain magnetic pulling to it, but he catches your hand in time.

“Behave.” He presses your hand firmly to emphasize his scolding before he lets go. Such a stark contrast to the playtime of before. You remember how he wanted you to do the complete opposite. To misbehave. Your body heats up even more, the fire compulsing your hips to sway, asking for attention.

Another set of words tumble out of you unwittingly and you place your hands under your thighs. “I’m sorry.”

The surprise that floods Jungkook’s features is overwhelming to you and in response, you grin, coyly. He strokes the adorable fat of your cheek. “Good girl. That’s what I like to hear.”

You purse your lips and before the fire of that praise can lick your whole body, Yoongi speaks up, too. “Good job, honey. You learned your lesson so well.”

Shock comes first, then fire—vibrant blue fire that scorches you whole. You blush, deeply, squeezing the leather of the couch—the praise and the validation from both males so profuse, so profound that you can’t take it. You hide your widening grin beneath your palms. “Stop,” you drawl, the sound muffled and soft, even though you don’t want them to do anything of the sort.

Jungkook coos, pulls your wrist away, uncovering your rosy, glowy face. Then, he pets your head, fingers sinking into your hair. He forces you to look at him, to see the smile of endearment that bathes his face in light, but he does it so gently that you purr, his hold so stimulating, so titillating—his countenance so lovely, so darkly angelic. Eyes crinkled but still round, still so tender. “Who taught you to have such good manners, huh?”

You swipe your tongue along the top arc of your lip, his gaze flicks to it and and the answer thrums in your belly warmly like a sip of a good wine. It doesn’t unnerve you, doesn’t make you afraid. In fact, it’s so tranquil and so right that you relish every syllable. “Both of you did.”

The rays from the light side penetrate the dark one and healing takes place. Healing that you never thought you’d ever be a witness to. You know that the act of forgetting was supposed to fully sink in all three of you, but your words diverged its path. You swallow warmth and you swallow relief, watch as Yoongi gets up from his seat and mirrors Jungkook’s position, one knee on the leather, hand under your jaw. A soft set of tears rush in at the attention and the realization of what’s actually happening, and when the healer sees them, he lets go of your hair and brushes his thumb across your brow, hand spread across the side of your face. You lean into his palm, so terribly emotional, and when Yoongi plants a delicate kiss on your cheek, your chin begins to quiver. He felt it, too. Felt the gravity of those words that now dulcify his intention to make things right this time. And he kisses you again, prolongs the peck, as if to thank you for your goodness.

When Yoongi lifts his head and bores his mellow gaze into you, it is the same relief that you’ve swallowed that you see saturating his face in effulgence. At last, it has come for him, has come to live in him. At last, it’s here.

You’ve done it, all three of you. Healed from the pain.

Jungkook knits his brows at the sight of the first tear plopping down onto your skin as if it physically pained him to see you cry. And before you can register the movement, he swipes the liquid emotion away and kisses the residue of it, as if it were fate itself that wrote it was meant to pour down on the right side of your face—for Jungkook to collect, for it to seep into his fingerprint.

So much love. The air is thick with it. Your lungs tremble as you take a deep breath. The wind billows in and out, but doesn’t carry it off—intertwines its translucent body with it instead, bringing in a fresh gust of briskness into the atmosphere. No more tears stream down your cheeks; you smile at both of the males—the healer and the boss.

Yoongi remains standing beside you. Takes your hand in his. Says a myriad of silent words of great importance that you cannot decipher as he exchanges a look with Jungkook, who merely nods at them in plain understanding. You don’t have to wonder long what was behind it. Jungkook turns your jawline to him and kisses you softly. Doesn’t let go. Prolongs the kiss until he whimpers onto your mouth, softened, too, by the healing that occurred. No tongue, just the warmed silver of his lip ring, the smooth tenderness of his mouth and the most affectionate emotion exuded into the kiss.

The pop of the withdrawal is all you hear. You keep your eyes closed. Feel him take that kiss onto your neck, your collarbone, to your sternum. Feel the tightening of your boyfriend’s grip around your hand as Jungkook drags his lips down your tummy, where the healing vibrates and he says hello to it with his tongue, makes it feel safe. Feel the tightening compulsion to watch him as he does it and you obey your body.

Jungkook is kneeling before you. Brows furrowed, expression so terribly serious as he understands how significant this part of you is. Sinks his whimpers into your skin while he sucks it and it’s only when you run your fingers through his silky hair that he looks up at you. And the sight of his wet eyes breaks you.

He’s as emotional as you.

Your throat constricts. If it weren’t for him, none of this lively beauty would take place—and if it weren’t for Yoongi, too. It is their work of art and you’re the one doused in colors of most resplendence. And you tell them, your body urges you to, while you squeeze Yoongi’s hand and caress Jungkook’s hair. “I’m so grateful for you both.”

The healer whimpers again, letting go of your skin, leaving behind a purple memory of this heartfelt loveliness. His tears don’t escape the confinement of his waterline—he blinks them away. Blinks them even more rapidly when Yoongi places a hand on Jungkook’s bare shoulder and he gapes at him in disbelief—in disbelief that his closest friend is touching him with such gentleness after everything. You don’t allow yourself to think of the past, of the last violent touch that you saw, but you can’t help the emotion rushing in your eyes. You let go of Yoongi’s hand to clasp the one on Jungkook’s shoulder, deepening the love.

And you press a loud, exaggerated kiss on Jungkook’s forehead to make him laugh—like he did that one time by talking about his worm. To distract him, if there are perhaps any overbearing thoughts in his mind.

Now his disbelief is directed towards you. Mouth parted, wrinkles between his brows. You burst into laughter and it triggers his. Yoongi’s, too. It’s your breasts that bounce now and none of the pairs of eyes flick to it, fixed still on the glamorous gracefulness that blossoms out from your face. Jungkook shakes his head, cheeks awash with redness, irises glinting with a spark you’ve never seen before, and you consider your job done. He tells you to lay back down, but his grin lingers.

Yoongi takes your hand back in his and you perceive that he needs it, that he needs to hold you. You smile at him, fluttering your lashes, blowing him an air kiss, and he nudges his nose against yours to remind you to enjoy this. You begin to prepare yourself, taking a deep breath—

It hitches in your throat harshly. Jungkook kitten licks your clit with deep pressure, just once, lifting his head to watch your reaction. The reverberation of the pleasure causes you to moan and he smirks at you—what’s worse, he winks at you, so terribly smug that he coaxed such sound like that by one lick and it makes you tremble, needing more. He can see it, but he tortures you, keeping his hands on your thighs.

And when Yoongi reaches behind himself and sinks your headband with yellow kitty ears into Jungkook’s hair, you’re done for. You must’ve left it there when you were doing your makeup. Jungkook doesn’t acknowledge it, however. Too drunk by his first proper taste of you to do so, glossy eyes transfixed by that flesh of yours.

It suits him so well that you coo at him, grasping his neck to pull him back to your cunt, but he doesn’t let you. Your heart begins to thump with hard beats and you grow desperate, whining, looking at Yoongi to make him do something.

He merely smiles at you. “Be patient.”

At his words, Jungkook lifts your legs and begins to focus on the back of your thigh, marking it, groaning against your skin, inhaling your mango scent. He roams his tongue all over and you whine louder, finding it so unfair that you have to wait for it, that he reinforces your neediness by those hard kisses and sucks, by his sounds, breaths and control. You grind your hips, the ache between your legs made unbearable by your helplessness and Yoongi stops you by placing his hand on your lower belly.

“Did I not tell you to be patient? Be good,” Yoongi scolds, lowly, rubbing the place in slow circles. Your whine is bratty, but you nod your head, pouting, halting all your movements, becoming still like the wind that has come to stay and observe the unfolding of your daydream.

At your submission, Yoongi creeps a finger to your wet clit, testing you. Doesn’t do anything beyond that and once he sees you’re well-behaved, he plunges the same finger into your mouth, giving you a taste of Jungkook’s saliva. You mewl, sucking it. The healer watches the act in deep thought, your skin in his mouth, and you’re certain an idea flashes in his mind.

Jungkook straightens to his full height, proving you right and the feeling is utterly gratifying. Reaches behind him and grabs the tall glass filled with water that you never noticed he put on the coffee table. Yoongi withdraws his digit and inspects his friend’s doing with curiosity. Jungkook takes a small sip of it without taking his gaze off of you, tips it to your mouth right after and you realize he did it more so it wouldn’t overflow, as you take a well-needed sip of your own, rather than to refresh himself. That is until he does something that completely shocks you, ripping away your delightful proudness of being proven right.

It is something between a yelp and a moan when the coldness of the water drops onto the skin of your chest, scattering it with tiny, pellucid pearls that almost pool by your violent heart. The demo before the full game; your breathing gains as much speed as the throbbing in your clit. Jungkook inclines the glass again, holds it as a longer, thicker trail trickles down your body—from the middle of your breasts, across your tummy until it reaches your cunt. And the contact of the liquid with the hotness of your swollen seashell? You groan, rolling your body. So much that you slap your hands down on the leather, gripping it with all your might, needing something stable to hold onto, to release your pent-up desperation.

Amused, Jungkook sets the glass down and kneels back down. Licks a long, torturous stripe from your clit up to those pearls, following the path he mapped out while zeroing his stare into yours. You part your mouth, your madness closing around you again, puffing out short breaths and subdued, desperate moans and when Jungkook closes his lips over your neck and begins to suck, you turn your head towards Yoongi and roll your eyes back. Struggle to keep them open as you feel that muscle of his tracing patterns on the sensitive skin and Yoongi knows. He knows how good it is for you and he kisses you like he means it, mimicking what his friend is doing around your tongue.

Your sounds grow in volume. Your desperation, too, in intensity.

“Please.”

Jungkook emerges from your neck but wraps a hand around it, nonetheless. Is as close to you as your breath, his nose bumping into yours. He squeezes your column firmly before he curtly turns your jawline away from Yoongi. You wonder if he can feel your heartbeat under his forearm, if he can feel how desperate she is for him, too—in a way you don’t understand. “Please what?”

He opens your mouth wider and spits.

Shock comes first like a thunderbolt, spreading across your veins, paralyzing your body. Then it blurs into a tumultuous arousal that seizes you whole, that makes you beg for more. No one has ever spat in your mouth, not even Yoongi. You’ve never liked it in porn, but experiencing it first-hand gives it another meaning. The dominance, the absolute film of lustfulness caking his face, the estimable seriousness that wafts off of him. He’s turned you into a boneless putty, his putty, and you want him to do it again.

“Spit in my mouth again, please—please.”

Jungkook grunts. Shadows surround your vision as you narrow your eyes in sheer pleasure at his sound, biting your lip to cage in your worsening desire for him—but he saves your lip, pulls it away from your teeth and opens your mouth wide. You ogle him as he sloshes his saliva in his mouth above you before he taps your tongue, signalizing you to stick it out for him. Once you listen, he spits hard onto the muscle that waited for it. You moan, satisfied, swallowing it right away and showing him.

He pokes his own tongue in his inner cheek, fire blazing in his as equally narrowed eyes, the act of spitting in your mouth making him beyond fucked out. You can sense it deep in your core and your obsession with it grows.

“You’re filthy, but so good. It’s making me lose my fucking mind,” he says, hazily, fingers squeezing your throat for a heartbeat. The momentary lack of oxygen gives you a perfect demonstration of his words and the moans you let out are so breathy, so choked out that he takes your madness and makes it his own—loosening his grip and kissing you nastily, licking into your mouth, both hands traveling south to your breasts and kneading them harshly, pressing your nipples between his fingers.

And when you utter the words rising vehemently in your throat, he takes the demonstration to otherworldly levels. “Thank you, Daddy.”

Jungkook cocks his head at you and drags his teeth painfully across his bottom lip, swearing. His eyes darken, at last. Thrill sizzles beneath your skin and you feel an upsurge of adrenaline, the aftertaste of the title so sweet, so delicious on your tongue. “As if you didn’t deserve it already, I’m gonna take you to heaven for that.”

You laugh softly, brushing your fingers through his hair, anticipation joining the adrenaline. “You like me calling you that?”

He hums his agreement and you don’t feel Yoongi, you don’t even feel his hand; your vision, surroundings, persona blurring so rapidly. “Daddy’s gonna make you feel so good. All you have to do is come for him as many times as you can. Thank him that way. Is that clear?”

You shiver at the use of third person. Never thought you’d find it as alluring as you do. Brush your thumb across his brow like he does it to you. He coos, kissing your hand, sinking his body lower. Touched by the gesture. “Yes, Daddy. That won’t be too difficult for me to do.”

Jungkook gives you a smile that envelops you in an aura, where it’s just you and him. You don’t have the brain cells, nor the will, the desire to stop it. “That’s a good girl. On her best behavior for us.”

It wakes you up and the feeling of Yoongi’s grip on your hand returns, the circle of the aura withering. Disappointment descends in your gut, one that is soon forgotten when Jungkook sucks your clit into his mouth.

The squeak you let out would be embarrassing if you weren’t so out of your mind, but the confidence it came out with, the seductiveness and beauty—Jungkook shows you how much he liked the sound by humming against your sensitivity, the appreciation smothering every fiber and nerve ending of your body, hoisting you up towards the canopy of clouds. He swirls his tongue around the flesh, sucking deeper before he opens his mouth wider and licks you all over, closing his eyes and moaning, reveling in the feeling of you, the scent of you and the warmth of you. He toys with your lips, chuckling in delight when he acknowledges himself with them, burying his mouth completely in them, kissing them, caressing them with the puffiness of his pillows.

He’s pussydrunk—and the sight of it intoxicates you just the same.

And then he pauses. Kisses your clit. The peck so ardently earnest that he sucks it in the process. Does it again and again until he tinges your femininity in the faintest, daintiest, most dreamiest tone of red, prettier than any flowers you’ve ever seen—so akin to the wash of color scattering along his cheekbones. Then, he rubs his face in you, vigorously, moaning against you so intensely that your sounds become one.

Raising his head, features drenched in your dew—just like you wanted it—his chain taps your cunt in long staccatos. The pleasure is so dizzying, along with his looks, that you feebly jump at every contact. It reminds you, vividly, of the spanks you like so much. “Pussy so fucking wet and pretty for me. I’m gonna destroy you.”

It’s only at this time that you hear Yoongi smug but quietly laugh. He draws close to your ear and his hardened breath steals your attention from his friend’s praise. “He makes me wanna taste you, too, and make you come repeatedly on my tongue. Fuck, honey. I want that so bad.”

You mewl, about to burst at the seams, unable to take the double relish given to you from both men. Yoongi latches his mouth onto your neck, causing your eyes to roll back, and it sparks up some kind of competition in Jungkook, for when he dives back in—you scream.

The flicks of his tongue are so brutal that your lungs heave. You take many breaths but you can’t catch them, the heat from Yoongi’s kisses and the rapidness of Jungkook’s movement numbing your body to the point that you’re rendered powerless.

Jungkook alternates between fast flicks and long swipes from your entrance to your bundle of nerves, parting your lips so he can have easy access. And being spread like that, attended to by two males that you have strong attachment to, the kitty ears bobbing up and down as Jungkook devours you—your orgasm chases you down, the knot in your lower belly pulled so taut that it takes a mere heartbeat for it to snap completely.

And when you come, Jungkook laps you up, grunting in insatiable need for more. Your body violently shudders, but he keeps going, widening his swirls of tongue around your clit before he rubs it with the tip of his nose and—

He begins to fuck you with his tongue.

You don’t feel anything. Not your heartbeat, not your struggling lungs—just the hard jabs of his tongue inside your hole, pushing you closer and closer to paradise. Not heaven, you’ve been there, but to something beyond. A paradise of the warmest color and sunlight, swaying trees and a pool of the most refreshing water.

And Yoongi’s noise of joy is the bird that flies past in that place, dipping to its reflection. “Daddy’s so good he’s giving it to you better than I ever did.”

It’s those words that make you come again.

He laughs, fondles your nipples, holds you steady as Jungkook prolongs your orgasm by strenuously sucking your clit and you sob hard, tingling all over, senses gone, everything gone. You feel so lightweight, so airy, dopamine and oxytocin making your head all fucked up. Happy, satisfied.

Jungkook withdraws, kissing your clit one last time, licking it slowly. “You came so hard for Daddy, well done,” he praises, mouth wet, face as colorful as the meadow of flowers in you, gleaming iridescently. “But I’m not done with you.”

You moan, wanting more, badly. Take him by the neck with both hands and draw him closer to you, the chain stimulating your breasts. You kiss him hungrily and the taste of your dew causes you to let out such obscene sound that Jungkook and Yoongi growl simultaneously. Dulciness, with a hint of piquancy that makes you even hornier—the slipperiness of his mouth making it worse. “I want to ride your face. Please, please, let me.”

Jungkook smiles at you, pecking your lips, faintly. Cocks his brow at Yoongi. “You’re gonna give the princess what she wants?”

Your eyes follow the sharp line of his jaw and you bite your lip. Don’t think twice about taking that skin into your mouth, licking it over, watching as Jungkook closes his eyes at the contact. Musk, the forest, wood—you carry your still lingering hunger and unravel it upon the spot beneath that strong jaw, devouring that scent of his, aware of how his breath lodges in his throat. You mimic what he did to your clit there, enjoying every second of it, enjoying his reaction as he hums and thumbs your clit, waiting for Yoongi’s approval.

And you quicken it by begging for it, squeaking little sounds, beckoned by that slow motion of his digit. “Please, Yoongi. I want it so bad.”

Badly enough that you force your head away and look at him. As much as you thought there would be puzzlement to his face, what you detect is far more sinister. His smirking mouth tells you that he is simply pleased with the way you’re begging, with the way he gets to torture you. And not just you, but Jungkook as well. Ego high—his control at full play. You don’t blame him, not at all. It must be delicious to him in the middle of all this healing.

“Ride him well, make me proud.”

The joy springs in you so fast, but you don’t have the time to take in it. Yoongi gets up from the couch and you apprehend that you were very, very wrong.

You haven’t healed to the point that it doesn’t bother you when Yoongi leaves.

Your panic is so enormous that you rise, your movement so rigid that Jungkook stumbles, his arm quick to wrap around your chest, pulling you back onto the leather beside him. And you don’t see the twist of his brows, the deep clefts of his dimples while he scowles. No, you watch your boyfriend’s back as he makes his way to the dining table, your heart expanding in your throat.

“Tell her at least where the fuck you’re going,” Jungkook grumbles, ever the healer who senses your emotions and the fact he stood up for you like this makes you mouth merely round, your otherwise triggered trauma unsettling the rest of your feelings.

Yoongi returns a moment later with the butt plug and lube in his hand and with a solemnly guilty face. Kisses the top of your head in apology, but it’s not enough. Not when you can’t hear your heartbeat. Not when you can’t swallow. Not when your mind is so numbed by the recurring panic that you cannot even hear your mind.

“Don’t do that to me,” you whisper, but the words are firm, piercingly sharp, important and gravely, so much that Jungkook, with sticky hands by his sides, stills next to you.

Yoongi cups your chin, a dominant gesture, but you glare at him—masculine strength being the last thing you need right now. You may have foolishly thought your healing was complete and as much as it knifes you to be proven wrong, it’s the fact you expected more from him that hurts the most, especially after he promised you he’d be here. But maybe it’s foolish altogether, to be in hidden demand of him to tell you of his whereabouts, notably when you never voiced it out for him, not once during the therapy sessions, not once during the course of this perverted adventure—the matter of the gravity of your abandonment issues.

You point your anger at yourself and fall to a dark, dark abyss.

And you pushed yourself there on your own because you were incapable of reminding yourself of Yoongi’s reassurance, mind too blurred, too fucked out to remember.

“I’m sorry, honey. I’m still here. I never left you.”

You nod because he’s right. “I know now. I didn’t remind myself. It’s my fault.” It’s as much of a surprise to your ears as it is to Yoongi’s. He widens his eyes at your honesty before tenderness swims past. “I’m really sensitive right now.”

Jungkook rubs circles on your back with his thumb and you welcome his touch, his warm energy.

Yoongi caresses your face. “It’s okay, it’s not your fault. What we’re doing here is pretty overwhelming. But I’m here. I got you.” His words hold the same firmness that yours did and it’s difficult for you to grasp how they’re mending you, how they’re swooping that darkness in their arms and flinging it away from your reach. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Not one thing. Let me make it better for you, hm? You want me to make you feel better?”

Emptiness plummets down your body, in place of the darkness and the anger, and the moonbeams in his eyes engulf it, filling it with its pale light. All you can do is nod, too weak to express any other form of affirmation.

Yoongi kisses the place on your cheek beside your ear, slipping inside his words. “Good girl. The best. I’ll make you feel better. I’ll make you happy again, my love.” You sob at the pet name, at the tenderness, at the comforting feeling of Jungkook’s hand on your arm, pulling you back so you lean against his chest, participating in your healing. The round valley of his tattooed bicep nudges you in your cheek as he cages you in and you nuzzle your face into it, hooking both of your hands on his forearm. Musk, forest and wood suffusing your senses, along with a strong dose of safety. “That’s it, lean against him like that. Daddy will help you forget, too. Spread your legs for us.”

You do as he says, needing what he’s promising you—needing it from them both. Maybe then, when it’s from such a vast source, will you get your full healing.

Yoongi squirts a good amount of lube on his fingers, smearing it on your pussy. The coldness of it enlivens you and you lean your head back against the hardness of Jungkook’s chest, pressing your lips against his bulging muscles. And when Yoongi begins to massage your clit in slow circles, the healer tightens his hold around you, hand gripping your shoulders, the other one gliding down your tummy and staying there. Nipples pebbled against his forearm, breasts full and squished, your form safe, tucked, pleasured in the whole enormity that he is—you relax, giving yourself over to the delight of your boyfriend’s fingers.

He sinks two of them inside you, stuffing you to the brim and pausing there. Jungkook sneaks his towards your bundle of nerves, resuming the circles, breaths hot against your scalp, gaining pleasure from pleasuring you, especially so when your healing is the primary goal behind it.

And when Yoongi begins to fuck you, his hand drops from your shoulder and settles over your tit, pinching your nipple between the knuckles of his thumb and forefinger. You cry out and it drives your boyfriend to pump his digits harder—to the point that you can’t see the in and out motion, the pace so fast it becomes a blur.

“Let go, honey, come on, let it go for us,” Yoongi murmurs, putting his whole body into his intention; you would move along with him, too, if Jungkook weren’t holding you so tightly. “You feel so good around my fingers. So tight, so wet. Such a good girl, getting what you deserve.”

Jungkook quickens his circles, gruff groans muffled against your scalp. “You can do it, sweetheart. I know it feels good when we touch you like this.”

Your body drips in sweat and only when Yoongi agrees, pistons his fingers faster into you do you fully let go. Your anger, your trauma, your darkness leaves you in the form of your dew and Yoongi collects it in his hand. Doesn’t stop fucking you, in fact encourages another one and you spill until your wetness overflows from his hand. Eyes rolling back, hips lifting, legs spreading even further apart. Both men praise you, but you can’t hear them—your senses silent.

They come back to you when Yoongi licks his digits clean, swallowing your pain. Doesn’t waste time and turns you around, your sore, sensitive body colliding into Jungkook’s. And like him, he dives into your pussy, licking you clean, not having enough of your darkened taste.

You’re so out of it that you can only focus on the brush of Jungkook’s hand down your hair and the overstimulation that seizes you, that you can’t do anything about other than take it. “Coming so well, so many times for us. You feel better?”

You can’t answer his question, not when Yoongi begins to trace your tiny, virgin hole with his tongue, giving you a new kind of pleasure that you’ve never felt before. Your eyes whisk to the back of your head and Jungkook cradles it, understanding whooshing past his eyes—understanding that you can’t speak, not when you’re experiencing something so extensive. He smiles down at you, squishing your cheeks. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Fuck, you look so pretty.”

Your choked out moans are enough of an affirmation for him. He coos. Then, a squirt of lube. A finger slowly going in. A gasp, a warm breath that Jungkook inhales, feeling it with you. The uncertainty in your eyes that he instantly smooths out. “You can take it. You’re such a good girl, why wouldn’t you be able to take it? Just relax. I got you.” He kisses your nose and you want to weep in joy, so overcome with it all.

Per his reassurance, your round muscle relaxes and sucks him in. And when he begins to fuck you, you can’t contain your sounds. So lewd, so dirty, and Jungkook emboldens you by scrunching up his features, groaning with you, taking breaths with you. You give in, entirely, feel another orgasm coming, but Yoongi rips it away. Wants you to come around the thicker toy.

The coldness of it makes you tremble, although the hunger both of the males awakened in you for it drives you to move your hips back, helping Yoongi insert it in. It takes a few tries, a few ins and outs before you welcome in it, before the fullness enthralls you so much that you become even needier, even more confident and seductive.

Yoongi presents you to his friend, but each movement you make causes you to be more desperate than you’ve been the entire sultry night. Everything is heightened—every touch, every enjoyment of praise, every sliver of attention and all you want is to be fucked. Brutally, ravagedly fucked.

To absorb the sight of you as you’re positioned on your hands and knees, Jungkook begins to make love on the skin of your behind with his tongue. You feel every word of apology compressed into it. For every bruise, for every red splodge, for every acute pain caused, no matter how much you enjoyed it in the moment. It’s just between you and him, shielded by the premise of desire stirred by your adorned tiny hole. And you keep it that way, whimpering for him sweetly, validating it for him. Tucking it safely into every chamber of your heart.

Then, he strokes the flesh, replacing the bad memories with good ones—replacing the past with the present time. Lies down between your legs and pushes your hips down onto your face.

And you ride him. His tongue, his nose. Fondle the kitty ears askew on his head. Let his moans envelop around those chambers of your heart, protecting them. Let his eyes seal your scorching, enchanting femininity with all its spirited confidence. And once he pacifies the grinding movement of your hips and takes control, palming your breasts, lips sucking your clit, tongue toying with it, you come in seconds that are not pathetic in nature, but outright exhilarating.

You lean back against Yoongi, out of breath. He wraps his hand around your throat. “What do you want now, honey? You want to get fucked?”

You hum, the idea clutching your body in tight excitement. “Yes. Badly. Please.”

At your words, Jungkook begins to tug at his length and the needy movement reverberates throughout your entire body. You coo at him, enjoying the view and you get on your knees in front of the couch to watch him, inhaling his sounds like he did yours.

“You want us to take turns? He stops, as if he was seconds away from coming, and you wrap your lips around him, letting him know how much you like the idea—at which he trembles, pulling you away. You grin at him in pure joy. “Like the sound of that?”

“Fuck yes. Please. Both holes.”

Jungkook hisses, round, dark eyes rolling back for a split moment, losing himself—thumb swiping across your mouth once he comes back. “Daddy’s so fucking needy for you. Come here.”

He manhandles you. Like a child he carries you to the dining space and bends you over the table. You turn your head to see where Yoongi is and he slowly swaggers towards you and Jungkook, popping his button open and pulling out his length. Tip red and painfully swollen, length long and hard—longer than you’ve ever seen it—balls tight. And when Jungkook begins to fuck you sluggishly with the butt plug, you grip the wood of the table with all your strength, fingertips white, and watch as it drives Yoongi to fuck his fist.

The same fist he cups under your chin when he reaches you. “Spit.”

And you do—at the same time that Jungkook forces out the silver toy, tongue immediately coming to whirl around the stretched muscle. Like before, as Jungkook fucks you there, Yoongi fucks his fist. The sounds that spill out of all three mouths are simultaneous, creating a harmony fitting just right for the paradise you find yourself in. It’s such a vigor that he eats your ass with—he does it much differently than Yoongi. Hungry and feral, he again buries his face in your ass, squeezing the flesh, before he drills the muscle with fast, strong jabs. You can’t see anything, the pleasure so intense, so darkly intense and heavily pressured that your vision remains perpetually in the back of your head. Your orgasm closes down upon you swiftly, at once, when he rubs your clit with all four fingers, not expecting it at all as no flashes danced across that night-doused canopy of nothingness before your eyes, no body heat nor pressure rose. Jungkook secures your release by slipping the butt plug back in, smacking his mouth in delight. You slump against the table, boneless.

Jungkook takes your arms and pins them behind your back, angling the hot tip of his cock at your entrance. “You ready for this?”

Your yes is but a tweet.

Jungkook hums, breaths hard. “You want this cock?”

This time, your yes is a louder screech, vibrating through the whole apartment.

“Hm, I’m gonna stretch you out for him. Make your hole nice and big for all the cum we’ll dump you with. You’re gonna take it all like the good girl you are, aren’t you?”

Both of your holes, your muscles, your organs clench at his words and you can’t halt the litany of vulgar words and agreement from pouring out. His grip around your intertwined forearms is deathly and when he fills you to the brim, tip kissing your cervix, walls stretching around his thick girth little by little and gives you a singular, hard stroke that shakes the table, you scream so loud that the sound echoes around the room, carrying it out into the feverish night.

Your words are jumbled, a perfect mess, and it takes more than a few tries for you to get them out coherently. “You’re—you’re giving me all of it?” you ask, because if there’s more inches for you to take, you’ll die.

Jungkook chuckles, darkly, lips at your ear, his body heat enveloping yours like a chunky blanket. Sneaks a hand to your hip bone. Sinks a little deeper until his pelvis touches yours, his heat spreading into all of your pores. You gasp. “I’m giving you every.” Thrust. “Fucking.” Thrust. “Inch.” Thrust. “And it’s all yours, sweetheart.”

You’re breathless, weak, and it’s a slow crescendo, the way he begins to roll his hips, the way he straightens and the fresh wind goes for the imprint of sweat of your and his origin on your back, cooling it, though he rips the briskness away almost instantaneously, repeating his hard stroke, the table banging against the wall. Doesn’t give you the time to prepare.

“Can you take it?” he asks, along with that dark chuckle again. Your hands begins to tingle due to the way he’s gripping your wrists, your blood at a standstill. “Can you take us both, huh?”

Brutal thrust. Just what you wanted. He takes you by the throat and presses you against his chest, kissing you with such vulgarity that you moan into his mouth, the fullness you feel only heightening it. He grinds in response, hands descending to your breasts, kneading them, pinching both of your nipples between his knuckles and thumbs. “Pretty fucking girl.”

You whine.

He withdraws, then. Motions over to Yoongi. The loss disappoints you.

A man of his word, Jungkook stretched you enough for Yoongi to easily slip inside you to the hilt. You expect him to give you a few strokes before giving you over to his friend, and you prop your hands on the table to ready yourself for it, for Yoongi’s hunger as he’s the only one who hasn’t felt any pleasure over the course of the adventure.

But Yoongi only grips himself and pulls out.

A thicker length. To the brim. A slender one. And they repeat it until all you can hear is the madness of their aroused laughter, their grunts and their pants. Hands all over you. The feeling is so overwhelming that everything becomes a blur. You don’t know whose hand is touching you, whose mouth is kissing you, whose cock is drilling you, senses ascending to a place beyond the paradise—

And then you feel both of their tips toying with your abused hole, acting, feignedly—drawing in and out, never fully penetrating.

A short-lived moment that causes you to forget who you are.

“Oh, god,” you drawl, slumping against the wood, helpless. They continue to take turns in fucking you fluidly, the symphony of your slick so loud, so filthy to your ears. You’re numb to the point that you don’t peep a sound, disoriented and so adrift in the place beyond paradise that they took you to.

Jungkook takes control once he hears your call for help. Begins to piston his length inside you rapidly until stars take shape across your vision, wrapping a forearm around your neck similarly to the way he did in the middle of your healing, digging crescent moons into your shoulder. Stops your head from knocking back and forth furiously. You feel his sweat drip down his pelvis—and with each hard thrust, its pearls jump over to your skin, trickling down your trembling legs. The pressure in your core is but a heartbeat away from bursting. You sense it—and you sense it vehemently.

“Are you gonna come around my cock or around his, hm? Whose is it gonna be, sweetheart?”

Your body answers him for you, your walls tightening around him so resolutely that Jungkook stills, whimpering onto your neck. You come so hard that there is absolutely nothing else that you hear but that whiny sound—and all you can see is the stars gaining vibrant colors to their pointed shapes, various, various colors that blind you. Colors that, like you, get dumped with hot, ivory, thick cum.

Your orgasm triggered his.

You mewl like a little kitty cat, so pleased that he came in you, so pleased that you felt it, that you felt the twitching of his cock. Pleased that when you gape at him, you can see how spent he is, content and illuminated like those stars.

You want to lick him up. You want to taste that glow on your tongue.

His cum drips out of you when you turn around. Jungkook collects it with two of his fingers and pumps it back inside you. The look you give him is almost predatory, so awfully fierce that he grows faintly timid, post-nut clarity cocooning him in a soft aura, bringing his puppy nature back to him.

You sit back down on the table and spread your legs for your boyfriend, but your gaze remains fixed on him. Blindly, you reach for Yoongi’s hand, drawing him closer, and he happily obliges your silent command. Lines himself up at your entrance and pumps Jungkook’s cum deeper into you.

You let the puppy see the exhilaration springing up your body, tugging the corners of your mouth to each side. The glint in your eyes. The pure joy that you feel. Then, the falling of that expression as it blends into a depiction of your pleasure—furrowed brows, pout, narrowed lids. You don’t take your eyes off of him. Not even for a second.

In fact, you curl your fingers in beckoning. And when he comes to you, you lick a stripe of the sweat coating his defined abdomen, tongue rolling around the valley of his hard muscle. Kiss the skin before you suck it into your mouth, moaning when Yoongi goes all in—fucking you with all of his energy. The taste of his glow only betters the experience, but you don’t think you can come again. You enjoy it, nonetheless.

And when you turn your attention to your boyfriend, deeming he deserves it—Jungkook steals it in typical fashion. “Feels good?” Light, much bigger than yours, covering his eyes. You nod, humming, girlishly so—the sound pitched. “You’re gonna come again? For him?”

You consider it an impossible task, but for him you’ll do anything. “I’ll try.”

Jungkook makes a sound of approval, leans in and kisses you gently. Yoongi turns your chin to him and as soon as your lips touch his, you feel his cock twitch. Unlike Jungkook, he fucks you through his orgasm, groaning loudly into your mouth and you reach to the place, where you’re connected and squeeze his balls, wanting his cum, needing it.

And when Yoongi emerges from his bliss, he smiles at you, breathing out a soft laugh. Features relaxed, drowsy. You give him a smile, too, the same tiredness engulfing you.

Slinking out of you, you discover he came so vastly that his male essence trickles out of you. You graze a finger across your slit and you gather so much of it that as you take your hand towards your mouth, it plops onto your stomach. You giggle, high on the hormones released through your body, high on the happy males watching you, high on life—high on rightness. The joy doesn’t even let you wrap your lips around your finger, adamant on showing them how well they gratified you by keeping them stretched in a dopey grin.

They’re so endeared by you that the same expression graces their faces. Exchanging a single glance, they start at once—picking you up like a child. Yoongi by your legs, Jungkook by your pits and it’s him, the healer, who leads the way to the bathroom, walking backwards hurriedly.

Though promptly, when putting you down, your legs are so sore, so weakened that if it weren’t for their arms, you’d fall onto the tiles. Giggles and obscenities are swallowed by the crooning sound of the streaming hot water in the shower and you sigh so deeply once it touches your skin. It alleviates the ache of your muscles, alleviates the throbbing memory of the last time you were under that burning cascade—especially when Yoongi twists your body, making you face Jungkook; especially when he says the words that quicken your heartbeat.

“Wash her clean.”

Making things right. Erasing that afternoon that ended in blood and bruises.

The wet, puppy eyes you give to Jungkook are enough for him to do as Yoongi says, mirroring your mien, greatly affected by the permission, by the act of something so forbidden untangling its inextricable knot. It happened so suddenly that he doesn’t truly believe he’s allowed to do it, hands shaking by his sides, clenched into fists. It is only when Yoongi begins to shampoo your hair that he’s spurred to do something.

And you help him. With a thudding heart and tight emotion lodged in your throat, you hand him your favorite almond-scented body wash. He doesn’t tear his gaze away from you when he spreads the aroma on your sternum. Doesn’t blink once, doesn’t let his eyes wander south to your body—as if it was sacred, as if it was not meant to be looked at with lust in this intimate scenario.

And you don’t feel fire when the heat of his hands glides down your neck, your shoulders and your arms. You feel something else entirely, something you can’t really pinpoint. Something holy, something so immensely heavenly. Maybe it’s brought about by the fact that he doesn’t touch your intimate parts—not your breasts, not your vulva. The only time he comes near to it is when he leads you into his chest and carefully, while peeking down, tries to pull out the forgotten toy. You sense Yoongi’s hands on your backside, watching over, and the feeling of being rid of it is so uncomfortable that you cringe against his pec, squeezing him hard, hugging him with everything in you. Jungkook makes gentle sounds for you, encouraging you and it relaxes your body enough that it lets go of the toy.

Grabbing your shoulders, he studies your emotions. Sees only your same old tiredness and he pecks you, descending onto the tiled floor to cleanse you of your stickiness. Isn’t grossed out by the male essence that isn’t his. Kisses your trembling muscles on the apex of your thigh. Cradles your foot, massages it. The other one, too.

And when Yoongi rinses out your shampoo and the bubbles of your almond body wash, Jungkook tells him, gravely, “Wash her where she needs it.”

You’re so touched by the fact he doesn’t dare to lay a hand there in a non-sexual environment that it doesn’t leave any space for shock to come through. Your finger itches to hook around his, but you take one step further—you slide your hand into his. And like a child, you let yourself be washed in between your legs as Jungkook, like a father, watches over it.

Once you’re clean, the males take their turns. You observe the bubbles, the white foam, their veined hands gliding along their glistening bodies and, alternating, you touch them, helping them in a way. Touch the love bruise upon Jungkook’s abdomen; touch the indistinct happy trail on Yoongi’s. Rinse them off.

Needing to be held, you guide Jungkook’s hands to your waist and fold your arms around Yoongi’s shoulders, but both males think differently. Squishing you in the middle of them, they hug each other, each head buried in each crook of your neck. You feel their hearts beat as one and it nearly lulls you to sleep, its healing beauty soothing you to the point that your lids become heavier. And the three of you stand there, in a cozy, homely embrace, until coldness wraps around you, too.

They let you do your thing on your own.

Once you come out of the shower, Yoongi kisses you and asks you if he should bring you any clothes. You merely shake your head and he leaves it at that, following Jungkook out of the bathroom.

You lather your body in your mango butter in your aloneness. Blowdry your hair. Do your skincare. Note that there aren’t any thoughts in your brain, just deep, content silence swimming around with happy hormones. You’re so grateful for it that you could weep.

To bed, you wear your newest purchase. A pink lacy camisole with matching bodycon shorts. You slide your feet into your fluffy slippers and as you make your way into the living room, you hope with all your heart that Jungkook hasn’t left. You haven’t exchanged many words after the sex and because of that, you knife yourself with the expectation to find only Yoongi lounging around in the sitting area.

Midwalk, you bind it all into a loose braid. Don’t use a tie to seal it. Merely flip your hair back—with the futile wish it would untangle.

And it does when you find the males smoking on the balcony with the door wide open. Jungkook, fully dressed in the outfit he came in. Yoongi, wearing his pants. You let out a quiet breath of relief, stooping to the ground to pick up your robe and the cheese ball, a dreadful twinge in your lower body alarming you. And then, you notice that someone folded your little sheer outfit neatly on the chair.

“I wasn’t able to touch her after you,” you hear Yoongi say, the wholeness of the starry night plating his low pitch. You still your breathing, the perplexity from his words forcing you to whisk your head in his direction. “All I saw was my shortcomings… and—and I didn’t know how to please her anymore because you showed her new things. I felt less than. Unable to be the right person for her sexually.”

Your heart shrinks so much it pains you. Yoongi never told you these things during the therapy sessions. He mainly spoke about the sexual moments at the cabin, but never about the ones after, never about what truly bothered him on his healing journey. He bottled it up. Your throat fills with bile.

“Has what we did tonight changed that?” Jungkook asks, shoulders tense. “We practically did the same things and she was more than pleased.”

Your heart grows back to its full size at the positive mention of you. You rise to your full form, flinging the cheese ball into its empty bowl before folding your robe. Your ears perk in waiting for his answer.

“I think so.” The bile sinks back down, along with the pain coated with sadness. “I also think we should do this again.”

Your mind doesn’t allow your body to exult, knowing the reason why he said it.

He wants to either finish the hidden healing or… check if it has come to an end.

The tension doesn’t ease in Jungkook’s shoulders. “Only if you work hard and focus on her. I’m not consenting to this if you only touch her with me being present.”

Silence in your heart—a skipped beat. You don’t want to hear any more of that conversation. You put away your robe and grab the dishes, washing them in the sink.

No matter how much dish soap you use, you can’t scrub away the healer’s magic off of your hands. It pelts under your skin, to and fro, over and over as you repeat his words in your mind. Gives strength to your fingers as you hold the unusually heavy plates and bowls, the tiredness a hefty burden on your shoulders, weighing you down.

Such a good man. You’re so grateful to know such an extraordinary being like him. A good friend, the best you could wish for Yoongi. A good lover, too—

“I think it’s way bigger and deeper, this relationship and how I feel about it. I can’t help it—” Jungkook’s voice no longer a far-off murmuring, he halts his words at the sight of you. Calls your name. “I thought you were asleep already.”

You turn off the tap water, ignoring the question in your body about the incomplete sentence he uttered while being under the impression you were beyond hearing distance. Think you’ve learned and come about plenty enough of things tonight. You want to go to bed. With both of them.

You don’t say your reasoning behind why you’re here. Deem it’s pointless. “Let’s go to bed.”

You reach out your hand for him, but it is only the wind that encases your palm. You drop it.

A chaos of shoulds and desires swarms in him. You can see it, vividly. “I should go home.”

You’re having your way, you don’t care. “No. Stay.”

Jungkook calls your name again. Yoongi licks his lips, smiling, fondly. Walks towards you and grabs your hand, leading you towards the bedroom. The puppy stays fixed on his feet, not comprehending that you want him to sleep in Yoongi’s bed and not on the couch.

You raise your hand again for him. “Come, you’re sleeping with us.”

Jungkook has gone commando under his jeans. You eye the sliver of minimal hair on his pelvis and before you can ogle his worm, he cups himself.

Unabashedly, you click your tongue in disappointment, even though the recollection of your private decision to have his boxers as a keepsake, approved by him, suffuses your exhausted body in delight.

You get under the sheets, right in the middle, watching as Yoongi hands him his gray sweatpants to wear, holding your breath when Jungkook turns around and you gain a perfect view of his round, toned ass.

You’re certain that man will be the death of you.

Yoongi crawls into the bed, nuzzling into the crooks of your body that he knows well, cuddling to your arm. You hear him inhale the scent of your shampoo. “You smell so good.”

You stroke his forearm with your fingernails, transfixed by the way the waistband of the forbidden pants hangs low on Jungkook’s hips, by his slow, seductive walk that you don’t particularly think he’s doing on purpose. That’s just what makes him him, which worsens it all.

In similar fashion, he lays down beside you, but he doesn’t turn to his side as your boyfriend has done. No, like you, he rests on his back, hands by his body, touching you without meaning to. His warmth environs you, but you notice that a good half of his body isn’t covered by the sheets. You fix it right away, tucking him in—tucking the fabric right under his chin.

He gives you a strange look that makes you giggle. “You want me to burn?”

Oh, men and their body heat. You’ll never grow tired of it—it’ll forevermore fascinate you.

You shush him. “Sleep.” Pinch his nose, deepening his funny scowl. “Goodnight, sweet dreams.”

Yoongi begins to purr beside you and you know he’s halfway on his journey to dreamland. You lay back down, hip to hip with both males, hands on your tummy, your eyes languidly fluttering closed.

A hand on your thigh. You open them fleetingly, surprised at the contact, before they close on their own.

“I’ve missed his purring,” Jungkook whispers, thumb brushing across your smooth skin. Just once. “Haven’t heard it in a while. It’s better than brown noise.”

You laugh, softly, agreeing with him in your heart. Submit to the call of your own dreamland and you turn to your side, facing Yoongi, propping the back of your hand under your chin.

But then Jungkook folds into your form.

Mirrors your position. Arm around you, hand relaxed on the mattress an inch away from your tummy.

It makes you feel funny. It makes you wild, your body gaining the tiniest tendril of energy. You curse him, mentally, although you don’t mean a single word.

You feel his gentle breath fanning the nape of your neck. Along with it arrives the need for him to touch you. You purse your lips, burying your head deeper into the pillow in effort to shake that off and focus on relaxing your body—

“Hyung?”

He hums in response. You curse him, too.

“She didn’t come when you fucked her.”

Your eyes fly open. The audacity this man has—

Tense, tense nothingness. It thrums uncomfortably under your skin.

“Lemme make it right.”

Radio silence in your heart, its profound waves shaking through your entire body, tearing off its drowsiness.

“Okay, Jungkookie.”

Your gasp is so minimal, yet Jungkook feels it. He presses his palm against your stomach, pulling you closer to him. Yoongi turns to his other side, as if giving you the privacy for what Jungkook wants to do to you.

Reposing halfway on his back, halfway on his side, he maneuvers your form to mirror his position. And for the longest time, you both just lay there while Jungkook brushes his fingers along your clothed body. Back and forth, in circles, in peculiar patterns that soothe you. You thought you’d fall asleep this way, but the touches keep your body awake, promising it things in a silent language that it so evidently wants.

And it isn’t until Yoongi begins to snore that you perceive Jungkook waited until he entered his deep slumber. The breath you let out is loud, absorbed by your boyfriend’s much bigger ones, but it makes Jungkook hold your jaw steady as he draws his lips close to your ear.

“I didn’t like that he used you,” he whispers and his words fill your body with something foreign, something that drives your brows to knit, your muscles to clench, for butterflies to stir awake, although you disagree with him. Yoongi didn’t use you. You don’t really think he did. When you motioned him to take his turn, you expected to come again, but your body was so spent that it wasn’t able to do so, which is completely okay in your opinion. “If I fuck a girl and I come first before she does, I don’t stop until she creams all around me. Even if it hurts.”

You remember him pushing you away when you wanted to keep going after he orgasmed. “You don’t like to be overstimulated, though.”

He snickers again, softly and lowly. “And yet I don’t stop.” Both hands on your tummy, he glides them down, towards your hips, towards your thighs before he drags them back up. Lifts up your camisole this time around, getting a feel of your skin. Rubs circles. “I want to make you come like you deserved to. Can I?”

“I came a lot of times. I don’t know if I can.”

Jungkook caresses your bottom lip with his thumb, angling your jaw towards him. “We can try and see if you can.”

We. He kisses your cheek and you pout in his hand. Brain turned off, too numb by all the orgasms, the attention and the affection you’ve received, you take the other one and slide it beneath your shorts. Feel an onrush of freshness in your lungs when he whimpers at the contact of your lips with the pads of his fingers and you move your hips back against him, gaining another sound of similar nature that willingly tempts your madness to return to you.

He’s hard.

You grind your backside against his thick imprint, loving the feeling of it, loving the soft noises he makes as if he was trying to stifle them, but you were making it awfully difficult for him to do so.

“Don’t do that or I’ll cum in Yoongi’s pants.”

Your laugh is feral. Quiet, gentle. An oxymoron that could only belong to his name. To his art. The idea of him coming in your boyfriend’s pants drenches you and he gasps once he discovers it, teasing your entrance.

“You want me to come like this?” he asks and you hum your agreement, his fingers ascending to your clit, stroking it in slow, slow circles. His breath hardens in tandem with yours and he swears. “But I don’t and you will listen to me.”

He pulls out his hand and you whine, catching his wrist, bringing it back where it belongs. On your clothed, now swollen clit. You grind your hips with more fervor, just to work him up, just because you enjoy it and he fists the material of your shorts, stimulating you with the seam, dominating you through and through.

You merely beam at him, illuminating the room, fisting his cock. “Don’t stretch out my new shorts.”

“Don’t provoke me and we’ll reach an understanding,” he retorts, swirling his tongue around the bone of your jaw before he kisses it. Responding to it, you grind your pelvis back, angling your hips so his cock fits just right in between your cheeks. He tuts in disapproval, shifts a little bit more to his side nonetheless, pulling you flush to his body. “No, other way sweetheart. Grind your pussy against it.” You try it, placing your hand on top of his, unsure and he helps you, guiding your hips with his, grinding upwards, as if he was fucking you. You mewl at the pleasure permeating your veins and with his free hand, he clamps your mouth shut. “Yes, that’s it.” He tightens his hold on your shorts, hoisting it higher. “Feels so good like this, doesn’t it?” You nod, your noises loud, only slightly muffled by his clammy hand. He shushes you, breath hot against your ear. “You gotta be quiet. We don’t wanna wake Yoongi up, do we?” You shake your head ‘no’, squeezing your hold on his hand. Jungkook lets go of your shorts and slides beneath them again, fingers spreading your new arousal on your clit. You squeak again, terribly sensitive and turned on, bound in his arms. “I told you to be quiet. Do you know what happens to girls who don’t listen?”

You’re glad to hear he didn’t add “to me”, for some deranged reason and for that, you don’t peep a sound.

“They get punished,” he answers for you and you can’t stop the moan from escaping your throat, the idea of getting punished by him again making you utterly, utterly delirious.

He strains his fingers around your mouth until it hurts, but that’s not the reason why you draw it away. You do it so you can speak. “Teach me a lesson, please. I need it.”

You wish you could see his reaction, but the darkness keeps it to itself. You can only hear the sharp inhale of breath he takes—and you can feel the twitch of his cock against you that divulges to you that he’s gone mad just the same.

While silence takes place, he drags your shorts down to your thighs, the tight cotton preventing you from spreading your legs. He moves you so you lay on your back and from this position, you sense Yoongi’s body heat and the lift and fall of his chest, though he still remains facing you with his back. Jungkook lifts your camisole until your breasts are exposed. And then, he props the back of your head on his bicep, clamping your mouth back shut. He looks down at you and you can only slightly make out his features. The glint of his lip ring irradiates him. Mercifully.

You want to kiss him so bad.

“How does Yoongi punish you, hm?”

The question shocks you, coaxes out a string of your arousal to drop down your clenched thighs. Whilst he waits for your answer, he grazes his palm down your sternum, your stomach, your mound. Leaves it there.

It’s your body that responds out of its own will, not your brain. You can’t, for the life of you, think. He allows you to speak. “With his words. His cock. And… with pussy spanks.”

Jungkook hums. Puts the covers out, revealing you to himself. “Show me how he spanks you.” Your hand trembles as he lifts it. He brushes his thumb across your knuckles while he places it on your cunt, taking control of that expression of nerves. Wraps the other hand around your throat.

When your fingers collide with your clit, you hiss in sensitivity. Decide you will only show him this way. You can’t take any more. “Like this. Gently, but firmly. So it doesn’t hurt. He doesn’t like to cause me pain.”

He exchanges your hand with his and spanks you. With bigger firmness than Yoongi ever used. You arch your back, not expecting it with your dumb brain. He pinches your right nipple between his knuckle and thumb, making you moan softly, not having enough and enveloping it with his mouth, sucking briefly before he swirls his tongue around the nub. Your wetness rushes out, along with your noises that you’re just so incapable of stopping. You grip his hair on the back of his head and in response he flicks the muscle. Your hips buck, asking for attention.

Jungkook withdraws, stares you dead in the eye. “I’m punishing you for making a sound and yet you do as you please?”

You swear, eyes wide. “I’m sorry.”

He spanks your clit. “Sorry what?”

Remembrance flashes through your mind. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“Hm, that’s right.” He rubs your clit rapidly. Spanks it again. Your moans come out in strained breaths. “That was for the curse word. Say you’re sorry.”

But then, you can’t help but mewl at his fatherliness. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

He pecks you, deeply. For the title, for your good manners or perhaps to silence you—you don’t know. “How sorry?”

His fingers find your clit again, strumming it, lips moving against you in a passionate kiss. Your brain malfunctions. “So sorry,” you whisper onto his mouth, gripping his hair.

He spanks you, softly, for pleasure, then continues. “You won’t say it again?”

“No.”

A sound of approval. “Good girl.” He sinks his middle finger inside you as far as your restrain allows him, fucking you slowly. The pressure of delight begins to build in you. “One more?”

“Yes, please, Daddy.”

Ring finger joins in, instantly. “Such a good girl. I love hearing you say that.” He jackhammers into you a few times before he stills, thumbing your clit. The fullness, the stimulation on your most needy part—it’s enough to make you come and you feel it chasing you again, nearing and nearing. “I want to fuck you like this with my fingers and have that toy on your clit. The one we used the last time. Keep the setting low, so it wouldn’t wake him up.”

A curse word rises on your tongue, but with the last brain cell you have—you swallow it down. You’re tiptoeing before the edge, knot tight in your tummy, pressure so enormous, and you tell him. “I’m gonna come.”

He lifts his thumb. “Hold it.”

You panic, faintly, standing still before the edge, face to face with your orgasm, close, terribly close. “I can’t.”

Jungkook shifts. “You will.” Bends you in half while keeping his fingers inside you, mouth latching onto your soaked cunt.

Takes control of your orgasm as he begins to toy with it, building it little by little with sluggish circles on your clit with the tip of his tongue. Then, he wraps his lips around it, nibbling on it and resumes the movement of his fingers, fucking you steadily.

The pleasure is so new, so different that you feel as though you’re levitating in heavenly places. You grind your hips against him, meeting him, but briefly. When he sucks your clit, he stills your motions and spreads shakes across your entire body. “Come for Daddy, sweetheart.”

He flicks his tongue—and you do. You come so violently for him that you grip his hair with all your might, surprised that he isn’t wincing in pain. And he doesn’t stop.

He keeps going until all that’s left of you is nothing but the cordiality of your high and those shudders, licking you up, devouring all that you’re giving him, wet fingers spread on the back of your thighs.

Then, he sets your legs down, straddles you and kisses you nastily. Makes you taste yourself on his lips, on his tongue and he enjoys the principle of it all. Enjoys giving back to you what you leaked for him. “I could have you come on my tongue all night.” He pecks you, swirls his tongue around yours. “You kept quiet through it all. Good girl. You learn so well.”

You’re speechless, satisfied, sensing something approaching you that you fail to understand. Something bigger than attachment, but smaller than feelings. Connected to his healing gift or perhaps invented from it. Something that’s smack dab in the middle, growing in you, and you submit to it, unafraid of it.

A certain desire fraternizes with it. You push at his shoulder, wanting him on his back. As if he senses what it is, he stays put. Solid as a rock. In both ways.

But you’ll have your own.

You tug the waistband of Yoongi’s sweats down his hips and grasp him in your hand, spreading his thick arousal down his length. Jungkook’s breath shakes, but his words don’t. “When did I tell you you could do that?”

You grab him with both hands, squeezing him. He hisses, muscles bulging along his arms on either side of you. “I’m sorry, Daddy. Can I?”

He coos. “Only because you’re so well-mannered.” Nods at you. “Keep going. Make your Daddy feel good.” Your Daddy. The fire it sparks in you, you put its wholeness into your movement—jerking him off, twisting your wrists, using all of your strength. “Hands off.” He spits on his head, the trail long and delicious to your eyes and you’re quick, you’re desperate, to resume and make him come, ache pressing down on your pussy all over again.

The slickness, his stifled noises, the snug warmth—you understand all of a sudden how he’s able to feel your pleasure because you’re experiencing it. You are pleasured because you’re pleasuring him. But still, you want more. You press him against your clit. “Fuck my hands like this, please.”

He repositions your hands. Slides them lower on his length, so his tip can stimulate your bundle of nerves. And when he begins to thrust, you’re transfixed.

By the roll of his hips, the clenching of his abdominal muscles, the evident delight overwhelming his body. You can’t take your eyes off of him. Especially not when he lets his guttural vocality loose.

You smile. “You should be quiet.”

He laughs down at you, softly. It vibrates in your core. He kisses you, humming into your mouth. “You’re right, but it feels so good like this. Doesn’t it feel good on your pussy?”

You nod, biting his lip, angling your head and devouring his mouth, plagued by his arousal, by his pleasure, by his response to your little slyness. He fucks your hands faster, gliding across your clit, not lasting for a moment longer. He shoots out his hot cum onto your tummy, cock twitching in your hands, his noises muffled by your mouth.

And he remains there. Even as he fingers you so fast that you come in seconds. Even as he takes those drenched digits, collects his male essence and plunges them into your mouth. “‘Atta girl. So good for me.”

He cleans your folds and thighs with his tongue. Dresses you, like a child. Fixes your camisole. Puts the covers back on you and spoons you.

Yoongi remains soundly asleep. You succumb to slumber faster than you came but before you do, it’s Jungkook’s words that lead you to that dreamland. “Goodnight, sweetheart. Sweet dreams.”

In the morning, you wake up first. And the sight you see is so profoundly beautiful that you take a moment to gape at it, folding it into your heart.

Jungkook drools in his sleep. Celestial countenance, tousled hair in all directions, broad chest lifting and falling in absolute tranquility. He twists his features for a split second, as if he was dreaming about something uncomfortable and you’re so affected by it that you look away.

Turn your gaze to your boyfriend instead.

Still snoring, mouth parted. Ebony hair brushed back, exposing his forehead. The corners of his lips tug up and stay and you think angels must be playing with him in his dreams. You kiss his arm, crawling back, painfully, until your feet hit the floor.

You take a long, long shower. Practice your gratitude, recollecting last night’s events and words spoken by Jungkook that weren’t as private as he thought. Hearing them, they were too fresh to be consumed, but now that you think about them—your own smile finds your lips and you agree with him in your heart. You can’t let him walk away after this. Can’t let him return to his normal life that exists without you, not when you’re something along the lines of attached to him. Hell, you can’t return to your own normal life without him. Without his touch, without his celestiality. Without his attentiveness and healing gift.

This has to be a continuous relationship.

Jungkook was the one who called it that way and it feels right. Even as you taste it on your tongue, it’s the most delicious thing you’ve ever swallowed. It fills your body with verve, one that you deem is essential at this point. One that you will need every single day from now on.

You have to talk about this with Yoongi. The idea doesn’t scare you, despite the fact you can’t really picture his reaction. Can’t imagine which way it will gravitate towards—whether to light or to dark. You don’t mind at all, in fact you look forward to it and you wash your body with greater care than you ever handled it with before.

With a face mask on, you take your cosmetic bag and do your makeup in the living room. The sunlight spills in, kissing your ebullient mien, and you imprint its red marks with a touch of blush across your cheeks, its lovely color with glitter on your eyelids and you finish the job with a few brushes of mascara upon your lashes and a singular swipe of a glimmering lip gloss on your lips.

It is only then that Jungkook appears in front of you.

“He still sleeps like a bear.”

You’re so happy to see him that it manifests on your face.

“Don’t try to wake him up or you’ll get eaten.”

Placing your cosmetic bag on his lap, he sits beside you. “I wouldn’t dare.” Examines your face for a good moment. “Why are you putting this on? You don’t need it.”

“I enjoy it,” you say, watching fondly as he takes out each makeup product and scans them. Once he comes across your tiny tubes of glitter of various shades, light flickers in his eyes. Your heart does the same thing. And a somersault right after.

“You wear glitter?”

You nod, a precious, girlish smile stretching your glossy mouth. “I’m wearing it right now.” You close your eyes for him, letting him see the small sparkles, resplendent of the sun. He praises you, the word ‘pretty’ embracing you tightly in all its snug simplicity, forcing your eyes open. A brighter spark shines in his irises. You brim with the yearning to doll up his eyes to match it and, having your way as always, you steal the tubes from him. “Which one do you want?”

He doesn’t even fight you. As a matter of fact, he’s already decided. Doesn’t waste a second to reply. “The silver one.”

Excitedly, you quiver all over. Dab the applicator on the back of your hand and lift your sight to catch him smiling cutely at you like the puppy he is. Your hand itches to ruffle his hair. Grab his cheek and bite into it. Go for his nose next.

Whirling the pad of your finger on the splatter of glitter, you hover it above his lids. “Close your eyes.”

He listens, immediately. You pat the imitation of his glint across that soft skin, but you focus on that beautiful, pouty smile of his. Think you’ll save his lips for last and savor them as you eat them.

You swipe your finger for more and adorn his other eye. Take the rest and speckle it on the highest points of his cheekbones—this time with his attention all on you.

You lean back to observe your artwork and find that something is missing. You know right away what it is.

You dab the applicator on his cupid’s bow and drag it down his collarbones. Take care of that first before you move over to his lips. You blend it there with utmost care and he lets you, zeroining his gaze into yours. Deep, but gentle. Loving.

To finish it, you kiss him. And it’s not because you were driven by your emotions or by that stare of his. You do it because you want to. Kiss him again, so the highlight is perfectly blended.

He’s puzzled when you draw away, but you’re not unnerved by it. You’re firm and stable in your decisions, happy in the outcome, any hints of repercussions or doubts far, far away from you. In another world, in another galaxy. It has long forgotten your name and you’re glad for it.

“We shouldn’t do this.”

There he goes with ‘we’ again. It makes you weak.

“There’s nothing wrong with it,” you say, soothingness coating your voice, penetrating his negative emotion to the point that he relaxes. Before he can say anything, you continue. “I heard what you said last night. To Yoongi. That this relationship is way bigger and deeper.” Surprise and timidity bleeds into the glitter on his face and he’s unable to look you in the eye. You grab his palm, holding it with both of your hands in your lap. “I agree with you. I feel it, too. This wasn’t just a one time thing. I don’t think it was ever meant to be just for one night.”

There’s rawness to your words that make him reciprocate your eye contact. He gnaws at his lips, as if to eat away his nerves. You squeeze his hand harder and are about to continue, but the creak on the hardwood floors stops you.

Yoongi. With his wrinkled face and puffy, but awake eyes. In a pair of boxers and nothing else. You stand up to your feet, dropping Jungkook’s hand, and you go to meet him halfway, but you don’t make it far. The soreness between your legs won’t let you.

He grins at you, wrapping his arms around you. “Can’t walk?” His taunt is loving and scrunch your face at him. “Good morning, honey.”

You kiss his bare chest. “Good morning.”

Yoongi moves over to Jungkook and places a hand on his shoulder. “Sleep well?”

Wet softness in his eyes. “The best sleep of my life.”

“So, I want two boyfriends.”

While Yoongi made coffee for all three of you, you were more than happy to make breakfast. Scrambled eggs on avocado toast—one that Jungkook chokes on upon hearing your words and one that flings out of Yoongi’s mouth because he bursts into a violent laughter.

You laugh along with him—so hard that tears well in your eyes, slapping your palm down repeatedly on the round wooden table. Yoongi mirrors your movement on Jungkook’s back as he fights for his life, red in the face, eyes wide.

“What did you say?” the puppy croaks out, bewildered, letting go of his bread and you feel terribly bad for him, for shocking him so enormously.

The decision came upon you suddenly while you cooked. Easy, smooth. Appeared on your heart that sprang it up to your mind. Gave it pros and cons—good friendship, good sex, good time; Yoongi might get jealous and/or possessive, nothing else. It made sense to you, grazed your attachment ever so sweetly. How else would you keep last night continuous? Even Yoongi went around the matter when he talked Jungkook’s head off, asking him if he’d been with other people after you.

Boyfriend simply means that. No other people—just you and Yoongi.

You weren’t going to keep it to yourself. Even if there was a risk of it going downhill.

It’s not relief that you feel upon hearing Yoongi laugh—it’s a river of liberation, concocted with absolute joy, coursing in your bloodstream. He woke up in a good mood. Woke up happy. And you fold that fact into your heart, hoping it stays for a long time.

“Eat your toast, silly,” you say, smiling, eyes crinkled. Take a bite of your own. Happy that Yoongi is happy, happy that you’re eating your favorite fruit, sitting again at the table with your two favorite people. “You heard me.”

“Oh, fuck,” is all Jungkook says, whisking his eyes to Yoongi, who’s chuckling, bending down to pick up the piece of toast he was in the middle of chewing.

You look at him, too, waiting for his response.

Yoongi brushes his hair back, a lazy smile on his mouth. “I think it’s a fantastic idea.”

You grin so hard that your cheeks hurt. The river in you speeds its stream. “Thank you,” you exclaim, rubbing his arm, quivering with excitement. “I say we mess around and have a good time. We can go on dates.”

Jungkook relaxes a little bit, furrowing his brows as he chews on his toast.

“She wanted two cocks, don’t tell me you didn’t expect this,” Yoongi says to his friend, patting your thigh. “I did.”

Perhaps that’s why he had such a hard time in all of this. He knew it was inevitable—and he worked his way through it until he ended here. Fine with it. Healed.

“When did that happen?” you ask, sliding your hand down to his.

“When I decided the first time I was gonna give it to you. Then, again when I promised you we were gonna make this work,” he says and you pout at him, so grateful, so touched. He squeezes your thigh, looking at Jungkook. “I can see your questions all over your face. Out with them.”

Jungkook has finished his toast, brows still furrowed as he swallows. He leans back in his chair, manspreading, hands intertwining behind his head. Pokes a tongue in his cheek, smirking. “Don’t kill me for this, but,” he starts, showing his teeth. “Do I get to have her to myself? Without you? And vice versa?”

Your heart beats ferociously in your chest. Yoongi pauses for a moment, thinking about it. He let him do it last night, he let him have you to himself, though under different circumstances. You figure what Jungkook meant is whether he can fuck you without asking for permission and the idea exhilarates you.

And the vice versa part. Jungkook is one sly—

“It won’t be instant, but we’ll work hard. Work our way through it until we’re all comfortable and happy,” Yoongi finally says and you kiss his hand.

You’re so overwhelmed with joy that your blood buzzes.

Jungkook nods. “Of course, I understand.”

“Is this something you want?” Yoongi directs the question at you and you nod.

“Yes, once you’re ready.”

Silence settles like fine dust. You finish your toast quietly and as soon as you’re done, you deem Yoongi should know about what happened in the late hours. “We didn’t fuck last night. While you slept. It didn’t even cross my mind and I wouldn’t do it unless I had your… blessing.”

Yoongi cackles at your choice of word. “Good girl,” he praises. “You’ll get your blessing soon. I promise.”

You look at him for a long time and you wonder if there’s anything he wouldn’t do for you.

“So, it’s settled, then,” Jungkook says and places a hand on the table, opens it for you. You grab it and he squeezes you. “Let’s celebrate.”

BACK to masterlist / READ part one, READ part two, READ part three

#jungkook x oc #yoongi smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fluff #btscreatorscorner #kpop smut #jungkook one shot #yoongi x oc #yoongi x reader #yoongi imagine

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asdfghjklmals · 5 months

Text

LILIES & ROSES 2.0✩༶‧˚

GENRE + T/W: sfw, fluff. suggestiveness and mentions of sex. WORD COUNT: 4.1k words. TAGS: satoru gojo x fem!oc, dad!gojo, mom!oc. established couple.

SYNOPSIS: oc gojo girlfriend and satoru celebrate baby gojo's first valentine's day! AUTHOR'S NOTE: happy early valentine's day everyone! sorry i've been so mia. i hope this fic will make up for my absence. the first ‘lilies & roses’ fic was for oc gojo girlfriend’s mother’s day so make sure to read that. 💚 REMINDER: if you want to imagine yourself in oc gojo girlfriend's character descriptions instead, please do!

you and satoru woke up at exactly 5am to your five-month-old human alarm clock babbling in her snoo.

you felt slender, yet strong arms slide under your shirt to pull you closer, even if it was just for a moment. a quick, welcoming kiss by soft tender lips pressed onto your exposed shoulder blade.

“good morning, sweetheart.” satoru whispered into your ear, finally pulling away from you so he could start his morning routine with his daughter.

you turned to face him, half-awake eyes following each step from his side of the bed to your daughter’s bassinet across the room. you let out a tired sigh.

“there’s daddy’s big girl!” satoru said with a quiet, yet cheery voice. a gummy smile appeared on the face of your 5 month old baby girl. it was a smile that satoru never got tired of seeing.

he reached down to pick up sayuri, holding her close to his chest so that her head could rest on his shoulder. you saw her peeking at you. you shot a soft smile at her as her lips trembled. she wanted mommy right now. and where the hell was her milk?

before sayuri could even let out a cry for you, satoru quickly left the master bedroom and shut the door behind him. this was the start of his morning routine, bonding time with his daughter that he always looked forward to.

and so, you shut your eyes for a couple more minutes before satoru and sayuri would come back with their special delivery, your morning coffee. (read ‘morning routine 2.0’ here)

**********************

“okay, yurs—here’s the game plan,” satoru said to his baby girl, “today is something called valentine’s day. usually mommy and daddy go out on a date and then participate in love-making-physical-activities at night, but since we have you this year, i think we should change it up a little.”

sayuri drooled on satoru’s shoulder, unsure of what her father was babbling on about. she pursed her lips and continued to drool.

“we need to stop by the flower shop first so we can get her a nice big bouquet of ros—i mean lilies. those are your mommy’s favorite flower you know. did you know you’re named after them?” (read 'hello baby' here)

sayuri. sayuri meant ‘small lily’ in japanese. it was the perfect name for your perfect baby girl.

satoru continued on with explaining his plan to his partner in crime, “then—i was thinking that while you take your afternoon nap, i can cook a late lunch for mommy. i haven’t done that for her in a long time.”

satoru stirred sweet creamer into your cup of coffee and smiled. he felt as if his plan was going to be perfect—another successful valentine’s day for satoru gojo in the books.

as he imagined how the day would progress, he warmed up a packet of your stored breast milk for sayuri before she started to fuss. but sayuri gojo was no fool, she knew she was going to be fed in a few moments so she decided to give grace to her trying father. she decided that she’d throw a tantrum later.

**********************

“what do you mean you’re taking sayuri out by yourself?” you frowned after taking a sip of your morning coffee. you had hoped to spend some time with your little family today—it was valentine’s day after all.

last year, you told satoru that you didn’t want to do anything extravagant because you were still in the early stages of your pregnancy. you were nauseas and tired during your first trimester. knowing him, he would have already had a trip to somewhere tropical planned if you hadn’t told him that you wanted to stay home.

satoru mischievously grinned, rubbing salt into your wound, “we are going to have a daddy-daughter date for valentine’s day.”

“what if i wanted to have a mommy-daughter date?” you pouted back at your baby daddy, “it’s our baby girl’s first valentine’s day, can’t we spend it together?”

an imaginary lightbulb lit up above satoru’s head. he did need time to cook for you without you being in the apartment, so maybe you could take sayuri during that time.

“how about you take sayuri out for a couple hours?” satoru suggested, “we’ll be home by 2pm.”

“—but 2pm is her nap time, satoru.”

‘of course you wouldn’t forget about her nap time.’ satoru thought to himself. he shifted his milk-drunk daughter in his arms so he could face you.

“okay, how about this, sweetheart—i’ll take yurs and be home by noon. she can take an early nap, and then you can have her at 3pm. i have an appointment from 3pm-5pm anyways.”

satoru may have lied about having an appointment, but he needed to have an excuse not to be with you and sayuri so he could prepare for your valentine’s day surprise.

“can we celebrate after your appointment?” you asked eagerly. your daughter’s first valentine’s day was important to you. not only was it sayuri’s first, it was yours and satoru’s first as parents.

“of course, sweetheart.” satoru said as he leaned in for a kiss on your forehead, a sneaky grin plastering his face, “we have a tradition to uphold.”

“if sex is the tradition you’re talking about, i swear to—”

a whimpering cry interrupted your empty threat to satoru. sayuri was still hungry. she started to wail as if she was screaming, ‘more food, please!’

“—and that’s my queue to leave,” satoru said as he handed off sayuri to you. he quickly jumped out of the bed to make sayuri another bottle.

you shook your head and chuckled.

“your daddy is so silly,” you looked down at satoru gojo’s mini-me. everything you loved about satoru reflected back at you in your daughter. her slender nose, soft pink lips, and her thin white eyebrows. you had the most perfect child. of course you did, she was satoru gojo’s copy and paste.

“so baby girl—i was thinking that while we go on our mommy-daughter date, we can go see grandpa kiku and grandma fuku. daddy would be devastated if we didn’t get him anything for valentine’s day.”

sayuri looked up at you as you patted her back gently. she felt content being in your arms. it gave her comfort and soothed away any fears she may have had, just like daddy’s—and it was the exact same feelings that satoru felt whenever he was in your arms.

“then we can come back home and spend the night with daddy!” you said excitedly with a giggle, “you have to protect mommy from daddy tonight, okay?”

sayuri gojo wouldn’t understand your joke, but you knew what satoru gojo’s intentions were on a day like valentine’s day.

later that morning

“your mom must be loving the fact that she can sleep in today,” satoru chuckled to his daughter as he opened the glass door to the flower shop.

satoru, you, megumi, and tsumiki have been going to this flower shop ever since you moved to the apartment. at first, it was just convenient for satoru. satoru always bought you flowers whenever he upset you or whenever he wanted to surprise you with them just to see you smile. and now, after years of giving the flower shop owner business, you were regulars—to the point where the owner, mrs. itose, had a customized bouquet on hand made just for you whenever satoru or the kids needed it.

“good morning, satoru! good morning, miss sayuri!” the flower shop owner greeted the father-daughter duo.

satoru smiled, presenting his baby girl, “say hi to grandma itose!”

grandma itose had been around for the growth of yours and satoru’s relationship. she was like family. when you gave birth to sayuri, she sent the world’s most beautiful bouquet of lilies you had ever seen. mrs. itose placed her bets that baby gojo was going to be a girl and because of that, she was one of the first people to know sayuri’s name.

“i’m guessing you’re here for valentine’s day?” the shop owner smiled as she continued to wrap rose bouquets to sell for the day. it was a busy day for mrs. itose.

satoru scratched the back of his head and grinned, “that obvious?”

“don’t you worry, satoru. i have (y/n)’s bouquet ready for you.” mrs. itose said with a smug, yet confident grin. she wiped off her hands on a towel and walked to the back of the shop, disappearing for a moment.

satoru watched sayuri as her small, curious eyes scanned the store. her eyes were always full of wonder. she gave a gummy smile to the shop owner who smiled back at her while holding your large bouquet of lilies and roses and a smaller bouquet of lilies alongside it.

“what’s that small bouquet for?” satoru asked, knowing he didn’t order a small bouquet.

mrs. itose smacked satoru’s shoulder, “not only do you have (y/n) to buy flowers for, but you have to buy them for your daughter too!”

satoru’s heart sank. he felt guilty that he didn’t even think about buying his mini-me, his adorable little girl, a bouquet for valentine’s day. he now had two girls in his life to think about.

“i didn’t even think about that before we had sayuri.” he sheepishly admitted, giving sayuri an apologetic kiss to her chubby cheek.

“being a girl dad will make you realize a lot of things.” mrs. itose teased, “a reflection of how you treat (y/n) is a guideline to how sayuri will expect to be treated by her significant other when she grows up.”

the thought of sayuri growing up, dating, and eventually getting married gave satoru the chills. he didn’t even want to think about it. all he knew was that whoever his daughter ended up loving, they better love her the way he loved you.

“grandma itose, thank you for teaching me how to be a good dad. and you’ve always helped me be a good partner to (y/n).” satoru said with appreciation. mrs. itose was always a listening ear when he would pick up flowers after an argument.

the shop owner smiled warmly at satoru and sayuri, “have a happy valentine’s day, you two.”

satoru held the two bouquets up with his cursed technique and paid the shop owner double the amount of what the flowers actually costed. he made sure to leave before mrs. itose could say anything.

“say bye to grandma itose, yurs.” satoru sang as he held sayuri’s arm to wave goodbye.

next year, he would make sure to remember to order flowers for his precious little lily too.

later that afternoon

“i bet your daddy wishes he could be here with us.” you sang smugly as you pushed sayuri’s nuna stroller down the familiar streets of tokyo. “he loves seeing grandpa kiku and grandma fuku.”

sayuri was bundled up warmly in her swaddle, enjoying the stroller ride. her view was a beautiful you. your long black hair flowed behind you in the wind, green eyes sparkling as you looked on ahead. sayuri looked at you just like satoru did. with awe.

“i’m sorry you had to change your nap time today.” you apologized, “mommy couldn’t help it. she wanted to spend time with you too.”

you weren’t mad at the fact that satoru and sayuri always got to spend time together, in fact, you loved that they had a bond. it was more of the thought that one day, your baby girl wouldn’t need her mother anymore.

you made your way to the kikufuku stand that you and satoru had been visiting since you were high schoolers. the stall owners recognized you immediately and rushed towards you.

grandma fuku called out your names excitedly, “(y/n)! sayuri!”

“hi mrs. fuku.” you laughed, knowing exactly what she wanted. you picked up sayuri and placed her in grandma fuku’s arms as she cooed at your baby.

grandpa kiku and grandma fuku were family, just like grandma itose. you remembered the moment when your belly started showing during your pregnancy. you wanted to surprise and visit grandma fuku to see if she would notice. grandma fuku was so excited when she realized you were pregnant, she wanted to close to shop immediately so she could sit down and talk to you about motherhood. that day, even grandpa kiku ended up giving satoru a lecture on how to be a good husband and that being a dad changes your entire life.

you were grateful for the kikufuku stand couple. they had been there for you and satoru when you were both in high school. their kikufuku stand was where you and satoru had your first date, and many more dates after that. they had become important parts of your lives and you hoped that they would be in your daughter’s too. (read 'love at first fight' here)

“grandpa kiku packed up all of satoru’s favorites.” grandma fuku said with a smile as she held sayuri in her arms. your baby enjoyed being held by anyone—she was a friendly baby, just like her friendly father.

grandpa kiku called out with a grin, “we figured one of you two would be here to pick these up.”

he held out a pink box of kikufuku towards you, all in satoru’s favorite flavors. you placed them in sayuri’s stroller and quickly paid the shop owners a generous amount of money, far more than what the sweet treat was actually worth. it was the least you could do for them after all these years of satoru terrorizing their kikufuku stand.

a visit to the kikufuku shop with sayuri always lasted longer than expected. they always wanted to hold her and talk about how she was doing. in a blink of an eye, an hour had already passed. you had to meet satoru back at home.

“on our next day off, satoru and i will bring sayuri.” you promised as you placed sayuri back into her stroller.

“that would be great! happy valentine’s day, (y/n) and sayuri! tell satoru we said hi!” the shop owners called out to you.

you gave them a bright smile and waved back, “we will! happy valentine’s day! don’t work too hard!”

“make sure to have lots of babies for me!” grandma fuku made sure to add.

you laughed at her request. you were pretty sure satoru’s sobo and your grandma wanted the same thing too. but for now, you and satoru wanted to enjoy the time you had with your little accident, sayuri.

at the gojo/(l/n) apartment

on your way home, a burning smell wafted through the apartment hallways, worrying you.

“is your father already home?” you asked your daughter as if she could answer you. you already knew it was satoru, you could sense his cursed energy residuals.

you typed in the code to the pin pad lock and pushed sayuri’s stroller in. the burning smell was coming from your kitchen.

“babe, are you okay…?” you called out.

“goddamn it—oh hi sweetheart!” satoru turned around attempting to mask his apparent frustration, he sucked on his thumb that he burned while attempting to grab something from the oven.

“did you burn yourself?”

“yes…” he mumbled, “can you come kiss it better?”

you laughed at how much of a baby the strongest sorcerer could be.

“let me grab sayuri, run it under cold water first.”

while you picked up sayuri from her stroller, satoru obediently ran his thumb under the kitchen faucet, the icy cold water soothing his burn.

you approached him from behind with sayuri attached to your hip, rubbing his back in soothing circles.

“you okay, babe?” you attempted to stifle a laugh.

satoru pouted and answered dramatically, “no, i might just die right now, it hurts so bad.” as a jujutsu sorcerer, you were pretty sure he’s felt worse than a simple cooking burn.

“hold her,” you demanded while you handed your daughter off to her father, “give me your hand.”

he quickly put his hand in yours. the red spot on his thumb was starting to blister. you focused your reversed cursed technique onto his burn, water appearing from the air to cover the spot on his thumb. when you released your technique, it was as if the burn never happened.

sayuri blinked in awe as she watched you and satoru. sayuri gojo was born with cursed energy, but you and satoru didn’t know what her innate cursed technique was yet. was it limitless from the gojo clan? or was it an elemental technique from your clan?

“you’re such a baby, satoru.” you teased, “you can use reversed cursed energy yourself but for some reason, you always come to me to heal you.”

“guilty as charged.” satoru grinned before pulling you in for a kiss, “i’ll always be your baby.”

you pulled away from him, biting your lip with a seductive grin. curious sayuri leaned towards the kitchen, grabbing your attention. you turned to stare at the oven, “so what happened to my kitchen?”

“i tried to make us dinner but i forgot about the food in the oven while i was cleaning and decorating.” satoru said, face palming his forehead.

you turned to look at the decorations satoru was talking about. a large bouquet of lilies and roses and a smaller one sat on the glass dining table, rose petals decorated the floor with candles lit all around the kitchen and living room area. it reminded you of your 25th birthday. (read ‘forget me not’ here)

you blinked twice. you didn’t even notice how clean the apartment was or all the valentine’s day decorations that satoru put up when you first came through the door. the burning smell must’ve distracted you.

you walked over to the patio door to open it, airing out the burnt smell and smoke. as you made your way back to satoru, he sunk into the couch, white cushions engulfing him, sayuri sitting on his chest. she gently patted his chest as if she was consoling him.

“what’s wrong?” you asked with concern.

satoru crest-fallen, mumbled, “i had the perfect valentine’s day planned out for us, but i burnt our dinner.”

“the only thing that matters is that our apartment isn’t burnt down.” you giggled.

“but sweetheart, i wanted today to be perfect.”

“it’s already perfect,” you smiled at him and then at your daughter, “i have my perfect man, my perfect baby, and you got me flowers. what more could i ask for?”

“a perfect dinner?” satoru added sarcastically.

you shot a glare at him before grabbing his chin with your hand, positioning his face to look straight at you.

“what were you cooking anyways?”

“a prime rib roast.”

you really would’ve enjoyed that prime rib roast today, but you had to save satoru’s pride. satoru gojo couldn’t be perfect at everything.

“it’s fine, who cares about a roast!” you bluffed while letting go of his chin, “how about we get take out from sushi go?”

“not splendid sushi?” satoru asked, knowing that you liked splendid sushi, while his favorite was sushi go.

“no, we can get sushi go tonight.” you said with a smile in hopes that it would make satoru feel better, “and before i forget, sayuri and i got you something for valentine’s day.”

sayuri babbled while attempting to eat the buttons of satoru’s dress shirt. she reached for satoru face as he playfully nipped at her stubby fingers with his mouth.

you made your way back to the couch with satoru's box of kikufuku. a smile crept back on his face. he couldn’t stay mad if a box of his favorite sweets were being presented to him by an extremely captivating and beautiful woman.

“my girls went to see grandpa kiku and grandma fuku without me?” he teased, squeezing and poking at sayuri’s chubby cheeks.

“mhmm.” you laughed, “we had to make sure we didn’t forget about daddy on our mommy-daughter date.”

“speaking of forgetting… you know what mrs. itose said to me today?”

you tilted your head to the side, waiting for him to continue on with his story.

“she said whenever i buy flowers for you, i should buy some for yurs too. she mentioned that how i treat you is gonna be a guideline on how sayuri is going to expect to be treated from her significant other when she grows up.”

“well, mr. satoru gojo, it’s a good thing you take very good care of me and treat me very well.” you smiled back at him, eyes full of adoration for the love of your life—and the father of your child.

satoru added, “—and don’t forget i love you very much.”

you snuck a kiss on satoru's cheek, “i love you too, babe.”

you looked back at the flowers sitting on the dining table. mrs. itose’s work was beautiful. you have never received a subpar bouquet from her and satoru. you spotted sayuri’s baby bouquet, noticing hers exclusively had lilies.

“i like how baby girl gets a bouquet of just lilies but mine still have roses in there even though you know lilies are my favorite flower.” (read ‘lilies & roses’ here)

“it’s an inside joke for us now. it’d be weird if you didn’t have roses in your bouquet.” satoru chuckled as sayuri laid on his chest, looking up at you. you admired the sweet sight, your child and your lover both looking back at you with the same eyes you loved so much.

“so how about that take out order?” satoru asked with his fingers on the speed dial for sushi go.

“don’t forget my salmon nigiri!”

EXTRA:

“i’m exhausted,” satoru huffed as he laid down on his side of the bed, his arm covering his eyes and forehead.

he had spent the last two hours cleaning the oven from the failed prime rib dinner while you and sayuri went through her night routine. (read ‘grateful for you’ here)

“too tired for your love-making activities?” you asked curiously, wondering if the baby blue lingerie set you wore under your robe tonight was going to go to waste.

“for once in my life, i think i am.” satoru sighed.

you pouted, “that’s a shame. i bought the cutest lingerie set just for you. it has a garter and everything!”

satoru sat up, interested in what you had to say. “well, when you put it that way… how about you show me? is it see through? is it edible? does it have ease of access?”

you giggled at his silly questions. he pulled you into his lap as he starting to unravel your robe, tracing kisses along your collarbone, the sensation tickling you.

you sensed a familiar cursed energy waver. immediately, you put your hands on satoru’s chest, stopping him from his ministrations.

“what is it?” he asked impatiently as he bit at your hands.

you furrowed your eyebrows, “you don’t sense it? she’s gonna cry, daddy.”

satoru was hoping in all honestly that sayuri would self soothe and fall back asleep on her own.

you heard sayuri whimpering. her whimpering turned into a full on cry, your motherly instincts were spot on.

“oh come on, yurs…” satoru groaned.

“maybe next friday we can get a hotel room.” you laughed, knowing that megumi would be home for the weekend to babysit. (read ‘date night vs. babysitting night’ here)

you wrapped your robe around yourself again and stepped out of bed to comfort your crying baby. you carried your fussing daughter to the king sized bed that you and satoru shared, placing her right in the middle between you and the white haired sorcerer.

“you can sleep with mommy and daddy tonight.” you said softly as you patted sayuri gently, coaxing her to fall asleep again.

“nice one, yurs,” satoru chuckled. he noticed sayuri had stopped crying and fell right back asleep as soon as she laid in the bed with the two of you. “saving your innocent mommy from your monstrous daddy, huh?”

you laughed, remembering how you had asked sayuri to protect you from satoru earlier. satoru turned to face you and sayuri. the both of you watched as she breathed in and out, her tiny body relaxing and sleeping so peacefully in the presence of the two of you. your heart swelled watching her, she was the best thing to ever happen to you and satoru.

“happy valentine’s day, sayuri and mommy.” satoru whispered across his sleeping daughter.

you looked down at your baby girl before smiling back at satoru, “happy valentine’s day, sayuri and daddy.”

DIVIDERS PROVIDED BY @/ANLIAN-AISHANG

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deformedcat · 3 months

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The 5 love language

pairing: artist male y/n x childhood friend oc

warning: vomiting, stalking, obsessive behaviour, gore, open ending, not proof read, v rushed 📣📣

Valentine's Day, a day to spend with your loved ones, something you didn't have.

Forget spending Valentine's day with anyone- you had work at the convenience store. Sure, you're an artist, but money won't magically appear onto your kitchen counter.

Despite that, it didn't bother you as much as the sight you saw around you that day. (though bother might not be fitting, more like envious) There were couples everywhere on dates, holding hand and showing their affection towards each other. Bleh. (translation: when is it my turn?)

Either way, you could complain all you want but life still goes on. Sighing, you walk towards your apartment, staring down at your phone to avoid the sights of couples. It wasn't until an envelope at your door caught your attention.

The envelope had a simple yet design with a heart shape sticker on it, you hesitantly take it and enter your apartment.

After sitting on your couch for abit, you cautiously and gradually opens the letter, wary of any potential pranks, but nothing happened.

"Dear y/n

Happy Valentine's day, well, it's not Valentine's day yet but it will be soon.

I've always had a big crush on you, but i never gotten the chance to confess to you directly. Truth to be told, i'm not a courageous person, but you give me the strength to do so today :).

You are the most strongest, admirable person I've met. Whenever i listen to your music, I'm hit in awe with how talented you are. I fall even harder everytime i see you. Your presence is already enough for me to keep going.

Do you know the saying "the 5 love language"? They are words of affirmation, acts of service, receiving gifts, quality time, and physical touch. I would love to know which one is your love language, but instead of asking, I want to let you experience all of them. I aim to make you feel loved in every way possible, starting with words of affirmation!"

..Ah.

A secret admirer,,?

You honestly didn't know something so cliche that would be done in a high school romance movie would happened to yourself, in real life.

The rest of the kettle had you fuming like a kettle, was this person a fan of poets? They sure had their way with words.

As sweet as the letter sounds, you couldnt help but feel crept out by this, how much does this person knows you? Do you even know this person?

You could only hope that it's not someone creepy, like a stalker.. You opened your phone and take a picture of the letter, sending it to your childhood bestfriend.

y/n:

photo.jpeg

hyeon:

what's this?

y/n:

love letter,

saw it in front of my

apartment

hyeon:

does someone have a lil crush on little y/n :0?

y/n:

hyeon:

Daniel's got a competitor 😄

y/n:

NEVER

im forever loyal to daniel

👎👎

hyeon:

haha

why are you showing me this?

y/n:

idk

felt a lil crept out

dont u think its weird??

how did they know where i lived? idfk who they are

hyeon:

hmm, thats true.

maybe it's a neighbour? they mentioned they could hear your music, they might be living around your area ?

y/n:

that make it even worse

hyeon:

lock your doors and windows, you wouldnt want to entice your little 'admirer' to break in do you?

y/n:

gtg, bye

hyeon:

i was just joking D:!

I'll be back from Russia soon, i promise <3

y/n

mm, maybe dont.

take care tho

A few days went by and nothing happened, you were beginning to wonder if the letter was just a prank from the kids around the area.

Regardless, you didn't care, you were to tired from your work ealier. Getting yelled at by your manager in front of the customers, for something rather silly. (you looked really tired but manager took it as "mf u dont like ur work isit) This was far fron the first time, and not the worst thing that had happened, but it didn't make it less draining.

you went into your apartment, turned on the light and fell right onto your couch. Rent was due in 3 weeks,, you were mentally preparing yourself to starve for the next few days to be able to have a roof under your head.

everything was tiring you out, and you just want a car to come running into you already, but the house isn't going to clean itself. You had to do chores because you have been putting off chores for a few days now. It's going to pile up the more you tell yourself "i'll do it tomorrow." so you pushes your body off the couch to start.

maybe you can start by taking out the trash.

problem was, the trash was missing. you stared at the empty, new plastic bag over the trash you didn't remember replacing. are you hallucinating?

you went over the sink to wash the dishes, to find them cleaned and kept neatly inside the cabinet. huh.

you must be going crazy, you were sure you did not wash those dishes nor keep them. even if you did, you wouldn't store them as neat as this.

are you going insane?

you quickly check the laundry, and sure enough, they were all done up. the dirty clothes were washed, the one that you didn't bother folding was folded and put away in your bedroom. Neatly.

was your landlord here this morning? Even if he was, he wouls never done something like this. He only ever told you to stop being so lazy and clean the messy apartment. He even once demanded you to clean everything up while be watched but thats it.

you hit your head against the wall, hard, to check if you had not actually fallen asleep on the couch and this was all just a dream. you winced at the pain on your forehead, that sure gave you an answer that youre not hallucinating.

maybe you're just overworked..?

you sat on your bed, noticing a familiar envelope with another sticker on your pillow.

what the fuck.

you opened the envelope, which in it read,

"dear y/n,

Surprise, it's an act of service this time! you're so hardworking that you tire yourself out,, so i decided to do somethinf to lighten the load for you. Remember to take a break when you need it okay?

I also cooked dinner for you, it's your favourite :). They're in the fridge, please enjoy, it's not healthy to starve yourself.

Eternally yours,

Your secret admirer 💌"

you wanted to kill yourself.

your stalker is in fact, a stalker.

how did they get in your house?

how did they know your habits?

you didn't even bother eating the food in the fridge, letting it sit there as you spend the night searching for cameras in your house.

y/n:

hyeon,

they broke in

the mf that sent the letter broke in

photo.jpeg

hyeon:

broke in?

how? didn't i told you to lock the doors and windows?

y/n:

idfk hyeon

they broke in and like

did my chores

and even cook dinner for me

saying its an act of service

hyeon:

are you safe?

y/n:

i dont know am i

i know this sounds weird af but im

not joking

i dont feel safe in my house rn

hyeon:

call the police.

y/n:

with what evidence

tell them that someone sent two envelope, broke into my bouse, did my chores and cooked a meal for me??

ill sound like a maniac

then they'll send me to a mental hospital

hyeon:

you'll never know unless you try,

y/n, this sound dangerous, your life could be on the line bere.

please just call the police and see if they can do anything about it.

do you still have that previous letter with you?

y/n:

yeah

hyeon:

show that to them, including the new one.

y/n:

ill try

hyeon:

okay.

i wish i wasnt in russia right now.

im so sorry, please wait a bit more, ill come back soon.

update me whenever you can.

y/n:

dont be sorry,

thank you.

you never had a peaceful sleep for the next few days, the only thing keeping you sane is messaging hyeon everyday.

you have been so worn out from what happened that night. you had gone to the police, but after they didnt found anything suspicious in your house besides the two letter, they then left and told you to contact them if anything happened.

useless. you texted to hyeon.

neither did the police nor you could find any hidden cameras around your house, but that didnt mean you were safe. they could missed them, or not search at the right place.

you were sitting on your couch, scrolling down your phone to distract what had happened. suddenly, someone knocked on your door.

you groaned, thinking it was your landlord, you got up, walked to your door and peek from the peephole. nobody was there.

you opened the door slowly, immediately notices the stench behind the door. sitting on the floor in the dark hallway were two boxes wrapped like gifts with a gold ribbon.

crimson liquid was seeping through the boxes, on top of one of the box was an envelope, the one you had received a few days prior.

you suppressed the urge to throw up as you felt your breath getting quicker and shallower. you opened your phone and called the police and messaged hyeon

y/n

hyeon

when the polices arrived, they opened the boxes and envelope. one of the polices seems panickes and quickly rushes to you bringing the envelope, making you read it.

"Dear y/n,

Two, the number of hands one would need to do a heart, i thought it would be romantic to give you two gifts. After all, what's Valentine's day without gifts?

I've seen the way those two treated you, i couldnt stand watching them mistreated you. How prideful that human trash must be to push all his mistakes onto you then punishes you? Just because he's a manager? You don't deserve that, dear, so, this is for you.

And that bastard landlord of yours, the way he stares at you and put his hand at you is so disgusting. If he's gonna look at you like that, he don't deserve his eyes. Just because he's your landlord, does not mean he can put his hand on you like that, so i cut them off.

i hope you enjoy the gifts, dear. I guess this can be considered to be acts of service too? I look foward to spending some quality time with you. I can't wait to finally have you in my arm.

ps. inside the hand of your manager is a necklace. <3

Eternally yours,

Your secret admirer 💌"

you glanced at the content of the boxes, puking at the side after seeing the blood hand of your manager and your landlord's head with his eyes gouge out.

you felt helpless.

you had nowhere to go.

you didnt wanna stay here anymore, you dont feel safe anywhere.

you just want to die.

as the police patting your backs and gives you a bottle of water, you receives a text message on his phone.

hyeon:

hey, i'm here now.

i'm sorry i couldn't reply to you earlier, i just arrived in south korea.

y/n:

hyeon thank god

please

can i stay at your place for a while

i cant stay here anymore

hyeon:

Of course, i'll pick you up.

when you finally met hyeon, you collapsed into the taller man's arm, letting the tears out you have been holding in as hyeon holds you close, embracing you in much needed warmth and comfort.

"here," hyeon placed down a plate of fried rice in front of you, coincidentally it being your favourite food but you dont have any appetite after what happened.

"i can tell you havent been eating well, it's all i have at the moment, but its better than nothing."

you appreciated him, but didnt wanna eat anything at the moment, the sight of your landlors was still fresh in your mind.

"thanks, but i feel really sick right now." you felt bad for putting hyeon through the trouble, only to turn it down in the end. "i'll heat it up and have it tomorrow."

"maybe you at least drink some water?"

"sure." Hyeon was already pouring a warm cup of water for you, you were glad you at least had hyeon to come to.

you two spent a while in an awkward silence, it was like hyeon would not ask what had happened until you were ready to talk about it yourself.

"do you have work later?" you asked to distract yourself.

No, hyeon had alarms around the house. He would be notified of any suspicious activities detected.

"no, my manager said he'll take care of it."

"oh.."

then the silence were back again, until hyeon opened his mouth.

"are you going to sleep now?"

"I.." you were sure you would not be able to sleep tonight, you do not know where that stalker was, what if they too breaks into hyeon's house? will you put him in danger as well?

Even so, you're still on edge.

"do you want to share a room?"

"what?"

"you don't have to sleep alone when i'm right here for you to cuddle with!"

you sighed, "hyeon-"

"no really, maybe im just overprotective but i really dont want to leave you alone. We can catch up on the past month, and maybe if i talk enough, it might put you to sleep?"

you cried into his arms for the second time that night.

you could not remember the last time you was help to sleep, you didnt think there was ever a time actually. when he slept besides hyeon, the latter would always wrap his body around you like a koala.

not that it surprised you, hyeon had always been handsy with you ever since the two was young, but only around him.

whenever they ate together, hyeon would reach his hand out to wipe a grain of rice or a drop of sauce off your face.

whenever they play fight, hyeon would always hug you as a way to "immobilize you". when hyeon suggested decorating the house for Valentine's day to take your mind off of things, he would hold your hand and guide you through tying ribbons and hanging decorations.

And when you still couldnt stop the anxiety from rising, hyeon would hold you so close, no matter what time it is, he would remind you to breathe, and prepare plastic bags for you in case you pukes.

Heck, he even made sure that you had fallen asleep first before he would.

you felt safe by hyeon's side.

On the morning of Valentine's day, hyeon was still asleep which was expected, he had waited for you to fall asleep the night before.

You carefully and quietly slipped out of hyeon's tight hold, and headed towards the washroom, you decided to clean hyeon's office then cook a meal for him.

walking toward hyeon's office, you noticed a few paperwork on his table. It seems like it was the paperwork hyeon's had been doing last evening.

His handwriting was exceptionally neat, it had been quite some time you last seen it, but you could remember envying the man for having such a neat writing.

you noticed a half opened file on the floor, you picked it up and read the content of the files out of curiousity

they were mostly a bunch of statistics and numbers, percentages and whatnot. you wanted to stop reading but you felt drawn in his handwriting. To you, it looked familiar, like you've seen it before.

you stared longer at the words until you realized,

realized why he found it familiar.

you flipped to the next page, why did hyeon have your landlord personal informations?

you felt arms hugging you from behind, "what are you doing, snooping around my work like that? what if it's confidential?'

you didnt answer.

"y/n?" hyeon seemed to noticed you tensing up, "sorry, did i scare you that badly? you just seemed so focused on those papers, i just had to-"

"Hyeon."

"Yeah?"

You didnt know what to say, you did not know what to ask. You didnt know how to ask him.

you wish you were just dreaming.

Because.. wasnt hyeon in russia all this time?

"y/n?"

Hyeon couldnt have been in south korea. He couldnt have went into your apartment. He couldnt have place those.. letters abd boxes in your apartment if he wasnt even in the same country as you

ah.

"y/n, are you okay?"

"hyein,, can i take a look at your passport?"

"my passport? why?"

"i just want to.. confirm something."

Hyeon looked at you for a while, before letting go of you "sure, let me go get it."

As he went back to his room, you held ontobthe table tightly to avoid collapsing.

its okay.

you just had to look into his passport, then you would realize how dumb you are to suspect hyeon, the person that sheltered you when you had nowhere to go. the man that's your childhood friend who would sacrifice anything for you-

Hyeon returned, with his passport in hand. "here you go." you were about to take the passport from hum until you saw it

or more like the lack of it.

instead of handing the passport to you normally, hyeon had flipped it to the latest page. Hyeon had supposedly flew to russia first of december last year.

The last time he travelled, according to the passport,

was back in june.

"you were wondering about this, werent you?" hyeon stepped closer towards you, "when did it click?"

"your handwriting you bastard."

"ah right, that was my mistake, but dont you think it took too long for you to notice?"

Hyeon took the papers one by one, putting them together neatly, as if he was having the most normal and mundane conversation.

As if he wasnt the one that sent you all of that letters.

As if he was not the one who broke into your apartment.

As if he didnt sent that severed head and hands to you..

"i guess i should expected that, after all, i'm never the one whom you'll ever have eyes for, am i?" he smiled bitterly.

"Hyeon.." you wanted to be proven wrong, you wanted to be wrong so bad.

you wanted to believe hyeon was not capable of this.

you wanted to believe him, your closest friend, would never do such thing.

instead, you received a hug that felt so cold.

you wanted to strangle hyeon so bad. you wanted to strangle yourself.

you just felt so weak.

as much as you wanted to avoid it, the clues were all right in front of you, mocking you.

there was no one in the world who had heard and appreciated your music, who observed and knew so much of your lifestyle and habits besides ivan.

when the puzzle started coming together, you could feel yourself falling apart.

"so y/n, please tell me:

what is your favourite love language?"

you just want to die.

[draft messages]

y/n:

thanks for taking me in

im glad i hv u in my lufe

you better not tell anyone i said this,

but i dont think theres anyone else i trust

anyone else more than you

thank you.

a/n: zzzzz goodnight (disappears)

#male reader #male yandere #bottom male reader #x male reader #iwanttosleeppeladw #sub male reader #mayi'swriting—

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directdogman · 2 months

Text

Commenting on DT fan OCs!

Alright, I'mma take a look at some DT fan OCs! I've been sent quite a few, so I'll try to keep my comments for each one short 'n' sweet!

great name, snappy dresser. diggin' the bowtie! the pins are also a fun accessory!

Another snappy dresser! Tied well to an existing location in-game and the idea to explain the stickers is cute! attire is unique/memorable and the blues/browns compliment each other well. solid design. I do appreciate him!

Yo, this guy was in the last one! what is this, a crossover episode???

the bandage on side of face is a nice touch! digging the pinstripe pants too! graveyard shift at a convenience store is also quite an authentic job for a DT side character to have too! very nicely done.

Solid OC! well-drawn, unique job and her fit's stylish (it probably goes without saying that i'm a sucker for TV heads with dogs on them. that's gotta be a given, right?) The stickers on the back of the head are also a nice addition! well done!

Stanley's a real cad, huh? pizza delivery guy with a novelty pizza phone head is genius - making him flirt with milves on the job is just inspired though. i almost wish i'd come up with this guy, as i can totally imagine people around town talking about him. excellent job!!!

he's aptly named for an arcade dude! dig the fit too, especially the black + purple fingerless long sleeve gloves! the decals on the phone are neat too!

I approve of his activities but the lack of a visible mouth threw me off, since i've seen these old toy phones before, ofc.

i was about to ask "how does he drink ocean water without a mouth", before realizing that id been bamboozled into asking the fandom-favourite question of: 'how does he eat without a mouth?', only to then remember that practically no DT characters have visible mouths.

i hope you know that you've strained my weary brain today. cool OC, though.

banana phone's a fun concept! also, i must say your username's quite fitting. crept up on me from my peripheral as I gazed upon the banana phone, like a bizarre centipede of some sort. well, i'd assume so. in hindsight, most centipedes i've encountered have been pretty straightforward with me. i guess i should be grateful for that.

i like mary's fuzzy phone matching the trim of her dress but martin's really got my attention. cool name, neat quirk (he kills people, that takes moxie. hell, even pizzaz too, dare i say?) The dial being a lil clock is a neat touch since it ties his interest into the design. also quite like the cord tail matching the phone head's colour. solid design!

i like his head-type and the attire/pale skin gives a nice bit of contrast!

hard to say how randy'd feel about him, as someone who's only seen his design and 2 lines of dialogue (as someone's personality dictates randy's opinion on them far more than their appearance.) if you feel they'd get on though, you're probably correct! (randy isn't too picky, after all!)

Funnily enough, one of the earliest sketches for crown has a similar bolted plate stuck to a mostly intact phone head. it was even sticking from one of the sides. or corners. i'd have to dig up the notebook, as it's been like 4 years since I came up with the character. Sorry, just made me remember since the earliest sketches had one too.

Copper phone head's a neat idea. Contrasts well with his attire as well (nice and complimentary.) if only his attempts to deter jesse from the za worked out as well, eh?

Alright, that's it for me! thanks for the submissions, these were real creative! good job, everyone!

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neverinadream · 3 months

Text

I Wanted You To Meet Her...Just Not Like This...

Summary: This wasn't how you were meant to meet John's daughter.

Pairing: John Marino x Fem!Reader // John Marino x Ex!Fem OC (Ginny) <- only important for all of ten seconds

Requested: No (Requests Are Open)

Warnings: 18+, minors dni, nsfw for the first half, single dad!john, soft dom!john x sub!reader, dirty talk, pet names (pretty girl, good girl...), a little bit of hair pulling, fingering, oral (female receiving), interrupted morning sex, not edited

Notes: uhh...hi, this is my first time writing for john, not sure if i've done him justice, or if its any good, but this idea sort of comes from a dream i had the other week. anyway, i hope you liked it, feedback is always appreciated

"You're killing me here, pretty girl," John groans, hands pushing your knees apart, looking at you all splayed out for him on the mattress. You push up onto your elbows, watching his wild eyes drink you in, licking your own lips as he licks his, the corner slightly elevated at seeing your wetness glistening in early golden rays of sunlight. "Is this all for me?" He asks, brushing his thumb through your folds, grazing your clit at the top of his stroke.

You shiver at his touch. "Please, don't tease me," you beg, desperate and needy for him. Your head shakes from side to side, a whimper spilling from your lips as he repeats his last movement, slowing down as he brushes over your clit. "Please, John," you whine, squirming your hips, bucking them up off the bed, "I'm too tired to be teased."

"Just a little more," he whispers, stroking his fingers through your wetness, his cock twitching as he sinks one finger inside.

He bites his bottom lip, swallowing a groan, watching his finger withdraw from the tight warmth of your cunt. All mine, he thinks, sliding his finger into his mouth, moaning at the taste of you.

"So tight," he murmurs, pulling his finger out with a pop, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smug grin, "guess I need to stretch you out some more."

He adds a second finger, your elbows giving way and your back collapsing onto the mattress as your eyes close shut. His movements are slow, dragging his long fingers along your walls, curling to reach the right spot. And you whine loudly to voice your protest, pulling an amused chuckle from out of him, the sound vibrating across you like electricity.

"Johnny, please-!" Before you could finish, he lowers his mouth onto your heat, lapping and swirling his tongue against your clit. Your thighs lock around him and your back arches away from the bed, a loud moan ripping from the back of your throat. "Fuck," you breathe out, trying to catch it before another moan escapes. You fist one hand into his hair and tug on the dark curls, "don't stop."

The corners of his mouth twitch, his grin pressed against you. "Never would," he mumbles, wrapping his lips around your clit, sucking so hard that you squeak.

He glances up, finding your free hand pinching at one of your nipples and groans, rutting his hips into the mattress, seeking some much-needed friction against his steely length. "Good girl," your clit leaves his mouth with a pop and he stays watching you, keeping his hips grounded, "keep playing with yourself like that."

You do as he says, rolling your nipple between your thumb and forefinger, hissing inwards as you pinch and twist the sensitive nub.

"John." You tug on his hair, managing to pull him away, whimpering as he removes his fingers, leaving you to feel empty. "You" you stutter, releasing his hair, "I need you."

He crawls up to meet you face to face, kissing his way up your body, following the curve of your body with his hands. To him, your body was like one of those marble statues, created and shaped to perfection, and something he always wanted to step back and admire for hours. He dips his head into the crook of your neck and softly nips at your skin, soothing the sting with a flick of his tongue.

"You need me?" He asks, coming to eye to eye with you. You nod, unable to force an answer out. "Then have me," he whispers, before sinking to meet your lips.

His hand comes to rest on the side of your face, his thumb caressing your jaw as his tongue finds the seam of your mouth. You sigh, parting your lips for him, tasting yourself on his tongue whilst it teases you.

He breaks away, distracted and chuckling as your hand strokes down his chest. "Where are you going?" He asks, pressing his forehead against yours, angling his chin down to watch your hand disappear.

You smile, biting your bottom lip. "Nowhere."

He gasps, hissing into a groan as you softly stroke your fingers over the crown of his cock. "Nowhere, huh?" He bites his lips, squeezing his eyes shut and bucking his hips to meet your slow jerks.

Abruptly, you stop, ripping your hand away like you have touched something hot, nudging John away as he buries his face against your neck, asking why you had stopped.

"John, stop," you mumble, something over his shoulder catching your attention. You push up onto your elbows and watch the bedroom door handle jiggle once and then a second time.

Someone was trying to get in.

On the third attempt, John finally looks over, nearly falling off the bed as he rolls to your side.

"Stay," he mumbles the command like he's ordering about a dog. You sit up and pull the covers tight against you, watching John dress in a pair of old gym shorts, the Devils logo faded from repeated cycles in his washing machine. "It's probably just the-"

The door swings open on the fourth try, revealing a small four-year-old, dressed in baby pink dungarees. "Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!" She shouts, her pigtails bopping as she bounces excitedly. She waves one hand in the air and smiles brightly up at him.

"Wheezie?!" He nearly trips over one of your heels from last night. "What are you-" He takes a deep breath and straightens up, a soft blush appearing on the tops of his cheeks. "What are you doing here?"

Your face burns with embarrassment. This was not how you wished to meet Eloise Marino, naked and in her daddy's bed.

She ignores his question, her tiny arms swinging by her side as she tilts her head, a big round pair of eyes staring at you with curiosity. "Who are you?"

"Uh..." Your voice trails off, your eyes darting to John for help.

"Wheezie-"

"I really wish you would stop calling her that!" Another voice enters John's apartment, filtering in from the hallway, whom you assumed belonged to John's ex and Eloise's mom. "Her name is Eloise, not 'Wheezie'." She says the nickname with disgust, appearing at the door with her nose wriggled and pointed off to the side. "Is it really that hard to call her the name we picked?"

You picked, John wants to say but rolls his lips together, deciding not to pick a pointless fight with Ginny. Instead, he glances at you, checking on you, giving you a small comforting smile as he watches you slowly try and hide yourself further under the covers.

His ex looks at you in horror, throwing a hand quickly over her daughter's eyes. "Very classy, John," she tuts at him, giving you one last look of disgust before ushering Eloise out.

John waits until they've gone. "I'm sorry," he apologises, walking until he feels his knees hit the bed's footboard. He fists his fingers through his hair, leaving the top dishevelled, and releases a frustrated sigh. "I promise you she's not meant to be here," he looks at the door and then back at you, "she's meant to be with Ginny this weekend."

You shake your head and give him a nervous smile. "I was going to have to meet her at some point."

"But only when you were ready," he counters, the corners of his mouth turning down into a frown.

"John, it's fine," you lie, taking your hand and rubbing it against your chest, thinking it could magically rub away the nerves. He arches his eyebrow, not believing you for a second. You give him another smile. "Go," you wave your hand, shooing him out of the room, "go see what's wrong and I'll just wait in here. You know, gather what's left of my dignity."

He chuckles, the soft sound calming you. "Okay," he comes to the side of the bed, scooping you up an old t-shirt and quickly kisses your cheek.

You drop your head into your hands and shake your head. "Is there really no one up there looking out for me?" You speak out loud to yourself, before pulling the t-shirt over your head, feeling less embarrassed now that more of you was covered.

Kicking off the covers, you swing your legs over the side and move quickly across the room, finding yourself a pair of John's shorts or maybe even a pair of his boxers. Just anything to cover your lower half with.

"This is meant to be your weekend with her."

You stop at the door, your head craning just enough around the door to see John and his ex standing at the end of the hallway. John had his arms folded across his chest and his back turned to face you.

His ex flicks her straight blonde hair over her shoulder and turns her head, her piercing grey eyes narrowed in your direction. Taking a step back, you hold your breath, hoping she hasn't seen you.

"Doug wants to take me away for the weekend," was all she had to say.

John scoffs. "Brilliant. And what have you told Wheezie?"

"Eloise," she snaps, correcting him. Her voice rises to a higher pitch to be heard over him. "Her name is Eloise. And she'll be fine - it's just one weekend."

"And it was just one weekend with Richard too," John bites back, doing his best to keep his voice down. Skipping a weekend wasn't a one-time thing you could only assume, shaking your head, feeling an unexpected sense of sadness. "You get her two weekends of the month, Ginny," John stresses, and you take another peek around the door to see him pushing his hair back.

"And? Am I not allowed to have relationships?"

"That's not what I'm saying-"

"What was I meant to do?" She talks over him, refusing to hear what he has to say. "Tell Doug no?"

John fidgets on the spot and drags his hand down his face. "Yes," he replies, irritation lacing his tone. His answer was short and straight to the point, but she didn't seem to get it.

She rolls her eyes and waves her hand to dismiss him. "Well, she's here now, and Doug is waiting for me outside, so you better say goodbye to your little puck bunny in there." She gestures to his bedroom.

"Don't call her that."

"What?" She scoffs, laughing at him. "You can't expect me to believe she's something serious? Eloise didn't even know who she was."

"Maybe that's because it takes me longer than a week before I think about introducing someone new to her," he deadpanned, refolding his arms back across his chest. Ginny looks startled, her already rouged cheeks turning darker. "Y/N is serious," he continues, and you smile from behind the door, "but we were waiting until she was ready to meet Wheezie, which you've ruined by pulling this little stunt."

Ginny's voice becomes nothing more than background noise as you feel a soft tug on the end of your t-shirt. Looking down, you find Eloise staring up at you, her eyes a mirror image of John's. "Hi," she smiles, two dimples popping out. She twirls one of her pigtails around her finger.

Bending down, you return the smile. "It's Wheezie, right?" She nods her head, the other pigtail swinging back and forth. "It's nice to finally meet you, I'm Y/N. I'm..." Gosh, this was new for you; how were you meant to tell a four-year-old that you were her daddy's girlfriend without actually saying it? "I'm friends with your daddy," you settle on, deciding it was the easiest for her to understand.

"A friend?" She tilts her head. "Like Uncle Luke?"

"Well..."

"Y/N is my special friend," John suddenly appears behind her, lifting her onto his hip with one arm. He gives her a messy kiss on the cheek and she squeals, quickly wiping it away with the back of her hand. "My very, very special friend."

"Like Doug?" She asks, looking at him for an answer.

"Like Doug," he repeats, nodding his head.

He glances at you, watching you straighten up, before extending his other arm. Your overnight bag hangs from his hand, and you take it from him with a half-smile.

"I missed you," he whispers to Eloise, turning his attention back to her.

"You saw me yesterday," Eloise giggles, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"I know," he nods, groaning as he continues, "but yesterday was so long ago! I was beginning to forget what you looked like." He nuzzles his face into her chubby neck and jolts back, wriggling his nose up and pinching the end. "Have you always smelt that bad?"

She giggles some more, squealing, "silly Daddy!"

John looks at you and then back at Eloise. "So," her pigtails bounced as he adjusted her on his hip, a soft groan escaping as she pokes her finger against his jaw, "what are we doing today?"

You arch your brows. "We?"

"Yes," he smiles, looking once more at Eloise, who was pulling one of her pigtails forward, trying to look at her hair. You roll your lips, but you can't hide your smile as you watch the joy of childlike wonder fill her expression. "Me, you," he snaps your attention back to him, just in time to see him nod at her, "and her."

You grip your overnight bag tighter and shrug your shoulders. "I don't know, what are we going to do today?"

NHL Taglist: @thoseboysinblue @chilwellspulisic @lovelynikol16 @love4lando @hischierswhore

#john marino #john marino imagine #john marino smut #john marino oneshot #john marino blurb #john marino x reader #nj devils imagine #nhl imagine #nhl smut

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suiana · 1 year

Note

hihi!! yr posts are so funky i love them sm

ya have any ideas for a yandere that has no actual connection - like, you've never even seen them before and yet it's stuff like "i didn't leave that book open" - "where did my favorite shirt go" - "i just woke up why am i so sticky" rjfjfhjf

omgee I've actually been thinking about this lately HAHA,, thank u anon for giving me motivation to write this <3

✎ yandere! stalker headcanons . . .

✎ warnings . . .

― stalking, nsfw, obsessiveness, slight violence, delusional yandere etc.

(gn! reader x male yandere! oc)

✎ yandere! stalker who is absolutely obsessed with you. you don't even know him yet his whole life is dedicated to you! how romantic <3

✎ yandere! stalker who has completely memorized your schedule and everything about you. he swears that he can answer any question about you :) no one knows you better than him, not even yourself!

✎ yandere! stalker who doesn't even remember when or where his obsession for you started from. babe, you never even talked to him before! so how did he fall so deeply for you? truly a mystery...

✎ yandere! stalker who gives you plenty of gifts. you could wake up with a random box of chocolates or with your laundry done! though a shirt or two might be missing! truly a pleasant surprise, no? your stalker hopes you like his gifts! :)

✎ yandere! stalker who has so many pictures of you that it's insane. what the fuck, how does he even get these??

✎ yandere! stalker who protects you from dirty people. that weird associate who made you uncomfortable? he suddenly went missing! that old uncle who was staring at you in a nasty way? brutally beaten up in a dark alleyway! don't worry your pretty little head darling, your stalker is there to protect you ♡

✎ yandere! stalker who masterbates to the thought of you every night. god you're perfect! he wishes you would notice him :( but he supposed that you not noticing is for the better... for now.

✎ yandere! stalker who is rich and likes spending his fortune on you. your phone is slightly chipped? get ready to wake up with a brand new phone on your desk :) oh, how he loves watching your cute reactions through the teddy bear he once gifted to you <3

✎ yandere! stalker who starts to grow bolder once you've warmed up to his gifts. oh? so you like his gifts? that means you like him now right? stalker, babe, that's not how it works that means he can start getting more personal with you right?

✎ yandere! stalker who starts to touch you in your sleep. your reciprocation towards his gifts is a sign that you're okay with this right? right?!

✎ yandere! stalker who is hysterical when he sees you talking to you friends about how you hate waking up slimy in the morning. what do you mean you hate his gift to you?! do you hate him now?!

✎ yandere! stalker who gifts you multiple things to try and apologize. you must be mad at him! you surely must be! even if you don't know who he is, your complaints about being sticky is a subtle sign of your anger towards him! he can't have his reason of living being mad now, can he?

✎ yandere! stalker who impulsively kidnaps you once you decide to make a police report. no! he can't lose you to those scummy officers!

✎ yandere! stalker who knocks you out so hard that you lose your memories. and when you wake up he tells you that he's your husband. a manic grin adorning his features as he does so. this must god's way of giving him a second chance! honey... no!!

✎ yandere! stalker who would change anything about himself for you. he exists for you only. anything he does is for you. he is yours to control. he should be anything and everything you want. so please, tell him what you like! he'll do anything in his power to achieve it. even if it means dying for you.

✎ "haah~ I love you so much ♡"

#tw yandere #yandere #yandere x reader #male yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere blog #yandere hcs #yandere headcanons #yandere drabble #yandere drabbles #yandere stalker #yandere stalker headcanons #yandere stalker x reader

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bones4thecats · 4 months

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Can I please ask for a malleus and Floyd and riddle with kianna komori

But how are they react to walking in on her having a mental breakdown

By the way I did some adjustments to her character so I would appreciate it if you read it I hope any info that's on my page will be useful to you

When Their S/O Has A Mental Breakdown

Type of Writing: Request Name: When Their S/O Has a Mental Breakdown Characters: Malleus Draconia, Floyd Leech, and Riddle Rosehearts Requester: @nunezs-stuff

A/N: I've been asked who this 'Kianna' is, if you want to gain more info on her, go to the requester's account. There you can read many bits of information on this OC. But, for now, the reason behind the mental breakdown in ambiguous. By the way, the reader is in the character's year and is a separate person from Yuu.

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🐉 He never tried prying into your past, he and you had established that when you first met; neither of you would pry into each other's history

🐉 Malleus never had an issue with this agreement until today

🐉 While waiting for you so you guys could walk to class today, and when you never showed a sign of showing up, he had gone to your dorm-head, Vil Schoenheit

🐉 Vil only shrugged his shoulders and said that he and Rook had been trying to coax you out of your room for hours, only to be given the cold shoulder, or in other words, no answer

🐉 This only worried your boyfriend farther, and he had decided to try getting an answer out of you when he tried knocking on the door

" Dearest, are you alright in there? "

🐉 Malleus only gained silence pouring through his ears, alarming him. You had always answered him when he arrived at your door

🐉 Looking back at the Housewarden and Vice-Housewarden of Pomefiore, they could see how much confusion and fear was filling the Prince's eyes, sending alarms through their bodies

" Roi des Dragons, maybe they just need some time to their-self. They did seem tired last night. " " Rook is right. Y/N had come to dinner fairly pale and they were nearly asleep at the table, but it seemed something was keeping their eyes pried open. In the past three years of being alongside them, I have never seen them so tired and scared before... it was fairly alarming... "

🐉 Malleus sighed and waved for the two to leave the area, knowing the must have some kind of work to attend too. And once they left his ear-shot, he gritted his teeth and balled his hands into fists

🐉 He could feel his nails digging into his palm, causing small crescents of red to build underneath, but that was not what was hurting him at the moment; you ignoring him hurt far more

" Y/N, I am coming inside. "

🐉 Opening the door, Malleus was caught off guard to see you sitting on the ground wrapped in a blanket, swaying back and forth while staring at a photograph that laid on the ground

🐉 Your boyfriend looked at the photo and back at you, making the connection quite fast. These must be people who had hurt you in the past... how dare they...

🐉 Hearing your shaky breaths, he focused his attention back to you, you were his main priority at the moment, not those balls of scum

" My love, I am right here. Don't worry. Are you alright? "

🐉 Once his arms made their way around you, you had dug yourself into his body, tears meeting his neck as your burrowed your face into the softer flesh

" Malleus- I- oh Great Seven... "

🐉 He shushed you as you wept. He may not be super good at this, but he did help raise Silver with Lilia, he understands how to comfort someone to a decent level

🐉 While he does want to know what those people had done, for now he can leave it behind in favor of comforting you

🎭 Floyd is not the best when it comes to handling other people's emotions, and both of you understood that. He is aware of his mood swings to an extent, and you weren't very expressive most of the time, so it was a decent turnout

🎭 Your boyfriend and you landed on a middle-ground of sorts, you wouldn't pry into his emotions if he didn't pry in on yours

🎭 And for quite a while, you guys stayed on that piece of land very strongly, though, everything is bound to have a pitfall of sorts. Whether the fallen come back up and continue their path is unknown

🎭 And this was quite the pitfall

🎭 Floyd and you were just messing around together on the grounds, screwing with other people's minds by using his creepy smile and your stone-cold glare, but, when you didn't come back from your 'bathroom break', he got worried

🎭 Walking throughout the school, every student in his way stood off to the side, as they didn't want to be beaten by an angry eel

🎭 As he walked around, he called your name over and over. And, unlike many, you had no nickname related to sea-creatures, he had respect for you as his S/O, so no nickname was used after he and you sealed the deal

🎭 Now, back to the point;

🎭 Once Floyd came upon his brother and childhood friend, he had asked them where you were, only to be met by their fingers pointing to the door in front of them; your room

" Y/N-dear, please let us in... we just want to know what is the matter. " " P-please go, Azul. " " Y/N! Please let me in! Come on, it's Floydie, your eel boyfriend! Come on! "

🎭 Azul and Jade looked at one another and nodded before leaving you and Floyd alone, they knew you needed space, but they weren't gonna try angering Floyd in the progress

🎭 As time passed, Floyd gained impatient, why were you not opening the door for him?!

🎭 Eventually, your boyfriend announced he was coming in whether you liked it or not, and he began to break through the lock (willing to bet he knows some skill like that)

🎭 Once his mismatched eyes landed on your shaking form, Floyd's mood dampened. He then walked up to you and hugged you, he understood that you were having a mental breakdown, Azul had quite a few of these growing up

" Y/N... Honey... Hey, hey, I'm right here with ya', take some long breaths okay? Here, I'll do them with you! Breath in- breath out, yeah- just like that! "

🎭 Floyd continued to hold you after you calmed down, wondering what could have set you off like that. Whatever or whoever did better look out, they now have a psychotic mer-eel after them, and he doesn't give up easily

❤️ Did someone ask for the mental-breakdown expert?

❤️ Riddle and you, much like in the previous sets, have boundaries. He is very private when it comes to his home-life, with the rare few knowing about his mother

❤️ And while you and him have spoken about both your pasts once or twice, he finds himself drawing a blank when discussing himself and you, it just feels weird sharing his emotions with another being that wasn't someone he's known ever since childhood

❤️ Though, that doesn't make your relationship rocky, just somewhat rough around the edges, like Leona!

❤️ Ever since the fourth attempt to talk about your home-lives, Riddle had been busy with Housewarden duties, from getting the rose fully painted to having Un-Birthday Parties to celebrate, his schedule has been jammed-packed

❤️ But, once he reached some free-time, he had immediately messaged you, asking if you yourself was free, as he knew how ruthless Vil could be with his 'schedules' himself

❤️ As he waited seconds, minutes, and eventually a half-hour, Riddle began to wonder why you hadn't answered. He knew for a fact that Vil wouldn't have such a good member of his dorm like you busy for that long

❤️ So, after asking Cater and Trey to watch the dorm like hawks as he took care of an errand, he set his sights on the Mirror Chamber, and eventually Pomefiore's mirror

❤️ Walking through the halls, he found Vil and asked where you had been, only to receive the answer that you had requested to go to bed early, much to your superior's confusion

❤️ Riddle thanked his upper-classman before he left and went to your room. And once he reached the door, he sighed and straightened his clothing, one must not have such a messy outfit

" My Rose, are you alright in there? Vil said that you had gone to bed early, is that true? "

❤️ Hearing no reply, Riddle gained more nervousness than before

" Ah, Roi des Roses! Are you having a hard time getting into your dearest's room? Here, a key! Have a nice chat! "

❤️ Looking down at the key that Rook left in his gloved hand, Riddle groaned, that hunter really knew how to scare someone at their most oblivious, huh?

❤️ Unlocking the door and announcing his entrance, Riddle walked inside, pocketing the small apple-shaped key as he looked around for you, only to see a small form curled into a rose-pattered blanket

" Rose...? Oh sweet mercy... are you alright, dearest? " " Riddle- I- ... oh lord... "

❤️ He flinched slightly as you clung to his jacket, tears cascading out of your eyes as you cried, holding one of the few people you cared for tightly, your grip tightening with every second

❤️ Hushing you and helping you take deep breaths, Riddle pulled out his phone and messaged his Vice-Housewarden, claiming he would not be returning for the night, saying that you needed someone with you at the moment

❤️ Powering off the device and setting it aside, your boyfriend hugged you just as tight, he knew if he was in your situation he would want to be aware that he was cared for... and by the Queen of Hearts, if he could, he would take this pain away

❤️ But, for now, he's content with holding you to his chest as you slept off this pain... if you woke happily in his arms, it would all be worth it

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semisolidmind · 7 months

Note

i know it's all about the lion's den AU rn and as usual I am FEASTING on the content (excuse the crumbs) but there's an idea that won't leave me alone-

what if Peaches was not human, but an immortal from the beginning? How much would change? I know the whole appeal of these AUs - I mean, that's why I love them and I absolutely love this lil corner of the fandom. but I've been kinda diving into the whole immortality biz in Chinese myths for my oc, so now I'm curious.

Peaches could be someone cultivating and practicing Xian (i hope I'm using that right) for years, or consumed pills/elixir of immortality somehow, or a demon who is oddly very kind and empathetic - would the bois still love her just as much? How different is the dynamic now even if Peaches retains her core personality traits?

love your work! and hydrate before ya diedrate

ive been thinking about this, and i kinda like the idea of immortal reader being an attendant of the heavenly peach orchard.

not super high up the ladder, but not at the bottom either. her powers are limited to helping plants grow just a little bit, creating temporary barriers, and being able to float the way all celestials can. the higher-ups figure that since no one is bold or stupid enough to steal from heaven, they don’t need any extra security in the immortal peach groves.

you can take a guess as to how reader meets the monkeys.

they show up to the orchards, ready to fight their way to the peaches, but instead of some overpowered celestial soldiers guarding the orchard, it's....one immortal maiden. just the one. but she doesn't seem all that powerful, soooooo...

...maybe she'd agree to let them take a few without too much trouble?

the monkey bros go the "oh don't mind us we're just a couple of cute lil monkeys, here to cause adorable and harmless mischief" route in their approach to getting reader to let her gaurd down.

they approach her while she takes a break from pruning some dead branches. she's understandably surprised and suspicious about these two seemingly normal monkeys who've snuck in, but... they are pretty cute. and tame; they let her pet them and give them scritches. perhaps they're one of the heavenly official's pets. reader supposes that they can stay for a while.

wukong and macaque play their parts, get reader's guard down, and steal a couple dozen peaches each. reader notices, but there's not much she can do beyond shooing the monkeys out with a broom (and her soft heart barely allows her to do that). she knows that if she reports it, those cute lil monkeys will be hunted down and killed.

she supposes she could put in a request for higher walls around the grove, or more barriers (she still wonders how the boys managed to get through the first ones), but with how slowly things get done in the bureaucracy...it'd be a very, very long time until it was even brought up in court.

besides, even then....they're monkeys. animals. she won't place blame on them for being what they are. those little cuties probably had no idea that the immortal peaches were any different from the ones on earth.

she could never stay mad at their adorable lil faces anyways.

---

reader, despite what you might think, has a pretty laid back job. once all her chores for the day have been completed (those magic trees don't really need much beyond the essentials to do their thing), she has a good amount of free time to sit and, you guessed it—read.

macaque (because of course, he has to be the first one to fall in every au) decides, on a bored whim, to go visit that nice attendant they stole from not too long ago. perhaps he'll collect some intel while he's up there.

he finds her after a bit of searching. reader sits in a secluded corner of the grove, leisurely turning pages and enjoying the shade. macaque, still disguised, sidles up to her. reader notices, seeming surprised to see him before her face morphs into... a rather adorable pout. perhaps she thinks she's being intimidating.

'damn, no wonder the bureaucracy didn't think they needed any more security,' macaque thinks sarcastically. such a fearsome maiden they've chosen to guard the immortal peaches.

while reader takes a minute to admonish him about stealing, it isn't long before she sighs and gives up on her lecture in favor of scratching him gently behind his ears. he churrs low in his chest. her whole demeanor is as soft and sweet as the peaches she guards (her hands as well, he notes, pressing into them).

macaque laughs internally. a fearsome maiden, indeed.

macaque manages to wiggle his way into reader's lap, pulling her attention from her book. she knows she should be trying to scare him off, but...just—just look at him! he's so cute, and she's too pulled in by how cute he is to notice the oddly powerful aura he seems to exude (far too powerful to be a normal monkey). he enjoys her touch for a while longer before he hears the far-off call of his annoying brother, wondering where he is. he bumps his head into reader's hand by way of goodbye before running off to shadow away more secretively.

reader watches him go, sighing. she really should shoo him away next time.

---

macaque keeps coming back. and reader continues to be unable to kick him out.

with very few visitors and no one else to talk to, reader begins to tell him everything that she overhears during the day; the officials don't think anyone is listening when they air out their gossip as they walk by the orchard. she doesn’t know it, but she’s saving macaque the energy of using his powers to gather this intel on his own.

the six-eared demon makes a habit of showing up to the grove to laze around with his favorite maiden and listen to her read, using “spying” as the excuse he gives his brother for why he's been running off so often. reader seems to have accepted that he won't be leaving her alone any time soon, and he takes full advantage. macaque comes to think of reader and the secluded corner of the grove as his own little peice of heaven.

of course, sooner or later, wukong joins in. he's a bit angry that macaque didn't just say he was visiting the peach orchard and it's attendant; he wouldn't have minded, he would've come with! macaque doesn't bother trying to explain that he didn't want to share.

but share he does, seeing as wukong greedily takes all the attention from reader he can get. the monkey king finds himself enamored with the maiden who's hands and heart are as soft as the fruits she tends to. he won't admit it (it may hurt his carefully crafted "ruthless demon king" image if he did), but wukong is a cuddle bug when it comes to reader. everything about her is just so soft, and she's so kind, and she always smells like peaches—he could spend hours laying on her chest as she reads.

he just feels so...peaceful, with her.

the boys are entangled in reader's life, visiting whenever they can and butting into whatever she happens to be doing. they see her day to day happiness (brief conversations with the lower maids she's friends with), and her struggles (the two monkeys bore witness to the officials taking their anger out on reader over something trivial, their rage towards heaven growing stronger). the two grow more and more attached to her as time goes on.

and so they begin to work a small abduction into the grander scheme of their plan.

---

sooner or later, the monkey warlords properly raid heaven. they and their demon army storm the jade palace, murdering servants, footsoldiers, and as many officials as they can. the monkey king and the six-eared macaque lead a massacre so bloody it stains the palace walls red. wukong especially holds back none of his rage, getting caught up in his hatred for heaven and zealously continuing to shed as much celestial blood as he can.

during a lull in the chaos, macaque, covered in vicera, makes his way to the immortal peach grove. with the battle coming to a close and the demon forces being driven back, now is as good a time as ever to snatch up a special “peach” for himself and his brother.

he finds said peach preoccupied with a gallant attempt at protecting herself and a few lower maids from a demon soldier, using a series of barriers. the soldier breaks the barriers almost as fast as reader can make them, rapidly pushing her and her companions into a corner. reader puts up a brave fight, but she's a celestial attendant, not a celestial warrior.

macaque calls out to the soldier, halting their attack and telling them to regroup with the others and prepare to move out. the soldier complies, crassly assuring the women that they’re about to be nothing more than bloody pulp on the garden wall. no one has ever gone against the shadow general of the demon army and lived.

macaque waits until the soldier is out of sight before leisurely approaching the still quivering group of maids and their determined, but exhausted looking guard. reader tenses as he steps closer. she feels a horrible sense of dread crawl down her spine when she gets a good look at him.

the dark fur, the shape of the mask marking on his face...reader feels tears start to bead at the corners of her eyes.

this entire time, she'd been petting and coddling the six-eared macaque. the second in command of the dreaded demon army has been sitting right in front of her and she had no idea. reader can barely keep her breathing steady.

and if this is her dark-furred companion, then the lighter-furred one must be…oh stars.

…she let the monkey king in.

she practically threw open the doors for him. she didn’t report them when she should have, she knew there was something strange about them but she was so sure they were just normal animals—oh stars above, if the jade emperor ever discovered this, she’d be executed.

but…but reader steels herself. she can deal with that later. her friends are counting on her.

now, she’s certainly not expecting the blood-covered demon general across from her to be open to bargaining (he could just kill all of them now, but reader gets the feeling he wouldn't be merciful enough to end it quickly). and he knows exactly what leverage he has over her, she can see it in the smug look on his face.

but she tries anyways.

“let them go, please,” she begs breathlessly, arms shaking from the strain of maintaining her magic. the least she can do is buy her friends a moment more. “do whatever you want with me, but they are blameless.”

macaque chuckles, the sound reverberating lowly between the trees. whatever he wants, huh? oh, sweet peach. she should know better than to give him so much leeway.

“that is tempting. if that’s the case, then perhaps you’ll go with me willingly,” he muses, tail swaying slowly. his fangs glint dangerously when he smirks.

“don’t fight, and no harm will come to them. that, and your secret will be safe with me. honest."

reader doesn’t believe him. she can’t, but she and her friends are so low priority that calling for help would be useless. if the demon army has been as effective as the screaming would lead her to believe, the celestial host has much bigger problems than rescuing a gardener and some lowly maidservants. and with the chance that she’ll be seen through and blamed for every gory death that's happened beyond the walls of the peach groves...

she doesn’t have a choice.

reader slowly, cautiously lowers her barriers, despite the worried cries of the maids behind her. they cower closer together as reader takes a slow step closer to macaque.

with a flick of his wrist, reader is struck by a sleeping spell so potent she falls into macaque's waiting arms like a lead weight. the demon gathers his beloved into his hold with a gentleness that doesn't fit his gory visage.

he sinks into a shadow, leaving the maids to clutch each other and cry at the loss of reader and the near loss of their own lives.

---

reader wakes up days later in the royal bedchambers of the stone palace. she startles at seeing the monkey king and the six-eared macaque laying on either side of her, stripped to just a loose pair of pants each. she herself has been changed to a comfortable silk robe, her own clothing nowhere to be seen.

reader feels a cold sludge in her gut. she scrambles out of the pillow pit, kicking a few into the face of one of her captors as she goes. she checks herself over, looking for bite marks, claw marks, anything to indicate the two demons sharing a bed with her had violated her in any way. she looks, and breathes a heavy sigh.

she finds nothing.

"we figured we'd wait until you were awake to start marking territory," the tired, yet still somehow smug voice of the monkey king chimes from behind her. reader turns to see the demon leveling an amorous look her way. his gold and crimson eyes burn like fire in the low light.

reader ignores him in favor of falling to her knees and burying her face in her hands. now that she has a moment to think, her failure has decided to take centerstage; she was the one who let the monkey king into the jade palace, she let him steal the immortal peaches, she's the one who carelessly shared all the gossip that told them when the best time to attack would be, she's to blame for all the lives lost—

"hey. y'know we would've raided heaven even if we hadn't met you, right? it's not your fault," macaque says, propping his head in his hand to look at her. he doesn't have the decency to hide how he's sizing her up, poison purple eyes glowing whilst tracing her curves. reader shrinks into herself a bit more.

"yep. don't feel too bad, peaches. i was never gonna spare any of those bureaucrats in the first place," wukong adds. "and besides, none of those guys cared about you anyway, so why feel bad?"

reader sobs, pressing her hands to her eyes. she knows. she knows how callous the officials could be, but that doesn't mean they deserved to die. it doesn't mean the servants and foot soldiers who were only following orders deserved their fates.

she hears movement, then feels a set of strong, furred arms wrap around her. wukong rests his head on her shoulder. he nuzzles his nose against her neck. she feels his warm breath and the glance of deadly sharp fangs when he speaks.

"they didn't deserve the mercy you seem to think they did."

---

wukong places a seal on reader's powers. what little defense she had against them is gone with the placement of a brand-like marking in between her shoulder blades (and a few more along her shoulders made with his teeth).

reader can't do anything. wukong won't let her leave, and even if she could, the heavenly court will have her executed if she goes back. so, she remains on the monkey king's mountain.

she didn't think she'd share a fate with the precious fruit she'd failed to protect.

#bad end wukong #twice as bad au #immortal peach au #i guess??? cause shes an immortal???#this got waaay longer than expected #got tired and couldnt figure out how to end it #dialogue is hard

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lavendersartistry · 2 months

Text

You Love Them, Don't You?

Space Riders AU - @onyxonline KoiRite - @lavendersartistry

This fic is for onyxonline's Space Riders AU, this time with shenanigans in KoiRite's planet Imbeko! This fic is mainly centered around Onyx's OC Z and my OC, KoiRite! Please check Onyx out, their work is super cool!

Bhekumbuso, a raging province of Imbeko and home to the panthers. The state for improvement of one's values and goals; the leader.

As welcoming as it was, a particular masked tuxedo cat kept to himself for the time being. Z stayed in the shadows as he observed the servants at work within the palace. He took in the sites, the interior of the whole place.

"Enjoying yourself, Tux?"

Z suddenly turned his head, his own helmet meeting Koi's. Then down to her attire. He crossed his arms, lightly scoffing.

"Coming back from a mission, Warrior?"

Koi let her helmet disappear at silent command, the rose gold fangs framing her face once the protective material dissolved. She tilted her neck as the bones quietly cracked.

"Unfortunately. I apologize I wasn't at the entrance to give you a tour of Bhekumbuso. I hope my brothers weren't a handful."

Z shrugged, nodding off her apology.

"They were alright, nothing too bad. But about a tour of the palace-"

"Hold on there."

Koi handed him a shawl with embroidered patterns of Imbeko's mythological creatures. She lightly patted his shoulder with a small chuckle.

"Mother would scold me if you weren't given the guest shawl when you came. It's yours to keep if you want."

Z nodded, taking a look back at the detail. Koi smirked and walked off, starting off the tour of the palace.

-------------------------------

"So, you and Solaris?"

Z turned his head to Koi as the two were out in the garden, the visor on his helmet making a confused expression.

"What do you mean?"

Koi glanced his way with a soft smirk and leaned back against a savannah tree.

"I've seen it, the times you fall secretly for him."

Z turned his head away, sighing heavily as he rested his head on his closed fist. He didn't think it wouldn't be possible.

"It can't happen. I've done things... and I don't think it wouldn't be possible for us.."

Koi raised a eyebrow then placed her hand on his shoulder.

"You underestimate DogDay. He understands you, cares for you. Who says it's not possible for you two?"

Z's ears on his helmet pinned down to his head, showing his fear.

"Koi, I-"

"You love him, don't you? Then try. Try to let yourself see that everyone is right here for you. Even him."

Z then went silent to Koi's assuring words. Then he nodded.

He just has to try.

#mutuals | sillies online #mutual: onyxonline #Space Riders AU - onyxonline au #space riders au #smiling critters au #smiling critters #casually plays I Wont Say Im In Love in the background #ITLL BE FINE Z DONT WORRY BOUT IT #writing Z as accurate as i could for reasons that I CANNOT SAY #top secret things #yall gotta wait for that bit

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pricklepearbloom · 5 months

Note

Hey I've love love loved your acotar fics and was wondering if you could do like a jealousy fic with az like he's being completely irrational about the amount of time your spending with one of his brothers but you only love him and he goes to elain for comfort but it ends in fluff after a big argument because as we know he struggles to regulate/show his emotions thanksss

-🥒

a/n: hey loveee I hope this is something along the lines of what you wanted! I've never done an ask before (omg first!!) If anyone else has any request, don't be afraid to slide into my inbox bb.

All I Want

Pairing: Azriel x OC (Ruby)

Warnings: just some good old-fashioned angst, not beta read

Word count: 3.5K

As the morning sunlight gently filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room, Ruby found herself in a cocoon of comfort, wrapped in the tender embrace of the love of her life, her sweet mate Azriel. The soft rhythm of his breathing and his heart synchronized with hers in a sweet lullaby. In the mornings, it felt like the world outside the haven of their bedroom seemed to pause before the chaos of the day began. Gods she loved weekends, nothing to do but relax and stay cozy Ruby mused as she cuddled in further into her mate’s strong chest.

He pulled her closer as he began to wake placing a soft kiss on her head, practically shoving his nose into her hair to drown in the scent of her shampoo. “Mmm what time is it?” Ruby lightly rasped out, voice rough from disuse. “Who cares, I intend to stay right here all day.” Azriel replied as he gave her a small squeeze, running a thumb lightly along the small of her back. Ruby smiled softly letting her brain imagine spending all day in bed.

Shoot. She couldn’t spend all day in bed. Ruby’s eyes shot open and she sat up at breakneck speed. Azriel scrunched his brows and followed her up to a sitting position. “Is everything alright? Hey, wait where are you going?” He calls as Ruby jumps out of bed throwing on her dressing robe running into the bathroom.

“I’m sorry! I totally forgot I promised Cassian that I would meet with him today.” Ruby said her voice muddled from speaking with her toothbrush in her mouth. Azriel felt his stomach drop a bit, he had been looking forward to spending time with her today. Rhys had been piling more and more work on his plate and he promised he wouldn’t intervene today. “But wai-“ he tried to get out “I’m sorry I’m running terribly late I can’t believe I forgot, he’s going to kill me.”

Azriel took a deep breath as he watched her run around their bedroom putting on undergarments then picking up and smelling and pair of pants, making a face and putting it back down before repeating the process until she had found one that suited whatever clearly questionable requirements she had for clean laundry.

“I’ll be back later okay?” Ruby glanced up from pulling her shoes on her feet and saw the slightly lost look on Azriel’s face as he was still sitting upright in bed, mouth slightly ajar. She felt a kernel of guilt tighten in her stomach. “I can cancel if you want. I’m sorry I forgot to mention it, Cassian asked me to help him pick out an anniversary present for Nesta and you know him, he’s useless at that kind of stuff.”

Her eyes softened and she crawled back on the bed placing a soft kiss on Azriel’s sharp jawline that seemed clenched before immediately relaxing after feeling her soft lips on his face. “But if you want, I can absolutely cancel, and we can stay in bed and spend the day together?” He shook his head lightly, “no, it’s fine. You should go. Someone needs to stop him from buying her an engraved horse saddle.” He sighed “I’ll just miss you; will you be back later? Maybe we can make hot cocoa and read together?”

A fond smile came to Ruby’s lips at the idea. “That sounds lovely darling. I think I should be back just after lunch; I’ll see if we can stop by the bakery to get some of those pastries that you love.” She scooted off of the bed before leaning back in for one last kiss. Azriel wanted to make it count, his hand gently caressed her jaw and neck, thumb swiping back and forth along her cheek as he firmly planted a deep kiss that sent Ruby reeling. Azriel’s kisses were always filled with passion and love, they were like a drug to her, she could never get enough. Azriel was the first to pull away, a small smirk on his face seeing her eyes still shut spinning from his kiss. Still got it, he thought to himself smugly. “I love you.” She said softly before practically prancing out of the room, taking Azriel’s heart with her.

That was only the beginning, it seemed. Azriel noticed that Ruby seemed to be spending a lot of time with Cassian. Rationally he knew that nothing would ever happen between them, but his feelings didn’t seem to care much for rationality when Ruby was concerned. His anxiety rose higher and higher as the weeks passed on, holding it all in until one day, after coming home from a long and hard mission, he came to his breaking point.

Muscles aching from a mission, Azriel landed on the balcony of the Townhouse to see Rhys. Meetings with Rhys could take either five minutes or an hour and he had a feeling that this particular meeting was going to be on the longer side. He mentally groaned, his entire body was practically screaming at him to return to his home and wrap his arms around his warm, soft, loving mate. Ignoring the buzz that’s ever present when he thinks about Ruby, he steps off of the balcony and opens the glass door and is met with a rush of warm air and the comforting scent of his home and- is… is that his mate?

His pupils immediately dilated, and his pace picked up tenfold. He swiftly moved through the house following her unmistakable scent, his ears perking up at the sound of her laughter. His ears picked up a low rumble that distinctly did not sound like his mate. His hackles immediately rose as he rounded the corner to see Ruby and Cassian sitting side by side on the couch. He was operating on fumes and all his mind saw at that moment was the love of his life with a man that was not him and all. he. saw. was. red.

“What is this.” His voice cut through the warm atmosphere like his truth teller on a mission. Ruby’s eyes snapped up to meet his and lit up with excitement “Az!” Jumping up off of the couch to greet him. She took in his tight expression and lowered her arms that were barely raised to embrace him.

“What’s wrong?” She said cautiously taking a step toward him “Oh, not much. Just came here to debrief before going home after a very long day to see my faithful, loving mate. Only come to find her here with my brother.” Ruby’s eyebrows scrunched shocked while Cassian’s rose to his forehead “Azriel. You’re out of line.” Cassian said slowly rising from his seat on the couch with a confused expression on his face.

Cassian’s defense only served to anger Azriel even more. Obviously if he was being defensive that meant that something was going on. Ruby had been spending an obscene amount of time with Cassian, something more had to be going on. “Am I? Please, Cassian, tell me why you’re spending your night with my mate when you have your own to attend to? Or is she not enough for you anymore that you had to take what was mine as well.” Azriel practically spat out, his shadows lashing out from his body reacting to his heightened emotions.

Cassian’s eyes darkened at the slight against Nesta. “Don’t speak a word about my mate. She is and will always be enough for me. What is going on with you? This isn’t like you at all.” And he was right, the emotions that were roiling through Azriel didn’t feel like him at all. Usually, he would be ecstatic to see his mate and his brother getting along so well. When they first met, Ruby had some issues with feeling welcome into the inner circle. They were a tight nit group, and she was easily overwhelmed by the depth that each of them knew each other, it often felt like she would never find her place beyond being Azriel’s mate.

“Cass do you mind giving us the room for a minute?” Ruby said gently, not letting her eyes leave Azriel’s. Once the war general gave a tense nod and slipped through the doorway to give the couple some privacy, Ruby took another step toward Azriel. “Az,” Ruby said hesitantly “I promise nothing was going on, Cassian and I were just catching up. Why don’t you take a seat, and we can talk about whatever’s going through your head?” A wave of embarrassment flooded through Azriel, but he shrugged it off, choosing to shut down instead. “Unfortunately, I need to meet with Rhys to debrief. I’ll meet you at home.” Ruby’s eyes sharpened at his harsh tone. “Fine. But don’t come back until you figured out what the hell is going on with you and you’re ready to talk.” Azriel didn’t bother to acknowledge her as he strode out of the room headed for Rhys’ office.

Following the fight, Ruby went home and sat and waited for Azriel to come back. She reflected on their little spat and agonized over every word. What could she had said differently? It pained her that her mate was hurting and that he wouldn’t let her help. When he comes home, she thought, we’ll sit here and talk about whatever is going on with him and then we’ll move forward from there. That’s all we can do.

But minutes turned to hours and Ruby still sat on the couch. A debrief had never gone on this long before and Ruby was sure that he was probably just taking some time to cool off. She didn’t move from her spot on the couch as the day turned to night and somewhere in the late hours of the night, she fell asleep on the couch, still waiting.

A door shutting woke Ruby from her slumber, her neck aching with the pain of being held in the wrong position for too long. Ruby reached up, trying to rub the ache away her eyes locking onto the dark figure standing in the archway that leads to their living area. “Hi.” Azriel said hoarsely “What time is it?” Ruby said her gaze peering out of the window seeing the light peek through the linen curtains they had picked out together “Did you just get home?” Azriel nodded unable to meet her eyes. “W-Where have you been? Why didn’t you come home last night? I waited up all night for you.” Ruby said standing from her place on the couch, leaving the imprint of her body on the couch from hours of use.

“I stayed with Elain for the night.” Ruby’s heart sunk through the floor. It was no secret that there was bad blood between the two. Azriel and Elain had an attachment of sorts until Ruby came into the picture and Elain made it very clear that she was not a fan of Ruby. She was constantly spouting vitriol about Ruby while she was still new to the inner circle, never in ear shot of Azriel of course. Eventually, Ruby made her discomfort known to Azriel and he had put distance between himself and Elain. His interest in her had been waning for some time and when Ruby came into his life, he didn’t give the Archeron sister another thought. His heart and mind set on the kind and strong female that the cauldron had blessed him with.

“Why?” Ruby’s rasped through a tight throat, thick with emotion. “Did you- Azriel did you cheat on me?” Her eyes welled up with tears as she stared at him incredulously, a sharp pain shot through her chest at the idea.

“No, no. I would never do that to you Ruby. I just...” he paused dropping his gaze to the floor. “I wanted you to feel how it felt when I saw you with Cassian.” Now that the words had left his mouth, he wished he could take them back. He wished he could shove them into a box and never let them see the light of day again because the look on Ruby’s face, it was enough to make him want to take truth teller and shove it into his gut until he bled out at her feet.

“You- you went to Elain’s to get back at me?” she said hoping that her ears had been lying to her and she didn’t hear that her mate had done something so… so spiteful. She had been trying to hold them back but once the first tear came it was like opening the floodgates. Azriel took a step forward reaching out to brush them away and to comfort her but she matched his step, taking one backward, flinching away from his hand. “I think I need some space.” She stepped past the couch that she had been sitting at all night waiting for him to come home so they could make up, but he was with her.

Azriel lightly grabbed her wrist as she passed him intending to head quickly toward the stairs that led to their bedroom. “Ruby, please. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.” Ruby jerked her arm out of his grasp spinning around on him. “Really? You weren’t thinking for the entire night? I find that incredibly hard to believe Azriel. Leave me alone.” She practically ran up the stairs and slammed the door shut, locking it swiftly. She practically collapses into sobs on their bed, her tears staining the pillows still made and fluffed from yesterday morning.

Azriel’s heart shattered into pieces as he tried the door handle, finding himself locked out of his bedroom, unable to console and comfort his mate who he betrayed. He felt like beyond an idiot. What was he thinking? Going to Elain of all people? After his meeting with Rhys, he felt his emotions pulling himself in a million directions. He ran into her in the kitchen, fully intending on going home to sort things out with his mate, she saw the look in his eyes and offered an ear and some tea. A dark part in Azriel thought well if his mate was going to talk to another male then he could talk to another female. A large part of his heart ached to be with Ruby, but mess of his feelings kept him seated. They sat there all night talking and the next thing he knew it was light outside marking the next day.

If he could turn back time, he would slit his own throat before sitting to tea with Elain. It would probably hurt less than he felt now, hearing his mate’s sobs through the locked door knowing there was nothing he could do to help. “Please, Ruby.” He croaked out after hours of sitting outside of the door. “I’m sorry. I… I was jealous and stupid, and I wanted to make you hurt like I was hurting. It’s felt like you’ve picked Cassian over me for weeks and I didn’t know how to talk to you about it. I’m so sorry my love, you deserve a better mate.” Her cries had softened to a sniffle and he heard a click of the door. It surprised Azriel who had been sitting on the ground, head hung low.

He shot up, the door opening to reveal Ruby with a red nose and puffy eyes, irritated from hours of crying. He didn’t think his heart could break any further, but he found himself wrong once again.

“I don’t deserve a better mate. I have the perfect mate, Azriel.” She said softly, his heart daring to lift an inch off of the ground of the pit that it found itself in at her words. “I deserved to be treated better though, yes.” He hung his head nodding solemnly. Ruby walked back to bed and crawled beneath the sheets. Azriel hesitated to get close to her, his eyes shone with tears unshed. The desperation to be close to her was palpable and Ruby granted him mercy lightly tapping on the bedspread next to her. He wasn’t going to question her as he kicked off his boots practically racing for the bed before she changed her mind. They lay side by side turned so they could see each other. Whenever they were in bed, they were always wrapped in each other’s arms so not being able to touch her was agony for Azriel.

“What happened Az? Why didn’t you talk to me about how you were feeling with me seeing Cassian?” She whispered, wrapping her arms around herself as a way to comfort herself from the conversation they were having. Azriel reached out to tuck a piece of hair that had fallen into her face before thinking better of it halfway and pulling it back away. Ruby gently grabbed his hand and led it back to her cheek. As upset as she was, she craved the comfort that only he could provide. He caressed the side of her face, his thumb gently stroking back and forth. She closed her eyes feeling the familiar sensation, relishing in the warmth and care he provided.

“I was embarrassed, I think. I know you would never cheat on me but whenever you left to see him it felt like you were choosing him over me. And then it felt like you were spending all of your time with him and I felt like I wasn’t enough for you. Like you had to seek happiness elsewhere with someone more worthy.” He whispered back the insecurities that had flooded his brain as of late. Ruby shook her head vehemently, “I’m sorry you were feeling like that Az, I had no idea. Why do you keep saying that you aren’t worthy? You are.” She pressed not breaking eye contact with him as if to hammer home her reassurance. He didn’t deserve his kind mate. He should be reassuring her and here he was blubbering about his insecurities. “I don’t know. You are this ball of light and bring so much warmth into my life and what do I bring you? Baggage and pain.” He held his breath as he dared to whisper his deepest thoughts. As if, if he spoke them too loudly, she would realize his words to be truth and would up and leave. But she didn’t. She just shook her head sadly.

“I wish you saw yourself the way I saw you. You are strong, you’re a loyal friend,” he flinched, he wasn’t being very loyal when he went to Elain, Ruby gave him a knowing look. “We’ll get there. You are the best person I know Az. I wish you gave yourself the benefit of the doubt.” Ruby gave a moment of pause watching Azriel shake his head in disagreement “Do you think that I am a good person?” He nodded, “of course. The absolute best.” “Then why would my mate be someone terrible? Wouldn’t it make sense for the one that my soul is bound to by the cauldron to be just as good?” Azriel pondered, he had never thought about it that way before.

Ruby nodded to herself before taking a deep breath “So. Tell me about Elain.” Azriel shut his eyes. “Gods I’m such an idiot. I’m so sorry my love. I promise that nothing happened, I was fired up after the meeting and she and I just talked. I acted despicably and if I could do it all over again, I would come straight home. Words-“ His voice cracked and he cleared his throat “words cannot express how awful I feel about it. If you want me to never speak to her again I will, just say the word. Please don’t leave me. Please. I’ll do anything.” He had never begged before, but he wasn’t above getting down on his knees for this female that ruled his world.

Ruby shook her head lightly “I’m not leaving you.” A weight lifted off of Azriel’s shoulders at her words and he began softly crying tears of relief. The rare sight of Azriel crying was too much for Ruby’s heart to handle and she wrapped her arms around her mate holding him tight. “What you did wasn’t okay. You lashed out to hurt me and I won’t just stand by and be your punching bag when you don’t know how to express your emotions.” Azriel nodded pressing his nose further into her hair taking a deep breath centering himself in her scent. She was here, she wasn’t leaving. “I’ll do better, I promise. I’ll communicate more when I’m feeling upset and we can work through it together.” Ruby nuzzled into his chest humming her approval. “And I’ll be more sensitive to making quality time with you a priority.” They stayed like that for an hour before Ruby broke the silence. “What if we took a little time off from the world? Spent some time just cooped up here, getting back into our groove and patching everything up?” Azriel let out a deep sigh a small fond smile finally taking to his face. “Yes, my love. That sounds wonderful.” They spent the rest of the day there, holding on to each other basking in the other’s warmth.

#azriel angst #azriel x oc #azriel x reader #acotar #azriel #no beta we die like men #request #acotar request #if this doesn't make sense #dont tell me

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