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toji-bunny-girl · 3 months ago

Note

bartender toji fucking the living daylights out of us after a nasty breakup ? also have a nice day

ON THE H★USE !!

#𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐀𝐆 ⟢ bartender!Toji Fushiguro x fem!reader #𝑺𝒀𝑵𝑶𝑷𝑺𝑰𝑺 ⟢ riding the hot bartender after a break up is the least expected thing you’ll ever think of #𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 ⟢ alcohol, pet names, foreplay, fingering, teasing, grinding, pre-cum, no protection, creampie, car sex, nipple play, squirting, size difference, big dick toji papa, alpha toji with xxxxxxxxl dick, multiple orgasm, one-sided drunk sex (?), power play, I’m so lazy to do tags, who even reads content warnings tbh #𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑫 𝑪𝑶𝑼𝑵𝑻 ⟢ 4k #𝑨/𝑵 ⟢ don’t let this flop guys I spent way too much time on this when I should be studying for my exam 😭

“Plus, he literally had to beg me to act like I was cummin’ when he stuck his sorry excuse of a dick in me!” your eyelids hung heavily over your eyes as you exclaimed, brows shooting down in a frown. “Get a load of that guy, am I right?”

“He doesn’t pay for your stuff, and he can’t fuck good?!” Toji teasingly mirrored your tone as he manoeuvre behind the bar, uniform taut from the way he natchly flexed his arms; the bottles clinking as he worked deftly to craft out the beverage you ordered. “What a man.”

It has been 2 hours since you’ve been rambling on about your ex-boyfriend, and the ravenette felt like he’d known this stranger for years—all of his secrets and traits aired into his ears. Albeit, it was getting a bit boring, with the same repeated stories tumbling out of your voluble mouth. But still, he enjoyed chuckling at your adorable insobriety, fuelled by drunken mania.

“Here you go, princess,” a small tug lifted the ends of his scarred lips when your eyes patently glimmered at the newly served alcohol. “It’s the last I can give you, we’re closing…” Toji’s eyes momentarily flickered to his watch, “in 7 minutes.”

“Oh, okay!” you deliriously yawped, downing the beverage into your liqueur-brimmed system before handing him your card, which you aimlessly threw at him, not even lucid of your motions. “Just swipe it.”

Toji simply brushed it off, taking it towards the other side of the counter. He's used to unintentional antics like yours, as long as the tab was paid off he has no problem with them.

15,900 yen.

The digits flashed past his eyes like stars, igniting a luminous glint in his dark emerald orbs. Hell, was it a sum to casually splurge on at some mid-high bar? He’s got a pretty girl with probably an equally pretty amount of personality in her wallet, sprawled on the bar top wailing about her broken heart.

Oh, how he would love to play saviour.

“Here, princess. Time to go home,” he tapped your card onto the counter after the successful transaction. His gruff voice was low as you drifted further from your haywired consciousness and towards a delicious drowse. You didn’t move when he neared your face, attempting to marshal up your scattered coherence by calling into your ear.

Toji sighed as he leaned back onto his feet, and crossed his bulky arms, pondering the ways to get you out of the otherwise empty bar.

It was 12:58 am and the other inebriated customers had gone out by themselves or with their friends dragging them along. Except for you, softly snoring on the sticky counter.

His coworker shrugged at him when the ravennette glanced at the shorter male for help. “Just get her out of here. I’ll clean up the rest, and you owe me this one,” always so kind—how Toji wished he could smooch that man right then.

“Thanks, man,” Toji’s eyes curved in moon crescents, before settling his sight onto your dozed frame. His finger pressed against your temple, and your head lolled to the side in suit of a light push; a trail of drool slipping past your plump lips. You were completely and utterly out of it, huh?

Grasping onto your arm, the male lightly shook you awake, the warmth from his calloused palm stimulating your nerves vivified. “Hey, Mr. Bartender…” you had an uneven smile on your crooked lips, sleepiness bubbling into the air with every laggard blink as you breathily chuckled. “Are you gonna bring me home?”

“I don’t know about that, princess,” his tone was syrupy sweet and it licked the ends of your lips upwards into a velvety grin. “But we gotta go now. Come on,” Toji’s hands came to yours, gently pulling you off of the bar stool. You followed after his guide, slipping your card into your pocket before frisking behind him like a lamb to the door.

The burly male turned to his wrist after the door swung close in the wake of your exit, checking his watch; it read 1:04 am. The train station is closed and it’s going to kill his conscience if he leaves you by the streets like he always does with intoxicated male customers. He has no idea where you stay anyway—best to call a friend of yours to take you home.

“(Y/N)?”

A grating, vexatious voice called. The two of you swivelled your gaze to the source to find your cheating, insipid creature of an ex with an arm thrown over some chick’s shoulders, chortling at the unstable mess you were. Your eyes were puffy and tumid from the hours of crying slash ranting session, and you were anything but lucid from the way you looked.

How fucking lucky.

“What you got going on here? Getting kicked out of a bar?” your ex taunted, nearing his face to yours as you narrowed your eyes at him.

“Y-You…as—”

“Have the lady some of her space, buddy,” Toji’s authoritative voice prevailed over yours as he pushed the male away, rendering him to helplessly stumble backward into a fall. The woman in his arm hid her giggle with a gasp before helping his fuming ass up, his face beet red from his ignominious tumble.

“Who are you?” he barked, eyelids flying open to show the hidden whites and teeth bared in belligerence.

“A man who can make her cum, without begging her to fake it,” the woman burst into a half-concealed snicker when the ravennette broke the air with his unanticipated words. Your face grew to be saturated with ardent red, from both the intoxicant that coursed through your veins and the sentence you thought you had heard.

“I call it bullshit,” your ex spat with his upper lip pulled up in disrelish. There’s a flash of humiliation in his glare—he knew Toji seemed better than him and it killed him to know you’ve got suitors who are way out of his league.

“It’s true,” you tapped Toji’s metallically stiff chest with a twisted, satisfied smirk on your rat-arsed face. “He toootally didn’t just stick his dick in me and call it a day, y’know?”

“Fucking whore.”

“What d’ya say?!” you screeched, ready to pounce on the asshole. “I sent you to the ER once, and I’ll do it again!”

“Alright, that’s enough, princess,” Toji tenaciously held onto your arm, and you’re stuck by him even without him using much strength. “We don’t want you dirtying your hands, do we?”

A nasty shove met the male’s chest, knocking the air out of his lungs when he hit the ground. It was merely a fraction of Toji’s force, and it already had the male choking to breathe on the ground.

“Speak to her like that again, and it’s not going to be just a push,” you could hear the rise of a dour, serrated threat in his tone, and it begot the asshole to cower back in trepidation.

Pussy, Toji grimace. Albeit he was no saint himself but he absolutely despises the ilk of guys your ex filtered into—boisterous and a bully to women, yet nothing but a trifling mutt in front of men.

A tug of his arm, and your limbs wrapped around his wretched him out of his state of visceral contempt. “Take me home!” you ineptly exclaimed, a gruntled grin on your adorable, roguish face.

Briefly riveting his baleful gaze onto the splayed male on the bitumen, Toji steered you uphill towards the parking lot as you clumsily tottered aside him.

The encounter with the small-dick fucker sure rendered him more understanding of your evening of outburst. Plus, for you to be cheated on that piece of work was truly the icing on the cake. “Poor you, huh?”

“Forget ‘bout him! You were so cool I almost cummed right there and then,” you teasingly giggled as you peered at him through your heavy eyelids.

Fuck—it’s no good for you to be saying that with that look on your face.

His eyes rest ahead the road as you soon come to near the bright red C8 Corvette the woman he’s estranged with had previously gifted him, the car standing out amongst the parked vehicles like a sore thumb.

Your eyes scintillated in awe when the car luridly flashed and beeped in the night, “That’s yours?!” you cried aloud, frisking all the way to the car, before stumbling over thin air and nearly jolting forward into a fall. Luckily, Toji was quick enough to catch you by your arm, saving your knee a painful event of bloody excoriation. “Oopsie daisie.”

Cute, Toji chortled.

Jumping into the vehicle, the potent roar of the engine cut through the midnight air after you’ve settled neatly in the passenger seat, the only thing missing was the safety belt that was supposed to secure your form. Reaching to your side, Toji’s hand briefly brushed over your exposed thigh, the hem of your short dress riding up to merely cover your panty.

A soft, almost inaudible noise fled your lips, and his eyes laid on your face, the faint, intimate gold beam from the street lamp illuminating your glowing features. Your orbs were luminous through the dark, and it roused an innate lasciviousness that lay dormant in his core.

The liquor that flowed through your blood vessels had not quelled through the lapse of time, but it did not take away your clarity to feel the tension that electrified the air molecules into sweltering magnetism. And gosh do you want to snatch the constriction in the atmosphere and tear it through your canines.

“Touch me,” you whispered, so soft and vulnerable Toji could seemingly snap you in half with just a touch.

“You’re drunk, princess,” he reminded, yet he remained unshifted over your smaller frame, his hand merely a molecule from your tempting flesh that sang for his warmth.

“No,” you were firm. Something in you purled, bubbling a heavy, demanding need to have him devour you. “I want you,” your breath was hot, scorchingly so; airy and desperate.

“You want me?” his hand fell to your wrist, grasping your soft skin under his heavy hold, and guiding you over to his seat, straddling his lap. His gaze cut through your eyes, daubing pressure against your jumbled nerves, his intensity threatened to slice through the silky jugular of your vulnerability. And you nearly moaned under his eyes.

You gingerly nodded at him, and you thought the knit between your brows was enough to speak for your neediness.

His grip on your wrist tightened a fraction before you missed the heat radiating from his palm. “Careful, princess. You might regret this,” he had paved a way out, it’s a leave it or fuck it situation served beneath your fingertip—and all the atoms in your body leaped into the growling blaze in the abyss residing in his essence.

“Please,” your voice was barely a note above a mumble, yet the weight of your single word mitigated any marshalled resistance in him.

His hands slid up your thighs, inching under your dress, sending tingles to your throbbing core. The intensity that radiated from him ceased to waver as he leaned against your neck, brushing against your skin as you gulped. Dark, ashen clouds drew above the emerald forest of his before he spoke, almost threateningly against your throat, “I want you to remember every single detail of this in the morning.”

With a breathless nod, you had swung the floodgates of your amenability open to his guttural thirst. The heavy, rapacious waves of your desires crash into superposition. You were the fuel and he was the fire, together the air detonated into space.

His wet lips met yours in a whim, sucking onto your flesh until it stung, greedily tasting every crook and cranny of your wet cavern with the bumps of his tongue. You moaned into his mouth as your hands flew to clutch onto his head, deepening the kiss to reach his insides while his rough fingers sank into the plump flesh of your ass.

Your lips burned with his saliva, and his tongue fluttered with yours. The atmosphere felt all-consuming, gripping onto your throat and restricting the air from flushing down your windpipe. Yet, your core pulsed between your thighs, an excited blaze slowly roaring into something bigger than you could handle.

Your chest rose and fell in a quick tempo when you snatched your lips away from his, grasping as much air as you could within a second before you dove right into him. Albeit your sight was hazy, you caught sight of the luminous flush that panned over his cheeks.

Pretty, pretty. You chanted in your head as your hands slid down to his clothes, clumsily popping the buttons off of the garment that kept the warmth of his skin away from your touch. You want him, you want him.

Your fingers nearly melted when they met his hot, sinewy chest, and Toji’s teeth sank a little too hard into your bottom lip when you teased his nipples under your touch, innervating them hard with every flick. The salient bulge in his pants rolled against your folds, merely separated by an annoying piece of your underwear, and your moans jumbled into each other’s mouths

“Fuck, princess. You’re driving me crazy,” Toji breathily groaned when your sloppy lips sundered apart, a hot string of mixed saliva connecting your swollen, red lips together. His large hands lifted your ass up into the air as he palmed them, the warmth from him sending a snuggly sensation through your body. “It’s no fun when only you get to tease.”

Your eyes playfully gleamed, before the light shot out of the crater of your orbs—his finger pressed against your sodden panty, damp with arousal. The tingles shyly reached through your belly as he rubbed your hardening bud, and your body shuddered against his.

“You’re not playing fair,” he murmured against your jaw, leaving trails of bruised kisses down your jugular. His hand left your heat just as the high came close to your clutch, leaving you with nothing but the lingering cold touches of his.

With a defeated sigh, you ground your knee against his growing hardness, your finger shyly rubbing against the clothed tip of the constrained mount, the spot slowly growing dark from amativeness.

Toji sunk deeper into the headrest as you touched him, his exposed chest ceaselessly rising and falling. His breath hitched in his throat when you twirled his sensitive nipple between your fingers; your heated exhales warming the side of his neck as his grip almost painfully firmed onto the fat of your ass.

You didn’t allow his peaking orgasm to come through, forcing yourself off of his sore, throbbing erection, and your teeth bared into a dirty smile. “I am playing fair.”

“You want to test me, princess?” he chuckled, the bassy timbre of his scratching the knot of an itch inside your ears. A gasp leaped out of your throat as your body jolted forward, his seat clicked backward to its maximum taut, “I’ll make you cry for more.”

You found your back nestled in his stead, your thighs spread open with his calloused hand slipping down your supple flesh. His fingers tapped nearer and nearer to your heat, before slipping off your soiled panty.

“So fuckin’ wet,” Toji sucked an inhale through his teeth as he leered at your dripping sex—thick, rough thumb fluttering friction on your clit once again. Your eyelids flitted shut as you softly moaned against the air, the smell of your arousal filled the confinement of the car; the scent nearly making him growl when it panged hard against his nostrils.

You watched as Toji slipped a thick finger into your velvety folds, feeling it trodding past your walls. Your heat snugly enveloped him as he filled your inside with another digit, his two fingers pressing, and running themselves over your slick cunny. “Gotta stretch you good for me, princess.”

Your back inched into the seat with a contented sigh, enjoying the build-up of ticklish pressure stacking up your tummy. Toji was ridiculously dexterous with his fingers—deftly stroking your cunt, and quick to find the spot in you that innervated your pure senses with a ting.

“S-Shit—” your body was subservient to his touches; your spine curved into an arch, your toes curled tight and your fingernails dug into the flesh of his arm. “M’feel so good. Toji—fuck,” it was as if his fingers were gilded in Eros’ heavenly blessing, the godly grace spilling into your pleasure. Tears began prickling at the sides of your eyes from how hard you were squeezing them, your flailing legs kicking against the dashboard of his car.

“So pretty when you cry,” Toji groaned under his breath, his damp restraints painfully throbbing from the way your squelching walls tightened around his fingers—oh, how he fucking wish it was his cock in you right there and then.

His touches were singing your walls into melting squirts of drool, pearls of arousal weeping between your thighs in the wake of his careful strokes. Never were you touched in such a way, and you felt like balling from how good it felt. “M’ close! M’gonna cum! Oh my gosh—!”

“Come on. Cum for me, princess,” you could hear his smirk in his voice as pleasure kissed your senses, fluttering through your electrified nerves and sending a jolt of tingles all over your body. Your mouth was lax open into an ‘o’, nails marking his skin as they sank deeper into his arm, and your walls tightly spasmed with a wave of rough euphoria cracking your bones weak. You fucking came from his mere fingers.

Your eyes bat open with your lips sundered from your pants, your face ardently glowing from your subduing high. “Fuck…” your wet thighs quivered from the sheer force of your orgasm, and you blinked in disbelief.

Over 2 decades of living and it was the first time cumming from a real man, not your fingers nor toys. But the brawny, sex-dripped male slipping your dress off of your spent body.

You almost fell in love.

Pushing him down the driver’s seat, you crawled over Toji’s firm thighs, running your finger from his chest to his muscle-packed abdomen, then down to the wristband. You were flickering to take charge, and he sank down to your guidance, rough palms resting on your hips.

Your dress was off, divulging the bare curves of your body, sweat-glazed skin iridescent under the moonbeam and your sex-flushed features were begging for him. You look so, fucking, perfect that he had to bite down the need to ruin you on the spot.

His hips impatiently thrust upwards into your sticky cunt, grinding his pack against you, urgency in his essence demanding your heat. “Don’t keep me waiting now,” he purred, with a silent warning tagging behind his words.

Your fingers tugged the waistband of his pants along with his briefs, a drive in you matching his pacing hastiness. His shaft sprang out of its painful confinement, and your eyes nearly popped out from the sheer look of his cock.

He was oozing with sticky pre-cum from his angry, red tip, throbbing veins ran from the base of his length to the curved head—the size of him bigger than any you’ve seen. The smell of his masculine essence hit your senses and a new pool of arousal began drawing in your tummy, your pussy walls squeezing in empty neediness.

“There’s no backing out now, princess,” Toji’s fingers firmly gripped onto your ass, lifting you over his cock, hovering.

“Who said I’m backing out?” you gulped, before lowering yourself down, his fat cockhead kissing your pussy lips before your hips greedily sank down his length, oblivious to the crackle of tingles it would send to your nerves.

“Careful there,” he teased with a chuckle as you let out an instinctual gasp from the way his girth stretched past your velvety walls, the slick sound of your arousal-dripped cunt, and his heavy shaft bubbled into the air, and scorched your cheeks red.

“M-My gosh…” you cried as your hazy gaze fell to the bulge jutting from the inside of your tummy, your walls taut with his heavy cock buried inside you. “I’m s’full, Toji.”

“Mhm,” he cooed, brushing his hands over the sides of your smooth thighs. “But you gotta start moving, baby.”

Gingerly, you lift your hips up before slowly inching them down his length. Your walls clenched as your sex rubbed friction, and you could feel every pulsing vein of his just as he could feel your fluttering warmth.

“Feel good, princess?” Toji asked breathily, your head faintly nodded, but there was a hint of a dubious glint in your fallen gaze, your knees lifting and sinking your weight.

“I need your help…” your voice cracked in disappointment as you paused, tears of frustration edging by your eyes. You couldn’t seem to grasp a steady pace no matter how long you painfully rode.

“What d’ya say?”

Your orbs looked as though they were melting off of your sweat-glazed skin, blinks of fervourish plea clawing from your drunken gaze into his. “Please, Toji,” your voice hitched, and you’re humping his pelvis. “Please…I want to feel good.”

Aww. How fucking adorable.

You yelped when you felt yourself being raised and slammed down his cock, your folds burning with every stretch of your walls. And it feels so good. “Y-Yes…” your eyes closed shut, fingers scrambling to grip his locks. “T-Toji—mhaa!”

“You’re so fuckin’ cute screaming my name,” the curve of his tip perfectly kissed your g-spot with each piston of his hips, and every time the twitching head of his meat met your gummy part, it sent a flash of electricity up your spine.

“S-Sho good—” you slurred through your words, weighed head lolling idly to every thrust of his fat cock.

“No one can get you dripping off their cock like this, huh?”

“Mmh—yes!” the space between your brows was crumpled into a tensed frown, your hips bouncing up and down his thick girth with his hands guiding your pace. “I love it! I love your cock!”

Toji let out a low groan when you cried, bucking himself deeper into your sloppy mess of a cunt and kissing the surface of your cervix. “Fuck—I love an honest girl.”

Your muscles nearly melted off of your bones as he continued to fucked himself deeper than you’ve ever felt, reaching the parts you didn’t know could be touched and your features dropped with his touches on your deep intimacy. A fierce sear of heat burned through your tingling womb, and it threatened to consume your body whole. “M’ cummin’! Toji—!”

“I know, I know, let it out f’me. Come on,” he grunted, keeping his grip firm on your arms as he fucked himself hard and deep into you. He could feel your squelching cunny clench, so tight as for the purpose of milking him on the spot. “Keep bouncin’ on my cock, yeah?”

“Nngh—No more!” you squealed. “N-No—” his thumb drew between your shaking thighs and greedily swiped over your blushing clit. Your fingernails sank into your palms as you gripped for dear sanity, his cock continuously violating your fluttering spots until they grew sore.

“I can make you feel better, princess,” he mumbled tinglingly against your neck, sinking his teeth down your flesh to hold back a shaky moan. His pleasure was inching to fly to release, and your tight clutch onto his shaft was nothing but a catalytic lure.

“S’ hurts—please!” your babbles were almost indecipherable as he rammed into your sore cunt, his fingers digging into your soft flesh holding onto you tenaciously; pushing you right to the edge of oblivion as he clung onto his nearing release.

“Cum f’me again, baby?”

“M’can’t! Still sensitive—!” you cried before another orgasm shot through your core. You felt as if you were sent up into the ether, stars teeming through your body as the waves of pleasure sent you on a vertigo ride. Your gasps dragged through your lips, your eyelids hung heavily over your bleary eyes, with tears slipping down your hot cheeks.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—M’close too, baby,” Toji swore through his bared teeth, his cock painfully twitching as thick semen surged through his tip—his hips rolled as your cunt squeezed his remaining sanity, popping them like fireworks before they burst into nothingness.

Your essence squirted out of your tensed cunny, shooting with his mixed cum that dripped down his belly. Your breaths shaky and hot with heightened senses, your sticky sex pulsing in overstimulation.

Exhausted, you fell prostrated on top of his hard muscle-built body, head undulating with the ups and downs of his heaving chest. And slowly, your cognisance drifted back into your mind, the aftermath of everything—the alcohol and the sex, pummelled into you like a heavy truck. Unforgivingly so.

“Toji…I really feel like pukin—”

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zhongrin · 7 months ago

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honey, can you… oh shit wait i forgot we’re not dating (yet)

✼ characters ┈ zhongli, al haitham, wriothesley, neuvillette

✼ tags ┈ gn!reader, fluff, non-established relationship, potential secondhand embarrassment, boyfailure neuvillette (/aff)

✼ a/n ┈ zhongrin uploaded 3 weeks in a row?! madness!!! utter madness!!!! /silly i feel like i've been writing too much cutesy/sfw stuff lately.... i want to write 'darker' types of stuff but my brain doesn't seem to want to cooperate ugh pain

ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪᴀʟ ᴍᴇɴᴜ (ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ) ✼ ᴏᴜʀ ꜰᴜʟʟ ᴍᴇɴᴜ (ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ) ✼ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱʜɪᴘ (ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ)

zhongli watches your reaction closely, at first.

when he deduces that you were self-aware of your own oversight and are evidently panicking about it, he gives you a warm chuckle and shakes his head gently, “there is no need to apologize, and please do not feel mortified in any way. it really is fine.”

if you continue to not believe him, the ex-archon will be as patient as ever with his words of reassurances, and he does not mind repeating them until you feel comfortable enough to ask him the real errand that you wished to bestow upon him.

... but not before he gently places a hand to the small of your back to lead you to walk a little closer to him due to the increasing crowd on the streets, his voice a tender caress to your ear, “coming from you, i certainly did not mind the nickname.”

al haitham raises his eyebrows and shuts his book, “what a fascinating blunder. is that how you view our relationship subconsciously? or perhaps it’s an innate desire you’ve chosen to suppress but accidentally slipped out in a moment of unawareness?”

the scholar has the decency to wait for your answer betwixt your embarrassment, but he eventually sighs when you failed to form a coherent answer that satisfied his inquiries.

“you seem to have the impression that i am displeased at your err. i’d like to inform you that your assumption is yet another mistake - which, i would theorize, was made in the rush of the moment as your nervous system kicks into gear, therefore clouding your judgement. i would suggest you take a few moments to reanalyze my stance based on this new information. i’ll wait.”

and with that, he opens his book once more.

.... um.

congratulations, i guess?

wriothesley takes the opportunity and replies with a cheeky, “yes, honey? what can i do for you, sweetheart?”

he relishes in the utter embarrassment that quickly spread across your face that’s akin to water faced with his cryo elemental energy (though secretly he’s also dying inside at the cheesiness of the situation) and throws you a boyish grin before ruffling your hair.

not a man to let an opportunity escape, the duke decides to leverage the moment to take his metaphorical shot and goes immediately for a straight jab, like an experienced boxer that he is, all the while praying to the hydro archon so that this would be yet another match he could flawlessly win, “you know, my schedule’s particularly relaxed today… i wouldn’t mind staying longer if you want to make it a date?”

neuvillette blinks owlishly, his pale cheeks blooming with warmth as the situation starts to sink in. you, the apple of his eye, whom he treasured dearly and had taken great care to court, had just called him with a term of endearment that he had always dreamed of hearing.

wait, was this a dream? his gloved hands quickly found purchase on his blue horns, before he brought his hands in front of his eyes. okay, he had two horns and ten fingers, still. so he must not have daydreamed this. ah- wait, you’re staring at him. oh, now you’re giggling. and now you’re calling him silly. oh, it should be a crime to be so breathtakingー

it’s not until your expression changed into surprise that he realized he had said that thought outloud.

your teasing “if it’s a crime, are you going to put me on trial, monsieur?” elicits a darker blush on his pale cheeks and an awkward cough out of him.

.... this must be how the young ones flirt nowadays.

“perhaps after a proper date? if it’s not impertinent of me, may i be allowed to take you out on dinner tonight?”

✼ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱʜɪᴘ (ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ) ┈

@abyssmal-skies ! @hamdehlesmis ! @sunnshineflxwer ! @queen-belial ! @silentmoths

@dustofthedailylife ! @marina-and-the-memes ! @mixed-kester ! @lordbugs ! @anonymousficreader

@irethepotato ! @sassy-cat-in-town ! @syrenkitsune ! @smokipoki ! @cakeboxie

@crystalflygeo ! @ciexuvia ! @illaasya ! @celestewritestoomuch ! @pams-comfortzone

@spidermanluvr444 ! @ourstrawberryclouds ! @ryuryuryuyurboat ! @hrts4hanniehae ! @fiannee

@frosts-intuition ! @florapocalypses ! @genshin-impacts-me ! @scarasmood ! @hellcatinnc

@beloved-brynn ! @malachitemischief101 ! @average-yandere-enjoyer

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #zhongli x reader #al haitham x reader #wriothesley x reader #neuvillette x reader #zhongli #al haitham #wriothesley #neuvillette #rin writes #honey can you…

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hollyhomburg · 9 months ago

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Before I leave you (Pt.67)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: You and Hobi bury a dead body (That's a lie, Yoongi buries it for you).

Tags: blood, gore, body horror, death, dead bodies, everyone is pretty beat-up in this, brief implied self-harm but it's very quickly squashed- seriously it's nowhere near as bad as past scenes but i do have to tag it, Dissociation, tae is in the freeze part of fight or flight. hurt/comfort, mental breakdowns, flashbacks, discussions of past abusive relationships, everything is very fluffy until it's not,

W/c: 12.5k

A/N: Are you guys ready for Hoseok's secret reveal??? I'm really excited!!! But also terrified because this whole series has lead up to this point!!! A good number of people have already guessed his secret so congrats on getting it early <3

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

Jimin sits on the stairs going down to the basement. His arm in a sling and bandaged up to the elbow. It aches with every small movement he makes as he peals a tangerine. He hasn't had any narcotics in a few hours and they're starting to wear off.

Jimin needs all of his brain power for this; For covering up the murder.

The fewer things running through his system the less sluggish and fuzzy his thoughts are. Jimin picks his poisons and fewer things make him less coherent than the panic and pain and near constant avalanche of thoughts. Tae, Tae's hurt, Tae's-

Tae's fine, Tae's upstairs with Y/n. he has to remind himself of these facts every few breaths. Tae's going to be okay because you wouldn't let anything happen to her.

There is evidence of that virtually everywhere; In the lines across your hands that Yoongi had dabbed at with a cool cloth, the swollen side of your jaw that he'd cradled. The blood drenching the opposite side of your face that he'd tenderly washed away. Not to mention the blood on the kitchen table, the floor, the ceiling. The blood splattered across your nest-

You don't fuck with an omega's nest; you don't fuck with their packmates.

Jimin quiets his brain with a steady breath as he looks down at Yoongi, Jin, and the body between the three of them wrapped in plastic.

He manages to peel the tangerine in his hand despite how uncooperative his left hand is. Numb at the fingertips just like it’s been since the surgery.

Namjoon had stroked his fingers and tested their give every chance he got, holding onto them and prodding while they waited in the hospital room and then again when Jimin got discharged. He said that they’d probably get better. Probably.

Tae's going to be fine because Namjoon is there too- had checked out her head with that soft alpha grumble croon of his. The most soothing sound in the world, and yet incapable of soothing this.

But Jimin knows nothing’s for certain, he might never get the feeling in his hand back. (This is Jimin's penance; The reminder of these tangled few weeks and how things went will be ever present. The reminder will be the first press of every touch with his non-dominant hand. He will never regain full feeling to the tips of his fingers. Never).

There are a few of noodle paw prints in the dust here, Jimin's ass is no doubt covered in it too from resting on the rickety stairs that lead into the half-finished basement. Little paw print marks that would make you coo and take pictures if you were down here.

But you’re not, you’re upstairs getting the evidence washed off of you.

No one's in that kind of mood right now anyway. No one’s been in that kind of mood for a few hours (or a few days, if he’s being honest, from Jungkook’s seizure, to getting shot, and then coming home to a dead body in their living room).

It’s been 4 hours since you killed someone in the kitchen. 3 hours since Jimin was discharged prematurely from the hospital and the rest of the pack was summoned home via a disturbingly calm call from Jin.

It’s been a tangle of moments even for the people not on hard drugs. Jimin feels like he's doing pretty good at answering the pack’s questions given the circumstances. You'd never know that, given Yoongi's eye roll and Jin's heavy sigh.

"Minnie- we're not asking you how you would have killed him just how you'd cover it up."

They used an old shower liner to wrap the body before they carried it downstairs. It makes a squeaky noise against Jin's rubber gloves (The pink elbow-high ones that he uses to do the dishes) as he pulls back the plastic sheet to reveal what's left of the assassin's head and face.

“I already told you, I don’t know his face- not even a little.” I’d have a pretty hard time identifying his face with the state she left it in regardless Is what he doesn't say.

Jimin tucks his chin, unsettled to look at the man's half-blown apart face for long. "I think he might be the spider but I don’t know. I never met him, only heard his name in passing.”

A small tattoo on the man's wrist reveals as much. A small spider tattoo that someone going to have to cut out and bury separately. Someone's going to have to get all of his teeth too- no identifying marks. None.

He’s a little too impressed with the state you’d left him in when he thinks about it. But once he’d seen your face and Hobi’s neck, not an inch of Jimin had felt the kill wasn’t justified. The whole pack feels that way, he knows they must even though they don't say it. Everyone's a little bit in shock right now.

Even Namjoon hadn’t even given the body a second glance when the pack had tumbled into the house. The pack alpha had simply alternated his fussing from you to Hobi to tae and then Jin. Torn between who needed him first. It was the first words Jimin had heard you speak. Your wet gasp, blood that wasn't yours flashing on your teeth. "Joonie- Hobi needs you."

Namjoon had calmed only once he realized that most of the blood on the three of you was the man’s. Yoongi had a similar reaction and so had Jimin, clutching at Tae. Angry at his arm for its uncooperativeness. About ready to tug off his sling and his bandages and stitches if it meant holding tae easier. He'd even tried it, only to be on the receiving end of a disapproving pack alpha growel too.

“Jimin you can’t; your stitches.”

“Fuck my stitches hyung.”

Numb fingers meet numb faces.

He's a bit ashamed of it, but when he first looked up from Tae to you- where you sat crumpled in Yoongi's hold. Your mate laying down a volley of sweet nothings to you to get you to stop shaking. There was only one sentence running through his head.

That’s my girl.

He'd reached over and squeezed your hand, blood and all. That blood has dried now. Soaked into the lines of his palm. Coloring his fate and love lines all rusty while he eats the tangerine. He should probably wash his hands. All of them probably need too.

Jungkook had been the only one willing to speak, closing the door softly behind him, locking it and treading softly closer. Careful to sidestep both the pools of blood and the piece of a skull sitting next to the couch. He looked down at the 7 of you with a surprisingly calm expression on his face.

"Can't we have one normal fucking day?"

Jungkook was the one who’d gone to the kitchen and gotten one of the hand towels to clean your face. His lips tightened to a line when he wiped away the blood and started to see the bruising, the cut across your temple dripping fresh. Lower lip wobbling ever so slightly.

“Kookie-”

Jungkook had turned to Jin and Namjoon, “I don’t want to deal with the body hyung." His hands were already under your arms, lifting you up, helpless. "Help me get them upstairs. We need to-” he’d let out a frustrated noise. Instincts coming to the full front- instincts he rarely feels.

Who knew blood would incur Jungkook's grooming instincts?

The last time Jimin saw Jungkook; He was helping Namjoon and Yoongi herd the three of you upstairs for a much-needed shower. Hobi hadn't been able to do it under his own power. Namjoon had to carry him.

Hobi; who's choked on every word he's tried to speak. Whose eyes are still red from all the burst blood vessels. Who easily got the closest to dying out of the four of you.

Everyone shakes when they touch Hobi and everyone touches him softly. Namjoon just about snaps his teeth at anyone who tries to get close. His hands turning red from the cold of an ice pack wrapped gently around the alpha's throat.

Jimin knows Jungkook's a lot more unnerved than he lets on, shuffling from foot to foot as he bound Tae up with a towel, taking her delicately from Jimin's arms. Carrying her in the same way Namjoon carried Hobi.

Yoongi was all soft helping you upstairs. Speaking in that quiet voice that he saves for Sunday mornings and stolen moments of quiet. Every moment, all of this is stolen.

And now- the beta is down here, leaning over the body and looking at it like it will tell him something that you won't. After your initial demand that Namjoon he tend to Hobi; you haven't spoken a word. Neither has Tae. Jin's done all of the talking.

There isn’t much to say.

Jimin feels the numbness in his hands and looks at Jin. He hasn't apologized for the bullet yet. But the more time that passes the less Jimin wants an apology. Mating marks come in many forms. Jimin has a scar on his body from one of his omega's- so really? What does he have to be upset about?

The whole house needs to be deep cleaned, and then deep cleaned again. There's blood everywhere; on the couch, the ceiling, the curtains. It's a lot to clean. It's going to be a lot to hide.

That's the only reason why Jimin's not upstairs helping you and Tae clean up right now; the body is unfortunately the biggest threat to the pack's safety at the moment.

There’s a bloodstain on the stairs too, a droplet next to where Jimin sits. he makes a mental note of it but doesn't move to wipe it up. He puts a tangerine slice on his tongue and chews before he answers Yoongi’s next question.

“I don’t know how to dispose of a body, I never dealt with this part. My only job was to kill, not take care of them after. I know there’s a way that you can do it with soap.”

Jin snorts, “You only know that from breaking bad-“

Jimin’s a little miffed, “We already have a plastic tub upstairs-”

“Lye,” Yoongi corrects, looking down at the body before he stoops to retape the plastic over the man's face. It was a bitch to wrap him up, the body stiff and heavy from rigor Mortis. The blood beneath it bubbles and darkens, coagulating. Yoongi's long hair falls over his face and he tucks it behind his ear.

“We could use the soap, but it might take a few days.” Jin clarifies.

“Do you think we can wait that long?”

“Absolutely not,” Jin’s got a similar ice pack to his wrists, the skin there bruised and red and swelling where he fought to get free from the handcuffs, where he eventually ripped down the banisters and broke through them with brute strength and panic.

You’d found the keys on the man’s body soon after and released him from the handcuffs, they're wrapped up in the plastic along with the frying pan, the gun that killed him, and a few other items from the living room that were just too bloodstained, every big piece of evidence will lie right beside him where he rests.

Jimin eats another slice of the tangerine, and Jin shrivels his nose at it. “Isn’t that a little gross?”

Yoongi mirrors his disgust. “Yeah Minnie, weren’t those covered in blood?”

But Jimin just shrugs, “I washed it and peeled it hyung” And keeps eating. After a few days of hospital food, the tangerines taste divine.

Yoongi stands from where he’s kneeling on his knees with a faint crack. “One part kitty litter, two parts concrete should keep out the smell,” Jin says, eyeing the 6 by-six-foot hole in the basement's foundation, already there from the plumbing that needed replacing.

Most of Yoongi's tools are down here too. His scrap pile of wood and the dozen bags of concrete. His hack saw and his circular saw that none of them are looking at. Yoongi had only just fit in the plumbing a few weeks ago. He'd been about to re-pour the foundation anyway.

“I’d rather not have a body buried in our house.”

Yoongi touches Jin’s wrist, so feather-light, removing the ice pack to check the swelling to see if it’s gone down. Jin's left hand is just as useless as Jimin's, the knuckles bruised and ballooned.

“It’s just for a few weeks, we can deal with this once it’s all calmed down, but we absolutely can’t go try and bury it. Who knows what the neighbors heard?”

They're all silent at that, silent at the idea that these few hours might be the last few that the pack spends free.

But over the next few hours, there are no blue and red flashing lights outside or concerned neighbors that come knocking. Your one saving grace is that this all happened during the middle of the day and all of your nearest neighbors have nine to five's. Is it so simple to hope that everyone was just at work? That no one heard the gunshots over the nearby roar of the passing train?

(Maybe they're just too used to the pack next door; the one that has the noisy ruts and noisy noisy packmates. The one whose alphas have a habit of opening the windows in the back room and let the sound of their roughhousing and video games flood the street. The ones who have extra loud movie nights. They're just a bunch of kids, how harmful could they really be? At least the pack alpha and omega look respectable.)

It's a good thing that no one comes; because Namjoon has more important problems, more important things to handle beyond the body in the basement or the police at the door.

Namjoon’s hands cradle Hobi’s neck. He wheeze as he tries to speak, his mouth falling open. He's mostly clean, but a rusty trickle of water from his hair trails down his shoulders.

Jungkook tugged him into the shower first and gave him a rough clean before handing him back to Namjoon. They sit on a towel together on the edge of the nest. they only moved him in here to give him some privacy- to distract him because Hobi kept reaching for you. you'd kept reaching back, tae was already in the shower under the stream.

"Pup- your hands- you're going to hurt yourself."

The Nestroom is dark and quiet. Every single blind in the house is draw. Only the christmas lights illuminate Hobi's injuries. Namjoon will tend to Tae and then you after he's checked out Hobi's injuries. will send him downstairs with Jin for some cold water to soothe his throat once he's done. once he's been cleaned again probably.

Hobi was covered with the most blood, having been just under the man when Tae had blown his throat apart while you- Namjoon doesn't want to think of it, doesn't want to see it.

(Namjoon thinks of every moment, sees them behind every blink. Blink and he sees you sitting in his lap over breakfast squirming happily. Blink and you're kneeling in a bloody puddle looking up at him.

Blink and you're curled up in the nest wearing the first pajama pants he'd given you. Blink and he's watching Jungkook dab at your bloody cheek, blink and you're turning into his hand to nuzzle as he wakes you for sunday morning breakfast. Blink and there’s sunlight spilling across your face and blood slipping down your chin. Namjoon's smallest and most sensitive pup not so innocent anymore.)

Namjoon touches Hobi's throat with no small amount of reverence. it cools the anger in his throat. Namjoon's anger has no good place to go.

When Hobi closes his eyes, he sees it too; the explosion of the bullet and the splat of blood pouring down his face. The shower earlier felt so similar- he almost couldn't handle it. He had to concentrate on Jungkook's voice narrating everything.

"Here Hobi, I'm gonna use some soap now. I like Tae's body wash. You know she always just picks whatever bottles are pinkest because she wants all her toiletries to match. It smells good, doesn't it? Can you take a deep breath for me? Through your nose?"

Endless meaningless Jibber jabber to distract all of them.

Now he shivers and shakes in Namjoon's hold. One part terror and one part near frostbite. Namjoon turns the heat up but Hobi still shakes as Namjoon checks his throat. "Open for me baby- that's a good boy."

He flashes a light down there, listening with his stethoscope. The cold metal end of it presses against his collarbones and the bruises too. Finger-shaped that lace over his jugular like a collar. Over Hobi's heart. Every thump ba-thump ba-thump music to Namjoon's ears.

Namjoon’s growl is soothing as he scoots closer to gather the injured alpha close to his chest. Shushing Hobi as he tries to speak for the dozenth time in the last hour. “Don’t try it, careful- I don’t think he did any lasting damage but-”

Namjoon breaks and his forehead drops to Hoseok’s shoulder, fingers rub out soothing circles on Hobi's wrist even as he starts to cry. Namjoon already stitched up the deep puncture wound there. He had to hold his wrist still as he dabbed the stingy antiseptic, the impulse to pull it away too great. The wound wasn't from a bullet but from the piece of the door that embedded itself in Hobi’s wrist. Blown apart the way he could have been.

Namjoon was so close to losing everything, to losing them.

The bruises, Hobi’s eyes, and his little raspy breaths. Everything both punishment and payment for every violent thing Namjoon wants to do. He feels powerless to do more than hold the smaller alpha right now. The strength in his arms doing little to protect Hobi from the hurts he's already nursing. Hoseok leans his head on Namjoon's shoulder and Just lets the alpha hold him.

If he’d come home to the four of you dead what would he have done? more accurately- What wouldn’t he have done?

Namjoon imagines it- the same way he's imagined it thousands of times. Tae's blood on her lips as pretty as any lip stain. Jin on the floor, his little big love wrapped up in permanent stillness like a mating shroud. Your body turned small and quiet the way you'd been when he'd met you- only so much worse. Hobi with his heart slow and absent of his near-constant music. Bodies stiff as statues, turned alters meant to worship both grief and love.

He’d probably have demanded Jimin and Yoongi tell him everything they knew. And then he’d have gone hunting.

Namjoon lets out a shaky breath and pulls away from Hoseok only to continue dabbing at his wounds. The violence of his alpha's instincts calmed by the sanctity of this- of making it better. of being gentle even when namjoon wants to be anything but.

Hoseok’s mute. Throat too swollen to make more than a soft hissing sound on command. Vocal cords not damaged just swollen. Leaving his brain to hurdle through the last few hours. Eyes closed but his mind wide open.

He sees it all behind his eyes; your hand descending with the frying pan, the explosion of wood near his head. The splat of hot blood against the wood floor. Gasping and getting blood in his mouth accidentally. Choking in it- drowning a little. Everything. The sting of smoke on his eyes. Your words ring in his ears like the final notes of a symphony.

“You can take me. I’ll go with you. Willingly. That’s what she wants isn’t it?”

Hoseok’s brain teases through what you might have meant with that. The unnamed she that you mention. Who, why, and what aren’t you telling them? Is it the woman that Yoongi talked to you about before?

He's unable to say anything to Namjoon even as the alpha softy cradles his damaged throat. Unable to even whisper it out through the swelling that threatens to cut off Hobi's airway. It feels like he's breathing through a straw. Namjoon says he's not going to choke, that it only feels that way. The panic is hard to let go of.

But who do you have to go back to there? You've never talked about the family like you wanted them, like they were your pack. Who have you run from? What monsters are here to haunt you? Who is after you? Or is it something darker- more sinister?

Maybe Hoseok's heart has never truly healed from Yoongi leaving them. Maybe a wounded heart remembers. Yoongi always had them to go back to that Hoseok had never questioned. But he's never wondered about you or stopped to consider that maybe, Yoongi's not the only one who left something.

The family doesn't exactly seem like something you can walk away from unscathed. Yoongi managed it, but Jimin didn't.

Hoseok should warn Namjoon, should tell someone but- it's impossible. His airway protesting with an agonizing twinge with every attempt he makes at speaking. He wonders if this is what being nonverbal felt like for you.

The pain pulses dully without adrenaline to dilute it as Namjoon so lovingly examines the marks, again and again. But he shouldn't be spending so much time. You and Tae are bruised and battered too- even if Hoseok’s are by far the worst; you need tending to.

Jin’s hands. Your face. Tae’s head. Hoseok’s throat. Each of you has lost the thing most necessary to your survival.

Hoseok thinks of the body, not the one that sits downstairs, but the one that you found months ago in the ocean. Maybe this wasn’t a coincidence. Maybe none of this was. How far back do the coincidences go? Between Jin and Yoongi who wouldn't have a relationship to stand on without Yoongi's family- how many other things in the pack are because of this?

Hoseok struggles to speak, to talk to Namjoon about what you'd almost done, what you'd almost bartered- but nothing but air comes out, and the pack alpha shushes him. His hands grip Namjoon's shoulders hard.

Namjoon wishes he had more than just numbing cream and sutures for Hobi’s hurts. Jimin’s already offered up some of his opioids for Hobi to sleep and as much as Namjoon hates the idea of anyone swapping medication- Hobi might actually need them.

Jimin’s doctor had been a little bit liberal with them, sure that his 6 on the pain scale had to be at least a 9. He could spare one or two. The truth is that nothing hurts more than this- seeing the people that you love in pain. Jimin and Namjoon save their 10s for days like this.

With the blood cooling, Namjoon’s anger has nowhere to go. The body in the basement has already gone cold.

In the quiet of the house they can audibly hear Seokjin and Yoongi start mixing the concrete. The dull scrape of a shovel against a bucket and the sound of a faucet dripping.

Namjoon wipes at Hobi’s throat, and Hoseok tries again- futile in his efforts to speak. Namjoon shushes him.

In the basement it goes; drip, scrape, drip.

~-~

Jungkook holds Tae up underneath the warm spray of water. The glass is foggy in places and clear and others, occasional spots of red water joining the constellation of them. She rests against Jungkook's chest, her body is prone and almost lifeless. Eyes vacant and glassy.

So shaky and tired as her body rockets down from its adrenaline high. A drop so abrupt that she could hardly hold herself up. A drop so terrifying that Jungkook must do it for her.

He doesn't mind, none of him minds as he cradles the back of her head oh so gently. Tae flinches, whether from pain or the sudden movement. Jungkook meets Jimin's eyes through the foggy glass and then yours. Biting his lower lip before Jimin nods and tells him to keep going.

Evidence is evidence. Washing off can’t wait.

Jimin has joined you upstairs with the body already packed away and on its way to being buried under the foundation of the house. Jimin watches on from outside the shower as he instructs Jungkook in a quiet voice on how to clean Tae of evidence properly. He's been quiet since then. Staring at them while Tae stares blankly back.

You watch them from where you sit. Mostly you just watch Tae. When Namjoon's body doesn’t block your view. He stitches the gash on your forehead, hands pulling the sutures closed in a gentle and practiced way. The pass of the needle through your skin a distant sensation.

The wounds on your hands are in that awkward place of not being deep enough for stitches but still a little too deep to not need something. After a brief debate, Namjoon sealed them with a bit of non-surgical glue that stung terribly and then regular gauze over the top.

Your hands are swelling and clotting. Scabbing although trying to touch anything is too painful. Closing your fingers at all hurts. Namjoon holds you so lightly it hardly feels like he's holding you at all.

Namjoon apologizes after every wince.

The second he’s done he tosses his suture kit into the bathroom sink with a clang the second he’s done. Namjoon gets on his knees before you. The plastic that covers the whole bathroom crackling as he does.

Jimin had the great idea to cover the bathroom with sheets of plastic to cut down on the cleanup. Hoseok's bloody footprints join Tae's trailing from the doorway to the shower. Join the trail that you left. Parts of you are still dripping.

"It's going to scar," Namjoon says, a little sadly. Thumb skimming over the mark on your forehead.

You swallow hard. You still taste blood. You want to brush your teeth; you want to shut the lights off and go to sleep. You want Noodle and you want Yoongi you want everything from the past few hours- the past few years to be gone and over with. You want-

You want to snap at him and tell him that it doesn't matter that it will scar. That you're covered with scars already and you don't care but-

Namjoon kisses your forehead. A lingering brush. The one spot that's not bloody.

You look over at Tae and her eyes flicker blankly to you. Jungkook keeps bringing the boar bristle brush up and down her back in soothing little circles.

When you turn back to Namjoon he's pursing his lips and blinking away tears as he looks down at your hands. You resist the urge to say you’re sorry. You’re not sure what for. The terrible feral hunger in you gone as quick as it's come.

Namjoon’s fingers wrap around the hollow of your knees, and you meet his eyes, even though you don’t want to. It feels too much like a confession already.

“I’m going to say this now, before you get any ideas; This is not your fault and I am not mad at you and Tae for doing what you did-”

“Namjoon-”

He continues on, words rushing out. “I’m proud of you pup, so proud. I’m sorry that I wasn’t here. I promise I won’t disappoint you again as pack alpha-” You cover his mouth with your hand, gauze and all.

The bit of gauze over your palm is already turning bloody. It's hard to tell if it's your blood or if it's his. You’re the last one to shower. The last one to get clean. Namjoon shouldn’t be touching you at all.

And yet he does, yet he cradles your face, brushes the tears from your cheeks, gets blood on his hands. Evidence is evidence, but love has a steeper sort of price if you don't express it when you can.

When you take your hand away, Namjoon doesn’t try to speak again. someone says something that you don't hear, that you can't hear.

Namjoon stands and when you look up, Jungkook has the shower door open for you.

Because the bandages and the glue on your hands can’t get wet Namjoon binds your hands with Ziplock bags and duct tape. The plastic rustles, and you follow Hobi's bloody footprints into Jungkook’s arms. Namjoon closes the door behind you.

Every bit of plastic is going to get melted down later, until all the blood and terror evaporates through something as simple and trivial as fire. Fire will cleanse it of all evidence, as sure as the burning water you step under.

You're not quite sure what you're going to do about the bullet holes in the walls or the blown-apart door to the upstairs bedroom, but Yoongi’s always had a handle on the home improvement stuff.

Jungkook helps you disrobe off your bloodied clothing. Lifting your shirt over your head and stooping, telling you to hold onto his shoulders so that he can take off your sweatpants. You're pretty sure they're Yoongi's but there's no time to get sentimental as he puts them inside a garbage bag along with Tae's and Hobi's clothes.

Everything on your person is evidence. When you look back Namjoon's gone, summoned by Jin's distant call from downstairs. It's just Jimin outside of the shower. watching you, but mostly watching Tae.

You’d be more self-conscious of your nude body if your brain wasn’t still racing. It’s hard to do much with the bags on your hands. But Jungkook squirts out a healthy dollop of your favorite shampoo and gets to work once the conditioner is in Tae’s hair. She sits like a discarded ball-jointed doll on the built-in bench. Her long hair hair stuck like a sheet over her eyes.

Nothing is as important as making sure you’re not found out. And the frothy shampoo turns rusty around Jungkook's fingers. You have to have a lot of blood on your face. All the water that rolls off of you goes pink.

Jungkook is gentle even by your hairline scratching against your scalp with his fingers. The skin there is tender. Namjoon taped a bit of gauze over the sutures too. You don't remember when he did that.

You make a noise. “Too rough?” his voice has something unreadable in it, something soft and concerned.

You don't respond because Yoongi makes his reappearance at the doorway. The black shirt he wears is dusty at the front from the concrete. His eyes single focused on you the second he enters the room. You stare at him the way that Tae stares at Jimin. Jungkook just huffs and pulls you a little more snugly against his chest.

Tae stands in the corner of the shower, still staring at Minnie. Minnie who stares back, practically not blinking. Both of their anguish are hidden behind glass. Like fish in tanks that could never get out. Not really.

Part of Tae gets washed away down the drain. Swirling and gurgling down and down with no one to notice.

Tae stares off blankly into space. Sometimes Jimin talks to her and sometimes he hums through the glass, he'd be in there too if his bandages couldn't get wet either. If Namjoon hadn’t yanked him back from the doorway and told him that he couldn't.

Jungkook takes the boar bristle brush to your body too. Everything has to be scrubbed multiple times until your skin feels nearly raw from it. Tae’s fingernails, her arms, your neck, the side of your face, the hollow at the inside of your arms. Your knees. Everywhere.

He apologizes when he goes over bruises, wincing, clutching you a little tighter, a little closer to make up for the pain. But Jungkook is meticulous as he cleans of evidence until you feel groomed clean. Until there’s no more blood swirling down the drain just clear water, and the light outside has turned pearly and blue in the twilight.

Tae's still silent. She's been quiet beyond the occasional heartbreaking whimper since you both killed that man. Eventually, You push at Jungkook's hands with a pointed look in her direction where she's slumped and he goes with a soft nod. Two omega's taking care of their alphas.

Jungkook’s delicate with Tae’s head, gentle in the way he cradles the bruising, half hidden by her hair. Washing out the conditioner with a quiet hum. Namjoon had diagnosed her with a concussion pretty quickly, it's not a crack in her skull plate but she's not going to go putting her hair up in a bun any time soon.

Jungkook alternates from you to Tae. One moment you're standing, the next Jungkook is taking you up gently from the floor and Yoongi is at the glass, hand on the door- looking at you anxiously. Letting out a volley of cursing. You can't remember the last time you heard him use language like that.

"Hyung she's fine- she's just slippery, I've got her."

Their voices are so soft and grave and so quiet. Or is it just that you can’t hear it? Why are their voices so far away and muffled? Sometimes Yoongi is here and sometimes he isn't. Sometimes Jungkook is holding you, talking to Namjoon about something, and other times he and Yoongi are talking. Keeping their voices low. Your ears ring. It's so loud it deafening.

“Do you need me to take over?” Yoongi asks Jungkook. Jungkook has blood on his feet, from you or Tae you’re not sure, it soaks the hair there. Jungkook’s got hairy fucking feet for an omega- you’re not sure why you’re concentrating on it. Why you’re noticing all these things now. Cataloging little things about them like you might never get the chance to notice them again.

Your heart beats quick, fear still consuming you even though the danger has passed. You look down at the tiled floor and the room spins.

You don’t feel a thing when you close your eyes. You don’t feel anything when you think of the man that you just killed. You don’t feel anything but roaring, like the crashing of the ocean or the sound when you lift your ear to a shell. The hearing in your left ear where the gun went off feels…off, muffled. You put your hand up to toy with it and freeze when you realize it isn't right.

"Guys" You paw at your ear. But they don't seem to hear you.

"No, I've got them.”

“We need to clean up the downstairs. Kookie, where do you keep the oxyclean?”

"Guys"

They still don't hear you. Maybe you're not making a sound at all just mouthing the words. Your movement gets Tae's attention and her eyes focus for the first time in hours. Slumped on the bench, her hand grips the tiled edge hard as she tries to stand but can't. Jungkook hands Yoongi something through the steam, the black trash bag full of bloody clothes.

The notice Tae trying to get to you first. she hits the floor with a small thud and tugs her way over to you. You make a noise in your throat- a distressed chirp that makes the alphas flinch. Tae cups your cheek as you dig your finger in, slippery from the plastic- and pull something small and fleshy out of your ear.

It's soft and squishy. A curved piece of pink and white brain matter. A little bloody but bleached from the water.

You try to stand to your feet but teeter, shaking, staring down at the chunk of person that you just got out of you, that was just in you.

For a second, no one says anything, but then-

“That’s so fucking gnarly.” Your head jerks up in Jungkook’s direction.

"I think I'm going to be sick," Tae actually does look a little green, but it's good to hear her voice at the very least. She hauls herself over to the drain and starts to dry heave.

"Oh tae don't-" the sound of vomit hitting the floor joins the sound of the shower. You don't look at her. just at the lump of person in your hand.

"Someone please take it from me," Jimin is already there opening the glass door and holding out a cloth for you to place it in.

Yoongi presses his hands to the glass as he watches you struggle to grab the brush that Jungkook was using on you from the floor after finally getting your feet under you. Jungkook is torn, his hand on Tae's shoulder as she wretches turning from her to you like he doesn't know what to do or who to help first.

You don't care about the state of your hands you just need to get clean. You Ignore the twinge of pain in your hands as you try and get the bottle of body wash open. Ripping off the plastic bags that cover your hands when you can't unclick the cap immediately. frustrated and panicking. You ignore Jimin calling your name. The gauze falls to the floor with a wet thwack and you take the boar bristle brush to your hands. Cuts and all.

Big hands stop you. Hands that dwarf yours. Hands that you'd know blind.

Yoongi's standing under the spray fully clothed, the water pinning down his hair and quickly soaking him. His hands tangling with yours, taking the brush from you. Wordless as he grabs your wrists and jerks you forward hard.

He holds on until you stop shaking. resting against his chest. guiding your face to his scent gland. "Take a deep breath for me now sweetheart- there you go- just like that."

Jungkook doesn't say anything and neither does Jimin, not as Yoongi starts to wash you again. Jungkook just stoops to lift Tae and place her back on the bench. She goes easy, limp, and doll-like. But she's almost done- she's almost clean. Tae pushes at Jungkook’s shoulders.

"I’m fine. I need to wait for the nausea to pass before I try getting out of here.”

With you, it's going to take a little longer.

Jungkook has already shampooed your hair, but he does it again. The telltale signs of rusty red in the peach-scented shampoo. Bubbling orange-pink. Yoongi does it slower, gentler- it feels more normal. Like the slow loving you're used to.

“Do you ever feel like-” your voice is a little crackly from all the screaming you did earlier. You hate how the terror makes you not remember all the details. Did you make any sound while you killed him? Did you say anything through the rage?

The others are looking at you but you have eyes for just Jimin. his hand tightens to fists, knuckles pressed against the glass. eyes darkening ever so slightly. “Do you ever not feel guilty? About killing people Minnie?”

You are nude, as bare as you’ve ever been before him, it's hard to be self-conscious about it. Maybe this would be a little sexier- showering with Tae and Jungkook and Yoongi with an audience if you weren't literally trying to cover up a very violent murder.

You remember the words Jimin had said to you weeks ago now. “Would you kill for me?” “I’d do worse” you wonder if this qualifies as worse. You can’t imagine what would be much worse than this.

Jungkook's hands are rough as they massage a bit of soap down your back but instead of being comforting, it feels like you’re going to vibrate out of your skin.

Jimin hums. Eyeing Tae still sprawled on the built-in bench. Jimin gathers his thoughts before he speaks. “In my contract, at the beginning-” He starts but cuts off as you start to slip. Jungkook's hands find you, helping Yoongi hold you up more properly. Your mate doesn't let Jungkook take you entirely just moves a bit to the side to give him space. Any other day you'd love to be in the middle of a yoonkook sandwich but-

“Your contract?” he nods, blond hair bobbing. Yoongi meticulously removes the dried blood from under your fingernails, careful to hold your glue sutures out of the direct spray.

“I specified that I’d only ever kill bad people. of course I got a little lazier after I got used to it." He shoots an anxious glance in Tae's direction, but she's still just sitting. "But at the beginning, I’d go back and look through their files to try to find out what they’d done to warrant a hit getting taken out on them. I couldn’t always find a reason but most of the time I did."

You can see it in his face, that Jimin doesn't want to say that they deserved it. Because if they deserved a violent ending then you could say the same about the 8 of you. Jungkook's hands get a little close to the nape of your neck and you turn to him and snap.

"Don't scruff me."

"Sorry." You need it. Is what he doesn't say.

“Most of the time it was worth it?” You cling to his words. With Geumjae you’d never had to guess if he deserved it or not but this-

Jimin’s eyebrows are brought into a hard line, “Karma is a fickle thing. Sometimes it never comes but-” his eyes are downcast, "Sometimes it's a good thing, being the karma."

You sit quietly, digesting his words. Your lower lip trembles, and you don’t know if you feel terrible or better when the tears just won’t come. Yoongi delicately cradles your body, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind and pulling you back against his chest.

“Yoongi.”

“Let me hold you for a minute.” You do, body sagging under the weight of your exhaustion.

Tae teeters in Jungkook’s hold, but she pushes against his hands weakly when he tries to make her stand again. Her voice sounds warbly and fragile when she shakes her head. “I’m still dizzy.”

He tries to guide her gently back to the bench, but she doesn't make it that far. Pushing away his hands when she descends to the marble floor. Closer to the wall, Closer to Minnie who mirrors her, falling to the floor too. Getting as closer to her as he can without being in the shower.

Jimin lets out a sad and bitter-sounding laugh and Tae smiles in reply while Jungkook and Yoongi share an anxious glance over your head.

He's still grinning, words twisting, eyes shining with sorrow and fondness. “You couldn’t wait 24 hours until you had to make it even, didn’t you?”

Tae closes her eyes as her smile twists and she starts to cry “Where you go, I go. We’re the same now Minnie.” Jimin doesn't mean to ask what she means. He knows.

If you're a killer I'm a killer. If you're damned, I'm damned. Even though neither of them believes in God or heaven or damnation. Not really. Not anymore. It's very half-hearted.

(I don't know if it's worth wondering if the people you love are bad people, I think when worse comes to worse, you just put the heaviness down and keep on loving them anyway).

Jimin’s eyes are soft on her, the way that they only ever are with Tae. He places his hand on the glass fogging around his fingertips. She doesn’t match his hands, just leans her cheek against it. Love is only a thin layer of glass away.

You know it hurts her a little bit, must make the dysphoria a little harder to breathe through, to let Jimin and Jungkook see her like this; just the long hair and nothing delicate to cloth her soul in. A soul that now you’ve irreparably tarnished.

A soul that is damaged beyond repair now thanks to you.

It is your fault. All of this is because of you. all of this pain and anguish and damage is because of the choices you've made. the stupid idiotic childish choices. If you'd never needed it- if you'd just been strong enough- Tae could have been whole. Tae could have been unharmed. Hobi and Jin too- if you’d just-

Back at the hospital, Tae had so many questions about Jimin’s job, so many questions about when and where, and why. But she finds her head empty of them in the aftermath. She has no desire to learn anything else about Jimin’s job. Not now that she knows what killing feels like.

Tae is never going to be able to look at red nail polish the same way again.

Jungkook reaches over and turns off the water.

~-~

Eventually, you finish washing. Wrapped up in fluffy white towels that will have to be burned too. The house smells like bleach and gunpowder. It covers everything.

Even the noodle is looking a little more grubby than usual when he zips by, meowing for someone to give him attention. You hear the saw going and you know that Yoongi is cutting the bullet holes out of the walls while the others clean up the blood.

Your skin feels pink and sensitive were the towel brushes as you go looking for pajamas, you'll get some for the others too. Later, Jin will fuss and ask to put some cream on you. Will massage it in something of an apology and pretend that Yoongi isn't going over the whole house with a blacklight to spot any errant blood splatters.

Later Yoongi will take a wood scraper to the floorboards where the man died, will rip them up, and burn them in the house's ancient fireplace just to be sure that no one finds any evidence.

You'll all pretend that Tae doesn't shake through a panic attack when you have an informal dinner in the nest. jin's rule of "no food in the nest" broken for this. You'll all pretend that Hoseok won't choke choking on all but the smallest sips of water. You'll all pretend. You're good pretenders, good liars too.

Later, Jin will put cream on your skin and dot it all with kisses, the swelling in his hands won't take too long to go down. You'll get the love and You won’t deserve a single second of it.

You don't know how you fooled yourself into thinking you ever deserved it. The last 8 months have been stolen. Not earned.

The one-year anniversary of Geumjae's death comes and passes as you go to the top of the stairs in your towel, Ears straining to hear what's going on downstairs.

There is a lot of talking going on downstairs, between Yoongi, Namjoon, and Jin. About what to do, and how to handle this. Hushed voices kept mostly out of earshot. And other more dangerous questions get asked, with equally as dangerous answers.

One of Jimin's guns sits on the kitchen counter through all of it. No one moves to put it away. They're not sure when they're next going to need it and they'd rather not get caught off guard again.

“I could talk to some people- call them. Some people owe me favors, There has to be some section of the family that doesn’t want her too-“

"Absolutely Not, I am not having you get into some weird ass mafia debt"

"Yeah, jailcell orange is so not your color hyung"

“We stay quiet. For the next 48 hours- it’s likely no one will know what happened. They’re too hurt- we need some time to regroup and think.”

Hobi’s voice is absent from the fray. You hear something quite like he's trying to speak, and someone shushing him softly. Namjoon says that his swelling won’t go down enough to talk until tomorrow. You hear the sound of someone opening the refrigerator to get ice.

The door to the bedroom has been blown apart, and a flurry of bullet holes chewed through the top corner. It sits off its hinges and in two pieces.

You remember watching Yoongi paint the door, sitting at the bottom of the stairs while he worked at the top of it and painted it to match the wallpaper in the staircase, a dark cobalt blue. You remember all of it, every little thing you watched him do to make this house into something worthwhile. To make it into a home and now it's riddled with bullet holes and stained with blood.

It's funny, you hardly remember every little thing he did for you, to make you worthwhile.

You have always been a reminder that you don't make houses out of abandoned buildings, and mates out of monsters that bite.

The water has turned the cuts on your hands white and gummy when you look down at them in the closet room. They’re already oozing, not bleeding, it will be at least a day or two until you can touch anything without discomfort. Namjoon will scold you ever so gently later and re-do your bandages.

The pink curtains are drawn already to keep out any wandering eyes from the outside. This is a dressing room after all. The whole room feels like a blush-toned jewel box and you, the one piece of cheap costume jewelry at the center.

You get up and shut the door before you sit on a small poof- something silky and tufted that Jimin had gotten Tae right after she'd come out.

You sit in your towel and look down at your wounds. Thinking about Tae's concussion. Jin's wrists. Hobi's throat. Both of their blank looks and the violence of death and trying to live. You think it all through, every possible ending to this before you pick up your phone and dial Her number.

Moonbyul picks up on the first ring. It’s like she’s been waiting for your call.

“Did you like your courting present pup?”

Your throat is dry and you don’t know exactly what to say, even less how to say it. She hums at your silence, an alpha's imitation of a purr. Waiting until your quietness builds to a frantic pulse.

In the pack, you've always been the one with the best survival instincts. Geumjae made you this way. Although the pack has spent the last few months trying to heal you; deep down you know you've never been anything more than a scared animal. Fight or Flight. Freeze or fawn.

Bullet to bullet. Tooth to tooth. Heartbeat to heartbeat. This time is different. This time you have something worth protecting.

You stand, no longer able to sit. There is a noise at the door, and you wait with bated breath for someone to come in. They don't come. But you stand and move farther inside. Hoping that the distance will disguise the sound of your whispered conversation.

She continues when it becomes clear you're struggling to speak. “I’ve got another one on the way. Hyejin’s here, wanna say hello? You’re on speaker.”

“Pup,” she giggles, and you feel like you might vomit. It’s a struggle really, not to end the call right there, not to let the fear overtake you. “We haven’t heard back from Spider yet, and I have a feeling someone’s been a little naughty.”

You lift the curtain to look outside, the train chugs past and the cars flit by like the fast small birds searching for seed in the snow. The whole world is grey and flat. The sky is orange from the lights of the city reflecting the clouds. The trees bare of all but a few crumbly leaves. It’s strange how all at once, the train is all you can look at. All you can think about.

You think about hoseok, the night at the train tracks where he stopped you from leaving. When he asked you to stay.

“Tell me what I need to do. Tell me what I need to do to get you to stop this, please.” Your voice sounds off, even for you. Too flat, strange even to your ears.

“I’m afraid we’re too far along for that.”

"Please, please Moonbyul-" You turn, pacing back towards the door. Past Tae’s clothes, past yours, past Jungkook’s, past the alcove where Hobi hangs his sweatshirts for you. You pause there. Looking at them.

“You said- you said when it was over you’d give me anything I wanted. Well I want them alive. Even if-"

Your voice is so shaky, you're careful to make sure you're not overheard. The pack is in the other room, just downstairs. You can hear the distant hum of their sweet voices; the people you love always sound like a melody. Your absence hasn’t been noticed yet.

"Even if I’m not here.”

For once they’re silent on the other end of the line. It’s a full silence, filled with one part lust and one part hunger. Both of them are like Noodle playing with a mouse. Waiting for the right time to drive their teeth in and end this game.

But even mice have teeth. Your hand is holding your phone so hard that the plastic makes your bones ache and your cuts bleed fresh.

“If you don’t let them live, I'll never stop fighting. But if you want me to be willing- If you want me to be your pup the way I think you do."

You can’t even close your hand into a fist with how wrecked your hands are. They hurt with every clumsy movement. you hold the phone. Your every heartbeat lurching with the horror of what you're doing.

I can’t lose them; I can’t be the reason why they die. They'll keep sending people until we're all dead unless I do something.

“All of them, all of them need to be safe, Jimin- you need to let him go of his contract and let him go back to living a normal life and you need to not punish Jin for working for the FBI.” Your words rush over themselves. "Leave my pack alone and I’ll be obedient. I'll be yours. I’ll never try and go back to them again. I won’t ever try and leave. I promise.”

Moonbyul and Hyejin are silent on the other end of the phone. You wait for a few moments. They must be looking at each other, deliberating.

Everything in this room aches. The closet bedroom that Yoongi made he made for you. The wainscotting just so. Everything in this house was crafted with an equal amount of love.

It was never meant to be yours forever, you’ve been keenly aware of this fact since the moment you met Yoongi. Since the moment you met his eyes across the dining room table and the moment his teeth met your skin. Borrowed things don't belong, they never do. Good things do not last. You only get them for as long as you get them and not a moment longer.

You're looking at Hobi's sweatshirts, in the alcove where he stacks them for you to take when Moonbyul and Hyejin respond.

“We'll agree to those terms, but remember their safety depends on your performance."

"You have 24 hours to get to us pup. Make them count.”

The dial tone drones like a funeral drum.

~-~

(Hoseok, a few years prior)

The backroom at the record shop is cramped with all sorts of things from a bygone era;

A mini fridge with a decrepit desktop computer and logbook balanced atop it. Pictures and bulletins glued to the wall from the 1960's. A greasy coffee machine piled high with bags of expired tea. A cramped spot for employees to hang their coats and a yellowing old table with a pair of chairs; both occupied by people also out of place. a beta that has a thing for 1980's rap and an alpha with a broken heart who admittedly loves 2010's pop.

A poster of some glittery showgirl omega from the 20s bats her eyelashes down at Hoseok as he has a mental breakdown. Offering neither comfort nor absolution nor love.

Maybe if he'd been born an omega like that, it would have been easier. Maybe they'd have wanted him then.

Yoongi's hands rub down Hoseok's shoulder, his back, places only lovers have touched. Up and down. An endless circle. An ouroboros of affection nibbling Hoseok's fickle heart. Hoseok aches harder with every passing moment.

Yoongi looks at the clock as Hoseok continues to sob. The shop should be open right now but Yoongi won't let it. It can go out of business for all he cares. As long as no one makes Hoseok get up from this chair before he's ready.

Beta instincts are fickle things, but Yoongi has always had a third sense. Something in him always knows if people are trustworthy and if they need him. Something in their scents or faces or eyes- like small planets reflecting the cosmos back to them. Do planets bear life only when someone is willing to look for them? Do people only deserve help when they're willing to ask for it? or is it like this?

Eventually, Hoseok gets his breath back in his chest and his sobs quiet down. His eyes open bloodshot. All sadness has an expiration date (thankfully). Yoongi's hand slides down his arm and gives his hand a firm squeeze (and stays there).

It's the first time someone's touched Hoseok without wanting something in God knows how long but he's too sad to properly appreciate it or savor it. (Yoongi doesn't want anything from him that Hoseok wouldn't willingly give. Doesn't want anything but his smile. fuck- he's just a co-worker, isn't he?). Who knows when the next touch like this might come? (Yoongi is going to hold his hand tomorrow because Yoongi likes holding people's hands, Jin will give him the tacit permission to do that at least. But all of the pack are keenly aware that Hoseok needs time to heal, no matter how obvious Yoongi's crush and Hoseok's needs).

(Hoseok is definitely not just Yoongi's coe-worker at this point, but saviors come from all sorts of unlikely places)

Eventually Hoseok's sobs quiet and Yoongi sighs, pulling back. He takes one look at hoseok's red nose and pale cheeks and puffs up. "I'm making your hot chocolate and you're going to tell me what's happened."

He gets up like he needs something to do. Like he's tired of taking care of Hoseok. He doesn't take it personally, he's tired of it too.

“My mates they- they kicked me out of our den,” Hoseok confesses. Yoongi's got two mugs in his hands, they thud against the counter when he reaches into one of the cabinets.

It’s warm in here but Hoseok is still thankful for the sweatshirt the beta gave him. Not only for its warmth but for the layer of scent it provides; It’s soaked with the smell of chocolate. So comforting and heavenly that it makes Hoseok a little dizzy when he tucks his nose into it and takes a hefty sniff when Yoongi's got his back turned.

Hoseok was never given the other pack's items, never allowed or encouraged to indulge in their scents. They never asked for his either.

Yoongi hangs both their jackets above the radiator in the back so that they’ll dry faster. He bears an impressive bite mark on his arm, visible because of his short-sleeved shirt. It's bruised just ever so slightly- an alpha bite but not a mating bite because betas don't mate. A mark like that on him is as good a claim as any. Even with the other scents that cling to the sweatshirt.

Hoseok hasn’t known him long, but they’re friends even if they’ve never met up outside of work. You can't not be friends with someone you spend upwards of 30 hours a week with.

Yoongi just hums. "Have you been with them long?"

Hoseok appreciates that Yoongi doesn't use the past tense, his heart too tender around the idea of endings. Some part of him is unconvinced that it really is over. A stubborn heart for a stubborn alpha.

His hair is starting to dry when he nods. "It's been a few years." Hoseok bites his lip, "I could lie and say I didn't see signs but-" his hands end up in his hair, elbows leaning against the creaking yellow table. Tugging a little. "I'm so fucking stupid."

"I don't think you're stupid," Yoongi says, hand on the back of his head. warm rough fingers. Touching him ever so briefly as he passes to put the milk back in the mini-fridge. "It's not stupid to want to find more love where you got it."

But in truth, There's not much more than Yoongi can say. Not much more that he knows to say. He'd never met Hoseok's pack. Whereas Namjoon and Jimin and the pups have a general tendency to linger around Yoongi person at all hours and locations. Stopping by to drop off coffee or just to make funny faces at him through the window when they're on their way to work. Yoongi has never met his co-worker's pack and has never seen much evidence at all on him beyond some vague hints of scents.

That alone is enough of a hint; usually, when people have packmates they're soaked in their scents. Visceral claims to keep any wandering eyes wandering still. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't wondered why Hoseok didn't wear his packmate's scents.

It’s not like the alpha smells bad at all- a little strong sure, but less genetically dominant alphas tend to smell a little sweeter like omegas.

At least that’s what Namjoon says when he feels like info dumping. Late at night when the pack asleep around them and only Yoongi's stayed up to listen. Because Yoongi likes the sound of Namjoon's voice when he gets into the details. Stroking across Namjoon’s bare chest just to feel the alpha's words rumble against his fingertips. His heartbeat against his ear the backtrack for all of it.

Whoever Yoongi’s pack is; they surely love him a lot. That much has been evident since the second that Hoseok met him. Evident in the packed bento boxes and the bunny-eyed omega that walks with him to work sometimes. Or in the tall omega and alpha pair that Hoseok has seen perusing the shelves when he comes in to relieve Yoongi of his shift.

Hoseok has worked here for 6 months. It’s impossible not to collect these details. The hickeys on his throat that he wears after weekends, how ruffled but generally loved Yoongi looks when he comes back from rut and heat leave.

“Is there a reason why they left?” Yoongi tries to be as undiscerning as possible. Voice gentle and measured. Stirring the hot cocoa and putting it in front of Hoseok.

Hoseok takes a sip and it feels like he's drinking a cup of the beta in front of him. Yoongi melts a little into the chair at the happy noise Hoseok makes.

It's good. Really good actually, Yoongi uses twice as much Swiss mix as the package instructs and a tablespoon of honey to boot. More chocolate can never be a bad thing.

Before Hoseok has a chance to respond, The phone next to the cabinet rings. And Yoongi takes it off the stand and hangs it up again in quick secession so that it doesn’t ring anymore. It has to be important but he ignores it for Hoseok's sake. Yoongi does a lot of ordering for the shop, the rare records that their boss is always trying to source and sell. It's a lot of chasing down leads and curators.

(This is not true. This is a lie that Yoongi and his boss have fed him. This phone is set up for the family's use. Hoseok doesn’t know that most of the calls Yoongi answers are more delicate than just simple stock orders.)

“I just found out that my brother has stolen from me, what should his punishment be beta?”

“How much did he steal?”

“300k”

Yoongi swallows, fighting his narrow margin of benevolence. The drops of mercy that he's allowed to show without suspicion. He tells himself that the other beta would order a far worse. People only call him when they want lighter punishment.

“A finger for every 100 then.”

The people who call ask him all manner of things. Things like “I think my child might be planning on going to the police, what should I do before anyone finds out about it?” He is both a secret keeper and a jury.

“Send them away. Out of sight and out of mind of anything that they might be able to share. I hear the military academies are lovely this year. So much snow. Yes, they take omega recruits.”

“My firstborn child presented as an omega instead of an alpha. They're my firstborn and heir, how should I proceed?”

“I can ask around for an advantageous match but I’m sorry, there is no fixing presentation.”

Hoseok hasn’t seen a phone like that in years. Didn’t even know they made old-fashioned ones like that anymore. Ones with a dial, the blue plastic worn from the number of times Yoongi's had to pick it up. It doesn't stay silent for long, ringing soon after yoongi's hung it up.

“I'm the only- they’re an all-omega group.” As if by the mention of his sub gender Hoseok’s angry burning sugar scent fills the room. In reply, Yoongi’s sweetness rises. Hoseok takes another sip and pretends it's just the hot chocolate warming his cheeks. “I guess they wanted to keep it that way.”

"I've got two omegas and they keep me on my toes, I can't imagine four." That gets a laugh out of Hoseok.

"You've got a bunch of alphas in yours though, right?" A bunch already, I wouldn't be needed. Hoseok has seen them, the tall one with dimples that looks like something out of a soap opera. The scary-looking one with the chubby cheeks who's always holding hands with the pretty academic one who likes the jazz in the corner.

Yoongi nods, "That must be nice," Hoseok's eyelashes are all clumped together from the tears. "Having so many people to take care of you."

Yoongi hums, knuckles brushing Hoseok’s hand on the table. It’s just one tender touch but Hoseok starts to break. To crumple.

Yoongi senses Hoseok breaking, pulling him in close before he has a chance to really fracture (he comes just in time, Yoongi loves Hoseok just in time). Yoongi’s scent alone is enough to soothe him- beyond the way he guides the alpha to rest against his throat. Hoseok fights it only a little, what's a little scenting among friends?

They're not just friends, it's not just scenting.

Hoseok wants to bury his nose in the beta’s throat, but that wouldn’t be appropriate, not with the scent of so many others clinging to him. He still sags into the hug. Turns his face away to avoid the temptation.

“They didn’t even tell me- and now the lease on the apartment is up and I can’t afford it on my own and-“ I’m so scared and I just wish there was someone to take care of me. I wish I was a pup again.

They sit like that at the table and Yoongi just lets him cry, He pulls back after his sobbing has cooled. They hug until they both smell like gooey chocolate chip cookies with too much brown sugar.

Hoseok sniffles, “We have to open up the shop,” Yoongi's arms tighten around Hoseok's shoulders in reply.

“It can wait a few more seconds.” Hoseok wants to say that the owner wouldn’t like that but he doesn’t.

Yoongi sips and hesitates. “Do you have a place to stay tonight?” Hoseok pauses for a second, flushing before he shakes his head. “Okay, it's okay. You can say with me.”

“Are- are you sure they won't mind?” But Yoongi is already typing away on his phone, shooting a quick text to the pack group chat (a chat that Hoseok will be added to in exactly 23 days, but who's counting?)

“Not at all. It’s a bit cramped with all of us but we have a spare bed in the closet room that Tae likes to read on sometimes- Jungkook's boss slept there last night after they came back from drinking and Namjoon was so mad- he won't be mad about you though- it's just that Jungkook- he just really shouldn't be drinking."

"Is he underaged?"

"No, he's just got health issues."

"Oh." Yet another person who gets the love he needs, the care he needs. Hoseok tries and fails miserably not to be jealous over Yoongi's omega whom he's never met.

He won't be jealous for long. Later Jungkook is going to challenge him to an arm wrestle just to prove he doesn't need babying. Beating alphas in feats of strength is his favorite thing. He'll feel Hoseok’s hand in his and get completely distracted. "Wow, you've got like- really pretty hands!" and drag them close to his to compare sizes. He'll be smitten nearly instantly with Jungkook- for what it's worth. The jealousy only lasts for a few hours.

Within a few seconds his phone is ringing off the hook, he shows Hoseok the chorus of, “Yes it’s okay!” and “Poor thing, tell him he can stay as long as he wants.” "Of course hyung!" "Does Hoseok like kimchi-jjigae or should we just order pizza?" “Oh! Can we get some with pineapple?” “Gross Jk.” "Yeah we all know Minnie doesn't like the aftertaste of burnt fruit."

And Hoseok can't help but feel like he doesn’t deserve this kindness and such an effortless acceptance. There is a knock at the front door before he can say anything. A few short taps against the glass. Yoongi tells Hoseok to stay put while he goes to deal with a pushy customer who wants in. Leaving him alone in the backroom with his cooling hot coco and the poster still staring down at him.

(They say two can keep a secret if one of them is dead, but that's not the only way a secret stays buried; the best secrets are the ones you’re not even aware of.

Out of all the people in your pack. Hoseok is the only one in possession of a secret like this. The best kinds of secrets are the ones you don't even know are secrets see- he doesn't even know that this memory is enough to save you. Hoseok is entirely unaware that in his mind lies this memory.

Hoseok was the first person to get on the no-kill list, and it wasn’t because of Yoongi.

All packmates of a Don get put on the list;

no matter if they're active or past.)

Sitting at that yellowing wood table; Hoseok feels more settled now that he knows he has a place to sleep tonight that isn’t this backroom. Pulling the sleeve of Yoongi’s sweatshirt over his palms and sniffing at the collar where it was pushed up against Yoongi’s scent gland.

If he thinks hard, he can pick out a few scents here and there soaking the fabric. (Milky Omega Jin, Honey Sweet Puppy Jungkookie, Cinnamon sweet Alpha Tae and vanil-lalalala Jimin, Coffee Alpha Namjoon and Chocolate Yoongi).

It's so different from his ex-pack's scents. Their sugary sweet omega peppermint and sharp lemony evergreen, winter berry and pine, the cold smart of snow against his nose. His burning caramel scent- so off-putting. The one scent not Christmas-themed. The one that didn’t fit.

By comparison- Yoongi's pack smells like a bakery in summer. Every scent that could be added to a cake maybe (one day, in the kitchen, he’ll eat your tiramisu and realize yes- that’s exactly what it’s missing. Your cakey scent makes them all complete, the warmth of baking things).

He has somewhere to go now. Somewhere to be. Someone to trust. He trusts Yoongi- even if they’ve only known each other for a handful of short months.

And Yoongi’s pack can’t be worse than his last one.

As if in reply to Yoongi’s phone (buzzing with more texts that he doesn't check because Hoseok is nothing if not respectful of people's digital privacy. If he checked he would see "Is that the hot coworker you're always talking about? The one who always looks a little sad?")

Hoseok’s phone buzzes with the notification he's been waiting for.

Pack Omega 🌙 calling.

Pick up? Decline?

Hoseok hasn't yet gotten around to changing her contact information. He scrambles at it, spilling the hot cocoa across the table as he rushes to pick it up. Scrambling to get to it before it goes to voice mail. Blood pounding in his ears.

Hoseok’s voice is broken as he says his pack omega’s name, his old pack omega’s name.

“Byulyi- Moonbyul please-”

Moonbyul is cold on the other side of the phone. Maybe she’d have liked him more, and wouldn’t have given up on him if he didn't beg. But Hoseok has never been above begging. Not for love. Not for the thing he wants and needs the most. Hoseok needs love more than air and as Yoongi said- it's easiest to go looking for love where you once got it.

Even when you know it could hurt you.

Her voice is flat and unaffected. “I just wanted to make sure you found a place to stay tonight. Are you still going to be around to give the landlord the keys?”

Hoseok finds himself nodding even though he knows she can’t see him. “Yes- I can do that, I can do anything you want. Can we talk?”

“No.”

“Moonbyul please-”

“Goodbye Hoseok.” She says, hanging up after a second. Hoseok looks at the phone. Pushing the button to redial. It doesn't go. She’s already blocked him.

It will be a long time until Hoseok hears from his last pack again, a long long time until he says their names again. He will remember the way he’d begged, the way her name had sounded smack dab in the middle of it. And hate hate Hate how it makes him feel. He won't ever say their names, regret and self-disgust getting in the way.

It's a little funny, thinking of how different things might have gotten if he'd just told yoongi their names. If he hadn't let his alpha pride get in the way. A few days from now they'll talk about it together. "I don't like the way saying their names makes me feel- it feels- I hate how much I want to say it- to see them again- saying their names just reminds me of the power they had over me."

Never again, will Jung Hoseok beg for someone to give him the bare minimum. This is his lowest point. The moment where it shifts- for good.

His head is in his hands when Yoongi comes back into the room. Still sniffling, crying yet again. Yoongi sets a palm in his hair, ruffling it. Eyeing the spilled hot cocoa with a raised eyebrow.

“If you wanted coffee you could have just said so-“ he makes an attempt at levity and is rewarded with Hoseok’s small snort. Wiping his wet cheeks. Neither of them is aware of the secret. Neither of them is aware and so much worse off for it."

Hoseok grins, “Are you buying hyung?”

~-~

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~-~

Notes:

in the story there has always been this question- mainly raised by jimin during his secret chapters- if the m/c is actually in love with them or if she's just manipulating them- at the beginning of this chapter- we actually see jimin finally dispel the last bit of him that thinks even a little bit that this is the case. once he sees how much she put her body on the line- that question isn't even in the back of his mind- even a little. i ended up re-editing this part alot because of it.

every time i write something from jimin's pov i'm always like "why is everything so meandering? why are things disjointed?" and then i remember that's literally jimin's character- that he is in a lot of ways an unreliable narrator.

(TW) i have this idea in my head that namjoon DOES NOT become a good person in the event that all of them die like- a whole separate idea of him becoming a doctor for the family through yoongi's connections with the soul purpose of one day killing moonbyul and her entire pack…including their pups on accident which ends up destroying the last bit of namjoon's innocence as a person…and he ends up becoming one of the families assassins alongside jimin as a result, in this event jungkook does not stay with them and instead moves on and yoongi stays and tries to get them to stop only to ask them to kill him as their last kill because he's unable to cope with the loss of jin, hobi, the m/c and tae. BUT ANYWAY I DIGRESS THAT IS NOT THIS STORY.

i think in this story there is this really interesting dynamic of femininity and death and morality- that being said red nail polish is definitely a metaphor for whose comfortable killing and who isn't. i like the contrast between tae who will never wear red nails again- vs the moon pack who all are not allowed out of the nest if their nailpolish isn't perfect like- thats another layer of the fucked up shit.

are you suprised that the m/c is going to leave? Did you see it coming from a mile away? i mean...it is in the title of the series 😈

….the parallel between hobi losing his voice and the m/c not having a voice at the beginning of the series- you can project whatever meaning you want onto that <3

also on that subject the line "Jin’s hands. Your face. Tae’s head. Hoseok’s throat. Each of you has lost the thing most necessary to your survival." it's worth mentioning that thats not what i think is the most necessary thing to their survival but it is their own interpretation of what keeps them alive. like i for one actually think that the m/c is a lot more pragmatic than anyone gives her credit for but i digress. i could go on about all of their strenghts.

what did you guys think about hobi's secret reveal???? a fair amount of people have guessed it and i think when someone got it at the beginning of the series i lied and said it wasn't- i'm allowed to be an unreliable narrator too!!! kudos to everyone who got it! i feel like it could have been revealed better and originally the big one off was slated for next chapter but i decided to shift it to this one (mostly because i think the next chapter is about to get up there in terms of word count tbh 😭) but T-T its done now! please give me praise because i'm baby and this week has honestly been really hard

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thesunisatangerine · 1 year ago

Text

against all odds (to wait for you is all i can do) – part one

alexia putellas x photojournalist!reader

status: completed

(a/n in the tags) [parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve]

word count: 1.1k

The thing was, you didn’t plan on getting laid tonight.

After a couple of days trying to settle in at Barcelona and looking for your lost luggage, all you wanted to do was to finally start your vacation. You just wanted to relax and experiencing the night life in Barcelona was definitely a good way to officially kick it off.

So there you were at the bar of an (apparently) exclusive night club in the city–the location was emailed to you by Derek with a VIP pass and a note that said, ‘have fun ;)’–nursing your second, half-empty glass of mojito, the speakers blasting rhythmic reggaeton music, when a woman slid into the space next to you, cool and confident with the way she leaned on her elbows against the counter as she gave the bartender her order in smooth spanish, “A gin rickey, please.”

The woman looked to be several years older than you–and taller, too, even with your heels on–and maybe it was the alcohol or the proximity but there was no stopping yourself from openly admiring her. Her black, cropped top and her tight, high-rise pants revealed perfectly broad shoulders and toned arms, as well as the taught lines of her stomach. When your eyes travelled back to her face, you found her looking at you with a raised brow and immediately, your cheeks warmed. The fact that you were gawking shamelessly and got caught doing so… just wow.

Words of apology were already on your tongue but the curves of her lips were mesmerising, the elegant slope of her brows distracting, and those eyes… the depth in them threatened to drown you that all coherent thought deserted you.

“Wow,” you breathed out.

“Excuse me?” Came the bemused question, an instant slap to the face that sobered you up immediately.

“I’m so–I’m sorry, that’s what I meant to say. I’m–” You palmed a hand over your face as you began but a small chuckle stopped you halfway. You risked a peek through your fingers and saw the woman with her lips to the glass, something akin to a teasing smirk on her face while she remained leaning on the counter by her hip.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” The woman asked as she took a sip from her drink.

Not really the question you were expecting but you’d rather take a reprieve over a disaster. And at that, you smiled sheepishly at her. “Is it that obvious?”

“Hmm, no, not really. Your slight accent gave you away but your Spanish is impressive.”

“I’m still working on losing it but I’ll take that as a win. I’m assuming you’re from around here?”

“My home town is about an hour away outside of the city but I stay here most of the time for work.”

“That must be nice, being close to home.” Feeling more at ease now, you sipped at your drink. The woman did the same. Then you continued. “So, what do you do?”

For a moment there was nothing but music and chatter as the woman regarded you with an unreadable expression. Her eyes glinted–with what exactly? curiosity?–her head cocked slightly to the side. Then she sipped at her drink again. Did you say something offensive? you wondered.

“I work between the sport stadiums. And you? Where is home and what brings you to Barcelona?”

It was clear from the vagueness of her answer that the stranger didn’t want to talk about her job and it didn’t help your growing interest for her. You wanted to ask her about further details but the dismissive tone with which she answered made you hold your tongue and her question, anyway, made you pause as you pondered to answer.

As an orphan who lived a few years in the system, the subject of where home was had always been a sore spot for you even if the stranger didn’t mean anything deeper by it. In some sense, your adoptive mom was home but there was always a part of you that longed for… something. But, of course, you couldn’t bring that up right now especially to someone you just met. So you just told her where you were from, that you were on vacation, and that you work as a photojournalist for a press agency you helped establish. Something in your answer must had piqued the woman’s interest because her brows shot up.

“Which branch do you work in?”

“Spot news. But I’ve been meaning to expand my portfolio and get into another branch. Maybe try sports or portrait?”

The woman hummed in appreciation. “Any sports in particular? Wait, do you even like sports?”

“I honestly know close to nothing so I haven’t made a decision yet, but it will definitely be women’s sports,” you replied. She nodded and sipped at her drink again, never breaking her gaze from yours and you felt your cheeks warm again. Those eyes… they were dangerous; they lit up every nerve in your body and it felt good. You continued. “What about you? Are you much of a sports person?”

And to your total bafflement, the woman beamed at you, radiant and glowing, dimples in her cheeks as mirth shone in her eyes.

“What?” you asked, a bit nervous and at somewhat of a loss.

The stranger let out a small chuckle, shook her head slightly as she rubbed the bridge of her nose, an attempt to hide her smile. “Nothing, nothing. And yeah, I’m a big sports fan. Then a beat passed before she continued, “you ever thought of covering women’s football? There are plenty of matches happening in the domestic leagues right now.”

“Maybe I will,” you hummed, mulling it over. It sounded good actually. And then you asked, “what else do you suggest for someone to do in Barcelona?”

The woman downed her remaining drink and placed the empty glass on the counter. Before you knew it, you could feel the warmth of her breath against your ear and you shivered when she purred. “Dance, of course.”And then she was holding your hand, pulling you off of the stool you were on, and began dragging you to the direction of the dance floor.

All at once, warmth encompassed you: the crowd immediately swallowed you both, bodies pressed on you but the heat that emanated from the woman before you was the sole beacon for your attention. She had a loose arm around your waist and as the both of you danced to the music, you took that opportunity to wrap your arms around her neck and pulled her closer. She slowed down and she still had enough height on you that she had to lower her head.

“I never caught your name,” you spoke into her ear.

“I’m Ale,” she replied. She pulled back to smile down at you. And then, she kissed you.

#ap11 #not proofread #mine #my writing #a/n: meant to be a oneshot but im posting it as parts now 🥲 ill combine everything once i finish and post it on ao3 #meanwhile will reblog this to post future parts thats why the drop down is there ahahah #apologies for any grammar and spelling mistakes ill work on em later #woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader

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myfictionaldreams · 1 year ago

Note

Did the reader ever used the safeword with Bucky and Steve? And how did they react/ deal with it?🥺

The Limit // Mafia!Stucky x Fem!Reader

Summary: Everyone has a limit, this includes Steve and Bucky. What happens in different situations where each of you felt compelled to use your safewords?

A/N: thank you for the request! this has actually been requested quite a few times so I hope you all enjoy!

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, fluff, angst, threesome, safeword use, rough sex, anal, intense, overstimulation, restraints, blindfolds, punishment, spanking, anxiety attacks, protective steve/bucky, emotional hurt/comfort, aftercare, teasing, begging, subspace, pet names, everyone needs a hug, not beta read

Words: 5.1k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

ღREADERღ

During your intimate moments with Steve and Bucky, there was nothing more important than communication. If you liked something, let each other know. If you wanted to slow down or pause, just simply say the word yellow or tap your fingers once. If you needed everything to stop immediately, whether it was to reposition or discontinue the action, then you’d say the word red or shake your head.

It was a good system to have, especially during moments when scenes would become more intense or rough, needing to know what the limits of the other are, how the fun could continue or the aftercare to begin. Communicating was key.

For example, on one occasion of using the safe word ‘red’, your wants and needs were more than your body could physically cope with.

You were absolutely and truly fucked, sweat coating your body, eyes dazed, the pupils so wide it gave the appearance that your iris’ were shaded black. You were deep into subspace, no thoughts making coherent sense other than the need to pleasure Steve and Bucky, saying anything the try and get more of them, even if it was pushing yourself over the edge. At that moment though, you didn’t care, having orgasmed so many times that your body was refusing to move of your own accord with how weak your muscles felt but luckily Steve and Bucky were more than happy to move you into whatever position you or they wanted.

Currently, you were bent over the desk in Steve’s at-home office, the sturdy oak rubbing against your stomach with each thrust from Bucky’s cock into your arse as your body writhed and pulsed through its unknown number orgasm. At this point, your mouth was permanently opening with the stream of pornographic moans coming out.

Even though you were completely exhausted and definitely should have had a break, or just completely stopped but all your spacey cock-drunk mind could think of was the fact that Steve and Bucky hadn’t cum yet and you needed for them to fill you up. Their stamina was sometimes the best thing but also the worst, when your desperation to get them to their own orgasms but your body was completely exhausted. Particularly in between your legs, your clit was overly sensitive that every touch had you jolting, and your pussy was puffy from the fucking from both men.

“Want you both at the same time, please…” you groaned, words slurring slightly as you attempted to look over your shoulder to Bucky who stroked a hand down your spine, his hips paused to allow your body to adjust to the orgasm but his cock was still very much deep in your ass.

“Think you can handle us, Doll?” Bucky asked with a soft gaze in his eye, trying to assess if you were actually ok to continue. To his right, Steve was doing the same thing, his hand moving up and down his shaft at a leisurely pace.

There was one thing you were good at and that was begging as you pushed your hips back against his, not really pondering on the discomfort that came with it. “Please daddies, want you both, wanna feel full”.

That seemed to convince them enough that the comfort of the cool wood against your face was replaced with Steve’s shoulder as Bucky had wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted you with simplicity due to his inhuman strength. Your back was flush against his chest as Steve pushed against your front, his hands firmly under your knees to help keep you upright as your heavy head lolled onto his muscular shoulder.

“Pleaseeee”, you whined, sounding out of breath with the exhaustion of the rough sex you’d been having.

“I’ve got you baby”, Steve encouraged, his cock brushing against your clit as he tried to position it at your dripping hole. With your face now hiding in the crevice of Steve’s shoulder, neither he nor Bucky could see your visible wince due to the discomfort but still you held on to his blonde hair that curled slightly at the nape of his neck.

However, as Steve’s thick cock slipped into your over-used pussy, your low grunt that you made to match the instant tensing of all your muscles, Steve and Bucky’s eyes blazed with concern as they looked at each other over your shoulder.

“Hot Mama, what’s your colour?” Bucky questioned for your safe word, having already half-deciding that if you said green he wouldn’t believe you, blaming the subspace for pushing yourself past the limit of pleasure.

You had felt fuzzy when they’d first picked you up, but now, the discomfort and stinging from between your legs seemed to push some clarity back. Of course, you felt bad that Steve and Bucky still hadn’t cum but you knew it would cause more upset if they continued and caused you any further injury so accepting defeat, shoulders dropping, words now sounding more clear, “red”.

Steve and Bucky both loosened their position so they weren’t so squished against their bodies but still carefully held you up.

“Take a deep breath in and slowly release”, Steve instructed and as you breathed out, both cocks were simultaneously pulled out of your holes and you instantly felt relief. “Good girl, thank you for being honest with us, we’re going to look after you, ok?” Steve’s voice was gentle, as he continued to explain what was going to happen. “I’m going to wrap your legs around my waist and we’re all going to go to the bathroom, whilst Bucky gets you something to drink”.

This was exactly what they did, Steve taking all of your weight, wrapping your legs around his waist and then holding underneath your thighs to keep you upright as your body still felt like it was made of jello. You weren’t sure what to say, only thankful that you could trust these two men that would stop getting their own pleasure, so you kissed his neck softly, showing that you appreciated him. Steve’s grip tightened around you as he began walking out of the office and to the en-suit bathroom in your bedroom.

“Shower or bath?” he asked, mumbling the question against your temple, kissing the hairline even though you were still sheeted in sweat.

You contemplated for a moment, scrapping your fingers through his hair and decided that you wanted to be weightless and have just a moment to sit back and process everything. “A bath please”.

Steve filled the excessively large bathtub with hot, soapy water, knowing you all needed the heat to help relax the exserted muscles. Still holding you, he settled down, into the water, releasing a deep moan that vibrated against your chest as his grip on your thighs relaxed as you both were submerged.

His touch however didn’t end as he instead wrapped both of his arms around your back, holding you close to his front still. You felt safe in the embrace and the heat of the water soaking into your body, soothing the ache in your muscles and stinging between your legs.

A tap on your head alerted you to Bucky’s arrival as he crouched next to you, holding out a glass of orange juice with a reassuring smile. “Drink up mama, let’s start building up that energy, I’ve got some snacks on the bed as well”. Gently, Bucky tilted the glass to your mouth, helping you to drink the sugary drink that instantly quenched the thirst you didn’t realise you felt but also made you feel slightly more energised as you snuggled back against Steve.

The water lapped against the sides as Bucky climbed into the spacious bath, sliding in close to your side and kissing your bare shoulder, hand stroking over your upper back and with the sheer size of both of your boyfriend’s hands, the entire span of your back was not covered by Steve and Bucky.

“Are you ready to talk about it?” Bucky asked in between kisses along your skin. You nodded in response, pushing up off of Steve’s chest, testing your own strengths, surprising yourself when you were actually able to sit back fully on his thighs, noting the soft cock that now floated between your bodies in the soapy water. A pang of guilt settled in the pit of your stomach as you now looked between both boyfriends.

Steve tilted your chin with a single finger, making you look into his crystal-blue eyes, “I don’t like that look you’ve got, I’m glad you used your safe word, it’s the reason we’ve got them and Buck and I don’t need to cum to have a good time, do you understand that?”

“Yeah, I do”, you responded honestly.

“Good. Do you want to explain to us what happened?”

The three of you talked through everything, discussing what could be done differently next time like saying yellow and having a break or not trying to do every single sexual act possible in one evening. You even cheekily blamed their stamina for being too strong which earned a hearty laugh from them both before cuddling back onto Steve’s chest for a couple more minutes.

“Let’s get out of here honey”, Steve decided, beginning to shift to stand.

Your legs were still incredibly unsteady so you held on desperately to Steve as Bucky dried you with a fresh, warm towel, being careful over tender areas before helping to slip an oversized shirt over your head.

“Come here!”, you squealed as Bucky enthusiastically picked you up bridal style, kissing your cheek as your arms settled around his waist. It always felt odd when you were the one semi-clothed and your boyfriends were in the nude, usually, it was the other way around but you enjoyed it nonetheless, even though you’d been getting fucked by both of them not that long ago, you still admired their beautifully structured bodies.

“Eyes up, baby”, Steve joked from where he walked behind you, drying himself as he walked, purposelessly flexing his arms so the muscles bulged, and you bite your lip to hide your grin.

Bucky gently lay you in the centre of the bed, next to the collection of randomly selected snacks that ranged from sweets and chocolate to fresh fruits. The brunette slide in closely beside you, reaching around the begin rooting through the snacks before feeding you a couple of raspberries.

It was a peaceful end to the day and the complete opposite of how you thought it would be. The way they both tended to your needs meant that you were lost in a fuzzy headspace and even though your body would undoubtedly ache in the morning, you were just glad that you were with two men that always put your needs above their own and made you feel safe.

ღBUCKYღ

The safe word wasn’t just for you though and there had been occasions where Bucky had to use it as well.

You were 10 spanks into a punishment, thrown haphazardly over Steve’s meaty thighs, your body completely nude and arse cheeks raw to the touch from Steve’s palm. You were thoroughly enjoying the roughness but Bucky on the other hand thought Steve was going too rough, ignoring your pleasured moans and sopping wet cunt to show your signs of arousal.

Internally, Bucky was panicking from where he watched in a chair opposite Steve. His fists were clenched painfully, not that he could send the pain from his metal arm but the gears creaked from how tightly he was tightening his hand. Bucky never enjoyed it when Steve was super rough with you, even though you were adamant that you enjoyed it, Bucky hated to see the pain that came with the pleasure. You were his sweet Doll, you deserved the best and he always thought it was counterproductive to do harsh punishments. This was also why it was Bucky’s job during these moments to make sure to say if things went too far as sometimes you would slip into a headspace that wouldn’t care for your safety and let Steve continue until you passed out, and this, they definitely didn’t want.

Most of the time, Bucky was fine watching, allowing Steve to do any of the rougher sides of things during sex but today, there was something that didn’t settle right within Bucky. Without processing what he was doing, he moved off of his chair and squatted down next to your face from where it stared at the floor. As soon as you felt his cool metal palm stroke your cheek, you reached to hold onto the wrist, keeping him there.

Steve’s hand continued to lay spanks against your arse, each one you gasped and then thanked him for it as per your punishment rules and if you forget, then he starts again.

Bucky wiped away the tears that always seemed to fall during these moments, “are you ok, mama?” he asks under his breath.

“Yeah”, you say with a quiver in your voice, another tear sliding down your cheek. Bucky looked up at Steve with uncertainty in his eyes, unsure whether you were actually fine to continue or it was just Bucky who was feeling anxious and unnerved. Steve raised a single perfect eyebrow, questioning Bucky’s look and this was where you sensed the silent conversation that was happening. “Please sir, I can handle it, I’m ok”, you reassured Steve to continue with a simple shake of your hips.

Steve glanced at Bucky one more time before continuing. Three more strikes later and you released a different sort of whine one that gave Bucky pure panic that rocked his core, not being able to hear it sounded like you were in pain as he suddenly shouted, “RED!”

Steve immediately stopped, his eyes filling with panic as he helped to lay you on the bed, careful of your sore arse but he needed to see your face. “Baby? Are you ok? Talk to me”, Steve encouraged as he stood over you.

Blinking back tears, your body was trembling with adrenaline but you were clearly confused by the sudden stop to the punishment, disorientated as you didn’t say to stop. “Im…I’m ok, I didn’t need to stop, m’fine”, you mumbled, your tongue feeling too big for your mouth.

Steve frowned, even though you were confused, he could clearly see she wasn’t at any point to stop, not showing any visible signs of being in significant pain or distress. Confused he turned to Bucky who had stood, breathing heavily like he’d just been for a run, his eyes wild and darting between his friend and you.

“I thought she- she sounded like she was in pain I… I didn’t-.. I couldn’t-”, Bucky hastily rubbed a hand over his face, struggling to fill his lungs with air as his panic continued to escalate. He wasn’t sure if it was because of the confusion of hearing you whimpering in pain or the realisation that he’d stopped something you were clearly enjoying or the disappointment that Steve was bound to feel for stopping a scene early, or just a mixture of everything.

In his panic, he didn’t see Steve standing to his full height, his face calm and understanding as he approached Bucky with his hands outstretched, “Bucky, calm down, she’s ok, she’s not hurt”, the mafia leader tried to calm his second in command, sensing the edge of composure that Bucky had was close to slipping.

“Yeah…yeah she’s ok…” Bucky repeated, trying to almost convince himself but it wasn’t much use as he was close to a panic attack, something he hadn’t experienced since his time in the war with Steve many years ago.

“Bucky?” it was you now to notice the distress of your boyfriend. Even though you still continued to feel confused, your own anxiety was beginning to creep up with seeing Bucky’s panic. With a weak attempt, you tried to reach for him, your hands still visibly trembling from the comedown of the punishment, your eyes now filling with tears as you didn’t manage to grasp onto Bucky.

“I’m- I’m sorry I just-”, Bucky turned away, running his hands over his trimmed hair, trying to get some composure, seeing you actually becoming distressed with seeing him like this. From your position on the bed, you watched Steve stand in front of his friend, so he was facing in your direction, his expression concerned as he placed a strong hand on Bucky’s shoulder. Steve leaned in close to Bucky, talking seriously but in a hushed tone “Buck listen to me, she’s fine, take a breath for me, she’s alright”.

You wanted nothing more than to be with Bucky and make sure that he was ok, rarely ever seeing him like this. Forcefully, you tried to shake your body from head to toe, attempting to snap out of the confused state you were in, your boyfriend needed you, so you needed to get a hold of yourself. With great effort and a heavy grunt, you rolled onto your side, swinging your legs in front of you to try and stand on them.

However, they were still very unsteady and you weren’t able to push off of the bed. Steve noticed over Bucky’s shoulder what you were attempting to do and quickly rushed forward to stop you from falling, “Baby be careful, we still need to do aftercare, stay on the bed”.

“But I need Bucky”, your voice wobbled as you looked at Steve with sadness and fear.

Hearing you say that seemed to snap Bucky out of his feared trance and he was kneeling in front of you in a couple of steps, but you still noticed the way he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, “I’m here Doll, I’ve got you”.

Finally having him close, you tried to wrap your arms around his shoulders, leaning close to hug him but it ended up being more than he was holding your body up but he was more than happy to do that. Repositioning the two of you, Bucky effortlessly manoeuvred your body into his lap as he sat on the edge of the bed, being careful of your sore arse cheeks as he positioned your legs on either side of his hips in a straddle.

Neither of you says anything as you continue to build more strength and hold onto his shoulders firmer, face nuzzling into his neck, trying to reassure him that you were ok. Your fingers still held a slight tremble but you stroked circled onto the back of his head, making sure you were feeling more aware before you began to speak, “I’m ok James”.

The use of had his sagging, the tension running from his body as Steve returned from the kitchen, carrying two glasses of water forcing you and Bucky to finish them. All three of you sat in comfortable silence for a couple of minutes, allowing for the tension that had been thick in the air to disappear as you and Bucky regained composure.

It was Bucky who spoke first, wishing to explain himself even though this was unnecessary, “I’m sorry, I think you were in pain and I just couldn’t bare to listen to it-”.

You cut him off by leaning back, looking into his eyes with a sad smile, “It’s ok, you don’t have to explain anything, I’m sorry I distressed you so much Bucky”. Leaning forward, you closed the gap between your mouths, kissing him softly and letting him just feel you for a moment, helping his tense posture to relax further.

Steve sat beside his friend, returning his comfortable hand to his shoulder. “Sometimes we can all get a little lost in the moment but that’s why we have the safe words, it’s for all of us, to protect us, that’s what this relationship is about. I’m sorry it ever got to this point Bucky”.

“I know, thank you, both of you”, he sounded relieved and significantly more calm as he kissed your bare shoulder.

Steve nods, passing an affectionate hand on the back of Bucky’s head before standing, returning from the bathroom with the salve for your burning arsecheeks, asking with a questioning eyebrow, “Would you like to do it or shall I?”

Bucky contemplated for a moment, thinking it would be nice to be able to soothe your sore cheeks but he was also enjoying the embrace and decided he’d much prefer to stay like that, “You can do it, Steve, I want to stay right here”, his arms tightening around your body as your nuzzled in closer to him.

From the position you were being held in with straddling Bucky’s lap, it still meant that Steve could massage the salve into your cheeks and you tried not to wince at the touch but then the salve instantly soothed your hot skin.

As he finished, he looked up at Bucky who was watching his movements carefully, “You know, we didn’t manage to finish the scene - not the punishment, that’s finished, but she wasn’t given the reward and I don’t want her to go through a subdrop tomorrow, what do you say Bucky? Want to reward her for being such a good girl”.

Steve already knew the answer from the way Bucky’s eyes darkened, his throat bobbing as he swallowed harshly. There was nothing Bucky wanted more than to hear your sweet moans, especially after the panic of hearing you in pain, he wanted to make you feel good, “I would love nothing more than to do that”. You smiled against Bucky’s neck, looking forward to what was to come, planning your own reward to Bucky.

ღSTEVEღ

Steve held a significant amount of authority in his life, being the leader of his mafia gang, making all of the decisions to benefit others or take away their lives. So often in your relationship, you always joked about being in control for once and even attempted it on a few occasions by handcuffing Steve’s hands to the bed.

However, with his strength, he was easily able to snap out of them and regain control of the situation. It was Bucky who had the bright idea of using his strength that matched Steve’s to hold him down. This led to the current situation of Steve sitting in his office chair that was positioned in the middle of the room and his hands behind his back where Bucky held them with his metal hand.

All three of you were completely nude and you watched excitedly as Steve’s cock throbbed against his abdomen, desperate to be touched.

“Are you ready?”, you asked with giddy excitement, not bothering to hide your grin as you held the blindfold in your hand.

“More than ever, baby”, Steve responded with just as much enthusiasm, eyes taking in every inch of your naked body, trying to see as much as he could before he was blindfolded. With a seductive swing of your hips, you stepped forward in between Steve’s man-spread legs and placed the eyemask over his head, making sure it was secure and there weren’t any gaps that he could see out of. Steve was plunged into darkness, his arms flexing momentarily to check to hold Bucky had on him, only to find that it was very firm, there was no way he was getting out of it.

Grinning at Bucky over Steve’s shoulder, you began by placing a simple kiss on Steve’s lips, feeling him try and press firmer but you pulled back before he could try and gain control.

You thoroughly teased Steve for a bit, nipping and kissing the column of his neck before straddling one of his thighs, rolling your bare core against him so he could feel your arousal, watching his cock throb at the touch. It was exhilarating to see him in such a state and even though you never liked to really be in control of these moments, much preferring to be submissive, it was thrilling to hear the desperate groans of the most dangerous leader in all of Brooklyn, as you touched him everywhere except his cock.

Steve was both enjoying the dynamic and also finding it hard to adjust to not being able to see or touch your body with his hands. He always liked seeing you had a little bit more dominance but to take away his control completely was a different step he’d never taken before.

“Want to see you”, he admits, mouth hanging open to release a heavy breath as you stroked a firm line down his abs, once again skipping over his member. You don’t say anything but Bucky watches as you grinned, his own cock throbbing painfully hard as seeing the way you were teasing his friend.

“Please baby, I wanna see you”, Steve repeats, now realising just how much he missed your pretty face. You continue to not say anything, thinking that it added to the tension, especially as a bead of precum dripped from the tip.

The next part of your plan involved one of your favourite vibrators planning on holding it against Steve’s cock but as you stood to retrieve it, from the way you’d been straddling his thigh for so long, your legs felt slightly unsteady as you stumbled and accidentally stubbed your toe on the metal table leg.

You automatically squealed in pain, quickly smacking a hand to your mouth to stop any further yellow, looking back at Bucky with wide eyes as you tried not to laugh and cry from the pain at the same time. Of course, you still managed to be clumsy in such a sexual moment like you were currently in, silently thankful that Steve hadn’t seen otherwise he’d be teasing you endlessly.

Bucky was trying not to laugh as well, biting his lip as held in his chuckle, not noticing the way that Steve had tensed.

“Baby?” the restrained man asked, turning his head, not that he could see you. Your silent laughter to him sounded almost like you were crying with his heightened hearing, “Are you ok? What’s happening?”

You were still hobbling on one foot, massaging the pained toe with one hand whilst covering your mouth with the other hand, keeping in your increasing laughter. Because you were so distracted with easing the pain in your toe, you hadn’t noticed Steve going on high alert, spine straight, his arm muscles bulging from attempts to pull free of Bucky’s unbreakable grip.

It was only as he began to verbalise his panic, did you realise something was wrong, “Let go of me! RED!” Steve shouted with desperation causing both yours and Bucky’s hearts to hammer in your chests. Bucky immediately let go and Steve was instantly pulling off his mask as you rushed to limp over, arms reaching out to him.

“Are you ok? What’s wrong?” your hands cupped his distressed face, eyes wide with panic as he looked you over, seeing not life-threatening injuries before pulling you into his lap, forehead resting against your chest as you held him to you.

Steve doesn’t say anything immediately, just simply held you close as he tried to process what had just happened. Bucky walked around the chair, squatting down so he was eye level with the two of you as he asked, “Steve? What’s going on?”

Your fingers stroked gently through his hair, hoping that the touch was helping to calm him. “I’m sorry Steve, did we take it too far?”. You thought maybe it was the lack of control that had him panicking.

Steve’s voice was muffled as he spoke against your skin, “It… it wasn’t the control I didn’t like, I just couldn’t see you, I couldn’t get out... If someone came in, if someone came to get you I couldn’t get to you-”

He began to struggle with controlling his breathing again so you quietly shushed into his ear, holding him closer and realised that it wasn’t the lack of control with sex that he didn’t like. It was because he thought you were hurt and he couldn’t get to you and assumed the worst. You immediately felt guilty having caused him such distress.

“I’m always safe when you’re around Steve, I’m sorry I scared you”. The tension in his shoulders eased slightly as he finally pulled back to look into your eyes, taking a deep breath that filled his lungs completely before releasing it.

But then he notices something out of the corner of his eye, the panic returning once more as he stated, “You’re bleeding”.

You glanced down to where he was looking and finally noticed that where you’d walked into the table, you’d formed a small cut that had bled only a few drops of blood.

“Shit”, you say under your breath, looking back into his worried face as Bucky instantly held onto your foot, his metal hand helping to cool the hot skin. “I stumbled when I stood up and hit my toe on the metal legs of the table, it’s just me being clumsy that’s all, I’m not seriously hurt”.

Steve sighed, now understanding the noise he’d heard, his forehead dropping onto your shoulder as you nuzzled into his hair, holding him close. After a few minutes of him calming down, you asked, “Everything ok?”

The man in your arms leaned back, looking ashamed now as he began to speak, “Sorry for killing the mood-”, your hand was fast to cover his lips, cutting off his words.

“Nope, I’m not having that”, you say simply, giving him a stern look.

“Yeah man, we want you to enjoy times like this, remember? You always remind us that these words are there for a reason, if you feel unsafe then you have to use them no matter what”.

“It’s not my safety I was worried about”, Steve responded honestly whilst looking up at you.

Leaning forward, you kissed each of his cheeks gently, seeing his eyes close at the touch before you kissed his lips, trying to show how much you appreciated him with the touch. Leaning your forehead against his, you affectionately joked, “Always my knight in shining armour”.

Bucky stood beside you, catching both of your attention as he light heartened decided the next steps, “Let’s get dressed, get some take out and go home”. Gently he patted Steve’s shoulder and rubbed your back before walking over to the dumped clothes from earlier.

What you hadn’t been expecting was Steve standing suddenly with you in his arms still, “You can put me down!” you’re laughing as you say this, holding tightly onto his neck.

Steve finally smiled, “Not with your foot injury”, he jokes but you knew it was more than that with the way he was stroking your skin with his thumb and the intense gaze with which he looked at you. You knew he needed to feel you closer, even with the immediate danger having been explained to him, he needs to just make sure that you were safe.

#mafia au #mafia steve rogers #mafia bucky barnes #mafia bucky #steve rogers smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky smut #stucky smut #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #marvel smut #marvel one shot #stucky one shot #steve rogers #bucky #bucky barnes #mine*#request

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suguwife · 4 months ago

Text

𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮. (eleven)

tags: Gojo Satoru x f!reader, kpop idol x influencer, fake dating, 18+ mdni, mentions of drugs/addiction/substance abuse, overdose, angst, some fluff, profanity, hurt/comfort, smau series, written chapter

a/n: the povs in this chapter switch from sator → reader from time to time because they're on a phone call, i didn't know how else to explain what he's doing/feeling so sorry if it's a little confusing, but I tried to make it as easy to understand LOL

- 6.9k wc

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - Gojo Satoru, a top idol, finds himself at the centre of a public scandal after being photographed in a club appearing intoxicated. Rumors of substance abuse quickly circulate, causing fans and the public to question his reliability and professionalism. Due to severe backlash, his PR team proposes a fake relationship with Y/N, a social media influencer renowned for her healthy lifestyle, to salvage his tarnished image, reduce suspicions and trick the public. However, trouble intensifies when he's unable to let go of his addiction. - 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐕𝐄

(previous)

“Hey, Satoru?” You say through the phone, tone laced with worry as you sit up on your bed.

All you can hear on the other end of the phone is his laboured breathing and the rustle of his bedsheets.

Hearing your voice through the phone sends a sensation of relief into his system. He tries to speak, but his voice comes out weak, so weak it’s barely even a whisper, “Yeah.”

You don’t know what’s happening, you don’t know if he’s having some sort of panic attack or if he’s overdosed, but you know how to regulate breathing. And you need to act quick. “Follow my steps, okay? I want you to sit or lay down in a comfortable position. If you can’t sit up then lay down, whichever position is more comfortable.” You keep your voice as calm but firm as possible, not wanting to worsen his situation any further.

You don’t know what’s happening to him right now, but his breathing is slow.. too slow. It’s scaring you.

He sits up for a moment, but the room starts to spin and he's overcome with a wave of nausea. Laying back down on his bed, he sprawls out on his back “Can't... sit up. Lay..in’.. dow…”

There it is. His speech is slurred, struggling to form coherent sentences. Raspy and breathless.

He’s overdosed, you can hear it through his tone and how much it breaks your heart. Silent tears stinging across the edge of your skin around your eyes as you bite your lip down in worry.

Why does it hurt you so much? You barely know this man. But fuck. Fuck it kills you to see him hurting like this.

You were raised to be so kind hearted and caring, all it’s ever done is bring you pain as you absorb it from everyone else.

The world spins around him, taunting him for his recklessly stupid actions so he closes his eyes in an attempt to block the mock of the world.

“Okay.” You keep your tone firm and clear, hiding any signs of the tears falling.

Is it embarrassing to cry and hurt for a man you barely know? A man you met a week ago?

“Now I want you to place one hand on your chest and the other on your abdomen.”

He follows your instructions, resting one hand on his chest and the other on his stomach. He can feel his heart hammering against the palm of his hand, and his breaths come out shallow and slow. “Mh..”

He hates himself for this.

Hates himself for arguing with you before, telling you that he’s in control. But he’s not, he never is. That addicted part in his mind is in control, it wires him.

“Slowly inhale through your nose, ensuring that your abdomen rises more than your chest. just focus on your breathing and my voice okay? Follow my breathing. Inhale…”

Trying to focus on your voice and your instructions, taking in a shaky inhale through his nose, pushing his abdomen up to rise as he does so. He tries to stay focused, listening to your instructions and the sound of your breath, his thoughts slowly numbing with the sound of your voice.

Your sweet voice.

“Now let your abdomen fall back, exhale through your mouth this time, keep it slow and exhale longer than your inhalation.”

“Now again, same steps, okay? Inhale through your nose slowly and lift your abdomen..one.. two..”

He takes another slow but shuddered inhalation through his nose, feeling his abdomen rise with the movement. It's difficult to focus on maintaining a steady breathing pattern whilst his heart is racing along with a spinning vision any time his eyelids flutter open slightly, but he tries his best to follow your instructions, seeking help through your voice.

This is new for him. He's never asked for help like this.

He would never call Shoko or Geto when issues like this would happen. He’d just let himself go through the pain for a little while until he collapsed and would wake up hours later.

He wanted to feel the pain of his own actions, wanted to let his body punish itself for his stupid addiction that he can’t seem to get rid of.

Why is he seeking help through you now?

Why does he seek comfort in you?

Why is he hurting you?

But it’s your voice, oh your sweet and soothing voice. It feels like he’s on cloud nine hearing you through the speaker next to his ear. The high and the numbing combination of the drugs making your sweet soft tone sound so.. so beautiful to him. So calming.

And it’s you, you as a person. How kind-hearted of a woman you are to him. He had expected you to be repulsed by him, disgusted and angry when he’d opened up. But you weren’t.

Well, you were slightly angry. But more in a… comforting way. He doesn't know why.

Shoko gets angry at him too, but you’re different. Somehow. Maybe it’s just your beauty, or how you both clicked straight away.

You keep trying to help him, you don’t give up. You keep questioning him out of care, never giving up, and it makes you all the more beautiful to him.

Somehow, you calm the anxious racing thoughts that bite at his skull. He hadn’t realised until you left his car after the date. His mind was calm with you, no thoughts of trouble, just you.

But his body isn’t calm right now, his heart isn’t calm.

He can feel his chest rising and falling with each breath, his heart still pounding against his bones, but he tries to focus on his breathing like you tell him to and your voice providing him something to hold onto, something to ground him from his own actions of overdosing.

“Exhale through your mouth slowly, letting your body fall back.. longer and hold it.. one.. two.. three..four..”

“Now again, inhale through your nose..”

He nods, even though you can't see him, and takes another slow, unsteady inhale through his nose, his breath ragged and laboured. Despite the tremble and tightness in his chest, he manages to follow your instructions, his body beginning to feel a little calmer with each passing second.

But he’s glad you can’t see him, you would definitely be repulsed by him if you saw him in this state with your own two eyes.

He doesn't want you to be repulsed by him, but he keeps signalling you reasons to be. He keeps signalling warnings that you keep ignoring.

“And out again..”

He exhales slowly through his mouth, letting out a long, shaky breath. His heart is still hammering roughly against the bones and flesh of his chest, but he can feel some of the tightness easing up, his breath moving from slow to a little more steady.

“Is it still bad?”

The room is still spinning, his mind still fuzzy, but his breathing is more steady than before.

“Little... still dizzy.”

“Do you have any water near you? Close by?”

“Yeah..”

“Can your hand reach it without moving too much?”

His arm stretches for the glass of half-filled water on his bedside table, his hand trembling as he does so. “Yeah.”

“Okay, try to lift your head slightly and take a sip.”

He fumbles with the glass, but it shatters onto the floor, his own weak state mocking him. He doesn't have the energy to pick it up, instead just laying there, fuzzy and unstable, his eyes too exhausted to stay open.

The sound of glass hitting the floor echoes through the phone, making you flinch your head away, but you remain calm, for him.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, just lay down. We’ll carry on with the breathing.”

“Mh…sorry.”

“It’s fine, inhale through your nose again, hand on chest and the other on your abdomen. And I also want you to focus on one item in the room, can you find anything?”

He wasn’t apologising for breaking the glass, he doesn’t care about the glass. He’s apologising to you, for making you deal with his mess. He doesn't want to do this to you, but he is.

He does as you say, inhaling slowly and deeply through his nose, placing one hand on his chest and the other on his abdomen. He tries to focus on his breathing, forcing himself to breathe steadily. As for focusing on an item in the room, he looks around, quickly spotting a large plant in the corner.

He stares at the plant, his eyes fixated on the wide surface of the green leaves that hang off it. The dizzying sensation still hasn't fully left, but the plant helps him to ground himself, to focus on something other than the spinning room.

“Exhale through your mouth.. lowering your abdomen..”

He lets out a slow exhale through his mouth, his body relaxing a little as he lowers his abdomen.

“Let's keep doing that, okay? Breathe with me. Inhale…”

You didn’t care how long it’d take to get his breathing regulated again, to get his mind back to normal. You were scared. You were so scared. What if he just.. stops breathing? What do you do then?

He nods, taking another deep breath in through his nose. The process is a bit easier this time, his mind a bit less foggy and his heart rate beginning to regulate back to normal just a little.

“Exhale…..”

“Inhale… one...”

“Exhale slowly... one…two..”

He exhales through his mouth, the air leaving his lungs in a slow, shaky breath. Feeling a little more steady, the dizziness gradually fades away as he focuses on his breathing and your soothing voice through the speaker.

You continue to lead him through his breaths, in and out, in and out.

In and out.

You can only think, how much more will this happen? Will it ever happen again? You’re a week into this fake relationship, and you’re already dealing with the effects of his overdose.

What else would happen? It's cracking your heart, bit by bit.

And you don’t know why. You really don’t know why you care this much.

You can tell yourself it’s love.. but it’s not. You really don’t know this man. It’s more out of care and sympathy, so why does it make you cry? Why does it make you overthink? Why do you stress over him?

Through your instructions, his rotating mind begins to clear, the world not spinning as much and the tremble of his hands beginning to subside.

“Again..” You say quietly through the phone.

The process is becoming a little easier now, his mind clearing up a more, his heart rate nearing its normal beat.

He lets out a shaky exhale, closing his eyes for a moment and just focusing on his breathing. The room is no longer spinning, his chest no longer feels tight, there’s no hammers against his head or chest, his hands are no longer trembling, mind no longer fuzzy and numb.

He feels a lot calmer now, the breathing exercises starting to have a noticeable effect on his body and mind.

All thanks to you.

“Better?”

“Yeah.. better.. a lot better.”

“That’s good.”

“Thank you.. for your help. Thanks a lot.”

“It’s okay.” It’s not. “I told you I’d still be here when you’re struggling didn’t I?” And you always would be.

He nods, a small smile on his face as he looks up to the ceiling even in his current state. In all honesty, he can't believe you still stuck around after he argued with you earlier, but he's also more grateful than ever that you did.

“Yeah... yeah you did.”

“What happened?” You ask. You have to. And all you can do is pray he doesn’t give any bullshit lies to not worry you. You want to worry. You want the truth. You want to know all his imperfections inside and out. You don’t have the right to, not right now at least, you know that.

But how can you help him if you don’t know his issues properly?

You don’t hear him. He’s quiet. Probably making up an excuse or holding back whatever it is that he did. You know he’s overdosed, you can tell, it was obvious.

You just wanted to see if he’d lie to you or not.

“Satoru?”

“I took something.”

“What did you take?” You fiddle with your fingers as you look down, sitting up on your bed, knees crisscrossed, anxious for his answer.

“Something.”

“Yes, but what?”

He doesn't respond again, the only sound coming through the phone being his now stable and soft breathing. It’s almost as if he’s sat right next to you.

He runs a hand through his hair, letting out a sigh as he mentally prepares himself to tell you, “15 mg xanax. There, I told you.”

“What?” You quickly put him on speaker and move your phone away from your ear as you type up on your phone the dosage intake and its effects.

Fuck.

‘Highly dangerous and far exceeds the typical prescribed dose.’

His eyes squeeze shut, bracing himself for whatever you’ll say. “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry.”

“Just.. just xanax?”

He pauses, knowing that you won't take the next part too well. But he'd rather tell the truth than try and dodge any further questions, he'd rather tell you than try to lie about it. There's no escaping you anyway.

“You sure you want to know?”

“Yes.”

“..”

“Speak.”

“I snorted some heroin too.”

A heavy, tired exhale escapes your throat as you fall back into your mattress, fingers raking through your hair in distress and frustration, sitting in silence as you think.

This man said a couple hours ago “I’m in control.” But you know he’s not, you just wish he wouldn’t lie to himself about this.

He said, “I can handle it on my own.” But he can’t. He needed you to regulate his breathing. Needed you to prevent him from near unconsciousness, possibly even near death.

Silent, quiet tears prick your eyes again and you rub away the itchiness of them before you speak again.

“You could’ve died, you know. Your breathing was so unstable.”

His usual dry bitter laugh runs through the phone to your ear. His laugh is too bitter of a sound to even resemble true laughter. “I wasn’t going to die…”

He knows the statement is a complete lie. He'd been struggling to even sit up properly when he'd tried to call you, let alone form a coherent sentence when you answered. In all honesty, he probably would've passed out if you hadn't helped him.

“Has it happened before?”

“…Yeah.”

“And how did you manage to stay alive?”

“Luck, mostly.” He laughs as he speaks.

Why does he always laugh when talking about his issues? Why? Why does he brush it off as a joke?

“You helped yourself or did you just wake up again after passing out?”

“Both.. sorta. I don’t know. I forgot.” A sigh coming through from the other side, a shameful sigh. Shame at himself for seeking comfort through drugs.

Everything is still again, the only sound being the heavy breaths of the both of you.

“I'm sorry about before. I shouldn't have texted you like that or been so frustrated at you. I said shit I didn't mean. I know you just want to help. I'm sorry for being an ass to you y/n, really.” He really does feel bad. He knows he should've never even called you in the first place when he's like this, that it's not fair on you, it’s selfish.

He sighs again, burying his face in his hands for a moment. The drugs having dulled his mind from everything else but the guilt and shame, cutting deep wounds into his flesh.

“I know. Just don't lie to me. Saying you have everything under control then ending up being a mess.” You pause, inhale, carry on. “Stop lying and contradicting yourself. Stop thinking I see you as some charity case.. That's not the truth. You worry me, Satoru, and I care about you as a friend.”

Tears are rolling down your skin now as you both stay silent on the phone, your mind heavy with a migraine, but you keep quiet, not wanting him to hear your own weak sounds.

Deep down, he knows what you're saying is true.

He can't expect you to not worry or care when you know his issues. It’s stupid of him to even question you, but he does it anyway.

Even with the drugs messing with his head, he can't disagree with you. He does make a mess of things, he does say he has everything together when he's falling apart, he does always try and pretend he's okay even when he's struggling.

But he can’t help it, it’s how he was raised.

It’s how he’s wired his brain to deal with everything.

A sniffle through the phone lays inside his ear, the realisation hitting him like a ton of bricks. You're upset, you're crying, and it's all because of him. Guilt stabs at him.

This is why he had been trying to push you away through anger.

He doesn’t know you well enough yet, but he knows he doesn’t want to hurt you. Your heart is too kind to be broken by him. He feels unworthy of your kindness, aware that no help will work because, deep down, he doesn't want it. His mind clings stubbornly to the numbing euphoria of his drugs, rendering him unable to function without them.

Your voice comes out quiet, a little croaky from the tears, “Are you just not going to answer anything I said?”

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

You brush your hand over your eyes painfully hard, pushing down on your eye sockets to wipe the tears away.

It's quiet again.

He wants to say something, wants to apologise, to make things better somehow. but the words get stuck in his throat. He knows he has no excuse for anything he's done, and he's unsure how to make things better.

“Do I just end the phone call?”

The thought of that alone scares him. He doesn't want you to hang up. The thought of you being mad at him, the thought of you leaving because he couldn't control himself, is for some reason, unbearable. He wants you to ignore his issues, but he doesn’t. “No... no don't hang up, please.”

His mind and heart are a mess, guilt and shame battling for control in a constant push and pull.

You place your arm tiredly over your forehead as you finally speak after a moment of silence, “Can't u just try? Just try to get a little better? start by only taking less and less every few weeks?” You know he can’t, it’s hard. You know that. But what else can you say?

He's weak. Too weak to face his issues and too weak to deal with them on his own. “I don’t know how to lower it. I take different amounts when I feel like it.”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. The reality is a bitter pill to swallow, and he hates that he just can't figure it out on his own, that he hasn't even tried again in so long. “I just take whatever I feel like at the moment... whatever I think will help.”

“I’ll order the sugar tablets for you in a little bit.” It should help, right? People do the same for smoking.

“I can just buy it.”

“But you’re not going to, are you? I told you yesterday about this, did you buy any?” There’s a tone of bitterness within you as you respond back, laying on your side now under your duvet.

“No..I forgot.. too focused on practice for the upcoming tour.”

“I’ll have them for next day delivery to your penthouse, what’s your address again?”

“You don’t have to do that-“

“What’s your address, I forgot.”

“… 57 _____.”

“Okay, thanks.”

“You really don’t have to.”

“Just try it, see if it works, okay? I know going "cold turkey" doesn't work. So yeah, maybe have your usual morning dosage to ease yourself before practice and the rest of the day. then at night time when the cravings get bad, take a sugar pill instead.”

“Yeah, I’ll try it..”

Silence engulfs the call again, quiet tears still falling down as you bite down on your lip to stop any noises escaping.

“Are you.. are you crying, y/n?”

You don’t respond, stuffing the side of your face into the pillow and staining it with a couple tears. You don’t even know why you’re crying like this.

“You’re crying, aren't you?”

Of course you are, are you supposed to be happy and calm about this?

His heart feels heavy with guilt. He hates knowing that he's the reason behind your tears, and he hates himself for it even more. Hates himself for pulling you close to him.

“I'm sorry. I really am. I don't know how to fix it but I'm sorry for making you cry, please don't cry anymore, I feel terrible-“ He cuts himself off, running a hand roughly through his hair as he tries to keep his composure. Even with the drugs in his system, the weight of guilt and shame is still there.

He hates himself for making you feel this way, for being such a damn mess.

“It’s fine.”

"It's not fine. don't say that. It's my fault you're upset again. Stop being so damn passive towards me."

You scoff out in disbelief, choking out through your tears, “You’re one to fucking talk!”

“What the hell do you mean by that?”

“You’re the one who acts like taking drugs is all fine because you ‘apparently’ have it under control when you don't! You’re the one who behaves so passive about it. Then today, when I told you to let me know when you choose to lower your intake, you got pissed at me. Then what? You fucking overdose hours later and struggle to breathe, having to call me!” You exhale heavily, hands itching your hair in distress.

You're too stressed for your own good, but you can't seem to help it. It's as if your body insists on worrying about him, even without a clear reason.

Maybe it's the attraction you feel, but does helping someone in their darkest moments really require justification?

You’ll be with him for nearly a year anyway, you have to care.

He’s not a bad person. He’s not. Maybe that’s why you want to help him, you want to get rid of this poison that suffocates him with addiction. Want to make him into a better person.

Is he right? Are you treating him like a project? But you don’t gain anything from this. Nothing but more pain within you.

His heart sinks with every word, the guilt and shame piling on top of him with each thing you point out. You're absolutely right, and he knows it. You’re able to see through every single facade and front he's put up, no matter how hard he tries to hide it, you always get the truth out of him somehow.

He lets out a soft sigh, the weight of everything you said settling upon his shoulders. It's so, so goddamn heavy. It almost feels suffocating, and he has no idea what to say in response to it all.

“Stop being silent. Answer me.”

“I don't have any excuses for anything I've done. you're right. And I'm so goddamn sorry for putting you through all of this.. This mess of mine.”

“I wish I knew how to help you properly.” Your voice cracks and breaks, weighing with emotion as you mumble into your pillow, silent tears staining the sheets as you do so. What if you end up researching incorrectly to help him? What if you end up being the cause of why he gets worse? You can’t help but think, will you ever truly help him with his addiction or will you only be able to fix his image?

You don’t want to do that, you don’t want to just fix his fake appearance to the public. You want to help him as a person.

“No, you've helped more than you think. You really have, and I wish you didn’t have to.”

“I have?”

“Yeah, you have, sweetheart. You’ve put up with so much of my bullshit only a week into this ‘fake relationship’ even though I’ve given you so many reasons not to.”

“I kind of did have to though. It’s a small part of the contract. And I have to because… well I just have to.”

He lets out a soft, bitter laugh. Even if you'd been obligated to by the contract, he still considers himself beyond lucky to have someone as caring and as sweet as you. Sure, he hadn't been the best person at expressing his gratitude, but he knew that even though it was technically part of your job, no one else would've done it.

“Only a small part of the contract. Still more than what was required.”

“Will you take my advice? The sugar tablet thing?”

“I’ll try it.”

“You’ll call me again when you’re struggling?”

He's quiet for a moment, thinking it over. Part of him wants to say no, that he can do it on his own. but deep down, he knows that he probably will need to reach out from time to time, hurting you in the process.

He doesn’t want to hurt you. But he does want you to be there for him.

“I will but, won’t you mind or find it annoying?”

“I don’t mind.”

“But you’re cry-“

You cut him off, speaking firmly before he can finish his sentence. “I don’t mind.”

“Are you sure you won’t mind? Even if it’s late at night?”

“I won’t mind, Satoru. Not one bit.”

Oh god, the way you say his name, the way it rolls off your tongue so perfectly makes his cock pulse, just a little. A little thump of attraction causing his body to tense up as his eyes flutter.

“You promise?” He whispers through the phone.

“I promise. Are you going to promise me that you’ll really try? Seriously promise me?”

He's quiet for a moment again, thinking it over.

He doesn't like being put on the spot, and he doesn't like making promises he's not sure he can keep. “Yes. I'm serious. I promise I'll try my best.” But he doesn't know if he’ll really keep such a promise.

“Okay……” As you trail off you quickly order 3 capsules of sugar tablets to his address, clicking buy. “Okay, the sugar tablets should come by tomorrow around 10am till 11am.”

“You really didn’t have to bother, I could've bought it myself, it's not that hard.”

“But you weren’t going to.”

He’s quiet again, knowing you’re absolutely correct.

His own stubbornness is one of the things that led him here in the first place, and he's not surprised that you're able to call him out on it so easily

“No, I probably wouldn't have. But you really didn’t have to bother.”

“Oh my god I’m going to end this call.”

“Wait! No, okay fine. Fine, thank you.” The words rush out of his mouth before he can stop them. Part of him hates being forced to accept the help, feeling like it makes him pitiful. But part of him wants your pity too, craves your care. Craves the care of a woman who he isn’t just using for hookups.

“...Do you want me to stay on the call?”

He pauses, thoughtfully weighing his response. He dislikes having to unload his troubles on you. Yet, a selfish part of him longs to keep you on the line, to savour every moment of your voice for as long as possible. “Stay on the line for a bit longer, please.”

“Okay, I’m here.” You shift in your duvet, snuggling into the warmth of your pillow and blanket as you listen to his breathing. It calms you a little. It’s as if you’re sleeping right next to him.

You don’t mind this.

He lets out a soft exhale, the sound of your voice and your soft breathing nearly making his heart skip a beat. It feels like such a normal, domestic moment, like something that a normal couple would do, and the thought both comforts him and makes him want more.

He lets out a gentle hum, the sound soft and quiet as he speaks, “Thanks for staying, I really appreciate it.”

“Mhm. Are you going to go to sleep now or later?”

“I'm probably gonna stay up a bit longer, not feeling very tired just yet. What about you?”

“Probably soon.. Oh I forgot to tell you. We have a Buzzfeed interview Thursday, Jimmy Fallon show on Friday, did your manager tell you?”

“Oh.. shit. Yeah he told me.”

“You forgot?”

“No I didn’t forget.. just hate interviews sometimes. They ask too much.”

You giggle tiredly into the phone, making him smile tiredly as he closes his eyes, melting the sound of your soft and warm laughter into his brain, scared he’ll forget it.

You both talk about a couple of easy lies to get through for the interview, that you both met each other a year ago, that Satoru made the first move etc etc.

“Hey.. can you talk to me for a little longer? Stay on the phone?”

“.. Still not tired?”

He hesitates at the question, hating having to admit it. But he decides to be honest with you, telling you the truth. "No, I can't.”

“Have you got insomnia or something?”

“Yeah.. sorry.”

“No, it's fine, don't apologise. We can stay on the line a little longer.”

“You sure? You don’t have anywhere to be tomorrow? I don’t want to be a bother when you want to sleep.”

You giggle softly through the phone again, his heart fluttering in response. “I’ll probably fall asleep whilst you talk later on, but not yet.”

He lets out a soft exhale, half laughing at the thought, "As long as I can keep talking to you, I don't mind if you fall asleep.”

“You need to sleep too.. Don’t you have any sleeping pills? You have all these drugs but nothing to help you sleep?”

“I do.. I just.. don’t want to take it right now.”

“Why not?”

“.. I like the feeling.”

Is he crazy? “Of what? Your body struggling? You like the side effects of the drugs you take?”

He's quiet at that, the realisation making him flinch. It's an uncomfortable thought. “Yeah, I guess.”

There’s silence over the phone again as you try to process his mind. Is he addicted to the struggle?

“Why do you care so damn much?”

Oh god, he’s back at it again. Defensive Satoru.

“Are you seriously asking this fucking question, again?” You're more irritated now, what doesn’t he get? Why can’t you care? It’s not a crime.

"Yeah... Yeah I'm asking that question again, because I honestly don't get it. Why do you bother helping me more than you need to?"

“I don't know!”

He lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. He doesn't get it, he doesn't understand why you go so far out of your way to help him, a stubborn idiot who can't look after himself.

“That doesn't sound like a good enough answer.”

“Then I'll end the phone call.” And you really are about to hit that big red button.

Panic seizes him as he speaks up, "Wait, no, I'm sorry. don't go, please..I'm serious, I'll stop asking, just please... please don't hang up, just stay on the line for a bit longer.” He's practically rambling now, the thought of you hanging up making his gut twist painfully and you feel bad but you can’t help but muffle your giggle into the pillow. Such a desperate man at the age of 28 begging for you to stay on the line.

“Did you just laugh?”

“You sound so funny when you beg like that.”

“I’m not begging.. just telling you to stay on the phone.”

“Mhm..” Begging.

“God, you’re insufferable.” But he's smiling again at you, the butterflies in his stomach fluttering at the sound of your voice.

“You’re one to talk.” You scoff out sarcastically with a smile.

“Yeah..” He sighs, “I guess that’s fair.”

It's silent for a moment again until he speaks up, "Uh... Are you sure I'm not keeping you up? If I'm bothering you, you can just... hang up.”

Wasn’t he just begging you not to? “We can stay on the phone.” Because some part of you still wants to, you still want to hear his voice, still want to hear his breathing, steady.

Not slow, steady.

"Yeah? You don't mind if I keep you on the phone for a bit longer?" He turns to sleep on his side, the back of his hand pressing against his cheek as he rests and smiles.

“I don't mind, you can keep talking if it eases your mind, but I might not respond properly... tired, you know?”

He lets out a soft laugh, amused at your sleepy voice over the phone. “Really? You don’t mind at all?”

He keeps seeking confirmation from you, over and over. Keeps seeking reassurance, over and over, as if he’s not sure about anything.

He really has never seeked help before from anyone, too uneased by the thought. It wrenches your heart, the thought of him never looking for support in others unless they provide it to him. The image of him pushing Shoko and Geto away like he said he did, the thought of him and Shoko arguing about his addiction.

He’s been too scared to show others his weaknesses, but he’s not with you. At least you hope he isn’t.

He’s asking you, seeking confirmation.

“Really. You like talking, don’t you? Chatterbox.”

A soft chuckle leaves his throat again as he shifts on his bed to get more comfortable. Talking to you on the phone has helped clear his mind once again. “Won’t my voice keep you up?"

“No.. I can sleep to your voice.”

“Really? My voice doesn’t annoy you?”

“Sometimes yeah, but you’re talking quietly now.” His voice sounds more calm, a slight whisper, a little deep but still with that slight raspy and confident croak. You could describe how his voice sounds for hours if you were asked.

“Yeah, yeah don't get too used to it though. I'm sure I'll start being obnoxious soon enough.”

And you laugh again, muffling it slightly into your pillow as you shift once more in your blankets.

Even when you're tired, he still finds you so goddamn endearing. “You comfy enough over there?”

“Why? You want to help me get more comf-“ You cut yourself off, realising how intimately sexual that sounds. God you’re such an idiot, it just slipped out really. But did it though?

You hear him choke on nothing but the air surrounding him, oops..?

He flushes bright red, laying on his back as he stares tiredly at his ceiling and he’s so glad you can’t see his face right now.

His mind wanders to all sorts at the implication, remembering the feeling of being inside your warm, wet walls in his car yesterday night. The sensation of your saliva on his cock, the way he fucked you deep into your throat, the sounds of your moans and whines, the scratch of your nails against his skin. Your skin was so soft near him, and he's suddenly craving for that again.

Craving for the smooth coolness of your skin as if you're his drug. It's all coming back to him just from one little joke of yours.

But it didn’t mean anything to you, you confirmed that. He just has to accept it and make himself believe it was meaningless to him too.

He clears his throat awkwardly as his body heats up at the reminder of you, "Uh, no reason. I'm just... just asking. But I mean, if you do need help or something.... I could... uhh-"

“Oh shut up. I didn't mean that... oh my god... it just came out..”

“I mean I could-“

“No.”

“Right.. yeah.”

You rub your palm over your face at annoyance with yourself, how could you say such a thing knowing how unserious and flirty he can be?

It’s quiet again, awkwardness filling the phone call until he speaks once more.

“It's just a good thing we’re on the phone and not in person.”

What does he mean by that? This idiot. “We’re not having sex again.”

He chokes again, flushing at the blunt way you say it, the way you immediately shut him down, "I wasn't suggesting it..”

You so badly wanted to laugh out loud at him playing it off, it’s too funny, he’s too obvious. “You literally did.”

He goes silent at that, caught off guard and embarrassed now. He can't deny it, and he doesn't know what to say. He tries to change the subject quickly before he digs the hole any deeper. "So uh... you... you getting tired yet?"

Nice way to change the subject, Satoru.

“My legs are killing me... like my bones hurt and my head hurts too..”

“Why does it hurt?”

You don't want to tell him about your disease. Nobody knows, not even your manager. Only Utahime knows.

It'll ruin your image of a healthy influencer. It’s awful of you, really. He tells you almost everything about his issues when you ask.. but you have to lie to him for your own sake.

“I don't know...”

“I can find a painkiller or something for you if there's a pharmacy still open.”

Why would he do that? It’s almost 12am.

You give a weary chuckle, “No it’s okay, I already took one and you’re not coming to my place just for a pill so late at night.”

“I totally would come.”

You laugh again, rolling your eyes with sarcasm, “Oh, and you going to give me a massage too?”

“I.. uh…” He stutters, and you just know his mind is going to inappropriate places again. Idiot.

“Tch, stop taking everything so weirdly!”

“Well I can’t help it. My mind just.. goes there.”

“Yeah because you’re a dog.”

“Uh, no.” He says firmly with a tone of sass, “No I’m not. I’m not some perv.”

“Yeah, sure.”

He huffs again in annoyance like a child, “I’m not! I’ve got control of my mind. I’m not some lustful idiot..”

“Yeah… sure.” You say with a chuckle, turning your head to look up at the ceiling as you laugh.

He groans by how much you keep teasing him. "I'm serious. I've got control over my own thoughts y/n.”

…

Your smile falters a little from his words, he said the same thing about his drug usage, and what happened after that? "I might go to sleep soon.” You murmur quietly, “You can keep talking though.”

"Yeah... yeah, okay.” He knows you're getting tired and should be going to sleep, but he doesn't want to let you go.

Your mind is pulsing, gnawing and scratching against your skull, your legs feel as if they weigh 10x heavier, as if an anvil is pushing them down.

You shift on your bed multiple times from uncomfort, breathing slightly heavily.

“Does it hurt that bad?” He asks softly, his voice laced with concern rather than mockery.

“They fucking kill..my legs especially” You groan into your pillow, moving around once more with a creak of the bed.

His frown deepens, worry growing within him, “I thought you said you already took a painkiller?”

“I did.. Shits not fucking working.”

A sense of helplessness overtakes him. Your discomfort and pain itches him to go to you and try to relieve you somehow the same way you do to him, even if it’s just a bit. “So why isn’t it working then, shouldn’t it make the pain go away?”

You furrow your brows, stretching your body out breathing heavily from the pain throughout your weakened body, “How the hell would I know..?”

“Right, sorry.. stupid question..” His fingers scratch against his white hair, brows knitted together with agitation for the pain you’re going through. “Is there really nothing to help? Nothing else you can take for your pains?”

“I’ve taken everything already..” you knead your palm into the temple of your forehead, cracking your toes as you curl up into a ball hoping to ease the muscle pain just a little.

He swallows, that feeling of worry increasing and the feeling of uselessness growing, “Nothing works at all?”

“Mh.” You groan with a scrunched face, shifting in your bed once more hoping to find a position that’ll help but nothing is working.

Either your period is coming soon, or your muscles are just weakened, or maybe it’s both.

He lets out a shaky exhale, feeling frustrated and worried all at the same time. He hates the fact that he’s on the phone while you’re in all this pain, hates that he can’t help you without being there for you. You’re able to help him over the phone, but he can’t do the same.

”Shall I come over?”

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thefoxholecast · 9 months ago

Text

The Original Foxhole Court Extra Content (Archived from Nora Sakavic’s Tumblr)

We copied the following text directly from the pre-2024 version of the Foxhole Court Extra Content page on Nora Sakavic’s Tumblr blog (korakos.tumblr.com/fox). In March 2024, she did “some spring cleaning” by shortening the list of links and deleting/hiding old posts. The links in this copy lead to archived snapshots of the old posts on the Internet Archive Wayback Machine.

Some of the links are broken. If you have copies of these posts, please let us know so we can fill in missing content!

Because Tumblr only allows up to 100 links per post, we're unable to replicate the full list here. View the full list of links on our blog here: thefoxholecast.tumblr.com/FoxArchive

The Foxhole Court

ETA 2023: most of the posts here are from 2013-2015. Some of them overlap with older drafts. Some answers have evolved over time, even if they haven’t been updated here. Most I haven’t changed my mind on, for better or worse. Take ‘em or leave ‘em, and good luck making sense of ‘em around all the drunk rambling and detours. One day if I have the energy I’ll just sort it into a coherent reference.

Two sections here: the questions submitted by tumblr users, and a miscellaneous collection of stories & factoids pulled from the oft-neglected blog. The questions aren’t in any particular order, though I did try to organize them by subject matter. Ish. Once the dust is settled a bit I’ll try to find a better sorting system. Also, the tumblr tag I use for questions is http://korakos.tumblr.com/tagged/foxhole-court-questions-and-spoilers

Lots of spoilers for The Foxhole Court ahead!

Preface: Why are Asks disabled in 2016?

COURTING MADNESS

—Exy Rules & Regulations

—Exy: A History of the Sport

—Palmetto State University

—The original “What Happens After King’s Men” post

—SON NEFES, the cousins’ freshman year through Renee’s eyes

——One . Two . Three . Four . Five

—Nicky Hemmick

—Seth Gordon

—Aaron Minyard

—Matt Boyd

—Kevin & Andrew

—David Wymack & the Monsters

—Wymack & Andrew re: Neil

—Dan Wilds is recruited to the Foxes *

—Allison through Dan & Renee’s eyes *

——pulled from an abandoned, unfinished book about the Foxes’ women

TUMBLR

NEIL

—Neil’s life on the run

—Do they ever celebrate Neil’s birthday?

—What if Neil told the truth earlier?

—Neil through the Foxes’ eyes

—Neil through Ichirou’s eyes

—Neil’s looks post-book and relationship with his reflection

—Does Neil ever talk to Bee?

—Neil’s millions

—Neil’s fight training

—Who’s Neil closest to beside Andrew

—Neil’s fashion style

—Cellphone ringtone

—Christmas/birthday presents for Foxes

—Does Neil ever cry?

—Neil’s lonely fifth year

—When Neil’s overwhelmed

—Does Neil crush on his teammates?

—Neil & Ichirou’s intimidation

ANDREW

—Andrew’s sober look at his teammates & Neil

—How did Andrew react to Cass’s letter?

—Andrew’s medication and the follow-up

—Has Abby seen Andrew’s scars?

—Andrew & Mama Bee

—Andrew & Roland

—How far has Andrew willingly gone?

—What animal figurine did Andrew buy Betsy?

—Andrew’s eye color

—Andrew’s opinion of the cats

—What’d Andrew say to Nicky in TKM?

—Andrew’s honest opinion of Exy

—Andrew’s thoughts on Neil’s binder

—Andrew and his sexuality

—If Andrew had met Neil’s mother

—Andrew’s thoughts on Neil’s sexuality

—Andrew’s fondest memory of Neil

—Andrew’s aforementioned withdrawal

—Do you think Andrew is really really really awesome?

—Proust and Andrew

—What happens to Proust?

—Andrew’s reaction to Neil’s bday blood

—Andrew on Neil eventually changing out

—Does Andrew get grumpy?

—Does Andrew get less dead inside?

—Does Andrew call Neil by his name?

—Why give the Foxes crackers?

—Andrew’s first choices in winning a fight

—Who liked knives?

—What got chopped from Drake’s arc?

—Does Andrew get off thinking about Neil?

—Post Andrew & Bee’s side story?

—When did Andrew start thinking Neil was interesting?

—Any other words he can’t stand?

—What does he think about nicknames?

—Explain Andrew’s fatal disease in the comic version

—Andrew’s canon mental state

—How did Andrew not know about Tilda’s abuse?

—Why punch Neil for “Sorry”, and when Andrew is sick

—What’s with Andrew and promises

—Andrew’s thoughts on Roland’s premature confession

—Andrew’s arrest

—Wanting nothing vs not wanting anything

—Why was Andrew laughing after Drake?

—If Neil had chosen Dan & Matt over Andrew

NEIL & ANDREW

—The other 10%

—Which teammate caught on first?

—Do Andrew & Neil go on dates?

—When did they first hold hands?

—When did Andrew clue in?

—Exites self-censure

—Betsy’s & Aaron’s reactions to the news

—Roland’s opinion of things

—The breaking point

—Who tops?

—On tying people up

—Their domestic life aka Sir Fat Cat

—I love you

—Andrew and the bed issue

—Nightmares

—Do they learn to talk to each other?

—Blaming Neil for Drake

—Andrew comforting Neil?

—Neil’s fondest memory of Andrew

—Neil getting Andrew off for the first time

—Neil seeing Andrew naked

—Neil & the sex how-to

—How was the first time

—Where’d it happen?

—When was their first hug?

—“I won’t let you let me be”

—Their roadtrips

—Neil waking Andrew up

—Andrew’s real smile

—How does Andrew show appreciation for Neil

—Their happiest moments

—Does Neil ever make Andrew laugh?

—Does Andrew take comfort in Neil

—Does Andrew get protective/possessive?

—Doesn’t Neil crave affection?

—Andrew re: Neil’s panic attacks

—Media reaction to Andrew/Neil

—Further reaction to Andrew/Neil

—On “accidentally” sitting in laps

—What if Andrew died?

—What if Neil died?

—Reaction to getting hit on by others

—Do they celebrate anniversaries?

—The first time Neil pushes Andrew down

FOXES

—How tall are the Foxes?

—Why is everyone so short?

—Where did their names come from?

—What were their majors?

—What do the Foxes look like?

—What are their Hogwarts houses?

—Reaction to the kidnapping

—Do Neil & Renee become friends?

—What did Allison do with Seth’s urn?

—Nicky’s evolution over the drafts

—Do the Foxes get their skiing trip?

—Does Andrew know Nicky kissed Neil?

—When did Aaron & Katelyn fall for each other?

—How did Andrew and Wymack end up handcuffed together?

—Kevin’s favorite things

—Kevin and Andrew’s on-court kerfuffle

—Dan’s haircut

—Dan & Matt’s relationship

—Dan & Matt’s first kiss

—Matt bouncing back from Columbia

—Matt rooming with the monsters

—The other what-if OT3 aka D/M/N and the dynamic

—Do Allison and Renee have the hots for each other?

—Matt forgiving his father

—Any mistletoe shenanigans?

—Thanksgiving and the Foxes

—Kevin’s best friend

—Janie Smalls

—How did Kevin and Thea meet?

—Foxes’ favorite ice cream flavors

—Kevin & Andrew’s on-court argument

—Foxes’ taste in music

—Kevin’s middle name & drink of choice

—Do Kevin & Neil want to kiss?

—Which Fox would Kevin kiss, then?

—Kevin’s best non-Exy memory

—Allison’s three bets

—Why is Allison’s middle name Jamaica

—Kevin, Andrew, and Neil staying friends

—“Joan of Exy”?

—Can the Foxes sing?

—Some of the Foxes’ previous bets

—Do Nicky & Allison become friends?

—Are Foxes based on RL people?

—Nicky when Neil asks about friendship

—Dan & the monsters in Columbia

—What if Kevin was killed?

—Renee and her near-death experiences

—More background available on Renee?

—Why doesn’t Aaron let the Foxes in?

—Team’s reaction to Drake, Andrew’s reaction to being outed

—Andrew & Aaron’s time with Tilda

—Does Aaron reconcile with Andrew over Tilda?

—Nicky & his parents after Drake

—Foxes thoughts in Baltimore

FOXES POST-TKM

—The Pro Teams

—The Weddings

—Neil as the Best Man?

—Kevin after TKM —Thea, Jean, Foxes, and Riko

—How does Kevin & Wymack’s relationship evolve?

—Renee after TKM

—Nicky after TKM

—Aaron after TKM

—Allison after TKM

—Dan & Matt after TKM

—Dan and the US Court

—Any pro-period scandals?

—Andrew & Neil’s relationship with their team

—Would Neil hold Matt’s children?

—Neil & babysitting the Foxes’ kids

—Which Fox’s child would curse first

THE FUTURE FOXES

—Who is Robin Cross?

—Neil and Jack

—Andrew’s reaction to Neil punching Jack

—Foxes’ reaction to Neil punching

—Kevin and Jack

—Neil’s new recruit

—Andrew and Jack

RIVALS

—Who is Riko Moriyama?

—Riko & Kevin’s evolving relationship

—More about Riko & Kevin’s past

—How did Riko break Kevin’s hand

—Riko’s brutality toward Jean

—Any draft where Riko wasn’t killed?

—Were Riko, Kevin, and Jean involved sexually?

—Does the Fox-Trojan rematch happen? Also how do the Trojans & Jean get along?

—Do Alvarez & Laila (Trojans) have backstories?

—Thea’s number & thoughts on Raven brutality

THE “ADULTS”

—Kayleigh Day & David Wymack

—Abby Winfield & David Wymack

—Wymack’s parents

—Did Wymack cry during the trilogy?

—Did Kayleigh know about the Moriyamas?

Nora & the Foxes

—Fancast and Andrew

—Changing opinion of Foxes over the years

—Bits of the scrapped K/N/A threesome here and here

—The KxAxN AU where Kevin died

—Will there be a sequel?

—What inspired you to develop Exy?

—Fox fanfictions, collected by coldsaturn

—Why a pseudonym?

—What came first, characters or story?

—Were you the artist of the comic version?

—What did the comic-Foxes look like?

—What do you do when you’re not writing?

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thydungeongal · 3 months ago

Note

D&D 5e being poorly designed issue #499:

Flesh to Stone requires three failed constitution saves to actually petrify anything, and even then requires ten rounds of concentration to make it last longer than a minute. Constitution is the most common save to have a bonus in in this system, and since it is a sixth level spell, this bonus tends to be quite high. As a result, this spell pretty much never actually does what it is billed as doing.

If the target does make their saves, this effectively translates into 3-5 rounds of a single target being restrained, at the cost of a sixth level spell slot and concentration.

The web spell, meanwhile, creates an area of effect in which any creatures that fail their dexterity saves are restrained. Dexterity saves are pretty common, but they have to keep making them as long as they're in the webs, and it's a strength check (rather than a save, so usually a lower bonus!) to escape. The spell requires concentration, but the maximum duration is an hour.

That's right. Web is objectively and unambiguously better than Flesh to Stone, despite being four spell levels lower. This is because the people making 5e wanted to get rid of save-or-suck effects, but didn't want to get rid of the spell names, and so nerfed them all to the point of uselessness. There is no use case for Flesh to Stone that would not be better served by Web or some other, notably lower than sixth level spell. You could cast Web with that sixth level slot, and it'd be a waste of resources, but it would still be less of a waste than Flesh to Stone, because it lasts longer, is slightly harder to resist, and can affect more than just one creature.

This is your game design on nostalgia and self-reference.

Yeah there's a lot of weird and conflicting ideas going on with spells in D&D 5e because they really lacked a coherent set of design goals: the designers seemed to have lacked a clear consensus on whether they wanted the game to be a balanced (albeit tipped in the player characters' favor) tactical combat game like 4e or an old-school experience with lots of nasty save or die effects. Part of the issue is that at an early point in the design process they decided not to take 4e's lead on monsters effectively having their own unique spells and spell-like abilities, and instead decided that the same spell lists should be available to both monsters and player characters.

And as anyone who's played 3e will tell you, when spells are as readily available and effortless to use as in Hasbro D&D and both sides have save or death spells available, it leads to rocket tag. And rocket tag is really not conducive to a fun tactical combat game that is supposed to be slightly tipped in the player characters' favor.

(Rocket tag is also the name of the game at higher levels in TSR editions of D&D and I feel it does harmonize better with the sheer amount of "fuck you" design in those editions. I think the assumptions written into the rules that combat isn't supposed to be fair or fun affects that very much.)

Anyway, so it's not just pure nostalgia, it's a combination of nostalgia while at the same time trying to copy D&D 4e's homework but not understanding the assignment. The biggest issue with D&D 5e in the context of all the various editions of D&D is that it had the benefit of more than thirty years of design and still ended up without a clear set of design goals besides "let's make the game that's the most D&D!" Like, ultimately as a dungeon game it's fine, but given the context of what's come before it should've been great.

#thydungeongal answers

94 notes · View notes

wooziorgans · 10 months ago

Text

how to kill the sun || ljh

pairing: idol!jihoon x non idol!reader. gn!reader.

genre: nsfw! MDNI. fluff. friends to lovers.

description: jihoon comes home after work a little more drunk than he anticipated. he finds y/n on his couch waiting for his return, shining as bright as the sun in the dim lights of his living room.

warnings: fluff oh my god so many feeling. idiots in love with each other. mentions of alcohol consumption. jihoon with long hair omgomgomg. pet names (angle, baby, love, etc.).

word count: 9.5k

NSFW TAGS UNDER THE CUT.

nsfw warnings MDNI: p w a little plot. jihoon has such a big praise kink :(((. feelings during sex. penetrative sex. pussy drunk jihoon. aftercare. reader has female anatomy. soft sex. oral (both receiving). getting absolutely manhandled by this guys big ass arms. big dick jihoon amen. holding hands during sex seriously they’re so in love with each other. unprotected sex (don’t do this). hair pulling. a little choking. a hand job that lasts maybe two seconds. fingering. kind of?? possessive??? jihoon???. marriage??? kink??? implied??? idk what happened to me when I wrote this.

a/n: i tried to keep things as gn as possible but it was a little hard,,, n e ways. enjoy!!

jihoon <3 [17:24]

the guys want to get drinks after work. i tried to tell them we have plans but they won’t listen :(

just let yourself in. i’ll be home around 7:30?

i’m really sorry that i haven’t been able to see you lately. :((

This stream of text messages came almost two hours ago. The clock was ticking down to Jihoon’s arrival. Y/N sat comfortably on his couch, watching some shitty reality show they weren’t paying much attention to. A hoodie they stole from Jihoon’s closet enveloped them loosely. It was the only thing covering their torso. An equally loose pair of shorts sat around their thighs.

The soft click of the lock resonates through the apartment. Jihoon’s home. They shift back onto the couch, getting comfortable. Some shuffling is heard as Jihoon slips off his shoes and jacket.

He slides into the kitchen, glancing into the living room. The soft drone of the television brings his attention to the figure in front of the screen. Y/N sits back on the couch, the small throw blanket covering their legs. The ottoman is already pulled up to the couch, serving as a foot rest. It matches the L sectional couch. “Hoon? You home?” They call, hearing the shuffle of Jihoon’s feet.

He hums, setting his keys on the counter before he stumbles softly over his feet on his way to the couch. “Sorry. I drank a bit more than I wanted to.” Despite the obvious alcohol in his system, his speech is still coherent. He takes a seat on the couch right next to Y/N. They shift, moving closer to him.

Jihoon rests his head against their shoulder. “Missed you,” he breathes, resting an arm around their shoulder, “a lot. So much.” Moments like these were rare with Jihoon. Despite how he normally shied away from any form of affection, when he was drunk (which was a very new experience for everyone around him) he was incredibly clingy. Especially when it came to Y/N.

“God, you really are drunk.” Y/N laughs softly, running a careful hand through his hair. “Do you still want to watch a movie? Or do you want to sleep?” His eyes flutter shut carefully.

“Jus’ wanna be with you.” He tightens his arms around them, digging his face into their neck. Y/N pets his hair and he hums. His lips fall open against the skin of Y/N’s neck. “I love you.” He breathes. It feels like a confession.

Y/N swallows sharply. Though love was very present in their friendship with Jihoon, it was always easier done than said. He never said it, and now here he was, drunk and clinging to Y/N like his life depends on it. “I love you too.” Y/N swallows, adjusting their position on the couch. “Let’s go to sleep, okay?” Jihoon just nods with a soft groan.

He falls asleep slowly, resting more of his weight onto Y/N’s shoulder. His head falls onto their chest. Y/N slides down the back of the couch, laying down. They carefully support Jihoon’s neck, making sure not to move too fast in order to let him rest. His head rests on their chest. It feels a little crushing, for many reasons; but it’s comfortable. Maybe because it’s Jihoon. Y/N closes their eyes, fixing a hand in Jihoon’s hair. They fall asleep quickly in only the dim light of the television which screen is now black, and the piercing beam of the moon.

It’s the sunlight that wakes Jihoon up. A stray beam pushing through the blinds, hitting his eyes directly. He groans softly, shifting. It takes him a few seconds to realize he’s not in his bed, but instead on the couch, laying on top of Y/N. His face flushes softly at the realization but before he can pull himself away he feels them shift.

Jihoon cranes his head up to look at Y/N. The soft dust of orange light on their skin makes them glow. They look so beautiful like this, resting peacefully. A piece of hair falls in their face, and he carefully brushes it away from their face.

The hand resting on his neck moves up and tightens in his hair.

“Mm. Morning,” Y/N groans softly, running a gentle hand through his grown out hair. It’s soft, despite the product still in it from the day before. Jihoon freezes, all thoughts of moving away disappear. All he can feel is the heat of the morning sun and the warmth on his face and ears.

Their eyelashes flutter against their cheeks, and Jihoon stares with an apologetic expression, trying to pull himself away slowly. “Morning. D’you remember last night?” He asks, not totally thinking about what he’s saying.

“Yeah. Do you?” They tease, sleep still heavy in their voice. He hums. Y/N slides their hands over Jihoon’s back. “C’mere.” Y/N tugs at his shirt. He shifts over, laying more directly on Y/N. They open their eyes, looking down at him.

A tender hand slides further down his back, toying with the hem of his shirt which had been pulled up in his sleep. He freezes, a harsh chill running up his spine. The warmth on Y/N’s hands immediately spreads a wave of electricity through his body.

“Are you sure you’re not still drunk? You never let me cuddle you like this, Ji.” They laugh softly, carefully pushing their hand under the hem of his shirt. Jihoon lifts his neck, as if to say something. Instead, he closed his eyes and takes a deep breath. His chest tightens softly; his breathing gets a little more shallow.

The recollection of his drunk actions is enough to make him flush deeper. With a hand slowly sliding up his back, he loses all train of thought. He shivers again from the careful fingers grazing his skin. Y/N pulls their hand away carefully, afraid that they overstepped some kind of unspoken boundary. Jihoon’s head shoots up, suddenly insecure that his reaction made them uncomfortable.

Y/N lowers their hand back onto Jihoon’s skin. Another hot wave flashes through his body. His breath quickens even more. A soft gasp falls from his lips as Y/N curls their fingers, nails digging softly into the canyon of his spine, scratching his skin. He involuntarily arches up into their touch.

“You a little nervous baby?” Y/N laughs softly. “Don’t worry, Ji. I’ll take care of you.” They move their hands up, now resting them on his shoulder blades.

Jihoon’s breath gets shorter, his brain short circuiting. He bites his lip, suppressing a soft moan. Despite how intimate this was, he was getting into the rhythm; so much so that it was beginning to feel natural. He had never really expected something like this to happen, and he definitely never expected this from Y/N.

They gasp softly at the soft noise that doesn’t quite leave his lips. “You like that?” Y/N digs their nails into his skin a little harder.

As much as he did like the soft sting of their nails, he hated the way Y/N was able to see right through him. It was something unique to them. It was something none of his other friends has the ability to do. This was one of the reasons the two had formed an incredibly strong friendship extraordinarily fast.

God, he loved the way they were talking to him. Y/N knew just as much from the way he would look at them, somehow managing to avoid eye contact. Fuck, was he blushing? One hand slides out of his shirt, up to the back of his neck. It burrows itself into his hair again. He leans into the hand in his hair.

“Fuck, angel. Come here.” Y/N coos, pushing Jihoon’s legs open with theirs. Jihoon steadies himself with his arms, holding himself over Y/N as they hook their legs into his and pull their body down the cushions of the couch. Y/N exhales deeply once their face is in line with Jihoon’s.

Jihoon feels a weird pang of anxiety in his chest. His breath drops when Y/N’s lips get in line with his. He bites his lip once again, feeling his heart leap to his throat. Though there was no kiss, an unspoken promise hung in the air. It refracted through the sunlight, adding sparkles in its path. Or maybe it was dust.

“Do you want to kiss me Ji?” Y/N breathes against Jihoon’s lips. Moving the hand that was nestled in his hair, Y/N cups the side of his face, moving down to stroke the corner of his mouth with their thumb.

Their hands were so soft against his cheek. He swallows hard, silently hoping Y/N would just kiss him. His breath was short and his eyes didn’t have the courage to look at theirs.

“Answer me baby.” They coo, rubbing their thumb against the corner of his mouth. He parts his lips automatically. He nods suddenly, all of the touching catching up with him. They slide their finger over his bottom lip. “Use your words.” Y/N presses their finger into his lip. He swallows.

“I want to kiss you,” He breathes in a whisper. After everything, never did he quite expect to be saying these words this early in the morning. Especially not under the warm glow of the sun. He had hoped Y/N would kiss him after his drunken confession last night. Now, he was looking at their lips with his so, so close to theirs.

“How bad?” Y/N pushes their thumb against his lip, their finger softly grazes his teeth. Fuck, this was so intimate. Jihoon felt like he was going to lose it— something; anything. He needed anything more. All he could focus on was how soft their skin was and how warm their breath is against his lips. “How bad Jihoon?” They ask again, pushing their thumb between his teeth.

His arms shake, a little weaker at the action. A soft sigh falls from his lips, but it’s whiny. He tried to speak, but his throat felt so tight. He was panting; his breathing was almost erratic. He thought about how much he’s wanted to kiss them; how much he needs to. And then he’s saying it, the words falling out of his mouth so fast he doesn’t comprehend speaking them until seconds later.

“Shit. That’s my boy.” Y/N removed their thumb from his lip. It glistens in the sunlight. He whines softly, adjusting to align himself to a better angle with their lips. He finally lets himself make eye contact with Y/N. “There’s my pretty boy.” They smile at him, soft and fond.

He preens at the pet name, his whole body getting hotter. God, Jihoon had no idea his body could feel so on fire like this. He mustered up the courage to touch them. A tentative hand falls on the side of Y/N’s face. They close their eyes softly, leaning into his hand. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to see you like this.” Y/N huffs out, using their own hand to guide Jihoon’s thumb over their lips. His thumb rests on their bottom lip before he brushes it back, touching the side of their mouth which is now hung open in slight disbelief.

Y/N shudders out a breath as one leg wraps around Jihoon’s waist. “Think you can kiss me now?” Y/N asks, their breath hot on Jihoon’s lips. Their hands are back in his hair, digging into his scalp. Jihoon inhales sharply. Y/N’s hands felt like an invitation; one that Jihoon is more than eager to accept. He slowly tilts his head to the side, using his arm that was still bracing the couch to lower his body.

“You’re so pretty,” Y/N says, looking directly into his eyes, “have I ever told you that?” Jihoon immediately tucks his face into his shoulder, blushing deeply. Yes, you have called me pretty before. Jihoon thinks. Only when you’re drunk.

Y/N laughs softly. They use the hands in his hair to guide his head back to its previous position. The sound makes his heart batter against his ribcage. All he wants right now is Y/N. He’s never been so sure of anything.

“Wanna kiss you so bad, Ji.” Y/N whispers. Jihoon moans. The leg around his waist pulls him in tighter as Y/N’s hands drag his face closer by the neck. They gasp softly at the sound, back arching off the couch.

Jihoon can’t think right now. All of his senses are filled with Y/N. All he wanted right now was for their lips to come closer. The soft pang of hunger inside him was getting much stronger. He had been trying to keep himself in check, but Y/N’s words and touch were too much. They were driving him crazy. And then he decided he couldn’t wait anymore. He pulls himself closer to Y/N, head tilting slight. His lips hover over theirs and he’s so, so close. As much as he hated it, he pulled his body closer to theirs.

His lips brush against Y/N’s and he pulls his bottom lip in between his teeth. All of the blood in his body seemed to rush to his head, making his ears burn. Y/N stutters out a breath as they move their hands to cup his face. Finally, Jihoon lets himself give in. He tilts his head a little more, releasing his lip from his teeth and placing a soft kiss against Y/N’s lips.

His whole body burns, like he’s running a fever. He might as well be, with the way his whole body is on fire and his head is spinning so much. Y/N gasps softly and it’s just enough to put his brain into overdrive. The careful press of his lips starts to melt away as his jaw moves in sync with Y/N’s. His hand slides to their neck.

Y/N’s hands slide around his body, back to his shirt and up the bare skin of his neck. His nerves were too sensitive; the rake of their nails against his skin was too much. He’s genuinely starting to sweat, a pleasant wave of heat firing through his whole body. His lips faulter as he pushes a whine back down his throat. Jihoon can only imagine how much heat he’s radiating right now. Y/N pulls away slowly.

“You feeling a little warm?” Y/N’s lips glisten. He nods, despite suddenly feeling cold. Everything about them was getting him hot.

“Take this off then.” Y/N suggests, tugging at the bottom of his shirt, which had been pulled halfway up his back. The small action made him realize how much their hands had been on him. It fills his face with a heat that spreads through his body; one that ultimately settles back on his cheeks. He nods, using his core to hold himself over Y/N as he slips the lose shirt over his head. He throws it on the ottoman.

Y/N stares at his chest as he sits on their legs to discard the shirt. They run a hand over his chest, hooking their fingers in his necklace; they move even slower over his nipples. “This is what you’ve been hiding from me? God, you’re ripped.” They ask, hand settling on his hips with their thumbs resting on the edge of his abs. He laughs, embarrassed. His necklace refracts the sunlight.

He’s always worn a shirt when going to a pool or the beach with Y/N. He was always so respectful, choosing to wear a shirt when they were around. Now? Y/N’s kind of mad he’s been keeping this a secret for so long. From them specifically.

He sits upright on their legs for a few moments before he leans back over, using his arms to hold himself up. Y/N’s hands find their way to the sides of Jihoon’s face. The cool metal of his necklace brushes the material of Y/N’s— Jihoon’s— hoodie.

He closes his eyes letting Y/N feel him up. He gasps softly as one hand trails down the bare skin of his chest. A careful finger curls and Y/N runs their digit over the ridge of his abs. Their nail catches on the band of his black sweat pants before they move it back up to his chest. Their hand settles flat against his sternum.

Then it’s hooking softly in his necklace, pulling him back into a soft kiss. Jihoon can’t stop his hand from sliding under the hoodie that sits loosely on Y/N’s frame. It brushes their side, making them shiver into the kiss. He felt like he was melting, his own nails softly scratching down their side. Y/N gasps softly, biting Jihoon’s lip.

Their hands move on autopilot as one rests back on his neck and the other slides down his back, brushing the hem of his pants. Jihoon groans, pushing more of himself into the kiss that had unintentionally paused.

Jihoon carefully pushes his tongue past his lips. The muscle slides against Y/N’s lips, asking for permission. It’s granted as they part their lips. He slides his tongue in between their teeth, feeling the slide of their tongue against his. It’s so good. Y/N moans softly into his mouth and it sends his brain into overdrive.

He adds more force to the kiss, his hand sliding up their side under his hoodie. A small possessive streak burns through him and he feels like he might pass out. His hand caresses the skin of their stomach, feeling the inner lining of his hoodie. Oh, that’s all Y/N was wearing. Jihoon blushes hard at this; he spent the whole night laying on their chest with such a small barrier between their skin.

His eyes roll back into his head as he starts to grab at the skin, moving his hand up. His fingers dance across their ribs, before running over their chest. He settles his thumb against their nipple. The soft moan Y/N breathes into his mouth makes his hips involuntarily rut into nothing.

Y/N pushes a leg in between Jihoon’s, their hands fidgeting with the hem of his sweats. Jihoon grinds his hips again, this time against the thigh that’s now between his legs. He gasps, a small whine leaving his throat. Fuck, that was hot, Y/N thinks, hooking a finger under his waistband. “God. Please tell me you want this.” Jihoon whines. Y/N pauses, jaw hung open catching their breath.

“So bad Jihoon.” They gasp as Jihoon flicks his thumb against the soft skin of their nipple. “We have so much to talk about but right now, god, don’t stop touching me.” Jihoon leans down, placing a small kiss to their jaw. In leaning down, his crotch drags against their thigh. It’s the first bit of friction that registers in his brain. He moans, the sound muted against Y/N’s jaw. Shit, he’s so hard.

Y/N can feel the weight of his erection against their thigh and it makes their head spin. Jihoon places soft kisses along their jaw, sliding down their neck before he settles on a place to mark. Soft kisses litter the skin of Y/N’s neck.

And then he sucks on the sensitive skin, causing Y/N to arch their back off the couch. “Oh my god. Jihoon, please.” They pant, hands back in his hair as they tug at the strands near his scalp. He moans a little louder than he would have liked to. His hips drag across Y/N’s thigh again, harder. They move their hand back to his sweats, not quite being able to make up their mind.

As he licks a sucks at their neck, they pull the strings of his sweats undone. “Shit. Not here.” Jihoon suddenly pulls away. Y/N looks up at him through hooded eyes, confused. “Not on the couch, baby. Let me take you to my room at least.” He clarifies, panting.

The heat on his face spreads down his neck as he speaks. Y/N nods, wrapping their arms around his neck and their legs around his waist. If it wasn’t for the sheer amount of strength they knew Jihoon had, they would have worried about accidentally pinning him to the couch like this.

Instead, he wraps his arm around their back under the sweater. With a strained breath, he flexes the muscles of his stomach and gets on his knees. Y/N gasps, still gripping onto him, though they know he won’t drop them. He turns his body, adjusting his legs so he’s sitting on the couch in a normal position. He pushes the ottoman away from the couch with his legs, clearing a path to exit the living room.

Y/N pulls their head up, placing soft kisses to his neck. He shudders as he stands up, arms still around their back as one slides down to their ass. He places it carefully under their legs, to better support their weight. He walks rather quickly to his room, releasing the hand from under Y/N’s ass to twist the doorknob open.

His room is flooded with sunlight from the large window which blinds have been opened. He sits quickly on his bed. Y/N takes advantage of this to straddle his lap. They grab the sides of his face, kissing him back onto the bed. “Shit. Fuck, you’re so pretty.” They gasp against him, causing him to whine again. “You sound so pretty, Jihoon.” He has no time to reply before he’s being kissed again, but he moans into it. It’s enough of a reply.

Y/N starts rocking their hips against Jihoon. The heat between their legs sits right over where he wants it to. He moans, audibly this time, not trying to suppress it against their lips. Y/N kisses him harder, feeling his hidden cock drag against their core. Shit, he’s huge.

Jihoon slides his hands under the sweater again. The fabric moves with his hands. Y/N sits up, pulling the fabric over their head. Jihoon stares as what he has only ever dreamed of stares him right in the face. The smooth skin of Y/N’s chest and stomach glow, quite literally, in the sunlight. Their skin has a golden hue to it and it looks like it’s sparkling.

Jihoon feels like he’s staring straight into the sun. The sight is so blinding.

He can’t help the hand that reached out, pretty fingers dancing across the skin of their stomach. It makes Y/N shiver. They let him have his moment, the same they had theirs when he took his shirt off— what feels like hours ago now.

Jihoon’s cock twitches so hard at the way they seem to chase every single one of his delicate touches. Y/N feels it happen against them. “Holy shit, I’m in love with you.” Jihoon whispers, one hand travelling to grab Y/N’s. The way Y/N moans quietly as he says it sends heat through his entire body.

Y/N interlaces their fingers with his. Jihoon feels his breath catch in his throat; his chest starts fluttering. “Jihoon, baby, shit—“ Y/N grinds down against Jihoon’s cock, his grip on their hand tightens. They look down at him, making direct eye contact.

His long eyelashes flutter delicately against his cheek. The sunlight shines through his eyes, making the normally dark irises appear far more intricate with a new golden hue. “I love you; I’m so in love with you. Shit, can’t believe it’s taken me this long to admit it.”

Neither of them can believe Y/N’s words. Not with the way the two of them are touching each other. Not with the way they kiss like it’s all they have. Not with the way Y/N looks in the sunlight. Especially not with the way Jihoon looks in the morning sun; all golden and beautiful, as out of breath as he is lovely. He looks like the sun.

“You look like the sun, baby. Like you have the stars in your eyes,” Y/N speaks their thoughts so clearly it catches Jihoon off guard. He chuckles deeply; the vibrations shoot straight through Y/N.

“I do.” He huffs, “I’m looking at you.” Y/N hides their face in their neck. Jihoon sighs. “Look me angel. Keep looking at me.” When he talks to them like that, it’s impossible not to. “There’s my baby.” The pet names ignite something in Y/N.

A careful hand finds the strings of Jihoon’s sweat pants. His free hand rests on their hip. They play with the strings before eventually slipping a finger under the waist band. The waistband of Jihoon’s boxers slides past their finger. “Wanna feel you. Please,” Jihoon’s cock twitches as Y/N shifts back on his legs, sitting perfectly on his thighs. “Please let me touch you, Jihoon.” He moans.

The way Y/N says his name is legitimately like a drug; he wants them to say it like this everyday, every time. He’s nodding, removing his hand from their hip to lift his hips off his bed. He pushes a hand under the waist band. Y/N uses theirs to move the other side.

With minimal struggle, which is incredibly surprising considering how much neither of them wanted to let go of the other’s hand, his pants and boxers reach the middle of his thigh. It’s enough to allow him to shift the rest of the way out of black sweat pants and matching boxers. They're kicked off the bed. Y/N gasps as his cock slaps the base of his stomach.

Jihoon looks away, half from embarrassment, half the give himself a break from the way Y/N stares at him. “You’re huge.” Y/N breathes. They swallow audibly, a small gasp leaving their lips. You’ve also been hiding this from me? They want to ask. Instead, they wrap their hand carefully around the base of Jihoon’s dick. It’s so heavy.

He hisses, back arching off the bed. “Oh my god. Need you to touch me.” Jihoon gasps, his teeth catching his bottom lip in between them. His eyes close as he steadies himself. There’s a brief moment of nothing before he feels it. A bead of spit slides down the head of his cock.

He looks back to Y/N immediately, seeing the origin of the drop still stuck on their bottom lip. He moans. The drop falls down his shaft, meeting the tip of Y/N’s finger. They give a slow pump to his cock and he hisses again. His grip on their hand tightens, and Y/N squeezes back.

“Careful baby,” they coo, “it’s okay. You’re okay. Let me make you feel good.” All he can do is nod. He bites his lip a little harder, enough for it to start to sting as the next stroke moves back up, squeezing a little more as Y/N’s hands get closer to his tip. “It’s so pretty Jihoon. You’ve such a pretty cock, fuck.” They slur, giving an experimental swipe of their thumb to the head of his cock. Jihoon gasps. His free hand moves to his sheets as his fingers curl tightly into the fabric.

Y/N does it again, this time sliding their thumb over his slit. His eyes shoot open with a curse, “Angel, please.” He whines. Y/N spits again, this time audibly. It makes Jihoon’s eyes roll back softly. A much bigger drop of spit falls against the side of his cock.

It makes him shiver. Y/N moves their hand up and down at a much faster pace. Jihoon’s head falls back again. He whines, lip still tight between his teeth. He’s swears he’s going to draw blood if they keep this up.

Y/N begins shifting, getting on their knees to place one of their own between Jihoon’s legs, spreading him open. They slide back, leaning over the head of his cock. They place a soft kiss to Jihoon’s tip. “Holy fuck!” He gasps, hand finding its way to their neck. He pushes his hand up into their hair. A soft lick slides over his slit.

Y/N’s tongue is welcomed with a salty drop of pre-cum. They moan, latching their lips over the head of Jihoon’s cock. The stretch from just his tip is completely foreign. There’s no way this blow job is going to go well for Y/N; it seems to be going great for Jihoon. He’s just so thick.

Jihoon brushes Y/N’s hair out of their face as they suck carefully on his head. “Jus’ like that, angel. Fuck, just like that.” Jihoon moans as Y/N flicks their tongue on the underside of his head. They can taste the precum on their tongue. Jihoon’s hand tightens in their hair as they slowly take more of him into their mouth.

His thighs shake as half of his cock slips inside Y/N’s mouth. He feels his tip hit the back of their throat and then he’s gone.

He slips his hand out of Y/N’s, a soft pang in his chest as he does so. His now free hand finds its way to their hair. He digs his fingers into the stands; his hips bucking up involuntarily. He lets out a loud, low moan when he feels the muscles in their throat constrict, taking him down their throat.

“You’re so good at this, fuck.” He hisses, eyes rolling back as his hair falls in his face. “Thought about your mouth so much.” Another confession slips past his lips. This one makes Y/N hum around him.

He gasps as Y/N starts bobbing their head, hands wrapped around whatever they can’t fit. It’s a substantial amount left outside of their mouth— really, it’s quite impressive how well endowed Jihoon is and how he’s done such a good job to hide it.

Though, thinking back to all of their trips to the beach, his dick print always did look quite big against his wet swim trunks. It always pressed against Y/N’s ass when they sat between his legs. It was always there.

Y/N slides one hand down his thigh, making him shiver as their nails drag across the pale skin. He shivers again, whining. Jihoon feels so sensitive; and then the tight knot in his stomach that he’s all too familiar with makes itself known. Only it’s much tighter than it’s ever been.

He gasps, hands digging into Y/N’s hair before he’s pulling them off. A thin line of spit connects their lips to his cock, and he almost snaps right there. He pants wildly, not being able to speak for a few seconds before a shy: “Sorry. I almost came,” leaves his lips. His cheeks burn as he catches his breath.

Jihoon’s tip is red and angry, leaking so much precum it’s almost impressive. It is impressive when Jihoon shifts his legs to pull Y/N up from his cock. They tower over him, face inches away from his. He hooks his legs between theirs, flipping them over so Y/N’s back is now against the mattress and he’s the one leaning over them.

His hands quickly find the waistband of Y/N’s shorts and they lift their hips up in an instant. His fingers hook under the band pulling them down to reveal—

“Fuck. Are those my boxers?” Y/N nods shyly as his eyes zero in on the pair of boxers he had given them after getting caught in the rain months ago. Jihoon yanks the shorts down, boxers coming off as collateral. Y/N kicks them off. His hand rubs up and down the smooth skin of their thigh.

He leans down, kissing them softly. A lot of the heat of the previous kisses is lost in this one. It’s gentle; so sweet it drives both of them insane. Y/N whines into the kiss and Jihoon continues to caress the inside of their thigh. He gives a soft squeeze to the skin, kneading it in his fingers. “Wanna touch you. Can I, angel?” He hums, placing soft kisses down Y/N’s neck. They nod, a small moan leaving their lips in response to the way Jihoon is kissing the side of their jaw, mixed with the cool metal of his necklaces dragging down their skin.

Y/N expects a hand to reach out and find their folds; except that’s not at all what happens. Jihoon continues kissing down their neck, over their chest and then to their stomach. He bites the skin softly, a hand running up their side. Y/N shivers, every single nerve in their body feels molten under his touch.

Finally, he kisses down their sagittal, stopping right before he reaches their clit. He exhales softly, the gust of breath against their core. He takes a moment to properly look at the sight in front of him. His hand finds his cock as he strokes it languidly. He bends down, lowering his mouth to the already wet folds.

“Please let me eat you out,” He begs. Y/N whines at the sight of him in between their legs. “Please.” He whispers. The puff of air that land against Y/N’s wet core sends a shiver up their spine again. Their hands find his hair, brushing through it.

“Jihoon, I swear to god if you don’t eat me out, I might—“ Jihoon flattens his tongue against Y/N’s opening, licking a stripe up the folds. Y/N feels all of the air leave their lungs as a pathetic mewl slips past their lips. He then dips his tongue in between them, licking all the way up before briefly attaching to their clit. “Fuck—“ they gasp, fingers digging in his hair.

He goes back to licking their folds, alternating between laying his tongue flat against them and working in between them. An experimental brush is placed against their entrance. Y/N pushes their hips down onto Jihoon’s face and uses their hands to push his face deeper. Jihoon takes that as a green light and begins to fuck them on his tongue.

“Shit, Jihoon. Gonna cum like this—!” They gasp, thighs closing in on his head. Jihoon pries their legs back open with his forearms. He keeps them pinned to the bed. One of his thumb attaches to their clit, rubbing it in slow circles. Y/N’s hands tighten at Jihoon’s roots, before they tug at it softly. The sensation makes him moan with his tongue deep inside Y/N.

Jihoon slides his tongue out of them, quickly replacing it with the hand that was on Y/N’s clit. His mouth swap places, pressing a soft kiss against their swollen clit. They jump, feeling one of Jihoon’s fingers press against their entrance. He carefully dips it in, slowly taking Y/N’s clit into his mouth at the same pace. God, he had incredible rhythm. It was no wonder he was such a good musician.

His first finger slips inside, slowly dipping in and out of Y/N’s dripping hole. He detaches his lips from their clit briefly. “Prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen.” He plants a kiss right above their clit, before his tongue reaches out and almost pulls it inside his mouth. “God, angel. You’re so beautiful.”

“Another,” Y/N gasps, “give me another finger, please.” They cry, head thrown back with their hands all over Jihoon’s hair. He can’t stop himself when he digs his hips into the mattress. He whines against their clit as he fucks into the sheets on his bed.

He presses a second finger into Y/N, curling the up finally. His fingers are so long that they press right into the perfect spot, making Y/N’s legs shake softly. He begins to thrust them in and out, each stroke pressing against it. Their soft gasps fill the room as Jihoon works his fingers inside them.

Jihoon lets out his own gasps at the sounds Y/N makes. The fact that he’s moaning while eating them out makes Y/N tug on his hair hard.

Something unexpected happens. Jihoon moans loudly against their clit, his mouth hovering over the bud as he tried to process why the hell he liked that so much. In his small moment of clarity he realizes he’s not the one that needs to be pleasured right now.

He resumes the pace of his fingers, tongue flicking against Y/N’s clit as he moans around it. His hand works his cock as he humps the mattress, removing his arm from the hold on their thigh.

A hot, white flash of pleasure fills Y/N as Jihoon speeds up both his fingers and his mouth. “Oh my god, ‘m gonna cum,” they gasp, pulling his hair once again. “Jihoon, please—“ Jihoon doesn’t take to this lightly. He keeps pumping his fingers, making sure to brush Y/N’s g-spot each time.

His dark eyebrows furrow against his forehead. He’s so focused on getting Y/N there that he stops touching himself and zeros in completely on the task at hand. Y/N writhes on top of the bed, legs shaking as their back arches off the soft sheets.

Jihoon moans softly around their clit, nipping it with his teeth and that’s it. Y/N cums, thighs shaking as their whole body burns. It’s so intense; Jihoon feels it coat his fingers as he fucks them through their orgasm with his long digits.

Once the shaking stops, he dives back down; he spreads his fingers inside Y/N, placing his tongue in between them to lick up as much of their release as he can. Y/N grips his hair once again, pulling his head up once it starts to get too much.

Y/N is panting as they pull him up into a kiss, his lips shining with his spit and their release. They wrap their legs around his hips, pulling him closer. His cock slides over their ruined pussy, causing both of them to moan lowly. “Need you inside. Please.” Y/N begs, and it’s enough for Jihoon to wrap his hand around his cock as he shifts his hips back. He slides his head over Y/N’s clit, brushing it in between their folds. Both of them moan in unison at this.

Jihoon wraps his other arm under their back, lifting them up as he places their back against the pillows on his bed. The angle makes it easier to kiss Y/N, which he does as he lines himself up. It also makes his necklace brush against Y/N’s burning skin.

He carefully pushes his tip against Y/N’s entrance. It slides in with little resistance. Y/N whines and grabs the sheets as they feel him push his cock inside. With the tip inside, he stops. The stretch of his cock is almost too much as he splits them wide open. “‘S so big. Fuck, you’re so big.” Y/N cries, a small tear sliding down their cheek. Jihoon kisses them softly, using his hand to wipe the tears from their eyes with his thumb.

Jihoon knows he’s well endowed. Rushing this part was never an option for him, but if he isn’t cursing the way Y/N clenches around his tip, trying to suck him in. It makes it so hard to be patient. He pulls away from the kiss slowly. “Look,” he looks down to where their bodies are now connected. The sight of his cock carefully making its way inside is enough to make both of their eyes roll back onto their heads.

Jihoon places a careful hand on the back of Y/N’s neck, pulling them up enough to give them a clear view of the sight. Jihoon guides his cock still, pushing in again; this time much slower. Low moans leave both of them as he enters.

Once he’s half way in, Y/N feels it. His tip brushes their g-spot and they gasp harshly. They rock their hips down before they feel a strong hand on their thigh, stopping them. Jihoon runs a hand through their hair, cooing softly as he soothes them. “Careful angel. Don’t get too ahead of yourself.” He whispers, because he’s trying to not be a hypocrite. He desperately wants to slam into them.

The stretch is almost too much; it’s no longer uncomfortable, but it’s so much. He’s so big, filling every inch of them that he’s touching. “Please just get it over with. Please just put it in.” Y/N whines, arm wrapped around his neck as they watch the slow slide of his cock inside them. Jihoon nods, slowly pushing it in, now hands free. His unoccupied hand reaches for Y/N’s.

Their fingers intertwine as he finishes pushing the last bit inside. Y/N hisses softly. It’s so much, every new inch brushing their sensitive spot. He’s so deep. Jihoon kisses them softly as he starts to pull out. When he moves back in, both of them moan against each other’s lips.

Jihoon starts fucking into Y/N slowly, but it’s not enough for either of them. His pace picks up until the kiss dissolves when both of them start to pant, mouths hanging open. He’s everywhere. Every inch of his cock fills Y/N so full it makes their head dizzy.

All Y/N can think of is the thick drag of his cock inside their walls. They clench around him. Jihoon loses his pace for a second, before he’s skillfully angling his hips up, thrusting deeper.

The sting is nothing compared to the intense pressure that’s building back up inside Y/N. Jihoon must be able to feel it; his hips snap harder.

“Fuck,” he hisses, his hips moving steadily as he thrusts in and out. “You let other people fuck you?” He asks, his lips grazing Y/N’s even closer as they both catch their breaths. He looks at them expectantly, repeating his question. They nod, a silent yes in the air. “Yeah? Never again. No one else can fuck you like this ever again.” Y/N throws their head back, nails raking down Jihoon’s back. He hisses, moaning softly at the sting.

Fuck, with the way he’s moaning like this— with how he’s so vocal, soft gasps and moans constantly leaving his mouth— how could they ever let anyone else fuck them? If this is a one time thing, Y/N will gladly die a nun. “Yours, all yours. Jihoon-“ they hiccup, tears coming to their eyes. “Always been yours. It was always you, Jihoon.” They gasp, head falling back. A soft tear rolls down their face. Jihoon wipes it way with his unoccupied thumb.

“Don’t cry, angel. I’m right here. Your Jihoon’s here.” He holds Y/N’s face so carefully it makes their stomach turn. They pull his face down with the back of their arm, connecting their lips. Jihoon holds their face as he times his kisses with his thrusts. It drives Y/N insane. They dig their nails deeper into his back. He whines softly into the kiss. The soft hook of his nose rubs against their cheek.

“I love you. Fuck, I love you so much.” Jihoon pants; it’s like a mantra of everything he’s felt for Y/N over the past three years. It’s being said like it was a long time coming, which it has been. Y/N moans at his words, fist deep in his hair.

“I love you, Jihoon,” They gasp as he thrusts particularly deep inside them. “It’s you, always been you. Fuck, I’m so in love with you.” Jihoon moans deeply, his thrusts picking up speed at a brutal pace.

Y/N feels him everywhere. His hands are all over their body, rubbing over their chest; his breath is on their face with his cock deep inside them. Jihoon is so lost in the way Y/N grips him, pulling him back in. It’s so tight, it’s so much.

“Baby, fuck, baby— I’m gonna cum.” He gasps, soft whines and moans find their way into his words. “Where do I—”

“Inside, please,” Y/N pants, “need it inside.” They moan, gripping his hair harder, nails digging into his shoulder a little harder. Jihoon just nods, lips reconnecting with Y/N’s.

His hips speed up, getting more erratic with each thrust. He’s slamming into them, cock hitting far too deep for it to be comfortable, but neither of them are worried about it. All Y/N can focus on is the drag of his cock against every inch of them, hitting their g-spot perfectly every single time. The moans filling the room from both of them are so sweet and full of the most intense pleasures either has ever felt.

Jihoon’s hips stutter once, then twice more and he stops, all the way in Y/N as hot strings of cum spill out of his cock. He lets out a high-pitched moan; it’s so high it doesn’t even sound like him but it’s so pretty. This, mixed with the way that he’s so deep, has Y/N coming undone once again. Their whole body shakes a they release around him again. The sudden tightness around Jihoon’s aching cock doesn’t help how much he comes.

There’s so much of it, and it’s so intense. Jihoon has never cum so hard in his life. He almost blacks out. Y/N clenches tighter as their orgasm washes over them in a heat wave of their own, arguably, more intense feeling of pleasure.

And then it happens. All at once, Jihoon feels his lower stomach get soaked. Despite how sensitive he is, he moves his hips to fuck Y/N through it. He only rocks in deeper and it makes Y/N’s eyes roll back in their head, vision blacking out a their mind goes completely blank. “Angel— angel, fuck. I’m here. I’m right here.” Jihoon’s hands move to the side of Y/N’s face, stroking their cheeks gently to ground them back into the moment. Jihoon wipes away small tears that fall down Y/N’s cheeks from the intensity of their orgasm. Their arms wrap around Jihoon’s neck, pulling him on top of them.

Jihoon releases the weight on his elbows, lying flat against Y/N’s chest. The extra weight on their body might help. He keeps rubbing his thumbs across their cheeks, waiting for the world to come back to Y/N.

When they finally move, Jihoon presses a soft kiss to their cheek. He smiles softly as their eyes flutter open, wet eyelashes sticking together. “Hi angel,” he coos, voice reverberating through his chest against Y/N’s. “Fuck, that was so… I hope it wasn’t too much.” He laughs softly, placing another soft kiss onto their lips.

Y/N exhales deeply, hands finding Jihoon’s hair once again. “It was so much but, god, I wouldn’t have it any other way.” They hold Jihoon close, not quite ready to deal with the aftermath of the situation. “We have so much to talk about.” They deadpan. It makes Jihoon swallow nervously before he realizes they’re smiling.

Carefully, he starts pulling out as he softens. Both of them are so sensitive; gasping and whining as Jihoon takes eons to finally pull all the way out. A noticeable wet spot is under Y/N, coating Jihoon as well. He’d normally bitch about it, but he just smiles. He pulls away from them carefully, watching as his cum slips out of Y/N. There’s so much of it and he has the urge to push it back in but it would be too much for both of them right now.

“I’ll be right back, baby. Gotta clean you up.” He carefully climbs off the bed, his legs shaking as he takes a wobbly step on the ground. One foot after the other, he walks to the bathroom.

Y/N lays on his bed panting, legs still spread wide as Jihoon’s cum slowly leaks out of them. Their hands find their chest, resting flat against the skin; right over their heart, which is beating wildly in their chest.

Jihoon returns a few minutes later to his bedroom, already cleaned up, to find Y/N laying with their eyes closed. If it wasn’t for the soft rise and fall of their chest, he would have thought they died. He places the glass of water on his night stand before he falls back between their legs. He pushes them open, slowly moving the warm washcloth over their folds.

Y/N doesn’t move, except for their eyes which open slowly. Jihoon wipes carefully, lifting their hips up slowly to clean up all of their— and his— releases. He shifts their hips over to avoid setting them back down in the, much bigger than he initially thought, wet spot on his bed. He leans over them to retrieve the glass of water. “Drink up, angel.” He grasps the straw with his index finger against the rim of the glass, pressing it to their lips.

Y/N takes a slow drink, cheeks hollowing around the straw. They look up at Jihoon, who is now leaning on his side, as he watches them take a drink. His hair is undeniably a mess, his face and parts of his chest still flushed. He looks so beautiful, eyes drooping from exhaustion in the glow of the morning sun.

Once the straw is moved away from their lips Y/N speaks. “You really do look like the sun.” A soft, tired smile falls across their face.

“You’re going to kill me, angel. Seriously. I think you already did.” He laughs, head thrown back with the softest of smiles on his face.

It’s a new experience for both of them; sex, aftercare, being so domestic like this. It’s still so comfortable, like life with Jihoon has always been. “It’s called a white death for a reason.” Y/N quips and it makes Jihoon laugh harder. He leans over them to place a soft kiss to their lips. Y/N’s hand finds the side of his face.

There’s no heat in this kiss, all of their energy was already expelled in an endothermic reaction between them. It’s so tender, as though everything either of them want to say at the moment is held within it. Jihoon pulls away first, head resting against Y/N’s shoulder. “I really do love you,” He breathes against their cooling skin, “‘m sorry I told you for the first time during sex.” While they can’t see it, Y/N knows his face is red once again. The tips of his ears heating up is a dead giveaway.

“I love you too.” Y/N breathes, hand resting carefully on his head. It’s a little harder to speak these words now, but they’re still incredibly easy. It’s almost a second nature, most likely because it’s Jihoon. “We should probably talk about this.”

They do. They shower separately, Jihoon sneaking back into the bathroom to press a soft kiss to the back of their neck as they dry off, arms wrapping around their waist with the pretence of just wanting to be near you. In the comfort of Jihoon’s couch, which is now forever imprinted with the image of him lying on top of Y/N as they exchanged first kisses. The skin of back feels sensitive again the thin fabric of his t-shirt.

They talk about it in Jihoon’s apartment, which he realizes has Y/N everywhere within it. They talk about when both of them realized this friendship became a little less platonic— two years ago on the camping trip after Soonyoung ate shit wakeboarding and you laughed so hard you thought you were going to throw up, mixed with when you hugged me for the first time after you had a rough shift at work and just wanted to be held.

About when they realized it was love— when you fell asleep on my shoulder halfway through a horror movie, and last year when you called me crying and I realized I never wanted to see you that hurt ever again.

About what it means for both of their futures; a collective agreement of a relationship. Another collective agreement of slowing down, a limit of kisses only until things naturally go elsewhere.

They talked over a warm cup of coffee, the soft sunlight losing its golden hue as morning turned into noon. Jihoon wraps his arm around their shoulder, placing a soft kiss against their damp hair. “Seal it with a kiss?” He suggests, now that they were both on the same page.

Y/N cranes their head up, more than willing to accept his proposal. Jihoon leans down, soft lips meeting him in the middle. He smiles. As bright as the sun, Y/N thinks.

Yeah. He’s a star.

And when Y/N leaves the practice room a week later, pressing a soft kiss against Jihoon’s lips, he feels warm. Save for the shocked gasps from the members, especially Seungkwan and his following declaration of: “You all owe me so much fucking money.”

Jihoon’s anger towards the fact that his band mates were placing bets on when he would get into a relationship with Y/N was nothing compared to the supernova bubbling up in his chest. It was nothing compared to the cataclysm of love he felt throughout his whole body.

So. How exactly do you kill the sun?

With soft lips and tender kisses. With small, shared, knowing glances at each other while your hands rest on each others legs in the booth of a restaurant surrounded by others.

Over a pot of shared ramen, arms around each other as they laugh at shitty comedies on Jihoon’s big couch. With hushed whispers under his sheets, hands grabbing onto anything they can reach.

By the fireplace in his childhood home, curled up under a blanket as his mom embarrasses him with childhood tales. On the beach, as he rubs sunscreen over Y/N’s back, sunglasses placed over his eyes and his hair tied back to keep it out of his face. Under Seungcheol’s knowing eyes when he officially tells everyone that, “Yes, we’re together.” They’ll have to talk about it later.

Backstage, after Jihoon won best producer for nth time and Y/N can’t quite keep the smile off their face, or hide the tears forming at their waterline. Hugging him after a long day, just for the purpose of being near him. Through tears on the worst days and a shower of kisses on the best days.

On one knee with a small black box, at an ungodly hour of the night when a late night walk on the bridge gave him the confidence he needed to finally pop the question after he accidentally told Y/N he was going to marry you one day during some sweet love making that took place the night before.

With tears in his eyes as he watches the rest of his life begin.

With Y/N.

a/n: aaaaand that’s a wrap!!!! this is my first full fic that i’ve posted here wowie. i might possibly make a sfw part two of their relationship bcs i am so obsessed w how jihoons so clingy n in love oh my god. maybe a prequel?? of all the little moments i mentioned. lmk !!

reblogs n comments r much appreciated!!!

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