#he had a rough day alr

[kiupido]

the best medicine

[mingi-s-dimples]

Crave me - yunho

pairing: bf!yunho x gf fem!reader

rating: 18+, bdsm

genre: romance, bdsm, filthy smut (mdni ty)

summary: The bratty attitude you had with him didn't last long.. as he leaves his patience at the table and destroys you.

WC: 3.5k

warnings: rough/strict dom!yunho, bratty sub fem!reader, bdsm, choking, neck kink, sucking, blowjob, making out, tying up, pet names (darling, babe, love, pretty boy, sweetie, sweetheart), degradation kink (slut, cumslut, whore), praise kink, slapping/spanking, both vaginal and anal, use of bdsm attire (cuffs, blindfold, rope), use of toys (vibrator), sense deprivation (blindfold), little bit of hand kink, punishing, edging, creampie, ruined orgasms, multiple rounds, deals (but Yunho feels cocky and he said fuck the deal), cum cum cum a lot of cummm, squirting, mentions of safe word but never used (reader is a brat), cum eating, big dick!yunho, overstim, backshots, unprotected (REMEMBER TO WRAP UP IRL !), completely consesual !, for sure forgot something.

Author's Note: SO ! When I first started writing this fic, several day ago, I didn't intend to make it this.. filthy. But.. my lovely bestie rated the roughness in the other 3 fics I have posted an average of 8.sth/10 and I took that as a CHALLENGE. Hope you like it, Lis, love you sweetie. Another small note: WHY AREN'T THERE MORE BDSM FICS OUT THERE HELLO? I'M A SUCKER FOR THEM !

Update, Lis: okay, even though i saw some paragraphs before this was published, i was still taken off guard by this. i’m taking back my words, roughness level 10/10, WHEN I TELL YOU I HAD TO TAKE A BREAK AND BREATHE. seriously i love this fic sm and bia you are so talented, you never fail to amaze me❤️❤️ please keep going with your work, i love youu<3 ( i’m still waiting for a demon joong fic 👹👹👹 ) - my answer: the demon joong fic is alr in my drafts, halfway done.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction & does not represent in any way the reality of the member.

The grand dining hall was a symphony of opulence and elegance, its high vaulted ceilings adorned with intricate plasterwork and crystal chandeliers casting a warm, golden glow over the scene. Rich tapestries hung from the walls, their deep hues of burgundy and gold complementing the polished mahogany of the round, small dining tables. As the guests settled into their seats, the gentle strains of a string quartet drifted through the air, mingling with the soft clinking of fine glasses and the murmur of animated conversation.

At one end of the table you were sitting at, the host, Park Seonghwa raised his glass in a toast, his voice resonant and filled with the gravitas of tradition. Across from him, Hongjoong's laughter rang out, light and melodious, adding a delicate counterpoint to the music. The aroma of roasted meats and rich sauces wafted from the platters being served, each dish a masterpiece of culinary art. Conversations flowed like the wine, moving from the latest societal gossip to philosophical musings, as the guests, dressed in their finest evening attire, engaged in a dance of words and wit.

In this setting, every detail was meticulously curated to create an atmosphere of refined luxury and cultural sophistication. Yet, beneath the surface of this carefully constructed elegance, the undercurrents of intrigue and hidden agendas were beginning to stir, promising that the evening's conviviality was only the prelude to a much deeper story.

You, a renowed and well known supermodel, were sitting right next to your husband, Jeong Yunho. He was the CEO of the agency you were modelling at.

The thing is... besides the lovey-dovey side you and Yunho always showed to the other guests and your friends, for example Seonghwa, Hongjoong and the others, the two of you had... another side to your relationship.

Your intimate relationship dynamic was quite.. the opposite of what you were showing. From light forehead kisses, hand holding and warm hugs and kisses... to cuffs, blindfolds and degradation. No one knew the real you when in private, and it made the whole thing way better.

*several minutes later*

"Ooookay, should I ask the chef to bring us some desserts? I think the dinner went really well!" Hongjoong said smiling, watching each of his guests contently. He then hovered his eyes over the whole venue, you could see the happiness flooding over him. It was the ending dinner for a really important business plan that came to a final success.

While the others were happily celebrating with the host, you and Yunho were giving each other some stares. One of the things you loved the most to do was to annoy your man. Why? Cause you knew he'd destroy you the same night. You were never allowed to do things on your own, without his permission. Things such as touching him in public, deny his own touching, dress how you'd like without his approval, because he was really jealous of needy and hungry eyes that always wanted you. Everyone had envy for him, because you were the most beautiful model in your country, the agency itself was the best one, too. But tonight.. you decided to do.. everything that annoyed him and drove him insane. You first started with a.. really nice outfit, you'd say. It was halfway see-through, high heels and silver, bold jewelry completing the look. You were wearing two pieces, a short but flowy black skirt and a white, almost translucent shirt, an elegant one. Your hair was straightened, flowing beautifully on your bare back, as the shirt you were wearing only covered your chest. A silver chain was connecting two pieces of fabric on your back, making you flinch with every slight touch, because of the sheer coldness.

"Darling.. did I ever approve of... this outfit?" Yunho whispered, one of his hands going on your thigh. You tried to deny his touch, moving his hand away, but he only dug his nails deeper into your leg. You flinched, looking at him in the eyes, with an almost innocent look.

"Oh babe... don't you like it? Damn.. I thought it looked really nice" you said sheepishly, smiling at him.

"I didn't say I don't like it but... didn't we agree that these types of visible outfits are... only for me to see, hm?" he whispered and approached your neck with his lips, slightly biting it.

"Babe.. there's people around us. What would they think of you, seeing you kissing me like that?" you said, trying to get a reaction out of him but to your surprise, he remained calm and content, biting you harder.

"Do I look like I give a fuck? You did it to yourself, love. This is the first strike of tonight.. be careful for the rest of the time. I don't feel like destroying your beautiful body when we get back in the room." Yunho said, going in for a soft kiss on your lips.

"We'll see about that, babe." you said and got up from your seat, searching with your eyes the champagne bar.

Someone came behind your back. Of course, it was Yunho, all touchy on your bare waist, as the shirt you were wearing was pretty.. short.

"Babe.. I almost forgot" he mumbled.

"What did I tell you about denying my hand, hm?" his hands hovering your back, one of them on your ass and one on the nape of your neck, slightly squeezing it. "Hm? what did I tell you, mind sharing me your reason?"

"You told me that I should... never move your hand away from myself.." you said turning around to face him. "But... what's entirely wrong with it.. pretty boy? Don't you like it when I tease you..?" you said and gave him a kiss, your hands traveling from his neck to his collarbones, then from his chest to his belt, tugging at it for a second.

"This is.." he whispered. "Strike two.. my love." One more and we're out of here.. remember the rule?" he squeezed your ass, looking right into your eyes, seeing how eager you were to fuck him right there.

Several minutes pass and you were back to your table, sitting next to each other. He effortlessly pulled your seat closer to his, making you gulp at his power and speed. Looking him in the eyes you started being all touchy with him. Started from his hands, feeling up his slender and long fingers, then to his biceps. You stayed like that for a long minute, with your head resting on his shoulder, then one of your hands went straight for his crotch, no warning.

"Yunho, everything good? Why did you flinch, is it too cold here?" Seonghwa asked, confused.

"Ah yes, everything is fine, don't worry about it" he said smiling, squeezing your thigh, his hand going to your pussy, rubbing circles through your panties from under your skirt.

 "Babe... that's strike three, if you ask me." he said and patted you on your thigh, to make you look at him. He then looked around for the exit doors and excused himself, taking your hand into his.

"Joong, we'll be back, I need to take care of something at the agency" Yunho said and then dragged you out.

And as the two of you got out the doors, there was a long empty hall, no one was there. He slammed you to the wall, one of his hands on your throat and one lifting you up. He was going towards the elevator.

"Nh- babe, where are we going? you said through the kisses.

"Just upstairs, I reserved a room for us right here. I didn't think we'd need it but... you wanted to be a little slut so it serves us good. Aren't you my little whore, hm? All down for me, I saw you eye fucking me when you were getting champagne. You wanted me to fuck you dumb tonight, mm? he said while going in the elevator.

"What did you want me to do babe, hm? Did you miss my slaps and my cuffs? You little slut, you'll see what will happen if you're being a brat with me again" and right as he said this, he held you close as he opened the door with the keycard. He closed it and he dropped you on your bed.

Some meters from the king sized bed there was a small bag, and you knew so well what there was... cuffs, blindfolds, ropes.. everything you could think of as a sub. And yes.. the relationship between you and your husband, in private, was a dom/sub one. You found out that you were both into bdsm a while ago, when Yunho didn't resist anymore and tried something new on you. You loved it and... it became a really often practice.

"Love, spread out, now." he said as he went back to get something from the bag.

You were still dressed and he was too. But you could feel yourself leaking right on the bed. You knew you left a wet spot on the dark sheets, something that turned your man on even more.

"Told you to spread the fuck out, you brat. When did you get so naughty, hm? Want me to put you in your place? he said as he spread your legs out, tying them to the bed frame. You still had your clothes on, but the skirt was lifted up and the blouse was all messed up. He ripped of your panties and threw them on the floor.

You tried to say something but didn't have time to react. He went back to the bag and took out some cuffs, then got on the bed, his crotch, still dressed, rubbing on your folds. You could feel his bulge getting bigger, his pants getting thighter as he went further to tie your hands to the headboard.

"For all of what you did tonight.. babe, you'll get punished, you know that, right? he said as he hovered his hand over your throat and collarbones. "Stay still, I'll tie a sheer blindfold to your eyes. I want you to still be able to distinguish how I destroy your little and pretty pussy." 

"Yuyu.. please. Fuck me." you pleaded, trying to look him in the eyes. Whenever he tied a blindfold on your eyes.. it turned you on so bad. You couldn't properly see what was happening nor what he was doing, preparing what to do to you.. but it was thrilling.

"Hmm... what should I start with.. pretty slut, mm? Should I just edge you until you can't take it anymore and cum out of overstimulation and exhaustion, should I make you cry and not let you cum the whole night? Should I.... fuck you and deny your orgasm how you denied my hand? Tell me, sweetheart. I need words, not muffled sounds." he confidently said, giving you a smirk and his right hand going right to your blouse, easily unbuttoning it and throwing it away on the floor.

He hastly gets rid of your bra, his groping entirely unhelpful. Large hands, slender fingers roaming your body, sliding over your nipples, pressing and nibbling at them, cupping your breasts and hoisting your legs up and around his waist. Him, still clothed, you.. only with your skirt on, if that's even important.

"Fuck, Yuyu —" you gasp when he sucks a dark bruise into the skin of your neck, while one of his hands went to his shirt. He slowly unbuttoned it, then went for his pants. He undid them halfway and pushed towards you, getting a soft moan out of your slowly rising chest, heavy breathing from all the manhandling he did on you. He was taking his time. He absolutely loved seeing you begging for his cock, squirming and moving against his crotch in wish of friction. But.. Yunho left all his patience at the door.

"Babe, how did you get me this mad, hm? Did you even think about the consequences, you little slut? If that's what you wanted.. I'll destroy you, sweetheart."

Two of his fingers trace your hole before sinking into you, curling to find the right spot. All you can do is arch your back, your moans and cries soon muffled by one of his hands, as he chokes you.

"Is this what you wanted? rile me up so I'd fuck you hard tonight? all you needed to do is ask, sweetie." Yunho said, curling his fingers right into your sweet spot, receiving some loud moans from you.

You could ask and he'd give you the moon if he could. But he was a completely different person in bed. There's something about him taking you like this, almost feral, that makes your toes curl.. could it be his fingers and how he curls them in you so good that he makes you shiver and cum, maybe squirt all over the place? would it be... his cock and how deep you feel it in you, scared that he might destroy your insides?

He fucks his fingers into you sloppily, scissoring you open with little to no care if it hurts or not. It was clear that he only had one goal in sight, and that being stretching you out just enough to be able to take his cock.

It only takes a few more strokes before he's satisfied, the blunt head of his dick prodding at your entrance, getting loud whimpers from you.

"Use the safe word if it's too much" he said and started pounding into you, making your hands rocket to the headboard, holding on for dear life. It's the only warning he gives you but.. it's enough to get an understanding on how pissed he was. He was holding so thight onto your thighs, them around his waist, that you knew you'd have bruises the next day.

"So fucking tiny" he grunts as he watches you struggle to adjust to his size "Such a whore for my cock, mhm? You take it so well... even if it destroys you. Be my cumslut, won't you? I'll edge you until you can't take it anymore."

"Y-yunho !" you shouted as he used a vibrator on your clit, arching your back at the sensation. The puffed bud he was stimulating made you feel like you'd already come, but something else happend. Your walls clenched on his cock, receiving a low grunt and as he slowed down his thrusts, he watched you contently at how you squirted all over him and the bed.

"Oh wow, already? Lucky this is the only thing I'm letting you do, you little slut" he said as he thrusted even deeper, harder, sloppier into you.

"Babe, n-no don't do th-that I might c-cum" you said as he was giving you another round of circles on your clit, feeling how overstimulated you were.

"Nope, I won't let you" he said as he stopped, pulling out of you, your hole clenching on nothing.

He started rubbing his length lazily, looking at you squirming right in front of him. You wanted to be fucked dumb, until you couldn't walk anymore. But that wasn't his plan for tonight.

"Let's make a deal. If you make me cum only with your mouth, no hands and no sucking. Just touching, licking and nibbling, I'll let you cum. Otherwise, you'll get slapped and fucked... not in your little aching pussy, but deep down in your cute and red ass, until you cry. What do you say, babe, a pretty good deal, I'd say?" he said as he uncuffed your hands, lifting you on your knees.

The thing is... you weren't quite.. on your knees. You were spread out, your aching hole rubbing on the wet and sloppy linen underneath you. You started humping it slowly, not knowing if you were allowed to, but he somehow didn't mind it. He knew you weren't able to cum only from humping on a cloth so he let you do your thing.

"Now.. be my little cumslut and get on licking." he said guiding your head to his dick, throbbing on your lips. You had your hands cuffed at your back, not being able to move them. You started kissing, nibling at the tip, getting some nice groans out of him. Then you started licking the slit, putting pressure with your tongue and licking his length all down to the base of it. The circles you always make on the tip get him from being silent to being louder, as the sloppy sounds of your tongue turns him on more.

"Yes, just like that, sweetie. A liiiittle bit more and you're getting me closer."

You started nibbling, almost like sucking on his tip.

"Yuh, mhm. Go on, make me cum, you little whore" he said as his breath started getting faster, heavier, your licks getting sloppier as he tried so hard not to cum but... you did the deal. He came all over your face, as you were not allowed to suck it.

"Good girl, such a good girl you are" he said as he wiped off his load from your face with one hand and with the other one opening your mouth, his thumb on your bottom lip. He let his cum drip onto your tongue, signaling you by raising his brows to swallow. You did as he wanted, soon sucking his fingers to get every drop of his load.

"Y'know babe.. I kinda changed my mind in between your little nibbles." he said as he turned you over, on your belly, one of his hands on the back of your throat. "You're gonna take me so well, I will make sure of it." he said as two of his fingers went in your other hole, no warnings. You moaned at the feeling of his fingers curling up inside you. The same as before, his goal was to make your hole be able to engulf his length, but this time his goal was to bottom down entirely.

"Thought you could just leave me like that?" he wraps a hand around your waist, the other one on your neck, "leave me high and dry without any repercussions? You're lucky I'll keep my promise and let you cum so... cum, you little slut." as he started pounding heavily and deeply into you.

The hand he had on your waist goes to your pussy, curling them inside you and rubbing your clit.

You shake your head at his words, the coil in your tummy tightening with every word he hisses into your ear, wetness dripping down his balls and coating them as he pounds into your ass.

Yunho could feel you clenching around his cock, knows you're close by the familiar rhythm and your muffled whines rising in pitch. He removes his thight hold on your neck, letting you turn your head around, gasping for air.

"'m so close, fuck, yunho, gonna cum —"

Your entire body tenses then slumps down against the mattress, only held up by his strong arm around your waist. Yunho fucks you through your orgasm, through the oversensitivity and the chants of your little whimpers and words.

"too much, 's too much, please, s-stop" but you never use your safe word. You whine and you cry until your limp body is pushed over the edge again, eyes rolling back while you cream his cock, the 2nd time in a short time.

"c-can't," you whimper weakly, "please cum, please — Yunho, please-"

You're begging him so sweetly, voice cracking and body at his mercy. Yunho's hips stutter and his load spills deep inside of you. Your knees buckle under his waist and you whine when the two of you stumble back, his arms wrapped around your chest, all touchy on your breasts.

"You're gonna take my cum all, you little whore. Remember what I said, being my cumslut? Now, take it" he said as he continued pounding into you, getting you over the edge. He didn't lie when he said he'd destroy you, your knees trembling as he closed the gap between the two of you. He then pulled out, pumping his length and his other hand going to your clit over your thigh, sending you shivers down your spine as you squirt once again for the night, now your body being only handled by the hand he used on you.

"What a good whore I have, mm" he mumbled as he came on your back, slowing down his pumps as he slowly puts you down on the mattress.

"See babe? What happens if you're a fucking brat?" he said as he undid the blindfold, looking at your teary eyes.

"What, by the look you have, you want more, you little slut? Is that right?" he said as he slapped your ass.

"Don't worry, I wasn't even close to being done tonight, turn around, I want you to see me fucking you this time."

[jiminrings]

fail-safe (3)

pairing: yoongi x reader

wordcount: 14k

glimpse: you hear everything you've ever wanted, but you don't know if it's too late.

alternatively, yoongi is consumingly yours all the time.

[ part one, intermission, part two, intermission 02, finale ]

[ still angst (but u can breathe now bc it’s the finale), brother’s best friend AND single dad au, jealousy, yearning from all angles, did i say angst alr (mom-wise and brother-wise), fluff, redemption ]

notes: this is it for the chronological series of fail-safe :-) from the bottom of my heart thank you so sooooo much for reading n loving!!! sharing fs with the lot of u is an experience (and era) i'll never forget!!!

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!! | series masterlist

Your trip back home isn’t as rough as you expected it to be. 

Somehow, there’s a huge difference between coming home alone and coming home with Jungkook. There’s an irreplaceable weight in your chest that still flares even at the mention of Yoongi, the anger you have towards him mixing with the trepidation of holding everything in you, not just him, for another three days. There’s an angry rash around your fingertips just waiting for you to pick on your nails until they’re raw because atleast in that way, you get to forget the way Yoongi’s hand picked up yours in the dark.

There’s an ache in you that not even Yoongi and Hyewon could undo by never having met in the first place. It’s long been there, perhaps even older than Haneul. The ache of unfulfillment in you is bred by everything significant in your life — all from your first argument with your mom because of your lack of direction in life, to your latest heartbreak that keeps manifesting into your first ever.

You're no longer angry recounting the fact that you weren't destined for greatness. Namjoon turned out beyond great, world-renowned even, despite living in the same home that you did. Maybe it's not your environment or your lack of a passion that hindered you — maybe, it's just you alone.

Maybe, some part of you had ached too much from reaching (read: loving) too far up, you're doomed to live the rest of your life unfulfilled. Yoongi's never been yours, but the way your heart withdraws from him is as if he's always been.

You've done your share. You've completed your fill. You've worked yourself to the bone to make anything (not something, and certainly not everything) out of yourself that even if you're not decorated in sports like Namjoon nor celebrated in music like Yoongi, you have a fail-safe to fall back on.

You're earning more than the white collars you could recognize from your old yearbook and even if it's to look after someone, to look after Jungkook and his craft, and neither use your actual degree nor make a name out of yourself — a part of you feels fulfilled.

If being fulfilled meant being in the shadows as a manager; if it meant caring for someone in a professional context yet in a way you've always known with practice, with love, through the years– you'll take it.

You'll take the peace of being fulfilled without a trophy than to be listless trying to compete for first place.

You're fulfilled now to be sitting at the passenger seat of your own car because despite having never been to your place anymore, Jungkook fought with you in order to get his hands on the wheel.

You're fulfilled now, even if you only took Jungkook's silly suggestion (read: insistence) of fake-dating him just so you wouldn't have to face your family and Yoongi alone. You're fulfilled despite having no real place in neither men's lives.

Oddly enough, Jungkook wants to be both. He wants to be fulfilled and compete for first  place in a position in your life that he can't even say to your face.

Jungkook holds you right in the middle of the living room, his eyes wide and grin sparkling as if the director had already said action! and the task for him was to act out what being in love looked like, right in front of his female lead's family in her childhood home. (Read: he isn't acting at all.)

“And he’s…?” your mom lets the question hang in the air, eyes trailing from Jungkook’s face, to his bicep, to how his forearm fits snugly against your back and his hand curls around your waist. Your mom visibly looks surprised, although you don’t know if it’s about the fact that you actually came back despite everything, or if it’s because her favorite actor is in her kitchen while she’s sweaty in an apron, or if it’s because said favorite actor leaves no space between the two of you.

“Jeon Jungkook, ma’am. It’s nice to finally meet you,” he greets politely, a little jittery now that he’s face-to-face with her. He’s only heard of the woman she is from you and as much as he tried to picture her from memory, your stories don’t do her much justice. Jungkook’s always loved your kind eyes and your sweet smile, but he knows now where you’ve got it from; in fact, if he turns around right now right after shaking her hand and bowing profusely, you’re showing exactly those to him — that, along with a pair of gazes he can’t place.

Those gazes aren’t kind at all. One is confused and dumbfounded, and the other harbors nothing but hostility and anger.

“Sweetheart, I know you. Who doesn’t?” your mom’s at a loss for breath, mouth still agape as she keeps flickering her eyes between the two of you. She knows that you’re his manager, but what she doesn’t know is why the Jeon Jungkook is in her humble kitchen of all places. He has the most expressive and sincere eyes ever — he can’t possibly mistake your childhood home as a filming set and your waist as a hand rest.

You finally placate her thoughts when you speak, the loaded silence between the three of you (it’s buzzing with tension if you account for the other two) breaking. You actually giggle, your laughter taking the load off her shoulders because you’re happy; you don’t feel an ounce of guilt even if you’re lying to her face. 

“We’re dating, mom,” you grin. “Jungkook’s my boyfriend.”

Jungkook smiles automatically, feeling your hand snake towards his own. His palm’s much bigger than yours yet it’s warmer than you’ve ever imagined, the envelope both of your hands make putting you at ease.

Your mom’s gasp bounces across the walls. Namjoon’s head that’s only been lowered the entire time you’ve been back suddenly whips to look at you and Jungkook. The fridge even lowers its hum to make way for the theatrics aimed at you, yet your eyes are fixed on your mom’s and Jungkook’s alone.

You came home for her and with him. You’re not here for anyone nor anything else because it’s merely a play for your survival, only this time, Jungkook’s hellbent on increasing your odds.

Yoongi freezes evidently, hand tightening around Haneul’s bottle as if it would do anything to release the red from his vision. He staggers silently, breathing suddenly ragged as he stares down at the offending steel cylinder. It’s small. Compact. If anything, he figures it would hurt if he were to throw it at anything. Anyone. Someone, even.

“Wow, that’s.. that’s amazing!” she embraces the both of you, making you and Jungkook share a gaze you only laugh through because he actually looks honored.

“Thank you, ma’am. I’m sorry I haven’t had the time to let you know personally,” he apologizes meekly for a mistake that isn’t even one in the first place, the humility in his tone making your ears perk. It’s Jungkook onceagain with the apologies towards you that he shouldn’t be making at all, and yet, even in front of your family, he persists.

Jungkook apologizes even for the things he hasn’t done, not because he plans on doing them, but because a large part of him wants to be in the actual situation wherein those mistakes were merely possibilities.

“It’s no problem at all. You’re busy getting all these awards, I know how that’s like,” she jokes, unable to stop smiling. “I’m just glad someone’s taking care of my baby.”

“And I don’t plan on missing a single day, ma’am.”

“Stop that,” she chides, shaking her head eagerly. “You can call me mom.”

Yoongi lets the bottle clatter to the sink.

( ♡ ) 

Yoongi hadn’t been able to sleep last night.

He’d woken up in a cold sweat hours before his alarm was supposed to go off to cook dinner for everyone, even if it was only yourfavorite. The anxiousness that bubbled in his veins when he was asleep was going to burst and while Yoongi thought nothing of it initially, he realizes in panic that it was actually pointing to something. 

He woke up next to Haneul and he was placated momentarily, but the knot tied around his heart tightens twofold when he sees Hyewon on the same bed.

On your bed.

The guilt that filled Yoongi then was enough for the bile to creep up into his throat, making him stagger outside to find Namjoon pacing right outside of his own bedroom. His personal phone’s tucked in between his ear and his shoulder, his hands preoccupied scrolling through whatever it is on his work phone. Yoongi momentarily stops his panic to inquire why the hell Namjoon’s panicking and why did he just see a glimpse of your social media accounts pulled up to the screen, your following list staring your brother in the eyes.

“What? What happened? Is it Y/N?”

Namjoon only looked at him with nothing but pity and guilt, the resentment he had for himself bleeding through the way he shifted his gaze to him.

“She saw you and Hyewon.”

Yoongi hadn’t been able to sleep since.  

He didn’t even blink when Hyewon thanked him and said her goodbyes. He wasn’t even fazed when his ex-wife kissed Haneul goodbye and his son only resumed playing with his blocks. Yoongi hadn’t even tended to himself throughout the entire night, surrendering himself to be awake in your couch in the far event that you’d come home.

Yoongi wanted to follow you home, except almost exactly similar to the past, he had chased you out of what’s supposed to be your own home in the first place. The difference now was that he didn’t mean for Hyewon to be on your bed at all, let alone your room, but in the back of Yoongi’s thick skull — he figures that it won’t be enough for you.

Yoongi waits for you all night throughout the morning like a loyal dog waiting for its master, his chest rising up and down in hope yet his chin down in despondence. You do end up coming back home though, but your presence is neither unaccompanied nor for him.

With you is Jeon Jungkook, your boyfriend.

If only Haneul hadn’t asked for his bottle to be brought upstairs because he’s watching cartoons on Yoongi’s laptop, he would’ve collapsed on the floor then and there, uncaring of the way everyone else would be looking down on him.

If only Namjoon’s gaze wasn’t flitting to him to gauge his reaction because it’s the first time he’s, or by everyone else rather, hearing that you have a boyfriend, Yoongi would put his hands on his head and curse until his piercing migraine suddenly disappears.

If only your mother wasn’t here, frozen in the kitchen mostly because of what you just revealed and who you came home with, and partly because she’s waiting for him to finish washing Haneul’s bottle, he would’ve thrown up right in the sink.

Yoongi gathers all his pain and keeps it shut within himself until he gets you alone, catching you by the staircase when everyone else has dispersed.

“I’m sorry. Namjoon told me what you saw and-…” he stops himself when you look up at him with an innocent yet empty gaze, the weight of it (or lack thereof) startling him. “Let me explain why Hyewon was there in your bed.”

“I don’t want to listen,” you enunciate clearly, keeping your voice down because both Jungkook and Haneul are a few steps away. You do it for their sake and not for Yoongi’s, the bitterness in your chest physically restricting you to think about his state.

Yoongi pushes on, breath already catching in his throat when you’re still stiff as a stone. You haven’t even made a break for it yet; he only unconsciously held onto you out of fear that you’ll be out of his sight. “She was in the area because her parents are old and they don’t know much about selling their house here a-and well, she knows that I did the same for my parents when they sold ours. Nothing happened. I just helped her with the sale! S-she was playing with Haneul in the living room while I napped a-and, I just… when I woke up, they were right next to me. Y/N, I swear, nothing-…”

You shake your head fervently, the innocence of his reason doing little to break the seal in your stomach. You feel it dropping once again and even if Yoongi’s right, even if he’s saying the truth, the sight alone of him appearing to be a part of a happy family jogs up all the pain.

“I don’t want to listen and you don’t have to explain either.”

“But I hurt you. That’s why I want to explain,” he stutters. Yoongi’s eyes are so glassy, you could see your reflection in them.

“Oh. So you know,” you whisper, teeth harshly digging into your bottom lip. “I hate Hyewon for a lot of things but not for being the mother of your child. That’s out of my reach. I get it. She’s his mom and that’s that,” you admit, the vacancy in your chest and on your ring finger reminding you what Yoongi had never given you the chance for. “What I hate is that you let her sleep in my room. Seeing Haneul in there is good. You and him? That’s okay because I let you sleep in there,” you heave, voice close to breaking because of how you force it to be tamped down. “I hate how you let her sleep in my room, Yoongi. I-I, I fucking hate it because it’s just like that time I caught you practically fucking her in my room.”

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t-…” Yoongi sniffles, tears already pouring. The staircase in your house is far too narrow to hold the both of you, let alone your history. “I didn’t think. I didn’t notice, a-and, I didn’t think. I didn’t think at all, Y/N. I thought it was okay for a split second because we looked like-…”

“A family,” you finish for him. “I get it. I do,” you nod your head fervently, your own hand snaking to your lips to stop the sharp inhale that pains you from the inside. “Almost everyone loses their sense of reason when it comes to family.”

“I didn’t notice she already entered the room. But I-I woke up,” Yoongi still swears up and down, adamant on his truth that you aren’t open to entertaining because he’s hurt you far too many times before. “Hyewon and I… we’re not. We’re co-parenting.”

“Still a family.”

“But-…”

“What the hell do you want to hear from me, Yoongi?” you snap, voice finally toning down when you notice faint footsteps coming from the second floor. “Do you— do you want me to agree with you and say that the three of you aren’t a family? And for what, s-so that could somehow excuse you for everything you’ve done? I don’t even know what family’s supposed to mean at this point!”

From upstairs, Namjoon suppresses a sob.

“My mom doesn’t know a single thing about all of this. I-I can’t even cry to her because I’m thinking of you. I’m thinking of protecting you, your son that she looks to as a grandson, a-and even your mom who’s her best friend,” you break into tears, ignoring the baby towel that Yoongi keeps on his person all the time that he offers to you. You sound far too defeated, and maybe you actually are, that Yoongi lets you push past him. “Meanwhile, my own brother probably knows everything but his first instinct is to protect you. Not me, his actual sibling. You.”

.

.

.

Namjoon had been waiting for you upstairs. He’s been barricading the door to the bathroom because he knows you can’t go to bed without your nightly shower, and because he knows that out of every space in the house, it must be the only one left wherein you can be truly alone with no hint of Yoongi.

“We have to talk,” he gets out as soon as you make eye contact with him, the towel that’s slung on your shoulder almost falling at the urgency to which he pulls you aside.

“It can wait.”

“I need to apologize,” he pleads once again, gripping your wrist gently like he had always done when you were kids to get you to listen to him.

“And I said it can wait. I can’t stand you right now,” you grit, the tears on your cheeks barely being dried up when Namjoon, unsurprisingly, decides to apologize to you within the same timeframe as Yoongi. They hadn’t planned it at all — the guilt and remorse weighed far too heavy for them to actually communicate.

“Where will you sleep?” he asks instead, exhaling heavily because you’re insistent on not crying again in barely your first night back, again. “Where will Jungkook sleep?”

“We’ll sleep together in a hotel.”

“Hotel?” Namjoon asks loudly, eyes bulging in shock. His voice is far too loud that everyone in the house (and maybe even your neighbors) must have heard him. “That’s nonsense. This is home, Y/N. You don’t have to book a hotel.”

“It is?” you seethe, your closed fists tightening on themselves painfully. “Did you also say the same thing to Hyewon? To Yoongi in the first place?”

“It’s my fault for-…”

You’re unaware that you and Namjoon are neck to neck until your mom chimes in out of nowhere, her gentle eyes asking more questions than she’s actually uttering. “What’s going on?” she switches her gaze between you and him. “Are the two of you fighting?”

“No,” you answer in unison, unable to fit a relieved sigh in between the terse silence.

“It’s nothing, mom,” Namjoon puts a hand on your shoulder, his smile tight and tense. “I was just telling Y/N that she doesn’t have to book a hotel.”

“Why would you book a hotel?” she gasps incredulously, her tone being the exact copy of Namjoon’s just a second ago.

“It’s just crowded in here, mom. That’s all,” you muster a sheepish smile, your posture slouching the more you realize that there’s no way out.

“I can ask Yoongi and Haneul to transfer to Namjoon’s so you can-..”

“No-!” you interrupt her in a hurry, breath hitching at the mention of him. “No, no. That’s unnecessary. I don’t want to sleep in my room.”

There’s a loaded pause between all of you, even between the door that Yoongi has his back on as he listens in.

“You and Jungkook can take my room instead,” Namjoon insists, his offer only barely scratching the surface of the apology that you truly deserve.

“Great. Thanks,” you conclude, already halfway into the bathroom when the sudden thought strikes you, your curiosity (and limit, by extension) getting the best of you to ask Namjoon while your mom’s still here. “How… how much longer are they gonna stay here?”

“I… haven’t asked yet,” Namjoon admits, the animosity you have towards Yoongi not going unnoticed by your mother.

“You need to ask then,” you quip. “This house is too small to have everyone and anyone.”

( ♡ ) 

Jungkook woke up in peace from sleeping in a bed that isn’t his.

Even before you actually got to shower (and not just sit on the toilet seat whilst trying to compose yourself) since you forgot to retrieve your clothes from your suitcase, Jungkook was already starfished in the middle of Namjoon’s bed. It’s a touching sight atop your own blanket and bug spray that your brother put in for you.

The two of you are far from okay. As a matter of fact, the only people you’re truly okay with in the house is your mom and Haneul; despite knowing that fully, Jungkook still dived in head-first in the middle of your situation. You’ve tried to dissuade him all throughout the five-hour long car ride, and not once did he even budge.

He’s here for you and no one else. He’s snoring in the middle of your sibling’s bed whom you aren’t in good terms with. He’s at ease with you in a province that he’s never stepped foot in, all because he felt compelled to protect you somehow and wouldn’t take no for an answer. 

Jungkook cares for you, enough to write a note and place it beside him just before he went to sleep, telling you that he’s a messy sleeper and to either jolt him awake to move or just manhandle him to the side so you could also sleep on the bed.

You go for the latter, trying to pry him as gently as you could (but even if you just hauled him like a sack of potatoes, he still wouldn’t wake up because he’s at ease too much; it’s you, of course) before finally calling it a night.

You may have lied awake mulling over the perpetual ache in your chest, but you didn’t cry at all.

Eventually, you fall asleep to the sound of Jungkook snoring.

.

.

.

Jungkook may have slept earlier than you, but he makes sure that you stay in late. (read: he physically tucked you into bed so snugly, you probably can’t even shift your shoulders by a centimeter). He wants to pull his weight around a house he hasn’t even been in, even if you hadn’t asked him to — you’d never do, because even as a manager and not as a fake-girlfriend, you don’t let him lift a single finger. Simply put, Jungkook feels this massive pull, not to perform for you, but serve you.

He finds himself quietly going down the stairs, still in his socks because you had stolen his house slippers just last night and he doesn’t have the heart to ask you to give them back. He’s quickly figured out the kitchen, getting a soup started before he allows himself to sit on the dining table by himself.

It turns out that Jungkook’s not alone at all.

“Hi.”

His ears perk at the soft voice that comes from the side of him, eyes immediately setting on the toddler who’s still dressed in his pajamas and has a similar case of bedhead to him.

“Hey buddy. Nice bangs,” Jungkook chuckles invitingly, pulling out a chair for Haneul to which he gets up on easily by himself. 

“My appa cut them for me,” he answers with a smile, shyly pointing to Jungkook’s forehead with an eager finger. “You have bangs too. Who cut yours?”

“My girlfriend. I think she can be a hairstylist one day,” he hums, not feeling guilty over lying to him when it’s only a half, easily-corrected lie. You may not be Jungkook’s actual, real girlfriend, but you did cut his bangs when he asked you to. He couldn’t be bothered going to the salon and you didn’t have the energy to argue with him otherwise, so that’s how he ended up with choppy, viral (it only became viral because he has them) bangs that gained him a few dozen articles or so.

Jungkook doesn’t have kids of his own, but what he does have are several nephews and nieces. He’s the youngest of four children, and that’s perhaps the reason why he could empathize with you. He’s never been through what you have, and although you would never wish for him to do so, a part of him wants to know what it’s like — not because he seeks the pain, but because he wants to know how he could empathize with you better

With Jungkook being Jungkook, it’s perhaps the reason why he’s one of the gifted few people who could strike up a sensible conversation with a toddler and make them laugh without doing anything at all.

Something about Jungkook makes Haneul laugh so loudly, he wakes up almost everyone in the house in peace. Even Jungkook’s attempt at lame jokes tickle Haneul more than the way Namjoon’s ever tried in earnest to make him laugh.

You’ve already slinked past the two of them on the dining table, tending to the soup and the few hundred side dishes Jungkook started on but paused just to talk to Haneul.

“Haneul, don’t believe your uncle-…” you chime over a playful dig that Jungkook makes in your expense, the giggles that had only been filling your ears just seconds ago instantly ceasing when you notice Yoongi standing near you.

“Uncle?” he raises his brow at you, turning his attention to his son. “Haneul, what did I say about talking to strangers?”

“But he’s not a stranger. I saw him in that movie!” he frowns, the immediate awe that slips out of Jungkook’s lips not helping his case in the slightest.

“Still a stranger,” Yoongi smiles tightly, his exhale dragging out as he mulls over the eerily domestic sight of the three of you.

“But he’s Uncle Kook,” Haneul reasons with him, pointing his finger at you. “He’s auntie’s boyfriend.”

.

.

.

Yoongi’s softened a little bit since breakfast.

He was never mad at Haneul in the first place (more like halfhearted because he still stands by his lesson of not teaching him to talk to strangers, even if they’re a worldwide-famous actor, but those are not his words at all) but what he is annoyed about is the scene that he walked into.

It looked far too natural for you to look like Haneul’s mom and for Jungkook to look like him, maybe even better as a dad despite not having children at all, that he thought he was seeing red.

Haneul’s lying on his shoulder as they rewatch Bluey for the second time in the living room, the shadow of your alleged boyfriend walking past him until he registers the accent, later doing a quick turnaround that makes Yoongi ultimately irritated and Haneul more than happy.

“Oh cool. I love Bluey!” Jungkook says sincerely, inviting himself to sit on the lone sofa chair to watch the episode.

“Wow, you’re just so… quirky,” Yoongi mutters under his breath with a roll of his eyes, his snarky remark making Jungkook’s ears tingle. The latter scoffs slyly, making him finally acknowledge Jungkook, albeit sarcastically. “So what do you do, Jungkook?”

Even before he could answer though, Haneul does it for him with an excitement that only comes out whenever he’s talking about his favorites.

“We watched his movies in the cinema, appa! Remember?”

“Did we?” Yoongi narrows his eyes, playing his huff into a cough. He repurposes the tinge of embarrassment that he feels into snark, running a hand through his hair cockily. “I’d for sure remember an actor if they were good.”

( ♡ ) 

“Where’s your brother? I need him to do the heavy lifting.”

Your mom asks you with an urgency that parents only past the age of forty could possess, her lips already parted awaiting your response towards a question she asked just two seconds ago. 

Even if you weren’t engrossed on an episode of Bluey (Jungkook and Haneul put you into it and you get their laser focus now) just now, you still wouldn’t know about your brother’s whereabouts. Yoongi saves you this time, his response piquing both yours and Jungkook’s interest.

“He’s in practice. Joon took Haneul with him so he could learn too.”

Jungkook looks up from his phone sharply, eyes wide in eagerness. He and Yoongi haven’t even looked at each other since yesterday yet their coordination (read: competitiveness) syncs with the other at the exact second, their insistence on tagging along a menial task making you jolt.

“I’ll come with, mom!”

“I’ll come with, auntie.”

It’s not a competition, yet Jungkook jumps up to stand so quickly, his head almost brushed the ceiling. “Let’s go, babe,” he holds out a hand for you, making you clear your throat as you’re still trying to gauge the situation.

“But what about Yoongi? Poor thing, he’ll be left alone,” your mom awes, her pout only deepening when Yoongi pretends to look crestfallen at being overlooked. He doesn’t have to pretend that much because despite not being the biggest fan of grocery-shopping, especially in your area because it always smelled of eggs despite barely carrying any eggs, he’ll jump at any task to impress your mom, and you by extension.

“I don’t think you should worry-…” you start, already being interrupted in an instant.

“Oh come on, Y/N. Two pairs of hands are better than one! They really have to do some heavy lifting because I forget to tell you about that one time your aunts hounded me for-…” she trails off while telling you a story about your supposedly huge extended family, blissfully unaware that there’s two men fighting to open the door for the both of you.

Yoongi’s driving his car as the most spacious option, making Jungkook snicker under his breath as he blames himself for not bringing his SUV which is clearly more expensive than whatever Yoongi’s driving, even if you elbow him lightly by the ribs because you didn’t ask him to do that.

“Mom, what are you doing here? Go sit in the front,” you nudge her, unwilling to sit next to Yoongi in an enclosed space.

“Oh, right! Sorry, I was just used to you always taking shotgun whenever Yoongi’s driving,” she squeals, fondly clapping to herself as she revisits the memory. “Do you remember that, sweetheart? You’d always fight with Namjoon because Yoongi got his license first.”

It may only be your mom who’s leaning against the center console to look at you in the back, but it doesn’t mean that Yoongi’s ever taken off his attention from you.

“I remember,” Yoongi smiles, looking at you from the rearview mirror. “I never forget.”

.

.

.

The grocery store hasn’t changed one bit. 

It still smelled of eggs, the lights still aren’t as bright as they should be, and there’s still trinkets that you’ve always been swayed by being displayed near the register.

You’re taking it all in after not having been back for five years, whereas Yoongi strolls right in, but never ahead of you, as if he’s visited multiple times already since he left your town. 

Your mom and Jungkook are side by side as he asks her a question you can’t even discern, only getting to know his actual agenda when you hear his sneakers skidding against the floor as he runs towards the pushcarts. 

Yoongi, without even knowing the full context, runs after him because he didn’t want to come in second place for whatever it is that Jungkook’s challenging him to.

“I’ll steer the cart,” Jungkook presents definitively, his hand raised mid-air as if he’s being graded for eagerness alone. He looks like he wants to prove himself even if it’s only you and your mom present; no director, no producer in sight who sizes him up. 

“No. I’ll do it,” Yoongi argues out of nowhere, his bruised hands reclaiming the cart under Jungkook’s grasp. He’s not even looking at your mom because his gaze is only fixed on Jungkook who’s just two tugs away from actually spitting at him.

“I said it first,” your pretend-boyfriend forcefully pulls the hunk of metal away from Yoongi, the latter coming along with it for the briefest of seconds before he does the same, this time with Jungkook gasping.

“What, are you method-acting for your next role as a cart-steerer?” 

Your mom’s a little perplexed at the scene before her, lips parting in both concern and amusement because for a pair of people who haven’t met each other before, Yoongi and Jungkook are oddly competitive. They want to provesomething, anything, and maybe everything so bad, they neglect the fact that they look ridiculous fighting over a pushcart. 

“We actually need two,“ she says to no one in particular, thinking out loud as she goes through her grocery list. “I think maybe even three because-…”

“I’ll get it,” Jungkook rushes out in panic, almost bumping into you in the process. You were only gone for a minute to retrieve your phone from the car and yet he already looks breathless, the knot between his eyebrows untangling when he realizes that it’s you. “Oh. Sorry, babe.”

“I’ll get it, Koo,” you murmur, catching the tail end of what your mom said about the pushcarts. Jungkook’s cheeks are tainted pink in frustration and you can’t help but to be concerned, the back of your hand already flitting against his forehead before you know it. “Are you okay? Sorry, the AC in here is not like the AC in the city.”

“Huh, what? Oh no, it’s okay. I just got into this heated cart argument,” he waves you off, eyes rapidly moving between you, your mom, and Yoongi who’s mirroring his exact actions, except for the glaring hint of annoyance with the way he’s standing so close to you.

“Cart argument? What’s-…”

“We need meat.” 

You barely even have a chance to digest what Jungkook’s saying to you before you see him glitch right in front of you in a hurry, the only words to register clearly in your mind being your mom’s. She’s absent-mindedly talking herself through her grocery list (as she always does) and yet the two men right next to her hang onto her every word, the speed they take off on giving you no clue to why they’re acting as such.

“I’ll get it, auntie!” Yoongi gets out even before the wheels of his cart could cooperate, momentarily tripping over himself. Jungkook sputters at that, the laughter that builds in his throat being interrupted because he realizes that the other guy is ahead of him and he simply cannot bear that. 

“Beef. We need beef, right, mom? How many kilos. Like… ten? Okay. I’ll get it!” Jungkook dashes even if he’s never been in this grocery store before; even if your mom hasn’t said a single word to either of them.

You’re left dumbfounded in the middle of the store, your gaze unable to locate the distinct sounds of both of their sneakers skidding against the floor. 

“I didn’t even say anything,” your mom mutters in confusion, eyes flitting to you with a wonder you can’t place because even if the both of you are lost, she seems to have a better idea than you do. “Are they… competing over you, sweetie?”

“Competing? Me? Why would you even say that, mom?” you huff, leaning against the cart as you snatch her list to get the things she’s actually looking for.

“I don’t know,” she lulls, shrugging carelessly before nudging you. “Jungkook’s your boyfriend and well, I assume Yoongi’s always wanted to be in his position.”

“How did you even come to that conclusion?”

“Small town. Few people. Cute girl, cute guy,” she places, the end of her hypothesis being accompanied by a chuckle. When she says it like that, it sounds far too easy — it sounds far too seamless, you almost wish it was exactly that. “I didn’t even take the news that Yoongi was going abroad seriously because I thought it was a joke. I thought he could never move on from here or Namjoon,” your mom pouts, tilting her head when you freeze. “Much more, he could never move on from you.”

“He did,” you answer through gritted teeth, the grip you have on her list making the paper crumple underneath your hold.

Your mom doesn’t know everything. In fact, you don’t even know if she knows anything at all. You don’t despise her for her lack of involvement because you want to keep her from the chaos of your burdens, and you’ve always wanted to keep it that way.

But the way she speaks now, so full of conviction and faith, you find yourself despising it. She speaks as surely as the way Yoongi speeds past the both of you, weaving through aisles to get items she didn’t ask for, competing for and against a higher power (read: you) that Jungkook himself seeks. 

She says it so surely, it’s as if she knows about every waking thought that Yoongi’s ever had in your absence.

“It doesn’t look like he did.”

You ponder over your mom’s adoration for Yoongi, most of which you can’t decipher if it’s misplaced or not. You know he’ll always have a special place in her heart and in her home because she’s known him even before he was born because she’s best friends with Mrs. Min. 

Yoongi has a place in your life, no matter if it’s in your own or in the lives of the people you love. He probably has a modern penthouse in Namjoon’s life, the decoration in it improving over time. On the other hand, Yoongi probably occupies an ancestral cabin in your mom’s life that’s been well-maintained for longer than he’s ever been alive, the decor in it being handmade and resilient through the years. 

In your life, however, you can’t tell how and if Yoongi occupies it in the first place. For the longest time, his place in your life had come in the form of a mansion that not even a single architect nor engineer could ever think of. For a moment too, Yoongi’s place in your heart came in the form of a little house on a vast farm overlooking the mountains and the sea. Throughout all the houses that Yoongi’s shape-shifted to in your life, you doubt now if he could ever turn into them again.

When you think of Yoongi, all you see is your room. 

When you see Yoongi, all you could remember is your childhood house and its shortcomings in your life, especially when you needed to come home to it— to him, the most.

“I’ll pay, mom,” Jungkook snaps you out of your reverie, his whine making your ears ring.

“What? No, Jungkook. This is all too much,” you refuse vehemently, trying to fight him from extending his black card any further.

“It’s not. This is for your family anyway. I, I might have even grabbed extra portions for myself because mom said she’ll repeat tomorrow what she did for lunch today,” he grins, momentarily losing himself to the sight of you that he doesn’t even notice he’s in the process of being one-upped by Yoongi.

“Jungkook, baby, I’ll feel-…”

“I paid for it, auntie,” Yoongi announces, making your lips part and Jungkook’s jaw drop.

“You shouldn’t have, Yoongi,” you scold him softly, a whine already building at the back of your throat but he waves you off easily. Your mom’s thanking him profusely in the background, and while Yoongi’s pleased with the attention, his gaze remains on you.

“But I wanted to,” he insists, pursing his lips. “I should.”

“You’re not family,” is what you want to say.

“But I want to be,” is what he wants to scream.

Wordlessly, Yoongi puts a plastic toy ring he bought from the register into your bag. It’s pink and it’s star-shaped, its mold still the same from all those years ago.

.

.

.

You barrel into your mom’s room just to see Namjoon.

You bit at the chance of giving him the stuff he’s asked for from the grocery as per your mom, taking advantage of her focus on organizing the groceries downstairs to have a one-on-one with your brother.

“You have to make Yoongi drive into the city tonight. Either that or he flies to the US. The reunion is already tomorrow,” you seethe, crossing your arms as he sighs in defeat.

“It’s already late. Yoongi’s driving with Haneul, a kid, alone,” he emphasizes, running a hand through his hair as he himself is troubled by you being in a bind over everything. “And he can’t book a flight back on such short notice.”

“Short notice? What, did he just happen to book a one-way flight and not a round trip one?” you snort in amusement, shaking your head in disbelief. The thought actually cracks you up because out of the three of you, Yoongi happened to be the one more adept to websites despite your limited materials back then. Namjoon remains silent, and with how serious he looks, your face falls.

You can’t believe Yoongi at all.

“He did? You’ve gotta be kidding me, Joon,” you groan, throwing your head back. “What, does that mean Yoongi gets to stay in our home while we’re in this godforsaken family reunion?”

Namjoon delivers yet another blow, his revelation making you more enraged than the last.

“Mom invited them.”

“What? Why?!” you exclaim, chest rising in frustration. “Yoongi’s not family, Namjoon. Atleast not for me.”

He doesn’t miss your added remark at the end of your sentence, the underhandedness of it making him look down on the floor. 

Namjoon feels guilty, he really does, but he can’t seem to make it right. He couldn’t even fight you in insisting to apologize that night.

For each day that you try to delay the inevitable of confronting him and letting him taking the fall, of letting him apologize, Namjoon feels more like a big failure for an older brother than he already is. 

“But he used to be,” he says under his breath, looking up at you with a stubbornness you can’t place. “Your lifetime versus those five years — which one amounts to more?”

( ♡ ) 

Everyone gushes over Jungkook.

In an altitude higher than the mountainside that you’re in now, the aunts, uncles, and cousins you didn’t even know you have squeal over your fake boyfriend. By the fifth relative, you’ve already got your routine down of letting them hug you and kiss your cheek before holding Jungkook’s bicep, acting as his bodyguard to make sure they don’t squeeze him too hard or not at all.

“Oh my god, Y/N. Jeon Jungkook is your boyfriend?!”

“I knew it, I knew you were gonna have a partner who’s famous! I dreamed about it when you were-…”

“If that’s your boyfriend, then who’s he?” your cousin (?) whispers to you, cutting himself off as he turns his gaze to Yoongi and Haneul. They’re most certainly not your family, meaning that they’re unrelated to everyone present, so what your relatives (some more nosy than others) can’t wrap their heads around is the fact that there are strangers in your family reunion.

It takes one, two times for your mom and Namjoon to explain who they are and what they’re doing here in the first place, the chorus of nods eventually signaling that they’ve moved on. Some of them could even recall Mr. and Mrs. Min from the neighborhood, and Yoongi could only nod.

It’s not that he doesn’t belong right now — he actually feels the opposite. Yoongi feels that he has a place amongst a barrage of relatives he’s not affiliated to by neither blood nor paper, and it pains him; not because he’s scared of belonging, but because you probably don’t think the same way.

Haneul runs to him underneath the umbrella he’s isolated himself at, his son grasping an assortment of cash, food, and juiceboxes Yoongi most certainly did not pack in Haneul’s backpack from the night before.

“Auntie’s family is really nice, appa. Look what they gave me,” he shows everything that his hands could carry, breathing heavily in excitement as he explains that your relatives told him to come back once his hands are empty.

“Oh dear. They really think you’re adorable,” he laughs, pocketing Haneul’s cash (he swears he’ll give it back) and hiding some of the snacks he’s been given so he wouldn’t give himself heartburn eating too many at once.

Yoongi’s smiling from ear to ear, sitting Haneul in his lap as he overlooks the view of your town from above. Everything looks so small and delicate, you’d almost think none of what laid downhill ever even mattered. He didn’t get views like these in New York. 

Yoongi didn’t get people like you in New York.

“Mama’s family isn’t this nice,” Haneul speaks out of nowhere, his thoughts uttered out loud directed more-on to himself than it is for his dad. Yoongi stops in his tracks in trepidation, shoulders tensing over what his son just said. “They never play with me like this. Not like auntie.”

He knows Hyewon’s relatives, albeit not that well. Her family members in the US were not this kind, not this warm, even to a child who’s actually related to them.

Yoongi’s stuck in his thoughts the whole time Haneul sips on his juice, finally being snapped into his reality nowwhen you approach their direction. His son waves at you excitedly even if you’ve just crossed paths minutes ago.

“Here, Haneul,” you hold out a container to him, the gentle smile on your face limited to only him yet Yoongi, for a lack of grace, pretends it’s also for him. “I tried my best to make it look like Bluey,” you chuckle, pointing to the mini sculpture made out of the marshmallows and blueberries that your relatives set aside for him.

Haneul beams at you, thanking you profusely. If only he wasn’t sat on Yoongi’s lap and therefore grounded, he would’ve launched himself at you to hug your legs.

Yoongi takes the hat right off his head, putting it on you while you’re crouched next to his son.

“It’s hot,” he explains, his heart continuously speaking beats the longer that you linger beside Haneul and the longer that he giggles in excitement. “I know you get headaches easily.”

( ♡ ) 

Despite being reachable, Yoongi still yearns for you.

He yearns for you even if you’re only within arm’s reach, sitting near you but never close enough at the long table because with you, he feels safe. He laughs in the background like it’s a sitcom to every joke and every episode of banter thrown around him. He doesn’t feel out of place with your family — he feels out of place with you.

He’s never been a wickedly jealous type. Even when he and Hyewon were still together and she cheated on him, Yoongi felt more resentful than he was jealous. He didn’t feel this type of way; he didn’t feel inferior. He didn’t feel like he was nursing a loss in his life because he has no choice but to. Yoongi had managed to divorce Hyewon because it didn’t work out between them, and that was that.

Yoongi can neither divorce you nor pull away from you because you’ve never been with each other. He harbors no resentment for you and that scares him, not because he wants to hate you so badly, but because he feels as if everything you’ll do to him, he’ll take it.

Yoongi will take it even if you set a plate for Jungkook despite unconsciously forgetting what he’s always disliked eating when you were still kids. He’ll take the serving tray from your hands still, uncaring if eating the tiniest bite of the food you’ve passed gives him an allergic reaction because you were the one who offered.

He’ll take it even if you hold Jungkook’s bicep in a hurry when there’s a bug that’s getting awfully close to your drink. Yoongi would walk to where you sit and dispose of it wordlessly because even Jungkook himself is scared of bugs. He doesn’t mind if you don’t thank him, because atleast now when he looks at you from a distance, you’re sitting in relaxation and you no longer have to hold your boyfriend.

He’ll endure the jealousy that burns through his throat more than the poorly-made, highly-alcoholic vodka your uncle made himself. He’ll hold onto the poison that is yearning and how he’ll feel like his throat would close up because if you were still young, in this setting of free rein, except you were still in love him like you used to be and he’s in love with you like he is now, neither you and Yoongi would be hurting.

Yoongi will take it. He’ll take the nothing that you give him and give you the everything that you don’t ask for anymore.

Five years versus the rest of your lifetime that you spent being in love with him is only miniscule. The suffering that he’s going through now is only a speck of the years you’ve spent in an unrequited love.

Unlike you, Yoongi’s weak. If he were to say it outloud to you, you’ll never agree because you’ve never regarded yourself otherwise. You’ll go on this tangent that you’ve always been weak, influenced by the times that Yoongi had chastised you for your lack of a passion. 

To you, Yoongi had been right in a way.

To Yoongi, he’s always been in the wrong.

He’s crying to you now that the both of you are alone, overlooking the small town he used to be keen on getting out of. Now, more than ever, Yoongi wants to stay in it. He wants to stay with you.

“Why is everything with you so hard?” Yoongi whispers, his tears stinging badly from the corner of his eyes to the point that he can only make out shapes. He’s unkempt and frantic as if his life flashed before his eyes and there’s nothing he could do about it, voice strained like much of the times he’s drank himself to sleep.

He resembles Haneul at the moment. He’s always had because there’s not one bit of Hyewon in his son’s features or personality, but he looks especially like him now that he’s crying. The back of his hands harshly dig into his face, sobs bursting right from his throat. “Why do I make everything so hard for us? Why can’t I— w-why can’t I make it right for once?”

There’s a tremble to your chest that you ignore earnestly, the presence of it enough to scare you because it’s familiar; too familiar. Seeing your past play out in front of you in the form of a seemingly content family sleeping on your bed is one thing, but it’s another to see its patriarch crumble in front of you. It’s different to see your past pleading in front of you for just the slightest bit of your attention.

As a matter of fact, it’s different now because you resemble Yoongi the most. 

“You never tried,” you seethe, jumping the gun before you even try to decipher what’s in the barrel. It’s a bullet you fire haphazardly that comes from your pocket that you’ve always held onto. It’s a misplaced, misshapen, old bullet that you force into a gun that Yoongi passed onto you.

Right now, Yoongi doesn’t resemble Haneul, and neither does he resemble his ex-wife. 

He resembles you with the way his eyes are clearly swimming in hurt while you avoid looking at his, just to relieve the painstaking feeling of guilt and longing compacted into a sob.

“I never tried?” Yoongi exhales shakily, his quivering hands running through his hair to tug on them.“I never tried?”

You hear yourself clearly even if it’s his voice. The tremble and the anger, even all the way to the blind hope.

“I kept trying to reach out to you every single time. Every single birthday, every single Christmas, every insignificant holiday I could search up!” Yoongi cries — he actually thrashes with the way he sobs, shoulders shaking violently. “I didn’t try? If I didn’t try, try looking at every page of my passport to see all the stamps there are whenever fucking Jungkook was reported to be in another country,” he spits his name like poison, the vitriol behind it, however, never catching up to what he feels about himself.

You resemble Yoongi the most because you stand untethered, eyes blurring and lips quivering, yet you only watch him lose himself before thinking of uttering a single word.

“I’m selfish, I’m an asshole, and I’m fucking insufferable. I can’t even apologize to you correctly,” Yoongi lists, chest rising up and down too heavily, he feels like it’ll give out. “But I love you, Y/N. I-I might be every bad thing in your life right now and I own up to that. I’m still trying to be the best for you.”

Not only does Yoongi resemble you — he’s actually become you.

“You can call me the vilest names ever but you can’t say that,” he grits, teeth chattering not from the cold he’s put himself in, but because he can’t stop mentioning your name in between. “You can’t say I never tried because I always have. I’ll never stop becausethat’s what it takes,” Yoongi mutters; because, he says, not if.

“I love you,” he says it far too clearly for someone who’s drunk; far too sincerely for someone who had spent the better part of his life putting it through your head that he can’t return your affection. “I’ve always loved you.”

( ♡ ) 

You don’t feel good.

There’s a fever that’s starting to bloom from the base of your skull all the way to your toes, the abnormal warmth you feel in your chest making you unable to interact with everyone else outside of your room. Jungkook had left with your uncles before dawn to go fishing in the nearby lake and never would you think to inconvenience him; to tend to someone like you for something as minor as a fever, or for anything at all.

You already have a system down for taking care of yourself when you’re ill. It started when neither your mom nor your brother were home with you, and it was finally perfected when you had to live completely alone in the big city. All you had to do was gather all the energy you have, spend it at the start to get everything you could possibly need and put them all at the side of your bed, and rest until everything no longer hurts.

The major flaw with your system now is that you don’t have the energy at all. You can’t build up the strength to get up, walk across the hall and interact with your relatives, and rummage through groceries to get what you need without being questioned; you can’t build up the sense of importance you have for yourself to ask for help.

Namjoon comes into your room before you could dance around the idea of asking him to get you water, all because he has this innate sense of guilt in him and you could utilize it to your advantage. Your brother gets ahead of you before you could even register that he’s here with you, his eyes sullen and pleading.

“Can we talk?”

“I can’t exactly storm off right now,” you rasp, your voice fading out into a low chuckle.

“Do you want to talk when you’re able to storm off?” he asks sincerely with a small smile, his hand fixing your hair as gently as he could without making your migraine ring further. “If you do though, then you probably might never hear me out again.”

You stay silent because he is right, but Namjoon feels otherwise. He feels as if he hasn’t been doing anything right at all and you existing separate from him is a constant reminder. His career is at its peak but he thinks he could go higher; his relationship with you is deteriorating and he doesn’t think it could possibly be worse.

“I’m sorry for being a shitty brother,” he apologizes, the first thing out of his mouth being the last thing that floods his mind before he goes to sleep at night. “I should’ve never defended Yoongi, even Hyewon by extension.”

The heat behind your eyes isn’t all from your fever. The tears that prick your eyes aren’t because of the pressure in your head, but because of the fact that you haven’t heard Namjoon apologize to you in a long time; you haven’t talked this sincerely for even longer

“I should’ve put you first,” he sniffles, muttering apologies in between his pauses for finding the right words that would make it okay; that would somehow undo all that he’s been an accomplice to. “I should’ve been this reliable, sturdy man of the house. I-I should’ve been more of a father figure to you-…”

“Don’t,” you interject sternly. “You never filled in his shoes and you should never will. You’re only mom’s son and my brother, Namjoon. It’s never been your job to raise me.”

Even after everything, there’s a gentleness to you that Namjoon’s always loved but hate the most now. He hates that even if he’s the one who’s apologizing, you’re the one who’s saying sorry for the things you didn’t even inflict on him. Neither of you wanted to be raised by only a single parent, yet you absolve him of the guilt he’s always felt.

“But I could’ve been better. I wish I was already better from the start.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think how hard life was for you growing up. I-I would’ve given up football if only-…” he trembles, unable to get the last of his sentence out because you shake your head in earnest.

“Stop.”

“But I mean it. If only I-I didn’t get into football, I could’ve been there for you and mom much often. I could’ve been better and-...”

“But I grew up to be okay, didn’t I? You’re the best at what you do. We’ve managed to retire mom early because we put in the work,” you whisper, the shrug of your shoulders feeling more heavy that it should feel because the words don’t come out easily from you. 

“But okay shouldn’t have been enough for you,” Namjoon tears up, bottom lip trembling as you try to take in his words that you’ve always wanted to hear at the back of your mind; you hear them now when you’ve already grown up. You hear them now after you’ve already endured the grief. “I— we should’ve given you the fighting chance to grow up more than okay.”

.

.

.

It’s not Jungkook who comes to visit you while you’re nursing a fever, because you’ve temporarily banned him from the bedroom. He only pouted in complaint when you called him, but he didn’t fight you that much either because you’ve called him out for the excitement in his voice to go hiking for the first time.

It’s not Yoongi who comes to visit you while you’re nursing a fever, because Haneul asked him to teach him Go (he’s not even that good at it and being the ever unable to show incompetence and have pride especially when Jungkook’s watching father, he discreetly asked lessons from your mom) so he’ll be able to play with your cousins.

Instead, it’s your mom who visits you. Even if Namjoon hadn’t tipped her off that you were feeling under the weather, she’s already had a feeling this morning.

“Are you okay, sweetie?” she asks, her hands full of everything you could possibly need and more before plopping them at your side. She makes you sit up even before you could complain, handing you a drink with some medicine you didn’t even know she carried

“Just a little fever,” you answer, getting back into your cocoon. 

You don’t even attempt to make conversation because you fear that you don’t have it in you to have a heart-to-heart talk with your mom just minutes after you’ve had one with Namjoon.

You don’t even say anything to her except your thanks. Namjoon didn’t even tell her about your conversation, even if he approached her with tear-stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes while saying that it was just allergies.

Your mom feels the guilt spring to her chest even if you don’t utter a single word. She feels the remorse in her eyes when you don’t ask her for anything more. She feels the guilt the most in her hands when you don’t ask her to stay.

“I’m sorry if I made you feel like there wasn’t enough space for your burdens growing up.”

“What?”you scramble to get up in a seated position, eyes hazy from how quick you do it. “Mom, you scared me. Where’s this coming from?” 

She shakes her head at your cluelessness, eyes stinging when you genuinely look at her innocently. You don’t know what she’s talking about, even if the thought has plagued her for so long.

“You’re not really okay, are you?”

“It’s… just a fever,” you mumble, your breathing already trembling at the way she looks at you.

She’s looking at you like you’re still a kid; ever so fragile and innocent, it’s as if she wouldn’t let a single thing in this world harm you. She doesn’t know a single thing about your feud with Namjoon and your long drawn-out conflict with Yoongi. What your mom does know is that she doesn’t know a single thing about the heartbreak you suppress, and that thought alone makes her hiccup in tears.

“You’re right, you know? Our house is small,” she says, distinctly recalling the tensioned conversation you had with Namjoon back at home. “It’s tiny but it was far too big for you growing up alone,” she inhales sharply, trying not to sob in front of you. “He wasn’t in the picture. I was working a hundred jobs left and right. Namjoon was trying to make a name for himself,” she shakes her head, so much so that the necklace she’s had since you were children, the same one with yours and Namjoon’s birthstones on it, rattles. “I’m sorry for making you feel that you can’t come to me.”

In just a full day, you’ve heard everything that you’ve ever wanted. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted during the school plays where you had no one from your family, except Yoongi, to watch you become an extra up on stage. He’d always deny that he did show up for you and just say that it’s because he was genuinely interested in a play about a poet he didn’t care about in reality, but you take it nonetheless.

It’s everything you’ve ever prayed for watching Yoongi live a life far too advanced for you as he held Hyewon’s hand after school. It’s what you wanted to hear when you begged him not to leave you behind.

“I-I’m okay. I’m really-…” you stutter, looking away before your tears fall in the fear that they’ll never stop.

Your mom only hugs you tighter.

“I’m here if you want someone else to carry your burdens,” she whispers. “I’m here now.”

( ♡ )

It’s the last day of the reunion when you fully recover, and it’s hours ahead of everyone when Jungkook has to leave by himself.

Without even asking for it, Jungkook grants you another week’s worth of break. You didn’t even plan on asking, yet Jungkook’s willing to give you a month if only you do. 

You’ve already arranged for his personal driver to pick him up and take him back to the city. You’ve already packed his bags, along with the multiple containers of food that your relatives (and especially your mom) insisted for him to take. You’ve arranged for your substitute to take care of him for his schedules throughout the week, along with the insistent reminder to call you whenever Jungkook needs you. (Read: he does, with or without a schedule.)

Everything is set for Jungkook to leave except for his driver who’d been roped by your mom to be filled with breakfast first, yet with the remaining minutes left, Jungkook’s still with you on your bed. 

He lies on your lap even if there’s plenty of space for him to lie parallel to you on a pillow — and you let him.

“Have you ever thought about kissing me?” he asks in the middle of you texting your substitute, the randomness of his thought already being familiar to you. This time, unlike the few thousand times he’s ever asked you something straight off his mind without refining them, is different.

It’s different now because your pretend-boyfriend asks you if you’ve ever thought about kissing him, while looking like he really wants to kiss you.

“Where’d that come from?” you giggle, looking down on him on your lap. 

Not once does Jungkook ever look away from you.

“Dunno,” he shrugs, pointing up at you. “Your lips are close to bleeding and it’s bothering me.”

“Sorry for turning you off,” you snort in laughter, wiping at the tiny specks of blood. Jungkook tuts when you rub at them, feeling for his lip balm out of his pocket.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he stresses, going a little cross-eyes when he applies them for you. His eyes keep goading you, the smile he has on his face widening the more that you look at him incredulously. “Sooo… have you?”

You don’t want to lie to him at all.

“If I answer yes, Jungkook,” you toy around with his hair, setting your phone face-down because you can’t focus on anything else now. “We can never come back from that.”

Jungkook laughs in glee so loudly, Yoongi (who was only passing by; he really, really swears he didn’t just happen to eavesdrop in your room because Jungkook’s driver is all done eating and wants to beat traffic) actually flinches.

Jungkook strains to be closer to you, unconsciously training you to lean down. His lips are far too soft — far too close to you, you could see every line and every nuance in them. He whispers, eyes practically crossing at your proximity.

“And is that such a bad thing?”

( ♡ ) 

You’re back at home when Jungkook texts you that he’s made it back safe, and that he wants to kiss you again.

You’re back at home when Yoongi asks you if he could use the bathroom first because Haneul spilled milk on him during the drive. You’re in your childhood bedroom when you let him clean up first, and you’re sitting on your childhood bed when you volunteer to put Haneul down because he’s cranky and for some reason, wants to be held by you.

You’re back at home too when Yoongi and Haneul are knocked out for the night, and your mom calls you and Namjoon down for all three of you to talk at the dining table.

You’re back at the home you were raised in, sitting on the dining table that’s creaky when more than two people lean their weight into it, in the space you’ve roamed around alone waiting for them to come home, when your mom talks about wanting to sell it.

“You want to sell?” Namjoon’s eyes widen, exchanging a glance with you who’s as equally surprised as he is.

“Yes. It’s under my name, y’know? Not that… man’s,” she snorts, the off-hand mention of your father making you and Namjoon laugh unexpectedly. Your mom looks at ease as she talks about selling your house, the smile she has one her face being shaped with experience and grace. “I doubt the both of you would want to keep this, and besides, the offers I’ve kept for years now are high. You already know that big-shot companies have been buying out houses here for years now because of the growth potential and whatnot. Who knows, maybe our block will be turned into a mall!” she shrugs, the happiness in her tone infectious. 

For someone who’s decided on letting go the house she’s both struggled and strived in, your mom’s beyond excited.

For two adults, who were once kids, who’ve seen the amount of sacrifices your mother’s put into the place by herself, you and Namjoon don’t have any objections.

“Also, consider this as me asking for permission to go on a vacation, even if I’m grown, because some people get so paranoid when I don’t answer calls,” she digs at you and your brother, immediately inciting coughs because you two, in fact, are guilty of worrying over your mom too much. “I’m going on this worldwide trip with Yoongi’s mom,” she grins, pulling out one last surprise. “We’ve talked about it since we were young. She’s earned her stripes working abroad, I managed to raise two amazing children as a single mom. We’ve earned it, I think.”

You and Namjoon share a glance once again, this time more definite than the last. You’ve made up already as far as your mom could tell, and that confirmation is what she needs before finally selling the house you all grew up in.

“You’ve earned it more than anyone.”

( ♡ ) 

Yoongi’s packing up for their flight tonight when you go into your room to pack up the life you’ve lived there.

“You’re coming with me and Haneul?” Yoongi jokes when he sees you pulling out your own luggage, the tone of his voice highly suggesting for you to become serious. He gets you to smile and that’s big enough of a win as is, the remainder of it more than substantial to hold onto when he’s away from you. Again.

“No, unfortunately. I’m packing up the room and eventually… the whole house,” you answer with a chuckle, voice trailing off when you see the crestfallen look on Yoongi’s face. He looks like someone who’s just absorbed the largest pain to man as he’s trying not to make it obvious. “We’re posting it for sale two weeks from now.”

Yoongi nods tightly, inhaling sharply as he tries to maintain his steady tone. “Then why are you packing up already?”

You could do this tomorrow. As a matter of fact, you could do it tonight because you don’t have to drive them to the airport. You have all the time in the world within two weeks to do this, yet you go into your room now when Yoongi’s still in it.

When Yoongi still hasn’t left, and neither of you know when you’re gonna see each other next.

“I have to get a move on. If I don’t move now,” you trail, voice close to trembling as you open cabinets you’ve never even given the time of day before. “I’m scared that I’ll keep holding onto this house.

Yoongi nods, even if he fully understands — even if he doesn’t want to swallow what you’re saying.

“You want out?”

“We want out — me, mom, Namjoon,” you explain, looking at him properly for the first time since he told you that he loved you. “For the longest time, we’ve held onto this place because we became this house at one point. Namjoon’s this world star, my mom’s traveling the world with your mom-…”

“Oh, they’re finally doing it?” Yoongi interrupts, a smile finally coming to his face at the news. He hasn’t talked to his mom in a month from how busy he’s been, and although he’s always missed her (even if they’re on much better terms than he and his dad could be), he’s happy knowing that your moms have each other atleast. “How about you? What will you be doing?”

“I’ll just be… living day-to-day. I’m not doing anything extremely special, but I’m happy and busy doing it,” you laugh, looking around your room that hasn’t appeared this clean, this warm, since you last stayed in it. “No one’s going to be around here anymore.”

As if on cue, Haneul runs to Yoongi’s arms to be picked up. He knows what the luggages mean and because he’s largely in denial that they have to leave later (as referenced by him crying to your mom and Namjoon), Haneul keeps pretending to sleep so that their trip gets delayed.

Yoongi’s about to put him on your bed even if he knows his son’s antics already, but in the fear that he’ll actually get to sleep and they don’t get to leave (which he isn’t opposed to at all), he keeps him in his arms.

You, on the other hand, take Haneul from him when his arms outstretch for you.

There’s the sentiment of you not having to do it that’s resting at the tip of Yoongi’s tongue but he holds himself back, the image of you and Haneul completely fitting one another, he wants to burn a copy of it to his retinas and designate it to be the last thing he’ll see if he ever goes blind.

Without putting Haneul to sleep on your bed, he goes to sleep in peace in your arms.

“Do you regret it?” Yoongi asks throughout the silence between you, sitting next to you at the edge of your bed. “Do you regret ever liking me?”

“I do,” you answer truthfully, rubbing circles at the Haneul’s back. “I regret knowing you.”

Yoongi takes the responsibility fully, even fuller than the way both your hurt and happiness could make or break him.

“I can’t take back all the hurt I’ve caused you,” he admits just as honestly, turning to look at you. He becomes surprised to learn that you’ve been looking at him the whole time. “But what I can promise you is that I’ll never do anything to hurt you again.”

“I have my share of faults too.”

“Eh. Mostly mine.”

“Mostly yours, yeah,” you laugh easily, nodding to yourself as you continue. “But I held onto you as much as you didn’t hold onto me. That’s my mistake.”

Yoongi stays silent at that, not because he agrees, but because the bias that you’ll never be wrong in his eyes overtakes your humbleness.

“Do you think he’ll remember the entirety of the trip?” you ask, gesturing to Haneul who’s already sleeping like a hibernating bear in your hold. “Or will Haneul just remember that time the power went out because he cried a lot?”

“Oh, he’ll remember everything alright. He’s good with retention and people in general,” Yoongi waves you off. “Even if he didn’t come along the trip— even if we didn’t crash the whole thing, Haneul would remember you.”

“Who am I to him?” you ask in curiosity, lips turning into a straight line before they curve in the slightest. “Appa’s friend, I bet.”

“Not really. You’re a lot of things to me,” Yoongi chuckles, looking at the way Haneul grips you as if you’ll float away if he lets go; he’d do the same too. “More like my first love.”

Yoongi loves you quietly.

He loves you quietly with the way he draws the curtains downstairs when you sleep on the couch, tired and stressed over a solution you couldn’t understand. He loves you with the way he’ll scoop the warmest, freshest, least-burnt portion of rice to your bowl without you even asking for it. He loves you with the way he’s willing to let you walk all over him.

He loves you quietly in the way that not even distance nor time could disrupt him.

Yoongi loves you quietly, it might have been too much.

“Is that a lottery ticket?” he asks suddenly as he spots the familiar face of it inside your luggage, tucked into the discreet pocket where your mother’s letters of encouragement when you went to the big city were also kept

“Oh, it’s still there,” you answer, in surprise yourself because even if this is the same luggage you use whenever you go out of the country with Jungkook, you’ve never noticed that it was still there. “I bought it when you left for the US.”

Yoongi stops in his tracks in retrieving the scratch ticket from the pocket, looking up at you in curiosity. “Why did you buy one that day?”

Haneul stirs in his sleep in your arms, waking up right at the middle of you and Yoongi being lost in each other. He mistakes the silence as a signal that they’ll be leaving already, making a mess of himself as he quickly goes down the stairs to look for your family there and cling to them instead.

You and Yoongi are alone again.

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly, grasping the scratch ticket you used to spend hours looking. “I guess I just needed some proof that fate was against me that day.”

“But how would you even know that?” Yoongi asks, pointing to the card that’s still covered. “You didn’t even scratch it.”

You answer honestly, the reason burnt to the back of his mind.

“Because I knew I would lose my mind if I actually lost.”

“Try,” Yoongi swallows, nudging the ticket closer to you with a gaze that mirrored yours when he left. “Try again. Please.”

You have nothing else to lose.

Yoongi isn’t yours to lose.

You retrieve the same old coin Yoongi gave to you on the same day that he bought you your first scratch ticket, the appearance of it from your luggage making his heart skip a beat.

He doesn’t speak and neither do you, gaze only fixed on the way you scratch the card almost hesitantly, as if you’re still scared of the results of something that you should’ve known five years ago. (Read: you still are.)

When you get to the last digit, you freeze. You comb through the pattern over and over again, yet you still can’t believe it.

You’ve won the highest possible prize.

“Oh.”

“Oh,” you parrot Yoongi, looking up at him as he can’t believe it either.

“You won.”

“I won,” you repeat, running a hand through your hair. You actually laugh, the lump in your throat subsiding. It’s a welcome, albeit loaded, feeling of happiness that comes in between the two of you. “I thought I would lose,” you mutter bitterly, shaking your head. 

You didn’t lose. Fate wasn’t against you that day, and yet you still lost yourself thinking subconsciously what the proof of it would’ve been.

“Who would’ve thought, right?” you sigh, eyes drifting to Yoongi. “If only I took that chance years ago, I would’ve won.”

Yoongi smiles tightly, breath faltering in recollection.

“I’m familiar with the feeling,”

Yoongi doesn’t get to finish packing for him and Haneul and neither do you with your whole room, the shift in the atmosphere suddenly making him stand.

He’s breathless and he doesn’t know what for, the rapid beating of his chest making his voice louder than necessary. “Hey, what do you say you take a break? I’ll pack up your room. I have to stay alert anyway for Haneul."

You thank him before leaving him alone in your room.

Yoongi can’t find the strength in him to pack. The only power he has left in him is for him to think of taking everything out from his luggages, the thought of leaving again, this time worlds different than the last when you were begging him not to — he feels like throwing up.

Yoongi’s merely an amalgamation of you. He’s only a compilation of your every word, every feeling you’ve implanted in his heart. He’s filled with nothing but your every triumph and shortcoming; every late night hanging out with you as you attempt to study while he keeps you company, every minute he spent going out of his mind trying to look for you when you ran away from home.

Yoongi loves you silently to the point that he gets out of your room without accomplishing a single thing he said he’ll do just awhile ago.

In the grand scheme of things, Yoongi realizes that he was wrong. He was as wrong as you were right that the moment he leaves home, he’ll spend the rest of his life looking for it. 

Even if you left your home like he did, even if neither of you could come home anymore the moment your childhood house gets sold, Yoongi would still search for it. He’ll still search for you. You’re no longer where you were, but you are everywhere that Yoongi is.

He looks for you in Namjoon’s room, to the dining table, and all the way outside, just to ask if he and Haneul could stay for dinner.

Yoongi finds you and Haneul eating sundaes on the pavement outside, with you on the ground and a scrap cardboard underneath Haneul so it wouldn’t be hot for him.

Fate hadn’t been against you five years ago. And even if he’s much too late, Yoongi could only pray that fate isn’t against him now.

He walks over to where you and Haneul are, grabbing another scrap of cardboard to put underneath you.

Yoongi is consumingly yours all the time.

[wcnderlnds]

caught in the act

COLIN ZABEL, PETER MAXIMOFF, WARREN LIPKA, PRE!DEATH KYLE SPENCER, RORY MONAHAN.

・❥・ summary: a series of drabbles on their reactions to someone catching you in the act ・❥・word count: 1.7k ・❥・warnings: 18+ smut, nsfw. unprotected p in v. oral (m & f recieving). swearing. alcohol mentions. female reader. ・❥・ authors note: this was requested by the lovely @bohnerrific69. it was supposed to be headcanons but im an overacheiver. i added rory for my own benefit bc that's my man and there needed to be something sweet so kyle is there too. its badly written smut like always.

COLIN ZABEL

It had been a cold, dreary evening when you’d entered the police station in search of your boyfriend’s office. He had called you earlier in the day to ask you to meet him before the end of his shift so you could easily go for dinner when he was finished. However, when you got to his office, he had stacks of paper piled up on his desk, head in his hands. This man was stressed. Work always did that to him but you had a way to make him relax. It had taken a lot of convincing but somehow you’d managed to make him cave. That’s how you ended up on the floor beneath his desk with his cock in your mouth. Your plump lips moving agonisingly slow against him. Colin’s hands threaded through your hair, guiding your movements.

“Babe, please…. faster,” he said breathlessly. He was really trying his best to be quiet. Who were you to deny his request? First, you had to tease him so you swirled your tongue along his tip, Colin’s hips bucking up into your mouth as you teased his sensitive head. Deciding to put him out of his misery, you sunk your lips back down onto him taking him all the way into the back of your throat. Colin let out a loud groan, your eyes widening as you looked up at him.

“Be quiet!” You hissed, pulling off him. In an attempt to keep him quiet, you moved up his body to straddle him. Grinding your clothed core against his aching cock, your lips found his, messily kissing him. It was just as your hand was sliding between your legs to push your panties to the side when the door to the office opened.

“Everything alr-” Mare started but stopped the second she saw you hop off Colin’s lap. Colin had never looked so alarmed and embarrassed in his life. His hands fumbled as he tucked himself back into his pants, standing up only to hit his knees on the edge of his desk.

“Mare… y-you… need something?” Colin tried to act nonchalant but the redness of his cheeks betrayed him. Mare only smirked, looking between you and Colin.

“Heard a weird noise but… I see now I was interrupting.” She snickered, letting the two of you stew in your embarrassment at being caught as she left the office.

“I’m going to go dig myself a hole now and live in it,” you said, absolutely mortified. Colin grabbed you, pulling you against his chest. His hand resting on the back of your head, soothing you.

“Make it big enough for the both of us at least.”

WARREN LIPKA

“Holy fuck,” you cried out as your fingernails tried to grip into the soft fabric of the couch cushion. Warren had bent you over the arm of the couch, his fingers digging in your hips as he pounded relentlessly into you. The way he was gripping you and holding you in place was sure to leave a bruise but he didn’t seem to care. All he cared about right now was getting off. The moans that left your lips were almost pornographic, the grunts coming from Warren turning you on even more if that was possible. All you’d wanted when you came over was to ask him he’d help you with some problem you were having with your college work. Warren was smart – he just didn’t like to seem it. He was good at solving puzzles, figuring them out so he was always your go-to person when any issues like that came up. But, it had ended how it always did with Warren fucking the living daylights out of you.

“That’s it, baby. Take it, take all of it,” Warrens voice was strained, rough. He was barely holding back. His hand reached up your back to grab your hair, pulling it into a makeshift ponytail in his fingers, yanking your head back. Warren was anything but gentle but he’d hear no complaints from you. 

Just as you felt those sweet, intense feelings coiling up in the pit of your stomach, footsteps sounded off the staircase leading into the basement. Warren mustn’t have heard (or he didn’t care) because he kept shoving his cock deep inside you. It wasn’t like you were in a position to warn him anyway. At this point you were rendered speechless, the only sounds coming from your mouth were moans and pleas of Warren’s name.

“Oh, what the fuck!” Spencer’s voice rang out. 

Warren didn’t stop but turned to face Spencer. “Dude, fuck off. Or watch, I don’t give a shit.”

Judging by the sound of rushed footsteps, you guessed Spencer had taken the first option. Just in time too because Warren buried himself deep inside you triggering your orgasm as he pumped you full of his hot seed.

PETER MAXIMOFF

When Peter had wiped your high score off the leaderboard of Space Invaders, you had stormed off in a huff. The pout on your face was enough to make Peter cave with a promise of making it up to you. Somehow, you’d ended up in the arcade bathroom. It was small, kind of cramped but Peter had you sat on the edge of the small, porcelain sink. Your legs were wrapped around him as he thrust into you. His head was buried in the crook of your neck, your hands tugging on his silver hair as he left wet kisses along your skin. He bit down on your pulse point leaving a nice, red mark there that was sure to turn into one hell of a hickey.

“Nice,” he murmured as he pulled back to admire his handiwork. Peter wasn’t really a possessive guy but he did love to see you all marked up by him.

“Peter,” you whined, urging your hips forward against his. “Stop fucking around and fuck me.”

“With pleasure, m’darlin’.” He pulled out then slammed back in causing the loudest moan to fall from your lips. This new pace was quick, hard and you were putty in his hands. His fingers found your clit, using his mutation to vibrate against it and bring you to your release faster. 

In his haste, Peter must have forgotten to lock the bathroom door because in walked poor Scott who looked like he’d just seen the most traumatising thing on the planet. You pushed Peter off you, the speedster turning with a huff to glare at Scott. “Dude! Occupado!”

“Maybe lock the door next time, Maximoff,” Scott mumbled, slamming the door shut and leaving you both to it.

“This is the most embarrassing moment of my life,” you jumped off the sink but before you had time to react Peter had sped you off back to his basement, throwing you on his bed and sliding back inside you with promises of making it up to you.

KYLE SPENCER

It had been a normal party. Beer was flowing and people were up to all kinds of stupid stuff but you? Well, you’d had your eyes on none other than Kyle Spencer. The two of you had always had a flirty thing going on but neither had made a move. Whether it was the alcohol making you both tipsy or something else, you found yourself in one of the spare bedrooms in the house of the party, Kyle’s cock inside you as you rode him. He sat on the edge of the bed with you on his lap slowly rising and falling on him.

“You look so damn beautiful riding me like this, baby,” Kyle praised, his hands skimming up your sides.

At his words, you moved a little quicker, resting your hands on his shoulders for leverage. He was so deep inside you – he was big so he was hitting that sweet spot most men never found. It was probably the best sex of your life. He was being sweet too and that was an added bonus. Your lips found his, Kyle’s hand resting on your back as he flipped you onto the bed so he was on top now. He kept the slow rhythm, his thrusts shallow and intense.

Both of your eyes snapped to the door when the sound of music blasted through it when it opened and in stepped another drunk couple. They didn’t seem to notice you at first. Kyle grumbled to himself, pulling out of you and throwing one of the blankets over you to cover your modesty.

“Guys, come on. This room is taken,” he tried to be kind as he threw them out of the room but he was still rock hard and all he could think about was getting back inside you. Once they were out, he headed back over to the bed. “You want to continue?”

He was so thoughtful of your feelings and, as mortified as you were, there was no way you were passing up this opportunity to finally sleep with the guy you were obsessed with.

RORY MONAHAN

Your legs were spread wide on the four poster bed as Rory devoured your pussy like a man starved. His tongue licked broad stripes along your slick folds, groaning at the taste of you. He couldn’t get enough – small flicks of his tongue against your clit were sending you into a frenzy, your body writhing under his skilled tongue. His hands gripped your hips, pressing you down into the mattress to say in place.

“Shit, babe. You’re so fucking hot. Could do this all day. Fuck working with Brad Pitt. This is so much better,” Rory grinned up at you from between your legs. The sight of him with your juices over his lips was probably the hottest thing you’d ever seen. He dived back in, his tongue plunging into your entrance. Your hands tangled into his red hair, body arching as his name fell from your lips like a chant. It wasn’t long before you felt yourself teetering on the edge, his lips sucking on your clit.

However, the second you started seeing stars and moaning out, the door opened and in stepped Audrey. You pushed Rory’s head away from you. He narrowed his eyes at you until he turned and saw his ex-wife stood there. “Oh, shit,” he tried to roll off the bed but instead got himself tangled up in the sheets, falling to the floor. As awful as the whole situation was, you couldn’t help but laugh to yourself.

“Audrey, I’m so sorry,” you said, scrambling to cover yourself up.

“Always knew he wanted someone younger.” With that Audrey left. Rory managed to get back to his feet, throwing himself on the bed on top of you.

His lips ghosted over yours, a shit eating grin on his face. “I think she’s mad.”

taglist (ask to be added or removed): @ldydeath @jazz-berry @lemoniiiiiii @bohnerrific69 @lacucarachapisser @evanpetersbf

[soaps-mohawk]

The Unicorn

Kyletober Day 8: Frottage

Summary: You were hesitant at first until he proved himself. Now you just like watching.

Pairing: Kyle x John x John’s wife!reader

Word Count: 1,133 words

Warnings: brief fear of cheating at the beginning, Frottage, badly written handjobs, a couple and their unicorn, fingering, mention of munch!Kyle

A/N: This one was fun to write...you'll see why hehe

MASTERLIST

He's cheating. 

That had been the first thought that came to mind when your husband sat you down to have a conversation. He'd just returned from months of being away, and you knew he was going to drop the bomb. There was someone else, someone younger and prettier he met halfway across the world on deployment. 

What you hadn't been expecting was for him to come out as bisexual. After years and years of marriage he'd never even once hinted at it, much less told you. Then again, you know sometimes it takes time to notice and accept these things. You wouldn't have guessed though, your rough and manly husband who chops wood and works on cars and goes fishing is also interested in men? 

Never judge a book by its cover, they say. 

What had shocked you even more was his admission that he met a man he was interested in. Fear had spiked in your heart, thinking he was going to divorce you for this man, but what he said next shocked you almost more than him coming out. 

He wasn't going to leave you, he wanted to bring this man into your relationship. 

You had been hesitant at first, worried that he might wiggle his way into your husband’s heart and you’d wind up divorced anyway. 

Then you met Kyle. 

You’ve never been so glad you decided to try. 

Your thighs are slick as you watch them, a tangle of limbs and tongues. You're seated on the lounge in the corner of the room, watching your husband and his toy. Your thighs are still trembling slightly from the near mind-numbing orgasm Kyle had given you with his mouth a few minutes ago. 

Your husband is currently cleaning the remnants of it off Kyle’s face with his tongue. 

You're nowhere near satisfied, your pussy starting to throb again as you watch them. Kyle's hands are resting on your husband's soft waist, the prominent bulges in their briefs pressed tight together. Kyle moans into John's mouth as he pushes his hips against Kyle's, their cocks rubbing together through the fabric. 

“Bloody christ.” John groans as Kyle kisses down his neck, focusing on the spot behind his ear. You taught Kyle all of John's favorite spots, all the places that drive him crazy. 

“Fuck...” Kyle hisses as John grinds against him. 

“Let me see that pretty cock.” John growls, pushing Kyle back just slightly. 

You bite back a moan as Kyle pushes his briefs down his legs, that cute, pert ass on display from your angle. His cock stands at attention, longer than he is thick, but John makes up plenty for that. His cock is thick and heavy where it sits between his thighs. Your pussy flutters as you stare at them, two beautiful men so very different and yet so much alike. 

Kyle takes John's cock in his hand, pumping it as he steps closer. You half expect him to drop to his knees, but instead he steps right up to John, closing his hand around both of their cocks. You watch captivated as Kyle rubs their cocks together, his long fingers wrapped around both. Their eyes are locked, lips parted as they both breathe heavily. 

“So fucking pretty.” John groans, cupping the back of Kyle’s neck. “Look at you.” 

Kyle sinks his teeth into his lip, his head tilting back into John’s hand. You shift in the lounge, putting your feet up on the ottoman to give yourself room. There’s a painful throb between your legs as you watch them, your fingers slipping down between your thighs to try and ease that ache a bit. 

John tilts his head down, a glob of spit landing on their cocks. Kyle’s hand spreads it across their skin as he continues to pump their cocks, his hand picking up speed. You match his speed with your fingers on your clit, your pussy already wet and pulsing just from watching them together. 

“Fuck, fuck,” Kyle groans. “Feels so fucking good.” 

John leans forward, pressing their foreheads together, both of them staring down at their cocks as Kyle rubs them together. They’re a sight, the two of them. John is always the dominant one, and Kyle is always willing to sub for him. He trusts John on a level you can’t quite understand because you’re so separated from their world. It’s different from the trust you have with your husband, but perhaps that’s why the three of you work so perfectly.

Kyle lifts his gaze, staring into John’s eyes. His kiss-plump lips are parted as he moans, the sound like a sweet music harmonizing with John’s own deep, breathy groans. You sink your teeth into your lip to hold in your own as you sink two fingers into yourself, easing off your clit to delay an orgasm. You don’t want to distract them from this moment, you don’t want to pull them away from each other. Not yet. 

Kyle’s hand speeds up even faster, his hips rolling in time with his thrusts. “Fuck, fuck.” He moans, dropping his head to rest it on John’s shoulder. 

John grips his hips, both of them thrusting into Kyle’s hand. They’re close, the telltale needy breathiness pitching their moans higher. Your own fingers curl around the arm of the chair, the wet squelch of your fingers hidden under the wet sound of their cocks. You can imagine them coated in precum, slick and shiny as they get closer and closer to their orgasms. 

“Gonna cum.” Kyle moans, his words muffled against John’s shoulder. 

“Cum for me.” John grunts, cupping the back of Kyle’s head again. 

Kyle’s whole body shudders, his hips jerking as he cums, the white fluid leaking from his tip to coat his hand. John follows almost immediately after, a long groan leaving his lips as his hips press against Kyle’s hand. It’s such a tender moment, both of them breathing heavily, leaning against each other as Kyle’s hand slows to a stop, milking every last drop they can give. John eases Kyle’s head up off his shoulder, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. It speaks volumes of their care and love for each other. 

John leans forward to whisper something in his ear, Kyle’s lips lifting in a smirk. They both turn to look at you as John leans back, your face warm as they meet your gaze. Your legs close around your hand as you sit there, the energy in the room shifting. 

“Not quite done yet, are we, sweetheart?” John says, his gaze darkening as he looks at you. 

No, you’re not. 

To be notified about new fics, please follow HERE and turn on notifications

[arminsumi]

22 with toji? >___< i love mamaguro but sometimes i be thinkingggg..

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

𝐇𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐥 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦

A/N: ughhh ikr 🤤😔 ik this goes without saying (hopefully) but y'all don't cheat 😵‍💫 read fiction about ur fave anime boys cheating with u instead lmao

Wc ≈ 800

Pairing: TOJI Fushiguro x f.reader

Summary: you and Toji getting up to no good in your favorite hotel room

Warnings; 🔞 mdni, smut, infidelity, pns (baby, slut, bitch) cheating kink, slight size kink, nasty dirty talk, slightly mean/rough Toji, taking condom off (mutually consensual), breeding kink, slight hairpulling, one ass slap (why is it always just ONE lmao), kinda rough/manhandling but not rlly, daddy kink, prone bone/from the back, lmk if i have missed anything <3

♪ i keep going back to this hotel room...

Damn you, he thinks while squeezing himself into a condom that’s very slightly too small for his size.

You’re to blame – to blame for being spellbinding, bewitching, entrancing, irresistible, alluring… he never thought about straying until you showed up one day in the office, pretty smile and naughty glint in your eyes.

“Fuck me…” he seethes when he sinks into your tight pussy – so happily spreading your legs for him on the hotel bed. With how many times you two have come and gone through this room on weekends, you’re pretty sure the receptionist has figured out what happens behind those closed doors.

“ ‘s so fucking sexy when you arch your back like that for me, pretty thing.” Toji grunts, splitting you wide open on his cock. “ ‘missed me?” he asks cheekily, feeling how much you’re gushing for him after such simple touching earlier – he had kissed you like he was starved of the taste of your lips, touched you like he’s never laid hands on a female form before. It made sense why he acted so needy, you hadn’t seen him for two weekends straight after all.

“Mhm! Missed you so much…” you moan into the pillow, bringing your hands down to spread your pussylips so you can take his cock better.

His cockhead always glides in so nicely, but halfway in his length got so thick that your pussy just spat his cock out. He always chuckles when it does.

“ ‘been too long, baby, ‘gotta stretch out that pussy all over again. Make it remember daddy’s cock.”

Toji tightly pins your waist down into the mattress, just feeling a fraction of his strength turns you on. Yeah, you’ve met strong guys before – but Toji was fucking strong. He could toss you into any position he wanted, he could make you feel weightless at times.

Those calloused hands know your body better than your own. He knows which sweet spots to his to make you cream, what pace makes you claw at his biceps, what dirty talk makes you cum. He knows everything about your body. He almost doesn’t wanna admit it, but he knows your body better than his own wife’s.

“Fuckin’ slut, look at you going dumb on my dick already. Keep it together, we just started.” He chuckled meanly, giving your ass an encouraging smack to bring you back to earth. “What? ‘This position too much for you?” he asked rhetorically – because he knew damn well that you couldn’t handle him pressing his weight onto you from behind like this.

“Nooo, I can take it!” you squeak, biting the hotel pillow as you hug it for support. He always feels so good that you need some form of comfort. The feeling of his fat tip nudging against your sweet spot and throbbing there makes you say some nasty shit that makes him smirk. “Fuuuck – just fuck me alre – fuuuck, mhm! Like that! Like that!” you sob into the pillow when he fulfils your wishes and pounds into you from behind like an animal.

He grabs a fistful of your hair and gently pulls your head back, making his lips meet your ear – scar grazing against your skin. “Don’t go all quiet on me. I know how fucking nasty you are – what’ve you been wanting to tell me huh? I know you missed me bad.”

His cockhead hits the spot that makes you spill the truth. “Fuuuck – daddy fuck me like I’m yours.” You said, “F-fuck me like I’m your wife.”

“Shit… dirty fuckin’ bitch, you talk like that and you’re gonna make me cum.” He breathes heavily into your ear, sweat already beading off his abdomen with his intensely he’s rutting into you. “You really like me, huh? Haha, yeah, I know – it’s so cute. So cute that you cum so much on this cheating cock. Uh-huh, don’t get shy on me now – we both know we get off on that. Just be honest with yourself – there we go, that wasn’t so hard to admit, was it?”

He groans, big arms entangling with your body. You can feel his muscles twitching, you can smell the scent of his cologne and sweat and sex all mixing in the air. And him? He’s burying his head into the crook of your neck to inhale your scent. Your perfume drives him nuts, it makes him dizzy like he’s some lovesick teenager.

Everything he holds back from telling you, he admits when he’s pussy-drunk and about to cum. “Fuck, sweet thing, ‘wanna give you a baby. D’you want that? Yeah? F-fuck really? You sure? You want my babies? Shit alright, I’ll give you a fucking baby t’night. Don’t tell her it’s mine.” He said, tugging his cock out of your pussy despite your walls hugging him like they were trying to keep him in there forever.

You reach behind you and pull off the condom yourself, and he just watches, half-drooling at the sight, before plunging back inside you and doing what he promised – giving you his babies.

[crazyoffher]

BREATHLESS.

summary: jenna's jealousy gets the best of her.

warnings: smut (18+) — rough sex, strap-on referred to as "cock", fingering, slapping, slight dirty talk, jealousy, implied continuing sex, slight teasing, dom!jenna + sub!reader.

word amount: 2400+

a/n: hi.

It took about one hour, three drinks, and unconsciously flirting with someone else for Jenna to dismiss you both, dragging you to the upstairs bathroom in the house and bending you over the sink to fuck you deep and hard with a strap-on.

The party was more of an afterparty, celebrating the premiere of Scream 7 that you had attended with your girlfriend, Jenna, not long ago. You both played characters in the movie that survived, Jenna’s being a recurring character while yours was new, finding love with the smaller girl during filming and leading you to the happiness that you never thought you’d find.

Ten minutes prior to finding yourself in a rather pleasurable position in the bathroom, you were sitting around an extended couch with the main Scream cast, talking and chatting as if you were all high school friends that hadn’t seen one another in years. The root of Jenna’s soon-to-come rage started with another new character’s actor, Jeremiah, that your character dated until the reveal of his character being one of the killers.

“(Y/N)!” He called from the other side of the couch, a disgruntled expression on his face that formed upon seeing you cuddled up with Jenna. Your head rested on her shoulder while her arm was wrapped around your shoulders, and he quickly covered up his expression and replaced it with a rather enthusiastic one, but Jenna caught it.

She caught every expression he gave you, seemingly only making it obvious to herself and nobody else that the boy had a crush on you. He hid it well, but not well enough to bypass Jenna’s hardening gaze she sent his way when she’d find him staring at you from afar. 

Or when he’d get a little too close for comfort, his arm brushing up against yours while he eyed you with a gaze filled with nothing but love when you rambled on about a topic.

Jenna fucking hated Jeremiah.

She trusted you with her life, knowing you’d never leave her, cheat on her, get mad at her for a stupid reason, nothing. You were the light that led her from the darkness, but God, did she wish that you weren’t so oblivious sometimes? She hoped day by day that you’d notice how Jeremiah acted toward you and immediately shut him down, but that day hadn’t come yet.

Instead, you unconsciously leaned into his flirtatious remarks as your conversation furthened, not seeing them as short-indirect advances and shooting back with words he took to heart. Jenna’s blood boiled. She knew you had no idea what flirtatious situations you found yourself in with him, but it didn’t help her urge to fuck you in front of everybody to show them all that you were hers. Hers only.

So instead, she did the next best thing and excused the two of you, her hand firmly digging into your wrist as she brought you upstairs and into the bathroom. “Jenna, are you alr-”

“Shhh.” She shushed you, closing the door behind you and locking it with a click before taking you into a bruising kiss. Your back met the door with force; Jenna’s hands were digging under your shirt and roaming your skin. Her fingers flicked over your breasts, and you let out a rather embarrassing groan at the simple touch, which only spurred her on. Her hands gripped the entirety of your breasts while she redirected her lips to your neck.

You pulled away in desperation for air, eyes blown as you stared wildly at your heaving girlfriend. “Baby, are you okay?”

“No time for me to answer that.” Her voice was husky, and her hands almost ripped your shirt off as she pushed it over your head. Jenna tossed the clothing item aside, her hands quickly sliding their way to your back to undo your bra, and your nipples hardened from exposure to the cold air when she slid the covering fabric off of you.

“Tell me,” she started off, two of her fingers moving to roll your nipples, and you let out a large breath at the sensation. You’d always been sensitive when it came to your breasts, and Jenna never wasted the advantage she had to use that part of you whenever she’d overstimulate you.

“Who do you belong to?”

“¿Qué diablos?” You pulled your head back, creating space between you and Jenna, and her eyebrows furrowed at you. “Huh?”

You sighed, being the bilingual one out of the two of you, and craned your neck to the side slightly. “Why are you being possessive? I don-” Jenna's lips on yours again, her hands messing with the belt strapped to your pants, cut your rambling short. She slid the belt through the hooks on your jeans, bunching it up and tossing it where your shirt and bra sat, and your underwear soon joined the mess on the floor.

“You don’t understand how badly he wants you, don’t you?” Her lips moved from your lips to your neck, sucking directly over your pulse point. A jolt of what felt like electricity shot down to your core, the sensation too pleasurable, though you fought back, “Who is ‘he’?”

“Jeremiah.” Jenna’s reply was simple: her lips removing from your neck. She kneeled down before you, hands placed on your hips, while those big, brown, wide-gazed innocent eyes looked up at you. A small smirk tugged at her lips, and you could only let out a small huff at his name, words piling in your throat but sticking to come out.

One of her hands that sat on your hips slid their way to the outline of your core, teasingly sliding her fingers around your sensitive area. You bit your lip, fiercely trying to contain a whine from the teases. “Baby, I don’t think he likes me. We’ve been through this.”

“I know we have.” Jenna pressed a small kiss to the side of your stomach, using that as a movement to catch you off guard when she slid her thumb through your folds, pressing down against your clit. You sucked in a breath, releasing a disgruntled noise when she started to slowly rub the nub in circles. “But you’re just too oblivious to see that he wants you badly. Never as badly as I’ll ever need you, though.”

“Jen-”

“But you just don’t listen, so I guess I’ll have to fuck the obliviousness out of you, yeah?” In quick maneuvers, Jenna stood up and grabbed your waist, giving you a dark look before forcefully turning you around to where your back was to her front. You gulped at the feeling of your ass brushing against something hard, realizing what was strapped to her hips inside her pants, and your mind filled with excitement.

Jenna pushed her index and middle fingers into your cunt with ease, her demanding words turning you on more than you knew and enabling her to fuck your tight, wet hole with ease. You let out a choked-out, breathy moan. In spite of knowing that she was making you feel wonderful, she went rough, the sound of your slick against her fingers making her own mind dizzy.

“Please.” You whined out, hands gripping the sink countertop, when Jenna bent your upper body over to dig her fingers deeper into you. Your head hung low, high-pitched whimpers filling the room with the mixture of Jenna’s fingers pumping in and out of you and the bulge in her pants purposefully rubbing around your core.

“Come on, baby.” Jenna’s body was bent over yours, whispering dirty nothings into your ear and taking pleasure in the way your face rapidly contorted into different expressions. “You gonna cum for me, honey?”

You couldn’t form words, already trying your hardest not to release the loudest moans known to mankind to alert your friend group downstairs, so you dumbly nodded. The feeling that you grew used to—the burning feeling in your stomach—burned hotter and hotter with each pump of Jenna’s fingers. 

“That’s too bad, honey.” Just as quickly as the pleasure came, it left, and you couldn’t hold back the whine that left your mouth at the feeling of your hole being empty. A harsh slap came to your ass a second later, causing your body to jolt from both the pain and pleasure, and you hung your head lower.

“Don’t whine at me.” Jenna spoke shortly, though firmly, and she sent another slap to your ass, the skin turning a bright red. “You should be grateful I don’t plan on leaving you edged.” One more slap was sent to your skin, but this time it was to your wet pussy. You let out a small whine at the action, and Jenna slapped the area once more. Veins popped out of your neck at the self-control you managed, keeping in your whines at that slap and instead releasing a harsh breath.

“Good girl,” Her voice purred, and you could’ve came from just her words; the way her tone was low and smooth sent an eerie spark to your spine. The tight grip you formerly had on the sink returned, and you felt the head of the silicone cock rubbing up against your entrance.

“Shit, shit.” The cock sank in deeper, stretching you out profusely from it’s girth, and you could feel every fake vein on the cock as it trapped itself in your velvet-colored walls. Soon enough, Jenna’s hip met your ass, and she halted her movements for one second, helping you adjust to the girth—and length—of the silicone deep inside of you.

She always chose her biggest, just for you.

Her movements were slow; she thrust slowly, almost unsure if you were comfortable due to the emptiness of your voice.

“Faster, please.” Her assurance was placed down, and the girl bit her lip in eagerness. The grip on your hips became more firm, with nails digging into your skin and creating crescent-shaped indents on the area. In one swift motion, she drew her hips back, leaving only the head of the cock in before thrusting it’s entire length back into you roughly.

You let out a moan that sounded as if it came out of a pornstar's mouth, too sure in your mind that somebody from downstairs had heard the noise. It’s not like you cared anymore; your mind and body were too occupied by the pace at which Jenna’s thrusts had grown.

She was giving you a deep, rough fuck while adoring the way your face appeared—eyes closed, mouth open, and emitting a mixture of moans and whines. “God,” Jenna bent herself over your back, taking a hand off from your hip to grip your face roughly.

“Look at yourself, so needy and submissive, all for me.” You were greeted by Jenna's lust-filled, glaring eyes when you faced the mirror. “Taking all of my cock so well.” If it was even possible, she grunted as she pounded into you more forcefully so she could see the way your eyes closed, uttering long, drawn-out groans.

Her eyes trailed all over your body, noticing how your back twitched through every thrust, and a big grin drew itself over her face. “So close to cumming already, baby?” Her light laugh echoed in your ears; you could feel your ears turning pink in embarrassment, letting out a drawful whine when her hand snaked under your figure to circle your clit.

“Fuck.” Jenna groaned herself, only now noticing how her orgasm was building up through the strap hitting her clit with each thrust, and now she wanted nothing more than to chase it.

Her hands rejoiced on your hips, and you let out a squeal when you were effortlessly turned over and pushed up to sit on the sink, the silicone cock never leaving it’s place inside you. Two lips met in a searing kiss, your hands snaking through Jenna’s hair to bring her closer as her thrusts began once more.

“Oh my god,” she muttered, eyes trained on your body. Her eyes watched as, with every deep thrust, the cock's head poked through your stomach. A hand found itself on your skin, pushing into the bulge of your stomach. You let out a groan, finding more pain in that movement than pleasure. Seeing your discomfort, Jenna removed her hand, trailing it around your jaw and muttering an apology before taking you in for another kiss.

It wasn't long before Jenna felt the burning rage of an inner coil wanting to snap, her mouth wide open, as she fucked into you with even more angst. She rubbed your clit in circles with more force than her thrusts, trailing her thumb in a desperate effort to get you hotter. You let out a deep moan, your hands flying to Jenna’s shoulders to keep yourself from falling due to your failing limbs.

You whined. “Fuck, Jenna, I’m gonna cum.” The moment your orgasm finally came, you flung your head into Jenna's neck crook and bit down on the skin there, causing her to groan. She continued thrusting for another second before she felt her own legs start to tremble, her hand grabbing hold of the back of your head as her head fell on top of yours, and she moaned into your hair.

You both lingered there for a short while, savoring the pleasure's afterglow, before finally separating and taking a breath. Jenna gave you a soft kiss on the top of your head while gently running her hand through your hair. “Are you still oblivious, honey?”

Your head fell from her neck to her shoulder, muttering a small “no”, and Jenna laughed at your tired state.

“Oh, honey, you can’t be tired yet.” Your head lazily drew itself up, turning to face her with your eyebrows furrowed, foreshowing your confusion. “What do you mean?”

“He’s still downstairs, is he not? When we see him on our way out, you can only trust my words when I say that I plan on doing much more to you in the car.”

☟

taglist: @grandpatrolnut @annalestern @rhythm-catsandwine @yara124 @daryldixonsw1fe @alexkolax @red1culous @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @n0vabug @idkwimdtbh @yolehiho

[libingan]

— wolf’s den. (3)

summary: after finding yourself lost in the forest, you accidentally stumble across a wolf’s den. unfortunately for you, his intentions are dark and possessive—he's chosen you to be his mate, dragging you into a nightmarish world where escape seems impossible.

cw: kidnapping, dark content, noncon/dubcon, wolf hybrid! ghost x bunny hybrid! reader, sex is mentioned lol

a/n: i keep forgetting to add the fuckin summary yall HAHSHWSHW this chapter is p short bc i got errands to run and i wanted to finish my idea before i went out

i alr have the entire story plotted out, it has five chapters lololol

part two | part four

simon's relentless determination became a daily ordeal. every night, and often during the day, he would take you, his desire insatiable, his possessiveness unyielding. he claimed you whenever he wanted, wherever he wanted, showing no regard for your feelings or your pleas. the wolf hybrid had you in every position imaginable, on every surface of the house. the bed, the kitchen table, the floor, even against the walls – no place was off-limits. each encounter left you more exhausted and hopeless than the last.

you found yourself falling into a routine, your days blending into a cycle of submission and survival. simon’s dominance was overwhelming, his presence a constant reminder of your captivity. the way he looked at you, his intense gaze always watching, always assessing, sent shivers down your spine. his touch, though rough and possessive, had a way of igniting a primal part of you, a part that you despised.

your feelings were a whirlwind of confusion and despair. you hated him for what he was doing to you, for the way he had taken away your freedom. yet, a small part of you, the part that craved touch and connection, found itself responding to his relentless advances. you felt disgusted with yourself, your mind and body at war with each other.

it wasn’t long before you started noticing changes in your body. nausea in the mornings, heightened sensitivity to smells, and an unfamiliar heaviness settling in your lower abdomen. you knew the signs all too well – you were pregnant. the realization sent a wave of fear through you. the idea of carrying simon’s pups, of raising his children, was too much to bear.

the days stretched into a monotonous blur. you spent your time tending to the chores simon assigned you, his voice a constant, commanding presence in your life. “clean this,” he’d say, his tone leaving no room for argument. “cook me something to eat.” his orders were simple, but the way he delivered them, the way he watched you with that predatory gaze, made your skin crawl.

you had learned to grow accustomed to his routines, his expectations. despite how helpless you felt, you had to survive. there were moments when you almost forgot the fear, when you focused solely on the tasks at hand, blocking out everything else. but then simon would touch you, his hands rough and demanding, and the reality of your situation would come crashing back.

desperation clawed at you as you tried to find a way out. you couldn’t live like this, couldn’t subject your future offspring to the same fate. you had to escape, for their sake and yours. you waited for the right moment, for simon to leave on one of his hunting trips, your heart pounding with a mixture of fear and determination.

the day finally came. simon left early, his usual routine, and you knew this was your chance. you packed what little you could carry, your hands trembling as you moved swiftly and silently. every creak of the floorboards, every rustle of the trees outside, made your heart skip a beat. you couldn’t afford to be caught this time.

you slipped out of the house, your bunny ears twitching with every sound, your heart pounding in your chest. the forest seemed darker, more foreboding than before, but you pressed on, driven by a desperate need for freedom. you ran, your breath coming in ragged gasps, your legs aching with the effort.

hours passed, the forest blurring around you as you pushed forward. you didn’t stop until you were sure you had put enough distance between yourself and simon’s den. you collapsed against a tree, your body trembling with exhaustion and relief. you were free. for now.

simon returned home to an unsettling silence. his senses immediately told him something was wrong. he called out for you, his voice echoing through the empty house. there was no response. his heart raced as he began searching each room, his movements becoming more frantic with each empty space he found.

“where the fuck are you?” he growled, his temper rising. the realization that you had escaped dawned on him slowly, his anger boiling over. he tore through the house, overturning furniture, breaking anything in his path. his fury was palpable, a dangerous storm brewing within him.

by the time he reached the final room, his patience had snapped. he stood amidst the wreckage, his breath coming in harsh pants, his fists clenched at his sides. you were gone, and he knew he couldn’t easily find you in the vast expanse of the forest. he roared in frustration, the sound echoing through the empty house, a promise that he wouldn’t stop until he found you.

you might have escaped for now, but simon riley was a relentless hunter. and he would never rest until he had his mate back in his grasp.

[jasmines-library]

A request where Batsibling reader is sick and can’t think straight and stuff and only wants Cassandra ? They’re also related to her and her younger sibling? Also younger then Damian

Flu Season

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

Of course you can! This is a gn!reader

Warnings: Sickness, Flu

Word Count: 0.7k

⛧ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛧

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

A fit of coughs sounded through the hallway. They had been echoing across the walls for the last few hours as you tossed and turned restlessly throughout the night. No sleep came to you. Your entire body ached, your nose ran and your head pounded as your stomach churned. It was safe to say that you were ill. Something had been going around your class at school. A few people had disappeared with a sniffle for a couple of days before returning right as rain. At first, you thought you had avoided it, but then it came barreling into you with the force of a truck. You had a high fever that caused a sheen of sweat to bead on your brow and your body to shiver. 

Alfred had been tending to you. His eyes were tired and weary, but he continued to stay by you nevertheless. But you continued to weep, salty tears inching down your cheeks as you tossed and turned in your haze.

You muttered her name like a mantra on your tongue. Your arm outstretched, you tried to reach blindly for her, wishing for her to just pull you into her arms and hold you close. Even though you and Cass didn’t have a lot when you were growing up, she had always been there for you. Whenever you were sick, or scared, she would scoop you up in her arms and tuck your head under her chin as she cradled you. That continued once Bruce adopted you, and all of the other kids adored seeing the two of you together. But now, when you needed her, Cassandra was nowhere to be seen in the manor. It was her turn on patrol. So when another whisper of her name fell from your chapped lips, Alred tried to shush you with a gentle reassurance.”

“Shh, Mx Cain.” Alfred brushed the hair away from your eyes. “She will be here soon, I promise.”

You whined, curling up into yourself. 

~

As soon as Cassandra’s patrol finished she was rushing back to the manor. Her feet slapped against the road as she made her way quickly to you. Dick had notified her over the comms of your state. She had noticed you sniffling a little recently, but it seemed as if the flu had overtaken you very quickly. She had been told of your restlessness and how you had practically refused help from anyone else, repeating her name. So she moved quickly, racing back towards the manor. 

When she barged through the door, Cass had barely shed her suit before she was pattering up the stairs, skipping half of the steps to get there just that little bit faster. Pushing open the heavy door, Cass frowned as soon as she saw you. She immediately noticed the dark bags under your eyes from your lack of sleep and from the hair stuck to your head. She noted the way that you held on tightly to your blanket to try and keep warm despite your body running feverishly. 

With a hushed tone, she made her way into the room and crouched down next to your bedside, gripping your hand gently. You twisted your head to look at her, smiling slightly with your glazed over eyes. 

“Cass?”

“Hey kiddo.” She murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your fingers. “You feeling rough?”

You nodded, burying yourself further into the blankets. 

With a nod to Alfred, he slipped out of the room and left you with Cass.

“Cassie?” You murmured.

She hummed in response, brushing over your knuckles with the pad of her thumb. 

“Lay with me?” You sniffled. 

Cassandra nodded. “Of course kiddo.”

Clambering around you, she tucked you close to her chest, placing her head atop of yours. Your body immediately relaxed into hers, feeling much safer now you had your big sister’s arms wrapped around you. 

“Try and rest now, kiddo.” She pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I’ve got you .”

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

BATFAM TAGS

@aestheticdaisies @hearts4robs @xxrougefangxx @mamapucket @hell-o-kittys @harleycao

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Surprise Pt. 3 | Soap x Reader

Summary: The boys get called out to a mission after you get injured during a game, and your past finally catches up to you.

Word Count: ~ 4k

Warnings: minor character death, guns, blood, injuries, lil bit of angst, ptsd, panic attacks, episodes, and yeah

A/N: alr I’m kinda making it up as I go, but I feel like I’m slowly getting better at making accented dialogue…hope you enjoy<3 (also thinking of making it gaz x reader x soap, or just johnny?? lmk what u think)

Requests are open!

Previous | Masterlist | Next

The longer they stayed in your home, still keeping eyes out for any of the terrorists in the area, the more they noticed some of your odd quirks.

Simon was the first to notice many of them, due to his years of experience in the military, and all of the skills he’d acquired during that time. He observed every little thing, whether it be on purpose or unconsciously.

Like how you always locked your door after entering or leaving, both locks as well. Not just one. Or the way your windows remained shut and locked, dark curtains pulled over most of them to block out any light or keep someone from looking in.

There was a knife under your pillow, and a small gun in the drawer of your nightstand. Simon would know, he’d searched the entire house when they’d first arrived, not sure if he could trust you or not. You had a gun safe in your room’s closet, and the screws on your room’s hinges were slightly unscrewed, as were every door in the house, so it would creak every so slightly when opened. So you could locate everyone in the house.

It reminded him of his habits a bit too much.

But you also had a kernel of authority to you, despite sometimes mumbling instead of speaking clearly, or the tiniest of nervous ticks he could notice, like how your lips would twitch left when unsure or insecure. Despite your stone-faced look now, you still had a few of the same tells that the little girl he’d known all those years ago did.

He only wondered what had happened to that little girl.

But he knew she’d grown up. And what he saw in you now wasn’t what he recalled from the girl he’d threatened in the past, the girl he’d intimidated and scared into staying away. Because now, you didn’t seem afraid of him at all. Not afraid of his comrades, either.

You were different in more than a few ways, now. He knew foster care had been rough on you, with god knows how many families taking you in only for money or being abusive. He barely knew the general timeline of how long you’d been in it. He’d heard tiny bits of it you’d offhandedly mentioned, and you seemed to have found a more permanent home at 12, staying until moving out here, looking for what most teenagers are, a meaning and some freedom.

But he hadn’t known just how rough it had been.

You’d gotten home from work looking beat one night, wearing some jeans, a uniform shirt, a belt, and per usual a holster for your gun. You always insisted on carrying it, and he didn’t blame you. Bad things happened to girls who lived alone here.

You didn’t even take any time to eat or change before walking into your room and collapsing into bed, asleep in a second. Work always seemed to tire you out, for whatever reason, but maybe they had you doing all kinds of shit he didn’t know waitresses did. Who was he to assume?

“She should eat dinner, at least.” Price said, watching from the couch as Johnny pouted slightly. He’d cooked a meal, especially for you, albeit Gaz had done most of the work and helped him out, basically making the entire dish, poor Soap had been waiting all day to try it.

“I can go get her?”

Kyle suggested, and Simon’s deep rumbling voice spoke up next, glancing over to your closed door, a neat “Do not enter.” sign on the front.

“She don’t like when people go in ‘er room.”

“Well, she’s breakin’ poor Soap’s heart.”

“She’s yer sister, why don’t you go get the lass.”

“She’d beat his ass, that’s why.”

Simon gave an exasperated sigh, getting up from where he’d been sitting next to Price, watching a soccer game. He approached your door, slowly opening it as it creaked. The lights were off, the room completely dark as the windows were also covered by the thick curtains you kept.

You’d made it clear that no one was allowed in your room before, but it looked normal to him. The walls were a shade of your favorite color, or what he assumed was, fairy lights with clips on them holding pictures of you and friends, and even a picture from years ago of the family, hanging from wall to wall. There was a desk at the front, papers thrown about and some neatly arranged. The clothes basket smelled vaguely of an irony tang he didn’t bother to investigate at the time.

A mirror hung on the other end of the door.

Walking quietly up to you, he watched you for a moment. Your body was deathly still, breathing quietly but a bit shaky. He could see your eyes moving beneath your eyelids, the movements erratic and frantic.

Despite himself, Simon found himself intrigued by the papers on your desk. Why had you bothered to keep them out of your room? What were you hiding? His military career kept him on his toes at all times and kept him suspicious of everyone.

After all, it was the people you trusted that could hurt you the most.

Walking silently over to your desk, he began going through papers. Gaz and Soap, now both watching through the doorway, made little hushed whispers of “Wha’ are you doing??” and “Jus’ wake ‘er up-“ that he ignored. The papers were all basic, nothing interesting.

Essays, research papers, lots of notes. But just when he thought he wouldn’t find anything, he slid open one drawer as it creaked slightly as well, finding files in it. Paper, Manila folders that were thick with information that he found himself curious about. However, just when he reached for the first one, he heard Johnny.

“Behind ye, Lt-“

The cold metal of a gun against the side of his head became more than apparent as someone kicked the backs of his knees in. A gun to his head, on his knees, with Gaz and Soap now in the room, hands up, carefully trying to approach him.

“Easy, lass. We ain’t gonna hurt ya..”

Johnny tried, and that was when Simon realized it wasn’t some enemy terrorist who had gotten in who was holding him at gunpoint, no, it was you. He hadn’t even heard you approach. Hadn’t heard you get out of bed or move at all.

But he did hear the hammer of the gun click back.

The first thought he had was that he was being betrayed. Double-crossed. Either that or you were having some sort of episode. Price approached the door, watching you like a wounded animal. Unlike Simon, he could see the way your eyes weren’t there, that you were somewhere else, in an entirely different world, doing what you thought was right.

Price slowly approached, bolder than both of the Sergeants, but with a practiced precision. He’d done this before. They could tell.

“Can you tell me who you’re pointin’ a gun at?”

He asked, voice unwavering and not full of pity, but instead understanding. He watched your eyes slowly trail from the gun to Simon, now completely still, and held a hand for Gaz and Soap to stay where they were. He could tell when the realization slowly began dawning on you, that you weren’t in danger, and that this was Simon.

A tiny click, the safety being switched on, before you took the gun from Simon’s head and set it on the floor, kicking it away from you to Price. Usually, you wouldn’t sleep with a gun on your person for this reason. By the time you would open the nightstand to grab it, you’d usually have already snapped out of it.

Sighing deeply, you slumped on the floor beside Simon as he slowly relaxed, and you curled up into a ball. You didn’t say anything, and neither did they. Price took the gun, standing and walking out of the room, giving a nod to Gaz and jerking his head to Soap as the Captain and Johnny left the room.

Kyle remained nearby, just in case, but didn’t say anything.

“Didn’ know you had it in ya to hold a gun to my head,” Simon said, trying for a bit of humor to make you laugh, or even hear a snort in reply, or even a snarky comment about how stupid he was. When you didn’t do anything, he silently sighed.

“How often do you have ‘em?”

“Every night.”

He made a small grunt at that. He could understand nightmares a bit too well, considering the demons of his own he had. He put an arm slowly around you, and when you didn’t stiffen, he considered it okay as he slowly stood, picking you up. However, as soon as he picked you up, you mumbled something under your breath and squirmed free, standing on your own.

“Let’s get ya some fresh air.”

He said, leading you out of the room. He took one last glance at the open file drawer and decided that you had your secrets, and he had his, and it could stay like that until either of you was ready to change it.

~

Nothing had changed since that night, other than one thing.

No one tried to wake you up again.

However, you remained as sassy and slightly stoic as usual, still caring for them, and now savoring every one of Johnny’s dinners to make up for the one you’d missed that night.

When they showed up covered in blood, sweat, and tears, you would take it in stride, patching them up and grumbling about buying more medical supplies, washing their clothes, and buying razors for them because, “A beard does not suit any of you but Price.” You’d even bought food they liked, albeit making them cough up some money for it, because of the job you had at some little restaurant they’d never heard of before as a waitress. You only really worked the job on some weekends, when you weren’t on a big absence for traveling during volleyball season, or at camps.

Your manager-landlord was surprisingly lenient about it, Simon thought. But considering all the weapons you had, he wouldn’t be surprised if a little threat went a long way.

He’d always wondered what you did at those volleyball games, anyway. That was until Price spoke up about it at breakfast one morning when you hadn’t left early for practice, and Laswell had eventually just informed them to lie low until further orders came.

“You oughtta come out wit’ us, get out the house a lil’.”

Johnny had suggested, and Gaz had given a little affirming nod. Simon remained silent, quietly watching as you shook your head.

“Can’t, got games today.”

You replied without even glancing up at them, eyes on your plate of scrambled eggs and bacon. That was the usual. You always had games, training, work, or school. With a schedule as busy as that, none of them knew how you managed it, but it left little to no time for you to simply relax or hang out with them.

Johnny grumbled about something with his mouth full of eggs when Price spoke up.

“Why don’ we go watch, eh? You been havin’ me help wit’ the plans, might as well.” He suggested before taking a big bite of bacon. You paused at that, glancing up at Price, studying him, before swallowing the food in your mouth.

“I’ll think about it.” Was the only answer they’d gotten at the time, but around thirty minutes before the game, you’d texted Simon the address, which was enough of a sign for him to get the boys and head over to your school, walking in the gym and paying for their entry. Six dollars for an adult, players were free.

To be fair, they tried their hardest to dress in civilian clothes and act normal, but it was hard when their instincts screamed to check every corner, keep eyes on the windows and doors, and scan for possible entries and exits.

You and your team were already practicing by then, setting up a hitting line, one setter in the front middle, two lines of hitters taking turns, and two passers in the back row bumping the ball to the setter, who promptly set it, and the hitter smacked it over.

Many of the girls were tall, and while you weren’t too short, standing at around 5’7 now, you weren’t the tallest either. That might’ve been the reason that you were mainly a back-row passer, also taking into consideration the control you held over your hits and body as well. The other team got full court to practice before the game for 2 minutes, which must’ve been the usual around this area.

“They bette’ win this,” Gaz murmured, seated to the left of Price, who watched as another girl on the team whispered something in your ear that had you biting your lip to hold back a smile. You were close with these people, they could all tell that.

“Our lass’ got it, I’m sure.”

Johnny said, watching the other team practice while Simon did the same. Simon’s attention was then diverted back to you, as any hint of laughter or amusement faded from your expression, into the stone wall he’d come to know. With a notebook in hand, you went over something with the rest of the team as they all huddled, the coach nearby and nodding along with it as they pointed something out with a pencil in hand.

A few adjustments must’ve been made before a game of rock-paper-scissors was played between the two coaches to decide who got first serve. The other team did. Already off to a disadvantage, he thought.

You all took up your positions in the court, Simon not recognizing anyone but you, with your hair, braided tightly back by one of your teammates, and the bright red jersey everyone on your team wore. You were number 14. He vaguely remembered Johnny mentioning something about you wearing a jersey in the number 14.

You were in the top right position, tucking any stray pieces of hair that had gotten loose somehow behind your ears, before all of your team was in position. The serve was hit over by the other team, and a brunette in the back row passed it to the setter, who made the ball go in a perfect arch in your direction. You began the approach of the ball, jumping up, arm held back, and ready to spike it. The blockers for the other team jumped, ready to deflect any ball, but right when you were going to spike it, your left non-hitting hand tipped the ball over the net.

Right between the blockers.

“Cleva girl,” Gaz said with a small smirk, and Soap lowly whistled. You didn’t glance up at them, expression remaining still despite the clever move.

It hit the floor, and a whistle sounded. Your team’s point. A rotation was done, and you were serving. They watched you toss the ball up, approach, jump, and smack it down all in less than 15 seconds before you were back in your spot, ready for the ball to be returned.

“Bloody hell..” Simon said, watching the two teams volley. He didn’t know many of the rules of volleyball, only Price knew most of them because of some of your late-night conversations on strategies to use with your team, but he was pretty damn sure you were doing good.

Your team moved in fluidity with each other, and it made Simon wonder what the hell you’d been putting these girls through in those training sessions, and what your coach had been doing. It reminded him a little of his team, his Task Force. The way you all knew each other, how high a set had to be for one specific person, the way one girl would slightly skew her bumps to the left, and the setter would move accordingly, or how to interweave without bumping into one another.

And the way you held everyone together… reminded him of Price the most.

When someone messed up, you didn’t yell or look disappointed, you simply glanced at them, acknowledged them, and gave a small nod. The same when someone pulled something off well. When you won the first set, you didn’t let your team gloat in the victory for too long.

And when you were losing the second set? Your teammates got a bit skittish, sure, but the way you remained almost totally unaffected kept them together. You were the glue of the team, keeping everyone out of their heads and in the game.

The second set was lost, but the third set remained.

“They play the last one to fifteen’.”

Price informed the boys after they’d sat up a little more, on the edge of their seats, bodies taught with stress. Kyle could’ve sworn Johnny was sweating a bit.

It went over fifteen, as you had to win by two points, and it was currently 15-16. One more point and the opposing team would win. But three more points and your team would.

Price’s phone began ringing.

A harsh serve from the opposite team and the bump was skewed by an anxious redhead in the back row. It went too far to the side, and you were running for it, but it looked too far away.

Two steps away.

Price was talking quietly to whoever was calling, his work voice on. Simon was too focused on you to care about the phone.

You weren’t close enough.

One knee went down closer to the ground, and your remaining foot kicked off the ground as your body dove for it.

A grim tone from the Captain as he nodded to whatever question Gaz had asked, while he ended the call.

Only a foot away.

Your hand flattened against the ground just as the ball bounced off of it, your head smacking hard against the floor.

Price muttered something to Soap, who tried nudging Simon, but didn’t get his attention, his eyes on you.

Your team played the ball off of the save, and the opposing team lost the point. The whistle was blown while the game was 16-16, mainly because you weren’t getting up. Out cold.

Simon shot to his feet, already, heading in your direction. There was red spreading on the floor, and he was back in his family home, looking down at his mother’s crumpled body, flashes of his little nephew’s bloodied corpse, and his brother’s shredded body coming into view.

He wasn’t there fast enough, he couldn’t get to you fast enough. He had failed.

Before he could go down even a single step, Price’s hand came down onto his shoulder firmly, holding him back. Grounding him. As he turned to face the Captain, Price spoke.

“It’s Laswell. Urgent, they need us.” He spoke quietly, and Ghost could only look on as they picked up your unconscious form from the floor, a part of your blond hair dyed red with the liquid oozing from it, and carried you away.

“She’ll be alright, Lt. Let’s go,” Soap said, grabbing Simon’s hand and pulling him along like a lost puppy. Gaz and Price were talking about something in front of them as they walked out.

The moment they got to the car, Price pulled their uniforms out of the trunk.

“Jus’ in case,”

He said, tossing them to each respective man, and Price drove while the rest of them changed in the car. The moment Simon slipped his mask on, he willed himself to forget about anything regarding you.

The job came first.

~

Your head was swimming and fuzzy. Your limbs refused to cooperate properly.

You recognized your bed, the dark curtains on the windows, and the smell of your room, covered in the perfume you always wore. Your vision was blurry, too blurry to simply be from sleeping.

Swallowing, you tried to sit up, only to find your throat dryer than a desert and your limbs shaky and weak. You made a small grunt when you tumbled from the bed to the floor, vision blurring more before going slightly back to normal. As normal as it could be right now.

You heard a small female gasp and your bedroom door opened with a creak. One of your closest friends from the volleyball team, Nalani, walked in, immediately going to your side.

Her brown, bronze skin reminded you of Gaz, and her long, dark intricate braids you’d always been amazed by hung in a ponytail behind her. Sure, you two might’ve fooled around a bit a few months back, but that was behind you. Behind both of you. She was a friend, just a friend, even if friends didn’t usually share beds and know how each other tasted.

But you trusted her more than most, that was for sure.

She’d seen your scars, heard what you could tell her without endangering her life, and she hadn’t backed away. She’d embraced it with you. Even on your worst days.

“You just busted your head open, you need to stay in bed.”

She mumbled, putting you back into the bed after lifting you. She’d changed you into your favorite pair of shorts and a loose T-shirt. It was only when she began going on and on about how stubborn you were, that you noticed a blur of movement in the doorway.

You’d seen Simon’s friends leave earlier. Assumed they’d been on a mission again.

You began pushing against Nalani, and she looked confused.

“What? What’s wrong?”

Your throat was too dry and cracked. You rasped to get something out as a gun poked around the corner. A silencer on it.

“Down, get-“

You tried pushing her down, the other hand reaching for the gun in your nightstand, fingers fumbling to find it. You were too late.

A near silent shot, and there was a hole in the back of her head that you couldn’t see but knew was there. She crumpled to the ground as you tried again to grab your pistol from the nightstand drawer, only to realize that Price had never returned it after that night.

Cursing under your breath, you grabbed the knife from under your pillow, a hunting knife, and threw it, watching as it embedded itself into the man peeking around the corner’s neck.

One down.

More came, though. Too many. Your vision blurred as you heard male voices talking, a shot down by your legs, but not quite hitting.

They were trying to disable you.

Your head was throbbing, adrenaline making you forget grief in the moment. Pain exploded through your veins as you felt a bullet whiz past you, nicking your right arm. Three men stormed the room, clearing it, before one of them came into sight, kneeling to be eye level with you.

“Thought we wouldn’t find you, yes? The Wasp’s Nest is not as secure as you thought. We’ll get our retribution.”

He spoke mockingly to you, before shoving a white bag over your head. Other voices filled the room, quiet, but loud enough for your dwindling consciousness to catch.

“…useful?”

“It’ll work……able to….again.”

“…knock her..”

“Roger that..”

You felt the blunt force of the back of a gun being slammed against your head, and your vision went black.

If you’d told the truth, then maybe none of this wouldn’t have happened.

But in the end.

The job came first.

Tags:

@yearninglustfully

@kazuyatokue

@kiwibao

@kurokitty6

@sharkluver

@100percentlazybonez

[littlelordfuckler0y]

Felix catton x reader Instagram au [part2] [part1]

yourusername proofreading my essay (he’s about to descend into madness)

fe1ix_catt0n There were some rough patches I’d say…

yourusername uh huh

yourfriend Exploiting English major friend perks 🙄

yourusername he offered alr

annabel_ he doesn’t even proofread his own essays lol

-

Felix sat in the library with legs crossed across y/n, these days he just happened to be in the library when y/n was. Just happened to be there to finish his reading assignment whilst she studied. He saw the frown on her face as she seemed to be stuck on something against the white light of her computer. They couldn’t group study as in help each other with assignments given their majors were entirely different but they had study sessions, finish their respective work together. “What’s wrong?” He asked, by now he was used to her patterns of difficulties, it was generally ‘thermodynamics’ and even though he didn’t understand it listening to her rant about it was somewhat cherished by him.

“This fuckass essay” she said with a sigh and deadpanned herself.

“Oh you’ve to write essays now?” Felix asked leaning forward in his seat given this was something he could help with.

“Not really, it’s just for the robotics seminar remember? There are supposed extra points if we submit an essay on how excited and emotional we are about partaking in it…” she trailed off as she stared at her screen “As if the model isn’t enough.”

“But you have been excited about this for months?” Felix mentioned tilting his head, “what’s the problem?”

“This essay, this is my third final rough draft and it’s so exhausting” she replied and slouched back on her seat crossing her arms.

“Let me help” Felix offered as she turned the computer to his side as he sat across her. Just going through the first paragraph his eyebrows knitted together trying to make coherent sense of it. Stem majors write the worst essay stereotype was now more than a stereotype to felix. “So” he paused going through it “You’ve just left gaps here with ‘something’ in the middle-what? What’s that for?”

“Oh yeah I’m supposed to put a fancy word there so it looks pretty.” She mentioned with a shrug.

“Just a fancy word? As in randomly?” He asked puzzled as he scrolled through her essay thoroughly and found she’d actually done that. Halfway through a sentence she’d added big words with some context.

“Not randomly no, just, put one in those places.”

“Oh-alright see the second body of the essay is well done, you’re talking about the system of your model and the workings of it, it sounds smart but isn’t the essay supposed to be about how you feel? I mean the assigned title is literally on it.” He explained “It doesn’t align with the main objective.”

“So what? I’ve written about my model which I’m entering IN the seminar.” She reasoned leaning back up on her seat as he shook his head and motioned his with his chin for her to come around the table and next to him.

“Yes but it barely covers the feelings aspect, which is what you have to write the essay on. It literally says that here” He said pointing to the middle portion of the screen where her essay was displayed as she stood beside him.

“I don’t read the small print” She said. Felix paused to look at her a are-you-serious look on his face and waited for her to catch on his disappointment “What?” She asked.

“Okay let’s see, you’ve just kept ‘something’ in quotes at places, which is fine for your first draft-”

“Draft?” She interrupted him with an obvious scoff “Oh no this is the final one. I don’t do drafts.”

“What? What do you mean you don’t do drafts?” He asked somewhat confused.

“I write then I proofread and cut, honestly I don’t know why you’re wasting so much time it’s just for extra” she shrugged so casually, felix felt like stem majors had an entirely different set of brain cells when it came to anything literary.

“This is going to take it a while.”

fel1x_catt0n Congratulations to Y/n and team! Great work guys ❤️

yourusername aweee thanks felix 🕺

fel1x_catt0n much deserved, angel

katie_ congrats

annabel_ did felix attend the nerd convention today? 😂

fel1x_catt0n it was very interesting despite your generalisation

farleigh_start Congrats girl!!

-

The whole science seminar was initially optional, even with such there was a lot of competition and a crowd. The crowd was mainly the college professors and seminar conductors and some juniors who had to volunteer for extra credits. However the crowd seemed huge from the stage minimising everyone into a small dot given the auditorium space was gigantic. After the prize distribution y/n and her team had gotten first place for their model. A big deal amongst a handful of people because not a lot of stem majors themselves cared about extra irrelevant to their portfolio projects. But well there were some. Y/n was very giddy, laughing amongst her team of three people as they walked down from the stage and through the auditorium amongst the crowd. They were then approached by the only student dressed in a full on tuxedo, not even a stem one. Felix.

“Felix?” Y/n blinked as she stopped in her tracks as she saw him approaching her direction with a giant bouquet of flowers and hugged her. She was confused and amused at the same time, she recalled telling him that the project was a big deal to her but she didn’t think he’d show up actually. “Woah you showed up?!” She asked giggling as he wrapped his arms around her even tighter and kissed the top of her head.

“Of course I did silly” he scoffed as he pulled away and handed her the flowers, “congrats smarty pants, all of you.” He spoke to her group as well with a victorious smile as he kept his arm around her shoulder.

“Thanks!” They said one after another, assuming Felix and y/n were perhaps a thinking. However the way Felix was dressed was rather funnier to them. They made their smell talk and went on about their way still snickering amongst themselves.

“Strange what was so funny…” he trailed off looking back at y/n as the rest of her team left.

“Your tuxedo” she replied with a small chuckle.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“The only set of people who’re wearing a tuxedo at this function are our professors, it’s just blazers I guess you’ve done out-dressed everyone” she jokes as she fixed the bow tie of his shirt and he playfully rolled his eyes at her.

“The invite seemed fancy, fancy attire for fancy invites isn’t that how it’s supposed to be?” He reasoned for himself.

“What invite?” Y/n questioned.

“The one on the function website” Felix replied.

Initially y/n had just forwarded the message she got from her group about the timings and venue as a vague invitation because zero art majors are interested in these events “what? We have a website?”

“Yeah. I looked it up” he answered with a shrug, he wanted to look just perfectly suitable for her event because it seemed to be a big deal for her, so he did his research despite failing miserably at fitting y/n found it to be a very heartwarming gesture.

“Wow? Such dedication…”

“Of course my love” he said with an obvious huff, hoping his hints would pass through her.

yourusername the one and only. tuxedo at da science centre.

yourfriend he was out there outshining professor john’s Maxwell theorem themed necktie🤗

yourusername LITERALLY?

teammate1 bow tie AND cufflinks…

fel1x_catt0n I see I’ve gained a reputation

teammate2 jokes apart you two are such a cute couple 💖

annabel_ LOL they’re not dating!!!!

yourusername yeah haha ^^

-

“are you serious?!” Y/n friend exclaimed as they spun around the flowers felix have in their hands. “He gave these? They’re bigger than our torsos man”

“Yeah…yeah…” y/n trailed off with a shrug trying to downplay it somewhat.

“AND he came in a tuxedo, AND he posted you…do you have zero situational awareness or what?” Her friend scoffed as they gently whacked the flowers on y/n’s forehead.

“Look, felix is a friend’s friend. He’s the most friendliest of them all. Stop trying to induce romanticism in me, he’s a great friend. Very outgoing, giving, sweet…that’s how he is.” She explained.

“You are most definitely blind are you not seeing these!” They pointed to the ever so gigantic bouquet of flowers, “helping you with your essay, bringing you snacks, wanting to hang out with you all the time-”

“That’s what we do too.” Y/n reasoned.

“Girl.” They took a deep breath. “I hate you and I never want to hang out with you.”

Y/n snickered falling back to her bed, “Yeah sure. I hate you too.”

“That’s not the point-we’re us and Felix is a completely new person in your life who’s doing all this for YOU.”

“Yada yada” Y/n said rolling her eyes at her friend as they once again whacked her with the flowers.

“You pull shit like this and that Annabelle will steal him from you. Dig your own grave.”

Y/n burst into a hearty laugh at that, “Steal felix? What are you on about we’re not a thing to begin with and Annabelle is his friend just like me.”

“YOURE NOT EVEN LISTENING TO ME” Her friend said with a sigh as they crossed their arms.

“BECAUSE YOURE NOT MAKING SENSE.” y/n said back with a high pitched tone, this was their normal between the best friends when one couldn’t get a point across, not just normal, civil even.

“OF COURSE IM NOT BECAUSE YOU ARE FUCKING BRAIN DEAD.” They said as they forcefully throw the flowers in her direction.

“YOU WANNA HAVE A GO AT ME OKAY.” she seethed and threw back a pillow, “Fucking come here” she said as the set of, almost grown ups, fought with one another in the most figurative sense with a pair of pillows aiming for most harm.

“Not my hair-not my hair you gangly uncoordinated bitc-” the wrestling match was interrupted by a knock on the door.

Followed by the familiar voice “everything alright in there?”

Felix.

“PAUSE.”

“-Pause.”

“What the fuck’s he doing here?” Y/n whisper yelled as her friend pushed her to go open the door, straightening her hair out hurriedly as she walked up there.

“GO.”

“Felix…Hi” y/n said as she caught her breath and smiled at him, despite of the disheveled state of her room.

“Hey…I was just passing by and I thought you were fighting-?” Felix asked with a soft smile as he leant on the doorframe of her dorm. It was as if he never needed an invitation.

“No we were just, er what is it we-we were” y/n looked back at her friend to jump in with an answer.

“Roomie wars.” Her friend shrugged off. “Ya know…where’s my candle, where’s my ramen from yesterday”

“Oh…” Felix trailed off with an understanding nods. “Yeah I get it.”

“Funny you were just passing by, through dorm hallways, when yours is—three buildings down isn’t it?” Her friend intervened with an accusatory chuckle receiving a disapproving look from y/n.

“Yes I was actually here for y/n.” Felix said, he would never be put in a situation where he’d get awkward, blatantly open and confident he didn’t truly care for implications if they were correct. “Do you have any lectures this evening.”

“No.” Her friend answered quickly before she could.

“Yeah no I don’t.” Y/n replied with a tight smile at her friend.

“Great then I’ll pick you up at 5 yeah?” Felix said.

“Wait-for what?”

“Anything.”

yourusername this man is drowning in pussy

fel1x_catt0n this is so foul

yourusername the cats wuv you

fel1x_catt0n yet your caption is that of a comedic genius

yourfriend I have no words

farleigh_start just not yours…

-

HIII I am sorry I don’t update regularly I promise I will now, I am going through a very difficult and traumatic time in my life it’s so so so hard to cope at the moment.

Any comments on this or opinions would help me a lot more than you think either ways if you’re here and read this thank you so much <3

[lovelybunn]

some hugs n cuddles !ㅤ- feat. howdy, barnaby and eddie

warning(s): none.

author's note: y'know i just HAD to feed on the delusional fantasy by writing for the big boy trio... (also this is lowkey established relationship)

🐛  howdy pillar .

Howdy whistles contently to himself while organizing the shelves of his store. His work is cut short by the familiar jingle of the bell at the entrance, alerting him of your presence.  “Howdy, neighbor, welcome to my bodega! Anything you need, I got it for ya. How can I be of service?” Howdy greets you with a warm smile as you step inside.

You walk up to the front counter and clear your throat. “I know this is not what you're currently selling, but…” Howdy's big, buggy eyes twinkled, “What is it? I can get it in stock in a jiffy, if you'd like!” You awkwardly press your lips into a thin line and exclaim, “It's not a product.” 

“Oh?” He pauses. “Then what is it?” He asks slowly, the gentle baritone of his voice flowing through your eardrums. His eyebrows furrow and antennae shuffle with worry. You snicker and wave your hand dismissively, “Hey, don't give me that look! I wanted a hug!”

The frown on his fluffy face soon molded into a bright smile. "Oh, then why didn't ya just say that, lovebug?" He rushes over from behind the counter and swoops you off your feet. Howdy's lower pair of arms kept you up as he wraps his upper pair around your waist. He gently squeezes you close. "You're the cutest, (Name)!" The two of you giggle, giving sweet butterfly kisses against each other's noses.

ㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤheadcanons !

getting cuddles/hugs from this man is absolute heaven for ppl that are chronically touch starved (like me—)

howdy's two pairs of arms will give all the affection anyone would need in their entire life. like boy will have two arms wrapped around your waist, one hand caressing your cheek, and the last one intertwined with your fingers <333

he doesn't wanna bend over, so he'll pick u up alot tho… (he's old and carries boxes all the time, his back don't need all that, alr?)

he's very soft. he has fur/fluff. (yes, i am basing that off of clownsuu's design, and what?)

and i feel like he would just love holding you anyway. ur just so small compared to him and he wants to protect you, y'know?

i personally see howdy being the papa of the neighborhood, taking care of everyone alongside poppy (but he's a lil bit more strict than she is about it lmao)

hear me out on this one guys…. i know that most ppl portray him as this chatterbox, but he knows how and when to listen. 

howdy will make sure that u never feel unheard or unloved, the sweet boy will make it his mission to put a smile on that adorable face of urs

🌭 barnaby b beagle .

Barnaby slouches in the bench chair and sighs. He takes a bite out of his hotdog when his eyes trail to a familiar face, walking up to him. "Ah, ey, kiddo. Whatchu want?" He gives you a relaxed smile. "I wanted to ask you for something."

He tilts his head, eyebrow raised. "Hmm? Go on, I got time." You take in a deep breath, "Hey Barnaby, Can you…" You pause as he leans closer to you. "Can you hold me? I've had kinda a rough day, and you're my go-to." He takes the last bite of his hotdog and pats his lap. " 'Course, kid. You can stay as long as you like."

Just as soon as you get his permission, you're sitting with your back towards him, his big paws placed gently across your belly. His plump figure makes it easy for you to practically sink into him like a fresh new couch. He hums a contented tune near your ear; your face warms up into a joyful grin.

Barnaby glances at you, "Ey, kiddo." You hum in response. "Y'know, I think Sally got a little bit of some competition; your smile alone could light up this whole neighborhood." You roll your eyes, a slight snicker escaping from your lips. "You're just saying that to make me feel better." He held you closer, shaking his head. Barnaby's large thumb caresses the palm of your right hand, tracing circles around its surface. "Nah, hon. It's all truth. I mean, ya must be some kinda treat, cuz I always catch myself gawking at the sight of you."

ㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤheadcanons !

boy's soft and plump like a giant life size pillow fr <3333 (human or dog ver, idc)

for dog ver, he loves being scratched behind his big ol ears !!!

gives bear hugs unintentionally

does that circle thing with ur palm

the dog be cooking tho. no, fr, he is the best cook in the neighborhood (and his love language is literally food) so if u need some support, he'll whip it up and serve it to u on a silver platter !!

also puns for days.. he wants to make everyone smile and laugh, u included. barnaby cannot stand a frown on a fellow neighbor's face.

Uncle-That-Smokes-Weedcore ™

he gives the best advice (when he wants to, that is. sometimes he'll say something stupid to see if whoever he gave the advice to will actually do it ;D) why do u think wally tells the man everything?

💌 eddie dear .

Eddie quickly walks to the door of his post office, filled with gratitude for another great hard day's work. As soon as he walks through the door, you rush over to give him a tender embrace. He chuckles, “Hey there, darlin'! Did my babydoll miss me?” With your face buried in his chest, you muffle out a "Mhm." Eddie's face beams, patting your back. "Well, I missed you too, honey." He places three soft kisses on you, one on your forehead, and the other two on either cheek.

Eddie tries to move forward, but you don't budge. Your arms are glued tight to him. "Uh, darlin'...? I– I gotta get unready, y'know? Please let go of me." He chuckles nervously. He tries to sneakily pull your arms away, but you speak before he's given the chance. "You've been gone all day, dear. Can't I hug you a little while longer?" You look up at him. The pleading look in your eyes melts the poor mailman's heart within seconds. "Alright, alright, fine! But just for a few minutes. I'd like to change into less sweaty clothes at some point."

The two of you just relax there for a moment, limbs wrapped delicately around each other. Absent-mindedly, Eddie guides you into somewhat of a slow dance, and your bodies sway back and forth as you and Eddie sink deeper into one and other's touch. After about a minute, he kisses your forehead again, then pulls away. "You satisfied, love?" You smile and nod slowly, "Yes, very."

ㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤheadcanons !

smooches for dayssss

most days this golden retriever man will lift u up, spin u around and DROWN U in kisses, but (obv) on busier days, hes a lot more relaxed about it

his love language is words of affirmation (so lots of pet names if u couldn't tell)

hand-holding at all times (when given opportunity)

EDDIE DEAR IS A POET. BOY WRITES U LOVE LETTERS EVERY OTHER DAY, ALL OF WHICH IS HANDMADE, ALL THE WAY DOWN TO THE ENVELOPE.

is it weird that i see eddie and frank as my gay parents? (yeah we ARE the two gay married men w/ their autistic child trope.)

eddie would be that crazy country dad who would with zero hesitation pull a gun on someone hurting his baby

but fr, if u were feeling sad boy would pull out the arts and crafts and go bonkers with it. like "awh, yer sad??? let's make origami butterflies to make u feel better c:"

[xreaderanonaccount]

yandere webttore x fem reader smut pls? I wont him....... so badly....

Synopsis: You were just a simple baker in Snezhnaya that was being harassed by a local gang. Lucky for you one of your regulars just so happens to be the 2nd Harbinger of the Fatui. All he wants in return is a favor.

Webttore is a segment of actual Dottore, Reader is wearing a dress,

Tags: NSFW MINORS DNI, DUB-CON, AFAB Reader, slight Stockholm Syndrome, P with plot, Yandere, human body parts, grinding, fingering, orgasm denial, rough s*x, Not Beta read

A/N: Inspired by that one Mafia!Bucky x Reader series here on tumblr. I can't find it and i'm sad cause i really liked reading it. This is also my first time writing a Yandere character so I hope I did a good enough job

Words: 3.5K

There’s a small bakery in a quiet street on the outskirts of the Capital of Snezhnaya. Many of the Fatui Skirmishers come to visit before heading out. They claim it’s good luck. You are always happy to do business with the Fatui, as that rakes in revenue for you. But recently you were having a slight problem. A local gang has been trying to pry money out of you, “for protection” they claim, but you do know that it's bogus. You tried to tell them no but they seem to not take that answer well. They come in almost everyday to harass you about it. At this point it’s part of your routine. You wake up, get the bakery ready, and get harassed by the gang. They normally harass you about money, always coming in disrupting business or graffiti rude and cruel messages on your windows. But you never gave in, you just sighed and fixed everything. There’s no need to cry over spilt milk, that’s what your mother would always tell you. It was one of those days where you were being harassed again by this local gang.

“Just give us the money, then your debt will be paid.” One of the gang members spatted, his temper clearly waning by the minute. 

“Why would I? And what debt would I incur during this time period?” You questioned, cleaning a glass cup. You were not amused by this, it’s the third time this week and you are quite getting used to your new routine. 

“For protection obviously!” Another one spat slamming his fist on your counter. You rolled your eyes at their foolish behavior.

“Oh, protection? But I do believe that the Fatui Harbingers and their men have it all covered. No?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. The gang member stuttered for a bit before another one, a much bigger one, slammed his gun on your counter.

“Listen here, you’re going to give us the money or else-”

“Or else what?” A new voice spoke up, one that you’re not familiar with. Looking over you spot a tall man with icy blue hair sitting idly in the booths stacks of paper scattered around the table. 

“And who are you?” One of the members asked, storming up to the man. You quickly walked around the bar putting you between the gang and the icy haired man. 

“Leave him out of this. You can threaten me all you want but the minute you threaten a customer it’s over.” You glared at them, but a small chuckle was heard behind you. You heard some shuffling before you felt a presence behind you. You looked up seeing the icy blue hair man behind you. 

“See, I really like this place. It gives me time to get away from them and now… it’s ruined. By you lot.” His tone was cold as he slowly approached the gang. But they didn’t move. 

“Oh yeah, and who are you, a high ranking Fatui Harbinger?” One asked, pointing a gun right to his face. You couldn’t see what the strange man did next as he gestured to something on him. But whatever it was it clearly scared the gang away. Their faces were pale as they exited the store. One muttered that they’ll be back, but the other didn’t say anything. Now it was just the two of you.

“Ha, sorry for dragging you into this mess.” You sighed, running your hand through your hair. The man gave out a chaotic cackle before whipping around to see you. You finally get a good view of him. He had striking red eyes, the already described icy blue hair, and his outfit was strange. A white dress shirt with an overexaggerated collar, paired with a black vest. Strange clothing for the middle of winter in Snezhnaya. Let’s not mention the blue earring he wore that has some sort of liquid in it. 

“Hmm,” The man hummed as he circled around you like a predator eyeing their prey. He stopped right behind you, you felt his hands run through your hair playing with it a bit.

“You have nice hair, and very healthy organs.” He chuckled a bit.

“Thanks?” you tried to smile, but this is totally weird. Was he trying to compliment you, or something? You gave a weary look as you watched him slide back into his booth and continue looking around his stack of paper. You sighed as you walked around the counter, you have to repay him with something right? An idea popped in your head as you smiled to yourself. As you prepare your little surprise for the stranger, everytime you glance in his direction he always seems to be looking at you at the same time. Strange, but this man is already strange already. 

After a couple of minutes you approached the strange man again. As you approached him, he seemed to sense your presence and watched you set a plate down. 

“This… is a little thanks for helping me with those nut jobs.” You suddenly felt shy under his gaze. But he didn’t say a word as he took a bite out of the warm pastry. 

“Thanks.” He said muffled by the pastry that was in his mouth.

“No, thank you.” You smile as you walk away, going back to cleaning the mess the gang left behind. It seems that you have a new routine, you wake up, get the bakery ready, get harassed again, but now you have your new regular. The strange ice blue haired man comes in everyday it seems to work? You don’t really know, you never really pry into it. He always comes in and gets the same thing. A pure black iced coffee with a nice warm pastry. You're always confused when he asks for ice coffee as it’s Snezhnaya, the temperatures are always in the negatives. But he seems to enjoy his order. You can’t complain, he seems to help out when the gang comes in to harass you.

But for the past few weeks he hasn’t shown up.You were concerned and asked around but no one seemed to know what or who you were talking about. But something strange started to happen. Dead bodies have started showing up around your bakery. Either in your front door, in your alley way, or in the back door, wherever there is a spot a body was found. And every single time the body belonged to the gang that was harassing you. And every single time there was a message written in their blood confessing their crimes of harassing you. You were freaked out about it, thinking there was a serial killer on the loose and you reported it to the nearest Fatui station. The Fatui seemed to care for about a week but then stopped. They dropped the case saying that the 2nd Fatui Harbinger Il Dottore dropped the case. Which is strange because Lord Pucinella is in charge of the capital’s police so why is the Doctor dropping the case? You were lowkey freaked out about everything, but everytime you were scared to leave the strange man always seemed to appear. Always willing to walk you home, and if anytime you ask about his whereabouts he would just dismiss the question. Although a little freak out you didn’t question why he was here. It was nice to have someone watching over you especially when it seems that someone is clearly doing a revenge for you. 

On one fateful night, a quiet night you were alone in your bakery cleaning some dishes when you heard a high pitch scream. Your head shot up as you gently placed down the cup. The screams died out, and the silence after was deafening. Did you just hear the last moments of someone's life? You hesitated to leave the backroom before you heard a little ding, it rang around the quiet bakery, you were frozen not knowing what to do.

“Darling are you there?” A familiar voice spoke up, it was that man. You quickly walked out of the room already babbling about what just happened. But you were stopped in your tracks, your eyes went wide, and face went pale. There he stood covered in blood, his face like a maniac as he held a little box with a pretty bow on top. 

“W-what happened to you?” You stuttered as you slowly approached the man who gave a crazed smile holding out a box.

“I got you a present.” Completely ignoring the question he set the present in your hands. The blood smeared all over your hand. 

“What is it?” You hesitatingly asked. 

“Open it,” 

You slowly pulled the little ribbon on the top, the ribbon fell gracefully on your blood stained hands. Slowly taking the top off you only caught a glimpse of the inside before dropping it. Falling out of the gift box was a human heart, the blood oozing out of the heart pooling on your recently cleaned floor. You scrambled back, your back hitting against the wall harshly. 

“W-what is this?” You exclaimed looking over at him, all he had was a small smile as he walked around the counter getting closer to you. 

“A profession of my love, darling.” His small smile turned into a smile.You were still scrambling away to the back room.

“With a human heart! What is wrong with you?” You yelled, all he did was start to laugh, a laugh that soon turned into a cackle.

“What is wrong with me? With me? Oh darling, everything.” He made eye contact with you, his eyes blown wide with lust as he continued his approach. 

“Those little gang members won’t hurt you ever again.” He whispered as he encaptured you between his arms against the wall. Inches away from his face as he gave a manic smile. 

“You did this, killed all those gang members?” Your voice wobbled as you tried to grasp the situation. 

“Oh yes, I did, made sure they won’t hurt you ever again.” He whispered, his face inches away from you. You were shaking uncontrollably, you didn’t know how to react.

“Please don’t hurt me.” You whispered your voice quivering with every word. The man just cackled as he rested his head against your shoulder. 

“Hurt you… haha… I can never hurt. Not you, never.” 

“I… don’t even know your name.” He stared straight into your eyes, his ruby red ones shining in the light, piercing through yours. 

“I go by many names, but I prefer you call me Zandik.” Zandik reached out to your face, creasing it, the smell of metal filled your senses as he spread the blood all across your face. He leaned in his lips inches away from yours, you can feel his breath against your face.

“I would kill the whole world for you, I want you so badly. Please…” He pleaded, resting his forehead against yours. 

“I…I…” 

“Please…” You looked away for a second before Zandik let out a sound of frustration before slamming his lips against yours. It was rough, he had your arms pinned, you can’t move an inch. When he pulled away he smiled as he stroked your cheek. You’re pretty sure that the majority of your face is covered in blood. 

“I want you.” He murmured against your skin as his hands trailed back untying your apron.

“Do you want me?” He asked looking straight into your eyes, you just nodded. He started to laugh, the mood completely shifting for both of you. For him he was ecstatic, but for you… you have no idea. You were scared, afraid, but also calm? Like sure this Zandik man killed a bunch of men, but he did it in your honor. He has no ill intention on harming you, and he is clearly doing it out of love. But do you love him? All these thoughts stirred in your head as you felt Zandik’s hands trailed down your dress till it was underneath the frills. 

“Haa, do that again? Make that sound again, you sound so cute.” He breathed as he started to hike up your dress. The dress crumpled up to your waist as you obliged his request by whimpering again as you felt the cold wind of Snezhnaya brush against your legs. Zandik pulled back admiring how you looked. He chuckled as he leaned in towards your ear.

“You look beautiful with all this blood. So beautiful…” He whispered as he worked his way towards your panties. But was stopped your sudden grip on his wrist. He looked shocked at your audacity to stop his advancement. 

“C-could you at least wash the blood off your hands.” You mumbled as you looked away, “I don’t really want someone’s blood inside me.” It clicked in Zandik’s head and he rushed over to the sink, scrubbing his hands clean of all the blood. You stood there in shock on what’s happening. Everything is settling on you like a ton of bricks. This man who you're about to have sex with just killed a bunch of people these past months, and just professes his love to you with a human heart. How… strange. You listened to him mutter to himself something about, “not wanting other guys dna inside you.” that “you belong to him and him alone.” or “I’ll never let anyone hurt her again.” You weren’t going to lie, it was lowkey hot to see him like this. He patted his hands down on his pants before latching himself back onto you. His lips were back onto yours devouring you lips like there was no tomorrow. You couldn’t help but moan against his lips as he started to slowly grind against you. You could feel how hard he was against your cloth vagina. 

“I can’t help myself dear, you are so perfect.” He murmured against your skin, you felt his gloved hands trail down playing with the edge of your underwear. You felt him smile against your skin as he pulled your underwear to the side and plunge two fingers into your soaking wet clit. You heard him groan as he worked your way through your vagina. 

“You’re already so wet for me dear. So perfect, taking in my fingers like this.” He moaned as he fastened his pace. The moans couldn’t stop as you closed your eyes. The feeling was so overwhelming, the foreign feeling of his leather gloves pistoning in and out of you felt strange yet pleasurable. Zandik was biting against your skin, his shark-like teeth biting down on your exposed neck, you felt your blood trickle down your neck. His pace fastened with each thrust, you couldn’t hold back your moans. Whimpering his name every now and then, which seemed to get a reaction out of him. 

“Ha, I’m close.” You breathed out, feeling the coil tighten in your stomach. But the minute you said that you felt Zandik’s fingers ripping out of your inside. You whined at the sudden loss of his fingers. 

“I know darling, but I promise you. I’ll make you feel so so much better. I swear.” He cackled as he fiddled with his pants. You intently watched as he pulled his now hard cock out. He slapped it against your clit, earning a moan. You eyed at the sheer size of his cock. It was huge. You don’t think it would fit inside you.

“It’s not going to fit.” You exclaimed, panicking looking up to Zandik’s glaring red eyes.

“Too big? Haha, don’t worry darling, I’ll make it fit.” Zandik smiled as he lined up his cock with your vagina. 

“It’s not going to fit-” You were cut off as Zandik shoved his girthy cock all the way in one go. You yelled in pain and pleasure by the stretch. You tried to tell him to slow down but your cries fell on deaf ears as Zandik set a rough pace. He seemed to lose his own pleasure to listen to your pleas. You felt tears start to flow down your cheeks by the stretch of Zandik’s dick. Zandik started to laugh like a mad man looking down on you, his eyes wide like a crazed man.

“You look so beautiful like this darling, so beautiful when you cry.” He laughed, slamming his lips against yours, kissing your pain away. 

“Please, I want to cum.” You cried pulling away from him, the pain turning into pleasure as Zandik continued his rough pace.

“Ha, so obedient, so perfect. You were made for me,” He moaned as he gently cupped your face.

“Look at you, you were worried about my dick fitting yet look,” He tilted your head to see his dick disappear inside your vagina with each rough thrust, “your pussy was made for me, molded just me, and me only.” Your walls flutter against his dick with his words, which causes Zandik to groan.

“And now, you’re sucking me in with every thrust. Greedy greedy girl.” He chuckled as he captured your lips again. When he pulled away, a thin string of spit kept you connected.

“I’ve been aching for you for weeks now,” He started his confession, “every night, I would imagine how perfect you would be around my cock. And-ha, just look. It’s perfect, you're perfect, just for me. You’re mine, got it?” His words fell out of his mouth in pure pleasure as he started to draw dizzy circles around your clit. That sent your nerves into overdrive, moans kept falling out of your mouth. Your senses were sent into overdrive, every touch from Zandik made you clamp down around his dick. You couldn’t help it, the pure bliss that you were feeling was out of this world. 

“C-close.” You were able to get out, Zandik just chuckled before quickening his already fast pace. 

“Gods please, I want your vagina to suck me dry. Please, let me cum inside you.” Zandik moaned, “I want you to bear my children. Gods please.” All you could do is nod as you felt that coil tighten again in your stomach. 

“Please Zandik, I want to cum.” You moaned, the mere mention of his name made him go into overdrive. Circling his fingers around your clit faster, and faster. Every sense went into overdrive and you couldn’t hold it in longer. Clamping down on his cock you shook violently as you screamed out of his name. Zandik continue his rough pace fucking you through your high.When you came down from your high, you felt Zandik pull out of your overstimulated hole. You whine from the empty feeling, as Zandik let you fall to your knees, exhausted from everything. But Zandik wasn’t done, he stroked his dick faster and faster aiming it straight to your face. He cupped your chin making you look up at him with your fucked out face.

“So beautiful, so perfect. Just for me, tell me you want me.” Zandik breathed, he continued to stroke his dick before you stop his action. Confused, he watched as you replaced his hands with yours as you started to stroke him from base to tip. Zandik eyes blown wide from your actions he couldn’t help but start to thrust into your hands.

“I’m yours.” You muttered as you gave kitten licks on his tips. Zandik groaned as his dick twitched in your hands. The white warm semen painted your face, he had so much cum in him that by the time he finished you are probably sure your face is covered full of cum and blood. Zandik was breathing heavily as he gave a cackle. He smeared the cum and blood across your face, giving a small smile. 

“You look so beautiful with my cum painted all over your face.” You didn’t respond, only your heavy breathing was heard in the quiet bakery. You two stood in silence before Zandik noticed something outside the bakery, stuff his cock back into his slacks.

“Stay down there darling.” He smiled before turning towards the bakery door. You didn’t peak up but you heard the bakery bell ring indicating someone walked inside. 

“Lord Dottore! We’ve been looking all over for you.” Someone said, Lord Dottore? You mean the 2nd Fatui Harbinger? You looked up at “Zandik” who was annoyed by the disruption. 

“What is it?” He sounded annoyed. 

“We’ve located the gang that was harassing the bakery owner.” One of them stated, you watched as “Zandik” snatched the paper out of the person's hands.

“Very well, get to it then. I want any survivors sent to the lab. Have Prime deal with it.” He sounded a mix of boredom and anger as he dismissed the people who entered the bakery.

“Yes lord Harbinger.” They both said, before you hear them walking out of the bakery. Zandik turned back to you, giving you a wicked smile.

“Y-you’re the 2nd harbinger?” You whispered trying to scoot away.

“Oh are you scared now that you know my identity? Aw, you hurt me dear.” “Zandik” smiled, kneeling down to your level. He reached out for you stroking the cum and blood across your face.

“I promise you no one will hurt you again right?” You nodded at his statement, “Good. Now that I marked you I will always protect you… from anyone.”

A/N: divider credits: cafekitsune

[cranberryjuice-posts]

DARINGGGG GUESS WHO JUST ESCAPED THE ASYLUMMMM

IM BACK W ANOTHER REQUEST POOKIE (YOU DON'T HAVE TO DO IT JS TAKE UR TIME)

OK SO CLARISSE X PERSEPHONE!DAUGHTER (THIS IS ANGST ANGST ANGST) WHERE THEY'RE IN THE BATTLE OF MANHATTAN AND READER IS STABBED SO OBS CLARISSE RUSHED OVER TO LIKE TRY AND SAVE THEM. BUT READER ALR KNOWS THEYRE DYRING SO THEY'RE IKE "its ok it's ok. I'm ginna go see my mother, i'll be fine!

BAWLING

(clarisse is taking over my mid)

HAVE A GREAT DAY AND TAKE CARE OF YOUTSELF POOKIE

- I’ll be back -

Pairings - Clarisse La Rue x Fem! Persephone! Reader

An - just a heads up as I said in my Korra fic this will probably be my last clarisse fic For a while. The hyperfixation and excitement to write for her is slowly going away, I will be writing most all of the request that I do have for her eventually but other than that I will be taking a short break I hope you all understand!

The sky had a thick layer of grey over it. The destruction to manhattan causing cement and other forms of pollution to take over the air.

Swinging your weapon aimlessly you tried to fight off the growing hoard of monsters. It was hard, fighting for gods know how many hours, seeing people you loved and care for die in-front of you and slowly loosing your siblings.

What hurt the most was seeing kids you grew up and laughed with fighting against you. Fighting for a cause that would benefit no one, fighting for what seemed like a dream that was never going to be real.

Trudging into a hidden alley way you lifted up your shirt. Looking down you saw the poisoned arrow shot wound becoming purple; throbbing harder and harder by the second.

Muffling your scream you pulled the dirty bandages off your body, tossing them into a dumpster. Rummaging through the bag at your side you quickly tried to change the dressings.

In the middle of war a second of peace was rare, a moment to asses your injuries was non existent, a chance to mentally reflect on your surroundings ended in death.

Death that forever followed you.

Standing stiff you were almost to scared to look down. If you gas lighted yourself enough you couldn’t feel it, it wouldn’t be true. It was foolish to think that you could of hidden from war.

“Checkmate” a raspy voice behind you whispered. Tyla.. s a daughter of Tyche and a friend who you had always competed with. Simple childish competion that eventually ended in celestial bronze piercing through your gut.

You’ve never been the best fighter but receiving deadly wounds twice in one day was setting the bar low. Pulling her sword out you fell to your knees, a metallic sound swinging in the air and hitting you in the back of your throat.

Tylas rough combat boot pressed your face into the gravel, tears quickly falling out of your face. “See You in hell” sliding the rubber bottom off your cheek she spat on you. Walking away with the intent to kill another.

Laying in the dirty alley way your thoughts went from the pain slowly leaving your body to memories of her. Of clarisse.

Sitting on the doc together where you shared your first kiss at sun down.

The first argument which ended with you both apologizing and laying together.

Sneaking into the ares cabin just to get caught the following day because you accidentally grew dead roses outside her window.

The awkward confession and her asking you on a date.

… the promise you made to clarisse that you would come back alive.

You woke up laying on a mat, a few medics crowded around you and the crying face of the woman you loved above. You couldn’t help but smile, even in her worst clarisse still looked beautiful.

Will reached over and grabbed her arm squeezing it. “She doesn’t have long” he mumbled closing his eyes. “Be quick” he softly spoke, standing up and walking to another kid.

You tried to move but she quickly took your body into her arms. “Hey, hey don’t.. just rest” clarisse tried to stay strong but right now she couldn’t help but loose it all. “You gonna be fine” her voice broke.

Tears began falling from her eyes and hitting your face. Her weak expression destroyed your heart.

Grabbing her shirt as it was the closest you could Get to touching her. “I’m ok… everything’s ok” you whispered. Clafisse just shook her head, the color was quickly leaving your face. “I just have to visit my mom for a little while, it’ll just be for a few weeks ok”

Clarisse brought your body to hers, hiding her face in your neck. Your arms went lip and around you both dead flowers and weeds appeared. As a daughter of Persephone death followed you every where, even in your final moments.

It felt as though the world stopped. That the outside wasn’t real and this all was a bad dream but even the strongest warriors had to accept when the sun came up.

[norrisreads]

Dangerous Woman 2 #CS55

PAIRING: carlos sainz x reader!, non racer carlos sainz jr x reader!

SUMMARY: being arranged married to carlos sainz, will the both of you work the marriage or will the next step be signing the divorce papers

WARNINGS: age gap, arranged married related, no smuts! tensions ofc, will be a 4 part series, inc of smau! angst, fluff (in the future?)

part 1

full masterlist

Carlos definition of a date in his mind was a normal casual dinner date, not a date where the both of you would’ve enjoyed because right now while waiting for both of your food to arrived, there was a thick air of tension surrounding both of you.

“will you explain what is going on or are we supposed to sit here in silence?” you spoke, cutting off his train of thoughts

not far from your table you could notice the presence of the trio that was peeping towards your table, it’s not a secret when they’re out there wearing the exact same thing that you last saw them in.

“i’m aware lando have told you i’ve broken up with her” nodding your head agreeing to the statement

“I’ll appreciate if i could rekindle this situation, slowly”

now, you’re laughing because why now? why rekindle after a year?

“that’s funny sainz, the last thing i’ve heard from you was that you threw away our friendship over, just because you thought this marriage would meddle in to your relationship”

“you would’ve done the same thing, y/n. you don’t understand”

What did he meant that you wouldn’t understand? what about the nights you sobbed to him about how much you’ve loved your ex, but your parents would never approve of him which led the both of you to part ways

“i would’ve done the same thing carlos, but i couldn’t. it’s different for me because i’m not the head of the family, i’m just a woman who has to listen to everything my father says. I loved him, but i couldn’t do it anymore so i truly understand carlos. I’ve never once threw away our friendship but instead you, you’re selfish and you’re unaware of it”

you expected a reply but all he gave you was a slight nod agreeing to whatever you’ve just told him

“let’s just eat, we’re here anyways, and it would be great if those trios of yours join us instead of trying to hide themselves, because it’s not working”

it’s been two weeks since then, there was an improvement in carlos attitude towards you, he would pick you up daily from your shifts, asked you out to dinner and he’s actually treating you like a wife should have been treated, which was odd but it did healed a part of your heart knowingly this is exactly the way you wanted to be treat as a wife.

“you’ve been nothing but glowing these past few days, what’s going on?” you’re currently on face-time with your best-friend, casually keeping up with each other gossips

“it’s carlos, he’s been treating me differently ever since that dinner date” setting up your phone on your table, while you’re removing your left over makeup

“well that’s great isn’t it? you guys are married so, least he could do is start treating you like a wife”

your best friend have always had a grudge towards Carlos, ever-since you’ve told her about both yours and Carlos rough past

“yeah and i guess im still getting used to it, but she’s gonna come back anytime sooner, this isn’t the first and surely would not be the last”

sighing while removing your makeup, from your phone screen you could see your best friend shrugging her shoulders agreeing with whatever you’ve just said to her

“he does that everytime, y/n. it’s all up to your choices love”

just then you heard your front doors open with voices trailing behind, “i think he’s homed, i’ll text you in a while, love you”

with that you ended the call with your best-friend and walked to your living room only to be greeted with carlos and his friends

“is there something going on today?” you were confused, you weren’t aware of the invitation of his friends over to your house

“they were just stopping by for dinner, would you like to join us?”

“It’s alright, your mom came by and brought over some food. I’ll just heat them up for you guys”

with that, carlos left the kitchen to entertain his friends

you weren’t particularly fond of his friends, other than the three who’s always around the both of you, these friends were different

you knew the friend group that he sticks by has been there for him since childhood and they’ve particularly were more fond of her rather than you.

there were many times you’d eavesdrop their conversations and those times were when you’d listen to their bad remarks about your marriage.

you knew who carlos ex girlfriend was, you’ve met her multiple times due to carlos and your family gathering that’s on-going for every year.

you’d be lying if you think she wasn’t beautiful because she is, no one knew but you’d sometimes compare the both of you because clearly she was the better looking.

your train of thoughts left your mind when you felt hands snaking around your waist

“what’s going on with that mind of yours, i’ve been calling for you to join us”

you could smell that strong perfume of his and a tint of sweetness which you for sure know it’s neither his nor yours because the perfumes you wore were always citrusy scents, and that was one sign you should have never choose to ignore

taglist ; @iissza @spngi @sainzluvrr @slut4lando

link to taglist

a/n : thank you for the support & love for dangerous woman 🥹! i’ve received multiple inboxs asking when will i post the next part, so here you go <3!

[cailinsblog]

Can you please write more Husband Nathan Mackinnon, please? I love the first one ! 😍

Omg yesss😻😻 I love people that give me requests and I love Nathan Mackinnon thank you for the request much appreciated💕💕💕

Golfing with the Mackinnons-Nathan Mackinnon

Nathan Mackinnon x reader

It was a beautiful sunny afternoon in Denver, and Nathan MacKinnon was excited for a rare day off. The Colorado Avalanche had just wrapped up a string of games, and he was looking forward to spending the day with his wife, Y/N. She had suggested a round of golf, and Nathan—though not much of a golfer—had agreed enthusiastically, more for the chance to spend quality time with her than for the sport itself.

Y/N, on the other hand, had grown up playing golf and was a natural on the green. She was looking forward to showing Nathan a thing or two about the game. Of course, the couple had been married for a couple of years, and they both loved teasing each other, especially on days like this. They had planned to keep the mood light and fun, no matter how competitive Nathan might get.

As they arrived at the golf course, Nathan couldn’t help but look over at Y/N, his heart skipping a beat. She looked absolutely stunning in a simple yet stylish white skirt that flowed gracefully as she walked, paired with a fitted polo that showed off her athletic build. Her golf shoes clicked on the pavement as she made her way to the course, and Nathan couldn't help but feel a little bit proud—his beautiful wife was about to show him up on the golf course. He adjusted his cap, making sure his own attire was just as on point. He’d donned the classic golfer look: a collared shirt, khaki shorts, and sneakers.

As they approached the first hole, they both grabbed their golf bags, which were marked with “MacKinnon” on the sides in bold letters—each of them with their personalized clubs. Y/N looked at Nathan with a playful smile as she swung her bag over her shoulder. “Ready to lose, MacKinnon?” she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Nathan smirked, holding up his own bag confidently. “We’ll see who’s really losing by the end of the day,” he replied. “Don’t forget, I’m competitive.”

“Oh, I know,” Y/N said with a wink, “but I’ve got years of experience on you.”

They both chuckled as they made their way to the first tee. Nathan went first, setting up his shot with precision, but it wasn’t as clean as he hoped—his ball veered slightly to the left and ended up in the rough. Y/N raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest with a grin.

“Not your best shot, Mr. MacKinnon,” she teased.

Nathan shot her a look, clearly not pleased with the result, but he couldn’t help but laugh. “Hey, it’s only the first hole,” he said, shaking his head. “Let’s see what you’ve got, Mrs. MacKinnon.”

Y/N set up for her shot with a perfect stance, her form graceful and poised. With one smooth swing, the ball sailed down the fairway, landing right in the middle. Nathan stood there, pretending to be unimpressed, but his grin betrayed him. “Nice shot,” he admitted. “But don’t get too cocky.”

She laughed, turning back to him with a wink. “It’s just the beginning, Nate.”

They spent the next few holes teasing each other as they went. Nathan would challenge Y/N to a bet on who could drive further, and when she inevitably won, he would grumble good-naturedly. Y/N, for her part, had a knack for playful banter, always throwing in a compliment to keep things light, though she’d sneak in a comment here and there about how Nathan's competitive side was starting to show.

But it wasn’t just the golfing that made the day special—it was the moments between shots, the small laughs and the little jabs they exchanged. The couple had always enjoyed their time together, and days like these reminded them why they loved each other so much.

As they reached the golf cart after a few holes, they both paused for a moment, eyeing each other. They both knew what was coming—the battle for who would drive the cart.

“Alright, it’s my turn to drive,” Y/N said, already reaching for the keys.

Nathan quickly stepped in front of her, blocking her path with a grin. “Oh no, no, no. I’m driving this cart, Y/N. You’ve had enough driving for the day.”

“Excuse me?” Y/N raised an eyebrow, clearly not impressed with Nathan’s claim. “You know I’m a better driver than you.”

“That’s debatable,” Nathan said, crossing his arms and leaning against the cart. “Besides, I’ll drive. You can just enjoy the ride.”

Y/N smirked, pretending to be offended. “Oh, really? Because I seem to remember you almost crashing the cart last time we went out.”

Nathan chuckled, scratching the back of his head. “That was one time! And I was distracted by your terrible golfing skills.”

Y/N laughed, pushing past him to open the golf cart door. “That’s funny, because I think you’re just trying to avoid losing the battle of the drivers, Mr. MacKinnon.”

“You’re on,” Nathan said, finally stepping aside, a playful grin on his face. “But only because you’ve got me in this competition.”

She settled into the driver’s seat with a proud look, starting the engine. “Thank you, kind sir,” Y/N said, giving him an exaggerated curtsy as she grabbed the steering wheel. “Now let’s see if you can keep up with me.”

Nathan jumped into the passenger seat, shaking his head. “You’re lucky I love you,” he teased as they started rolling down the path.

“I know,” Y/N said with a smile, glancing over at him. “You’re a lucky guy.”

The golf cart ride was full of laughter and playful teasing as they made their way to the next hole. Nathan pretended to complain about Y/N’s “reckless” driving, but the truth was, he loved every second of it. They argued over the silliest things—who hit the better shot, who was the better driver, who had the better golfing outfit—but deep down, it was just an excuse to spend time together and enjoy the little moments.

By the end of the round, Nathan had definitely won the majority of holes, but Y/N had kept him on his toes, challenging him at every turn. As they wrapped up their last hole, they made their way back to the clubhouse, both of them feeling a little bit more relaxed than when they’d started.

“You know,” Nathan said, his arm around Y/N as they walked toward the exit, “you might’ve lost today... but I’d still say you’re the better golfer.”

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully, nudging him with her elbow. “I don’t know about that. I think I just let you win.”

“Sure, sure,” Nathan said, his grin widening. “I’ll let you think that.”

They walked hand-in-hand back to the car, both of them feeling happy, content, and already planning their next round of golf together.

“Next time, I’m definitely driving the cart,” Y/N said as they got in.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll let you,” Nathan teased back, chuckling as he started the engine. “But only because you’re my wife.”

Y/N smiled, resting her head on his shoulder as they drove off. “Best day ever.”

And for Nathan, it certainly was. No matter how competitive the game, he knew that the best part was simply being with Y/N.