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ja3yun · 26 days

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The Doll House | Park Jongseong

doll!jay x fem!reader warnings: smut (mdni), soft dom!jay, unprotected sex, cream pie, oral (m.rec), punishment, pussy slapping, begging, slight choking, pet names (sweetheart, good girl, princess), mentions of fire and other supernatural elements, anything else lmk! wc: 10.3k synopsis: your friend comes to visit you in the mansion after a month but her harsh words towards the dolls brings out a protective side, and jongseong lets you in on some secrets about the house and how they came to be. sunghoon | masterlist | heeseung a/n: hi! with this being the third instalment for this series, it's finally answering some questions while also posing some more! i truly enjoyed writing this chapter and i hope the little word plays and everything get your gears turning with theories! i enjoy hearing your theories so much like i can't even describe it <3 thank you so so so much for the love, i am forever grateful. likes, reblogs, feedback etc are all appreciated!

The doorbell chimes through the air, pulling your attention away from putting away the dishes in the kitchen, and a grin effortlessly spreads across your face. Mia's visit today after a month apart fills you with an immediate sense of joy. Though Jaeyun and Sunghoon are great company to keep, nothing quite compares to the presence of your best friend.

Her absence has been so obvious; her infectious energy seems to breathe life into everywhere she goes, which is a much-missed aura in this mansion; her presence has the power to dispel the shadows and chill that cling to the brick walls.

"Who could that be?" Sunghoon's voice interrupts your thoughts as he strolls around the kitchen island.

"It's Mia, remember? The friend I came here with. I told you she would be coming," you remind him gently, accepting the cup he just dried.

Sunghoon and Jaeyun both offer their assistance with the chores, but their motivations are drastically different. Jaeyun's assistance comes from a place of actually wanting to help and spend quality time with you, whereas Sunghoon is helping because the faster you finish, the sooner he can fuck you in whatever room you wind up in.

Despite your initial concerns, their dynamic surprises you as they seamlessly work in tandem. Rather than competing for your attention, they've embraced the idea of sharing you - an unexpected but pleasant development.

Jaeyun's bright smile at the island warms the room, his anticipation evident, "Will Mia be staying for the last month?" he inquires eagerly.

“Why? Is Y/N not enough?” Sunghoon jabs playfully, his eyebrow arching at his brother's question. His arms encircle your waist, drawing you close so your back is pressed against his chest as he leans his head on your shoulder, "If you'd rather be with Mia, I’m more than happy to have my baby girl all to myself," he murmurs against your neck, planting a gentle kiss on the nape.

Your skin tingles with a mix of excitement and affection as Sunghoon leaves a faint mark, a delighted expression dancing across your face.

“No, no! I was just curious," Jaeyun protests with a pout, his posture relaxing into a slight slouch. He’s so cute when Sunghoon teases him like that, you’re almost reluctant to stop it.

But before you can say anything, Sunghoon gently turns you to face him, his expression softening as he meets your gaze, "Remember," he murmurs, his voice tinged with a hint of seriousness, "you can’t tell Mia about us, yeah?”

Of course, you knew that telling her would be disastrous no matter the outcome. She would either think you were crazy and lost your mind, or she would tell the world. Your best friend was never the best at keeping secrets.

“I know, don’t worry,” you offer the simple words as reassurance to him, which paired with the sincerity in your eyes, he gladly accepts.

Leaning in, Sunghoon lands a soft kiss on your lips, his kind gesture relieving any remaining anxieties, "Good. Now, once she's finally fucking gone, come find me in my room," he says with a sly leer, his fingers slithering teasingly over your sides - a familiar trick he uses to make you weak. You should reprimand him for speaking so dismissively about your best friend's arrival, but he just has the power to make you forget.

Sunghoon's demeanour takes a brief shift as he addresses Jaeyun, a hint of authority creeping into his tone, "And you," he gestures towards Jaeyun behind you, his expression momentarily serious, "if you're staying here, you stay absolutely still, got it?"

"Okay, Dad, jeez," Jaeyun retorts, rolling his eyes in mock annoyance at the implication that he needs to be reminded.

You grasp Sunghoon's concern, especially given that you're currently aware of the doll's secret due to Jaeyun's loose lips. However, Sunghoon's tone feels unnecessarily harsh. Jaeyun holds a special place in your heart, and you find yourself fiercely protective of him. It irks you to see Sunghoon address him in such a condescending manner, as if he's incapable of handling himself.

Feeling defensive of Jaeyun, you push against Sunghoon's arm, shooting him a stern look, a firm reminder that he should catch his tongue because both of you know how it affects Jaeyun.

The bell rings again, drawing all three of your attention back to Mia's imminent arrival. Sunghoon excuses himself to his room, and Jaeyun settles comfortably into a chair, leaving you to answer the door with the unspoken reassurance that Mia won’t uncover their secret. But then again, what if you slip up?

It's a nagging worry in the back of your mind as you approach the door. Mia knows everything about you - every hook-up, every situationship, even mundane details like what you had for breakfast each morning. She's your confidante for everything, even the embarrassing stuff like bursting spots on your backside. With her, nothing is off-limits.

You remind yourself to keep your wits about you, to guard your words carefully in Mia's presence. The last thing you need is to accidentally let slip the truth about the dolls and your illicit affairs with them.

You need to keep your wits about you.

As you swing open the door, greeted by the radiant presence of the angel you call your best friend, every worry and concern fades into the background. Her infectious smile and warm embrace envelop you, dispelling any lingering doubts or anxieties.

"Baby!" you exclaim, unable to contain your excitement as you wrap Mia in a tight embrace, swinging her from side to side. Though it's only been a month since you last saw her, it feels like an eternity.

Mia reciprocates your enthusiasm, squeezing you just as tightly, the warmth of her embrace filling you with a sense of homecoming. Both of you laugh and struggle to breathe amidst the suffocating love you shower upon each other, relishing in the joy of being reunited.

"God, I've missed you. It's so boring back in the city without you," Mia confesses, her words honest as she finally draws back to assess you. Suddenly, she pushes you to arm's length, her hands gripping your shoulders as she scrutinises you with a sceptical expression. With a flick of her finger, she motions for you to turn around, and you oblige, doing a quick twirl to indulge her curiosity.

You give her a quizzical look, tilting your head in silent inquiry as to what she's up to. "You're glowing, like literally, you look fucking amazing," she observes, her eyes scanning you from head to toe.

"Don't I always?" you jest in response.

"Obviously, but you've got that honeymoon glow," Mia insists, walking into the house but not before nudging you with her shoulder. "Is there a hot gardener here that I don't know about, hmm?"

Laughing, you shake your head, dismissing her playful insinuations. You make a conscious effort to maintain the facade, concealing your unconventional relationships with the dolls from Mia, despite her keen observations.

They must be fucking you good for her to notice a change within a minute of seeing you.

Mia follows you to the kitchen, her gaze lingering on the various porcelain dolls scattered throughout the hallway, just as she had when you both met Soonyeol for the first time. You sense her unease, evident in the hurried pace of her steps as she tries desperately to evade the watchful eyes of the dolls.

What she finds unsettling, you've grown to find some comfort in. Each time you clean them, you develop a newfound admiration for their intricate beauty and craftsmanship. Sometimes, Sunghoon will even tell you stories about certain dolls and their origins, adding to the mystique surrounding them.

Entering the kitchen, you find Jaeyun still perched on his seat, his usual joyful smile replaced by a stoic expression as he takes on his doll persona.

It’s weird to see him like this now, especially because you’ve seen him convey every emotion possible on that beautiful face of his; the solemn look he wears now just feels wrong.

"I brought non-alcoholic wine," Mia announces, reaching into her bag and producing two bottles of white wine. Since she’s driving, she’s bringing you along in her sobriety for the day. If it was easy to get an Uber in these parts, she certainly wouldn’t be settling for 0.05%.

You chuckle at the sight, "Seriously? Gary Barlow wine?" you tease, unable to resist poking fun at her choice.

Mia feigns offence, placing a hand dramatically over her heart, "I'll have you know this is my idea of a very nice day out," she retorts, her voice taking on a mock-serious tone as she quotes his TikTok video, struggling to suppress a giggle. "That, and it was £2 off with my clubcard."

You both burst into laughter, her tension from earlier dissipating as you share a lighthearted moment. Grabbing two large glasses, you place them on the table, inviting Mia to pour some for you both.

"How was the drive?" you inquire, taking a small sip of wine.

"It was fine, although longer than I remember," Mia replies with a huff, sinking into a seat opposite Jaeyun. You notice her discomfort as she eyes him, face contorting in a form of disgust, "How has it been here?" she asks, wishing to know how on earth you’re coping in a mansion with such watchful eyes.

"It's a big house, lots to clean. All in all, it's been good.” You sip your wine, struggling to maintain the facade of normalcy.

The urge to confide in Mia, to unburden yourself of the secrets weighing heavily on your shoulders, is almost overwhelming. You want to tell her about the dolls, the ominous door that almost blinded you, and the sense of anxiety you feel sometimes when you roam the hallways. But you swallow the truth down, burying it beneath layers of false smiles and empty reassurances. It's a lonely feeling, knowing that you can't share your fears and anxieties with your closest friend. But for now, it's a burden you'll have to bear alone.

Mia accepts your answer with a sceptical expression, her eyes never wavering from Jaeyun's impassive face, "It's so fucking creepy," she murmurs into her glass, her discomfort evident in her tone, "Do you actually have to place them around the house? Can't you keep them locked up or something?"

You glance at Jaeyun, hoping for a flicker of reassurance in his eyes, but they remain devoid of emotion, sending a shiver down your spine. It's unsettling to see him so detached, his usual warmth replaced by an eerie emptiness.

Gathering your resolve, you pick up your glass and move to stand beside Jaeyun, offering him a supportive smile before responding to Mia. "It's part of the job, Mia. Soonyeol entrusted me with the responsibility of caring for them," you explain, your voice tinged with a mixture of obligation and fondness.

Mia scoffs at your explanation, "Girl, you're in a mansion on your own, just clean up on the last day. It's not like she would notice," she suggests, her nose upturned in disdain. You can tell that this whole situation is deeply unsettling for her, a puzzle she can't quite solve without knowing the full truth. She will never understand until she’s in your shoes.

"It's... nice, to look after them like this," you say wistfully, casting a fond glance down at Jaeyun as you speak.

Unable to resist the urge to offer him a comforting touch, you reach out to tuck a loose strand of Jaeyun's hair behind his ear, a small gesture of affection. Jaeyun wants nothing more than to nuzzle himself into your touch but Sunghoon’s words are still ringing in his mind.

Mia observes your interaction with a mixture of curiosity and concern, her eyes flitting between you and Jaeyun as if trying to decipher the unspoken language passing between you. You’ve only ever looked at one other man the way you look at him and it was your high school sweetheart.

The connection you share with Sunghoon and Jaeyun is utterly unlike anything you've ever known. They resonate with your soul in a way that defies rational explanation, leaving you convinced that they must be otherworldly beings. There has to be more to them than just kindred spirits trapped in the shell of these dolls; no mere human soul could evoke such a profound hold over you.

She scoffs and laughs in disbelief at your act of affection, “You’ve lost it, completely lost it. Being in this house alone has driven you to insanity,” she shakes her head, crossing her arms.

You retract your hand from Jaeyun and look at her in wonder, “What do you mean?”

It’s completely lost on you how this could look to her because for you this is normal. Soonyeol was strange in your eyes when you first arrived, Mia also accused the owner of being crazy, but now you understand Soonyeol and her attachment to her dolls.

Mia's incredulous gaze flickers between you and Jaeyun, her words dripping with disdain. "Look at you fixing that stupid doll's hair!" she exclaims, her voice laced with exasperation as if your actions are the epitome of absurdity, "You're going to turn into that creepy bitch who lives here."

Her words cut through the air like a knife, slicing through the fragile peace of the moment. You can’t feel it but you know Jaeyun would be tensing under her words if he had the ability to. Jaeyun doesn’t like it when people talk bad about his owner, especially since the reason Mia finds her so creepy is because of him and his brothers.

He does understand to an extent that Soonyeol being so young and cooped up with four dolls in a mansion that can only rival the one in Saltburn might be seen as weird, but that doesn’t mean he wants to hear about it, considering the passing comment is from someone who knows nothing about her.

You place a calming hand on Jaeyun's shoulder, your protective instincts kicking into high gear. "Listen, if you're going to run your mouth, just fucking go," you retort harshly, your voice fueled by your need to shield Jaeyun from Mia's unnecessary commentary.

Mia's eyes widen in disbelief, her expression a mixture of shock and frustration. "Y/N, listen to yourself," she chides, her voice tinged with a hint of disappointment, “You've gone stark crazy... maybe you should come home-"

"No!" The word bursts from your lips in a panic, cutting off Mia's well-meaning suggestion before she can finish. The thought of leaving sends a wave of fear coursing through you.

Mia recoils at your outburst, taken aback by the intensity of your reaction. "Y/N, I don't think it's good for you here," she pleads, her tone softening as she reaches out to touch your arm.

But you pull away, shaking your head vehemently. "You literally said I was glowing all but 10 minutes ago," you snap back, narrowing your eyes at her, "Just fucking go."

There's a moment of tense silence as Mia processes your words, her expression shifting from concern to anger. She knows there's no reasoning with you when you're in this state, and she can sense the wall you've built around yourself.

"Fine. I'll see you when you screw your head back on," she spits out at you, her voice dripping with ire and disappointment. With one final, venomous glare at Jaeyun, she grabs her bag and storms out of the room, her footsteps echoing through the halls.

You're left standing there, the echoes of her departure ringing in your ears. Despite the sting of her words, you can't bring yourself to regret your decision to kick her out. At the end of the day, this is the dolls’ house and you wouldn’t like it if someone came into your flat and disrespected you or your belongings.

But you can’t help but process her words as you calm down. You know she is just looking out for you, showing her genuine concern because she knows what isolation can do to someone and their mental state, and maybe she is right. You are attached to the dolls way beyond your own comprehension and it’s taken you just now to truly realise it.

You cussed out your best friend to protect the feelings of a doll. It's a sobering thought, one that fills you with a sense of unease and self-doubt.

Maybe you should have gone with her, go back to your normal life, and forget about this place.

In the silence of the room, you turn to Jaeyun, and suddenly any wish to leave vanishes. Just like that. His face now upturned to look at you with sorrow. He looks so beautiful in this light that his being is almost angelic.

You cup his face with your hands, using your thumbs to stroke any semblance of comfort into him before speaking, "She doesn't mean it, Jaeyun," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper in the hushed atmosphere of the room, "She just doesn't understand."

Jaeyun nods slowly, knowing that you’re trying to appease his mind but what’s said has already bruised him.

Kissing Jaeyun's nose, you offer him a tender smile before gently patting his cheeks. With a sigh, you reluctantly release your hold on him, the weight of the moment hanging heavy in the air, "I'll go check on the others," you murmur softly, "I'll be back in a bit."

_____

You shake off whatever you’re feeling and head through the mansion to help the other dolls. Admittedly, your task for moving them around has become much easier now that Jaeyun and Sunghoon move freely except for dinner time, which has freed up a good chunk of your time.

Each step you take echoes softly off the aged floorboards, their worn surfaces groaning beneath your weight. Sunlight filters sparingly through the windows, casting long shadows that dance across the dimly lit passages, adding to the eerie yet enchanting atmosphere of the mansion.

Sometimes you wonder about its history and its owner. How did a 20-something obtain such a grand house and why does she live alone? Of course, she has the boys but even then you can’t exactly take them on a night in the town. It’s so strange to see someone your age devoid of the usual life a young person would lead; no mobile, no wi-fi, not even a computer in sight.

The more you stay here though, you understand her a little bit better. There’s a comfort in the way this mansion takes your superficial worries away, like how many likes you have on your Instagram post or how people perceive you in general. The eyes that follow you here can’t pass judgment on you, which at the beginning was terrifying but now brings you a strange sort of solace.

As you navigate the labyrinthine corridors of the mansion, you can't help but feel a sense of companionship with the dolls scattered throughout. With each step, you offer a soft greeting to your porcelain companions, their frozen expressions seeming to acknowledge your presence in return. If Mia stayed that day, maybe she wouldn’t have felt so threatened by them.

"Hello there, lovely," you murmur as you pass a doll perched on a velvet chaise longue, her delicate features bathed in the subdued sunlight streaming through the window. You straighten her white-laced dress and smile politely.

Even though the porcelain girl remains silent, you know she’s thankful.

You asked Sunghoon if it was just the four of them who could talk, curious about the dolls that decorate the shelves of the house. He informed you that they aren't sentient beings but each one has a complex past and represents an identity in their own way. Ever since then, you’ve started to view them differently, a new appreciation for them blooming.

While you’re fixing a doll standing regally on the shelf by a towering grandfather clock, her elegant gown billowing around her like a ghostly mist, a faint melody drifts into your ears. It's a common occurrence, though typically happens in the dead of night. Sometimes, in the quiet hours, the strains of a piano tune or the gentle plucking of guitar strings would echo through the halls, adding to the mansion's eerie ambience.

On your first few nights here, it made you quiver under your bed quilt but now you’ve come to find it a beautiful lullaby.

Following the source of the music, you're drawn to the open doors of the music room, their inviting stance beckoning you inside. Peering around the wall, you catch sight of one of the dolls seated with a guitar, fingers moving across the strings with practised ease.

His head hangs low, a curtain of dark brown hair obscuring half of his face, yet you recognize him instantly. It's Jongseong, his broad shoulders and golden complexion a telltale sign, along with his sharp jawline drawing attention to the almost heart-shaped mark on his neck.

You can't help but admire the striking beauty that emanates from him, even in this quiet moment of solitude. Sunghoon and Jaeyun's stories about his kindness flood you and memories of his selfless gestures are etched vividly in your brain.

You recall the time when Jongseong risked getting caught just to offer you a simple plaster for your pricked finger, his compassion shining through despite the potential consequences. And then there are the small, subtle acts of care that he continues to bestow upon you, like the glass of water that mysteriously appears by your bedside table each morning, a silent gesture of his thoughtfulness.

Then there's the delicate daisy that sometimes rests on your pillow before you go to bed for the night, a token from the front garden that Jongseong must have plucked with care, knowing how much you adore its simple beauty. Every day you go outside and admire the flower as it basks in the summer sun, its life a brightness to contrast the otherwise dreary house.

Jaeyun and Sunghoon both deny any involvement in the sweet actions, leaving Jongseong as the only possible culprit.

“You can come in you know,” his voice suddenly speaks over the gently strum.

Your breath catches at the unexpected sound of his voice, and you freeze in place, startled by his acknowledgement of your presence. For a fleeting moment, you wonder if you imagined it, but the gentle strumming of the guitar persists, a soothing backdrop to his quiet words.

With cautious steps, you inch further into the room, the rhythmic thud of your heart echoing in your ears and adding percussion to his song. Jongseong's gaze remains fixed on the strings of the guitar, his hair casting shadows across his face that do little to mask his smirk.

Now how does he know that you know about him?

Jongseong suddenly screeches the guitar to a halt, his eyes lifting to meet yours with an air of knowingness, "You seem in shock for some reason," he observes, his voice soft yet perceptible in the stillness of the room. With careful precision, he returns the guitar to its glass cabinet.

Your heart skips a beat, torn between maintaining the facade of ignorance and embracing the truth about Jongseong's secret. As his gaze holds yours, uncertainty gnaws at you, leaving your voice hesitant and faltering. "I... I am?" you manage to utter, the words tinged with a hint of doubt.

Wow, so convincing, Y/N, you internally chastise yourself for the lacklustre response, feeling the weight of your indecision bearing down on you. But before you can gather your thoughts and make a quick save for your fumble.

"Jaeyun and Sunghoon are terrible liars," he remarks, his voice calm and composed. "And I saw you just there, comforting Jaeyun because of what your friend said."

His candid admission catches you off guard, leaving you momentarily speechless. Just like Sunghoon, Jongseong quickly discerned the truth, his thoughts solidified by Mia's careless words and your instinctive need to shield Jaeyun.

Exhaling slowly, you release the tension that had knotted your muscles, allowing yourself to relax a fraction. "She really doesn’t mean it," you clarify to Jongseong, hoping to ease his mind as you had done with his brother.

"It’s okay, you look fucking crazy, to be fair, fussing over some dolls," he replies, his tone surprisingly nonchalant, much to your relief. Considering Jongseong’s caring nature, you wouldn’t want her words to bruise his kind spirit.

You bristle at his casual reference to them as 'dolls,' unable to bear the thought of diminishing their significance, "You aren’t just 'some dolls,' Jongseong," you protest, your voice laced with compassion.

Rising from his seat, Jongseong offers a faint smile as he approaches you with unthreatening steps. "We know that, but she doesn’t. Don’t be too hard on her," he reassures calmingly, his words like a balm to the part of your brain that had been feuding with Mia, now quieting and subsiding under his simple wisdom.

As his hand gently strokes your hair, you feel a sense of comfort wash over you, his touch soothing the lingering unease in your mind. His fingers then trace down to your chin, his touch tender, "You’re good with him, you know, with Jaeyun," he observes softly, his eyes holding a depth of understanding that draws you in.

"He brings out a protective side of me, I don’t really know why," you admit quietly, your eyes locked with Jongseong's as you speak. His half-smirk in response only deepens the adoration reflected in your widened pupils. He closes his eyes like he knows something you don't.

Jongseong playfully pinches your chin before withdrawing his hand, "Yeah, Soonyeol has been the same ever since she got him," he remarks.

"Have you been here longer than him?" you inquire, your curiosity piqued as you gesture towards the kitchen where you left Jaeyun.

"I’ve been here for…a long time," Jongseong reveals, his voice tinged with a hint of reminiscence, "Heeseung for 8, Sunghoon for 4, and Jaeyun just over a year.."

The weight of his words swirls in your mind, each year marking a chapter in their shared history within the mansion's walls. You find yourself marvelling at the depth of their experiences, each doll carrying different memories and stories within their hollow frames. It now makes sense why Jaeyun knows so little.

That nugget of information must also mean that Jongseong knows everything there is to know about this place, about each of his brothers, if he has been here for so long. Maybe asking him will unlock the mysteries of this place.

"I'm not trying to pry," you begin tentatively, causing Jongseong to lift his brow in curiosity, "But how can you guys...how are you able to talk?" Your voice trails off slightly as you pose the question, a hint of apprehension colouring your words.

To your surprise, Jongseong chuckles softly and smiles wider in response, "Sunghoon mentioned you were snooping around when you arrived," he remarks, a twinkle of amusement dancing in his eyes. After a moment of silence, he lets out a long breath, contemplating his next actions before continuing, "You won't give up until we tell you, will you?"

His words catch you off guard, a mixture of relief and curiosity flooding through you. Despite your initial hesitation, Jongseong's casual response reassures you, hopefully paving the way for an open and honest conversation that can curb your nosiness.

“Come on and I’ll show you.”

_____

With intertwined fingers, Jongseong leads you into the library, your mind buzzing with anticipation at the possibilities of what he could be showing you. You grip his hand tighter, excitement coursing through your veins as he pulls you towards the far end of the room.

But as you near that god-awful painting of the sheep, a sense of dread washes over you, sending a chill down your spine. Suddenly, you release Jongseong's hand, the realisation of what he's doing hitting you like a ton of bricks.

"Oh, no, no, no," you protest vehemently, shaking your head in refusal, "I am NOT going near that room."

Your mind flashes back to the burning sensation in your eyes, the eerie red light searing into your retinas. Over the past few weeks, you've actively avoided that creepy room, refusing to even glance in its direction. Your curiosity may be insatiable, but you draw the line at risking letting out whatever is in there just in the name of discovering a secret.

Your irises mirror the turmoil within you, reflecting the fear and trepidation that grips your heart. You've made a vow to steer clear of that door and any other painting in this place, focusing your investigations on less ominous artefacts like locked cupboards and hidden pages within books.

Jongseong looks at you with concern, his brows furrowing in disbelief as he processes your words, “You know about this door?" he asks incredulously, wondering how on earth you ever managed to find it.

"Yes, and I am not going near it," you retort defiantly, crossing your arms over your chest like a stubborn child, "It almost blinded me!"

As you stand your ground, refusing to budge an inch, Jongseong's expression softens, his concern evident in the gentle gaze he fixes upon you, "I promise you, Sweetheart, there is nothing in there that can hurt you, not when I'm with you, okay?" he reassures, his hand finding yours once more as he brings it to his lips, kissing away the surge of fear that threatens to engulf you.

You can see the sincerity in his eyes, knowing that he will protect you from whatever dangers may lie beyond that wooden door.

With a hesitant nod, you allow Jongseong to lead you forward, you trust him but you’re still cautious enough to keep your wits about you, trailing two steps behind him.

Reaching the top of the wooden panel that frames the door, he takes the spare key and unlocks the door. It was really in front of you the entire time and you had no clue; you’re no Sherlock Holmes, that’s for sure.

You let out a breath and scrunch your face, being ready for anything as he swings the door open. Yet, you’re met with darkness - no red light, no flickering flames, nothing like what you saw through the keyhole.

But why does that scare you more?

Jongseong pulls you in, his grip on your hand loosening as he flicks on some lanterns. The room, once plunged with darkness now has a soft glow from the lanterns as they gradually illuminate the space, revealing its secrets in flickering shadows.

It's a stark contrast to the rest of the mansion, with its black stone walls absorbing the light rather than reflecting it. The air feels heavy with the weight of something you can’t put your finger on, every corner whispering tales of those you’ll never understand or know.

In the centre of the room stands an altar, its surface weathered with age and a stone bowl resting atop it like an ancient relic. Symbols etched into the stone tell stories that you can’t translate, the old language lost on you.

As you take in the sight before you, a shiver runs down your spine, a mixture of apprehension and curiosity coursing through your veins. Where did the red light come from if everything in here looks like it belongs in the Addams Family house?

"What is all this?" you ask, your curiosity overcoming any sense of apprehension as you creep closer to the altar. It's reminiscent of ones you've seen in movies depicting satanic rituals, yet even with its eerie aura, you can't resist the urge to touch it, your fingers tracing the lines of its rim.

"The office," Jongseong replies casually, as if this were a mundane space for everyday tasks like taxes and emails. He flicks on the last lantern and shuts the door firmly, ensuring privacy and avoiding suspicion from any passersby.

As you stand mesmerised by the ceremonial bowl, Jongseong notices your admiration and smiles, "This is the ceremonial bowl," he begins to explain, his body now behind yours, his presence both comforting and electrifying as he presses slightly against you. His fingers intertwine with yours, guiding your touch along the edge of the bowl, "This is how we were summoned"

"Summoned?" you echo, your voice barely above a whisper as you turn to face Jongseong, your eyes wide with disbelief and intrigue.

“Oh, Sweetheart, to bring a doll to life, you need to give it an entity.”

“An entity as in…”

“Any form of life; angel, demon, human, that sort of thing. Someone calls and we answer”

The revelation sends a chill down your spine, the idea of imbuing a doll with the essence of a supernatural being is both fascinating and terrifying.

As you process this new information, you can't help but wonder about the origins of the dolls in this mansion, and the entities that dwell within them. They all possess such different charms and energies that you can only imagine each of them comes from different channels of spirits.

“So what are you then?” you ask Jongseong, your voice tinged with curiosity and a hint of trepidation.

“I’ll leave you to guess that one,” he replies cryptically, pressing himself up against you until your back meets the edge of the altar. The cool stone digs into your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

"But you aren’t scared of me, are you, Sweetheart?" he continues, his breath warm against your ear as he speaks. You shake your head, unable to deny the truth, "Then that will give you some clue," he murmurs, his words hanging in the air between you like a tantalizing riddle waiting to be solved.

You stand locked in this intimate embrace, his presence gentle despite the surroundings.

“What about your bodies?” you inquire, your curiosity getting the better of you even though you're not entirely sure what you're asking. Obviously, they didn’t come from the pits of hell or wherever they're from, but you're curious about how Soonyeol managed to choose four dolls, each so perfectly suited to their personalities.

Jongseong tilts his head slightly, considering your question before responding, "Our bodies are vessels," he explains, his voice tinged with a hint of mystery, “We were crafted by the hands of Soonyeol, infused with the ashes of her loved ones.”

Jongseong's response sends shivers down your arms and legs, his words so compelling that they leave you speechless for a minute, "Infused with the ashes of her loved ones?" you repeat, your voice barely above a whisper, your head whirling, your throat dry as you attempt to swallow your nerves.

But before you can fully process what he said, Jongseong breaks out laughing, the sound reverberating off the walls of the poorly lighted room, "She just ordered them online," he says between laughter, his tone lighthearted. "That part isn't as evil unless you count the CO2 emissions from the planes."

Relief floods through you as you realise he’s just joking. You can't help but join in his laughter, the tension melting away as you shake your head in disbelief.

"Oh, you had me going there for a moment," you admit with a chuckle, feeling foolish for having been momentarily taken in by his playful deception.

Jongseong grins mischievously, his eyes twinkling with mirth, "I can give you the link to the site if you want? I know how much fun you’ve been having with the younger ones," he remarks, his laughter fading into a sly grin.

Your cheeks burn crimson at Jongseong's implication, and you shy away slightly, feeling a familiar wave of embarrassment wash over you. It's the same feeling you experienced when Sunghoon called you out for your rendezvous with Jaeyun, a reminder of the unconventional nature of your relationships with the dolls.

You can't shake the nagging feeling that at the end of the day, you're still fucking dolls, no matter how much Sunghoon and Jaeyun reassure you to embrace it. To be fair, the embarrassment hasn’t stopped you yet.

Seeing your flushed face even in the dim light, Jongseong's expression softens with understanding. He cradles your cheeks in his palms, his touch gentle as he strokes your flushed skin, "I'm not judging you, Princess," he murmurs, his voice tender. "I'm just feeling a little left out." He says playfully, making it hard to tell if he is serious or not.

But still his words catch you off guard and you meet his stare with a mixture of surprise and confusion. At that moment, you realise that Jongseong embodies the best of both worlds - the kindness and empathy of Jaeyun, coupled with the confidence and assurance of Sunghoon, coupled with his charm. It's a combination that draws you to him even more, creating a sense of longing.

Throwing caution to the wind, you act on impulse, letting go of any lingering doubts or hesitations. With a surge of boldness, you lean up and press your lips against Jongseong's, catching him off guard with the suddenness of your actions.

His eyes widen in shock at your sudden boldness, but they quickly darken with unmistakable hunger as he responds eagerly to your advance, smothering your mouth with his.

The kiss is electric, igniting a firestorm of sensations that consume you both, leaving you breathless and craving more. His lips are soft yet demanding against yours, his hands finding purchase on your waist as he pulls you closer, his touch somehow searing hot through your skin.

Jongseong groans as he dances his tongue with yours, the artificial buds on his muscle soaking in your taste. You suck on his tongue softly, eliciting a low snarl from him, his hand coming up to grip your hair roughly, while yours slide up his t-shirt, feeling the bumps of his toned tummy.

Drawing back from his lips, you see his entity burning with desire, his grip on you tightening, “Have you ever been fucked on an altar?” he asks, a smirk obvious on his face even in the dull lighting.

“No,” you breathe out, your chest heaving from the kiss.

“I’ll change that for you…if you’re a good girl,” he teases, the hand wrapped in the strands of your hair pushing your head down until you’re slowly following his guidance, sinking to your knees. From this angle, he looks like a god, a being worth worshipping as his aura glows white.

You know exactly what he wants and you’re willing to give it to him without question.

He undoes his belt with one hand, whipping it off hastily and placing it on the altar. You start to undo his trousers but as you move to assist him, your actions are abruptly halted by a sharp tug on your hair, forcing you back with a gasp.

Tears threaten to well in your eyes as the roots of your hair protest the forceful grip, but Jongseong's touch softens as quickly as it had hurt you, his hand now tenderly soothing the discomfort he caused.

"I need you to be good for me. It’s important to be good," he asserts, his voice commanding yet soft, "Only act when I say so, understood? I don't want to have to punish you, Princess. You don’t want that either, do you?"

His choice of words and gentle warning only add to the dampness in your pants, the material fully sticking to your wet cunt. You swallow hard as every word, every touch from Jongseong ignites your sense of being.

Shaking your head, you wonder if you want to obey him and avoid punishment as part of you wonders how far he could go with it.

Jongseong’s a gentle soul with kindness pouring out of him, you question whether it’s a facade to hide something more demanding underneath. Either way, you trust him, so even if you wanted to get a little bratty, you know he would cause you no real harm.

Both his hands are now on your cheeks, trapping you to look at him, “Words, Princess, use them,” he orders.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, licking your lips as you anticipate his cock laying firm on your tongue.

“Sweetheart, I’ll let you off this once, yeah? Just make sure you listen from now on,” Jongseong offers you a smile, patting your cheeks lightly before continuing, “If you ever want to stop, or I go too far, you tell me immediately. No amount of my pleasure is worth your discomfort.”

Smiling, you nod and quickly remember his instructions, “I will, Jongseong.”

Jongseong's gaze relaxes further with an accepting nod, and his touch is delicate against your skin, "Good girl," he says, his words a quiet affirmation of your submission.

He gives you the go-ahead to continue undoing his trousers which you eagerly do, your fingers quick to release the silver button and pull down his zip, leaving his trousers pooled at his ankles. You can see his member in the protruding silhouette of his boxers. Out of all the dolls, you’ve been most impressed by Jongseong, his cock is everything a person could dream of; girthy, long, like something off of Love Honey in the best seller’s section.

You discard his boxers next, leaving his member to spring into action. He is so fucking beautiful, you think to yourself, admiring every part of the craftsmanship that went into making such a wonder. Raising your hand, you go to wrap your hand around him gently but you pause, realising you probably need to be told that you can indulge yourself.

Jongseong notices your hesitation and lets out a chuckle, his smile morphing into a knowing smirk as you meet his gaze with eager anticipation, "You're free to go, Princess" he announces, much to your delight, and you need no further encouragement.

Grabbing the base of his shaft you pump him a few times, the soft feeling of his skin welcomed along your fingertips. You open your mouth, staring at him as you lick the tip of his shaft a few times, each time pulsing in your hand. The mechanics of these cocks is a wonder, how realistic they all are.

He gathers your hair in his hands, brushing the wispy strands from your face adoringly, careful not to be too rough with you just yet. You look beautiful to him right now, your tongue swirling around his head, the saliva trail you’re leaving behind every time you remove your plump lips to gather your breath. Soonyeol is beautiful, but you’re like his dream come true. There’s a pang of guilt as he thinks about it but when you start sucking his cock lightly, every thought goes out the window.

Hollowing your cheeks, you pump his cock and use your tongue to massage his bell in your warm mouth, the sensation of his cold cock in contrast to your warmth adds a new layer to your pleasure, already excited to feel him deep in your heat.

His size makes it difficult to fully take him in, so you use a combination of hand and mouth technique. You see the small subtleties in Jongseong's expression - the wrinkle of his brow, the tightening hold of his fist that inadvertently tugs at your hair again - and realise he doesn't mind how you are approaching it, he maybe even loves it.

It gives you a flutter in your tummy as you see his jaw slacking and his hips subconsciously twitching with pleasure. You’re an overachiever, have been your whole life, and while this is doing him wonders right now, you know you can do better.

Popping off his cock, you tap him on your outstretched tongue, grinning widely when his eyes meet yours. With his attention on you, you force him back in your throat, gagging slightly but relishing in the burn, your hands gripping his muscular thighs.

He hisses as with each bob, he hits your throat, “Fuck,” he grits out, pushing slightly to test the boundaries, and when you gag loudly, saliva dripping down your chin with a spurt, he instantly retreats, “Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he soothes, his hand lifting your chin.

But you liked it, weirdly, the feeling of choking on his cock stirred something inside you, and your thighs become sticky with your arousal that is dripping down - and Jongseong noticed.

“Wait did you like it?” he asks, tightening his hold on your jaw, “You want me to fuck that beautiful throat of yours wide open?”

God, yes.

With a nod and eyes full of want, you silently express your desire for him to completely ruin you. However, as you resume, a swift smack to your cheek jolts you, rendering a grimace as you look up at him, perplexed.

"Words, Sweetheart, be a good girl," Jongseong prompts, his voice carrying both authority and care. A flicker of understanding crosses his expression as he reaches out to stroke your cheek where his hand had landed moments before. "I'm here to give you what you need," he reassures, his touch tender against your skin, "But you have to tell me."

With a deep breath, you muster the courage to voice your desire, "I want you to fuck my throat," you whisper.

"That wasn’t so hard, was it?" he murmurs, his tone gentle as he encourages your honesty. ain some ways, submitting to a man like this is embarrassing, yet you can’t help but feel completely in control at the same time. He’s giving you the option to have whatever you want, something the other two don’t let you do. Jaeyun lets you take control but it’s all for his pleasure, not for your own, and Sunghoon doesn’t let you do anything on your own at all.

As Jongseong begins to push into your mouth, an upsurge of sensations overwhelms you: the hardness of him filling your mouth, the taste of him combining with your saliva, and the sting of tears welling up in your eyes. Despite this, a pleasure runs through your veins, sparking a burning yearning within you, you want more of him, desperately.

Jongseong's voice cut through the veil of your shared satisfaction, "You're doing so well, Sweetheart," he says, his words a calming symphony contrasting to the burning in your throat.

You respond with a muffled moan, your mouth full as you eagerly take him in, your body responding instinctively to his every touch.

"I love how you take me," Jongseong whispers, his voice laced with reverence and desire, "You're so good for me. You were born to suck on my cock.”

His words alone are making your clit throb and you can’t take the emptiness, so, you reach down and dip your hand into your panties, circling your clit in rhythm with his thrusts. He continues chanting your praises, so lost in the feeling of your mouth that he hasn’t noticed you seek your own pleasure.

As Jongseong continues to revel in the pleasure of your mouth, a sudden interruption jolts him from his trance-like state. Feeling the subtle shift in your movements, he realises what you’re up to.

With a swift motion, he withdraws from your mouth, his grip firm on your head as he pulls you up to meet his gaze. The intensity in his eyes is palpable, a mix of desire and admonition as he takes in the sight of you, flushed and needy, beneath him.

"Sweetheart, what do you think you're doing?" he chides, his voice low but commanding, “I didn’t give you permission to touch yourself, did it?"

“N-no…I just need you so bad, Jongseong.”

Your quivering voice of desperation makes Jongseong’s knees weak, that playful yet needy glint in your eye begging him to take you on the altar. He knows he has to punish you but you look so fucking sweet with your lips plump and drool on either side of your mouth that he’s almost forgiving you. You speak about the power the dolls have, but you have no idea the power you hold over them.

But he knows he can't let your transgression go unpunished. With a sigh, he reaches out to cup your cheek, his touch gentle but firm. "I understand, Sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice tinged with feigned regret, "But rules are rules, and I can't make exceptions."

You accidentally let out a groan of frustration, rubbing your thighs together, hoping the friction can tide you over until he touches you.

sighing, Jongseong reaches out to caress your trembling thighs, his touch gentle yet possessive, "I know you're desperate," he murmurs into your neck, teasingly hovering over your nape with his lips, “So get on the fucking altar.”

With a whimper of surrender, you comply without hesitation, the anticipation of what's to come heightening your senses as you hoist up on the alter, positioning yourself on the edge. Every nerve in your body hums with anticipation, the need for his touch driving you to the brink of madness.

You’re glad that you wore a sundress today, planning to have a fun girls' day with Mia had its benefits even if it went horribly wrong.

In an instant, he rips off your panties, tossing them in the alter bowl haphazardly and hikes the skirt of your dress to your waist. Your pussy looks so delectable that he thinks prolonging stuffing you with his cock might be a punishment to himself rather than you.

But Jongseong is a man of his word, and if he doesn’t let Soonyeol away with anything, he certainly can’t let you.

He slaps your thigh sharply, a red mark appearing instantly against your skin, “Move back,” he demands, slapping your thigh once again. His tone is authoritive so you do as you’re told, not wanting to disappoint him anymore.

You spread your legs without direction, hoping your compliance will warrant an early yield in your punishment, whatever it may be. Jongseong licks his lips and smiles triumphantly, falling into your trap.

Yet, just as you begin to feel a glimmer of relief, Jongseong's hand comes down with brutal force, striking your pussy with a harsh slap that echoes through the room. The pain is searing, making you cry out in shock and agony, the sound reverberating off the walls as your body recoils from the impact. Each consecutive smack creates a new wave of pain, coupled with a surge of stimulation that makes you dizzy with sensations.

With each hit, Jongseong's expression regret, yet his actions are a contradiction of brutality, "I'm sorry, Princess," he says between strikes, his voice heavy with sorrow, even as his hand strikes you again, "I know it hurts but every act of defiance deserves punishment," Jongseong whispers, his voice an odd soothing balm, "We’re almost done, just two more, you can handle that right?”

His question, paired with the gentle caress of his fingers against your throbbing pussy, relaxes you, knowing that he meant it when he said he would stop if you wanted him to. Even now, as he looks at you, he's silently permitting you to end this.

But you don't want to. Not yet. The ache between your legs, the desperate need for him, drives you to endure just a little longer, "I can take it, Jongseong," you utter, your voice steady despite the trembling of your body. With a slow exhale, you brace yourself for the final two strikes, determined to prove your endurance and earn the reward awaiting you.

Jongseong's gaze softens with admiration, his hand hovering momentarily before delivering the next blow, "You're so strong, Princess," he murmurs, his voice laced with genuine admiration, "I'm proud of you."

The words, spoken amid your ordeal, fill you with a sense of validation, a reassurance that despite the pain, you're still cherished and valued in his eyes. Even though he warned you this would happen and you disobeyed him, he still gives you praise.

He delivers the last smack with force, putting punctuation on the end of your punishment, hoping that you’ve learned your lesson. And by fuck you have.

Bringing you forward, he sits you up straight, "You've done so well," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your forehead, "Now, let me take care of you."

Without hesitation, he takes his cock and slides himself inside your throbbing pussy, the sensation being both a culmination of need and a reminder of the pain you've endured.

But as he begins to move within you, the rhythm of his thrusts slow and deliberate, you find yourself surrendering to the pleasure that washes over you. The intensity of the moment is overwhelming as you finally get what you've been craving for.

You moan softly, your hands grasping at his shoulders as you surrender to the intoxicating rhythm of his touch.

But just as you feel yourself on the brink of ecstasy, Jongseong pulls out abruptly, leaving you gasping for more. "Please," you whimper, your voice thick with need.

Jongseong's fingers find their way to your throbbing clit, flicking it with expert precision, "Not yet, Sweetheart," he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear, "I want to make this last."

The sensation is electrifying, sending you reeling with desire as Jongseong teases you mercilessly. "Jongseong," you plead, your voice a desperate cry for more but he only chuckles, his touch driving you to the edge of sanity as he pushes you closer and closer to the brink.

And then, just when you think you can't take it any longer, he plunges back inside you, the intensity of his thrusts driving you to the edge of oblivion once more, "Yes!" you cry out, your body arching against his as pleasure consumes you.

Just as you're about to tip over the edge, Jongseong grips your throat gently, his touch both commanding and reassuring, posing no real threat, "You're such a good girl," he murmurs, his voice low and husky as he grabs your attention, "Yet, you've been so bad. Snooping around, looking at things you shouldn't, fucking things that aren't yours." There’s a sly grin on his face as he pulls out again, leaving your hole clenching around nothing, tears threatening to fall as your impending orgasm is ripped away from you again.

Jongseong continues to torment you, his words cutting through the haze of desire, you can't help but feel a sense of vulnerability wash over you, "Was the last punishment enough for everything you've been up to?" he asks, his tone laced with both curiosity and a hint of warning.

Your breath catches in your throat as you meet his stare, the weight of his question hanging heavy in the air. You know that you've pushed the boundaries, looking around the mansion even when you promised Sunghoon you wouldn’t, and indulged in pleasures that were not yours to claim.

With a shaky breath, you nod slowly, your voice barely above a whisper, "Yes, Jongseong," you murmur, your heart pounding in your chest, "I've learned my lesson."

“Oh, yeah?” he smirks, looking at the ceremonial bowl prettily decorated with your frilly underwear, “You sure?”

Your desperation mounts as you chant a series of "Yes's," your pleas echoing in the cold air of the room. Every fibre of your being screams for him, the ache between your legs driving you to the brink of madness.

And just when you think you can't bear the anticipation any longer, Jongseong plunges back into you, his gaze still fixated on your underwear. The intensity of his thrusts sends shivers of pleasure running through your hot veins, yet beneath it all, a nagging curiosity tugs at the edges of your consciousness.

If you were in your right mind, you would question his fascination with the garments adorning the ceremonial bowl. As he picks up the frilly underwear with his middle finger, a spike of anticipation plagues you, mingling with the pulsating waves of pleasure emanating from his touch. And then, his voice cuts through the air, commanding and authoritative.

"Spit on them, Sweetheart," he instructs, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Without hesitation, you comply, summoning every ounce of saliva you can muster before releasing it onto the delicate fabric. The sight of your saliva coating the underwear sends a shiver down your spine, a mix of arousal and confusion swirling within you.

But before you can question his motives, Jongseong's touch intensifies, driving you to the brink of ecstasy once more and rips it away as he tosses the underwear into the bowl once more.

“No! Please, please, don’t stop fucking me, Jongseong. I promise I won’t snoop around or do anything without you telling me to.”

Your voice is desperate but you don’t care, if he denies you of your orgasm even just once more, you might die on this altar you’re perched on.

Jongseong's eyes light up with expectation, his hand tightening around your throat in a possessive hold while his other lingers over the ceremonial bowl, his muttering casting a dark spell in a foreign language.

Then suddenly, the crimson light floods the room, the same flash of red that almost blinded you. Terror holds you like a vice, pulling at your senses while flames lick hungrily in the air. Instinct urges you to go, to escape the flame that threatens to engulf you, but Jongseong's grip holds you tied to the altar.

There is no escape.

"Shhh, Princess it's okay, it won't hut you. I just need you to beg me," he says, his stare penetrating through the chaos with uncompromising focus, his left hand now sliding to tap on your clit with planned precision, sending waves of thrill surging through your body as he continues, lips hovering yours in a whisper, “Let Hell hear how much you need my cock.”

Hell.

The fire that is burning your skin beside you, that’s what you saw that day through the keyhole, you came face to face with the underworld. And now Jongseong’s opened it up beside you.

Summoning every ounce of courage you possess, you meet his gaze, your voice a trembling whisper as you utter the words he demands. "Please, Jongseong," you beg, the desperation in your tone echoing through the dimly lit chamber, "Fuck me, I need your cock so fucking bad."

His grasp on your throat tightens somewhat, a subtle acceptance of your surrender. With a hungry grin, he moves in closer, his breath hot on your ear, whispering pretty promises, and as his hand continues to work its magic on your clit, you totally yield to him despite the fear rising inside you.

Kissing you, he fucks back into you, letting go of your throat and focusing all his attention on making you feel good, his hands finding home on your hips.

The more you moan, the more intense the fire becomes, some of the flicker burning your arm. Jongseong notices your unease and focuses your eyes to look only at him, “It can’t hurt you, I wouldn’t let them,” he whispers, his words causing more confusion but you’re already so far gone, lost in the feeling of his cock punching into your cervix that you can’t question him.

"You're doing fucking amazing, Sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice filled with admiration and desire. "I want you to scream my name, let all those fucks know what a good girl you are, that you’ll never be like them.” His jab at those below you in the underworld makes your skin tingle.

With each thrust, pleasure courses through you like wildfire, igniting every nerve ending and leaving you breathless with ecstasy. And as you surrender to the overwhelming pleasure, you heed Jongseong's command, your screams echoing through the chamber as you give yourself over to him.

The flames in the bowl seem to dance to the rhythm of you and Jongseong’s passionate encounter, with each blow of his cock piercing your open, the more you cry out, and that excited the crimson glow.

As the intensity of your pleasure builds to a crescendo, you feel yourself teetering on the edge, every fibre of your being yearning for release. And with one final, desperate cry, you let go, surrendering yourself completely to the overwhelming waves of ecstasy that wash over you.

Jongseong feels you coming undone and follows suit, his cock twitching inside you and hips pushing him as far as he can reach inside you.

Once the fires begin to fade, leaving just embers blazing gently in the darkness, you feel yourself returning to reality, your senses gradually returning to you. You notice the air is thick with the odour of burnt cloth and the remains of the fire that previously raged around you.

With a shock, you look down and notice the charred remains of your underwear smouldering in the ceremonial bowl, the flames having eaten them in their fervour. Panic grabs you for a minute, but suddenly Jongseong's voice breaks through the quiet, his words a calming salve.

"I get why the others are obsessed with you, Y/N," he says, his tone filled with admiration and longing, "You belong here, I know you do."

Despite his assuring words and gentle touch as he slips out of you, his hands soothing where he has left marks, lingering questions gnaw at the edges of your mind. "Jongseong," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, "what was that fire? And what did you mean by 'those fucks' down there? Was it hell?"

Jongseong’s expression softens, his fingers gently caressing your thighs, his actions were stupid and selfish in the name of his brothers and Soonyeol. He knows he shouldn’t have done that, but he just had to show you off, let everyone know that you were his at least once, “Y/N," he says softly, his eyes filled with a mixture of fondness and concern, "there are some things you're better off not knowing. Trust me."

His words give you pause but you’re sick of the secrecy now, “Tell me, Jongseong. I will find out one way or another,” you press him, hoping your tone is half as commanding as he was, “Just tell me, what the fuck was that?”

“Go to Heeseung. He can explain it far better than I can and to be honest, I don’t want to see your face when you find out,” he says suddenly, his tone firm but gentle. Confusion flickers in your eyes, but before you can question him further, Jongseong presses a tender kiss to your forehead, “I will warn you though, Sweetheart, he won’t take kindly to being last.”

taglist: @nshmrarki @kgneptun @ui11iane @addictedtohobi @parksunghoonsgf @chaewonshoney @chiiiiiiiiis @lilyuwon @rayofsunshineeee @moon7jay @erehkinnie30 @brownsugarbaybee @minniejenseo @woninluv @jaysluvs @fakeuwus @capri-cuntz @ash024 @who-tf-soddhi @bambangan @vousty @heeseungspookie @alvojake @yorukoshii @haechonly @riftanswhore @belowbun @emi-en @branchrkive @featjunranghae @thejjrl @nyxtwixx @sunghoonnsupremacy @nctislifue @itsnikitty @enhypenlovre

#enhypen smut #enha smut #enhypen x reader #jay smut #jongseong smut #jay x reader #aj writes #park jongseong smut #the doll house #enhypen fic

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starillusion13 · 10 months

Text

Our Party

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Coming to face them after years at a club where you went to enjoy with your friends to relieve stress on a weekend is unfortunate for you.Really though? You had parted your ways back then and now they don’t matter to you. But is that same for them?

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Pairing: ot8 x f!reader (poly!ateez x reader)

Genre: Fluff, Smut, Mature, Yandere

Warnings: possessiveness, controlling act and obsession.(there are arguments between them a bit but remember Ateez is too good to do that).Gang bang. Exhibition. Oral(f.recv),dom!ateez, cum play,nipple play,anal sex, overstimulation, orgasm denial,fingering, a bit of pain, exhaustion,marking,biting,sucking, drinking, making up sex without protection ( don’t do it in real life if you don’t want to unnecessarily increase the population.)

W.C: 11.9k

Note: @justhere4kpop my dear friend has requested me for poly ateez (the one in the event post) and I can’t just ignore it so bear with this ‘don’t know what to do’ fic.

Taglist: In the end of the fic

Come on everybody. Slow it down, make it bouncy.

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Network: @cultofdionysusnet @k-vanity

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MINORS DO NOT INTERACT UNDER THE POST🔞

*Buckle up your seatbelts and lets go on a long ride.*

“Wow…...” your eyes sparkling while looking at the mirror which is reflecting your figure in the new dress. You are dressed up in a body hugging black strapless dress ending on your mid-thigh. You didn’t expect it to look so good on you. Well, you are going out to a night club with your friends after getting an off for one week from the workplace. So, to relieve the stress of your overtime work from your previous month, this is the best option for you. Satisfied with your look, you glanced at the clock and it shows exactly eight in the night and your friend might come up anytime soon to pick you up.

Just the moment you locked the main door behind you, a voice spoke up.

“Hey beautiful!” OMG don’t. This voice is so deep and attractive and you know the owner of this damn voice very well. Turning around, you found the gorgeous man standing in front of you with a white funky t-shirt and torn styled denim jeans. His newly died silver hair with this casual outfit is making him the most attractive man to ever exist.

“Oh my god Taeyong please. I mean don’t call me like this when am just your best friend, I might end up proposing you on this spot here right now.” You fake gasped and then ended up laughing with him. Your other friend who is in the car made a loud horn sound to bring both of your attention towards him, Jaehyun. Another attractive man in your life, you don’t know why they are your best friends when they could have got other girls to make friends but all three of you are friends since middle school and then are inseparable. Well maybe I look good too.

“Let’s go. Hurry up or that grumpy ass will invite the whole colony with this horn.” You both are continuously laughing on your way towards the car. Getting inside it, Taeyong sat on the passenger seat and you in the back because you love to lean in between the space of front two seats to annoy them. You three made your ride to The Neo Bouncy Club.

Getting outside the car, Taeyong holds your hand on one side and you glance to your other side to take a look of Jaehyun, then you see him in his black shirt and denims with hands folded till elbow. Oh gosh! This man. He looks at you and then smirked. Taeyong pulled you towards the entrance and the other one followed you two.

Entering the club, your nose hit with the usual alcohol smell mixed with some fruit flavored smokes. The neon green disco lights all around the dance floor blinking with the rhythm of the music playing aloud. You smiled when you remember that you are here for fun with your friends so you pulled both of them towards the drink section.

“Shall we order drinks?” hoping to get positive reply, they both denied. Weird. Jaehyun is always usually the one to offer drinks among you three then what’s the cause of sudden change in behaviour.

“I don’t think we should drink now.” The tall one said looking at you and then towards Taeyong who was busy reading out the different names of the drinks displayed on the screen and making annoyed face when not getting the actual pronunciations. You flicked on his head.

“Ouch! What?” Taeyong with confusion in his eyes looks at you both.

“I told her we should not drink now knowing who is here.” Taeyong paused for a moment, expression changing to serious similarly as Jaehyun. He then nodded on his friend’s words.

“Woah wait there. Who is here?”

If they are referring to rest of NCT then you know, Kun will scold you for drinking when he knows how badly you and Taeyong can’t control yourselves in drunk state.

“Them.”

Both of them replied together while settling down with you on one of the corner sofas. You looked at them laughing loudly.

“So? It’s not like I will listen to Kun today. I am here for fun and I can do anything so come on with me, don’t let anyone to stop us from having fun.”

Jaehyun looking directly to you when speaking.

“Y/N……. it’s not about Kun. It’s them.”

He glanced towards a crowd of people dancing, you mimic his action but saw no one. You failed to notice that someone was staring at you from there all this time. You turned back to them, “Fine. You stay here, me and Taeyong will enjoy so see you later boy.”

“Y/N-” you pulled the said man towards the dance floor with you and on your way, you both took some drinks for yourselves.

Someone behind you both did the same thing.

Taeyong turns you to face him, “Y/N, they are here. I know I should not bring up this right now but unfortunately when entering the club, I saw them, ATEEZ. All of them are here. I locked eyes with one of them and they know now that am aware of their coming.”

Your smiling face disappeared when you realized what they were referring to all these times. THEM! They are back here. So? It should not matter to you. Everything between you and them has ended long back ago and you guys have parted your ways on your own.

“So? It’s not like they matter to me anymore. I know one of them is the owner of this club but this is my favorite one and also because the hotel above this club is Jaehyun’s.”

“I know you don’t care about them” taking a sip of his drink he added, “but the look in their eyes when they saw you with me entering the club was telling otherwise.”

You both have finished your drinks so he kept the glasses on a nearest counter.

“Stop it TY. You are thinking too much. They were just probably looking at me because they saw me after two years or maybe they were looking at someone else.”

Taeyong smiled at you and he hugged you tightly. The hug felt so nice because this comfort is all you need right now, maybe you are showing off your strong personality in front of him but deep down you are afraid and sad for them.

You are sad because all your memories spent with them are flashing to you and now you get that how much you still adore those precious moments with them.

They were your family, the only family after your parents died but suddenly one day you thought that everything is wrong. Why? Maybe you thought everything in your life is not meant forever. No. Everything was right in your end except that one day when one of your old school friends was totally spreading rumors about you to them. The way they bombarded you with questions later that night hurt you and you decided to part with them when they don’t have a minimum trust for you.

You are afraid. Why? Well, you don’t know yourself.

The loud beat of the music in the background is just the contrast to the comfortable moment you are sharing with your best friend. Taeyong got a call and he looked worried but regain his composure to face you.

“Y/N? I need to go because you know we have our night business and we can’t miss that. You are here today only to enjoy but I know you can enjoy all by yourself because you prefer that way while drinking alone. Also, if you need help to go back home, just call one of the dream members from upstairs, they will help you.”

He gave you his little smile and goes towards the exit where Jaehyun was already standing, before going away, the latter gave you a quick wink towards you. What a flirt!

“You were enjoying the hug too much.” Oh! the owner of this deep voice, you know him; The owner of the club.

Turning around you fake smiled, “Mingi….” He didn’t smile rather scan your whole figure and the lights falling on his face clearly shows his tensed jaw. Is he angry? You hesitantly brushed the side of the dress to see if something is wrong or not. His dark look is going well with his all-over black outfit of black shirt and black pant.

“Didn’t you have something else to wear?”

“What?”

“This is completely looking like you have just wrapped a shiny black plastic around you just to cover your private parts leaving the rest of the body visible to all hungry eyes here.”

Okay, then he is referring to himself as well. Right?

“Excuse me. You are no one to judge me when you are also one of them.” You are getting frustrated as to why you are not getting yourself to enjoy the day instead every worst possibility is bringing them in between.

He holds one of your hands and gripped it tightly. The grip hurts you a bit but before you can react to the pain, he pulled you towards a direction.

“What the hell are you doing? Leave my hand. Where are you taking me?”

Your shouts are getting dispersed in the loud music. Some people are cursing you both when Mingi was harshly pushing away the people coming in front of you both while making his way through the crowds. You both reached near a L-shaped sofa but you didn’t notice it yet, you were busy looking at the crowd to find any of the NCT members. You suddenly tripped because Mingi suddenly stopped in his tracks, you looked at him and then towards the front.

Wait. They look so hot and more handsome than last you saw them. They all are in their casual outfits that they usually wear when going to clubs. You look at each one of them precisely, starting from left is Yeosang in a plain black t-shirt and denim sitting annoyed beside san and wooyoung in between them wearing similar outfit like him but white and blue t-shirts respectively and laughing at the phone in san’s hand. Next to San, sitting in the exact corner is Jongho in a white tee with denim jacket and jeans. He is looking down maybe thinking something. Next to him is Hongjoong and Seonghwa in leathers and lastly beside them is Yunho in white shirt folded till elbow and denim. And GIRL, He is already staring at you with his famous smirk.

“Look who is here.” Nice. Tell everyone that a special guest is here. Each one of them quickly followed Yeosang’s eyes and they saw you standing beside Mingi and glaring at him.

“Why did you bring me here?”

“I told him to.” Hongjoong swirling the liquid in the glass said with a smile rather looks like a smirk. His attention is towards the glass and the liquid movement and your eyes focusing on it as well.

“Why?”

“We want you here away from those hungry eyes and those boys?” Yunho spoke from the end of the sofa and sit himself comfortably in a crossed leg position.

“Huh? What are you even saying, just shut up. I was here with my best friends and they just went for their sudden work and now I was just going to have fun with the other friends who are just upstairs.” You are getting annoyed and tried to turn around but the grip on your hand didn’t let that happen rather pulled you towards the glass table in front of them.

“Did we tell you to leave?” Seonghwa said placing the wine glass on the table.

“Why will I listen to you?”

“You actually never listened to us and always acted on your own.” Jongho looked up at your standing figure and eyes scanning the body.

“Don’t act like we know each other. Just let me enjoy my day and you guys carry on yourselves with whatever you were doing.”

“Why are you out in these clothes?” San spoke, he is no more laughing like before but glaring at you. You jerked your hands from Mingi’s grip and brushed your hairs before tugging them behind your ears.

“Oh gosh. First Mingi and now you, what is the problem of me wearing anything. This is my day to enjoy myself and you all let me do it.” Wooyoung laughed at your annoyed plead. He stands up and comes in front of you. Hands tracing your face slowly and then he gripped your jaw tightly.

“Follow what we are telling you to do or else you have to regret more.”

You parted your lips to argue back with him when Yunho comes beside you where Mingi was standing before. Where is he? Looking around, you can’t spot him anywhere. Yunho holds your hand and kiss it softly, “We missed you.” He smiles at you.

“What?” Your confused eyes staring at both the males standing near you. Seeing them after years is really telling you how much you have missed them but this is not right. You can’t be with them again. They don’t trust you or love you like once they had.

San came up to you and pulled you towards the sofa and made you sit between his thighs with Yeosang on his side. Your short dress riding up made all the males eyes focusing on your thigh. Your attempt to pull the dress down earned a slap on your thigh from him.

“Ahh…..”

“Oh love, how much I missed this sound?” Hongjoong spoke up, his eyes covered with some hairs falling in front looking directly at you. He nears to your frame and sat himself down on his knees in front of you. Putting his two hands on your bare thighs, he starts to draw patterns and this is giving you some sensation which you don’t want to feel right now. Yeosang is playing with your hairs. San is holding you tightly on the place. You were looking at Seonghwa who was busy telling a man about something and when he caught you staring at him, he spoke up, audible to his brothers.

“I got the room we asked for, let’s go there before someone becomes impatient.”

You felt a kiss on one of your thighs and when you look down, the man sitting in front of you is smiling innocently. He speaks softly, “that’s good then.”

“I can’t wait for that.” Wooyoung said excitedly while putting a hand around Yunho. The latter agreed nodding his head.

You heard someone whispered in your ears beside you, “me too.” His breath fanning over your ears. When you look that way, you see Yeosang smirking at you.

“I’m not going anywhere with you all.” You glared at Yeosang but your body becomes stiff when San’s hot breath hits your other ear and he licks the ear lobe.

“San…..”

“Yes pretty. Dou you want something?” You look towards others where some are either smirking or others pretending as if everything is normal.

“Who said we are going to listen to you?” Jongho suddenly spoke from the corner and you both turned to that direction.

Honjoong is still sitting down in front of you and when your gaze falls on him, he smiles “Let’s talk out everything first. Will you?”

You nodded on his words and Seonghwa directed all of you to the destined room.

On your way to the private room, you are hoping to stumble with any of your friends and then you can just escape this situation. Somehow, in the corner of your mind, you are feeling excited to meet them again after such a long time and just don’t want to ruin the moment when you just got back them.

Entering the room, your heartbeat increases and you can smell your favorite aroma of air freshner and the red led light decoration making the atmosphere unnecessarily too hot even when there is an air condition.

“Come Y/N.”

The oldest who is having a firm grip around your wrist all the way from downstairs to the second floor of the hotel pulls you to a corner. There was a similar L-shaped corner sofa with two mini sofas on other sides of the tea table. All the males scattered themselves around the room. You sit on the mini sofa facing the bed and you can see Wooyoung and San sitting on the edge with their focus on you. You avert your eyes to the corner chair beside the bed where Jongho is sitting and rummaging through the drawers of the bedside stand. Then, there Seonghwa is already sitting beside you holding your hands on his lap and waiting for others to settle down.

“Y/N? How are you?” Yeosang asked you slowly from the other mini sofa.

Your eyes search for any roguish look on his face but his look is otherwise, “I’m fine. Of course, I need to be fine when you all just being out there believing some bitch.”

“It’s not like that Y/N.”

“Then what is it Hongjoong?” You looked over to the big space where Yunho sitting near you and then Hongjoong to your exact opposite and beside him Mingi.

“You misunderstood us.”

“Look Mingi, now you can’t make myself the guilty here.”

“Y/N, please relax and listen.” Seonghwa squeezed your hand.

“I’m trying but I don’t know what’s the point of explaining anything when everything was over back then and we are good on our own way.”

“No one is better than having you around with us.” Yunho said. “You are not happy too.”

“I am fine and all these months I was enjoying my new life without you all.”

“Yeah, sure those two boys are really keeping company with you in every possible way, no wonder how you both were hugging each other.”

“He is my bestfriend.”

Some made noises of annoyance or some just ‘tsch’ in reply.

“Y/N. I’m sorry.”

Seonghwa is always the first one to apologise to you or to other seven of them because him being the oldest, he never tries to show his authority like Hongjoong but wanted to take responsibilities of everyone’s problem and make them feel at ease by reminding them that he can take care of them.

“I’m sorry that we acted like that. We didn’t mean to upset you rather we were just trying to know the real story apart from her lies. I guess we should have given you some time. You seemed upset when she treated you like that on that day.”

Yunho added, “We never trusted her single word. We believe in you. We only believe you baby.”

“Even if I lie?”

“Yes.”

“How come you never try to find me or never tried to convince me to get me back home?”

Hongjoong made an eye contact with you, “Who told we never know your whereabouts?”

“Huh?”

Yeosang smiled, “We have been keeping updates about you every day and so that’s why I just asked you how are you.”

“So, you all were stalking me?”

“Well absolutely because we can’t let anyone get to own what is ours.”

“You are stupid Mingi. It’s not like some random people gets to own me whenever they want.”

“It’s not about some randomness. We can see how you have this little crush on Jaehyun.” San suddenly spoke up from the bed and then when you saw that everybody’s eyes are on you.

“WTH! He and Taeyong are my bestfriends and they were always there with me whenever I needed help and I always have the assurance to run back to them to escape my problem.”

“And what about us? Were we not there?”

“Wooyoung. I didn’t mean that.”

“Did we not help you with anything? We were the one you cried and spend sleepless nights for your parents. We were the one who always prioritize you on the top before anything. We cared about your happiness, your career, your needs and your love. We used to keep you at home only to ourselves but when we found out your loneliness, we let you to go outside to have fun with your friends but now your friends are everything to you only just because of that one night misunderstanding.”

“Woo- “

“No. I don’t want to listen.”

“Wooyoung, shut up.”

The one beside you made him shut up and hold your face to look at his smiling face, “We know that you still miss us. You are just afraid how to express yourself after all these months.”

“I don’t know…” wooyoung made a ‘tsch’ sound and Jongho shot him a glare.

Hongjoong poured his drink in a glass from one of the bottles displayed on the centre table, “We are not here for casual talk. Why do you think we are here today? Coincidence? No, not really. We knew about your plans for today from some NCT members and this was the only chance to have you talk to us somewhere private.”

“I don’t want to talk to any of you. I have to go.”

“Do you think after waiting for all these times and letting you to collect yourself just to say sorry and let you go?”

“Why will you not let me go? I understand that I misunderstood you all but you could have convinced me to return in some other ways.”

“You would not have listen.”

“Jongho….. I waited everyday for one of you to come and take me back to where I actually belong. No one came and now after all these days here, you are suddenly apologizing to me for that day.”

Tears rolled down your cheeks and you clutched Seonghwa’s jacket when he hugged you. His cologne hits your nose and then when your memories with him flashed in front of you.

“Shh.. It’s okay. We are here now and you are not alone.”

“You all will leave me alone again if this kind of thing happen in future. Wooyoung will blame me for everything again. I don’t need your sympathy when I know nothing will last long.”

“Y/N.”

Someone is behind you and the person is stroking your head to calm down your sobs.

“You used to share everything with me. So, trust me after seeing your condition like this, none of us are going to let this repeat again.”

You collect yourself but your face is messed up with tear strains and loose hairs all over your face. You turned to see the person behind you and see San giving you a comforting smile. You look around the room for once and then poured a glass for yourself not knowing if you even like the drink or not. Yeosang was about to stop you from drinking it but you stare at him and Hongjoong prevents him from interrupting you. The leader is the only one who knows you well, exactly how much your body is adaptable to everything. You chugged down the drink of bitter taste with closed eyes. In this messed up situation, the bitter taste seems somewhat pleasant but still the disgust on your face extended a glass of water from Mingi.

“We wanted to get you back but Taeyong threatened us not to go near you or he might have to report us”, Mingi said.

“I didn’t know. He did?”

“Of course, he would not have told you. He never wanted you to be stressed more. No matter what, we should have come to you earlier.”

“How can I believe you?”

“How you want to believe us?”

“Do you- Do you all still love me?”

Hongjoong chuckled, “What is your wild guess?”

“I don’t know….”

“Your mind is really working slow today. You are the only mean to live our life. We are nothing without you. You don’t know how some of them were like after you left us. You are the heart of our party. They were uncontrollable without you but to give you space I had to restrain them from all the possible acts they could have pulled off to get you back. Wooyoung was in top of that list and that’s why he spoke to you like that earlier.”

Your eyes followed where the said man is sitting and when he saw you staring at him, he avoided your gaze.

“Prove it.”

Your eyes taking in their looks with equal amount of time to each and their confused face staring down at you.

“What?”

“Prove it that you all still love me.”

“Y/N….”

“Do it before I change my mind.”

“All of us?”

“Yes.”

Seonghwa exchanged a look with Hongjoong when he guides you towards the bed and Wooyoung stood up and takes your previous spot.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes. You all said that I am the heart of your party so prove how important is this heart to you to enjoy your party.”

Without wasting a second moment to hear your complaints or for you to change your mind suddenly, he attached his lips to you and your back slowly hit the bed with him on top of yourself. You closed your eyes on the impact and let him do whatever he wants to do right now. His soft hands brushing your cheeks and lips dancing with yours as if they are the ones dancing on a rhythm in this party with the melody of all past memories. His kiss always tastes sweet and you don’t know whether its because of his strawberry addiction or his sweet love for you. You opened your eyes to look at him and see him already staring at you with heart eyes. When you both were out of breath, he moved back and rested his forehead on yours.

“I missed us.”

“Me too.”

You are somewhat warm to know that Seonghwa is the one leading the situation to wherever this is going. You feel a bit shy on seeing their lustful eyes are all on you. Seonghwa takes your act to let him assure you.

“It’s okay Y/N. You don’t have to be shy. Its not like we haven’t seen this before.”

You nodded and let him to ride up your dress to expose your panty. His face moved closer to the heat and kissed your clothed clit. You gasped on the sudden contact and clutched his hair. He sits himself on his knees to remove his jacket and shirt and reveal his abs and well-built muscles and then when you can see those flexing muscles, the muscles which kept you warm underneath it, in tired nights

Your spread-out body in the middle of the bed is getting the attention of eight males all at once and this is sending sparks to you. Every touch from the man near your feet is igniting the spark. These touches and the longingness in their eyes for you. You have missed all of these so much. You missed laughing with them, waking up with them after cuddle nights or sex nights. Them showing love to you in different ways and you returning the love to them is what you missed all these past months.

Seonghwa returned to resume his action and this time he slides down your panty to expose the main treat of the party. He quickly licked a mouthful strip of your arousal and you moaned. Your moan earned some grunts from all around the room.

“My pretty baby tastes the sweetest.” He inserted a finger to prep you and the bed dip beside your head. You avert your gaze from the man between your legs to the new comer beside you to see Jongho peeking down at you. He brushed your hairs away from your face and give you a soft smile.

“You don’t need to supress your moans. Please let us hear you. I missed your sweet sounds when you are feeling so good.”

“Jongho…”

The sudden curl of the finger hit your g-spot and you move your attention to the man below who is eager to have your eyes on him when he is the one giving you pleasure. Getting the attention he needed, he plopped inside another finger to stretch you out and his thumb spreading your juices all over the folds and the walls inside as if he is preparing his favorite dessert with garnishing it with chocolate syrup. Your silent moans turned into a big gasp when he suddenly entered you. You didn’t notice how he paused for a moment to free himself from his pants and then enter you when he felt you are ready.

“Seonghwa!”

“It’s okay baby. Calm down. Relax and just focus on the pleasure not the pain.”

Jongho kissed your head and added, “You came here to relax and enjoy in the first place. So, we will have every possible way to take away all of you pain and let you enjoy our private party.”

Your teary eyes stare directly to Seonghwa’s lustful eyes, “h-have you taken the protection?”

“Don’t worry, you don’t have to think about becoming a mother of my child right now.”

“That’s only his words. You can’t be sure of others.”

Everyone chuckled on Wooyong’s yell for accusing Seonghwa. Your pain turns into pleasure with the increase of the intensity of each thrust. Seonghwa intertwined his fingers with you and kissed you softly and thrusts you deeper hitting your g-spot. Seonghwa is always the one who is gentle with you whenever you are not in a mood but he can be a monster if you allow him to wreck you. Being the oldest has a lot of responsibilities but you never treated him that way and let him feel he can also voice out his problems to you. You always loved hearing him and then spending days and nights with him.

You moaned into his mouth when he is hitting your spot to the edge and with a last hit, you let it loose. Seonghwa grunt and slowed his movement

“Seonghwa….”

“Fuck.”

As promised, he pulled it out quickly to let his seeds spill over your belly and wiping it off slightly. The feeling of love by Seonghwa and him being so close with you and your fragile body shaking under his warmth.

“I love you Y/n.” You nodded and collecting your thoughts to reply him back but he kisses you on the forehead and shushed you.

“It’s okay love, you don’t have to say anything to me. I know you love me but just let me prove it to you. For now, you only listen to me and you can say it to me someday later.”

All this time, Jongho was praising you with sweet words and stroking your head to ease you. Seonghwa retreat himself to disappear into washroom and dressed up himself only in boxers and pants. Your foggy head is not taking in the surrounding well but suddenly you felt someone kissed your feet and in reflex you curl your toes, a shirtless Yeosang trailing kisses from your feet up to your leg and inner thigh with adoration in his eyes is looking up to you.

“Yeosang…I….need you.”

“Wait a moment bird, let me adore my bird’s delicate body after so many months. I missed this heat radiating from you. My cold lips were aching for your heat and I can’t waste any bit of it."

Your juices mixed with Seonghwa’s are still leaking from you and you felt his hot breath near your core and then your legs trying to close the distance. His strong hands grip your thigh to make it still and he rose his body to hover you and pull off the dress from you revealing your hidden delicacy to him. He eyed you intensely and smiled at you. He plopped a boob inside his mouth earning a loud moan from you.

“Yeosang!”

“Mine.”

He repeated the action to your other one and sucking the nipples hard. Your hands gripping the bedsheet strongly as if you will float if you lose the grip. He kissed on the middle of the chest and the kisses moved from your chest to shoulders and stomach and then to your lips. The kiss is delicate, too delicate than his previous actions but it is quick because you can feel his hands moved away from your breasts to his pants to free his paining tiny member. His member is teasing your entrance and you are whimpering under him. With a last kiss, he thrusts inside you. His thrusts are rough, not too rough but a bit rougher than the oldest one with whom you spent a soft sex few moments ago.

“Slow down. Y-you are t-too fast..”

“It’s okay bird. It will be okay. Just take it. I know you can.”

You moved your head sideways in pleasure to see Jongho is still on your left but this time Mingi has sat himself on the other side mimicking jongho’s posture. When he locks eyes with you, he gives you a soft smile. You can see seonghwa sitting on a chair near the bed just behind Jongho. They are all coming near to you even when you are in such intimate position with another member. They are trying to be close with you with every passing minute. Your hands strangled in Yeosang’s hair earning a grunt of pain when you pull his hair on him hitting your spot.

“Ah….”

“Say it loud. Let me hear my bird’s sweet melody.” He moved down to suck your neck and bites it leaving some bruises all over the neck.

With last three deep thrusts, you both cum together. He is still riding out his high and you with your blissed out face staring at him.

“I love you Y/N, my bird.” He scans your face and added, “Don’t say anything. We only want you to hear us today. I want to hear the sweet melody of my bird.”

He pecked you before retreating himself and giving you the kindest smile and went away. Your eyes followed him until your vision got blocked by Jongho’s muscular figure. He is taking off his shirt and your eyes following his movements that how quickly he was with freeing himself from all the unwanted materials on his body. You craned your neck to see San taking Jongho’s previous position and he smiled at you.

They all are smiling at you whenever you are locking eyes with them.

‘Are they mocking me?’

‘Are they making fun of my current situation?’

They are not interrupting others when they are having their private moments with you. They are giving you space even when they are practically so close with you. Mingi on other side is still occasionally stroking your upper arm or your shoulders to sense your uncomfortableness.

“Y/N. You are again overthinking. Your creased eyebrows and confused eyes literally telling me everything.”

This boy always understands you even when you don’t speak out your thoughts and still always try to calm you down with your overthinking nature. Jongho is always a reserved member among them and you know he is generally shy showing his feelings towards you and you are sure, he will hesitate to show his love for you in front of the presence of others.

“I missed you so much Y/N.”

Your mind cleared a bit to register his words and you try to give him a little smile. He reveals his gummy smile which totally making him look like a naked teenage boy standing at the foot of the bed. He quickly hovered you to trail kisses from your belly to your chest and to your lips. But, he didn’t kiss. He kissed you on the forehead.

“I want to break down this delicate body under me, with my love. But not today. Maybe some other day when it will be only you and me.”

“Jongho, its okay if you-“

“Shhhh…We told you to be quiet. Don’t speak and just enjoy the party.” And with that he thrusts inside you with his lips on you. You gasped into his mouth and he took the opportunity to explore the inside of your mouth with your teeths crashing each other and tongues rolling over, mixing your salivas. Every kind of fluid of your bodies are mixing at the moment, the way your hearts are sealing to each other again. His thrusts are fast and with your previous orgasms, this one brings you to your next one closer too soon. His hands gripping your hip is definitely leaving bruised and his handprints and similarly your one hand gripping his hair and the other one bedsheet.

“I’m c-close Jon-g-gho.”

“Me t-too.”

That’s it. He quickly pulled out and moved apart.

‘Yeosang didn’t pull out.’ Jongho noticing your actions, quickly sush you by telling you that they will give you pills later if necessary.

“I love you, my apple.” he paused to stare at you for few seconds and added, “I had no one to read them stories to sleep. You were not there to ask me how was my day and to know my problems which I try to hide back from everyone. I’m so happy to get you back to myself. Losing you was the biggest nightmare to me.”

He giving you his gummy smile for the last time, went away. Someone is stroking your legs from the other side and then when you see hongjoong with a concern on his face looking at you.

“Are you okay?”

You nodded. You can’t reply with your fucked up mind. You are thinking of letters to form a word.

“You can go for more right?”

You again nodded. He took this as his signal to prepare himself to come closer to your body. San wiped off some of your sweat from the face and pat your head. Your attention is full on the leader. The way he took off his jacket attractively and throwing it off on the sofa and then swiftly removing his t-shirt showing his hard works on building his perfect body as he desired for himself. No. The body he always eager to build up to show you that he is better than everyone for you and only you. Of course, not comparing to his other members of the group.

“Follow the light signal, okay? If you are feeling too much, just tell me the light.”

With your assurance, he brings his face near your heat and giving it a peck before sliding in his tongue and sucking your clit hard.

“Hongjoong...”

Every inch of your body is delicate and your core is literally a flooded tank. He is sucking up all your leaking juice. He can be the one to listen to everybody patiently and coming up with final decisions but he is not patient inside the locked doors. He is never gentle with you on bed because he likes to show off his authority even if it means during the sex.

The moment you were close with your climax, he stops and moved upward to kiss you. The example of not being gentle. He ignored your whimpers and kissed you roughly. The way he is moving his lips as if you are his ‘thirty seconds to fame’ artwork and he has to give his all in his art to prove himself the best to you.

He inserts you and he grunts on feeling the wet walls swallowing him. You gripped his shoulders to take him inside your sensitive part without any pain.

“I am the best for you, You are mine. No one can take you away from me.”

“Hongjoong-“

“Mine to love. Mine to hate. Your everything is mine.”

His thrusts are fast and rough. He has no patience or mercy for you during this moment but he always apologizes later for his actions. But you kinda like him this way because of his way, this side is what turns you on the most and the first time you fell in love with him was when he was angry with Wooyoung at an event in college. Well speaking of this another boy, you can hear someone saying he would be the last one to participate in this party.

“Fuck.”

He didn’t pull out but thrusts deeper and you let him to do it until he rode out his high. You don’t have anymore energy to fight him back or to explain anything to anyone.

“I love you, my lady.”

“Hmm..”

“I love you and want to show you everything I can do for you. I will wait for your orders everytime, scold me, hit me, shout at me but don’t leave me again. Please.” You nodded.

He caressed your cheeks and kissed your lips then forehead and then finally on your chest before detaching himself and went away.

You are lifted up by someone pulling your hands and making you sit when you felt the bed dips behind you. You slightly open your eyes to see freshen up Yeosang holding your weak body and smiling down at you. Before you can contemplate what is going on, a pair of hands turn you around and made you sit facing them. The person was sitting naked leaning to the headboard and legs spread wide open and you in between his legs and your legs over his on either side. Your body is a bit too weak to handle your sitting posture on your own so the person in front of you is supporting your balance.

“Are you still with me Y/N?”

“M-mingi…”

Your previous orgasms are still hitting your body and you are floating in Cloud 9. You don’t know if your make up is still okay or how is even your smudged face looking like right now. You are definitely reflecting ugliness to him. His one hand keeping your balance and the other one caressing your face. Your thoughts are clouding between their genuine love for you and they be leaving you for being so ugly at this moment.

“Yes doll, it’s me. Your Mingi.”

“I-I’m with you…Don’t leave me.”

“No one is leaving you, my doll.” Your sensitive and delicate body cant control your emotions and you started sobbing. Mingi wiped off your rolling tears and kissed the tear stained cheek.

“Can you take me?”

You nodded on his words and then he guides you to sit on his member. You jerked when his hard tiny partner hit your soft folds.

“Ah…”

“Just tell me if you are not okay and I will stop. I don’t want to hurt you. I want you to relax.”

“Mingi…..I can do it. I’m….I’m fine.” Your tried to move your hips when he grips it still to make you stop.

“Whats wrong?” you are scared if you have done anything wrong but Mingi’s assuring smile made you calm.

“Stay still. I told you to relax so let me do all the work.”

He is grinding his hips and thrusting upwards making you bounce on his laps. Your moans and whimpers echoed in the room. Your hands holding tightly Mingi’s shoulders for your dear life. Your body is too weak but you don’t want to make him stop to make him feel like he is hurting you. He is not hurting you maybe his words did that day but not today. He is a very sensitive person when comes to emotions but he can handle them very well to make others valuable with the attention they needed when they are vulnerable so he stays strong. Maybe he is a giant one in the group but he is really a softie when it comes to care for you. The sweet words flow from his mouth with his deep voice is really something that make you feel like the most precious person.

“You are doing so good for me doll.” He added,“Are you okay?”

“Yes…just too much.”

“Am I hurting you?” he slowed down his movements to which you squeezed your hold on him. His hands tracing your side frame to release any sort of tension in your body because of discomfort.

“NO NO Mingi. Please don’t stop. Its just too much at a time but please don’t stop. I want you. I need you to fill me up.”

He kissed your lips to make your ramblings stop. He knows that you are not in your right mind at this moment but you are conscious enough to let him know if you are on the verge to fall apart. His thrusts are a bit too deep and you can feel his length poking inside of you and then when it hit the g-spot. The familiar building up of a knot in your stomach sends a shiver all through your body. His one hand holding your hips to thrust into you and other hand holding your neck to deepen the kiss. He is kissing you with passion like you both kissed on your first day. This memory flash to your mind and you smiled a little in your kiss.

“Why a-are you s-smiling?”

You shook your head and rest your head on his shoulder and your mouth near his ears. Your hot breath on his neck is pushing him to the climax.

“I-I’m go-going to cum.”

“Cum on me doll.”

Your knot looses and let yourself break free. He caressed your bare back and kissed your shoulder. His thrusts for three more times and then he quickly pulls himself out to spill his seeds on your lower belly. He pats your head and your eyes closed to the touch.

“I love you, my doll. I missed you so much.”

He kissed you on your head and you can feel someone pulls you away from him and puts you on their lap. Your hooded eyes try to take in the situation but your hazy vision is not letting you to get a grip of the image of your surroundings. Your heavy breathing slowed down and someone is rocking you on their lap like you are a baby being protected from the monsters of your night mare.

“It’s okay, Y/N. Relax. I’m here. Take some rest.”

“Yunho…. No…. I can.”

“Shhh….Close your eyes. Calm your nerves. You are too exhausted and I don’t want to make you feel overwhelmed.”

You slightly open your eyes to look around to find Seonghwa, Hongjoong, yeosang and Jongho are all dressed up and sitting on the sofa and honjoong is looking back at you while rest three of them are busy with something. He nodded to your direction, you can feel yunho is speaking something but you cant make out the words or even you don’t know if he is speaking to you or someone else. Your legs loosely placed together on one side of his lap and your whole body engulfed in his warm hug. His hot tight abs are in touch with your melting weak body making you the most delicate thing in that room.

The air is filled up with the smell of drinks and sex. You are not a fan of drinking other than enjoying your vodka from this club but the taste of different flavors from the different kisses and sharing such intimate moments during the taste is what you love the most with them. That’s why you missed coming to clubs with them.

It was never been easy to be in a poly relationship with eight boys but their love for you really proved their genuine need of you in their life. Everytime you thought back then to end this thing between you all, they pulled out something different each time to make you forget about your decisions. You loved it. You loved them equally but differently. Their way of showing you love is always different from others and you liked the uniqueness and loved them in their own way. Maybe you want different kinds of love at a time which is not burdening you or overwhelming you but making you feel safe and important.

San sitting on the bed near you caressed your legs when he sees you zoning out. Your eyes travel back to his face and he signalled you to close your eyes. You let the exhaustion engulf you and snuggled into Yunho’s neck to which he holds you tighter.

The atmosphere is silent and the sound of air conditioner is audible which had no existence to your ears few seconds back. The room is cold and even every specific thing inside the room is quite cold except the warm bodies all around the room. A tiny sleeping body is being hugged by a giant in his boxers and staring down at the figure in his hold. Another pair of eyes is focusing on the sleeping face.

“San. Do you want to go next?”

The pair of eyes travels from your face up to the speaking person’s face to give him a head shake.

“ No Yunho. Last time she saw you and wanted you. It’s better if you go next. I can wait here unlike someone else.” He glanced to the person sitting on the other side on the other side of the bed.

“Shut up. I am waiting for my turn since the first person made his move. If you were in my position then only you could have felt my pain.”

“Oh! So painful story. I’m so hurt hearing you. Can I help you with it?”

Wooyoung made an annoyed face and throw a pillow at the smirking person. Suddenly a phone starts to ring from the bedside table and it was yours with the caller id ‘Markieee’ on display. Wooyoung quickly picked it up before it can disturb your sleep even more.

“Hello?”

“Yo girl Y/N. Where are you? Taeyong told us you will be near the dance floor but couldn’t find.”

“She is not in the club.”

“Who are you?”

“Lot more important one than you in her life.”

“Huh? Tell me you shit. Is my Y/N okay? Where is she?”

“She is not your-“

Hongjoong snatched away the phone from his hold to shot him a glare and smiled in the call.

“She is safe with us. I’m Hongjoong. Tell me where you are right now and I can go explain it to you.”

Ending the call with Mark, he signalled Seonghwa and Jongho to follow him. They glanced at you for the last time before leaving the room. Yeosang scan around the bed and returned his attention to whatever he was doing on his phone.

More than one hour has passed after you fell asleep. Yunho laid you down in the middle of the bed and went towards your feet. He holds your ankle and moved them apart revealing your now dried up cunt. He kissed on your knees and then in your inner thighs. His sloppy kiss echoed around the room and then he was mouthing your heat. Your slow movements made him halt and you blinked your eyes open to quickly notice the commotion between your legs. The giant man sends a smile to your sleepy face.

“Wake up, Tiny.”

Your body squirming under his tight grip on your hip to devour you. His tongue knows the exact turn and twist to give you the sparks and to make you feel good in no time. Your hands gripping the bedsheet moves down to strangle his hairs and pushed him further into your heat but he groans.

“You are hurting me. Let me be on my own. Move your hands.”

You quickly retreat your hands but when his tongue starts to play in fast pace, it made your back curled up and your hands again tried to approach him but got held by the two men on your either side.

“Easy there. Take it. We know you can.”

“San. I cant. I want to touch him, please.”

“You will. Just wait a moment.” His words assured you and you hit your climax. You can feel Yunho is sucking up all your spilling juices and with a last kiss, he moves upward to kiss you on your lips to give you a taste of yourself for the first time this night. His kiss is slow and dominative and the way he is biting your lips, you know it will be swollen later.

“The tiny one is the sweetest.” He slightly taps your nose with a finger made you giggle a bit.

Yunho, he is always the dominative one on bed. He will listen to all your sulking demands other times but you can’t get to say a single word on bed. He likes to wreck you and see you whimper underneath him, he likes to watch you fall apart under him because that is how he knows that he is making you feel good like no one else can ever do. The way he pushed himself into you and tears pooled in the corner of your eyes. They left your hand loose and you quickly hugged Yunho who is hovering your tiny frame and your hands wander over his flexing back.

Feeling your hands tickling to his skin, he thrusts deeper and hits your spot making you scream out his name.

“Yunho!”

“Am I making you feel good? Say it tiny.”

“Yes yes you are.”

He moves his face closer to your neck and sucks your sweet spot before biting it down in the process. Your fingers dig deeper into his back and your nails scratching leaving read marks all over. He likes to be marked like this and to see it later that how he can perfectly get a hold of you and make you feel good. The increase of his pace ignites your body knowing that he is also close to the edge like you. His wet mouth sounds leaving marks all over your neck and collar bones and you moaning his name near his ears filled the room.

“Cum.”

You didn’t even let the word to complete and you come on his dick. He came inside you and ride out his high with you. Your mind this time again hit with the thought of possibilities of pregnancy. He pressed your folds tightly to not let to leak it out from you.

"Look at me."

“Yunho why-“

“I wanted to release myself inside of you. I missed us inside each other please.”

You nodded your head remembering how one of them had said to give you the pills and to stress on that. His fingers tracing over the marks over your soft skin and he smiled to them and other hand caressing your head to calm your restless nerves after the release. His sweats falling over your face is getting mixed with your own. You don’t mind if you get filled up with his sweats instead of his seeds.

“I love you tiny.” He paused to see if you are listening to him or not but when you nodded, he continues. “I missed how your tiny body fits perfectly under my cage. You are perfect to be mine.”

He pulls off himself and kissed your tummy before going away from the scene.

Someone caressed your cheek from your side and the touch is very familiar because the pattern he is tracing is his name. You slowly hold his hand and looked at him.

“San.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes.”

“You can continue the party, right?”

“Yes, I can. Please san come here and let me show you.”

“Slowly. Slow down there, princess. I can see you don’t want me to feel left out but my first priority is you being fine with this.”

“Yes, I am fine with everything.”

“Really?” This time, wooyoung spoke up with a concern in his question.

“You all really proved me that no matter how far we were, you never forgot every detail of my body and the way you all used to love me.”

San has prepped himself and positioned himself between your legs. Your juices leaked out a little but he is stretching out your folds with his fingers to make some space available for his length. Wooyoung got up when Yeosang and Mingi called him towards them and then when you can hear Mingi has bought some clothes from downstairs and the rest words you cant figure out anymore.

“don’t think we all love you only for your body and to fulfil our needs.”

Your eyes meet San’s intense gaze. He is staring at you as if he is watching every single movement of his prey before jumping on them.

“Huh?”

“We love you because you are the only heart in our life.”

He is thrusting slowly and deeply. He is thrusting deeper with each sentence. He is always the one who likes to speak out his thoughts and make others to do the same to prevent misunderstanding and he was the first one who accused you on your friend’s rumors. He tried to apologize to you later but you never listened and today you are going to give your all ears to him.

“I know.”

“We love you because you were the one, the one we needed in our life to make us fill up the empty spaces, to make us believe in ourselves, to let us be our best. We love you because you are Y/N. You are always different from every girl we came across. If we only wanted to fuck then we could have done with someone else but to make us closer, to turn our relationship more intimate, this was the only option to show you love.”

He added, “The day you decided to leave us we didn’t stop you because we were also hating us to make you feel like we don’t trust you. Please trust me, you cant imagine how we tortured ourselves to hurt you that day. We want to forget that worst of a day and that’s why we are trying to prove us today.”

“Its okay San. You don’t have to explain me all these. Apart from having sex, you all have always proved your genuine love to me in your other actions and I cant explain how lucky I feel to be myself and to be with you all.”

He caressed your cheeks and thrust deeper increasing his pace. He hovers his palm over your boobs and squeezed them earning a loud gasp from you. You gripped the bedsheet tight and let your toes curl and hit the bed. He is hitting your g-spot and your muscles are becoming tensed with the building up of the knot inside you. He is trying to be gentle with you but losing himself in the way.

“San.. more MORE please.”

“yes princess, there you go.”

He is squeezing your breasts, taking one in the mouth and massaging the other one. He is also biting down the region around your boobs to mark you and every time he is releasing the skin from his mouth creating a sloppy sound. He trails the kisses from your chest to the jaw and to your lips tracing a line of saliva.

He is kissing you with the rhythm similar to the wet sounds from where you both are connected down with each other. Both of your sweaty body glowing under the dim light of the room. Your one hand travelled into his hairs when he again goes down to suck your boob. His one hand is squeezing and massaging you and the other one rubbing circles on your clit.

“San…I-I am close….please..”

“I know. Hold on a bit more and you will get what you want.”

He pushed into you deeper if its even possible and then when he asked you to come on his dick. He pulled it out and release himself on your thigh. You both are breathing heavily with him on top of you and the air is a mixture of smell of sweat and different sex. The mixed smell of sweat and sex is the smell of love. The wet sounds, the moans, the grunts, those bites, kiss, those praises during the thrusts are the symbols of love and all these months and years, you have missed it so much.

“I love you, my princess. I was a bad prince to you but now I have to prove myself to be the better one than all those in fairytales.”

You look over to him with your hooded eyes and smiling face and then when he kissed on your eyes and moved back to get over you.

The time didn’t even pass for a second when someone is patting your cheeks. When you open your eyes, you can see wooyoung peeking to you with lust and concern in his eyes.

“Are you with me?”

“hmm….”

Everything is now a bit more sensitive to you. You are curling your hands and legs causing the bedsheet to get displace even when its already wrecked. Your eyes which you can barely keep open for a second followed him. Taking your consciousness as a sign, he took off his boxers and climbs the bed to sit leaning to the headboard. He pulled you up with Yunho helping him to make you sit on his lap. His length is poking in your lower back and your hands travelled to touch it.

“Don’t.”

Your shook your head. Why? Does he not want you? Is he angry with you because he is your last? Tears roll down your eyes. You are sobbing on his lap and your bare back hits his sweaty tanned chest when he pulls you back and holds your chin to make you face him.

“Why are you crying?”

“I don’t want you to think I love others more and didn’t let you join before. I know you are already angry with me more because of what happened when we came to this room.”

“Shh..babygirl..stop crying. I’m not angry with you. I cant be angry with you eveer. I was just….. just felt hurt to see you after so long and your words and thoughts towards my brothers hurt me. I know you are going through a lot of emotions and was just ranting on it. Please forgive me.”

He pecks you.

“Wooyoung, I know you are hurt. I know everyone was hurt. I should have thought about your side as well. You all never left my side but I didn’t let you all to explain to me or try to understand and being a selfish girl to you all. I don’t deserve you back as I had part my ways like that.”

He shook his head and hid hand pats your head, “ Don’t say like that. We don’t know how we are so lucky to have someone like you in our life. You are the one we don’t deserve. You are too precious and perfect for us.”

“Woo-“ His middle finger slips inside your folds and push into you deeper and two fingers stretching you out and his palm pressing on your clit.

You hold his wrist and other grip his thigh. You are squeezing your eyes shut and your every limb of the body is weak and fragile and he is delicately handling every inch of it.

“Anything wrong?”

“No..but you don’t have to prepare me and please I know you are waiting for too long.”

He chuckles on your words. His fingers going in a faster pace and he is sucking your ears and the licking wet sounds and his grunts filling your ears sending direct spark to your core.

“Woo-young.”

“Hm?”

“I need you to fill me up.”

“Sush it because I wont be gentle like any of them. The moment I will insert you, you have to break apart in my arms.”

The curl of his finger and hitting the exact spot was the last thing you need to break loose on his fingers. You are just letting yourself calm down with your release when he inserts his length to your back hole.

“Wooyoung!”

“Is it hurting you? Should I stop here?”

Yunho ran to your side and then when you lift your head up and your teary eyes looking up to him.

“What happened Y/N?”

“No nothing. Its just…I didn’t expect it all of a sudden.” He holds your face and scans if you are lying or not. Wooyoung holding you still with his grip on you hip so that you can’t hurt yourself with any little movement with him inside of you.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes Yunho.”

Nodding his head, he went back to join others and you can see others. Wait! Only Yunho, Yeosang and San is there but where are the others? Yeosang caught you looking at them confused and saw your orbs searching for others.

“Y/N?”

“Where-“

“The rest of them are downstairs. You don’t have to worry. No one has left you.”

Wooyoung taps your shoulders to signal you about him wanting to move. You nodded and he started to grind his hip forward to thrust inside you. You craned your neck to look towards him and he kissed your nose and then your lips. You can feel the taste of alcohol the most in his kiss because he drinks the most than others and he likes to taste different flavors. His hands squeezing your boobs and moving all over the chest and belly even sometimes pinching the nipples. He is literally sucking your lips and if possible, he can eat you up in any instant. You can feel his desperation in feeling you after such long time and even it feels too much for you, you will not tell him to stop because you want him to love you this way, in his own way.

He is always the most energetic and hyped up in the group and he cares for others before himself. If anyone bad mouth or insults him, it does not matter to him until someone doing the same with his close ones.

He breaks the kiss to move your hairs from your back and kissing your upper back and sucking and biting it in the way because he wants some other space, his own to mark you and to make you feel his love in a different way.

He is thrusting you harshly and the rhythm is very rough and hitting every corner of the hole and you can feel his length is exploring around your inside and stretching it out.

Your body is tensing up and his sloppy thrusts are indicating you that he is close and you are also reaching your climax. His one hand gripping tightly your hip and the other one pressing your clit to make you feel his thrust deeper. His thrusts are really rough and he is not willing to be gentle with you for once but you know if you warn him a bit for your discomfort, he is going to stop with his actions just for you to be comfortable with him.

“I’m gonna cum Woo.”

“Fuck.” He releases inside of you.

Your body shaking in his hold and his forehead is resting on your shoulder. Heavy breathing of two bodies along with heat radiating from both of you is mixing with the smell of the sex. He has totally wrecked you and you are vision is hazy and your mind is totally foggy after the rough sex.

“Y/N?”

“Hm?” your reply is near to a whisper but still audible to him. He pulls out and positioned your body sidewise in his arms to take a look of your smudge makeup look.

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

“No. I’m okay. I-“

“I love you, my babygirl.” He kissed you on the nose and pecked your lips. “I am happy that you are finally in my arms. So vulnerable and so delicate and all because of me and us.”

He is hugging you tightly and caressing your body softly, just the contrasting way he was handling you few moments back in that intimate situation. With a final kiss on your cheek, he smiled at you and someone else took you from him and laid you down near the side of the bed. You tried your best to open your eyes to look at the person, the hold is as if he is handling a delicate thing which can break any moment.

“No need to open your eyes Y/N. Relax and let me take care of you.”

“Hongjoong I-“

“Shh…Sleep.” He is cleaning your body with some wet warm clothes and the cold air of the air conditioner is hitting your skin. One more person is there helping you to turn around and removing the bedsheet from beneath you. From the conversation between Hongjoong and him, you can guess him the youngest member, Jongho.

They put you into a loose trouser and an oversized t-shirt and someone took you in their arms to lift you up in the bridal style. The grip and the praises to lull you to sleep is totally referring to you being in the arms of the giant Yunho. Someone pats your head and you somehow open your eyes to realize your current situation. Seonghwa is patting you and smiling down at you and others are waiting near the door for three of you and Wooyoung who is putting on his t-shirt.

You all went towards the parking area and you are trying your best to stay awake in his arms.

“So, who is going to take which one?”

“Seonghwa, you can take Yeosang and San along with you and rest of them can take the other car. I will go with Yunho and Y/N.”

Everyone agreed and were going in their particular direction of their cars.

“Where are we going?”

They all stopped in their tracks to turn towards Yunho and you and he is already staring down at you.

“To home. To our home. The home is empty without you even if there are eight of us because the heart of our life is missing.”

“Thank you.”

“Why tiny?”

“Thanks for showing that you all are still the same and you all love me the most.”

San speaks, “We will never hurt you again Y/N. We are all sorry.”

You smiled towards them.

“I love you. I love each one of you. I missed you too.”

They all gave you the kindest smile and nodded.

“Thanks for making our party the best. My club has a sweet memory now.”

Everyone laughed on Mingi’s statement and with sweet smiles on everyone’s face, they all went to enter their designated cars.

Wooyoung shout out his thought, “lets have a party like this again but not for the same reason and also I will be the first one.”

They all laughed and entered the car. Before starting the engine, Hongoong looks at the rear-view mirror to see you snuggled up in yunho’s arms in the back seat and the latter cooing down at you like you are a baby in his hold. He looked up in the mirror to meet the eyes of the one in driver’s seat.

“Today was amazing, I want this party again. She is the best treasure of our life.”

“The Heart of Our Party.”

LET'S NOW PRETEND YOU DONT KNOW MY BLOG!

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sadnightforus · 4 months

Text

[10:59 AM] “Hey… HEY!” Riki whispers to you while you both are listening to your teacher who is busy explaining and breaking down about world’s history.

According to your seating position, you’re sitting in front of him, though, you’re sitting on the right side of the school twin desk and he sits at the left, not vertically aligned to each other. It has never been a problem for the both of you, as the seats aren’t far away.

The fact he cares to disturb you during class is both annoying and questionable, as he rarely does, unless it’s an important business.

It startles you out of your trance, as you snap your head to look back at the guy who is now staring at you.

“What?” You ask, a bit irritated that you’re pulled away from the board. Your fingers stop working to write more notes, but try to keep your ears alert, invade when your teacher mentions any relevant information that might be on the exam.

“You dropped your pen.” He answers, maintaining eye contact despite the forbidden rule to not talk during class.

You look up, observing your desk, realizing that your pen is indeed long forgotten as it must’ve fallen off some time ago when you were trying to take notes during the lessons. You don’t say anything, but instead place your pencil on the top, lowering your body a bit as your right arm works itself to retrieve the school item back to where it belongs.

However, a piece of folded paper catches your attention as you don’t remember that any of your classmates litter or there are trash as all of you have mandatory cleaning duties as a group.

Curious, you pick it up and place it onto your table, unfolding it to see the note was written in a messy handwriting, the writing style that belongs to none other than your friend, Riki.

‘To the cutie whose student number is 9, will you be forever mine and my valentine? - N.R (student number 14)’

Your student number in this class is 9. His student number is 14.

You feel like your world spins, but in an agonizing slow manner, the one that is sick and both ecstatic from the realization.

You recall back to every moment that you both share; a lot of occasions where you’ve gotten too close to him and subtly held his hand under the excuse of your hands being cold, but never once did both of you want to let go of the fingers lacing motion.

Or wore his jacket because you didn’t bring yours and it happened to be chilly (you shamefully admit that you just wanted his scent to linger on you).

Or when he bent down to tie your shoes because he noticed you’d trip with your shoelaces not being properly kept in place.

Or when he gently wiped your mouth because you have ice creams on the corner of your mouth as you both skipped school that one time.

You smile to yourself as you remember and get mushy as you now know that your love wasn’t always one sided.

Giddily, you begin to write your response under his words. And when you’re done with it, you hand Riki the now shared response note as you notice that his eyes were trained on you the entire time.

And as he opens the note to see the response ‘To the boy whose student number is 14, yes I’ll be yours. And I hope to spend every Valentine with you. - Y/N (student number 9)’, you giggle as you see that he can’t help but his face dusts in every shade of red, eyes now glistening with sparkles as he has received the best news of his life.

COPYRIGHTED BY SADNIGHTFORUS, 2024

A/N: if you ask me, pure insanity

reblogs, comments and likes are appreciated!

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worldofkuro · 18 days

Note

idk if it sounds selfish but i need more comfort in my life rn, so i wanna ask for help.

if it's not really a big deal, i wanna see some comfort between alastor and reader when they were teens. maybe after he already told her that he wants to marry her, and something made her feel insecure and bad about herself. so she called Marie and ask Alastor to come, so she could lie down in his arms and listen him telling her that he loves her anyway.

or any other plots because I'll be okay with everything if it's fluff. thank you.

Of course dearest, anything for you to feel better. For those who will notice it, their last sentence is from the song “ Follow You” by Bring me the Horizon. I love this song and I thought it was pretty fitting. So here ,my dear, this scenario isn’t very long but I hope it will make you feel better.

Follow You

You were coming back from school, trying to contain your tears.

You had told Alice about Alastor’s wedding proposal and she was excited for you but some other girls heard you and made fun of you. How could a man see you desirable enough to be his wife? Most of the time, you didn’t care about their vile words, but you didn’t know why, today it was hurtful. Of course, Alice had taken your side immediately swearing at them like a sailor.

You didn’t greet your parents as you went immediately into your bedroom, hiding yourself under the blankets. You couldn’t even look at yourself in the mirror. Were you even worth being Alastor’s wife? He would always say you were “endearingly stupid”, did it mean he saw you as a stupid girl? Was he manipulating you?

Were you worth being special to someone’s heart?

You jerked your head up as you heard a knock on your window. You wiped your eyes and saw Alastor, his fist against the glass, staring at you. You opened the window quickly, scared he would fall.

“ Alastor, what are you doing here?”

“ I heard my mother talking with yours through the telephone, saying you didn’t feel well, so I came to check on you.” he entered your room, looking at you. You saw his eyes stopped at your tearied one. You tried to look away but he gripped your face, making sure he could watch your expression. “ Who?”

“ What..?”

“ Who made you cry?” he said with a gentle smile but his eyes had a dark glint.

“ No one.. It’s just… Am I worth it , Alastor?”

You gasped as Alastor forced you to lay on your bed, pushing something soft in your arms. Looking down on it you almost cried some more as you saw Eamon staring back at you. You squeezed it against your chest as Alastor laid next to you, observing your face.

“ Dearest, you’re just like a jewel. Being desired by people and those who can't have you are jealous. You are like a fresh breeze in summer, so short and yet so welcomed. You are much more than how you perceive yourself.”

“ But.. I feel like I’m going to be a useless wife…”

“ Hah! You, my dear, a useless wife? You could be doing nothing at home, as long as you are waiting for me, I would feel the happiest. But why would you think that? You have always been to my side, always accepted me. Why would I choose someone else to be next to me for my entire life? How could I look at anyone else now that my eyes have seen you?”

“ Alastor.. Do you love me…?”

He looked perplexed but wrapped his arms around your body, staring at your eyes without blinking.

“ I don’t know what love is about. But if loving you is wanting to devour you all, to protect you, you have your attention on me all the time, then I guess.. that I love you. But please, dearest, remember that even though I adore you, more than anything, my love is tainted with darkness. No matter how much I’m obsessed with you, I’ll drag you down to hell with me. I'm telling you, you're all I need, I promise you, you're all I see. I’ll never leave.” he stared at you, waiting for your answer.

“ I’ll follow you.’ you breathed, staring at his chocolate eyes. “So dig two graves because when you die, I swear I'll be leaving by your side. So you can drag me through hell, I’ll follow you.” you smiled sweetly at him as he beamed at your words, his cheeks flushed. He squeezed you against his body, Eamon between the both of you.

You would always be together, the both of you. Alastor would always be by your side, like a curse, clawing at you to keep you from leaving, even if you would never think such a thing.

Your love was twisted, tainted in dark obsession but it was perfect for the both of you. Maybe people wouldn’t consider it as love, but you knew deep inside, Alastor would always chase after you if you were to run away. If you were to run away because of your feelings, your fears, everything, the only person who would chase you would be Alastor. And you knew he would never stop.

He would follow you.

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ugh-yoongi · 4 months

Text

the very last thing i decide | pjm

(or, the one in which a love exists that's easy and instinctual as much as it is painful and self-destructive.)

✘ PAIRING jimin x f. reader ✘ SUMMARY you learn what it means to love with blood on your hands. ✘ GENRE hitman/assassin au; angst, smut ✘ RATING explicit. minors dni. ✘ WARNINGS they are both hitmen (hitpeople?) so there's all the content that goes along with that: violence, death, mentions of blood (a lot) and weapons, murder, but no explicit gore. everyone is morally grey at best and downright psychotic at worst (especially yoongi). reader gets stabbed. no one knows how to be a functional human being. swearing, smoking, light smut (penetrative & oral sex), miscommunication and unrequited love but not really, i drop a classic tumblr meme in a line of dialogue. ambiguous/hopeful ending!! some of the themes here are kinda heavy and i am not entirely sure how to tag them so if you have any questions pls don’t hesitate to ask! ✘ WORDCOUNT 12k ✘ LISTEN TO manchester orchestra - telepath ✘ THANK YOU i cannot remember everyone i’ve showed this to over the years. @the-boy-meets-evil for looking this over and brainstorming with me today. @hot-soop for always being a help. @effortandmore because you told me an embarrassingly long time ago this was worth finishing. and i’m pretty sure i also sent this to @jihopesjoint at some point too. i did a quick edit of this on my own, but after nearly three years i just wanted it posted and out of my wips so i'm sure i missed things. pls ignore them. ✘ AUTHOR'S NOTE fic drops two days in a row?? who am i?? i started this in may 2021 and it was supposed to be a simple pegging fic. i abandoned it bc i was convinced no one would want to read it. between today and yesterday i have written thousands of words and made it across the finish line. i hope you like it. the violence is a metaphor for love or whatever.

[37.5665° N, 126.9780° E | Seoul, SOUTH KOREA]

Jimin’s hair had been red the first time he met you.

How fitting, he thinks, considering he’s currently bleeding out on a table.

Well, there’s still a bit of fight left in him. He hasn’t lost consciousness yet, which he assumes is a good sign; he can still hear Hoseok barking out orders quite clearly. The edges of his vision are fuzzy and the pain in his abdomen is sharp and unrelenting, but he still has enough brain power left to wish he’d died instead.

Because you’d saved his life. And now he’s further indebted to you.

(Jimin never leaves a debt unpaid, but he’s not sure how to make even on something like this.)

Jungkook and Taehyung are fetching supplies faster than Hoseok can ask for them. Two pairs of frazzled, spaced-out eyes. Four sets of trembling limbs. Namjoon’s wearing burn marks into the floor, his cuticles bloody and nearly worried to the bone since he can’t keep them out of his mouth.

And then there’s you.

Sitting cross-legged in a chair as you scroll through your phone. Jimin’s blood is still drying on your hands, leaving smears as you drag your thumb back and forth across the screen, and this doesn’t seem to faze you one bit.

Behind you, Yoongi takes a seat at the piano and starts playing Toccata and Fugue in D minor, and Jimin simply cannot die like this. He can’t die on a wooden table in a room with a piano on which Min Yoongi is playing Baroque organ pieces.

“What is this, a fucking funeral?” Hoseok snaps, though there’s a desperation creeping into his tone that Jimin does not like, does not want to hear. “Cut it out, Yoongi.”

Said man staunchly ignores the doctor, transitioning flawlessly into the fugue. Jimin barely hears the tinkle of your laughter but he hears it all the same, and he wants to pretend it doesn’t calm him, bring him back down to earth when he starts drifting too far away. But you do, and it does, and all he can think about is: will you miss him if he dies? Will it take you long to wash his blood from your hands?

Hoseok’s absolutely incensed, pushed to the limits of his stress at the thought of not being able to save Jimin’s life, and Jimin appreciates this, really, but not when Hoseok pushes two gloved fingers deep into the wound in his stomach so hard all he can do is cry. “Yoongi—”

You snort. You don’t even look up from your phone.

Namjoon, for all his leadership and stoicism and poise under pressure, is just as frantic and panicked as the rest. It’s not everyday one of his people is inches from death ten feet away from him. Most people usually die in the shadows. Kim Namjoon has faced down death more times than most, yet watching the life slowly fade from Jimin’s eyes is too much even for him. “Yoongi, please—”

But the fugue keeps going, tempo change after tempo change, the two pillars of this organization spiraling completely by the time the coda starts, unfocused and sweating and praying. To gods they don’t believe in, to hope, to chance—whatever and whoever might be listening. Jimin usually loves hearing Yoongi play. It’s the only thing that humanizes him, and Jimin had spent so many restless nights shoulder to shoulder with him on that exact bench in the blue hours of the early morning, hypnotized by the way the older man’s knobby fingers moved across the keys.

This is it, he thinks.

Jimin’s going to die with Toccata and Fugue in D minor playing in the background.

He’s imagined his death so many times. Stupid not to in this line of work. Violent, quick and painless, in his sleep, drawn out and gory, a message. And in all of those scenarios, it’s either jarringly silent or there’s someone screaming. Usually him, sounding much like he is now, two fingers stuck in his gut. In all of those scenarios, Min Yoongi is never playing Bach as everything fades to black.

You sigh. “Shut the fuck up, Yoongi,” you say, your tone as blasé and inconvenienced as ever.

Shocked at your audacity, one of Yoongi’s fingers slips and hits the wrong key, something dissonant and metallic as it rings out. But the music stops all the same, the silence nearly giving Jimin whiplash. Now he can hear the clinkof Hoseok’s tools, the squelching of his wound, Jungkook’s desperate pleading for him to just be alright, please God, just hang on. He wants the music back. He doesn’t want Jungkook’s crying to be the last thing he hears. Doesn’t want the sound of his own organs imprinted into his memory.

“What’d you say?” Yoongi asks, because no one talks to him that way. They wouldn’t dare. Most people try not to talk to him at all.

But you do.

And, inexplicably, Yoongi listens.

You roll your eyes. “You go deaf in your old age? I said shut the fuck up. Hoseok’s two knuckles deep in Jimin’s fucking stomach and you’re over there having your little Amadeus moment.”

He bristles. “Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?” Yoongi repeats, and Jimin can’t see him, but he knows his eyes are narrowed, lips pulled back in a snarl, fists clenched at his side.

“Oh, princess,” you coo, and Yoongi’s fury is palpable, permeates every inch of this place, overrides all the fear and anguish. “I’m talking to you, baby. I know Jiminie’s busy trying not to die and that’s stressful for all of us, but please do try to keep up.”

Jimin hears the flick of Yoongi’s switchblade. Then he hears him say, “Please let me fucking kill her,” in that lazy Daegu drawl of his, like forming full words are beneath him. Not worth the effort when they’re directed at you.

Still seated, you uncross your legs and, through blurred vision, Jimin watches you grab Yoongi by his belt loops to tug him closer, grab the wrist that holds his knife and press it to your own throat. “Don’t threaten me with a good time, Yoongi. Be a good boy and make it hurt.”

Jungkook’s near hysterics at Jimin’s side. “What the fuck is wrong with you two? He’s dying!”

Jimin tries to say I’m not, Kookie, I’m okay but the pressure on his abdomen is too intense. He can barely breathe, and Hoseok’s still digging around, still looking for that stupid fucking bullet, had to do something and do it quick so there’d been very little anesthetic and finesse, and he’s silently screaming for someone to just comfort Jungkook, tell him everything’s going to be okay, but instead—

“Serves him right for being a fucking idiot,” you say, words muffled by the knife still pressed to your throat. “What a painful, permanentlesson in not forgetting your fucking vest.”

“Stop it!” Jungkook sobs, fingers ghosting along Jimin’s matted fringe.

Yoongi’s still scowling. “Just say the word, Joon-ah. I’ll make it quick.”

You actually laugh at that. The kind of full-belly laugh Jimin would kill to be able to produce. “You wanna fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid.”

Someone snarls. Probably Yoongi. “You’d look so good gutted on the floor like a fish,” he replies, and if Jimin knows him at all, he knows he’s got that dreamy, faraway look in his eyes. The one he always gets when he’s about to kill—the one that makes him so unhinged and dangerous. “Left there to bleed out and die all alone like the trash you are.”

No one’s survived that look before, but you just grin, as if being on the receiving end of it is nothing more than another simple inconvenience. “Do it, then,” you prompt. “You’re so big and bad, yet here you are, waiting for Namjoon’s permission like some kind of pathetic fucking dog.”

“I’m no one’s dog.”

Your eyes slowly flick over to Namjoon. “No?” you ask, smile widening as Jimin watches you drag your heeled foot up the inside of Yoongi’s calf, his thigh, stiletto coming to rest in the center of his sternum. “That’s a shame, princess. That pretty neck of yours was just made for a collar.”

There’s no doubt in Jimin’s mind now that he actually died back in that penthouse and is now residing in whatever level of hell is watching you give his associate a semi despite him being a millisecond away from murdering you.

Yoongi would do it, too. No hesitation. You’ve been on his shit list for as long as Jimin can remember, and you’ve been daring him to put his money where his mouth is and just kill you already for just as long.

Taehyung groans. “Can you two just fuck already so the rest of us can be spared of this?”

You click your tongue, tone melting like butter. You’re fond of Taehyung, soft on him. “No can do, angel. Yoongi here knows I only have eyes for our Jiminie, and god does that hurt his little feelings.”

Your wicked smile gives away nothing—whether you’re telling a bold truth or just unnecessarily needling Yoongi further—but Jimin’s caught off guard and chokes on your words nonetheless.

Hoseok’s forceps still digging around in his stomach, there’s a quiet hurrah of triumph as he finally locates the bullet. Jimin feels nothing as he retrieves it and plucks it out, a reverberated clank! as he drops it into a kidney dish, your words the anesthetic he’s needed as they play on a loop in his head.

When he finally blacks out, either from the pain or the adrenaline or both, it’s your face that greets him. He never gets the chance to tell you why he forgot his vest.

[64.1466° N, 21.9426° W | Reykjavík, ICELAND]

Jimin’s hair is blue when it happens the first time.

It’s November. Namjoon has sent the two of you to Reykjavik and it’s dark all the time, the midnight hue of his hair blending into the impenetrable nighttime that surrounds you. Jimin works best like this—out of sight, part of the shadows. He’s light on his feet, lithe in ways no one else is, not even you, and he’s impossible to anticipate under the cover of darkness.

That’s why Jimin always takes care of the appetizers.

It’s your job to clean up the main course.

The two of you are two halves of the same lethal coin, working together flawlessly after years of carefully honed practice. Jimin slams an unsuspecting man’s head into a wall and you’re right behind him to put a bullet in it.

It’s just how it goes.

And he trusts you. He has to, otherwise he would’ve gotten taken out years ago. You’re not always in his line of sight, but he always feels you, senses your movements before you’re even on your feet. The times it’s gone wrong—and it’s gone wrong so many fucking times, despite how cautious and skilled the two of you are—you’re always right there to catch him before he even hits the ground. Just like a ghost, as if your only purpose in life is keeping Jimin safe and alive.

(It isn’t, but it sure feels that way.)

Tonight it’s another hit carried out in an overpriced penthouse overlooking the northern shore. You’re in and out, don’t waste a second more than you need to. Jimin doesn’t spare a glance at the carnage left behind. Nothing he hasn’t seen a hundred times before. All blood bleeds the same, but he still wonders, foolishly, if his looks different to you. If it feels wrong when it stains your hands and seeps into your clothes.

Jimin has never been covered in your blood before, but he likes to think it would.

The two of you don’t speak until you’re in the quiet safety of yet another hotel room, chain lock thrown across the door, deadbolt secured. A small arsenal of weapons is retrieved from ankles and waistbands and cleaned and packed away meticulously. Jimin’s the one who makes the call to Namjoon, tells him in code that the job’s done. You’ve barely broken a sweat, but under the fluorescent light of the bathroom, Jimin can see a small smattering of blood just along your temple when he closes the distance between you.

Someone else’s, of course.

Anyone who made you bleed your own blood wouldn’t be a quick, clean kill. Jimin would make sure of that.

There’s less to be done about the half-inch scar in the hollow of your throat—a pearlescent reminder of the twin scar he has just below his navel; a callback to the day your devilish mouth said the words Jimin can’t stop thinking about.

“No can do, angel. Yoongi here knows I only have eyes for our Jiminie.”

Maybe it’s stupidity. Maybe it’s the feral, years-long build up that’s been simmering between the two of you—low enough to keep warm, contained enough to never evolve into a rapid boil. Maybe Jimin’s just finally desperate enough to go seeking out answers to questions he’s far too scared to put a voice to.

(Really, Jimin knows it’s adrenaline. Nothing more than chemicals. The two of you high on it, heads floating above the clouds. Powerless; or, at the very least, indifferent to stop the very clear path that’s unfolding on the ground below.)

But, god, he needs to know.

Needs answers.

Needs to know if there’s even a chance you feel it, too: the magnetic ebb and flow the two of you have been dancing around for years. If you see how fondly he looks at you. If you have any idea how easy it is for him to get lost in you. If you know he’d let someone put a bullet between his eyes before he placed his life in the hands of anyone else.

Jimin knows he loves you. He’s known it for a long time, just like he knows all those other things that are second nature to him. Loving you is easy and instinctual as much as it is painful and self-destructive.

At least that’s what he’d thought. Until your devilish mouth said those devilish words and sent him into a tailspin he’s yet to recover from.

You have to feel it. God, can’t you? The way the air crackles between you. The way his skin ignites with a simple look from you. The trembling of his fingers at his sides, desperate to just reach out and touch you—fingers that have been bathed in blood, that have taken life. Fingers that now just want to graze softly across your cheekbones, catch on your bottom lip. Fingers that want to hand you the world on a silver platter. Jimin would do anything for you, give you whatever you wanted. You wouldn’t even have to ask.

Can’t you feel that?

He needs to know.

Jimin is composed, elegant. He kills with grace and still maintains as much of his softness as he can. Isn’t ruled by emotion the way Yoongi and Jungkook are. But now, as he teeters on the edge of the unknown, all he wants to do is jump. Wants to buck all his training, all his resolve and forethought, and jump.

“Did you mean it?” he asks, voice thick. Fingers curl into the expensive silk of his shirt just so they have something to do—something to keep them from reaching out and touching you. “Back in Seoul.”

You’re the smartest person Jimin knows. When you ask, “Did I mean what, Chim?” he knows you’re fucking with him. Dragging this out. You know exactly what he’s asking and he knows you’ll never give anything away so easily.

“What you said to Taehyung,” he answers.

You tsk, eyebrows raising in intrigue. As much as Jimin trusts you, as well as you know him, know all those dirty, dirty secrets he’d never tell anyone else, he’s never been so bold with you. “That those long fingers of his would look good wrapped around my throat? Yeah, I meant that.”

Jimin’s jaw clenches at your taunt. “Don’t play games with me.”

A smirk graces your lips. “Trust me, sweetheart,” you say, voice sickly-sweet as the affection starts popping at the last seams holding him together, “if I wanted to play with you, there’s nothing you could do to stop it.”

With Jimin pressed into the wall behind you, you turn to meet his eye in the mirror. Another smile, teeth bared as you run your tongue across your lips, and this one is his undoing. Makes his cock twitch in his dress pants. Makes him bold. “Do you want to, then?” He takes a step forward—close enough to smell the gunpowder stuck to your clothes, your hair. Close enough for the sulfur and metal to sting his nostrils each time he breathes you in. “Do you want to play with me?”

You love Jimin. Maybe it’s a trauma bond or the implicit, unwavering trust the two of you have in one another, but you know you love him limitlessly. But you also know you can’t love him the way he loves you, the way he deserves to be loved by someone, which is why your mask slips as you say, “I can’t give you what you want, Jimin.”

You try to make him understand that. Really, you do—because Jimin is the smartest person you know, and you know he’s thought about every possible consequence down to the most minute detail and has decided this is worth it anyway. You want to believe in something the way Jimin believes in you, even though he’s wrong. You want something worth throwing all of this away for.

Maybe it’s Jimin, maybe it’s not. Maybe it’s just been so fucking long since someone has looked at you with any gentleness in their eyes at all that when Jimin meets your gaze and says, “I don’t want anything more than you’re willing to give,” you take his hand and jump, too.

And there’s nothing gentle about the first time.

It’s all raw, urgent need, Jimin trying desperately to convince himself it’s more than it is while you convince yourself it’s less.

It’s the two of you finally giving up and giving in, letting yourselves be pulled taut by that invisible string tying you together.

It’s Jimin’s sharp intake of breath when you fully step out of your clothes, the sight rendering him immobile. Whatever plans he’d had before seeing the curves of your body, all the scars from years of working by his side, the mottled yellow-greens and purples from the bruises lining your skin—he has no plans now. Can barely think. Wouldn’t be able to tear his eyes away from you with a gun to his head.

It’s the final bricks of the wall he’d built around himself—around his heart, around all those words and feelings he’d never put a voice to—crumbling into ash at his feet. Now he knows he can’t go back. Can’t return to a reality where this isn’t his truth. Where there’s no you and him, him and you. Where it’s just a physical exchange, a give-and-take, tit for tat.

And god, he knows he shouldn’t think like this; knows he’s keeping the truth buried somewhere deep behind lock and key.

…But now that he knows how it feels to move inside you, what else is he supposed to do?

You’re everywhere. Clenched around him. Your taste on his tongue. The feel of you on the pads of his fingers. The smell of you making a mockery of all logical thought. No—no, he can’t do a goddamn thing to stop the avalanche now it’s started.

“Fuck,” he whines, fingers digging into your hips. The soft skin he finds purchase in such a contrast from your hardened exterior, but Jimin knows. He knows you, knows the person behind the mask, sees straight through you each time it slips.

What stared back at him had always been just out of reach.

Taunting him.

Screaming come and get me, come make me yours, come and fucking take what you want.

Until now.

Now it’s tangible. Now it’s breathy, fractured moans that echo off tile walls. Now it’s the sound of his name thatleaves your lips like a prayer. Now it’s the sheen of sweat that covers both of you. Now it’s nails scraping down his back, tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck.

(And Jimin won’t tell you this, but those red welts are proof that this is real, this happened, and later on when he’s alone, when his mind is working overtime, he’ll look at them and he’ll smile. Because they’re real. Because this happened.)

Now, it’s the way blue becomes his favorite color. Because he can see his reflection in the mirror as he unravels and comes to his own demise as he spills inside of you; can see the fluorescent lights reflecting off the hue of his hair.

Jimin’s hair is blue when he realizes he’s in love with you.

[34.6037° S, 58.3816° W | Buenos Aires, ARGENTINA]

Jimin is blond when Namjoon sends you to South America.

The details had been scarce: a diplomatic advisor with a rap sheet of human rights violations that have been continuously swept under the rug and his equally-corrupt lawyer. A candid photograph paperclipped to another manila folder, Namjoon a fan of all those old cliches. Likes being a little cheeky that way when he can get away with it, because god knows he can’t get away with much, doesn’t have much of a sense of humor.

It’s a simple job. You and Jimin will have it dealt with in a matter of hours. Less if you’re lucky and the universe is agreeable. But the humidity sticks to your skin, has sweat seeping into your clothes and rolling down your temples, and if there’s one thing you can’t stand it’s the heat. Makes it hard to think. And Namjoon—Namjoon, who makes sure all of his agents want for nothing—is a cheap bastard. Rarely approves nice lodging, says it’s too risky despite your arguments to the contrary, that people don’t care what you do when you have money, so you’re stuck in some shithole motel room with an aircon unit that keeps blowing out stale, warm air.

And maybe you shouldn’t, maybe you should be more cognizant of Jimin and all his feelings, but it’s fucking hot, so you peel your shirt over your head and undo the button of your pants. Sit on the edge of the bed and try to think about anything other than the temperature, how it’s starting to prick uncomfortably at your skin.

Jimin clears his throat, keeps his eyes glued to the disgusting carpet. “Got a text from Seokjin-ssi,” he says, words strained. “Looks like they’ll be solo jobs.”

You groan. Leave it to Seokjin to change the plan at the last minute. “Tell Kim Seokjin he’s a useless piece of shit.”

“Done. Anything else?”

“Tell Kim Namjoon if he ever sends us to South America in the summer again I’ll kill him myself.”

Jimin has a laugh like an anodyne. A laugh that takes all those broken, bleeding parts of you and soothes over them like a balm. “Seokjin-ssi says he’s not passing along that particular message.”

“Tell him he’s a bitch, then.”

“He’ll kill me if I say that.”

“He hasn’t done field work in years and he’s probably too vitamin D deficient to leave the basement. He couldn’t even kill a fucking rat.”

There’s another laugh. More forced, less tinkling. You recognize it right away, the sound of anxiety. Solo jobs aren’t common for the two of you. For Yoongi and Taehyung, sure, but not you and Jimin. You’re a team for a reason, and though you’re more than capable of getting this done and out of the way, it doesn’t feel right. Settles in your gut like something rotten, knowing you’ll be without Jimin.

And you know he’s thinking it, too. How he turns the burner over and over in his hands, as if there’s some combination of words he can send back to Seoul to get Seokjin and Namjoon to reconsider. Plans don’t change often; not like this, anyway. These have been declared solos for a reason, and that’s a thought you can’t linger on too long.

“Are they leaving it up to us?” Jimin nods, still not meeting your eye. “Do you have a preference?”

He shrugs, tossing the phone on the small table in the corner. Nothing else to be done. “Not really. What do you think?”

“Nah, don’t care, either. Just toss me one.”

Santiago Aguirre… 47 years old… Resides in a high-rise luxury apartment in Retiro…

Your eyes skim the file, study the black and white photograph of the lawyer. Read over the list of all his high-profile, degenerate clients and all their high-profile crimes. You read about the previous attempts on his life, the seemingly never-ending list of people who want him dead. Your eyes go back to his photograph, frowning at the smug look on his face. What stares back at you is a man who thinks he’s invincible, who thinks a penthouse apartment on the top floor and a security team in the lobby means he’s impervious to harm. A man who has made money off people just like him: dirty, corrupt, hands stained red.

“Okay?” Jimin asks, looking up from his own file.

He’s so striking. So safe. And you know what he’s done, giving you the hit he thinks is easier, willing to risk himself on a solo mission to ensure you make it out. There’s no guarantees in this line of work, in life in general, but Jimin’s brand of selfless love is certainly one.

So you just nod, knowing someone slimy like this can quickly go sideways, and decide you can do the same.

“I’m gonna get ready,” you say. “The plan is the same as all the other solo jobs. Get in, get it done, get out as quickly as possible. Lay low. Don’t come straight back here.”

Jimin rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “Anything else?”

You exhale. Try to quiet the nerves roiling in your stomach. Barely resist the urge to press a lingering kiss to Jimin’s forehead before you swallow hard and say, “Yeah. Stay alive.”

It comes out more like a plea.

—

You’re good at your job.

Rarely feel much guilt over it, either, which—well, you’re not sure what that means. That something is permanently broken in your psyche, probably. Being able to take life so easily and without remorse. It’s not natural.

Kim Namjoon is a man who plays God, is the one who decides who gets to live and who has to die. His word is the only law you adhere to. And that’s… that’s something. Makes it less burdensome, takes some weight off, because Kim Namjoon wouldn’t accept a morally-ambiguous job. He wouldn’t ask you to put your life on the line for some petty bullshit.

This is how you’ve lived for the last four years. Four years of blindly following Namjoon’s word, of being a good little soldier and doing whatever is asked of you. Four years of being responsible for not only your own life, but Jimin’s as well, just as he is for yours. Four years that have served you well, all things considered.

Until now.

Something about this job hits you hard. Doesn’t settle quite as quickly as the ones that have come before. For the first time, you’d looked down at the lifeless body at your feet and couldn’t stop the trembling, could barely quell the nausea. Thought what the fuck am I doing, what kind of life is this for the first time. Thought back to that day four years ago when Kim Namjoon saved your life and offered you a job and wondered, for the first time, what would’ve happened if you’d said no.

Now, as you suck on a cigarette, legs dangling off the roof of a building looking not far from collapse, a new thought:

Would Namjoon let you go if you asked?

He’s taken care of you. For four years you’ve wanted for nothing. Have socked away more money than you’ll ever be able to spend, even if you live to a thousand. You could go anywhere, become anyone, and no one would suspect a thing. There’d just be you and a million lifetimes’ worth of transgressions, alone under the weight of all that burden; alone, except for all the ghosts that come to greet you every time you close your eyes.

Doesn’t matter. Namjoon might be willing to let you go, give you the chance to salvage something from this life in the name of normalcy, but Yoongi would gladly put a bullet in your head before he let you disappear with all his secrets.

Doesn’t matter.

You stub out the cigarette and put the butt in your pocket. Make your way down to the street. Stay under the shadows—just visible enough to redirect any suspicion shot your way. You pretend to take a call, flawless Argentinian Spanish falling from your lips as you tell the imaginary person on the other end all about your fucked up day at work. How your manager never gets off your ass, doesn’t trust you, thinks you’re too fucking stupid to run a simple executable.

No one spares you a second glance.

Not here, on this nondescript street in a nondescript Argentinian neighborhood, and not when you stumble into the tiny lobby of your shithole motel. The poor kid behind the desk doesn’t even glance up, just mutters a good evening, miss under his breath that you return in a voice far too high-pitched to be your own.

Better to be seen and be unremarkable than draw attention to yourself trying to stay invisible, you figure.

The cameras in the stairwell are broken so you take the steps two at a time. Pull the room key from its place inside your boot, happy to no longer have it digging into your skin. Pause just long enough to make sure you don’t hear anything on the other side of the door before you’re unlocking it with your free hand wrapped around the trigger of your gun.

It’s empty.

Of course it is.

Jimin stashed the burner in a place no one but you would think to look. You text one simple word to Seokjin—Hey!—and you get two in return: Who’s this?

You know who it is, you fucking dickhead.

It takes a few seconds, but the reply is a simple—

Sorry.

Then you toss aside the phone and float in the darkness of the room. There’s nothing to do but wait, because you don’t dare to do anything alone. There’s sweat and blood and fuck knows what else stuck to your skin, your hair, but you can’t risk taking a shower. Can’t risk the water dampening your senses. Can’t risk being cornered in a moldy bathroom, only one way out. Can’t risk doing anything alone. Can’t take a fucking shower.

It’s this thought, more than anything else, that has your body flushing with rage.

What kind of life is this?

Namjoon had never mentioned repaying your debt. He’d never insinuated you owed him anything at all for saving your life, but you know something like that never comes for free. Namjoon doesn’t do anything just because. Has no goodness in his heart to do anything in the name of it. Watching Jimin nearly die in front of him had been the exception to his usual nature; a rare slip-up by an otherwise detached, uncaring man.

Still, whatever you owe him has surely been repaid by now. Tenfold, if the bloodstains along your collar are anything to go by.

It’s time for Namjoon to let you go.

—

Something is wrong.

Two hours have ticked by and there’s no word from Jimin. No word from Namjoon or Seokjin, either, which is the only reason you’re still in this nauseating motel room and not out on the streets searching for him. Solo jobs don’t go like this. The two of you are always in and out, tragically efficient. Back to where you started and then back on a plane, nothing left behind except a singular bullet hole and another fragmented piece of your conscience.

You’ve had a lot of jobs go wrong, but never two hours.

You’re about three minutes from coming out of your skin. Sick to your stomach with worry, anxiety weighing you down like an anchor. You wouldn’t be able to go out searching for Jimin like this even if you could, and there’s no point in dwelling on that, examining it further. All you can do is wait.

It’s another hour before you hear the click of the lock. You’re nearly on your knees in relief, but you stay rooted to the flimsy mattress. Try not to think about how you’ll have to sleep on it, even though you’ll be up half the night with residual worry. All those lingering ghosts.

Jimin doesn’t say anything, so neither do you.

[55.6761° N, 12.5683° E | Copenhagen, DENMARK]

Jimin’s hair is orange when you go to Copenhagen.

Not for a job, just to breathe. You wanted to see the city at Christmastime; Jimin’s never been.

You crack a joke. Point out buildings of similar color, have him stand in front of one as you take a picture. Everyone smiles when they pass the two of you on the street, Jimin’s eyes fond even though he rolls them as you pose him how you want. Still stands against an apricot-colored wall and flashes a smile and a peace sign, cheeks pink from the cold. Does a good job of pretending the two of you aren’t here just for fun, that this is something more.

It’s not.

The two of you fucked in a hotel room in Reykjavik and haven’t spoken a word of it since.

You nearly lost your mind over him in Buenos Aires and haven’t spoken a word of that, either.

Instead, his hand finds yours as the two of you walk around Tivoli Gardens. You marvel at the lights and Jimin marvels at you. You share mulled wine and spiced doughnuts. Jimin tries to drag you on the swings but you plant your feet and refuse, laughing through your refusals. As dangerous as your lives are, motion sickness might be the most. He gets his revenge and poses you in front of a giant nutcracker, then again in front of one of the endless Christmas trees.

Jimin pays for the two of you to decorate honey cakes. You’re surrounded by families with shrieking children and palpable adoration, and it’s all you can do not to wonder if anyone you’ve taken out had ever had something like this. Something that makes your soul warm; something that still lingers in your bones years later.

The two of you take a selfie when it starts to snow. It stings when you have no one to send it to, so it just lives in your phone. Maybe it’s enough.

On another day, Jimin holds your hand through Torvehallerne. This time you marvel at him while he marvels at all the food, eyes wide each time he turns to ask if he should buy something. You always say yes and he always shares, and it’s all you can do not to think about why you don’t have to budget yourselves. Why you’re able to walk through the market and buy whatever you want; how you could buy every item for sale and it wouldn’t make a dent.

(You pick up small trinkets for Taehyung and Jungkook. Not because you want to, but because it feels nicer than remembering that you have no one to buy gifts for. Not really. Not anymore.)

Jimin wants to ice skate, so you do. He holds your hand then, too. More out of necessity than anything else, and he has none of his usual grace. Someone hands you a free cup of hot chocolate, just because. Jimin pouts and then it’s his hot chocolate. It’s all you can do not to kiss away the whipped cream on the corner of his mouth.

Back in your lavish hotel, after countless days have blurred together and Jimin’s fresh from a shower, skin flushed, you finally ask yourself if it’s worth putting up such a fight. If it’s really all that bad to care for Jimin and be cared for in return. If it’s all that bad to be someone else, just for a little while: someone with a normal life who makes a normal living and has a normal capability to love. Someone who isn’t damaged beyond repair.

That will never be you. Not fully, and certainly not in this lifetime, but maybe it could be, a little.

“Jimin,” you say, because you need to try. Jimin loves you in ways you’ll never understand, and you want to be better for him. “We should talk.”

Your voice is small and hesitant, and Jimin hates it. Sees trouble where there’s only vulnerability, so he misreads. Shakes his head. Takes a risk and stands between your legs at the edge of the bed—yours, because there’s two—as he tilts your head back, thumbs pressing into the contours of your cheeks. The scar still sits in the hollow of your throat, and that version of you feels so far away. That life feels so far away.

There’s no violence here. There’s no blood, no fugues. There’s just you and Jimin, whose voice is small like yours when he shakes his head and says, “You should kiss me instead.”

The second time is nothing like the first.

Jimin moves delicately. Feels like silk lace, tastes like spun sugar. Moves both his mouth and his body fluidly, no hesitation, yet he still takes his time. Still pauses to look at you with endless devotion; with awed reverence. Makes a map of your body and marks all his favorite places with his lips.

“Tell me what you want,” he says. Speaks the words against the skin just beneath your ear. “Anything. I’ll give you whatever you want, just have to ask.”

What you want isn’t tangible, isn’t possible, so you stay quiet. Thread your fingers through Jimin’s hair, gasp when he mouths along the column of your throat. Jimin reserves all his softness for you. Bathes you in it. Would kill anyone to keep it that way.

So you say, “Want your mouth,” and let slip a quiet moan when he gives you what you’ve asked for. When he situates himself between your thighs and sucks and licks until you’re writhing, making a mess, grasping fruitlessly at the sheets, his hair, his shoulders, only calming when his hands find yours and your fingers interlock.

Jimin mouths at you until you’re trembling. Until you’re needy and desperate, hips moving on their own, fucking yourself against his face. Until nothing exists except the heat in your belly, the stars behind your eyelids, the heady, fucked-out sound of Jimin’s voice as he talks you through it, murmurs praise against your cunt.

Jimin mouths at you until you forget.

This isn’t your life. This is not something you can have.

But, in the grand scheme of things, what does it matter? You’ve made peace with death, and there’s only one of two ways it’s going to come for you in the end: by Namjoon’s hand or someone else’s. So what does it matter?

This time, Jimin fucks you slow. Kisses you with your taste still in his mouth. Thumbs over a hardened nipple just to see what earns him a reaction, and what you truly want is more time—something else that’s impossible.

Jimin’s hair is orange when you think you might be in love with him.

[ 48.8566° N, 2.3522° E | Paris, FRANCE ]

Jimin’s hair is pink when—

“Sit,” he says, gesturing to the toilet.

Soaks a washcloth in warm water. Wrings it out. Stands in front of you, and there’s water dripping onto the floor and Jimin doesn’t care, doesn’t seem to see anything in this moment except for you, your hands covered in someone else’s blood, and he reaches out, gently grabs your wrist. Palm up. Someone else’s blood. Everything smells like copper and iron. Looks too surreal beneath the fluorescent lights of this hotel bathroom for your mind to make sense of it.

There is care in the way Jimin cleans your hands. There is tenderness in the way he both refuses to see what you really are and the way he’s the only one to ever see you so entirely, when you look down at the blood he’s washing away and all you can see is stigmata. When all you see is sin.

“I know you don’t love me,” he says, and there is a conviction in his words that stuns you into silence. “Not the way I love you, anyway.”

That tenderness is still there as he says this. As he presses the wet fabric into the meat of your palm, wipes the stains away, and the warmth is as calming as it is undeserved. It feels like something forbidden. It feels like salvation and condemnation all at once, like whatever sick depravity permeates you is contagious, will take over Jimin, too, just from touching you.

Jimin is close enough to reach out and touch. Close enough to see the violence that he exists in alongside you: the rips in his clothes, the scars that decorate his skin. Close enough to know he smells sickly-sweet, just like death. Your hand shakes as it reaches for him and never follows through. Doesn’t want to contaminate him.

“I do,” you finally say. Whatever is in your voice is not conviction. “I can’t.” You suck in a breath, try to steady your breathing. This is where it all comes crashing down, you think, because in all the years you’ve done Namjoon’s bidding, you’ve never cried. You can take life so freely and without thought, but you cannot love Jimin. “Someone like me isn’t capable of it.”

Jimin pauses, the washcloth stuck in the space between your ring and middle fingers. “And who is someone like you?”

Water is still dripping to the floor. Serosanguineous: blood tainting something untouched. Not something one thing or another but both, watery-pink. Looks like Jimin’s hair. “I’ve killed a lot of people,” you answer. “More than I can count. More than I can name. More than the ones that come to haunt me at night.” Your free hand moves to your chest, covers your heart. “There’s nothing here, Jimin. I’m not sure there ever was.”

The washcloth drops to the floor, and all that blood belonging to a man whose name you never bothered to learn before you put a bullet between his eyes finds a new place to rest. “I think,” he begins, clasping your unclean hand in his own, voice dropping to a whisper, “you forget, sometimes.” You gasp as he places your palm to his cheek, drags it across his face, smears a stranger’s blood across his skin. “That we’re the same.”

Jimin is always overwhelming, but the love he has for you is even more so. It consumes you entirely, embeds itself beneath your skin, makes a home, would tear you apart, body and soul, to return to him.

[ 47.4979° N, 19.0402° E | Budapest, HUNGARY ]

Jimin’s hair is lavender when it all goes to shit.

“You’re being followed.”

Seokjin’s voice is garbled through the earpiece, tinny and metallic, and you roll your eyes. Some things don’t need to be said, because you’ve known someone was following you for the last three blocks. Average height, black peacoat, close-cropped haircut. Not the kind of person that’d stand out here, and that’s exactly why you’d sent Jimin in the other direction.

“No shit,” you respond in Hungarian, because you already know the man following you doesn’t speak or understand it. “Give me somewhere to go.”

It takes Seokjin a few moments to run the translation. “There’s a side street up on your right,” he answers. “It’s tight, but there’s an alleyway at the end. You can buy some time if you’re quick.”

“Where’s Jimin?”

You pass a vendor selling lángos and duck into the street behind the stall. Just as Seokjin had said, there’s a small alleyway up on the left, and your footfall is near-silent as you break into a sprint to reach it. “Safe,” is all Seokjin says.

You take a second to steady your breathing, knowing you’re good on time—the man following you was close enough to know where you’d turned, but, if you’re lucky, not much after that. That plays on a loop: if you’re lucky, if you’re lucky, if you’re lucky. What is luck, what does it look like, in a life left entirely to chance? In a life with no guarantees?

You tuck yourself away, focus on Seokjin’s metallic breaths. Think about his basement in Seoul, why he’s in it. Ask, “What happened in Addis Ababa?” because it feels important to know.

There’s not much you know about Seokjin’s life. Whatever happened in Ethiopia had been before your time, reduced to hushed whispers and gossip fodder after your arrival. No one spoke of it, Seokjin especially, but every now and then something would slip in the same way weeds grow in sidewalk cracks.

A job gone wrong. A bombing at the consulate with Seokjin inside.

His reply is simple, words spoken carefully: “I loved someone once, too.”

He can’t see it, but you nod nonetheless; an answer that doesn’t require a response, because you know. It’s enough to fill in the rest. What Seokjin’s trauma looks like. Why he doesn’t do field work anymore. Why he prefers the solitude of the basement, rarely a sound beyond the electric thrum of the server racks.

Who had gone in to retrieve him, and why Yoongi has the scar over his eye.

“You loved someone,” you conclude, “and he would’ve been willing to die for you.”

“Yes,” Seokjin says, and it’s like the word’s been punched out of him. Sounds like something repressed, something left to rot in the darkest corner of the world.

Love, to Seokjin, looks and sounds the same as death.

“I think most people spend their entire lives searching for a love like that,” he continues, and if you could see him you think he might look dazed, off-kilter. You think he might be an avatar. Seokjin is prying his ribcage apart, unwrapping the barbed wire from his heart, saying I once was in love and this is all I know of it. “But, to me, in this life, it’s a prison. Once someone is willing to die for you, how do you keep them alive? How do you—I kissed that skin. I worshiped it. I pressed my lips to it with whatever softness was left in me. How do you look at that same skin and know you’re the reason it’s mangled?” He exhales, all tremor. “You can’t. You can’t.”

You know this all too well. You know what it feels like to look at Jimin and know, intrinsically and subconsciously, that you wouldn’t even hesitate. You’d take and give life to keep him alive and safe. You know that when you exit this world at someone else’s hand his face is the last thing you want to see.

You know it’s a liability.

You know it’s a target painted on your back. Between your eyes.

You know there’s nothing left to say, that this particular conversation has run its course. The two of you sit in an amicable silence, and you hope Seokjin can hear the life that surrounds you, however mundane. Hope he can hear the lángos vendor trying to hawk his goods; hope he can hear a city 8,000 kilometers away; hope he can hear these regular, everyday people going about their lives and remember there’s hope beyond his four walls.

I think you’d like it here, you think, but you don’t dare to say it aloud.

Time passes in a meaningless blur. Could be minutes, could be hours. No one’s come to kill you, so you reckon you’ve long since been in the clear. And maybe it speaks to Seokjin’s idea that love is a prison, because you know something’s happened to Jimin long before Seokjin speaks it into existence.

You’re up and out of the alleyway before you’re told to move. Have no idea where you’re going, but you’re racing through the streets of Budapest with a panic you haven’t ever felt in your life. Feels like quicksand; feels like molasses; feels like you have to wade through all the blood you’ve spilled, now congealed, to get to him.

“Where am I going?” you demand. Your lungs are on fire. In the split-second of silence it becomes a desperate scream. “Seokjin, tell me where the fuck I’m going!”

“The—fuck, the wa-warehouse up on your right.” You can’t think about why he’s crying. “I don’t—I don’t know wha-what’s there, you need to be careful. Please, you have to—”

Twenty seconds and you’ll be there, you’ll be with Jimin, you just need to keep running. You need to keep your head on straight. Remember your training. Remember you’ve built a life in a viper pit.

A man in a uniform is unloading a shipment around the back of the building. Faces away from you, bent at the waist. Takes very little effort to smash his head into the stone exterior and knock him unconscious, pocket his badge. You can’t get stupid now. Tell Seokjin to make sure all the cameras are cut, ask what floor when you shut yourself inside the freight elevator, unwilling to take the stairs and run into anyone who might be waiting. All the way to the top, he says, so all the way to the top you go.

—

Over the course of your life, you’ve made peace with death. Have stared it in the eye more times than you can count. Have dealt it out, evaded it, shook its hand.

You are wholly unprepared for the sight that greets you.

Red. Everything is red—the walls, the floor, what used to be a beautiful parquet pattern in the wood. In the center of the room: two bodies, maybe three. Not much that’d be able to identify them beyond a pile of teeth, no saying whose is whose. Slaughterhouse scraps.

And this is not—Jimin doesn’t work this way. Isn’t his MO. Jimin’s kills are elegant and neat, topped with a bow. What you see before you is ultraviolence. It is unhinged, it is fury, it is a complete loss of control. It’s what love looks like to Jimin, because he sits at the very edge of a rotted chair, legs crossed. Face streaked with blood, clothes covered in it.

“Jimin,” you say, because what else is there?

He tilts his head to the side, smirks a little, looks at you beneath his lashes. Eyes that used to find you across a room and calm you. Eyes that have locked onto you in the throes of pleasure. Eyes you’ve seen yourself reflected in, bathed in love and adoration.

Eyes that now contain nothing.

“Jimin, what the fuck happened?”

He removes his gloves with his teeth and doesn’t flinch away from the taste of iron. “They said they hurt you,” he states simply, “so I did what needed to be done.”

“What—” Nausea claws at your throat; for the first time, it’s all too much. This isn’t Jimin. This isn’t your Jimin, who smiled as you posed him against apricot walls in Copenhagen, who took a bullet to the stomach to protect you and never, ever told you. This is not the Jimin who wasted the last of his goodwill on loving you. “What did you do?” you whisper.

He rises to full height and it makes you flinch. You are scared of Jimin for the first time in your life: scared of who he is in this moment, what he’s capable of. And he sees it, lets that brand of anguish overtake him. Reaches for you before he decides against it and lets his hand drop to his side. Says, “I would never hurt you,” as if the words could brand themselves into your skin so you’d never forget.

“No, you’d just—” You squeeze your eyes shut. Don’t think about how one of the men nearly embedded into the floor was the one trailing you earlier.

Instead, you think about Seokjin: Once someone is willing to die for you, how do you keep them alive? You think about: How do you look at that same skin and know you’re the reason it’s mangled? You think about: In this life, it’s a prison.

You drop to your knees. Let the blood seep through your clothes and into your skin, undeserving of shying away from it.

Namjoon should’ve let you go.

You think about the men in front of you. Who they were, who they loved. The grief all of this is going to leave behind, and it becomes impossible to breathe. You grasp at your throat, think about all the times you’ve been strangled and who’d been there to cut the rope. There is no limit to Jimin’s devotion, and you understand now, how it drove Yoongi to madness. How he loved someone so much he would’ve retrieved their corpse from a building and how that same person can no longer bear to look at the damage they’d caused.

“This isn’t love, Jimin,” you choke out.

He stands in front of you. Stigmata. You’re worshiping at the altar of some kind of devil. At least his hands are clean when he places his fingers beneath your chin, forces you to look up at him. “What is it, then?”

“Destruction.”

A quiet huff of cruel laughter. “See, this is the difference between me and you, darling.” He takes back his hand, runs it through his blood-streaked hair, and your chin sags to your chest without his support. “Because I already knew that. Because I have destroyed myself every single day loving you.” He squats down, eye-level, and he says, “I need you to listen to me when I say this, sweetheart: you do not love me the way I love you, because I would do worse. When it comes to you, there is nothing on this earth I would not destroy to keep you safe.”

He clears his throat. Collects whatever’s in his mouth and spits onto one of the bodies. “If this is enough to have you tucking your fucking tail between your legs, then go, because this doesn’t even scratch the fucking surface.”

You can’t bring yourself to say anything, and sometimes that says it all.

Jimin presses a kiss to the top of your head. Makes a call. Cleaners will be here soon, he says, better get going.

You watch him go.

[ 37.5665° N, 126.9780° E | Seoul, SOUTH KOREA ]

Jimin’s hair is black when Namjoon calls the meeting.

He takes the seat across from Namjoon’s desk because they don’t meet like this often. Assignments are usually manila folders slipped under doors, hushed whispers in hallways confirmed with a nod or a text on a burner phone. Assignments are not last-minute assemblies in conference rooms and offices.

But the way Namjoon is looking at him, with his clenched jaw and a gaze that’s meant to look barbed to anyone who doesn’t actually know him—Jimin doesn’t need to ask what this is about.

Had he bothered to look, he would’ve known by the way you stood in the far corner of the room, face obscured by the mid-afternoon shadows. Yoongi’s close to you, for some reason: dressed head to toe in black, perched on a lateral file cabinet, using a metal corner to sharpen his switchblade. Just like a harbinger of death. Some sort of fucked up omen, a warning that’s come too late.

Didn’t I tell you this would end badly, he hears Yoongi taunt in his head. This is what happens when you lay with trash.

Easy for Yoongi to say when he doesn’t know what it means to be cared for by you. Doesn’t know how it feels to give in to the freefall and plummet at your feet, stripped back and laid bare. Doesn’t know how it feels to kiss secrets into your skin like constellations, to map his tongue along every unspoken confession.

Easy for Yoongi to say, because he doesn’t have to survive the aftermath. Doesn’t have to feel the heartbreak, the agony of having you and watching as you slip through his fingers. Yoongi doesn’t have to struggle just to breathe, doesn’t have to endure the nights staring at the ceiling, watching as the daylight creeps into the corners of his vision. Doesn’t have to watch you looking so unaffected.

“Jimin.” Namjoon’s tone is flat, needlelike.

Behind him, Yoongi chuckles lowly. “What?” Jimin asks, his gaze trained on the painting behind Namjoon’s head. Looks like one he’d seen in Berlin, the time the two of you had gone just because and spent an afternoon ducking in and out of museums to escape the rain.

When he closes his eyes, he still sees the raindrops stuck to your eyelashes. The beads of water rolling off the sleeves of your leather jacket. How blinding your smile had been. The laughter in your voice as you ordered beer after beer after beer for the two of you in flawless Berlinisch. A brief, fleeting glimpse at normalcy. At the kind of life the two of you could have if you were just… different. Lived different lives. Were different people.

“You’ve gotten sloppy.”

Namjoon’s words are a cold bucket of water. Snap him back to reality, yank him back to the present where he’s forced to leave those river-lined streets behind. You’re silent and Yoongi’s still snorting laughter. “Okay,” is all Jimin can bring himself to say.

Jin had gotten sloppy once, too, and Namjoon stuck him down in the basement to work logistics. Might not be so bad, Jimin reckons. He’d be away from you, spared of this fucking misery. “So you know that’s unacceptable.”

Jimin just shrugs, resigned to his fate, whatever it may be. “I’m reassigning the both of you,” Namjoon continues. “You’ll both have new partners for your next assignments, since you clearly can no longer be trusted together.”

“Who?” Jimin manages to choke out.

Namjoon raises an eyebrow, clearly having expected an argument. “You’re being sent to Shanghai with Jungkook. You,” he says, turning his attention to you, “are going to Moscow with Taehyung.”

She’s fond of Taehyung, Jimin wants to say. But you’d been fond of him too, once upon a time, and that’d only ended in heartbreak, so who fucking cares.

They’re cruel, the tricks Jimin’s mind plays on him. How he convinces himself you look pained. How his fingers wring together at the thought of entrusting his life in the hands of someone else, someone new. At your life being just as at stake; at Taehyung being tasked with keeping you alive. Would you die for him, too, the way you’d always told Jimin you would for him? Would Taehyung take a bullet to the stomach to keep you safe the way Jimin had?

Even more cruel is the way you scoff, pushing yourself off of the wall as you fold your arms across your chest and say, “That’s bullshit, Kim Namjoon.”

No one talks to Namjoon that way except you.

Yoongi’s knife stops twirling. Just like a bird sensing a storm, senses on high-alert as he flicks his gaze over to you. “I’m sorry?” Namjoon says. “What part of Jimin losing his mind and nearly outing all of us seems like bullshit to you?”

“Hm, let me think,” you retort, a manicured finger tapping against the hollow of your cheek. “The part where you’re reassigning me for someone else’s mistake?”

Which part was the mistake? Jimin wants to ask. Needs to know how much you regret. Was sleeping with you the mistake? Falling in love with you? Getting too caught up in all these daydreams and letting reality get away from him?

“This organization is more important than Park Jimin getting his goddamn dick wet,” Namjoon snaps. “Keeping all of you safe—keeping you alive—is more—”

You scoff. Take an entire container of gasoline and pour it right on top of Namjoon’s flammable ire. “Then perhaps you’d be so kind as to explain to me why Min fucking Yoongi can fuck damn near everyone in this establishment, yet I have to sit here and listen to your goddamn mouth—”

Jimin doesn’t think Yoongi even knows his arm is moving.

There’d just been the trading of barbed words. His own name being spoken into the ether. Yoongi’s arm moving away from his body, switchblade clasped tightly between his fingers as he plunges it into your flesh.

Jimin watches it puncture your arm in slow motion. Feels the bile in his throat, the heat in his belly. Looks first at Namjoon whose jaw has gone slack, skin pale, as he stammers over words that won’t come. Then he looks at Yoongi—expects to find shock or guilt but finds only a muted disinterest and flared nostrils.

Finally, he looks at you. Watches the white cotton sleeve of your shirt slowly turn red and sticky-wet. Watches as your lips move around syllables and vowels and consonants Jimin can’t decipher.

“—fucking piece of shit, this is my favorite shirt! I’ll never get all this goddamn blood out of it—”

Jimin thinks he hears Yoongi say you deserve it. But Jimin isn’t really thinking much as he clambers out of his chair and moves in Yoongi’s direction. Doesn’t think at all as he lets instinct take over, lets adrenaline steer him headfirst into yet another bad idea.

He’s always known there’d come a day he’d be face-to-face with the sight of your blood. Had always known it’d come from someone else’s hand. Had always promised himself that hurting you would be the last thing anyone ever did.

Jimin has his fingers wrapped around Yoongi’s throat and he finally understands it—the joy Yoongi finds in taking life.

“What’s the matter, Jimin-ah?” Yoongi taunts. Jimin tightens his grip. Suddenly hates that fucking scar across Yoongi’s eye. “You’re never on clean-up duty. Always make your girlfriend do the dirty work. Finally grew some fucking balls, huh?”

“Fuck you,” Jimin says stupidly. Can’t think of anything more to say. Not that he needs to. Wrapping your hands around someone’s throat sends enough of a message, he thinks.

Namjoon’s still tongue-tied as you yank Yoongi’s blade from your arm, immediately pressing your other hand over the wound to stem the bleeding. The sight of your blood is making Jimin dizzy; the smell of the iron hanging in the air. All he wants to do is choke the life out of the man in front of him, but more than that, he just wants to hold your hand. Wants to comfort you, even though he knows you don’t need it. Not from him, not from anyone, but he still wants to. Wants to press his lips to the sweat at your brow.

And Yoongi can see it, too, because he starts laughing. It’s an odd, fractured noise. Jimin isn’t sure if he’s ever heard him laugh before, decides he also hates the way it sounds. Feels all wrong watching it leave his crooked smirk. Makes Jimin’s stomach plummet to the ground.

“Oh, you’re fucked, aren’t you?” Yoongi teases around Jimin’s slackened grip. “You weren’t just fucking her, you’re in love with her.”

Weird how Jimin is the one with his hands around someone’s neck and feels like he’s the one suffocating.

[ 31.2304° N, 121.4737° E | Shanghai, CHINA ]

Jimin watches the life drain from an innocent woman’s face and feels nothing.

Jimin watches Jungkook cut a man down and feels even less.

When it’s over, he cleans up wordlessly and doesn’t eat for three days.

[ 37.5665° N, 126.9780° E | Seoul, SOUTH KOREA ]

Jimin’s hair has faded to brown by the time he returns from Shanghai.

The more complicated job had gone to you and Taehyung. Jimin had tried not to take it personally. The Russian hits are always unnecessarily violent and Jungkook still isn’t fully trained. There’s still a phantom pain in Jimin’s stomach that warns him of the consequences of taking on more than he can chew. So, sure, Shanghai had gone fine, but his mind had been nearly 7,000 kilometers away the entire time.

Good thing he’d returned to Seoul unscathed, too, because he’s sure Namjoon would’ve eliminated him without a moment’s hesitation if he’d fucked up again.

But Shanghai had only served to prove the leader right. Jimin can’t work with you anymore. Can’t focus, can’t stomach the violence, can’t keep his goddamn head on straight.

He sighs as he glances at Jungkook to his right. Jimin had watched him murder two men in cold blood not even thirty-six hours ago and now he’s doe-eyed and sucking down his third banana milk of the morning. It really makes his head spin, being paired with this grown-up infant of a man now instead of you, but for all of Jungkook’s apparent shortcomings, he’d kept Jimin alive. He isn’t dead.

And then you walk in with Taehyung and he wishes he was.

Because you’re laughing and Taehyung’s got his arm slung around your shoulder and you look happy. It’s the kind of happiness that should be contagious, bloom warmth in his chest, but it doesn’t. It just takes the last frayed strand of hope he has and sets flame to it.

You don’t look like you miss Jimin at all. Don’t look like you’ve lost sleep or skipped meals.

“Didn’t take you long, did it?” Jimin says, because he’s wounded and lashing out. Not because he means it.

You must know he doesn’t, too, because you don’t react. “Watch your mouth, Park Jimin,” Taehyung warns, because he doesn’t know, and this only sets Jimin off more. You don’t need defending. Or had you, and Jimin had simply thought it wasn’t his place to provide it? That you wouldn’t want it?

“Or what, Kim Taehyung?”

Taehyung is cherubic. It’s part of his charm, one of many reasons why he’s so effective. If you’re looking to die, you look for the guy who looks like Yoongi, not the one who smiles wide and warm like Taehyung. So when he sets his jaw and pokes his tongue into his cheek and says, “Or I’ll cut your fucking head off, you stupid fuck,” your attention is finally piqued.

“I’m so sick of this,” Jungkook wails, banana milk tossed carelessly in the trash. “All of you need to get your fucking shit together!”

Taehyung rolls his eyes at the same time you pretend to inspect your nails. “Is that why you’re so temperamental, Chim?” Taehyung prods, looking every bit the pretentious, murderous angel he is. “Because you got sent to China on a babysitting mission while the grownups did real work?”

“Fuck you,” Jungkook snaps, rising to full height. “I’m not a fucking child.”

“Oh? Could’ve fooled me.” Taehyung’s words are razor-sharp and smell like kerosene. “Tell me, then: were you on babysitting duty? Had to look after our precious little Jiminie while he nursed his broken heart?”

You sigh, full of faux-exasperation, and place a gentle hand on Taehyung’s forearm. Dig your nails in just enough to be a warning, and if Jimin hadn’t been looking he’d miss it: the way Taehyung deflates instantly, anger dissipating like smoke, back in control. Just because you’d touched him. Just because you were there. Jimin knows that touch, how it feels to be under your control, and it makes his chest ache. Makes everything feel like it’s sitting wrong in his stomach, and he’s either going to be sick all over Namjoon’s overpriced fucking rug or wrap his hands around Taehyung’s throat the way he’d done to Yoongi.

He’s out of his goddamned mind; he feels untethered. Helpless. Like it was always going to end like this, and maybe Jimin knew that and had just ignored it. Maybe now he’s paying the price—maybe he’s finally found something he can’t afford.

Jungkook’s still going off, nasty gaze set on Taehyung because he’s the only one playing along. They’re exchanging words Jimin can’t make heads nor tails of. Words he doesn’t care about. Words that ring empty and hollow because they sound nothing like the way you say his name. Shapeless, unlike the way your lips move around those syllables.

“Jimin,” you say, the sound finally registering and bringing him back down to earth. All he can do is stare. “Can we talk?” Taehyung and Jungkook are still trading barbs.

Wonders how he got here. Looks around the room and wonders if each and every one of them is destined for this same fate, this madness. Wants to tell you why he forgot his vest, why he was three hours late in Argentina. Wants to grovel and beg and leave this place and never look back.

More than anything, he wants to know what it feels like to actually be human.

So he shakes his head. Tries not to be haunted by the way your face falls at the rejection.

There is a scar on his abdomen and a scar on your arm that both tell the same story. There is a man in the basement who is in love with a man above ground and is too weighed down by guilt to do anything about it. There is a man here who plays god, has soldiers to do his bidding, and there is very little here that Jimin has only for himself.

The two of you will have that conversation, but he needs to be human, first.

[ 34.6901° N, 135.1956° E | Kobe, JAPAN ]

This is a waste of your fucking time.

Whatever Namjoon had thought would be here doesn’t seem to exist. Yoongi can barely tolerate you on a good day, threatens to stick a dagger in your neck at least twice an hour, but the more time the two of you waste chasing ghosts, the closer he comes to unraveling entirely.

“Stop fucking staring at me,” he snaps, blowing the smoke of his cigarette right in your face.

You tut. “But you’re so beautiful, Yoongi, I just can’t help it.”

He digs his switchblade from his boot. Makes a show of flipping it open. “I can cut your fuckin’ eyes out of your skull,” he intones. “Maybe that’ll help.”

In your ear, Jimin’s laughter rings like crystal.

Ricochets off of all the corners of Seokjin’s basement, makes the echo sound warped through the earpiece. “Please tell Yoongi-ssi to keep an eye on the man with the shaved head. In front of him, roughly sixty degrees to his right.”

You relay the message. Watch as Yoongi transforms—sharpened gaze, rigid posture, disappears into the shadows. More apex predator than man. “And me?” you ask.

“Backup,” comes Seokjin’s voice. “We haven’t found your mark yet.”

You hum. Pick up the cigarette Yoongi left behind and stick it between your lips. Smoke it nearly to the filter. “You got it, boss,” you tease, just because it flusters him.

“I’m—that’s not—knock it off.”

Exhale. Stub out the cigarette. Butt in your pocket. “Anything else?”

“Yeah,” Jimin says, and his voice is soft, sounds like spun sugar. “Stay alive, all right?”

Jimin’s hair isn’t dyed at all.

if you've read this far: thank you so, so much! i am more appreciative than i can put into words. this is very different from what i typically write, but i hope you enjoyed it nonetheless.

i would love to hear your thoughts if you have any. <3

#jimin x reader #jimin smut #bts x reader #bts smut #jimin imagine #jimin scenarios #jimin fanfic #jimin x you #jimin x y/n #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts fanfic #bts x you #bts x y/n

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pilot-boi · 1 month

Note

Pilot, I know you primarily bully Jaune. But would you mind having a go at Papa Arc talking to the Vacuo mural?

Orion Arc is not a hero, even though his son always thought he was. He’s just a man who loves his family and tries his best to do right by them.

So it’s more than a little strange standing there, in front of a mural of his own son’s face. His boy immortalized and honored in ways Orion could never dream of.

His son looks like a stranger.

“Mr. Branwen thought it might help to talk to ya.” Orion’s hand brushes over the palm prints of countless children, all paying their respect to his boy. “Don’t see much point, ain’t gonna bring you back.”

His son watches him, all quiet confidence and bravery. A true warrior, a hero. Where is his brash anxious son who begged to join the Huntsman Academies? How much of his son did he lose when Jaune finally left home? Somewhere along the way his boy grew into a man and he wasn’t there to help him.

“Your uh…” He clears his throat. “Your mother misses you.” And it sounds pathetic even as he says it. Even in front of a facsimile of his son he can’t say what he needs to.

“She was beside herself when you didn’t come back from Haven.” So was he, even more so than his wife. Orion paced the house for days, worry driving him to throw himself into work, into anything that would take his mind off the attack and the fate of his boy. “We were so relieved to hear from Saph about you and your friends.”

His friends. A group of seven that from all accounts Jaune grew closer to than even his sisters. Orion glances up at the others in the mural. Four of which fell alongside his boy, and the other three were left grieving.

Ren, Nora, and Oscar, he remembers them being called. He never thought he’d see his grief echoed in faces so young.

“As soon as we saw the broadcast, your mother was packin’ our bags.” Orion chuckles. “You shoulda seen her, she was fixin’ to march up to the General herself and teach him a lesson. If I ever wondered where you got your fire, I got my answer.”

His face falls, crumpling like paper. “And I triedta douse that fire.” How many times did he tell Jaune it was okay if he failed? How many times did he refuse to train him? How many times did he let his fear guide him to crush his son’s dreams?

“When you walked into the livin’ room with your transcripts in hand sayin’ you were gonna be a Huntsman whether I wanted it or not, why…” His eyes are stinging. If there’s anything his son inherited from him, it’s his tendency for emotions to live near the surface. “Why that was the proudest day of my life.”

He’d never been more proud. Never. His boy standing there with those papers clutched in his fist, and a defiant look on his face. “I won’t let you down.” Jaune had said.

You could never let me down. It’s what he should’ve said. Why didn’t he just say it?

Orion scrubs the heel of his hand into his eyes. It does nothing to stop the flow of tears. “Did I ever once tell ya how proud I am of you?” His voice is cracking and hitching, but if he stops talking now Orion knows he’ll never start again.

“You’re so brave and you don’t quit when things get tough. I saw how hurt you were after the Fall of Beacon, but you just got right back on that horse.” His baby boy, the most caring and most stubborn of all his children. Strapping the family sword back onto his hip because “Somebody has to, dad.”

Letters where it’s clear his boy isn’t saying half the trouble, but he’s saying enough that they know what trouble is. Hearing about the attack on Haven, a week and a half of terror. Saphron sending word that Jaune made it to Argus.

And then nothing. Nothing until the broadcast from Miss Rose.

Packing in a whirlwind, sending the girls to stay with Saphron. Renting the first available airship to Vacuo and contending with his wife’s motion sickness. By the time they got there, they were met halfway by a near armada.

But no Jaune.

Orion’s hand rests on Jaune’s painted cheek. A child’s hand against the larger-than-life hero his boy grew into when he wasn’t there.

Did he ever tell his son how much he loves him?

“Come back to us,” Orion begs, no longer trying to stem the flow of tears. Why bother? His son isn’t here to see them.

#rwby #jaune arc #papa arc #mine #asks #my writing #freshmiraclecheesecake #healing rust au

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vaguely-concerned · 3 months

Text

Ever since watching The Wire for the first time, my brain has doggedly kept working away at the Especially the lies of it all, and specifically at how much the structure beneath the different stories Garak tells contributes to the overall meaning of what he’s trying to say. While the contradicting narratives of course expertly obscure the factual circumstances of his getting exiled, using them also allows him to tell aspects and facets of the emotional truth I don’t think he ever could have, if he’d simply told the actual story of what happened. (It’s very Varric-core of him honestly.)

The first story — the ‘oh, you think you know me?’ story — says I have done things that would sicken you if you knew any detail of it. It’s clearly meant to scare Bashir away so he’ll leave him to die shamefully in peace already lol. But it’s also one of his (probably much-needed lbr) little lessons to Julian that are so frequent in the beginning, given while Garak still has some hold on himself — “Don’t be so quick to forgive me if you don’t even know what I’ve done; what would you do if this really were the sum total of what I am?” (And Julian seems to surprise him by going ‘Well, exactly the same thing, because no matter who you are I am a doctor. But I sort of take your point.’)

The second story — the letting the orphans go story — says I have failed to smother my soul in its cradle when it was required of me, and I regret that more than anything I’ve done. To my ears this is the one most shot through with active self-loathing too, which is interesting. He’s officially lost the control he’s been clinging to and it’s about to get ugly. His TL;DR is ‘Sentiment is the greatest weakness of all’, even all the way back here. (Which is the one lesson Julian steadfastly refuses to learn, which I think in turn does some serious rearrangement of Garak’s soul over the course of the show haha. Get uno reversed into the process of loving and being loved without shame asshole.) This is also where he builds up to admitting to having any sort of need for companionship or closeness at all and — so much worse — that Julian’s role in his life actually has fulfilled some of that need, and he’s DRIPPING with defensive venom over it b/c well I get it Garak vulnerability is scary it can take a person like that.

(I also feel there’s something honest and forbidden in ‘Suddenly the whole exercise seemed utterly meaningless’. I suspect ‘actually… why the fuck are we even doing this???’ is not a welcome sentiment in an Obsidian Order water cooler environment, no matter what you’re saying it about lmao. The very first seeds of him deconstructing the things he’s been taught about Cardassia and his work might be hinted at here, though they of course take a looong time to come to any real fruition.)

The third story — the ‘Elim was my best friend’ story — says hey, remember that thing you said once, about how sometimes, you have to be loyal to yourself before you can be loyal to anything else? Well. guess what. I couldn’t even be that lmao. It also furthers that thread of being divided from yourself, split, that having ‘Elim’ as a separate person around in all versions of the story brings in. He’s in control of himself again, but he essentially hands his life and soul over to Julian to decide what should be done with them.

I’ve done horrible things and it finally caught up with me, I’m getting what I deserve → I let sentiment master me and the fact that I’m too weak to do what’s needed of me shames me more than the evil I’ve done → I fucked up. I betrayed myself and everything I held to, all for nothing, and I have no one to blame for it but myself. But it’s very nice that you’re here anyway, Doctor. (Wow. I didn’t realize quite how isolated and lonely that last one was before right now. The way Tain has shaped him really has just… locked him completely into himself, huh.) We can also see a movement through from a completely professional context in the first story, to an intensely interpersonal and internal context in the last one — even his fake stories spiral in towards intimacy, which I think is what he longs for here even if he can’t quite like. Touch that without the stories as a buffer yet, it’s clearly like touching a hot stove for him to interact with it too directly.

And you know what I find incredibly interesting the whole way through? Even on his deathbed, where he’s dying from the thing Tain had put in his head, he’s protecting Tain. He puts all the blame for where he is on himself (‘My future was limitless, until I threw it away’), even if he has to employ a strange twisty logic where he’s split himself into two to do it. Don’t get me wrong, Garak has done horrific things all on his own haha, but it’s notable that he almost isolates Tain from that. ‘Tain was the Obsidian Order. Not even the Central Command dared challenge him. And I was his right hand.’ Tain in Garak’s stories is this infallible implacable weirdly distant figure, even now. Indeed, as will make a lot of sense with the revelations further down the line, more than anything it seems the gaze of an abused child desperate for recognition looking up at an idealized (if not in any way nurturing) parent.‘He was retired at that point; he couldn't protect me’, Garak says, as if what he’d need protection from in the first place isn’t Tain himself lmao, as if Tain had no active part in any of this. He never lets blame touch Tain at all. At this stage he would rather consider himself a broken flawed tool than accept that the hands that have wrought and wielded him have ever had any fault in them. AND in the middle of it all, with plausible deniability, on death’s door and knocking meekly to be let in before he must finish the mortifying ordeal of being known and test the even more daunting possibility of being loved, Garak at the same time manages to drop the breadcrumb trail of clues to make it possible for Julian to find Tain if he so chooses and gets in the ‘sons of Tain’ thing too for future dramatic irony purposes. Truly he is the Michelangelo of lying. Every falsehood a multifaceted masterpiece. Elim ‘achieving a state of intertextuality in real life is possible if you work hard and believe in yourself’ Garak. I love him so much.

I think all of this is why “I forgive you. For whatever it is you did,” works so well, because it too works on a structural level. It’s such a deceptively multilayered response — it has the syntax of a joke, in a way, and it is kind of funny even under the circumstances, but delivered with such earnest warmth and fondness. It’s both recognition and acceptance (forgiveness!). It’s saying ‘I finally understand enough of what you’re trying to tell me beneath and through all that, in whatever way you’re capable of, I see you’ and ‘my answer hasn’t changed (bitch)’. The forgiveness Julian offers here is complete — on principle, and out of personal feeling and empathy (only one of which Garak deigns to respond to during the second story, where he calls it ‘smug Federation sympathy’, placing it more completely on the principle side than it probably is. ‘Dude you’re my friend please don’t just lie down and die in a completely avoidable way on me, who else is going to not only tolerate but actually gleefully enjoy me being annoying as fuck over lunch’ seems to be the subtext that’s a lot harder to acknowledge and invite in for both of them. And yet Tain seems perfectly clear on the fact that Julian is Garak’s friend, which, y’know. Must be fun living with the knowledge that Tain has eyes everywhere looming over you every day haha guess you’d just have to tune that out.)

Most of all — ’Don’t give up on me now, Doctor’... and he didn’t! He didn’t. Augh. Ow.

#garashir #elim garak #julian bashir #star trek ds9 #ds9 #star trek #ds9 meta #S2EP22 The Wire #alternate title: baby's first brush with unconditional love through unreliable narration lol #I'm not sure I got to say everything I want to in this/found the exact right words in places or hit all the nuances #but god help me I so desperately need this out of my brain to free up some disc space so go forth little meta haha be free #I'm sure I'll come back to you in time #meta #enabran tain #(derogatory)

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steddieas-shegoes · 5 months

Text

more than everything else

For @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt ‘proposal’ wc: 999 rated m cw: suggestive language | tags: domestic fluff, sappy and romantic

💍💍💍💍💍💍💍💍💍💍💍💍💍

“Steve! Freezer’s working again!” Eddie yelled from his spot on the floor behind their previously defunct freezer.

Eddie insisted he could fix it himself, hence the hours he’d spent on the floor with tools that weren’t doing anything and a lip bitten until it bled.

“Told you if you took your shirt off it would work faster,” Steve said from the doorway, hands on his hips as he took in the sight of Eddie being half naked.

Sweat dripping down his chest.

A bruise forming on his side where he’d dropped a wrench on himself earlier.

His newest tattoo peeling because he’d forgotten to put Vaseline on it earlier.

“I always listen to you, sweetheart,” Eddie smirked as he stood up. “You got any plans later?”

“I actually do remember something on the calendar.”

Eddie walked over to him, covered Steve’s hands with his own and rocked him side to side. “Damn.”

“Why? You wanna make plans?” Steve raised a brow.

“I thought I could get a reward for all my hard work today,” Eddie pouted his bottom lip out, eyes widening as he leaned further into Steve’s space. “Maybe in the bedroom?”

“Reward? For fixing the freezer that you broke?”

“I seem to remember someone saying that the freezer was just ‘old’ and that this ‘could’ve happened to anyone.’ Or am I mistaken?” Eddie let go of Steve’s hands but stayed close to him.

“I’m not sure who said that. I do remember someone saying that if you turned it down too far for too long, it would break, though. Maybe you can recall who said that?” Steve leaned in to peck his lips softly, teasing just a little with his fingers along the waistband of Eddie’s pants. “Seems like a smart guy.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well. At least the guy who broke it could fix it.”

“That’s right, baby.” Steve backed away. “Now. I’ve got baked chicken spaghetti in the oven for dinner and I made cookies earlier if you-“

“Marry me.”

Steve froze, his eyes widened.

Maybe Eddie could’ve been more eloquent, more romantic.

Shit, maybe he could do that still.

He reached for Steve’s hands, smiling softly at him as his eyes darted between Eddie’s, searching for him to say that it was a joke.

“I’m serious.” Eddie kissed his forehead before continuing. “You think I survived the hell of ‘86 to not end up with Steve Harrington? You think I’ve spent nearly every day of the last six years trying to be the best partner you could ask for, the kind you deserve? You make me wanna be more than everything else.”

“What-“

Eddie shushed him with a kiss. “When I was little, like barely old enough to ride a bike, my mom brought me to a flower shop. She said I had to pick a nice flower for my teacher so she knew I was a sweet kid. I picked a daffodil. She laughed and said ‘you know the love of my life always brought my a daffodil’ and when I asked why dad didn’t bring them to her anymore she said ‘he never did.’ And as I got older I realized what that meant. I never could ask her about it, but I eventually asked Wayne. He said-“ Eddie sniffed, biting his lip trying not to cry. “He said sometimes the love you get isn’t what makes you feel better than everything else, but that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to feel more than everything else. And I still didn’t quite get it, ya know? Made no damn sense to me when I was 13. Kinda thought Wayne was high.” Steve laughed, Eddie smiled. “But then I saw you in the cafeteria one day, and I saw the way you held the door open for some of the band kids even though Tommy was teasing you for it. And I saw how much you did for me at my worst, even before you had a reason to, before you knew it would be worth more. I see how you love, and how you keep loving, even when some people may not deserve it. I feel how much you are, how much more you can still be. And how much I wanna be more to be worthy of you. I don’t have much, you know I don’t, but you love me anyway. And you make me wanna be more.”

Steve’s tears were falling rapidly, a sob escaping at the end of Eddie’s words as he fell forward, his tears soaking Eddie’s shirt instantly.

“You’re enough for me,” he finally managed to say against Eddie’s neck. “You’ve always been enough for me. I don’t want more. I just want you.”

“I know, sweet love. I know.” Eddie’s arms tightened around him. “You think you could marry me?”

“Eds. I would marry you every day if we could.” Steve sniffed as he pulled away. “We can’t really do it, though.”

“Maybe not. But we can wear rings, tell everyone. I can call you my husband around the people who love us.”

That was a hell of a thought.

Husbands.

“You’re sure you want that?”

“Of course I am. Who else is gonna fix your freezer when it breaks?”

“Maybe you could try not to break it in the first place.” Steve smacked his shoulder. He kissed him slowly, tongue brushing against his bottom lip but not looking for more. “But I guess it would be nice to have someone around all the time to fix the stuff he breaks.”

“Hey!”

“I love you.”

It was that simple.

“So. My reward?”

“My hand in marriage.” Steve turned away and looked over his shoulder. “And maybe my hand in other places. If you hurry up and shower.”

“I’ll be done in five. Be naked on the kitchen table-“

“Eddie, not-“

“The kitchen table!”

Steve rolled his eyes but threw his shirt to the floor and winked before making his way to the kitchen. “Five minutes!”

#steddieholidaydrabbles #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #proposal

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sophies-junkyard · 9 months

Text

NOBODY ASKED but… Obviously Simon’s arc in adventure time solidified the series as one of greatest of all time (and I’m so hyped for this ice king sadness renaissance) but now I’m thinking of OTHER Adventure Time moments that rewired my brain as a kid. In no particular order:

1. “Once the strong guys got it how they liked it they said ‘this is fair now. This is the law.’ Once they were winning they changed the rules”. They really had the cartoon dog say that on tv in 2014.

2. “People get built different. We don’t have to understand it, we just gotta respect it”

3. The entirety of All The Little People. That shit was absolutely nuts for a kids show but also like…. I can’t articulate the lesson I just know there was one and it haunted me. The danger of the human ego. Hubris. Irreverence. Don’t play god bro.

4. Lady and Peebles. When PB ripped Ricardio’s leg off and bashed his skull in with it. And it was so hardcore they edited it out of the episode. Bro. I remember watching that after school one day and how my jaw just DROPPED at a PRINCESS being so brutal. They let her be so fucking angry and that was a game changer.

5. [Finn, about a horrific memory] “that one’s going in the vault. Aaaaaaaaaandd. It’s gone.” I quote that CONSTANTLY. It’s a great way to bring levity to a bad situation, but also forces me to go “hey wait a sec that’s not gonna work forever”. Things don’t stay in the vault.

6. Puhoy. He lived an entire life in that pillow world. He had kids. And then it’s just gone like a dream.

7. The deer. It was probably my first real introduction to horror. The hand wiggle. You all know exactly what I’m referencing. Were the candy people stuck in that well for 6 months???

8. What Was Missing!! Obviously now because it foreshadowed (and confirmed past) Bubbline, but back then just because it was so good??? IMO, this is the episode that defined WHO our main cast was, and how their relationships needed to grow for them to be content. It set up the next 6 years of the show! Plus it gave us 2 absolute BANGERS. Ugh i rewatched that recording so many times it wasn’t even funny.

9. Ghost Princess. Really just for the line where he sounds like he’s gonna shit his pants remembering his death and then in a clear narrator voice he’s like “I was a broken man.”

10. The pajama war episode. Now I’m doing this from memory so I could be wrong, but I think this really marks the start of Finn growing up. “I’ve really enjoyed just… hanging out with you.” The ability to start over with someone you’ve got complicated history with. The kindness. The growth from both of them!! It’s a direct parallel of episode 1 but their tones couldn’t be more different and I love it.

11. The slow and horrifying realization that The Mushroom War was nuclear Armageddon. Mushroom clouds. That went so far over my head as a kid even though they reference it constantly. It finally clicked during “I remember you”. Which I am NOT gonna go into because holy fuck that’s like 18 posts on its own.

12. Goliad! A child mirroring EVERYTHING they see, for better or worse. Seeing Jake in a bad moment screaming at the kids and goliad absorbing that behavior. Seeing she can use fear to control people. Also PB was Fucking Crazy! Her line “I’m not gonna live forever… I would if I could” is even more unhinged when we learn (like years later) that she’s already 900 years old. But she does physically age so I guess there’s that. The Suitor also falls into this category of episodes.

Ok getting into some of the more talked about moments

1. OK I LIED I have to talk about I remember you. I was 11 years old. I turned on the new adventure time episode like usual. 10 minutes later I was grappling with a grief I had never imagined before. Absolutely BAWLING not just for Simon and Marceline (the PLOT), but for what it showed me. The reality that every kid tries not to think about: your loved ones will leave you someday, even if they don’t want to. It’s an episode that becomes more powerful with every year I get older. To get a bit personal, dementia has completely taken my grandparents from me. I’ve seen sides of my grandfather that should never have existed, and I must constantly forgive him for what he does… now that he doesn’t remember me. And someday it’ll be my parents. That’s just the way of the world, ya know? Anyways, I remember my mom got home right as the credits were rolling and we had a long talk about keeping people alive with memory, mortality, and how the future was far away and we should decide on dinner lmao.

2. The Hall of Egress. I was almost 15. Life was changing. I was changing, and it was strange and frightening. That feeling where you know you’re losing your childhood but you just want to cling to it. Follow the same old familiar path, stick with what’s comfortable. But life doesn’t work that way. It took me years to really understand this episode and it’s symbolism. Honestly I still don’t think I could fully explain it. It’s like. How do I put this. I was so glad to be in the target age group in that moment. I was so glad that something I was growing up with was assuring me “you’re changing, but we’re changing too”. And isn’t that the theme of adventure time? Everything stays, but it still changes.

3. The absolute horror of Ferns existence. He’s Finn, but he’s wrong and warped. All those memories of the people he loves and they can’t stand to be in the same room as him.

4. Susan Strong. The introduction of a RUNNING PLOT. The show up to that point had really been so goofy and so monster of the week. I think the only really plot heavy episode before this one was It Came From the Nightosphere? And then suddenly they call into question the fact that Finn really is the ONLY HUMAN in all of OOO. And then… is he? It was SUCH a departure from the usual tone. Ending that episode with him reaching below her hat and gasping in shock, but never telling the audience what he found. And then she’s just gone. Which leads us to Islands!

5. Min and Marty. Second saddest episode in the entirety of adventure time, made worse because you know exactly how this family is gonna end up. There’s SO MUCH to dissect about Martins behavior in the series. A reformed con artist receives a traumatic brain injury while attempting to save his son. They’re both lost at sea, and he never looks for him. Was it the emotional trauma? Was it the physical damage? Meanwhile a mother loses her husband and her child in a single night and never EVER learns why. Nobody but Martin knows what happened that night. Also Finns fear of the ocean from season 1 is finally explained. 7 years of ignoring Finns origins and then they throw you THIS??? Watching it live was unreal.

Anyways I’m sure I’ll think of more. I might add on to this later for my own sake lmao, but I’d love to hear other peoples formative moments, quotes, episodes, etc. I really just needed to dump this information out of my brain so I can get on with my week.

#If you see this you’re obligated to comment an adventure time moment that lives rent free in your head #or don’t it’s your life babe #I have nobody in my life who has watched adventure time and therefore I must ramble here to myself #adventure time #princess bubblegum #marceline #ice king #finn the human #fern #Fionna and cake #this is my life #bubbline

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escapingrealtiylovinginsanity · 4 months

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Sonny Carisi: Tears For A Good Man

I was writing a Nick Amaro story. This popped into my head, and it wouldn’t let go. My first attempt at another one of my favorite SVU men Carisi. I was nervous to write him, but I had so much fun with it. Someone has to tell me if I hit his character right.

Your mind is in a whirlwind. You have no idea how you’ve come to be at this spot in your life. It doesn’t feel real. Your life wasn’t like this. Good things just didn’t happen to you like this. So, you just watched the scene play out in front of you through misty eyes. Time had slowed, and words were taking longer to process adding to the surreal state.

Sonny didn’t notice as he pulled Chinese food boxes from a paper bag and set them on your desk. He was chatting animally, about how he wasn’t sure if you were still trying to cut back on carbs, and that you really didn’t need to. He had been craving Chinese and he thought you should eat some too. He honestly liked his woman with meat on their bones, curves, he was Italian after all. But he had gotten you a salad too.

You had been the one complaining to him last week that since you had started seeing him two months ago you had gained almost ten pounds and now your pants were tight. Sonny was an amazing cook and he loved to feed you. You loved to eat his cooking, but he couldn’t really be okay with you gaining weight, could he? No man was like that. They were visual, they wanted their woman to look like they had just walked off the runway impossibly small. It had been a hard pill to swallow as you had started dating in high school. As you had gotten older it hadn’t gotten better. Men had a way of giving women body issues.

“I got you a Coke before I remembered that you're giving up pop too. So, I got you a Raspberry Lemonade instead.” He was setting the drinks on the desk as he spoke, “Then I remembered how much sugar it had and got you water. I got tell you though doll, a salad and water doesn’t sound like much of a meal to me.” There was a twinge of exasperation in his voice.

You feel tears start to roll down your face. Sonny had only texted you an hour beforehand to see if you had time for a quick lunch. You had expected to just meet him somewhere, you didn’t have a lot of time but enough to sit down and eat. You hadn't expected him to come over with a feast of Chinese food for the both of you, a salad if you decided you wanted to continue your healthy eating, and three different drinks because honestly who did that? You would blame the tears on PMS because in what world does a girl start crying because her boyfriend is being nice and respectful to her.

When Sonny turns and sees your tears, he cuts off midsentence concern written all over his face. “Hey, hey, hey, what's wrong sweetheart?” You can’t say anything emotions bubbling up through your stomach. “Did I do something wrong? I didn’t mean to.” You roll your eyes at yourself for being stupid, not him. When Sonny sees it, he doesn’t interpret it that way. He reaches for you putting a hand on your shoulder. His voice lowered to almost a whisper, “Is it because I brought that salad? Honey, I don’t want you to eat that. I was just,” He groaned bringing his other hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I was just trying to be respectful of your decisions. In hindsight, I can see how it looks bad though.” His voice is tense and then changes to a more upbeat problem-solving tone, “I’ll just go get you something different. Anything you want, just tell me.”

You shake your head at the absolute absurdity of this situation. You finally find your voice, “Sonny please, stop.” He pauses near the closed door of your office. “It’s not the salad. I-I'm just being stupid.” He walked back up to you, caressing your tearstained cheek and wiping at the stray tears with his thumb. Sonny had always been a problem solver, so his mind went to the next possible problem.

“Am I moving too fast again?” That was something you had told Sonny. It had been in a serious conversation right as you agreed to start a relationship where you had admitted that his confidence and speed of the relationship scared your jaded fragile heart. You had admitted none of your relationships had lasted over six months and that you were nervous about ruining the good thing that the two of you had. “I’m trying to keep it slow baby, but it’s something new to me. I didn’t think lunch would be a big deal. I mean we have before-” Your lower lip trembled as you saw the frustration in his face. You were forcing your insecurity onto him.

“No Sonny, you're not.” You wrap your hands around his shoulders pulling him tightly to you, he is stunned for a minute before returning the embrace heartily rubbing you back comfortingly. “Thank you,” You whisper in his ear squeezing him tighter.

“Um, I-I'm not going to lie doll, I’m coming up empty on this one.” One of his hands is still rubbing your back, the other twisted into your hair. Your next words make the tension fall from his shoulders as he kisses your head before tucking it back under his chin.

“Thank you, for showing me what a good man is really like.”

I know it was short, but this was just to get my feet wet. I love Sonny but I’ve never written a character like him before. I hope everyone finds their Carisi. If you haven’t, you're in good company. Love you guys xoxo

#svu #law and order svu #law and order special victims unit #sonny carisi #dominick carisi #carisi #sonny carisi imagine #sonny carisi x reader #sonny carisi x you #imgaine

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hornystiel · 1 year

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chipped coin

1,6k, mature (i guess), early seasons destiel

so jackles and ida @chapeldean reminded me about the whole 'dean in cas' coat' thing and i wrote this in one go.

Dean’s rummaging in the pockets of the trench coat he’s currently borrowing from Cas in chance to find something like, you know, change, like what normal people are carrying with them in their pockets.

Cas appears to be some kind of bird who likes shiny things, because his pockets have everything but the money Dean needs to buy himself a can of soda at 3 am from the vending machine outside of their motel room. Their room.

Jesus, when did it become two rooms and not for Dean and Sam even, but for Dean and Cas, and Sam. Well, it’s not always like that, sometimes they still stay in one room because everything's packed and they don’t have any spare money or a working credit card with them. Except why the fuck Cas even needs to stay with them at night? And sleep in Dean’s bed. He’s a fucking angel, he doesn’t even need sleep.

Not that Dean minds. Not really.

Shiny rocks, a piece of glass (not sharp, thankfully), a cap from a beer Dean likes and tried to give to Cas a few times, some kind of a keychain in the shape of a cat? It’s cute though. Still no money.

Dean’s getting cold because he only slipped into Cas’ coat and currently wears only that, boots, and his batman boxers he managed to win from under Cas who was blissfully zoned out after fucking him into the creaky bed they share today. But once Dean took the coat and put it on, the look on Cas’ face became nothing but predatory. Dean’s sure if he lingered for a bit before leaving - they’d be having round two right now.

Dean’s ass is still sensitive and he still feels, well, Cas’ come leaking out of him a bit. That should really be very gross, Dean’s sure he should feel gross.

He doesn’t and that’s kind of concerning.

He touches the bite mark on his neck and feels his cheeks heating up, even in the chilly parking lot.

Castiel was intense the minute he appeared in Dean’s life, but Dean didn’t really think he would be so into marking him in every way possible. Although, the handprint on his shoulder should have given him some ideas. Dean coughs a little, trying to will his brain to stop translating the direct feed of Cas sucking hickeys on his hips half an hour before.

Right. He’s still thirsty, that was the reason he left the room in the first place. Not to contemplate.

They are just fucking. Just fucking, just sharing a room, just talking for hours about everything and nothing, just grabbing a bite in shitty diners when Cas pops up out of nowhere right when Dean thinks it would be nice to make him try this new weird-looking pie and see that adorable frown make an appearance again, the apocalypse fuckery hanging somewhere in the background for once.

Dean digs faster, in an attempt to overrun his own thoughts. How deep are those pockets? Finally something circle-shaped is in his hands and he brings it to the neon light to the left of him to see what it is.

It’s the coin, a piece of it chipped a little, a tiny hole piercing it close to the ridge.

Dean remembers this coin.

He was boredly playing with all the change he had on him during their pitstop in one of the bars on their way to another state, Cas sitting on the opposite end of a small booth, looking ragged. Rebel angels have tough days.

Dean noticed this coin and said Hey, look. This one is like you. Castiel squinted at the coin and mumbled Useless and broken? Dean huffed and went Not like the others and still kicking.

He placed it in Cas’ hand and said that this one is for good luck. Castiel frowned but took it.

Dean thought he threw it away or lost it a long time ago. But it’s still here. In Dean’s palm again. An angel who wields the destinies of the whole civilisations is carrying a chipped coin for good luck given to him by a hick human.

Suddenly he isn’t really thirsty anymore.

He puts everything back into the pockets and quickly goes back to their room.

Cas is still sprawled on the bed (more and more human things in his arsenal, one day he’ll use this arsenal of adorable/annoying lethal quirks to kill Dean dead), but once Dean closes the door, he sits up and looks at Dean.

Forget the pain in his ass, Dean wants to ride this ruffled creature into the sunset of a better future.

“Dean, I advise you to take the coat off, because I’m not sure I can control myself when you are wearing it and I know you must be tired.”

“Aw, for a possessive bastard you’re such a gentleman.” Dean chuckles and without taking the trench coat off climbs on top of Cas’ naked thighs. “What, afraid you’ll fuck the Righteous Man too good he goes out of commission?”

Castiel growls and tugs Dean closer, crushing their mouths together, hands roaming all over his body as if they were separated for a decade instead of thirty minutes tops.

“It’s just…the more traces of me you have on yourself, the more I…” Cas hides his face in Dean’s shoulder, his movements slowing but not losing intensity, a hand crawling to the handprint, hidden under the coat.

“Tell me.” Dean’s lost all of his brain cells on the way here, he wants to hear how much he breaks Cas’ restraint, he wants to know the moment Cas started thinking of this coat as a part of him, he wants to know whether it’s the first time Cas even feels this way and if so he doesn’t want to share this knowledge with anybody else. Man, they are both possessive as fuck.

“I want to keep you to myself,” Cas whispers, unsure, and Dean moans, slowly grinding into him, starting to pull the coat off his shoulders, but Cas stops his hands. Holy fucking shit.

“You were mine to rebuild, mine to bring back to life, mine to protect,” Cas lifts his gaze to Dean and strokes his jaw. “Now you’re mine to love.”

If Dean ever wondered what the perfect example of “fuck around and find out” looks like in real life - well. He’s experiencing it now.

“Shut up,” he tells Cas because he isn’t ready to start fucking crying during the most mindblowing kinky sex he isn’t even fully having right now.

Cas opens his mouth to argue and probably tell him more insane shit that will rewire Dean’s mindframe forever and ever, so he shuts him up himself with kisses. After they’re finally done making out, Cas, the stubborn bastard, opens his mouth again.

“Was what I said wrong? You asked me to tell you.”

“No, it’s just…” How can he even begin to explain everything that’s happening in his brain right now? That Cas just voiced Dean’s own feelings he’s too afraid to even start rationalizing in his own mind? Let alone talking about them. The thought that Cas doesn’t know what he’s talking about doesn’t even cross his mind. He knows they both feel the same and both are greatly inexperienced in just being in love. Cas being an angel, Dean being a hunter and both of them being fuckups.

“You are thinking too much. I don’t require your answer, Dean, that’s not why I said it.” Cas touches his neck, shoulders, stomach, thighs. Feather-light strokes of his long fingers relax Dean gradually. “Just let me take care of you sometimes.”

And Dean lets.

The coat stays on, like a wall, shielding what they have from the rest of the world. Dean imagines that it’s Cas’ wings that envelop him and keep him safe.

They take it slow this time, Dean rocking on top of Cas like he has all the time in the world, Cas’ hands are firm but still gentle, supporting him when he gets tired. He’s so beautiful underneath him, all black unruly hair, dark stubble and eyes only for Dean.

Dean kisses him and kisses and kisses until his lips get numb and scratchy from all the licking and biting.

Cas talks to him, quiet and intimate, and, dammit, Dean ends up crying after all. But he feels so, so much lighter, he feels like there’s light streaming from all the scars on his body.

When they are cleaned up, Dean digs in the pockets of Cas’ coat again, Cas curiously watching from the bed, clad in boxers and Dean's t-shirt. Dean kinda gets why Cas jumped him when he walked in in his trench coat earlier. The t-shirt…is doing things to him too.

He finds the coin again, takes it, threads a thick rope through the tiny hole in it and tugs the ends. Then goes to Cas and motions for him to bow his head.

Cas looks puzzled for a second and then a tiny warm smile spreads on his face when he thumbs the improvised amulet on his neck.

“Just uh. For it not to get lost in your giant ass pockets.” Dean’s scratching his head and fidgeting like a dumbass.

“Thank you Dean,” Cas catches Dean’s restless hands in his and just holds them, “Thank you for taking care of it.”

Thank you for taking care of me.

One day Dean will say it back outloud.

#destiel #destiel fic #destiel ficlet #deancas #deancas fic #deancas ficlet #thisisapaige #spxcekya #becauseofthebowties #usermoogs #anztag #spncreatorsdaily #hashtag writing

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beenbaanbuun · 27 days

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lord huron songs w/ateez

so listen…. i know i said nothing for a few days but sometimes your brain just thinks if something and then you have to do it because if you don’t you’ll forget about it!! anyway… i love lord huron so…

kim hongjoong - louisa

“i’m glad i met you,” hongjoong whispers to you one night as the two of you lie side by side on the hood of his car. whilst you lie watching the stars, distracted by the way the twinkle, hongjoong keeps his gaze firmly on you. the way the moonlight hits your skin has his heart beating at an unnatural rate; if he were to sit here and stare at you for much longer, he doesn’t doubt it would explode in his chest.

“yeah?” you murmur, voice sounding like a wind chime, bringing music and joy to his otherwise stormy life. he sighs, basking in the gentle sound for just a moment. “i’m glad i met you too,” you hum. hongjoong just shakes his head.

you’ll never know how he feels about you because you have a life outside of him. you have brightness and purpose; a job that you love and friends that care for you. you have happiness and passion; he has you and that’s all. monotony and routine take up his day to day, his simple nine to five slowly taking his resolve to pieces bit by bit. ‘good for nothing’ is how he sees himself and that’s how he’ll be remembered. he can only be glad that he met you when he did because now when he passes on in 60 years instead of just soon, loving husband will lie on his gravestone too.

he smiles at you brightly at the thought of you taking him by the hand and pulling him from the grave that he’s already dug for himself. your sweet words and gentle kisses helped him fill in the hole and pat the dirt back down. your tenderness and love spread the seeds and helped the grass grow back over the disturbed ground. it didn’t take long for that grave to become a thing of the past; a well kept secret that hongjoong would never share with another living soul.

he may have died, but your loving raised him.

park seonghwa - la belle fleur sauvage

the beat-up truck that sits outside of seonghwa’s stuffy office block sticks out like a sore thumb, the woman inside of it drawing the attention of each passer by. you don’t belong there, but perhaps that’s why people like to stop and stare. with beauty unmatched and a personality that even the strongest man couldn’t tame, you were nothing more than a fantasy to most of them. not to him, though. not to seonghwa.

he shrugs his suit jacket off and tosses it into the backseat through the open window. it’s lands with a thud, the expensive fabric all crumpled and disheveled. a year ago, the idea of treating his possessions so carelessly would’ve killed him, but as he crawls into the passenger seat, all he can think about is the woman sitting prettily behind the wheel.

“you know, you really don’t have to pick me up from work,” he chuckles as the door shuts behind him. “i appreciate the gesture, my little wildflower, but it’s a little far out of your way, isn’t it?”

you shrug as you start up the ignition, the rattly engine roaring to life.

“when has something being out of reach ever stopped me?” you muse, shifting the truck into gear, “you should know by now that it’ll take a lot more than a little car journey to keep me away from what i want.”

“am i what you want?” he teases, voice lilting prettily as he watches you try to hide your smile. he knows that if you didn’t have to keep your eyes on the road, you’d be sending him a look sharp enough to kill. though, even with that wildness in your eyes, seonghwa can’t think of a more beautiful person on this earth.

jeong yunho - fool for love

there’s a knock at your door, three loud thuds and then silence. a brief look towards the clock tells you that it’s late, but you can’t find it in you to worry. the danger of whoever is behind your door seems to be outweighed by your curiosity; who could possibly be coming to see you at such an hour? you shuffle to the door with determination, pyjama pants dragging along your floorboards as you search for the answer to your question.

your hand finds the doorknob, tugging at it lightly until the door swings open, a dear friend of yours waiting behind it. with a grin on your face, you go to greet him, but before a single word can slip from your tongue, his lips press against yours. it takes you by surprise, and yet somehow you don’t mind it; all it takes is a second or two until you’re kissing him back.

and then he pulls back, chest heaving with each death breath he pulls through his swollen lips. you brush a thumb against them, wiping away your spit.

“i’m leaving,” he says, as if that explains everything, “i’m skipping town and i… i need you with me… please.”

it’s not hard for you to pack your bags. in fact you’d say it’s rather easy. perhaps too much so to say that you’re saying goodbye to everything you’ve ever known. and as yunho loads your belongings into the back seat of his car, you can’t help but smile as you lock your door for the final time.

kang yeosang - until the night turns

you wake up from a dreamless slumber to your boyfriend staring down at you, tears in the corners of his eyes and a rattled expression painted over his pretty features. you frown at him, wearily lifting a hand to wipe away the droplets that had begin to make a path down the side of his face. in your hazy state, there’s not much more you can convince yourself to do; you hope that your wordless comfort is enough to settle him a little.

“i had a bad dream,” he explains, deep voice wavering like a scared child, “the world was ending and i just,” he cuts himself off with a sigh, “it sounds silly but i wanted to spend my last few hours with you.”

you can’t help but give him an amused smile. only he would let such a silly dream get to him this much, your sweet boy. it’s clear he needs comfort, and even with your brain only working at half the speed it should, you’re quick to tug him close and wrap him up in your arms; if it’s comfort he wants, then it’s comfort he’ll get. your lips find his temple.

“we can stay awake until the sun rises,” you offer, voice gravelly with sleep. he hums in appreciation as he huddles in closer.

“but what if the world does end?” his voice is pitiful and weak. you give him one long squeeze with your arms.

“then at least we’ll be together when it does.”

choi san - the man who lives forever

“you know how people say that no one wants to live forever?” san murmurs to you one morning. the two of you have yet to move from his bed, despite the clock on the nightstand letting you know that moon is rapidly approaching. the alarm has rang through the room at least thrice, and yet neither of you have dared to slip from the other’s arms. perhaps its what you both need, a full day of nothing, drowning in one another’s love. “i think i’d want to if you were with me.”

the words make you lift your gaze, your head that rests on his bare chest pivoting until you can see his face. it’s set in stone, expression deadly serious as he declares his intentions to live forever with you by his side. a petite grin finds its way to your lips.

“oh yeah?” you taunt, “and why is that?”

a large hand finds its way to the top of your head, gentle fingers caressing your hair as the man they belong to mulls over his thoughts. his expression twists thoughtfully as he pieces together what he wants to say. he’s handsome like this, not that he isn’t all the time. its just that the way his nose scrunches and his lips purse make you realise just how cute he is. you could fall in love with him all over again.

“because i think i could live in this moment with you until the day i die, and i’d still think it was too short,” his nails scrape against your scalp in a way that makes you instantly relax. you curl up into his body with a hum. “i want to have you in my arms until the sun explodes and takes us with it, and i’m not even sure that’ll be long enough.”

song mingi - moonbeam

“i had a dream about you last night,” mingi hums as you pass him a bowl of popcorn in preparation for your bi-monthly movie marathon. you toss yourself down onto the couch beside him, leaning in close as you grab a fist-full of popcorn and begin to slowly feed yourself. he takes your silence as a gesture for him to continue, popping a piece of the snack between his lips first. “yeah, it started off as a nightmare and then you came along and made it all better.”

you snort at the idea of saving your best friend from whatever demons choose to haunt his nights. you can’t imagine it’s anything too frightening; the big baby gets intimidated by the smallest of things. it really wouldn’t take much for you to be his night in shining armour.

“and how did i make everything better?” your voice is teasing as it comes out, but you genuinely are curious about the answer. you let your gaze meet his, taking no notice of how close his face is to yours. if you thought about it for more than a millisecond, you might have registered the way you can feel his warm breath against your face, or the way his pupils keep flicking between looking you in the eye and looking down at your pink lips.

“you kissed me,” he whispers, and despite your proximity, you barely hear it. “and suddenly everything was okay. all my bad thoughts were gone and it was just… you.”

you look at him with wide eyes, unsure of what to say to his confession. of course, it’s a shock to hear something like that from your best friend, but that’s not to say it’s unwelcome. he chuckles lowly at the way you stare at him.

“oh, don’t look at me like that,” he inches even closer, lips barely grazing against your own, “you can’t tell me you can’t see how much i want to love you.”

jung wooyoung - cursed

wooyoung moans into the kiss that you press against his mouth. hot and mouth wateringly delicious, he can’t seem to get enough of the way your lips feel against him. it’s like you’ve laced your lipgloss with cocaine or something because at this point, it’s an addiction, and try as he might, he can’t seem to kick it.

at this point, he isn’t even sure he wants to.

“holy fuck,” he mumbles against you, opening his eyes for just a brief moment so he can take you in in all your glory. puffy wet lips, swollen from all the lust and passion wooyoung had put into the kiss. a pretty pink tongue darts out to lap at the layer of his spit that glazes them, and he feels his brain go foggy. “i think you’ve cast a spell on me or something, baby. it’s the only reasonable explanation for why i’m so fucking obsessed with you.”

his lips find yours once more, tongue intertwining easily with yours. they play with one another for a short while before he lets you take over, relaxing his jaw a little to let you lazily lick into his mouth. something about you taking him up on his offer of control has him groaning into your mouth. you’re so adorable, even when you’re in charge.

“i’ve not done anything,” you whisper against his open mouth, pulling away ever so slightly to catch your breath, “it’s hardly my fault you took one at me and decided to make it your life’s mission to worship me.”

“shut up, brat,” he chuckles against you, chasing your lips with his own, “i wouldn’t feel the need to worship you if you hadn’t laid some sort of curse on me.”

choi jongho - mine forever

“if you never want to see my face again, i’ll understand,” the weak voice warbles from the other side of your door. it hurts to listen to after the fight you had last night, the wounds still fresh and aching. it’s even worse to listen to when you know your boyfriend doesn’t so easily cry, and yet here he is, sobbing on your doorstep. you swallow the lump in your throat, wiping your own tears away in a desperate attempt to pull yourself together. “just please, give me closure so i know how you feel.”

if you weren’t so upset, the situation would’ve probably made you laugh. it had been less than 24 hours since you walked out of his apartment and walked it back to yours, and yet the poor boy was acting like you’d left him with nothing for weeks. even despite the pain that swims through your veins, you can’t help but find his dramatics adorable, and you find a small smile gracing your lips as you finally move to unlock the door.

he looks a state, red, puffy eyes, hair matted and stuck to his forehead, lips chapped and bloody. you want to hold him in your arms, comfort him through his suffering. then you remember he caused this suffering himself, as well as all the pain that resides in your own chest. you fold your arms in front of you.

“you look like shit,” are the first words to leave your lips. he just stares at you blankly.

“i can’t sleep without you,” is all he says in response.

“you mean you haven’t slept since last night?” he shakes his head, and you feel your heart crack just a little. so much for pulling yourself together.

“i can’t live without you, baby,” he whispers as you invite him into your arms, tucking his face into the crook of your neck, “and i’m too young to die.”

#ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez oneshot #ateez fluff #ateez scenarios #ateez fic #ateez headcanons

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34saveme34 · 4 months

Text

SMG34: The Rot (a fic by yours truly)

image semi related

summary: 3 gets told to come and investigate this thing called "The Rot" in a forest, so him, 4, Meggy, Mario and Boopkins (surprisingly) set out to check it out, although things get a little odd as the Rot's influence gets to our favourite man. Sure wonder what'll happen to him!

word count: 5722

3 wasn’t happy he got roped into this. However he owed this one… he owed this one to Meggy. He hated how the closer he became to 4’s crew they only seemed to able to collect more firt on him. Although he didn't know how she could get her hands on his online activity on such forums, he thought he was better this time at covering his tracks…At least he wasn’t alone, a few others came along, like 4, Boopkins and Mario.

It was… a hike. Through the forest. Meggy had seen strange sightings and wanted to bring along others as well. This worried 3 because he really really didn’t want to break his streaming streak. He had been doing so well, having a schedule and everything and of course as soons as he got on track, someone had to come in and ruin it. This always happened so it didn’t surprise him too much but he was mad about it either way.”

However, Meggy agreed with him that he could stream this, it would be especially cool if they were to find something interesting, as if they were ghost hunters. At least something 3 can look forward to. Things that could make his streaming careers more successful always had an easier time persuading him. And he knew that, he wasn’t happy about it, but it was just a fact of life. Just like how he knew how close he grew to 4. It was hard to deny, he really cared about him. Though sometimes, scratch that, just about all the time, he made it really hard to do so. He didn’t remember a prolonged peaceful time with him. Something always has to happen, with the tension they developed over the years. But honestly, who could blame them for that?

Something that Meggy forgot to do among all things she should’ve done, was ask the others if they’re okay with the livestream. It’s really not the greatest thing to argue about on live.

“I don’t wanna have the pressure of invisible eyes on me while I don’t even know what I’m facing!” 4 whined, he looked a bit scared.

“Finally, I can add more to my smg4 fail compilation, you better not disappoint” 3 giggled, making 4 groan.

“It’s not funny, you know! Also I'm just as capable to embarrass you as well! I know what you are”

“Oh, you bastard? Are you threatening me? Right in front of my viewers?? I’ll get you cancelled on Twitter for this one!”

“Not Twitter, god no, though I bet they would like some things I have a hold of myself, like that search query you did concerning-” 4 smirked at 3, seemingly the 2 were just about to fight before Meggy pulled them apart.

“Okay, guys, that’s enough! Let’s get going”

“Oooooh” Mario pouted, putting down the popcorn he pulled out of nowhere. He loved to watch his guardians fight for such low stakes. There was something special about the ones making him dance like a clown dance for him on their own volition.

“So what are we looking at anyways?” Boopkins asked, looking scared.

“I… can’t say. I think you have to see it yourself to believe it. Although I just like to call it the rot.”

“Th… The rot?” my guy was shaking. Boopkins, what the hell, you just got here.

“Why are you here anyways? No naptime for you?” Mario teased him.

“Umm no… I just wanna try and get braver! So I can be there for my friends even more!”

“Aww, yea yea now let’s get going!” Meggy truly had enough with the banter. But would it be a real live stream if it started smoothly?

They started walking, with Mario and Meggy in the lead, with Boopkins not too far behind them. However 3 and 4 were at the back, not much further but they definitely weren’t as close to Boopkins as he was to Mario and Meggy.

3 turned his camera at 4 which made him frown.

“What, am I that interesting? Am I getting views for you?” 4 whined sarcastically, he didn’t feel like being on a stream right now. Especially since this expedition pulled him away from meme creation. As in his one and true love!

“Well, you might! Just do something embarrassing, that’d definitely work!”

“Like what, tell them about when we were younger I busted you in the toilets with-” 4 got slapped before he could answer.

3 wasn’t having any of it.

“Very mature of you to bring up the past, really, classic SMG4”

“At least I didn’t like, I don’t know, try to kill people”

“Don’t you have a body count higher than zero?”

“You… can’t prove that. Besides I bet you killed more!”

“And that’s in the past, you know? Besides, being an ex villain makes me hotter, just ask my fans”

4 looked so done with 3, especially after he showed his chat filled with overflowing thirsty support for his post villain self. 3 loved the reaction, it was like warming him up from the inside. Although he would like it better if his charisma was more appreciated by his guardian partner.

“Aaah yes, so hot twitch streamer, Super Meme Guardian 3, I could never compare”

3 laughed and looked at his chat then frowned. This surprised 4 a bit, especially since 3 decided to face his camera ahead again, to record where they’re actually walking. 3 sighed, which held 4’s attention longer than it should have.

“What’s up?” 4 asked quietly.

“Not much… just a cringe comment I didn’t like” 3 basically brushed him off. It seemed he didn’t want to go into it so 4 left him to it. It had been hard, but 4 had been trying to pay attention to when he needed to stop. He had been getting to a point where he could tell that he shouldn’t bother 3 further. It became mildly easy as he noticed how much of an open book 3 is. Just push the correct buttons and you get him all wrapped within your grasp. Like to do your bidding and stuff. 4 considered 3 a great ally and he used him a lot as well. Although he still cared about him a lot. Sometimes he wondered if 3 realised that. He just didn’t really know how to be affectionate towards 3. Whenever he tried to be serious about it, it kind of fell apart. Wanting to be kind towards him in hard situations, like when they were stuck in the elevator, yet he was met with hostility. The whole situation reminded him of a cold, snowy day as well. He shook his head hard, he didn’t need that thought right now. 3 looked at him confused, then saw how 4 was looking in the distance, and sadness he forgot to hide still showing. 3 passed his camera to Boopkins for a bit.

“Can you hold this for me for a bit?” 3 reached to Boopkins who took the camera gently with a smile. Since he helped him out with the date with M… Mi… Micheal? What was it again? He felt a bit more tolerable. Not by much though.

“Sure thing!”

Although the camera looked a little funny in his hands, considering how the camera was like third his size.

4 paid attention to this, a bit confused at what 3 was doing. He did find Boopkins struggling to carry the camera a bit funny though.

“So” 3 pulled 4 close by his back, wrapping his arm around him, continuing in a hushed tone “What’s the gloom for? It’s super obvious and it bothers me so that’s why I’m bothering you about it”

4 chuckled.

“I’m glad you care. That’s all I needed actually” 4 showed a genuine smile to 3 which left him speechless. 4 could see he made 3 a bit flustered, maybe a bit more than just a bit…

It’s like he was buffering or something.

“Ugh” 3 pulled away “Your sweetness makes me sick, god damn it… baka”

Slowly Mario turned around, pulling out a tiny rainbow flag.

“This you?” he pointed at the 2.

3 was too shocked to react, 4 threw a loose branch at him which got into his eye. Mario started screaming in his iconic way. Meggy slapped him into a new shape.

“Shhh!!! Don't disturb the wildlife, idiot!”

Mario whined quietly, removing the tiny branch from his eye. Just as he removed it, he basically forgot it was there, as he continued frolicking.

3 finally took his camera back from Boopkins.

“Finally, my arms were starting to get tired!” Boopkins sighed with relief.

Meggy turned to him although still walking.

“I could coach you to get stronger”

The relief quickly flew out of Boopkins, rather replaced with a pale expression.

“I hope I don’t hurt you with this, but I’d rather not if it’s okay”

“Your loss” Meggy shrugged.

As they continued, they started to find traces of the so-called Rot.

“This energy feels familiar” 3 exclaimed.

“Same here…” 4 added, as he exchanged a glance with 3.

“That’s a good thing! Any idea what we could be dealing with then?”

“So…” 4 started “It could be a new meme. Although I… don’t remember ever seeing it before”

“The name rot does fit it though” 3 continued “You think it could do with all the memes people used to make about bogs?”

“That’s a nice thought! Or maybe one of those nature allegory memes that sometimes pop up… most of the time from Tumblr”

“Ah right, Tumblr, this could be one of their creations”

“I thought Tumblr was dead” Meggy looked behind at the 2 as they continued on, seeing more rot on the trees and in the ground. It seemed they were getting closer and closer to the core of it.

“That’s what they all think” 3 and 4 said at the same time, then laughed at how in sync they were.

“What is tumblr?” Mario asked. The others looked at him with a knowing look. He deflated, seeing no one wanted to elaborate.

While the lighthearted banter they got into was nice, 3 couldn't shake off the tension he was feeling. Probably thanks to 4. He didn't like how his mind went for the worst when it came to him. He tried to concentrate on the task on hand, the sooner it was over, the sooner he could escape.

As they continued on, 3 was starting to feel a headache get to him. It was starting to be a bit difficult holding the camera. He tried so hard to be there but it felt like slowly everything was slowing down around him. He looked ahead… then he found himself staring at 4, getting even slower, blurrier, slowly things becoming less and less comprehensive, yet he could still feel in his heart just how worried 4 was. It felt… nice. He was glad 4 cared about him. Then everything went black. At least mostly. He was stuck in a weird state, still lightly aware of his surroundings, as he could feel himself falling over, then being grabbed and held close… Held close…? What for?

He lightly managed to open his eyes and tried to perceive the world around him, although it hurt him. It was difficult, but he figured out he was stuck in 4’s arms. Not exactly somewhere he wished to be while in a state like this. He kind of imagined feeling this sick while being cared for in his bed. Thinking about it… he wouldn’t mind 4 being there then. But this is just… embarrassing… He really hoped the stream wasn’t getting any of this… He already saw that one comment referring to 4 and him in weird ways and he didn’t like that. He felt uncomfortable on 4’s behalf as well. Who knows how hard his fans would tear him apart if they knew that he and 4 need to hold hands to use their meme guardian powers. It made him think about how he would even handle having a relationship like this. Either he would have to hide this person even if he was proud of pulling a bad bitch or have them be on display but risk the parasocial freaks coming in and ruining his dating life. He wasn’t new to the parasocial rodeo at this point, he knew about the sexyman allegations. Though it’s not like he wanted a relationship right now anyways. He liked to joke about getting bitches but he really just did that because he felt humiliated at the thought that he couldn’t pull anyone. He closed his eyes, trying to close out the sight that was 4 carrying him. That’s not to say he was fully against it but he won’t admit that so soon. But as he closed the sight out, he could hear words better.

“Homo…” he could hear Mario start then if he was guessing right, he got slapped since he stopped speaking.

“Well I’m not just gonna drag him by the foot, that would be cruel” he could hear 4 retort at the homosexual allegations.

“Is he gonna be okay?” Meggy asked, concern in her voice. 3 was kind of glad he had friends that cared for him. He wished he could say that without getting embarrassed. He hoped that they knew about it at least a little bit, as much as he could hint. But not too much, their annoying asses didn't deserve to see THAT much of him.

“I think so” 4 said “But he’s definitely not streaming like this, can we turn it off?”

“Well if you insis-” Meggy started.

“Nnnn…nnooooo… ss… stream…” 3 tried to get it out, the words small and weird. But they were heard. He didn’t like ending streams so suddenly. He’d rather die on camera than suddenly end a stream.

He heard 4 chuckle.

“Look at him, even in this state, he cares about his fans”

“How nice of him” Boopkins spoke up.

“I can see said fans are feeling the same way!” Meggy chuckled “It seems a lot of people are interested in what’s up here anyways so… for 3!”

“For 3!” both 4 and Boopkins cheered.

If 3 was fully there, he would be so embarrassed. He’d hate it. He’s starting to like this… as if he’s looking in from the outside, not subject to the actual affection of his friends yet still being the subject of it. Unbeknownst to him, he was smiling about this in 4’s arms, who noticed so. But didn’t dare comment on it. Who knows how his insane fans would treat it. Although he couldn’t just go without letting 3 know, if he could hear him.

“If you only looked this cute while conscious” 4 chuckled into 3’s ear. It sent a jolt through 3’s body, but still not enough to get him out of his state. So it was all still energy, so much, as if continuously zapping his mind. What the FUCK did 4 just say?? HIM??? CUTE??? Well, he was handsome but CUTE??? HIM??? No way, 4 didn’t know what he’s talking about. Yet the words rang in his mind, foreverly so, not leaving him. Like a forever moment. Feeling obsessed with it, even if he didn’t want to be. It made him feel so warm. Like he could feel it physically now. He heard 4 chuckle, unsure where to put it, it only made him feel weirder. It was like 4 had his fingers wrapped around him in a mental sense as well, whatever he would say, he wouldn’t be able to escape. It was… weird feeling this vulnerable.

Slowly he stirred more in 4’s arms. Still remaining as calm as he could manage, to not disturb 4 too much. He was actually kind of comfortable. Not like he’ll say that out loud. Maybe he’ll write it down in his notebook later. It had been a great source of coping for him. Writing about the things that made him feel feelings usually made them easier to digest. He looked up at 4 with half lidded eyes, he seemed so… focused. He noticed then 4 looking down, which surprised him a bit. 4 smiled, then looked to the side.

“It seems he looks a bit better now”

“That’s good! Makes me feel less bad about how we keep on going”

“We should stop for a bit though… my arms are standing to get tired… he isn’t exactly light”

“...Bitch” 3 muttered, first coherent thing he said since falling over like a log.

Everyone kind of laughed about it.

“Mario agrees!” Mario stopped and immediately whipped out his pocket spaghetti. Who knows how long that’s been there. He seemed to be happy to eat it either ways.

They all laid down for a bit, 4 laying 3 down as well then sat beside him. He really just decided to sit beside him. Maybe he really did care.

3 reached up, as best as he could as he regained his strength, reaching to 4. 4 looked at his hand a bit confused, then decided to hold it, not really understanding what 3 wanted.

“Pfft… sure whatever”

“What?” 4 asked but 3 only rolled his eyes in response.

“Guess you don’t need it then”

4 took his hand away. 3’s smile lightly faded away but not too much. He didn’t want it to be too obvious that he was disappointed about that. He wasn’t even sure how to explain that he was disappointed. He just knew that it meant a lot to him that 4 did that. He never imagined he would get so weak about him. Weak about whatever 4 directed his way.

Let it be his insults or the looks he could give him when he showed he cared. He wanted to have him whole, with all those silly little intricacies that made him who he was, even his cringe memes. Never did he care so much for someone in his life… What… What did he mean by this? Oh… OH… no… not here… not now… why couldn’t this happen at like- a more appropriate place- somewhere without 4 preferably- Well, the world is cruel to him so now he had to keep himself together in this damned situation.

He slowly sat up, not really looking at anything. He slowly breathed in, then out, slowly calming the nerves that scream about what’s boiling underneath his skin, his mind. His feelings were. Restless.

“Are you okay, 3?” Meggy turned to him, with a soft, understanding smile.

“So-so… could be better” 3 smiled back, which surprised Meggy a little.

“Do you remember what happened?”

“Not much… But…” 3 took all the strength in himself, all his emotional strength “I think the rot feeds on… frustration? I think, or anger.. I remember feeling sort of angry before… since a certain someone here can be such a piece of ass here” 3 said as he directly looked at 4.

“Did you hear what I say to you? If so, right now I’m really meaning it”

“Asshole…”

“What did you say to him?” Meggy asked, a bit suspiciously.

“That’s between us” 4 said, as he got up “We gotta keep moving anyways, I can feel how close we are”

“Yeah… let’s” 3 slowly got up, stretching his back, being held for a bit there made his back feel like a quirky little snake. The slightly loud pop from his back made Boopkins jump.

Mario looked at the 2, a big big grin that kept getting bigger.

“Hmmmmmmmmmmmm” he teased the 2, just even with his menacing Mario gaze.

3 and 4 exchanged glances.

“Home of sexual” Mario claimed, with the same big grin. 4 was ready to throw hands but 3 just got up and started walking. This shocked both but especially Meggy.

“I have no power or need to feel angry right now let’s just go, I’ll feed him bombs when we get back”

“Feeding time?” Mario looked on with great interest, his selective hearing deciding to focus right on the word ‘feed’ “Does Mario get his spaghetti?”

“Later, red, we have a mission on our hands right now”

As Meggy spoke, 3 realised his camera was in Meggy’s hand. He quickly took it back, Meggy barely realising it was taken from her.

“What’s up, chat! I live! I could never leave a stream interrupted, all of you know I’m stronger than that so I’m here again!” he marched on, with a big smile on his face. This surprised the others, especially 4 and Meggy as they looked at each other then followed after him, with Boopkins hurrying after them with his short legs. Mario shrugged, quickly forgetting about food as he followed behind them a bit delayed.

“Oh thanks for the bits! As for your question, we’re looking into something geniusly named the rot!.... ‘Is it really named the rot?’ It wasn’t named by me, I would’ve given it a better name, like forest meme fungus parasite or something like that”

“That’s actually kind of lame” 4 said.

“I agree actually” Meggy added.

Boopkins looked too concerned to end up on either sides.

“Whatever… ‘How far is it? We’ve been here for a while’ I think we’re getting closer! As you can see the trees look much different here” he put his hand against a tree, which leaked weird residue “AAAAH EWW EWW WHAT THE HELL”

4, Meggy and Mario laugh at him.

“Stuuu-piiiid” Mario keeps laughing.

3’s eyes twitched, but he was keeping his cool.

“And I think this isn’t even the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen him do!” 4 said.

Oh 4. His sweet prince. He’s done it. Truly. 3 slowly looked at him, 4 started to look scared. 3 ran at him, camera still in his hand, getting the weird liquid on him as well.

4 looked offended to hell, heaven and purgatory, he was NOT letting this go so easily. He grabbed a bit of rot as well and threw it at 3.

Mario clapped, the clowns are dancing again. Boopkins hid behind Meggy, who didn’t look very satisfied with Mario.

But, oh, if she didn’t pay attention to him, she would have realised that the ground was moving, but she only noticed when it was already pulling 3 and 4 down, and fast at that.

“4!!! 3!!!” Meggy cried out, trying to reach into the rot to no avail. It seemed she couldn’t get into it like those 2 managed to.

“Oh nooo” Mario genuinely got sad as he got down beside Meggy.

“What do we do now?” Boopkins went there last, although just as concerned as the other 2.

“I don’t know… the best we can do is… I think we should go back and get some tools! Maybe we can dig them out. Hopefully before the sun sets” Meggy proposed her idea, the other 2 nodded as they got up and started to run back, although not too fast to preserve stamina. They’re gonna NEED it.

3 and 4 laid there, underneath for a bit. It took a while until one woke up, which was 4. They were on top of each other, which he wasn’t too thrilled about. Though, to his horror, he couldn’t get up. He was stuck to him like this. At least it was just by their waists mainly… Who was he kidding, that’s probably the worst place to get stuck at, hands were way better, he’d rather have a week of that than this! He looked around, seeing that the place wasn’t big anyways. It was kind of dark, only illuminated by the rot’s faint blueish-green glow. What a weird way for a meme to manifest. At this point he was pretty sure it was a meme, although a powerful one. It seemed it had a strong staying power, one he hadn’t seen in a while. Another sign that it could be from Tumblr. He never liked Tumblr memes, they were always weird and hard to deal with. Since 3 was still not awake, 4 couldn’t channel the meme away either, 3 had to be at least awake for that. At least it was calm. He decided to pay attention to 3’s face. Just like before, he looked so peaceful. Although he could appreciate the energy he brought, he sometimes wished 3 could direct energy like this at him. He smiled, glad that he could get something like this to happen, although he’s still not very happy about the situation. As 4 looked around again, he noticed the lightly damaged camera, directed at them, still on.

“Ah” was all that was left in his mouth, as he went a bit pale, knowing what they were doing was broadcasted to many people. He got on 4s, in an uncomfortable way, considering he was still stuck to 3 and reached for the camera.

“Ummm… Hello, SMG3 viewers” 4 started awkwardly “I’d like to say thank you for all of you being here. Especially thank you for motivating us to go forward. I think I know what we will have to do with this so-called rot… But I will end stream here, it’s been a good run, thank you all for coming” 4 smiled at the camera and waved before turning the broadcast off.

That was when 3 stirred.

“Nggghh…” 3 looked up, having to blink a few times to see what the fuck is going on, kind of not believing his eyes, as he could feel his ears and face heat up.

“OI WHAT THE FUCK DUDE” 3 flipped, literally flipped, thinking they could separate but instead they fell over together, now with 3 on top, and their faces getting a bit too close from the velocity. 3 got distracted for a second. 4 took a bit before he returned the favour, as 3’s careless outburst only served to make him angrier. And so they got into a cycle of throwing each other but the bond on them still not budging.

“Why must you be such a bitch,,” 4 whined as 3 tried his best pulling 4 off of his waist, but he only bounced back, their foreheads meeting. which made both yelp in pain.

“FUCKING CHRIST” 3 cried out.

“DUMBASS” 4 cried back at him.

3 tried to calm himself down as he looked around, seeing his camera which was turned off.

“Did… the camera break?”

“No… I” 4 realised he might not live “turned off the stream” his words were small.

3 slowly turned to him, his face the reckoning, judgement upon him, all in a pair of eyes that belong to his meme guardian partner.

“You… did… what?” 3 leaned closer to him, it would’ve been an understatement to call his vibes menacing.

“I-I” 4 trembled under 3’s gaze.

“You don’t SIMPLY end my stream”

“I said goodbye!!”

“And?”

“I thanked them for being here!!”

“...”

4 looked scared as hell, his puppy eyes coming out, begging for forgiveness. Those eyes hit 3 square in the heart.

“Shit.. whatever I guess, I’ll let you be about it”

“Oh, thank you thank you” 4 hugged him, 3 could only roll his eyes.

3 tried to get up again, and maybe stand up right if everything goes well. And as he did, it seemed to be really hard for their faces to not be close. It was starting to frustrate both of them. Slowly, they both stood on their feet, although still stuck to each other. That’s when 4 remembered.

“Hey, wait, we can channel the rot away! You can feel its meme energy too, right?”

3 looked up, then nodded. 4 grabbed both of 3’s hands. 3 was sort of distracted by the whole thing. He didn’t like being so close so soon. He wanted to have at least a little bit of time to process his feelings. 4 noticed that, as they weren’t as efficient as they were supposed to be.

“3!! What’s with you??”

That seemed to snap 3 out of it, who looked to the side, a powerless sigh escaping his lips.

“I can’t explain”

“WHAT do you mean you can’t explain?? Let’s just get out here!! Don’t you want to get out??”

“I-... of course I do, you think I’m stupid?”

“Well, you’re looking very stupid right now, not channeling yourself!”

“Don’t you… don’t you see…? We’re just… a bit too close for my taste” 3 looked down, feeling ashamed. He didn’t want it to be true but it was, tears welling up in his eyes.

“What do you-”

“IT- IT WOULD BE SO MUCH EASIER IF YOU WEREN’T RIGHT IN MY FACE” 3 cried, tears rolling down his face “YOU think I WANT TO BE HERE?? I’D RATHER BE ETERNITIES AWAY FROM YOU RIGHT NOW” those tears just wouldn’t stop.

“THEN FUCKING CHANNEL, YOU BITCH, THEN YOU CAN GO”

“FUCK YOU”

“WHAT”

4 let go of 3’s hands, now pissed himself, both of them pissed in fact.

“BITCH” 3 added.

“WHY YOU-”

And they started throwing hands, fighting again. Which fell to an abrupt end, as 4 held 3 against a wall of rot.

“WHY CAN’T YOU JUST CHANNEL”

“I FEEL STUPID WITH YOU”

“YOU’RE CALLING ME STUPID?” 4 leaned closer to 3, who seemed to feel more ashamed than ever, as if he said something sacred, as if he sinned.

“Ju… just sh-.. shut up already, fuck..” 3 could feel his heart twist. 3 looked at 4 slowly, cautiously sadness pouring out from his eyes. He couldn’t hide it. He felt ashamed but he knew no other way out.

“3… 3 I’m…” 4 returned to a softer gaze.

“Are you stupid? I said…” once again, 3’s heart, it couldn’t take it “I feel stupid WITH you”

“Wh… What?”

“You really are stupid…”

4 didn’t look amused.

“So you called me stupid anyways”

“YOU-” 3 clenched his fists, trying his best to hold back from screaming at 4 again “You just… don’t seem to understand. And… I don’t know if I’m… shameless enough to just tell you everything…”

4 could feel something in his heart now as well. He didn’t understand what was going on.

“I’m… sorry”

“Oh? What did you say?”

“I said that I’m sorry…”

“Can you say it again?” 3 looked at him with a little evil grin, although still strained from the emotions he was feeling. It was obvious to 4. He gave him the stink eye then moved one of his hands to pet 3’s head.

“Can a man not be sorry?” 4 joked, which kind of worked, although the head pat flustered 3 a bit.

“Shut the fuck up”

“Sheesh”

3 giggled, seemingly calming down a bit.

“Let’s just get this over with, 3? You did say you wanted to be gone from me” although 4 would usually hide his feelings better, he sounded more sad than he should have.

3 couldn’t help but smile.

“So you DO care, huh?”

“I- of course I do, you’re one of my bestest friends!! I wouldn’t wanna stay away from you”

“Right right…friends… “ 3 looked down, he couldn’t bring himself to be angry anymore. He was tired.

“Wait you- you don’t mean…” 4 stared at 3, who wouldn’t dare look back. Although, it was hard avoiding him when they’re stuck by the waist.

Suddenly a lot of things started to make sense to 4. Memories flashing by him, as he looked at 3, looking back at everything. The things he would feel with him. More than just the meme energy they could channel together, there was way more there, more than he ever realised. They way he just… my god… The realisation hit him like a car crash.

“I’m in love with you??” 4 spoke confused, 3 looked at him confused.

3 couldn’t bring himself to words, he could only look back at 4. 3 knew his heart was flying sky high though, with his face feeling god awfully warm too. After the confusion wore off, 4 smiled, kind of coming to peace with it. Skipping a few stages of grief there, huh?

“Let’s get out of here, 3” he grabbed his hands, once again, although softly.

The 2 look at each other for quite a long moment, as they slowly channel the meme energy, yet they can’t help thinking: this is not enough. It’s kind of weird how they both leaned in at the same time, sharing a power shattering kiss that vaporized all the rot out of existence, even the thin layer that made them stuck. Although they were still stuck in the hole that the rot dug out. They looked up, finally seeing the outside world. It was a sight they didn’t think they’d miss so much. Ironically to what 3 was saying before, he didn’t seem to want to let go of 4. 4 didn’t mind that.

“Hey” 3 spoke awkwardly “Just saying if you’d like to kiss me again, you’re totally allowed to”

4 smiled brightly as he took on the request, melting into 3’s touch in the process. Nothing was perfect and wonderful sunshine forever rainbow though so…

“Guys, we’re- oooooooh” Meggy stopped as she noticed the 2.

“We’re here we’re- OOOOOOOOOH” Mario piped up even louder.

“What’s with the- WOAAAH” Boopkins seemed to be the most surprised. He didn’t even see it coming.

The 2 idiots finally noticed the outrage their homosexual activity made happen.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP” 3 yelled at them.

“Yeah you tell them!!” 4 cheered him on.

The 3 other idiots, who patiently pulled them out of the hole could barely wait to ask about everything. What happened in there? Are they Homo Sex now? (A Mario original question) Most importantly: are they okay?

“None of you speak of what you saw” 3 pointed at Meggy, Mario and Boopkins. Boopkins and Meggy nodded, while Mario had different intentions. He was going into his usual devious Mario smile.

“Mario” 3 looked at him with violent intent.

“Hee hee hee”

“Mario, he’s serious” 4 added, also ready to throw hands.

Mario took a few seconds then suddenly took off.

“MARIOOO”

“GET BACK HERE”

“MARIO MUST SHARE WORD OF THE GAY”

And so they couldn’t catch him, now everyone knew that his guardian partners were also romantic partners now. A beautiful ending <3.

---

Hope this was enjoyable! It is my first fic with this series so obviously it's not perfect. Fun fact! I wrote this in one night.

I may possibly have more ideas but nothing too concrete yet oopsie

#smg34 #Nicc's-fics

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asterias-record-shop · 1 year

Text

—𓆩[almost (sweet music)]𓆪—

𓆩[main masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[request/ask me something!]𓆪

one of my first music inspired fics, inspired by Hoziers Almost (Sweet Music)

𓆩♡𓆪 CHARACTER - Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Fem! Wife! Reader

𓆩♡𓆪 TYPE - fluff, smut

𓆩♡𓆪 WORD COUNT - 3.3 k

𓆩♡𓆪 SUMMARY - Watching you and Bradley be the cutest couple on earth reminds him of his best friend. He wouldn’t rather be anywhere else.

𓆩♡𓆪 STORY WARNINGS - this is just adorable fluff || established relationship || I’m a med student guys, I know it doesn’t happen overnight y’all have been having sex for a while- || goes from Mav’s POV to yours and Bradley’s (multiple times) || timeline jumps around || pregnant reader (later) || mom & dad || don’t forget that our boy is 38 years old || Bradley’s great balls of fire <3 || mentions of death || crying || reminiscing || high school sweethearts ||

If there was one person Maverick remembers in Bradley’s young life, it was you, his god-son’s best friend and neighbor. He already had a bet going with Carole - you were going to be the woman that Bradley married, they were just betting on how long it would take.

From the age of sixteen when you both officially started dating, it took him five years to propose and seventeen years after that did you both finally have children. Since you both were aviators, it was harder for you both to actually settle down until you both got to Top Gun, where the baby fever actually started.

Maverick had followed you and Bradley throughout your careers, and you were a highly decorated pilot who had done more than six missions in the last three years before the uranium enrichment plant mission. Stalking you both on social media proved useful as well, being able to see the two of you on the annual trip you both went on anywhere in the world for your anniversary.

Maverick was happy you made his boy happy.

It did surprise him when you asked him not to send you on the mission, though. You were scared in front of him, fiddling with your fingers as you swallow slightly.

“You… you don’t want to go on the mission?” You were first in his mind to pick, not because he didn’t want to bring Bradley, but because he knew that you wouldn’t think and just do. Bradley still had a bit to learn, but you not wanting to go on the mission changed everything.

“I-It’s not that I don’t want to go,” you rub at your wrist, swallowing. “I-I just… want you to go with Brad- Rooster. You and Rooster should go together.”

Maverick looks out to the water, sighing heavily. “Zorro,” he uses your call sign, rubbing his chin. “I trust you. I trust Bradley. I’m not going to not send you-”

“I may be pregnant.”

He paused, though it was more like a freeze. Pregnant? You? Bradley? A father?

Now he had to bring him back. “What?”

You nod, rubbing the skin between your thumb and pointer finger. “I am not sure, but I have been having some symptoms, though it isn't certain.”

“Does Bradley know?”

“Know what?”

“That you’re talking to me. That you could be pregnant.”

You nod, then shake your head. “He knows that I’m talking to you. He doesn’t know that I’m asking you to choose him, but I kind of knew you would. He doesn’t know I could be pregnant.”

Maverick sighed heavily, rubbing his chin. He didn’t know what to do - of course he would’ve chosen Bradley, but if something happened? If you were pregnant and he wasn’t coming back?

“Pete,” you whisper, tapping on his chest. “You keep him safe. Please.”

He swallows, nodding slightly. “I will.”

You lean up, holding his face to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, Mav.”

“Y/N,” a voice says, Maverick’s head snapping over to see Bradley. “You ready?”

You smiled, nodding. “So ready.”

You waved at Maverick as you jogged over, immediately finding your place under Rooster’s arm and wrapping your arm around his waist. Bradley looks back as he pressed his face into your hair, nodding slightly at Maverick as you began ranting about something random going on at your shared home back in San Diego.

Bradley listens, his hand slipping into your back pocket as he pressed kisses against your forehead. He hums occasionally to assure you knew he was still listening, Maverick swallowing as he stared at Bradley’s side profile.

He really did remind him of his father.

“Talk to me, Goose,” he whispers as soon as you both are out of earshot, staring out at the water before someone says his name.

“Maverick,” Warlock stood there, staring. “It’s time.”

When Bradley and Maverick get out of the Tomcat, you were the first to jump into Bradley’s arms. Your own go around his shoulders, Bradley holding back a sob as he tightly wrapped his arms around your waist as you wrapped your legs around him.

“Oh my darling girl,” he whispers into your ear, sighing heavily as he stroked your hair, kissing at your temple. “Fucking hell, I couldn’t stop thinking about you up there.”

“If you ever do that again, I’ll kill you,” you mumble in response, sniffling as Phoenix and Hangman make their way over, Bradley pulling your face closer to his neck as he kisses your cheek. “You’re so stupid.”

“I didn’t think. Like you told me.”

“Yeah, that’s good. That’s good, Roo.” Your fingers push into his hair, sighing as he loosened his hold on you, but still securely holds you to his body.

You don’t make a move to get down, Rooster speaking with Phoenix and Hangman as you finally find Mav. You smile at him, mouthing a ‘thank you’ as he smiles back. He nods, watching as you pull away from Bradley’s shoulder, interrupting his words with a firm kiss to his lips.

Phoenix whoops as she claps, Hangman laughing as Bradley basically turns to mush, groaning into your mouth as you hold his collar firmly. Your hand goes through his hair, his mustache tickling your lips as you pull away. You bite your lip slightly, giggling as you lean close to his ear. “I’m glad you’re back, baby. Have something to tell you.”

Natasha heard, grinning. You had already confided in her about the fact that you could have been pregnant, and watching Rooster’s face as you told him was something that would forever be engraved in her mind.

“We’re having a baby?” He whispers as you brush your nose against his, giggling.

“We could be. I haven’t taken a test-”

“Even if that test is negative, sweetheart, we’ll be having a damn baby.”

You laugh as he spins you around, lifting you up as you hold his shoulders, yelling out, “We’re having a baby!”

You both reminded Maverick of Bradley’s parents, and he couldn’t have been more thankful to see something like this.

When you and Bradley got back home, your fingers trailed over every inch of his skin. What if you would’ve lost him?

That night was the night you both memorized every inch of each other’s bodies again, using muscle memory to get each other to a point of an amazing orgasm.

Bradley’s large hands gripped at the sides of your thighs, his mouth pressed into your hot sex as you held his head, gripping his brown curls. If there was one thing your husband knew, it was how to work his mouth. He had memorized your body after the twenty two years he had been with you, his hands squeezing at your hips as he pulls you slightly off the bed.

“Pl-Please, Lee, is’ too much, t-too much,” you were putty in his scarred hands, eyes rolling back as his mustache grazed over your clit.

He lets his spit gather against the sensitive nerve, smiling at the loud groan that fell from your lips, then proceeding to use his tongue to drag his saliva down to your cunt. Your thighs tighten around his head, moving his hands to your inner thighs to press them against the bed.

When you whimper, he looks up, staring at you through the pretty valley of your tits. He winks, pushing between your pussy lips to press his tongue into your sex, moving one hand to prod against the sensitive ring of muscles with his slick appendage. He watches your eyes roll back, thighs quivering as you inhale deeply, Bradley watching his spit slowly dribble down your slit to the wet sheets under you.

The sight almost made him go crazy.

He pushed his fingers knuckle deep into you, sucking and popping against your clit before dragging his tongue back down. He licks around your entrance, a loud moan leaving your lips before he pulls out his soaked, slick fingers. He spits into your pussy, a yelp leaving your lips as he takes his hand, spreading your lewd juices all over his cock.

He bites his lip as he crawls over your body, lining his cock up with your cunt, using his tip to gather up the cum-saliva mixture dribbling down your pretty lips. He hissed as he pushed himself in, your tight spongy walls clamping down on his cock as you came, body convulsing before he pulled your arms around his neck.

“Come on baby, I’ll make you feel good. I’ll make you feel so good, you know I will, don’t give out on me now,” he grunts into your ear, trying to hold back from ramming into you. He was unsuccessful, the slight bucks of his hips making your overstimulated body jolt and a scream fall from your lips. “You got a few more for me, right?”

He pulled away to look at your fucked out face, the saliva running down your chin and your swollen lips he hasn’t stopped kissing and your hazy eyes with tears adorning your cheeks. You whined, nodding as your hands ran across his chest, one hand going down to cup at his balls as the other wrapped around his shoulders. “Kiss me, Bradley, please kiss me.”

He does, of course he does. He always listened to you, anything you wanted, you got.

“Fuck me, Bradley, fuck me hard.”

Oh, of course he would. What kind of husband would he be if he didn’t?

He pressed his lip to yours again, holding your body close to his with strong hands on your hips. Whispering praises against your lips, he lays you gently along the bed, letting his hands rub against your perfect body.

He leans down, pressing kisses all along your plush skin as he thrusts his hips, quick and hard just like you loved it. He groans against your skin, his rough hands rubbing along your skin like a ritual, a quick pop of his lips every few centimeters of your skin.

His name fell from your lips like a mantra, his tongue trailing along your shoulder as his cock dragged against your walls, one of his hands pushing down to slide between the two of you and rub against your sensitive, puffy clit. He watched, his ego inflating as you threw your head back with a loud scream of his name and a curse.

He takes your thighs, pulling them closer to his body before lifting you up just a bit. Bradley watched your mouth fall open, eyes rolling back with loud moans filling the room as he thrust into you, leaning down to press a kiss to your open mouth. Your hands run through his hair, tugging softly which makes him groan loudly, the added pleasure from your soft fingers and your cunt clamping tightly around his shaft making his eyes roll back.

“You’re doing so good for me, darling, so so good,” he praises into your ear, groaning as you kiss his head. “You’re doing so good, you got one more for me? Please?”

You nodded, eager. “Yes, I do, of course I do Bradley. I have as much as you want, please.”

He smiles, leaning down for a kiss. “I love you, darling.”

You giggled. “I love you too, Bradley. I love you.”

He kissed against your cheek, his thrusts turning softer before getting rougher again. They were rough, hard- a signal he was losing controls. He groaned out, your nails dragging down his back, a loud moan leaving your lips.

“I-I’m close! I’m close, I’m close Bradley, f-fuck, fuck Bradley.”

He laughs, smiling down at you. With a soft grunt, he slams into you, moaning loudly as your walls clamp down on him, tipping him over the edge.

His eyes roll back, loud moans falling from his lips and your name being whispered into your ear, praiseful words soothing you as his hands rubbed against your soft tummy. “Feel good, darling?” He whispers into your ear.

You nodded, head resting against his shoulder as you panted, the feeling of his cum filling you up making you moan again as he moved slightly. “Gonna fuck me through it, Bradley?”

Oh you tempted him, and with soft rolls of his hips, he pressed a soft kiss to your lips. “Yeah darling, I will,” he rolls his hips slowly, watching your eyes roll back before letting his hands palm at your pretty tits. “Want to take a break? Let me clean you up?”

You nodded slightly, hissing as he pulled out, his eyes staring at the cum- his cum slowly trickled out of you. You looked so, so pretty full of him.

He takes his fingers, slowly pushing the cum back into you, your thighs quivering. “B-Bradley, Bradley please-”

“It’s okay, darling, I promise. I’m going to clean you up.” He whispers, mischief dancing in his eyes as you whine.

“F-Fuck, Bradley-”

He takes his place between your thighs, sucking on your puffed up clit as he thrusts his fingers into you, pushing your mixed cum back into you. He pops kisses against your thigh, leaving soft red marks everywhere he went before grinning up at you. “Told you we’re having a baby no matter what.”

You went with Bradley to Maverick’s hanger, dressed in a pretty purple sundress with white flowers dotted all along it. His arm was wrapped tightly around your waist as he walked in, the morning sickness from the past couple of days worrying him.

“You alright, darling? Do you need a seat, some breakfast? A drink?”

You only giggle, shaking your head. This type of concern was rare for Bradley to show outside of your shared home, and as much as you appreciated it, you softly pushed him away. “I’m okay, Bradley. Go.”

He looks back at the plane, groaning. “Are you sure? We can go back. We can go back home-”

“Bradley. Go.”

He sighs, slowly pushing you into a chair. “Just… let me know if you need anything.”

“I will. Go!” You pushed him, watching as Maverick slowly came down from a platform.

He waves at you, a giggle falling from your lips with a quick wave as Bradley walks over to him. They stand in front of each other for a minute, awkward, before Maverick hugs him.

It was tight, the hug, tighter than he thought it would be. Or, initially meant it to be. Maverick slowly pulls away, ruffling his hair before leading him up the platform, looking over at the wall that had one of Bradley’s old baseball pictures on it.

He watched as Bradley looked back at you, your form relaxed in the most comfortable chair Mav could find and that he put out for you. Bradley smiled, a pure, perfect smile as you crossed your legs. You wave up at them, Maverick coming behind him with a smile.

You reminded him of Bradley’s mother, who on some days would just sit there, watching him and Goose work on whatever they had to. He looks over at Bradley, that stupid smile and that mustache that was just like his dad’s making Maverick sigh.

It was like looking into a mirage, a dream of wanting to see his best friend again. And for a minute, he did. He saw Goose in Bradley, and it made his heart swell in happiness, or feel as though it was.

“Mav? What’re you staring at?”

The mirage was gone. The time Maverick wanted to go back to so bad was gone, and now he was here, with Bradley.

Even then, though, the happiness never went away.

Bradley, though, stared at him in confusion. “Mav?”

Maverick shakes his head. “Let’s get to work, kid.”

Your baby shower was at the Hard Deck, hosted by Penny and Phoenix. The future godmother of your baby was excited, and she made sure everything, everything was perfect so neither you or Bradley had to worry.

You were expecting twins, and this would determine what you would be having with your husband, and the names you two had settled on as well. Since you met Bradley, you already knew the names of the children you’d want - mainly because you and him had been together since what could’ve surely been the beginning of time.

You had finally sat down after being on your feet for about an hour, saying hello to everyone and doing whatever a good host would do. So finally, you lift your feet onto a chair as you sit on the patio of the hard deck, stroking your tummy. You needed some air from the crowded party, especially because Bradley was worrying about you because you were nearing your due date.

The baby shower was late, especially because Bradley had to go on a mission, and that made him even more protective. He didn’t want to leave, but the way you forced him to made him know that he could, that he had to. You both were aviators before you were going to be parents, and you both sure as hell were going to be aviators after for hopefully a long time.

You let your fingers trail over your tummy, sighing heavily before looking out at the beach. You relax when you feel someone’s hands on your shoulders, those oh so familiar hands that rubbed softly, releasing all the tension they once had. “Oh my… darling, that feels good.”

Bradley smiles. “Of course, darling. Are you alright?”

You sigh. “I uhm… I’m just, a little- fuck.” You cursed, a sharp pain shooting into your lower abdomen. Bradley quickly goes around, stroking your side. “Baby? Darling, you alright?”

I shook my head. “N-No, I’m fine! I’m fine, it’s just… these pains have been happening for a few hours, but uhm… I don’t know, th-they just got worse.”

“Babe, we need to go to the hospital.”

You shook your head. “Why? We haven’t even had the gender-” you gasp, holding your stomach. The sharp pain made you straighten, another loud groan falling from your lips in pain as Bradley looked around frantically.

“I’m calling an ambulance.”

“No! No, don’t,” you say, inhaling deeply as you stand. “J-Just drive me there. Please.”

He nods. “Yeah, yeah okay. I’ll tell them-”

You gasped, holding your stomach as you hunch over. “Bradley. Bradley, oh my god, Bradley- we’re having a baby. Babies. We’re having babies.”

He freezes. “Right now?”

You let out a scream of pain. “Yes! Yes right now, holy shit!”

Six hours later, your sons Nikolai and Zion were born, Nikolai named after Bradley’s father, Nick.

As soon as you were back on your feet, there you were, sitting at the Hard Deck in front of the piano. You were breastfeeding Zion as Bradley held Nikolai in his arms, who you both often called Nick, Bradley - of course - singing Great Balls of Fire.

You laughed next to him, leaning against his shoulder as maverick stood at the bar, sighing.

I’ve got some color back, he looks at you, who smiles back at him.

She thinks so too.

He laughs as Nikolai slams down on the keyboard, absolutely ruining the keys of Great Balls of Fire, but when Bradley laughs and kisses his head, he sighs heavily. I’m almost me again.

Bradley looks back at him, smiling. He jerks his head to the side, beckoning Maverick over. And he does, walking over to see his godson’s babies.

He’s almost you.

reblogs, comments, and likes are greatly appreciated! I love getting y'alls feedback :)

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