#to submitting on time for reasons out of her control

[trucygoose]

upsetposting now. why did my systems teacher change our project due date from friday to monday We Don't Even Have School Monday

[tongue-like-a-razor]

Less Talk | Part X

Jake Seresin x F!Reader

A/N: We're finally here! For a minute there, I didn't think this day would come XD I hope you've enjoyed reading this series as much as I've enjoyed writing it. Thank you so much for all the love and support, I honestly probably would not have otherwise finished it!

Summary: Jake can't stand Bradley's best friend. What's more, he's probably in love with her, which really pisses him off.

CW: Swearing, angst, fluff

WR: ~4900

Masterlist | Part I

Jake leaves his mug on the counter and slowly approaches the kitchen table. He watches Bradley incredulously as the news sinks in. “Where is she going?” he finally says.

“Back to her mom’s.”

Jake’s eyebrows flit up momentarily. “That’s halfway across the country.”

Bradley nods, although he looks somewhat uncomfortable under Jake’s persistent scrutiny.

“Why?”

Bradley sighs. “I got a call from her mom a couple weeks ago.”

“I remember,” Jake says, recalling the party and your unwillingness to speak with your best friend, despite his obvious distress.

“Said she was kicked out of her program,” Bradley continues.

“What?” Jake lowers himself into the seat across from Bradley. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Bradley shrugs. “I didn’t know if she was sharing. Anyway, apparently her boyfriend called her mom and delivered the news.”

Jake’s jaw muscles contract. “I could kill him, I swear.”

“She submitted a plagiarized paper, Jake.”

Jake glances up at his friend fiercely. “Bullshit,” he says immediately.

Bradley nods. “I agree.”

Jake shakes his head. “She wouldn’t. Of all people, she wouldn’t.”

“I tried talking to her about it but, as you know, she’s been avoiding me like the plague.”

“She didn’t dispute it?”

Bradley shakes his head solemnly. “She came by yesterday to tell me that the engagement is off and that she’s leaving. For good.”

Jake glances up at Bradley abruptly, as if roused from a reverie. “The engagement is off? Since when?”

“She didn’t tell you that part either?” Bradley grimaces. “What the fuck did you two even talk about?”

Jake blinks at Bradley a couple of times and then leaps out of his seat. “Let’s go,” he says urgently, grabbing his jacket off the back of a chair. “We can’t let her leave.”

Bradley stands and takes one final gulp of beer before following Jake out of the kitchen. He takes his car keys off the hook by the front door while Jake unplugs the fan and turns off the living room lights. “Shut up,” he mutters on his way out the door when Bradley gives him a knowing smirk.

Jake skips down the porch steps and marches to his truck. “Want me to drive?” Bradley calls after him, holding up the keys to his Bronco.

Jake pulls open the door to his truck. For some reason, he feels like driving might bring him a sense of comfort. “No, I’ll drive,” he says as Bradley approaches the truck. Then, as an afterthought, he adds, looking up at his friend over the cab. “Rooster.”

Bradley glances up at him, his hand over the doorhandle. “Yeah?”

Jake sighs irritably. “I’m in love with her.”

Bradley gives him a look and pulls open the passenger door. “I know,” he replies wryly and gets into the truck.

…

“Still not picking up?” Jake asks, looking over at Bradley who solemnly shakes his head. He sets his phone down over Jake’s, having tried you from both numbers.

Jake pulls up right behind the white mustang in your driveway. Bradley winces as Jake finally yanks on the handbrake about two inches from the pristine car’s sleek bumper. Before Bradley could comment on Jake’s parking job, however, the latter shoots out of the truck and jogs up to your front door.

Bradley, somewhat hesitantly, follows suit. He stops a few feet short of the porch, though, probably deciding that Jake is threatening enough all on his own.

Mustang opens the door a crack and Jake immediately steps forward, like a dog that hasn’t quite mastered the art of impulse control. “Where is she?” he growls, sticking his face between the frame and the door that’s still latched by a chain.

“Go fuck yourself,” Mustang spits out and tries to squeeze Jake out before slamming the door.

Mistake, of course. Because Jake isn’t afraid of getting his paint chipped. He pushes his weight into the door and reaches in through the opening to grab a hold of Mustang’s collar. Then he yanks on him sharply, causing Mustang’s temple to crash into the doorframe. Jake gives Mustang another tug until his wide jaw is wedged into the open space like a door jam.

Bradley clears his throat in the background uncomfortably, but keeps his hands in his pockets for the time being.

Jake holds onto Mustang’s collar tightly while the latter pants in alarm.

“Where is she?” Jake repeats, more quietly and more dangerously than before.

“She left already,��� Mustang chokes out.

“Then why are you still here?” Jake hisses.

“I’m just getting my stuff.”

“Hangman,” Bradley says in an appeasing sort of tone. “We’re wasting time.”

Jake still glares at your ex with hatred, his grip tightening around Mustang’s shirt despite his eyes bulging nearly out of their sockets. “What’s her flight number?”

Mustang shakes his head with difficulty and croaks, “Fuck if I know.”

Jake gives him a rough jolt and Bradley, again, says, “Jake, we should go.”

“What time does she take off?” Jake asks. “What airline?”

Mustang’s eyes begin to water. “Fuck that bitch,” he sputters. “She got what she deserved.”

Jake, enraged beyond words, could have probably taken the whole door off its frame in his fury, if not for Bradley coming to haul him off the porch. “We have to go!” Bradley shouts while Jake, still fuming, flares out his chest.

“Come out and fight like a man!” Jake bellows, combatting Bradley’s attempts to restrain him.

“He’s not worth it,” Bradley urges, continuing to push him down the path back to the driveway.

“What’s the matter, Mustang?” Jake jeers. “Scared I’ll put a dent in that fancy mug of yours?” He jerks away from Bradley and heads straight for the white mustang in the driveway. “What’s the point” – he yells, push-kicking the door of the car – “of all that muscle –”

“Jake! Fuck!” Bradley yelps, dragging Jake back, away from the white car, less immaculate now that it’s got a depression in its frame about the size of Jake’s heel.

Jake chuckles and a moment later, Mustang appears in the driveway, gasping in horror when he sees the state of his car. “You piece of fucking –”

“Jake, go, go, go!” Bradley shouts, shoving his friend in the direction of the truck. They hop in before Mustang can orientate himself in his distress and Jake floors the pedal in reverse the moment his engine roars to life. “Ha!” Bradley exclaims, drumming enthusiastically on the dashboard as Jake pulls out of the driveway.

Jake smirks, adrenaline coursing deliciously through his body as he accelerates toward the freeway.

…

“What is this bullshit?” Jake grumbles, smacking his steering wheel in frustration.

Bradley grimaces at the string of red lights ahead of them on the ramp. “There’s another lot farther out,” he suggests.

Jake shakes his head. “I’m not turning around.”

“Okay,” Bradley responds patiently. “I’m sure this’ll be quick,” he adds, although he doesn’t sound very convinced, himself.

Jake lets out a sharp exhale, inching forward slowly. About fifteen minutes later, they finally pull up to the parking garage. Jake peeks up at the clearance bar with a grimace. “Think we’ll make it?”

Bradley glances at the marker and then at Jake. “How big are your tires?” he deadpans.

Jake looks at Bradley with a scowl. “What makes you think they’re big?”

Bradley returns Jake’s scowl twofold. “You got a roof rack on this thing?”

“Of course I’ve got a roof rack. What kind of man doesn’t have a roof rack on his car?” Jake scoffs offendedly. A horn blares from behind them and Bradley sighs, closing his eyes. Jake ignores the sound and leans forward over his steering wheel, staring up at the bar contemptuously.

“Well, we’ll have to risk it. We can’t park here,” Bradley reasons.

Jake nods but doesn’t move. Several more horns interrupt their conversation and Jake rolls down his window to yell at the car in behind, “Have some patience, asshole!”

Bradley drags a hand over his face wearily. “We really don’t have time for another conflict,” he remarks.

Jake groans grudgingly and slowly releases the brake. They both wince as the truck rolls precariously under the clearance bar and, when it makes it through unscathed, Jake howls excitedly while Bradley lets out an audible sigh of relief.

…

Finding an available spot takes about twenty minutes and about ten years off Jake’s life. Cursing, Jake clambers out of the truck and slams his door aggressively. Bradley extracts his phone from his pocket and takes a photo of their vehicle’s location.

Jake waits for him impatiently to which Bradley replies, “You’ll thank me later.”

“Yeah,” Jake agrees, but walks briskly ahead to look around in search of signs that might point the way to the terminal.

“This way,” Bradley says, pointing to the elevators at the far end of the lot.

“This place is a fucking maze,” Jake grumbles.

“What, you never been to a commercial airport before?” Bradley jokes. Jake gives him a flat look and Bradley snorts and claps Jake on the back. “Relax, man. We’ll find her.”

Jake tries not to show just how anxious he is by giving Bradley a nod and a tight smile. He blazes into the stairwell, ignoring the slowly opening elevator doors, and Bradley follows behind him, jogging up the stairs.

In the terminal, they stop to look up at the flight information board listing all the departures taking place that night.

“Two possible flights she could be on,” Bradley says.

“Two different gates,” Jake comments solemnly.

“The first one is leaving in twenty minutes. She’ll already be on the plane,” Bradley says, “if that’s her flight.”

“Maybe she’ll be on the other one,” Jake says hopefully, starting in the direction of the second gate.

Bradley hurries to catch up with him through the crowded airport.

“Where are all these people going?” Jake mutters under his breath, pushing his way past slower moving, luggage towing individuals.

Bradley eyes him with a small grin. “They have just as much a right to be here as you do, Jake.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jake says, pushing his way through an excited group of travellers wearing parkas and winter hats. “That’s her gate up there!” He starts for it at a run despite the dense crowd around them.

Bradley follows, albeit less obnoxiously. Then, about ten feet from the gate, Jake stops short and Bradley crashes right into him. “Dude!” he exclaims, rubbing his chest.

“It’s her,” Jake breathes.

Bradley turns his head and it takes him several moments to locate you because you’re already going through security.

“Y/N!” Jake hollers, cupping his hands around his mouth.

You don’t hear him, though, because there’s a glass wall separating you from the checkpoint queue. Bradley, in an effort to help Jake get your attention, also starts calling your name. Meanwhile, Jake starts for the security checkpoint at a run, which sort of worries Bradley. “You need a boarding pass to get through –”

But Jake, completely ignoring Bradley’s warning, hops right over the stanchion behind the security officer’s back.

“Fuck,” Bradley mutters under his breath as the officer turns around in alarm and brings a walkie to his face. Other security personnel rush over in a panic and Bradley, approaching as casually as possible, says, with a wave of his hand, “It’s cool.” He leans nonchalantly on one of the glass panels near the checkpoint, adding, “He’s a pilot.”

Several of the officers look over at him like he’s nuts.

…

Jake makes it all the way to the glass doors before somebody apprehends him, and then he shouts your name again. You turn around just as that somebody throws him to the ground. Jake groans, not too pleased about having to taste this particular carpet.

“What are you doing?” he hears you screech, and he glances up with just his eyes because his face is still being pressed into the ground.

“Hey, how are ya?” he manages to say.

“What the fuck are you doing?” you repeat, more aggressively this time.

Jake winces as someone’s knee digs into his spine. “Baking a cake. What’s it look like I’m doing?” He grunts as he’s finally lifted to his feet.

You are staring at him wildly when he meets your gaze.

“Hey,” he says again, rotating his shoulders to alleviate the cramp in his back.

Behind you, security personnel have started to block off the entire area.

“Sir, we’re going to need you to come with us,” the officer still holding onto Jake says firmly.

“What? Where are you taking him?” you ask.

“You need to come with us too, ma’am,” another officer says.

“No,” Jake groans. “She didn’t do anything.”

“This is a misunderstanding,” you say. “He’s a Navy Lieutenant. Jake, tell them!”

 “No, don’t tell them that.” Jake cringes. He would prefer not to be reprimanded for this incident by his superior officers.

You stare at him as the two of you are led to a holding area near the checkpoint. Meanwhile, Jake can see Bradley scrambling past passersby to keep the two of you in sight as he holds his phone to his ear.

“Didn’t know you were planning on taking a vacation,” Jake says as the officer in charge of detaining him nods for his colleague to open the door. “Going somewhere nice?”

You give him a dirty look as you are walked into the holding room.

“Please wait here until law enforcement arrives.”

You look up at the man in alarm. “Law enforcement? He’s in the military!” you shout.

“Shh,” Jake shushes you. “Don’t yell at the nice officer,” he warns you. “We can wait,” he assures the security team.

The door closes and you look over at Jake furiously. “I’m going to miss my flight!” you scream at him. “Because of you!”

Jake sets his jaw. “Good.”

You glare at him incredulously. “How are you so goddamn selfish?”

“I’m selfish?” he retorts. “I spent all morning with you. We had sex” – Jake takes note that you cringe at the word – “and yet you failed to mention that you’ve moving clear across the fucking country!”

“What do you care? You hate me, remember?” you yell back.

“Oh, I remember,” he snaps. “I also remember your diatribe on the avocado, and how much you loathe everything I stand for. I remember your outrageous appraisal of my truck, and the ridiculous way you hold a pool cue. Your annoying inability to shut the fuck up about the stupidest shit and your equally annoying refusal to tell me about the things that actually matter.”

You blink at him with a scowl and fold your arms over your chest. “This is the worst love confession I’ve ever heard,” you grumble.

Jake exhales forcefully. “I haven’t confessed anything yet.”

You suck in your cheeks and look up at the ceiling impatiently. “I’ll wait.”

Jake releases another irritated sigh. “There isn’t a single thing about you that I’ve been able to successfully forget. Despite my best efforts.”

You meet his gaze half-heartedly but say nothing.

“You just showed up one day, out of nowhere, and I’ve been messed up ever since. Do you get that?” He stares at you wildly, realizing that he’s getting something off his chest that he hadn’t even really known was weighing on him. “You walk around like you don’t owe anybody a goddamn thing. You’re out here pretending like your actions – your decisions – don’t affect people. Well, they do, alright? You affect people! You affect me.”

You lower your gaze mutely, as though you’re lost for words for the first time ever. The very idea is preposterous, however, and Jake is sure that you’re just waiting for the most opportune moment to counter. He decides not to give you the opportunity.

“What do you want out of life?” he says with an edge to his tone because he’s anxious to get to his point.

You glance back up at him curiously.

“Ask me again,” he says. “Ask me the whole thing. Disregarding the fact that we are meaningless or whatever nonsense you spewed. Ask me.”

You gulp and clear your throat. “What do you want, Jake?”

He releases a sharp sigh, deliberately maintaining eye contact. “You,” he responds firmly. “You, you, you.” He takes a step toward you, his eyes searching yours urgently because he’s desperate to be honest for once. To lay it all out so you have the facts before you run. “Whatever the damn question is, okay?” He takes up your hands and holds them to his chest. “My answer is always you.”

You watch him with that same unreadable gaze, the one that Jake has spent months trying to decipher. But he knows that he’s gotten under your skin just as much as you’ve gotten under his. Because he knows you. So, he waits; allows you a moment to gauge his sincerity. As if tracking you down at a civilian airport and getting detained isn’t evidence enough. Your eyes well up suddenly and, unexpectedly, you move away from him. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I’m sorry for affecting you.”

Jake lets his hands fall when you withdraw. “I just want you to tell me the truth,” he says. “I want you to stop acting like nothing ever gets to you.”

You glance up at him fiercely and cry, “You get to me, okay? Is that what you want to hear? That I am also affected?” You draw in a sob and lean your back against the wall, hiding your face in your hand.

Jake, both distraught and relieved that you’re finally emoting, approaches you slowly. He puts an arm around your shoulders and brings you into his chest. All he wants is to express just how much you mean to him – just how far he’d go to make you happy – but all that comes out is, “I don’t want you to go,” which is partly muffled anyway because he says it with his mouth on your head.

You sniffle miserably against his shoulder and shift your weight to lean into him. “I can’t stay,” you respond.

Jake, whose entire body is both vibrating and paralyzed at the same time, says quietly. “Tell me why.”

“I got kicked out,” you whimper, as if this is the ‘why’ Jake is after.

“Not that,” he says, taking a step back so that he can look you in the eye. “Tell me why you got engaged. The morning after I – after we… Were you already engaged when you came to the party? When I kissed you?”

“No,” you say. “He proposed that night.”

Jake watches you patiently. “And you said yes?”

“Because he promised he’d confess.”

Jake stares at you. “Confess?”

“He submitted a plagiarized paper on my behalf. Right after we broke up.”

Jake grimaces. “What a fucking nutcase.”

“He was angry. But obviously he didn’t think I’d get kicked out for it.”

“Why didn’t he just come clean when shit hit the fan?”

“And get kicked out himself? He wouldn’t take that chance; his defense is coming up in less than six months.”

“So…you decided to marry him?”

“He told me he was sorry and promised he’d talk to the board as soon as he passed. I figured I’d just agree to the engagement and call it off once he came clean.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this? That day, when he announced the engagement. Why didn’t you just tell me?”

You sigh. “What would you have done?”

“Kicked his ass,” Jake responds without a moment’s thought.

“Exactly,” you say. “You’re about one offense from getting kicked out, yourself.”

Jake has no rebuttal to this because you’re sort of right on the money in this case. His last altercation nearly cost him his wings and he’s not at all looking forward to explaining this airport fiasco to his superiors. “When did you call off the engagement?” he asks.

“This morning,” you say. “Before I came to see you.”

Jake plants his hands on his hips. “So why are you leaving?”

“Well, he’s never going to admit what he did. So, I’m out of the program for good. Why would I stay?”

Jake stares at you. “Are you for real?”

You shrug. “He’s never going to leave me alone.”

“Oh, he’ll leave you alone,” Jake says firmly. “Or I’ll break his legs.”

You give him a reproachful look. “And get arrested? Lose your job?”

“Fine, I’ll break his car.”

You roll your eyes.

“I’m not letting you run,” he says, taking a confident step toward you.

“It’s not up to you.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t care.” He takes your face in his hands.

“Don’t be an ass,” you say, lisping slightly because your cheeks are squished between his palms.

Jake smirks. “But I’m good at it.”

“It’s my decision,” you say, trying to sound firm despite the aforementioned speech impediment.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jake continues. “What do you want for dinner?”

“Jake!”

Jake lets his forehead rest against yours. “You missed your flight anyway,” he mutters. “And I love you,” he adds, casually enough for it to perhaps blend into the conversation unnoticed.

But you notice it. You lift your face to meet his gaze. “You do?” you ask quietly.

“Don’t act all surprised.”

You smile mildly. “Surprised that you can admit it.”

“One of us had to.”

You gaze at him mutely.

And just as Jake is about to spiral in response to your lack of a response, the door opens and someone steps inside.

“C’mon,” Bradley urges, waving his arm impatiently. “I’m busting you out.”

“How –” you begin.

But Jake cuts you off, “Shh, don’t ask questions.” He leads you through the open door after Bradley as he surveys the immediate vicinity in all directions.

“You’re both pieces of work,” you mutter under your breath and Jake, who’s got an arm around your shoulders, squeezes you affectionately.

There is a large crowd just outside of the holding room, and a commotion near the gate. Clearly, Bradley had managed to create some sort of diversion. A subtle craning of his neck allows Jake to see exactly who it is that’s causing a scene.

“Keep you head down!” Bradley whispers hoarsely from behind, smacking Jake’s crown with annoyance.

Jake ducks slightly and looks over his shoulder at Bradley, “Was that Bob?”

“Yep,” Bradley responds. “Apparently, he owed you?”

Jake scrunches up his eyebrows as Bradley continues to jostle the two of you toward the exit. “Owed me?”

“Said he cockblocked you at your party two weeks ago?” Bradley says. “Sorry, ‘my’ party,” he adds, with quotation marks around the ‘my’.

You glance between Bradley and Jake with a smirk as the latter raises his eyebrows. “He remembers that night?”

Bradley nods, finally walking out into the sunlight. “He’s felt bad about it ever since.”

Jake glances down at you, wondering if things would have been different had Bob not shown up that fated night, blasted out of his mind. Would you have spent the night? Not gotten engaged to Mustang? Would you have told him the big secret you were keeping, thereby avoiding the whole debacle entirely? Perhaps Bob does owe him.

“Anyway, I called up the cavalry and Bob immediately volunteered,” Bradley continues, making his way to the parking garage.

Suddenly, you stop, and Bradley and Jake come to a halt and look back at you in confusion.

“Here’s the thing about a quick getaway, princess,” says Jake, approaching you to take your hand. “You have to get away quickly.”

You pull your hand out of his. “When did I agree to staying?”

“Lord, give me strength,” Jake mutters, throwing his head back to look up at the sky with a sigh.

“Maybe you can decide this at a safer distance away from where you nearly just got arrested,” Bradley suggests.

“I don’t understand the issue here,” Jake says. “I beat Mustang to a pulp until he confesses. Problem solved.”

Bradley grimaces. “I can see why she might not be on board.”

“Guys, my luggage has already been checked.”

Jake places his hands on his hips and stares you down. “What goes up must come down.”

You roll your eyes. “My mom is expecting me,” you continue.

Jake takes a phone out of his pocket and holds it out. “Simple enough to fix.”

You exhale sharply. “This has to be my decision,” you declare.

Jake shifts his jaw, his face forming a frown without his consent. He locks eyes with you and nods. “Make it, then.”

You swallow uncomfortably without breaking eye contact and Bradley retreats a few steps in the background.

“I don’t know if you know this,” you begin quietly, and Jake dares not move lest he miss a single syllable of your speech. Who knew that a day would come when he’d pretty much give anything just to keep you talking? “But I liked you probably before I even started to hate you.”

Jake gives you a cautious smile. “Probably?”

“Don’t push it,” you retort.

“Sorry, I’ll shut up,” he responds, fighting to keep a straight face. “Go on, tell me how much I mean to you.”

You sigh. “Can you refrain from being an ass for at least a minute?”

Jake makes a face. “Doubtful.”

“Uh, I can attest to that,” Bradley chimes in from behind.

“Rooster, we’re having a moment here,” Jake calls over his shoulder.

“Are you sure about that?” Bradley counters, in response to which Jake just shakes his head.

“Continue,” Jake says to you. “Please.”

You let out an irritable sigh, “I can’t tell you why I liked you, I’m still trying to figure that one out.”

Jake plants his hands on his hips. “Liar.”

You stare at him rather uncomfortably. “I had a boyfriend, remember? I had no business liking you.”

Jake narrows his eyes but stays silent.

“I think it’s because…” you voice trails off and you let out a grudging sigh.

“It’s the truck, isn’t it?” Jake asks pompously. “One ride was all it took.”

You snort out a chuckle and shake your head. “No,” you say. “It’s that.” You gesture at him and he knits his eyebrows together, intrigued. “That ‘sharp sense of humor’,” you say, mockingly repeating the first ever compliment he made you all those moons ago. “No matter how mad you make me, or how pissed I am at the world, you somehow can always make me laugh.”

Jake watches you soberly now, touched that you were finally able to express your feelings. “Don’t tell the truck that,” he mutters.

“Why?” You grin, taking a step toward him. “Does the truck have an ego problem?”

Jake’s lips form a tight, guilt-ridden smirk as you approach. “The truck might have an ego problem.”

You’re standing so close to him now that you have to lift your chin to maintain eye contact. “I might have another confession to make,” you say softly, so that your voice nearly gets swept away in the small breeze filtering through the tunnel.

Jake gulps, not sure he could handle standing at this proximity without getting a little stupid. He’ll have to keep his mouth shut because his brain isn’t the organ being prioritized at the moment.

“I think about the truck a lot,” you whisper, your eyes flitting slowly between his.

“You do?” Jake croaks, and then, clearing his throat, repeats, “You do?”

You nod. “I like how it handles the bumps in the road.”

“Well, yeah, it’s got some heavy-duty shocks, plus the ground clearance –”

“Jake,” you cut him off, unimpressed.

Jake grins. “It’s pretty well-equipped for off-roading, was what I meant to say.”

You gaze at him in amusement. “Perhaps we could try to navigate away from the uneven terrain.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

You lower your gaze with a small chuckle but, despite the smile, you look uneasy. “I need to know that you’re not going to do anything reckless.”

Jake considers your words for a moment. “Define reckless.”

You glance up at him impatiently. “Check the dictionary.”

He grins. “Fine,” he agrees. “But I can’t vouch for the truck.”

You chuckle again, rolling your eyes. “Shut up and take me home, Jake.”

“Does that mean you’re staying?”

You smile at him and start walking.

“Finally,” Bradley exclaims as the two of you catch up to him. “You guys talk way too much. We’re still fugitives, you know?”

“Sorry, I just needed Jake to know how much I love his truck,” you say with a giggle.

Bradley gives you a confused look while Jake does a double take. “You love my truck?”

You stare at him. “I thought that was obvious.”

“No.” He furiously shakes his head. “No, that was not at all obvious.” Jake steps around Bradley and stops you in your tracks.

Bradley groans in frustration, throwing up his hands. “Guys!”

“You love…” Jake say, “my truck. You love my truck. You love my truck?”

You blink at him innocently and nod. “Uh-huh,” you acknowledge and then walk around him to continue on your merry way.

Jake takes your wrist and you turn back to look at him. He clears his throat uncomfortably. “Just to clarify – so that I know we’re on the same page – I’m the truck, right?”

You press your lips together to keep your growing grin at bay and lower your gaze. “You’re the truck, Jake,” you respond coyly.

“I’m the truck,” Jake repeats stupidly. Hadn’t he earlier meant to stay quiet?

You catch his gaze and smile more freely now. “Right,” you say. “And I could really go for another ride.”

Jake stares at you for a moment, lost for words. Then he slides his arms under your butt and scoops you up so that you’re looking down at him, your feet dangling a foot off the ground.

“Way to remain inconspicuous, you two,” Bradley remarks in the background.

But Jake ignores his best friend and cranes his neck as you lower your lips to his. And he lets you cradle his face in your delicate hands and kiss him. Because, damnit, it’s high time for some action.

A/N: THE END!!! Thank you guys so much for reading! xoxo

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[edamameimei]

always love you (megan skiendiel x reader)

"still, i'll always be there for you, how i do. i let go of my claim on you, it's a free world."

synopsis: the five times you wish megan would choose you + the one time megan finally does. tags: angst. hurt, no comfort! idol!megan x dream academy!reader au. an: just want to put out there that this is not a REAL portrayal of the people mentioned in this fic. all events are fictional and are for entertainment purposes only. CW: suggestive themes MDNI! kissing, substance use. swearing. megan is kind of a meanie head in this ): wc: 8109

⏯ now playing: godspeed - frank ocean

When you first met her, you called it fate. 

To you, it was fate and everything in between because auditioning for Dream Academy seemed like a lost cause. When you first saw the announcement, you thought it would be too good to be true. And the fact that it was global? There was no possible way for someone like you to receive good news, let alone be sent a rejection. You almost convinced yourself that your audition tape would become lost amongst the thousands that would be submitted. 

But there was an urge to do it— an urge so strong you couldn’t possibly say no to the grip the Hybe x Geffen ad had on you. Also, at that point, anything would have been better than going to college. So, you took fate up on its offer. 

And surprisingly, fate allowed you to hear back months later. Not only get a response, but also earn a spot with the project. 

Moving to Los Angeles was something you never considered before Dream Academy. You were so used to your small town that the idea of packing your bags and going somewhere so daunting almost made you drop out of the project completely. But there was a reason you were chosen, and you were determined to see it through. 

Once you arrive at the dorms, your anxiety begins to creep up on you. Most of the other girls met during training and development virtually, so you felt relieved to hear you would be sharing a space with two other girls who were also new to the line-up. From what you were told, one is named Daniela and the other is Manon. You hope and pray they are decent people to be around. 

When you enter the room, you realize you’re the last one to set up your space. You walk over to the open bed, smoothing out the sheets in front of you. Your eyes begin to twitch when you hear loud voices out in the hallway, suddenly feeling trapped despite being the only one inside the dorm. The thought of being stuck with 19 other girls makes you feel self-conscious. You flinch when you hear a girl’s voice booming from the other side of the door. 

None of it feels real; the experience still feels fresh, as if you read that email just yesterday. 

There’s a desire to run and hide, but you aren’t sure where you would even go. You decide to sit down on the floor, crossing your legs. Your hands shake as you rub your face, trying to control the panic that begins to settle in your throat. You’re supposed to be getting ready for your first big meeting with the other girls, yet the negative thoughts in your head run wild, the synapses in your brain misfiring at a millisecond. 

You grip your knees when you hear the door open. 

The person murmurs, “Oh shit,” upon walking in and it causes you to look up with wide eyes. 

Your eyes meet a pair of soft brown hues that makes your mouth go dry. You feel your heart beat faster as you see a smile form on her lips and hear her giggle nervously. “Fuck– Oh my god. I’m so sorry, I thought this was Sophia’s room…”

You don’t know who Sophia is, but you really wish, in this moment, you were the girl she was looking for. The stranger looks around the room, and you can tell she’s feeling a bit panicked. Her awkwardness causes you to laugh. You wipe your eyes as the nauseating feeling in the pit of your stomach disappears with just her presence. 

You stand to your feet, shaking your head. “A Sophia isn’t assigned to this room, sorry…” Your voice is a bit shaky as you speak, and you can’t help but feel relieved when she doesn’t comment. She simply nods, stepping out of the room with a quick wave. “I’d say more, but I really need to find her. I’ll see you later?” You laugh again, and it makes her laugh as well, both of you finding the situation amusing. You wave her goodbye and watch as she quickly closes the door shut. 

Your heart feels full as you turn back toward your luggage, a new feeling of motivation resonating throughout your body. 

Her name is Megan, and it’s fate that brought you two here together. 

You walk outside of the Geffen building and find Megan sitting on the grass with her headphones in. She had her eyes closed, trying to find some sort of peace after another exhausting day of practice. You slowly walk toward her, feeling a gravitational pull toward the black-haired girl.

You sit yourself next to her, deciding to lie down when the exhaustion begins to catch up to you as well. You put your arms underneath your head and glance at her, watching as she opens her eyes. Megan slowly takes her headphones off, raising an eyebrow. She opens her mouth to say something, but you beat her to it.

The words come out quickly and slightly jumbled. “You’re really talented.” You can tell your sudden compliment throws Megan off guard as she chuckles nervously. She looks away, her eyes crinkling. “Thank you…” You sit up and give her a soft smile.

There is a calming energy to Megan that provides you with a weird sense of security, and as you two sit in a comfortable silence, you wonder if she feels the same way about you. 

The rest is history. 

Wherever Megan would go, you would follow in tow. There wasn’t a moment when the other Dream Academy contestants wouldn’t see Megan without you, and vice versa. You often relished in your alone time when you had the chance, but now with Megan in your life, you don’t mind the younger girl tagging along with you to an activity that was meant to be solo or coming with her on a late-night drive. 

You have grown fond of Megan’s personality. She could light up any room she walked into, her bright smile immediately putting everyone in a better mood, despite the rising tension amongst the girls most days. She’s carefree yet so passionate about her dreams. Her ambitions motivated you to work hard, to solidify a spot in the group so you can continue being by her side. 

But unfortunately, there were more days than not when you can’t seem to see the finish line. 

You sit criss-crossed on your bed, staring down at your hands in your lap. Today, you will be filming the first teaser for Dream Academy, and the thought of the project going public makes you feel sick. Your roommates have already gotten ready– their gray uniforms on and their hair and make-up done so well that you can’t help but berate yourself for not being like them. You think about how you will never be like them. Hot tears brim your eyes, causing you to click your tongue in frustration. Your throat feels tight, and the room begins to feel smaller than before. 

In the midst of your silent breakdown, you don’t notice when someone enters the room. You’re pulled out of your thoughts when you feel a hand on your shoulder, and your bed dips slightly behind you. The person scoots closer to you, and the comforting scent of lavender and the ocean becomes more apparent. 

It’s Megan. It’s always Megan. 

You let out a breath of relief at the realization, instinctively leaning into the girl’s touch, to which the girl snakes her arms around you, pulling you close. You close your eyes and hum in content, the anxiety suddenly washing away when you feel Megan hold you in her arms. 

“I can let them know you aren’t feeling well…” Megan’s voice is soft and filled with concern. You close your eyes as you feel Megan run her fingers through your hair. She places a soft kiss on the top of your head, the warmth radiating from her body comforting you. You can’t help the flush in your cheeks when you realize how close she is to you. You clear your throat, finding your voice again. You bury your face into Megan’s neck and murmur, “No, I can do it. Just give me a few minutes…” 

She rubs your back in response and nods. She says, “Let me help you with your uniform…” You roll your eyes at the mention of the gray uniform you are all forced to wear. You sigh, pulling yourself away from Megan, pouting at the loss of warmth. However, the moment you scoot away, Megan is already reaching towards you to grab your hand and lace your fingers together. 

It’s as if you’ve done this a million times already. You’re convinced you have. 

Megan gives your hand one last squeeze before standing up, walking towards the closet with a little bounce in her step. You giggle at her slight excitement and sniffle as you watch her sift through your clothes for the uniform. Megan pulls it out and carefully carries it to your bed. She places it down in front of you with a soft smile. Her eyes stay on you, and it causes you to look away from her with a blush on your cheeks. 

“What are you looking at?” Megan shrugs at your question, sitting back down on your bed. “You have updog on your face.” She deadpans, and you snort, looking up at the Chinese girl who grins widely at you. You swat at her arm playfully. “You’re so stupid.” You say, and Megan giggles loudly, her eyes turning into crescents and her whiskers evident on her cheeks. She sticks her tongue out at you. 

“Well, you’re stupider.” She says in a child-like tone. You roll your eyes, grabbing the uniform before getting up from your bed. You take a deep breath. 

Fate brought you here. Fate put this uniform in front of you. 

 Not only is Megan your safe space, but it seems as though you’re exactly that for her as well. 

You would watch the coaches tear Megan to shreds, pointing out her every flaw and every mistake. The coaching has become harsher, much more intense, and Megan has been on the short end of it. After their tirade finally ends for the day, the Chinese girl would turn her head towards you, a pleading look in her eyes. And you would only nod in understanding. 

You’d meet at Megan’s car and go to the spot you two claimed on the beach or the pier. The drive would be spent in silence, the only thing that could be heard is either Megan or your playlist playing while the windows are down. Once you get to the shore, you both take a seat in front of the thrashing waves, and you wait for her to tell you what was going through her head. 

But more often than not, she doesn’t tell you. She simply rests her head against your shoulder and tells you something more lighthearted. Something you’ve learned about your best friend is how hard she tries to avoid expressing how she truly feels.

You never push her in fear of crossing her boundaries, but you wish you could read her mind. You wish she confided in you the same way she confides in Emily or Adela. But being alone with her on those nights felt like enough. It should be enough. 

But this time was different. 

The drive to the beach felt more tense than usual. When you get to the shore, Megan immediately sits next to you, her legs pulled up to her chest with her chin resting on top of her knees. She doesn’t hesitate to tell you about the pain she has been feeling in her ankle. Your eyes widen slightly in surprise when she brings it up, having tried in the past to get her to understand the severity, but she always told you that everything was fine. 

But every time you saw her face contort into discomfort during practice, how she often collapsed to the ground once the routine ended, you knew that everything wasn’t fine at all. 

You adore how hardworking she is. However, it worries you how much she pushes herself. 

After listening to her speak, you place a hand on her back and rub it gently. You whisper, “You have to tell someone tomorrow, okay?” She only sighs in response and closes her eyes tightly. You watch a lone tear escape her eye. “I just… I just wanna be good, you know?” She admits, and you feel your chest begin to sting. You frown, scooting closer to her. You wrap an arm around her and pull her close, leaning your head against hers. 

“You’re already good. You’re so good.” You say quietly, and for a brief moment, Megan smiles. 

Her voice is soft as she responds, “Sometimes I wonder if this is actually worth it.” She wraps her arms around you and pulls you closer as she continues, her voice trembling, “Sometimes I wonder if this is actually gonna be everything I’d ever want.”  You sit there for a moment, letting her words sink in. This is the first time she has ever been so vulnerable with you, and you aren’t sure how to react. 

Your voice is quiet, but you hope it’s loud enough to show Megan that at least something has come out of the chaos. “I think… I mean. At least we have each other.” You look up at the sky as if you were making wishes on the stars. You continue with a whisper, “That means something, right?” 

It’s quiet. You begin to panic slightly, and you wonder if you said the wrong thing. You’re about to pull away, to ask her if everything was okay, but she only grabs your hand. She holds it tightly. It’s as if she let go, even for a moment, you would disappear. 

But you wouldn’t. You would never. 

She whispers back, “You’re my best friend, Y/n.”

A couple of weeks later, you sit in a conference room with the other girls, awaiting the results from voting and the judges. 

Your breath catches in your throat when you see you’ve earned immunity for the week. You glance at Megan, who avoids your gaze, and you feel your heart aching in your chest, scared of the events that will unfold right before everyone’s eyes. 

Soon after, it is Adela and Hinari who are eliminated first in the competition. 

You walk into the dorm with the others, the tension heavy and thick in the air. There’s a deafening silence amongst everyone, and you watch as all the girls flock to their groups, whispering. Some go into their rooms, wanting to keep their conversations private.

Before today, everyone was dedicated to each other. Now, with eliminations, it has become the real deal. There really is something worth losing in the end of all of this. 

You look around to try and find Megan, but she is nowhere to be found. You know Adela’s elimination would hit her the hardest– their friendship is close and tight-knit. So, it didn’t surprise you when you found her sitting outside the dorm, alone.

You approach her cautiously, your brows immediately furrowing when you notice she has been crying. You reach out to her to grab her hand, but Megan quickly gets up. She doesn’t meet your eyes as she hoarsely whispers, “I need to be alone, Y/n.” She crosses her arms and walks back inside, leaving you behind.

You stand there, confused by your best friend’s actions. You look around for a moment, and your lip begins to tremble, that familiar lump in your throat present. Your hands turn into fists as you finally release the sob you’ve been holding in since voting began. You want to run inside and find Megan, to find comfort. But she can’t even be around you right now. 

You wonder if this was all a mistake. 

Unbeknownst to you, this is only the beginning of what could be the end. However, you still believe in fate. You wished upon it. 

I. 

You walk up to Megan after practice one day, a small frown on your lips as you watch her pack her things. Her movements seem agitated as if she were to stay longer in the practice room, she would lose control completely. You reach out to her and gently place a hand on her shoulder.

Despite her distance from you, you know the other girl is going through so much mentally. You desperately want to show Megan that you’re there. That, just because Adela is gone, you are still in the competition. And you aren’t leaving her for anything. 

However, she tenses up at your touch, shrugging your hand off to continue her task. You pull away as if you had accidentally burned her. You fidget with your fingers in silence, unsure of what to do next. Megan zips up her bag and stands to her feet, swinging the bag over her shoulder.

When she turns around, she immediately widens her eyes, not expecting you to still be there behind her. “Y/n, what do you want?” She asks, a bit exasperated by your presence. The aching in your chest only grows tenfold at the pinch in her tone. You know she’s upset, but you also know you don’t deserve to be pushed away like this. 

You bite your lip to try and hide your hurt expression. You bite back what you want to say to her, what you want to confront her about, because you know Megan. And you know she’s hurting just as much as you are. Your eyes dart around the room to avoid her gaze and take a deep breath. “I just. I’m here for you.” You say with tears pooling in your eyes.

You shrug, suddenly feeling ridiculous for even trying. Your voice shakes as you speak again,  “I’m here for you, that’s all.” You look down at the ground and turn away from your best friend, knowing it’s best to give her the space she desires. As you walk away, you feel a hand wrap around your wrist, tugging you back forcefully. 

When you turn back around, you feel Megan place her hands on your cheeks, pressing her lips hard against yours. Your brain short-circuits at the unexpected turn of events. In the back of your mind, you know you should push her away. You know that this wasn’t what you both needed, especially this far into Dream Academy. But when she pulls away and looks up at you, desperate and breathless, nothing could stop you from pulling her into another kiss. 

It was deeper this time, your lips moving against hers messily. You feel her run her hands through your hair, and if this is what Megan needed, you were more than okay to oblige. 

The other girls were relieved to see you and Megan back to your normal dynamic.

The moment they saw you two enter the practice room together the next day, pinkies linked and smiles on your faces, they couldn’t help but feel as though everything was finally going to be okay. But this time around, it felt different, more charged.

They notice the secret glances across the room, the subtle touches during evaluations, and they try not to bat an eye when one of you leaves the room with the other following suit moments later. For everyone’s sake, they keep their questions to themselves. 

But after Mission 3, when you didn’t receive an invitation to move forward in the competition, they all held their breath. Everyone’s eyes land on Megan as if bracing for the impact that would soon follow. But she stayed where she was, not even taking a glance at you as your hands turned into tight fists. They all wondered if that was worse. 

You manage to keep yourself together when you get back to the dorms to pack your things. Once you finish, you throw yourself onto your now stripped bed. You couldn’t believe that your time in Dream Academy has come to an end. You stare up at your ceiling as a million thoughts run through your mind.

Megan, at some point, joins you and lies next to you. She reaches over you to place a hand on your cheek, turning your head so you can face her, and your heart breaks when you see the sadness in her eyes. You close the space between you two, kissing her softly. 

You don’t know what this is with her. But you hope it won’t change once you’re gone. 

Megan pulls away and rests her forehead against yours. She looks at you with her brown, puppy-dog eyes, and you can’t help but melt under her gaze. “Will you still text me when you’re gone?” She whispers, and the question makes you chuckle. You nod and place a hand on her shoulder, rubbing it comfortingly.

“Of course, why wouldn’t I?” Megan bites her lip in response, and you can tell she’s trying to contain her tears. You sigh, removing your hand from her shoulder to cup her cheeks with both hands. “I’ll call you all the time. You’ll be so sick of me.” She giggles, and it’s music to your ears. She raises her pinky in front of you, her expression becoming serious. 

“Promise you’ll call, Y/n L/n. I’m in your walls.” It’s your turn to laugh as you connect your pinky with hers, a sincere look in your eyes. You whisper, “I promise, weirdo.” Megan sticks her tongue out at you before raising your pinky to her lips, placing a soft kiss against your skin. 

She murmurs against your hand, “You’re my best friend, Y/n.” 

You have the urge to ask her if that’s all you are to her. If you two really are just best friends. But you didn’t want to risk the way she looks at you as if you were everything she had ever dreamed of. You opt for blissful ignorance despite how much it hurts to do so. 

“You’re my best friend, Megan.” 

II. 

You two sit on your spot at the pier together, looking up at the stars. Your shoulders are touching, and the proximity makes you feel lightheaded. The scent of her shampoo overwhelms your senses, and her perfume makes it a million times worse.

Usually, you welcome her company like this. But as she talks about the absolute most horrid date she ever went on, you can’t help but feel detached from her. She waves her hands animatedly as she complains about the boy she saw and how their time together just kept getting worse. You nod passively at every other word, only speaking when it feels right to do so. 

Megan notices the shift in your demeanor and rests her chin on your shoulder, looking at you with concern. “Sorry… I’ve said a lot…” You shake your head quickly, turning toward her with a small smile. “No, you’re okay. I’m just… Thinking.” She furrows her brows at your words and sits up.

She tilts her head and reaches out to you, putting her hand in yours. Megan squeezes gently. “Thinking about what?” She asks quietly. The question lingers in the air with only the sounds of the crashing waves being heard. You look away from the girl, your attention drawn to the rising tide. 

“You’re gonna be a popstar…” You hear yourself saying. What you actually want to tell her is that there has not been a day when you haven’t thought about what you two could be if given the chance. You want to tell her how your heart sinks every time she brings up a new date she went on.

There are so many things you wish you could tell Megan, but you trust that fate would make its rounds– that this is all according to plan. 

But, you do admit, the thought of your best friend becoming a celebrity runs through your mind every once in a while. After leaving Dream Academy, Megan tried her best to keep in contact with you despite always being busy doing one thing or the other. It led to many of your texts going unanswered, but she was always good about calling you after a long day, ranting about the latest thing that happened at the dorms or practice. 

But now, since officially earning her spot in the group, Megan has become busier than ever. She no longer calls you as often, and every few days, you’d receive a text from the girl, apologizing for not answering you sooner. 

It bothers you more than you like to admit, but this is everything she has ever wanted, so you’ve pushed your true feelings aside. 

She looks at you tiredly. You notice the bags underneath her eyes and how her smile doesn’t have its usual brightness. Her voice is hoarse as she speaks, “I’m gonna be a popstar… How fucking crazy.” She says the last part with a laugh, looking up at the sky. You stare at her with a worried expression. 

“Are you… Okay?” You find yourself asking, and Megan faces you again, forcing a smile. She nods, but you see right through her facade. You clasp a hand over hers, squeezing gently as if to tell her, “I’m here. I’ve always been here.” And you hope she hears every word. You sit there in silence, the sound of the breeze and waves is the only background noise. You decide not to say anything more, hoping your existence would be enough. 

God, you hope more than anything that your existence means something to Megan.

Suddenly, Megan pulls you into a tight embrace. Her hands grip the back of your sweater, and she buries her face into the crook of your neck. You respond immediately, wrapping your arms around her. You feel her tears against your neck, and you hold her even tighter, your head against her shoulder. You sit silently, allowing her to release the emotions she has had pent up for God knows how long. 

After a few minutes, Megan’s sobs have subsided, and you stay there in each other’s arms, not daring to let go. She keeps her grasp on your shirt as if afraid you might disappear again. Finally, she takes a deep breath, pulling away slightly to look at you with red and swollen eyes. You look back at her, helpless, unsure of how to make her pain go away. 

You don’t even think when you bring your hand up to her face, cupping her cheek gently. You use the pad of your thumb to wipe away the tears that are left. Megan leans into the touch, her eyes fluttering close. “Y/n?” She whispers. You notice how she closes her eyes tighter and her lips trembles as she continues, “I just– I– Fuck.” She struggles to get her words out. You hold your breath, your free hand resting on her knee as you wait patiently for her to finish her thought.

She takes a deep breath and opens her eyes. “I just wish Adela or Emily were here.” 

You retract your hand from her knee. Something about her words knocks the wind out of you. She doesn’t notice your pained expression and giggles, wiping the tears from her eyes. “I have to get a boyfriend or something so I don’t keep bothering you with my bullshit.” 

You force a smile and stand up, ignoring the way your heart twists and thrashes in your chest. “Shut up and take me back home.” You say, trying to compose yourself. You stretch your arms before offering Megan your hands, to which the Chinese girl accepts gratefully. You pull her up to her feet quickly, causing Megan to slip slightly on the pier beneath you. 

She grabs onto your shoulders tightly to regain her balance. Your eyes widen, and you wrap your arms securely around her waist, pulling her close. Your breath hitches slightly when Megan looks up at you, her brown eyes twinkling. She giggles, mumbling a quiet, “Sorry.” You shake your head in response, still looking into her eyes. Megan keeps your gaze, the smile on her face falling slightly as she realizes how close you two are.

Megan’s eyes flicker from your eyes to your lips for a split second, but you notice. 

It’s been months without her lips on yours, and it has been driving you crazy. 

You lean in slowly, your heart beating faster. Your eyes flutter close when Megan leans in as well, your noses brush against each other, and you can feel Megan’s breath become shallow. 

She tastes like cherries, not like the strawberry chapstick she always puts on. 

Her hands messily thread through your hair and pulls you closer. She sighs into the kiss, and it only spurs you on even more, grabbing her hips. You lose yourself in the way her lips move against yours, and you hope, in this moment, she forgets about everyone else. You deepen the kiss in an attempt to make sure she is only thinking about you. 

After a few moments, you pull away, breathless, and your cheeks flush. Megan looks at you, biting her lip. You look into each other’s eyes, and it frustrates you when you can’t read her expression. You just want, for once, for Megan to choose you. To look at you and realize you were right there, right in front of her, choosing her. 

But she turns away, skipping towards her car as if the events that just transpired didn’t happen. You take a sharp breath, feeling slightly betrayed by fate and its games. 

III. 

You find yourself being dragged to Emily’s birthday party. 

You weren’t too sure of going in the first place. After months of dwelling on a decision, you decided to enroll in a college in Los Angeles to stay close to the friends you made during Dream Academy. Now that you were a full-time student, you struggled to find a balance in your life. If you felt lost before, you were now deep in the trenches, trying to juggle school work with a social life. And to make things worse, you couldn’t help but feel as though your best friend was once again slipping through your fingertips. 

After their song blew up all over social media, it has become much harder to contact the now ginger girl. You couldn’t even remember the last time you saw Megan, despite living in the same city. With Katseye’s growing success, you knew it would bring change to your dynamic with the girl. But as the months began to pass, you started to see yourself as an afterthought to Megan. She wasn’t even the one who asked you if you were going to the party– it was Lara.

But against all odds, you decide to go. The night ends up being a bit of a blur. You decided to take an edible right before to calm your nerves, and now you lazily sit on one of the lawn chairs in front of a fire pit while everyone is lost in their own conversations. Karlee sits next to you, smoking a blunt you helped roll for her. 

You and the Japanese girl catch up with each other, giving updates on what has been missed since your last interaction. You can’t help but wonder why you never reached out to Karlee after Dream Academy. You remember her being a great friend to you, always sticking up for you when something distasteful would be said about you. 

At some point during the conversation, Karlee’s hand finds yours. She plays with your fingers absentmindedly as she complains about recent drama in her life. You listen in and out, becoming distracted every once in a while by Megan. 

You watch as she dances with Lara, Manon, and Emily. At some point, Daniela joins them, and so does Adela. But your eyes remain on the Chinese girl. You watch as the girl moves her hips to the song, getting lost in the rhythm. Your breath catches in your throat as you watch your best friend throw her head back, smiling. Her features are lit up by the fire, her ginger hair swaying along with her. You shift uncomfortably in your seat. You can’t believe how attractive Megan is, and you can’t believe how much it still affects you. 

You force yourself to look away, not wanting Karlee to pick up on your blatant staring. You’re relieved when you look back at the Japanese girl, and she’s still talking, unaware of your internal battle. You look at the blunt in Karlee’s hand and point at it. You smile lazily, your eyes slightly glazed over as you speak, “Can I take a hit?” Karlee looks at the blunt and nods, laughing softly. She is about to pass it over, but she takes it back with a mischievous glint in her eyes. She speaks up, her voice teasing, “Have you ever done a blowback?” 

The question throws you off guard, and it makes you think for a moment. You look at Karlee, tilting your head with a curious look in your eyes. You decide to play into the game, however. You shrug and say, “Once… Are you asking to do one?” The statement makes Karlee look away, surprised by your question. She scoots her chair closer to you and looks back to see a smirk on your lips, still waiting for Karlee to answer the question. 

For some reason, you feel bold in your interaction with Karlee. It’s a way for you to forget Megan and her avoidance of you, but you don’t want to admit that. You want the reason to be because Karlee is attractive, and she is giving you her undivided attention. 

You watch the Japanese girl nod her head in response and suddenly, your confidence begins to falter at the realization of the many people around you. The other Dream Academy girls were only a few feet away. But Karlee moves the chair so she is now sitting in front of you. She looks at you to see if you had any hesitation in your eyes, but she only sees the lazy look in them, a playful smile on your lips. 

It causes Karlee to giggle, and you raise a brow in response. You whisper, “What’s so funny?” Karlee shakes her head, responding just as quietly, “Nothing. Just… Look at me…” You do as you are told, and you look at Karlee, swallowing when you realize what’s going to happen. You watch as Karlee takes a long hit from the blunt and immediately looks into your eyes as she places her hands on your cheeks, her fingertips warm. 

Instinctively, you part your lips and watch as Karlee leans in closer, your noses brushing against each other. Your eyes don’t leave each other once Karlee begins to exhale while you inhale slowly. There’s a tension between you two, and you aren’t sure how to feel about it. You’re sure Karlee has finished, but neither of you pulls away. You watch Karlee’s eyes flutter close, and against all rational thoughts, you close yours as well, leaning in closer. 

However, before the moment can develop even further, you feel a weight in your lap and a pair of arms looping around your neck. You open your eyes, widening them when you see Megan with her puppy eyes staring down at you. You open and close your mouth, a bit at a loss for words. 

You watch Megan look over at Karlee, who doesn’t look very happy that the moment between you two was interrupted. There’s a playful glint in Megan’s eyes as she holds you tighter. She speaks up, a giggle in her voice, “Sorry… I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just needed to tell Y/n something…” Your cheeks redden when you feel the Chinese girl grip the back of your shirt. You wrap your arms around the girl’s waist, securing her in your lap. The action makes Megan look down at you with a soft smile and she begins to tell you about something she heard from Adela and Emily. 

You feel Megan run her fingers through your hair and you listen to every word she says. As if she is the only girl that exists. 

As if you didn’t almost kiss Karlee.

She pushes you up against the bathroom door, her lips finding yours in a heated kiss. 

Your hands instinctively grab her hips, pulling her closer as she desperately grips your shirt with her fists. Her lips move against yours in a rhythm that makes you feel lightheaded. The quiet noises she makes as you grip her hips tighter fill you with the need for more. 

Suddenly, she pulls away and looks at you with flushed cheeks and desire in her eyes. “I didn’t realize you and Karlee were that close.” Her words cause you to let out a breathy chuckle. 

“We’re talking about Karlee right now?” You ask, leaning down to press feather-light kisses against her neck. She sighs, and you feel her grip on your shirt loosen. Her fingers thread into your hair as she cranes her neck slightly to give you more access. “You guys just seemed really cozy, you know?” You hum against her neck, pulling away to look at her with an amused expression. 

You tilt your head and smile at her playfully. “Does it matter?” You challenge, suddenly feeling brave due to the rising tension between you two. Megan bites her lip and shakes her head. “I was just wondering…” She trails off, leaning up to kiss you again, but you don’t give her the chance, tilting your head away from her. Megan looks at you questioningly and places her hands on your shoulders. “What’s wrong?” 

You furrow your brows at her. You can’t help but think everything about this was wrong. The way she tries to avoid situations, the way she thinks she can kiss you and pretend it doesn’t mean anything. You begin to feel bitter when you remember how, before your almost-kiss with Karlee, Megan barely acknowledged your existence. And suddenly, none of this seems fair to you. 

“Admit it…” You say shakily. She looks at you with confusion written on her face. She opens her mouth to respond, but you quickly continue, finding your voice, “You’re jealous.” Megan immediately jumps away from you once she hears your words. She glares at you and whispers, “What the hell are you talking about?” You narrow your eyes.

“You’re jealous of Karlee because this means something to you.”

You stare at each other in silence. It’s as if you two were daring the other to say another word. 

“I gotta go.” You hear her say. She avoids your eyes, stepping forward and attempting to push you away from the door, but you keep your feet planted where they are. You can’t help the scoff that leaves your lips as you cross your arms over your chest, looking at her incredulously. “Why can’t we have a real conversation about this?” 

Megan’s cheeks turn red as she responds, her voice raised, “About what?” 

“You know what!” You yell, throwing your hands up in the air in agitation. “You know exactly what I’m talking about, Megan!” 

You feel hot tears spill from your eyes as you look at her, pleading for her to love you back. Megan bites her lip and looks down at the ground. She murmurs, “I can’t do this.” Your lips form a thin line as your hand reaches behind you, grabbing the handle to the door. You whisper, your voice breaking, “Tell me to stay. Please.” You shake your head frantically when Megan keeps her eyes on the ground. You take a deep breath, your grip on the handle tightening. “Megan… Tell me I’m not a second choice to you, please.” 

You look at Megan, a pleading look in your eyes. You don’t care how pathetic you look,  you just need to know if Megan still cares. You desperately want to know if this really wasn’t in your head the entire time, and that fate was still on your side. 

Her silence makes you slump your shoulders. Your eyes soften, and whatever fight you had left goes away. Your grip on the handle loosens, stepping away from the door so she can make her exit. She looks up at you with glistening eyes, and you simply force a smile. “I can’t leave. So, you can.” 

With no hesitation, Megan goes without another word. 

IV. 

You don’t hear from Megan after Emily’s party. You watch her life unfold through Instagram pictures and updates given by her other members. They don’t ask you about what happened, and you’re grateful. 

You felt as though you were grieving. She’s alive and happy and has everything she could ever want, and she was able to do it all without your help. 

A photo of her surfaces on your timeline, and it’s of her at a party with other influential people in Los Angeles. You stare at the photo of her mid-laugh with a drink in her hand. She seemed as though she was in her element, and you realized how far apart you were from the girl you fell in love with. 

Your phone buzzes with a notification, and you see it’s a message from Karlee. She asks if you are free to get coffee sometime. 

You tell her that you’re always free. That coffee sounds lovely. And that you’ll see her next Thursday. 

Fate sits in a locked box beneath your bed. It thrashes and screams and begs for another chance. But you have coffee with Karlee next Thursday, and that is how it will be. 

V. 

“Y/n, is it true you’re going to Hawaii to meet Karlee’s family?” 

It’s been a year since you last spoke to Megan, and she now sits across from you with Lara, her legs crossed, and her hair is now black with pink dyed bangs and tips. You can’t help, as you look at her, that she resembles the Megan you knew from Dream Academy. The one who struggled with her confidence and didn’t feel good enough for anything. Despite everything, you hope she feels differently. 

You hope she knows how beautiful she looks. 

Karlee rests her head against your shoulder and hugs your arm tightly. She leans up and kisses your cheek softly, causing you to smile. It doesn’t quite reach your eyes, but the Japanese girl chose you, and that’s what matters the most to you. 

You nod at Lara’s question, taking a sip from your drink. You feel Megan’s eyes on you, but you ignore her as you respond. “Yeah, we’re leaving in a few days…” You hear Karlee squeal excitedly next to you. She looks at the two girls with a wide smile on her face. “I’m gonna show them everything. They’ve never been, so it’ll be fun.” Lara smiles at Karlee, then looks at you. There’s a glint in her eyes that you can’t quite decipher. 

“Honestly, I always thought it would be Megan who would take Y/n.” You know it’s a joke, but you can’t help but wince at her words. You glance at the Chinese girl who seems to be deep in thought. You fight the urge to ask her if she’s okay. But you know it isn’t your place to ask– she made that clear to you. Karlee laughs at Lara’s words and takes a sip from her drink. You feel her tug at your sleeve, and you look at your girlfriend, who looks back at you with adoration, with so much love that you can’t help but feel guilty for wanting to check on Megan. 

She inches her face closer to yours and says, “Come with me to get another drink?” You nod, smiling when she gets up from the couch and holds her hand out to you. You take one more look at Lara, then at Megan. “It’s nice seeing you guys again.” Megan looks at you with an expression you’ve never seen on her face before. It almost looks like longing, but you know better than to overanalyze. You take Karlee’s hand and allow her to pull you to your feet. She kisses you softly before pulling you away from the girls. From Megan. 

A few minutes have passed since the conversation with you and Karlee, but Megan stays where she is on the couch. She leans her back against it, her mind running chaotically. She glances over at you standing with Karlee and Adela and notices a subtle sullen look in your eyes. The usual twinkle in them seems dim, and Megan wants more than anything to go up to you and ignite that light. But she knows it isn’t her place anymore. Megan made her choice, she made her decisions. 

Megan looks down at the drink in her lap, biting her lip. She thinks about how she accidentally walked into your dorm on that first day. She remembers how there was a time when it would be you and her against the world. No one saw you two separated because you were always right there with her every step of the way. You never left her, even when she pushed you away. 

She looks up again, and her breath hitches when her eyes meet yours. You stare at her for a moment before smiling softly. There’s a twinkle in your eyes, and it reminds her of the day you walked up to her outside the Geffen building. 

The voices of everyone else, the loud conversations, are all tuned out in this moment. Megan only sees you. 

And suddenly, it all starts to click. 

That day, and everything else after, was fate. 

I. 

You: cant believe u left this place wtf

You: it’s so beautiful!!!!

Megan stares at the messages from you, a small smile on her face. She can’t help but feel a bitterness starting to fester in the pit of her stomach. 

Megan: had to chase my dreams :) 

Megan: im glad ur having fun!

After Karlee’s party, she decided to reach out to you, not expecting a response. However, you welcomed the message with open arms. It was as if she hadn’t done anything wrong. But Megan knew something was different. She knew this time around, it wouldn’t be how it used to be. 

You: so much fun!! 

Megan: go surfing for me? 

When Megan first met you, she knew deep down you’d change her life somehow. But you wove yourself so deep into it that it scared Megan. She was scared of something so real and raw, something that would force her to show the sides of herself that she tries so hard to hide. 

But she would have dropped everything she had ever worked for in a heartbeat for you. And maybe that’s why she pushed you away. 

Megan: also take pics of everything bc i miss it sm

Megan: only if u can ofc

Because why does a person like that exist? A person you’d give everything up for? Why would someone do something so stupid? Especially when they’re just so close? 

Megan: can i ask u something?

Megan: it’s a weird question LOL

But no one told her she could have chosen you and have everything in between. Fate hadn’t caught up to her yet, and she could only blame herself for being a coward. 

You: yeah what’s up?

Megan: r we still like… friends? 

Megan lies in her bed that night wearing an old hoodie of yours that no longer holds your scent. She feels tears brim in her eyes as she thinks about you being with Karlee. Her heart breaks at the thought of you being in Hawaii with Karlee and not her. 

You: ur my best friend, meg. always. 

Megan: ur mine always too, y/n 

She stares at her ceiling and thinks about your hand in hers, your soft smile, the way you stay every single time. 

She wonders if fate will ever come back. She’d take it back and never leave again. 

Megan: can you call? 

You: cant rn. gonna hang out w karlee’s fam :) 

You: talk to you later? 

Megan sends a response that makes her heart ache in her chest. 

Megan: yeah, i’ll wait for you <3

a/n: im back n im making it everyone's problem >:) this was my attempt at megan angst oops i hope u all enjoyed....... i promise megan fluff soon!! <3

requests are open

[caffeinatedvigilantewriter]

So I saw a post with art about Paulina and Damian being twins in spirit and I thought it was so GOOD AND I CANYVGWY IT OIT OF MY HEADDD

So Paulina and Damian were born in the Leauge, and because Paulina was the girl and the youngest she was treated more harshly out of the two.

Talia couldn’t take it and took Paulina to the states and put her up for adoption and told Ra’s she had died. Damian and Paulina were 5

Damian grew up without his twin, believing she died. He moved in with his father when he was 9 and didn’t mentioned because what was the point of mentioning someone who wasn’t even alive anymore. He also wanted to preserve her memory, he knew his sister as a firce warrior, and the family’s grief and pity would hurt the image he had of her in his mind

So, when Damian is 15 and is banned from patrol for one reason or another he’s in the batcave, looking over the paper work from the MCOA (meta children of America, a program to try and locate meta children with powers to help them gain control and stability) and discovers two extremely powerful metas in Illinois.

Danny Fenton and Paulina Sanchez

(I think they got flagged as a meta because Danny is a halfa and Paulina spent her early childhood years around the pits and amity, she would be affected)

At first, looking at Paulinas photo hurt him, because she looks so much like his sister.

And he realizes that she is his sister.

Without telling anybody, he boards the next flight to Amity.

Paulina’s life as a civilian was jarring compared to the LOA. She had figured out Fentons identity almost immediately and (for fun) decide to pretend to be obsessed with him.

And when the school had them submit their DNA for the MCOA test, she was a bit worried, but here was nothing she could do at the time.

After the LOA didn’t come knocking, she figured she as safe.

Until she was sitting in Lancers class and her twin brother walking the room.

She doesn’t know that he’s not with the League, so she thinks he going to bing her and she not about to return.

So she brawls him in the middle of class.

They keep fighting, Damian fighting on defense, and Paulina digging on offense until Damian chokes out that he’s not with his mother any more and he’s with his father now

Paulina: oh we have a dad now? How is he

Damian: stupid

Paulina: you must take after him! What his name?

Damian: Bruce Wayne

Paulina: 🫢

Unfortunately, someone records the entire brawl and posts it on social media before they realize, and suddenly the Waynes are in Amity and so is the League.

And once the League takes one look at Phangom with his ectoplasmic abilities like the Lazarus pit they also attempt to capture him.

So now not only does the whole world know that there’s another Wayne girl, but that Damian and Paulina were raised in a cult and that Ghosts are real.

So Paulina and Danny take shelter in Gotham with the Wayne’s and JLA protecting them (the LOA is one of the JLAs enemies)

(Danny x Damian!!)

[wandaslovey]

some ldr!wanda headcannons !!

(might do a part 2 to this 🤭 this is 100% self indulgent)

*for those who may not know, ldr stands for: long distance relationship :3*

ldr!wanda met you on some dating app a friend of hers set up unbeknownst to her. when she found out, she was slightly peeved, but after opening the app and seeing that a cute thing like you messaged her, she decided to say fuck it and go for it

ldr!wanda was hesitant at first to pursue something with you given the hundreds of miles spaced between the two of you, and your age gap (you being in your 20s and wanda in her mid 30s). however, truth be told, she can’t help but find your youthfulness endearing. not to mention the fact you were still quite wise and level headed for your age

ldr!wanda asked you to be her girlfriend just one month after talking. despite the distance and how it might seem unfair to “claim” someone who was so far away; she couldn’t help herself. she needed you to be hers

ldr!wanda calls you every night (without fail) to talk to you about your day. she wants to know every. single. detail. she loves hearing you speak. your tone, voice inflections and cute little giggles when you find something you said funny

ldr!wanda likes to facetime you in the morning when you’re getting ready. it just so happens that she is on her first break at work by the time you’re out of bed and going about your day. she learns after not too long that you like when she picks out your outfits for you - which she happily likes to dress you up like her little doll (even if it’s over the phone)

ldr!wanda was surprised when her seemingly innocent girl sent her the very first provocative photo. little did she know, there was a whole other side to you she had yet to uncover

ldr!wanda was quick to take control, assuming a more dominant role once she learned your burning need to submit. she created a list of rules for you, personalized and reasonable - and let’s not forget, a list of punishments when you disobey

ldr!wanda’s favorite way to punish you when you’re naughty is to force you to watch her touch herself over facetime while you have to sit there and pant pathetically all while being sure both your hands remain in your lap on the camera. her second favorite punishment is to log into your shared “vibe” app and turn on the vibrator you so carefully placed inside yourself at her command. she turns it on periodically throughout the day, controlling the speed, rhythm and duration. (the only reason this is her second favorite is because she can’t see your reactions)

[unabashegirl]

Love Island — part 8

AU. Based on the TV show.

Author's note: GUYS THANK YOU! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL THE SUPPORT! EKKK I AM SO HAPPY! Please, please don’t hesitate to send in your requests — whether it’s blurbs, one-shots, or even just a fun idea you want to see come to life. If you're feeling a little shy, no worries at all — you can always send them in anonymously through Tumblr! I’d love to hear from you and create more content you’ll enjoy 🌞💌

⭐️ Please consider joining my Patreon -> Patreon

⭐️ Please consider submitting your one shot request -> Forms

⭐️ Love Island masterlist -> ML

The evening sun was dipping below the horizon, painting the villa in hues of gold and pink. Most of the Islanders were scattered around, some in the kitchen, others laughing on the daybeds. Harry and Y/N had slipped away to the edge of the pool, their feet dangling in the cool water.

Y/N swirled her foot in lazy circles, watching the ripples spread across the surface. She glanced at Harry, who was leaning back on his palms, looking unusually relaxed.

“You’re quiet,” she said softly, breaking the comfortable silence.

Harry shrugged, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “Rare, isn’t it?”

“Very. Almost suspicious.”

He chuckled, letting his head fall back to look at the sky. “Just thinking. This place is mad, isn’t it? Feels like a bubble. Like nothing outside of it even exists.”

Y/N tilted her head. “Do you miss it? The outside world?”

Harry considered the question for a moment. “Yeah, sometimes. But not for the reasons you’d think. I don’t miss my phone or the distractions. I miss my mates, the ones who know me properly, you know? And my mum—she’s probably yelling at the telly every time I do something stupid.”

Y/N laughed, her eyes crinkling. “She sounds brilliant.”

“She is,” Harry said with a fond smile. “She’s the kind of mum who’ll tell you when you’re being an idiot but then hug you so tight you forget why you were upset in the first place. What about you? Who’s out there rooting for you?”

Y/N hesitated, her fingers skimming the water. “My sister, mostly. She’s younger but acts like she’s older. Always giving me advice like she’s lived through it all before me.”

“Bet she’s proud of you, though. You’re smashing it in here,” Harry said, his tone sincere.

Y/N smiled faintly. “She’d probably tell me to stop overthinking everything and just go for what I want. She’s fearless like that. Me? I like to think things through, plan it out. I’m a bit of a control freak, if I’m honest.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Control freak, really? You hide it well.”

“Do I?” Y/N chuckled. “I don’t know. I just… I like stability. Predictability. The idea of letting go and just… diving into something scares the hell out of me.”

Harry shifted, leaning closer. “You don’t seem scared. You’ve been holding your own in here, standing your ground.”

“Yeah, well, appearances can be deceiving,” Y/N said with a wry smile.

They fell into a brief silence, the sounds of laughter and clinking glasses drifting over from the main villa.

“What about you?” Y/N asked. “What scares you?”

Harry exhaled, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “Letting people down, I think. I’ve always felt this… pressure to be the guy who’s easygoing, dependable, the one everyone likes. But sometimes, it feels like I’m just going along with what people expect, instead of what I actually want.”

Y/N studied him, her expression softening. “That sounds exhausting.”

“It can be,” Harry admitted. “But it’s easier than disappointing people, you know? I don’t like conflict. Hate it, actually.”

Y/N nodded slowly. “That explains a lot.”

Harry turned to her, his lips twitching into a small smile. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just that you’re good at deflecting. Like, you’ll joke or charm your way out of anything uncomfortable,” she said, nudging him with her shoulder. “It’s clever, but not foolproof.”

“Touché,” Harry said, laughing lightly.

They fell quiet again, the weight of the conversation settling between them.

“You know,” Y/N said after a moment, her voice softer, “maybe being in here is a good thing. It’s forcing us to slow down, think about who we are without all the noise. I mean, when else would you sit by a pool and have this kind of chat?”

Harry smiled, his eyes meeting hers. “True. And maybe it’s not so bad, not knowing exactly what’s next.”

Y/N’s gaze lingered on him, a faint smile playing on her lips. “Maybe not.”

The sun dipped further, casting the pool in deep shades of blue and purple. The moment hung there, quiet and unspoken, as if the villa itself had paused to take a breath.

Harry shifted closer, the tips of his fingers brushing against hers where they rested on the edge. She didn’t pull away, her breath catching slightly as the small touch sent a shiver through her.

“You know,” Harry began, his voice quieter now, “I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way before.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. She turned to him, their faces closer now, the light catching in his hazel eyes. “What way?”

“Like...” Harry paused, searching for the right words. “Like I can’t think straight when you’re around. Like nothing else matters as long as I know you’re good. I’ve never cared this much about someone this quickly.”

Y/N blinked, his confession washing over her, leaving her speechless. She swallowed, her voice barely above a whisper. “You really mean that?”

“Course I do,” Harry said, his gaze unwavering. “I know I can mess things up sometimes, say the wrong thing, but...with you, I don’t want to get it wrong. I want to get it right.”

Her chest tightened, a mix of emotions swirling inside her—vulnerability, hope, and something deeper she couldn’t quite name. Slowly, she reached out, her hand resting against his cheek. His skin was warm beneath her palm, and he leaned into her touch, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment.

“I’m not good at this stuff either,” Y/N admitted, her voice trembling slightly. “But I don’t want to mess it up either. And I don’t want to lose...this.”

“You won’t,” Harry said firmly, his hand coming up to cover hers on his cheek. “Not if we’re both in it.”

Y/N smiled softly, her thumb brushing along his jawline. “I’m in it, Harry. As long as you are.”

He didn’t respond with words. Instead, he leaned in, his free hand cupping the back of her neck gently as their foreheads touched. His breath mingled with hers, the moment stretching out, fragile and perfect.

When their lips finally met, it was slow and tender, like they were savoring the connection they’d both been craving. Harry’s hand slid to her waist, pulling her closer as the kiss deepened, the world around them fading entirely.

Y/N’s fingers curled into his hair, her body pressing against his. The coolness of the water on their feet contrasted with the heat of the moment, a perfect balance that mirrored their emotions.

When they finally pulled away, their foreheads remained pressed together, both of them breathing heavily but smiling softly.

Harry chuckled, his voice low. “You’re dangerous, you know that?”

“Dangerous?” Y/N teased, her cheeks flushed.

“Yeah.” He kissed the tip of her nose, his grin widening. “You’ve got me completely hooked.”

Y/N laughed, her heart feeling lighter than it had in days. “Good. Because I feel the same.”

The sound of laughter and voices from the villa began to drift toward them, but for now, by the edge of the pool, it felt like they were the only two people in the world.

"Well, folks, love is in the air—or is it the tension? Either way, someone’s about to get their heart racing faster than a lad in a Zara sale. Let’s see how this one plays out”

Sophia, who had been sitting on a nearby lounger with Amber and Chloe, suddenly felt her phone buzz in her hand. The familiar ding that sent a ripple of excitement and nerves through the group made everyone freeze.

“Oh, here we go,” Lucas said, grinning as he leaned back in his chair. “What’s the damage this time?”

Sophia stood up, clearing her throat as all eyes turned to her. She glanced at the phone and then at the group, a sly smile creeping onto her lips.

“Islanders,” she began, her voice ringing out, “tonight, there will be a recoupling.”

A collective gasp went up, followed by murmurs of speculation. Harry’s gaze darted to Y/N, who was already sitting up straighter, her expression calm but her fingers gripping the edge of her seat.

Sophia continued, her voice louder now. “And I have first choice.”

The murmurs turned into louder chatter, some Islanders exchanging wide-eyed glances while others sat in stony silence.

"Ooh, first choice for Sophia? That’s like handing her the keys to the fireworks cupboard. Let’s hope she doesn’t burn down the villa." Ian’s commentary echoed in the minds of the audience, no doubt stirring up anticipation across living rooms everywhere.

Sophia smirked as she lowered the phone, her eyes briefly scanning the group. “Guess it’s going to be an interesting night.”

The tension hung thick in the air, the Islanders already bracing themselves for what was sure to be a dramatic recoupling. Y/N, though outwardly composed, felt her heart racing. Harry reached over and brushed his fingers against hers for the briefest of moments—a silent reassurance that they were in this together.

"Recouplings, eh? They’re like Marmite—you either love ’em or hate ’em. But one thing’s for sure: someone’s going to be left with a bitter taste."

Y/N sat at the edge of her bed, twisting her fingers together as the chatter of the Islanders preparing for the recoupling echoed faintly in the background. Her stomach was in knots, the morning’s conversation with Sophia replaying on a loop in her mind.

Sophia’s smug words echoed, “You’re cute when you’re defensive. But let’s not pretend, yeah? Harry’s got options. And three days isn’t a lot of time to lock anything down. I’d be careful if I were you” Y/N hated how those words had burrowed into her thoughts, refusing to let go.

She glanced across the room to where Harry was standing, adjusting his shirt in the mirror. He looked calm—confident, even. That only made her anxiety worse. What if Sophia chose him anyway? What if he…

“Lovie?”

Harry’s voice broke through her spiraling thoughts. She hadn’t even noticed him cross the room until he was kneeling in front of her, his hands gently cupping her face. His thumbs brushed over her cheeks as his eyes searched hers.

“What’s wrong?” he asked softly, his brows furrowed with concern. “You’ve been quiet since Sophia got that text.”

Y/N swallowed hard, her lips parting as she tried to find the right words. His touch was grounding, but the fear in her chest was still there, stubborn and heavy. She hesitated for a moment before turning her head slightly and pressing a soft kiss to the palm of his hand.

“It’s just…” She took a deep breath, meeting his gaze. “I’m scared. About tonight. About her.”

His brows knit together further. “Sophia?”

“She’s not going to give up on you,” Y/N whispered, her voice barely audible. “Even though you’ve told her how you feel, I know she’s going to pick you. And I just…” She paused, blinking rapidly to keep her emotions in check. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Harry’s expression softened as he moved closer, his hands sliding down to hold her shoulders firmly. “Y/N, listen to me,” he said, his tone steady and reassuring. “You’ve got nothing to worry about. I told you where I stand, yeah? I want to be with you. Not her. You.”

Y/N bit her lip, still uncertain. “But what if she doesn’t care about that? What if she tries to force your hand? What if—”

“Hey,” Harry interrupted gently, his hands sliding back up to cradle her face again. He tilted her chin so she couldn’t look away. “I’m not going anywhere. Not for anyone else. Especially not her.”

Her breath hitched as she looked into his eyes, the sincerity there easing some of the weight on her chest. She nodded slightly, though the worry lingered.

“I’m serious,” he added, his voice a little firmer now. “You mean too much to me, Y/N. Don’t let her get in your head. She doesn’t decide what happens between us—we do.”

Y/N felt a small smile tug at her lips despite herself. His words felt like a balm to her frayed nerves, and for the first time all evening, she allowed herself to believe them.

“Okay,” she whispered, her voice steadier now.

Harry smiled back, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her lips. “Good. Now, let’s go out there and show her she doesn’t stand a chance.”

Y/N nodded again, her heart lighter as she let him pull her to her feet. Whatever happened tonight, she knew she wasn’t facing it alone.

The Islanders gathered around the fire pit, the glow of the flames reflecting off their faces. The girls sat on the benches, their nerves visible in the way they shifted in their seats or smoothed down their dresses. The boys stood in a line, hands in their pockets or clasped in front of them, trying to look calm while the tension crackled in the air.

Y/N sat toward the end of the bench, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Her heart raced as she tried to focus on her breathing, but her nerves were getting the better of her. Sophia stood in front of the fire pit, her phone buzzing in her hand.

She held it up triumphantly. “I’ve got a text!”

The group quieted instantly, all eyes on her as she cleared her throat and read aloud.

“‘Sophia, it’s your turn to choose which boy you want to couple up with. Please step forward and make your decision.’”

A murmur rippled through the group, but Y/N stayed silent, her stomach knotting. She risked a glance at Harry, standing toward the middle of the line. He met her gaze for a moment, his eyes soft but unreadable, before looking back toward Sophia.

Sophia stepped forward, her smile confident as she surveyed the boys. She let her gaze linger on each of them for just a second too long, clearly reveling in the attention.

“Well,” she began, “this hasn’t been the easiest choice, but I’ve decided to go with my gut. I want to couple up with someone I feel a strong connection with, and someone I can see myself building something real with.”

Y/N’s grip on her dress tightened, her knuckles turning white. She could hear Chloe whisper beside her, “She wouldn’t dare, would she?”

Sophia’s eyes landed squarely on Harry, her smile growing. “The boy I’d like to couple up with is… Harry.”

Gasps and murmurs broke out around the fire pit. Y/N felt her chest tighten, her pulse pounding in her ears.

Ian’s voice came in sharp and amused. “Oh, here we go, folks. Sophia tossing the grenade, and Y/N’s face says it all.”

Harry’s expression hardened, his jaw clenching as the group’s attention turned to him. He hesitated, clearly caught off guard. Lucas muttered something under his breath, and one of the boys patted Harry’s shoulder in solidarity.

Sophia raised an eyebrow, her confidence flickering slightly as she waited for Harry to step forward.

“Come on, then,” she said, her tone light but firm.

Harry glanced toward Y/N, who stared straight ahead, her lips pressed tightly together. Her composure was slipping, but she was determined not to let it show.

Ian’s voice added another quip. “Harry, mate, I’d move quickly before that fire pit gets even hotter.”

Reluctantly, Harry stepped forward, his movements slow and deliberate. He stood beside Sophia, his posture stiff and his gaze distant. Sophia linked her arm through his, beaming triumphantly.

On the bench, Y/N felt Chloe nudge her in silent support, but it didn’t help. The sting of Sophia’s choice, and Harry standing there beside her, was almost too much to bear.

This wasn’t just a game anymore. It felt like war.

--> part 9

...

let me know if you would like to be tagged!

TAGLIST: @st-ev-ie, @harrystyleshotwife, @valuunit, @familyshow-orisit, @ellaorchard, @loverryxo, @dashingday, @harrystyles1d52, @stylessbean, @gem1712, @girlontheblock, @readingrockstar23, @vikiii07, @georgiarose94, @goldycherries, @ellastyles13, @txmhxllqnd, @sooverwhitesandpinks, @matildasatellite, @vixenbarbie, @cathy-1997

[pupyuj]

tha photo of yujin with her bulge out but her hands toed behind her back nd her pants at her thighs, teasing and edging her with your mouth while she squirms ugh 😩

can’t wait to get my empathy albums just to stare at her handsomely pretty face in the “and us” version 😋 MY BABYBOY 💕💕

[cw: g!p yujin, blowjob, breeding.]

i fear this is the most experimental yujinnie can get before she starts getting scared 😭 bcs come on… binding up her hands when all she wants to do all the time is touch you? teasing her and having the upper hand when she usually has all that power? ohh the lack of control would make her head hurt but she can’t deny that the main reason she’s hard as a rock is bcs of the situation you’ve put her in and all the things you’re doing to her.. 🤭

oh it would be torture! between you being annoying and leaving a bunch of kiss marks all over her thighs and the lack of attention her cock was getting, yujin would get increasingly agitated but she was too proud to beg to be pleasured 😒 and you knew just what you were doing to her too, which was the worst part of it all… looking up at her with the fakest innocent eyes yujin has ever seen, acting like you weren’t so fucking delighted that you even got yujin in a situation where you would force her hand and submit to you for once… oh, this was perfect!! 🥰💕

watching relief wash over yujin’s face once you finally wrap your perfect lips around the head of her cock, sucking so painfully slow but it was definitely way better than you refusing to be anywhere near it at all… her moans getting louder and louder the deeper you take her cock inside your mouth, her head thrown allll the way back, letting you see all the pretty hickeys you left on her neck earlier 🥺💓 sucking her off so good to the point that her thighs start twitching and she starts looking at you with pleading eyes but your tap her calves to remind her that she made a promise not to cum until you want her to… and ofc, yujin has no other choice but to obey her princess 😚😚

it all gets better and worse when you start using your tongue which you are unfortunately so fucking good at that yujin would actively struggle against the restraints on her hands bcs god she wanted to take over so fucking bad!! babbling nonsense with tears in the corners of her eyes, feeling like she was going to lose her fucking head when you somehow even thought of grinding your needy cunt on her shoe and actually fucking doing it, which only happened bcs yujin looked so good from where you were watching her that you couldn’t resist your own needs 🥺

and when you did finally let yujin cum, she barely allows herself to recover before demanding you to untie her 😵‍💫😵‍💫 it was scary undoing the bindings on her hands, but only bcs you were afraid that you might have gone overboard and hurt yujin more than please her ☹️ but yujin made sure to assure you that you did please her well—not by words but in the form of making you ride her cock until midnight, and until you felt absolutely full of her cum 🤭 it was the second easiest way for yujin to say thank you 🫣

[yuurei20]

how muscle is the boy and who the most buff because i think silver gym clothes is lying

Hello hello! Thank you so much for this question! I have been hoping to talk about this for so long ⚔️

There is something special about the school uniform and gym clothes cards 👀

Summary 1) Sprites do not always visually represent what is actually happening in the game 2) Yana does not have full control over what can appear as sprites 3) Yana illustrated the gym clothes and school uniform cards from start to finish by herself!

Details/Sources 1) There is sometimes a disconnect between what the sprites are doing and what is actually happening in the stories, as the limits of the medium mean that they can only portray so much.

We will be told via dialogue that what is actually happening is different from what we're seeing on screen, which is where the "novel" part of "visual novel" has to do some heavy lifting.

(above: We are told that Idia is riding Ortho, Jack has tanned and Kalim is wearing glasses, without anything represented visually.)

This is also true of Silver being unusually well-muscled, with characters referencing such repeatedly! (especially in Book 7, for spoiler-reasons that cannot be shared on this blog)

(Ortho: "Silver is also incredibly built!")

In a vignette Silver explains he was able to beat a man in an arm-wrestling contest who had successfully beaten several "burly" members of Savanaclaw:

"All of Ruggie's burly friends had tried, but each lost within seconds. At first the owner went easy on me. Worried he would hurt me, he said. But once he realized I was no pushover, he stopped holding back...It was no easy feat, but all their encouragement helped me eke out a victory."

As for how Silver can possibly be so well-muscled, he explains it is from life with Lilia:

"I've never really struggled with anything involving physical fitness...my daily life back home was training enough. Drawing river water, chopping firewood...Chasing around the animals who lived nearby must have helped strengthen my legs as well...once I stalled while climbing a sheer cliff, and (Lilia) climbed right up beside me to show me how it should be done."

2) In a tweet posted on 2020/5/12 Yana talks about submitting her idea for Crowley to be wearing a vacation outfit in Book 4, despite expecting it to be rejected.

So it seems that she does not have complete control over how the sprites look: she designs the characters but is maybe not doing the game development work of physically implementing them, and there are others who can approve of or reject her ideas based on in-game limitations.

Was a canon-accurate Silver sprite maybe one of those rejections?

Effort was even made to give Silver muscle in the 2nd anniversary PV, so it does seem to be an important point.

3) We do not know too many details about the team that is helping Yana with card illustrations but we know they have been there from the beginning, with the recently released English-version of the first visual book (called "The official art book" in English) providing translations of Yana's notes to the colorists for the ceremonial robes and labwear art.

(Above: hand-written notes seen on Kalim's labwear and ceremonial robes base art)

She also references a graphic artist in her 2020 interview for the Magical Archives:

"As for the illustrations, this was my first time having my original drawings cleaned up by a graphic artist. I am a very rough draftsman by nature, and I make overall corrections before a piece is complete. No matter how careful I am in my original drawings, sometimes details get confused, so whenever I receive a draft back from the graphic artist, I become a useless original artist who is constantly going back to say, ‘I am so sorry, but can you please make these corrections?’" - Toboso Yana (Magical Archives game guide)

But the gym clothes and school uniforms (the original batch of R cards) were different: Yana says she did them all by herself from start to finish, as they were going to be most people's first introductions to the characters.

Disney Twisted-Wonderland has been released today.  ・Character design ・Main scenario creation ・Card illustration (all rarities / including finishing for the R cards) ・Supervision of personal scenarios (writing several as well) I handled everything above. I hope you enjoy it! - Toboso Yana (Twitter, 2020/5/8)

I felt that the initial R school uniforms and sportswear cards are special, as they are likely to be the first introductions to these characters, so I was in charge of them all. I am grateful to have been trusted with them. - Toboso Yana (Twitter, 2020/4/13)

So there we are! 🥳

If anything we can maybe consider the base card art for the gym clothes and school uniforms as more "canon" than the sprite designs of those same characters, even though the sprites are what we're used to seeing, as card art is not being forced to change the characters' appearances in order to fit the limitations of Live 2D sprites ⚔️ Maybe!

(The sprites have this same issue with height! In the game Epel is made taller while Malleus is made shorter, in order to fit his horns in the screen.)

[alewritesfics]

Bridging realities

ℑℑℑ.- 𝔅𝔯𝔦𝔡𝔤𝔦𝔫𝔤....𝔫𝔢𝔴 𝔭𝔞𝔱𝔥𝔰

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Word count: 2.1k

Tags: unedited, slow burn, eventual smut/ spicy scenes, some angst but happy ending, playful banter

Summary: in which Y/N's slight actions start to- or you'll see on your own.... His POV

⏮️ ⏸️ ⏭️

The night air was cool against Anthony’s skin as he stepped onto the garden, a welcome reprieve from the stifling confines of the ballroom. The distant hum of laughter and music filtered through the open doors, but out here, the world was quiet. Peaceful.

He leaned against the balustrade, running a hand through his hair and exhaling sharply. The evening had been relentless—a parade of bright-eyed ladies and their overly enthusiastic mothers, each vying for his attention, each more determined than the last.

And then there was her.

Anthony’s brow furrowed as his thoughts returned to Miss Featherington. She was unlike the others—sharp, playful, and entirely unpredictable. Most women he encountered were eager to flatter, eager to please, but she… She teased him. She wasn’t afraid to speak her mind, and for reasons he couldn’t quite understand, it both infuriated and intrigued him.

He could still feel the warmth of her hand in his, the way her gaze had met his so boldly, so unflinchingly. It had been a long time since someone had looked at him like that—not as a title, not as a prize to be won, but as a man.

Anthony shook his head, trying to dismiss the thought. He couldn’t afford to be distracted, not when his responsibilities weighed so heavily on him. His family’s future depended on his choices, and his choices had to be logical and calculated. There was no room for impulsive emotions, no room for the kind of connection Miss Featherington seemed to inspire.

And yet…

He closed his eyes briefly, letting the cool breeze brush against his face. He’d always prided himself on his control, on his ability to compartmentalize his feelings and focus on what truly mattered. But tonight, something about her had unsettled him.

“Bridgerton!” his eyes opened as he was called, he turned his name to see a gentleman he was acquainted with (Honestly I forgot the names of them and am too lazy to search so they’ll be man 1,2 and 3)

He sighed, annoyed his alone time was interrupted but walked towards them nonetheless. “I owe you a drink” man 1 said

“Whatever for?” Anthony asked, looking between the three of them

“With you as the prize catch of the season, the rest of us shall receive a respite from the marriage minded mamas this season indeed” man 1 smirked

“Enjoy your freedom while it lasts” Anthony responded “You, too, will soon submit to this ridiculous rigmarole of courtship,” The doors opened a few feet away, a young beautiful lady walking out without their knowledge. “Squiring every eligible miss around town until you’re barely able to see straight”

“Is one lady unlike any other?” man 2 asks “Simply pick the least objectionable and get her wed, bed and bred. Then you can turn to more pleasurable pursuits”

“And more pleasurable partners” The lady walked down the stairs, quietly walking behind a big bush to listen more closely “You may be cavalier, but if I must leg shackle myself in marriage, the lady in question should have more to recommend her”

“Do not tell us you are hoping for a love match?” Man 1 jokes

“Love is the last thing I desire,” Anthony denied “But if my children are to be of good stock, then their mother must be of impeccable quality. A pleasing face, an acceptable wit, genteel manners enough to credit a viscountess” Anthony was surprised as the words left his mouth, remembering a questionably intriguing redhead said that was what he was looking for. His lips twitched slightly but he composed himself “It should not be hard to find, and yet, the debutantes of London fall short at every turn”

“You want the best. Perhaps the queen will finally name a diamond. Save you some trouble, at least of choosing her, wooing the piece is a different story indeed” Man 2 stated

“I should have no problem there” Anthony crossed his arms smugly, making the men laugh

Man 1 patted himself, “Smoking room, gentlemen?”

“I Shall be there anon” Anthony told them before the three men left, leaving him alone.

Anthony was about to leave when the sound of someone bumping into something stopped him “Is someone there?” he asked, looking back. He walked down the stairs, curious to see what it is “I can hear y-“

“You” He said with a smile as he stared at the mysterious woman he encountered days ago

“Pardon me, my lord” The woman sighed without emotion

“I never got your name” Anthony approached her “I was wondering if we might meet again” he crossed his arms behind his back, giving the woman a glance over

“So you might discern if my wit is acceptable? My manners genteel?” she said with annoyance

Anthony’s smile faded “You were eavesdropping?”

“It was hardly an effort, seeing as you were proclaiming your many requirements for a wife loud enough for the entire party to hear-“

“You take issue with my requirements?”

“I take issue with any man who views women merely as chattels and breeding stock” The lady said angrily

“None of that was meant for-“

“Viscount Bridgerton, yes?” the woman interrupted him, taking a step closer towards him “When you manage to find this paragon of virtue, whatever makes you think she will accept your suit? Are the young ladies of London truly so easily won by a pleasing smile and absolutely nothing more?”

Anthony was about to respond when he stopped, taking in her words before chuckling, remembering the same words said by a blue eyed, red headed beauty, some minutes ago, completely ignoring the young lady before him, finding humor in the coincidence.

“You are laughing?” the woman said offended

“no, no,no” Anthony apologized “my apologies, it is just someone told me the same thing before” his mind went once again towards the redhead. Seems like there is more women that share her particular ideals. If they are friends, then he can see why Y/n gets along with Eloise, both a pair of strong opiniated women.

“Then, seems like that person is someone you should listen to” The woman said

Anthony breathed out a chuckle, something indescribable in his eyes “yes…. yes, perhaps I should” he shook his head before looking at the lady again “If you excuse me…. I shall bid you goodnight” he bowed his head before walking away from the young lady

He’s starting to think balls were his thing (hehe balls). Or maybe balls where you were present that is. Although he will never admit that. Or the fact that as he was currently stepping down the stairs behind his mother and sister, and his brother talking beside him, all his eyes did was search around the ballroom, in hopes of seeing a particular lady.

“Anyone here you’ve not yet rejected?” Benedict spoke beside him

Anthony turned to look at his brother, clearing his thoughts “You’re the artist,” His eyes went to the crowd once again “Do you see anyone remotely inspiring?” He cannot help the small smirk that showed on his face as his eyes caught sight of you next to Penelope “We shall have a diamond tonight and I’ll shall choose my wife”

He followed his mother as she brought Eloise in front of the queen, tuning out their conversation as his face unconsciously turned slightly to keep the redhead in sight. He turned back towards the queen, bowing in tune with his family before they left.

“If the queen, in fact, names Eloise the diamond, who will you marry then, brother?” Benedict asked

Anthony turned to look at him “Hush you” He left before benedict could respond as he saw a certain lady leave Penelope’s side and head towards the refreshments table.

Anthony approached the refreshment table with an easy stride, his gaze lingering on you as you delicately poured yourself a glass of lemonade. The crowd around him faded into a dull hum as he drew closer, his curiosity piqued by the way you seemed so at ease, yet entirely detached from the chaos of the ballroom.

“Miss Featherington,” he said smoothly as he stopped beside you, reaching for a glass himself. “I see you’ve discovered the most sought-after corner of the evening.”

You glanced up shocked before a flicker of amusement showed in your eyes. “Lord Bridgerton,” you greeted, your tone polite but teasing. “I wasn’t aware the refreshment table was the highlight of the night.”

Anthony chuckled, swirling the champagne in his glass. “It’s simply a strategic choice. Much safer here than braving the dance floor—or the relentless matchmaking.”

“Ah,” you said with mock seriousness, turning your body to face him “The infamous Bridgerton charm, evading mamas and their daughters alike. I imagine you ae a master at that by now.”

He raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching in amusement. “I might say the same about you. I don’t see you dancing with any suitors of your own”

You tilted your head slightly “Sorry to disappoint you but I do not have any suitors” You state

Anthony frowned “How can that be? You’re beautiful” He blurted unconsciously. Your eyes widened at his words, a blush filling your cheeks

His eyes widened as well as he processed what he said “I-I-I mean.” He cleared his throat “I meant that you- you have a charm to you that men cannot deny that you are pretty”

You smiled “Thank you, my lord” you said, hiding your glee at his compliment “Oh, I- I’m sure you have matters to tent to. I wouldn’t dream of monopolizing your time. Surely, there’s a line of young ladies waiting for their turn with the Viscount.”

Anthony shrugged, a glint of humor in his eyes. “Oddly enough, the only company I find myself seeking at the moment is yours.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice, though you quickly recovered. “You clearly know how to flatter a lady, Lord Bridgerton. Is this how you court a lady?”

“Flattery?” He placed his glass down with an easy smile. “Not at all. I simply speak the truth.”

“Well, then,” you said, your tone light but edged with curiosity. “If this is the truth, then I wouldn’t dare to say otherwise”

Your gaze held his for a beat too long before you broke the moment with a small laugh. “Well, I hope tonight proves memorable for you, my lord.”

“Oh, it already has,” he said, his voice low and laced with something you couldn’t quite place.

Before you could respond, the trumpets sounded as the queen stepped down to make an announcement.

“Your presence is noted, and your queen most appreciative,” the queen started to say “Allow it to now be my honor to present to you the season’s diamond” she looked around at all the guests

“Miss Edwina Sharma”

You let out a small smile before turning towards Anthony “There you have your new wife” you teased

He turned to look at you “What?” he looked confused

“Was it not the lady that the queen chose the one that is going to be your wife?” You asked

“Where on earth did you hear that?” Anthony said confused

“I have my ways” You shrugged “But anyway, go introduce yourself”

Anthony frowned “I- “

“Go” You urged him “I’ll see you later” Anthony gave you one last look before heading towards the new diamond

“She is a lovely diamond, dearest” Anthony’s mother approached him after the dance with Miss Edwina.

Anthony would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little worried after finding out that the woman he made such a bad impression on was Miss Edwina’s sister, making things just a bit difficult. Miss Edwina was nice, answering all of his questions with sincerity, awareness and intelligence. She is exactly what he wanted if he was going to marry out of duty.

But surprisingly, he cannot help but think back on the featherington girl. You were…different, you challenged him and you weren’t in awe of him like every other lady in London (If only he knew)

“Anthony?” His mother called out when he didn’t respond

He turned to look at his mother, shaking away every thought of you. No matter how much he enjoyed talking to you, how refreshing he found you to be.

You incited things in him he didn’t dare to pursuit more or acknowledge, things that went against everything he said he would never do, surprising considering you’ve spoken, truly spoken, not small greetings like the ones you gave each other whenever he came across the featherington family or when you accompanied Penelope to her meetings with Eloise, but full conversations for a total of like two times.

It unnerved him.

“She is nice” Anthony agreed with his mother, looking down.

He had to put duty above everything else.

“She is…who I shall marry” Anthony stated, his eyes catching a flicker of red hair from the corner of his eyes, he gave his mother one last glance before walking away

⏮️ ⏸️ ⏭️

*those in white are blogs which don't have their mentions on and thus I couldn't tag them*

Taglist:

@heyyitsreign

@imafangirlofeverything

@stopeatread

@smartiepants217

@magical-spit

@ifilwtmfc

@kitkat27

@zestygingergirl

@electronicexpertshark

@annareidprofiler

[spanktony]

chapter two. | WHERE DO YOU SLEEP? — YU JIMIN.

𝘀𝗵𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗲𝗻𝗲𝗱 𝘀𝘆𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀 — y/n, a rising music producer, has built her dream career while keeping her personal life under wraps. karina, aespa’s leader, is preparing for a huge comeback with a mini album produced and written by the one and only y/n.

karina knows this is the opportunity of a lifetime, and she has to nail it. the only problem is, she may be a bit distracted by her producer.

something about their connection feels different—like maybe it's worth the risk of prying eyes. but how much will they give up to chase after what they want?

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 — small tension w a tad bit of angst.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀 — 1.7k

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲— this is the last filler chap before things start heating up lol. if this does well quickly i'll drop the next chap immediately

taglist (open) — @sunshinez4 @gtfoiydlyj @yuyuy90

series masterlist. main masterlist. prev. next.

what? what was that noise?

it takes a second for you to register the sound, the left side of your cheek pressed against the soft white pillow on your bed as your eyes lazily blink open.

the buzzing continues.

you sigh, reaching a hand out from under the blanket, and pat the nightstand in search of the culprit. your fingers brush against the device, and you pull it towards you, holding it over your face and squinting.

the bright light momentarily blinds you, but when you open your eyes fully, you hit the green accept button and bring the phone to your ear, muttering a groggy hello.

"y/n," your manager's voice came through, far too cheerful for 1:07 a.m. "wake up! i got some big news!"

"obviously i'm up." you groan, rolling over onto your stomach and closing your eyes. sassiness wasn't really something you could control before your morning coffee. "what's the news?"

"karina wants you to help write and produce her solo," your manager blurts out, his excitement practically vibrating through the line. "she personally asked for you."

your eyes snap open. whatever sleep fog still remained vanishes in an instant. "wait, what?" you ask, sitting up so quickly the blanket falls off your shoulders.

"you heard me. sm called. she wasn't happy with the last version of her single and asked for your help. she loves working with you, y/n."

your heart races. karina. asking for you. specifically.

"but—but—" you sputter, still not quite believing his words. "no buts," your manager interrupts, clearly on a roll. "sm is flying you out first thing this morning."

you blink, your brain still playing catch-up. "wait, this morning? like, in a few hours?"

it was around 5 am when your plane finally took off, your headphones over your ears, and eyes covered by a frog sleeping mask that your mom got you for christmas.

the flight was long; it didn't help that you kept twisting and turning in your seat, trying to find a comfortable position to sleep in. only fully submitting to the exhaustion once your head fell against your manager's shoulder, who was fast asleep and didn't mind.

the plane touches down with a soft jolt, and you push yourself upright, immediately regretting it. the frog mask from your mom's christmas gift sits comically on top of your head, and a long yawn escapes your lips as you stretch your stiff muscles.

your manager, ever the morning person, doesn't seem to notice your exhaustion as he watches security gather your things and move toward the exit. "you ready?"

you nod, rubbing your eyes. the realization of being back in korea hasn't fully hit you yet, and the reason you're back again isn't for personal enjoyment this time but for business.

with...karina.

you hadn't seen her in weeks (because you were in la), hadn't even spoken to her since that one fateful day when she gave you her number after pulling slightly on your arm. so much time had passed since then, and now, suddenly, the dark-haired girl was the topic of all your thoughts.

your manager and the security guards walk a little ahead, talking amongst themselves as they lead the way toward the exit of the airport. then there's a shutter, a faint shutter sound. then another.

you glance up to see a few people hovering near the arrivals area, some pointing in your direction. the whispers turn into excited squeals as you walk by; phones start popping up like whack-a-moles, flashes of professional cameras going off.

and you instinctively cover your face with the frog-shaped sleep mask, which causes a couple of laughs to erupt from the growing crowd. but you quickly pull it back when you realize you can't see out of it.

you hear your manager talking with the security team, and suddenly there's an arm wrapped around your shoulders, leading you outside, the warm sunlight hitting your skin. you're ushered into a waiting car, and your manager sits next to you, giving you a reassuring smile before explaining the next steps of your busy schedule for the day.

"wait, what? lunch?" you ask, a bit incredulous, a bit shocked. your manager chuckles and nods, "they want to treat you to lunch as a thank you for your hard work."

huh.

you sink back into the plush seat, twisting your lips. "and, um, all the girls are gonna be there?"

"yep," he replies. "everyone, including their manager. so make sure to rest when you get to your hotel room, okay?"

your heartbeat picks up speed.

"okay."

you really love your hats.

karina thinks to herself, watching you from the corner of her eye as you sit across the table from her, laughing about something aeri said. instead, this time you're wearing a red balenciaga hat with your brown hood pulled up over it.

you seem so comfortable, laughing and chatting with the others. they each had mentioned having fun that day in the recording studio and how you're one of the easiest people they've ever worked with, along with the most patient and caring.

the way you interact with her members is just the sweetest thing; karina's heart clenches, a soft smile playing on her lips as she watches you. your eyes widen, then you quickly nod your head, agreeing with yizhuo on how mogu mogu is one of the best drinks you've ever tasted.

the truth is, karina did request that you help her with her solo. it seems bad; it really does. her asking you to take down her number was a bold move, only to never receive a text from you, then asking you to come all the way to seoul for her own benefit.

she did it, though.

it wasn't just so she could see you; she truly did want your help. although she was happy to see you again.

the days after the first meeting, karina would replay your conversation in her head.

"ah, i didn't think of that. let's do it again!"

"for sure!"

karina doesn't even understand why the interaction stuck with her; it wasn't anything special, just a quick moment. yet, it stayed. karina was never one to act like a lovesick fool, and she prided herself on her professionalism. she had always been able to keep her personal and work life separate, and she knew the importance of keeping her relationship status private.

she knows how that turns out; she's experienced it firsthand before.

but something about you made her throw all caution out the window. she wanted to know more. wanted to spend more time with you.

"unnie? are you feeling alright?" minjeong asks, a tiny smile cracking through her concern. karina blinks, realizing she had been lost in thought.

"i'm fine," she replies with a forced smile, taking a sip of her water.

"i saw fortune cookies near the register. anyone else want one?" you suddenly ask, a wide smile on your lips as you stand from your seat. karina's eyes linger a second too long.

you earn a few yeses from the group before making your way to the counter, and karina gets up to follow you, excusing herself.

you glance over your shoulder as karina steps beside you. swallowing a lump in your throat, you turn back to the counter, your hands digging in the bowl of fortune cookies, trying to ignore the discomfort of karina's sudden presence beside you.

"how have you been?" karina asks softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

"fine," you reply curtly, not looking at her. "busy." she pauses, and you can feel her studying you.

"you seem upset with me." you let out a small, humorless laugh, finally turning to meet her gaze.

"upset? no, i'm not upset. i just want to get this over with."

her brows furrow, her lips parting in confusion.

was she really trying to act like she had no idea why you were acting this way?

"get what over with?"

you stare at her. is she serious?

when it's clear that karina's waiting for an answer, you let out a frustrated sigh, stepping a little closer to her.

"this whole thing," you say, gesturing vaguely. "helping you with your solo. i don't even know why you asked me when you haven't bothered to talk to me since the day you gave me your number."

karina's expression shifts, her lips parting slightly as if to respond, but she doesn't. instead, she just stares at you, processing your words. "i didn't talk to you because you didn't text me," she says finally, her voice a little louder than before.

"what are you talking about? i did text you," you counter, swapping the handful of fortune cookies to your other hand before pulling out your phone. "i sent you a message right after you gave me your number. and then another. you never replied."

you open your messages, scrolling to the thread and showing her the unsent texts, demonstrating that you did, in fact, reach out to her. karina takes your phone, her brows furrowed as she inspects the screen.

her lips press into a thin line before she lets out a quiet laugh. "y/n," she says, holding the phone up. "you put a 3 instead of a 4 in my number."

"what?" you reply, confused. your mouth opens again, then closes. "no way," you mutter, snatching the phone back to confirm.

sure enough, there it is. the tiny typo that had caused months of silence. "oh my god."

karina bites her lip, her eyes shining with amusement. "i thought you ghosted me," she says, a giggle escaping her lips; she immediately brings her hand up to hide her huge smile, her shoulders shaking with laughter.

you groan, running a hand over the material of your hoodie. "i thought you were ignoring me!" you exclaim. you can't help the small laugh that slips past your lips.

you feel stupid, embarrassed. "i—this is so stupid. i feel so stupid."

"hey," she says gently, her smile softening. "it's not your fault. just... a miscommunication."

you exhale sharply, shaking your head. "yeah, but still. all this time, i thought—" you stop yourself, a sigh escaping your lips.

karina studies you, her gaze searching, curious.

"whatever. at least now i know."

karina tilts her head slightly, her eyes searching yours. "so... can we start over?" her question catches you off guard, and for a moment, you just stare at her.

then, slowly, you nod. "yeah. i guess we can."

she smiles, a genuine one that makes your heart flutter. "good."

series masterlist. main masterlist. prev. next.

[scandinavianfairytale]

Fate

Pairing: Feyd-Rautha x F!Reader

Warnings: Kidnapping, obsession, attemped murder, actual murder, mentions of knives, one forced kiss, Feyd believes in his dreams & calls it fate 🙈

Feyd-Rautha smirked to himself as one of his guards rushed to tell him the news of the dead soldier. The guard graveled as his Lord excused himself from the meeting and casually strolled out of the room. It was time for sleep anyway.

If the soldier is dead, that means she probably took his knife. Feyd continued smiling as he approached the locked room you were kept in. My Little mouse.

As the door opened you clutched the knife behind your back and anxiously waited for your captor to enter the wretched room. You observed him as he entered and discarded his clothes, your eyes sneaking to the little gadget that prevents him from getting stabbed. Either he was oblivious or he was confident. Either way, this predicament you were in ends tonight.

You tried masking your breathing as he slowly advanced to you, your anxiety (or was it fear?) rising with each one of his steps. He seemed relaxed and that was your cue. Masterfully, you brought the knife out from behind your back and with all your strength plunged it at his abdomen.

Your victory, if you could call it that, was short lived as you realized that while the knife made impact, it made impact with his hand. You stared at his grip on the knife, clutching the blade as blood slowly dripped from it. His face was twisted in delight. And even though you were afraid, you hoped that your captivity will still come to an end, this time by the hands of your captor.

He easily pulled the knife out of your hands, as he sensed your defeat. Feyd chuckled at your boldness, you actually had the gall to try and kill the na-Baron. He already knew you were a good and sly fighter, but he didn't realize you were also this brave. He observed your demeanor and he realized you were hoping to get killed. Maybe escape was not on your mind.

"Don't worry, little mouse. I won't hurt you." He smirked. "Yet." He kept his eyes glued to yours as he discarded the knife and licked his blood-stained hand. He loved the sweet metal aftertaste the blood left behind in his mouth.

"I hate you."

"I know." His chuckle rumbled from deep within his chest. Like he found it so amusing.

"Why are you doing this then?" You gestured to the long chains that were shackled to your wrists. "Why am I here?"

"Because I want you." Feyd spoke so matter-of-factly, like it made complete sense. He breached the small distance between the two of you and stared into your eyes. "For the past couple of years, I dreamt of a figure that will lead me to becoming Emperor. She was by my side as the houses bowed down to me."

As he spoke, you recognized the dream. You've had it as well, on repeat for the last year. Feyd smirked as he saw your recognition.

"She was always hidden by a mask, her face just out of my reach. But then I took control of Arrakis, and this sand finally unveiled her." He took a dramatic pause. Like he didn't already know what the next sentence out of his mouth would be. "It was you."

"So I searched for you until I found you." Feyd caressed your hair, as if you were the most precious thing in his possession.

"Let me get this straight, because of a reoccurring dream you decided to kidnap me and keep me locked in here?" Your face hardened in disgust, flinching away slightly.

"Not a dream. Fate."

"I didn't peg you for one of those people that believe in fate."

"You're the reason why I believe in fate."

"And now what? What's your plan?" You barked.

"I'll keep you here until you submit. Until I can have you by my side, willingly. And then we take what is ours." His voice dropped to almost a whisper, and his hand traveled from your hair to your chin, gripping it tightly and lifting your chin up. You wanted to turn away as it became too overwhelming, but his lips came crashing down on yours. You felt as if he consumed you. It was too much, but Feyd's hands enveloped you, bringing you even closer together.

He couldn't get enough of you. You had a taste to you that he couldn't place. Something foreign but at the same time familiar. It was as if you were his own personal drug that he took for the first time.

Your hands pushed up against his bare chest, trying to push him away, but he wouldn't budge. So you bit him hard, drawing blood, and finally, he let you go, with the softest moan leaving his lips. You weren't under any pretense - he let you push him away. For what reason, you weren't sure, but you were glad he was a safe distance away. You willed yourself to swallow the bile that rose in your throat as his blood left a bitter taste in your cavity.

Feyd ran his fingers over his lips and sucked the blood from them. He smirked, his teeth stained with his own blood. "You really like hurting me today, Little mouse. I like this side of you."

"Take the cuffs off, and maybe you'll like me even more." You challenged, your voice shaky as you were still trying to catch your breath.

"Please, give me some credit. I may be reckless and up for a good fight, but you still killed your guard and took his knife, hoping to do the same to me. I'd be downright stupid if I let you out of those cuffs." Feyd chuckled, and he walked past you towards the only bed in the otherwise nearly empty space.

"Come now, it's time for bed."

"I'm not tired."

"That wasn't a suggestion." His voice was harder, like he was warning you. In your mind you knew, but you felt stubborn, especially after this whole debacle. So, you refused to move. Feyd didn't hear your footsteps, and he slowly turned his head to glance at you from over his shoulder. You could see how his back strained.

"You have one more chance to listen. If you don't, I will not be lenient, no matter what fate tells me." Feyd spoke in an ominous voice, and it made you rethink your choice. Slowly, you made your way towards him, and he slowly entered the bed, with you following him.

This has become a routine for you. Every night, Feyd would come back, and he would sleep next to you, holding some part of you. Most of the time, he held your hand, but tonight, he pulled you close and tucked you under his chin, inhaling your scent.

And just like any other night, while Feyd-Rautha slept peacfully, you didn't sleep a wink.

Thank you for reading! 😊✨️

The GIF belongs to the amazing creator 😊💪

[hoseoksluna]

BLUR | myg ft. jjk

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

genre: smut

word count: 17k

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

pinterest board: blur

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s as clueless as you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tell me what to do.” 

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

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

So has he. 

“Yoongi, no, I meant—”

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

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

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

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

Not for long, though. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There’s no catch. 

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

A good girl. 

Only this time it’s entirely different. 

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

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

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

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

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

You find that immensely, immensely attractive. 

Hot. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s as emotional as you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He merely smiles at you. “Be patient.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please.” 

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

He opens your mouth wider and spits. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He begins to fuck you with his tongue. 

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

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

It’s those words that make you come again. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ride him well, make me proud.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck yes. Please. Both holes.”

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

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

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

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

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

Your yes is but a tweet. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You whine. 

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

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

But Yoongi only grips himself and pulls out. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your orgasm triggered his. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wash her clean.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They let you do your thing on your own. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But then Jungkook folds into your form. 

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

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

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

“Hyung?” 

He hums in response. You curse him, too. 

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

Your eyes fly open. The audacity this man has—

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

“Lemme make it right.” 

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

“Okay, Jungkookie.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s hard. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You want to kiss him so bad. 

“How does Yoongi punish you, hm?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

You swear, eyes wide. “I’m sorry.” 

He spanks your clit. “Sorry what?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

“Yes, please, Daddy.” 

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

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

He lifts his thumb. “Hold it.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you’ll have your own. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smile. “You should be quiet.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Turn your gaze to your boyfriend instead. 

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

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

This has to be a continuous relationship. 

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

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

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

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

“He still sleeps like a bear.” 

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

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

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

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

“You wear glitter?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We shouldn’t do this.” 

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

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

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

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

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

You kiss his bare chest. “Good morning.”

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

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

“So, I want two boyfriends.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And the vice versa part. Jungkook is one sly—

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

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

Jungkook nods. “Of course, I understand.” 

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

“Yes, once you’re ready.”

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

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

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

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

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

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

[skeletonh0e]

Under his Spell

Similar to Fresh I noticed a STAGGERING lack of Nightmare smut so here I am yet again, plus I demand soft dom Nightmare. Fem Reader with she/her pronouns, AFAB anatomy. Implied that the reader and Nightmare are a thing already dating, but it's vague enough that you can interpret their relationship however. Hypnosis, power play, overstimulation, praise kink + minor degradation, some possessiveness, tentacles (obviously), minor size kink if you squint ig. Everything is consensual but due to the nature of hypno kinks there are some dub con elements so continue cautiously if that's not your thing. I wrote this at the spur of a moment so again apologies if there's more spelling errors than usual.

MINORS DNI

"You're certain you wish to do this?"

"Yes, c'mon, how many times do I have to tell you that I trust you?"

Another moment where Nightmare simply put, does not get you. No one in their right mind would put this much trust in him, he's not even sure if he trusts himself that much. Yet right now you might as well be putting out a steak on a silver platter to a very hungry wolf.

"Yes, but there is no going back once I start. You won't be able to say no." it's worded like a reprimand, squint and you miss maybe a hint of concern being shown for you. Your body endeared by it, but you knew better than to press it.

"I know. And. I. Trust. You." you assure, which while that statement was true you were honestly a bit intrigued by Nightmare's truly darker side. It was part of the reason it was so much fun to give him this level of control over you. "Don't tell me the great King of Negativity is being chicken."

"Ha, ha, ha, you know better than to mock me." a deep breath is taken, if all apprehensions are put aside. "Very well, ready then?"

You nod, "Always."

He grips your chin, it's firm enough to guide your face to keep your gaze directly focused on him but gentle enough you could break through it if you wanted to. Not that you did. "Keep your eyes on me," he instructed, that single cyan pupil starting to radiate a strange energy. His magic was always so strange to you, you couldn't even try to understand it, but damned if you didn't enjoy it's many perks.

It's hard to tell if it's simple the effects coming in full force or if the eye actually changes shape as it seems to shift into a delicious spiral. Your gaze is further fixating on it, waves of relaxation starting to hit your body.

"That's a good girl, submit." he assured, voice deliciously sweet right now.

And your utter submission he had.

Your eyes became hazy, your entire body slumping as all tension soon leaves your form. Any noisy thoughts that left your brain instantly shushed, only thing you could focus on what his eye and his voice.

"You make it so easy for me," he cooed, the sight of you like this was always an engaging one. The way your mind went dumb, the way you looked at him, and the utter power he had over you was something else entirely. Tentacles start to snake across your form, your body pushed back onto the nearby bed as he takes his time in groping you. Looming over you the entire time, your eyes never once leaving his own. "I couldn't ask for a better plaything, now, could I? No one would be this good for me."

It's always amusing how red your face gets, doesn't seem to better how deep of a trance you're put in or how many times you two do this. You always get flustered. You weren't really properly dressed to begin with, pajamas loosely clanged to your form and his tendrils make sure to quickly dispose of your shirt. A sharp gasp escaping you as your bottoms were quickly worked to be removed, one of those black inky things accidentally brushing over your folds.

"No underwear at all?" he asked, clearly amused as the bottoms are dragged down your legs. "Really were eager tonight, weren't you pet?"

God damn that little nickname (or pet name you guessed would be more appropriate), you feel your hips trembling.

"Answer me." his tone was still dotting, but firmer this time.

"Yes." you answer, truthfully while you were like this he could ask you to bark then you'd do it. But this was the truth, you wanted this tonight. You didn't want to think about anything else. You wanted to be his little fuck doll tonight.

Nightmare took good care of his toys too, even when playing rough.

"Good girl," he hummed, your reward for that. "Now, keep being good for me and spread your legs."

You comply, several of his tentacles still on you but not quite gripping you though if Nightmare changed his mind he could easily have all of them restrain you in seconds. Your back naturally arches, your legs moving to either side of the mattress.

"Come now, wider, I want to see all of you."

You tremble, but comply. Your thighs flexing a bit, you move to further arch your hips as well. Nightmare clearly pleased with the sight.

"There we are, good girl, my good girl," there's almost a growl in his voice, lord above he'd kill anyone who'd ever even get close to seeing you like this. The display is utterly divine, you completely helpless underneath him, your pretty pink wet cunt on full display, and the sheer amount of control he has nearly makes him drunk.

The things he could do to you, the way you'd only be able to lay back and take it, the fact you'd all enjoy it too. He's already hard, he ignored the feeling of his erection before but it was impossible to do so now.

Clothes are being undone, but he keeps talking.

"So wet, all wet for me, how long were you thinking about this?"

You tremble, body needy but your mind utterly compliance. Couldn't even touch yourself, not unless he ordered you to. You had to be a good girl and wait. "A-All day," you admit.

"All day?" his chuckle echoes through the room, "You desperate little thing, what exactly were you hoping for? My cock inside you? My tentacles inside you? Or maybe you wanted me to abuse that pretty mouth of yours?"

"All of it." you rasped out, "All of it, all of it, all of it," you repeated dumbly.

He makes a sound akin to a tsk, it would have embarrassed you if you weren't so utterly wrapped up in this trance right now. "My slutty little plaything, what am I going to do with you?"

It's a trick question, he has concocted several plans in his mind for tonight. It's unclear where it'll end but it'll start here for sure, you feel something hard press against your needy entrance. You know what it is. You know what's about to happen. And the way your insides twist with pure need.

That's when he whispers devilishly in your ear, "While I figure that out, what you're going to do is scream nice and loud for me. Don't you even think about holding back. Got?"

Sure, his servants and underlings might hear but honestly? Good. The one thing that should definitely come out of these sessions was the undeniable claim he had over you. How good he could pleasure you. How much control he had and would continue to have over you. His.

"Yes sir," you uttered out, never one to bother with overly formal titles but that went out the window when you were like this.

"Good girl." that was all the warning you got before he slammed into you full force. The tentacles no longer being lax in their hold as they clamp down on you, restraining your body not only preventing you from being able to squirm much but as well as raising you up in the air slightly.

The scream you make as your pussy is violently intruded is loud, painfully lewd sounding. He was big, not to the point that taking him was painful (your natural arousal prevented that for the most part anyway), but the way he stretched you out was always so intoxicating. Especially when he got all rough like this. Your pussy barely having time to adjust before the tentacles pulled you back then slammed you back down on his cock. Nightmare synchronizing his thrusts with the way you were repeatedly through down on his thick shaft.

Your mewls and moans are loud. Nightmare lets out a series of soft grunts, voice always managing to sound so composed even as he breaks you on his cock. "Fuuuuck you're always so nice and tight for me, perhaps I should keep you here? My personal pleasure toy to use whenever, wouldn't even have to bother keeping you restrained. Because-"

A series of particularly harsh thrusts come, one making you see stars as it perfectly hit your g-spot. You highly doubt it was coincidence either, Nightmare mapped out every inch of your body by now. "-you wouldn't be able to walk from everything I've done to you."

You definitely won't be able in the morning, a problem for another day. You cry out in pleasure, but your body's response keeps him all the confirmation that he needs. The way your little pussy clenches around him briefly at the mention of those words.

"Such a good girl," he purrs, he takes a moment, only a moment to rearrange himself before thrusting himself in again at the same rapid pace. This time hitting your g-spot maliciously with each hard thrust and the scream that it earns while you yell out his name is music to his non-existent ears. You writhe around, as much as you're allowed to like this. It was by instinct then by anything else, the intensity quickly overwhelming your senses as-

"Now, now, I said no holding back." It would have been frustrating how composed he remained if it also wasn't so fucking arousing. "Cum for me."

You're not given much of a choice, especially as you're slammed down and the way the head of cock hits your g-spot full force sends you over the edge. You scream out his name again, your orgasm hitting you violently. Your cunt attempts to milk Nightmare dry for all he's worth as he just keeps going, your fluids practically baptizing his shaft.

A groan does escape him, feeling you perfectly you squeeze him. It only encourages him to make you keep doing it, speed and intensity increasing. Tentacles still keep you in place but some taking stride to grope you. Nightmare's hand going to pinch your clit as he keeps his movements up.

"Again," he demands, the reckless abandon as his thrusts being further empathized by just how oversensitive it is. Not even being given a chance to recover, the only thing you can do is whine. "Good little toys do as their told and I want you to cum again, you will cum again."

And you do. The words, his thrusts, his movements, you scream again as another orgasm rocks through you. You can swear it feels like the room is staring to spin and it's an utterly amazing feeling.

"That's it, just like that, that's it, good girl. My good little cocksleeve, fuck-" he's not gonna last long if he keeps this up. Not that he plans to stop this at one round, far from that. However, he wants to full you cum on his cock one more time before he does. "Who do you belong to?"

"Y-You."

"Stop holding back, don't make me tell you again. Say it, who do you belong to?"

"YOU!" you scream.

"Say my name."

"NIGHTMARE! I BELONG TO YOU NIGHTMARE! I-"

There's a surprisingly low sounding moan as you cum against, especially as a near feral growls erupts out of Nightmare as he finishes inside you. The fingers pinching your cilt nearly painful as he prolongs the feeling, his hips giving a few sputtering thrusts both to make sure he gives you every last drop and fuck his own seed deeper into you.

It takes him a moment before he speaks again, instead opting to simply play with your clit. No longer pinching it, but instead slowly rolling his thumb over it. You're so overstimulated and lost in the pleasure you might just cum a fourth time from the simple movements. But he doesn't you to, not just yet anyway.

And your body has to comply.

He stops and pulls out, his tentacles shifting you so that your chest is pressed right onto the bed beneath you and your ass is in the air right on display for him. The entity giving it as a hard smack as he does so, it stings and is sure to leave a mark.

"Hope you didn't think you'd get off so easily pet,"

You didn't. You actually hoped it didn't. But you simply whimper pathetically underneath him, as you feel him lining up with your entrance again. Some of his cum trickling down your tights, hands firmly on your ass. It's unclear whether he plans to insert anything in there or simply smack then watch it bounce as he rails into it again. Doesn't matter, not up to you right now anyway.

"Ready?" he knows the answer, doesn't change the fact he loves hearing your response.

"Always."

[cosmiquenotes]

Accidental night stand???

𝙲𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚋 𝚡 𝙵𝚎𝚖!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

(Name), an aspiring researcher in the Farspace Fleet, gets her life in a mess when she accidentally sleeps with her boss.

word count: 2.5k

⋆˚࿔ in honor of Caleb's birthday, i come delivering this fun series/smau

if you want to be tagged in upcoming chapters, feel free to send an ask!!

divider credits: @/cafekitsune

Prologue

‘Wake up, coffee, work, argue with your boss, work, argue with your boss, go home

What an exciting routine. It is certainly a routine anyone would love yknow.’

Surely you would think my boss will somehow see my point of view and accept any research proposal and take me to one of the fleet’s trips? Nope. He lives to torment me.

If there is anyone I want to dropkick into the ocean right now, it would be my boss.

The Farspace Fleet Colonel.’

(Name) sighed, closing her diary and threw herself on the bed.

Another work day, another proposal denied.

(Name) is a very well-known character in the fleet, a genius in anything related to wanderers and protocores. She published a lot of papers that helped Akso Hospital in their research regarding Protocore Syndrome. She is someone who loves her work with a huge passion, and her dream was to work in the Farspace Fleet research center since this place will give her access to anything new that comes from Deepspace.

(Name) was one of the people who secretly investigated Lucius and exposed all his illegal research with Ever and that investigation caused Lucius to be thrown in jail and for ever to suffer a critical loss in finances and support from the public, causing them to hide away and losing their control over Skyhaven, with the city now under the full control of the Farspace Fleet.

She has worked for 5 whole years in the fleet, with her experience and achievements, everyone at the fleet trust her deeply when it comes to exploring Deepspace, she went on several trips with the fleet and with her medications and research, the fleet was able to deal with injuries and any encounters with mutated wanderers.

Well. That was until the fleet got a new colonel.

The new Farspace Fleet Colonel is like a wall made of iron, he is unapproachable, always serious despite everything in Skyhaven has settled down after Ever left. He is also the person who is giving (Name) a hard time at work. Every request she submits to join the fleet for a trip to Deepspace gets rejected, despite her backing it up with her evol abilities, reports about previous trips and recommendations from several high ranking fleet officers.

She tried everything, and she gets back a rejected request. The only good thing she ever received from him is a gala to celebrate her latest research on the new mutated wanderers that started appearing in the city.

“This is ridiculous. Who does he think he is huh? I know far more than he does when it comes to wanderers, I went on several trips with the fleet and came out unharmed and even the soldiers were unharmed, so why does he keep refusing me!” (Name) screamed into her pillow.

Well, luckily tomorrow is the weekend so she has time to think about how to approach him again and more importantly, unwind from this hectic week and meet her friends in Linkon.

“Everytime I send in a request to join the fleet and give him the reason why backed up with scientific research and even recommendations from several people, he rejects it. And you know what’s even worse? He keeps saying I will distract the fleet. Can you guys believe this?” (Name) huffed, taking a sip from her iced coffee.

“Isn’t your evol like, pretty strong on its own? Plus it is very useful too.” Yvonne replied, taking a bite from her cake, “You always help out the injured when a wanderer attack happens in the city. Plant manipulation is no joke girl.”

“Maybe show him what your evol can do if that is what he is worried about.” Xavier commented, taking a sip from his coffee. (Name) sighed and shook her head at his comment.

“I told him multiple times to see my evol in battle, but the only reply I get is ‘I’m busy’.” She replied, earning a chuckle from her purple haired friend.

“It’s like the old colonel told him to make your life a living hell or something.” Rafayel chuckled, earning a glare from (Name).

“This is not the time for jokes.” Yvonne said, clapping her hands together, “(Name), did you pick out a dress already? The party is tomorrow.”

“Well…. I went to the shop Rafayel recommended and got one already.” She replied, earning a grin from the artist.

“See, girl I told you, never doubt an artist. I’ll also do your makeup and make you look stunning.” He replied, (Name) smiled at him and nodded.

“Alright, thanks Raf.”

“Don’t try to drink too much alcohol though. The last thing you want is the alcohol giving you the courage to yell at the colonel in front of everyone.” Xavier warned, drinking from his coffee cup.

“Don’t worry. I won’t drink that much anyway.” (Name) replied with a grin.

“I fear you will regret those words later sis.” Xavier muttered, taking a bite from his cake.

The day continued with the group going around the mall and picking out accessories for (Name) to wear along with her dress.

Soon, the day of the party arrived, and for a party hosted by the Fleet, it was very elegant and filled with soldiers and officers from the Fleet.

(Name) hung around her colleagues from the research department, they are the only people she considered as friends in her workplace.

“Attention everyone.” The cold voice got everyone's attention to the front of the room.

There stood the Farspace Fleet Colonel. Tailored suit and cap elegantly placed on his head, sharp purple eyes scanning the entire hall as he had one hand behind his back and a hand holding the microphone to his lips.

He had a dangerous aura around him, an aura of dominance that gets every woman to fall for him. He's got everything, the looks, the authority, the money. Any woman would dream of a man like Caleb to look her way.

‘Delusional idiots. All these women throwing heart eyes at this man don't know his true nature. He is nothing but a self-centered peabrain who doesn't understand my value as a researcher and just how strong I am on the battlefield. He is a sadist who lives off my tor-’

“All of our great achievements would have never happened without the work of Fleet's research department. We are gathered here to celebrate the latest publication that helped the fleet in uncovering more secrets about Deepspace. Let's all give a round of applause for (Name).” His voice snapped the young researcher from her thoughts, smiling softly as everyone clapped their hands.

She approached the front of the room with her head held high and a haughty smile on her lips, she took the colonel’s outstretched hand and then turned to the crowd.

“Thank you. In my years serving the Fleet, I learn new things and use my years of education and experience to help out against attacks from wanderers in order to keep humanity safe from the dangers of Deepspace. Please enjoy the party.” (Name) finished off her speech and walked back to her friends as everyone clapped for her.

“Here’s to the Fleet’s pride and joy.” The department head said, handing her a glass of wine.

‘I know Xavier warned me about alcohol but it's just one glass.’ (Name) thought, grabbing the glass and drinking from it.

As the night passed, one glass became two, which became several.

“I- I need to step out for fresh air.” (Name) excused herself, taking her tipsy mind to one of the balconies to clear her head.

“Damn it…. I didn't want to be drunk today. What if I ran into that stupid colonel and proceed to yell at him for pissing me off?” The researcher muttered, resting her arms on the railing and looking down at the scenery below her.

“That's the first time I heard someone call the colonel stupid.”

“Well. He is. And he is too stubborn too. He rejected my requests 20 times. Can you believe that? 20. And his only excuse is that I’m not strong. He clearly didn't see my evol in battle.” She replied, turning around to look at the mysterious stranger who was willing to listen to her rant about her boss.

“Not to mention he never addresses me as Dr. (Name)! I did not spend my entire life doing research and getting a doctorate just for some guy to-”

“Sorry about that, I can see it now if you want to.”

Oh. Oh no.

(Name) felt the color drain from her face as her tipsy mind is trying to comprehend the fact that the mystery man is none other than the colonel himself.

“Y-You! Th-That was the alcohol I'm sorry.”

“It's alright.” He chuckled, grabbing her hand softly and leading her to a chair to sit on.

“Have some water first.” He said, handing her a glass of water which she quietly accepted and drank it.

“Well Dr (Name), you okay now?” He said with a smirk, making the researcher blush and look away.

“I'm good. Sorry for troubling you Colonel.”

“It's alright. So, about that demonstration…”

She raised her cup and smashed it on the floor, she then picked up a glass shard and made a cut on her hand.

The colonel watched as she summoned plants from the ground that quickly healed her wound, making it look as if she never got hurt in the first place.

“Not only that, but I can also heal any injuries from poisons, and also restore any limb if my evol was amplified. I can also poison wanderers and weaken them significantly. I am useful in battle, and you can ask anyone in the fleet, but you are just too stubborn.”

“Stubborn?”

“And prideful too. Just because you are the colonel doesn't mean you are above everyone else yknow. I for one know a lot about the fleet that you don't know about.”

“Like what?” He asked, placing his jacket on her shoulders when she shivered from the cold.

“I know where we hide the good coffee, I also know the best place in Skyhaven to get a nice warm bowl of noodles, and where to find the secret stash of snacks.” She said, getting up from the chair.

“And I won't tell you where they are. Since you are annoying.” She ended her speech with a huff, turning around and walking towards the exit.

After a few steps she stumbled and a pair of arms held her before she fell. She looked up and looked into the eyes of the colonel.

“Your eyes…. they are pretty. Like grapes.”

“Grapes?” He chuckled, leading her towards the elevators. “That's a first.”

“No one told you that before? That makes me special, a way to remember me.” She paused, turning to look at him.

“You drank too.”

“A bit. That's why we both need to leave and rest in our respective rooms.” He replied, entering the elevator and pressing the button to his room.

“Oh, I'm on the same floor too.” She giggled, leaning against him.

The colonel leaned back against the wall as she leaned on his arm.

“Are you treating me nicely today because it's my party? Or is it because you're tipsy like me?” She mumbled, looking up at the man next to her.

“I got used to treating everyone at the Fleet like that.”

“Oh. Did they try to kill you?” She asked, moving to stand in front of him and hold onto his shirt.

“How did you know?” His voice dropped, eyes gone cold quickly. (Name) quickly shook her head.

“People tried to kill me too. But after Ever got exposed and they had to hide, everything calmed down.” She mumbled, looking up at him.

“I keep my guard up anyway, if anyone tries to kill me they will get injected with poison.” This earned a chuckle from the colonel as he looked down at her.

The rest of the elevator ride was silent, when it reached the floor, neither of them moved from their positions.

“Well… Thanks.” (Name) said, pulling away from the tension and running down the corridor to her room.

“Wait!” A voice called out for her as the colonel caught up to her.

“I still have something to say.” He said, grabbing her arm and pulling her to him.

“Sorry…. for my attitude.” He said softly, cheeks dusted pink as he looked into her eyes.

‘Is he for real? Or is that the alcohol speaking right now?’ She thought, staring up into his eyes.

“Are you seducing me right now? Because it is working.” She replied, leaning up as he leaned down, resting his forehead against hers.

The sound of approaching footsteps jolted the two away from each other. The colonel quickly grabbed her hand and entered his room.

“Why is your room next to mine? Did you plan this?” (Name) asked when the door was shut behind her.

“Don’t know.”

“Colonel…. We can't do this yknow. You hate me, and I can't stand you. That is just the alcohol.” (Name) said, stopping herself from touching the man infront of her and turned around.

Before she could open the door, his hand slammed against it. His other hand held her shoulder softly.

“Are you sure about this?”

The night escalated, from thoughts and dreams of dropkicking the colonel into the ocean, to drinking with her friends, and finally sleeping with said colonel she wanted to dropkick into the ocean.

The night was wild, he was wild. He ate her out on the table then took her on the couch, with another round in his bedroom.

The sun’s rays hit the sleeping couple, causing the researcher to stir awake. As she tried getting up from the bed, a weight around her waist stopped her.

‘Wait. That is not my room, why are my clothes on the floor, and why is the colonel’s jacket on my dress- wait. THE COLONEL’S JACKET?’

(Name) slowly turned her head to look down at the figure sleeping next to her.

Dark hair, dog tag necklace, sharp jawline, his jacket on the floor.

‘Fuck. FUCK.’

As quietly as she can, (Name) wore her dress, grabbed her stuff and snuck out of the room.

As soon as she was out, she ran back to her room and checked out of the hotel as fast as she can.

Once safely in a taxi, she pulled out her phone to text her friends.

- - -

The Colonel stirred in his sleep, sitting up slowly as he opened his eyes.

His eyes narrowed when he saw the bed empty next to him and her clothes nowhere to be found. All that is left in the bedroom are his clothes folded neatly on a chair.

With a smirk, he got up and approached his neatly folded clothes.

"Fine. You can't run away from me in Skyhaven anyway." He mumbled with a chuckle.

Looks like work will get entertaining now.

[agendabymooner]

SOMETHING CONVERSATIONAL !!! CARLOS S. X FEM!READER (18+)

summary: just two good friends having deep conversation… or just simply a heated conversation over a call.

💌 re:moony's planner request: "hi, can you write phone sex with carlos sainz?."

content warning: smut under the cut (minors dni!), use of explicit language, phone sex, dom!carlos x brat-ish!reader), masturbation (m and f), dirty talking, degrading + dumbification, friends with benefits type beat (with a hint of yearning), squirting, brief mentions of orgasm denial, extremely filthy i did not write this i promise.

note: my demons won today pls be proud of them. enjoy xx (also! please don't hesitate to give me your opinion or talk to me!!!)

ps: i’ve also been spending my time on character ai too much and i just subconsciously thought of being in a poly relationship with fernando and lewis… anyway… enjoy

something sinful (smut) masterlist

a - n masterlist // o - z masterlist

if you’d like to get on one of my taglists, check this post out

she didn’t know what drove her to call him in the middle of the night. they were nothing but friends, after all. 

friends don’t usually call to check in… let alone to get off as if they hadn’t placed their labels below the expected standard (everyone could have sworn that they were dating; they both laughed at the thought while continuing to (eye) fuck each other.) 

so she had no clue why she was willing to submit to him no matter how far he was. she was willing to listen to every single thing he’d tell her.

did she want the orgasm or the attention? she wasn’t sure— but either of the reasons had something to do with him, and it was becoming worse for her yearning as she cursed beneath her breath. today had been the worst of all days for hers

she huffed quietly and got comfortable under her covers, but her exhaustion left soon enough that she became more frustrated and agitated. her frustration left her with the stupid idea of calling him. 

carlos sainz picked up at the second ring and she could practically hear his smirk through his voice as he greeted her, “shouldn’t it be past your bedtime now, bonita?” 

she rolled her eyes, “shouldn’t it be past yours?” she didn’t even think to say hi to him, instead she snarked back at him with the same amount of playfulness in her tone.

“no,” carlos hummed as he spoke with his usual deep tone, “in the hotel though. we just finished our media day duties.”

“nice,” she muttered, his voice sending signals straight to her brain as her legs involuntarily closed.

it was as if he knew what she wanted at this moment as carlos chuckled quietly, “i could get into details about what i’ve done today, but i don’t think you’re that interested in listening.”

she snapped out of her thoughts as she replied monotonously, “i’m a good listener. good friends come with good listening ears.” even carlos knew that she was lying. 

“uh huh,” carlos said as he held his phone closer. “and this good friend knows a lot about you.” 

“that right?” she taunted, feeling the tension between them rising no matter how far apart they were from each other. “what do you know then, good friend?” 

carlos scoffed, his domineering attitude getting the best of him as he smirked, “you’re getting too mouthy, princesa.” 

he nearly laughed at the sound of fabrics rustling from her side of the call, knowing that she was squirming in anticipation already. he could imagine her heart beating fast, waiting for him to make the next move as her face feigned innocence.

carlos always had the upper hand and they both knew that. they both knew who was in control and she was in no place to oppose. 

“you’re acting like this because you are so frustrated,” carlos deduced with a tut, “you’re talking back like you’d be able to handle the consequences of your attitude.”

her free hand had snaked down her nightdress as she felt her bare mound becoming more damp as she proceeded to push his buttons. she replied back, “maybe i’m just projecting my frustration onto you, carlos.”

“by acting like a brat?” carlos’ voice became more stern as he spoke lowly, “you know that begging is the best way to do that, bonita. if you wanted to release it, you should’ve asked nicer— you shouldn’t be touching yourself without permission like a fucking brat. take that pathetic hand off your pussy, princesa, i’m warning you now.” 

like an instinct, she immediately pulled her hand away from her wet cunt. she didn’t even realize that he picked up on it until she found herself writhing while she subconsciously toyed with her clit at the sound of him. 

carlos chuckled with a demeaning and teasing tone, “see? you do listen then. and i thought i’d have to deny you orgasms when i get back.�� 

“carlos,” she whimpered, rubbing her thighs for friction as she listened to him laugh aloud. 

“oh, no no, bonita, you don’t get to ‘carlos’ me,” he replied with a mocking tone. “you don’t get to see me right now, bebe.”

“but i want to see you,” her lips trembled, her mind shifting away from reality to her submissive state. she continued, “i wanna see you touch yourself and your cock.”

“how badly?” he murmured sweetly. 

“so bad,” she mumbled through her phone, her pleading tone making carlos’ cock twitch as he continued to stroke himself slowly. 

carlos knew that he was torturing himself with the teasing, but he couldn’t find himself to stop as his sweet tone turned to a mocking one as he replied, “too bad.” 

he settled himself on his hotel bed as he spat on his palm and stroked his cock. he then instructed her, “go on then.” 

she seemed so lost as she asked, “what?”

carlos laughed haughtily, “don’t tell me you’re already dumb just thinking about getting your pussy fucked with my cock, princesa?” he then clicked his tongue, “touch yourself. i wanna hear you cum.” 

she wasn’t even sure anymore. she was just eager to please him and herself, her fingers gathering the wetness that oozed out of her cunt before she pressed down on her clit and moved them in circular motions. 

she bit her lip as she sighed, making carlos demand, “i wanna fucking hear you.” 

she elicited a whiny sigh as she continued to torture herself slowly. she told him, “i’m so wet.” 

“i can hear, baby,” carlos crooned, his own hand moving up and down his length before his thumb rubbed his thick tip. “i can hear your pretty pussy perfectly well.” 

“those noises that you make are making my cock throb really hard, bebe,” he muttered, earning a whimper of ‘fuck’ from the other side of the call as carlos continued, “they make me want to fly back and fuck you until you’re shaking and sore.” 

“mmm…” she cried out, feeling her hips rising to meet her rubbing fingers halfway through. “…fuck!” 

“your pussy— fuck, princesa,” carlos cursed, “it makes me want to see how fucking wet you will be the next time i fuck you everywhere in your place.”

carlos’ hand increased its pace as her breathing became rapid. carlos growled, “i want to hear you in person- i want to hear you screaming for my name because you’re a pathetic slut who’s desperate to cum all over my cock.” 

“o- oh, fuck,” she sobbed, “can i please fuck myself with my fingers? please, carlos?” she knew that she couldn’t risk not asking him to cum all over her own fingers. she was so lost that she needed his guide. 

carlos permitted her, “go on. put those two fingers inside of you, bonita. i want you to fuck yourself fast.” 

she immediately obliged, her middle and ring fingers scissoring inside her cunt as she wailed in pleasure. her fingers curled up against the sensitive spot inside of her as she uttered, “ah~ fuck~!” 

“it feels good, bonita?” carlos asked huskily as his breathing rapidly increased, stroking himself at the sounds that her squelching cunt made as she fucked herself at a pace that he wanted her to be. 

“mhm,” she nodded, not even realizing that he wasn’t there. “so good, ‘los. fuck.” 

“it’s not as good as mine, bebe,” he growled lowly, “when i get back i’m gonna be fucking that pussy of yours with something more bigger. gonna make sure you cum all over my mouth, my fingers and my cock— gonna make sure your bed’s all filthy from the mess that i’ll make of you.”

“car— los! fuck, i’m cumming,” she babbled as she pleaded, “can i please cum, carlos? please?”

“fuck, i’m cumming too, bonita,” he let out a deep groan as he demanded firmly, “cum all over your fingers, princesa. fucking cum.” 

she let out a high pitched whine, fucking herself through her orgasm as liquid trickled out of her pussy. her sheets were covered with her cum as her body shook before easing off. 

carlos came all over his stomach, groaning aloud as cum shot out of his cock.

both of them breathed heavily and rapidly, falling into silence as they gathered their thoughts and breathing. 

carlos then reached for his phone and asked, “you still there?”

“yuh huh,” she mumbled, laughing to herself before she said, “never came this much over the phone before. watching porn never worked this much either.” 

carlos chuckled, cleaning himself up as he spoke, “what can i say? i’m a miracle worker.” 

she scoffed playfully, “yeah right. okay.” 

perhaps there was a real reason why she called him in the first place. she just needed to see it for herself before realizing it. 

♡ moony’s reminder 🅶 (general): @hiraethrhapsody @avaleineandafryingpan @topguncultleader @enhacolor @roseandtulips @woweewoowa @magnummagnussen @happy-nico @architect-2015

♡   moony’s reminder 🅴 (explicit edition): @glitterf1 @savrose129

[kookiekatz]

Here's a Genderbend idea what if the cookies meet a male Y/n cookie who is a giant buff intimidating looking cookie???? however, he's actually a complete pacifist who's timid, kind, and blushes easily the literal definition of gentle gaint and has a habit of treating his girlfriend/wife like glass and hovers behind her because he can get worried about her🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

He's just a big teddy bear who cares so much🥰

Meet the Gentle Giant M/n Cookie he's made of suger, spice and everything nice🫣🥰

(SMC)(or Pnumbra Milk cookie) Ohhhhhhhhh you are the cutest thing she's ever seen, you have quite the jello heart and low-key Pnumbra is all for it. She would love to mess with you by flirting and tricking you into doing silly things for her, and goes out of her way to make you blush once a day. She also kinda shocked when your able to see though her lies unlike most cookies, but don't rebuke her for trying to deceive you infact you can guess what she really wants alot of the time and grant her that desire. Pnumbra Milk also enjoys cuddling with you as your a much larger body, as she feels safe and secured against it. Overall your became the apple of Pnumbra Milk's mismatch eyes, and she hopes to keep you for a little bit longer......................or forever😉

(BSC)(or Scorching Spice cookie) God damn it you both couldn't be more different from each other, like seriously how can somebody this gigantic and scary on the outside be this much of a big piss baby. Scorching Spice couldn't stand it, and what's worse, you are endlessly kind, caring, and patient to all, especially her. She had vowed to destroy you to your face, and all you took it as her expressing herself, but that's not even the worst part. You follow her everywhere to battle and bring things like snacks and first aid kits for her and her army.....it's amazing how she hasn't snapped yet. However you never judge her for her actions and lifestyle, and even though your soft as all hell you have her back no matter what. Scorching Spice was already attached to you, and she didn't even know it.

(PVC)(or French vanilla cookie) Oh, yes, at first, she was very weary of you at first, being the biggest male cookie in the kingdom. However, once she finds out how sweet you actually are, then she lets her guard down around you, and it wasn't a mistake at all. You both spent time together in her library reading books, or drinking tea, or even having a fun little chat catching up with each other. You were always so kind as to help her around her own kingdom, you were just such an angel to have around her darkened world and she will never take you for granted.

(DCC)(Or Milk Chocolate cookie) Your behavior is very suspicious to her, like seriously nobody can be that nice...nobody because if they were she would have to ask some very uncomfortable questions about herself. However you continue to go grant her endless kindness and help her with any errand or task without hesitation, and well it was admittedly nice. You displayed nothing but respect and care to the Milk Chocolate cookie, and as much as she trys to control her composure a blush would appear right on her dough face. She really had judge a book by it's cover because this extra large cookie was never a bully.

(SSC)(or Quiet Salt cookie) Being around you for some reason makes her so incredibly tired, like seriously stop following her around already! Now I imagine that Quiet salt likes her privacy and alone time because hello it's nice and quiet, however ever since she met you it's not that her quiet was disrupted but it's the fact that you just stand there menacingly. On a brighter note, not even an hour later you proven to be no threat to Quiet salt as you would quietly bring her things like snacks, tea or even books to read. She no clue what your aim was...like were you trying to please her somehow, or submit until she pays attention to you?? Either way she's not getting rid of you anytime soon.........or anytime at all😐

FEEL FREE TO REBLOG🫣